#Would she dream about the same things that Link would? Sentimental for times past?

[onehundredfallenpetals]

Head in the clouds, both lost in nostalgic dreams

(Click for better quality)

[kohanayaki]

.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 8

You come across an old photo book full of untouched memories and decide to go through it with Harry, though there are some things you decide he doesn't need to know and some things you'd rather forget. (Takes place mostly through Marauders era flashbacks)

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

Ch 8 .:Snapshots, Secrets, and Sentimentality:.

“Hey, Harry?” you called out into the living room where said boy was reclined on one of the large charcoal armchairs, “I found something you might want to see.”

His eyes widened behind the round frames of his glasses as you carried over a large, leather bound book that was thick with laminated pages. You sat across from him on the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“We still have a few more hours before the others arrive for the meeting,” you said, “and I don't know when the next time we'll be able to talk like this will be.”

“Wait,” he said before you could open the book, “you aren't staying?”

“I can't,” you smiled at him sadly. A statement that was true for a multitude of reasons you'd rather not get into with your godson. “I wanted to show this to you before I left, though.”

With a wave of your hand the book's pages gently flipped open, revealing a number of old magical photographs. The page you had turned to had a picture of James, and you could see Harry's eyes lock onto it. His father was beaming at the camera, holding up the Quidditch cup as two of his Gryffindor teammates held him up on their shoulders.

“Now you see why everyone always tells you how much you look like him,” you chuckled, “that's him in his fifth year, same as you now.”

Harry stared in wonder at the photo. He really did look like his dad. James was slightly taller, lankier, but he had the same disheveled waves of dark brown hair and boyish grin as Harry. Their faces were nearly identical; except for the eyes, of course.

The photo right next to that one was you wearing a Seeker's crest. You were posed, standing with the rest of your team with a wide smile on your face. Harry's brow furrowed as he spotted an unknown yet somehow familiar boy next to you with curly black hair and light eyes.

“Who is that?” he asked, “he almost looks like—”

“Sirius?” you finished. Harry nodded. “That would make sense,” you said, “that's Regulus, his younger brother.”

“I. . . didn't know he had one,” Harry said in wonder.

“Well, you know he doesn't talk about his family often.”

“Right. . .” Harry trailed off for a moment, “but you knew him? His brother?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a tug at your heart, “We were friends, for a while.” Your eyes subconsciously looked up towards his room which now stood empty. “He, um. . . he died, some time ago.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing what to say, “I'm sorry. . .”

You gave him a small smile in thanks, trying to shrug off the grim feeling the memories brought up as you turned the page of the book to the next.

This photograph was one that was moving— you and James in your Quidditch captain's uniforms. He was reaching over, ruffling your hair while you were ducking to avoid him, pushing his face away and turning his glasses askew despite the grin on your face.

“We both became team captains in year six,” you said, smiling fondly at the picture, “we'd squared off as Seekers the year prior, so it was only natural. You were already playing Seeker your first year, weren't you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said bashfully, “although my first time catching the snitch was bit rough to say the least.” You laughed at that, recalling the time he told you the story of how he had caught the snitch with his mouth his first match.

“You take after your father, for sure,” you said, “he was always a creative flier; came up with all sorts of purposefully confusing strategies as captain. By the time the other team figured out what he was doing, he'd have already caught the snitch and the match would be set.”

Harry felt pride fill his chest at your words, glad he was taking on his father's good qualities.

“So you were a Seeker your fifth year and played until you graduated,” he recalled, “but I thought you said you played Chaser before?”

“Well, sort of?” you admitted, “Not officially. My introduction to the game was unconventional, to say the least. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James and Sirius huddled with the rest of the Gryffindor team on the Quidditch pitch, gearing up for the match. The energy around them was electric, the stands packed with students and faculty from every house.

“Remember, keep to the left,” Halls, their team captain, said sternly, “and take advantage of Parkinson's blind spot. If Rollins and the rest of the Chasers start scoring above 40 before halftime, we'll go in for the Pincer.”

Sirius nodded, determined to win this match. It was the first one of the season, so a lot was riding on this. However, his attention was diverted as the crowd's cheers suddenly grew louder. The Slytherin team had arrived on the field, marching towards them. Something Sirius didn't expect to see, however, was you, dressed in Chaser's robes next to his brother.

“What are they doing here?” Sirius scoffed as he spotted you, “they're not even on the team!”

“Rollins took a spill last practice,” Vanity said as she stepped forward. The Slytherin captain had a wicked grin on her face, “(L/n)'s a last minute replacement. Don't bother trying to argue, I've already cleared it with Madame Hooch.”

“Convenient of you to tell us ahead of time,” Halls' eyes narrowed.

“Is there a part of 'last minute' that escapes your understanding?” Vanity rolled her eyes.

“Well, no matter,” Halls said, “you've lost your best Chaser, we don't have anything to worry about.”

“That classic Gryffindor confidence,” Vanity smirked, “we'll see about that. I don't choose just anyone to fill in.”

Halls scoffed as Vanity turned on her heels, not bothering to look back.

“Seems you've found yourself another game to lose, (L/n),” James smirked at you.

“Have I?” you arched a brow, “what's our score now? 10-9?”

“10-10 since I got you with that scalene water in the Prefect's bathroom,” James reminded you, “how was being half fish for a day?”

“Marvelous, felt just like you,” you quipped.

“Settle down, everyone,” Madame Hooch said, stepping out onto the field, “Potter, (L/n), I know you two have taken to pranks on each other in class, but I don't want to see a lick of that up in the air, understood?”

“Perfectly,” you said, a smirk sneaking onto your face as you mounted your broom. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, professor,” James said with sarcastic flair.

Sirius eyed you cautiously. Gryffindor had flying class with Hufflepuff, so they'd never actually seen you fly before, but there was no doubt that if Vanity approved of you, you had to pose some kind of threat.

“Take your marks,” Hooch said, and you rose off the ground in unison, staring each other down. “Let the match begin!” With a strong, well placed kick, the Quidditch case was thrown open to release the bludgers and the snitch, and as she threw the quaffle up in the air you lunged forward into a dive. You were just about to grab the ball when a blur of red and gold nearly knocked you off your broom.

“Potter has the Quaffle!” Kingston commentated from the box, “he passes to Longbottom, who evades Catchlove and Regulus Black. Longbottom scores! The first ten points go to Gryffindor!”

The patrons in the red and gold stands went wild, the roar deafening in your ears. This was definitely different from flying class. You had to get it together.

The hair on the back of your neck suddenly stood straight up when something whizzed right past your head as you barely moved to dodge it. Sirius gave you a passive shrug from the other side of the field, a beater's bat resting on his shoulder.

“Tosser,” you grumbled under your breath. You had half a mind to throw him right through the left-field hoops without his broom, but dealing with the bludgers wasn't your job; you just had to evade and score. You wouldn't let your team down.

Your eyes searched the skies for the quaffle again, and found it as you spotted a Gryffindor snatch it out of Catchlove's hands. You built up momentum, lowering your body to your broom handle as you picked up speed, swiping the ball from the red Chaser's hands before his eyes could register. You flew under him before their team could rearrange formation and spun around quickly, swatting the quaffle towards the lower right goal with the tail end of your broom. Their Keeper dove to block it, but was one second too late. The ball flew through the hoop and straight into Regulus' hands, who looped back around and threw it through the top right, leaving the Gryffindor Keeper too disoriented and too low in the corner of the goal posts to do anything about it.

“(L/n) outmaneuvers Johnson and scores!” you heard the commentary box boom, “Regulus Black follows up with another goal, we are 20 Slytherin to 10 Gryffindor, what a quick turnaround to start off the match!”

You huffed, impressed that Regulus was able to make the most of your shot. You knew he was Sirius' brother, but that was about it. He was a year younger than you, so you didn't have any classes together and never really talked to him before.

“Nice shot,” you said, flying next to him.

“Same to you,” he said with the slightest upwards quirk of his lips.

“Oi, keep it up you two!” Vanity shouted, hovering over you before dodging the bludger that flew her way, “Black, keep point on Johnson, he's off his game today. (L/n) I want you on intercept and watch for Potter.”

“Gladly,” you smirked, flying off towards the other side of the field. You were starting to feel more comfortable in the air, like you were when you were just flying by yourself; the sounds of the crowd disappeared over the wind rushing in your ears, and you were able to concentrate on your main objective:

Kicking James Potter's arse.

And that you did. The all too confident smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face disappeared when he suddenly felt the weight of the quaffle leave his hands. A victorious smile graced your lips at his dumbfound expression as you threw the ball long to Regulus, who caught it with ease, swatting Johnson away like a fly before scoring another goal.

“(L/n) passes to Black who scores another ten points for Slytherin!” Kingston announced, “it looks like the two rookie players are really hitting their stride now. Choosing (L/n) as a last second fill in is really paying off!”

Sirius' eyes narrowed, grunting in frustration as he hit another bludger your way. Regulus' head turned at the sound of the crack of the bat and signaled over to one of your Beaters, who tossed the bat his way just in time for the Slytherin to send the ball flying back towards his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath, rolling to the right and spinning out of control for a moment before reorienting himself.

“Hooch, what gives!” he shouted, “penalize them!”

“Fair play under protection,” Hooch denied him, “you've been taking headshots, Black. Be grateful I'm not docking you.”

Sirius grumbled a few choice words under his breath before flying back into the fray.

“Thanks for that!” you called over to Regulus.

“Don't mention it,” the boy said, his expression still fairly neutral save for the slight smirk on his face. How the hell was he so calm during this game anyways?

You continued to work with Regulus throughout the match; you'd found a system that worked, and your captain told you to roll with it. Pass after pass you intercepted and scored, mainly targeting Potter not just because Vanity had told you to, but because it brought you a considerable amount of personal enjoyment.

That's when you saw it— a tiny, nearly imperceptible flash of gold that whizzed by your peripheral vision. Neither of the Seekers had caught sight of it yet, but you watched as it zoomed low towards the ground, hovering just beneath one of the crowd stands.

“Oi, Talkalot!” you shouted over the crowd at your Seeker, “Dive low at Hippogriff, now!”

You'd only had  a few hours to look over the strategies that Vanity laid out for you, but you knew the Slytherin team had come up with code words for each quadrant of the Quiditch pitch so you could alert your Seeker if you saw the snitch without the other team knowing where it was. You hoped to Merlin you'd gotten the code right, and you exhaled in relief as Talkalot zoomed past you, taking a sharp dive straight down.

“Nice eye, (L/n)!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she went after the snitch at top speed.

Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the sporadic move from your Seeker. That could only mean one thing.

“Halls, they've got eyes on the snitch!” he shouted to his team captain who cursed under his breath, taking off in Talkalot's direction, but her lead was too great.

“She's got it!” Kingston hollered into the mic, “Lucinda Talkalot has caught the golden snitch, scoring 150 points for Slytherin! Our score comes out 50 Gryffindor to 230 Slytherin, and this match is over!”

“Slytherin wins!” Madame Hooch proclaimed from her broom.

Everyone in the emerald stands cheered so loudly you thought their tents would topple. You couldn't believe the amount of adrenaline coursing through your body in that moment. It was a complete sensory overload as you were bombarded by the Slytherin team, mostly comprised of people you hardly even knew, and thrown on top of their shoulders and they cheered for you.

“What a game, (L/n)! I never knew you could play!”

“Where the hell have you been all this time, eh?”

“You better try out next year or you're dead!”

You laughed at the last comment from Vanity, people buzzing around you as soon as you were set down. You broke away from the congratulatory comments and pats on the back, however, as you spotted James across the field. You couldn't help but rub this in his face a little.  

“Why so blue, Potter?” you grinned as you bounded over to him, “what was that about me 'finding another game to lose'?”

For once, James had no clever comeback, and his face flushed as you laughed at his expression.

“I do believe that leaves us 11-10,” you said cheekily, doing an overly exaggerated bow before tossing your broom from your left hand to your right and stalking off.

“Not for long,” James said to himself once you were out of earshot, equal parts impressed and supremely annoyed. It was time for him to pay another visit to Zonko's. He'd show you blue all right. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“After that year I tried out for a permanent position as Seeker,” you said, “your father and I concluded our prank war, Sirius and I put aside our differences, Lupin vouched for my involvement with the map, and the rest is history.”

“I seriously can't believe you became such close friends only two years later,” Harry said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Neither could we,” you said, “it was just a series of chance encounters that we learned we were more similar than we thought. I really do believe that friendship can come from anywhere, Harry. Even more so when you least expect it. So if there's anyone around you that you think you might never get along with, I'd say it's worth it to give them a chance.”

Harry paused at your words. There were more than a few people who came to mind.

You turned to the next page, which was a spread of you and the rest of the Marauders in more casual settings. One could clearly tell you had taken them of each other, if the shaky camera movement and blurry rendering were anything to go off of.

You smiled to yourself as you saw a photo of you and Remus asleep in the Hogwarts library, lightly leaning against each other with your eyes peacefully closed. Suddenly the camera flash jolted through the photograph, and you two bolted upright. You glared at the person taking the photo and reached out to smack the camera away, the picture going blurry for a moment before resetting. Harry laughed at the brief repeating scene, as did you.

“Your father took this one,” you huffed, “because of course he did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1977  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rested your head in your palm as you transcribed a few spells into your notebook. The lantern in front of you gave you just enough light to read the elaborate Latin, as the sun had long since set. Your eyelids felt annoyingly heavy, attempting to close on their own as you fought against them to stay awake.

“How are you holding up?” Remus asked with a slight grin, catching you jump awake at his remark.

You and Remus had gotten permission from Madame Pince to use the library after hours to study; after all, you two were outstanding students. If James and Sirius had made the request, they wouldn't have gotten so positive a reaction.

“I've been more awake in my life, but I really need to get this done tonight,” you sighed, “NEWTS start next week and I have to be ready.” You stared up at the boy who was looking at you with obvious concern. “I'm fine, Moony. And I don't want to keep you here, so whenever you want to head off to bed, feel free to.”

“It's no trouble,” he said, “I'll walk you back to your common room, at least. At this rate you'll fall asleep in the middle of the hall for Filch to find you.”

You gave him a light but well-meant glare, groaning as you turned your tired eyes back to the parchment in front of you.

“Why the sudden all-nighters anyways?” Lupin asked, “I thought you'd be plenty prepared.”

“My Charms marks haven't exactly been the best lately,” you admitted, “that's kind of important if I want to become an auror, Remus.”

“Really?” the lycanthrope said, surprised, “but you're always in the know on some spell or another I've never even heard of. You've even made some of your own, right?”

“Yes, but the Ministry wants people who can conjure a corporeal patronus, not someone who made up a spell that makes antlers grow on someone's head to make a very specific joke.”

“Well, I thought it was impressive,” Remus laughed, thinking back to James asking him 'why does my head feel so heavy?' “but I see what you're saying,” Remus continued, “Have you thought about Dumbledore's proposal? Joining the cause might call for some more specialized tasks that would fit you well.”

“Right,” you bit your lip, “I just. . . I don't know. It's a lot to take on. A big part of me is scared, Remus. I'm not like you guys. I can't just fearlessly leap into a battle without any second thoughts. James and Sirius gave their answers so quickly and. . . I couldn't say for sure right away like they could. Honestly, I was terrified, and I still feel guilty because of it.”

“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, (Y/n),” Remus said, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is forcing you to make this decision right away, nor are they requiring you do it alone. There's a war going on out there, (Y/n). No one would blame you for not diving into it headfirst.”

“Always the quoter of muggle proverbs,” you chuckled lightly, “thank you, Remus. Really.”

A quiet yawn snuck into the back of your throat, and you stretched out of your chair to try to get feeling back into your body.

“Maybe I should turn in soon,” you said, your voice already groggy, “just a few more transcriptions. . .”

Remus stayed by your side as you continued to work diligently, and he found himself smiling at your innate stubbornness. It was something he greatly admired about you; when you decided on something you stuck to it no matter what, sometimes to a fault. You fought to keep your eyes open, even as your head began to slope and your handwriting gradually became slower.

Lupin was beginning to tire himself, which surprised him. He was naturally nocturnal, after all, and usually had no issue staying up to the early hours of the morning. But the quiet scratch of your quill against the parchment, the occasional sound of a page turning, and the smell of your shampoo that wafted with the motion, all lulled him into a sense of ease that was much too easy to doze off to.

Just when he thought he might fall asleep, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see you sleeping peacefully, your head having slipped from your palm and onto the soft fabric of his sweater. His face flushed a deep red, and he thanked Merlin you were sound asleep. He was caught in between embarrassment and slight panic as he instinctualy wanted to wake you but also ensure you actually got to sleep tonight.

He meant to wake you, he really had, but his mind and body betrayed him, and without even knowing when, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into quite possibly the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

The flash of the magical camera was blinding, even through your closed eyelids. White spots danced in your vision as you groaned, shielding your face from the camera.

“MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!”

Remus jolted awake, remembering last night's events in an instant and banging his head on the bookshelf beside him in an attempt to put some distance between you two.

James was stood there, camera in hand and doubled over in laughter.

“Prongs, you better start running before I skin you and turn you into a pair of shoes,” you growled.

“How is it that I always catch you two sleeping together?” James chortled, completely ignoring your statement, “Can't be long till you get it on to the other sense of the phrase.”

And that's when you lunged at him. Too bad he didn't take your advice for a head start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That twat,” you said fondly, a statement that about summed up your and James' friendship.

Harry found himself smiling as you recounted your memories with his father. It made him feel that much more grateful for what he shared with Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, Merlin,” you laughed as you saw the next picture. You, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and James were standing side by side, Slughorn smiling in the middle of all of you. “This was the first and last Slug Club party that we ever attended all together,” you said, “Like I mentioned, Lily and I had always gone, and—”

You caught yourself.

And Severus would pretend to be reluctant tagging along, you finished in your mind. After what happened he stopped attending the parties.

You cleared your throat.

“Ahem, well, we'd always gone together as friends but none of the boys ever went with us,” you said, “It was our last year, and Lily finally convinced James to tag along, because by then they were together and he was contractually obligated to do so. I talked Sirius into coming because Slughorn had been trying to get him to come for years, and I made Remus my plus one. So for the first time ever, we were all at the party.”

“So it was the last party of the year?” Harry asked.

“Um, well, no,” you laughed, “it was the last party we were invited to. Let's just say your godfather thought it would be funny to enchant the ice sculptures to chase Lucius Malfoy around the dance floor. I'll admit, watching that stupid blonde ninny run screaming from a rapidly melting octopus to the tune of a classical string quartet was pretty entertaining, though Slughorn obviously felt otherwise.”

Harry chuckled, clearly seeing the spark of mischief in Sirius' eyes, even through a photo. As Harry's gaze drifted across the page, he noticed an empty space near the corner of the book. A discolored square remained where a photo should have been, the caption reading 'Christmas, 1976.' As he saw the way you ran your fingers lightly across the page, he decided against asking you what used to be there. He instead turned his attention to the next photograph, which was one taken in an all too familiar setting.

“Hold on,” Harry said, pointing to the picture, “that's the Gryffindor common room!”

“Sure is,” you grinned, “that secret passage from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower went from being used purely for pranking purposes to a way for us to actually hang out together at night.”

You stared down at the photograph fondly. You all looked so much older than the first pictures. You and James were lounging on the couch, not bothering to hide the overly full glasses of firewhiskey in your hands. Sirius and Remus were sitting on pillows on the floor, caught in the middle of a fit of laughter before all four of you turned to the camera which flashed. A pang of hurt and anger hit you square in the chest as it did. Peter had been the one taking the photo.

“I remember this day,” you said, an expression Harry couldn't quite figure out on your face, “it was the night before graduation. Our last night at Hogwarts. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1978   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A giggle rose in your throat as you took yet another drink of firewhiskey with James and Sirius, something that Remus insisted you were going to regret come morning.

“Oh, don't be suck a stickler, Moony,” Sirius guffawed, “tonight's the night! This time tomorrow we'll be packing up camp and heading out into the great unknown.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand that was cut off promptly by James smacking him upside the head.

“I'll brew a pepperup potion tomorrow if anyone really needs it,” you assured Remus.

“Not really the point, (Y/n),” he rolled his eyes.

As you leaned back to look at the four of them, all grinning like idiots and laughing, you felt a strange sense of sadness come over you. This was your last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place you had spent most of your life and where you had met the people you could no longer imagine that life without. As the reality of that fact sunk in, you grew quiet.

“Everything's going to be different after tomorrow, isn't it?” you said.

The boys looked surprised at your sudden and intense declaration, and James was the first to break the tension you'd created.

“Aww, Fangs is getting all sentimental,” he grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“I will toss you out this window, Prongs.”

He laughed, poking you in the cheek, his smile only widening as you huffed in annoyance.

“It won't be different,” he promised, more serious but with that smile ever present on his face, “we'll still be friends. We'll still be a pack. And besides, after we graduate we could go. . . well, anywhere together! Just think, the five greatest heroes Hogwarts has ever seen, going on top secret missions from Dumbledore, saving the world!”

“It'll be dangerous, James,” you said, “there's a war going on, remember?”

“What war could ever break us up, huh?” he said reassuringly. You felt your heart swell at the remark. “And besides, you're gonna have to see me next year for the wedding anyways! Lily wanted it sometime in Spring.”

“. . .”

“WEDDING?!” you, Sirius, Remus, and Peter screeched, practically in unison as if it had been planned and rehearsed. Chaos erupted in the room, and you couldn't care less if you woke everyone in Gryffindor tower.

“You sly git, when were you gonna tell us?!” Sirius whacked his friend over the head with the map.

“I just did!” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “And ow, Merlin, Pads. . .”

“You hit me first!”

“I can't believe you just dropped that on us,” you said, “Lily actually agreed to this?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” James huffed.

“Hey, I'm just saying you tend to drift off into fantasy land when it comes to her,” you said, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I was just making sure this was rooted in reality.”

Remus laughed at that, lifting the needle on his record gently.

“They have a point,” he chuckled.

“Yes, I actually proposed, and yes she actually agreed,” James said, a lovesick smile on his face, “I wanted to get married pretty soon after we graduated, and she had no problem with that. She said she'd want to start a family—”

“Oh GOD,” Sirius said, drunken horror on his face.

“An actual nightmare,” you joined in playfully, “imagine another one of you running around. Even Lily's DNA couldn't balance that out.”

“Alright, that's it,” James said, “you're not gonna be godparents anymore.”

“I'd be terrible at that anyways,” Sirius chortled.

“I disagree,” James said earnestly, and the comment struck Sirius completely off guard. He chocked up the welling tears in his eyes to the alcohol, taking another sip to mask it.

“You're going soft, Prongsy,” he grumbled.

“Look who's talking, tough guy,” James laughed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

“We should take a picture,” Peter suggested quietly, turning red when everyone stopped what they were doing to face him, “I-I mean, since (Y/n) was worried about things changing, and we're all graduating, a-and who knows when—”

“Good thinking Wormtail,” James beamed, pulling you closer and leaning down towards Sirius and Remus so you could all be in the frame.

Peter was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting with his wand.

“Peter, you don't wanna get in the picture?” you asked.

The large framed boy jumped at your voice, looking nervously between the people he had come to know as his friends. There was an oddly fearful look in his eyes that left as soon as it came— a look you wouldn't understand until years later.

“N-no, that's alright,” he said.

And that was one of the last peaceful days of your life you could recall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I haven't even thought about these in the longest time,” you said, staring at the faded photos, “it's crazy to look back on them. It feels both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.”

The next page immediately summoned a lump in your throat.

“This was their wedding,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, “the year after we graduated.”

Harry looked down at the dozens of photos of the ceremony and party that took place after; James at the altar in his burgundy and gold embroidered suit, and Lily walking down the isle with a bouquet full of the flowers that shared her name. Remus raising a champagne flute to the large crowd of guests as he made a heartfelt speech. You and Sirius dancing under the floating lanterns made to mimic the Hogwarts ceiling.

“Your father never was one for subtlety,” you laughed lightly, “he wanted the ceremony to be as extravagant as possible. He pulled out all the stops. . . and then, the very next year, they announced that they were going to have you.”

You looked up at Harry, and the resemblance he shared with two of your closest late friends conjured feelings of happiness, love, and deep, cutting sadness all at the same time.

Your fingers moved to turn the page, wanting to move on to something else, but you froze as you saw the edge of the next one. So much for that plan.

“I think that's enough for now,” you said quickly, smoothing the page back down, “the others will be arriving soon for the meeting, you best get washed up.”

Harry was curious, of course, but he nodded, not wanting to press for anything else as he reluctantly headed back upstairs.

When you were left alone with the photo book you sighed, bringing yourself to turn the page to see a picture of you and Severus. You were beaming at the camera, proudly holding out your perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death, the photo having been taken by Slughorn to put up on his famous wall. One of your arms held the cauldron haphazardly, the other slung around Severus' shoulders. He certainly wasn't displaying your level of enthusiasm, but a small smile graced his expression, allowing his lips to fully curve upwards, which was as close to 'beaming' as he ever got. He looked so much younger— less burdened.

Right next to that photo was an older one from 1973. It was one you had taken from the top of the oak tree, with Severus and Lily looking up at you. You knew he'd be here soon, and you knew you should talk to him, but you found yourself stuck back in the cycle of doubting every opening spiel you came up with.

You groaned in frustration, snapping the book shut and resting your forehead on the table as stress flooded your being. You refused to live in this perpetual state of dwelling on what happened. You were ready to talk, you just had to take the first step.

Chapter 9 coming soon!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius @pan-pride-12​

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

evermore x hp / masterlist

hp x readers based on the absolute masterpiece that is evermore by the love of my life taylor swift. i’ll be posting these fics once or twice a week and i will update the links once i’ve posted each one <3 really hope you guys enjoy <3

// these aren’t going to be exact line by line songfics, but based around a particular line or verse //

all fic masterlist

[🌸 = fluff, 🍁= angst]

taglist: @padsfirewhisky

[🌸] willow - fred weasley x reader

“life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

they count me out time and time again

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

but I come back stronger than a 90's trend”

summary: hogwarts’ most popular playboy has made it very clear that you, his best friend, are not his type. seeing as you were crushing on him hard, you decide to take matters into your own hands

«»

[🍁] champagne problems - ron weasley x reader

“you had a speech, you’re speechless

love slipped beyond your reaches

and i couldn’t give a reason

champagne problems”

summary: on a cold night in november, your boyfriend, ron, gets sentimental thinking about a future that you’re not sure you deserved

«»

[🌸] gold rush - ginny weasley x reader

“and the coastal town

we wandered ‘round had never

seen a love as pure as it”

summary: revelling in the fact that you have the most amazing girlfriend in the world, while unbeknownst to you, she’s thinking exactly the same thing

«»

[🌸🍁] ‘tis the damn season - cedric diggory x reader

“so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

‘tis the damn season

write this down

i’m stayin’ at my parent’s house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown”

summary: you bump into an old flame and old feelings catch up to you as you find yourself rekindling said flame

«»

[🍁] tolerate it - harry potter x reader

“i made you my temple, my mural, my sky

now i’m begging for footnotes in the story of your

life

drawing hearts in the bylines

always taking up too much space or time

you assume i’m fine, but what would you do if i

break free and leave us in ruins?

took this dagger in me and removed it?

gain the weight of you then lose it

believe me, i could do it”

summary: in the chaos of war, harry pushes the one person he didn’t ever want to lose, to the brink of walking away from him

«»

[🍁] no body, no crime - marauders x reader / peter pettigrew x reader / sirius black x reader

“i think he did it but i just can’t prove it

no, no body no crime

but i ain’t letting up ‘till the day i die”

summary: your best friends, lily and james potter, were betrayed by their secret keeper however you’re sure it couldn’t have been sirius.

«»

[🌸] happiness - remus lupin x reader

“there is happiness

past the blood and bruise

past the curses and cries

beyond the terror of the nightfall

haunted by the look in my eyes

that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

and there is happiness”

summary: after the death of his friends and the betrayal of sirius, remus fears that he has lost the capacity for happiness. until you came along

«»

[🌸] dorothea - hermoine granger x reader

“hey dorothea

do you ever stop and think about me?

when we were younger

down in the park

honey, making a lark of the misery

you got shiny friends since you left town

a tiny screen’s the only place i see you now

and i got nothing but well wishes for ya”

summary: you see your childhood best friend for the first time in nearly a decade, you hold the same love and respect for her now as you did then

«»

[🍁] coney island - george weasley x reader

“the question pounds my head

‘what’s a lifetime of achievement?’

if i pushed you to the edge

but you were too polite to leave me

and do you miss the rogue

who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

will you forgive my soul

when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to

care?”

summary: business is booming and the joke shop is expanding at a rapid rate, by the time it reaches its peak, geoege wants to bask in his success with the woman he loves, only to realise he’d completely neglected you in favour of pursuing his dreams and he doesn’t know if you’ll forgive him for it

«»

[🍁🌸] ivy - harry potter x reader

“how’s one to know?

i’d live and die for moments that we stole

on begged and borrowed time

so tell me to run

or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become”

summary: he thinks he’ll only ruin you, you think he’s worth the risk

«»

[🍁] cowboy like me - sirius black x reader

“you’re a bandit like me

eyes full of stars

hustling for the good life

never thought i’d meet you here

it could be love

we could be the way forward

and i know i’ll pay for it”

summary: sirius runs into you at a pure-blood party he’d been dragged to, the pair of you find solace in each other and gravitate towards one another from then on, however, noting the similarities between you and him, you deduct that you’ll end up paying dearly when you begin to crave more than secret rendezvous at pure-blood occasions.

«»

[🌸] long story short - george weasley x reader

“and he’s passing by

rare as the glimmer as a comment in the sky

and he feels like home

if the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go”

summary: george weasley is undoubtedly the love of your life, you realise

«»

[🍁] marjorie - remus lupin x lupin!reader

“the autumn chill that wakes me up

you loved the amber skies so much

long limbs and frozen swims

you’d always go past where our feet could

touch

and i complained the whole way there

the car ride back and up the stairs

i should’ve asked you questions

i should’ve asked you how to be

asked you to write it down for me

should’ve kept every grocery store receipt

‘cause every scrap of you would be taken

from me”

summary: your father dies in the battle of hogwarts and you’re left to go through his things

«»

[🍁] closure - fred weasley x reader

“yes, i got your letter

yes, i’m doing better

it cuts deep to know ya, right to the bone

yes, i got your letter

yes, i’m doing better

i know that it’s over, i don’t need your

closure”

summary: you and fred have a messy breakup and after a few months he owls you to see how you’re doing, and it just so happens that you’re doing fine without him

«»

[🌸] evermore - harry potter x reader

“and i was catching my breath

floors of a cabin creaking under my steps

and i couldn’t be sure

i had a feeling so peculiar

this pain wouldn’t be for

evermore”

summary: a soft moment between you and harry as you heal from the war together

«»

[🍁🌸] right where you left me - sirius black x reader

“did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

time went on for everybody else, she won’t

know it

she’s still 23 inside her fantasy

how it was supposed to be

did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

break-ups happen everyday, you don’t have to

lose it

she’s still 23 inside her fantasy

and you’re sitting in front of me”

summary: when sirius is condemned to azkaban you wait, and wait, and wait, right where he left you

«»

[🍁] it’s time to go - george weasley x reader

“that old familiar body ache

the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul

you know when it’s time to go”

summary: transitioning from best friends to lovers isn’t always the best idea, sometimes it’s better to walk away before there’s nothing left to leave

«»

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 7/?: Catalysts

Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often, despite the frustrating paradox that is the male endocrine system’s apparent determination to make him do so. He finds it feels… empty, after. Like there’s supposed to be something more, but instead there’s just whatever is situated above his head to stare at while his breathing levels out, an interminable abyss of silence and stars, or tree foliage, or apartment ceiling. Impulses and feelings of a sexual nature are probably normal for anyone his age, but in the past, satiating desires like this has made him feel guilty, given the context.

When he's not plagued by nightmares rife with gore and blood and bodies, or the occasional aching memory, his subconscious takes the opportunity to bombard him with dreams of a suggestive nature, having deduced somehow that it’s the most effective method to get him to… tend to things.

This variety of dream customarily involves pale pink hair, multifaceted eyes, and soft fingertips, branded into the part of his brain that controls his most base instincts with a hot iron.

He notes begrudgingly as he gazes at plain plaster above him, brows furrowed, that ostensibly, it works well enough, if the intricate mess of thoughts and feelings in his head and on his abdomen are anything to go by.

Sasuke would never admit it to anyone, but Sakura has headlined exclusively in nearly every sexually-charged dream he's ever had, and resultingly the majority of his sentient thoughts while indulging outside of dreaming, too. When they were Genin, it was innocent enough; he had reasoned that, being the main girl his age he associated with, it made sense his inadvertent dreams, beyond the scope of his control, involved her. He'd shaken it off in those early days as the by-product of the developing hormonal cocktail that is the pubescent masculine mind, and ignored the part of himself that kind of had a crush on her even then. Or definitively more than a crush, after the Chunin Exams and the hospital and jealousy.

He had tried convincing himself of the same thing at fourteen, once he'd left the village and had attempted to sever all bonds. It didn’t work, though; by that point he knew better, knew what the feeling he was trying to squash actually was.

Which meant it didn’t work at fifteen, either.

Nor sixteen, and definitely not seventeen, eighteen, or nineteen.

All of that has been wholly indecent on its own in the past, causing him to feel shameful every time it happens, and even more ashamed if it’s a rare day where he’s weak enough to act on it, a day where he wakes up mere seconds from an edge rather than minutes.

But this morning, he woke up on the tail end of all of that with the addition of freckles , of all things to fixate on, and he just knows he's never going to forget about them now, that they’re branded into his grey matter in perpetuity. Freckles just above the interior of a shoulder, eight of them, a small scattering he had been pressing his lips to, listening to a softly whispered Sasuke-kun, reaching around her with his only arm, so he could make her say his name like that again.

It is far from the first time he’s touched himself to the thought of Sakura, but it is the first time he’s indulged since they’ve been… together.

Except this time felt… different.

Less like an unrealistic reverie he should try to abstain from and more like an eventuality. Less guilt, too, or rather, almost none, because he’s in a relationship with her now, and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to have feelings like this regarding her. Not that he is anywhere near ready to do anything about them, because he absolutely is not; he’s not certain he even comprehends that level of vulnerability, to touch another person and allow yourself to be touched by them, though he badly wants to, someday.

No, Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often… but he did this morning, when he woke up teetering just on the precipice, fantasizing about tiny tan flecks seen and unseen, and he’s trying to work through how he feels about it, this guilt surrounding the fact of not feeling guilty like he ordinarily does, as well as the lingering curiosity he’s struggling to force down regarding how many other freckles Sakura has.

Even moreso, he yearns for soft words that he has often thought may be sentimental to the point of being utterly quixotic. It's why he doesn’t typically submit to this kind of inclination in the first place; it’s meaningless on one’s own, he secretly thinks, though he has nothing to compare it to. No sense of connection or true lasting fulfillment like he imagines there must be, for people to talk about it the way they do; just pleasure that's there for a blinding scattered second and gone the next, with nothing tenderhearted or meaningful in the moments following as his vision refocuses and he picks up the pieces.

He stares at his ceiling, an aporia of longing and complicated compulsions ricocheting in the hallways of his head, or perhaps from his skull to the roof and back again, an absurd push and pull that leaves him with more questions than answers.

Has she ever thought about him the way he thinks about her?

What would it sound like, Sasuke-kun, when she’s like that?

Is it okay to feel like this, now? To think about her in this regard?

Sasuke is accustomed to not sleeping well - it comes with the territory of his lived experience, an unfortunate fact of life he’s somewhat learned to deal with - but during the mission to Sand, he'd slept fairly restfully, though in short increments of five or six hours. That's apparently the tipping point of how long he gets to go without being sojourned by some variety of vision in the night.

He eventually makes his way to the shower, using torrid water and soap to double cleanse what’s left of his mess. That's a big contributor to his consternation, too; it's so embarrassingly messy that it’s impossible to imagine ever doing anything like it with her . He flips the dial to cold after he’s bathed for the better portion of five minutes, because serpens caput is still burned into his retinas, and he’s hoping against hope to freeze it out of himself like he has tried to do with shame in the past.

It doesn’t work; it just induces shivering, algidity overwhelming the senses but doing nothing to distract the mind.

He shoves his face into his book after, desperate for the distraction a proverbial fiction featuring an old fisherman can provide and thinking once again that he needs to acquire a lamp. Anything to get the thought of pressing his lips to her freckles out of his head, because he’s pretty sure if he keeps thinking about it, he’ll have to take care of things for the second time today, and then he really won’t know how to feel.

So when a banging erupts on his apartment door shortly following eight, followed by a shout of, “TEME! I'm here, let’s go!”, all he can think is finally, because he knows it will at least get his mind off of this strange lack of guilt and a curiosity he’s not ready to unpack yet. The book helped, but he thinks he needs the challenge a fight against Naruto can provide to truly leave behind this level of prurience. He doesn’t know how he’s going to look her in the eye when they meet at three as they planned, otherwise.

Sasuke shoves on his sandals and grabs his chokuto before opening the door. “So you finally showed. Thought you'd sleep all morning.”

Naruto’s eyes narrow, indignant and already launching into a retort. Good. Maybe he’ll get some iota of order knocked back into him, enough to put compelling constellations away for the time being.

XXX

Sasuke feels monumentally better by noon. It’s another draw, an absolute whirlwind of swinging limbs that made it impossible to focus on anything else. He didn’t take joy in it necessarily, and he suspects Naruto bruised his ulna bone to the extent it almost cracked, but it helps, the diversion of pain; the tinge he feels when he moves it is a welcome hindrance. They’d stuck mainly to taijutsu and clashing weaponry, so physically, he’s pretty exhausted.

They’re resting in the dirt, making a valiant attempt at rehydrating. It’s moderately hot for this time of year, barely on the cusp of mid April, but it’s seeming like the Konoha heat will be returning with the same vengeance it always does. A small trickle of sweat sinks its way down his back.

Sasuke feels nearly normal again. Or normal to the extent he generally feels, anyways. He gets the urge to do something good - to tip the scale, so to speak.

"...The cutting board works. Thank you." It’s not what he’s most thankful for right now, but it’s a nice thing to say as substitution.

His friend grins at him. "Welcome! It was all me, by the way. Hinata-chan didn't even help me pick it out!" Naruto scratches his head, downing more water. He’s moving rather slowly, as if he is sore, too; Sasuke thinks perhaps he came close to beating him this round.

They stare upwards for a while, soaking in the sun as clouds roll lazily by. Birds fly overhead, finches and song sparrows twittering their selections, collecting materials to build more nests for this new season. It’s another effective distraction, one that fills him with a sense of nostalgia, replacing his earlier sense of compunction regarding the mystifying concept of physical love and the whims that accompany it.

Naruto speaks up after a bit. "Ne, teme, wanna go to the market with me? Hinata-chan asked me to get some groceries and some stuff for the backyard."

Sasuke glances at his teammate and contemplates. It can't hurt. He did want to pick up potatoes to make actual curry with, and he could get some other things, too. He'll still have time to shower before he meets Sakura at the hospital.

"...Sure."

Naruto takes longer to rise than he does, shuffling carefully as if he is in pain, but once he’s standing, he seems fine enough, stupid grin slapped on his face at Sasuke’s agreement to go with. They set off in the general direction of his building so he can drop off his weapon first. He gets dirty looks sometimes, walking around, though it’s not nearly as bad as when he first returned and it doesn’t bother him on the same level that it used to. When he’s with Naruto or Sakura, he gets less of them, but he can't imagine a sword strapped to his back in the market will do much to help his reputation.

Naruto doesn't allow the easy silence to last. "Y'know, teme, it's really good to have you back in the village. It feels like everything's finally coming together. We'll have to do some fun stuff this summer. And also in the fall!” Gears are turning behind cerulean eyes, and he adds, ”...Hmm, and the winter, too!"

"...Yeah." He stares at the mountain, thinking about what cherry blossom trees look like in summer and fall and winter. It will be nice to see the one across the street change colors throughout the seasons. Or the one on the hill, where they're going later today. He has seen their like numbering in the thousands, scattered everywhere on his journey - he’s highly cognizant of them, for obvious reasons - but he hasn’t been granted the privilege of watching the same one through the whole of a year’s growth cycle in a long time.

"Sakura-chan seems really cheery lately, too. Can't imagine why." The second sentence is said flippantly, without any real conviction, as if Naruto knows exactly why.

Sasuke glances at his teammate, neck warming and heart skipping a little at the mention of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing that Sakura is happy from secondhand sources; it makes him feel like he’s doing something right for once. Maybe not all his impulses are complicated in nature enough to require dissection, as he was accustomed to doing when he was away; spending time with her is one, and he's been indulging it often.

He briefly entertains the idea of outright telling Naruto that they're together, then, but the dobe is moving on before he comes up with the words. "Well, anyways. Wanna spar Monday morning, if neither of us get a mission by then?”

That’s… specific. Maybe he doesn’t need to say anything to him, after all; he’s sure it’s no coincidence that Naruto is asking about the exact time period Sakura is busy training with Ino, probably as aware of her schedule as Kakashi is. Their old sensei might have told him, he supposes, or maybe Sakura said something; Sasuke wonders when he last saw her.

“...Sure. If you think you can handle it.”

The response he gets is a slug on the left shoulder, but it’s not overly hard. Sasuke narrows his eyes in response more out of habit than any real malice. He sees as Naruto’s hand retreats and slips out of a fist that words are written on his palm. He didn’t notice it throughout the morning due to their hands constantly being locked around weapons or thrown in punches, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes; it's likely a grocery list.

Naruto leans against the brick downstairs while Sasuke drops off his sword, and then they head to the main market area as the dobe chatters. It’s fairly busy, it being a Saturday, but it’s not intolerably so; most people are busy eating around now.

Sasuke is completely unsurprised when Naruto beelines straight for the noodles; naturally he would be out of them. He takes the opportunity to procure a blend of wild rice. Thus far he only has white and brown in his own pantry, and he’s been trying to eat it often. He's always liked rice, but it’s high in calories, too, an easy way to try putting on weight. Another variety to choose from would be beneficial.

He trails after his friend to the baking supplies next, where Naruto examines containers of flour and sugar. Sasuke concludes Hinata must bake, because he’s confident any cookie prepared by the dobe could not possibly be edible. While his teammate is occupied, Sasuke turns the corner and procures a half dozen eggs, a large bag of potatoes, and two different varieties of tomatoes. The extra five pounds of weight held in the crook of his arm doesn’t do wonders for his bruised bone situation, but it’s not wholly unbearable; he’s fairly used to dealing with pain.

“Hinata-chan said to go to the gardening stall on the north end,” Naruto says once they’ve paid and exited the building, so they begin a course in that general direction. “She said they have the best perennial bulbs; that means they come back every year!”

Sasuke twitches, surprised he can even pronounce the word perennial if he’s lived this long without knowing what one is.

“Anyways, she wants to plant some, uh…” His voice trails off, and he peeks at his hand, where Sasuke now sees the names of flowers written in feminine writing that has to be Hinata’s.

Of course. Like he could spell the words, let alone read his own sloppy handwriting.

“Iris, phlox, and uh… echo-na-na-chee-ah.”

“Echinachea,” Sasuke corrects dully, giving him a withering look.

“Sure! That! She wants to plant those in the backyard, kind of line the house with them, since the front is looking pretty nice now. She said to get bulbs; they root better. They might bloom this year, but if not, they’ll for sure come in next year!”

“...And she entrusted you with this?” Sasuke asks, raising an eyebrow.

Naruto just laughs, utterly unphased. “Duh, that’s what the list is for, teme. Hinata-chan is super smart like that. Putting it on my hand makes sure I don’t lose it!”

They meander to the northern edge of the market, past the congregation of other stalls selling seeds and garden starters. It's getting towards the end of planting season for Fire Country, but there is still plenty to choose from here, allegorical gates of green swinging open in salutation. They pass some tomato plant starters, already starting to climb their cages, but Sasuke decides against it; his hand is full presently, and the bone still kind of hurts, and none of them are red heirloom tomatoes anyways, being smaller variations like plum or cherry or grape. He likes all tomatoes, honestly, but if he was going to grow one, he’d just want the one of a favorite to worry about. Repotting a starter would also require a planter, which he doesn’t have; another thing to carry.

The stall Naruto leads them to is probably the nicest one there, judiciously laid out and everything labeled neatly with precise calligraphy. The few tables the vendor has are overflowing with perennial starters, but Naruto goes to the three vertical displays of seeds and bulbs, so tall they are at eye level with both of them. They’re filled to the brim with diminutive packages, printed with large pictures of the flowers they contain the beginnings of, along with genus names and common names in smaller text. The blond examines them, surveying his hand, then the display, then back to his hand again in scrutiny.

Sasuke watches, resisting the urge to sigh and waiting for the inevitable.

“Hmm… I guess this would be a lot easier if I knew what any of these looked like. Gonna have to read them all.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and steps forward to point to the section of iris bulbs to start with. He gives him a minute to work out which colors to pick, observing the throng of people entering and exiting around them, young and old and in-between.

Phlox are next; he directs his teammate to the appropriate section, where there are quite a few options of hues. Naruto examines them as if he is making a grand decision transformative in nature, mumbling to himself.

“Hmm… She likes blue and purple. Maybe I should…”

His own gaze wanders as he tunes Naruto out, taking in pictures of begonias and caladium on plastic shiny in the sunlight, before his vision locks on the far display.

He wanders over to it as if his body is moving of its own accord.

There are several varieties of lilies, he learns as he scans the packaging, oriental, trumpet, and what is apparently called nerine. White nerine lilies had been the variety his mother grew, lining their yard with curved porcelain petals, clusters emanating from many single stems.

He sets his groceries at his feet to free up his hand, picking up one of the packages to read the instructions on the back. His arm aches as he does so, but he couldn’t care less.

Nerine lily bulbs require good drainage. If there are still puddles in the prospective planting area 5-6 hours after rain, locate another site, or amend the soil with organic material to raise levels 2-3 inches. Nerine lilies also require soil that is somewhat gritty, though it also must be organically rich. Adding compost may increase nutrient content.

In spring, choose a location in full sun. If you are in a hotter region, site them where they will receive morning sun and afternoon shade, and plant the bulbs with an inch of the slender top above the soil surface. The top of the bulb is the area that looks like the stem of an onion. Install bulbs 8 to 11 inches apart for a massed look.

Nerine bulbs develop foliage that gather sun rays and strengthen the plants during the spring and summer months. Flower stalks develop in the fall. Provide water when the plants are actively growing, and very little when they are dormant.

You may cut the final flower stems to display decoratively. This will not hurt the plants and the cuts last long periods of time indoors. After they finish blooming for the year, cut off any remaining flower stalks. Your plants will rest for the winter months before sending up new growth in the springtime. Over time, nerine lilies will form clumps. They like to be crowded, so don’t feel pressed to divide them unless flower production begins to decrease. Clumps can then be dug, split apart, and moved to other parts of the garden, or shared with friends.

When Sasuke looks up, deep in thought, he notices Naruto searching for what he assumes is echinacea, flitting stiffly at random between the first two displays and scratching his head. Wordlessly with the package of lily bulbs still in hand, Sasuke points to the bottom right corner of the first, where several color selections are.

“Thanks, teme!” Naruto plows back to the specified stand and stoops down comically slowly, though Sasuke barely sees, gaze drawn pensively back to the packet he was examining.

The memorial stone has decent drainage, aside from the occasional hard rain like last weekend; that will become less common as the weather warms, and one or two monsoons a summer never drowned his mother’s lilies. Shade in the afternoon could be an issue, though. There’s a large oak tree on the west side that might cast some protection over it, but he only ever visits under the cover of night, so he’s unsure. He would have to examine the trajectory in person to gauge.

He considers the market bag the groceries were handed to him in earlier, studying it closely.

Carefully, he puts the package back where he found it, though his eyes linger on it. He’s no gardener, not like Sakura is, and besides, his arm hurts.

XXX

He’s leaning up against one of the blue columns outside of the hospital when Sakura emerges at three, sprightly as ever. She’s holding the two journals and the medical text from their first trip to the library; she said yesterday that she needed to return them, but there shouldn’t be any new ones she needs to check out just yet. He hadn’t stayed terribly long after they’d finished the tenmusu because he needed to shower and write his mission report, but they’d made plans to swing by the library and journey back up the hillside to read together again. There was also mention of possibly picking up food afterwards, to take to her place. Hazel Wood must be in her tote, hooked around her shoulder.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets cheerfully. “Whew. It’s getting warm out already.”

“...It is,” Sasuke comments before he extends his hand for her texts, his own already held there, a silent offer to carry them for her.

She blushes as she passes them to him, sliding them into his hand. His eyes drift to the freckle on her cheek, and he wipes his mind blank by sheer willpower alone as they head east. The books aren’t as heavy as the groceries had been earlier, so it doesn’t hurt as much, but he's wondering at this point if the bone might actually have a small crack. He thinks he should ask her to look at it; maybe later, at her apartment.

“My balcony days may be numbered by now, at least until the fall comes,” Sakura observes as they meander.

He contemplates. “...Do you sit out there often?” It is so utterly befitting of her that he thinks he can picture it, her reading out there, surrounded by plants. He wonders if she ever admires the night sky. Their team had stargazed sometimes, on missions that first year as Genin.

Green eyes settle on him from his right. “I like to, when it’s nice out. A lot of times in the summer it gets too hot, though there is an occasional night when it’s cool enough. Fall is really the best for it. You can see the changing leaves from above. Even if it's a chillier day, it’s pleasant with some tea and a blanket in the evening."

He debates for a long moment, but decides against bringing up stout squirrels or chestnut-flavored everything or Naruto slipping on a leaf.

“...It sounds nice,” he comments simply instead, wondering if he’ll be invited to sit with her on her balcony, once fall arrives. They would have to sit kind of close; the space doesn’t seem very big from below, and it's cluttered with greenery.

Sakura smiles up at him, a look that says she agrees with his assessment.

Then, she offers softly, "You can sit out there sometime with me, if you'd like."

His neck warms; all he can do is nod and avert his gaze elsewhere, an abundance of something tender and sweet flaring to life in his belly.

Returning the books barely takes two minutes; they’re wandering towards the outskirts of the mountain in short order. Sakura sprawls in the same spot she did last time, so he takes up the same position, too, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, stable and strong.

And then his eyes catch on another freckle she has, this one near her elbow, and all he can think about is the slightly textured consistency of his ceiling, and whether the impulse to press his lips to her skin without guilt was an okay thing to feel.

She reads and he more contemplates than reads for about an hour, sprawled beneath the scant amount of shade provided by this tree that has lost its petals, trading them in for florets of a greener variety. It’s pleasant, once he can drown his inner disarray of thoughts. He eventually gets through a sliver of his book, though turning the pages is a little cumbersome, tinged lightly with pain. Perhaps he shouldn’t wait until later to ask her to examine his arm.

Sakura finishes her own book, though she keeps the pressed petal between its pages; she must have gotten through more of it while he was on the way to and from Suna. She just reclines there, after, looking up at the sky with her arms at her sides, near exactly the relaxed pose she used to lie in when they were younger.

Sasuke finishes the passage he’s on, and marks his place with the petal she’d plucked from his hair last week, before pointedly setting the text aside and following her eyes to the azure. Fluffy clouds are floating by as the sun inches closer to the west horizon, pushed steadily by the breeze.

“How is Ichika’s recommendation?” She questions.

“...Interesting.” He genuinely is enjoying reading it, despite his aberration.

Her head angles towards him, lying against a gnarled root at a slightly different angle. Her expression is curious, like she’s encouraging him to elaborate.

“Simple, but heavy with metaphors.” He considers for a second, then adds, “You might like it. Poetic.”

Full lips twist upwards. “Maybe I’ll read it next. Her recommendations are usually pretty apt; she gets a good read on people.”

“...How was yours?”

“Hmm.” She pauses, as if thinking it over. “A girl and her mother who get caught up in some bad luck. They inherit an estate - that’s where the title comes from - and supernatural things start happening. It’s kind of a story within a story situation; the grandmother they inherited the house from was an author, so they start going back and reading her writing for clues.”

“...A mystery.” It seems like she’ll read any genre. Mysteries would probably entertain her; she’s always liked to solve things.

She laughs, music to his ears. “Yeah, I suppose it is. It was pretty good. Well written; better than the last one.”

There is a pause.

“...Maybe I’ll read it next,” he echoes, her same words from earlier.

Green sparkles at him, amused before she shifts back towards the firmament.

“...Sounds like a book club.”

It is the most Sakura joke. He huffs a ghost of a laugh as more gauzy clouds drift idly by. It is peaceful, sitting here underneath the same sky as her, observing in easy silence through branches with fresh emerald buds.

And then Sasuke flexes his forearm, shifting slightly, and it still hurts. He considers; she probably won’t mind.

"...I think Naruto cracked my arm bone," he finally confides.

She turns to him, expression fluctuating immediately into one of disquiet, pink brows knotting closer in concern. He blinks and she's standing already, walking over and sitting cross-legged in the nearest open space, an indent in gnarled roots that she navigated through and found a place in as if it were nothing.

Wordlessly, Sasuke holds it out for her to inspect once she’s seated, and she gently rests her fingertips on his forearm.

"It’s from this morning?” Sakura asks, looking concerned in a way that makes his heart thump a little. Or maybe it’s from her hands encircling his skin.

He nods; she must have deduced that they trained earlier. She prods gently before threading green chakra beneath his skin towards the bone, probing for a break.

She frowns. "Oblique fracture in the ulna, though it's very slight and non-displaced.” Her gaze flicks up to him, and all at once, it’s the exam room again, him hyper aware of how close she is to him even though this is clinician Sakura. “I’ll fix it; you really shouldn't have been carrying anything on it."

It takes him a moment to realize she’s referring to him carrying her books earlier, because he’s thinking about the groceries from the market, which were definitively heavier. Her proximity and the aroma of tart berry and the freckle on her cheekbone are all incredibly distracting. Especially the freckle. He peers at her fingers, glowing verdant, and notices one on the inner portion of her right wrist, too.

"...Sorry." He says finally, flicking his eyes back up to her nervously after a long minute is spent mending marrow back together. She inclines her head back down to his arm, apparently accepting his apology for not mentioning it sooner. It's an odd sensation; he can feel the crack fusing from the inside out, ataractic chakra seeping into the diaphysis to fortify.

He feels like he should clarify, so he adds as she works, eyes fixed on her face which has settled in concentration, “I thought it was just bruised at first.” She nods as if that makes sense, working on it for another minute or so without glancing up.

He hopes she's not mad at him. Sasuke shifts his gaze downwards, something in him sinking.

“Flex it, then bend, please,” she requests, not moving her digits; she must need to feel the arm move to determine if it’s healed. He does as she asks and it’s notedly improved, no lingering pain.

“It’s better. Thank you.” He looks upwards just as she does, hoping the jade will still be soft on charcoal.

It is, startlingly so, and she’s flushing all of a sudden, dropping her hands from his arm and rising to her feet a step away, as if she, too, just realized how close they were. It's different here, daylight and not part of their routine like her entryway is becoming.

“You’re welcome,” she says somewhat hastily, complexion darkening. He’s not sure he’s much better; his neck is warm, and he remembers very specifically where each of her fingers had just been on his skin, like the ten points of contact are singed into his epidermis, and likely his grey matter, too.

As he tries to force his pulse to even out, Sakura adds, softly, “You could have just come in with him.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “...What?”

Sakura blinks, countenance appearing as if she is sorting through a problem in her head. Pink dissolves back to her normal coloring.

“Naruto came in with a slipped back rib, earlier today. I assumed it was from sparring with you.” She rolls her eyes, then. “He went and got groceries before coming in; he had them with him. Luckily nothing chilled; he had to wait for a bit.”

"...He didn't say anything about his rib." Now the slow rising and crouching is making more sense.

She sighs, closing her eyes for a second as if something has become clear, but she only replies, "Ah. Of course."

"...Wouldn’t shut up?"

"...Yeah." She turns away slightly, cheeks stained anew for some reason; it makes him curious what their third teammate babbled to her about. "He said as I was kicking him out that he was going to plant flower bulbs with Hinata this afternoon. He showed me the ones he picked. It’s good timing; the perfect time of year to plant some. Pretty soon it'll be too warm."

He lets those words drizzle slowly into his being, a little gentler than a summer monsoon.

"...Our next Hokage can't pronounce echinacea," he eventually tells her.

She chuckles with mirth, a sweet sound he finds relieving; she must have gathered he was present for that endeavor, now, and she can't be too mad at him if he can still make her laugh. Sasuke inwardly hopes she doesn’t gather that he also got groceries; he doesn’t think she’d be very impressed. It was kind of stupid to do that with a questionable arm, in retrospect.

"No," Sakura acknowledges finally, appearing highly entertained. "And he didn’t know what a perennial was until this morning, yet he’s planting an army of them. Probably without reading the directions."

They look over the village together for a lengthy moment in which he considers text printed on the back of a white package.

Then she says his name, so quietly it’s almost a whisper. "Sasuke-kun.”

He angles to her, and sweet jade is on him again, ebbing seafoam cresting as the late afternoon sunlight hits her.

"Thank you for telling me about your arm. In the future, please come to the hospital, if I'm working. You can wait in my office, if you’d prefer. I don't mind; use the window.” Her expression changes to troubled, and suddenly she is no longer the clinician version of Sakura; everything is tinged with something more, something that burns him in its intensity. “You shouldn’t just… suffer in silence, if something hurts. Even if you think it’s nothing. Please tell me."

Oh. She’s not mad, just worried. Heat grazes his ears, and he swallows, staring down at his forearm.

He wants to be close to her. He really does.

"Okay,” he agrees, and means it, carefully meeting green.

They head down the hill together to seek dinner before the rush hits, deciding to go to the yakitori stand she mentioned when he first returned. She chatters about how Naruto wants to have a bonfire in his backyard, once summer’s here and everything is planted.

“...He’s excited about his yard,” Sasuke comments after they’ve ordered, leaning against the wall of the exterior waiting for their takeout. He requested his without the sauce, since Sakura said it’s on the sweeter side for yakitori.

Sakura grins, and she’s really pretty, shadows of a nearby tree dappling her skin, cheeks still red because he paid. It’s only fair; she’s been feeding him. “Yeah, he is. I’d like to see their flowers and garden in the back, eventually. I’m sure once they’ve got it how they want it, they’ll have all kinds of get-togethers back there. Last year we carved pumpkins at their place, instead of at Ino’s and Sai’s; there’s less mess to clean up if it’s outside. He said today that you should come this year.”

“...What?”

She blinks as if remembering something, then smiles sheepishly. “So I never mentioned this, because it happened after I…” She flushes, and she looks away for a second. “...After I sent a letter for the month already, but Sai learned about this artistic thing they do in the Land of Woods, a couple years ago.” Her gaze shifts back to his. “They hollow out pumpkins and carve designs into them, in late October. Warding off evil spirits as they go into the cooler season or something; they put them on their doorsteps with candles in them so the carvings light up the night. It’s odd, but I think it’s become a tradition now. It’s fun, once you get the hang of it. We roast the seeds with salt and Hinata bakes pumpkin bread.”

That sounds entirely odd and completely characteristic of Sai; he supposes there is the artistic angle to consider. Sasuke passed through the Land of Woods three separate times, but never in the fall. “What kind of designs?”

She smiles as if she’s trying not to laugh; his expression must be that of one who is exceedingly perplexed. He supposes it’s not an expression he wears often. “Well, they’re supposed to be scary, I think, but we don’t really do well at making them that way. They’re more funny or decorative. Sai makes pretty good ones, I guess, mean faces with sharp teeth.”

“...What do you carve?”

Her eyes twinkle. “I tried a leaf, the first year, and a crescent moon the second. Sai and I teamed up to carve one for Kakashi-sensei, too, last year; a scarecrow with a cat.”

A crescent moon is not at all what he would have guessed she’d gravitate towards; he thinks immediately of the Six Paths Yin Seal that once adorned a hand he no longer has. Then he comprehends the final part of that sentence.

“...A cat?”

“Oh. Yeah, he got a cat.”

“...His summons are dogs.”

She giggles. “Yeah, Naruto and I thought it was weird at first, too, but he does kind of seem like he’d be more of a cat person overall, the more we thought about it.” Sakura shrugs. “He’s in the village most of the time now, being Hokage, so I guess he thought he could be around enough to take care of one? They’re more low-maintenance than a dog would be. I usually get tasked with feeding it and changing its litter, when he travels to watch the Chunin and Jonin Exams.”

Momentarily, he wonders if Sakura knows what’s under Kakashi’s mask; their old sensei allowing her into his space in his absence may have given her opportunities for some form of low-key reconnaissance on the matter.

Then his brain seizes on another notion, one that’s far more amusing, because she said she teamed up with Sai, and that can only mean one thing.

“...What does Naruto carve?”

Sakura’s grin widens as if she perceives exactly what thought he’s just had. She probably does; she knows him well. “He’s terrible at it. His never look like anything; just orange mush. He loves it, though, and Hinata puts it on their front step anyway.”

He snorts. Figures.

A bell dings, so they peer back in, and sure enough, their food is ready. Sakura steps forward to collect it, thanking the worker, but as she turns, she pauses.

Sasuke follows her gaze, and sees none other than their third teammate in the street, walking their direction and waving emphatically. He’s wearing a different pair of pants, knees absolutely covered in dirt and grass stains.

“Oi, teme! Sakura-chan!”

Sakura glances up to him before swiveling towards the road, their food in hand; Sasuke trails close behind, pushing apart the hanging banners of the stand as he steps beyond the threshold of the restaurant.

“Naruto,” Sakura greets when they’re out in the open.

“...Dobe.”

“Looks like you’ve planted everything,” Sakura says more than asks, gesturing to his pants as evidence.

“Hehe, yep, all of ‘em! It was work, but it will be worth it, later in the year.” Naruto scratches his head, grinning. Sasuke lets those words sink in, too, drenching dead roots.

“And now you’re getting Hinata yakitori as a treat?” Sakura pushes, seeming incredibly amused.

“Well…” Naruto looks away bashfully, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah. Gotta repay her somehow. She has good ideas. I just follow her lead.” He looks back to them, then. “Did you tell teme about all our awesome plans?”

Sasuke’s focus falls to Sakura, who is flushed, biting her lip in a smile.

“I may have started to.”

“Well, good, because our yard is going to be totally the best, and if he thinks he’s getting out of it...” the dobe points at him accusingly, “Then I’ll kick his ass!”

Sasuke scoffs. “As if you could.”

Sakura shakes her head, pink locks fluttering with the motion. “Always with the physicalities... Anyways, I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.”

An uncommonly stretched pause passes where blue eyes zero in on the food container Sakura is holding, before they travel up to the two of them.

The grin shifts to something remarkably tender.

“...Yeah. I’m sure it will be.” He says it with the utmost confidence, like he is as certain about it as he is about the sun rising tomorrow, and Sasuke gets the sense that he is no longer referring to gardening.

The moment passes, and then Naruto is punching them each on the shoulder respectively and sidestepping away towards the yakitori stand. “Anyways, gotta go, so I’ll catch ya later! I’m guessing you have plans of your own.”

Sasuke blinks as their teammate disappears into the restaurant, ears burning a little. When his vision travels down to his right, Sakura is blushing a dark red. She meets his gaze, smiling sheepishly.

They turn to go to her building. The entire way there, Sasuke considers everything in the beginnings of a green that seems endless, nurtured by people from all walks of life. He has been noticing it this whole time, since his return, but now he's thinking about how dull it would be without it, whether it’s dirt roads or lifeless grey granite. This is not the wilds, where seeds sprout unabated. Here, one must put in the work to grow things, find suitable locations and till the soil.

When they reach Sakura’s apartment, his eye lingers on her plants as he follows her inside. She sets the takeout on the table by her window. A shadow of a leaf from the jasmine above them is cast hazily out of focus on her left cheek.

“Would you like any sauce with yours? I could make some teriyaki sauce quick, or I have lemons I’ll be cutting up anyway for mine.”

“...Lemon?” Citrus complements chicken, he knows, but he understands that to mean she’s planning on putting it on hers, over top of the yakitori sauce.

Her lips curve upwards. “I like it on other things, too. It’s good on yakitori.”

So Sakura slices a lemon and it sits on the center of the table between them as they eat. She drizzles her yakitori with three of them, and he takes the other three. The chicken is pretty good, tart with the citrus and seared alongside green onions. It’s still warm, as it wasn’t a long walk to her place at all, a convenient sort of sustenance.

“...What else do you like lemon on?”

She chews thoughtfully, swallowing before answering. “Hmm, a lot of things. Fish, even ones that are usually served with lime. Pork. I like it on vegetables, too. Salads, pasta, rice. Most desserts that include lemon I like, as well.” She pauses again, and adds, “Lemonade, if it’s homemade.”

No wonder they’re always in her fridge. “...And tea.”

His heart flips at the way she smiles at him.

“...And tea,” she agrees.

They watch the streets fill and empty from her window, finishing the meal in a companionable reticence, smelling faintly of citrus rind and shadowed by greenery from above.

He helps her prepare decaffeinated sencha after, trying not to stare at the freckle on her cheek. He’s pondering this morning further, the notions of impetus and yearning, and also the way she says his name, but this time uttered softly under a cherry blossom tree with an invitation into her office, if something hurts.

Sakura cares about him. A lot. Sasuke knows this, has known for years, but it’s the actions of her affection, the way she expresses it purely and simply as if it’s a true north cascading through her veins, that has inched its way into his bone marrow, engraved on the latibule he carved inwardly to avoid dry swallowing life’s more bitter medicines.

As she stirs sugar and honey into her own cup, she asks, “Care for a chess rematch?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it; he nods his assent. It’s time to test something.

They arrange the board together at her table. The first round, Sasuke cautiously plans every move, surveying alternating squares and attempting to predict what strategy Sakura will employ. In some instances, he mirrors her, moving a rook a turn after she does, shifting a pawn out of imminent danger, and so on. It’s a very involved way to play, requiring attentive calculation of each move.

It’s a prolonged match that he eventually loses with a final sweeping motion of her remaining bishop, but it’s fairly close.

“...Again?”

She grins and wordlessly starts setting up the pieces she has captured, so he begins to set up hers. It’s an interesting task, a message of opposites, her setting up his dark figures and him setting up her light ones.

The second round, he simply follows his instincts, negating planning ahead farther than a couple of turns. If he gets an impulse to shift a pawn one way, he does. If his gut tells him to move the knight into her territory or to retreat a rook, he goes with it.

It drags on for the better part of an hour, and ends in a stalemate.

The smile she gives him is breathtaking, a broad and warmhearted validation.

“You’re good,” she comments, jade eyes dancing with joy. He gets the impression that it is not often she gets forced into a draw. He wonders who else she plays with. It can't be Naruto, but maybe Sai or Ino also play.

“...So are you.” He is somewhat reassured now. His impulses used to be ruinous, stemming from anger and anxiety and loss, but perhaps his journey helped in that regard. He just needs to make sure they're rooted in the right things, whether it be logic or affection, and then the major task becomes to feel rather than to overthink.

When he kisses her good night in her entryway, another movie watched and plans for tomorrow later, he doesn’t reach for the freckle the first time, though his hand twitches with the longing to. It’s treasured, this tender pressing of lips that feels like dipping a toe into still water. It is imbued with both of her hands resting on his shoulders again, ten fingertips that have him in her grip more than she could possibly fathom.

He studies her eyes when he pulls away, staring down into soft depths of viridescence. He will drown in them someday, he thinks, slowly but surely working up the courage to wade into the deep end.

The second time he kisses her, he lets himself graze her cheek to truly appreciate the difference, allowing acknowledgment of the impulse, compelled forward rather than backward as if bound by some metaphorical form of northern star situated on the rise of her cheekbone.

Sakura leans into his touch once more as she did yesterday, but this time, she brings up her own hand and delicately lets her fingertips rest atop the outside of his, as if she encourages the caress, thumb brushing against his knuckle as his lips gently brush hers. Her other hand stays resting on his clavicle, a tender embrace, osculant in a way he has hoped for countless times, inclusive of this morning.

It is exactly what he needed, a catalyst of encouragement comprised of a heat that is gentle, coaxing, but still brands him all the same.

Maybe it's okay to want to skim her freckles and more, to allow the affinities he has to breathe. They’re together now; it stands to reason they'll one day venture into territory more uncharted, if he can concede to that kind of vulnerability. Not that he’s anywhere near ready for that - he’s not - but his instincts don’t appear to be all disastrously calamitous. Touching her cheek is something she clearly welcomes.

Sasuke gave in to darker tendencies once. Perhaps it's okay to give in to lighter ones; nothing grows in the absence of light, after all. He brushes a thumb across the high point of her cheekbone once more with her hand encompassing his before they part, embracing a new habit prior to whispering good night.

The way she smiles up at him, skin aflush and glimmering eyes, is everything.

XXX

He inspects the stone and the soil surrounding it for a long while, heavy-heartedly trying to ignore the encyclopedia of names in favor of envisioning what it would look like with lilies surrounding it. Less lugubrious, probably. The trajectory of the tree’s shadow would touch the stone in the evening, he sees, now that he’s here in person. He only ever haunts this place after nightfall when there's less chance of someone happening upon him. He wishes it was more secluded for that reason; maybe healing happens in the sunshine, and that’s why he still struggles with coming here after so many years, creature of the night that he is.

Evenings with Sakura feel like healing, though, and they linger after hours consistently. Maybe next time he’ll visit his dead kin at twilight, a brittle sort of compromise.

He'll see if the impulse still grips him tomorrow, and then decide. He knows his mother would like them. Itachi would, too, although it never feels like he's here, not the same way that it feels like the rest of them are, the air weighted with an accursed brand of perfume pouring outward in all directions.

White lilies may be able to touch the light in his stead for the time being. Even if they don’t grow, he at least will know he tried, and there is always next year. By then, he may have the capability of asking Sakura if she would help him; she’s clearly a capable gardener, and there should be less sediment, if he puts in the work.

By the time he leaves for his apartment, a thin layer has loosened.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

retrospective & predictions

Since we're on a hiatus week (between 320 and 321) I feel like waxing poetic about the depth and growth of bkdk for a bit. Especially because it seems like we’re right on the edge of their biggest development yet, I’m getting the urge to lay all my perspectives and insights I’ve picked up from others out on the table. This is ultimately only my subjective interpretation of subtextual material in canon, though. If you’ve never quite understood what people see in their dynamic and you’re actually open to hearing me out, maybe from this you can at least see where we’re coming from. And if you don’t like my takes after all, well, we’ll see who’s right in the coming chapters, won’t we? What I have to say can be taken platonically or romantically; I appreciate both. 

putting it under the cut, since it’ll be long:

At the risk of projecting, I want to start by examining a couple things based partly on personal experience.

From many different directions, I often hear people expressing that Deku’s persistent attachment and admiration for Bakugou is baffling at best. Despite the bullying, despite Bakugou’s loud, rude, and uncompromising personality, he still puts effort into their relationship and frequently describes him as amazing. It seems like Deku himself is aware of this as he’s said things along the lines of how he’s difficult, BUT... etc. Although I don’t think it’s exactly that Deku finds Bakugou’s personality hard to be around, but that he’s deliberately expressing patience for Bakugou’s emotional turmoil. 

I have to say I know what this sort of patience is like, as I went through it with someone I love. I only chose to put up with their behavior because I decided the possibility of what our relationship could be was worth it. I wasn’t blind or submissive to how they treated me, and I wasn’t coerced. I simply expressed myself and established my boundaries while still allowing them the opportunity to join me in my world once they got over their own hangups. And guess what? It worked out in the end. That doesn’t mean there aren’t circumstances where it’s better to cut ties, but I want to stress that true reconciliation is possible sometimes. I used to worry that other people around me thought I was delusional for seeking it, but what really helped was my therapist reminding me that I’m smart and strong. So I think Deku deserves to feel the same. In a way this is his whole mission in life, his approach to being a hero as well as his personal relationships.

Let me also be clear though that I don’t mean Deku is only tolerating Bakugou’s personality, his mannerisms, the parts of him that will likely never change. I’m drawing a line between those things and his emotional state (they so rarely align anyway, but I’ll get to that later). In fact, I think Bakugou’s general attitude is part of what Deku admires. This is gonna be hard to explain without inserting personal experience too, sorry. As a writer myself I’ve noticed I’m drawn to writing characters that are brazen and bold and don't mind telling people off. Really it’s because I operate in the world in the polar opposite way. I try not to draw attention to myself, I’m quiet, and I’m a people-pleaser. People who project confidence, especially in an impolite sort of way, fascinate me. It’s good to take cultural context into account, too: I've heard people who’d know better than me that part of the reason Bakugou is the most popular character in the Japanese fandom is likely because he contradicts a lot of their social norms. His disregard is refreshing and cathartic. I can speculate that Deku has a similar point of view based on what he thinks but does not admit about Bakugou being his image of victory and how this sometimes makes him mimic Bakugou’s speech and mannerisms: 

There’s also the bit in this fight where Deku realizes he's the only one able to receive Bakugou’s emotions. This is because he’s the most intimately familiar with him and his situation, but I think there’s another layer. Deku, as we know, has a self-sacrificing tendency, and in the current chapters we’re seeing the worst side of that. But let’s also not forget that to an extent, it can be a positive trait: resilience. When it comes to Bakugou, he has an almost comical ability to dodge the potential fallout of his outbursts. The example we all jump to (and fight about..) is how in ch1, apart from the initial shock of Bakugou suggesting he jump off the roof, the most he reacts is to criticize him for saying such a ridiculous thing. However, I think their interaction post- sludge villain is a lot more interesting:

Note two things: 1, in his head, Deku is practically making fun of how Bakugou’s acting as he stomps away without waiting for a reply. It doesn’t faze him. 2, Deku thinks, optimistically, that he can now focus on a different career choice. This is astonishing really. Up to this point, none of Bakugou’s attempts to put him down have worked; he just kept pursuing his dream. The only reason Deku concedes in this moment it because for the first time, he has been shown that he really couldn't do anything in a fight against a villain. All Might told him he couldn't be a hero (although he’s literally about to take that back in the next few pages lol) and the other heroes at the scene gave him a lecture about it too. It was those experiences, and not Bakugou’s words, that truly affected him. And when All Might tells Deku he can be a hero after all, it’s not thinking of Bakugou’s bullying that makes him sob and fall to his knees, it’s the memory of his own mom never telling him those words he so desperately needed to hear. Having spent most of their lives together, Deku must have been aware all this time that Baukgou was influenced by larger societal forces rather than a core judgement, so he didn’t take it personally. He separated the person from the action, and because he’s resilient and patient, he is thus equipped to handle Bakugou’s emotions. It’s a testament to his maturity and emotional intelligence, really. 

But I can almost hear some of you saying, “that doesn’t mean Deku should have to be the bigger person here!” Correct! Just because Deku is perfectly alright bearing all of that, doesn’t mean atonement-era Bakugou sees it this way. We can track his awareness of Deku’s care and selflessness as follows-

The bridge scene, when they’re little kids: Bakugou conflates Deku’s heroism with pity, and subsequently thinks Deku is looking down on him because Bakugou’s own insecurity makes him defensive.

The Sludge Villain, and also Deku vs. Kacchan Part 1: Bakugou witnesses first-hand how easily Deku jumps to risk his own life, but still thinks he’s being looked down on. 

The Sports Festival: Bakugou fights Uraraka and recognizes her endurance strategy and refusal to give up as very Deku-like. He’s half right. He thinks Deku advised her in the fight, when in reality she just mimicked Deku because she admired him. I want to draw attention to his very sober comment about her not being frail. It’s a great endearment of Uraraka’s character and Bakugou’s respect for her when others didn’t take “fighting a girl” seriously, but it also reflects on his opinion of Deku. Deku isn’t weak either. He never was.

Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2: Deku finally corrects him about the whole looking-down-on-him thing, and Bakugou is informed that Deku’s selflessness is in fact the reason All Might chose him. Since Bakugou had been in search of what he himself was “doing wrong” for All Might to favor Deku over him, he now has to reconcile the fact that selflessness is a heroic trait, and moreover something he lacks. This is also possibly the first time Bakugou is able to see his past actions toward Deku as bullying since he previously thought it was more mutual. Additionally, Bakugou can now link Deku’s selfless behavior to what he perceived as pity/contempt, and realize that Deku has been giving him A LOT of grace. Maybe too much. Maybe more than Bakugou deserves, and definitely more than Deku should have to. Holy heck- now Bakugou has to figure out how to live up to all the faith that’s been placed in him. 

Subtextually, we can see Bakugou’s feelings about atonement reflected in the Todoroki family:

1, Shouto is another example of Deku growing a friendship using his selflessness (since their fight in the sports festival) and their relationship is being acknowledged here where it hasn’t been in Bakugou’s situation. Perhaps Bakugou is wishing it could be so simple for him, to be able to thank him for being his friend like that. Deku saying the pleasure is all his also probably calls to mind how a mere apology from Bakugou would probably be dismissed because that’s just the kind of accommodating person Deku is. Bakugou has to operate more quietly in order to actually make up for their past. I personally don’t interpret this scene as Bakugou being jealous of Deku and Shouto’s friendship, exactly, just the lack of emotional baggage. Side note, Deku and Fuyumi are kinda similar in their desire to repair relationships. I like that she’s the one to give him some credit. 

2, With the common terminology, this can be interpreted as Bakugou receiving a model for atonement, one that is about action, and nothing to do with receiving favor or forgiveness. It’s a sense of duty. 

Many of the above sentiments are repeated in the flashback conversation between All Might and Bakugou right before Bakugou’s sacrifice. 

Bakugou acknowledges his bullying and that it happened because of his own insecurities, but aside from that, it’s interesting he neither confirms nor denies All Might’s suggestion that he’s trying to atone, or that Deku doesn’t see it that way. All Might is a bit of an unreliable mentor sometimes, but I don’t think he’s misreading here. Rather, Bakugou is displaying his tendency to hold back when talking about things that would make him really emotional. Besides, admitting to what he’s doing kind of defeats the purpose. He isn’t seeking acknowledgement. All Might has gotten to the crux of the issue here when pointing out that Deku doesn’t recognize the atonement, likely because Deku doesn't think Bakugou even needs to atone. Am I reading into it too much to say Bakugou looks wistful at this? It’s kinda frustrating sometimes trying to interpret Bakugou’s actions because he’s so paradoxical. Loud and in your face, but also extremely reserved. Sometimes I feel like I’m grasping at thin air, but hey, being hard to figure out is part of his intrigue as a character. The simplest way to look at him is to assume that unless he’s really showing vulnerability, he’s probably deflecting and hiding something.

Speaking of Bakugou’s tendency to to hold back emotional stuff, there’s his apparent lack of issue with Deku calling him Kacchan. Maybe to begin with, in his warped perception of things where he thought they hated each other, Bakugou saw it as Deku’s way of getting back at him for calling him “useless,” and didn't dare give any indication that it actually bothered him. However... consider how betrayed Bakugou has appeared when he was noticeably thinking Deku was looking down on him- the bridge scene, and the beginning of their first year at UA when he thought Deku was hiding a quirk all along. He looks shocked and hurt. That kind of emotion couldn’t be invoked by someone Bakugou didn’t actually care about his relationship with. “Kacchan” comes from a long time ago, before their relationship was strained, so it’s connotations are pure. Maybe somewhere deep down, Bakugou has always been hoping that Deku’s continued use of the nickname was not simply a matter of habit or teasing, but a vestige of friendship they’re both clinging to, and Bakugou himself was too afraid to admit to himself that he felt this way about it, so he mostly ignored it. (These are not original thoughts I am having here lol, this is a common interpretation. I’m just laying everything out like I said.) 

And now we turn to the current situation. Personally, I’ve been looking frantically back and forth between them wondering who’s going to break down first (Deku vs. Kacchan Part 3, this time it’s just a fight to get the other person to cry? ha.) Both have looked like they’re approaching a breaking point for some time. Also, I’ve addressed this before, but I think it’s significant that Bakugou is no longer wearing his mask with his hero costume, in contrast to Deku recently donning his own. It feels symbolic of Bakugou about to be upfront about how he feels.

The question is, what is it going to take to get Deku to accept help? If you ask me, Deku has dug himself so deeply into the I’m-doing-this-for-everyone-else’s-safety-and-smiles hole, no common sense argument can possibly reach him. By the end of 320, Deku’s mask is off, and we can see how desperate he truly is. But he has not cried, yet. I predict we’re going to see a bit more of his defiance, this time on full display on his face as the remaining class members and his other friends take their turns. But then I think Bakugou has to be the one to break down so Deku can witness his actions having the opposite effect he intended. People have been pointing out that Deku is currently ignoring Bakugou, and oof, that’s gotta be intentional. Regardless of what Bakugou says, it’s going to be wrapped up not only in his understanding of Deku’s self-sacrifice, but also the betrayal Bakugou feels at being ignored/left behind that ironically echoes his previous perception of being looked down on, as well as a need to express how much he cares about Deku before it’s too late. He must show that the two of them are inseparable because they both act to save each other without thinking, and both feel like losing the other would be like dying themselves. All Might may have been right when he told them they could learn from each other after Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2, but he didn’t fully realize that idea by making sure they stuck by each other for support and balance. 

I can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when they do finally get to that point, totally in synch and in tune with each other. They’ll be a powerful force no one is quite prepared for. Who knows when that will be, or even which chapter will be their big showdown, but I know the day is coming.

To speculate even further, I think the 2nd user is going to be really important really soon. And no I don’t mean to suggest that the 2nd user is Bakugou. But I do think their resemblance is key. Okay this is gonna be convoluted...

See how 2nd is the only one still standing? I think that’s symbolic of him withholding his quirk. Deku may not even know what it is at this point, let alone have unlocked it. Given that 2nd approves of Deku’s strategy at this point, it seems odd for him to withhold his quirk based on lack of faith. I think if his quirk was something that would help Deku in combat, he would have shown it to him already like the others did. So what if those gauntlets of his are support items that are meant to make up for his lack of a combat-oriented quirk, rather than to augment it? Mind you, I still have no idea what his mysterious power might be, but I’m dead set on it not being explosion-y. Regardless, I think 2nd looking like Bakugou is more about aiding some grand visual parallel, so! You know how 2nd and 3rd were probably intending to do away with Yoichi but 2nd changed his mind as soon as they made eye contact? This is really a long shot, but I wonder if 2nd’s quirk has something to do with that exchange. Maybe it’s something psychological, or some 6th sense about people he meets. So... in that way 2nd’s quirk could play a role in bkdk reaching a deeper understanding? Idk! But it could be significant at least that 2nd left Yoichi’s question about why he reached out to him unanswered. 

One more thing- while I was gathering screenshots I found this. I think “you’re the last one I’m telling” might be foreshadowing for Bakugou revealing his hero name to Deku and it being a Big Deal:

As for other lingering threads in the overall plot right now, such as the UA traitor, Stain, whatever Tsuyu is apparently about to do, All Might’s car maybe in the background of the last page of 320... man I have no idea. All I know is there’s literally 320 chapters’ worth of build-up to this confrontation that can’t be interrupted. 

See you next week <3

[bokutosworld]

then and now | kuroo t.

pairing: kuroo tetsurō x f!reader word count: 1863 words, fluff! mutual pining!  warning: manga spoilers, with mention of kuroo’s timeskip occupation summary: always the bridesmaid, never the bride. you thought your time would never come until someone from your past comes along and brings up something you’ve long forgotten. OR where you and kuroo make a silly marriage pact and he shows up after years apart to make it come true.  

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.” 

The church bell tolls, white doves are released, and joyful cheer and applause erupts from the crowd as the newlywed couple steps out from the cathedral. The now husband-and-wife gaze at each other full of love, and it is a sight guaranteed to make one envious and long for that same kind of affection. 

But to you, it’s a scene that you’ve seen so many times that it already feels like a short film played on repeat. For the past year, you’ve lost count of how many weddings you’ve attended – whether as a guest or part of the bride’s entourage – that you’ve acquainted yourself with the workings of the event. 

Heck, you’ve even memorized the readings of the priest that if they ever need a replacement, you can be the stand-in and officiate the program. 

However, this wedding was different. Your best friend of more than fifteen years is the one who walked down the aisle, and you’re more emotional than you expected you’d be. Earlier in the morning, she woke you up, feeling sentimental, and demanded a pep talk. It was laughable because, more than her, you thought it was you who needed that assurance as you sent off your childhood friend to a new journey in her life. 

The whole ordeal felt surreal and somehow, a tad more personal, because it wasn’t just any bride – this was the same girl you grew up with, the one you’ve seen in diapers, the one who held your hand in the playground, the person who you always ran to for boy troubles. Watching her exchange vows and rings felt like a coming to life of a scrapbook page, a long-awaited dream that you’ve talked about together in sleepovers where none of you really slept. 

It made you wonder if you will ever march down the same aisle towards the waiting arms of your beloved.  

---

“What a wedding, huh?” 

The hotel reception was no different to the ceremony that took place prior. This time again, you wore the bride’s maid-in-honor hat and only after making sure that everything – that included the food, drinks, and entertainment – were in place did you take your place on the table and chatted with your old friends from high school. 

The conversation started off with comments on how grand, intimate, and special the ceremony was. They talked about how it was wedding season, counting just how many of their schoolmates have already been wed. And before you knew it, eyes were on you and you had an inkling of what would follow. 

“So,” Yoshioka, your former student council president, turned towards you. “You’re the only bachelorette left in our batch. We’re just curious.”

You laughed awkwardly, “No, please don’t expect a wedding invitation from me anytime soon. I’m still happily single.” The smile you wore felt strained, but whether the other girls recognized it or not, they chose to not comment further. 

“Besides, it’s a great source of joy for me just being able to see you guys get married.” Noticing that the lights have begun to dim and focused on the spot on the stage, you clapped your hands, “Now, let’s just enjoy Yukie’s wedding, alright! Look, they’re coming out.” 

As soon as the couple walked to the floor for their first dance, you heaved a sigh of relief and slumped in your cushioned chair. They moved gracefully as one across the dance floor, seemingly lost in their own world as they gazed deeply in each other’s eyes and swayed to the tune of the love song. 

You thought back to the conversation earlier and weirdly, you felt a pang inside. Truth is, in every wedding you’ve attended, you can’t help but feel wishful. You consider yourself successful in almost every aspect of your life but sometimes, it can feel dejecting when you return home to an empty apartment at the end of a tough workday. 

A part of you craved to make that little girl’s dream come true of wearing the wedding dress that you’ve designed, staying up all night for a bridal shower, and walking down the aisle to where your lover was waiting. 

When the couple’s first dance ended, the host entered the stage and the program officially began. You could only hope that hours would pass faster. 

---

Two hours into the reception and you can already feel the shots kicking in your system. 

It wasn’t a really good idea downing five straight shots of tequila. At first, you thought it would quell your nerves, make you let loose and be the funnier version of yourself as you stepped to the podium to deliver your congratulatory speech to the couple. 

In retrospect, it looks like the drink did its job as you managed to emit laughter and emotional tears from the crowd as you reminisced on your relationship with the bride, recounting the story of how she fell deeply in love and decided that he was the one. 

But now, hunched in your seat with head on your hands, you were seemingly tipsy and all you could think about was escaping outside for some fresh air. 

So, you did. When the groom’s best man took the stage, you saw this as an opportunity to quietly slip to the balcony. 

Shutting the door behind you with a quiet thud, you eyed the empty balcony and sat towards the nearest bench. The surface was a bit cold as the city was now ushering the season of fall, signaling the arrival of long nights and chilly evenings. You shivered slightly and tucked your coat closer to your body as you stare at the darkness. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been outside until you heard the door open and in came a tall, attractive, and oddly familiar man. His face held a warm smile as you noticed that his gaze was directed towards you. 

“Long day?”   

And it was only until he stepped closer and stood in front of you, the moonlight illuminating his face and accentuating his features, that you realized who he was. 

“Tetsurō?!”   

When was the last time you saw the Kuroo Tetsurō? You racked your brain for your last encounter with him and your memories point to your high school graduation. All of a sudden, you felt small and your surroundings became hot as you stood in front of him. Your former childhood neighbor. Former best friend. Former crush. 

Not that he had any idea about that last item. 

“I thought I saw you earlier before the reception started,” he made himself comfortable on the bench, patting the space beside him to urge you to sit as well. “But it’s been so long since I last saw you so of course I thought I was hallucinating. Then you gave a speech on stage – which by the way, I thought was awesome, you’re still as witty as you were before – and my suspicions were confirmed.” 

You were breathless. Speechless. What were the odds that your reunion with him would be at a wedding? 

“Did Yukie send you the wedding invitation?”  

His laugh echoed in the darkness of the night, “Yeah, she did. It was nice to see familiar faces again.” He stared back at you, “I missed everyone.” I missed you, he wanted to say. 

You hummed in agreement and without realizing, the two of you engaged in a comfortable conversation with Kuroo leading just as he always did. Being charming just as he always was. Telling you stories from the part of the past that you didn’t know. Catching you up with his present where he now works in the sports promotion division of Japan Volleyball Association. 

A small part of you was relieved to know that Kuroo was doing well and successful just as you always hoped he would be. Years of no contact with the boy that stole your heart from day one certainly left you lonely. You wouldn’t say it out loud but he was part of the equation of why you still haven’t tied the knot. It was silly but you always thought that no one could measure up to him. 

Absentmindedly, you started fiddling with your fingers, a habit you’ve formed when you were feeling cold, and Kuroo noticed. And just as he always did back then, he enveloped your hands with his and brought them to his lips to blow warm air on them. 

“That better?” 

Your heart threatened to flutter, “Yeah, thanks.” 

After a long while of silence, Kuroo spoke. “I see there’s still no ring on your fourth finger.” He was now nonchalantly stroking your hands, letting his fingers slip in yours. 

You coughed nervously, averting your eyes from his deep ones. “Well, I haven’t really found anyone.” 

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.” Oh no, be still my heart, you thought.

Kuroo went on, “Remember that silly pact we made on the night before graduation?” 

Your mind takes you back on that evening when you and Kuroo were sitting on the rooftop, away from the noisy crowds and drunk soon-to-be college students. This was your thing, enjoying the calmness and admiring the stars spread out in the night sky. 

That evening, you and Kuroo talked about the uncertain future that lied ahead. That evening, you bared your soul to him, letting him in on your worries and you fell apart in his comforting presence. He, as always, acted as your anchor, assuring you that he would always be your biggest supporter and that he’d always cheer on you even from afar. 

That evening, with the two of you drunk on the excitement and the many possibilities for the new chapter of life, he brought up a proposal.

“I have a crazy idea.” Kuroo linked his pinkie finger with yours. “If we’re still single and not yet married by the age of 35, I’ll find you and we’ll get married.”  

Swept away in the moment and the thrill of the idea, you agreed and sealed the proposal with a harmless kiss. 

“You still remember that?” You questioned, not expecting him to actually remember that silly pact. Not expecting him to be holding on to that agreement. 

“Sometimes, I wonder where we could be now if I just manned up and asked you out that night instead of pulling that act.” He holds your gaze, careful as he brings a hand to cup your cheek. “I’ve liked you for the longest time. And if you’re still available, if you’ll still have me, I am yours.” 

“But we’re not yet 35, Kuroo,” you teased. He chuckled and playfully shoved you before bringing you in an embrace. 

“I’ve decided years ago. You’re the only one for me,” he pulls away. “I’m sorry it took me a long time.” 

And that night, it wasn’t only your best friend that went home feeling the happiest girl in the world. 

Because there was Kuroo who was ready to make up for lost time and give you a reason to look forward to your trips back home.  

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction - BONUS MOMENTS

PSA: To all new readers, you don't have to read the series (link below) to understand this, however it would help so that you can understand the preconceived emotions behind the chapter!

The Proposal | la proposta

warnings; none word count; 1703 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. link to fic masterlist here

13th July 2024, Germany

Amelia and Ben had found themselves experiencing a slight bit of deja vu. The night before the final match of the UEFA European Championship, Amelia was sat in her hotel suite, finalising her preparations for the following evening. A rematch between the Three Lions and The Azzurri. Who would have thought that three years after the last final, the same two teams (give or take a few players) would be in the exact same position.

The difference this time, Amelia had more to think about than just her brother’s feelings. Her relationship with Ben had grown throughout the 3 years that they had been officially together. Countless family holidays shared together, and with each other's respective families had since become a thing of the past as they had successfully managed to merge both the White’s and the Chilwell’s together to create one big happy family. Ben had asked Amelia to move in with him only a year into their relationship, and although outsiders might think it was fast the couple could only disagree with them. They took each stage of their relationship as it came and when it came, just the two of them how it should be.

6 months after moving in together they had adopted a dog together from the local animal rescue centre, a black Labrador called Maverick who was bi-lingual and responded to both English and Italian, much to Ben’s dismay. Amelia began teaching both of her boys (Mav & Benj) simple words in the language of love  and Ben had a harder time retaining it than the pup. Nevertheless, he loved hearing Amelia’s voice when she spoke to him in Italian and it was something he hoped he could hear every day for the rest of his life.

Amelia had continued her role at Chelsea FC as a tactical analyst for the first team, and Chelsea had honored their promise to the girl to allow her to work in depth with the academy talent which is something she found very rewarding and the part she loved most about her job. Of course she loved being around her friends and helping them achieve their dreams but there was something about fostering youth talent that made Amelia really proud to be in the position that she was, to help these young kids from all walks of life make it in the big scary world of professional football. The smile on their faces when they get a call up to an older division, the tears shed by their parents as they wave them off to go and live with their host family nearby Cobham facility, the same eyes that leak a whole different set of tears as they sign their first professional contract with the club - it makes it all worth it.

Something that was eerily similar to the last time Amelia was sat in her hotel room the night before the European Championship Final is that she was, once again, the tactical analyst for the Italian National Team. This time, however, there was no knock on her door with Federico Bernardeschi on the other side waiting to bring her to the English National Team’s base so she could have it out with her brother and Kyle Walker. Thankfully, her relationships with all of the England team had remained intact but that was largely due to another no-contact ban being enforced between her and the Three Lions. This meant that she hadn’t had a chance to talk to any of her friends, let alone her boyfriend Ben, in three weeks. It was painful for both parties, but necessary to ensure that there was no untowards activity or information being shared.

When Amelia was first offered the job she had sat on it for days before making a decision to rejoin the national team. Ben had actually been the one to push her to accept it, it was only something that would make her life better and he didn’t want her to miss out on any opportunity that came her way - even if it meant that the two of them had to be apart both physically and digitally for 3 weeks. That was the thing that held Amelia back from accepting the position on the spot, she would miss the person that became her right hand man. But Ben’s encouragement made the last few weeks easier, and also made Amelia realise just how ready she was to give herself to him...officially.

Marriage had been something that they had both discussed prior as a natural conversation between two people in a relationship that they could see was obviously heading in that direction already, so it was something that was always in Amelia’s mind. She had found herself at florists buying flowers for their dining room table and absent-mindedly thinking about the perfect wedding flowers for her bridal bouquet. However much to Amelia’s dismay, Ben was yet to ask her the most important question of her life and these three weeks apart have made her more desperate than ever to become Mrs Chilwell.

14th July 2024, Signal Iduna Park, Dortmund Germany

A torturous 90-minute match of football later and the Azzurri had done it, back-to-back UEFA European Champions. The only goal of the match coming from her midfield-maestro Jorgi, which was the direct result of a misplay from Declan Rice meaning the ball fell at the feet of Jorginho as he was directly in front of the goal, Jordan Pickford was no match for the beautifully crafted strike which isn’t anything towards Pickford, no keeper was stopping that ball from going in - it was just that good.

This time however, she was the one being consoled by her brother. The pressure of the situation getting on top of her, 3 weeks of no contact with Ben & seeing him for the first time out on this pitch but not being able to kiss him was getting to her, the knowledge that she was again partly to blame for their heartache. Her brother had seen the look in Amelia’s eyes when the whistle blew and the entire bench of the Italian team ran onto the pitch to congratulate the players, she had remained behind. Wrapping his arms around his little sister as she sobbed into his jersey because she was too empathetic for her own good was not how he predicted the outcome of the evening at all, but he was glad he was there for her. Pulling away from her, he tidied up her face and sent her on her way out to the pitch to wrap her Italian friends up in the hugs that they so well deserved, fully aware of the events to follow the wrap up awards ceremony that same night.

______________________________________________________________

I found myself standing in the centre circle at the Borussia Dortmund home ground, with an Italian flag wrapped around my shoulders and confetti all over the floor at my feet. Looking around at the fans who had stayed behind so they could meet their idols, I could not believe my luck in this world.

“I hope you’re not considering a job out here in Dortmund, Mils? I possibly couldn’t be away from you any longer” Ben spoke from behind me, pulling me out of my trance. I whipped my body around at lightning speed and launched myself at my boyfriend, my soul mate.

“Ben” I whispered into his ear as he lifted me from the ground, feet dangling at his mid shin and my arms wrapped around his shoulders so tightly as if to convey all of the hugs we had missed out over the last few weeks apart.

“Mils, I’ve missed you so much.” He said back to me, expressing the exact same sentiments as I possessed. He put me back on the floor and began to push me away from him, in my desperate attempt at a longer hug I wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled myself back in.

“No Mils, I need to see your face as I do this.” He laughed, pushing me off him again and taking a step back from me.

“Benj, what are you doing?” I questioned him, not really believing my own thoughts as to what was about to happen.

“Amelia, my brilliant Amelia. The past three weeks have done nothing but made me realise I never want to spend a day without you again. There are many ways to be happy in life, but all I need is you.  You are my sunshine, you make me unbelievably happy, you make my good days great and my hard day's worth it just to see your smile in our kitchen at the end of it. Your brain is the most beautiful thing I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I hope our future daughter turns out exactly like you so that I have another you to love.”

Ben had descended to one knee as I stood before him, both hands raised to my face to cover my shocked by bright smile and both eyes stuck directly on his own. I hadn’t noticed the crowd of our closest people begin to gather around us to watch the show.

“So in front of God…” Ben nodded his head slightly, I turned my head to see he was referring to Paolo Maldini and shook my head with a little giggle which was copied by everyone else around us.

“...our family and closest friends I want to ask you the question that I know you’ve been patiently waiting for - will you marry me?” Ben pulled out the most perfect ring from a box that I hadn’t even noticed in his hands.

Dropping myself so that I was crouched and on both knees in front of him, I grabbed his face with both of my own hands and pressed the firmest kiss to his lips. My tears ran down my face and probably all over his, he kissed me back. They say a picture says a thousand words, and while I hoped that at least one of our friends had managed to snap a few of this moment, my kiss said only one word...Yes.

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 19

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 19

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4274

Summary: Life settles into routine as summer comes in Wisconsin.

Warnings: FLUFF, swearing, some smut

           You’d never been so aware of the date after that, somehow feeling like you’d reset your circadian rhythm to know precisely how long two weeks was. Mercifully on the part of the universe, Dean had been right about the lack of reset function as long as you stayed within the same mind; once, just to try, you had entered Sam’s dream and found that Sam Barbie and Sam Mike hadn’t met Dean yet.

           At Dean’s request Sam put a huge amount of effort toward ‘being normal,’ integrating into the community in a more purposeful way. You became friendly with a couple cheerful hairdressers from the salon in the next town over when they started coming to the bar for after work drinks and Sam began getting invited to the poker games Steve hosted. One of your favorite of these new habits was going to the farmer’s market dutifully every week. It reminded you every time of how simple this new life was, where you had spare mental capacity to think about whether you wanted nectarines or peaches because there was no terror dangling just overhead. It also helped distract you from all-consuming thoughts of seeing Dean on alternate Sunday nights, the way your body felt like it vibrated with anticipation for the few days before.

           The two of you had been going for months by the first market in July, long enough to know all the first names of the regular vendors and greet them as you went. You were feeling somehow even more acutely anxious-excited at the upcoming Sunday, Dean having told you both last time that he had a surprise planned. It encouraged you to give more of a concerted effort to linger at every single booth, extend every single moment of killed time you could get from the outing. Sam let you lead the way, ring and pinky finger loosely linked into yours as you walked up and down the aisles of tents and tables in the overgrown gravel parking lot. He had a canvas bag half-filled with beets, green beans, some local honey, and a small carton of apricots. You paused to lean into his chest, waiting for Sam to bend down and kiss you in front of a table of essential oils decorated with macrame. The next one caught your eye, some hand-hewn jewelry, and you pulled him gently along.

           “What do you think?” you asked, holding up some earrings clearly too gaudy to match your style with an exaggeratedly fashionable face.

           “I think those really capture your essence, yeah,” Sam smiled.

           “Or maybe this?” You slipped your hand into a heavy bangle absolutely covered in turquoise that felt like wearing an ankle weight.

           He hitched the bag up on his shoulder and watched the show you put on for him, sweeping some hair back from your neck to let you see a set of earrings in the tiny mirror on the table. His gaze flicked over the wares and he gingerly picked up a small gold band from a tray. It was probably the most understated piece on the table, and definitely the one most likely to fit with the no-nonsense jewelry you tended to wear—the things you were drawn to being more sentimental reminders than ostentatious presentation, intended to be put on once and never taken off.

           “I think this one looks the most like you,” Sam hummed, offering it up for you to try on. The band was medium-thick with rounded comfort edges and when you slipped it on it fit perfectly, just barely tight enough to feel exactly secure on your finger. He was right; it looked good on your hand like you had re-found an old piece that you’d lost, and you considered it for a second before you realized Sam was talking to the woman behind the table as she finished a transaction with a trio of teenaged girls getting matching woven bracelets.

           “That one’s part of a set,” she cooed over to him, her hands resting in a homemade apron covered in embroidered flowers. “They should really go to the same home.”

           You were impressed at Sam’s ability to keep himself from rolling his eyes at that kind of faux sentimental bullshit, but she had already turned her back to you, rifling in another box under the plastic table. She turned around with a larger copy of the ring and darted out, grabbing Sam’s hand quickly enough that he almost stumbled forward as she started to slip it onto his finger.

           “Oh, I don’t really wear jewelr—” he started helplessly.

           “See? Meant to be, it fits perfectly.” She clasped her hands in front of her chin excitedly, beaming over the table at you and Sam. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the expression on his face as he tried inconspicuously to get the ring off.

           “Um—wow, that’s really on there—how much for that one?” Sam asked, awkwardly pointing to the ring on your finger with his pinky as he kept working to try to get his off.

           “$50 for the both of them.”

           “Even the one has gotta be more than that,” he insisted, based on the displayed prices of the gaudy jewelry you’d played around with.

           “I’d feel better knowing they were being appreciated together than I would with the money.”

           You looked up at Sam with the kind of melting cotton candy look you felt like had been plastered to your face for weeks, soft and gooey and something you would’ve made fun of a stranger for. He abandoned trying to get the ring off and tongued a molar before pulling out his wallet and dropping 5 $20 bills on the table, pushing them across with the customer service smile he used at the bar. “Thank you, they’re, uh, they’re beautiful.”

           She only unclasped her hands to stuff the bills in the apron, mouthing a “thank you” at the extra money and winking at Sam as the two of you walked away from the booth.

           “Should we get you a big chain? Or I could pierce your ears with an ice cube and an apple back at the cabin,” you teased, getting used to the way the ring felt on your hand.

           Sam couldn’t keep from rolling his eyes over a smirk. “I really can’t get it off.”

           “I think maybe you just wanted to match me.”

           He stopped walking and you spun around to face him, gazing up into his hazel eyes. “Matching you isn’t so bad.”

           “Oh yeah?” You watched as a slow smirk spread across his face and he looked down at his feet between you. “Thank you, by the way. I really love it.”

           “Just think you, um, deserve nice things.” A little color rose in his cheeks, and there was something so unbelievably sweet about it, being shy with you of all people. You had to press up to your tiptoes and pull Sam’s neck down to kiss him, but it was perfect, the light northern chill that sometimes drifted through the air even in July reminding you of your first kiss on that sledding hill except now it was your hand on Sam’s neck, blood seeping warm and loose through every capillary rather than the cold throb of anxiety you’d had then. With his lips on yours, delicate metal on your finger, and the earthy smell of the fresh produce in the air, you tried to commit to memory how unequivocally good the moment was, how completely outside the realm of possibility this would’ve seemed a year ago. Sam’s hand slipped to your lower back and pressed you to him. “Wanna get out of here?” he murmured into your ear, and it was all you could do not to jump him right there as you wound your fingers in his and wove through the booths to get back to the Impala.

           “Baby—you’ve gotta—fuck, I’m driving,” Sam laugh-moaned, shifting his hips just a little up into the hand you danced along the fly of his jeans.

           You leaned across the bench seat and licked the faintest trail up his jugular vein. “Then pull over.”

           His eyes closed deeply for a beat and hard swallow as he took a deep breath and took a right turn into what was likely a private driveway. It was a calculated move; probably not visible from the rural highway but if the people living here—the place sure to be occupied on a July weekend even if it wasn’t year-round—decided to leave they’d catch an eyeful of graphic roadblock. Knowing he was willing to take the risk made your heart race even faster, and Sam had barely thrown the car into park before he was on top of you, hand in your hair and tugging back roughly to bite-suck at your neck so hard and delicious you gasped before even realizing.

           He grinned into your skin as he kissed you. “Gonna—tease me—like—that? After looking so good—being so sweet—all morning?” You slid your hands in his hair and pulled back, crashing into his mouth and tasting the honey he’d sampled with you at the farmer’s market. You hooked your leg around his hips and rolled up into him, almost salivating at the firm length of him against you and the friction of the denim. He pressed you flat to the bench seat and started working the buttons of your shirt, so lightning-fast he ripped one of the last ones clean off, sending it skittering across the dashboard as it flew. “Sorry,” he smiled as you bit his lip, not looking very sorry at all.

           When your top was finally open Sam tugged at your bra, bypassing the clasp altogether in favor of exposing your nipples above it, somehow grazing his teeth and breathing cool air over them at once to send goosebumps flushing all over your body. You tried to undo the buttons of his shirt somewhat unsuccessfully for a moment before Sam leaned back and yanked at the back of his collar, tossing it in the backseat without looking as you flicked open his belt buckle and jeans. You grabbed either side of the open belt and tugged, making Sam’s chest press against yours and giggling into his lips at his tiny “oof,” when he fell forward onto the seat, throwing his arm out to avoid landing on you with his full weight.  

           With his torso against yours, he kissed you like he was gorging himself on candy; hungry and playful as you pushed and pulled against each other until you guided his cock out of his boxers and circled the tip with your thumb. Sam whimpered softly, just once and softly enough you might’ve thought it was a sharp inhale, but the broken concentration was enough for you to catch him off guard and shove him back on the seat across from you. He stretched back against the leather and door, pleasantly surprised behind widened pupils as you quickly got out of your shirt/bra tangle and kicked off your boots. It could’ve been some kind of pseudo-pornographic ad, Sam with tousled hair and undone jeans up against the door of the Impala, taut skin and muscles of his abs on full display as his arms spanned an impossible amount of the windowsill and seatback. If you’d had the self-restraint, you might’ve taken an extra second to soak it in, but as it was you pounced on him the moment the fabric of your clothes left your hands, slipping your fingers under his waistband enough to expose his cock and immediately sliding it into your mouth, hands still working to get him further out of his jeans.

           Anyone else making the sound he did would never have had the same effect, but the gravelly moan your tongue forced out of him dissolved you into jello and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. Rhythmically working the spit-slick between your mouth and hands, you dragged your head up to look Sam in the eyes, heavy tip of him weighing down your bottom lip as you spoke. “Hold my hair?”

           Sam’s eyes went fuzzy and dark as his eyebrows raised into a dazed smile, gathering your hair in a huge palm and making that amazing noise again as you slid all the way down him, nose grazing the dark hair on Sam’s abdomen. After a few minutes his hips bucked a little under you, Sam beginning to writhe on the leather. “Fuck, that feels so goo—hold on, wait,” Sam stammered with sex-frayed vocal cords, using your hair to tug you to his mouth and suck your tongue. The sensation stunned you for a moment but you could’ve stayed there forever, held up in his palm and flayed open for Sam to take.

           He trailed down your jaw and pulled firm when you tried to turn into his kiss. “Out of your jeans. Now.” You could feel the smirk against you and immediately started shimmying them off, loving this new edge to Sam, able to fully appreciate the grit knowing how soft he would be if you showed even the slightest hesitation. When you’d gotten the denim about halfway down your thighs he put a strong hand on your hip and flipped you over in the seat, your cheek flush against the glass of the window where he draped over your back like a predator. “Don’t. Move.”

           The shudder was involuntary but it was covered by Sam practically ripping the jeans the rest of the way off your legs and subsequent hoisting your hips into the air as he shifted your knees up to the leather, your chest pressed against the door of the Impala as you looked back at him. You didn’t have any warning when Sam slipped his tongue inside you, shooting your arm out to grab for anything to stabilize yourself and ending up with a handful of seatbelt. Your calf curled up as he worked those sensitive nerves, swirling a thumb into your clit as he went. Sam locked the freed ankle with an iron grip. “I said don’t move.”

           You whimpered and whispered dirty nothings you wouldn’t have been able to remember with a gun to your head until he smacked your ass hard enough you knew there’d be a red facsimile of his hand on you, and then you completely fell apart, shuddering and melting into the door. Sam crawled up behind you, chest flush to your back, and bit your earlobe. “I. Said. Don’t. Move.” You could hear the playful challenge in it and that made you even more crazy for him, wiggling under his weight a little involuntarily. He didn’t make you wait too long, pushing into you until his thighs pressed to yours, holding you in place so you couldn’t squirm forward.

           “Holy shit, Sam,” you breathed. You could feel your muscles flex and relax experimentally around him.

           His tongue flicked around your ear as he pounded into you. “You’re so fucking hot, baby—can’t believe you’re my girl. Are you my girl?”

           The sounds you made were vaguely affirmative but to be honest, Sam’s rocking into you was pretty effectively scrubbing your mind clean of coherent thought.

           “Tell me. Say my name,” Sam murmured, voice low with sin against your spine.  

           “I’m your girl, Sam—your girl, I’m your girl Sam, I—holy shit—” you moaned as he picked up the pace and circled a sucked-wet finger around your clit and then you hit that sweet, sticky spasm, hand splaying out wide on the window. Sam covered it with his, interlacing long fingers into yours and something about the way the metal of the two new rings clinked against each other was so tender even as you were being rammed into the door. A couple moments later he drew back with a tense groan, dressing your lower back with hot spurts of himself while his breath started to return with ragged shudders.

           “Jesus,” he sighed as he eased off of you, suddenly gentle again. “Oh—uh, here, sorry.” Sam extended a veined arm over the front seat to snatch his shirt from where it had landed and gently wiped off your back. You let the cool glass settle your racing heartbeat for a beat before sliding back to the seat and the small pile of clothes Sam had retrieved for you. It made you smirk a little to watch Sam’s internal struggle over what to do with the dirty shirt, deciding to toss it on the floor before refastening his belt shirtless like he was in some Country Hotties calendar—Mr. July indeed.

           You opted not to tie your boots as you’d only be walking from the car to the door and looked over at Sam once your feet were inside the loose laces. He opened and closed his mouth but couldn’t come up with any words, smoothing his hair nervously back into place and chuckling against a bitten lip.

           “Yeah, I agree,” you giggled, leaning over to kiss his cheek before lacing your fingers together. “Do you want anything specific for dinner? We have a bunch of chickpeas, I thought maybe we could try making our own falafel.”

           He gazed back at you for a reverent second before turning the key in the Impala’s ignition. “I love you,” he smiled, throwing an arm over the back of your seat to reverse out of the woods.

           Tracing the angles of his face in the sunlight as he drove, you picked your joined hands up to kiss his knuckles. “I love you too.”

           After a few minutes of endorphin-filled silence, Sam turned to you. “So do you know what this surprise is Dean has planned for tomorrow night? I figured he’d have to tell you what it was going to be if you’re the one whose head it’ll be in.”

           “No clue. I thought at first maybe it was like, the Grand Canyon or something but ran into the same issue. Unless Cas’s taught him some new trick, he’s only ever been able to pull up places or things I already know—pick my brain for it, or whatever.”

           “Yeah, me too.”

           The air in the car held the content pensiveness for a few minutes of sunny road. There was no real heat behind it, just like there was no real heat in choosing between different rattan baskets of produce at the farmer’s market, and that same appreciation of the serenity itself washed over you. A surprise was just a surprise, not a potential threat, a date with Dean was just a date with Dean, no longer a finite, losable resource that had to be clawed at and fought for. You didn’t miss the heat. There was more than enough warmth in the sun streaming through the windows and Sam’s palm in yours.

           As it did frequently, Dean’s face in your driveway flashed in your mind, the memory somehow simultaneously old-picture washed out yet vibrant—could dreams even be memories? aren’t all memories dreams, in a way?—collar of his jacket flicked up against the cold as he said “you have to get good with this,” the flit of tongue you could see as he shaped ‘th’ enough to shape a painting class around, send a dozen art students into psychosis for inability to capture it. It had been so hard to figure out how the fuck he expected you to, how cruel it felt for him to ask it, and the only way you’d gotten your head around it was that same Dean Winchester Denial & Self Sacrifice Special and accepted it at face value. When he’d died you hadn’t felt like so many movies and books about tragic loss, where the strong but sensitive woman you’re supposed to relate to spent a few months in poetic sadness growing waifish and crying picturesque tears in solitude until she realized she could carry on.

           You couldn’t carry on.

           You couldn’t carry anything—were dragging yourself along in the most generous of descriptions, some half-dead, half-smashed zombie version of yourself clinging to any will to live like a barnacle out of devotion and need for Sam. Getting Dean back felt like life raft thrown into the water. You really had wanted to spend the rest of your life asleep and were more than content to ingest as much dream root as it would take to decompose into the cabin’s mattress next to Sam, let your landlord find your skeletonized bodies after a few months of unpaid rent. Fuck him, kind as he’d been to two strangers who’d needed help, and fuck hunters’ funerals for you and Sam if it meant you didn’t have to keep drowning.  Fuck Dean’s wishes especially, let him bend to someone else’s will for once.

           At first, maybe the first month after the dream root, only logistical reasons kept you from following through. What you wanted—needed, would’ve ruined the world for—was Sam and Dean together, and you couldn’t find a way to get Sam to agree no matter how obliquely or obviously you asked. He was unbelievably patient with you during this period of near-psychosis, and you suspected that a lot of the new habits he constructed, maybe including your beloved farmer’s market, were designed to keep you away from the greenhouse for as many hours a day as possible. You knew what he was doing, but the bright glare of panic in his eyes whenever you ‘joked’ about growing bigger patches of those little white flowers slowed down your singular focus enough to humor him, telling yourself it was just stalling until you could make your move.

           But damn if it hadn’t worked. Not that it stopped that tick-tick-tick in your brain counting down to Dean, but it made the days bearable. Just bearable, at first, the newness of your surroundings and the newness of Sam, all the things you hadn’t known about him after years of sitting inches away from each other in the Impala. And then it stopped being so much about fuck you Dean fuck getting good with you being gone and a little more about getting good with the way Sam’s hair dried if he went to bed right after showering, floppy, glossy loops and easy curls at the base of his neck; getting good with racing him down the rickety pier on the cabin’s shoreline, knowing he was letting you win and squealing all the way down anyway, jumping into the lake at dusk on Memorial Day with all your clothes on together as Sam cannonballed in behind you. Getting good with Sam’s arms around you as you both shuddered in the water, shrieking with laughter and a smile on his face of genuine, unbridled joy. Getting good with waiting for every other Sunday, because sometimes waiting was Sam bringing you a root beer float in your favorite mug while you read, and sometimes it was feeling him fall asleep against you while you scratched his back.

            Then getting good with the way it became less taboo to talk about him, being able to casually repeat old jokes of Dean’s without feeling like you were being stabbed in the chest or being terrified of sending Sam into a spiral. Getting good with memories of your old life together, your old friends, truly able to appreciate them. Because Dean was right, you had been ‘upset because you wanted something that didn’t exist.’ You could stay upset about it, stay so fucking mad about the unfairness of it all, that after all Dean had done—for you, for the world—that he was fucking gone, didn’t get to live in a cabin or have a couple daughters to braid Uncle Sammy’s hair—God, Dean saying that had haunted you maybe more than anything—and let it necrotize you from the inside out. Or you could let the ways he had permeated your very being serve as more commemoration than most people ever dream of, appreciate that the Impala still felt like an extension of him, see glimmers of the way he and Sam were still connected every day.

           And, of course, visit him at night to take the edge off, love him and kiss him and scream until you laughed. Annoying as it was to admit it, all that getting good slowly let you see what he’d been trying to open your eyes to in that driveway. You had so much more than anyone in the world. How stupid, how greedy, to have all of that and cut yourself off from anything else because it wasn’t exactly the way you wanted it to be. Looking back at it felt like watching a home video of yourself as a kid throwing a tantrum, but for ages, and you almost couldn’t believe Sam had stuck right by your side through it all, guided you gently and patiently even through his own battle. Sweet, beautiful, loyal Sam.

           As if on cue, he looked over at you. The sun poured through the windshield and shone off his hair like a halo, sparkled like glitter in his eyes. Someone who’d had a normal life would’ve said he looked angelic. But you had so much more than that, got to see both that golden hour was giving you a bit of a heavy-handed metaphor and that Sam was not only more than angelic, he was the whole world. He was the life raft all along, Dean’s Herculean return to you the lighthouse that let you see what had been there from the start, what had never left. His fingers tightened around yours a fraction. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

           The smile splitting your face felt like the first delicious stretch after sleeping in on a rainy morning. “Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without you.”

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 20

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[uwuwriting]

How would the Todorokis be with their s/o?? Like Natsuo, Fuyumi, Shouto and Touya/Dabi??

I really believe that there should be a spin off called ‘Keeping up with the Todorokis’ where each one of them brings home their s/o and shit hits the fan. I love this prompt and I love ya. 💖💖💖

P.S It’s 4 am and I can’t sleep so please excuse any typos or grammatical mistakes. I’m in a daze. Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natsuo Todoroki 

-He met you at a convention.

-He was in his second year of university and he decided to attend one of those medical conventions, to feel more like a doctor.

-You bumped into him as you were entering the conference room and being as smooth as always, he asked you to sit with him.

-After that your friendship blossomed.

-You found out that you were actually in the same university but in different classes and that’s why you didn’t know each other.

-Being in the same campus helped a lot with the development of the relationship.

-It didn’t take long for him to fall head over heels in love with you. 

-He realized just how in love he was with you after a particular brutal confrontation with his father.

-He had been so angry and desperate for comfort that his body responded by itself and led him to your door.

-You of course helped him as best you could, making him some tea and quickly fixing him up with something to eat.

-You could see his anger as it radiated off of him.

-Also the temperature dropped so...yeah.

-You didn’t push him to talk, opting to stay silent and allow him to talk when he felt like it. 

-And it worked.

-He opened up to you, letting everything go.

-About his past, about Touya, about his father and eventually how much he wants to just hold but is afraid that he’ll just be like him inn the end. 

-He is terrified at the possibility of him hurting you like his father did his mother and making you miserable. 

-He told you that he truly loved you.

-You were in tears at that point.

-His past accompanied by his confession was just too much for you to handle.

-You jumped into his arms, wrapping him into one of the tightest hugs he had ever experienced and you just sobbed. 

-You said you loved him too and that he was one of the loveliest and sweetest people you had ever met, he could never be like his father.

-Of course at some point he started crying as well and you two became two sobbing messes on the floor of your apartment. 

-Your relationship was like a fever dream. 

-Natsuo is a fun guy but he’s also one of the most crackheaded people on this earth. 

-One minute you’re being smothered with kisses and the next you are being manhandled to the floor in an attempt to get the TV remote. 

-It’s...it’s a fever dream. 

-He likes showing his goofy self to you and making you question his intelligence. 

-I mean how could one person be an astounding medical student while challenging you that he could fit more marshmallows in his mouth than you?!

-He values his family even if it links with his father’s abuse. 

-So expect to meet Rei and Shouto after your one year anniversary or so.

-Fuyumi is the first family member you meet and that’s completely an accident.

-You were over at Natsuo’s and she came to drop off some food because he can’t cook for shit and she saw you.

-All the Todoroki’s adore you. 

-And when I say all I mean all.

-Even fireball man.

-He doesn’t really like you at the beginning because YoUr qUIrK iSn’T gOoD enOUgH, but later he warms up to you and is actually excited for your visits.

-Shouto claims that you make incredible soba so he automatically worships you.

-Lowkey had a mini crush on you but it lasted for like a week and then he got infatuated with his s/o so you were long forgotten.

-Rei loves you because Natsuo loves you and because you are literally a ray of sunshine. 

-Dabi....he takes his time because being in contact with his family after so many years is weird and seeing them slowly building their own families is even weirder, so you get the point. 

-All in all, they can’t wait until they get to call you an official Todoroki. 

Fuyumi Todoroki

-MY GIRL IS A LESBIAN.

-Change my mind....see you can’t. 

-She’s the shy one of the Todoroki group and it shows. 

-You have to do the first move and every move for that matter. 

-You two met when you were dropping off your nephew off at his school because you are a responsible AUNT!!

-You almost left without him tbh.

-You were being led to the class by him because you had lost every sense of direction.

-Once inside the class you were greeted with 17 pair of eyes on you which later changed to squeals of excitement. 

-Kids are weird okay... they get excited from the tiniest of changes and seeing a new face in the class had them ECSTATIC. 

-They asked you question after question and you were slowly suffocating by a particular kid having wrapped his arms around your middle and squeezing, until a soft voice was heard from behind you. 

- “Kids go to your seats please, and Daichi please let go of the lady.”

- “But she’s so pretty.”

-It took some time to get him off of you, mainly because you weren’t helping.

-You were to busy being in a daze as you looked at Fuyumi.

-She apologized about their behavior and asked if you were okay. 

-You, trying to be smooth, said you were fine and asked for her name. 

-She answered with a smile and you started talking until a cry was heard from inside the class and she had to leave. 

- “I hope to see you around, Todoroki-chan.” you said with a wink and left.

-She was blushing like crazy and barely mustered a ‘goodbye’ before hurrying into the classroom.

-After that you would regularly drop your nephew off only for a chance to see her again. 

-Finally, after many attempts, you mustered up the courage to ask her out and were taken aback by her excited squeal of approval. 

-Your relationship could be described as the definition of softness. 

-Fuyumi is a soft person and prefers tranquility over anything else, so that translates to a relationship argument free and just a ton of fluffy dates and cuddle sessions. 

-You’re relatively protective over her, especially after she shares her past with you, and become a literal watchdog every time Endeavor is in the proximity. 

-You click with Natsuo mainly because you have your crack moments and he can’t help but vibe with you.

-She’s super understanding and knows when work has been especially hard on you.

-She will make some tea and give you a massage, followed by a mini make out session and maybe some steamy times. 

-She introduces you to her mother only after you two have exchanged ‘I love you’s because that’s when she knows that you are serious with her.

-Rei A D O R E S you.

-She lights up when she sees you with Fuyumi. 

-Shouto is a little more closed off so you’ll have to try and get him to really like you. 

-With some help from Natsuo’s s/o you’ll be on his good side in no time. 

-Endeavor was from the first people to meet you mainly because you were visiting Fuyumi at their house frequently and he didn’t like you. 

-You two could become feral if Fuyumi didn’t intervene. 

-Eventually he warmed up to you.....because Fuyumi was marrying you so he didn’t really have a choice. 

-After he realized the importance of family he started having the mindset that if his children were happy he was happy.

-And you made Fuyumi happy.

-Still salty over your nonexistent/normal quirk though.

Shouto Todoroki

-You were in the same class.

-And he found you beautiful since day one.

-So it was kinda inevitable.

-Like come on, you were perfect to him.

-You were beautiful, smart, caring and super strong.

-He fell head over heels after he fought you at the sports festival. 

-He spoke to Midoriya about this weird feeling he was feeling in his chest and he diagnosed him with love.

-Okay, Shouto has no idea what to do.

-His perception of love was obliterated by his dad and his mom wasn’t in his reach for advice. 

-Fuyumi was an option but he didn’t really feel comfortable. 

-So what did he do?

-He googled it.

-He googled how to flirt and how to make a girl like you.

-And you can imagine the results. 

-Kaminari level flirting.

-Thankfully you found his attempts cute and finally comforted him about the whole flirting thing, asking him if he liked you. 

-He said yes, you know, bluntly and asked you out.

-Your relationship was awkward at first because he had no idea what he was doing and you didn’t want to overstep and make him uncomfortable. 

-After some time, and many kisses and reassuring later, he relax and let himself go.

-TOUCH STARVED BABY BOY!

-He’s clingy af and if he traps you in his arms, he won’t let go.

-You’re his now.

-End of story.

-You help him cope with his trauma and encourage him to reach out to his mom and siblings.

-You become his shoulder to cry on/ rant about his father and you are there for him for everything. 

-During the Nomu incident with his father, he was really shaken and that’s when he said ‘I love you’ for the first time. 

-You were in his dorm room, him having his head in his hands as his breaths became labored.

-You didn’t say anything, instead opted to massage his back and just envelope him in a loose hug.

-Everything he felt for his father, the hatred and the anger, had momentarily disappeared and had been replaced by dread for his safety. 

-He had destroyed his mother and their family, but he was still part of him. 

-Shouto stayed there, in your arms, and just contemplated about his feelings towards everyone, not just his father. 

-And that’s when he realizes that he loves you.

-And he just blurts it out. 

-You are taken aback to say the least, but you still return his sentiment. 

-He decides to introduce you to his family after that.

-First stop is Rei, who loves you.

-Seeing her Shouto looking at someone like that, with so much love in his eyes, is addicting and she couldn’t be happier. 

-Next stop, Fuyumi and Natsuo.

-You go out on a triple date and things are hectic. 

-Chaotic energy overload.

-But everything works out and the all of them end falling in love with you.

-Endeavor, tolerates you because of your quirk.

-Not that you care.

-Shouto keeps you away from him anyways. 

-A wholesome boyfriend.

-Husband material right here.

Dabi/Touya Todoroki

-Burn me you flaming ball of daddy issues.

-Friends with benefits. 

-That’s how it all started. 

-Just some fun nights, shared between two partners in crime before returning to murdering people.

-The thing is that, in order to make Dabi fall in love you have to do something crazy af.

-You two were on a mission to spy on Overhauls rookies, when someone spotted you.

-He was about to shoot one of those quirk erasing darts right on Dabi’s back when you pushed him out of the way, getting your quirk erased and hitting your head because of your unceremonious landing. 

-You have never seen one (1) Dabi roast 20+ people faster before. 

-Your whole body felt stiff and heavy, making even the slightest of movements a challenge. 

-Dabi was on his knees in no time, calling your name like a mad man and trying to keep you conscious. 

-He scooped you up in his arms, cold sweat running down his spine as he watched you fall in and out of consciousness.

-Even after you closed your eyes, you could here him faintly calling out to you, spewing nonsense just to stir a reaction.  

-Once at the hide out, he almost roundhoused Shigaraki’s ass because he got in his way, he rushed over to the new healer of their group. 

-After being told that you were going to make it, he disappeared for a week. 

-You woke up and he wasn’t there, which kinda hurt.

-Okay, you may or may not have feelings for him for some time now, but of course you won’t say anything..

-You will scare him off.

-Little did you know though that Dabi was getting himself wasted in an attempt to drown his feelings for you. 

-His plan failed and he decoded to confront you about it.

-Get it out of the way. 

-He came back and dragged you out of the hideout and aggressively confessed to you. 

-You two are now exclusive.

-Congrats!

-Things are really chill.

-He worries when you go on missions by yourself, especially after seeing you like hurt after that Overhaul mission.

-Cuddles with him are based on his mood.

-If he doesn’t really want to cuddle, he won’t .

-You can’t change that no matter what.

-You are the only one who knows about his backstory and his family.

-After being together for a long time you encourage him to reach out to his siblings or his mom.

-His dad is a no no from both of you.

-And eventually he actually does.

-He introduces you to them and they have to warm up to the both of you.

-Because having your until recently deceased brother introduce his s/o to you is kinda....overwhelming. 

-In the end, they are happy to have their brother back.

-And seeing so happy and trusting with another person, had them warm.

-Dabi deserves love.

-Poor baby suffers and he doesn’t deserve it.

[bangtan-madi]

Year of the Rabbit — Seven: Priori

Pairing — Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok x Yoongi, Taehyung x Jimin

Tags — best friend!Jungkook, non-idol au, flower shop au, gym au, florist!MC, gym owner!Jungkook, brother!Namjoon, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 4.3k

Summary — Blame it on the storm or the secret feelings or the snow-in, but one thing is for sure: a lot can happen to two best friends when they're confined to their stores overnight. 

Warnings — language

Part — 7 / 7 (Outro still to come!)

Previous — Next

It takes the length of the call ringing for you to totally digest what just happened. Eventually, Jungkook's name fades from the black mirror, and the soft lullaby of "Yellow" fades away. You're left gripping the phone between pale fingers, desperately waiting for him to say something else.

When he speaks again, his tone is soft, barely audible, the most tender-sounding thing you've ever heard. "You're the one I love."

Lowering his phone, his hand reaches for yours. You allow him to use gentle pressure to pry your fingers away, and he tosses them both to the side. 

Despite the blood pulsing in your ears, your breath is steady. Disregarding the way your hands tremble when he links his pinky with yours — something you two often do to silently show the other you're there — your mind is blissfully peaceful. Every worry, all your anxieties, the pile of bittersweet emotions you'd kept inside all this time, it's faded like mist.

Jungkook loves you. 

You. 

Not some other girl, not the one he broke up with over Christmas, not one of the many that come into his gym just to flirt. Of all the lovely women in Seoul that he could've fallen for, he didn't mention their names. He didn't call their number. He didn't spend his New Year with any of them.

He said your name. He called your number. He spent the holiday with you, alone and snowed in, cold and dark at the supermarket.

And suddenly, your eyes are damp and ever-so-slightly burning. Not in any way that allows sadness, but in every way that brings you joy. Your pinky curls around his, but you can't bring yourself to speak or meet his gaze. The boy you adore, standing silently beside you, gives you the time you need. More than anything, you want to throw your arms around him and confess your concurrent feelings. You want to hold him closer than you ever have before. But if you move now, you feel the thin glass pane of the confession will shatter and reality will be the solid stone wall behind it.

Almost as if sensing your disbelief, Jungkook leans closer and tucks a stray strand of hair from your face and behind your ear. "You're my priori," he murmurs, a soft smile visible from your peripheral vision. "My one true thing."

Of all the things you thought having your unrequited love confirmed would feel like, you never thought it would be this. You thought it would feel like flying — or maybe falling — like stepping off the edge and having all the love around you carry you to a new world. You always dreamed it would be like riding a rollercoaster with hands held high, heart racing, screaming at the top of your lungs from euphoria. Surely love feels exciting and thrilling and new, like one adventure after another.

Never in any of your daydreams or sleepless nights did you think love would feel so much like a sentimental song playing in the room beside you. Not unfamiliar, something you know from the past — perhaps even a lifetime ago. But it feels right to your soul, and you can't help but walk towards it. And finding that one you love feels like finding your home, and finding out that they feel the same way is like being handed the keys with the words, "It's yours now."

Love feels settled and secure and safe. It's constant and sure and tender, and you're surprised to have already had those things in your friendship with Jungkook. Then there comes a sense of relief when you see that very little will change between you two — but now you don't have to live with secret feelings and unacted-upon adoration. He's your one constant thing, your one true thing; that much you already knew.

Yes, priori is the perfect word.

"Jungkook..."

"Yes?"

Blinking away the tears from your eyes, you thread your fingers with his and finally raise your head. As your eyes meet, you offer a smile. Instantly, Jungkook's worry fades. Your grasp tightens, and you lift your other hand to tug on the edge of his shirt, prompting him to come closer.

"I think...I love you, too."

Jungkook's dimples pop out as he grins, and something like a squeak slips out beyond his control. His giddiness is infatuating, causing you to giggle alongside him. Suddenly, he's the one pulling you into him. The hand-holding turns into warm-embracing. His arms find their way around your waist and back, his hands gripping you closer. You make a sound of surprise when his cold nose buries into the crook of your neck. 

You're just as quick to return the affection. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, and your face nuzzles into his wavy hair. As one fist grips the soft material of his top, the other weaves through the silky locks. Having him this close is nothing you haven't done before; somehow this time feels different.

Just as you start to settle into his embrace, Jungkook's shaking his head against your neck, laughing softly to himself. "What's so funny?" you ask.

"I was so fucking scared you were going to freak out and run away," he chuckles against your skin. "Horrified I was going to lose you."

"Is that why you didn't say anything?" He nods. "How long?"

"Um...years?"

"Jeon Jungkook—!"

"—But especially ever since you left to study in the U.S.," he interrupts, explaining further. "For the first time since I met you, I thought I was going to lose you. Then I realized my feelings were way more than friendly, and that I'd do just about anything to get you back."

You heave a sigh and run your fingers along the exposed skin at the top of his back. "Then why didn't you tell me when I came back? It's been six damn months..."

"Because the fear of losing you was still there," he admits. 

"And now?"

Jungkook shakes his head, then presses a kiss against your shoulder. "Not anymore."

"Well, if you're as brave now as you say you are, when are you going to kiss me?"

The brunet pulls away, swift and with wide eyes. He observes your expression for any sense of a trick or joke but finds nothing other than your teasing smile. Your eyes flicker down to his mouth, which only encourages him more. 

When you graze your fingers across his shoulders and pull your lower lip between your teeth, he snaps. Closing the distance in seconds, his eager mouth presses to yours. He's soft and gentle, but also excited and insistent. You move with him, your hands cradling his face. One hand remains at your waist as the other migrates to your hair. Neither of you can hide the smiles that slip in between kisses.

"You're actually a really good kisser," he giggles.

"Was there ever any doubt?"

Jungkook pecks your mouth again before responding, "Nope, but I had imagined it so many times I was starting to wonder if anything could live up to the moment in my head."

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, and it doesn't go unnoticed that the tips of his ears turn scarlet. "You imagined us together?"

He nods, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "More than I should've."

Heart full enough to burst at his adorable nature, you tug him back to you, tugging softly on his lower lip as you kiss. Jungkook takes advantage of the chance to slip his hands under your shirt, earning a yelp from you. 

"Wai—Wait," you state, unable to hide the intrusive thought that occurs. "Is this why you broke things off with your ex?"

He groans and pulls away from you, putting mere millimeters between you. "Are you seriously bringing her up right now?"

"Maybe..."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, obviously annoyed with your timing but indulging your curiosity with a smirk just the same. "Yeah. I think she knew I loved you, and we broke it off because of it. But that was a mutual choice."

"And my partners?"

"Oh, they've known since high school."

"What the hell," you scoff with mock horror, bringing his face back towards yours. "You're unbelievable, Gym Bunny."

His grin is wide, showing the very reason for the nickname. "I would say I try, but I don't."

"Shut up and kiss me, idiot."

"You're the one asking ques—!"His complaint is stopped short by your mouth on his, and you press the boundary a little more as you nip at his bottom lip, requesting entrance. Jungkook's lips part, and he steps forward with hands on your hips. Following his lead, you shuffle half a step backward before feeling the sofa put an abrupt stop to your path. Careening off-balance, the pair of you topple over, you barely landing on the cushions before Jungkook awkwardly stumbles and follows suit.

The unexpected puff of air from your lungs has him pushing off of you as much as possible, as soon as possible. Eyes wide, his expression is one of pure shock. Going from an intimate moment to an awkward one is right on par with your relationship. Between that thought and the look on his face, you burst into laughter, throwing your head back as giggles wreck your body.

"Why are we like this?" Eventually, you're able to spout the words. 

By this time, Jungkook's concern has faded, and he's chuckling with you. "It's been this many years of a habit," he shrugs. The brunet pulls his upper body up as to perch on his elbows, which are on either side of your torso. As he gazes up at you, he rests his chin on your chest, looking more adorable by the second, though he's not even trying. "Why change anything now?"

As your laughter settles down, you move a hand playfully through his unruly hair, admiring the fact that it's longer than he usually lets it go. He leans into your touch, clearly enjoying the way your nails graze his scalp.

"Kiss me again?"

Jungkook doesn't wait for you to ask twice; in a heartbeat, he's propped himself up on his forearms, leaning over you, and pressing kisses all over your face. Your eyelids, your forehead, your nose—not one section is left untouched. Well, none except for the place you want to be kissed.

"Your aim is shitty."

He pulls back with raised eyebrows, voice sarcastic. "Oh, I'm sorry, are those not good enough for you?"

You shake your head with a smirk. "Nope."

"Mmm, fine. I'll relent." 

He closes the distance and molds his mouth to yours. Not even a second later, the whole world lights up. Not in the typically cheesy romantic way, but in the very literal way. The lights in the supermarket come to life, and the machinery keeping everything cold whirs softly as background noise. The streetlights outside shine through the frostbitten windows, and the heat begins to pump warmer air into the space. To your elation, the generator in the back room shuts off, having done its duty to keep everything running as much as possible during the blackout. Even the lights of the storefronts outside the supermarket light up once more.

"Power's back," you murmur, realizing that the night snowed in is coming to an end, and reality will slowly follow suit. Turning back to face Jungkook, you see his face equally as downcast as yours. "I guess that's a good thing, right? At least we can go home and get some actual sleep."

He chuckles, then rests his cheek against your chest. "I slept just fine, thanks."

You bury your nose into his hair and sigh, recalling what you were doing the night prior before the power shut off. "Or I can get to work. I still need to get everything done for that wedding. I just hope the order went through before the outage..." 

Jungkook sighs, lifts his head, and mutters, "Can you do me a favor?" At your nod, he continues. "Leave the shop for a few hours. Spend some time with me in a place that's actually warm. Let me get you that shitty takeout I promised you and just...be with me for a while. No work. No worries. Just us." He brushes his fingers against your ribcage, barely under your shirt. "Can you do that?"

Seeing the puppy-dog twinkle in his eyes, you roll your eyes with playful abandon. Your best friend grins, knowing he's won. "Fiiine. But Natsukashii is anything but shitty."

At your promise, Jungkook is eager to return to the flower shop for the bike he arrived on. Step by careful step, you make your way into the storage room, up the ladder, and across the attic overhead. Once down the hatch and into the shop, you're taken back by the shiver down your spine. You can only hope that the handful of hours without power didn't take too harsh a tole on the floral displays in the windows or horticulture pods in the back room.

Jungkook tosses you his sweatshirt, remaining only in a long-sleeved T-shirt. You open your mouth to protest, but he shoots you a glare that says, "Just put the damn shirt on already."

If you thought the interior was chilly, the walkway out front is bitter cold. Jungkook mounts the bike with ease, and he nods for you to hop on the back. After scooting onto a seat probably, no definitely, not made for two, he takes off in the direction opposite your apartment.

"Where are we going?"

"My place, it's a lot closer than yours," he says, glancing over his shoulder for a moment. "If that's all right. I already fed your cat, so she's fine."

You flash a small smile, nodding your approval. "That's perfect."

The ride is thankfully short, and less than five minutes later, Jungkook is pulling up to the front of his apartment. It's inconspicuous, near the edge of the neighborhood, and a perfect length away from his gym. As he parks it at the biking rack outside, locking it in place, you shove your hands into the pockets of the oversized sweatshirt, marveling at how it smells so much like him.

"Isn't Jimin home?" you inquire.

Jungkook scoffs and shakes the snow from his hair. "Not a chance. He spent the New Year with Taehyung. I'd bet money that they're nursing a hangover at the latter's place right now."

"True, and I'll double that bet and say they're not even up yet."

As he joins your side, Jungkook slips his hand around yours and tugs you towards the entrance. "C'mon. It's fucking cold outside and someone stole my sweatshirt."

"You're not playing fair, Gym Bunny."

"That so, Flower Child?"

Once you both push through his front door, gleefully sighing at the warmth the room provides, you're rubbing your numb fingers together. "Can we promise to never do that again?"

"Which? The freezing bike ride or the freezing sleepover?"

"Both!"

Jungkook pokes your cheek as he passes you, a loving smile on his face. "Go change. The snow is melting and you're just about soaked. I'll order the takeout."

Nodding your head, you turn for his bedroom, knowing the way by memory. This is far from the first time you've been over at Jungkook's place, but it's never been like this. It's always been under the guise of being best friends. You never thought you would be sifting through his clothing as someone who's kissed him, held him, or spoken the words "I love you" as a lover would. 

A small smile crosses your face when you think back to high school and college. Those times were especially close to your heart. Knowing what you know now — that Jungkook has been hiding these feelings for basically that entire time — it makes certain moments especially hilarious. All those awkward situations, those teasing comments by Hoseok and Yoongi, those embarrassed expressions from your best friend: suddenly it all makes sense.

You pull a different, but somehow still similar, black sweatshirt from Jungkook's closet, chuckling softly under your breath at his lack of variety in loungewear. To pair with it, you find a loose pair of sweatpants and fuzzy socks. Despite tying the drawstrings to a certain length, rolling up the sleeves and pant legs, you still feel drowned by the overly baggy clothing; even on him, this is a few sizes too large.

Just how he likes it.

When you make yourself as presentable as possible, you return to the living room on quiet feet. Jungkook's voice is soft, barely audible from the hallway, but you remain silent as you recognize the voice on the other line.

"You told her?" Yoongi says in shock. "Actually told her? For fucking real?"

"You're joking!" Hoseok exclaims, his voice a little farther from the phone.

Jungkook laughs. Seated on the sofa with his back turned to you, he nods his head once. "Yeah, actually did it, Hyung."

"About damn time! How long have you been friends? Ten years? More? I can't remember, to be honest— Point is, it's been a long time coming."

"How did it go?"

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, before responding, "She...She likes me, too. You were right."

"See—!"

"—and we might've kissed..."

It's nearly impossible to resist the urge to giggle as Yoongi and Hoseok lose their minds over the phone. Half cheering, half screaming, Jungkook's shoulders shake with laughter as he holds the device away from his ear. 

"We told you, you idiot!" Hoseok exclaims, his accent coming through. "She's liked you for a long-ass time, you both were just too dumb to see it."

"Yeah, yeah, aish. I get it, okay?" Jungkook's words are snide, but his tone is playful. "I owe you a case of soju."

"Oh, you owe us way more than that for leaving you two alone over New Year's." Yoongi scoffs. "I mean, not that we don't love vacationing in Hawaii, but I was starting to worry you would chicken out."

"I did," Jungkook laughs. "And then [Y/n] kept pressing and asking who I was interested in and eventually..."

"Yeah, she's good at being nosey."

"But honestly? I'm glad she did. I would've stayed quiet, just like all the other close calls before." Your best friend sighs, but the sound isn't sad like you'd imagine. It's more like a breath of relief, as if this is a weight he's been shouldering for a while. "And now I feel like things are changing."

Yoongi hums, instantly picking up on the younger's tone shift. "Does it scare you?"

"A bit?" he replies honestly. "I'm not sure..." After trailing off, he straightens up and rubs the back of his neck. "Hey, I gotta go, Hyungs. She's gonna be back any second. Thanks for everything, even if Hobi-hyung was threatening to spill to [Y/n] over the holidays."

"You had it coming, Jungkookie!" Hoseok snickers from somewhere in the background of the other side. "But I swear to god, if you break her heart—"

"—Bye!" Jungkook hangs up with a giggle, clearly amused by Hoseok's ever-present extra-nature. He tosses the phone onto the sofa beside him and leans back onto the cushions.

You slip into the room, clearing your throat to announce your entrance, before wrapping your arms around Jungkook's shoulders. Resting your chin on the crook between his shoulder and neck, you murmur, "You okay?"

Jungkook nods, leaning his head to the side so that it rests against yours. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Just the very end," you assure. After a beat of silence, you give his shoulders a squeeze. "Nothing's going to change. I promise."

"Yeah, maybe I was wrong about that." He pulls away from your grasp and turns around, arms braced against the back of the sofa so he can meet your gaze. "What if I want things to change? For the better."

You'd be lying if you said you weren't taken aback by his suggestion. All this time, the fears inside you both had been that a step forward in your relationship would mean leaving something behind. Or losing something you love. It's one of the hardest things in the world, to face the romantic feelings you have for someone you've called your best friend ever since you were in school. You know Jungkook feels this way, or at least you thought he did.

"There's no way we'll ever stop being best friends," he continues after you say nothing. He tugs on the edges of your, or rather his, sweatshirt, playing absent-mindedly with the loose string on the hem. "We both know that. But maybe now...maybe we owe it to ourselves and these things we feel for the other to see where this leads? Maybe we should give us a try."

Eventually, you find your voice again. "What are you saying?" 

Jungkook closes his eyes and runs his other hand through his wavy hair. The crease between his brows deepens as he struggles to find the correct words. "I was so worried about change because I never considered that it could be good. But maybe it can be. There's nothing that says we have to stop being each other's closest friends if we wanted to give us a try."

"Us...as in dating? Like fancy dinners, movie theaters, non-best friend sleepovers kinda dating."

Heat rises to his cheeks, and suddenly he's stumbling worse than he was before. "I mean—yeah, that's what I was... But only if you wanted to. I was going to ask but—"

The clear embarrassment on his face, paired with the disjointed sentences he never finishes, has you laughing and pulling him to you. Your arms circle around his neck, and you press your lips into his hair. It's been a long time since you've seen him this flustered, and to know it's because of you, how could you not be amused?

"I mean, neither of us are fancy dinner, movie theater kind of people, but I can guarantee I'll take you up if you ask me out to, say, beat your ass at an arcade or out-eat and out-drink you at an all you can eat barbeque and soju night, I would definitely take you up on that. No questions asked. You're my boyfriend now and I will annihilate you without mercy."

Jungkook bursts into laughter at your response, arms wrapping around your middle as his shoulders shake. "In that case, why not do both!"

Pulling back so you can grin down at him, you snicker, "Oh, you're on, Gym Bunny."

Jungkook grins, cups your face in his hands, and pulls you back to him. His lips mold to yours in a sweet and tender kiss. Both of you are smiling into it, and he's nearly about to lift you up and over the back of the sofa and onto the cushion with him before the door buzzer interrupts you both. He pulls away, groaning to himself.

"That's probably the takeout," he says. He presses a second, swifter peck to your mouth before letting you go in favor of the door. "Tonight, we eat takeout and play Call of Duty. Tomorrow, I help you with your order so you're not so stressed?" 

You hop onto the sofa, shaking your head as you retort, "Oh, no, you don't have to do that—!"

"—I want to, no buts," he interrupts with a grin, signature bunny teeth pulling at all your heartstrings. 

How can you say no to that face? 

He backs up towards the door, holding up a finger as if telling you to wait. "One second. I'll be right back with food."

You give two thumbs-ups, returning his cute enthusiasm. "I'll be here."

After he leaves, you shake your head to yourself, wondering how in the world things could shift so much in less than a day. Twenty-four hours ago, you were cooped up at the flower shop, trying to handle a plethora of last-minute tasks, knowing that you wouldn't be home for much of the New Year at all. Your partners on a well-deserved holiday, your parents back home in Ilsan, your brother god only knows where in some random city, you were alone. The flowers were your only companions, and somehow you had come to terms with being okay with it. 

You never could have dreamed up a snowstorm, a power outage, and a supermarket adventure with Jeon Jungkook. While it had started out as an inconvenience, now you look back on last night as a welcome turning point. The events that had transpired had been building up for almost a decade. Despite you making a mental reminder to harass Yoongi and Hoseok for keeping things from you when they returned, you find yourself satisfied with how things have unraveled. You hadn't been alone for the holiday after all — far from it.

As Jungkook returns with the door — spouting in an adorable Busan-accented lisp about the overcharge for the extra sauces he knows you love — you can't help the smile that spreads across your face or the love that blossoms in your heart.

Maybe the Year of the Rabbit wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Taglist — @kooala

[sweetsubharry]

hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!!  💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14   

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

Neil Josten's Playlist Part 1: Andrew

Masterpost and link to the playlist in its entirety

These songs are going to be the biggest chunk of the playlist. Are we surprised?

Okay here we go:

1. Take Me To Church - Hozier

I was not joking about Neil being a Hozier fan. You cannot tell me this boy doesn’t hear this song on the radio and immediately think of Andrew. Every time it came on he’d make sure the radio stayed on the station so he could listen all the way through. It got overplayed but he’s probably the only person in the world who never got sick of it at the time. He got used to listening to the same songs over and over again with his mom, so he's even comforted by repeating songs now.

5. Stay - Rihanna & Mikky Ekko

So one night, after several nightmares within the span of a few hours, Neil wasn’t too proud to admit that he absolutely wasn’t going to get any decent sleep that night. Andrew took him on a long drive without even having to be asked. The silence was shoving Neil even further into his thoughts, so Andrew turned on the radio. He settled on a station that was playing softer music that Neil probably wouldn’t hate, and he just kept driving. Once this song came on, Neil became enamored with it. It’s another one of those songs that makes him think of Andrew, but it’s more because he listens to the lyrics and realizes Andrew has said half of these things to him. It’s now a song that, even years later when he and Andrew are living in separate states and desperately trying to land contracts with the same team, Neil listens to on bad nights.

6. River - Bishop Briggs

Listen... this is just another really solid Andreil song.......... and I’m absolutely positive this is a song that Neil would like. Let me have this.

For Neil everything with Andrew is simultaneously loud and quiet and intense and gentle and hard and soft. He’s never known someone to make him feel so much yet calm him down from panic to nothing so smoothly. Even their intimacy holds so much complexity and weight to it. This is a song I feel like Andrew introduced him to, because it absolutely makes him think of Neil too (not that he'd say that out loud).

8. Dreams - The Cranberries

Renee likes the Cranberries and she got Andrew into them too. Andrew pretends this song doesn’t make him think about Neil but no one is actually fooled by that when they catch him listening to it. Least of all Neil because he feels the same thing listening to the lyrics. Not much explanation past that. Neil vibes with this song right from the opening lyrics (”Oh, my life is changing every day in every possible way”), to the comparison of a lover to a dream (he still remembers when Andrew called him a pipedream, even if he didn’t understand at the time), to the vocal breaks in the middle and at the end where it just sounds like someone singing their soul right out of their body.

Neil is a private person and not someone to ever scream his love from rooftops. But that doesn’t mean the concept doesn’t hit him deep. He’s been through a lot and he’s come out the other end with a love of his own that’s deeper and more than anything he ever imagined. His lack of expressing passion about most things (Andrew) doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel incredibly passionate about certain things in a way that cuts deep. He found love and it’s incredible

12. Easily - Bruno Major

I've mentioned this previously, but I hc that Andrew and Neil almost broke up in Neil’s last year at Palmetto. Not going to get into it, but this song had a big part in pulling Neil through that whole year, ESPECIALLY the situation with Andrew. Maybe I’ll make a separate, more detailed post about that sometime. But basically I hc that neither of them were in good spots emotionally. And Andrew was very close to giving up on everything - including Neil.

They managed to pull through and stop one another from giving up on it all, even when things got really hard.

15. Sunlight - Hozier

No I’m not done with the Hozier songs. Did I say I was done with the Hozier songs? Not gonna happen.

Anyway so the story of this song is he was talking with Allison and Nicky once about music and their SOs (well he was listening more than talking but he wasn’t ignoring them), and Nicky outright asked him if there was a song that made him think of Andrew. He’d heard this one for the first time recently and it was just the most recent of many songs that make him think of Andrew, so he threw it out there to humor them. They hadn’t heard it but were very doubtful that any song titled “Sunlight” could have anything to do with Andrew at all, so he showed it to them. They didn’t really change their minds and instead Allison went on another tirade about how Neil is gone for Andrew in a way that Andrew couldn’t possibly be for him and how she was worried for him. Nicky stood up for his cousin a bit, but ultimately was still agreeing with Allison to a degree that Neil may be expecting more than what Andrew could give him blah, blah, blah.

Neil wasn’t happy. Instead he found himself latching onto this song even further and becoming even more assured that it was a song for Andrew. Just because the others refused to understand who Andrew really is and the ways he’s learning to grow and heal and the fact that he’s someone worth loving god dammit, doesn’t mean Andrew is the monster they make him out to be.

For a while afterwards, he’ll put this song on if he’s ever given the aux cord. Because he’s petty. If Andrew catches on to what he’s trying to do, he never says anything.

19. Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men

This is definitely a song that makes Neil think of Andrew, though he'd never tell him that. They have both played both parts in this song, and it makes Neil's heart ache to think of all the bad nights that they weren't there for one another - whether it was distance or stubbornness or just general shitty circumstance. They both can get so trapped in their own heads in different (and sometimes similar) ways, and they're relationship has really been built in a lot of ways on the depth of emotional support they've learned to give one another in rough times. That steadiness, that presence that stays by you and keeps you grounded even when you want to crawl out of your own skin and hide somewhere far away. That is what they give one another.

24. Day After Day - Badfinger

This is another one he used to listen to with his mother, but he didn't really latch onto it until his final year at Palmetto when he and Andrew were doing long-distance. He learned in that year just how sentimental he had become in some ways. He finds it in the bone-deep longing he gets on late nights when he just wishes he could lie in bed next to Andrew - because he knew that's when he sleeps best. He'd listen to this song and let himself wallow for a little while, and then eventually put it away and carry on because he didn't have the time to slow down and feel things too hard.

Things are much better now and he doesn't feel as bad when he listens to the song. It's just a pleasant sound he leans into sometimes.

26. Don't Dream It's Over - Crowded House

This is another one that he first heard from his mother, but kept for himself without allowing it to be stained with her memory. It is one of those ones he listened to a great deal during his last year when things with Andrew got hard. He committed himself to not letting him go or breaking off what they had unless Andrew ever directly asked him to. He couldn't find it in himself to ever do that.

This song reminds him of that commitment and helps him stay strong with it, for better or worse. Everyone was convinced from the beginning that either Neil was bad for Andrew (Aaron) or Andrew was bad for Neil (everyone else except Renee and Nicky basically). This reminds him that he knows Andrew better. He knows HIMSELF better. He knows they aren't perfect, but he refuses to let himself fall into their blocked mentality where they choose to be blind to the reality of Andrew's character (or his own for that matter). He knows they are good together. He knows they help one another, they don't hold each other back. And he refuses to give up on them unless Andrew asks him to.

28. How Deep Is Your Love - The Bird and The Bee

This is another final-year-at-Palmetto one. He stumbles across this song while listening to one of Robin's playlists while he was driving her to practice. Listen to the lyrics and hear just how Andreil this song is. It fits so well, and Neil has to pull over and collect himself for a moment when he first hears it. It had been an especially rough week and he'd been struggling trying to balance giving Andrew space and support with communicating his own needs. This gives him the push he needs. He calls him later that night to talk and their time apart starts getting a bit more bearable for it.

29. TALK ME DOWN - Troye Sivan

This was Andrew's song that made him think of Neil. In every way. He found it while they were doing long distance. Neil first heard it on a midnight drive they took while he was visiting Andrew. They didn't say anything, but they didn't need to. Neil eventually asked him why he listens to this one when his taste is usually much louder stuff. He was expecting a stoically-delivered joke denying any potential relation to Neil or a comment about how Nicky got it stuck in his head or something while they were video chatting one weekend. Instead, Andrew just responded "You know why."

Neil stored the song away to listen to later on when they were once again sleeping in separate beds in separate states, knowing Andrew was probably listening to it as well.

38. Talking Bird - Death Cab for Cutie

Neil doesn't know why this song makes him emotional (yes he does). He doesn't know what it is about it that feels like it cuts so deep (it's because Andrew sent it to him). He doesn't get why Andrew showed it to him (it's because Andrew asked him to stay, but would never force him to if he ever did decide to run). He just listens and feels comforted.

44. I'm so Tired - Lauv & Troye Sivan

This is another one Neil found when he and Andrew were doing long distance. It was a bit of a rocky time for them and there were several of those make-or-break moments. You know, the kind any relationship has where you either pull through it together and are stronger for it, or end things where they are and go your separate ways. I imagine - during a particularly rough patch - Neil heard this song from one of his underclassmen roommates. He was thinking about Andrew (when is he not) and part of him wondered if Andrew was better off finding guys in bars to take home and have no connection to. It was a spiteful moment of self-pity that he let himself indulge in before coming to his senses and giving Andrew a call to smooth things over a bit.

He still listens back to the song sometimes. It has a nice, soft, smooth feeling to it. Now when he listens to it, he finds himself focusing more on the singer asking their lover to take them home so they can move forward because they're too tired to fight. He remembers how, when he and Andrew have reached that point, they've continuously chosen to fall back to one another instead of pulling away. It's a very comforting thought for him.

45. NFWMB - Hozier

I don't even know if I have to explain this one.

There are a lot of things that Andrew and Neil see in one another, but I think one major thing is how strong they both are in their own ways. Neither of them are someone you want to fuck with. This song is perfect for that.

And, once again I will say, Neil is a Hozier fan and I'll die on this hill.

50. It Will Come Back - Hozier

Another Hozier song look at that

Anyway this is song encapsulates exactly how Andrew feels about Neil repeatedly choosing Andrew (at least, how he feels about it in the beginning of their relationship). And Neil isn't blind to this at all. What he also isn't blind to (but that he knows Andrew forgets sometimes) is how Neil is also the stray Andrew showed too much kindness. Andrew is as stuck with Neil as Neil is making himself stuck with Andrew.

51. Love Lies - Khalid & Normani

If asked why he likes this song, he'd say it's because Matt showed it to him and it reminds him of Matt and Dan's inspiring relationship. There are very few people he'd admit the truth to.

Something about the song feels too typical and approachable to admit applying to him and Andrew. They don't have a "normal" relationship and there are a lot of norms they don't stick to. Neither of them are ashamed of that in any capacity (as they absolutely shouldn't be), and ultimately it just feels very strange to them both to consider what's between them as being on the same level of what other's have. Not necessarily in a better-worse context, more just an acknowledgment of stark differences.

But I think Neil also experiences a certain level of comfort when he catches himself relating to other "normal" people. So when he finds himself thinking of Andrew when he hears this song, he's not going to ignore that or let it go. He may, however, keep it to himself for a while. It just feels nice to do that.

72. 99 Luftballons - Nena

As a general rule, Neil doesn't like loud music. This one is an exception (though "loud" may be a bit of a stretch here) because he once got to hear Andrew singing along to it in the car late at night.

Andrew does that sometimes, sings along to songs when it's just him and Neil. It's never with a great deal of gusto or volume, more so just a soft mumble on a late night drive to ground them both. This song came on on a particularly rough night, but by the end of it Andrew was singing along louder than he ever did. Still not saying much, but it was a noticeable change to Neil.

Neil knows he was allowed to see something special that night - Andrew allowing himself to let out something he was feeling. Neil got to see Andrew in what amounts to a moment of vulnerability for him. It means the world to him.

74. Gooey - Glass Animals

This song makes Neil feel the way Andrew makes him feel. There's no other way to describe it. When it's just the two of them and they have moments of quiet intimacy, there's a specific feeling Neil starts getting - float-y but secure. Like he'd drift away if it weren't for an invisible string Andrew was holding.

If Andrew caught Neil humming this song one night as he fell asleep, unaware, he kept quiet about it.

75. Turn - The Wombats

This song Neil keeps because it's one Andrew specifically sent him. He didn't give an explanation, just "for your playlist, rabbit".

[shinidamachu]

Tale As Old As Time

Summary: InuYasha, Kagome, movie night trope and my Disney obsession walk into a bar... Pre-canon fluff. Word Count: 2.159 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“Time to go to bed, birthday boy.” Mrs. Higurashi planted a kiss to Sota’s forehead and the sleepy child grunted softly.

“I’m not tired.” He protested, immediately yawning and contradicting his already fragile point.

“Yes, you are. Come on, now. It’s late. Grandpa is sleeping and I’d like to rest too.”

InuYasha observed the two of them interacting, as he often did. There was a feeling that always came along with it. He couldn’t quite put a nail on the head of it. Something between the most harmless kind of envy and the saddest type of longing. The sensation of a beautiful dream that escaped him by morning, forever out of reach, no matter how hard he tried to make the pieces of it to rise up again in the horizon of his mind.

He remembered his mother to be just as tender.

But did she ever kiss his forehead that way? Did they ever argue over sleeping time, InuYasha and his boyish stubbornness, she and her heavenly patience? How much of her was truly a memory and how much was his wishful imagination? The longer the years went, the thinner the line separating illusion from reality got. InuYasha feared the day would come, when he couldn’t tell the difference at all.

“Fine.” The boy gave in, fatigue stronger then his will and eyes barely open as he stood up and made his way upstairs. “Good night, everybody!”

“Sleep well!” Kagome replied.

“G’night, kid.” 

“InuYasha,” Called Mrs. Higurashi, “I take you’re spending the night?”

“Y-yeah. If that’s alright, I mean.”

“Of course it’s alright, dear! We don’t have a spare room, but we do have extra pillows. Kagome can get you one or two. Do you mind sleeping on the couch?”

InuYasha turned to Kagome, who promptly took his questioning look for what it was. Smiling, she tapped the comfortable surface of the furniture they were currently sitting on, mouthing ‘couch’ to translate her mother’s intentions.

It still caught him off guard, the extent of caring that lady nurtured for his well being. She had absolutely no obligation to. No motivation, other than the pure compassion of her heart. The same compassion he saw in her daughter.

“Oh! No, I don’t mind at all. Thank you.”

When it came to Kagome’s mom, he couldn’t help to be overly-polite. Even if by other people’s standards, that equaled to merely being polite. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, but that went beyond returning her gentle favors, it was crucial to be in the woman’s good graces. Maybe a small part of him wanted to be reminded how did it feel, getting used to motherly kindness.

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t you two stay up too late. I won’t let you go off to fight demons in the feudal era without a proper breakfast.”

“We won’t.” Kagome assured her. And that appeared to be enough. 

Following after her son, Mrs. Higurashi wished them sweet dreams and before he knew it, he was alone with Kagome.

It was Sota’s birthday, which, InuYasha learned, meant that a decade ago, on this exact day, the little guy was born. To celebrate the occasion, his family reserved the whole day so they could share delicious meals and bask on each other’s company. And to InuYasha’s surprise, his presence was requested there as well.

It wouldn’t be the first time he stayed over, but it was the first time her mom was aware of it. More than aware, encouraged him to do it. Even if InuYasha was fluent in the language of affection, even if he found the perfect words to explain it, he doubted one day she’d understand how much he valued her trust and acceptance.

Kagome cuddled up to InuYasha under the blanket they shared, tangling their arms and allowing her head to fall on his shoulder. His entire body stiffened in response. Was she really that oblivious to the effect she had on him or did she know just what she was doing? He was never able to figure it out. Regardless, resisting the sense of serenity that came with every aftershock was an impossible thing to do. As usual, InuYasha quickly surrendered. And as long as white flags consisted on leaning towards her touch, he was no opposed to it.

“She stayed.” and mesmerised, InuYasha stared at the magical box in front of them — a television, Kagome had told him. In her world, it seemed, there was something new to learn whenever he thought he had everything figured out. For the past four or so hours, they had been watching story after story unfold inside the strange device and Kagome had taken advantage of her brother’s crescent exhaustion to play some of her favorites.

“She couldn’t leave him there to die! He just saved her life.”

“Isn’t he a demon of sorts?”

“A beast.”

“Then it would have been fine, either way. He’s clearly stronger than humans.”

“Maybe. But she needed to see it for herself.”

“Why?”

Kagome sighed. 

“Because she’s already falling in love with him.”

Frowning, he mentally replayed the scenes, searching his brain for the signals he had so obviously missed.

The beast character was in love. InuYasha had no doubt about it. The girl had his heart the instant she volunteered to take her father’s place as his prisoner. He longed for her presence — despite her refusal to indulge him — and put effort into treating her nicely — despite not extending the same courtesy to anyone else. Everything she said, everything she did, had the power to drag him down or sweep him off his feet. He struggled with expressing the sentiment, his pride and bad temper getting in the way. But it was there. The situation was all too relatable for InuYasha not to recognize it.

The girl, though? The idea of her falling in love with the likes of him was absurd. Why would she? It was to be expected that someone graced with such intelligence and beauty would have known her own value better than to fall for a monster.

And yet, Kagome was right.

The tale went on and the girl took the beast to safety. A life for a life. They were even. She was free to go.

Still, she stayed by his side until he healed and every day after that. Because she could see right through his tough facade and was never being afraid of giving him a piece of her mind. And he saw her in return, welcoming the habits her own village judged her for maintaining. Against all odds, they understood each other like the last two native speakers of a tongue long claimed by oblivion.

Of their own accord, InuYasha’s eyes fell into Kagome.

“The best part is coming up.” She announced, thankfully snapping him out of his treacherous thoughts.

Song started playing, a sweet melody filling the air. All of the sudden, Kagome was moving the furniture around.

“Watcha doin’?”

Rather than responding, the priestess took him by the hand and guided him to the center of the room. Dumbfound, InuYasha watched as she silently raised his arm at shoulders height, placing his free palm firmly on her back right after.

By the time InuYasha picked up her intentions, they were already spinning around, dancing barefoot under the television light.

InuYasha had never learned how to dance. Between a battle for his life and the next, the opportunity didn’t present itself and, to be honest, the notion he was missing out on something hadn’t occurred to him. The whole thing seemed so out of his brutal reality, it was almost futile.

And despite finding himself wishing he had the necessary skills to better follow her movements, InuYasha discovered dancing with Kagome to be a surprisingly easy task. There was something peculiarly natural about the way she rested her head over his chest as they slowly swayed to the rhythm. He wondered if she noticed the inflation of it as he breathed her in, the scent he had grown to love so much overflowed his senses with a hint of corn and butter.

Kagome pulled away from him on cue with the song, using the hand holding hers to whirl away from him without ever breaking contact, only to swirl back to his embrace. The more they repeated the steps, the more his confidence grew and, passed the awkward phase, InuYasha was actually enjoying himself.

Too soon, the tune came to an end.

InuYasha stood there, unsure of what to do. Self awareness manifested itself hot pink on his cheeks. He had just danced with Kagome. And he had liked it. And he wanted to keep going.

She stared at him, a big smile on her face as if he was the one to give her a present and not the other way around.

“I always wanted to do that,” she confessed in a nervous laugh. Her gaze avoided his but her body remained in place, pleasantly close. “Anyway… Thanks for coming today. It meant a lot to Sota.”

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

Belle… Are you… Happy here with me?

Yes!

The distant voices brought the half demon down to Earth. For a second there, he had forgotten all about everything that wasn’t her. Their words sank in and InuYasha felt his curiosity blossom. He had to ask, even if the answer scared the shit out of him.

“Are you?”

“Huh?”

“Happy there with me... Are you?”

“Of course!” Guaranteed Kagome. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

There was an unspoken rule to never talk about it. The subject was too delicate, too painful to discuss. Kagome being Kikyo’s reincarnation and falling down that well was not an unpretentious whim of fate. It carried purpose, and once that purpose was fulfilled… Well, he’d rather fight Naraku over and over than having to face the dreading thought of an after.

Miroku and Sango had their future set. Defeating Naraku meant getting rid of the Wind Tunnel and setting Kohaku free, one way or the other. They could finally get married, start a family. Even Shippo had plans to keep doing those fox demon exams in order to improve his powers. InuYasha seemed to be the only one in the dark. His goal was to become a full demon, but that was then. What he wanted now and who he wanted with, had changed into something way more uncertain.

When they defeat Naraku, Kagome won’t hang out in his era as often. Without any further obligations there, she could dispense as many time she judged appropriate for her school thing and they would only see each other sporadically.

There was also the real possibility the Honekui no Ido would close forever. With their mission done, so was the need to allow their temporal trips, and that meant separation. As far as logic goes, he didn’t belong in her world and she didn’t belong in his. 

Yet, she fitted  into his life so well.

The prospect of Kagome choosing to live in the past with him was his favorite ‘what if’. But he had no right to ask her such thing of her, nor was he selfish to the point of actually doing it. She was his friend and even if they were something more, it was crazy to think she would drop her friends, family and everything she knows just for him. How could he ever compete with that?

“I dunno, you do run off here a lot. I guess I just thought you didn’t like there as much.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel this way, InuYasha. But it’s not the case at all. It’s just… I have a life here too, you know?”

“Keh. ‘Course I do.”

She smiled fondly

“Aren’t I lucky to have two places to call home?”

Something inside him melted into a smile of his own.

Their tomorrow was a cloudy day. Changeable and blurry. All he could do was hoping it would clear up.

Of one thing, though, InuYasha was certain: if she so wanted, he could leave everything behind and stay in her side of the well as it closes. The place was loud, too crowded for his taste and the smells were overwhelming, but they would be together and for him that was home.

“I suppose.”

“Come on, let’s watch the rest of the movie. It has the perfect ending.”

Doing as he was told, InuYasha walked to the couch, where Kagome nestled against him again.

Maybe it was foolish not telling her how he felt, how he have been feeling for a while now. It sounded insane to ignore the fear of losing her, of losing his home, always there lurking in the shadows. Maybe he was a mad man for keeping all of the things he desperately needed reassurance of at bay in exchange of enjoying that moment with her.

But right then, the hope of another dance was enough.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS S-

Thank you all for reading. Maybe you've noticed I'm writing fluff stories a little more. I feel like it's not my best suit so I'm trying to give it practice. Still have a lot to improve and this wasn't edited, so be nice.

Anyway... Here is something sweet for @sophtin​ (and my self indulgent ass). Hope you rot your teeth, baby.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (4/17)

Summary:  “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: Feedback is very much appreciated!

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Link to cross-postings: AO3

As it turned out, Hange’s thesis wasn’t just about jumping.

But it would be nice to do it about flying. She had mentioned, echoing that same sentiment in those numerous interviews he had read.

A case study on the changes of an athletes body and muscle composition from preseason to postseason.  

Levi only found out exactly what Hange and Moblit were doing for their final thesis as she ran through it with him over coffee the morning after they met in the lab. He had to admit, he had forgotten whether or not Moblit had explained that same thing to him which was probably just easily overshadowed by the pages and pages of waivers that had been laid out in front of him.

Hange had a different approach to the documentation. She had the same waivers that needed to be signed but had completely understood that no one would have that same drive to read the whole thing and consider the nuances and implications of every bullet point. She had just asked him to check everything and sign or she would not be able to work with him.

Compensation. Injury Insurance. Transportation Subsidy. Meal Subsidy

Levi quickly complied. In fact, he probably would have complied even without the benefits that came with participating in the study. He was already half way through mindlessly checking the boxes by the time Hange had mentioned those parts after all.

“Everything is funded.” Hange had explained. He knew their university was particularly well off. Being an athlete he had been a beneficiary multiple times of free branded shoes, gym bags jackets, meals and even gadgets with championship wins

The generous funding she had received to conduct the research was particularly seen in the well equipped sports facility where Hange was to conduct said research.

Cardiovascular endurance, strength power, speed, power etc. He listed the physical fitness components she wanted to study, the logistics of switching partners and starting anew completely forgotten.

It had been less than 24 hours since he visited her office and it was as if Hange wasn’t as deep into her research as Moblit had made it out to be.

She’s been cooped up in the lab lately, watching track and field videos.

She’s already been talking to Elijah, they did a few tests.

There was truth to what Moblit had told him. Hange did admit to having already the preliminary data needed for her case study but as Hange had shown him soon after they started talking, she had no problem just scrapping her data or giving it to Moblit and starting again from scratch.

As Levi soon found out, she was too passionate about her research to consider the preliminary data wasted work.

Levi had found that last part out after their talk in the lab after she had casually mentioned her lurker Instagram account on top of her blatant refusal to use Facebook and Twitter since too many social media sites were just too much to manage. He could not resist the urge to check the accounts she followed and just as he expected, they were all famous athletes from all different fields, the one thing common about all athletes being the almost inhuman height and airtime they achieved.

Nanaba Briete her friend and the subject of her high school thesis, was a volleyball player. Elijah Miller was a horizontal jumper. Moblit pointed out as well, her data for both players was too comprehensive beyond what was expected from someone of her level of study.

Levi soon realized with her YouTube and Instagram lurker activity, she probably was a stan and for some reason, he was one of the objects of her stanning activity. Levi had seen those types of people on Twitter and Instagram. They had weird voting conglomerations, used some sort of weird language and interacted incessantly with any post on the object of their stanning activity  Hange was not vocal in particular, her Instagram profile and YouTube channels both empty.  He only had to go through the profiles she followed to see that she left likes in most if not all pictures. Among those she had liked were profiles that reposted pictures of his jumps.

Liked by Wingsoffreedom132 and thousands of others.

Levi soon realized after hours going through most if not all the accounts she followed that just like the average stan, Hange spammed the like button like crazy

Looking deep into the comments of one of his jumps that year, he had found a comment from her. A pair of wings and a heart next to it.

How long has she been following him?

Did she have those dreams too?

“Why?”

“Why what?” Hange asked.

“Why me?” Levi continued.

“I told you before. You're amazing. Your forms are all perfect, your body composition is good and that crazy fast improvement  from no name player to rookie of the year?" Hange seemed too sure of herself and glimmer of hope that somehow she had any inkling of their connection in Levi's dreams dissipated. She started to rattle off numbers relating to Levi’s height differentials and vertical leap every year since high school, Levi had to note that there was some truth to what she was saying.

High jumping events had suddenly become much easier for Levi when he moved to the city for college. He had attributed it to the more frequent training that came with the more competitive environment of collegiate sports. It was an ironic turn of events though since that was also around the same time he had started experiencing those painful mornings after dreaming things he could barely member. He chose not to mention that just yet. The connection was just too illogical to be a causation or even correlation issue. It might have even just been an irrelevant coincidence.

Levi continued to listen as she explained schedules and outlines for meet ups. There was preliminary data gathering, multiple tests to be done on weekends in a sports facility a little farther away from the school. There were a few more documents that needed to be answered and submitted similar to what Moblit had sent. It would be time consuming, inconvenient. The prospect of Hange being there made it somewhat bearable.

So bearable, that Levi had found himself arriving at the train station Saturday morning one hour earlier than they agreed upon. They were going to the sports facility for preliminary data gathering. To his pleasant surprise, Hange was already there waiting.

“I hope you don’t mind the shitty schedule,” Hange said in greeting. She was staring at the duffel bag Levi had slung over his shoulder.

Levi had to stay overnight. With the sports facilities being shared among multiple researchers and multiple athletes, Hange found the most she could secure for a last minute booking was an early morning slot, offering instead to provide lodging to Levi for a night so he wouldn’t have to take a taxi late night and early morning when the trains were already closed.

“As long as there’s a place to stay.” It’s still better than commuting at 3am.

“Let’s drop your stuff first.”

The sports facility was a 15 minute train ride and as Levi exited the station, he was greeted by a large building that stretched out a fair number of meters in both directions. Was that the sports facility?

That wasn’t their destination though. Hange guided him through a few alleys and out into a main street where a quaint mid rise condominium was located right to their left.  

“My condo only has one bedroom so I hope you won’t mind staying on the couch. It has a pull out bed though so you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.”

Somehow Levi had expected a hotel. “Wait, I’m staying in your place?”

The area Hange lived in turned out to be only 15 minutes away by train but oddly enough, it was Levi’s first time there. He found himself just gazing at nothing in particular but whatever was in front of him at that moment as they walked through the streets. They were going to have brunch in a nearby cafe, Hange had clarified. He found himself particularly entertained by the crowds, the grey pavement and the tall buildings that lined his view all making up the urban jungle of the center of town.

The university and the surrounding town where Levi spent a good chunk of his five years was located in a quieter part of the city which Levi had gotten accustomed to pretty fast when he moved there. He never left that area unless necessary for competitions or for schoolwork. Consequently, he was not completely used to the bustle at the center of the city,

They had settled into a diner in a small part or town with Hange offering to pay for the lunch. As soon as they had given their orders, Hange slid a document to him with the words “personal data sheet” written in bold on the top. “In the final output, you will remain anonymous, Erwin just requested we keep the basic data on everyone we study.” Hange explained.

Levi scanned the document before looking up at Hange again. By the way she had looked at him, Levi was sure she could have answered some of it for him. “Why don’t you answer it for me.“ He challenged.

“It’s your data Levi so I---”

“I wanna see how much about me you know.” Levi answered with a no-nonsense tone.

Hange turned red as she pulled the form back towards herself. She scribbled a few things on the paper. “Where do you live?”

Levi gave his city and province.

“I knew that much.” Hange admitted. “Exact address?”

Levi answered it briefly, spelling it out when needed.  “How many siblings do I have? What are their names?”

“Trick question. You’re an only child.” Hange said, looking up from the data sheet.

“The number question isn’t a trick question. You can answer with zero.” Levi continued. He did not need to make an effort to keep his tone playful. He was amused already. “And how do you know about my family?”

“Interviews.” Hange answered briefly.

Levi smiled. “I know you’re an only child too.”

“How did you know that?” Hange asked.

“Interviews.” Levi could see she had relaxed, a small smile creeping up her lips.

“So you’re researching me too.” She asked.

“You started it.”

“Which city am I actually from?” Hange challenged.

“You grew up here…” Levi answered. He sat up a little straighter. Seeing the amused smile on Hange's face, Levi felt it was a good time for other questions. His mind raced as he articulated one of his passing thoughts as he read through her articles.  “Which brings up the question, if you live so near campus, why do you live in your own condo?” The public transport here isn’t shit either. Levi noted to himself. She had little excuse to live alone and from the looks of her place, she seemed to come from a well off family who could at least afford a place like that.  

“I wanted freedom.”

                           A Tale of Two Slaves

The gym was huge. It was also so complete, the coverage so comprehensive that Levi was almost inspired to take up all the sports offered. They had indoor basketball courts, tennis courts and a complete track and field set.

The important part Hange pointed out as they entered though were the devices that could measure things like speed, weight, pulse, all necessary for her study. One of the more boring parts of the tour but surprising none the least.

Levi found himself particularly fixated on the fact that Hange was greeting everyone in the job like a regular.

"Hey, you weren't at the gym this morning."

"Had to pick up my friend here. He'll be helping me with my thesis."

Levi felt a tap on his back, brief and light. Maybe hesitant? Levi could not help but entertain the passing thought that if he were Moblit or maybe anyone else, she probably would have had her arm around his shoulders. He had seen her make that gesture towards Moblit and Elijah after all.

As Hange walked towards the desk and made conversation with what looked to be the receptionist, Levi watched her from behind. At first she had seemed too nerdy and too geeky that he had expected her to be lanky under the sweaters and the white coats she wore.

That day, she was in shorts and a blouse and Levi could not help but notice how her body curved underneath her clothes, and as he focused on her legs, he could make out the subtle muscle cuts on her legs. Hange's physique was definitely more toned than average and Levi pondered Hange's own physical fitness.

Her vertical. Her endurance. Her strength. The same things she had mentioned wanting to study about him.

As Hange gave him a tour though, Levi decided that it could wait until later.

                               A Tale of Two Slaves

That morning, with only less than a minute to drop his bag and could only afford a glance of her room.

As he arrived back there late in the afternoon  after a long tour of the gym, he had to stop himself from making a face. The fastidious side of him was silently judging Hange.

It was obvious in the way Hange had prepared the bed and the way that most tables and furniture had space for a visitor to sit or rest that Hange had at least cleaned in anticipation.

But she's a horrible cleaner.

The sofa bed was prepared but the sheets were wrinkled. The trashcan was overflowing, a disturbing sign that Hange did not segregate her trash. The dining table was empty but a display table at the corner of the room took the brunt of what Levi guessed the dining table used to carry.

There were jackets messily folded on the display table and Levi recognized her schoolbag particularly by the keychain he had returned only a few days ago.

“Make yourself at home.” Hange dropped a few towels on the sofa bed before making her way to her own bedroom. “You can use the shower in the powder room. Also, what do you want for dinner?”

“Anything.” Levi answered. He was still bothered by the state of the room to demand much of anything. The food was free, the accommodation was free, he felt guilty just complaining internally.

Hange seemed unbothered by the shitty state of her “cleaned up room.” In fact she had seemed proud as she toured him around her house. As Levi watched Hange with her goofy smile as she played with her phone in between bites of the pizza they had ordered, he could not help but feel guilty for having harbored such negative thoughts when Hange seemed more relaxed than he had seen her in a while.

“What are you watching?” Levi asked, an attempt at conversation more than anything. There were things he had wanted to ask her, yet at that moment, he felt would seem too intrusive.

Hange turned her phone to him. The video Hange had been looking at was that figure skater glided to the rink and jumped into the air, rotating quickly.

“I didn’t know you liked figure skating.” Levi said, his eyes focused on the heart on the side, to see it filled over. Hange liked the video.

“I like a lot of sports. I definitely would have wanted to try skating as a kid. Maybe gymnastics or even track."

Levi tried to imagine Hange in a tutu or a leotard, having to hold back a snort as he did. “You never looked like the type to wear a dress.”

“I wouldn’t. But I’m pretty sure you know how fun it would be to be able to launch yourself up in the air like that. You’ve done it multiple times.”

Levi thought back to the interviews he had read, the answers she had made even since grade school. I want to see how people can fly . “Why didn’t you take a sport as a kid?”

The smile she had given him after was wry, a little sullen and Levi knew he must have hit something sensitive inside her. “Because my parents didn’t allow me. If I take gymnastics, I’d break my neck. If I take skating, I’d break my spine. If I take track and field, I’d break my knees." She explained in an almost mocking town." They never ran out of excuses when it came to sports. But when it came to academics, they were always shipping me off to some new competition.”

I wanted freedom. That afternoon in the cafe, Hange had answered it so casually, he had brushed it off as they continued to fill out the data sheets. As he listened to Hange explain her situation right there, Levi could not help but recall a twinge of sadness in Hange’s voice as she had said the word ��freedom.”

“Don’t get me wrong, academics can be fun.” Hange said.  “But I don’t think it’s ever going to beat the adrenaline rush of jumping or sprinting.”

“And that’s why you’re going to the gym a lot now.”

“I’m in college. My parents can’t stop me now. But yeah, my childhood is done. I don’t think I’ll ever get to your level, even when I train everyday.”

Levi had heard people say that before. The body of a child is flexible, the bones and muscles can still be easily molded. By the time people grow to be adults, their body is set and sure, they could probably jump or run along a track casually, collegiate competition and professional competitions were out of the question for most if not all people who start a sport as an adult.

"Maybe I can teach you?"

                                    A Tale of Two Slaves

The Hange in Levi’s dreams was able to fly. She was the one who would be screaming as they glided through the air in those contraptions. She had the ability to launch herself up in the air, to flip, to spin, just like the athletes in the videos she constantly followed.

Hange wasn't at all out of shape either. In fact as he saw her in gym clothes and as he watched her do a few rounds around the empty track, he had to note that her form was good. Her physique and the cuts in her muscles were also well defined. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the Hange who was watching him do rounds of jumps as she took notes was the same Hange in his dreams.

The bar Hange had set for him was clearable with little to no effort. After clearing a few rounds, enough for Hange to be satisfied with the preliminary data, he took the stopwatch from her hands and guided her to the place he had positioned himself a while ago. He opted to adjust it a few centimeters lower, at a height he had seen less skilled jumpers back in high school clear with no problems.

He spent a few minutes going  through the basics with her, particularly the method of softening a landing, having seen teammates from long ago get injured from that in particular.

“You’ve seen me jump countless times. I’m sure you can do it.” Levi assured. He knew that that last part was for himself more than anything. It pained him to see her nervous. Her face was a far cry from the Hange he knew.

She should know how to do it right?

Keeping the bar at its minimum and going through that landing with Hange a few times had turned out to be a good decision. It was in the way Hange had run to the bar, through the way her eyes went wild as she ran and as she landed right next to the bar that had fallen did Levi realize though, that Hange was terrified.

Terrified yet determined. Hange went back to her starting point and prepared herself for it a few more times.

“You don’t have that bounce in your step when you take off.” Levi bounced on the balls of his feet a few times for emphasis.

Hange gave him a quick nod before readying herself to run again. Levi could see she was tired. As Hange went through the motions pre jump, Levi could feel his heart beat faster. It took him a split second longer to realize why. Hange’s motions were wild and unsynchronized.

Levi did not say anything for fear of distracting her and possibly causing injury. He found himself running towards her instead. He was too late though. By the time he had arrived by the bars, she had fallen on it. One side of the bar flailed up in the air as Hange landed and she let out a loud gasp of surprise.

“Hey, you okay?” Levi asked, as he crouched next to her. He had kept his voice soft for fear of her hearing the panic in it.

Hange was lying face up on the mat, her light brown eyes looking longingly above her.

They had started training in the stadium at four in the morning, hours before the sun was scheduled to rise. It was only when Levi saw how unnaturally light Hange’s eyes were did he realized the ceiling above them was glass, and the sun had risen enough for the light to reflect on it.

“Must be nice to fly huh?” Hange voiced out before sitting back up again. “I’m fine but I think I bruised my shoulder.” She reached out for her right shoulder with her left hand and winced.

Having been jumping almost his whole life, Levi had forgotten for a while, how difficult the mechanics would be to pick up for the average adult. While gazing at Hange who had bent her head back and continued to watch the sunrise from the glass ceiling, Levi continued to reflect on it. If it were any other person, he probably would have even removed the bar as he thought them the mechanics.

The game changer in those particular circumstances was that it was Hange he was teaching, the subject of his dreams, the one who was flying with him from tree to tree in the forest. The one who was smiling and doing backflips, provoking him to chase her. For the life of him, Levi could not believe that she was not able to clear that jump.

                                   A Tale of Two Slaves

The sullen mood of a while ago quickly dissipated to something a little more bearable when Levi suggested they play on the trampolines adjacent to the track.

It had felt ridiculous at first. As Hange continued to gaze upward, mumbling about wanting to fly and as Levi himself dealt with the disappointment of what just happened, it had seemed like a logical suggestion.

It was the most mindless way he could come up with to get both of them flying and jumping and maybe, get them both cheered up in the process. They only had to bounce a few times for it to be exciting. After a few bounces, Hange started to laugh, she started to scream in excitement.

The same excited scream he had heard so many times before in his dreams. Levi found himself staring at Hange as she jumped. The spark in her eye was brighter than it had ever been. Her cheeks were starting to flush from what could have been excitement or exhaustion. After what could have been a few more minutes of jumping, Hange landed on her ass and let out a loud laugh in between gasps.

“Something tells me you haven’t done this before.” Levi said as he settled on the floor of the trampoline next to her.

“Parents didn’t allow me.They said I’d break my ankle.” Hange answered, after she had gotten control of her ragged breathing. She was sweaty and flushed but she looked carefree.

That was the Hange Levi was familiar with. Before Levi even noticed it, he had brought out his hand and lightly touched her on the side of her arm. Oddly enough, she did not resist the light and quick squeeze he had given her. As Levi looked closely at her, he guessed she probably didn’t notice or didn’t care. He quickly let go of her arm, a few seconds after he had noticed the odd action. Before that, he had allowed himself a few seconds to process the  warmth of her skin and the up and down movement that came with her heavy breathing. It was oddly calming and assuring.

She's real. She's alive. She's warm and she's breathing.

Soon after that, they were kicked out of the gym.  Actually, no one had kicked them out. The Sunday gym goers though had taken up their territory on the track as they started their warmups. Levi and Hange soon realized their time was up. The rude awakening to that reality had felt like they were being kicked out anyway.

It also turned out the giant trampoline Levi suggested they played on was only for the children's use. One reason, Hange had never bothered to touch it even when she did frequent the gym.

Hange had sleepily explained that part to him as she sprawled herself on the sofa of her condominium that afternoon. The early morning in the gym had left her exhausted. She fell asleep soon after and Levi could not help but notice the smile on her face as she slept. He wondered if she usually smiled in her sleep.

Levi settled himself on one of the chairs around the dining table in a good position to watch her, busying himself by going through all the Instagram profiles Hange had followed, following them using his own account. Some of the videos were in slow motion and Levi found himself in that same blackhole as Hange had been in many times before, begrudgingly agreeing that Hange was right.

The slow motion videos in particular showed the detail. The way the legs make a slight bounce before launching up, the slight movements the body made as it is suspended in the air. Levi knew there was a lot of body coordination involved in getting the highest vertical possible. Seeing the body work together, the miniscule movements all cooperating to get the jumper spinning, flipping or twisting was oddly satisfying. Levi was distracted, so distracted the only thing that could break it was the vibration of his phone accompanying the banner on top.

Coach Greg.

Levi was once again pulled out of his blackhole. Of course he’d have to train. He had missed multiple trainings the past week due to the wound in his knee. He had also missed yesterday morning’s training having to meet Hange. Their season was starting in a few weeks and he was their best chance at a championship that year. Levi wasn’t too surprised that their coach was more than ready to run through drills with him on a Sunday night.

After a few minutes of digging through Hange’s unit, Levi managed to unearth a pile of post-its and a pen. Thank you for letting me stay over. Gotta run. He wrote. He kept it short and simple, knowing he would probably end up chatting with her soon anyway. He stuck it on the dining table, slung his overnight bag over his shoulder and silently left the room.

As he took the train back to campus, Levi continued on his little blackhole. A video was just released, taken in a tournament in Russia just a few days back.

Quad Queen Alexandra Trusova.

Levi did not know his way around figure skating jumps but he found himself watching it in slow motion anyway. The sped up version was surprising but the slow motion version that followed was mesmerizing. Levi counted four spins in the air, noting both the slight bounce before the jump and the bounce that followed the landing.

As Levi refreshed the video on his phone, he could not help but notice that Hange’s name still wasn’t among those who had liked the photo. Was she still asleep?

He could only imagine the smile she makes as she watches videos. He clicked the paper airplane icon below the videos, scrolled through the users and clicked send on Wingsoffreedom132. He made sure to add a wings emoji and a heart emoji, the way Hange had done in a few of the videos.

Somehow, after doing that, it became easier to imagine that goofy smile a little more vividly.

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Well, folks, I had intended to put another bit up. Since Ao3 is down, I’ll go ahead and post it here. Just some more Astarion x Ferelith banter. I’ll edit it tomorrow with the links to Ao3. Also, I have not played the game. So I’m not sure how the telepathy works.

A Prying Shame

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Curiosity was in his nature. And when Ferelith turns him down for a glance into her past, it only grows inside him. Especially after he had already opened up to her. Though, will his prying take him too far? And would she accept an apology?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse.

Read here on Ao3.

Once and only once he had the thought of peering into her memories without her knowing. And that was only after she had declined allowing him to enter in first place. Ferelith's head was a hard safe to crack. And no matter how many picks he had thrown to her lock, nothing opened. There were safeguards in place. Not to mention the fact her mind was a complete fortress on it's own. He knew the only way in was with a bit of help and when she was vulnerable.

There were some nights, particularly when the moon was full, that Ferelith would wander to commune with the fey. She needed total privacy to do so. He imagined once she was meditating, she wouldn't need to concentrate on anything but what was needed to manifest her thoughts. Therefore, she would not even feel him coming. When the time came, and the moon was high, he waited for her to disappear from camp. It was difficult to tell if she truly was gone since her footsteps were quiet and her demeanor was unnoticeable. Still, he was willing to take the risk as he followed where he could only assume she would be resting.

Finding her was not difficult. Ferelith had a very distinct smell, something of a sweet incense and dead wood. He followed that about a mile into the forest where he found a clearing. In the center seated upon a very large old stump, was the maiden warlock. Her legs were folded beneath her, her hands resting upon her knees. She appeared to be at peace, her eyes close and her mouth muttering whispers he could not understand. She was in a complete trance. And he saw the opportunity while her mind was open.

He reached out, his fingers tangling into what felt like an ice cold stream flowing through the air. It thickened to string and intertwined into his fingertips. He could feel himself pulling on them when he flexed. But Ferelith did not stir. He pulled them closer, bringing them to his temple where he stared at her intently.

There was a girl running in a white dress, her steps muffled by the sound of moss beneath her feet. The wood was naked with no green, their branches reaching up toward a black sky. Her head turned over her shoulder and he saw the streaks of tears through a dirt stained face. Her eyes, usually so bold and yellow were filled with a fear he did not recognize. In their reflection he could make out the small balls of flame from the torches behind her. She picked up the front of her dress, already torn to one side, hoping she could move faster. One leg leapt in front of the other as if they were familiar with the giant roots tangled into the ground below.

Astarion did the best he could to follow, but the memory was dark. She was familiar with the wood. And her mind was much stronger. He waited until the mob passed by, following at their pace to seek the maiden in white. That was not what they called her, however. Among them the common word for what they were hunting... was hag. Astarion curled his lip. What an insulting word for such a beautiful creature.  An arrow let fly. And he heard it whistle into the treeline before hitting it's mark. A horrifying scream sounded ahead. They quickened their speed and he was appalled to be there with them listening to their cries of joy.

When he made it to Ferelith... she was already being drug by her hair, an arrow sticking out from her chest. They poked her with the ends of their weapons, shouting at her to remove her disguise. She said nothing, her eyes looking up in both rage and terror. She kicked and clawed and bit and hissed, much a like a cornered animal of the wild. The dress was torn from her body as she cried out, their weapons coming down upon her to bruise her pale flesh. For the first time, he felt compelled to look away from her naked figure. There were bruises, whip lashes, cuts from daggers, burn marks, and many scars. This was not the first time she had been tormented. They began to tie her feet when a loud sound boomed from what felt like the center of the forest. The mob stopped, raising the attention to one side of the wood. Their grips tightened on the torches, desperate for a light to show what was approaching.

They received their light. But it was not from what they prayed for. A massive light shown through the trees as if the sun itself was barrelling through. It was faster than any animal they had seen, and many began to run from instinct. The fools who chose to stay were pummeled quickly to the ground. And the even more foolish who attacked it fell in the dirt crying in pain. At a closer glance, the bright light had taken shape. And as Ferelith rose up from the ground to leap onto it's back, it looked at him with white eyes. A stag with curled horns looked into him. He looked back up to Ferelith to see she, too, was looking directly at him. It was time to go. They had discovered the intruder...

The memory snapped back and it was too late to move. Stepping backward to avoid her wrath, he tripped over a bush directly behind him. Ferelith was atop him, her hand reaching out and snatching his face. She pulled him up, her palm cupping his chin and her long black nails digging into his cheeks. He could see the markings on her fingers just outside his view. But more noticeable was her face. It was always the eyes with her. The glowing yellow eyes.

"How dare you," she said in a low tone that hardly sounded angry at all. "You trespass into my thoughts during the night of the moon? You defile my sacred place as I try to rest? And you read my memories while I commune with someone else?"

"I... I ..." he didn't know what to say.

His words tripped over his tongue as child would its first steps.

"Are an insult to this forsaken group," she threw him down.

He felt the force, but he was much stronger so the most he gave was small nudge to the ground. As she turned her back to him, he sprung to his feet stepping after her into the clearing.

"I only thought I'd get a glimpse of-"

"You were being meddlesome. Eavesdropping for the sake of your own curiosity. Nothing more."

"Damn it, Ferelith. If you would just-"

"You can't talk your way out of this Astarion," she turned to look upon him. The fury had subsided. It was now the hurt he was witnessing. The same eyes he saw looking at up at those men. Guilt was not an easy emotion for him. But realizing he had taken advantage of her, just as they did, was worse than any guilt he could ever think to feel.

"I saw your intentions... just as you saw mine..."

Just then, he saw a light ever so faint in the forest go cold as he caught sight of it. The stag from the dream... had been one of the fey. There was another flash of a memory as Ferelith looked into his eyes. The bleeding arrow, the horns of the stag, the look in her eyes... it was the night she made her pact. The memory was the connection the two shared, the sacred path that linked them. And he had desecrated it.

"I..." there was a long pause, his hands stretched out and his mouth open. "... am a fool."

"Flattery will get you no where, spawn. Leave me."

Spawn. It was what she called him the first time they met. It was meant as an insult, to demean him. She had been disgusted with his kind. Then, for some reason, she had changed her mind. Part of him believed it was his art of persuasion. Or perhaps he was succeeding at seducing the warlock. Now, he felt like he knew nothing of her. That he wiped away everything he kept of her. And he needed to start over. He watched her disappear deeper into the forest, the darkness swallowing her as she followed the light.

Ferelith glanced down into the basket, observing it only as garbage he had found somewhere during their travels.

"What is this?" she growled.

"An apology," he said, his tone serious but still lacking sincerity.

He knew Ferelith wasn't going to appear pleased. He knew very well she may not even be grateful for the effort he put forth in his attempt to regain her favor. But he also knew he was at the very least trying. And it was all he had to offer.

"There's red wine. A variation of flowers. And some... bones... of some thing I ki- I mean found."

Ferelith opened the lid to the basket and peered inside.

"None of these flowers can be used for spells or tea," she said flatly.

"That's not the point," Astarion looked at her in annoyance.

"Then what's the point?"

"They're pretty."

She blinked at him.

"I forget this is why I'm so fond of you," he sighed. "They were pretty flowers that reminded me... that reminded me of how beautiful you are."

"Out of all the useful flowers in this wood... these were the ones you chose?"

"Yes! Do you know the meaning of sentimental value?"

She looked down into the basket. The flowers' petals were dark purple that were even darker toward the center. The outer petals blossomed outward while the ones on the inside remained folded. Either he was very clever in his choice... or it was a coincidence.

"If you look into my thoughts again... it will be of your death."

She slammed the lid on the basket, snatching it from the ground before storming off. Again, he would never dream of following her if he had no reason to. But curiosity was his weak point. This time, however, he waited much longer to follow. What he found when he discovered her was well worth the risk. Ferelith was bathing in the river, her body half submerged on the bank. There was a wreathe of purple flowers in her hair, the wine bottle in one hand, and the skull of a dead animal in the other. It appeared... she was talking to it. And the bottle was half empty.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Dear Mr. Fantasy

Summary: Sometimes when he sleeps, Dean sees flashes of other Dean Winchesters, in other universes. His dreams lately have been filled with himself in a thousand forms, a thousand different versions of what could have been. Dean likes to think that they’re made of the same star stuff, but whatever the cause, he feels the connection. 

Warnings: SEASON 15 SPOILERS, bit of angst. 

Author’s Note: Inspired by Traffic’s “Dear Mr. Fantasy” and the header image; prompt given by @thoughtslikeaminefield​. Love you. @cabin-fever-bang​ prompt fill. So many thanks to @cracksinthewalls​ and @there-must-be-a-lock​ for exceptional editing and motivation. Also love both of you.

Word Count: 2157

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Dear Mr. Fantasy

Sometimes when he sleeps, Dean sees flashes of other Dean Winchesters, in other universes. His dreams lately have been filled with himself in a thousand forms, a thousand different versions of what could have been. Dean likes to think that they’re made of the same star stuff, but whatever the cause, he feels the connection. 

Some have been vastly different (he spent an entire day lost in thought about a female version of himself who was apparently a rodeo queen by day and monster hunter by night). 

Some are so similar that the lines between his actual self and the other blur to the point of confusion; is he dreaming about himself or a different Dean who made one different choice twenty years ago?

He can always tell the difference, eventually. A scar in the wrong place, an absent friend or loved one still around or maybe someone gone who shouldn’t be. In one universe, someone neglected Baby (couldn’t have been Dean, had to’ve been Sam) to the point where she pulls slightly to the left. 

Dean spends the morning after that dream with a muscle tick in his cheek and a suspicious, side-eyed glare for Sam that he never bothers to explain.

But there’s one particular Other Dean, a favorite one his mind drifts to during rare peaceful moments. Daydreaming when he should be researching, drifting off when a particular song plays on the radio while he’s working on Baby, even washing his hands sometimes will pull him back to those dreams. 

Unsurprisingly, his favorite alternate world has no monsters. It’s not that he isn’t aware of monsters in this dimension, that he doesn’t hunt them. No, in this other world, there’s no magic, no terrifying creatures of the night at all. He can feel the lightness of this world, steadiness that comes with not having to worry about whether a vampire is going to make this evening walk your last or a wendigo is going to join you on your camping trip.

Dean has a theory that this world was a test world, one where Chuck decided to just let things evolve as they would with very little interference. Humanity still has its issues: war, plague, famine, politics, streaming services that have lived long enough to become the villain. 

But no monsters.

Chuck has left this world more or less alone, and Dean is pretty sure he knows why. In God’s eyes, a world without monsters is stale. This alternate world is a world without supernatural conflict, without apocalypse-level struggle, without life and death and good and evil and all that high-stakes, cursed-destiny crap Chuck literally eats for breakfast.

Boring. This world is a snoozefest for Chuck, and Dean’s okay with that.

In fact, he loves it.

He’s been rooting for this world for a while now. He still dreams of it sometimes, so he knows somewhere deep inside that it’s still around. He knows all the worlds will be destroyed eventually, wiped away by Chuck’s callous cruelty. But this one…

Dean’s not the sentimental type, not really, but if he could send it a greeting card, it’d be that cat from years ago on the motivational poster, clawing onto a tree branch.

Hang in there, baby.

He must have done something right for once, because he drifts off and finds himself back there again. He’s a little older in this universe, and he suspects his other self is in denial about beginning to need glasses. A shame, too. A mechanic’s gotta be able to see what he’s doing, and the eyestrain headaches his other self suffers every night would probably clear up completely if he’d just go get his eyes checked.

But they both know he won’t. 

He sees better with his hands than his eyes these days. At forty-eight years old (none of that years young bullshit, either; he’s old, and he’s goddamn earned it), he’s spent his entire life in a garage working on one motor or another, same as his dad before him, and so on. 

It’s honest work, clean despite the grease, and Dean himself has used his own money to help put at least a couple of generations of little Winchesters through college or wherever their hearts took them, starting back with his brother. Dean and his dad both feel pride over Dr. Winchester, the history professor. Might not make as much as a mechanic, but he’s happy and settled, and really, what man could ask for more?

The best part of this Dean’s day, the best part of his whole life, is her. He’s known her for nearly three decades and loved her just as long. 

He was a twenty-year-old punk, learning his way through the art of motorcycles. He’d spent his life so far working on muscle cars, something he would never completely tire of, but now he was in absolute heaven. Dad’s buddy Danny Elkins had agreed to take Dean on, and Dean had taken to bikes like it was meant to be. 

Four months into his new life, Danny’s daughter brought her dad lunch, and, for the first time in his life, Dean wondered whether there might actually be a woman who could pull his attention from an engine for longer than a night or two. 

It was more or less instant attraction for the both of them, kinda like the movies that she loved to watch. Unlike those movies, however, there was no disapproving father to contend with or prove himself to.

“She’s a big girl and can crack your skull just as good as me,” he’d told Dean. “Pretty sure she’s settled on ya, so just make sure you’re worth it.”

So that’s what Dean did. 

Tonight’s dream finds the older Dean alone in the garage, and the sun is at the tail end of setting. Splashes of indigo and orange paint the horizon, framing her approach in a wash of colors blending into shadows that hold no danger.

“Figured you’d forget dinner tonight, what with your new toy. Thought we could share, and you could show me what you’ve been up to.” 

She doesn’t really care about the bikes, the cars, any of it. She only cares that it matters to him, and whatever keeps him running is something she wants to be a part of.

Surrounded by motorcycles in various states of repair and assembly, they speak quietly of their day, sharing the tiny details and separate moments that make up their simple life. She feeds him a bit of meatloaf with her fingers, and he eagerly returns the favor by sucking a smear of mashed potatoes from the corner of her mouth.

She sets the dinner containers aside, twisting to the side to reach for the apple cobbler she made yesterday, when he realizes he can’t stand even that bit of separation between. He’s been without her all day; that’s too much to ask of any man.

“C’mere,” he says.

Dessert forgotten, she settles astride his lap, arms linked around his neck, smiling that serene combination of lips and eyes and cheekbones that makes his heart twist and his groin swell same as the first time she turned them on him thirty-odd years ago. 

They’ve sat like this a thousand times, and he prays silently he’ll get at least a thousand more. When they were kids, crazy and hungry for every experience, she’d come into the garage in her little tank top, her tiny shorts showing off her new ink, heels fit to kill someone (how she never broke an ankle has always been a mystery and a miracle, in both Deans’ opinions).

She scrubs a thumb over his bearded jawline, humming deep in her chest. She’s swapped the tiny skirts for jeans, although he thanks his lucky stars every day that fashions have moved from bootcut back to skinny. Harder to get off quick, but damn does he love the lines of her legs in ‘em.

They press foreheads together as an old Traffic song plays over the radio, swaying gently, always in sync. 

“Dear Mr. Fantasy, play us a tune,” he half-whispers, half-sings, breath warm on her cool cheek.

“Something to make us all happy,” she answers in kind, eye closed. She slides her nose alongside his, runs her chin over his wiry beard, smiles into his kiss as it buffs her face red. 

Perhaps in remembrance of their long-past youth, she’s chosen her smallest tank-top, one she’d normally never wear without at least a button-up over it, and he drops his head to rub his cheeks over the bare skin over her collarbone. Her legs link behind his back, anchoring her as she leans back to allow him more access. 

God, what she can still do to him. The salt of her skin, the fragrance of her perfume that he picked out for her on their first anniversary that she’s worn religiously ever since, the silk of her hair that he tangles between fingers that still tremble with eager nerves.

Older Dean and worn-out, monster-plagued Dean sigh together, content down to their bones. This life is it for both of them. She is it. One Dean still can’t believe his amazing luck after all these years, and the other aches at the simple, total happiness he feels honored to witness.

“Dean.”

The older man runs a reverent hand down his wife’s arm, twining his fingers with hers. He kisses her knuckles, a few more crinkles lining his eyes as he smiles.

“Dean, wake up.”

The scene before him begins to fade as she takes his face between her hands, kisses his temples, the spot between his eyes, the corner of his mouth. For just a second, this Dean (the “real” Dean, as Chuck put it) feels those kisses, looks deep into her eyes and feels that warmth and light that she brings to the other man’s life. 

I love you, she whispers, and he allows himself to believe for one moment that she’s talking directly to him.

“Dean, come on, Cas has a lead.” Sam’s voice finally breaks the dream wide open, and Dean reluctantly opens his eyes. “We gotta go check it out. Get dressed.”

“Yeah.”

He sits up slowly, feeling each of his forty-one years with an ache that no longer surprises him. He swings his legs over the side of his bed, rests his elbows on his knees, and drops his face in his hands. If he concentrates hard enough, he can still feel her phantom caress, her thumb against his cheekbone, her lips on the corner of his.

I love you.

Dean scrubs at his face with hands that get a little older and a little more scarred every day. Warrior’s hands, a testament to his hunts and battles. If he squints a little (maybe he needs an eye exam, too) he can imagine they’re different sorts of scars: burns from hot engines, cuts and scrapes from tools and every-day hard work rather than knives and punches. 

He inhales, gathering strength, putting on his mental armor piece by piece. A knight, riding off to save the world from the devouring dragon. He reaches over and grabs his jeans, sliding them on and standing in a smooth motion that is accompanied by only one or two pops and cracks.

I love you.

Dean doesn’t know how this is all going to end. He knows how he won’t let it end: him against Sammy, to the death and all that biblical Cain and Abel crap. But beyond that, he’s going to fight to save his brother, all of his little patchwork family, because they’re all he has in this world. 

He wonders briefly if his other self’s wife exists in this world, or if she’s just an anomaly, a one-time figment of Chuck’s imagination. He’s pretty sure it’s the latter; a man can only get that lucky once in a thousand lifetimes, and that other Dean is that one in a thousand.

This Dean could search a lifetime and never find her. She’s already been found, and maybe, just maybe if he and Sam can get their act together and bring the final beatdown on Chuck in enough time, he can save her. He can’t have her, but he could save her world, leave her safe and happy with his other self.

“Let it be enough,” he says aloud, not sure if he’s coaxing himself or the universe. He says it again, one more time for luck. 

It has to be enough.

…

“Dear Mr. Fantasy” by Traffic

Dear Mister Fantasy, play us a tune,  Something to make us all happy. Do anything, take us out of this gloom.  Sing a song, play guitar,  Make it snappy.  You are the one who can make us all laugh,  But doing that you break out in tears.  Please don't be sad if it was a straight mind you had.  We wouldn't have known you all these years.