#a daily swig of strength

[kookslastbutton]

Love's Remedy ༓ jjk (m) l ch. II

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,783

Warnings: angry koo, jealous koo, gym rat koo, thicc thighs koo, protective koo, kook checks his abs out, koo gets in a physical fight with an aggressive jerk that involves punching, name-calling (half pint, hermit crab, b*tch, Bambi, honeysuckle, kookie), mention of blood (minor), jk is very cute and determined towards oc, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), oc has poor self-esteem, cussing, bit of crying...sorry lot of warnings this chapter

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: Yes, I'm aware this chapter is short, still Jungkook is shirtless in half of this and I am not sorry. This chapter also gets heavy but I hope you enjoy! 💞

<< ch. I ༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

A week passes since the frat party and Jungkook hears nothing from you. He's reluctant to accept that you've likely already deleted his number but why else would you be radio silent? Why would someone like you ever be interested in a shy little nerd like him?

He's disappointed but when he gave you his number, it's not like he was expecting anything in return.

Well, he can’t stay hung up on you forever—he'll give you one more week. In the meantime, it’s 5 p.m and he’s off to do his daily lifting at the gym. He read somewhere online that evening is better for building strength, and that is exactly what he intends to do.

With a basic black tank top and gym shorts on, Jungkook scans the expanse of the facility. The place isn’t too crowded being that it’s nearly dinner time but it’s still moderate. He’s hoping Jackson will join him soon, considering they’re buddies now because isn’t that what guy friends do? Workout together?

When he makes his way to the weight room he quickly finds it's packed with guys double his size. Half of them look like they're upperclassmen while the other half is split between first-years like him and a small handful of women. He sheepishly strolls over to an empty pull-up bar, deciding to start with chin lifts.

Jungkook sets his water bottle on the ground, reaches for the handle, and lifts his body up until his chin is level with the bar, legs swing in the air slightly. He then extends his arms back out. The burn in his biceps feels good. He repeats the motion a few more times but has to stop when he hits six.

He takes a big swig of his water, already sweating evident from the tank top sticking to his back. The coolness of the water helps but between his own sweat and the sweat of others around him, Jungkook is tempted to throw his shirt off. Most of the men in the room aren’t wearing any more than shorts anyway so why can’t he?

Jungkook grasps the edges of his tank, pulling it up a little. How did his abs look? Were they good enough to show off? He’s working out diligently since 14 but he was still on the smaller side compared to the rest of his peers.

The mirror to his left helps him get a better look so he shifts his body over. When he does he catches a slight glimpse of a familiar face in the top right corner. Jungkook instantly drops his shirt, whipping his head around.

What were you doing in the weight room? And with some buff guy twice his size closely behind you? All he’s doing is staring at your ass in those tight purple shorts which so happens to have a matching crop top.

Jungkook scowls at the sight.

When you take a seat at one of the bench presses a couple of feet away, his eyes widen. The guy you came with stands behind your head as you lean back. He helps you set the barbell. It’s too far for Jungkook to hear what he’s telling you but he’s convinced it’s nothing good. Whoever this guy is he won’t stop grinning, and you’re grinning back!

You said you don’t do relationships. You said you'd think about going out with him. You said a lot of things but here you are with some guy that looks an awful lot like a boyfriend, how disgusting…

Fuck it.

Jungkook turns his eyes away from you, yanks his tank off, and grabs the pull-up bar again. He’s gonna knock ten of these out in one set.

Shoulder-width apart, he keeps a steady pace though he makes sure to take deep breaths to prolong his stamina. His eyes fixate on the back wall of the weight room to avoid you and your supposedly new boo from getting in his head.

Apparently, you just didn’t want him. It’s fine. Jungkook exhales. It’s all fine.

After three sets of chin-ups, Jungkook releases himself from the bar to check his phone. He takes another glug of his water too.

Jackson: hey Kook, I was planning to join you at the gym today but I got my family in town tonight. Man, it’s only been a week….can you believe they’re here to visit already?

Jungkook: Wow, all I’ve gotten from my family is a short text saying good luck. They must miss you a lot but yeah, it’s no problem. We can work out another time?

Jackson: You got it bro. Thank you for understanding 🙏🏼 Also, there’s a second thing 😬

Jungkook: ??

Jackson: I might have told my parents about you so are you free to get lunch with us tomorrow? My parents want to meet you. Our treat.

Jungkook: Really? Okay yeah. I’d love to meet them. Time?

Jackson: We don’t know yet but likely 1pm if that’s okay?

Jungkook: Sure, I’ll just be studying so. Text me when you know.

Jackson: I will. How’s the gym?

Jungkook hovers his thumbs over the keyboard. When he glances up to think, he’s reminded of your lingering presence. You’re no longer bench pressing anymore but instead doing a set of bent-over dumbbell rolls. With the way you’re torso’s angled, anyone who’s anyone has a direct view of your rear end. Any decent person would pay it no mind but that same douchebag next to you keeps gawking.

“It’s not meant to be a fucking sex position,” Jungkook mutters and types out a response. “Fucker.”

He makes his way to the black punching bag on the other side of the room, passing a strong glare at that young man as he nears the two of you. He doesn’t know his name but he’d really like to go over there and knee him in the balls. His eyes flicker at you for a moment, so pretty.

“The hell are you staring at my girl for half-pint?” The man calls Jungkook out in an aggressive stance. “Keep your eyes in front before I fuck you up.”

Frazzled, Jungkook scurries to move past the both of you with his head down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything.” He doesn’t get three steps before a solid form blocks his path.

“Who are you apologizing to? Your feet? Look me in the damn eye when you talk to me.”

“Jun-ho stop,” you come up beside the man, tugging at his arm. He yanks himself out of the grasp, however, jolting your body back. You nearly lose your balance.

“I’m just trying to teach this little hermit crab what happens when you stare at another man’s woman, baby.”

Jungkook clenches his fists as you struggle to re-stabilize yourself. You should not be with this asshole. He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t deserve to be calling you his baby. Who the fuck does he think he is shoving a woman like that.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you spit. “I’m not your woman. Now leave Jungkook alone. He doesn’t need this.”

Jun-ho gives you a cocky smirk. “Oh? So he’s Jungkook huh? You know him too. You fucking him behind my back or something?” He takes a step towards you. Jungkook lunges forward seeing your obvious discomfort.

“Don’t touch her!” Jungkook stands between you and Jun-ho. He’s shaking so badly but he doesn’t budge. “Take another step and I’ll–I’ll–“

“You’ll pound me in the ground? You and what army? You can’t even talk.” He snorts and moves to toss Jungkook to the side. “Get out of my way.”

Jungkook feels the back of his neck heat with rage, his ears red and burning. There’s no way in hell he’s letting Jun-ho get to you.

“She told you to stop, so why don’t you just–fuck off!” Jungkook shoves Jun-ho back with as much force as he can. His body’s not built and his arm muscles aren’t as ripped but he’s got some big fucking thighs that manage to anchor him to the ground.

“You shit.” Jun-ho grits his teeth and punches Jungkook straight in the gut. Jungkook doubles over in agony. His hand clutches over his abdomen as he groans. You hurry in front of him but you’re thrown to the side by a pair of large hands. “Move bitch,” Jun-ho snaps, eyes bolstered on the smaller man.

“Hey, what the hell is going on over here?” The manager of the gym rushes over to the three of you. He grabs Jungkook and offers him support. “You can’t be doing this young man. You need to leave now.”

Jun-ho shakes his head. “Count yourself lucky this time Jungkook. Could have been a lot worse if it weren’t for this old man getting in the way.” He stares at the manager and then at you. “Come on __.”

“You’re fucking nuts if you think I’m coming with you. I’m staying with Jungkook.”

“No, you’re fucking not.” Jun-ho reaches for your arm until his head is knocked backward by a clean, punch to his jaw. “Fuck! You Fuck!” He holds his jaw, stumbling into a rack of dumbbells behind him.

Jungkook’s knuckles bleed as he holds his own wrist. He winces at the sharp throbbing and stinging from the punch. “Okay no more, no more,” the manager anxiously darts his eyes back and forth between him and Jun-ho. “I want you all out of my facility this instance.”

After being thrown out of the gym, Jungkook returns to his dorm room. He insists he takes care of his injury himself but it doesn’t sit well with you so you follow him.

“I’m so sorry about this Jungkook. Jun-ho’s a bastard.” You finish wrapping his knuckles in the elastic bandage then lean forward to place your hands on his shoulders. “Promise me you won’t ever do that again.”

Jungkook holds your pleading stare from his seated position. Your soft hands are simultaneously soothing and unsettling. He’s not mad at you for what happened at all. But seeing you with a jerk like Jun-ho when you rejected him, someone who’d never treat his girl like a piece of trash causes all kinds of knots inside him.

“You’re not going to see him again right? Because I can’t make that promise if you do.” His voice is low, nervous that you'll say yes.

Jungkook might not have personal relationship experience but he's witnessed his share of unhealthy relationship dynamics more times he'd like to count.

“Jungkook…” You muster up the best reassuring smile you can and tuck a few loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Nothing's going to happen between me and Jun-ho anymore. We weren't anything serious. But you care too much about me, I’m not worth the trouble.”

Hearing this, he reaches a hand up to close over yours. “Please don’t say that. Everyone deserves to be cared for and as long as I can help it, I’ll be the first to do it.” His big, doting eyes search into yours. "And good, don't go back to him __. He's not the type of man you need."

"And what type of man do I need Bambi?" You stroke his puffy cheeks and quirk your head to the side inquisitively. Jungkook flinches at the touch.

"Bambi?"

"You didn't like it when I called you baby so, had to come up with something else."

"But." There's that pout again. Jungkook doesn't like being called a baby but when someone reaching this level of adorable, its so hard to shake. "But I just knocked a bitch out for you. How can you keep calling me baby names?"

The chuckle that leaves your lips is heaven to Jungkook's ears. "Aww Jungkook," you coo. "It's 'cause you're a little honeysuckle. So sweet to the taste." His ears perk up at that, gnawing on his bottom lip. "But if you want me to call you something else that might take some more time for me to figure out. Until then do tell me, what do I need?"

"Someone that'll protect you."

"Mhm, okay but—"

"Emotionally, physically, and mentally." Jungkook lists out loud. "That means someone to stand up for you, support you in the ways you need. Someone to help keep losers like Jun-ho out who only look out for themselves." He pauses, contemplating thoughtfully. "You need someone you can trust too. When you're sick you'll be taken care of and he'll never ever cheat on you. Even if you fight, he'll always stick by your side. You'll watch movies together, cuddle under the covers, and stargaze on summer nights. He'll also peel perilla leaves for you and love you until sunrise. Finally, when the time's right he'll ask to marry you, only if you want, of course."

Jungkook waits for you to give him a reply, a little breathless. He notices the distance between you and him somehow got larger. You're now about two feet away from him when you were only mere inches before.

"I'm sorry." He lowers his head. "It's silly I know. Everyone tells me I'm some kind of dreamer boy, just a hopeless romantic."

"It's not silly Jungkook." You soften your expression. "It's a beautiful idea and somewhere out there will gladly share those things with you. You'll live a full life together having all those wonderful experiences."

"Wanna have them with you though." His eyes flicker up at you. "I really like you __."

Oh no, no no no. You push down the pressure building from inside you. "No, I can't. I'm sorry Bambi, I want to but you don't know me." A small tear spills out of the corner of your eye. "I'm not able to....I can't love you like that."

Jungkook gets up from his chair and reaches for your trembling hand. You're tempted to pull back if it weren't for the fact that your hand feels warm in his.

"I can," he says. "I can love you if you let me."

You shake your head, and another hot tear rolls down your face. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm even crying." You quickly wipe your wet cheeks.

"You don't always need a reason. Sometimes it just happens and that's okay. I cry all the time when I'm by myself." Jungkook grabs your other hand slowly. "Just wanna be here for you."

You blink back the remaining tears welling in your eyes. You're embarrassed this is happening at all. Jungkook is the sweetest, most kind-hearted, and most selfless person you know. He shouldn't have to be dealing with any of this.

"If we can't go out, is it okay that we are friends?"

"I don't want to do that to you Kookie."

"Hey, I like that one," he says with a lifted voice.

"You do? I didn't even think about it like the others."

"You were thinking about me?" He bounces in the air a little, at least that's what it looks like to you by the sudden rush of energy Jungkook responds with. He likes knowing you've been paying attention to him, even if only a smidge.

You dart your eyes past him, fingers curling in his hand. "Well I mean..." Jungkook waits intently. "I guess...yes, some."

"Oh please __, please let me take you out. We don't even have to call it a date."

"You're too persistent, you know that?"

"But is it working?"

"I'm not ready yet Jungkook." His shoulders slouch and he opens his mouth to say something though you continue before he can get anything out. "To give you an answer. I'm not ready to give you an answer yet is what I'm trying to say."

"Well, that's okay. You wanna think about it longer? We can four years until graduation."

"You're such a goof, you'd wait that long for an answer?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "No, I'd wait that long for you." He pauses. "Okay maybe I have been watching one too many Korean dramas. Even I threw up in my mouth a little."

Too both share a laugh, this is the weirdest, emotionally exhausting day ever. "Thank you for what you did today with Jung-ho. And for trying to comfort me. Will you possibly be able to wait another week? If it's too long you can tell me. I've made you wait long enough."

"A week from now, let's meet up okay? Or call at least. Even if it's a no, I don't want this to be the last time I get to see or hear you."

"Okay." You nod. "I promise."

And that was the end of that night, as Jungkook walks you to your dorm soon after. It was getting dark out after all.

A/N: tysm for reading! Lmk what you think and if you wan to be tagged comment/ask 💞

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[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

I'll Think Of You

Fic number 3! And it's actually a Narcos fic @narcosfandomdiscord

Have fun with our favourite guy, aka "some guy", aka "my guy", aka "Walt Breslin" >:D

Prompt #25, Book Of Reciprocity: "Fine, I'll do it myself."

Word Count: 1.3K

Relationships: Mimi/Pablo Acosta, Walt Breslin & Pablo Acosta

Warnings: Mentioned character death, mentioned drug use (as per canon)

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

Fuck it . 

It’s a thought that Walt Breslin thinks on a daily basis. 

With Operation Leyenda well and truly over, Walt and his crew had to switch tactics, not without people like Ed Heath towering over them. 

Better yet, fucking asshole Calderoni lurks, with his helpful information at one point, and heavy insults at others. 

This team of theirs, a real ragtag bunch, can only do so much. 

Breslin inquires, one day, if his team has the strength to go on. He gives them all permission to leave: Some have better jobs than this to pursue, others are husbands, and fathers of little boys and girls. 

He gives them an exit route, a free pass outta town. 

Determination rouses inside him when none of them refuse. 

They’ll work, side by side, till the break of dawn, till the end of the day– If it means avenging Kiki Camarena, if it means bringing justice to his name! 

That’s all that matters. 

He’ll defy anyone that stands in his way. Well, as much as he can do so. 

And there comes a point where he’s the one making negotiations, compromises with a side that should be wrong. In all truth, the people he’s speaking to… They’re saner than he expected, especially for their profession. 

Before he leaves to meet them, he tells his team, “This one, I’m doing by myself.” 

He says it again, in a different way, when they don’t get the message. 

“Guys, look, I get it. I’m the leader here. But, damn that! I can only take you so far… You’re angry about it, yes, but let me go. I’ve got the information, the equipment, the leads– Now you’re angry at me. Got it. Fine, I’ll do it myself! You guys stick around, do what you can with what you know, and occupy the ground over here.” 

Because this mission is a suicide mission, basically. 

The rest of the special agents can know he’s out there, Walt Breslin’s on the case, he’s doing something , some solo mission. 

As he drives to Ojinaga, a heaviness settles in his gut. He is both free and chained, maddened and rational. 

His heart flutters when he spots a girl, tall, blonde and beautiful, standing around a house. She points upwards, and that’s when Walt is taken off-guard. 

Pablo Acosta, drug lord, cartel king, working on a roof. 

Fuck it , He thinks, once again, Whatever it takes to get him on-side. 

 

***

Pablo asks him to bring up a toolbox, and Walt Breslin can only oblige. 

They start talking about life, about change and simple things.  

There comes a point where Acosta pauses and cracks the toolbox open. He shuffles about, as though planning which tool to grab, when, in fact, there are no tools whatsoever. Just beer, bottles and bottles of it. 

It’s the American’s sign that he can relax, fortunately enough. 

“Do you drink?” He asks, a bottle outstretched in one hand. 

“Fuck, yeah, I do,” Walt replies, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, “As much as I can handle.” 

They clink bottles in acknowledgement and take long, slow sips. They relish the refreshing taste in the dry heat, the bitterness that sinks into their throats. 

“Hey, look, I can get you immunity, protection,” The DEA agent offers, “Whatever you need. As long as you cross that border with me, and tell me everything you know about Felix. Felix Gallardo. ” He clarifies, “I’m lookin’ to take him down.” 

“Why’s that? Who’s Felix to you?” 

Walt takes a swig of his beer and sighs, his eyes fixed on Acosta’s, “He killed a federal agent. Camarena, his name was. He was diligent, so I’ve heard, and he didn’t deserve what he got. So… This is to avenge him, I guess.” 

“So you’ve heard?” The other smiles, tilting his hat, “So you guess? Did you ever know him, Camarena, the agent that died?” 

As a DEA agent, he feels like he should’ve, but they weren’t in the same place, the same sector. Kiki was working for longer hours, harder than he ever could’ve… But he didn’t know the man. Not personally. He never got the time, had the connections, to find out who he really was, if he had a family, what he liked in the world… 

Pablo Acosta seems to appreciate the simple things. And if Pablo Acosta had met Kiki Camarena, maybe, pushing all the drugs and crime aside, they would have got along splendidly.

All Walt can do is shake his head, rather sadly. 

“You didn’t even know him…” Acosta tuts, as though to place blame on Walt. “And I get it, comrades, partners… You trust people who work the same way as you. I can’t do that anymore. All I can trust is Mimi,” He gestures to the girl with fondness, “Or, maybe you.” 

“You should trust me,” The DEA agent huffs, crossing his arms, “I’m trying to help you, here… As long as you help me back.” 

“I don’t know where I fit in anymore,” He segues, “There’s… A different feeling here, with the drug now, cocaine, the Colombians, fucking politicians… Everything is crazy. So, I might just settle down.” 

“Settle down across the border.” He pleads, “Help me out here.” 

Acosta stands up, drinks some beer, wanders around the roof aimlessly. Even while Breslin is angry, a part of him worries about the guy crashing and falling. 

He exhales and turns back to face the American, glad to occupy the higher ground. “I can’t help you out without knowing who you are. Don’t start… Listing bullshit things. What are you really doing here? That agent is long gone.” 

Fuck. Walt thinks, cracking his knuckles just to hear the sound. 

The thought is not fuck it , as it should normally be, but instead, total despair. A rock bottom. A weird type of guilt and defeat and admission that he absolutely hates! 

And to share it with a former drug lord? Dear god, did things really have to come to this? 

I could lie. He muses, staring at the surface below him, pondering, I could lie and cheat and steal to get him to trust me. It’s not beyond the cartels, and it’s not beyond me, is it?  

‘Don’t start listing bullshit things.’ 

Acosta seems like the type of guy to have a lie detector built into his body. 

So, Walt looks at him, squints, thanks to the sunlight, and goes for broke. 

“Three years ago, I was at home,” He begins, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “And I was working a shift, everything’s cruisy. That’s when I get a call, for a one-eighteen, a gang-related shooting. But if it was located in the town over, why should I be called?!” 

Acosta just shrugs: A simple signal. He doesn’t know the story, so Breslin must tell it. 

“If I was called, I had to go… And I knew from that point forward that something was wrong. My brother was involved. Not just that,” A wobble emerges in his voice, “ My brother had died. Three shots to the chest, with an eight-ball of cocaine by his side.” 

Walt wipes a hand at his face. He’s vulnerable, he’s scared, and he’s not about to start crying in front of Pablo Acosta. 

He finishes his tale with his voice at a mere whisper, “So… Yeah. That’s why I’m here. ” 

When the drug lord sits down and lets out a slow exhale, he knows. The story, the truth, the emotions… They’ve all hit in just the right places. 

And Walt Breslin can be proud of that. Proud for telling the truth, proud for negotiating in a way that doesn’t involve trickery… 

Because Pablo Acosta reveals, just minutes before the DEA agent climbs down to the ground, that his brother was a junkie too. 

[thoughtsandbones]

An ex-citing surprise

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc OC (codename: Blue) 💀💙

WARNINGS: Mention of profanity, self harm scars, scars, fluff, panic attack, anxiety, medical inaccuracies and just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace.

Plot: Doctor Ruhari Hari Kaur (OC is South Asian ☺️) joins the 141 again, but this time as their doctor. After the betrayal of Shepherd and Graves, Task Force 141 begins their hunt on his whereabouts and locating Makarov.

PLEASE reblog and like! Hope folks are enjoying the series, I am building up characters and plots, cos I have a lot ideas and just been enjoying writing :D

Song inspo: Bleed it Out - Linkin Park, Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: Flashbacks are getting messed up when I am indenting them and I am getting lots of errors when publishing the work, please bare with some mistakes and spelling issues.

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline... (Also I'm ignoring the OG Shepherd betrayal and keeping in line the one with the new timeline..)

All rights reserved to the rightful owners of Call of Duty Modern Warfare.

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic! :D

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11 and PART 12

Part 13

The birds had begun chirping, greeting the new day. The sun soon started to it's daily early ascent into glorious England in June.

Pollen is going to be high, hay fever season descends upon us all. You think to yourself, grabbing your phone and adding 'hay fever szn' to your adding list of things to be on the look out for whilst being the 141's doctor... and... team member?

Try not to push it, I gotta earn that spot You scold yourself, hitting your head against the pillow underneath; a soft beating.

You had been laying awake for about 20 minutes. Checking the time on your phone, 4:34am.

Might as well get started on the day

Rolling out of bed you then start with the first task, making the bed. A good soldier keeps things neat and tidy. The next task, shower. A cold shower to awaken your nerves.

Once you had showered, gotten ready, braided your long hair first into two french braids and then tying the two together with an hair band, you then had several swigs from your flask. hydrate hydrate hydrate

It was 5:39am, you leave your room and lock your door. You make your way down the stairs at a quick pace, you were nearly at the bottom, only to see the lieutenant descending down the last few steps.

Ghost turned around has heard the quickening steps approach from behind him. It was you, donning black fatigues, green top and black combat boots.

"Mornin' Doc" He said stepping aside to let you come down the final steps

"Morning Sir" You say "How are you?" He was donning his skull balaclava again today, his eyes covered with black paint.

"Good, slept well" He said, who started to walk out of the corridor of the building.

"The medicine worked, that's nice to hear" You respond "Any drowsiness currently?" You

Ghost looks down at you as you walk beside him. It knocked him out that he felt a little cautious

"Nothin' apart from the metallic taste" He replied

You nod "Squash will help"

Ghost nods back, he holds the door open for you and lets you walk ahead, his eyes linger over your back again, the tattoo of yours catching his eye again.

Get it together he snaps

"Trainin' this mornin', 10 minute sprint, basic strength assessment and maybe a bit of sniper trainin'" He says, hoping that'll perk you up a bit.

A smirk appears on your face. "Where do I sprint?" You ask

"On track, I'll time you" He brings out a stop watch that was wrapped around a small burgundy journal. Both of you head of the track, Ghost counts you down and you set off, Ghost keeps his eye on you, your form then glances to his stop watch. As you approach he watches your stern face focused on what is in front of you.

After ten minutes, he blows a whistle and you stop. He walks over to you and hands you your flask. You take a few sips, slowly catch your breathe.

Walking over to the gym, Ghost runs through the tests he wanted you to complete. The gym was partly empty, there were a few soldiers, mainly marines who were up and training, but most of them were commanders as they nodded and saluted Ghost. Ghost nodded back. You were struck with awe of the respect and reputation he garnered, along with Captain Price too.

First assessment was chin ups, how many can you do? Ghost had said to you.

You're gonna be so weak, taking in a deep inhale, you reach for the bar and using your core and arms you pull up, exhale, you felt your arms wobble. Eyes flickering over to Ghost who just held out his stopwatch and then glared at you hanging, feeling your face going red. You try again, and only managed 3 chin ups in total. Feeling so weak, you continue with the next set of commands given out by Ghost.

Ghost watched you struggle lifting the 5kg plate over your head, your legs shaking, knees locking every now and then and arms shaking.

In his notebook he scribbled lacking core strength amongst his other critiques. A small part of him felt he was being harsh, but he knew he had to treat you fairly, like everyone else. Especially since you were going to be coming along with missions so dangerous, he had to make sure you could handle yourself.

"Alrigh' that'll do" He says and watches you bring the weight plate down gently and placing it back where it came from. He sees you take a long swig of water, some of drips down your chin and splashes on your shirt on near your breast. Ghost scans your physique, you were fit, but clearly lackin' in strength.

His eyes go back to the dark patch made by the water droplet, just above your right breast... His eyes lingered too long, when he noticed your eyes narrowing at him, he flicked his eyes back to his notebook, feeling his cheeks become warm and blood rush to his ears. Focus

Is he actually staring at my boobs You think, glaring at him. But then you notice the wet patch on your shirt. That? Or the boobs?

"You were alrigh'" He said clearing his throat "Need work on strength trainin', what exercised you normally do?"

"Running, swimming and Taekwondo" You say. "But it's been a few months since I've done swimming and Taekwondo"

"Righ'" Ghost says, vaguely remembering you doing some sort of martial arts. His memories of you were so misplaced and broken.

"I'll work out a trainin' schedule for you" He adds "We got some martial arts classes, may want to join? After this mission we'll assess sparring" He continues

"Yes sir" You say taking in his assessment of you. Dammnit, you were weak, but there's always room to improve

"Sniper practise next" Ghost says and he walks in front of your to the practise shooting range. Ghost gets a sniper rifle and ammunition and hands it to you.

You head over to a spot and set yourself up. Out of all the guns you tried and used, sniper rifles were your favourite. After setting up, Ghost presses a remote with buttons on it, targets come up and you shoot them down. When reloading, you kept your eye in the scope as you reloaded your magazine.

Very well remembered Ghost thought

Soap had entered the shooting range, he saw Ghost who turned to look at him and nodded and turned back to someone who was shooting. Soap realised it was you. He walked to Ghost and stood by him as he also watched you.

"She's good" Soap says to Ghost

"Gettin' there" Ghost replies trying not to feed into Soap's eagerness

You've ran out of ammo, the targets were shot down. You get back up taking the sniper rile and empty magazines. Checking your watch, it was nearing 8am and you had to go to the infirmary soon, after another shower and changing. And breakfast of course.

"Morning Doc" Soap says

"Morning Soap" You say "You good?"

"Aye, all dandy here" He says smiling at you giving you that same grin when he caught you staring at his naked torso. You look away

Ghost felt stuck in between you and Soap. Soap was grinning like a fox at you and you were staring wide-eyed at the sniper rifle drumming you fingers against the barrel.

"I'm going to go clean this" You say lifting the rifle briefly and walking away.

Soap chuckles and looks at you as you walk away. Ghost figured out he was still teasing.

"What you doin' here Johnny?" Ghost grumbled

"Came to see how our new team member was doin'" Soap quirked, giving Ghost a grin.

Ghost scoffed at him. He looked over and saw you sat down on the benches, cleaning the rifle, like it was something you did everyday.

Soap came closer to him.

"You tell her yet Lt?" Soap whispered.

Ghost glared back down at Soap. Did Price rope him into this now?

"C'mon Lt, you can't leave it til it's too late" Soap said giving Ghost a pat on the arm.

"It's bit complicated Johnny" Ghost said, lowering his tone

"Maybe she needs some good news after Siberia eh?" Soap whispered quickly to Ghost

Looking at Johnny and taking in what he said, he became slightly agitated.

"Take my advice Lt" Soap said finally and patted him on the shoulder and went to the weapons locker to grab a gun for his own practise shooting.

Ghost walked over to you, focused on cleaning each part of the gun thoroughly, he watched your hands use the tools, cleaning each part of the rifle carefully.

"Good effort today Doc" He said finally, you look up and smile

"Just need to work on getting better sir" You say looking back down at the barrel in your hands, polishing it with your cloth.

"I'll email over a schedule before the mission tomorrow" He said

"Thank you sir" You focus remained on the gun.

Ghost felt his right hand twitch, his arm trying to move up to his head. He fought off the urge to try and reveal himself here...

The sudden click of you sliding the barrel back brought him back to reality. He was drawn to your gaze, you look back down at the reassembled sniper rifle.

"I'll be heading back if that's good sir?" You ask

"'Course Doc" He replied and watched you get back up, sliding the sniper rifle over your shoulder, it was a motion you did so casually, you've done it before. You've been here before.

"Come by between 10-12 for your blood pressure check lieutenant" You said, trying not to sound too commanding.

"Yes Doc" He says, he gets up and looks down at you stepping back as you walk to put the rifle away. He sees Soap grin at you again as you leave.

Ghost looks back down at his notebook in his hand and opens it up scanning the list of things he noticed you lacked and needed improvement on.

Soap comes over to him after shooting a few rounds.

"What's goin' on between those gears Lt?" Soap says sitting on the bench.

Ghost backed up a bit.

"Nothin' Johnny" he grunted to which Soap gave him a look that called his bluff and scoffed.

"Yer right" Soap responded "C'mon Lt, what's the worse that can happen?" he added extending his leg to attempting to tap Ghost, but he moved away and sat on the bench opposite Soap and looked around, no one was within earshot.

Soap watched has Ghost scanned with his painted blue eyes the area around him.

"What if she goes-" He trails off and then looks directly at Soap "-gets angry? he finishes

"I doubt it Lt" Soap begins, leaning closer to him "You have yer reasons Simon, she a nice lass, she'll understand" He added smiling towards him, Soap noticed Ghost narrow his eyes and scoffed slightly.

It was the first time in a long time that someone other than Price said his name. He hung his head down briefly and then looked up.

"One can hope eh Johnny?" Ghost responded "We got stuff to do before we leave tomorrow, need to see Doc about somethin' at 11, let's get movin' then" He added getting up, Soap follows him as they leave.

Mean while in the infirmary

It was 9:30am and you sat at your desk unsure of what next to do. Reports were done so far for the team, it's not like you could have a proper in-depth review with them the day before a crucial mission.

'Hey, mind if I draw some blood to further analyse if you have any health issues which seem super trivial to you?' You mutter to yourself in a high-pitched mocking tone. As you twirl yourself around in the chair.

The was a rapid knock on your door, you stopped the spinning motion with your left food and quickly got up and opened the door.

It was Price

"Mornin' Hari" He said smiling

"Morning Captain" You say, moving away from the doorway and letting him walk in, you close the door

"How was training with lieutenant Ghost?" Price said turning back to you, watching as you take your seat and Price sits on the other side of the desk.

"Good, well- don't think I did well in the fitness assessment bit" You sigh leaning back in your chair, but then straightened up a bit, not sure how casual you could be...

"Always room for improvement" Price said chuckling leaning forward.

You sense that Price had an ulterior motive, Siberia...

"Are you here to ask about Siberia sir?" You ask, getting straight to the point, tilting your head back

"Came to ask how would you feel about going back?" Price said, also cutting to the chase. "Laswell wants us to do a recovery mission" He adds

"Shouldn't we be more concerned with tomorrow's mission Cap?" You retort

Going back huh? You wonder

Price leans back, smiling slightly.

"Of course, but you up for it?" Price asks again

"Once you and lieutenant Ghost are happy with my training, then yes." You say bluntly. You weren't going back unless you were at a competent level of being able to look after yourself in that harsh environment again.

"That's the plan" Price chuffed, his objective completed with ease.

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" You ask "Or is that classified?" you added smirking slightly

"4am" Price said looking out the window, blue skies over base, the distant fields feeling

"Come by my office this evening at 6, we're havin' a pre-mission gathering, tea and biscuits" Price chuffed looking back at you.

"Of course sir" You nod back at him smiling.

After a brief conversation of mission details and what your job was (standby during end of mission for injuries during when they are RTB) Price left the infirmary leaving you alone again. You checked the reports on your laptop again. You click onto Ghost's report.

Much of his personal information was redacted. But you knew his age was 34, which meant he was born in 1988. You hesitated putting this information into the report. Price had told you that Ghost's identity is a secret for a reason.

You went through the other reports for Gaz, Soap and Price. Adding in your notebook things you needed to do, blood tests was one thing.

Sitting back in your chair again, you spin around, enjoying the motion tilting your head back. You stop and then go back to your laptop, after placing an order through the RAMC pharmacy for more hay fever tablets, you lean back in the chair again.

Siberia. Siberia. Your mind wonders back the frozen place.

"Get the disk and get out Blue" echos in your head again, you shake your head and run your left hand through your hair. It was still braided, bringing your right hand up, unravelling both braids, you comb your hair roughly with your hands.

There was a knock at the door, you couldn't be bothered to get up so you simply shouted 'Come in' to the person on the other side. You looked up and saw Ghost opening the door, his entire stature taking up the doorway.

"Alrigh' Doc?" He lets out, breathing heavily, almost like he ran up here.

"I'm good, you okay?" You ask curiously looking at him as you observe his chest heaving.

"Yeah, just jogged here" He said leaning on the med bed whilst you remained seated.

"You can sit back on the bed if you need a breather sir" You suggest

Ghost looks up you, trying to catch his breathe. He doesn't move, continuing to lean slightly back on the bed behind him. It was the nerves and the damn talking Soap was doing whilst they checked their equipment that got him rattled, and you. He felt his chest get tighter, he breathed in but the air didn't help, he could feel his hands tremble against the cold railing. He turned around facing away from you.

You noticed the change in his body straight away, you got up and moved closer to him.

"Lieutenant what's wrong?" You ask, you grab your stethoscope, as you get closer Ghost moves further away, grabbing the railing of the bed for support, his legs tremble. You watch carefully has be bends over, his right hand moving, clutching his chest.

"Let me just che-" You move to him grabbing his shoulder with your left hand but his right hand quickly grabs it, pulling you away from him, his hold on your arm becomes tight, you feel like he was trying to crush the bones within. You didn't wince at the pain.

"Get away" He rasps head bent down trying to control his breathing, pins and needles running up his legs. He could feel the bone beneath as he gripped your flesh.

You narrow your eyes, you stay in the same place, planting your feet on ground, unsure if he was going to swing at you...

"Do you have pain in your left arm?" You ask, his grip on your arms loosens, you pull it back, the gripping sensation tingling lingers.

"No" Ghost let out. "Jus-t- pani-c att-ack" he stifles, struggling to get the actual words out, bending further over the med bed.

You move behind, a few paces back giving him room to move.

"Get up on the bed sir" You say

"Can't legs froz'n" He spat, just then he grabbed the curtain with his left hand and tried to pull it around him, but it only moved slightly. You wanted to laugh at the attempt, but taking it as a sign that he wanted a bit of privacy, you walk over and close the curtain surrounding the bed, Ghost watches, he tilts his head to the side, there's a small gap left and you turn, your back now facing him again.

"I'm going to walk you through what to do sir" You start, standing behind the curtain.

"Okay" He rasps again watching your back from the corner of his eyes.

"Breathe in through your nose for four and hold for four" You add, loudly breathing in from your own nose, hoping he'll follow.

Ghost yanks up his mask and follows, breathing in steadily through the nose, holding for four, and then back out slowly for four. He listens as you do the same.

"Close your eyes and focus on breathing in and out for four" You say calmly, demonstrating by loudly breathing in again.

Ghost closes his eyes, and breathes in for four. He could feel his heart slow down, the pain in his chest subdue. He looks back at you, still there with your back turned, but then you walk away.

No He thought Don't leave me like this

He hears you walk around the infirmary, then the bubbling of the water cooler, and your footsteps approach. He turns, mask half up still, he felt his heart stumble. Through the gap of the curtain comes your arm, your hand holding a cup of water. He felt a warm iciness shred through him.

"Here, take slow sips" You say.

Ghost reaches out and takes the cup, moving closer to the curtain, where you stood on the other side. He takes a small sip from the cup, letting the water pass down him, whilst moving his feet slightly.

You could hear him take small sips, struggling a bit between to take calm breathes. In these situations saying things like don't worry and think happy thoughts felt useless. What personally helped was taking back control of one thing that one thing that makes us

"Need more water?" You ask through the curtain

Through the gap, Ghost's arm appeared, his bare hand holding the empty cup. You take it from him and refilling it and then head back, you put your hand through the gap, this time peaking inside.

You see Ghost standing, leaning back against the med bed. With a quick glance to his face, his fingers were rubbing against bare nose, there was a bit of black paint on his pointed and sharp nose, glancing down at the stubble lining his jaw, you spot the mole on his jugular. His eyes dart to yours and quickly pulls his mask down walking towards your outstretched left arm.

Ghost takes the cup from your grasp with his left hand, with his right he gently takes ahold of your arm. You try to retract your arm, but Ghost lightly grips the same spot, you wince slightly this time.

"I need to check you lieutenant" You slyly say looking at him, he looks back and doesn't respond, just giving you daggers with his blue eyes.

Setting the cup on the empty spot of the tray he lifts the sleeve of your white coat. He sees his red handprint on the top of your forearm, his turns your arm over, on the other side he sees white horizontal scars faintly scattered on your arm, his also sees his fingers marked in red. It'll form into a bruise he thought

Guilt was riling up in him again. He looked up at you, remaining stoic.

"It just needs some ice, not even that" You pulling your hand back to you. Ghost watches as you pull away from him, no anger coming from you, you smile slightly at him.

"You feeling okay?" You ask, face now shifting to concern.

"Alrigh'" He grumbled. He couldn't get the words out to say his was sorry. He couldn't get the words out that said sorry for grabbing you. He was at a loss when he was with you.

You pull back the curtain and you watch as Ghost sits up on the bed, taking his black sweater off, revealing a think black t-shirt. You could see the outline of his shoulder muscles and the name tags underneath the thin black layer.

"Check you blood pressure then if it's okay to check your heart and breathing?" you say motioning with to your stethoscope around your neck.

"Yeah" Ghost says as you bring the blood pressure machine next to him. As you wrap the cuff around this left arm your cold hand brushes against his skin.

Taking the reading again, 132/80.

You frown and look up at him.

"Still high then?" He asks looking at you and then at the flashing numbers

"Given you had a panic attack, there would be a spike in blood pressure" You say "But it's lower than yesterday" You add smiling at him.

Ghost watches as you get up head to your desk, writing in on a post it and then sticking it in your journal.

"I'm sorry doc" Ghost said "Abou' your arm, didn' mean to hurt you" he added looking at you as you look up.

"Don't worry, it's not broken" You say smiling. You look at Ghost and he looks back down, his shoulders hunched over

Perhaps some tea will help? You wonder

"Would you fanc-" You start, Ghost looks up at you as you begin to ask him something, but there was loud knocking on the door both of you look at the door, you roll your eyes and get off the chair.

"Just a minute" You call out looking at the door and then back at Ghost.

"I should get goin'" He said, putting his sweater on and getting up from the med bed. He looks over at you, your mouth open, as if you wanted to say something, but the person behind the door was knocking again.

"Wait one sec" You say then scrunching your face towards the door, you open the door and there stood a tall blonde haired woman wearing the same blue scrubs and white coat. Looking at the face of the woman standing in front of you your jaw dropped.

"Hey girly girl!" The woman said, slight Texan accent, brightly smiling and shaking her blonde hair that reached the edge of her jaw.

Your ex.

"What the fuck" You exclaim loudly

Ghost was surprised by the harshness in which you swore. He took a step forward to see who was at the door. A woman with blonde hair wearing the same clothes as you. His eyes met hers. She looked at him and smiled.

"Sorry, I'll come back later Ru" She said smiling at you and then at Ghost

"Dr Marie, it's Dr Kaur" You snap

"Dr Marie?!" She snorts "Jeez I'm your ex not your oncologist" She laughs

Ghost took in the words your ex...

This is her... He thinks scanning her

"Not now Peyton, I'm working" You snap back shoving her away from the door with your hands. Peyton laughs and walks away as you close the door. You lean back against the door sighing, hitting your head against the door.

"That is.." Ghost starts looking at you, crossing his arms across his chest.

"The succubus that is my ex" You say meeting your eyes with his.

He tried to suppress a snort. But ended doing snort/scoff out of his nose. He walks closer to you.

"Guessin' you didn't know she works here?" He asks only a few steps away from you now

"Knew she worked with RAMC, but didn't know it was this base" You say bitterly scrunching your nose whilst looking at Ghost.

"Hmm" Ghost said, continuing to look down at you.

You move aside and open the door slightly, allowing the lieutenant to leave. But he doesn't move. You close the door again, savouring the moment between the two of you.

"Sure it ain't broken" he says motioning towards your arm. You look back him, bringing your left arm and give him a jazz hand.

"It'll just bruise" You say "Don't worry about it" You add smiling at him.

He looks down cautiously at you. He hurt you and you are trying to be brave about it.

"Ain't lyin' to me doc?" He asks, stepping closer to you, towering over you.

You straighten up, lifting your head up curtly and tilting it to the side.

"No, but you owe me cup of tea" You say smirking testing the ground, trying to be playful with him.

"Owe you a Yorkshire Tea" He says nodding at you, Ghost heads to the door and you open it for him, watching as you smile at him. Leaving the infirmary he watches as you close the door.

Down the corridor he sees the same blonde woman, leaning against the door of your quarters. She looks at him and gets up walking up to him.

"She free now?" She asks him pointing to the door of the infirmary

"Yeah" Ghost grunts, looking down at the woman in front, she had a grin like a cheshire cat on her face.

"Wonderful" She grins, her blue eyes boring into his, he watches as she opens the door and walks in

"Oh piss off-" You moan aloud from the inside and then the door closes, Ghost walks closer to the door trying to listen in. All he could hear was muffled bickering and then some laughing. He sighed and walked away.

He walked down to his room and let himself in. Looking down at his right hand, he gripped it tightly.

How fuckin' stupid was I to grab her he scolded to himself kicking the leg of his desk as he walked to the bathroom.

But what was more interesting was the return of your ex. Ghost takes off his mask and looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, then grabs his bar of soap.

Soap'll be happy to hear about this He thinks to himself as he washes off the black paint off his eyes. Simon then dried his face, and put a bit of moisturiser on and headed to his bed where he laid down.

Looks like I have a bit of competition Simon thought to himself and then sunk his head in the pillow.

[lostbottlesintheocean]

You can't let your failures define you. You have to let your failures teach you.

Barack Obama

[gamergirl929]

Expecto Patronum (Hermione Granger x Reader)

After following a number of Gryffindor students sneaking out of the Common Room one night, you inevitably stumble upon the DA and are quick to join their cause. 

However, you soon find a spell you can’t quiet master, a spell that requires something that you don’t have, something that, with the help of Hermione Granger, you’re able to acquire. 

“Bloody hell.” You mumble, sighing in exasperation as you flop to the Room of Requirement’s floor, your eyes narrowed.  

You stumbled upon Dumbledore’s Army by chance one night when you saw a number of Gryffindor's sneaking out one night and decided to follow. 

Following them was the best decision you’d ever made, because it brought you purpose, something you felt you lacked in your daily life.  

You were rather quiet, though you’d caught one member of the DA’s attention, and that member was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived himself.  

You hadn’t had the best upbringing, something the two of you shared, and something that brought the two of you closer together.  

Soon you and the boy were good friends, and being good friends with Harry meant you were friends with his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.  

Ron was goofy, a bit dense at time, but he was fun to be around, and that was enough for you.  

Hermione Granger on the other hand, was one of the brightest women you’d ever met, she adept at magic, excelling well above you and the others in the DA. 

She was all too happy to aid you in casting certain spells when she saw you were struggling.  

The specific spell you were currently having trouble casting, was Expecto Patronum, your Patronus refusing to take form no matter how hard you tried. 

You huff, dropping your wand to the stone floor.  

“This is hopeless.”  

                                                          ***

The following morning you’re barely able to keep your eyes, rubbing the heels of your palms into your bloodshot Y/E/C eyes.  

“You look right knackered.”  

You pick your head up, smiling when Ron takes a seat across from you at The Great Hall.  

“You alright?” Harry asks, worried and you nod.  

“Just didn’t sleep much.”  

“Or at all.” Hermione says as she takes a seat beside you and you shake your head, your cheeks flushing.  

“N-N-No, just didn’t get enough.”  

Hermione stares at you inquisitively, her brown orbs narrowed.  

You knew she knew you were lying, but you’d decided to keep up the ruse anyway.  

“So, r-ready for Potions today?” You ask, taking a swig of your Pumpkin Juice and Ron scoffs.  

“Who’s ever ready for Potions with Snape?” He snickers, his eyes widening when the aforementioned professor walks by, using a piece of parchment in his hand to smack Ron in the head.  

You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, as Ron pouts, rubbing the back of his head.  

“Stop laughing you git.”  

Hermione meanwhile is still looking at you inquisitively, wondering what it was that kept you up so late, and why you were so adamant about changing the subject.  

She hums, taking a sip of her juice.  

If you weren’t going to tell her what was going on, she’d find out on her own.  

                                                          ***

Hermione frowns when the light from your wand flickers out, the spell yet again failing.  

“It’s alright Y/N, you just have to find a happy memory to focus on.” She runs a gentle hand down your back.  

You swallow hard, nodding.  

“I-I know...” You murmur softly, head hanging in defeat.  

Hermione gives you an apologetic smile.  

“We’ll get it Y/N, together.”  

You turn to Hermione, a warmth spreading throughout your chest as you look at the Gryffindor who’s sending you the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

“Together?” You ask and she nods, slipping an arm around you, before giving you a squeeze.  

“Together.”  

                                                          ***

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were exhausted, and incredibly agitated.  

You had, again, forgone sleep to practice on conjuring your Patronus, but you again, had failed.  

The DA weren’t meeting that night, which gave you the opportunity to head into the Room of Requirement on your own to practice the spell.  

You WOULD master it, no matter what it took, you WOULD find a memory to focus on, no matter what.  

                                                          ***

Hermione eventually finds you later that day, your head buried in a book in the library, though it’s not because you’re reading, it’s because you’re fast asleep.  

She tiptoes over to you, the girl silently taking a seat beside you, smiling when she realizes you’re snoring softly.  

She shakes her head, opening up the book she’d brought with her, ready for the world around her to melt away.  

You mumble in your sleep, pulling Hermione’s attention away from the world currently resting in her hands and back to reality.  

If she were being honest, you had a habit of drawing her attention, you were an enigma, and Hermione was never the type to leave a mystery unsolved.  

                                                          ***

The snarl that leaves you is absolutely feral as you throw your wand across the room.  

“WHY CAN’T I FORM A PATRONOUS.” You say angrily.  

You’re so angry in fact that you completely miss the Room of Requirement’s door creaking open, and Hermione Granger slipping inside.  

You run your hands down your face as you stomp towards your wand.

Hermione crosses her arms across her chest as she watches you flick your wand.  

“EXPECTO PATRONOUM!” You yell, growling when your wand’s tip doesn’t even light.  

Hermione frowns as you flick your wand over and over again, growling the spell each and every time growing angrier and angrier.  

It’s only after that, that you spot Hermione, your eyes widening in shock.  

“He-Hermione.” You stutter, clearing your throat, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“How long have you been standing there?” You ask, unable to look at the girl who moves closer to you.  

“Long enough... This is why you’ve been so tired lately?”  She asks and you sigh flopping to the floor, your back resting against the wall next to the fireplace.  

“I can’t do it.” You sigh, your chin resting on your knee caps.  

Hermione takes a seat in front of you, as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.  

“What’s holding you back?”  

Your eyes flutter shut, your chest tightening.  

“I don’t have any.”  

Hermione’s brows furrow, the girl scooting closer.  

“Any what?” She whispers and you sigh.  

“Happy memories.”  

Hermione frowns sadly.  

“Harry and I had a...” 

You pause. 

“A similar upbringing.”  

Hermione scoots towards you until she’s sitting beside you.  

“What happened?”  

You swallow hard.  

“Didn’t know my folks, I got my letter in a group home.”  

You fall silent after that, your head moving to rest on Hermione’s shoulder, the action making her cheeks flush bright pink.

Nonetheless, she rests her head on top of yours.  

“Sometimes, we have to make our own memories.” Hermione whispers and you smile, warmth yet again spreading throughout your chest.  

“Yeah, yeah we do.”  

                                                          ***

That night you actually get some sleep, mostly because Hermione basically drags you to the Gryffindor Common Room and forces you to get some ACTUAL sleep.  

The following morning you feel lighter than you ever had before, maybe because you finally got an adequate amount of sleep, or maybe it was because of the moment you spent with Hermione in the Room of Requirement.  

Your cheeks flush, your eyes doubling in size.  

“That’s it.” You whisper to yourself with a massive grin.  

You make your way into The Great Hall, smiling when your eyes catch sight of a familiar head of bushy brown hair, its owner turning to you with a beaming smile. 

“You look rested.” Hermione winks and you shake your head, cheeks dusted pink.  

"Yeah, well you made sure of that.”  

“Yeah, Hermione has a way of forcing people to do things they’re putting off.” Ron mumbles and Hermione scoffs.  

“Is this about the Potion’s homework? You needed to get it done Ronald.”  

Ron scoffs.  

“Yeah, but you didn’t need to come into the Boy’s Dormitory and wake me up using Aquamanti!”  

You slap a hand over your mouth, but are unable to bite back your laughter.  

“Yeah! Laugh it up! Thought Fred and George had threw me out in the marsh around The Burrow again!”  

Hermione giggles.  

“He did scream rather loud.”  

Hermione leans against you as she giggles harder than you’d ever seen, Ron unable to bite back his laughter at the girl’s case of the giggles.  

You fall silent, instead choosing to stare at the girl beside you, the girl whose giggles are finally beginning to taper off.  

You smile, Hermione’s words from the night before echoing in your head.  

“Sometimes we have to make our own memories.”  

Hermione falls silent, her brown orbs widening when she realizes you’re staring. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” She asks and you nod, your smile splitting into a grin.  

“I am.” You shrug, taking a sip of your Pumpkin Juice.  

“Just making my own memories.”  

Hermione grins, cheeks tinged pink as she gives you a nudge, the girl leaning against you through the remainder of breakfast.  

                                                          ***

“You can do this Y/N, remember, happy memory.” Harry pats your back and you nod, taking a deep breath.  

Weeks of trying to search for a single happy memory you had hidden deep within your brain had resulted in failure, but now, with thoughts of the Gryffindor girl standing beside you running through your mind, you knew, you knew this was it.  

You glance at Hermione, earning a nod.  

“I believe in you.” She whispers, your heart skipping a beat in your chest.  

You grin, twirling your wand in between your fingers.  

The remainder of the DA watches as you hold out your wand, the words that had been leaving your mouth for weeks now, yet again passing through your lips, though with a bit more confidence than usual.  

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”  

Light bursts from the tip of your wand, the blue bright light swirling through the air as it takes form.  

Your smile splits in a grin as a bright blue massive wolf forms before you, head held high in confidence, the epitome of strength.  

It runs around the room before it stops in front of you.

The beast nuzzles against your palm until your stroke it’s fur, Hermione grinning, as she watches you interact with your Patronus, after trying so hard to get it to form.  

“You’ve done it.” She whispers and you smile.  

The massive wolf leaves you and prances to Hermione, nudging her hand with its nose until she strokes its head, the wolf licking her palm.

You huff.  

“You like her more than me?” You ask, the wolf yipping as it vanishes in thin air.

“Blimey, what’s a wolf mean?!” Ron whispers to Harry, the two boys smiling when you launch yourself at Hermione, the two of you grinning, arms wrapped tightly around one another.  

“Strength. Loyalty.” Luna whispers.  

Meanwhile, Hermione squeezes you tightly.  

“I knew you could do it.”  

You grin.  

“I just had to make my own happy memories, memories I made with you.”  

The two of you reluctantly part, your eyes widening when you realize the two of you are rather close to one another, your noses inches apart.  

You blink slowly, your cheeks flushed bright red.  

“Uh...”  

Hermione’s cheeks mirror your own, the two of you abruptly turning away from one another, both nervously fidgeting.  

“Th-Thanks Mione, I couldn’t have done it without you, li-literally.” You stutter, shuffling nervously from foot to foot.  

Harry claps his hands suddenly, the boy grinning.  

“I think that’s a perfect way to end practice, see you all Friday night.”  

The DA’s members slowly make their way out of the room, stopping to congratulate you until it’s just you, Ron, Harry and Hermione.  

“That was absolutely brilliant mate.” Ron says as he claps your shoulder,  

“Fantastic.”  

Harry glances at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, his blue orbs narrowing when he sees the look of nervousness on Hermione’s face.  

Harry gives his best friend a pat on the back.  

“We should get back to the common room, mate.”

Ron nods, turning to you and Hermione.  

“You coming?” He asks, though before you can answer, Hermione does.  

“Actually, I’d like a moment alone with Y/N.”  

The boy’s wave, taking their leave moments later, but not before Harry can send his old friend a wink, the girl sending him a glare.  

The Room of Requirement’s door bangs shut, leaving you and Hermione alone for the first time all day.  

“I can’t thank you enough Mione, I-” You stop midsentence when you see her nervously fidgeting.

Hermione’s gaze drops to the floor as you move closer, the girl’s eyes fluttering shut.  

You weren’t used to seeing her so nervous around you, she’d typically been much like the books she was so fond of reading, and that was entirely open.  

“Hermione... Whatever it is, we can-

You again fall silent, though this time it’s because Hermione’s brown orbs have finally locked with yours.  

“Li-Listen...” She swallows hard, wringing her fingers nervously.  

“I’ve never been good when it comes to relationships, I’ve never really BEEN in a relationship, I mean I talked to Victor Krum, but that doesn’t matter, we never dated, we-

Hermione rambles on, her hands flailing wildly.  

“I’ve... I’ve never felt this way about, about a girl and I just-

You tune out, your eyes widening and cheeks flushing.  

Hermione meanwhile is still rambling on, jumping from topic to topic.  

“I just- I really like you and I- I'm not used to things like this, like I said I’ve never-

Hermione stills, brown orbs wide and hands frozen in mid-air as your lips brush hers, the touch delicate, as well as hesitant.  

You pull back, your eyes flying open in fear.  

Hermione meanwhile, is standing stock still, mouth agape and brown orbs wide. 

She'd never expected a kiss to feel like yours had, yes, she’d been kissed before, but the tender caress of your lips was far more than a kiss from a boy could EVER be.  

“Have I rendered Hermione Granger speechless?” You ask nervously, pulling Hermione out of her trance.  

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, attempting to find her voice, though the thing that leaves her mouth when she finally DOES find her voice makes you laugh.  

“Bloody hell.”  

You bark out a laugh, your lips splitting into a grin.  

Hermione’s cheeks flush.  

“Forgive me for not knowing how to reply after a rather significant kiss.” She shakes her head and your brows arch.  

You hum, eye glinting with hope.  

“Significant?” You ask, the girl’s cheek flushing even a darker shade of red.  

“Co-Consequential, I-I've never felt like th-that after  a kiss.” She stutters and you swallow, your tongue swiping at your lips.  

“Wo-Would you be interested in...”

You shuffle from foot to foot. 

“Another significant, consequential kiss?” You ask, nonchalantly.  

Hermione bites her bottom lip to stave off a smile, the woman swallowing hard.  

“I-I would be rather interested.” She giggles, the Gryffindor's gaze falling to your lips.  

This time, Hermione meets you halfway, the girl cupping your cheeks as your lips meet, your hands finding purchase on her waist.  

A bright light causes the two of you to pull apart, your eyes widening when you see your Patronus happily bounding around the two of you.  

Hermione grins as the wolf slips between the two of you.  

“Another happy memory?” She asks and you smile.  

“Any memory I make with you is a happy one.”  

Your lips meet again, with no sense of hesitation from either of you, your lips melding together.  

Your wolf disappears as the two of you part, Hermione’s forehead resting against yours.  

“What do you think about making more together?”  

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues

sometimes you punch the bag, sometimes to bag punches you

word count: 4.5k

warnings: none. heavy handed use of italics

ship: Dousy (Daniel Sousa/Daisy Johnson), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

ahaha.. and the fun begins (the cryptic-ness is for a reason i promise)

“Ow!!” Daisy exclaimed. This was the second time today she had gotten distracted and let the punching bag swing into her. Sans Bobbi or Mack, her usual workout partners, there was no one to hold the bag still while she was pummeling it. Her side of the gym was entirely void of people, most opting to use the treadmills or other cardio machines lining the wall of large windows that faced the forest to the south, or stick to circuits on the resistance machines throughout the middle of the gym. The universe seemed to be telling her to get in some boxing, so she walked over to the bag with the intention of punching until her arms hurt.

Now her nose hurts, too.

“You need a spot?” May asked, silently crossing the padded floor to Daisy.

She nodded. Waiting for May to get into position, Daisy stretched out her arms over her head and across her body, twisting her torso to feel her abs stretch. When May gave her a thumbs up, Daisy started to punch the heavy bag again, this time with a little more force now that she knew it wouldn’t fly back and hit her in the face.

“Something on your mind?”

“No,” Daisy grunted. “Just slacked off the last few weeks. With everyone gone on break there wasn’t as much of... everything, I guess, to keep me in a routine.”

May nodded. “Breaks can be tough. No classes, schedule disrupted, more free time than you know what to do with. I get it. If you ever want a time-filler, text and I’ll be there.”

Daisy nodded, going back to silently punching. The breaks weren’t all bad. They only happened eight times a year, five two-week breaks and three three-week breaks. Enough time that those with families and lives outside of SHIELD could visit and vacation, but not fall behind. Plus, it gave Daisy the campus pretty much to herself. Only about forty students stayed at The Academy over breaks, and it seemed to decrease every time.

Another good thing about breaks was that Daisy got to know more people personally. Whether it was how the tall, fifth-year red head took her morning coffee or that the new group of first-years liked to run the same trails through the forest as she did. So, when an entirely new face had cropped up out of nowhere, Daisy was intrigued. He walked with a limp, had nice hair and kind eyes. She didn’t recognize him, and despite the fact that he had arrived the same day as the rest of the first-years, he was definitely the oldest of the pack. That was unusual, Daisy had thought, SHIELD almost always recruits directly out of high school or college. The last time anyone over the age of twenty-five had been accepted to the Academy was when Daisy herself had started. However, that was a bit of a… special situation.

Every morning, New Guy crossed through the computer lab and waved, smiling confidently at Daisy. His sudden appearance and amicable interactions confused her. Classes weren’t in session, but he always had a backpack with him. Maybe he had tutoring with one of the professors? A new student trying to catch up before the term even began — an enigma.

Once classes had started, he still came by everyday. Daisy liked to think it was because he wanted to see her. They had never spoken more than tired greetings to each other, and yet Daisy felt herself pulled towards him. She shook off the thought. It made her skin crawl, thinking about the last time she felt such a magnetic attraction to someone.

She realized May was studying her through the mirrors lining the wall next to the row of punching bags. She cleared her throat and asked, “Is my form okay?”

May gave her a long look that clearly said, ‘You know that your form is fine.’

Daisy pulled her eyes away from May’s stare, announcing, “I’m going to fill up my water, do you need any?”

May shook her head, pulling out her phone.

Daisy bent down to grab her water and headed to the back of the gym, towards the locker rooms. A couple of reusable bottle-filler stations were stuck into the wall, right next to the PT rooms. Daisy couldn’t help but peer into the closest one as she listened to the sound of water streaming into her bottle. It was filled with floor ladders, yoga balls, sports med supplies... New Guy. Huh.

Wondering why he would be sitting in a dark PT room by himself, Daisy took a swig of her water before continuing to fill it up. He hopped off the table as the lights came on, a young doctor-type walking in a smiling. She was reminded of his limp when he walked towards her, shaking her hand and flashing a large smile. Cute, Daisy noticed. Wait, no, what?

Daisy promptly turned and headed back to the wall of mirrors, choosing to ignore the smirk on May’s face.

“Ready?” Daisy asked.

“Actually,” May began, “Why don’t we get in some sparring? You’ve been at this for over an hour.”

Daisy caught the glance May threw at the half-assed wraps on her hands and nodded. With only a few jitters, Daisy quickly helped May unroll the sparring mats onto the floor. Daisy had only sparred with Yo-Yo since she got back from Columbia visiting her cousin. Sparring with May was an entirely different level.

After some warm-up drills, May silently took charge and got into a fighting stance. Daisy rose up on her tip-toes, then rocked backwards. The grey padding beneath her looked a lot softer than it felt while being slammed onto it. A quick lunge from Daisy and a swift deflection by May, and the two women were off.

Across the gym, Daniel Sousa and the doctor were chatting, watching Daisy and May.

“They look like they’re barely breaking a sweat,” Daniel commented after May leaped off Daisy’s leg, flipping forwards and attempting to grab Daisy around the shoulders. Daisy rolled backward, throwing May over her and getting to her feet as the shorter woman jumped up into a wide stance.

“You’ll get back to that level,” The physical therapist assured him.

Daniel shook his head. “Maybe. I hope so. If not, I’m a damn good shot, anyway.”

The doctor chuckled before motioning back to the PT room. “C’mon, you still have thirty minutes stuck with me before I release you from daily therapy.”

“It’s only been three weeks?” Daniel questioned, confused. They walked through a black door to a small room. Grey cabinets on one side, a black table on the other, physical therapy tools lined up in organized sections.

“Most of which was just assessing you. You already know the exercises and stretches, and you completed the physical therapy recommended by your primary care physician before you came to us. You have the strength mostly back in your residual limb, at least to the point where sparring shouldn’t do any damage. I still expect you to show up at least twice a week. Especially since you’re starting field training with May.”

He smiled. “How do you know about that?”

“I have access to your file, Sousa,” She reminded him, “I also know you were late to her class on the first day. Not a smart move, in my opinion.”

Daniel cringed at the memory of heads turning his way, watching him limp to the only open seat in the very front. May’s comment— “Thoughtful of you to join us, Agent Sousa,” —still turned his face a slightly embarrassing shade of red when he thought about it.

Noticing his uncomfortable silence, the physical therapist put on a sympathetic face. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. I was late to my first class, too. Professor Martin, advanced physiology. Granted, I was seventeen...”

Daniel playfully glared at her.

“...but I suppose that’s no excuse. Let’s get started.”

The rest of the day went by without Daisy or Daniel seeing much of each other besides a fleeting glimpse while changing classes. Not that they were looking for the other, or anything.

A few hours later, before dinner, Daisy was sitting on the counter in the girls’ dorm bathroom, watching Jemma curl her hair.

Jemma Simmons was one of the only people she immediately loved at SHIELD, and the first person she had trusted on Coulson’s team. Over the course of a couple months, they became closer than Daisy had ever been with anyone, spending almost every waking moment together. Over time, Daisy had grown to love the rest of the team, too, learning that they had also been hand picked by Coulson. Though, technically, Daisy hadn’t been chosen for the team. She was picked up as a consultant. But it didn’t matter, as the ragtag team had quickly been disbanded.

Knives shoved into your back can have that effect.

After the end of the team, Code-named Bus Kids, Daisy, Fitzsimmons, Tripp, and May and Coulson had come to the Academy to continue working with SHIELD. Daisy and Tripp were assigned as partners in their ops training, Fitzsimmons were partners in the lab, and May and Coulson still checked on them as if nothing had changed.

But people get busy, and it had been awhile since Jemma and Daisy had properly talked to each other.

“Does the bruise on my nose look like it’ll go away any time soon?”

Jemma glanced up through the mirror, shrugging. “It should. What did you do to it?”

Daisy fiddled with her hands, only answering when Jemma turned to face her fully.

“I kinda, uhm, got punched...”

The stern look Jemma gave Daisy quickly melted into laughter as the brunette added, “...by a punching bag.”

Reaching up to turn Daisy’s face towards the fluorescent bathroom lighting, Jemma gently ran a finger along the angry red splotch on the top of Daisy’s nose. She jerked her head a bit, wincing at the contact.

“You should be fine, I’ll grab some of the good anti-inflammatory meds from the medical storage.”

Daisy thanked her, hopping off the counter to grab an eyeliner pen. “So, how is Fitz? Is this a real date night or are you guys ‘just hanging out’?”

Jemma smiled at his name and rubbed her neck. Daisy smiled back at the subconscious reaction.

“You two are so meant for each other,” She teased.

Jemma tilted her face up towards Daisy, allowing her to start applying eyeliner.

“He hasn’t really defined it. We’re ‘going out’, but we aren’t dating.”

Daisy finished the subtle cat eye, shaking her head. When would he learn that Jemma would only believe they were together if he said, ‘Hey, Jems, I’m completely and totally in love with you and I want you and I to live happily ever after!’

Daisy watched Jemma inspect herself in the mirror, touching up her mascara.

“You look amazing. He’s a fool if he doesn’t see it,” Daisy assured.

Jemma smiled. Her Sheffield accent had gotten thicker over break, Daisy noticed, as Jemma responded, “He does, I know he does. We both just have trouble, you know? Voicing our thoughts and feelings.”

Daisy definitely knew…

“Well, he could do with a good reminder sometimes. If y’all are going to keep going on these not-dates, you might as well show him what he’s missing by staying just friends!”

Jemma laughed, smiling gratefully. She took one final look in the mirror, swishing her knee-length royal blue dress and fluffing her hair. “Okay, well, off I go. Have a good night, Daisy.”

Daisy gave her a thumbs up and went to watch out her window as Fitz handed Jemma a hand-picked bouquet of (slightly squished) wildflowers and took her arm to lead her to the parking lot.

Daisy sighed and turned away from the gold and pink sunset. She opened her personal laptop, immediately bombarded by three windows running programs. One was running an innocent algorithm to clean all the useless, unused files from her computer, one was a simulation that could (hypothetically, no harm no foul) hack the Pentagon, and another was trying to find video and audio feed from Los Angeles, four months ago.

Daisy’s gaze lingered on the last one, not expecting anything new. She sighed and picked up her laptop, deciding to go visit Mack in the garage. It was only seven on a Friday, he’d probably be there working on the run-down, close to falling apart Harley he had bought off an old friend for $200. Mack had been working on it for months. Daisy wasn’t even sure it had half its original parts.

A short trip across the grounds and a trek over a winding path cut through a field of thick tallgrass later, Daisy arrived at the garage.

The monstrous steel and concrete building was like a plane hangar and mechanics lab forged into one. Workstations around the edge were strewn with tools, motors, and half-finished pieces of tech. Shining black SHIELD vehicles and even two quinjets sat in the middle, outlined by rectangular blocks of tape and paint. Catwalks crossed the upper level so that mechanics could reach the tops of planes when necessary, though SHIELD planes hardly ever came to The Academy unless they were being used for a lesson.

Daisy followed the sounds of tinkering and the quietly moving shadows to Mack’s workstation. She carefully leaned against a nearby SHIELD van, not wanting to interrupt his work.

Now, to say that Mack wasn’t easily frightened was an understatement. Daisy had hardly ever seen the muscled giant of a man so much as jump. Ever since discovering this, Daisy had taken every opportunity to try to scare Mack. It was not going great.

Daisy pulled out her phone, silently thumbing through emails and checking Instagram. She was about to walk over and tap him on the shoulder when Mack turned around and screamed.

Clutching his chest, Mack exclaimed, “Tremors, what the hell?!”

“I just wanted to come check in,” Daisy giggled, happy that she had finally snuck up on Mack.

Mack stood with his hands on his hips, smiling wide, before cocking one thick eyebrow and gesturing at her face.

“What happened to your nose?”

“Punching bag won this morning,” She shrugged.

Mack shook his head, laughing in a deep rumble. “You wanna help me with this?” He asked, pointing to the small device on his desk.

She didn’t answer, just reached out to take a small screwdriver from Mack’s very large hand. He showed her how to twist it to create leverage without it slipping while he messed with some wires, and eventually he seemed satisfied.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Mack asked casually.

Daisy nodded, her grumbling stomach betraying her.

Mack eyed her up and down. “Sure. Well, I’m hungry, so let's get something to eat and then we can take the bikes out.”

Daisy liked the feeling of being on a bike, the wind in her hair and steady vibrations from the engine soothing her ever-present headache. Ever since this revelation, if Mack went out on his motorcycle, he invited Daisy to ride with him.

At first, Daisy had been skeptical. What was so great about a two-wheel speeding death trap? One of her best friends had driven a gleaming 1969 Dodge Charger, and she had enjoyed riding with the windows down, but it still wasn’t the absolute best experience of her life, like most motorcyclists claimed a ride could be. However, once Daisy had finally taken Mack up on his offer, she was never hesitant to accept another invitation.

In the canteen, Mack piled a plate high with salad ingredients and baked spaghetti, scooping some off into a bowl for Daisy once he got back to the table. She took a fork and picked at it, chewing the crisp lettuce slowly.

Once they were both finished, Mack put his plate and utensils on the circling dish belt. He let Daisy lead the way back to the garage. She immediately grabbed two helmets and Mack’s gloves.

“That leather jacket gonna be enough to keep you warm? I have a couple old flannels in my bag if you want one.” Mack offered.

Daisy picked at a loose thread on the worn black jacket, nodding and throwing a ‘Thanks’ over her shoulder. She quickly rifled through his duffel bag, pulling out a faded black and blue flannel and shrugging it on under her jacket.

Mack mounted his black and silver bike, Daisy choosing a smaller SHIELD one. She kicked the kickstand back with her foot, finding her balance. She followed Mack as he revved the engine and took off out of the garage. Daisy heard him speak into the helmet’s mic.

“I upgraded the bikes, bigger tires and a better visor. It’s more efficient. Plus, when I’m out on the highway, cars don’t push me around.”

Daisy gave him a thumbs up, focusing on the feeling of air flowing around her. She sped up as she reached the road. She felt as if she was flying high into the air, fighting the laws of physics. On the back roads surrounding the Academy, as familiar as the back of her hand, Daisy relaxed and let herself fall into autopilot.

She heard Mack in her ear, still talking about the bike. She had heard it all before, but there was something centering about listening to Mack retell the evolution of his bike for the hundredth time, like a kid who begged to hear the same bedtime story every night.

It was freeing, speeding down a deserted road on the bike, stars above and pavement below. Pine trees reached for the sky on each side of her. Shrubbery and grass waved to Mack and Daisy as they raced forward.

A slight burn pricked her eyes that she knew wasn’t from the wind. Daisy needed this after a stressful first couple weeks back in class. To be honest, it was what she needed all the time. Daisy was exhausted. Her powers may not be visible, but they were always on, always bouncing around her body. Times like these, though, Daisy felt free. Releasing the constant grip she had on her self-control, she let the vibrations of the engine flow through her. Slowly, surely, Daisy let her guard down. A whispering warble crept into her ears over the wind. She could feel the way the pavement below and the humid late-August air around her absorbed the miniscule quakes, bouncing lightly off the tall trees like a quiet laugh reflecting off the walls of an echo-chamber.

About an hour later, Daisy and Mack were rolling back into the garage. Daisy couldn’t hide the slight redness in her eyes, but the smile on her face told Mack he didn’t need to worry. The pair silently did maintenance on the motorcycles, re-fueling them for later use and checking for any loose parts on Daisy’s.

Daisy headed back to campus, refusing Mack’s offer to walk her back to the dorms. She would be fine on her own. Besides, Jems might be back by now, she could ask about Fitzsimmons’ date. Or she could wait until breakfast tomorrow and tease them both.

Daisy stopped in her tracks. Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow slipped behind a building. Daisy felt her back tense, her hands curling into fists.

Any remainder of twilight light had faded while Mack and Daisy maintenanced the bikes. Daisy couldn’t imagine that any of the trainees that went to parties at the nearby universities were back yet, but no student in their right mind would want to simply walk around the dark campus of the Academy.

She kept walking, more alert. No sounds apart from her steady breathing and the rustle of grass beneath her feet reached her ears. She walked slowly toward where the shadow had disappeared. It looked as if it was headed to the biochem building. Daisy raised her hands, quietly running towards the white building, slightly crouched. She circled it once, twice, before deciding she had been imagining things, the shadow was only a trick of the light. It seemed so real though, so solid…

Daisy shook her head and crossed the courtyard, heading towards the dorms. It was late, and she had important things to do tomorrow. She was probably just tired from her ride with Mack.

Behind her, unnoticed by Daisy, the shadow quickly crossed the field behind the biochem building, slinking into the tallgrass.

The next day, Daisy woke to the sound of her alarm blaring 90’s RnB at six thirty AM, sharp. She quickly shut it off and stared at the ceiling for a moment before groaning and dragging herself out of bed. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night after her encounter with the shadow.

The sun was slowly ascending in the sky, golden light filtering into her windows. It was early, but she didn’t have the energy to go workout. Instead, Daisy stretched on her bed and sent a quick text to Jemma asking to meet up later to gossip about her date.

She grabbed shorts and a cropped sweatshirt, quickly dressing and making her way to the bathroom. She clipped her hair back, brushed her teeth, washed her face and headed back to her room. Trying her best to cover the bruise that had turned from red-violet to a blue-ish tinted black, she did minimal makeup. It’s not like it could get any worse, she thought bitterly. The concealer wasn’t much use.

Deciding to ignore the bruise, Daisy stood up, grabbed her backpack with her personal laptop and journal and headed to the canteen.

There weren’t many students around campus this early in the morning. Most were either asleep or nursing a hangover in their dorms. A few dedicated trainees were scattered amongst the different buildings, either in the gym or studying on their favourite bench. Daisy made a beeline for the canteen, hoping that no one had drank all the fresh coffee yet.

She slipped through the doors, sending small smiles to the students she made eye-contact with, faltering when her roving gaze reached a set of twinkling eyes the color of coffee. Maybe, she thought, I should go over and talk to him. What’s the worst that can happen?

She quickly poured herself a cup of coffee and grabbed a cinnamon raisin bagel from the pastry cart. Checking to be sure he wasn’t sitting with anyone (she wouldn’t want to intrude), Daisy walked around to the back of the large room, sitting in a spot diagonal from him.

After a few minutes of silence where Daisy ate her bagel and pretended not to feel his eyes on her, she turned and faced him.

“Good morning,” she said.

He dipped his head and raised his paper cup of coffee at the same time in response.

Does he not want to talk to me? Daisy questioned herself. She tried again. “So, is the coffee good?” He glanced at her cup that she had been sipping. Daisy recovered, “You know, in your opinion. I love the coffee here, the slightly burned aftertaste goes well with cream and sugar.΅

To her relief, he smiled. “Yeah, it’s good. I don’t usually use cream or sugar.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Ah, more of a bare necessities, no-nonsense guy?”

His nose scrunched a little in thought, as if he was assessing his entire personality to see if it aligned with Daisy’s coffee psychology. He nodded finally, elaborating, “I was in the army. Most of us drank it black while deployed. I never got out of the habit. But, to answer your question, I like to think of myself as low maintenance.”

He sent her a small smile that had her insides melting just a bit. Daisy hid behind the rim of her coffee cup, trying to think of a response. Luckily, New Guy saved her.

“How do you drink your coffee?”

Daisy lowered her own paper cup, clearing her throat. “One half and half, just a bit of sugar. If I’m super tired I’ll add more.”

“So you probably adapt easily and have a deep hunger for answers to all your questions?”

Daisy’s eyes quickly flicked down to her coffee, wondering if her coffee order really exposed that much about her. Daniel laughed, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “I’m kidding. I noticed how you’re always in the computer lab before class, and Yo-Yo told me that you use that time to research.”

Daisy felt a blush creep up her neck. Yo-Yo knew New Guy? And gave him information about her schedule?

Daniel quickly explained, “We see each other in the halls a lot. And we have a class together. She noticed me in the lab and thought I knew you.”

Daisy relaxed. Yo-Yo had become increasingly more friendly to strangers the longer she spent at the Academy.

“I remember the first time I met her. She was so angry that SHIELD had stopped her from exposing the police in her city as corrupt. Our team was sent in to help her finish what she had started, destroy weapons and take down the corrupt members of the department. It was fun,” She chuckled.

Daniel watched her through his thin clear-frame glasses. She winced a little as her nose scrunched with laughter, recalling another story about a mission gone awry that Yo-Yo saved.

“How did you get that bruise?”

“What?”

He pointed to the spot on his face that mirrored the position of the bruise on hers. “The bruise. It looks like it hurts.”

Daisy shrugged, “Not as badly as getting shot. But you know, sometimes you punch the bag, sometimes the bag punches you.”

Despite the playful nature of the statement, Daniel couldn’t help but hear alarm bells in the back of his mind. She had been shot?!

Daisy noticed the change in Daniel’s demeanor and switched tactics, “It’s just a bruise. I wasn’t paying attention and the punching bag flew back and hit me in the face.”

Daniel laughed, becoming more and more intrigued with the enigma sitting across from him. Well, at least this enigma was beautiful, even if she had lost a fight to a punching bag.

A look of pure confusion overtook Daisy’s features. “Excuse me?”

Daniel’s face flushed bright red. He said that out loud. Daisy was still smiling though, Daniel let out a nervous chuckle. The two lapsed into an awkward silence. Daisy was finishing her bagel when he spoke up again.

“It was good talking to you,” he said softly.

Daisy’s eyes wandered his face with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, it was.”

He resisted the urge to offer to walk Daisy to wherever she was going as she headed out of the doors of the canteen, coffee with one half and half and pinch of sugar in hand.

————————————————————————————

hi hellooo! whatd you think? comments and notes are appreciated! (will go back and edit this later, for now i sleep)

tag list: @jaanulore

[heclingmuzik]

After a couple of days of doing her best to recharge and recuperate from what had happened several days ago, she’s back at it again. Doing her runs, working on her strength.  She’ll do her daily routine of waking up at the crack of dawn to do some running down Fibonacci. It’s quiet, and while the sun is up, she still has this underlying...anxiety. She doesn’t let her slow her down though. She keeps a steady pace. 

She feels....like something inside of her is changing and she isn’t entirely sure if she should be worried or if it’s a good kind of change. A hand is placed by her chest where her heart beats and a heavy sigh escapes her. Yeah, she has no idea.

Anyway...

If she wants to get stronger, these are things she’s going to have to work on and with the help of Grimm, possibly Kyrie, maybe Nero and maybe V? It never hurts to ask for their help in reaching her goal....

Right?

Oh, speaking of Grimm...

Ismael comes to a slow stop from her morning jog and exhales as she does so. She brings out a bottle of water with one hand and takes a large swig from it and when done she sets it on the ground by her foot. She brings out her phone to shoot Grimm a text. He should be awake right now. At least she hopes so. 

{TO GRIM:}

{FROM ISMAEL:}

I’m taking a run at Fib’ if you’re down for meeting up? 

It’s a last minute thing, so hopefully he doesn’t mind.

@ascarletflame​

[bibislut]

Merlot and Meddling

I present to you; a fic born from the inspiration at the bottom of a bottle of wine.

Synopsis: Maybe Pansy could be right for once, maybe this is the closure Draco needs. Or maybe they’ve both just had a little too much to drink. After all, nothing bad ever came from drunk advice, right?

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2494

Find it on Ao3 

-----

Draco took a large swig of his wine, swilling it around his mouth as he thought over Pansy’s idea. The two had already finished their second bottle and were now well into their third. The blond was laying languidly on his best friend's sofa, the raven-haired witch in question haphazardly strewn across the neighbouring armchair.

“Not a chance.” Was he slurring?

“Why the fuck not?” Pansy’s high squeal of disbelief echoed in draco’s ears.

“Because it's a moronic idea.”

“No it's not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It. Is. Not.” Pansy enunciated each word harshly, pushing herself up. Draco flicked his eyes over to her, meeting her determined gaze. “This will be good for you, Draco. And even better for me, when I read it sober tomorrow.” She grinned.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose as he resigned himself to the whims of a stubborn, drunk heiress, with a loud groan. “Fine.”

Pansy squealed, a horrific noise that only Draco ever got to hear. Sometimes he wished that being her best friend was a bit quieter. She clapped her hands eagerly. “Wonderful. It’s about time you got some of this mess-” She waved her hands at him, “- out.” 

Draco sat up, enjoying the slight spin of the room as he downed the rest of his glass. “Top me up then, gorgeous. I’ll need my strength.” He drawled.

“In your dreams.” Pansy scoffed, placing her own empty glass on the coffee table. “I’m going to grab some parchment. Top me up too.” 

If Draco was lucky enough, he’d wake up before Pansy tomorrow, and could burn the blasted thing before she could bully him about it.

----

Harry yawned widely, scratching his head as he plonked himself down at the staff table. Neville nudged the pumpkin juice towards him, shooting him a sympathetic look.

“Remind me why I took this job again, Neville?”

“Because you’re good at teaching people and making them believe in themselves?” The herbology teacher took a bite of his jam-laden toast.

Harry huffed. “Well it certainly wasn’t to stay up all night grading mock exams.” He pulled a plate of pancakes towards him. “I had more than enough of my own bloody OWLs and NEWTs.” He grumbled. “Should’ve thought this through more.”

Neville hummed. “Do you want me to pour some cold water on you?”

“Don’t even try it.” Harry smirked. “You can’t just throw water on The Saviour of The Wizarding World.”

“Did you forget I’m the one who stood up to Voldemort?” Neville raised an eyebrow.

“What has happened to you?” Harry shook his head jokingly. “Where’s the shy boy I grew up with?”

“Still bloody here.” Neville chuckled. “Just a bit more comfortable now.”

“Teaching suits you.”

“It suits you too, most days.”

Both young men turned back to their food, Harry reaching for the pot of coffee he’d asked for. The noise in the hall rose, and he looked up just in time to catch the post before it hit his plate. Being a Hogwarts alumni and a seeker definitely helped during breakfast.

It was just the usual, a copy of the day’s Daily Prophet, a copy of The Quibbler, a letter addressed in Hermione’s writing, no doubt reminding him of the Weasley spring get-together, and...another letter. He didn’t recognise the handwriting. He pried open the seal curiously, unfolding the letter inside:

-Dear Mr Potter,

The most famous, most brilliant, most bravest man to ever exist. Who’s arse we must all kiss, and lick, and fondle, though that may be just me. It really is a nice arse you know. Have you ever looked in the mirror? A truly fine specimen. You wouldn’t think it spent so much time on a broomstick being a bloody show off, but here we are, you with a nice arse and me with a picture of it in my head. How delightful.

I have been told to write this letter to get my feelings out. And though I would usually deny these feelings, everything must end - including these ridiculous thoughts. “What thoughts?” You may ask. Well, let me tell you.

 I hold a rather large grudge, fuelled almost completely by my own damaged pride. Pride bruised by a lack of you in my life, and pride bruised whenever you are in my life. It is quite the conundrum, I tell you.

A lot of my feelings are unnecessary, some unscrupulous, some unwanted, unfounded, but most of them unreturned. For when have you ever looked into my eyes the way I do yours? When have you lain in the dark, retracing our encounters? Or remembering the colour of your eyes, or the pattern of your freckles, or the way you thin your lips in rage, or lick them with anxiety or when, perhaps, have you thought of me at all? Outside of your obligation to that is? Your obligation to hate me, despise me, distrust me. Please tell me that’s what it is; an obligation. Or at least tell me that you don’t anymore, don’t resent me, loathe me. That’s what I need to believe.

I certainly did you. I hated you, it's true. For many reasons. For stealing the limelight, for bettering me, for dismissing me. But I also admired you, envied you. Resented you, and myself, for my cowardice, for my choices, for having the family that I did, that I do. 

I could go on and on, but the point is this- you still plague my thoughts. You still fill my head. You’re in my dreams, my nightmares, my desires… 

And this is not healthy, it can’t be. Progress is healthy, moving on is healthy. And perhaps just imagining you reading this will contribute towards that.

So let me leave you with this, Potter: I feel so many things for you, and none of them can be resolved, or come to fruition. This is my attempt at goodbye. This is my attempt at starting anew. -

The writing is messy, the ink smeared in places, a stain of some kind in the bottom right corner. But Harry knows this handwriting, spent his teenage years seeing this writing, obsessing over it some nights. And he knows the writing on the front of the letter doesn’t match. 

Which means Draco Malfoy did not intend for Harry to see this.

---

“Fuckkk…” 

“My thoughts exactly.”

Draco’s eyes shot open, focusing on Pansy as she sat on the armchair, hair brushed, face washed, sitting in a fresh set of pyjamas. “Why the fuck are you okay?” He groaned, rubbing his face. 

Pansy shrugged. “I had a pint of water and a sandwich after you passed out. Woke up feeling perfectly fine.”

“You bitch. Why didn’t you make me one?”

“And wake the beast? No, thank you.” She motioned towards where a mug of steaming tea sat under a stasis charm. “Cuppa?”

Draco hummed thankfully, sitting up carefully so as not to anger his throbbing head further. “Less of a bitch.” He murmured. He sipped at it, the warmth of it easing a bit of the tension in his body. “What time is it?”

“Just past eight.”

“So, really-fucking-early.” 

“Yeah.” Pansy picked up her own mug. “I’m glad you’re awake though.” 

“And why is that?” Draco sat back against the cushions, easing his shoulders as he took another sip.

“What do you remember of last night, love?”

Draco offered an exhausted chuckle. “Some of it.” He tried to think back. “We finished the third bottle of merlot, right? Or was it the fourth? And your dancing, that was great.” He snorted. “Merlin. You do squeal when you’re drunk Pans, I thought my eardrums- OH FUCK!”

“And there it is.” Pansy smiled at him. 

“Oh Merlin, Pansy. Please tell me you burnt it. Please, Please.”

“I’d love to, Draco, I really would. It’s just…” She paused, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I mean, I was drunk too.”

“Oh no, please tell me you didn’t send it to Blaise!”

“Okay, I didn’t send it to Blaise.”

“Pansy Bernadine Parkinson. What. Did. You. Do?!” 

“Don’t use my full name!” She whined. “You know how much I hate-” 

“Pansy!”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It might go well, you never know. I do sometimes have good ideas, and honesty is always the best pol-”

“PANSY!” Draco lurched forwards, his stomach doing the same. Merlin, anxiety and alcohol did not mix well.

“I sent it to Potter.” She whispered, eyes wide.

“WHAT!” Draco stood up so quickly he spilt his tea.

“You never know-”

“At Hogwarts?!” The blond slammed his cup down on the coffee table, standing over his friend.

“Yes?”

“Merlin’s tits!” Draco’s hand flew to his hair, running them through nervously as he began pacing. “Merlin’s fucking tits!” 

“I mean, it's not so bad, right? You could still make it.”

“Make it?” Draco spun around to face her, his mind racing. What had he said? He didn’t even remember half of it. He was pretty sure he mentioned Potter’s arse, and maybe his father? The memories were returning slower than he’d like. Had he signed it?! “What time is it?”

Pansy cast a quick tempus. 8:11. 

“Maybe I can get there before the post does?”

“Not looking like that, you can’t.”

Draco dashed over to the mirror, taking himself in. His hair was knotted and sticking on end, his trousers wrinkled, his shirt untucked and half buttoned, and he probably smelled as bad as he felt. “Shit, right, okay." He bit at his lips nervously, his head racing. “I’m going to go back to mine and shower and change.” He turned to face her. “Can you send a message through firecall asking McGonagall if I can meet her at the end of breakfast? Say something about a tour of the new quidditch pitch.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Wish me luck, Pans, or it’s gonna be you who’s in the shit.”

“Yeah, I get it, I’m dead to you.” Pansy waved her hand nonchalantly, as if she was already over the mess she'd created. “Just go and sort yourself out.”

-----

Harry read, and re-read the letter at least five times, barely even tasting his coffee. Was it true? Did Malfoy really care for him? He couldn’t deny that the slytherin had been his thoughts since the end of their eighth year, but to think he had been in his? That was insane, unbelievable. And yet, here he sat, holding the letter. 

Maybe he was wrong, maybe it wasn’t Malfoy. Sixth year had certainly proven that he wasn’t the best at handwriting. But it added up, the ‘limelight’ , the ‘cowardice’, the ‘family’. And who else had been close enough to him to comment on his freckles, or lips, or eyes, and still matched the things that had been said like Malfoy did?

Fuck, what was he going to do? 

“Come on Harry, you don’t want to be late.” He looked up at Neville. “You alright, mate?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just some unexpected news.”

“You sure? You look a bit frazzled.” Neville’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

Harry pulled on a smile. “All good. You alright?”

“I’m good. Got a whole day of first years today, you’d think they’d be better behaved this far into the year, but they can still be a bit tricky.”

“You’ll do well with them, you always do.” Harry clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Harry.”

The two men headed out of the Great Hall together. Harry was so distracted he almost didn’t recognise the head of white blond hair standing just outside the doors.

“Malfoy?” 

Draco Malfoy spun around, meeting Harry’s gaze with a look he couldn’t decipher. 

“Potter.” He nodded.

“What are you doing here?” Why was his heart beating so fast?

“I’m meeting Mcgonagall for a tour.” Malfoy wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. He looked good, his hair falling softly over his forehead, no longer slicked back. He was dressed in an all black suit, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket. He looked handsome and confident… except for his other hand, which was tensing and untensing over and over again.

“I’ll catch you later, Harry. Malfoy.” Neville waved goodbye, nodding at the Slytherin. 

“Why are you really here?” Harry asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer. 

“Well,” Malfoy’s voice caught and he cleared his throat. “I suppose I wanted to apologise, for the, um, letter.” He looked down, finally conceding his nervousness.

Harry nodded towards the doors. “The kids will be out soon, follow me.”

“Look, Potter. We don’t have to make this bigger than it needs to be. Let’s just agree to forget about it.”

Harry stopped, turning back to face him. “Why would I do that?” Malfoy finally looked at him. Harry lowered his voice, taking a step closer. “I don’t hate you, Draco.” He licked his lips, terrified of what he was about to say. “It was nice to know you’ve been thinking about me, too.”

Draco’s eyes lit up, before drawing together again. “I’m not in the mood for jokes, Potter.”

“I’m not joking.” Harry took another step forward, until they were only a few feet away from each other. He summoned his Gryffindor courage. “I’ve been thinking about your arse too.” 

Malfoy’s jaw dropped, and he shoved Harry in the chest. “That’s not funny.”

Harry laughed, catching his hands. “It kind of is.”

“Oh shove off, you great big git.” Draco gave a small smile, trying to pull his hands away.

“Make me.” Harry whispered, holding on tighter. If you had told him two hours ago that he would be flirting with Malfoy outside the Great Hall, he would have told you to go and get your head checked for wrackspurts. He felt almost giddy with excitement and disbelief, and most of all, anxiety. He was just riding on the wave of adrenaline at this point. 

Draco snorted. “Good idea, Potter. The hallway is about to flood with students.” The Slytherin didn’t look away though, his silver eyes holding Harry's with a hopeful look.

Harry finally let go of his hands, but neither man stepped away. “Take me to dinner then.”

“You’re asking me to ask you to dinner?” Draco shook his head in disbelief

“Yeah, why not?”

“Very romantic.” He drawled.

“Hey! I’m the one who had to decipher your horrific handwriting.” And read your half-lusty, half-sad ramblings on four hours sleep, he thought.

“Oh, Merlin.” Draco winced. “Fine. Do you want to come to dinner with me?”

“You could be a bit more enthusiastic.” Harry mock-pouted.

“I’ll bloody take the offer back if you’re not careful.”

“Alright, okay.” Harry looked over Draco’s shoulder to see students starting to pour out of the Great Hall. He grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Owl me the details.” 

And with that, Potter dashed off down the hallway, leaving Draco’s fingers tingling and his stomach fluttering with butterflies. They were both doomed, surely, so why were they both so excited about it?

[wonnoy]

comfort berry

some fluff for yamaguchi <3 i don't know much about him but i think i'm gonna make this super aged up. like mid thirties or something but it also has some sort of angst in it (not really, because it's not towards you)

so that means it may be a little longer than what i normally write for a fluff.

___

warnings: fluff, some angst (sorta)

volleyball team reunion, round 4!

____

"I wish I was a teenager again," Tanaka wailed from across the room. He was on his seventh beer and becoming an emotional wreck again. Gathered around the tiny brown table in the middle of the room was the Karasuno volleyball team - original.

Everyone was drinking, even their old professor and volleyball coach. The fact of the matter is - everyone has had at least 3 beers in their system. No one was on par with Tanaka though, Kiyoko sat next to him with a small smile on her face ready to be his designated driver home.

You guys were, by far, the loudest in the tiny bar. But you were also the largest party there. Nearly everyone showed up, excluding Kageyama, so it was bound to be a boisterous party. You laughed as Tanaka began his little bumblings about his job and swished your drink around in the bottle.

Maybe it would have been best to have this party at home, you looked around as you took a swig, people have started to look annoyed at you guys for a while now. But then again, you looked around your group, you never know when it might be the last time that you guys experience something like this. All together in a large group?

You guys were old, there's no denying it now.

Ukai had long had the fine lines on his face before any of you did, but now faint smile lines were showing up on everybody's face. Including yours, small little wrinkles were finding themselves in the crinkles of your eyes when you squinted. Shit, you were nearly 34 with no husband, or even a boyfriend, working a job that was as monotonous as your daily routine. It was damn boring.

You glanced over to the vegetable head across from you, Yamaguchi was probably the only one who has yet to suffer the appearance of age. He still looked as if he was fresh out of college back when he was 22.

He was really ready to tackle the world with a girlfriend, who seem to be more than devoted to him, and a thirst to become an even better person. Not without Tsukishima by his side though. Occasionally you would be there, cheering him on for achievements and helping him when he was down about his studies.

But you were sadly not the biggest thing apart of his life, no matter how much you wished you were.

Yes, you've had a crush on him for only god knows how long. But it felt wrong, seeing as he was in a healthy relationship. Maybe even now, his relationship is going on 14 years. You can't help but be jealous of his girlfriend, you looked down at his hand and there was a ring, well wife. She gets to wakeup to him every morning. You sure as hell wished you did.

Yamaguchi was smiling and looking around at everyone as well before his face went straight and he pulled out his phone. You watched with curious eyes and small buzz as he went to quickly exit the room.

Did he get a text or was someone calling him? His face looked so serious despite looking so young for a man his age.

You took another swig of your bottle, feeling it becoming increasingly lighter in your hands. It's not your business anyway, what are you supposed to do. You aren't a close friend so you can't just bug into his life and wonder what is going on with him. Only Tsukishima had the right to that and maybe Hinata, you looked over at the orange who now just barely surpassed your height, if he was lucky.

He was in a no better state than Tanaka, swinging his arms around like no tomorrow and being one of the main contributors to the noise coming from their group. God, what idiots.

Idiots that you loved.

Yamaguchi came back, but only after ten minutes of disappearing. Tsukishima gave him a small glance but nonetheless continued on silently watching the chaos of his former volleyball team. You shrugged, if Tsukishima wasn't that bothered by it, then it shouldn't concern you even more. He knows him the best right?

You focused your attention on to Yamaguchi. Well, he certainly looked alright. Wait a minute. His eyes were puffy and his nose was tainted red. His brows were furrowed so badly that the wrinkles on his face just magically appeared. Something happened, but should you go and ask if he's okay?

Do you have the right to do that?

You bit back a burp and went to stand. It's a good thing you didn't wear a skirt today, you wouldn't have half a mind to smooth it back down right now. Yamaguchi was only a few strides away, you should be able to make it over to him just fine. Or would the nerves finish you off before you make it?

No one seemed to be paying much attention to you just suddenly standing, but you swore you saw Tsukishima smirk when he saw you rise. But then again, you were buzzed. You could have imagined it.

You made your way over, dodging the legs of Sugawara as his back was resting against the table as he spoke to Daichi and Asahi. Sugawara saw you coming over and stepping over his legs and so he purposefully (well at least you think so) tried to trip you up. You sent a glare his way after securing your feet and kept walking over to Yamaguchi.

"Hey?" he looked up at you. He looked confused. Well anyone would have been confused, why would you suddenly approach him and then proceed to just stare at him in the face.

"Want to get some air, it's getting stuffy in here," you fanned your face to cool down the nerves bundling under your skin. You felt like you were back in high school again. Nervous as hell because you were speaking to Yamaguchi without the help of Tsukishima at your side to guide the conversation.

You two both walked outside, but not the exit Yamaguchi used. A different one.

"Yea this feels much better," you slumped down onto the curb right next to the desolate road. The moon was barely out but damn were the stars bright tonight. Yamaguchi sat carefully next to you, keeping an ample amount of distance from you. Was he scared of you or something? You gave a weird look his way but he didn't seem to pick up on it and just continued to sit there looking contemplative.

How were you supposed to break this thin ice? You bit your lip and sucked down your pride, ready to blame your boldness on the buzz that was steadily fading away out of your system.

"Why do you look like that, are you constipated?" it seemed to catch him off guard, your question that is. He blinked once or twice before bursting in a small fit of giggles that made your stomach flutter. It really felt like you were back in high school. You felt all girlish and even just sitting next to him set your brain to haywire mode.

After his laughter died down, he replied with a quiet 'no' and that it was 'something else' and then the silence resumed. But it wasn't choking like it was in the beginning. It was more welcome than before and you enjoyed it, taking deep breaths of the fresh night air. Letting it revitalize you and even sober you up some more.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you broke the silence again. It's nice just to enjoy each other's company but you could hear the tiny sniffles that were coming from him as the two of you sat there.

Yamaguchi didn't reply to you at first so you looked over at him. His eyes looked tired as they stared at you. It was dark out, there was a street lamp in the distance that was no where near enough to lighten up his face so you could see his facial expressions more clearly.

But you could tell that he could really use a hug.

No exchange of words for permission before you slung your arm over onto his shoulder and roughly drew him in with whatever strength your body had in it.

It really wasn't much strength but Yamaguchi let himself be pulled into your embrace. The sniffling increased and he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and snuggled into the warmth of your body. You were sure he could hear it, the hammering in your chest had increased tenfold when you hugged him. But at this point, it only worried you even more and you were wondering what could have made him this way. You worked your fingers through his short hair, after graduation he chopped nearly all of it off which gave you a heart attack after seeing his near bald head. But now it has grown back into a hairstyle that fit him better (thank the gods).

He rubbed his head into your chest and your face heated to a million degrees and beyond. It felt innocent but Jesus, is he aiming for your death?

You rest your cheek on the top of his head and let out the big sigh you were holding in.

"She wants a divorce, and I-I, I really want one too," he heaved into your body. You bit your lip. It was terrible news, but it wasn't like you couldn't be slightly happy because now it means you might have a chance with him.

You rubbed his back as he shuddered into you, your heart was being sent out to him. He was hurting bad because he truly did love his wife and to be leaving her?

It hurt you to see him hurt, so you tugged him in even closer so now you guys were sat right next to each other. Then you hugged him even harder.

"It's okay Tadashi,"

][][][

this was a lil sad but heres some weird angst fluff going on here

[pa-panda-heroes]

Hey! Not sure if my previous request sent so I’m going to send it again, sorry. Can you do a scenario where Tomura, Tamaki, and Hawks have a s/o with thick thighs who often gets embarrassed about how big they are? And the guys just lay on their thighs and it’s super fluffy? You can obviously ignore this if you want

It did don’t worry, I understand tumblr can be a pain sometimes! Ah, i feel like i may have deviated from the specifics of your request, i’m sorry >< hope you enjoy nonetheless ^^” Also it’s pretty long so i put it under a read more :>

Tomura, Tamaki, and Hawks with a s/o with thick thighs who often gets embarrassed about them scenarios!

Tomura:

It was hard to complain - or say anything, really - when you could see the tall, thin-legged woman in the video game Tomura played while you sat idly to his left on the sofa. Almost as if through instinct you brought the blanket that sat wrapped at his back over your legs. You’d thrown it over him earlier, and after some time he’d shrugged it off as if he got too hot. Yet there he was, looking for all the world offended and downright robbed as you took the blanket.

“What’d you do that for?” he asked, clearly pouting at you for robbing him of such cuddly, fuzzy warmth. Apparently. It was getting late, and sleepiness coated his voice.

“I’m... cold.”

Tomura made a face - one that clearly called you a liar, before he actually did so. “Liar.”

You knew better than to lie to him, he’d coax it out of you somehow. “It’s just... y’know, my legs. They’re big...” Your voice was meek and tiny.

“So? Mine are bony.” He shrugged away.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the genuine confusion in his voice. It was cute in his own way, and he admitted to being bony so unabashedly you didn’t know how else to react. He gave a huff you couldn’t quite translate and tossed his controller onto the coffee table, then switching off the TV and literally plopping his head into your lap while he lay on his side. You thought about protesting, but you knew how childish and bratty he could be when you denied him comfort.

Forefinger rubbing circles on your thigh, Tomura dug his face into your legs like a cat begging for rubs, his hand then gently grabbing the thigh furthest from it.  “Don’t be embarrassed around me. I like them,” he said plainly into your skin, though you knew he meant it. “This would be really uncomfortable for both of us if they were small, right?”

“W-well...” Getting the lump in your throat unstuck proved quite a feat, your cheeks and ears feeling like they’d been set aflame. You didn’t let him touch your thighs often, as it was just too... much, so for him to rest his head on them and caress them, it was unexpected. But pleasant and sweet nonetheless. You couldn’t help but brush his hair away from his face, and in doing so revealed serenely closed eyes and a sleepy pout that made your lips curl upward.

“Quite staring, it’s rude,” you hear him jut, before he moves his face to hide the fresh redness of his almost sickly-pale skin, and you stifle a giggle. A few moments of serene silence pass before he’s shifting to glance up at you again, eyes honest and ever-so-innocent somehow. “Hey, I like this. Don’t hide from me anymore, alright? I don’t care about something like that. I want to do this more often.” It’s not like he could tell you not to he embarrassed in general. But he at least didn’t want you embarrassed around him. Tomura brought a hand up to your cheek to gently glide along your cheek with three of this fingers. The touch was so gentle and sweet, it was almost like he was afraid you were made of glass and would shatter.

He turned on his side to adjust his legs across the sofa and settled in, and while you knew he couldn’t see it, you nodded a little. “Okay.”

“Stay with me forever,” you hear him mumble into your thigh. It was his own way of saying “I love you,” you’re well aware of that.

“I love you, Tomura.”

Oftentimes Tomura liked to fake being asleep, just for you to lavish him bu touching his hair - and you played into it anyway, happy to give - not that he didn’t appreciate your affection while he was awake. But this time, as you watched his breathing fall into a slow rhythm and quiet down, he fell asleep for real.

Tamaki:

Tamaki was no stranger to embarrassment himself, so he knew all too well what you felt. Maybe not exactly, but the whole “I need to hide from prying eyes or I’ll combust” shtick? Yeah, he had that down pat. Embarrassment, for Tamaki, is clearly no stranger. Neither is your embarrassment.

So when the two of you are out on your unexpectedly unison day off and you suddenly go silent, staring at the stick-statured women enjoying the cafe like the two of you, it’s hard not to notice. Most aren’t dressed in tight clothing as per Japan’s norm, but there are a few who wore long pants that seemed to elongate - and slim - their legs.

Tamaki’s first clue is when you shift in your seat and adjust your clothing. The second is when you seem to shrink into your seat while someone passes by. The third is when he asks you a question and you don’t hear enough of it to respond. He finds himself adjusting in his seat as he leans over a little. “Y/n, are you okay? You’re uncomfortable.”

“I-I’m sorry, can we leave and go home?” you sputter bashfully, while there is a hint of guilt in your voice, he knows it. For once you’re the one stuttering, not him. He leaves the appropriate yen notes and a few coins on the table, and the two of you leave to walk home. It’s evening by now, people on the streets sparce and the sky vibrant oranges and yellows. You walk hand in hand, arms swinging. The way the glow from sunset illuminated his face is gorgeous, and you almost wish you could take a picture when you get home, regretting that you didn’t as you plop onto the couch in the silence of your living room.

“You’re you,” he says, and you quirk a brow at him. Tamaki’s eyes are drifted off to the side, but there’s a strength within them and his tone. “You’re y/n. It doesn’t matter to me what you look like. As long as you’re still here, I-I’m happy.”

“T-Tamaki...” You’re quite shocked by how suddenly he brings this up, and how gingerly yet... firmly? You’re unsure if that’s the proper word. He’s not a nervous mess as he says it. It’s clear that he’s been waiting to say this, possibly afraid of your reaction - or because he’s just not confrontational that way.

Tamaki scratches the back of his head, slightly slouching over. “I know what other people may think bothers you. I feel that way about myself. Wh-what matters is what you think of yourself.” He finally looks back at you, and while you can tell he wants nothing more than to shove his forehead against the nearest wall, he doesn’t - for you. His hand rests on your thigh nearest to him, and gently rubs a line up and down it. “I care about you, and I want you to, also.”

“Maybe we can work on thinking better of ourselves together,” you say shyly, smile cracking your lips wide open.

He nods shyly and squeezes your thigh. Tamaki leans over and pecks the crown of your head, then quickly pulling away out of embarrassment. You grin and decide to do the same, save for planting a kiss to his jawline repeatedly, and he lets out a noise. Tamaki’s face reddens deeply and he covers it with his free hand bashfully before dropping into your lap and hiding his face into your thighs.

“Aaaah...”

Your fingers wander into his hair and you rub his scalp, receiving a jolt from him before he relaxed to your touch and you giggle.

Hawks:

Being the lover of the number two hero of Japan brought ita fair share of fun and love - and with it occasionally came grief. The public eye was constantly all over the both of you, some hoping to find some scandal while others just wanted to nose in on your daily lives together. Ah, and who could forget the entire, ridiculously long article written on what brand of shampoo you use. That itself didn’t piss you off; if anything, it was sad for them and funny and entertaining for you. What was aggravating was the fact that they were wrong!

Not aggravating, though, was the article written on your figure. It was insulting and almost inhumanely cruel. The comments were worse. But you were trying not to think about it on Keigo’s one day off since the last blue moon (seriously, did they not understand he was human, too?!). You wanted to be as cheery and bright for him as he always is for you, but there was no such thing as hiding something from him.

“What’s gotcha down, babes?” he chirps, sitting next to you on his couch with a drink in his left hand while his right was occupied with rubbing and resting on your thigh. “Did that last movie bum you out? Sorry, didn’t realise it was gonna be sad like that.”

“No, it was great!” You shake your head vehemently, ensuring he knows you weren’t unhappy with his cinematical choice. Lying to him was literally no option; those wonderful, beautiful feathers of his ensured that by letting him hear your heartbeat. “Always having the public fixated on my appearance and habits is frustrating, is all.”

Keigo downs likely half of the coffee he’d grabbed in one swig before nodding knowingly. It’s set atop the end table to be put aside. Then, he leans back on the sofa next to you, trying his best to accommodate his wings and you. “Yeah, I get that. It does take time getting used to,” he says, before making a face. He must’ve been reminiscing on times where something was said about him - or you - publicly that was hurtful or untrue. “You just have to learn to let it roll off your back. It’s probably not much help, but that’s what I did.” It’s not like he had much choice, but you don’t say that.

“You’re right, I guess.” You shrug. That just doesn’t make it any easier to think about, so you can’t help but pout sadly a little. You’ll just have to work with that mindset from now on.

“Hey, c’mon!” he beams with a toothy grin, leaning into your face until there’s a hand’s width between you. “I’m worth it, though! Right?”

You cross your arms and close your eyes with a cheeky smirk. “Hmm, no comment, Mister Reporter, sir!” you joke. Teasing him was always a treat when you felt down.

Keigo pouts immediately at your response, yet you know he appreciates the humour when he whines aloud. You crack open an eye at him, but both eyes are quick to jolt open when you see that impish grin that he only donned when-

“Guess I’ll just have’ta tickle it outta you, eh, chickadee?”

“Oh, no-!”

Before you could even finish that he tackles you into the couch, fingers working their way up your tummy and around your legs to torture your nerves. You laugh and cry at the same time, being so enveloped in it that you can’t find a way to fight back against him. You’re laughing so hard it’s almost hard to breathe when he uses his feathers to his advantage by increasing the area of his tickle-assault.

“W-worth it!” You giggle out, writhing underneath him.

“Me, or the joke?”

“B-bo- heheheh, both!”

[parkerxchesteruwu]

Chapter 1: Danger

Beads of sweat fell from his face as he struggled to keep his breath manually altered, rhythmic and tranquil, holding himself from the flickering flame beneath his own skin. He could feel the wick he’d shown to the world slowly begin to spark; a lighter was being held up against his heart and he was letting it happen.

He’d always found himself to be the skeptical type - never stopping to listen to something out of his own field of view. Even the most stubborn were aware of their own stubborn tendencies. But now, in this light, when things were dim, he’d become open to possibility. Whether crawling too close to the moonlit fire was dangerous was up for interpretation.

“Parker..”

His own name rolled off the tongue of the man beneath him. The darkness struggled to highlight the smaller’s features, but even now he could pinpoint the rigid jawline and angular facial characteristics of his best friend. What had led them to be so close, lips moments away from connecting, was beyond him - one booze after another fogs the brain. His breaths were labored, and smelt like alcohol. He knew it was only the chemicals in his brain that were making him act like this; and even so, it felt right. The crisp lines of light from the half-open blinds shining illumination onto the other man’s features told him so. In the harshness - helplessness of the moment, he couldn’t help but say his friend’s name back.

“Chester.”

-

“Hey, dude, come have a look at this.”

Parker’s eyelids fluttered at his best friend’s voice. He stood in the corner of the room the two of them always found themselves in; Parker’s kitchen, where they’d edit content for money and split the pay at the end. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy making videos to put on youtube, though there were cons. Having corporate business owners ask him, ‘What do you do for a living?’ was a problem in itself. But he knew he had it well enough. 

Parker responded to Chester’s words with a frenzied smile - he knew the drowsiness of the half-open blinds revealing nothing but black and strips of illumination were getting to him. Sleepless nights of editing footage for a video that’d probably get copyright stricken within a day did numbers on the man’s strength to stay awake. His ambition to work normally coincided with his desire to create - his stubborn tendencies, maybe. He’d been told in his early childhood something along the lines of ‘When you start things, you see it through to its completion’. Parker supposed that was productive in all the ways it could be; but in terms of his mental health, that’s where things plummeted. 

Without a worded response, Chester’s eyes darted to the figure making his way over, and he cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms, leaning back on the wooden chair he comfortably sat at. “Can’t you turn on the lights or something?” He stifled back a chuckle at Parker’s drowsy state, “The blinds are making your forehead look shinier than your career.”

“Our career,” Parker retaliated with a playful undertone. Their banter was always something he savored with a gentle delicacy - it was something only they could have, and it was personal. Their mixing personalities intertwining together to make whatever their lives were brought a special touch to Parker’s daily struggle. It was the lighter of an unlit hole - the fire in a dark cave. Something he held onto with a passion. A stubborn, arrogant passion.

Chester smiled with sincerity. “Anyway, take a look.” His hands gestured to a laptop screen with its brightness at the lowest setting - requested by Parker himself - displaying an email inbox they’d come back to every couple of weeks. the same old same old, but he savored it. He savored everything when it came to Chester.

“What am I looking at?” Parker bit back a grin. He could feel his friend’s all-so-familiar glare seething into his features, and then came the scoff. “The email.” Parker saw it crystal clear. “Which one?”

“Parker.” Chester’s tone was a little more serious, and he still managed to forget he was smiling. Parker could pinpoint the exact curvature he’d see when the smaller man grinned. It was something he did a lot, according to Parker; he was bad at pretending to feel something he wasn’t. Lying was a given weak point, too. 

“Sorry, sorry.”

His eyelids drifted into pale submission as Parker found himself lowering to Chester’s point of view - he stared at the screen and read through what he was instructed to; a video proposal, and an idea. A muttered “What do you think?” came from his best friend, left unto Parker. Parker’s thoughts.

“I think,” He began, leaning upwards again and placing a hand on the table Chester sat at, gripping the wooden ledge. “We should worry about it tomorrow.” The light dripping through from the half-open blinds hit his irises in just the right spot and he had to blink. “Be serious.” Parker bit back with a nonchalant glare. “Be quiet.”

He found his feet propelling him to a colder part of the kitchen, locking eyes with the food-bank; the fridge. Unstable cognition and the need for relief brought his hands to the freezer, pulling on the handle in safety. He felt safe, like this. 

He could feel Chester’s eyes glued onto his figure. He reached into the freezing compartment and grabbed hold of an icy cold beer - a bottle he could hold onto without it slipping from his hands. His hands fit around it nicely. He stopped for a moment, and in the silence he’d grabbed another - not for himself, but for his friend.

“You can’t get drunk while we’re working.” Chester scoffed, typing away at his laptop’s keyboard. “Nobody said I was getting drunk. Just a few drinks, is all..” He closed the freezer with a nudge of his foot, “Besides. You should be thanking me.” Chester’s eyes darted from the screen to Parker’s hands and he rolled them in his realization. “I brought you one too.”

“Oh, however will I repay you for this kind act..” Chester’s sarcastic tone lingered on his words, falling off his tongue like they were meant to be. Parker took the opportunity. “Drink with me.” He found a seat next to Chester and placed the two bottles on the table, small drops of icy water falling onto the table. It probably tasted refreshing, by the look of it. Though dimly lit, it felt like they were in one of those beer ads.

To enjoy something like this with his friend was something he savored, too. Everything was held onto when it came to Chester - looks, and smiles, and words. A gentle admiration he displayed in small acts of sarcasm. He really adored his friend.. and he was surprised he’d stuck around to deal with someone like him, too.

“Just for you, your majesty.” Chester stifled an ‘annoyed’ grin and took hold of one of the bottles, leading Parker to do the same. “Cheers.”

Parker knew that he was tough to be around. Even in his good moments, he was to-the-point, and a skeptic. He’d be left with strong, solid evidence and still want to go further. He was one to go beyond his limits - his personal boundaries - and he knew it was dangerous, but the edge of it kept him going. Out with the old, and in with the new. Things were always new with Chester.

They took a swig in dismembered sync, feeling the icy cold substance fall down their throats and into their body system. It was relieving, and sharp, and had an edge to it that was dangerous. Parker knew he’d be getting drunk that night; the first sip had pulled him into that mindset. but at least he’d be getting drunk with Chester.

Drinks and drinks, laugh after laugh, his clock out of service and the night still apparent. They were in Parker’s living room now, on their 3rd, or 2nd, or something along the lines of that. Parker’s distinguishable features were covered by the blindspot of their dimly-lit illumination, as were Chester’s.

He felt safe like this. Even in his intoxicated state, he felt safe, knowing he could spend his nights savoring these moments like he always did. He savored Chester. What did it mean, to savor Chester?

“So...” Chester was in the middle of speaking through slurred sentences and giddy hiccups. He wasn’t new to the feeling of being drunk; of course, you’re not always aware of it when it happens. But he knew when Parker had sat next to him that it was how the night would end, and he’d accepted it before his mouth could say it straight.

The blinds’ lights shifted as a passing car’s headlights focused the illumination on a different part of the open spaces, and Chester’s features - his angular jawline, and rigid facial characteristics - were heightened, through the crisp sheen of light. It was only for a split second, but through the blurred moments and loss of time it felt too long to be normal. A moment where everything Parker savored was there, in front of him, in safety. He felt safe like this, in savor. But he also knew he had a knack for going over the edge. Feeling dangerous.

Before he could pinpoint what he was doing, his own desire to feel unsafe poured over him, and his glares became heavier, and more personal. He felt safe like this, but he loved to go beyond the boundary. Cross the line, just to see how it goes.

It seemed like Chester noticed it too. His breaths became shorter, but deeper, if that made any sense. The alcohol had gotten to the two of them hours ago and the air felt hot. Thick. Passing cars became the only noises beyond their own breaths. This was the taste-test of beyond savor - beyond Parker’s limit, his own morals, and his own thoughts. He knew it was weird of him to be like this. He knew it was wrong, because he’d never think of Chester of anything other than his friend. But that’s what he felt safe in, and he was ravenous for danger.

He moved closer. He liked the way danger felt. Sharp, and blunt, all at the same time. Chester’s grip on his bottle faltered as he placed his beer down on the coffee table near the couch. In his arrogance, he knew that Chester was aware of his hunger, and whether he was hungry too was beyond him.

Thick. Thick, and heavy, the air felt almost intoxicating to hold in his lungs. This was scary, and this was dangerous. The way the adrenaline pumped through him was addicting.

There was no time to savor, now. Opportunity arose and Parker was ready to fall victim to his arrogance. Once starting something, he’d see it through to its completion. 

A hand moved to Chester’s thigh, clothed in demin jean he couldn’t remember the colour of in the dim light. After a moment of thick silence and awaited protest, the flags of danger rung in his brain, realizing Chester was not stopping this. The hunger for danger.. all of it, turned to Chester, his best friend. Savoring Chester was just a fool’s copout for the hint of something more beneath his glares. No words. Just thoughts, and emotions, and silent compliance. he wanted this. Chester wanted danger, too.

Beads of sweat fell from his face as he struggled to keep his breath manually altered, rhythmic and tranquil, holding himself from the flickering flame beneath his own skin. He could feel the wick he’d shown to the world slowly begin to spark; a lighter was being held up against his heart and he was letting it happen.

He’d always found himself to be the skeptical type - never stopping to listen to something out of his own field of view. Even the most stubborn were aware of their own stubborn tendencies. But now, in this light, when things were dim, he’d become open to possibility. Whether crawling too close to the moonlit fire was dangerous was up for interpretation.

“Parker..”

His own name rolled off the tongue of the man beneath him. The darkness struggled to highlight the smaller’s features, but even now he could pinpoint the rigid jawline and angular facial characteristics of his best friend. What had led them to be so close, lips moments away from connecting, was beyond him - one booze after another fogs the brain. His breaths were labored, and smelt like alcohol. He knew it was only the chemicals in his brain that were making him act like this; and even so, it felt right. The crisp lines of light from the half-open blinds shining illumination onto the other man’s features told him so. In the harshness - helplessness of the moment, he couldn’t help but push himself onto the man, kissing him with silent fury, only to pull away and say his friend’s name back.

“Chester.”

[lostbottlesintheocean]

Without the ‘dark’ I would never understand how light the ‘light’ really is. And while I don’t care for the dark, I do appreciate what it does for the light.

Craig Lounsbrough

[cafedanslanuit]

it was only a kiss || tamaki x mirio

band!au & college!au

summary; college student tamaki is convinced by a friend to join her band. while initially the thought of standing in front of strangers terrified him to the core, he was quickly engulfed by the stage’s power to transform himself into someone else. when mirio and nejire found out and insisted to attend their next gig, there was no doubt in tamaki’s mind it was a bad idea. he just didn’t know how bad it could get.

songs featured; when you were young + mr brightside // the killers

notes; this prompt was made by tiktok user @reverserogue. tagging @inloveinc​ because we love tamaki + eyeliner

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。

The stage is powerful. It had enough strength to make a usually restrained and fearful college student play his favourite instrument without crumbling into the fear and anxiety that was present in his daily life. While it did help that the lights prevented him to see anyone past the first row, Tamaki had to admit maybe Nejire's friend, Yui, had been right about him being a good fit for her band. He had never felt as confident as he did onstage, never felt as good about himself as he had the past few months.

Underground bars were Yui's favourite place to play. Tamaki was against the idea as soon as he listened to her, but after visiting the place a couple of times before they played, he discovered it was actually a good place for him. Most of the attendees were people who didn't know him since they attended another college. He wasn't Amajiki Tamaki, that creepy dude that couldn't form two sentences together, he was just the guitar player to Yui's band, a random guy who mostly hung out with the other band members and would enjoy an occasional free beer sent by their fans.

Soon, they were getting gigs every week. Sometimes they gave them money, sometimes it would be free drinks. It really didn't matter for him. Honestly, he would have done it for free. He never thought it would be so freeing to let himself be someone else, at least for a couple of nights a week. The band success propelled Yui to invite Mirio and Nejire to their next show.

To say Tamaki wasn't so keen on the idea was an understatement. He had gotten used to becoming this new persona on stage, giving his all to the blurry faces that chanted the songs they played. How did his two childhood friends would fit in his new safe world? Before he could finish listing all the valid reasons it would be a bad idea, both Mirio and Nejire were taking note on when and where the band's next gig would be.

Saturday's night came quicker that Tamaki would have wanted and once again they were back at the now known bar, setting their instruments on stage. Iruka, the second guitar and Yui's brother was connecting the wires of the guitars and bass to the amplifiers while Akito, the bass player and Iruka’s boyfriend was tunning his instrument.

"This feels weird," Tamaki winced, helping Yui carry her drums on stage.

"C'mon, they've known you your whole life. It's fair they can also see this amazing and confident dude you become onstage."

"I- I don't know about that," he shrugged.

"It's going to be fine," she assured her. "Go splash some cold water on your face. We'll start in five."

Tamaki obliged and walked to the bathroom. It was badly lit and filled with an unpleasant smell that made him scrunch his nose. Dragging his feet, he approached the sink and splashed water on his face. He looked at his reflection, ignoring the writings in indelible ink written around. He looked paler than usual. Maybe it would be better to tell Yui that he couldn't play tonight. The girl's sad face appeared in his mind and he shook his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. The knowledge he would be sabotaging her band if the main guitarrist just disappeared out of the blue was the only thing stopping him from running away. Tamaki splashed water one more time against his face and took a deep breath.

The bathroom door opened with a loud bang, making Tamaki turn around in surprise. He visibly relaxed when he recognized Mirio. The door shut down again, dulling the music from the bar. Once Mirio spotted Tamaki, he smiled brightly and walked to him, his legs a little wobbly.

"Tamaki!" Mirio yelled, cheeks bright red. He put a hand on Tamaki's shoulder for support, a giggle escaping from his lips. "I had never seen you wearing a leather jacket before and… is that eyeliner? You look cool, man."

"Yui's brother, Iruka," Tamaki explained with a small shrug. The smell of alcohol in his friend’s breath confirmed his earlier suspicions. "Are you drunk?"

Mirio looked around while pursing his lips as if making sure no one was listening to them.

"... Maybe," he whispered.

"Maybe? Y-you can't even walk a straight, I--"

His words were cut off by Mirio's lips pressing against their own. Tamaki couldn't help but let out a small yelp, his arms shooting up to the sides of his chest. After pulling away for a second, Mirio leaned in once more and kissed his bottom lip as softly as he could. Keeping his blue eyes fixed on his friend’s mouth, he gently brushed his parted lips against his, his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

Tamaki felt his legs were going to give out at any moment, the alcohol in the man’s breath in front of him intoxicating him as if he had drunk himself. He was in such a state of shock he didn’t realize he hadn’t kissed him back until he felt the tip of Mirio’s tongue grazing his lower lip. Experimentally, he kissed his friend’s upper lip, trying not to overthink the situation they were in. He felt Mirio smile and take some air, but before he could say anything, the door opened. Mirio pulled away rapidly, setting his hands on the sink next to the one Tamaki has been using. Loud noise from the bar filled the bathroom again, making Tamaki feel as if he was just waking up for dream.

“Hey, we’re waiting for you,” Akito reminded him, tilting his head towards the door. He didn't seem to have noticed anything, or at least pretended he didn't. “C’mon.”

Tamaki nodded, shooting a quick glance to Mirio, who was now looking at his reflection in the mirror, trying to fix his hair. What the hell had just happened? Should he say something? Could he say anything about a situation he couldn't even begin to understand?

Noticing Akito was still impatiently waiting for him at the door, Tamaki decided to follow him to the stage, where Yui had a stern expression on her face, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“The fuck, dude? I thought you had died in there."

Kind of, he thought.

“S-sorry,” Tamaki muttered, picking up his guitar.

“We’re doing ‘When we were young’ to start," she instructed him as she took her place behind the drums.

“The Killers?”

“I told you it was Nostalgia Night today. You read the setlist I emailed you last night, right?” Yui asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m a little out of it. I- I do remember the setlist, sorry”.

Yui’s expression fell a little. “Are you okay? Is it because Mirio and Nejire are here?”

“Yes,” Tamaki lied. Yui sighed and looked to the people gathered in front of the small stage. Mirio was chatting with Nejire happily, both of them holding drinks and smiling.

“Look, I'm sorry I didn't ask you before inviting them. But they’ve been your friends far longer than they have been mine. I’m sure they’ll be proud of you. Once you conquer this night, nothing can ever stop you again, okay?” she said, a small smile on her face. Taking a deep breath, Tamaki nodded. “Great! Now, help me bring the microphone closer to my drums, I’m singing this one."

A couple of minutes later, after a short introduction of the band, Yui tilted her head to Tamaki, who strummed his guitar, marking the beginning of the song.

You sit there in your heartache

Waiting on some beautiful boy to

To save you from your old ways

Yui’s voice had the perfect combination of roughness and strength that fit the rock songs they usually played. Even if Iruka usually did the singing, for the last month Yui had insisted they all should have a go at it.

Tamaki looked at the audience, his face rising in heat when he realized both his friends were on the first row, their big eyes set on him. He immediately lookd away. Would he feel as afraid as he did if Mirio hadn’t just kissed him not even an hour ago? His eyes darted away, looking at the rest of the band. For several tears, he had done the best he could to hide the feelings that had been tormenting him about his friend , since he knew there was no way they were reciprocated. Had he been far less sneaky as he thought he was? Had Mirio somehow discovered it? The wildest theories his brain came up with still couldn’t help him understand why would Mirio kiss him if he didn’t feel anything for him. Could he really...? Was this real?

He doesn't look a thing like Jesus

But he talks like a gentleman

Like you imagined when you were young

Tamaki looked once again at his friends, the words sang by Yui resonating in his head as he took notice in how bright Mirio’s smile was. He would flat out lie if he said that he never, not even in the solitude of his dorm room, had wondered what it would be to kiss him. He also hated the fact his fantasies hadn’t come close to what he had just experienced. The softness and curiosity of his friend’s movements had him smiling once more, not being able to refrain himself.

The song came to an end with a round of cheers from the crowd. Tamaki smiled softly, thankful he hadn’t messed up even if his mind was somewhere else. They played a couple of more songs, easing Tamaki more and more into the comfortable state he was always at when he performed on stage. Once he played the final chord, he looked back at Yui, waiting for her sign to play the next song but instead, she waved at him, calling him over. He furrowed his eyebrows and obliged, walking to the drums.

“See? This is going great!” she grinned, taking a swig of her water bottle. “You wanna try that song we were rehearsing the other day? The one you sang?”

“Y-you’re sure?” he asked, twisting his mouth. Yui nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! It sounds great when you do it. C’mon, take the mic”

Iruka and Akito saw Tamaki placing the mic stand in front of him and looked over at Yui, who raised her thumbs at them. Knowing which song was next, they left their drinks on the floor and placed their hands on their instruments once more. Once everyone was ready, Tamaki began playing the well-known riff, the band quickly following him.

Coming out of my cage

And I've been doing just fine

The feeling of fullness music gave him was something he had never experienced before. If he had known live music had such an empowering effect on him, he would have tried it long ago. He only ever played around with his guitar when he thought no one was looking, so he was really lucky Yui had ended up listening to him playi. They both had been invited to a pool party, but Tamaki had quickly left the crowd and started walking around the house. He found a guitar in one of the rooms and started idly strumming some chords, trying to pass the time until Nejire and Mirio wanted to return to the dorms. Yui had been wandering around the house as well when she heard him, and later made it her life mission to get him to meet Iruka and Akito so he could be a part of her new band.

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

Tamaki laughed under his breath when the crowd chanted the next line and turned his head at them, wanting to keep this memory forever. His wish was cruelly granted when the very first image that greeted him was Mirio kissing someone else. She had long, black, wavy hair falling down her back and it didn’t look like anyone Tamaki had seen at their college before, but that didn’t stop his friend from pulling her even tighter against his body.

Muscle memory is a funny thing. Even when your mind is no longer there, music triggers a part of your brain that makes your body play your instrument perfectly if you’ve rehearsed long enough. He wished he could look anywhere but at this random girl circling his friend’s neck with her arms as she kissed him. Tamaki could no longer hear the music around him or even know if he was still breathing. There was only one thing in his mind and the image of it was breaking him into a million pieces.

And I just can't look, it's killing me

And taking control

Tamaki looked over at Nejire, who was happily oblivious to her friend’s state as she danced to the music. He turned to the side once more, facing Iruka and Akito. The crowd sang at the top of their lungs and he doubted whether they could listen to his voice anymore. He refused to look at the crowd again, knowing what was happening right in front of him. Fuck, how did things get so complicated? He had been just fine denying his feelings all those years, not paying attention to them, confident there was no way Mirio would look at him in a different way, and not only had he been proved wrong, but in a dramatically short span of time the timid hope that had grown in his heart has been stomped in the most cruel way. If only his feelings had been crushed, then why did his chest hurt so much?

“How did it end up like this?” he sang, letting out an amused, dry laugh. “It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss.”

How he wished he could get his beating heart to understand just that. It had been nothing more than a drunk kiss. And while maybe that meant the kiss with the girl was also just a drunk kiss, it didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it only managed to tore his crumbled heart a bit more.

The song ended and Tamaki would be lying if he said he remembered which songs they played next. He could vaguely recall Iruka taking the mic stand from him and handing it to Akito. Considering Yui’s big smile after their set was done, he knew he hadn’t messed up but still couldn’t find comfort in it. He couldn’t take his mind off of the image of Mirio kissing that girl, the taste of alcohol on Mirio’s lips as he kissed him in the bathroom and his bright, bright smile as he looked up to him onstage.

The band sat on the bar as they were given free beer as payment for their performance. Nejire sat with them, congratulating them for their set, saying how much she loved it and that she was definitely going to attend their next gig. Mirio was nowhere to be seen but Tamaki didn’t comment on it. He didn’t even want to check if the girl he had seen him with was still around. When Yui asked Nejire where did Mirio go, she excused him saying he had been feeling a bit under the weather and had hailed a cab back to the dorms. Tamaki couldn’t help but snort.

“Told you it was going to be a great night,” Yui smiled, elbowing him playfully. Tamaki nodded and took another swig of his beer.

[justaghostingon]

Cogs in a Steel Heart

Chapter 2: Building Trust

Hugo struggles to adjust and Cyrus gets the tea. Aka. Hugo’s got a lot of complaining to do, and Cyrus is having way to much fun watching him struggle at the whole ‘teammates’ thing.

Link to ao3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331849/chapters/59001811#workskin

The next time Hugo came to report to Cyrus, he and his new team had already completed the water trial. Now most people would be a bit more excited after completing an ancient trial that lay incomplete for centuries. Or maybe just twenty years? Cyrus wasn’t paying attention when Donella explained that. Point was, the way Cyrus saw it Hugo should have been happy, or at least proud.

He was not.

“It’s like pulling teeth with these people!” Hugo tugged at his own hair for emphasis. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive!”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow as the usually calm and in control Hugo proceeded to have as near to a tantrum as he’d ever gotten, ranting and waving his hands like a madman. It was almost...funny.

“The firecracker keeps interrupting me when I’m working, and posturing about catching me in my ‘evil’ scheme-” And heavens above, Hugo actually made air quotes. Cyrus hadn’t realized he even knew what those were, “-as if I’d ever be stupid enough to make something to defeat them in the middle of their camp, what kind of rookie does he think I am? All he’s really doing is getting underfoot when I am trying to help! I need this to work out too! He’s just...uugh!” He threw his hands in the air with such violence it sent him stumbling backwards into a tree.

Cyrus bit the inside of his lip as Hugo sprang back up to punch the tree and scream at it. Thugs don’t smile on the job, and never let it be said Cyrus was not a professional. But he’d never seen Hugo so completely frazzled by simple human interaction. It was karmic really, considering everything Hugo’s usual interactions with people.

Eventually Hugo’s strength gave out and he leaned his forehead against the tree, looking the picture of defeat. And really, if two kids was all it took to wipe him out, Cyrus should have recommended him for babysitting to his neighbors ages ago. Would be good for him.

Hugo let out a deep sigh as his shoulders sagged. “And then there’s Goggles,” he said as he turns himself around to face Cyrus. “He’s a whole ‘nother problem. Always trying to compare notes, talk about “how my day was,” showing off to the kid...” Hugo crosses his arms across his chest. “And he’s not even that good at it! Like half the things he makes blow up! But when I point out his errors, which could get us blown up mind you, he gets all passive-aggressive and tries to do it his way and like come on! I’m not going to die in an explosion because he’s too stubborn to take the help he obviously needs!” Hugo huffed and turned his head away.

“If they are such a hindrance, why not just take both the totems and complete the trials by yourself?” Cyrus points out. As much as he was loving this, they did have a schedule to keep, and the sooner they were done, the sooner they could both go home. He’d get to see Mona in person again, instead of the picture tucked safely against his heart and her daily letters.

Hugo shifted from foot to look, hugging his arms close. “They might not be completely useless in trials,” Hugo grumbled. Then jumped up. “Not that I don’t do most of the work! like 95 percent really, they couldn't do it without me at all.” He ran his fingers through his hair and refused to meet Cyrus’s eyes.

Oh no. Cyrus knew that look. That’s the ‘I screwed up look.’ But surely it couldn’t be too bad, the trial was complete after all.

“But they might have helped a bit at the end there, especially with the final test,” Hugo finished. “I didn’t see through the enchantment like at all, but Goggles,” Hugo sighed. “He pushed it off like it was nothing and dragged me and Firecracker out all by himself.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. Why had he been so upset about that? Donella had told him to infiltrate for a reason. His mind flashed back to the first mission he’d ever had with the kid.

------------------

“What did you do?” Hugo screamed in his face, half soaked and feral as a wild cat.

“My job,” Cyrus replied as he pushed the body out of his way in the rain soaked street.

“You ruined the job!” Hugo threw a hand down towards the body between them. “It took me months to get him to trust me!”

Cyrus crossed his arms. “He was about to kill you.” Kill didn’t quite cut it. Rip in half was more fitting, and much as Cyrus disliked the kid, the scene of the twig-like body struggling against an iron grip as the man’s expression twisted into one of sadistic delight...

“I had it handled!” Hugo snarled. “I could have stopped him in a hundred different ways!”  He shoved a finger in Cyrus’s chest. “Now we’ll never know where the supply was coming from, and it's all because of you!”

Cyrus slowly reached out and pushed the fingers down. Hugo’s expression tightened for a second under his grip. “My orders were to ensure that man was not a threat. He was a threat. Therefore, I did my job.” He let go and Hugo instantly jumped back, clutching his hand close to his heart and eyeing Cyrus with fury in his eyes.

------------------

“Hmmm,” Cyrus mused. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo flinched at the sound. “Did you say thank you?” Cyrus asked.

Hugo’s head snapped up. “What?”

“When someone saves you, normally you’re supposed to say thank you,” Cyrus shrugged. “It’s polite.”

Hugo stared at him, mouth hanging open. “I-I totally forgot about that.”

“Might want to give it a shot,” Cyrus pushed off his own tree and started walking away. “See you next week!”

Behind him Hugo let out a very frustrated groan.

------------------

“And then he goes to the boss, whining about how trigger happy I am. Me!” Cyrus took a sharp swig from his drink, feeling the alcohol burn its way down. “After I saved his life!” He smashed the cup down on the table.

“Hey man, I get it,” Lester gives him a hearty slap on the back. “I served my time with the crazy lady and the brat.”

“He’s something else alright,” Cyrus scowled into his drink. “Like some kind of heartless machine.” He turned to look Lester in his slightly blurry face. “You know his eyes were completely blank when that guy was trying to kill him, it's like he wasn’t even there. Freaky.”

“Maybe the crazy lady made him in the back lab,” Lester jokes. “Explains why he never leaves.”

“Makes sense,” Cyrus’s grip tightened on the handle of his mug. “Robot designed to make thugs miserable.”

“Hey man.” Lester shoved him lightly with his shoulder. “You can always quit like I did.”

“Yeah,” Cyrus took another swig and sighed. “But winter is coming, and Mona and I can’t really afford me outta work right now.”

“That sucks man,” Lester took a sip of his own drink. “Hey!” he slammed the mug down so quickly Cyrus nearly fell out of his seat. “I think I know a guy who can help you!”

Cyrus shook his head as he righted himself on his stool. “You do? What’s his name?”

Lester went cross eyed as he tried to think. “No idea,” he said, and grinned. “But when I do I’ll let you know!”

--------------------

Hugo’s team had barely crossed the border to the next kingdom by the time it came for Hugo’s next report, a fact that Cyrus hoped would mean it was mercifully short. He was wrong.

Hugo seemed in a better mood as he approached, arms loose and swinging. “I’ve got some good news for the report,” he said with a two fingered salute.

Cyrus grunted, and Hugo took that as an opportunity to launch into an elaborate story about him and Firecracker. Apparently Hairstripe, who Cyrus assumed was Goggles and not the donkey, had suggested Hugo and Firecracker go on an errand for “team bonding.” Hugo had added air quotes around the last two words, and heavens was that going to become a thing?

According to Hugo, the whole trip had been an absolute bore, in some nowhere town where the only building of consequence seemed to be the jailhouse, (A jailhouse Cyrus did not remember being there when he’d passed through) which had quickly turned into an unmitigated disaster when some noisy shopper had tried to steal their ingredient from Hugo’s hands.

“Well I wasn’t going to stand for that,” Hugo rolled his eyes. “But the shopkeeper was inhuman, I’m telling you. I couldn’t schmooze anything more than a promise not to sell it until sunset, and then only to the party with the most money by the end of the day.”

“How unfeeling,” Cyrus states dryly.

“I know right?” Hugo huffed as he placed a hand on his chest. “No one can resist my schmoozing!” Where was I? Oh yes. Then Firecracker insisted we work for the extra money.” He spat the word work like it was an insult. “Instead of just scamming some quick cash. I pointed out we couldn’t exactly get a job, and he said we could just sell firecrackers.”

Oh that’s going to make this story confusing Cyrus thought. Firecracker selling Firecrackers, it sounds like a kids rhyme Mona would read to the kids next door.

“Meanwhile our dear commentators were doing absolutely nothing with their time, even as we started getting quite a few customers. So naturally I schmoozed up to them to figure out what was going on,” Hugo flipped his hair dramatically.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Some confidence after it failed you so miserably earlier in the day, he didn’t say.

“But the blind fools were completely unimpressed,” Hugo pouted. “And then they tried to frame me for thievery. Me!”

The sheer look of outrage on Hugo’s face made the corner of Cyrus’s mouth twitch up. So much for schmoozing.

“I escaped, naturally.” Hugo waved his hand in the air. “But Firecracker got caught when they accused him of stealing their fireworks.”

At which point Hugo derailed the story to rant about how he didn’t really want to save the kid, really! But there was no way Hairstripe would let him stay if he didn’t bring him back, so he really didn’t have a choice, blah, blah, blah.

Honestly it sounded more like Hugo was trying to justify it to himself after the first thirty minutes, but who was Cyrus to judge?

“The point is,” Hugo said as he finally stopped ranting, “I went to the jail as the sun was rapidly sinking in the sky, certain we were going to lose. Only to see the jailhouse before me explode into a gazillion pieces as Firecracker came running out the side.”

That explains why I didn’t see the jail house, Cyrus thought, and why there was a burning pile of rubble while I was walking through.

“Firecracker was pretty happy to see me,” Hugo smirked. “Apparently he didn’t think I would actually come back for him. I asked how he managed to blow up the building when the police had taken all his supplies. Turns out exploding moss grows on old brick. Who knew right?”

“Who indeed,” Cyrus said.

“And this,” Hugo raised a single finger. “Is where I succeeded in forwarding my infiltration goal. You see, I proposed a fiendishly clever plan to get revenge on those who robbed us, and get the prize, and you know what? Yong actually listened to me! He totally backed me up when I told them the exploding moss was a rare alchemic ingredient, and didn’t even lose his cool when one of them held a knife to his neck and demanded we tell them how to use it!”

Hugo threw back his head and laughed at the memory. “The look on his face when it exploded in his hands is one I will treasure for years,” he gasped as he wiped away a tear.

“And exploding a rival helps with your infiltration how?” Cyrus crossed his arms.

“I’m building trust,” Hugo waved the question away.

“Blowing people up doesn’t seem like the most trustworthy habit,” Cyrus pointed out. Especially for someone who is trying not to get himself caught by unstable alchemists willing to destroy whole buildings.

“Oh please, the kid blows up everything in his path if he can help it. I’m just speaking his language. Besides,” Hugo’s shoulders straightened. “I can’t keep up the goody-two shoes act twenty-four seven. I’d go mad. But this way, I’m causing problems for them. So they’ll see me as an asset they can exploit and keep me around.”

Assets for exploitation weren’t typically sent on feel-good-get-along missions with teammates, Cyrus didn’t say. No one cares enough to try to make their work life pleasant. He should know. He had worked for Donella for six years. This Hairstripe, or Goggles, or whatever his real name was, seemed to genuinely want Hugo to feel at home, despite his less than stellar introduction.

But there was no sense pointing that out to Hugo, he thought as he watched the boy preen under the weight of his own cleverness. Not when they had a mission to complete. The less Hugo noticed, the less it would hurt when he inevitably had to leave.

[duker42]

Yayy! Your askbox is open! ❤ Can you write a fic where the reader loves Levi from the bottom of her heart, but she refuses to confess because she's afraid of his possible rejection so when she's sure he's at his office she'd leave quality tea leaves behind his door and goes to her room without letting Levi know it was her when he finds the tea bag. This process continues for a few times until the night before the RtS arc and after-

💜The Gift of Tea💜

Y/N was head over heals in love with the short, stoic and often times offensive Captain. There was just something about him that made her heart pound and her face to get hot when he turned those cold granite eyes on her. However she knew that she didn’t have a prayer of the reserved man returning her affections.

She had made her peace with the fact that her love was unrequited, and would always be, for she had no intentions of every telling the raven haired man how she felt. She knew that she would be rejected and that would just make the entire issue of working beside him daily a problem.

He hated the fan fair his fame brought. Detested the idea of people fawning over him for his strength and accomplishment on the battlefield. So the idea of Y/N caring for Levi on a personal level would just be swept aside like ill placed romanticized hero worship. Y/N knew that it wasn’t, she loved Levi for exactly who he was, but the man would never believe that.

Still, she tried to figure out a way to show him that someone cared for him in a way that he would appreciate. He was often a loner, retreating to his office unless he was in meetings with Erwin and Hanji or training with the Squad. He was also a simple man, having very little in the way of luxury that he allowed himself.

As Y/N spend her free day in the marketplace, she contemplated her options. There wasn’t much that she could thing of. The man loved cleaning and tea. Cleaning supplies didn’t appeal, so she decided to find some amazing tea. She wandered through the open air market until she found the stand she had been searching for. They had blends she had never heard of, the earthy smells of the dried leaves filled her senses and made her smile. She asked the merchant many questions, inquiring about the most precious blend of leaves he had. Something that would appeal to a black tea drinker.

Her purchases made, her purse was much lighter for the carrying. The tea had cost her a month’s wages, but would worth it if it would bright some joy into the somber man’s existence. Her plan was simple, she would leave the tea at his door anonymously, giving the Captain an opportunity to enjoy the gift without the worry of rejection.

She put her plan into action that night when she came back to the base. Slipping away from the Mess Hall, she set one of the small containers of loose tea leaves on the doorknob to his office, certain he would see the tin when he came back to burn the midnight oil.

The next day, she noticed that Captain Levi was observing the members of the Scouts very carefully as he sat at the superior’s table. She made sure to look away and grinned to herself as she resumed eating.

Delivering another report from Commander Erwin for the Captain’s signature, Y/N was discreetly asked about the gift.

“Cadet, did you see anyone lurking near my office last night?” He didn’t look up from the report as he casually asked.

Y/N feigned a perplexed look as she answered. “No sir, is something amiss?”

“No, here you go. Return these to Erwin.” He glanced at her as she saluted, waving her off and handing her the papers. Her back was turned as she grinned all the way to the door.

~~~~~

She continued the delivery of the small tins of tea, taking great pleasure in that the Captain had enjoyed the small gifts she left for him. He had pondered the intentions of the person several times, never coming up with the truth of her tokens of affection.

The time had grown near. The mission to reclaim Wall Maria was fast approaching. The tension within the walls of HeadQuarters grew as the plans were finalized. Levi had already briefed his Squad on what was to come, as protecting Eren was their primary objective.

Y/N knew that when the details were given, many lives would be lost in the battle for humanity’s fate. As she sat in the Mess Hall, listening to Erwin explain the Titan serum injection that would be held by Levi, her stomach dropped. It was going to be even worse than their most devastating expedition. In those moments, listening to Erwin’s deep voice, Y/N knew that she wasn’t going to come home from Shiganshina.

~~~~~

Levi was sitting against a wall, his arms propped on his knees, in the alley when Y/N found him. He seemed intently listening to the conversation on the street behind him. She stood back, not interrupting him as the animated conversation interested him.

When the people on the street moved on, Levi picked up his mug of ale and took a sip and looked down the dark alleyway. “Come on out, Y/N.”

She emerged from the shadows and walked to him, looking down at him when she stopped at his feet. “I’ve a favor to ask you, Captain.”

Tired eyes looked up at her as he took another swig of ale. “What?”

She crouched down in front of him and reached beneath her shirt. Sharp eyes watched her movement as she pulled a beautiful necklace from where it rested on her chest. It was a beautifully delicate chain of precious gold, intricate knots crafted at perfectly positioned intervals. The disc in the center of the chain was the embossed image of Saint Maria.

Taking the necklace off, she offered it to Levi. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked at the proffered item. “It was my mother’s. It was the last thing she gave me before she died.”

“So why are you handing it to me?” His curiosity evident in his question.

“I’m realistic. I’m not coming back from Shiganshina. I want you to keep it safe.” Understanding filled his eyes as he nodded once and lowered his head, allowing her to slip the necklace around his neck. The gold gleamed against the dark shirt he wore and the pale skin at his throat.

“You come get this from me when we get back, Y/N.”

~~~~~

Y/N trudged wearily down the hall to her destination. Her entire being ached. Not just her body, which was battered and bruised from the fierce battle, but her soul cried out in pain. Ten Scouts had returned to Wall Rose. Almost two hundred lay dead in and around Shiganshina, and ten were all that were sparred the finality of death. Commander Erwin had been lost, his life’s blood drained on a field where stones had been used as weapons against man and beast.

She knew that Levi had taken it the hardest. Having to choose between two comrades, one who had plucked him from the Underground was enough to make the strongest man falter. Still, he had remained stoic, but the dimness of his eyes told the tale of his grief. He had slipped away from the others after the debriefing, skulking away to mourn in private. Y/N wouldn’t let him grieve alone.

Knocking on the door, she heard the silence from within. She knew that he was in there, alone, in the dark with just his memories and self doubt for company. Pushing the door open, she found him sitting on his couch, elbows on his knees with his head hung down. His jet black hair covered the eyes she knew were clouded with pain. He always felt the loss of their comrades so deeply, even if he didn’t show it to others.

Slowly approaching, she sat down gingerly beside him and laid a warm hand on his forearm. He turned his head slightly and looked at the hand, then her eyes, his own screaming out the weariness and pain of the days results.

“Captain Levi, would you like me to make some tea?” The offer of companionship was extended, veiled in a chore.

He said nothing but nodded his head, unable to even voice his extreme thanks for the momentary relief he found at thinking of anything other than what was in his head.

Y/N returned quicker than he had imagined she would. The tray must have already been set up. She had known that he would accept, and prepared. A single thought shot across his mind. Had she been the one who had left the tins of tea?

She was the only one who seemed to accept his love of tea as just a natural part of his personality. Like the crass insulting demeanor fit in perfectly with the civilized nature of tea time. She interrupted his analytical thoughts into her behavior as she handed him cup and saucer.

Bringing the tea up, he inhaled deeply before gripping the cup with his fingers. The scent was one that he had grown extremely fond of before their last mission. It was the tea blend that he had been receiving from the mysterious benefactor. His narrowed eyes finds hers looking away, suddenly hesitant to meet his intense gaze.

Setting the tea down, he fingers the metal that has been around his neck. Warm from his skin, he pulls the chain off, and moves closer to Y/N.

“I believe this is yours.” He whispered, his hands moving to unfasten the clasp. He watched her carefully as his arms moved around her, noting the deepening color in her cheeks as she nibbled on the bottom of her lip.

He let his hands trace the chain, fingertips brushing her flushed skin as they came to hold the disc in the center of her chest. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Her confusion as his cryptic words was evident. Her eyes widened as he came closer, their noses almost touching. “Your gift of tea was appreciated. But I like the affection behind it more.”

He leaned forward and melded his mouth to hers. Letting the sweet taste of her fill his senses, he knew that while the past hurt, he could get used to the idea of a future with Y/N.

[aswithasunbeam]

Rated: General Audiences

Summary: After seeing Hamilton struggle to get his financial plan through Congress while Washington was ill with pneumonia, Washington forms a plan. AKA The infamous fishing trip

_

June 1790

“Perhaps we should consider going without Mr. Hamilton?” Jefferson suggested. “I’d hate to miss much more of this fine spring day if he’s found himself otherwise occupied.”

Washington turned, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the brilliant sunshine reflecting off the water. “He’ll be along.”

Jefferson sighed and gave his pocket watch a significant look.

“Huzzah!” a man shouted, hanging out the window of a passing carriage and waving his hat in Washington’s direction. “Long live Washington!”

Washington nodded in acknowledgement, as he had to all the other passersby who’d cheered his return to the land of the living. He returned his attention to the street beyond, clearing his throat roughly. His chest still ached with the remnants of the pneumonia that had laid him low for the past month. Even the short stroll from the carriage to the dock had left him winded. The warm sunshine and fresh sea air were doing him good, though; he could feel strength returning to his limbs as he balanced his weight, watching for Hamilton’s arrival.

When he’d first considered a fishing trip to get some quality outdoor time without overly exerting himself, he’d issued an invitation first to Philip Schuyler. A calm, pleasant sail with an old friend had seemed just the thing to get him back on his feet. Schuyler had smiled, but after considering a long moment, recommended, “My dear son-in-law could better use a day away from the press of business, I think. Might he come along?”  

Indeed, when Hamilton had arrived for a visit, he’d looked exhausted, dark rings around his eyes and an unusual stoop to his shoulders. With no precedent to govern to whom the President’s duties fell when he was too ill to carry out his duties, the brunt of the daily functions of the executive had fallen to Hamilton. On top of that, Hamilton had been campaigning day and night for passage of his credit plan. All in all, the boy had looked worse than Washington; and, considering that two of his three physicians had opined that Washington wouldn’t live out the month, that was saying something.

“I don’t understand how Congress can be so stubborn and willfully ignorant,” Hamilton had complained when he’d settled into the chair beside Washington, swigging down a shot of brandy and shuddering slightly at the resulting burn. “Rebuilding American credit requires we have American credit, not fourteen separate debts all leveraged to varying degrees of dizzying excess. Why don’t they understand that?”

“Voting for the federal government to assume all the states’ debts won’t be popular in the southern states that have already paid down their own.”

“One state’s credit means nothing if the others are teetering on bankruptcy.”

Washington had refilled Hamilton’s drink and held up a placating hand. “I know that. And so does Mr. Madison. But that doesn’t stop him being beholden to his constituents.”

“He shouldn’t be beholden to their wrong-headed opinions. He should be leading them, helping them understand why this is the correct course of action. Otherwise, what even is the point of electing leaders to develop specialized knowledge of these subjects? Why don’t we just descend into anarchy now and be done with it!”

“It’s not so bad as all that,” he’d said.

Hamilton had slumped in his chair, defeat dragging down his shoulders and hollowing his eyes. “I’m going to lose the vote. I don’t know what else to do.”

The pang in Washington’s chest at the sight had little to do with his illness. He’d leaned forward to squeeze Hamilton’s shoulder once, consolingly. “We’ll figure something out.”

He’d been gratified to see that a little flicker of hope had sparked in Hamilton’s face at the assurance.

The plan had unfolded from there.

A hired coach pulled to a stop at the entrance to the docks, the passenger door opening almost before the horses had fully halted.

“Here he is now,” Washington said, catching a glimpse of the green silk coat Hamilton favored in warm weather.

Jefferson muttered under his breath, “Finally.”

“My apologies,” Hamilton called as he rushed down the dock. “I had a meeting with some Congressmen this morning, and it ran a bit longer than I’d intended.”

“Was it productive?” Washington inquired.

“What?” Hamilton asked, slowing his pace as he approached, winded and not a little flustered.

“The meeting?” Washington clarified.

“Oh. No.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to clap Hamilton on the back.

He saw surprise play across Hamilton’s features as he noted Jefferson’s presence behind him. A charming smile quickly took its place, though, and Hamilton bowed genially. “Mr. Jefferson, I didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

“I was happy to answer the President’s invitation. I’ve always quite enjoying fishing. And I couldn’t turn down a chance to enjoy the water one such a fine day.”

“I confess I’m rather a hopeless fisherman,” Hamilton said, stepping over the side of the fishing boat with care. “But the weather certainly is fine.”

With the three of them boarded, the boat was unmoored and slowly made its way out to sea. Washington stood beside Hamilton, studying his bruised eyelids with a frown. “You know, I had rather hoped that you had slept in this morning.”

Hamilton gave an amused chuckle. “Alas, no, sir. My habit of sleeping late into the morning was long since drilled out of me.”

“A pity,” Washington replied sincerely; he looked like he could have used a good lie in.

“You think so? It was mostly your doing.”

“Mine?”

“Or Harrison’s doing at your behest.” Washington smiled at the memory as Hamilton turned to Jefferson, attempting to include him in the joke. “Colonel Harrison enjoyed ripping me out of my cot by the ankle whenever the opportunity presented itself. I woke to my rump hitting the floor many a morning. I had terrible bruises the first several months of my work as the General’s aide.”

“Really? I would have imagined rising punctually was an important part of being on his Excellency’s staff,” Jefferson said mildly, folding himself into a seat by the rail.

“Oh, Hamilton never had a problem waking punctually. He just enjoyed making Colonel Harrison’s life difficult. McHenry, too, for that matter. I heard an abundance of fake snoring coming from the aide’s quarters of a morning in those years.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Hamilton replied, grinning from ear to ear. Washington could see a hint of melancholy behind his eyes, though, Harrison’s recent passing rendering the memories bittersweet.

Expression softening, Hamilton continued, “And even had you not forced me to be an early riser, my children certainly would have managed. Three of them were awake at four this morning, practically bouncing off the ceiling with energy. It’s hard to sleep with three little demons jumping on the bed.”

Washington chuckled. “Washy has a penchant for waking his grandmother in a similar fashion.”

“I suppose you no longer need to worry about that, Mr. Jefferson,” Hamilton said. “I envy you your grown children.”

“No, indeed. At least, not until the grandchildren arrive. You know my Patsy was just married?”

The trip was off to a better start than Washington had initially imagined. Of course, Hamilton had always had an easy way about him when politics weren’t involved; he was charming, with a sunny disposition that made him hard to dislike in person. He tipped his head back, soaking in the sun as the conversation rolled over him, Hamilton doing most of the heavy lifting.

“Should we prepare the fishing poles?” Jefferson asked eventually. “We should be nearing Sandy Hook soon.”

“I’ll defer to your good judgment, Mr. Jefferson,” Hamilton said, standing up presumably to fetch the poles. The boat rocked on a wave as he stood, and he reached out hurriedly to brace himself on the rail.

“Are you all right?” Washington asked.

“Fine,” he said, still holding the rail as he moved forward. “I’m not overly fond of boats.”

As Hamilton disappeared below deck, Jefferson asked, “We’re not disturbing you too much, I hope, Mr. President? I know you’re still trying to rest and recover.” His eyes flickered towards Hamilton’s path as he spoke, making clear that by “we” he’d meant “Hamilton.”

“Not at all. I enjoy Mr. Hamilton’s conversation.”

“He’s very charming,” Jefferson agreed. “I can see why Mrs. Church spoke of him so agreeably. I certainly don’t have to worry about carrying the conversation.”

“No. That’s rarely a concern when Alex is involved.”

“Talking about me?” Hamilton called, making his way back to them with three tackle boxes balanced precariously in his hands.

“Mr. Jefferson was remarking that you’re a very good conversationalist,” Washington said.

“You mean I talk too much.” Before Jefferson could interject with an assurance to the contrary, Hamilton gave a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry. Old habit. Tends to happen when I’ve too much on my mind. Feel free to tell me to be quiet.”

“I didn’t mean that at all,” Jefferson said, though Washington felt confident that Hamilton had cut straight through to the heart of Jefferson’s complaint.  

“Well, the offer stands.”

As Washington accepted his tackle box with a nod of thanks, he suggested, “Why don’t you share with Mr. Jefferson what’s been weighing on your mind these past weeks?”

“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Jefferson doesn’t want to hear me blathering on about assumption,” Hamilton demurred.

Jefferson shifted as he assembled his own pole. “In fact, I feel a little at a loss on the matter. Having only just taken up my position, it seems I’ve missed some of the finer points of the debate. It would be enlightening to hear your thoughts on the topic, Mr. Hamilton.”

Washington didn’t doubt for a moment that Jefferson was up to speed on every point of the debate; the capital had been abuzz with talk of little else since his return. A good strategy, though, to claim ignorance of the matter. It meant Hamilton would talk and Jefferson wouldn’t be required to supply his own point of view.

“If you insist, sir. But remember you’ve brought it on yourself,” Hamilton teased.

They were floating idly by Sandy Hook when Jefferson said, “The assumption of the all the war debt would surely be a staggering sum. How long, in your estimation, would it take for the government to pay it all back?”

“That’s rather beside the point.”

Jefferson blinked. “Beside the point?”

“Yes. We need to show other countries that we can use credit responsibly. We’ll need to increase the efficiency of our revenue collection to ensure timely payments, of course, but the goal is not to discharge the debt.”

“How can that be?”

“To show creditors one is responsible, one must use credit responsibly. That means continuing to borrow and make payments. Its basic finance.”

Jefferson’s lips had thinned into a long, displeased line. “You say you’re going to increase the efficiency of our revenue collection. How?”

“Building new lighthouses, refurbishing those already in existence, establishing a coast guard,” Hamilton ticked each item on his fingers as he spoke, his fishing pole having long since been set down on the deck of the boat so that he could speak with his hands. “We need to ensure smugglers are stopped, and good trading partners can get to port safely.”

“And this will be enough to discharge…I’m sorry, pay down the debt?”

“That, and some minor tax increases.”

“Tax increases.”

“Yes.”

“Did we not just fight a war against tax increases?”

“That wasn’t why we fought a war.”

“Funny. I remember it being quite a heated topic of conversation.”

“We fought a war because those tax increases were being forced upon us by Parliament, a body to which we as colonists had no representation. An American Congress, full of representatives of the American people, is perfectly at liberty to raise taxes if they deem it necessary.”

Jefferson’s eyes widened. “You want to force hard working people, many of whom have already done their part to pay down their own state’s debt, to pay more in taxes to a central government, to pay down a massive debt, in perpetuity. Am I understanding you correctly?”

“Our debt was incurred as a nation. It should be paid off as a nation. The debt will exist whatever we choose to do with it. This way, at least, we’ll start our nation off on a strong financial footing.”

“Have you ever spoken to a small Virginian farmer, Mr. Hamilton? Have you ever even been to Virginia?”

“Only the once.” Hamilton gaze had turned steely, his posture straightening. “And I must admit I didn’t have much time to talk to farmers while I was fighting to help force Cornwallis’s surrender.”

“Well,” Jefferson said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“I think this conversation may be growing a little heated for such a fine spring day as this,” Washington interjected.

“You’re right, sir. My apologies,” Hamilton said quickly.

“And mine, Mr. President,” Jefferson added. “Let’s leave politics for a more appropriate time and enjoy our sport.”  

Tentative truce struck, they enjoyed the good weather and caught several blackfish and bass each. The topic rested until their shared coach pulled up in front of Washington’s Cherry Street house that evening. Hamilton leaned to look through the window as the horses pulled to a stop, and asked, “Is that my wife?”

Washington craned is head to look past him and saw that Eliza had indeed stepped out behind Martha. “It seems our wives have been plotting in our absence,” he noted lightly.

Hamilton alighted quickly from the coach and hurried towards the two ladies, arms outstretched. Eliza, he noticed fondly, looked as thrilled to see her husband as if he’d been gone on a months long journey. As they embraced, Hamilton swung her off her feet to spin her around.

“Mr. President,” Jefferson said, catching his attention before he could follow Hamilton’s path towards the house. “How…how can you, as a Virginian, support Mr. Hamilton’s plan?”

Washington sat back against his seat, considering the man before him. “I do not support it as a Virginian.” Jefferson’s brow rose hopefully. “I support it as an American. But of course, it is for Congress to say whether it will be adopted into law.”

“It’s not only his financial plan that causes me unease, sir. I can’t say I know Mr. Hamilton well, but I have seen some worrying tendencies since you fell ill. He was far to enthusiastic in assuming the mantle of authority. That he’s ambitious is easy to see, and that combined with being admittedly charming, handsome, young, and a war hero besides…well, I worry that he is exactly the sort of man who could undo a republic.”

“Have a care, Mr. Jefferson,” Washington said sharply. “Mr. Hamilton’s talent and ambition has done nothing but aid this country thus far, and I have no doubt that he will continue to use his abilities in America’s best interest.”

Jefferson sighed, inclining his head. “If you say so, sir. As I said, I don’t know the gentleman well.”

Washington softened. “I do believe he’s acting in our collective best interest, but I think there’s room to, shall we say, soften the blow for our southern brethren.”

Jefferson’s head tilted to the side, considering.

“Do we understand each other?”

“I think we do.”

Washington nodded, and stepped down from the coach. Martha hurried to greet him.

“You’re looking a world better, my dearest,” she said, scrutinizing his face. “The sunshine did you good.”

“It did,” he agreed.

Eliza was still hugging Hamilton on the stoop. She pulled back slightly to ask, “How did your conversation with Mr. Jefferson go?”

Hamilton craned around to look at Washington, and Washington gave him a meaningful nod.

A mischievous look lit Hamilton’s face as he confided to his wife, “Exactly according to plan, I’d say.”  

Eliza laughed when Hamilton spun her around once again.