#all the stupid mail/paper on my desk and stuff

[zombiewizzard]

hate being an OCD hoarder and having to go through all of my Things and pulling literal plastic garbage from my drawers.. like I'm never going to fucking use this!!!!! it's trash! it's just embarrassing!!!!!!!!

[multicolorlou]

Lucky

Author's Note: This is from the perspective of my self insert, Kellen, but I thought I'd share it so you all can enjoy!! This involves some inappropriate workplace relationship dynamic so be warned of that, but its Matthew Lillard!William, what do you expect?

Also @truecobblepot boo boo pls enjoy 💋 I love you

"Is that a rabbits foot?"

William looked up from his desk in surprise, honestly, he thought Kellen had left already, after dropping some papers off at his desk.

"Huh?" He asked.

She pointed to his keys that lay on the desk, her purple nail polish glinting in his desk lamp's light. "Your keychain, it's a lucky rabbits foot, isn't it?"

She couldn't help but feel the soft fur of the keychain, she had always loved natural animal fur, it was comforting and mysterious, rugged and yet soft.

William was shocked whe noticed, he didn't think she paid attention to such little things, especially about him. What else had she noticed in his office? The stupid participation award he hung up to seem more credible? He was flustered and nervous at the same time, either she'd think he was a loser- or she'd figure out something was up- either was the end of the world to him.

He swallowed his anxiety and replied curtly, "Yes."

She smiled as she fiddled with it a little, "I never took you for a superstitious guy." She chuckled. "They had these everywhere back home, though."

His eyes lit with curiousity, "Back home?" She nodded, smiling. "Where are you from originally?"

"South Dakota, you know, we try to make as much money from souvenirs and tourist traps, so you see these kinds of things a lot."

He chuckled, "I suppose you're pretty used to smaller towns."

She shrugged, "My hometown was about the same size as Hurricane, just different stuff." She looked at him, "You ever been?"

His eyes widened, but when he realized she meant nothing by it, he chuckled, "South Dakota? No, no, but I've been to Nebraska."

"Not too different then," she smiled, putting the keychain down. "Well, Mr. Raglan, I'll leave you be-"

"No, wait-" He interrupted, standing up from his desk suddenly. She gave him a curious look, stopping. "Why don't you stay and chat? I finished up my work early and need to pass the time anyhow."

Kellen smirked at him, "You're not gonna tell the boss I was lounging around?"

He shrugged smugly, "Well, if he asks, you were helping me with something." They both laughed as she sat down across from him, crossing her legs as she sat back.

He couldn't help but eye her gorgeous legs, the dark nylons she wore accentuated the curvature of her calves. He was praying to god she didn't notice him looking.

"So- rabbits are your thing, then?" She said suddenly, pointing to his rabbit-shaped mail holder.

He scoffed, "Yeah, had one when I was little, they're cute little things."

Kellen smiled back, "Im a cat person myself, never had a rabbit, but my friend had both and they got along fine."

"Well, I think we get along just as fine, don't you think?" He suggested slightly flirtatiously, easing his way out of professionalism slowly.

She batted her eyelashes at him, "Well, thank you, Mr. Raglan-"

"Oh, call me Steve."

"Steve…" She repeated back, letting the name sit on her tongue for a moment. He found it irresistibly sexy how she rolled it around in her mouth. He wanted her to say it over and over again, but he had to keep his cool.

"I mean, if I get to call you by your first name, it's only fair."

She smiled, leaning back and unbuttoning a button on her blazer. "I wasn't aware a secretary had such privileges"

He hummed thoughtfully, "Well, I like you more than most of the people who work here."

She giggled, "You're very kind. I try not to be a nuisance."

"You never are… in fact, I wish you'd stop by more often…" His voice trailed off, his intentions were clear at this point.

She blushed at this, "Mr. Raglan… that's highly inappropriate." She teased him, not giving any signal she truly disliked this.

"What did I say?"

"Hm?"

"Steve, say Steve."

"Steve." She replied softly, looking at him with a sweet little bit of sass.

"Good girl."

[paktderpakte]

There must be more to life.

16 September 1941

Margarete climbed the steps to her apartment, struggling to balance her heels on the stairs, and the satchel that always seemed far heavier in the evening than the morning. You would think that just sitting at a typewriter all day and typing out notes, schedules, tables, wouldn't wear as much as it did, but her back always ached, and her wrists. Typewritten text swam in front of her eyes in the dim stairwell, and she leaned on the balustrade for the last few steps, then against the wall as she trailed down the hallway to her door. She turned the knob, stumbled inside, and slumped down on the couch.

Maybe Father had been right. There wasn't any glamour in this, living alone in an apartment block during the evening and typing up meeting minutes about steel production during the day, trudging between them on crowded trains and sterile concrete streets. If she moved back home, it'd probably be for the better-- her parents would be thrilled to have her back, she could help run the shop. She knew because Mother's letters always said so.

It was sweet, and sometimes, on nights like this, the idea tempted her. She did look forward more to her brother's letters, even if he made it out that he was having as poor a time as she was, holed up in one of the garrison forts on the French coast. Father would probably say that the grass was always greener for her somewhere else, that she just needed to pick something, and she smiled at the image of him chastising her before reaching back to turn the radio on.

Her brother's last letter was still on the end table as well. She'd gotten it about a week ago, and hadn't written a reply-- maybe writing Kleis would be a good way to unwind. As she pushed her glasses up on her nose, she unfolded the paper to read it again.

Grete I'm pleased to hear you got the typist job. I know Mother and Father were a bit worried about that, but they don't offer classes in it for no reason. And who knows, maybe you can get someone to pick you up as a secretary or start helping them with their actual planning. Pick you up as a wife, I'd say, but I remember how into your Bund work you were before I left. Maybe it'll be somewhere you can put your organizational skills to use. It's lucky for your new employers that they have you, but I wish you were here instead of our staff. Sometimes I think they're way too lax about things-- the French State might be allied with us now, but it's not like every *Frenchman* is. We go out without proper armament one too many times like we're cops or something and someone is liable to get hurt.

Staff says it fosters goodwill to not be carting heavy guns around on routine patrol though, makes people think of us as, yeah, gendarmes. Supposedly the secret police has stuff locked down well enough, and I'm fine so far, so maybe I just wanna play with a soldier's toys. ...besides that, they should really authorize tropical wear for Occitania. I don't care that it's Europe, in the summer like now I feel like I'm going to melt in this stupid wool tunic. At least the girls think it's sharp. Oh, also. We had some leave a little while ago, so me and some buddies took a train over to Marseilles to spend the day, and there was a guy testing out a new kind of color film that wanted a test subject. We told him he could shoot us, if he sent us copies, and he went for it. Really cool stuff-- here's one from my share of the prints. Write soon. Love, Kleis

Margarete studied the photo with a wistful smile. Three men with private's tabs, Kleis and two others, lounged on the patio of some French cafe in the afternoon sun. Like they were really here.

She kicked off her heels and took the letter and photo over to her desk, thinking about her reply-- but maybe he'd already written another letter, she thought. Sometimes he did do that, if she took a while to get back to him, so better to check the mail first.

In the basket was a mailer from the Bund Deutscher Mädel about some fundraiser, their monthly magazine, a bill, a newspaper…

...and a letter from the Wehrmacht. Not a letter from Kleis-- better stationery, like cream; a red wax seal stamped with the Eagle.

Margarete Anna Reuenthal Sister of Gefr. Nikolaus Ernst Reuenthal Andreasstraße 9, Apt. 8 Düsseldorf, Germany

Gefreiter..? Kleis was a private. She took the letter back to the desk, and-- it seemed wrong to simply rip it open like she would with something less official, and something like sacrilege to break the seal-- slit the top with her letter opener to get at the missive inside. It was typewritten, with a signature at the bottom.

Frau Reuenthal: I am sorry to inform you that your brother Nikolaus gave his life in the defense of the peace on 12 September 1940. The exact circumstances are beyond my authority to divulge but please rest assured that those responsible will be brought to justice. Niko was a good soldier. My heart is with you. Hauptmann Gregor Jung Company C commander MB Aigues-Mortes

ᛦ

Kleis's friends were looser lipped in person. There had been an ambush, some partisan cell who still deluded themselves that the Americans or the British would come to the rescue and sweep the Germans out. A grenade trap had blown the front off the truck, and Kleis, gunning from the back with an SMG, had taken a rifle bullet from the hills.

The undertaker had done a good job with his body. You wouldn't have known he was dead, looking at him laid in the box with his new collar tabs. The Gestapo were on the case, a man in a notably nondescript black suit had assured them. Heads would roll in the south of France, and in the secret police. Petain was deeply embarrassed, by all accounts, would cooperate more with the German garrisons in flushing out troublemakers.

Her father seemed far too stoic. When she and her parents had gone to see the body, he hadn't cried, or betrayed hardly any emotion at all, even with Margarete hiding her face in his shoulder and Mother refusing to even look in the casket. "Yes," he'd just said, so quietly she saw his beard move rather than his mouth. "That's my Nikolaus."

She should have realized it would come to an end at some point. At the funeral, he'd stood up, pulled away from Margarete with notes in hand, and strode to the podium to give his eulogy. "My son followed in my footsteps," he started, "quite against my wishes. I fought in the Great War, as many of you did, and forbade him to fight in what many of us believed would be another. But fortunately for him, his war ended quickly. With his help. Thank God."

"…The letter that his commander wrote me and my wife--" he shuffled some papers, produced a letter like the one Margarete had received and nodded to its author in the crowd-- "said that he 'gave- gave his life in defense of the peace'. " The break in his voice was the only forewarning; an instant after quoting the paper, his frame shook, and he gripped the lectern, turning his face down.

After a while, he spoke again, through tears. "I don't mean to insult you, Herr Jung. But isn't that the height of irony? I have to ask where the security police were. Why my son was given occupation duty in a country with whom we signed a peace treaty over a year ago." None of this was part of the speech that Margarete had heard him practicing; a few murmurs passed through the audience, but Herr Reuenthal had nothing more to say. He regained his composure, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his eyes.

"I am sorry. This is difficult for me. My only son." He straightened up, turning away from the congregation to look at Kleis in repose. "God rest his soul."

ᛉ

Rather than go back to Düsseldorf, Margarete went home with her parents, back to the village and to her old bedroom. She ate breakfast with her little sister, walked her to school, said hello to old friends who were teachers or postmen now. Kleis's room sat empty and full of his things, just as it had after he'd left two years ago.

Nobody mentioned it, but it was all they really talked about. Father got more into military matters, studying the chain of command and equipment as if he might find someone to blame; when Anja said one of her school friends' fathers was visiting from his posting in Norway, Mother had to feign enthusiasm. More than once they asked Margarete if she would move home for good and leave that "dreary apartment on the border."

She didn't know herself for a while, but one night over dinner, she heard herself say, "no, I think I'm going to join the SS."

Father stood straight up out of his chair, whether to impose himself on her as he forbade it or simply in astonishment, she wasn't sure; Mother let out something like a sob. And why the SS anyway? Staring at her food, she barreled forward to justify herself, the words coming out unplanned.

"They wouldn't put me on the front-- I'd be doing paperwork-- and Papa, you've wondered whose fault it was? Wasn't it all the red tape and the rules? In the end, wasn't it that Hauptmann's fault?"

"I'm a great organizer. I could make sure nothing like what happened to Kleis ever happens again. People are scared of SS-men. They'd do what I say. And I was so active in the Bund that they'd practically have to let me in."

"I miss the BDM too. Kleis had friends, comrades…I just type notes all day and let boring old businessmen hit on me." Tears started to drip onto her dinner.

"Honey…" Mother finally said something, scooted her chair closer to pull Margarete in for a hug. "You can come home. I knew you'd hate that job. You can be a Bund leader at Anja's school. You don't have to join the military to help people. Sit down, darling," she said to her husband, gesturing for him to relax. "Let's talk about this."

ᛋ

Her parents convinced her. They talked about it, Mother told her there were always openings at the school for secretaries or troop leaders and Anja told her that some of the teachers missed her. Father offered to help her move out of her apartment, which she refused. It wasn't that much stuff, she said.

Margarete took the train back to Düsseldorf, fully intending to pack things up, say goodbye to her landlord, and come home. The radio, the posters of singers, the books, her clothes, all went into boxes. Kleis's letter was still on her desk, and his photo, his last photo. She picked them up to tuck them in her satchel…the color made it seem so real.

Next would be to take apart the furniture-- maybe she could ask a neighbor for help. Or a carpenter would probably be better. She crossed the room to the phone to call someone, flicked through the phonebook to C…past C. H- N- S.

Schutzstaffel, recruitment office. DRake 3019.

She dialed the number.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Nightcrawler and the Princess

Kurt Wagner x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: Being the princess of a small kingdom has its perks. However, you’re not sure this is a secret you can share with the rest of your friends…

Note: Did I make this a subtle crossover with the Princess Diaries? Yes. Yes I did. Don’t worry about it.

Reader is: Female

Warnings: Swears

Word Count: 1.8k

You carried the large box to the lunch table and set it there, in the middle of your friend group. Jean eyed it curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Care package from my mom.” You replied, using the pair of scissors you kept in your school bag to cut open the packing tape. “She said there’s stuff for the rest of you in here too. Probably candy or something.”

“That’s nice of her.” Scott smiled, watching as you opened the cardboard box.

“Ah, yep.” You reached into the bag and pulled out several packages of Genovian chocolates. “Here you go, guys.” You told them.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at the bags, his tail hovering behind him curiously. He recognized that packaging. “These…I know these chocolates. Does your mother live in Genovia?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m from there, actually.”

Peter thought for a second, already munching on chocolate. “Wait, I thought you were American.”

“Nope.” You laughed, reaching further into the box and pulling out a handful of little Genovian flags she’d sent. “Ah, right. Independence day is coming up.”

“Where even is Genovia anyway?” Warren asked, admiring the little flag once you handed it to him.

“It’s a tiny little country between France and Italy.” You explained. “It’s really beautiful there, though.”

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” Kurt reminisced, sighing fondly.

“When did you visit?” You asked him.

“Several years ago.” He said. “The circus had a few shows there when I was young. The people were so kind, and the coast sparkled like diamonds.”

“You were with the Munich circus, right?” You asked him, trying to remember. He nodded proudly, a smile settling onto his face. “I was at one of your shows! I knew you looked familiar! Oh my god…” You laughed and shook your head. “I should have put those pieces together sooner.”

“You were there?”

“Yeah! My mom took me for my birthday.” You smiled, remembering the show fondly.

And Kurt knew then the information that you were withholding from the rest of the group. His eyes widened slightly and he studied your features. He remembered you. He remembered that day and he remembered the feeling of his heart hammering when after the show, the Queen of Genovia herself introduced him to her daughter, who was about his age. She’d taken her there because it was the princess’ birthday. Though your meeting was brief, he’d remembered it all this time, thinking of it every once in a while…the time he’d met a princess.

You didn’t look all that different now than you had then. Why you hadn’t told the rest of your friend group, he wasn’t sure, but he would keep the secret for you. Of course he would. He smiled softly, admiring you with his new revelation in mind. Even before he’d figured it out, you’d already been a princess to him anyway.

Peter studied the look on Kurt’s face and squinted. Something was going on. Something was going on and he would get to the bottom of it…

***

Over the weekend, your friend group had decided to go to the mall, but before you left, Kurt knocked on the door to your room.

“It’s open, come on in.” You told him.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the room timidly. You were at your desk, reading what appeared to be a letter written on a piece of paper.

“What’s up?” You asked, not looking up from the letter when you asked it.

“You’re coming to the mall, right?”

“Yeah, what time is it?” You glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit. Sorry I’m late.” You chuckled, folding the note and tucking it into your dress drawer. “My mom wrote me a letter with her package.” You explained.

“How nice!” Kurt smiled and you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the way it lit up his face. “Do you write each other letters back and forth?”

“When I have time to, yeah.” You nodded, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Well, shall we?”

Kurt nodded and offered you his arm. You took it and in a poof of smoke, suddenly, you were standing in the living room, where the others were all standing.

Peter had a weird look on his face and you weren’t sure why, but you knew he was up to no good. He always seemed to be…

The squad piled into the car, as usual, and arrived at the mall in under thirty minutes. Jubilee picked the tunes, which was always a good choice, so the ride there was pleasant and relatively uneventful.

You all walked inside and started the routine of shopping around in all of your usual stores. The prom was coming up, so you all spent some time in the dress place on the upper level of the store.

“What color dress do you think you’re going to get, (Y/N)?”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.” You thought for a moment. “Maybe something pink. Or…blue?”

“I think blue would look great on you.” Jubilee grinned, flipping through the rack of blue dresses.

“I agree.” Jean smiled, her eyes flicking over towards Kurt, who was on the other side of the store with the boys.

“Hey now.” You warned, your cheeks warming at the thought. “What did I say about reading my mind?”

“I didn’t need to read your mind. You’re more obvious than you think you are.” She chuckled.

“What she said,” Ororo agreed, causing your cheeks to flush even hotter. “Why don’t we ask the boys which one you should wear?”

“That’s a great idea.” Jubilee agreed, despite your shaking head. “Hey boys!”

“Yes? What’s going on?” Kurt bamfed over beside you, looking at Jubilee curiously.

“Which dress should (Y/N) wear to prom?” Ororo held up one pink dress and one blue dress.

“The blue one.” Scott said knowingly, crossing his arms and smirking. Okay. So he and Jean had talked, then. “Definitely the blue one.”

“I agree.” Warren nodded.

“What do you think, Kurt?” Scott nudged the teleporter.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything. But I do like the blue one. It brings out your eyes.”

“T-thanks.” You blushed, giggling. None of you committed to dresses, so after looking around for a while the squad decided to hit the food court while looking over movie times.

“So…” Peter looked up at you and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest of the group. “When were you planning to spill the beans…your highness?”

You swore your blood ran cold. You looked up at him, your heart racing in your chest and the color drained from your face. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” Peter raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair confidently. “When were you going to tell the rest of us your little royal secret?”

You froze, staring at him for a long time. “Maximoff,” you said through gritted teeth, your eyes glowing faintly. “Choose your next few words very carefully.”

“Oh I have. (Y/N)’s the princess of Genovia.”

“Pfft. As if.” Scott scoffed, chuckling, but he stopped when he looked at the look on your face. “Oh shit, is he serious?”

“Who the fuck told you?!” You asked him, your voice raising the teeniest bit. “The only people who know are Professor Xavier and Dr. McCoy, so which one do I have to kill when we get home?”

“Neither. I snooped in Xavier’s office. Found your file.” Peter shrugged. “And of course, that begs the question: Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Listen…” You exhaled a long breath, looking to each of your friends faces for a moment before fixing your eyes on the table. “When people know, they treat me differently. I don’t think they mean to, but they do and it sucks. I like having friends and I love hanging out with you guys and I didn’t want to ruin that because of something as stupid as status.”

“You’ve got us.” Jean promised. “We’re not going anywhere. This doesn’t change anything. And…I already kind of knew. Not that you think about it often, but every once in a while…”

“I figured that might happen, yeah.” You chuckled. “Thanks for keeping it on the DL.”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“I knew too…” Kurt confessed, looking you in the eye.

You crinkled your eyebrows and then nodded, understanding. Of course he knew. You two had met before, after the show. You’d asked your mother if you could meet some of the performers, and she’d pulled some strings to make it happen. You distinctly remembered meeting Kurt. You remembered his smile and his adorable pointy ears.

“That’s right.” You smiled. “We met.”

“We did.” He agreed, nodding, a smile tugging at his lips and a faintly purple color creeping across his cheeks. “Although, I’ll admit, I didn’t realize it was you until…very recently. We aren’t kids anymore.”

“We sure aren’t.” You agreed, a chuckle escaping your lips.

And it was fine after that. It was normal. Much more normal than you’d expected it to be. Another week came and went. You finished your letter to your mom, Queen Clarisse, and when its response came back in the mail, you found it accompanied by a small picture she had saved all these years. As soon as you looked at it, a smile on your face, you knew you had to show Kurt.

So, you ran out to the courtyard, where you knew he was, and found him reading under the shade of a large tree in the front yard.

“Kurt!”

“What’s up?”

“My mom sent a few copies of this photo. Do you want one?” You asked, sitting next to him in the grass and handing him the photo. He looked it over, holding it very carefully in a large, three-fingered hand.

“This is us, ja?”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, nodding. “A very long time ago.”

“We were so young…” He murmured, admiring the smile on his face as well as yours. He remembered you’d been nervous to meet him and at first, he thought it was because of the way he looked, but quickly learned it was because you’d been enamored by his performance. Absolutely blown away. You’d been so kind to him then, just as you were so kind to him now.

“We really were.”

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

“It’s all yours.” You told him. “So, what’cha reading?”

“Beauty and the Beast.” He told you. Ever since remembering that one of his best friends was a princess, he’d been on a bit of a fairytale kick.

“Mmm, that’s a good one.” You smiled and tilted your head, your eyes sparkling. “Read to me?”

“Of course.” He laid back against the tree again, holding the book open with his tail.

You got closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting your head against his lean chest. His arm wrapped around you and tugged you closer, and without even thinking about it twice, he pressed a soft kiss to your hairline before starting to read again.

Kurt decided then that there was no place in the world he’d rather be than under his favorite tree, a princess resting contently against his chest.

Part 2?

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you and harry steal each other’s stuff that eventually leads to more.

a/n: hi beauties! here is my fic for @stylesharrys​ 10k challenge! my picture of harry is the one above, enemies to lovers, and prompt is: ‘can you use your mouth for something other than talking?’ dedicated to my appreciation for great teachers & wanting to become one, but not happening lol

thank you to my girls @bopbopstyles​ & @harrystylescherry​ for beta reading <3

enjoy 23.4k (LONG AH) words of teacher!harry x teacher!reader, (kind of) enemies to lovers, angst, smut, plus a bit of twist in between!

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF STEAL YOUR HEART! i’d love to hear your favorite moments and thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

It was seven in the morning when you quickly sneaked over to the front desk where the cubbies for mail sat unbothered.

Call it a Monday ritual, where Nina would chuckle at your playfulness as you would take your fellow coworker’s mail and put it someplace else as said coworker would take something of yours and do the same.

Every Wednesday, he would take your bottle of milk from your own personal mini fridge and place it in different refrigerators throughout the building, leaving you to wander around to fifteen different classrooms as you raided their fridges and embarrassingly apologize for being in their business. But they would laugh it off knowing you and Harry always played games like that.

You could use different milk for your coffee that other teachers have, but since you’re lactose intolerant, you’d rather not, especially during work.

And today was no different for you. Every Monday, you would steal Harry’s mail from his mailbox and place it somewhere else; whether it’d be in your classroom or someone else’s classroom—sometimes you would even put it in other people’s mailboxes.

It may be immature of you both to be messing around in a school environment where you’re both teaching third graders how to behave and be nice to one another, but after working alongside Harry for six years, there was bound to be some kind of way to keep the workplace fun and light, but also remain somewhat professional.

But stealing each other’s belongings had begun a year after both of you started working at the school because after you two had met, things were a bit rocky, and somewhat still rocky as of now. You remembered the day so clearly when you accidentally stumbled upon his classroom.

You were nervous for your official first day because it was the first time you would have a class to yourself. You were rather proud of your achievements as you now had your own classroom at twenty-four. It was a different feeling when it was your own; when you were a TA for the high school down the street, but you rarely got to do any teaching because Miss Landson would never miss out on a day of teaching, so you were only really limited to grading papers and helping her students if they went up to you and asked. But you had no experience teaching in front of a whole class.

To say the least, you were nervous.

You had walked into your classroom to find it already decorated, and you assumed it was from the teacher prior who had just retired and didn’t take all of her decorations down. And although you brought many of your own decorations to put up, you didn’t mind it. It was nice to start off your first day not looking at empty walls, as they were filled with all sorts of decorative stars and colorful fliers.

Hesitantly, you took a seat in the comfy and cushioned chair, putting your bag down right beside the legs of the table, and spun around slowly as you tried to ease your nerves. Once you had fully spun around and made your way back to the correct position in front of the desk, you abruptly stopped spinning as you noticed a man standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“What are you doing?” He had said with his brows furrowed. You looked at him as if you were a deer in headlights, feeling like you got caught doing something bad.

“I, uh…just getting a feel for the chair?” You sat up straighter, realizing that was such a bad and stupid answer.

“And why are you doing that in my classroom?” Your eyes widened at that, making you immediately stand up from his chair.

“I-I’m so sorry. I must’ve gone to the wrong classroom,” you hurriedly opened your folder that contained a copy of your contract, school rules, a map of the school, and the room number that you were supposed to be in.

“You must be the new teacher, correct?” He asked as he raised his brows, but still looked at you as if he was scolding you.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a chuckle, hoping to try and lighten the mood as your face had reddened. Harry only nodded, and you felt his stare intimidate you, so you quickly gathered your belongings and walked around the desk. “Uh, nice to meet you,” you took your hand out as you told him your name, and you felt him hesitantly reach for it. But nonetheless, he shook it, and his heavy ring covered hand met your delicate two ringed one.

“You too. I’m Mr. Harry Styles,” he introduced himself.

Once he had said his name, chills had immediately risen onto your skin as he looked at you so intently. You couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome, green eyes piercing into yours, and most likely a year or two older than you, based on how well dressed he was. Everything about him had made you swoon for him.

But that had quickly changed later in that school year of your first year teaching.

It was January, after the Christmas break, when you noticed that some of your things in your classroom had gone missing. Just some basic school supplies such as your gold stapler and all of your expo markers were not in your classroom. You thought that it was impossible your students had taken them because they were in your class when you had left the last day you had gone on break.

It wasn’t until you were helping out with the rest of the staff, putting up decorations for Valentine’s Day when you noticed a certain someone had your gold stapler in his hand as he stapled heart shaped cutouts onto the bulletin board.

“Mr. Styles!”

“Oh, hello there. How are you on this fine Thursday afternoon? Did you know that one of my students-”

“You took my stapler!” You said, and he looked at you confusingly, so you looked at his hand so he would know what you were talking about.

“This is my stapler,” he held it up.

“I don’t think so because my gold stapler was taken from my class and now it’s gone, and I know you don’t have a gold-”

“Snooping in my classroom, are you now, Miss?” He said, interrupting you and a clearly amused look on his face.

“Uh, no, but-”

“Then how would you know I don’t have a gold stapler?”

“I-I…don’t,” you said softly because you really didn’t know as you were assuming.

“Then it’s settled. You must’ve misplaced your stapler,” he told you as he continued stapling decorations to the wall. You huffed as you had walked away, continuing what you were doing.

It wasn’t until a week later, your gold stapler had magically appeared on your desk when you walked into your classroom, and you noticed that a red stapler was on Harry’s desk, when you had buddy classroom meetups, and not in fact, a gold one. And you knew it was him, but decided not to confront him about it as you carried on with your day, happily using your stapler.

So, from that year, fast forward to five years later, taking each other’s things had continued on. Taking his mail and your milk had only started last year, and it’s been fun as you both found new hiding spots and watched each other lose your minds when trying to find them. It was nothing serious, really, and neither of you made an effort to stop.

“Where are you going to put it this time?” Nina asked, amused. You pursed your lip, thinking as you gathered all of his mail in your hands.

“Hmm. I was thinking under my refrigerator, but-”

“What do we have here?” A voice you recognized as Harry said as he snuck up on you, causing you to squeal and jump, making you drop his mail. “Think you dropped something, or is that my mail?” He said as he looked down at the dropped mail.

“Son of a bitch. What are you doing here so early?” You rolled your eyes as you bent down to pick up his mail. He usually arrived at the school around 7:30, and school started at eight.

If it were any other day when you weren’t his annoying coworker and fellow class buddy, he would’ve loved the sight below him, but he had to remind himself to snap out of his thoughts and get it together.

“Now, we are in a workplace where there are children around. Don’t be using that kind of language,” he teased, but proceeded to answer your question. “But I had to print some of the worksheets that I forgot to do on Friday, so here I am. And you know the printer, always getting jammed when you print too many.”

“Seems pretty irresponsible to me if you forgot on Friday,” you turned your head towards Nina as you chuckled, but only found her eyes dreamily staring at Harry, which caused you to roll your eyes. But you didn’t blame her; he was very attractive, but the fact that you both are always messing and annoying one another didn’t completely make your heart swoon for him.

“Says you; the one who gave them a worksheet that was supposed to be for the month later,” he said back. Your jaw slightly dropped, impressed that he still remembered that considering that that happened your first year at the school.

“Ugh, whatever,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, mail still in your hands. Harry chuckled as he looked at his mail underneath your arms, so he went to grab them, causing you to uncross your arms.

“Think this is mine. Thanks for grabbing them for me,” he said sarcastically, and you sighed, bummed that you weren’t able to do your morning ritual by hiding his mail and watching him struggle while finding it.

You watched him walk away as he flicked through his mail, and as you were about to follow him because your classroom is right next to his, he turned around and stopped walking to look up at you.

“By the way, you look nice today,” he said, looking you up and down in a non-creepy way, before walking away to his classroom.

You slightly raised your brows as you were taken off guard by the compliment, but a tint of pink had creeped up your cheeks as they began to warm up. Turning around to look at Nina if she heard the same thing you did, she was already looking at you with a blushing and giddy smile as you whispered to her, “did he just say that?” To which you earned an immediate nod of her head.

With your lips curled into your mouth, you walked back to your classroom, to get on with the day as you tried not to gush over the words of the curly headed teacher next door.

The rest of the week passed by quickly, and per Harry’s ritual, he moved your milk on Wednesday from your fridge to his fridge.

You had never thought about looking through his fridge since he would be quite obvious with knowing that it was in his room, but once you were getting cranky after looking through everyone's mini fridge and the lack of coffee, you had marched in his classroom and told him you gave up. And he chuckled, getting up from his desk as he walked over to his fridge before opening it and giving your container of milk. You took the milk, shaking your head as you walked back to your classroom as Harry followed.

“You know, I think we’re going to have to find something else to hide because I’m running out of places to stash your stuff in before they rot because you’ve been taking forever to find them lately,” he teased as he leaned against one of your student’s desks.

You rolled your eyes, pouring a splash of milk in your coffee. “I’m not taking forever,” you denied.

“Yeah, you are and you know it.”

You gave up arguing, silently agreeing. “Alright, you can pick something else, but I’m going to still do your mail. It’s fun searching through your monthly catalogs,” you said with a chuckle, and he dramatically gasped.

“It’s illegal to look through someone else’s mail!”

“Please. Like you don’t look through mine?” You said as you sipped your coffee, looking at him with testing eyes, and he was caught red-handed.

One day, you were walking to the cubbies and once you got there, you caught Harry sneaking a peek at one of your fashion magazines that you subscribed to. And since you have enough subscriptions that are being mailed to your home, you decided to mail some of them to the school.

“To be fair, it fell out of your mailbox. I was just simply putting it back,” he explained, and you smirked as you told him okay with a testing look.

The next week, there was a meeting with the rest of the staff after school was out of session in the multipurpose room. You took a seat next to Stephanie, or Mrs. Bale, as Harry sat in the row in front of you on the end with Mr. Ken. He was a bit older than Harry, already had that salt and pepper kind of hair and you thought he pulled it off really well, but he was already attractive to begin with.

“Thank you, everyone, for sticking around to attend this meeting. It’s Friday and I know everyone wants to go home, so I’ll keep it short,” Mrs. Morgan started, “So in one week on Saturday, there is a very special anniversary coming up, and that is the school’s 40th anniversary!” She said excitedly as she clapped her hands.

There was small chatter as everyone let out ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’, saying how that’s exciting and a big milestone.

“And we would like to do something to celebrate that—nothing huge, but I’ve already coordinated with a hotel to let us rent out their conference room for next week, and I’ve also hired an event coordinator to grab some decorations. But as for helping set up, I need everyone’s help for rearranging that.” Everyone nodded, not thrilled with the fact that they had to help out with organizing this event. “Just maybe if you can take the time of your busy lives and exhausting job, if some of you can, that would be great.”

Mrs. Morgan then started talking about what would be served, and to sign up if any of the staff were vegan or vegetarian. She also talked about games and photo booths, and expected everyone to participate and be a good sport because it would be a lot of fun when there are more people involved in the activities.

“Also, it is formal wear because the conference hall is a very luxury hotel that overlooks the coast. And besides, you get to dress up, so that’s always fun!” She said cheerfully as she was clearly very excited for the event.

The meeting didn’t go past twenty five minutes as people mainly chatted or asked questions on the location and capacity.

“Alright, everyone is free to go. If you’d like to sign up to help your dear principle set up for next Friday, please sign this clipboard right here.” She waved the clipboard in the air and set it down on the stage as the staff and teachers got up, and headed out of the multipurpose room and some stayed back to ask questions or sign the clipboard.

You stood up from your chair as you gathered your purse and backpack where you keep various folders of your student’s class work, homework, quizzes and tests.

“Gotta get to the kiddos, finally,” Stephanie said as she began to walk, and noticed that you weren’t following. “You coming?” She asked as she turned around.

“I’m just going to sign up for next Friday. I’ll see you on Monday,” you bid her goodbye.

“Oh, you’re an angel for wanting to help out. I’ll see you next week!” She said her goodbyes as she walked out of the room, and you walked towards the stage to sign your name up for setting up the event as well as writing your name down on the list of vegetarians, although you are pescatarian.

You scanned the list to see if there were any teachers you were close with signed up, but so far not many you really know personally, just the occasional hello and how are you. There were only about three people who signed up so far, including you, and you hoped that more people who write their name down and you also hoped the conference hall wasn’t that big because there were only three people helping out, then it would probably take a while to decorate and set everything up.

As you put the clipboard back down onto the edge of the wooden stage before taking one last glance at it, you turn around to be met with a hard chest, causing you to halt back slightly, and soft grunt coming out of your mouth.

Harry was staring right at you as you looked up, you gave him a look as you wondered why he was in your way and standing behind you so closely.

“Watch it, Mr. Styles,” you said, trying to pass by him, but he shifted towards the right as you took a step to your left, making you both face to face again.

“You were the one who bumped into me, Miss,” he said back with a smirk on your face.

You simply rolled your eyes, exhaustion taking over your mind as you’d rather not bicker with him at the moment. He noticed your tiredness, and kept his mouth shut and his games to himself as he let you walk by him. He picked up the clipboard, glancing down at it as he saw your name written down on the third line.

He felt a bit bad that only three people signed up to help out next Friday, especially considering the first two people were Kyle and Saya (Mr. and Mrs. Terrance) who both are way older, and it would be dangerous for them to lift anything heavy. Plus, he probably knew that you would take care of everything if they couldn’t lift anything, but he didn’t want all the work to be unloaded on you, so he decided to grab the pen and write his name down. He also signed his name on the vegetarian list as well.

Once he turned back around, you were already gone, so he lugged his black leather briefcase with him to the parking lot where he saw you walking towards your car. He snuck up behind you, making you squeal and gasp.

“You need to stop sneaking up on me,” you said as you caught your breath and fished for your keys in your purse.

“Thought you liked it?” He asked sarcastically, and you scoffed.

“Aww, annoying,” you stated.

“Aww, you too,” he said right back in the same tone as you, making you playfully roll your eyes, making a small chuckle fall from your lips.

“What do you want, Harry?”

“Just wanted to say that we’re on the event committee for setting up next Friday,” he said, and you raised your brows.

“Oh, goodie. More moments where you get to mess with me,” you told him in an unexcited tone as you gave him a look that told him you found him annoying.

“Please, you like when I tease you,” he said in a more low tone; his voice was deep as shivers ran down your spine.

His words had come out naturally, and his eyes slightly widened at what just came out of his mouth, hoping you didn’t take it the wrong way because it can be taken differently. And you didn’t miss what he said, especially how he said it.

You hadn’t noticed the position you were both standing in and if someone were to walk by, they would definitely have some eyes on you; your back was against the trunk of your car as he stood quite close as he looked down at you while you looked up. It was like you were back to the day you first met him when you stumbled into the wrong classroom and he stared you down until you got up out of your chair. But this time, he was much closer and it seemed like he was definitely not annoyed at you.

And the slightest bit of sweat had run down your neck as you felt hot under his gazing green eyes and the bit of sun was shining right down on you both. You felt a bit nervous under his stare as it can come off quite intimidating, but through the years of knowing Harry, you knew how to bite back.

“That’s too bad though, isn’t it?” You asked, and he raised his brows. “That you would never know if I liked being teased or not.”

With that, you didn’t even wait to hear his response as you shifted to the side, turning around to walk to the driver’s side. He opened his mouth, but nothing seemed to come out of it as he was shocked to hear your words.

A smirk was present on your face as you chuckled a bit from his reaction before you said, “I’ll see you next week, Mr. Styles.”

The weekend flew by with the slightest bit of drizzle, but luckily, Monday came in with sunshine. You were able to steal Harry’s mail successfully and hide it in the cabinets of the lounge room, but you were disappointed because he found it within ten minutes, and probably because you made the dumb mistake to put it where all the sugar is, so that was your fault. 

On Wednesday, you were surprised to see your milk in your fridge until you remembered Harry telling you that he was probably going to steal something else of yours that doesn’t require your milk spoiling. So, you skeptically searched your room as you tried to find something that was obvious that he stole, but you saw everything in place and nothing that you knew was taken. 

With a confusing expression on your face, you continued on with your day. 

It wasn’t until after lunch when you noticed something was different when you sat in your chair. Looking around, you felt like something was off when you leaned back. Your students were chatting as the movement of the chairs slid against the floor. You gave them about ten minutes to get situated because you weren’t one of those teachers who didn’t allow your students to use the restroom after lunch because they “should’ve gone at lunch.” 

So, you sat there wondering what felt so off about sitting down as you had five more minutes left until you had to teach. But once you figured it out, you gasped, telling your students that you would be back in three minutes and that you were going next door. 

Luckily the setup of the inside of the school is one large room with big divider walls for each classroom, so you didn’t have to go outside and you could practically hear other classrooms as well. 

Stomping over to Harry’s classroom, you walked in and he was sitting on his chair with a smirk on his face as he had his hands on the back of his head, telling his students to take out a math worksheet. He had heard you tell your class that you were leaving for just a few minutes, and he immediately knew that you were headed to his class. As you walked over to his desk, he turned towards you with a sly grin. 

“Oh, hello there. To what do I owe this pleasure of you visiting me?” He said in a very obvious tone, knowing that he’s done something. 

You took a deep breath, “You stole my footrest.” He slightly turned his head to the side as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. “You know, the one under my desk?” You clarified, and he opened his mouth as he realized what footrest you meant. “Where is it?” You really didn’t want to disrupt everyone’s class looking for it, so you just asked him. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” he said, and he was really getting on your nerves.

You didn’t want to put up with him, so you didn’t answer back as you took a look around his room until you noticed that he was way too comfortable in his chair. Looking at him weirdly, you walked around the desk to where he was sitting to find his sock covered feet resting on your footrest. 

“Ugh, Harry!” You slightly pushed his chair, causing it to roll to the side a bit. 

“Isn’t this what you do? Take your shoes off when the class is working?” 

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you get to do it too,”  you said before you bent down and roughly pushed his feet off, grabbing your footrest. 

“Woah, if you wanted to get under my desk, you should’ve just said so,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, quickly getting back up and backing away from his desk.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said quietly for only him to hear as his students were distracted doing their classwork. 

“Language. See you Friday night, by the way,” he said before you made your way out of his classroom and towards yours. 

It was only Wednesday, and you thought the days couldn’t go by any slower. 

Friday rolled around, and you already knew it was going to be the longest day of the week. 

With work, and staying two hours after to wait and head to the venue to help, you already knew you were going to crash easily once you got home. And on top of it, Harry was going to be there as well, so you kept the interactions with him limited during work hours because you simply just did not want to put up with when you had a long day ahead of you. 

It wasn’t like you hated him--because you really didn’t. You tolerated and are civil with each other, and you’ve never gotten a chance to get to know him because all you two do is steal each other’s things. Besides, you really had no reason to hate him because you do the same thing to him. 

Luckily, he sensed that you didn’t really want to talk to him, so he knew to not bother you. He figured that you were having a long week, and he made it worse by stealing your footrest on Wednesday and to make matters even more worse, he bickered with you and made innuendos that you didn’t appreciate. So, ultimately he felt a bit bad for that and left you alone. 

Work seemed to go by pretty quickly, and you were already on your way to the venue; the time reading 4:30 p.m, and you hoped setting everything up didn’t take long. Did you regret signing up? Maybe as exhaustion took over you as you drove. But you know that you wouldn’t later on once you had finished decorating. Plus, you felt bad that there were only two people who signed up before you. 

The venue was about thirty minutes away from the school, and when you walked in, the conference hall was completely empty besides the uncovered tables and chairs, but luckily, it wasn’t a huge room. But there were no decorations yet or centerpieces, and you felt like it was going to take a while. Harry arrived right when you did along with Kyle and Saya. 

Mrs. Morgan had assigned you all different jobs so the work would be faster and everyone would finally go home. You were assigned to draping curtains in the entrance and on the window. Harry was in charge of carrying tables and boxes in and out of the storage room of the hotel. Kyle and Saya were placing table cloths on the tables and seat covers, along with placing centerpieces. 

Everyone was working hard for about an hour, and you were on a ladder, reaching for the top of the door frame to hang one side of the curtain. Thankfully, you decided to switch your mules from work to sneakers because you probably wouldn’t have worked as fast as you were. 

Kyle and Saya followed the hotel manager to a different storage closet to get more table cloths for the food table as Harry was still carrying chairs into the room. But you were having trouble draping the sheer curtain over the curtain rod. 

You were completely alone in the room as sweat dripped down your back from how hard and fast you’ve been working until Harry came into the room with his sleeves rolled up as he carried four chairs that were stacked on one another. You hadn’t seen him come in as you were still trying to hook the curtain, and you always didn’t realize the ladder was slowly closing in as you kept moving around. And Harry quickly put the chairs down, rushing over to you as he saw the ladder tipping and you were still working. 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as the ladder completely tipped over, causing you to fall off the ladder. You thought you were going to be met with the hard ground, but instead you were being caught in someone’s arms as you two hit the ground. Grunts came out of both of your mouths from the impact of the fall. Luckily, the ladder fell sideways rather on the both of you because that would have been a painful mess. 

“Oh my god,” you groaned, looking over and seeing Harry lying flat on his back with his eyes closed and one of his hands on his back. “Holy shit. Are you okay?!” 

Harry moved on his side to put pressure on his back as he was in a bit of a fetal position. Your body was sat against his as your back was against his stomach. 

“Fuck, that hurts,” he groaned out. 

“Harry, let me see if I can get some ice,” you were about to get up when he placed his available hand on your knee, stopping you from his touch. 

“No, don’t leave. Just…need a minute,” he said softly as his eyes were still closed. You nodded, staying in your seated position against him as you took your hand and rubbed his back. It was quite sweet, considering how you both normally acted towards each other, but you felt really bad that he was the one that had to take the pain. 

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling and remembering where he was. He sat up on his elbows, and you stood up to help him up. 

“You sure you’re okay?” You asked cautiously, not wanting him to collapse on you. 

“Yeah. Just a bit sore, but it’ll go away. Feel like I’m old and got a bad back now,” he tried to joke, hopefully lightening up the situation, making it humorous. But you were still worried as you held onto his arm to hold him up just in case. 

You scoffed amusingly, “Please. You’re thirty years old. You’re not gonna feel that until you’re maybe fifty.” Harry chuckled, telling you that you were right before you let go of his arm. “By the way, thank you for catching me. I didn’t even notice the ladder tipping over until it fully did. But I, uh, feel really bad that you had to take the fall,” you said, scratching your neck. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it. This pain will be temporary,” he brushed it off before taking a seat on one of the chairs for a moment to relax and not immediately go back to a strenuous task. 

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You said before walking away slowly, and he nodded. 

You two hadn’t been so nice or caring for each other like this, so it was definitely a new approach to it. But you didn’t mind it. Playing games with each other was fun, but you wished you had that sort of friendship where you could talk to him and not banter or bicker like a married couple because you think he was a genuinely cool and nice person, even though he really got annoying sometimes. Guess you just attracted annoying people, then. 

You took another glance at yourself in the rearview mirror to make sure your makeup and hair was okay before you got out of your car. You stood still next to your car, trying to see your reflection from the window as you fixed the top of your dress. A blush colored cami dress was looking amazing on your body with the straps crossing each other on the back with a slit on the side. You wore nude heels and dangly diamond earrings to accessorize. With your hair pulled back into a low bun, you thought you looked very nice--beautiful even. 

There weren’t many times when you got to dress up for the fun of it nor does your job require you to go full glam when going into work. But you think some of your students will love seeing you dress all pretty because they would always compliment you on your outfits. 

You walked in just on time, not wanting to be too early when no one is there or too late, but the perfect time. There were a decent amount of people already as the room was filled with teachers, staff, and some people from the school district; all celebrating the anniversary of the school. Everyone was dressed gorgeously--like you, probably having a blast wearing fancy clothes that was hanging from a hanger, waiting to be worn. 

The place looked great, and you were really happy with how everything turned out. The lights were dimmed a tad bit as LED lights were pointed towards the wall as music played softly through the speakers. 

Stephanie found you once you walked in as she took you to the bar because luckily, tonight’s event was an open bar, all thanks to Mrs. Morgan. 

“You look bangin’! That color is amazing on you,” Stephanie complimented as she hyped you up. She was practically the only person you’ve gotten really close with when you started teaching. While you were somewhat close to the other teachers, you and Stephanie hung out outside of school and gossiped your hearts away. 

“Please, you’re too kind, but thank you. You look great as well,” you said back after you did a little turn for her, causing you both to laugh as you sipped your mojito. 

You two chatted for a bit as she asked about setting everything up last night, and you told her about the incident between you and Harry. 

“See, I knew you would fall for him,” she said, making a pun out of it. 

“Ha ha, very funny. I really did feel bad for him though.” A slight frown pulled onto your face and Stephanie chuckled before you saw her brows raised. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” she said, and you turned around to find Harry in a lovely double-breasted cream colored suit and a light blue shirt under it. You try not to ogle him too much because you know that he’ll catch on and tease you about you checking him out, so you look at him quickly to find him already staring at you. 

“Evening, ladies. Already talking about me?” He smiled as his dimples popped out, making you swoon for him a tad bit more tonight, but you quickly snapped out of your thoughts.

“She was telling me about your little incident yesterday,” Stephanie said, and Harry nodded. 

“Yeah, how are you by the way? Are you still doing okay?” You asked, placing your hand on his arm before quickly pulling it away as you realized that you hadn’t asked him if he could be touched, but he smiled softly as you at the action. 

“I am, thanks for asking. I took some pain reliever medication and iced my back, so I’m fine. Just a bit sore, but all good,” he reassured, and you simply nodded, glad to hear that he was somewhat better than he looked yesterday. “I’ll be around. Gotta mingle and whatnot,” Harry said before walking away. 

After an hour of mingling and eating dinner, you were sat with Stephanie at a circle table along with Harry, Penelope or Miss Nguyen, and three other teachers who were in a deep discussion over wine. Going against your liking, Penelope was being a little too flirty with Harry, and you had no idea where this tinge of jealousy came from. You were hoping to sit next to him and Stephanie, but your plate was moved to the seat over as you went to get napkins. So now, you were on the left of Penelope instead of Harry. 

You saw her touch his arm as you did when you first arrived, but this time, she didn’t pull her arm away, and you thought he might’ve liked her arm there. With sneaking glances at the two of them as Stephanie watched some of the staff play the activities, you took a deep breath and stood up from your chair. 

“I’m going out to get some air,” you told Stephanie, not looking back to look at Harry rather wondering if he was watching you as you walked out. 

You took a step outside through the side doors of the venue that led to a balcony of the hotel. The hotel was on a hill overlooking the coast, and the sun was at its peak of saying goodbye for the day. The golden light illuminated everything around you as you felt calm, watching the sunset as you leaned against the railing before undoing your bun and letting your hair fall free. 

“Hey,” a voice from behind you said, and you quickly turned around and saw Harry standing a few feet away from you with one hand in his pocket while the other was holding a drink. 

“Hi,” you said back, turning back to the coast as Harry walked to stand beside you, watching the sunset as well. 

“S’pretty, innit?” 

“Yeah, it really is,” you responded, not turning your head to look at him, but being captivated by how the view in front of you looks. 

“You look amazing, by the way,” he complimented, and you blushed. Hard. You turned your head towards him as you caught him eyeing you up and down, and you felt intimidated. 

“You look great as well. I love your suit,” you said, hopefully to cover up your nerves. He said a thank you to you, and you turned your head back to the view as Harry continued looking at you. 

And you didn’t notice Harry looking at you the entire time as you watched the sunset. You didn’t know how entirely gorgeous you looked as the gold light was being melted onto your skin, making you look more beautiful than you already are. You also didn't know that Harry couldn’t simply stop staring at you because he was taken back and practically speechless with how the slightest bit of wind that was blowing the right way, which made your hair flow perfectly. You were the epitome of beauty, he thought, and he captured a mental picture to remember you in this moment because it was surely his favorite. 

“My ex never really liked watching the sunset,” you suddenly said, and Harry looked over at you. “I’m sorry. That was really random.” 

“No, no. It’s okay. You can talk about anything,” he encouraged. 

“Well, he never really liked watching the sunset with me. Always said that it was a waste of time and it was boring, but I don’t think so.” 

“It’s really not boring at all,” he said. 

“Yeah, I agree. But people have their own opinions. The earth deserves to be watched over.” You looked straight into the sun as it wasn’t bright enough to blind you anymore as you watched it turn into an orange tone. 

“Why did you two break up, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“We just fell out of love with each other. We were together for three years, and the last few months of our relationship, there wasn’t any love. He stopped taking me out on dates, and when I asked if he wanted to go out, he always said he was busy. I believe he never cheated on me, but he just wasn’t in love with me anymore, and I can say the same for him—I wasn’t in love with him anymore. So, we had a mature talk and figured it was best to part ways,” you explained. 

“And are you happier because of the breakup?” 

“Much happier,” you simply said, and it was the end of that conversation. 

You didn’t know why you were telling Harry about your past relationships, but there was just something about the sunset where you could be your most vulnerable self. 

After a few moments of admiring the earth and its wondrous ways, Harry spoke. 

“Do you mind doing me a favor?” He asked. 

“What’s that?” You turned your head to look at him as you asked. 

“Do you, uh, mind taking a picture of me?” He asked nervously, not knowing how you were going to react to a random question. Your brows raised as you nodded slowly. You didn’t expect him to be the type to be in front of cameras or want his picture taken, but you did it for him anyways. 

“Oh yeah, of course,” you said, and his face perked up as he smiled softly. Harry took his phone out of his pocket and opened the camera icon before handing it to you. You took several pictures of him so he would have options to choose from, but he was standing completely still as he looked into the camera. “Maybe, like…move around?” 

“What d’ya mean?” 

“I don’t know, like give me some different poses,” you said, and a soft ‘oh’ came out of his mouth before he started to stand differently, occasionally giving you a smile. 

You tried hiding your face behind his phone as you looked at him through the screen, snapping at every chance you think that’ll be a great photo turnout. But you already know that either way, the photos will come out great no matter what. 

After a few more clicks, you smiled and gave his phone back to him as you stood there, watching him scroll through the photos before typing on his phone rather quickly right after. You thought if he was sending them to someone or sending them in general, and you wondered if it was a significant other. 

Trying not to look into it too much, you turned around towards the doors, and asked him, “Do you want to head back?” He looked up from his phone, putting it away. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” he followed you through the doors and towards the room where everyone was dancing on the dance floor. Harry had immediately parted ways with you as you saw him walk towards the bar while Stephanie dragged you on the dance floor. 

You kept the going down and throwing it back very minimal as these were the people you worked with, and only stepped side to side, swaying your hips just a tad bit. 

Harry, on the other hand, had already downed three tequila shots within six minutes, and including the drinks he had before he went outside with you, he was pretty buzzed. He watched you dance with Stephanie, and chuckled at how you were restraining yourself. He thought you were adorable. The whirling thoughts of his mind when he watched you take his picture was stuck in his head. Head to toe was splashed in the golden light giving you the most goddess-like look as a slight smirk was plastered on your face as you took his picture. Yeah, you were the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

It was a strange feeling to feel like this when it's been years of plotting against each other, and he hadn’t felt like this in a long while. The thumping of his heart had told him that he was falling. Just the mere vision of looking at you had made a butterfly in his stomach appear. You just had that effect on him. And it wasn’t like he was complaining, but he was definitely terrified of that feeling. 

So, that’s why he’s had three, now four, shots of straight tequila to ease his nerves and calm his mind as he watched you on the dance floor with a fifth shot in his hand. 

The music had turned into a much slower one, and the staff that brought their staff or significant other had taken over the dance floor as you walked back to the table to sit down. Stephanie brought her husband, who she immediately dragged to the dance floor, and you watched them smile and look at each other with hearts in their eyes as they swayed. You smiled, observing their faces and how in love they looked, somewhat wishing you had that as well. You hadn’t had a serious relationship in a long while--the last one being before you started teaching. 

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to find Harry smiling down at you with his hand out. 

“Would you like to dance?” He asked. You didn’t immediately grab his hand nor did you say anything; you just looked up at him in shock that he asked you. But after a few seconds, you grabbed his hand and nodded as he led you to the dance floor. 

Once you two were facing each other, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his shoulder as he wrapped his around his waist. His hold wasn’t too high or too low, but it was placed on the right spot for you to feel comfortable, and you appreciated that. 

As you two swayed to the soft classical piano ballad music, your eyes were elsewhere; looking at the other people dancing and the people sitting to find that no one was watching you both and that didn’t matter. So, you trained your eyes towards Harry, and of course, he was already looking at you. Being under his stare was something you were somewhat used to, but when it comes down to it, it made nerves along with the flutter of your heart appear. It was as if he was looking deep into your soul, trying to figure something out, and it remains once he’s found what he’s looking for. 

“I was surprised you asked me to dance,” you said suddenly. You felt him pull you a bit closer, so your stomachs are pressing against one another, but not your chests, and your face was very close to his, making butterflies in your stomach present as you wondered if he had the same feeling. 

“Why’re so surprised?” He genuinely asked as he swayed you both in a slow circle. 

“Thought you might’ve asked Penelope to dance.” 

“Why’s that?” His brow crinkled, wondering what brought these questions to mind. 

“I mean, you were awfully close to her during dinner,” you said honestly, and Harry let out a chuckle, which you didn’t find amusing like you usually did. “What’s so funny?” 

“Are you jealous?” His face inched closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his tongue. With how fast he was downing those shots, it was slowly starting to kick in. 

“I’m not jealous. It was just an observation,” you said. 

“No, I think you’re jealous. Didn’t like seeing me give another teacher attention, huh? Just wanted to give it all to you, is that it?” He asked with a hushed tone in his voice. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was full on teasing you as you tried to ignore the arousal that was forming inside of you. 

“I’m not, okay? I was just genuinely wondering because you know, you think I’m annoying and whatnot, so I was surprised you asked me to dance,” you tried brushing it off, and Harry scoffed shaking his head. 

“You’re saying a load of bullshit right now, and you don’t even know how I feel. Can you use your mouth for something other than talking?” The words had come out like rapid fire, and he is fully blaming it on the alcohol because he would never say something like that sober. And you know he wouldn’t say something like that to you, so you found it humorous as you were a bit shocked you heard those words come out of his mouth. You looked at him with your brows raised and your jaw slightly open as it somewhat curved into a smile as you tried not to laugh. Harry hadn’t said anything else, neither had you, but you did give him a shoulder shrug as if it was telling him ‘we’ll see.’ 

The song had ended, and you and Harry made your way off the dance floor and to the table. It was nearing 8:30, which means the party was almost over in thirty minutes. So, you decided to leave a bit early to grab some dessert on your way home since you didn’t really like the selection at the party. 

“Think I’m gonna head home now,” you told Stephanie who made her way to the table. 

“Aww, okay. We’re gonna head out soon too. But drive safe and I’ll see you on Monday.” You two hugged each other, telling each other that you both had fun tonight before grabbing your clutch. 

“Uh, I’ll see you on Monday,” you told Harry. 

“I’ll walk out with you. I’m heading home as well,” he said, and you nodded your head as he took a last sip of his drink before you two headed outside of the hotel. 

The air was chilly as the sound of the coast was heard under the starry night that was above. You shivered slightly, turning to Harry as he was taking his suit jacket off and holding it out for you to wear it. 

“Oh, it’s okay,” you waved off. 

“Please, I insist,” he said, and you nodded before turning around, facing your back towards him as he slipped his cream colored suit jacket on your shoulders. 

The piece of clothing was warm and smelled like his usual tobacco vanille. As you were wearing it, you felt a sense of comfort, like Harry himself was hugging you, and you cherished the feeling of it, even if it wasn’t the real thing. 

“I’m parked over here. I can drive you-” you pointed to the left of the parking lot. 

“Oh no, it’s okay. I took an Uber anyway. Just gonna wait here for a few,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, blinking a few times from the bright screen. He was clearly buzzed, and couldn’t really think straight, so you took his phone out of his hands. 

“Let me drive you home. It’ll give me a piece of mind, yeah?” You offered, and by the look of your face, you were persistent, so he nodded, following you to your car. 

You started driving down the hill and onto the main street before you said, “Is it okay if I stop by the Sweet Treats before I drop you off?” You asked, referring to the dessert place about two miles away from your place. 

“Yeah, of course. S’bit early, so you can go wherever,” he replied as he leaned his head on the shoulder of the seat, clearly a bit sleepy. You let out a chuckle as you continued driving as Harry drifted to sleep. 

When Harry woke up, he looked around out the windows and found himself alone in the car until he saw you quickly walking towards your car with his suit jacket still around you. And all he could think was how great you look in his clothes. 

“Ah, you’re awake. I got you a cupcake and two cookies. Didn’t know what kind of flavor you like, so I just guessed and got you chocolate,” you said once you got in the car and handed him his box of sweets. 

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you,” he smiles as he opened the box, and the sweetness of the desserts filled his nose. 

“Now, I’m going to need directions to your place,” you said as you started the car. 

Harry navigated you to his house, telling you to turn right here and turn left there. But you needed to make sure, asking him, “Wait, right here?” 

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes as you were driving slow so you don’t miss the turn. And luckily, there were no cars behind you. 

Once you finally parked in front of his house, you noticed that he didn’t leave that far from you because you’ve been in this neighborhood before as your cousin lives a few houses down; it was probably a five minute drive to your place. 

“Thank you for the ride, and the dessert,” he said, turning his head towards you, and making no effort to get out of the car yet. 

“You’re welcome. Couldn’t let you be in an Uber while intoxicated--just doesn’t sit well with me,” you said honestly. Harry nodded, telling you that he appreciated it as he looked at you deeply.

“Also, about what I said when we were dancing--I’m sorry about that. That was out of line of me,” he apologized, feeling quite embarrassed from his words, and knowing that he was going to think about what he said and beat himself up over it after you leave. 

You let out a breathy chuckle, “No worries. It was quite funny. But maybe I could use my mouth for something other than talking.”

“W-What?” He gulped nervously, slightly turned on from your teasing. 

“Maybe one day you’ll find out,” you said with a sly smirk on your face as you watched Harry scratch his neck and run his hand through his hair nervously. “Goodnight, Harry,” you bid him goodbye, and that was his cue to get out of your car already. It wasn’t like you wanted to kick him out, but you wanted him to think about your words for the night. 

And since it was still too early to go to sleep, maybe you’ll think about his words to.

It was Monday, a month later after the anniversary party, and you had Harry’s mail in your hand as you decided to stuff it into your filing cabinets that hold future worksheets and your students’ progress. 

It wasn’t until lunch when you were having the pasta you made the night prior as you watched a fashion competition on Netflix when you saw Harry stomp into your room. 

“Where’s my mail?” He asked immediately, not bothering to say hi to you. 

Ever since the party, your moods had changed towards each other. Of course, you both still messed with each other and annoyed one another, but the mood and energy between you two was different. And you didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. 

“Gotta find it, Mr. Styles,” you said as you took a bite of your food as you eyed him. You could tell he was beginning to get frustrated with you, but you didn’t see a reason to stop because it’s the same way with you when he hides your stuff. 

“Just hand it over. I’m not in the mood to put up with this right now,” he rolled his eyes as he huffed. 

“Now, those aren’t the rules. You made me find it until you just laughed and pointed at me, so now you have to-” 

“I swear to god, just give me my damn mail!” He said in a loud tone, not technically yelling, but enough for you to stop talking and finally notice how angry he looked. “Fuck, just give me my fuckin’ mail, so I could get out of here,” he added, waiting for you to make an effort to give him his mail, but you were too in shock by his words and tone that you didn’t move. “Well?” He said, arms crossed, and you snapped out of your thoughts and got up, walking over to your filing cabinet. 

Once you handed him his mail, he immediately snatched it, flipping through it as he walked out of your classroom with no thank you, and you swore that you heard him mutter ‘fuckin’ annoying’ as he walked out causing your stomach to drop. 

You sat back down in your chair, pushing your glass container away and turned off your phone as you took deep breaths, trying not to make a big deal out of it. But of course it was a big deal to you. You had thought that your relationship with Harry was doing okay, and you weren’t at each other’s throats, but that hope had all washed away within a minute as he raised his voice with you as if you were a little kid. 

Normally, you wouldn’t take bullshit like that, but this one seemed to hit differently as your eyes started to tear up and your hands started to shake. You got up from your seat, fast walking to the staff restroom before you let it all out. Your tears made its way down your face as you covered your mouth as muffled sobs echoed through the tiled walls. 

A week later, you headed straight to your classroom, deciding that you weren’t going to move Harry’s mail around. 

There was an awkward tension between you two, and Harry’s at fault for it. He knew that he shouldn’t have raised his tone at you because it was completely unnecessary, and he knew better than that. He ultimately felt really bad for talking to you like that, and he didn’t even say please in a calm manner, which he should have. 

Last Monday when he got back to his desk, he immediately knew that he was wrong for how he spoke, so he had gotten up and walked back to your classroom, only to find you already headed for the staff restroom. And he hoped you weren’t crying, but he had a feeling you were. 

After that day, he had gone into your room to try and apologize the entire week, but you would either be talking to a student or avoiding him as you saw him enter your classroom, so you exited, saying an excuse just to be out of his presence. He frowned as he watched you walk away, but it was very understandable and he didn’t blame you whatsoever. 

Now, after a week of pondering what to say to you, Harry walked over to his mailbox to see all of the envelopes in his box. With a small frown, he turned towards Nina who was watching him, and he saw her shrug as she continued doing her work. He walked to your classroom to find you on your laptop, round tortoise framed glasses sat on your nose, and he thought you looked absolutely adorable. Sitting on the side of one of the students’ desks in the front row, you didn’t even bother to look up at him. 

“Hey,” he said. “Can we talk?” 

“About what?” You asked, still not looking at him, but obviously knowing what he wanted to talk about. 

“Please, look at me?” He pleaded, and he saw you take a deep breath in, taking your glasses off before looking at him. “I-I’m sorry. For last week. It was so unnecessary to talk to you like that and I regret it so much. You didn’t deserve that at all.” 

You nodded, “You’re right. I didn’t deserve it. But can you explain to me why you talked to me like that?” 

“I was waiting on something from my cousin back home. He had sent me some stickers that he made for the class, and I really wanted to give my students them already. And when I couldn’t find my mail, I got frustrated and annoyed, and I took it out on you, which I shouldn’t have,” Harry explained, and your face remained neutral. 

“You know, I would’ve eventually given it to you if you would’ve asked nicely, but you raised your voice and called me annoying when this is the kind of game we play. And it’s not an excuse to talk to me the way you did,” you said sternly, but also calmly. Harry felt like he was a kid getting lectured, which he thought this is probably how you looked like when your students got in trouble, and he thought that it was great how you’re so calm. 

“Yeah, it’s no excuse whatsoever. I feel really bad, and I’m really sorry,” he offered a small but sad smile as you looked him in the eyes to see if he meant it, and thankfully, you didn’t find a spec of lie. 

“I forgive you,” you said, and Harry lets out a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean you go around talking to me or anyone like that ever again when they don’t deserve it,” you added. 

“Yeah, of course. It was just that moment, and I’m sorry it was you. But thank you for forgiving me,” he beamed gratefully and you nodded. “But just know that I think you’re more than annoying,” he confessed suddenly. 

“Do you?” You asked calmly, but on the inside, your heart was racing. 

“Yeah, way more than annoying. I mean I’ve known you for years, and I see you everyday. And I can’t believe this is the time when I’m about to confess this right now, but…” he took a deep breath before saying, “I like you. I really do.” Harry pursed his lips as you were looking at him with a shock expression, but your eyes were saying something else. 

They were almost telling him that you were happy to hear those words, but you didn't expect it and it was shocking to hear because of how sudden and how things escalated so quickly, but there was a hint of sparkle in your eyes, and for that, he remained hopeful. 

“You, uh, you like me?” You asked, wanting to make sure you’re not dreaming, but also wanting to hear it again. 

“I do. I like you. And I know it’s crazy to say it because the way we acted and treated each other seemed otherwise, but lately I’ve just been thinking about you nonstop and it’s driving me crazy,” he said with a small smile, still remaining hopeful.

“Harry-” 

“I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he interrupted. “Because I mean who would like someone that messes and bickers with you every chance they get. But maybe that was the reason why I did it.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously. 

“I guess… when I first met you, I thought you were way out of my league. And I know I put this front up to seem like I’m intimidating, but I’m not! I was actually intimidated by you,” he said honestly, and your eyes widened because you thought it was insane that this handsome man in front of you was intimidated by you. “And I kind of just wanted a reason for you to talk to me and see if we had this bond, and for some reason, I did a childish thing and stole your stapler-” 

“I knew it! You kept insisting that it was yours, but all of sudden ‘yours’ was gone and mine suddenly appeared,” you said excitedly causing him to laugh, which of course, made you join him as well. 

“Yeah, it was kind of immature, wasn’t it? But you started taking my things as well, and I was happy with that because at least we were interacting and talking y’know?” You nodded with a smile on your face. “And I may have acted cocky and whatnot, but I was just scared. I haven’t felt like this in a while, so I hid my feelings, and I couldn’t even believe myself when I confessed that I liked you, but I just needed to say it.”

“Harry, you know you should’ve just told me. But I get where you’re coming from. I was actually really intimidated by you, and I couldn’t believe I walked into the wrong classroom and practically trespassed,” you chuckled at the memory that was so long ago, but it was still so fresh in your mind. 

“It’s okay. You can trespass any time,” he joked. 

“But as time went by, I tried to deny my feelings for you, and then we started talking and it was less banter and more teasing, I knew I couldn’t push it away, so I accepted it,” you said, and he nodded his head with a look as if he’s trying to figure something out. 

“So, what you’re saying is…” he said, wanting to hear the full thing loud and clear. 

You laughed before you said, “I like you too, Harry.” 

The brightest smile was plastered on Harry’s face; dimples popping out with the crinkle by his eye present. You’d never thought you’d be the reason Harry would smile like that, let alone at you, but you weren’t complaining at all. His smile was contagious as you both let out giddy giggles, matching each other’s beaming grins. It was also beautiful as his cheeks had a tint of pink to it while running his finger on the tip of his nose, trying to hide his happiness. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on your door, turning both of your attentions to it, and Harry went to answer it since he was closer. When he opened the door, he found a small boy at your classroom doorstep, and you got up, walking over to your student. 

“Dawson? What’s up, buddy? Why’re you here so early?” You bent down as you talked to him, and you noticed that he had a sad frown on his face. “Are you okay?” 

“My mom dropped me off here early, so I’m here,” he said sadly, looking down at the floor. School started in about forty five minutes, which was usually too early to drop kids off as parents started dropping them off about twenty minutes before school. 

“Okay, that’s completely fine. Come in, yeah?” You stood on your feet, and moved out of the way to let him inside of the classroom. 

“I was wondering if I could talk to you?” He said once he put his backpack on his assigned chair. “You said that we could talk to you about anything, right?” 

“Yes, of course. Anything you like,” you said, reassuring him with a smile, and he nodded. 

“I’m going to head back to my classroom,” Harry said, and you nodded before Dawson spoke up. 

“No, wait!” He called out, and Harry stopped walking, giving your student his full attention. Dawson turned to you and asked, “Can Mr. Styles stay? He’s really nice when we have our buddy classroom days.”

You smiled at the young boy, “Of course he can--that is, if he can. Anything to make you comfortable.” 

“I’d be happy to stay for you, Dawson,” Harry offered him a smile as you walked over to the table in the back of the classroom that’s used for group work and teacher-students discussions. 

You sat at the octagon table, Dawson sitting on your right and Harry sitting on your left. You had completely turned your body towards Dawson as your back was facing Harry. 

“Dawson, since this is the first time we are speaking to each other one on one,” you turned around towards Harry, and softly grinned, and you turned back towards Dawson. “Well, two on one. But just know that whatever you say will stay between the three of us, and it will not leave this classroom, okay?” 

“Okay,” Dawson said softly. 

“Now, what’s on your mind?” 

Dawson began to tell you and Harry about how he feels neglected by his mother because of the reason that she’s starting to drop him off earlier than normal and not coming home until later as his aunt picks him up. He then told you two that he just feels a bit sad that he never gets to see his mom that much anymore, and how his father is rarely around, so he was quite torn. 

You felt your heart sink as you listened to him, making sure to not interrupt him as you and Harry listened to his words intently. 

“Okay, I’m done,” Dawson said, eyes a bit swollen from the tears that had fallen out of his eyes, and Harry got up to grab him a tissue box. 

“Dawson,” you started, “I’m sorry you have to go through that. Have you told your mom how you felt?” He shook his head as aggressively wiped his face with the tissue. 

“Never see her anymore.” 

“What about when she drops you off at school?” 

“I’m always eating breakfast in the car, so I never get a chance to,” he placed his elbow on the table as he leaned his face against his hand, while the other hand traced the outline of the polished wood. 

“What about your aunt? Have you told her anything?” Harry pitches in, and you slightly turn your head towards him, gratefully he’s being involved. 

Dawson’s face changed to a much lighter one as if he had a realization to what Harry had said. 

“Oh, I-I haven’t told her anything.” 

“Maybe if you’re comfortable, you can talk to her when she picks you up, and I’m sure she’ll tell your mom if you’re not comfortable doing so,” Harry said, and Dawson nodded in agreement. 

“I want you to know that, your mother not being there for you at the moment or your father not being in the picture does not have to do with you. Don’t think that it has to do with you, okay? You’re good enough and you’re an amazing person that I’m so lucky to have you in my class,” you said, emphasizing your words so it was stuck in his mind. 

“You’re a great student, and my class and I are happy we’re that we’re classroom buddies,” Harry adds with a bright and reassuring smile on his face that lightened the mood, and added a smile on Dawson’s face as well. 

“C-Can I give you two a hug?” Dawson asked, standing up from his chair. 

“Of course, come here,” you scooted your chair back, opening your arms as you welcomed him into your arms. 

You knew that he really needed this hug by how tight he was hugging you, but you didn’t mind, glad to comfort him for as long as he needed as you rubbed his back as he buried his face into your shoulder. Once he let go, you rubbed his shoulders for good measure before he walked around you and over to Harry. 

Harry widely opened his arms before Dawson placed himself between them as they both gave each other big hugs. You heard Harry whisper how proud he was of the boy in his arms, and your heart swooned at the sight, making you blush and practically have hearts in your eyes as you witnessed their moment. 

There was a moment when Harry looked up from Dawson’s shoulder to look at you. A hint of gleam sparkled in both of your eyes as you looked at each other. Although you’ve just confessed your feelings for each other, you knew that this was going to be completely special. 

You were sitting on the small couch that was in the back corner of the room. You were quite proud of this area of your classroom as you wanted to make it a comfortable place for your students to read or take a break at as you decorated it with a cream colored couch, a floral rug, and hung fairy lights along the wall. 

Sometimes you would take a seat on the couch during lunch when you were getting tired of sitting on your chair where your desk was, so it was a nice change up. 

With your container filled with your lunch on your lap as you looked down at your laptop, sat beside you and earphones in your ears, you saw Harry walk in with his lunch in his hands, a beaming grin on his face once he saw how comfy you looked. 

“Hey,” he greeted, taking a seat next to you on the couch. He completely turned his body towards you with his arm on the back of the couch as you did as well. 

“Hi,” you said with a smile. “What’s for lunch?” 

“Salmon with some veggies. I made it last night,” he said proudly, and you looked at his meal and ooh’ed. “Try some?” 

“Course I will. But you also just want me to boost your ego even more because I’m sure it’s good,” you teased. 

“Maybe. Open up f’me, yeah?” He said, cutting a piece of salmon and sticking a piece of green bean on his fork before bringing the fork up to your mouth. 

You tried not to think of his words so literally as there have been many times he would talk as if he was in the bedroom, not that you know anything about what he’s like in the sheets nor how you know his lips feel against yours. But you’re not complaining about his word choices; they do get you a bit turned on, but you simply couldn’t do anything about it. 

With your mouth open, he fed you a bite of his lunch and a ‘mm’ was heard from you as you chewed. 

“Wow, that’s really good,” you complimented the chef as you wiped your mouth with a napkin. 

“Well, thank you very much, darling,” he said, and you blushed. 

It’s been a month since you and Harry have known how you two feel about each other, and it was full of two days out of the week, eating lunch together. He had stumbled into your classroom one day, and asked if you wanted to have lunch together, and you said yes. So, lunch dates stuck, whether it’d be your classroom or his because he also has a comfy corner in his classroom with a record player next to the couch. When you two didn’t feel like staying inside, you would grab a bite to eat together. It also definitely made finding a place to eat much easier since you two found out you were both pescatarians. 

The mood is definitely different with each other as you two have slowly gotten to know one another as you tell each other about your childhood, past stories, interests, etc. You already knew that he was such a kind person, despite the bickering, but truly talking to him had confirmed your assumptions. 

Within the month had also made you earn a pet name from him. From your past relationships, you were always called babe (along with some nicknames from inside jokes), which in all honesty, you never really liked; it was a generic pet name from a significant other and it was an okay pet name. But hearing the word name ‘darling,’ especially from Harry, it was like butter. The name rolled off of his tongue, and you caved in as you continuously looked at his lips right after, wanting him to call you that multiple times. 

“I know my lunch isn’t all that interesting to feed you, but we can share a pie I made earlier this week if you’d like?” You said, looking down at your food as you only had a sandwich with avocado, tomatoes, and lettuce. 

“Sounds good,” he smiled before taking another bite of his delicious lunch. 

After a few minutes of talking about funny stories that happened during class and upcoming assignments, you changed the subject and nervously asked him a question that has been on your mind. 

“So, I was wondering…” you started, but trailed off as nerves crept up your skin. 

“That’s always interesting,” he teased. 

“Say, how about we go on a date? Like a real and official date?” You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and you saw a smirk slowly spreading onto his face as he blushed a bit. 

“Are you asking me out?” He was completely flattered and loved how you made the effort to ask him because he’s been thinking about it for an entire month, but was too nervous to do so. 

“Answer the question,” you chuckled. 

“I’m so flattered you're asking me. Y’know, really boosts my ego, let me tell you,” he stalled as he laughed, and you playfully rolled your eyes. 

When you had thought he was a kind guy, despite the bickering and being annoying with one another, the annoying Harry was still there. 

“Let me deflate your ego then, and take it back,” you joked, and his face immediately went down. His beaming smile as he teased and joked was gone and was replaced by a frown. 

“Hey, no. Don’t take it back. I was just messing with you,” he said softly, making you giggle from the change of moods he just went through. 

“Then answer the question, you big baby.” 

“Would love to go on a date with you. Of course I would,” he finally answered, and his smile, once again, was present. He reached over to hold your hand as his thumb caressed your skin. “I’ve been wanting to ask you since last month, but it was always a bad time or I would get nervous and come into your room to ask you a completely different question.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet. No need to be nervous anymore. But now I’m noticing that those days you came into my classroom, you always acted strange, but I brushed it off since this is so new and fresh still,” you explain, and he let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah, those were the times when I was supposed to ask you on a date. But I’m glad you asked me, and I would absolutely love to go,” he smiled, still hand in hand with you. 

“I’m happy you said yes. I was wondering if you’d like to come over? I’ve been dying to try this new recipe out. It’s a Thai Coconut Curry rice, and I got it off YouTube, and I was watching it late at night and just wanted to make-” you paused, noticing Harry looking at you funny, but he was really just admiring how you’re just adorable when you ramble about things you’re passionate about. “I mean, if you think it’s too soon, I can look for a restaurant if-” 

Your idea of inviting him over had immediately been thrown out the window because he was looking at you funny, and was probably thinking that it was definitely too soon to be at each other’s houses, which you now see. But you didn’t know Harry was just simply adoring the way you talk. 

“No, no. I’d love to come over if you’d still have me. And I’d love to try that dish out,” he reassured you. 

“Really? It’s not too soon?” You asked, wanting to make sure he was okay with it. 

“Yes, I’m sure. And there’s no real timeline in how people should do things when they’re in a relationship. So, we’re going at whatever pace we both want,” he said, and you took in his words, thinking he was completely right. 

For the rest of your lunch breaks, you both scheduled a date and time, which was going to be this Saturday at 7 p.m, and as you suggested that time and day, you watched Harry look up as if he was thinking if he was available that day before he agreed to those suggestions. 

This was going to be the first date you’ve had in a long while, but you were excited knowing that it was with Harry.

It was a brutal four days of waiting for date night to finally arrive, and you’ve never been so happy until Saturday. 

You had barely gotten any sleep due to your thoughts racing on what to talk to him about and what you should wear, but you managed to get about seven hours of sleep, which was really well considering how late you stayed up. 

Saturday morning, you decided to wake up at eight a.m to go on a run. You had so much energy inside of you, despite waking up, and you needed to let it all out of you so you’re not too overly excited. So, you thought a good run would exhaust you for a few hours. 

You ran around your neighborhood and on the main road for a good two hours. You just had so many things on your mind that you were thinking that you lost track of time as your legs continued on as you were in a daze. 

It was a beautiful day. Although there were a bit of clouds, the sun was out and shining. Thankfully, not at a brutal temperature where you couldn’t go out for a run. But it was the perfect weather for the morning. 

You got back to your house at around 10 a.m, immediately heading for the kitchen for a glass of water. The  coldness streamed down your throat, making you sigh in relief as exhaustion took over you. With tiredness settling over you, you knew that you needed to shower before anything else as sweat was dripping down your back, making your shirt stick to your skin, so you made your way to the shower, stripping down as the warm water hit your skin as you washed off your morning run. 

By 12 p.m, you had lunch and caught up on some grading; being very proud and impressed all your students did really well on the assigned homework. After grading papers, you decided to take a quick nap before you had to go out and get some groceries for tonight’s dinner, and the last thing on your mind before you were lulled into sleep from your run, was how a particular man you were excited to see at night. 

Once you’ve woken up and gotten groceries, buying plenty of spices, veggies, and a Thai curry paste, it was 4 p.m, making you right on time with the schedule you had in your head. You started chopping the veggies before you sautéed them to a beautiful golden brown as the sizzle of the pan brought music to your ears. 

You had a show playing in the midst of cooking that you’ve watched two hour long shows that you didn’t realize the time was now six p.m, meaning you’d have to get ready. As you walked to your room, you heard the splatter of liquid hitting the ground outside, so you looked out your window, seeing the sky had turned grey as rain fell down. 

Quickly, you grabbed your phone, opening your message up with Harry before you typed: (bold) started raining hard just now! Be safe when driving, and see you soon! You hit send before opening up Spotify, playing ABBA to hype yourself up as you sang along while getting ready. 

You opted for a minimalistic makeup look since you were just at home, and a pair of black cropped flared trousers with a nice white blouse. You looked yourself in the mirror and felt satisfied with your look, giving yourself a smile before you took a deep breath as nerves were catching up to you. Checking your phone, the time read 6:55 and no text back from Harry, which you assumed he was getting ready or on his way. 

Keeping yourself busy, you checked on the dish you were making that was on low heat as it simmered, and wiping down the counter and fixing the throw pillows are your couch. Your tasks didn’t take that long, about seven minutes in total, as it had already passed 7 p.m. 

He would arrive any minute, you thought. 

But you thought wrong. 

You had waited thirty minutes before you sent him another text asking if he was on his way, but later on you got nothing. Worriedly, you tried not to let your mind think the worst, but it was difficult not to because he wasn’t answering his phone whatsoever and the weather was horrible. 

As you waited another hour and a half with a glass of wine sitting in front of you, you were starting to get angry. How could he stand you up and not call you? You had thought you two were doing really well, and he seemed to want to go on a date with you, so why would he change his mind so quickly? 

It was 9 p.m when you decided to call it a night a bit earlier than you planned, so you placed the food you made in a container and washed the pot before grabbing the plates and utensils you placed on the dining table, and putting them away. The entire time, you were silent as disappointment and an upsetting feeling hit you. You really tried not to cry as you did your normal skin care routine as if it was a normal night, but it wasn’t. 

But when your head hit your pillows, the disappointment had settled, making you release your tears, hating that you’re going to bed feeling the complete opposite as you did when you woke up, 

The night was slow as you watched the night from your bed, looking out at the window. It was most likely slow because you couldn’t sleep—only getting about three hours of sleep as you were woken up by the sun at six a.m. 

It wasn’t until about nine when you decided to get out of bed to start the day. You didn’t really have anything planned, but if you were to stay in bed, then you would continue being sad that your date didn’t show up. 

You were waiting for your coffee to brew when you heard your doorbell go off, grabbing your attention as you looked towards your door. You then looked down, noticing that you were wearing a flowy shirt with your pajama pants. Shrugging to yourself, you decided to walk to the door, not caring who’s behind it as you think that it may be your sister or cousin stopping by in the morning as they sometimes did. 

But you were completely wrong. 

It was the person who was supposed to be at your house last night just as he’s stood on your doorstep, but it’s the morning after, which doesn’t make it any better. 

You scoffed, shaking your head as if you couldn’t believe it. 

“You’re a bit late to dinner, don’t you think?” You immediately tell him as your words came out as an obvious tone. 

Harry expected those kinds of words to come out of you once you opened the door. He knew that you had just woken up, and it wasn’t smart that you were already in such a bad mood. Looking down at your pajama outfit, he tried not to let himself get too distracted by the way your nipples hardened under your white shirt that poked out due to the warmth of your house colliding with the coldness that is the outside. 

“I can explain-”

“Seems like you’re always explaining, huh?” You stressed, huffing as you were closing the door, but he quickly placed his hand on it, stopping it from closing him out. 

“No, please! I swear I have a good reason,” he pleaded. You looked him in the eye, and saw a hint of sadness, like he really just needed to explain it to you. 

“Y’know if you didn’t want to go out with me, you could’ve just told me that. Didn’t need to stand me up and have me wait for hours with a home cooked meal,” you opened the door a bit wider, but not moving so you could let him in. Instead, you crossed your arms as he stood at your doorstep. 

“I’m sorry. I did want to go out with you. But there was something I needed to do,” he said softly, looking down. 

“And you couldn’t even think to call me?” 

“I know I should’ve. I feel horrible, but my daughter needed my help, so I just couldn’t,” he confessed. Harry was really holding that in for a while, and he sighed in relief once he said the word. He noticed your change of face as it softens; you were taken back, and part of you was shocked because of how off guard that was. 

“D-Daughter?” 

“Yeah. I have a six year old daughter. She’s in the first grade with Mrs. Monet,” he confirmed with a small nod. He was really nervous telling you as his hands shook and his heart pounded, not knowing how you would take his news. 

“How did I not know this?” You said, more to yourself than asking Harry. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just…I didn’t know how you would take it, so I refrained from telling you,” he apologized. And he did notice that it was like he was apologizing to you a lot (the other time was from when he raised his voice at you); it wasn’t like he had trouble expressing his words or needs to say something, he just needed a minute to gather his thoughts and wait for how other people react to what he has to say. 

“Harry, I teach the third grade where I absolutely adore my students, so I should love kids in general. I’m gonna take the news well,” you said more lightly, and your words made Harry’s shoulders drop as he relaxed a bit more. “What’s her name?” You asked as your anger with him had completely flew out the door, excited to hear all about her. 

“Her name is Bella Anne,” he smiled as he looked down. You wondered why he was always looking down as if he was a shy kid, but you brushed it off until he spoke again. “I know it’s a lot to take in and I still have to explain what happened, and it may be too soon to others, but again, we’re on our own timeline…” 

“What are you trying to say?” You asked curiously. 

“Would you like to meet her?” He asked nervously, and a big smile was placed on your face as you excitedly nodded your head and said yes. “So, would right now be too soon?” 

Your eyes widened, “Like right now?” 

“Yeah, she’s actually right here,” Harry looked down and averted his eyes slightly towards the side, right next to the door frame as he brought his hand out. And that was when you knew why he was always looking down so subtly. 

The little girl wearing blue denim overalls, a white t-shirt with a tan coat over along with some white sneakers, held her father’s hand as she looked up at you with her green eyes; the same as Harry’s. Your eyes immediately sparkle as you look at her, bending down so you’re eye level with her. 

“Hi, Bella. It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled at her as you greeted her. She shyly smiled as she waved at you before looking up at Harry causing you to look up at him as well to see what he had to say. 

“Go on, bub. Ask her what you wanted to ask,” he shook her hand in encouragement as Bella looked back at you. 

“Have you had breakfast?” Bella finally spoke, and your heart flutters at how cute you think her voice is. 

“I actually haven’t had breakfast yet. Why do you ask?” 

“Because we brought breakfast for you!” She let go of Harry’s hand before she bent down to pick up the paper bag, smiling as she held as much as she could up. You gasped, placing your hand on your cheek from the thoughtful gesture. 

“Well, I’ll only eat the food on one condition,” you proposed. Bella’s face dropped as she waited for you to tell her what that condition was, glancing up at Harry quickly before looking back at you. “You two have to join me for breakfast.” 

With that, her face lifted once again as she beamed at you and quickly said an okay. You opened the door and moved out of the way so Harry and Bella could walk in. Bella skipped into your house with no hesitation as Harry called out for her, but you told him that it was okay. 

“You didn’t need to do this,” he told you, feeling bad that he hasn’t even told you the full story of what had happened last night, and you being the angel that you are, openly invited both of them into your house when you had every right to slam the door in his face. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk later, but for now, let’s eat? I got coffee ready,” you said, brushing it off, and he nodded, still knowing that the conversation needed to happen. 

He followed you to the dining table where Bella had already taken the food out of the bag. She sat there proud of her contribution, and Harry said ‘good job’ and ‘thank you’ to her as he always did when she helped set the table. You got three plates from the cabinet and utensils from the drawer; the same ones you set from last night, but this time, with a plus one. 

You and Harry opened the containers of food as there were various breakfast dishes for the three of you to share. 

“So, Bella. What’s your favorite movie?” You asked, wanting to get to know her better. 

“I like Mamma Mia! That’s one of my favorite movies, but the next one would have to be The Princess and the Frog!” 

You gasped, “Mamma Mia is my favorite movie too! And The Princess and the Frog is an excellent choice.” Bella nodded, agreeing with you. 

Harry watched the two of you interact; talking about all of your interests and dislikes, most Harry already knew about, so he sat back and ate as he thought the sight before him was the most precious thing he’s witnessed. He’s noticed Bella’s eyes gleam as she talked her heart out, and how you gave her your full attention when she did. And he thought that the interaction and connection was so important to him when he introduced a potential love interest to his daughter. The bond between you and Bella wasn’t like anything he had seen before, and he was grateful it was with you. 

After an hour of talking at the table, Harry told Bella it was okay if she wanted to play on her iPad for a bit, and she nodded her head before asking you if it was okay. 

“Of course you can, sweet,” you said, giggling a bit because she felt the need to ask you, but you thought it was sweet; the pet name completely slipped out as if it were natural for you to say it, but you think it really suits her, and by the way her eyes lit up when you called her that, you think she likes it as well. 

Bella opened her backpack, grabbed her iPad out, before walking to Harry, whispering to him. 

“Go on and ask her,” he said to her before she walked around the table to you. 

“Do you think I can get the WiFi password please?” She asked politely, smiling to yourself as kids nowadays know so much of technology from a very young age. 

“Of course,” you said before she unlocked her iPad. 

You noticed her wallpaper, all too familiar because you were the one who took the picture. It was a picture of Harry in front of the sunset with his mouth open as he smiled with his two hands up, throwing peace signs at the camera. 

“I like how you put your wallpaper as your daddy,” you complimented, looking up at Harry as he blushed. 

“Me too! He went to this party type of thing, and I told him to take a picture in front of the beach!” She beamed. 

“Yeah, bub. She was there,” Harry pitched in. 

Bella suddenly gasped loudly, “Are you the pretty teacher that took his picture and bought us cupcakes?!” She asked excitedly. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. That would be me,” you said as you nervously chuckled. 

“Thank you! Those cupcakes were so good!” She thanked you, remembering how good those cupcakes tasted, and you told her that you were glad that you liked them. 

After you typed in your WiFi password, you told Bella that she could sit on the couch in the living area. 

“Twenty minutes, okay?” Harry called out as she walked away. 

“Okay!” Her soft voice yelled back as she took a seat on the couch. 

Your head turned towards Harry as he turned to you as well. Both of you had a moment of silence as you two looked at each with a soft and admiring look. Things were way different now as you now know Harry has a daughter, but in all honesty, you don’t mind it whatsoever. You’ve managed to adore that little girl in a matter of an hour and a half, and you think she’s the most beautiful little girl ever. 

“So the pretty teacher, huh? I liked her wallpaper,” you said with a mischievous grin, and Harry snickered. 

“Yeah, I kind of underexaggerated--should’ve said ‘the gorgeous teacher that I like who took the wallpaper,’” he flirted, and you raised your brows as you blushed, thinking that was incredibly smooth of him. After a minute of thinking how to go about this conversation, you spoke up.

“Do you want to tell me about last night?” You asked, and Harry nodded. 

“Bella was a bit in a bad mood from the morning she woke up. Couldn’t really do anything to please her, so I was pretty frustrated because she couldn’t really explain what was happening to her, just threw a tantrum while holding her head, and then I figured out that she had a headache, and that’s no fun,” he explained, and you nodded as he said so. “It was literally hours of crying nonstop for hours. The only time she stopped crying was when I gave her something to eat,” he chuckled. 

“Everyone stops being pouty after some food,” you joked. 

“She did for a bit, but then it was right back to crying. My mum came over because she was supposed to watch her while I was with you, and usually her Nan would cheer her up, but not this time. After a few hours of trying to comfort her, she started becoming clingy, and when I would leave her side, she would just start crying. By this point, I was just exhausted, so I held her as she slept, which then resulted in me sleeping, also thinking I would wake up just in time, but waking up at midnight.” 

The look on his face was a disappointing one as he couldn’t believe he missed the first official date, and if you were to forgive him, he’d make it up to you with every date you would give him. 

“I understand, H. I can imagine being a single parent is hard. At least, I hope you’re single,” you tried lightening up the moods. 

“Yeah, definitely single,” he confirmed with a smirk.

“Well, maybe not for long,” you teased at the fact of becoming his girlfriend sooner or later, and his heart started to race. 

“Oh yeah?” He smirked. “Is that what you’re thinking?” 

“Yeah. Are you?” 

“I’ve been thinking about it, darling,” he responded honestly, glad to know you’re on the same page. 

He could possibly ask right now, knowing you feel the same way about him as he does you, but with not showing up for the date and practically throwing having a daughter at you, it wasn’t the right time. He wanted it to be special, not during a time when he was explaining why he screwed up. 

“Good. I’m happy we’re thinking the same thing.” 

“Me too.” 

There was a moment of quietness between you two, and the only thing that was heard was Bella’s game that she was playing on her iPad and the thumping of both of your hearts. Harry checked the time on his phone, realizing that he had to leave. 

“What are your plans for today?” He asked. 

“Just clean up around here, and perhaps go to the farmers market before they close.” 

“Sounds lovely. The weather’s nice after all that raining last night,” he said, and you agreed. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t here though.” 

“Harry, stop apologizing. Bella’s your priority and I totally understand.” He sighed deeply before nodding his head. 

“Say, how about this: bring me that lovely dish you cooked yesterday for lunch tomorrow because I would love to try it, and this time, you come over to my house on Saturday for our date? I’ll cook you dinner,” he suggested. 

The corners of your lips perked up as you nodded, “I’d like that.” 

“Great. But we’ve got to go to my sister’s house right now. Can I help you with the dishes really quick before we leave?” Your face softened even more, thinking of how kind and helpful he is. 

“No, I got it from here. Thank you, though.” 

You and Harry got up as he called out for Bella, telling her that it was time to leave. Harry helped put her coat on as he muttered something to her. Bella walked over to you, and you bent down as you smiled at her. 

“Thank you for letting us have breakfast with you and letting us into your home,” she opened her arms, and your heart fluttered as you opened your arms as well, taking each other in for a hug. 

“It’s so great to have you both. You’re welcomed here anytime,” you said against her ear, and Bella hugged you tighter and you rubbed her small back. 

After you two let go of each other, you walked them to the door, a bit sad that they had to leave, but you’re reminded that you’ll see Harry tomorrow and hopefully Bella around school. 

“I’ll see you two soon. Drive safe, yeah?” You told Harry, and he nodded. 

“Always do. I’ll text you?” You nodded, reaching up to give him a hug. 

It was a quick hug that only lasted about five seconds, which was way too quick for your liking, but when you two let go, Harry pressed his lips against your cheek, and that totally made up for it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled, and nothing came out of mouth, so you nodded instead and waved at the two. 

You watched them get into the car and drive off down the street, far enough where you couldn’t see them, so you watched back into your house and closed the door, placing your palm on your cheek as you felt the warmness of your skin heat up from the softness of his lips. And you hoped that you would get to feel his lips again.

Meanwhile as Harry was driving towards Gemma’s house, Fleetwood Mac was playing through the bluetooth of his phone until Bella spoke up, causing him to lower down the volume. 

“I really liked her,” she said. 

Harry smiled, agreeing with her, “Yeah, me too, bub.” 

“You’re right--she is pretty,” she confirmed, and Harry chuckled. 

“Very pretty.” 

“I hope I have her as my teacher when I get to the third grade.” Harry gasped, looking into the rear view mirror. 

“What?! You don’t want me to be your teacher?” Harry asked her, but knowing that his own daughter can’t be in his class, according to the rules and policy of the school. 

“I mean, maybe. But we might get annoyed with each other,” she stated, and Harry definitely agrees with her, but also loves how she’s not afraid of speaking her mind. “I hope I see her again soon,” Bella said, looking out the window as if she was in a dramatic movie. 

“You will, bub, you will.” 

And he meant what he said because Harry plans on keeping you around for a very long time. 

It was Friday after school when you heard someone say ‘knock knock’ from the entrance of your classroom. You looked up from your laptop to find Harry peeking his head out into the door frame. 

“Hi! Come in,” you said, standing up and taking your glasses off. Harry fully stands up straight, walking into your classroom. You walked towards him until a small figure that is Bella who is running straight towards you, excitedly. 

“Oh, hi sweet!” 

“Hi!” 

“We were just about to leave, but figured we could stop by and say hi--or goodbye since we’re leaving,” Harry chuckled. 

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you two. Well, I’m glad you two stopped by. I’m probably staying here for another hour or so,” you said, and you think that was probably the reason you also never knew Harry had a daughter because you two never leave at the same time. 

“I also wanted to give you these,” Bella chirped, grabbing the box of cookies from Harry’s hands before giving them to you. “We made you these last night!” 

“Wow, thank you so much. I’ll be sure to have some after I have dinner, but I just know they’re really good.” Bella nodded her head in joy. 

“I heard you’re coming over tomorrow. I’m sad I won’t be there because I’ll be with Aunt Gem,” she frowned slightly. 

“Yeah, I will be. But how about this: next weekend, with your dad’s permission and if you two aren’t busy that weekend, we can go to the park? Have a little picnic there and play some games?” You suggested that idea to her, and she immediately said yes. 

“I’m definitely up for that plan,” Harry said, smiling from ear to ear as Bella jumped eagerly. “But for now, we really do have to go.” 

You hugged Bella once more, telling her you couldn’t wait for your picnic together before hugging Harry as well. You became flustered as you remembered the time he kissed you on the cheek. And it happened again--every time you two had lunch together, he kissed your cheek hello and goodbye, and you blushed every time. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed. 

And you couldn’t wait for the evening.

As you knocked on Harry’s door, you were filled with nerves. 

The night was a bit cold out, so you wore a pair of black jeans, topped with a red leopard top, and some three inch black booties, and of course, a black coat for outside. In your hands, you held two bottles of Chardonnay--a wine that is paired well with seafood. And although you don’t know what he’s cooking up, you do know you two are pescatarians, so it saves you from roaming down the wine aisle. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he complimented once he opened the door as he looked up and down at you. Harry was wearing a light blue vertical pinstripe button down with cream colored pants. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was pinned back with a clip. “Oh, sorry,” he said once he felt his clip that was still in his hair. 

“No, don’t be sorry. You look really handsome,” you complimented back. 

“Thank you. Come in,” he moved to the side of the door, stepping out of the way so you could walk in. 

The Styles’ residence was a very cozy and welcoming home. You had already felt welcomed by the presence of Harry, but his home just made you feel even more welcomed and loving. It was the perfect size, not too big where it looks empty, but not too small so Bella can still run around. There were pictures hung up on the walls, a fireplace, and neutral colored furniture that complimented Prussian colored walls. 

He led you to the kitchen, and you thought the kitchen was lovely as well with white cabinets and potted plants along the backsplash of the kitchen, which you assumed they were fresh herbs. 

“So, I made some seasoned shrimp, and bought some ingredients that I’ve chopped up already for some shrimp tacos? We can do our own if you’d like,” he said proudly. 

“I’d love that. Do you need help with anything?” 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind?” You shook your head. “Do you mind grabbing the toppings in the fridge? They’re all in bowls.”

You made your way over to his silver refrigerator and took out all the bowls you saw, placing all of them on the counter in a line. Harry turned the stove off before grabbing two plates from the cabinet on the side of the stove, and handed one to you. 

“So, these are raw tortillas, which I’ve already cooked and placed on the pan, so it’s really good.” 

“Everything smells amazing. I can’t wait,” you smiled at him. 

Impulsively, Harry leaned forward and placed his lips on your forehead as a thank you. Not really knowing he did it until he pulled back, you beamed at him, thinking the gesture was sweet and made your heart pound. 

You and Harry assembled your shrimp tacos together, giggling when you both would reach for something at the same time, causing your hands to touch before one of you pulls back shyly. After, you followed Harry to the dining table, and it was a beautiful grey wood table with cream colored cushioned chairs. And you came to the conclusion that everything about Harry’s house was beautiful, including Harry and Bella. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said before taking a bite of his taco. 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” You asked, and he gave you a sad look before you realized what he meant. “Harry, we’re passed that. It was one time, and you had to take care of your daughter. Yeah, I was angry when I was waiting for you, but only because I didn’t know what was going on. But I’m not mad anymore. Please, don’t beat yourself up with that.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I still feel bad about making you wait,” he frowned. 

“Don’t. I’d wait for you if I have to,” you said, your words coming out as a double meaning to it. 

As you and Harry ate, you complimented him again on the food as you both drank a glass of wine. 

“Tell me about your family?” Harry asked. 

“Hmm. Well, my parents are divorced. They have been since I was sixteen, but they still have a really great relationship with one another. They see each other occasionally, not often. But I have a younger brother; he’s two years younger than me and he works at a magazine company in the marketing department. My dad is in the construction business, and my mom is a pharmacist. Not really much to tell, we were--are a great family,” you told him, smiling to yourself as you remember how lucky you are to have the family that you have. 

“Do you see them often?” 

“Not as much as I should,” you replied honestly. Your family lives about ten hours away from you by car, which does not cooperate with the school schedule. But you do see them on holidays and whatnot. “Can I ask you a question now?” Harry nodded nervously. 

“What’s your relationship like with Bella’s mom?” 

“Uh, well…we were together for the last two years of uni. We moved in together during those two years, and everything was great until she got pregnant. She kept saying that her life was over, but I kept telling her that everything was going to be alright. It was pretty rocky from then. When she had Bella, I immediately fell in love with my baby. She was this precious little thing in my arms, and I was committed, y’know? But she didn’t feel the same way. She was having trouble bonding with her, and I told her that that sometimes happened and she shouldn’t give up, but one day, she told me that she was over everything. That she’s in the peak of her career and that she’d rather travel. Of course, that turned into an argument, but at the end of the day, that was her choice, so I didn’t bother anymore.” 

“Does she still see Bella?” You asked hesitantly, and Harry can sense it. 

“Maybe once a month? If not, then every other month. But they only see each other for about an hour, and that’s about it,” Harry said, and you nodded, not saying anything. “If you’re wondering, I don’t love her anymore, like, I’m completely over her. Just because she’s Bella’s biological mother, that doesn’t mean I love her,” he said, wanting to make sure you knew. 

You chuckled softly at his assertiveness, “I know you don’t love her. You’re a wonderful father to Bella.” 

“I try,” he said shyly. 

“And that’s all that matters. She completely loves you and she looks up to you,” you told him honestly from what you observed. Harry doesn’t say anything but take in your words, and his heart flutters from it because everyone needs a bit of encouragement; it helps them keep going and to not give up. 

There were no words that fell between either of your lips as there was no need for it; just the unspoken connection that you two shared as you stared at each other so intently, silently sharing a bond with one another that will mean something so deeply to you hearts. A blush settled on both of your cheeks, and it definitely wasn’t the wine because it was so much stronger; Harry had that kind of affect. 

Harry placed his arms on the table, slightly leaning in. You did the same, and your faces were inches away. His hand reached up to brush your hair behind your ear before placing his palm on your cheek, your skin immediately heating up. As he looked at you, his thumb brushed your cheek and it was the most soothing and innocent action anyone has ever done to you, and it made goosebumps on your skin rise. 

“Can I ask you something?” Harry asked. 

“Anything,” you said softly. 

In a moment of weakness where you would let this man do anything to you, you felt strong and powerful. You felt confident and beautiful. And you think that is so important in seeking a partner because they should make you feel like that even with the simple act of staring. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Please do.” 

Harry smirked, glancing down at your lips before looking back up at your eyes--something he’s accustomed to doing to you, and you noticed every time. 

He placed his forehead against yours, nose touching as your lips were just a small movement apart. Harry’s hand moved closer to your mouth as he took his thumb and placed it on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You were breathing deeply as you didn’t expect him to do that, but you were nonetheless turned on by it. 

And when he went to caress your cheek again, he finally leaned forward and kissed you. 

It was like everything you imagined. Through the years of tension that was building up, stealing each other’s belongings, the bickering, the days of daydreaming in class of how his lips would feel against yours, and all those nights imagining his lips against your skin—it all came down to something so explosive but marvelous at the same time. 

The taste of Chardonnay adding to his own was something so sweet as his tongue brushed against yours as you grabbed the back of his neck to bring him in closer. Your lips molded together as if it were one, and there was no hint of rushing it even further. It was sweet and slow, taking in one another’s feel as the spark between you two heightened and bursted. 

Once you two pulled back, and the appearance of swollen lips and being breathless, you two looked at each other and giggled, finally relieved that happened. 

“Not sure if this is too soon, considering this our first date, but will you be my girlfriend?” He asked nervously, and your kissed lips turned up, smiling brightly at him. 

“So, when you meant soon, that meant the next week, huh?” You teased, not completely answering his questions straight away. 

“Precisely,” he chuckled, knee shaking under the table. 

“But I thought you’d never ask sooner, so yes. I will be your girlfriend.” Beaming, you held his hand as you said so, and Harry’s face dropped. 

“Really? You’re not messing with me, right?” He said shockingly. 

“Of course I will! How could I say no?” You placed your hands on the sides of his face and caressed your thumb, meeting your pointer finger as you pinched his cheek ever so gently in a comforting way, and not childish one. And Harry finds it sweet and it might be one of his favorite things if you keep doing it. 

Harry took your lips in with his again, knowing he won’t get used to the feeling of having your lips on his. It was a surreal feeling that he’s been wanting to happen for a very long time, and he’s talking about years, way before he even confessed his feelings. 

After a few minutes of kissing and getting used to each other’s soft lips, Harry suggested moving to the living area. So, you two cleaned up after much declining from Harry as he rejected your help, but you helped him anyway. 

Taking a seat on his couch as you waited for Harry to open the wine in the kitchen, you took a look around the living room. It was very warm and comforting; it made you feel safe. From the moment you stepped into his home, it had that sort of feel of security, like you were being wrapped up in a warm hug of love and safeness. And you absolutely loved it.

Harry finally joined you, taking a seat next to you as he poured more wine into both of your glasses—you two having the same amount. 

“What’s your family like?” You asked, only knowing the basics of them. 

“Well, as you know, I’ve got a sister; grew up with her and my mum. My parents got a divorce when I was seven, and it was a bit weird. I was young at the time, so I didn’t really know how to deal with it, but luckily mum always told me that it didn’t have to do with Gem or me,” Harry remembered that day so vividly as him and Gemma were sat on the couch of their childhood home as his mum and dad was in front of them. 

“Did you still see your dad?” You asked. 

“Yeah, we did all the time. I still do see him to this day. He was always an amazing father; never left us worrying. He’s an amazing granddad to Bella, and I really love their relationship.” 

“That’s amazing,” you smiled fondly at him, and Harry agreed. 

For the next hours, you cuddled up to Harry as you both talked about anything and everything as you two were a bit tipsy off your friend called Chardonnay, and off one another as the kisses hadn’t stopped. You hadn’t realized you were talking for so long that it was almost midnight, and you suggested you call it a night to get out of his hair. 

“Wait, how about you stay the night?” He suggested instead. 

“I shouldn’t,” you had sobered up during the last hours as you told him you’d pass on another glass of wine, to which he stopped drinking as well. 

“No, please. I insist. I know that you’re a bit sober, but I don’t want you driving like this anyways,” his hand met your forearm, rubbing it slightly as a way to convince you, and the mere touch is enough for you to say yes. 

“Okay,” you complied, nodded your head. Harry smiled, grabbing your hand as he led you to his room. 

Walking into his closet, he told you to pick anything you’d like to wear as he went to change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but hoping you’d be okay with him sleeping shirtless. 

You opted for one of his band tees and one of his a pair of shorts that were actually pretty short on you, so you were eager to see what it would look like on Harry. You met him in his restroom as he handed you a toothbrush and a makeup wipes, telling you that Bella liked to do makeup on him sometimes, so he bought wipes for it, and you told him that the next time she does it, to invite you over. 

Once you and Harry got ready for bed, you had felt like you were intruding, but he reminded you that you weren’t and that if you wanted to sleep in the guest bedroom that he would be okay with that. But you wanted to spend the night with him, so you climbed into bed with him, the worries about things being ‘too soon’ or ‘too quick’ flew out the window as you both were on your own timeline of your relationship. 

Harry pulled you into his bare tattoo chest, and luckily you were totally okay with him sleeping without a shirt on. You were amazed with his inked body, thinking how beautiful it is and wanting to look at every single detail of art that’s permanently on him. He kissed your forehead as you two made light conversation before your eyes dropped and slowly closed. 

You were in his arms, sharing a bed with him for the first time on the night of your first official date where he asked you to be his girlfriend and your first kiss with him. 

Everything had happened so fast, but with the warmth of his arms around you, feeling ultimate safety, it felt so right. 

The next morning arrived and Harry already knew that the night prior was the best sleep he’s ever had. 

He had been sleeping well, but he didn’t know what sleeping with you felt like until last night, and he loved every bit of it, even though he only had memory of the moment before falling asleep and waking up to you. 

The hold on his girlfriend’s arms became tighter as he woke up from the morning light that was peeking through the shutters. It was a quiet Sunday morning; no one in a rush to get anyone as it was everyone’s day to sleep in. 

The position you both were in as you cuddled was an interesting one. Harry had woken up to you both facing each other as Harry's arm was under your neck and your arm on his waist. But what was different was that his thigh was between your legs, squeezed together by them. 

He didn’t want to move because that’ll wake you up, he’s sure. So, he laid still, brushing off the hairs on your face as he watched you peacefully sleep. You were quite adorable as you slept, even though there was a bit of dried up drool on the corner of your mouth. But still adorable. 

After a few moments of laying there, his eyes were slowly starting to close as the silence took over, making him sleepy again. But after a minute of having his eyes closed, movement from you had startled him awake again. 

You were still sleeping, and your position hadn’t changed, only the movement of your hips slightly grinding down on his thigh in your sleep had left him wide awake. He thought it was a mere coincidence of you jolting, but as you continued to do it, he knew that you were having some sort of dream. And he hoped it was about him. 

Harry had been semi hard since waking up, but he felt himself start to grow harder in his pants as you let out quiet whimpers. He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to your lips before kissing around your entire face in order to wake you up, thinking he could get used to this. 

You stirred, but your hips didn’t stop, and Harry continued to kiss your face until you opened your eyes and yours locked with his as you started back a tad bit, looking at him. 

“Morning, darling,” he greeted, bringing you back into him. There was a bit of a smirk on his face, and your eyes widened, remembering the dream you just had before you woke up. The familiar heat between your legs that made its appearance every time you had a glass or two was being relieved by Harry’s thigh. 

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” you said, moving back to push his leg out from between yours, but he pulled you back in, placing his leg between yours again. 

“No, no. C’mere. Don’t be sorry. Were you dreamin’?” He asked, voice deep and raspy from the slumber. And it only added to your arousal as you felt very wet inside of your panties. 

“Uh, yeah. I was,” you replied, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand as you stretched, hoping to hide away the embarrassment you’re feeling. 

“What about?” He consulted with a smirk on his face. You still had your eyes covered, but you know him all too well to know that he has a mischievous grin on his face, and you know yourself all too well to know that you’re red. Harry grabbed your wrists gently, pulling your arms. “C’mon, don’t hide from me please.” Once he held your arms down, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze once again. “Wanna tell me about your dream?” 

“It’s embarrassing,” you muttered. 

“M’sure it’s not. I’ll tell you something ‘embarrassing’ if you tell me,” he emphasized ‘embarrassing’ as a sarcastic tone because he knows that it’s not really anything to be ashamed of. 

After a few moments of thinking, wondering if Harry would laugh at you, you huffed as you told him. “Every time I have a few drinks, I tend to have some sex dreams.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked. “What was your dream this time?” He asked curiously, but the look on his face tells you that he already knows and just wants you to say it. 

Figuring that you’ve already confessed that you had a wet dream, you told him honestly. “It was about you.”

Harry’s brows raised at that, shifting closer to you before he briefly kissed your cheek. He hadn’t said anything, and it’s driving you insane because here he was, telling you to tell him, and once you did, not a word out of his mouth. 

“Are you not going to say anything?” Your brows furrowed. 

“How about you tell me all about your dream?” He suggested, and the crease on your brow flattened. 

“W-What?” 

“Yeah. Then maybe after, we can make those dreams into a reality.” 

There was no stutter in his words. No lie in what he said. He had this raging hard on below him, and he knows that you’re probably wet already, so why not help each other out? After all, you two are together. 

“How does that sound?” He asked when you hadn’t said anything, dipping his head down to kiss your neck. “Do you want that? Because it’s okay if you don’t. Although, I’d still like to hear about your dream-”

“No, no! I want that. I want that so bad, please,” you pleaded, eyes looking into him so innocently when your dreams were about him railing you. 

“Do tell then, darling,” he gave you a kiss to your lips before, pulling back too quickly, so you pulled him by the neck, reconnecting your lips again. 

Unlike last night’s kisses, this one was eager and rushed, knowing it’ll lead to way more. Your tongues met, and Harry grabbed the back of your thigh, squeezing the flesh, making you hiss out. 

“So we were actually in the position,” you started your storytelling. “We kissed for a while,” Harry pecked your lips again, making you chuckle. “It felt nice, like I felt it through my dreams.” 

“Maybe that’s because I was actually kissing you,” he pitched in. 

“Maybe. And I really liked it.”

“Tell me more,” he hands roamed against your arm that was resting on his waist, and you could already feel the chills from his touch rise on your skin. 

“Your hand sneaked down to my panties, and you teased me a bit, not putting your hand inside of them right away.” 

“Like this?” As you said so, his hand trailed down your torso, slightly pulling your (his) shirt up to reveal a bit of your stomach as he raked his finger down your skin and to the hem of your shorts, dragging his nail along the hem. 

“Yeah, like that,” you confirmed as butterflies settled into your stomach. “Then you took my pants off, and you touched me very slowly.” 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, and you breathed out a ‘yes’ before he pushed the shorts down and you kicked them off your legs. You were wearing red lace panties, just like the top you were wearing, and he admired them for a quick second before taking them off. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked suddenly as you were half bare in front of him. 

“Is that part of your dream?” 

You shook your head, “no, but I really want to touch you, if you’d let me?” 

“Please do. I want you to touch me,” he gave you his consent, and you placed the palm of your hand on top of his clothed crotch, feeling him out as his hands roamed your thighs, Harry softly moaning from your touch. 

“Take this off, yeah?” You referred to his boxers, and he briskly took them off, kicking them on the floor. You looked down at him, impressed by his size, but did do well with your wet core as he still hadn’t touched you yet. “Next, you rubbed my clit for a while as you kissed me.” 

His fingers finally met your clit, and he rubbed as the wetness from your arousal had lubricated his fingers. He lifted your shirt up, and you slightly sat up for a moment to take off the material, finally fully bare for him, and the sight in front of him was to die for. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he said, fingers still rubbing you and his mouth immediately going on your breasts, kissing the skin and sucking on your nipples. You moaned out at both of the feelings of his hands and mouth on you. 

Suddenly you felt his finger dip into your wet hole, plunging them in and out of you as he curled his fingers up, hitting that soft spot of your upper walls. 

“Oh my, fuck,” you moaned out as Harry continued to kiss your tits. 

“You like that?” 

“Mhm. So good,” you felt as if you were about to come on his finger, but you held back, edging yourself and wanting the feeling to last longer. 

You looked down at his cock as it stood straight up and looked quite painful, but Harry didn’t show it; only focusing on your pleasure and getting you off. But you cared, so you licked your hand, and grabbed his cock, pumping it slowly. Harry hadn’t expected you to do that as he groaned, throwing his head back, exposing his neck, so you leaned forward, kissing and sucking on the skin of his collarbone; not wanting to go too high up because he does have a daughter.

“Like that, darling,” he moaned out while you were pumping your hand around the tip, learning that was probably his most sensitive spot. 

The thrusting of his fingers hadn’t stopped as well, alternating between fingering you and rubbing your clit as you started to grind against his hand. 

“Do you wanna fuck me?” You asked straightforwardly, slowing down your movements as did he. “It was part of my dream,” you added. 

“Y’know, you can just ask me to fuck you. Don’t have to say it was in your dream,” he smirked. 

“True, but it really was in my dream. That’s why I was practically humping your leg,” you chuckled. “It’s okay if it’s too soon, I’m close anyways.” 

“Yeah? Let me fuck with you then. Been wanting to feel you,” he smiled before turning around to grab a condom. He turned back around at you, his smile no longer there. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to think if you had one in your purse. 

“I haven’t had sex in about two years, so I don’t have any.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I have one either.” Neither of you said anything, trying to see how to resolve this situation. Harry could possibly go to the store quickly and get one, but you had a better idea. “We can go without one? I mean I’m clean. I have an IUD. I haven’t had sex in about a year, and I recently got tested and I’m clean,” you stated, and Harry nodded. 

“Okay. I got tested about a month or two ago, and I’m clean as well,” he told you, not giving you a straight answer. 

“So, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

With that, he crashed his lips onto yours, gladly taking in the softness of them. You moaned against his lips as he grabbed your ass, pulling your body closer to his while squeezing. His hand made his way back to your clit, rubbing it relentlessly, causing you to whimper from the sensitivity, and you physically pulled his hand out from between your legs and looked him in the eye.

“Fuck me already,” you demanded. 

“Alright, alright. So bossy,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes. 

Your chests were pressed together as there was no change in position, just the two of you on your sides, facing each other. Harry reached between you, grabbing a hold of his cock before running the tip up and down your slit, collecting your wetness to coat it. You slightly bucked your hips, urging him to put himself inside of you already, and he chuckled at your eagerness, but obliged as he slowly pushed into you. 

The position was definitely different than what you were used to, but he was so deep into you that you felt him everywhere. You both groaned out, sighing in relief that you two finally made it this far. Harry started to thrust into you, grabbing your leg, placing it high on his hip, practically on the side of his stomach as he fucked you. 

“Holy fuck, yes. That feels so good,” you screamed out as you placed your hand on the side of his face. 

“So fuckin’ tight for me, yeah? Love the way I’m fuckin’ you?” He asked before taking in your lips with his quickly, and pulling away so you could answer him. 

“Mhm. So big. Just like that,” you said, feeling him every time he hit that lovely spot inside of you, making you moan loudly. 

“M’not gonna last,” he said, chest heaving deeply as continued thrusting. There was so much foreplay that happened before the fucking that he could’ve came with your gentle touch of your hand wrapped around his cock, and also because he hasn’t gotten a single bit of action in two years. 

“Me neither,” you agreed, bouncing the way you can as you met his thrusts. Harry’s tongue met one of your nipples as you continued your movements, trying to get both of you on edge of an orgasm. 

“Tell me what you need. Let me get you there,” he said, wanting to help you out. 

“Play with my clit,” you breathed out, and his hand immediately went in between you to rub your sensitive button. Once you felt his fingers on you, it didn’t take you long to reach your peak. “Oh... shit, H,” you let out, voice shaky as your orgasm surged through you, whimpering his name out into the air, not ashamed with how loud you were being, 

Harry took place of you, pounding into you as you rode your high. “There you go. That’s it, darling. Look so pretty cummin’ for me.” With sloppy thrusts, his orgasm rushed through him, finally releasing inside of you as groans came out and he smashed his face on the pillow. Moans of your name was practically all he knew as they came out muffled from the pillow. 

You pulled him into your chest to calm down from his high, and the hot and deep breaths against your skin made you warm up as you scratch his curly hair lightly. 

After a moment of being in each other’s arms, you felt his lips press against your collarbones, sucking the skin lightly. His head moved up to your neck, only kissing it as he knows not to leave love bites there because of work. 

He pulled his head back, laying his head next to you against the pillow as he lazily smiled, looking so fucked out as do you. You moved to cuddle into his side as he gladly took you into his arms. 

“That was amazing,” you said. 

“Really, really good,” he agreed. “Did I do your dream justice?” 

You giggled, completely forgetting that you started out telling him about your dream.

“Way better actually.” 

“Can’t believe you’re my girlfriend now,” an overwhelming feeling hits him as his face is in disbelief. 

“I can’t either. Do you think Bella would be happy?” You worriedly asked, hoping the little six year old, that you’ve grown to adore, would love to have you around often. 

“Please. She would be ecstatic. She loves you so much already. But how about we don’t tell her yet? Just have you around, so she could get used to you, and then we’ll tell her?” He suggested. 

“That’s actually a really great idea. I wanna make sure she likes me fully enough to tell her,” you said, and Harry nods his head, chuckling as you’re still not convinced Bella loves you already. 

“Can you believe after five years, we’re in this position?” 

You smiled fondly at the fact; you really couldn’t believe it nor would have guessed you would end up like this with Harry. But you knew all this time that he was a genuine person, and if he truly hated you from the beginning he wouldn’t have talked to you at all throughout the years. 

“It’s crazy, but I’m so happy,” you smiled at him, eyes gleaming with happiness as you placed your hand on his stubbled cheek.

“Me too. Does that mean you’re gonna stop stealing my mail?” He joked, making you laugh loudly; the voice echoing the room. He smiled at you as he watched you laugh, realizing that might be his one favorite sounds right next to you moaning his name. 

“Nah, I’m still gonna take your mail. But think I stole something else.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Well, I did steal your heart, right?” Harry blushed, a crimson red settling on his cheeks, and you gently pinched his cheek as you did the night prior. And he was right, he loved when you did that. 

“Who knew you would be cheesy,” he teased, and you playfully slapped his chest. “But yeah, you completely stole my heart.” You smiled, cuddling more into his che

As you two laid on his bed in each other’s arms, there was a comfortable feeling that you two felt, knowing that this has possibly got to be the most safe you both have ever felt. 

And as your chests pounded in sync, you thought that he had stolen your heart too, and you wouldn’t mind if he kept it. 

hope you loved it as much as i loved writing it! 

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[sqoiler]

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue. 

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?” 

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors. 

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand. 

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms. 

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper. 

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school. 

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work. 

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman. 

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards. 

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says. 

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead. 

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that. 

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper. 

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol. 

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure. 

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish. 

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards! 

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?” 

Steph whirls around. 

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen. 

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house. 

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says. 

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him. 

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her. 

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him. 

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says. 

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react. 

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully. 

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk. 

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back. 

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

[orenjikaraka]

I’m Truly Sorry, please Forgive Me…

Rengoku Kyojuro x reader angst

Warnings: slight manga warning aka mainly akaza just slightly though, cursing, concerned for weight, angst

word count: 4279

AU: modern

(Y/N) woke up to an empty side of the bed, She wondered if he’s at work again, she sighed, she got up, she actually kind of disappointed that he's not here , ‘Kyojuro…’ she thought, she still felt tired, but kind of relieved in the same time, because she was on break, it was only for a week, but she’s glad that she doesn’t have to go to work today, ‘I should make dinner for him, because he usually comes back late at night’, when she got up, the floor was cold, ‘well crap now I’m awake’, she got dressed and went to the kitchen, she made Kyojuro’s dinner and made her breakfast, she put his plate in the fridge, and ate her breakfast alone while watching some shows.

After she finished her food, she was wondering if she should call him, to see if he was alright. But before she could even try, Genya was calling her, ‘weird timing’, and she answered “hi Genya, what’s up?” “O- oh hi (Y/N), I was wondering if Rengoku-San is doing ok, because he’s been working on a lot of paperwork, he usually be finish with it, and head to your home, but- but he been like this yesterday morning and I don’t- don’t think he left school?” ‘Now that you think about it, Kyojuro left early yesterday in the morning, I thought it would be like a meeting, but who takes meetings that early in the DAMN morning’ “maybe he just has extra work, he needs to do Genya”, “ trueee, but he looks exhausted, so I wondering if you could check on him?”

‘Awwww, Genya, still acting like a little brother, it’s no wonder he’ll be worried, heck I'm worried too, but usually when these things happen like this, he comes the next day, sleeping soundly on our bed…’ “Genya, sweetheart, don’t worry about it, he’ll be back probably late at night, and be sound asleep in my bed, so don’t worry” “but- but (Y/N)” ‘this boy…’ “Genya I’ll tell you what, if he doesn’t come this midnight, and if morning happens and he’s still not there, can you ask Sanemi to go check on him, because I’ll be busy tomorrow, and you know, some errands for the house and grocery stopping, also I chose Sanemi, because you’ll be busy with school you know” “i- I know, and o- ok” … “OH, (Y/N), I’m celebrating my birthday today. Would you like to come, Tanjiro and his sister will be there, and Sanemi of course, “oh I would love to, I don’t really have anything to do today anyway so sure!” “YES- wait I mean thank you… for… coming…” ‘hehe poor boy, probably made his classmates scared’ “your welcome Genya, also happy birthday!” “Thank you, (Y/N), bye” “bye”.

‘Oh, before I do anything I should go buy him a gift’ so (Y/N) put on some casual clothes, instead of just wearing Pajamas, and went to the mail.

—-

All the classes has ended, and Rengoku just finished a big batch of paperwork, he yawn, and checked if he was finished, he looked on his schedule and saw more paperwork has been placed with a big sticky note that says ‘Teacher of history class: Rengoku Kyojuro; must be finished by tomorrow!’ “Fuck…” he just wanted to go home and sleep with his beautiful wife, on that soft bed, “guess this will be my 4th coffee for the day…” he got up and yawn again, and stretched, his back pop, but not in the good way, “ow, ow, ow, never doing that again…”, he walked over, and picked his stack of paper he had to do, he sat it in his desk, and walked to the teachers lounge’s door, and opened it to the hallway, before he stepped out, he saw Genya with Sanemi, most likely walking home, he guessed, but he heard Genya saying before they left, “(Y/N), is coming over, for the party, I’m so glad she’s free today!” And as they left, Kyojuro felt frustrated, ‘why didn't she tell me anything…’ he yawned again, “God, these yawns are getting on my nerves, I need my coffee…”

When he made it to the teachers lunch room, he started to make his coffee, when it finished, he drinks it, unusually fast, but unsatisfied, by the results, ‘ima have another’ so he made another, and drink it the exact speed as the last one, satisfied by the 2nd coffee, he was gonna go back to the teachers lounge, but saw a small box that had some sweet rolls, on the box it said, ‘you may only take one’, but Kyojuro had a craving to eat the whole damn box, all those coffees are really messing up his appetite, ‘who’s gonna notice these anyway, I eat most of the stuff here, so who gives a damn’ ‘but then again… I’ll gain some weight…’ he put one hand on his side, and felt some fat, it’s not noticeable, but it’s still pudge, ‘maybe I regret being a teacher, all this damn paperwork, and exhaustion, and drinking all this coffee really affecting my body…’ when he was thinking about all this stuff and he was about to ditch it and left,  but hunger was just raging in his stomach so ‘ok, ok, maybe some won’t hurt’ and took the whole damn box and left for the teachers lounge.

—-

(Y/N) was at Sanemi’s house celebrating Genya’s birthday, everything was going great and to (Y/N), she was surprised that Sanemi was having a great time too. It was kind of sad that Kyojuro wasn’t there, he would be giving Genya tons of gifts, but sadly he’s still at work, it made (Y/N) a bit disappointed again, but she wanted to just hope, he’s doing ok, “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” “Oh, Sanemi, I’m just worried for my husband is all…” “don’t worry about it, like you said to Genya, if he doesn’t show up to your house tomorrow morning, I’ll go check on him, just relax and don’t worry about it” “ok…” “quick (Y/N), I’m blow the heck out of the candles!!” Genya said, (Y/N) laughed, “ok!!, come on Sanemi, get off that couch of yours, and stop being lazy” Sanemi smirk “ohhhh really, I’ll prove to you, that I’m not” he gets up, “I like to see you try!!” Sanemi and (Y/N) laughed after that, and went over to the kitchen to celebrate Sanemi’s little bro's birthday.

—-

After Genya’s birthday celebration was over, (Y/N) went straight home, to relax and just vibe at home, when she took her shower and other little chores and pajamas on, she was about to fell on her bed, but she heard a knock on her door, she immediately turned around and hope it was Kyojuro, when she opened it, her excitement immediately stopped, she saw akaza, “sorry to bother you Mrs. Rengoku, but I’m just here to drop some stuff off”, “who stuff is it?” “Just Rengoku-sans” “oh ok, thanks akaza, oh also is he still at work?” Akaza sighed “yeah… I kind of feel bad for the guy, been working his ass off over some stupid extra paperwork…”, ‘I’ll remind Sanemi tomorrow to go check on him’, “akaza, before you leave, thanks again I appreciate it”, “your welcome, and have a great night!” Akaza waved goodbye and walked away, ‘akaza, I hope that boy relationship is better then mine, because he needs it, he’s such a sweet boy…’ (Y/N) closed the door, and looked in the box, it had finished paperwork inside it.

‘Ren… you really need to take a break…’

—-

The next evening is even more tiring than before, Kyojuro looks more warned out; he looks like he's gonna faint any minute, but that coffee stops him from doing so. ‘Fuck me… my eyes hurt so much…’ Kyojuro yawned again. The teacher's office door opened, Kyojuro didn’t give a damn who it was, because he felt like passing out. “Rengoku”, … “Kyojuro”, … “HEY, I know you can hear me, don’t play du-“ “how about you shut your mouth Sanemi” “tch, hey I’m only here because your wife sent me here to check up on you, not for you to be a asshole to me” that annoyed Kyojuro “why the hell are you with my (Y/N)” “Ren, she’s like a sister to me, even though we’re not related, I still see her as family, so why the fuck you think, I be behind your back with that” Kyojuro sighed and stood from his chair “where is she” “she’s out doing errands, she wanted to come over here and check on you, but house chores and grocery shopping” Kyojuro sat back down and trying to finish what he was left off “ok, leave, I have work to do, so buzz off”.

“Are you listening to yourself right now, your just gonna go back on your work instead of paying attention to (Y/N)” “no, I need to finish it, for my job, someone needs to pay the bills in the house” Sanemi got pissed off by that, then he chuckled “tch, no wonder (Y/N) comes to my house, when she’s all tearing up, because someone needs to give her attention and that someone is not you” Kyojuro stood up and put his hands by Sanemi’s shirt, Sanemi can see that flame in his eyes, the rage… “Sanemi if you lay a finger on-“ “maybe I should, I can treat her better than you…” Kyojuro was about to punch him, but the door opened again, and Genya was there, poor boy was shocked, “let go, Rengoku” Sanemi made Kyojuro let go, Sanemi walked over to Genya, and reassured him, Kyojuro just stared back and a overflowing guilt fell on him, Sanemi looked back with rage and discuss in his eyes, “Ren, you need to get your act together, if you can’t do that, she’s gonna move on, and divorce you…” then slammed the door. 

Sanemi walked out with Genya and head home, but before he touched the door knob, his phone rings, he got his phone out of his pocket and saw (Y/N) on the screen, he answers, “hey what’s up” “hey can I come spend the night at your house” Sanemi was surprised, “oh… why-“ “Genya texted me, that the talk you had with Ren, didn’t go so well…” ‘she sounds depressed’ “hey… is everything ok…” ‘wait, why would I ask such a dumb question’ “kinda… I'm just sick of being alone at home…” “yeah, want me to come pick you up” “yes…” “ok, I’ll come pick you up in 10 minutes from now” “thanks Sem Sem, I appreciate it” Sanemi chuckled, “your welcome, (Y/N)…” 

—-

It was late at night again, and Kyojuro was still at work doing paperwork, he felt like knocking out, his eyes were drooping and his back hurts, ‘me, an jerk, fuck off Sanemi…’ ‘maybe I should call her…’ Kyojuro stop doing his work and picked up his phone off the desk and started to call her, it rings and rings and rings, until a voicemail happens, “hi this is (Y/N), I might be busy with my husband, so please understand, leave a message after the beep”, *bee-* He canceled it before it even tried to go to voicemail, ‘why should I even try again, it’s midnight’ he put his phone down and he wanted to rest his eyes ‘maybe, I am a jerk’ then he denied it ‘no, I need to finish this work…’ yawned again, ‘actually maybe a small nap won’t hurt, right?’ He laid on his arms, and wondered ‘am I really a bad husband, mom if you were here, what would you say about this…’ Kyojuro slowly fell asleep on his desk.

—-

It was midnight and (Y/N) didn’t want to call back Kyojuro, she saw the missed call from him, but she was shocked to think he would call her, she sighed and tried to go to sleep but couldn’t, maybe she’s overreacting about Kyojuro, she knows his job can be overwhelming, but… but… she’s tearing up, she’s sobbing, she’s quivering, she lift herself up, and put her arms around her legs. 

Sanemi was fast asleep in the living room couch, Genya couldn’t really sleep because what happened in the teachers lounge, what Sanemi said and what Rengoku said, he felt guilt swelling up in his heart, then he hear (Y/N) sobbing in Sanemi’s master bedroom, he sit up, and opened his door, and quietly walked to his brother’s room, slowly opened the door, and saw (Y/N), he felt horrible, he closed the door behind him, and slowly touched her back and slowly rubs her back, “hey, (Y/N)… everything will be ok…” (Y/N) let go of her arms and slowly hugged Genya, she was sobbing on his shoulder, he hugged her back, and give light rubs on her back, and whispered “everything is going to be fine”, it slowly calmed her down, and she looked up at Genya, her puffy eyes made him felt terrible, “I’m sorry I woke you up Genya, it’s just so much is happening…” “no, no, no, it’s fine, your stressed out because what’s all happening and I completely understand that'', “thanks Genya…” “do you need anything else, (Y/N)” she paused and still looked gloomy, “can you sleep with me, It’s hard for me to sleep”, Genya spaced out and it was a little out of the blue for him, “sur- sure, if it- it helps you sleep- I com- completely understand” his cheeks were slightly pink, (Y/N) laughed because he looks so cute, when’s he’s blushy, “thanks Genya'' she made a small smile, that made Genya stop blushing, he smiled back, he stood up, and started to fix his side of the bed, and he walked out and walked back in for his phone, (Y/N) layed down on her side of the bed, and Genya rested on the left side, “thanks again Gen Gen…” “your welcome (Y/N)…” and they both fell asleep. 

—-

Sanemi woke up first, because he needs to get Genya ready for school and everything, like make his breakfast and stuff, he left his main clothes in the living room because he didn’t want to wake up (Y/N), he got dressed and he head to Genya’s room, to wake him up, when he got there and opened the door, he wasn’t there, ‘where you go?’ Then he look at his room, and slowly walked to his room and opened it, and saw Genya sleeping on the left side and (Y/N) on the right, ‘she must’ve had a hard time sleeping, so she asked Genya…’ he still felt frustrated from yesterday, ‘maybe I should call for a day off today, because of (Y/N)’ so he slowly closed the door and called his boss, he said Genya’s not feeling well and that Genya has to stay home, and he had to stay home and take care of him, he ended the call and started to make breakfast for the both of them, he made there plates first, then he made his, his room door opened and Sanemi’s head looked at the direction, and saw Genya walked out then (Y/N), they both yawn, “I smelled pancakes, so I woke up first” (Y/N) said, Genya just shook up, “wait!, ima be late for school!”, then Sanemi quickly said “you dork, I told them we have a day off!, so calm down…``''oh…”, (Y/N) laughed on the two brothers, “why did you call a day off Sanemi?” “Because of you, I saw Genya slept on the other side of the bed, so I thought, you had a hard time sleeping” “I did and Genya helped, isn’t that little dude” “HEY, I’m not around the same age, but I am like twice your size!”, (Y/N) laughed, it made the brothers smile, because it’s better to see their friend happy instead of so sorrowful, “hey, Sanemi… later from today, can you drop me at the school, I need to talk to Rengoku'' Sanemi was a bit surprised to hear her say his last name, “sure, I can, but if anything happens I’ll be in the hallway, and if anyone ask why I’m there, I’ll just say, I’m waiting on someone” “thanks Sanemi” she smiled softly “your welcome (Y/N), if anything happens I’ll rush in there” 

“Thanks and I appreciate it”

—-

It was the afternoon and Kyojuro woke up from his nap, he felt all horrible, his back still hurts, his eyes has deep bags under them, and his body has a trill to drink more coffee, he tried stretching again, but the aches on his back felt like needles piercing through his skin “well that just fucking hurts” he touched his sides and his back, because they were hurting like hell, ‘hope this day, won’t get any worse as it is’, the teacher’s lounge door opened and right when he looked up, he saw his beautiful (Y/N), she looked dreadful, “hi…” she spoke, he felt guilt in his heart because how sad she sounds, “hi…” “can we talk, Rengoku…”, Kyojuro felt even more guilt, why is she calling me that, like we’re strangers all over again he thought, “baby, why are you not calling me by my-“ “Ren, why aren’t you coming home” that guilt slowly turns into frustration, “because I have a job, and I need to pay the bills for us to survive…” “yes, but doesn’t mean you stay up and at your job for three days straight”, “so-“, now (Y/N) slightly raising her voice “what do you mean so!, look at yourself, you been sitting in your desk, drinking coffee, have horrible bags under your eyes, you look like your gonna knock out, Rengo-“ “STOP CALLING ME BY MY LAST NAME” that terrified her, but she still stood her ground, “why should I!! I have been ignored for the past three days! You don’t even give me a text that ‘I’ll be still at work!’ Or at least something comforting!” “Oh (Y/N)!, why don’t you stop being a sensitive little bitch!, and just grow up!” 

Kyojuro eyes went wide, shocked to why he even said that, (Y/N) was trembling, her tears were streaming down her cheeks, Kyojuro wanted to help her calm down, but when he tried to reach for her, she backed up, Kyojuro felt horrible, he felt like he wanted to get punched, his voice was shaky, “(Y/N)…” he tried to touch her shoulder again, but she back up again, “don’t touch me…” his heart shattered when he heard her and how scared she is, “(Y/N), I’m sorry…”, it was silent, until she said “Kyojuro…, no wonder your just like your father…”, and she ran out just like that, Kyojuro was speechless, he wanted to run after her, but couldn’t, because she was right, Kyojuro started tearing up and quavering.

“Am I really…”

——

(Y/N) was running away from the school, the students that were leaving school saw her with sad looks on there faces, Sanemi was behind yelling her name, She just wanted to go far, far, far away from this horrible school, Sanemi chack up, and grabbed her by the arm, “LET GO!!” And Sanemi turned her around, “hey, it’s me, it's me…”, she hugged Sanemi and he hugged back, he picked her up, “it’s going to be ok… shhh.. everything going to be ok… I’ll take you back to my house…”

When they got there, Genya looked worried for (Y/N), she was crying silently, Sanemi wanted to put her down, but she didn’t let go, “(Y/N)?”, “can- can, you and Genya, stay up with me…, be- because I don’t think I can sleep…” Sanemi felt horrible, he should’ve just stepped in, but he wanted to give them space and respect their personal conversation, “sure, (Y/N), anything to make you positive and not stressed, I can do that” ‘hearing that from Sanemi was strange, because usually he’s always stern or blatantly aggressive, but he always would hide his anger on me’ “tha- thanks, Sem Sem…” Sanemi made a small pleasant smile that also made her smile, “hey, (Y/N), how about we watch a movie for the night?” 

“Sure, I would love that…”

——

When Kyojuro got home, he was not surprised that she wasn’t here, his fist clenched, and he slammed the door behind him, he was starving, because he felt like if he ate, he’ll just throw up, but he had to eat something, so he walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, and saw some dinner, wrapped in foil, and a sticky note on top, he picked up the note, and it read, ‘hi, love, I’m glad your home, finished this amazing dinner I made, I worked really hard on it, so I hope you like it!’ Also ps. When you finish come cuddle with me! <3’, a teardrop fell on the note, and his hand was shaking, it started to become hard to read, because the tears kept flowing, he closed the fridge, and decided to not eat it, the note was now on the floor but he didn’t care, he just wanted to go to sleep, and just hope this is all a nightmare…

After he took his shower and got ready for bed, he wanted to call her again, so he did, but right when he clicked the call button, it went straight to voicemail, he hung up, before her cute voice can say anything, he tossed his phone on her side of the bed, and sat down on his side of the bed, his quivering got worriedly worst, his breathing was uneven, “(Y/N)… please come… back… I’m… nothing like my father…” 

“Please… I’m sorry… please come back…”

—-

The following morning, Sanemi woke up first, he got up quietly, stretched his back and popped his joints. He was gonna start breakfast for everyone, but he heard a knock on the door, “who the hell can that be?”, he opened the door and saw Kyojuro, he looked exhausted as usual, but he was well dressed, his hair looks kind of messy, “can I see her, I need to talk to her…” his voice sounds raspy, “no, also please leave, she doesn’t want company at the moment” Sanemi was about to close the door but Kyojuro put his foot on the side, so it won’t close, “please… I must talk to her…” Sanemi hated being in the middle of this, but he can’t just do nothing, (Y/N) was upset about and to see her not happy, makes him wants to punch the hell out of whoever made her unhappy, “listen Rengoku, I don’t want to beat the living pulp out of you, so if you mind, just fucking leave” “I’m not leaving until I talk to her!” He can see those flames in his eyes again. “Why you-“

“Sanemi, who is that?”, (Y/N) woke up, then Genya woke up after, Sanemi turned around with a sad look, “it’s no one” “that’s a lie, (Y/N) please… come out and open the door so we can talk… please…” (Y/N) was shocked to hear Kyojuro at the other side of the door, Sanemi turn back “dude, I told you-“ “Sanemi, let me go talk to him” she stood and walked over to the door, Sanemi turned back, with sternness, but he couldn’t say no, so he opened the door fully and walked to his room and told Genya to follow, but before the two boys went to Sanemi’s room, Sanemi said this, “if you hurt her, your dead you hear”, and both the both the boys were out of sight, it was just (Y/N) and Kyojuro.

“What is it, Rengoku…”

“Look I know you hate me, but please hear me out…” he stepped in and got a little closer.

(Y/N) sighed and nodded in response.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, that I ignored your text, your calls, and most of all, I’m sorry that I ignored you, it breaks my heart to see you so sad and stressed out, to see you so scared and frightened of me, I don’t want you to see me as my father, I'm truly sorry, please forgive me… I’ll never treat you like this ever again…” his voice was cracking while he talked, but it truly hurt to see him like this, “I’ll prov- prove to you that I’m a worthy husband to you…” he was quivering, “I- I- love you- you, (Y/N)… please don’t leave me… I’m sorry…” “please… I’ll do better-“ 

(Y/N) hugged him back she was sobbing, but at least she didn’t walk away from him, he hugged her back, and kept saying sweet sorrys, in her ears, giving her kisses, and making her feel loved…

“I’m sorry… my love…”

“Kyojuro… I forgive you…”

“You do!” he sounded like a lost puppy and that make her laughed

“Yes, Koy” she smiled 

Kyojuro had the brightest smile, and it made her even more happy.

She hugged him again and he hugged back, “hey koy~”

Hm~”

“Love the new you~” she hugged around his waist.

He blushed, “(Y/N)…” he said shyly he covered his face on her shoulder.

She giggled, “I love you, koy~”

“I love you too, sweetheart~”

[butcherknives]

The Holidays with the Sparda Men

Prompt kinda got away from me and became more of a pre-game than an actual holiday moment, but hopefully it’s fun and enjoyable all the same.

Ft. GN! Reader from the Devil May Cry series

> SFW

At first you believe that holidays aren’t exactly his “thing.” That it’s painted by a religion that isn't his, and it’s too bathed in traditionalism where Dante is anything but, between his attitude, his appearance, and his lifestyle. You think this, yet as the holidays grow closer, you notice that his mood seems to weaken and crumble. He isn’t irritable or sour. No, that isn’t it at all. You know Dante and his facades; this you recognize as depression.

You live within your perplexity only for a short time before you decide to ask. Side by side on the worn leather couch, your knee pressed against his as he reclines in a languid arch, you pose your observation with as much tact as you can muster. “You seem down.”

Without turning his head, his eyes slide toward you. He sweeps over your expression and you can feel the way he’s analyzing – likely approximating what you’ve gleaned. With quiet huff though his nose, he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Well, damn. And here I thought I was the embodiment of ole Saint Nick.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

The silence that stretches is full of rumination. Dante is weighing his options, isn’t he? Considering if it’s worth telling you the truth. Your heart hammers in your chest as he measures you, weighs you, and finds you...

“I always feel kinda eh around the holidays.”

...worthy.

You wait with hopeful patience, quelling your thoughts and over-eager questions because there’s a physical shift, one there beneath the immediate surface, that tells you he has more to say. You rest your hand on his thigh and tip forward, attempting to remain a source of comfort.

He cracks one eye open to peek at you. The look you offer makes him sigh, sit up, and shake his head on a roll of his shoulders. “I guess it reminds me of my family. You know, sad little boy stuff.”

Oh.

What had the holidays been like before tragedy? And what had they been like prior to your arrival? You simmer on this for perhaps too long because Dante is visibly retreating into himself with that sideways, self-deprecating smile that warns you precisely where he’s about to bury his emotions. You rise to your feet. “Your family!”

He tips his head, lips flattening into pulled confusion-mirth-weariness that makes you switch your hips on a sheepish laugh.

“Yeah,” you continue. “What about your family?” The light has yet to click on. You continue with swelling emotion. “Vergil and Nero? And Lady, and Trish...” You bounce on the balls of your feet. “We could invite them over and do something fun. Like... Like a party.”

There’s slow realization dawning like the sunrise across Dante’s face and it’s equal in beauty. The sparkle in his eyes; the smile curling at his lips as he drops his forearms into his lap and leans forward until he’s grinning with silent, crinkled laughter. “A party, huh?”

“A holiday office party,” you say with an eager nod.

This does make him laugh. “You might just be onto something.”

“So, what do you think?” You watch as he rises to stand in front of you, his hand combing through his hair. “I think we could pull it off together. It could be a lot of fun.”

“Alright,” he says with an exaggerated shrug. “What the hell?” As lackadaisical a response it is, you can see his happiness. “You wanna decorate? I’ll send out the invitations.”

You agree with a grin, tipping forward to kiss his scruffy cheek, and as you saunter off toward the desk to gather a piece of scrap paper and a pen to start your planning, you feel much lighter than you had before.

“Hey,” he says and you spin to look. “Think we could get Morrison to dress as Santa?”

You laugh.

Vergil doesn’t seem to care that the holidays are around the corner, nor does he indicate any desire to celebrate. You’ve been mulling over how to breach the subject, not from fear but rather uncertain of what judgement he may pass. Surely, if you find any importance in the season, Vergil will indulge you to the best of his ability; you know this and yet you find yourself wondering if he’s fully against them in their entirety. He’s shown open disinterest in religion – Fortuna, you deduce, left a bad taste – but you think, perhaps, he might be open to a bit of spirit. At the very least, you’d love the excuse to have him spend time with the rest of his family.

Your answer comes in the form of a red wax-sealed envelope delivered to your home. Perplexed, you study the writing on the worn paper and see there is no return address listed. Curiosity guides your hands to the seal yet you stop yourself, deciding to share this moment with Vergil.

You find him in the study with several opened books across his desk, exactly as he had left them the night before. The door is open yet you knock to announce your presence. He doesn’t look up as he waves you in.

“I’ve yet to decipher these texts,” he says as you plop into the armchair across from where he stands. “I’m afraid the language may be too far removed from more recent demon tongue.”

“It’s fascinating how even demon language evolves.” He raises his gaze and you smile, lifting the envelope for him to see. “By the way, this came in the mail today. It’s got a wax seal. Think it might be important?”

Vergil’s attention flits to the envelope, then back to you. “Ominous.”

“Mm,” you agree. “Could be some wild invitation to battle to the death. Shall I open it?”

He nods, gesturing with a hand to carry on. You find anticipation builds as you peel back the seal and remove the folded letter within. The handwriting is scrawled, the penmanship overly decorated, but the words are thick, black and bold, as if written with an inkwell.

“Might need some more books to decipher this text, too,” you say with a snort, flashing the paper at Vergil who rolls his eyes in amusement. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.” You clear your throat with theatrics and shake the letter out, settling into your chair. “Dearest brother,” you start before you laugh. “Oh, spoiler alert.”

Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dante...”

“Ever the showman,” you answer. “Okay, here we go.”

Dearest brother, I hope this letter finds you in good health and with haste, as time is not on our side. With the change of the season, I find myself longing to indulge in what has been described to me only as “holiday spirit.” It is for this reason that I cordially invite you and your love to my humble home for drink, company, and merriment. Sincerely, Dante

There’s a silence that follows during which Vergil rises to his full height. He closes his eyes while he folds his arms across his chest. You’re biting back your delight. “He sure knows how to make an entrance,” you say.

Vergil shakes his head before he holds out his hand, and without hesitation, you give him the letter. He scans the paper with pursed lips and brows drawn, then exhales a long-suffering sigh. “My brother has a propensity for theatrics.”

“And you don’t?”

He turns to you and for a moment, he seems scandalized. He flattens his expression. “It seems as though you already have an opinion.”

“The correct opinion.” There’s a playful thread between your banter and you can’t help but smile. “But so...” You tip your head and pull an accent that isn’t yours, “What say you?”

Vergil stares. For a moment, you think he’s going to admonish you, and yet his smile simmers with a telltale gleam. Your heart soars.

“Shall we respond in kind?”

You’ve decorated your shared space with lights and a tree, filled the living room with cheerful music, and hung stockings above the heater where you’ve joked that it’s the closest to a fireplace you have. You do this, and never once has Nero complained. He’s even assisted with stringing the lights around the top of the wall, further than you can stretch. Despite not being quite as enthusiastic about the holiday, you appreciate his acceptance of yours.

Beneath the glow of the flickering multi-colored lights, you’re placing a new ornament on the tree when Nero enters the front door. Clutched in his hand is an open envelope, familiar prickled irritation in the line of his shoulders.

“Welcome back.” Your brows knot in surprise. “What’s that?”

“Something stupid,” Nero answers. “It’s from Dante.”

You grin as you rise to your feet, clamoring over to the entrance while he’s distracted with shutting the door. He gets out a quick, “Hey!” before you snatch the envelope from his grip, spinning out of immediate reach.

“Oh, a seal? Fancy,” you’re saying as you slide the letter from its confines. Nero is following behind you, but each half-hearted swipe has you dodging. It’s a joyous dance that makes you giggle and you know that Nero isn’t truly angry; it’s for show when he throws his hands up and lets out a long groan, collapsing in a chair in front of the television like a cut marionette. “Did you read it yet?”

He sighs, jiggling his knee. “Got as far as the first line.”

You grin. “Then let’s read it together, hm?” Moving to stand behind him, you drape your arms around his shoulders and orient the letter in front of you both, resting your chin on the top of his head. “Oh, his handwriting is...”

“Fucking awful?” Nero supplies.

“Ornate,” you agree with a laugh. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.”

Dearest nephew, I bid you and yours good tidings! I am writing to cordially invite you and your loved one to join me at my abode for a holiday celebration this solstice. Fret not, for I will provide accommodations during your stay in the city of Red Grave. Sincerely, Dante

“What –”

“A party!” You unravel yourself from Nero’s warmth to sidle around him, beaming. “We’re definitely going.”

Nero stares at you and you stare back. There’s silence while his expression works into exhaustion. Nero breaks it with a click of his tongue. “Why’d he have to invite us to a party like an old vampire?”

“Why not?”

He snorts. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Just never would’a taken Dante for a family holiday kinda guy.”

You tilt your head with a patient stare, considering. “Well, Dante hasn’t really had a family until recently.” Nero quirks a brow. “I mean, you only got real confirmation a few months ago and Vergil –”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, waving his hand. Right, you think. Still a sore spot. “So you think Dante’ll invite him?”

You nod your understanding, slow and careful. “I think that’s likely.”

Nero’s lips mesh together as he nods, eyes falling to the floor, faraway in thought.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you say.

It takes Nero a moment to regain focus, but when he does, he’s looking at you with heavy deliberation. He’s reaching for your hands, drawing you into orbit until you’re standing between his knees. His thumbs rub small circles into your skin and you bask in his warmth. “You wanna go, right?”

“Could be fun,” you answer.

His chest fills on a deep inhale before he’s accepting his fate with surprising ease. “Okay, then can ya do me a favor and grab me the phone? I’ll let ‘im know.”

You grin. “You got it.”

[cunningambitousdetermined]

i need a plot for this

yall so ive been trying really hard to get back into writing and i went to a writing camp this summer. im going to post a poem that i wrote there later bc im super proud of it but right now i have something else i need help with. SO basically there was a prompt about someone finding a letter or a note. that’s the prompt. so i wrote something, really liked it BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TO TAKE IT FROM HERE. my basic ideas involve the two characters meeting each other again to do SOMETHING WHICH I DONT KNOW and slowly arcane (youll see when you read the story below) thaws and falls in love with kalon and kalon has always been in love with her and its like best friends to enemies to friends to lovers ya know? ANYWAY if you dont hate me for being inactive and needy, please read this and help me. 

Dear Arcane,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 10 years. Wow. I don’t even know if you’ll ever get this, you could’ve moved. You could be dead. Oh god, that’s dark. You’re not dead, someone would’ve told me, I’m sure. So that must mean that there’s a good chance you have this, but I’m not even sure if you’ll read it.

He was right, as he most often was. Arcane had not planned to read the letter from the moment she read her name on the envelope, written in a neat sort of messy handwriting that could only come from one person. The letter had been sitting at her desk for a week before memories began to drown her and she knew she had to open it.

That’s not the point though, I’m sure you’ll read this. You’ve always been a sucker for the intimacy of written letters. Maybe that’s why I wrote to you instead of calling.

Arcane closed her eyes, the pounding of the memories at the door slowly consuming her. She took a deep breath and let them in. The whispers started to fill the room, every word echoing off the walls, like her past had become a living, breathing thing in her room. How could he write her now? After all these years. Anger reared it's small head in the back of her mind. How could he be so casual as if he wasn't the boy who ripped her heart out and tore it to pieces. 

Maybe it’s because I did read all the letters you wrote to me. Even after the voicemails stopped filling my phone and the emails ran dry, your letters kept coming.

She remembers writing those letters, the pen shaking in her hand as it hit the paper. She remembers wondering what you said to someone like him, a friend who left you behind. The squeeze in her chest that tightened each time he didn’t reply. The break in her heart when the last letter she ever wrote was returned to her doorstep.

If you’ve read this far without tearing my letter to pieces, then I would say this is a good start to our reunion. I’ve missed you. Your stubborn ways, always trying to keep me safe. But you always came with me wherever I went anyway. I miss your secret smile, the one you saved just for me. The treehouse we built in your yard. Do you miss that? I wonder if you wonder about me. I wonder if I can even ask that of you.

She did miss them. But, those things that she missed were long gone. The treehouse was overgrown with vines, Arcane was sure you couldn’t even get into it anymore. She went with him on his stupid adventures because what would she do if he left and met new people? He would leave her and she would be alone. So she desperately followed him blindly, hoping it would keep him close. Arcane missed her secret smile, the genuine one she had always saved for him. He missed it. How could he miss something that he destroyed. With his one and only letter to her, he demolished any leftover love for him that hid in her heart. He couldn’t ask if Arcane wondered about him. That wasn’t fair. That night, ten years ago, was still a raw wound in her soul that she was pretty sure would never heal.

~

The rain was relentless that night, banging against every edge of the house, but a little girl was waiting by the door, not even flinching as the lightning and thunder clapped furiously. Arcane peeked her head above the window frame to find the mailman running through the storm, his frantic steps pounding through the floor of the house. Her eyes lit up with a hope that was slowly fading with each mail drop. She opened the door and hid the small smile that started to spread up her face with a cough.

“Hi, Dan!” Arcane’s voice gave away the excitement that was flooding her system.

“Hey, Arcane.” Dan couldn’t help the pitiful grin that he gave her. She waited by the door for him every day and each day there was no letter for her. It must be soul-crushing, he thought, waiting for a letter that never comes.

“Is there…?” Arcane was practically on her tiptoes at this point. Dan rifled through the letters, dread settling as her name wasn’t there. Again. And then there was a squeal. “Oh, Dan! I found it! I knew- I knew it- I told them!” Her sentences didn’t even come out fully as she beamed, her smile brighter than any ray of the sun.

Arcane had run into the house, a breeze following in her wake. Plopping down into the soft plush couch, she ripped open the envelope, not caring about the paper that flew everywhere in the room. A paper fluttered out, floating toward the ground. Arcane grabbed it, hands shaking, she could practically feel the sweat dripping down her face. Words were the easiest way to break someone. The letter only contained eleven words, yet they would stick with her for the rest of her life.

Stop writing me. None of it was real. You were nothing.

Eleven words. And they shattered her. Crumbling, shattering, a million pieces breaking. Sobs racked through her whole body, her chest shaking and trembling with each broken breath. She caught her face in the mirror hanging off the pale wall and didn’t recognize the girl that stared back. You were nothing. A scream tore through her, the ache of her heart so raw that even the sun seemed to cry, rain dripping onto the panes of the windows. And slowly, so very slowly, Arcane buried the ache and gathered the shattered pieces of her heart and encased them in an impenetrable cage, never to opened again.

~

The ache was still present now, ten years after the letter had arrived. The dullness of her buried hurt made her clench her fists around the letter that sat in her hand now, the same lopsided handwriting adorning it.

But, that’s not why I’m writing this letter. I’m writing this with an actual purpose, if you can imagine that. I didn't just write to rehash our friendship. 

Arcane could feel her eyes narrowing, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the inanimate piece of paper. An actual purpose? To break her heart all over again? This time she did roll her eyes, even though no one was there to see it. But, it wasn’t the fact that he wrote her after all these years or that his tone was friendly throughout that made her body freeze. It was the last line that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

In all the years that Arcane had known him, he'd never been very dependent. He often just struggled in silence and figured them out on his own. Not once, not ever, had has asked for help. But, there the sentence was inked in his slanted, loopy writing. 

I need your help.

Love,

Kalon

  ~~everything below here is stuff that doesnt have to be a part of the story but i still liked it and where it was going (idk please give me ideas)~~

The quiet, shock of the room seemed to weigh on Arcane. She flopped back onto her bed, the soft pillows cushioning her landing. I need your help. Those few, simple words, tugged at the strings that bound her heart. He needed her. The thought was fleeting as just as quickly as it came, it left. In its spot was anger. Now he needed her? After all those years when she needed him? What did he do then? Nothing. And that’s what she was going to do now. She huffed in satisfaction, tossing the envelope to the side. Her fingers reached into her hair, massaging her head. There were too many things to think about right now. Arcane squeezed her eyes shut as memories stung her eyes in the form of tears. 

~

“Please, don’t leave me.” Arcane had whispered, her small breaths filling the one room of the treehouse. 

“I don’t have a choice. You know I don’t want to go.” Kalon’s voice broke and he looked away so Arcane couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. It was silent. 

“We’ll still be best friends right?” 

“Yeah.” Kalon’s reply didn’t hold much conviction, causing Arcane to look over at him, confused, glossy eyes narrowing. 

“To the moon and back, Kal, remember?” She said, her tone desperate. It was a promise they made one night as they were watching some cheesy movie on the old television set. The boy had told the girl that he loved her too ‘the moon and back’. Kalon had then explained that the two characters said that so that they would never be apart. They could meet at the same moon, always and then they could go back. And then, they would never be fully apart. Arcane had liked that. So naturally,  she had grabbed Kal’s face and made him promise that they would go ‘to the moon and back’ if they were ever apart. It became a goodbye for them, a way of saying ‘I’ll see you soon’. 

“Yeah,” Kal had replied, a smile barely curling through his lips, “I’ll race ya there.”

~

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, letting her memories flow down her cheeks and into the bedsheets, but eventually she had to get up. She pulled herself up and off the bed, limbs protesting at the use. She just needed a few days is all, then she wouldn’t even remember what she was crying for.  Kalon didn’t mean anything to her anymore.

thank you for reading this far, i love all of you. just throw out ideas please. or give me some advice, i would love that. whether its about my writing or the plot i would love to have tips and constructive criticism on how to get better! tagging some moots who i hope dont hate me after this below the cut:

@natashxromanovf @pad-foots @griffxnnage @voidmalfoy @flxss-bxbblxs @alwaysreading @herondalesunsetcurve THANKS YALL I LOVE YOU MORE THEN I EXPRESS AND I DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT DESERVE ALL OF YOU AND YOUR LOVE

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU Pt. 7 (1...6)

tw: general Howard Stark warning

----

So, here’s the thing.

Peter meant to ask May about the letter the night he got it back from Tony, He really did. But then everyone was in such a good mood, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter that to satisfy his own curiosity.

So then he meant to ask the next day.

And he tries, he really does.

But the letter feels as heavy as an anvil in his desk drawer and Peter is too nervous to ask about it. Something always comes up or he gets too scared to shatter the image of the good, obedient nephew he is, one who doesn’t go rifling through mail not addressed to him, prying into personal business.

So he flusters and stumbles pretty badly for the first couple attempts. He changes topic quickly, pretending like he was going to ask about something else, asking himself where exactly his business ends and where his curiosity begins.

Once during a gymnastics comp he stopped mid routine to check on a rival who had fallen from the rings and injured themselves. His coach asked when he was going to stop being a goddamn martyr.

He shakes the Magic 8-Ball on Monday morning and asks the universe if it’s an appropriate time to approach May.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, that’s not what his flagging courage had hoped for. He shakes it again.

Ask again later.

One more time, harder.

Better not tell you now.

“What the hell,” he whispers, placing it haphazardly upon where he took it. “That’s bullshit.”

“What’s with the potty mouth,” May asks suddenly from behind him. He turns as she’s affixing some dangling earrings to her ears. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just - do you have a minute?”

She checks her watch. “I have about forty seconds. Is something wrong - are you okay?”

“No - I mean yes, I’m okay. Are...are you?”

“Top of the world, bubby,” she scoops her keys from the bowl, approaching him with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no easy way to ask without blatantly admitting to going through her things, and the last thing he wants her to think is that she can’t trust him.

“I just mean. If you weren’t. If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” her face falls. “You’re acting strange, Pete.”

“I just worry, that’s all.”

You’re all I have left, is what loops over and over in his mind, but doesn’t say. She seems to hear it anyway, rushing forward and kissing his forehead, her perfume filling his nose.

“Everything is fine, bubs. The second it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go, but stop worrying okay? That’s my job. You have a good day.”

She hurries to scoop up her handbag and closes the door before he’s broken out of his thoughts long enough to reply. He sighs and shakes the stupid ball again before he leaves as well.

Cannot predict now.

Of course.

Just for once he’d like fate to be firmly on his side.

---

Something smells weird.

It’s sharp, chemical and not entirely unpleasant. Noticeable, however, sharp enough to cut through the usual musty smell of the library. It’s like apple cider, but overpowers the usual library smell of old books and dust and pencil shavings, a scent Peter has long associated with study, solitude, and the easing of his anxious heart from a gallop to a steady stride.

It’s not a bad smell, just misplaced.

And Tony’s been acting strange all study period. Like, weirder than normal - and his resting state of normal is already ineffably frenetic and bewildering, so this was an entirely different carton of eggs.

Peter doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, they’re kind of on a tenuously peaceful truce, a silent lay down of arms, so to speak.

Well, as peaceful as a truce can be while they call each other all sorts of names and rib each other over literally any sign of weakness, but still. They have some sort of an understanding now, and it’s all relatively innocent, good natured banter.

Mostly.

Peter for sure could have done without being called fuck-face-mcgee upon entering the library, but he’s willing to let it pass. He was late, after all.

“Anyway,” Peter says, sitting across the table from Tony, “so I think if we removed the monthly gym membership, we’d have an extra sixty per month that could go towards other stuff.”

“Like what?” Tony’s face pinches.

“I don’t know, like a college fund?”

“Ridiculous idea. I need that membership,” Tony rebukes, shrugging his leather jacket off, hooking it over the back of the chair. “When else am I supposed to get a reprieve from you and the cabbage patch?”

“When do I get a reprieve? I’m the money-maker. When do I get my break from work and childcare?”

“At work. What are you, like an art teacher or something? Your whole day is like a rich, white woman's vacation. Parents don’t get a lunch break.”

“Right. I’m sure watching Dora and burping an infant is as hard as teaching a class of thirty.”

“Wow. So dismissive. I mean, if you were a good spouse, you would give your withered and weary husband a break from screaming babies and shitty diapers.”

“Mhmm. That would mean I’d have to do something nice for you, and that doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony shakes his head. “We’re getting a divorce as soon as Molly is old enough to pick me as the superior parent,” he points to Peter’s papers. “Put that in the notes.”

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, willing himself not to lean over the table and smack the other boy.

“You are not the superior parent. You’re the deadbeat that forgets to pick her up from school and day drinks.”

“And yet, she loves me the most. You’re just the breadwinner who comes home grumpy every evening. I’m the cool dad.”

“Fine, keep your druglord baby. I never wanted kids anyway.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the car.”

“I’m keeping the apartment.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They snicker quietly in a rare moment of camaraderie before a lightbulb goes off in Peter's head.

“What if we used the membership, but cut costs elsewhere, like, cutting our own hair and stuff. We could save for a yearly holiday, go to the beach or something.”

“Florida! Disney, roadtrip, yes,” Tony clicks his fingers towards Peter, smiling wide. “Look at you getting all savvy. Call the judge, the marriage is back on.”

“You can’t go to Disney for a few hundred dollars, dumbass, that’s barely the price of admission,” Peter scribbles on his pad, making note of their ideas. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s surprising. Isn’t that where all rich white people take their baby sociopaths to beat up their first mascot?”

“One, I was never a baby, I emerged fully grown, and two, could you imagine Howard Stark within a mile of the happiest place on earth? He’d have a fucking stroke,” his face changes like he’s had an epiphany. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Peter doesn’t mention that he doesn’t personally know Howard Stark but is willing to take Tony’s assessment at face value. That being said, he can’t imagine Tony, now, voluntarily heading to Disney without coercion or the promise of copious quantities of alcohol. He’d probably smoke and cuss and scare away small children.

He mind lingers on that particular characterisation, and for a moment tries to picture what Tony looked like as a kid, if he was a chubby, toothless little brat, can’t help then imagining him with Mickey Mouse ears, gleefully running through his gigantic home, harried caretakers running after him.

He must have been the worst.

“I’ve never been further than Washington,” Peter offers, “but that was for AcDec, so it wasn’t like we got to see much.”

“You did Academic Decathlon?”

“Yep.”

“Ew, why would you do that to yourself.”

“I still do it. It looks good on college applications and it’s fun,” he shrugs. “I like it. I’m good at it.”

Tony’s hands cover his mouth, but it doesn’t stifle the rising apple of his cheeks or the mirth in his voice.

“I’m feeling so much second-hand embarrassment for you right now.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, kicking him under the table, satisfied when the other boy winces. He fails to smother his own wince when he gets a kick in return, right in the kneecap. “Nothing wrong with being an intellectual.”

“You’re a fucking nerd, four-eyes.”

“What about you?” Peter rolls his eyes, keen to change the subject. “Been outside New York?”

Tony shrugs, tapping his pen on the pad, looking anywhere but at him. “When I was younger I’d sometimes go on my dad's business trips to Europe or Japan or whatever. And we have a house in Malibu.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Tony snorts. He shuffles on his seat, sliding their notes over and making further amendments in quick strokes, the cheap pen spurting bright red ink over the paper like arterial spray.

“Oh yeah, it was a real blast.”

Spoiled brat.

“Are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

“With my family?” Tony looks up. “No, I’d rather stick my head up a turkey’s ass. You?”

Without warning, Peter’s hand flies to cover his mouth, unable to  but snort at the imagery, He’s not sure if Tony just doesn’t get along with his family or if he’s still stuck in that churlish, ‘too cool to be around my parents’ stage of adolescence. It’s one the idiosyncrasies that would have annoyed Peter before, his ungratefulness of having a family that’s still alive would be just another thing for Peter to hate him for.

Now, he thinks, he’s beginning to parse out when Tony’s being sincere and when he’s  hyperbolic, finally recognising the latter as a mechanism to throw someone off a topic that makes Tony uncomfortable. He sees it - the warning lights and stop signs in barbed coding, wrapped up in dry wit and sarcasm.

Peter is like that sometimes, too.

And what the hell would Peter know about having a normal family.

“Yeah, actually, for once,” he says softly. “My aunt - not May - and uncle have a holiday home up north, so we’re staying with them over the long weekend.”

“S’cool. May’s family?”

Peter shakes his head. “Sort of - they’re not actually related, but May and Margaret have been best friends since college, so.”

“Is Margaret a babe, too?”

Peter throw a chewed-up pencil at him that he catches easily.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not,” he throws the pencil back, overshooting and hitting the shelves behind them. “What are we talking, on a scale of haggard to hottie.”

“I don’t know, man. You seem to have questionable taste in the people you are attracted to.”

Tony grins crookedly, eyes shining with something Peter can’t decipher. “Ain't that the truth.”

“What’s the supposed to --” he stops himself, suddenly recognising what the strange scent was that he’d been picking up. “Wait - dude, are you wearing cologne?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he responds. “No,” he denies, just as the bell rings. “Oh, look at that, time to get to class.”

Saved by the bell.

“So, this is it,” Tony nods, shutting the lid of his laptop as the bell signals the end of their free period. “We’re done. The assignment. That’s the last of it, right?”

Dazedly, he watches Tony stuffing his laptop and notes into his backpack, brow creasing as his mind catches up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Send me your notes tonight, I’ll stitch them together with mine and send them back.”

“Okay,” he sluggishly collects his own notes, picking up the bag by his feet. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Well, Parker,” Tony slings his backpack on his shoulder, shuffling backwards, “we didn’t kill each other. I mean, not for a lack of wanting on my behalf.”

‘’Yeah, from Wednesday we’re free. We can go back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s grin fades. They stare at each other for a long moment that could have been seconds or hours, he doesn’t know, until the second bell rings.

“Hey, um --”

“I’ll send you the notes later,” Tony interrupts, sotto voce. “I gotta get to class. See you around.”

Something in his stomach deflates, sadly and slowly, like a balloon with a pinprick, emptying itself until it’s an uncomfortably hard to digest crumpled mass at the base of his stomach. He pastes on a smile and looks out the window, hoping the feeling doesn’t show in his eyes.

That’s when he notices the leather jacket Tony has left behind, still slung over the back of the chair.

“You left your…” he trails off, turning back, but Tony is already long gone, probably already halfway to his next class. Like a bat out of hell, Peter thinks wryly, picking up the jacket, the leather smooth like butter under his touch, still warm around the collar where Tony’s had been leaning against it.

No good leaving it here to get stolen or be tossed into lost property. He decides to take it with him, folding it gently over his arm. He’ll give it back when he sees him again, maybe after school.

“Nice jacket, Parker,” Flash says approvingly when Peter bumps into him out in the hall.

At first he thinks he’s referring to Peter’s ratty hoodie, and it confounds him for a moment because it’s decidedly not nice, but then he realizes he’s referring to the leather in his arms.

“It’s not mine,” he replies a little too late, because Flash is already down the hall, out of earshot.

Peter sighs. It’s beginning to become a depressing theme.

---

The weird feeling in his chest doesn’t subside all afternoon, and into the evening Peter is starting to think maybe he just has indigestion, like acid reflux or something. Must be the chilli surprise from lunch. Maybe he’d missed his meds.

He sends his portion of the final notes to Tony’s email, turns off his computer and switches on Colbert.

---

It’s not until hours later, well after midnight and the infomercials are playing, only then does his phone buzz against his thigh with a response.

Figures that Tony would be a night owl like him.

> soz was distracted > youtube spiral

Peter shifts downwards on the bed, holding the phone over his face. < s’ok  < what were you watching  > say yes to the dress  < lmao really > lol no > anyway, looks good. ur notes > will print off for u to sign tomorrow < is that a compliment or an admission u were wrong about me 

> neither. One subject does not a genius make  > unlike me, an actual genius

In your dreams, dipshit, he wants to type, but doesn’t, not really keen to provoke a muddy discussion on who is the smartest (it’s definitely Peter).

< u left ur jacket in the library btw, I have it, he texts instead, his pulse jumping when Tony replies with crying emoji’s.

Tony sends him a snap, unexpectedly, a sad face that makes Peter snort. His face seems distressed, the caption reads, thought i lost it for good.

Shifting down further on the bed, he’s feeling suddenly and inexplicably courageous, fire burning up from his belly button to his fingers.

Peter takes a silly photo of himself and sends it back. > didn’t want it to get stolen < aw u care

“I do not,” he whispers to himself.  > i do not. come collect it after school tomorrow or im throwing it out. < u wouldn’t do that to me > there’s a lot of things i would do 2 u  > ....  > um  > lol 

 Peter’s face flames at the implication. He reads over what he just so carelessly typed, stomach positively knotted with embarrassment. Oh god, that is not what he meant. His fingers fly over the screen at record speed as he types out a response. < NOT LIKE THAT < I MEANT IT IN A THREATENING WAY < I’M LITERALLY GAGGING > yikes > ur dirty talk needs work < no it DOESN’T bc we’re not sexting > sure jan > damn. didn’t kno u had it in u bubs < i don’t have it in me > not yet > ;)

Despite the deep blush still heating his face and his heart galloping in his chest, a laugh breaks out of him. The phone in his hand vibrates again. > jk jk, not ever > need to bleach my brain now 

Slowly gliding back to earth he types out a response. < ikr me too < ugh.

He puts his phone down on the bed, looking up at the water-stained ceiling, amusement slowly fading. His pulse though, that doesn’t return to normal.

How could it when his mind suddenly runs away from him, evoking short-lived, but nonetheless strikingly vivid images of intertwined legs, planes of pale skin, and lush lips. How can the heat in his stomach escape when his thoughts conjure phantom sensations of a soft mouth sucking on his neck, the punishing grip of hands on his hips and the warmth and weight of another body on top of his own.

A forehead leaning against his, brown eyes that knocked his pulse off kilter.

The taste of nicotine.

Stop it.

That is dangerous territory right there. And a line he doesn’t want to cross.

Shaking his head, Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, looking anywhere for a distraction; his window, the posters on his wall, his figurines on his shelves, anything to douse the low-burning fire in his gut.

Standing, he heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed, banging their crappy old heater with his fist to get it working again.

He takes a very cold shower.

----

It’s not that Peter doesn’t enjoy sex.

Not that he’s had it.

But he enjoys jerking off, at least. Like a regular amount, whatever that is for a teenage boy. He likes kissing. Likes thinking about one day being in a real relationship and exploring someone's body and he likes exploring what turns him on and what he doesn’t.

It’s just that he doesn’t let himself think of anyone he knows personally that way, no matter how conventionally attractive they are - not Thor, and especially not him.

Typically, his fantasies are people with vague features, sometimes with bodies like those he has seen in porn, all shapes and sizes. And that’s safe for him.

He doesn’t want to have to look anyone he knows in the eye and wonder what their lips would feel like pressed against his own. If they’re any good at kissing. If they’re the type to take control or cede it.

He does wonder, sometimes though. No matter how much he denies what or who he wants.

Because it doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a thing. Want is never superficial in his experience, it doesn’t feel good most of the time. It’s deep and sometimes dark, it sinks itself into him with its hooks and it tugs, and keeps tugging. It yields to craving and yearning.

Back in his bedroom, his eyes land on his wall-mounted mirror. It’s small. Like the Mona Lisa. Small enough that he doesn’t have to see his whole reflection if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to crave and yearn for anybody, because he knows it will always be one sided. He’s well aware that he isn’t exactly centrefold material.

Who is gonna look at his weird ears or thin lips, and think, shit, that’s the guy of my dreams. Not with his big glasses or the way his hair twists itself into frizzy, unruly curls once the gel wears off and he starts looking like an unkempt labradoodle.

Who would want to wake up next to him? No one.

So it’s better not to risk imagining anyone real. It’s only in his head that anyone could ever want him back.

His eyes go from the mirror to the jacket folded and placed on his desk. It was intended to be plain sight so he remembers to bring it in - out of sight, out of mind, is what Ben would say. He can still smell the cologne Tony denied wearing earlier.

Once he’s in bed, he turns to face the wall.

Out of sight, out of mind.

---

Maybe Tony subscribes to that mantra as well.

Peter forgets to bring the jacket in all week and Tony doesn’t ask.

---

Danvers wants him fit and ready to be harpooned into the mud by next week; that’s why she looks the other way when Thor and Peter take their informal training in the boundaries of the field, stretching out on the grass as the JV team runs their usual morning drills - drills Peter would have been a part of before his stupid injury and his stupid wrist-brace.

This school is stupid too. Now he has to pay to see a doctor so he can get medically cleared for a sport he doesn’t really care that much about.

Like he didn’t have enough medical bills to deal with.

In any case, he’s not really in a position to complain, because he has the opportunity now to run through his warm-up with Thor, who is taking his direction to spread his legs into a butterfly position so beautifully, even as his knees raise from the ground to make a v-shape, whereas Peter’s lie flat on the grass.

If the last few days had been different, he might have blushed and used the situation at hand as an opening to place his hands on Thor’s knees and applied pressure. But now he just smiles encouragingly and reminds himself that he has no chance - no place - and his hands do not belong anywhere but his own body.

And surprisingly enough, he’s okay about it all.

Thor was a good guy. Peter will never say no to having more friends.

It’s a dreadful, bitter morning. Icy cold, wind biting into his shirt, the grass below them is damp. He has to keep rubbing his hands together so he can restore feeling in his fingers.

To make things worse, Tony is back on the bleachers. White v-neck, jeans and dark sunglasses. Sprawled out over a set of steps, legs askew, arms behind his head, unmoving as if he were napping or sunbathing, appearing like a cocky main out of an eighties movie.

Or a king surveying his kingdom.

Rhodes and Potts slouch on either side of him, swapping phones over his idle figure, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves.

“It burns,” Thor says lightly, hands on his thighs in an attempt to aim his knees to touch the ground.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, despite the ease in which he can lean in. “It just takes practice, dude. Twenty minutes a day, warm up and don’t over-do it. You’ll be limber in no time.”

“You can do this better than I can,” Thor argues, accent thick as he tries to lie flat like Peter.

“And you can lift a hundred pounds better than I can,” he tries to rebut, even as they switch positions, hip flexors aching with old injuries.

While the stretches are like second nature, he doesn’t miss the pressure of training for competition. The eagerness to get into a flat butterfly or oversplit. There was no argument that he spent nights on crunches back then, and he was somewhat toned - but he was shit at weight training. He hated lifting. Reps were more boring, more tedious and difficult and the diet required to give them any value was frankly not worth giving up a great hotdog or a loaded sub from Delmars. He wouldn’t go back to it now.

None of that old heat is there when he inspects Thor’s form. That quick simmer, the call to be closer. That terrible thing, want. All but gone. awe is still there, as he suspects it always would be with someone as outstanding as Thor, but the butterflies have very much flown away.

As he suspected would be the case. He has someone and they’re happy. With the cat out of the bag Thor had shown Peter pictures of his boyfriend all morning. He’d gotten a puppy, apparently, which just tickled Thor. He was so happy it was almost sickening.

When is it gonna be him that sickens someone with photo’s of his partner?

“Hey, Parker,” Tony yells from the stands, “you suck!”

Looking over, the idiot is raised on his elbows and grinning, like he’s proud of himself for a spectacularly unoriginal insult.

Rolling his eyes, Peter gives him the finger and he gets one in return.

His stomach twists and he has to duck his head to conceal his smile.

“Your husband is somewhat rude,” Thor says, following Peter’s example and switching from a pike to a lunge.

Peter looks back over to the stands. A cigarette now dangles between Tony’s full lips, sunglasses slid to the tip of his nose.

That’s how Peter knows he’s looking at him too.

Even from afar his eyes are round and mirthful, framed with ridiculously long lashes like a cartoon mouse, far too outlandish for any real person to have.

“He’s the absolute worst,” Peter bites his bottom lip, quickly averting his gaze. “It was an arranged marriage, to be fair.”

---

Wednesday comes and goes.

Their assignment gets handed in, Peter signs it off to say he did his fair portion of the work and Miss Ahn beams at the both of them when she is handed the thick binder, looking all too pleased with herself.

They have a presentation of their work next week, after Thanksgiving, each pair expected to give five minutes of their life pretending that they’re passionate about schoolwork in front of their fellow students who don’t care.

After that they are completely unburdened. No study sessions, no car rides, and no fries dipped in milkshakes.

They’re embarrassingly hailed as a prime example of people working through their differences, as if they had come together and were now friends or something.

From the front row Tony sneaks a furtive glance at Peter when she applauds them to the class.

“See, kids,” she says, “it wasn’t so bad working together, was it?”

Their eyes meet briefly.

“Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Tony declares, brash and loud, kicking his combat boots onto his desk in a leisurely display.. “That guy is the human equivalent of watching paint dry. Awful.”

“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Be nice.”

Not one to be outdone, Peter lets his horse out of the gate too.

“Singular worst experience of my life. I once had a root canal without anaesthetic and it was less painful than working with him.”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough out of you,” Miss Ahn sighs deeply, walking to the front of the room. “Mr Lang, how did you find the assignment?”

“Very informative…”

From the front row Tony turns in his seat and winks at him.

----

“Thanksgiving plans?” Natasha asks, leaning beside his locker, smothering a smile as he struggles to get his locker open for the nth time that day with one functional hand.

“Visiting my Aunt and Uncle,” he says, finally prying the damn thing open. “They’ve got a place up at Otisco Lake, so. Probably watching old movies and swimming all weekend.”

“Oof,” his friend winces. “That’s a trip. Think the May-Mobile will make the distance?”

The May-Mobile of course to the ancient, ‘89 Volvo 240 that May has been driving ever since Peter was born. She adores it and refuses to trade in, despite the fact that it rarely gets driven, practically haemorrhages gas, and has cost more in repairs in the last five years than the actual value of the car. But May really loves it. It's sentimental. She says it was the car Ben and her picked out together.

“It better make it,” he dumps his books in, closing the locker. “I don’t want to spend the weekend waiting for AAA in the middle of nowhere. What’s your plans?”

She shrugs, walking with him down the hall.

“Probably go and annoy Yelena. Was supposed to spend it with Bucky and his mom, but that ain't happening.”

He bumps her shoulder sympathetically. “Do you think you two will get back together?”

“Probably. But he’s got a shitload of grovelling to do first.”

“Don’t maim him, please. We need him on the team.”

“No promises.”

“Speak of the devil,” Peter adjusts his glasses, spotting Bucky at the base of the stairs talking to somebody. He gets startled, heart jumping when Natasha grabs him by the waist, pushing him towards the wall and inching them closer to the stairs.

“What are you --”

“ -- Shh, I want to listen. Who is he talking to?”

Craning his head, he finds himself in for another surprise when he sees that the other person he’s talking to is --

“He’s… he’s talking to Stark - what...?”

She shushes him again and Peter listens, curious now too.

“... what do you want, Barnes?” Tony visibly grimaces, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “Make it quick. I got places to be and your noxious stench gives me headaches.”

An announcement goes off over the loudspeaker over their head, calling for Brendon Bennett, a dick of a senior, to move his car from where he has blocked a teacher from leaving. It would be funny at any other time, but as it goes, he misses a chunk of their conversation.

“...Rogers isn’t the boss of me.”

“Yes, he is, and I’m not getting suspended again because you’re a pussy and he has roid-rage.”

“I just need an ETA. C’mon, pal, I really need this.”

“I’m not your pal and I don’t give a flying fuck what you need.”

Ever the easy going guy, Bucky puts his hands up placatingly as a group of students file down the stairs, causing enough noise that Peter misses whatever is said next. As he strains to hear he tries to draw the line between the dots, but comes up short on exactly how these two are connected.

“That fucker,” Natasha mutters near his ear.

By the time the students clear, Tony’s descended the stairs and begun to walk away

“I have better things to do than to sit around and wait for you,” Bucky calls out, giving him the finger.”

“And yet you will.”

Not in any possible lifetime was Peter going to address that he was weirdly relieved that Tony didn’t flip him off in return, some part of him petulantly thinking that’s our thing, but that’s wrong - Peter and Tony are not friends and they do not have things, even when they do, it’s not like a thing thing.

Nat grips his hand and pulls him along when Bucky leaves as well, swiftly walking away to avoid being caught. His backpack jostles at the speed and he realizes he’s still clutching Tony's jacket from where he had retrieved it from his locker.

“What was that about?” He asks, struggling to keep up with his friend's furious pace as he’s led down the hall. “Tash?”

She drops his hand once they are outside, her disapproval near palpable, voice laden with fire and fury.

“That’s Bucky being a world class idiot, he’s gonna get himself expelled, I swear.”

Peter stops on the spot.

“Expelled?”

Something dark curls unpleasantly in his gut, heavy and not leaving.

“They have a thing,” she explains hotly, mouth turning down. “Bucky and Stark.”

“What?” Peter breathes, uncomfortably thinking back to the party and the way Bucky overtly complimented Tony’s body. “Like a.... like a sex thing? Did he cheat on you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

Red strands whipping in the wind, his friend looks around to see if there is anyone nearby before leaning in to speak low. He leans in too, unabashedly curious.

“Do you remember when Bucky was having issues with his parents when school started?”

He nods, thinking back to the times Bucky slept over in the late days of summer and early weeks of the school year, once or twice a week to get away from the shouting in his own home.

Natasha continues.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he got really depressed and fell behind with his work and everything he was handing in was terrible. Danvers pulled him up and said if he didn’t get his grades up, he’d be risking his spot on the team. So Bucky paid Stark to write up a few assignments for him, apparently he was doing it for a few kids, like it was a thing.”

...Okay.

That was not good, and definitely disappointing, but -

“Rogers found out. He gave Bucky a warning, but with Stark he threatened to go to Fury.”

Peter thinks back to the fight between their captain and Stark and their fight not long ago. “That’s why they…”

“I’m told Stark snapped, but I don’t know. I found out about the whole paper thing after that and me and Buck fought about it. I just got so mad - he’s - he’s not stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. “He’s going to get himself kicked out of school and I’m so -- I could kill him. We’re supposed to graduate together and get away from our families and go to college, and then he does this.”

“I’m sorry, Tash, I didn’t know,” he hugs her, her body going stiff before relaxing in his hold. “That’s shitty. For both of you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were in on the loop.”

He smiles, self-deprecating.

“Nope, I’m as clueless as ever.”

“No, you’re just too good for that,” she shakes her head. “Look, I gotta go and blow off some steam. Please don’t tell anybody about all this.”

“I won't, I swear - but text me later, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

She ruffles his hair before stepping back.

“You’re a bleeding heart, PP. Keep an eye on that, will you?”

Hearing a squeal of tyres, he whips his head around to the parking lot, the source of the noise. The Firebird squeals out of the lot and onto the road, the sound as angry, the glimpse Peter gets of Tony’s face, even angrier.

He turns back to Nat, but she’s already walked away. Which means she isn’t there to hear him mutter to himself.

“What are you getting into, Tony?”

----

His thumbs hover over his phone that night, as he writes i saw u with barnes today.

He quickly deletes that, not wanting Tony to think that he was following him or spying on him - or worse, thinking that Peter actually cares about what he does. He doesn’t. They’re not friends.

A dread settles in the spaces between his ribs, like thread trying to squeeze them together too tight, his lungs feeling compressed. Maybe it’s his asthma, or allergies.

It’s not and he knows it. He’s disappointed.

He rubs at his chest on his way home thinking about the scene they just saw and about what Natasha said. How is it that so many people in his orbit had this entire entanglement going on without Peter having any whiff of it? It really makes him wonder if they were they good at hiding it or was he just really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to think Bucky was doing okay, that Rogers wasn’t as sanctimonious as he appeared to be, and that Tony was --

Nevermind.

It’s none of his business and it’s not his place.

He knows better than to ask. It’s not as if he can forget all his own secrets that he clutches tightly to his chest, so tight it feels like he constantly walks through life with his fists clenched.

That and, like May, the real truth is that he can’t claim any entitlement to their trust. He eavesdropped in more ways than one these last two weeks. He tries to brush off that dry, sobering thought; it’s none of his business anyway and he has enough on his plate without getting involved.

When are you going to stop being such a goddamned martyr.

So then he thinks about the sheer fury on Tony’s face, how his - how he used to look at Peter the same way, and how Peter used to think that angry and bitter was Tony's default mood. That was that. The status quo.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it. It was easier to dislike Tony when he was distant enough that Peter could pigeon-hole him into a stereotype.

Because Tony got into fights, sure, countless and petty, but he was the guy who pet puppies and snuck them food under the table. Not the guy who kicked them.

He looked like the puppy that was kicked, though.

Not angry.

Wounded.

And that’s what confuses Peter. Turns out he doesn’t really know anything about his friends.

Or Tony, it would seem.

----

May closes the drivers-side door and throws a packet of snacks into Peter’s face.

“Pretzels.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he adjusts his glasses where they'd been knocked askew.

“Sorry, I thought your reflexes were better,” she says, and by way of apology, lobs a packet of sour gummies more gracefully on his lap. “Your favorite.”

“Apology accepted.”

From a plastic bag she fishes out two cokes and places them in the centre console, a bag of red licorice and crackers follow, also making their way onto his lap. She always buys too much food.

Then they’re turning back onto the highway that leads them out of where they paused at Monticello, the radio jacked up loud enough to be heard over the tiny droplets of raindrops sporadically hitting the windshield.

They’ve left early enough that it’s still dark.

Fog still hangs low on the roadside, intangible pale wisps that seem to disintegrate upon crossing, the road dotted with other travellers, but not too crowded, enough so they can easily cruise the speed limit and sometimes over. The Bangles play on a cassette tape and, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, May looks so carefree, driving her sentimental car with the noisy engine, singing along to the same cassettes she’s had since she was his age.

Peter can’t bring himself to say what he wants to. About the letters. One in particular. He knows something isn't right but who is he to break the peace?

So, he doesn’t and they keep driving.

The fog lifts and the tunes continue, both of them singing familiar tunes from ABBA to George Michael and Peter let’s go of what he can’t control and loses himself in the buoyancy of nostalgia - neither of them can carry a tune for shit and it’s funny, and when he rolls his window down he sticks his hand out to feel the frigid air, it’s the most free he’s felt in a long time.

Football and his after-school duties and everything else just drifts away with the wind, at least for this moment.

It was like when he was a kid. The route itself is mostly dark and dull, and this time without Ben, but their usual car games of ‘dollar every time you spot a windmill’ and ‘how many minutes until the next town’ are fun and easily pass the time. This will be another memory that he will gloss over with fondness, how even the boring roads will seem like rapture.

When the sky starts to turn from black to grey they stop for early breakfast at a diner just slightly off their trail in Windsor, both of them famished despite the hoard of snacks and in dire need of coffee.

The car is beginning to emit pale plumes of smoke from under the hood as they arrive at Davis Grove, Otisco Lake in the early morning. The sun rises low over the horizon, a slow ascent that turns the sky grey and brushes wriggling streaks of color over the lake.

The house is exactly as Peter remembers it.

Panels painted slate blue, brown-tiled roof. Two-storeys with a wrap-around porch and a private dock only a short distance away from the entrance. A swinging chair on the lawn that comfortably fits three and a half people.

It looks exactly as it did when Peter first came here as a kid, plucked straight out of his memories in perfect form, like it was set in a liminal space that time refused to touch. A piece comes back to his being at this moment, something that he didn’t know was missing.

Aunt Margaret is already standing at the door when the pull up. She doesn’t look a day older than when Peter last saw her years ago.

“Oh, look at you,” she coos, wrapping Peter up in a tight hug, curls brushing his cheek, “my darling little Petey-pie.”

“Hey, Aunt Margaret,” he returns the hug.

“You’re so tall now, let me look at you,” she holds him at arm's length, warm eyes roving over his form. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you grown a handsome young man? Last time we met you only came up to my shoulders and had braces.” She turns her attention to May. “Isn’t he handsome?”

His aunt nods, smiling at them, both women gravitating into a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Peggy. Thanks for having us.”

“Our pleasure. You look even more beautiful than the last time.”

“Oh, stop,” May releases her, wiping at her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

She tilts her head to the porch and takes May’s duffle from where she has dropped it to the ground. “Come on you two, inside. We’ve got the fire going and scrambled eggs on the table.”

Inside it smells like the best parts of his childhood. A burning fire and butterscotch and lingering musky-but-floral scent from the bowl of potpourri high on the mantel. Even the sounds are the same, the same coo of early birds in the burgeoning daylight, someone humming by the stove.

Margaret leads them into the living room, where her husband meets them halfway from the kitchen, oven mitts still on his hands when he spreads his arms wide to welcome them.

“My goodness,” he beams, “look what the cat dragged in.”

He wears a cravat at the same time he wears an apron, looking every bit the formal yet whimsical man Peter remembers him to be and a crushing wave of nostalgia comes over him so suddenly he can’t help but rush forward and embrace him.

“Welcome, Peter. It’s so good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us, Uncle Ed.”

“What have you taught him,” he points his query to May as he releases Peter to hug her. “You know you can call me Jarvis.”

---

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter and Edwin Jarvis had been young twenty-somethings when they first met. Both were born in England before moving to the US, but it wasn’t until they met at Margaret’s first college that their paths crossed. They worked in different departments, Peter thinks Ed was an engineer or something and Margaret an analyst, but the universe pulled them together eventually.

Margaret asked Ed out first and then a year later, May was the maid-of-honor at their wedding and Ben was reportedly a teary guest in the squeaky church pews.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

A photo of that day sits framed upon the mantle. May and Margaret have their arms around each other, Uncle Ben and Ed standing awkwardly at the sides of the frame, holding up flutes of champagne.

They look so young. Happy.

Peter observes the photo, smiling. He would have been a baby back then. Before his parents and Ben had -- well.

His mind does these weird calculations sometimes. Like, the May in this photo is only nine or so years older than how old he is now, and this moment, suspended in time, makes them closer than they have ever been, even though in real life they are over twenty years apart.

Looking at this picture, it makes him wonder how many people he knows now will live full lives and die of old age. How many people his age will stay forever young, and who will be in the future looking back at their time now, wistfully staring at pictures of those who only exist suspended in that time.

It’s funny, being a teenager. His peers are too young to die so they assume they won't. Even in their twenties and thirties or forties, death seems like an elusive thing that doesn’t apply to anybody until it does. It’s for the decrepit, the sick.

But in Peter’s case death comes like poorly aimed darts, always landing badly and scoring low. In his pockets, his hands turn in fists. He hopes the three people left alive in this picture get to grow old.

He smells her perfume before he sees her. Margaret approaches, bumping their hips together.

“This was a nice day,” she says softly, wistful. “I wish we’d kept more contact over these last few years.”

“Me too,” he smiles sadly, her expression reflecting his. With a hand on his back she leads him to the couch.

“Come on, munchkin, come sit. Tell me how you have been.”

---

“We weren’t planning on the big dinner,” Uncle Ed says as he finishes peeling a potato, handing it to Peter once he’s done. “But we’re so glad you two joined us. Neither of us have a lot of family here, you know.”

“Us neither,” Peter runs the peeled potato under running water to rid it of dirty residue before chopping it into quarters. “It’s really nice to see you again, it’s been way too long.”

“You really have grown into such a nice young man,” the man smiles. “Ben would be proud. Your parent’s, too.”

“Thank you.”

They haven’t got together like this since Ben died a couple years back. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Shit happened and it got harder to try. May got busier with looking after Peter full time and working more - and Uncle Ed quit his job and opened up a garage and Margaret lost a baby - all at the same time.

It was a lot for everyone. Even college best friends moved apart when fate put up walls at every turn.

It seems everyone in his circle is just does their best to survive. Or maybe that’s just what growing up is.

The remainder of their morning is spent eyeing the oven and skedaddling while Margaret prepares her pecan pie, ejecting them out of the kitchen with a forceful shoo.

“May says you’re playing football,” Ed says, leading him out to the lounge, passing him a can of soda. “How’d that happen? Last I checked you were doing splits over a pommel horse.”

Peter shrugs, tapping his can with his fingernails, idly paying attention to the football on the old TV. “Needed an extra-curricular, there was an opening and for some reason they accepted me.”

“You were so good at gymnastics,” Margaret comments from the kitchen, whisking away at her bowl. “I’m sure you’re exemplary in anything you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sculling back the rest of his drink, bubbles burning down his throat. “Looks good on college applications in any case.”

“This kid,” May points to him with her beer bottle. “He does it all, I don’t even know how. He’s brilliant.”

I could do more, he thinks. He wonders again in that moment what it is that makes him so deficient that May couldn’t rely on him to accept the truth about their situation, that maybe he was just too naive. But he’s not. He’d drop his after-school activities and get a job in a hot second if he thought it would help. And for just a split-second he’s mad about that, about being kept in the dark.

But then he sees the strain around her eyes, how the bottle in her hands trembles ever so slightly, how much she makes the hard world soft around them. And it’s easy for him to let that feeling go.

“You’re still freelancing?” Peter asks Margaret, momentarily distracted when Ed’s phone lights up with a call.

“Excuse me, terribly sorry,” he says suddenly, picking up the phone and answering it, rising to his feet to converse in the adjacent room.

“Yes,” Margaret says, eyes lingering over where her husband has gone, his voice carrying over the walls in worried, muffled tones. “Well, consulting. I can work from home, which makes it easier to take care of all my non-existent children,” she gestures to the empty room around them.

“You could go work with Jarvis,” May retrieves a new bottle, popping the cap. “Look after the books, help him replace tyres.”

“Tempting,” Margaret says dully, rolling her eyes. “Can’t understand why I haven’t done that yet.”

Jarvis re-enters minutes later, hands held out apologetically; whispering to Margaret first before he addresses the room.

“Um, we have another guest coming up for dinner, if that’s alright,” he winces at their blank faces. “He works for me. Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite. You know how it gets over the holidays.”

Peter meets May’s eyes and shrugs. Anyone working under the business and is vouched for by his surrogate uncle is good by him.

“The more the merrier,” May raises her bottle.

After that, the kitchen needs his hands again.

---

The afternoon is spent preparing the sides, checking in on the truly gargantuan turkey and indulging their cat with nibbles and head scratches. May and Margaret spend the time drinking beer and cider, reminiscing their college years. It’s nice to hear the house full of laughter, given how somber the mood was when they were last all together.

“When did you get a cat?” Peter directs his question to Jarvis, accepting a peeler from him to attack the carrots.

The cat in question is completely black and delightfully plump, not overly so, but enough to indicate it’s decently fed but probably also a little lazy. Or maybe he just thinks that now that it lies tall on the peak on its scratching post, tail flicking idly while it watches them work tirelessly in the kitchen from above.

“Oh, about a year ago. Gives Peggy some company while I'm in the garage. She’s a sweetheart, this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Friday the Thirteenth. Friday for short.”

“That’s, um, unique.”

“Was the day we adopted her,” Jarvis reaches up to scratch her. “And she’s a black cat, so, you know; spooky.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, considering it. “I like it.”

“Not bad, huh.”

“Yep. It’s a better name than Molly,” he mutters, shaking a slimy carrot shaving off his fingers.

Jarvis pauses. “As in Ringwald?”

Peter sighs and continues peeling.

----

“Did I ever tell you about the time May came to class in a bathing suit?”

“I don’t think they need to hear that --”

“So we have this exam,” Peggy says, ignoring May, “Super important. Fifty percent of our overall grade. She comes in late, dripping wet, the biggest hickey on her neck I have ever seen --”

“Peggy.”

“-- Only thing saving her modesty was Ben’s shirt over her shoulders. I had to lend her a pen so she could sit the exam.”

“Did you pass though,” Peter asks curiously, shovelling a large lump of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Top grades,” she winks at him.

“She sat there for two hours, dripping water onto the ground and got flying colors. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who studied for weeks and got marked down twenty points for --”

The end of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a car approaching the property, headlights flashing through the windows.

Then, a knock at the door.

“Ah, that must be…” Ed trails off, wiping his hand on a napkin before standing. “Excuse me.”

He goes to answer the front door, Margaret continues her story albeit much more quietly until the voices of Ed and their guest filter through, becoming progressively louder.

“Sorry to intrude, I know it’s the holidays --”

Wait. That voice is familiar.

“Nonsense,” Ed interrupts, “you know you’re welcome anytime. You’re practically family, kid. Come in, we’re eating now, you’re just in time.”

Peter’s fork clangs loudly on his plate when he sees their visitor, unable to keep his grip on the utensil as his limbs start to tingle. He forgets how to breathe for a second, entire body going hot.

Ed’s arm is around Tony Stark and they’re approaching through the living room, heading right for them. There’s a fresh cut on his lip and an ugly, wreath of bruising around his jaw and neck, deeply purple, speckled spots of burst capillaries visible from even where he’s sitting.

The worst part isn’t the intrusion. It’s how Tony looks unlike himself; he looks small and skittish, gaze flicking nervously around the room, arms curled around his waist. Something in his chest starts to feel the closer he gets, weird, hot and unwieldy, burning, like a hot poker has been drawn across his sternum.

“You’re the best, Jar...vis,” Tony trails off when he spots the Parkers, eyes zeroing in on Peter.

“Um,” Peter says, sharing a surprised look with May, not knowing what else to say.

But then suddenly Tony is shaking his head, shrugging out of Ed’s embrace and backing up, the skittish look gone and replaced with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No fucking way.”

Then he turns, and leaves.

----

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark

[abused-virgil-oneshots]

You it be a grown up, but you’re still my baby + you're leaving?

TW: Kidnapping, lying, DNA tests, mentions of college, unsympathetic Patton

Virgil had been younger when it happened. Of course he had been, he was barely 18 now. Now he was going to college, or, at least trying to. It was getting rather hard to get the information he needed from his father, Patton. Every time he tried, he made a big fuss about it, the fact that he was looking more to out of state colleges than in state. Saying things like "You may be grown up, but you're still my baby," just a general big fuss about growing up and shit. Like you'd expect most parents too. Or at least like he assumed you'd expect most parents to act. Though it wasn't his fault there weren't as many fine art colleges in state. He wasn't the one who chose the middle of nowhere to live.

Which it was, the middle of nowhere. Getting to school was so difficult they ended up homeschooling for the most part. The only time he saw people was when they went into town every other week. It wasn't like he needed people though, he had his Dad. And books, music, a phone, who needs anything else? He  had friends online, much easier than having in person ones. real life people freaked him out anyway. So he kept online.

He wasn't quite sure what lead up to it. He sent someone a picture, someone in the chat had joked that he looked nothing like his father. He must be adopted or something. Of course Virgil had obviously denied it. That was impossible, and if it was he would've been told. it wasn't like that was some big thing that had to be kept away. Virgil didn't care if he was adopted. He'd still have liked to know. So when he was doing his routine check for college mail, and the kit had appeared in there, he'd done it. He didn't think much of it, just that when it finally came back he'd be able to prove that he was his father's son, his friends would have to believe him then.

So he'd done it and forgot. Mail always took awhile to go back. So a month or two later when Virgil was really burying himself in college stuff from places he'd been accepted, happy with where he had gotten in, while a little disappointed he'd barely received anything back from most of the out of state places he applied, the test was there. He'd thrown it on his desk, getting called downstairs for dinner at the same time he was seeing it there. He left, and after a game night, movie night, and homework night all wrapped in one, came back to it.

He was tired, but still. He wanted to feel the satisfaction of proving them wrong. So when he opened it to bright red, bold words yelling NEGATIVE at him, his blood ran cold. Instantly he was more awake. Talking himself through all the possibilities. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe they'd mailed the wrong results. Maybe he had been adopted. He ran through all his possibilities, yet his mind still jumped to the worst one it could, one planted months ago by a friends joke.

Maybe he was kidnapped.

No, impossible. His father was like, the biggest teddy bear, ever. He was in no way capable of that. Besides, he was so fatherly. There was no way he'd been kidnapped. Impossible. So when Patton-his father knocked on the door he told him.

Yet, no matter how safe he felt with him, he didn't miss the way his eyes went dark. The way his hands scrunched up and crumpled the paper. The way his normal smiled disappeared, even if it was just for a second.

It was the only time he'd ever actually felt scared.

He didn't like it.  

But, just as quick as it had come, it was gone. His father was back to his happy self. Reassuring him that it had to be a mistake. There was no way Virgil wasn't his son, he'd been there when he was born! He had pictures of when he came home! And Virgil didn't know any different.

...Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something was... different now. So, instead of running another test, he bought a different kit. One of those ancestry kits. The ones that could connect him to family members if they were on there. Just, purely because he was interested, not because he was freaked out.

Definitely not because he needed to know if what he was saying matched up.

Plus, if it did, it was no harm no foul. He didn't have to say anything to his father. And as long as he didn't match to anyone he was closely related to, unlikely because the only one he knew was Patton, no one had to know. So when a close relative popped up, he didn't know what to expect.

Certainly didn't expect the match to be parental. And the biggest surprise of all being paternal. Of course he wasn't stupid. He didn't accept the match. He wasn't just going to abandon any belief he had in his dad. Maybe it was a surrogate or something. He looked up the name.

A colossal mistake.

Countless links came through, most saying the exact same things.

BABY TAKEN FROM HOME OF SLEEPING PARENTS, was not the expectation. He had expected a social media profile. Expected to click on a link that told him where the match went to college. He hadn't expected this.

Virgil slammed the computer closed close, his head going too fast to process anything else. He didn't know what to expect, what to do.

He just knew he couldn't stay.

He went through his room, stuffing things in his bag. A charger, his wallet. Any cash he had, granted not much, but enough to get him through a few days. Enough for gas. Enough to give him time to think.

He grabbed his phone off the night stand and went down the stairs as quietly as he could. He stopped in the kitchen, wrapping as much food as he though he could take that wouldn't go bad and went out the front door.

He was not expecting to be met with his father sitting on the front porch.

He must've known.

Maybe he didn't.

He had too.

"What are you doing still up?"

"I could ask you the same question," Virgil counted the seconds, waiting for the next response. "You know."

"I do."

"And you're leaving?" It wasn't really a question. "Without saying goodbye? Did I raise you that badly?" That wasn't much of a question either.

"I just... I need to think is all," Virgil stepped back as Patton stood up.

"You can't think here? Where do you plan on going anyway? Did you think this all the way through Vee?" He hadn't. It hadn't really mattered though, he needed out. He couldn't stay. "I'm just worried for your safety. You wouldn't ask long out there. It's not nearly as safe as here."

"I'll be back in a few days. I promise Dad."

"No, you won't. You can't go Virgil. It's not safe."

"Well I am going. You can't stop me."

"Virgil," he reached for Virgil's arm, and Virgil took what he could as an opening as he shoved past him, not expecting to get hit in the back of the head with something hard. Well, that wasn't the plan.

///1239 words Haha! I wrote! I did things! Thank you for the prompt!

Taglist:

@just-violet-flowers

[mini-moongi]

My Lover, Love Letter || kth.

Genre: angst, fluff, pining?? unrequited love for a hot sec? EXTRA cheesy 

Summary: Being in love isn’t supposed to hurt so much, but you’d sooner roll over dead than confess to him. Your best friend. After a particularly rough break up, you decide to send Taehyung some additional love via love letters. What you weren’t expecting, however, was a letter back.

A/N: Not entirely proof read, so please excuse any inconsistencies lol

─────── ☽. ✧₊∘ ───────

“I just don’t know,” Taehyung sighs as he grabs his shoes from the company’s designated drawers. His name that’s scribbled onto a label is faded and worn, but he pays no mind as he slips his sneakers on. Frustration eats away at him, silently beckoning him closer. “How did I not see it coming? I’m so stupid like how could I not have seen--”

“--I don’t think anyone would’ve seen it coming.” Your voice lays low, uncertainty and concern bubbling up. “And I know what you’re thinking: No, this isn’t your fault. She cheated on you, and you’re doing the right thing, okay?” 

Taehyung doesn’t look at you like you so desperately wished he would, but what else could you do? What else could you say? “...You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, your best friend who knows that you deserve better. Besides,” you smile,” there’s plenty of other fish in the sea.” and oh how you wish you were a fish.

That night, your mind wandered to Taehyung’s predicament. He’s been your best friend for years and years on end, but along the lines somewhere, you’ve started to feel a little bit more than “just a friend.” It’s an ongoing pain, and you’ve known that for a while now. A breathy sigh escapes your lips as you glance down at your notebook. Minutes go by of you staring at nonsensical scribbles of lyrics and poems, ones you’ve written throughout the day. That’s it. 

The next day you get to the recording studio a bit early, early enough that there’s no one else in sight and no one to see you with a crisp white envelope. Your footsteps echo throughout the empty hallway, and with each passing second, you become uneasier and uneasier. Is this a bad idea? Is it too much? What if he finds out? Will he find out?

You’ve been standing in front of his drawer for the past five minutes contemplating. It stares back at you the same way it did last night, piercing through your soul and convincing you to step closer. If anything, you’re doing this to be a good friend, right? Before you can mull over it any longer, you hear chatter at the end of the hall. You can’t even convince yourself that it’s a horrible idea anymore when you slip the note in and hurry off inside the studio. Minutes later, Namjoon walks in with Jungkook.

“Oh!” Namjoon breaks out into a small smile,” You startled me, y/n. What are you doing here so early?”

The question catches you off guard and has you scrambling for an excuse. “I uh… I couldn’t sleep? I have a lot on my mind, I guess.” You shrug and spin around in an office chair. You didn’t like the fact that you just lied to Namjoon, but it wasn’t necessarily a lie. It just… wasn’t the whole truth. “I got us coffee?”

Jungkook and Namjoon don’t catch on to your jittery attitude, too excited by the fact that you bought them drinks. They mumble out their thank-yous and go off on their way. They’ve been working on Jungkook’s new single, so it’s not that big of a surprise that they’re also here early. It’s the fact that usually you’re never here early, and it irks you every time they look your way.

A heavy pair of footsteps trudge through the hallway, and your breath catches in your throat. This is it, the moment of truth. You hurriedly get up to greet taehyung outside. For a moment you catch yourself; you’re like an overly excited puppy greeting their owner, it isn’t too obvious, right? Nevertheless, Taehyung didn’t seem to mind too much when you said hello. He slips his shoes off and opens the drawer.

He sees the letter.

You watch as his eyebrow quirks up a little and how he gingerly picks it up out of his box. “I didn’t know we get mail in our cubbies now.” He jokes halfheartedly. When he looks at you, you shrug and look as shocked as he is.

“Does it say who it’s from?” You ask aloud. Your heart pounds so loud in your ribcage you wonder if he can hear it too.

Taehyung turns the envelope over to examine the front and back. It’s a simple white envelope with a red heart sticker sealing it shut. “...It doesn’t. Huh,” he ponders,” that’s weird.”

You wander back to your desk, but you can see him holding the letter in his hands out of the corner of your eyes. He follows you, and to be quite honest, you feel like you're going to shit your pants. You’ve never done this before, and rightfully so, but you really wish he wouldn’t try to read it in front of you. He opens it carefully, his fingers slipping between the lid of the envelope and pulling out the letter you wrote. You swallow thickly,”....what does it say?”

He’s silent for a while, eyebrows furrowed and focused on the tiny piece of paper in front of him. His deep voice reads,

“Dear Taehyung,

   I hope this letter finds you well. I’m scared, terrified even, as I write this. I heard that you were going through a rough time, and I thought to myself: it’s now or never, you know? I want you to know that I’m cheering for you! 

  You may not realize it now, but I promise you, good things are waiting for you. It’s not going to be easy, I know from personal experience that love hurts, but it’ll be okay :) I really like you, Kim Taehyung, so please cheer up! Your smile is really cute!! (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Love,

        :) “

As per the singular acting class you took, you widen your eyes and pretend to be shocked. You gasp,” Taehyung, I think that’s a love letter?”

“...yeah?” He nods. Suddenly his throat is very dry, despite being very hydrated seconds ago. A smile crept up onto his lips as he gazes at the handwritten note. “Yeah, I think it is.”

The next couple of times were just small sticky notes all signed with a smiley face; encouraging words to give him some extra love. And it works. He’s happier when he reads them, and you’re happy when you write them. 

The next time you give him a major note is on a whim. Written at 3 in the morning, where loneliness is felt and feelings are emptied out onto a page. You don’t even remember sealing it or sneaking out to slip it into his drawer for him to find. Eventually, the morning sun shines in your eyes, and your alarm is too loud for your liking. Grogginess envelopes you and pushes you out of bed, yelling at you to start your day, but five more minutes couldn’t hurt...

Taehyung’s contact buzzes on your phone, making your device shine brighter than it needs to be at this hour. You squint at the harsh light and unlock it.

Tae: ajsdjsjfdsljds

Tae: there’s another one

You: another what

Tae: Letter!!!!

You immediately sit upright in your bed. Wait, you actually went out last night? You look around frantically, trying to somehow prove to yourself that you didn’t. The jacket laying in the corner of your room taunts you: you did it again.

Hastily, you scramble out of bed. You’re wide awake now, eyes wide and crusty. You rack your brain for an appropriate response because leaving your best friend on read might be a little suspicious.

You: omggg

You: what does it say this time :0

You’re a little nauseous waiting for his response, but you throw on clothes and hope that you didn’t reveal too much about yourself.

Tae: “i miss you. i wish you’d look at me the same way i see you. Like my favorite color, or my favorite sweater, it’s always been you. You’re my favorite, but am i yours?”

Tae: they say other stuff too but that one hit deep yknow

It’s hitting you like an 18-wheeler, and everything you wrote comes back to you in waves. ugh, emo hours are meant to stay in 3 am, not shared with your crush via secret love letter.

You: woah that does hit different

You walk into the studio that day a little bit more paranoid than usual. Taehyung greets you, already starting his day with a smile stuck to his face. It’s softer today, one that comes with a huge sigh and big brain thoughts. You already know he’s going to ask you a question; which kind however is what you dreaded.

“Hey,” he starts off slow and unsure. A beat goes by, and he continues,” is it stupid to fall for my secret admirer?” The question comes out, loud and clear. You feel the wind is knocked out of your stomach, or is it your gut? You stare at Taehyung in shock; he’s in love with you? Well, obviously, he doesn’t know it’s you, but still--

You choke on the water you’re sipping and turn to face him. “You’re in love with.... the writer?” You’re trying really hard not to tremble in surprise, and he buys it.

“Yeah, I just wish I knew who they were..”

“--Woah, hold on,” you’ve officially thrown yourself into the deep end. “What if it’s someone you know? You could be crossing some sort of line here buddy.” You didn’t anticipate Taehyung falling for your love letters, so for him to now start reciprocating was a bit much. You had gotten comfy in the unrequited love section, and to ruin your friendship like this was going to be one hell of a rollercoaster. 

“Ugh,” he grumbles. He drapes himself on an adjacent office chair and twirls around dramatically. “You’re right, but maybe things will change? All I know is that this person is writing me enough love letters to actually be my lover.

“and not to mention the fact that I love handwritten notes? Like come on, y/n,” He gives you a lopsided grin that makes you fall for him a little too much. “You know I’m a sucker for this crap. Whoever this is should just marry me right now. I’m ready to be an old fashioned, romantic poet writing, sonnet sweetheart for you darling!” He calls out to the open air.

You chuckle at this, a prime example of why you love Taehyung. His hair falls a little on the sides of his face as his shoulders shake in laughter. Your face is starting to feel warm, but you pay no attention to it. “Oh yeah, that’s totally gonna get them to reveal themselves.”

The next time you go to deliver him a letter, you find that there is already a sealed envelope in his drawer. Carefully, you pick up the letter with a wax seal holding it closed. To my Lover, it reads on the top left corner in Taehyung’s handwriting. A short barely-there laugh breathes out of your nose, and a smile finds its way to you. Of course he’d do something like this; something so out of the blue and unnecessary, yet so thoughtful and sweet.

You slip in your letter in exchange for his, and gingerly put it in your backpack to read later in the confines of your home. 

[ ---I can’t sleep because I lie awake and think about you, did you know that? You could be anyone: my boss, the intern, the librarian, or even my best friend, and I’d still have no clue. Is our relationship really so fragile that we can’t meet in person? Or maybe, we always do? 

Have you listened to my friend’s new single? It’s called “Still with You.” Please think of me when you hear it. “When will it be when I get to see you face to face? I’ll look you in the eye and say I missed you.”--- ] 

It’s a small excerpt compared to the rest of the letter he’s written for you, but you can feel your heart beat faster in your chest. You find that your hands have already started writing a response. 

A month goes by since you’ve started exchanging letters with Taehyung in secret, but today shit hits the fan. “y/n?”

You’re in your kitchen fixing up some snacks for movie night when Taehyung calls out to you. “yeah?” you respond.

“Why do you have this?” He comes around the corner, holding up a letter that was once sealed with a wax stamp. You freeze. 

“--Why the fuck do you have all of my letters?” At this point he’s face to face with you, a pain etched into the soft features that silently cry out. You’re silent, the pop tarts in the toaster long forgotten.

Your eyes paint him like a movie; a film that you’d never get to see again. Everything is blurry except for the old letter and tears that fall to the ground. Love hurts, but never this much before. You clutch your chest— lungs aching for the sweet relief of fresh air. “Taehyung, I didn’t... It’s not—“

“Is this some kind of sick, twisted joke to you?” His voice reverberates in the kitchen. Dark, deep, bitter, like the coffee you used to drink. “I don’t need you to play pretend anymore; you can drop the act. I don’t want empty love letters filled with shit if it’s all fake anyways.”

Those words cling to you and rip through old scars. He’s leaving you with open wounds, bleeding out painfully slow. It’s not shit, it’s your feelings. You poured your heart into that! If any song could play right now, it’d be,” All I Ask by Adele.”

“...what?” He stops in the doorway, having heard a faint whisper fall from your lips. Had it been a nasty remark, he was ready to spit one back at you. But it wasn’t. He didn’t catch what you said, but he knows it wasn’t an insult.

You couldn’t have with the way you’re clutching the empty pop tart wrapper for dear life, looking so empty and lost and alone on the tile floor. An empty shell: nothing more than a vessel staring at him, soaking in his every detail as if it’s the last time you two will meet. Hurt and betrayal replays in his head, so no matter how much he wants to stay, Taehyung steps out the door.

You couldn’t bring yourself to write letters for a while. You wished so desperately to tell him that the letters were genuine: you loved him. You still do. There are so many things you want to say, but none of the poems or essays you’ve written were strung together correctly. They just didn’t convey your feelings the way you want them to: the pain, the regret, the love, it wasn’t good enough.

After many sleepless nights and a few phone call confessions with Namjoon, your last letter was written. The cute stationary you’d use reminded you of every other letter, but this will be the last one. Promise.

[—“if this is my last night with you, hold me like I’m more than just a friend... because what if I never love again?”—]

[—All I Ask by Adele played in my head when you left, like a soundtrack in a movie. Everything I’ve written to you is true; please forgive me for falling in love with my best friend.—]

That night it rained. How fitting, you think to yourself. The weight from the grocery bags pile softly to the floor, the annoying crinkle rustling from the plastic. You peel the wet jacket off of your shoulders, hanging them up to dry while you put away the food. Thunder rolls in from the distance, pellets of rain tapping on your window. You don’t bother with music or tv, the silence thick and heavy as you busy yourself in the kitchen.

A knock sweeps you out of the dull lullaby of chores and rain. You move to open your door, and the next thing you know, a pair of arms embrace your still figure. All at once the sweet scent of cologne and honey clouds your senses, a familiar sedation too powerful alone. He holds you closer to his body. The physical touch makes you crave more, leaning in to relish in as much of it as you can.

He releases his hold a little, much to your dismay, and your eyes catch his restless ones. They flutter shut, and Taehyung’s forehead touches yours. His hot breath tickles your lips, shaky but inviting all the while. “...I missed you, so much.”

Is this what it feels like to be held like a lover? Embraced so tenderly and gently, fingertips tracing along your jawline. He pours his love onto you like the rain outside, and the kiss he gives sparks like a strike of lightning.

You wonder how you could’ve been content with unrequited love when this was on the other end? Seeking mutual forgiveness, making up for guilt with praises and promises? You know from personal experience that love hurts, but now, you’re ready to learn how love heals.

─────── ☽. ✧₊∘ ───────

A/N: This originally was supposed to have a sad ending but I couldn’t bring myself to...... I had to be cliché, it’s my drug 😔mayhaps I’ll make an angst fic someday,,

[husbandograveyard]

Henlo all! This is my extremely-close-to-the-deadline-submission for @some-piece​’s AU event. I got these 5 characters to chose from: Rebecca - Hachi - Hawkins - Zoro - Paulie. And after contemplating for a long while I decided to put Zoro in an animal shelter AU which automatically became modern AU setting as well as slight!college AU but the main focus will be on the shelter.

2nd person. Genderneutral reader. slight mentions of animal abuse, nothing too bad. 99% fluff!

“Can I help you?” 

A young man about your age had walked into the shelter where you worked. He had opened the door quite harshly, making the bell at the top ring, and making you put down the cat you had been brushing for a bit and put it back in its cage. You walked up to the little desk area at the front, where he was standing with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face that only seemed to relax a bit when he heard you speak up. 

“Yeah I sent an e-mail, I needed to be here for the volunteer program?” 

You thought for a second, suddenly remembering that you had posted an ad at local universities and colleges to come volunteer at the shelter. Most of those students didn’t have the time to come volunteer, but you had gotten a handful of mails. Most of the students never showed up and the only one that had made an appointment for today had made the appointment for two hours earlier so you had just assumed it was going to be another no-show. 

“Oh… you’re…” “-Late I know, I got lost.” You furrowed your brow wondering how someone could get lost for two hours coming from a campus that was only a fifteen minute walk away, but didn’t pry any further, just happy to have some possible assistance.

“Okay! Well, I’ll go get the stuff in order then, you can wait out here for a bit.”

After you got the papers he handed you some form from the school as well and explained that he had to fill in a couple of hours a week with other things than his sports curriculum to get his degree to be complete, and he had jokingly added ‘how hard can it possibly be to look after a bunch of critters’. The statement in itself did not seem to be meant to discredit your work or the animals, but you already saw that he was vastly underestimating just how much effort went into your work. So as soon as all the papers were signed and in order, you could prove him wrong. 

“You’re in luck, all the cleaning is already done. It’s feeding time now, and I was doing a round of brushing today, so maybe you could help with that and if we still have time left we can take some dogs out for a walk.” 

The grin on his face was confident, and you were taking a little pleasure in knowing it would be wiped off his face in an instant. Your main focus was to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally harm the animals, and to make sure they were properly taken care of. But if it meant this overconfident jock got his ass handed to him, you’d take it. 

The day had proceeded as you had expected. Zoro, as he had introduced himself once you got over the formalities, had not been really good with the animals. He was strong, and a hard worker you had to give him that. But the animals… seemed to not really like him, even if he did do his best? Cats hissed, dogs barked, the one abandoned parrot you were temporarily housing had pecked him so hard his finger started bleeding. Luckily for you, he didn’t physically lash out at the animals, but you had heard a whole new array of curse words and insults that you previously didn’t even know existed. 

You had spent most of the day explaining all the things to him and helping him out whenever he was really struggling but most of the time you had actually been occupied with trying not to laugh too hard at his failing ministrations. 

“You have to be kind, try not to come across as so intimidating. You’re a big bad man that they are scared off, and they’re all just trying to defend themselves,”  you said as you petted a big fluffball of a cat while Zoro put fresh water and new food in its cage. The cat was now happily purring and nudging your hand with his head while a few minutes ago it had been aggressively hissing at your volunteer. 

Zoro just angrily grumbled in response, finishing up his task so you could put the cat back. You eyed the clock, noticing it was already time for him to leave for the day. “I’ll release you from your suffering then. See you next week?” “Wait but you still have all these cages to do?” “I’m used to doing this all by myself, no worries” He frowned, and he seemed to be deep in thought for a second. “I’ll stay until it is done.” You raised one brow: “are you sure? These hours won’t count towards your total and it is getting quite late.”

He only shrugged in response: “My roommate is gone and I don’t have much better to do. I am volunteering time anyway, what is one extra hour going to do?” 

You smiled widely. “Let’s get to it then!” 

Even though the animals didn’t seem to like him very much, you couldn’t help but admire this green-haired man and his incredible work ethic. He showed up late often, because even after a few weeks he still managed to get lost regularly. You had just started to say that he needed to be there an hour earlier than he actually had to be there, so with his geographical skills he’d be there on time or even a little early. 

Most of the animals still were not that much of a fan of him, but you’d worked out a nice system that ensured fast and efficient work, and as little scratches and bites as possible. You got work done faster, had more time for social media and such, and thus animals got adopted out faster. It was a win-win, and you noticed yourself always looking forward to the days he’d come to help. 

Zoro wasn’t really talkative, but would listen to your endless ramblings as you talked about the shelter, all the animals, but eventually also things about your life, your family, your home… he was an excellent listener, and his very blunt character made that he usually came up with very honest opinions and helpful solutions, even when he didn’t necessarily intend them like that. And sometimes, when you stumbled over your words cause you were too focused, or said something that didn’t make sense he would laugh. It was a deep and loud laugh, making his whole upper body shake, and lately whenever he laughed, it made your heart flutter a little. Another reason to look forward to his help, which had already exceeded the number of hours he had to do for his extra credit. 

But the semester was coming to an end and you very well knew that even though he seemed to be enjoying his time way more than he initially did, that he would not do extra time. He had his sport’s practices to focus on and his group of friends that frequently went on weekend trips and such, and he had been missing out on a lot of that because of the volunteering he did. You felt a little sad, but had made peace with it. Still, a little voice in the back of your head was nagging more and more often to ask him to meet outside of the shelter. But you didn’t want to seem weird or creepy. Besides. He was obviously a popular college student, finishing up his degree, with a big group of friends that obviously adored him, and model-grade gorgeous. You were just a high school dropout that managed to get a job in a local shelter of which the owner died only a little after you got settled. You were struggling to make ends meet, had little social life besides the animals. You kept telling yourself that the only reason you were feeling so strange whenever Zoro came out to help, was because he was the only one who had made you feel like your life and stories mattered even a little. But you could get used to being all alone in here again with the occasional customer or 1-day volunteer. It was what you were used to. You had already taken far too much advantage of this gorgeous man’s free time.

And then the last day of the semester came. You were finishing up the chores of the day with a heavy heart. You would have to say goodbye, and you would have to keep it professional, since you never worked up the courage to really deepen the connection the two of you had besides working together. Zoro seemed a little uneasy as well, but neither of you was going to bring up the tense atmosphere. Tense was still better than awkward so you rolled with it. 

“Well then”, you started as you put your broom away, “you’ve been an amazing help this semester.” You walked over to the front desk and handed him all the papers he’d need to get his credit in order. 

“You more than deserved these, too bad I can’t give you a grade.” He chuckled in response. “I wish I could say I would miss it a lot, but I think my arms are better off scratch-free” You laughed a little as well, but felt yourself dying on the inside. Of course he wouldn’t miss this place. Or you. 

He put the papers away in his bag, and you were staring at the desk, desperately making up sentences in your mind, of which you could utter maybe one, just one, to say what you were feeling and what you really wanted. But anything you came up with seemed so lame, so stupid, so hopeless, so desperate, and even though you felt like all of these things, that was not how you wanted to portray yourself in front of him for all people. 

He softly touched your arm, his hand warm, and you jumped at the sudden contact. He stepped back in surprise at your reaction. “Sorry”, he mumbled, “I just wanted to say that I didn’t mind my time here. You really helped me out well”. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, clearly not too used to being soft in someone’s presence, and he smiled an adorable smile as he said those words, a mix of embarrassment and sincerity on his face. You felt like melting, and had to suppress the urge to just wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. With those broad shoulders and strong arms, you were quite sure that the hug he’d give back would be heavenly. But you didn’t, because again, that would be so strange with no indications beforehand that that was what you wanted. 

You nodded, a soft smile on your face as well. “You’re welcome. If you ever have some spare time and get bored, you know the way… or well, you don’t but you’ll find it.” He frowned a little at your remark, but the glint in his eyes betrayed that he found it quite amusing too. He picked up his bag, and opened the door. “Bye then?” “Goodbye Zoro”

A box of kittens. You had nearly tripped over them when you left the shelter to go home for the day. The box was in front of the door and weak, tiny mewls already betrayed its content as you did your utmost best to regain your balance. You kneeled down next to it, carefully opened up the top. Four little kittens, way too young to be away from the mother yet. Already emotional from the happenings of the day you felt tears well up in your eyes. You picked up the box and placed it inside, immediately grabbing whatever supplies you could find to keep the kittens warm, furiously wiping at your eyes in order to clear the tears before they could stream down your cheeks. Things like this could make you so furious. And oh, if only Zoro was still here to calm you down and help out a little. 

You had to take a few deep breaths and gather your thoughts. You had to get out, running for some kitten milk. These babies needed their nutrients and you’d probably spend the night in the shelter making sure they were fed whenever they needed it, keeping an eye on them. So you’d have to go get an overnight bag. But that would mean you would be away from them for a considerable time. You decided that the food was the most important part and literally sprinted to the most nearby pet store, mentally reminding yourself to book an appointment at the vet asap when you were back. 

Sunken deep in thoughts, you weren’t seeing where you were walking, running straight into someone, stumbling and falling on your back in the process. Great. That was what you needed. Some public humiliation while you were already at the verge of a little breakdown. You started to mumble a string of incoherent apologies when you looked up at a surprisingly familiar figure. “y/n?” “Zoro? What are you doing here?” “The apartment I live in is right here. What are you doing here?” He pointed upward at an apartment building and offered you his hand to get up. You grabbed it, and for a split second you wondered how he could possibly take up to two hours to get to the shelter from his apartment that was even closer to the shelter than his college campus was. But then you were back on your feet and you remembered the kittens. Your mind immediately regained some focus again. “Kittens” “What?” “Someone dropped a box of newborn kittens at the door. They will die without supervision, milk and warmth. So I'm getting some food for them and I’ll be staying the night with them to keep an eye on them” You managed to get all things out in one breath, almost turning to start walking again. No matter how much more time you actually wanted to spend in his presence, you knew it was a race against the clock to help the little babies, and those were your top priority right now. 

Zoro’s eyes grew wide. No matter how much he didn’t always connect with some of your furry friends that he had to take care of, he too was filled with rage when he had heard tales of people mishandling them and the reason why some were so scared and defensive when he was too loud or too brisk. You apologized again, explaining that you really had to go, that time was of the essence, and started walking. You were surprised to notice Zoro walking with you. 

“I’ll come with you.”  “What?”  “I’ll come with you. You need food too. And probably some blankets or something for the night right? You need some rest if you are going to take care of everything we usually do and then the new kittens on top of that. I’ll help” 

It was not a question, not even an offer. More a matter-of-a-fact-statement and even though every polite fiber in your being was telling you to follow etiquette and politely tell him that that was absolutely not necessary, you couldn’t push away the overwhelming relief and admiration you felt for this man in that moment and you accepted his help immediately.

You were back at the shelter in a matter of minutes, basic supplies for the kittens in hand, and the vet already on the phone as you followed their instructions on how to take care of them overnight, so you could bring them in for checkup and more detailed advice first thing in the morning. Knowing that Zoro would come and help you out, had done wonders for your mood, your resolve and your nerves. You felt more steady, like you could actually pull this off without neglecting either the kittens or any of the other animals that also needed your attention. 

Zoro had promised to go get some things to make the night at the shelter a little more comfortable and something for you to eat, because he figured you probably were starving at that point. And while you had not eaten yet, the adrenaline made you not feel the hunger. Now that things were calming down and the adrenaline was wearing off, you could feel your stomach grumble and you were mentally thanking your green-haired hero for his considerate streak. He had literally no obligation to help you out in any way. He was no longer officially volunteering. He had nothing to gain. He was probably on his ways to get a couple of beers and blissfully pass out after an evening of fun with his roommates. But he had seen you in distress and decided to help, and it had warmed your heart and given you renewed energy. 

The kittens were left to sleep a little after you had given all the first help that you could under the phone-guidance of the local vet clinic, and now you were nervously waiting on the couch for Zoro to return. You were nervous cause of the kittens, but you also caught yourself being a little nervous about the fact that he’d be keeping you company for the night. Not that you were seeing this as a date of any kind, but just the mere idea gave you the shivers in a nervous kind of way. 

He arrived only a little after you sat down, bag with a big blanket and some drinks in one hand, and another one holding a steaming bag of takeaway food. “I’m sorry it took me so long, I got -” “lost” you chuckled, “no worries, I got the first things taken care off” 

You patted the spot next to you on the couch. “Sit down, thank you for getting food. And thank you for helping out… I… I think I might have had a little breakdown if it wasn’t for your presence” He shrugged off the praise. “I am already used to helping out here, and besides, I kind of liked spending time with you, so a little extra won’t hurt”. 

He said those words so easily, you wanted to smack him for how casual he was about it,  and how bluntly and honestly he expressed his feelings, while you shared the same feelings but didn’t dare utter a single word. You grabbed the food instead and the blanket, sitting down so you could both sit down comfortably, keep an eye on the kittens and eat without too many problems. He got the hint, and made himself more comfortable on the couch as well.

The evening flew by. You had food, checked up on the kittens regularly per the vet’s instructions, and since there were no other chores to do, you could actually have some proper talks with Zoro. He was still not really as talkative, but he answered your questions, told you some more details about his life that he had not mentioned before. You could almost physically feel yourself growing more and more attracted to him, and nearly felt guilty about it. 

Despite all the adrenaline wearing you off and making you tired, you stayed up a remarkably long time, Zoro’s company and the kittens keeping you awake for longer than you had expected to stay up. But now it was nearing 4am and you were feeling your eyelids grow heavy. You were telling Zoro something about why you dropped out of high school, but you kept losing track of your own sentences. You had to think long and hard before repeating the few words you had already said. The playful smirk that was present on his face as you were struggling to find cohesion in your story didn’t help either. He thought it incredibly endearing, and when your eyes finally shut without opening again, and a soft snore could be heard, he very carefully moved you a bit so you would lay more comfortably. He crossed his arms and legs and leaned back in order to get some shuteye as well. 

You woke up to your alarm, that you had set up to go off every few hours, just so you could check up on the kittens and go through all the steps again. Your eyes and whole body felt heavy and it was harder to get up than expected. Not only because you were incredibly tired still, but also because a muscled arm was snugly resting around your midsection. You were sure you had fallen asleep on one end of the couch, but for some reason, you were leaning on Zoro, and he had wrapped an arm around you to secure you and make sure you didn’t slip off the couch. 

Your heart skipped a beat and you got up rather briskly. Of course, the sudden movement made Zoro wake up as well, and he seemed just as embarrassed as you were about the slightly compromising positions you had been napping in. You quickly cleared your throat, muttering ‘kittens’ before standing up, checking up on the babies and going through the motions. Without having to say anything, Zoro got up and started the morning chores already. It was way too early for those, but before you could protest he said that he’d get them started as long as you were working on the kittens, so you both could have a little more rest before your planned vet visit. You gave him a grateful smile. 

When the work was done, you called Zoro back, and you both sat down on the couch again. He seemed incredibly relaxed, almost as if he had forgotten that you were practically cuddling a little while ago, the mere thought of the sensation of his strong arm holding you making your heart race again. You shifted positions seven times in the span of three minutes and you could feel him staring at you, one brow raised in confusion at your almost yoga-like contortions you were trying in order to get comfortable. 

“Are you okay y/n?” 

“Yeah...I...I just… I don’t know how I could ever thank you properly” “Well… I already got my credit. But your head resting on my chest was kind of nice. Maybe a goodnight kiss before we go to sleep again for a little while?” He sounded casual, but he was avoiding eye-contact, regretting the words as they left his mouth. Your eyes grew so big they were about to pop up out of your sockets. “I mean, if you don’t mind if not… I…” Now it was his turn to get flustered, the little bit of smooth talk he had had earlier completely gone as the inner panic set in of maybe misunderstanding your previous actions, glances, words, and ministrations. 

You gathered up all your courage, and gave him a soft peck on the lips, seeing his eyes widen in surprise and the tips of his ears turn red before you rested your head on his broad chest. “You know for that payment, I’m willing to hire you as a full time worker here.” you hummed contently. He let out a few confused grunts, surprised by your bout of confidence, not seeing that you were trying to hide the insane embarrassment on your face. Face red, he managed to utter just one response before you drifted off into sleep again. “I’m gonna need a little more payment than just that. But well, I’ll consider it” 

fin. 

[columbia-canaille]

How To Create A New Identity

Why create a new identity?

Well besides the fact that we’re living in a surveillance state and the implications of a government needing to track its citizens identity in the first place is entirely unethical- a new identity is useful.

We live in an era where our privacy rights are being ignored, corporations and the NSA track peoples information, the justice system is broken, and the state constantly criminalizes innocent people. There are plenty of completely ethical reasons to invent a false identity.

This guide is partially excerpted from the anarchist cookbook 2000***

STEP 1: Find out who you'll become.

The most secure way is to use someone's ID who doesn't use it themselves. The people who fit that bill the best are dead.

Go to the library and look through old death notices. Find someone who was born about the same time as you were (Or of the age you want to become).

You should go back as far as you can for the death because some states now cross index deaths to births so people can't do this in the future. This is the hardest part if you're younger.

Look up all the death notices you can at the library, if it's on microfilm so much the better. You have to find someone who died locally in most instances: the death certificate is filed only in the county of death.

Now you go down to the county courthouse in the county where they died and get the death certificate, this will cost you around $3-$5 depending on the state you're in. Know that this paper could be your way to vanish in a cloud of smoke when the right time comes.

If you're lucky, the identity you find was signed him up with social security. That'll be another piece of ID you can get. It will be listed on the death certificate if they have one.

If the identity was born locally and you can get his birth certificate right away.

STEP 2: Aquire the Birth Certificate

Check the place of birth on the death certificate, if it's in the same place you standing now you're all set. If not, you can mail away for one from that county. It might take a while to get, the librarian at the desk should have a listing of where to write for this and exactly how much it costs.

Get the Birth certificate, its worth the extra money to get it certified because that's the only way some people will accept it for ID. When you're getting this stuff the little forms ask for the reason you want it, write "Genealogy".

If the Death certificate looks good for you, wait a day or so before getting the certified birth certificate in case they recognize someone wanting it for a dead person.

STEP 3: Aquire a Secondary Form of ID

Print out some mailing labels addressed to you at a phony address. Take the time to check your phony address that there is such a place. Hotels that rent by the month or large apartment buildings are good, be sure to get the right zip code for the area. These are things that the cops might notice that will trip you up. Take some old junk mail and paste your new labels on them. Now take them along with the birth certificate down to the library.

Get a new library card. If they ask you if you had one before say that you really aren't sure because your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Most libraries will allow you to use letters as a form of ID when you get your card.

Your card should be waiting for you in about two weeks. Most libraries ask for two forms of ID, one can be your trusty Birth Certificate, and they do allow letters addressed to you as a second form.

STEP 4: Aquire Picture ID

You should have two forms of ID now. Throw away the old letters, or better yet stuff them inside the wallet you intend to use with this identity. Go to the county courthouse and show them what nice ID you got and get a state ID card. Now you have a picture ID. This will take about two weeks and cost about $5.

STEP 5: Aquire a Social Security Number

If the death certificate had a social security number on it, you can just go out and buy one of those metal SS# cards. If you don't yet have an SS#, go down and apply for one. These are free but they could take five or six weeks to get.  

ALL DONE?

Maybe you’re 19 and want to buy liquor (you should be allowed to in a just system). Maybe you’ve been pulled over for something stupid like not wearing your seatbelt, and you want to give the police a false name so that your real name doesn’t get ticketed (There is literally no reason why seatbelt wearing should be law. Literally a revenue scam). Maybe you just want to make a FUCKING FACEBOOK ACOUNT WITHOUT YOUR IDENTITY BEING TRACKED. Maybe you were arrested on a nonsense marijuana charge and you’re not allowed to vote for the next 7 years (completely unjust). Maybe you want to escape your old life and start a new one under a new name in a different state where no one else can find you. Not my business.

Or maybe you’re only curious about how people create false identities in the first place, and have no intention of doing it yourself. I’m not encouraging crime, I’m simply spreading information :)

[fandom-necromancer]

Stray Detective Found Part2

This was prompted by a wonderful anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [part1]

Fowler knew he would develop a headache from just reading the Mail in front of him. It was a letter of introduction how only an android was able to write it. He had known they would be transferred a new android Detective from seventh precinct since Person was on father’s leave, but he had hoped for someone more… cooperative. I am a RK900 unit, the last android to ever be released by Cyberlife. Therefore, I expect my abilities to be valued. I want to remind you that being partnered up with anyone, but the best of your officers would be a waste of my potential. Yours sincerely, RK900.

Fowler leaned back and sighed deeply. Of he hated one thing it would be people being too full of themselves. Well, he’d have some time to make his decision. The new android would only arrive on Monday. That made him turn around and look through the bullpen. He had long ago learned to filter out any arguments, shouts or other disturbances, only stepping in when things got out of control. He wasn’t at all surprised to see Gavin and Hank at each other’s throat again. Connor was already mediating though, so Fowler was sure it would sort itself out. He loved Gavin. The now grown man was his son in every way that mattered. He had watched him graduate school and the police academy, had supervised his first cases and taught him everything he knew. And Gavin had been a fast learner. Was still. Gavin didn’t live with him and his wife anymore, but his apartment wasn’t too far and he came to visit often. Still, all the love he held for his son couldn’t help the fact that he was annoying as hell on the job. Gavin sought confrontation and nearly every conversation with him would lead to endless bickering. He was always up for a challenge and saw one in every interaction. And nothing Fowler had done so far had managed to change that. If anything, it had confirmed him in his ways as he came up on top every time.

Fowler shook his head at the way the man was grinning before triumphantly walking back to his desk. Then he suddenly stopped mid-motion and looked at his screen again. The best of his officers, the android had said. Well… Fowler could do that. And maybe he would even kill two birds with one stone.

-

‘Gavin, this is your new partner. RK900 is the best android ever created, and he requested the best of my men to be partnered up with. That would be you.’ The look of complete terror on Gavin’s face almost made Fowler feel guilty. Almost. ‘You gotta be kidding me!’ ‘That lines up with the statistics’, RK900 stated, turning only then to the man sitting next to him. ‘Detective Reed, it is a pleasure to meet you and I’m looking forward to working with you.’ Gavin glanced at him once, not even considering shaking the hand he had stretched out for him. ‘Jeffrey, this is ridiculous. I don’t need a partner! And certainly not this plastic prick!’ ‘Excuse you?’ Fowler stood up. ‘Gavin, this is not open for debate. This is an order.’ He threw him a glare, but his shoulders slumped. ‘Goddamnit, fine. Stupid decision, but I’ll manage.’ He then looked the android up and down. ‘Hey, tin-can, name’s Reed. I would advise you keep talking to a minimum. I’m not here to make friends. Just solve cases and we’ll get along.’ ‘I might consider it.’

They did not get along. Not at all. But that was all according to plan. Fowler had made them partner up for the single reason of bringing the android down to earth and get a little revenge on Gavin for getting on his nerves so much. He had thought to have another transfer paper or at least a formal complaint to sign by the end of the month. But no, Gavin and RK900 stubbornly tried to get the other to cave in first, both taking far too much pride in their decision to “out-live” the other. They worked together for a month, for two months, three… Fowler already thought he had created a far greater nuisance in his precinct than any of the two alone could have been. But at least they were so preoccupied with each other that they left the rest of their co-workers alone. Not the effect he had been going for, but a win after all, he mused.

-

Until Gavin’s birthday came up and they met at his apartment. The awkward moment when Jeffrey and his wife faced Gavin sitting at the table next to RK900 completely casually was something else. ‘Hey, Gav, what’s RK doing here?’, he asked discretely following Gavin to help carry the cake over to the living room. ‘I invited him, dad.’ ‘Does he know…’ ‘Yes, he knows. I told him a month ago.’ Fowler thought about it, walking after Gavin to the living room. ‘Wow, I thought you two hated each other.’ ‘No, we just like to argue’, RK900 answered, probably having heard every word. ‘I’m sorry, RK900, that’s just what it looked like.’ ‘Please, it’s Nines’, the android said. ‘This is family after all.’ ‘Family?’, Fowler asked. ‘You didn’t tell them yet?’ ‘I wanted to tell them now’, Gavin hissed, then nervously smiled at his parents.

‘Err… Yeah, uhm… Nines and I we are kinda… engaged?’, he stammered.

Fowler would have dropped the cake had he not put it down on the table already. ‘Engaged?’ ‘Yeah, dad, he proposed, got a ring and everything. We just weren’t sure jet if we want to marry just yet. Maybe wait for a bit and then make the decision, you know?’ Fowler just stared at Gavin, shaking his head then. ‘Holy shit.’ ‘What?’, Gavin asked suspicious. ‘What’s wrong with that?’ ‘Nothing!’, Jeffrey answered quickly, knowing how it might have sounded like. ‘Hell, son, if you think you successfully hid being gay from me, you really have to work on your deceptive skills. No, I just… I made you two partner up as some kind of punishment. Gavin, you were throwing tantrums left and right and RK- Nines, it just needed one E-Mail from you to let me hate you! I thought partnering you two up would be the perfect solution to solve both problems.’

Android and human stared at him completely speechless. Gavin was the first to recover. ‘What the hell dad, I thought I couldn’t inherit stuff from you, but damn that’s like my level of assholeness!’ ‘I know. And I’m not proud of it.’ ‘Well…’, Nines contemplated. ‘I guess it got us together, so you got your backlash…’ ‘Yeah…’ He cleared his throat and sat up.

‘So you want to marry my son?’ Nines swallowed. ‘Yes. I have every intent to.’ ‘Then tell me, how do you plan to care for him?’ ‘Dad!’, Gavin whined embarrassed. ‘What kind of mediaeval bullshit is this?’ But Fowler just shushed him. ‘Gavin might look like a tough guy that nothing can get off his path. But I know my son. He is sensitive and needs someone he can trust and rely on. Can you be that man?’ By now Gavin had already covered his face with his hands, sighing. ‘I think I already proved that.’ ‘Maybe, but not to me. Can you promise to look out for him and stay by his side until you can’t do that anymore?’ Nines leaned further on the table and looked Fowler in the eyes. ‘I promise to do everything I can to make your son happy. Because that is what he does for me already and the least I can do is return it.’ They continued to stare at each other and Gavin looked from one to the other, until his eyes fell on his mother pleading for help. Suddenly, Jeffrey nodded then and leaned back, causing Nines to do the same. Still silence hung over the table.

Until Mrs. Fowler spoke up: ‘Alright, after this extremely inappropriate shovel-talk, who wants some cake?’

[solitaria-fantasma]

Um for the Super Ghost AU I am just imagining that The Question managed to figure out basically everything about Gawain and the Mystery Skulls, but instead of it being his paranoia getting to him it's because he accidentally learned Gawain was a ghost, wanted to learn why he's a ghost and then he was going down the rabbit hole and by the time he climbed out of it he's just wondering what is Gawain's life, unlife, whatever and the life of his brother. Just, this came to me and refused to leave.

((*cracks knuckles*))

Question hadn't seen sunlight for nearly six days, and it had finally paid off.

He leaned over his hands on the edge of the desk, staring at the pin board before him. It was crisscrossed with color coded strands of yarn, and little push pins that held up photographs, newspaper and magazine clippings, and printed Internet screenshots. It wasn't the most complicated web he'd ever built, but it tied up neatly, and that was enough. Not every mystery had a a million twists to unwind.

The trail started in London, England, and stretched all the way across the Atlantic to a tiny town in Texas, USA, barely large enough to be a speck on a map. He had birth records, school enrollment records, science fair awards, promotions, Visa applications, mortgages, home appliance purchases, swing dance trophies, company picnic photos, a missing person's report, and an obituary, all leading to a giant question mark scribbled over a photo of a young blond man, with the word 'whereabouts?' written beneath it.

This photo connected to the next item in the chain with a quick arrow of blue, and another long, arching arrow connected a birth record from earlier in this leg to the same thing - a newspaper article from that small Texas town, talking about the mysterious case of a young boy with amnesia being found on the steps of a local restaurant. There was an article about the boy's adoption just a few months later, and then another article congratulating three local kids and their dog for solving a small time mystery.

The chain ran through several articles like this one, and the kids grew older as their mysteries evolved from misplaced mail and lost pets to package theft, poltergeist activity, and cryptid sightings. More and more, the articles talked about ghosts, creatures of urban legend, and even sightings of demons and occult activity. Around 2008, the newspaper articles became printed blog posts, and seemed to be written by the kids themselves.

Question laughed quietly to himself. Kids after his own paranoid heart, all three.

The articles came to an abrupt halt in 2014, with a missing persons report for the amnesiac boy (now an adult), and a series of articles about a groundbreaking prosthetic limb, developed by a genius young man who tested his prototype on himself after tragically loosing his own arm. There were a few more articles about the prosthetic, and a few photos to go along with them that showed the blond man from previous articles, and then there were a few clippings of local tabloids from a truck driver who swore he'd been carjacked by 'a flaming skeleton with great fashion sense'.

There was silence for a month or two, and then concurrent newspaper articles and blog posts about the miraculous return of one Lewis Pepper, thought to be dead from the same tragic caving accident that cost his best friend his arm. The blog posts about the supernatural returned, and the prosthesis research seemed to slow down. Coincidentally, a young man named 'Merlin Knight' with an eerily familiar face was hired at the local auto shop.

Question wondered if the entire town was playing dumb, or just stupid. The only real change was the clothing, and that long blond hair being braided.

This employment record connected all the way back to the obituary from the first leg of the chain, and proceeded on to connect with screenshots from a social media account of a robotic body, and the building of what would be, within a few month's time, the town's own local hero.

Question breathed out through his nose. A local hero who would go on to help save the world, and found the Justice League itself. Had that been part of the plan?

The web wrapped itself up quickly from there. Supernatural skills and abilities not possible by modern science, knowledge of other realms and creatures only known to mythology, and the tiny little clues he'd been hoarding and observing for a full year all pointed to the same conclusion. It wasn't as fantastical as it sounded, in all honesty, though Green Arrow had looked at him stranger than usual when he'd first said his conclusion out loud.

There were legitimate aliens, sorcerers, and demons in this reality - why not ghosts, too?

There was one final piece missing from the web, however, and he was out of clues to tie in. There was a near twenty year gap between the last known sighting of Gawain Kingsmen, and the appearance of 'Merlin Knight'. What had the man been doing for all that time? There had been no sightings of anyone even remotely matching the appearance of Gawain or 'Merlin' anywhere in that time, and without even the slightest whisper of a rumor on an Internet forum or library archive, there wasn't much more he could do to find out.

Question straightened up from the desk, and rolled his shoulders to try and stretch them out. There was no way around it.

He was going to have to get more...direct from here on out.

.......

"What does a dead man do for twenty years?" Gawain froze with a potato wedge half-raised to his shoulder at the question, and Bran - unwilling to wait for her snack - leaned her head down to snatch it up anyway. Gawain turned his yellow LED eyes over to Question, who had planted himself in the chair across the table without so much of a 'hello', and tilted his head.

"...I'm sorry," He apologized. "But I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I know you do." Question leaned one elbow on the table. Bran nudged Gawain's still-raised hand, hoping for more potatoes, and the hero absently picked up another wedge to feed to her. "I know most people believe the 'advanced AI' cover story, but I'm not most people. I know you're a ghost possessing an armored suit like that old anime." The potato wedge vanished, and Question wondered if the little ghost was actually eating it, or just storing it for later.

That was a mystery for another time, regardless.

Gawain had turned to face him fully, now, and his two other ghostly companions were now peeking out of hiding from behind his shoulders. They weren't hostile, but their stares were, nonetheless, intense, and Question smiled behind his mask. He knew he had their full attention, now.

"How did you find out?" Gawain asked, keeping his voice low.

"I saw you from the ground in that fight with Mr. Sorcerer Superior, Magnus Creed." Question replied. "You ran into that warding slip like a bird into a clean window. A robot wouldn't have been stopped by mere paper and superstition." Gawain tilted his head slightly to one side.

"Some superstitions hurt." He argued, just the slightest bit defensive. "...what was your question, again?"

"What does a dead man do for twenty years?" Question asked. "There's a two decade gap between your presumed death and your reappearance. You could stand to work on that secret identity, by the way." He advised. "Someone's going to notice your resemblance to a dead guy from twenty years ago, if you ever let down your hair." Gawain's LED eyes narrowed, and one of the spirits - Chopper, the one with the upright spines - hissed in response.

Vixen walked by with John Stewart at her side, and both Chopper and Gawain made a visible effort to drop any outward signs of irritation. Question remained where he was. People were used to seeing him tense and suspicious, by now. It wouldn't raise a single eyebrow.

"...I was lost." Gawain spoke up quietly once Vixen and John had passed out of earshot. "I woke up in the middle of an unfamiliar forest, and I just couldn't get out. Not for a while."

"You were lost in a forest for twenty years?" Even Question sounded skeptical. "I've seen what you're capable of. You should have been able to handle a little thing like being lost."

"It was ten years," Gawain retorted sharply. Bran raided his plate for the remaining potato wedges. "And I wasn't just...born being able to do that stuff. I had to grow into it. I had to learn." A strange gust of air blew past the table, scattering someone's forgotten paper plate and napkin to the floor, before Gawain unclenched his fists, and visibly calmed down. Question still didn't move.

"Death...does things to you." Gawain lowered his voice again. "To your mind. You can't think straight for...a long time - and that's if you're lucky." He lowered his hands to the table, and Bran automatically wound herself around one arm with a pleased sound. "I found my way out of the forest after ten yes, and then I went...home. To Tempo."

"Your parents had moved away by then." Question knew. He knew how the story of the living family had played out, from there. "Your brother was living with your uncle, and your friends were off at college." Gawain's shoulders drooped, and the third spirit - Griflet, if he remembered right - patted at the side of his helmet sympathetically. Chopper was still glaring at him.

"They had." Gawain made no effort to hide the disappointment in his voice. "I guess I couldn't fault them for not wanting to stay in town after all they went through, but back then, I didn't know it had been ten years. It only felt like a few days, to me."

"That must have been difficult." Question said, and he meant it. Sympathy wasn't really his thing, but Gawain was being cooperative, so it was the least he could do. "And the other ten?"

"I was hiding." Gawain laughed humorlessly. "I somehow convinced myself that my family-...that my brother, and my uncle, would be afraid of me, if they saw me like that, and I just...never came forward." He shrugged. "I just sort of watched, and listened, and followed them for another ten years, and I thought that was pretty good, you know?

"I couldn't interact with them, sure, but at least I could still see them. It was...better than nothing." The hero fell silent, for a few moments, and then looked Question in the eye. Or...as close as he could get. The featureless mask tended to throw off people's frame of reference for facial features. "What are you going to do now?"

"Absolutely nothing." Question casually leaned back in his own chair. "I've already put the pieces together. This was just the last piece I needed to finish the story." He stood up, and pushed the chair in under the table. "This time, I just wanted to satisfy my own curiosity." Gawain seemed surprised, and remained sitting as Question walked out of the cafeteria.

He could feel four pairs of eyes burning into his back, but for once, being watched didn't bother him. Curiosity killed the cat, they said, but satisfaction brought it back, and Question was very much satisfied with this answer.

Now, he could focus on more important matters...like the long-ignored connection between Girl Scout cookie sales and the appearance of crop circles in Midwest America.