#but I want to get chapter 6 at least halfway cooked before I post either of them. just in case I want to change anything

[okavara]

The kelryptid following grows..

It sure does >:D I'm so very very happy... I went from 0-2 notes a post to this. Literally it made me explode and I still explode every day I wake up and see kelryptid fanart. I feel like I live in the good timeline despite everything

I wish I could express how happy I am through text but alas :D I will keep drawing him for the people though

[padfootagain]

A Very Rose Mistake (VI)

Part 6: How You Almost Did

 Here I come with a new chapter for this series!!! I'm sorry the posting schedule is a little bit more hectic than usual, but depression is kicking my arse pretty badly, and it's harder to write then. BUT here is a new chapter!! Things are… evolving. A lot of this chapter is the flashback, because it's an important scene.

I hope you like this chapter, and don't forget to leave a little comment if you read, cause that really helps motivating me into writing, and I need that extra piece of motivation now more than ever, sadly.

No warnings here, it's pretty fluffy :)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count : 4283

I.

Holmes Chapel, 2010

 "So… do you have everything?"

"Yeah, it's all ready."

"Did you take your inhaler? I won't be here to save your distracted arse this time."

"I do have it. Thanks, Lambkin."

"Fuck you, Chuckaboo."

"Oi!"

You laughed as you helped Harry carry his suitcase down the stairs. He was leaving to take a chance at X-factor. It was already crazy that he got through the first round of auditions, but now he had to travel across the country to start the first steps of the show.

Whenever the two of you talked about it though, he insisted that he would be back in the blink of an eye. He hadn't even expected to successfully get two 'yes' from the jury during the auditions, and now his purpose was to learn as much as he could from the experience, and enjoy it while it would last. It was a crazy adventure, but one he was certain would simply end in a flicker. He had asked you to get all the lessons for him that he would miss, so he wouldn't struggle too much when he would come back in a couple of weeks.

And to be honest, you thought the same about the whole thing as he did. It wasn't that you didn't believe in him enough, because you did. If there was one person that you trusted and believed in on this Earth, it was Harry. And you had heard him sing before, you knew he had talent, even if it was a little raw for now. You did not doubt though that he was full of potential, and with some hard work, could definitely stand a chance. But he was also a sixteen-year-old boy, from this little English town you called home where nothing happened, and he was your best friend. You had known each other since you were five. It was almost impossible for you to imagine him as anything else but the goofy teenager he was when around you. So, a professional singer? It was improbable up to a hilarious degree.

Still, you were nervous and sad at the sight of Harry checking the content of his backpack one last time, checking if he had everything. He would be leaving early the next morning. It was the last evening you would share before he was off for an unknown period of time, and even if you both assumed it would be but a short one, it was still scary to think about how you didn't know when you would next see him. Maybe it was simply because it had never happened before, you guessed so, at the very least. Anything unknown was scary, after all.

Harry was trying to keep a calm façade, but you were far from a fool, and knew perfectly well that he was, in reality, terrified about the whole endeavour. After all, he was going to be leaving his home for some time. Any sixteen-year-old would find the mere thought terrifying.

After you brought all of his bags to the hallway by the front door, ready for his journey the next day, you settled for a while in the kitchen, where you prepared some toasts and sandwiches for your dinner. Anne was working late, and would not be coming home for another hour or so, which meant that Harry and you could enjoy some quality time together for a little longer.

You both laughed as you almost burned down the kitchen preparing the toasts, both of you pretending for that time that everything was normal. It was almost as if you had both silently came to the agreement that for that evening, while the two of you were alone cooking in the kitchen, his journey of the next day was but a reverie, and instead, the next morning would simply be the beginning of a normal day.

You talked about video games, and TV shows you found funny but stupid, and school. You couldn't really describe why talking with Harry was so different to talking to anyone else. It was just so easy. Fluent. It came without an effort, and it seemed that the two of you could have been left there for hours on your own and would still have found some things to say to each other, some new topic to discuss. You had always attributed that trait of his to the fact that he was your best friend, and had been so for such a long time. Knowing him so well meant that there wasn't much you didn't dare to do in front of him. You weren't afraid to be yourself when he was around, never had been.

And for a long time, you reckoned that it was simply explained by you seeing a brother in him. A twin of sort that you had never had. But as puberty started its work, and your mind embraced new possible explanations and understood new kinds of relationships, you wondered if a brotherly bond was really what united so closely the two of you.

Because you weren't sure that it was all there was to it, really. Maybe, it wasn't the reason why you didn't like his girlfriends. Maybe it wasn't why you were so sad to say goodbye tonight. Maybe it wasn't why you trusted him so blindly all the time. Why you always forgave him.

But you were young, and you weren't quite sure yet of what you felt meant. Maybe you were just trying to figure yourself out, and were making a fuss of nothing.

Or maybe, Harry meant something else to you than a brother.

All you knew was that when the conversation finally quietened, slowing down to reach a full stop that filled the room with silence, his departure on the tip of both your tongues once more, you were sad and afraid like you had never been before.

"We should wash the dishes," Harry threw one last attempt at avoiding the floating threat hovering in the comfortable silence. One last ammunition used to keep his fear at bay for a little longer, and instead, bathe in your presence for a little longer.

He couldn't really explain how he felt about you. It wasn't something he had felt with the few girls he had been with before, and it wasn't either a level of intimacy that he had ever reached with any other of his friends. You were in that special box in his heart, that had only your name on it, and no one else's. More than a friend, but not a girlfriend either. Somehow, you were more than that to him. You were family to him. But he didn't see you like a sister either. Maybe he had for a while, but it slowly yet irremediably changed along the past few years. He wasn't sure to understand what that box your name lived in inside his heart was, but he was okay with that, for now. Sixteen was young after all, to understand matters of the heart.

For now, he simply wanted to be with you whenever he could, and that was enough.

He started to wash the plates in the sink, while you grabbed a clothe and started to dry the cutlery.

You didn't notice the glances he threw towards your direction, and he didn't notice the way your eyes lingered on his features as if to carve them into memory either. It was an unspoken, halfway type of zone you had settled in. It was hard to escape it now.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" you asked, breaking the long silence that had settled in the kitchen, broken only by the distant murmur of cars passing by the street, and the water running from the faucet.

Had it been anyone else, Harry would have probably lied and pretended that he was perfectly fine.

But then, it was you, standing in that special little box of yours, and despite how fragile it made him feel, he answered you anyway.

"Yeah… I'm a bit nervous."

"I mean, I reckon it's normal to be so."

"Yeah… I mean, it's all new and I don't really know what will happen. And… huh… I think… It's gonna be hard to be away, I guess. I think I'll miss my mum a lot. And… and you too."

You stared at him for a moment, yellow photons from the lamp above your heads getting caught in the wild curls of his hair. He seemed a little lost. He was just a boy, after all.

You nudged him, trying to make him feel better.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm sure you'll be alright. Besides, you'll have fun, and make new friends over there, I'm sure. You will barely notice I'm not here."

He frowned, looking hurt at your statement, and you wondered why.

"You really think I would forget about you?" he asked, his voice a little too low, a little too deep, a little too fragile.

You shook your head, but he could see in the way you fidgeted with the cloth that you were not completely earnest with him.

"Of course not. I know you won't."

He turned off the water, the silence becoming deafening while he took his time to turn fully towards you, drying his hands on his worn-out jeans. Meanwhile, you were drying a plate, or at least, faking to do so, for there was no more water to sweep away across the porcelain. But it was easier to rub the white plate than to look at your friend at that moment.

"Hey, look at me."

When you stubbornly kept your eyes on this plate you kept on drying, Harry gently rested his hands upon yours, successfully interrupting your movements.

"Y/N. Please."

You let him take the plate away from you, putting it away before taking your chin in between his fingers to force you to turn to him. He wasn't surprised to find withheld tears glimmering in your eyes, yet the sight broke his heart all the same.

He couldn't see you cry. Never had been able to. He would have done anything to make you smile, and it had been so since the two of you were five.

He gave you a tender, reassuring smile.

"You're stupid sometimes, you know that?"

You frowned at that, taken aback. If anything, you weren't expecting that kind of response from him. But it wasn't all that he had to say.

"I could never forget you, you dummy. You're my best friend. You're… You're special to me. And whatever happens, I will never ever forget about you. Okay?"

You looked down at your feet, fleeing his green eyes that seemed to pierce right through all the pieces of armoury you had built around your soul. You nodded, slowly, your throat too tight to speak. But you weren't so worried anymore.

"You're not gonna forget about me either, are you?" he asked, his voice fragile again too.

You smiled one more time, looking up to find yourself trapped in the green hues of his irises.

"Now, you're being the silly one. Of course not. Besides, you'll be back in two weeks, tops. You're not half as charming as you think you are."

"Aren't I?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous way, making you laugh.

"No, you're not."

As you both fell quiet again, you suddenly seemed hype-aware of Harry's hold on your chin, that hadn't wavered throughout your exchange. He brushed his thumb across the soft skin, making you gasp.

And all of a sudden, there was a shift between the two of you. The air across the room seemed to be filled with electricity, growing denser, and maybe it was why both of you found it harder to breathe. Or maybe it was the way you both lost yourselves in each other's eyes in a way you never had before.

You caught him as he glimpsed down at your lips. You noticed the way his eyes travelled across your mouth, as if he was hesitating, weighing his options. You saw his Adam's apple jumping as he struggled to swallow the lump that was growing in his throat. When his gaze flickered back to meet yours though, both of you could barely breathe at all, your two hearts stomping under your ribcages.

His hold on your chin had become more of a caress than a hold: gentle, brushing of fingertips against your skin, giving you back complete freedom of your movements. Yet, you didn't want to move away at all.

And when Harry leaned closer to you, it was your turn to glance at his lips, watching the two lines barely parted fall towards yours. And when you realized what he was doing, you stopped breathing altogether.

Because Harry was about to kiss you.

But then he stopped, merely an inch or so away, his breath fanning and brushing your lips, warm and staggering, uncertain through uneven pants. And he was absolutely sure that he had never felt anything as intense as this moment in his entire short life.

But he stopped, because it was you he was about to kiss. His best friend. And even if you lived in that special box in his heart, even if, to him, maybe it meant that you were more than just a friend to him, you were way too important for him to take any uncalculated risk. So instead of closing the gap between your mouths, he stood still, in his kitchen under the yellowish light of the lamp, fingers still a little wet from washing the dishes, or maybe it was more because of how nervous he was. He needed to give you a chance to step back and stop him.

So, he blinked a few times, staring at your eyes with a silent question in his green irises. To which you answered by leaning closer to him too.

So… you didn't want him to stop?

He moved his hand up your jaw, cupping your cheek instead, closing his eyes and focusing on how warm the air leaving your lungs was against his face, breaths mingling together halfway between your parted lips.

And you were about to meet when the front door of Harry's house loudly opened.

"Harry! Y/N! I'm home!"

Both you and Harry jumped away from each other as Anne was ruffling in the hallway, probably taking off her shoes and coat.

In the kitchen, you both shied away. The moment had passed, broken, and you both knew that there wasn't going to be any other moment for you to be alone before Harry would leave.

Harry looked over his shoulder, and before his mother would appear, he hurried to take your hand in his.

He seemed frightened, and a little frantic. A little desperate too, still struggling to catch his breath.

"We'll talk about it when I come back."

You stared at him intensely, and he took your other hand in his as well.

"It's a promise. We'll talk about what just happened when I come back, okay? Cause… that… that was a thing. Right?"

"Yeah… yeah I think it… was a thing."

He struggled to swallow, stuttering a little as he let down his armour before you completely, and with a shaky voice asked one more question.

"Will you… would you wait for me?"

You gave him a reassuring smile, and to his hands you gifted a tender squeeze.

"I will. I'll wait for you."

 II. 

Loch Lomond, 2020

 Harry was pretty when he slept.

Not that he was ever not pretty, you reckoned that Harry was a very handsome man in general. But there was something soft in the way he looked when he slept, peaceful, that you really loved.

Maybe it was his parted lips, or the soft sound of air leaving his lungs in a perfectly regular rhythm. The occasional little crease between his brow that appeared and vanished at the rhythm of his dreams. Or the way his eyelids trembled a little sometimes before growing still again, eyelashes perfectly bent in the most graceful curve barely disturbed by the movement at all. Or perhaps it was how messy his hair became as they rubbed against the pillow.

But you could hardly deny that the main reason was that Harry always grabbed whatever he could during the night and held onto it for dear life throughout the rest of the night. To ensure that he would not disturb your sleep – and knowing Harry, probably also because he was worried it would make you uncomfortable – he had hold onto a pillow for the first evening, making sure that he would not end up curled around you instead. And it had worked, the two of you waking up peacefully on each side of the bed.

But not today.

This morning, you opened your eyes to find that the reason why you felt so warm and snuggled up was because you were safely tucked in Harry's side, his arms wrapped around you and his nose almost brushing yours, face resting at the edge of his own pillow, legs tangled in a mess of limbs. A quick glance across the bed revealed that the pillow he was hugging when you went to bed the previous night was nowhere to be seen. You guessed that Harry had dropped it to the floor during the night, turned around, probably wearing across his features a grumpy little pout as he tossed and turned while still mostly asleep, until he found your form sleeping soundly on the other side of the mattress. And then, well, the rest was easy to guess given your current position.

There was a little voice in your head that kept on telling you to pull away. That you should have felt uneasy with your current position. And had it been anyone but Harry, yes, you guessed that you would have been uncomfortable right now and would have freed yourself with little regard for the other person's sleep. But the thing was, it was Harry.

It was Harry all cuddled up around you, holding you close, and you didn't feel uncomfortable at all. You felt safe and warm and taken care of. Because it was Harry holding you. Harry who had always been here for you, since your early childhood. You felt so safe with him all the time after all, this morning waking up in his arms wasn't different. It was safe, the same way you always felt whenever he was around.

It was barely dawn and the orange light of the rising sun bathed the room a colourful hue. It was still quite dark, despite the deep orange shades of the beams licking at the walls. Particles of light were caught in his wild curls, brown tainted with orange, and you spent long minutes studying the changes in the colours, the way the light made his cheeks look a little pinker, the way it seemed to hug his jawline, and was left stranded across his eyelashes and the stubble that coloured his skin. It took all of your strengths to refrain yourself from running your fingers across the swallows tattooed on his upper chest, but you were too scared of waking him if you did so. You couldn't help but stare at them though, the black ink rising and falling with his regular breathing. He was still wearing his cross necklace around his neck, the gold reflecting the morning light. It wasn't the first time that you saw him with a bare chest, and it wasn't the first either that he hugged you without a shirt on. But it didn't stop you from shivering in the best way when he moved his arm around you ever so slightly, his bare skin sliding across your own bare arms. Because you were trapped in his arms, your arms folded between your two bodies, your hands were pressed against your chest. But now that your eyes were settling on his skin again, a little tanned and looking so invitingly smooth, you really couldn't summon enough willpower to not reach across the inches-long gap between your hand and his chest, and you gently rested your palm against his heart. You could feel the organ beating under his skin and muscles, little rhythm pulsing through your skin. Regular, soothing, safe. Just like Harry.

After a long while staring at him, with a smile across your lips you hadn't even noticed, your gaze moved across the room to settle upon the window instead, and you watched the quiet waters of the loch as it reflected the bright gold and orange of the sky. With the trees alongside the shores also covered with autumnal hues, it looked as if someone had painted the entire scene in shades of ochre. It was peaceful, a landscape still barely awake, that only the wind carrying freshly fallen skeleton leaves seemed able to disturb.

You didn't know for how long you had remained like this, staring at the landscape outside, safely tugged in Harry's warmth, when he finally started to stir and wake up. You turned to him again just in time to catch his eyes fluttering open, green irises appearing in the early morning light that fell upon your face instantly, as if they had been looking for you as a reflex. A bright smile appeared on his lips at the sight of your dishevelled and freshly awaken form in his arms.

"Morning," he mumbled, sleep making his voice deeper than usual, raw and warm.

"Good morning," you answered with a smile of your own.

He snuggled closer to you, until you were tugged under his chin, so he could bury his face in your hair, inhaling the addicting fragrance of your shampoo.

You were so warm against him. He could feel your hand pressed to his chest, and the mere touch was enough to set his whole body on fire. Your smell was reassuring, so reassuring, like the scent of something familiar, the scent of an old memory. And he felt so safe like this, with you in his arms. Invincible. Yes, that was the word. He felt invincible, like nothing bad could ever happen while he held you as close as he did now.

Why hadn't he done that sooner? It felt amazing.

His eyes snapped open when the thought finished to form in his mind.

Why hadn't he done that sooner? Because you were just a friend.

He quickly unwrapped his arms from around you, pushing himself away and in his haste to put distance between your two bodies, falling from the bed and onto the wooden floor and the pillow that had grown cold after he had lost it during the night. He let out a loud 'ouch', and when you peered beyond the bed, Harry was rubbing his arse cheek through his sweatpants. And you couldn't stop yourself from laughing at him.

"You alright down there?"

"Oh shut up!" he fought back, looking all pouty and grumpy, and you found the sight so ridiculously adorable that you had to laugh to stop yourself from melting instead.

"Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?" you asked a little more seriously.

"My butt and my ego will be equally bruised by the incident for a few days," he replied, but he couldn't refrain a smile of his own as the situation was rather hilarious.

You laughed at that, but grew silent again when he finally looked up at you. He seemed uncomfortable, running a hand in his hair. Embarrassed, even. And for some reason, it hurt to see him react like this.

"I… I'm sorry."

"About?"

"About… how we woke up," he apologized, stumbling on his words and stuttering a little. "I… I must have lost my pillow during the night."

"I had figured that much."

"I… I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You didn't. It's okay."

He gave you a hopeful stare.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," you nodded. "I mean, you were just hugging me, not much to say about it."

Nothing much to say about it? Then why was your heart still beating this fast just thinking about it then?

"I… you sure you're okay?"

You rolled your eyes at him.

"Yes, I'm sure. It's fine."

"Oh. Okay."

Harry had to admit that he was surprised that you were taking this so… well. As if it didn't have any meaning at all. When he had woken up cuddling you, holding you as close as he could.

As he finally stumbled back to his feet, he had to admit that he was not just surprised, he was also a little disappointed. Because he didn't take the situation as lightly as you did, and that was because…

He pushed the thought away before it could finish forming in his mind. He didn't need to think about this at all. It was all something from the past. He was over it. Had been for a while. No need to think of it again.

"Right. Well, still, I'm sorry."

"You were asleep, it's alright."

"You should have woken me up."

"I… I was barely awake myself, hadn't really processed what was going on yet."

It was a lie, but he seemed to buy it.

"Oh… okay."

"Besides, I've noticed by now how clingy you can be!" you joked, making him chuckle.

"Right… uhm… I'm gonna go take a shower, and then we can go grab a bite for breakfast, yeah?"

"Sure, you can take the shower first."

"Thanks."

And indeed, Harry was grateful that you granted him access to the bathroom first. Because he could hide how much he was blushing in there.

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

Taglist :  @emcchi​​​​ @fishstick-knows​​​​​ @eldahae​​​​​​ @just-damn-bored​​​​ @retrouvailessx​​​​​ @marvelstudies2020​​​​ @boxofteenageideas​​​@ponycake27​​​​​​​​ @horsesreign​​​​​​​ @xinyourdreamsx​​​​​​ @jbluevelvet​​​​​@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​​​​​ @stuckupstucky​​​​​​@snek-shit​​​​​​ @suchatinyinfinity​​​​​​@i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​​​​​​​@jigsawlover10​​​​​​ @emyyjemyy​​​​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​​​​​​​​ @staringmoony​​​​​​​@madamrogers​​​​ @cronias13​​​​​ @stylesfics-xx​​​​​​ @mellamolayla​​​​​​ @mariaenchanted​

@swtxel​

[madlyinlovephff]

Chapter Seven

“X Marks the Spot”

“When someone finds something they have been looking for”

-------------------

“Escapes me why you wouldn’t just get ‘Air Edwards’ printed on it, its your’s for god’s sake” Amelia joked at me as the car stopped on the runaway.

I threw her an annoyed look, having heard the joke before “Shut up or I won’t let you on it”.

She pushed me as we got out of the car, her huffing behind me. My security detail including Kyle and Gary had already started getting both our stuff out of the cars and into the jet.

“Answer me sister, why buy it when you don’t even want to claim it?” Amelia winked at me as she stepped towards the jet and I rummaged through my purse for my phone.

Karol and Lima had gone their merry way already, knowing having a complete week off while working for me is both a blessing and a rarity, they decided to leave before me to start their fun; whatever it was. As much as I know and remember, Lima had gone back home to her mother’s for the week.

“Because we share the surname and there’d be no telling exactly whose it is” I sent a cheeky smile her way as we both laughed getting up the small stairs and into the private jet.

We’d decided to travel apart from the rest of the bridal party and a few hours before both the parties to get the house in order. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned before, but my vacation homes are much more used by my friends and family than me. It was almost an occupational hazard of sorts.

It wasn’t long before the plane had taken off and my sister and I settled low on our seats as we were served dinner. The flight was long; 12 hours and a few minutes to be exact but Amelia and I were no strangers to long flights and sleepy nights; particularly in that order.

She turned to look at me when she heard me sighing, “Hey Addy, thanks for coming out for me today. I don’t know how you do it, but you really don’t let me down”.

“I should be the one saying that, idiot. You’re the one who is always there for me before I even ask you. And what kind of a sister would it make me if I couldn’t even make it to your show while I’m on a break?”

“Yeah, a break that began not even 4 days ago. You’re not really taking a break, to be honest Adds”, she gave me a concerned look.

I frowned at her, “I am taking time off and going to Greece for 5 days. How is that not taking a break?” I asked her, confused.

“Mary Olivia’s wedding is very last minute, I know you didn’t know about it 2 days ago because I didn’t either. Don’t use this as an excuse because we both know you would be here even if you weren’t on a break” she said.

I sighed and turned away from her, knowing I couldn’t win with her.

I heard her open her laptop, starting to type. “Well if you’re not going to talk to me, I won’t make you” 

I rolled my eyes, “Keith told me to take a break, you know” I confessed.

If Amelia was shocked she hid it well, “You mean to say Keith told you to take a break too” she said.

I chucked, “Yeah. Said my songs are starting to sound the same; repetitive”

She was quiet for sometime. “He’s not wrong, you know. Addy, I love you but your personal life has been a flat road for years now. I honestly am shocked sometimes by the media attention on you because to be honest, you aren’t the most interesting person out there for them”.

I cackled at that, having missed her blunt tongue.

“I know right? I wonder about that too sometimes. How are they not bored of me yet?”

She smiled softly, “You’re going to have to let someone in, you know. Sooner or later” she whispered.

I nodded, feeling drained of having the same talk with everyone. Could I get a break from this?

________________________________________________________________________________

“Kyle, what did Victoria tell you about the house situation again?” Amelia asked as we both scrolled through her Instagram, me laying my head on her shoulder as we were on our way to the villa in the outskirts of Santorini.

The weather was better, trees were greener, vibes were warmer in Greece. It was one of my most favourite places in the world; and that’s saying something because I’ve been to a lot of places. 

The sea is the best in Greece, hands down. It is the absolute best here.

Kyle didn’t turn behind, instead met her eyes through the rear view mirror as he replied, “Vic just said the caretaker had gotten it cleaned. The security has been posted around the perimeter and at the gate and the pool’s been cleaned too”

I hummed. “What about the cook?”, I asked.

Kyle cleated his throat, “Victoria said she was told not to get a cook”.

My eyes widened as I started panicking. No cook? Who the hell was going to attend to the 14 guests that were on their way to the villa?

“Wha-

Amelia shushed me, “Hey, don’t worry. I was the one that told Vic to do so. I said I’d cook”

I turned to look at her, incredulously, “What? Why would you cook?”

“Why can’t I cook, Adelaide?”

“It’s not that. Why would you cook for 18 people? Have you gone mad? We don’t have Nana’s help here, if you’ve forgotten” I ranted, now anxious.

My sister sent me an exasperated look as if I was worrying for no reason. “You react so violently sometimes, I almost want to slap you”.

“You always want to slap me”.

“Not always”, she winked.

It wasn’t long before we were reaching the familiar neighbourhood and I started getting my purse in order, sighing in relief as we entered the gated area, stopping for security reasons. I made sure Victoria called ahead for extra security, specially at the entrance for everyone that is entering the villa because all in all, I took security as a responsibility if the entire bridal and groom party of my old friends were to be held at one place. 

Being too careful never hurt no one.

“You carry so much security. Sometimes I think you’re a country’s president”, of course my kind sister had to have a comment about everything. But she wouldn’t be Amelia if she didn’t make fun of me for everything.

“Shut the fuck up, Em” 

She threw me a peace sign just as the car stopped at the entrance of my beautiful white villa, very aged in reality but it had been with me for just a little under 3 years. 

Some of the workers were cleaning the gardens and the pools, I noticed at once. There was a man using the land mower, making a lot of noise but I was fine with it until and unless they were done with the cleaning before the guests started arriving.

“I thought the house was polished already?” Amelia asked Kyle, stepping inside the main foyer area, the white walls standing tall beside her petite figure. Kyle shrugged, indicating he was going to place a call regarding the same.

It wasn’t soon before we were both bounded inside, our luggage being dragged in after us that we were sat at the familiar couch in the living area, a coffee already on the stove courtesy of my sister. 

“We have so many memories here, no?” I sighed, as I looked around.

Amelia chuckled, “Every summer for the last 4 years now? I love this place Addy, don't know what I’ll do if you decide to ever sell it” she said.

I frowned at her, “We both know you’d never let me sell this house; and even if I do, you’ll probably buy it from me just so you can stake a claim in your name. You’re forgetting I know you too well” I rolled my eyes, laughing.

“Probably”

————————-————————————————————

There was a knock on my door. “You’re done changing or what? Security is sending them in as we speak” Amelia said, hanging halfway inside my room, then almost slipping on her feet.

I rolled my eyes at her, “You aren’t even wearing heels, Em” I say and I follow her out of the room, turning the lights off as I exit. 

She looked down at my feet, seeing my 6 inch stilettos and face palmed, “I feel under-dressed now so let me just go and change. You know, I really hate being your sister”.

“Yeah right”

It wasn’t long before people were bounding inside, Charlotte Wellesley being the first one to step inside, her Hermeś bag on her right arm. Sophia, Willa and Mary Olivia were the next ones followed by a lot of men, most of whom were from Robbie’s side. However, I could hear a commotion outside.

“Look at this place! I always underestimate you, Addy” Charlotte exclaimed, in a tone I knew I didn’t like. So it wasn’t a surprise that my fake smile didn’t bother her in the least. Sometimes you have to deal with aristocrats like her too.

“What’s going on outside?” I asked Robbie, as I pulled out of our hug. Amelia had just arrived on the scene too, now in her beige 5.5inch heels. 

Robert, Robbie’s brother, laughed at that, “Harry’s security isn’t being allowed to come inside. Your security is giving them hell because of some issue” he said.

After kissing everyone’s cheeks, I was outside like a breeze, worried about the issue. I took hosting at my place way too seriously even if the event had nothing to do with me. I hated tarnishing a good hosting.

Apart from the 7 more cars in my driveway, and more people stepping out of the cars or others getting help from my service for getting their luggage out, there were about 6 people right outside the main gate, clearly in a heated argument.

“Kyle? What seems to be the issue here?” I said, not even noticing that my voice had taken an authoritative tone. 

Kyle and Gary both turned towards my voice, along with the rest of the men. All of them were dressed in black suits, and badges indicating how 2 of them were someone’s security detail.

“Look, miss, His Royal Highness will not be stepping inside if his security detail isn’t allowed to. However, he is here off-schedule so we request you do not waste his time on such a trivial matter” a buff man said, very formally.

I squinted at him in anger, how dare he speak to me in such a manner! I ignored as Gary said something to him as a rebuttal.

“No, you look here, mister. No one steps foot on my property until and unless their background checks were sent to my security prior to their arrival. This includes other personnel of security as well. This is my property and an event I’ve taken under my supervision. So I apologise if I’m wasting someone’s time, but this isn’t a trivial matter for me. This matter is solved, Kyle. Gary, show them the way out where they can wait while I speak to Robbie and Mary in private” I said, anger in my tone and fire in my eyes because if there’s one thing I don’t react well to; it’s authority from someone who clearly has no authority over me.

“Yes ma’am” both Kyle and Gary said in unison, before the rest of my security started showing them the way out and I turned.

“Well, that was quite a speech. I must say I’m impressed” came a voice, I detected the posh British accent in it in a second. 

I turned around to face the man, already done with this shit. I hate dealing with stuff like this.

It wasn’t long before I stopped in my tracks, and I noticed the man did too. For a few seconds, we just stared at each other and I wondered why I had to be in this situation with this man, and this man alone. Couldn’t it be anyone else in the whole wide world?

It was Prince Harry. 

Ofcourse. Robert mentioned the name Harry and his security dropped the HRH. It was right in front of my face.

He recovered first, smiling beautifully. “Adelaide, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you yet” he said, putting his hand forward.

I caught his hand, still not breaking the eye contact. I don’t know why I wasn’t able to look away from those baby blues in this instant, but I hoped I didn’t look like a creep.

“Your Royal Highness, likewise”.

He chuckled, something dimming in his eyes as I called out his title and I noted that he probably didn’t like being called that.

“Uh I’m sorry for the mishap, Ms. Edwards. I fully recognise that it was a mistake at our end-“

“So then you also understand how my security can’t do their work if they let inside someone they had received no prior information about” I cut him off, crossing my arms, almost forgetting who I was talking to but I was in my element in that moment.

He paused for a while there, probably not expecting me to act the way I did. He looked at his 2 bodyguards and shook his head at them.

“What is the solution to this then?” He asked, turning to look at Kyle and Gary.

I frowned at him as my security detail looks at me as he questions them. I cleared my throat, now fully realising that everyone was outside at the garden patio and involved in our drama.

“The solution to this is them stepping out of my property for the next 24 hours which gives my security proper time to do background checks” I said, exaggerating a little but I was triggered. 

Harry visibly sighed, “Is there no other way? They are royal security, if they’re with me that means they already have gone through an extensive background check.”

I took a beat, “Look sir, I have a policy about this that I plan to uphold; it’s the same as if you were here without any security and someone else brought in two highly trained personnel with guns on my property”, I gave him a look because I knew I had hit a correct point with this one.

“Ma’am, you have more than a dozen security officers here right now, it is not possible for His Royal Highness to step in without any prior knowledge to this either”, one of his protection officers said.

I frowned, not acknowledging that he was right to a certain degree too.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and turning to look at Kyle and Gary, “Alright, here’s how this is going to work; these two security officers will be allowed to enter the grounds, however they will not be entering the building or be allowed in the backyard and the private beach”,

I then turned towards the Prince and his officers, “As is the rule for all of my security detail except for Kyle and Gary, here. This is the best I can offer you” I gave them a look, ready to step out of the conversation because I was suddenly reminded of the fact that we still have no cook and almost 2 dozen people to feed.

As I walked away from the scene, I heard Harry berating his officers but by then, I was over this issue. I walked inside the place, noticing numerous luggage bags all over the place and 2 people in the pool already before I entered the kitchen, squinting at Amelia who stood there, hands on her hip and barefoot.

“Is this the time when I get to say I told you so?” I chuckled, laughing harder when Amelia turned around with an extremely offended look on her face.

“I really didn’t realise just how hectic it’d be considering we just travelled overnight too”, she pouted and I decided to just be the bigger person at the moment because we quite literally have a lot of people to feed.

“Dial Kyle’s number and ask him to come inside, lets just get him to get the cleaning people to distribute cookies and juices in everyone’s rooms” I instructed her, and within a minute Kyle was stood in the doorway to the huge white kitchen, trying not to laugh as well.

“Shut up, get me a cook or two from the city as fast as you can, and get me two of the cleaning staff that can give around juices and biscuits, atleast till we figure this stuff out”

“On it, Addy”, and he was gone.

“I have an idea” Amelia said, and I rolled my eyes. “Spare me another one of your ideas, please”.

“Can you just listen? So let’s just start with salad and cocktails because we are going to be able to get done with them in the next half hour while the cook situation gets fixed” she said and I thought that might have just been the only good thing she’s said all day but I didn’t voice that particular opinion.

“Alright, you can get started on the salad, I’ll take the cocktails-”

“What’s this about cocktails, I hear?”, came a voice from the doorway and I turned so fast at that familiar voice, Amelia almost gave me a weird look.

There stood Prince Harry of Wales in all his glory, visibly relaxed than I’d seen him earlier in my front porch, and I pretended the blinding smile of his didn’t bother me. Because, it didn’t. 

“Uh Your Royal Highness, I had no idea you’d be joining us”, my poor sister sounded so confused as she threw me a similar expression, but obviously held her own because we at the end of the day, we were British.

Harry laughed politely at that, “Yeah, a lot people wished they received the guest list earlier”, he said smiling at me, to which I squinted my eyes at.

Amelia gave me another look and by this time, I was so done with her obvious looks; I wanted to get out of the kitchen. Cutting my train my of thought, 2 of the cleaning staff we’d hired entered the kitchen, throwing uneasy looks at the occupants in the kitchen and not having a clue as to why they were sent here.

“Hello, I’ve called for you here; just do me a favour and hand out some cookies and juices to the guests in all the bedrooms and by the pool, yes?” I said as my sister started getting the said stuff out of the cabinets and onto separate trays. All this while, I noticed how calmly Prince Harry stood leaning against the plush doorway seeing the scene in front of him and didn’t utter a word until the staff was out.

“You were serious when you said this was your property” he stated.

My sister laughed at that, already getting started with her famous Mediterranean Salad as I noticed her fetch the soya sauce out of the fridge, “How come you two have never met before?” She mused, pretending as if she was asking the question to herself.

I sighed, not wanting this to turn awkward, “I don’t to know to your question and yes I was serious to yours; now Amelia, can we please figure out the starters at least until Kyle gets the word out?”

“You take this hostess thing pretty seriously, don’t know?” Harry asked and I could almost sense a teasing tone underneath his words as my sister and I ran about the kitchen, setting stuff up for the preparation of the salad and cocktails.

Amelia glanced at me as she noticed I was in no mood to reply to that comment, mostly because it was true, “You have no idea, it gets taken for granted most of the times too” she said, smiling at him.

“Hi, I’m Harry; it’s a pleasure to meet you” he said after a heartfelt laugh as Amelia introduced herself and they shook hands on it. He looked at me for a moment, probably deciding whether or not he should do the same with me but my teasing smile must’ve made the decision for him.

“Hello there, they call me Harry; what do they call you?” 

“They have too many names for me, kind sir”

“Well, what name do you like to be called by, fair maiden?”, he asked, eyes twinkling.

I pretended to think it over, getting ice from the ice-cooler, “Ms. Edwards, if you will”.

He squinted his eyes at me, the teasing smile still on his face and I could just feel Amelia’s eyes on us throughout the conversation; it wasn’t until we heard a crash that we broke eye contact, just to see that my sister had dropped the knife.

The vibe in the kitchen was too chill for me to even think twice about a Royal’s presence in the kitchen of my home with my sister in attendance. He laughed at my sister’s antics and picked up the knife before she could, turning to look around the kitchen as if he was seeing it for the very first time.

“It’s a nice place you got here, Santorini has the most beautiful water”, he said casually and I smirked as I remembered how I said exactly that to my sister earlier in the day.

“Thank you, I got it on sale actually”

“Oh, did you now?” 

It was quiet after that comment as I shook my head, “you can go right ahead to the pool if you’ve freshened up already; we’re sorting the food situation out”.

Harry leaned against the customised white marble counter, “I heard something about making cocktails and decided it would be highly impolite if you weren’t made to taste some of mine specialities”.

“We aren’t having you work while we host, Harry”, Amelia said, shaking her head at him.

“I’m offering it to you”

“Well, we didn’t ask for it. Our nana would turn in her grave if she were here” I said, setting up all the beverages in front of me to get started on the drinks.

He sighed, looking at the two of us as if he couldn’t believe we weren’t accepting his help. “Is it because I’m too handsome?”

A burst of laughter sprung out of me before I could even think about it, “That definitely isn’t the reason why”.

It wasn’t long before he had convinced us that no one in the world could make a better Black and Tan than him, after he saw the bottles of pale and dark beer on the counter. 

“You will love it, just trust me”, he said and I rolled my eyes as I got started on my cosmopolitan. 

A few minutes later, Kyle walked in with three people; two men and a woman. He stopped short when he noticed Harry standing beside me, trying to snatch the single vodka bottle we had left. He didn’t comment on it because he knew better and just introduced us to the three cooks he managed to get to us in the short amount of time. Amelia thanked him before asking him to get more beverages, to which he quietly responded and promptly left the kitchen.

We decided to set up the late lunch in the beautiful wooden Gazebo outside, that I had had visions about for the longest of time before it got installed in this villa. It could seat well over 25 people. Amelia and I argued about that too but we reached a decision pretty quick when we saw the weather outside. 

The smell of the Greek Sea reached my senses, as the temperature already started to get a little chilly since it was early February. Harry was helping us throughout, bringing his special cocktails out in the sun, walking alongside me, as he placed the tray on the large bamboo table (that I got custom made specially in Brazil).

“This might just be one of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen”, he said, eyes trained on the vast sea in front of us, which was just a few steps down from the rock the villa was built upon.

I hummed in response and noticed how quickly he got involved in conversation with the rest Robbie’s groomsmen, hearing the word Hazza over and over again. I went inside the kitchen again, checking up on the food when Amelia entered after me and just stood there, staring at me.

“Yes?”

“Don’t yes me; what the hell is going on between you two?”

“Between who two?”, I knew who she was talking about because how could I not with all of her obvious stares.

“Don’t think you can play me, Adelaide. I thought you’d never met Prince Harry before?”, she asked, confused.

I looked around, satisfied that none of the three cooks looked even mildly interested in our conversation. “That’s because I haven’t; well, not before today”, I replied.

“It certainly did not look that way. Why is he being so chill with you?” 

“Hell if I knew. Maybe he’s a fan” I threw her a cheeky smile at that, walking out of the kitchen as she followed me.

“Yeah sure, that’s definitely it”, she said and I didn’t reply to her because for one, I didn’t have an answer to her and second, we were amongst 20 other people as we stepped out once again.

Everyone had started mingling, as I found myself in conversation with Louis Spencer, someone I’d met numerous times before because of his on-again, off-again relationship with my cousin, MacKinley Edwards. He even had been to our family estate over Christmas Holidays two years back.

MacKinley is my first cousin on my paternal side; being the only daughter of my Uncle, Matthew Edwards who is the younger brother to my father. To be honest, I had zero idea about Mac’s and Louis’ current relationship status and I was too afraid to ask. 

I caught Harry’s eyes as I was laughing at something Louis had said and his eyes flitted over to him, frowning as he stepped out of his circle, clearly intending to join Louis and I.

I raised my eyebrows at him, as he handed me another Martini, side hugging Louis as he did some weird fist bump thing.

“You two know each other?” Harry asked, pointing at Louis and I, and we turned towards each other, smiling.

“A little too well, no, Addy?” Louis smiled a Cheshire grin, nudging me with his shoulder.

Harry was clearly very confused at our relaxed attitude. He asked Louis to explain; and I was suddenly hit by the realisation that the two of them looked a little too similar. The resemblance was definitely there.

“You remember MacKinley, don’t you? Adelaide Edwards here is cousins with her”, he replied, sipping his drink.

“MacKinley Edwards? You’ve been going out with her forever” 

“The very same one. Afraid the surname is the same one” I sarcastically said, biting my tongue afterwards as Louis shook his head at my response.

“I’ve known Addy and Amelia just as long as I’ve known Mac; we even spent a Christmas at her estate two- three years back?” 

“Two”

“Two years back”

Harry nodded, clearly a little thrown off by that information as I took that opportunity to ask about their relation, slapping my forehead as Louis relayed the information about them being first cousins as well, on Harry’s mother’s side and Louis’ father’s. I obviously was privy to this piece of knowledge beforehand, however it hadn’t hit me until just that very moment.

“That was wee bit weird, no?” Harry laughed as Louis walked away from us.

“It just keeps hitting me how we’ve never met before today” I replied, taking a sip of my Martini.

He took a deep breath, “That ought to be the truest thing I’ve heard today”.

It wasn’t long until food was being served and everyone was seated around the bamboo table, people pulling their white chairs back to sit. Pizza was being cooked in the natural oven we got installed outside, the smell of chicken overtaking my senses and I realised I didn’t have my phone on me to click the picture of the delicious scene on the table.

I started asking everyone to help themselves as Amelia sat on my right and Louis on my left. Robbie poured everyone Champagne as he remained the only one standing. Once he was done, he told us that he’d like to make a toast and then turned to look directly at me.

“To Adelaide and Amelia ofcourse, for so graciously accepting to host us here and always being the friends that Mary’s frustrated at awful hours of the morning. We love the both of you” He raised his glass as did his fiancé; my sister and I raising it back to them as everyone yelled.

“This is such a beautiful property, Adelaide. I’m in love” Sophie commented and I smiled at her.

Robbie continued his toast only to be cut off by Mary-Olivia as she started hers. We all laughed at their antics. Late lunch which had already turned into an early supper, finally started as everyone helped themselves to it.

I caught Harry’s eyes somewhere in the midst of it, throwing him a smile as he replied with a similar one. I asked Amelia to turn on some music as I didn’t have my phone on me at the very moment as she teased me with ‘Should I play one of yours, hm?’, and I slapped her shoulder at that.

It got worse when someone asked Amelia what had happened as she let out a loud laugh at my reaction; and then she continues to tell them exactly what happened. I rolled my eyes as everyone chuckled at the taunt, Louis being the loudest of them and I mimicked shooting him in the head before he came to an abrupt stop.

An hour later, the guests were sprawled all around the area, some in the pool; others in the hot tub and a few just lounging on the beach chairs. Mary-Olivia and Robbie were dancing quietly and I was conversing with Charlotte because we both happened to be at the outside bar at the same time. I was getting myself a whiskey and I didn’t bother to know what she was getting herself; ducking out of the conversation as soon as I had my drink in one hand and my phone in the other.

I headed down the rocky steps to the beach, initially standing and then just sitting down as I took a deep breath, the wind running through my hair and I felt alive for the first time in a long while. I continued sipping my drink, glad to be away from all the noise when I heard a voice behind me.

Turning to look back at whoever had followed me, I saw Harry; clearly on a with someone. I didn’t think he me until he cut the call, swiping at his phone and turned to look ahead, finding my eyes. I could sense he thought twice about coming over, as he reached me and plopped down beside me on the chilly sand.

“This shouldn’t be considered safe, you know. High tide’s on” he said, eyes locked on the ocean ahead.

“Pretty sure it isn’t”

We sat in silence for the next few minutes, laughter from the house above reaching our ears; clearly someone was thrown into the pool as a shrieking followed. Probably Mary-Olivia.

“I feel like I should apologise, for this morning” he said, turning to look at me.

I shook my head, sipping my drink as his eyes followed my movement; “I wouldn’t worry about it a lot, I do apologise if I let myself get too heated. I just take this stuff seriously because that’s exactly what I’d expect from someone else, you know?”, to which he hummed.

“Also for not letting them inside the property”, he chuckled as he continued.

I joined in the chuckling fest, “You’re very welcome”.

Another silence crawled its way in but it was nice. It was a different kind of silence that wasn’t awkward but serene. Sitting out here with him didn’t feel like an intrusion from either of our sides, and I found myself breathing a little easier. 

Not much had to be said, we were two strangers after all; but at the same time, it felt comfortable. It wasn’t like me to feel so relaxed with someone so soon. There were so many things two complete strangers could talk about, but we chose to be silent.

I caught him looking at me a few times, the blue in his eyes so mellow because of the dark. I thought about what he saw when he looked me.

It felt nice. Normal, even.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Addy’s Vacation Home in Greece

Addy at the Airport

Addy in Greece

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 7

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4 ; Chap 5 ; Chap 6

Masterlist : here

AN : You’re so gonna hate me for the ending. And the twins are Taurus just like me so I based some of their personality traits after some knowledge I have of our zodiac sign... I’m writing part 10 atm ! Please feel free to message me or tell me what you thought of this part! I can’t say it enough, thanks for the love and support ! Each week I’m more excited to post the new chapter.

Chapitre 7 : Won't you come over ?

Replying to Jake's texts after what had happened felt wrong, but I couldn't leave him on read. Our relationship was great so far and I couldn't sabotage it for a misunderstanding with Josh. What I could do, on the other hand, was talking to Josh. So I started testing the waters when I met Jake in front of the school the next morning. It was the last day we were giving out flyers. The festival was coming soon and then we were all on Christmas holidays so we had to give as much as we could today. It was exhausting but every minute spent with the brunette was worth of everything else.

- Just ask.

We were both quiet before he spoke out of the blue, leaving me confused. Did I think out loud ?

- I can see there's something bothering you, he said without looking at me. Shoot.

With a defeated sigh, I let myself slouch, taking a break from our activity. Jake did the same, sitting on a step and gesturing for me to join him. Not many people wandered outside at this time of the year, and the stone was so cold under my butt I felt a shiver run down my spine. A few more minutes sitting there and it'll get anesthetized. Jake must've caught it because he gently rubbed my back in a vain attempt to keep me warm. I couldn't feel it through all the layers of clothing I had on my back but it felt good nonetheless. His caring attitude always succeeded in making me feel better.

- Have you heard anything from Josh ?, I asked tentatively.

The boy next to me raised his eyebrows in a knowing way before interrupting his back rubs, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and politely offering me one. He lit his own when I declined his offer, and took his time blowing the smoke in the air before answering me.

- Not after his lunch extravaganza from yesterday.

The choice of words made me wince a bit. He didn't sound as patient as he had been the day before.

- I don't know what got into him, admitted Jake while admiring the park before us. He wouldn't talk to me when I got in our room after school, so we just kept silent. He can be very stubborn and never explains what upsets him, expecting you to guess. I tend to be the same, so I know it'll pass. Don't you worry about it.

Even if Jake's advice was to let it be, it bothered me too much to just wait for things to become less awkward again. Was it really siblings' rivalry ? I couldn't tell. And as much as I understood and respected Josh's choice of not wanting to adress the issue, it wouldn't solve anything at all. I couldn't possibly just sit here and wait for him to come talk to us. What if he did that with every little things we did that upset him ? We had to talk it out.

It was now my time to admire the scenery in front of us. The peacefulness of it calmed me a bit. When all the students were already lining in front of their classrooms, the quiet melody of the wind brushing the trees' leaves accompanying Jake's soft inhaling sounds put me at ease. The singular smell of tobacco didn't threw me off, in fact it mixed weirdly well with Jake's perfume. There was something very him in that mix. Tobacco, shampoo, incense, and something that I could only describe as his scent. Something I'd love to make a scented candle of. Sometimes, after spending entire hours together, I could smell it on my coat, or hair, and at times like these I'd smile to myself thinking how it'd be nice to sleep on his shirt, to bath on his scent.

- Mama are you listening ?

- I'm sorry, what ?

Daydreaming of him when he was just a few inches near made me embarrassed enough for my cheeks to turn pink and my voice to crack a little. As someone who tended to be lost in his thoughts a good portion of the time he didn't take offense in it and got on his feet, repeating the part I missed.

- I said you must be real popular because half of the flyers were taken by the Illustration Department.

Always the polite one, Jake offered his hand to help me get up and I took it this time, enjoying the light squeeze of his fingers under mine as he got me on my feet.

- Not really. But I manage to get along with everybody, curiously so.

- I don't think that is.

The brunette spoke seriously, stuffing his cold hands in his pockets as he lead the way to the nearest entrance. Can't say I was a fan of cryptic messages but I couldn't bring myself to ask him for precisions either. Truth to be told, deep down I understood the subtle praise but acknowledging it would mean falling for him even deeper than I had already. And it scared me.

Nobody came to what Mandy had baptised The Lunch Club today. And it wasn't because of the overly obvious movie reference but simply because the four of us weren't comfortable enough to eat or even hang out together given the current situation. Josh would probably skip it because he was still upset, and getting together without him just didn't feel right. Of all things it would just prove Josh's point, if I had understood it correctly. And I would lie if I said that eating in the dorms wasn't convenient. It had a lot of advantages. First of all, the heater. Comfort. And actual warm food.

Mandy came back from the workshop just as I was making pasta, already exhausted and looking like she didn't have a proper night of sleep in days.

- Are you alright ?

- I'm so tired you have no idea, I worked all week-end to finish a stupid dress.

Poor girl, she couldn't feel her fingertips and her hands were covered in band aids. She sinked into a chair and I patted her on the back to try and bring her a little bit of comfort while she explained everything that I missed over lunch, keeping me updated. We didn't have much time to talk these last few days since we were so busy working on our assignments, and also because I went home for the week end.

- By the way, she said with a mouthful of pasta, How's Jake ?

The death glare I gave her only made her grin grow wider as she set her plate aside. To be fair maybe I owed her an explanation because she got caught in that extremely awkward Kiszka situation last time and she doesn't even know anything about it. Well, she did know a bit of it but we didn't have time to properly gossip yet.

- Well... We text sometimes and he's... I don't even know how to put it into words dude, he's dreamy.

Mandy motionned for me to give her my phone so she could look at our texts and I did. There wasn't anything private in here anyway, just friends chatting. Sometimes getting cocky. Studying her face and biting my lip, I saw her blinking a few times, opening her mouth in false shock, or whistling.

- Oh my, you guys get along, don't you ?

I shook my head in disbelief.

- We do. But there's nothing that interesting-

- Not yet, she cut me with a raised finger. But I can tell you're going there, just be patient. Or maybe be more daring, you know ? Test the waters.

Of course I took note of that. Mandy didn't seem like it but she was of very good advice (most of the time). And she had way more luck with boys that I did. Hell, she even had luck with girls. Being more daring, noted. Jake himself, without being flirty, liked to tease and wasn't afraid to sound over-confident, so being bold wouldn't do me any harm, I guess. I'll show him that two could play this game. But right now, my mind was set on something else.

- Do you know where I can find Josh ? I'd like to talk to him.

Pausing, Mandy squinted her eyes, thinking hard. Every hint was good to take, the school wasn't as big as most campuses, but there was enough students to form a small town.

- Try asking Jake ? He must know, she shrugged. Last time I met him was this saturday night, he was carrying snacks and wandering around the school in his Pjs. Man he must love those cheese balls.

Although the last sentence was more rhetorical than directed to me, it made a lightbulb lit up in my brain. Without any explanation, I put my plate in the sink, excused myself, grabed a coat, my sketchbook, and stormed out of the dorms. Saying that I was running to my destination was a bit of an overstatement, but walking very fast was an accurate description. My coat was halfway wore and hung loosely around my shoulders, allowing the cold air to caress my neck and make my skin tingle. My hair must've looked like a mess because I had tied it while cooking, and don't even get me started on my panting, lungs frozen and cold sweat running down my spine because I hurried like someone was after me. By the time I got to the vending machine near the cafeteria, there wasn't anything I wanted more than to nap right here right now. But at least, I caught Josh on time.

- We need to talk.

Was it the heavy breathing or the way my back fell completely against the candy dispenser, I didn't know, but the boy jumped, letting go of his change in the process.

- Fuck you scared me ! What the hell are you doing, surprising people like that ?

- Trying to chat with my friend.

I kept my eyes on Josh as he knelt to get his money, studying his back tense and his movements stop. The boy let out an audible sigh before raising his head to me, searching for something into my eyes, probably sincerity. He couldn't hold my gaze more than mere seconds before focusing on his candy again, and a wave of panic started hurtling my body, setting in my stomach, tying it in knots.

- I'm sorry.

It wasn't me speaking, it was Josh. The boy nervously scratched his neck, refusing to look at me.

- I shouldn't have snapped at you, it wasn't fair. It's not about siblings rivalry or anything, you know ?, he murmured while idly twiddling his bag of chips. I guess I was feeling a bit left out, got a little jealous...

His voice was barely audible now, and seeing him looking vulnerable and ashamed to admit the truth had my heart tighten.

- I can't ask of you to tell me when you text my brother, I don't have any right to do that, it's just... It was stupid, I...

- Josh, I interrupted. It's okay. I'm sorry too. We should've included you or tell you. It wasn't fair of us, and I don't want you to feel left out.

My hand found its way on his shoulder, and I felt him relax a little under the comforting touch. Maybe he knew I was being honest, because he gave a small nod and a bashful smile, a look I didn't know I'd see on his face one day. It gave me the courage to keep up my momentum.

- You know what ? Why don't you drop by our dorm after school ? We'll chat and have a drink. Just the three of us.

Mandy wasn't bothered at all my our improvised get together, on the contrary. She loved the guy, in a friendly way. We both did. When I texted her this afternoon in the workshop she got so excited she said she'll buy some beer when she got out of her lecture. Josh and I had exchanged numbers too, so all misunderstanding was clarified now, and receiving both of their overly enthusiastic texts got me in the mood too. By the time the teacher said we could pack up, I was already at the door, jumping out of my shoes and tidying the room as much as I could before Josh's visit. He needed the key to enter our building, so Mandy picked him up while I was putting some music, and both were already very loud by the time I heard them climb the stairs, laughing and exchanging jokes while carrying huge bags of booze.

- Do you know it's an honor for you to get invited to our lair ?, said Mandy as she put the beers in the fridge. You're actually the first person we ask to come over.

- Are you serious ?!, Josh inquired, pretending to be shocked. Ladies, it's an immeasurable pleasure to be your first. I'll be worthy of it, I'll behave, and you'll be so amazed by my charming self that you'll keep asking for more afterwards.

The dirty joke made us snort real loud, and even made my cheeks color, as I yelled his name, outraged by his unabashed and salacious humor, looking very proud of himself. It was something Mandy and I often used to question a few weeks ago, his flirty behaviour. And whereas we thought he was a womanizer at first, it turned out that it was just his usual self. Josh was over confident, much to handle, loud, energetic, witty, kinky, and all over the place, but damn was he right. The boy was a delight to be around. We went from cracking jokes, to confessing shameful sexual anecdotes, to having passionate conversations about the meaning of life, all the while drinking, and it was amazing and fascinating. The more time passed, the more I was sure we were gonna be long time friends, and it filled me with an indescriptible sense of bliss.

- If you’ll excuse me ladies, I have to go to the bathroom, could any of you show me the way ?

Mandy got up to accompany him to the hallway where the public toilets were, and I took the opportunity to clean the mess we made on the kitchen, putting beer cans in a plastic bag and carrying it outside, with the rest of the dorms' trash. Living in the dorms wasn't exactly what you'd call quiet, since everybody invited everybody to stay for the night, have a movie, sex, or booze. What was great, on the other hand, was all the freedom we had. We were all 18 or above, so the school let us be, not being bothered by boys and girls mixing, or what we did in here, only sending a supervisor once in a while to check for any drugs or broken stuff. In times like these... we all were in trouble. Like a shitload of trouble. It happened a few times, of course, but most of it we behaved, only throwing some parties once in a while.

I put the trash in front of the building, then got back inside, gradually hearing their loud voices giggling maniacally the more stairs I climbed. They probably had way more drinks than necessary and didn't even bother closing the door to our room, voices so heavy I could hear them clearly one floor below.

- Come on, you're telling me you girls are single ? Can't believe it.

- Do you really think we have time ?, replied Mandy incredulously. Besides, she's more into  long-haired, most-of-the-time-disconnected-from-reality brunettes.

Okay. This wasn't smelling good. I had a really bad feeling about this conversation. I didn't want to believe it, but deep down I just knew where this was going. Adrenaline rushed through me when I heard Josh's confused voice so out of it he didn't understand why Mandy was being so precise, and it was even worse when I couldn't hear them at all. My shaky legs ran, leading up the stairs, nearly tripping over at the last step and turning right to enter the dorm, not even taking the time to close the already ajar door behind me. They weren't in the kitchen. Why weren't they in the kitchen ? I heard noises and a low admirative whistle in the other room, where our shared bedroom was. Oh no, no no no no no no.

- Mama you've got some real talent, said Josh while glaring at something.

Lump in my throat, I took a step forward to see what he was intently staring at, only to discover a huge painted canvas of Jake's face. My heart skipped a beat, my eyes went wide. Mouth agape, I could feel all the color leaving my face, only able to stay frozen in place, watching our guest trace the outlines of his brother's long hair on the canvas with his fingers, admiring every bump of paint, every detail of the portrait I made. Never have I been so ashamed in this moment. All I wanted was to disappear, to go far, far away. There was no way he couldn't recognize his own twin. My brain, in a last attempt to save my dignity, did the only logical think it could think of at the moment. Lie.

- Why, thank you sir, it was a lot of work. Wasn't too pleased about forgetting all my magazine pictures at home, I had to use what was left. Unfortunately, a selfie of Jake. We should avoid telling him, by the way, he'll get too cocky.

It physically hurt, lying like that. First because I was keeping this secret from Josh, and second because it wasn't true. Jake would never be my last choice, ever. And speaking foolishly about him even if he wasn't here made me feel bad. It was bullshit. It wasn't a lot of work, and I didn't have a picture to look at. All of this, I painted it using my memory, only closing my eyes and remembering the glimpses I captured of him, relishing the memories... But even if it felt wrong to lie, I just couldn't tell him the truth. It was fucking creepy, he'd probably freak out or worse, tell Jake about it. Mandy must've realized her mistake because she went very silent and didn't dare contradict me when I gave Josh that false explanation. With a bit of luck, Josh won't even remember it tomorrow.

[rorynne]

Time Lost (Rewrite) Ch 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Summary: An accident during a mission sends you back in time to the second world war. There you enlist the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.

Warnings: Boys being Dumb, otherwise nothing big that i can think of

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: This is a rewrite of an OC fic that I have been writing and been wanting to turn into a reader Fic. I'm unsure if I will be continuing the OC fic currently, I may just transfer it completely to my reader Fic. Currently 6 chapters are up of the OC fic, and I shall be posting a rewritten chapter every few days on here.

Masterlist

Prologue Ch 1 Ch 2

You flipped through the dossiers for the hundredth time that morning alone. The team, actually, wasn't all that bad. You had seen Falsworth in action just last year, no doubt he already had the majority of this training. There was a Harvard graduate, fluent in three languages, you wondered if he would be willing to learn a fourth. Next, a member of the resistance with an expertise in explosives. After that, an army ranger able to speak Japanese, and a man that, quite frankly, looked like he was trying to impersonate Teddy Roosevelt. All in all, they weren't nearly as bad as you had been expecting, and from first encounters, they all seemed enjoyable as well.

You paused when you flipped to Bucky’s dossier. The black and white photo really didn't do him justice. Not that the photo was bad, just that it really couldn't quite capture his eyes or his smile for that matter. Reading his dossier was like reading his exhibit in the Smithsonian, all cold facts and information that failed to perfectly reflect the man you had met just two days ago. It felt so surreal, knowing someone who was so full of life and knowing that they were going to die. You thought back to the exhibit, clearly, he wasn't supposed to die in Azzano, you thought that had sounded wrong. But for the life of you, you couldn't quite recall how he was supposed to die, just vaguely something about a train. You wondered if there was a way to prevent it.

If you even could.  Any time you tried to prevent anything, it never worked. Either way, you needed to stop worrying about him. As charming as he was, you had a job to do, a home to get back to.  And you weren't about to let some pretty eyes distract you. Especially, when those eyes belonged to someone from the god damned ‘40s.

A tug on your hair pulled you from your thoughts, making you jump. You looked back to see Bucky in the back of the Jeep you were waiting in, a boyish grin plastered on his face, and Steve rolling his eyes next to him. “Really Barnes? Pulling on girls' hair? What are you, ten?”

“Can’t argue with methods that work Doll.” He beamed, “We’ve been tryin’ to get your attention a few minutes now. And I thought I was Sergeant Barnes.”

“Last I checked, ten-year-olds don't get to be sergeants.” You said with a teasing look.

“Shoulda told him that when he enlisted,” Steve said with a smile, elbowing Bucky in the side.

You furrowed your brow, “Enlisted?” Bucky frowned, giving a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “I’m not used to working with men who willingly enlisted.” You quickly lied. Clearly, Steve had no idea Bucky was drafted, and that was not something you were about to reveal yourself. “Are you and your men ready to go?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Steve nodded, glancing behind his shoulder and then at Bucky, “We’re all present and accounted for.”

You smiled and nodded to the driver, “You heard the man. Shouldn't need me to tell you to get this show on the road.” The soldier grunted, and the Jeep moved forward with a jolt. “The camp is about half an hour out, but a warm meal should be waiting for everyone when we get there.”

“Sounds great,” Steve said, “Any idea on what this training will entail?”

“Nope,” You popped the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Haven't been planning it out all weekend of anything.” You looked back to see Steve slightly flushed. Smiling, you shifted in your seat to talk to them easier, “I’ve got what Phillips wants you to know, I’ve got what I know you guys need to know to survive alone in Germany, and then I’ve got whatever the hell it is Stark has cooked up for your ace team. I figure if you boys learn one or two things each during the next few weeks, were golden.”

“One or two things each?” Steve questioned, “Don't you think you're setting the bar low?”

You shook your head, “Absolutely not. This training facility is for training spies and saboteurs, people that need to be able to survive in a warzone completely and totally alone. Most of the recruits won't even make it the first two weeks. If I held your team to the same standard, over half of them would fail. It’s nothing wrong with them, the training is just that strict and we don’t have time to mess around. Hell, I would have failed it if I didn’t cheat a little.”

Bucky laughed, “You sure you should be telling us that Doll?”

“What are they going to do?” You asked, “Fire me? As much as Phillips hates me, he knows he can’t afford to fire me. It's a very interesting sense of job security.”

“I’m sure Col. Phillips doesn’t hate you,” Steve said, sounding entirely unsure himself. Peggy, no doubt, told him about the countless little squabbles you had gotten into with Col. Phillips.

“The entire reason I was assigned to train you is because Phillips thinks it will keep me out of his hair.” You said, looking out the jeep to the frostbitten countryside. You had no doubt Phillips didn't mind the idea of you freezing your ass off in the middle of winter either, just as long as he didn't have to deal with you.

“Speaking of trains,” Bucky spoke up, “I thought you said you were going to meet us on the trains, not picking us up from it.”

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “I was. Then I got tired of waiting and took the last train out on Friday. I don't like staying in one place long.”

“We were barely in London for a few days Doll.” His flirtatious smile made you bite back a smile of your own.

“What exactly is this ‘Doll’ nonsense?” You asked, locking eyes with Bucky. “Last I checked I wasn’t a doll.”

“You’re as pretty as one though,” He winked and your heart skipped. How someone could possibly be so damn charming, you had no idea.

“Wow.” You said, your lips finally curling upwards. “Bet you break a lot of hearts with that one.”

His face went stony as if you had accused him of something serious. “Never intentionally. I would never break a dame’s heart if I could help it.”

“You better be careful then,” You said softly, “Flirting like that is liable to break more than a few.” Something about how he said it, how earnest his voice sounded, made you want to believe him. However, you had no doubt in your mind that he had unintentionally broken many hearts.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He said, seriousness fading only barely. He was a good man, you decided, better than most. Which only made his fate rest even more uneasily in your mind. He didn’t deserve to die. You barely knew him and still felt with all your heart that you wanted to save him.

The rest of the ride to the camp was peacefully quiet, save for a few quips back and forth between Steve and Bucky. And, as promised, dinner awaited all of them when they arrived. The length of the trip took the majority of the day, leaving the men the evening to settle in. Tomorrow would be the start of their training, and the start of a very long two months.

The next few days proved to be interesting. The commandoes quickly fell into a daily routine, in the mornings would be general physical training and combat training, mainly trying the group trying to learn how the hell to fight with a shield. The afternoons after lunch would be far more varying, the subject would change daily, covering a wide variety of topics, from picking locks to explosives and demolition. Bucky found the routine to be strangely comforting as if he were back in basic and not training to be some elite force for Captain America. Of course, his basic training never had a pretty woman supervising over it.

It was easy for Bucky to grow fond of you in the week that he had known you thus far. Fiery and sassy, You were quick to argue with just about everyone if you felt so inclined. Frankly, you reminded him of Steve in a lot of ways. Just being around you had the ability to put Bucky in a good mood. Which was exactly why he was grinning like an idiot as he and Steve trekked down to the explosives range after lunch.

You were carrying crates from a truck with Dernier as the two men approached, early for training by at least fifteen minutes. As you lifted a particularly large crate Bucky stepped in to take it from you. “I can carry it, Sergeant.” You said, refusing to give over the crate.

He gave you a cocky smile, “Sorry doll, but if my Ma found out I didn’t help a woman carry something so heavy, she’d have my hide.” You looked at him for a moment, considering his argument, before smiling and handing over the crate.

“Take it to the pile by the tables, you too Steve,” You ordered, nodding at steve who was grabbing a crate of his own. “Once you’re there, help Jacques unpack them onto the tables.” The men nodded and followed your direction, carrying the crates to the tables. They were hardly halfway there when you passed them with an even larger crate, a devilish smirk on your face. “Come on boys, at least try to keep up!”

The men stopped in their tracks, bewildered. Steve was the first to crack, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his crate. “Careful punk,” Bucky warned. “Don’t need Captain America blowing up on us.”

“I was wondering why she gave in so easy,” Steve said, regaining his composure and continuing toward the tables where you and Dernier were now unpacking various explosive chemicals.

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, shoulda really expected something like that, huh?” He said, setting his crate next to Steve’s. Bucky looked up at you as he opened up the box, barely paying attention to what he was doing. You really was something, just about everything you did somehow managed to play on Bucky’s mind on repeat even hours after it had happened. After all the things Bucky had seen and experienced, your presence was almost ethereal, too good to be true. “She’s funny like that, ain't she. Most gals would have loved to have someone helping them.”

“Her and Peggy are cut from the same cloth,” Steve said, setting a box of TNT onto the table.

Bucky pulled wires and fuses from his crate, tearing his attention away from you. “You think so?” Bucky really didn't know Peggy well, besides when she completely rejected him at the bar, but Steve seemed head over heels for you. Bucky was pretty sure that he’d heard more about Peggy in the last few days than he had about anyone else coming from Steve.

“I don’t think she would be friends with anyone who wasn’t,” Steve said, leaning against the table. “You seem to like her though.” Bucky rolled his eyes; as if that wasn’t the most obvious statement in the world. He had been openly flirting with you since you met. Unfortunately, despite your flirting back, you seemed perfectly content keeping Bucky at a distance.

“Steve!” you called from a different table. “Toss me a bundle of TNT please.” Steve obliged, tossing the bundle with an underhand throw directly into your arms. “Thanks!” You said with a smile and a nod before turning back to Dernier.

“Why is it you get to be Steve and I’m still ‘Sergeant Barnes’?” Bucky complained. “I’m the only one she calls by rank and last name.”

Steve shrugged, “She calls Col. Phillips by rank and last name.” he said, looking over one of the TNT bundles.

“Steve,” Bucky crossed his arms, “She hates Col. Phillips.”

Steve chuckled, “I’m pretty sure she’s doing it to fuck with you, Buck. If its really bothering you, ask her to stop.” He tossed the bundle in his hand into the air, catching it again with ease. “How big do you think the explosion would be if we blew up a whole box of these?”

Bucky stared at his friend, knowing exactly what was going through his head. A boyish smile grew on Bucky’s face “You think it’ll be anything like that Fourth of July when we were teenagers?” He asked, taking the last box of TNT from the crate.

“I was thinking more along the lines of Loony Toons.” Steve said, “Big crater in the grounds, burn marks everywhere.”

Bucky laughed, he could only imagine it. Bucky took the bundle from Steve’s hands. “Only one way to find out right? I bet you a dollar it’s like the fireworks. These things are basically giant firecrackers right?” He said, taking the box and bundle out away from the tables until he was sure it was safe. After setting the box down, he lit the bundle with his lighter and threw it into the box, before backing away to what he thought was a safe distance.

Bucky glanced back at Steve as the TNT went off. He didn't have a chance to react as the force of the blast sent him flying backward. His ears rang as he blinked away the shock. He didn't feel hurt, so that was a good sign, but damn, if he didn't expect that.

“Bucky?! Holy shit are you okay?” A frantic voice asked. Still dazed, he turned his head to see you and Steve next to him. “You could have died!” You fretted over him, checking for injuries. “I thought you would have been the responsible one after Steve tried to walk to Austria. Jesus Christ. But no, here you are, almost blowing yourself up.”

“I am the responsible one.” He argued. Steve scoffed and shook his head, but didn’t try to deny it, knowing he would be proven wrong. Bucky blinked a few more times while brushing dust out of his hair until the realization struck him. “Since when do you call me Bucky?”

You scowled, “You almost got yourself killed and you're seriously focusing on what name I call you?”

Bucky smirked, “What can I say Doll, I was expecting the blast.”

You groaned, “Next time Barnes, run twice the distance you think you need to.” You rubbed your face and sighed. “What the hell were you even thinking?”

“That that punk was gonna do it if I didn’t,” He said, gesturing to Steve. You stared at Steve, who returned your inspection with a sheepish smile as if to say that Bucky was completely right. “That had a hell of a lot more kick than the fireworks. That’s for sure.”

You rolled your eyes, “We were already going to blow it up!” You tried to continue to scold, but Bucky could see the corners of your lips twitching upwards. “Seriously, I actually will get fired if I let Captain America die on my watch.”

Bucky stood up and pulled a dollar bill from his pocket, handing it to Steve. “Trust me Doll, as long as I’m alive, I’m gonna make sure Steve is too.”

Your face clouded over, “I don’t want you to die either.” You said with a level of earnestness that threw Bucky off.

“I ain’t gonna die on ya either.” He reassured, but you didn't seem to be convinced.

You took a deep breath, “Come on, the others are almost here.” You said, pointing at the three men coming down the hill. “We’ve gotta teach you all how to blow shit up without blowing yourself up in the process.”

Taglist (If you want to be added, ask. if you don’t see your name here and you did ask, I probably tagged you in the OC version, or think you have already read up to this point in the OC story. You will still be tagged when theres a true new part) :

@henderwhore4life  

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

Don’t Kid Yourself: Chapter 9 (FINAL CHAPTER) - It was Always About Love

Title: It was Always About Love 

Pairing: Erasermic – Shouta Aizawa|Eraserhead/Hizashi Yamada|Present Mic

Rating: T

Word count: 11k+

Notes: Where do I even start? This was the first multi-chapter fic I’ve ever written. Months and months ago, I wrote a small little drabble that was essentially the beginning of chapter 1 and I posted it on Tumblr and a few people liked it. It was supposed to be some random one shot thing that died there, but the reaction that post got encouraged me to keep going. I had, honestly, no idea what this story was going to be until around chapter 4, and then I realized it was going to be important. This fic was, and probably will always be, my baby. I am so happy and thankful to have been able to share it with all of you. I cannot express how much I love every person who read, shared, commented, or felt anything about this story. I hope that you take something from this. I hope a piece of this story stays with you and warms you on bad days. While there was a lot of angst and suffering, this was always about love and perseverance and forgiveness. 

Other Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

Please consider leaving me a tip on my Ko-fi here

Read it on Ao3 here

Chapter 9: It was Always about Love

Love is not easy.

You do not love people easily.

You love them hard.

You love them with everything you’ve got.

You love them through all the things that make you say, shit why am I with you?

So you can love them for all the things that make you say, this is why I’m with you.

Love is not easy.

Despite this, Aizawa learns, it’s worth it.

---

When Yamada’s lease is up later that year, they make the decision to split the cost and move in together. Yamada requests they get an actual house, not an apartment, and that it be at least a two bedroom, more than one bathroom, have a kitchen with an island, and enough space to entertain. Aizawa thinks they just need the necessities, and why have a second bathroom if there are only two of them? If Yamada likes things to be so neat and tidy, who cares if people walk through their bedroom to get to the toilet?

Yamada pouts and raises an eyebrow that screams, are you serious, without having to say a single word at all.

Aizawa relents, letting the blond take control of the house hunt, with his only requirement being it isn’t too expensive and they’re allowed cats. He also mentions that he’d like some outside space, whether that’s a balcony, deck, or a small yard.

It would be nice, he thinks, to have a place to lay in the sun with Yamada, or grow a few vegetables.

Yamada had always cared so much more about the flow of a room and color schemes and fabrics than Aizawa ever had. His apartment had the bare minimum, while Yamada’s had something to interest every person who walked through his door.

It’s okay. Aizawa knows it won’t ever be cluttered, the other man a bit of a neat freak, and that’s all he really needs from his home: a clean living space, a good neighborhood, a reasonable distance from work, his cat, and his partner.

Yamada can fill the bookcases with random things, and place strange sculptures on the shelves, so long as he comes home every night and climbs into bed beside Aizawa, it doesn’t matter.

He’ll be happy.

---

The staff room is almost perfectly quiet, save for the occasional paper rustle, clacking of computer keys, or creak of someone leaning back in their chair. That is, until the door slides open with one furious push, rattling as it settles in its track, and Yamada enters, waving a packet in one hand, and shouting, “I did it! I found it!”

Half the people in the room are staring at Yamada as he tugs the door closed, while the other half is shooting Aizawa looks. They’d been dating for several months now, but long before Hizashi ever recognized his feelings for Aizawa, their colleagues had always depended on the erasure hero to calm the blond when he got a bit too excited.

Aizawa quickly saves the document he’d been working on and prepares to be swept up in whatever Hizashi had “found.”

The voice hero runs around the desks and throws himself into his chair beside Aizawa, letting it roll freely with the momentum, as it lightly smacks into the side of Aizawa’s chair. He raises an eyebrow at Yamada.

“I found it,” the other man says.

“What did you find?”

Yamada slams the packet he’d been holding on top of Aizawa’s desk.

“Our home,” Yamada says, grinning.

Aizawa’s eyes widen. Yamada and he had gone on a number of open house visits the past few weeks. Eventually, Aizawa had lost interest, and given Yamada permission to scout on his own, promising that he’d take a look at any space the blond thought might be a good fit for them, trusting Yamada’s taste.

Apparently, Yamada hadn’t just found a few suitable options to pick from.

The blond lifts his hand up off the printout of the house listing, saying, “We can go check it out after class.”

Our home, Aizawa thinks, looking down at the pictures. He picks up the packet and starts flipping through, looking at the specs for the house. It seemed good on paper, but they all had. That hadn’t stopped either of them from finding a problem with any of the previous locations. As much as Aizawa had said he didn’t care where they lived, he’d found himself becoming critical as he watched Yamada, hmmm, and hum as he opened cabinets in a kitchen. If the blond’s face wasn’t lighting up as he ran his fingers over a counter top, Aizawa found himself thinking, this place is terrible.

It’s not good enough.

Aizawa turns his head to look at Yamada, who is still smiling widely and bouncing his leg on the floor.

“Okay, let’s check it out,” Aizawa agrees.

---

Yamada pulls up on the corner of the short driveway, parking on the curb by a black mailbox. The other man quickly hops out of the car, running around the back, as Aizawa gets out slower. The blond is already halfway up the driveway, holding his hands out toward the house like he’s presenting the opening act of a talent show.

Aizawa shoots him a smile before turning his attention back to the house. It’s a light gray colored one story, with a dark, navy blue door, and white trim around the windows. The garage is a one car, attached to the house, with a white door. The roof is also a dark, almost black blue. It has a few windows in the front of the house, but not many. Aizawa wonders if this is because of the one place they’d visited with large, bay windows facing the street, and how it had made both Yamada and he instantly uncomfortable. As professional heroes, privacy was important to them.

He follows Yamada up the slate walkway toward the front entrance. There’s a small overhang and white porch. It’s enough for maybe one chair and a potted plant, but certainly not enough space for both of them to comfortably sit outside. So far, Aizawa is wondering why Yamada would be so enthusiastic about a house with a rather dark color scheme and a small entrance.

That is, until Yamada unlocks the door and pushes it open, stepping aside to allow Aizawa to enter first.

There’s a small genkan, stepping up into a hallway with light wood floors. There’s a wide opening to the left, which Aizawa can already see leads to the kitchen. Yamada and he had wanted a somewhat open floor plan, so he’s pretty sure there’s probably a living room beyond the kitchen. The hallway has some closed doors, probably bathrooms and bedrooms, or possibly a study. There’s a window at the end of the hall, but from this far away he can’t see clearly what’s outside it.

Yamada takes his hand and guides him through the opening to the kitchen. It’s got a charcoal tiled floor, some sleek, modern looking sleet colored cabinets, white, shiny countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a small island. Yamada leans up against the counter by the sink and crosses his arms, beaming at Aizawa.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Looks nice,” Aizawa says, opening a cabinet.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of space for dishes and things,” Yamada says. “Plus, we got an island!”

He’s already talking like we own the place, Aizawa smiles to himself as he shuts the door. Yamada had clearly already fallen in love with the place. Aizawa pictures the other man chopping up food on the island, or rinsing salad in the sink. He imagines pulling up stools and eating simple breakfasts together as light streams in from the window above the sink.

“I like the white and grey,” Aizawa says, before making his way around the island to walk into the living room.

The family who staged it had the couch back facing the kitchen to create some division between the rooms. There’s a reset alcove in the wall that he hadn’t noticed, where a table and bench seats with cushions are tucked away, windows lining the space above the seats and table. He’d wondered what the little bit of house sticking out of the side had been for when standing outside. Aizawa likes their use of space. He can imagine lining up plants in the windowsills, maybe herbs and small vegetables they could use for cooking. Continuing past the alcove, he steps around the couch into the living room. It’s decently sized, with a plush, tan carpet. He walks around the space a bit.

“Shouta!” Yamada calls him, and Aizawa turns around from where he’d been looking at a staged photo of a family sitting on a bookshelf. The blond is standing by some large curtains. “This is the best part.”

Yamada pulls the curtains back to reveal a huge sliding glass door. The wide windows reach from floor to ceiling and let in a remarkable amount of light. Aizawa’s eyes widen a bit as he looks down at where the sunlight is casting a large square on the floor, right by where the sellers had placed their kotatsu. He thinks about Yamada and he curled up on pillows, lying in the sun.

He’s pulled out of the fantasy by the sound of the door sliding open. He turns to see Yamada walking out onto a small wooden deck. Aizawa follows slowly behind, walking out onto the platform just as Yamada is taking the single step down onto the grass.

It’s not a large yard by any means.

It’s quite small, with a light wooden fence separating it from the neighbors. It has a short, blue shed that probably can’t fit more than a few shovels. There is a little garden in the back, tucked into the corner, where the owners seem to have been growing some sort of vegetables. It’s got a couple trees lining the edge of the fence, and some weeds poking out from under the deck.

It’s not a big yard, but Aizawa’s eyes aren’t really focused on it.

Yamada stands in the center of the lawn, his hands hanging loose at his sides, his shoulders relaxed, and his long hair swaying a bit against his back with the gentle breeze. Yamada’s head is tilted, and he’s staring up at the sky, and in that moment, Aizawa sees a different man.

He seems a man with long silver hair and creases in the corners of his eyes, with a few more scars littering his skin, but deep laugh lines framing his mouth. He sees a golden ring stealing the summer sun as it glistens on the man’s left hand.

Yamada turns around, his mouth moving, but all Aizawa sees is the blond older, married, retired, with a large garden full of flowers and tomatoes and cabbage, with an old, once loved, but long since neglected swing tied to the limb of one of the trees, drifting back and forth in the wind.

He doesn’t hear what Yamada is saying, but he knows he’s asking a question. He swallows, his throat feeling a little tight.

They’d only been dating for half a year and here he was picturing himself married to the other man, having kids with the other man. Some part of Aizawa thinks he should probably feel weird about that, think that maybe they’re moving too fast, but most of him thinks it doesn’t matter at all. He’d known Yamada for half his life.

From where he was standing, they were taking things slow.

“Shouta?” Yamada asks, approaching him. “Hey, you there?”

Aizawa nods slowly.

“I asked what you thought about it,” Yamada says. “I know it’s not a big yard, but I think it’s enough space for us, don’t you?”

Aizawa nods again.

Yamada frowns.

“You don’t like it?”

Aizawa shakes his head, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes.

“No, Hizashi,” he says. “I really love it. I really, really love it.”

Aizawa pulls his hands away from his face and reaches out to pull Yamada close, cupping his cheek with his hand and bringing him into a kiss. Yamada happily obliges, kissing back, lifting his arms around Aizawa’s shoulders. When they finish and pull apart from one another, the blond laughs.

“You mean it?” he asks. “Do you think you could picture us in this house together?”

Aizawa thinks, if you only knew.

“Yes,” Aizawa says, kissing Yamada again. “I can. I want to live here, Hizashi. I want to make this place our home. You were right. This is the one.”

Yamada’s smile is breathtaking.

“You haven’t even seen the bedrooms and you’re already sold!” Yamada laughs, taking his hand to pull him back inside.

Aizawa thinks, after fifteen years of this, he’d have gotten used to it by now.

That’s the thing about love, though, it can always grow.

---

In retrospect, they should have ordered the new bed set before they closed on the house. Aizawa’s old bed was too small to comfortably fit both of them, and according to Yamada, had ‘an indentation matched perfectly to Aizawa’s body.’ Yamada’s bed was even smaller, impulse bought when he needed something to sleep on after moving out of Imai’s apartment.

Aizawa was used to sleeping on couches and in his sleeping bag, but even he had to admit he was getting sick of waiting around for a mattress to arrive. The manufacturer, warehouse, and deliverers had all made the whole ordeal a headache at one point or another. Two weeks was too long to swap back and forth sleeping on the couch from Yamada’s apartment or on the floor every other night. They’d started the first night trying to cram both their bodies on it together, but that hadn’t lasted more than a few hours, when Yamada jerked in his sleep and stabbed Aizawa in the stomach with his pointy elbow.

Now, finally, Aizawa stands against the wall of their bedroom, watching Yamada direct the delivery team where they want the bed to be, as if it wasn’t already obvious by all the surrounding furniture the blond had set up in the room. The two nightstands were a pretty big giveaway. People didn’t traditionally leave giant gaps between two tiny tables in the middle of a room.

When they’ve got the frame down and are assembling it, Yamada walks over to him, huffing a bit as he runs his hand through his hair.

“How is it that the bed is here and they’re still trying to ruin me?” Yamada whispers, leanings against the wall next to Aizawa. He rests his head on Aizawa’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Aizawa asks, tilting his head over to lie atop the blond’s.

“They thought it wouldn’t fit where we wanted it,” Yamada explains. “I measured the space like four times.”

Aizawa snorts.

“They don’t know you’re a freak about this stuff,” Aizawa jokes, nudging Yamada’s side. “Give them the benefit of the doubt. You can tell them ‘I told you so’ when they’re done.”

“I guess so.”

“Come on, let’s leave them to their work,” Aizawa says, pushing off the wall and taking Yamada’s hand. He pulls him along out of the bedroom and away from the stress of the delivery team shouting instructions back and forth to each other. They walk out of the room just as someone is saying “Watch the wall!” and Aizawa tightens his grip as he feels Yamada pull back.

“It’s going to be fine,” Aizawa says, tugging Yamada into the hall.

“We just painted that…”

“We can repaint, it’s fine. The headboard will cover anything,” Aizawa says, leading Yamada into the kitchen. He pulls the other man into his chest and holds him there for a few minutes, rubbing his hand up and down Yamada’s tense back. “It’s fine, stop stressing.”

Yamada takes a deep breath and smiles.

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“We get to sleep in a bed tonight, that’s something to look forward to.”

“Or we might not,” Yamada says.

Aizawa pulls back a bit, raises an eyebrow.

“Might not?” Aizawa asks. “You want to sleep on the floor again?”

Yamada gives him a sly smile, tilting his chin down to look at Aizawa from under his lashes.

“I’m just saying there might not be too much sleeping happening on that bed,” Yamada winks at him and Aizawa snorts, pushing the other man away lightly.

“Right, okay, says the man who threw a fit two days ago when we were making out on the couch because his back hurt.”

“You were rough…” Yamada pouts.

“I laid you down on a cushion, Hizashi.”

“It’s a hard cushion.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Aizawa rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

Yamada breaks his pout to laugh and wrap his arms back around Aizawa’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“You know, when I picked out that couch I was really happy with it, but now I kind of hate it.”

“We are not getting a new couch,” Aizawa warns.

“Boooo,” Yamada whines and drops his hands down from Aizawa’s shoulders.

Aizawa backs up to lean against the island, watching as Yamada opens the cupboard above their stove to pick out some tea. The blond starts boiling some water and Aizawa keeps thinking how if sleeping on the floor for two weeks is the worst thing that’s happened to him in that same length of time, he can’t really complain too much.

“Sencha or Oolong?” Yamada asks, holding out the two containers. Aizawa reaches out to tap the tin of Oolong tea.

“Should we offer some to the workers?” Yamada asks, turning around to grab two mugs.

“That depends, how fast do you want this bed?”

Yamada sticks out his tongue from over his shoulder.

“Oh shush, it can’t be too much longer now…”

It is.

It takes them three hours to put the bed together, one of the workers having to run out halfway through because they’d forgotten some part of the headboard.

It’s alright, though, because by the time they’re done, Aizawa is feeling an awful lot like he could use a bed to nap on. While Yamada kindly pays the delivery and build teams, chit chatting a bit in the entranceway down the hall, Aizawa lies down on their new bed and shuts his eyes. He listens to the sound of Yamada’s voice and only startles a little bit when he feels the familiar dip of the bed signaling his cat, Mai, has just decided to join him.

The door shuts and latches and Aizawa hears feet padding down the hall. He’s expecting the more pronounced shift in the mattress that comes with Yamada climbing onto the bed. He opens his eyes just as the blond is lying down on the other side of where Mai has stationed herself by Aizawa’s chest. Yamada props his head up on his hand and begins slowly petting the cat from head to tail in long, methodical strokes. It only takes a few seconds before she starts purring away. Aizawa smiles at the two of them, his gaze drifting down. He feels his eyelids getting heavy.

“Hey Shouta,” Yamada says. His voice sounds a bit timid, and Aizawa is surprised, when he looks up from where he’d been watching Yamada’s fingers coast through Mai’s fur, to see that Yamada is nibbling at the corner of his lip.

“Yeah?” Aizawa asks, the sleepy feeling that had been seeping into his body quickly dissipating. He watches Yamada’s face, but the other man keeps his eyes focused on Mai.

“Remember when I was dating Haru and I wanted to get a cat, and I invited you to come with me, but you said that was something I should have done with him?” Yamada asks quickly, rambling a bit.

Oh.

He wanted a cat.

Aizawa isn’t sure why the other man would ever be concerned about asking Aizawa about getting cat, but he reaches out his hand to place it atop where Yamada’s is still resting on Mai’s back. He rubs the side of Yamada’s hand with his thumb encouragingly.

“Yeah,” Aizawa says.

Yamada looks to the side once, and then finally glances up to meet Aizawa’s gaze.

“Do you think Mai might like a friend?”

“I think she would love a friend, Hizashi.”

The blond’s face erupts into a grin and he laughs a bit, letting out a big breath of air in the process.

“Why did you think I’d say no?” Aizawa asks, stroking Yamada’s hand again.

Yamada sighs, and for one second Aizawa thinks things are about to take a turn, but Yamada gives him a soft, bashful smile instead.

“I don’t know,” Yamada laughs. “I guess...it just reminded me of when we weren’t happy.”

When we weren’t happy…

“But we are now,” Yamada quickly says, reaching across Mai to stroke Aizawa’s cheek with his thumb. “So it’s okay. I can get a cat. No, we can get a cat. That’s what you do when you have someone you love, right? You share.”

“I think most people share things that aren’t alive, but yes, I get what you’re saying,” Aizawa chuckles.

He’d remembered clearly thinking that it was odd for Yamada to have come to him about wanting a cat when he’d been seemingly happily living with and loving another man. He’d thought that was something you did with a partner.

It’s not just your cat when you live with someone else. It’s both of yours cat.

Maybe that had been a sign, back then, that Yamada’s and Imai’s relationship was not the fairytale he’d thought it was. Yamada hadn’t wanted to share a pet with him. Even if Yamada hadn’t realized it, some part of his subconscious had.

He didn’t have faith that they’d last. You don’t buy a pet with someone if you think you’re going to have to decide who gets it in the break up.

Aizawa places his hand atop where Yamada’s is touching his cheek.

“For the record,” Aizawa says. “Mai is your cat now too.”

Yamada’s eyes widen.

“What? Really?” he asks, excitedly.

“Yeah, but since she’s slept on you, you also belong to her. I don’t make the rules.”

Yamada drops his head down onto the pillow and laughs.

It sounds relieved.

It sounds giddy and happy the way it did when Aizawa had agreed to move in together.

As if Yamada is still somehow unsure that it’s all real, that he’s doing this right, that this time it’s for real.

Aizawa lays his head down on the pillow as well, reaching out to scratch Mai under her chin. In that moment, he promises to make sure Yamada doesn’t have to hesitate before asking for something ever again.

A house.

A pet.

Aizawa knows what the next big question is, and he knows it won’t be for a long time, but he hopes it comes out confident and strong, without any doubts.

So he can answer that way as well.

---

Yamada watches from across the room as Aizawa is handed a small, calico kitten from one of the adoption staff. It immediately nuzzles into his neck, its little claws latching onto the fabric of his shirt. He smiles at the scene, sighing lightly as he scans the room.

Something rubs up against his ankle and he looks down to see a tuxedo cat walking around in a figure eight pattern beneath him. The cat’s head butts into his calf and Yamada carefully crouches down to one knee to reach it. He sticks his hand out in the air and lets the cat sniff at him before going in to pet its head.

“That’s Habiki,” a woman says from above him. Yamada looks up and nods.

“How old is it?” Yamada asks, the cat ducking down beneath his hand when he goes to pull it back, demanding more pets. Yamada happily complies, stroking over its head and back, then scratching under its chin. His eyes widen when he feels the small vibration there, the cat purring.

“We can’t be too sure, but we’re guessing he’s around a year and a half to two years,” she says. “He’s very friendly for a street cat.”

“I’ll say,” Yamada laughs. He shifts to sit on the floor in a cross-legged position and Habiki tentatively climbs into his lap and curls up. Yamada continues running his hand through his black and white fur.

“Do you want me to get his file? I can tell you more about him,” the woman says. Yamada looks up at her again and she’s holding a clipboard to her chest, smiling down at him. “It looks like you two are getting along pretty well.”

Yamada nods, laughing again, not really sure what to do with his mouth other than smile and giggle. He felt giddy, surrounded by so many cute cats and happy people rescuing pets.

“I would like that, thank you,” he says.

As she’s about to turn around he calls out to her, “Wait!”

She pauses, surprised at his sudden yell.

“Sorry, sorry,” Yamada says, bashfully, lowering his voice. “Can you tell that man, with the long dark hair, to come over here?” Yamada points at Aizawa as he speaks and the woman nods.

“Sure, will do!”

He looks back down to the cat in his lap, still petting his back. Yamada lets out an “Awww” when Habiki lifts up his little white paw and places it gently atop where Yamada’s other hand is resting on his leg.

“You’re the cutest thing in the whole world,” Yamada says softly to the cat.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I think I could name something cuter,” Aizawa says from above him.

Yamada snorts, looking up to meet Aizawa’s gaze. The other man is standing with his hand on his hip, a small, half-smile on his face. Yamada pats the floor next to him and Aizawa sits down.

“His name is Habiki and he’s around two years old,” Yamada explains. Aizawa nods, reaching to offer his hand to the cat the same way Yamada had a few minutes ago. Habiki bumps his nose against Aizawa’s pointer finger and, taking that as acceptance, Aizawa scratches his chin and pats his head.

“He’s cute,” Aizawa says. “Do you like him?”

Yamada shrugs. He hadn’t really looked at any of the other cats. There was a piece of him that said he should look around more, not fall in love with the first cat he sees. As his gaze shifts around the room, though, his eyes land back on Aizawa’s slowly growing smile, leant over his lap, as he plays with Habiki’s paw.

Browsing around hadn’t proved to be much of a help in the past.

Yamada thinks about the way his stomach had flipped the first time he’d made Aizawa laugh in high school.

He’d made the mistake of not going with his gut before.

Yamada moves his hand off his thigh to find the one Aizawa isn’t petting the cat with, intertwining their fingers. The erasure hero spares him a quick glance before focusing back on Habiki.

“Yeah,” Yamada says. “I like him.”

“You want to adopt him?”

Yamada nods, smiling down at Habiki as he rolls onto his back, batting at Yamada’s fingers with his paws.

“Great, me too,” Aizawa says.

---

“Calm down, you’re jostling the carrier,” Aizawa warns him with a hand on his knee. Yamada gets his legs back under control, forcing his nervous tic to a halt so he doesn’t disturb their new cat on the drive home.

Aizawa rarely drove when he lived alone, preferring public transportation, and now that they lived together Yamada nearly always took them everywhere. When they’d walked outside of the adoption clinic, Yamada holding the carrier with Habiki up in front of his face as they headed toward the car, making little faces at the cat as he stuck his finger through the bars to pet him, Aizawa had offered to drive so Yamada could comfort the cat.

He was grateful, despite what he’d said, Yamada knew most of the reason Aizawa had suggested driving was for the blond, not the cat.

They’d been dating for so long now, but every day since he’d confessed in that park, Yamada was amazed in new ways at the subtle, small gestures Aizawa made on a daily basis. How had he not seen these things sooner?

Aizawa had always been kind to him, had always put up with his teasing and boisterousness.

This wasn’t the first time he’d told Yamada to calm down with a level voice and gentle touch. Yamada was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

He didn’t ever want there to be a last.

“Why are you nervous? You know I’ve fostered cats before. Mai isn’t territorial,” Aizawa asks, breaking Yamada out of his thoughts.

“Mmm, yeah I know.”

“So what’s wrong?”

Yamada shakes his head, shrugging. “I don’t know, I’m just worried he won’t like it? Or he’ll be scared?”

“They said he gets along well with other cats,” Aizawa assures him. “All cats hide when they’re first introduced to a new place. Don’t worry about that. We can keep him in our bedroom so he’s not overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, that sounds good!” Yamada agrees. He slips some of his fingers between the bars and Habiki rubs his face against them. “Mai will be upset she can’t sleep with us.”

“Eh, she’ll get over it.”

“So cruel, Shouta,” Yamada teases. He bends down to peer into Habiki’s crate. “I won’t ever banish you like that.”

“Banish?” Aizawa scoffs.

“Yes, you’re banishing her from the bedroom. So mean! How will she go on?”

“I don’t know, maybe I should banish someone else and she’ll have some company,” Aizawa says, smirking and raising an eyebrow at him as they come to a red light.

Yamada feigns shock, placing his hand over his heart and leaning back in his seat.

“You’d never,” he says.

“Wouldn’t I?” Aizawa can’t keep it together though, snorting quickly after he speaks and laughing as the light turns green and the car starts moving again. Yamada joins in after him, resting his head against the window as he catches his breath.

“You love me too much to do that,” Yamada says cockily.

There’s a pause, and he glances over to see Aizawa staring at the road again, a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, I do.”

---

After a few weeks, Habiki is happily settled into their home.

Yamada had gotten used to waking up facing Aizawa, Habiki curled into a little ball between their stomachs, and Mai tucked around Aizawa’s head. She usually stuck to his pillow, but on occasion, when Aizawa had shifted closer to Yamada in his sleep, he’d feel her soft purrs vibrating through their shared pillow. When there wasn’t room for Habiki between them, he’d place himself somewhere near their feet.

It was a content, warm dynamic. He was overjoyed the first night Mai was invited back into the bedroom and no hisses were exchanged.

Today, the morning sunlight came bursting through the curtains they’d neglected to close the night before, and falling on his face. He was a little confused, used to waking up laying the other direction, but realizes after a small shift that Aizawa is pressed into his back, one of his hands resting lazily on Yamada’s belly. Small snores trickle out beside his ear.

Yamada snuggles himself backwards into Aizawa’s embrace, sighing contentedly as the other man reflexively tightens his hold.  He closes his eyes and something soft nudges his arm. Cracking an eye open, he sees Habiki has moved up to join them, curling into Yamada overtop Aizawa’s hand. He reaches out to pet Habiki’s head, keeping his movements slow and fluid as to not disturb the sleeping man behind him.

Habiki lets one a tiny meow and Yamada tries to shush him, but the cat takes this as encouragement instead, crying louder now, demanding they get up and provide food.

“Biki…” Yamada sighs. “Shush.”

Aizawa’s steady breathing gets uneven as he sucks in a large breath, the kind people do right before they wake up. He lets it out against Yamada’s back and rolls over, his hand dragging through the dirty blond tufts of hair on his stomach and over his hip before plopping down on the mattress. Yamada flops over onto his back beside Aizawa.

He glances up behind Aizawa’s head and sees Mai laid out at the edge of his dark hair, not making any noise, but the way her eyes are half-lidded, so much like her owner’s, it seems an awful lot like she’s judging him. I’m better behaved.

Yamada sticks his tongue out at her, even though she does nothing more than blink at him, and shifts onto his side, tucking an arm under his head. He reaches out his other hand to play with the short dark hairs on Aizawa’s chest.

“Good morning,” Yamada sings.

“Mmmm...morning,” Aizawa grumbles out. He turns his head to kiss Yamada’s lips briefly.

“Shouta,” Yamada says, with his voice a little softer. He scoots in closer to the other man, sticking a leg out to hook around Aizawa’s calf.

“Hmm?” Aizawa hums lazily, eyes still closed. He moves his hand out from behind his head though, scooting it underneath Yamada’s body to wrap around his shoulders, bringing Yamada’s head onto his chest.

“I was thinking,” Yamada starts, twirling his finger in a circle atop Aizawa’s skin. “It might be nice to have Haru over. He could meet Habiki.”

There’s a solid beat of silence and Yamada thinks for a second Aizawa will say no. It makes sense. Aizawa had accepted that Yamada still sought friendship in Imai, and didn’t particularly seem to mind the other man now that Yamada was securely in a relationship with him, but the blond could understand wanting to keep his ex out of their house. He wouldn’t blame Aizawa for not wanting to let Imai get too close.

So he’s a little surprise when Aizawa says, “Sure,” in a voice that, while still laced with exhaustion, is rather upbeat for him.

“Really?!” Yamada asks, gasping a bit in excitement.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Yamada bites down on his lip for a second.

“I was worried you wouldn’t want Haru to visit.”

“Imai is nice. He’s your friend,” Aizawa says. He opens his eyes and looks down at Yamada. “I don’t mind that you dated. If he hadn’t talked to you, we wouldn’t be here. This isn’t weird for me, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re sure?”

“If you trust him, I trust him,” Aizawa says, shutting his eyes again. Yamada grins, pushing himself up to grab Aizawa’s chin and tilt it toward him, pressing his lips against the other man’s. When he pulls away, Aizawa’s eyes are open again, looking clearer than usual.

“Thank you, babe,” Yamada says. Aizawa rolls his eyes at the pet name, but Yamada notices the way his cheeks flush for a moment.

“You have to make me breakfast, though,” Aizawa mumbles out.

“What? I don’t remember that being part of the deal,” Yamada huffs, lightly smacking Aizawa’s shoulder. Just as he lies back down, Habiki jumps onto his stomach and Yamada lets out a gasp of surprise, whining a bit.

“You have to make him breakfast too,” Aizawa comments from beside him, reaching out to rub approvingly behind Habiki’s ears. Yamada pouts as Habiki’s eyes scrunch shut and he begins to purr.

“I see how it is, teaming up against me.”

“Only because we love you,” Aizawa says, and if Habiki somehow understood his words, the cat walks up Yamada’s chest and butts his head against the blond’s chin, cracking Yamada’s pout and forcing a laugh out of him.

“Okay, okay,” Yamada says, nudging the cat away from his face. “I’m up, food time!”

Yamada claps his hands together and pushes himself off the bed, tugging on Aizawa’s foot through the blankets as he makes his way toward the door to go start breakfast.

“No falling back asleep.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You absolutely would,” Yamada says, blowing him a kiss and walking out of their room.

He sends Imai a text to see when he can make it over while he’s preparing breakfast, and they decide it would be nice to order some dinner and make a night of hanging out. Yamada is a little nervous, as the hours tick closer to evening, not having hung out with Imai and Aizawa at the same time since before they’d broken up over a year ago.

Aizawa seems to pick up on this, lying carelessly on the bed, flipping through some tests he’s grading, as Yamada selects an outfit. He throws out a quick, “Navy blue looks good on you” before Yamada can even begin to let his anxiety dictate his wardrobe. It’s not that he really wanted to show off for Imai, but Yamada’s clothes always reflected his moods. When he’d been going through his break up, he’d worn baggy hoodies and pieces of outfits that didn’t quite go together.

Now, his life was going great.

So he wanted to look great.

He also kind of wanted Aizawa to look great, and without saying anything, the other man had tugged on a lovely cable knit black v-neck sweater and grey jeans. This was just for him, though, it had nothing to do with Imai.

Any excuse to see Aizawa dressed up was one he’d happily use.

Yamada picks out a navy blue button up and slips it on over his baby blue undershirt, allowing it to poke up out a bit at the top. When he’s done buttoning most of the shirt, he walks over to the bed, placing one knee on the mattress and leaning into Aizawa’s space.

“What do you think?” Yamada asks.

“Kaminari is going to flunk,” Aizawa says, not looking up from the test in front of him. Yamada knows he’s kidding, but it makes him bite the inside of his cheek regardless.

He brings his other leg up onto the bed and shuffles into Aizawa’s space, taking the stack of papers from his hands and placing them on the bed beside him. Yamada straddles Aizawa’s lap, gripping the other man’s hands and forcing them onto his hips, then pushing them around to his ass, tucked inside his tight black jeans.

“I asked,” Yamada says, pushing his body back into Aizawa’s hands. “What do you think?”

Aizawa’s mouth opens and his pupils are growing wide and because karma is a bitch, the doorbell rings. Aizawa’s eyes snap shut and his hands drop down as Yamada quickly lets go of them. They both groan in unison.

Yamada almost wants to pick up his phone and tell Imai to take a few laps of the neighborhood for an hour, see the sights.

“You had to invite him to see your cat, didn’t you?” Aizawa groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“You were all for it this morning,” Yamada comments, sitting up and swinging his leg over Aizawa’s pelvis and sliding off the bed.

“That was before you propositioned me in the bedroom.”

Yamada laughs, pulling at Aizawa’s hand.

“Come on, come on, let’s go!”

Aizawa stands up and moves to walk around Yamada, but he tugs him down into a kiss instead, pushing his hand into the other man’s shorter hair, pulling at the strands a bit as he opens his mouth to let Aizawa’s tongue explore inside. Yamada steps forward, pushing his hips against Aizawa’s briefly before they pull apart.

“Seriously, if you keep this up, I am going to tell him to leave.”

As if he’d heard the taunt, the doorbell chimes again. This time it’s followed by a few quick meows from Habiki.

“Coming!” Yamada calls out, turning his head toward the door. Just as he’s stepping out of Aizawa’s embrace, he hears the other man mutter out, “You wish you were” and Yamada has to fight back the blush creeping up his neck the whole way down the hall.

He shoos Habiki and Mai away from the entrance and opens the door, smiling wide at the sight of Imai.

“Come on in!” Yamada says, stepping aside to allow the other man to enter. He’d seen Imai a few times since he’d started dating Aizawa, but something about him tonight seemed a little brighter than before.

A little happier, perhaps, and Yamada’s heart flips happily at the idea of Imai also finding the person who he’d been so desperately searching for, someone who deserved all the light and wisdom Imai had to offer.

Aizawa comes out of their bedroom and nods his head toward Imai, saying, “Hi, welcome to our home.”

“Thank you,” Imai says, shrugging off his coat and shoes. Yamada takes the jacket from his hands to place on one of the hooks by the door.

Imai’s hair is cut shorter than the last time he saw it, framing his face nicely. Yamada points to his own hair and then to Imai, saying, “New do! I like it!”

Imai laughs, thanking him.

“So where is this new member of your family I’ve been hearing so much about?” he asks.

“Sweet baby, Habiki? Our prodigal son!”

“Our what?” Aizawa asks from behind Imai.

Yamada lightly tugs Imai’s sleeve to get him moving and then grabs Aizawa’s hand, pulling him along into the living room. He drops down onto the couch, Aizawa slipping into the spot beside him, and Imai taking a spot in the close by armchair.

“Watch this, it’s magic,” Yamada says, patting his hands against his thighs. Immediately, little pattering feet come tip tapping from the kitchen and Habiki jumps up onto Yamada’s lap.

He scoops the cat into his arms, rocking him like a baby, and holds him out to Imai.

“This is him!” he says.

“Wow, what a cutie!”

“Right!?” Yamada exclaims, lifting Habiki up in his lap to rub his cheek against the cat’s soft fur. “He’s the cutest cat in the whole world!”

As if on cue, Mai lets out a little meow of protest from where she’s curled up on the other arm chair.

“He doesn’t mean it,” Aizawa turns to tell her, holding up his hand as if he’s telling a secret.  Yamada laughs at the gesture. When he looks back toward Imai, he’s surprised to see him leaning casually into the arm of the chair, his chin propped up on his hand, staring at Yamada and Aizawa with fondness.

“I’m so happy for you both,” he says.

Yamada stops petting Habiki, who had rolled onto his back on the man’s lap and bats at Yamada’s unmoving hand.

“Thank you,” Aizawa says.

Yamada’s head quickly turns to look at his partner. He’d been nervous this would be awkward. He’d been a little scared to flaunt his relationship in front of Imai, even if the other had done nothing but been supportive, hell, even pushed him toward Aizawa.

Here they were, in the living room of his new house, with his little family, and Aizawa was thanking his ex.

Yamada smiles down at Habiki, placing his hand back on his soft tummy and stroking through his fur.

“Yeah,” Yamada says, hoping Imai knows he’s not just referring to his kind words when he says,

“Thank you.”

Imai waves him off with his hand, as if to say, don’t worry about it, but Yamada will always be grateful for what he’d done, whether or not Imai thinks it was a big deal.

Habiki stretches out on Yamada’s legs, and then curls up in a little crescent, closing his eyes. Aizawa reaches over and gives him a little scratch on his forehead.

“So how are things going?” Yamada asks, turning back to Imai. “You’re working on a new project, right?” Then, leaning toward the other man, mischievous smirk on his face, Yamada continues, “Meet anyone interesting?”  Yamada raises an eyebrow suggestively.

“I actually just met this guy at my new gig,” Imai says, laughing a bit in the way everyone laughs when they’ve got a new crush, no matter how old. Yamada’s eyes widen at that. He’d been joking, but Yamada smiles as Imai’s cheeks flush a bit. Some part of Yamada feels lighter now, knowing Imai might be well on his way to finding the thing he’d been searching for, for so long, that the other man could get what he deserved for putting up with Yamada’s ridiculous work schedule and tantrums, that they could both end up happy.

Imai continues, saying, “We’ve gone out a few times now. I think you’d like him. He’s a little shy, though.”

“Wow, nothing like you, huh?” Aizawa jokes, nudging Yamada’s side with his elbow. Yamada sticks his tongue out at him and pushes the offending limb away.

Imai laughs again, this time louder, more genuine.

“Yeah, I guess not,” he says. “You’ll meet him at the premiere in a couple weeks actually!”

“I hope you’re prepared for me to do that thing where I ask him way too many intrusive questions to vet him,” Yamada says.

Imai laughs, leaning back in his chair, “I hope you’re prepared for me to roast you at your wedding.”

Yamada covers his face with his hands, “Oh no, oh no, what have I done?”

“I’m ready for it,” Aizawa comments from his right and Yamada’s hand gets halfway from his face to Aizawa’s shoulder, which he’d been intending to give a playful smack, but the other man catches his wrist before he makes it there. Yamada opens his mouth to protest, but now Aizawa is the one looking at him with soft eyes and a gentle smile.

I’m ready for it.

Yamada looks down at where Aizawa’s hand is wrapped around his arm and wiggles his wrist loose, grasping the other man’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Me too.”

---

It hadn’t happened for a long time, an entire class making it to graduation without a single person being expelled. In fact, they’d actually added a person to the class.

Aizawa stands off to the side with the other teachers after the ceremony is finished, after all the big name heroes have given their speeches, and all the homeroom teachers, himself included, had told the kids to please be safe and make them proud.

That no matter how far their careers take them, U.A. will always be here for them. As alumni, this would be their home.

Aizawa watches class 1-A sharing hugs, and a few tears here and there, as they hold up their diplomas and full blown hero licenses in victory. He smiles fondly from where his arm is hooked with Yamada’s, as the blond chats with Kan and Thirteen.

Four years went by remarkably fast, as well as alarmingly slow at times.

He hadn’t been lying up on that stage when he said they’d all turned out to be fine heroes, great heroes. He’s not sure he’s ever seen a class have to deal with so many tragedies and use those events to only motivate themselves further. He was happy to have been their mentor, to have guided them, protected them, and risked his life on more than one occasion for them.

He turns back to the group just as Midoriya is running toward his mother, both of them with fat tears streaming down their cheeks, holding his papers high above his head.

All Might’s retirement had left a void in the world of pros, but watching those kids walk confidently across the stage, shaking each of their hands, he’d felt that space grow smaller. Soon enough, he’s sure it will be filled entirely.

Aizawa feels Yamada’s other hand come up to pat his arm, smoothing over his suit jacket affectionately. He turns to look at the other man and receives a private, soft smile. They tended to keep their relationship mostly off school grounds, but today felt a little bit like it didn’t really count, so Aizawa leans over and kisses the voice hero’s cheek. Yamada rubs the spot with his palm, grinning, when Aizawa pulls away.

“How cute!” he hears Kayama’s voice come from behind them. Aizawa turns just as she joins their small circle, throwing one of her arms over his shoulder and leans heavily against him. She seems extra bubbly, her face tinted pink with a blush, and her hand shakes a bit against his arm.

She smiles brightly at him and then Yamada, before throwing out her left hand into the middle of their circle, spreading her fingers wide. It’s impossible not to be drawn to the silver band adorning her ring finger, a glittering, round white diamond fastened in the middle, surrounded by small, twisting metal vines. Yamada whistles next to him, pushing his glasses down his nose, even though he’s not wearing sunglasses today and can see better with them on his face.  

“That’s a nice rock, Nemuri,” the blond remarks.

“It’s beautiful!” Thirteen exclaims.

“Looks like it’s my turn now, boys!” Kayama laughs, lightly smacking Aizawa’s chest.

“How did she propose?” Kan asks, and Kayama’s arm slips off Aizawa’s shoulder, giving his hand a small squeeze on the way down, as she steps closer to all of them to begin her story. Aizawa smiles, nods along to her retelling. Kayama had started dating her girlfriend almost a year after Aizawa and Yamada had started their relationship. They’d gone on many double dates, hanging out at each other’s apartments, getting drunk and ranting about their workloads.

Aizawa liked the other woman a lot, but he liked the way she made Kayama’s smile bigger more than anything.

When Kayama turns to him and says, “I did all that heavy lifting at your wedding, I expect you two to go all out for mine too,” he doesn’t hesitate to say, “Of course.”

Besides each other, she was their best friend.

Kayama scoots into place between the two of them, throwing an arm over each of their shoulders, pulling them close as she declares, “My best men!”

Yamada laughs loudly from her other side and he pulls her into a hug.

All Aizawa can see in that moment is Yamada, freshly fallen tears still making their way down his cheeks, as he grins, his hair twisted into a beautiful braid, his arms wrapped around Kayama’s back, his left hand centered in the cut out of her bridesmaid dress, wedding band polished, shiny, and perfect, only hours old. He smiles at the memory of their wedding day, at the way Yamada had been blindingly beautiful coming down the aisle, and even more so as the night drew on, as the sun set on their outdoor reception and Aizawa held the other man, back to his chest, as they swayed together in the open air, looking up at the stars.

He can only hope Kayama’s wedding is just as gorgeous, just as perfect as his own was.

It’s the memory he holds most dear.

Aizawa isn’t sure much else could ever top it. Though, Yamada had been not so subtly fitting children into an awful lot of conversations lately.

For now, he kept that breezy night in the back of his head, always there, always waiting, ready to pull out when Yamada was far away at a radio event, or he was wishing he’d worn more layers on a stake out.

Or simply when he wanted to smile and remember how it felt to be joined forever with the one person he loved the most.

---

Adoption is hard. Home visits go well until people ask about Aizawa's job, already well aware Present Mic is a pro. No one really wants to send a child home with two heroes.

Yamada insists it's fine, but he sees the way the other man smiles when he holds his niece. He sees the way that smile falters when he realizes he may never have this for himself, never watch his own daughter run across the yard or fall asleep at the kotatsu.

Aizawa thinks about the way Yamada had never dated another hero before, wonders sometimes if that isn’t part of the reason Yamada never entertained the idea of them together.

He'd never thought about children before this. The only thing he loved as much as Yamada was his job, he wasn't willing to give it up. Except, as he watches Yamada’s back, the tight stiffness of his shoulder blades moving underneath his t-shirt as he shuts the door behind another social worker, he starts trying to imagine his life without hero work.

Could he be happy like that?

Yamada’s hand lingers on the doorknob, and then drops off. Aizawa watches as he turns around, smile plastered on his face, throwing his hands up behind his head and furrowing his brows in what Aizawa can only nicely call an obvious display of fake nonchalance.

“Ah, that could have gone better, huh?” Yamada says, laughing a bit.

Aizawa doesn’t try to hide his annoyance.

“Drop it, Hizashi,” he says. The other man’s smile ticks down a few notches, slowly shifting into a slight frown. “You don’t have to pretend like this doesn’t suck.”

Yamada’s hands drop down heavy to his sides.

“Yeah…” he sighs out, looking down the hall. Aizawa shifts his own gaze away from the slight tremble in Yamada’s lower lip. The blond had been doing remarkably well at keeping it together as agency after agency turned them down. They’d been doing this for months now. They’d filled out so many forms that Aizawa could recite his answers out loud on command at this point.

Yamada had smiled the whole way through it, rejection after rejection. He’d kept insisting, there are more places, we’ll just keep trying.

Aizawa knew, deep down, that Yamada’s can-do attitude had its limits. He’d seen the other man break down numerous times before.

It had been a while, though, and now it seemed he’d run out of his sunny disposition.

Aizawa walks the short distance down the hall, looping his arms around Yamada’s waist and pulling the other man into his chest. As the first sob shakes Yamada’s body, he brings his hand up to the back of the blond’s head, lowering it down to his shoulder, tucking his husband tightly within the safety of his embrace.

He doesn’t bother to say anything, no reassurances, no hushing, he just stands there in their dimly lit hallway, overcast not letting much light through the long windows framing the door, and holds Yamada as he finally lets out all the tears he’d been burying down for so long.

Sometimes there just isn’t anything to say.

Sometimes all you can do is cry.

Aizawa slowly walks them into the living room, holding Yamada tight to his side as he navigates to the couch, tugging the other man gently down with him to sit on the cushions. Yamada instantly curls into Aizawa’s side, turning fully against him, tucking one leg up onto the couch and the throwing the other over Aizawa’s lap as he buries his face into the erasure hero’s shoulder.

Aizawa runs his hand up and down Yamada’s heaving back, using the other to pull his fingers soothingly through his long hair.

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to make false promises.

He told himself not to lie, but with Yamada’s hiccups muffled in his shirt, he finds his mouth falling open. He finds himself saying the words the blond can’t bring himself to anymore.

“We’ll keep trying.”

Aizawa thinks, in that moment, that he is learning about marriage. He is learning about little lies you tell yourself for someone else.

He understands now why Yamada always smiles, even when he doesn’t mean it.

For him.

He’d do anything.

“I-if,” Aizawa clears his throat. He usually never stuttered, but these were the hardest words he’d ever had to say. “If I need to, I can retire.”

Yamada’s sobs cease, his back not moving under Aizawa’s hand as he stops breathing. Slowly, Yamada’s grip on him loosens, and the blond pulls back. Aizawa is expecting him to be upset, but he isn’t expecting him to be furious.

The other man was so rarely mad.

Aizawa almost flinches away under Yamada’s intense stare.

“No,” is all he says.

“Hiz-”

“No. I said no.”

Aizawa sighs, running his hand roughly through his hair.

“They aren’t going to let us adopt like this. They can’t put a kid in a home where both parents have a chance of dying.”

“That’s every home!” Yamada shouts.

Aizawa almost forgot. Yamada’s birth parents had given him up, and he’d spent most of his infant and toddler years at the center, unable to be adopted with his quirk. When he finally had been adopted, a sweet young couple, the family’s home had been one in a dozen robberies, the two killed in their bedroom, Yamada quickly hidden in the closet, instructed to be quiet until a hero or cop came to find him.

He looks down at his hands. This whole thing was probably bringing up a lot of unwanted memories for the blond.

“Hizashi...what happened to your parents...that was a freak accident. You understand that?” Aizawa says, looking up at the other man. Yamada quickly turns his head away. “These social workers aren’t going to see it like that. They can’t predict every incident that could ever happen, but it’s their job to at least try to put kids in a home that minimizes the risk of-”

“Minimizes the risk?” Yamada scoffs, crossing his arms. Aizawa knows he’s just mad, knows he’s hurting, but the glare Yamada levels him with makes Aizawa’s mouth taste sour. “Stop talking about this so clinically. Just be upset! Why do...why do I have to be the only one like this!?” Yamada gestures to himself, poking a finger into his chest as tears start spilling over his eyes again, dropping on the couch cushions below. “Aren’t you mad? Aren’t you upset? Don’t you care!?”

Aizawa swallows, but the lump in his throat keeps getting bigger.

“Of course I’m upset,” Aizawa says.

“But you didn’t want kids! Right? You didn’t want them!”

“I do now…”

“Now,” Yamada repeats his words. The blond’s hands rub harshly at his eyes and nose, trying to wipe up the mess he’s making of his face. Another sob racks through him. Aizawa watches as the other man’s hands move up into his hair, gripping tightly as Yamada leans down, curling inward.

“Hizashi…” Aizawa says, trying to stay calm, trying to tell himself Yamada doesn’t mean the things he’s saying. He reaches out his hand, placing it on the other man’s shoulder. “I know you’re upset...I know...I know I’m not the best at this stuff...but I do care. I care a lot. I might not show it the same way you do, but this is hard for me too. I do want children. I really, really do. I want them so bad I just considered giving up my job for them, do you understand?”

Yamada’s body trembles underneath his hand as the blond shakes his head back and forth.

It’s quiet, but Aizawa hears him.

“I don’t want you to retire,” Yamada whispers. Another small hiccup slips past his lips as he continues, “I just wanted a family.”

Aizawa runs his hand over his husband’s head.

“I know.”

“I’m s-sorry for yelling at you,” Yamada stutters out. “I don’t...I don’t want...I love you. I don’t want you to...I don’t want you to have to give up what you care about.”

Aizawa nods his head, gently running his fingers over Yamada’s head.

“I know you care. I know you want kids too. I don’t mean it…” Yamada sniffs below him and coughs a bit. “I’m just...I’m just tired, Shouta. This is so hard and I know…” Yamada huffs out a breath and sniffs again. His hands move to grips his sides. Aizawa can see his shirt bunching up around the digits. “I know that you’re calmer than me, that you’re better at keeping it together. I was trying so hard to do the same thing...but I couldn’t. I just...sometimes I don’t want to be the only one crying on the couch.”

Aizawa brings his hands to Yamada’s shoulders and forces the blond up, pushing him into a sitting position. He makes sure Yamada is looking at his face, sees the way Aizawa is frowning, how his forehead is creased with worry lines.

“You’re not,” Aizawa says and he feels a tear rolling down his cheek. He knew Yamada was good at seeing beneath all his stoic layers, but never realized how isolating it might feel to be feeling so much pain inside and look at your partner and see them seemingly unaffected.

“You’re not alone, Hizashi. You’ll never be alone. I’m your family. We’re a family, with our without children. I’m not giving up. We’re not giving up. I’m sorry that I wasn’t...talking to you about this. I’m sorry I kept the things I was feeling to myself. I need to be better about sharing things with you,” Aizawa says. He runs his fingers down Yamada’s arm, finding his hand. “I need to be better about sharing my pain with you, so that you can share yours with me.”

Yamada’s lip continues to tremble and streams continue to run over his cheeks and drop off his chin.

There’s nothing he can do to make those things go away.

“Do you,” Yamada starts. “Do you really want kids?”

Aizawa thinks about the day they first walked into their house, three years ago. He remembers standing in the yard and imagining an old tree swing where they’d push their child. He’d been so focused on the idea of growing old with Yamada that he hadn’t really paid that particular train of thought much mind, but…

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, from the first day we moved in here.”

Yamada’s eyes widen at that.

“Really?” he whispers.

Did he always think I was just going along with this because he wanted it?

“When we...when you first showed me this place, we stood out in the yard. Do you remember that?” Aizawa asks.

Yamada nods and Aizawa gives the hand that bears his wedding ring a firm squeeze.

“When you turned around, I didn’t hear a thing you said because I was too busy imagining you old and grey, a wedding ring on your hand, a garden in the yard, and a swing where we used to push our kids in the summer,” Aizawa confesses, staring into Yamada’s eyes. He watches as his words hit home, as Yamada’s cheeks push his eyes into little crescents when a smile begins to form.

Yamada laughs a bit, breathy and soft. He brings the hand Aizawa isn’t holding up to his eyes to wipe away the lingering tears.

“I’m sorry Shouta,” he says. “I’m sorry I thought...I don’t know. I knew you wanted kids, but I guess I thought you didn’t want them as much as me?”

Aizawa nods and says, “It’s okay. At first, I didn’t. Now I do, though. We’re not going to let them win. Don’t let them beat us down like this.”

“Okay,” Yamada says, smiling. “Okay, I won’t.”

“We will be parents.”

“We will be parents,” Yamada repeats. He moves forward, wrapping his arms around Aizawa’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. The blond kisses his cheek.

“I love you,” Aizawa says, bringing his arms around his husband.

“I love you too. I’m sorry for fighting.”

“You were upset at the situation, it’s okay, I get it.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Aizawa holds Yamada and they settle into a comfortable silence, until Aizawa feels like he could drift off like this, exhausted from the whole day.

Then, quietly, Yamada says two words.

“Thank you.”

Aizawa isn’t quite sure what he’s thanking him for. For talking? For understanding? For not blowing up?

Whatever it is, he’s grateful it helped, and he means it when he says, “No problem.”

It isn’t one, it never will be, and if it ever is a problem, they’ll get through it.

Of this, he’s sure.

---

The phone call comes 4 and a half weeks and 3 more home visits later, during lunch period, Yamada’s phone buzzing across the desk surface. He glances at the phone face to see who’s calling and does a double take, quickly grabbing the device and bringing it to his ear. He gets a few annoyed looks from his colleagues as he whispers, “Hello? Yamada speaking,” but most of them quickly go back to ignoring the commotion.

He can feel Aizawa looking at him, but turns away, not wanting to see his husband’s face if this call goes like all the others, for fear of losing it in the staff room.

“Hi, Yamada! This is Riku, from the adoption center?”

“Hi, yeah! I remember you!” Yamada cheerily responds. His chest already feels tight. He’d been through this so many times already. He picks absentmindedly at the corner of his desk.

“I’m calling to let you know that the home visit went well and we’ve approved your application.”

Yamada’s hand slips right off the desk.

“W-what?”

“We’ve approved your application,” the man on the other end explains. “You and your husband can come down and meet some of the kids whenever you’re ready.”

“Th-that’s great!” Yamada says, his voice ticking up a few pitches. His hand is shaking where it holds the phone against his ear. “That’s amazing, let me talk to him and let you know?”

“Sure! Just give me a call when you want to make an appointment.”

“Thank you!”

“Congratulations, Yamada,” Riku says. “Have a good rest of your afternoon.”

“Thank you, thank you! You too!” Yamada says, hanging up. He lowers the phone down to his lap slowly, hands still trembling around the device. He grips it tightly and closes his eyes.

“Who was that?” Aizawa’s voice comes from over his shoulder. He wants to turn around, wants to tell him the good news, but it’s still registering in his own mind. He’s not quite sure how to say the words yet.

Father, he thinks. We are going to be fathers.

Yamada turns his chair around, uncontrollable grin already spreading across his face. He can feel his eyes watering up, but doesn’t want to cry in front of everyone. He looks into Aizawa’s tired, confused eyes.

“That was Riku, from the agency,” Yamada says, his voice surprisingly steady. “We’ve been approved for adoption.”

Aizawa’s mouth opens slowly, then closes, and then opens again. His hands reach out for Yamada and the voice hero happily takes them in his own.

“Can you believe it?” Yamada laughs.

Aizawa shakes his head, a smile of his own bursting onto his face.

“We’ve been waiting for so long…”

“We did it!”

“We did it,” Aizawa agrees, laughing. He tugs on Yamada’s hands and the blond falls forward into his chest, nearly slipping off his chair. Aizawa’s arms wrap around his back to steady him. The erasure hero isn’t big on public displays of affection, especially not in their workplace, but he places a kiss on Yamada’s temple now, whispering, “I love you so much,” in his ear.

Yamada grips the fabric of Aizawa’s costume tight in his hand, closing his eyes as he briefly nuzzles his face against the other man’s chest.

“I love you too,” he says quietly back. “I can’t wait to find the rest of our family.”

“Me too,” Aizawa agrees, pulling out of the embrace. “Do you want to make an appointment for this weekend?”

Yamada nods quickly, opening the calendar on his phone to set a reminder to call Riku back and set up a time. While he’s looking down at his schedule, he realizes they both have the night free.

“Want to celebrate with ice cream later?” Yamada proposes.

“Sure, why not?”

---

It takes him a moment to realize where they are.

They pass under the glow of the street lamp and come out on the other side and he nearly misses it, but Yamada points across the street at the adoption center, at a sweet little spotted dog jumping up and down in the window. Aizawa feels like he should have recognized this place sooner, after all, there were so many people passing by holding ice cream cones and bringing spoonfuls of their frozen treats up to their mouths.

When do I get to be happy?

The words had come to the forefront of his mind on a wave of hatred and nausea. He’d been sick with jealousy, back then, watching as Yamada snuggled up to Imai and enjoyed himself.

Aizawa feels sick in a different way now, frowning.

He’d been jealous of Imai’s and Yamada’s happiness.

He’d taken his own life and compared it to theirs and decided, this is not good enough.

He’d rejected Imai and everything he stood for, hating someone he didn’t even know, and only now had he realized that Imai was funny and selfless. He’d texted the man only a few hours ago, having since become friends.

Aizawa looks around them, at the groups of friends and couples walking by, laughing, chit chatting, and holding hands. He notices a few people walking by themselves. Some with purpose, others ambling along. There are a few stragglers on the outskirts of large groups, looking a bit too familiar to how Aizawa had not so long ago.

How many other people are thinking the same thing he was?

How many other people are looking at him, arm linked with his husband, and thinking, right now, shit I wish I were them.

Aizawa is more than happy with how things turned out, but he feels a twinge of regret, knowing he’d spent so much time focused on what other people had, wanting what other people had, that he’d forgotten what he did have.

Yamada was there nearly every day and, while he didn’t realize he loved Aizawa romantically, he certainly loved him as a friend for that entire time.

Aizawa hadn’t been able to see what he had, he’d only seen what he wanted.

When do I get to be happy?

When is it my turn?

Aizawa pulls his arm out from Yamada’s to place it around the other man’s shoulders instead, pulling him in close. He kisses Yamada’s cheek.

He could have been content without this privilege, without being able to kiss Yamada in public or private, without a house and two cats and the warm press of the other man’s body against his back. He could have been content without all of this, without these bonus things.

He just didn’t know it.

As Yamada turns his head to kiss Aizawa’s lips, he thinks, but why should I settle for just content?

Why should I settle for just friends?

For just enough?

If I could have had more, if I always could have had this, why would I ever not reach for it?

Why would I not ask for it?

Fight for it?

Aizawa pulls back and strokes Yamada’s cheek, staring into his eyes, smiling.

He could have survived without all of this. It would have been a fine life to lead.

But he wouldn’t have been happy, not really.

He wouldn’t have truly lived without this.

[wordsablaze]

(6) At Least The Fatigue Is Real

Stubbornly In Love Magnus and Alec are two beautiful souls that both happen to be in love, heartbroken, and painfully stubborn. An angsty malec fic prompted by this lovely soul, chapter 6-10 done as part of the Malec Big Bang! Enjoy!

A/N: Help out? Posting week is here so I’m back! Mostly thanks to my astonishingly wonderful beta @zeejade88 as she went above and beyond with tolerating me and making everything better <333 Check out the incredible art that @dmsilvisart made, I am honoured to have worked with her for this fic and to have received such magical artwork! <3

It’s a good thing Alec’s tears aren’t the source of rain because otherwise the entire world would be flooding at an alarming rate.

He can’t think past Magnus and how he’d left. Of course, he knows Magnus had only left because Alec had asked, but that doesn’t make it any easier for his heart. There’s a part of him that wishes he could just go back, back to when he didn’t know Magnus and when becoming the head of the Institute was his biggest concern, but he knows that’s impossible no matter how much he wants it not to be.

But, on the other hand, he doesn’t want to think about Magnus right now because he’s having dinner with Maryse in less than a quarter of an hour and the last thing he wants is for her to find out they’ve broken up, which is why he finds himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror and breathing heavily, trying to persuade himself that he’s okay.

“You can do this. No big deal. All you have to do is pretend everything’s fine. You’ve done it before and you can do it again. You can do this.”

His reflection seems unconvinced; he’s tempted to punch the helplessly truthful mirror.

Glaring at himself doesn’t seem to have the same effect as when he glares at others so he gives up on it after another minute, just sighing and running a hand through his hair instead. Almost immediately, he groans, opens the tap, wets his hands, and tries to make himself look like he hadn’t only changed clothes because of this family dinner. Somehow, the whole thing takes ten minutes so he’s only just satisfied with his appearance when Izzy bursts in, radiating concern.

“What if I’d been naked, Izzy?” Alec asks, rolling his eyes at her fearless behaviour.

Izzy scoffs. “I’ve seen much worse than you, get over yourself. Now, if you’re done preening, we have a mother to entertain.”

“I was not preening!” Alec argues as she tugs on his arm, then all but drags him to the front entrance.

Oh no.

Maryse is armed with a bottle of wine and a giddy smile, which can’t be good. The last time she’d turned up in this kind of state, Magnus had been the only one who could keep up with her and coax her away from drinks and towards mindless chatter and rest instead.

“Izzy…” Alec murmurs, his tone saying everything he’d rather not. That and the fact that Izzy seems to have an inbuilt Alec-translator means she perfectly understands what he’s thinking in a heartbeat.

Izzy swallows but blinks away her frown. “We can do this. Come on, where’s that stupid determination of yours? I bet you Clary’s next brownie batch that she’ll hug you first.”

Alec makes a face but then they’re too close to Maryse for him to say anything without being overheard so he plasters a smile onto his face and takes the bottle from her hands. “Hey, Mom.”

“My children!” Maryse smiles brightly before hugging them both in turn, Alec first just as Izzy had predicted, the scent of coconut flooding through the door as she walks through.

“We made stew!” Izzy tells Maryse as they walk towards the room they’d turned into a dining room a couple of weeks back since nobody ever used it for anything else and family time had suddenly become much more common, to everyone’s pleasant surprise.

Not wanting Maryse to reply with something borderline insulting and spark yet another nostalgic debate, Alec adds: “Don’t worry, it’s the new and upgraded version.”

“Oh, thank the angel,” Maryse breathes in relief.

Izzy makes an indignant sound. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad!”

She gets only a hum in reply but, thankfully, they reach the dining room before they can start another argument over the quality of their childhood attempts at cooking. Alec opens the door and lets the other two in before following them, shutting the door behind him to keep away prying eyes or nosy ears.

The first round of stew is accompanied by flickering conversation topics that Alec mostly tunes out. It’s only when they refill their ridiculously small bowls – the size of which is the only reason that they’re having more than one serving in the first place – that things go slightly south.

“So, Alec, how’s Magnus? Busy with a client, I presume?” Maryse asks, a smile on her face that Alec really doesn’t want to sabotage.

Naturally, he does one of the things he’s best at: he keeps pretending. “Yeah, it was an urgent request. In fact, I forgot to tell you, he sends his apologies for not being able to make it.”

Izzy gives him an odd look but doesn’t contradict him, going with it. “Good thing too, he’d probably have stolen bigger bowls with the excuse of being fabulous and gotten us in trouble again.”

“Again?” Maryse echoes, raising an eyebrow and sipping her drink.

It’s not a secret that Alec himself occasionally indulges in and appreciates alcohol but, right now, he couldn’t hate it more. He just really wants to stop talking about Magnus and pretend that this is just another casual dinner rather than the only reason Alec is talking to anybody else in the first place.

“Well, there was that time we had a stray cat problem and, instead of helping relocate them, all Magnus did was magic us some bowls and cat litters,” Izzy says, rolling her eyes and effectively covering for Alec’s internal distress.

Maryse just laughs, throwing her head back as she imagines the scene. Alec offers a small chuckle as Izzy takes the lead in their conversation, the two siblings fully shocked when Maryse starts to tell them her own stories about Magnus. Alec listens with a troubled interest, not sure whether he should listen to the tales of his boyfriend- no, his ex-boyfriend’s adventures after jeopardising their relationship’s ability to fix itself.

Regardless of his ever-growing guilt, he listens and finds himself smiling at the crazy things Magnus has done. It makes him want to go and see Magnus’ mannerisms for himself, to go and build his own stories with Magnus, but, mostly, to just go, go away from this situation and cry in his room again.

“Alec, are you alright?” Maryse asks, apparently finally seeing through his pretence.

He smiles as brightly as he can, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine, Mom. Just a little tired, it was a long day.” And he’s not exactly lying. It was a long day and he is utterly tired, just not for the reasons Maryse is probably thinking.

“You can say that again,” Izzy says under her breath, smirking a little.

Maryse smiles at him, then waves a hand. “You can go and rest if you need to. It’s been a while since Isabelle and I have had some quality girl talk anyway…”

Izzy genuinely snorts, then covers it up with a cough, but nobody could miss the shine in her eyes at those words. It’s been halfway to forever since they’ve had anything close to girl talk and Alec really wants to be happy for her, he does, but he can’t pull his mind out of the time he’s spent with Magnus. He still smiles, though, yawning to authenticate his fatigue and just about managing a decent wave before he leaves, walking faster than he’d thought he could.

By the time he gets to his room, he’s too tired to change his clothes so he just pulls his socks off – a habit he’d picked up from seeing Magnus remove his socks before bed so many times – and flicks the light he’d left on earlier, off. His happiness, patience, and concentration might have been fabricated but his lack of energy is genuine and even he knows he can’t fake his way out of that one.

“Nnnggghhhhh,” he groans after taking two more steps, promptly flopping onto the mattress face-down; pretending is way more tiring than people can ever know. And if he falls asleep cuddling his pillow as if it’s a certain warlock, well, nobody will ever know that either.

like/reblog but don’t respot, thanks!

[lazyneonrabbitt]

New kids on the North Side. [Pt.2]

Sweet Pea x Reader [Pt.1] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6]

North and South merge within Riverdale High’s walls. What’s the worst that could happen? 

All the teams had started on their projects surprisingly easy and without much protests from any of the students.  And then there you were, sharing a table with Sweet Pea, who seemed to be struggling to understand any of the books' contents while you were reading through the chapter and writing down notes that could come in handy later. You noticed him looking at you and then your notes, getting visibly more annoyed the more time passed and you let out a defeated sigh. 

"I'll help you study, but only if you ask for it." You knew he was too proud to ask for any help, especially from a North sider. He acknowledged your offer but didn't get into it any further. By the end of class, which was also the end of the day, you had a full page of possibly helpful notes and headed over to Pop's where you'd meet up with your friends for milkshakes and burgers. You talked about your study partners and how things were going between everyone, how long this school thing was gonna last and some stuff about the project itself. It started getting late and you all decided to head home.You came home to an empty house, like most of the time since you started living here. Your parents were always on business trips and could sometimes be gone for months at once. They'd send you weekly money for food and any necessities. You checked your phone and saw it had died on your way home so you plugged it into your charger and took a quick shower. Going over today's events in your head, especially the stuff Jughead said after your encounter with Sweet Pea at your locker. It was the worst kind of luck that you had to be paired up with the one guy you already sort of picked a fight with. You admitted to yourself that remembering those Serpent laws from Jughead was a good idea, it caught him off guard and saved your ass.

At the White Wyrm the Serpent students had gathered again, and just as the kids on the other side of the tracks, they were discussing everything about school and its students, study partners and projects. Most of then spent most of their time like they usually would whenever the conversation subject had anything to do with the North side. They clearly weren't happy about their school being closed down by the mayor and her friends, but some of them had to admit that they were finally understanding some of the subjects thanks to the teachers taking time to explain the material and help each student individually as far as possible, some even exchanged phone numbers and social media info with their study partners who offered to help them study. The environment was good, just the way they got to be there was anything but that.

Sweet Pea hadn't been contributing to the conversation at all and had seated himself at the bar, a thing he only did when he wanted to be left alone. Of course this never worked whenever Toni was behind the bar, and he ended up talking to her instead until Jughead joined them. They did continue talking about today a bit after all, Jug had been a student at Riverdale High for years and a he was a Serpent, so maybe he had some useful information like which teachers paid the least attention to students not showing up for class or which ones would give the most homework or hand out the most projects. The kind of info that would make their time on the North side easier. "Hey Jones,"Sweet Pea called after him "Before you leave, you're friends with the kid I'm partnered up with, right? I saw you talking." "You mean y/n?" He stopped and turned around. "Yea, why?" He made his way back to the bar and sat down again. Sweet Pea had no idea why he even called him back, and had even less of an idea of why he did any of this. "You have her number? I forgot to ask it earlier." He looked anywhere except at his two friends. "For project stuff.” He quickly added. ”She had all these notes and I could use some help." Toni couldn't hold her laugh and Jughead grabbed his phone with a knowing smile and sent y/n's contact info. Sweet Pea's phone vibrated on the bar as it received the message. This was Jughead's cue to attempt to leave again, hoping he'd succeed this time, which he luckily did. It wasn't long after Jughead's leave that Sweet Pea grabbed his stuff and made his way back to his trailer as well, parking his motorcycle on its usual spot and making himself some food. 

Dinner in hand, he sat down on the couch, looking through the notifications on his phone that he had been ignoring from most of the afternoon. Slowly going through updates posted on the White Wyrm group page, which were mostly the kids posting updates on the school issue and the older generation commenting on them all like either typical old people or posting angry statements on how wrong it all was. Some other notifications were from posts he got tagged in by Fangs, mostly funny videos or anything that Fangs thought his friend would like, and at last going through the group chats and other messages, including your contact info sent by Jughead. He looked at the message for a bit, it was ended with a winky face, showing he had an idea of what was going on. But he himself didn't even have any idea of what was going on. He only knew you were more interesting than the average student walking around Riverdale High, but you were still a North side princess. But then again, you still offered to help him study. Yes, that was what's going on. He added your info to his contact list and opened a new message, typing, deleting and retyping it several times before finally managing to get a convincing text together and sending it away. And of course he forgot to add his name. He typed another message, but before he could send it a reply already popped up, agreeing to help him study and offering to meet at your place if he was okay with staying on the North side any longer than was necessary. He deleted his message and started typing again. When you got out of the shower you turned your phone back on and notifications started popping up all over the thing. You read through the entire conversation that went on in your friends' group chat about boys that was currently filled with descriptions of new boys that wandered around the halls of Riverdale High. The other group chat didn't have much, mostly plans for the next burger & milkshake 'date' at Pop's. You swiped away some live notifications and streams that ended hours ago already and opened one from your favorite actress who was answering questions on her latest movie role. Halfway into the video, a text from Sweet Pea popped up, asking you if the study help offer was still a thing and if you knew a place where you could study in peace without having to deal with others. You quickly typed a reply and sent it away, within the minute another message popped up.

'How did you know this is Sweet Pea?' -Sweets' Got your number from Jug. wanted to ask but you left already." -y/n

After that the chat went silent and you continued going through your social media, seeing post from your friends who added their south side partners to their friend list. This got you curious to how much different a South sider's profile would be from yours and you friends'. You assumed it would have the same overall interests like movies and music, maybe sports and the usual amount of tagged posts of friends' jokes. You convinced yourself, you were gonna look for a South sider's profile, and that one certain Serpent came to mind. You looked for Jug's profile and scrolled through his friends, looking for the Serpent's name. Even while Jug had friends on both North and South side he still didn't have a lot of people in his list, so finding who you were looking for was pretty easy.  He had a photo of himself in front of a wall with a massive, brightly colored snake as profile picture, that almost perfectly blended with his cover image of that same wall, showing the rest of the snake and some other Serpent tags. Somehow the overall looks of his page perfectly captured the guy's aesthetic. You laughed to yourself, thinking of him spending hours on editing everything into perfection. It was somewhat like Jug's weirdly huge collection of S shirts. You always wondered where he got those, almost thinking he'd have them custom printed every once in a while. In your moment of happy gigglyness, you clicked on the 'Add Friend' button and put away your phone as the intro tune of your show was starting on TV and you didn't want to miss any second of these last two episodes of this season.

After the episode you grabbed your phone and went straight to bed, hoping you'd catch up on some much needed sleep. But you couldn't sleep, so you went back downstairs and made yourself a light snack. Or at least that was the plan, instead you ended up cooking an entire meal that could last you three days, grabbed a plate full and made your way back into the living room where you put on Netflix and skipped through the entire catalog three times before giving up and got up to get another plate of food. Sitting back down on the couch you grabbed the remote again and put on the same show you finished days before already. You still weren't tired, but told yourself to lay down in the hopes you'd eventually fall asleep. You grabbed your phone from the table and unlocked it, it was still on Sweet Pea's profile, which you wanted to swipe away but didn't. If he's gonna be your study partner for a while, it'd be a good thing to know a bit more about him, wouldn't it? Sadly enough, you found that his page was lacking quite some info and he didn't share much either, the page was mostly just very aesthetically pleasing. Putting your phone away disappointed, you finally started getting tired and couldn't be bothered to get off the couch and dug behind it for a blanket and slept on the couch tonight.