#but also trying to not overstep and stretch myself out too thin which i might have today

[ame-to-ame]

My friends are so nice to me??? I love them???

[whatstheproblembaby]

Fic: With Open Arms

Making my first foray into Call the Midwife fic writing! Turnadette, s2, ~2250 words, G.

Sister Bernadette keeps finding herself in situations where she desperately wants to be in Dr. Turner’s arms. This is not allowed...until it is.

Read here on AO3!

Sister Bernadette rubbed her thumb back and forth over the knuckles of her other hand, trying to focus on keeping a steady rhythm as the car slowly made its way toward Nonnatus House. She was hoping that between the cover of her scapular and the necessity of Dr. Turner keeping an eye on the road as he drove, he wouldn’t notice her small movements, but-

“Sister? Are you sure you’re alright?”

Blast.

“Nothing a little rest won’t cure, Doctor,” she replied, keeping her tone light. “Although even rest won’t help when Sister Evangelina finds out I’ll have to go retrieve my bicycle before I can do my rounds tomorrow.”

Dr. Turner glanced away from the road just long enough to shoot her a stern glare. “You were assaulted by a patient during a long, difficult delivery! The last thing you should have to do after all that is bicycle home on your own, especially when it looks like the weather is going to turn.”

“Assaulted is a little strong, don’t you think?” Sister Bernadette asked, though she couldn’t keep herself from reaching up to gently rub the place on her cheek where Meg Carter had struck her. It wasn’t throbbing with pain any longer, but even the slight pressure from her own fingers was enough to make her let out a soft grunt of discomfort.

“Clearly not,” Dr. Turner said, smiling wryly. He pulled over beside the staircase outside Nonnatus House, braking and turning the car off before reaching over to Sister Bernadette. “Let me take a look at that.”

“You don’t need to-”

“Let me take a look,” he repeated, hands warm on her face. “It will put both of our minds at ease.”

Sister Bernadette didn’t quite believe that statement.

She closed her eyes as the doctor carefully ran his fingers over her cheekbone, feeling for any lumps or breaks. Thoughts she had been trying to ignore for weeks now ran through her mind in the silence of the car, half-formed feelings of longing and love that she desperately wanted to believe were acceptable under her vows. After all, she loved her sisters in God and nursing, didn’t she?

Somehow I don’t think I’d be this conflicted if Trixie or Jenny were conducting this examination, though, she concluded mentally, pressing her lips together in chagrin.

“Sister? Did that hurt?”

“No more than the rest of my face,” she said, opening her eyes to find Dr. Turner looking directly at her with an expression she couldn’t quite name. As he let go of her, she shifted her weight and crossed her arms tightly against her chest, suddenly feeling adrift.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” he said. She felt exposed under his gaze, though he wasn’t looking anywhere he shouldn’t. “A few hours sleep and an aspirin, and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sister Bernadette said softly, looking down at her lap. “If you would...could you not tell the others what happened at the Carter delivery? I don’t want the fuss or the worry.”

“You know Nurse Franklin may have already told the story to everyone? She’s better than a newspaper sometimes.”

“She might have gossiped to the other nurses, but they won’t worry themselves too much. I’m more concerned about how my sisters might react.” Sister Bernadette swallowed hard after her admission. “They’ll want to have you conduct a more formal examination, or pull me off the duty rota...and I couldn’t bear all of that. Not now. If I experience any lasting pain or swelling, I’ll inform you, I promise.”

“I know you will, Sister. I trust your judgment,” Dr. Turner said. They shared one last look, during which Sister Bernadette tried to suppress her yearning for him. She was mere inches away from his arms...and much as she was trying to avoid the motherly intentions of Sister Julienne she usually appreciated, she had a wild notion that Dr. Turner’s embrace would be the exact comfort she so deeply desired, warm and safe and smelling slightly of the cigarette they’d shared….

“May I help you get your bag inside?” Dr. Turner asked suddenly, putting an abrupt end to Sister Bernadette’s fantasies.

“No, thank you. I don’t want any fuss, remember?” she replied. As he exited the car and walked over to let her out, she shook her head slightly, hoping to regain her sense. “You’re very kind.”

She took her proffered bag in one hand and shut the car door behind her, smiling up at Dr. Turner for a quick moment before making her way over to the stairs. As she reached the first step, she heard a call from behind her.

“Sister?” When she turned around to face Dr. Turner again, he continued, “You were brilliant today.”

“Thank you. Your support made all the difference.” She gathered her bag close to her chest, the closest she would get to an embrace that day, and nodded once at the doctor before turning back to the stairs and entering the convent.

If she had looked back as the door closed behind her, she would have seen Dr. Turner gripping the car door handle tightly, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to follow her inside and never let her go.

___________________

Weeks later, Sister Bernadette was back in Dr. Turner’s car, watching the city thin out into the countryside and trying not to obsess over every breath she took.

“I really do think we’ve caught this in time for the triple treatment to work its wonders,” he said, not for the first time. The hopeful side of her wanted to believe that he couldn’t think straight around her, either, but she refused to indulge that thought. He was driving, trying to make sure they got to St. Anne’s in one piece - he had other things to focus on.

“So you’ve said,” she teased, hoping to see him smile one last time before she was exiled away from him - no, Poplar, not just him, she corrected herself - for who knew how long.

“I’m sorry.” He turned to smile at her briefly, and Sister Bernadette felt her soul light up in response. “I’m terrible company, aren’t I? I just...I don’t want to worry you.”

“You’re navigating down treacherous country roads to a place you’ve never been,” she said, smiling back. “I understand if conversation isn’t the first thing on your mind just now.”

“I’ll be more interesting when I write to you, I promise.”

“When you - when you write to me?” Sister Bernadette parroted, caught off-guard.

“Do you not want me to?” Dr. Turner asked in alarm. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to overstep-”

“No, no - please do write,” she said quickly. “I just didn’t think - you’re so busy-”

“I don’t want you to feel alone,” he said, cutting off her spluttering remarks. “I know the sisters and nurses will write, but I’m sure they’ll also get busy at times - and I promised Tim he could send letters, too.”

“Well, we can’t disappoint Timothy.” Sister Bernadette turned to smile at Dr. Turner once again, but her expression froze as they rounded a corner and came upon the gates to St. Anne’s.

The car was silent as the doctor pulled in and came to a stop a little ways away from the front portico. They sat unmoving for a moment before he finally spoke.

“Here we are, then.” Dr. Turner got out of the car and came around to open Sister Bernadette’s door before popping the boot to retrieve her travel cases. As he bustled about, she stood unmoving by the rear of the car, staring up at the massive building.

“Sister?” He came up beside her, hovering uneasily for a moment before resting his hand ever so gently on her shoulder. She forced herself not to lean into his touch, to keep it chaste, appropriate, friendly.

It was a hard battle.

“I’m scared,” she said softly, glancing up from his hand to his eyes. “I know my chances of recovery are excellent, but nothing’s guaranteed, is it?”

“If anyone can beat TB, it’s you,” Dr. Turner said, squeezing her shoulder. “I may sound overconfident, I know, but I believe mindset plays a role in all recoveries, minor though it may be. I also can’t...can’t even begin to let myself think that you may not come back.”

At that, Sister Bernadette gave up on self-restraint. A couple of tears turned into a steady stream, and she felt a handkerchief get thrust into her hands as the rest of her body was pulled toward Dr. Turner’s inviting chest.

“Wait,” she choked out, halting herself a hair’s breadth away from the place she most wanted to be. She used the hankie to mop her eyes before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I could be contagious. You could get sick, too, and then what would happen to Timothy, and all your patients? I couldn’t live with myself if...if….”

She sobbed once into the handkerchief and took a tiny step back.

“I want to, Doctor, more than I feel free to admit. But I can’t. Not while I’m sick.”

Sister Bernadette made herself look Dr. Turner in the eyes once she finished speaking and felt a rush of relief when she saw understanding and support in his gaze.

“Part of me wants to take the risk, but I know you’re right,” he said, letting out a resigned chuckle. “As usual.”

She chuckled once at that, too. “Thank you. I suppose...I suppose the sooner I get inside, the sooner I can start treatment, right?”

“And the sooner you’ll be back in Poplar,” Dr. Turner confirmed. “I’ll miss you, Sister.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Doctor.” Sister Bernadette reached for her cases, only to remember she was still carrying the doctor’s hankie. When she stretched out her arm to return it, he waved it away.

“Keep it. Just in case.”

“I’ll give it back once I return to Nonnatus.” She tucked the hankie carefully in the pocket of her habit before offering her empty hand. “I promise.”

Dr. Turner shook her hand once, warmly. “I’m holding you to that.”

___________________

“I think it’s her!” came the shout from behind her.

Shelagh thought she might faint in the road when she recognized the voice. She turned back to see a familiar, beloved green car approaching and dropped her cases when it came to a stop and Dr. Turner got out.

He was in front of her almost before she could blink. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, overwhelmed, until he reached up slowly and rested his hand against her forehead, checking for fever.

“What if it had started raining? What if you got lost?” he asked, hushed and fervent.

“I was lost,” she confessed. A sheepish smile threatened to grow on her face, brought on by the combination of her joy at seeing him again and her embarrassment at her plan failing. “I got the wrong bus.”

He stripped off his overcoat at that, wrapping it around her shoulders and surrounding her with the scent of Henleys and cologne. “I was on the right road.”

“Yes,” she whispered, reveling in the warmth of his jacket and the weight of his hands against her collarbone. Somehow, that one statement seemed the most apt way to describe their entire relationship. “I know you so little, but I couldn’t be more certain.”

“I am completely certain.” There was a moment of silence before he admitted, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Shelagh.”

“Patrick,” he replied, answering the question she had had since she saw the signature on his first letter to her at the sanatorium.

“There, we’ve made a start,” she said, feeling the rightness bloom inside her. “Timothy!”

Timothy had popped up beside her out of nowhere. He wriggled under her right arm, squeezing her in a casual yet affectionate hug and forcing his father to take a step back.

“Are you better? Are you coming back?” he asked, beaming up at her.

“Yes and yes. As long as your father allows me in the car,” Shelagh said, looking up at Patrick with a teasing grin as she hugged Timothy back.

“He will!” Timothy chirped. “Here, I’ll get your bags.”

He scooped up a case in each hand and darted back to the car, depositing her things in the boot before clambering back into the back seat.

“You are always welcome anywhere I am,” Patrick said when they were alone again. “But I would prefer that right now, we were somewhere warmer and drier, for your sake.”

“As would I,” Shelagh replied. “But there is one thing I need to do before we can go.”

“What could you possibly-”

Patrick’s question was cut off by Shelagh closing the distance between them to bury her face in his chest, her arms wrapping around his torso securely. Scarcely a moment later, she felt Patrick return the embrace, bracing her as she went slightly weak in the knees. His lips gently brushed the top of her head.

“I was dreaming about this at St. Anne’s. Ever since I had to push you away that first day,” she said, turning her face so she could speak clearly but refusing to move even a centimeter away.

“I was dreaming about this long before then. All I wanted to do after Meg Carter slapped you was bundle you up and ensure you were alright.”

“I wanted that too. But better late than not at all, right?”

“I couldn’t possibly agree more.”

[chick-from-nz]

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 3)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, spelling and grammatical errors. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo might not be cannon accurate for some as this is an AU. Flippy, floppy point of views (if it can be called that?), some oc x Army!oc 

AUTHORS NOTE:  hopefully y'all enjoy this chapter, sorry for the high amount of OC on OC content in this chapter, also i was writing this late at night so its probably a lil disjointed, but ah, yeah you’ll see why soon. More of the Colonel is this chapter, finally, but yeah. enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

CHAPTER: 3 OF ?

TAG LIST (OPEN) : @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

It seemed wishful thinking really did not pay off for Cadet Greyson, the next two days of training went by without so much of a sighting of the Colonel, who at this point, was still nameless to her and her fellow cadets. Maybe he hadn't seen someone worth his while within the current platoon and had instead decided to leave for the main base to find a more adequate soldier. Greyson dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. Surely he would want a fresh little soldier to mold into his perfect team member, why else would he be sniffing round the training grounds if not for that reason. But as it seemed, no one other than herself had seen the Colonel around. So maybe he was really just a figment of her imagination then.

Pffft, as if, you can’t make THAT man up. He is pure sin of the utmost devine kind  Greyson giggled quietly to herself. She had definitely gone mad from the deathly amount of exhaustion they had faced since the assessment day.  That or maybe I hit my head when I fell from that stupid wall.  Again she giggled to herself. Nope , definitely gone mad.

Another thing that struck her as odd was that she hadn’t seen  LT. Colonel Sinclair since their less than professional interactions two days ago. Hopefully he finally came to his senses and decided she wasn't worth the effort and that her rank was far below anything worthy of his attention. For some reason though, that thought struck a cord inside of her, one that frightened her. She was in over her head with this guy, way over her head and rank. Even if he was drop dead gorgeous.  Definitely not as attractive as a certain handsome Colonel.  A little inside voice reminded her. God, that was the last thing she needed, falling for a guy with an even higher rank, if she wasn’t frowned upon already she definitely would be then.

Shaking the idea from her mind, she stood up and continued packing up her kit. The company was to head back to the training base today. A welcome thought for all the recruits within the area. The thought of sleeping on a bed that wasn’t below zero temperature to the touch and fully functioning warm showers seemed to be pushing them to move faster and more fluidly as a team than ever before. There is never a more motivated team than a team that has a single goal in common . Sometimes she hated her father but she never knew that saying to be more true than it was now.

It took the recruits approximately thirty minutes to have the campsite return to the pristine state it was before they laid camp only four days earlier, despite the fact said week had felt like a month long mission.  Despite all the recruits being overworked and their patience stretched thin with each other, all of the thirty recruits had passed their final assessment week, which would mean all of them would graduate together. An accomplishment for all and a first for a company of this size.  Yet, it was obvious from an outsider looking in, that this company was definitely not a team of thirty like they should be. The distinct scores between the top three recruits and the rest had seemingly made the company into two teams. The twenty seven cadets who had done enough to pass, and the three cadets who had excelled beyond all expectations in every single area of the training. The elite cadets of the company some might say.

The next few hours flew by for the cadets, a long bus ride back to base, stowing away their kit and polishing boots to get their rig from exercise standard back  to office standard. Rumors' had been passed around that tonight there was to be a big meeting for the cadets to attend. There was a palpable excitement coursing through the mess as everyone tried to guess what the meeting was about, many speculated that they would be introduced to the Colonel, while others thought it was a congratulations for completing their assessment week. Although, it was safe to say, that many of the recruits were hoping for the former of the two, and maybe if that happened one of them would be formally offered a spot on the Colonel’s intel squad.

Without even knowing the name of the Colonel there was already a bet running between the female cadets about the attractiveness of the foreign officer. Some girls bet that he was going old and undesirable due to his rank,  while others bet he was a “young stud”. Greyson had kept her thoughts to herself but would often scoff at the descriptions the girls came up with, not one of them was even getting close to what the Colonel looked like, which instilled a strange sense of pride within the cadet. But also a high level of confusion as not a single recruit in the platoon had ever mentioned seeing an unknown officer with the instructors a mere two days ago.

As the evening progressed the recruits waited for an announcement to be made over the speakers for them to move to the scran hall or into the common area for the meeting. By eight o’clock the recruits finally heard the speakers crack to live, waking most of them from an evening of well deserved rest. The recruits followed the instructions given to them and made haste towards the common area a short march away from their barracks. Upon arriving, dismissing and gathering in the space many recruits seemed to deflate at the lack of an unfamiliar face.

“Good evening cadets, as you know there is a Columbian Colonel on base observing the ins and outs of some squadrons so he can choose a select few members from different corps so join his intelligence team. Over the past week he was in and out of the training grounds observing most of you knowing. By the end of your longest day he had made a tough decision between two of the cadets sitting in this room, along with choosing your squadron leader, Lieutenant O’Connor here to be a part of his squad. In saying that, the colonel is yet to inform us of which cadet sitting in this room is the lucky new member of his squad. I shall take it upon myself, as the commander of the unit, to inform you as soon as I know” LT. Colonel Sinclair’s speech seemed to drone on for most of the cadets in the room. They were tired, beyond so, and were just wishing he would allow them to leave as soon as possible, but as it seemed, he wasn’t finished yet.

“I will be taking time this coming week to pull each of you into my office to discuss your future in the force and what corps you are now eligible to join due to your overall scores gained from the past twenty weeks of your training. Once you have all been assigned to a core you shall receive your patches and berets and be formally welcomed into your chosen field before you graduate. The last week of training will consist of core introductions and briefs and finalization of drill before your graduation day. I will offer you all a very big congratulations for making it through training and wish you all the best for your futures in the force. You are dismissed”

At the dismissal most of the cadets all but jumped from their chairs, having been given no more orders for the night it was to be a peaceful night ahead. And many of them would be heading straight to the barracks for sleep.  Greyson began to make her way from the room following slightly behind her fellow classmates only to be stopped by the LT. Colonel calling out to her. Stopping abruptly at the order she turned around and walked back towards him, the whole time wondering if this was gonna be another one of his ‘teasing moments’.

“Sir, not to overstep but I would like to get back to the barracks and back to my pit before I drop on my feet” Greyson said kindly to make it very clear to the LT. Colonel in front of her that she was suggesting and definitely not ordering him around, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“This will only take a moment Greyson, I assure you that...” the LT Colonel trailed off, waiting for his subordinate to acknowledge, before continuing on, “I wanted to congratulate you personally on you achievements over the cadets course, you have set multiple records with the scores you have obtained and I wanted to let you know that you are the top recruit from your intake”

Shifting on her feet awkwardly Greyson nodded in thanks, silently acknowledging her own achievements and also trying to stay awake for the conversation. The LT. Colonel took a step closer to her, again entirely to close from a professional standpoint, and placed his hand on her shoulder, steady and firm, making her whole body tense up at the initial contact before she subtly, or so she thought, relaxed far too much under his touch. She had, after all, had no contact from anyone since joining the army, as was protocol, but it had left her touch starved, and in her tired state, far too ready to throw rank out the window and do something that broke far too many rules.

The LT. Colonel noticed the way she relaxed under his touch and decided to push the boundary a little further bringing the cadet in front of him into a tight hug, to which she returned all too eagerly. While absorbed in each other's embrace they failed to notice one of the other cadets, Cadet Lewis, watching from the door. Lewis was Greyson’s roommate and had stayed behind when she noticed she wasn’t behind her like she should have been.

Greyson sank into the embrace, although knowing that this was highly against almost all rules put in place she couldn’t bring herself to care. Yes he was her commanding officer, and yes she was but a lowly cadet, but in that moment wrapped within his strong arms and snuggled closely into her chest, she had never felt more relaxed. She let out one long shaky breath, one that he definitely felt, and pulled away from him. She needed to keep the relationship professional till she graduated, and probably even after then, god knows her father wouldn't want her to disgrace his name.

As she pulled away from his warm embrace she dared a glance up, there was a look of what almost seemed like longing and affection in the eyes of the man before her, and a look of want, the emotions she found in his intense brown eyes made her shiver. She watched as his eyes glanced down towards her lips, then slowly back up to her eyes as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Shamefully her own eyes were then transfixed on his mouth, and for a small moment, she pushed the thoughts of rank out the window as his head dipped down and his lips captured hers in a bruising kiss. The shock that came from the kiss had her gasping into his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to tangle his tongue with hers, she felt his hands start to wander down her back, and further still to her ass. The shock of this seemed to finally bring her to her sense, cause not a second later she was pushing him away and taking a few steps back for good measure.

Standing there staring at the LT Colonel, chest heaving in time with his, sheer horror overcame her sense. What had she just done? Wiping a hand down her face to clear her thoughts she knew she needed to end this before it started, even if the kiss was better than nay she had had.

“Sir, I..” Greyson trailed off, she was struggling to find the right words for the situation, she didn’t want to reject him in a harsh way, or reject him at all if she was being totally honest with herself, but she knew this was the only thing that would save her career from being a shit-fight. “I’m sorry Sir, I can’t do this, I’m sorry” and with those final words she dismissed herself and promptly left the room for the safety of her barracks. In her rush to get away from an awkward moment, she failed to notice the  LT. Colonel’s face fell and the way he had to refrain himself from reaching out to touch her.

Breathing heavily and overcome with emotion, Cadet Greyson finally made it back to her barracks, a room she shared with but one other cadet, the luxury of being an officer in training. To her shock her roommate, Cadet Lewis, was still awake, and by the looks of it, she had been waiting for her to get back.

“So, you're fucking the LT Colonel right? That's how you've made it to the top of the points board” Cadet Lewis hissed at her

“I... what the fuck are you talking about Lewis, I earnt my place on that board by beating the rest of you lazy fucks in the events fair and square. And what the fuck do you mean, fucking the LT. Colonel, what gives you that idea?!” In her already distressed state Greyson was finding it hard to process the accusation thrown at her by the cadet in front of her.

“Oh fuck off Greyson, don’t play dumb with me. All the cadets see the way he looks at you and how he treats you differently from the rest of us! And don't act like you weren’t just smooching up to him in the common room, I saw it all”

Greyson felt sick to her stomach, if Lewis had seen it all she could have just lost the right to be here if she decided to run her mouth. She forced herself to turn around before muttering, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Lewis”

Lewis just scoffed, “yeah right, what you think you are exempt from the rules because your daddy was in the force too? Fuck right off Greyson, you’ve got another thing coming if you think you’re gonna get away with this”

Greyson felt her stomach flip, god, the stupid cadet behind her really just pulled that card. She knew she came from an army background but she definitely was not sleeping her way to the top, no matter what the other cadets thought. But at the mention of her father, the sickness turned to anger and she rounded on Cadet Lewis, giving her the harshest glare she could muster, lips curled up in a snarl and a finger pointed in the direction of the other recruit she growled out, “You bring my fucking father into the mess that you’ve made up in that thick skull of yours and I’ll use my name to my advantage. I’m sure your family would love you to return home with Dishonorable discharge plastered all over your report, wouldn’t they?”

Greyson had to to hold back her smirk when she noticed the way the other cadet clammed up and how her face fell. Yeah that's right, bring my father into this and I’ll use it to my advantage you useless trash. And without so much as another word Greyson walked out of the room, slamming the door to their room for emphasis. She was sure almost all the recruits in the block had heard what had just transpired but she honestly couldn’t care less. She made her way out of the barracks building and towards the gym, she needed to get the tension out of her muscles and a workout would be the easiest outlet.

In her haste and far too deep within her own thoughts, Greyson failed to lift her head to see where she was going, and as she rounded the final corner that led to the gym she came to an abrupt halt, slamming into a wall, or at least that's what it felt like. It wasn't until a pair of strong hands moved to steady her did she realize she hadn’t in fact run into a wall at all, just the widest chest she’d ever felt the pleasure of being this close too. She presumed it was one of the infantry boys, they were usually in the gym this late so it would make sense. Except, as far as she knew, none of the boys had the last name  Carrillo.

[anavakarian]

Day 26: past

Ok, I have to admit that this is a very long blurt out, but I just want to see more actual conversations between these two!

Read it on AO3

It was one of those evenings, lazy, idle, early Spring, that brings scents of newborn flowers and sunlight. And especially there, in the middle of the forest, at the Warehouse. 

The rising temperatures had finally dried up the accumulated mud after the heavy winter snow and crescent light gave infinite brushstrokes of a renovated green palette. The vast majority of sprouts had reawakened already, green stems poking out everywhere, and new buds awoke back to life on the trees. But the first flowers to grow were, like always, daffodils: they had already covered the field surrounding the Warehouse with a wild layer of fluorescent yellow. 

But despite the obvious changes in temperature and climate, the weather had decided to give the last breath of its bad old habits, unleashing the most unwelcomed storm that weekend. Meaning that my plan to go to the shore with Verda and his family had been postponed, to my disappointment. But I completely understood that the lightning, thunder and the water pouring from the clouds was not the perfect frame to visit and play by the seaside with two little girls.

To top it, all my attempts of going back to my house had been frustrated by a bunch of concerned vampires that seemed to know beforehand how bad the storm would become before I was even able to hear the first raindrops falling. Now, the narrow road that led to the main one had turned into quicksands that impeded any vehicle to drive through. 

And that is how I find myself stuck in the Warehouse for another weekend with Unit Bravo. Although, this time, there are no missions, no assignments, no meetings… Nothing to do at all. 

Not that I’m complaining: it's always fun to be around Felix; Mason is… definitely caustic, although that doesn’t have to be something bad; I will be able to catch up on some research with Nate and, perhaps - and just if the stars aligned correctly - even train a little bit with Adam. Although, this time, I will try my best to not end our sparring with a heated hold against the floor, even if, since it happened, I haven’t been able to brush the whole scene from my mind at all. 

For this Friday evening, I decided to build my fortress in the library, surrounded by my ‘pending list of readings to catch up with’, feet up on the sofa, joggers, tank top, and a comforting glass of red wine. 

And it seems that ‘stubborn minds think alike’, as Adam enters the library with a book and his own glass in his hand. He sits on the opposite side of the 5 seater sofa - as far away as he can from me - without any words at all and opens the book in his lap. 

I glance at him over the pages of the ‘Fae Compendium’ I’m reading just to admire his perfect posture: both feet flat on the floor, straight back and, just for once, relaxed shoulders. My gaze lingers distractedly over the outline of his discreet Roman nose and the squared profile of his jaw before sliding down towards the broadness of his shoulders and the defined muscles of his arm, stretching the sleeve of his before-usual grey t-shirt. Cargo trousers and more military attire have been recently removed from his wardrobe and replaced by smart clothes - shirts, chinos, shoes… - more according to his rank and the peculiarities of their work in Wayhaven. Although Mason was all scorn and smirks at Adam’s noticeable change of essential clothing, Felix dropped something about him trying to impress someone… And despite Adam’s emotional constipation, I became quite aware that someone was clearly me.

He confessed that ‘I was everything’ and we held hands at the Carnival. It doesn’t seem much at all, but there’s also this insane pulling between us every time we are together. I cannot put words on it. It feels… natural. Good and right. Even if he drives me insane with his sternness and his stubbornness… Although I have to admit that I’m also guilty of the latest, too. 

But despite that magnetism or chemistry that pulls us inevitably, neither of us have made any approach effort since the Carnival. Adam… well, because he’s Adam. And me… because it feels somehow correct to wait for him to make the next move. At the end of the day, he’s the one who seems to be struggling to understand what is going on between us. My interest has been laid bare at his feet. Many times. But I’m still waiting for him to decide what he wants to do with it.

As if feeling my concealed and thoughtful stare, his icy green eyes met mine and my stomach flips at being caught. However, I lock my eyes boldly in his, even if I feel my cheeks reddening and the tips of my fingers and toes tingling with excitement. 

“D’you know…? It’s usually polite to say hello when you get into a place and find someone else there,” I tease him with a matter-of-fact tone.

Adam’s lips curl up a little bit in return. “I apologize, Detective. You looked quite immersed in the reading. I didn’t want to bother you.”

I hum noncommittally as an answer and go back to my book. And, after feeling his gaze lingering for a little longer over me, Adam goes also back to his. 

The silence feels comfortable and that is one of the things that shocks me the most about our relationship: even if the tension between us is a permanent tangible thing, I can perfectly sit with him for hours, just reading or filling out reports… when we are at ease with each other.

I shake my head, trying to stop thinking about him, and I go back to my book. 

“Fae supernaturals healing abilities are definitely better than human beings. However, the recovery time differs depending on the species and the nature of the wound. 

On the next chart, there are examples of the most common traumas in comparison with the species and the healing time for each of them…”

Shit… I like history, mythology, psychology… And can even do with some biology if necessary, but this is too much for a Friday evening. 

Twenty minutes later, my boredom is starting to win the battle. Distractedly, I run a hand through my pixie haircut, brushing the close-crop part at the back of my head. 

I have to admit that I love the raspy feeling of short hair on my fingers. 

It makes a quiet brushing sound that seems to catch Adam’s attention. I can feel, more than see, how he glances at my subtle movement over his book. 

And I meet his eyes, emerald green washing over me with intensity. 

His gaze snaps away from mine nearly immediately and there’s a rushed rustling when he turns some pages, clearing his throat. 

But I keep staring. And I’m bored. And sudden curiosity sparkles in my mind. 

I knew it before, the fact that Adam is more than 900 years old, basically because he told me. But I never got to think of the implications that it meant and I’m heavily struck by it. Like if suddenly understanding that he has actually lived, walked over the Earth, for 900 years. More than 9 human lives! 

And I’m utterly gobsmacked and even lightheaded just thinking of it. 

In less than a blink, a ton of questions pile up in my mind and itch in my tongue - history, customs, anthropology, religion… - and I decide to finally dismiss the Fae, trying to decide if I should ask them or not. And I’m sure he notices my hesitant stare by the way he shifts his weight a bit. But what really took him off his reading was my fingers tapping insistently a regular and unnerving pattern over the hard book cover in my lap.

He turns his head at me, emerald green finally meeting sapphire blue. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie. 

He gives me a condescending gaze, arching a blonde brow, and the gesture is so incredulous and yet so encouraging that it makes me speak my mind. “I was just thinking of how old you actually are…”

His eyebrows furrow nearly immediately, drawing a deep set of creases between them. Perhaps my admiration has been misunderstood under the boldness of the statement.

“I mean that you have lived for many years and over so many historical periods that I just find it difficult to understand...”

“What is it difficult to understand?” His words are spare and his tone, stern, although there’s a hint of honest curiosity behind them, encouraging the conversation despite his frown. 

Speaking to Adam is like feeding a stray cat: you never know exactly when you’re overstepping your proximity, although I’m fully aware that he enjoys some old good snarky comments and clever retorts sometimes… But they can also scare him away in the blink of an eye. 

“How are you still sane, for instance?” I declare with a shrug, the Fae book resting in my lap, open awkwardly, forcing its spine. 

It’s obvious that my question takes him completely off-guard. After some silent seconds, analyzing the teasing and the meaning of it, Adam chuckles quietly. “That’s a very good question, indeed… Sometimes I ask myself that same exact thing.”

It seems that I passed the test. For now. 

“It’s just… I can’t wrap my mind around it. Nearly 1000 years are loads of years!”

“They are, trust me. I’m well aware of it.”

I can’t avoid the feeling that he’s mocking me now or being sincere. It is difficult to tell when his expression is so serious most of the time.  “How were things? When you were human, I mean…”

His expression suddenly changes: from a thin friendly grin to pursed lips. Adam examines me with a critical eye before speaking. “Are you going to turn this evening into a personal interrogation, Detective?” His words are laced with reluctancy but it doesn’t take me by surprise. 

I asked something too personal. I stepped too far.

However, he hasn’t retrieved just yet the book that he had left closed over his thighs, which means he might be keen on carrying on talking.

I try to solve the situation, swiftly explaining my intentions, giving him an honest look back. “I’m not asking you about the specifics of your life, but about the world around you, if that makes sense?” 

“And why would I do that?”

Curiosity underlays his words and I use it on my behalf. “Because you can ask me anything you want in return?”

He breathes in deeply, considering, still eyeing me carefully as if he was about to sign a contract with the devil himself. 

I am nearly losing my hopes that he would offer himself for that little game when Adam nods, closing his book and putting it aside on the coffee table, retrieving his glass of wine. Then, he bends his leg and rests it on the sofa, shifting his whole body to face me. 

He looks… relaxed. Younger with no traces of a frown or his usual stern expression. At ease as I’ve never seen him before. And devilishly handsome.

A rush of nervousness jolts in my body and I completely forget what I wanted to ask, realizing - despite all the odds - how deeply I’m falling for that man. The sudden desire of reaching out for him and tracing his perfectly chiselled jawline with my fingers overwhelms me for an instant. 

But that would be too much. It would be stepping too far, again. 

Whatever battle he is dealing with himself about us, Adam is the only one who can solve it, and I don’t mind waiting. 

Although I don’t fully understand what is going on in his mind.

“If we are going to do this, you’ll have to be more specific, Detective: I cannot tell you everything about the Early Middle Ages…”

I don’t wait for him to finish the sentence, closing my book and putting it aside as well. “How was life? How were the living conditions?” I ask with eagerness.

He scoffs. “That’s far away from being more specific...” However, he quietens and thinks for some seconds. “Life was… tough. And brief, but intense. And dirty. Death was as ordinary as breathing. People died. Illness, famishing, wars… Many of us were lucky to survive our childhood. The culture was kept locked in the monasteries and life was impossible to conceive without religion. Nobility fought against each other for more land, vassals or resources… that was everyday life.”

I retrieve my glass of wine from the table, rolling the stem in my fingers distractedly. “You’re painting it very bad…”

“It was very bad. They are not called the Dark Ages in vain.”

“Did you only live in Normandy?”

“Mostly. Except when my family got involved in wars of vassalage agreements with the feudal lord or the king. But I would rather not talk about it.”  

That is clearly my cue to drop the topic, but I am just curious about one last thing. “Ok, can you indulge me with this one? I guess that you belonged to some sort of nobility back then… Did you? Did you have a castle?”

The tips of his lips curve up on a soft grin. “Minor nobility. And yes, we did have a castle.”

“Well… that explains so many things… Like why you boss everyone around, for example.”

My comment makes him chuckle and I’m delighted to hear the sound, rich and warm. The fleeting view of dimples made me smile in return, trying to take in as much as I can of it. 

But I’ve got many more questions to be answered. Honest historical curiosity. “Did the system work back then? Feudalism?” 

“I suppose it depends on who you ask. It obviously worked for the feudal lord, but trust me that the vassals and the peasants had a very different opinion about it. The wealth and the land belonged to the lord, as books say. And they only responded to the king. Peasants had many taxes to pay. Most of them were paid in kind, as they didn’t have anything else to pay with. That led to hunger, and hunger led to war and death.”

“It is not an optimistic point of view at all…”

“It was what it was.”

“When did things start to change?”

“Believe it or not, when religion started to ease its grip over everything and education and science made their appearance. During the whole Middle Ages, the culture was based and contained in monasteries. Normal people didn’t have any sort of education and mostly everyone was illiterate, including some nobility, too…”

Curiosity strikes me and I can’t help but interrupt him. “Were you one of them?”

Adam gives me a chiding look. “No, I was not. My family took our education very seriously. But as I was saying, things began to change when knowledge started to be more accessible to everyone. It was still mostly reserved for wealthy statements of society and nobility, but it made a whole difference after some years.”

I nod my head, sipping from my wine and he mirrors my gesture. Questions blurt in my mind: now I know he had siblings for sure, so I file the information up in my brain for another occasion, perhaps.

“Is our current government system better?” 

“Definitely, although many things can still be improved. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, I mean… I think our system is quite unfair and wealth and power are still very badly distributed, but I haven’t known anything else. Obviously, you have a wider perspective of how things have changed or improved.” 

His seriousness turns into a very thin smile, but there’s a mischievous tone underlying his question. “Are you agreeing with me for once?”

“Oy, I agree with you more than often,” I say, faking indignant, making him arch an incredulous brow. 

“Anyway, there are still many places that have a close-to-feudal government system and I will give you that, even in ours, the power and wealth are not fairly distributed, yet. But I suppose it’s a matter of time. Probably a long time.”

I nod my head with the certainty that, unless anything changes, I won’t be alive to appreciate the expected changes. But a new line of questioning bursts in my mind. “Have you been to any of those countries?” I ask, suddenly curious about his own experiences over 900 years.

Adam shifts again on the sofa, leaning his side on the back of it, and his top stretches gracefully over his tightened biceps. “No, Not recently. Our last assignment took us to different areas of South America, where some countries still have a ‘curious’ political situation.”

“Wow… You must have travelled quite a lot in 900 years…” It was not a question but a statement.

“Yes, I have. What about you?”

His question takes me by surprise. At this point, my human life seems too boring and far too mundane to have any interest at all. My brain stammers in finding a proper answer to it. “I… I don’t know. Well, yes, of course, I know. Not as much as I would have liked to, I suppose.” 

I am fully aware of the vagueness of my answer by the way he quirks his eyebrow at me, demanding more information.

“I wasn’t very specific, was I?” I ask, scrunching my nose. I don’t have to wait for his answer to carry on. “Ok, I went to uni, I got pissed when Rebecca pulled back my application for the FBI and I put everything on standby. I got a backpack and I set off to Europe. I was ‘on the run’ for two years, but that’s why I babble in so many languages. Do you speak any languages?”

Adam purses his lips and I see a flick of embarrassment on his features. “Latin, English and French… Only because I learnt them when I was a child,” he confesses. 

“How so? I had very high language expectations for a person that has lived over 900 years…” I tease him.

I find it quite funny the way he tries to explain himself. “Well… French and English have changed considerably since Medieval times… French had been quite important for many centuries. Back in time, more than half of Europe spoke French. And then English grew up to be the trade language: there was no need to learn anything else at all...”

“Fair point, I suppose…” I have to admit. “Or perhaps you were just being a bit lazy…?”

His smile widens. “I suppose you can also put it that way… I’m not… gifted for languages,” Adam admits, to my surprise. But before I can tease him further, he puts me under the spotlight, once again. “Where did you live? When you travelled to Europe, I mean.”

His interest seems genuine and it encourages my explanations and makes me a bit nervous, indeed. “Florence and Rome in Italy, suburbs of Paris, Berlin, Barcelona and Santander in Spain, London, of course, Budapest for a little while, although the language was too much for me…”

There’s a shine of admiration in his emerald eyes. And curiosity. “That’s quite a long journey for just two years.”

“It was… I quite enjoyed it: meeting new people, getting to know every secret and hidden corner of the cities… I didn’t do bad: I usually shared accommodation and worked in many crappy places.” I smile melancholically at the memory. “Rebecca also financed part of the trip, trying to buy my forgiveness. I suppose she felt guilty for ruining my expectations within the FBI...”

Even if my tone is easy, there’s still a sharp bitterness lacing my words and Adam notices it. He knows how bad the relationship with Agent Greene is. And, unlike Nate and Felix, I do really appreciate the fact that he has never tried to fix it, probably understanding the harm done and the fact that it was not his business at all.

“You clearly liked that life, why to come back here?”

I sigh with deep resignation. “I wish I could have stayed travelling… One day she turned the tap off. I survived for some months, but my income was not good enough and, sadly, my studies were quite criminology/psychology orientated to begin a brand new career in a different country.”

“But why come back here, to Wayhaven? You could have gone anywhere else.”

I chuckle bitterly. “Come back here was the last thing on my list, trust me: it was not in my plans at all. But they offered me the job and the promotion right after on a silver platter. An easy and shooting career, I have to admit. Not many people get to be a detective in less than a year. Of course Rebecca had something to do with it, but who cared at that point.”

Adam hums quietly, meditative. “I have to admit that, after having worked with you for some time, you are fairly competent as a detective.”

Wow, is that a compliment? Coming from him? About my skills as a detective? 

His face is totally serious and I’m secretly glad that we are past the stage when we headbutted each other every day about our leadership disagreements. “Thank you, I suppose. It means quite a lot, coming from you and I do really appreciate it. Anyway, it’s my turn again. What is your craziest story about travelling?” I enquiry, sipping some wine.

“Are we talking about missions with the Agency?”

“No, not really. Something curious, funny or unusual… I don’t know. Whatever!” 

Adam thinks for a little while, emptying his glass in the process and I give him some time for it. Definitely, 900 years are many years to think about. 

“I think it was travelling the Silk Road little after its popularity grew within the West of Europe… It had been quite popular for some centuries already in Byzantium, but I think I must have been one of the first travellers from the Northern regions… Probably the palest person no one had ever seen there, or that’s what I deduced by the way everyone treated me. Once we arrived in Asia… It was quite common that people stopped me to touch my hair or my face as if they couldn’t believe I was real… Obviously, my features were quite different from the people that lived there… Probably they hadn’t seen anyone so white before...”

I can’t help but snicker at his words, picturing the situation like something taken from a film. “Well, it is true that you’re really pale. Perhaps a sunbathe from time to time would help with that…” my brain supplies, all witty.

He gives me a chiding look, one eyebrow arched up. “I wish it was that easy but trust me, it doesn’t work that way at all, Eve...”

My name sounds warm and sweet like honey on his lips and a thrill of pleasure runs down my spine thinking of him calling my name in many very different contexts, probably with fewer clothes involved. 

“That’s a shame… I’m sure it would be quite a sight,” I return, flirty and mischievous. 

Damn it! Sometimes I can’t just help it… But, to my surprise, Adam meets my gaze with a rather playful smirk and seems about to retort something back to me. 

But, suddenly, his expression turns grave and he quietens, whatever he was about to say dying in his lips. 

Perhaps it’s better not to pursue that line of conversation anymore. 

I hear some steps on the corridor, even and unhurried. They stop in front of the library door and I turn my gaze to it, expecting Nate’s tall figure to come inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I perceive how Adam stiffens, still looking at me, but I’m sure he’s listening carefully to whoever is in the corridor. After some seconds, the steps resume, getting further away from us and he seems to relax again.

I won’t be surprised if he decides we had enough conversation already but, to my amazement, he adjusts his position on the sofa and waits for me to carry on with my interrogation, an encouraging calm expression on his face. 

And I have to admit that I blank for some seconds, not knowing what to ask to keep him talking on the most friendly and intimate moment we have shared since we met. “What’s the best part of these times? What do you like the most?”

“Do you mean from this age?”

I just nod my head, eager to know his answer. 

“Many things, I suppose… Water supply, medical advances, hygiene, the Internet, phones, flushable private toilets, cars…”

“Toilets?” I am a bit puzzled before understanding that toilets were actually quite different not many years ago. “Oh… ah! Fair enough.”

Adam gazes at me and offers me an amused tiny smile but I’m already interested in something else he said before. “Was it difficult to learn driving?”

His chest lowers in a contained sarcastic scoff and he rolls his eyes. I love the gesture immediately. “An odyssey at first, but I grew to like it. Nate is the only one who is still working on it.”

“I know he’s not very keen on any sort of technology… Last time I texted him it took him 12 min to type a reply... He told me you like cars.”

“Not the actual cars, but I like restoring and repairing them.”

His statement leaves me open-mouthed, as in my narrowed mind it’s quite hard to believe than a 900 years old vampire could remotely be able to understand the mechanics of a car. “Hang on… Do you actually know how to repair a car?”

For a parted moment, Adam feels quite pleased with himself. “Is it that surprising? I had to invest properly the time I didn’t use for learning languages...”

I gaze at his face, confused. His expression is soft but serious, however, there’s again that hint of sarcasm in his beautiful green eyes. “You know what? It’s very difficult to know when you are joking when your expression is exactly the same one than when we are arguing, you know?” I tease him, faking indignant. 

He chuckles again and I melt with the sound. 

I don’t want this evening to end. This conversation to end. Us. 

“Perhaps you can give me a hand with mine, then?” I ask, hopeful. 

But Adam just shakes his head. “I fix cars, but I don’t do miracles, Eve. Your car... I think buying a new one would be advisable in your case”

I shoot him a glare at his snarky comment but I’m happy to see that he’s openly smiling at me. 

“Do you have any hobbies? What do you do when you’re not at the police station or working with us?” he wants to know.

Another question enquiring about me. I empty my glass and put it on the side table, realizing how green and clear his eyes are and how at ease he seems to be right now. Probably the distance between us has something to do with it (we are still sitting on opposite sides of the sofa). “Not that I had much time lately, but working out, writing, playing the guitar… But I’m sure you know that last one already.”

He hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t seem content with just one question. His next one is actually quite deep. “Do you regret knowing about us? Not just the Unit. Knowing about supernaturals’ existence?”

I divert my gaze from his and lean back on the arm of the sofa, wiggling my toes extended in front of me. It still takes me a long deep breath in to put my thoughts together to reply to his question, knowing I’m stepping on thin ice. “I did at first.”

Adam lowers his gaze. A quick scene of one of our conversations right after I was informed about everything flashes in my mind. He called himself a monster and I didn’t do anything to contradict the statement. I was not in the correct mindset, neither ready to see the truth. Embarrassment at my doing seeps through every pore of my skin. “But I don’t anymore. Learning the truth hasn’t been easy, but I wouldn’t change it at all. I’m quite glad to be part of it with you.” 

His eyes dart to mine with a mixture of gratitude and alarm at my confession and I don’t really want to, but I explain myself further. “With all of you, Unit Bravo.”

But specifically you. 

As he relaxes again, I decide to push my luck further. “Adam… I always wanted to ask you this but I will understand if you don’t want to answer. Did you keep in touch with your family after… You know… Becoming a vampire?” 

Deep old sadness dampens his green eyes that flicker to the wall behind me and I’m nearly sure he won’t reply. He seems to be lost in memories for some seconds before meeting my gaze again.  “I did at first. I was not ready to assume what happened to me. I was in denial.” 

“Was it not compatible? To be with your family, I mean...”

He smiles again but this time is quite different. Guilty and melancholic. “Not for a young vampire. Not at all. I had to leave...”

I regret bringing up the topic immediately because I don’t want to know about it. Not if it hurts him. Not if he is not ready. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you recall painful memories. I understand that if you love someone you are never ready to let go…”

“I tracked my descendants for some generations, but their lives were fleeting. Mortal lives still are sometimes. It became more and more difficult within the years. The loss…”

“So you just shut down…” I mutter, suddenly understanding.

Adam stares at me with glazed green eyes under blonde eyelashes, looking at me but without seeing me, lost in memories. And it all made sense now. All of him. 

The only way he has been able to survive has been closing himself to any feeling. Switching off that part of his humanity that cared about anyone else. And that is why he’s so disturbed around me. Because I break his defences and remind him of everything he has lost. 

The fact that he has feelings for me breaks the balance that his life has had for nearly a thousand years and he is completely lost on what to do about it. 

About me. About us.

He just doesn’t want to lose me.

And there’s just one way he wouldn’t have to.

“Are you all right?” I ask, shyly and guilty.

“Yes. I am,” he states after a sharp inhale, retrieving his book from the table. 

“I’m going to have dinner with Nate, would you like to join us?”

“No, thank you. I’ll carry on with my reading, Detective.”

Our conversation is clearly over and I smile sadly at the recovered title, my name forbidden on his lips once again. 

“Thank you,” I say while standing up.

“What for?”

“For talking to me. For letting me know you.”

Adam doesn’t reply, but I swear I can see the quirk of a smile blooming on his lips when he looks at me. 

When I walk past him, my hand lands on his broad shoulder and I feel him stiffen at the contact, all hard muscle and warmth under my touch. I give him a grateful squeeze. 

My heart stutters and my breath hitches when his own hand covers mine, interlacing our fingers loosely for just some seconds. 

“Thank you for understanding,” he hushed whispers before I resume my steps.

@31daysofwayhaven

[btshogwartsfics]

Fortune’s Fool

Summary: In a surprising turn of events, Min Yoongi requests your help in his hunt for the perfect Christmas gift. *Continuation of Series of Fortunate Events 

Pairing: Yoongi x Ravenclaw!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k 

A/N: Hey, guys! Look I know this is very late, but I just wrote this up today because I didn’t want to leave you guys without anything for Christmas! (So please excuse any errors or mistakes as I’m sure there are plenty. I will edit it tomorrow but I can’t do it right this minute! I’m sorry!) This is a spur of the moment continuation of Series of Fortunate Events, taking place in the same universe. It’s honestly a Christmas miracle I got this done before today was done, so I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think! I know I promised a Jimin fic, but that’s still in the making, so I hope you guys understand! I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and will have a happy holidays!

Side note, this was actually supposed to be a much shorter drabble for the prompt “Are you sure it’s illegal to kill carolers?” <333

It’s with light steps that you carry yourself to the library today. Heading straight to your usual spot, you pull your scarf up further to cover your neck. Being that you’re about halfway into December by now, the castle has gotten much colder. Still, you trudge back to your small corner, rubbing your hands together for extra warmth.

The library is fairly empty today, more so than what’s normal at the least. This is more than likely due to all the students running amok trying to find some last minute Christmas presents before the train to King’s Cross that will take the majority of them home arrives this weekend. You, having bought your small share of gifts in October, thankfully don’t share the same problem.

You count off the last bookshelf before your cozy corner comes into view.

Some might say it looks lonely back here and maybe they’re right, but it doesn’t bother you as much as it probably should. You don’t have anyone to fill the void in the first place, so you tend not to imagine how much better it would be if you did. It won’t do you any good, anyway.

As you set all your study materials out and spread your homework across the tiny desk by the window, you can’t stop your eyes from drifting behind you.

It hasn’t been much longer than two weeks since you caught Yoongi and his two friends -you’ve come to learn their names are Hoseok and Namjoon- planning out the details of a surprise party for a fourth person there in that exact spot. That was also the first time you had ever spoken to him, if you can even call what you did speaking. It more like the first time Yoongi had ever spoken to you while you just gaped at him like a fish out of water.

You cringe inwardly upon remembering how you had just stared at him like he were some sort of madman. Definitely not your finest moment. Still, you haven’t spoken to him since the day he cornered you at Seokjin’s party. The only time he’s even so much as acknowledged your presence was in the halls in between classes. If you’re telling the truth, you had actually hoped to at least perhaps see him in the library, but he hasn’t been back here since then, either. You’d thought that after the party you two could maybe start a friendship of a sort, but it seems he had other ideas.

Shaking the dull thoughts from your head, you turn back to your unfinished work and set about completing it. Luckily for you, you had read up on the new defensive spells for Defense earlier this year and it didn’t take long before you were packing your things back up. Glancing around you, you debated if checking out your favorite book for the seventh time would be too excessive. However, you weren’t given long to think it over before an unfamiliar bag was thrown carelessly onto the desk you were sitting at.

Glancing up at the sudden intrusion, you came face-to-face with the last person you expected to see here.

“I need your help,” Yoongi announces without hesitation, his black bangs falling flat against his forehead and into his eyes.

Your eyebrow arches in instinct, curiosity already prickling at your mind. “W-with what?” You stutter, deciding against beating around the bush. You hate small talk, anyway.

“I-” He starts, but his words seem to get caught in his throat and he can’t finish. He takes a moment to calm himself and stares back at you with those eyes that remind you strangely of chocolate for how detached they normally seem. “I need help Chris… sh… ping…”

You frown, trying to decipher his words which were said under a quiet breath. “S-sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Yoongi sighs and takes a deep breath. “I need your help Christmas shopping.” He says with difficulty, eyes no longer coming up to meet yours. Instead, they’re latched onto his bag, refusing to catch your stare.

You open your mouth to ask another question but close it before you can voice it. Casting a quick glance over Yoongi, you easily deduce that more questions would probably only make him more uncomfortable than he already is. It’s clear from everything to his expression to his posture that even asking for your help was possibly a challenge for him. The last thing you want to do is scare him off now, so you nod silently to yourself, not bothering to seek his eyes.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” You repeat, watching as his face slowly tilts up to look at you. Forcing down a smile at how suspiciously he regards you, you shove your hands into your pockets. “I’ll help you Christmas shop.”

He blinks. Once, twice. “You will? Just like that? No questions, no conditions?”

You shake your head with a shrug. “Not really. I mean, I don’t know when we’ll go considering the train comes this weekend, but… no, not really.”

Yoongi looks you up and down for a few more moments, but eventually, he nods in confirmation. “Well the train for Hogsmeade is open all week for Christmas shopping, so we can go there whenever you’re free.”

“I’m always free.” You blurt without thinking. You cringe at your bluntness, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind.

“When do you have your free period?” He asks without missing a beat.

“Uh, my last period is my free period.” You reply, your mind whirling from the way your conversation seems to come naturally, jumping from topic to topic.

“Great, then I’ll skip last period and we can go then.”

“What! You can’t just skip a whole period to go Christmas shopping!”

“Why not?” His eyebrows furrow and his lip juts out into a small pout which, much to your dismay, makes him look absolutely adorable. “I have Potions and Slughorn loves me. He won’t miss me for one class.”

You eye him cautiously, weighing your options. On one hand, it’d be great to spend that time with him so that you can finally work on making a friend. On the other hand, if someone catches Yoongi sneaking onto the train, that could mean detention or worse for both of you.

Yoongi heaves another sigh and reaches for his bag. “Look, if you don’t wanna go, that’s fine. I can do it myself.”

“No, wait!” You cry, reaching out to stop him from leaving. His eyes fall to where your hand is clamped around his wrist and you drop it quickly, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear. “Uh, I’ll go, but if you get caught, I’m not getting detention for that.”

The Slytherin in front of you barks out a small laugh as if you’d said something funny. “Okay, deal.”

“Deal.”

Silence stretches out between you for a series of seconds and you contemplate if reaching out for a handshake would be overstepping your boundaries. In the midst of your doubts, a throat clears and you look up to see Yoongi has beat you to the punch, his hand outstretched for you to shake.

Your eyes fly between his hand and his face for a moment, and Yoongi rolls his eyes. “It’s a handshake, not a death sentence.”

With a start, you take his hand and shake it firmly. Retracting it, you adjust your bag on your shoulder and the air around you seems to thicken. “So, uh, tomorrow, then?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue in response. “Tomorrow.” He confirms with a nod. “Be on the train at around five-ten. It leaves when the last classes start so we’ll have about five minutes to find a compartment.”

“Got it.”

Again you fall quiet and Yoongi takes this as his cue to leave. “Right, uh, see you then.”

“Yep.”

The boy leaves without any more input, not bothering to wave goodbye before he’s off. You wait about two minutes after he’s gone to finally let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

The next day you’re stumbling as you race to the train to Hogsmeade. It’s currently five-thirteen and you’re wondering if maybe you and Yoongi had overestimated exactly how fast you’d be able to get there. Shuffling your way to the train and weighed down by all the layers you’d worn, you probably look more like an overgrown penguin than a human at this point.

You’re heaving when you finally board and you immediately see Yoongi at the end of the hall, looking around for his late companion. The train is practically empty save for the few students who managed to get enough free time to go at this hour. Well at least finding an empty compartment won’t be too much of a problem.

��Yoongi!” You call, waving your hand in a wild gesture.

He notices you instantly and his eyes rake all the way down your body, an eyebrow raised. “Why do you look you’re wearing an oversized Santa costume?”

You huff in exasperation as you walk past him and into an empty compartment. “It’s freezing outside and I get cold easily.” You explain with a tiny pout.

Yoongi scoffs, but you swear there’s a hint of a smile there somewhere. “Jesus, how many layers are you wearing?”

You ponder this for a moment, mentally counting how many layers you have under your winter coat. “Hm, four I think.”

“That’s insane.”

You roll your eyes, but turn to him to see what he’d worn for your… outing? You’re surprised to find that he’d only worn a thin t-shirt underneath his coat and a beanie. He hadn’t even brought gloves or boots. Instead, he adorns a set of beat up black converse. You begin to wonder if he planned on getting hypothermia.

“What?” He demanded after catching you staring, but for once you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed.

“You’re gonna freeze out there.” You stated simply, leveling him with one of your most serious stares.

He shrugs, unbothered. “I don’t get cold easily, so I’m fine.”

You narrow your eyes, trying your best to look unthreatening and just concerned, but you’re not sure how well that works out as Yoongi clicks his tongue and turns to stare out the window. You follow his lead and do the same from your side of the compartment. You lean your head against the cold surface and allow your eyes to fall closed. The consistent rhythm of the train lulls your brain to a soft sleep.

“Hey, hey Y/N! Wake up, we’re here.” You hear a familiar voice say, muffled slightly by your post-nap haze.

There’s a slight pressure on your shoulder, shaking you awake. You whine a bit before you pick your head up from its position against the cold window. You rub at it irritably and Yoongi bristles lightheartedly.

“You shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that. Now you’re going to have a crick in your neck all day.”  Yoongi complains from his place beside you and you stretch out your arms above your head.

“Noted.” You yawn, blinking away the sleep. When he makes no move to get up, you gesture uncertainly to the door. “Well, uh… let's go.”

“Right, uh… right.”

Making your way off the train, the two of you walk along the streets, eyes scanning the windows of the various shops. Yoongi stays a good few inches away from you at all times, but you continue to walk somewhat side by side. Clouds of condensation follow you both as you walk around, no particular destination in mind. You’re about to stop at one of the stores, but then something dawns on you.

“Who exactly are you shopping for?” You question when he dismisses yet another shop.

He spares a glance at you but then goes back to examining the line up of stores. “My parents, my brother, and my friend, Taehyung.”

You immediately recognize the name and match it to a face you remember seeing a few weeks ago. The blonde Ravenclaw boy with that boxy smile. He’s a bit younger than you two, if you had to guess you would say maybe a fifth year. You don’t know much about him, but you suppose that’s what Yoongi’s for. You’re just the idea bank.

You process the rest of what he said, letting all the information sink in. You hadn’t known he had a brother. Then again, why would you? The hard truth is that you really don’t know him that well. Maybe a bit more than most, but that’s not saying much. You don’t even know his favorite color…

“What’s your favorite color?”

“What?” He frowns, taken aback by your sudden random question. “That’s a bit out of the blue.”

“Yeah, right. Sorry. I was, uh- just wondering.” You stammer, shaking your head. You facepalm internally, chastising yourself for asking such an irrelevant question. It’s really no wonder he hadn’t talked to you sooner. You look away from Yoongi and go back to scanning the shops nearby.

It’s not until moments later that Yoongi says anything, but when he does, it elicits a small smile from you.

“...I like black.”

Almost an hour later and you and Yoongi are still walking around Hogsmeade empty-handed.

“Yoongi, I don’t even know I’m supposed to be looking for.” You bug, pointing out for the second time a key problem to this… outing. “I don’t know these people. I don’t what they are like. How am I supposed to know what to buy them?”

Yoongi drags a tired hand across his face and rubs at his eyes in frustration.

You sigh looking at him, and decide that you need a break. Garnering your courage, you reach for his wrist and drag him along with you towards The Three Broomsticks.

“What are you doing?” He mewls, sounding rather like a petulant child who hadn’t gotten what he wanted for Christmas. It’s a stark contrast from his tired appearance which compares more to a retired old man than a child.

You clear your throat before speaking, telling yourself that taking a minute to sit down will be beneficial for both of you. “Come on, you need a break. Let’s get a butterbeer or something. It won’t do any good if you just brood the whole time.”

From your peripheral vision, you can see Yoongi eyeing you curiously, probably wondering where your sudden burst of bravery came from. Truth be told, you’d like to know the same thing. But alas, some questions are just destined to remain unanswered.

“Fine.” He mumbles under his breath and you force down a grin at the cuteness of it that probably wasn’t intended.

The bell chimes above you as you enter, greedily taking in the warmth from the nearby fireplace. One of the few waiters dashes over to seat the two of you, leading you to a rather isolated table near the back.

As you sit, you begin to warm up and shed your coat and scarf. After a while, even your gloves are discarded onto the table. You both order your respective butterbeers and silence envelopes your hidden corner. The confidence from earlier seems to disappear and you’re left avoiding eye contact like you’re a first year with a crush. 

“So…” Yoongi starts after an extended awkward silence. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hm?” You turn to face him, your eyes wide and expectant.

Yoongi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not liking to repeat himself. “Well since you asked me, I just thought I’d ask, but it doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

“Blue.” You answer, gesturing to your Ravenclaw scarf. “I like blue.”

He nods, offering you a hesitant lift of his lips. You try to return it in kind, but it just comes across awkward. You huff and decide that this isn’t working.

“Do you wanna play a game?”

“A game?”

“Yeah, why not?” You question, hoping that being direct will work a bit better than staring out the window as if you were here by yourself. “It can help us pass the time.”

“What kind of game?”

“Uh, maybe like, a question game?”

“A question game?” He mocks, his soft features turning to a look that seems very unimpressed.

“Yeah, sure.” Suddenly you’re not so sure anymore and you really wish the floor would swallow you whole. “I mean, I don’t really know you that well and yet here I am helping you Christmas shop for people that I know even less.”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything and you think he might not even answer at all. But he just nods to himself, leaning against the table. “Okay, fair point, but I go first.”

You open your mouth to object, admittedly wanting to be the one to start off the game, but he arches an eyebrow at you and you clamp your mouth shut. Nodding mutely, he grins in satisfaction.

As he stares at you, he begins to frown. His look turns thoughtful and determined as if simply looking at you will give him all the answers.

His face scrunches up in a pout and he sighs. “This is harder than I thought.” He whines.

A laugh falls from your lips and you tuck your hair back from falling in your face. “You could ask what my favorite class is.” You supply, also at a bit of a loss.

Yoongi blanches, dumbfounded and shocked. “Really?” He presses, but the makings of a smirk play on his mouth. “Of all the questions you could’ve asked you choose that one?”

“Hey!” You protested defensively, crossing your arms over your chest. “If I had gone first I would’ve asked something different, but you had to go first so I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He chuckled lightly and glanced at the fire before looking back at you. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What’s your favorite class?”

You hum in concentration, purposefully prolonging your response. “Well, I quite like Arithmancy.”

Yoongi gapes at you incredulously. “Said absolutely no one ever.”

You scoff and shake your head. “Okay then, what’s your favorite class?”

He leans back in his chair with a smirk on his lips from teasing you. “Definitely Potions.”

“Alright, fair enough.” You concede, your first question already forming in your mind. You open your mouth to ask it, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of your drinks. Each thanking the waiter, you both take a large sip before continuing.

Wiping butterbeer off your lip, you look back to him. “So question: how come you didn’t ask one of your other friends to help you today?”

Taking a big gulp of his drink, he shrugged nonchalantly. “Are you familiar with the concept ‘Secret Santa’?”

“I’m acquainted with it, yes.”

“Well, my friends and I do this every year, but the problem is some of them can’t keep their mouth shut.” He explains, rubbing his chilled hands together. You give him an ‘I-told-you-so’ look, but he just rolls his eyes. “So in order to keep all the gifts and ‘Santas’ an actual secret, we decided not to tell each other anything at all.”

Understanding dawns and you snap your fingers. “Meaning you can’t shop together if you don’t want your gift spoiled.”

“Precisely.”

“Well, do you have any idea what Taehyung would want for Christmas?”

“Not really.” His smile fell slightly and you missed it instantly, craving back the warmth it brought that seemed to work better than both the fireplace and the butterbeer combined. “My first thought was to go to Zonko’s, but he practically owns two of everything from that store. There’s nothing in there that he doesn’t already have.”

You hummed in reply, racking your mind for anything that could help you place him. “So you’re saying he’s a bit…” You searched your mind for the right word. “...troublesome.”

“A bit?” Yoongi laughed, somehow adding in a hint of spite partnered with a sort of fondness you didn’t know was capable at the same time. “Last month he let three nifflers loose in the castle and got himself detention for three weeks.”

You gasped, a laugh on the tip of your tongue. “So he’s the one who did that!” You allowed yourself a chuckle, finding you feeling rather relaxed in the presence of another person for once. “There was a whole debate in the common room last month. To be honest, most of us thought it was a Gryffindor.”

“At times I swear he might as well be.” Yoongi jokes, but he can’t hide the smile that paints his face. It solicits one from you as well because you swear his smile is more contagious than any sickness you’ve ever had.

“I don’t know.” You declare, matter-of-factly. “I’m sure there’s a reason the sorting hat put him in Ravenclaw.” You jest, surprising even yourself at how easy it is to talk to him. Conversation just seems to roll off your tongue, something that’s never happened before in all your seven years at Hogwarts. “You never know, maybe he’s a true genius.”

Yoongi laughs, his eyes not leaving yours. You find it hard to look away, but eventually, embarrassment gets to you and you blush, diverting your eyes back to your drink. “...maybe.”

You tug gently at the sleeve of your sweater, your mind racing to find something helpful to say. After all, you still had four people to shop for and the day is already dwindling. There’s a thought at the back of your mind, struggling to be heard and you fight to remember it.

Concentrating on the thought you refuse to let escape you, you gasp as it suddenly comes to you. You snap your head up to tell Yoongi but stop short at the sight that greets you.

Min Yoongi, notorious for his cold stares and hard attitude, who most people claim is off-putting at best, stares at you curiously with a mustache on his upper lip, made entirely of foam.

Your hand flies to cover your mouth, struggling to hold back your laughter. It looks so out of place on his usually stoic face that it almost causes you to slip. However, your facade finally cracks when he pouts, clearly in utter confusion as to why you’re acting the way you are.

Yoongi just waits for you to calm down, still having not noticed it yet. As you gasp for breath, you try hard to point to your lip. “Your-your face…”

His eyebrows furrow and a single finger goes cautiously to his lips. His eyes widen in realization as his finger meets the offending foam and his wipes at it furiously with his coat that he never removed.

“What-What were you gonna say?” He mumbles as your breathing settles down finally.

“Well, I think I know what you should get Taehyung for Christmas.” You smile, truthfully quite proud of your idea.

“What?”

“So there’s this book I saw at the bookstore a few weekends ago-“

“Taehyung doesn’t read much.” Yoongi interrupts, causing you to pout.

“Just let me finish.” You shoot back, and he sighs, gesturing for you to continue.

“I saw this book and I think, based off what I’ve heard, that he’d really appreciate its context.”

“What is it called?”

You smirk to yourself, hoping you’re not wrong. “101 Best Wizarding Pranks for Dummies.”

It’s quiet for only a second before Yoongi erupts into a fit of laughter. It’s loud and choppy, but you think that given the chance, you could listen to it all day. You smile to yourself, for the umpteenth time that days, something very uncommon for you. But you find you don’t really mind. It’s a nice change.

“That’s perfect!” Yoongi snickers, holding onto his side in an effort to ease the pain there. “You have to tell me where you found it! He has to have that.”

And you do exactly that. After finishing your drinks and splitting the bill, you walk Yoongi to the bookstore where you saw the item in question. After a bit more wandering around, Yoongi insists you two go back to the castle and you spend the rest of the train ride back finishing your game.

It’s Friday and you’re running around Hogsmeade in a worried frenzy.

The train is leaving tomorrow and you’ll be home for the holidays, but you refuse to leave until you’ve gotten the last gift you need. Counting the shops as you pass, you finally find the one you’re looking for, going in without any pretense.

“Hello, ma’am!” The shopkeepers carols merrily. “Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“Do you happen to keep a set of black winter accessories?” You ask, only partly out of breath from dashing across the ice before the store closes. “Namely, boots, gloves and scarves?”

The keeper looks slightly taken aback by your abruptness. “Yes, we have one each of them in our winter department.”

You smile, thankful you’d gotten there just in time. “Great! I’ll take them.”

The smell of oil pricks at our nose, causing you to wrinkle it from the strength of the fume. A chill curls up your spine and you burrow further into your coat.

You’re sitting in an overcrowded compartment with several students you don’t recognize on your way to King’s Cross. The train is filled with chatter as people wait for the doors to open so they can go home to their families.

Holding our breath, you send up a prayer that you’ll be able to catch him before he’s gone.

Exiting your compartment, you immediately look around for Yoongi, clutching the wrapped present in the gift bag you have at your side. You hope he likes them, seeing as you hadn’t had much time to think up a more suitable gift.

Thinking back to your outing -was it really an outing?- with Yoongi, he’d come to regret not bringing any gloves or more layers to bundle in. The snow was layering more thickly now than it had been a few days ago and you think that if anything, he could at least put them to use. 

You shiver again as the wind whistles in your ears, the sound mixing with that of the group of carolers that stand nearby. They sing in tune and to each, creating a beautiful harmony to the soft Silent Night. You’re head snaps back and forth as you continue to look for a certain Slytherin when suddenly a more sickly thought comes to mind. 

What if he doesn’t want it? What if he just plain refuses it before you can give it to him? What if he rejects your friendship before it even truly begins?

As you begin to lose yourself in worry, a voice you’ve come to recognize in any crowd calls out for you. Turning to face who had called your name, you’re shocked to see Yoongi himself attempting to squeeze his way through the band of students hurrying to meet their loved ones.

Surprise stuns you into silence, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice as he closes the big space between you. “Uh, hey, Y/N.”

“Yoongi,” you stutter, at a complete loss for words, your large vocabulary seeming to fail you. “Hi.”

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you regard each other quietly. The air that was just sharp and cool, seems to turn heavy the longer you remain silent but words cannot find you. The only sound to enter your ears is that of the carolers singing their songs. 

Yoongi suddenly sighs, a drawn out, tired sigh that one would associate with carrying a heavy burden on their shoulders. “You think it’s illegal to kill carolers?”

His attempt to lighten the mood works and a light laugh falls from your lips. “I think it’s safe to say it is.” You quip and Yoongi shakes his head as if he’d just been given some news he hadn’t wanted. You smile at him shyly, wondering why he’ d come to talk to you. “What are you doing here?”

Instead of replying, the raven-haired boy merely shrugs, raising his left hand to reveal an ornately wrapped box, topped nicely with an intricate bow. Your mouth falls open and your eyes lift up to meet his. You blink, trying hard not to stare.

It’s not until you spot the remnant of a blush dusting his pale cheeks do you mirror his actions to do the same, not quite trusting your words to do you justice at the moment. Yoongi’s eyes widen as he regards your large gift bag, chocolate orbs meeting yours in the middle. You can see yourself them, nervous and uncertain, and you swear you’ve never been happier in your life.

“Uh,” You murmur bashfully, struggling not to choke on your words. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

You extend the bag out towards him and his takes it with a soft touch; light and careful. He looks it over for a few moments before handing his box over to you. You take it in much the same manner, being cautious so as not to jostle it around too much.

Yoongi offers you a smile and it’s warm and soft, just like his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You depart that day with lighter steps and happier sighs. Your mother comments on ‘the boy you were talking to’ when you get home, your dad grumbling about how glossy your eyes look today. You just shake your head at them, tucking Yoongi’s present under your Christmas tree, keeping your eye on it every day until the twenty-fifth.

It’s a blue sweater. Expensive and warm and cozy and exactly what you’d wanted for Christmas. There was a single note attached to it, the lone ‘thank you’ written in perfect calligraphy, his signature at the bottom.

You made a mental note to thank him the next time you see him, seeing as you didn’t have his address to send an owl or his number to make a call.

You wore that exact sweater the day you boarded the train to go back to Hogwarts. You caught sight of him as you found a mostly empty compartment. He was surrounded with his ragtag group of friends so you didn’t bother to address him, but you couldn’t help the beaming smile on your face when you saw him dressed to the nines in all the new things you’d given him for Christmas.

As always, he seemed to sense your stare, because his eyes catch yours and he gifts you a smile that put all the Christmas lights and tree toppers you’ve seen this season to shame.