#during our first reunion i expected him to avoid me cause he never replied to my text messages but he came up to me and hugged me so tight

[prettyincubus]

thinking about my hs school crush and he was sm like blitz gkdks doing the whole routine of i like you but i will not admit it but i will occasionally be soft with you and show u an intimate side of me no one else gets to see but also i hate you but also dont leave me and let me be romantic but also do not take pictures of me i dont want you to have pictures of me but also sorry for deleting that picture of me ill pose for one if it makes you happy but dont tell anyone and i ate it up like i was addicted

[aomineavenue]

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 006. dinner disaster

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ confessions | dinner disaster | realizations  ↪

mia’s note(s): 

can you find the easter eggs in here? 

i am sorry, i am not very fond of this chapter lmao i told you guys im bad at writing that isn’t angst man 

i hope you guys enjoy anyway, lemme know what you guys think!! and tell me if you find the easter eggs mwa mwa

You nod eagerly as you shut the menu in your grip, completely ignoring Reiji’s protests from beside you as the rest of the individuals seated around the table either watch in amusement or curiosity. “I believe there is always a three special course meal that changes every day according to the chef, we’d absolutely love that.”

At the sight of Reiji’s features scrunched up in horror, you inwardly squealed in victory. 

Years have flown by, you’re both practically strangers at this point. Yes, strangers. Just two strangers who know every shameful secret, every hidden freckle, and even every fatal flaw in each other. Who were you kidding anyway? Six years have gone by just like that, but you knew it yourself, deep down that you still strongly cared for the man that now stood before you, his eyes the only thing you could focus on, not even the soft chatter of the other guests or the soft instrumental melody produced by the restaurant’s speakers could capture your attention and disrupt your thoughts. Mesmerized, that is what you are. What even. 

It has been six years and to this day, he still completely steals your breath away. 

Not that it should surprise you or anything. Despite everything, how he had hurt you back when you were both 17 and in your second year in senior high school back in 2013, or the hurtful words that spilled from his mouth from the running emotions that day back at the sports complex when the truth revealed itself, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him or even be angry. You’ve thought of this a billion times since you left Hyōgo. You have imagined a billion scenarios, trying your best to prepare yourself because you knew. You knew that it was inevitable to stay hidden, to keep your secret hidden. A part of you always knew you were going to meet him again. Not that your reunion was delightful or anything. It was nowhere near such. No matter how many scenarios you created in your head, it had not been enough for you to prepare for any form of response. 

You hadn’t realized it at first when you had met him on that day because of the emotions running high through your veins, but now, standing in front of him, your eyes drank him up completely. Of course, you notice the differences from six years ago. It wasn’t as if he was going to stay how he had been back then, nor was it difficult to notice the changes from the boy you used to adore. Looking at him now, it was clear as day that he had grown up from the charming boy next door to a breathtaking man that you can’t seem to tear your gaze away. 

As your name rolls off of his tongue, you snap out of your trance, blinking a couple of times. Thankfully, you suppressed your emotions quick enough from allowing the warmth that wanted to creep across your cheeks. God, how embarrassing. Did he notice you were practically devouring him with your eyes? Hopefully not. 

However, despite his handsome features, you are suddenly reminded of the last conversation that the two of you shared and it was enough for you to push your mushy thoughts to the very back of your head. Ah, right. You remembered now, before being distracted by Atsumu’s ridiculously handsome face, you were going to give Asuma and Reiji a good smack. If only you had known of this setup, you would have never agreed. Jumping back to reality, you were about to take a step back, wanting to leave the premises, only to be held back by Reiji, gripping onto your arm to stop you. 

You were cut off from your protests, Reiji moving closer to whisper in your ear with the all too familiar tone he uses on you during arguments. Before he could even finish his sentence, you already knew that the excuses you have in mind were no use. There was no room for negotiations. “Stop being stubborn and sit down. Do this for your kids. It’s not like it’s a date or anything.” 

Grumbling underneath your breath at how much of an ass he was, he only replies with a chuckle as he releases his grip on your arm, neither of you realizing the green-eyed monster’s gaze that followed the whole interaction. The two of your friends took their seats, greeting the rest of the party, while you’re left standing there before Atsumu. As you stood there face to face, you didn’t realize the two occupants around the table sharing hushed whispers amongst each other, berating each other for bringing other people along. Meeting his gaze once more, you give him a small nod, “Atsumu. Shall we then?” 

He nods, his voice cracking slightly because of his nerves, “Yeah.” 

However, as you turn to greet the rest of the party, you feel your shoulders grow tense at the realization of what your two friends did once again. They had occupied seats around the table, leaving the only available seats next to each other for you and Atsumu. If it’s one thing you hated, it was when your friends become the meddling monkeys that they are. 

Not wanting to cause a scene, you inwardly groan and occupy the seat next to Reiji, leaving the seat next to you for Atsumu. In spite of your irritation, you find yourself flashing a half-hearted smile at the three across from you. 

“Hi!” the one in the middle greets you happily with an enormous smile plastered across his face, “I’m Hinata, it’s nice to meet you.” He extends his arm across the table, holding out his hand for you to shake, which you gladly take. 

“Nice to meet you too,” you respond with a nod of your head as you release your grip from his hand, just in time to retrieve the menu that the waiter had passed throughout the group. Flipping it open, you avoid the glances from Bokuto and Osamu, who looked as if they were itching an interaction from you, but because of your irritation, you definitely didn’t want to talk to them just yet, they probably had helped your friends in setting this up. “So Hinata-san, I’m assuming you're Bokuto’s teammate?” you ask before tearing your gaze away from his to examine the menu in your hands. You don’t notice the frown that briefly appeared on Atsumu’s lips. 

“Oh, Hinata’s just fine!” he waves his hand with a laugh, “Yes, I’m Bokuto and Atsumu’s teammate. We actually wanted to bring our friend Sakusa here too, but he said he has an emergency at some hospital.” 

"Hmm…" you hum, letting your eyes scan the menu, thinking you might as well enjoy the food, "Oh, I hope everything is okay with your friend Sakusa and it’s nothing too serious, but now that we're here, might as well enjoy and run Rei's wallet dry. Right, Rei?"

You tilt your head a bit, glancing over at Reiji from the corner of your eye with a sly smirk forming on your lips. Ah, the man could only let out a nervous chuckle, knowing full well what you were planning as he recalls a similar scenario a few months back in the very same restaurant that put a dent to his savings because of the ridiculous price of the meals you had ordered that night. Not tearing your gaze away from your best friend, you call for the waiter's attention, who quickly responds by walking over and pulling out his tiny notepad to jot down your table's order. 

"Hello, I'm Daiki and I'll be your waiter for the night." He greets with a friendly smile, not realizing the awkward atmosphere among the group, "What will we be having?" 

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you give Reiji an innocent grin before turning your gaze over to the waiter to return his smile with your own, "Hello, Daiki. You see, my friends here aren't really sure what to order, but I told them not to worry since I've been here so many times, so I'll be ordering for everyone!" 

"Excellent, ma'am!" He nods his head, matching your enthusiasm.

You nod eagerly as you shut the menu in your grip, completely ignoring Reiji’s protests from beside you as the rest of the individuals seated around the table either watch in amusement or curiosity. “I believe there is always a three special course meal that changes every day according to the chef, we’d absolutely love that.” 

At the sight of Reiji’s features scrunched up in horror, you inwardly squealed in victory. 

It was going to be a long night.

Mayuzumi Asuma and Suwa Reiji were now considered dead.

To you, at least. And somehow, you knew that, despite them avoiding meeting your gaze alongside with the other three across from you who freely interacted with each other, they themselves knew what they were getting themselves into. They were digging their graves for this stunt they have pulled. 

You’d got to give Reiji credit, though. Despite pushing his buttons by ordering everyone the high priced three course meal, he wasn’t his usually squirmy and irritating self. You had at least expected sharing a heated argument with him after such a display, but instead of giving in, he continued to pursue his plan with the others. 

Oh, they think they were so slick, as if you hadn’t caught on with their little plan. Not a date, they say. It might as well be one, since they’re bluntly ignoring your attempts to converse with them. All was missing was some privacy. At first you hadn’t thought about it when you had tried to share a conversation with Hinata, it was only right for you to get to know someone; you were just being nice. However, before Hinata could respond to your question, Bokuto had dragged him into a conversation about volleyball. You brushed it aside, not thinking anything rude of it, as you knew Bokuto would often speak with anyone out of the blue. It was just how he is. 

You hadn’t even thought about it the second time around when this time; you tried conversing with Osamu, wanting to know about how his business is going so far. Except, the conversation between you and Osamu never happened due to the fact that Asuma had cut you off mid-sentence, engaging the man in a ridiculous conversation about healthy diets. Like, what the heck was that all about? Asuma and healthy diets just don’t sit well with you. Nevertheless, you brushed it aside, shifting your attention to the first course meal of the night that had been placed before you. 

They think they were so smart, trying to pull it off. Ah, but no. You had caught on with their little plan the third time around when you tried to join in Bokuto and Hinata’s conversation. You were instantly shot down by Reiji, shifting the conversation to another topic that only they could understand. 

They were dead men. All of them. 

Placing your chopsticks down, you turn your head towards Reiji’s direction with a false innocent smile curling upon your lips. “Reiji, dear.” 

Ah there it was, catching the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple in this throat with your gaze. "Yeah?"

"I hope you know—” 

Hinata cuts you off by standing up abruptly from his seat, waving frantically towards someone’s direction, “Ushijima-san!” 

You blink before turning your head to look at whoever Hinata was waving to, catching a glimpse of a tall, muscular man nodding towards Hinata’s direction in greeting, a woman trailing close behind him. Not wanting to be rude, you return to your previous position to face Hinata that was seated across from you, “Was that the Ushijima Wakatoshi?” 

Hinata nods as he sits back down, a huge smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m sure you know about him.” 

“I suppose,” you lift your shoulders up in a shrug as you pick up your chopsticks once more, completely forgetting to reprimand Reiji’s actions much to his relief, “I was volleyball manager back then in high school, so I would know a few things, including some players.” 

“Where did you go to school?” Hinata asks, tilting his head a bit as he looks at you curiously. You wonder, briefly, had Atsumu not mentioned you at all since the incident at the sports complex? Weird. 

As you were about to reply, the man seated on your left answers for you. “She went to the same school as me, Shouyou-kun. She was our manager.” 

Hinata stares at you for a second, blinking a couple of times before realization hits him, his eyes widening, “I remember you now! You were that pretty manager!” 

The men around the table chokes and sputters their food, causing you to scrunch up your nose in disgust. Atsumu is first to respond after clearing his throat, “What? I mean, yeah. She was our pretty manager.”  

“I remember her because it was the first time I saw Tsukishima look stupid over a girl,” Hinata chuckles, shaking his head. “But, how come I only saw you once? Were you a third year at the time?” 

Suddenly, the tension was back in the air. You catch from the corner of your eye, Atsumu growing tense from Hinata’s question, and you had to fight the urge to show your own emotions. Everyone else was silent, probably waiting for you or Atsumu to answer. “Ah, I left high school towards the end of our second year, and moved to Kanagawa. I had my hands full at the time, so I didn’t return to high school.” 

“But wh—” Hinata gets cut off by his own yelp, making you raise a brow in confusion. He turns his head towards Osamu’s direction, wincing slightly, “Osamu-san!” 

Osamu lets out a laugh, not looking anywhere near apologetic. “Ah, sorry buddy. I was reaching over Bokuto but you were in the way.” 

An awkward atmosphere engulfs around the table once more. This dinner was certainly not going according to Osamu and Reiji’s plan. Opting to avoid the awkward glances from the other individuals, you turn your attention over to focus on your food while Osamu and Reiji were sending glares towards each other once they realized your attention elsewhere. The two had talked with Atsumu earlier, devising a plan for the two of you to talk things through. Originally, Osamu suggested that the dinner should be just you and Atsumu, but Reiji declined such an idea because of two reasons. First, you would completely decline yourself to go to a dinner and leave Atsuhiro in the hospital despite your mother being present, Reiji knew you too well that the idea of dinner at a fancy restaurant without your sons was a big no. That is, unless a friend of yours were to force you by dragging you to the restaurant. And second, if you were to be left with Atsumu alone, Reiji fears that you would leave almost immediately. 

And he was right for both. If he hadn’t dragged you here himself, you wouldn’t have bothered to go. And if he hadn’t stopped you earlier, you would have ran out the moment you saw Atsumu. However, they hadn’t expected this. Reiji hadn’t expected Osamu to bring two other people, while Osamu hadn’t expected that Reiji was going to bring someone else along. Yes, it was a disaster. 

Reiji had opted to bring Asuma along, because he knew you were going to be suspicious if it were just the two of you going for dinner. You would have accused him of coddling you like a child, it was something he would do now and then when he wanted you to release all the emotions you had kept bottled up. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate him for it, he just knows that if he did such a thing during such an emotional time, you would push him away when Reiji wanted to speed things along. As much as Reiji disliked the father of his favorite twins, he wasn’t going to deprive the little boys any longer of the chance of finally getting to know their father. If he was going to force everything on you, he would do it. He, too, has grown tired of your decisions of run away. 

Osamu on the other hand, only decided to accompany his brother himself but as he and his brother were leaving the apartment, the other two barged out of Bokuto’s room claiming to be starving from the lack of food the past couple of hours because of some intense gaming session on the PlayStation 4 that Bokuto brought along with. Not being quick on their feet, the twins had blurted out they were going out to eat. They unfortunately could not decline the two balls of sunshine. 

Clearing his throat, hoping to shift the tension in the air. “Anyway,” Osamu starts before tearing his glaring gaze away from Reiji over to where Ushijima was seated across the room, “Who is that girl Ushijima is with?” 

“She kinda looks familiar,” Bokuto hums, placing his chopsticks down after finishing his first course meal, shifting his gaze over to Ushijima’s table. 

“That’s the heiress of the Akita Empire,” Asuma answers, “Pretty woman, she is. I didn’t know she was dating anyone.” 

Hinata lets out a gasp of excitement, his eyes going wide. “I wonder if Ushijima-san is really dating her!” 

“Maybe you can ask him at the party…” Bokuto suggests while the rest of his words are drowned out by you, growing bored with the night as you wonder when you can possibly leave. 

Despite drowning out the conversation around the table and focusing on the food, Atsumu pulls you in with his voice from the side, “Hey, I’m sorry about this. I told Osamu and Reiji it was a bad idea from the start.” 

Ah, so it was those two who had planned the whole thing out. You let out a sigh, turning your head to face him to answer, your voice low to keep the others out of the conversation, “There’s nothing that we can do now.” 

“Would you have preferred that it was just the two of us?” he asks, hope laced in his voice. 

Lightly nibbling on your bottom lip, you tear your gaze away from him. Did you? You actually wanted to talk to Atsumu after having the talk with your sons. You were going to express your disappointment towards Reiji and his plan full of flaws. Had they planned this for the two of you to talk? If so, this was stupid to begin with. Something so serious between the two of you and Atsumu should be discussed within private walls, and this was nowhere near private. So maybe, yes. Perhaps, if the two were you alone, then it would have been better. “I guess,” you finally admit, “Maybe the two of us can talk things through properly when this is over. I think it’s time. For now, I hope you can accept my apologies.” 

“And I hope you accept m—” 

Hinata’s loud voice booms excitedly, “Oh remember that party!” 

The two of you snap your attention over to Hinata, the disappointment clear in your features for the disruption. What were they talking about? However, curiosity gets the best of you and you entertain him anyway. “What party?” 

“The Christmas party last year!” Hinata announces with a chuckle, “At first, I was thinking why Reiji-san and Asuma-san here look so familiar then I remember I attended the party with Bo-kun and the others!” As if on cue, the moment those words left Hinata’s mouth, Atsumu and Bokuto visually stiffened, causing you to grow more curious. 

“Ah, that party.” you let out a laugh, nudging Reiji with your elbow, “He’s talking about your all-time favorite party.” 

A scowl makes its way to Reiji’s features, “Please, do not remind me of that horrendous party. I had to move rooms just because of that, and I replaced the mattress too.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” you drawled, laughing along with Asuma as you remember Reiji going crazy the next day after the party. “Just because your guests did the dirty on your bed—” Reiji cuts you off by pinching your side, which causes you to let out a yelp in both pain and surprise.

Osamu interjects with a grin, “Actually, I have a feeling that Sakusa would have died hearing such information. But I would be pissed off too, Reiji. That’s nasty. I would have moved out the whole place entirely.” 

“Right?” Reiji exclaims by throwing his hands in the air, “I couldn’t step inside the room without wanting to poke my eyes out.” 

“That’s why we no longer let Atsumu drink too much because he’ll probably do that again,” Hinata adds, laughing along. 

Once again, silence. 

“Wait, what?” Reiji asks, the first to break the silence. “That was you?” 

Bokuto smacks Hinata’s head before looking away awkwardly. Hinata, on the other hand, takes a minute to realize his mistake before flickering his gaze back and forth from Atsumu over to you, waiting for his mistake to backfire in his face. The rest of the individuals around the table turn their attention over to Atsumu, waiting for his response. 

You were the first to defend him, letting out a laugh. “Okay, enough of this. Let’s leave the past in the past. Let’s not make things awkward, it’s not like Atsumu and I are dating or anything,” 

“Tsumtsum!” a squeal echoes throughout the restaurant and all you could think now was “What now?” 

[carbonitekisses]

IV: Trust and Promises

In which Jon and Sansa finally have a moment alone after his return to Winterfell. Also on AO3 

Her hand trembles slightly but the key turns the lock and the door swings in.

No.

I can't do this. Sansa takes a step back into the hallway. Not right now.

"Stay," he asks of her. Loud enough that she hears him, quiet enough that she is sure Brienne knows nothing of his presence in her rooms. She could leave and none would be the wiser.

Sansa was a lady at the age of three. A lady's courtesy is the only reason she takes one last painful draw of free air, steps into her room, and seals the exit.

Discreetly, she tries to steady her breathing though her lungs beg her to gasp and heave. Jon is here and Sansa will not show herself as weak in front of him. She thought she knew him, at least a little. She knew him as a king, a partner, and family. But then he left for Dragonstone against all counsel, and came back changed. He's still Jon. She still trusts him. And yet, Sansa's heart stutters in her chest and there is so little room, so little air, He left and came back as someone who's actions I do not understand...perhaps someone I did not ever really know. Jon remains standing, waiting for her to make the first move. Caught unawares and unprepared, it is an ambush she has walked into. Sooner or later a confrontation between them had to pass. She had rhetorically hoped it would never come. Pretend, that is all I can do for now. Pretend I am everything I am not—calm and indifferent. Varys and his little birds will have to wait. First, this. 

The lady of WInterfell confidently walks around Jon Snow and takes her place behind the great oak desk. I made the first move, let him be the first to break the silence and speak. 

// 

He hears her before he sees her.

“...only be a minute in my own rooms.”

Jon rises from the chair set before the desk just as she opens the door. He can tell she's been outside. The wind has played with her hair though the braids have done their duty in keeping it in place. Although she has been in the cold her cheeks lack the red that normally colors them after being in the winter wind. Jon would think her unwell but she shows no discomfort or uneasiness. Her left foot takes a backstep, ready to retreat into the hall. She can't leave. He can't let her. 

“Stay,” he whispers.

And she does. Reluctantly, he knows, but she stays.

She calmly closes the door behind her. He thinks of what to say to break the silence but Sansa's gaze passes over him. If Jon hadn't spoken and witnessed her surprise at seeing him in her rooms, he would think himself invisible. He watches her as she strides to sit behind her desk. Sansa blankly looks at him as he remains standing. She will not speak, fine. Then he will.

"Are you well?"

"Yes."

"Any news of import?"

"A lot has happened since you left the North."

The window behind her does little in keeping out the gales that push back against the castle walls. He is glad for it. The wind makes the silence between words slightly more bearable.

"And will you not tell me of this news?"

"First: how did you get in? I'm assuming Arya was involved?"

“Aye.” It took her less than a minute to pick the lock.

"Thank you."

Arya shakes her head as she works the metal pick into the lock. "Don't thank me. I'm not doing this for you." A final twist and the door unlocks. "I have my own reasons."

His little sister is harsher and sharper-edged but the sweet girl he remembers is still there. He wonders what else besides lock-picking she's learned during her time away from home.

"I don't trust her."

"Arya, she's your sis—"

"Our sister." She pushes the door open and steps aside so he can go in. "And I wasn't talking about Sansa; I've played the game with her. I have yet to play it with Daenerys Targaryen. Or with you."

"What game?"

She gives him a smile instead of an answer, and leaves.

“Where is she?” Sansa asks him. “Arya? I need to speak with her.”

Arya had mentioned going to the forges. The blacksmiths are hard at work, laboring day and night to make dragonglass weapons. Something tells him that if he told Sansa where Arya is she would leave in search of her. “I don't know,” he lies.

She says nothing, her eyes flicking to the closed door behind him. Yes, she would have left him to search for Arya.

Jon had arrived at Winterfell yesterday but right now is the first time Sansa and him are truly alone. Their reunion had been confined to their embrace in the courtyard. From there onwards, aside from the assembly in the hall, they spent the rest of the day in different parts of the keep, with different people, and different tasks. He knows his own reasons for avoiding her...what he doesn't know is why she avoided him. Since Castle Black, Jon has come to understand a little of what makes the woman that stands before him. She's strong-willed, persuasive, and unafraid to speak her mind. Jon had expected her to hunt him down like a she-wolf and bring him to heel, demand answers to the questions he knows have been simmering ever since he signed as 'Warden of the North' on that damned scroll. 

She never came.

“You've been avoiding me.” He knows she had avoided him. She must know he had avoided her. 

“And you, me,” she confirms. “We've been avoiding each other. Now we're not. Is that all you came here for?”

Her lack of feeling or care needles him.

“No. It's not. We need to talk.”

Without warning or apparent cause, placidness seems to replace her discordance. "Very well, then. What news do you want to hear of first?" She leans back and lays her arms on the chair's armrests. He sits, cautious and wary of her change in tone. "The food shortage, the fickleness of the northern lords, the tension between the Free Folk and northmen, Arya and Bran? Or perhaps we should discuss the newer concerns that arrived with Daenerys Targaryen. Varys' little birds, the hatred the north holds against Targaryens and Lannisters, the wight dragon, and, again, the food shortage."

"Little birds?" It's a term he hasn't heard of and the first topic that tumbles out of his mouth.

"Varys is called Master of Whispers for a reason," she replies drily, "Little birds, he calls them. Spies. Eyes and ears that report back to him, and often spread secrets and lies of their own. No conversation, secret, plan, or information is safe with them here. There is a reason Varys has survived three regencies. He's a dangerous man."

And you brought him here, is left unsaid. 

Jon swallows and tries to bring some moisture to his drying mouth. Spies in Winterfell that report to Varys and, by extension, to Daenerys. Daenerys who is quick to anger and impulsive. Northerners are not known for their tact or minding their tongues. If the assembly in the hall is anything to go by, Jon is sure these little birds will have an easy job of reporting how unwanted Daenerys is in the North. It is a problem he is not sure he can solve. It is a problem he didn't even know existed. How private is this conversation? Could there be a little bird in this very room? At least he knows Brienne is standing guard right outside. 

Speaking of dangerous men, "What of Baelish? I have yet to see him following you around the halls." He tries for humor in order to not betray his preoccupation, "Did Ghost frighten him away?"

There is a shift in her demeanor. Minutely, her hands tighten around the armrests. Her nostrils flare while she takes in a drag of air. Something happened between Baelish and her. "I love Sansa, as I loved her mother," Baelish had said. Jon should have killed the beady-eyed man when he had the chance. Instead, Jon left Sansa unprotected and alone with a man whose hungry stare never wavered from her.

"Don't worry. He's no longer your concern. Or a threat. Arya, Bran and I saw to that."

Unbidden, his gloved hand tightens. Muscle memory. Tendons and muscle move as he tries to choke a neck that is no longer there. "What happened? He made his intentions towards you very clear to me before I left."

"I don't want to talk about Littlefinger right now."

"Sansa." He says her name like a challenge. He doesn't know why he is so intent on this. He feels almost childish, fixated on a topic he can see she holds no love for. However, it is the first time that she has shown any matter of feeling or investment in this...conversation. And there is something dark and viscid within him that needs to know—that wants to break the veil of ice she is wearing. "I need to know," Sansa stiffens. "Did he—did he cross any boundaries he shouldn't have?"

"You 'need to know'?" Her head lowers, shaking humorlessly, until he can only see the braided rose that crowns her hair. Words are slow and pointed in coming out of her mouth. Her tongue seems to savor each syllable. "Funny, that, how you demand answers and explanations from me. How, suddenly, 'we need to talk'. We needed to talk several moons past, what use is talking now? My counsel and opinion doesn’t matter to you."

You're wrong. There are few people he can and does trust. He left the North in her steady and capable hands. He entrusted the safety of their people to her. She...she came into his life unexpectedly but he now finds himself unable to fathom a future without her—and the rest of his family. How can you doubt your importance to me? Or believe that your counsel and opinion doesn't matter? “It does matter—”

Her chair scrapes against the floor as she abruptly stands, and her hands grip the edge of the desk. “No, it doesn’t." As if surprised by the vehemency that coats her words, she blinks rapidly, and twists her face away from him. "One raven, Jon. That is all you cared to send." Her voice is hoarse; he surmises it is probably from anger. "You left our home and a kingdom we just reclaimed, to leave on a mission everyone advised you against because we couldn’t risk losing you. Moons without a single word, or scroll to at least let me know you were alive and well." She lifts a hand to wipe away a strand of auburn that escaped her braid. "And then when I do receive a raven it’s to let me know—not confer with or discuss—but to let me know that you bent the knee. Brienne told me of how you publicly pledged yourself to Daenerys at the Dragon Pit. No one aside from you and the Targaryen queen, not even Ser Davos, your hand, knew." 

He mimics her and stands just as harshly. Jon thought she trusted him. 'We need to trust each other'. They had promised atop Winterfell's battlements, hadn't they? "You weren't the one that had to negotiate with Daenerys. I was." Anger at her mistrust worms into his throat. Sansa wasn't kept prisoner with no access to her ship and weapons. She doesn't know of how tense the situation was. She doesn't know how volatile Daenerys' temper is. She criticizes him without knowing exactly what transpired on that thrice-damned island. "You have no idea what it was like, you only believe what you want to believe and accuse me of—of I don't know what."

"That's the problem! I have no idea because you refuse to confide in me!" Her gloveless hands release their grip on the desk. The lady of Winterfell draws her shoulders back and circles the desk to stand before him. The barrier between them is gone and at this close distance Jon can see a faint redness lining the white of her eyes. "You act like a lone wolf without thinking of the consequences. With the stroke of a quill, you sent a scroll renouncing a crown voluntarily given and voluntarily accepted," a breath shudders past the belt that tightly winds around her waist, "and it fell upon me to try and explain a situation I knew nothing of to the people that put their trust in the Stark name. Thrice now, a Stark king has lost the north. Did you believe the lords would accept a Targaryen queen as easily as you did? You know what the North has suffered at the hands of southern rulers—especially Targaryens. I'd almost wager many of them would rather die in the Long Night than submit once more to 'Fire and Blood'."

"Then they're fools," he says through clenched teeth. We're really all just Northern fools in the end. "Do you think the Night King cares about who holds what title? Titles don't matter—"

"Oh, yes they do," she cuts in, "What will happen after the war? After the Night King is defeated? You say you fight for the living but it seems you don't care or understand that life, the very thing you are fighting for, will continue on afterwards and the promises and pledges you have sworn will matter. Who rules over us, over the North, will matter. That you pledged northern men to fight for a bloody throne in the south will matter." Her volley of attacks leaves her winded and gasping. "You're a fool if you don't understand this."

"She has dragons, armies, and dragonglass. We need Daenerys, what don't you understand about that?" He isn't wearing the cloak Sansa made for him yet he feels himself warming underneath Sansa's clear disapproval. Sansa always gets under his skin. What does he have to do to gain her trust? "Without her we will not win this war. I've seen the Army of the Dead. I've fought them. Not even her dragons are safe. You heard Bran, the Night King now has a dragon of his own." Guilt at agreeing to go beyond the Wall for Daenerys' truce, the loss of Uncle Benjen, guides his eyes away from Sansa's penetrating gaze. "You have no idea what we're up against. If I hadn't gone to Dragonstone...there is no doubt in my mind the Night King would kill every single northern man, woman, and child before making his way south. You must know," he takes a single step forward, tries to make her understand. "All I care about is protecting the North. I promised to protect you, remember? I could never forgive myself if I hadn't done everything possible to protect you, Arya, and Bran."

The braziers and sconces mounted around the room crackle, and cast her face in orange light. He feels like she's ripped from him an unknown truth he himself is blind to. She looks at him, unblinking. He stares back, waiting. His eyes start to burn but he will not yield. Sansa's veneer of ice seems to thaw. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her thumb worry her palm. Quietly, she asks him a question that tears open the wounds on his chest, “Was it duty to the North or love for her that made you bend the knee?"

[natasha-cole]

Ready Steady 5: Reunion

A Ready Steady Oneshot

Summary: Rob has missed he and Reader’s first year wedding anniversary. Reader isn’t concerned, she’s just happy to have him home finally.

Word Count: 3145

Warnings: domestic fluff (no angst or anything!)

Masterlist

Lots of Notes!: This was supposed to be a oneshot about Rob in that cowboy hat driving Reader crazy. Since I had to do a lot of quick catching up on the story, I had to split it up into two parts.

I’m fast-forwarding a lot since we last saw Rob x Reader after they announce that they were expecting another baby.

This is mostly domestic fluff and catching you up on their lives so far.

Also, it’s been a long time since I wrote for this series, so hopefully I got timelines right. The name Lila has no meaning really, it just came to my mind as I wrote.

Enjoy! I missed these two so much!

The last couple of years had flown by in a whirlwind of heartache, happiness, tears, and laughter. Not only had you unexpectedly fallen in love with a man that you would marry in that short period of time; but you would also become the mother of two perfect children and you and Rob would go on to have a lot of success in your respective careers.

The music that you had been working so diligently on during your first pregnancy and in the first year of your sons life took to the back burner yet again when you found out that you and Rob were expecting your second child.

Life was busy and you had your hands full, and no matter how much Rob insisted that you keep working at your music, you were content with being a wife and a mother for a little while. There was nothing that you loved more than your little growing family, and you wanted to focus on the people that made you happy, because you had honestly never felt this much happiness or love in your life before. You wanted to enjoy it.

Your daughter was born in June, and somehow, her birth had been a lot less dramatic than Jackson’s. Although Rob and the rest of the Supernatural cast were usually in convention mode during this time, Rob made sure that he stepped away from his usual work duties to make sure that he was home when the time came. 

You had felt a little bit guilty that he was missing the convention that month, but he insisted that there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right there with you and your children.

Your friends had all been working a convention in Dallas that weekend, and were quite thrilled when Rob made sure to call and let them know when your daughter had arrived. 

Unable to hold back his excitement, Rob even announced her arrival to everyone on social media, after asking you if it was okay of course. It had been sweet. He had managed a family selfie; you cradling your little girl, him snuggled up beside you on the hospital bed, and Jackson on the other side of you as he stared in awe at the sight of his little sister.

Your happiness had been at an all-time high that day. You still didn’t understand how you could love someone so much as you did in the moments when you first held onto your little ones. You also didn’t understand how your love for your family could only grown with each passing day. Love hadn’t been something that you ever really experienced before your life with Rob, and you knew you were very lucky to have this love now. 

By the end of that year, you had caved to Rob’s insistence that you finish what you had started with your music. You had been dragging out the process for a long time, and you weren’t really sure why you were doing that. You were nearly done with it and you had been for some time, but perhaps it was fear of putting out something so personal to the world when you simply wanted to remain somewhat anonymous. 

Your excuse for not finishing the work quickly turned to the fact that you now had two small children at home and a very busy husband, but Rob was having none of that. He was a great father who stepped up when it came to you being in the studio a lot as you finished the album that had been well over a year in the making. No matter how much you tried to avoid it, he was there to make sure that you could finish it.

Before you knew it, you had finished it. Another labor of love that meant a lot to you, that was basically the past few years of your life told through song. Some of it was hard to look back on, but most of it was hopeful. You even managed to get Rob into the studio to record the song that you had written together with you.

When it came time to actually put it out there for people to hear early on in the following year, you felt as if you were letting the world in on your usually very private life. It was scary, but also freeing in many ways.

Your songs had been received well and you didn’t realize until then that you had many fans in the country music world who had followed your career even though you had been a faceless songwriter who avoided the spotlight. Everyone who you had ever worked with in Nashville, from fellow songwriters to big stars, praised your record and your voice and the fact that your songwriting remained honest and emotional. 

The next thing you knew, you were being invited to perform at festivals and shows. It was always a good career move for performers to actually perform live after releasing an album, but you didn’t know if you were ready for that. With a little nudge from Rob though, you did accept spots at a few shows. With the couple of live performances, you became a little more comfortable singing for people. Rob encouraged you to take as many opportunities to perform live as you could, but you had a family now. You had a busy husband and two small children and you just weren’t ready to be away from them for extended amounts of time.

By February, his insistence about you playing live became a little more and it didn’t seem as if he were going to let it go. He had just returned home from a long weekend at the Vegas convention, which also caused him to be away for your wedding anniversary. You could tell the moment that he walked through the door that he wasn’t in the best mood and you knew it was because of that. 

Even while he was away, he made sure to call and text often, apologizing for missing your first anniversary and wishing that he had just cancelled his appearance when he had the chance.

The conversation started after you greeted each other with a kiss and he spent some time with the kids. It never failed to make your heart swell at the sight of him with the kids. Sure, the two of you had gone through a lot of rough patches and had to really put in a lot of work to make your relationship work, but when it came to being a father, he was a natural. 

That evening, after the kids were asleep, you and Rob celebrated your anniversary a little late, and really mellow. You cuddled together on the couch with glasses of wine, making out, as soft music played in the background. It wasn’t what he had imagined it would be, but you were very content with it. As long as you had him here now, you had no complaints.

“I’m sorry I missed our anniversary,” he mumbled again as you snuggled against him.

“Please, stop apologizing. I told you it was fine.”

“I’ve felt awful about it all weekend.”

“I know you have, but don’t,” you insisted. “You’re here now.”

“How were the kids while I was away?”

“Perfect angels,” you chuckled.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, you know… Lila is crawling everywhere, says ‘dada’ all the time, even to me; and Jackson still has more energy than I know what to do with.”

“I can’t believe that we have a two year old and an almost one year old.”

“And all within the last two years,” you added.

“We lead a crazy life.”

“That we do. But it’s perfect.”

He smiled at you, nodding in agreement before leaning down to kiss you.

“What else did I miss?” He asked. “Anything exciting happen while I was away?”

“Oh, I got some invitations to perform at some shows,” you began. “There’s one I’m considering doing because it’s close to home. The other shows are basically a small tour that would have me all over the place for a few months, so of course I declined on that.”

“You know you’re allowed to do all of the shows, right? You don’t have to choose just because they’re close. You’re allowed to travel and, yes, even be away for a while.”

“I know.”

“You’ve only done, like, three shows since the album dropped.”

“I also know that.”

“You should accept all of the invitations,” he said seriously.

“But… I don’t really want to.”

“I don’t want you to hold yourself back,” Rob explained. “You worked so hard on this album and you’ve gone through so much, I won’t be the one who holds you back from touring and performing.”

“You’re not holding me back,” you replied. “Look, I’ve done a few small shows and I have no problem with doing more occasionally. But, I’m not going to tour.”

“Please don’t not do it just because of me or the kids. You still have to live your life and do the things that you love doing.”

“I am,” you smiled. “I love being a mom. I love you. I love being here, with my family. And, yeah, I love singing and writing and meeting fans, but I love this more.”

“Really?” He asked, looking less than convinced. “You don’t have an itch to just say, ‘hey, I’m leaving for a few months to go play music,’? Because if you’re worried about me or the kids, you don’t have to.”

“The only thing I’m worried about now is why you’re so eager to talk me into leaving for a few months.”

“I’m not…” he sighed. “I just… don’t want you to regret anything and I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold back because of me. I leave all the time. I work a lot and sometimes I feel bad that I’m almost dragging you along on the things that I’m doing. I realize that I never stop to ask you what you want.”

You gave him a soft smile. It was moments like these that made you love his so much. Even if he thought he was inconsiderate sometimes, he was very much wrong. This proved that.

“It’s really sweet that you think that,” you replied. “But you don’t drag me along. If I didn’t want to go with you to conventions and spend time with you and everyone else, then I wouldn’t do it.”

“Okay, but I still want you to be able to do things for yourself. Even if that means going off to perform.”

“Here’s the thing,” you said as you turned to face him.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled him toward you. He relaxed against you, wrapping his own arms around you as you looked up at him.

“All I wanted was to record those songs. That was the release for me; putting the past few years of my life in that album. It was never for anyone else, it was just… my therapy I guess. I’m thrilled that people love it and want to hear me sing those songs on stage somewhere, but that was never the plan. Like I said, I’m okay with playing somewhere every now and then, but being a full-time touring musician is not what I want.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive,” you smiled. “Thank you for bringing me out of my shell enough to actually make the album. But, I’m still me… and I still don’t love the spotlight.”

“I thought you wanted a music career.”

“I never said that. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could write and sing my own songs. I did that, very well I might add. All I ever wanted was to find someone that I love who loves me back. I just wanted a family and love… and I have all of that and more now.”

“See, now I feel guilty that I take my music and career a lot more seriously than that,” he said softly, his voice cracking slightly as he got choked up.

“Don’t. Because I also love what you do and I love that you’re so passionate about it. You also manage to juggle all of that and this family so well. We never feel neglected or forgotten when you’re working. We love you. I love you.”

“I love you too. But, you have to promise me… if there is ever a point in time where you just want to tour and focus more on your music, you’ll do it without worrying about me or the kids.”

“Well, it's impossible not to worry about my family; but I promise.”

“Alright, I won’t push it anymore. As long as you’re doing what you want to do, it’s okay.” he said as he exhaled deeply. “On another note, I got to thinking over the weekend, and I still feel really bad about missing our anniversary, so what do you say to a little convention get away? You haven’t joined me at one in a long time.”

“That depends,” you replied. “Which convention and are we ready to bring two kids with us?”

“I was thinking… maybe just you and me.”

“Really?”

“I know you hate to be away from the kids, but Jackson is a handful and Lila is still so little…”

“I don’t know, Rob…”

“Think of it as a kind of vacation,” he argued. “We haven’t gone anywhere or done anything just the two of us since before Jackson.”

“You want to have a romantic getaway while you’re working?”

“Well, I know it’s not perfect, but it was just a thought. We can bring the kids if you want.”

“Hold on,” you said sternly as you held up your hand to stop him from talking anymore. “You’re offering me a weekend away from a baby and a toddler where I get to be alone with you and where I get to spend actual time with my friends without our kids?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s what I’m offering. But I get it if you don’t want to be away from them.”

“Look, just because I said I didn’t want to tour because I don’t want to be away from my children, doesn’t mean I don’t want one weekend away from them with my husband.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely yeah,” you said. “I’m tired. They’re exhausting. I absolutely would love to go to work with you.”

“Okay,” he laughed. “Then we’re going to Nashville. Just the two of us. I mean, our friends will also be there… and thousands of fans…”

“Nashville?” You asked, a big smile forming on your face as you said it. 

“Yeah,” he blushed. “I figured it was a good convention to bring you to without the kids as a belated anniversary thing.”

“The place where it all started,” you mused. “So, technically, it is an anniversary weekend of sorts. You know, you can be a real sap sometimes.”

“Only for you,” he grinned as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Speaking of... I got you an anniversary gift,” you said as you pulled away and looked at him.. 

You had nearly forgotten as the two of you got lost in enjoying your quiet time together. You stood up and moved across the room to retrieve the box from the bookshelf where you had placed it where it would be out of reach of the kids. You went back to the couch and sat beside Rob, handing him the gift eagerly.

“I went a little more modern with it,” you explained. 

He quickly unwrapped the gift, opening the box and peeking inside at the watch that you had gotten him. It was something that he had been eyeing for some time, so it worked out perfectly for you to get it for him on your first wedding anniversary.

“This is perfect,” he smiled as he slipped it onto his wrist and admired it. “I love it.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Well, I also picked up something for you,” he said as he then got up from the couch. You watched him as he headed to the bedroom only to return a moment later with your gift in hand. “Now, I actually went a little traditional with this.”

“Aww, you got me paper?”

He smiled as he took his spot next to you, handing you the gift that you eagerly unwrapped.

Inside was a brown leather journal, similar to the one he had given to you when you met in Nashville two years ago. You had quickly filled up those pages with lyrics that told your story, and after you had finished your album, tucked the old journal away. It had been some time since you had actually written, finding it hard to find the time to do so now.

You turned the journal over in your hands, smiling softly to yourself when you say the engraving on the back of it. You recognized Rob’s handwriting right away, a short message that simply read; ‘Keep writing our story’ with one of his signature hearts followed by his name. 

“Now I feel bad because I got you a watch and you still remain sentimental and thoughtful when you give gifts,” you said.

“It’s just a journal,” he replied.

“No. It’s so much more than that.”

“Is it?” He asked.

“It reminds me of when we met,” you said. “You remember when you gave me that journal before you left Nashville? It looks a lot like this one.”

“I might’ve done that on purpose.”

“Like I said, thoughtful.”

“I love you so much,” he said softly as he reached out and brushed hair from your face, his blue eyes watching you adoringly.

“I love you too,” you replied. 

You snuggled against him again, the two of you just sitting in silence as you held each other, enjoying this rare moment that you got to spend with each other.

After a while, the business of the day caught up with you and you yawned, turning back to him.

“It’s getting late,” you began.

“Mmm,” he hummed in response. “We should go to bed then.”

“Yeah we should. I’ve missed you and the bed has been so lonely.”

As you spoke, you stood up, taking his hands in yours to lead him to your bedroom.

“Besides,” you continued. “You missed our anniversary and you need to make up for that.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he grinned. 

The moment you stepped into the room, he was all over you. His hands wandered your body, removing clothing as his lips worked against yours. 

It was difficult when he was away for work so often. While you missed each other so much when he was gone, it did in turn make your reunions especially amazing.

___________________

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[demuestramecnco-blog]

deja vu (joel pimentel one shot)

pairing: joel pimentel x oc 

rating: mature 

summary: childhood friends reunite because of a toolbox. 

It had been 2 years since high school graduation. Meaning it had been 2 years since I’ve been home. I’ve avoided coming back to this town for breaks by agreeing to work at the grocery store a few minutes away from campus. It’s not that I didn’t miss my family… I did. It’s just the painful memories of how awkward high school was that still haunts me.

“Honey it’s been so long!” my mother runs from the front door to my car. “I know I missed you so much” I whisper as we hug each other. Hot tears fall onto my shoulder making my white t-shirt stick to my skin. “Come on come inside” she says, wiping under her eyes. “Your father and sister are waiting for you.”

As I walk inside the house I used to see every day for years my hands begin to shake. I didn’t realize just how nervous I was to see my family again. Video calls are one thing, but seeing them in person after 2 whole years is something else.

“Chrystal mija” my father says immediately. His arms wrap around me and pull me into his chest. My younger sister who isn’t so young anymore hugs be from behind. “I missed you” she mumbles. My mom eventually joins the hug and we stay like this for a few minutes until my sister complains about being hungry.

“Let’s go to the mall later” my sister says, pouring more rice onto her plate. “Didn’t you tell me your car broke down? I’m too tired to drive sis” I reply. Her eyes roll at that, “it’s fixed.”

The fork that’s about to enter my mouth is frozen in place, “how’d you afford that?”

My mother clears her throat, “let’s eat, okay?” I take a bite of avocado before asking again, “you selling drugs or something?”

“No you idiot! Joel fixed my car for me” she says. My body stiffens at the name. “H-he did?”

She nods, “he does a lot for us. When dad’s too tired to mow the lawn he comes over and helps. Last week  he went to the grocery store for mom.”

I nod slowly trying to process the information. Joel had been a.. friend? There was more of an unspoken connection between us. When we were very young we’d play together all the time at the park but when we got to high school we barely spoke excpet for the occasional group project and greeting in the hall.

“Which reminds me he left his toolbox here. I was going to return it before I went to school in the morning but since you’re here” my sister trails off with a huge smile on her face.

I groan, “fine I’ll do it.”

—

My hand hesitantly place two knocks on the door. “Coming!” he yells.

I mentally curse my hands for sweating and my heart for beating faster.

“Welcome you’re just in- oh” he stops when he finally looks up. “You um you left this at my house” I say, holding up his tool box.

His wide eyes never leave mine, “right.. thanks. When did you get back?” I wait for him to take the box out of my hand. When his fingertips graze mine I feel my cheeks warm at the contact.

“I got back yesterday. I’ll g-go sorry I wasn’t who you were expecting” I let out a nervous laugh. “No stay!” he exclaims.

My head tilts to the side in confusion. “I mean .. I didn’t know you would be back today or else I would’ve invited you. I’m having a small reunion with some of my friends who got back from school a few days ago. You’re welcome to stay” he says.

“I didn’t bring anything” is all I say. He smiles, “so you’ll stay?”

I nod, “ye-yeah. I’ll order pizza or something I feel bad not bringing anything.” His other arm free from the toolbox wraps around my upper arm, bringing me into his apartment.

“Don’t worry about it. We have more than enough.”

I follow his pull to his living room where six other familiar faces look up at me from their seats. “Chrystal is that you?”

My eyes follow the voice finding a close friend of mine. “Ally, hey!”

She squeals while running over to me. “It’s been so long! How are you? How’s college?”

I cringe at the mention of school. “Girl I understand I’ve been super stressed too” she says. Joel returns from whichever room he went to and claps, “we’re still waiting on Justin but we can start playing a game or something.”

“How about we dance” Ally gushes while throwing her hands in the air. “It’s only six of us won’t that be awkward?” Joel asks.

“Not if you make it. Jennie connect your phone!” Ally turns away from me and skips over to her friend. joel and I make eye contact before I get too overwhelmed and run over to Ally.

—

“Why does Lisa keep staring at you?” Ally says through heavy breathing. We’re standing in the corner of the room swaying back and forth to the beat. I don’t think this Justin guy is coming because we’ve been dancing for over an hour.

“Who?” I ask genuinely unaware of who she was talking about. “Right you’ve missed a few things while being gone for TWO years” she replies. “Lisa works with Joel at the mall” she adds.

“Oh I mean- I don’t know why she would stare at me? I haven’t formally met her” I reply. “Maybe she is jealous.”

Jealous?

“Why would she be? I’m nothing special” I laugh. “Oh shut up!” she replies. We both burst out in laughter together earning the stares of the rest of the group.

I notice Joel smiling at us, so I wave at him which only makes him smile wider.

“That is why she would be jealous” Ally whispers. “That was friends being friends though?” I ask with a questioning tone.

“Sure” she says.

Having enough of this, I walk over to Joel and Austin. I remember Austin being on the track team. He was a star athlete. Joel’s so shy I still wonder how they even became friends.

“Hey there party girl!” Austin says. “You two” I point at them both, “are just boring.” They both laugh. “You’re having fun then?” Joel asks. I nod, “yes joey.”

His jaw goes slack at his nickname. “You remember that?” I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face, “we were close friends years ago of course I do.”

As I stare into his eyes all the feelings I’ve repressed come crashing back. Our days in the park, the glances during class, working in the library for projects, staring at him from outside my window as he helped my mom bring in the groceries.

I like him. I like Joel.

“Party girl you still in there?” I hear. I snap out of my trance and let my eyes fall to the floor, “s-sorry.”

My stomach whirls triggering my gag reflex. “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask rubbing my stomach.

“First door on your right. Are you okay?”

-

“No I’m not okay” I say. My sister groans, “you’re so dramatic! Fine take it and leave me alone! I have to finish getting ready.”

I dance in excitement as I grab the silver necklace from her jewelry box. I barged in here in a fit because I was missing an essential piece to my outfit. I forgot my favorite necklace at school somehow, which would’ve looked perfect with my current outfit.

Now I’m ready to meet my friends for dinner later. The house would soon be quiet as my sister was going to the mall with her friends and my parents went to the town meeting.

The doorbell rings sounding louder than usual in the quiet.

“Can you get that?” my sister yells from her room.

I hum along to the song I had just been listening to as I turn the door knob.

“Hi”

My eyes shut in embarrassment, “did you hear that?” The sound of laughter fills my ears. “We both did. You’re a good singer Chrystal.”

I smile at the younger boy, “hey Gabe how are you? Is it just you two going to the mall?”

He shakes his head, “nope. We’re meeting our friend Mandy there. My brother drove me here since you know.. I can’t drive yet.”

I laugh, “one more year bud. Come in guys.” I hold the door open wider for them to come in.

Joel stands next to me while his younger brother goes to most likely rush my sister. “You look beautiful” he says. My cheeks take no time to heat up. “Thank you” I pull him in for a hug. “I’m meeting friends for dinner later. Want to keep my company until then?”

He nods. “I would lo-“

Two pairs of footsteps running down the stairs interrupts him. “We’ll be back later. I’ll take Gabe home” my sister says.

“Thank you. Be careful if you need anything call me” Joel says making my heart flutter.

“Bye!”

Tension fills the air once the front door slams shut. “Are you feeling better?”

His sudden speech makes me jump. He laughs softly, “sorry didn’t mean to scare you.”

I finally look up at him. “I’m feeling a lot better now. I probably just danced too much at the party.”

“Well I’m glad my dancing queen is doing better” he says. The new nickname causes my heart to skip a beat. My stomach begins whirling, but not because I’m sick this time.

“Sit” I manage to stay.

I take a seat next to him on the couch leaving enough distance for me to sit with one knee resting against the cushion.

“What have you been up to?” I ask. “I balance work and school. Haven’t really been doing much else” he replies. “Besides helping my family out.”

He gulps. “Y-yeah I help out sometimes. Your parents are good people.” I smile, “they are. How about the singing thing? Still doing that?’

My eyes scan his face taking in his appearance and mannerisms. “Not really. I haven’t done much singing since high school” he replies with a sad tone. “You should post covers! You have the perfect face and voice to make it” I say.

A wide smile spreads across his face, “perfect face huh.” I shove his arm playfully. ‘You know you’re gorgeous no need to be so modest.”

“Thank you” he bites his lip, “really. Your words mean a lot to me.”

“Why is that?” I ask quickly. He looks taken aback, his eyes wide, his jaw slack. “You’re my friend.”

In a few weeks I’ll be back at school. That means I can run successfully avoid him if my next statement fails or I can benefit for two whole weeks if he responds positively. So, why not?

“Am I just your friend?” I ask. “Wha-what do you me-“

“You know what I’m asking you Joel” I interrupt. “You’re going back to school Chrys” he replies. “So? I’m a few hours away.. we both have phones.”

“Are you serious about this? You can’t play about something like this. I’ve felt this way since high school” he says. I nod, “me too it just took me longer to realize. I’m sorry.”

“Then there’s only one thing left to do I guess” he says. I move closer to him as he does the same. “Yeah and what’s that?” I ask.

His hand brushes the hair out of my face. The same hand cups my cheeks as his face moves closer to mine. My thoughts become hazy as the only thing I can manage to think of is him.

Joel Joel Joel

His name repeating in my mind like a mantra. I lean in connecting our lips because he was taking too long for my liking.

Our lips move together hastily, his hands push me back on the couch, and my hands make their way to grip his hair.

“Dinner” he mumbles against my lips. “Don’t care” I reply. He moans against my mouth when my legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to my body.

-

“I don’t care! You owe me all the burgers and milkshakes I can eat before you leave me again” Ally sighs into the phone. “Anything you want. On me!”

She laughs, “of course it will be after you ditched me. Not that I can blame you. How was it?”

If she were in front of me her eyebrows would be wiggling right now. “I’m not answering that I have to go.”

She whines, “I’m not asking you to go into detail!”

“Fine. It was perfect- he was perfect. Now I have to go he’ll be here any minute” I reply. She giggles, “was he big?”

“Bye!” I exclaim. “Bye have fun on your date!”

At the same time I click the end call button the doorbell rings.

“Coming!” I yell.

I open the door and smile. He holds a bouquet of roses for me to take, “this is for you.”

“I’m getting a weird sense of deja vu” I say.

“You know what? I am too. I’m glad I left my toolbox here” he replies.

I take the bouquet from his hands, “yeah me too.”

[liliansilverstuff]

Sour Grapes - New Chapter!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502882/chapters/39085012

If you’re new to this story, start here.

@naarna tagging you by your request! <3

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Chapter 13 - True Love

Draco shivered as he entered the cold hollow prison in the middle of the North Sea. Memories of his time here flooded back into his very soul as he walked down the narrow corridor to the visitor cells. It had always felt like this. The guard accompanying him was familiar only by voice. Draco had avoided eye contact with any of them for the majority of his stay there, never wanting to view their hatred OR their pity, blissfully ignorant of whichever they were offering each day.

“Who would you like to see first?” asked the guard.

“My Mother.”

The guard nodded and motioned for him to enter the door on his right.

“You have 20 minutes with each, or 40 minutes total, wherever you choose to spend the time.”

Draco nodded, thinking he would probably spend the majority of that time with his mother. He entered the visitor cell and saw her sitting upright in a metal chair behind a metal table, the room itself completely bare except for these pieces of furniture and a seat for the visitor.

“I will knock to alert you when 20 minutes has passed,” the guard said before slamming the door shut behind him.

Draco stared at his mother. She was more pale and sunken than she had been at his last visit and he wondered if she had been flat out refusing food again. She had taken to doing so last Christmas and had been hospitalized as a result. Seeing him, however, caused her to light up like nothing else could.

“Draco,” she said with a desperate hunger in her voice as she stood from her chair. He rushed to her side, “Mother please remain seated, you look so frail.” She consented to hug him and sit back down in her cold, hard chair.

“I’m fine Draco, now that you’re here. How are you my love? Please tell me everything.”

This was Narcissa’s constant refrain when he’d visited her, which was about once a month. His father, on the other hand, only received a visit during the Christmas Holidays. It was always a stoic reunion, filled with shallow questions and a distinct lack of eye contact. His Mother, however, he shared everything with.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware given your limited contact with Father, but- I have quite a problem, Mother, and I-”

His breath caught in his chest and he looked away, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for this conversation he’d rehearsed in his head all morning.

“Draco, what is it? You know that you can tell me anything,” her eyes held a sense of fear that only a mother could show when looking into her child’s distressed face. Draco took a deep breath and began, “Father has re-arranged for me to wed Astoria Greengrass… within the month.”

Narcissa breathed in deeply and nodded, sitting back in her chair. It was clearly new information, yet she was unsurprised.

“I had wondered if her parents would come round after your release. It seems they took their time, no?”

“Well, given that I gave an interview for The Prophet officially announcing not only my return to society but also my friendship with Harry Potter, I expect they’re suddenly quite keen to be re-connected with our family.”

“You gave an interview?” she looked at him, puzzled.

“Yes, it’s a long story,” he said, keen not to bring Hermione into this conversation if he could help it, “but the bottom line is that it caught their attention and they have jumped at the chance to use the circumstance of my… ‘social redemption’ for their own ends.”

Narcissa looked even more puzzled at this last statement, “for what ends, exactly?”

He took a deep breath, and said, “Astoria is pregnant,” and before his mother could react, added, “It’s not mine.”

She made no reply, but looked suddenly stern. Bitter.

“It belongs to Ronald Weasley whom her family has deemed unfit as a match for her,” he kept going, through his Mother’s wide eyed reaction, “They have devised a plan with Father that involves Astoria and I having a shotgun wedding and pretending that the child is ours,” he grit his teeth, and growled, “as if anyone would be able to accept a Weasley as a Malfoy.”

“Preposterous!” his mother shouted, looking over to the adjacent wall, behind which she knew her husband sat waiting for the unscheduled visit from his son, “I wish I could say I didn’t believe him capable of making such an agreement, however…”

“I am sure that Father is doing this to punish me for my behavior. For not visiting him as often as I visit you, and for keeping myself in seclusion so that he can’t utilize me for his nefarious business dealings, which are now failing as a result. He seeks to humiliate me and he doesn’t care if he drags the family name through the mud in doing so. He has nothing left to lose.”

He watched her as she stared off into the corner of the room, subtly shaking her head and trying to steady her breath.

“Mother, I need your help changing his mind.”

She turned to stare at him, suddenly seeming not to breathe.

“Draco…” she said slowly, a look of dawning comprehension washing over her, “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, darling.” Her voice cracked slightly.

“What do you mean?” he said, a bit forcefully.

“I’m afraid that the- the marriage promise is… magically bonding.”

Draco raised his eyebrows at this, motioning for her to go on.

“You see, a change of mind alone can’t undo it. It was created along the same lines as the unbreakable vow,” she looked away, as though she was speaking to herself now, working her thoughts out aloud, “well at least that’s how the pureblood families began using it after a few incidences of disobedience on the part of a son or daughter who refused to marry their pureblood match in favor of another. It went from being a promise between families to a nearly unbreakable bond,” she finished, breathless.

“Nearly unbreakable?” he inquired.

“Yes there are certain circumstances under which the magic will yield…” she trailed off.

“Well tell me what they are. Tell me so I can find a way to break it,” he demanded.

“Draco, no. You do not understand fully. This magic is desperately dangerous to attempt to tamper with. If I know your father, he will have imbued it with dark magic. He will have added clauses to the promise that create… consequences for disobedience. I shudder to think what they might be. He will do anything right now to see you in a state of compliance. He’s been so angry with you,” she said, wringing her hands, “I fear that if you were to attempt to break the bond, all manner of horrible, unforeseen things could take place.”

“Mother, I don’t care. Tell me. I shall research it myself anyway, you know that.”

She shook her head vigorously, holding back more tears in favor of being able to speak clearly.

“Draco I beg you not to! It will be the end of your life if you do, I am sure of it! Why not simply make the best out of the current circumstance? Astoria is lovely and I am sure she will soften as time goes on and you will love her in your own way, just as I learned to love your father.”

“I will not!” Draco shouted as he pounded his fist on the table.

Narcissa jumped and put her hand to her chest with a gasp, “Draco…” she said, again breathlessly.

He stood from his chair and paced to the wall, arms crossed. Narcissa was breathing deeply, staring at her son for a long while.

“Draco?” she tried, “Please come back and sit, we have limited time-”

He spun around, “WE have limited time? Mother, my life will be over within the month, apparently. Either I enter a loveless marriage and raise a… a weasel, and become the greatest joke our world has ever seen, or suffer horrific consequences! Why bother living then?!” he asked, a bit frantically.

“Draco, please come and sit down,” she asked gently.

After a moment, he obeyed, plopping down in the chair like a small child in time out.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Draco… but what have you been living for these past few years?”

He opened his mouth to retort angrily, but she interrupted before he could begin.

“What I mean to say is… from my perspective, this marriage to Astoria does not seem quite so horrible. I know it’s fast. I know the baby is indeed not yours. I know you fear the societal reaction, but my dear that’s all you’ve been living in fear of since the war ended,” she offered. He was refusing to look at her, but she continued on, “Per- perhaps this could be an opportunity to rebuild something. The gossip will die away eventually and you will be accepted, it just might be an uncomfortable period before that change occurs.”

He shook his head slowly, “I understand that, Mother, but it’s not even the point,” he mumbled.

“Well then please tell me what the point is, Draco, as our time is wearing down and I am going to be sick with worry over this until I next see you. Please help me understand what you’re truly struggling with, I want to help.”

Like Blaise, his Mother tended to see through him. He expected that he wouldn’t be leaving the room without letting her in on his current predicament, so he ought to yield now, though he had no idea how to go about explaining it.

He put his hand on his brow as he felt hot tears begin to threaten at the corners of his eyes, though he couldn’t understand why.

Taking a deep breath, he willed them away, looking up quickly to face his Mother.

“I… don’t love Astoria, and I don’t think I ever could.”

She scrutinized his face expertly. It wasn’t legilimency, just a mother’s intuition. Even so, it seemed she was fighting with herself, trying to weigh whether or not to say something.

Finally, she took a deep breath and asked, “and… who is it that you do love, Draco?”

He sat straight up, affronted, and glared at her, “I don’t- no one,” he said, scoffing and looking away.

She smiled, sure she was on to something.

“Draco,” she cooed. He sighed deeply, slumping down in his chair with his eyes closed.

He let minutes pass before working up the nerve to speak. Narcissa waited, patient and still.

Finally, words began spilling out of him in an avalanche.

“I can’t call it love yet, Mother, I haven’t even had a chance to discover what it is for myself or to even process what’s going on because it’s been happening for less than 24 hours and the moment we kissed was also the moment Astoria Greengrass showed up at my living quarters and told me that I am to be her husband because of a marriage promise that Father has co-signed and that I am to raise a part weasel and foster a very public very false love affair and marriage with a woman who, beautiful as she is, could never possibly be equal in beauty, mind, or spirit as Hermione Granger.”

Narcissa gasped and her hands flew up to her mouth. He had expected this reaction and was not keen to look up and read the expression of disgust on his Mother’s face.

“But Draco, this is amazing!” she cried, and he snapped his head up to look at her, confusion mixed with alarm all over his face.

She took a deep breath and smiled widely, cocking her head to the side to take him in fully, then said, “I feared I would never see this day.”

Slowly, he said, “Mother, you’re scaring me. Would you please let me in on whatever the joke is?”

“Oh it’s no joke, Draco, it is so far from a joke, and my apologies for being cryptic, let me be plain: the Granger girl is your soul’s saving grace. I- I believe she always has been.”

Draco didn’t move or breathe, but stared at his mother blankly waiting for her to go on. His thoughts were stagnant, shocked confusion written all over his face.

“Darling, don’t you see? From the first day you wrote home to me to tell me how much you hated that girl, I knew.”

“You knew what?!” he demanded.

“I knew that, if we were lucky enough to survive this war and be rid of the Dark Lord forever, that there would still be a chance for you.”

“I don’t understand-”

“To experience true love for another human being!” she spoke over him.

Draco’s brow furrowed even more deeply than it already had been, somehow. He had no idea what his Mother was trying to say, and was completely confused at her delight at hearing that he had kissed Hermione Granger. Had the whole world gone upside down this quickly?

“I am so sorry sweetheart, I fear I have spent so long not being open with you that what I’m about to say will come as a shock or be difficult to believe, so please just hear me out.”

He considered her, but having nothing in particular to object to, mumbled a stoic, “alright…”

She put her hand on her stomach and took a steadying breath before beginning.

“You have been raised, in large part, in darkness. I confess, I did not want to bring a child into this world after being forced to marry your Father. I grew to love him, but mostly out of fear for my own survival. The requirement to produce an heir weighed so heavily on my heart, because I knew,” she choked back tears, “I knew that you would be like him, at least in part, and I wanted nothing to do with it. It was bad enough I had to participate in the Dark Lord’s dealings, but to bring a child into that life…” her eyes now filled with tears, “I couldn’t bear it. I feared you would grow to be as cold and heartless as was possible to be, bound to a marriage promise like my own, doomed to repeat the cycle of living disconnected from and above most other witches and wizards. Draco do you know how lonely my life has been?!”

He just stared at her. He had never heard his Mother speak this way about her life. It had always appeared to him that she was happy. As he watched her come undone, he tried to replay scenes from their life and look for clues that pointed to this unhappiness, but came up short.

“This must not seem possible, because I have played my part exceedingly well, even causing myself to believe it. Truthfully, I had forgotten about my glimmer of hope regarding the Granger girl until you just said her name.”

“Mother what does Hermione have to do with any of this? You speak as though she’s the missing piece of a puzzle we are both trying to solve, but I know not the puzzle nor the way she fits in.”

“My apologies, Draco it is difficult to explain because it’s not based in anything you have a solid foundation for.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Love, Draco! I am speaking of love, the most powerful force in all the Universe, so powerful, in fact, that the department of mysteries contains an entire wing dedicated to the study of it.”

“I’m aware,” he said, gritting his teeth, “but what does it have to do with her?”

“I’m leading there, I promise.”

He shook his head, slightly put out, but kept listening.

“Even though you were involved very directly in this war, you never killed or tortured, so your soul is still intact, but you did do things, terrible things that caused harm or potential harm to people you cared about, however indirectly. I worried. Every night I worried that you had gone too far in, that I wouldn’t be able to bring you back.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, thinking back on the things he’d done and feeling a familiar pang of guilt in his stomach.

“In the far reaches of my mind, however, I always recalled the schoolyard crush you seemed unaware of since you were 11 years old, and I thought… if he, being who he is, could love a mudblood, then I will not lose him. If he could open his heart and see beyond the prejudice we have so violently instilled in him, then he could be free,” she gazed out the tiny window in the cell as she spoke the last words of this speech.

Draco’s mind was reeling.

“Mother, what schoolyard crush? I never had a crush on her, and I certainly never loved her. I hated her! I called her mudblood! I tormented her to no end! I can scarcely believe she’s willing to speak to me now, let alone…” he trailed off, grimacing at the memories of his unkindness toward Hermione flooding into his mind.

She smiled kindly, “Draco, the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.”

He glared at her, disbelievingly.

“Like I said, Draco, this will be difficult to accept because it’s the first we are speaking of it. Forgive me, I feared that being open with you about this in the past would have caused you to go deeper into darkness and hatred before having the chance to discover on your own what your heart is truly capable of.”

“You’re still not making sense, Mother, open about WHAT?”

“About the possibility of your soul being cleared!”

He stared unblinkingly at his Mother.

“Draco, the thing you need to understand is that it’s not your actions that make you good or evil, it is your intentions. I know you have been struggling with understanding who you are now. I know that you have been secluding yourself from the world, believing that to inflict your company on them would be tantamount to torture. The fact alone that you secluded yourself speaks volumes about your true nature.”

“And what is that?”

“To put it simply, Draco, you are a lover, not a fighter,” she smirked as she said this.

“You’re having a laugh, though I’m not sure why this is the appropriate time to do so.”

“I am not,” she shook her head seriously, “and I need you to really hear this. You are not a bad person, Draco. You have been a mere pawn in an evil man’s game. Do you think that Lord Voldemort went around Hogwarts tormenting mudbloods? Absolutely not, he could not have cared less. He was focused on one thing only: conquering the wizarding world. Manipulating and controlling the people in power. He had no time for hair pulling or schoolyard brawls.”

“He tormented plenty of them as far as I saw!”

“You misunderstand me, I am speaking of his character. He was cold and indifferent. He did not have a capacity to love, only a focus on power and control. It’s something you did not inherit from him… or from your Father. I knew it the day you met that girl. In this moment I am realizing that the apparent hatred you felt for her has been a glimmer of hope I’ve long held onto. Are you beginning to understand?”

He considered her, cocking his head to the side.

“Perhaps in pieces. Are you saying that because I was so openly hateful rather than indifferent, it led you to believe that I wouldn’t turn to the darkness? That I wouldn’t bend to power and control the way… the way he did?”

She nodded.

“Ok so, what bearing does it have on the current circumstance?”

She took a deep breath.

“I confess, Draco, that when you came in here and told me that you were bound to marry Astoria Greengrass, a deeply sad sense of resignation flooded my spirit. I knew you had been secluding yourself. I had been quite sure you weren’t dating, let alone falling in love. An impending marriage and a bastard child would surely lessen your chances of experiencing true love, which is all I have ever wanted for you,” she said through teary eyes.

“But then when you said… it all came flooding back… and there’s something I haven’t told you about the marriage promise.”

He sat up straight and leaned forward, “What is it?”

She breathed in and nodded, stealing herself before saying, “there is one way it can be broken.”

“Yes?”

She squared her shoulders to his, eyes boring deep into him.

“Draco… It is imperative that you allow yourself to fall completely in love with Hermione Granger, and that she respond in equal measure to you.”

He felt a sudden whoosh of fear flow through his very being. His throat was tight when he next spoke, “Why- what- what do you mean?”

“The only way a marriage promise can be broken is if one of the parties falls truly in love with another witch or wizard, and that love is reciprocated in full.”

Draco stared at her, aghast. For a moment neither said anything.

Finally Draco asked, “So… how does- er, how does it work?”

“Well,” she said tentatively, “I am not exactly sure, just as I am not sure how the unbreakable vow knows if you have broken it. I suspect it causes a magical… disturbance of sorts.”

“So… is it possible that the promise is already broken? Given…”

She shook her head, saying, “You’ve already told me that you can’t call it love and I think you’re correct. It sounds like where you and Miss Granger are right now is something closer to lust.”

He bristled at hearing his mother describe him as lustful, however accurate she may be.

“But why specifically Hermione? I mean, you’re correct in thinking I have no other prospects, but you seem to specifically feel that she-”

She interrupted, “When the Dark Lord branded you with that mark, Hermione Granger became your mortal enemy, someone you would be forced to torture, maim, or kill, or face those consequences yourself. To turn around and profess a true and undying love for that sort of person would, I believe, counteract any amount of dark magic used to seal this marriage promise.”

Draco breathed heavily as he tried to process what his mother was saying to him.

“But Draco,” she said, placing her hand on his forearm, “it will be desperately tricky. You cannot and must not verbally refuse to marry Astoria. I believe the consequences of doing so would be instantaneous and… disastrous. I do not know the clauses your Father and Astoria’s have put on this bond, but they are sure to be strong. It will require quite a magnitude of love to break.”

Draco nodded, solemnly, taking it all in.

The guard knocked on the door to signal that 20 minutes was up.

“Ten more minutes here, thank you,” he managed to say, through ragged breathing.

“So,” he began, “I’m to do what now? Proceed as if the wedding is going to happen and find some way to- to… make Hermione fall in love with me? In the next month?” he finished rather desperately.

“And to allow yourself to fall in love with her, it is absolutely necessary for it to be reciprocal.”

“But- how… what if…” he said, rather feebly.

Stirred by his quiet desperation, Narcissa stood from her chair and came over to kneel beside him.

Gently, she said, “Draco, if you shared a kiss… if you came here biting back tears after only one intimate moment with the girl and in such a short period of time… I expect that neither of you are far from falling. Love acts on the heart like a fever at first. It burns, it’s painful and exhilarating. But it also- can be made firm when it is tested.”

“What are you inferring?” he asked.

“I don’t want to explain it any further, and I couldn’t possibly. I believe this is something you’ll have to come to on your own. It’s not a matter of following directions from anywhere but here,” and she pressed a hand to his heart.

He didn’t respond, but stared blankly at the floor, a look of horror flooding his face.

“But what if- what if I’ve been too darkened? What if I’m not actually capable… of true love?”

—

Hermione emerged from the Delacour’s library about three hours later, having combed the shelves extensively, finding a number of books with mention of pureblood marriage promises, and stories about various ways that they were worked around, in addition to disastrous ones about the ways in which the couples lives were destroyed due to not adhering to them.

Unfortunately, the stories were almost exclusively of the latter variety.

She clutched a page of notes in her hands, which she began to skim through as she walked.

Pureblood Marriage Promise Notes

Terms:“Marriage Promise” - ancient magic designed ensure the continued reproduction of pureblood wizard kind, bonding two suitable pure-blood witch/wizards together – established at birth by the families “Bonded” – term for the couple promised to each other “Un-bonded” – any other witch or wizard not involved in promise “Clause” – dark-magic-based “terms” of the promise, should it be violated (see examples) “Loopholes” – three natural ways out of the marriage promise (see list)

Various couples who’d refused to marry endured hardships due to marriage promise clauses

Some examples: -in every subsequent relationship, the un-bonded person they loved died - unable to have physical contact with opposite sex without experiencing searing internal pain, akin to cruciatus curse. -non-bonded couple got pregnant and eloped - baby died in-utero at 6 weeks - mother had had to carry baby to full term - experienced full pregnancy - mother died in childbirth - father took his own life [Could Astoria’s baby be harmed this way?] quite worrying

Note: All examples began with couple verbally refusing to marry!

Loopholes -one of the pair falls fatally ill -one of the pair is imprisoned with no clear release date (Draco) -one of the pair disappears mysteriously

(Last loophole caused many couples to try and fake a disappearance – always unsuccessfully!!!)

Clauses -Not an original part of the marriage promise evocation, added later using dark magic (!) -Threat of clauses caused most witches and wizards to surrender to their marriage promise early on

Removal and subsequent re-bonding of a marriage promise? No concrete information on how this is achieved

One theory: that it would require substantial dark magic to achieve, as a bond was not intended to be broken in the first place

Two known accounts of a bond being successfully broken outside of the 3 loopholes - No much information given on how

Hermione sighed as she walked through the halls of the Delacour estate, making her way to the front entrance fireplace. She had missed the conclusion of the brunch and Gabrielle had come into the library to let her know that the family would be going out that afternoon, but she could remain as long as she’d liked and could feel free to use their floo to leave. Everyone else had gone as well, Ron and Harry both stopping in to say goodbye, which she’d hardly acknowledged. She felt a bit guilty about that now, though she supposed it was a behavior that were certainly no strangers to.

The Delacour’s had arranged a special floo connection back to Britain for their out of town guests leaving from the brunch. This had to be arranged with the Ministry of Magic, and would only be open for another hour or so. Hermione had decided to cut her research off so she’d have time to send an owl to Draco before leaving for her flat in London. The trouble was, she had no idea what to say.

Earlier that morning it had seemed fun to wait for him to reach out to her, but she had gone far past fun, moved into worry, and now landed on sheer panic. Why hadn’t she heard from him? Should she write to him at all?

She had hoped she would find some clear information in the library so that she could go to him with a plan, but the library had failed her, which always felt like a betrayal in and of itself, and now he was also not contacting her. What was she to infer by this behavior?

Just as she’d reached the height of her frustration, and eagle owl soared in through the owl hatch at the top of the front door and landed on the stone mantel, right next to a large green bag of floo powder. Hermione hadn’t seen this owl since Hogwarts, but knew who it belonged it. She untied the small scroll of parchment and unfurled it.

Hermione,

As you read this, I am on my way to Malfoy Manor to visit the library there. I have news that I need to share with you as soon as possible, would you be willing to meet me there? The floo will be open. Please bring Ptolemy along if you do, it will save him the flight back.

If you are unwilling, send him back to let me know.

Draco

PS – I cannot stop thinking about your lips. You are pure heaven.

She stared down at the note, feeling such a variety of emotions that she could hardly breathe. Suddenly, the parchment turned into what looked like ash and dissolved into nothingness, without leaving a trace on her hands or in the air.

She turned to look at Ptolemy who was waiting, expectantly, and then looked down at the floo. Taking her cue, he flew over to land on her shoulder. She drifted imperiously over to the mantel, taking up a handful of floo powder, turning the flames green, and shouting her destination as she stepped into the wide stone hearth.

[anistarrose]

Some Sunny Day - Ch. 1: Prologue (Gravity Falls Same Coin Theory)

Summary:  Time isn’t linear, Stan has a catchy piano tune stuck in his head, and blue flames threaten to consume the peace that the Pines family has found.

Warnings: None for this chapter

Next chapter

AO3

(Based off the Same Coin Theory by @dubsdeedubs and @renmorris, a longtime favorite theory of mine!)

The gryphon they encountered on the rocky Alaskan island was nothing like those that Stanford had met before. The near-omniscience was impressive enough, but given what he knew about gryphon vocal cords, Ford almost thought the fluent English was even more extraordinary. Almost.

“Stanford and Stanley Pines,” it addressed them, not moving its beak at all. “Though you’ve both gone by other names at different times — most notably in Stanley’s case, of course.”

It gently floated to the ground, then folded up its wings and began to groom (preen?) its chest fur.

“I’d appreciate it if you put your weapons away,” it told them. “Though I don’t blame you for that sort of reaction. I am something an outlier among my family.”

It spoke the word family in a way that made Ford suspect it was referring to its entire species. And seeing as this gryphon was the only one they’d met that hadn’t tried to eat them, Ford was inclined to agree with it.

“Of course. We apologize,” Ford told it, holstering his gun. He noticed that the gryphon was a bit smaller than the ones he’d seen before, though not drastically, and its wings were a darker dappled brown instead of the usual beige. Were the biological differences a result of its unique abilities, he wondered, or were those abilities an adaptation made in response to the disadvantages the biological differences caused? Being nothing if not a scientist, he couldn’t help but ask.

“If you don’t mind the question, what is it that makes you you? What is the cause of this outlier status?”

The gryphon tilted its head at him like a dog expecting a treat. Ford supposed it didn’t get very many chances to talk about its talents — or talk to anyone, really — in this barren environment.

“You could probably trace it all back to my precognizance,” it told him. “I can see into many different times, but knowledge of the future was what changed me most.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah? Give us an example of this future knowledge.”

Ford could relate to Stan’s skepticism. Most people would have believed it without a second thought — the gryphon had addressed them by name, after all — but being raised by a fake psychic tended to make you suspicious of such things.

“Gladly,” the gryphon replied. “First of all: there is a reunion awaiting in your future.”

Aware of the usual cold reading tricks, Stan and Ford stayed silent, careful not to give the gryphon any extra information.

“You’ll return to a familiar situation, but you aren’t trapped in a cycle — there once was a cycle, but you’ve already broken out of it. You will, however, reminisce on past mistakes, and the correction of those mistakes. And you’ll both find answers to questions you didn’t know you had — at least not consciously.”

It paused. “Is that sufficient? I don’t want to go and spoil everything, you know.”

Stan and Ford exchanged a look.

“The ‘reunion’ thing means spendin’ another summer with the kids, I guess?” Stan suggested.

“Probably.” They had indeed been planning to reunite with the kids in Gravity Falls next month. “Returning to a familiar place… that’s Gravity Falls, of course, but I have no idea what cycle we used to be trapped in.”

“Petty arguments and grudges?”

“Fair enough, I suppose. But what about the questions we didn’t know we had?”

“Well, right now we don’t know we have ‘em, duh.”

Ford sighed. The predictions were vague, but the more specific parts seemed plausible. Only the passage of time would allow him to seriously assess their accuracy… though Stan, for his part, had taken the whole thing (relatively) seriously, which meant he probably believed it was real. And given how skilled Stan was at spotting scams, his gut instinct was more than good enough for Ford, even as unscientific as it was.

“That’s sufficient. We believe you,” Ford told the gryphon. “But if you don’t mind, how exactly did you gain this ability? Is it inherent, or acquired?”

The gryphon spread its wings — preparing to take flight, Ford realized. He knew gryphons didn’t like staying in one place for too long, but he’d hoped this particular one would stick around for a bit longer — he just had so many questions…

“Time isn’t linear,” it said, “you of all people should realize that.”

(Was it just Ford’s imagination, or did the gryphon look briefly at Stanley?)

“That means that seeing the future really isn’t all that difficult. A lot of people can do it — at least to some extent — if they’re taught the right way. But if you must know — well, I can’t go spilling all of my secrets, but I will leave you with this: there is a being I am indebted to in many ways, a being that itself sees many things that from your perspective are yet to come.”

For a second, Ford was afraid that that was all they were going to get, that the gryphon would fly away and leave them with only questions and no answers. But then, it added:

“Stanford Pines, I believe you’ve heard of the Axolotl during your travels?”

And with that, it took to the sky and didn’t look back.

Well, that was an answer that just raised more questions in its place, Ford thought, his mind whirling as Stan gave him a concerned look. But I’ll take it. I’ll definitely take it.

“Ford? Earth to Ford?” Stan asked. He may have repeated it a couple times; Ford wasn’t really sure. “I’m guessing you do know something?”

“Yes, something. You could say that,” Ford finally answered. “Let’s get back to the boat and pray we have an Internet connection. There are a lot of things I want look into.”

***

“We’ll meet again…”

Stan was by no means a good singer, but Ford thought he’d gotten used to it over the past eight months. And really, he was used to it — it was just the song that he couldn’t bear to listen to.

“Don’t know where, don’t know when…”

He was trying to ignore it, to not make a big deal out of something he shouldn’t have cared about, not after the better part of a year had passed, but —

“But I know we’ll meet again, some —”

“Could you shut it already?” Ford snapped, slamming his fist onto the rail of the Stan O’ War II with more force than he’d intended and instantly regretting it. Not so much because it hurt his hand (though it was a little painful), but because he worried how Stan might react to it — not well, that was for certain.

But Stan just gave him a look that was more concerned than hurt. “Whoa, Poindexter, I’ve been singin’ for about six seconds. Somethin’ wrong?”

Ford looked down. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t like that song. Do you think you could sing something else?” He could have elaborated on why that song unnerved him so much, and Stan probably would have understood right away, but Ford had stayed up unhealthily late the past night researching and wasn’t in the mood to talk about Weirdmageddon.

And Stan couldn’t have possibly have believed him that it was that simple — Ford never snapped at him unless he did something remarkably stupid or unintentionally triggered a painful memory, and Stan wasn’t doing anything remotely stupid or risky at the moment — but he didn’t question Ford.

“Meh, my voice is kinda tired anyway.” It was a blatant lie, and the attempt to change the topic that he followed it up with was just as blatant. “So, you figure out anything else about that salamander god?”

Ford accepted the escape route Stan had offered him. “Well, technically I suppose I have, but not nearly as much as I would have liked.”

They’d spent three days sailing south since the gryphon encounter, and despite their Internet connection holding out far better than Ford had ever dreamed of, he’d hadn’t been able to find very many things that he hadn’t already known.

“It manifested itself to countless groups across the multiverse, I’m sure of that, but it seems that the only surviving records in our dimension were created by the Aztecs. And you know I’ve already read nearly everything there is to read about their god Xolotl.”

“Yeah, god of ‘twins and deformities.’ You’ve had that obsession since, like, middle school.” Stan tried not to pronounce the names of the god or the amphibian if he could avoid them. “And you even had one of the pink frilly guys in your lab.”

“I wish we could visit Mexico to conduct more research of our own,” Ford mused. “I have a vague idea for a summoning ritual, but I need more…” He paused as Stan’s words sank in.

“Yeah, too bad the kids will never forgive us if we skip out on them this summer to search for a magical fish lizard,” Stan told him, not realizing anything was wrong. “And I can’t remember what name my all my arrest warrants in Mexico were put out under…”

“Stanley, wait. You said you found an axolotl in my lab?”

Stan blinked. “Yeah, the one in the fish tank. I was afraid I was gonna accidentally kill him or somethin’ after you… ya know, fell through the portal, ‘cause I didn’t know what to feed him or how to clean his tank, but the little guy stuck around almost until you got back. You… you knew about it, right?”

“Almost until I got back?!” Ford asked. “Axolotls can live for fifteen years if they’re cared for well, but twice that?!”

“Yeah, I always wondered if you did some weird spell on it or somethin’. But… you really didn’t know about it?”

“I never kept an axolotl in the Shack,” Ford confirmed. “I honestly would have loved to have one as a pet, but I didn’t have the time to take care of one. They require a specific type of food, a specific temperature range, a specific type of materials in their tank… I can’t imagine any way one could have gotten there by natural means!”

“Would it freak you out more if I told you it just disappeared a couple days after the kids showed up last summer? Literally nothin’ left behind, like it dissolved in the tank or somethin’?”

Ford slammed his hand against his forehead. “Stanley, I can’t believe you had a ghost axolotl in your house for three decades and never brought it up until now.”

“Hey, how am I supposed to know what’s normal for pink salamanders? They could have all lived that long and disappeared like that, and I would have sounded like an idiot for bringing it up!”

Ford shook his head. “It has to all be connected!” For about the seventh time, he regretted not bringing a bulletin board and red string with him on the Stan O’ War II. “Your axolotl, the god Xolotl, the countless references I’ve heard across the multiverse to a benevolent creature that guards against evil and patronizes those with prophetic ability…”

“So… you really think it was the Axolotl in that tank all those years?”

“I think it’s quite probable. But… just what would the Axolotl want with you, Stanley?”

***

Ford had fretted over the Axolotl for several more minutes before they encountered what had to have been some sort of cursed seagull — no normal bird could possibly crap that much, right? — and their attention was very quickly drawn elsewhere.

As they were cleaning up the aftermath of the attack, Ford mentioned something about the Axolotl probably knowing that Stan was destined to defeat Bill, but he quickly abandoned the thought to continue cursing out seagulls in every alien language he knew. The explanation must have at least partially satisfied him, though, since when they went ashore that evening Ford fell asleep almost immediately in the hotel.

“I’d still like to do more research, of course,” he told Stan before completely losing consciousness. “Maybe we could sail south after this summer, visit the region where the Axolotl manifested himself as Xolotl. But I do think it’s likely that he paid you a visit knowing about your eventual role in Cipher’s downfall.”

Stan wasn’t as satisfied, for reasons he couldn’t quite pin down. Rare were the times when Stan was the twin lying awake at night, thinking about the day’s unsolved mysteries, but tonight, for whatever reason, he’d transformed into the resident sleepless conspiracy theorist.

He had a weird gut feeling telling him there was something he was missing — forgetting? — about the Axolotl, and he’d learned to trust his gut over the years — it had saved him so many times he’d lost track. His subconscious apparently knew a hell of a lot more than he did — though that really wasn’t much of an achievement, he figured.

There was a weird sense of urgency to his gut feeling today. Stan wasn’t sure he’d be able to describe it if he’d tried. There was just a hard-to-explain emotion — not really fear, he didn’t think, but definitely not a positive emotion, either — that rose up in his chest whenever he thought of the future: of returning to Gravity Falls, of reuniting with Dipper and Mabel and everyone else, of actually traveling to Mexico with Ford one day to learn more about and maybe even meet the Axolotl.

Big things are coming, he thought. And I can’t stop them.

Then he thought, Come on, Stan, you’re getting as paranoid as Sixer. Next thing you’re going to be keeping a diary all written in code.

So he ignored his gut and let himself fall asleep, a familiar tune about reunions and clouds and sunlight running through his head just as it had been ever since leaving that barren Alaskan island.

L wrog brx wkdw zh’g phhw djdlq Vdlg L glgq’w nqrz zkhuh ru zkhq. Exw qrz wkh vxq lv vklqlqj Vr pdbeh zh’oo uhdolch L’p qrw frplqj edfn RQH GDB — L’yh EHHQ edfn iru rxu zkroh olyhv.

Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated as always! 

I’m aiming for weekly updates, but I can’t promise anything, especially if I’m struck with inspiration for other unrelated one-shots and the like. I have the whole plot planned out, and completed fic will probably be about 14 total chapters, plus or minus two.

[eccacia]

wonderful you came by [part 16]

Summary: Caitlin’s a no-nonsense science major. Barry’s the quintessential charming star athlete. When they’re paired off and forced to interact in class, Caitlin’s determined to resist his charms, but Barry’s also pretty determined to get under her skin… It all boils down to a battle between head and heart, and Caitlin’s not one to give in to her heart so easily. [College AU]

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, or read on ff.net

Rating: T

Notes: I know it’s been five months, but… Look! An update! Sorry I’ve been gone awhile. This chapter was tough, life’s been tough, being newly unemployed is tough, etc. etc. Anyway, I miss you all. This is more of a friendship chapter, since I want to wrap up all the loose ends and lay the groundwork for the last plot point. After this, I’m estimating we have 1-2 more chapters to go and then an epilogue (AAAAH! Can you believe it?!) so I hope you’ll stick around. :)

Some shout-outs: To Gaby, as always, for the encouragement, and in celebration of our three-year long friendship on this site. To @panalegs27, for the unwavering enthusiastic support and the messages that make me smile. To @purpleyin, who, to my great surprise and delight, left a review on all my stories and on every chapter in this fic (!!!). To Random Lurker, for leaving such a sweet review; it made my terrible day better. And, last but not the least, to Of Pencils and Penguins (formerly The Pickle System), who beta-read this chapter in a flash (pun fully intended)—he fixed all the pesky grammatical errors, cleaned up my dialogue, and pointed out the scenes that needed tweaking or rewriting. I can’t thank you enough. This chapter won’t be what it is without your help. :)

Disclaimer: Nope, I don’t own The Flash.

Barry parted ways with her outside of her dorm, and as she moved from the open, starry night to the closed, fluorescent-lit hallways of the building to her dark, unoccupied room, unease replaced the earlier sense of lightness she’d felt. She’d been harboring this sense of unease since her fight with Felicity yesterday, but her anxiety about the orals and about Barry had dominated such a large portion of her emotional landscape that this unease had receded into the background.

But now, faced with a Felicity-less room, which had been voided of the sounds of their easy companionship—the scrape of the wheels of her chair against the floor, the quick, light tapping of her fingers on her laptop, the rip of Swiss Miss packets at the end of a long day—Caitlin felt the unease return with a vengeance.

She slumped into her chair. How was it that she managed to push two people who were important to her away in the space of a week? For someone who’d always thought of herself as self-sufficient and fiercely independent, she was realizing how emotionally affected she could be when the relationships in her life went awry.

Well, at least she knew Felicity better than she did Barry. She knew, for instance, that her friend dealt with her hurt by avoiding its cause, and that while she was in this avoidance phase, it was best to give her space. But she also knew that approaching her first was already winning half the battle. So it boiled down to timing—intuiting when enough time had passed since the avoidance started, and intuiting when the best time was to approach her.

It was, she supposed, the same way Felicity would tiptoe around her when she was deep in work mode, hazarding guesses at the best time to disturb her. She had guessed wrong yesterday—had prodded her at the wrong time, in the wrong way—and much to her shame, she had exploded.

She grimaced. She could call Oliver right now to ask if he’d seen her, but she was already so tired. There’d been more emotions packed into this day than she’d had in her entire twenty-something years of existence, and even if some of those emotions were pleasant, she still felt incredibly drained.

Tomorrow, then, she thought, crawling into her bed. She’d apologize tomorrow.

The next day, Caitlin set about to look for her friend in all her usual haunts, but as expected, she couldn’t find her in any of them. She texted Cisco on the off-chance that he’d seen her, but he merely replied with, “? u can call her? and aren’t u roommates” and, a few seconds later, “OH wait r u fighting :( idk where she is bt i hope u make up soon”.

So she had no choice but to give Oliver a call, which, in the first place, had been the most logical thing to do.

…But also the most awkward, because she and Oliver weren’t exactly on calling terms. There was also the fact that she had been staunchly against them when Felicity had really started liking him. Sure, she’d been the one to dare her to talk to him, but she’d done it because she’d believed that her friend had more common sense than to fall for the shallowest rich boy on campus, and because she didn’t think that Felicity was Oliver’s type.

Needless to say, Felicity did not have as much common sense as she’d expected, and Oliver turned out to be decent under his party-boy exterior. While she was right in guessing that Felicity wasn’t his type, she hadn’t guessed that he’d fall for her anyway. He’d liked Felicity so much that, upon sensing Caitlin’s unspoken antagonism, sought to prove all her previous notions of him wrong—he cleaned up his act, stopped flirting with every leggy girl he came across, and stopped hanging out with the shadier cliques in the popular crowd—until she finally came to accept them together.

Still, that didn’t mean they would be besties, or that they’d take to each other the same way Felicity had taken to Digg and Barry and Tommy and the rest of Oliver’s friends. They were content to regard each other with civility.

Which brought her back to her current dilemma: She and Oliver were civil, but not on calling terms.

She sighed. Well, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. They would have to be on calling terms now if they both cared about Felicity.

Having decided on her course of action, she sent him a short text to ask when he was free to take a call. His answer was immediate: “Now is good.” He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey. You’re looking for Felicity?” he said.

Well, if there was one thing Caitlin respected him for, it was his propensity for cutting right to the chase.

“Yes,” she said. “Did she stay over at your place?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But she left for class this morning, and she hasn’t been back yet. I thought she’d headed to the dorm.”

Caitlin frowned. “Well… she’s definitely not here.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “She’s… been really down the past few days,” he ventured tentatively. “Said something about this being a replay of sophomore year, but didn’t go into the specifics.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Care to elaborate?” His tone was careful. “I mean, when my girlfriend and one of my best friends share a bottle of Smirnoff from my bar because of the same person, I feel like I deserve an explanation from the said person.”

Caitlin winced. “Can said person just buy you another bottle of Smirnoff instead?”

“Nice try,” he said wryly. “Spare me the details with Barry, I know way too much already. I just want to hear about the whole… sophomore year thing. If… that’s okay. She—she usually tells me everything, and I can’t—I don’t know how to talk to her if she doesn’t—talk. To me.”

When he said those last two sentences, Oliver sounded as if he was having a nail extracted for every word he spoke. She could almost see his grimace deepening the more he talked. Strangely enough, it comforted her, because this was something she could identify with. He was nearly as emotionally stunted as she was, stripped of that glamorous façade, and she imagined that she had the same expression that he had now whenever she talked about her feelings. Granted, this was the same reason they couldn’t be friends, and were instead friends with people like Felicity and Barry who were so open about their feelings that they were practically begging to be taken advantage of, but still. This kind of kinship was also comforting. Painfully awkward, but comforting.

So Caitlin took a deep breath and proceeded to tell him about sophomore year—the year they had their first real fight as friends.

It happened towards the end of their first term as sophomores. She’d been swamped with so many requirements and had been putting so much pressure on herself that she’d turned down all of Felicity’s invitations to parties, dinners, and even their hallowed Sunday lunches. Sometimes she didn’t even bother to acknowledge her in the room, because she didn’t want a break in her concentration. This went on for a month, until Felicity gave up trying to talk to her altogether. She avoided all their usual haunts and materialized in their room only to sleep. It was a miserable few months for both of them (and for Cisco, who’d shuttled back and forth between them), and it went on for as long as it did because, ironically, it had been easier to keep snubbing each other than to break their deadlock.

“Eventually, I just swallowed my pride and just went up to her during lunch. And even before I said anything, she burst out crying and hugged me,” Caitlin said.

He chuckled. “That sounds like her.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she said. She decided to leave out the embarrassingly sappy things they told each other that time, like when Felicity told her, in between hiccups, You know, real talk—I’d get over a breakup with a guy faster than a breakup with you. Like, a friend break-up. Because guys are so… replaceable, you know? And there’s only one of you, and… where’ll I ever find another Caitlin Snow?

She didn’t think Oliver would respond favorably to that.

After their tearful reunion, though, they’d implicitly agreed never to talk about that time again. It seemed they both knew that the smooth continuation of their friendship hinged on completely burying that hatchet. So Felicity continued to tiptoe around her when she was busy, and continued to clam up when she was hurt. Maybe that was why she thought that her recent blow-up was an echo of sophomore year.

“She’s in Jitters, by the way,” Oliver said. “She told me not to tell you, but I don’t like seeing her miserable, and I don’t think I’m the person to cheer her up.”

“Oh,” she said. “Um, thanks.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just… go talk to her. And make sure that she doesn’t steal too many drinks from my bar.”

Her lips lifted into a small smile. “The former, I can promise. The latter, not so much.”

. . .

In a way, it made sense that Felicity was at Jitters. Since she knew that Caitlin was avoiding Barry, and that Barry frequented Jitters, then she must have thought that there was a good chance that Caitlin would also avoid Jitters.

It didn’t take long to spot Felicity’s messy high ponytail in the crowd, and she was so deeply absorbed in her work that she didn’t even feel her approach.

“Hey,” Caitlin said, touching her shoulder, and Felicity immediately startled in her seat.

“Oh my God! Don’t scare me like th—”

When she saw it was her, though, she schooled her expression into a neutral one. The change was so dramatic that it unnerved her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” God, she was terrible at this. “Can I… Is this seat taken?”

“No.”

This was agonizing. Any dim hope she’d harbored of this being like their first make-up was quashed.

“Felicity,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Silence. And then, “Okay.”

“Okay as in…?”

She shrugged. “It’s fine.”

It was decidedly not fine. Felicity was not as adept at hiding her emotions as she thought, because Caitlin could see her trying to hide them. “Felicity…”

Silence. And then, softly, “I’ve been tiptoeing around you for years, did you know that?” she said. “No, wait—you probably never noticed, but I’ve been doing it since we started rooming together. Since our first year. When things would get busy—for both of us, not just for you—you would transform into this ticking time bomb. One wrong move on my part, and you’d explode.”

Caitlin sat very still. “I… never knew,” she said. “It’s just…”

She trailed off. She was about to say that it was a bad habit she’d picked up from her father, who’d regarded disturbances—a category which even his young, too-inquisitive daughter and his flaky wife fell into—with murderous intent, so everyone had always adjusted to him without question or complaint. But this sounded like an excuse, and in a rare flash of human insight, Caitlin saw that an excuse wouldn’t save their friendship.

So she held her tongue.

Felicity continued, “Every time you get like that, I have to worry about how to get you to eat and function like a normal human being without risking our friendship. Do you know how tiring that gets?”

Caitlin exhaled. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I never meant you to feel like…” She paused to gather the right words. “Like I’d only be friends with you if you never made me mad.”

“Yeah, but that’s how you come off sometimes,” Felicity said. “Would it hurt to say, ‘Hey, Felicity, I’m really stressed and I don’t want to talk about it now’? It’s not hard. I mean, I let you know when I’m about to binge-code so you’d know better than to expect me to clean my part of the room for the rest of the week.”

“Or shower, for that matter,” Caitlin couldn’t help saying. When she realized her misstep she quickly amended it with, “Sorry—”

“God, not relevant, Cait,” Felicity said.

“Sorry,” Caitlin said. She’d unknowingly slipped back into their usual easy banter at the worst possible time. “Sorry.”

Her friend’s expression was now shuttered, and Caitlin had the sinking feeling that she’d blown her attempt at reconciliation.

The silence stretched between them.

“Felicity,” she finally said, unable to bear it, “I’m sorry, I really am. Please don’t shut me out.”

“Oh, you mean like what you do to me?”

Caitlin winced. The accusation rang so true that it hurt. The silence grew more and more tense the longer those words hung in the air, and she frantically reached for something appropriate to say.

“I… It… was wrong of me… to do that to you,” she said quietly. “You didn’t deserve any of it.” A pause. “I’ve been an asshole friend. I’m sorry.”

Felicity fiddled with the keys of her laptop. She gave no indication of having heard her.

A crazy sense of desperation seized her. She felt like she would do anything—anything—to get Felicity to talk to her, anything to draw her out of that damning silence… It made her more painfully aware that this was the same emotional distress she put Felicity (and Barry, for that matter) through whenever she gave her the cold shoulder. She would never do this again, she thought vehemently. She would never make her friends—her best friend—feel this shitty ever again, if said best friend would still care to talk to her. No wonder Felicity had burst out crying last time the moment she approached… Any move to break this kind of silence would have brought on waves of delirious relief.

Felicity continued fiddling with her keys. She uncrossed her legs. She leaned back against her chair. She let out a breath, and since it was so quiet between them, Caitlin could tell that this breath was a beat longer than was normal.

Felicity seemed to be on the verge of speaking. Caitlin braced herself.

“You’re not an asshole friend,” she finally said. She still wasn’t looking at her, but at least she was talking to her. She was talking to her. “You just… revert to assholic behavior when stressed.”

Caitlin held her breath. That was it. That was Felicity’s olive branch. She would have sagged in her seat from sheer relief, but she had to play this right.

“Assholic behavior,” she said carefully.

“What, you’re not used to Feliciticisms yet?” her friend said, finally looking at her. A small smile stretched across her face.

Caitlin blinked. She smiled. Definitely a good sign. Definitely a sign to play along, to ease back into the usual banter of their friendship. “I still can’t figure out how you say that,” she said. “Felicisms would have been a lot easier on the tongue.”

“Yes, but I’m a Felicity, not a Felici,” she said. “Although, come to think of it, Felici sounds a lot chicer.”

“True.” Caitlin paused and took a risk. “Probably why it doesn’t suit you.”

“Hey. You were the one who proposed Felicism.”

She tried to contain her smile. “Because it would be easier to pronounce, not because you look like a Felici.”

“Same banana.”

“No, they’re not. And for the record, there are more than 1,000 discovered varieties of bananas in the world.”

“Okay, just, no,” Felicity said. “How do you even know stuff like that?”

“The same way you know who invented ramen.”

“Technically, Momofuku Ando invented instant noodles, not…” She trailed off. “…Right. Point taken.”

Caitlin nodded. “The internet is a dark place.”

“Ah, yes. Two young, impressionable women frequenting websites with lurid pictures of bananas and noodles—positively scandalous.”

They shared a smile.

“Just… give me that heads-up, okay?” Felicity said, sobering. “So I know how to help you. Like how you fix my bed and buy me takeout when I’m binge-coding, or how you let me interrupt you to whine about how hard troubleshooting a faulty segment is. Even if you have zero idea of what I’m talking about.”

“Okay,” Caitlin said. She would’ve agreed to anything at this point. “I can’t promise I’ll always be able to do it, but I’ll try. I’ll really try.”

“You better,” Felicity said, grinning. “We’ve been friends for almost seven years. I’d say it merits some amount of trying.”

“Well, seven years is only slightly longer than some marriages, after all. I can manage more than some amount of trying.”

Felicity’s smile softened. “So. Friends?”

“Friends,” she affirmed. “Seven years and counting.” She paused. “I think we’re supposed to hug at this point, but can I just give you a mental hug? I’ve reached my sappiness limit for the day.”

Felicity laughed. “Mental hug accepted. I knew there was something weird about you today.”

“Well, I was apologizing to you. I had to summon the appropriate amount of sappiness.”

“Have you been manipulating me with sappiness?”

“I wouldn’t call it manipulation,” Caitlin said primly. “It’s more like scheduling sappiness usage for a rainy day.”

“By scheduling sappiness,” Felicity said, her smile turning wicked, “do you also mean the Saturday night you spent with a certain Bartholomew Henry Allen under the stars?”

“That was an unscheduled and unintentional leakage of sappiness,” Caitlin said. “And how much do you already know, anyway?”

“Only that you kissed,” Felicity said with feigned nonchalance. “No big deal. It was only your first kiss, after all, which you kept a secret for almost a week from your best friend, your companion since girlhood, the sister of your heart—”

“Are you done with the melodramatics?” she said dryly.

“—oh, wait, I’ll have to call Cisco and Jax,” Felicity said, pulling her phone out. “They need to hear this. It’s more time-efficient, too, since you’ll only have to tell the story once.”

“Time-efficient,” Caitlin repeated. “You’re talking to me about time efficiency.”

“Yeah. What, think I haven’t learned a thing or two about your reasoning after seven years of being the foremost Caitlin Snow scholar? Although,” she mused, “it looks like I’ll soon have to relinquish that title soon, since a certain Barry Allen is proving to be a quick study—”

“Felicity, you’re rambling,” Caitlin said.

“That was hardly—oh, fine, calling them…”

“Can you tell them that we’ll meet in front of the library instead?” Caitlin said, casting a furtive glance around them. “Jitters is kind of—”

“His turf, right,” Felicity said. “Got it.” She tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder, and slipped her laptop into her bag. “Hey Cisco, any chance you’re free now…?”

. . .

“Ola, ladies,” Cisco said, making his way to their table with his usual grin. Even from afar, they heard him coming by the tinkle of the many keychains he’d hung all over his backpack. “Glad to see you two have reconciled. I thought I’d have to be your messenger again or something.”

“Yeah, well,” Felicity said. “Signs of maturity, I guess.”

“Boring,” Cisco said. “In a good way, I mean. No one needs drama all the time, am I right?”

“You sure? Because Caitlin has a lot of drama to tell.”

“Oooh, saucy. You sure are getting a lot of drama lately, come to think of it,” Cisco said. “Where was all this in high school? And in the last, I don’t know, two years in college—”

“I don’t know, Cisco, I don’t think one can space out the dramatic events in one’s life—”

“Rhetorical question, chica,” he said breezily, waving a hand. “I’m sure you know what that is—”

“What’s up, guys?” Jax said, sliding into the seat beside Cisco. He pocketed his phone and dropped his duffel bag to the ground. “Is this an update on Barry or what?”

“Well,” Caitlin said, “somewhat.”

“I am so excited,” Felicity said. “I can’t wait to hear your version of the kiss.”

“THE KISS?!” Cisco gaped. “Whoa, okay, slow down, this is too much—”

“I… haven’t even started yet…”

“Her version?” Jax interjected, looking at Felicity. “What other version is there?”

“Dude,” Cisco said. “I can’t believe that’s what you fixated on.”

“I heard it first from Barry,” Felicity said, waving a hand. “Anyway, long story, and not exactly relevant—”

“Not exactly rele—Felicity, what was his version?” Caitlin said suddenly. “What did he tell you?”

“Oh, pretty vague stuff,” she said. “Mostly it was about you breaking his heart.”

Cisco blinked. “Is it just me, or are things moving way too fast?”

“Last I heard you weren’t even sure if he liked you,” Jax said, also confused, “and now you already broke up? And if you”—he gestured to Felicity—“and Barry’re tight, why didn’t you just ask him for advice, instead of asking us?”

“Well,” Felicity mused, “a little Smirnoff goes a long way in solidifying friendships…”

“She and Barry shared a bottle of vodka between them the other night,” Caitlin clarified. “Well, technically, it was Oliver’s vodka, but anyway.”

“Dang,” Jax said. “Any chance I can get an invite to one of those in the future?”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to hang out at Oliver’s pad again,” Cisco said wistfully. “That sound system is to die for…”

“Wait,” Felicity said suddenly, turning to her, “that’s how you knew where to find me—you called Oliver and Oliver told you, that traitor—”

“Yes?” Caitlin said. “You thought I just guessed?”

“Well, I didn’t really—okay, never mind, we’re getting way off topic. So, Cait, tell us what happened last Saturday.”

“We all saw the sing-off,” Cisco said smugly. “And boy, you owe me big time for that—”

“It would’ve been better if you’d given me more drinks,” she muttered. “No chance kissing him if I’d passed out.”

Cisco ignored her. “—and we saw you slow-dancing to that weird Despacito remix,” he said. “Well, Felicity and I did. Jax probably didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, to fill you in, they slow-danced to a Despacito remix.”

He gave Cisco a withering look. “Yeah, I grasped the concept, thanks.”

“You’re caught up, then,” Caitlin said, pleased. “So after the slow-dancing, we went up to the balcony—”

“The one for VIPs?” Jax said.

“Yes, the one for VIPs,” she said. “Anyway, I was slightly tipsy. As a result of faulty judgment, I leaned in to kiss him. I quickly realized it was a mistake, so I left and ignored him for a week. But we made up again just yesterday, so everything’s fine now.”

Silence.

“You know, you gotta brush up on your storytelling skills,” Cisco said.

“For a moment there I thought I was listening to a weather report,” Jax said.

“Well,” Caitlin bristled, “it’s not exactly something I want to recount in detail, so—”

“How did it happen? How did you let it happen? What did you feel?” Cisco insisted, accompanying his words with hand gestures. “What did he do? What did he say? What did you say? What were you thinking?”

“As I’ve already mentioned, I wasn’t thinking—”

“Okay, I think we’re overwhelming her,” Felicity said. “Cisco, ask her something again, only one question at a time.”

“Oh! Oh! I’ll start with this one,” Cisco said. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking this, but I am way curious, so here goes.” He took a deep breath. “Was there tongue?”

Caitlin squirmed. “Oh my God—”

“OH MY GOD,” Cisco said. “OH MY GOD, THERE WAS, WASN’T THERE?”

“OH MY GOD,” Felicity said. “THERE WAS, CISCO, THERE WAS—”

“…The hell is going on?” Jax said. “She hasn’t answered the question yet—”

“If you’re fluent in Caitlin,” Felicity explained, “you’d know that if it isn’t a direct no, then it’s a definite yes.”

“Huh,” Jax said.

“Damn,” Cisco said to Caitlin admiringly. “So you’ve finally lost your tongue-ginity. Welcome to the club.”

Jax scrunched his brow. “I never signed up for that.”

“Did we ever make that a thing?” Felicity said. “I don’t think we ever made that a thing…”

“We totally did. We made it a thing in high school, when I was with Kendra, remember? After we made out in the—”

“Okay, stop,” Felicity said. “I vaguely remember you breaking down that make-out scene, and I don’t want to remember more.”

“I second the motion,” Caitlin said.

“Third,” Jax piped up.

“Fine, this is Caitlin’s show anyway,” Cisco said good-naturedly. “It’s your turn to give us details.”

“No.”

They were all unfazed. “Did he lean in first?” Felicity said. “Or did you?”

Caitlin paused to consider it. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I think we—it was done at the same time.”

“And it lasted for some time,” Cisco prompted, “since there was tongue.”

“Well, it wasn’t unpleasant,” she hedged, “so we were there for some time, but I was the one who put an end to it.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Jax said. “You guys made out and you were really into it, but for some reason, you walked away and ignored him after that.”

“…It doesn’t sound very nice if you put it that way, but yes, basically…”

“What made you ignore him?” Felicity said. Caitlin recognized this voice—it was the one her friend used when she wanted to steer the discussion into a more serious direction. “I’d always assumed that he said something stupid, but…”

“Well,” Caitlin said, “he mentioned that we’ve only known each other two weeks.”

“Which is true,” Cisco said.

“Yes, I know,” she said. “Still, I lost it. I just didn’t think that it was possible—for me, at least—to like someone in such a short time. I was scared of it, of myself, so… I ran away. Ignored him. Pretended like ignoring him could reset me to before I met him.”

There was a pause as the statement hung in the air. It was perhaps the most honest she’d been since last week’s debacle, and they seemed to feel it, too.

“Okay, since things are getting serious,” Cisco said, standing up, “anyone want some food? Nachos, maybe?”

“Dude,” Jax said. “Way to ruin a moment—”

“No, I’m pretty sure Cait doesn’t want to talk about her feelings on an empty stomach,” he said, grinning at her. “Just like how you won’t study chemistry on an empty stomach.”

Caitlin smiled. “It’s fine, Jax. Nachos with beef and bacon bits please.”

“And extra cheese,” Felicity piped in.

“And Diet Coke with no ice,” Caitlin said.

“Same, but with ice and no straw for me,” Felicity said. “Save the environment and all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Cisco said. “Hey, man, how about you?”

Jax looked at them. “You guys are hella weird.”

“But?” Cisco prompted cheekily.

He shrugged. “You’re not bad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Barry does this thing where I’m not sure if he’s complimenting or insulting me,” Caitlin said. “Is that an athlete thing?”

“Way to stereotype us,” Jax said. “And I’m pretty sure that’s called a backhanded compliment.”

Caitlin snapped her fingers. “I knew there was a word for it…”

Cisco went to buy their snacks, and when he came back, the conversation—even with nachos and the best of intentions (particularly Felicity’s)—didn’t quite stay on track. It was, as usual, one-part insight and three-parts insanity, but Caitlin didn’t mind. It was good to be in their company again.

When Monday came around, Caitlin had the uncanny feeling, as she walked out of her dorm, that she was being stared at.

It wasn’t something she realized right away. After all, she’d spent most of her formative years in a state of near-invisibility. The only exception to that was when teachers announced the highest score in class (which, in science subjects, would almost invariably be her) and she would, for a few minutes, be the spotlight of the everyone’s awe and envy. But after class, she drew no more stares, elicited no more whispers. Smart wasn’t as valuable a currency as pretty or sporty was in high school, and she was perfectly content with that, as she never had to expend energy with the sort of self-conscious thinking that came with assuming that her peers were interested in her.

But today, something strange happened. As she walked down the near-deserted hallway of her dorm—it was still early, and the lone souls who were already awake walked around like zombies in their bubbles of half-sleep—she registered the sound of voices in the early morning hush. Out of idle curiosity, she looked around until she found the source of the whisperings—a group of five freshmen, two of whom quickly turned away when her gaze settled on them.

She blinked, wondering if she’d imagined it, and then concluded that she must have. Freshmen, she thought, were especially prone to sticking in groups like that and over-sharing noisily, in hopes that it might translate into friendship.

But then it happened again. When she passed by two more groups of girls outside the dorm and sensed the tickle of whispers in her wake, she wondered if maybe her intuition was right. It was disturbing to suspect that one was the topic of someone else’s conversation without knowing what, exactly, was being said, and without having the means to confront them about it.

So it was when, upon reaching the foyer and seeing Eliza and Bette deep in conversation before abruptly falling quiet when she approached, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Not you, too.”

Bette raised a brow. “Hi, Caitlin.”

Eliza said, “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Caitlin sighed and took her seat across them. With a cursory look, she ascertained that three of the boys from her block were there—no sign of Hartley yet—along with two other people from Applied Chemistry (or was it Chemical Engineering? She could never really keep track). Most of them were half-asleep, using their backpacks to pillow their faces from the cool granite surface of the tables.

“Sorry,” she sighed. “I’ve been having this strange sensation this morning that people have been talking about me. Paranoid, I know—”

Eliza and Bette exchanged glances. Like she and Felicity, the two had been friends for so long that they seemed to be able to communicate just by looking at each other.

Caitlin was immediately suspicious. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Eliza said innocently.

“That look you just shared. It’s suspicious.”

Bette, who was usually quiet and stoic—even more than she was, probably because she was always with the animated Eliza—said, amused, “Aren’t we allowed to look at each other?”

“I think we’re allowed to a few secrets,” Eliza added with a sly smile, “since you’ve obviously been keeping yours.”

Caitlin paused. She knew that these girls meant well—they had a pleasant relationship formed on the basis of their being stranded together in a testosterone-dominated course—but she wasn’t comfortable divulging her feelings to them in the way she had with Felicity, Cisco, and Jax. They were the kind of friends she’d complain on coursework with, not the ones she’d have a heart-to-heart with.

She said cautiously, “If this was about the sing-off…”

“Oh, the sing-off was last week’s news,” Eliza said.

“It’s already been dissected to death while you weren’t around,” Bette said, with an apologetic smile. “It’s common knowledge now that you’re Barry Allen’s new girl.”

Caitlin blinked, feeling strangely violated—or rather erased—by the term. “Okay, no,” she said. “First of all, I am not ‘Barry Allen’s new girl.’ I’m me. I’m still the same Caitlin Snow majoring in Molecular Biology with you.”

“Right, of course,” Eliza said, smiling at her while propping her face up in cupped hands. “But it’s already pretty obvious to everyone that you two are a thing.”

“We’re not…” Caitlin trailed off when she realized she didn’t have anything to say to that, because what were they? They hadn’t gone out on a date yet, so they weren’t dating, but they weren’t a thing, either. Or… were they? In the first place, why in the world did people invent a term as vague as ‘a thing’ anyway? What spectrum of togetherness did ‘a thing’ encompass? And why was it that even before she and Barry had defined what they were to themselves, other people were already clamoring to define their relationship with nosy collective authority? Couldn’t they just mind their own business and leave a budding romantic relationship unlabeled?

Caitlin resisted the urge to press a hand to her temple. She couldn’t deal with this. It was too early in the morning to puzzle out the confusing semantics of human romantic entanglements.

Instead, she said, “Never mind.  Second of all, last week’s news? Was there news this week involving him and me that I, of all people, wouldn’t know of?”

“Oh, I’m sure you know this,” Eliza said, giving her an enigmatic look. Caitlin felt like that look was her cue to spill what she apparently knew, but since she didn’t know anything, she remained quiet.

“If you’ll remember,” Eliza went on, when her pause became awkward, “there was a commotion last night at the dorm. Specifically, outside our wing.”

“What commotion?” Caitlin said, furrowing her brow.

Now, Eliza and Bette exchanged looks that were as bewildered as hers.

“You mean you really didn’t hear the commotion?” Bette said.

“No,” Caitlin said. “Should I have?”

“Oh my God, she has no idea,” Eliza said. “One of the hottest guys on campus is courting her—”

“Courting—of all the sheer nonsense—”

“—and she doesn’t have a clue,” Eliza finished.

“That is ridiculous,” she said. “I don’t know what commotion you’re talking about, but he’s not courting me. All I know is that he left a note on my window with ‘Good morning’ written on it.”

That was the abbreviated version. The full version was as follows:

Good morning :) I know, I know, when I walked you back, you said one week of no texts or calls or voicemails, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t say anything about sticky notes on windows. I’m kind of a pain in the ass, as you can see, aside from being a mildly annoying campus cutie and an insatiable hug monster (only for your hugs, though). Just so you know what you might be getting into. Anyway, I lost my main point for this note sometime after the smiley. I think I was supposed to write a poem, but I got sidetracked, and now I don’t have enough space. Well, I’ll find my main point tomorrow. In the meantime, ‘I miss you’ is probably enough. Can’t wait for Saturday. – Barry

“Mmm,” Bette said. “So you’re telling me that clambering up two floors of the girls’ dorms in the middle of the night, with a bouquet of flowers, a gift, and a note in hand, doesn’t qualify as courting?”

“A bouquet of flowers? How is that even—”

“At first I thought it was Cisco,” Eliza said, “because he visits your room sometimes, right, and he always makes so much noise. But when I opened my window to tell him to tone it down, guess who I saw instead?”

“Oh, by the way, here you go,” Bette said, pulling a single, long-stemmed rose from her backpack and handing it to a dazed Caitlin. “Half of the flowers were crushed during his climb,” she added, by way of explanation. “The others that weren’t crushed lost too many petals. This was the only proper rose left.” She pushed a box towards her. “Also, a gift from him. Said it was fragile.”

“He was supposed to sneak the stuff into your room,” Eliza said, “but he didn’t know that your window would be locked. Obviously he didn’t think things through.”

“Yeah, he also wrote his note on the wrong side of the post-it. We had to give him tape so he could stick the written portion against the glass facing your bed,” Bette said.

“Oh, and to clarify, we”—Eliza said, gesturing to the two of them—“weren’t the ones who gave him tape. Someone from the room below did.”

“It became a sort of group effort,” Bette said.

“Although his best friend—can’t remember her name, the one who wrote that article about sexism on campus—”

“Iris West,” Bette said.

“Right, her. She clearly didn’t support it,” Eliza said. “Stormed out of the dorm when she caught wind of what was happening just to tell him that he was an idiot.”

“She wasn’t yelling, but it was so quiet out there that people could hear what she was saying, anyway.”

“Good thing our dorm mom sleeps like a log.”

“Yeah, and good thing everyone loves Barry, so no one’ll tell on him…”

“It’s really strange that you didn’t hear anything,” Bette said, looking puzzled. “He made so much noise.”

It wasn’t all that strange. She and Felicity slept through the commotion courtesy of the remaining contents of the Smirnoff that she’d brought back from her drinking session with Barry.

“Hello, ladies,” came a voice that Caitlin knew all too well. “Finally got to interrogate her, huh? Do I finally get my—is that a rose? Why the hell do you have a rose?”

“Language, Hartley,” Bette said. “As you can see, the subject is still in shock.”

“The rose is from Allen, isn’t it?” Hartley said, scoffing. “Jesus, how predictable. Even I can tell you aren’t the roses kind.”

“Thank you for your valuable input, Hartley,” Eliza said. “Why don’t you run along now and compare notes with Barry, since you’re such an expert on Caitlin’s botanical preferences?”

“Dial down the bitchiness, sweetheart,” Hartley said. “It’s not even nine yet.”

“The rose isn’t the worst of it, really,” Bette said.

“Oh?” Hartley said gleefully, smirking and pulling up a chair from the other table, seeing as Caitlin’s backpack was still occupying the space beside her. “Do tell. Does the worst of it have something to do with this box?”

Caitlin finally snapped out of the daze she was in. She was having difficulty processing all… this. She needed another coffee. Maybe three. “I’m having difficulty imagining how he moved from the staircase to the window holding all this…”

“He had the bouquet in his mouth,” Eliza said.

Hartley’s brows shot up. “What,” he said, “the fuck?”

“What he said,” Caitlin muttered.

“She was kidding,” Bette said, giving Eliza a stern look. “He had a canvas bag.”

Eliza laughed. “Fine, but you have to admit you can totally imagine it.”

Hartley rolled his eyes. “I actually find it more unlikely that he had the foresight to bring a bag.”

“Well, are you going to open it?” Eliza said, gesturing to the box. “Bette and I have been dying to see what’s inside.”

Caitlin gave them a look, and Eliza said, “Hey, you can’t blame us. We’ve been safekeeping it for the last seven hours.”

“This really is beneath me,” Hartley said casually, “but I am curious to see what sort of disgustingly sentimental gift he got you. Gifts are a reflection of the giver, as someone once said. Can’t remember who it was, though…”

“You know, you can admit you’re curious without having to insult anyone,” Caitlin said.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he smirked. “Well? Are you opening it or not? We don’t have all day, Frosty.”

Caitlin sighed and relented, if only out of weariness. She opened the box without ceremony—there was no wrapper so she simply had to lift the flap—and peered inside. Three other heads neared to peer in, too.

It was a cactus.

On the flap, it said, I already got the roses when I saw this, but this is way better. You’re more of a cactus person, I think. ;) – Barry

Hartley barked a laugh. “I take it back. Allen is a fucking genius.”

“I don’t know,” Bette said dubiously. “It sounds like an insult.”

“It’s definitely an insult,” Eliza said. “You’re more of a cactus person—does that mean you have the qualities of a cactus?”

“He’s not wrong,” Hartley said. “Caitlin’s botanical identity aside, though,” he added, “everyone still owes me money, because she obviously accepted his advances…”

Caitlin, on her part, had already tuned them out. Barry Allen was a hopeless romantic and a complete idiot, and he also possibly had a screw or two loose, but he meant well, and he really and truly seemed to like her, and he was…

He was hers to like back.

Still, he had to stop climbing walls in the middle of the night to give her… whatever else he was planning on giving her. She had no clue about what courtship entailed, but she was sure that it didn’t have to be as life-threatening as he made it seem.

Caitlin didn’t think to approach him right away about this, though, because she didn’t think he’d be sending any more gifts her way. She thought he would have desisted with the flowers and the cacti, opting to leave only sticky notes instead.

She was wrong.

Well, not exactly. The next day, she did receive another note on her window, but she also received a heart-shaped box of chocolates and another cactus (both delivered by Cisco). This was puzzling, because she had no use whatsoever for a heart-shaped box, and she had no strong feelings about chocolates. Not that she didn’t like chocolates, per se; she’d just never particularly craved for them or sought them out. She didn’t want them to go to waste, though, so she ate two or three pieces before welcoming Cisco and Jax to finish up the rest.

This, surely, she thought, would be the end of it. Surely he knew that giving her gifts every single day until Saturday, for no particular reason and with no particular occasion, was an absurd and costly enterprise.

But she was wrong again. On Wednesday, she received the requisite note on her window and a teddy bear named Beary—See what I did there? ;) he’d said in his note—sporting a cactus pin. (She must’ve forgotten to lock her window last night after Cisco and Jax had left, so he was able to slip them onto her bedside table.) Now, if the chocolates were mildly puzzling, the teddy bear was downright bewildering, because she had given up stuffed animals altogether at the age of five, when her father had introduced her to illustrated encyclopedias. If she had no use for a teddy bear back at five years old, she had even less use of it now at twenty-one. She was aware that it was common for other couples to give each other stuffed animals, but that was other couples. For some reason, other couples found it cute to give their significant others a reminder of a more infantile period in their lives. Or perhaps the intention was for the recipient to endow the inanimate object with some of the partner’s qualities, so that it could serve as a reminder of the partner when he or she was away…

This was all just conjecture, of course. She’d never quite understood it. Even now that she herself was the recipient of a stuffed animal, she still didn’t understand what she was supposed to do with it.

To be fair, Barry didn’t know that she didn’t particularly care for chocolates or for stuffed animals. But perhaps that was the point—he didn’t know what she liked, and had simply assumed she would enjoy this standard romantic fanfare.

This brought to mind something Hartley had said the other day, about gifts being a reflection of the giver. Irritating as he was, she had to agree with his assessment: These gifts were less a reflection of her than they were a reflection of Barry. They conveyed the sincerity of his intentions well enough, but they also conveyed a startling lack of knowledge of who she was.

Well, not exactly. She did enjoy the sticky notes, and the cactus symbolized an inside joke that only the two of them shared and understood. Everything else, though, puzzled her.

She didn’t want to discard them, because that would mean discarding Barry’s feelings, too. (And, on an aside, Beary seemed to grow cuter the longer she looked at it [him?], which made her more reluctant to discard it [him?]. She made a mental note to Google the evolutionary value of cuteness even in lifeless objects.) But at the same time, the sole function of the rose, the chocolates, and the bear was to convey Barry’s intentions, which had been fulfilled the moment she’d received the gifts. Ergo, she no longer had any use for them. Was she obliged to keep these things around as relics of his affection for her? Then again, she knew that he liked her anyway, so why did she need all these things to remind her of it?

She frowned. She was trapped in a symbolic deadlock. Clearly when she confessed to him she didn’t foresee that things would become this complicated—and this when they weren’t even ‘a thing’ yet…

She sat back to view the gifts on her now-crowded bedside table and considered her situation. The most obvious course of action was to tell him to stop giving her gifts, but she could already tell that it would hurt him. But she also couldn’t think of a nice way to say it. The truth—“Please stop giving me gifts, I appreciate the sentiment but I find them useless” was too harsh, while a white lie like “I don’t have space to put them anymore” was too unconvincing. She could give him a list of what she liked, but she didn’t want to make it seem like she was asking for more gifts. Then again, she could inform him that she simply didn’t make a fuss about gifts, but clearly he made a fuss about gifts, so…

Great, she was back to her earlier deadlock.

Maybe it was time to call a friend. Felicity might know what to do. And, even if she didn’t, she might know how to soften a sentence like “Please stop giving me gifts, I appreciate the sentiment but I find them useless.”

Right, talk to Felicity it was, then.

. . .

On her way out of her room, though, something unusual happened: She bumped into Iris West.

The fact that Iris was here on her floor was already unusual in itself. Iris lived two or three floors above her, and she didn’t seem to have close friends residing on the second floor, so Caitlin had never actually seen her in this hallway.

The second unusual thing was that Iris was alone. Caitlin may have only glimpsed her on campus a few times, but she had no recollection of Iris being alone—she was always either surrounded by her friends from the school paper, or she was with a tall, clean-looking guy—her boyfriend, presumably.

The third unusual thing was that Iris was walking towards her now. Caitlin resisted the urge to look behind her to see if Iris was walking towards someone else, and instead she pasted on a tentative smile, the sort she reserved for people with whom she knew only vaguely, and so wasn’t sure if she should greet or not. If the person noticed the smile and greeted her, she’d return the greeting with relief. But if the person didn’t notice the smile, then she’d look like an idiot, but not as big an idiot as she would have had she uttered an ignored ‘Hi’.

Iris, as it turned out, returned her smile. “Hi, Caitlin,” she said, slowing when she reached her.

A greeting and a slowing down. Clearly she was about to engage her in conversation, but what did Iris have to talk with her about? Did Barry send her to deliver a package, or to do some reconnaissance? But if she was going to do reconnaissance, wouldn’t it be wiser to approach someone closer to her, like Felicity?

“Hi?” Caitlin said.

“I’m glad I caught you on your way out,” she said. “I would’ve messaged you first, but Facebook says you haven’t been online in three days, so…”

“Sorry,” Caitlin said. “I don’t go online often.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” she said. “I mean, I’m the one asking for your time. Not because I’m spying on you for Barry or anything,” she added hastily. “I just wanted to talk, that’s all. If you’re busy, though, I could—”

“I’m not,” Caitlin said. Her curiosity was sufficiently peaked. “My next class is in two hours. What did you want to talk about?”

“Great,” Iris said. “Could we… talk somewhere more private, like your room? Or my room’s fine, too. Gossip spreads pretty fast around here.”

“My room’s nearer,” Caitlin said. “It’s a bit of a mess, though. Well, Felicity’s side is a bit of a mess, so we could stay on my side…”

They both headed back to her room, and while Caitlin felt like the silence was awkward, Iris seemed completely at ease. She did look out of place in the shabby dorm room—with her red chiffon top, black leather skirt, and knee-high black boots, she looked like she’d stepped out of the pages of Vogue rather than a classroom—but she carried herself with the relaxed confidence of a person who made and followed her own rules.

“I know this is weird,” Iris said, “but Barry has also been acting weird lately, so I felt like I had to do something.”

“Weird, how?” Caitlin said, silently asking Felicity’s permission to borrow her chair. She pulled it up beside hers in front of her desk. She gestured for Iris to sit. “I haven’t known him long, but this”—she pointed to the items on her bedside table—“doesn’t seem too uncharacteristic of him.”

“Yeah, well, that’s true,” Iris said, sitting. From the direction of her gaze, Caitlin noticed the way Iris catalogued details carefully with her gaze: She scanned the usual school supplies on Caitlin’s desk (a plain white mug for writing materials, another one for highlighters, and a tray for bond paper), glanced at the stack of printed journal articles with notes and post-its, and lingered on the books on her shelf—The Double Helix by James Watson, Rosalind Franklin: The Dark Lady of DNA by Brenda Maddox, What Is Life? by Erwin Schrödinger, Einstein’s Dreams by Alan Lightman, and The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales by Oliver Sacks—all with yellowed pages. Those books were the only memorabilia she kept on her desk.

“Why do I feel,” Caitlin ventured when Iris reached the end of her quick survey, “that you’re already mentally writing profile of me?”

She was aiming to sound amused, and she supposed it succeeded, because Iris gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she said. “Guilty as charged. Had to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing, and after seeing this”—she gestured to her Spartan desk and the books on display—“and that”—she gestured to her cluttered bedside table—“I’m pretty convinced. I’m guessing—no, I’m one hundred percent sure that you’re not the romantic type.”

“Not at all,” Caitlin said. And then, upon realizing that Iris might report all this to Barry, she added, “I do appreciate the sentiment, though.”

“Right,” Iris said, “but not the gifts.”

“Well…”

“Here’s the thing,” Iris said, sensing her hesitation. “I thought about talking to you back when he pulled that crazy stunt in the middle of the night, but for once, I stopped myself from meddling. Which is difficult for me, since I meddle in other people’s business for a living,” she added with a self-deprecating smile. “But I managed. ‘How bad can it be?’ I thought. ‘Who knows, maybe she likes flowers.’ When he gave you the chocolates, I thought, ‘Okay, fine, maybe she likes chocolates, too. Flowers are tricky, but chocolates are pretty safe. A lot of people are nuts for chocolates.’”

Caitlin was about to say that was nuts for neither flowers nor chocolates, but Iris seemed to be on a roll, so she let her continue.

“But when he gave you that teddy bear”—she gave the poor innocent Beary a dirty look—“and named it after him, that was the last straw. I said to him”—she made the phone gesture with her hand and brought it to her ear—“‘You gave her a teddy bear? Are you crazy? Do you even know if she likes teddy bears?’ and he was like, ‘But teddy bears are cute! Who doesn’t like teddy bears?’ and I was like, ‘Barry, if Eddie’—Eddie’s my boyfriend—‘gave me a teddy bear, I’d either donate it to charity or tell him to return it to the fricking store. Honestly, how old do you think she is? Five?’”

At this, Caitlin couldn’t help smiling. She was starting to like Iris. Iris made sense. “My sentiments, exactly.”

“Shit, I knew it,” Iris sighed. “I should’ve stopped him earlier, but it’s too late now. There’s no stopping him once he gets into planning. Although if it’s any consolation, he hasn’t gone this all-out since… Well, since. And there isn’t even any occasion. Can you imagine what sort of production number he’ll come up with if there is an occasion?”

“I’d really rather not,” Caitlin said, wincing. “If it’s going to involve a grand public display of affection, it’s going to be a nightmare.”

“Not a fan of PDA, huh?” Iris said. “This must be really uncomfortable for you. I mean, people have been talking nonstop about what he’s doing. I’ve lost count of how many times someone came up to me to ask about”—here she made quotation marks in the air—“‘Barry’s new girl.’”

Caitlin must have made a face, because Iris nodded sympathetically and said, “Yeah, I know.  I was ‘Eddie’s new girl’ for some time, too, although for some reason he was never ‘Iris’s new guy.’ Ingrained sexism, that’s what it is. Really subtle, too, and harder to root out, but since women empowerment is having a moment—right, I’m ranting. Sorry. Bad habit.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m used to ramblers.”

“Ranters,” Iris corrected with a smile. “Wouldn’t want to be lumped in the same category as Barry. At least I don’t lose my main point while talking.”

Caitlin smiled. “He is prone to that.”

“Don’t I know it. Sometimes I just tune out until like, three hundred words later, when he finds it again. Come to think of it, I shouldn’t have tuned him out when he was spouting all those nonsense ideas… I might’ve been able to stop him from doing all this…”

“Is there really no way to ask him to stop with the gifts?” Caitlin said tentatively. “The sticky notes are okay, just not… this production number, as you called it.”

Iris paused. “I could try to talk to him again,” she said. “And anyway, isn’t he supposed to be giving you space?”

“Yes, well. Obviously he failed. I even have less literal space in my room now.”

Iris laughed. “That’s true.”

They fell into a brief, comfortable silence.

“Hey, Caitlin,” Iris eventually said, “thanks for being honest. I know it sounds like I’m selling my best friend out, but it’s just, he really likes you, and I don’t want him to screw himself over. He can be really eager, you know? When he’s excited he just jumps into things without thinking. Loses all sense of timing and subtlety, too.”

Iris paused as if debating whether or not to continue, but before Caitlin could come up with a response to fill in the silence, she went on. “His mom and dad were also really big on romance,” she said. “We grew up watching them trying to out-surprise each other on their anniversary and on Valentine’s Day. It was crazy, the things his dad did. Once, he decorated their whole house with flowers, because his mom absolutely adored flowers. This other time, he ordered chocolates from France, Sweden, Belgium—you know, places where those fancy chocolates come from—and made it look like a chocolate buffet from around the world. His mom was like that, too. She used to throw him these themed surprise parties. There was one party where she invited everyone—his former patients, his students, his colleagues from the hospital, his colleagues from whatever medical association he was part of—and she had someone from each group give him a toast. He was so teary-eyed at the end that he couldn’t give a proper thank-you speech.” Iris sighed. “His parents had something really special, you know? Even my dad thought so. Everyone who knew them thought so. The happiest couple in the world, people would call them.”

Caitlin absorbed all this in silence. “He does look like someone who grew up surrounded by that kind of love,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Iris said, smiling. “He was such a happy kid. Still is, actually. And I think—and this is pure speculation,” she added, “but I think that more than having a great career, more than being rich or famous or successful, more than anything, really, Barry wants what his parents had. I’m not telling you should fulfil that,” she added quickly. “I just want you to understand where he’s coming from.”

“I understand,” she said slowly. “This is a lot to take in, though. I’m the antithesis of that picture of his parents you just described, as you can see.”

Iris laughed. “Yeah, that’s pretty clear to me. And honestly, I don’t think he’ll want you any other way. Just give him time to adjust.”

“Alright,” she said. “Thank you for… talking to me. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to proceed with all this.”

“Oh, no problem,” Iris said, waving a hand. “If you need help with Barry—or anything, really—you can message me any time.” She stood up. “Anyway, I should go. You have class, right?”

“In an hour, yes,” Caitlin said, accompanying her to the door.

“Hey, maybe in the future, we could do a double date or something,” Iris said. “You and Barry and me and Eddie. I’ll take you to all the best hole-in-the-wall places. A lot of the owners know me already, so I get discounts, too. It’ll be fun. What do you think?”

Caitlin blinked. “Okay,” she said.

“Great,” Iris smiled and squeezed her arm. Caitlin tried not to shy away from it. “I’ll go talk to Barry before he brews tomorrow’s disaster. See you around, Caitlin.”

When she left, Caitlin returned to her desk. Well. That was strange, but not entirely unwelcome, especially since Iris herself had offered to talk to Barry. She also found herself relieved that she could get along with Iris. She wasn’t exactly the friendliest of people, but Iris had enough friendly in her for the two of them.

“Now,” Caitlin muttered, staring at Beary’s placid smiling face, “what to do with you? You’re going to want to stick around, huh? A real nuisance you are, just like your namesake…”

She stopped abruptly when she realized that she was talking to an inanimate object, and then squinted warily at Beary. She was beginning to be gripped by this whole stuffed-animal craze, and she wasn’t sure what she felt about that…

. . .

“Cait? Hey Cait, bananas!”

Caitlin looked up from her laptop. “What? What’s happening?”

“Ha, got you to look!” Felicity grinned triumphantly. “You ready to sleep? I’m going to kill the lights now.”

Caitlin gave her friend an odd look, but, being used to such antics (or Felicitisms), she merely saved her file and slipped her laptop onto her table. “Yeah, sure.”

The lights went out. Felicity shuffled to her bed, and Caitlin heard her fold her glasses and place them on her bedside table with a soft thunk.

A few moments later, Caitlin ventured, “Hey. Are you sleepy?”

“No, not really.” Felicity turned to face her. Her face was blurry in the moonlight. “Are you?”

“No.” She paused. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, okay. Shoot.”

“Remember that story I told you, the one Iris told about Barry’s parents?”

“Mmm. What about it?”

“It bothers me.”

“Why?”

Caitlin curled further into her side. Had she been talking to Felicity during the day, with Cisco and Jax with them, she might not have said this out loud. But now, wrapped up in her blanket and enveloped by the warm, inviting darkness of their room, filled with the well-worn and well-loved things they had shared for over two years, Caitlin felt brave enough to be vulnerable.

“He wants a happy ending,” she said. “I’m clearly not his happy ending. He needs someone who can match his… exuberance, I guess. His generosity. Someone who’ll give him what his parents had. I don’t think I can. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“You don’t know that,” Felicity said. “You haven’t even started dating yet.”

“I think that’s the point. We haven’t started dating yet and we’re already incompatible,” she said. “At first, I thought admitting my feelings was a bad idea because I didn’t want to get hurt, but now I think it’s a bad idea because I don’t want him to get hurt. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Ah,” Felicity said. “So you don’t think you’re good enough for him?”

“Well,” Caitlin exhaled, “more like I’m not right enough for him.”

“Yeah, I get that. I still feel that way with Oliver sometimes, you know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Well, we haven’t been together for long, but still. I was terrified, remember? And you were terrified for me, too. Told me that if I had any common sense, I’d walk away from him right this instant, before things got too serious.”

Caitlin smiled. “Fortunately for Oliver, you had zero common sense.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes, when I’m with him and I’m feeling really happy, I get hit by sheer panic. Like, I start thinking, It’s impossible for anyone to be this happy. He’s going to cheat on me one day, or else he’ll get bored with me and break up with me… Oh my God, if he does, I’ll never find someone like him again, I’ll never be this happy again… and so on.”

“You still think about that?” Caitlin said, incredulous. “Have you seen the way Oliver looks at you? When you’re in the room he literally cannot focus on anything else.”

“Yeah,” Felicity said, with a modest shrug, “but I guess sometimes we sabotage our own happiness.”

Caitlin moved to lie on her back. “I think I’ve felt what you’ve felt with Oliver,” she said quietly. “I just feel… so light with Barry. Or happy, I suppose. I’m not sure. But I know that when I’m with him, I don’t want the moment to end. And when I saw him with Patty—I told you about that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When I saw him with Patty, I was devastated. But there was this small part of me that was almost… gleeful about it. It’s hard to explain, but that part of me seemed to be saying, You knew this would happen. You were right, he’ll never like you. Good thing you didn’t get too attached.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Felicity said. “Sometimes I hear that voice in my head, too.”

“Why does it do that?” Caitlin said, confusion and frustration seeping into her tone. “Why does our mind do that? Why is it that when we’re happy, our first instinct is to be skeptical of happiness?”

Felicity was quiet for a moment. “Maybe our mind is trying to protect us from getting hurt,” she said. “Maybe we only open a little part of ourselves up to happiness so that when it leaves, it doesn’t take all of us with it.”

Her words sank into the darkness of the room.

“Or, wait, no,” Felicity said. “If Oliver… breaks up with me, yeah, I’ll be devastated, and I’ll probably cry for days, and the part of me that was only me around him will be gone. But I don’t think that means I’m less of a person if he leaves. I won’t be left with like, only a few pieces of my heart or something. Pretty sure I’m stronger than that.”

“You definitely are.”

“Thanks,” her friend said, smiling. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is... we try to protect ourselves from that one painful moment we think we won’t be strong enough to withstand. For me it’s Oliver breaking up with me for whatever reason. For you it’s disappointing Barry. And we sort of obsess over it, that painful moment, because we want to do anything to prevent it. And when we do that we forget to enjoy whatever’s happening now. Or that even if that moment does happen, we can and will survive it.”

“Like having tunnel vision,” Caitlin murmured. “Being scared of the pain is like having tunnel vision. You stop seeing possibilities around you.”

“Yeah,” Felicity said. “Yeah, something like that.”

“You’re saying that I should give this thing with Barry a real chance, aren’t you?”

Felicity grinned. “I’m saying that, or you are?”

“Touché.”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy,” she said. “You guys have a lot to talk about. I mean, flowers and chocolates and teddy bears are sweet, but they’re just not your thing.”

“So I heard. Apparently it’s common knowledge for everyone besides him.”

“You’ll think of something,” Felicity said. “I think he’s just excited now so he can’t think straight, but he means well. He really wants to make you happy.”

“I suppose so.”

“And if he can’t see you behind all those romantic notions of his, believe me, I’ll be the first one to tell you to stop trying.”

Caitlin gave her friend a smile. “Thanks.”

There was a lull in the conversation.

“Think we should go to sleep now?”

“Yeah, we probably should,” Felicity said, pulling her blankets to her chin. “Oh, before I forget, Oliver says thanks for the Smirnoff.”

“Tell him he’s welcome.”

“You traitors,” Felicity yawned. “Scheming behind my back.”

“Good night to you too, Felicity.”

Her friend smiled and buried her face in her pillow. “Good night, Cait.”

[heavenlyhollands]

Complicated (Sam Holland Imagine)

Summary: Your friends with benefits situation with Sam gets a little messy when you go to Montreal with him

Word count: 4.2k+ (wow)

A/N: Just in time for the actual wrap of chaos walking lol!! Also I’m so sorry this took so long to get up I rewrote the ending like 7 different times. I hope you guys enjoy and pls send in anymore requests you have!!

Things between you and Sam were….complicated, to say the least.

You were stuck in this strange place, somewhere between friends and lovers. The status of your relationship was never spoken about, and you certainly weren’t going to be the one to break the silence.

Though complicated, you loved what you had with Sam. You had started out as friends, then growing into best friends, and then eventually becoming best friends who occasionally (okay...way more than occasionally) hooked up. It was like the fun part of the relationship without the responsibility and work….at least, that’s how you wanted to see it.

Every pillow talk conversation you had with Sam after sex made you fall a bit harder for him. In times like those, it almost seemed like he really cared about you as more than a friend. But of course, that illusion was shattered every time he left before dawn, or called you an uber home. Of course, he knew nothing of your growing feelings for him, so it wasn’t like he was intentionally hurting you.

One night, after a particularly steamy hook up, he seemed to linger in your bed a little longer than usual. Not that you were complaining.

“Come to Montreal with me.” he proposed suddenly, reaching up and brushing a stray hair out of your face.

“What?” you questioned, clearly confused.

“Come on! Tom’s wrapping Chaos Walking in a week and he’s flying me out for the wrap party. He said I could bring a friend with me if I wanted.” he smiled softly, and you realized that you wouldn’t be able to say no even if you wanted to.

“And, out of all your friends, you want me to come?” you quizzed.

“I mean, yeah. We’re like….special friends.” he smirked, running his fingers lightly down your arm. A trail of goosebumps appeared following his touch.

You somehow felt butterflies at his comment while also feeling your stomach drop, wishing for something more. You quickly sat up, crawling over him and sauntering towards the bathroom.

“So, is that a yes?” he called after you.

You popped your head back in the doorway, “You and I both know that it isn’t an option for me to say no.”

He laughed quietly, “Good. The flight is six days from tomorrow. Or actually, today, since it’s two in the morning.”

“Can’t wait.” you shouted from the bathroom, rubbing face wash into skin vigorously.

As you were patting your face dry, Sam called out to you from your room.

“Come baaaaack, the bed’s already gotten cold.” he whined.

You sighed, taking the few steps back to your room with less enthusiasm than you usually would have if Sam was begging for your presence.

You slipped under the covers easily, pressing your feet against Sam’s shins.

“Jesus Christ, your feet are cold!” he whimpered, followed by a giggle that made it hard to keep a smile off of your face.

You woke up the next morning with Sam still sleeping by your side. You flashed back to the last time he actually spent a full night with you, which was probably around 6 months ago, the first time you slept together. Every time after that it was “Sorry darling, I’ve got an early class tomorrow!” or “Sorry love, don’t wanna risk Harry coming in and seeing you.”.

You tried to exit the bed as gently as possible, so as not to wake Sam, but as soon as you laid your leg on the opposite side of him in an attempt to crawl over him, his eyes slowly blinked open.

“Shit...guess I fell asleep last night.” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers.

“Not like it’s a crime.” you mumbled to yourself as you surveyed your closet.

“What was that?” he questioned.

“Nothing! Just trying to pick out an outfit for today.” you lied, your back still to him.

He hummed in response, and you can hear him shuffle out of bed and back into his clothes.

“I’ve gotta run. I’ll text you, okay?” he informed you.

You shot a thumbs up at him, “Sounds good.”

He hesitated awkwardly for a moment, before swiftly exiting.

The next few days pass by with limited contact to Sam. A few texts here and there, and one facetime so you could quiz him on a biology concept he was having trouble understanding. But with the imminent problem of your growing feelings for him and the upcoming trip, you thought distance would be the best cure. That maybe if you go a few days without feeling his lips on your neck, or his hands on your hips, you would be cured. You hated feeling so estranged from him, and it hurt every time you made up an excuse to avoid hanging out with him, but it seemed that being with him hurt more.

Sam wanted to spend the night before the flight, but you insisted on him meeting you at your flat a few hours before leaving for the airport.

He arrived earlier than you had planned for, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lacy underwear and a shirt that he had given to you months ago.

“Sorry, I’ll just throw on some pants. Make yourself comfortable!” you called over your shoulder after letting him in.

“You don’t have to put on pants...I’m kinda enjoying this view.” Sam remarked, and you could practically hear his smirk.

“Well someone’s hot and bothered today.” you shot back, re-entering the room donning a pair of sweatpants that you subsequently realized also belonged to Sam at one point.

He shrugged, “It’s been a while. I miss you.”

“And one thing I don’t want to miss is our flight. We gotta go!” you quickly changed the subject, much to Sam’s dismay.

Traffic was way worse than either of you had anticipated, so you had to practically run through security to make it onto the plane, exactly a minute before the doors closed.

“You are so lucky we didn’t miss that.” you playfully glared at him as you made your way down the aisle towards the only open seats on the plane, situated in the last row.

Sam gently tugged the luggage out of your grasp, placing it in the overhead bin with ease. As his arms stretched up, his shirt lifted to reveal a tiny section of his stomach. You forced yourself to look away before he noticed you staring.

“You can’t fall asleep.” Sam bluntly informed you as he got situated in the seat next to you.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” you retorted, making a face at him.

“Love, it’s gonna be eleven pm when we arrive in Montreal. So, if you sleep during the flight, you’re gonna be up all night and then you won’t be able to wake up tomorrow morning.”

You sighed in defeat, unable to argue with his logic.

“So,” he started, reaching into the backpack he stowed underneath the seat in front of him, “I brought some cards to keep us busy.”

“Oh, you’re on, Holland. I happen to be the best go-fish player in the whole world.” you bragged.

“We’ll see about that.” he smirked, beginning to deal the cards.

As soon as the plane landed, Sam shot up and pulled both of your bags down at once, rushing towards the exit despite the many protests from the flight attendants. You knew he was excited to see his brothers, and you couldn’t help but feel warm inside knowing that he was about to be happier than he had been in a while.

You expected to take an uber to the hotel and meet the boys there, but as you were taking the escalator down towards the exit, you noticed three boys holding a giant handmade sign reading “SAMUEL ANTHONY HOLLAND (+ guest)”.

You heard Sam let out a small gasp when he saw them.

“Go.” you told him quietly, knowing how important this reunion was to both parties.

“What?” he asked, turning towards you.

“Go! They’re waiting for you!” you exclaimed, pushing his shoulder lightly.

And with that, he left his luggage with you, racing down the rest of the already moving steps and towards his brothers.

The boys threw the sign onto the ground as he approached, and they all leapt towards each other, engulfing themselves in a giant, bouncing group hug.

As you reached the bottom, you quickly pulled out your phone and took a few pictures, knowing that one of them would want to post it later.

“Oh wow! Y/N!” Harrison enthused, breaking away from the group to approach you.

“It’s so nice to see you, Haz!” you smiled, hugging him lightly.

“You ready for the wrap party tomorrow? It’s gonna be epic.” he remarked.

“That’s kinda the whole reason I’m here.” you replied jokingly.

You greeted the other boys just as cheerfully before finally heading back to the hotel. In the car, you sat in the back between Harry and Sam. As soon as the car pulled out of the parking garage, you felt a wave of exhaustion wash over your body. You laid your head on Sam’s shoulder, telling yourself that you were only gonna rest your eyes until you got to the hotel.

You were jolted out of your rest by Sam exiting the car, causing your body to fall towards the seat.

“Oops! Sorry, love.” Sam apologized, giggling when he saw you just barely catch yourself before your face hit the seat.

“Shut up.” you mumbled sleepily, more or less crawling out of the car.

The boys talked about plans for tomorrow in the elevator, but you were too focused on trying not to fall asleep while standing up to pay attention.

As the elevator doors opened (on the top floor), you saw Tom and Harrison retire into one room, and Harry into the one right next to it. As you checked the room number on your key, you found your room right next to Harry’s.

You slid your key in and shoved open the door, desperate to get into bed and sleep. As you turned to shut the door, you saw that Sam had followed you in, suitcase in tow.

“Wait, are you sleeping here?” you questioned.

He hesitated, “I mean, yeah. Why not?”

You shifted your feet, “It’s just, your brothers….and I don’t want them to assume anything….because we’re not like…...you know….” you trailed off uncomfortably.

“Oh,” realization washed over his face, “yeah. You’re totally right. I’ll just go to Harry’s room then.”

You nodded, wanting nothing more than to lay in bed with him, and to fall asleep to his fingers tracing patterns up and down your arm. But you knew that this was just the way things had to be.

You were awakened the next morning by a loud banging on your door. Expecting it to be Sam, you didn’t bother putting pants on.

As you opened the door, revealing Harry, you immediately slammed the door in his face, running and slipping into a pair of sweatpants before reopening the door.

Harry was still standing there, a slight shade of pink coloring his cheeks, not unlike your blushing face.

“What’s up?” you wondered, desperately trying to ignore the awkward situation at hand.

“We’re going sight-seeing today. Wanna come?” he offered.

“Uh, yeah! Let me just get dressed and I’ll come over to your room.” you agreed.

He nodded, turning and heading back to his room, only a few feet away.

After silently cursing yourself for being stupid enough to answer the door wearing no pants, you changed out of your pajamas and into a sweater and jeans. You met up with everyone at the room and quickly headed out.

“We wanna see as much as we can before we have to be back at the hotel at six to get ready for the party.” Tom explained on the way down to the lobby.

The whole time you were out, Sam seemed to avoid you. Any time you were even standing next to him, he would not-so-subtly move so that there was at least one person separating the two of you.

You were quiet for the majority of the time spent out, wishing that you hadn’t agreed to come in the first place if this is the way Sam was going to treat you.

Back at the hotel, while sliding your key card into the door of your room, Harrison approached you.

“You okay?” he asked casually, leaning against the wall.

You look up at him, mustering up your best fake smile, “Yeah, totally!”

He nodded, clearly not believing you. “He’s an idiot, just so you know.” he mumbled, not giving you a chance to reply before walking back to his own room.

You sighed, trying to get into the mood to party as you shut the door behind you and began rummaging through your suitcase for the dress you bought especially for this occasion. You smiled to yourself as you held the dress out in front of you. If Sam was going to ignore you, then you were sure as hell going to make it hard for him.

The boys finished getting ready in a fraction of the time that it took you, which led to them all piling into your bathroom as you applied makeup (Sam lingered in the doorway silently). They alternated between whining about how long you were taking and picking up random makeup products and asking you what they did.

As you finished, you turned around, showing them the final product. “So, what do you think? Wrap party ready?”

“More like ready for the Oscars.” Harry taunted, causing you to shove his shoulder.

“My makeup would be much nicer if we were going to the Oscars, you div.” you playfully remarked.

“You look great, Harry’s just stupid.” Harrison interjected, and out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Sam roll his eyes.

“Well I’d love to continue this little praise circle,” Tom said sarcastically, “but as of right now, I’m late to my own wrap party.”

And with that, everyone piled out of your room and down to the lobby, where a large black SUV was waiting for them outside.

As the car pulled up outside the party venue, a club that was rented out for the night, you began to feel nervous. Usually at events like this, where you didn’t know anyone, Sam was your ally. That didn’t seem to be the case tonight.

The music was blaring as you entered, Tom and Harrison immediately splitting off to greet the producers. Harry went straight for the dancefloor, disappearing into the crowd almost instantly.

You looked over at Sam, who seemed to be looking everywhere but you. You sighed, saying nothing as you headed towards the bar.

You tapped your fingernails against the hardwood bar top as you waited for the bartender to make his way over to you. A large silhouette appeared next to you, flagging down the bartender in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll take a round of bourbon shots.” the mystery man stated.

You kept your eyes trained on the bar, trying not to be pissed about the lack of service you were receiving.

As the shots were given to him, he slid one in front of you. “You seem like a bourbon kind of girl.” he pronounced.

You looked up, preparing yourself to reject him, and were met with the sight of your biggest childhood crush: Nick Jonas.

You had completely forgotten that he was in this movie, so of course you had no idea that he was going to be here. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for that and also the fact that an embarrassing amount of time has passed without your response.

“Thanks.” you replied stupidly, clinking your shot glass with his before downing the bourbon faster than you should have. Your throat burned, but you did your best to ignore it as you downed another one.

Two more shots went by before he introduced himself. “I’m Nick, by the way.”

“Y/N.” you returned, “Oh and thanks for the drinks!”

He laughed, “It was my pleasure. What’s a girl as pretty as you doing by yourself, anyways?”

You tried your best to keep your cool, but the bourbon allowed a schoolgirl giggle to fall past your lips. You took a second to think about how to best describe your reason for being here to Nick. Tom’s brother’s fuckbuddy? No, that was too...complicated.

“I’m a friend of Tom’s.” you settled for a much more simplified version of the truth.

He smiled, “Tom’s a great guy.”

You nodded in response, hoping that he was going to follow up with something so you didn’t have to scramble to keep the conversation going.

“I don’t want to come on too strong or anything, but, uh, do you wanna dance?” he asked, and your heart nearly stopped.

“Yeah, definitely!” you exclaimed, immediately hating yourself for sounding so eager.

You both downed the last two shots before heading out the the dance floor. The dancing was somewhat innocent at first, nothing too x-rated. But halfway through the second song, you spotted Sam from where you were on the dance floor. He was sitting at a high table with Daisy Ridley, talking animatedly. Your heart sunk into your stomach at the sight of them laughing, leaning in towards each other.

You knew it was wrong to feel jealous when you were literally dancing with another guy, but the bourbon running through your veins told you to get revenge. As a new song began, you closed the gap between you and Nick, grinding on him heavily to the beat.

His hands gripped onto your hips, maneuvering them against his. You reached up with one hand, placing it on the back of his neck. You placed your other hand on top of his.

Throughout the song, you knew you loved dancing with Nick. But you also knew that you were thinking about Sam the whole time. And you hated yourself for not being able to enjoy yourself in the way that Sam clearly was.

At the end, Nick asked if you wanted to drink more, and you agreed, hoping that more alcohol would help your forget about Sam.

Five shots later and you were having a hard time standing on your own.

“You know, I don’t think I hold my alcohol as well as you.” you bluntly stated, causing Nick to laugh.

“Yeah, maybe the second round wasn’t a good idea.” he shook his head.

“I’m gonna….” you trailed off, pointing towards the bathrooms, “It was nice meeting you, though! If you and Tom ever do a movie again I’ll be sure to visit the set.”

He smiled, watching to make sure you made it to the bathrooms without falling over.

As you entered the bathrooms, you used the sink to hold you steady. “I-I...can’t believe I just blew off...Nick fucking Jonas. Am I...stupid?!” you slurred to yourself, jutting your palm into your forehead.

Your conversation with yourself was interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing Harry sauntering in coolly. He stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing you.

“Harry!!!” you exclaimed, hobbling over and wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Oh, jesus. You are so wasted.” Harry observed, the aroma of bourbon almost suffocating him.

You nodded, still holding on to him, mostly for the sake of your balance.

“Did you know you’re in the men’s room?” he questioned, gently leading you towards the exit.

“Oh noooooo!” you cried, burying your face into Harry’s neck in embarrassment.

He did his best to stifle a laugh, obviously failing.

“Where are you taking me?” you questioned, noticing that you were no longer in the bathroom.

Harry ignored you as his eyes scanned the club, searching for the one person that he knew would be able to handle you in your current state. He finally found Sam, still at the table with Daisy. He practically dragged you over there.

“Hey, Sam,” Harry shouted over the music, tapping on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam turned, his smile falling as soon as he saw you latched onto Harry.

“We have a...situation.” Harry explained, tilting his head towards you. You smiled weakly at Sam, knowing this was upsetting him even in your drunken state.

Sam nodded, turning back towards Daisy, “I’m really sorry, but I have to go.”

And with that, he got up and grabbed your arms, taking them from Harry’s shoulders to his, beginning to lead you out of the club.

Before exiting, Sam turned to Harry, who was following close behind.

“I got this. You stay.” he insisted.

“Are you sure, mate? I don’t mind leaving if you need me.” Harry offered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I’m sure. Go have fun.” Sam affirmed, waving goodbye as Harry disappeared back into the doors of the club.

The car ride back to the hotel was completely silent. You stared at Sam, who stared at his hands, occasionally glancing out the window.

It wasn’t until you had made it into your hotel room that you broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Sam.” Your voice quivered, and you stared at the ceiling to keep from crying.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry, love?” he furrowed his brows, making actual eye contact with you for what felt like the first time this whole trip.

“I-I didn’t mean to make you leave. You were obviously having fun with Daisy.” you explained, twisting your hands together. That was a habit you had when you were drunk.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, “You’re seriously gonna give me shit about Daisy when you were practically fucking Nick Jonas right in front of my face?”

“Oh, please!” you spat, trying your hardest to keep your speech from slurring, “The only fucking reason I even met Nick was because you were being an asshole and ignoring me! Just like you have been this entire fucking weekend!”

“Right, go ahead and blame all of your mistakes on other people, just like you always fucking do!” he yelled back.

Your jaw dropped at this insult. Sam had never once spoken to you like this.

“Why are you calling it a mistake? I went out and had fun at a party, that’s not a fucking crime. It’s not like I cheated on you, right? Because we’re just special friends, right?” your volume increased with every word spoken, but you couldn’t help it. You were just so damn angry.

Sam was stunned into silence. He turned and took a few steps away from you, making you think that he was going to leave. But before he reached the door, he quickly made his way back towards you.

“Tell me why you’re mad.” he requested quietly, much calmer than he had been a few seconds ago.

“Because you’ve been ignoring me.” you replied simply.

He shook his head, “No, tell me why you’re really mad. Because you were mad before that.”

Before your conscience could stop you, you blurted out, “Because I’m in love with you.”. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, unable to believe what you just said.

“And I know you don’t feel the same way, so let’s just pretend that I didn’t mean that because I’m drunk.” you quickly added on, unable to deal with a prolonged silence.

Sam smiled, shaking his head as he took a step closer to you. “But that’s where you’re wrong, love.”

Your throat felt as if it closed up, so all you could do was furrow your brows in response.

“Why do you think I would bring you all the way to Montreal?” he laughed lightly, “I’ve been in love with you since I met you. I just thought you wanted to stay-”

“Special friends?” you finished for him, failing to fight back a smile.

He laughed, grabbing your hands, “I never said I was the smartest guy in the world.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours. You smiled widely, feeling like everything happening wasn’t real. You had thought about this moment for so long, imagining hundreds of different scenarios. A drunk argument after clubbing was not what you pictured. But now none of that mattered. All that mattered was him.

“I need to sleep.” you mumbled, regretfully pulling away and making your way towards the bed. Sam lingered at the foot of the bed, watching you get situated.

“I’ll see you in the morning, love.” he softly spoke before stepping towards the door.

You heard the door click open, and you knew you couldn’t let him leave.

“Sam,” you called out. His head popped back around the corner eagerly.

“Stay with me.” you requested, patting the empty spot next to you.

He quickly flipped off the lights and crawled under the covers, engulfing you in his warm embrace.

You weren’t sure how much time passed in content silence, but you could’ve stayed like that forever and been happy.

Right as you were dozing off, Sam whispered softly, “Will you still feel the same in the morning?”

You smiled, “Tomorrow morning, and every morning after that.”

[sanjitea]

to unite;

[ao3]

three times they slipped out of each other, one where they finally twined, another where they are separated again, and the moment they finally unite.

They were always so contrast with each other. Similar to cat and dog, or the day and night. Yet, everyone knew- especially themselves, that they can’t live without each other; that they complete each other.

All in the same time, they’re corresponding to each other.

The idea to live without Zoro perplexed Sanji. The green-haired idiot almost killed himself during their last encounter with a Shichibunkai. Everyone was pretty much knocked out during the situation, and the bastard had the nerve to knock Sanji out during such crucial moment.

Sanji understood why Zoro chose to do what he did. To hear from others of what they witnessed, he understood completely. It’s a feeling, and not something that can be expressed in words. They were never here to play pirates; they were here to be pirates. Life, death, and sacrifices are common occurrence. Sanji understood Zoro so much that it hurts.

There’s this pang of pain in his chest that don’t cease to go away, and it hurts. They had partied all night for their victory and new companion, and he was more than aware to never to mention the incident to anyone else in the group. But, Zoro… Zoro… he needs to talk with him.

As he stepped into the infirmary, Sanji’s eyes naturally scanned at Zoro’s still body to find him deep in his sleep as ever. He sat down next to the bedside. The room was still and silent. An unlit cigarette was dangling still in between of Sanji’s lips as he waited, until the sleeping figure has finally stirred with a groan.

“Hey,” he called, once Zoro has sat up on his bed and holding his head. Almost naturally, he turned his gaze towards Sanji.

“What are you doing here?” It was a useless question; he already knew the answer to that.

“Just making sure you’re not dead.”

The blond handed him a glass of water, and the two returned into silence. There were these unspoken lines in their throats regarding the last events- none of them came out.

“Aargh,” Sanji ruffled his hairs, looking down to avoid Zoro’s gaze as he curled into himself. “Why is this so hard?” He said out loud, more to himself. Zoro didn’t answer, his gaze was still and silent.

“You,” Sanji began. “You- why did-” no, he didn’t mean to ask that- he knew. “…You knocked me out.” He rephrased that.

The other man took a sip from his drink before responding, “…You would do something stupid if I didn’t,”

“Yeah, I know. You didn’t have to do that,” Sanji replied, “…for me.”

Zoro didn’t reply.

“You could always have me fighting him- or with you, or… whatever-” Sanji uttered. “You didn’t have to knock me out to miss out the whole thing. You made it looked like you really cared.” He cared, he always does.

“Cook,” Zoro wanted to say, but Sanji continued.

“You never showed you care before,” And I never showed you this side before, either. “You were always so subtle, so silent, so quiet… And you are always been there. You always looked out for everyone, for me. You always spat things at me, fight me. We are drawn together but we never get along. You became a part of my life, I kept thinking about you. And after the whole fiasco, I can’t ever stop thinking about you,”

Sanji buried his face further to hid, “…It’s almost like I fell in love with you or something.”

Sanji’s face was certainly red, even if he didn’t show it. Zoro was struck by those statements. He had expected Sanji to come and talk with him, but never to expect any sort of love confession with it. Silences befall between the two once again.

Awaiting for Zoro’s reply seemed like forever, and Sanji believed he could’ve burst out of the embarrassment he spent while saying all of those.

“I’m sorry,” Zoro replied, without ever once looked at Sanji’s direction. “I needed some space,”

“I’m sorry for the interruptions,” Sanji stood up upon hearing Zoro’s response, promptly leaving the room.

But, what is this pain that won’t go away in his chest?

“Shit.”

Separation took place before any of them could do a thing to it. They were busy fighting for their lives.

2 years was a long wait, nonetheless. All of them tried to enhance in their skills, preparing for the bigger war.

Sanji tried to bury down all of those emotions in all those 2 years. There was no way for them to ever become a thing, he told himself. But why, out of all of those shitheads, fate had to be so cruel to make him the first person he encountered in this soapy reunion island?

Try to act as usual. “You’ll cause more trouble if you wander off! Stay still, damned Marimo!”

“Why should Number 7 order around Number 1, anyway?”

“Why are you ranking us in the order of our arrival? You just happen to be first by chance! Don’t get carried away!”

Maybe he forgot all about that, Sanji thought to himself.

“Sorry, Number 7.”

“I’ll fight you!”

And just like that, the bickering started again. Clashing between swords and the end of shoes sparked again after those long 2 years, it felt so natural. They were back again, they were bickering again. It almost felt like nothing had ever happened- as if they were never been separated in first place. Bodies moving and clashing, almost like belonged to be with each other.

They could care less about the world around them- making the world theirs. They continued clashing and fighting, forgetting everything- until their body signalled it was time for them to catch some breath and rest.

Zoro and Sanji stopped their sparring for a moment, catching breathes. Through their visible eyes, they looked at each other. The look of annoyance still visible in both of their faces.

“You have improved a bit, you third-class swordsman.”

“You have learned some idiotic kicking skills, yourself.”

“What did you say?”

They continued.

It took a while for Zoro and Sanji to fulfill their need to blow some stream- how they really missed this.

Just on cue, a ring from Den Den Mushi put a hold into their sparring. It was Franky, informing that there were marines on their way. The next thing Zoro and Sanji knew, they were already returned into sitting and chilling with each other. Their reunion fight was long forgotten.

If there were anyone who could turn from best friends into rivals and then back into best friends, Zoro and Sanji were one of those kinds.

It’s crazy how everything was back just like the old days in mere seconds.

“Hey, Cook.”

“Hm?” Sanji turned his attention to Zoro, now that the Den Den Mushi call was off.

Zoro’s face was straight and calm, “It’s been two years.”

“Yeah, it is.” Sanji replied shortly. It’s been quite a while; for them to meet again, for them to be at peace again. Sanji turned his gaze away from Zoro, taking a look at the place they were currently in: Sabaody Archipelago- it doesn’t look much different since the last time they were there.

Grooves and bubbles with a lot of people. Everything brought back the memories. It was quite a sight to be looked at.

“It’s been two years,” Zoro stated again.

“You don’t have to repeat that,” Sanji said, this time turning to look at Zoro’s face. He noticed Zoro’s face was unchanged from how it was. However, he began to sense the air and tense it was giving.

“Two years,” Once he was sure he got Sanji’s attention, Zoro spoke out. “About that-”

Before he could continue further, a huge explosion could be heard from the other side of the island. People were staring agape in surprise. Some of the marines began running to collect at the spot. Both Zoro and Sanji gritted their teeth, began to have guesses on what was happening.

“It’s Strawhat! Strawhat’s here! Collect immediately!”

“…Shit,” Bingo. “Luffy always have to create some big mess, doesn’t he?”

The two immediately run to the source of explosion, thus dropping their conversation off.

Zoro was bewildered.

The Cook was… not himself.

No, of course he always is- but not in that matter.

The Cook was… Nami. And Nami was Franky. Franky was Chopper, and Chopper was Sanji- not that Zoro is going to admit that he looked ridiculously cute when Chopper inhabited his body. How did it was happening again? Torao, that guy with his weird Devil Fruit power caused this. Also, who was this guy whose head was chopped off of his body, and apparently is the owner of this lower body they found?

Scratch that. All of those other details are unimportant- how long will the Cook stay in that body?

Zoro had wanted to go out to the island, but he was originally planning to talk with the Cook in the private to talk about some unfinished business. That, is something he couldn’t do when the Cook is awkwardly focusing on Nami’s body- or having a guest and a (possible) fight to face off soon. Knowing Luffy, the latter would come true whether he liked it or not. Not that Zoro was one to back off from any challenges.

Perhaps, he shouldn’t think about it for the time being and just let the Cook be. He could always approach him later, when the situation was better for both of them. Zoro decided to mind his own business.

“By the way, can I see your panties?”

“Of course! Let’s get a camera!”

“Wait!” Nami(in Franky) yelled at Sanji and Brook, who began to leave the group in search for Kinemon’s body part. She turned to Zoro with a glare, “Zoro! You’re going with them!”

“Huh?”

Being next to Sanji(while in Nami’s body) was the last thing Zoro wished for at that moment. The Perverted Eyebrows won’t ever leave his Love-Cook state at this point, much to Zoro’s dislike. Perhaps he could go and get it over with. After all, Nami’s wrath(and debt interest) was much scarier. Maybe he could wish for some peaceful time- without interruption in the next island.

Whenever Zoro ran off, Sanji was always there to make sure he comes back in one piece. This time was no different, the swordsman was chasing after his missing sword- and Sanji, ran after him to make sure he didn’t stray off as much.

Dressrosa was a big place. By running around, Zoro and Sanji easily got separated from Luffy and the others. Many people have heard that Dressrosa is a country of love, passion, and toys. The country does have that ambiance running through it. Chasing a fairy was not that easy, and the two men took a quick break to catch their breath.

“Marimo, wait up!”

Zoro has stopped running, but he was still looking around. “Don’t tell me what to do, Love Cook.” Catching some more breathes. “I’m not going to waste time here.”

“You could use a little patience, moron.” Sanji snapped. “You are never one to wait for anything you wanted.”

Waiting? Zoro was tired of waiting. How long had it been since he has been itching to talk with Sanji, to give him the answer he deserved. It felt like forever. How much he had been longing to tell him, to meet him, to see him again.

Two years. Two years and a little bit. He had been waiting. Waiting to see Sanji, to be with him again.

“You are not the one to talk about patience here.” Zoro snapped back. “I’ve been waiting enough, Cook.”

“Waiting for what?”

Zoro was tempted to answer the question. It could be the worst kind of timing ever existed to say all of these, but he didn’t care. Zoro didn’t care anymore. There was nothing romantic or special, and the Cook could complain all he wanted- but he was Roronoa Zoro; and it was between Zoro and Sanji. And maybe, they never needed any of those to begin with.

So, Zoro decided to give in into that feel- the temptation to tell the Cook how he truly felt.

“I also liked you.”

Just like how he fell into this feeling called ‘Love’.

Silence.

“…What?” Sanji blinked, confusion was written all over his face.

“Two years ago,” Zoro told him. “You confessed to me two years ago, and I told you I needed to think.”

Memories flashed before Sanji. He did confess to Zoro on that day, right before they leave Thriller Bark. He had buried those memories a long time ago, thinking Zoro didn’t want him the same way he wanted to be with him. He always had assumed Zoro has forgotten about the incident, and the confession. Sanji was convinced that he didn’t want anything to do with him.

Upon remembering all of those, and realizing Zoro’s answer, Sanji’s face reddened. He didn’t say anything, nor could he bring himself to utter a word or two. He didn’t expect any answer from Zoro- moreover, at such a moment.

Noticing Sanji’s response to his long-awaited answer, Zoro couldn’t help but to grow a little red. It was starting to get awkward. “…Did you change your mind in those two years?”

“…N-N-….No.” Sanji finally managed to say, “My feelings for you are still the same,… It’s just-” He blushed even deeper. “I didn’t… expect you to answer-”

Zoro wondered how red would he be in bed.

A kiss after 2 years.

To embrace the other felt like nothing they imagined.

It was weird to be with a man, especially in this twisted toys country. But neither of them cared. After two long years, those long-awaited feeling was finally returned. After those two long years, they could finally be together again, see each other again, spar with each other, to finally able to love and returned, hug, and be whole.

They were finally a thing. It was awkward and rushed. Their first kiss was rough, yet soft. Their embrace was strong and comforting. There was nothing sweet or special, but they never cared, because they finally were together, to tie their tie.

Their moment together was cut short when a glimpse of sword sighted in the corner of the roads, and then they were back on the run.

And it was not romantic at all.

But no one cared, because it was just how they are. And there was nobody else in the world who could ever be like them.

Just when they were finally together, they had to separate yet again. Zoro was more than excited to see the Cook again. The idiot had to go off for his own business with the others while himself and the rest were busy with Doflamingo.

He wanted to meet him again, embrace him. They never had a proper chance to go out as a couple ever since they got together.

“Any sign of Eyebrows?” Zoro asked.

“No, not from here at least.” Usopp replied from the top.

Zoro grumbled, hoping the situation is not as bad as he thought.

Sanji was distressed. The Vinsmokes taking him was the last thing he ever wanted from the whole universe. On top of that, a marriage. Shit. Everything was so ruined. He just finally got together with Zoro and suddenly he had to deal with the whole “family” situation. He was sure claimed himself as a Ladiesman, but he was not one to marry a girl she never knew beforehand. Moreover, Sanji is a loyal man.

He could breathe out a little sigh of relief that his so-called “family” never find out his relationship with Zoro. Considering it was recent, after all. However, he was still not pleased with the fact that they were holding Red Leg Zeff as a hostage.

Sanji was tired, Sanji was sick. He wanted nothing more but to return home and continue on his journey. The thought to succumb into his death had crossed his mind a few times, but he was never been the one to give up. Yet, he didn’t know- he didn’t know what to do anymore.

Sanji thought that;

By giving in into the marriage he could save everyone. Even if that meant he had to give up on his dreams.

Even if that meant he had to give up on himself.

Even if that meant he had to give up Zoro.

Shit.

He had been violating so many rules he put into himself. He insulted and beaten Luffy, he ignored Nami to receive her anger and sadness; he had dragged so many people down with him. Sanji thought he could never forgive himself, and he wanted to give up.

Why did he find himself out in the rain, carrying a basket for Luffy?

Maybe he hasn’t gave up hope after all.

“Tell me how you really feel!”

A smack from Luffy was all he needed- to remind him that he was worth; to remind him that he could make it; to remind him he was not alone.

“I want to go home to Sunny!”

As ever, Luffy’s so-optimistic smile was coming out. It began to calm down the storm inside him.

And suddenly he believed that maybe, he could go home again.

That he can go chase after his dreams again.

That he could see Zoro again.

It took two years, and a few months.

To see each other like chasing a far-off dream.

They finally could see each other again. To bicker, to touch, to embrace.

It was two years and a few months, but they finally could be together again; to be whole again. They were each other’s dream.

Three times they slipped out of each other, one where they finally twined, and another where they were separated again.

And then, the moment they finally unite.

Future Pirate King’s ship was sailing over the seas of New World. Raftel was their final destination.

Aboard the ship, Straw Hat Pirates were home, sailing to chase their dreams without a care.

On aboard, a green-haired swordsman and a blond cook were staring out to the sea. Their hands intertwined, living their dream without a care.

Usopp approached and decided to ask the couple, “You two… When did you get so close?”

Upon hearing the question, other pairs of eyes and ears busy themselves join the conversation.

Under any normal case, any of them would’ve shrugged off the question.

“We’re dating. It’s normal.”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH??????!!!!”

Surprise echoed from the entire ship.

“It’s been a while, to be honest.”

“But how? And when did you two start dating?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“We just got together and never got the chance to.”

“Yohohoho~ If you told me sooner, I would’ve sung a love song for you.”

“That’s soooo suuuuuuper!”

“Congratulations,”

“I never would’ve guessed it! Zoro, Sanji!”

Under any normal case, either of them would’ve tried to hide the relationship.

“Shishishishi! Let’s have a party!”

But they have had enough- enough of waiting and longing. And they were happy.

Because after the long wait, they were finally united.