#would they even read the letter others gave them when they are already whipped?

[purplecelestial-buddy]

Twitter keeps showing me official art and I don't even know where it came from

[ruershrimo]

i. toge x fem!reader | aftermath of a confession

for a while it’s just the deafening silence between the two of you and the clanging noises of chopsticks on glass bowls. of course, he knows that it isn’t going to last forever even if he wonders if it will, but your lack of words definitely fails to prove that wrong. 

see, the problem is this: toge’s sitting right in front of you— his dream girl, his crush of two years and all that. since the moment you first walked in the classroom and he’d caught sight of you, he’d been hopelessly and utterly smitten. perhaps it was the way you smiled at others, shy as you were; the way you laughed at his antics without fail and tried to lift people up no matter how much you struggled with doing so. it was that kindness; the type that didn’t need gestures and touches, the type that didn’t call for empathy or sympathy. just that plain kindness. 

and soon after it came his love for everything else: your hair, your eyes, your skin— the way they shined in the sunlight. he was sure he wasn’t that obvious. yet he supposes that besides maki, panda and yuuta who’d already known him enough to tell, it could have been relatively easy for all the other students of the school (basically, all the first years) to notice his infatuation with you— well, save for you yourself. 

he didn’t think it’d amount to anything, though. as much as it hurt to think that. not with the way his technique held him back; you needed someone who could speak to you, look after you that way. he needed you to not feel lonely. he had insistence from maki and panda that you were every bit down bad for him as he was for you, yet he still couldn’t believe them in full. despite all his jests and cheeky shenanigans, he would never consider himself bold enough to be able to confess it all to you. so why do it, when you wouldn’t be able to reciprocate in the first place? 

which is why he was shocked when you bowed over, scrunched your face up in embarrassment and handed him a letter in a sealed envelope before lunch on a random tuesday, stammering that you’ve liked him for more than a year, can you please consider going out with me?, and running away before coming back just for lunch. 

at least if maki and panda were here, things would be less awkward. but maki is still out training, and panda’s off to do whatever pandas do before lunch on random tuesdays. 

“takana…” he starts, eyes on your crestfallen face. the only thing your eyes are on is the food you’re eating. 

“…I’m sorry…” you mutter. he barely makes it out from you. 

“ikura!” he says. No! 

an idea strikes him then. 

you cock your head to the side in confusion as he whips out his phone and his thumbs fiddle away across its keyboard. 

toge’s confident now. if the two of you like each other, why not start something new? he’d love to take you out. he hands you the phone. 

“‘I… like… you… too?’” you read out, squinting at the tiny font.

toge sees your heart stop, breaths caught in your throat, your cheeks warm— scratch that, you’re crying. 

wait, why were you crying?!

“takana!” 

“I-I’m so glad,” you sniffle,” I always liked you. I didn’t know how to say it. it was painful seeing you every day knowing how I felt, and- and thinking there wouldn’t ever be a chance you’d like me back!” you sob, burying your face in your hands as if it could hide anything, “and then when I gave the letter to you, I was so nervous, I-I should’ve stayed there or given you something you liked, but I panicked!” 

nervously, he inches his hand closer to yours. your watery eyes widen. “shake sushi,” he reaffirms. the circles he rubs over the back of your hand make you feel like he’s smoothing over creased paper on your skin. yes, he likes you too, so don’t worry. don’t cry. you may be crying, but if he were a dog, his tail would be wagging so wildly regardless. 

both of your hands grab one of his with shaky movements and a slew of hiccups. “I’ll try my best.”

“mentaiko.”

thank goodness.

[aledethanlast]

Jeremy shows up to practice fifteen minutes early and finds Jean in the team lounge. "This is for you," he says.

Jean expects those words, like all the other times he's heard them, to be accompanied with a bright smile and flowers, or chocolate, or a plate of whipped cream to the face—don't worry, revenge was had—but instead finds himself staring at...a note.

White flash card, folded twice, one corner bent back down halfway for no good reason at all, and the memories hit Jean like a racquetto the head. How many of those noted had he been given? Shoved into hands without stopping to look and passed on just as quickly.

Jean is a man of instincts. Reflexes. Ingrained responses so deep the brain need not bother, for the body already knows.

And this note is a cue his body knows too well. One, take the note before anyone can think to come near it. Two, shove it into his pocket before anyone can see. Three, storm down the hall to tell Kevin that he is NOT waiting for 45 minutes again while he agonizes over a two fucking sentence response, and—

The door opens again, San Diego sunlight blinding him as two more teammates come in, and Jean remembers Kevin isn't here. Which means. Which means.

He unfolds the paper too quickly—it would've torn if it had been thinner, but the thick flash card just gets stuck. Typical. Holy shit, typical.

Thea's handwriting is the same precise script as ever (except the lowercase g's for some reason). The letters are smaller than the guidelines, like she didn't know how much space she needed to write everything she wanted to say.

Hi Jean. Kevin says you're doing well. Or rather, Kevin says that Jeremy says. Not that I think Jeremy would lie, but there's only one messenger I've every really trusted, and that's you. I'll be in SD sometime next week. Give me a call.

A phone number is scrawled beneath. No signature. Overall, it takes just over half the card; either she miscalculated or she had more to say but instead chose self censure. Both options are unlike her.

The myriad pieces of Jean's mind read the note, over and over, all slightly out of synch from one another so rather than comprehension he only gets nose.

"Jean?" Jeremy's had on his shoulder, concerned. Jeans hand jerks upwards, sharply, and then he brings it back down as he turns to face Jeremy, pretending he hadn't been this close to stuffing the note in his mouth. "You good, man?"

Good question. Great, even. Jean has a better one. "Who gave you the note?"

Jeremy frowns even harder. It doesn't suit him, brow furrowed like that when he isn't trying to run through a backliner like they're made of tissue paper. "Coach Rhemann came back from Texas this morning, told me Muldani gave it to him. With very specific instructions not to open it. I met Coach, he gave it to me."

Of course. Thea doesn't ask for things; it's the first piece of advice she ever gave him. If you want, and you can, then do it. Forget who might stand in your way; they can only try, same as you.

"Jean?" Jeremy asks again. "What did the note say?"

Thea wanted to pass a message to Jean without Jeremy in the way. Well, maybe fuck what Thea wants. Jean hands him the note. Jeremy skims it, raises a brow. "What does she mean, that she only trusts you?"

His concern, born of meeting Jean back at Abby Winfield's house and fed by the steady trickle of Jean's stories of the Nest, seems momentarily absurd. "The Ravens weren't allowed to date," Jean says simply, as he had many times before. When Jeremy seems to catch on, he nods at the note. "I was their favorite messenger. Well. I was the only one who wouldn't sell them out."

"Why didn't you?"

Because Kevin was his friend. Because Thea deserved better than anything the Nest could ope to give her, much less dare to deny. Because every breath Jean took in protest to that tar pit came filled his lungs just a little bit deeper.

"Because then I got to read Kevin's love letters."

Jeremy's eyes go wide. "Shakespeare?"

"Poe."

Some teammates turn at the sound of their captain's laughter. More turn when they hear him hit the floor. Jean gives them all a plain look.

He takes the note back from Jeremy's twitching fingers—it's best to let him wear himself out on such occasions—and stares at the phone number.

Thea does not ask, she acts. If Thea wants to come down here and see him, then nothing stands in her way.

Except Jean. If he doesn't call, if he doesn't show, he's sure she won't push. She will never call or text or write a note to him again and all he has to do is nothing.

The thought rumbles through the dark halls of his mind that still belong to the Nest, like a freight train pushing forward too much air, pushing, pushing until the wall ahead falls apart from the pressure and—

Sunlight. The lounge door is open again. More teammates, almost late, confused by their laughing captain.

Jean takes out his cell.

[akwolfgrl]

I'm a great fuck but better lover

Nami was sitting outside enjoying the good weather while she read the paper and sipped some iced tea. A new bird landed on the railing next to her. It had a package slid into the carrier on it back. Nami took the package out, and the bird made no motion to leave, most likely waiting for a reply. Nami shoke the box. There was definitely something heavy inside. Nami ripped the box open, her curiosity getting the best her as she ignored what was written atop the box. She recognized the name of where it came from. She didn't know why it was addressed to eggplant instead of Sanji.

Inside the box was a smaller box with the name The All Blue discovery box, a letter, a book, and a stack of food magazines. Nami flipped through the book, unable to recognize a single word. She shouldn't do this, but Sanji would forgive her, so Nami opened the letter.

She didn't want to get her hopes up, but the thought of exchanging letters with her loved ones back home filled her with such joy. She wanted to reconnect with them after distancing herself for so long. Nami had to admit she was amused by her new nickname, Miss Nectarine. She could guess who the rest were pretty easily. Meatball was Luffy, broccoli was Zoro, and parsnip was Usopp.

Nami turned as she herd familiar footsteps, Sanji was apoching, Mr. Noddles hot on his heels, with a pitcher of tea and a treat for her.

“Nami-swan! I have your snack all ready for you!” Sanji called out he loved himself into a bow presenting the sliver platter. “I made bublanina, it's a very airy cake, slightly sweet and filled with fresh fruit toped with iceing sugar and whipped cream. This time, I used blueberries and cherries,”

“Sanji, I opened your mail. Did Zeff mean it? Would he send our loved ones our letters if we mail it to him?” Nami asked as Sanji refilled her glass.

“Well I haven't read the letter yet, but I'm sure he did mean it, we can tell everyone at lunch so they can write their letters,”

“I'd like that, you can sit next to me and read the letter if you want to,” Nami took a bite of the cake while Mr. Noodles began to beg and reach for the cake. He was almost as bad as Luffy. It was airy like Sanji said it was. The cake itself wasn't sweet, but the fruit was sweet, as was the powdered sugar on top. It was as always delicious, Nami was glad they had recruited an actual chef.

“Thank you, Nami!” Sanji took a seat next to her, placing his tray down as he began to read his letter.

“Sanji, what made Luffy pick you over a different chef?” Nami asked.

“Well I'm not completely sure, but do you remember the pirate Patty tossed out for not having any money?” Nami nodded, Sanji had told this part already. “Luffy followed me out when I went to feed him. We argued a bit and got to talking about the all blue, I don't know if it was my dream or feeding someone that did it but one of the two. The reason I joined was Zoro,”

“Wow even then you wanted him,” Nami teased.

“Hmm well I won't deny he was good-looking, but not what I meant. Seeing him willing to die for his dream made me realize how badly I wanted to presuse mine. I still needed that last push from the other chefs. I felt that I owed it to Zeff to stay, since he gave up his leg for me, it didn't matter what I wanted. I owed him everything,”

Nami hadn't heard that detail yet. She had missed a lot since she had left after seeing Arlong's bounty poster. The next thing she knew, her three friends and the blond from the Baratie had shown up. They saved her and her village.

[fowlfics]

other than my Crocodad DofuWani bullshit (which is now at 22k and yes this is the first im mentioning it here whoops its still only half done. send help) my other brainrot which i have been thinking about today is AceLaw.

More specifically, an AceLaw where they met shortly after Ace entered the Grand Line, started dating, Marineford happened as normal... And then the plot starts. With Luffy and Law and the insurmountable mountain of grief they're both shouldering.

I have something relatively short (2k) to post about it soon, courtesy of exploring exactly how many characters will discord let me cram into a single message (got to -8808 lol) over in MDL

Here's an excerpt bc i ought to make some use of this blog:

Pulling out the leather-bound journal, he set it carefully on Luffy's lap.

"Please don't destroy it. There's only this one copy."

Luffy glanced up at him, baffled. It was better than anger or sadness, at least.

Law motioned towards the book wordlessly and leaned against the desk; No description he could give for the book would be better than Luffy just taking a look himself.

He pulled the cover open gingerly, recoiling slightly at the sight of the first page. It was inked almost fully black, with only three coloured letters right in the middle of it: red A, blue S and yellow L.

Their first Jolly Roger, Ace had told him. The one they flew over the treehouse right up until they abandoned it after their brother's death.

Law supposed it might still hang there, if no one had bothered to take it down.

Luffy whipped his head up, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Keep going," Law encouraged. "He wanted you to see it, eventually."

Looking back down, Luffy turned the page. And then again, and again, and again, moving through the pages fast enough to make it clear he wasn't actually reading any of the words, barely looking at the pictures.

If he was anything like Ace, he likely couldn't read all that well, not even the carefully calligraphed words Ace had bribed Law into writing for him.

That was fine, though. There would be time for reading, later. Luffy already knew most of those stories, anyway. He had been there for them.

The only novelty would be getting to learn Ace's perspective on them; Something that, judging by his words, Luffy could clearly use.

It didn't take him long to reach the end, flipping the pages faster and faster until he reached the end of the filled portion. The few dozen empty pages fell towards the rest easily, opening the journal on the last page, the one Ace had most often returned to.

Luffy's hand carefully traced the edges of the portrait carefully inserted into the back cover.

"This..." he trailed off.

Law gave him a moment. When it became clear he wasn't going to continue, he filled in himself.

"Is Sabo, yes."

Luffy looked up at him again. There was old pain filling them, old tears.

"Ace had been working on it for a long time," Law elaborated. "I have a whole binder of his previous attempts, too. He wasn't happy with how this one turned out, either, but he said it was the closest he could get." And then, because he had been curious for the longest time- "Did he get it right?"

Luffy hunched his shoulder. "...I don't know," he said. "I don't- I didn't remember what Sabo looked like, anymore."

It's been ten years, to be fair. If someone had asked Law to describe Cora-san, he would have had troubles, too. Feathery coat, heart-dingled hat, wide lipstick smile, spikes under his eye, that much he remembered.

But how many spikes? Under which eye? What colour were the eyes themselves?

Time had an unfortunate habit of sanding away the details, taking the sharp edges of memories and tumbling them into blunt, opaque things, like sea glass.

It did the same to grief; That was the price you paid for healing.

[minato-division03]

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Reiaki Suzubayashi's apartment in Roppongi, casting a warm glow across the room. Today was no ordinary day—it was her birthday, and she had planned to spend it indulging in the rare luxury of sleeping in. But as the universe would have it, her plans were promptly derailed by the energetic cries of her roommate's infant son.

With a resigned sigh, Reiaki abandoned any hope of returning to her dreams. She tossed aside her blankets and stretched, her tattoos shifting over her skin with each movement. The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional cooing and babbling that drifted from the nursery, reminding her that the day had indeed begun, whether she liked it or not.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, Reiaki made her way to the kitchen, her mind still foggy with sleep. But as she stepped out of her room, she nearly tripped over an unexpected obstacle. Catching herself against the doorframe, she looked down to see a collection of gifts, each one carefully wrapped and adorned with birthday stickers and cheerful ribbons.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Trust her roommate to go all out, even when she wasn't awake to see it. Reiaki gathered the presents, her silver jewelry clinking softly, and arranged them on her bed. The first gift beckoned to her, its wrapping paper glinting in the morning light.

She reached for it, her fingers deftly peeling back the tape to reveal the surprise that awaited her inside:

Inside a small, gift-wrapped box was a small, yet intricate music box with a cherry motif on it, as well as a cute Chinese-looking black cat on top. Looking at it, Reiaki pressed the button on the front of the music box, making the lid pop open, which released a beautiful melody filled with bells inside, making the SFX artist's mouth open in surprise. She smiled as the melody ended. Although the box itself was kinda tacky, the music it displayed was wonderous, proving that the inside is what mattered, not the outside.

Placing the music box off to the side, she looked as there was a note tape to the bottom, which read:

"Reiaki,

In the quiet of the morning, as Roppongi slowly awakens to the symphony of a new day, I'm reminded of the subtle yet profound influence you've cast upon our world. This music box, with its delicate bell melody, is a tribute to the enduring echo of your artistry and the shared rhythm of our existence. May its tune greet you like the dawn's first light—gentle, hopeful, and full of promise. Here's to the melodies yet to come and the stories they will tell. Happy Birthday, Reiaki, and may the music in your heart always play as beautifully as the sunrise that heralds a fresh start.

Warm regards,

Kai 'DJ Veenyle' Quinlan"

Giving a slight chuckle at the DJ's letter, Reiaki placed it off to the side and turned to her other gifts. Noticing the slight, sweet smell coming from one of them, the SFX artist felt her mouth water as she could picture what was inside of them. Opening them, her hopes weren't dashed as inside was what she expected:

Yup, true to her nature it was a birthday cake made by her favorite chef, Luis. The SFX artist could already fill her mouth watering looking at it, weird cat design on top, barring. Laying it off to the side, she looked at the other gift, which was slightly heavier. Like the cake, it also gave off a smell, making her pause. Opening it up, her eyes grew wide:

It was a basket full of spicy dishes and foods, most of which she had ordered and eaten at Luis's restaurant. On top of one of the foods was a note that said,

"Dear Reiaki,

Your teammates mentioned your birthday was on the horizon, so I whipped up these treats in advance. Knowing your penchant for the piquant, I've prepared this basket of spicy delights and a birthday cake to match. Enjoy the feast, and I'm eager to welcome you back at the restaurant soon.

Sincerely,

Luis Kōkyū

P.S. Appreciate you sparing me the anime requests this time. I've been binging so much lately, it's almost second nature now."

“Waaaaaaa wow, wow, wow, wow, wow!” Ayato babbled, his dazzling iridescent eyes lighting up when he heard the light and delicate music play from the ornate music box.

Just moments earlier, Reiaki dashed out of her room with her gifts in hand and into the nursery, just absolutely excited to share the wonderful goods with her favorite people.

They were all seated on the floor to Ayato’s bedroom, the gifts all spread out on the floor.

“Isn’t it cool, Ayato?” Reiaki cooed, watching the toddler pick up the music box with his tiny, chubby hands.

Juri chuckled. “The citizens within the different divisions of Minato are quite generous.”

Reiaki smiled cheekily. “Yup!”

Ayato set the music box down, his attention span already dwindling. He stood up on his two feet and waddled over to the basket of spicy delicacies and the cake.

Ayato threw himself down.

Before he could land on top of the cat cake, Reiaki quickly reached her arm out, catching the boy by his round belly and pulled him to sit on her lap. “Well that was close! Boy! That’s for us! How’re we supposed to eat the cake if it’s smushed to smithereens!”

Ayato laughed heartily and squirmed against her hold.

Juri followed her son’s gaze. “Oh dear, it seems he has his eyes set on the basket that Kōkyū-san had sent along with the cake…”

Reiaki picked up chuckling Ayato so that he was facing her. “You silly boy, that stuff is spicy. You’re not gonna like it~”

Juri reached over and picked up the tiny jar of salsa. “Actually, there is something I want to see…” she murmured as she removed the lid and scooped out some of the salsa with her nail.

“Hold on, you wouldn’t…”

Juri brought her finger closer to Ayato, who opened his mouth widely. She paused and retracted her coated fingernail. “This might be really spicy, my love, this is your chance to back down.”

Ayato squealed and grabbed onto his mother’s hand and brought it to his mouth, his tiny little baby teeth chomping down on her finger.

Reiaki gasped and pulled Juri’s finger from his mouth.

Without so much of a reaction, the roommate instead seemed to be waiting for a reaction from the toddler.

Thanks for the gifts!

[maikry]

Holli - The Decision

Having already chewed her nails to stubs, she had begun meticulous work on gnawing the skin from her nailbeds. It was unlike Cro to be late and the stone planter she sat upon was beginning to numb her bottom. This edge of the gardens was their meeting spot, a small corner hidden by a misplaced hedge that the guards of the palace rarely took the time to look behind. 

It was here that Cro had taken up training Holli in secret, a pact that was made covered in mud after having helped Holli defeat her young bullies. Young Holli had expected the strange and rigid child to betray her or get bored within a few days, but Cro never did. He met with her daily, until he turned seven and was sent to The School of the Ring to be trained into a true and proper Finisher–a soldier born to fight against magic and all of its evils.

Even still, he had left Holli a detailed notebook of things to practice in his absence, annotated with helpful tips and little jokes. And during the Reflection Days, a three day festival every year that students are permitted to come home, Cro had always found a day to meet Holli here, in person, and give her another manual to last through to their next meeting.

This was the third year of this tradition.

The previous notes sat next to Holli, heavily worn and stained from plenty of use. Bookmarking the pages were a few of their letter correspondances. Cro wasn’t allowed communication often, and the notes had to be written carefully so that nobody suspected Cro was teaching the young girl to fight, as each letter was read by administration before being sent to her.

Eventually, the letters were less about supplemental battle tactics than just trying to keep in contact with a friend.

Holli stared at them intently as she chewed another piece of skin off.

“Apologies, milady.” A voice came from the other side of the hedge. Holli whipped her head around and pulled her wet hand from her mouth. Cro appeared into the space, already taking his respectful bowing position.

Holli cocked her head. The boy looked different. Of course he would have the obvious aging of the year, being inches taller and having lost some of his childhood plumpness. These changes weren’t shocking. It was the fact that his jet black hair wasn’t slicked back neatly, but allowed to be a fluffy mess atop his head. 

Cro straightened up. “Is something the matter?”

“Your hair.”

Cro tried to slick it back with his hand, a rare blush coming over his cheeks.“Oh, like I said, I must apologize. I got caught up-”

“I like it.” Holli interrupted him with a smile. 

The boy’s expression softened, his hand falling from his head and back to his side. He took a step toward Holli, standing with his hands clasped behind his back next to her seated figure. She let out a huff before grabbing his arm and yanking him down to sit next to her. He gave a small yelp, but quickly found a seat.

For a brief moment, they sat in silence. Holli stared at the garden around them. These meetings were always done in secret, stowing away from their families at a time of celebration. And sometimes the couple used it as a reprieve from such excitement.

Cro spoke first, pulling out another notebook from inside his coat.

“This has the drills and teachings from the last year. I circled the exercises that I thought you’d especially benefit from.” Cro placed the notebook in Holli’s hand. She stared at it for a moment before looking into his emerald eyes. A familiar mischievous smile crossed his lips. “You will certainly be well prepared for your entrance into the Sisters of the Ring.”

She let out a half-hearted laugh. Holli was approaching her tenth birthday. This was when she was expected to make a choice: enrolling into the Sisters of the Ring for a lifetime of service to the Finisher cause or staying at home and learning to be a home maker from her mother and eventually taking a husband. For the longest time, she was certain of her choice. But the past few months have led doubt to bubble up within her. 

“Thank you.” Holli placed the notebook down onto her stack.

Cro nodded dutifully. “Should we begin training then, see how well you’ve mastered the last lessons?” 

Slapping his hands to the stone, he had begun to push himself up. Holli grabbed his arm again, pulling him back next to her. 

“I…missed you.” She whispered timidly, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh?” Cro’s arm muscles tensed up underneath her small hands.

“Did you…miss me?” 

Holli wasn’t sure he’d answer, and the moments of silence that came after her question felt like eternity. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and she had suddenly felt nauseous. Anxiety was a rare emotion for the young girl, and Cro had been the cause of so much of it for her, recently. She wanted to hate him for it. But he was strange and endearing and sweet and strong. And Holli had come to a realization recently that she didn’t hate him, it was quite the opposite.

Her hands loosened their grip on his arm.

“Abundantly.” Cro stated finally.

Letting out the breath in her lungs, Holli turned to meet his gaze. A gleeful smile had begun to creep up on her. She cleared her throat and nodded.

“Do you admit feelings for me, Cro?” Holli prodded further. Her own formal training coming through in her words.

Cro pursed his lips before giving a single nod of affirmation. “I do.”

Holli’s joyous expression widened, taking over her entire face. She clutched onto Cro’s arm tighter in an awkward and painful attempt to be like the Finisher women who walk with the Finisher men they court. She saw them sometimes gallavanting in this very garden during the three years the men are allotted to find a bride before going off to war.

If her pointy fingers hurt, Cro made no mention of it.

“Perhaps I should stay, then.” Holli suggested.

“No, you shouldn’t.” Cro pulled his arm from her grasp and turned his body so that he faced her. Holli blinked, unprepared for the sudden rejection. “You must go.”

Tears had already begun to well up, her feelings of hope being crushed before her.

“You don’t want to be with me in the future, then?” It stung, but it made sense. Although Cro had strange tendencies, he was always very put together. He would never struggle to find a match when it came time, especially after the years of chivalry and charm that the School of the Ring taught. That same poise could not be said of Holli. Cro had seen her at her lowest, meanest, and sweatiest this past few years. Perhaps he didn’t believe that she could grow out of these things.

Cro found her eyes, halting her tears from falling with the sincerity and wisdom that she found within them. Holli listened intently as he spoke.

“When my imagination is kind about the life I have before me, I cannot picture anyone but you as my eventual wife.” Cro grabbed Holli’s hand, reiterating his point with another statement. “If I do not marry you, Holli, I’m sure I will not marry.”

“I don’t get it, then.” She shook her head.

Letting out a sigh, Cro released her hand. “I cannot be selfish. To deprive the Finisher clan of such a strong fighter and resign her to do nothing but fret and wait until I return from battle, like my mother and hers before that. I will not ask you to give up your desire to fight for my desire of your companionship.” 

Holli pursed her lips in thought. The decision felt so large now that it made her head hurt. This was the only boy that had ever thought of her as an equal, and she’s sure he’s the only one who has ever admitted that a girl could also be a strong fighter. This admission almost made her want to agree just so she wouldn’t be letting him down.

“You don’t get to choose for me.” She eventually decided, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “It’s not just about you. I can decide how best to serve the Finisher clan myself. And you claiming you know what’s best for me is stupid.”

“That’s not what I meant-” Cro’s brows furrowed tightly as he leaned in closer. Holli threw out an accusatory finger his way, stopping him in his place.

“Would you marry me when we’re older, yes or no?”

“Milady, I think that-” Holli’s finger poked him firmly in the chest.

“Stop thinking. Yes or no?” She waited expectantly.

Cro’s knowing smile appeared on his face. He was the top of his class and tougher than any other boy in his year, yet somehow Holli always won. “Yes.”

She retracted the finger and bounced happily up and down. Holli beamed a bit as she giggled excitedly. “Alright. It’s decided, then. One day, Cro, I’ll be your wife.” 

Without hesitation, Holli found her way to her feet. She grabbed one of the small notebooks from the stack and held it up with a small sigh.

“I guess it’s time to go over last years lessons now.” 

Cro stared at her for a long moment. He ran his hand through his messy hair before his mischievous smile returned to his face. When he stood, he now towered over her by a few inches. She didn’t mind, though, as it just made it easier to knock him off his balance. And they began sparring for the first time in a year.

[swordduels]

As the dove came back there was a blazing sun and no winds. It was quite a contrast to the other time when Sigfrid had been standing in a winter landscape. Eskild soaked in sea water beside Blue Maiden. Alfhild was repairing her clothes. The song writer Bellman tried to fish. Sigfrid had been struck with fever after overheating and laid down to rest below deck. The sound of footsteps stirred him awake as Alfhild came down with a letter. “Knock knock captain.”  “Morning. Is there any wind yet?” “Nah. But you got a letter from your friend.” “Oh. Already?” While speaking he sat up. “Yup. Do you want me to read it?” “I want to read it myself.” She shrugged and gave him the letter. “Make sure you get some water and rest or that fever won't go down. You hear me?” Alfhild narrowed her eyes and pointed at him. “It’s enough that you broke your arm.” She turned to leave but stopped. “You should know I only follow you because I prefer dreamers with potential. As soon as you are healed I’m gonna whip you into shape so we can kick some butts.” Sigfrid snorted and held on to the letter. “Roger that.” He watched her leave before reading the message.

The smile Sigfrid was carrying grew at the encouragement to become stronger and how far he had come so far. They were going so far as to say he was becoming a great captain. At times he didn't feel like a captain when Alfhild bossed everyone around. However, he called the shots when it came to directions based on maps and star constellations. Sigfrid was also the one picking out crew members. It warmed him that they were worried and warned him of the dangers even though it was a bit too late. The letter should have been a hint of how things had escalated. Still he appreciated the gesture as it sounded like genuine concern for his well being. Most of the letter’s message had a light hearted tone so far. Though he could tell that things in Wano were crumbling.

There was a loud snort. Yes. He was guilty of falling in love with everything new. Fawning over pretty girls was one of his many flaws and he would be crushing hard for some time before it calmed down. While reading he noticed the ink spots which made him imagine them laughing loudly while writing that part.

Of course he would have them as a crew member, there was no questioning it. It had been his plan from the beginning after all. As soon as he was strong enough he would return to show them everything worth seeing, be it fauna, culture or history. It must be painful for them to be stuck while he was exploring a new life. At the same time it sounded like the stories were uplifting which was a positive in the bleak environment Yamato described. The longing for something else was constant throughout the letter which made him feel a bit guilty despite it not being his choice to leave. As much as he wanted to take them away at once it wasn't right to risk them exploding. He sighed and laid down. The grin returned as he saw the paw print.

The letters that followed were written on different papers with all kinds of aliases. Each letter arrived in irregular patterns. Sometimes they were long and had detailed descriptions of scenarios that sounded fantastical. Sword fights with sand squids, underwater cities, buildings made of animal skeletons and flying machines. Other times they were much shorter but still had a lot of updates on what was going on.

On the trip they met a princess who sent out her band of pirates to plunder. There was a  village where kids dressed as witches once a year to avoid being hunted by witches and monsters. Sigfrid had a month where he learned how to fence in a cave filled with bats without disturbing them before he was forced to slice falling water and make sure it didn’t fall into a volcano. Another part of his training was to use his sword to guide clouds while being attacked by an air shark. Eskild was kidnapped once by a zoo keeper who kept animals in tiny cages. Alfhild was revealed to be a princess married to a prince and at one point she invited them to meet her best friend who was a snow monster. The pirate crew gained two more members with pirate backgrounds, Ingela Hammer and Lassie Streetwalker. Ingela had the power to turn her arm into a hammer while Lassie was a master of disguises and could magically alter fabric. He kept asking about their well-being in ways that wouldn’t reveal Yamato’s identity. When writing he worked on phases that wouldn’t directly reveal what he was actually answering. At times there were drawings to illustrate strange animals or cultural sites that looked different from anything in Wano.

After a while there was a gap of five months passing without a letter being sent. Then one night Sigfrid stepped onto the sandy beach in Wano together with Eskild, Alfhild, Bellman, Ingela and Lassie. Together they partly dragged a busted ship before tying it to a tree. The ship itself was sapphire blue with a wooden woman at the front. “Alright Sigfrid, what’s next?” Asked Ingela while dusting off her hands. “I’m gonna find an old friend and then we’ll see.” “Fantastic, I’m impressed by your strategic skills.” Remarked Alfhild and crossed her arms. “That’s the way I roll.” Sigfrid said gleefully and began walking.

“I’m getting married.” Sigfrid’s voice was so frail and quiet. There was no life in his facial expression. It was as if someone had sucked out all the joy in his eyes. He slumped down against a tree and leaned his head back. His breath smelled of alcohol. Clothes were wrinkled and several buttons were lost. The mahogany colored hair that usually reached his shoulders was an unkept bird nest. He slowly tilted his head to look at them while swallowing. “My mother and father found a husband for me.” His voice kept trembling. “I’ll be married in a month. There will be a cake. I’ll be wearing a dress. They made a guest list. Then. Then I’ll be shipped off.” Sigfrid blinked furiously before he grabbed his hair hard with both hands.There came a pained growling sound from his throat. “They have planned everything for me.”  

[corpsekiller]

your writing is amazing!!! dadtoki makes me so happy and i wanted to ask if you would write more found family fics with him and perhaps the reader as a second parental figure?

✝ 𝖧𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖨𝖲 𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱 𝖨'𝖬 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 𝖸𝖮𝖴 — 𝖦𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖮𝖪𝖨

thank you for your request, my dear. dadtoki has a special place in my heart and i will never stop writing about the found family trope and the yorozuya, so i really couldn't stop myself from writing this <33

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. sakata gintoki x genderneutral!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. hurt/comfort, rluff, mentions of blood, dad!toki

MASTERLIST

Gintoki wonders how he got here.

The park is nearly empty at this time. A few children still run around the playground nearby and a couple strolls down the lonely path hand in hand, but the sun is already setting and most people are rushing home to enjoy dinner with their families. It’s too hard to decipher the letters of his new Shounen Jump by now and he gave up on reading anyway, the magazine long forgotten in his lap as he watches Kagura and Shinpachi chase around the meadow.

They’re laughing loudly, dodging each other’s hands and hiding behind trees and bushes, sometimes even jumping over Sadaharu who’s been dozing off since they arrived and seemingly doesn’t mind them climbing over his back. Every once in a while his left ear twitches at the sounds of their giggles and his eyes crack open to follow the kids dashing around his sleeping figure before he falls back into his slumber.

“I think we should head home soon, it’s already getting dark,” you mutter beside him. Gintoki nods blankly, only turning his head when you dig the tip of your finger into his cheeks and although his expression doesn’t change once his gaze meets yours, his heart still jumps in his chest at the sight of you wrapped tightly in his white yukata to protect yourself from the cold breeze sweeping through the park. You look so beautiful and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from staring at you like a creep when you brush a strand of your hair behind your ear and give him a gentle smile before you scoot closer to him and snuggle into his side.

Sometimes, he’s convinced that this is just a figment of his imagination. It’s in moments like these when everything seems just a little too perfect to be real that he wonders how he got here, how his life turned out to be so beautiful after everything he’s done — the kids are laughing and you’re reaching out to grab his hand, soft and warm against his skin, a small reminder that yanks him back into reality.

“Gin, are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout me. I’ll get the brats, you stay here,” he croaks, shaking his head to get rid of his thoughts and turning to call out for Shinpachi and Kagura right as she trips over her own feet. “Oi! Be careful—”

The words leave his mouth before he can even think, but it’s too late.

Kagura shrieks and instinctively raises her arms to shield herself from the impact before she lands face first in the dirt and Shinpachi, who’s been grinning from ear to ear only mere seconds ago nearly stumbles into a tree when he hears her fall. Worry is written into the crease of his brows as he whips his head around to check if she’s alright, even though his glasses have fallen into the grass and his vision has turned blurry.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kagura groans as she fights to get up. Mud sticks to her pale cheek, a few leaves have found their way into her tousled hair and for a moment, everything seems to be fine until her eyes search his. Tears cling to her lashes and her bottom lip begins to tremble, barely holding in a sob and Gintoki is about to jump to his feet in panic, but you’re faster.

Rushing past him, you crouch down beside the girl and pull her into a hug, one hand cupping the back of her head and the other one resting on the small of her back to draw soothing circles. Small hands wrap around your chest and dig into the yukata engulfing your body, then she buries her face in your shoulder — she’s crying, sniffling and whimpering quietly as if she isn’t quite sure whether she’s even allowed to show weakness.

Gintoki knows she’s a Yato and she endured injuries much worse than this, but at this moment, as you rock her back and forth, comforting her with loving words and a tight hug, he is once again reminded that she’s just a kid. Much like Shinpachi, she was never allowed to be just that — and like him, they had to grow up too fast, never had a childhood that wasn’t defined by blood and violence, and never had someone who looks out for them until they met him.

And look, he doesn’t really think he’s made for this whole single dad thing he’s got going on since he picked them both up, but he’s been trying his best to make them feel safe and loved, and even though it’s quite exhausting to keep them both fed when his own wallet is empty, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He does have to admit that he’s grateful you came along though. Somehow, you completed their little family and it becomes so much clearer to him as he watches you inspect Kagura’s injury, the fabric of her pants ripped and soaked with the blood from her grazed knee, carefully dabbing the wound with a tissue to clean away any dirt.

She’ll get a bandaid at home, a pretty pink set with little dogs on them he got from the store a while ago, in case his kids got hurt because that’s what they are now — they are his kids and this is his family, not the one he was born with, but the one he chose.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” you encourage Kagura, grabbing her smaller hand to help her onto her feet. “I’ll buy you sukonbu on our way, okay?”

He groans loudly. These brats will cost him an arm and a leg and his pockets were already empty before they even came along.

“Right, Gintoki?” You give him a pointed look as if you could read his thoughts and he nods defeatedly, already searching for some coins in his worn wallet. Whatever makes you happy.

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 2/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,100+

Warnings: absent father, subtle violence, mention of family death

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

Part 1

Bruce was working in the cave when Alfred interrupted him.

“Master Wayne, a guest has arrived unexpectedly.”

Bruce gave him a strange look. Hardly anyone showed up to the manor unannounced.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Alfred added.

“Right,” Bruce sighed.

“She’s waiting for you in your office.”

Bruce found Y/N pacing in the room, refusing to take the seat that he was sure Alfred offered her.

“Y/N,” he greeted, remembering how she disliked the formalities last night.

She whipped around at his greeting. “Am I your charity case now?”

He feigned confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

She looked offended by his lie. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You paid all of my outstanding expenses that my mother left me.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” she warned.

Bruce closed his mouth.

“Look, I don’t need your help,” Y/N sighed in obvious irritation. “Did you or did you not pay them?”

He took in a shallow breath, “I did.”

Y/N clenched her jaw as Bruce finally admitted his deed.

“I was only trying to help.”

“You can’t just throw money at me and expect it to make up for being a no-show.”

Bruce tensed. 

Did that mean…Did she know?

“You read the letter?” He asked.

“No,” she clarified. “But I figured it out.”

“I had no idea,” he tried to tell her.

“I don’t care,” she almost snorted.

“You have ever right to be angry with me…”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed.”

She took a defiant step toward him and crossed her arms.

The heeled boots she had on caused her already tall height to make her be eye to eye with Bruce. 

How many people had faced off with Batman and cowered with fear? 

But she didn’t submit or show any signs of intimidation.

“Do you think I cried myself to sleep every night as a child, wondering where my dad was or why he didn’t want me?” Y/N hissed.

Bruce didn’t respond.

“You think I give a fuck about the father-daughter dances? Or whatever the hell people think dads are only capable of doing?” She narrowed her eyes. “The thing is…I didn’t need you. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

Bruce felt sick as he listened to her.

“I have the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t have been there for those anyway,” she added roughly. “My mom loved me more than enough. I didn’t need anyone else. And she made damn sure of that.”

“So I’m not your charity case to make yourself feel better after my mom made it clear she thought it was better to keep me from you, than to ever tell you that I existed. Says a lot about what kind of person she thought you are, huh?”

When Y/N finally stopped, she was taking deep breaths.

Bruce wondered how long she had that all bottled up. He didn’t think anything she said was a lie. Y/N didn’t need him. That had become clear.

She had grown up to be a successful, intelligent, and independent young woman.

And she got that way without a father figure of any sort.

After a few moments, Bruce finally bowed his head and cleared his throat. “I never intended on making you feel like a charity case.”

Bruce saw as Y/N took in a deep breath and the guilt slowly took over her expression.  

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “we finally know the truth. Let’s just…let’s just move on with our lives. OK?”  

Bruce couldn’t deny that the suggestion hurt.

After processing the news over the past week or so, he realized he wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t the first time a child of his had been dropped on him far too late. He had failed Damian in so many ways because of it. 

But Y/N was a young woman, fully developed and independent now. And Bruce couldn’t help but wonder that him being absent from her childhood had only benefitted her.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally told her.

Y/N didn’t know him well enough to hear the underlying pain in his words.

So she simply nodded and walked past him, having nothing more to say.

——————

Bruce adjusted his tie. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off his neck.

But he was on his best behavior tonight.

This year, the Gotham Gazette was given the honor of hosting the Pulitzer Prizes. And since Bruce and Wayne Enterprises donated quite a large sum of money to the Gotham Gazette, they felt inclined to invite him.

Bruce had every intention of skipping, until he found out that Lois Lane was receiving an award and Clark would also be attending.

He figured the least he could do was congratulate her and say hi to both of them.

That’s why he was trying to find them as soon as possible so he could and get the hell out of there.

Bruce finally spotted Clark talking to a woman whose back was to him. All he saw of her was the black dress and y/h/c hair. 

He made his way over.

Clark noticed him when he was a few feet away.

“I see you’ve finally left your cave,” he teased with a lift of his brow. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show.”

But when the woman Clark was speaking to turned to look at him, Bruce swore he felt his heart stop.  

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly just as surprised at seeing Bruce.

None of this went missed by Clark. “Oh, do you two know each other?”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond. What would Y/N want? 

So he hesitated.

“I shot him for a cover once,” Y/N answered quickly.

She was a shockingly smooth liar.

Maybe she got that from Bruce, too.

But she didn’t realize that Clark could hear her heart rate quicken, catching the fib.

“And how exactly do you two know each other?” Bruce asked, recovering quickly.

“Y/N works with Lois a lot,” Clark answered. “She basically refuses to work with any other photographer.”

Y/N managed to force a smile.

“I should actually go find her and say my congrats,” she answered. 

“And I need to hunt down a drink,” she mumbled. 

Both men caught it.

Clark was rather taken aback by how she fled.

The Y/N he knew was always charming and kind, usually life of the party. He’d never seen her dodge a conversation in such a way before.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Clark gave a intimidating glare to Bruce.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He asked Bruce.

But Bruce only clenched his jaw.

“Past fling?” Clark asked with a somewhat disappointed tilt of his head.

“No. Nothing like that,” Bruce quickly corrected.

Not only did the idea make him feel sick. But if rumors started of the two of them being romantically linked, Bruce knew it would only make Y/N hate him more than she clearly already did. 

Thankfully, Clark took his denial seriously.

“She’s not my biggest fan,” Bruce added darkly.

“Y/N is a good friend,” Clark told him – almost in warning. “Lois and her have become rather close over the years.”

Then Clark smirked. “She does know how to hold a grudge though. And she’ll make your life hell...if you deserve it.” 

Bruce’s brain hurt as he realized how easily Y/N and his path’s could’ve crossed. She had been friends with Clark and Lois this whole time?

“I’m happy for her,” Clark added.

“Happy for her?”

Clark looked at Bruce as if it was obvious. “She’s being awarded tonight, too.”

How could Bruce not have realized? Why didn’t he think of looking at the list of people being awarded tonight? He’d been dreading attending so much that he didn’t even consider it.

“Bruce?” Clark asked with concern.

“Hmm?” He was not one to hum or mumble.

“You alright?”

Bruce didn’t have a lot of friends.

But Clark Kent was one of them. And him and Diana had noticed how Bruce was acting off for weeks now. Bruce was notorious for remaining stoic and giving nothing for people to try and guess what he was thinking or feeling. But they both knew it was something different. 

Someone over Bruce’s shoulder suddenly waved Clark over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Clark told Bruce politely.

Bruce’s first instinct was to leave now that he knew Y/N was also in attendance.

But he knew he couldn’t act so cowardly.

Was he really that scared of his own daughter?

His eyes glanced around the room looking for her.

He spotted Y/N at one of the bars.

Either her conversation with Lois had been quick, or she simply used that as an excuse to get away from Bruce.

Bruce walked up beside Y/N at the bar.

He knew she felt his arrival by the way her body tensed.

“Had I known you would be here I would not have attended,” he told her while looking straight ahead.

Y/N ignored his apology. “How do you know Clark?”

“He’s a friend,” Bruce answered casually.

Then he allowed himself to take a sideways glance at her.

Her jaw was clenched.

He wondered what thoughts she was holding back.

Y/N really did remind him of her mother.

When they were together, Bruce was convinced she was the prettiest girl in the world. He wondered if Y/N had found someone in her life who told her the same.

“Congratulations on being honored tonight,” Bruce offered sincerely.

“Thank you,” she answered shortly.

A beat passed between them.

Bruce was about to give up and leave her be.

“Does Clark think I’m one of your one-night stands now?”

Y/N might not know Bruce well, but everyone was familiar with his romantic history. He wasn’t one to keep the same woman around for long. 

“No,” he quickly answered. “I made sure to prevent such a rumor from starting.”

Y/N finally slowly turned to him, her annoyance clear. “And you’re convinced that he really believed you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Clark has always been rather good at detecting a lie.” His tone was so confident that it left little room for argument.

But Bruce knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He dipped his head. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Congratulations again.”

But Bruce lingered, debating if he wanted to say what was on my mind.

“You look very beautiful. Just like your mother.”

There was nothing creepy or contrived about it.

Y/N blinked at the compliment, completely taken aback.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Bruce dipped his head and finally surrendered, leaving the party.

Y/N felt a presence behind her shoulder as he watched him leave.

“Was Bruce Wayne just hitting on you?” Lois asked with amusement.

“No. Not at all,” her tone was dazed and confused.

“He’s a good guy,” Lois told her lightly.

“Doubt it.”

“I mean it,” Lois insisted. “The media has given him a bad image. But I think he likes it that way,” she shrugged. “It’s not easy for him to open up. He’s not quick to trust.”

Lois thought she was building up a possible suitor for Y/N, having not a clue that she was describing Y/N’s father to her.

But Y/N was too busy thinking about how much Bruce sounded like her.

—————

A few weeks had gone by since Bruce and Y/N had run into each other at the ceremony.

It got Bruce to thinking: would he and Y/N had run into each other at some point in life – even without her mother’s posthumously confession?

Y/N knew Lois and Clark, lived in Gotham, seemed to know the same people through her work that Bruce was forced to interact with to keep up his persona.

Would he have sensed a connection had that been the case?

The possibilities kept Bruce up at night…along with the guilt that had already been eating away at him since he first read the later. And he’d read it 100 times more since.

Of all the boys, Dick was the only one that knew of Y/N’s existence. And if he hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, Bruce never would’ve told him. He had just been in shock after reading the letter that he blurted out the realization while Dick was in the same room.

Since then, Bruce didn’t linger in a room alone with him, knowing Dick would finally let all of his questions loose. And Bruce wasn’t ready to answer them.

While Tim was the one to connect them, he never followed through with what the situation was. He already had too much to deal with on a daily basis. Tim simply thought he was doing a nice favor for a beautiful woman. 

But if Bruce had told him, Tim would immediately do every possible background check on Y/N. He would be suspicious of the timing and underlying motives. He would probably assume that Y/N’s end goal was to get money or fame – or both. Bruce knew eventually Tim would come to the conclusion that Y/N wanted neither of those things. But it would still get an unnecessary rise out of the boy.

Bruce didn’t even want to think about how Damian would handle it. He knew his son felt a certain level of pride from being the only blood-son of his. Knowing he had a sibling – and an older sister at that – would most likely enrage him. And that wouldn’t make anything better. 

Jason…Well, Jason would get a kick out of Bruce letting down yet another child. And it would just be worse that she was blood related. He’d be curious about Y/N. Hell, he’d probably be tickled by the no-bullshit attitude Y/N had towards Bruce and her harsh efforts to keep him out of her life completely.

Now, Bruce sat at a Justice League meeting.

They were only a few minutes into a council session when his communicator started going off.

The boys knew not to contact him unless it was an emergency. So, he quickly excused himself and stood to leave the room.

“What is it?” Bruce answered, his Batman voice in full form.

“There’s been an attack at city hall,” Dick reported back hurriedly.

Bruce frowned. The boys had handled much worse things on their own before. There had to be more to it than that.

“Scarecrow,” Dick confirmed. “He released a fear toxin. It’s bad Bruce. The mayor has been infected, along with half of their staff. I think it’s a new string. Our antidote doesn’t seem to doing anything. Even if it did, we don’t have nearly enough for the amount of victims.”

“The others?” Bruce asked quickly – meaning Damian, Jason, and Tim.

“They’re fine. Jason’s trying to get everyone out before they inhale too much. Tim and Damian went after Scarecrow. GPD is in a panic.”

Bruce turned to see Clark had raced to his side. Clearly he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. But the expression in his face prevented Bruce from getting into an argument about it.

“What?” Bruce asked him, knowing something was wrong.

“Lois and Y/N were at that council meeting,” Clark breathed out.

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce told Dick before hanging up.

—

Bruce thought he knew fear from the few times his boys had been in trouble. But it was nothing compared to the fear he had knowing it was Y/N this time. She wasn’t a trained vigilante; she was just an innocent civilian. Bruce had not insured that she was trained and could take care of herself.

As soon as Clark dropped them on the ground, they were in the midst of the chaos.

“Lois!” Clark yelled.

People were too distracted to notice Superman and Batman had arrived.

Bruce looked over to see Lois rushing to Clark. He could tell it took all of Clark’s willpower not to embrace Lois from his relief.

“Are you OK?” Clark asked as he dipped his head and his eyes raced across his wife’s body.

“I-I’m fine. I got lucky. Somehow I was out of range of the gas explosion.”

“Y/N?” Bruce interrupted. “Did you see Y/N?”

“She was helping these kids get out and I was getting shoved out of the building. I tried to get to her but it was impossible with everyone’s panic. I think she’s still in there.”

Before Bruce could turn to Clark to come up with a plan, Clark flew into the building. A few people finally noticed the presence of superheroes and started murmuring.

“Nightwing, Red Hood – I’m at the front entrance of City Hall.”

Clark flew back to them not even 30 seconds later.

Y/N was unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Lois muttered at Y/N’s condition.

“She’s gone into shock. We need to get her to the medics,” Clark informed them. “She was exposed to the toxin more than the others.”

But Bruce was already shaking his head. “They won’t be able to help her.”

Clark gently handed Y/N to Bruce as he explained, “There are others in there.”

Just then Nightwing and Red Hood dropped in front of them.

Nightwing immediately recognized Y/N and his eyes shot up to Bruce with worry.

“Nightwing, I need you to take her back to the cave,” he tried to sound as controlled as possible.

Bruce was confused why Dick hesitated to take Y/N out of his arms.

“Do you have the batmobile? I brought my motorcycle,” Dick sounded apologetic when he explained.

Jason stepped forward before Bruce could answer. “I got her.”

As if she were the most fragile being ever, Jason carefully took Y/N’s unconscious body from Bruce’s grip. He could see in Bruce’s gaze that she was someone special. How and why, Jason would figure out later. 

Jason had seen Y/N trying to help as many people before she was completely poisoned from the toxin. She’d risked her life to help. 

Watching Jason cradle her into his body caught Clark off guard, always seeing the brute strength and almost animalistic energy from Red Hood whenever they so happened to fight beside each other.

“Meet us at the cave,” Bruce clarified. “Alfred will know what to do. We have to help out here more.”

Jason nodded before he hurried away with her and rushed to his hidden car.  

——————

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she shot up, sitting in a cot.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a voice she didn’t recognize said beside her. “You gotta relax.”

She turned to see a mammoth of a man sitting beside her, wearing vigilante gear with at least two guns being displayed at his sides. But it was the red helmet completely hiding his face and true voice that made Y/N feel uncomfortable.

“What the fuck,” she groaned at the sight of him.

Just a few seconds later, two men rushed into the room.

Bruce walked in still in his Batman uniform, but without his cowl – to Jason’s shock.

Clark was beside him, making Jason confused as to why he was still here. Surely he would want to be with Lois. 

Y/N took in the sight before her.

“You were poisoned with a new strand of Scarecrow’s toxin,” Superman explained.

Y/N had seen plenty of pictures and shaky video of him. But now that the man stood before her, she immediately recognized him.

“Clark?” She gasped.

He didn’t say anything. But his expression didn’t fight her realization, just silently waited for the truth to settle.

“Does Lois know?” Was her next question.

Clark smirked at that. “Of course.”

Y/N gave a slight nod.

But now her attention switched to Bruce. 

The Batman symbol was large across his chest, and his cape was still intact.

She looked around her surroundings and then up at the ceiling.

They were in a cave.

“You’re…you’re…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Batman,” Bruce finally offered.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with panic.

How was this possible?

Now that the others had exposed their identity, Jason felt inclined to take off his helmet. Clearly, it was making her uncomfortable.

The hiss of his helmet being removed caused Y/N to finally look away from her father and to Jason, who still wore a domino mask. But it was far less frightening than the helmet.

“We’ll give you two a moment alone,” Clark spoke for both him and Jason.

Jason nodded and stood up from the seat beside Y/N, and walked out. 

Clark lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he told her.

He might’ve revealed his Superman identity to her, but she was still his friend.

Y/N managed to nod in thanks, but was clearly still shook by all this news.

Bruce very slowly made his way to the chair that Jason had just been sitting in.

“How are you feeling?”

She shook her head. “Body’s sore. Migraine is killing me. What happened?”

“You were more exposed to the toxin more than the other victims. Jason brought you here. We had to make a new anecdote, and quickly.”

Bruce wanted to add that she could’ve died. But he didn’t see the use in scaring her.

“Oh,” was all she managed to mumble.

An awkward silence settled between them.

“Very few people know the truth about me,” Bruce explained.

Y/N’s gaze flickered up from her lap to look at him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I figured I couldn’t ask you to allow me into your world if I didn’t allow you into mine.”

She was silent.

“Y/N…” Bruce cleared his throat. The time had come. “The reason I left your mother was because I was starting this life. I pushed her away to protect her. I knew I couldn’t be the man she deserved while also being Batman. Had I known the truth…”

His words died out. It was starting to become harder to control his emotions.

He leaned forward in his chair, just getting slightly closer to her.

“Had I known about you, I would’ve…” He cleared his throat to try and hold back his tears. “I never would’ve abandoned you or your mother.”

He leaned back then. “But I know those are just words. And to you, they probably sound like empty promises for the past.”

“She never knew?” Y/N whispered.

In the few moments she was allowed to process this information, her mind immediately wondered if her mom had known about Bruce’s double life all along. And that’s why she kept him away from her.

Bruce shook his head.

“Thank you…for trusting me enough to tell me your secret,” Y/N finally told him. “I promise I’ll never tell anyone,” she quickly added, feeling like she just needed to clarify that to him.

He gave her a small small, “I know.”

Y/N winced as she thought about how terrible she’d been to him all this time. Now that she knew the truth – the whole truth – she was looking at everything with a new perspective. Even what she knew about Bruce Wayne, the spoiled socialite... it was clearly all wrong. 

He used it as a cover. It was all a cover.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you,” she whispered shakily.

But Bruce shook his head before she could even get the apology out.

“Do you think it’s too late for us?” She breathed. 

Could they ever find any fragment of a father-daughter relationship?

Y/N was an adult – she had been for years now. And she made it clear she didn’t need nor want a father.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Bruce sighed.

Her brow furrowed. “This meaning…?”

“My son, Damian. His mother kept him a secret from me. She didn’t reveal his existence until he was nine. And she only did it in an attempt to disrupt my life.”

“This seems to be a rather strange pattern in your life,” Y/N couldn’t help but point out.

Bruce glared at her, causing her to chuckle.

“My point is,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s ever too late.” And he cleared his throat quickly. “That is, if you want to try.”

“I think I do,” she answered with a shy smile.

It was the first time she’d done so in his presence.

“I don’t know anything about raising a daughter,” Bruce rubbed his face as he attempted to make the joke. But she could tell there was sincerity there, too.

“Well, I’ve already been raised,” Y/N laughed.

There.

That laugh.

It brought Bruce back to his teenage years. It sounded so much like her mother. Her face lit up just like her’s had.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” he gasped.

Her face dropped at his confession.

“Really?”

He nodded. “She said you were just like me. But there’s more of her in you than I think she ever realized.”

Bruce saw his much his words effected her.

Y/N’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

“So what now?” She quickly asked, obviously trying to distract herself so she wouldn’t have a complete emotional breakdown.

“Well, Alfred should have dinner ready soon. Would you stay?”

She gave him a tear-filled smile. “I’d like that.”

“You can meet the rest of them,” Bruce told her casually as he stood.

“The rest of them?”

He nodded. “Well, you only have to meet Damian now. You already met Jason, Dick, and Tim in passing.”

“And here I thought you had no idea how to be a father…” Y/N muttered with amusement.

Bruce helped her get out of bed, making sure she was alright to stand and walk on her own.

“Well, depending on which of them you ask, they might tell you that you’re right.”

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

Thank you to everyone who read the first part. Let me know what you think <3

BONUS: This Game of Ours

[aurorablue22]

Reunited - Sirius Black x Reader

Summary/(A/N): After 14 years, Harry’s Godmother is finally reunited with her husband. I made this sort of specific to whatever my own mind came up with; (Y/N) is Harry’s Godmother, and has of course known the Marauders since their school days. She’s known Harry since the events of POA, and she took him in. Harry and (Y/N) have lived together for the past two years, and although Harry has met and seen Sirius, the most that (Y/N) has received is letters. Finally, in OOTP, they’re reunited. 

Warnings: None really, maybe a lil’ kissing scene <3 

“Good morning my dear!” you said as you walked into the kitchen, where Harry was cracking an egg over the frying pan.

“Mornin’ (Y/N).” he smiled, and you walked over to him.

“Y’know Harry, you don’t have to make breakfast for us. Even after all this time I feel bad-”

“(Y/N), I’m fine, I promise. Besides, I already made you tea.” he nodded towards the counter, and you gave a pouty smile as you picked up the mug. “Sweet boy.” you cooed, and ruffled his hair. 

You and your godson were enjoying whatever Harry had whipped up, and talking about the strange dream he had last night, when an owl tapped on the window. You took a swig from your tea mug and lifted the latch, letting the dusty creature inside. It gave a polite hoot, and you bowed your head in return. 

You unfastened the letter from the owl’s foot while Harry filled a bowl with water and a plate with bacon scraps.

“Oh, it’s from Rem!” you hastily tore the envelope, and slipped the parchment through the folds. Sprawled across the yellowed paper was half-messy, half-loopy writing, which you’d grown quite familiar with. 

“What’s he up to?” Harry asks nonchalantly. 

Your eyes quickly moved from left to right, scanning over the message. Your brain hung onto specific words; Order, Phoenix, Army, The Dark Lord... and Padfoot. 

You took a breath in as you read your husband’s name, and Harry peeked over your shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, my dear..” you shook your hand, handing him the message. “It’s just..”

Harry immediately understood. “Well, that’s a good thing, right? You do want to see him... right?” 

You whipped around, your updo falling loose. “Of course I want to see him! I just... I just don’t know.. “ you sighed, and sat back at the kitchen table. Your brain floated back to what Remus had written; how the Order was reassembling, and he was extending the invite to you, just like he had in the 70s. 

Not only that, but he had scribbled something along the lines of “Padfoot will be joining us as well. I do hope you’re willing to see him.”

Of course you did! But it was complicated to explain to others. You were nervous. The most communication you’d had with Sirius over the past two years was letters. Most of his were on scraps of newspaper, so you always made sure to pack extra parchment into your envelopes.

Within the past few weeks, his message arrived a lot cleaner and appeared less rushed, which you appreciated. Each time an owl arrived, your heart soared. But in those letters, you couldn’t reveal anything about your lives, in case they fell into the wrong hands. That being said, the most you two could say to each other was “I love you”. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was just after 7 o’clock, when Remus and a girl with purple hair had come to pick up you and Harry. She introduced herself as ‘Tonks”. Of course, you hadn’t realized at the time she was your cousin in law. 

You both waved them off, Remus assuring them you’d catch up soon. You gave your Godson a kiss on the cheek.

“Be good,” you pointed your finger at him “Listen to Tonks”.

“I will, I will!” he teased. 

When they’d both left, you and Remus sat on the tiny loveseat in comfortable silence. 

“I wanted to check up on you,” he stated, and you looked up to reach his gaze. Oh, Remus. Your best friend. “I realize when I sent my letter it must’ve been a bit of a shock to you.” he placed his hand over yours.

“Oh yes, well, I think I might’ve frightened Harry more than anything. I’m not sure if he’s used to how dramatic I am yet.” you two laughed, Remus teasing you that it took him a long time to get used to it too. 

Your laughter died down, and Remus spoke again. “He’s very excited to see you, (Y/N). In fact, he’s been fixing up his hair all day.”

You couldn’t even laugh. That was such a Sirius thing to do. 

Your eyes glossed over at the thought, which Remus noticed immediately. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to see him Rem.” you cut him off, and you saw relief wash over his features. “I’m just a little nervous.”

It took a few minutes, but after a warm hug and Remus’s signature pep talks, you were ready to go. Never letting go of his hand, the two of you apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place. 

Always a gentleman, Remus opened the front door for you, and you were greeted by the distant chatter at the end of the hall. Although you couldn’t see any faces, you recognized the voice of your Godson and his friends, along with that of Mad-Eye and Mrs. Weasley, to be followed by- 

him. 

It was that glorious laugh you’d waited 14 years to hear, the sound bounced around your head and you began to feel faint. Remus patted your shoulder, and you turned your head to look at him. 

He nodded towards the end of the corridor, smiling. You took a deep breath, staring down the long hallway ahead of you. You brushed the stray hair out of your face and clenched your fists. As you began walking, you could hear Remus following close behind. 

Your footsteps were booming across the corridor, your pace picking up with every step. Your breathing heightened and your heart was in your throat. You pushed open the door in front of you, and it slammed against the wall. The sound alerted the entire room, and you scanned over everyone’s faces. You finally landed on those eyes, his eyes, still as grey and dreamy as you’d left them. 

“(Y/N)!” he shouted, getting up from his seat, looking anything but composed. 

“Sirius” you breathed, tears already forming. The two of you ran towards each other, and finally, after 14 long years, you found yourself in his embrace once more. 

It was tight and strong, he held you protectively yet with extreme caution. You sobbed into his chest, knowing that there weren’t enough words in the English language to describe how you felt at the moment. 

Much to your surprise, and those in the room, Sirius began to cry as well. Not as much as you, but tears fell from his eyes as though he was only a boy. You held onto him, not wanting to let go, your hands digging into his jacket, and your face buried in his chest. 

The world fizzled out around you, and you didn’t even notice how people were reacting to the scene. Remus leaned against the doorframe, wiping away a few tears himself; he felt so grateful he could see his best friends together once more. 

Although they would deny it later on, Harry and Hermione hid their emotions behind Ron, the both of them on the verge of an entire breakdown. This was followed by Mrs. Weasley, who was sniffing loudly as her husband passed her a handkerchief. 

Sirius was the first to pull away, and he cupped your face with his hands. He had a certain look on his face, as though he’d fallen in love all over again. He wiped away your tears with his thumb, and looked into your eyes. 

Your knees might’ve given out at that very moment if he wasn’t there to steady you. “Even more beautiful then when I left you.” he spoke, barely over a whisper, his voice sending those familiar tingles down your spine. 

You couldn’t even form words, you were so lost in his features. You only smiled, which he returned. “Why don’t we go into the other room, hmm?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, leading you out of the dining room. You could barely hear Ginny burst into loud sobs behind you, and how Mrs. Weasley followed suit. 

He walked you down the hall, and you never took your eyes off each other, only breaking the gaze when he opened the door to the living room. 

You two sat on the dusty couch in the dimly lit room, and he took your hands in his. You realized then and there how much you’d missed his loving gaze; at this point he was practically drooling at the sigh of you. 

He wrapped his arms around you once more, his head resting atop yours. “I’ve missed you so much my love, so very much.”

You only gripped him harder, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and his old cologne. Your eyes pricked yet again; it was the cologne you used to spray on his pillow when he was first imprisoned. 

“Sirius..” you said his name as though it were your only prayer. He hummed in response, lifting your face to meet his. You leaned in closer to him, your faces not even an inch apart. You closed the gap, your lips finally meeting his. You took in a breath through your nose, and butterflies began swarming in your stomach. 

You parted your lips, which Sirius took as an invite, and his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your hands found their way into his hair, and his around your waist. You felt your cheeks getting wet, and you realized it was from Sirius. A few tears had spilled from his eyes, but he didn’t let up from the kiss. 

It was full of passion and love, sprinkled with a bit of lust. He laid you gently on the couch, his body hovering over yours, and you finally broke apart. He gave a few gentle pecks down your neck, and returned to eye level with you. 

“Oh darling..” you spoke, trying to contain the emotions that were sure to spill out of you. Both of you were at a loss for words, simply staring at each other, taking in everything you’d missed out on. You smiled lovingly at him, and the corners of his mustache quirked as he did the same. You giggled, fiddling with his locks. 

“You grew a beard.” you stated, still admiring the sight before you.

“Do you not like it?” he asked, more so a rhetorical question than anything. 

“I find it very sexy.” you reassured him. 

He chuckled a bit, never taking his eyes off you. “Oh my dear,” he stroked the side of your face, and he brought you to sit back up. “I haven’t a clue how I managed without you.” 

A certain emotion flashed over his eyes, and he fought off a grimace, trying to outrun the hell that lived within him. You placed a hand on his cheek, your wedding band giving a bit of a cold sting to his face. 

He gently took your hand and brought it into view; his eyes crystallized once he saw the ring he’d given you so many years ago. “You kept it..” his tone was unsure, as though he was confused as to why you did. 

“Of course I did Siri, I love you.” your heart ached for him; he must’ve thought you’d moved on before he’d seen Remus again. You remembered the conversation you had with Remus a few months ago, where he opened up about seeing Sirius again. They’d been writing every couple of months, and Remus had to constantly reassure him that you were still available; that you’d never given up on your husband. 

“I’ll always love you.” you furrowed your brow in an attempt to conceal yet another sob.

“And I, you. My sweet girl.” Sirius placed a kiss on your knuckles, then moved back to your lips. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” he mumbled into the kiss, and you felt yourself melt in his embrace, knowing that you and your husband were finally reunited. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi my lovelies!! I hope you enjoyed reading this just as much as I loved writing it! Let me know if I should follow up on this “Reunited” fic, because I’m really looking forward to adding more. That would include something romantic and/or something smutty, I’m honestly up for anything bahaha. Please send in your requests, whether it be for this fic or really anyone in Harry Potter. And don’t be afraid of giving feedback, I’d love to know what you think! <3

~Aurora 

[adenei]

You're in my seat.

Written for @jilytoberfest 31 Prompts for 31 Days.

*********

“I still can’t believe you two are together,” Mary hissed in Lily’s ear.

They were making their way down to Transfiguration after eating breakfast in the Great Hall, and Lily had only just told Mary of her new relationship status when they woke up that morning.

“Shh, no one knows yet,” Lily scolded.

“Oh, please, you know he’s told the boys. There’s no way he could keep that from them. Six years of trying to win you over, then he finally does it and has to keep quiet? Yeah, right.”

“He would if I asked him to.”

“And did you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“My point exactly.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you love it.”

Lily smiled. She had to admit that she did love her best friend’s enthusiasm, even if she was overly smug about it.

As they entered the classroom, Lily followed the familiar path to the seat she’d grown accustomed to over the last few weeks. It was the same seat she’d occupied every year, but this year, James had slid into the spot next to her before Mary arrived on the first day of classes. Lily hadn’t complained, which surprised all of their closest friends.

And yet, when she looked up to see the familiar sight of James’s unruly inky hair, she realized he wasn’t alone at the small two-person desk. That snobbish Ravenclaw, Genevieve Prue had taken her seat and was chatting up her boyfriend. Lily narrowed her eyes, planning her game of attack. She was going to be polite about it, but then Genevieve’s hand reached out to graze James’s arm and Lily saw red.

She vaguely heard Mary mutter, “Oh, this is going to be good,” as she marched toward the pair. Stopping at the side of the desk, she slammed her books down.

“You’re in my seat.”

Genevieve turned slowly and gave her a disinterested look. “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

“Huh. I didn’t know I needed to label a seat I’ve been consistently sitting in for six years.”

“Or you could get here earlier next time. You know, I thought I’d be doing you a favor, considering you and James don’t like each other. Maybe I can even take him off your hands for you. Then you can have your precious little seat back.”

Lily’s vision erupted in flames at Genevieve’s snobbish comment. She’d learned how to keep her temper in check over the years, but Genevieve had crossed a line. There was no way Lily was going to let her steal her man.

She whipped out her wand, but instead of pointing it at Genevieve to hex her, she turned toward James. His eyes widened as he threw his hands up in the air, his mouth opening to defend himself, but Lily was faster. She conjured a label that stuck to James’s robes, just under his Head Boy badge. Loopy letters appeared that matched Lily’s handwriting next, and once they all materialized, it read: Property of Lily Evans.

Satisfied, she turned back to Genevieve with a triumphant smirk on her face. “Sorry, Genny, but I believe James is already taken, so you might want to go find someone else to paw over instead.”

“What the hell, Lily?”

“Would you like me to label the desk too, or can you take the hint?”

Lily folded her arms in front of her and waited. Genevieve’s nostrils flared as her face turned red in anger as she stood, slid her belongings off the desk, and stalked off to one of the desks in the back where her fellow Ravenclaw friends were sitting. Lily wasted no time occupying the now vacant seat and busied herself with taking out her notes and preparing for the day’s lecture. A slow clap sounded behind her, but she resisted the urge to look.

“Well done, Evans,” Sirius praised, and she felt a small smile creep across her lips.

The smile only grew wider as James leaned in and whispered in her ear, “So much for keeping it quiet for a while.”

Lily simply shrugged. “What can I say? I don’t like to share.”

Her retort was met with the sweet sound of James’s laughter before his lips grazed her cheek. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Oi, get a room!” Mary said, tossing a crumpled-up piece of parchment at the back of their heads.

“Please, Mac, don’t act like you haven’t been waiting forever for this,” James said behind his shoulder.

“Not as long as you, Potter, not as long as you.”

“Touche.”

Touche, indeed.

[eremiie]

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧!;

❥ 17k words | pure fluff | eren x reader

❥ eren’s birthday is in a couple days and what better way to celebrate it by hosting a party with your friends? only, you can’t help but feel a little stressed out and a litte nervous.

❥ authors note; don’t remind me that this is two days late, i know i know, i needed a break, but i hope you enjoy anyways >:)

4 days.

"connie, sasha! can you guys stop messing around for three seconds?"

connie and sasha turned around at the same time, your hand impatiently drummed against the counter as you gave them an irritated stare. your patience was growing thin as you wanted the outcome of this event to be perfect.

eren's birthday was a couple days away.

it wasn't always that you wanted to prepare events, as a matter of fact it stressed you out a little too much to do so. but, this was an event you wanted to take charge of— you wanted it to go perfect with the help of some of your closest friends.

you had met eren only the beginning of your first year in college— this year. it was the classic i need a roommate, so do you, so let's be roommates thing. it made things a little easier on you, bills were easier to pay, school was easier to get to, and eren brought more comfort to you.

he made you more social, introduced you to new friends, and became a role in your life.

sasha crossed her legs from her position on the floor, setting her arms on the table, clasping her fingers while she nodded her head hastily. "okay, i swear i'm listening now."

"sorry." connie murmured with a scratch of his head. he leaned forward on the coffee table, a look that said carry on staring at you as you stared at him.

you sighed, guilt creeping up on you for the harshness of your previous sentence. "...i didn't mean to sound aggressive, i'm sorry, i'm just kind of stressed." you rested your head on the palm of your hand as your eyes trailed over the sloppy notes scribbled on a piece of notebook paper armin tore for you.

the top of the paper was practically glaring at you "eren's birthday party!!!" slapped between the margins in led. you skimmed the notes, some of your friends name with a dash pointed to what they would handle in relation to the party. you gave the paper a grim look, as you almost couldn't read your own writing.

it couldn't go too wrong right? you felt as if eren was somewhat of a picky person but deep down you knew he'd love anything that his friends presented to him because of the sentiment and thought behind it. eren wasn't too difficult, so why were you stressing so much? you have a great group of friends beside you that were even willing to go through with this birthday party. what was bothering you?

"_____," armin's hand slid to your back, rubbing up and down in a comforting manner. he jolt you out of your thoughts, your head turning to the side to look at him.

a warm smile was on his face, blue eyes almost relaxing, almost putting you at ease. he removed his hand from your back and grabbed your hand that was in your lap, giving it a light squeeze. "you know, for one of eren's birthdays when he was a kid i made him a dirt cake and we sat outside and pretended to eat it." you couldn't help but giggle at the thought of a small eren and armin sitting in the grass playing with dirt. "he was happy enough to hang out with me and do that— he was also happy when mikasa embroidered him the letter E on a piece of cloth. he hung it on his backpack, i'm sure it's still back at his mom's house."

armin looked up to mikasa for confirmation and she nodded her head from behind him on the couch. she looked up to the ceiling, reminiscing on the small memory with a small smile as she fiddled with her fingers. "i'm sure eren would enjoy this just as much as a dirt cake."

"and a tiny E embroidery." mikasa added with a chuckle.

you let your hand smooth over the back of your neck and nodded. "yeah... yeah, he'll like it." you weren't sure if you were just saying that to reassure yourself or saying that because you meant it. either way, you picked up the mechanical pencil next to your elbow and began writing again.

"hitch," you repeated as you wrote down her name, your the end of your h flying as you lifted the pencil off of the paper.

hitch looked up at you from her phone. "what's up?"

"you know a lot of people." she looked up for a second tapping her chin, as if she was pondering.

"yeah... if i do say so myself, i'm a little popular." she shrugged her shoulders with a smirk and you rolled your eyes at her, the both of you letting out a small laugh.

"can you get the word out to some people you know eren knows?"

"who does eren know?"

"you know... besides us, maybe like..." you let your mind wander. eren wasn't the most social person but neither were you. in the least he was pretty known around campus, given his temper and his personality, not to mention his looks. he definitely got eyed around campus albeit only talking to a few people. you weren't surprised when someone waved hey to him while he was minding his own.

"i'm just messing, i'll figure out something." a light bulb went off in her brain, her eyes lighting up. "oh! i could even make a cute little digital flier to give them all the info— armin what's your address?" she had somewhat of a creative prowess that you were thankful for. always willing to help you with minor inconveniences whether it be your fashion choices, socializing with others, designing things, and much more.

armin began to tell her, his voice fading out as you looked towards sasha who now had her head laid down on the table, like you only moments ago. "sash," her eyes looked up to you and she picked herself up from the glass surface. "can you handle the cake and snack ideas?" you knew sasha would be the best bet for the food, especially considering she was currently taking a culinary arts program.

her eyes widened a bit, another haste nod of her head that made her hickory ponytail bounce with each up and down motion. "yeah, definitely! i have a friend that is really good at baking too, i could ask him for help on the cake."

you pointed the pencil in your hand towards sasha with a smile. "knew i could count on you, please spare enough for the party though."

she rolled her eyes hand reaching out to push your hand back down to the table. "shush, i was only gonna eat a couple bites of whatever we make— don't act like you've never treated yourself while cooking." you shook your head, looking back down to the paper and writing food and cake next to sasha's name hiding the small grin on your face. "caught!" she exclaimed, pointing at you with a snap of her fingers. "red handed!"

"oh, shush." you whipped your head behind you to look at jean who was sitting in between mikasa and hitch. "jean," and then to connie, next to sasha, his eyes low and his face straight— a clear look of boredom. "connie?"

the two boys answered with a small "hm?"

"can the three of us go for decorations like on..." you tapped the pencil in your hand to your chin. if eren's birthday was on the thirtieth, and you would be decorating on the twenty-ninth, you'd wanna get the decorations a little early on— better safe than sorry anyways. "twenty seventh or twenty eight?"

"decorations? this is gonna be fun." connie came more alive at the sound of decorations. with a  snicker, he rubbed his hands together like a classic villain in an old cliché movie.

"you guys are just coming with i'm not leaving y'all in charge of them. you'd fuck eren over."

"yeah? like how you wanna fu—" your hand slapped over connie's mouth faster than you could blink, connie's eyes going wide at the abrupt action and yours at the words that were beginning to spill over his lips. yes, you loved your friends but more often than not you couldn't stand them. sometimes you wondered if eren could've chose a better group of people to introduce you to. (in reality? you wouldn't trade them for the world.)

"no!" your response came out louder than you intended, the lot of your friends laughing. "can you not?" you turned back towards your paper, jotting down decorations beside jean and connie's names, your nose almost touching the white sheet with how close you were to it. the tingle of blood was flooding your cheeks and you took it upon yourself to take your time writing the date as well. "decorations, twenty eight."

"yes ma'am." jean replied clearing his throat with a small smirk on his face, glancing to connie before back to you. you sighed and rubbed your forehead.

"yes ma'am." connie repeated, small stifled chuckles trying to leave his quivering lips. you glared at him, and he tried not to smile, clearly dismissing how you were trying to kill him with a look.

armin spoke up, tapping your shoulder. "once you get the decorations stop by here, me and mikasa can help put them up the day of the party. you can come help too— make sure everything looks nice."

your attention was stolen, once again armin being the one who held it. "okay," decorating was already written next to mikasa and armin's names, but you marked the thirtieth next to it as well. "sasha, let's get the cake on the twenty-ninth so that it's closest to fresh as possible. i can come with right?"

"yeah, of course. i can pick you up that morning if you want me to."

that was perfect, you were practically beaming at the way everything was falling in place— everything felt as if it was falling in place, yes, but still your stomach flipped and your brain couldn't help but flood with the idea that something could go wrong.

you pushed the thoughts to the back of your brain and began to fold the paper in front of you neatly. "hitch, can i come over tomorrow? we can work on the digital fliers and figure out who to invite."

"sure, yeah, that's fine with me."

you pocketed the piece of paper and rose to your feet, pulling out your phone to check the time. you had been at armin and mikasa's place for four hours with your friends, and you had only been planning for a little bit— getting distracted was a hobby at this point. or maybe you were distracting yourself just because of the worry that the planning wouldn't go right.

"i'm gonna go," you stepped around the couch gingerly, avoiding the feet of your friends. "thank you guys."

armin followed your steps, standing up to trail after you. "i'll walk you to the door, the rest of them should be leaving soon too." he turned to the remainder, blonde brow rising over his eye. it wasn't a suggestion, you knew he'd be ushering them out the door soon enough.

"thank you, armin." not only thank you for a measly walk out the door, but a thanks to him helping you, keeping you at somewhat ease for the party. he was always so good to you— from helping you study when you needed it, talking to eren when he was upset with you. armin was always a shoulder to rely on, and you wouldn't have met him if it wasn't for eren. "thank you." you repeated under your breath as he opened the door for you.

the change in temperature as you stepped out the door felt better than it should have, the breeze hugged you tight, and you brought your hand to your chest as you stepped down the steps of armin's apartment.

you had a good set of friends on your shoulder, and a good plan in mind that you knew they'd help you with every step of the way. you breathed out through your nose and closed your eyes before turning back to the blonde, two calm oceans watching you with solicitude. "bye, armin." and another one of his warm smiles was thrown back to you as he waved and closed the door behind you.

when you returned to your apartment eren was asleep on the couch.

you moved as quietly as possible, shutting the door as quiet as you could muster. you slipped off your shoes and tiptoed over to the couch, every creak of the floor board felt like it could be heard no matter how quiet you thought you were being. although, when you peered down at eren's sleeping figure sprawled on the couch his eyes were still shut, he was still taken over by sleep.

even in his sleepy state his brows were still knit together, a small pout on his face as you listened to his slow breathing. his arm was supporting his head, the other one draped across his stomach and his hair wasn't in it's usual ponytail, hair messy and strewn about around his head and you almost wanted to let out a laugh at how cute he looked.

even though a bed probably would've been more comfortable, you didn't want to wake him. he looked pretty calm from where he was rested on the couch, eyes fluttering while they were still shut and lip twitching every now and then.

if you didn't know any better you would've bent down to place a kiss on his forehead, maybe the tip of his nose. or maybe you would've shook him awake and asked him to sleep beside you tonight. but you knew better and both of those options quickly dissolved from your mind before you could truly consider them.

instead, you took your time studying his pretty features until you felt like you studied long enough, almost surprised he didn't wake up, wondering why he felt like he was being watched. you spun on your heel and quietly creeped your way to your room, letting out a unsteady breath once you closed the door.

your back stayed pressed against the door as you looked at your feet. the chirp of an owl was almost too present, and if it wasn't for your thoughts you were sure you could've heard the television from your upstairs neighbor. you shook your head and face planted into your pillow, the bed bouncing up and down with the addition of your weight.

were you really worried about the birthday party? is that what was stressing you out?

the more you thought about it, the more it felt like a stupid party wasn't the sole root of your problems.

3 days.

you didn't even hear the sound of eren approaching you, too entranced with what was on your computer screen. when the rough pad of his finger tapped your shoulder you almost jumped out of your skin, your own finger moving quickly to switch tabs, your vision a blur and you not sure what you clicked before your head shot to face him. "eren!"

he put his hands up in mock surrender, glancing between you and your computer screen, intrigue in his green eyes. "what were you looking at?" of course that was the first thing he asked, that was just your luck.

you tapped your hands against the sides of your laptop, letting your gaze dart around the living room while eren waited a response that you were whipping up in your head. "a watch i'm gonna buy... for me."

"can i see it?" you almost rolled your eyes at how inconvenient that question was. your hand went to your mousepad, scrolling over to exit out of the tab, before looking back at eren. he narrowed his eyes as he literally watched you close out the tab in front of his face.

"no." your response was awkward— scratch that, the whole moment was awkward. "uh, what's up?" you shut your laptop as eren rounded the couch to come sit next to you. the weight of his body shifted you a bit, and his presence so close to you made you tense up slightly. his arm swinging over the back of the couch didn't help you either.

"didn't see you at all yesterday. when i woke up i checked your room and you were sleep." he checked on you? your heart practically skipped a beat at the simple sentence. you saw him almost everyday and have lived with him for almost a year now— why did he rack your nerves so much?

"yeah... i knocked out when i got home, but you were sleep when i got back anyways."

"where were you for so long?" genuine curiosity was present in his voice. "i was pretty bored here by myself, you know." his head tilted back to rest against the couch, his eyes still looking down at you as he let out an exaggerated breath.

you gave eren an uneven smile and crossed your arms. "with armin," you almost did a double take when eren's smile dropped.

"you left me to go to armin's house?"

"...i didn't think you wanted to come!" your voice came off defensive, and you quickly lowered it the nearer your sentence came to an end.

eren squinted his eyes at you, if looks could talk his would be calling you an idiot. he brought his head off the couch and leaned forward. any closer and he would be able to hear your heart thrumming in your chest. "you didn't think i wanted to come to armin and mikasa's house... you know, my childhood friends?"

when eren repeated your words back to you they did sound pretty dumb. you frowned, not sure if you were frowning at the boy in front of you or the stupidity of your sentence. your words tangled in your throat as they tried to form, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. eren leaned back, and you felt yourself gain control again, your heart quieting. "it was a last minute thing, i had to go to grab some notes from him and we got carried away."

"you and armin don—"

"mikasa! grab some notes from mikasa. calculus... calculus notes."

almost on cue, your phone buzzed from between the couch cushion beside you and your hand fumbled to find it, pulling it up once your phone was in between your fingers. you turned your phone up right, the blue light shining on your face as you read the small segment of the message hitch sent you. your finger swiped and your thumb unlocked your phone as you read the remainder of the text.

march 27th, 2:53pm

⤷ finished studying. you can be on your way!!!

⤷ i'll be omw in like 10

you looked back up to eren, his eyes already rested on your face. when you stood up from the couch, he still watched you as you maneuvered around the small space of the apartment clumsily. "i'm gonna be on my way to hitch's." you told him, grabbing your keys from the kitchen table and slipping on your crocs that were under it.

"you didn't have enough fun with armin yesterday?" when your head turned to look at him, his was giving you a bored stare, head hanging backwards over the couch, the flyaways around his face pointing towards the ground.

you stiffened at his statement, but nevertheless continued to move, your jacket coming over your arms and your phone slipping into the pocket of your sweats. "grabbing notes isn't fun, i won't be at hitch's for long either. you'll probably be home when i get back."

he pushed off the couch, taking long strides towards you with his hands buried in his own pockets. when he was but a few feet away, he stopped, and your eyes washed over his body. black t-shirt clinging to his skin and the band of his boxers playing peek-a-boo from where they sat a little above his sweatpants. when you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up the door was being held open for you, eren trying to suppress his small smile. "nope, probably gonna go hang out with someone."

"who?"

"you don't know her."

"oh..." you tucked your lip in between your teeth and opened the door wider for yourself. "okay, see you." and when the door shut behind you it somewhat startled you, and the walk to your car felt a little longer than usual.

the drive to campus felt a little longer than usual too.

when you did arrive the walk to her dorm was like expected, you made your way through the hallways, up the steps until you were standing in front of her dorm. your hand rapped her door a few times, a "hold on!" being yelled out to you once you stopped.

typical, the sound of rustling was coming from the other side and you heard her footsteps come closer until the door swung open. "here, here." she huffed out, opening up the door more so you could slip past her and into her room.

right off the bat you knew which side was hers— not that it wasn't your first time, just that she made it painfully obvious.

her clothes were scattered across the floor, and it was almost as if an invisible line was dividing her and her roommates side. a stack of papers and books on top of her desk, light from the lamp behind it struggling to shine through the stack. the other side of the desk looking pristine and neat— if you swiped your finger over top there wouldn't be a trace of dust. posters adorned above her bed as well as a small tapestry. "i see you tried to clean up before i got here."

"something like that," she waved you off, shutting the door behind her and rushing over to her bed to throw a couple pillows down then hopping up on it, patting the space beside her. "you know, i got some of the information down for the flier, i made it look pretty and shit last night i just need you to tell me a few more things."

you slipped off your shoes and hopped onto her bed as well, scooting back and pulling your knees to your chest as she scrolled through her phone.

"look," the device was shoved in your face, making you blink a few times as you waited for the screen to steady, a sage green flier with many small words looking back at you.

your hand wrapped around the phone, and hitch let go to watch your face. "you like?"

"happy birthday eren!" was big and bold dark green lettering, the title for the flier, while an old picture of eren sat to the side that made you let out a snort. beside it was the date and time for the event, as well as armin's address spanning across the middle of the flier from one end of it to the other. your eyes went back to the photo, but before you could get a good look at it hitch abruptly grabbed the phone back. "you don't like it?" a frown was on her face, and she inspected the image on her phone. "different color? is that what it is?"

you pursed your lips and leaned back against her wall. "i didn't say that— and the color is fine..." you stared at your knees as you remembered one of the first times you went into eren's room while he was sick. a tattered dark green cover was draped over his body and when you had pushed him about the condition of the cover— frayed ends and a few small holes here and there, he had told you it was an old gift from his mom and that he liked the color.

"hey," when you looked back up to hitch she wasn't to your side anymore, instead seated criss cross in front of you, hands in her lap and her phone discarded to her side. "what's up?"

you gave her a questioning glance before fiddling with your fingers that were propped up on your knees. there was nothing up with you— could you not do a little thinking? "nothing?"

"girl, please," she looked to her phone, it isolated on top of her sheets the green flier being the centerpiece of the screen. her fingers went to press the power button until the device went black, and your eyes couldn't be on it anymore, forced to give your attention to hitch. "is it about eren? you seemed to really like the picture of him on my phone, even though i stole that from our high school yearbook. he looks off with short hair doesn't he?"

come on— you couldn't possibly get any more predictable than this. "i was just thinking about his favorite color." which wasn't a lie, you were, your thinking just happened to go deeper than just his favorite color.

"you cannot lie to save your life..." hitch threw her head back as she began to laugh at you, her short hair bobbing on her shoulders as her hand came up to cover her mouth while her laughs died down. "favorite color my ass. what is up for real?" hitch knew you liked eren, they practically all did... except for eren himself.

your head fell into the space created between your knees and chest, and you groaned. "i don't even know myself. he just, he just—" a sound of frustration left your mouth, but was muffled by your legs. "i want this to go well for him." you picked your head up, but you weren't satisfied with your answer. by the way hitch looked at you, you could tell she wasn't either.

"keep going, i'm still listening." hitch's head nodded slowly, a reassuring nod— telling you it was okay to keep speaking, her ears were open to hear you out.

"i want this party to go well for him, of course i do; but after today i feel so dumb for putting so much time into it. maybe i'm overthinking it but i told eren i hung out with armin and he told me he was going to hang out with some girl i didn't know, and it just... i guess rubbed me wrong— so now i feel like i'm putting all my time into this for him and it'll kind of just mean nothing, all my time into planning this party that i feel like is stupid. i feel stupid."

it was like a dam broke, your words had flooded out, and you had said more than you wanted to, yet it still wasn't enough. hitch was satisfied— but you? you were not.

she grabbed some of your hair, pulling your head up by it. surprise danced across her features, surprised to see you weren't weeping, albeit your voice sounding shaky when you spoke. "i haven't seen eren pull anybody ever since we were in high school together, i doubt he all of a sudden has a girl or whatever." she gave you a half smile, hands coming up to grab yours, and your legs slid down into a criss cross position as well.

"plus the party isn't stupid and you're not stupid. it's not about how you feel about eren, it's about giving him and us a good time for his birthday. did you forget that it's for his birthday? shit, if you don't wanna plan it, i will— admissions gonna equal a bottle of booze." her chuckle was contagious and your lips couldn't help but upturn as you let one out too.

"listen, whenever i have a crush on someone i just go for it, you know? just tell him. maybe he was just trying to get you jealous or something." she shrugged her shoulders, while she played with your hands that were enveloped in hers.

"we live together, i don't wanna make it weird."

'it'll only be weird if he says no."

"which is a big possibility."

hitch glanced off to the side before letting her eyes settle on you again, her lips shifting as she looked for what to say. "um... but he could say yes too. you won't know if you don't ask. if you're not willing to move forward and take the risk you don't like him that much. if he says no eventually the two of you will go back to normal anyways." you did like him that much, you were just an anxious mess. especially when he was around; which was quite ironic considering you spent most of your time around him.

you let hitch's words sink into your flesh as you stared at her thumb smoothing over the soft skin of your hand. she wasn't totally wrong, you wouldn't know unless you asked, and nothing would really happen until you asked either.

"do what you will with that information." hitch cleared her throat, letting go of your hands and shuffling to sit beside you, grabbing her phone on the way, then turning around to sit her back against the wall as well. a thick silence fell over the two of you, and if it wasn't for how close both of you were it would've been awkward— for you, it was you and your thoughts talking, but for hitch?

"so... who are we inviting again?"

2 days.

"what do you think of these?" you flipped over the packet of balloons examining the details scribbled on the back, waiting for a response— but to no avail. you didn't receive one.

you turned around, expecting to see a nest of ash brown hair hovering over you as well as doe hazel eyes, but jean and connie were nowhere to be found. a groan of annoyance left your lips and you slipped the packet of balloons into the shopping basket that was hooked around your arm. "i guess these will do."

today felt slow, no progress felt like it was made albeit you running around a family dollar looking for simple birthday decorations, while your friends ran around looking for only God knows what.

you weren't sure if it was because this task was somewhat easy, or maybe because in a couple hours you'd be returning to your shared apartment with eren, continuing to sneak around as if you weren't planning an event. continuing to have to ignore his questions when you'd come in a little later than you usually do, because if you had said you were hanging out with one of your mutual friends he'd look at you funny— ask why you didn't take him with you.

he wasn't wrong, his friends were his friends before they were yours; he is the one who introduced you to them, you all of a sudden devising your own plans with them and seemingly having the time of your lives while he sat back at home of course rubbed him weird.

he didn't question you too much though.

he knew his birthday was coming up— he might be dense but he wasn't completely stupid. although he had no direct hint to you planning anything for him, his friends planning anything for him, the lack of mention of his birthday being soon was almost alarming. he hoped your running around without him had at least a little to do with his birthday.

and for that you thanked him, because besides your little crush on him, the whole mess surrounding his birthday made your stomach churn, having to keep something from him for so long racked your nerves and made it even harder to be around him just in case something accidentally slipped.

you dragged your feet to the isle next to you, peering down it to see the two boys you were looking for, jean and connie. you noticed them before they noticed you, connie's hands grabbing at something and throwing it in the basket in jean's hands. "guys," you said loud enough for them to hear, both of their heads whipping to look to you.

both of them slowly made their way towards you until you met in the middle of the aisle, your arm crossed and your lips pursed. "looking for decorations was fun by myself." your tone was sarcastic, and connie caught on nose scrunching at your comment, his hand coming out to pat your shoulder.

"listen, listen— i was getting eren's birthday present!" he replied, giving you a crooked smile.

your eyes darted between connie, jean and the small basket in his hands, dumbfounded. were you missing something? you didn't see a "birthday present" anywhere. you glanced back up to connie, confusion littered on your face. "where?"

connie's smile dropped, quickly turning into a frown and jean let out a short chuckle, connie glaring at him. he pointed towards the basket, then grabbing it and tilting it towards you. "snacks, and candy and shit. who doesn't like snacks?"

you looked into the basket, and inside was an arrangement of snacks— none that you could remember eren eating, maybe besides the flimsy bag of potato chips and sour gummy worms. "it's the thought that counts." you mumbled mostly to yourself, but both the boys in front of you heard, connie rolling his eyes and letting go of the basket.

it was ironic, because if it was just the thought that counted to you maybe you wouldn't be stressing so much over the party you were in the midst of planning. you wish you could take your own advice, and maybe be like connie and do something simple for eren without beating yourself up too much.

"shut up— we need to get a bag for it." connie mutters, but you knew he wasn't genuinely upset, he could care less what you thought of his present. if it was something he enjoyed it was most likely eren would enjoy it too. at least that's what he told himself.

"we need to get everything else for the party too— you guys left me when i was looking for balloons." your hands flew out from your sides, clearly exasperated with their lack of care for stranding in you in the isle over without a word.

"we didn't leave you, we just went an aisle over to get his gift."

"so you left me?" connie's eyes slide over to jean, who walked past the two of you, clearly trying to leave the store as soon as possible, or maybe dissociate himself from the small ruckus you were creating in the middle of the store.

"technically, no..." he murmured, walking past you as well, and you brought your hand to your forehead before speeding up your pace to catch up to jean, walking beside him instead of behind with connie.

the three of you walked in silence until you reached the decorations aisle, fingers brushing over the arrangement of decor, but you were mainly focused on the miscellaneous decorations, party streamers, tissues, table covers, and much more you couldn't name.

"jean?" he looked down at you, standing next to your figure who was crouched on the floor to be head on with the decorations seated on the small bottom shelf.

"what's up?"

you picked up two packs of table covers, in each of your hands, standing up and examining both packages, the only difference being the colors. "which one?"

jean took the white pack from your hands, turning it over then grabbing the dark green pack from your hands and looking it over as well. "they're both nice to me." he shrugged. he didn't see why the color of the table covers, or any decoration mattered so much. like you he knew eren wasn't too picky, yet you still continued to try to perfect every aspect of this party.

"well, which one do you think eren would like?"

jean furrowed his eyebrows at you, dropping both packages into the basket in your hands opposed to his— although he was helping with the party he wouldn't be paying for anything he didn't need to. "eren wouldn't care, _____."

you sighed, eyes drifting down to the new contents of your basket. "yeah, but—"

"just get both, and decide when we go there, he'll like either."

you fiddled with your hands, nodding your head and walking past jean to the party streamers— you didn't ask for his opinion, reckoning you'd get the same answer, so you slipped both the white streamer paper and dark green into your basket, making your way towards connie who was plucking a small paper bag from the rack.

"i'm gonna put it in this bag." connie said as soon as you had stopped in front of him, shoving the bag in your face, your hands coming up to lower it so you could see it more clearly. it was nice, a small blue bag with "happy birthday" sprawled on the front, in sparkly letters, and you smiled at connie who pulled it away from you.

"that's nice, i should get a bag too for his present shouldn't i?"

"well you're not putting it in a box are you?" you shook your head, it'd be better to put it in a little birthday bag then having to spend time wrapping it, so you stood in connie's place who moved aside to let you take a look at the arrangement of bags.

there were so many, but a pretty white one caught your eye, it was simple, happy birthday written in small text on the front in black, a period ending the short statement. the paper bag had two black ribbon handles that were rough to the touch when you had pulled it off its rack. "this is nice too, right?"

connie looked to the bag in your hand, nodding his head. of course he'd think it's nice, he wasn't like you— it made no difference from the bag in his hand. they were both made out of paper and both could complete the same job. you wished to have that mindset. "yeah, what did you get eren for his birthday?"

your eyes widened slightly, you were somewhat surprised he asked— or maybe surprised that he was the first to ask. you took pride in the gift you had bought him when others asked or when you had explained what it was to mikasa, but when it came to eren you were a little nervous to know if he'd like it or not. "just this custom watch, i thought it would be thoughtful."

jean came up behind connie, connie placing his bag into jean's basket. "yeah, i think he'd like it, i mean— i don't wear watches but i'd wear it once or twice."

you narrowed your eyes, scoffing at connie. "well good thing the watch isn't for you, let's go." connie shrugged his shoulders, and you went to grab paper plates and cups, even party hats just for the gag of it, soon enough making your way to the check out and buying all the supplies. your total was higher than you expected, and you blamed your indecisiveness, yet you would still buy whatever was needed for the party at hand.

the three of you loaded into jean's car, you placing the bags beside you and your phone buzzing. you pulled it out of your pocket to check the notification, a message from eren. you swiped left, having to swipe a couple times because of how fast you attempted to open the message. it was rare he texted you when you were out, especially when he knew you were out.

march 28th, 4:47pm

⤷ [attachment 1 image]

⤷  your package? where do you want me to leave it?

you knew right off the bat what it was, the watch you had just told connie about. when you had last checked the shipping date it wasn't scheduled to come today— it was one day early.

march 28th, 4:48pm

⤷ put it in my room, thanks

⤷ okay

you had dropped your phone into your lap, looking out to the window but it buzzed again, and you scrambled to pick it up once more.

march 28th, 4:53pm

⤷ wya?

⤷ in the car, i'll be home soon.

"can you guys take me home first, actually? we can take the stuff to armin's house the day before eren's party." you leaned forward so jean who was driving, could hear you, his head turning slightly as he listened.

"why?" your phone buzzed again, and just like that you forgot about the conversation at hand, diving to pick up your phone, eager to see what eren had sent now.

march 28th, 4:55pm

⤷ your car is here

⤷ oh, you're with who?

⤷ jean and connie

"i just want to go home for now, it'd be easier if we just brought everything over there when we go decorate." and even though jean disagreed, he began the route to your place instead, deciding not push any further.

although your phone didn't alert you that you got another notification, you went to go check anyways, grasping the device in your hand as you went back to you and eren's messages.

read, 4:55pm

you didn't even realize the small frown that was painted on your face, you placing your phone back into the pocket of your jacket, settling down into the seat you were sat on.

"yeah, take me home first."

1 day.

"how's this?" sasha tilted the bowl of frosting towards you, and you took a glance, the frosting a pretty shade of green, much like the flier hitch showed you two days before.

you nodded your head, "yeah, that color works.", and your friend smiled, spinning on her foot to place down the bowl of frosting beside the one of icing. she seemed more excited then you about the making of the cake. not to say you weren't excited, but it was more accurate to say you were highly strung about how it would turn out— more than you should have been.

"nico, grab the cake, i think it's chilled long enough." she dipped her finger into the bowl of frosting, putting it up to her lips and humming at the taste. "oh, yeah, that's good. eren better like this!" and you hoped he would too.

you tsked, grabbing the bowl and moving it over so niccollo could place the cake on the counter next to it. "what design are you thinking?" he asked, arm draping over sasha's shoulder as the two of them stood in front of you. although they didn't date you couldn't help but find them cute. you wondered if sasha or niccollo were in the same dilemma as you— only it seemed that their feelings were reciprocated opposed to you and eren.

you pondered for a second, recalling what you had thought up a couple nights ago. it was simple, "pipe the edges with one of those swirly tips, with the white icing, and.. write happy birthday in the middle. small letters." the small letters were somewhat of an improvisation, it reminded you of the small letters on the front of the gift bag you had got for eren.

as you spoke, sasha moved to grab the pipe tips and piping bags, as well as a spatula, placing the utensils down onto the surface next to the frosting. "i can see that in my head— it's gonna be so good, it's gonna look so good." she glanced up at niccollo, and he was already looking at her, a small smile on his face. "can i frost?"

"...you can frost with the green, i'll do the white; the piping and the words."

sasha beamed, clearly happy with whatever she could get, and she grabbed the spatula, scooping up some frosting and beginning to spread it across the cake. she smoothed the thick coat over the swirl cake, trying her best to cover the top, and you could already envision what it would look like in your head, and it wasn't bad. sasha wouldn't dare for it to look bad with how ecstatic she was to be making it, and you were sure niccollo wouldn't either.

it was mainly your idea, and niccollo and sasha would bring it to life. you would hope eren would like it as much as how much you liked the image of it in your head. "so what did you guys buy for snacks?"

niccollo made his way over to the sink, washing his hands before flinging them so water droplets flew in the sink. "well we bought the basic stuff, chips for the guac, candy for the bowls, and some drinks, plus beer at your friend hitch's request."

you laughed, hitch wouldn't be the only one enjoying it, the lot of you guys liked to drink. you knew eren would be appreciative at the gesture. "it probably wasn't just hitch who wanted it." you watched the blonde dry his hands, leaning against the sink counter. "so you're gonna make the guac, the guac for the chips?"

he nodded his head. "oh, yeah of course. i just can't make it today, i'll make it at... armin, armin's house?" his response was a question, and you nodded as well, letting him know he was thinking of the right person. "yeah, sash will get the stuff and i'll make it that day so it can be fresh."

"okay, that's good. are you gonna come to the party too?" you didn't know him personally, only having met him through sasha who you didn't know how she met him. she had seemed to have taken a liking to him, and you just followed through. after all like you said, they were cute, you wouldn't be surprised when sasha would break the news to you.

"no, i have work that day... i'll be there beforehand to help sasha and you, and everyone set up, if it helps."

"no, yeah— it'd be a lot of help." you gave him a small smile, sliding over more towards sasha to check on the cake. "so, out of curiosity; how did the two of you meet?"

sasha grinned at the question, grabbing some more frosting with the spatula and slapping it onto the side of the cake. she didn't give niccollo time to answer, mouth opening to do so for him. "culinary class! he's so fucking good at cooking, like how?" she tilted her head back to direct the grin on her face at him, and he gave her one back.

"yeah, sasha's not too bad herself either. how did you and sasha meet?" his words sounded like an understatement and you chuckled.

but you and sasha meeting? it wasn't much of a story to tell. "oh, just through eren at the beginning of last semester."

"eren? the birthday boy?"

"yeah, birthday boy... he introduced me to all of them really, nothing special." you shifted on your feet, hands coming together so you could play with your nails, looking down at your hands.

"tell me about you and birthday boy— how did the two of you meet?" you didn't know someone could ask so many questions, but it wasn't like you didn't ignite the conversation to save from the silence.

sasha's shoulders bounced as she laughed softly, and although you couldn't see her, her still smoothing away at the almost completely green cake, you glared at her.

"he's my roommate. i needed one and he needed one, and you know how that goes."

niccollo raised a brow. he clearly caught onto the way you tried to brush the topic off too fast, but so did sasha despite her being occupied. wasn't he majoring in culinary arts? not psychology— there was no reason for him to read you that fast. "and how does that go, _____?" sasha titters and you could tell she was smiling from the tone of her voice.

"fine." you were blunt, your voice montone apart from the small falter at the end of your sentence. "it's cool, having a roommate, he's nice and fun to have around."

sasha's expression mimicked niccollo's, her arms crossing and her brow going up before she walked over to the sink and began to wash the spatula, the water somewhat saving you from the awkward silence, the same one you had tried to stop earlier. sasha broke it though, and in the worst way she could.

"she likes him."

your hand slapped your forehead, and you let out an exasperated groan, both sasha and niccollo laughing at you, but sasha must've felt somewhat bad, a pout on her face as she came over to pull you into a tight hug. "sorry, but you weren't gonna say it and it's kind of obvious."

"well you didn't have to say it out loud." you didn't hug her back, one hand sliding down your face, and the other hanging at your side.

"well how else would nico know?"

"he doesn't."

nicollo took over sasha's place at the counter, not phased by your reluctance to tell him. he tidied up her small mistakes when she was frosting the cake. "sash, can you fill the piping bags?" sasha pranced over to the piping bags after letting go of you and her hands grabbed them, placing the tip on the bags and then rummaging the drawer for a spare spatula, using it to scoop up some of the the white icing and stuff it into the utensil. "so you like him?"

you sighed. she didn't have to repeat it, but still you nodded your head, and then realizing he couldn't see you. "...yeah."

"she won't tell him though." sasha added, dipping another finger into the icing and sucking it off her finger once more. did she have to reveal everything? "i don't see why, if it was me i'd just tell him, what's the worst that could happen."

your eyes glanced between sasha and niccollo.

that was ironic.

"just tell him, who knows, he could like you back." the conversation sounded too familiar, and you rolled your eyes, why did everyone think this was such an easy feat? niccollo leaned towards the cake, icing squeezing out of the pipe creating an intricate swirl that was being detailed around the circumference of the cake.

you folded your arms against the counter you were leaning against, and let out a huff of breath. "it's not that easy. we're roommates, things will be awkward." and you felt like you were repeating yourself— is this what people called deja vu?

"i think eren might like her back." sasha moved the bowl of white icing onto the other side of niccollo and hopped onto the counter beside him, placing the other bowl in her lap, fingers tapping against the sides.

"why?" you were curious, you didn't think anything hinted that he could like you, especially not with the encounter you had with him when you were leaving for hitch's.

"i don't know," she shrugged. "when you guys first moved in together he would always talk about his," she mimicked his voice, "new roommate."

you blinked, then blinked again, arms unfolding and you picking yourself up from the surface you were leaning against. eren talking about you? you wanted to hear more. "that's it?"

another shrug, and another scoop of frosting. "i mean, he talks about you in general too."

"what does he say?"

sasha squinted at you, shaking her head. "i said in general," and her hands went up into quotations, "me and ______ are going to do this, last night me and ______ did this, shit like that."

your stomach twisted, and your legs felt a little wobbly. you cleared your throat, and you wanted to speak but you were a little bit in... shock? but niccollo spoke instead, "i finished."

sasha made a small noise of joy, hopping off the counter she was seated on and pushing over the bowl of frosting, peeking around niccollo to see the cake.

you padded over, standing next to sasha to see the cake as well; and it was pretty.

swirls danced across the edge of the cake, the white contrasting the soft green that was painted over the it and smoothed over almost perfectly. in simple bold letters, "happy birthday, eren." detailed the center, a small heart added to the end.

"it's nice... i really like it, yeah, this is what it looked like in my head." and you weren't lying, it almost was like a carbon copy of what you envisioned, and you were almost surprised at how well niccollo and sasha pulled it off, not that you should be, you did ask for help of two culinary art students. "thank you, thanks so much."

your face was lit up, and sasha and niccollo gleamed smiles at you, delighted that you were happy. being able to make you happy seemed to be enough for them. "glad you like it," he said, and you pulled out your phone to snap a quick picture, pressing the device to your chest. "i added the heart for you."

your eyes rolled back but you couldn't help but chuckle, another "thank you" leaving your lips and your eyes not leaving the cake, even when he went to put it in the refrigerator. once the cake wasn't in your line of sight anymore, that nervous feeling returned out of nowhere, for no reason, and your hands felt sweaty, phone almost slipping from where it was pressed between your chest and hand.

sasha caught on, grabbing your other hand and letting her fingers fall between yours, hands clasped together, and she was radiating solace, sucking up your worries and dispelling them for you.

"he'll like it."

"you sure?"

"of course! i'm sure."

happy birthday, eren.

it wasn't a normal occurrence for you to cook eren breakfast— as a matter of fact you couldn't recall ever cooking breakfast for him.

making dinner? yeah! there were plenty of times the two of you twirled around the kitchen, bodies bumping and fits of giggles bouncing around the small space, while you muttered "sorry!" to each other every now and then.

for now, it was just you.

eren hadn't woken up yet, and so to do him a birthday favor you decided to make him a birthday meal.

you flipped the pancakes cooking on the stove, sauntering over to the fridge and pulling out the package of bacon and plopping in onto the top of the counter. you felt like you had been in the kitchen at least every day now, and you couldn't remember the last time you had actually sat down to participate in one of your hobbies, or to relax. you sure were taking this upcoming event seriously, and you were glad your friend were too.

your fingers tapped against the steel of the fridge handle as your eyes skimmed the contents of the refrigerator; you felt like it wasn't enough, there was nothing special to you about some flimsy pancakes and bacon, so you grasped the carton of eggs and closed one of the fridge doors, leaning towards the side to plop them next to the bacon.

when you turned back around to close the other door, there eren stood, you practically jolting out your skin. "jesus!" you all but screamed, your hand flying to your chest and you stumbling backwards at his abrupt appearance. "eren!"

he chuckled, closing the fridge door for you and stepping forward to stand in its place. "g'morning." his voice was still groggy with sleep, and he still looked sleepy— his eyes still swollen from it, hair messily framing his face. his hair tie must've fell out while he tossed and turned.

your hand fell from your chest and dropped down to your side, tugging your shirt lower and fumbling with the fabric while your eyes glanced around the small kitchen. "morning."

"just morning? aren't you forgetting something?" you gave him a crooked smile, and he stepped forward until his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your frame against his until you were engaged in a hug, minus the fact that your arms were still awkwardly against your sides.

your body began heating up and you felt like you lost control of yourself for a minute, hands taking a bit too long to wrap around eren as well. it was nice, he felt warm, and he brang a sense of comfort, so you relaxed against him a little more. heck, you didn't need time to sit down and relax or do a hobby when you had eren. he was enough to give you a break, just being around him was enough.

"happy birthday." your voice was merely above a whisper, but he heard it— a hum that could be heard through his chest, where your head laid.

"thank you," he said audibly, pulling you away, and you wished the hug could last for a little longer, hesitantly pulling back too and letting your hands smooth over the sudden goosebumps on your arms from the air of the room. "your pancake."

you quirked a brow at him, until your eyes followed his finger, the pancake on the stove that had been there longer than it should have, and you scrambled over in realization, eyes going wide as you fumbled for the spatula, slipping it under the pancake and flipping it over to check the underside. it wasn't burnt— the underside was just a little browner than it should have been. your free hand brought the plate next to the stove closer and slipped the pancake off the pan onto the plate.

"what woke you up?" you asked, as your hands went to grab the bacon and an extra bowl, turning down the heat of the stove and moving to strip the bacon from its packet, setting them down on the pan.

"the smell of your cooking." he smiled, arms crossed from where he leaned against the fridge. he slinked over, until he was behind you, peering down as you placed the last strip of bacon on the steel pan. "who's the breakfast for? me?"

you let out a small laugh, cracking two eggs in a bowl and eren followed along as you moved to the counter, then to the spice rack, grabbing two small spice jars and sliding back to your bowl. "yeah, actually. it's your birthday, right?"

"yeah." he moved over to the fridge, grabbing the bag of cheese and throwing it down onto the counter you were working at. "i like cheese in my eggs." you shook your head but your hands still moved to grab the bag, fingers pulling the seal open and your hand dipping into the bag to sprinkle some into eren's eggs. it was his day after all.

you didn't even realize he had moved from behind you until you heard the sizzle of the bacon on the pan, his hand setting down the spatula, and only then did you realize he had flipped them for you— his head turning towards you to watch you make the eggs, you whisking at the mixture. "thank you." you said softly, eyes lingering on his curious expression before turning back to the eggs. "anything you doing for your birthday?"

it was funny, how you asked that as if you and his friends didn't plan out a whole event for him alone.

he shook his head, as you expected and you couldn't help but let a smile creep on your face as you walked over to the stove, checking on the bacon, and eren taking your spot near the eggs. he slowly began whisking at the mixture despite them already being mixed. it was a domestic feeling, one that you felt before yet it still felt fresh, still felt new and it still made you want to live in moments like these forever.

"nah, you wanna do something with me?"

your lip twitches, and you place the bacon next to the stack of pancakes. the oil drifts to the side as you lean the pan and simply stare for a few minutes, before going to the sink and dumping it. you wiped the side of the pan and spread oil onto it before placing the bottle of oil down and reaching your hand out for eren to pass you the eggs.

he does, his fingertips sliding over yours as he passes it along, and you pour it into the pan, then turning to drop the bowl in the sink. "omelette or scrambled? and you wanna go to armin's later today?"

he scoffed, fingers drumming on the now empty counter he was leaning against, like he was in disbelief that you wanted to go there again; and it seemed that way from his next sentence, him practically bringing your thoughts to life. "scrambled, and you wanna go there again, you've been there like twice this week? what's at armin's?"

the spatula flipped in your hand, and you frowned at eren. "nothing, we should just go there for a get together— it's your birthday after all." your gaze shifted to the plate of food. "can you get another plate for me?"

although eren didn't answer, the sound of plates clinking as he reached for another plate, and the closing of a cabinet told you he complied. he placed it beside the other plate, sliding two pancakes onto it, including the almost burnt one. "two pancakes on your plate?"

and you nodded your head, "no bacon." you scraped some of the eggs onto eren's plate and scraped the remainder onto yours— you weren't too hungry, but you wanted to eat with him, so you made yourself a little too. "so can we go?"

eren's eyes followed you to the sink, where you placed the pan down, the steam rising from the water hitting the hot pan much like the steam rising from the eggs. you came back over beside him, hand patting his side lightly to signal him to move over a little so you could open the utensils drawer. his answer was reluctant, but you didn't think it was necessarily because he didn't want to go— you weren't sure what it was. "i guess, what time?"

you grabbed two forks and two spoons, placing them onto each plate and clasping your hands together, in content at not only the two full plates (if you'd consider yours full), but also at the confirmation from eren next to you. "like... seven? i'm gonna leave earlier though... i have some errands to do."

eren raised a brow, but shook you off, as if he just accepted you running around the usual now. he grabbed his plate and you grabbed the syrup before following behind him until both of you were sat at the dining room table. he couldn't help but still question where you were going though. "what errands?"

you repressed yourself from rolling your eyes, sliding the syrup across the glass table until eren's hands were wrapped around it, popping the top open and drizzling the sticky liquid over his pancakes. "i'm just gonna run to the store real quick, we'll meet up at armin's place."

eren once again didn't respond, pushing the syrup back towards you and poking at his pancake.

with a small sigh you slipped your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it, pressing a few buttons until you and armin's messages were open. your fingers danced around the screen until you began typing.

march 29th, 12:34pm

⤷ i might have to come a little later than i wanted to, spend some time with eren

⤷ ok, i'll text them to come earlier!

⤷ tysm, i'll probably come around 5

you placed your phone down on the table face down. you were somewhat surprised by armin's response time, but you were grateful nonetheless. you'd spend a little more time with eren, it wasn't a big of a deal, not even the small feeling of nervousness that came back was a big deal. with how well everything was going you were sure they could deal without your for a few extra hours.

when you looked up, eren's palm was holding his head up, as his other hand cut the pancake in front of him, a small pout on his face. you almost felt bad, if in the back of your head the surprise party didn't linger you probably would have felt bad. you gave a weak smile, and tapped the glass table to catch eren's attention. "eren,"

"hm?"

"happy birthday."

a few hours.

a few hours until eren's party, a few more hours of planning, few more hours of jittery feelings and sneaking around eren.

maybe a few more hours of questions, questions from eren, questions from your friends, questions for your friends.

"armin, pass me that last streamer."

armin took one of the white streamers from the table next to you, placing tape on the tip and you stepped down from the chair you were standing on to grab it. once you taped it your hand swam through all the streamers that were adorning the wall. they had came down from the ceiling, connected to the wall and then came down like a waterfall, a jade green, light green and white patterned across the wall.

"does it look good?" you asked armin, and his hands went to touch the streamers as well while he nod, surprised at how well you pulled off the design. hitch didn't seem to be the only creative one in the friend group.

"of course, of course, it looks really nice, it's creative too."

as you were about to respond, the pop of a balloon made you and armin flinch, both of your necks snapping towards the sound, connie and sasha both standing their frozen, the remnants of a balloon in connie's hand, sasha holding back her laughs.

stepping down from the chair, you sighed, and armin pat your shoulder. "i'll go help them with the balloons, don't worry." he stepped away, heading towards the living room to do just as he said.

you made your way towards the kitchen, deciding to check on the progress in there, mikasa cutting up tomatoes for the guac that niccollo was preparing, her hands moving flawlessly as she chopped away. "want to help?" she asked, not even looking up to see who walked in.

you had nothing better to do, everyone occupied with one or more aspects of the decrorating, so you said a "yeah," and she dropped the knife, placing another tomato down and grabbing an onion and another knife to begin chopping beside you. "how is it going out there?"

"out there" wasn't too far, you looked over your shoulder and armin, sasha, and connie were arranging the balloons, tying them with ribbon and letting some stray ones float. "they're doing good, i think, thanks for helping with the food."

"no worries." she continued to slice at the onion, but something else was itching her, and she couldn't help but ask. "how did you get eren to not follow you here?"

"'was hard, i hung out with him for a little longer, that's why i was late... and i told him i was running errands." you and eren didn't do much when you were with him, yet you still had fun, even though it was something as simple as chilling on the couch and watch television together. like you thought earlier, eren's presence was enough.

mikasa's head shook, scooping up the onions and placing them in the bowl where niccollo was working, squeezing a lime into the mashed avocado. "didn't take you as a liar," she joked. "what time is he coming?"

you shrugged, eyes glancing to niccollo who was mixing together the guac, then trailing to the grocery bag beside it. "probably around seven like i asked, i don't know. can you grab me some big bowls?"

mikasa went to grab a large clear bowl, placing it down beside you gently. "here," she handed you the bowl, a section in the middle for the guacamole.

"do you think he knows we're planning his surprise party?"

"he might have an idea about it." mikasa replied. "but not a big one, the other day he called armin asking why we didn't invite him over."

your hand stuttered, and you almost cut your finger while slicing the fruit in front of you. "what did armin say?" eren didn't question you further after you told him you had went over to study, so your lie couldn't have clashed with whatever armin told him.

she took the knife from your hand, using it to slide the tomatoes you cut off the cutting board and into the guac. you pulled the bag of tortilla chips out of the grocery bag and opened it up, pouring it into the clear bowl.

"armin didn't say much, he just said you had passed by and that it was nothing special."

you let out a sigh of relief, moving the chips around then pushing the board towards niccollo. "nicollo, put the guac in the middle when you're done." another bag, and another bowl that you poured the contents into. "when i got home from your house few days ago he asked me why i went without him and i told you i grabbed some calculus notes."

"that's close enough." she grabbed the bowl of tortilla chips once niccollo put the guac in the middle. "i'm gonna put these on the table."

"and i'll put the rest of the snacks in the bowls, you can help out there." niccollo told you, pulling the bowls away from you and ushering you out before you could say anything, his hands on your shoulders moving you to the entrance of the kitchen. you didn't question him, just taking your leave and heading towards the living room, wanting to see how the others were doing.

the decorations were coming together, balloons creating an arch around the television set, "happy birthday" letters connecting from one end of the wall to the other, hanging over armin and connie's head, and more balloons connecting together on either side of sasha and jean who were sat sitting on the couch.

it was beautiful, the greens, silvers, and whites all complimenting each other, from the table cover, to the streamers on the dining room wall, it was all a pretty sight to look at and you were filled with bliss, bliss at the fact that it was working out like you had planned, at the fact that your friends and you could put everything together so well.

"guys, you guys did so good!" you sounded cheery, and they caught on small smiles appearing on their faces at the joy on your face, it seemed seeing you happy made them happy too, just like sasha and niccollo. "i really love it!"

"see, i told you she'd like the arch." armin commented, hand pointing to the arch of balloons. "they wanted to just put balloons everywhere, i thought you'd like it if we made it more uniformed." and he was right, you did love it, it was more than you asked for, more than you expected them to do.

"yeah, no, i love this." you had pulled out your phone, preparing to take a picture but stopping for a moment, looking at the time. it was almost seven, and so you decided to text eren instead.

march 30th, 6:43pm

⤷ you can be on your way soon!!!

"i told him he could be on his way like an hour ago." a red solo cup was in your hand, and you were standing with hitch in the kitchen, her sipping at her own drink. you were getting fidgety, almost an hour had passed and eren wasn't here yet, nor did he respond to the last text you sent him. maybe he forgot?

"maybe he got caught in traffic." hitch shrugged, "i don't think he forgot." it was like she read your mind, but it didn't help to calm you— traffic didn't even sound plausible with how near you and eren's apartment was to armin and mikasa.

"traffic? seriously, we don't live far from here, he would've made it sooner than now."

armin frowned at hitch, "maybe not traffic, but maybe he's still getting ready, you know eren's always a little late places... just relax until he gets here." his hand reached out, palm up. "want me to refill your drink for you?" you knew he was just trying to ease you up, get something in your system and relax you until eren would arrive.

you were about to hand him your drink but then your phone vibrated, the light flashing from beside hitch and she picked it up for you, eyes moving back and forth while your screen illuminated her face, and you tried reaching for it but where she sat on the counter top she could easily pull it out of your reach, and that's exactly what she did, your hand stretching for your phone while she read it from where her arm was above her.

"hitch!"

"it's eren, he says he's here."

your eyes practically popped out your head, and you turned to armin, placing your cup in his hand, the liquid threatening to spill over the edge with how fast you shoved the flimsy cup in his grip, almost crushing it. "be right back!" you said loud, speeding past your friends to leave the kitchen and get to front door.

your heart pounded in your chest as you exit the kitchen, butterflies filling your stomach. you spun around the bodies of people (which was more than you expected hitch to invite) rushing to get to the front door, to get to see eren, to get to show him everything you all put together.

you almost stumbled over your own feet, apologizing to whoever you bumped into but not daring to look back, because the door was right there, and another burst of restlessness filled you when your fingers wrapped around the cold metal knob of the front door,  the air that hit you raised goosebumps on your legs when you swung that same door open.

you rushed out the door and down the steps, almost missing one in the process, but it didn't matter because there he was, those same wispy hairs you knew he never tried to tame even on his birthday still framing his face, blue green eyes steadying on your figure running towards him, and plump lips breaking out into a smile that you never knew you'd be so happy to see.

eren, he was here, after you didn't know how long, and you were happy, you were so happy you didn't stop running, crashing into him and causing him to stumble back, but god the small chuckle, the feeling of his smile against the top of your head was so beautiful, so relieving.

"eren," you pant out, your breath fanning his arm, and you pressed yourself against him more, like he'd disappear if you let go. "eren, you're here."

"i'm here." your eyes squeezed shut at his words, at the feeling of his arms wrapping around your shoulders, letting you get as close to him as possible, your legs in between his and your head pressed against his chest like earlier in the kitchen. you never thought you would be so happy to see a person, and even though all the two of you ever did was hug it felt so new and so fresh.

you felt like you had been hugging him for only seconds, but when he began pulling you off you didn't complain because there was much more to show him, so many more things for you to be nervous to show him, but wanted to show him anyways because only god knows how long these things took to make for him.

"what took you so long?"

he scratched the back of his neck, tongue sliding over his lip as he grabbed your hand, the two of you slowly walking back towards the apartment. "i had fell asleep, sorry, i'm here now— i couldn't have missed much?"

"jesus, eren, i thought you forgot!" you cursed his stupidity. seriously? falling asleep moments before his party? he had you worried he was gonna miss it, and he could've.

"no, no, i didn't forget. being home alone is boring you know, so i took a nap." you looked down. you did leave him alone for a couple hours, on his birthday at that, but what he would see in a couple minutes would hopefully make up for it.

his eyes raked over you. "you look nice... and to think it's my birthday." he smiled, and although the moon was out, little light being casted on the two of you he didn't fail to notice your attire and compliment you, your hand squeezing his a little more.

"thank you," and you did the same, letting your eyes look over him, quirking a brow at his appearance; a sweatshirt that was covering the undershirt that was peeking through his collar, and some simple jeans— so much for it being his day. "yeah, you didn't dress up much, it's your birthday eren."

he began to swing your hands back and forth, not seeming to care much for your comment. "i woke up late, i just threw something on."

a silence washed over the two of you as you made your way up the steps, and you almost didn't want to go inside. you wanted to talk to eren a little longer, have it be just you and him a little longer because you knew he wouldn't be at your side for too long once you returned to the house.

"ready to go inside?' you asked as if he genuinely had a choice, but for some reason you still felt a bit sad when he nod his head, pulling you to the door with him.

your hand twisted the knob of the door, and if only you could've watched eren's face once you swung it open. a roar of "happy birthday, eren!" flooded both of your ears and eren quickly became the main attraction. he was the main attraction, it was his day, his birthday.

his mouth dropped open, eyes widening and eyebrows coming up in shock— no in awe, and it was no longer a "small" birthday party that he had in his head, there were lots of people he could recognize, lot of eyes on him, and pretty shades of green dusting the room. you felt his hand squeeze yours in return, and he almost didn't even notice his closest friends crowding around him.

"eren! happy birthday!" hitch pat his shoulder, beckoning for him to bend down a little bit, a party hat in her hand that matched the one on top of her head. his gaze broke from the room around him to his friends in front of him, and he bent down, hitch snapping the hat onto his head, you giggling at him as he adjusted it, a goofy grin on his face. if it was any other day, he probably would've refused to have such a silly hat on his head.

"yeah, happy birthday." armin said smiling happily to finally see eren, and smiling to not see you worrying anymore about his arrival. mikasa stood beside him saying a small "happy birthday" as well, and eren stepped forward to give both her and armin a hug before stepping back beside you again, his hand never leaving yours as he did so.

"do you like it?" the question was urging you to ask it, and eren looked down at you again, your nail pulling at your lip while you waited his response.

"do i like it?" he pulled you into a hug too, squeezing your shoulder. it was obvious to him, of course he liked it— how could he not? "so you planned this?"

"we all did."

"who's we all?"

you scanned the room, but it was only you, hitch, armin and mikasa standing in front of eren. "well, the four of us and jean, sasha, and connie too. i don't know where they are though, probably the kitchen."

"i love it, i really do, thank you guys so much."

you felt like a weight had been lifted off of you, like you were free from a burden you had placed onto yourself. everyone told you he would love it, and you knew it too. although, the feeling of eren himself telling you was a relief that never felt so good.

"i'm glad, let's go see the others." so eren's hand that was still intertwined with yours had pulled you along, the other three dispersing to do their own thing. small "happy birthdays" were said to eren as he passed people, and he occasionally stopped to greet someone he knew well properly while you stood back waiting patiently for him. hitch did him justice, most if not all the people he did know, even if you didn't, and now would be a great opportunity to get to know some more people but you chose to stay beside him.

when the two of you had entered the small space of the kitchen, sasha was standing with a plate next to connie. "eren, happy birthday!" her voice was muffled by her food, her covering her mouth as she spoke, but you could tell she was elated to see him with the way she perked up at the sight of him.

"yeah, happy birthday dude." connie blew a party horn in eren's face obnoxiously, and eren's face scrunched up, although you knew he didn't mind, as matter of fact probably the complete opposite. he was almost too happy and you could see it in his walk and his face.

"thanks guys, and thank you for planning this all out."

"thank _____ for getting us off our asses and forcing us to plan this shit." connie quipped, and you would've knocked his head straight if you didn't catch the jest to his tone that made you and eren chuckle.

he looked down at you after connie had pinned the party on you again, "so it was you who planned all of this basically. that's why you kept leaving?"

"yeah, i was planning shit out with them— i wasn't trying to leave you or anything." getting that off your chest felt equally as good, and it seemed that eren felt relieved as well, apart from the way his grip finally slipped from your hand.

"good... good, i love this, you did amazing, i appreciate this a lot." no words were enough to explain how much eren really appreciated you, appreciated everything you were doing for him— so all he could do was hope that you knew. "i'm gonna get a drink and look around, okay?"

"i'll be here." but your reply was short lived. instead of staying with connie and sasha you went to find armin for your drink. you needed it to calm the jitters that you were feeling, and you were glad when you caught him chatting with another blonde, who you surprisingly recognized but sadly couldn't recall her name.

"armin, my drink." the red cup still rested between his fingers, and at the sound of your voice he looked up, immediate remorse on his face when he saw yours, then looking down to the cup before passing it your way.

"i'm sorry, i forgot to fill it up." when you looked down into the cup it wasn't full, the liquid from before still swimming in the bottom. it was fine, everyone was occupied, trying to have fun and so you didn't mind, you'd just fill it up on your way to the kitchen, no big deal.

"who's this?" the girl turned to you, eyes bored as she tapped against the cup in her own hand, and armin looked between her and you, perking up. it was a chance to try to socialize, try to make friends, and you tried to take that chance.

"oh! annie, this is _____, she planned this all out, eren's roommate."

"hey!" you gave her a small smile, hand out for her to shake it, and she did, giving your hand a light shake before letting go. she didn't seem too interested in conversation with you, her blue eyes flitting over to armin every once in a while, while her feet kept turned towards him. "i think i've seen you around before, you look familiar."

she looked you over, studying your appearance before coming to the conclusion that she has seen you before. she put her cup to her lips, drinking before responding. "i'm here sometimes— armin's house."

armin next to you let out a nervous laugh, cracking his knuckles while listening to you and annie's conversation. "yeah, you've probably seen her around before, she comes here often."

you shrug, not sure if you had ever seen her at armin's place. although her face was familiar you couldn't really recall who she was, and you blamed your lack of socialization. you'd keep her name in your head, hopefully for future reference. "probably, but nice to meet you anyways."

armin waved, and you waved back before heading back over to the small crowds of people to get to the dining room, a selection of drinks splayed out for anyone to come and grab as they please.

hitch was there, seated on a table chair she pulled out, sliding a soda can towards her to pour in the alcohol that was already in her cup. she only noticed you when you walked over to stand right in front of her, her eyes gazing up at you before averting her attention back to her drink. "couldn't have asked sash to get some better booze?"

your own arms reached over to do just as her, a can of soda in one hand that you poured inside what was already in your cup— it upped the alcohol, and overall tasted funner. "don't think it was sasha who got it." you replied, taking small sips of your drink as if you were taste testing it.

"hm," hitch did the same, taking a swig of her drink before twirling it in the cup, setting it back down on the table in front of her. "i told you he'd come, and that he'd like it. you were stressing for nothing."

"yeah... i guess," you went to grab the chair diagonal from hitch, pulling it out from behind you and plopping yourself down in it. "where is he anyways?"

hitch looked ahead of you as if she was genuinely trying to find eren before looking back to you with a shrug of her shoulders. "not sure, he was over here a couple minutes ago with jean getting a drink." you missed him by a hair, and your shoulder slumped a little lower.

"he was over here?"

"why, you looking for him?"

you sunk down in your seat a bit, your feet tapping together while your fingers pattered against the plastic of your cup. you weren't looking for him per say, you just wanted to be with him, just have another moment with him, see him happy and see him enjoying himself in what you created.

"eren has got you fucked up— you need to, and i cannot stress this enough;" she pointed her cup at you, "just tell him." hitch let out an exaggerated sigh, her scooting down in her seat as well as she drank her drink again.

"hitch, please, i don't think you've understand how many times i have been told that this week, and nobody seems to understand how not easy that is." and you were right, it wasn't easy, there was too many problems that could arise if it backfired. you'd rather pine for eren for the rest of your life if it meant that things would stay natural between the two of you— if what you had going on now stayed.

"or you're just making it harder than it has to be." she had a challenging look in her eyes, placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her knuckles, a small smirk on her lips.

you gave a her a questioning glance, not looking too long and shifting in your seat. maybe it was harder than it had to be. maybe it was your nerves telling you otherwise, maybe you were following the pounding of your heart and the butterflies in your stomach.

hitch looked you over, shaking her head with a small giggle before pushing her head from under her and standing up with her beverage. "i'm gonna go tell connie to change whatever the fuck is playing, i'll catch you later." and she walked around you, body disappearing into the bodies of people leaving you by yourself.

but not for long, a hand on your shoulder making you jump, you turning around and seeing eren, towering above you, a slight smile on his face. speak of the devil, it was the man of the hour— just who you wanted to see, and who you were happy to see. "hey."

"hey," you stand up almost too fast, pushing in the chair and standing in front of him. he steps back to give you some space, almost caught off guard with how fast you stood up. "what's up?"

he leans into your ear, making sure you're able to hear him over the sound of the music and the chatter of the people around the two of you. "want to go outside for a little bit? it's kind of too many people, just wanna get some air." the faint smell of alcohol is present on his breath, and it reminds you to grab your cup, nodding your head and taking his hand in yours— where it felt snug and right, just like it did earlier.

the two of you make your way out the house, and the air did feel good, it didn't feel stuffy, it wasn't loud, it was calm and quiet, the breeze of the night only chilling you slightly, but eren next to you made you dead to the breeze.

he walks forward, only a few steps and you follow along, until both of you are leaning against the railing that kept you from falling a couple feet or so, cup dangling off the edge in your hands, and the moon so bright in the sky it only felt a couple feet away.

"i feel like you don't know how much i actually love this." he starts, and when you look at him he's still staring at head, the glint of the moon making his eyes look ethereal, illuminating them in only the best way possible. "how much i appreciate this, this party, everything."

"i know, eren," a grin can't help but form on your face, and you could hear the words come from his mouth again and again. the feeling that his appreciation sent through you gave a sense of pleasure, a satisfaction and it brought a form of closure. "i know."

it's just quiet, it's nobody talking and it's just the two of you. you're allowed to relish in eren being beside you because that's what you wanted from the moment he arrived, you wanted to be with him, and so despite the two of you not talking, he was enough. the sound of his light breathing was enough, the heat radiating off of him was enough, the sight of him was enough.

yet, you break the silence.

"do you wanna see what i have for you?"

he finally looks your way, and his eyebrows are knit, pink lips only slightly parted, and your eyes can't help but flit down to them before coming back up to his eyes. you weren't sure if he missed your quick glance or not, his lips closing. "there's more."

"if i can recall, you get presents on your birthday right?"

this time, you're the one to grab his hand, and his fits in yours like a puzzle, and you're the one to pull him down the steps that you had ran down earlier, him being the one to finally trail behind you.

you walked him to your car, your hand digging in the pocket of your coat that albeit the warmth of the party you had managed to keep on, and you grabbed your keys, your thumb pressing down onto the black button that made the lights in the vehicle flare up. you place your solo cup on the roof of the car and your hand grasps the car doors for the backseat, opening it up and being greeted by leather seats and a small white bag.

you almost couldn't fathom that this small white bag only days ago you cared so much about, that the ribbon that your hands were holding onto mattered so much to you, the small lettering on the front mattered so much to you— and only moments ago eren couldn't express his enthusiasm for the party you planned for him.

all your friends who had repeatedly told you not to stress were right— if eren loved a stupid dirt cake, and a little embroidered letter, he'd love anything you gave him from a small paper bag or a couple of snacks to a watch, to a party.

you moved aside and eren moved forth, making himself comfortable on the seat of your car while you placed the bag in his lap, and he looked so adorable; the party hat that was splashed with color leaning a little too far right, and the cheerful smile on his face as he moved the tissue aside and peeked into the bag closely, before his head shot up and him beaming at you instead.

even though he didn't even see what was in the bag yet, his hand came to his chest dramatically, acting way too surprised for someone who wasn't even sure what you got him yet. "for me?"

you rolled your eyes gesturing to the present. you wanted him to see it so you ushered him on. "yes for you, now hurry up and open it, it's kind of cold out here." the cold was nothing to you today, your coat kept you warm enough.

he wasted no time complying, pulling out the small black box, a pretty suede under his fingers as he pulled off the lid, and his eyes shone as he did, another look of awe gracing his face as he stared at the contents of the box. you were so giddy, seeing the look of surprised wash over his face, that same feeling of satisfaction you received earlier came over you again and you were practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you watched eren.

it was a watch, the face of it a black and white photo of him and his mom when he was young, and you were to thank mikasa for finding the photo for you. the band was a matte black and the metal detailing the accessory a pretty gold that matched the key necklace that hung around his neck almost at all times. you hoped that the watch would become like the necklace— something he wore almost at all times.

he looked up at you, and although he was sitting down he pulled you forth by your wrist. the action caught you by surprise, his free hand holding your waist and his head buried into your stomach, and almost by default did your hand go up to play with the free strands of his hair, smoothing over his head, playing with his half assed bun and carding your fingers through his soft locks.

your heart was melting, you could almost cry— and you never knew that seeing the joy and admiration of you on someone else's face would mean so much to you, you never knew that making someone else happy was something that made you happy, especially when it came to someone like eren. it was the same expression that your friends had when they saw how happy you were when you all came together to complete another task for the event, and now you could feel what they felt, except tenfold.

so you let him press his head against you while he examined the watch, you were fine with staring over the roof of your car into the distance of the night, staring at what would've looked like nothing to you if eren wasn't in your arms.

it was all something, the tall trees whereas the green leaves on them was only visible because of the moonlight, the arrangement of cars spanning down the parking lot ahead, little things you wouldn't have thought twice about. little things that somehow eren made you recognize, eren made you hyper aware of how the little things mattered, in the worst sense at first, having you constantly stress over the little things. but now you were somewhat happy you took your time on these little things, because the little things that might seem like nothing to you, could mean the whole world to someone else.

you realize that eren would have been happy with anything that you wanted to give to him, no matter how little or big not because of what it is, but because of who you are and the thought that went into it.

you almost missed the small blabbers of "thank you" that left his mouth, his lips moving against the fabric of your dress, and your coat brushing the tip of his nose. it's only when he stood up and said one more to your face that you realized he had been talking to you the whole time.

the bag wasn't in his lap no more, and neither was the box, the watch now around his wrist, and it suited him perfectly, it complimented him so nicely, although it was a simple watch (which to be fair, it was the exact opposite of simple to him). the only thing still the same was his arm around your waist, and the soft expression on his features.

it wasn't that hard, it couldn't have been that hard— not now, when you finally realize that eren is eren, and he'll be happy with you no matter what, no matter what you give him, no matte what you say to him.

"eren?"

"yeah?"

"i like you."

if this was a few hours ago, you would've choked up on your words, your heart would be racing and your hands would be a clammy mess. hours ago you would've refused ever confessing to him, it wouldn't have even crossed your mind once.

hours ago, you didn't know eren as well as you thought you did because you were too busy worrying about the what-ifs, worrying about the little things that he would've loved anyways.

his expression didn't change, and yours didn't either because you were at peace, and your shoulders felt lighter just because he now knew.

"______?"

"yeah?"

"i like you too."

that was all that it took.

that was all it took for both of your hands to cup at his face, and pull him closer while you stood on your tippy toes, foreheads touching, then nose, then lips. all it took for you to feel so loved and complete, all by the feeling of his lips against yours, the synchronization of them moving together made you giddy again, made you happy.

your noses bumped but it was okay, your teeth clinked but it was okay, you both giggled into the kiss, not being able to shake the overwhelming feel of it that somehow still kept you feeling at peace.

he pulled you impossibly close, and he kissed you until he couldn't breathe anymore, taking his time sucking on your lips, savoring every taste of your skin and the way your lips felt. the kiss alone was the cherry to his birthday— scratch that, you were the cherry to his birthday.

and when the two of you finally pulled away for air your head fell forward onto his chest almost immediately, his head resting overtop of yours and keeping you safe in his arms, safe against him. "happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday." you were the one to blabber now, and you weren't sure if it was a distraction for the tears that threatened to spill or not.

he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head, swaying both of your bodies back and forth gently, swiftly, and kindly. he didn't respond, but he didn't need to respond, his love being thrown back at you just by the way he held you.

you could've stayed in this position forever, you really could've but the sound of armin calling for eren from the top of the steps is what broke the moment for the two of you, and what made matters worse (or better) was hitch standing right behind him, a leer on her face that made you let out a sigh.

"hey! eren!" armin almost doesn't realize that it's you right below eren, but when his gaze darts down to you for a millisecond he has to do a double take that causes him to break out in a smile, turning to hitch for a confirmation which she gives with a nod. "we were looking for you, we have to cut the cake!"

eren looks down at you and reluctantly lets you go, shutting your car door for you and grabbing your cup. "you can go back inside we're coming." he announces, and even then armin and hitch don't move, both leaning against the railing like you and eren earlier, as if something would come next between you and eren— you had to chuckle at this.

when you and eren began walking hand in hand, for the first time you didn't worry about what he'd think of the cake, you didn't worry about if he'd like the color, or the taste, or the shape, or anything for that matter, because you knew eren would appreciate anything you'd throw his way.

"hey,"

he looks down at you, and the calm look on his face almost mirrors yours. "yeah?"

"happy birthday, eren."

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[thebiggestfan1]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)

part two here

part three here

word count: 1860 words

TW: language, angst (?)

let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure

...

It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.

Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.

Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.

Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.

So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.

The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.

"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.

"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."

"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."

"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?

"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.

"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."

"Really? I've been there for a few years."

"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.

Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.

"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.

But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.

You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.

It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.

...

"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.

Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.

"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.

Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.

"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.

"Five years," you said.

Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.

"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.

Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."

"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.

"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.

Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.

You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.

The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.

You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing.  Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.

You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.

There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.

Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?

Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...

Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.

"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.

"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.

"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.

"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."

Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.

You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.

Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.

"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.

"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."

You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.

"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.

...

On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.

You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.

The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.

Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.

"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."

You tucked it in your pocket without a word.

"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."

It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.

"I will." you promised.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.

"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."

Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Matt."

...

The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.

You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.

Dear Y/N,

I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.

I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.

He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.

So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.

I love you,

Matt

With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.

That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.

The phone rang once before he picked it up.

"Y/N? What is it?"

A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.

"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."

"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"

"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."