They’re in the chilly fluorescent produce section, Neil steering the cart and Andrew catching it whenever he finds chocolate-covered berries or cartons of blended sugary juice to add to the pile. Neil’s got his old jersey conspicuously clashing with their new team’s red sweats, a dark bandana twisted up in his hair. It’s almost closing, and everything feels a bit cool and loose like no one’s really supposed to be awake.
When Neil’s busy bagging carrots Andrew gets his arms folded over the handle of the shopping cart, this stupid black t-shirt all stretched out at the neck, wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, mouth flat. Neil’s sort of fond of Andrew wearing his glasses in public, and he finds himself walking backwards in front of the cart as it’s pushed, openly watching him. Andrew picks the pace up just enough to bump heavily into his shins.
Neil smiles, looping his fingers through his end of the cart so they each have a side, rolling lopsidedly towards the opening of an aisle.
“Stop making things difficult.”
“Let me drive the cart.”
Andrew regards him, fair eyebrows raised. “You’re a control freak.”
Neil laughs, startled. “You let three people total drive your car. You wouldn’t even let Sir or King in our bed for the first three months we had them. You bartered for my secrets when we met, Andrew. ”
“And?” Andrew asks, examining a box of cake mix.
“I don’t think you should be talking about controlling personalities.”
Andrew ignores him, tossing the box in the cart and pushing it back towards Neil. “Go get your diet plan shit.”
Neil makes a face. “It’s our diet plan.”
“I am not willfully drinking skimmed milk.” Andrew crosses to the bags of jumbo marshmallows and Neil pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll put it in your hot chocolate.”
“You’ll die,” Andrew says simply.
Neil jostles the cart into Andrew’s side, and he drops the marshmallows back on the shelf, unimpressed. “Meet me at the front in five. I’m getting actual food to sustain actual people.”
Andrew shrugs and turns to wander out of the aisle, dragging the cart the wrong way behind him.
Neil coughs so he doesn’t laugh, senselessly thrilled. He jogs back towards the meat section, threading through coolers and displays until he finds the turkey bacon and lean chicken breasts that they live on. He’s frowning at an especially lifeless beige cut of fish when he’s wrenched around by the arm.
This is rather chaotic as I’ve put it together real quick and I’ve plenty favorites - I might add more as I remember or as I go through my reading (some are finished, some are on-going). For now though …
Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter Warnings: swearing, alcohol I can’t deny this was totally inspired by @sappypotter :)
Draco could hear the muffled voices through the thick, wooden door of his dorm. He was planning on staying in bed all night, but the voices from the common room kept getting louder and louder, and it was doubtable that Draco would get any sleep.
When he was sure of hearing Pansy’s cackling laugh from the next room, he finally decided to just go and join them.
A small silence fell over everyone when the blonde boy entered. Draco quickly scanned the room, which consisted of: Blaise Zabini, who wore the usual smirk on his lips, but seemed truly surprised to see Draco; Pansy, short hair tickling her neck, her chin tilted up with her usual demeanor; Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, whose legs were tangled together affectionately, his arm hung loosely over her shoulders.
And last of the bunch, who probably looked the most out of place next to Draco himself, was none other than Harry Potter, who pushed his wire-framed glasses half an inch up his nose as he stared at Draco, along with everyone else.
They all sat in a circle on the floor of the Slytherin common room, which wasn’t rare, ever since McGonagall implemented the new house unity rules for their eighth year. Draco sucked in a breath and regretted coming out of his room.
He just wished Potter would stop staring at him. It made him want to fidget.
“Well, look who decided to join us!” Pansy said, and Draco could tell alone from the tone of her voice that she was a little drunk. It wasn’t until then that he noticed the bottle of firewhiskey in the center of the circle, and all of the plastic cups scattered around the five of them.
When Draco didn’t respond, Blaise said, “Are you gonna sit, Malfoy? Or stand there and continue to stare at us all night?”
Clearing his throat, Draco nodded and muttered,”Yeah, I’ll sit.” He then proceeded to plop down where the biggest gap was, which just happened to be in between Pansy and Harry.
“Well, pour him a drink, Blaise,” prompted Pansy, as Blaise was refilling his own cup. But before Blaise took out a new cup for Draco, Harry blurted, “He can have mine. I’m done for the night.”
Draco turned to look at the curly-haired boy, who was holding out his half-filled cup of firewhiskey, almost like a peace offering. Harry’s glasses had fallen back down his nose, and it took a lot of willpower for Draco not to lean over and adjust them himself.
He tried to think of some witty insult about Potter drugging him, but Draco couldn’t even think straight when his pale fingers brushed against Harry’s warm ones, through the exchanging of the cup.
“Oh,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks.”
Draco turned back to face everyone, and he could practically feel Pansy’s stare digging into his skin. When he finally looked in her direction, she raised an eyebrow at him, her dark purple lips upturned into a suspicious smile.
She knew his secret. There was no getting past his best friend.
Draco took a big sip of the firewhiskey.
HIs eyes roamed around the room, which happened to be vacant saved for the six of them on the floor. Not many Hogwarts students returned the year after the war, and the majority of the ones that did weren’t very social.
Blaise began rambling about something Draco had no interest in, so he zoned out, his fingers wrapped tightly around his cup of alcohol that had previously belonged to Harry Potter.
What a weird turn of events his life had spiraled into. Less than a year ago, Draco was sure he was going to die in the Room of Requirement, when it was completely engulfed in hot flames during the battle.
He truly thought his life was over, but Harry Potter, dirt-streaked and sweat-stained, swooped in on a broomstick and carried Draco to safety.
And ever since that horrid day, Draco hadn’t been able to completely wipe Potter’s face from his mind.
The only sounds present were the fire crackling in the fireplace and Blaise’s smooth voice, rambling on about Merlin knows what. Draco practically jumped a foot into the air when he felt a hand on his left arm.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered, flicking something onto the carpet with the hand that had just grazed Draco. “You had a thread on your sweater.”
Trying to remain calm and ignore the heart palpitations inside his chest, Draco cleared his throat and mumbled, “It’s okay. Thanks.”
Was it a sin that, after that, all he wanted that night was for Harry to touch him again?
Within a matter of hours, the night had unraveled into an unnerving game of Truth or Dare.
After about five minutes, Ron had ended up without a shirt and Pansy had already shared a very detailed account of her last date with a girl she’d been seeing. Draco’s blood felt as if it were boiling with anxiety under his skin, and he wished he could just rewind the past couple of hours and retreat back to his warm bed.
But he couldn’t escape. “Truth or dare, Draco?” Pansy’s voice rang, dripping in sugar and venom.
The alcohol was blurring Draco’s thoughts slightly, but he was still very aware of the close proximity in which Harry was sitting, cross-legged, next to him.
He thought he had dodged a bullet when he answered, “Dare.”He didn’t want to deal with facing his secrets head on in front of everyone.
Pansy’s lips curled upward into a grin, and Draco’s stomach did flips. “I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.”
Everyone else hummed a collective, “Ooooh,” as Draco was forced to face this challenge (which he had never signed up for in the first place).
In attempts to play it safe, Draco moved toward his right - toward Pansy, whom he had always thought of to be nice to look at. But mostly because he hoped she would just help him out with the situation at hand.
It didn’t work, because Pansy leaned backward and Blaise blurted out, “Oh please, Draco, we all know you’re about as straight as the sky is red.”
Ron snickered, and Draco saw Hermione try to hide her smile as well, as she buried her face into Ron’s sweater. He shot them a look with daggers in his eyes before waiting for a reaction from Harry, which never came.
It was at this precise moment that Draco decided to down the rest of the firewhiskey in his cup, as the rest of the eighth-years stared him down. Draco needed as much courage he could possible get if he was going to do what he was about to do.
In one swift movement, Draco threw his empty plastic cup to the floor, scooped Harry Potter’s face into his hands, and kissed him hard on the mouth.
Harry was taken aback, naturally, and Draco felt the brunette’s whole body go rigid. Draco just kissed him harder, because he knew this may be his only chance - he’s never have the right confidence to do this again.
Draco was finally about to pull away, when Harry seemed to regain control of his body and began to kiss him back.
Draco felt like melting right then and there, and he probably would have if it weren’t for the fact that Harry’s face was sitting in his hands. The golden boy’s own hands made their way to Draco’s blonde hair, and it felt like…
Heaven. That was the only word Draco could think of as the two boys moved their lips against one another’s. He wasn’t even religious, but that’s exactly what it felt like to Draco - heaven.
It was sloppy, and wet, and utterly wonderful.
When it was finally over, they pulled away and just stared at each other, for what felt like a lifetime.
The common room was dead silent, as Pansy, Blaise, Hermione, and Ron stared in complete surprise and fascination. Draco had nearly forgotten he had an audience - no, they, had an audience.
Draco wasn’t sure any of them would ever speak again until Blaise finally whispered, “Damn,” his voice sounding low and raspy.
That’s when Draco finally ripped his eyes from Harry’s and looked around at the spectators, who stared back looking quite dumbfounded.
No one had probably ever expected none other than Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy to bump lips, let alone be in the same room and not at each other’s throats.
When Draco looked back at Harry and his forest-green eyes, he was met with Potter’s crooked yet beautiful grin staring him in the face.
Things had changed - Draco could feel it in the air, and certainly in the tingle of his lips. He smiled back at the curly-haired boy. Draco was ready for a change.
So y’know that weird glass decoration that drunk!Sherlock was checking out at the Mayfly Man’s place during the stag night?
It’s totally in his hospital room in TLD.
In the background, by the window. I don’t think you ever see it much closer than in this screencap (apologies for my literal cell phone pictures of screens), but it looks exactly the same, down to the black metal/wire frame that suspends the glass over the base.
listen,,, dex gets into a particularly brutal fight at an away game and ends up with a ripped contact lens AND a black eye. he wears old, wire-framed glasses that keep sliding down his nose on the bus ride home, and the blue of the bruise stands out against the red of his hair (and freckles and the amber of his eyes) and he’s biting his lip in concentration while he reads for a class and nursey is Finished™
When Neil walked into his dorm room, the first thing he noticed were the clothes strewn about on the floor. It didn’t bother him; it was strategic of course. It made sense for Neil to take off his pants in front of the toilet when he changed at night because that’s where he put his pants on in the morning. Shirts were midway through the room because he immediately took his shirt off when he walked into the bedroom and it was also the last thing he put on in the morning. Shoes were kicked off first thing when he walked in the door and were slipped on right before he walked out in the mornings. It was messy but it was functional. At least for him.
Both Andrew and Kevin had told Neil that he was a slob. The words Andrew used might have been, “messy ass bitch.” It was because he was always leaving piles of clothes everywhere, always had to be reminded to do laundry, had to be reminded how to do the laundry—put in fabric softener when you do towels, Neil—and of course he had to be reminded to fold and put away those clothes as well. When it was brought up, of course Neil was willing to do what he was told, but that was the problem—he always waited until he was told. Andrew and Kevin liked to see how long he would go before he did his laundry, as a form of protest, surely, he had to eventually break down and do laundry, right?
Wrong. Unquestionably, the best part about having more than three outfits to your name was the longer waits between washes. If there was one thing that Neil hated, under any pseudonym, it was laundry. Over the course of his first year at college, Neil had gotten quite the collection of clothing from the Foxes. Neil didn’t think that he had actually bought one outfit that now resided in the utilitarian chest of drawers he was provided in Fox Tower.
please take time out of your day to imagine neil josten with curly, messed up bedhead and wire frame reading glasses with freckles on his cheeks from being in the sun too much, wearing nothing but a psu sweatshirt and shorts with the most obnoxiously orange and white striped socks thank you
I’d spent two years trying to get a job at the library on campus. I’d talked to the admission offices, the Gentry, the Education Board, the librarians, only to come up with nothing. I was, apparently, unqualified, which I thought was untrue. I’d worked for years as a librarian assistant over multiple summers. I was getting my major in Library Science. I even befriended some Fair Folk and their friends with my knowledge on books. Still, nothing. That is, until the main staff of human librarians disappeared. That was when the packet of paperwork was sent my way.
“Hello?” I called out when I entered the library before my first class. “I’m here for the librarian job?”
“Good morning, Ms. Ellis.”
I turned to see the most beautiful woman in the world. Black hair, creamy coffee colored skin, and golden eyes that seemed to stare into my very soul. I was floored. I sputtered out some sort of response, to which she smiled. I melted.
“I see you have your papers,” she said. “I’m truly sorry for the delay in you joining us. If I was in charge, you would have been a member of staff on your first day. There was definitely enough evidence for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you not remember? You’re one of the only students I’ve seen find her book within two minutes of being here, and finding your way out again. This library chose you, as it did us many years ago.”
I looked around to suddenly notice four more women walking around the library. One of them smiled and waved. I returned a smile, then turned back to the librarian.
“We’re always here. You’ve spoken to a few of us over your time here.”
“Yes, I remember. I just have a question, though. The main office said only non-humans worked here after the human ones disappeared.”
“Oh, those old crows doesn’t keep up with anything nowadays. The librarians either chose to stop working here, or switched to our side.”
I remained confused.
“Walk with me, Ellis. My name is Ina, by they way. You see, we librarians are all of different backgrounds. I, for example, am a Siren. I found the sea was not my calling, and found this place. Some of the librarians felt being a human was not their calling, so they became various creatures. Most choose to become a member of the Fae, or something of that nature. You’re not required to do the same, but you may choose this path when the time is right.”
“I thought humans weren’t able to do that. I asked the Gentry about it.”
“The librarians are a special case. Here, this way.”
She led me to an elevator. We got in, and pressed the button for the 18th floor. I continued to be surprised by how many stories could fit in a small buildings. I asked Ina about it.
“You mean…you’ve always known?”
“Well, yeah. Isn’t that common knowledge?”
“Only those with The Sight, non-human decent, or a relative of one of the original builders of the library can see the other floors. Do you have The Sight?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I can see Faes pretty well, but a lot of people can. Before you ask, I don’t know about my ancestry. I’m adopted, never knew my birth family.”
The elevator doors opened. Ina talked me over to the main desk. Behind the wood was a large man reading a small book. He looked up when we walked over.
“Matthias,” Ina said. “I need a scan on our potential employee.”
The man, Matthias, took off his wire-framed glasses and stared at me with almost completely white eyes. He leaned back in his chair a minute later, as if considering something.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“Ellis, right? It seems you have quite a bit of Fae heritage. I’m surprised you’re not showing signs of the Fae.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re officially part of the team,” Ina said, looping an arm around my shoulders. “Welcome, Ellis of the Fae, to your new job.”
(I don’t know if I’ll continue this or not, but man was it fun to write! If whoever reads this wants me to continue, let me know with replies, I guess? I’ve never submitted anything to this universe before, so let me know if I got something wrong)
Pairing: nurseydex Words: ~3600 Summary: Derek and Dex end up spending a week together. Alone. In Maine. At a lake house. This leads to some important conversations about relationships.
Derek was sitting on the edge of a dock on a lake in Maine wondering what the fuck happened in his life to bring him here. Well, actually he knew exactly what brought him here. He had mentioned casually in the Haus one day near the end of the semester than his parents were planning on going to Italy for a week for their anniversary, and, while he was invited along, he opted not to go so his moms could enjoy the vacation as a couple.
since i can’t seem to stop cranking out pynch oneshots this week have another one (with a side of bluesy because why not):
It may have started as a joke, but Adam’s not laughing now.
It’s been a few months since everything happened. Some things (Blue finally being able to kiss Gansey) have been easier to adapt to than others (Noah’s disappearance, Ronan and Adam finding themselves co-parenting a half-goat girl) but they’re making it work.
Truly, Adam’s biggest problem at the moment is trying to decide if he wants to keep one or both of his jobs over the summer to save up for any college expenses not covered by his (very, very generous) full-ride scholarship.
And Ronan’s current outfit. That’s definitely jumped to the top of Adam’s list of problems.
Henry had decided they needed more fun in their lives and that it was time they acted like the teenagers they are before September rolls around and everyone goes their separate ways (well, Henry, Blue and Gansey are going one way and Adam and Ronan are going two other ways but the point still stands).
His lease for the Litchfield house is up at the end of June and he decides to have one last blow out party to celebrate.
But not just any party.
A costume party.
“You do know it’s fucking June, right?” Ronan had muttered when Henry had burst into Monmouth carrying streamers and cans of glittery spray paint.
“That I do, Lynch. Which is why it’s a costume party and not a Halloween party.” Henry had said with a grin.
And that was that.
Now it’s the morning of the party and Adam’s having a hard time keeping his mouth shut as he sprawls out on the bed and watches his boyfriend get ready. Ronan, pissy about dressing up (“It’s a costume party Lynch I think you can chill out on the whole ‘I don’t lie’ thing in this particular case”) had decided that if he was going to be forced to be someone else for the night, then naturally it would be at Gansey’s expense.
One orange polo shirt and a pair of pressed khaki shorts later and Adam is having a crisis. He’s never really been into Gansey’s particular aesthetic (neither had Blue, actually, which Adam privately finds hilarious) but there’s something about Ronan wearing his signature items that’s doing something to him.
I find it utterly fascinating and downright delightful that even though in canon Gansey is depicted as:
(1) wearing his contact lenses much more than his glasses in public (implied bc Blue was taken by surprise in TRB when she first saw him in glasses at least a month after she joined the crew)
(2) owning nearly invisible wire-frame glasses that somehow manage to go unnoticed the first time Blue sees him wear them (despite the fact that his prescription is definitely close to -8.00 and his eyes would look noticeably smaller than usual when he has his glasses on)
-the collective image of him in the fanbase skews heavily towards Gansey who always wears chunky-framed hipster glasses because his history nerd hipster game is just too strong for us to see anything else. Gansey is such a hipster that we can’t help but depict him according to the #aesthetic and I think that’s beautiful.
You weren’t one for internet dating. There were all kinds of stories about creeps and freaks who could easily take advantage of someone going in with the purest of intentions after all. But your usual pick up spots had gotten pretty sparse lately, and enough time had past from your last break up for you to start putting yourself out there again. A new start, and the anonymity of the internet was an attractive lure.
You find yourself eventually talking to this rather cute sounding guy. A bit of a snob when it came to his hobbies, it’s true, but you had a bad habit of doing the same when discussing your favorite books, or arguing the merits of your movie collection. It was nice to come across a kindred spirit (Even if he was totally wrong about which House was better in the HP series).
But you noticed he was always pretty elusive when it came to describing himself. You knew he had two brothers that always seemed to hack his account (And if you were honest they were pretty cool to talk to until he kicked them out). You knew he worked in a library somewhere. You knew his favorite expression for annoyance was >Headbutts “item/person”<. But you didn’t actually know anything about what he looked like.
It was a tad worrying. You liked this guy and even his brothers. You didn’t want to have to be the asshole and start demanding at least a picture of himself. There were tons of reasons why he wouldn’t want to show his face after all, some good, some bad… You just had to take a chance…
But then his brother managed to sneak back onto his account (And really, if there was anything you would suggest to work on it was his passwords), giving you a time and a place to meet up. It was what you had been waiting for, a chance to finally see this guy eye to eye.
You hope he was cute.
Arriving at the small bar his brother suggested, you ended up waiting… and waiting… And waiting… Finally deciding he was a no show and without a message of explanation, you get up to leave, only to hear your name called by a hesitant voice…
You turn around and he was… Certainly… Noticeable. Built like a brick outhouse, taller by you by at least a foot, maybe a foot and a half if he stopped slouching, loose leather jacket that, surprisingly, sent a tingle over your body and where did that come from? And those wire frame glasses were just… Cute seemed like an understatement. Oh. And he had white fur. Hourglass eyes. Curved horns. And attached onto a body with a smirking lion’s head in the middle and a sleepy looking reptile on the other side.
You had heard about the Preternatural races of course, but this was your first time seeing one. And you’ve been apparently flirting with one for months. At least now his reluctance to show himself on screen was more understandable.
Slowly, you hold out your hand and try to hide your nerves with a smile as you introduce yourself. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
He has a firm grip. He could easily crush every bone in your hand without effort. But his shy, almost scared smile can’t help but make him look adorable as his siblings exchange a pleased smirk behind his head. You chuckle a little awkwardly and gesture to a nearby chair as you sit back down.
After all, you deserve it to both of you (Four of you?) to at least give this a chance…
Toshinori sat on the living room couch, thumbing through a novel Ectoplasm suggested. Soft banter from his students drifted from the kitchen and dining area where studying was in full swing. Occasionally, a student came to him for help on their assignments. It brought a smile to Toshinori’s face. The moments were brief, but he was teaching again.
His ears flicked and skewed the glasses perched on his nose.
, he clicked his tongue, setting his book aside to fix the large, round, wire-frame glasses. During his last exam with Recovery Girl, she checked his eyes for any changes the night vision quirk may have caused.
“You’ll need reading glasses,”
“Honestly, you’ve needed them for a while. I’ll have a pair made for you before you start getting migraines.”
Should have known, given her fashion sense…
Toshinori chuckled, remembering the look on his face when he saw himself wearing them for the first time. He gaped at himself in the mirror, but the kids loved them and insisted they were perfect.
With his glasses righted, he returned to his book and his dexterity exercises.
Tail lifting and curling, Toshinori carefully moved a small pillow from the floor and set in on the pillow pyramid he’d stacked at his side. It was Ojiro’s idea to get a better feel for his tail, and young Yaoyorozu was kind enough to create a number of different shaped pillows for him.
Toshinori was shocked to find the tip of his tail was incredibly flexible and, with practice, almost as useful as a third hand. With a sweep of his tail he knocked the neat pile to the ground and began again.
Halfway through the next pyramid, Toshinori’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, grinning at the name on the screen.
“Naomasa! Hello,” he answered, scooping up the remaining pillows on the floor and depositing them on the couch. Standing, he bashfully waved at the few curious students looking his way and excused himself, “How are you?”
LISTEN I LOVE YOUR JOKES SO: you’re obviously high or hungover so I’m going to rescue you and tell the teacher why your answer wasn’t as strange as it sounded, but you’ll owe me.
Sansa hated running late especially to Professor Baelish’s class. She hated it for multiple reasons. The first being that Baelish already made her uncomfortable and she didn’t want to give him any reason to give her more attention. The second reason, and honestly the most important reason, was the notes left on her desk.
She had to bit her cheek to keep from smiling too wide when she got to class. Not only did she arrive just on time she wasn’t disappointed to see a little card on her desk. Unfortunately, she was unable to look in the card because Baelish had begun his lecture. It didn’t really matter because she knew that the note would contain some cute drawing and a pun.
She saved them all and had a little collage in her apartment. Margaery had made fun of the board, but Sansa knew the little notes were a bright spot to her day. One of her favorites was a drawing of the periodic table with Cu and Te in a pink with the question “Are you made of copper and tellurium because you’re CuTe”. The pun was cheesy, but it never failed to put a smile on her face.
Her thoughts were broken when Jon Snow stumbled into class. She had known him growing up because of her siblings, but was shocked when they ended up in classes together at law school. She knew that he had served in the Army for a short period, but the service had done him well.
He was still the shy and occasionally brooding boy that she remembered, but now he had muscles that had not been present as they grew up. Sansa didn’t even know she was a fan of forearms until she found herself distracted during a lecture when he pushed his sleeves to his elbows and continued taking notes.
She knew he must’ve been out late because his hair lacked that effortlessly tousled look and genuinely looked like an actual case of bed head. His wire framed glasses did nothing to disguise his red rimmed eyes. She assumed he attended Robb’s bachelor party the night before, but it confused her why he wouldn’t skip class. Everyone had three free passes if it wasn’t an exam day and she couldn’t recall him using his free passes. Not that she was keeping track of Jon Snow’s attendance. She absolutely wasn’t.
Baelish looked annoyed at Jon’s late entrance. She knew that it was likely Jon would be called on when it came to discussions of the assigned reading and lecture. She almost winced fifteen minutes later when Jon was called on with so much disdain dripping from Petyr’s voice.
“So, Mr. Snow how would you handle a client who has admitted guilt to you?” Professor Baelish asked.
“I’d advise my client on plea bargains and work out the best plea deal for my client” Jon’s answer was surprisingly steady despite his obvious hangover, but all wrong for this class.
Sansa could feel the shocked looks their classmates were giving each other at Jon’s response. Any other professor Jon’s response would have been acceptable, but Petyr was notorious for encouraging students to bury their evidence and base arguments on introducing an entirely new suspect. She could feel the lecture Jon was about to receive and she couldn’t stand it. He’d just owe her big time for this intervention.
“He’s not wrong to advise his client on taking a plea bargain. Your methods wouldn’t work with a client like this and more than likely they would confess during cross examination. Better to avoid trial all together” Sansa argued.
“Ah, you’re correct Miss Stark and why you’re one of the star pupils of this class. Others should take note” The lecture seemed to continue like Sansa’s correction was a normal every day thing.
She tried to fight the blush that was rising when she noticed Jon’s stare. The only word to describe it was intense. When class was over she made sure to hurry out before Jon or Baelish could flag her down. She could tell Jon was disappointed when he realized he wouldn’t catch up to her.
Once she was close to her apartment she allowed herself to take a deep breath. She really thought that her crush on Jon Snow would’ve disappeared with all the other high school fantasies that seemed to die out with undergrad. She really didn’t want to deal with those feelings because nothing good could come from them.
She decided to distract herself with finally reading the note. She giggled when she saw two hastily drawn knights with the quote two knight, won’t be just any knight. Her heart raced when she saw the address to one of her favorite coffee places and 7:30 next to the address.
Maybe the best way to get over her dumb crush on Jon Snow was to meet the mysterious person leaving these sweet notes?
Sansa straightened her cardigan as she sat at a lone table in the coffee shop. It was 7:55 and it was slightly crowded due to some open mic night that was ending. She wasn’t how long was appropriate to wait before deciding she had been stood up.
She felt awkward when she saw Jon Snow heading towards her table with two cups in his hand. She gave him a small smile when he sat down across from her and handed her a mug. She took a small sip and sighed at the delicious nut meg taste.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I had this whole thing planned and completely forgot about the open mic night” Jon started, but stopped when he noticed her choking on her drink. After a few awkward pats against her back she was able to regain her ability to breathe.
“You’re the one leaving the notes?” Sansa wanted to make sure she had heard him correctly and that her brain wasn’t short circuiting and making up what it wanted to hear.
“Well, I remembered you liked puns and shit I should have just asked you out. Robb and Theon are really the worst at giving advice” Jon cursed under his breath “I really wanted to get tonight right especially after you helped me out in class today”.
“What did you want to do tonight?” Sansa was genuinely curious as to what he considered had gone wrong.
“I, uh, well I wanted to give you your favorite latte and say something like I like you a latte, and hope to God you may agree to go on an actual date with me.” Jon told her with a shy smile and red creeping up on his cheeks.
“Good news, I like you and your excessive use of puns and would be happy to go on an actual date with you” Sansa couldn’t help but smile at Jon before leaning across the table to give him a quick kiss.
Years later, when Jon was ready to propose he left the same card with two knights and instructions on where to meet him. Sansa said yes.