#my hair did fall out tho. got a little extra distance running back to get my hairtie off the road

[no-one-hears-me]

good run this morning btw

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

🎄 This may be a little (read: a lot) cliche, but could you do a blurb on where you don’t think Tom is going to make it home for Christmas but he surprises you by knocking on the door? Thank you lovely!!!

Request 2: Tom with “I won’t make it home for Christmas” for your sleepover. I love some angst, tho maybe a fluffy ending?

A/n: The first day of blurbmas! This one is coming early because I couldn’t schedule it. These requests have been sitting in my inbox for a year so again I’m really sorry it’s late. I also got a little carried away with this and I was in the mood for dad!Tom so... 

WC: 1.8k 

Warnings: Some mild angst but other than that cuteness overload

12 days of Blurbmas! 

Christmas was your favourite time of the year and had been since you were little. It just felt so magical, like anything could happen. 

When you were younger you used to wish for things like a new bike or that new CD of the artist you really liked but you had never felt like you wanted anything more than your wish this year. It was something you knew Santa could never bring you and this close to Christmas you would think it near impossible but still you hoped. That was until you got a phone call a few days before Christmas. 

You were just wrapping some last minute presents when your phone rang. You smiled at the picture that flashed onto your phone and answered the call. 

“Hi darling.” Even just the sound of his voice as tired as it was could lift your spirits and make you smile.

“Hi Tommy. How’s filming going?” 

Your fiancé had been gone for 2 months now filming his next movie and whilst you missed him like crazy there was no doubt how proud of him you were. Tom hated being away for so long especially since Emma had been born but you reassured him you were both fine and sent updates about your little girl everyday.

“It’s going great.” Tom’s voice sounded strained, feeding more into your doubt that something was wrong. 

“Baby what’s wrong?” 

He sighed through the phone and you could tell he was running his hand through his messy curls and probably tapping his foot. You waited patiently for his answer but your worry grew more by the second. 

“I-I don’t think I’m gonna make it home in time for Christmas. I’m so sorry my love.” 

Your whole heart sank to the pits of your stomach, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you looked at the present you had just wrapped for him. You took a deep breath and tried to hide all emotion from your voice as you spoke to Tom. 

“Oh baby, that’s okay.” 

“No it isn’t.” He knew you too well. He could pick up on the smallest change in your voice or expression, he knew that his news would make you feel disappointed and upset. “I want to be home with you and Emma but there’s no flights going in or out anytime soon.”

You bit your lip and nodded mostly to yourself. You had heard about the snowstorm in Atlanta but you’d hoped it would die down before Christmas. Wishful thinking, you thought.

“I can still facetime you on Christmas day. I know it won’t be the same but-” 

“Tommy, it’s okay.” You couldn’t stop the sniffle that escaped you as you tried to hold back your tears. “We can just celebrate when you get back.” 

“O-okay.” Tom was doing his best to sound okay too and you were both thankful you weren’t facetiming right now. Just as you were about to try and change the subject, a loud sound went off in the distance from the other end of the phone. “I have to go back to set, I love you darling.” 

“I love you too baby.” 

As soon as the call ended, you let the tears fall and took a shaky breath. Usually you could deal with Tom being home later than usual or even missing your birthday but Christmas was your favourite time of year and you’ve always spent it together. 

You were just fiddling with the ring on your finger when you heard the door creak open. You quickly wiped your eyes and put the presents out of sight. 

“Mummy?” 

You turned to see your 3 year old daughter walking into your room in her unicorn pajamas, holding her spider-man plushie that Tom had gotten her close to her chest. 

“You should be asleep, little miss.” You whispered but held your arms open anyway. Emma smiled and cuddled into your arms as you picked her up. She caught a stray tear falling down your cheek and frowned. 

“Why are you crying Mummy?” 

You looked at your daughter’s little pout and smiled at how much it reminded you of Tom as well as her messy brunette curls. You cuddled her close and kissed her head, choosing not to tell her until morning otherwise she’d never sleep. 

“It’s nothing.” 

Emma gave you a look before seeming to accept your answer and cuddled into bed with you. She looked so small on Tom’s side of the bed as she snuggled down which made you smile. She gave a small yawn as she closed her eyes, muttering the one question you wished you hadn’t asked.

“When’s daddy coming home?” 

You sighed and ran your fingers through her curls, humming softly. “Not soon enough.” You let out a watery giggle and Emma smiled before quickly falling asleep next to you. 

When you did eventually tell Emma that Tom wouldn’t be home in time for Christmas, her little eyes filled up with tears so quickly that it broke your heart. She didn’t stop fussing and crying the entire day, kicking her legs and refusing to do much that you asked. It wasn’t until you went to bed that you let yourself really feel your emotions and cry, making one last wish that Tom would come home. 

Despite the emptiness of Tom’s presence you still tried to make the most of Christmas eve. You made your famous hot chocolate, put on Emma’s favourite christmas movie and made sure to bake extra cookies so you could have some as well as Santa. 

Tom facetimed you from his hotel room and it almost felt like he was really there except for his warm arms around you and kisses he would try to steal whenever he could. Emma loved talking to Tom on facetime because they would always pull funny faces at each other and talk nonsense for the most part. 

Emma ended up falling asleep on your lap after the film finished and you got to spend some time with Tom. You both tried not to talk about the obvious or how much you missed each other, trying to keep it lighthearted since it was Christmas eve. 

“Oh I got Emma this amazing present. Just wait until you see her-”

Tom and you both looked down and sighed. 

“Sorry, I-i forgot for a minute.” You apologised, fidgeting once again with your ring which is something you did whenever you missed Tom. He noticed the behaviour and bit his lip, wanting so desperately to be there with you. 

“It’s okay. I’ll try and be home as soon as I can.” 

You nodded and put on a smile, both of you knowing there wasn’t a lot he could do in the middle of a snowstorm. You could see it still flurrying past his window. 

After the phone call ended with your usual “I love you’s” you carefully picked Emma up and put her to bed. You kissed her forehead and said goodnight, making sure she was really asleep before going down to set up for christmas. You ate the cookies, drank the milk and put the presents under the tree so that it was all ready for the morning before going to bed. You wore Tom’s hoodie and snuggled close to his pillow as you fell asleep that night. 

You woke up the next morning to a loud knocking sound from downstairs. Before you could even register what day it was let alone the time there was another knock, louder this time and more persistent. 

“Jeez I’m coming.” 

You sighed as you looked at your alarm clock and got out of bed, yawning sleepily as you walked downstairs. The floor was too cold for your feet and you were ready to have a go at whoever was on the other side of the door for making you wake up this early.

“You do know it’s 6am on Christmas morn-” You mumbled grumpily as you opened the door, your eyes not quite catching up with your brain as you expected it to be a neighbour or the mailman. 

“Hi darling.” 

Your eyes shot open as you looked up, your heart thumping loudly in your chest as it started to race. There standing in your doorway as Tom. His hair was mess under his beanie which was covered in snow like the rest of him. He looked tired and cold but the smile on his face couldn’t be clearer. 

Before you could decide whether it was a dream or not you wrapped your arms tightly around Tom. His arms wrapped around you and held you tight. Neither of you needed to say a word as you held each other, the snow falling down around you in a perfect flurry. 

When you finally pulled away, both of you smiled at each other. You shook your head and held him close as a million questions rushed around your brain. “H-how?” 

“I have my ways and I couldn’t miss Christmas with my girls.” Tom smiled and cupped your face with his gloved hands. He rubbed his thumb over your cheek before planting a sweet kiss on your lips. You smiled and kissed him back, your fingers tangling in his curls.

You wanted nothing more than for this moment to last forever but soon enough you heard little footsteps coming down the stairs followed by a loud scream.

“Daddy!” 

You pulled away and giggled as Emma ran over to Tom. He picked her up into his arms and cuddled his daughter close, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. 

“Hey princess.” 

You smiled at the sight before Tom pulled you into the hug, kissing both of your heads. “Merry Christmas my loves.” 

You stayed like that for a moment before the cold began to sink into your skin and you pulled Tom inside. He took off his cold clothes and changed into his christmas pajamas as per tradition. Meanwhile, Emma finally spotted all the presents and started jumping excitedly. 

Once you were all downstairs, warm and most importantly together you told Emma she could open her gifts. Tom wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head as he watched and opened his own gifts too. 

He also gave you and Emma the presents he had brought whilst filming and you smiled at him in surprise. 

“You didn’t have to baby.”

“I wanted to. Open it.” 

He stole a kiss and held you close as you opened the box. You gasped softly as you saw the stunning silver necklace with a small H on it. 

“It’s a H for Holland.” He smiled, a small blush painting his cheeks as he put it on you. 

“I love it.” You smiled wide and kissed over his face, holding him close. Emma was already fascinated with the singing Elsa doll that Tom had given her which made you both laugh. 

The truth was you didn’t need all the presents under the tree because you’d gotten your Christmas wish that year and your family was all you needed.

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Tom Holland - @teen--marvel @musicalkeys @fancyxparker

[sanchoyo]

Looks like you’re gonna have to gush some more cuz I meant in general uwu🌸

🌺😌🤟 Always happy to! Okay here’s just some General bnha Thoughts ™ Mostly Lov centric. You asked for them, and you said GUSH about them, so here’s. A Lot! :)

This isn’t a lov one but it’s really funny so I thought I’d put it out there:

-when bnha was first gaining traction on tumblr, it was all art of Tsuyu. I have no idea why. People were talking about the funky frog lesbian superhero anime. Maybe it was just the people I was following, maybe it was a general trend, but I LOVED her design!!! my fav color and frogs r super cute!!! And I already loved superhero media, so I was like. I’ll watch it. For Her. SO. FROPPY IS THE REASON I WATCHED/READ BNHA. I went in thinking she was the protag and I was sooo confused when Izuku was... tbh I still think it’d be more interesting if she was lmaooo aus where? ...seriously if anyone has good aus where this is the case send them LOL

-I don’t actually feel that bad abt what Shigaraki’s doing. I still feel bad for him. I’m this post. yes im an apologist. its not my fault hes sexy and has been running around shirtless. hes a lesbian icon like thor is. I want to touch his hair. hes never done anything wrong in his life. he could kill all might, deku, bakugo, whatever, I’d still be sayin this. I don’t feel bad for gt. like. was anyone genuinely attached to him? lmao

-well u know how spinner’s quirk is just sticking to things? We haven’t seen him use it in canon except like, (1) time iirc?? I think this is probably bc he’s embarrassed about it even in front of the league... I loooove the idea that he gets more comfortable with it around them :”) and also how shigaraki. um. does that falling asleep thing while standing up with his eyes open, canonly? (which I still love lmfao) Imagine someone in the league walking in a dark room, turning on the light n just seeing. Spinner upside down, stuck to the ceiling asleep bc heat rises and its Warmer Up There. (cold blooded thing like tsuyu?? come ON give him a big fuzzy coat and scarf...) and Shigaraki in the center of the room, slouched but still standing, eyes open and motionless. Theyre both sleeping. Whomever sees it just...slowly walks out. LMAO

-Toga roller derby au. No deep thoughts I just think she’d be good at it. 

-Toga 100% is a social butterfly and could befriend anyone if they didn’t just judge the fact she was trying to stab them smh :/ (ok but seriously anytime I see cute friendships with her n the other kids im like :) aw. I feel like her and Camie...would be good friends. Camie feels chill enough to be like ‘ok whatever thats totally fine I forgive you!!’ LMAO we love airheads here)

-HOW DID TOGA GET SO GOOD AT FIGHTING? We know she’s been on the run since middle school or so, but good enough to pin Deku down after he’s been formally trained at a ~hero school~ for a while? (she pinned him TWICE I think, once when his arms were messed up, but, the other time as Camie, so? AND THEN WAS ONE OF THE 100 PEOPLE TO GO THRU TO THE 2ND ROUND OF THAT? even tho she didn’t bc she had to leave) good enough to beat Aizawa in a fight and stab him? A professional hero and teacher for YEARS? Is that seriously just street training??? Can people acknowledge how amazing her combat skills and reflexes are??? More Toga appreciation when?? Also her backstory??? SO subversive and incredible, hate when people reduce her to just a ~typical anime yandere~ :/

-Tomura doing stuff with his hands/fingers to train his quirk!!! And to learn to be careful with it!! obv I’m a Big Fan of him playing piano to do this and video games are prob the canon answer, but like, guitar or any stringed instrument that requires Hands would work too. Or knitting/sewing? EMBROIDERING? ??? Please, let me give you the mental image of him knitting aggressively while mentally scheming, watching a twitch streamer or smth too while doing it. (Doing stuff with your hands is a great way to let your mind come up with creative stuff, that’s how I come up with writing/drawing ideas 70% of the time)

-Tomura actually PREFERS cutesty, relaxing games. I mean, he does fighting and bloody stuff irl, games are a way to relax...he’ll play shooters and gta type games with The Lads, but. on his own?? animal crossing. pokemon. kirby games. mario. zelda. BIG ZELDA FAN (not saying this bc I, personally, am biased, but,) slime rancher, stardew valley, funny simulator games... he really enjoys those :”) God forbid he has a kid bc they’re 100% getting named after a viddy game character unless someone can talk him out of it LOL. Toga and Tomura are that animal crossing /doom meme where she’d be asking for doom and him asking for animal crossing :”)

-Bits and pieces of Before are kinda stuck in Kurogiri’s brain, but like. mostly useless stuff the doctor didn’t care about removing. Like, types of clouds. So Tomura kinda picks up on stuff like that. He can just look at clouds and tell you what type they are because Kurogiri used to take him up to high places in the city and point them out to calm Tomura down from a panic attack when he was younger. He can tell you if the sky looks like it’ll rain with a 80% accuracy rate too. 

-Kurogiri left food out for kitties in the alley beside the bar. They weren’t allowed in for Health Reasons (it IS a bar with sanitation standards!!) And Tomura really wouldn’t stop it or encourage it either way so long as Kurogiri did his job, but occasionally would stand outside with Kurogiri and just watch the kitties from a distance. If any approached he’d go back in (lowkey afraid he’d hurt them by touching them :( ) They kinda kept that between them tho, bc they both Know AFO is a big bag of dicks and no fun

-people have pointed out how similar aizawa and tomura look. this was 100% the intention. tomura has a hatecrush on him. THIS IS SO FUNNY AND HORRIBLY AWKWARD FOR KUROGIRI LMAO

-Sako??? Mr. Dramatic?? Opera fan. Drama kid. Like, obviously, but. Really. He is. I feel like he can speak a dozen languages. I also feel like he used to be an overachiever but got too ambitious. He was def some kind of leader at one point of a diff Group or something that fell apart. I LOVE how creative he is with his quirk and the magician theme??? incredible. I don’t show him enough love but I Love Clowns :o)

-I don’t care what their canon heights are. Spinner and Dabi? short kings. My height hcs are (tallest to shortest) Kurogiri, Twice, Sako (who also has heels on his boots and a tall hat, keep in mind), Tomura, Magne (Tomura and Magne are about the same height imo) Toga, Spinner, Dabi. LISTEN. Dabi has short energy. Sorry. it’s true tho

-This is a semi-popular hc I think bc I KNOW I’ve seen it before, but Dabi having Terrible Vision and needing glasses is so so good. (seriously, with burns THAT close to his eyeballs, how could he not?) 

-he tries to be a tough loner coolguy. you’d think he’d smoke, but I hc his ‘weak constitution’ comes with weak lungs (esp from years of a flame quirk?? inhaling smoke over so much time is SO bad for you, most people who die in fires actually die of smoke inhalation...) so he’s got like, an inhaler, can’t smoke, actually gets carsick, needs glasses, overuses quirk to save friends constantly, likes napping, a little awkward and rude. Tomura put him in charge of the vanguard so he’s smart, and good with strategies too, like a nerd. this is the Dabi I wanna see, not the popular fandom version of him tbh also step on hawks one more time sir :”)

-I wish all the lov fics weren’t?? villain!deku like I said earlier, but also, chatfics? I have nothing against them but most of them are just a bombardment of Memes with NO PLOT!!! Listen. text/chatfics CAN have plot and be an interesting way to tell a story. I almost want to write one just to show what I mean...

I know I’ve said I like spinaraki and blackmagic, but I am a multishipper, so a few ships I don’t talk about that I like that involve the lov in some way:

-toga/any of the 1A girls??? or Camie??? super interesting. ALSO in the radio drama, bakugo’s voice actor said Toga was his favorite girl??? so?? bakugo/toga ?? I WANT TO SEE IT. but specifically my fav dynamic with her is when someone ELSE is the one to like her first, it’s what she deserves.

-Kurogiri/aizawa/mic?? any variety of that is also 👌🏻 I also kinda wanna see kurogiri/all might bc. Dads. COME ON. they bond over ‘well, I raised him, and you want to have a part in his life now?? ok. earn it. prove it. I’ll screen you first’ or something LMAO they’re both genuinely concerned for the boy, and SOOO biased. let them bond.

-WAIT WHERE IS THE MIC/COMPRESS CONTENT. THEYRE BOTH DRAMATIC. ENEMIES TO LOVERS?? HELLO??? SOMEONE?? ANYONE. rarepair hours

-giran/twice is cute. like he was hyping him up so much and so ready to go save him...

-dabi/magne where is the content. when. why not everywhere??? I’ve also seen magne/compress which was cute!! or twice/magne? they’re the big sibs of the lov...

-dabi/spinner?? come ON dabi could get over his learned biases and spend time with him and they could hold hands. I want them to.

-dabihawks. Obviously bc the Drama. yes even still, don’t @ me. (also, shigahawks, seen some REAL interesting fics with it tbh) or spinahawks?? adding hawks to a ship is like adding extra chili powder. makes it SPICY dramatic)

-nine/tomura don’t @ me once again. both kinda afo’s playthings, nine obviously was the test for tomura’s new upgrades...they both love their friends...That Scene in the Flower field </3 hmmm tragicships are fun.

-tomura/mirko. more enemies to lovers. big fan of her and bunnies. remember when he wore bunny ears in bnha smash. (ok its crack but. CUTE.) 

-I’ve also seen shiganatsu and shigafuyu and I’m like. these are cute, but also Dabi’s reaction always makes me cry laugh. so good.

-MOST EVERYONE IN THE LOV IS LGBTQA+!!! heres my personal headcanons:

Toga: pan or bi (CANON BASICALLY)

Magne: transwoman (CANON BABEY) bi, leans towards men. (her crush on dabi in bnha smash... uwu content where)

Shuichi: gets sooooo flustered canonly, I think he’d go for the first person Who Hit On Him (I can see him being the target of those mean pranks where someone says ‘my friend likes you!!’ and the friend is like ‘eww!!’ :(((( ) he’s super hesitant for romance, lots of repressed stuff. gay but takes sooo long to realize it bc he thinks most women are conventionally pretty Aesthethically, feels obligated to Like Them, but has bad self esteem so never goes after them, then only likes (1) guy so hes like?? is this allowed?? is this allowed???? (HES LIKE. IN LOVE WITH SHIGARAKI)

Dabi: bi but rly hasn’t ever gotten to date anyone, so he’s actually more reserved about it and while he’ll tease, he absolutely is absent and kinda oblivious (again, I KNOWWWW bnha smash isnt canon, but. my god. when magne is hitting on him and he Just Doesnt Understand.) also hes ace

Tomura: doesn’t care. (just prob says ‘its whatever’) trans/nonbinary (i’M NOT PROJECTING, BUT. :’/) probably goes with like, the label queer if any but doesn’t care much for labels

Kurogiri: bi??? kind of??? I say kind of bc well, I hc U Know Whom as bi, I feel like thatd carry over but he’d be really avoidant to date anyone bc hes gotta Watch His Kid u know? this is gonna sound surprising but I think he’d be the type to be like ‘ok we can have a one night stand/fling BUT it cant get personal bc I have a Job to Do for my Son so don’t get up in your feelings’ and act a little coldly at first or very ..not personable... depending on who it was he’d prob turn around eventually, esp if that person valued his feelings/job :”)

Sako: that mans Not Straight. I hc him as gay and also trans :3c

Twice: Bi and HAS dated prob more than anyone else in the league imo, super comfortable with his sexuality and supportive of everyone else’s :)

ok that’s about all I can think of atm, come back in 5 minutes and my brain will refill with lov headcanons :3 thank you for asking!!

[megglepie]

OOPS okay I didn’t mean to get all up in my feels but I have a scene from the Bonnie & Clyde AU I wanna run by you.

I can’t believe I didn’t think of this song when you asked for recs for the playlist, but... Blood Bank by Bon Iver. This is a song I frequently listen to when I need to write emotional scenes and here’s the scene that just invaded my brain.

Idk yet how they get introduced so I’m leaving that plotline up to you, but let’s say Hizashi and Shouta meet. Shouta and Nemuri start going on heists with Hizashi and Oboro to get some extra cash (even tho Hitoshi hates it).

So maybe the third or fourth time they go on a heist, it’s a total bust. Like shit-hits-the-fan bust, maybe the bank teller has a gun or somebody throws hands instead of giving up easily. The gang makes it out, maybe little bruised, but not broken. They were a few towns over so Hizashi starts the long drive home -cue the song... (1/2)

oh oh oh angsty sappy feelies here we come 🥺🥺

real quick lemme buckle down and interject with their first meeting before i forget for the gazillionth time:

it’s mundane in a way, nothing as fancy or as wild as when hizashi and oboro met nemuri. as you said, after cloudmic meet nemuri, they pawn off the stolen car three towns over and return to the aizawa’s hometown with the cash. oboro and hizashi figure they wouldn’t have gotten that score without her so they wanna hunt her down and share the profit before moving on to somewhere else. so about a week and a half/two weeks later nemuri’s walking down an alley, heading home when oboro and hizashi pop up on either side of her like fuckin howl to sophie in his introductory scene in howl’s moving castle. oboro slings an arm over her shoulders and she gears up to punch his lights out but stills in recognition. oboro’s mismatched bright blue and yellow eyes are unmistakable after all. (i’ve attached his design for this au hehehehe i have many oboro thoughts....)

anYWAY. hizashi and oboro give nemuri her share of the money, she declines once for the sake of politeness but takes it eagerly after the formalities are dismissed. like fuck!! this is gonna be able to get shouta new boots! this is gonna feed them like fuckin kings!! she’s so excited and she throws her arms around hizashi and oboro’s necks and squeals in their ears. it’s nice and they make a plan to meet up again. and they do!! they gets drinks, they paint the town red, the boys introduce nemuri to a different kind of life. the risk of crime is nothing compared to the adrenaline high and the security it can provide her family. the power it gives her. 

shouta notices the influx of money, he can’t not! that first night, she came home and pressed more cash into his hand than ever before. so he asked for the first time in ages, “where did you get this?” and she just said, “a friend” and shouta could tell it wasn’t the truth but it wasn’t a lie either. he left it, didn’t press, and just bought himself the new shoes he’d been needing for months now. some part of him assumes it was just a generous client. an especially nice client with especially full pockets. and it keeps happening. hitoshi seems to be finally growing outward instead of only upward. shouta doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouse but this is out of the norm and he can’t help his curiosity! he wants to know whose dime they’re eating on dammit! 

meanwhile cloudmicnight are becoming fast friends!! nemuri mentions off-handedly to oboro that she has two younger brothers and he latches on right away “nemuri, i want to meet them!! please please please!!! are they just like you? mini-nemuris?” nemuri brushes him off, she’s hesitant to involve shouta with these two. she’s never asked him to make money for their family, she needs him to take care of hitoshi, she can handle putting food on the table all by herself. and god no she doesn’t want hitoshi involved in this, that just screams mess. so she ignores oboro until of course, oboro mentions it to hizashi and it’s two against one. unspoken leader that he is, hizashi gets want he wants, and if he wants to meet shouta and her kid brother, fine. 

shouta decides to snoop. it’s not just the cash flow!! nemuri comes home grinning like a fucking fool one time too many, something’s up. so shouta follows her into town one night, tells hitoshi he forgot something at the store earlier, be back in a while. nemuri walks through alleys. shouta keeps his distance. the sun sets and he moves closer. shouta watches nemuri embrace a man who looks their age. is this him? he’s a little young to be that loaded, right? the man is tall and his poofy blue hair sprouts out the top of an aviator-esque cap. is he a pilot? shouta wonders. 

suddenly a hand is gripping his shoulder and there’s someone speaking much too close to his ear, “you got business with ms. aizawa? or is there some other reason you’re followin’ her?” 

shouta whips around to face the man invading his space, his heart pounding, who is this? how does nemuri know these men? she doesn’t tell him anything!! shouta glares up at the blond man, “yes, i do, considerin’ i’m mr. aizawa.”

the blond’s stern expression falls straight into confusion and shock, “huh?” 

“shouta?! hizashi!” shouta turns to glare at his sister. 

“nemuri! explain!” he sounds petulant, yes, but he’s sick of being out of the know and playing house! he’s not a fucking child! he’s fucking 30 years old! 

“you’re married?!” the blond man, hizashi apparently, all but shrieks as nemuri and the pilot (?) make their way over.

“married?!” shouta and nemuri shout in unison. the pilot bursts into laughter, bright and airy, like a cloud on a sunny day. 

“zashi, i think he’s her brother” the pilot says lightly, he grins and holds out his hand to shouta. “nice to meet you, i’m oboro.” 

hizashi and nemuri’s eyes flick between oboro’s outstretched hand and shouta’s flabbergasted expression before they burst into twin fits of giggles. “of course!” hizashi gasps. nemuri places her hand on shouta’s shoulder, nudges him forward, urging him to shake oboro’s still offered hand. shouta grips it and somehow oboro’s smile widens even further. then nemuri turns him toward the blond man, now sheepishly flushing a pretty shade of pink and nervously twirling a lock of his long golden hair. shouta tries not to stare. nemuri’s tone is alight with something akin to mischief when she says, “aaand this is hizashi. hizashi, this is shouta. make nice.”

and boy do they.

TA-DA!!!! EMIC FIRST MEETING ACQUIRED and here’s the oboro design for this au:

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty One, “Timing”

Find all chapters to this story here! 

Check out the character survey from Becky’s POV I did recently! :-)

Warnings: Very brief mention of IVs (needles)

Song Inspo: My My Love by Joshua Radin (Click to listen)

                                    Sneaky Peeeeeeeeeky!

“A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one inch mark.

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats.”

“No. W-what are you doing here?” I stutter, unable to control my words. Or my thoughts. Or my emotions.

At the drop of my words, Harry’s face falls. His eyebrows. The budding smile on his lips. And the brightness in his eyes. But he masks it quickly. And it escapes my mind when he crosses the distance between us. His black slacks, teal geometric-patterned button down, and curls are a blur in the seconds that follow. Suddenly, his arms are around me and pulling me into him. With sleep still clinging to my mind, and unsure of what to do, I freeze. 

“Please don’t tell me you left work to drive 3 hours to come to Madley,” I confess quietly into the damp shoulder of his black peacoat. Shivering, his fingers run trails up and down my back. 

“Shuddup, I ‘ave a case t’morrow nearby in Wolverhampton . . . Jus’ lemme do sumthin’ nice fer ya,” he says, his soft words drifting over the top of my head. 

“I-I’m sorry. I just woke up and you caught me off guard,” I apologize meekly, feeling myself relax. My arms wind around his waist and lace themselves together over his coat. 

“‘s okay,” he hums. His hands pause and I feel them brush my hair away. “I know ya hadda rough night- well couple o’ days,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. My lungs still and I wait, wondering if he’ll kiss my head. But it doesn’t come, and I try to will away the disappointment beginning inside of me. I’ve become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t want to leave this time. Then it’s joined by the happy disbelief appearing wet in my eyes. 

“Couldn’ stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, an’ figured I had t’ come up ‘ere t’morow mornin’ anyways. Wha’s an extra night hurt?” The first few words do it for me, and there I am spewing tears all over his shoulder. They’re not a waterfall, but the emotions growing inside of me feel that way. And they’re here, because he is. 

He holds me tighter against him, and I feel his cheek rest on my head. Holding on tight to his coat, I let myself and everything I’m feeling melt against him. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here,” I confess in a trembling voice interrupted by sniffling. 

“I think I do do, ‘coz you were there fer me tha day o’ tha funeral when I needed a friend. An’ at tha hospital. Ya showed up fer me, Becks, an’ I wanted t’ do tha same fer ya,” Harry reveals softly from above me. My lips bend into a happy smile amongst the tears that come harder at his words. “I brought dinna, ‘cuz I knew ya prolly hadn’t eaten. ‘s luck that I found ya atta vendin’ machine.”

His precious laugh greets my ears as his fingers tickle up my back. The bunches of fabric leave my hands, and I step away to search for those green eyes. After a few seconds, I find them staring down at me. They’re blurry behind the tears, but soon his smiling face sharpens. 

“No mo’ tears, ‘kay? Le’s go eat some dinna an’ find  sumthin’ good on tha telly,” Harry whispers, running the pad of his thumb along my cheeks. Nodding, his hand envelopes mine and we go to find a sitting area.

The halls are deserted besides a few nurses checking in on patients. Familiar medical-sounding beeps sound throughout the hallway. After guiding the way for Harry as I wipe my cheeks, we soon find our dining table. Or rather a sofa with a little table. 

“I hope fish an’ chips ‘s alright,” he says, doubt filling his words. 

“Of course they are. Did you get them from Maggie’s over on Fifth?”

“Yeah, I think so. Li’l shop with photos coverin’ tha walls?” he questions as he unpacks the brown paper bag. 

“Yep, that’s the one. They make the best fish and chips I’ve had. And I would know, because I grew up eating these ones my entire life.”

“Well I guess ya would know then,” Harry relents, shrugging his shoulders with a toothy smile. 

Whispered ‘thank yous’ float between us as we pass each other food and napkins. With two cups of water from the cooler a few steps away, we dig in. 

“No kiddin’, these are good. ‘s always tha family owned shops that make tha best ones, innit?” Harry mumbles with a mouth full of food. I reply with an ‘mmmhmm’, trying not to laugh at the crumbs speckling his chin. 

The crispy, buttery cod melts on my tongue. With my free hand, I grab hold of the gray remote sitting on the table beside me. 

“Hey, ‘s my turn t’ pick what we watch,” Harry whines, stealing the remote from me. 

“Rude!” I retort, but any words I had left to say collapse into laughter. Licking his thumb, he peeks over at me. A sly grin stuck to his lips. 

Shaking my head, I look away and pick up a chip from the paper tray in my hand. When my eyes return to him, a ketchup-covered chip sits in his hand. Meanwhile, his face is screwed up in concentration at the telly. I smile, and then notice his reflection in the dark window on the other side of him. Kicking his foot with my right, he turns to the left to look at me in confusion. 

“Just pick something!” I tell him, my palm turning up to help me talk. His dark curls dance atop his head as it goes from side to side. 

“Oh hush, you. Cantcha letta man think?” he quips before feeding the chip past his cherry lips. 

“No, not when it takes you an hour to pick what to watch,” I reply, yanking it from his hands. 

“Heeeey! I was jus’ gonna pick that episode o’ Friends!” 

“Wait, you like Friends?!” I nearly yell, my head snapping to look at him. 

“O’course! Who doesn’t? I grew up watchin’ that show with me mum an’ sista,” he answers. With those words, my heart does a somersault in my chest. Oh my fuck, I’m falling again. “Wha’? Do ya not like it?”

“No, I-I love it. I grew up watching it, too. It’s like my comfort show - I watch it when I’m happy, sad, mad, excited- you name it,” I reply slowly, engrossed in gathering ketchup onto my chip. When I hear his murmured ‘me too’ from a mouth full of food, the devil and angel inside of me go crazy. For once, they seem to root for the same team. 

“Favourite characta?” his words greet the air effortlessly. He licks the salt and grease from his thumb, and I suddenly regret looking up. The things you do to me, Styles. 

“On the count of 3?” I ask, and his chestnut ringlets bounce with a nod. 

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3.”

“Phoebe!” we both say in unison, sending us into fits of giggles. 

“There’s nuthin’ betta than her on dat show. She’s hilarious, plays guitar, ‘s a surrogate fer her bloody brotha, an’ ‘s gorgeous,” Harry explains, and I’m following with every word. And with each one, I feel the butterflies in my tummy flutter again. For possibly the tenth time already tonight. 

“All of the great jokes and catchphrases from the show are from her: Regina Phalange, Smelly Cat, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, ‘I don’t even have a pla’, Gladys the framed doll, and that stupid taxi. She’s blunt and so funny, but she’s so sweet and would do anything for her friends,” I continue, watching him nod emphatically as he picks up another chip. 

“Couldn’ ‘ave said it betta meself. Oh I love dis episode where they’re stuck at tha beach house. Poor Phoebs findin’ out tha truth ‘bout her mum dat way, tho’,” Harry comments, his mouth falling into a delighted and then sad O. My eyes follow his to the screen of the telly where our attention is held for the next twenty minutes. 

My shoes only stop squeaking when I stop in front of the garbage bin. After tossing the greasy paper bag, I rub a pump of hand sanitizer into my hands. I wince at the awful sounds my shoes make as I try to walk quietly down the tiled hallway. The snoring greets my ears before I see him, but when I do, I smile. With careful steps, I pluck my backpack from the couch before leaving the room. 

“He still sleepin’?” Harry asks, looking up from the Friends marathon from the telly. We scored! 

“Yep,” I answer, plopping down onto the sofa beside him. 

“Good,” he answers, slumping down further into the gray cushions. My backpack drops with a thud to the floor after I got what I needed. “What’re ya doin’? ‘s eleven-thirty, love. Tha’s no time t’ be doin’ homework.”

“I know, but I need to submit an assignment before I forget. It’s due at midnight,” I answer, seeing his nod out of the corner of my eye. 

My laptop wakes with its usual jingle, and I watch my browser load. The audience laughter fills my ears at a humorous line from Chandler. Surprise, surprise. The maroon and navy blue colors of my uni’s website appear in front of me. Within a few moments, I’m on the web page for my course. 

“Wha’s tha assignment?” Harry inquires, his eyes never leaving the telly. A laugh creases his cheeks, making me smile. But I’m not very sad I missed what’s so funny, because he makes up for it. 

“Um, it’s an essay about Thomas Cromwell and his theories and stuff,” I reply, opening the page for assignments. 

“Ah, I see they ‘aven’t changed coursework much from my day. Cromwell ‘s bloody obvious when ya start talkin’ ‘bout British law.”

“I know, it’s like the professor didn’t even try when drafting this assignment,” I comment with a small titter. Relief washes over me when I get a message saying my submission was successful. And something else too from being able to talk to him about law so easily. Something akin to how a hot chocolate makes you feel on a winter’s day.

I glance up and find Harry losing it with laughter. There’s a fleeting temptation to ask him to clue me in. But a laugh tingles on my lips when I find what he’s laughing at. Monica’s crying as she holds onto Chandler’s arm, an ocean scene in the background. 

“Can’ believe Joey actually peed on Monica.” The words leave Harry’s mouth in between chuckles rather sloppily. 

“He was just trying to help!” I comment, unable to stop laughing either. 

“But it doesn’t even help! They say it makes it worse even,” he laughs, rubbing his forehead.  

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to my laptop screen. After a few clicks, lines of text cloud my eyes. My eyes roll into the back of my head at their appearance. I find it nearly impossible to hold back a groan. 

“What’re you gripin’ ‘bout ova here?” Harry questions with teasing in his tone.

“I have to read the entire case of Haughton v. Smith for a test, and it’s so confusing. I mean, working with you brushed me up on a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. But still, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me,” I huff, my chin falling into the palm of my hand.  

“Alright, lemme see what part yer at,” he says in a quiet voice. I try to ignore the regret budding inside of me at what I said about working at his firm. And how it makes me feel, and probably him, too. I don’t know why I ever bring it up, because sometimes it feels like when somebody else brings up the ex-boyfriend, or something. The sofa cushion dips as he closes the space between us. The angel and demon inside of me erupt into synonymous cheers when his arm goes around me. 

“God, did you forget your glasses or something, Grandpa?” my question sputters from my lips in a cackle, watching him squint at the screen.

“Oh shuddup, an’ I mean it,” Harry quips, looking away for a moment. When I see the reason why, instead of a laugh consuming my thoughts, something else does. For some fucking reason, my heart warms at the sight of him unfolding a pair of mottled brown Pantos glasses. He tucks the brown case into the inside of his blazer, his peacoat on a chair. “Ya ya, laugh all ya want at me an’ me readin’ glasses.” 

But when he looks down at me with them settled on his nose, I don’t laugh. “Why aren’t ya laughin’ anymo’, hmm?” he questions. 

“I think they look really nice on you. They make you look handsome and sophisticated,” I tell him slowly, and it’s undeniable the pink that pinches his cheeks. 

“Well ‘s ‘bout time fer dat t’ happen, only took me twenty-nine years,” he jokes, bringing a smile to my lips. My head goes from side to side as I close my eyes, my cheeks bunching from happiness painting my lips. Yeah, it’s about time for a lot of things right about now. “Alrigh’, lemme look what part yer at fer real now.”

I nod, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. Pitching my head back, I feel it bump into his arm. Nevermind my fucked neck, I return my eyes to the screen to try and forget that his arm is around me. But they immediately refuse and slowly trail to Harry, his face mere inches away from mine. 

Okay, no, stop thinking about his lips and what they could do, I tell the demon inside of my head. 

Becky, you could. You so know you could do it. 

Shut up! He’s just helping me with my homework, that’s all this is. 

Oh yeah? And when are you going to let yourself think about the real reason he’s here, huh?

I can’t do that right now. 

Yes, you can! Maybe if you think about it, you’ll realize how good of an idea it would be to let yourself kiss him. I’m sure he’s thinking about it too.

Just stop!

His thumb and forefinger knead his bottom lip. It bunches together in little waves as his eyes flit across the screen. Whiskers the shade of his curls are scattered across his face. They’re dense atop his upper lip and around his chin. And God, I can’t stop thinking about them. Wanting to touch them. Feel them on my face- okay stop it, Becky. 

“Well yer mostly at tha end, so wha’ doesn’t make sense t’ ya?” Harry finally says, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me. 

“I know, but I feel like I don’t know what I just read. And the verdict is contradicting to me,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders. 

“Well maybe it’d make more sense t’ ya if ya weren’t lookin’ at it at almos’ midnigh’, love.”

“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only time I have lately with everything. I’m afraid to email my prof again saying I need an extension when it’s due tomorrow. I’ve needed a lot of them lately. I just wanna get it done,” I respond quietly, looking to the telly awkwardly. It’s always hard when the truth comes out, and the emotions that hang on to it. 

A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my left eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape. 

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one-inch mark. 

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats. 

“Kids used to make fun of it when I was little. They’d call it a worm under my eye, because of its shape. It used to be more pronounced and bigger when I was little, but it’s still pretty noticeable,” I answer, adding in an eye roll that he laughs at. 

“Aww, poor Becks. But if it counts, I don’ think it looks like a worm. ‘s cute on you,” he adds seriously, pinching my cheek. That makes me look over at him, and I already know that I’m blushing. 

A small ‘thanks’ leaves my lips before my eyes dip to my laptop. Close to a minute of silence grows between us before he breaks it. “‘Kay, so Haughton vs. Smith found that ya can’t commit tha crime o’ handlin’ stolen goods, if tha goods they’re talkin’ ‘bout weren’t actually stolen. ‘s an important case t’ know, cuz it was ‘ventually ovaturned by tha Criminal Attempts Act o’ ‘81. Ya’ll neva be able t’ forget tha connection between tha two, issa given. Ya don’ need t’ worry ‘bout that law now tho’, they basically mean tha same thing.” 

“Thanks for explaining it, I hope it’s enough to help me pass the test on it,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly. 

“Open tha test, an’ ‘ll help ya with it.”

The second my eyes land on Joey’s body covered in sand on the telly, they whip back to Harry. “Really, you’d help me?”

“‘Course I would. Tha’s what ‘m here fer. An’ it wouldn’t hurt t’ see if I still got it.”

“You’ve been a lawyer for years, and this is pre-law, so of course you do. And not to mention, ranked as one of the best in London,” I reply smiling, clicking open a new tab. I suspect how my words will make him feel, because they fill me with the same emotions. Pride. Happiness. Astonishment. And more pride. 

“Well, I do me best,” Harry titters proudly. A cocky hum leaves his lips as he brushes off his chest. A laugh sputters from my lips that I can’t contain. “Heeeey, don’ be laughin’ at me.”

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself when you start dropping dad jokes,” I respond nonchalantly, clicking on the tab labeled ‘Assessments.’

“Just pull tha bloody test up an’ le’s get it ova with,” he huffs, amusement still lacing through his words. 

“Awww, is it past your bedtime already?” I pout, turning my eyes to him. His lips smush together and I hear the smallest of squeaks get past them. “You know you like my grandpa jokes, don’t lie.”

“Shuddup, li’l one, an’ open tha goddamn test already,” he huffs. If anybody else heard him, they’d think he was mad at me. But even as my eyes cast over the column of tests from this course, I know different. I can hear it in his voice - the joking, the molasses, the affectionate teasing, and the friendship. 

Wow, nice choice of words there, Ms. Denial. 

Shut up, devil. 

“I am not little!” I retort in a high voice, making my two tabs appear as two windows on my screen. Side by side. Cheating time!

“Becks, yer like 5’5, if that.”

“No, I’m not! I’m 5’6, you liar!”

“Ya, cuz that one lousy inch really does a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Harry counters, his voice melting into a goofy one. I respond to it with a hearty laugh that is soon accompanied by his. “Yer still a li’l one t’ me, love.” 

“Fine, Grandpa Harry.”

+

The annoying sound of a laugh track pricks at my ears. Blinking hard, the room around me is blurry. But after a groggy minute of blinking, it begins to sharpen. I don’t remember the lights getting turned off, but the telly screen burns my eyes. Rubbing them, I moan from tiredness. Dropping my arm, I feel it hit something. Looking down, I’m confused. When I lift my head from whatever it was resting on, I find what I was laying on. And well, what was also laying on me. Still is. Her face scrunches adorably before relaxing, nuzzling her head against my shoulder once more. 

Becks. 

After combing my hair off of my forehead, the lock screen of my phone wakes me up a little more. Especially when I see that it reads 1:18 am. Fuck, I need to get to my hotel and go to bed. I have my case tomorrow. But when I hear a noise and find the culprit, all of those thoughts wash away. An incoherent sound runs off of her lips, ones that are so close to me. Fuck, again. But when my eyes scan the rest of my body, I realize that she’s all over me. Well, almost. Her right hand rests on my chest as she leans against the back of the sofa. But her pretty little head of dark hair is laying on my shoulder. My arm is around her, holding her close to me. I can feel her other arm tickling my side. 

Memories float to the surface, and suddenly I’m back at the hospital in London. In December. A phone call woke me from my slumber beside her on the sofa. The both of us curled up on opposite sides. Sleep clinging to my eyes and begging to me to return to it. Her shoulders rising with every soft snore, but it was the most daintiest one I’d ever heard. It felt like my heart was being squeezed tighter with every move I made to leave her. When I draped the second blanket over her. And how much it hurt to move the hair off of her face. To press a kiss to her unknowing head. But nothing compared to the anguish I felt grow with every step I put between us. 

Blinking hard, the dark room materializes around me again. Her precious snores welcome my return to the moment. A smile brings my lips upwards as I watch a crease grow between her eyebrows. She’s too goddamn adorable. And that’s why I came, isn’t it? Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist her. I can’t say no to Becky. When she called me crying and a mess worrying about her dad, I didn’t know what I was doing until I was putting the town of Madley into my GPS. I guess The Beatles were right with that one song, and plenty of others. She’s really got a hold on me. And before I could begin to stop myself, her skin is like velvet under my thumb. I rub the crease away with the pad of it, and suddenly my head dips. My lips barely brush her hair when she groans below me. 

“Harry?” she murmurs, lifting her head from my shoulder. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

She yawns, moving away to look around sleepily. But soon she returns back to my arms, cozying up to me once more. And I couldn’t be more thankful, or conflicted. The latter word drills into my mind as I rub a hand down her back, sleep trying to coax me back in, too. 

“We fell asleep,” she mumbles, her honey voice coated in that very word. Fuck, does it make me feel things. Things that I’d much rather not. 

“Yeah, ‘s one in tha mornin’.”

“Shitttt,” she sighs, sitting up fast. Her growing locks pour over her shoulders covered by a crewneck jumper. Faded pictures of balls from different sports are scattered across the heather gray fabric. Like something my dad wore when I was a tot. “You have your case tomorrow.”

“‘m fine, I already dropped me stuff off at tha hotel an’ got me key,” I tell her, missing the warmth of her against me. And I miss the fact in those words alone of what I’m missing. Her in my arms. “But ya should prolly get sum sleep, too. Seems like ya’ve been missin’ it lately.”

“I’m okay, just lots of homework,” Becky says, running her long fingers through her wavy hair. 

“‘d offa me hotel room, but ‘s half an hour ‘way in Wolverhampton. An’ there’s only tha one bed,” I tell her, unsure of why. I blame it on the sleepy brain. 

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll just sleep on the couch in his room. It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” she assures me. Her arms crack as she stretches them toward the ceiling. I can’t help myself when the baggy jumper rides up, exposing the slightest of her milky white tummy. Fuck. But just like that, it’s gone in a flash. If only my feelings worked that way. 

It’s like she has some sixth sense that I’m thinking about her, because her eyes cast over to me. It’s hard to make out their ocean blue in this dark, but I know they’re there. I can picture them if I need to, because I do it all the time - trying to make myself remember what they look like. The exact shade. The speckles of darker blue amongst the color. 

“Yer welcome,” I return. The tired smile I get in return melts my insides like butter. But that’s how I feel when I’m around her, and that’s how much of a hold she’s got on me. 

Shocks of electricity dance across the back of my hand. I don’t need to look down to know her hand is on top of mine. And how it’s making me go crazy. She’s only a few inches away. I could do it. Before I stop myself, I begin to lean in, and she watches me do it. But with only a few seconds left, we jump apart at the sound of a ringtone. 

Embarrassment covers me like a dark cloud, among other nasty emotions. My head falls, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Pulling out my phone to distract myself, it doesn’t do that great of a job as I hear her talk to somebody on the phone. Dammit, I was so close. With a hand in my hair, I scroll through emails. Deleting some and saving others. 

“Sorry, that was Robbie. Just checking in, since I forgot to update him, I guess,” Becky tells me, lifting my head with her voice. 

My head only goes up and down, avoiding eye contact. Because I can’t muster it after what just happened, or what didn’t. 

“‘s late, ya should get sum rest,” I announce, getting to my feet. Picking up my coat, I slip it on before I dare to look at her.

She smiles shyly at me, sleep hanging around her eyes. Even rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her jumper is precious. And her legs jittering in her faded blue jeans. Vans the shade of her favorite color donning her feet. 

“Yeah, you too,” is all she has to say.

Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. For a mere second, I entertain the thought of trying again. But fuck it, she’s so far away right now, figuratively and literally. I can catch a hint of her scent sticking to me, and it makes me sad to realize. 

“Go get sum sleep, ‘kay?” Are the only words I can think of as I walk up to her and pat her arm. 

“Yeah, you too, Harry. Careful driving.”

“Thanks, Becks, I will. Sweet dreams, love,” I mutter, looking at her over my shoulder. 

And I keep walking, and leave her behind. Regrets coursing through my ears, and emotions tugging at my seams. The tiredness coating my every thought and action, only make it all the worse. I’m not sure if I want to wake up more for the car drive to the hotel, because then it will all feel even more real. And discouraging. 

“Harry?” stopping in my tracks, I hear her call my name. Spinning around, I feel her before I see her. Her arms surround around my waist and her head comes to lay against my chest. All within seconds. “Thank you . . . for coming.”

A pain sounds in my chest when I hear the emotion in her voice. And it takes all of me to not echo it, because I know I could. And that I would. Instead I say, “Yer welcome, Becks,” and I do at least one thing I wanted to do tonight. Dipping my head, I smooth down her hair and press my lips to her hair for more than a few seconds. 

The sweet smell of orange blossom greets me, and my smile is havoced by pain. Her warm breaths tickle the skin at my neck as my hands lace together at the small of her back. Her arms squeeze me around the middle before releasing, and she lets go of me. I think about trying again, but the thought is fleeting when she begins to walk away from me. 

And I let her do it. Once again. 

+

The burbling of the running water fills my ears. Well, besides the sound of the football match. Surprise, surprise. And the next sound. His cheering. It makes me smile as I wipe my hands with a paper towel. 

“What’s the score now?” I ask, walking back into the room. His eyes don’t go to me at the question, instead they remain on the screen. 

“Six-two. It doesn’t look too good for ‘em,” my dad replies snarkily, a devilish glint in his eyes. But it’s there, and that’s all that matters. It’s what makes the smile stick to my face. 

“Don’t let your food get cold,” I say, bending over to dig into my backpack. 

“I’m done eating. You can have the rest, Ree,” he replies just as I feel the smooth handle I’m searching for.

“I’m okay, thanks. I was probably going to check out the special in the cafe.”

“Oh so only I have to eat the hospital food?” my dad whines, pouting at me when I look at him. 

With a laugh, I remark, “I’m eating their food in the cafe too, you dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, chemo brain,” he replies, tapping a finger against his head. A striped green hat keeping it warm. His arm returns to the white blanket pulled up to his waist. Light shines in his eyes and his arms lift into the air when they make yet another goal. 

Whoops and hollers leave his chapped lips. But this morning, they’re pinker. And so is his skin. If only in the slightest, I notice them. Running the brush through my knotted hair, I yawn as I watch him. A patterned hospital gown covers his upper half, with the sleeves just coming to above the IVs in his left arm. Fluids and meds. The antibiotics. Yippee. 

But the thoughts are mulled over when I look to his plate sitting on the moveable tray beside him. It was scrambled eggs, toast, applesauce, and milk this morning. And he ate nearly half of it, even if it took about half an hour. But I want to blame part of that on the football match his eyes are stuck to. 

“I’m going to see if I can find your doctor. I had a question,” I tell him, dropping my hairbrush back into my backpack. 

“Ree, don’t worry about it. He’ll come by later,” my dad insists, but I stand from my chair regardless of his answer. 

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways.” 

He hums a reply I can’t decode, but I hear his teasing about blocking the telly when I walk by. Over my shoulder, he flashes me a small smile before returning to yelling lazily at the referees. Nurses and doctors pass me, going to and from rooms to the nearby nurse’s station. Tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, I search for the shock of white hair of my dad’s doctor. 

But no such luck. 

As I approach the nurse’s station, sounds of beeping, call lights, and murmuring voices fill the air. But another sound stands out from the rest. And I hear my name, or well my last name. It takes me a second to locate where it’s coming from, but when I do there’s a flutter in my chest. And I know I’m in trouble, or maybe that I’m just realizing it now after all of this time. 

But I don’t save him right away, and instead I observe. Confusion sews his eyebrows together over those misty green eyes. One lone curl tickles his forehead, breaking free from his damp hair. His black peacoat is draped over his arm clad in a warm violet blazer. A dusty rose button down peeks out from its collar, and I smile. I don’t even know why. But as the seconds tick by watching him talk to the nurse, I think I know why. 

“Looking for me, Styles?” I pipe up, stepping forward with my hands hidden away in my hoodie.

Harry’s eyes fall from the nurse and pan over to me. A lazy smile works its way onto his face quickly, only interrupted to thank the nurse. 

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, turning to walk towards me. 

“What are you doing here? You have your case today, you said,” I respond, playing with the sleeve of my black hoodie. The cracked decal of Robbie’s old band covers the front. 

“Came t’ bring ya out t’ brekky. Me case doesn’t start ‘til tha aftanoon, bug,” he responds with half of a smile, pinching my arm affectionately. And there’s that nickname, again, I think as my insides turn to mush. “Well jus’ down t’ tha cafe if tha’s alright. I saw sumthin’ ‘bout biscuits ‘n gravy, an’ sumthin’ smelled mighty delicious when I came in.”

“That sounds great,” I say, a smile inching its way up my lips. The wet ends of my hair knock against each other, and my chin. “I’ll just let my dad know,” I tell him, turning around to walk away. 

But after only a few steps, a sudden thought brings me to halt. It wills my feet to turn around and look at Harry. “Would you like to meet him?” I ask tentatively in a meek voice. “He’s doing a little better this morning, but I think that’s thanks to the Arsenal match on the telly.”

With what appears to be a shaky smile, he replies, “‘d love t’. Hope ‘s not me Manchester United boys playin’ ‘gainst ‘em.”

Waving a hand towards me, he closes the distance between us. His leather boots squeak from the last bits of melting April snow. It’s only a few moments before I peek my head into his room, and low and behold, he’s still transfixed by the match. 

Rapping my knuckle against the door, I get his attention before saying, “Hey, can I steal you away from your precious game for a few? There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, adjusting his blankets before the telly’s volume falls. Over my shoulder, I shoot Harry an encouraging smile. He returns it, but I can see the nerves showing through. 

Pushing open the door fully, I walk in and he follows from behind. 

“Dad, this is Harry Styles. My uh, former boss I’ve told you about,” I fumble for words, giving a magician-like wave to him. Well, the right words. “He stopped by last night and brought me dinner. He has a case today in Wolverhampton, and we’re going to get breakfast downstairs before.”

A weary smile curls at the corners of my dad’s lips. Nodding, his dusty pink lips part, “Ah, so this is the fella you were with until all hours last night,” he jests, pulling nervous laughter into the air. “Yes, it’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you, son. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Becky, and for your well wishes. It’s meant a whole damn lot to me, and I know for her too.” 

Okay, dad, let’s not board the emotional bus yet. Or maybe, ever.  

Happy laughs float around the room as Harry steps forward, rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands. “‘s a pleasure t’ meet ya as well, sir,” he rasps, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand firmly. 

“Call me Chuck, Harry. I’m not that old yet, although sometimes it feels that way,” my dad jokes, widening the smiles on all of our faces.

“Yes, ‘course, Chuck. I’ve also heard loads ‘bout ya, all good things, so no worries. Ya’ve been in me prayers an’ thoughts ova tha last 7 months. Sure raised a great daughter, ya should know.” 

A permanent smile warms my cheeks as I shyly look over to Harry. He meets my eyes and smiles back at me. Winking, he shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Thank you, son. That’s mighty good to hear, although I’m not too sure about that son of mine sometimes,” he laughs, soon getting a scoff from me. 

“Oh I mean Robbie, too. I’ve only met tha bloke once or twice, but I was impressed. Certainly since I was surprised t’ find out Becky hadda twin,” Harry comments, his eyes burning a hole into my cheek. 

“Yes, I think I’ve heard that story. Their mother and I were pretty surprised to find there was two, also,” he chuckles. “But Ree likes to do that sometimes.”

Shaking my head, I look away and to the Spring sunshine. It seeps in through the cracks in between the window shades. Their soft laughs fill my ears before Harry’s voice does again. 

“Yeah she’s a spitfire, alright,” he comments, and finally I meet his smirking eyes before they return to my dad. “But ‘m glad t’ hear yer doin’ a bit betta. Hopefully they can get a good handle on dis soon, an’ you lot can go home.”

“Thank you. We hope so too,” my dad nods, running his thumb along the buttons of the tv remote. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to be here with Becky . . I know it means more than words to her.” 

Looking away to the floor, his words find the chink in my armor. I feel the lump rise in my throat along with memories of last night. Luckily, the tears stay away and I get away with it. 

“‘Course, ‘m glad I was able t’ come an’ be with her. Dunno if she told ya, but she was there fer me when my grandad was in tha hospital befo’ he passed. An’ well, I know how much it means t’ ‘ave sumbody there,” Harry murmurs, almost giving a reason for the tears to make an appearance. But they don’t, and I’m repeating ‘thank yous’ inside of my head. 

“I’m pretty proud of my little Rebecca Ann, and it only grows more every day,” my dad comments, flitting his eyes over to me. His words make my cheeks tingle with a new blush and because I know another pair are on me, too. 

“Yeah, she makes it ratha easy,” Harry agrees softly, pulling my attention to him. The gentlest smile sits atop his lips, and a sad sweetness twinkles in his eyes. 

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your match. We’re going to grab breakfast before everybody else gets the same idea,” I pipe in, unsure of when and how to sever the moment. But the look in Harry’s eyes does something to me, and I don’t know what to do with it. 

We exchange short goodbyes before I’m following Harry out of the room. The rising volume of the football announcers voices send us on our way. 

“Rebecca Ann, huh?” Harry smiles beside me, the nurse’s station in our rearview mirrors. 

“Go ahead and make jokes about it. It doesn’t even sound like my name, I don’t know. I’ve only ever went by that for forms, when I got in trouble, or like on the first day of school and graduation. And the Ann is just my middle name, I don’t have a two parter,” I explain hurriedly, surprising myself when I don’t hear one of his delightful giggles. Tearing my eyes away from the poster at the end of the hallway, I look to him. And he isn’t laughing, which confuses me. 

“There’s no jokes t’ be had. I think ‘s pretty, yer name. Figured ya were a Rebecca, but wasn’t sure. Nor did I know yer middle was Ann. Tha’s my mum’s name, ‘ve always loved it,” he tells me, coming to a stop in front of the gunmetal colored doors of the lift. The sickeningly sweet look on his face sends the butterflies in my tummy to flight. Again.

“Oh thanks,” I almost blurt, pressing the button to go down. But then as we step into the welcoming lift, more come to me. “It was my grandmother’s name. It always made me feel closer to her, like I always had a piece of her with me.”

“Tha’s nice. ‘ve always liked it when parents carry on family names like dat. It makes me think ‘d like t’ do tha same with me own kids one day,” Harry continues as I watch the doors shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. If only for a few minutes. But still. 

“Me too.”

“So nobody ever calls ya Becca?” Harry inquires, catching my attention. 

“Eh, not really. Maybe Skye sometimes, and my grandma Ann did, but not much anymore.”

“Hmm maybe ‘ll hafta use it then,” he quips, but then he wears a confused smile he pulled out of thin air. “Eh I dunno, actually. Ya’ll always be me Becks,” he finishes, making my heart do a dance. And fueling the angel and demon having a party inside of my head. 

“Yeah, I agree. Anything else would sound weird.”

“Ya look like ‘im, ya know. Tha eyes, tha hair, and tha shape o’ yer face - bloody spitting image ya are. ‘Specially Robbie,” Harry acknowledges.

“We get that a lot, but thanks, I like to hear it. Sometimes I can’t see it, though,” I recall. “Which parent do you look like?”

“Um, dunno. I get comments ‘bout lookin’ like both o’ me parents. I guess I mostly ‘ave people say I look like me dad with sum o’ my mum’s features. Which sounds wild.”

“Yeah, I can relate with people saying I look like my dad. It’s like, oh thanks for saying I look like a boy,” I laugh. Turning to look at him on my left, a small one sputters from his smiling cherry lips. 

��I know, ‘s weird.”

“I can see it, though. How people think you look like him,” I tell him. When I watch his lips settle into a silent, straight line, I feel instant regret. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, ‘s okay. Jus’ hard hearin’ people say ya look like sumbody ya don’ like.”

A small ‘oh’ passes over my lips before I can stop it. My eyes leave him and go to the changing red number above my head. Words bubble up inside of me, and I tell them to stop. But then I can’t. 

“I think I know how you feel,” I murmur, daring to look over at him, her face flashing in my mind. His far away eyes lift from the floor and pan over to me. 

I try not to lose myself in their infinity of green, but it’s worthless. And soon I am, and thoughts of last night leak from my memories. 

I know it’s at the back of his mind too. That almost kiss. The one he tried to initiate, and the one I want so bad. Five months ago, I don’t know if I would’ve. But now in this moment and in this elevator, all alone with him, I couldn’t want something more. 

Or somebody. 

[kookiesjhope]

Our Song I (kth)

Pairing: Kim Taehyung/Reader

Genre/au: songwriter!au, college!au, y/n has lil bit of anger issues, cutie tae, cheeky tae, songwriter!taehyung, professor!yoongi, bandmate!jin and bandmate!jungkook, roommate!jimin and roommate!jungkook, some namjin, also some sope

Tags: fluff, angst, e2l ig

Words: 3.7K

a/n: i wrote this years ago on wattpad and thought about ‘re-touching’ it in a different way and changing the characters ig haha. idk if i should continue it tho

Summary: You were a music major college student and part of an infamous local band. You were running late to a class when someone bumps into you and knocks all your stuff down. Little did you know that that encounter would change your life forever.

I look at my watch, five minutes, that's all I have. I start running up the stairs, my jacket still on, my backpack hanging from one of my shoulders. I start to regret my decision to wear combat boots today, they're heavy as hell and don't help me go any faster. When I make it to the fourth floor, I have to stop to catch my breath. Fuck, I'm so outta shape. I take a mental note to start working out more often. I glance at my watch, three minutes, damn it.

I run down the hall and turn to the right... "Watch ou-" I start to say but it's too late, he slams straight into me sending all my music sheets flying across the floor.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he starts to apologize, looking up from his phone.

"You dumbass!" I yell at him as I drop my backpack to the floor and get down to gather my sheets. "I don't know why people have to text and walk at the same time."

"Look, I said I was sorry," he says as he bends down to help me. I get up and sigh. Great, now I'm really late.

"Here." He hands me two more sheets. I yank them angrily from him. I begin to organize my sheets as I start walking away.

"Miss, you might want this too!" I turn around and notice he's holding my backpack. He comes closer and I look up at his face for the first time finding a deep brown hue staring down at me. I stop for a second, feeling a shiver go down my spine as they remind me of... nevermind.

"Thanks." I try to say as kindly as possible as I grab my bag and place it on my shoulder, rolling my eyes at his stupid cheeky smile. I turn on my heels and start running down the hall, those brown eyes still fresh at the back of my mind.

++++

As I enter the room I see the professor sitting next to the piano looking at some music sheets. His messy black hair peeking above the papers. He puts the sheets down and looks at me as I step closer. He's wearing his usual black sweater, hiding all skin up until his fingers. He's young, much younger than any other professor I've had here. Apparently he's some sort of musical writing genius and got admitted to the Korea School of Arts when he was only 16 years old. Rumor has it, that he has already written and produced numerous songs for various famous artists. He looks as if he's just another college student and I think that's why he's so strict and serious, otherwise no one will take him seriously.

"Miss Y/L/N," he says taking a look at his watch then looking at me with his eyebrows raised, "You're late."

"I know, but I can explain." I look at him with pleading eyes. I'm already screwed, but I have to at least try.

"I've been very clear about my rules." He crosses his arms in front of his chest, I can't help but stare at his long fingers. "You should know by now that tardiness is unacceptable with me."

"But, it wasn't my fault! I was running down the hall and this guy-" "If you were running down the hall, that means you were already late." He arches one of his eyebrows.

"I was going to make it on time, I swear, but this... stupid guy... he was texting and he didn't see me and my sheets went flying everywhere and..." I act the whole thing out but he just sits there staring at me with a blank face and I sigh defeated.

"Your story is quite amusing, but rules are rules. I don't make any exceptions."

"Professor Min..."

I stare at him in silence, this is it, I'm going to lose my scholarship. I might as well say goodby to my degree right now. There's absolutely no way I can afford this on my own. I already have my share of student loans and my mom, well, she already helps me enough. I feel my eyes sting and I look up, holding back the tears. I've worked so hard for this, it's not fair. He can't do this to me.

"This is so unfair." My voice cracks. For fucks sake, do not cry in front of him.

"Life isn't fair, y/n." He grabs back the music sheets he had been reading before.

I hate him. I swear I hate him as much as I hate the guy on the hall with the haunting brown eyes.

"Yeah, believe me, I know..." I turn around and walk towards the door. What does he know about life not being fair? He's 24 and he's a college professor with a successful songwriting career and he's telling me that life isn't fair? Who the hell does he think he is?! I was raised in a shitty neighborhood by a single mother who had to work her ass off to support me, I know very well how unfair life can be.

I step out of the room and lean against the wall. I let the tears fall down as I slide down and sit on the floor. This is my third year here and I've worked so fucking hard to keep my grades up so I won't lose my scholarship. I spent long hours on this songwriting assignment and it was the midterm grade. There's no way I'll pass this class now. I have to figure something out. I refuse to give up just because some professor won't give me a chance.

I'm walking down the hall when I hear someone talking in the distance.

"No, mom, I'm alright. Everything's fine, I just miss you."

I immediately recognize the deep voice. I feel anger starting to boil inside me. I want to run up to him and punch him or kick him in the balls or something. I hear his voice getting louder as I continue walking. He's sitting on the floor, talking on the phone smiling; his long legs bent in front of him. I notice he's wearing some weird leather slip-on shoes, who the fuck wears that?! I'm in front of him, tapping my foot angrily, arms crossed, nose flaring, eyebrows arched. He slowly looks up at me and his eyes widen.

"Mom, I'll call you right back. I love you." He stands up and my eyes follow suit, craning my neck upwards. He opens his mouth, but I just shove my music sheets at him angrily.

"Thanks for nothing." He looks at me confused and I just turn around and keep walking towards the stairs. I can hear the sound of his light footsteps behind me. I walk faster.

"Hey! Wait!"

I stop at the top of the staircase and hold up my hand.

"Please stop!" I say angrily without even turning to face him. I can hear him slightly gasp, but the sound of his footsteps stop.

"Don't you want your sheets?"

I sigh and look up to the ceiling. "Keep them... I don't think I'll be needing them anymore." I walk down the stairs without looking back.

++++

I close the door behind me as I enter the apartment. I take off my jacket, my backpack, and leave my boots at the door. I sit on the sofa next to my roommate who's sitting there watching TV.

"Hey, how did it go?" he turns to look at me. I don't answer, instead I just stare at the TV in front of me and sigh heavily. "Damn, okay... Do you want a beer?" He offers getting up. I nod as he walks towards the kitchen.

Park Jimin is my best friend. He knows me better than anyone, probably better than my own mother. He and I grew up together and we're basically like family. When we both go accepted into college, our families helped us look for an apartment off campus so we could live together and wouldn't feel so homesick. We have another roommate whom we went to school with back home, Jeon Jungkook. Between a little help from our three families, our scholarships, student loans, and part-time jobs, we manage to pay the rent and all the other expenses. The three of us and our friend, Kim Seokjin, have a band that we started back in high school and we do small gigs every Friday at a local bar near campus. Sometimes we get an extra gig on Saturdays. We don't get paid much, but it helps.

I hear Jimin humming some tune while getting the beers, unlike me, he's always in a good mood. I place my feet up on the sofa to get comfortable.

"Two beers coming up!" Jimin comes into the living room, two beer bottles in one hand, a bag of chips, salsa on the other hand, and a big smiles plastered on his face. “Thought you might be hungry too.” He winks at me and puts the bag and the salsa jar down on the coffee table.

“Thanks babe.” He sits down beside be and I rest my legs on his lap.

“So... do you want to tell me what happened?” He says softly without looking at me. His hands slowly picking at my toes.

He listens intently as I tell him about my collision in the hall and what happened with the professor. His eyes never stop looking at my face and my every movement. Always so attentive, looking at me with those soft eyes.

“Well I don’t know, but that professor sounds like an asshole to me.” He shrugs his shoulder and takes a bite on another chip, his brows furrowed. “I mean... you weren’t even that late and it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but he said there’s no exceptions.” I try to imitate Professor Mins voice and Jimin starts laughing at my failed attempt so I punch him in the arm.

“Ow! That hurt.” He rubs his arm up and down. I know he’s just messing around with me so I roll my eyes at his stupidity.

“So when I came out of the class room, I ran into that dorky guy again.” I grab some chips from the bag.

“Did you punch him?” He opens his eyes wide as he takes a huge gulp from his beer. He’s always such a gossip.

“No,” I laugh. “I felt like it thought.” I admit with a smirk. “I did throw my music sheets at him and walked away.”

“You what?!” He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me. Shit, I can tell he’s mad at me. “Y/N are you insane? That’s your music. Please tell me he gave it back.” He says very seriously, that’s when I know he’s really mad at me. His soft gaze no longer in sight.

"I-" I look down avoiding his gaze and scratch the back of my neck nervously. Now I really regret what I did.

"No... He tried to give them back, didn't he?" I nod. "But you were so pissed that you didn't accept them." He's clearly annoyed. I just look at him and he knows the answer, he knows me too damn well.

"I know, Jimin, I'm an idiot. You know I don't think straight when I'm mad. Now this guy I don't even know has my music and I have no fucking grade on a midterm assignment which means I'm going to lose my scholarship." I feel the frustration building up again, tears threatening to come out any second now.

"Hey..." Jimin moves closer to me and grabs my hands. My gaze immediately goes to the touch. "Don't say that. You're not an idiot." He cups my face with his left hand and strokes my cheek with his thumb.

"I sure feel like it though." I close my eyes and sigh.

"No, you're a fighter, y/n. Don't give up this easily." He grabs my face between his hands, his soft gaze focused on mine. I nod and try to calm down, but the tears just keep coming down."Listen to me, you're going to talk to the Dean tomorrow. I'm sure they'll give you a chance." He wipes away some of my tears and lowers his head to mine. "For God's sake y/n, you're one of the best students in your department.”

He's right. I should talk to the Dean tomorrow, I'm sure he'll be on my side. Why didn't I think of that? This is why I love Jimin so much. He always knows what to do. I don't know what I would do without him...I nod and wipe away my tears. I move to sit on his lap and give him a tight hug. "You're the best, Jimin..." I kiss him on the cheek before I get up to go to my bedroom. I'm in a much better mood now.

++++

"Jimin! Come read this!" I scream from my bedroom and I hear his light footsteps get louder as he enters my room. He sits next to me, resting his head on the headboard. He takes my laptop and stares at me with his eyes wide. "Well... read it, dummy." I shove him slightly.

"Dear Miss Y/L/N, I hope this email finds you well. After some consideration, I've decided to give you a second opportunity to present your assignment. Please be at my classroom tomorrow at 10:00 AM SHARP. This will be your last chance, so please don't be late again. Regards, Prof. Min." Jimin looks at me, his eyes beaming with excitement.

"I know, I still can't believe it. I wonder what made him change his mind." I shrug.

"Maybe he's not an asshole after all? Or maybe he thought you were hot." He moves his eyebrows up and down.

"Seriously?" I arch one of my eyebrows.

"Why not? I mean, you're hot I guess." He puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses my cheek.

"I guess?" I lean away from him. He's looking at me some sort of way, I don't know how to describe it. I've never seen Jimin as more than just a friend, but the way he was looking at me made my stomach jump a little. I shake my thoughts out of my head and roll my eyes. "Go back to your room, Jimin."

++++

"Miss Y/L/N, nice to see you on time." I try not to roll my eyes at this. Professor Min is wearing his usual black attire, but his hair seems messier, almost as if he just woke up. He's not the kind of guy I would find attractive, but shit he looks really good today.

"Yeah, well, thanks for giving me this opportunity. I really, really appreciate it..."

"Well, you should probably thank Kim Taehyung, he's the one that convinced me to do this." Professor Min shyly smiles at me.

"Kim Taehyung?" Who the hell is that?

"Yeah, the guy you gave this to." He hands me some music sheets. My eyes immediately widen, they're my music sheets, mine. But how did this person know who to give my sheets to? This is all kind of odd.

"H-How-" I start to ask, but I get cut off.

"Taehyung's an old friend of mine, I helped him get an exchange. Anyway, he told me the whole story, which, of course, I had already heard from you." He points at me and I just nod. He shakes his head. "I have to say, the poor guy felt really bad for you. Then he showed me those and I just couldn't say no."

"Thanks I guess..." I slightly blush at his subtle compliment about my song. I guess this Taehyung person is not such a dumbass after all.

"Tell me, what was the inspiration for this song?" He rubs his chin.

"A friend," I say plainly.

"A friend? Interesting. Must be a very special friend then as you clearly have strong feelings for this person."

"Yeah, he's my best friend." I start to feel a little uncomfortable. I don't like talking about my personal life, especially with a professor.

"Fair enough." He starts scanning my music sheets again. "You seem to be very passionate when you play, and that's good, but you must be very careful with that. You don't want to rewrite your song each time you play it." I nod. "Overall it's a good song. Now, the lyrics on the other hand..." He gestures with his hand as if to say they were so-so. "They're not too bad, but I know you could do a lot better." He looks at me and offers a sweet smile, I smile back. "I'll be posting the grades on Monday." He gets up and opens the door for me to walk out."Oh, and another thing." I turn around to face him. "Never lose that passion." He smiles at me.

"I won't." I smile back.

++++

“Ok, guys, let’s do this shit!” We break free from our group hug and walk towards the stage. We are playing a gig tonight and the place is packed with students celebrating that midterms are over. I’m a little bit nervous to have such a big crowd.

We get on stage. Jimin, Seokjin and I plug in our instruments while Jungkook warms up with the drums. I turn around to face the crowd. I see a lot of new faces mixed within the regular crowd. I know this is going to be fucking awesome.

We play our usual set and when I’m doing a piano solo I notice a tall figure standing close to the stage. I look at him and find his haunting brown eyes staring straight at me. I quickly look away but I can feel his intense stare still fixed on me. I can feel my heart start beating faster. Those eyes give me the chills.

When the song is over, the boys are already on the stage. Jimin hands me a beer and furrows his brow.

“You alright?” He pulls the strap of his guitar over his head.

I gulp down half of the beer while I nod. I grab my guitar and Jimin just stares down at me, worried as I gulped down the other half of the beer.

“I’m fine, JImin...”

We play for the next half hour. I try to avoid looking at him, but he’s there every time I look at the audience. Not only is he tall enough to stand out, the clothes he’s wearing make him stand out even more. He even smiles at me a few times. I can’t bring myself to smile back; I’m too disturbed by his damn eyes.

Once we were done, we all head for the bar. Jimin tries to get the bartender’s attention while Jungkook goes to grab a table for us. Seokjin goes directly to his boyfriend and I’m left standing alone waiting for Jimin. I feel someone tap my shoulder, so I turn around.

“Hi.” He gives me a big boxy smile.

“Hey.“ I force myself to smile back. I try not to look him in the eyes, which is not that difficult because he’s probably like 7 inches taller than me. Instead I focus on his chest, which grabs my attention. His shirt is unbuttoned almost half way and I can see his chiseled chest, his necklace mixing perfectly with his lightly tanned skin. My mouth waters a bit, but I stop my thoughts as I finally look up at him, those dark brown eyes slightly more beautiful than last time I looked at him.

“Sorry about yesterday. I talked to Yoongi and-”

“You don’t need to apologize... Thanks, by the way, that was really nice of you. I’m the one who should be apologizing for being a bitch about it.” I quickly say and he smiles again. Damn it, he smiles a lot.

“You’re welcome...” He looks like he’s going to say something else, but he’s interrupted.

“Finally! I got the alcohol, y/n!” Jimin screams. He’s holding a bucket full of beers. He looks down at me then at Taehyung, and then looks at me again arching one of his eyebrows.

“I’m Kim Taehyung.” He extends his hand politely.

“I’m Park Jimin, nice to meet you.” Jimin shakes Taehyung’s hand, he then puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. “Hey, thanks for helping y/n out with that ass-” I nudge him on the ribs, “...assignment.” Jimin looks at me and mouths ‘What?’ and I just roll my eyes.

“No problem.” Taehyung laughs. “Your band is awesome by the way.” He smiles, again. “Do you only do covers?” He looks at me now.

“Yeah... We’re a cover band,” I say dryly and look down at my feet.

There’s a slight awkward pause until Jimin giggles. “Hey man, you’re welcome to join us for some beers. We’re sitting right over there.” Jimin points to the table where Seokjin and his boyfriend, Namjoon, are sitting. I look at Jimin and open my eyes wide. What the hell is he doing? I swear I’m going to kill him.

“It’s okay. I’m with some friends, but thanks anyway.” I let out and internal sigh of relief. Taehyung looks at me with a smirk on his face. He steps closer to me, placing his hand on my lower back. I can feel his hot breath on my neck as he closes in on me. “Nice to see you again, y/n.” He whispers on my ear and pulls away. I have never felt this kind of adrenaline. I just nod and he walks away.

Jimin looks at me with eyes wide as we sit down on the table. “What?! He looks nice and he’s got a cool smile.” Jimin imitates Taehyung’s smile, his eyes disappearing. I roll my eyes at him and grab a beer.

“Well, I don’t like him.” Jimin looks at me furrowing his brow.

“I don’t know.” I shrug my shoulders. As I think about it, the only thing that slightly creeps me out about Taehyung are his eyes. “I just don’t.” I look across the tabke just to find the familiar pair of brown eyes staring back at me from a table nearby. He’s sitting with Prof. Min, a very happy skinny guy with extremely black hair, and a girl. I quickly look away and focus on Jungkook who’s saying something about our number of followers on twitter, but Taehyung’s brown gaze keeps haunting me from a distance.

[spiralledcupid]

Spoon Views: My Hero Academia Episode 10

Symbol of Peace

Welcome back to Spoon Views. And this episode was,,, the one we’ve all been waiting for. I put makeup on this morning, and now I wish I hadn’t because I cried twice like the lil bitch I am. Before I start I just wanna say there might be a little less analysis this time because I just did my first two a level exams and my lil brain is all tuckered out so, just know I’m trying my best lmao,,, So, with that out of the way, let’s get into it !

Okay, first things first, for some reason I always thought the bar would be like a basement bar? But

Apparently it’s on the second floor. I mean, it might just be me being a dummy but at the same time, oof. Weird.

Moving on, let’s talk about something I haven’t discussed before on Spoon Views (I think).

And that’s staging. It might not be intentional (because lets be real most of literature analysis is bullshit I’ve studied it for two years I Know), but this shot can reflect the distance between All Might and Endeavour, with Endeavour looking up to All Might, or up to the position he quite desperately wants. Also, this shot shows Endeavour’s hair colour, something we don’t usually see due to his flames. And we all know that in pretty much every episode this season, Bones have tossed us a Dabi is a Todoroki hint. So maybe,,,,

Speaking of Bones, they did a fantastic job on All For One.

I mean, everything about him was creepy, but the clapping in particular just kinda creeped me out more than anything. I have to say though, in the manga I remember him calling Magne “my dear” when she addressed him, which increased the creepiness factor (for me anyway), but, at least in the translation I watched, he didn’t do that, which made him seem a little more aggressive and therefore less all-out creepy. But that’s just a matter of opinion rather than anything serious.

Away from All For One, I also wanted to talk about Best Jeanist in the terms of Stain’s ideals.

On first glance, Jeanist sorta comes across as one of the ‘fake’ heroes; he’s obsessed with appearance, and put Bakugou down because of the way he looked and acted, despite him having heroic intent. He also seems to have awarded himself an award he invented 8 years running. But his actions in this episode show us a different story. He sacrifices himself to move the other heroes out of the way, getting himself hurt in the process. I mean, this of everything shows the flaw in Stain’s ideals, because Jeanist (someone who he would perceive to be a face hero) willingly sacrifices himself for the other heroes.

And what happens to him is gory af

I’m not usually afraid of supernatural based things but I may have to change that where All For One is concerned bc that power Should Not Happen.

Anyway, away from my personal scardy-cat nature, here’s a question that’s been playing on my mind ever since I first read this bit.

Is All For One dying?

We know he has a longevity quirk that’s enabled him to survive all this time, but at the same time, he’s been raising Shigaraki as an inheritor for his quirk and seemingly his entire criminal enterprise, and for some time he’s been choosing Quirks that fit Shigaraki. I mean, if we wanna go really deep into personal theory, I actually think all for one and one for all began as the same quirk, and due to the evolution of one for all via the passage of users, the quirk was able to evolve while all for one stayed stagnant… I mean, I can fully meta this, and if u want it drop me an ask !

I’ve seen a few people talk about the abusive relationship All For One has with Shigaraki and, although I’m not denying what he did is abuse it IS, the type of abuse needs to be focussed on.

I’m almost sure that All For One was probably never physically abusive to Shigaraki. It’s obvious Shigaraki has a heavy dependence on him as a father and/or mentor figure, and this relationship imo is unlikely to come about through physical abuse. Instead, the abuse was probably more emotional. Shigaraki’s complete dependence comes from first a lack of emotional development and second because he’s most likely never been able to depend on anyone else. This is probably to prevent Shigaraki gaining opinions of his own, therefore making him the perfect tool against All Might. Furthermore (spoilers guys, spoilers), it gives him the fury and vengeful urge to lead him to taking over All For One’s place in destroying the hero industry. Still abuse tho.

Away from analysis, I love how Bakugou’s still throwing his anger issues around at the scariest criminal boss in the world.

Like, he just doesn’t back down and that’s something, as a living doormat, I can get behind. What a love.

I also love how much of a good friend Iida is.

He grabs both Midoriya and Todoroki, the two who he already knows are willing to risk themselves after the Stain fight. I just,,, love him.

No commentary here but

Gosh darn this is a good shot !! so cool lookin

But, during the first part of the scene, I felt so bad for Bakugou, having to watch his idol up close seemingly meet his match.

Bakugou idolises All Might because he never loses, so to see him meet someone who can match him blow for blow must be extra terrifying for Bakugou. Poor kid.

He’s still doing his smile as well

Y’know, the one everyone talked about last episode where Bakugou was desperately trying to maintain a smile the way All Might does… God I just want this kid to have a good time.

His dodging tho

Cool as SHIT Bakugou has fighting skills wowee

This is also when Bakugou’s (spoilers again) guilt for what happens next begins in my opinion:

He knows All Might can’t fight while he’s there, and maybe All Might wouldn’t have gone over his limit if he were able to fight with his full power from the start… God, I know I’ve said this about 60 times but poor Bakugou.

And, finally, we get to the bit…

The bit where my tears first began to fall…

In all seriousness, I wish they had kept the “It has to be you” line, because that was iconic, but it was still a sob-worthy scene. I know everyone has already waxed lyrical about the hand scene so I’m not gonna (and this is mostly analysis anyway, and there’s frankly not much in that scene that isn’t already obvious) but it was,, absolutely fantastic, hats off to the animators.

But I also love how Bakugou still found it in himself to bitch

You better go far, my stubborn boy.

And then seeing how happy Kirishima looked now they had got Bakugou back

So cute !

Also, while we’re here, can we get a cheer for Mt Lady?

Just letting Compress slam straight into her head like,, omg,, icon I love my wife.

Back to the villains side of things, it’s no secret I love Shigaraki and this bit was the second time I cried in the episode.

He’s just one of those people who always seems to lose out and even tho he’s shitty, I just want him to achieve something like,, good,, redemption arc when,,,

I don’t actually think he’s gonna get a redemption arc but that don’t mean I don’t want one !! Gimme.

On the same topic, I just wanna know

What was he gonna say? (any theories feel free to drop them!!)

And, to round off:

@ any anime only readers, have u made the connection? Bc,, oof

 Anyways, that’s all I have for y’all this week on Spoon Views!! It’s been a tough ol week, so pray my exams pick up next week and that I can find a job.

Speaking of a job (and my lack of one), I finish college soon and I will hopefully be opening commissions as well as putting out some multi-chaptered fics, but if you wanna help me out, I have a ko-fi  !!

Thanks as always,, see u next week,,

[moonraccoon-exe]

Gladnis AU(10 year time skip tho) where Ignis gets his sight back, and the first thing he sees is Gladio. But 32 year old Gladio and his reaction is like "Oh my gods you've gotten even more beautiful,"

I received this back on Monday, while I was in school, and let me tell you, dearest anon, IT MADE MY ENTIRE EVENING AND NIGHT AND THE REST OF TUESDAY BECAUSE GODS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

I was sat there in the classroom and just casually checked the hour, saw the entry, read it and I was just like “Aaaaw ;______;” and couldn’t focus for like ten minutes AND IT WAS FANTASTIC I regret NOTHING, ahahahaha *evil gladnis laugh*.

Seriously, though….this scenario is…so perfect?!?!

I’m sitting here, reading this again and feeling like it’s the first time all over again and I just- *deep breath* this is so gods damn amazing and I can’t stand it and I’m just hyperventilating becauSE 

*DEEP BREATH*

*ugly sobbing*

THIS IS SO PURE, GODDAMMIT, I’d love to turn this into a proper fanfic but time won’t let me and I just ajsdfd gods damn ;A;

You know what would make it super extra fluffier? The fact that maybe Gladio’s a bit scared of Ignis’ reaction to seeing him again. ♡ ～(‘u^人)

Wanna add it a little angst? It happens after Noct’s sacrifice.

And we make it a tad bit bittersweet? We make Ignis looking at Gladio for first time a surprise for Gladio himself, surprise of sorts, I guess. 

So maybe someone has found a way of healing Ignis’ injuries and blindness, and he decides to take the risk. So there’s the Gladnis post-story, finally leaving in peace, together, with no more duties than live for themselves once more. When they scheduled Ignis’ surgery or whatever process it can be to give him back his sight, he and Gladio spend an entire evening discussing and sharing happily what things Ignis has to see, where Gladio has to take him, where they’ll travel for Ignis to see again, the people he should see and their change, and of course, the first thing that Ignis should see.

The conversation turns a bit sad, rather bittersweet by that point, and there may be some silence. And then, Gladio suggests it.‘Dawn. The first thing you should see should be dawn. You should see how precious it is. Noct left the most precious, most beautiful dawn for us to see. You should see that first.’

It was harsh for everyone. Prompto sometimes still tears up in the mornings, and he hasn’t been able to return to Insomnia ever since Noct’s funeral. Gladio sometimes finds himself to wake up and find out he had been crying midsleep.But he knows how deep it affected Ignis in particular.Prompto was the best friend, and Gladio the older brother and sworn shield, but the thing with Ignis was that he literally grew up only for Noctis; Ignis basically didn’t live, all that he ever did since he was 6 was only to aid Noct’s life. He did it proudly and joyfully, but that was the truth; Ignis did nothing other than attend Noctis. Noct gone, somehow the biggest part of what Ignis used to be was no more. So it was pretty harsh on him. Maybe not more than in the other two, maybe just different, but definitely a particular kind of pain.

So Ignis doesn’t even reply. He just nods in silence, serious. 

Sometimes, in the days waiting for his surgery or whatever brings his sight back, when the mood was lighter, Ignis said that he was eager to see Gladio. Sometimes, he said that was the first thing that he wanted to see. Sometimes, he said that ‘after dawn’, the first thing he wanted to see was Gladio. He insisted that he wanted to see it, first or not, but he was so, so eager like he had not remembered to have ever been before about something. He wanted that, he wanted, he wanted. 

And Gladio would joke about it. Would give away comments the ‘But let’s be careful, my beauty may be too bright and could blind you again’ (don’t worry, Ignis doesn’t take that as rude and just delivers a joke back).But sometimes he would just chuckle or give a vague agreement.Because, truth is, he’s a bit scared of what Ignis will think.

At first he had not thought about it, but as the day got closer, Gladio had started to look at himself more often in the mirror. At first it was a glance or two. But he soon found himself overthinking and overanalyzing his looks, staring at himself more than he had ever done before, look at spots, and he starts growing a bit anxious about it. Because he’s young, but not as young as when Ignis last saw him.

He’s wrinkle free (for gods sake, he’s just 34), but he knows he doesn’t look like a brand new young man. And his scars, gods, did they look better when he was 23 or will Ignis see them the same? And his hair…Gladio liked it much better than when he was younger, but he’s now senselessly thinking on it and whether he looks as good as he thinks or not really. And what about his mustache asojdsofdj should I shave should I not shave and whataboutthis and did I have this spot before and whatisthisthing and whatwillIgnissay  gods FUCK  (Come on, we all know older Gladio looks AMAZING, but he doesn’t see that like we do, so…).

So Gladio grows nervous on that. Because he sees Ignis and gods, dear Astrals above, he’s just so sure Ignis is like wine; he just gets better with age. But what about him? Does he get better, too? Maybe it’s that Gladio had seen Ignis all across that time and he didn’t notice his change in a snap but rather step by step But Ignis…the last that Ignis had seen of him was when he was 23. Eleven years is quite a number. 

So the day finally happens. The whatever process required of Ignis to keep the eyes bandaged for at least 12 hours, so they do it this one evening, and the morning after, before sun comes up, they wake up as arranged, in an excited but silent air, and they get up to be prepared. Gladio drives Ignis to the Citadel and takes him to the rooftop, one of the highest spots in the Citadel to watch in the distance. The drive is mostly quiet, but the joy is almost tangible. Eleven years in the dark, finally fixed. 

And so, the moment soon comes. Gladio takes him close to the edge, facing East, and both talk quietly every now and then, a few comments here and there, before Gladio guesses it’s time. So, quietly, he tells so to Ignis, and turns him around, standing behind him, and Gladio himself starts undoing his bandages. Once they come off, Gladio keeps them to his eyes a few moments.

“Ready?”

“As much as I can be.”

Finally, Gladio removes it full this time. 

Ignis still keeps the eyes closed for a moment, and they start blinking. And so, he opens them.And he can see.And there’s that tiny dot of light in the horizon.And he can see it.He’s sensing it, and seeing it.

And here there could be two options that I’ll melt into one because #timeandspacelol. So Ignis watches the sun start to rise. Sees the little dot starting to turn bigger, and watches the sky turn from black to a line of golden, that eventually paints the sky in red. And it keeps growing. It almost feels like music, quiet and bittersweet. There’s light going in every direction, born from the astro king. From the sun of dawn.From the King of Light.From Noct. 

Ignis watches it, watches all. The sun, its beams, the sky, its colors, the clouds, the change of palette, gradual and eventual, the buildings of the distance, the tiny silhouette of the outside wall, the sea….it’s beautiful. Impossible to look away.

Yet, he does. He looks away.

Out of nowhere, Ignis turns around over his heels, eyes closed. Gladio’s a bit startled at the motion, because he had not expected Ignis to look away from the sun of dawn for at least fifteen more minutes, but there he was, facing him now, eyes closed. Gladio feels his stomach drop to his feet, and some black hole behind the lungs swallowing his organs, because he’s impossibly nervous. He feels like this is the most important event of his life, that Ignis is about to see him again. He should be excited, but he’s not. He’s scared and nervous.

Without seeing, Ignis takes his hands without saying anything, and he brings them up, placing them quietly and gently on his face. Gladio’s still startled and nervous, but he doesn’t question Ignis and only keeps the hands on his beloved one’s face. 

And so, smiling softly, with Gladio holding his face, Ignis opens the eyes.

And he can see Gladio.And he’s seeing him.And he’s seeing him.

And the reaction is immediate; Ignis’ soft smile immediately vanishes, and his expression softens in a way that makes Gladio’s heart stop and ache inside. If he had to describe it in some way, he would say Ignis’ expression dropped. Because it felt like someting falling and shattering. Like a child running downstairs with the biggest of joys reflected on his tiny smile because he’s about to see Santa, but suddenly walks in on his dad putting the presents under the tree.It feels like disappointment. 

So Gladio says nothing and tries forcing a smile at him, but he can’t help the clear signs of worry and some sadness in his expression. Ignis doesn’t seem to catch it; he’s still staring at Gladio in awe. Soon enough, the recently healed man moves a hand up and places it on Gladio’s cheek. It hesitates an inch from his skin, before landing, and Gladio feels a bit rejected at the motion. Ignis’ hand slightly trembles against him. 

“My gods…Gladio…”

Ignis sounds breathless and he still has that shocked expression. Gladio eventually lets go of Ignis’ face, but the man’s other hand catches one of Gladio’s midwair and keeps it gripped. Gladio stares at him, trying to hide all his fear, and he suddenly feels something inside himself drop when Ignis’ eyes get all watery.And, suddenly, Ignis is smiling at him in a way Gladio had not ever seen before.Like a groom seeing his bride in her dress for the first time.Like Prompto stares at dawn.Like those videos of people reuniting with their family after ten years.Like Gladio had died, and had just come back to life after a decade.

Because besides smiling, Ignis starts crying.

“Gladio, you’re even more beautiful than before…”

And, of course, that takes Gladio off guard. All that he can do is look at Ignis eyes widened and mouth slightly opened. He grips back on the hand that Ignis is holding, and he looks a bit puzzled at the shorter man. Some moments later, Gladio smiles at him with a little exhale escaping him, and he feels his eyes start to water as well. Both grin at each other, and Ignis is still staring at him and holding his face and still crying. His eyes move everywhere, on every single inch of Gladio’s face. 

Gladio just lets him, and every second he does but widen the smile, because Ignis is looking at him like Gladio really is the most beautiful thing  in the entire universe. 

“Iggy, sweetheart, you’re missing the rest of dawn…”

“The past where it belongs” Ignis tells him. “Noct is gone and I have to accept that. But you’re still here. With me.” Ignis takes both of Gladio’s hands with his own. “Enough of looking at the past. I want to look at my present and future. And both, my darling, both are you.”

It’s then when Gladio drops his own tears. It’s joy, of course. But it’s so much joy it also hurts. Like excess of ice burns, the amount of happiness is so great it’s aching. Ignis had always had a way with words, had always been a silent romantic, but this was far more than Gladio could handle. It was not just their romance; all this involved Noctis, too, their loved friend and brother. It involved Ignis’ accident and injury. It involved everything they had lost and won, everything they had to let go, and everything they were earning now.

Gladio, crying as well, nods at him only, because he can’t speak anymore. He brings Igni’s hands up and kisses them, before Ignis lets go of one of them just to hold Gladio’s face again, caress it gently, clean away his tears while Ignis himself cries. 

They had planned to look at dawn that morning. That was literally the only thing on the list. But none look at it. They look at each other’s crying eyes and nowhere else for as long as sunrise happens. None look at their past. Both focus on their present and future, both held in each other’s eyes and just that. 

And the sun shines particularly soft and bright that morning.Like it’s happy to see them like that. Carrying on, together, and finally out of the dark.

Aaah…

Anon.

Anon this is a beautiful scenario. Thank you so much, anon :’)

Edit: Well, damn, this is longer and more formal than I intended.Almost-a-fanfic. ‘I don’t have the time’, I said. ‘I’ll keep it short’, I said.