#was in the mood for a bit more serious drawing and the speech was really inspiring

[ifindus]

are we not going to talk about the fact that the president of the united states during ww2 held a speech for Norway?? the speech is called "Look to Norway". I don't know if other countries got a speech like this from him but we sure did💌🇳🇴

Vaguely remembered this, so had to look it up - very beautiful speech really 💖 It was held in relation to name one of the US's ships after the Norwegian King, and is about how the Norwegian story during WWII should inspire other Nations to fight, stand strong, and never give up ✨

The entire speech (not very long) for anyone curious:

Your Royal Highness, Mr. Ambassador:

If there is anyone who still wonders why this war is being fought, let him look to Norway. If there is anyone who has any delusions that this war could have been averted, let him look to Norway. And if there is anyone who doubts the democratic will to win, again I say, let him look to Norway.

He will find in Norway, at once conquered and unconquerable, the answer to his questioning.

We all know how this most peaceful and innocent of countries was ruthlessly violated. The combination of treachery and brute force which conquered Norway will live in history as the blackest deed of a black era. Norway fought valiantly with what few weapons there were at hand—and fell.

And with Norway fell the concept that either remoteness from political controversy or usefulness to mankind could give any Nation immunity from attack in a world where aggression spread unchecked.

But the story of Norway since the conquest shows that while a free democracy may be slow to realize its danger, it can be heroic when aroused. At home, the Norwegian people have silently resisted the invader's will with grim endurance. Abroad, Norwegian ships and Norwegian men have rallied to the cause of the United Nations. And their assistance to that cause has been out of all proportion to their small numbers. The Norwegian merchant marine has lost some 200 ships and 1,300 seamen in carrying the supplies vital to our own and Allied forces overseas. Nor has the Norwegian Navy been less active. Norse fighting ships battled valiantly but vainly against the invader—destroying one-third of the German invasion fleet before they were overwhelmed by superior forces. Right now the blue cross of Norway flies on the fourth largest Navy of the United Nations—a Navy whose operations extend from the North Sea to the Indian Ocean.

It is today the privilege of the people of the United States, through the mechanism of the Lend-Lease Law, to assist this gallant Navy in carrying out its present heavy duties.

Your Royal Highness, as a token of the admiration and friendship of the American people toward your country and her Navy, I ask you to receive this ship. We Americans, together with the millions of loyal Norwegians, are glad that this ship is being given today the name of the King of Norway—a leader well versed in the ways of the seas, a true leader who, with his people, has always stood for the freedom of the seas for all Nations. May this ship long keep the seas in the battle for liberty. May the day come when she will carry the Norwegian flag into a home port in a free Norway!

[whatwouldvalerydo]

The theory of blow magic - The merry boy band - 8/9

Warning: minor sexual references and jokes

Once more lazy to edit a picture or else we would have waited another week if not more.

Characters mentioned here or belong to: @flareshin @lifeofkaze and @kc-and-co

Walking inside an empty classroom, a few pair of eyes rose when Phil entered, the words “Welcome honorable knights.” Falling from his lips as if they were commonly used amongst them on a daily basis. Dylan rolled his eyes when several papers were presented on top of the table they gathered around, Phil offering a broad smile “Today is the first day of this adventure and I need your skills if we are to vanquish the evil that has possessed this castle. Once we are victorious, I will attribute a bag of carefully selected items as a reward. Until then I require your skills as we embark on this journey.”

“Who are you and why are you talking like that?’ Jonathan asked.

“Why am I here?” Lachlan chimed in, taking a seat, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes skimmed the papers.

“I thought my speech will add more to set the mood. You’re all in your last year and there’s a mystery, aren’t you excited?” looking at his friends, he added a tad sheepishly “Not even a bit?”

Nodding, Jonathan offered an encouraging smile “We are, of course. But we just don’t know what you want from us.”

Pointing a finger at the papers, Phil added in a dramatic but serious tone “To help me piece these together. Jonathan, you can use your imagination and drawing skills to redraw the pictures that are faded. Lachlan you can help us decipher the riddles and you Dylan can be our critical eye, see what we can’t.”

“I’m out, thanks but no thanks.”

Not looking at Dylan, Phil took a paper reading out loud “One shall handle with care such an instrument for it is delicate however when handled correctly, the most beautiful sounds shall be produced.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Lachlan picked up another page “Come on Dylan, what does that sound like to you?”

Sighing, he sat back down “I don’t know. A blowing instrument of some kind? Let me see.” Looking at the picture in the corner, he tilted his head “It doesn’t look complete. Maybe there’s a continuation on another page?”

Taking out a blank page, Jonathan already started doodling away, adding lines and shapes based on their descriptions.

“Maybe you can draw portraits of criminals for the Ministry since you’re so good at drawing.” Phil said after an hour of going back on forth, reading line after line.

“I don’t think so.” Jonathan mentioned pressing the page against his chest, his face going red.

Trying not to laugh, Lachlan elbowed him “That doesn’t look right.”

Looking at him panicked, he almost yelled “You think?” causing Lachlan to laugh out loud.

“Engorged, phallic shaped, member…” looking at everyone once he regained composure, he just shook his head amused at the situation “Guys, I think this book is a joke someone played long ago. It’s about” stealing another glance at Jonathan, he reeled himself in slightly “a different type of blowing. Something tells me you might actually not want to get to the bottom of his…curse.” He added the mandatory air quotes, Phil giving him a grave look.

“Quest.”

“Whatever.” Looking at everyone, Lachlan raised his hands “Really? That’s a…” urging Jonathan to show his drawing, a fully erect penis represented the highlight of his hour of labor. Phil blinked a couple of times, Dylan smacking his forehead while adding.

“So this is a nasty book on how people in the Victorian era went on about it?” squinting his eyes at some text, he sighed “That’s an awfully complicated way of explaining how to…no, no, I’m done. DONE.”

“But I want to break the curse.” Phil added with the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes Jonathan had ever witnessed.

“Trust me buddy, this might not be something you want to really discover.”

“No 100% completion?”

Shaking his head “Afraid not.”

“Unless you really want the entire picture on complicated sex and foreplay.” Lachlan added with a smirk, Jonathan crumpling his drawing and throwing it in the bin.

“Butterbeers anyone? I’m buying if we don’t speak about this ever again.”

“Deal.” Dylan said.

A day later as they were attending one of their classes, professor Winger held up Jonathan’s crumpled drawing, addressing the class “I’m curious to know who decided it was a good idea to use the classroom for such reasons. And if you don’t come clean there are spells I can use to track down the student that decided to have fun in my classroom.” Seeing Scarlett raise her hand, he looked at her “Yes miss Tempest?”

“Wasn’t me but I wanted to say nice dick. Thank you for sharing that professor.”

“And that’s detention for you, anyone else?”

[totiredtowrite]

Nonononono hear me out right? Imagine Oikawa, one of the most powerful demons around, snags a reader who wants to be a hero and just kind of says 'aight this ones mine now'

Powerless

Warnings - Mentions of killing, the word blade, a religious joke here or there, cursing, referenced nsfw, the req was short but I managed to make this long af, sorry if the ending is trash :(, might do a part 2

Note: I have one mood and this is it

Male Reader - Fem Readers DNI, Respect The Boundaries of the Writers. ✨This isn't about you✨

Demon King Oikawa Tooru.

Infamous for a...multitude of things. For one, his power. Two, the astounding number of people who lust after him. Cults and chapels have been erected in his favour, solely because of his attraction. Nobodies even sure if he's a demon of lust at this point, or if he's just naturally handsome.

And lastly, of course, his ego. His power gives him a big head, though that isn't undeserved. He's just as cocky as he's allowed to be. While it may seem like overkill to some people, they'll quickly find that all of his self conceit is well earned.

Of course, that makes him a big target. Any heroes career would be made if they could kill the demon king. Hell, some get publicity just by returning alive. Young, naive, aspiring heroes want to get his head on a platter more than anything.

And, of course, you were no exception.

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"I just don't think you're cut out for this, son."

At first you'd scoffed. Chalked it up to your mentor being crazy. After all, he was the one who trained you for this!

Nearing the end of the dead forest though, you were starting to wish that you'd listened to him. The energy, the atmosphere, felt like it was wrapping around your neck. You could almost see the dark tendrils around your throat.

The whispers of the forest- prominent, though unintelligible- faded the farther you got from the tree line. Anyone with eyes, ears, or even a nose could tell how corrupt the land was here. Dead birds, ravens to be exact, littered the grounds. Every few yards, you had to step over or around a carcass.

Your torch, near burnt out, clattered to the ground.

There wasn't any need for it anymore, the dim sunset illuminating the deathly area. A small shudder tore through your body. It's like you could feel eyes on you, even in the obviously vacated expanse.

The castle wasn't any better.

Cracked and broken cobblestone lined the pathway up to the doors, travelling up a rather steep hill. From where you stood, you could see the different layers. True to it's unholy resident, the castle was make of dark brick and stone. Sharp, jagged pillars jutted up at the tips of towers, pyres in small heaps littering the area. Some looked as if they were already burnt.

Your hand drifted to your side. There your sword hung, sheathed tightly in a leather casing. The sword was all you really needed, though a couple extra daggers and limited magic items were helpful. After all, it was the demon king. Just a sword wasn't going to kill him off.

You smiled at the thought of your sword being framed when you became a well-known hero, famous for being the blade to deliver the finishing blow.

Those thoughts were quickly disrupted as a bird fell to the ground at your feet.

You grimaced, gently kicking the corpse out of the way and continuing on the rocky cobblestone path. There hasn't been any sign of people for the last two miles. You knew that there was an immensely powerful demon king not even twenty minutes away from you, but it felt like there was nobody for miles on end.

Obviously though, no sane person would get as close to this place as you were.

With one final, (and tentative) step, you arrived at the front door. It felt like any and all sound was swallowed by the walls, all of your senses instantly on edge. Nothing felt right here. It almost made you want to turn around, but you've already made it this far. It would make no sense.

Drawing in another shaky breath, your hand made its way to the door handle. Not much skin touched it through your gloves, yet you could just sense how wrong it felt.

You could only hope that the next time you see these doors, you'd still have your head.

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Nobody told Oikawa that being the demon king would be so...boring.

As opposed to what everyone thinks, it's actually rather monotonous. Wake up, go seduce some townspeople, maybe burn a village or two, kill some heroes who come by, and repeat. Nothing happened that he didn't expect anymore.

Hell, it's gotten to the point where he just smites heroes before they even finish their little speech!

In his defense though, their speeches were starting to sound the same. All the "you are an ungodly creature of darkness"s and "I must avenge my family"s just felt the exact same. They only wanted to kill him for the publicity, the bounty, or some stupid thing about their families legacy. He's so bored.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted, (thank god), by the sound of footsteps pounding on the floor. All at once the door to the throne room swung open, a sweating and panting Kuroo standing there. His black hair was wind tousled, sweat glinting on his forehead.

"Wow," Oikawa scoffed. "Somethings got you running."

Kuroo stood up straight, shrugging and attempting to appear collected. "What do you mean?"

Oikawa raised his brows.

"Right, there's a hero in the castle." Kuroo chuckled awkwardly. "Want us to take care of him?"

Oikawa perked up. Another hero? Really? He wasn't looking forward to doing the same dance again, though maybe this time it would be slightly different. "Let him in," he grinned. "Maybe this one will have something for me." He was never one to turn down opportunity.

Kuroo, plagued by a bit of disbelief, nodded and left the throne room. Presumably it was to tell the fox twins.

Another wicked smile split the Demon King's face, brown hair shifting as he tilted his head to the side. Somehow, he got the feeling that this time, something interesting would happen.

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You figured that the castle would be partly deserted, but this was just weird.

No sign of any living beings. Demons, animals, humans, nothing. Was it an ambush? Quite possibly. Still though, you continued on through the halls.

The inside, just like the outside, was made of dark stone and brick. The floors were marbled and grey, veins of gold running through it. It was actually relatively pretty. You thought that there would be skulls and bones everywhere, bodies even. The castle was well taken care of.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. Seriously, there was no one. You thought that the all powerful Demon King would at least have some guards stationed around. You were grateful for it though, the lack of protection making it easier for you to get into the castle.

In truth you weren't exactly sure where you were headed. You believed the demon king to be in his throne room, though where exactly that was remained a mystery.

Using your limited knowledge of how castles are built, you slowly tried to make your way to the center of the castle. The back center, specifically. You hoped that you'd find the throne room there, plus you were following the remnants of magic.

Even not being a magic user yourself, it would be hard not to feel the weird fluctuations of energy in these halls. Demons always left some kind of trail behind. Which, of course, made this weirder. Nobody was stopping you, but it was clear that there were being in the castle aside from the king himself.

A thought struck you as you reached two huge double doors. (They no doubt led to the throne room). Was it possible that the demons were letting you get this close? Of course, there had to be some kind of second meaning behind it, right?

Drawing in a breath, you flung the doors open.

The throne room was different than the rest of the castle, if only slightly. Grey marble and gold veins staying the same of course, the walls slightly lighter than before. If you had the time to look closely, you'd notice the oxidized bloodstains on the walls.

"Well well, look who's finally showed up!"

Your breath hitched in your throat, barely registering the door creaking closed behind you the moment you stepped forward. He was just as...no, more terrifying up close. The horns jutting out from the sides of his head, twisted upward, held a muted purple colour that shined in the equally muted light. His tone of voice was teasing, almost whiny.

You couldn't tell if his eyes were brown or red, but either way they glowed dangerously. "Well, boy?" He tilted his head, soft brown hair bouncing slightly. "You are here to kill me...aren't you?" His tone shifted. Deeper, more serious.

Your hand quickly made its way to your sword, eyes darting from his horns to his eyes.

He laughed. "Why do you keep looking at my horns like that? You are here for my head, are you not?" You wanted to nod, though he spoke before you could get an answer out.

"Wait a minute. You're here for something more...carnal, aren't you?"

Your eyes widened. "What- no! I'm here for your head!" Your grip on the swords hilt tightened. The rumors about his looks were true, (maybe even understating them), however that is not what you're here to do.

The teasing smirk dropped off of his face. "Oh. Lame."

Your brows knitted together. "Lame?" What was that supposed to mean?

"Oh nothing," he rolled his eyes. "So if you're going to deliver a speech, best do it now. Before I, you know, kill you real bad."

You only looked more confused.

Oikawa scoffed at your lack of response. "Jeez, come on, you know what a soliloquy is right?"

"Well yes but I don't think that really applies here-"

"Tomato whatever, get on with it!" He'd turned around, hands firmly gripping your shoulders.

Your breath stopped short for a second.

"Oh come one," his face moved closer. "Is a little proximity all it takes for you to freeze up? Maybe you aren't cut out to be a hero, boy," he snickered. His nose was brushing yours, breath minty and cold.

Without thinking, your sword was at his side in a flash of silver. Maybe it was just out of reflex, the need to defend yourself. The blank, shocked look on your face morphing into one of confusion. Why wasn't your sword moving further? "Was that the best you could do?" The king whispered.

Looking down, you realize just why he was so revered. He'd caught the blade in his hand, a trickle of black blood visible on his palm. No grimace, no noise of pain, nothing. "Hey, eyes up here sweetheart," one of his clawed hands was on your chin now. The wound, one that would cut almost anyone's hand off, didn't seem to throw him off his rhythm at all.

Horror and realization befell you as your eyes met his. You weren't ready. You didn't know what to do, except relax and let instinct take over. So that's what you did.

You let the sword fall out of your hand, causing him to have to catch it at an awkward angle. Using his moment of distraction, you reached into a bag at your hip. Sand. Sure, he was a demon, though it's not like his eyes were impervious to sand.

The dust hit him in the eyes, a startled, strangled noise leaving him. You turned, darting to the only open window as fast as possible. Jumping was not a good idea by any means, though maybe you could use the little magic you knew to your own advantage. You hesitated. You didn't mean to, but really it was just in your nature to be a little cautious.

Oikawa's eyes cleared just in time to see you fall out the window, hands darting back and forth and lips moving. Magic. "You clever little thing," he snarled, at the window in only a few seconds flat. He almost jumped out after you, but then he stopped. Sure he could follow you, but what would be the point? It makes more sense to simply leave you to come back on your own.

"Hey!"

You didn't look back at the sound of his voice, though you did catch the next words to fall from his mouth. "The names Tooru, by the way!"

You didn't say a word, focused on the cold burn of your heart pounding and your legs moving. You'd failed far faster than you thought you would, but you'd be back. You didn't even bother to step around the birds, only focused on getting out. After all, he'd let you leave. There wasn't any way you were taking that for granted.

Back at the castle, Oikawa's hands were still gripping the window's edge. He'd watched your form run until he could hardly see you, still gazing off in that direction. The twins were hovering behind him, wondering when the right time would be to speak. The bloodied sword on the ground, (and the grains of sand), were clear signs that you'd done something.

After elbowing one another for a minute, Osamu spoke up. "Would you like us to take care of it, Lord?" He pushed Atsumu back in an attempt to seem more dignified.

They got silence for a second before he responded. "No. That one is mine. Leave him be." The twins nodded in unison, leaving the room like they were never there.

You didn't do much. There were other heroes who'd done far more to him then you had, though still, something stuck with him. Maybe it was the utterly useless conversation you'd shared before anything actually happened. Maybe it was the vague potential he saw.

In any case, he was going to see you once more. Somewhere you'd least expect him.

Oikawa never was fond of leaving unfinished business.

[angryinternetduck]

Bet On It

HELLO i’m back again with not only another fic but another friends to lovers!!! here’s 5.9k on hotel mishaps, long-term bets, and falling in love. featuring harry styles x reader with just a few warnings of explicit language and alcohol consumption.

enjoy!!!

masterlist | ask

***

Five Years Ago

If you hadn’t met him an hour before in the bar of the hotel, you would’ve said no. Share a hotel room with a stranger just because the hotel fucked up and double booked a room? No. Absolutely not.

Except -

His name was Harry. He was very cute. And sweet. He complimented your shoes in the bar, dimpling at you all cutely before holding out his hand and introducing himself. He let you prattle on for way too long, laughing at all your jokes and nodding gravely when you started getting serious.

And surprisingly, when you said you had to go, he didn’t ask you out or try to kiss you. He just told you it was nice to meet you with a smile. Problem was that that wasn’t the last you saw of him; when you went up to the desk to get your key card, the receptionist informed you of the mistake.

“We’ve double booked it. You’ll have to work it out amongst yourselves,” they said. “We can suggest other places to stay, or you can sleep in the lobby. Or - of course, you can always share. He’s over there. Guy in the pink shirt.”

You looked over, and lo and behold…

“Harry.”

“We meet again.”

“Was this your doing?” you joked. “All that to get me in a room with you?”

Harry grinned. “I wish I were that smart.”

“So just coincidence?”

“Or perhaps fate,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Did you know?” you asked. “When you, uh - introduced yourself?”

He shook his head and said, “Not that it was you.”

“Well, now that you do, what do you say? Share the room?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side, pondering. “Let’s prove it was fate,” he decided, meeting your gaze with a grin. Your brows furrowed, and he clarified. “Rock, paper, scissors. I win, we’ll share. You win, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” He held out his fist.

“Won’t make me find somewhere else?” you asked, smiling a bit. “Would rather share?”

He shrugged.

“Alright, then.”

Both of you counted silently, in your heads -

Rock, paper, scissors…

Harry grinned, and you made a fist from your scissors to bump his rock.

“Fate it is,” you said.

Fate proved to be in your favor; that night, you had the most fun you’d ever had in your life. To your surprise, however, the fun didn’t involve sex. Just talking. You sat on the bed drinking booze from the minifridge and talking until dawn with this Harry Styles.

It came up at one point, sex - or at least kissing did - but neither ever happened.

It was around three, when the exhaustion had set in, when you were lying down, gazing into each other’s eyes, half asleep. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” he’d whispered, and you grinned at him. “I should be asking you that, don’t you think?”

He looked confused. “Why’s that?”

“You’re the one in love with me,” you told him.

He giggled, rubbing his eyes. “And what makes you say that?”

“You wanted to share!” you exclaimed, like it was obvious, because it was.

“Sharing is caring.”

You bounced your brows. “Caring. Loving.”

Harry laughed and insisted, “Not the same!”

“I’d bet a million bucks you’re in love with me,” you murmured, tapping his nose.

“Then a million bucks you’d lose.”

“You will be,” you said, nodding slightly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a million bucks to give me on my deathbed when I still only care?” he said.

“Do you have a million bucks to give me when you confess?” you said back.

He stared at you for a second. His eyes were very green, his smile very wistful. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” you echoed.

Harry nodded. “I will bet you one kiss that I will never fall in love with you.”

“You’re gonna want a lot more than one kiss when you inevitably do,” you whispered.

“At least one kiss,” he amended.

“At least one kiss,” you agreed.

“Shake on it?”

You both shifted around in the bed so you could shake hands without sitting up.

“It’s a bet,” Harry said.

And so it was.

***

Present Day

“Give it to me straight, Styles,” you greet Harry, plopping down at your table with a sigh.

He hesitates for a moment, drawing out the suspense, and then breathes, “Care.”

You shake your head disappointedly. “Unbelievable, how bad you are at lying, you -”

Harry interrupts, “What’s really unbelievable is your tardiness -”

Then you do: “Your annoyingness -”

He pouts and fires back, “Your vocabulary -”

“Your lack thereof -”

“That’s not proper English.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re not proper English.”

“I promise you I am,” he replies with a smirk.

“I’ve always thought the accent was fake.”

“If it were, I’d be the greatest impersonator to walk the earth.”

“Impersonator?” you repeat. “And tell me, what is an impersonator but a talented liar?”

He gives you a grin. “I’ll take the compliment of talented, thank you.”

Leveling his gaze, you smile back and take a sip of your drink. “You know, I think that actually was proper English,” you muse. “Lack thereof. Your vocabulary - or lack thereof.” Harry bites his lip, eyes narrowed, staring at you, and you’re tempted to joke that his focus is lust when he replies, “It’s still wrong. I was saying your vocabulary is naive, and by saying I have none, you’re fundamentally saying the same. It’s redundant.”

Clearly satisfied with himself, he sits back, smiles smugly, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Harry Styles,” you say, “I’m going to smack that smirk right off your pretty face.”

“Second compliment in a day!” Harry exclaims. “Someone alert the press.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your own drink. “Why, they’d have a field day.”

The little cafe you’re in is absolutely adorable. It’s midway between your place and Harry’s, and after that fateful night in the hotel (during which you learned you live so close to each other), you began a tradition of meeting here once a week.

Tradition doesn’t end with just the location and time. Each meeting is almost exactly the same. You’re always late, and you always greet him the same way: some variation of “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”

And his reply is always the same: negative.

From there, the conversation wanders as much as it ever does, with one asking about the other’s week and the response being long and filled with complaints and woes and lamentations. The question is echoed back, and the response is - again - long, filled with complaints, woes, etc.

Despite the moaning and groaning, the mood never falls too low. It’s impossible to feel down around Harry Styles; just one look at those dimples makes a smile of your own appear on your face.

Your friendship with him has certainly blossomed. It’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen in love yet (or maybe he has, you’ll never know unless he says), and a greater wonder still that he hasn’t turned the question around on you.

Because the answer would be yes. You have, in fact, fallen in love with him.

Deeply, madly, in love.

But he’ll never know, because you’ll never say.

***

“I love you,” you tell Harry breathlessly, looking up at him lovingly. “Most ardently.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no - I’m just a girl! I’m just a girl, standing in front of -”

“I’ll always be there for you!” you cut in excitedly. “All the love in my heart, Llo -”

“Michael, I love you!” Harry gushes. “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy!”

You jump up and jut a finger at him dramatically. “We live in a cynical world!” you exclaim. “A cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you! You - you complete me!”

Harry jumps up to match you and begins, “I hate that -” then shakes his head and restarts, “I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie - I hate it when you make me laugh and - and - and even worse when you make me cry - I hate the way - I hate it when” - he’s grinning big now, jumping with excitement and passion - “you’re not around and the fact you didn’t call - but - but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all!”

It all came out in a rush of jumbled words and you’re so impressed you can’t help but sit back down and clap for him. Bright red, Harry takes a bow and collapses onto his couch next to you. “That took way too much effort,” he says, out of breath.

“It was worth it,” you tell him. “That was dazzling, really. You should go on the road.”

Harry nods. “One man show. Shakespeare. All of his long monologues, then bam - a poem better than all the others combined.” You giggle and fall into him, leaning against his chest with a sigh. “I’ll come with you,” you say. “Follow you to the ends of the earth and hold my breath to Pluto.”

“What’s that from?” Harry asks.

“That’s all me, baby.”

“Maybe the poem better than all the others combined could be yours.”

“Impossible,” you say immediately. “Nothing will ever beat Kat Stratford.”

“I’ll manage.”

You scoff. “You?”

“We.”

You shake your head. “There’s no ‘we’ in genius, Styles, but there is an I.”

“And a U!” Harry replies.

You look up at him.

“Wait.”

Snickering, you sit up and stretch your arms towards the ceiling. “Stick to memorization, maybe. Leave the heavy lifting to me. You need some practice on that speech, anyway - I counted at least three errors, not to mention the stuttering.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Harry sings. “What do you say, can I confess my love to you every night for the sake of practice?” You shake your head, standing up again and grabbing an empty container of food to throw away. “Not without losing the bet.”

Harry follows you, cleaning up as he goes. “Just for the one man show!”

“No exceptions.” You grin at him, grabbing your stuff and heading for the door. “Thanks for the food, Styles. I’ll see you Sunday?” Harry nods and blows you a kiss, which you catch and put in your pocket. “I’ll save that for when you lose the bet,” you tell him.

“Get outta here,” Harry laughs.

You stick your tongue out at him and stick a post it note on the door frame as you leave.

***

Harry usually wakes up to a few texts. Maybe a call every so often. Notifications from social media aren’t uncommon. The only days he wakes up to nearly a hundred texts are the nights you decide to go to the outlook.

Whether or not you like staying up late normally, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning to go to this place you found about three hours outside of the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s completely worth it.

There’s a little woods out there, and a while ago you went a bit off path and found an outcropping of rocks that look out over the city. At night, stars are visible. There’s nothing you love more than lying for hours on the cool stone, gazing up at the heavens above.

The first time you took Harry to the outlook, you asked a question, and Harry’s answer to that question was one of the only lies he’s ever told you. You’d asked, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

And Harry had said, “Of course not!” when in reality, he’d been looking for an opening to mention that very fear for the twenty minutes before, while you’d been climbing steadily uphill through the trees.

In his defense, there was no way he could’ve said anything different. You were just so happy, glowing with excitement and practically buzzing with energy. Plus, you’d grabbed his hand at the moment you asked to pull him up the last ridge and he was still a bit startled.

He never came to regret that lie. He grew out of the fear, anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. In fact, he’s almost come to love heights. He loves the thrill, the burst of happiness, the insane phenomenon of a racing heart and the feeling of being totally at peace all at the same time.

Incidentally, he also feels that way around you, whether the two of you are a hundred feet up or not. He’s always enjoyed spending time with you, and even just seeing you makes him happy. It’s what makes you a good friend.

Harry’s gone with you a few times to the outlook, but it’s usually pretty late by the time you want to go. Sometimes you’ll call him and he’ll pick up, and you’ll talk on the phone until one of you falls asleep.

You went last night, apparently, because Harry scrolls through seventy-two text messages this morning. It takes a while, since he reads all of them and then replies, but he woke up early anyway so it’s fine.

It’s Sunday, so he’s headed to the cafe to meet you. He has a cup of coffee even though he’ll get one at the cafe, too. There’s a sticky note on the coffee maker - Note to self: tell Harry there’s a snickers bar in his sweatshirt pocket - which you probably left a few days ago.

Harry smiles at the note, then frowns, sticking his hand in his pocket. There is, in fact, a Snickers bar in there, and Harry throws it out. It’s from almost a month ago, when you and him had an August Halloween. The sun is just a little too bright. Harry listens to music in the car, humming along and tapping his hands against the wheel in time.

You’re late, of course, so he orders his second cup of coffee and reads a newspaper on the shelf while he waits. Today it’s five minutes until you arrive, which is actually more on time than usual, and Harry throws you a large brimmed hat he found in his closet when you approach the table.

“What say you, Harry Styles,” you greet him, catching the hat and placing it on your head. “Make a jester laugh” - you form a heart with your fingers - “or make a jester cry?” Your heart cracks in two as you pout at him.

Breaking a finger-heart of his own, Harry grins. “Laughing clowns were always creepier to me,” he tells you. You trace a finger down your cheek like a tear and sit down across from him, sliding a menu from its place on the wall and beginning to read it over.

You look up at him, half smiling, a joke on your lips, and then -

Harry blinks.

Just like that, something’s changed.

You snap in front of his face. “Hello? Anything? You could at least pretend to laugh.”

“Christ, sorry,” Harry breathes. “What’d you say?”

Raising a brow, you lean forward and inspect him. “You alright, there, Styles?”

“If I were any better and it’d be obscene,” Harry answers easily, tapping your nose.

Grinning, you sit back. “Fantastic. Tell me, then, how it’s been. Fill me in.”

“It’s a lot better seeing you in that hat.”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim, looking up at it.

Harry giggles and asks, “You wanna know what one hat said to the other?”

“Oh, boy.”

“I’ll see you on a-head!”

Groaning dramatically, you throw the hat at him and bury your face in your hands.

***

"This is getting embarrassing, Styles,” you say as you walk up to Harry.

He turns around, a smile already on his face, and begins, “What’s -”

He stops when he sees you, because you’re all dressed up. You look absolutely stunning, which was on purpose, because of course you want to see his reaction, whether he loves you or not. And it’s very satisfactory, this reaction.

“You look fantastic,” Harry says softly.

You clear your throat, a little put off by how serious he’s being. “That was the goal.”

His eyes float back up to meet yours, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” you chirp. “But don’t let your head get too big - I only came for the free food and movie.” Finally, the glaze over his eyes fades, and he grins at you. He takes your arm, and as you walk, he asks, “You started a thought, you know, about something embarrass-”

You scoff. “You asked me on a date, Styles!”

“I did not!” Harry insists. He shakes his head. “My date ducked out at the last second -”

Smirking, you cut in, “Wonder why, Mr. Pink Suit.”

“- we were going to match, thank you - but really, she ducked out, and I wasn’t about to waste two perfectly good tickets. Thus… here we are.” He nods, like he’s pleased with his answer, but you raise a brow at him. “That’s a terrible excuse. You can just say you love me. I’ll accept.”

You arrive at his car. “Not yet,” he says, and then he gets in.

He starts the car, and for a moment, you gaze out the window.

Then, breaking the silence, you say, “I like the suit.”

“I like the look.”

“Thanks, I came up with it all by myself.”

“Impressive.”

You wait a moment, and then ask, “What inspired the pink?”

“She said she wanted a pink rose.”

Frowning, you begin, “I thought you said pink roses are -”

“Yeah, they’re not my favorite,” he mumbles.

You snicker a little. “Oh, what a bad date in high school can get you…”

“Hey, don’t tease,” Harry whines with a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur. “You’re nice to dress up anyway. No rose, though?”

Sheepishly, he tells you, “I… forgot.”

“You forgot?” you laugh.

“Yeah…”

“Well, um… well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, then unlocks the doors. “Come on,” he says, but you frown at him, confused. “You know you pulled in the wrong way?” you ask, but he just beckons with his hand and opens the trunk.

You hadn’t even looked - there’s pillows back there, and candy, and blankets, and he flicks on little fairy lights. “Harry Styles, you romantic!” you gasp, enthralled. “Wow, I gotta meet this girl, if you’re doing all this for her…”

He sits down and pats the space next to him, then grabs a pack of candy - your favorite. He hands it to you, which you take with a slow smile. “Her favorite too?” you ask. “Nope,” Harry replies, shaking his head as he opens his own pack of candy. “Forgot to ask her, but when I called her in the store she wouldn’t pick up so I just… got yours.” He clears his throat and hands you a bag of popcorn. “There’s this, too.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

On the huge screen in front of you, the movie begins to roll. You take a risk, sliding a little on the seat so you’re leaning against Harry, head against his chest. You can feel him breathing, his heart beating, his arm around your waist, thumb gently moving back and forth over the fabric of your clothes.

You fall asleep for most of the movie.

When you wake up, you’re leaned against a pillow, not Harry. Frowning and out of sorts, you sit up and rub your eyes. He’s leaned against the car outside, on the phone, and you can just barely make out what he’s saying.

“... I know, it’s… Yeah, I - I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, love. I missed you…”

The familiar feeling of tears building behind your eyes horrifies you, and you have to turn your back to him as tears start slipping down your cheeks. You’d somehow managed to convince yourself that it was all a ruse, that he’d meant it to be you from the start, that there was no other girl, that all along it was -

“Hey,” Harry says.

You cough, palming away the tears on your face and yawning like you’d just woken up. “Oh, hey… How’s, um - how’s she doing? Or - whoever - I mean -” You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“She’s fine,” Harry tells you. “How are you? Took a pretty long nap there…”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I was… I’m tired.”

“C’mon, then, let’s get you home.” He smiles at you, dimpling adorably, and holds out his hand. You take it and slide off the back of his car. “Thanks,” you say. He nods and shuts the trunk while you get into the passenger seat.

You don’t say anything as he starts the car, as he backs out and heads for your place. He glances over at you, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, and eventually turns on the radio. You fold up a sticky note and covertly slide it into the center console.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” you tell him when he stops the car.

He nods. “See you then.”

You hold his gaze for a second, and then get out of the car. As you’re shutting the door, Harry says, “Hey!” and you stop. “Hey, er - thank you. For coming tonight. I know it was a little… It was a bit much.”

“Not too much at all,” you say softly. “Bye, Harry.”

You shut the door.

***

The sticky note business began about a year after Harry met you. He’d mentioned something about refrigerator magnets being the most charming form of communication ever invented, and the next day he found a sticky note on his mirror that said, Note to self: find a more charming form of communication than refrigerator magnets.

Harry doesn’t find the sticky note in his console until the next night, when he’s driving home after working late and he’s trying to find his phone. It’s ringing, and it’s your ringtone, which is really, really annoying because you set it to the worst song you could think of so he’d be motivated to pick it up fast.

It’s not in the center console. It’s actually in his pocket. He picks it up.

“Harry, you gotta tell me now,” you say immediately. “Do you love me?”

“I -”

“Love or care, Styles.” You sound breathless. “L or C. Lover or Cunt. Tell me now.”

“Cunt,” Harry says reflexively, and then shakes his head. “I mean -”

“You don’t love me.” You don’t sound upset at all. You’re just clarifying.

Harry frowns. “I… What’s going on?”

“Well, I think I love this guy, Styles, and I’m about to fuck him, so I’ll talk to you later.”

And then you hang up.

Harry stares at his phone for a moment. Then he puts it down, frowning at the street in front of him, and thinks for a while until he gets home. When he does, he’s shutting the center console, which he’d left open, and he sees the little post it note.

Note to self: buy a pink rose for h to make him like them bc they’re pretty

Sitting in his car, staring at the note, Harry can’t help but think he’s messed it all up.

***

Sunday. You don’t show up.

***

Another Sunday. Harry orders a coffee and reads the newspaper.

You don’t show up.

***

You answer a text.

He asks if you’re okay, and you say, Yup!

***

You send a text.

Hey, Styles? Can you bring me a flower?

***

He should’ve gone to your place first, Harry’s thinking. He should’ve checked there, and then gone here. But it’s too late now. He’s stepping out of his car, trekking through the forest, and he’s finally here, and -

You’re on your back, staring at the stars.

“You know, I really thought he was the one.”

Harry bites on his lip and fiddles with the flower in his hands. “Did you?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you sigh and sit up. “No.”

“He didn’t - you’re not… You’re okay, right?”

“Nothing’s broken but my heart,” you murmur. “Physically, I’m fine, emotionally, I’m…”

You fade off, and Harry sits next to you and hands you the flower.

“Yellow,” you whisper. You look up at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “Why yellow?”

“Color of your shirt the first time I met you.”

Smiling, you murmur, “Memory of an elephant.”

“I couldn’t remember her favorite candy,” Harry says impulsively. He shuts his eyes, exhaling softly. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say.” You shake your head, looking forward again. “It’s fine. How’s she doing?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

Surprised, you glance at him again. “You mean you -?”

Harry shrugs. “She said my priorities weren’t right. Then she said goodbye.”

“We’re just a coupla broken hearted fools, aren’t we?” you say quietly.

“Broken hearted, yes,” Harry replies, “but I’m not a fool. Don’t know about you.”

You scoff, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “We’re having a moment here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says, but he’s laughing so the apology is moot.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you say, “I would’ve known about her if I hadn’t missed all our Sundays. I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have fun, at least? With Mr. Heartbreak?”

You giggle. “So much fun.”

“Well… that’s good, at least.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment, he forgets himself.

You’re looking up at the stars, your head tilted up, your lips curved upwards in a smile.

Harry’s expression matches yours. It’s one of quiet awe, of happiness and joy and adoration. He’s smiling, too, but it’s not as conscious. It’s more reflexive, something he can’t help but do whenever he catches sight of this view. He’s not looking at the stars, though - his gaze is focused on you.

“Come on!” you exclaim suddenly, jumping up. “This is the perfect excuse to watch The Notebook again.” Harry blinks, standing up and following you back to his car. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says.

***

Ideally, on the anniversary of your meeting Harry, you’d both rent a hotel room and get drunk on the minibar, talking nonsense until morning, to properly reenact that first night together. Problem with that is that hotel rooms cost money.

So instead, you have a sleepover. Last year it was at your place, so this year it’s at his. The good thing about not being in a hotel is that you can buy normal size bottles of booze, rather than the teeny ones from the minibar.

He’s grabbing everything from the kitchen while you’re queueing up the movie on the TV in his room. It’s not cooperating, though, and you’re rooting through all the wires in the back to try and find something that’s supposed to be connected.

“Harry, if you don’t get in here this second!” you shout at him.

“Did you get the other remote?” he shouts back.

You groan and whine, “Just come in here!”

“I haven’t gotten everything yet! Look for the second remote. It’s in one of the drawers.”

“Which drawers?” you yell.

He doesn’t reply.

So you ruffle through the drawers closest to the TV. Books, papers, chargers. No remotes. You go further and find his record collection. A few photo albums. You stick a sticky note on the top one that says, Note to self: go through these. There’s more books. A few DVDs.

And then - a folder. It has a yellow flower on it.

Frowning, you glance at the door behind you and then flip it open. What must be a hundred post it notes fall out. Your jaw drops, just slightly, because they’re all from you. Every sticky note you’ve ever left him is in this folder. He kept them all.

“Did you find it?” Harry shouts.

You ask, “Find what?” but your voice is too soft and he doesn’t hear you.

He shouts your name again, and you quickly shove the folder back where you got it. You clear your throat, then yell, “Harry, I can’t find it!” Finally, he comes in, arms full of food and drink, and tugs open the top drawer on his bedside table with his foot.

And there it is.

“Have I got to do everything around here or what?” he jokes.

You give him a laugh and set up the TV, which works just fine now that you have the right tools. Harry sets everything down and puts his hands on his hips, raising a brow at you. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” you tell him. “Just grew a few white hairs waiting for you to come back.”

He sticks his tongue out and tosses a bag of chips at you. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Finally, the movie’s set up, and you lean against his bed, sighing in contentment as the opening credits start to play. Harry hands you a glass and holds his own out, which you knock against your own. “Cheers, Styles,” you say. “To five years.”

“And counting.”

Grinning, you drink up and then settle back to watch the film.

***

His voice is thick.

Like honey.

It drips off his tongue, catches on his lips, slides down the column of his throat and glistens in the dim light. It’s rich. Deep. It turns to crystal in the cool air around you as his words fade off. You want to reach out and feel it on your fingers, want to taste it on your tongue, want to feel it slide over your lips, down your throat…

“... and then, suddenly, I was flying out the window with the worst pain I’ve ever -”

“Harry,” you interrupt with a giggle, “this is the third time you’ve told this story tonight.”

“It’s a good story!”

“Lemme see,” you say, crawling forward, and you’re on his lap now but you can’t really bring yourself to care because this is for scientific purposes. Harry grins and puts his hands on your waist and you giggle again and put your fingers on his jaw. “Lemme see your tongue.”

“Wanna see it or touch it?”

You smirk and reply, “How ‘bout lick it?”

“That’s gross!” Harry exclaims with a delighted laugh.

“I know!” you exclaim back, equally delighted.

“It’s broken,” Harry says, but he’s opening his mouth so it comes out all warbled. “I’m broken, you know -” You peer at his tongue, but it doesn’t look very broken. “No, you’re not,” you tell him.

“On the inside,” Harry says, pouting at you.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, nestling your head on his shoulder in a hug. “You’re warm,” you say, “that’s what you are.” Harry nods against you, running his hands up and down your back. “You fix me,” he slurs into your neck.

“That’s so romantic!” you giggle.

You sit there for a second, breathing him in, feeling happy, and then suddenly -

“I’m roasting,” Harry says, and it’s morning.

“I’m so hot,” you groan, “and my head hurts so bad…”

Harry grunts and pushes against you. “Get off me.”

You open your eyes, squinting in the sunlight, and fall off of him and onto the floor.

He stands up, moaning and groaning, and walks out. You may have fallen asleep again because when he comes back in and hands you a glass of water and some medicine you’re blinking back awake. “Thanks,” you mumble, downing both.

“That was something,” Harry says.

“Something for sure,” you say.

“I can’t move,” Harry says.

“Me neither.”

So you don’t. The day drags on, and when you’re both coherent enough for food you go to the kitchen. Harry cooks something up, and you eat it, sitting next to him at the kitchen island. You feel his foot against yours, and you play a half-delirious game of footsie as you finish eating.

Once you’re all done, Harry stands up and starts to wash the dishes. You watch him, watch his back and his arms and the way he moves, and stand up and stand next to him, grabbing a dish towel and holding out your hand. He hands you the plate, and you dry it.

It’s comfortable, the silence, and it’s more than peaceful, standing there drying dishes with Harry in the early afternoon. There aren’t many dishes, but you both take your time, and eventually he breaks the silence and the productivity to put on some music.

And then, suddenly, you’re dancing, a smile on your face that you can’t seem to get rid of curving your lips as you float around the kitchen with him. He’s bopping along to the song, hand in yours, dish towel over his shoulder after he stole it from you.

The dancing carries you to the living room, where he twirls you out so you can collapse onto the couch. He does the same, and you put your feet on his lap, head on the armrest, looking at him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You’re in front of me.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You raise a brow, smiling and still holding his gaze, and then sit up. “Staring contest, go.”

Instantly, he blinks, and you laugh, “Fuck’s sake.”

“No, no, again,” he demands, grinning, and he blinks quickly a few times before declaring, “Go.” The staring begins. Your eyes begin to sting, and you bite your lip, trying to keep your eyes open.

“We should watch Bird Box,” Harry whispers.

“Saw it last week.”

“I saw it,” he corrects. “You hid behind your hands the entire time.”

“You were the one screaming like a baby.”

“I prefer rom-coms, you know that.”

“Sometimes you need a little variety in life.”

“I lost the bet.”

You blink.

“Victory,” Harry says, a bit weakly, blinking too.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Victory,” Harry repeats, smiling sheepishly.

“No, no, before that,” you insist, shaking your head.

“I lost the bet,” Harry repeats softly.

You swallow thickly. “What bet?”

Harry bites his lip, concentrating, and then stands up and walks away. You scoff, following him, and ask again. “What bet?” He shakes his head, quiet, and opens his refrigerator, looking for something.

“Harry, for the love of -”

He holds out a kiss. A chocolate kiss.

Your eyes widen.

He steps closer, holding the kiss out on his palm. “I lost the bet,” he says. “I fell in love with you.” Your breath catches in your throat. “I don’t know if you feel the same,” he goes on, “so I… I don’t want to kiss you. I mean - I do, but -”

He holds the kiss closer to you. “I lost,” he finishes quietly.

You can’t find the right words.

So instead, you close the distance and kiss him.

The chocolate kiss falls to the floor, and fireworks erupt behind your eyelids.

After a moment, the words come.

And then, when you pull away for a moment, you both speak at the same time -

“I love you.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, and Harry grins, kissing you again.

“So I guess I didn’t lose after all,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips. “Let’s call it a tie.”

***

AHHHH there it is!!!! i actually did write this in like . two days . which was ! great haha but i hope u liked it!!!! if u did, feedback and a reblog would be much appreciated 💜

thanks for reading!

masterlist | ask

[edie-k]

Crowning Achievement (Romione, PG-13)

Finally taking the time to share the story I wrote for @honouraryweasley12 during the Romione Discord Secret Santa!

Title: Crowning Achievement

Pairing: Ron/Hermione; Harry/Third Wheel

Summary: Ron is well-prepared to deal with Hermione’s surprising news. That’s suspicious.

Request: He requested something where they were a happy couple. Fluffy but could allow some angst with a happy ending. This made me decide to write an argument where they fought because they were discussing their actual problem instead of avoiding their feelings.

Thanks to @adenei for her beta help!

TW: This fic does involve discussion of pregnancy and options around pregnancy outcomes but does not involve pregnancy loss.

Read it at AO3 or below!

Hermione glanced at the clock for what felt like the 50th time. It was finally, mercifully, at 8pm. Ron had said he should back on Thursday around 8.

That usually meant somewhere between 7 and 10.

Not that it was really his fault. He was only halfway through his second year of training so he had very little control over his schedule.

She wandered over to the pantry and began rearranging its contents by size for something to do. Getting ahead on her work or even reading for pleasure would be impossible in her current state of mind.

Finally, Hermione heard the tell tale whoosh of someone Flooing into the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. She took a deep breath and willed herself to be calm.

“Hermione?” Ron’s voice called. “I’m back and I got away at the time I told you for once.”

“In here,” she called back, voice shaking.

“Hi love,” Ron said, walking in the kitchen and spotting her. “Merlin Hermione, what’s wrong?”

The moment she saw him, her carefully prepared speech flew out of her head. Hermione turned her puffy and red eyes toward him and her face crumbled. “I am so sorry. I-I messed up.”

Ron dropped his rucksack on the floor and crossed the room towards her without taking off his muddy boots. He stood in front of her, rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms. “What’s going on?”

“I’m pregnant,” she sobbed.

Ron froze. “Oh. Is it… is it mine?”

Hermione pulled back, her mouth falling open. “Is it yours? Of course it’s yours! How can you even ask me that?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. That was the worst thing I could have said,” Ron replied, pulling her back into his embrace.

“Yes, it was! How could you—”

“You said you were sorry, that you messed up and I lost my head for a moment. And what do you mean you’re sorry? Somehow I don’t think this is completely on you.”

“Yes it is,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “When you came home from your last training mission early… I hadn’t taken my weekly dose of birth control potion because you were supposed to be gone for three weeks. So I thought I didn’t need it until the next week but then I came home from work and you were here and I had missed you so much and I completely forgot.”

“So you haven’t taken it since last month?” Ron asked.

“No, no, I realized the next day and took it,” she assured him between sniffles.

“Hermione, why didn’t you tell me? Is this why you’ve been so anxious recently?”

“Yes but I really thought it would be fine. I track my cycle pretty closely and that was a day that I shouldn’t have been able to get pregnant so I didn't want to worry you,” she sniffed.

“Well, I did take a couple of shots at it that night,” Ron grinned at her.

“Do I look like I’m in the mood?” Hermione snapped.

“Right, right,” Ron said. “So, okay. You’re... pregnant.”

“What are we going to do?” Hermione said.

“What do you want to do?” Ron asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you— you want to have it, right?”

“Do you want to?”

“I want to do what you want to do,” Ron said, his tone more serious and sincere than she could ever recall. Hermione bit her lip and glanced up at him. He was gazing at her intensely.

“I’m… well, I’m sort of leaning that way. You know what the healers said after the war about possible damage to, to me,” Hermione said, sniffling between sentences. “They said that trying to… conceive at a younger age gave me a better chance. I don’t think they meant this young but what if this ends up being our only opportunity?”

“Right,” agreed Ron with a solemn nod.

“But we can’t possibly! You’re not even twenty until next month!”

“Of course we can. Plenty of people have done it. My parents had Bill at our age. Harry’s parents had him young as well.”

“And they had an easy time of it?” Hermione scoffed.

“Well, we decided to defeat Voldemort before having kids so that’ll help,” Ron joked.

“Ron,” Hermione sighed.

“Look, it’ll be hard but we'll, you know, adjust.”

“I’m just starting my career and you aren’t even done with training yet!”

“Then we could decide to not have it?” Ron suggested.

“I don’t - I don’t think that’s what I want either,” Hermione admitted.

“Okay. Then we’ll figure it out. You’ll get some leave when you have the baby, yeah? That should get us almost to the end of my training. Then you can go back part-time for a couple months until I’m certified. I’m sure my mum will help, maybe Fleur - you said your mum was considering retiring as well, right? And once I’m done with training, I can go part-time. If I’m part-time, I won’t have long missions.”

“But you’d get all the most boring work!”

Ron shrugged. “I’ll help George out more on the weekends for the money and I can always go full time when the kid is in school. You always said you wanted our kids to start Muggle school, right? So it won’t even be that long.”

Her stomach fluttered at the thought that he remembered what she wanted for their theoretical children. “You’ll be five years behind on your career!”

“Nah,” said Ron. “I mean, I’ll be a little behind but Harry’s going to be the golden boy of the department and he’ll make sure I’m not forgotten. Anyway, you’ve always been the one that is going to be the star. Knocking you up and locking you down might be my crowning achievement.”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Hermione shook her head. “You’re doing amazing and I can’t let you—”

“You aren’t,” Ron said firmly. “We don’t have to figure it all out today, we can just—”

“Yes we do! I need to know we can do this so I can commit to the idea of having a baby and maybe be…happy about it,” Hermione pleaded.

Ron sighed. “I get it. Can I take a shower first? I’m muddy, wet, and cold and this is a lot to come home to.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Are you hungry?”

“You have to ask?”

“I’ll fix you something while you clean up,” Hermione turned toward the pantry.

“Hey,” Ron grabbed her arm, stopping her. “It may not be how or when we wanted this but there’s no one I would rather figure this out with than you.” He leaned down and kissed her softly.

She looked back up at him, teary eyed. “I feel the same.”

“Okay,” Ron said, pulling back from her. “I’ll be quick. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hermione said. Ron left the kitchen.

As she started to fix a sandwich for him, she started to reflect on how the conversation had gone. He had been so...calm. It wasn’t as though she expected him to run off or abandon her but she hadn’t expected him to think through this so logically or be so cool and collected.

Ten minutes later, he was back, taking a seat at the kitchen table and taking a bite of his sandwich.

“So,” said Hermione. “I think we should talk more about where we plan to live. I know we had talked about moving out of Grimmauld Place and into a place of our own in the beginning of the summer but now I wonder if we delay it to the fall. We can still be settled before the baby comes but even those few extra months of no rent might be helpful. That means you’ll have to do more of the work around the move since I’ll be quite pregnant at that time. Although I suppose magic will make quite a bit of difference. ”

“Okay, well, slow down. First, start by telling me what the date is?”

“The date?”

“The due date,” Ron clarified.

“Oh,” Hermione said. “I was so preoccupied with telling you and how you’d react that I didn’t even calculate it yet.”

“What do you mean, calculate it? What did the spell tell you?”

“The spell?” Hermione said.

“The pregnancy spell. Bill said it casts right onto a calendar,” Ron said.

“I haven’t cast it yet,” she said.

Ron froze. “Then how do you know you’re pregnant?”

“I’m three days late,” Hermione said. “I’m never late. Ever.”

“You didn’t cast the spell?”

“I know my body, Ron!” Hermione said, starting to feel a bit uneasy. Is it possible she had overreacted?

Ron rubbed his face wearily. “Hermione, can you cast the spell please?”

Hermione took her wand out and waved it. A pale yellow light glowed from her for a few moments before fading away.

She wasn’t pregnant.

The two sat in silence.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said. “I feel like an idiot. I was just so sure—”

“In the future, just, can you cast the spell before we start panicking? Or we can do it together if you like. But don’t drive yourself barmy without casting the spell, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I feel like an idiot. You know that since the war ended, I just expect things to go a certain way and when they don’t, I immediately jump into crisis mode.”

“I’m not mad,” Ron assured her, now taking a massive bite of the sandwich he had previously barely touched. “But I was exhausted before I even got home so if you don’t mind, I’m going to turn in.”

“Uh, okay,” said Hermione. “I’m going to stay up and review some of these documents. I wasn’t able to concentrate much at work the last couple of days.”

“I’m sure,” Ron chuckled, shoving the last bite of sandwich in his mouth as he stood up and put his plate in the sink. “I’ll wash that in the morning, okay?”

Hermione nodded.

“Good night, love,” Ron said, kissing her on the forehead before heading up the stairs.

Hermione headed toward the study to work but found herself still unable to concentrate. She felt overwhelmingly relieved to not be in the family way but Ron’s reaction was bothering her. He had been so calm. The idea of being parents before the end of the year didn’t seem to frighten him at all. Although they had both discussed and agreed on the concept of children in the future, she had thought they would wait years before they seriously considered having one.

Why had Ron seemed so ready now?

*********************************************************************************

Hermione made her way through the Ministry halls, intent to walk to the Apparition point a block from the Ministry. Normally she Flooed home after a long day but this evening she felt like she needed the walk.

By the time she had slipped into bed last night, unsurprisingly, Ron had been fast asleep. At around 1, she heard him wake up to go to the loo.

She had been certain that when he returned to bed he would do what he usually did and pull her flush to his body before returning to sleep. Actually, she thought he might do more than that given that they had been apart four days. But instead, he had just stumbled in the room and fell back to sleep. Eventually, she did too.

But even with her interrupted sleep, she still woke before her alarm in the morning and had run her foot up and down his bare leg, her typical signal to him that she was up for a morning shag— one that he had never before passed up. But he hadn’t roused at all.

It was highly suspicious. When he returned from time away, they always spent time reconnecting and it wasn’t unheard of for them to have a go in the evening and the morning. It was understandable that he pulled away last night, given how intense things were. But it was more than a little nerve wracking that he hadn’t responded to her this morning. Especially because based on his breathing patterns, she suspected he had been awake.

He hadn’t reacted to her pregnancy news the way she expected at all. He had been so calm and reassuring and he had a plan. A well thought out and logical plan. Almost as though he’d been thinking about it before last night.

It was ridiculous but she couldn’t help but worry that Ron was upset that she wasn’t pregnant.

She had been positive they were on the same page. They were getting their own place this summer but it was only a rental. Buying their own home, marriage and kids were all in their future but not the near future. She had thought within the next ten years but did Ron see it differently?

He had mentioned how young his parents and Harry’s were when they started their families.

Hermione shook her head as she reached the Apparition point. Staying until 6pm on a Friday and delaying her trip home was a mistake. They needed to discuss this and they needed to discuss it now.

She quietly popped into the entryway of Grimmauld Place and walked toward the kitchen. Ron didn’t have to go into the office today and he typically would have dinner started by this time in the evening. But when she pushed open the door, the kitchen was empty save for an open pizza box resting on top of a closed one.

She peeked at the box below and felt a tug on her heart as she spotted it was an almost full margherita pie - her favorite that neither Ron or Harry were crazy about. It was silly, given how affectionate he had been before he had gone to bed but it reminded her that Ron really did love her, despite the weirdness between them and she knew they could work it out.

Taking a slice from the box and setting it on a plate, she realized that there was sound coming from the wireless in the drawing room and then she heard voices.

Curses. Harry must have made it back this morning. That was going to delay the conversation she wanted to have.

“... yeah, well, I’m going to see if Hermione will take a look at it and tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Harry said.

Hermione was just about to announce her presence when Ron spoke up.

“Speaking of Hermione… when I came home last night, she told me she was pregnant.”

“WHAT?” Harry yelped and then Hermione heard him inhale sharply and then start coughing. She knew she should make herself known but she was morbidly curious to see how the two of them talked about her when she wasn’t around.

“Merlin, Harry, breathe! Did you almost choke?”

“Hermione’s pregnant,” Harry gasped out.

“No, no, it was a false alarm,” Ron said. “She was late and got herself all wound up and forgot to cast the spell to confirm it before telling me.”

“Why was there even a chance of her being pregnant? Are you being careless? Your mum will have your head!”

“Hey, you should be lecturing her. She’s the one that throws caution to the wind at the sight of me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She could practically hear his cocky grin.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, gross. First you get me in a full blown panic thinking she’s pregnant and then you make me think about your sex life.”

“You were in a full blown panic? I just about pissed myself when she told me,” Ron said.

“WHAT?” shouted a voice but this time it wasn’t Harry.

It had popped out of Hermione’s mouth before she could stop herself.

Both Harry and Ron’s heads snapped around. “Hermione!”

“What do you mean, you panicked?” Hermione shouted.

“Well, I—” Ron started to say.

“Hermione, it would be completely normal if—” Harry began at the same time, trotting out his faithful defense of Ron.

“Yes! It would be completely normal to panic but Ron didn’t do that AT ALL!” barked Hermione.

“What?” said Ron, bewildered.

“I told you that I was pregnant and all you did was start trying to make plans!” Hermione shouted. As the words tumbled out of her mouth, she became aware of how absolutely crazy her anger sounded.

Further evidence of that was clear on Ron and Harry’s faces.

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, maybe Ron was—”

“Stay out of it, Harry!” said Ron, now getting on his feet. “I was trying to be the mature one while you were melting down.”

“Oh, mature? You accused me of cheating on you!”

“Ron!” gasped Harry.

“That was for all of twenty seconds and it was only because you were saying you fucked up!” Ron said. “And I apologized immediately.”

Harry, of course, was immediately swayed by any apology from Ron. “Hermione, maybe you should—”

“Harry, you have never once before wanted to meddle in our relationship and I don’t see why you should now,” Hermione seethed at him.

“Er, right, I’ll just—” Harry glanced around the room but Ron and Hermione were blocking the doorway.

“I was doing what I thought I was supposed to do! Talk about our options. You made it clear that you thought having it was the way to go so I started talking about how we would work it out,” Ron spat.

“And since when are you so logical and thoughtful about things?” accused Hermione.

“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted from me for years?” Ron asked, fully exasperated.

Over his shoulder, Hermione spied Harry, struggling to keep his face expressionless. She knew what that meant. Harry agreed with Ron and she was losing this argument. It was time to get to the core of the issue.

“It was almost like you were planning this!”

“Planning this? You were the one that screwed up the birth control! You think I was planning to get you pregnant? Have you lost your mind?”

“You said ‘knocking me up’ and ‘locking me down’ would be a crowning achievement.”

This time she saw Harry cringe and felt a buzz of excitement course through her. This was moving her way.

“That was a joke! I didn’t mean that. Well, I sort of meant it but not as something I’m trying for right now!”

Hermione paused. She had come home with the intention of having a conversation and getting the answers to her questions but instead this had turned into a blazing row about nothing.

“Then how did you come up with all these plans?” Hermione said, trying to calm down.

“It’s just… after the thing last year… I did sort of think about what you and I would do.”

Harry’s brow furrowed but Hermione immediately softened. Harry might have been confused but she knew exactly what Ron was talking about.

Last year, during the November Hogsmeade visit, Ron had confided in her that George was in some sort of no-strings-attached relationship with Angelina Johnson and George told Ron he believed she was now pregnant.

Ron had been quite shaken about it at the time. George had been a wreck over the situation and Ron had worried that only six months after Fred’s death, George was in no place mentally to deal with fatherhood or any of it. In the end, Angelina wasn’t pregnant but now that Ron said it, she wasn’t surprised that he had been rattled enough to think about how they would handle similar circumstances. Her own thought at the time was that she would never be so irresponsible - a thought that now seemed arrogant and naive.

“Oh,” she said. “I���I was just worried that we were on different pages about how we saw our future.”

Ron snorted. “Do you really think I’m ready to be a father? I mean, yeah, I’d figure it out but I’m happy with how things are now.”

“I am too,” Hermione agreed. “It’s just that last night, when I came to bed, you were sound asleep. Then you got up in the middle of the night and when you came back, you didn’t pull me close like you usually do.”

Hermione heard Harry groan in the background but the answer to this was too important for her to pay any attention to him.

“I really was tired, Hermione and yeah, honestly, it was a lot when I came home,” Ron said.

“I know but what about this morning? I know you were awake but when I tried to… initiate the way I usually do, you just -”

“Okay,” interrupted Harry. “So the two of you seem to be in a place to have a productive conversation without me so I’m going to go.” Harry forcefully pushed past Hermione and she could hear him muttering to himself as he escaped down the hall.

“You were awake and ignored me. Don’t lie to me,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, I was. I wanted to, obviously. But I was sort of in my head. You thought you were pregnant for three days so I didn’t know if you were currently on the potion and I thought if I asked, you might get upset and think I didn’t trust you,” Ron replied.

“Oh,” Hermione said. “I was worried you were disappointed.”

“Hell no,” Ron said. “I like sleeping in. As much as I hate being away from you, I like my job and the longer, more difficult missions. I like going out when we want and staying in when we don’t. It feels like we didn’t always get to be normal teenagers and now I feel like I want to just, you know—”

“Take a breath,” finished Hermione.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed.

“I just can’t get over how calm and cool you were about the whole thing,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “You were almost perfect. I don’t even remember you swearing.”

“Calm to your face! I figured if I freaked out, you would freak out and since you were the one that would have to push a baby out of your body, I thought I should keep it together,” Ron said and Hermione laughed.

“Hermione, do you know what I did when I went upstairs last night? I went to the loo, threw up, took a shower, and then did two shots of Ogden’s before I came back down. I was losing my fucking mind.”

“Really?” Hermione said, smiling and taking a step toward him.

“Yes! Now, do you want me to sit here with you while you eat your disgusting pizza with leaves on it or would you rather go upstairs so you can give me the proper welcome home I was denied last night?”

“My delicious pizza can wait,” she smiled. Ron pulled her close and their lips met.

“See,” said Ron, pulling away and yanking her into the hall. “This is why I’m not ready for kids. Can’t head up to bed at 6:30 and ravish your-”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” said Harry, pushing past them to get to the entryway they used as an Apparition point.

“It also means we don’t have to delay getting our own place.”

“That, I’m ready for.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Modern au where feyre and Rhys are roommates and she accidentally kisses him

I Do Bad Things with You

Smut//2486 words

“Gods, do you ever shut up?” Feyre snapped.

Not that she was actually angry. She pissed at herself if anything, for being so fucking wet for her piece-of-shit roommate, even when he was being annoying.

Rhys just smirked. “I was only saying-”

“That maybe next time I should come home earlier so I don’t interrupt your beauty sleep with my loud stomping,” cut in Feyre.

When Rhys had seen her miniskirt and red lipstick, he knew exactly where she was headed. And he had preceded to comment on how loud she had been last time she’d returned from hooking up with some guy - Isaac maybe? - when she had apparently very noisily awoken him in the early hours of the morning.

Rhys winced. “I was only suggesting you try to be a bit more mindful of your surroundings-”

Feyre interrupted once more. “Mindful of my surroundings? Like all the times you’ve brought home some girl and made her scream in the room literally right across from mine? Do you know how hard it is to get to sleep with earbuds in at the loudest volume so you don’t have to hear your annoying roommate fucking some random chick?”

Rhys didn’t even have to decency to look embarrassed. He just smirked that smug smirk of his and said, “They certainly seem to enjoy it, don’t they?”

“Good lord,” Feyre muttered. Though while she may fake irritation, something tight coiled in her gut. Thinking back on the noises those women made, they did seem to enjoy it. And Feyre couldn’t stop herself from wondering what kind of noises Rhys could draw out of her.

Rhys and Feyre had moved in together totally by accident. Feyre’s best friend Mor had set up this whole situation just to bother her, probably, being Rhys’ cousin. She had thought they could become friends at first, and when he had turned out to be a smirky, egotistical jerk, avoiding him had seemed the better option. But Rhys was always there; helping Feyre with random shit, flirting, bothering her when she told him to piss off, flirting some more...

And now he somehow had the nerve to point out his skills in the bedroom right after criticizing Feyre’s ability to walk without sounding like Bigfoot.

“How about this?” Feyre started. “I’ll remember to tiptoe when I come home. You stop bringing ladies who don’t know how to be quiet into our apartment. And we end this conversation becasue I am really not in the mood right now.”

Rhys sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only if you also promise to stop being so rude. I’ve only ever been nice to you, Feyre.”

If anyone else had said something like that, Feyre would have felt like shit. She never meant to hurt anyone’s feelings (unless they really deserved it). But from the mischievous twinkle in Rhys’ eyes, she knew he was just trying to provoke her. Bastard.

“Go fuck yourself,” Feyre said flatly, and took a step toward the door. Past Rhys.

And, of course, she tripped over the edge of the rug. Because nothing in this fucking apartment could be easy. Not with him.

Feyre slammed into Rhys with a shriek, and they both hit the ground. Rhys had cushioned Feyre’s fall, so she wasn’t hurt or anything. Not that that’s what she thinking about right now. Not when she fell so hard her face slammed into him. Her lips.

Feyre was kissing Rhysand. And even though she’d imagined this far too many times before, she could not enjoy it. One, because their faces being violently slammed together wasn’t exactly pleasurable. And two, because she was freaked out.

She jolted up into a sitting position. On Rhys. Oh lord, was Feyre really straddling Rhysand Night in the middle of the kitchen floor?

When they’d fallen, limbs had gone flying. It wasn’t just their lips that had accidentally touched. Rhys’ hands were under the bottom of Feyre’s skirt. On her bare ass. And she was literally sitting on his dick.

“Um, sorry,” Feyre squeaked. Her face was definitely bright red. And her ears. And her neck. Any yet, for some incomprehensible reason, she wasn’t scrambling off of him. She was just sitting on him, with her hands on his chest, paralyzed.

Rhys also seemed to be paralyzed, because his hands were not moving from her ass cheeks. For the first time since Feyre had met him, he actually looked flustered. He was also blushing, and there was a shocked expression on his features.

“You’re fine,” he croaked in reply.

Feyre brain finally started functioning. “Oh gods, I should-”

She stopped speaking and pulled her hands away from Rhys’ chest. He yanked his hands out of her skirt. Just when Feyre was about to slide off of him, however, she felt something. Underneath her.

Rhys was getting hard.

From the panicked look on his face, Feyre knew he realized what she had felt. “Shit, I didn’t mean-”

“You’re fine,” Feyre said, repeating his earlier words. Her voice was strangely calm, indifferent even to her own ears. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them, but Feyre felt no regret. Only lust coursed through her mind right now.

Rhys blinked. “What?”

“Well I have really wanted you to fuck me for a while, and this whole situation is turning me on, but since that could be nothing and I could end up doing something that makes you uncomfortable, I’m asking. Do you want to have sex with me?” The words were so matter-of-fact. This is it, Feyre realized. This is the breaking point. I’ve finally reached insanity.

That blood-heating smirk found its way back to Rhys’ face, and she knew exactly what his answer was. “How long exactly is a while, darling?”

Feyre placed her hands on Rhys’ chest once more. “Too fucking long.”

He put his hands on her hips, keeping Feyre steady as she started to grind against his erection, needing pressure on that one spot.

“You’re a piece of shit, Rhysand. You know that? You smirk at me and you walk around shirtless all the time like there isn’t a horny girl sharing your apartment and you bring home all those girls like you want me like hear. Like you want me to know what you can do to me. It drives me crazy.” Feyre punctuated this little speech with a relatively hard roll of her hips, making Rhys let out a small groan.

“Of course I was doing it for you,” he murmured. “I wanted you to know what I had to offer.”

“You’re such a dick,” Feyre replied, reaching for the buttons of her blouse, hurriedly undoing them.

Once Feyre slung her shirt into the ground, Rhys flipped them. It was so fast, Feyre had no chance to protest (not that she would have), and in a split second, Rhys had her pinned to the floor.

“Surely I’m not the only one here in the business of teasing the other?” Rhys breathed in her ear, his hands tracing patterns on her thighs. “You strut around in those little skirts even when you’re not going out. You think I’ve never had to resist the urge to slam you against the wall?”

Feyre sighed as Rhys started trailing his lips along her neck. “Hmm, maybe we should, oh, um, we’re still on the floor, Rhys.” She didn’t know if what she said was even comprehensible to him, it was so muddled.

Rhys frowned against her neck. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Archeron?”

Feyre frowned as well. “My definition of adventure happens to be different than yours, that’s all. I typically don’t enjoy having sex on a rug that neither of us have vacuumed for a really long time.”

Rhys let out an exaggerated sigh and stood, bringing Feyre with him. She wrapped her legs tightly around his torso, marveling in how easy that had been for him. Of course, she’d noticed how ripped he was. How many hours he spent at the gym. She always noticed.

Feyre slung her arms around his neck. Rhys pulled Feyre’s face back to him as he started walking toward the hall. His lips crushed into hers, and she started grinding against him once more as his tongue parted her lips. The man certainly knew how to multitask.

They reached a room - Feyre’s - and Rhys carefully set her down on the bed. He flipped the lamp on and surveyed the scene in front of him: Feyre in a miniskirt and a barely-there bra, sprawled across the sheets, with her hair fanning across her shoulders.

“Take your clothes off.”

As much as Feyre wanted to do as he said, as much as she wanted to obey, she wasn’t just backing down. Rhys was a pain in the ass and he needed a serious ego check.

“Don’t you want the pleasure?” She asked twirling a strand of hair in her fingers and sliding her tongue across her lips, wetting them.

Rhys frowned. “Take off your clothes.” He only repeated what he’d just said, but there was no room for argument.

Feyre’s breath caught, and she just couldn’t stop herself anymore. She unclasped the bra, then slid out of her skirt. Her panties came next. She tried to move slowly, wanting to tease him, but it was so hard to be patient. The whole process, Rhys just watched, tracing her curves with his eyes.

“Good girl,” he muttered once she finished, and Feyre felt a fire light inside of her. She pressed her thighs together, a pathetic attempt at quenching the ache.

Rhys noted the movement with a twitch of his lips. Then he got on his knees.

Feyre barely suppressed a gasp as Rhys grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He pressed a gentle, teasing kiss against her thigh, and Feyre spread her legs as far as she could.

She was on her elbows, watching him lick a trail up her thigh, still not going where she needed, and Rhys was holding her gaze the entire time.

A smirk was the only warning she got before Rhys dipped his head into her center. Just when Feyre was thinking Rhys had given in, all she got was a light kiss to her clit, the most pleasurable and frustrating sensation she had ever experienced. It was enough to drive her insane.

“Rhys,” Feyre urged, “do something.”

“Do what? This?” Rhys asked, licking a stripe up her center.

Feyre moaned. “Yes,” she breathed.

“And how about this?” Rhys flicked her clit with his forefinger, making Feyre cry out.

“More,” was all she could gasp, fingers clenching around the sheets.

Rhys’ wicked mouth started moving, tasting her, eating her alive. His tongue slid inside of her and Feyre groaned loudly, falling back against the sheets. Her eyes closed and she cried out in ecstasy as a finger entered her, then another.

“Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, gods,” Feyre cried out.

He spoke up, his breath caressing her folds. “Do you like that, darling?”

“Please,” she murmured. “Please make me come.”

“You behave so well,” Rhys commented, rubbing her clit slowly. “I wonder who taught you how to use such good manners.”

Feyre whimpered. A nearly incomprehensible string of pleases kept falling from her mouth, along with curses and cries of his name.

Rhys started pumping his fingers hard, sucking on her clit. He curved his fingers just so and let his tongue dart out and taste her once more, and everything shattered.

Feyre screamed, clenching her thighs together around Rhys’ head. He didn’t seem to mind; he just kept licking and sucking and thrusting his fingers inside of her, working Feyre through her orgasm.

Once the room stopped shaking and Feyre could see clearly again, she noticed Rhys pulling his clothing off until he was bare before her. She regained enough movement to reach for his cock as he crawled on the bed, wanting to taste him like he had tasted her, but he gently swatted her hand away.

“There’s plenty of time for that later, darling,” Rhys purred, settling over her pinning her arms to the bed.

But Feyre wasn’t giving up. She hooked a leg around his waist and used her momentum to roll them over, so that she was on top.

Rhys grinned, surprised but pleased to let this play out. Feyre kissed his neck, enjoying the contented sigh that came from his mouth. She started moving her mouth up, kissing and licking as she went.

She reached his jawline and made her way to his mouth. Unable to resist, she nipped his lower lip. Rhys growled at her and tightened his grip on her hips, but he didn’t reprimand her further.

Feyre moaned as she felt his cock press against her folds and she scrambled off of him, reaching in her nightstand drawer to grab a condom. Turning back to Rhys, she expertly rolled the condom on his length while he tweaked her nipple, making her usually-steady fingers fumble.

Feyre climbed back on top and lifted her hips over Rhys’ cock. He steadied her with his hands on her waist, murmuring a “good girl” as she lowered herself. They both sighed in pleasure as Feyre slowly sunk down all the way, fully sitting on him now.

Rhys let out a groan as Feyre started to rock her hips, adjusting to his size. She rested her hands on his chest and started moving more, really riding him now.

“You look so hot bouncing on my cock,” Rhys praised, slamming his hips up into hers.

Feyre moaned loudly, digging her nails into his skin. She tried to move faster, harder, seeking another orgasm, desperate for release.

Rhys flipped them, not stopping the movements of his hips. He thrusted harder, fully in control now. Feyre was moaning nonstop, propably leaving small scratches all over his back. Rhys seemed to relish in the sensation, thrusting harder.

She moved one hand between their bodies, circling her own clit. Feyre moaned and pressed harder, craving release.

One more thrust from Rhys had Feyre tumbling off that cliff, groaning as she went. Her whole body shook, and Rhys kept going.

“You’re doing so good, baby, so good. I’m almost there.” Feyre’s orgasm was drawn out even further at the sound of Rhys’ commending tone, loving the sound of him taking to her.

Feyre felt Rhys’ cock twitch as he found his own release, sighing against her shoulder. He withdrew from Feyre’s entrance and sat back. She was barely conscious as Rhys took care of the condom and walked back over to her.

Rhys leaned down resting his lips against her ear. “I hope you sleep well, darling,” he whispered with that smug tone of his.

And then Feyre drifted off to sleep, hardly registering the sound of Rhys padding out of her room.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@story-scribbler

[kuboism]

Bleach Canon Vs. Studio Clown Episode 1

Intro to the series

WARNING: Long read but theres plenty of pictures

The first deviation we’re greeted with is what the anime presents as the arrival of hollows into the human world. With a likely artistic rendition of them forming from the shadows of Hueco Mundo and dripping/bleeding over into the human world like splotches of ink, after which they disappear - unable to be perceived by humans.

A/N: Which, kubos to the anime, is rather neat.

The anime also decided to incorporate the first volume poem which is the thematic beginning and a great establisher of the mood/themes of Bleach, which roughly translates to: 

我らは 姿無きが故に それを畏れ

“We fear that which cannot be seen”

And then they curiously add a line to this poem? 

姿無き故に敬う

”We revere that which cannot be seen"

A/N: Which, initially seems on brand with the spiritualism of that “which is not seen” - the shinigami, DEATH itself if you will. However, unlike the themes of “fear” and “fear of death/the unseen”, “reverence” is not really a theme prevalent or definitive for bleach. Reverence is not particularly reserved for death or death gods, but antagonists with themes of divinity/the Soul King himself, but I digress.

Next off the bully scene has a couple of missing/reworded lines, as well as some of the delivery changed, but overall it’s not significant enough to mention.

I also wish they’d kept Ichigo’s shit yourself scary face from this moment right here, since it really underlines how serious and personally invested Ichigo is in bringing small justice to the souls of the departed, but I can only pray a future remake does include it.

^ I am disappointed in y’all :/

vs.

v Karma delivery, bitch

Then for some reason the next scene is changed significantly:

In the manga, it builds up slowly to Ichigo’s reveal of supernatural abilities with the iconic TM character profile intros (which I can see why weren’t recreated in the anime, but I sure wish they put them in....)

with him spooking the bullies off with the ghost girl right behind him

Versus his scary face doing the job instead.....

It’s a small change, and I can see why it would be opted for - we don’t really know if they even saw the ghost in the first place (then again you could argue that would spook them anyway). There is a tonal difference in the long run though. The manga emphasizes once again *why* ichigo is scolding them in the first place - he sees the people disrespected by them knocking down the vase, he wants them to acknowledge their actions *because* in his mind, there are real victims he knows from it. While in the anime, since the ghost is not yet introduced, it feels more like “you are disrespectful to the dead” in a more generalized way vs. him actually being acquainted with the dead and treating them like the living. 

(Again, not sure why change it so much at all........the suspense and reveal are in the manga just the same.... but ok)

As well as cutting off this small moment where you can see Ichigo’s very human (and cute!) interactions with the ghosts. To him they’re just as real as the living, and he lends them a hand whenever they ask for help.

Also lmfao this 4kids level of censorship.....

It goes on rather faithfully for a while, no significant omissions, then Pierrot decides to randomly replace Yuzu’s lines with Karin??

Manga:

Anime: 

Which is an odd choice, given that not only does Yuzu sense ghosts just fine (albeit at a much lesser level than her family) and that later comes into play with Fishbone & Grandfisher, but Karin literally later admits that she doesn’t even want to acknowledge their presence, so why the change....?

They also cut short Karin’s little talk about Ichigo’s stats, which is a fair change for screentime’s sake, but mentioned for the record.

There’s a bit of a divergence with Yuzu lore, when the manga explicitly states she sees them, but not “clearly”, the anime focuses on her barely sensing them. I guess it doesn’t matter that much in the long run, since she is not that prevalent in the story, but it’s here for the record nonetheless.

Anime: 

vs. 

Manga:A

Also this next bit was removed, probably for the sake of pacing (which, totally fair!!), but it’s funny and I love the Kurosaki family so here it is:

It does make the flow a bit better in the manga, since this talk of selling his talents distracts Ichigo and creates an opening for his father to strike, in the anime, the same is done with Ichigo just randomly saying 

and thats where his father attacks him, which isnt really an issue, just kind of funny of how the manga is like:

Ichigo’s distracted by his sisters plotting to sell him out and hence Isshin has his chance to strike back

vs the anime being like:

Ichigo randomly thinks about dinner mid convo about ghosts and thats what distracts him from play-fighting with his dad 

gfdkhlgfdg okayyyy....moving on 

In the manga this scene is interspliced with Ichigo’s inner monologue about the nature of his powers (with hip jargon like “for real” courtesy of Viz ) 

(but my beef with Viz translations are for another day)

Also the line about “He told me more ghosts than ever have been haunting me” has been given to Karin for some reason, probably to make her feel more included in the scene/Ichigos life.

Notably, Isshin’s response is changed from “What?! He talks about stuff like that with you (Yuzu, singular)” to “What?! He talks about stuff like that with you guys?” as well, again probably to include Karin more into the dialogue. (Mmmm ok....)

Minor detail, but Karin’s lines has been changed to more “boyish” speech structure in the Japanese dub, which may seem insignificant, but ...... that is for later. 

.....

This little exchange

 is replaced with: 

Which, seems innocuous adaptation differences, but Yuzu’s lines keep decreasing and it’s a short enough moment to like....include and establish how motherly Yuzu is acting towards Ichigo.....but ok...huh. 

And now we get into the big boy changes.

So, probably for the sake of grounding the supernatural element of the series, the anime decided to skip time to the next morning and introduce the hollow attacks with a news report.

Which.....is an interesting choice. I am assuming this is addressing how the real world perceives the hollow attacks, which Bleach doesn’t put too much effort into addressing, but very soon after this we learn about stuff like memory replacement and other various technology to keep things under wraps so this is either redundant or implying that shinigamis have not been doing their job, which hm......

Next off is the bizarre choice to paint Isshin out of the picture for the night

Not sure why, but ok

Again, where’s the shinigami with their Kikanshinki (memory replacement devices)??? Pierrot where’s the lore coherence......

Anyway, Ichigo goes to replace the girl’s vase, but suprise-surprise she’s gone-zo. Wonder what happened to her.....

(And....again, people vehemently don’t want a reboot when the anime looks like this? )

So Ichigo hears a scream and a hollow scream and follows the sound (Ok?).

Totally random hollows attack. Which Ichigo somehow has never seen so far? Mind you, this isn’t like in the manga, where Fishbone was sent by Aizen specifically after Ichigo to make him aware of it. These are random-ass hollows attacking people, so how come Ichigo suddenly sees them. Ya coulda played it safe Pierrot, and stuck to the book, but we got plot inconsistencies episode one so let’s party.

The girl is, of course, not eaten and they run away.

She trips at the most inconvenient moment. (can ghosts trip? Ghost don’t even have legs in japanese lore and Kubo draws them floating around so okkkkkkkk)

(ok ok, im just being petty, bUT YKNOW)

(convenient tripping on deadass levelled ground is convenient)

(also God I really want that bag Ichigo’s got on his shoulder, it looks so nice)

Random-ass hollow closes in and 

BOOM

Rukia

(Now, if the rest of Bleach and the manga didn’t exist I would like this moment. We get a glimpse into Rukia’s abilities, into shinigami as a concept and we don’t really get to see her slice and dice hollows that much overall so the moment itself is rad in isolation.

Now, unfortunately for Pierrot’s screenwriters, Bleach manga exists and so does it’s lore, which again, would not be inconsistent with each other if the adapation was faithful. Now, Ichigo sees a shinigami, for some reason, for the first time in his 15 years of life. All of a sudden. 

You could argue, that much like in the manga, this is all part of Aizen’s plan TM, but like, she literally leaves right after leaving Ichigo gaping in awe ghfkjgdf. Why’d Aizen give him an appetizer, I really don’t understand how this change is benefitting the narrative in any way. It’s ....dare I say....generic.)

Rukia yeets the hollow

(why is this kid suddenly not wearing shoes?)

and goes off on her merry way, leaving Ichigo shooketh

ALSO RUKIA MA’AM THERES A FUCKING STRAY GHOST RIGHT AT YOUR RIGHT????? ISNT IT YOUR LIKE....JOB.......... TO HELP GHOSTS MOVE ON??? i know killing hollows is the fun part, but like ghjkfdlgfd ??? are you gonna ignore her???

( his fucking face ghfjdkgdlfgfd)

So after this wholeass pointless detour (you’ll see why it’s pointless in a moment)  we timeskip again (the filler is strong in this one. These 6 minutes were worth not coming up with something cohesive and removing scenes that actually make sense ah yes)

Ichigo is in deep thought TM about who tf is the stranger he’d just seen. Likely mulling over the monsters and how this person was able to slay said monsters. Probably thinking how unusual they are.

and as if on cue

the stranger makes their presence once more

(my God these faces gfhgkldfg)

....

Now let’s briefly address what happens in the manga instead.

Instead of the whole timeskip scene with the fight, Ichigo simply returns to his room on the same day, and oddly enough recognizes the species of the butterfly he sees? (nerdy boi! nerdy!! boi!)

rukia arrives much the same

(With the little text emphasizing how he’d never been aware of soul reapers, which is unsurprising given their secrecy, and makes sense in the long run since their first meeting is specifically orchestrated by Aizen. Two species that werent meant to interact brought together by his schemes.)

Back to the anime:

Ichigo pauses to ponder who tf they are and why the fuck they’re there.

and then the anime has the gall to suddenly revert to sticking to the manga, which like.... Ichigo kicks her for no reason? I guess because she isn’t answering? Even though Ichigo knows she has a sword and can wield it? Reckless boy.

Manga Ichigo thinks she’s a burglar, therefore, unsurprisingly, is comfortable kicking her outta his house. It’s a silly moment, but it also shows how accustomed or stupidly brave he is with the supernatural.

In the anime Ichigo asks her who she is instead of all that, and she responds pretty similarly to the manga

AND THE NEXT SCENE IS WHERE IT CLICKS WHY THEY WENT OUT OF THEIR WAY TO REMOVE ISSHIN FROM THE HOUSE.

(Ichigo and Rukia addressing the pointless filler, this leads nowhere)

Rukia check him out like she’s checking if the oranges on sale dont have mold on them 

slapstick ensues

and Rukia decides to answer his question.

Vs. the manga in which Isshin doesn’t leave his children home alone for some random conference and is actually used very efficient for two reasons:

1) building up on the burglar gag with actually funny slapstick that is based on a previously established joke

2) Instead of Rukia just saying “oh usually people can’t see me”, we get an actual demonstration of it, the reader gets to see “oh Isshin can’t see her - she must be a spiritual entity,” which further clicks with her surprised reaction at him being able to kick her in the first place.

The next scene is the classique Pierrot censorship.

Ghost girl runs away from what I’m assuming is Fishbone.

Aside from not showing her get eaten, the scene is pretty much delivering the same message, 

bUT

BECAUSE OF THE STUPID ASS FILLER WITH THEM MEETING RUKIA BEFORE THIS, I CAN ACCUSE RUKIA OF NEGLIGENCE.

UNLIKE THE MANGA, where Rukia arrives the night before and is specifically seeking Fishbone, therefore having no time to help this girl pass away, 

This vvvvvvv

could have been prevented if SOMEONE DID THEIR FUCKING JOB THE DAY BEFORE VVVVVVV

(I rest my case. Thank you Pierrot for making Rukia either negligent or an idiot. Awesome, And mind you, these changes were unnecessary. The manga’s pacing is fine. They could’ve extended scenes. But nope, had to go for making them meet beforehand.)

Anyway, we get to see some actual stakes in the manga

The next scene which is this in the manga 

has two changes to it. Firstly, obviously Isshin being consoled by Yuzu isn’t included since he isn’t home in the anime, and even if he were, I can see why that would be removed, cute as it may be.

And secondly, due to them having met prior Ichigo asks two additional questions:

And Rukia nods at both, which means she acknowledges that she had seen the girl the hollow was after and yet did nothing to help her pass on. 

(Reminder the Bleach anime was in production WAAAAY past the first 4 volumes, which gave a good general idea of the series, which y’know, was fine to adapt as is.

You’ll see these changes add up into becoming inconsistent with further Bleach lore. There’s a reason people call Bleach a hot mess, and I’m afraid Kubo ain’t really it.)

(Volume 14 Note from Kubo where he talks about the anime being announced)

Back to the series

Pet peeve time: Wish the anime was half as expressive as the manga

These scenes are supposed to represent

This panel:

(Nitpicking? Perhaps, but idc)

So uh, this scene is odd

Again, because of the addition of that filler with the hollow

Ichigo has seen her in action

And they even added Rukia trying to convince him 

even though, yknow???

LITerally the previous day???

Anyway  in the manga, where Ichigo has reason to be distrustful of her and her claims since y’know hes never seen her or a shinigami in action, but has enough proof that she’s a ghost bc his dad didn’t see her, he simply dismisses her before she can reply, and instead of just getting angry for being called a pipsqueak

she shows both Ichigo and the audience proof of her spiritual powers by binding Ichigo and forcing him to quietly listen to her explanations.

(To reiterate - Anime Rukia  has to verbally try to convince Ichigo WHO SAW HER FIGHT A HOLLOW THE OTHER DAY that shes no ordinary ghost. And because of that, she has no other reason to use Sai on him other than that shes mad she was called a pipsqueak bc she just tried to verbally convince him shei is a shinigami. When they could just adapt the manga and have her both demonstrate her powers and put him in his place at the same time. Wild.)

Also CRIMINALLY BORING SHOT, WITH CRIMINALLY BORING RUKIA

#NotMyRukia

LOOK AT THE MANGA

LOOK AT HER SMUGLY OWNING ICHIGO’S IGNORANT ASS #FuckYeahRukia

Also the subs may not show it if you’re watching it on Netflix, but anime Rukia says “I am not allowed to lay my hands on humans outside orders,” which like, you ARE LITERALLY DOING THAT. Manga Rukia is fine with bullying Ichigo, but she draws a line at killing him, but man Anime Rukia, you give no fucks about the laws huh.

why so cheerful?

(also Rukia be right tho)

(specifcally compared to hell you could say Soul society is a resftul place lmfao)

Also anime salary man gets to rest in peace, even like, pray and shit

Meanwhile the manga

YEET TO SOUL SOCIETY

(also notice how we’ve been robbed of ichigo’s silly socks

I swear the anime knows how to suck the soul out of the manga 

Get it? Soul! haha ....moving on.)

Really Rukia? One of your jobs?

GUESS YOU WERE OFF DUTY HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I’M SORRY BUT LIKE, SEE HOW POINTLESS THIS FILLER IS UGH!!!)

(Again pet peeve but look at how ugly this screen is COMPARED TO THE MANGA)

(What have they done to you, queen)

(also they never mention the name Konso ( or as Viz calls it here -”soul funeral”, thanks Viz)

Next on, not a pet peeve, but an observation:

Anime Rukia keeps her sketchbook in her kimono

Manga Rukia keeps it at the titty

Yep, which you neglected to do the day before,

she literally says “With the konso I did just a  moment ago” like she used the word before. Like you can contextually get it, but why cut that line out of the dialogue if you don’t change the next line it’s referenced in?

There’s also a dialogue change from the manga’s well, Viz uses “vaporize” which is not a bad choice given the specific wording Kubo uses, but the original says 

昇華 • 滅却

sublimate/convert • extinguish

which is a clever little nod/foreshadowing to the nature of souls in bleach and that they can be “converted” in and out of a hollowfied state. 

While the anime just says “to slay hollows”, and albeit it lacks the little nod the manga has to offer, I can’t see how they’d include it in the anime at that stage so I’m fine with them simplifying it to like, an exorcism.

A better question then Rukia - WHY DIDN’T YOU SEND OFF HER SOUL????

also WAIT THE GIRL IS STILL ALIVE?? she’s dead-dead by this point in the manga.

BULLSHIT !!!  YOU LITERALLY EXPLAIN LATER WHY!! ACTUALLY YOU EXPLAINED EARLIER WHY!!! YOU LITERALLY SAID THIS, 1 MINUTE AGO :

Anyway, Fishbone almost grants her the priviledge of escaping this God-awful anime, but is suddenly stopped?

AND CAN TALK??

wait WHY DOES FISHBONE TALK?? GHFJD isnt this supposed to be  a juicy reveal for later when Ichigo realizes “hey theyre not actual complete monsters - but used to be humans!” Hm, ok.

Also leaves her alone? Damn ok...

Reminder:

Moooving on...

Speaking of the manga, this little moment is missing:

Since there is no pointless filler that would make him ask about the ghost girl therefore exposing Rukia’s slacking off of her duty, Ichigo realizes that there must be a hollow nearby bc in the manga he actually has braincells to spare. 

Also wiping off the Baron’s moustache moment is gone 😢

Missing and dearly missed is also this moment, which consolidates how protective Ichigo is of his family. He only needs to hear Yuzu scream to click that the hollow is nearby and his family is in danger. I feel like anime Ichigo should be even more worried since his sisters are alone but ok??

Also foreshadows their dynamic of Rukia trying to stop his reckless attempts at pushing himself to protect his family, bc yknow....she has her own Kaien trauma to process.

Next off....

This is .... a choice....

They were very eager to give Yuzu’s lines to Karin just a couple of moments ago but now this whole exchange:

Where we see a very pragmatic yet soft side of Karin

She doesn’t know what is happening, and doesn’t expect her brother to fight it - he just wants him to be safe, because she loves her family. At least warn him before it gets to him and hurts him.

is replaced with this:

Yuzu, sweetie, what do you think he can do to achieve that.

I guess at least Anime Ichigo tries to get Rukia to do her job as she looks down on Yuzu in silence. 

But compare it to the manga:

#MyRukia stops by Karin to check for a pulse and reassures Ichigo that his sister is alive.

Manga Ichigo is NUMBER ONE oniichan in town and doesnt have time to call out to a stranger to save his family - HES BEYOND READY TO GO FIGHT, RECKLESS AS IT IS, EVEN THOUGH HIS OWN FAMILY BEGS HIM TO JUST RUN. because he cant let himself be unable to protect them. He cant live with himself if he doesnt try his darnest to protect them.

*elevator music playing as ichigo tries to get rukia’s attention but she fucks off downstairs, but instead of doing shit he just does the worm on the floor*

which I guess is more realistic for a teenage boy, but Ichigo is literally traumatized by being unable to protect a family member. Y’all think a ghost he’s never seen before is gonna stop him? 

Yooo, pathetic. #NotMyIchigo

[shotofire]

There’s Just Something About Him

•SHOTO TODOROKI x READER

•Overview: having feelings for the icy hot boy just seemed like a lost cause

•Warnings: just some cursing, meantions of anxiety.

•Season: 3

-

You’d always found the split haired boy attractive, but nothing ever went beyond that. It seems that even if you wanted it to nerves would just be in the way. Besides, everyone’s working to become pro-hero’s, who has time for a relationship? With all the shit going on you were almost positive that Todoroki didn’t have you in mind at all. The constant sneak attacks from villains, not knowing when the next person is going to get hurt, it was all too much.

Atleast that’s what you tried to convince yourself. The sweet, quiet boy who’d caught your eye since the first day of school just couldn’t possibly like you. He couldn’t possibly let a thought like that even make it halfway into his head. You’d lost hope a couple months into school, realizing fate definitely wasn’t on your side.

The two of you never got partnered up or even in the same group. It’s as if something is telling you it’s not meant to be. Sure you’d taken your own initiative and made conversation with the boy, but it’s always short lived. He wasn’t the best at talking unless he was on an adrenaline rush during a practice scenario. You had never gotten the luck of him wanting to use your quirks together either.

It truly felt hopeless.

You tried your best not to dwell on these things. If it was meant to be it just would’ve happened by now. Right?

The thoughts left your mind as you walked with your fellow classmates. Today is an exciting day, it was time to move into the new dorms. It took way too much convincing with your family, but eventually they caved in. You knew it’d be hard, they’re just worried about you. At this point the whole world was worried about all of the UA students safety. But everyone can agree that dorms are the safest it can get with all of the new high tech security.

You all stopped, admiring the new tall building in front of you. Knowing Todoroki was going to be in the same building as you every night had your anxiety on edge. But you were also... excited? For what, you had no idea. It was just a swirl of emotions.

Oh no, he’s gonna see my puffy morning eyes.

The happy chatter was cut short when Mr. Aizawa started talking about hero licenses, something that seemed to slip everyone’s minds. He was rather intimidating, eyes stern and serious. It sent a wave of uneasiness throughout the group. He knew the whole class was aware of the plan to save Bakugou, and he wasn’t happy. You stare at him with legs beginning to tremble.

His words cut deep as he threatened the possibility of expelling the entire class. You definitely wouldn’t put it past him, he seems like the type. But, as he said, due to All Might’s retirement the need for hero’s was strong. He couldn’t just get rid of such potential.

You looked at Todoroki’s face and it was frozen, he seemed more worried than anyone else. His heterochromia eyes stayed fixed on Mr. Aizawa, and you couldn’t help but let yourself take in his features. Sure you see the boy almost everyday but it’s hard to get good long looks when you’re sitting in class, he’d easily feel your gaze. There’s already been a couple times where he’s caught you and the embarrassment was too much to handle again.

His jaw was cleanched and sharp as ever. You just loved it. You wondered if it was weird to think about running your slim fingers along the bone of his jaw, it was just so beautiful.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to stare at Todoroki?”

In that moment it felt like you were going to throw up. All eyes shot to you, including Todoroki. Mr. Aizawa was a real ass sometimes but this definitely was the worst thing hes ever done to you, and he’d made you fall on your face after taking away your quirk infront of the whole class. That was absolutely nothing compared to this.

“I- uh, I-I wasn’t, I just-“ you were totally at loss for words. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. The heat on your face was hotter than ever, and you knew it was visible as well.

Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes, no longer caring about the predicament, “Anyways, that’s all. Look alive, enjoy your new home.”

That statement didn’t help anyone’s nerves after his little intimidation speech, but you had it the worst. Your face was still red and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Today was not going the way you hoped, and you didn’t dare even peak at Todoroki. You couldn’t help but think he thought you were weird. A girl he barely talks to constantly staring at him, there’s no way he didn’t think that.

The speech about where the boys and girls were was given, including where everything else was. But you could hardly pay attention focus on anything, and you didn’t dare look up.

It was time to decorate your rooms and make it your own, and you couldn’t be more relieved. Finally away from that embarrassment, even though it was waiting for you on the other side of your closed door.

“damnit,” you cursed. No one was going to forget that and you knew it. And the girls were beyond nosey when it came to crushes, especially Ashido.

After a couple hours of getting things together there was a knock on your door. You immediately froze. It’s like you had forgotten where you were and what had happened for a little bit, but of course you were quickly brought back to reality.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Its Uraraka, can I come in?”

Shes always the sweetest and you knew she wouldn’t bug you about anything. Especially after seeing the way you reacted. Uraraka always had her suspicions that you found Todoroki cute, your eyes practically lit up everytime he did something.

You granted her permission and continued to put your pillows neatly on the bed. She was in her pj’s but definitely seemed wide awake.

“Oh wow, your room is so cute (y/n)! Nothing compared to mine,” her smile was huge. You just adored her, she always brightened up your mood.

“Thank you so much Uraraka, you’ll have to show me your room later before that is confirmed,” you smiled back.

“Oh course! Actually, speaking of rooms, that’s what I came here for. The girls and I convinced the guys to show us their rooms and we kinda turned it into a little contest. Wanna join?”

Her request was extremely appealing. You immediately wondered what Todoroki’s room looked like, and now was your opportunity to see it. But the nerves were still there, and the embarrassment was even stronger. You just couldn’t face everyone right not, especially Todoroki’s. He probably didn’t want your creep self in there anyways.

“Thanks for asking Uraraka, but i’m very tired. I was just planning on finishing my room and crashing. But I still would like to see your room sometime tomorrow,” you said while trying to hold your smile. But she could see the said frown behind it, but she didn’t want to bother you any further. She could only imagine how she’d react and feel if Mr. Aizawa did that to her. She’d be completely horrified.

“You got it, see you tomorrow (y/n). Sleep well!”

She leaves, shutting the door behind her. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders fall limp.

I really wish I could see his room, I bet it’s awesome.

In all honestly you figured Todoroki would be relieved you didn’t show. God, class tomorrow was going to be hell. You just knew it, there’s no way you’d be able to focus knowing the whole class knows you’re a freak who can’t keep your eyes off the icy hot boy.

You pushed your thoughts aside, ignoring them to the best of your ability. You attempted to sleep, but the constant stamper of footsteps above you and outside your door was keeping you from the world of dreams. The world where assholes like Mr. Aizawa didn’t completely humiliate you.

Just as sleep started to creep up on you, there was another knock on your door. It was soft, and you immediately knew it wasn’t Uraraka. You sat up in the darkness, reaching for your bedside lamp. It faintly lit the room with a yellow glow, and made a light buzzing noise. You were too tired to speak up and ask who it was, so you forced yourself out of bed.

Maybe it was Momo, she did say she was looking forward to seeing your room. You pushed your wild hair out of your face before opening the door. And when you saw who was standing there a sharp breath immediately got caught in your throat. You let out a light cough.

“Todoroki?” you asked confused. He was all alone, no one with him. The lights in the hallway were out, one could only assume the competition was over and everyone else had gone to bed. Yet here he is, standing before you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing ever. You didn’t know what to say, he’d never even approached you first. But he can knock on your door late at night to talk to you?

You looked at him in disbelief. In that moment you realized how little you knew about this boy, and how odd this situation was.

“What time is it?” You asked, completely ignoring what he said. He huffed, he knew you’d be difficult. You two may not talk much but he’s good at observing. He knew you more than you’d think.

“Almost 12, not too late. Can I talk to you?” This time he asked, therefore making it harder to avoid.

“Uh, I-In here?” You asked.

You couldn’t help but think he was here to tell you to stop being a creep. He wasn’t interested in you and would really appreciate it if you could stop with the creepy stares.

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers.

At those words, you move aside. Widening the door so that he can come in. The smell of vanilla hit you in the face as he walked past, and his eyes immediately began to observe your room.

Todoroki is in my room... what the actual fuck is going on!?

His hand comes up to point at your wall, “Did you draw those?”

Your eyes dart to the colorful art pinned to your wall.

“Y-Yes.”

The constant stuttering was making you loose your mind. But when your anxiety is this high you can’t manage to think straight. Not even one word can come out without a struggle.

“I like them.”

You swallow, hard. He probably heard it. The room was so quiet without one of you talking, unbearably quiet. Without words the only sound was the faint buzzing of your lamp you’d turned on only a few minutes ago.

“Oh, uh, Thanks,” a blush began to creep onto your face. Your hand came up to cover your face as you looked down. You knew you looked odd in the moment, but it was better than him seeing how much he can effect you so easily.

Todoroki looked at you with sweet eyes, although you couldn’t see them due to your current state. He thought you looked cute right now, all bashful. That’s something he has always liked about you. Your cheeks got red so easily when you were embarrassed, nervous, flustered, even when you were tired.

He noticed these things because you interested him, you always had. You were way too cute and sweet to not catch his attention. He just truly sucked when it came to talking to girls. Especially pretty girls like you.

“I, um,” this time it was Todoroki at a loss for words. He had a plan before he came in, but now as he stood in your room it was much harder to think clearly.

You looked up at him, his hand was raking through his hair. He seemed almost... nervous.

Why the hell would he be nervous?

“I was uh wondering if you, uh, would like to,” he took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was stuttering too much and overthinking, it was just a simple question he was trying to get out.

He locked eyes with you, “Would you like to go grab some food after school tomorrow?”

Your mouth fell open, but you quickly covered it with your hand. There was no way, no damn way.

“You mean, j-just me and you?” You asked, making sure you were  interpretating this correctly.

“Yeah, Yeah,” He nervously laughs, “Like a uh, date.”

Like a what now?

There was absolutely no way this was real, you had to be dreaming.

“is this a joke?” You ask, but you meant to only think it.

His eyes widen and he quickly began waving his hands, “W-What? No, of course not! I really want to go on a date with you, I think it’d be fun. Plus you’re super sweet and pre-“ he stops himself.

C’mon man, you’re gonna scare her off by being too forward.

“Yeah, i’d really like that Todoroki,” your smile was surpressed by your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. At this point you wanted to jump for joy, but you didn’t want to scare this chance away.

“Okay cool, so after school. Tomorrow, you and me,” his nervous laugh comes back, “on a date.”

You can’t help but giggle, you’d never seen Todoroki so nervous before. Not in this way at least. It was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen.

“You got me after school Todoroki,” you giggled again, “You and me on a date.”

And with that, the two of you said your goodbyes, which were a little awkward considering the two of you kept letting nervous laughter slip.

As soon at the door shut, you let out a happy squeal. It didn’t even bother you that he might of heard it, you really didn’t care. You were so overjoyed that nothing could kill your mood.

On the other side of the door Todoroki had the geekiest smile on his face. He walked to his room completely satisfied. He did it, he finally asked the girl he liked on a date.

“Hell yeah,” he whispered to himself.

This definitely was heading in the right direction.



[prk-pyo]

FLUFF ALPHABET

— shun ibusaki x gn!reader

— fluff

— headcanon

— mention of abuse

— nsfw version

im so in love with him, I can’t–

A - Attractive (What do they find most attractive in a person and about you?)

— Confidence! It’s one of the things that catches his attention almost immediately. But he doesn’t like overly confident and/or loud people.

— When you’re in a relationship with him then it’s your honesty. He can’t stand half heartedly answers or lies.

B - Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why Not? How big?)

— He would want one! But he would wait a little while, starting when he hits his late 20's o early 30's.

— I have this feeling Shun likes the thought of a big family but he’s scared of neglecting his loved ones. (Ideal 2-3 kids + a pet) :3 <3

C - Cuddle (Do they like to cuddle? How do they like to cuddle most?)

— HE LOVES CUDDLING! Fight me on this if you want, I won’t budge a millimetre.

— loves resting his head upon your chest and you play with his hair. Will fall asleep 9.9/10 times.

D - Date (Ideal date?)

— Getting to know your hobbies and interests and try them out/take part of them!

— Teaching you; ”how-to-smoke-[inserts food]-like-shun-ibusaki“ technique 21. lmao

E - Energetic (How energetic are they?)

— barely. He’s more of a quiet and calm type. But does get excited sometimes <3

F - Fight (How are they in a fight?)

— Shunny is a very blunt and direct type. His words will sting.

— Hates losing in general, will need a bit of time before apologising to you for being mean.

— Depending on who's fault it is his apologise could either be your favourite food and a little love speech or just a whole heartedly apologise.

— NEVER gets physical or does hasty moves when he’s angry, the only thing he’d do is turn his body away from yours.

G - Gifts (How do they feel about gifts? How do they give them?)

— it’s one of his love languages. He loves buying you jewellery, flowers and cook your favourite food. Loves the “thank you�� kisses and hugs he gets from you every time he gifts you something <3

— gets flustered when you give him something. Will give you one of those rare smiles </3

— blushes hard when you tell him the jewellery looks good on him or attempt to cook/smoke him some food. prefers your cooking over everyone else’s.

H - Honesty (How honest are they? Do they keep secrets?)

— definition of honesty. He hates lies.

— he would need time to open up to you before spilling things like emotions or things that make him vulnerable.

— he’d bluntly tell you he’s not ready to talk about it when you mention a topic that is sensitive to him.

— never pushes you to talk to him, he is patient and respectful!

I - Injury (How do they react if you get injured?)

— internally screaming, not bothered on the outside. Will slightly panic when he hears/sees you wince/flinch in pain. Drops whatever he was doing and walks over to you and checks how bad the injury is.

— if it’s a serious injury you’d see a completely unpleasant new side of your boyfriend. Dialing the emergency number with shaky hands.

J - Jealousy (Are they the jealous type? How do they deal with it?)

— never admits it, but he does get jealous sometimes. Is scared of you leaving him.

— Shun usually gets jealous when you’re around people the opposite of his personality. He starts getting insecure over how quiet he is and how limited his affection is.

— How to fix it: Give him a big smooch and hold his hand while you’re talking to someone.

K - Kiss (Their favorite way to kiss you?)

— right on the lips, a deep passionate kiss. The ones that leave you breathless and wanting for more.

— loves making out with you, hands on your hip while you sit on top of his lap. your fingers tugging on his messy hair.

L - Love Confession (How did they confess their love?)

— blushy and little stuttering mess. bought some flowers and made you your favourite dessert.

— you got a big toothy smile from him when you returned his feelings </3

M - Mean (What are they like when they’re mean? Is it common?)

— he is not mean, he’s blunt. If you can’t handle the truth well, then shun isn’t your type of lover.

N - Nicknames (Do they have nicknames for you? What are their favorites for them?)

— usually calls you by your name, but sometime he adds a ”darling/sweetheart/baby” to it :]

— blushes when you give him a nickname or change his name to something like “shunny or shunshun“

O - Open (How long did it take for them to open up to you?)

— a while, you must have a good and deep bonding with him before he spills any of his weaknesses or feelings.

P - Proposal (How would they propose? Would they propose at all?)

— He would propose in the woods, both of you going out camping for the weekend and on the Sunday night infront of the fireplace while you waited for your sausages he popped the question <3

— He has intentions of starting a family with you, proposing to you and have you wear his last name makes his heart go awooga! (Or the other way around if you want to use your last name)

Q - Quiet (What are quiet moments like with them?)

— your moments with him are usually quiet, but watching you do your hobby while he observes you is one of his favourites <3

R - Rainy Day (What are they like in the rain?)

— On rainy days he starts researching new ways of smoking and tries out different variousions of it too.

— Cuddling with you.

S - Sad (How do they handle their sadness? How do they react to yours?)

— If Shun is sad he gets even more closed off than he already is. Only close people you are allowed to be near him/touch him. I feel like he wants to be alone when he’s sad but he also doesn’t, make him something to eat and then leave him alone, tell him he can talk to you anytime.

— he hates seeing you sad. Will do anything you want, cuddles? Got em. Wanting to be alone? Take your time. Want him to distract you? Already lit a fire for you to watch him smoke. Want to see his eyes? His hair is already clipped back.

— Overall; spoils you when you’re sad <3

T - Time (How long did it take for you to get together?)

— a couple years. he wants to make sure you’re trustworthy enough to let his guard down around you.

U - Unique (What’s an interesting thing about them that not a lot of people know about?)

— clips his hair back when he’s around you. Sometimes his eyes need to breathe too.

— he actually loves talking to you, he isn’t the most talkative person but sometimes gushes to you about something or explains each step and every detail of his cooking.

V - Value (What are some of the things they value most in life? value most about you?)

— Your honesty. It’s what draws him to you in the first place.

— As much as Shun loves cooking, his and his partners health is his top priority.

W - Wildcard (random fluff headcanon)

— One evening you and shun were lying in each other’s arms in his dorm room while you were talking about your day. He stares at you lovingly as you complain about your teachers and classmates, suddenly leaning in to capture your lips in a deep kiss, cutting you off mid-sentence.

X - XO (Are they affectionate with hugs and kisses? If not, are they in other ways?)

— Loves kissing and holding hands. In private you get anything you desire.

— in public he limits affection to holding hands and quick cheek kisses. He likes showing you his affection when you’re alone, sparing others the second hand embarrassment.

Y - Yearn (How do they deal with yearning?)

— Depends on his mood tbh. If he wants a kiss he’d do anything to get that kiss.

— Never really shrugs off your affection unless he’s uncomfortable or stressed/annoyed.

Z - Zen (What makes them calm?)

— Knowing you’re safe and sound and head over heels for him <3

[sugar-petals]

BTS Scenario: Taking Care of Them When They Have a Cold

↳ ♡ NOTE ⇁ time for fluff. autumn season is coming, let me set the mood right here, we’re going cozy 🍂

warnings ⚠️ hurt/comfort, brief mention of sexual tension

⌈jimin⌋ ⇢ Jimin’s cold is unusually subtle. In terms of visible signs, it’d take some time to notice it for someone who doesn’t know him or doesn’t check just how heavy another person’s breath is going. But feedback? You will definitely get. Compared to how he’s pouting about it, which will melt your heart is what I’m saying, the symptoms are understated in comparison to the other members. Taehyung’s cough can shatter an entire neighborhood, Jimin sneezing is as graceful as a gazelle. Mind you, his nose is runny, and the slight fatigue of the first two days isn’t negligible, but the major thing to actively mend is more psychological than physical. In other words, his body does its thing, you don’t have to overextend yourself. 

That’s what you have to figure out first to really take care of him properly. After laying him down and bringing both snacks and liquids, talking is what he needs rather than ten thousand types of medications and cool towels all over him. Jimin doesn’t want to see you become sick as well so you don’t sit up close, but at talking range, and you text a lot during the day while you work. He’s worried about not being able to practice and hopes the cold doesn’t show in his appearance. You assure him it takes five days at best and he is okay again and promise a lot of kisses. With that prospect, healing is even sweeter. And, you know the guy, Jimin misses seducing you, so.

⌈taehyung⌋ ⇢ Absolutely enjoys being babied ten times out of ten. Nothing better than you preparing a hot herbal bath. Rosemary, thyme, camomile. The steam spiraling off the water surface looks so relaxing in the candlelight, the classical music you put on sways him into a trance, he lays there for half an hour just motionless. He gets a little tray of coconut cookies on the bed stand, you play the guitar to him, you massage his feet before he sleeps… Which, and he hates admitting it, makes it nice to be sick. By all means not because of the fever, but the extra attentions, the hot chocolate for bed. Taehyung thinks about that twice and concludes something. He doesn’t want to get a cold just to receive this treatment. Not for his own health nor to worry or overwhelm you, he’s not gonna guilt-trip you into being a servant. 

So, you agree for later: It’s good to treat him sporadically just because, whenever and wherever, cue Shakira. That Taehyung so enjoys a good healing and mending time and it just explodes when you both have a reason to, that’s rather something to expand to the whole relationship. Taehyung will do the exact spoiling for you, with a romantic twist the way you know him. It doesn’t need a sickness to resort to doing nice things for your partner. At the end of the day, the body will remember it and get sick again because it sees what it gets through being ill. That’s something to squarely avoid doing, a random gesture is good for its own sake, amen.

⌈yoongi⌋ ⇢ Grumpy, murmuring, disgruntled he can’t work without getting a headache, needs a lot of silence to recover so he curls up on his own with earphones in and fifty playlists on repeat. He’s like tch, only thing I need is tiger balm to whip me back into shape. Or… wait. Wait a second. A cup of steaming hot coffee with extra foam he will not reject. Or a plate of fried rice. Anything fried and super crispy, really. Yoongi likes those things, especially when prepared by you. Nothing is more honoring. Actually? I’ll change the initial statement. Yoongi does accept some help. You simply gotta find out his catnip I mean favorite dishes and either know the place to order it from or have some kitchen basics down. Nothing super fancy though, it doesn’t need a God’s Menu. The right seasoning does the trick already. 

He wants it mega spicy, sweating out the cold is the way to go said Yoongi’s mom back in the day so he goes by that motto. Love starts in the stomach for felines. If another BTS member drops take-out at the door, even better, that uplifts him greatly. When he munches, that’s the most gratifying thing in the world. Yoongi wants you to eat with him by the bed so that means chili in the bedroom but screw it. All that food and you cranking up the heater distracts Yoongi from his cold and some head pats have him on his way to recovery. And, by the way. He’s kinda turned on by you cooking for him so… the frustration is real, you’re gonna fuck like rabbits once he’s okay again.

★ ⌈namjoon⌋ ⇢ The friendly giant will stay in denial about his cough for at least three days and walk around with way too much medicine in his system. He begs for someone to relieve him, mostly himself, but all those sky-high standards are in the way. Responsibility! Hard work and endurance! Solve it in your head! What is the spiritual reason for colds? How many pills keep you awake for an all-nighter to write an album in one go? What’s next on the schedule? So it goes on, you know the deal with Joonie. You have to kick that leader butt so he finally enters the healing cave under the sheets. Don’t kick too hard though, he doesn’t have Jimin-level cushions. He topples over into his sheets fast anyway, he’s that level of exhausted from his own suppression. 

The story goes on, Namjoon feels extremely guilty for getting pampered and still ponders the reasons why he is ill rather than slowing down a minute and closing his laptop for a hot second. It gets a little awkward unless you figure out your secret weapon. What he feels better with is you reading him stories while he rests on the sofa. I’m not kidding. Or if you’re busy or he wants to be alone, audiobooks. That input is like a lullaby to Namjoon who gets knocked out by the soft whispering only to descend into 12 hours of sleep. Ah, he’s namjooning. Yep. His cold will force him into resting, but by the time he recovers, he is six books wiser and has had the pleasure of listening to your voice which he finds soothing. Thankful he is, anticipate an expensive present and flowers.

★ ⌈jungkook⌋ ⇢ Meal and fluid intake: Quantity explosion! Wow, wow, and wow again, the sheer amount that he can snack and turn into what seems even more muscle and more sweetness. Guinness World Record. He knows his system is currently resetting, he wants to hand it the building blocks, he knows the math. Yes, even sick Jungkook is the cutest foodie in the world. Yes, he will eat his veggies. He worries about not being able to work out so you at least help him stretch his legs ever so slightly in bed. He’s missing his boxing gloves like crazy, he wants to see the members in the practice room, he wants his milk. The latter is easy to get for him, and FaceTime comes in handy. 

Namjoon does a little motivational speech, and Jungkook feels better almost instantly. Later on, you have to scold him — well, just a little bit — for getting up in all that enthusiasm to do some of his routine on the second day, but he already knows it’s not good for him to get his heart rate up like that. He patiently snuggles in a cocoon of duvets with only his eyes being visible. Until, finally, his red lil’ nose goes back to normal and his lungs feel a lot lighter. Jungkook really hates being dizzy, so it’s a weight off his hunky shoulders all right. Then, he can join you at the dinner table for a double portion of extra Parmesan Spaghetti, and you settle on the couch to bingewatch romantic animes and any Studio Ghibli movie in history.

★ ⌈jin⌋ ⇢ It simply can’t be helped, he even wants to make this funny. Humor really is a never-ending well, Jin is Spongebob’s long lost cousin if you go by his amount of meme talk. He calls himself Rudolph the Red-Nosed Jindeer, stuffs handkerchiefs into his nostrils, draws smileys on his knees with the cream usually meant for a dry philtrum (he now has very hydrated knees, how about that), does impossible contortions to find the right sleeping or reading position. Honestly, you don’t really have to take much care of him nor worry, Jin will cure himself through laughter. The power of positive emotion. Entertainment is nothing to provide for, he’s a one-man show after all. Jin is the least bored when he’s sick among the group, however! It needs someone else to exchange with, you know. No punchline without an audience. Listening is the best thing. 

Sit, lean back, see what he has to say. The only thing you gotta actively do is stop him from choking on his own spit after a particularly dead-on joke. Maybe it’s introducing some room for serious time that helps Jin enter a different track. I can imagine that. Some talk about memories, talk about sorrows and issues. Jin is a complete man, but he still has plenty of ’em, demons don’t evade handsome people. And those need to be talked through in a silent minute. Jin also enjoys movie nights with a cup of tea in one hand and syrup in the other, that’s the go-to way to unwind. You can finally go all out and pour him his tea, bake for him, serve some self-made popcorn, extra sticky and sweet, oh yum.

★ ⌈hoseok⌋ ⇢ If Jimin and Hobi ever get colds at the same time, this will be the poutiest contest. They’re the most vocal about it in the group. Hoseok, and that will come to surprise you a little, becomes needy. Not at the beginning where he’s confused and emotional about what’s going on with him (someone who works this hard and needs a fully functioning body is thrown out of their lane even by the slightest symptom), but shortly after. You’ll come to understand how sensitive his body is, almost as perceptive as Jungkook’s actually. His body blows up with a strong fever, a hot man heating up even more is just an explosion of physics. 

He needs handkerchiefs, he needs tons of water, he needs music to distract him a little, he needs a heating blanket for his feet once the fever is gone. Granted, every sick person depends on those things, but Hoseok is someone who calls out of the bedroom often because he ran out. He’s not afraid to ask for things unlike Namjoon who would refuse out of overt politeness. You certainly have a lot to do because his cold comes in strong so it’s important you enjoy taking care of him and don’t do it out of obligation. Quality time is what we’re talking about here. It’s not about you doing the things, it’s about the presence. That’s why Hoseok will use his money well and always order proper take-out that’s not just classic fast food, you don’t have to cook or anything.

related: putting bts to sleep after a hard day 

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Memories of Summer Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 忆夏之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

References are made to the following unreleased and likely cancelled content, so please read them before this date, or you might get lost at certain parts:

> R&S - Stunning Young Idol

> R&S - Youthhood

> Greenhouse Date (IMPORTANT)

There’s a call BEFORE the date: here

[ This date was released in CN on 21 October 2020 ]

[ PRESENT - Location: MC’s house ]

MC: All right, I’ve read through the scrapbook. Are you satisfied now? 

Kiro and I are sitting shoulder to shoulder, flipping to the last page of the scrapbook. 

Kiro : Did you leave something out? 

MC: Hm? Did I miss out an itinerary?

Kiro takes up a pen. In the blank space on the page, he draws a slightly crooked, but adorable teddy bear. 

Next to it, he draws a speech bubble: “I have a secret to tell you!”

-

[ FLASHBACK - Location: MC’s house ]

“I have a secret to tell you”...

MC: ...

While absent-mindedly having my breakfast, I ponder on what Kiro’s “secret” could be.

A few days ago, I suddenly received a call from Kiro while he was filming outdoors. We agreed that today would be left entirely up to his arrangements.

"Ding dong--”

MC: Coming, coming!

I run over and pull the door open. Behind the door stands Kiro, wearing a baseball cap and looking very relaxed. Several strands of golden coloured hair disobediently curl upwards underneath the brim of his hat. 

When he sees me, he immediately reveals a happy smile. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, are you ready? We can set out!

MC: You haven’t told me where we’re going?

Kiro: Since it’s a secret, how could I divulge it from the start?

He shakes his head firmly, and even uses his fingers to make a ‘X’ in front of his mouth.

Kiro: This time, I’m not going to soften my heart and divulge it to you first!

MC: All right...

Seeing how he’s rarely this serious, all you can do is smile and agree.

This “secret” - it’s probably a visit to another secret haunt to view the scenery, right? 

Kiro: You definitely wouldn’t be able to guess it this time!

He blinks and grabs one of my hands, his tone as lively as a dancing musical note.

Your mood is also influenced by his, and the corners of your lips involuntarily tug upwards. 

MC: I’ll just wait and see then?

Kiro: In the name of donuts, I guarantee that you’ll definitely like it!

Even though the sky outside the window is filled with dark clouds, Kiro’s smiling face seems to light up all of the gloom.

No matter where we go, and no matter what view we see, as long as we’re together, it’s good enough.

--At least, that’s what I initially thought.

-

[ Location: Kiro’s car ]

MC: Where exactly are we going? 

When I notice the car gradually ambling onto an empty trail in the outskirts, the confusion in my heart becomes more evident.

Pattering raindrops continuously pelt onto the window of the car. Outside the window are large plains of greenery which are being cleansed by the rain. 

Kiro turns his head to look at me, and it’s as though his eyes are filled with stars. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, I once promised that I’d give you a garden belonging just to us. 

Along with Kiro’s voice, a small garden teeming with blooming flowers appears in our line of sight.

It’s only after a few seconds that I finally internalise the meaning of his words, and my eyes widen.

MC: W...what do you mean? Are you saying...

Kiro: That’s right. This garden belongs to us now. 

Without waiting for me to continue guessing, he nods in acknowledgement. 

Kiro: When I was filming, a friend said he wanted to dispose of a small garden. So I bought it from him.

MC: But... but...

Even after several “but”s, I still can’t think of what to say. Should I rebuke him for squandering money to buy this garden, or tell him that he didn’t have to take my words literally back then?

Meanwhile, Kiro animatedly introduces the garden to me. 

Kiro: Even though the garden isn’t large, it’s pretty near the city. And it has a very beautiful glass greenhouse! The first time I saw the photograph, I felt it was very suited for us. When we’re free next time, we can have a vacation here. This is a “secret haunt” belonging to the two of us!

Noticing that I haven’t responded even after a while, Kiro slows down.

Kiro: What’s wrong, Miss Chips? You don’t like it?

MC: I...

Kiro stares at me anxiously, as though the moment I shake my head, his eyes would reveal a grieved expression.

When I think about his kind intentions, my heart softens. 

MC: I like it very much. Really, I’m incredibly happy!

His blue eyes are once again ignited with a radiant light. Kiro suddenly chuckles and leans over. 

Before I can react, I feel a gentle sensation on my cheek. When his lips make contact with my cheek before pulling away, there’s a soft sound.

Kiro: It’s great that you like it.

MC: [blushing] ...

In contrast to my stunned state with my mouth hanging open slightly, he looks especially at ease.

Kiro: Miss Chips, what’s wrong? 

MC: [blushing] N-nothing.

You face away, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of that gentle touch. But your heart rate is unable to calm down.

And you don’t notice the widening smile on Kiro’s lips.

While talking, the car reaches its destination.

Kiro: We’re here! Let’s get out of the car!

Kiro leaves the car first, holding an umbrella. Then, he walks over to my side and pulls the door open. 

-

[ Location: Forested area ]

Damp air accompanies the summer wind. Not too far off, the garden, which sits in the midst of mountains and forests, is reminiscent of a scenery framed in a painting.

Purplish-blue morning glories climb and entwine around bamboo fences, embellishing the curtain of drizzling rain with heart-stirring vibrance. 

MC: How beautiful...

The anticipation I harbour for the garden has reached its peak. Similarly, Kiro also pulls me towards it in anticipation. 

-

[ Location: Garden ]

When we draw nearer, we discover that the garden doesn’t seem to have been tended to for an extremely long time. Even the glass greenhouse is filled with junk, and is in disarray. 

The image in our heads - a small, romantic, yet beautiful garden flourishing with blooming flowers - is shattered in an instant. 

Kiro: Why does it look completely from what I imagined...

Kiro walks around the garden, frowning as he looks at me apologetically.

Kiro: I’m sorry, Miss Chips. I should have asked someone to tidy the place properly before bringing you here. 

MC: There’s no need to apologise. 

I place my hands on both sides of his face. Before he can react, I knead his cheeks with my palms. 

Kiro: ...mm?

MC: I think it’d be even more meaningful if we decorate the garden ourselves. We can write our names on this garden together.

Kiro is stunned for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. Then, a smile appears on his face. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, you’re right! This is a garden belonging to us.

-

I originally thought that tidying up the greenhouse would be an insipid affair. But I didn’t expect that we’d turn it into a treasure hunt. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, look at what I found!

Peering in his direction, I see Kiro squatting in front of a large paper box filled with various bits and bobs. In his hand is a beautiful glass bottle. 

Along with the swaying of the bottle, the glass beads in it channel tinkling sounds.

MC: It’s ramune!

[Trivia] Ramune is a Japanese carbonated soft drink

I lean over, realising that the box contains several more of such bottles. They’ve been washed and stored away by the original owner.

MC: Last time, I couldn’t bear to throw the bottles away after drinking them. But I’d always get sprayed whenever I open them...

Just recalling the uncontrollable spurting leaves me with a twinge of lingering trepidation. 

Kiro: It’s actually very simple. Press down on the cap for a while longer, and wait for the fizziness to go away before removing your finger from it. When I was schooling, I’d buy this whenever summer arrived.

Kiro sounds very familiar with it, his eyes brimming with longing.

His words also transport me back to my earlier years: summer days, late afternoons, and ice-cold ramune.

MC: Looks like we’re the same. Actually, it doesn’t taste that good, but the way to open it is really interesting!

Kiro and I exchange a glance, and we burst into laughter. 

Kiro: Actually... I still think cola tastes better!

While chatting, we clear out the soda bottles together. There are still various things in the box: lego toys with missing parts, incomplete jigsaw puzzles...

And a metal box filled with tiny paper slips. The words on the slips are unclear, but you can vaguely read them--

“Lend me your homework”, “Why is teacher dismissing class late again”, “Let’s go home together after school”, “I’m on cleaning duty today”...

MC: Pfft...

As I flip through the slips of paper, I laugh without restraint. Curious, Kiro takes a look at the slips. 

Kiro: Oh, they’re short notes! How nostalgic. Many people used to give me short notes during class last time too!

MC: Eh, really? 

I cast him a doubtful glance. Kiro pretends to be indignant as he looks at me, eyes wide.

Kiro: Of course - I’m Kiro! But I didn’t respond to every single note... apart from yours. I’ll always keep the notes you write to me.

After saying this, he suddenly makes a fist with one hand and places it on his other palm.

Kiro: Oh yes, I have to find a box for them when I get home too!

I pause for a while, unable to think of any important notes you wrote to him.

MC: You’re referring to those normal memos, right? 

Kiro: They’re still memories belonging to us. 

He cuts me off. His eyes sparkle, reminiscent of a little squirrel which has found a pine cone.

Kiro: I can remember all the important things, but it’s more difficult to remember the more trivial ones. But every minute and every second with you - I don’t want to forget them. They could even be left as family heirlooms!

MC: How could they be family heirlooms...

Kiro: Of course they can! Next time, we’ll tell them that the box contains the dribs and drabs belonging to me and the cutest girl in the world. Each note records a story. And each story is an important treasure. 

I open my mouth, but forget how to speak.

In his voice, I seem to envisage a scene from the future. 

My heart beats rapidly. I hurriedly lower my head, leafing through a random sketchbook in my hand. 

The sketchbook contains a drawing of a girl’s side profile done in clean brush strokes. As I flip through the following pages, I find that the entire book contains the same person in different situations. 

Kiro: Ohh, he definitely has a secret crush on her!

Miss Chips: Yeah, this should be very precious to him.

The thin sketchbook in your hands seems to shoulder the weight of memories. You carefully place it at the side, prepared to return it to its owner. All of a sudden, you hear Kiro speak.

Kiro: Miss Chips, have I ever told you about my high school days? 

You shake your head, recollecting the interviews and articles written about him before he returned to the country.

MC: I know a little. You attended high school in America, and even formed a band. Then, you successfully signed on with Warner Brothers... In the end, you entered Berkeley University with excellent results. All the articles said that you were an exceptionally serious and hardworking person. 

Kiro: So you already knew about it... However, I wasn’t necessarily that “sweet boy” mentioned in the articles!

The corners of his lips tug upwards, his expression carrying with it an almost imperceptible playfulness and ease.

Kiro: At that time, I was actually a little rebellious. I was filled with curiosity about the world, and wanted to try everything. 

Kiro: My band also tried all sorts of styles, because it’d be so boring if we only stuck to one! 

Kiro: You definitely didn’t know that I secretly played truant. Pei En and I... ah, he was my bandmate. When we had performances, we’d often go out to have fun behind our agent’s back. 

Kiro: I even researched how to sneak donuts into the performance venue...

The Kiro he’s talking about is a little foreign, but my curiosity is stirred up.

The Kiro of back then - was he really like that? 

Kiro: ...but there was one thing I didn’t try back then. 

With this, he suddenly stops and looks at me. 

MC: What was it? 

I blink in puzzlement. With a smile curling up his lips, he suddenly leans close to my ear. His lips brush against my ear, and I can almost feel their ridges. 

Kiro: I didn’t try liking a person. Do you think it’s because I hadn’t met you yet?

Every syllable, accompanied by his breath, rushes into my ear. 

The citrusy scent from the soda bottles lingers in the air - sour and sweet, just like those young and inexperienced years. 

My free hand is gripped by Kiro.

Subconsciously, I tighten my hold on his fingers, and I respond without much thought. 

MC: [blushing] At that time... you should have been studying!

Kiro: ...you’re right. 

The warm atmosphere vanishes in an instant. Kiro releases a sigh and fumes slightly, but it disappears quickly. 

Kiro: [sighs] Miss Chips, you’re really slow. 

He mutters something softly, but I pretend not to hear him and continue clearing out the items with my head lowered. My face feels like its burning.

-

Very soon, the junk in the greenhouse are cleared away. Kiro is currently tidying the messy wires, and I’m carrying an umbrella and the items to be disposed, leaving the greenhouse. 

MC: I’m heading out to throw the rubbish away. 

It’s still drizzling outside. By the time I toss the rubbish at the crossing, the drizzle grows heavier. As such, I follow a small trail and run back.

Passing through the stone path to the garden, I turn at a bend and step across a puddle. When I lift my head, I see Kiro sitting at the glass pavilion.

He’s barefoot, gazing at the path I had set out on, as though waiting for me to return.

Rain patters continuously around the pavilion. The morning glories which entwine around it are encased with water vapour.

Everything is hazy. Only his colours are especially distinct.

He doesn’t seem to care at all when the water droplets pelt onto him. He looks happy and content.

MC: Kiro!

My voice shatters the picture-like image before me. Kiro whips his head around in response, shock flashing across his features. 

Kiro: Eh? Miss Chips, why did you appear from this side?

MC: Because it’s much nearer. Were you waiting for me? 

With a sound of acknowledgement, Kiro raises something in his hand happily, showing it off as though he found a treasure. 

Kiro: Look at what I found! 

In his hand is a harmonica, and the logo on it looks incredibly familiar.

MC: In junior middle high, I think I had a harmonica with the same brand...

I walk over to the pavilion. Like Kiro, I remove my shoes and squeeze underneath the tiny pavilion with him, our shoulders touching.

Kiro pulls me even closer, preventing water from the eaves from pelting onto my shoulder.

The pattering water droplets continuously pelt onto our bare feet. The relaxing and cooling sensation enters the depths of our hearts.

- 

The rain persists even after a while. Kiro and I are hiding in the pavilion. Coincidentally, we have a full, unobstructed view of the entire garden.

I take a careful look at the harmonica in his hand. It has been washed clean, and the marks of years gone by linger on its body.

MC: Does it still work?

Kiro: Mm, I just tried it. It still makes sounds. 

With this, Kiro looks at me confidently.

Kiro: I said that I wasn’t good at playing the harmonica before. Afterwards, I specially practised it! This time, I’ll definitely play it even more amazingly than the last time!

MC: Cough cough. Actually, I didn’t mention this the last time - when I learnt the harmonica in junior high, the teacher complimented me for having a natural talent!

After saying this, I have a twinge of guilt. Because since then, it’s been a long time since I even touched a harmonica.

Kiro: Really? Miss Chips, you’re amazing!

Kiro’s eyes are shining as he looks at me. I lift up my chin ‘modestly’.

MC: I was so-so.

Kiro: Boasting might make your nose grow longer.

I subconsciously touch the tip of my nose, but react in time.

MC: It’d only grow longer when you tell a lie, right?

Kiro: Is that so? 

He elongates his words, widening his eyes and pretending to be silly. 

Kiro: In that case, I’ll play a song first to get the ball rolling.

Without much preparation, Kiro brings the harmonica to his lips. After adjusting his breathing, he blows the first note. 

“Du--”

My eyes widen in astonishment, not expecting that he really meant it when he said he “wasn’t good at playing it.”

Noticing my expression, Kiro arches one of his brows, as though telling me not to underestimate him.

At this moment, several musical notes form a smooth melody.

It’s a tune I’ve never heard before. Along with the rhythm created by the rain, it drifts over in a tranquil and mellifluous manner.

Kiro has his head half lowered, his lips moving from time to time along the harmonica. His expression has turned quiet, as though immersing himself in the world of music. 

Every time I see such a Kiro, I’ll always feel that he genuinely loves music with a fiery passion.

Soon, the melody ends. Before I fully extricate myself from the music, Kiro is already turning towards me with a satisfied look on his face.

Kiro: How was it? It’s a new song I’ve been trying recently.

MC: Hold on... are you really not good at it 

Kiro: After we performed together the other time, I re-discovered the joy in it!

He chuckles. He uses a tissue to wipe the harmonica clean, then hands it to me. 

Kiro: Now it’s your turn, Miss Chips.

MC: I’ll start off by saying that it’s been many years since I last played. 

I speak timidly, taking the harmonica.

MC: Let me see... I’ll play “Farewell” then.

Kiro nods. He holds his chin with a hand, his clear eyes gazing at me, waiting for my performance seriously.

I take a deep breath, placing my lips on the harmonica, which still has his lingering warmth on it. After a moment of hesitation, I blow the first note. 

“Su--”

I subconsciously look at Kiro’s expression. There isn’t a hint of ridicule in his eyes. Instead, they are filled with encouragement and trust. 

Hence, I continue pressing on, completing the simple melody.

Originally thinking that I had more or less forgotten it, memories from the past slowly surface before my eyes, enabling the melody to become fluent gradually.

My eyes flutter shut as well, basking in the delight of the moment where music and memories interlace.

After playing the final note, Kiro starts applauding.

Kiro: I didn’t expect Miss Chips to play so well even after such a long time!

Every time Kiro compliments someone, he’s always especially sincere. Seeing his awe and commendation, I start to feel embarrassed.

MC: Actually, I only know how to play a few songs...

Kiro: That’s already very amazing! Sometimes, I think about how great it’d be if I could travel through time.

MC: Why do you say that? 

Kiro: Because that way, I’d be able to know you in junior middle high.

He doesn’t seem to be joking. His gaze is focused on me, as though imagining how I looked like in junior middle high.

Kiro: Then, I’d be your seat mate, and give you lots of little notes during class. In summer, I’d buy two bottles of ice-cold ramune and wait for you before heading home together...

Kiro: [sighs] I really want to participate in your past: junior middle high, high school, university... all those long years.

Kiro: Fortunately, I can still participate in your present and future. 

His voice merges with the flavour of summer, and the sound of my heart beating against my chest resembles the song of cicadas, unable to be halted.

Unable to control my emotions, I instinctively want to avert my eyes. At the same time, however, I don’t want to keep avoiding things out of embarrassment like I did earlier.

I’m at a loss, so I simply lift the edges of my lips, giving him a small smile.

MC: All right, we’ll start from our garden.

And it’d span across the rest of our lives. From now till the future, everything will be given to him.

Kiro: Mm, I’ve got it!

Kiro beams with joy. He takes one of my hands in his and grips it tightly, as though he’ll never let go again.

By this time, the rain has already stopped. The summer heat in the air has long since dissipated, leaving behind the freshness of rain. 

This tiny greenhouse isn’t very exquisite, but the wilfully growing plants give it a rustic charm. After the rain, the lush flowers appear vibrant.

We step out of the pavilion and into the garden. Only now do I truly feel like this garden belongs to us.

Kiro: What type of flowers should we plant next time? What do you like? Roses... daisies... freesias...

MC: They’re all fine. We can plant different types of flowers. This way, there’ll be flowers blooming in every season. We can even buy a glass tea set so we can sit in the greenhouse and appreciate the flowers over tea.

Kiro: We’ll also have a rocking chair. When we’re old, we can sit here and enjoy the moment.

Based on the garden in our imagination, we start conceptualising and planning how it’d look like in the future.

When we reach the glass greenhouse, I look at the empty door and realise that something is missing.

Kiro: Over here, we need to hang a door plate.

Suddenly, Kiro retrieves a small wooden board from behind the door. Not knowing when he did it, the wooden board already has our names written on it. 

-- Kiro’s & Miss Chips’ Garden.

MC: When did you prepare this? 

Kiro: When you left just now. Now, I’ll leave the important task of hanging up the door plate to you!

Looking at the familiar handwriting on the wooden board, there’s a heaviness in a certain area in my heart. Perhaps that area already stores a flourishing garden filled with blooming flowers.

I tiptoe, hanging the wooden board on a nail, then look at it from left to right.

MC: Done!

Satisfied, I clap my hands together and turn around. Taken by surprise, I see a bouquet of white freesias, their petals dotted with water droplets.

The other end of the bouquet is held by Kiro. His eyes contain a bright smile. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, this is for you. This is the first bouquet in our garden!

He pauses for a while, his tone turning serious. 

Kiro: Next time, all the flowers here will be given to you, and only you.

My mouth hangs open. My heart rate speeds up in an unnatural manner. The blooming flowers seem to replicate the splendour of midsummer.

[Trivia] White freesias symbolise purity and innocence, and are the most popular wedding flowers because they are symbolic of the purity of the bride as well as the trust between the couple :’D

I take the freesias, which have been tied together simply with a ribbon, holding them to my chest like a treasure.

MC: I like it very much, thank you!

Kiro: I really want to do one thing right now!

Kiro suddenly stretches out his arms, bringing both me and the flowers into his arms. The summer-like heat encases me in an instant. 

While I’m still at a loss, I feel my feet being lifted off the ground as Kiro carries and spins me around several times.

MC: Whoa, hold on!

Kiro: [laughs] I can’t wait any longer!

He chuckles while setting me down. His eyes are filled with the colours of unconcealed happiness. Then, he offers his hand to me. 

Kiro: Do you still remember the dance we did before? 

I recall the “dance” we did the last time in a greenhouse, where I was spun around till I was dizzy. I shake my head vigorously.

MC: I don’t remember!

Kiro: Liar.

Seeing his slightly aggrieved expression, I smile and place my hand gently on his palm. Then, he playfully hooks his fingers with mine.

All of a sudden, the dark clouds accumulated in the sky are blown away by the wind. Rays of light from afar reach us, illuminating the entire garden.

The scintillating light dances on the tips of Kiro’s golden coloured hair, and my vision is completely taken over by his smiling face. 

It can no longer hold anything else.

Kiro: Let’s dance!

I’m pulled closer to Kiro, and he takes my head, lifting it over my head.

MC: Are we going to dance right here? 

I can’t help but laugh. Cooperating with him, I tiptoe and twirl around. Then, he draws me into his arms.

Kiro leans his chin on my shoulder. The breath he exhales stirs up stray hairs on the side of my neck.

I can’t see the expression on his face, but hear his incredibly gentle voice in my ear, imbued with overwhelming sweetness.

Kiro: Miss Chips--

-

[ PRESENT - Location: MC’s house ]

Kiro: All right, that should be it. The only thing left is to paste that photograph we took at the garden. Hmm... we can also consider making dried flowers using the flowers in every season, and keep them here...

Kiro sets down the pen, casting an earnest look at the mostly empty book, as though he has come to a decision.

My gaze lingers on the phrase he just wrote down.

The adorable teddy bear is waving at me from the book. The speech bubble is drawn seriously, and there’s an arrow pointing at the next page.

The ink left behind by Kiro has yet to dry completely. His voice in my memory and the short phrase blend together, creating a drawn out sweetness in my heart. 

“Miss Chips, will you give your future to me?”

--

💐 MOMENTS 💐

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Why do you suddenly want to fulfil people’s wishes?

Kiro: Because I want to know what your wish is!

-

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Could I wish for three more wishes?

Kiro: If it’s Miss Chips, even a thousand or ten thousand wishes are okay.

-

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Looks like I’m the first one?

Kiro: Mm! Actually, you’re the only one.

--

Call after the date: here

[kiwi-bitchez]

You Can Bet On It

Summary: Your roommate drags you out to the club where she beets a tall, blonde, handsome brit. You hand back at the bar and happen to meet his roommate. 

Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: smutttt, a little rough, spanking and light choking, use of vibrator, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 8k (got a little carried away with this one...)

Oh god, what is that horrible squeaking sound?

You are ripped from your trance to realize that the irritating noise was coming from you. Your bad habit of scratching off beer labels when you are nervous was starting to show, as your nail had worn completely through the thin paper, and had been obnoxiously rubbing into the glass.

You had zoned out, letting your eyes land on the ground and drift out of focus, clearing your head for a moment or five. Bars weren’t your favorite place. Scratch that, this kind of bar wasn’t your favorite place. Watered down liquor, slurred speech, thumping music, and people who were drunk enough not to care that they were practically having sex in public.

One of those people being your roommate Madison. You loved her, but god you couldn’t be more different. She is wild, sparkly, loud, fun. You’re…not. Your squeaking had pulled your focus back up to the dancefloor of the club where she was swaying her body back and forth with some tall blonde stranger.

You had to give it to her, she had a way with men at bars. Barely even setting her stuff down before someone buys her a drink, uses a line, offers to dance. This was Madison’s cup of tea, or tequila rather. She loves getting dressed up and going out to the busiest clubs, finding some handsome stranger to whisk her away for a night.

You didn’t judge her, not at all. You actually found yourself jealous of her, wishing you had that kind of confidence. She had tried to help you on many occasions, being your self-proclaimed wing-woman and trying to help you pick up guys at bars, but you could never quite get the hang of the awkward small talk and rushed physical intimacy.

You did, on occasions like this, let her drag you out with her. It kept her off your back about being “antisocial” and a “hermit,” and you liked keeping an eye out for her, making sure no one was trying to take advantage. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, Madison would snap if anyone tried to pull anything, but a more sober pair of eyes never hurts.

You had managed to grab a seat at the bar, facing outward to observe the bustling crowd. People-watching could sometimes prove to be an interesting way to pass the time, and truthfully you’d rather observe than interact most of the time. A few people had started conversations with you at the bar, and you weren’t a bitch or anything, you just clearly gave off the vibe that you weren’t interested in being bought some fruity cocktail and wooed onto the dancefloor.

Madison had her back pressed against the guy she was dancing with, his hands on her hips. The song was ending, and she made eye contact with you, nodding her head not-so-subtly towards the bathroom, signaling to you that she wanted to talk. Laughing to yourself at how un-smooth, yet totally smooth she managed to be at the same time.

“What’s up girl,” you ask as she pulls you into one of the single stall bathrooms.

“Y/N,” she grabs your shoulders, “he’s BRITISH.”

“Who?” you ask before registering that she was probably talking about that boy she had been grinding on.

“His name is Harrison, and he’s BRITISH, got the accent and everything,” she pressed her back up to the wall, pretending to fan herself off.

“Damn, going international now?” you joke, twiddling with the bottle in your hand.

“So, I need you to check him out, get a vibe, and let me know what you think,” she locks eyes with you, trying to be serious, unable to keep a few giggles from slipping out.

“I saw you two dancing, he’s definitely really good looking,” you tell her. She would always do this, try to make you feel involved, ask your opinion about the guy she was flirting with. She said she always wants your truthful opinion, but she always got the hottest guy at the place no matter where she was, so there wasn’t much for you to tell.

“Ugh, I’m totally gonna fuck him. Should I? I’m going to. I HAVE to. He’s British, and I can’t pass up an opportunity like that,” she was definitely talking to herself at this point.

You turn her towards the mirror, help her fluff her hair, straighten her dress, and give her some words of encouragement.

“You are hot. You are amazing. And you are going to have amazing hot sex with British Harrison,” you chant to her in the mirror, encouraging her to say it back to herself. Not that she needed the encouragement, but these little rituals you had in club bathrooms were always funny and sweet, it was one of the reasons you didn’t mind going out with her. You appreciated that she liked having your opinion, having someone she trusted around.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” you give her butt a tap as she exits the bathroom and shuffles back out onto the dancefloor, finding her man right where she had left him.

Your seat at the bar had been stolen, but you spotted an empty area over by a wall, somewhere you could comfortably stand and wait until Madison left with her suitor. Deciding to order another drink, something a little stronger than the beer you had been nursing, you make your way over to the bar.

Forearms leaning against the hard surface, you poke your head forward trying to get the bartender’s attention. She walks over, but immediately starts chatting up the guy standing next to you. Typical. If she pushed her boobs up a little bit he would probably leave a fat tip, so you couldn’t blame her.

You shift your eyes over to get a look at the guy next to you as he orders his gin and tonic, all you could see were his toned forearms and a glimpse of his profile. Not bad. You understood why the bartender was so eager to ignore you. She eventually stops fake laughing at his order, because what the fuck is funny about a gin and tonic, and looks your way.

“I’ll just have the same,” you say quickly, wanting to get out of there quickly and claim your spot by the wall.

“Are you copying me, love?” the stranger asks, leaning his bodyweight against the bar in the same position as you, “is that your move? Order the same drink to chat me up?”

“What’s your move, love” you quickly quip back, “being a dick to girls at the bar and hoping they’re into that?”

“You just didn’t strike me as a G and T type of girl, that’s all,” he puts his hands up defensively.

“Hmmm I see, be a dick and then tell me what kind of girl I seem like.”

You finally turn to him, allowing yourself to make eye contact. You hoped that he wasn’t taking your banter the wrong way, you weren’t trying to be nasty, you just found yourself in a particular mood.

He opened his mouth to say something back to you, but you cut him off before he could. In the two seconds you had made eye contact, you had realized that the stranger you were having your little back and forth with had an accent. A British accent.

“Are you here with that guy?” you gesture over to Madison on the dancefloor, “tall, blonde, striking blue eyes. English.”

“Harrison? Yeah, he’s my mate. If you’re interested in him you should probably have made your move a while ago, because he seems a bit occupied,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, occupied with my roommate,” you laugh back.

“Ah, I see,” he takes the two drinks from the bartender, handing you yours.

“Is he a good guy?” you ask, not sure why this man would tell you otherwise, “he’s not going to like, tie her up and murder her or anything like that?”

“Harrison? Nah, good guy, decent guy. He might tie her up, but he definitely won’t murder her.”

“Ha ha,” you sarcastically respond, “just looking out for my friend.”

“Why do you ask? You think they’ll go home together?” he asks.

“Oh, most definitely,” you tell him, “she dragged me into the bathroom a minute ago to gush about how she’s about to fuck a British guy.”

“Haz is a bit of a slag, so that won’t be too hard on her part.”

“Yeah, I see they are already well acquainted,” you turn to see Madison’s tongue down his throat. This night may be ending quicker than you had anticipated.

“I’m Tom,” he pulls your attention away from the public displays of affection and back to where he was seated at the bar, an empty seat opening up next to him.

“Y/N,” you stick out the hand that wasn’t holding your drink.

“It’s weird that you shake hands,” he says as he takes your clammy hand into his, his grip tighter than you had expected.

You shrug and take a gulp of your drink, abandoning hope of claiming the spot by the wall and deciding to camp out here with this strange British boy until Madison goes on her merry way.

“So how do you know him,” you nod back to where Harrison and Madison are.

“Oh, Haz is my best mate, we go way, way back,” he leans on his arm again, giving you a good view of his biceps against his black t-shirt, “we live in South London, but we’re here in the States for the summer. Work stuff.”

“Oh, so you two live together?” he nods at your question while sipping his drink, “so we can be sad and lonely at the bar while our hot roommates get it on.”

“Wow, I’ve never been told I’m lousy company before,” his humor met yours, “and I even paid for your drink you copycat.”

“You didn’t,” you give him a stern look but he shrugs back, a mischievous grin creeping across his face.

“Is this your ploy,” you smack the side of his arm, “the two of you find girls at the bar to lure back to your fancy apartment to have a freaky foursome with or something like that?”

“Now who’s being a dick and assuming things,” he says through broken laughs.

“Although,” you draw out your words, “your friend is pretty hot, maybe I’ll just go home with them.”

“Haz most certainly would not be opposed to that,” he jokes back.

You gesture to the bartender to make two more, and to put them on your tab. Tom gives you a look, but you give him one right back.

“Now I don’t owe you anything,” you explain.

“Hey, I’m not like that,” he gets defensive again, “I’m not quite as sleazy as my friend over there.”

“I’m just trying to help you out,” you narrow your eyes, “you’re the one who’s going to have to put up with the two of them all night.” You gesture over towards Madison and Haz.

“Pardon,” he coughs as he downs the rest of his drink, getting ready for the next.

“Oh, you thought they would be going back to our apartment?” you laugh sarcastically, “no, no, absolutely not.”

“Are you being serious? Or are you fucking with me? Cuz I honestly can’t tell.”

“Oh, you’re going to wish I was fucking with you. By the way she’s looking at him, I’m gonna give them, I don’t know, three, four solid rounds,” you try to make an empathetic face but can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face, “and Madison’s a screamer.”

“Too much information, thank you,” Tom covers his ears.

“Hey, I’m just trying to give you a heads up,” you cackle.

“Who’s to say he can’t convince them to go back to yours. I bet it’s closer.”

“She’s good at getting what she wants, and she “doesn’t shit where she eats”,” you make air quotes around the phrase, “in whatever twisted way that means she doesn’t like to bring guys back to our apartment. Weird personal rule, but I don’t question it cuz I always get to sleep peacefully.”

“You wanna bet?” Tom suggests, clearly not having thought this through, “My boy Haz is a smooth talker, and it seems like she really likes him. I say you’re the unfortunate roommate who’s going to have to put up with all that.”

“You’re on,” you set your drink down, extending your hand to him for the second time that night, “what do I get when they go back to your place?”

“If they go back to mine, I’ll cover your tab and leave you alone. And when they go back to yours, you’ll agree to let me take you out sometime,” he shakes your hand with a cocky grin on his face.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a bet, either way you’re buying me a drink.” He was growing on you, the accent, the floppy brown hair, the dimples. You were still wary of meeting strangers at bars, but something about him seemed genuine.

The two of you flipped around in your bar stools and faced the dancefloor. You liked that he never asked you to dance. Most girls would be dying to dance with a guy like Tom, but you liked just sitting at the bar, shooting the shit and sipping your drinks.

“Okay, okay, here they come,” you whisper and jab your elbow into his side.

Madison and Harrison stumble off the dancefloor and make their way to your place at the bar.

“Hey mate,” Harrison slings an arm around Tom’s shoulder.

You tune out their conversation as you notice Madison making a ridiculous face at you, eyes practically bugging out of her head.

“THAT’S his roommate?” she mouths to you, gesturing to Tom. You nod, trying to signal to her to be more subtle.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” she continues to mouth words silently to you.

“What???” you mouth back, trying to not let Tom and Harrison notice this awkward side conversation you were having. Luckily, they were occupied by their own.

“He’s fucking HOT,” She starts to whisper, you scrunch up your face, trying to tell her to stop making a scene about it. She gets the hint, but proceeds to point to you, point to Tom, and then do the finger going in and out of the hole gesture.

You slap her hand down as she starts to laugh, “Jesus Madison, cut it out,” you whisper, “you two are going back to his?” you change the subject.

“Yeah, obviously,” she says a little louder, “sooo, perfect opportunity for you…”

“Chill out, please,” you bring your hand to your temple, knowing she was being anything but subtle and Tom had probably noticed by this point.

“I owe you big time,” Harrison says to Tom as he starts to back away, taking Madison under his arm, “I’m serious bro.”

“Yeah, yeah, be safe you two,” Tom swats the air towards Harrison and turns back towards the bar, burying his head into his hands.

“Ha ha,” you poke his side, “told you that was a bad bet to make.”

“Know any cheap hotels around here?” Tom asks, looking exasperated.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you look at him seriously, “he kicked you out for the whole night?”

“I offered,” Tom sighs, “he would do the same for me.”

“Damn, you’re a good friend. Certainly a better roommate than me,” you turn to him, trying to be sympathetic, “but honestly, you probably didn’t want to be present for any of that anyways.”

Tom gestures towards the bartender with his card, telling her to charge for both your bar tabs.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you say.

“Hey, a bet is a bet, and now I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

You grab his arm as he starts to get up. Something inside of you told you to help him out, to not let him leave.

“It’s no Four Seasons, but I may know a place where you could kill a few hours,” you tell him, his eyes wide with excitement that you wanted to spend more time with him.

“You sure? It’s really no trouble…”

“Yeah, I’m sure, it’s only a few blocks from here.”

The two of you exit the loud club, only a few minutes behind Harrison and Madison. The stark contrast of the freezing outside air from the sweaty atmosphere of the club hits you. You take a few steps out onto the city sidewalk. Suddenly your feet buckle out underneath you and you are slipping backwards rapidly.

Tom quickly grabs you, one hand catching your shoulders and the other grabbing your hand, helping steady you. You gasp from the fall, but are grateful that you never hit the pavement.

“Hey, watch out for that patch of ice,” he jokes.

“Thank you,” you were a little flustered, both from falling and from being in his arms.

The two of you continue down the street, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You look at him questioningly, raising an eyebrow.

“Just making sure you don’t slip again, love,” he squeezes your hand a little tighter. You roll your eyes at him but don’t let go.

Typically, you would hate the pet names, “love,” “darling.” That stuff usually made your skin crawl. But there was something about his demeanor, maybe it was the accent, that made you not mind it at all. You actually kind of liked it.

“So where are you taking me?” he asks.

“Secret.”

It actually wasn’t anything worth keeping a secret. You worked at a small bar a few blocks away from the club you had been at. It was very different however. It was small, and never crowded other than a few regulars who would take the same booths and order the same drinks every night. It was down a side street, relatively difficult to find, hence the lack of business.

What you weren’t planning on telling Tom was that this was also the building you lived in. Your apartment was a few floors up. You picked up night and weekend shifts at the small bar to help cover rent, plus it wasn’t a bad place to spend your extra time. You never had to work too hard, and you could read or do homework behind the bar when not tending to customers. Plus, you got the pick the music.

You stomped your feet against the doormat, scraping all the collected snow off your shoes. Tom didn’t seem to be bothered that you had brought him to another bar, he seemed happy even. You watched his face intently as his cheeks grew rosy from the warmth of the indoors. You liked how the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Voila,” you gesture to the generally empty room, “the Four Seasons.”

He smiles at you and offers to take your coat. He makes his way over to the bar, choosing one of many empty seats. His eyebrows knit together as you continue walking away from him, hopping behind the bar.

“I’m not sure you’re allowed…” he starts.

“Hey Ernie,” you yell into the back office. Your boss replies with something muffled that Tom can’t quite make out, “no, not working tonight, just here with a friend,” you respond to him.

“Ah, so we’re friends now?” Tom asks as you start to make two drinks.

“Oh sorry,” you respond sarcastically, “I’m just here with the roommate of the guy who’s fucking my roommate, my bad.”

“No, no,” he brings his hands up, “we can be friends.”

He takes a sip of the drink you’ve handed him, asking you what it is.

“Moscow mule, fresh ginger, extra lime.”

“This is great, I’ve never had one of these.”

“What can I say, I’m kind of a pro,” you lean on the bar across from him, folding your arms on the countertop.

He liked your sense of humor, how you always had a comeback or something snarky to say. He also really liked your casual attitude, how you seemed unphased by everything. Little did he know you were constantly screaming inside, completely unsure of everything you said and did. Completely unsure as to how you ended up making a cocktail for one of the most attractive boys you’ve ever met. You tried to keep your cool though, and so far, it had been working.

You faced one another, sipping your drinks. At first an awkward moment of silence settled around you, exposing that the two of you truly had just met and knew virtually nothing about one another. You quickly slipped into easy conversation. You didn’t talk about the typical important things like where you worked, where you go to school, how you ended up in the city. You didn’t ask him why he was in the states, or any details about his personal life.

The stuff you talked about was far more personal than that. You exchanged theories about the ending of Lost, debated what Ben and Jerry’s flavor is best, shared the local vernacular and slang you used. These are the things that are important. You didn’t care what he did for work. But you did care what his favorite sitcom was.

“Does this place serve food at all?” he asked when your conversation had turned to what shape of pasta goes best with what sauces.

“Nah,” you gesture to the bar, “this is everything, no kitchen.”

“Damn, I could go for something to eat. Any good places around here?”

“Unfortunately, no. Everything near us either closed at midnight or will for sure give you food poisoning.”

He ate the lime out of his drink, sucking on the pulp until nothing but the skin was left.

“Really that hungry huh?” you joke, taking his lime wedge and tossing it in the garbage, “cuz I can cut up as many of those as you’d like, maybe even find you some maraschino cherries.”

“Don’t bother, maybe I’ll just drink myself into an oblivion.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” you were going against your better judgment when you said this, but it just slipped out, “I can get you some food, follow me.”

You walked around from behind the bar and instructed him to follow you. You slipped through a back door into a spiraling staircase. The air was cold and musty, and the stairs were slightly rickety under your feet. This was the fastest way to get up to your apartment, and you realized now it was too late to turn back, he had joined you in the stairwell and you started making your way up.

“You were worried about your roommate getting murdered by Haz, but now I’m starting to think I should be the one worried,” his tone was joking, but you wondered if he actually thought you were crazy.

“Very funny,” you dismissed it as a joke, “I live in this building, smarty pants.”

You raced him up a few flights of stairs until you arrived at your floor. You started down the hall, not looking back to see if he was following. Your breath grew a little shaky as you searched for your key, realizing you were letting this stranger, this hot stranger into your apartment.

You were just going to make him some food, you remind yourself. Maybe if he’s lucky you’ll let him crash on your couch, who knows. You kept telling yourself you had no reason to be this nervous. He’s just a person.

A person with big brown eyes and strong arms. A person who held your hand and laughed at your jokes. A person who willingly followed you to your apartment door from the sketchy bar you brought him to. Oh god, maybe you did have a reason to be nervous.

“It’s a little messy, hope you don’t mind,” you open the door for him, taking off your shoes at the door.

Your apartment was small, but cozy. You and Madison had been living there for almost two years now, and the apartment was well lived in. Funny pictures donned the walls, fuzzy blankets were strewn around the couches, leftovers filled the fridge.

“What’s on the menu?” he asks, reminding you that he’s here for food.

“Hmmm,” you open the pantry, “we have supplies for stir fry, and… stir fry.”

“I think I’ll have the stir fry,” he laughs, comfortably taking a seat at your small kitchen table.

You quickly started gathering ingredients on the counter, preheating the pan.

“Any preferences?” you yell into the next room.

“I’m not picky,” he responds, “thanks again.”

You start chopping up everything in your fridge and toss it into a pan with some leftover rice. It doesn’t take you long to whip up a decent meal, as stir fry was a recurring meal in your life. You glide into the living room, two bowls in hand. He had found your speaker system and taken it upon himself to put on some music, not that you minded.

“Fuck,” he mumbles after a few mouthfuls, “either I’m starving, or you make a mean fried rice.”

“One of my many specialties,” you were glad that he liked it, glad that he seemed so relaxed despite being in a stranger’s home.

“You’re pretty cool, do you know that?” he took you by surprise

“Umm,” you weren’t sure how to respond to the compliment.

“I just haven’t really met anyone nice since moving here. Haz is really the only other person I know,” he says through bites of food, “and meeting random girls at bars isn’t really a decent way to get to know people, not really know them anyways.”

You were flattered that he was being so honest, but part of you wondered if he was buttering you up to try and get into your pants. You had let him pay for your drinks, taken him to a secondary location, and then cooked him dinner at 2 am, he really would have no reason not to believe you wanted to sleep with him. And you did, oh god did you want to sleep with him, but you were still trying to get a read, was he a flirt like this with everyone? Were you just the girl who happened to be in the right seat at the bar at the right time?

This was why you could never follow through with casual bar hookups. Your  mind ran circles around the other person, who they were, where their motivations were coming from. You could never just focus on the fact that you thought he was hot, and you wanted his dick in your mouth.

“Thanks, I guess, you’re kind of cool too,” you avoided eye contact, “but you realize that I am a random girl you met at a bar, right?”

He laughed at your response, finishing his food and taking both of your empty plates into the kitchen. You tried to stop him, but he insisted that you had done the cooking so he would do the dishes, you chose not to argue.

“Yeah but most girls at the bar don’t make me dinner,” he retorts. He had a point, this was kind of an unusual situation you found yourself in. Would this have been easier if you had met him a different way? Rubbed up on him like Madison and Harrison and scurried off to the closest bed? Probably. They were probably already at least two rounds in by now.

“I’ve never taken someone home from the bar before,” oh god, why did you just say that. Why were you being vulnerable and honest, tell him you’re a pro, that you do this all the time.

“Really? I’m surprised,” his tone was nonchalant, so maybe your awkward outburst of truth hadn’t shaken him like you thought it would, “why not?”

“Why not?” you repeat his question to yourself, “I’m just not really good at this kind of stuff, not like you.”

“Are you kidding me?” He turns from the sink to see you leaning against the counter across from him, “You were the one who wined and dined me.”

“I hardly consider stir fry and a vodka mixer to be wining and dining,” you tried to cover up your embarrassment.

“Jeez, then I’d like to experience whatever you consider to be wining and dining, cuz I’m having a great time.”

“What’s your last name?” you ask quickly, suddenly changing the subject

“Holland,” he tells you, “why?”

“I just figured I should know your full name, Tom Holland, if I’m gonna let you sleep in my apartment. You know, in case I have to report you to the police cuz you’ve robbed me or murdered my cat or something.”

“No offense but it doesn’t really look like you have anything worth stealing, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have a cat,” he laughs

“Both true,” you were laughing too. Still in the kitchen, you weren’t sure how to migrate somewhere else.

“You’re sure though? I don’t want to impose. I really can just go find a cheap motel, or go back to my place and crash the orgy that’s probably happening,” he didn’t want to stay if you weren’t comfortable.

“No worries,” you start moving to the living room, “you can make it up to me some other time. I promise you don’t want to be going back to whatever noises are happening in your apartment right now.”

You truly would have been content with him sleeping on the couch, slipping out the next morning, and never speaking again. Well, no. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t be content, but you’d live with it. You didn’t want to assume anything, didn’t want to make a fool of yourself.

“So,” you start, obviously about to make a fool of yourself, “I can get you some blankets, and you can sleep out here. Or, if you want, we can share my bed. It’s up to you and I won’t be offended either way, I swear.”

Why did you always say things that made you feel so stupid. You winced at your own statement, not wanting to see his reaction. He took a few steps towards you, standing close, but not as close as you would have liked. You continue to look away, waiting for him to say something.

Eyes down on the carpet, you feel his hand grab your chin softly, angling your head up to meet his.

“And when we share your bed,” the breath of his words hitting your face, “are we just going to sleep, or are we...” Although his voice was cool and confident, he was genuinely asking. He had a hard time reading you, and wasn’t sure if you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, or if you were just being nice.

“The second one, definitely the second one,” you reply a little too quickly before he pulls your face to his, lips finally meeting.

His face was warm, and he smiled into the kiss, loving the way your round lips felt on his. He let his hands move to the sides of your face, cradling your jaw as his mouth moved against you. You pulled him closer to you by the grip you had on his t-shirt, the white fabric balled up in your nervous grip. You pulled him backwards with you, navigating your way down the hall.

Taking an intermission on the minute walk down to your bedroom, he presses you up against the wall of the hallway, shoulders angled above yours and mouth still hot against you. You reach your hands towards his, wanting to show him that he had control, that you wanted him to take control of you.

Getting your message, he takes your wrists together in one hand and pins them against the wall above you. His hips jut forward into yours as his wet kisses trail from the corner of your mouth down to your neck.

“Fuck, I-” you moan breathily as he sucks a spot below your ear, your hips rolling forward to meet his. All the while his grip remained tight on your wrists, keeping them steadily pinned above your head. You liked the feeling of letting go, having someone else control the situation. You were generally uptight and liked to take control in other aspects of your life, but this is one that you wanted to submit to.

“You what?” he responds with a steady voice, brown eyes burning holes into you. You knew your face was probably flushed red, hair a complete mess, and neck littered with splotches.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper shakily, “Please.”

Letting go of your arms and lifting you up by your thighs in one swift motion, he takes you by surprise as your face falls into his neck.

“This one yours?” he starts walking down to the end of the hall.

“Mhmm,” you mumble as you start to return the favor, licking up and down the base of his neck until you found his sweet spot. Suddenly you were falling back as he playfully tossed you onto your bed, sheets unmade, and blankets bunched up.

You land in a heap, quickly moving to take your shirt off. He moves quicker, practically tackling you down onto the mattress, causing you both to laugh a little.

“Hey,” he protests, “I wanted to do that.” He takes you hands and moves them as he had done before, and lifts your shirt off your body, you arch your back to help.

He slides his arm underneath you, causing your back to stay arched, pressing your chest into his. He slips his tongue back into your mouth, meanwhile he shimmies out of his jeans, letting them fall to the floor with your abandoned shirt.

Something between a gasp and a whimper escapes your lips as his other hand snakes its way into your damp underwear. Your hands lurch up into his hair, pulling his face into yours as he starts to draw slow circles up and down your lips.

He finally slips a finger into you, causing a guttural moan to stir deep in your throat. You bite your lip to hold the noises back, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly pumps into you. His face comes back into focus as he steadies your head, running his thumb across your lower lip, tugging it away from your teeth.

Instinctually you wrap your lips around his finger, letting your tongue drag itself across his digit. You open your mouth up from its pucker, letting him alternate his thumb with his index and middle fingers, letting those slip into your warm mouth as well. You match the movements of his hand in your pussy with your mouth, sucking down on his fingers every time he re-entered you.

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans, his cock throbbing in his boxer briefs, “I didn’t realize you’d be so dirty.”

You grew a little self-conscious at his comment, opening your mouth so he could remove his fingers.

“It’s so fucking sexy,” he drags the pads of his fingers down your tongue. He moves them down and drags the warm wetness from your saliva down your throat and onto your nipples that were now slipped out of the top of your bra.

You buck your hips into his hand and moan, loving the way he was above you, fucking you with his strong hand, fingers much bigger than your own. You felt his pulsing erection pressing into your lower thigh, and groaned at the thought of him filling you up.

“Tommy,” you didn’t mean to use the nickname, but it slipped out, “condoms are in the shoebox in my bedside drawer, if you want to fuck me.”

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean. Your eyelids fluttered at the sight, grinding your hips up into his to show him how bad you wanted him. His shirt came off and joined the pile of your clothes that was slowly growing larger on your floor. You expected him to be fit based on his arms, but he was stacked, built, unreal.

He clearly liked the attention, a cocky smile creeping across his face as your mouth hung slightly open, eyes dragging across his perfect body. He tugs on the waistband of your pants, that were mostly slipped off at this point, to signal to you to remove them while he rummaged through your bedside drawer.

You maneuver your way into a comfortable position, now completely naked, head resting back on a pillow. He was taking a little longer than you expected, pushing and prodding things around.

“They should be right there, blue box? Probably unopened?” you chuckle trying to make light of the situation. The smile is wiped clean off your face as soon as you heard a faint buzzing, then it stopped, then it started again. Condom in hand, as well as your purple vibrator, he climbs back on the bed up to you.

“You are dirty,” he says, trying not to laugh, “I fucking knew it.”

“Hey, you were not supposed to find that!” You try to snatch it out of his hand but he pulls away too quickly.

“You told me shoebox in the nightstand! What were you expecting me to find? You have like eight of these!”

“I do not own eight! I own five, and they are all different and special in their own ways!” you argue back, both laughing now as he jokingly pressed the vibrating wand into your side.

“You keep all kinds of fun stuff in there, huh?” he was not going to let it go. So what, you kept a few…personal items in a secret box in your nightstand, condoms included. You didn’t think he would look around and take an inventory. Your lack of finesse with strangers in bars was made up for by your wide array of battery-operated boyfriends. It wasn’t your fault that the online shop you ordered from sent free gifts when you spent over $100…like fuzzy handcuffs and cherry flavored lube.

The two of you laughed for a minute, both in nothing but your underwear. You were laughing, but the idea of him fucking you with one of your toys quickly made a crimson blush flush over your face. 

“Like I said darling,” he drags the vibrator down your stomach to meet your clothed pussy, “you’re fucking sexy.”

Your hips naturally buck up against his touch, arms snaking their way around his neck to pull his face down to yours. His strong fingers, much thicker than your own, re-entered you as he pressed the vibrator firmly against your clit. 

You couldn’t help but moan into his wet mouth as he fucked his fingers into you.

“Please,” you whimper, “fuck, Tom, please fuck me. I need you so bad.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he whispers into your ear, somehow making your pussy wetter than it already is. 

He pulls out of you, causing you to groan at the loss of contact. He tosses his boxers off, revealing his rock hard cock that springs up to his lower stomach. You mouth practically started watering at the sight. He pumps his hand a few times and then rolls the condom on.

You manage to move your shaky legs enough to slip your underwear and bra off. You didn’t have the mental capacity to be self conscious about being naked in front of him, because you were far too occupied drooling over his body. 

“How do you want me?” you ask innocently, not meaning to moan out the words as you did. 

“Flip over,” he gestures for you to get on all fours, and your knees got weak at the thought. 

You positioned your ass up in the air, open and ready for him. You let out a sharp breath as he slides the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing you before finally pushing inside. He only pushes in part way though, waiting for your reaction. 

“Fuck, Tommy,” you try to roll your hips back onto him, but he firmly grips your ass and keeps you in position. 

“You need to learn how to be patient, pretty girl,” he slowly pulls your hips back to meet his, agonizingly slow but so fucking good at the same time. 

Your eyes began to water because of how good his cock felt pushed all the way into you, you wanted him to move so bad, but he wanted to torture you, make you wait for it. 

“Please, will you please fuck me, I need it,” you sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you wanted him. 

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Quiet moans left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

As his long fingers move your hair behind your ear, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

He took that as a clear green light to yank back on your hair, causing your back to arch more. He keeps fucking you relentlessly, filling the room with sounds of skin slapping against skin. The obscene noises coming from your mouth only encouraged him to fuck you harder, pull your hair harder, grip your hips harder. 

With little warning you feel him suddenly slip out of you, and before you could turn around to ask how he wanted you next, you feel his hands grab tightly to the back of your thighs, keeping you propped up exactly as you are. You feel his hot tongue enter your warm pussy from the back, quickly licking wide stripes up your folds. 

“Holy shit,” your brain could not process the pleasure you were feeling fast enough. 

He starts to feel your thighs shake under his grasp, knowing that you are close. He wanted to make you come, and hard, as a special thank you for inviting him up to your place. And that he did. 

He sucked harshly on your clit, hips tilted all the way back for him, giving him perfect access. You couldn't even articulate to him how good he was making you feel. You were moaning so loud you were worried the neighbors could hear, so you take a fistful of sheets and bury your mouth in them, muffling your sounds. You legs began to violently shake as he lapped up your juices, bringing a harsh slap down onto your ass. Your hips fell to the mattress as soon as he let go. 

He grabs your waist and helps you flip over so you lay flat on your back. He hovers over you, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. You feel his hard cock pressing into your core, begging for entrance. 

“You good?” he asks as your eyes finally focus, your brain coming back down to earth, “do you want to keep going?” he asks genuinely.

“I’m so fucking good,” you bring him down into a more passionate kiss, pressing your hips up into his erection, “I want nothing more than for you to fuck the shit out of me.”

“Thank god, cuz I want to feel that pretty pussy of yours come all over my cock.” 

His words sent shivers down your spine, more so as he pushed back into your sopping wet cunt, finding a quick rhythm fucking into you. He presses your thighs back with his large hands, hitting you at the perfect angle. Your mouth gapes open watching his perfect body thrust into you. How the fuck did you get so lucky? Is this a dream? Possibly. 

You notice a smirk creep onto his face, he raises his eyebrows and gives you a look. 

“You didn’t think I forgot about this, did you?” he grabs the purple vibrator from the side of the bed and flicks the switch on. 

You all but explode as he brings it down to your throbbing clit. The addition of the vibrations to his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly sent you into one of the most body-shaking orgasms of all time. If that wasn’t enough, you open your eyes to see his perfect hand wrapping around your throat, applying exactly the right amount of pressure to your neck.

You can’t say anything other than his name over and over as your walls begin to contract around him. You throw your head back as you see stars. He lets his grip on your neck go and leans down to capture you in a kiss, wanting to connect with you as you reached your peak. 

Making intense eye contact, you watch as he bites his lip, savoring the feeling of you coming undone around him. You frantically bring your hands to the back of his head, tangling them in his messy hair as you come down from possibly the most intense orgasm of your life. 

“Holy fuck baby, feel so good around me, fuck, gonna make me come soon,” he pants between thrusts. 

“Mmmm,” you were still fucked-out from your orgasm, “I want it in my mouth.”

His eyes practically fell out of his head at your comment, lips coming down to attack your breasts that had been wildly bouncing each time he pressed into you. In one swift motion he managed to flip you over. You slide down between his legs and start pumping his cock, not wanting to lose momentum.

You wrap your lips around his head, feeling his shaft twitch under your hand. Swirling your tongue around the tip while quickly jerking him off quickly pushes him over the edge, his come filling your mouth along with your saliva. 

His hips jerk up as he comes, pushing his length further into your throat, but you don’t mind, in fact you kind of like it. You watch his expression as you swallow his come, making big doe eyes at him. You lick your lips a little and crawl back up to meet his face. 

Flopping down next to him, you let your sweaty body fall into rhythm with his deep breaths.    

“I-,” he starts, turning to meet your face, “I don’t even know what to say, that was fucking incredible.”

You turn your head away from him, pretending to act shy. 

“I fucking mean it, you’re perfect.”

Your cheeks actually turn pink at this. You press your head to his chest, telling him you liked it a lot too. More than liked it. 

“I don’t know if this is weird, if I should go…” he starts to move.

“Offer still stands of course,” you grab his hand, wanting to feel his chest against your cheek again, “couch or bed is all yours.”

“Bed please,” he flops back down next to you and lets you tangle up in his arms, “as long as we can do that again in the morning. You have all those fun toys, I need to try them all out on you.” 

The two of you quickly fall asleep, naked and basking in your post sex bliss, a huge smile on your face. 

The next morning you hear keys jangling in the front door. Opening your groggy eyes, you don’t have time to fully wake up and register what is happening before you hear Madison knocking at your door. 

She barges in, wanting to tell you all about her night with Haz. 

“Holy FUCK y/n, I-” she starts before seeing the figure next to you in bed. 

You frantically grab the sheets to cover yourself up and make a wild gesture to tell her to get out. She silently breaks into a huge grin, waving her arms around and pumping her fists in the air. You keep gesturing for her to get out, but she continues to victory dance on your behalf. 

You knew you would never hear the end of this. 

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 2.2}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Robin ended up in front of his office even before breakfast was over. She hadn't been in the mood for sitting with anyone, and stuffing her face with enough toast and tea to last the day had taken no more than ten minutes. Thus she stood frozen in front of the wooden door with a deep frown, wondering if he was the kind of person who got mad over people being too early. He probably was… thus she sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall across from the door to wait another ten or fifteen minutes. Since he had so kindly let her know the previous night that she wouldn't be out of detention quite possibly until after dinner, she had actually put on a thick turtleneck jumper over her usual long sleeves. The dungeons were quite cold, especially now that it was nearing December, and even though she loved the place more than quite possibly any other inside the castle, she didn't want to be chilly the entire day. She frowned to herself suddenly, as the idea entered her mind that Professor Snape might be wearing so many layers of fabric all the time because he was down here all day, every day. He must feel quite cold in winter… Robin wondered if he preferred cold weather to warm weather just like she did, too.

"When will you learn to just knock?"

Robin startled at the all too familiar voice, and had to put her head all the way back into her neck to look up at him while seated on the ground like this. "Professor Snape! I… I didn't hear you coming…"

"Obviously." He sighed. "Get up, we have a lot of work to do."

Robin did as she was told and followed him into the office, still feeling incredibly small next to him even though she was standing straight now. Had she always been this short…? Well, duh… obviously. Robin cringed inwardly as she realized that she was picking up on his speech patterns now as well. Then again, it happened with everyone she actually wanted to get along with, no matter if peers, teachers or strangers.

"What exactly is it that one does in detention, sir?" She asked then, to give herself a change of topic as well.

He let out a small snort in return, then cleared his throat in a vain attempt to cover up for it somehow. "This isn't detention, Miss Mitchell."

"But you said-"

"And now I say that it is not." He glared at her for a moment, then pointed her towards her usual chair. "If someone ends up asking about it however, it very much is."

"So detention is our cover story." Robin concluded as she sat down and watched with surprise as he for once got his own chair out from behind his desk to place it directly across from hers, without the table in the way. "But for what exactly?"

"You came to me with a solution for your own problem already at hand last night, and while your means may have turned out to be unsuitable for the purpose, I intend to supply you with a more appropriate one. Do you understand?"

Damn, why did he always have to say things in the most complicated way possible?! Let's see… she had come with a solution… ah! "So… you're saying that you liked my idea to find some kind of thing that would counteract his spell?"

"I wouldn't quite go as far as to say 'liked', but generally, yes."

"And since you said there is no book or potion that can help me… we're talking about an act here?"

"No. We are talking about occlumency." His voice was harsh, and Robin immediately felt like she had done something wrong. However seeing as her face fell, his tone strayed back into neutral territory. "I will try to teach you to resist the external penetration of the mind. A day does not nearly suffice to learn, leave alone master this rare and difficult skill, but seeing as Professor Morgan isn't the most… accomplished wizard, maybe the basics will do for now."

Robin's eyes widened in honest surprise, astonishment and an overwhelming gratitude she couldn't even begin to express. A chance was all she could've hoped for, and here he was giving fuel to that hope. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me. It is hard work to learn, and it certainly is going to be painful." He grumbled, but Robin didn't care. "It is nothing a second year student should even consider knowing about."

"And yet here we are…" Robin replied under her breath, but Snape ignored her and sat up straighter while keeping his gaze solely on her own.

"I understand your issues to lie with Professor Morgan rather than the magic itself, is that correct?" Once Robin nodded with an admittedly insecure frown, he continued. "In order to learn the art of occlumency, I will have to break into your mind, and you will try to resist. Do you understand that this is a serious invasion of your privacy?"

"Yes." She said, a little croaked, while trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. There was nothing she had to hide that he didn't already know about, really, there was no reason to be nervous. Only stupid childhood memories, fear and anxiety. Surely nothing he hadn't seen in other students before.

"Would you still like to proceed?"

"Yes." This time her reply came with more determination, and it indeed mirrored her sentiment. He was asking her permission for this, even though she had already once said that she wanted his help. He might not seem like the nicest or most trustworthy person to anyone else in the school or on the entire planet even, but if Robin trusted anyone in that moment, it was Severus Snape. "I want to learn this, professor, really. So just go ahead."

Without wasting any more time, he obviously quite gladly ignored the entire previous conversation and went straight into the topic. "I want you to clear your mind of every thought, every emotion, every memory. Keep your mind clear at all times, and do not. lose. focus." Once Robin nodded, he continued. "Closing your eyes should make it easier for a start. A direct gaze will make it easier for your opponent to enter your mind." Again, Robin nodded and closed her eyes like she had been instructed. "Prepare yourself, Miss Mitchell. This is not going to be pleasant."

Robin focused on keeping her mind blank, but how does one go about thinking not to think?! Was that even possible? Did it-

A startled gasp escaped her lips at the highly unpleasant, if not straight out torturous feeling of someone stabbing her conscience with a million needles, digging deeper and deeper into her brain. She let out a small cry, fingernails digging into the arms of her chair while her eyes remained squeezed shut in agony. In an instant the feeling was gone, leaving her breathless and confused.

"I told you it was painful." He said almost a little apologetically, but then his voice and expression shifted back to scolding. "And I told you to focus! Not to wail in fear and think about the nature of thinking!"

"Yes, sir…"

"Emotions are a weakness, a backdoor for people to use and manipulate you. Allow them to see your weakness and they will use it against you until your very demise. Protect your emotions. Shut them off." He explained entirely factually, before turning into command mode again. "Try again. And please, if that is not entirely impossible for you, focus!"

With a small nod Robin closed her eyes once more and took a deep breath. He was right, of course he was… she had to shut it all off. She had to try again. And again. And again.

… … …

They had been at it for hours already, and Robin hadn't gotten the least bit closer to accomplishing anything at all. She however did know now why Professor Snape had been so very insistent on her getting rest… this entire thing was beyond exhausting, and had she not been so very insistent on both learning the skill and not disappointing him, she would've given up before lunchtime.

Now however, an hour after dinner would've ended, she was still at it, and still trying to learn anything at all about bloody occlumency. Snape was scolding her half of the time and trying not to smack her the other half, and Robin could tell that he was growing increasingly impatient with her. Honestly, she couldn't even blame him for it. Her emotions and thoughts were all over the place, and the more worried she got about upsetting him, the worse she did in keeping him out of her mind. If he saw any of her worries and insecurities, he did remarkably well at not showing any reaction to it though.

"Come on, Mitchell! Are you even trying to resist?!" He snapped at her then, once again drawing her out of her thoughts.

"I am trying, sir!" Robin almost whined, fighting the tears in her eyes as she replied. "But the harder I try, the more difficult it gets…" It really was bloody ironic to think that the more she tried to suppress her emotions, the more desperately they came spilling out indeed. What the hell was she doing wrong?!

"I've seen muggles do better at this than you do…" He muttered more to himself than to her, fiddling with his sleeves in obvious frustration, and Robin thought she had never seen someone so young looking so old before. And it all was only her fault.

"I'm sorry…" She breathed as she looked down at her hands in her lap, still fighting the tears in her eyes in vain. He really didn't need to see even more of her being pathetically emotional.

"Don't be sorry. Be better." He replied in a surprisingly quiet voice that held no more scolding than Robin's did, and as twisted as it was, she knew that he was trying to encourage her. In his own weird way.

"I will." Robin said then, nodding her head to herself as if to make herself believe her own words. "Just… give me two minutes."

She needed reason, logic, a line to stand on to work from there. Reason… he certainly wouldn't tell her to be better if he didn't deem her capable of it. If he truly believed her to be as big of a dunderhead as he said he did, why would he still be here with her? Why would he spend his precious time on a goddamn weekend to teach her a skill she only needed because she was scared of another professor? He really must believe that she could do it. Maybe… it was time she started believing it for herself as well.

He had told her this morning to shut off her emotions, but her emotions had always run deeper than her mind's command. She couldn't simply shut them off, they were far too powerful for that. But she could do what she always did when they became too much: build a wall between her emotions and her reason. Separate her active mind from its core. That only left her mind to stay clear of superficial feelings and thoughts.

Feeling nothing, on the surface, was like feeling numb, wasn't it? And numbness she had a lot of experience with indeed. So instead of trying to feel nothing on the outside, to suppress what she did feel, Robin focused on the feeling of numbness she had grown more accustomed to ever since the start of term. Numbness was facts. Numbness was functioning without emotions

"Ready." She said, then released a slow and deliberate breath while closing her eyes, and waited for the needles in her brain to make her scream. But all she felt was a little prickle in the back of her head.

Mildly irritated, she opened her eyes to see if maybe he had stopped trying in the first place, but she only was met with the same intense gaze she had seen so many times before. The needles in her mind stung a little harder as she kept her eyes wide open, and she could tell that he saw her irritation. The question why it didn't hurt. Before she could help herself, she thought a quiet 'hello', even if only to test if it would work. The prickle in her mind stopped immediately, but Snape kept staring at her in surprise now.

"Was that… better?" Robin asked wearily as she dropped her internal wall, and the concern came right back. It hadn't hurt as much as before… but maybe she was growing numb to the pain too, and he would finally give up on her now.

"What did you do?" He asked in return, without answering her question in the first place.

"Uh, it's… I-I disconnected my brain from my emotions?" That sounded more like a suggestion than an answer, and thus she went on. "It's, uh… it's what I do when I feel too much, or when I don't want people to see how I truly feel. I know you said to shut off my emotions, and I really tried all day to do just that, but no matter what I did, I just… couldn't. So I tried it in my own way for once. If it didn't work, I'll stop, just tell me-"

"Do it again."

Robin barely had time to repeat her process of consciously disconnecting her actively processing brain from her emotions, memories and everything that made up her personality, before she felt the needles in her mind again. Or more precisely, a faint tingling in her brain. It wasn't all too unpleasant though, only little more than the very mild headache she got from focusing on keeping her wall up anyway, and thus Robin simply looked back at Professor Snape in the same manner as he was looking at her.

"Try thinking of an imagined scenario." He commanded then, focused but not menacing, and Robin followed his order immediately.

She thought of herself leaving the office, and walking up the spiral staircase, down the hallway past the many doors and towards the kitchen. She didn't really know what it looked like in there, so she made up a kitchen in her head, and how she snagged a piece of chocolate cake from a fridge. Then she dropped the scenario and focused back on the outside world, letting him see that she wondered what he was thinking now. The tingling in her mind stopped, but Robin found it difficult to shut off her numbness quite yet, so she simply stared at Snape while waiting for him to speak up first. He seemed to be doing the same however, and for a few minutes they both stared at each other in complete silence.

"Did you seriously have to imagine stealing chocolate cake?" He finally asked. "Or was that a memory?"

"I was feeling hungry. And I don't even know what the kitchen here looks like."

"Curious."

"Why?"

"Because I have known the real kitchens for a long time and yet did not doubt yours to be equally real."

"Is that good?"

"That would depend on the point of view. If one does consider your apparent talent for the subject to be 'good', then yes, that is good."

Robin's heart skipped a beat, and slowly her mind pieced itself back together in its normal ways. "I… I have a talent for it now?! You said literally five minutes ago that I was the biggest failure you had ever seen!"

Snape rolled his eyes and gave her a glare in feigned annoyance. "That was before you suddenly developed the ability to perfectly shield off entire parts of your mind!"

Robin's eyes widened at that and she found herself rather incredulous of what he was saying. "I actually shut you out completely?!"

"That you did."

"Wow…" She frowned to herself at first, then at him. "I don't know if that is even possible, but couldn't you simply try harder?"

Professor Snape scoffed at her remark, and rolled his eyes yet again. "Believe me, Miss Mitchell, what you did right there is all you will need to shut Professor Morgan out entirely."

"But…" Robin started, and only as he rose an eyebrow in question she allowed herself to continue. "I would like to know the limit of what you call 'talent'. Consider it practice, if you will. I just can't imagine that I could keep you out if you really tried to get into my mind, you know… I've only been able to do it twice, and you said it's a difficult skill to learn. I just can't imagine that I would be any good at it now, after a mere day of failing almost the entire time."

"Pride didn't suit you, Mitchell, but neither does exaggerated humbleness. But if you wish to test the limits, we will. It should be good practice indeed." With that he motioned for her to get ready, and sat up pin-straight.

The more Robin did this process of disconnection, consciously now instead of just by chance, the easier it became to do. More so than before, she focused on making her mind a mere mirror, a blank reflecting surface, before she looked Snape right back in the eye and nodded once. The feeling that followed was already a lot more intense, and Robin tensed up in return, which only worsened the unpleasant feeling inside her head.

"Relax, but focus." He reminded her as well, and Robin tried to consciously drop all stress from her body and mind. It lessened the discomfort for a moment, but he was quick to counter and soon Robin had to close her eyes to keep her barrier intact. It continued for roughly a minute, before finally she relented in both mental and physical exhaustion, causing him to come crashing into her brain like a bullet through rotten wood. The very moment he crossed her breaking point however, he stopped in an instant.

"Was that any good? Or did you not have to try at all?" Robin asked after a minute of silence, breathing a little more heavily than she would like in order to calm her heart and mind back down.

"Some would even say remarkably good." He mused, before he got up at last and moved his chair back to its rightful spot behind the desk. "I almost had to make an actual effort."

Robin scoffed, rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smirking nonetheless at his antics. "So you really think I'm good enough to keep Morgan out of my head?"

"Certainly." He sat back down, and folded his hands on the desk.

"Thank you." Robin gave him a smile, even if an exhausted one. "Really, I… You looked into my head, I'm sure you know how grateful I am."

"In fact, I do. Otherwise I would hardly have put up with you all day." He said absolutely neutrally, but upon Robin's slightly indignant look, the barely-even-there smirk just wouldn't stay off his face.

"I thought you did because you can't stand Professor Morgan either." She mused innocently, biting her bottom lip while her eyebrows rose. If he messed with her, she felt prone to return the favor.

The hard expression was back on his face in a second however, making it clear that the joking was over. "Do not believe for a moment that you know me or my intentions, Mitchell. I am obliged to take care of my students, however I would strongly advise you not to confuse my professional actions for my personal interests."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to appear disrespectful." Robin apologized immediately, even if she didn't entirely believe his words. He didn't seem to believe them either, but it was one of the many things Robin knew better than to address by now. It was none of her business, after all. "Anyway, I'm very grateful for your help."

"Officially this never happened, Miss Mitchell, and you have never heard a word about occlumency."

"Of course. I had an absolutely dreadful day in detention today, counting beetle eyes and unicorn hairs, should anyone ask." Robin lied with an innocent smile. "And you scolded me the entire time for not paying enough attention."

"Good." The underlying amusement returned to his face, and Robin felt pleased with herself immediately. Somehow, she preferred to see him happy, or as close as he could get to that anyway.

"Still, thank you for today's 'detention'."

"You had the idea, made the plan and sought a course to action by yourself. And as it turned out, you also discovered your own way to acquire a new skill by yourself." He raised an eyebrow at her in mock-confusion. "I had absolutely no part in this."

"Of course not, sir." Robin bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. "I promise."

"Indeed, I merely caused you pain and made you forego dinner." With an almost bored looking expression, he got out a piece of parchment and wrote down something in that spidery cursive Robin actually quite enjoyed looking at by now. It had an oddly pleasant aesthetic, and just enough sense of familiarity to be comforting. Then he folded the paper three times and handed it to her. "You should find out what the kitchens look like. Ask the house elves to make you whatever you would like."

"But sir, it's two hours past curfew…"

"Hence the note. Whoever tries to stop you will have to answer to me from now on. I do not wish to be bothered every time you happen to be out past curfew."

"Thank you, sir." Robin finally had to smile again. "Would you… like anything from the kitchens?"

"Don't try to be kind to me, Miss Mitchell, it's not worth your efforts." He replied surprisingly coldly, and picked up another empty piece of parchment. "That would be all."

"Well, I'm sure you will hear about tomorrow's outcomes before I get to tell you myself…" Robin's smile reduced to a crooked one. "Whatever happens, I will deny that you had any part in it."

"Hmm."

"Goodnight, professor."

"Good luck, Miss Mitchell."

With a small but sincere smile, Robin closed the office door behind herself and breathed in the cool air of the hallway. Well, who knew that detention could last well over twelve hours? But then again, it never had been detention in the first place. It had been something much more valuable. When this morning she had been but a bloody damsel in distress, she now was fairly decent at the basics of occlumency. One couldn't really expect more of a day's worth of practice.

With an almost happy sigh, Robin made her way up the staircase and down the hallways. Walking around the dark castle after curfew was way more fun than she had expected, especially considering that she had even been explicitly told to do so. It really was odd… whenever she knew Professor Snape to be on her side, there was barely anything that could stop her. He might not see it like that in return, but Robin considered him to be her biggest ally. Her only ally, actually, but a great one nonetheless. She only wished that there was anything she could help him with in return, for once.

Just as she rounded the next corner and crossed into the kitchens' hallway, she almost literally ran into Professor McGonagall. Who else would be patrolling tonight, huh? It wasn't really that Robin didn't like the transfiguration professor, but ever since the incidents of last March, there had been a mutual distrust between them, an air of unease and insecurity at least on Robin's part. She couldn't tell if the professor liked or despised her at all.

"Miss Mitchell! Why am I not at all surprised to see you wandering the corridors past curfew yet again?" The professor sighed, and put her hands on her hips in resignation. "What is your excuse this time?"

"Detention." Robin shrugged, and handed her professor the folded piece of parchment without another word.

McGonagall shot her a frowning glance, then read over the note in silence while her lips however formed the words as she read nonetheless. Robin still didn't understand a word, but it made her curious. Only once her professor had reached the end of the note, she looked at Robin with wide eyes, then at the note, back at Robin, and finally folded the paper and handed it back to Robin with a strange look on her face. Without another word, she stepped around Robin and continued her patrol without wasting another word on her or the incident.

Robin looked at the note in her hand with a frown, then over her shoulder, at the professor slowly vanishing in the distant darkness, and back down the hallway to the kitchen. Odd… but she was still in need of something to eat, and thus she made her way into the kitchen at last. It was nothing like she had imagined it to look like, not worse nor better though. A little more crowded with house elves, perhaps, but also very nice for a functional room almost nobody ever got to see.

"How may we help you, Miss?" One of them asked as soon as Robin closed the door behind herself quietly and stepped further into the large room.

"Uh, good evening." Robin gave them a small smile, which they reluctantly returned. "I was told I could find something to eat up here."

"Oh, certainly, Miss!" Came the immediate reply. "What would you like to have?"

"Do you have chocolate cake?" Robin asked with a hopeful expression on her face, and the house elves seemed fairly amused at her question, however not in a condescending kind of way.

"Certainly, Miss. Is that what you would like to have?"

"Yes, please. That would be very kind of you." She gave them another smile, and some of them giggled self-consciously in return.

"May I ask you a question, Miss?" A female elf asked, while a general commotion arose all throughout the kitchen.

"Of course!"

"What makes you come here so late in the evening? We rarely have students coming to the kitchen, leave alone at this time of night!" The elf asked curiously, and one of her peers nudged her in the side in return, but she kept looking up at Robin.

"Oh, you see, I was with Professor Snape until now. In detention, I mean." She shrugged, and sat down on one of the tiny chairs while waiting for her sweet dinner to be prepared. She actually felt quite guilty for just waiting around… "Is there anything I can do to, uh, help you? Or… do anything for you in return?"

"No, Miss, it's our pleasure to serve you."

"If you say so…" Robin sighed reluctantly, and waited for the remainder of the preparations in silence. When at last a small but beautiful chocolate cake was placed in front of her, her eyes lit up in immediate excitement. "Thank you so much, it's just perfect!"

And while the house elves giggled or grumbled once more and went to clean up after themselves, Robin happily cut off and dug into a piece of her cake. She had about three quarters of it (seeing as it really was a fairly small cake) before she felt filled up at last, and absolutely ready to just fall into bed. However she also couldn't really resist the idea that plopped into her head, and smiled to herself as she turned to one of the house elves once more. "Excuse me, is it true that you can teleport anything in Hogwarts from one place to another?"

"Yes, Miss! It's how we serve your meals every day."

"So… If I politely asked you to send this piece of chocolate cake to Professor Snape, could you do that for me?"

"Certainly! Is that what you would like, Miss?"

"I would like that very much indeed." Robin grinned, and with a snap of the elf's fingers, the cake disappeared right in front of her eyes.

"There you go, consider it done."

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." She smiled down at him happily, before turning to the rest of them and bidding her goodnight to them all, which was followed by even more giggles and grumbles.

On her way back to her dorm, Robin ran into Professor McGonagall once more, but the teacher merely nodded at Robin once in acknowledgement before moving along. Odd… Robin once again wondered what Snape had written on that note. Once she was in her room and had gotten ready for bed as quietly as she could to not wake up the other girl –even if they would most definitely deserve it–, she finally decided to give in to her curiosity. Casting a quiet lumos under her covers, she slowly unfolded the parchment to avoid noise. She really wasn't supposed to read this… but her curiosity was stronger than her wish to follow nonsensical rules. The short and to the point note only contained one single sentence:

‘I hereby give Miss Robin Mitchell the permanent permission to freely move around the castle at any time she sees fit. - Professor Severus Snape’

Again, Robin couldn't help but smile. He really must trust her if he allowed her to break curfew… but then again, he had spent hours looking into her head today. He hadn't seen everything, not even close to it, but obviously it had sufficed to know that she wouldn't ever abuse the little trust he put in her now. Was he even allowed to do such a thing as allowing her to walk around at will? Professor McGonagall at least hadn't questioned it, and she was deputy headmistress… maybe it was just fine, then.

Robin folded the note back together to how it had been and then even smaller, before storing it away in her locket as well. Who knew when a permit such as this might come in handy? She definitely didn't want to lose it, even if only as a reminder of today's 'detention'. As she placed her wand on her nightstand and laid down under her covers in darkness at last, she realized that today might just have been the first time in over two years that she had continuously been around the same person for a longer period of time without the desperate wish to escape and be by herself. Funny, in over twelve hours she hadn't even once thought that his company bothered her… And even funnier was that the one person she didn't feel bothered by was also the one person that bothered absolutely everyone else.

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[timelessbian]

feels like we’re going home

i started watching the owl house last week and the tl;dr is that i do not control the hyperfixation, so this happened. this takes place immediately following 1x13, so spoilers for that episode if you haven’t seen it yet.

also on ao3

It was strange, Eda thought as she flew towards Hexside. Luz had only been around for a few short weeks, but she had already become such a fixture in Eda’s life that Eda had spent most of the day pacing the house trying not to think about how Luz was doing at school while also trying to remember how exactly she had spent her time before all of this. Neither of those pursuits had been very successful, and she breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally time to pick up Luz.

Owlbert seemed to pick up on the change in her mood instantly, and he hooted as they neared the school.

“Shut it, you,” Eda snapped. “I’m not going soft, you’re going soft.” Owlbert didn’t respond, but Eda knew her palisman well enough to know that he wasn’t convinced.

She touched down at the edge of the courtyard, a good distance away from the gaggle of parents and witchlings. No matter what Bump had promised about keeping the eyes of the Emperor’s Coven off of her, she still wasn’t exactly eager to draw any attention to herself; especially not while Luz was so new.

It only took a few minutes before Eda spotted Luz chatting with the little Blight girl. When she saw Eda, though, her face lit up and she waved as she jogged over.

“So did you have a good…woah.” Eda trailed off as she took in the bright colors on Luz’s uniform that she was pretty sure hadn’t been there this morning. “Sweet mother of isles, what the heck did you get yourself into, kid?”

“Eda, you’re not going to believe the day I had!” Luz cried. “Principal Bump put me in the potions track, but I sort of accidentally did some oracle magic and I got put in detention, but then the inspector from the Emperor’s Coven turned out to be this giant snake monster and it was eating everyone’s magic, but we saved everyone and then Principal Bump decided the track rules were outdated, so I get to study in all the tracks now!”

Her entire speech was animated in classic Luz fashion, and Eda’s head was practically spinning trying to follow everything. “Okay, you’re going to have to walk me through that again just a little bit slower, I caught, like, none of that. Who’s eating magic monsters now?”

“Not important,” Luz said. “I mean, it was, and I’ll tell you about it all tonight, but hold on, I think Jerbo and Barcus already left, but I have another friend that I think would really love to meet you. I’ll be right back.” She dashed off across the courtyard before Eda had a chance to process her words.

“More friends?!”

As if on cue, King popped out of a nearby garbage can with a soft “Weh!” There were crumbs on his paws and something purple that looked like abomination goop saturating the end of the long red tie he almost certainly hadn’t been wearing that morning. “I know, right?” he said. “That kid could make friends in an empty box.”

Eda’s hands fell to her hips as she glared at the demon. “And just what have you been doing all day? I was looking for you at the house all afternoon. Or did you just forget that you’re supposed to be working for me?”

“Listen, sister, some of us have greater vocations in life than being a witch’s errand-demon. Mine is shaping the next generation of young minds, and I think that we teachers deserve a little more respect.”

“Forget I asked,” Eda said as she rolled her eyes. She caught sight of Luz coming back towards them, leading a pale girl with thorns around her brown ponytail and…was that a fish hook for an earring? Okay, maybe Eda was a little impressed.

Luz skidded to a stop, but the girl behind her had her eyes so firmly fixed on Eda that she nearly fell into Luz. She, too, was wearing a multicolored uniform, and there was an almost reverential look in her eyes that almost made Eda a little self-conscious. Almost.

“Eda, this is my new friend, Viney. Viney, meet Eda the Owl Lady,” Luz said proudly. “But you might know her better as—”

“Lord Calamity,” Viney breathed.

“Excuse me?” Eda glanced at Luz. “What’s going on here?”

“You created the Secret Room of Shortcuts!” Viney exclaimed. “Oh man, Jerbo’s never gonna believe this.”

“The room with all the doors?” Bits of memories started to appear in the back of Eda’s mind of slipping into secret passages to get out of trouble, eavesdropping on classes and conversations, meeting Lilith in between classes sometimes just to check in.  It was her grandest achievement by far, but one of the first to be forgotten almost as soon as she had dropped out. But this was hardly the time to unpack that, so she just smirked as she said, “We used to use that for all kinds of pranks back in the day. Bump still hasn’t found it yet?”

She noticed the glint in Luz’s eyes at the word ‘we.’ There were going to be a lot of questions later tonight, but after a day of silence broken only by Hooty, she’d take it.

Viney shook her head. “Nope. A couple of older kids showed us how to access the entrance in the detention room and we’ve been using it to study all kinds of magic all year. You’re basically our hero.”

“Happy to be of service,” Eda said. “I mean, it’s not exactly setting ghosts loose in a changing room or stealing teeth, but I’m glad it’s still getting put to good use.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of pranks too,” Viney said. “Your hexed graffiti is the coolest I’ve ever seen.”

“Ha! Use it well, kid,” Eda said. “And listen, I’m glad Bump is loosening up in his old age, but if you ever want to ditch this place, the Bad Girl Coven is always accepting applications.”

“Really?” Viney’s eyes grew wide and she looked from Eda to Luz and back again, but before she could reply, someone called her name from across the courtyard and Viney sighed. “That’s my mom. I have to go.” She turned to Eda and bowed her head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Calamity. See you tomorrow, Luz!” She turned and waved as she ran off again.

“So…,” Eda said after a long moment. “I take it school wasn’t as horrible as you thought?”

“No, it was great! I mean, aside from the basilisk almost stealing everyone’s magic and destroying the school, but as long as that’s not a regular thing, I think I’ll like it at here.”

“How in the heck did you take down a bas—” Eda stopped herself. “You know what? Maybe that’s a conversation we can have later. I’m just glad you had a good time. Which reminds me…” She paused to dig around in her hair until she found what she was looking for. It was the same round badge she had offered Luz that morning, except it had been altered to read Not a Quitter Badge. “It’s not much, but…I’m proud of you, kid.”

Luz gasped as she took the badge. “¡Es asombrosa! I love it!” She threw her arms around Eda, and even though it caught Eda more than a little off guard, she found herself hugging Luz back. After a moment that was somehow both too long and too short for Eda’s liking, Luz stepped back and pinned the badge to the front of her uniform and puffed out her chest proudly. “What do you think?”

Eda could feel her heart swell at the sight and she really hoped that Luz couldn’t tell how choked up she was as she said, “It looks great. And it’s almost certainly against the dress code, so that’s a bonus.”

The next thing Eda knew, Luz's arms were around her waist and hugging her tightly. The more surprising part, though, was that Eda had been ready for it.“Thank you, Eda,” Luz said.

Eda waved her hand nonchalantly as they broke apart. “Don’t mention it,” she said. “Just promise me you’ll beat some of my sister’s illusion records and that’ll be thanks enough.”

Luz’s face turned stony serious in an instant and she gave Eda a mock salute. “I’ll do my best,” she said.

“That’s good enough for me,” Eda said with a smile. She ruffled Luz’s hair and then dipped her staff so that they could both get on. “Now hop on,” she said. “I’ve got dinner cooking back at the house and I left Hooty watching it, so we should probably go.” She paused and frowned as she scanned the courtyard. “King!”

King scampered away from some kid’s bag lunch that had been abandoned on the cobblestones, but not without swiping a stack of cookies and leaving a trail of crumbs behind him. He hopped into the hood of Luz’s cowl and made himself comfortable. “Ugh. Teaching is rewarding and all, but I could use a vacation.”

Luz giggled and Eda rolled her eyes as Owlbert spread his wings and they lifted into the late afternoon sky.

“So,” Eda said. “In just one day you managed to get branded as a delinquent, save the school from a demon, become the first student in Hexside history to study all nine tracks, and on top of it all, you managed to break Bump’s will which is the one thing I never accomplished in my time there. How are you going to top all of that tomorrow?”

“I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” Luz replied. She was quiet for a moment, but just as the Owl House came into view between the trees, she asked, “So who’s ‘we’?”

Eda tipped the staff downward before pulling up hard just short of the grass. “Whoops, turbulence, I can’t hear you!”

Luz yelped and then laughed as they sped towards the house, and Eda couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as they touched down in front of a house that had only recently started to feel like a home with a kid who had quickly become a far bigger part of her life than Eda had ever imagined. Maybe she really was going soft after all. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.