#I think a certain pineapple should go hide

[wonwussy]

Your Gentleman

the graphic above was edited by @librarian-stacks do not remove the watermark and do not repost

pairing; joshua hong x afab reader

genre; SMUT (MINORS DNI)

notes/warnings; camboy!shua, voyeurism, exhibitionism, broadcasted oral (m), swallowing cum, pet names (for reader and viewers), very soft dom!shua if you squint and turn your head to the side 27 degrees, use of “sir”, TALK OF CONSENT (BECAUSE CONSENT IS SEXY Y’ALL); this is part of the collab with svthub

word count; 2202

“Do you want to join me on stream this weekend?”

You pause mid bite at your boyfriend’s question, a piece of pineapple falling into your lap. You’ve joined him on his stream before, helping out with certain subjects he was going over that night, so the question isn’t out of the ordinary, just… unexpected. “Uh, sure? What topic are you going over this time?” you ask, popping the stray pineapple piece into your mouth.

Joshua smirks as he reaches for another slice, leaning against the couch between your legs. “Oral,” he answers simply, before biting into his pizza.

Your eyebrows shoot up as you look down at him, noting the semi-smug look on his face. He knows you can’t say no, and you know he knows it. Oral with Joshu Hong is one of the activities you can’t turn down. It is too good and too enjoyable.

You quickly regain your composure and clear your throat, your eyes focusing on your slice. “Sure. I mean, sounds like fun,” you answer, trying to hide your arousal at the idea.

He wipes his hands on his sweatpants and shifts so he’s kneeling in front of you, smoothing his hands up your calves. “You sure? You know you can always say no.”

You smile as you comb your fingers through his hair, nodding slightly. “I’m sure. I’d hate for you to disappoint your audience,” you tease, squeezing the back of his neck gently.

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your bare knee. “Definitely don’t want that. They need their education.”

“Oh, right. The education. Because that’s why they’re watching you, huh?” you tease as you lean back against the couch cushions.

He fake pouts and nods, his hands sliding further up your legs. “Of course. That is why I do the streams. So they can learn.”

You snort, rolling your eyes at him. “Right. Okay, Professor.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pajama shorts. “Professor?”

“You’re telling me you don’t see them call you that in your chat?”

Joshua shrugs as you lift your hips, allowing him to remove your shorts and underwear. “I guess I don’t,” he replies, tossing your clothes aside. He leans over and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, smirking as you pull in a deep breath and scoot closer to him. “Now, I think we should go over the lesson plan,” he whispers.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

You shoot Joshua one last smile from your chair off camera, before he hits “start” on his stream, trying to keep your nerves in check. It isn’t that you are scared to join him on camera, but your nerves usually drove you nuts before you ever did anything. However, he always put you at ease, that when the time came, you never were nervous for very long.

“Hello, my dears. Good evening,” Joshua greets as his chat starts to fill, smiling at the camera that’s pointed to him on the bed. He’s only wearing black slacks, his shirt having never made it on to his body, and his square fashion glasses perched on his nose. He glances at you quickly and winks, before back at the camera as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You can’t help but roll your eyes as he answers some of the comments back, knowing he’s playing his persona up even more because you’re with him. And of course, his viewers are loving it. You look over at the monitor as his chat scrolls, quirking an eyebrow as the greetings fly by and tips start rolling in. He is as popular as ever.

“As you know, we’re going to have a special guest helping us tonight. You’ve seen them on here before, so I expect you all to behave and treat them with respect,” Joshua tells his viewers, peering over his glasses at the camera. “Now, many of you have been asking how to be better with oral sex, or even how to enjoy giving it more.”

He pauses as a quiet chuckle escapes his lips, letting his eyes drift over to you. “I promise, after tonight, you’re going to know just how enjoyable it can be,” he continues, winking at you.

You lick your lips as he speaks and quietly clear your throat, shifting slightly under his gaze. You both know you’re going to enjoy it. You just hope you can put on a good enough show for his viewers.

“As always, everything needs consent. Consent is important, and consent is sexy. My partner gave me their consent to join me, and for you all to watch. If you do not have consent, or consent is taken back, you do not go further or continue. This is important, and helps keep an understanding and honest relationship. Never be afraid to say no or tell someone to stop either. I say this every time, and I won’t stop saying it.”

You watch as Joshua smiles and sits up straight again, running a hand through his hair. “Now, shall we get started?” he asks. He reaches a hand out to you, beckoning you from your chair to join him. “Come on. We’re all waiting for you.”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth as you stand, smoothing your hands down the front of Joshua’s dark teal button up you are wearing. The one he chose for you to wear, knowing how well the color looks on you.

Your feet carry you across the room, and you place your hand into his as you stand between his legs, facing him. You smile as you reach down to comb your fingers through his hair and his hands slide over the backs of your bare thighs. “Hi,” you greet softly.

Joshua presses a kiss to your stomach over the shirt, before leaning around you to peer at the camera. “Everyone says hello, darling.” His hands are on your ass now, and he squeezes gently. “They do look good, huh? Wearing my shirt,” he says as he tugs the shirt back down over your backside.

“Thank you for picking it out for me,” you reply, this time loud enough for the microphone to pick up the sound of your voice.

He nods as he reaches up to undo the bottom most button. “Of course.” He pauses as he traces the band of your black lacy underwear from hip to hip. “Down on your knees, darling,” he instructs as he sits up straighter.

You nod as you rest your hands on his knees for leverage, slowly lowering yourself to your knees in front of him. Tonight, you know your role, and what is expected of you. To behave, do as he asks.

He smiles at you as you sit back on your heels, your hands sliding to his thighs as he leans back a little on his hands. His slacks are pulled tight across his form, and you can tell he’s already half hard. “One of the most important things to remember with oral is to relax. If you’re tense and stiff, and I don’t mean a stiff cock, it won’t be as fun,” he says as he looks back at the camera.

You lick your lips as you palm him through his pants, earning a quiet groan in return. “Are you relaxed, sir?” you ask with a teasing grin. “Or do you need some help with that?”

He chuckles as he reaches over to brush your hair behind your ears, shaking his head a little at you. “Don’t worry. I am plenty relaxed.”

You nod in silence again, before leaning over to kiss his cock over the fabric of his pants, smirking as you feel it twitch against your mouth. Tonight is definitely going to be a lot of fun, for the both of you.

Joshua takes one of your hands and guides it to his belt, prompting you to unbuckle it while he speaks. “Not everyone likes oral, and that’s okay. Never feel pressured to give or receive if you don’t enjoy it, and never pressure anyone to do the same,” he says as you start undoing his pants. He clicks a button on the small remote sitting next to him, and you know he switched the angles for the cameras for his viewers.

Your eyes travel upwards as he speaks, and you quirk an eyebrow at him, smoothing your hands over his thighs. “As sexy as consent is, you’re going to kill the mood,” you whisper at him, so only he can hear.

He chuckles and leans over to press his lips to yours, before moving his lips to your ear. “Don’t worry. My mouth will be put to good use shortly,” he whispers back, his eyes finding the camera in front of the bed.

“Good. Now, shut up,” you whisper back, before tugging his earlobe gently with your teeth.

You hear him pull in a sharp breath, and you can’t help but smirk up at him as he leans back again. “Hm. Okay,” he replies simply, and you know you’re going to reap the consequences (or benefits, rather) of it later. For now, he reaches over to smooth your hair back from your face, before he lifts his hips just enough for you to tug down his pants.

You toss his pants off to the side of the room and smooth your hands back up his legs, sliding them under his boxer briefs on his thighs. You gently rake your nails along his skin as you pull your hands back and back over the top of the fabric, working them up to his waist. “You’re beautiful. Has anyone told you that lately?” you ask as your eyes follow your hands.

Joshua lets out a half laugh and shakes his head, lifting his hips again as you tug his underwear down. “Probably, but I like hearing it from you the most,” he tells you as you look up at him.

Your hands stroke his now free cock, your thumb circling the head to collect the precum there, and you can’t help but smile at his words. Leave it to Joshua Hong to say some of the sweetest things when he’s about to get his dick sucked. You smile up at him, and instead of replying, you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it.

His head falls back with a muttered “fuck” under his breath, his fingers curling into the blanket beneath him. His eyes close as you move your mouth over him, shifting so he’s laying flat on his back. It takes nearly everything in him to not buck his hips upwards, letting you do the work yourself.

Your cheeks hollow out as you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. You can feel him hitting the back of your throat, and you moan around him, wrapping your hand at his base.

Your hand follows your mouth as you continue to work up and down his shaft, your free hand moving over his skin as you grip his hip. You feel his hand slide into your hair, and you lift your gaze to find him sitting up on one elbow, looking down at you.

His moans only grow louder as you continue, his fingers tightening in your hair the sloppier you get. Another obscenity falls from his lips as you pull off him, only for you to circle your tongue around his balls. Your hand still works up and down on his stiff cock, your spit and his precum working as lubricant.

“Fuck. You’re so good at that,” he mutters. His eyes flicker over to his monitor, and he smirks as he reads the chat. “They agree. They say it’s hot, and you look so pretty on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

You can feel your skin flush at the words, making you clench your pussy around nothing. “Thank you, sir,” you tell him in a low voice, before your mouth returns to him.

His hips stutter, and you can tell he is fighting to stay controlled as he nears his climax. It only spurs you on more, wanting him to unravel his gentleman persona as you continue to work your mouth and hand over him.

His grip on your hair tightens even more, sending small jolts of pleasure straight to your pussy, as he mutters obscenities as he finally cums on your mouth. You do your best to swallow it all as he unloads on your tongue, before pulling back as spit and cum drip from the corner of your lips. You swipe your tongue over the spot as you look up at him, smirking as he looks down at you.

“All of it?” he asks, reaching down to drag his thumb across your lips.

You nod as you bite at the pad of his thumb, before sitting back on your heels. “All of it, sir,” you reply.

He nods in satisfaction as he smiles, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Your turn,” he mutters, before winking at the camera behind you.

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

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[unholybinchicken]

WIP Wednesday*

(*technically Thursday because of the timezone)

Thanks @unholy-fabray for tagging me!

I'm going to share a snippet from the upcoming chapter of i'm open to falling from grace that I've been working on. I haven't updated the fic since September last year but should hopefully have some time over the weekend to work a bit more on chapter 3.

Tagging: @yourstreetserenade, @spacelizzbian, @genghisthebrain and anyone else who wants to share any WIPs

General premise: This story is part of my fic series 'this life, well it's slipping right through my hands', which is a coming of age series mostly Santana-centric but heavy focus on Brittana, as well as family/platonic relationships. This one is 10 chapters and centres around Kurt and Santana, a shared (traumatic) experience they had over the summer of 2010, the aftermath, and the life events that led to their summer. This story is non-linear and also deals with potentially triggering themes (reader discretion is advised; no trigger warnings needed for this particular snippet but relevant trigger warnings are listed on ao3).

As a new school year starts at William McKinley High School in dreary Lima, Ohio, two teenagers forced together in dire circumstances during a disastrous summer attempt to go back to normality ... whatever that means

Chapter 3 focuses on the relationship between Kurt and Finn.

August 27th, 2008

The day Kurt Hummel first saw Finn Hudson was not eventful.  The weather was ordinary and expected.  Kurt had eaten a completely normal, mundane breakfast of oatmeal and berries.  His father had, of course, enjoyed a Coke and a first-year mechanic’s leftover chocolate birthday cake.  Kurt had tried to subtly nudge his father in the direction of his own breakfast, citing its nutritional benefits, but Burt had refused and Kurt had decided not to push the matter.  He had far more pressing matters to deal with.

Specifically William McKinley High School and its mandatory gym class, which Kurt had the misfortune of sharing with a lot of the football players and cheerleaders from his grade.  People who were tall and appeared to have finished puberty long before Kurt had even started.  Some of them were actually younger than him.  All of them were younger than him, actually.  The universe really was unfair and out to get him.

The school administrators highlighted the likelihood of catching up physically to his peers, maybe even surpassing them, as a possible benefit to repeating third grade, something that his father welcomed.  It never happened.  He was older than his classmates, but certainly not bigger.

Compulsory gym class wasn’t new to him.  He’d had to endure it in middle school as well, but his middle school had been fairly tiny.  It had been mostly an artsy school; not necessarily advertised as such, but that was the culture.  It was the closest he’d ever come to liking school, and of course he had to graduate to high school.  William McKinley High School was known for a highly selective cheer squad and a losing football team, and not much else.

The worst thing about McKinley High was dodgeball in gym class.  A class he shared with a kid named Noah Puckerman, who was on the football team.  Kurt had never spoken to Noah Puckerman, but he was certain that he hated him.  

Noah hadn’t spoken to Kurt either, but he’d spoken at him.  Kurt didn’t think that counted.  Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he threw a large pineapple at Noah’s head.  Of course, he knew that wouldn’t end well, but one could only fantasise.  All he could do in gym class was watch in disgust as Noah ogled the cheerleaders in the class, not even trying to hide that he was trying to look up their skirts.

Coach Tanaka was about as interested in teaching freshman gym class as Kurt was in participating, and his lesson plan appeared to be just to let Noah Puckerman and a girl, who Noah had spent the last five minutes trying to flirt with, choose teams for a free-for-all volleyball match, while Tanaka ate a sub sandwich in a bid to nurse a hangover.  For a moment, Kurt deserately hoped that he might end up on Noah’s team.  It was wishful thinking, since the closest Noah had come to speaking to him was to shove him in a locker and call him a fairy, but it meant the luxury of avoiding being pelted with a volleyball.  

Unsurprisingly, Noah’s gangly friend, whose hair reminded Kurt of Astro Boy, was chosen first.  Kurt watched as person after person got chosen before him, fully expecting to be the last one standing, before he realised that his name had just been called.

Sort of.  The female captain, a dark-haired girl with braces, awkwardly pointed at him and said, “You, I guess.  I don’t know your name.”

He was relieved not to have been chosen last, but his heart sank when he realised he wouldn’t be immune to being pelted at by Puckerman.  He got up and joined the rest of his team, opting to stay out of everyone’s way.  

Sports had never been his thing.  His father had, to no avail, tried to engage him with them over the years, especially after his mother died.  Burt eventually gave up when an eleven-year-old Kurt spent the entire last half of a pee-wee hockey game in the stands doing Spice Girls dance moves, and the coach advised it would be best if they didn’t return, and that Kurt’s talents were better used elsewhere.  Burt was disappointed.  Kurt was relieved.

For the next few minutes, while everyone else tossed a volleyball from one side of the net to the other, Kurt watched Coach Tanaka, who appeared engrossed in his toenails.  Apparently they’d grown so long they resembled talons, something Kurt didn’t particularly enjoy thinking about but couldn’t look away from.  He was quickly snapped out of his reverie by a searing pain in the side of his head.  It all happened so quickly that he barely registered the air leave his lungs as he fell to the ground.  The only thing that cushioned him was the left shoe of the girl who’d, against her better judgement, chosen him to be on her team.

He opened his eyes and saw a figure standing over him.  A gangly figure, with dark, spiky hair.  Astro Boy.  Noah’s friend.  Kurt didn’t know his name.  This is embarrassing.  Normally I’m good at sports.”

“Shut up Finn,” the girl captain, whose name Kurt still didn’t know, said.  “No one cares.”

[mlmxreader]

Forced Strength | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ anonymous asked: May I please humbly request of you something using the following prompts for Alfie Solomons X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: “Quick! Hide me!”  (Hehehehe. CHAOS!! Make of that simple note what you will 😏) ❞

: ̗̀➛ war is not beautiful, nor is it just, and as much as Alfie tries to keep you safe, all he can do is fail time and time again.

: ̗̀➛ trauma, blood, shellshock, death, war

•──────────────────★•♛•★─────────────────•

The bombs were scattered amongst the barren and decaying fields; months of warfare, from flamethrowers to gas, had scarred the once bountiful and beautiful fields. Green turned to grey, and grey soon turned to brown as the mud overtook everything else.

The blood spilled on No Man’s Land would forever change the very nature of the soil; trees and bushes would never grow there again, grass would not grow there again, birds and mammals and insects would never return.

Larks used to sing bravely as they flew over the scar tissue; they had not been back since their last valiant flight. Their beautiful songs were now replaced with the anguished cries of dying men; men who called for their mothers and fathers as they felt their own souls being ripped into the soil.

It did not matter whether they were on one side or another, all men and boys would have their souls torn from them on No Man’s Land - one way or another. None was any different from the last.

Between the bombing and shelling and gas and flamethrowers and constant fire, there was an uneasy peace; peace filled with dread, anxiety, wondering if it was the end. Wondering if those were the last seconds before death.

Most cried and wept, some prayed, others merely stared out into nothing for seemingly a thousand yards; their gaze hazy and unfocused. Glassy from unshed tears. Their hands trembling, sweat dripping down their brows into dirty and unwashed uniforms; the dirt beneath their fingernails black instead of brown.

The chaos and destruction of the war festering in their minds so much that, if someone dropped a pot or anything of the sort, they would scream and run to the nearest hideout thinking it was a grenade thrown over to kill them all. The smell of pineapple and pepper still thick in the air, almost soupy and sickly.

The gas attack had been days ago, but the smell still clung, lingering. Reminding every man in the trenches that there was no escape. Death would come for them all. There was none who understood more than Captain Alfie Solomons.

He understood more than anyone that the war would leave a tremendous amount of destruction in its wake, but also that death was starving - No Man’s Land was merely a plethora of meals. Alfie had one man he was out to protect, and it wasn’t himself; his Corporal meant more to him than his own life did, and Alfie would have done anything to keep him safe and ensured that he was able to go home when the war eventually ended.

It was meant to end in December, nearly two years ago now. It didn’t seem like it was going to end any time soon. Alfie could see it, the never ending war. Especially now, as he sat by the small fire and tried to heat up a cup of tea; looking at the scared and worried soldiers amongst him, able to hone in on his Corporal with ease.

He beckoned you over, and you dared to sit down beside him. 

“Everything alright, Corporal?”

You shrugged, chewing at the inside of your lip. “We’re gonna die, ain’t we?”

“Wouldn’t say for certain,” Alfie sighed. “You never know.”

You grumbled, leaning into him a little bit; it always helped to have Alfie close. He made the waking nightmares a little easier to deal with, and the pains in your stomach calm slightly.

You were told a while ago that you should have left active duty after your shellshock, but you couldn’t bear to leave Alfie’s side; he had never forgiven you for that. For refusing to get out of the war when you had the chance, for being so stupidly loyal. He never would forgive you for that.

But then there was a clatter, and you suddenly ducked behind Alfie, trying to squirm into a hole in the trench; he looked at you, confused for a moment, until your loud scream pierced through. 

“Quick! Hide me!”

Alfie shook his head, scooting closer to you as he extended his hand; you latched onto it, clenching up and squeezing your eyes tightly shut. You were expecting another bomb to drop, or a grenade, he could see it now.

He gently rubbed his thumb along your knuckles, frowning as he sighed heavily and shook his head; you were getting worse by the day, he knew that there would be a day where the war would be over and you would still have the same reactions. He had heard whispers of it happening to others, and he wished he knew how to help.

You were his Corporal, the man he looked forward to seeing every morning when he first woke up and the last man he looked at every time he had a chance to sleep. You were his Corporal, the man he loved and the one he needed at his side the most.

The one he was doing his best to protect and had failed at doing so.

If anything, Alfie massively blamed himself for it all. He just wanted to protect you, but in protecting you, he had broken your mind - allowed it to become traumatised by the war. It was all his fault.

You squeezed his hand tightly, cowering in the hole as a whimper fell from your lips; Alfie sighed, sitting beside the hole and refusing to let go of your hand. He tried to hide his glassy and melancholic stare, but knew that he wouldn’t be able to do so forever; so he hung his head, and like so many others who were experiencing the war for what it really was, he wept softly.

The tears splashing in the muddy ground as he sniffled and brought his knees up slightly, his forehead pressed against them. He hoped that no one would catch him like that, even you. Alfie had to be strong for his men, but above all of them, he needed to be strong for you.

Alfie had to be strong for you.

[uniasus]

What would Sloane and the rest of the family's reaction to what Allison did to Luther be.

Oh, that's complicated and layered.

It comes out in stages.

In Reginald's universe, where Luther and Klaus are roommates, they end up having a really, really pitiful drinking game. If you share a memory/bit of history that the other person thinks a therapist would consider trauma, they drink. It's a weird, sorta emotionally safe way for them to both talk about what happened in their lives and get validation that it was awful. So less "You think that was bad, well here's what dad did to me!" and more "I agree what dad did to you was shitty enough for a shot."

So Klaus learns first, and he'd been the only person really willing to give Allison a chance right away but this changes that. It's after this drinking game that Klaus makes that phone call to Allison in Prove Me Worse.

From there, it slowly filters through the family. They know they have communication problems, but one of the ways they try to fix it is by gossiping about each other. They use it as a hivemind - what should we do? what should we say? It failed to identify what Viktor was hiding in Make Me Your Bomb, but does work here. Primarily because, sadly, both Klaus and Viktor have experience with sexual assault.

The solution is another drinking game - this time with all of them. Lila drinks pineapple juice though - she's pregnant and has a tart craving. And there's a whole lot of sharing about a lot of stuff. Some of it is repeats, just to more people, some of it is new. But that bad, shitty stuff? They air it all and it's a very good thing there's no powers between them because Viktor's book is totally something they spend a solid ten minutes on. But it allows them to acknowledge each other's tramas and in many cases learn there's someone in the family who understand part of what they went through.

After that though - it's not really brought up again. None of what they said. But it's there in the back of their minds, impacting how they interact with one another. Luther remembers from the elevator how good Viktor is at hiding tears, and so is always checking in on his emotional well-being. Five needs to know where they all are, so they regularly send messages like going to the store, who wants anything? or picking up a library hold, who else has stuff? Diego's hurt over the secrets Viktor spilled in his book means they develop a code about what's private and what's not. They learn the behaviors Klaus exhibits that mean he's craving a hit, the moment when to pull a tumbler away from Five. They say "I'm sorry" and "that's shitty" once, and then turn to actions.

In terms of how this translates to Allison's assault on Luther, the group avoids pool halls but a lot of Luther's triggers Sloane discovers after the reset. It's not the place of the SA that hits Luther, it's the command Allison used, a tone of voice in a certain situation, and so a sex game or two goes off the table.

In terms of how this impacts the group's relationship with Allison, things change as time goes on. Early after S3, they all pretty much avoid her. Klaus would have been willing to reach out if he hadn't learned what she did to Luther (the deal with dad is something he can forgive because hey, he thought dad had turned over a new leaf and could be trusted too). She's their sister, she's probably the reason they didn't all go poof like Sloane did. They keep tabs on her via tabloids, but otherwise, they carry on like she isn't their sister. She's hurt too many of them, in too many ways. They don't want her in their lives. Not someone they don't actually trust.

By the time the epilogue of 'Bomb comes around, the reasons not to trust her are smaller. Her power levels have been reduced, Viktor's sure enough of his powers he thinks he can stop her. The descent she'd been in at the hotel had been halted and reversed. More importantly, Allison makes the first move. She asks to join the family space again, with the gift of a night out on the town.

She misses them.

And they miss her too.

But just like all the stuff that came pouring out over tequila and vodka never got mentioned again, everything that Allison did never gets directly addressed. But Sissy watches to make sure Allison is never alone with Viktor or Harlan. Everyone makes sure Allison and Luther are not paired off, and Sloane checks in constantly that first harvest with Allison, even as Luther is checking in on Viktor.

You put the past behind you for the sake of the future you want. But you don't forget it.

[transmasc-wizard]

You said ask away so im here. But not really alistic just confused. How extreme can masking go? cause i cant tell if i just have some adhd with overlap or i was forced to hide unsightly symptoms. only reason this is a question is because almost everytime i hear someone offhandedly say 'oh thats a symptom of autism' i just though it was normal? like everyone feels like that all the time? anyways i am lost

(an example is like, i never understood that people really care about certain petty things. I was completely lost for years why people would get updet if they had a 'bit' {ie pineapple pizza. like you actually care what other people do or are you just making conversation} and wouldnt admit that that other people have different opinions and no one is really wrong) (also also people get mad at me for the above sometimes because saying that is taboo (?) or too preachy, so it should go unsaid.)

masking can go pretty far, it just depends on how possible it is for you (some people can mask perfectly, some cannot mask at all, i'm personally somewhere in the middle), and how willing you personally are to do it (because the more you mask, usually the more negatively it affects you). Plus uhhh it's. fairly common to think you're better at masking than you actually are. so there's that.

the whole "that thing is just normal though??" feeling is one i have like. weekly. and i am diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. so there's also that.

[kanonffa]

Wow...

Something will happen here...

Someone is going to get big soon ¬w¬

*insertar risa malvada*

[delaber]

Remember (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Bucky doesn't remember much but he remembers blond-haired, blue-eyed man.

Words: 1.3K

Bucky doesn't remember much.

He remembers what he did yesterday. And the day before. A few weeks back too and how he pulled an unconscious blond man away from certain death in the icy river. He doesn't remember why he felt inclined to save the slightly familiar stranger's life and flee to another continent afterwards, but he remembers the feeling of doing the right thing. Disobeying.

Still, he's bitten his nails down to the plate while sitting amongst rattling barrels of barley and wheat, nervously awaiting orders for what to do now that he is across the ocean - but the orders never come. He is a free man. He can do whatever he wants, he reminds himself and almost cries at the thought. He's not sure he likes it yet.

Thankfully, he is blissfully distracted when the freight train's rumbling engines come to a definitive halt, and he sees a sign in neat letters of some European city he's not sure he's ever heard of before. Bucuresti.

He traces the cursive letters with his eyes and hears the beautiful symphony of syllables when the conductor on the other side of the platform rolls it off her tongue. Bucuresti. Something about it emits peace, so without giving it a second thought, Bucky jumps out from his hiding place behind the barrels, tucks away his metal fingers in his pocket, and blends in with the masses of the city.

He keeps to himself while he walks around. He sleeps on benches, in parks, on dirty tiles in subway stations - but he likes the city. For the first few days, Bucky thinks it's because of the rest squeezed in between Bucu- and -i, but suddenly, foreign syllables spill automatically over his tongue and the sweet Romanian grandmother who is subletting a dingy apartment understands him when he in perfect Romanian asks for full discretion.

"I never rat on my own pack, fiul meu," she pats his cheek as if he is one of them. Calls him my son as if she trusts him with her life.

...Is he Romanian? Is that why Bucuresti seems to calm him? He doesn't feel Romanian - he feels more like a tourist, an intruder, someone who doesn't belong - not like someone's fiul.

So he continues his voluntary isolation while searching for answers.

So far, he's done everything he can think of. Yoga. Meditation. Eating the right things; plums, green beans, gagging on pineapple that he realises he hates. Nothing jogs his memory from before the train ride in and a vague memory of being called Soldat. Everything else is blank - well apart from the blond-haired, blue-eyed man from the river. The image of him has edged itself into Bucky's brain and it is driving him insane! He can't let go of the thought that maybe blond man holds the key to his past.

Cross-legged and desperate for answers, Bucky sits in the middle of his one-bedroom apartment while he tries to block out the musky smell of moulded wallpaper as he racks his brain for information on who he is. He sweats, and he grunts, and he gets so annoyed when everything remains blank that he yanks the elastic band out of the stupid bun on top of his head before he stops. Focuses on blending in instead, hoping to dear God that his brain will play along later.

He does what the people around him are doing. Buys a phone. Learns the internet. Meditates. Eats. Sleeps. Repeats. Googles "blond man, blue suit". "Man with star on chest". "Handsome blond". No result.

He knows he's seen him before. He knows!

"Come on, remember" he groans at night and squeezes his eyes shut. Presses in on his eyeballs so hard that he's kaleidoscoping. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes, he gets titbits, small glimpses of what he should remember. Mud. Gashing wounds. Harsh commandoes while his brain is being fried. Pliers. He tries to focus on the other stuff though. The pleasant stuff. Blond hair and blue eyes.

"Remember!" He hisses at himself, "Remember! Come on, Bucky!" It shoots out of him, and he freezes.

His eyes grow wide.

...Bucky?

Bucky?!

His name is Bucky!!! He lets his hands fall to his sides, stops the aggravating kaleidoscope while whispering to himself, "Bucky...". It sounds familiar, like the name of a long-lost lover. His name is Bucky - but that's not all though, is it? It doesn't seem like a first name, so he presses in on his eyeballs again and wrenches his brain. Waits for the other shoe to drop but falls asleep none the wiser.

It comes back to him a few days later. He's staring at the rusty shower head as he tries to wash off the most recent nightmare when suddenly, he remembers. His name is James! James Buchanan Barnes but he likes to be called Bucky! It sounds English. American. And suddenly, he remembers stars and stripes. His own palm pressed to his chest during the pledge of allegiance. He's American. He grew up in Brooklyn.

Excited that maybe pictures online can help him remember the rest, he jumps out of the shower, leaves wet footprints all over the floor while he marches to his phone and searches for pictures of Brooklyn ten years back. Then twenty. Thirty. Forty. But he has to go back almost seventy years before the pictures on his screen begin to look normal; the women are dressed differently, and the buildings look familiar. He remembers a particular street with a barber and a small store, and when he closes his eyes and goes back in time, blond man sitting by his side. He's smaller, thinner - but it's him. No doubt.

Bucky clicks an article with a vaguely familiar German name in the headline. It instinctively sends shivers down his spine - sounds like something he should remember, and he quickly learns that it is a name of war. That the young men in America were shipped off to the battlefields in Europe. Remembers that he was too. There's a muffled memory of men whispering the twenty-third psalm, of airstrikes and projectiles buried in mud, but when he filters through the rifles and the ear-splitting bombs, ignores the panic they induce, blond man is still by his side. He's bigger then. Taller, burlier, a war machine. Bucky's stomach churns at the thought. He remembers not liking that blond man has been turned into a weapon. He's Bucky's friend, not a symbol.

'That's why I pulled him from the river', Bucky thinks to himself. ‘We're friends.’

Friends. He remembers the feeling of having friends.

He's disappointed when the next few weeks bring him nothing. No titbits. No epiphanies. Not even when he's kaleidoscoping or meditating or splashing his face with cold water. But every night, he whispers to himself what he remembers. "My name is Bucky. I am from Brooklyn. I have a friend." But when he wakes up, he's always disappointed that nothing else has come back.

He walks around in a vegetative state for days, frustrated with himself and his inability to just fucking remember - until one day, he wakes up in the middle of the night after that nightmare. The worst of them all: the one with the free fall. It’s different than usual; this time he isn’t alone, his friend is there too. But Bucky is still bathed in sweat and his heart is pounding a mile a minute while the image of blond man's horrified face is etched in his mind’s eye. He can still hear him crying out his name, can see him desperately reach out from the train as Bucky falls into the abyss.

"It's Steve!" Bucky gasps almost as if he is drowning in it.

The name overpowers him, ties him to the bed while the memories flood his senses. Not just memories of death, and war, and the free fall, but of childhood, and love, and friendship.

Suddenly Bucky remembers every line, freckle, and wrinkle on his friend's face. Remembers his laugh, his scent, his courage, and the way the two of them were inseparable even after he became Captain America. "It's Steve," Bucky repeats and hears how a small, relieved chuckle escapes his struggling lungs amidst all the chaos. He can feel the tears well in his eyes. Tears of happiness and calmness because suddenly he remembers everything; who he is, what happened to him, but most importantly, he remembers Steve. His best friend, his companion, his Stevie.

"Blond man's name is Steve!" he laughs and reminisces who they used to be.

[sakuric]

birthday.

synopsis!it all happened with a cake and some cupcakes.

wc!2.2k

pairing!sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader

a/n!HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML!! have this one shot i wrote.

the early morning’s sun shone through the thin curtain of your window. you rubbed your eyes awake and stretched your arms over your head, before sliding the curtain to the right side and admiring the sunset. the way all the hues– orange, yellow, pink –mixed together reminded you of the way sakusa’s face would blush when you called him pet-names.

sakusa loved pet-names, and that was a thing no one knew about him, except for you. kiyoomi classified you as someone he could always trust, so he told you about his day first thing when he got back. you're his walking diary, and you didn't mind it.

he told you jokes that atsumu told him, he’d tell you about the way his favourite chemicals work, he’d show you a new way to spike or ask you to help him exercise his wrists.

you blasted your favourite songs, from the playlist you and kiyoomi created, while getting ready. today was a saturday, the least busy day of your week, so you decided to just roam the streets of tokyo and try to find something to spend your time on.

sakusa, on the other hand, was tracking how much his heartbeat rises whenever he looks at you. he had pictures of you, and himself, in a special folder in his phone, and choosing one of the pictures, he looked down at the fitbit on his wrist and saw his heartbeat rise.

he, also, decided to play some music while still thinking of you. he had a separate playlist on another music app (so you couldn't see it), and it was all songs that reminded him of you. the current song playing was yellow by coldplay. he knew that the song had a meaning, and he knew he had to find his own yellow, or soulmate as people like to say, yet he thought it’d be obsessive if he called you his soulmate. for that exact reason, he hid the playlist in another app, moved all the pictures with you into the hidden part of his gallery and tried to shake off any thoughts about you.

his fingers tapped the screen of his phone as he dialed your phone number, which he had memorised, before hovering his finger over the green ‘call’ button. what if you're busy? he wouldn't want to disturb your day, neither would he want to be annoying. he went over all the possible what if’s, and by the time he gathered the courage, you had facetimed him instead.

“hey, omi-omi,” you huffed, your breath creating warm fumes in the cold air. god, how he loved when you called him that; even if atsumu came up with the nickname, you saying it was a whole different feeling. if atsumu continued calling him that, he’d make a disgusted face and swat him away, however, when ‘omi-omi’ leaves your lips, his heart does a double backflip and lands into a split. he feels delighted and bright inside.

“hey, y/n.” he answered, checking his fitbit and seeing his heartbeat spike up higher than before. he hid that hand in his pocket as he started strutting around his living room while talking to you. you offered to meet up and spend the day together, as neither of you had any plans and were incredibly bored. (and it was also his birthday, which he thought you forgot about.)

“uh,” sakusa hesitated, calculating everything that could go wrong if he said yes, but then imagining you get upset if he said no. “..sure. let me get ready and i’ll meet you there.”

“yay!” you exclaimed, before blowing a kiss at him and ending the call. sakusa sighed, placing the phone in his pocket and getting ready to go out.

“omi!!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned down and wrapped his around your waist, pulling you into a warm and tight hug. sakusa pulled away after inhaling enough of your smell. (he didn't want to be weird, but he likes the perfume you use and how you overall smell.)

“let’s go to that café we always go to,” you smiled at him as you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the café. sakusa hated crowded places, you knew that, but he had given you consent to bring him anywhere as long as you're there with him.

he feels safe when you’re around him; you're like a walking home to him. he always feels comfortable, the way you’d feel sitting by a fireplace on a cold, winter morning. his hands don't feel weird holding yours, and if it was anyone else he’d hide his hands in his pockets, but he appreciated you and felt comfortable enough to, maybe, share some germs with you.

“hey, you okay?” you pouted, seeing sakusa’s eyebrows knitted and his face showing signs of overthinking; for the past few years of knowing sakusa, you picked up on his habits and the way he handled situations. he’d make a certain face when overthinking, secretly pinch the back of his hand when he’s nervous or jog a little faster when he’s excited to see you.

all of this knowledge about your best friend still didn't save you from what was about to come. sakusa gave you a bright smile, a prominent dimple decorating his cheek as he told you, “i’m okay, y/n. let’s go get the coffee and head to go shopping.”

“you..” a mumble left your lips as you placed a hand over your mouth. you were surprised– no, you were smitten. it felt like the whole world stopped and it was just you and him in the café, standing in line and looking at each others eyes. your heartbeat reached the highest of numbers as you felt the sight of sakusa’s dimples engrave his name into your heart.

“i.. what? do i have something on my face?” sakusa quickly put on his mask and hid his face behind the large palms of his hands. he was self-conscious about his own looks, even though he's been trending on social platforms for being one of the most handsome faces.

“no..” you hummed, still amazed by the way you couldn't notice it before. you grabbed his hands and removed them from his face, holding them tightly and saying, “you.. you have a dimple”

“oh, yeah.” sakusa let out a small chuckle. “it came up recently. did you like it?”

“i love it.”

sakusa blushed, but his mask concealed it completely. he motioned for you to go order first, as he ordered after you and you left the café with two coffee’s in both your hands. sakusa offered his hand, which you politely agreed to hold, and you both started walking towards one of the many shops.

“wait here,” you spoke, giving him a reassuring smile as you left him to sit at the bench outside of the cake shop. you decided to confess today, even though it was his birthday. it’d be like a gift, right? you ordered the cake and waited for it to be done. you saw sakusa doodling something on the small hand sanitizer bottle that he had gotten.

it was a pineapple scented hand sanitizer, one of your favourite scents. you knew he didn't like scented hand sanitizers, so why did he buy it? maybe it’s for a friend, a family member. either way, you smiled at the thought of omi finally finding a pair. he was always so closed off and never wanted to have a s/o, but maybe this change was good. good for both you and him.

what you didn't know, was that he didn't want an s/o, because he had you. he knew that one day, he’d gather enough courage and ask you out, ask you to be his. while waiting for you to get back, he took out the scented hand sanitizer and a pack of sticky notes, along with a pen. he came up with this idea while getting dressed to meet you. he thinks he’s ready.

you came back with a box of cupcakes and a cake box stacked on your hands. sakusa stood up and helped you by taking off the top box. (which, luckily, was only the cake.)

you decided to go back home before giving him the cupcakes. the train ride back was quiet, you both exhausted from walking and talking about nonsense. sakusa’s arm was draped around your shoulders, while the other one held the cake box. you got comfortable and placed your head on his shoulder while closing your eyes.

“don’t fall asleep yet, y/n.” sakusa huffed through his mask. you looked up at him, your eyes forming crescent moons as you smiled. he felt his heart flip and turn, tugging at his chest. his lungs tensed and it felt hard to breathe. “i won't fall asleep, omi-kun.” you grinned, turning your gaze down to where your phone was. you clicked the camera icon in the list of apps and turned it around to face you. sakusa noticed and put up a peace sign as you took a picture. you giggled and accidentally clicked the sound up button, which took a picture of you smiling brightly and sakusa’s eyes forming small crescent moons as he smiled slightly under his mask. the picture was unexpected, but it was one of the best you’ve ever taken.

“omi-kun! look at how pretty you look!” you exclaimed, zooming into his face in the picture. sakusa looked closely, trying to figure out what was ‘pretty’ about him in that picture.

“i don't see it.” sakusa raised a brow, admitting to not knowing how beautiful he was. you sighed, rolling your eyes and looking up at sakusa. “stop saying that, omi-omi. you’re handsome and you know that!” you pouted, which caused sakusa to smile a little. he knew he was handsome, but he enjoyed hearing you call him that.

“do you think i should post this?” you asked, typing out a caption under the said picture. sakusa eyed the caption; on the move with my favourite boy!! @msby.sakusa <3 . sakusa nodded and so you proceeded to hit ‘post’.

sakusa invited you to go to his house after the trip, which was unusual, because he doesn't prefer people entering his home. you carefully took off your shoes in the corridor and placed them in the right place before entering his home.

the house he had was located in the further east part of tokyo. it didn't have many houses around it, which seemed fitting for sakusa's taste. the interior part of his house was decorated with few paintings and other home decor. one of which caught your eye; it was a picture frame of him and the msby team, another picture frame next to it had you and sakusa in it. you softly ran your finger over sakusa’s face in the picture, smiling to yourself. sakusa quietly observed you from the doorway to his living room. he leaned on the wall, arms crossed on his chest and a small, genuine, smile on his face. you placed the picture down and turned to see sakusa eyeing you. a blush creeped upon your face as you fixed your hair and entered the living room.

“so, uhm..” you started. “i asked you to hang out because it's your birthday and i didn't want you to be alone during such a special day.” sakusa’s heart already melting at what was about to come. “i got you this cake, which you already saw, but i also got you these cupcakes. “ you handed him the box, which he opened. he widened his eyes at the icing on the cupcakes. each of the cupcakes spelled out “i like you.”, which sakusa thought was a dream. he quickly pulled out the sanitizer and note from his back pocket and gave it to you. “i guess both of us had something we wanted to confess…” sakusa spoke as you read the note.

y/n, i like you. be mine?

it was straight-forward, yet it made your heart flutter at such care. you returned your gaze at sakusa, who was still eyeing the cupcakes he had placed on the table. he looked back at you, opening his arms to embrace you in a hug, which you gladly took. pulling him in close, you hoped this moment would never end. his arms embraced you in the warmth of his body as he mumbled something into your hair. only a while after, you realised he kept saying ‘be mine, be mine, be mine’

“i’m yours, kiyoomi.” you answered, looking up at him. his face was painted a light shade of crimson, which you found cute. it was just like the sunset this morning, you thought. sakusa leaned in, hesitating to press his lips on yours. you noticed, and leaned in to save him the struggle.

you both pulled away after a while, both of your faces tinted with blush. sakusa let go of you and went to open the cake box. his heart strings tugged as he read what was written on the cake;

happy birthday, omi-kun ♡︎

and to his diary, kiyoomi spoke; “thank you for the best birthday i’ve ever had, darling.”

© all work written by sakuric is not to be posted on any other writing app or website without notice. if it is found to be reposted without consent, rightful action will be taken.

[genesisrose74]

I'm crying your so amazing at writing like honestly 😭. If you're still accepting fics can you please do more timeskip Hinata in Brazil please?

Rainy In Rio

A/n: Rio Hinata lives in my head rent free so thank you for giving me an excuse to write more for best boy 🥰 I researched the summers in Rio and nicknames they commonly use for significant others for absolute ages to get this accurate, but if anything needs correcting anyone please lemme know! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Despite the fact that rain starts falling significantly during January in Rio, Shoyo Hinata didn’t think it necessary to check the weather for the second week of the New Year. Nor did he think twice about inviting you to the sandy shores of the city during a morning of that second week to teach you more about sand volleyball.

The thought only occurred to him, in fact, when a handful of large water droplets fell from the sky and smacked him right on the forehead. Right in the middle of him showing you how to set on the beach.

You shoot him a questioning look as the first hints of precipitation plop down on your extended arms, which Hinata was currently in the process of positioning. His sheepish face already gives you an answer, but you decide to confirm your inference anyways.

“Shoyo, did you check the weather at all today?”

The guilty expression turns into a full fledged grimace when the rain only picks up, coming down in droves as every second passes. His tangerine hair quickly becomes a flattened mess as he opens his mouth to respond, body unmoving from his initial position. “Uhm, no?”

A sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head. “Good thing I left my phone at your place.”

When he does finally move, it’s only because you’re pulling at his athletic shirt to find a drier spot. He snags his backpack from the dampened sand, slinging it over his shoulder, and hurries to catch up with your speed walking.

Although you hold displeasure with your now very wet clothes, it's difficult to stay pouty at the boy when his puppy dog face is ever so visible in your peripheral vision. When you finally reach an overhang to wait out the unexpectedly harsh rainfall, he turns to you with desperate pleas for forgiveness on his tongue, but stops when he sees your slanted grin at his worry.

“You’re not upset?” he inquires with a tilt of his head.

“Why would I be that upset, silly?” you snort, “It’s just rain, and it’s not like I don’t forget to check the weather sometimes myself.”

Hinata’s signature smile erupts on his face, shooing away any previous anxiety from his expression. “Oh, thank goodness!”

Hinata rummages through his back to check on his valuables, most notably his phone, while you observe the current downpour. The weather doesn’t nip frostily against your skin, thankfully, since Rio’s summer temperatures remain quite warm even in the midst of the rainy season, but the heavy barrage from the sky is still quite the surprise for your now botched plans.

“It’s really coming down today,” you muse aloud, reaching out to feel the pitter-patter of water against your hand. Hinata comes up beside you with curious eyes, pulling a lightweight jacket he had spare in his bag over your shoulders.

“It really is,” he agrees. “Do you want to wait it out?”

“I’m not sure. It looks like it’s going to be pretty long until things let up.”

He glances your way with a playful smile. “I suppose I do owe you a drink after I’ve gotten you all soaked.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you hum. “Can we get some pineapple juice at the spot by your place?”

“Of course we can, bela querida.”

You can’t help the flustered giggle that passes your lips at the nickname, Shoyo’s rise in confidence since he arrived in Rio shining through - although his cheeks still blossom a very noticeable pink.

He offers a hand out to you in invitation, calloused fingers warm against your own when you accept, and the ginger-haired male hurriedly leads you through the less crowded streets of the city as raindrops continue barraging the area. The speed walking, half jogging pace you both keep up consists of kiddish laughter throughout, the knowledge of how ridiculous you likely seemed to bystanders prompting a heavy amount of giggling. Your haphazard grasp on the jacket just barely surrounding your figure doesn’t do much to reject the rainfall, but it becomes difficult to take notice nor care about its effectiveness.

Only a half-step in front, Hinata is also a cheerfully soaked mess. Hair once again flattens against his face as water cascades from the sky, backpack slung aimlessly over his shoulder and head tucked slightly downwards, with just enough vision to maneuver the city. The entertained smile that hasn’t yet left his face seems enough to dry the entire country within a minute, and a playful squeeze to the hand he holds effortlessly sends warmth through your body.

It doesn’t take very long to reach your desired destination in the mostly emptied walkways of Rio, populations already dissipated in favor of finding shelter. The woman at the cafe’s counter gives a knowing chuckle at your drenched presences in the doorway, and kindly takes Hinata’s order when he approaches with an apologetic grin - knowing very well that the main floor of the shop was now splashed with puddles left in his wake.

The lady doesn’t come to mind it in the slightest, though, conversing easily with the ginger about the major downpour outside. He wouldn’t know it himself, but Hinata held a certain charm that made it easy for people to warm up to him in a matter of minutes, and you noted that such a quality contributed to the employee’s momentary understanding with your situation.

Said Karasuno alumni returns to your side, who still stands on the cafe’s entrance mat beneath the building’s overhang.

“It’ll take a minute, but your ever-desired juice fill is on its way,” he informs you, and your delighted smile has Hinata’s own eyes glimmering with happiness. “Thank you very much.”

“You are very welcome.”

You glance at the sky for a moment, and your expression is much more cheeky than before as your gaze returns to his own. The male next to you offers a confused but curious look at the change. “What’s that face for?”

“I had an idea is all,” is what you respond with, which only intrigues him further.

“Care to explain what that idea might be?”

“Hm...how about I show you instead?”

Hinata nods his head, albeit a smidge hesitant. When you tug ever so gently on his arm, leading him towards the uncovered part of the walkway, the dots connect to discover what your plan was. At least slightly.

“You want to stand out in the rain now?” he inquires with a slanted grin.

“Not just stand,” you correct, feeling the first batch of droplets against your skin. “Dance.”

The look on his face shifts to one of playfulness, easily taking your hand in his just like before. Pulling you towards him in the empty street - with the exception of a few stragglers around looking for cover - his other hand quickly finds your waist.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he laughs warmly, examining your own joyful expression with endearment etched across his features.

“That makes two of us,” you agree.

His arm lifts to twirl you in a partially clumsy manner before bringing your arms around his shoulders again, leaning towards your ear and murmuring, “Do you think the cafe lady minds if we go back inside for the drinks in these soggy clothes?”

“Just stay on the mat outside so we don’t get the floor more wet than it already is, and I think it’ll be fine,” you reason.

“Fair enough.”

Hinata pulls back far enough to examine your face and brushes a wet strand of hair out of your eyes, encouraging your grin to widen with the gesture. He presses his lips to your forehead for a moment, his proximity radiating the same warmth it always seemed to maintain.

“I hope that it rains for at least a day, whenever you visit, from now on,” he thinks aloud.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“So we can dance like this again.”

Your heart grows impossibly softer in your chest, and you nestle your head into his nearly see-through shirt to hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “You smooth talker.”

He lets out an easy laugh, unraveling your arms from his neck and taking both your hands in his to see your face more clearly.

“I think the drinks are ready by now,” he comments, eyes suggesting a more teasing mood, but the rest of his expression immeasurably sweet. “We should go check.”

“You’re probably right,” you concede with the slightest hint of disappointment.

He swings your still intertwined fingers back and forth as you both walk towards the cafe entrance once more. “Let's do that again sometime soon.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth at your thoughts. “Call me next time it rains and I’ll book a flight.”

“I will absolutely be doing that,” Hinata snorts good-naturedly, but in his mind he truly considers it for a moment.

If it meant getting to do that more often, he would fly you out every rainy day without question.

[nothing-but-dreamy]

TRUE COLORS ~ Ch. 1

Summary:

Maya is the sister of Gary Kayes, the Chicken Feed food truck owner, and from time to time, she helps him out. Everything seems to be as usual until a certain android comes along.

Suddenly, she sees herself faced with the task to explain emotions to an android who seems to be kinda lost in the world.

Pairing: DBH!Connor x OC!Maya

Words: 1.450

Warnings: small cursing? (It's Hank you know....)

A/N: So, this is my first series for DBH. I hope you enjoy it, guys. Feedback is always appreciated. Have fun :)

It was raining… again… well, as always…

As Maya looked at the gray sky, she asked herself how much water could be held in clouds generally AND if Detroit was the only place on earth where it rained so much. The weather forecast already announced snow coming the next few days. Different weather phenomenon, still wet. Maya was sure she could already smell the upcoming weather change in the air. There was something special before it started to snow.

Gary, Maya's older brother and the proud owner of the Chicken Feed, greeted the next customer Pedro and brought her out of her thoughts back into reality.

As Pedro spotted Maya, he greeted her with a wide, winning smile, showing off his white teeth and curved one brow what should look like flirting she guessed.

"What a beautiful sight for sore eyes. You should show up more often, sweetheart."

"Come on, bro. You already know that: no flirting with my baby sister.", Gary said playfully very serious.

"Yeah.. yeah… yeah... Calm down Gary, you just think no one would ever be good enough for her."

"Because it's the truth.", Gary said convinced but with a smirk on his lips.

"Excuse me, brother, but do I have to say something about it, as well?", Maya asked with crossed arms and one tapping feet. Gary turned his head slowly into her direction and pretended to think.

"No, not really.", Gary admitted grinning and shook his head. Maya rolled with her eyes and caught sight of a familiar, old car that had just arrived: Hank Anderson. He came over for his usual lunch break. It seemed to be a day like everyone else. Hank left the car and crossed the street, almost hit by an independent driving taxi.

"Hey, Hank. The usual?", Gary asked as the older man stood in front of the truck. Hank nodded.

"Hey, Hank! Long time no see."

"Hey, Maya. Good to see you.", Hank greeted her with a smile.

"Plastic with you?", Gary asked as he saw the android sitting in Hank's car. Maya looked curiously into the same direction and tried to catch a glance at it. The android left the car and crossed the street to reconnect with its partner.

"Only temporary.", Hank answered after he gave Pedro a small amount of money for the next bet. Pedro waved goodbye and left. The android stood behind Hank and waited patiently. Hank needed a moment to realize that the android was behind him.

"Oh, god damnit!", Hank cursed as he noticed the android next to him. The android was soaked by the pouring rain but it didn't seem to care at all.

"You don't have to follow me around like a poodle!", Hank grunted but the android didn't seem to be impressed.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but my instructions are very clear.", the android answered. Maya noticed its smooth voice. She liked the sound of it and was intrigued immediately.

"Your new partner, Hank?", Maya asked very interested and looked at the android with a smile.

"Yeah...Unfortunately.",Hank muttered under his breath and rolled annoyed with his eyes.

"Don't listen to him. Hank's always a bit moody. I'm Maya. What’s your name?", she introduced herself to the android because she knew no one else would do it. It looked at her, inclining its head to the side. In that moment, she noticed the incredible warm shade of his soft brown eyes. As the light incided into them, she even noticed a hint of gold.

"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife.", he introduced himself politely.

"Nice to meet you, Connor.", Maya said smiling. The android watched her curiously, nodded and showed a soft smile as if he was imitating her behavior.

"Since when are you Hank's partner? I haven't seen you around here before."

"Officially, I became his partner today. But we already worked together yesterday."

“Every second is far too long.”, Hank muttered.

"Ignore him. He doesn't mean it like this.”

“Yes, I do!”, Hank insisted but Maya waved his complaint aside with her hand before she focused back on Connor.

“And how's working with Hank, so far? I hope it's not too challenging.", Maya asked and leant out of the truck while she listened to Connor with interest.

"I'm programmed to adjust to unpredictable human behaviour-"

"Here you go.", Gary said a bit louder than necessary and gave Hank the ordered food and drink to cut off the android. He shoved Maya out of the way to stop her conversation with Connor. Hank took the food and walked to the next table.

"Hey! Don't leave this thing here!", Gary shouted.

"Don't worry. It follows me everywhere.", Hank said. Connor looked after his partner excused himself from Maya politely and followed Hank as promised.

"See.", Hank said, pointing out. Maya turned back to work but now and then, she glanced over to the place where Connor stood, talking with Hank. She wasn't very good at hiding her curiosity because slowly, Gary appeared into her field of view and stood next to her.

"What are you staring at?", Gary asked as he saw that Maya was distracted by something.

"W-what? Nothing!", she hurried to say and turned away.

"Don't lie to me, little sister. Your attention has faded since this plastic thing appeared."

"Don't call him that! That's rude."

"And you shouldn't refer to it as him. That's rude to real living beings."

"I can't believe that you say things like this!"

"Maya, I don’t want to have this kind of conversation again with you!"

"Yeah...right...because you won't ever change your opinion.", she muttered annoyed.

"That's right.", Gary said seriously and turned back to the next customer.

Once again, Maya was distracted by the android. He spoke with Hank about something even if Hank didn't seem to be delighted about it. There were snippets she heard about calories in the food and a question about a highway earlier this day. Maya heard how Connor asked if Hank might want to know something about the android. Immediately, Maya had several questions in her mind she would like to ask. Hank shook his head but stopped and asked something about the androids goofy appearance and weird voice. Maya couldn't understand this point of view. Both were things she already liked about the android.

Maya was indeed fascinated by Connor. He was tall with a slim figure. His brown hair was looking soft with one hair flip falling into his face. Maya imagined how smoothly it would be if she would slide her fingers through it. Maybe it was as soft as feathers. She had never seen an android like him before with his fancy suit and friendly, polite appearance. Maybe humans would trust him more easily because he looked so...cute? CyberLife really outdone themself with this model.

"Come on! Stop that shit!", Gary muttered under his breath more angry as he saw Maya's glance at the android as it crossed the street to go back into Hank's car. Maya made a face and stuck out her tongue to her older brother.

Then, she had an idea. She took a cardboard cup and filled it with Hank's favorite lemonade: pineapple passion. She took the cup, put a straw in it and left the food truck under Gary’s observing glance.

"Here you go.", Maya said and placed the drink in front of Hank.

"Thanks but I.. I didn't order this."

"I know.. I-It's on the house.", Maya said and looked over to the car where Connor sat with closed eyes.

"Maya?"

"Y-yeah?", she responded...a bit too late. Hank noticed that and watched the young woman with a raised brow. He looked from her to his car and back at her.

"What's so interesting over there?", he asked even if he already knew the answer.

"Uhm, oh...nothing."

"Bullshit. You're watching the android, aren't you?", Hank stated and watched how Maya's cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Uhm.. w-what? No! No, of course not!", Maya chuckled nervously but Hank saw that it was a white lie.

"Maya?", Hank asked more serious to build a bit of pressure on the young woman.

"Connor seems to be nice.", she admitted low.

"This piece of plastic?", Hank asked confused with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Maya noticed it and frowned why everyone seemed to despise the android.

"I like him.", she admitted with a shrug and was about to leave but looked one last time to the car. Hank watched her closely. Two more times, the young woman looked over at his car before she bumped into the corner of the truck and finally, she disappeared inside.

[spinchip]

The What-Ifs

Summary: Zane and Nya discuss things that could have been while paired up on a mission together, finding maybe they’ve wanted the same thing all along.

Pairing: Braincellshipping

Wordcount: 1500

A/n: Nya and Jay have already been broken up for a while during this.

“I think about what-ifs, sometimes.” Nya’s not sure why she says it- probably a half-baked plan to break the awkward silence lingering between them, Zanes profile lit up by neon lights and the passing of cars headlights. Out of everyone, the two of them have spent the least amount of time alone together entirely because of her growing feelings and subsequent avoidance of said feelings- which led unintentionally to her avoiding him, and while she’d seen Lloyds considering look during meal times, she had never thought he’d stick them together like this. They had basically been partnered up on all missions the past few weeks, and while Nya was perfectly fine if she could keep her space, being so up-close and personal with Zane was making her tongue tie itself into knots. She was usually so good at knowing just what to say.

His eyes don’t break from the horizon, scanning the sidewalks, but his shoulders tense just slightly- she wouldn’t have been able to tell if not for the taxi that pulls around the corner, the headlights just barely reaching the alcove they had been holed away in, enough to catch the uncertain shift of his hoodie.

She scrambles, the implications of the statement hitting her too late, “Just- what if I had never said yes-?” cringing, she bites the rest of her sentence down, admitting a truth too raw in her haste to reassure him she hadn’t meant the Never Realm. Despite the shame making her face hot, she can't deny the relief that wiggles in her gut when his defensiveness drops for curiosity, his blue eyes pinning her with glowing interest.

Before he can ask for clarification like he clearly wants to, a shadow moves between the hustle and bustle of the street and Zanes eyes zero in. She picks up on the shift immediately, taking his elbow while he leads them into the crowd, seamlessly blending in with the other civilians enjoying the autumn night. Slowly, deliberately, they tail one of the Mechanics right hand goons, easily keeping pace with the man who seemed to have no idea how to avoid being followed. Zane wordlessly notifies the Ninjas group chat they’re on their mark, the others all spread out through out the city can relax. He doesn’t seem to have noticed the two ninja hot on his heels.

Though Nya does assume it would be hard to recognize the two of them like this, dressed down and casual, especially given Zanes human disguise and yellow hoodie and her own red jacket. If he was looking for white and grey, he’d pass right over them. Being dressed so informal seems to only make her even more paranoid, certain if they were caught they’d mess everything up trying to do spinjitzu in denim. A cool hand lays overtop hers where she’s been unwittingly squeezing his arm, and she wills herself to relax. They were just friends on a walk in the city, no need to be so on edge.

She focuses on the retreating man's back, letting the way Zanes' thumb passes over her knuckles remind her to stay calm, the motion soothing.

“So what was the question?” Zane asks and she inwardly cringes, it had been wishful thinking to believe he’d forgotten, “The one you wish you’d refused?”

“I don’t know if i said it that way…” She mutters, shoulders slumping. Exhaling, she decides it’d be a good idea to get the thought out of her head anyway, “I just wonder what could have happened if… if I…”

“You do not have to tell me.” He reassures her as she hesitates, curling his arm to cradle her hand in the crook of his elbow easier.

She swallows, “What if when Jay asked me on that date I said no?”

There’s a long pause, his hand stilling where he’d been comforting her, and she risks looking away from the man they were following to glance at him. His expression is surprised, but when he notices her gaze on him he tries to close it off quickly, “Oh.” He says simply.

“It’s not like I regret our relationship,” She winces, side stepping a group of people chatting outside a fancy restaurant, “We had some good times together, but I just… I wonder what I missed out on, sometimes. What could have been.”

The goon stops suddenly, turning around with a suspicious look on his face. Nya catches on first, shoving Zane nearly to the ground in her haste to hide them under the cover of one of the many food carts lining the street, the restaraunt advertising many different types of drinks and foods. She blows loose strands of hair from her face, peeking out from behind a weirded-out looking patron to see if they’d been spotted, Zane apologizing to the vendor for nearly knocking a rack of utensils over while she’s on lookout.

It seems they’d underestimated him. He’d disappeared into the crowd the moment their line of sight was broken. She curses under her breath, it was a busy Friday night and the streets were packed. It was lucky they’d even seen him in the first place, and now that he knew he might have been followed… She shares a grim look with Zane, pulling out her communicator to report back to Lloyd.

There’s a long crackle of static on the other line as Lloyd thinks, holding down the button until he’s ready to deliver their plan- which turns out to be no plan at all, “There’s nothing more we can do tonight. Finish up with a final sweep and we’ll meet back at the monastery later.” short and to the point. The patrons at the food stall seem to have caught on to exactly who their dinner guests are, whispering amongst themselves, and the Wwoman behind the counter’s eyes glitter as she pulls out her camera with hopeful eyes.

Zane shrugs blithely when Nya sends him a probing look, and they both lean over and pose with the owner while the older woman prods her patrons to snap a picture. One mini photo-shoot and some free Empanadas later and they were ducking back out onto the street, continuing their circuit of their designated lookout. Without thinking, she hooks her arm around his, linking them together again as they walk. It’s as natural as breathing.

She scans the crowd, nibbling on her food, when Zane announces in a tone that makes it clear he’s absolutely certain, “I would have asked you.”

She blinks, tilting her head as she puzzles the random words, “Huh?”

He looks at her, those brilliantly blue eyes earnest, “If you had said no to Jay.” He explains, “I would have asked you to dinner.” He smiles as if he hasn’t just pulled the rug from under her feet.

She’s so thrown she actually stops walking, and he jerks back as her hold on his arm stops him too, “You… what?”

He blinks, a flash of nerves making his shoulders hunch, “I think you are amazing.” Present tense. He still does.

They stand there on the sidewalk while she gawks up at him, only spurred back into walking when a passerby nudges past her. He awkwardly leads them through the streets as the city lives around them, thinking he’s said something wrong. She can’t find the right words to reassure him other than to say, “Well, what if you had asked?” She can feel him looking at her, but she doesn’t glance back, keeping her eyes on the crowd, “And what if I had said yes?”

He hums a little, glancing down at his sneakers as they walked, thinking, “I would have cooked.” he says obviously, “Your favorite: Baked macaroni and cheese- though that’s not your favorite now.” He says thoughtfully, “It is Pineapple fried rice, correct? I should make it more often.”

“No one else likes it though.” She says, looking up at him with a smile, warm fuzzies spreading across her face. He remembered her favorite foods.

He hums noncommittally and she gets the feeling he doesn’t care wether the others like it or not. Slowly she leans her head on his shoulder, lacing her fingers together where she’s been holding onto him to draw them closer together. She wonders how that night would have gone, if she would have been charmed by him, if it would have led to another dinner or a kiss. She wonders if it could have been Zane to offer her that promise ring, and if she would have gotten to keep it. What if.

The walk in silence for a long while, finishing off their impromptu dinner, coming to the end of their sweep. It feels so weirdly final, despite the fact they’d both be out here tomorrow night too, on the same hunt. It feels like a door is about to shut, one she desperately doesn’t want to close before she sees who’s behind it.

They come to the mouth of the alley they started the night in, both their bikes stored in the darkness and away from prying eyes, the shadows of the backstreet an ending she doesn’t want to face. She lets go of his elbow, standing underneath the lantern of the bar right next to them, only stopping him by catching his hand in hers while he’s still lit up by street lamps and restaurant signs. She’s always tried to be bold, when she knows what she wants, and she thinks she might have it figured out. He turns to face her, a inquiring tilt to his head.

“What if,” She says, smiling up into his questioning eyes, “I asked you to go on a date with me? Not the past, but here, now?”

He smiles and she can see him try to contain the happiness, his eyes flickering two shades brighter when he says, “I would say yes."

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.16}

*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, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"May I ask you something you might find rather odd?"

"Don't you always?" Robin chuckled softly. "You can ask and say anything at all, you know that. Odd isn't a thing between us anymore."

"Why does your hair smell so insufferably much like pineapple? You don't even like pineapples."

For a broken second, Robin was so surprised by the indeed quite unexpected question that she didn't react at all, then however she had to snort and finally just started laughing. Gods, what a question… whether he had meant to take the edge off the situation or not, his inquiry certainly had done just that. In a sudden mutual agreement that it might be better to let go of each other –better for whom, one might ask– they both removed their tight hold from the other and Robin took a tiny step backwards. Not enough to call it an appropriate distance, really, but enough to look at each other's faces again.

"I, uh…" She started, once she had more or less stopped laughing, and finally folded the letter and the permit back into the envelope. "I haven't really had the money to buy new shampoo after I'd run out, so I first borrowed from Jorien for half a month, and now ever since the beginning of October I've been borrowing from Cas, who unfortunately loves pineapples. That's why I smell like one currently."

"I see… Curious how I haven't noticed it before."

"Well, we don't really… get that close to each other so often." Robin shrugged, trying to suppress the sad subtones that wanted to sneak into the statement, and instead acted over it by removing her wand from the tousled damp mess on her head, now that she remembered that her hair still would have to dry at some point indeed. "And I literally just took a shower before coming here, so that should make the smell even more prominent as well. Sorry…"

"Not for that. But say, do I even want to know why you decided to take a shower in the middle of the night? On your birthday?"

"Cas smeared some sticky goo onto my face and it was really itchy and got stuck in my hair…" She rolled her eyes at the memory, and upon his questioning and slightly horrified expression, she snorted but went to explain. "It was just some kind of face mask, nothing gross! Well, actually, it was pretty vile, all pink and smelling horribly sweet, even worse than the pineapple!"

"Sounds like your evening with your roommates went exactly as expected."

"Well, part of it at least. At first we had tea and cake, which I very much enjoyed actually. They told me about the incident in class as well, even though they thought it was hilarious rather than annoying. But then I became subject to their idea of a girls' night, and that meant sticky goo and painted nails." Robin held up her hands with a humoured sigh to demonstrate Jorien's work. It actually looked quite good, or at least it had, before Robin had already chipped one nail in the shower. She couldn't bring herself to care enough to fix it though. "Then they tried to get me to talk about boys, which was the point where I shut down."

"I can imagine."

"They got me a lovely gift though; a framed photograph of the entire group. The girls and I, and Simon, Gideon and Michael. All sitting together in the great hall." Robin smiled, still very much happy about the picture. "There's so few photos of me and the people I care about. Honestly, I only have the conference photos from last year and the year prior, and either has about fifty strangers in it, but only one has you."

"Good. I doubt that I'm particularly photogenic."

"Neither am I, but I like looking at the picture nonetheless."

"You always were the most photogenic person in the entire newspaper. All three years of conferences."

"Thanks." Robin laughed, once again quite glad that it was too dark for him to really see her blushing. "Remind me to show you the horrible pictures of me as a toddler some time… You'll change your mind about me being photogenic then."

"Don't bet on it."

"Alright, I won't." Her smile turned warmer, less amused and more heartfelt. "But I'm still happy to have one more picture of the people I care about now."

"You should be. It is a nice gift indeed. An actual gift."

"Oh will you stop it now!" Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then couldn't help smiling up at him nonetheless. "I think your gift IS an actual gift! A perfect one! But if you just keep refusing to believe it, might I make a suggestion?"

"Don't you always?" He raised an eyebrow as he quoted her own words back to her with a not-smirk. "Go ahead."

"Go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday. I know you're not overly fond of being there while the students are roaming around, but you could consider it a gift to me, if the incredible one you've already given me just won't count for you. Which I still don't understand, by the way." She suggested, then went on with a small smirk. "I'm sure I can sell some stuff to the guy in that ingredients shop you sent me to forever ago."

"I will have to see it to believe it. Saturday it is." He replied and the corners of his lips quirked up more and more. "The man you're speaking of is a sleazy individual, ripping people off wherever he can, and getting him to pay a decent price will be practically impossible. But I will enjoy seeing you try."

"I can get him to pay any price you name." Robin teased with a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know what prices to set anyway, nor what the different objects are worth in theory. Just give me a number I can tell him, and you'll see me getting him to pay it."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Wanna bet?" She quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking openly with just a tad of mischief in her tone. There was no way she would lose this, she was certain of that. "If you deem me so unconvincing, you should have nothing to lose."

"If you insist. What stakes shall we set?"

"Loser buys the winner a drink afterwards, how about that? We should both be able to afford that much at that point."

"Agreed. It should make for an interesting Saturday either way." Snape seemed to be entirely amused by the idea at this point, and Robin wondered if he was actually serious about doubting her in the first place. He did know better than to question her abilities, especially those she actually believed in herself, and somehow she had the feeling that agreeing to this bet was his way of encouraging her to do her best on Saturday. But he might also just be wanting to buy her a drink. The thought made Robin grin even more, and she decided that she was fine with either version.

"I hope I'll make it to Saturday in the first place…" She said then, remembering that it was only Friday now, roughly around two in the morning. "The girls have made some plans for my birthday, but after this evening, I'm not sure if I will survive any more of their ideas."

"To your luck, they will be busy with classes for most of the day, much like myself unfortunately. Are you going to be assisting Pomona with the second years again?"

"Yeah, it's the only thing I have to do. It's fun, actually, when the students aren't being idiots. Gonna be an easy day."

"Perhaps you should go to bed now nonetheless. As much as I would like to sit down now and keep you here until morning, you certainly would be better off with some sleep before your roommates drag you into whatever schemes they have set up for the morning."

"Yeah… I should go." Robin sighed, and this time she didn't even bother trying to hide her sadness about the fact. "Don't forget about the salt thing though, yes? And please tell McGonagall; even if just for the sake of helping me keep my promise."

"I will." He replied as he followed Robin to the door, keeping his eyes on her as she stepped out into the hallway. "If your roommates haven't already claimed every single minute of your day by then, perhaps we could take a walk in the afternoon."

"I would like that very much." Robin smiled up at him too happily, in too much excitement, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He already knew that she loved spending time with him; he just didn't know all of the reasons. "But for now, goodnight."

"Get out of my sight already."

"As you wish." She grinned at his feigned annoyance and not-smirk, then made her way down the hallway and back towards her room, clutching her wand in one hand and the letter in the other. Surprisingly enough, this had been a great start to her birthday after all.

When she lay in bed a little while later, she could still feel the shadow of his touch along her spine, the brush of his fingertips on her sides, and it took her a while to fall asleep like that, when part of her mind wouldn't shut up and instead kept on wondering what it would've felt like without all the fabric in between his skin and her own.

… … …

Morning, as always, came way too soon, and Robin was woken up by two overly excited girls who then proceeded to dictate her every move. Luckily she could talk them out of painting her face this year, but they still put up her hair into an intricate braid before they finally made their way to breakfast while playing some kind of game Robin never quite understood the rules to in the first place. When they arrived in the great hall, they still were terribly early for once, as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table with the boys, who each proceeded to congratulate Robin as well, and she in return thanked them all, especially Simon for the idea with the picture.

Once the hall had filled up with students and staff alike –Robin took careful notice of the fact that McGonagall was once again sitting next to Snape, chatting away amicably while the latter looked indifferent as always– the beginning of the meal was announced, and the foods and drinks were sent up from the kitchens. The moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived, and when Robin looked around, she saw more excited faces than she dared to count. Obviously the news about the prank had made their rounds among the student body, and spread even beyond the Ravenclaw table. In the careful attempt not to be entirely obvious about it, Robin then observed Snape and McGonagall. Both of them went with coffee this morning, and if she wasn't mistaken, they both focused on their mugs a little too long before moving to drink at last. Neither of them pulled a face, nor did McGonagall falter in her one sided chat with the bored man next to her, which relieved Robin quite a bit. Once she looked over at Jorien, the girl mouthed a quiet 'thank you', to which Robin answered with a single subtle nod. Then both their attention was drawn back to the head table, when a happy coincidence decided that it should be Morgan who first made a show of spitting out his salted coffee in an indignant spout. A wave of giggles ran through the student body, and while more professors followed Morgan's example mere seconds later, the giggles turned into straight out laughter. McGonagall made an attempt to hide the fact that she had known in advance, going neatly along with the other professors' surprise and outrage, while Snape however merely let his eyes travel over the students in a menacing glare. When his eyes caught Robin's, however, his face brightened up ever so slightly with a not-smirk for a moment, then he continued his cold inspection of the tables and Robin turned back to her breakfast. Perhaps seeing Morgan spitting out his coffee had made her morning a little better after all, and knowing that Snape had succeeded to get McGonagall, out of all people, to play along with this scheme definitely made her both happy and proud.

The day then continued on quite as good as it had started. During the herbology class she helped with, Sprout not only congratulated her right away, but also gifted her a beautiful scalpel-like knife that was small in size, but sharper than Robin thought possible. The gesture honestly surprised her, but the herbology professor insisted that she couldn't continue watching Robin use that old rusty thing she had been using for both her in- and out-of-class work for the last two years. A little overwhelmed but very much grateful, Robin finally accepted the highly useful gift, and stored it in her pocket for now, just before first students filed into the greenhouse.

The next surprise came during lunch, when Robin found yet another wrapped gift waiting for her in her spot at the Ravenclaw table, where her small group of appreciated people was already awaiting her arrival. Upon Robin's inquiry about the package, they all shrugged and said it had just suddenly been there some time after they'd sat down. Her name was written on a piece of paper that was tugged into the wrapping, but she didn't quite recognise the handwriting. Odd… why were so many people giving her gifts for her birthday, all of a sudden? She appreciated it, of course, but it made her wonder nonetheless. Then, encouraged by her overly curious friends, Robin finally unwrapped the gift, only to reveal a small and desperately old looking book. 'The Unforgivable Curses: A detailed study'... The title alone made the hairs in Robin's neck stand up, while the small group of people around here was simply confused. Of course they understood the title, but they were just as clueless about who would give such a book to Robin as she herself was. There was no note, no letter, nothing but the slip of paper with her name on it, which she tugged in between the pages after briefly flipping through them in search for any more pleasant or unpleasant surprises. But it was just a book, a quite rare one if Robin wasn't entirely mistaken, and certainly not of the kind you would find in a school library. If anyone saw her with this, especially one of the professors, they might just think she was up to no good; thus Robin stored it away in her backpack, making sure to inspect it more thoroughly later today. Preferably together with Snape, he knew way more about these things than anyone else, and he appreciated a good mystery quite as much as she did.

After lunch, when Robin was just about to head to her room to pass the time and perhaps change into something warmer before Snape would be done with his classes for the day, she found herself stopped in her path, surprised yet again by something she hadn't quite expected. This time it was McGonagall who, after a quick glance down the hallway, first congratulated Robin, and then also thanked her for the indirect warning this morning. What surprised Robin however was when the professor took her hand, placed a small and surprisingly cold object in it, and then closed her fingers around it even before Robin could see what it was.

"You did not receive this from me, do you understand?" She asked with an intent look at Robin, who in return merely had the time to nod before the professor turned on her heels and was off down the hallway a second later.

Confused, Robin opened her hand again and her eyes fell onto a key that was now resting in her palm, heavy and cold and no less ancient than the book she had already received an hour earlier. What on earth was going on here that she was missing? What was this key for, in a school that –as far as Robin knew– locked all doors with magic anyway? And why was McGonagall so keen on keeping it a secret? Robin couldn't answer either question, but she hid the key in her locket anyway, to keep it safe until she knew what she was to do with it. Then she finally made for her room, with the intention to get some long overdue rest at last.

… … …

Shortly before four in the afternoon, Robin quietly let herself into Snape's office during the last minutes of the class he was teaching next door. She had indeed changed into something warm enough to be comfortable outside (for once!), and then thought it a nice idea to pick him up here to go for her promised walk. That at least would give them a good two hours before dinner, and thus enough time to actually get away from the castle for a little while. Content with her plan, Robin took her perch on the edge of the desk, not bothering to sit down properly for the little time she planned to stay here. It wasn't long indeed before the door between office and classroom flew open, and a very much annoyed Snape stormed into the room, throwing the door shut behind himself again without looking back. Still it took a few seconds for his eyes to find Robin's, but then he stopped in his track while the tension remained written all over his features.

"Don't." Was all he said in a deep and warning tone, and Robin knew very well what he meant, but she just couldn't help it. She had to smile, brightly and without any attempt to hide it, and he rolled his eyes in return, the tension fleeting, while he tried not to smile in return. "You are insufferable. Just let me be angry in peace."

"I'd rather not. Because I can't be happy when you're upset, so logically I will have to see to it that you're happy. For my own sake." She shrugged easily, and her eyes followed him as he moved to drop a stack of notebooks next to her on the desk. "And I'm here to claim what's been promised to me. Before you can find a way to get out of it."

"Whyever would I want to? Wasn't it I who asked for a moment of your precious time in the first place?" He raised his eyebrows at her for a second, then grabbed his warmer robes from the back of his chair. "I would hardly want to miss the narrow time frame I was given to spend with you."

"Oh come on, I'm not that busy! You're the one who had to teach all day… I've just been in my room ever since lunch."

"Napping, as it seems." He quipped, finally unable to keep the not-smirk off his face, and Robin felt called out immediately.

"How the hell do you know that again?"

"Your hair tells me all about it. Admittedly, the difference from lunch to now is very subtle, especially with the braid, but I know what you look like when you wake up. I've seen it before."

The blush that rose to Robin's face immediately was accompanied by a wave of tingles that were equally a result of his words and her own imagination. Yes, they had woken up in the same room before. But not together, in the way she would've liked. Not the time to think about that now.

"Well, you caught me." Robin finally replied, forcing away the previous string of thoughts. "I was napping because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I'm fine with little sleep, generally, but less than two hours isn't enough even for me. With the two herbology classes of the first and second years this morning, on top of two meals with the girls, I honestly just needed some rest."

"What kept you from getting a good night's sleep in the first place?" He asked in return, as they left the office and started making their way outside, unseen as always, through the many rooms and passages Robin found herself actually able to remember at this point. She had no idea how Snape even knew about all these shortcuts and secret paths in the castle, but she was glad to have learned about them too. Wandering around unseen was a lot easier like this.

"Oh, you know… just too many thoughts spinning in my mind." She shrugged, careful not to let slip that it had been thoughts about him that had kept her awake. Thoughts about them, together.

"I understand. Your visit also left me thinking for quite a while." He said, as they arrived at the foot of the hill, under the open grey sky at last. "I have come to the conclusion, for example, that you were right. My gift to you may be considered a gift indeed."

"Where did that change of mind come from?"

"I couldn't find an argument against yours. Giving someone a gift is an act of caring, and as you rightly so pointed out, caring extends way beyond the material. Thus a gift should be judged by the amount of care put into it, not its material worth."

"That's pretty much what I was trying to say last night, yes." Robin smiled up at him, doing her best not to trip over anything while they made their way towards their by now common favorite place outside the castle. The shoreline of the lake. "I received three more gifts today, even though I'm not so sure if the latter two go by our definition of 'gift' in that sense. The care as well as the message behind them are kinda, well, untranslatable to me. Anyway, I've been dying to tell you about it all day."

"I'm listening. And intrigued, seeing as once again you just have to build up suspense."

"Well, first there was Sprout." Robin started, in ignorance of his second comment, and pulled the delicately ornamented knife out of her robes, showing it to Snape with a smile. "I was quite surprised that she got me a gift at all, to be honest. We've gotten a bit closer through my assistance in her classes, but I didn't think she liked me enough to even remember my birthday, leave alone to get me anything."

"She gushes about you all the time actually, in the staff room, or during meals… It seems to be one of her favourite pastimes to tell everyone, especially me, about your brilliant work." Snape replied, then handed the knife back to Robin who slipped it back into her pocket. "I'm not surprised that she would give you a present such as this; she holds you in a higher regard than she does with most of her colleagues."

"I certainly appreciate it. The gift, and that she's obviously quite fond of me too. Especially since the other two items that were given to me today are way more confusing in their nature and their circumstances."

"I know you received a book during lunch. What was that about?"

"I haven't got even the slightest idea. Nobody knows who it's from or why it was given to me, and I was hoping you could help me solve this mystery." She said, and summoned the object in discussion from her bag, once again handing it to Snape. "There's a piece of paper inside with my name on it, perhaps the handwriting will tell you more."

He stopped walking once his eyes fell onto the title of the book, and he inspected it for a moment longer until he looked up at Robin once again, in sincere surprise. "I have heard of this book, but admittedly I believed it to be nothing more than a myth. It still might be a mere joke; we will have to find out about that."

"What's special about it? It probably contains a bit more information than we are taught here at school, but that can't be it, right?"

"Supposedly, it contains methods to resist all three of the unforgivable curses. I highly doubt that rumour however, for obvious reasons."

"Obvious to you, perhaps. Enlighten me."

"If there was a way you could cheat a curse that was banned by the ministry, wouldn't they have an interest in making that knowledge known and thereby eradicate the usefulness of such curses in the first place?"

"That definitely makes sense. But perhaps they also believe the book and thus the methods to be nothing more than a myth? Either way, I have this book now, and I have no idea who gave it to me."

"I could give you an answer to that even without looking at the handwriting." Snape scoffed, but opened the book and inspected the snippet of paper nonetheless. "Quite obviously, Professor Dumbledore has an interest in it that you become better acquainted with these curses. I don't have to tell you that this isn't a good sign."

"No…" Robin breathed in return, and if she was honest with herself, she could also have guessed by herself that it was the headmaster who had given the book to her. "If Dumbledore wants me to read this, I bloody better should. No matter what his intention behind it is."

"Indeed. I would ask him about it, but he hasn't been letting me in on anything of importance for a while now, and I doubt that he would give me an honest answer even if I tried. We are better off drawing our own conclusions from now on. May I read the book, once you have?"

"Obviously! It's really not much of a gift and more of a homework assignment the headmaster expects us both to do."

"An oddly fitting way to describe it. Tell me, if that was the second 'gift', what is the third?"

"Something I understand even less." She sighed, then fiddled the key out of her locket to hand it over too. "This was given to me without a comment, without context, and with the instruction to not reveal who gave it to me."

"That certainly-..."

"It was McGonagall." Robin shrugged with one shoulder, giving him a small smile which only widened as his brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm not keeping secrets from you, and she certainly knows that. But I have every intention to keep her involvement a secret from absolutely everyone else."

"If she was concerned about keeping it a secret in the first place, it likely means that Dumbledore doesn't know. This in return means that whatever his reason might be for not wanting you to have the key, it isn't to your advantage. But the key likely is."

"Why do you think so?"

"Dumbledore has long lost his conscience between the bigger picture and his own ambitions, but Minerva will do what she can to protect the innocent from any misfortune. And if said misfortune was caused or tolerated by the headmaster, I believe she will go against his wishes to act on her own conscience instead. Put differently, Dumbledore's concern lies with the school, and its place in the grand scheme of things. Minerva's concern lies with the learning and wellbeing of both students and staff."

"But… that would mean that Dumbledore is willingly letting something bad happen to me. And McGonagall is trying to protect me from it, even though Dumbledore doesn't want her to."

"So far my theory at least, but I have no proof of it other than both our past experiences. It certainly would make sense in the context of both her own words after the incident with Morgan on the first night of term, and also the fact that Dumbledore gave you the book now."

"Oh great…" Robin groaned under her breath and let herself fall back against the tree behind her. "What have I done that makes me everyone's favourite victim? First Morgan, now Dumbledore, and well… There's literally an entire school full of people to pick on! Why do they keep choosing me?"

"I have another question for you. Why does Minerva believe that an old key will help you against either of them?"

"Yes. Great! Thank you for making matters even more complicated." She rolled her eyes with a huff, but felt bad for it immediately. Time to be better than her emotions. "Sorry… that was really unfair. None of this is your fault."

"It's quite alright." He replied calmly and took the remaining two steps to stand in front of Robin, handing her the book and the key. "I can't say I'm not equally concerned about these developments."

"I just can't get rid of the feeling that it all comes down to Morgan somehow. If McGonagall is the proof of a connecting point, back on the day of the welcoming feast and today, it means that Dumbledore sees Morgan as he is, as a threat, but doesn't want to do anything about it. Not because he doesn't care about Morgan's actions, but because he has some grand scheme in mind where Morgan is a chess piece of yet unknown importance and I'm just a casualty he's willing to sacrifice for whatever greater cause. And McGonagall doesn't want that to happen, but she also can't tell me about it because he doesn't want her to. Does that even make any sense? This is a school and not some bloody thriller!" She scoffed as she returned the book to her bag and the key to her locket, then however didn't lean back against the tree. There was too much tension in her body, too much anxiety in her mind, and thus she simply looked up at Snape with an almost sad expression. "Honestly, what am I missing here? I just… I don't understand what's going on anymore."

"Right now, all that matters is that you are out here, with me. You are supposed to have an enjoyable birthday and not a mental breakdown over people who definitely do not deserve it." He said while lightly tracing the outside of her hand with one finger, and when the gesture made Robin smile instinctively, he took her hand entirely and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We will find answers to all the questions, given the right time and opportunity. You and me together, like always. Yes?"

"Yes." Robin sighed, and her smile broadened into a real one that captured the rest of her face as well. "Let's walk on then, shall we? You could tell me what the fifth years did that was so terribly annoying during your last class."

"The better question would be what they didn't do to annoy me. I cannot believe I have to get those dunderheads through their OWLs at the end of the year." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and slowly let go of Robin's hand as they sauntered on, along the shoreline. Oh well… Robin was happy about the gesture nonetheless; as small and fleeting as it had been, it had been initiated entirely by him for once.

"You better start telling me then." She suggested, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smile. "If it's such a long list. What did they do wrong this time?"

"Would you like me to answer chronologically or alphabetically?"

_____________________________

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Diary of the Writing Raven

Part 3 of the 1000+ follower milestone! A continuation of Raven lore (check out part 1 and part 2 for more context)!

Today, we will peak into the raven’s diary. Shhh, don’t tell anyone. The bulk of the entries are hidden under the cut--because a bird has to keep their secrets under lock and key!

***Warning: Spoilers for the main story campaign, particularly chapter 3 and chapter 4!***

Day 1

I am here. At Night Raven College.

There is a strange man. He calls himself my Uncle. He says that he is so very, very kind...and that he will give me a nest, a place to call home.

Uncle has given me this diary with which to record my thoughts. I will put it to good use.

I am thankful.

Day 32:

Uncle says I cannot stay in the attic writing.

He says I cannot stay in my cage forever.

Uncle says I must go out into the world.

He says it often.

I am scared.

Day 45

Uncle has given me robes.

He smeared things on my face.

There will be a ceremony of sorts, and I must attend.

...I am still scared.

Day 46

The ceremony is over.

I got lost on the way to the Mirror Chamber.

A weirdo chased me.

But...a nice person helped. Then he guided me to the ceremony.

He had very pretty eyes.

His name is Mon-sure Schemer? Mister Jade Leech. I hope I can see him again.

Day 49

I am so fortunate! I have stumbled upon Mister Jade again--this time in the hallway.

There was another Mister Jade with him. His name is actually Mister Floyd. They are brothers--twins, in fact! Eel mermen, too.

They look alike, but their personalities are quite different. It is a curious thing.

Mister Floyd is a little scary. He talks funny, and he is moody--but he promises he does not bite. He has taken to calling me “Black Pearly”.

They say they work at this “Mostro Lounge”, and that I should visit.

I am excited!

P.S. Mister Jade says I do not need to call them misters. I will be doing that!

Day 50

The Mostro Lounge is lovely! It has these glowing jellyfish lights, and seashell decorations. There is cool jazz, and a calming underwater ambiance.

Jade seats me and gives me recommendations. I don’t know what a lot of things on the menu are--Uncle has been feeding me mostly grain and small scraps of meat, trying to get me accustomed to human food.

Jade brings me a thing called Flounder’s Blue. He says it will be easier to hold down than solid food.

Flounder’s Blue comes in a short and stout glass. The liquid itself is actually yellow, with streaks of a blue drip swiped on the inside of the glass, and a blue...circle (?) stuck in, protruding out like a fin.

It tastes...sugary. I do not yet have the words in my vocabulary to properly describe it.

Jade tells me the circle is a “wafer”, the blue is a “syrup”, and the liquid is a “pineapple and cherry juice”.

I am learning many new things today.

Jade is so smart!

Day 54

I almost flopped at giving a presentation to Professor Trein’s class.

Floyd says it’s because I talk strangely, that I stutter and pause too much.

“Why can the Black Pearly write so much, but talk so little?” he asks. “You should tell Jade to tutor you, he’s pretty good with words!”

I have to agree with him. Jade taught me many new words in the Mostro Lounge before. I was embarrassed, but I asked him for help.

He was happy to oblige.

We will meet a few times each week to work on my speaking skills.

Day 59

I tripped and fell in P.E.--I am still no good at running.

Jade was sweet and helped patch me up.

I cried a little.

Okay, a lot.

He stayed with me until I stopped.

Day 71

I have gotten into the habit of visiting the Mostro Lounge every weekend.

The owner, Azul, is friends with the twins. He lets me sit at a table in the corner to do my work and practice speaking.

Jade sits with me and exchanges words.

He has me read stories I have penned aloud.

Sometimes he puts a plate of snacks or a drink in front of me and asks me to taste them, then describe the flavor to him. Other times, he points to people or things in the lounge and asks me to give my thoughts.

Once, he pointed at himself. I told him that he was very patient, that he was someone I trusted.

“Fufu. That is good to hear,” he says.

I also told him that his smile was beautiful.

Day 75

Today, I saw Jade’s true form.

We were swimming today in P.E., but I had to sit out. Ravens cannot swim.

Floyd and Jade were eager to get into the water. Their skin turns blue, and they sprout fins and long eel tails.

...I am not entirely certain why they lack clothing though? It must not be customary for merfolk.

They are having fun in the water.

I am glad.

Day 83

An angry Savanaclaw student came to me in the hallway after Alchemy.

He started to say something about the Leeches and deals, but Floyd told him to stop bothering me. In that moment...Floyd looked like a monster, all teeth and sharp edges.

Jade pulled me away and invited me to go hiking with him.

It sounds fun, but I am concerned about the Savanaclaw student.

Jade says to not fret.

So I listen.

Day 84

There is so much to see in the mountains!

Trees! Streams of water! Rocks! Dirt! Animals! Plants! The sky!

I want to experience everything at once. I am so excitable that I trip over my own two feet a few times--but it’s okay. Jade is always there to help me up.

His favorite thing about nature is mushrooms. He tells me all about them, and the places they like to hide.

I like listening to him talk. His voice is so deep and melodious--and his eyes sparkle when he is excited.

It’s very cute.

Day 86

Jade shows me the mushrooms he is cultivating, and his terrariums.

They are fascinating--each mushroom has its own personality, and each terrarium is like a miniature world.

A thought has wormed its way into my head as of late:

I wonder what it would be like to be a part of his world.

Day 90

It rained.

I shared an umbrella with Jade.

It was a little strange to be squished right next to him.

My heart would not stop pounding, and my cheeks were on fire.

Day 112

The days are growing colder, and shorter.

I wish that time did not fly so fast.

I want to spend more of it with Jade.

I need to return the jacket he lent me.

Day 120

Uncle is worried.

He says I spend too much time with “morally dubious” people.

He questions my ability to judge character.

He does not believe me when I tell him that Jade is a good person.

Uncle warns me to be careful.

I am being careful.

Day 132

Winter has set in.

Jade is kind enough to provide blankets and warm beverages for our study sessions.

At this point, I do not have many issues speaking, but...I do not want to stop. I want to learn more and more. I want to learn more about him.

I enjoy being by his side.

I hope he feels the same.

Day 139

We said our good-byes for the holiday break.

Uncle is taking me with him to a tropical island, and Jade is staying in Octavinelle.

I tell him I will miss him, even if it is just for a few weeks. He looks a bit sad, but he sends me off with a head pat and a smile.

Uncle offers to order me a tropical drink as we board the cruise ship. He tells me not to think of Leeches--those vile, blood-suckers, he calls them.

I say no thank you, but I dream of Flounder’s Blue.

Day 153

The new year has come.

It feels nice to be back on campus, to see Jade again.

We exchanged stories.

Not much happened on my end--I mostly sat indoors and wrote what I could to pass the time. Uncle was often up late into the night, partying and sipping on pina coladas.

Jade says that he helped a few friends and stopped a snake from tearing apart Scarabia. He even shows me a video.

How heroic of him!

I know that I can always count on Jade.

Day 166

I went shopping with Jade.

Floyd was in one of his infamous moods, and Azul is busy with school work--and Jade could not possibly restock ingredients for the Mostro Lounge all by himself.

It was quite busy in town--it made me nervous. I’ve never done well in big crowds of strangers.

Jade said I could hold his hand, if that made me feel any better.

It did.

And it reminded me of the day we first met.

Day 170

I’m still thinking about holding his hand.

Whenever I do, my heart quickens and my forehead begins to bead with sweat.

What is wrong with me?

Have I fallen ill?

Day 185

The students speak excitedly about this holiday known as “Valentime’s Day.” It is a time when you give gifts to the people you care for a lot. A common one is a sweet known as chocolate.

Jade laughed when I told him about it. He said it is actually “Valentine’s Day”, not “Valentime’s Day”. Silly me!

I asked him how many valentines he was expecting.

“None. Oh, woe is me. I appear to be rather unpopular among my peers, fufu.”

How could someone as amazing as him not get any valentines? It boggles my mind.

Day 186

I’ve decided.

I will give him a valentine.

Day 193

I’ve stopped writing stories and devoted most of my free time to researching recipes and designing chocolates.

I think he will like little mushroom-shaped ones. I’ll need to test the flavors out to see what works the best.

I hope the chocolates will bring a smile to his face.

I like his smiles.

Day 195

Oh no, diary.

I’ve realized.

I think I like him.

Day 197

The chocolates came out so well!

I’ve wrapped them up in a box and secured it with blue ribbon. There is an old nursery rhyme...

If you love me, love me true,

Send me a ribbon, a ribbon of blue.

Even if I cannot say those accursed three words...I hope that my feelings are able to come across. The curse cannot punish me for that, yes?

Day 198

I was a fool. I have been tricked. I was being used.

I heard them. I heard everything.

In the Mostro Lounge today...the octopus was speaking to them, the twins with the pretty eyes.

“This is not like you. You are working too slow,” the octopus said to the man I considered my friend.

“I apologize. She was...putting up much resistance. It can be rather difficult to form a connection with such a jittery bird.”

“That is your job,” the octopus sighed. “We need the raven on our side when we approach the headmaster about expanding the Mostro Lounge.”

I understand now--I understand it very well.

Those smiles, that kindness--they were smoke and mirrors.

To begin with, I was always destined to be a prop in someone else’s story. A convenience. Something to be used, then discarded once I am no longer useful.

I have overstepped my boundaries as a storyteller. I...should have remained on the sidelines, where I belong.

I...I know what I must do. I will not allow myself to be tricked a third time. Not by that old storyteller, and not by a slimy eel.

I will steel myself. I will build a wall—and none shall scale it. I will lock myself in a tower, or perhaps even a bird cage, and throw away the key.

To the man with the pretty eyes and the charming smile, farewell.

I’m glad that this raven was, at the very least, able to be a useful footnote in the pages of your story.

Day 201

He feeds me pretty lies and sweet nothings, day in and day out.

He tells me everything I want to hear--that it is a misunderstanding, a mistake. That things are different now. That he cares.

Uncle was right. Leeches are vile blood suckers.

Day 210

I reject his advances every chance I get.

I know they are all with ill intent to begin with.

Even so...no matter what I say or do, he always manages to get the upper hand in the conversation, the interaction.

I hate him.

I hate Jade Leech.

I hate how he is able to take my words away and render me speechless. Words are my only strength, my power as a storyteller. Without them, I am vulnerable. 

I don’t want to be the same weak and naive little bird I once was.

Day 213

It is unfair.

Maybe I am too kind, or too weak, or too gullible, but...I want to believe him.

I must put such thoughts behind me and move on.

Day 226

Uncle tells me that someone has sent a letter and a small package.

Into the trash the package goes--right where it belongs.

But the letter--that, I cannot bring myself to throw away.

It bears his handwriting, the very same gentle curves and slopes that taught me new words and phrases many an evening.

It is silly of me to be this sentimental--and over an eel, of all creatures!

So I stow the letter, unopened, in a drawer. It will remain there as a permanent reminder of my follies.

It is better this way.

I cannot be hurt.

I will not be used.

The curse will not kill me.

I can write stories, forever and ever.

This is...for the best. Isn’t it?

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

On Me...or on You?

destiel au

rated t

~2.2k

“Dean! Table six has been waiting for almost ten minutes. And I can’t see that guy’s face, but his posture is very tense.”

“You know I suck at this, Charlie.” Dean checks all his pockets for his pen, comes up empty, then sighs thankfully when Charlie hands him one from behind the bar.

Nodding, Charlie says, “You really do. But you’re stuck. We all are, really. So go take care of the guys at table six and then go see if the rowdies in the corner need refills.”

Dean grimaces. “Do I have to?”

Charlie grins. “They’ll probably be obnoxious, but they’ll be good tippers. Trust me.”

“I can’t believe I’m working for tips,” he grumbles, pulling out his notebook.

“Just show ‘em that smile, Dean. You can’t lose!” she teases.

Dean wishes it worked that way. He really is terrible at this job. Sam–his brother–is lucky they’re close, and he doesn’t hold all those childhood pranks against him. If he was one to hold a grudge about the shaving cream in his shoes, or the saran wrap on the toilet (although really Dean feels like he deserved that one, since it was April Fool’s Day and he wasn’t smart enough to look) he’d be out of here in a heartbeat. But he loves his brother, dorky guy that he is. Despite his fascination with computers and his propensity to spend most of his free time with his nose in a book, he’s a fantastic chef, and he’s worked hard to build this place into what it is.

It’s not Sam’s fault he has one waitress out on maternity leave and had another ask for sudden time off to visit her sick mom in Idaho. It is Sam’s fault he’s got irresistible puppy dog eyes, but that’s really Dean’s problem, not Sam’s.

Two men sit at table six, and Charlie’s right, the dark haired one looks...tense. The other one, smaller, with longish, light brown hair, seems in a fine mood, though. Actually, he looks like not much could get him down. He’s–Dean blinks, then looks again. Yeah, he’d seen right the first time. The guy is sucking on a bright red lollipop.

Huh. Something new every day, right?

Dean pastes a smile onto his face and steps up to the table. “Hi, welcome to The Bunker. I’m Dean, I’ll be your server tonight. Can…”

And then his thoughts fall out of his head, because the dark haired guy looks up at him, and it doesn’t even matter that he’s glaring. He’s the most beautiful man Dean’s ever seen. Sexy hair, right on the line between black and brown, standing out in all directions like someone’s been running her–his?–fingers through it. Piercing blue eyes. And he’s not smiling now, but somehow Dean can tell he’s got a showstopper. There are faint lines at the corners of his eyes that show that they’ll just crinkle up when he smiles.

Dean wants to feel the weight of that smile.

“Do you think we could possibly have something to drink? We’ve been waiting for awhile,” the man says, and Dean’s nearly struck dumb again by his voice, low and rough and mesmerizing, even when it’s speaking somewhat angrily at him.

Unfortunately, Dean’s mouth chooses this moment to speak without permission from his brain.

“Oh, you can have whatever you’d like, darlin’.” The words pop out, dripping with innuendo, followed by that smile Charlie’d mentioned.

And then his ears hear what he’d said, and he feels the blush taking over his face.

“I mean–uh–oh fuck,” Dean says, and then he realizes he probably shouldn’t swear in front of customers either. Sam’s going to murder him.

The light haired man slurps his lollipop and then cackles. “I like this one, Cassie. You should keep him.”

“Gabriel. I did not ask for your opinion. And I didn’t even want to come here with you. If you can’t keep your...your comments...to yourself, I’m leaving now. And you can find your own way home.”

“I’ll be good,” Gabriel says, and he looks almost chastised. “You have to stay, Castiel. Trust me, the food here is excellent. And the desserts..” He looks up at Dean. “Is Eileen here tonight?”

Dean, surprised, just nods.

“I don’t know where she was trained, but Eileen makes the best desserts around.”

Finally finding his voice again, Dean says, “She got her start in New York City. She worked in some pretty high class places there, actually.”

The dark haired man–Cassie? Castiel?–tilts his head and asks, “What’s she doing in Kansas?”

Dean smiles at this, a secret kind of smile. “She fell in love.”

Neither of them has a response to this, and an awkward silence falls over the table. Finally Dean remembers that, oh yeah, he’s supposed to be working here, and he manages to take their drink orders without incident. He brings them to Charlie, slumping down on one of the barstools and repeatedly hitting his forehead on the worn wood of the bar.

Charlie, her usual buoyant self, snatches his notepad from his hand and goes about mixing the drinks. After about a minute he sits up and looks at her, and she grins. “Well, that seems promising.”

“Were you watching some alternate version of Dean Winchester? One who didn’t act like an idiot in front of a customer–twice–and ruin any chance he could possibly have with the most attractive guy he’s ever seen?”

Shrugging, Charlie says, “He didn’t slap you. And he didn’t leave. And his brother seems to like you.”

“I guess he–wait, his brother? Charlie, do you know more than you’re saying here?”

Charlie doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but of course she doesn’t really have an embarrassed face. “Maybe,” she says, smiling sweetly. “But it’s nothing nefarious. Just a little harmless...hope.”

“Charlie,” Dean says, and there’s warning in his voice.

“Gabriel comes in here a lot, okay? He loves Eileen’s desserts, I’m pretty sure he’s had all of them at least twice, and he’s pretty fond of Sam’s cooking too. He saw you one day, and we got to chatting, and he mentioned his brother, and…” She shrugs. Then she leans across the bar, grinning. “He’s dreamy, right? Just your type. And did you see his arms? I mean, he’s certainly not my type, but those are nice arms. I’m pretty sure about that.”

“Yeah, they really–” Dean starts, then he glares at her. “Charlie! You know how I feel about being set up. Not like it matters, since I already blew it.”

Waving her hand dismissively, Charlie says, “Oh, you did not. Here. Take them their drinks and tell them–while you look at Cas–that they’re on you. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

“Cas,” he says. He likes the way the name feels in his mouth. Charlie grins.

Dean takes the tray of drinks uncertainly, but as he’s walking to the table his confidence grows. Sure, it means buying drinks for the two men, but it’ll be worth it means he’s still got a shot with Cas.

“Hey,” he says as he walks up to the table. “Sorry about earlier. I’m not–well, anyway. Let me make it up to you. Drinks are on me, okay?”

Gabriel’s smiling, and Cas seems to be softening, but then something goes horribly wrong. Just as Dean says “okay” his foot finds a spot in the carpet or a chair leg that shouldn’t be there or something; whatever it is, it causes Dean to stumble forward, and the drinks slide off the end of the tray and right into Cas’s face. He looks up at Dean, hair plastered to his head, the skewer of pineapple and cherries from Gabriel’s drink sticking out of his collar. He looks less than pleased.

“Oh,” Dean says, a horrified tone in his voice. “Oh fuck. Oh dammit I said fuck again. Oh...Ah, I’m so, so sorry. Can I...can I help?”

Cas’s gaze is almost painful. “I’m fairly certain you’ve helped enough, Dean.”

The words sting. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Look, I’ll send Charlie over to help you clean up, she’ll take care of you. I’m really–” But he looks at Cas, and his heart breaks a little at a connection missed, or lost, and he doesn’t apologize again. Once was enough. Instead he says, “I hope you’ll come back again. Sam’s cooking, Eileen’s baking, even Charlie’s drinks. They’re all worth it. The Bunker is a good place.”

He nods his head a little, waves Charlie over and goes to check on the booth in the corner. He smiles his charming smile, brings the rowdy, celebrating girls all the drinks and desserts they want, and by the time he’s finished taking care of them, Cas and Gabriel are gone.

Charlie’s right though. The girls are great tippers.

*

Dean’s warming up the next night when there’s a knock on his door. He looks up from his bench to see Charlie leaning against the doorframe, an odd smile on her face.

“There’s someone here to see you, Dean,” she says. He can’t quite get a read on her voice. She sounds like she’s hiding something, but he can’t figure out what.

He glances at the clock on the wall. “I’ll be out in ten minutes, same as always.

“You can’t come out now?”

He’s annoyed, but only slightly. “I never come out early, Charlie. It breaks the routine. Ten minutes.” He looks at the clock again. “Actually, nine now. Now get out of here so I can get ready.”

“But Dean–”

“Out, Charlie.”

She leaves.

Dean spends a moment or two thinking about the oddness of the encounter; Charlie knows his routines, and knows not to disrupt them. But then he gets back to getting into the mindset he needs, pushing Charlie from his thoughts. He’ll figure her out later.

*

When Dean steps out onto the small stage wedged into the corner of the dining room there’s a smattering of applause. He smiles and waves then sits down at the baby grand piano that fills the stage. “Hey Baby,” he murmurs, running a hand along the smooth wood. The piano’s been his as long as he can remember; he started taking lessons when he was five and he’s been enchanted by her ever since. He started singing along when he was seven, and started writing his own songs when he was ten. When Sam bought the space for The Bunker he made sure there was a place big enough for Dean to play–because that was what they did. Sam played with food and Dean played with music. This was a way for them to work together.

There are lights in his eyes, so Dean can’t really see into the dining room unless he squints, and it’s usually not all that important to him. He just lives with the music, sometimes doing covers, sometimes doing his own stuff. And everyone seems to like what he does, so he just keeps on doing it his way.

He can’t really see, so he’s surprised when just before he starts the first song, he hears a voice say, “Dean?” It’s a voice he recognizes, a voice that sends a spark down his spine.

His hands slip onto the keys, discordant notes ringing out through the dining room. “Sorry,” he says, flashing his charming grin at the room. “Just a little startled. Can you all give me just a moment?” He keeps up the smile, then steps to the edge of the stage.

“Cas?” And there he is, dark hair disheveled, blue eyes confused, sitting alone at the table nearest the stage.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says. “I thought you…”

Dean rubs at the back of his neck, an embarrassed grin on his face. “Nah, I was just helping out last night. Trust me, I’m not meant to be a server. I’m the talent. I also happen to be the owner’s brother, which is how I got wrangled into helping when two of his waitresses were out. Trust me, he doesn’t ask me often, I’m horrible at the job.”

“I noticed,” Cas says dryly.

Dean only laughs.

Cas looks at the piano on the stage, then back at Dean. “So you...play?”

“And sing. Which I should be doing now. Stick around until my break?” He doesn’t know why, he has no right to even hope, but he thinks Cas might agree.

He does.

*

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Thanks everyone, you’ve been great,” Dean says, stepping off the stage and meandering through the dining room towards the bar. He accepts compliments from several diners, offering smiles and the occasional handshake. He’s at ease among the crowd, but he’s got a destination in mind, and it’s not until he climbs onto a barstool that he feels truly happy.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says, turning to smile at him.

Dean had been right. That smile, it knocks him out every time.

He slips an arm around Cas’s waist and drops a kiss on his shoulder. “Hey Cas. Missed you.”

“You saw me two hours ago,” Cas says.

“It was a long and difficult two hours,” Dean pouts.

Cas huffs a laugh. “You were at a piano, Dean. You probably didn’t even notice time passing.”

Dean smiles into Cas’s shoulder. “Alright, it felt like a few minutes. But I still missed you.” He looks up into Cas’s eyes, says, “I’m on my break. Let me buy you a drink?”

Cas’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Nah,” he says, waving Charlie over. “That’s dangerous. This time the drinks are on me.”

[bts-roses]

Spilling Coffee | 3

➼ summary: You’ve always prided yourself in being a naturally graceful and reliable person. So an internship at BigHit seemed like a walk in the park. That is, until a certain goof slide-kicks you off your feet and makes your life a whole lot harder.

Or 

Namjoon is a misunderstood klutz and y/n thinks too much.

➼ pairing: idol!namjoon x reader

➼ genre: fluff, angst (i’m sorry!!!), idolverse

➼ word count: 2,900

previous | 

‣

You know, Namjoon is certain that he isn’t as clumsy as people make him out a bit. Is he prone to falling over every once in a while? Sure, who wasn’t? But he was sure that he’s not the stumbling fool that people make him out to be.

That was, until he met you.

After coffee incident #2, you started becoming less nervous and more acquainted with him. (Your little crush on the idol has also grown exponentially, but let’s just forget that.) At last, the days of you running away from him were in the past.

It was a few months into your internship that you noticed the changes. Panicked glances evolved into acknowledging smiles in the hallways. Running away from attempts at greetings turned into comfortable small talks in the elevator. Your fear of a certain man jumped into a fondness for a man you could call an acquaintance.

But one thing never changed: Namjoon was still a clumsy piece of shit.

You giggle silently in the meeting room when you make sudden eye contact with Namjoon, who was trying to hide the newly broken water glass, across the room. He shakes his head and starts quietly laughing, exchanging knowing glances with you every so often.

“Okay,” Your boss starts, “Here are the statistics of last year’s sales growth. As you can see...”

The project Mrs Lee was talking about to you was the plannings of the merchandise for BTS’ world tour in the upcoming month, hence the group’s presence in the meeting. Your dedication to your work scored you the temporary role of your boss’ assistant for the duration of the project. You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every single minute of it. Of course, you still had to go on coffee runs and so on but you just knew, Mrs Lee was finally warming up to you.

“I don’t know what to do with this.” Namjoon groans, holding the broken glass in his hand. The meeting was finally over.

“Put it in the bin, you dummy.” You point out, chuckling at his antics.

You don’t notice him smiling at the sound of your laughter. There’s a moment when you are waiting for the elevator doors to open that’s silent. He glances down at you humming a familiar tune and his heart warms at the sight.

“How has your day been?” He starts, making his way into your usual small talk.

“Better now that I’ve seen you break that glass.” You point towards his hands, giving him a mischievous nudge.

“I don’t even mean to do these things you know.” He pouts, “I don’t know why it’s always me.”

You both walk into the square room, shoulders brushing against each other. You smell his scent, loving the way it fills up all of your senses. You unconsciously grin. The pair of you continue your small talk.

These little moments always make your week. You liked learning small trivial bits about him no one else knew. You liked hearing him talking about his day, listening to the passion in his voice when he talks about his fans. Every time you feel yourself falling harder after every word exchanged. You crave more.

Before the conversation can get any deeper, you reach the floor he is needed on. A place where you don’t belong.

“That’s me.” He simply says, turning to give you a little grin.

You hum in response, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. That’s all these moments are: little. Insignificant.

“I’ll see you around okay?” He states, walking backwards without any caution.

Before the doors fully close, you catch him tumbling down on his ass. The ends of your mouth turn upwards and you roll your eyes. He’s so stupid.

Namjoon gets up once he can no longer see you. Turning around with a small spring in his step and a smile permanently plastered on. Maybe walking backwards isn’t the best idea, but Namjoon begs to differ if he can catch just another glimpse of your face.

‣

Namjoon feels his life rush by, not even realising a week has already passed because he’s been mostly locked up inside his studio. He just cannot finish this song. It’s been driving him nuts. There’s just one part that’s missing and he’s been pulling his hair to figure out what it was. Deciding it was best to go get fresh air, he leaves his studio.

On his way out, his heartbeat accelerates when he notices you walking nearby, holding a brown envelope. Without thinking about it, he starts dashing towards you with a smile. Your eyes move towards the sudden motion and they brighten up at the sight of him.

“Hi.” He breathlessly greets.

“Hi.” You reply, mirroring his big grin. God, you’re so cute.

“Uh, you off somewhere?” Namjoon asks.

“I was actually looking for you.”

“M-me?” He stutters, “why?”

He watches your arm move forward to give the envelope to him. He grabs it and looks up at you in confusion.

“Mrs Lee told me to give it to you. I don’t know what it is.” You explain, a pause, “well, I’ll get going now.”

Quickly, you stop moving when you feel his warm hand wrapped around your wrist. You look down, admiring how big his hands were compared to yours.

“No!” He exclaims, “I mean, um, do you want to see my studio? It’ll only take a minute, if you’re not busy?”

“Sure.” You agree thinking he just being nice, you were done for the day anyways.

You look around his studio, smiling at the warm and cozy feeling it radiated. The boy gestures for you to sit down on the couch while he moved to sit on his office chair. Sitting down in his studio, he suddenly felt self-conscious. You guys have never sat down and talked before. Your conversations always occurred when you both were walking places and they normally were cut off short. Now you were both alone in a room. His palms started sweating at the thought.

“I haven’t been seeing you around much.” You point out, trying to fill the silence in the room.

He frowns at the realisation. The man hasn’t seen you all week. He’s missed you.

“Yeah. I’ve been in here working. Guess I got too into it.” He admits, looking down at his lap.

You nod in understanding. It goes quiet again. Glancing up at his face you can tell that he hasn’t been getting rest and you frown at the thought. For the past few months BTS was supposed to be having a small break but you guess that they still must’ve been working hard. Even more so with the tour coming up. You look at the time. It’s just turned six. He should go home, you think. Before you get up and leave, hoping that gives him the opportunity to get sleep, he opens his mouth.

“How was your day?” He asks, an expression you can’t read on his face.

Great. Small talk. Again.

“It was alright.” You smile politely, “And yours?”

“It’s been fine.” He says, not knowing why the conversation was dying all of a sudden. It normally flows automatically.

Feeling awkward, you take in his appearance: he’s dressed comfortably in an expensive hoodie and loose pants. Because of his importance, he doesn’t really have a dress code and he can wear what he wants. You would be killed if you came into work so casual like that. You compare his attire to yours. Dressed in the uncomfortable second-hand dress you had to sew so it could fit, you think to yourself. You don’t belong here.

“So...” He begins, “are you hungry? I can order some food here.”

Your face turns in confusion at the randomness of his suggestion.

“Do you not wanna go home or something? Or are you not still working?” You query, looking at his computer with his song on.

Namjoon follows your eyes and turns back to see his computer. He sighs, “Nah I’m having a bit of a block right now and frankly, I’m starving.”

“As long as I’m not intruding, then sure.” You comply, secretly wanting more time with him.

“Great,” he reaches for his phone, “We should get some pizza, I know a really nice place that makes the best Hawaiian pizza.”

“You’re disgusting.” You unconsciously remark. Your eyes widen at your sudden outburst.

The man turns back puzzled, “Excuse me?”

He gazes at your face bursting out in laughter and he can’t help but to join in, realising the reason for you unexpected insult. He stands up from his chair, moving to tower over your sitting figure in attempt to intimidate.

“Does my pizza preferences not please you, Miss L/n?” He jokes, drowning in the sound of your giggles.

When he sits down next to you, you push him with in feigned repulsion. “Of course you would like pineapple on pizza.” You tease. 

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” He fakes his hurt, “Trust me, the pineapple pizza from this place will be the best pizza you’ll ever try.”

“Alright, bet.” You challenge.

After eating (turns out you still didn’t like the combo, as expected), the two of you fell back into a comfortable conversation, discussing anything and everything that came into mind from your favourite type of ice cream to his past lovers. Inwardly, he feels shock when you tell him that you never had dated seriously before. Regardless, he was utterly charmed by you, hanging on every single word that came out of your mouth. He likes the fact that you had similar values as him and he could only gape in awe when you passionately talk about the different political and social views that he was also enthusiastic about. But he additionally adores how you both had different tastes in certain aspects and he valued the fact that he could learn new things about life from you. He smiles to himself. It’s as if you are each other’s counterpart: your personalities blending almost perfectly together. He realises that this was the first ever in-depth conversation between the two of you and he could only hope it wasn’t the last. He wanted more.

You both don’t even notice the time flying by, even when the digital clock strikes midnight. 

“Do you believe love can be formulated?” Namjoon queries, his head resting on the palm of his hand.

“Formulated?” you affirm, he nods his head.

“Like you can force it.” He explains, silently loving the way your face looks when you look curious, “I came across this thing where it was like, 36 questions to fall in love.”

“Oh, I’ve seen that.” you comment, “Do you think it works?”

“I’m not sure. Do you?”

“I feel like it could. The questions are supposed to make you vulnerable to the other person,” You justify, “And isn’t that what love is about? Being vulnerable and trusting to a person?”

His eyes soften at the sight of you and he couldn’t help but to request, “Should we try a question?”

You feel your heart going off again. Trying your hardest to not overthink his question, you attempt to casually say, “Okay.”

Namjoon gets his phone out and searches for the list of questions. After a minute, he decides on asking the very last question, thinking it was the most interesting to discuss.

“Right, remember we have to be 100% honest.” He continues when you nod your head, “ We have to share a personal problem and ask the other’s advice on how they would handle it. We also have to ask each other how you think the other is feeling about the problem.”

“You just had to choose the longest one didn’t you?” You tease lightheartedly, chuckling along with him before going quiet to start thinking of what to say.

“Should I go first?” He asks, the atmosphere turning serious.

“If you want.” You stare at him, giving him your undivided attention.

“Right, so um, you might think it’s really stupid or something.” He insecurely says, regretting his suggestion.

Quickly you dismiss his worries and you hold his unoccupied hand without thinking. When he looks up he meets your eyes.

“We have to be vulnerable, remember?” You kindly encourage.

“Okay.” He pauses, glancing at you before starting.

“Sometimes, I feel like I don’t deserve all of this.” He gestures around him, “All of this recognition, all of the people around me, all of the money. People looking up to me. Being people’s role models. Sometimes it feels as if I’m not right for that role. And I know, it’s so stupid because I worked so damn hard to be where I am now and I’ve went through so much shit, I know that. But I just can’t help but to doubt myself, you know? Last year it was all I could think about. It’s gotten better now but once in a while it crosses my mind. Like, am I actually deserving of all of this love?”

The distress on his face causes your heart to twist. He sits there defenceless, all his walls broken down. He’s so painfully beautiful. Stillness lingers the room. 

Namjoon silently winces at the silence, he looks up at your face, about to dissolve his speech.

“You deserve to be loved.” You wholeheartedly whisper.

You grab his slightly shaky hands and earnestly gaze into his eyes. His heart starts pounding against his rib cage. Suddenly, all he can think about is what it would feel like to feel your love.

“You deserve to be loved.” You repeat, “Everything you have right now, no one else deserves it more than you. I know I can’t fully understand how you feel but I know that your work makes people feel things and for that, you have the right to be loved. As for my advice, I would say to think about any moments, no matter how small, from when you do feel deserving and don’t be shy to ask for some validation once in a while. But I’m just glad you don’t feel this way as much now.”

Before you process it, his arms wrap tightly around your shoulders, “Thank you, y/n.”

“It’s no problem. And, I don’t know if it’ll make you feel better, but when we talk you never fail to make me smile. So if you’re ever doubting yourself, at least you know that you make a positive impact on someone.” you say into his chest, smiling fondly.

Slowly moving away from you, he looks down at your face inches away from his- the glow from his computer screen illuminating your features. You’re absolutely breathtaking. Slightly intimidated by his intense gaze and embarrassed by your confession, you move away swiftly. 

“My turn.” you point out, cheeks slightly flushed from the intimacy, “It’s kinda funny. I feel like it’s the opposite of yours.”

You laugh a bit and the man beside you gives you a questioning look. The raw air in the room encourages you to open up.

“I’m scared that I’ll never be loved.” you meekly say, “I know I’m only in my early 20s but the thought of ending up alone terrifies me. A-and it sucks because I feel like I have so much love to give but no one to give it to. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic so I’ve always dreamt of being in love. I think I’m tired of being alone. I just want someone’s love. So, what’s your advice for that?” You joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Without warning, you feel his hand on the back of your neck, which ushers you forward until your lips touch. Your eyes close at the soft feeling of his full lips that were starting to move feverishly against yours. When you wrap your arms around his neck, he lets out a content hum, letting his arms fall around your waist. He kisses you deeper after you grant his tongue access past your lips and you feel your whole body on fire from the contact.

It was when you felt your lungs begging for oxygen that you broke the kiss with your eyes still shut- trying to savour the moment. Opening your eyes, you look up at the man in front of you. He has a glimmer in his eyes and a smile breaks out onto his face.

“Take mine.” He responds to your question. You feel his breath on your nose, “Take my love.”

A strange feeling builds up in your chest. You imagine going on dates with him outside, the sun glistening on his tan skin. You imagine countless late night conversations like this one. You imagine how much your parents would adore him when he comes to visit. You imagine endlessly kissing him. The feeling bursts throughout your body.

You’re starting to fall in love with him.

Then your mind does the thing it does best: overthink. Alarmed at the sudden panic in your face, Namjoon starts to reach out to you and, for the first time in a while, you run away. 

And all he can do is helplessly watch you leave.

‣ 

a/n hello! it’s been a while. thank you for reading, i rlly hope you’ve enjoyed!

taglist: @alinerl @kim-jias-den @657mg @jinjccns @loonyginger​

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1000 - Initial Thoughts

We are Finally Here.

Not quite Christmas Day but still in Xmas Weekend so I’ll take it, but we are now at the 1000th Chapter of One Piece, a herculean testament not only to Oda’s dedication to his story but long term storytelling itself on a mostly weekly manga

The Wano story rages on and it will continue beyond 1000 but for now

This Party’s Getting Crazy, Let’s Rock

Spoilers for Chapter 1000, obviously, support the Official Release as well

Sadly I can’t gush about the Color Spread yet because this is fan translations (and a bit rough around the edges) but I’m sure come Jan 4th it’ll be great, hopefully Viz will do the full one and not one that’s rotated 90 degrees like 999′s half was

Also the title, Straw Hat Luffy. We have gone this long without a chapter titled after Luffy

Shishilian and the minks are still alive, ready to let Luffy pass, looks like Jack will be spared a Blueno moment, though he still could come up against Brook and Robin or Yamato

I wonder what significance Shishilian’s tears are, is it regret, grief, mourning? Did he not go full power? Also what’s happening with Carrot? I miss her!

WTF is with Queen’s neck? First tongue guns and now it’s like a wired neck? How cyborg is this dude?

But Marco’s out here handling King AND Queen right now! No flies on our Pineapple

Though they say they can’t hit him, is...haki not a thing with these guys? Or is there supposed to be some unwritten law that you can’t use Haki against certain opponents?

Zoro’s bad run with birds continues, he’s been hoisted, dropped and now thrown XD at least it’s in the right direction

Yamato’s smiles are very sweet...but I still don’t think he’s joining the crew, he has to follow his own path

But now Momo has Oden’s journal, could that be used as a bargaining tool? What would Roger had thought about Oden pouring a lot of Laugh Tale secrets into it?

Someone protected the logbook? Who? They say by the river so maybe Kawamatsu? Maybe Toki threw it out? Or maybe someone else was in Oden Castle at that time

Looks like Law’s done with his sneakies, bout to Shambles up there...where’s the rest of his crew though?

Ah more of Ace drinking his ‘Gush about Luffy’ juice, with a side sprinkle of Sabo mentions, isn’t it sweet to see?

And the fact that he wholeheartedly believes in Luffy’s dream, I wonder what that would mean for his plans to make Whitebeard King, was it to be a seat warmer?

Yamato screaming to Ace holding Oden’s Journal high should be a meme

Ace completely unaware that he’s just approved of something about his dad and wanted to share a drink with him

And wow, Yamato made Ace’s vivre card! That’s some deep cut, and explains how Yamato knew of Ace’s death, he uses the same line Ace uses to Luffy when he gives him his card as well I thnk

Finally, we make it to the top!

Look at Killer not getting the fashion memo of dark silhouettes

Lots of eye shifting going on though, Law looks kinda pissed

God that hero pose though, what’s with the threefold sound focus on Luffy’s feet though?

‘That little abortion’ - uh, little far Linlin...

‘He destroyed my castle, you owe me an apology’ - maybe when you apologize for blackmailing and trying to murder his cook, he’ll think about it. Though I do have a humorous thought of Luffy just going ‘oh yeah, sorry bout your cake’ and BM just switching like ‘huh...okay yeah we’re even, I’m gonna bounce, later fishcakes’

When Luffy isn’t paying attention to you in a main fight, this is the moment you have to say your prayers, because he’s seen something far beyond you

The Akazaya are beaten, but it doesn’t look like they’re dead yet, though it could just be Kin’emon, it is a sad sight to see

You know Luffy kicks into gear the moment he’s been asked for help, that just stacks it for him

Law did at least move the Akazaya, though they keep hiding his face a little

In missing, Kaido’s made another hole in the roof, wonder how that will turn out?

RED ROCK

Aside from the name being a combination of Red Hawk, Rocks Pirates and probably a new naming for the Ryou enhancement, that thing hit Kaido hard! It also becomes a cyclic moment since the first thing Luffy hit Kaido with was a Gear Third attack

Big Mom is shook, they both see Roger in him now, no more talking down at him

Because this is not Roger. This is Monkey D. Luffy, and he will become King of the Pirates

The biggest criticism I can give a chapter like this is that there’s not more of it, we need to see more! Granted, this was primarily set up for Luffy and co to stand down Kaido and BM, so we still have much to cover but I do feel as though that’s by design. As much as we have hyped Chapter 1000, One Piece doesn’t end there, there is still much of Wano to cover. Which leads to a sobering thought, we’re still not done with this act yet, and a tragedy is yet to happen. Oda’s making Law look very shifty too and BM didn’t involve herself in the fight. This battle is far from over, this is simply a wake-up call for Kaido, what will happen when Kaido starts enjoying the pain?

But for the chapter itself, it was brilliant, more questions sure but with the hype and gravitas surrounding a 1000th Chapter Oda once again never failed to disappoint, the Will of Goda continues and will continue to continue continuing in its continuation.

1001 will likely begin in the new year, until then, Merry Christmas and a Happy 1000th