#and when i said i might fail that exam her response was

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 2. Intelligence and recklessness. Sirius Black (and James Potter, with a bit of Remus and Peter too)

Or who is the smartest of the Marauders?

Sirius and James are described multiple times as exceptionally intelligent. They didn’t need help from Remus or Lily to pass their exams. James didn’t envy Sirius for being ahead academically, and Sirius didn’t ask Remus for help. They could handle everything on their own.

For example, McGonagall rarely gives praise without good reason. Here are her words about James (often unfairly depicted as less intelligent than Sirius or Remus) and Sirius:

‘Precisely,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course – exceptionally bright, in fact – but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers –’

Being "exceptionally bright" is an extremely high praise for intellectual ability from McGonagall.

As for Peter, she speaks rather average of him:

‘Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?’ said Madam Rosmerta. ‘Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now...’ She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

Moreover, Peter "was always hopeless at duelling," according to McGonagall. This means that over 7 years, Peter failed to impress McGonagall with his academic achievements. As the head of his house, she was aware of all his grades. Perhaps he was just an average student, but then it's unclear why McGonagall was "often rather sharp with him." She doesn't seem like the type to be sharp over trivial matters.

Slughorn:

‘Well, anyway, he (Sirius) was a big pal of your father’s at school. The whole Black family had been in my house, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame – he was a talented boy. I got his brother Regulus when he came along, but I’d have liked the set.’

While Lupin’s words might be biased, he often speaks quite judiciously about people around him, thus:

"Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did – everyone thought they were the height of cool – if they sometimes got a bit carried away –"

He confirms that Sirius and James were the best at everything in school. Meaning academically first of all, because school is primarily about studying.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it."

And a bit more praise from Lupin towards Sirius and James' giftedness. They were both gifted – Sirius and James.

Even Dumbledore acknowledges:

‘Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi last night,’ said Dumbledore, smiling. ‘An extraordinary achievement – not least, keeping it quiet from me.’

So, not only did they become Animagi (Peter wasn’t much help, according to Lupin), created the Marauder's Map, which contained very unusual magic (they, of course, all created the Map together, but based on the description above, I can assume that the main magical component of the map was the responsibility of James and Sirius), excelled in their studies, created a magical FaceTime – an artefact for communication among themselves, they also managed to keep a lot from the school's headmaster and other teachers. Intelligence plus cunning.

Sirius and James' reaction to others' "stupidity":

‘How thick are you, Wormtail?’ said James impatiently. ‘You run round with a werewolf once a month –’ 

‘Keep your voice down,’ implored Lupin. 

‘Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake,’ he heard Sirius say. ‘I’ll be surprised if I don’t get “Outstanding” on it at least.’ 

‘Me too,’ said James.

Here, I don’t want to dwell on their rudeness, but rather on the reaction itself. Often Lupin is seen studying more than anyone (I too like to see him buried in books), but perhaps Lupin simply needed to study more to pass his exams. He buried himself in textbooks not because he was the smartest, but because it was necessary for him. Remus is clearly not dumb; he became a professor at Hogwarts, he’s also described as intelligent in the canon, but things came much easier to James and Sirius, and they were well aware of how smart they were. Hence their reaction. When a teenager is confident in their superiority, and their intellect is often validated by external factors (grades, teachers' praise), such a reaction from James and Sirius, considering their personalities, is quite expected for their still maturing characters.

‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here...’ and he (Lupin) held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

Sirius' reaction is unequivocal. He doesn’t need to read anything like Lupin, memorising paragraphs. To him, it’s all "rubbish" that he already knows. Sirius likely had a very good long-term memory.

Sirius' memory and attention to detail even after 12 years in Azkaban are also quite remarkable.

"Congratulations on getting past the Horntail, whoever put your name in that Goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point –"

‘That’s what Krum did!’ Hermione whispered.

Clearly, during his 12 years in Azkaban, he didn’t need this knowledge. It’s unlikely he ever used this knowledge in practice. But he remembered it, ready to mention it right away, not having peeked in any books. Even Hermione didn’t know.

‘My God,’ said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again.

‘His front paw...’

‘What about it?’ said Ron defiantly.

‘He’s got a toe missing,’ said Black.

And this is about his attentiveness. To notice that a rat is missing a toe from a small photograph while sitting in Azkaban… I wouldn’t have noticed even without Azkaban.

As for adult Sirius, the fourth book shows many of Sirius' reasonable assumptions that eventually are confirmed. What people mistake for stupidity is his recklessness, as well as his willingness to die for those he loves, to protect them at any cost. His recklessness is usually related to this.

‘The Ministry’s forced through another decree, which means we’re not allowed to have Quidditch teams –’

‘Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?’ said Sirius. There was a short pause.

‘How did you know about that?’ Harry demanded.

‘You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,’ said Sirius, grinning even more broadly.

‘The Hog’s Head, I ask you.’

‘Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!’ said Hermione defensively. ‘That’s always packed with people –’

‘Which means you’d have been harder to overhear,’ said Sirius. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Hermione.’

Hermione is very smart, but Sirius immediately explains their tactical mistake. But it still sounds somewhat condescending.

‘But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk –’ Hermione began.

‘You sound like Molly,’ said Sirius. ‘This was the only way I could come up with answering Harry’s letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable.’

It might seem reckless, but he's right, codes can be cracked. And he really wanted to reply to his godson – it's more about his inability to refuse the only living person he loves now and his desire to protect him.

Sirius repeatedly makes correct deductions in the fourth book, here are a couple of examples, but generally, the fourth book is full of rational remarks, assumptions, and overall, he's ready to provide Harry with information, especially in the fifth book, when Harry is having the toughest time and most people simply refuse to tell him anything.

‘Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion,’ said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione’s winces. ‘So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention.’

‘Well, now he’s back it’s bound to hurt more often,’ said Sirius.

‘So you don’t think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?’ Harry asked.

‘I doubt it,’ said Sirius. ‘I know her by reputation and I’m sure she’s no Death Eater –’

‘Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry –’

‘You and the rest of the world,’ said Harry bitterly.

‘– and, reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman’s article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm,’ Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, ‘but I don’t think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one’s going to look into it too closely, Mad-Eye’s heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.’

And much more.

For Harry in the fourth and fifth books, Sirius became the one who supported him and provided information, and all his attempts to break through to Harry, risking being caught – this is an expression of love and desire to help his godson. It's precisely in such moments that his recklessness is revealed – when he wants to help.

Moreover Sirius often gives Harry good advice, there is just one example:

‘Don’t lose your temper,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘Be polite and stick to the facts.’

‘Good luck,’ said Lupin.

‘I’m sure it will be fine.’ ‘And if it’s not,’ said Sirius grimly, ‘I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you...’

Here's the interweaving of Sirius' rationality and recklessness. He knows the right way. But he himself is ready to throw himself into the line of fire. He never gave Harry impulsive advice. But when it comes to himself or when someone needs protecting, Sirius has a different standard of normalcy.

In conclusion, throughout the series, Sirius makes a number of insightful remarks, and his intelligence and giftedness are exceptionally highly regarded by Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin. I wouldn’t attribute his pathological desire to help those he loves to stupidity. Furthermore, adult Sirius shows recklessness mainly when it concerns his own safety and life — he doesn't cherish his own life if it means the well-being of someone he loves, thus he readily throws himself into danger.

Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. (Dumbledore)

[blushweddinggowns]

“I am sorry,” Eddie said for probably the millionth time, cringing at the glare Chrissy was sending his way. She wasn’t nuclear pissed but she was pissed, “Don’t look at me like that! You know I’d just be miserable if I went.”

Chrissy sighed, but she didn’t sound very surprised, “I just can’t believe after all that talk, you’re ditching me again.” 

Eddie shrugged, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. But his mind was already made up,  “I’ll owe you twice. But for now I’m staying right here.”

“Yeah, yeah. Cute boy trumps over me, I get it, ” Chrissy joked as she peered over at Steve, “Y’know, you could come with us. It’s only for a few months. And uh, you could bring a friend. Or two.”

It was actually kind of impressive, how fast Steve was able to move to cover Robin’s mouth. The yes was written all over her face, but Steve was ready to be the voice of reason, “Unfortunately, no. Nancy has the BAR exam in a few weeks and Robin has already been enlisted to help her through it.”

“Shame,” Chrissy sighed, laughing when Robin shook Steve’s hand away from her with a glare. But the lack of response made it clear she had no counterpoint. Chrissy went on, her eyes going back to Steve, “But that didn’t explain why you couldn’t go.”

Eddie watched, a little nervous about what he would say. Because while yes, it would be fun to drag Steve around the world on tour with his best friend, Eddie was kind of hoping to keep him to himself awhile longer. 

Steve blushed at the invitation, “That’s uh, quite the offer but-”

“But you should pay him if he goes,” Robin said bluntly, nodding Eddie’s way, “Especially if he quits his job for you. Honestly, I think you should reimburse him for the sick days he had to take because of your lying ass-”

Steve slapped her on the arm, his face on fire, “Robin!”

Chrissy just laughed as she watched them, “See? Stuff like this is exactly why I like you!”

Robin flushed at the compliment, but shrugged , “What? I’m just adding some realism to the whirlwind romance in case he fucks you over again.”

Huh. That was kind of a good point. Eddie hadn’t even thought of that. He didn’t know how it looked to literally add his boyfriend on to the payroll but…

“We could do a trust fund kind of thing?” Eddie offered instead, “That might be easier. No strings attached.”

“Irrevocable?” Robin asked, ignoring Steve trying and failing to shut her up again. 

“That would be the no strings attached part, yes.”

“Ooh, I like that-”

“He’s not going to pay me to be his boyfriend!” Steve interrupted with a huff, looking between them like they were the ones being unreasonable, “You can’t be serious about this.”

Eddie frowned, “Baby, it wouldn’t be paying you to be my boyfriend. You would get it if you dumped me or not. It would be more like…”

“A thank you for being his boyfriend!” Robin finished for him, “Honestly Steve, it’s the least he can do.”

Eddie nodded with her, “It really is.”

Steve stared at him, eyes wide, “Holy shit, you are literally insane. You are a crazy person.”

“Get used to that,” Chrissy sighed as she picked up her bag, “Now I gotta go. Hug me.”

Eddie did just that, sweeping her up into a big hug, one that took her clear off the ground. She laughed as he squeezed her, giving Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye. She did the same to Steve, though both of them politely looked away when she took things a little further with Robin. Even Eddie was a little surprised. He knew Chirssy could move fast but this seemed a little too… loving. Even for her. 

“I’ll call you when I get back. Just text me when Nancy gets off work,” She said quietly after she stepped back from her, a light flush to her cheeks, “I hope I can see you both again. It was fun.”

“I-yeah. Definitely,” Robin stuttered out, “Will do that. Yes.”

They all waved goodbye, watching her disappear into the airport before turning back for the car. 

“So,” Robin said as she got back into the backseat, “Trust fund. How do we make that happen?”

Steve groaned, covering his eyes with his hand, “Please stop trying to make me into an escort, Robin.”

“Oh my god, has love made you stupid?” Robin asked as she rolled her eyes, “He’s a millionaire who fucked you over. Why shouldn’t you get any money?”

“Babe, for the love of god shut the fuck up. He’s right here.”

“I don’t mind,” Eddie chimed in as he started the engine, “Besides, I think she’s right. It is the least I can do. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable-

“That isn’t the insane part!” Steve interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath, “Both of you… just stop talking.”

Eddie sighed but listened, glancing in the rearview for Robin’s reaction. She didn’t look pleased either, but when she caught his eye she perked up.

Text me about it, Robin mouthed at him through the mirror.

I will, Eddie mouthed back, snapping his mouth back closed when Steve glanced at him. 

Eddie didn’t think much of it after that. He dropped Robin and Steve off, texted her about the idea on and off throughout the day, checked in on Chrissy when she made it home, then picked Steve up from work. He made him dinner, listened as he talked about his shift, and then pulled him into his lap for some bad reality television. 

It was an incredibly normal night, one that Eddie still couldn’t believe he got to keep. But fuck, was he grateful. 

“Hey, baby?” Steve said around a half-hour in, his voice sleepy and adorable. 

Eddie couldn’t help but kiss his forehead, smiling down at him, “Yeah?”

“Can I see your phone?” Steve sweetly asked.

“Sure,” Eddie said, handing it right off to him. He had nothing to hide, not anymore. He was even back to the convenience of having one phone, his stupid extra donated to charity the day after he got Steve back. Besides, it made sense for Steve to have the code anyway, it was his birthday after all. He didn’t even think about it as Steve unlocked it.

He probably should have thought about it. 

“I fucking knew it,” Steve groaned before shoving the phone right back into his face, “What’s this?”

Eddie blinked at him, biting his lip as he was confronted with a pretty indepth trust plan with Robin. Eddie shrugged at him, guilty as charged when he answered, “You just told us to stop talking then. You never said we couldn’t bring it up later.”

from the next chapter of this fic

[volpe-kitsune-red]

A taste of you～(Part 2)

Part 1

Lynx Andromeda (Yandere OC) x reader

TW. general yandere behavior, possessive behavior, vampires, blood-drinking, kidnapping, manipulative behaviour

"Finally! I was starting to worry that I might have gone too far...haha"

You barely understood what the voice had said, your ears were ringing, and when you tried opening your eyes, it looked like everything around you was spinning. Hesitantly, you raised your hands to confirm your head was still there by how light it felt. "How are you feeling, love?" This time the voice felt clearer, it was low, sweet, and feminine. Your vision stopped spinning as much and you finally managed to make out the figure sitting next to you...it was Lynx, and you were in her room, in her bed. It would have been embarrassing and panic-inducing if it was anyone else's bedroom you had woken up in. However, you guys had regularly watched tons of movies, played games, and talked about life cozied together up on that bed, mostly when you were younger and had far more free time on your hands. The only thing bothering you was that you couldn't recall how you got there; you were at that party, then you were talking to that woman, and then...

"Here love, drink this, it will make you feel better." Lynx grabbed a glass filled with some red liquid and held it out for you to take. "Lynx, no offense dear, but how is wine supposed to help me recover from a hangover?" She giggled in response. "You really think I'm that stupid? I might have failed my chemistry exam last year, but that was just one time!" She said, faking a frown. "Ok then, enlighten me, what is it?" "It's obviously watermelon juice." You raised an eyebrow, couldn't she have just given you water instead? You knew she had an obsession with that drink, she brought a bottle of it to school every single day since you had known her; for some reason she never let you take even a little sip when you asked to try it. Too nauseous to question her choice any more than that, you took the glass from her hands and carefully brought it to your lips. "Oh, what the fuck, it tastes nothing like watermelon" "I forgot to mention I added some ibuprofen, I figured you would need it." You weren't too convinced, it wasn't just the taste, the consistency didn't add up. A part of you was telling you that something was wrong, making you nervous. Either way, despite your skepticism, you kept feeling a deep desire, a primal craving for that drink since you first smelled it. So you chugged it down, licking your lips afterward. You almost instantly regained your focus, nothing hurt anymore. Actually, you could distinctly tell apart the chirping of the birds flying outside, their wings flapping, and their hearts pumping blood through their bodies. Blood... why were you so fixated on that now?

Then memories hit you like a ton of bricks. Lynx dragging you away, kissing you, and... biting your neck?? Instinctively, your hand shot to where you recalled the sharp pain you felt last night originated, and there it was. Under your fingers, two small holes were present, they hadn't closed, and yet no blood was seeping out despite how deep into your flesh her teeth had dug into you. Her teeth, her long, needle-like sharp teeth. You looked at your best friend in horror and were met with an apologetic expression, which you didn't take too well. "You have been a fucking vampire this whole time and you never told me bitch??" She wasn't too shocked by your reaction. "Excuse me if I didn't want to scare you away, also I promised my father to never tell a human my secret so-" "But we have known each other for our entire lives! You know you can trust me with anything, you could have told me-" "I tried to drop hints but your dumbass somehow ignored all of them! Nobody fucking likes watermelon juice!" You stopped yourself from throwing a few insults at her and continuing the screaming match that would have lasted forever otherwise, knowing your best friend's temper. After taking a big, long breath, you speak again. "Ok ok, whatever, we'll talk about this later. Now to my next issue...what the hell was that? You kissed me, but also bit and sucked all my blood out right after that. You are kind of bipolar but this is too much hypocrisy even for you."

She avoided looking you in the eyes, seemingly embarrassed. "Yeah, about that. I was actually pretty drunk and I wasn't able to think straight...that horribly worsened after I saw you with her." The irritation in her voice when she mentioned the woman at the bar was difficult to ignore. "That wasn't something I had planned to happen this soon. I had a whole ceremony in mind for the day I would have finally turned you into a vampire: a creepy abandoned church, the moon high in the sky, a camera recording the moment so I could watch it later, our servants playing the violin in the background for a solemn atmospheric feel... all that just went out of the window because of a stupid party night." Her cheery voice and dreamy eyes, as she spoke about the ceremony, dipped back down and lost their spark at the last sentence. "Huh, wait. Does that mean I'm a vampire now?? Why didn't you tell me that from the start!" She stared at you with a deadpanned, slightly concerned face. "Darling, sweety, love of my life, I assumed you had already figured that out. I find your human stupidity cute but this kind of concerns me."

Overall, she was glad you had taken the whole vampire thing well. She had prepared a whole speech to ease you into accepting the idea but it revealed itself unnecessary. Unfortunately, she did have some other news she knew you wouldn't appreciate. "So, how am I supposed to walk to school now? Do you have to wear special sunscreen every day or is the whole burning under the sun thing a myth?" Her reaction perplexed you, she looked very much amused by your question, but your now heightened senses helped you easily pick up on other things you were unaware of before such as the aura of malice surrounding her and...something else you couldn't make out. "Oh no no dear, you won't be going anywhere for quite a while. You see, I'm still unsure if I can trust you keeping shut about this, what if I lose sight of you again? You're such a precious thing, you could get hurt out here if you don't know how to navigate with your new body." It always creeped you out how she would so easily subtly switch her tone in the middle of a conversation, she went from sweet to threatening to lock you up in an instant. "But I still need to go to college, I have an exam next week and..." "Love, I don't think you fully understand the situation you are in. Do you know how the spread of the vampirism curse works?" You shook your head. "Since I was the one that turned you, you are under my control, I am basically your master. If I wanted I could turn you into one of my family's many servants, use you as a maid, and you wouldn't even get a say in the matter. You are bound to follow every command I give you from now on." The situation took a dark turn really fast, but you couldn't understand why, why was she talking to you like this? "But you would never do something like that to me...right? Lynx?"

"It all depends on the answer to my next question. Do you love me?" Well, that was easy, you thought.

Unfortunately for you, no matter what your answer was going to be, she didn't need to restrain herself anymore now that you had no way to run. Why would she let you roam around free when you could sit obediently in her lap, where no one would ever dare harm you? Why go to school and distract yourself with others when she was all you needed from now on? You didn't need a degree or a job, she was basically royalty amongst vampires, money was never going to be an issue. Of course, she wouldn't actually turn you into a maid, she had decided on a far better fate for you.

You were destined to be her spouse, you were going to be tied to her for the rest of your eternal lives. Refusal wasn't an option, a no wouldn't be accepted, you are her most prized possession and resistance is futile.

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Our Love Story

Nanami Kento x Reader

Chapter 2: Sushi, Movie, and a Kiss

Chapter 1: Coffee and Baked Goods

(Song Inspiration: Love Her by The Jonas Brothers)

It was your winter break. You sighed in content as you landed on your bed after your final. Your friends wanted to celebrate, but you passed on the offer. You’ve picked up extra shifts at the hospital prior to your exam. All you wanted to do was relax. Sleep. But before you fell into a slumber, your cell phone rang. You wanted to ignore it, silencing the ringtone. But when you saw the caller I.D., your eyes widened.

“Nanami-san,” you said, a yawn suddenly escaping your lips.

“Did I call at a bad time?” he asked.

He ended up calling you the day after the two of you met. You happily met him that next day at 8am in your favorite cafe. You didn’t have class until 1pm that day. The topic started off with Nanami asking what you were studying for and you went off with that. He listened, asking questions every now and then. And you love how engaged he was. And by the time you had to leave, Nanami gave you a ride to school. It’s been a month and a half since then. The two of you message or call each other when you can. And you counted a total of 10 meet ups with him to eat.

“You didn’t,” you answered. “I just got home. I finished my final. I’m finally on my winter break.”

“Are you busy right now?” he asked.

“No.” Nanami frowned, feeling guilty for disturbing you. “I’m free all day, Nanami-san. Did you want to do something?”

“I…” Nanami paused.

He wanted to just check up on you. And you sounded exhausted that he felt conflicted to spend time with you. He didn’t know what to consider you as. You remained formal with him so he did the same. You flooded his mind since the day you two met. You were very persistent in paying him back even though it wasn’t a big deal to him. He planned to just meet up with you that one day. But he found himself calling you that evening and the day after and the day after again.

“I just wanted to check up on you,” he said softly. You hummed in response. “It’s been almost a week.”

“You’ve been busy,” you said.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be! I’ve been busy also.”

“How did you do on your final?” he asked curiously. He mentally slapped himself. It was the main reason why he called you in the first place.

“I won’t know until I see the results,” you answered sadly. He could imagine your pouty look. “Every time I think I do well, I fail. If I do bad, I fail.”

“I’m sure you did great,” he said. “I know you just got that passing grade.” You smiled.

“I better,” you said. It was quiet between the two of you, but you liked his company even if it’s just on the phone.

“Let me treat you out to dinner. What are you craving?”

“Sushi please. I want take out though. Come over and watch a movie with me.”

You were surprised yourself that you immediately invited him over. Just like him, you didn’t know what to consider him as. You felt too formal to be friends even though the two of you spent time together like one. But calling and texting each other’s well being on a daily basis felt like you two were more than just friends.

“Send me your address. And I’ll send you a menu,” he said. You smiled.

“Okay. I’m going to leave my door unlocked. If I’m asleep, wake me up! Don’t feel bad for doing so.” Nanami was silent, hesitating a bit.

“You shouldn’t leave the door unlocked,” he said. “We can find another day to—“

“I’ll stay awake and the door will be locked. Please come over.” The two of you blushed. You yourself felt too persistent but you really wanted to spend time with him.

“Okay,” he replied softly. You sighed in relief quietly and Nanami mentally chuckled as he heard you. “I might be a bit late.”

“I know. You told me there are times you leave work late. On second thought, maybe you’re right. If you get out late—“

“I’ll be there okay? I have about an hour left. Take a power nap after you tell me what you want me to order. I’ll be there. I promise.”

“O-Okay, Nanami-san.”

You took a quick shower after the call. You went through the menu and messaged him back three sushi rolls and a dessert. You wore your favorite crewneck, shorts, and socks. You brushed your hair and lied down on the couch, immediately falling into a deep sleep.

You couldn’t help but have that gut feeling to wake up. You tried to fight against your sleep, but it felt too good to wake up from. But the sounds of footsteps and a noise right next to you made you alert. You sat up immediately, but held your head up from the sudden dizziness you felt.

“You’re awake.” You recognized the deep voice but your vision remained blurry for a few seconds. You finally saw the tall blonde kneeling in front of you, watching you carefully. “I went to the front desk. They let me in.”

“I-I-“ You were trying to formulate words in your brain, but your brain was still too foggy to think about anything. Nanami softly chuckled as he wrapped the blanket around you.

“You don’t mind if I grab plates and utensils in your kitchen?” he asked. You shook your head. Nanami softly thanked you and stood up.

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and watched him look from cabinet to cabinet. You reached for your phone that was on the table. You checked the time and your eyes widened.

“Did you wait long?” you asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” he answered nonchalantly. You blushed.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, eyes lowered to the ground. “I guess I forgot to set my alarm.”

“It’s okay.” Nanami returned with two small plates and two water bottles. “Pick a movie.”

“R-Right.” Nanami set the table, pulling out the containers out of the bag. You began to feel self-conscious. You wondered if he cared about the movie you picked or if he would judge you for liking something he doesn’t. You doubted it but couldn’t help but let to your thoughts consume you.

“You wanted to watch the new rom-com right? You should put it on.”

“That’s okay with you?” Nanami nodded.

“It’s all about you tonight.” You couldn’t help but blush. You patted the empty seat next to you. You pulled the table closer to the couch so the two of you can easily reach over for the food.

It wasn’t long until you devoured your dinner. You didn’t realize that you were even starving until you took your first bite. You recalled Nanami telling you to slow down but you were too engrossed with the movie to commit to slowing down, taking the chance to possibly choke on your food.

Nanami loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves halfway up his arm. He unbuttoned the first couple of buttons of his shirt before he sat back on the couch, making himself more comfortable. You wrapped the blanket around your body to stay warm. You giggled at the cute and romantic scenes that happened. And you couldn’t help but make small comments when something unexpected happened. Nanami would smile, enjoying your inputs on the movie.

“They’re so cute, Kento,” you said. Nanami used his hand to slightly cover his big smile. Your eyes widened and you looked at him with guilty eyes. “I-I mean, Nanami-kun. No! Nanami-san.” He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Kento-kun sounds better,” he said.

“Kento-kun it is then.” A large yawn escaped your lips. The movie just ended and you couldn’t help but rub your tired eyes.

“I’ll clean up.” You stood up and grabbed the plates.

“You are my guest, Kento-kun. You stay put.” You quickly stacked the small amount of plates from the table and headed to the kitchen. Nanami stood up, walking around the room. He would stop at pictures, smiling to see your life. There were pictures of you with your family and friends.

“Didn’t know you played sports,” he said when he found a picture of you in high school with a medal.

“High school track team,” you said. “I was an amazing sprinter.”

“What made you stop?”

“Knee injury. I had to get surgery. I stopped when I graduated.” He was surprised at the new information. He looked over at you.

“You don’t look like a sprinter.” You blushed at his comment.

“Well, I haven’t really worked out as much,” you forced yourself to say. “Besides, I’ve been a busy bee.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean to.” He continued to look and found you with, what he assumed, your father. You turned to look at him and caught him looking at the picture. You smiled, eyes back to the dishes.

“The picture you’re looking at is when I just got into college. My ex took that photo. I just started college,” you said.

“What about your mother?” he asked curiously.

“She lives in America with her new husband. I’m not close to her. We just text each other holiday greetings.” Nanami nodded.

“Will I meet your dad?” he asked. It grew more silent, sounds of the rushing water of the sink just running. He was about to call your name again, but you finally answered him.

“Yeah, you’ll meet him.” He walked inside the kitchen and you just finished washing the dishes.

“I should head out soon. I have work in the morning.”

“Okay then. Will I get to see you more while I’m on break?” you asked curiously.

“Only if you want me to.” You followed him to the door as he put on his shoes.

“Of course I do! I would love to see you everyday if I could.” You slightly flinched. You did not plan to say that to him out loud. But Nanami was happy to hear it. He walked up to you, holding your chin gently so you would look at him.

“I would love that too,” he said softly. You wondered if he could hear how loud your heart was beating. When Nanami leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the lips, you swore you almost forgot to breathe and you felt your knees buckle. You held onto his arms as you kissed him back. “I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

“Y-Y-Yeah,” you stuttered, still processing the kiss you shared with him. “Call me. Text me. Come over if you have to.”

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

“G-Goodnight.”

Nanami gently closed the door. You couldn’t help but touch your lips. You could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours. In the end, you couldn’t help but let out a loud ‘yes’ as you headed to bed.

Nanami heard. He smiled widely as he left the floor.

[redbullcateringfiction]

Chapter 2 -

Cantata

Arabella is the executive assistant for Mercedes Team Principal Toto Wolff. 10 years into her career, it looks like the tide is changing, and she's beginning to question her relationship with him. Is it something more, or nothing but an idea lingering in her head?

F/M, Fluff, Boss/Employee Relationship, Romance, Pining, Love, Slow Burn

Second chapter below the cut or click here for AO3

Click here for the previous chapter on Tumblr, and click here for a list of all chapters

(Total: 7270 words thus far)

“How long have you been with Mercedes?” Mr. Wolff asked me.

“2 years at this point,” I nodded.

“And prior to that?”

“I was a personal assistant for an acting agent at United Agents,” I answered. “Prior to that, I received a Level 5 executive assistant diploma and project management diploma at Souters in the Netherlands.”

“What languages are you fluent in?”

“German, Dutch, Arabic, English, and French,” I explained.

“Arabic…that’s helpful,” he nodded.

“Yes. There was a continuous call for an executive assistant in the marketing department who spoke Arabic when I first applied here. I thought I’d be a good fit.”

“You only have 5 years’ experience at this point, and only 2 in Formula 1. Would you be prepared to take on the level of responsibility that this comes with?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Wolff, I’ve made it through 5 rounds of interviews and 4 exams. I have yet to fail a single one. This might just be what I was made for.”

Mr. Wolff looked up from his note pad and smirked. He seemed to think for just a moment, and then looked me in my eyes. “I agree. Can you start next week?”

~

“There’s a 90-day trial period when you first begin. If we decide to proceed, you’ll sign a formal employment contract for this role. If we don’t, returning to your role in Marketing will still be an option. If this role re-opens, you can re-apply in a year. Do you understand?” The HR manager asked me.

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Do you mind if I say something…off the record so to speak?” He asked.

“No, no problem. Go ahead,” I nodded.

“This will be very hard. And you’re quite young. What, 25? You’ve been here for 2 seasons. We’ve only really been this team, like this at least, for 3 seasons. This will only continue to get harder. With Haug gone, we’ve got this new guy. You’re not just his assistant, you’re going to act like his curator with everyone else. You’re going to be the one really driving this connection. Afterall, you’re the one who plans every step of the day. If you leave during those 90 days, you get to take home 50% of your salary to keep you from going to another team. If you leave after 6 months, you get to take home 100% of the salary for a whole year. I’m just saying, you won’t struggle if you get tired of this.”

I thought for a moment. Was he telling me to leave or was he telling me I could? Was this a warning or a recommendation?

“Thanks,” I answered. I picked up my new badge off the desk. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

~

“It’s the end of the 90 days, Ms. Lazaar,” Mr. Wolff said, sitting me down at his desk. “Let’s have a talk.”

I could feel my forehead dripping beads of sweat. I hadn’t been perfect. Not at all. But I’d been pretty darn close. I have no clue what the threshold is for failure. That’s not something I was entirely used to. Executive assistants frequently find themselves doing this for years. If this didn’t work out, I don’t know if I would want to go back to marketing. I had spent the past 3 months in different countries, watching races from the pit practically. I experienced Formula 1 at a level I never imagined. Going back to sitting at a desk answering phone calls wouldn’t cut it anymore. This felt like it. And there’s only so many teams. There are only so many jobs just like this with my skillset. If this didn’t work out…well…I’d probably be at a bank by next year.

“How do you think you’ve done?” He asked. I hated questions like these. What was the point? You already know how I’ve done.

“I think I’ve done well. I haven’t been perfect. The first two weeks were hard, but after that settling in was easy,” I explained, with a small white lie about the ease. Nothing about this was easy.

“Easy?”

“I may have been bluffing,” I quickly gave up. He chuckled in response. Suddenly the air felt much lighter. My nerves suddenly subsided. I blotted my forehead with a tissue.

“Do you feel close to burning out at all?”

Yes. “No.”

“Was that a bluff?”

Okay, maybe I had been a bit emphatic with that no. And perhaps a bit dramatic with my thinking. “A little. This isn’t easy. This is hard. This is tiring. But I like it. I think I might even love it. I enjoy it. Sacrificing a few hours of sleep makes this worth it,” I answered.

“Well, I can tell you enjoy it. I think you’ve done a great job. I’m excited to see what you do with the rest of your tenure here at Mercedes,” He smiled, passing me an official hiring contract. I signed it with no second thoughts.

~

I looked down at my Tinder profile. In several of the pictures, I had put forth an effort to show off my long and dark curly hair. My favorite picture, was of course, first. It helped to showcase the kind of lifestyle you lead to ensure you only get matches you actually like. That picture was of me, on a yacht in Monaco with Lewis Hamilton and Valtteri Bottas. What else screams “are you good enough for me?” quite like that? I need a new one though. This was getting a bit old.

“Ten years, yes?” Toto suddenly asked.

“Huh?” I lilted, looking up from my phone.

“Ten years at Mercedes for you. Coming up, isn’t it?”

“Is it? Has it been 10 years? Oh…well yes. I guess it has. I think in April.”

“April 18 th , to be exact,” He nodded.

“Cool,” I sighed, going back to my phone. I felt a hand come over and my phone had suddenly disappeared out of my view. I turned and Toto had it in his hand. This was the stuff of nightmares. There is no way in hell my boss can know I’m on Tinder. My heart jumped out of my chest as I suddenly went to reach over for it, I saw the screen had darkened. He at least had done me the favor of pressing the power button.

“Give it back,” I groaned.

“You’re so glued to your phone,” He mockingly groaned back.

“It’s literally my job to be.”

“Ah, then what are you so busy with at this moment that you can’t tell me what you’d like for your 10 th anniversary at the company?”

“None of your business,” I frowned.

“Then answer what it is that you’d like.”

“I don’t know, a pen or something? Can I have my phone back now?”

“A pen? A fucking pen? For a decade at a company, you want a pen? ”

“Yes. I’d love a pen. Now give me back my phone.”

He disappointingly handed over my phone. I continued swiping away until I noticed him take out his own phone. I looked up and scoffed, and he chuckled knowing exactly why. I looked back down and saw a profile that stood out. A super like.

Jeffrey, 40

I’m the nice guy your mom told you to settle down with, but with slightly less hair and more traveling.

Yeah, I’ve read worse. I swiped right and messaged him. As I patiently waited for a response, I looked back at Toto. I watched as he looked through the padfolio, seemingly memorizing every word on the page. I had, for a long time, deliberately put my head in the sand when it came to him. This morning though had seemed to shock me, and suddenly I found myself lingering on him. His hands turning the pages, his glasses slipping off his nose, and the way his dark eyes traced the pages I had written. In many ways, he is incredibly-Ah, my phone vibrated.

Jeffrey: Hey! Nice to meet you, Arabella. You’re a secretary?

I sighed and typed out my reply. Not a secretary. An executive assistant. “Fucking men,” I mumbled. Toto looked over with an eyebrow raised. I awkwardly smiled and went back to my phone.

Jeffrey: Oh, sorry! So, you know Hamilton?

If I were the type to cackle evilly, I would at this moment.

Me: I work with him.

Now, to let that fester a little bit. I looked down into my bag and pulled out my schedule and began making the necessary calls for tonight. It’s important to verify everything. First, the hotel, immediately followed by the driving company. I had nearly forgotten and phoned down UBS to ensure that the investors have their meeting scheduled for the correct time. I placed the necessary checkmarks in my schedule that represented ‘Yes, I’ve called them. Now it’s their fault if anything has gone wrong.’

And of course, to top it off, Bombardier. “Yes, we have the jet chartered for tomorrow morning at 8am,” Our private contact, Leanna, answered.

“Oh, perfect. And could you make sure that breakfast is ready for everyone?”

“Yes, absolutely. The usual for everyone?” She asked.

“Yes, and make sure Mr. Wolff’s pumpernickel snaps like a cookie. I think I recall it being a little too lightly toasted last time. Oh, and next week, we have that flight scheduled, too? Right?”

“Yes. I’ll send you an email too to verify all the rest of the flights for the year. But for you, Arabella! I don’t have your breakfast here.”

“Oh, I’m going to cook for myself in the morning. I’m a sucker for an English breakfast.”

“You sure?” She insisted.

“Really, Leanna. They are my bread and butter. Literally.”

She gave me a nice pity chuckle. “Okay, well, Francis will meet you at Heathrow.”

“Thank you, Leanna. Speak with you next week.”

“Obviously!” She laughed, hanging up the phone. I placed my checkmark next to the flight. I looked over at my phone and saw the new response.

Jeffrey: Oh, you work at Brackley?

You could say that.

Me: Yes.

Jeffrey: Well, I’d love to meet with you tonight and talk more about ourselves. What time are you free?

I gave it a little thought. It’s so easy to plan for everyone else.

Me: Does 9pm work for you?

Jeffrey: Perfect, how about Angler?

I’m impressed. And its close! Oh, God. Does he work for UBS? Am I over thinking this? I’m overthinking this. Why would 9pm be okay if he worked for UBS? He would certainly be at this event.

Me: Perfect-er.

Jeffrey: See you then.

I took my last glance at my phone before looking up at the driver’s GPS. 45 minutes left to go. I checked my email and did the slightest bit more work but otherwise enjoyed the little break I was getting. Every so often, I would peek my head up at Toto and watched him do little of much alike me. It doesn’t take long to read the documents I prepare, by design. I watched briefly for a moment as he Facetimed his children and watched his face beam with pride and joy. I tried not to watch for long, pretending instead that I wasn’t listening. Slowly, but surely, 45 minutes turned to 30, and then to 5. Then all of a sudden we were on the move. I grabbed the suitcases out of the trunk as Toto managed the other bags. We headed in through the large omniscient glass doors after crossing the courtyard, and I phoned down to the UBS executive assistant.

“Hello, this is Marie.”

“Hi, Marie. It’s Arabella and Mr. Wolff. We’re in the lobby,” I spoke quietly.

“Excellent, I’ll come down and meet you. Mr. Fischer will be about 5 minutes late for the meeting, but Mr. Wolff is welcome to start.”

“I’ll let him know. Thank you, Marie,” I said, right before hanging up.

“Okay, Toto. Bobby Fischer is going to be about 5 minutes late, but you’re welcome to start. Please actually do start. Don’t linger,” I explained.

“Will do, Arabella,” He sighed. He handed me my crossbody and I slinged it over my shoulder. “Ah there she is.”

I looked across the lobby and saw Marie walking towards us. The world of executive assistants is small, and we’ve truly all begun to know each other. Not all of the driver’s have assistants but Marie was Lewis Hamilton’s ex-assistant. Leaving your boss in this line of work is truly a bit like a break up, and this must feel like running into your ex’s parents a bit. I still get uncomfortable walking past the Marketing department. However, Marie was just like most of us current or ex F1 assistants. She was a hard ass. Much more controlling than you’d expect out of your typical assistant, and if I’m considered demanding, Marie is 10-fold. I don’t know if that management style worked for Lewis, but it's what a field like banking demands at times, so I imagine the crossover wasn’t as odd as it must seem. 

“Wonderful to see you again, Arabella. And you too, Toto. Arabella, meet us on the 38th floor at approximately 1:30. I can have coffee made for you at arrival. Black coffee right?” It sounded less like a question and more like a statement.

“Absolutely. See you then,” I nodded. She ceremoniously walked towards the elevator with Toto, almost like a passing of the torch. I headed outside and brought up the directions to the hotel. Just around the corner really, but I can be a bit silly and somehow get all turned around. Truly why F1 driving was never for me.

I wandered into the hotel and saw the clear signs for the Angler restaurant. I knew it was close to the hotel, but it hadn’t processed it was in the hotel. I walked up to the check in counter while sending off the quickest message to my Tinder date. Have you made reservations? 

“Hello, yes, I need to check in for Torger Wolff,” I explained.

“Ahh, for the Mercedes F1 team staying here tonight?” She asked. 

“Yep,” I nodded.

“Can I see some ID?” 

I handed over my ID and my phone quickly buzzed. 

Jeffrey: Yes! Wouldn’t dare not to.

Oh, perfect. Great. Couldn’t get any better. 

Me: Oh! Perfect! Great, couldn’t get any better! See you there.

I looked back up at her while she studied my ID. 

“Are you with the Mercedes F1 team?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“What is it that you do?” She asked, almost snidely. 

“I’m an assistant.”

“To whom?”

“Who do you think? Lewis Hamilton? Or the guy who’s bags I’m trying to drop off?” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t see you have a room booked here. How am I to know if you’re not just a groupie or something?”

“A groupie? In a suit?” I questioned, before shaking my head. I was trying to shake off what I really wanted to say in this instance. “Check the notes. It’s very clear that I’m authorized to enter his room and to check in.”

“I see no notes,” She smiled. 

“Then call your supervisor,” I smiled back. I saw her roll her eyes as she picked up the phone. Soon enough, a young gentleman walked behind the counter. He had to be younger than me.

“Yes?” He asked.

“She is attempting to check in for the Mercedes F1 Team Principal. I see nothing on here about her checking him in,” She explained. Her manager took a glance at the computer screen, then over at me. He looked me up and down, before going back to the computer screen.

“Is this your ID?” He asked.

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Please, don’t catch an attitude. We’re simply trying to ensure the safety of our guests,” He smiled. An attitude? “I see you have no room booked tonight under the block of rooms for Mercedes-Petronas. Am I to believe that you simply are here to enter his room and then leave?”

“Yes, you absolutely are. Especially considering I have shown you my ID,” I explained.

“Then why aren’t you staying here if you’re with the team?”

“I live in London. In Chelsea?” I nodded.

“That’s a long way from here,” He sighed.

“Is it? It’s like half an hour,” I insisted. “No, nevermind that. I am here to check in for Toto-Torger Wolff. I am his executive assistant. I have a badge for Brackley that I will happily show you. I have no intention of staying at your hotel today because I would like to sleep in my own bed before heading to a whole other country for testing. I would like to simply drop off his bags in his room and ensure everything is up to snuff because that is my job . Nothing else, nothing more.”

“How about you just give us the bags and we’ll drop them off in his room?” He tried to appeal to my growing frustration.

“How about I take the bags up so I can do the other half of my job?” 

He simply shook his head. I handed him my Brackley ID and he looked it over.

“Could these be faked?” He another hotel staff member who came over due to the commotion

“Fur sure they cud’ be,” he answered in a thick scottish accent. “My mukker’s git one for McLaren.”

“We won’t accept this,” He smiled at me again. The smiles were beginning to look faker and faker by the moment. This is the primary issue I find myself in being a Black woman working for what are essentially, sports celebrities. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if they turned around and asked Lewis to leave. 

“Here,” I gave up. I took out a business card for Bono. “Has he checked in yet? Give him a call and let him verify me.”

They took the card and dialed the number. They hung up after a few moments.

“He didn’t pick up,” They shrugged. 

“Fine, do me the favor of at least taking the bags then? Up to the room?” I babbled. Words seemed to be lost on me at this moment.

“I think we’ll actually not. We can’t be sure what the content of those bags are,” the manager nodded.

Please. For fuck’s sake. “I’ll see you back at 2:00pm,” I tried to smile.

I took the bags back over to the UBS offices, and took the elevator up to the 38th floor and walked towards Marie’s desk. There she was sitting scrolling through her phone.

“Oh, Arabella,” she mumbled looking up. She looked at the clock, and then at her phone, and then up at my face. She stood up and looked down at my hands. “You’re early…and you still have the bags. Was the room not ready?”

“They refused to let me in,” I sighed. 

“Again?” She questioned. I raised an eyebrow up at her. She was a pale skin tone, and had medium brunette hair that brushed her shoulders. 

“I’m black, Marie. Yes, again,” I stated as I sat on the chairs by the office entrance.

She frowned. “Let me go get your coffee, love.” It was truly the lightest voice, and kindest voice, Marie had ever offered me. She usually gives me no type of affection, even though were in the same career. I think it’s a bit cutthroat and she got used to turning everyone away. I wasn’t used to this type of response from her. She soon returned and handed me the cup of coffee, sitting down next to me.

“Well, I’m sorry about that. I know, beyond all else, I can’t understand this type of situation as deeply and as well as you. Nonetheless, I know you’re good at your job, and that this simply isn’t fair for someone of your caliber.”

I stared into the cup of coffee for a moment, really letting her response process. I looked up at her and her flat expression. A signal of care for her. 

“Thanks, Marie,” I offered a slight smile as I sipped my coffee.

“No need to fake a smile. I would call, but they’d probably pretend they don’t know who I am either,” She acknowledged. 

“Don’t worry. His bags have to get in somehow.”

“So, what have you been up to you? Outside of this?”

“Nothing really. This is all I’ve been up to.”

“Listen, I don’t miss that life at all,” She mumbled. “There’s nothing quite like getting to work at 9 in the morning, and leaving at 5 in the evening. This is consistency. There’s no jetting across the world. I mean, I can actually have a relationship. I’m getting married, for Christ’s sake. That’s not possible in F1.”

“I want none of those things.”

“Is that why your phone just went off with a Tinder notification?” She chuckled. I looked down and Jeffrey had sent a message. I think I just passed you in Broadgate Circle! You must be there for the Mercedes event tonight at UBS, right?

I quickly responded. Yes, actually! Sorry, I didn’t notice you.

“That’s for hookups,” Not for boyfriends.

“Ah, nothing more, huh?” She answered.

“No.”

Jeffrey: Oh! Did you want to push our dinner to another day? Or did you want to meet at the event? I’m a lawyer for UBS so I didn’t see much of the point of going, but I’d be happy to.

Fuck. 

Me: No, no! I’m completely fine with meeting at 9. I’m leaving the event early.

Jeffrey: Okay, great! Sorry if there was any confusion. See you at Angler.

I wasn’t overthinking! Isn’t this the best? Your anxiety being right always prevents it from going too far the next time. Obviously. Totally. For sure.

“I’ll leave you to your work now,” Marie smirked, standing up. “But I highly recommend leaving F1. What’s the plan? To be 60 and still galavanting around?”

“Presuming Toto Wolff still is, yes,” I grinned falsely. She rolled her eyes and walked behind her desk. I looked over my notes for the hotel. Everyone knew I was supposed to be checking in, and yet, nothing changed. These kinds of things seem to somehow never change. But, my checkmark reassured me. You did everything right. Now it’s their fault if anything goes wrong. That’s what it means, and it's a serious thing. 

Soon enough, Toto left the meeting.

“Have a good afternoon, everyone! See you tonight,” He smiled, shutting the door. He looked over and saw me with the bags, and gently pinched the bridge of his nose. “Again, Arabella?”

“Again.”

“Once every few years, huh,” He said, grabbing the bags and immediately walking towards the elevator. I jumped up and followed him. As the years had gone on, Toto had gradually become more keenly aware of two things: He is a celebrity, and I am Black. As a result of his growing celebritas, and my very unchanging Blackness, these types of occurrences had become more frequent. 

“So what was the reason now?” He asked. 

“I look like a groupie,” I shrugged.

“A groupie? In a suit?” 

“That’s what I said.”

Toto rolled his eyes and moved his glasses to his shirt collar.

“How was the meeting?” I offered.

“The usual. Numbers this, offers that. Etcetera, etcetera,” He waved his hand almost at the suggestion we could have a normal conversation at this moment. I took that as my sign to quiet down, and just follow him. So I did. The second we arrived to the hotel I watched as the original front desk employee scurried to the back, and the supervisor made a return. He smiled far too brightly for this moment.

“Arabella, introduce yourself,” Toto gestured to the supervisor as we walked up.

“No introduction necessary. The employee who just ran to the back introduced originally,” I smiled, even more brightly than the supervisor. I watched as his look turned a bit sour.

“Ah, well go grab her too. Was anyone else involved in this?” Toto asked me.

“A Scottish man but he didn’t really have much to say,” I shrugged.

“Oh, never mind who did and didn’t say anything. The point remains. Go grab the other two individuals she’s referring to,” He ordered the supervisor. We watched as he scurried about the backroom and nearly dragged the two out by their necks. As they approached the desk, he hid behind them like a scared puppy.

“I saw that your name tag said front desk manager, you can’t hide behind these two,” Toto complained. The man stepped from around the two employees. “Go ahead, tell me what happened.”

“What happened with what? I’m sorry, can we check you in Mr. Wolff? I’m not sure what’s going on,” The young lady suddenly piped up.

“You seem awfully scared to not know. Let me have an explanation, please,” Toto nodded.

“Well-” She began to speak again but was quickly interrupted by her boss.

“We asked her to show ID, and the produced ID appeared to be fake. So we did not allow her into the room,” The manager stated, suddenly piping up.

“So, did she provide any other identification?” Toto asked. 

“No,” The manager replied.

“Arabella, don’t you usually have a lanyard with your Brackley ID on it?” Toto asked, turning to me.

“Oh, yeah, they have it. I never grabbed it back. Nor my ID for that matter, which they didn’t mention being potentially fraudulent when I came up here,” I sighed. 

Toto put his hand out, and they handed over my identification. A Danish passport and the Brackley ID.

“And Bono’s card,” I gestured. The manager reached into the trash and took out Peter Bonnington’s business card, and handed it to me.

“So, did you call Bono?” Toto asked them.

“We did yes, but he didn’t pick up,” The manager replied.

“Oh okay, let me verify right quick,” Toto nodded, taking out his own phone and dialing Bono. “Bono, hello, you’re on speaker phone. Did you get a call from the hotel earlier?”

“No…was I supposed to?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Toto said immediately before hanging up. He just simply stared at them for a moment.

“Here’s your room key, Mr. Wolff,” The front desk woman said, handing the key to Toto.

“One for me, too,” I smiled. She produced another and handed it to me, with huge screaming eyes that said ‘save me.’ No, I don’t think I will.

“And at this moment, right now, place a note on the account saying Arabella Lazaar is my assistant and any needs she may have related to my reservation should be addressed,” Toto ordered them.

“Actually, could you tell me who made the block for the rooms?” I asked.

“That would be uh…” The manager said, scrambling around the computer. “Um…you Ms. Lazaar.”

“Is this incompetency or is this bigotry? I’m not sure which, but whichever, I recommend the three of you have new jobs lined up in the morning. And when they ask ‘Oh how did you get fired?’ Don’t put anyone from my team’s name in your mouth, including my own,” Toto grumbled. They nodded, and he turned on his heel and walked towards the elevator.

“Oh, Mr. Wolff!” The front desk lady nearly screamed at the top of her lungs. “We’ve upgraded your room to the presidential suite.”

He threw his hand up dismissively as we got into the elevator, as if to say both ‘thank you’ and ‘just stop.’ As we got in he turned to me and took a deep breath. 

“They were quite the group of idiots weren’t they? I’ll call the company behind this place and get it sorted out.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Nothing to appreciate really, these things shouldn’t go this way. You provided everything they needed, and yet they decided to still treat you wrong. That’s on them, and they should’ve known there would be consequences for their actions,” He explained. “We have our own security. It helps when the front desk at hotels also pays attention to possible situations, but at the end of the day, they’re not supposed to go beyond their liability. They took it much too far, and who’s to know if you were the first, or if they’d be worse next time?”

“I understand that, but,” I hesitated. “They still need their jobs, and I don’t want my boss turning around and using his fame to protect me.”

Toto looked up at me, and smiled. “Arabella, we have responsibilities to one another. You handle nearly every moment of my life. In turn, yes, I pay you, but I also make sure that while under my employment, you’re well treated. That would be the same if this were Formula 1 or if it were just another company.”

I thought for a moment, and while I knew he was right, I don’t know how comfortable I felt having anyone take responsibility for me. But…I suppose…everyone needs things addressed that they can’t handle themselves. There isn’t really anyone else for me to rely on. That’s kind of frightening. Suddenly, Marie’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. I almost thought I would get dizzy. I’m 35 now. I love my life, but am I wasting it? Should I be settling down? 

I looked over at Toto who seemed to be patiently awaiting my response. 

“Yes. You’re right,” I stated, a little too shakily. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked as we exited the elevator. 

“No, just stressed, really.”

“You have vacation days. You should take one,” Toto shrugged, pressing the key to the door and swinging it open. 

“I only use them during the holiday break. We’re far from that.”

“If you think of the week between testing and the first race as a holiday, then it’s right around the corner,” He winked, as he opened the door for me.

“Absolutely not,” I chuckled, setting his suitcase on the bed. I took a quick look around the room and then texted security to let them know Toto was inside the hotel room. 

“Looks good, Toto. I’ll head out,” I said with a quick head nod. 

“There’s a whole separate room attached here. If you want to change here, you’re welcome to,” He spoke without looking up from his phone. 

I could feel my cheeks get hot, so without thinking I just ran out of the room, trying to pretend I didn’t hear him. I immediately pressed my hand to my forehead. That was stupid. It was a relatively normal offer. There was nothing weird about that and yet I reacted like he asked me to jump off of the London eye. Shit. I made it weird didn’t I? Or did he make it weird? Was it weird at all? No, no it wasn’t. God, Arabella. Stop overthinking for once. I headed for the elevator and went down. As I was leaving, I couldn’t resist making a little bit of eye contact with reception. 

Ha.

Tags: @daddyslittlevillain

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

My husband worries a lot about his heart. “I feel something right here,” he’ll say, pointing to a spot on his chest. I have a hard time knowing how to respond to these reports; unless I’m doing cardio, I’m never aware of my heartbeat, and even then I can’t really feel it. After my husband’s cardiologist told him that there was nothing wrong with his heart, I figured that his fascination with it was just melodrama, or hypochondria.

Then I read a study by Sarah Garfinkel, a neuroscientist at University College London. Garfinkel monitored the heartbeats of twenty people who’d been diagnosed with autism, and also asked them to count the beats themselves. In a second study with sixty autistic individuals, she played a rhythmic, beeping tone and asked her subjects to say whether it was in synch with their pulses. At first, many people who’d declared themselves “good” at detecting their own heartbeats failed these tasks. But, as the tests went on, they improved. Some of the participants had reported having anxiety, and about a third of them said that, as they became better at detecting their heartbeats accurately, they also felt less anxious. My husband isn’t autistic, but he does experience anxiety, and Garfinkel’s study made me wonder whether he might be like some of her study participants. Maybe he was wrongly convinced that he was good at feeling his heartbeat, but also able to improve that sense—a change that could ease his worries.

Scientists call our ability to feel what’s happening inside our bodies interoception. A portmanteau of “interior” and “reception,” it differs from perception, which comes from our five senses, and proprioception, which tells us how we are oriented in space. Interoception is an inner sense having to do with our bodily processes. It can be divided into three rough categories. The first comprises feelings that break through into consciousness based on need; this is how we know when we need to pee or sleep or hydrate, and how we grasp that our hearts are racing after a good jump scare. The second encompasses the unconscious ways in which our brains and bodies communicate; our brains detect high glucose levels in our livers, for example, then release hormones that trigger our metabolisms, and we are unaware of the process. A vast number of these silent interoceptive processes are going on within us all the time.

The third category of interoception has to do with how our bodies and minds, together, sense and respond to the flow of events. On a recent Zoom call, Tim Dalgleish, a psychologist at the University of Cambridge, told me that the body is constantly delivering a set of signals—changes in our heart rates, breathing, digestion, and so on—that fluctuate along with the events we are encountering. It’s tempting to see the flow of information as one-way, from the mind to the body; we might understand an escalating heart rate, say, as a “reaction” to a feeling of nervousness. (An exam is placed on our desks, we grow nervous, and our hearts start racing in response.) But Dalgleish told me that it made more sense to think of the body and mind working synchronously as part of a single “prediction system.” “I don’t think we are ‘reacting’ to anything,” he said. Instead, we are constantly forecasting what is about to happen, with our bodies and minds contributing to that forecast. “There’s a mental component and a bodily component,” Dalgleish said. “They both happen at the same time.”

When we talk about “listening to our bodies” or “going with our guts,” we are often talking about this type of interoception. Close your eyes at any given moment, and you can gauge your over-all mood—good, bad, excited, tired, a bit down, or generally pleased. This mood combines what’s going on in your mind with how your organs, muscles, and nerves are embodying the moment. “Interoception is your ability to notice that signal,” Dalgleish said.

Not everyone is good at interpreting these interoceptive signals, and our abilities vary with our circumstances. In a 2010 study, Dalgleish and his collaborators asked ninety-two people to play a computer game derived from the Iowa gambling task, a psychological test designed to examine decision-making. The task entailed selecting the correct down-facing card from one of four decks, in hopes that it would match the color of an upturned card. Each correct choice earned the player some money. There were differences among the decks, but the game was designed so that it was impossible to figure them out within the time allotted. Still, in the course of a hundred turns, three-quarters of the participants got better at selecting the “profitable” deck of cards.

The point of the study was to see whether any bodily changes distinguished the people who improved from the ones who did not. While the subjects played, the researchers measured their heart rates and skin temperatures. They found that predictable bodily changes happened among those who got better at the game. Right before those subjects guessed, their hearts beat faster and their palms became sweaty; then they chose the right card. “People who were good at reading their bodies were the ones who did really well,” Dalgleish said. None of the players experienced themselves as being guided by these physical cues. Instead, they just went with their guts.

Why were some players more tuned into these signals than others? In 2022, Garfinkel and a colleague, Chatrin Suksasilp, provided one of the first comprehensive descriptions of how “listening to our bodies” might really work. First, they argued, come the various, often incremental somatic changes that happen continuously; our minds then translate these signals into a single feeling. The accuracy of this process, they wrote, can vary at every step. People with post-traumatic stress disorder, for instance, often experience racing hearts at moments that don’t seem to call for them; similar disproportionate responses often arise among people with other mental-health difficulties, or who are chronically stressed. Meanwhile, these signals form an amalgam that is funnelled into certain regions of the brain, such as the insular cortex and the dorsal mid-insula. “Some people have loads of activity in key areas, and other people don’t,” Garfinkel said—in other words, some people have stronger interoceptive signals.

And yet, even if you’re receiving a strong signal from your body, it can be inaccurate. Consistently perfect interoception is impossible: sometimes we listen to our hearts, but they have the wrong message; at other times, the message is right, but we don’t hear it. The body itself changes our capacity to listen. Garfinkel asked me to imagine an athlete who stays in the game while clearly injured: in a hyper-aroused state, she said, a person can become numb to pain. And interoception is complicated by the fact that it’s tightly tied to our personal experiences. Whatever happened to us in the past—a dangerous encounter with a stranger, a scary movie that made a big impression, time on the battlefield—alters how our bodies respond in the future. If a person’s responses are sufficiently shaped by such experiences, then listening to her body might lead her astray.

Given how easy it is for interoception to go wrong, it’s logical to wonder whether we can become better at getting it right. Some researchers are exploring ways to retrain our interoceptive responses. At the Laureate Institute for Brain Research, in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Sahib Khalsa, a psychiatrist, has been taking this approach with people who have eating disorders. Khalsa trained with Antonio Damasio, a neurologist who popularized the notion that our feelings are rooted in our bodies rather than our minds; in particular, Damasio’s somatic-marker hypothesis lays out the body-to-brain process by which visceral responses shape our decisions. Khalsa’s theory, essentially, is that eating disorders involve, among other things, a cycle of interoceptive mistranslation. A rumbling tummy should stimulate one’s appetite, not evoke fear; feeling full should be part of an over-all pleasant state, not turmoil. Eating disorders are complicated, with roots that extend far beyond the question of how good people are at listening to their bodies. But at least one study has found that people with anorexia perform poorly on interoceptive tests.

A therapist providing food-based interoceptive exposure might offer individuals with eating disorders a piece of chocolate in hopes that, over several sessions, that they will learn to taste and swallow it without becoming emotionally distraught. Khalsa works with one application of this therapy. “The goal is for you to learn to eat this without feeling uncomfortable,” Khalsa explained. He is also investigating the use of float tanks as a form of interoceptive therapy. In a study he published in 2020, twenty-three women with anorexia floated in sensory-deprivation chambers for ninety minutes at a time, once a week, for four weeks. They reported experiencing heightened awareness of their heartbeats and breathing, but not of their stomachs or digestive systems; many also reported feeling relaxed, energized, serene, and happy. (The study doesn’t connect any of these changes to shifts in eating habits.) Khalsa’s theory is that the tanks offer a kind of interoceptive training: if you get better at tracking your own heartbeat, you might get better at tracking your appetite as well. “If I followed a meal with a float . . . I could allow my food to digest without the discomfort of fullness,” Emily Noren writes, in “Unsinkable,” her memoir of overcoming an eating disorder with help from floating. “The float tank was my training wheels for digestion.”

Finally, in work published last month in Nature Communications, Khalsa is exploring the use of a tiny, motorized capsule that vibrates when it reaches the digestive system. People with eating disorders often complain of feeling full or bloated even when they haven’t consumed food; Khalsa thinks that, by practicing sensing the motor, they may be able to retrain their gastrointestinal interoception. The tiny motor creates an opportunity to recognize a real physical sensation in the gut. By distinguishing real from imagined, a person might establish an interoceptive connection that more accurately communicates the state of the body.

Last year, Garfinkel and her colleague, Camilla Nord, at the University College Cambridge, published an overview of how interoception might be used to treat many mental-health conditions. They drew on numerous studies elucidating the connection between interoceptive accuracy and emotions. (People who are better at detecting their heartbeats are also better at regulating negative emotions, for example.) The researchers point out that many therapies that are already in use are also a form of interoceptive intervention: for instance, a single dose of citalopram—a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor prescribed for depression and other mood disorders—enhanced the confidence people had in their correct interoceptive judgments. In other words, they had more insight into what their bodies were doing.

One of the lessons of interoception research, however, is that access and accuracy don’t necessarily go together. Just because we have a bad feeling doesn’t make it right. It’s unwise to assume that increasing people’s interoceptive curiosity will solve their problems. It could be that “you’re just training them to read a signal that’s actually giving them really bad information,” Dalgleish said; it can even be useful for someone to be “trained to ignore their body.” Garfinkel told me that “people with anxiety and depression attend too much to the body.” Data show that people with panic disorders are often hyperaware of their heartbeats. The psychologists Karen Quigley and Lisa Feldman Barrett, who study emotion at Northeastern University, hypothesize that depression stems in part from a “locked-in” brain—a situation in which we fail to account for the possibility that our interoceptive interpretation might be wrong. “If I feel so awful and I can’t see an explanation in the outside world, then that might mean that there’s something wrong with me,” Quigley told me, explaining the mind-set. “There’s this kind of closing inward.” When such a dynamic is ruling a person’s mind, increasing interoceptive awareness isn’t going to help. It may help more to learn to let in the external world.

In 1998, two researchers from the University of Pittsburgh conducted a study in which participants sat at a table with one arm hidden beyond a screen. The researchers set out a fake arm in its place, orienting it so that it appeared to have replaced the real arm, then proceeded to lightly stroke the surface of both arms with a paintbrush. Participants reported what came to be known as the rubber-hand illusion: they could feel the brush even as it touched the fake arm. Years later, psychologists from the U.K. and Italy wanted to see how interoception factored into the trick. In the experiment, people who were better at sensing their cardiac rhythms turned out to be less likely to “embody” the rubber hand—that is, to perceive it as their own limb.

Interoception can help us see ourselves more clearly. The paradox is that it may be at its most accurate when it is, in itself, invisible. In 2021, the National Institutes of Health awarded eighteen million dollars to seven five-year projects focussed on the unconscious pathways linking the body and the brain. And, in 2022, the N.I.H. issued a special call for research centered on interoception as part of cancer prevention. Tumors consume an enormous amount of energy; it’s possible that, by tapping into the brain’s metabolic interoception, we might detect them early. Yet this research concentrates on interoception that is totally unconscious; there is no funding for work investigating whether a person can sense these metabolic changes with her conscious mind. The unconscious signals are often the trustworthy ones. The complications begin when we try to listen in and understand what we’re hearing. We’re urged, for all sorts of reasons, to listen to our hearts. But a life looking inward isn’t necessarily a life well lived. “You don’t want to be focussed too much on the body,” Garfinkel said. “You want to be focussed on the world.” ♦

The New Yorker

Jessica Wapner

[its-tiamat]

Hello! Good luck on your driving exam and your uni :D I want to request something, but no need to rush okay, take your time ^^ sooo my request is.... shigaraki, miruko, and hawks (oh and it's only if you're alright with three characters ofc!) headcanons! welllll so... i'm this type of person who sings when i'm doing something, whether it's doing chores, playing games, or working on my homeworks. i also sing to my cat and act as if i'm a disney character ksskjsjs. Anddd yeah if it's okay i want to request hcs with this type of s/o who sings in their daily life as if they're a disney/musical character ksksks i hope my request makes sense!! Thank you so much, I hope you're doing great!

|| WITH A S/O THAT LIKES TO SING ||

Awww this is so sweet! Anyway, sorry for the long wait, I'm usually faster with requests but yeah. Uni. I'll probs be a bit slower with requests now, but I hope you'll keep liking my lil headcanons!

Pairings: Shigaraki × reader • Miruko × reader • Hawks × reader

Shigaraki looked at you weird when he noticed you dancing around your house, watering your plants and singing to them.

You stopped when your eyes met his, and raised a brow as to ask him if everything was alright.

"Plants can't hear you," he said.

"But you can." You smiled.

He scoffed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. Of course he could hear you. How could you be so relaxed around a deadly villain was still a mystery to him.

"I...'msorry. Didn't wanna bother." You lowered your head, thinking how annoying you must have sounded to him.

"No!" Tomura lifted his hand, as to reach you as you turned around to silently complete your chore. "I like it. Kinda. It's just... unusual."

People were always so stiff around him, yet here you were singing and dancing with a watering can in your hands. For unusual that it was, he had found himself listening to your songs, muttering along to your favorite ones when you weren't listening.

He took a step, half turning on himself in a cranky emulation of your dance, before tripping on his own feet and falling to the ground. You failed to keep in your laugh, as he groaned and moved his hair to the side to look up at you.

"I like it. Please, don't stop singing."

He makes sure you never doubt how much he enjoys hearing your voice again. However, I don't think he'd try to dance with you again soon, he'd be too embarrassed.

Rumi, on the other hand, isn't one to join you or shower you in compliments, although she totally doesn't mind listening to you sing

She'd be the type to have voice notes of you singing that she listens to when she's having a rough day, without ever mentioning it to you. She fears it would cringe you too much.

But I mean, it's so relaxing to listen to you singing as you cook dinner, whenever she can get to stay for dinner and forger her responsibilities for a while.

If you're really really lucky you might hear her humming along to your favorite songs, but it's almost impossible to hear her sing out loud.

Yep, she's kinda self conscious bc her voice is more on the contralto side so she can't really hit those high "princess notes" you nonchalantly sing in. I feel like she'd be one to shrug off your reassurance on how pretty her voice really is, but it could actually have a deep impact on how she perceives herself.

The only way to get her to sing a bit is to blast loud ass music in the car and let her drive down a highway at top speed.

Those are the only times she sings more than you, mostly because you're busy gripping your seat

"Rumi babe, couldn't you slow do-"

"Hah! Like hell! Dis song is fire!"

He loves loves loves hearing you sing, and showers you with compliments.

"Mmmh babe your voice is so pretty."

"You sing so well, it's like a lullaby."

Also calls you "My little Songbird" and it melts your heart every time.

Sometimes youre doing your homework in your room while he's busy outside or in another room when you start singing, and after a few seconds some red feathers start twirling around you as he wants to hear you better.

He's loves pretending to be in a musical with you, and will totally duet you if you ask him to. He still prefers to listen to your voice than to his own of course, but there's something so intimate to him in hearing your voices harmonizing over the lyrics.

Wanna dance in the living room, hand in hand like that scene in The Beauty & The Beast? Asking him may sound a little corny, but he's already smiling like a lovestruck idiot simply at the idea of doing it.

Again, there are feathers everywhere as he doesn't want to lose the tune of your voice if the music is too loud.

Also because romantic mood, and it's like dancing in a rain of red rose petals.

He will fall asleep if you sing to him, like hum to him softly while combing his hair with a hand and it's a matter of seconds before he's sleeping soundly.

masterlist

taglist: @ok-what-now-huh  @liberace2 @whiteusagi   @help-idk-what-my-life-is @comehome2myheart   @peachysuguru   @iam-mentally-unstable

tell me if you want to be added!

[luvhoneypie]

Everybody talks

Pt.1

The teacher stood at his podium as he spoke to the students "So... as third-year students

Aldera Junior High, it's time to start thinking seriously about your futures and what you

want to do with your lives. I could pass out some career aptitude tests. But... Why bother? I know you all want to go to the Hero Track."

The students cheered as he said that. "Yes, yes, you've got some very impressive Quirks but no power usage allowed in school.

"Get a hold of yourselves..." He stayed with his depressed and exhausted tone before bakugou spoke up. "Hey, teach... Don't lump me in with this bunch of losers."

His dead and emotionless tone was starting to get bland and dry, but she kept listening to the teacher and those around her. "I'm the real deal but these guys will be lucky to end up as sidekicks to some busted D-lister." Katsuki spoke up as Y/n snickered, she loved how katski said everything with his full ego on display, it was quite entertaining "Ha! You think you're better than us, Katski?!" One of the students said with a glare. "Let's go, I'll take you all on!" Bakugou said with fierce anger and an even more egotistical tone. The teacher spoke up once again "Huh, you've got impressive test results. Maybe you will get into U.A. High."

  Some of their classmates murmured "He's gonna try for the national school?!"

"That school has a 0.2% acceptance rate!" The. The last spoke up "It's impossible to get into!"

"And that's exactly way it's the only place worthy of me. I aced all of the mock tests.

I'm the only one at this school who stands a chance of getting in. I'll end up more popular

than All Might himself!" He gloated falsely, she was sure he wasn't joking even though she deeply wished he was. Bakugou spoke up again. "And be the richest hero of all time!People all across the world will know who I am,and it all starts with U.A. High! And none of you damn extras have the fucking balls to one-up me-" He was cut off by his teacher speaking up once again Oh yeah, Midoriya and l/n. Don't you want to go to U.A. too?" The class erupted in laughter. It was getting ridiculous on how they teased Midorya relentlessly because of his quirkless status. "Midoriya? You're kidding, right? There's no way of getting into the Hero Course without a Quirk." One black haired student with long fingers stated bluntly with a hinge of amusement in their voice.

"Well, actually they got

rid of that rule. I could be the first one..." Midorya replied rather sheepishly, afraid of what responses he would get. While you on the other hand, supported your friend with your whole heart, mind, and soul! He had always been there for you, now you would always be there for him.

"Listen up, Deku... You're even worse than the rest of these damn rejects, you Quirk-less wannabe!" The angry blond shouted with nothing but pure hatred "You really think they

let someone like you in when they could have me?" Bakugou continued, but Y/n stepped in. "Shut the fuck up, Izuku has done nothing wrong short of out a pin needle in that over-fucking-inflated ego of yours! So shut the fuck up bakugou. "It's been so long since she had referred to him as bakugou, and nkr used honorifics. She must have been done with this silly boys quarrel. "No way!" Midorya interjected "You've got it all wrong. Really! I'm not trying to compete against you." He defended as he continued "You gotta believe me! It's just that... I've wanted to be a hero

since I was little. I may not have an quirk... But I can still try my hardest, can't I?"

He asked earnestly, that's all he'd ever wanted to be. Not the best... But his best. That's more than some could say.. 

"You'd never be able to hang with the best of the best. You'd die in the exams!" Shouted katsuki as he glared daggers at poor Midorya.

"Defenseless Izuku!" He continued "The schools already crappy, you really wanna embarrass it more by failing so hard?" The teacher stopped him before he could keep talking down on izuku "Hey, that's enough bakugou. While it's true, it's totally uncalled for" Bakugou said nothing as he rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his hand.

"Oh, and y/n. Please refrain from foul language." She regrettably nodded and sat back in her seat.

After class has finished, the murmurs of the remaining students could be heard

"Oh yeah, we should go to karaoke tonight." One said as they slung their bag over their shoulder. "Yeah, let's go... But man, that fight from this morning. Did you hear about it? Its all over the news." Y/n was already waiting at the door, being as she had already had her things and belongings placed and in her bag. She decided to help izuku with grabbing his things, the only thing left was his very 'Secret' book, Which only she knew the contents of it. As they both prepared to leave katsuki gruffly spoke up. "I don't know where the fuck either of you are going... Especially you Shitty face, but we're not done." Katsuki said gruffly, a smirk plastered onto his face with glaring and murderous eyes. "What ya got, his diary?" Another student, one of his lackeys said questioning the notebook in katsuki's hands.

The book read "Hero Analysis for the Future".

"Don't tell me you're taking notes

on how to be a hero. It's so pathetic!" Katsuki laughed as y/n glared him down. "He's delusional!" A lackey said with a laugh. "Yeah, real funny, guys." Izuku responded rather sheepishly. "Just give it back." "Listen, just give the damn book back. Please bakugou"

y/n pleaded with him, but he had no intention of listening to anything she said

"Most first-string heroes show potential early on, people look at them and just know

they're destined for greatness." Bakugou said as he still firmly held the book. "When I'm the only student from this garbage junior high

to get into U.A., people will start talking about me like that. They'll realise I'm legit,

the next big thing."

Y/n sighed as she looked over at bakugou and she thought 'i miss the way it was, when we were all friends.. but ever since he got that damned quirk everything changed... a long with his damned ego...'

"That's not ego talking, I just know I'm good." He replied as of he had read her mind

"Ego..." Izuku whispered. "Here's a little word of advice, nerd: Don't even think of applying, or else." He snarled as izuku whimpered "That's just sad." One of the students piped up as they looked at the dejected Izuku. "I thought you'd at least had some fight in you."

"He finally gets it, he'll never be a hero." Said bakugou as he looked down at the poor, green haired boy. "Better to find out now

instead of later, I guess."

"You know, if you really want to be a hero that badly, There actually might be another way..." Said katsuki with a smirk... Somehow she  knew what was coming next, but her body wouldn't let her do anything, let alone say anything. "Just pray that you'll be born with

a Quirk in your next life, and take a swan-dive

off the roof of the building." That's when she finally spoke up. "What... The... Fuck..."

She spat venomously as she glared at him through her hair. Her finger tips were lightly sparking with electricity as she slowly balled them into a fist "Something wrong?" He snarled and glared down at her figure. She took a deep breath before she spoke. "Izuku... Go." He reluctantly nodded and complied and left the classroom to go home.

"What the fuck is wrong with you bakugou!?"

She shouted angrily as her fist grew lighter. "That's going to far! Even for an asshole like yourself" "I mean, if the shoe fits." Bakugou replied with a grin. He rolled his shoulders before shifting his stance to a more casual one. "besides, that loser's nothing more than a speck of dust on my shoe." She balled her fists tighter as she looked up at him near the podium where he was standing "He was your best friend for God's sakes bakugou! We were all friends... I was your fucking friend.. so what the fuck changed?"

She said angrily as she crossed her arms. Katsuki tilted his head back, giving her an indifferent look before settling back down onto the podium and crossing his arms. "Friend?" He scoffed. "He was nothing more then a loser who held me back. Don't mistake my pity for friendship." Bakugou's voice was cold, as if he were an ice statue. His words cut like knives. "So shut the fuck up l/n." He spat back. "None of this concerns you, this is between me and that damned deku." "No... Not anymore its not. And what about me asshole! You were my first real friend, my only one when I came to this god forsaken fucking city..." She said with an unidentical tone... He couldn't tell weather or not she was sad or angry. Katsuki shifted his stance slightly, before lowering his tone and body slightly to appear more casual. "I admit that you may have been my first... Friend." Katsuki was the type to always maintain a tough-guy facade. "It wasn't like I cared about you though." He smirked. "yeah, I noticed..." She said with a soft smile and she grabbed her bag*

"Well, see ya... Good bye bakugou" In those moments he hadn't realized what happened... until seconds later when she was out the door... it hit him 'good bye... bakugou'. Katsuki stiffened at the words. They sounded... Colder than she made them seem. The words made him feel a chill run down his spine. He looked at Yuji, his eyes widening.  He was blank... his eyes only filled with confusion untill it hit him...the words singed his mind "fuck.." He whispered as he shoved his hands in his pockets ans walked out the door

[ashketchumseleventhbirthday]

Remedial Classes in Essay Composition

Summary: Due to his extended absences from the Academy, Arven is about to fail out of school. Director Clavell arranges for some help.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 1800

Notes: Arven feels like the sort of person who’s absolutely insufferable if they think they’re right.

There is a right way to react to bad news and a wrong way, and Arven seems hell-bent in always getting it wrong.

“Why the fuck do I have to get a tutor? I have the highest fucking IQ in this school!”

Director Clavell sighs. So much for a mature conversation…

“That might be true, Mr. Turo, but this is not in discussion. It, apparently, has had no bearing on your academic performance.” The older man points out, a chilling glare settling the boy back into his seat.

The blond looks away and a grimace takes over his expression. “I know that my grades are less than stellar, but it’s not that bad.”

“As of the last battery of exams, you have the lowest grades in your class.” The teacher counters. “Since we do not grade on a curve, this would not necessarily pose an issue, but it has become quite clear that, should you not improve significantly on your remedials, you will be inevitably held back this year. Believe me, it is exactly this bad.”

“I…!” A protest rises in his throat, but it dies right back down. “Yes, OK, fine. You know why I don’t attend the lessons, Director Clavell. This is important to me, it’s very important. I’m not like those punks at Team Star.”

The principal sighs again, his countenance softening. “I know, and I understand your situation. If it were up to me, I assure you, we would not have been having this conversation. While I had been able to be lenient with those circumstances so far, the members of the board feel that enough is enough. I am sorry, but my hands are tied. This is the best deal I can offer you.”

Arven takes a moment, and then looks deep into his guardian’s eyes. “What now?”

“Ms. Franco is going to be tutoring you for now and we shall see if your grades improve by the next test.” The principal informs the boy. “Try to make an effort, at least, my boy.”

*_*_*_*_*

Juliana Franco is sitting on her own in an empty classroom, waiting for Arven to turn up.

This is not something that she thought she would be doing at a Tuesday afternoon, but, alas, this is what she gets for not knowing how to say no.

She had been asked to tutor the Turo boy for the next couple of weeks and try to help him get his grades back up. She has a good transcript, between her high grades, voluntary service and battle abilities, but she is hardly the best student in the Academy.

That title would go to Penny, but the girl quickly deadpanned a strict negative, with no room for discussion. The responsibility would, then, fall upon Nemona, but they have a notorious rivalry, one that seems to have culminated with him throwing a chair out of the window. Director Clavell’s third option is Juliana herself, and she could not think of a good reason to say no fast enough.

To say she was nervous is a severe understatement. Whilst she had never actually met Arven, she had heard about his reputation around the school. She can recognize that the student gossip mill is usually overly-dramatic and highly exaggerated, and would usually strive to give him a chance to show himself on his terms, but, well, Nemona is her friend and it is hard not to take her testimony to heart. Especially considering that they still had not fixed the window through which the chair fell through.

“I take it you’re Juliana?” A voice questioned, breaking her away from her reverie.

She looked up and was met with a single glistering green eye. “Arven?”

He nodded stiffly. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Hi, I’m Juliana.” She said, silently cursing herself for repeating her name when he clearly knew it. “Nice to meet you!”

“Right.” He said, throwing himself in the seat next to her, poignantly refusing to give her the usual pleasantries. “Let’s get this over with.”

“O-kay…” The girl responded, uncomfortable. “Did you bring your homework?”

He picked up a stash of papers and threw them haphazardly on the table with no further words.

“Should we start through History? It’s your worst subject, and it’s a big chunk of your grade at the Humanities Track.” She offers.

“Fine by me.” He deadpanned, cracking the book open.

The pair spent the next couple of hours going through his assigned reading and his last few essays.

Soon enough, Juliana realised why he was so impatient with the whole thing. He was clearly intelligent, perhaps more so than her, in spite of what his grades might suggest. The points he made were actually very convinced and he clearly knew that he was talking about, even if they lacked a certain argumentative refinement and the presentation did not land quite as well. He just needed someone to trim at the edges and they would be golden.

“Arven, I’m sorry. Can I be honest with you?” She interrupts him suddenly.

The blond glares at her. “If you must.”

“I just think that us being here, doing what we’ve being doing, is a huge waste of time.” The girl declared, straight.

He scoffs, bitterly and derisively. “Giving up already? So much for being an exemplar student.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She counters defensively. “I just don’t think that you need remedial classes, strictly speaking.”

Arven looks over at his tutor, encouraging to elaborate on her point through an interest he had not displayed at all so far, but not bothering to express it in proper words.

Juliana picks up one of his assignments. “Look at this, for instance. It’s your paper on food habits in Southern Hoenn. It’s, honestly, great. You know exactly what you’re talking about, there are a lot of sources and the content is great.”

“Of course, it’s great. Raifort is just being a…” He stops short of a curse word, mindful of the company. “She’s just being unreasonably exigent.”

“Well, not quite.” The girl counters, earning her a glare. “I mean it when I say that it’s good, but it’s not perfect. The way that you’ve structured the essay lost you all these marks. It’s confusing, messy, all over the place. If you just move some stuff around and focus on a few arguments, it’s a solid A-work.”

He hummed. “So, I just need to write it better?”

“Exactly! We’ll just go through that until your exam and then you’ll be fine.”

A few thoughts pass through his expression, until he finally settles on a, “Okay. I guess it works for me.”

From then on, Arven was much more receptive to her criticism and her gentle lecturing, letting up of the attitude. Eventually, they even managed to laugh together.

*_*_*_*_*

Juliana is, once again, sitting in the same lecture hall waiting for Arven to show up.

She had been tutoring him every day for the past three weeks, helping him refine and correct his academic writing style and, this morning, he had his remedial exam.

As these things go between them, the girl is much more anxious about the results than her tutee, who went in as if it was no skin off his back. She is going crazy waiting to find out how he did so, when the door shut behind him and she heard his feet on the stairs, she jumped out of her body.

He had a wide smile in his face, and it made her immediately perk up in return.

“You are amazing!” The blond boy exclaimed as he picked her up and hugged her.

Her eyes closed at the feeling of his arms wrapped around Juliana, along his characteristic smell of sugar and spice. Over the past few weeks, she had gradually developed a bit of a crush on him.

“How did you do?” She asks as he loosens his hold.

He holds up the marked paper. “A B+! I’m free!”

She gasps. “Arven, that’s great! I told you that you could do it!”

“Of course, I could do it!” He smirked, self-confident, which earned him a withering glare. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Thank you for all your help, I know that I wouldn’t be able to do this without you pointing out my many, many mistakes to me.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled in return.

“Who would have thought it only took the most well-behaved girl in school to do it?” He mused.

“Wait, what?” She asked, his comment throwing her off. “I’m not the most well-behaved.”

“Oh, come on, Juli! You’re never at any of the parties, you’re always hanging around the school attending every class and, as far as I know, you don’t run an underground racketeering ring like your friend Penny. You’re a complete goody-two-shoes” He teased with a scoff.

Juliana opened her mouth to counter his statements but quickly stopped when she realised that all of the points that he made were correct. His mouth had quirked up into a small smirk when he saw that she had no room to argue and he walked towards her, throwing himself in the seat next to her and leaning over.

“And I bet you’ve never kissed anyone.” He declared, smug.

She inhaled a bit too much air at his comment and coughed, dropping her pen when her body jolted. Cursing under her breath, she leant down to pick it up, gasping again when she felt his hand brush against her own slightly. When she sat back up, she realised that her glasses had slipped down slightly when she leant down and her hand reached up to push them back into their proper position.

As her hand lifted, his own came out to lightly grab her wrist, halting her movements.

“Are you ready?” He asked, confusing her.

“Ready for…?”

Her words were cut off by his lip crashing against hers.

His lips were soft as they guided her own in the kiss and when his tongue crept into her mouth, Juliana found that Arven felt like a rich grape juice with a tangy aftertaste. She started to lean over to him, hands tangled in his hair, keeping his lips pressed against her own as their tongues continued to taste each other.

His hands came down to her waist, tugging her towards him until she pressed up against the arm in between their two chairs. This made they break apart, laughing lightly.

“So, I guess I’m wrong.” He declared holding her chin in his hand.

“What about?” The girl asked breathlessly.

“You’re can’t be the most well-behaved if you know how to kiss like that.” He declared, humorously.

The girl smirked back at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Until the sun was down in the horizon, Arven and Juliana stayed in that classroom, behaving badly.

*_*_*_*_*

9th Gen Masterlist

[rustycottoncandy]

I was cutting a paper (literally deviding a post-it into smaller bits), and suddenly thought to myself: “What if Henry's first suicide attempt had succeeded?”

The following [Rant? Reflection?] touches the subject of suicide, so here's a trigger warning.

What if Henry had died at the age of 13?

For a bit of context, Henry's parents, Elizabeth and Frank Davis, never really wanted to have a child. They weren't even looking for a serious relationship and just wanted to have fun, but one party night led to drinking and one thing led to another and our behated Henry was born.

Henry's parents never really loved him, and they barely even tried to be good parents, nor decent partners to each other.

Violence was often present in their house, so much so that you'd think of it as another member of the Davis family. The parents fought often, both against each other and their child, and often times against Samantha (Elizabeth's sister and Henry's aunt), who also resided in the house.

Now, Henry's never been the happiest person to put a foot on Earth, but there was a time where his mental state was even worse than it is nowadays (by 'nowadays', I mean 24-year-old Henry, the one I draw the most). A time during which even getting up from his bed would require too much energy and the kid's hygiene was barely even existent.

Circa 2010, when Henry was around 13 to 14 years old, he endured one of the toughest times of his life. Many events happened within a short span of time and, gathered together, they crushed the boy to his lowest point: Samantha had died scarce months ago (death that, by the way, he had full responsibility of), which had caused the family's situation to get even worse, since now the parents took out on Henry what they couldn't take on his aunt; The boy's group of friends had recently distanced from Henry since they did not consider him a good person at all and were tired of being lied to by him and being forced to do things they didn't want to; his situation at school was not the best and he'd been failing exams and missing school way often than he used to, and, for the cherry on top, he also had to deal with the recent loss of his cat.

Henry couldn't endure the weight of the event that had, and were taking place and he tried to take his own life.

Now, originally, Elizabeth finds him in time and is able to take the kid to the hospital and keep him alive, BUT WHAT IF NOT?

WHAT if she arrived too late? WHAT would be the parents reaction?

Canonically, Elizabeth keeps her child from ending his life, we know that because I just explained it. But why? If she doesn't love him, nor wants to have to take care of a child in the first place, then why did she decide to step in and keep him alive?

Henry's mother didn't save him because she LOVED him, but because deep down, she did CARE about him... To some level, that is. Sure, he was annoying and overly disgusting; a breathing reminder of how she had thrown her whole life away in just one night.

But he was still her child.

She would've killed to not have to endure him and live the life she deserved, but she didn't want him to die. Hating someone's guts doesn't have to mean that you want them dead.

If Henry had succeeded, then Elizabeth, although she wouldn't have been completely destroyed, she WOULD have been affected by the death of her son.

Though she wouldn't have wanted him to be HER son, she did want him to be alive, even if she said otherwise. Therefore, if he died, she wouldn't necessarily feel happy, but rather sad at the fact that she played a part on his decision to take his own life, which would lead her to blame herself too. I think she might even feel pity too, given the fact that he didn't even get to live half of as long as she did.

As for Frank? Unlike Elizabeth, I think he'd be rather indifferent. To him, Henry was both a waste of space and money, so he might even be glad that he's gone now.

HOWEVER, given the impact that his son's death would have on his wife, part of him would wish that he hadn't died, just so he wouldn't have to see Elizabeth in a bad mood. Frank never really cared if he saw her angry (and in fact would even anger her on purpose sometimes, finding it amusing), but seeing her sad's a whole different thing.

Welp I have to go to sleep so this ends here bye!

[helcria]

Body of Years

Summary:

Sayato and his mother Ui have an unlikely reunion during the war.

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

“Stupid Itachi, stupid Sasuke, but the worst of them all is stupid fucking idiot Kabuto pushing me away like this!” A wounded Sayato complained, panting from exhaustion and practically shaking. Kabuto had healed him up somewhat from that nasty fight he had against both Yuno and Haine, but it wasn't nearly enough for him to be in any shape to fight at the moment, and Kabuto was up against some admittedly formidable foes- being Sasuke and Itachi Uchiha. Sayato's face was still red and blotchy from crying earlier during his messy mental breakdown during his own aforementioned skirmish against a sibling duo, mirroring Kabuto’s current struggle. But Sayato hadn't even bothered putting up a fight against Haine, being too upset with himself for hurting Yuno as badly as he did.

“I should go back, fuck what Kabuto said otherwise.” Sayato started walking back towards the cave. “'If you fought in your current state, you'd practically be going on a suicide mission' BIG DEAL! Maybe I WANT to fucking die! He acts like he knows soooooooo much better than me!” Sayato put on a mocking tone trying to imitate Kabuto's voice (poorly) and shoving off Kabuto's concern for him.

“Sayato?” A woman's voice shouted from a distance. “Sayato! Don't run away this time!” It was Ui Mochizuki- Sayato's mother, who had unfortunately been brought back via the Edo Tensei. She was still too far off to hear Sayato's self-loathing (and well, everyone-else-loathing too technically) dialogue, but she could still spot her baby boy from practically a mile away. He wanted to run again. He wasn't ready to face her after everything he had been through, a stark contrast from years before when he had literally kidnapped a kid just for the chance to talk with her again. And yet, here he was, not running. Might as well torch any possible positive image she had of her boy, he thought. A terse “Mom…” Was all he could manage to muster up in response to seeing her again, and stopped in place so she could catch up to him.

She ran up and immediately hugged Sayato. “I missed you so so much… I know that snake-y guy told me to stay away from you but I couldn't help myself, I just wanted to see my boy.” She pulled away from him, finally getting a look at Sayato's face. “Have you been crying?” “Have you been crying?”She asked, immediately wanting to soothe him. Sure, he's very much a grown man now, but that doesn't matter to a mother. He is and always will be her baby boy.

“Earlier. It's a long and messy story. I'm sorry I'm not in the most presentable state to actually get to see you again after all these years mom…” Sayato mustered up an apology, trying to avoid delving into his trainwreck of a life.

“You don't need to apologize, just stay with me and don't run off again, okay? I don't care how you look but I've missed out on over a decade's worth of events in your life and while I'm here I really don't want to miss out on anymore.” Sayato nodded in response to her.

“So, now that I know you're not gonna take off again, do you wanna tell your mom what's been troubling you?”

“I fucked up big time, mom.” Sayato said. “In fact, it's all I practically know how to do. My LIFE has been nothing but trouble, one disaster after the next.” Usually, he hates the idea of being anywhere near this vulnerable to anyone else, but with his mom, it was different.

“Elaborate on that one for me? Are we talking fuck ups like 'I left the pasta in the oven for too long'? Or are we more on terms of like, 'oops, I made some classmates fail the chunin exam because we mixed up our Earth and Heaven scrolls and they weren't able to get the one they needed in time and I feel super guilty about it' level fuck up?” Ui said, being a little too overtly specific on the latter scenario.

“Well… to start things off, I murdered the other two kids in squad when I was young. So maybe just a little bit more serious than either of your scenarios.”

Ui frowned. “Did you have a reason for that…?”

“Some Kiri-nin were gonna kill me, I made a lucky guess they were part of that Bloody Mist stuff and suggested the idea of killing them to try and buy some time for them to escape but things didn't turn out exactly as planned. Those kids were awful to me, and yet I still feel guilty over their murders- but not enough to have told anyone else the truth besides a friend who disappeared on some revenge quest to kill them. She succeeded, but still hasn't come back home after. Not even my boyfrie- I mean, Kabuto, that snake asshole you mentioned earlier, knows the truth. I assume he thinks I outright cold-blooded murdered them, but he knows better than to bring it up with me. Do you still love your murderer of a son?”

The redhead needed a second to absorb all the information Sayato was telling her and then answered his question, posing a question of her own in turn. “Depends. Do you still love your murderer of a mother?”

“Murderer of a mother?”

“Well, I killed an old rival of mine in this war. And I can't say I feel particularly bad about it.”

“Yeah, but you're under the control of a jutsu! You don't have a choice regardless!”… Sayato said, still not realizing Ui's point.

“And you were coerced into yours, soooo… I'd say if your crime makes you bad, then we can just be an evil mother/son duo!” Ui said in a chipper tone, which was oddly jarring given the context of the conversation, but nonetheless it felt like a little bit of weight off Sayato’s shoulders. “Anything else you need to get off your chest?”

“Maybe a little too much, mom. But I don't wanna go on about my life. Don't need to spill all those dirty secrets. There's a lot I wanna ask you. Things I never got the chance to and won't get to again.”

“I'll answer whatever you throw at me. Unless it's something super weird.”

“How did you and dad get together?”

“Well…” Ui began in, elaborating on the intricate lore between her and Shohei's eventual union and all the other juicy bits that went along with it like her rivalry with her recently deceased foe, Meguri, or all the hassle they went through thanks to Sayato's grandpa Kohaku. Sayato gained a better understanding of his mom through everything and can see how much like her he was.

“Is there anything you regret?” Sayato asked her after hearing the tale. “Anything that you'd want to do over again?”

“My biggest regret is not being around longer for you. That's the one thing more than anything else I wish I could fix. I wanted to prove a point that, what, I could contribute to some military force? That I wasn't just another kunoichi-to-housewife statistic and could keep up a career and childrearing simultaneously?”

“I admired that about you though, mom. Your shinobi career might have felt pointless, but the spite you had to keep going when others doubted you is something I wanted to emulate so badly.”

“You really do take after me, don't you? Well, try not to emulate me too much. You’ve already been through so much in this war, try not to get into any more fights unless it’s something you strongly believe in, okay? For me?” Ui playfully ruffled Sayato’s hair before noticing something was off. Her cracked, broken skin was starting to fade away. “Huh…”

“…The Edo Tensei. It got undone… So they haven't killed Kabuto yet.” Sayato felt a bit of relief, even if it was drowning otherwise in a sea of uncertainty. “Mom, I’m sorry I couldn’t have gotten over myself sooner and spent more time with you. I don’t want you to go yet!” Sayato was then promptly pulled into a hug with his mother once more.

“It’s okay, I understand it was hard for you to see me again. The fact I got this much time with you was more than I could’ve asked for. No matter what happens next, just know I’m behind you no matter what you end up doing. You’ve been through so much, and deserved better, and I’m proud of you for thriving through it all regardless. I love you Sayato, always and forever.”

“I love you too mom…” And just like that, Ui’s form vanished and she was gone from the land of the living once again. Sayato sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes, making his way back to the miserable cave, with God knows what awaiting his arrival there.

The sight he saw was not a pretty one though. Itachi was gone, predictably, but there was Sasuke, Jugo, Suigetsu, Anko still passed out on the ground, Kabuto, standing upright but his eyes were closed and… Orochimaru?!

“What the fuck is going on here?” Sayato asked. “Why is HE here? What happened to Kabuto?” Going from losing his mom, to not knowing what’s up with Kabuto, to having to see his manipulative ex again as well, but he was resolved not to have another embarrassing breakdown like he did earlier.

“Aw jeez… Looks like we’re gonna have to catch Kabuto’s little boyfriend up on everything, huh?” Suigetsu said, before Jugo cut in to explain the situation thus far to Sayato.

“Well, you guys go ahead and do whatever you’ve got to do. I’m not tagging along for this one. I’ll be here until Kabuto comes to. Whenever that is.”

“Whatever.” Sasuke shrugged him off, as if in a manner of ‘you weren’t really invited in the first place’ before heading out of the cave. Jugo and Suigetsu followed behind, with Orochimaru sauntering towards him as if to say something before following the others too.

“Whatever it is you’re going to say, I don’t wanna hear it. You’ve done enough damage to everyone here.” Sayato said, glaring at Orochimaru. “By the way, I hope you know that when we were together, I was sleeping with Kabuto too.”

Orochimaru smirked at Sayato’s comments towards him. “My, your feelings have changed from the last time we’ve properly gotten to see each other, haven’t they?”

“Drop dead.”

“Congratulations on your new-found spine, are you going to use that on Kabuto when he comes to or are you going to roll over and fall victim to his manipulations again like you did mine and repeat the patterns you’ve been through before once more?”

“I said I didn’t want to hear anything you said!” Sayato threw a kunai in Orochimaru’s direction, but he dodged it.

“Stop antagonizing him, I thought you were supposed to be coming with us.” Sasuke stepped in to break off the fighting.

“My apologies, Sasuke.” Orochimaru said, everyone in the cave knowing damn well that sorry was the last thing the snake was.

The group soon left after that, leaving just Sayato to himself (at least, as the only conscious person within the cave), to wait there until Kabuto had broken out of the Izanami.

[alasy]

My mom literally got me crying

[foxy-eva]

Preciously Pure

Summary: Things seem to change between Spencer and Reader once she mentions her innocence

Request: hi! I had an idea and thought you might be able to bring it to life. i was watching bridgerton and anthony said to kate “the things i could teach you” and “i will stop because i am a gentleman and you are a lady” and i was thinking a spencer/fem reader fic where she is “innocent” or “inexperienced” and spencer like grapples with wanting her and being a “gentleman” and then in the end they get together? 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut & Fluff

Content Warnings: 18+, minors DNI! Virgin!Reader, heavy kissing, grinding, fingering, handjob, protected penetrative sex, loss of virginity, mentions of drinking alcohol (responsibly)

Word count: 4.8k

Masterlist

Never had I thought that my training to become an FBI Agent would be so much hard work. Besides the physical training and the long nights of studying it also required a lot of my mental capacities. So it was only natural to look for something - or in my case someone - to make it easier. 

Our mutual friend Penelope introduced me to Spencer, who she said would be able to help me prepare for my exams. And yes, having the extraordinary Dr. Spencer Reid help me study was great. However, feeling his hands on my waist and his lips on my mouth every time we met was even better. The textbooks tumbling onto the floor were long forgotten when I crawled into his lap to feel more of him. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” he muttered without showing a sign of actually wanting to stop. “You’re gonna fail your exam.”

I silenced him with another kiss on his lips before whispering, “Worth it” against them. 

It was the fourth time in a row we ended up making out on his couch but never before had his kisses ignited such an unbearable heat inside me. His lips felt hot against mine and for a moment I wasn’t sure if our tongues might melt into one another. His body pressed into mine felt unlike anything I had ever experienced. I craved more of him, I wanted all of him.

As he brushed over the exposed patch of skin on my back, it felt like his fingerprints would burn into my skin. For a moment I lost myself in the fantasy of finding his distinctive markings all over my body in the morning. Contradicting anything I ever had preached to my feminist friends, the touch of a man apparently could change me. There was no way I would be the same after imprinting all of his touches into my memory forever.

His grip on my waist tightened when I slowly started to grind against the bulge in his pants. I gasped into our kiss when I rolled my hips over the hardness in his slacks, feeling the cotton of my panties getting damp. He hummed against my lips and left my mouth to trail kisses down my neck while one of his hands found its way under my shirt. He didn’t know he was the first man to ever make me feel this way and I didn’t want him to. It shouldn’t make a difference anyway.

Little did I know how easy it would be for me to almost fall apart in his lap before he had even touched me where I felt like I was on fire. There was no way of holding back the moans escaping my throat as I ground against him, having me smile when he answered me with the sounds of his own pleasure. 

Spencer’s groans ripped through me like lightning and let a tension grow inside me that begged to be released. He pulled back slightly to look at me with flushed cheeks and blown pupils, his mouth agape for his tongue to wet his lips. Nothing in the world could have stopped me from moving in his lap, the smirk forming on his face spurring me on to chase the sensation of pure bliss. 

That was until the ringing of his phone behind me startled me, having me almost fall out of his lap and bringing me back to the harshness of reality. 

“Ignore that please,” he pleaded. “Keep going, you look so pretty like this.”

I hesitated for a moment and before I could make a decision, the ringing of his cellphone stopped only to be continued by the melody of his landline. He growled and apologized as he reached out to the table to answer his phone. I got off him to sit beside him on the couch instead, listening to the conversation he had with the person on the other line. His Unit Chief was informing him about a new case the BAU had to get to immediately. 

“I’m so sorry but I have to go.”

I nodded at him and smiled even though I wasn’t able to hide my disappointment. It wasn’t even about wanting to finish what we started. It just felt odd being away from Spencer after being so close to him moments before. Ever the gentleman, he took the time to drive me home before heading to Quantico. After I unbuckled my seatbelt he reached over to get a hold of my hand. 

“Are we.. Are you okay?” He wondered. 

“Yes of course. At least I don’t have anyone to distract me from studying for the next few days.” 

He smiled at that, squeezing my hand and leaning over the center console to place a soft kiss on my lips. He pulled back and mumbled, “I would really like to do this again soon. Not…necessarily what we did before… I mean… I just like spending time with you.”

I kissed him once more, whispering against his lips, “I like spending time with you, too.”

We said our goodbyes and promises to stay safe before I exited his car and went to my apartment. 

Despite having him call me every other day while he was away, I still missed him more than I thought possible. The memory of our last night together threatened to make my heart jump out of my chest, so I tried to withdraw myself from those thoughts and focus on my textbooks instead. However, I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting away, so I didn’t hesitate to accept my friends’ invitation to go out with them. 

I was already three drinks in when Spencer texted me that he was back in Virginia and wanted to see me. After checking in with my friends I invited him to join us in our favorite bar and to my surprise he agreed to come. My eyes were glued to the door until he entered about half an hour later. My heart skipped a beat when his eyes met mine and he greeted me with a wave of his hand and a shy smile. 

Walking over to him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. I felt him place a gentle kiss on the top of my head and whisper an almost inaudible “I missed you” into my hair. I pulled back to look at him and quickly kissed his cheek before taking his hand and dragging him over to the table where my friends were deep in a conversation. 

“... F’course you’d say that, you’re a virgin,” Sarah slurred before breaking out in giggles. 

“VIRGO! I’m a virgo,” Lisa corrected her while taking her drink away, “I think you’ve had enough.” 

I didn’t even know how this conversation took this turn and got really uncomfortable when I realized they apparently weren’t done with it. Because as I introduced Spencer to my friends and told him Lisa’s name, she felt the need to clarify, “I’m not a virgin by the way,” to which Spencer only cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink

“Ya sure?” Sarah teased. 

“Does this,” Lisa paused and gestured at her revealing dress, “look like something a virgin would wear?”

Usually I would let something like that slide since I was aware that they didn’t know any better, but the alcohol running through my veins seemed to compromise my usual filter. So I rolled my eyes at them as I said, “Virginity is just a social construct to uphold the patriarchy. It doesn’t determine a woman’s worth nor will having my sexual debut change the way I look or dress.” 

Multiple pairs of wide eyes and raised eyebrows - including Spencer’s - met my stare as I realized what exactly I had just said.

“You know, if I hadn’t just met this handsome man sitting by your side I would think that by the way you worded that… you were a virgin yourself.“ Lisa snickered. 

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I downed my drink and felt my heart beat so loud it was hard to hear anything else. I hated the fact that despite believing in what I had just said, the thought of anyone knowing about me being a virgin made me incredibly uncomfortable. I felt Spencer’s hand on my arm and realized that the conversation had already moved on, helping me relax a little. 

The look he gave me could only be described as concerned, leaving no doubt that he now knew what I had been trying to conceal. I faked the best smile I could to show him that I was fine but I could tell that he wasn’t easily deceived. Nonetheless he smiled back at me before turning to my friends to engage in the conversation. 

He started to share random facts with us in the same rambling manner I appreciated so much. The uncomfortable moment had long passed and I was back to remembering why this man was so dear to me. 

“Oh my, you look like one of those cartoon characters with hearts in their eyes when you look at Spencer like that,” Sarah giggled when she caught me staring at him. 

I started to laugh and Spencer chimed in with his own chuckles when he got a glimpse of the look on my face. Maybe I should have been embarrassed by my obvious display of affection for him, but I wasn’t. That was something I actually wanted him to know. 

After driving me home he walked me to the door of my apartment to make sure I got in safely. When my nosy neighbor opened her door the second I wanted to kiss him, I invited Spencer inside instead. He tenderly kissed me after closing the door, his hands cupping my face as his lips brushed over mine. The ethanol in my breath seemed to cause him to hold back, his touches being feather-light and pure. 

I’m not sure what I wanted to prove to Spencer - or myself - when I pushed him against a wall and practically tore my shirt off before he could even react. Right before my lips could crash against his, he seemed to grasp what was happening, placing his palms on my bare shoulders and pushing me off him. 

“What are you doing?” He asked as if it hadn’t been obvious. 

Although his eyes stayed glued to my face, I suddenly felt very naked and crossed my arms over my bra in an attempt to shield my body from his sight and my heart from his rejection. 

“Is it because I’m not experienced enough for you?” 

My words sounded harsher than I had intended. The way his facial features were tensed up made me think he was angry at me but his words were soft and comforting when he said, “No, it’s because you’re not sober enough.” 

“Oh.”

As much as I hated to admit it, that actually made sense. I was in control of my alcohol intake but I couldn’t deny that a part of my rational side may have been compromised a little. When he handed me my shirt there was no sign of anger visible in his expression anymore, instead I couldn’t find anything but affection in his look. He cared about me and didn’t want to do anything I might regret in the morning. 

After I put my shirt back on he wrapped his arms around me, kissed my forehead and said his goodbyes. Before he could open the door to step outside, I grabbed his arm and said, “Would you like to stay?”

He flashed me a smirk, stepped closer to me and traced my jaw with his thumb as he whispered, “Yes, I would like that. But only if you keep things decent.”

“I promise I’ll behave, sir.”

Even though he must have caught onto the playfulness in my tone, I noticed his eyes turning a shade darker when he grasped what I had said and it took him a split of a second to get his composure back. I took a mental note about that to maybe bring it up in a different context another time. He ran downstairs to get the travel bag from his car while I was taking a quick shower before bed. 

After getting ready to go to sleep, Spencer joined me in bed and I couldn’t help but make a comment about how adorable he looked in his checkered pajama pants. The way he pulled me into his embrace and held me close to his body felt so domestic and I wondered how I would ever be able to go to sleep alone after this. We shared sweet kisses before I turned off the lamp on my nightstand and nestled my face against his chest. 

I noticed all the harbingers of Spencer’s impending slumber while I couldn’t stop smiling to myself. My heart wouldn’t stop skipping beats while his slowed down, thumping steadily against my cheek. His fingers twitched against my back and his breathing evened out as he relaxed and drifted off. Tilting my head, I brushed my lips over the stubble of his jaw and whispered almost inaudibly, “I really like you, Spencer Reid.” He was too far gone to answer me but I thought I might have heard him hum in response. 

I was awoken by tender fingertips dancing over the skin of my arms and soft lips meeting my cheek. It took me a while to realize that I had not still been dreaming when I opened my eyes and saw Spencer smiling at me. He kissed me briefly and leaned back to look at me once more. 

“I could get used to that,” I admitted. 

“Yeah? Me too. Unfortunately I need to head out now to run some errands.”

“Okay. Maybe I could come over tonight? We could… study?” Knowing that Spencer was aware of me being a virgin now made what I said sound unintentionally suggestive, causing his cheeks to suddenly take on a lovely shade of pink. Regardless of my innuendo he agreed to see me later. 

It almost felt like routine when I went over to his place and ended up with his lips against mine on his couch as my textbooks tumbled to the floor. Unlike the last time, his kisses weren’t demanding but demure, as if he tried to hold himself back. What once was a sneaky hand under my shirt only dared to touch me on more innocent parts of my body. 

However, every fiber of my being longed to chase the exhilarating sensation I was experiencing the last time I was in this exact place. Eagerly I climbed into his lap and deepened the kiss as my fingers intertwined with the curls on the nape of his neck. Still, I could feel him being reluctant, even when I started to moan against his lips. 

I shifted in his lap, not allowing any distance between us as I brought my core closer to the hardness straining against his slacks. Instead of spurring me on, his hands flew to my hips to hinder them from moving. Turning his head to stop me from kissing him he said, “We should slow down.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m ready. I want you, Spencer.” 

In an attempt to continue what we were doing, I kissed along his jaw for a second before he placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed my body back. He motioned for me to get off his lap and I obeyed, feeling defeated by his rejection.

“Y/N…”

His voice was soothing but it couldn’t stop the anger boiling in my chest. I didn’t even dare to look at him when I snarled, “You wouldn’t have stopped the last time we were together like this. Why does me being a virgin make such a difference to you? Do you not want me anymore?”

He got up from the couch and startled me with the harshness with which he said, “You have no idea how much I want you!”

“Then why are we even having this conversation?”

“I just… can’t. You’re… I’m… not good enough for you! I really like you but… You deserve someone better for your first time.”

The ignorance of his statement made me laugh and Spencer flashed me a confused look. The fact that he thought that he was not worthy of my affection was absurd to me. He was the greatest man I had ever spent time with and he wasn’t even aware. I got up and walked over to him to explain, “Whenever I was getting close to someone before I met you, I got scared that they would hurt me. I don’t have this feeling with you. You are a good person and I couldn’t wish for anyone better. I trust you, Spencer.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

I reached out my hand to touch his shoulder but he flinched away, averting his eyes to the floor. 

“Why not?” I wanted to know. 

“Because Y/N! I have wanted to be with you since I saw you for the first time. And now that I know about you being innocent … I want you even more. You have no idea about the things I want to do to you… with you… And I would really like to think that I am a good person but this just proves what a pathetic excuse of a man I actually am.”

With glistening eyes he looked at me as if he was searching for any sign of disgust in my face, only there was none. I smiled at him instead and reached out my hands again. He let me touch him this time, leaning into my touch as I brushed my thumbs over his cheeks as if to wipe away tears that had yet to fall. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that I think you are a good man, Spencer. I want it to be you, I really do. Please…Teach me.”

It was as if whatever restrained him snapped as his lips crashed against mine in a messy kiss. His hands gripped my waist and he walked me over to his bedroom without ever breaking the contact of our mouths. When we stood at his bedside, he pulled the hem of my shirt upwards, exposing my upper body as he let his hands run up and down my sides. My skin broke out in goosebumps wherever his fingers would meet my skin. 

He stopped kissing me for a moment to pull my shirt over my head but his mouth was on me before I could even protest. Nervously my fingers fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt, unable to undo them fast enough for my liking. Spencer apparently took pity in me and helped me rid him of his shirt. Laying down on the mattress, he positioned himself on top of me to continue his actions. There was no way to tell apart where his lips began and mine ended, with our kiss growing hungrier every second passing. 

As he left my mouth to trail kisses down my throat, I reached behind my back to unclasp my bra. Before I removed it completely I hesitated for a moment. Spencer noticed and leaned back to be able to look at my face. With a racing heart and flushed cheeks I shyly smiled at him. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“No, it’s just… This is the furthest I ever got before,” I sincerely told him. 

“God, you’re so fucking pure,” he groaned before kissing me once more while he helped me get rid of my bra. 

His mouth was back on my neck again, nipping on the sensitive skin below my ear while one of his hands found my breast, kneading it gently. Hooking my legs around his waist, I pulled him even further into my body until I could feel his erection pressed against my core. Unfazed by the layers of fabric still separating us, I started rocking against him until I couldn’t stop the moans rolling over my lips. 

Spencer denied me the much needed friction for a moment to sit up on the bed and pull down my pants. I could already feel a familiar dampness in the crotch of my panties, so it was no surprise for me to notice Spencer's eyes glued there when he saw the wet spot on the cotton. His fingertips danced along the inside of my thighs, teasing me without granting me what I actually wanted. 

The grin on his face revealed that he was doing that on purpose. All I wanted in that moment was to do the same, to make him feel the way he made me. I wanted him to feel like he was burning for my touch just the way I did. So despite my lack of experience, I got a burst of confidence and sat up, ignored the surprised look on Spencer’s face when I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back on the bed so I could be the one on top. 

I was aware that he could have easily resisted me but he didn’t. Instead he smiled at me as I hovered over him, curious what I was about to do. Without a second thought I kissed his lips only to leave them soon after to cover his neck with open mouthed kisses. I could feel his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed down a moan. I let my hip rest against his, with one of his thighs between my legs. When I started to involuntarily rock against it, Spencer’s hand wandered down to the curve of my backside. 

He grabbed the soft flesh harder than I had anticipated and I whimpered against his skin, making him chuckle. I kissed down his chest and his belly as I could feel his muscles tense under each of my touches. When I reached the waistband of his pants, I placed a kiss there as well and sat up to kneel beside his hips. Spencer let his eyes roam over my body, followed by his hand as it brushed over my side until it found my breast. I sighed when he let his thumb rub over the hardened peak. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he purred, followed by a surprised ,”Fuck” when I started to palm the bulge in his pants. 

His reaction made me giggle and spurred me further on, so I undid his slacks and rid him of the remaining pieces of clothing. Just like he did before, I let my fingertips wander over his inner thighs ever so slightly, noticing how his cock twitched when I got closer to it. I was mesmerized by the beauty of the man in front of me and couldn’t decide whether to look at his face or his body. I laid back down beside him, kissing him eagerly while one of my hands kept exploring his body. 

Tentatively I let my fingers meet his hardness and was surprised how velvety the skin felt. When I got to his tip I could feel his precum already leaking and spread it with a swipe of my thumb, having Spencer moan into our kiss. Wrapping my hand around him, I started to move it up and down his length. 

“Is that alright?” I wanted to know. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “You could tighten your grip if you want.”

Doing as he said, I elicited the sweet sounds of his pleasure from his throat and felt like I was getting drunk on them. After a few moments he took my hand and removed it from his erection, having me grumble in protest. With his hand on my hip he turned me on my back. 

“My turn,” he purred as he pulled down my panties, by now completely soaked by my arousal. 

When he let his fingers run through my folds, my thighs started to tremble instantly. I might have been embarrassed by my intense reaction to his touch if my mind wasn’t clouded by the pleasure already. With all the built-up tension in my body I already knew it wouldn’t take much for me to fall apart. As he drew tight circles around the bud of my center while kissing my neck, I couldn’t help but rock my hips against his hand. 

I expected there to be more resistance of my body when he finally dipped one of his fingers into my waiting heat, but there was hardly any. Gladly I welcomed his intrusions and rewarded him with my sighs and whimpers as he worked his digit inside me. He gave me a few moments before addings a second one while applying pressure to my most sensitive spot with the heel of his palm. 

It only took a few more moments for me to let go and lose myself completely. He kissed me and smiled against my lips as my core pulsated around his fingers. Removing his hand, he started to pepper my face with little kisses, making me giggle. 

“Are you okay?” He wanted to know. I nodded and he added, “Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to.” 

“Yes I want to. I want all of you, Spencer.” 

Luckily it didn’t need more to convince him, having him instantly reach over to his nightstand for a condom. He put it on and positioned himself between my legs, taking in the sight in front of him for a second before he spit in his palm and coated his cock with it. Positioning himself at my entrance, he leaned over me and I couldn’t help but tense up a little. 

“You need to relax. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, not daring to push into me yet. 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I hooked my legs around Spencer’s body. When I opened my eyes again he looked at me with the utmost adoration in his face. With my hand in the nape of his neck I pulled him down for a kiss as I muttered, “I’m ready,” against his lips. 

Slowly he entered me, giving me the chance to adjust to the intrusion one inch at a time. I looked down between our bodies to watch him disappear inside of me and was amazed by the fact that my body made room for him as if it was everything it had been waiting for. Who knew, maybe it was. 

“Does it hurt?” Spencer asked. 

I thought about it for a second and shook my head. It was a novel sensation for me to be filled out like that but pain was not what I felt. A slight discomfort if anything. But more than that I felt a connection to the man I deeply cared about. I felt pride sharing this moment with him and not having given it away to anyone irrelevant. 

And when he carefully started to move, I felt pleasure. More than I had anticipated. It was not just the sensation of having him inside me, no. Seeing him getting lost in me as I shared my body with him was exciting me more than my own euphoria ever could. 

He accelerated his movements when he was sure I could take it while singing my praise in the form of my name on his lips. The gold in his irises was almost gone with his pupils dilated and dark. Even with his cheeks flushed, skin glistening with sweat and his hair disheveled he still was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. 

I was already so lost in this moment that the sensation of his hand reaching between our bodies to press his thumb against my bundle of nerves almost shocked me. He sat up slightly to give himself better access as he tried to bring me closer to another high. 

“Come for me, please.”

And how could I ever refuse him that? I let myself come undone at his ministrations once more. As soon as he noticed, he let go himself, collapsing on top of me as he twitched in sync with my pulsating core. With his face buried in the crook of my neck, he planted sweet kisses on every patch of skin he could reach as he evened out his breathing. 

After disappearing in the bathroom for a moment, he lay back down beside me and pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his body. 

“Everything alright?” He asked. 

“Yes. Everything is more than alright. It’s perfect.” 

With his lips brushing against mine, he mumbled, “You’re perfect.”

He didn’t give me a chance to argue with that as his mouth covered mine, so I just accepted something as a fact: We were perfect for each other. 

Let me know what you think here!

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[gentrychild]

What about an AU where bakugou didnt survive sludge villain?

Bakugou doesn't die because he is killed by the Sludge villain but because as he was making explosion upon explosion, he got too close to a gas line and you can imagine the rest. It's an absolute catastrophe, the whole place is blown up, Izuku wakes up three hours later, the only reason why there weren't other deaths is All Might managing to contain the explosion in the nick of time, and Izuku is perfectly aware that Kacchan died because of him. It's his fault that the bottle was dropped, that the Sludge villain escaped, and Kacchan died because of him.

Izuku leaves his room exactly once in three weeks and it's for Katsuki's funeral. Guilt is eating him alive and he can't reveal the truth to anyone. It lasts until All Might, in his skinny form, visits him. All Might tells him that yes, they both share a part of responsibility for what happened but that doesn't mean they are guilty of it. Bakugou Katsuki died because of the Sludge villain. Taking the blame means absolving the villain of his actions. And All Might, with all his power, didn't manage to save Katsuki. Neither did the other heroes. So maybe Izuku should cut himself some slack.

Izuku halfheartedly trains on his own for the next ten months, alternating between wanting to forget his dream altogether and wanting to be a hero because he has to rectify his screw-up, he has to do something. He goes to the UA entrance exam and completely fails, though he does save Uraraka here. Unfortunately, since he didn't destroy the zero pointer, he gets almost no point. But All Might, who has been getting increasingly more depressed since Bakugou's funeral, saw him. He saw him being paralyzed by fear until he saw that someone needed help, remembered how he tried to save Young Bakugou, and he realizes Something. As soon as Izuku is far away enough from UA, he finds him and tells him that he was wrong to tell him he couldn't be a hero because he doesn't have a quirk. That he has what is needed to be a hero: the need to save people. All Might also tentatively starts to ask him if he would be interested in OFA but he stops because Izuku is obviously not registering anything he's saying. His eyes are dead and he looks like a ghost. So he asks Izuku to think about what he said about him being a hero and plan to talk to him again another day.

Izuku is basically a zombie for a week, until he receives UA rejection letter for the hero course, though he is accepted in Gen Ed, and Inko gently tries to draw his attention until she is holding his face between her hands and telling him that not being a hero isn't the end of the world. Izuku cracks and tells her everything, how he was almost killed by the Sludge villain, how he met All Might and made the bottle fall, how Kacchan died because of him. The only thing he doesn't reveal is All Might's weakened state. Inko is silent for thirty seconds, because you kinda have to take the time to assimilate that your son almost died and thinks he has been a murderer for the past ten months, only to tell him that Katsuki's death is tragic but Katsuki shoulders more blame than Izuku when it comes to it. Izuku is shocked. Inko continues. Katsuki would have been saved if he hadn't kept using his quirk. The heroes could have approached. The place wouldn't have exploded. Many people wouldn't have been injured.

This doesn't absolve Izuku from his guilt, far from it, but it is the start of a revelation. The heroes didn't manage to intervene because a lot of them were so focused on what their quirks couldn't do that they just... waited. (I don't count Backdraft who was trying to tame a fire and Kamui Woods who is literally made of woods or even All Might who couldn't use his quirk at the time.) And he remembers his classmates or even the people he met in UA and he... comes to a realization: most people are absolute morons when it comes to their quirks. He fortuitously meets All Might later and explains to him that yes, he doesn't have a quirk, but thanks to it, he lacks his tunnel vision that most quirk people have. He is clutching his notebook while saying it. For the first time since Katsuki's funeral, there is a spark in his eyes.

+1 The last scene is Nedzu finishing to reunite the files for potential new OFA holders. All Might enters at this moment and asks him to add Midoriya Izuku to the list.

[mackenzielovee]

my girl (part 4) - rafe cameron

a/n: SURPRISE! I wrote a part 4 ;) i had this idea right after i said i was only doing 3 parts - but this really is the final one! I really hope ya'll enjoy. It's a little shorter than the rest! (not my gif)

Summary: Nope sorry you have to read!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, kissing, and test anxiety

Word Count: 4.4k

series masterlist

my writing

Your phone buzzing on your nightstand distracts you get again from cramming for your Chemistry final. The exam happens in two days, yet you feel like it might as well be in two hours with the amount of anxiety you have. It's your second year of college, and boy, it hasn't gotten any easier. Thankfully, your roommate is out for the night so you have your entire dorm to yourself to study.

You lean over and check your phone. Another missed call from your fiancee, Rafe. Beside your phone on your nightstand sits your engagement ring. You stare at it for a moment and swallow your feelings, then move back over to your chemistry textbook. Your phone buzzes again - a voicemail from Rafe this time, which you don't bother to listen to.

Chemistry is your focus tonight. Chemistry is what you need to be studying for, what you need to know inside and out. You throw yourself back into it, shutting off your phone when it buzzes yet again. You need absolutely zero distractions.

About twenty minutes into it, you hear a loud knock on the door. You sigh, figuring your roommate forgot her ID or keys again. You pull open the door and sigh, fully shocked when you find Rafe standing at your door. He's out of breath from running inside from the parking lot, and he looks pissed off.

"Oh, good, you're alive," he snaps, pushing his way into your room before you can even invite him.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him, closing the door so none of your nosy neighbors can listen to yet another argument between the two of you.

Things haven't been good. You're sick of him calling and texting you all the time, him begging you to come home, and constantly asking who you're with when you go out. On top of all of that, your classes this semester are harder than they've ever been, but Rafe never respects when you say you need space and time to study.

"Checking to see if my fucking fiancee is breathing!" he shouts, throwing his hands up in the air, "I mean, shit, Y/N, I called you, like, twenty times."

You glance over to the nightstand at your phone, realizing your ring was over there, too. You know he won't like that.

"I shut my phone off. I really need to study, Rafe," you tell him, but he's not listening.

Instead, he collapses onto your bed and puts his head in his hands, sitting directly on your Chem textbook and notes.

"Oh, my God, what the hell? Get up," you snap at him, walking over and pushing him off so he doesn't ruin your notes or textbook pages.

"It's fucking fine," he replies as he stands, barely glancing at your papers.

"No, it's not. I need this shit to pass my exam-" you hold the wrinkled papers up.

"They're literally fine, Y/N," his voice raises, "Stop being so dramatic."

You take a deep breath before you speak again, knowing whatever comes out will not be very nice. You've really been trying to be patient with him, but it's getting harder and harder.

"I'm not being dramatic, Rafe," you say calmly, "I just really need to study and I need peace and quiet."

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck as he debates what to say next. Neither of you want to start a fight, but you both have a lot of shit to say. His eye catches the shiny object on the nightstand and he looks over, figuring out it's your engagement ring.

"What the fuck?" he gasps, picking it up and holding it out to you, "Since when do you take this off?"

You put your hands on your forehead and sigh, realizing this is going to take up a lot of time that you don't have. And the fact that Rafe drove eight hours on a whim because you didn't pick up his calls all day has made you crazy.

"I cannot do this with you right now," you tell him, stepping toward your Chemistry stuff.

You'll just have to go to the library and study if he's going to be here. There's no way you can get any of your shit done with him bitching about your ring.

"Oh, my bad, when can you do it, then?" he rolls his eyes, "Huh? Can you give me, like, a window of time where you're actually available to talk?"

"Rafe-" you start, but he holds his hand up.

"No, because, I mean, I don't hear from you all day, and I'm fucking worried about you, so I make the long ass drive to come check on my soon-to-be wife, and now I'm the bad guy? Yeah, no, I get it now!" he exclaims.

"Jesus, okay, I have to go," you say, grabbing your backpack from the floor and sliding some slippers on.

"Right, to study," he grumbles.

"Yeah, to study," you snap back, "Just because you didn't go to school doesn't mean you can't at least try to understand!"

You rarely raise your voice at him, so Rafe knows you're mad. He stares at you for a second, deciding if he should acknowledge your comment about him not attending school.

"It's not about whether or not I understand, it's about time management," he lectures, making you roll your eyes, "Don't roll your fucking eyes at me."

"Don't show up at my dorm unannounced!" you yell back.

"I wouldn't have been unannounced if you would answer your goddamn phone!"

You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, then step closer to the door. Rafe walks over to you and grabs your arm, spinning you around. You stare up at him like he's crazy, he's never laid a hand on you like that before.

"Put your ring back on," he demands, holding it out in his hand.

"What the fuck is your problem, Rafe? You think I'm gonna get hit on walking to the damn library? Get a grip," you mutter, trying to yank your arm from his grasp but failing.

"I'm not playing," he tells you, holding the ring up in his other hand.

"Neither am I," you snap, "Let go of me."

He stares at you for another few seconds and then releases you, groaning loudly when he does. He steps away from you and runs his hand through his hair, then sets your ring back down on the nightstand.

"What's going on with us?" he grumbles, sitting down on your bed again.

You start to feel bad as you look at him, so you step closer and set your books down on you desk. You open your mouth to speak, to apologize and return your ring to your finger, when he speaks out again.

"Why didn't you answer the fucking phone when I called?"

You close your mouth quickly, swallowing the words you were about to say. You stare at him for a moment, then you decide that it's just best to tell him the absolute, stone cold truth.

"Because I have shit going on, Rafe. I have a Chem final in two days and I'm not at all prepared, I have other finals and an entire paper due by the end of the week, and I have you up my ass about everything in between and it's just a little overwhelming right now."

He brings his head out of his hands and looks up at you. His expression changes from hurt to angry in about one second, so you brace yourself.

"So what do you want me to do to help you, then?" he asks, his voice agitated. You can tell he's trying to be patient, but he really wants to yell.

"I just need you to give me some space right now," you state.

He nods his head, moving his eyes away from yours and down to the floor.

"Space," he repeats, "You want space."

You nod your head slowly, afraid now to speak. You can't tell what his reaction is about to be, but obviously it isn't going to be a good one.

"So, you ignore my phone calls," he holds up one finger, "You take off your engagement ring," another finger, "And now you want space. Do you think I'm a fucking moron?"

He stands up off the bed, now towering over you. Your hands come up to your face, rubbing your eyes to try and relieve some form of stress.

"God, Rafe, you're making this out to be something it's not-"

"Am I?" he shouts, "Do you want to marry me or not? I mean, I really think that's what this boils down to. Am I what you want, or not?"

His yelling combined with your stress and confusion makes you yell back at him.

"I don't know!"

He steps back, almost like you've hurt him, and stares at you with a look you've never seen before. It's anger, betrayal, confusion, and sadness all rolled into one, heartbroken expression. It makes your stomach turn thinking about the fact that you're hurting him.

"Well, there it is," he says, his voice cracking, "I'll just get out of your way, then."

He leans down and grabs the ring from your nightstand, wrapping his large hand around it and then stepping toward the door.

"Rafe, wait," you say, "Where are you going to go? You can't drive home in the dark."

He doesn't turn around, he can't look at you. Not when you're not sure what you want.

"I'll sleep in the truck," he says, his voice weak and quiet.

"No," you protest, "Rafe, I'm sorry."

He stands there for a few seconds, then turns, and you see the tears in his eyes. One has fallen, and rests on the bottom of his cheek. He wipes it away, but not quick enough.

"Why are you sorry? I'm not what you want anymore," he laughs, but nothing is funny.

Another tear falls and you step forward quickly, reaching up to wipe it away. He closes his eyes under your touch, always loving feeling your skin on his.

"I didn't say that," you say gently, tears welling in your eyes from seeing him like this.

"Just..." he trails off, finally opening his red eyes, "Go ace your Chem final. I'll see you at home in a few days."

He reaches up and grabs your hand, removing it from his cheek. He lays a quick kiss on your knuckles, then closes his eyes again when he lets go of you. Not sure if it's his last time feeling you.

He turns to leave, opening the door up before he turns back to you.

"I love you. I always will."

He doesn't wait for your response, he just closes the door behind him. You turn and look at the nightstand where your ring once sat, wishing to God that it was still there. You want to tun after him, but you know you can't. You two just need some cooling off time, you tell yourself. You'll come back again atfer finals when you get home for Christmas break. He'll hold onto your ring for you, you convince yourself of that.

You can't focus. The next day, you spend all your time in the library, staring at a page in your Chem textbook, and all you can focus on is your empty finger. No pretty ring that reflects every ounce of Rafe's love for you. You check your phone, but all you see is an empty screen. Your wallpaper is a cheesy picture of Rafe holding a wine glass. You took it on your anniversary last year and love everything about it, especially his cheesy grin.

Tears start to form in your eyes, so you do what you have to do. You call him. It rings and rings and rings, then you hear his familiar, raspy voice on his voicemail.

Yo, it's Rafe. Leave a message and I might hit you back.

You close your eyes, those two sentences being the most you've heard from him in almost twenty-four hours.

"Hey," you start your message, "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I really want to talk. Please call me back. Love you, bye."

You sigh and hang up the phone, then look down to your book again. You try and try to focus, but you can't. It just is impossible with everything spinning around your brain. You can still see the look on his face when you said you weren't sure, you can still hear him say 'I love you' right before he left.

And it's all you want to hear again.

You slam your book shut and grab your stuff, then make your way out of the library. Once you get outside, you call Rafe again. You hear the same ringing and the same message from his voicemail, so you leave another.

"Baby, please call me. I'm worried about you. I just want us to talk. Please call. I love you."

You hang up and walk back to your dorm, checking every five seconds to see if he's called you back. You really just want to hear his voice, to apologize, and to be able to focus on Chemistry again. Knowing that Rafe is out there hurting is just too distracting.

You call hm again after you get back to your dorm, giving him about thirty minutes to call back before you try him again. When he doesn't answer, you leave another message.

"Hey," you say, your voice sounding more desperate, "I'm going to call Dad and have him come get me. I'm skipping out on my Chem final. I just want to come home and work things out with you. Call me, please. Love you."

And you mean every word. You sit down on your bed and you remember how Rafe had helped you move in on your first day of freshman year. You remember how he made love to you and how he proposed to you in the parking lot before he left. And you remember all the times he came to visit and you two laid in bed and planned out your whole wedding reception together, laughing and joking about who to invite and who to sit together.

As you sit there and remember it all, remember the kisses and the laughs and the feelings you have when you're with him, you've never been more sure in your life. It's Rafe. It will always be Rafe.

You hear a knock on your dorm room door and hop out of bed, rushing over to it. It's him, you hope. Coming to rescue you, coming to hold you, coming to give you your ring back. You pull open the door with a big smile, only to find your roommate, Alex, standing on the other side.

"Hey," she says, looking confused at why you opened the door like that, "Sorry. I forgot my keys."

You drop your shoulders and nod, moving her out of the way. She leaves the door open as she moves over to her side of the room to search for them. You sit back down on your bed, checking your phone once again. He has to call back eventually.

"You're not ditching your Chemistry final."

You look up and see him, standing in the doorway, staring at you. His eyes are tired, his hair is a mess, and he looks like he's hung over. You don't even want to know where the hell he's been for the past day.

"Rafe," you breathe, hopping up from your bed.

You want to throw your arms around him, hug him, and have you hold him. He stops you when you get close to him, holding out his hand to keep distance between the two of you, which practically breaks your heart in two.

"You're not coming home until you take that test," he repeats, "You've been studying for it and if you don't take it, you fail. So, you're staying. I called your dad."

You frown. This is not how you imagined it. He seems colder somehow.

"Okay," you say, "Fine. But I want us to talk."

Rafe shakes his head, leaning against the doorframe. Alex walks up behind you, whispering she will be back later, and leaves with a quick smile to Rafe.

"I'm giving you your space so you can focus. We'll work on us when you're done with the semester."

He sounds firm, but you know you can win this one. You step forward, so close that he can almost feel your skin on his. Your scent fills the air, and you watch as he swallows his feelings.

"Rafe," you say, your voice soft, "I can't focus on anything knowing that I hurt you. I need to talk about us and figure things out. Please."

"Baby," he sighs, and you know you've won just by the return of your nickname. It's your favorite, which is why he calls you it so often.

"Please," you say, taking his hand. Your fingers wrap through his, pulling him inside.

He groans but enters anyway, both of you knowing that he would do anything for you. The door closes behind him, which you're thankful for. You sit him down on your bed and instantly crawl onto his lap, not caring if that's what he wants or not. That's what you need. Your head buries into his chest and your arms wrap around his neck.

"Baby," he says again, this time with more authority.

You bring your lips up to his neck to soften him up, listening to the small moans that come out of his mouth as you work.

"Rafe," you say against his skin, "I'm so sorry for what I said yesterday."

He hums, so you give him a few more kisses on his neck before you pull back to look at him. He stares at you with soft eyes, and you know you've already won him over. But you still need to say what you need to say.

"Truly, baby. I was wrong. I was angry. You are all I want in this world and I couldn't handle any of this without you. I was acting extremely ungrateful and I'm really, really sorry," you continue, watching him smile sadly at you.

"Well," he smirks, moving his hands from your back down to your butt, "I've always known you're a brat, so."

"Hey," you pretend to pout, but really, you just want a kiss. He gives you a slow, gentle one, one that makes you want to melt into him.

"You are the love of my life," he says, "You could never say anything to make me walk. And I'm sorry for being such a dick yesterday and for not respecting your school. I'm gonna get better. This shit is just hard for me, having you all the way here. I just miss you when I'm home."

You nod, reaching up and brushing his hair away from his eyes with your fingers. Even when he hasn't showered, is in the same clothes as yesterday, hasn't styled his hair or even slept well, he still is the most handsome to you.

"I understand. I'm sorry for being so hard on you," you say, kissing him on the cheek.

He smiles against your lips, bringing his hands up to your face to move you down to his lips.

"Are we okay?" he asks you in between kisses.

You hum against his lips, and he takes that as a yes, so he flips you over and lays down on top of you, kissing you like his life depends on it. He quickly moves down to your neck, his hands going underneath your shirt.

"Oh, my God, I missed you, baby," he tells you as you feel him leaving a hickey on your neck.

"Always marking me up," you laugh at him, feeling him smirk against you, "I missed you, too."

"It killed me not calling you back," he continues against your neck, "But I wanted to do right by you, you know?"

You gasp when he bites you slightly, then laugh when you feel his big grin on your neck.

"That's why I love you the way I do," you say sweetly.

He sits up and looks down at you, smirking widely, "Can you love me like you do right now and then get back to your studying?"

You bite your lip and nod, pulling him back down on top of you.

A little while later, you and Rafe lay naked in your bed, just breathing in the other. Rafe is drawing hearts into the skin on your stomach, leaving little kisses every so often on any inch of skin he could reach with his mouth.

"You need to get back to studying," he says, but doesn't stop with his kisses.

"Can I have my ring back first?"

He looks up at you with wide eyes, wondering if you really mean it. He didn't want to bring up the ring, just in case you had changed your mind about the engagement.

"You sure?" he asks quietly.

You grab his chin and pull him up to you, stroking his hair as you give him a couple quick kisses.

"I've never been more sure of anything," you tell him.

He nods and kisses you again, then hops off the bed and pulls the ring out of the zipped up pocket of his shorts. He grins at you and then jumps back in bed, of course landing on you when he does.

"This is a twin bed, you ogre. You can't be jumping and shit, there's not enough room for you!" you say as you try to free your left side from underneath him.

He moves and lets you get situated, then holds out the ring. You hold up your left hand for him ti put it on you once again.

"Will you marry me?" he asks, and you would've laughed at him if his voice wasn't so gentle and nervous.

"Of course I will, Rafe Cameron," you tell him, smiling.

He slides your ring back on your finger and you somehow feel more complete, more whole, knowing it's there.

"It's never coming off again," you tell him, meaning it.

He kisses you softly, "No, it's not."

Rafe takes a shower and then hangs out on your bed on his phone later on to keep himself occupied while you study for Chem at your desk. You ask him to quiz you and he does, even though he knows nothing about Chemistry.

It gets late, so you tell him you'll study the rest tomorrow and hope to be prepared the following day for the exam. You put your book and notes on your desk, then slide into bed with Rafe, who you made stay with you tonight. Although it didn't take much convincing.

"I can't believe your dad is just letting you take all this time off," you mumble against his chest.

"Hmm," Rafe hums, so you know you're wrong, "I've kinda been dodging his calls."

"He'll be mad," you tell him, and he nods.

"I don't care, though. I got what I came here for."

You spend all day the next day studying in the library for Chem and writing your paper, while Rafe packs your things for you. He figures it's one less thing for you to worry about, and then you can just come with him after you finish your exam. He had told you he wanted to be the one to bring you, his soon-to-be wife, home.

Rafe waits for you outside your building on exam day. One by one, students file out of the building, and he gets even more anxious every time you aren't one of them. Eventually, he stops pacing and sits down on a bench, praying that you do well.

He sees you emerge from the building with only ten minutes to spare, and jumps up to greet you.

"So?" he asks, his voice hopeful.

"I won't know for a few days," you tell him, "But I'm confident. I felt like I had most of it under control."

He smiles, taking your hand in his and kissing it, "I'm so proud of you, baby."

You smile and thank him, then put your head on his chest in hopes that he'll wrap his arms around you. With the amount of stress you've been under the past few days, all you want is just for him to hold you right now.

"I'm so proud of you," he repeats, swallowing you up in his arms.

You breathe in his scent and relax, knowing that even if you fail every class you ever take for the rest of your life, you will always have a place in the arms of this boy.

After a few minutes, you move to look up at him by resting your chin on his sternum, staring up at him. He smiles down at you, running a hand through your hair as an attempt to calm you down.

"Take me home, Rafe," you tell him quietly, and he nods.

He reaches down and takes your hand, leading you away from the building. You two go back and grab the remaining items you need to bring home, the rest Rafe already packed in the truck, and then go out to the parking lot to head home.

You feel relieved, ready to spend some quality time with Rafe and really make sure to work on things so that nothing ever gets bad between the two of you again.

He puts you into the truck and closes your door, then hops into the driver's side. He reaches over and takes your hand, staring at the ring on your finger and smiling softly.

"Let's just elope and get it over with," he looks up at you, already laughing because he knows you'll never agree.

"Yeah, I'm glad our wedding is something you just wanna get over with," you roll your eyes, but can't help your smile.

"You know what I mean," Rafe groans, "We don't need all the bullshit and the drama. I just need you. And a minister."

You laugh at him and nod, understanding what he means. He looks down at your hand in his, at the diamond on your finger, and so do you. You honestly can't remember why you took it off, you just know you never will again.

"A small wedding it is," you whisper.

He leans over and gives you a kiss. Then another. Then another. He pulls away and starts the truck, then looks back over a you.

"Baby, I'll do whatever you want."

That sentence combined with the cheesy smile he gives you afterward is what convinces you that, no matter what, Rafe will always be yours, and you will always be his.

Tags: @cmrxac

[be11atrixthestrange]

Constellations

Have some romione thirst for the IWSC! :).

Theme: Write about a character not understanding their relationship with someone.

Mandatory Prompt: [Physical appearance] Freckles

Additional Prompt: [Dialogue tag] Stutter

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Constellations

"Am I pushing too hard?"

"You're fine."

A warm glow from the fireplace cast a flickering light toward the two fifth-years, their whispers barely audible over the crackling flames.

"You're sure I'm not hurting you?"

"No. It feels pretty good, actually."

Hermione ran her finger over Ron's arm and smiled when his hair stood on end in response to her touch. "Are you cold?" she asked.

"No."

"Then why do you have goosebumps?"

"I dunno."

With a roll of her eyes, she removed the tip of her quill from Ron's arm. "There. All done."

Hermione had drawn a series of lines to connect seven freckles on Ron's forearm in the shape of a geometric spoon. Ron's ears tinted pink as he admired her work.

"Cool," he said. "Mum's going to freak when she sees my tattoo."

"What constellation is it?" she asks.

"The ladle one."

Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow. "The ladle one? Do you mean the big dipper?"

"Yes! That one!"

"Honestly, Ron, that's the easiest one. If you don't even know the big dipper you'll fail the Astronomy exam—"

"Hermione, stop making this about homework."

"Of course it's about homework!" she insisted. "Let me do another one."

"Fine."

Hermione tapped her wand to Ron's forearm and her drawing disappeared. She rattled her quill against her knee to work the ink down, then studied the series of dots on his arm. There were so many to choose from. She could create any constellation from the galaxy of freckles spattered across his skin.

Her fingers traced potential drawings and she couldn't help but notice the firm musculature underneath. Playing Keeper on the Quidditch team had given him more definition, and the extra time spent in the sun had caused some of his freckles to meld together. She wondered if the dots were more defined elsewhere, maybe somewhere with less sun exposure. It might be easier to trace constellations along his shoulders or his back. Did he have freckles on his stomach?

"Stop," hissed Ron as he yanked his arm away. "That tickles!"

"Sorry!" Hermione hadn't realized her hand had been trembling, her fingers stuttering against his skin and sending her feather-light touch into an unpredictable pattern. "I'll draw it now, give your arm back."

"Fine," said Ron as he draped his arm back across her lap. His shoulder came right up to her cheek, tempting her to rest her head on it.

She caught a whiff of his cologne, which momentarily overpowered the ashy smell of the fireplace. He smelled like bourbon aged in a barrel of oak. Not that Hermione knew what bourbon tasted like, but she'd expect it to taste like Ron. Or at least taste how Ron smelled. 

She giggled at the preposterous idea. She didn't want to taste Ron, definitely not. That would be weird.

Bourbon aged in oak might taste quite nice though.

Also, when had he started wearing cologne? Christmas was coming up, and she had been looking for a gift for him. Maybe she should buy him cologne. Was that a normal gift for a friend?

"What's so funny?" asked Ron, his voice low and almost raspy in her ear.

"No-nothing," she stuttered, twirling the quill in her hand. It nearly slipped out of her palm, so she tightened her sweaty fingers around it. "Ready?"

"Yep."

Hermione got to work, connecting freckles with a fresh line of ink. Her hand shook as she drew, which gave her constellation a more artistic look, and she couldn't help but think Ron would look nice with a tattoo. Sure, his mother would hate it, and Hermione generally wasn't a big fan of tattoos, but seeing one on Ron might change her mind about them.

"Hmm. That feels good," said Ron. His arm grew heavy on Hermione's lap as he relaxed, and she became acutely aware of the way his fingers rested against the thin fabric of her pajama pants, just above her knee.

Her stomach dropped and a lump formed in her throat. She wondered if that was what it would feel like to swallow a bezoar. A chill swept through her body and her flesh broke out with goosebumps, despite the warmth of the crackling fire.

"Are you cold? asked Ron, his tone warm and playful as though his words had filtered through a smile, and Hermione didn't have to glance at him to know he was wearing his lopsided grin.

"No."

Maybe she should have said yes, and he would have given her his jumper. Would it have smelled like bourbon aged in oak?

"Then why do you have goosebumps?"

"I-I don't know."

Ron chuckled and rested his head on the back of the sofa. His eyes fluttered shut. It was getting late, and maybe they should head to bed soon, or else they'd risk falling asleep together on the couch.

And that would definitely be weird.

"All done," chirped Hermione. Her voice was louder and squeakier than she'd planned, which caused Ron to jolt his head back up.

He squinted at his arm. "The letter v?"

"Honestly Ron! You of all people should know this one!"

"Why?"

"Because you are one."

Ron sat up a little straighter and slid his arm off of Hermione's lap, leaving an emptiness as though he'd yanked a blanket from her. He cocked his head to the side. "Pisces?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't look anything like a fish."

"Yeah. Well. Welcome to Astronomy."

Ron laughed, a sound so contagious that Hermione joined in, and the pair barely heard the portrait door whoosh open, and footsteps approaching their spot on the sofa. It wasn't until Harry plopped down in an armchair across from them that their laughter subsided.

"What's so funny?" asked Harry, his eyebrows raising above the black rims of his glasses.

"Oh, nothing. Hermione's just drawing constellations on my arm." Ron showed Harry the crooked drawing on his forearm. "It's Pisces."

"Is it?"

"Yep."

Harry looked from Ron's arm to his, then rolled up his sleeve and addressed Hermione. "Can you do me next?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but her throat felt dry. For some reason, imagining Harry's arm draped across her lap made her want to shudder. "N-no!"

The stutter was beginning to bother her, as she was usually so graceful with her words.

"Why not?" asked Harry, his eyes narrowing.

"Because… you don't have freckles."

"So?"

"You can't have constellations without stars."

Harry considered her response, then nodded and rolled his sleeve back down. "Point made. I'm gonna go to bed."

He rose to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, which revealed a pasty white, freckle-free strip of skin above his waistband. There'd be no way to draw constellations there, and the thought of trying made her skin crawl. Sitting so close to Harry, drawing on him — it would be as strange as buying cologne for him for Christmas. Harry was like her brother. And Ron was her friend.

"Coming, mate?" asked Harry, glancing at Ron.

Ron rose to his feet, stretched, and yawned. Hermione's eyes flitted to his freckle-studded waistline, and she wondered what constellations she could find among the grooves of his abdominal muscles. She shook the thought from her head.

"Night, Hermione."

"N-night," she responded, her voice dry and weak. Her stutter matched the pace of her accelerated heartbeat.

Ron and Harry disappeared up the stairs, leaving Hermione on the sofa with her swirling thoughts. The freckles on Ron's arm and the endless patterns she could trace kept surfacing to the forefront of her mind. Why was the memory of his fingers resting on her thigh, his oaky cologne, and the rough whisper of his voice in her ear expanding to fit her brain space, like an Occamy staking a claim?

She shook her head again, as though trying to erase any questionable drawings from an etch-a-sketch. She was probably just anxious about the upcoming Astronomy exam and staying up late to keep studying would help.

Yes, that was it.

Maybe Ron would want to study with her tomorrow night, too. She had a feeling that memorizing constellations would be a bit easier with some help from her friend.