#but also lounge about discussing bigger topics

[truckreincarnation]

questions and theories || yuliya || trial 4.2 || re: avery, attn: germain, esmee

Yea there is. So much going on in here. Of course, some of the revelations that have been revealed have been concerning at best, though it also is much easier to break things down now that she has a vague idea of everyone’s whereabouts. Or at least, to a certain degree.

It doesn’t make things any better though on the other hand, what with the possibility that this may once again, just be another accident. A well-meaning to some degree accident, but one that had also backfired so horribly.

… Ah, that’s a thought. It probably is even humorous for the king by this point, seeing how they all don’t even have to try to murder each other without resulting in someone’s death. Or in this case, two. How utterly infuriating and…

Powerless. No matter how much strength they all would accumulate, it doesn’t change how powerless they all are still here. The irony isn’t lost on her. But she has time to gripe over this later, not while on the trial grounds. There’s no time to waste here, as there’s other things she also wants to discuss briefly.

“If all else, there was something I wanted to address and ask. Even if it’s also quite the stretch. But speaking of the books from the library that have been mentioned, I want to bring up the books left over in the lounge as well due to the relevance of their topics. 

We’ve established that for a majority of that time, Frank was in there with both Esmée and then Germain respectively. Germain, at any point did you see Frank reading any books while you were reading yourself? I suppose the same question can be extended to you as well, Esmée, though I know you wouldn’t know what Frank may have been doing anytime before 7:30. I suppose that does open the question of what he may have done during that time then.”

A small window of opportunity for… well, not much really. But maybe she’s just trying to think of who may have been reading those books then. It doesn't change the fact that for at least a solid hour, no one can really confirm what Frank may have been doing in the lounge itself.

As for Avery’s questions though, or perhaps speculations, it’s enough to have Yuliya hum a bit to herself in thought. There’s some things to consider here, even if the bigger picture hasn’t entirely formed yet. But it’s enough to get her to start reconsidering a few things if all else.

“Speaking of the third ping, if Shroud confirmed that there was an ‘arcing electrical spark’ from both Frank and Luz, would it also be possible for it to be an electrical shock from the motive? While for Frank I doubt that would be the case considering 3/4th of his alone time has been confirmed to be used up, for Luz it’s still a plausible possibility, considering her’s involves lying about her feelings. I can’t say I’m entirely certain though.”

She pauses here, still brainstorming in her head even as she does not have much else to offer about the explosive information there.

“So far though, I don’t… doubt the theory of it being one of the three that were simply caught in the explosion. Rue did also confirm to us that in the case of an explosion with a high quality barrier, they tend to be ‘explosive’ in return. At least, that was what was clarified.”

[casagear-home]

Beginner’s Guide to Accent Throw Pillows That Will Update Your Living Room or Bedroom with Comfort, Relaxation, and Style!

Introduction - Throw Pillows, Accent Pillows, and Lumbar Pillows!

Hot, fresh, and totally “in” right now, we’re going to discuss a home decor topic that has lots of upside, totally elevating the comfort level in your living room or bedroom with ease! That’s right, accent pillow and decorative throw pillow sets! They have the power to change everything about your sofa set, accent chairs, and even your master or guest bedroom aesthetic. With a simple throw (or five, nobody’s judging!), you can elevate your furniture from plain and functional to unique in aesthetic and highly comfortable, too!

Normally, accent pillows are just a bit bigger than throws, but the truth is, they provide very much the same function and are interchangeable according to your taste. Therefore, we’ll describe them both equally in this post!

There are a million different designs out there and finding the right one for you can certainly be a daunting task. That’s why our team here at Casagear has taken it upon ourselves to highlight some of our favorite designs, the best ways to make your beloved furniture more comfortable, and other tips about lumbar and throw pillows and cleaning them, too! We cover inserts and zippers, tassels and fringe, words, pictures, and designs on the covers, and more!

Consider this your one-stop beginner’s guide to accenting your home decor with fresh, fantastic, and fun throws now and in the future!

How Accent Pillows Elevate Your Living Room or Bedroom Decor

First and foremost, the main purpose of accent pillow set is to bring a splash of style to your sofa, accent chair, or bed set. This could be in the form of bold color, imagery, or text that says something about your personality and taste, or even subtle patterns that elevate the sophistication of the surrounding furniture. Not only that, but mixing and matching them with different looks means that you’ll have even more interior decor options at your disposal!

Now, of course, the other major benefit is the superior comfort that they bring to your favorite lounging furniture. Sure, couches have seat cushions, and you have sleeping pillows on your bed, but throws are meant to be moved around to different positions depending on your needs.

Sitting up in bed watching netflix with a bowl of popcorn? Put one on your lap or behind your back for an extra cozy seating posture!

Lying on the couch and listening to music after a long day? You can grab the handy throw pillow to elevate your head comfortably while you sit.

Not feeling well? You can use the accent pillow to elevate your legs while you lie down and rest. And choosing a soft material like silk, velvet, or microfiber linen can make it all that much more comfortable, while leather or canvas brings a more confident, textured appeal.

All in all, there’s a wide variety of styles options to choose from. We will cover the specifics in greater detail in the section ahead, but they ultimately provide that hint of personality and spice to your decor. So, while there are lots of possibilities when it comes to your choice of accent pillow, they also bring variety right to your rooms, too, making for the perfect pop to revamp any room in your wonderful abode.

Tassels, Fringes, and Prints, Oh My!

Tassels, fringes, and prints; what a sight! Throw and accent pillow sets are the perfect way to add some life to your living room or bedroom. With shapes, sizes, and designs galore, it's hard to pick just one! Nevertheless, we have written this section just for you-- to help you cut through all the noise with our quick guide to the different features you might find on your next Casagear throw pillow.

First, tassels are a playful touch that bring visual texture and a tactile element to your sofa or bed. They come in virtually any color or length--so be sure to consider how you want the look and feel to match up with your room! From small loops and single threads to long strings of many hues, adding tassels is an easy way to liven up your interior decor.

Fringes, on the other hand, serve to bring a touch of elegance with detailed designs that stand out. Whether they're thin or wide-looking, they're always chic-- without a doubt! There's no wrong way when it comes to fringes; so feel free to go bold or subtle for your own personal touch.

Lastly, prints are a blend of artistry and personality, available in all sorts of looks from vivid florals, to simple patterns, to classical paintings, or neutral blended tones-- there is something for everyone. Perfect for mixing and matching for a tasteful look throughout the room-- this is a standout way to make your seating space completely unique.

So whatever you may need, tassels, fringes, or prints, we've got lots of options to let your creativity flow! A great throw makes it so easy to change the look of your decor in an instant.

How to Wash Your Throw / Accent Pillows

It can take an eye for detail and a little extra time to maintain a beautiful house, but with the right setup and a standardized approach, you can make the act of washing your delicate accent and throw pillows or pillow covers a total breeze! Say goodbye to watching your favorite household accessories fade and get ruined in the washing machine, and say hello to easy, breezy, clean delicate linens.

The key to not letting your washing ritual drive you crazy is to not only know the steps, but to be properly prepared for them as well. Just as it is easier to retrieve a pencil from a pencil bag than it is to retrieve from the bottom of a crowded backpack, so too should you set aside space in your home to properly wash and maintain your throws and covers.

Steps - It’s Simple, Really!

Firstly, check whether your pillow has a removable cover or not. If there is a zippered area for the pillow insert, you know that you’ll need to wash the two pieces separately. Notably, the cover will need to be washed more often than the cushion insert.

The second thing to look out for is whether any part of it is dry-clean only. If so, be sure not to get that part wet as it may damage the softness of the inner cushioning.

Now, for the more delicate pieces, it’s best that you hand-wash them so that they don’t get damaged in the washer. For bolder or darker colors, use colder water, and for neutral or light colors, it’s fine to wash in warmer water.

For the final step, the hardest part is over. Always dry your pillows and their covers on a low tumble with low-medium heat. The trick, though, is to take it out just slightly before it’s done drying. This way, you’ll avoid color loss and shrinkage.

All done! Repeat this process every month or so, and you’ll always have a perfectly fresh accent or throw pillow set in your home!

The Lumbar Pillow - Big Comfort in a Small Package

Lumbar pillows, also known as lumbar support cushions, are an excellent way to enhance your posture, reduce back pain, and improve overall comfort. These cushions are designed to fit the contours of your body and provide extra support for your lower back - reducing stress on the spine. Furthermore, they offer additional spine alignment which helps prevent poor posture and can help you maintain good posture throughout the day. Additionally, lumbar pillows can make long periods of sitting more comfortable and may even help to relieve some of the tension from sitting in one position for extended periods of time. With all of these beneficial qualities, it is easy to see why lumbars have become such a popular item.

Handcrafted Masterpieces, Right Here at Casagear!

Today we talked about the wide variety of styles that you can achieve by using accent, lumbar, and throw pillow sets. Additionally, we helped to clarify some of the major differences, provide some buying inspiration, and we even told you all about how to properly wash and maintain them! Now that you’re the expert, we welcome you to check out our massive collection of various bedroom and living room accessories to suit any interior home decor style. Check us out at the following link and start your adventure – DEALS HERE!!

[dokuhebi]

Shikkotsunin asked: ❝ you’re holding on to things that are holding you back. ❞ (maybe the little philosophical talks we chatted about? 8)]

Things that are hard to hear. // @shikkotsunin​ They sit staring down at the most breathtaking view, sequoia trees that reach long branches in to the skies, parted by narrow creeks and riverbanks, splashed in the colour of the moonlight. The architecture of the estate they are permitted entry inside however, does not pale in comparison. It is just as beautiful, it is just as touched by the moon and dusted in enchantment. The serpent sits like an entity of ethereal nature, almost ghost like in their presence. There, but of another world entirely. Their slender form is elegantly perched on the balconies stone railing, their back resting against the pale rocky pillar. Silken fabrics, which drape fittingly over their svelte figure, runs over their seats ledge like water. Hanging down and taunting the drop below, as it lightly dances in the wind. A similar motion to midnight hair, half of which trails over one shoulder, and falls in to their lap, the other hugging their back and daring to follow the overhanging fabric of their hanfu. The ends of the dressings tail and long sleeves just out of the strands reach.  Golden eyes are set downward, looking at the life that continues below. Watching as the ant sized servants move around with daily living. Viewing each small dot below like the gods might. The Sannin always did prefer people at the greatest distance they could obtain. For everything seemed a little clearer, and a little more perfect, from far away. They share this warm summer night with only one other person, someone who, for better or worse, has given them cause to acknowledge her opinion. To value it. While their eyes are trained on the sight below, their attention is not wavering from Sakura. The serpent may disguise themself as someone more fitting in this place, holding themself with enough bewitchment and pride to be mistaken as nobility - even if they are nothing but a false sage. But they can not help feel she is the true image of this realm. That with her power comes her right to be held highly in this place, that she captures the enchantment of the estate with a feminine figure and cherry blossom hair, only to match the fierceness of the forests around this land with equal, or superior wildness. They don’t always like what she says, they don’t always like what she does. But how they appreciate the fact that she does it all anyway. That there is an unapologetic survival instinct about her. That they too, can feel unjudged in their own shameless acts, of doing what it takes. That when they bare their teeth at her, she has her claws out too. Tonight, is far more peaceful. For even the beasts of this world find a place to rest alongside their fellow predators. They toss comments back and forth, as they impart ideas and concepts to one another. Complex and heavier understandings of the world, and the lack thereof. Riddles and hard questions that, with the single glass of sake seated beside them, seemed possible to answer and solve in this moment. For nobody was ever as genius as they were with a touch of liquid confidence in their system, just enough to take the edge off. It is amid this conversation when one of her phrases stands out from the rest. When somewhere along the line, she had evidently spotted their inability to sleep. Insomnia ever apparent, when they are awake during the day, and equally as awake during the night.  “ you’re holding on to things that are holding you back. ” They almost laugh her off. Ignoring the analysis on the basis that, given how very far they had come, they were evidently not being held back. However, with a mind that works as quickly as theirs, they can not help but muse over a few factors that made her comment ring truer than they would like. Because they had clung to the memory of their parents and comrades dying, for so very long they barely know how to engage their own children as a parent should. No matter how much they love the two boys, and hope they both know that, there is a distance they simply can not cross. And ever since Hiruzen had given them his faith and stripped it from them so suddenly, they do find themself going the extra mile. Pushing to always be ahead, to be on top, to have the upper hand, no matter if they genuinely care about the subject and victory or not. 

So instead of laughing her off, instead of banishing the thought they could be falling in to something as taboo as emotional weakness, they try digest it. One of the things they hold on to the tightest, is old teachings. Where anything that proved a shinobi was mentally or emotionally compromised, was seen as something bad. Was frowned upon. Perfect shinobi knew how to distance themselves from their hearts. Knew to put duty before anything. Born in the First War, and ending young adulthood in the Second and Third, gave them a deep set mentality that observations such as mental ailments was a negative matter. And to reveal a weakness was a terribly risky affair. Blood in shark infested waters. “I think matters of the past hang more to me, than I hang on to them.” A simple way of saying, they would let them go if they could. But a little too proud to speak quite so blatantly as that. Because how very pathetic it would be, for someone like them to admit there was one wound they could not simply shed away. That no matter how they flaunt their powers, how they are reborn in new hosts and bodies... they are not quite as new and pristine as they like. Flesh wounds and age could be left behind, but their consciousness followed on. One part of them is inclined to shut down the conversation. Has already put up a mental wall, blocking out her sound advice and analysis in favor of going back to how things were. Back to poorer coping methods and problematic ideologies. Another part however, the part of them that has matured in over seventy years of living, the part that truly wishes to ascend past mortal capabilities... is growing curious. Because there are still days they feel the reach of darkness, insanity pulling at the logic in their mind. Where they move their feet but can not predict the floors, where they hear words and distort them, when they feed thoughts that cause nothing but chaos in their own head. It is then, a desperate part that wants proof, proof that maybe they do not have to be nothing more than a genetic slave. Proof that there is a little more to people than the biology that had failed their needs on countless occasions. Or that if there isn’t more to them, even that invisible link of consciousness can be controlled. Because they wanted to control their own thoughts for once, they wanted to play god with their own emotions and moods, they wanted to feel truly at ease. They want to be above the life they had lead, and to scrub away the past. But maybe that too is cowardly. Maybe that isn’t what Sakura would, in her professional opinion, think was wise either. That there should be a healthy middle ground, rather than either being held down by those feelings, or finding a way to simply erase and obliterate them without ever truly working through it. “I would find it hard to believe you have escaped your past,” they say, approaching the subject in a round about manner, shifting focus on to others, “our very cells hold on to our unique histories and upbringing, from as early a stage as when we are still in the womb. Locking in and coding us based on the environment we interact with, and the emotions we are greeted by. I suppose, some things simply can not be fixed after a while. Akin to an injury, if not addressed correctly the first time, it will simply heal wrong. That can not be corrected later on, the period to halt the development of a scar, or an eternal weak point, can be missed. And it is impossible to go through life without earning a few of these wounds.” But they can not shift their own focus, even if they briefly travel the low road of redirecting attention to an ‘everyone’ conversation, and deviating from the possibility of this being specifically about ‘them’. And they almost let themself off the hook, until they can not shake their own curiosity. Because although they know the difference between a healthy and unhealthy mind set, they also lead themself to believe that is was inevitable. That as they had brazenly mentioned, this impairment was something to be lived with, something to accept and work around.  Yet she speaks as if there is some solution, or at least a way to better handle it. Alleviate the strain caused by the issue. When they had thought all these years, that merely handling it at all, be it well or poorly, was the success. So after a moment of consideration, they dare to ask a question that feels a little bit like baring their neck, but will not be silenced when they hold knowledge higher than even self preservation. Seeking the opinion of someone who had actually dabbled in the science of the mind. “Am I not meant to feel this way?”

[bakudekushimasimp]

Pairings: katsuki bagukouxy/nxkirishima

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, threesome, vaginal sex, anal, DP, mild degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it, before you tap it), oral

Summary: you walk into their dorm while they’re comparing sizes 👀

*A/N: yes they are in a dorm but they are also aged up, however old reader thinks is appropriate for people to have sex at, I don’t see grown men comparing sizes so of course they’re still younger. (I’m thinking around 18) can be older! It’s all up to the reader!

Mina and you are walking down the hallway about to turn in for the night, discussing improving your quirks and how your internships have been going. Everyone was either already in their dorms, washing up, or chatting it up in the lounge area. You both pass by the boys restroom as Todoroki steps out in only a towel hanging on his hips. Mina, being the overly confident one, praises him for his fit figure and tells him she might need his ice quirk with how hot he’s made it in the hallway and it wasn’t because his fire quirk. Shouto’s cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as he slips past you two and crosses the hall to his dorm. You both continue walking as you both giggle at his cute reaction. Mina then decides to bring up the topic of who the cutest boy was in your class. You roll your eyes and look at Mina,

“Mina, we are not 13 anymore.” She only nudges you and laughs. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t thought of any of the guys being insanely attractive, or their quirk just interest you more than others..” You think about it as you watch your feet, and slow down your pace. Now that you thought about it you have been paying more attention to someone than usually. Not being able to take your eyes off them while training. Or in class. A blush creeps across your face and Mina shouts, “See! I knew you had a little crush on SOMEONE!” You jump and quickly tell her to quiet down. You did not want to draw attention to yourself. Before you can say anything Mina turns to you abruptly, “Y/n I totally forgot. Kirishima has my *insert subject* book from class he needed to borrow it to finish up some of his homework do you think you could grab it for me! I need it before tomorrow!” An image of Red Riot smiling flashes across your mind and you start to stutter, “I s-suppose.” She jumps a little and claps her hands. “Thank you y/n” she quickly gives you a hug, your now standing in front of her dorm room door. “I’m going to bed, but you can leave it outside my door I’ll grab it in the morning when I wake up!” You hesitantly smile, hoping that the boys weren’t busy or asleep so you didn’t disturb them over a silly book. Mina retreats into her room, as you turn around to head back towards the boys dorm.

You stand in front of there door hearing muffled voices on the other side. You figure it’s better to get it over with, and since they both seem more than awake you’d just grab the book and go. You take a breath and twist the door knob open.

Your breath catches in your throat and your mouth hangs slightly ajar. Your face turns a fiery red. Both Katsuki and Kirishima stand their with their manhood in their hands. It looked as if they were trying to compare sizes, you only heard a brief “mine is definitely bigger,” before they turnt to the side snapping their heads towards you. You never knew someone could be that big. Kirishima’s cheeks flush and he quickly pulls his shorts up and over his cock only leaving his perfect v line and a red trail to view. Katsuki still holds his and isn’t so quick to move but eventually tucks himself back into his sweatpants. “What are you staring at idiot!” He practically barks at you. “Never seen a dick before?” Your throat is so dry your eyes quickly shift to the floor and you simply croak out, “M-m-Mina sent me to get her book from Kiri.” You see Kirishima tense at your cute nickname you’ve always called him. Katsuki rolls his eyes and grunts plopping onto his bed. “Well.” You look up from your feet and make eye contact with Kiri. He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “I guess I did forget to give that back to her,” he then turns walking to his desk and grabs the book. But before he could make it to you, to hand it to you, Bakugou stops him. “Wait,” you both turn and shift your attention to him. “so you obviously just saw us both just now when you walked in so..” you look down quickly twirling your thumbs around each other. Kirishima shifts back and forth on his feet feeling embarrassed by the whole situation. “Who looks bigger to you.” You stop twirling your thumbs at the same time Kiri stops shifting on his feet. You look up at Katsuki who is now leaned back smirking with both hands behind his head. You can’t help but look at his muscular arms twitch, and your eyes trail to his shirt that is lifted revealing a peek of his toned abs and blonde patch of hair that leads to the monster he was hiding in his sweatpants. You hurry and snap your eyes back up to his face where his smirk has now widened he knows what he’s doing, he licks his bottom lip and brings it under his teeth. His look sends a rush of heat straight to your core, dampening your panties. You then look to Kirishima who’s print is revealing itself in his shorts. He licks his lips, “You don’t have to answer that we all know the answer.” Katsuki sits up breaking his seducing pose and shouts “Oi!” You giggle and they both can’t help but let out a groan at the cute sound leaving your mouth, thinking of how nice your moan must sound. Katsuki’s cock twitches underneath his sweatpants and he stands and walked towards you like a lion prowling on its meal.

“We’ll see about that, Y/n can decide who genuinely has the bigger cock here.”

Kirishima tosses his book to the side and slowly approaches you never breaking eye contact as Katsuki makes sure the door is secured shut. Kiri comes up and gently cups your face and your legs start to tremble. Katsuki comes up behind you pulling his shirt off on the way, and soon enough you are pressed between both guys. Bakugou runs his hands down your arms and over your hips as Kirshima leans in only an inch or so away from your parted lips. Bakugou leans into your ear after places a few sloppy kisses up your neck, “tell us you want this..” your eyes are fixed on Kirishima’s and you can’t believe this is happening. “Y-y-yes.” Bakugou nibbles and your ear and then bites your shoulder leaving a love bite. “Yes what?” Kirishima is searching your eyes waiting for the words his erection raging underneath his shorts, he gently pressed it into your stomach as he is taller than you. “I want this, I want you, both.” You finally manage to get out. Katsuki hums into your skin as he grabs your ass and slides his hands around your thighs feeling all your curves. Kirishima takes the opportunity of your little moan to kiss you letting his tongue slip into your mouth. You both start kissing wildly and passionately as if you’ve both been waiting for this moment. Bakugou’s hand slips into your pants as he continues to leave his marks over your neck and shoulders, he feels just how wet him and his roommate have made you. “Already s’wet for us, you came here wanting to get fucked didn’t you, you little slut.” He pulls his fingers out of your pants covered in your slick and brings it up to where you and Kiri are lustfully exploring one another’s mouths. He pushes his finger in the mix of both of your tongues letting you both have a taste. You let out a whimper as Kirishima groans into your mouth. Katsuki pulls his finger back and takes it into his own mouth sucking in the mix of saliva and juices. “S’good” he groans as he pushes his erection into your ass.

Kirishima pulls away from you a string of saliva drawn between both of your lips. You look at him dazed with hooded eyes. He pulls your shirt over your head as Katsuki unhooks your bra from behind you and they let both pieces of clothing fall to the floor. Katsuki grabs your breast and squeezes tightly, “who knew you were hiding such a sexy body underneath that hero suit of yours, you’re always so shy and bashful but look at you turning into our little whore.” Katsuki slaps one of your breasts causing you to let out a whimper. Kirishima slips his shorts off along with his boxers and pumps himself with his fist watching as Katsuki plays with your hardened peaks. You rub your thighs together trying to give some type of relief to your aching sex. Bakugou makes eye contact with kirishima and it’s like they exchanged words because next thing you know Kiri was sweeping you up and bringing you to the bed. Kirishima lays you on the bed and helps you out of your remaining clothes, while Katsuki is removing his sweatpants and boxers from his godlike body. Kiri crawls between your legs letting your thighs rest on his as he spreads you out in front of him. You bring your hands over your eyes to hide your face and Kiri leans down next to your ear. “I’ve only dreamt of this happening, I can’t believe I can really enjoy you like this y/n. Don’t worry I’ll be gentle.” You remember the length and girth of his member from early and all you can think is of how no matter how gentle he was he’d still tear you open. Your pussy clenches around air, your stomach in a knot.

Katsuki makes his way over to you and stands next to where your head lays on the bed. He strokes himself and reaches out removing one of your hands from your face. “Don’t be shy now.” Kiri takes your other hand and lets it run from his chest to his rock hard abs. You shutter at the feeling sending goosebumps up your body. You look at Bakugou’s stuff erection and watch the precum drips from his tip down his shaft. He lets go of your arm and grabs a fist full of your hair pulling you to the perfect angle. He slaps his member on your cheek, “open.” You look at him through your lashes and open letting your tongue roll out. He wastes no time shoving his cock into your mouth letting his head fall back at the sudden warmth. Kirishima kisses his way down your body to your core, but before ravishing you he doesn’t hesitate to leave some love marks/bites all over the insides of your thighs. You try to refrain from squeezing his head between your legs as he then licks straight up your slit and starts to suck on your swollen clit. You moan letting your eyes roll back, the vibrations around Katsuki’s cock driving him wild. He thrust in and out of your mouth matching your head bobs. Kirishima uses one of his hands to slip a finger into you to prep you for what was to come as his other hand went to work twisting your nipple and palming your soft tit. You were drenching his face as you reached your high, it seemed Bakugou was coming close to his as well. Kirishima added another digit to your cunt and curled his fingers pressing against your sweet spot. Your back arched off the bed and not much longer you were coming unraveled. As your throat opened and you hummed against Katsuki’s cock he took the opportunity to shove his entire length down your throat, thrusting into your face until he exploded forcing you to swallow every drop he gave you. He pulled out of your mouth and tapped you on the face wiping saliva and cum across your cheek. “You liked me fucking your pretty little face didn’t you slut.” You nodded your head yes licking your lips, kirishima came up from devouring you to bring you into another hot steamy kiss both of you tasting you and Katsuki on each others tongues.

Kirishima then rolled you both over pulling you on top of him. Your breast hovering over his face and his cock at your entrance. “Are you ready, y/n?” He then took a nipple into his mouth and sucked gently. You brought a hand up to tangle in his hair, and you stammered out “y-y-yes Kiri, I’m ready” he nipped at your nipple at released it from his mouth. He looked at you to check if there was any doubt in your eyes but all there was was the reflection of lust and desire. He slowly started to push himself into you and you could already feel the stretch. He placed his hands on your hips easing you down gently. There was pain mixed with pleasure. All your wetness from the orgasm made it a little easier. Katsuki was on the bed and had positioned himself behind you. He reached around and cupped one of your breast while the other hand rubbed circles over your clit creating more slick for kirishima to push himself into you. You eased yourself all the way down, letting Kiri bottom out in you. You moaned his name digging your nails into his chest. His quirk activating at the sensation making you moshing even louder as you felt him harden and pulse inside you. He pulled you down into a sloppy kiss. Katsuki took the opportunity to massage your bottom as Kiri started his movements thrusting into you. Suki spit letting it drip down onto your lower back he rubbed his thumb in it dragging it down to your puckered hole. He eased his thumb inside you stretching you. You gasped at the feeling of something penetrating you there. “You like that dirty slut?” He slapped your ass cheek with his other hand. You grinded yourself against Kiri moaning into his mouth. “I’ll show you who’s dick you like more, princess.” With that Kirishima broke the kiss and moved to your neck finding your sweet spot and not moving. Katsuki removed his thumb and ran his length up and down your ass. He eased himself into you giving you time to adjust. He groaned as you sucked him in to your tightness. Kirishima was panting as you had your mouth agape tongue hanging out. Kiri took two fingers and hooked them into your mouth as Bakugou reacted up and grabbed your throat bout of them penetrating you at the same time. The tension in your stomach built as you felt another release coming. Kiri’s thrusts we’re turning sloppy as he starting mumbling to himself. “Fuck…s’tight..you like taking both of us…our little slut..all ours.” Katsuki smirks and slams himself into you causing your back to arch higher. “Look at you bringing Red Riot to his knees.” You tighten around both of their cocks as you reach your release. Kiri squeezes your thighs hard as you clench down on him. You see spots of white as you squirt all over his cock and Katsuki’s balls.

Katsuki pulls out of your ass looking at the gaping mess he’s left you, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to his chest. He grabs your thighs and pulls your body off Kiri holding you as Kirishima gets up on his knees. Bakugou puts you back down on the bed, your knees and arms wobbling as you are on all four. “We’re not done with you yet, princess.” He grabs your hair and slips himself inside your drenched sex. “Fuck.” He moans bottoming himself out. You can feel your stomach bulge as he fills you up. Kiri swipes your hair out of your face and caresses your chin pulling your face up he gives you a lazy smile before licking his bottom lip and pushing himself to your mouth. As Katsuki starts to relentlessly pound into your walls he uses the grip on your hair to help you suck all your wet juices off his friends dick. You gag slightly as he forces your head completely down his length. Tears brim your eyes at the complete euphoria your body is going through. Katsuki shoves your head down several more times before kirishima throws his head back loudly moaning your name. He pulls out and paints his seed across your beautiful face. The sight pushes Bakugou over the edge and he releases his vice grip on your hair to dig his fingertips into your hips, he was sure to leave bruises. He sloppily pumped into you until he pulled out and fisted himself until he released all over your back.

You collapsed onto their bed making sure not to lay your face directly onto anything. Katsuki chest is heaving as he climbs off the bed, kirishima holding you somewhat in his lap. Bakugo grabs a towel and hands it to Kiri for you both to clean up while he cleans himself up. After you all are wiped clean you all lay on the bed. Your whole body is tingling and your mind is spinning. You lay between Dynamight and Red Riot amazed that you of all people just got to experience them both at the same time. You lay on Kiri’s chest as Bakugou rubs circles where he had just spread his seed on you only moments ago. Didn’t take him long to break the after care silence when he clears his throat, “So who do you think was bigger?”I

[watchmegetobsessed]

Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬

special thanks to @pastequeharry​ who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.

Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.

Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.

His lectures and courses are jampacked with sighing and heart-eyed college girls, daydreaming about the man who is solemnly just trying to teach the things he is so passionate about. But it’s not just the students, Professor Styles has managed to charm the female professors of all faculties, you can see them wander by his office way too often, they take any opportunity to talk to the man and try to seduce him. It’s unknown if he is oblivious to the effect he has on women or he chooses to ignore every and any attempts, but this is what leads us to the fourth fact.

Despite all the effort and energy that’s been put into his case by every single woman on campus to break the walls the professor has built around himself, he never let any of his students or colleagues to even think they could be romantically linked for real. Professor Styles keeps his distance and turns down any offer that could be mistaken to anything that doesn’t fit in the professional boundaries.

Anytime a student puts on the slightest flirtatious act towards the professor, he either rejects it straight away or ignores it completely and blatantly, making it his clear answer that he is not interested and then he goes back to teaching. You’ve seen it yourself, having him as one of your professors first year of uni, you fell for him just like every other girl in the lecture hall, dreaming about him in ways you probably shouldn’t think of a teacher while he was just casually talking about his grading system and how he is going to build up the lectures throughout the semester. Some brave girls who you assume were highly celebrated by boys in high school took the courage to openly flirt with him, but he didn’t even flinch before shutting all attempts down, not even a blush appeared on his perfectly cut cheekbones.

You thought of ways you’d try to seduce him yourself, but you never actually tried. You never had the balls to actually give it a go and then suffer from the worst embarrassment of your life when he rejects you. So you kept it all to yourself, only entertaining yourself with your elaborate plans about the seduction of your professor.

Second year passed without any classes with Professor Styles, you had only occasionally seen him come and go, rushing down the hallways holding his notebooks to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand as he was heading to his lecture hall that you just knew was filled with girls. You always took a moment to yourself to admire his outfit. He has a tendency to pair odd items and make them look like the most put together fit ever that only he can pull off. However, you and your girlfriends always loved to tease him between each other for his grandpa-like sweaters and vests he seemed to love dearly.

“He confuses me, because I want him to fuck me on his desk but also, I feel like he is about to ask me what periodt means because he is too old to understand slang these days,” your friend, Nat said once when your little group was lounging under the huge oak tree between classes and the professor rushed past you, disappearing in the building without paying any of you a look. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a striped sweater, a wrinkly grey shirt peeking from under it at the bottom. The colors and the style overall once again gave you that old people feeling, but then you looked at his handsome face and couldn’t care any less about whatever he was wearing.

The most intimate way you ever saw him was a few days after your twenty-first birthday the summer before your last year of uni started. You just got back from your hometown, the first person to arrive back to your shared flat with Nat and Eden, so you had a few days on your own. You decided to redecorate your room so you took a trip to IKEA, taking your time looking through the set up rooms, just wandering around as you try to figure out what you really want to buy. Walking through the living room section you spotted the professor and first, you didn’t even recognize him.

He was wearing a pair of bright yellow shorts and a short sleeved shirt with floral prints on it, a pair of white framed sunglass on top of his head, keeping his unruly strands out of his face as he was eyeing a couch, seemingly deep in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, seeing him in such a casual and everyday setting. For some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.

A woman was there with him and as you walked closer you could hear a fraction of their discussion.

“I don’t know, Gems. Do I need a couch this big?”

“Looks comfy and I like the color. It would also fit in the space just right, I think you should get the bigger one if you have the space for it,” the woman put her two cents in and you wondered who she could be. Girlfriend? Just a casual friend? Maybe fiancé? She did have a ring that could easily go as an engagement ring so you couldn’t tell for sure.

As you were about to walk past you suddenly took the courage to say hi.

“Hello, Professor Styles!” you greeted him with a warm smile and his eyes flickered over to you from the couch in question. One thing you always admired about him is that he never forgot the faces of his students and as he looked at you, you knew he recognized you even if he didn’t know your name specifically.

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

“I like the couch,” you commented before slowly moving on. “Have a nice rest of your summer!”

“You too, Y/N,” he called after you and it took you by surprise that he remembered your name. Your lecture he taught had almost over a hundred students in it and you weren’t the most active one to stand out that easily, yet he still remembered you more than you were expecting.

That small encounter kept you thinking about him for way longer than you probably should have, especially because you knew you’d have a lecture with him again in the upcoming semester. Your daydreams about him made their way back into your mind as you spent the last days of your summer mostly with your friends. It got you thinking that if you managed to get him to remember your name, maybe you would give one of your plans a go and shoot your shot. He wouldn’t be teaching you in your last semester so you wouldn’t have to face him after he rejects you.

And this is how you came up with your little scheme.

On your last Sunday evening before school starts, you, Nat and Eden sit in the floor of your living room, drinking some white wine as a way of saying goodbye to the carefree summer moments and getting back to the working days of being a senior at uni. Professor Styles came up completely randomly and you let it slip that you’ve just seen him recently at IKEA with a woman and it all led to you admitting that you’ll finally shoot your shot at the professor. Nat and Eden both did the same already, however their attempts were completely ignored and they always bugged you to give it a try yourself, being the only one in your group who hasn’t tried to seduce the professor yet.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell me it’s stupid because I actually think it’ll be funny and a little bit genius,” you tell them before you start sharing the details on your plan.

“Just spill the beans already!” Eden pokes you before she reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.

“Okay, so you both know I took this psychology class last semester for extra credits, right?” The nod and you continue. “The teacher told us about this thing called classical conditioning or they call it pavlovian response too. The guy, Pavlov, did an experiment where he paired the feeding of dogs with a bell ring and after a certain amount of time the dogs started salivating at just the sound of the bell, because they remembered that it’s connected to food. The teacher said this is literally one of the easiest tricks to pull on people.”

“Oh, isn’t this one of the things Jim did on Dwight in The Office?” Nat asks furrowing her eyebrows.

“It is!” you nod, glad that they are understanding the base of your plan. “So, I’ve heard that Professor Styles loves strawberry flavored candies. I thought that I would bring some every day when I see him and offer him some. Slowly, he’ll pair the candy with the thought of me and he’ll get excited when he sees me because he’ll think I have candy for him and it will hopefully work the other way around and he’ll think of me when he is eating strawberry flavored candy that’s not from me.”

Your friends blink at you for a moment, processing what you just shared with them before Eden takes a huge sip of her drink.

“This is the most ridiculous but also the most genius thing I’ve ever heard,” she nods holding her glass up towards you.

“I can’t believe you will pull a psychological experiment on Professor Styles,” Nat shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

“It’s not a blunt way to get closer to him and if he accuses me of trying to flirt I can just say that I’ve been only sharing candy with him, I literally did nothing,” you point out, pretty proud of your solution to your deep fear of having to take his rejection publicly.

“If you get a Noble for this shit, make sure to thank us in your speech,” Eden laughs and you promise to do so when the big moment comes.

Monday morning you make a quick trip to Target and buy a big bag of strawberry flavored candies, probably enough to last for the whole semester, and then you make your way to campus. Following your first lecture you meet up with Eden who also signed up for Professor Styles’ lecture this semester, so the two of you make your way towards the lecture hall together.

“I really can’t believe you are doing this,” she chuckles when you get the candy ready as you near the room. The professor is always the first one in the lecture hall so you know you’ll find him there already.

“You can’t tell me it’s not a funny plan,” you smirk at her. And just as you walk in, you immediately spot the professor sitting at the desk at the front, going over the syllabus before the start. “Save a seat for me,” you tell Eden who just laughs and makes her way up the stairs along the desks.

Grabbing the pack of sweets from your bag you walk up to the professor, feeling confident with your plan. He lifts his head up when he notices your arrival and your eyes meet with his green ones.

“Hello, professor. Would you like some candy?” you simply ask with an innocent smile.

Professor Styles stares at you for a moment before his eyes move down to the candy in your hand, the opening of the bag facing him in a welcoming manner.

“I, uhh… what flavor?” he curiously asks and you can barely push down your smirk.

“Strawberry.”

“Oh. I’ll… take one, thank you,” he nods, hand reaching into the bag as he grabs just one single candy, unwrapping the package before he pops it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he nods again with a delightful smile.

“Of course. Did you buy the couch?” you ask, taking slow steps away from the desk as he keeps his eyes on you.

“I… did not. Bought another one,” he admits shortly and you know you’ve reached the limit. If you ask more, he’ll get suspicious, so you just nod smiling before walking up to the spot Eden has reserved for you. When you sit down, you catch the professor paying you one last glance before he returns to what he was previously doing.

“You are a genius, because now we can watch him suck on a fucking candy for the next few minutes,” Eden mumbles quietly, making you laugh.

“I knew this would be a good plan,” you sigh, satisfied with the work you’ve done. Now it’s just a matter of time.

Every Monday and Wednesday, you arrive with the same bag of candy to the lecture hall, walk up to Professor Styles and offer him one. And he always takes one. The first few times he seems hesitant when he spots you approaching him, but he slowly grows used to your tiny act of kindness that occurs every time you see him. On week three you expand the plan. You usually have lunch with Nat on Thursdays since you both have a break between one and two pm. The two of you try to take advantage of the warm early autumn days and sit under the pergola that’s near the building where Professor Styles’ office is as well. It’s mere coincidence, you only like that place because it’s close to the lecture hall you have to go to after lunch, but you notice that the professor emerges from Building C around one thirty, walking back to his office probably after one of his classes. The sidewalk runs directly next to the pergola so it gives you a chance to bring the candy out one more time every week. You nicely greet him when he is nearing the two of you and then hold out the bag, asking if he wants some. He always takes one and thanks you with a sweet smile that leaves you a tad bit blushed.

“I can’t fucking believe your plan is working,” Nat chuckles in disbelief on one occasion when the professor just disappeared in the building, probably happily unwrapping his candy of the day.

“It’s funny, innit?” you grin at her proudly.

Frankly, this is just a fun experiment for you. You don’t actually think that the professor will think of you differently even the slightest. You might be able to plant the thought of you in his head, but that doesn’t instantly mean that he’ll start fancying you and actually do something about it. It would be ridiculously naïve to think it’s going to be you who breaks through the wall that hundreds of women had already tried to knock down.

Week six is what brings the breakthrough. After long consideration and discussion with Nat and Eden, you decide to test if the experiment has been successful. You offer one last candy on Monday, but Wednesday brings the change. You go to lecture without candy. Well, you have it on you, but you decide not to ask him if he wants some.

Walking into the lecture hall, as always, he is already sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a book when you walk up to him with the intention of asking him a question on the paper that’s due next week.

“Professor Styles?” you softly speak up, catching his attention. “Can I have a question about the paper?”

“Of course,” he nods and you can’t tell just yet if he was expecting the candy or not.

“I was wondering if I can use a diagram to visualize my results at the end. I have a brilliant idea to summarize the data with one.”

“Sure, just make sure to give credit wherever it’s due, if you are using someone else’s work for the diagram.”

“Definitely,” you smile at him and wait a moment. That’s where you see the anticipation in his eyes.

His gaze flickers down to your hands and then to your bag where you always carry the candy and when his eyes meet yours again, you see him swallow hard.

He was expecting the candy. Not only expecting, but he started salivating when he saw you, thinking that he would get the candy from you as always.

“Is… that all?” he asks, the slightest hint of hope appearing in his tone, probably waiting for you to pull the bag of candy out of your bag and offer him one. But it’s not happening today.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you nod smiling widely before you turn around and walk away, a shocked and triumphant look appearing on your face once he can’t see it anymore and when Eden sees you, she gasps.

“He fucking expected the candy, didn’t he?!” she whispers at you in shock and you nod frantically, still not believing your plan worked.

“You should have seen the anticipation in his eyes, he really thought I was gonna offer him some!”

“Oh my God, this is hilarious!” Eden laughs covering her mouth as the lecture hall starts to fill up slowly.

Turning forward, you see that the professor is sitting behind his desk, the book that had his attention before your arrival is long forgotten in front of him, now he is staring ahead of him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, deep in his thoughts.

Is he thinking about you? Or why he was expecting candy from you?

You see him reach for his water bottle and he takes two big gulps probably to wash away his need for the candy before he narrows his eyes and at last they find you in the auditorium. You tilt your head to the side innocently smiling, as if you know absolutely nothing about anything. You keep eye-contact, forcing you not to be the one who breaks it and he is intimidating. You feel like he can read your mind as he stares at you and when he finally turns his gaze back at the book, you exhale sharply.

The lecture goes down just as usual and when the professor dismisses the class you decide to put the cherry to the top. Walking down between the desks you grab a candy from your bag and while the professor is talking to a girl who also had a question about the paper, you place the candy to his desk next to his book. He doesn’t see you walk out and you don’t see him when he finds it, but something is telling you he figured you out. No way a man as smart as him doesn’t realize what game you’ve been playing with him.

Sitting under the pergola on Thursday you are deep in discussion with Nat, helping her with a task sheet she has to turn in after lunch but she completely forgot about it. As the two of you are trying to do the seemingly endless sheet, you don’t even notice the professor walking from Building C, as always, but he spots you.

“No, I don’t think that’s even a thing, you can’t write that,” you tell Nat, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t care if it’s a thing, I just want to fill in the whole thing so the teacher doesn’t think I finished it in twenty minutes before class,” she mumbles, scribbling down her answer as you just chuckle at her.

Suddenly, you see a pair of dusty Vans appear in your sight and as your eyes move up, you are facing none other than Professor Styles, standing right in front of you, holding out his hand with his hand turned upwards, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His appearance takes you by surprise and for a moment you just dumbly stare down at his palm, then up at his eyes.

“Very smart. Pulling a pavlovian on me with my favorite candy,” he speaks up, dropping his hand as he cocks his head to the side. Nat looks up from her sheet with wide eyes as you stare at the professor with blushing cheeks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, professor,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Of course. You know, it took me a moment to realize yesterday, but I wanted to let you know that… I think it was clever.”

“If I knew anything about what you’re talking about… I would say thank you. But I stand up for my innocence.”

“Surely,” he chuckles softy. “Have a great rest of your week,” he then nods before turning around to walk away, but you quickly reach into your bag and grab a candy.

“Professor Styles!” you call out and he turns back just in time to catch the candy you throw in his way. He glances at it in his palm before his eyes snap up to you again, smirking at you shortly before he disappears in the building.

“Okay, call me stupid, but I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you,” Nat says as soon as the professor is out of sight.

“Don’t be silly, it was just… a joke and he liked it.”

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

“But you came up with it so you’re clever too. Say whatever you want, but I actually think you have a shot at him.”

“I definitely don’t,” you laugh shaking your head and you genuinely believe it. Nat scoffs before she gets back to her sheet, but not without having one last thought about the situation.

“We’ll be laughing at how you brainwashed him into liking you when you’ll be dating for years, living together and all that shit.”

You’ve made some very questionable choices in your dating life prior. Like when you dated a boy in high school and let him take your virginity at the back of his mom’s minivan just to break up with your right after that, or when you briefly dated the guy you met at the mall, but it later turned out he was gay and he used you as his cover up in front of his family. But the worst decision of all was dating an egoistic forty years old loser who just freshly got divorced and went after you at some tacky bar you were at with your friends.

The time you spent dating Victor is way less than the time he has been bothering you, trying to make you go back to him when you’ve actually told him you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. You broke up with him just before you went home for the summer and he didn’t take it well, even drove up to your hometown and showed up at your parents’ house drunk, begging for you to take him back. He never stood a chance, not after that one time he slapped you across the face during a fight the two of you had. You tolerate a lot of things but not violence and you don’t believe him when he says it was just a onetime thing. There’s no guarantee he won’t hit you ever again and you are definitely not waiting around to see if he told you the truth.

On this particular late October evening you are searching through your whole room looking for a book you know you have, but can’t seem to find anywhere. It’s your holy bible about research methodology and you need it for your thesis work, but it seems like the small apartment has completely swallowed it.

“Didn’t you leave it at Victor’s? You were working on that long essay when you were dating him, saw you use the book all the time,” Eden tells you when you ask her if she’s seen it anywhere and then it clicks.

She is right, now you remember leaving the book at his once and you completely forgot to pick it up after things got nasty between the two of you.

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

Not feeling like calling him, you send him a quick text, hoping he still has it and hasn’t burned it after one of your fights.

Y/N: Hey, I think I left my research methodology book at yours. You still have it?

Victor: I do.

Y/N: Cool, can I drop by to pick it up?

Victor: I’m leaving for work, you can come to the bar if you want it.

You sigh in defeat. Victor is a bartender at a place that’s all the way across town, takes almost an entire hour to get there, but you are left with no other choice.

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

The raining has finally stopped this morning so you feel better leaving the house than you would have if it was still pouring. You take the bus and travel across town, feeling anxious to see Victor again. Last time you met him he cursed you out and threw his phone at you, barely missing your head. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go near him again after that, but it seems like you can never get completely rid of him.

Students rarely come to this part of the town, it’s way too far from campus and has nothing to offer that can’t be found closer to the dormitories or the school’s buildings. It’s not entirely your scene either, the bars around here are liked by older generations, not by people your age, this is another reason why you don’t like coming around here.

The bar where Victor works is a place where they have different local bands perform every Friday and Saturday. It’s not a tacky nook with creepy dudes, they actually have prices on the higher end, not something you can necessarily afford with your part time job’s paycheck from the small accounting office near your apartment where you work as an assistant on your free afternoons.

Walking into the place you immediately spot Victor behind the bar and you take a deep breath before you walk up to him.

“Hey,” you call out for him, taking one of the stools along the bar.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“Happens when you break up with someone,” you respond with a little spice and he frowns at your words. “Can you give me the book?”

“I’ll have a break in ten, can you wait for that or you have something extra urgent shit to do, as always?” You can tell he is still bitter from how things ended between the two of you, but you’ve learned not to care about it. His way of dealing with the breakup is not your responsibility, no matter how hard he is trying to prove it wrong.

You roll your eyes but nod, knowing well there’s no use to fight him. Ten minutes is not the end of the world. Busying yourself on your phone, you try to stay unnoticed and luckily, Victor can’t keep chatting with you, because customers keep coming up to him and ordering drinks. When he finally has his break he tells you to follow him to the back.

“So how have you been?” he asks as you walk down the hallway that leads to the small break room, there’s an office at the end and some kind of changing room you guess for the bands, along with a storage.

“Fine.”

“You really gonna be a bitter bitch and not talk to me?” he asks you, giving you a disgusted look, but you know it’s just the anger talking from him.

“Victor, I didn’t come here to talk, I just need my book!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t answer my question.”

“I answered it! I’ve been fine, now give me the damn book!” you growl, losing your patience with him, but he is seemingly in the same shoes.

“When will you stop being a bitch and just drop this ridiculous act, Y/N? I’ve been after you for months yet you keep ignoring me!”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you? Victor, it’s been months, just… move the fuck on! Go cry to your ex-wife or something, I don’t care!”

You didn’t mean to snap, but he always brings the worst out of you. From the corner of your eyes you can see movement at the other end of the hallway where the changing room is, but you don’t get to pay much attention to it, because the next moment Victor grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! You ungrateful slut, I swear…”

There’s little you can do, he is twice as big as you are, his grip on your arm so strong there’s no doubt it will leave a mark. Your heart is racing as you try to pull yourself out of his hold, but he doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt.

However, before he could drag you into the empty breakroom to do god knows what, he is stopped by a voice.

“Hey! Let her go!”

If you weren’t shocked enough at his violent reaction, now you are definitely think you’re going nuts, because it’s none other than Professor Styles who is now nearing you with a hard expression on his face, two other guys following right behind him and though none of them are bigger than Victor, he knows he can’t just start a fight with three men.

Your chest is heaving when the professor finally reaches you and Victor’s hold lets go of you, making you fall back a little.

“You perform here twice and think you’re some kind of rockstar?” Victor spats at the professor, but you’re a little lost in what’s really going on. Professor Styles gently grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, eyes never leaving Victor’s burning gaze.

“You alright?” one of the other two men asks and you nod, not finding your voice to actually speak.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I call the police on you,” the professor answers in a calm yet threatening voice

Victor takes a second to himself, thinking about the choices he has before he turns around and disappears in the breakroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in complete shock about what just happened.

Professor Styles then turns around, his eyes soften at seeing how shaken you are and quite frankly, you feel like you are in a bad and quite weird dream.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, clearly worried about you and you just shake your head no.

“I-I’m fine, I think,” you mumble out of breath.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the guy who asked if you’re alright suggests and you nod in agreement, following them kind of blindly, the three of them keeping you in their little circle as you walk out to the bar and they don’t stop until you are out of the place in the cold night air. You slowly come back to reality and process that Professor Styles just saved you out of fucking nowhere from your abusive asshole ex. That’s what you call a plot twist.

You finally take a moment to look at the other two guys, they both look the same age as the professor, or maybe a little older, both of them are rocking some facial hair, the one that asked you seems a little more open while the other one quite reserved but friendly looking.

“What… What were you doing back there?” you ask, turning to face the professor. He clearly seems upset, but you’re not sure if it’s entirely because of what happened with Victor back then or because you are standing outside some random bar on a Saturday night, definitely crossing his personal boundaries he keeps so high at school.

“We played here tonight, was just about to leave when I saw you.”

“You have a band?” you ask, shocked at the detail.

“A pretty good one,” the talkative guy chuckles. “I’m Adam, nice to meet you. This is Mitch.”

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

“Y/N is… my student,” the professor adds as if he is clearing the air for his bandmates, a kind of warning for them.

From the direction of the parking lot two women emerge, laughing on something as they walk up to the four of you, both of them eyeing you curiously.

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

“Sarah, Charlotte, this is Y/N, she is my student. Y/N, these are my other band mates, Sarah and Charlotte,” the professor introduces you as you shake hands with them quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends, professor,” you shyly apologize, feeling like a complete intruder all of a sudden with all his bandmates around you.

“Interrupt? Sweetheart, that dude was about to do some unforgivable things to you, don’t apologize for needing help,” Adam snorts. “You’re lucky we were there.”

“What? What happened?” Sarah asks in confusion.

“Just… my asshole ex got a little too violent when I didn’t want to chit-chat with him,” you admit with a defeated sigh.

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile faintly, though you still can feel his grip on your upper arm. “I, um… I better get going, I guess. Thank you for… the saving,” you say, a little lost about what should be said in this situation.

“You’re leaving? We were just about to go to a much better place, why don’t you come with us, forget about your ex a little?” Charlotte offers and you catch the professor’s panicked look for a split second.

“I, um… I don’t think I should, but thank you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

“Because I know how Professor Styles hates to mingle with students outside of lectures and I don’t want to cross any lines,” you truthfully admit. The professor furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t hate mingling with students,” he states.

“Well, you are surely not the most reachable professor on campus,” you chuckle lightly. “But it’s fine, I understand it. So I’ll just head home.”

“Come on, Harry. Let her tag along for just one drink!” Sarah begs and seemingly everyone would be happy to have you join for a little. The professor’s eyes meet yours, as if he is contemplating whether he should say yes or let you go home. When he finally speaks up you’re more surprised than when you realized it was him saving you from Victor.

“I guess you could use a drink after what happened in there,” he says, the tiniest smirk showing on his lips as your eyes shoot up.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on,” he nods and your little group heads down the street.

Turns out the place they were heading to was just two corners down, so they left all their stuff at the minivan at the parking lot for the time being. You slide into an empty booth, Adam and Mitch go to get the first round, so it’s just the three of you girls and the professor.

“So you’re in one of Harry’s lectures?” Charlotte asks with a warm smile.

“Yeah, for the second time, actually. Had him in first year, now it’s my fifth semester and I had no doubt I have to take his class if I have the chance.” You pay a glance at him, but he is staring at his hands on his lap, you can’t tell if it’s because he is uncomfortable with you there or if it’s something else.

“It’s so funny, because we’ve heard that he is known to be a good teacher but we never actually heard it from one of his students,” Sarah chuckles. “What’s he like?”

“Sarah, you enjoy talking about me when I’m very much present?” he scoffs, giving her a look, but she just shrugs innocently.

“Come on, I bet even you’re curious about what your students think of you. Now is your time to find it out!”

“I think Professor Styles knows very well that he is one of the best, if not the actual best,” you truthfully say and see him raise his eyebrows a little.

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

You glance at him again, as a way of asking for permission if you can answer. You definitely don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about him when he is right next to you. He looks into your eyes, and his expression tells you that he wants to hear your answer as well, but he quickly adds:

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

“It’s not a secret,” you admit it with a smile. “Professor Styles’ lectures always leave you with a question to think about until next week, he is great at getting into your head without you even noticing. He explains the most complicated things in so simple ways, it should be taught,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I think his enormous knowledge about many different fields in science and just life in general is amusing, anyone can learn something from him, it’s guaranteed.”

“Wow, where is this academic genius side of yours when you’re around us, or we only get to see the dad joke version of you?” Sarah teases him and you can’t push down a laugh, imagining him cracking dad jokes feels so alien but still kind of fitting for him.

“That’s what you get when you’re a nosy little thing,” he retorts with a small smirk. He then turns to you, and as Sarah and Charlotte are laughing on something, he lowly tells you: “You can call me Harry outside of school. Feels weird that you call me professor when my friends are around.”

“You sure?”

He nods and you spot a small smile on his lips. He must be getting used to the feel of you being there, but you still don’t want to push his limits too much.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions, leaning back in his seat.

“Of course.”

“If your ex is this aggressive, why were you there with him?”

His question is surprising, you didn’t think he would ask you something personal, but you guess it’s a valid question after he just saved you from Victor.

“I wanted to get a book back that I left at his place. Didn’t even get to the point where he could have given it back,” you mumble under your breath.

“What book?”

“Just this… research methodology book, wanted it back for my thesis work, but I guess I’ll have to buy a new one,” you huff bitterly.

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

“Y-Yeah, it is. You know it?” you ask, but then realize it’s a bit of a dumb question. He probably knows every academically important book you will ever come across.

“I actually have it myself,” he nods. Just then, Mitch and Adam return with the drinks and you thank them for the beer, already reaching for your money to pay, but Adam shakes his head.

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

You watch as Mitch sits beside Sarah, curling an arm around her shoulders and though you couldn’t have guessed that they are a couple, seeing them like this it actually makes sense, they look cute together.

You take a sip from your beer, trying to join the conversation Sarah and Charlotte are having, when your attention is pulled back by Harry.

“I can… lend you the book, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll just get a new one.”

“No, really. I think I even have two copies, I can give one to you.”

“I couldn’t ask you that, prof—I mean Harry.”

“You’re not asking,” he smiles at you softly. “I probably won’t need both, so why not put the extra into use?”

“Okay, but I’ll pay for it,” you insist, but Harry shakes his head.

“No need, one of them was a gift so I didn’t pay for it either.”

“Well… if you’re sure about it, I would love to have that extra copy, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So Y/N, what do you study exactly?” Adam questions, pulling you out of your little discussion with Harry.

“I’m majoring in anthropology, but I’ve been taking some psychology classes on the side just because I’m interested in the topics.”

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

“Had him for intro Sociology lecture first year, now I’m in his Methodology of Cultural Anthropology class.”

“All these subjects with their GY endings, I don’t know how you two put up with science on this level,” Sarah huffs in amusement.

“The names sometimes sound fancier than the subject itself,” you tell her smiling.

“But I bet you need to be quite smart to study these stuff on this level you are at.”

“Oh, it’s just a bachelorette degree, I wouldn’t say I’m that smart,” you chuckle shyly.

“She is totally toning it down,” Harry speaks up, catching everyone’s attention. “I know students tend to take my into Sociology class for just some extra credits so I always give them two options for the semester. They can either write a two pages long review of any article related to the topics talked about at lecture and get their strong C with the bare minimum, or actually participate and do a research of their own and turn in an at least seven pages long essay about their chosen topic. Y/N turned in an eleven pages long paper on the history of death sentences in the U.S. in the last fifty years and how society is thinking about it nowadays. It was easily one of the best works I’ve ever read and it was just an intro class.”

“You remember my essay?” you ask in complete shock.

“Of course. As I said, one of the bests I’ve read,” he nods confidently.

“So you’re like… on Harry’s smart level, actually?” Sarah asks, tilting her head to the side and you can feel yourself blushing.

You’ve always been said to be the smart kid at school, but you never thought it to be true yourself. In your book, you were just doing your absolute best, soaking in whatever knowledge was thrown in your way. You never actually understood how someone could just not study for an exam or not do an assignment, because you always felt like it was your duty to do the best you can. You thought yourself to be more of a hard-working student rather than a smart one.

“She is definitely a bright one,” Harry agrees, his eyes meeting yours as a small smile appears on his lips and you think that this is the biggest compliment you’ve ever gotten. “She actually tricked me with a psychological experiment and I didn’t even realize it,” he laughs and you can’t hold your smirk back.

“What? What did you do?” Charlotte asks, dying to know how you played Harry.

“Have you heard of the Pavlovian response?” you ask looking around and you can tell it rings a bell for all of them.

“The one with the dogs and the bell?” Mitch asks and you nod.

“Wait you did that on Harry?” Adam laughs with wide eyes and you just nod with a sly smile.

“I just offered him strawberry flavored candies every time I saw him. Took me six weeks to build up the response but he actually started expecting it whenever he saw me,” you tell them chuckling to yourself.

“And I only realized it when she stopped with the candy and I felt this massive feeling that something was missing,” Harry adds shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Sarah snorts clapping her hands together. “Y/N, I adore you, you’re brilliant!”

“It was just… an experiment,” you shrug shyly.

The night carries much faster than you realize. One drink turns into three and before you could realize, it’s already past midnight. Eden texts you, asking where you are since you said you’d just get the book and go home right away, but it’s been hours.

Y/N: Don’t freak out, but I’m at a bar with Prof. Styles and his friends. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

Eden: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT AFTER READING THIS???!?!

Y/N: Lol, chill. Nothing extra is happening.

Eden: It’s already extra that you’re out with him.

Realizing how late it is, you decide you better get going, since it’s a long way back home. When you tell the little group that you’re about to head out, they all agree that it’s time to part ways and leave, so you all slowly make your way back to the parking lot.

“Do you know where the bus stop is back?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, trying to spot where you should be heading.

“You want to go home by bus at this time?” Harry asks.

“Well, I surely won’t pay for a ride, I live almost an hour away from here.”

“An hour?” he frowns. “I’ll take you home, come on,” he tells you, heading towards the minivan.

“What? No need. The bus is fine,” you protest, but he shakes his head.

“You are not taking the bus at this hour, not under my watch,” he simply states and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Didn’t realize I was under your watch,” you tease him and it seems like your comment caught him off-guard. “Don’t piss your pants, I was just joking,” you tell him, and thought for a second you feel like you are being way too comfortable around him, his smile quickly smashes your doubts.

Sarah, Mitch and Charlotte all take an Uber since they live near each other and Adam is picked up by his wife, so when everyone is off to their own way, you and Harry get in the van and head to your place.

“How long have you had the band?” you ask, in need to break the silence that’s been weighing down on the two of you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly when you see him.

“About four years. Used to have another one, but we parted ways.”

“And what do you do in the band?”

“I, uhh… Well I mostly sing but I also play the guitar.”

“You know, I’m not that surprised you can sing,” you chuckle to yourself sinking further down in your seat.

“How come?”

“You have a voice that’s great to listen to at lectures, makes sense that you can sing as well.”

You take a moment to look at his hand that’s gripping the steering wheel, he is the kind that drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one on the shifting gear. He makes it look so easy as he steers the wheel whenever he is turning a corner while his other one easily moves around the shifting gear, his tattoos are peeking from under his rolled up shirt sleeve. He catches you staring and you feel a blush burning on your cheeks as you turn your head to the other side. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that third beer…

“Am I really seen that rigid by the students?” he speaks up after a while and you turn back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You said I’m known about not mingling with students.”

“Well, you don’t mingle, do you? But it doesn’t mean you come off as rigid. More like… closed-off. Private.”

“I know I should be a little friendlier, but I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I think everyone gets it why you’re like that.”

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously a ladies’ favorite, but it doesn’t sit well with you being a person of some sort of power. It’s clear that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong picture about you. I’ve seen how bluntly girls are flirting with you, some of them are quite scandalous if you ask me,” you huff to yourself. “I totally get it that you don’t want even just a rumor to spread about you.”

“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he admits, running his tongue over his lips.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still a highly fancied professor, in all means,” you tell him with a warm smile.

“Does this mean you also fancy me?” he suddenly questions and your lips part at his words. He quickly realizes how ambiguous he just sounded. “I mean, am I one of your favorites? Where do I stand in your chart of professors?”

You can’t tell for sure because of the lack of lighting, but you could have sworn there’s a light blush on his cheeks as he corrects himself. Because of this, you don’t know for sure if he really meant it academically. Either way, the answer is the same.

“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.

“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.

“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.

“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.

“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.

“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.

“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?” The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.

“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.

“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”

“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.

“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”

“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.

“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”

“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.

“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”

“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.

“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.

The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.

Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.

“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.

“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.

You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.

“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.

“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.

“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.

“M’sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.

“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”

“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.

“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.

The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.

Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.

Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.

Sarah Jones is now following you!

You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.

Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.

Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?

Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…

Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?

She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

 This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.

Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.

“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.

“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.

“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”

“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

 Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.

You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.

Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.

As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.

“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.

Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.

“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.

“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.

Just as you thought.

The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.

“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”

“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”

He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.

“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”

“By who?” he spats.

“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”

Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.

“I-I’m…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.

You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.

When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.

But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.

Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.

But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.

The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.

“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.

The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.

“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”

It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.

“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.

“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.

He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.

Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.

“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”

“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”

“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.

What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.

For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.

Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.

You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.

No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.

Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.

The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.

One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.

Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.

That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.

-

Dear Harry,

I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.

Happy holidays,

Y/N

-

Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.

“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”

His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.

“What’s this for?”

“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”

His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.

“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.

“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”

You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”

He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.

“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”

“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”

He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.

“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.

You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.

Breakfast is now following you!

You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.

Could this be Harry’s profile?

The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.

You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.

You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.

It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.

You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.

Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.

Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!

It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?

Y/N: Sure!

Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.

“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.

“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“But you already gave me one!”

“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.

“You too, Harry. See you!”

You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.

Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.

Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.

Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.

The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.

Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.

Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?

You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.

After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.

Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.

“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.

“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.

The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.

And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.

Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.

Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.

Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.

You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.

“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.

“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”

“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”

“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.

“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.

“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.

“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”

“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”

“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”

You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”

“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.

“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”

Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N…”

“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.

“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.

“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”

“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

“You’re the one making it hard!”

“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”

“The opposite?!”

“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”

“You started with the gifting!”

“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”

Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.

For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.

In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.

You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.

“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.

“Let me help you.”

You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.

“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.

“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.

You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.

“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”

Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.

“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”

“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”

Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.

Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.

“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”

“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”

“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”

“What?”

“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”

“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”

“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.” “Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”

“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.

“He really did that to himself.”

“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”

You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.

A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.

Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.

You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—

The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.

Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.

“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.

Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.

“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.

“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.

“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.

“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.

“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.

His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.

“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.

But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.

“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.

You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”

You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.

“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”

“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”

“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“

You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.

It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.

It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.

He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.

His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.

It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.

“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.

“Take me home then.”

“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.

Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.

“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.

You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.

It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.

“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.

“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.

He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.

Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.

“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.

His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.

“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.

“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”

“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.

He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.

Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.

“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.

“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”

“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”

Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.

“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I do. I’m just—“

“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.

He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.

Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.

You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.

You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.

“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”

“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.

“Oh fuck!”

“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.  

You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.

“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.

“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.

It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.

“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.

Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.

He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.

“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.

“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”

“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.

“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.

Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”

“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”

“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.

Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.

“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.

“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.

“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”

“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[demonslayedher]

How Does Eating Humans Work?

Hello, Gotou here. We’re shamelessly borrowing from the format of a KnY Fanbook #2 comic to launch an investigation into demon metabolism and development by crossing the Sanzu River again to interview demons in the underworld. While we’ll be using canon materials as a base, the analysis and conjecture herein is personal, so we ask for your understanding. Also, please note that consuming any food in the underworld will make you unable to return, and we cannot promise your safety even though the interview subjects are dead, so please come along at your own risk.

Some of the questions we’d like to answer are, why do demons need to eat humans? How much do they need to eat to survive? Are there factors that influence how eating humans makes them stronger? If they don’t want to kill humans, what are their other options? We’ve rounded up some special guests below the cut (hidden for length and grossness), everyone from the lowly Temple Demon to the lovely Tamayo, to see what their actions in canon might tell us.

First, a review of what canon tells us, mostly as summarized in Fanbook #2: 1. With one exception named Yushirou, all demons were created by Kibutsuji Muzan, for his own purposes. They all have some amount of his blood, and can be divided into four classes depending on how powerful they are. From top to bottom, the Upper Moons, the Lower Moons, demons with special abilities, and other demons without any special characteristics. 2. Demons may be stronger depending on how much of Kibutsuji Muzan’s blood they have. Most beings’ cannot handle a large amount of his blood, and it will rupture the cells and that being will die, but there are demons who adapt well to it. 3. Typically, sunlight is the only way to kill a demon, by either bathing them in sunlight or cutting of their head with a Nichirin blade. However, there are powerful demons for whom chopping off their head does not work, and if it’s strong enough, demons can also be killed by wisteria poison.

4. Demons eat human blood and flesh. The more they eat, the stronger they become, and the faster their regenerative abilities become. Some humans have “Marechi,” a rare blood type, which is especially nutritious to demons, and eating one Marechi is the equivalent of eating several humans.

That’s an interesting thing we’d like to come back to, especially since we’re looking for quantitative information about how demons gain nutrition (though I have my doubts we'll get enough for statistical analysis). As an interesting note, Fanbook #2 also tells us that if demons try to consume the same edibles humans do, they’ll vomit it back up.

I’m told that Miss Tamayo drinks tea, though. That’ll be an interesting question for later. In my notes, it seems she’s also explained to Tanjirou back in Chapter 15 that demons will normally go berserk if they go a long time without consuming any blood or flesh. Berserk is one thing, but I wonder if they can starve to death? We’ll see if these canon clues will lead us to anything. We’ll begin now in an interview format. Hopefully this will go smoothly, but I’ve got a feeling it won’t. First up, we’ve the Temple Demon.

Temple: Who were you calling ‘lowly’ just now? Up there, above the cut?

Gotou: That was in a literal sense, not having Blood Techniques means you’re in the bottom common tier of demons.

Temple: Argh. Fine. What do you want to know?

Gotou: In Chapter 2, you were spotted with three human victims. However, it seems you left their bodies mostly intact and only ate small parts instead of consuming one full human at a time. Could you comment on this?

Temple: I’d have gotten to more later if that whelp with the strong legs didn’t interrupt me! Who’s got time to eat entire humans anyway? I went for the easy stuff first.

Gotou: I see. It appears you might had focused on key organs, like the heart and the liver. Would you say these are especially nutritionally dense?

Temple: I guess. If I’m going to eat humans, I’m going to start with what’s worth bothering to digest. Blood’s easier on the stomach, so that’s what I was busy with on the lady there.

Gotou: Then it takes effort to digest? Hmm. Let’s come back to this later. How many humans would you say you consumed, including these three?

Temple: Not a lot… I tried to get a variety so I could get stronger faster, but…

Gotou: I’ll put down a guess as ten or less. Let’s move on to someone who has a sharper memory for numbers. One of our longer-lived guests at Mt. Fujikasane for 47 years, the Hand Demon. While most of the demons on the mountain had only eaten two or three humans, you’ve eaten a whole 50 of the children who headed into the Final Selection, didn’t you?

Hand: Yes, that’s right. It was hard at first since I wasn’t very strong, and the demons usually all went crazy there eating each other, just like that one brat who got away in Chapter 7 said. If you could manage to kill any of the kids, you had the other demons to fight off to even get a piece to yourself. That was enough to get me by, and stronger, little by little. Your body learns to make your meals last, and make the most of what you can get. I usually only had a bite of one child a year, can you imagine how horrible that was? Most demons who survive usually figure out some way to develop and survive better, and once my cells found something that worked for me, I kept doing it. I got really good at snatching away prey from other demons, and soon enough I was a bigger threat than any of them. None of them could, you might say, lay a hand on me.

Gotou: That’s an interesting point about self-development. A demon named Nezuko was spent two years doing that in her sleep.

Hand: She must have had a big meal before that!

Gotou: Well, anyway. It seems that in near starving conditions, your metabolism made the most of what you had, leading to the most efficient use of whatever food was available to you.

Hand: That’s right, I got really good at it. Wasn’t always pretty, but I made it work. I got to a point where I could go two years without eating and still keep my wits about me while the other demons were going mad. But I chose to eat. I liked to keep my appetite for specific children.

Gotou: That smile is not reassuring. Some humans taste better than others, I guess?

Hand: That’s for sure. This one kid tasted awful, like rust and man sweat! I still don’t have that disgusting taste out of my mouth! But he was one of my more satisfying meals, so I ate more of him.

Gotou: Then why would you… nevermind, I don’t like that smile, no further questions. While I had hoped to keep these interviews focused on quantities of humans consumed, it does seem personal taste is worth asking about. I had tried to invite a Swamp Demon from Chapter 11, but it kept arguing with itself and it felt like I’d be wasting my time. The one definite thing I learned was that this demon is picky, with a distinct preference for 16-year-old girls. Based on the number of trinkets he kept, it seems he had consumed at least seventeen of them, including several in one town. Sheesh, that’s sort of a rough mission to send a first-timer on. I’ve got a more cooperative guest here to discuss her tastes, a Snake Demon who, according to Chapter 188, has a special taste for baby flesh.

Snake: Thank you for having me here. It’s good to be appreciated again.

Gotou: Did you only eat babies?

Snake: Goodness, no. Babies are delicious, but they aren’t very nutritious. And their skulls certainly aren’t that big, the ones I lounged around with were from the people whom I killed and stole from. But you know the nice thing about baby skulls? They’re still soft. They take a long time to digest, but I can swallow them whole.

Gotou: Like… like a snake, then. Sorry, I’m a little ill hearing that. Let’s back up, were all those skulls the remains of adults you ate, then?

Snake: Meh, I ate some of them of better-looking ones, but most of them I only killed. I could usually kill a lot more at a time than I could bother eating, my killing record was fifty women all at once.

Gotou: And you didn’t find that wasteful?

Snake: Wasteful? Not at all. I wasn’t exactly in dire straits, I lived a more luxurious life than most demons do. That meant I could afford to wait for a truly delicious meal, like how you humans might leave something in a slow-cooker to enjoy the perfect combination of doneness and tenderness, plated in the most appetizing of ways.

Gotou: I guess demons and humans are similar in that regard.

Snake: I’m so glad you can relate! Then you understand the frustration of a meal you’ve be preparing for years opening up the slow-cooker and running away right when they were just about done.

Gotou: I have never had that experience.

Snake: I’ll get you, my pretty. And your little snake, too.

Gotou: I think we might have gotten a little off-topic here. It does seem digesting humans comes with some difficulty. I’d like to invite the Drum Demon in next. Your name is Kyougai, I hear?

Kyougai: !!

Gotou: Kyogai, right?

Kyougai: You’ve heard of me! You know my name!

Gotou: I happened to, yes.

Kyougai: What have you heard???

Gotou: That you were kicked out of the Lower Moons for being unable to consume enough humans.

Kyougai: Oh. ……..yeah, that’s me.

Gotou: I thought demons go berserk if they go a long time without consuming humans. Wouldn’t that make an inability to consume them problematic?

Kyougai: It wasn’t that I couldn’t eat them! Like I said in Chapter 24, I had to in order to sustain myself, just like any other demon. But, at some point, I couldn’t eat as much as I used to. That happens to humans too, doesn’t it? When you just can’t stomach anymore?

Gotou: You mean like when you’ve overeaten? In a human’s case that feeling may go away within a few hours.

Kyougai: Sort of like that, but you know, humans reach a time when nothing is appetizing or the thought of eating makes them feel sick, right? Isn’t that the human condition?

Gotou: …uh… maybe if they have a medical condition? Or anxiety? Do demons get anxiety? Or eating disorders?

Kyougai: I… I don’t know. I just wasn’t good enough.

Gotou: I think it’s plenty good if you stopped eating humans. Though to have developed Blood Techniques and been a Lower Moon in the first place, you must had eaten a great number of them.

Kyougai: You think I’m great?

Gotou: What?

Kyougai: No, sorry, I was getting ahead of myself. It’s true, I used to be able to eat as many as the other Lower Moons always consumed. Our stomachs were stronger, you might say. Demons got strong by eating humans, and then the more you did that the better you usually got at it, so the strong ones would eat more and more and keep getting stronger and stronger. At least, that’s how it usually worked. I’ve seen other demons below me reached that point too, where they feel the drive to eat, but then they have trouble digesting it for a long time, so they don’t wind up eating that many people.

Gotou: Then it would make sense to eat the most nutritionally dense parts first.

Kyougai: Or a Marechi.

Gotou: Yes, or a Marechi.

Kyougai: It was a great idea, wasn’t it?

Gotou: I cannot condone any consumption of humans as a good idea.

Kyougai: I knew it. I’m nothing. Go ahead, stomp all over everything I ever tried to accomplish.

Gotou: I think I’m going to move on to my next interviewee now. It looks like we’ve got… oh, would you look at this? Lower Moon One. Enmu, I believe.

Enmu: You can believe whatever you want. I’m happy to help.

Gotou: I don’t need any help, thanks. I’m curious, since you were one of the stronger demons out there, it seems you had a stronger capacity for consuming humans.

Enmu: I did, I was always careful and paced myself so the Demon Slayers wouldn’t notice me. I took my time. I liked to enjoy e-e-e-a-c-h one.

Gotou: Then you had tastes too? Like babies, or 16-year-old girls?

Enmu: I could season any human to my liking. They’re all very easy to prepare.

Gotou: I’m still trying to get quantitative data. Can you tell me at least a rough estimate of how many humans you consumed?

Enmu: I told this more precisely to that boy with the earrings back in Chapter 59, and I can tell you this too. At my best, I could had eaten over two-hundred people at once if I took my time.

Gotou: OH MY GAW----sorry, I dropped my pen. Two hundred, at once?

Enmu: Yes. If I had just. Had. A little. More. Time.

Gotou: Clearly there is a huge difference between what common demons are capable of and what the Twelve Moons are capable of.

Daki: Psh, those were all any random common people. That’s nothing to brag about.

Gotou: Excuse me, and you are?

Daki: Daki, Upper Moon Six. You want something really impressive, you talk to the Upper Moons.

Gotou: I’m sorry, I don’t see you on my list.

Daki: What! Your list is stupid. Look me in the eyes, I’m Upper Moon Six!

Gotou: Very well, then. What can you tell me about your diet, Miss Upper Moon Six?

Daki: That’s more like it. It’s true that digestion takes a while, and takes some effort. Even though we Upper Moons may have eaten hundreds of people in our lifetimes, it’s not as if we gorge ourselves. The clever ones among us save prey for later to eat when we feel ready for it.

Gotou: Food storage? How do you keep them fresh?

Daki: You leave them still alive, numbskull. Nobody wants to eat something cold, that’s gross.

Gotou: I see, so that’s why demons prefer to go after new kills instead of saving what they’ve already managed to kill. That also might explain why the demons on Mt. Fujikasane wouldn’t had eaten many humans, if they found long dead ones in edible.

Daki: You want to know the real secret to eating humans? You can eat what you find tastes good, sure. But to get stronger, you eat strong people. Like your Corp members, the ones besides chumps like you? Using all that Breath makes their muscles really lean and potent, it’s like they come offering themselves as protein bars for us.

Gotou: You make them sound like a fad diet…

Daki: The real secret is eating Pillars. Besides Marechi, they’re the strongest meals out there. Guess how many I’ve eaten?

Gotou: I don’t have the data to make an educated guess.

Daki: Then get educated! Look back at Chapter 88! I’ve eaten seven Pillars, and my brother has eaten fifteen!

Gotou: Your brother? Who is he, then, Upper Moon Five?

Daki: What? Ew. Gross. Gross! No way, ew!

Gotou: Hmm… eating Pillars, huh? Well, I can think of one Pillar who was…

Douma: Me too!

Gotou: Speak of the devil.

Douma: Actually, we Upper Moons can! And he's not Satan, that's not how this works. But I guess Muzan-sama’s curse doesn’t effect us now. Ask me anything you want!

Gotou: That Chapter 143 reference was such a rude entrance. I understand that Pillars are particularly nutritious—

Douma: Oh, please don’t misunderstand! I don’t even eat all the Pillars I’ve encountered. There was the one Flower Pillar who got away from me, but some of the boy pillars I just leave around. What’s really the key to consistent nutritional intake is women! It’s really unhealthy for a demon not to get enough women in their diet, that’s why even if you’re only looking for Marechi or Pillars, your metabolism is going to get thrown out of whack with sudden big meals. You grow a stronger metabolism with consistency, I believe!

Gotou: If I could stop you there, I had an image from Chapter 142 I preferred to focus on for this case study. I see you keep a wide collection of skulls, from victims whom I assume you ate.

Douma: Yes, they all stayed together inside me for eternity, but the room looked lonely without décor.

Gotou: It seems other demons usually go for nutritionally dense organs like hearts or livers, or easy to digest parts of the body, perhaps just blood sometimes. Eating the entire victim, bones and all, doesn’t seem to be the norm.

Douma: Bones are organs too, you know! That’s where blood is made, at its freshest. They do take more practice in learning to digest, and I had to find a way around not having to chew them, but the bone marrow is very, very good for you, so I make sure to consume it frequently. It may take more time and it causes some of my followers to panic more while they wait, though, that’s a bit of a downside. Oh, and I guess bones can make good storage for some sneaky poison. Even fingernails and hair follicles, who’d have thought?

Gotou: I don’t think hair would have much nutritional value in the first place. In all my years, I can never recall seeing a victim with their hair eaten.

Douma: Tsk, tsk! Clearly you haven’t done much metabolism research in advance. I was really impressed by how well Shinobu-chan understood how my digestion would work. Eating hair can do amazing things! Isn’t that right, Genya-kun?

Genya: ?????????

Gotou: Genya-kun!?

Genya: What am I doing here?

Gotou: I don’t think you’re supposed to be here. Isn’t there, you know, another side? The other direction?

Genya: What are you doing here? Did you die?

Gotou: I’m here doing research on demon metabolism and how they get stronger by consuming flesh.

Douma: What can you tell us about what up with having your friend feed you hair you found on the floor in Chapters 170-171, Genya-kun?

Genya: I’m not a demon!! Why the hell are you asking me?

Douma: ‘Hell’! Haha, good one!

Gotou: How do you even know about that? You were dead almost a full volume before that. And Genya’s different, he’s not a case study in how demons consuming humans works!

Douma: Are you certain?

Gotou: I hear the term get thrown around a lot that he’s ‘half-demon’, but—

Genya: I’m not a demon!!!

Gotou: --how would that even work? That would imply that one of his parents had to be a demon, and that—

Genya: What did you say about my mother!?!

Gotou: What? Nothing—

Genya: You say that to my face! You just trying saying something about my mother to my face! My mother never actually ate any flesh, you got that? She doesn’t deserve any of this!

Gotou: Genya, calm down, what—

Douma: I see we’re learning nothing about hair at all. Maybe Kokushibou-dono would provide better commentary on that?

Genya: Mom? Mo-o-o-o-m? Are you down here somewhere?

Gotou: And there he goes… wait, did you say Kokushibou? Upper Moon One? Oh no—he—he didn’t want me bothering him, he did not agree to another interview—

Douma: He-e-e-e-e-y, Kokushibou-dono! How did that work with Genya-kun eating your hair? Hair can be nutritious, right?

Kokushibou: You would gain… nothing… from consuming human hair… it’s not… flesh… you wasted your energy digesting it…

Douma: Aww, cutting it off them would had been sad, though.

Kokushibou: Demon hair… like demon weapons… is made… from our unique cells. It’s not dead… like human locks. Because that boy ate my live cells… it affected him…

Gotou: Yes, because he had a very, very unique metabolism, analyzed separately in this post. To be perfectly clear, Genya is completely human with cells that could temporarily transform, and he never consumed human flesh.

Kokushibou: He… vexes me…

Gotou: Um… while I’ve got you here, you’re one of the longest lived demons, clocking in at over three, maybe four centuries. Do you have any estimate of how many humans you’ve consumed?

Kokushibou: ……I see in… Chapter 100… that you are 23 years old?

Gotou: That is correct.

Kokushibou: Do you bother… remembering how many meals… you’ve had in a mere 23 years?

Gotou: I’m very sorry to have bothered you.

Douma: Kokushibou-dono’s ancient compared to the rest of us! But if I tried, I could probably recall. Let’s see. One, two, three, four…

Gotou: Is that? Your finger in your brain? Oh—ohhh—that is disgusting---I really don’t need to know numbers that badly, please stop. Is there maybe just some average you can give me for the Upper Moons instead? Like how many you’d eat in a month?

Douma: I wish I could, but a certain someone was an annoying outlier and didn’t like to eat so many humans. He made me worry all the time about his health.

Gotou: Really? Who might that be?

Douma: Hello-o-o-o-o-? Akaza-dono? Yoohoo! He spends all his time with his wife now and never answers when I call, it makes me so sad. Akaza-dono did eat humans, plenty of strong ones, but any time he wasn’t under orders from Muzan he liked to spend his time training instead of eating. Fanbook #1 says he did that way more than eating!

Gotou: Training? What sort of training?

Douma: Similar things to what your Corp members did, I imagine. Doing squats, throwing punches, things like that.

Gotou: Then demon muscles had similar function to human muscles, and could be strengthened through hard work? That’s surprising.

Douma: I know, right? I’ll let you in on a secret, I don’t think it was the physically repetition that did anything. I think it was his willpower getting honed and shaping his muscles.

Douma: I had to focus when I acquired new skills too, like breaking down poisons. A lot of sad, lowly demons, like that Hand Demon fellow? They focus as hard as they can in their desperation, or focus on some strong emotion or attachment or whatever, and they grow and develop because of it. Sometimes all their weak bodies can manage is an ugly mutation, but that’s proof enough of how much focus they had.

Gotou: That sheds a lot of light on Nezuko, actually.

Douma: Shed “light” on Nezuko-chan, hahaha! Sunlight! You humans are all so witty!

Gotou: Speaking of willpower, I’ve got one more interview I need to get to down here. Of all the demons I have records of, only Nezuko went her whole time as a demon without consuming any human flesh, although she did go through moments of berserk cravings for it. It’s possible that other demons were killed before they could consume anything, but typically they will consume flesh as soon as possible, which is why its common for their family and close relations to be among the first ones killed. Tomioka-san even mentioned in Chapter 1 that these close relations are especially nutritious.

Gotou: A demon about as old as Kokushibou, if not older, is a special case of her own. She was one of the only demons we know of to have escaped Kibutsuji’s curse and acted in dependently of him, including having created a demon of her own after two hundred years of trying. Most notably to our purposes, she trained herself to subsist on small amounts of blood, after having survived on corpses and wild animals for a time, according to the extensive Taisho Secrets at the end of Volume 21.

Tamayo: I explained this in more detail to Tanjirou-san in Chapter 15, but I went on to purchase blood from poor people, and extracted it in ways that wouldn’t be harmful to them. The one demon I created, Yushirou, could subsist on even less. I gained enough self-control that I could treat injured humans without feeling tempted into a berserk state.

Gotou: I was just talking to Douma about willpower making demons capable of accomplishing new physical developments. Was that how you were able to gain this state? I heard you even enjoy a cup of tea now and then.

Tamayo: Yes, I’ve taken a liking to it. I’d offer you some if not for this, you know, being hell. It’s nothing like the hell I went through when first resisting consuming humans, though. My demon body refused to take anything but fresh human flesh at first, but in the hardest moments, I always remembered a kind demon hunter who said he believed in me and my desire to defeat Kibutsuji Muzan. I believe Nezuko may have summoned her strength to resist the call of her demon cells in a similar way; she knew she had her brother there to rely on. Once she mastered something as remarkable as resisting the need for human flesh, it gave her the freedom to prioritize other developments.

Gotou: You spent centuries researching demon cells, especially how demons may break down and metabolize poisons.

Tamayo: I had not studied the metabolism of poisons until working with Shinobu-san. The medicine we concocted for Kibutsuji was only possible thanks to her work, and I couldn’t had worked with many of those wisteria-based substances on my own. I feel I was only there to fill in the gaps of her brilliant understanding.

Gotou: You’re very humble. I would pass along my thanks and compliments to Shinobu-sama too, but I’m pretty sure she’s not down here. On that note, did Genya-kun go back home?

Tamayo: He did after a nice reunion with his mother just now, it was very sweet. Shizu-san and I get along well, after all, we both carry similar guilt.

Gotou: Wait, was his mother a demon? That means Wind-sama’s mother was too? Wait?? What??

Tamayo: The worst hell I went through, or that any demon has gone through, is to realize what you’ve eaten after the hunger-driven madness clears. Being similar to your own cells, they’re easy on a volatile new anatomy to break down and digest. That’s why many demons may have driven themselves to forget everything all over again, or to twist their personalities to justify the horror, saying that because they ate the hearts of their loved ones and because demon flesh can live forever, then they never truly killed them. The truth always remained untwisted for me, and to this day, it torments me more than anything in this underworld can try.

Gotou: …

Tamayo: You should wake up now, Gotou. You’ve been through a lot; the nightmares must be taxing on your health. Please remember to eat well.

[leviathanswingman]

cavity and sweet tooth; DiaLuci oneshot

“Lucifer, can you come here for a moment?”

Lucifer, sitting by the fireside with his head bowed ever so slightly, bangs softly brushing against his cheeks, lifted his head from the paperwork he had been working on for hours and hours with no end in sight.

He turned his head towards the source of commotion, barely able to suppress a sigh as he took note of Diavolo sitting on the ground of the house of lamentation’s music room, cross legged and soft-spined, evidently lost in conversation with none other than Lucifer’s antisocial little brother Leviathan.

Seeing them chatting as if they were life-long friends, Lucifer couldn’t help but suppress a sigh he could feel rising from the depths of his soul. With Diavolo’s devil-may-care personality, fraternizations of this sort rarely ever worked out in his favor.

After all, the demon prince had originally paid the house of lamentation a surprise visit to discuss several work-related issues that had come up on short notice . To no-one’s surprise however, that had quickly turned into Lucifer doing the actual work while Diavolo was fooling around, attempting to lure Levi into another semi-deep conversation.

“Yes?” Lucifer asked, admittedly curious to find out what exactly those two had been going on about. Leviathan was extremely reclusive by nature, so for someone to catch his attention, the topic of conversation must have been quite captivating.  

He pushed up the glasses that had been sliding down his nose inch by inch, readjusting them appropriately.

Diavolo mustered him and let out a sigh. “Come here, just for a second!” When there was barely any reaction coming, he shook his head impatiently and beckoned Lucifer over. “Do I have to implore you? I promise it won't take long. I want to try something out Leviathan here mentioned-”

“Right, right.” Through years and years spent as Diavolo’s friend and right hand man, Lucifer had learned that when confronted with another one of Diavolo’s outlandish requests, indulging him before inevitably shutting him down was the easiest way to go.

He sighed once, but put aside his paperwork regardless and got up from his chair. Of course he knew this foretold nothing good. Still, it was Diavolo who was asking. And although the man often failed to remain professional, determined to break down all of Lucifer’s carefully built up walls, Lucifer knew he could trust him. Even in moments like these when Diavolo was really hellbent on testing his patience.

He walked over to Diavolo and Leviathan, stopping inches away from them and crossed his arms. “So, what's all of this about?”

Diavolo looked up to him and threw him a displeased look. “Lucifer,” he started and before Lucifer could so much as answer, Diavolo had already closed his fingers around Lucifer's wrist, giving it one big tug.

Taken off guard by Diavolo's sudden boldness, Lucifer let himself be pulled down to the ground with nothing but a badly hidden stumble.

Levi, who had been lounging on a couch behind Diavolo let out a stifled laugh before Lucifer caught his eye and gave him a proper glare, shutting him up for good.

“Diavolo!”

The demon prince let out a low chuckle as he watched Lucifer readjust his position. As soon as he was sitting semi-comfortably in front of him, Diavolo grabbed Lucifer’s forearms and lifted them

 “I hope I didn't startle you now, did I?” he said with a low rumble to his voice, his eyes focusing in on Lucifer's hands which were hidden by his lavish black gloves. “Would you take these off for a second?”

Lucifer's eyebrows knit together in confusion. He lifted his eyes to look at Diavolo, whose attention seemed to be strictly focused on Lucifer's hands.

“I suppose,” he answered, yet before he could do as much as lift a finger, Diavolo was already busying himself pushing up Lucifer’s sleeve, hooking his index finger in-between smooth fabric and even smoother skin, successfully freeing Lucifer's left hand.

“There we go!”

“Remind me as to why we're doing this again?”

Diavolo scooted a little bit closer, now facing Lucifer as he took hold of his right gloved hand. “No need to look that grim. As I said, I was just wondering about something Leviathan has brought up ever so passionately. You'll be free to finish your work in no time.”

A small scowl crept up on Lucifer's face as he turned his head towards his little brother. “Levi, if this is anything but appropriate I will make sure to turn you into-”

Before he could finish his sentence Leviathan had already taken hold of his belongings and bolted out of the room. To be quite honest, Lucifer couldn't remember the last time he had seen him run quite as fast.

Lucifer decided to put his focus back on Diavolo just as he felt one of his fingers glide along his skin before disappearing in the gap between glove and hand, successfully pulling off the second glove as well.

For a moment Diavolo ogled Lucifer’s hands, hands that were seen covered way more often than bare, before raising his hands as if to give a high five.

“Mirror my movements,” he said with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his admittedly pretty eyes.

Lucifer stared at his raised palms for a moment or two until Diavolo started to get tired of waiting and motioned towards Lucifer with a quick circular motion of hand.

“Hold them up like this,” he said, putting both his hands back up at chest height.

“Diavolo, I really don't see the point in any of this,” Lucifer protested, but followed suit anyway. He mirrored Diavolo's motions, throwing him a quizzical look from behind their hands while doing so.

Diavolo threw him a blinding smile as he connected their hands palm to palm, gently but confidently, making sure that they were lined up perfectly at the bottom.

The tips of Lucifer's fingers, softly pressed against Diavolo's digits, were tingling curiously under the gentle feeling of skin against skin.

It wasn't that Lucifer was touch-starved, no, he was simply not used to these slow, soft, almost tentative touches; especially coming from Diavolo.

“Well, won't you look at that!”

“What specifically am I supposed to look at now? This is ridiculous. I still have work to do so-” he started, but before he could stand up again and return to his stack of papers Diavolo pushed his hands against Lucifer's perceptibly harder.

“Don't be like that, just look!!”

Lucifer pushed back out of reflex.

His eyes dropped down to their hands and, surprised by the unexpected sight, Lucifer felt something click in the back of his brain.

 Graceful, slender hands stood in contrast to slightly bigger, stronger looking ones. For once, he did not push back in retaliation, but mustered their joined hands instead.

The sight made him feel almost nostalgic. Hands, once curled to uncertain fists, were now joined in mutual obedience and respect. It was a strange and perhaps vulnerable thing to take note of. He shook his head, face to face with his own mushy thoughts.

Still, instead of pulling away as his instincts were telling him to, Lucifer pushed back as Diavolo also considered their hands for a moment, letting out a rumbling laugh before dropping his fingers a bit to fully slide them between Lucifer’s.

“Even your hands are positively stunning, Lucifer. Pray tell, how do you manage any of it? Stunning from head to toe,” he practically mumbled, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, revealing the slightest hint of dimples on his cheeks.

Lucifer, unsure of what to do with his hands as he pretended to not have heard any of Diavolo’s flattering mumblings, furrowed his brows as he quickly blew a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

“There you go buttering me up again like that. What even is the use of all of this?” Experimentally, he spread his fingers a little bit further apart and threw Diavolo a quick glance from under his lashes. Finally, he grew tired of keeping his fingers upright and dropped them unceremoniously, decidedly ignoring the fact that theoretically, if you were being really strict, he was holding hands with Diavolo right now. He forced himself not to think about it beyond measure.

“Permission to compliment?” Diavolo asked belatedly, a mixture of joy and mischief painting his features delightfully carefree.

“Absolutely not.”

They were adults, and additionally to that, two of the most respected demons all across the devildom. Them holding hands like frivolous adolescents would be ridiculous, preposterous even. If any of his brothers were to see him like this, they’d certainly laugh like the hyenas they were.

Certainly, Lucifer wasn't about to get embarrassed by him and Diavolo holding hands. Except for the fact that without any doubt, he was indeed feeling undeniably embarrassed.

He cleared his throat. “So, has inspiration finally struck hard enough for you to tell me what this is all about? If I recall correctly you mentioned this having been caused by another one of Levi's nonsensical ramblings?”

Diavolo’s eyes were still trained on their joined hands. He ran his thumb across the back of Lucifer’s hand and let his middle finger rub along Lucifer’s protruding knuckles. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, unaware of the redness that was unmistakably dusting his friend’s neck and ears. 

Lucifer, ever so aware of his body’s own reactions, suppressed them with sheer dedication and efficiency before his tired mind could come up with any more funny ideas.

He cleared his throat and forced his attention back to their previous topic of conversation, away from Diavolo’s beautiful -of course solely objectively speaking- fingers rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hands.

“So what sort of nonsense was Levi trying to convince you of?” he tried again. And in spite of himself, Lucifer caught himself suppressing a sigh accompanied by a shudder as Diavolo ran his thumb over smooth skin, turning it into a huff before the traitorous sound had even so much as a sliver of a chance of slipping past closed lips

 Although he was known all across the lands for his professionalism, that didn’t mean he was unresponsive to outward stimuli. And no matter how easily exasperated he was by Diavolo’s lack of work morale, Lucifer had grown somewhat fond of the future demon king. Not that he would ever be caught dead admitting to such a foolish thing out loud.

“Oh, nothing much. He just mentioned it being a ‘sacred trope’, i think that’s how he put it, therefore I couldn’t help but feel tempted to try it out myself! So what do you think, Lucifer?”

Lucifer averted his eyes and successfully crushed the overwhelming feeling of sheer mortification daring to overtake his body.

Of course, Diavolo had been swayed by Leviathan’s absurd ramblings, overtaken by a morbid sort of curiosity he often liked to display as a born-to-be isolated from most of society. There was nothing more to it than that.

Lucifer untangled his fingers from Diavolo’s, standing up abruptly.

“This is not only a waste of my time, but also yours. We should get back to work now. There’s no reason to bother with this any longer.” Without any hesitation, he turned back around to the abandoned stack of paperwork sitting lonely by the fireside. He took a third of the work off the pile, placed a pen on top of it and pushed it into Diavolo’s lap, who blinked at him sheepishly for a moment. Diavolo then threw him one last look, which was glaringly obvious a pout, and let out one big, dramatic sigh. “You are incorrigible Lucifer, has anyone ever told you that?”

Lucifer allowed himself one last look at Diavolo’s almost cartoonish sulking expression before he averted his gaze from the playful twinkle in Diavolo’s eyes down to the way the fabric of his pants was stretching under the promise of girthy thighs and delicate skin, willing himself to come back to his senses before it was too late and he had officially lost all common sense. “Get back to work, Diavolo. You know I’m a busy man and neither of us have all day.” 

He threw the demon prince one last stimulated look, calmed his heart, picked up his pen and started writing.

[silkling]

This is part two of an ask box fic. For part one, click below.

Part 1

———————————————————————————————————

Cody had been expecting to see Blades sitting in front of the TV when he and the others returned. He had not been expecting to see the large bot the team had rescued holding the copter while said copter made a sharp, painful sounding noise. When he, his siblings, and the other three bots had returned to the firehouse, they’d been chatting and teasing Heatwave about his increasing frustration with his difficulty at contacting Optimus. Then when they’d gotten down to the bunker, the three Cybertronians had abruptly stopped talking, before they’d looked concerned and panicked and rushed ahead. The humans had followed as quickly as they could, and the group arrived to see Blades in the large bot’s grasp, making that noise that Cody didn’t know the meaning behind.

The large bot noticed the, first, and a sharp, red gaze snapped to the group. “More younglings, little one? I suppose I should not be surprised, the Rescue Force did tend to match teams within the same age bracket.” he remarked.

Cody didn’t know what a “youngling” was by Cybertronian standards, but to human ears it sounded like the new bot was calling Sigma-17 kids. Or at the very least, younger than adults.

Heatwave clearly didn’t care about what the bot had to say. “You let Blades go!” he snarled, stepping forward and looking ready to tackle the larger bot.

Blades had startled and gone silent when the bigger flyer spoke, but at Heatwave’s words he jumped and pulled himself free, gathering his pedes under him and standing between his team and the larger bot. “Wait!” he protested. “He wasn’t hurting me. I was kinda…collapsing, and he kept me front falling.”

Cody frowned. “Why were you collapsing?”

“He told me something that Optimus should have told us a long time ago. Something very bad.”

“And what was that?” Kade snipped, eyes narrowed.

“I’d be curious to know too.” Dad’s voice came from behind them. Cody turned to see his father stepping out of the elevator. “But first, maybe we should sit down. Something tells me this news isn’t going to be pretty.”

“You are a clever human.” The stranger rumbled. “I believe that would indeed be best.”

Heatwave growled, but nodded stiffly. “This way.”

He led them to the lounge area, where everyone got settled and comfortable. The stranger sat on the floor, Blades and Boulder took the couch, and Dani and Graham sat beside their respective partners. Heatwave sat leaning against the couch, and Kade sat leaning against him. Chase pulled over a Cybertronian sized beanbag Graham and Boulder had made, and Dad squished in next to him. Cody, after a moment of consideration, stepped in and sat in front of the newcomer. The large bot shot him an arched brow, and the human just smiled and waved in response.

“So.” Heatwave grunted. “What’s this news?”

“We’re the last Rescue Bots.” Blades cut in, voice quiet.

Chase was frowning. “That is not entirely news. Optimus implied as much when we asked him about the rest of the Rescue Force. I assume the rest of the Rescue Teams were folded into the Autobot ranks when the War began.”

Boulder frowned. “That would make sense, though I have a hard time believing the others would just….abandon in the oaths of neutrality we all took.”

“They did not.” The stranger cut in. “When the War began, the Rescue Force remained neutral. They aided and rescued mechs from both factions. Megatron offered them the chance to join the Decepticons, and they refused. They wished to hold true to their oaths to serve and protect all who needed it. Megatron did not take kindly to the refusal. In order to make an example of them, and also to remove a faction that would aid his enemies, he destroyed the Rescue Force Headquarters and offlined every Rescue Team there. Survivors of the initial attack, as well as those who were simply not present, were subsequently hunted down and slaughtered.” he said bluntly.

There was dead silence in the bunker, with horror growing palpable in the air.

“Dreadwing.” Blades’s voice was weak. “Maybe that was a bit blunt.” He glanced at his teammates. “I think he’s right. I found a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in one of High Tide’s data pads. Plus…remember what Optimus said when he first saw us? “I was not aware Rescue Teams were still active.” That’s what he told us.”

Dreadwing. So that was the stranger’s name. Still, he was more worried about the bots. Boulder looked horrified and increasingly sick. Heatwave looked stunned and angry and grief-stricken all at once. Chase looked disbelieving. None of them seemed to be able to protest what they’d been told.

“Dreadwing, is it?” Dad’s voice rose in the silence. “You seem to know a lot about the topic.”

“Any Cybertronian who was alive at the time knows about the Fall of the Rescue Force. It was a great tragedy.”

“That’s why Optimus is so adamant about keeping us here.” Blades whispered. “He knew. He probably thought we’d be in danger if any other bot knew what we are.”

“You would be.” Dreadwing agreed. “If Lord Megatron were to discover your existence, he would send his forces to see you slain, even if it meant razing this island to the ground to do so. Perhaps he would even keep you alive long enough to force Optimus Prime and his team watch your destruction.” He stated, blunt and hard.

Everyone collectively flinched at that, looking sick and horrified at the prospect. Cody could relate. The way Dreadwing discussed such violence and such horrors…it was so casual. He didn’t know what to make of it. The Rescue Bots didn’t speak so bluntly about that sort of thing, but he knew that was due to lack of exposure to that level of violence. Optimus and High Tide were both also very…sanitized, in the way they spoke of the War. It wasn’t necessarily bad that Dreadwing didn’t care to censor himself, but Cody certainly wasn’t used to it. Just the idea of his friends being stolen away and killed to make a point made him sick.

Graham’s voice broke the silence. “Lord Megatron.” he sound, sounding strained. “You called him “Lord Megatron”. I can’t imagine any Autobot calling the leader of their enemy something like “lord”. Which means you’re not an Autobot. You’re a Decepticon.”

There was a second of silence, and then Heatwave surged forward and yanked Cody away from Dreadwing. As one, the Rescue Bots, baring Blades for some reason, lowered the windshields in their chests to let their partners climb in to safety. As for Blades…he just stood, carefully maneuvering Dani out of range of danger and stepping forward before anyone else could do anything. Cody, still dazed and now strapped into Heatwave’s passenger seat, could only watch in confusion.

“Everybody stop and calm down!” The copter snapped, his rotors rattling against his back. The other bots were still, and Dreadwing hadn’t moved from his seat on the floor.

The large bot shifted his gaze to Boulder, or rather, Boulder’s chest where Graham was tucked away. “You are correct.” he said, voice somber. “I am a Decepticon. Or rather, I was. It was Megatron himself who gave me the wound that nearly offlined me.” He paused. “I am afraid I am still teaching myself to shed the loyalty that once bound me to him. I spent many millennia calling him my Lord, and it is a habit that is very difficult to break.” He tilted his head. “Regardless, I assure you I have no desire to return to the Decepticons. I would be destroyed if I were to return.”

That seemed to calm the bots down, and Dani frowned from where Blades had stashed her. “You knew, didn’t you partner?”

Blades sighed. “I suspected.” he admitted. “I read in the data pads that Optimus left for us that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers joined the Deceptions. Dreadwing is a Seeker. I put the pieces together.”

Dreadwing bristled at the mention of “Vos”, though Cody didn’t know what that was. “Vos was destroyed and razed to the ground by Autobot forces, little flyer.” he rumbled. “Seekers did not join the Autobots when the War began because most of those who did were the same who had spent generations abusing and ostracizing any and all flight-frames.” he said bluntly. “It is why most flyers joined the Deceptions. They did not wish to be treated as lesser simply because of a different vehicle mode.”

Dani blinked. “Huh. So bigots exist on all planets, then.” she sighed. “The War…are you saying it started as a social revolution?”

“Just so.” Dreadwing nodded at her. “In the beginning, it was not Optimus Prime who led the Autobots. It was his predecessor, a mech called Sentinel. Sentinel was backed by the Senate. The same Senate that had created laws to force mechs to live only by the function of their frame types, and the same Senate that allowed flight-frames to be treated as filth. When Megatron rose up initially, it was to fight for justice and put an end to the caste system.”

This was news to all the humans. They’d heard about the War, of course, but hearing about how it started and why it had began put new context on things.

“The Senate refused to listen, and thus the War began. Megatron initially led as non-violently as possible, but then any who harbored even slight anti-Senate mentalities began to be culled by Autobot Enforcers. Flyers were confined to the ground by force when not in Vos, and in Vos they were not permitted to leave the city.” The Seeker continued. “What started as a fight for equality turned into Decepticons fighting for their right simply to live. And then the Senate was assassinated, and Sentinel destroyed, and Optimus Prime took his place. By then, it was too late for things to return to peace. Too many Decepticons feared they would be killed for the crime of wanting a better life and fighting for it, and too many Autobots were bitter and angry towards the chaos the Decepticon had wrought. And so, the War continued.” he sighed.

There was silence for a long moment, and the Rescue Bots finally returned to their previous positions, though they didn’t let the humans out just yet. Blades sat on the couch, and Dani shifted over to perch on his shoulder. Everyone present was silent for a moment, taking in what they had been told. This…changed things. Certainly, the Decepticons had done horrible things. The fact that they had slaughtered the Rescue Bots was a prime example. But to learn why they had risen and where they had come from…it put a lot into perspective.

“Blades.” Dani spoke up. “You’re a flyer. Did you run into any of that sort of thing Dreadwing was talking about, before your stasis nap?” she asked.

Blades sputtered. “Well, no.” he seemed embarrassed. “You know I wasn’t always a flyer. I was a ground-frame, on Cybertron. Sure, I’d heard about the anti-flyer and anti-Seeker stuff but I never experienced it. Dreadwing is telling the truth, though. Cybertron…didn’t have the best social system. I did know about the civil unrest, thought it hadn’t grown to a revolution quite yet the last time I was on Cybertron.” he said, sheepish.

Before one of the humans could ask for an elaboration, Dreadwing was straightening up. “Youngling. You mean to tell me you were able to shift from a ground-frame to a flight-frame by scanning a new vehicle mode?”

Blades paused. “Yes?”

Dreadwing was quiet, before uttering what Cody was very sure was a curse. “You do realize that is an extraordinarily rare ability? Even triple changers are more common than that.”

“Really?” Blades, and even all the other bots, seemed stunned by this revelation.

“Yes.” Dreadwing was frowning. “Most Cybertronian t-cogs will only allow for scanning and transformation into a vehicle mode that is compatible with your root mode. To be able to change from a grounder to a flyer by simply scanning a new vehicle mode…it speaks of a highly malleable and adaptable base frame type. The kind one expects from the tales of the Shifters of old.”

That made the Bots perk up, and Cody made a note to ask about that later. For now, he opted to stay quiet and let the Cybertronians figure this out. And it seemed his family had the same idea. Even Kade, for once.

“Are you saying I’m a Shifter?” Blades seemed frantic at the idea.

“No.” Dreadwing shook his head. “But perhaps you have coding descended from them.” He sighed. “Your ability, little one, is one I have only ever heard of on Cybertron. Many would be jealous of you. I know many flyers would not give up their flight for anything, but I know of many more who would have wanted your ability desperately in order to change to a ground-frame and escape the derision.”

Blades blinked, then looked down. “Oh.” he whispered.

Heatwave growled. “Look, it’s all well and good that we’ve figured this out, but now what? You were a Decepticon! You could hurt us or someone else on the island!”

Dreadwing looked unimpressed. “I have no intentions of doing any such thing, though I will leave if you prefer.”

“But won’t Megatron kill you?” Boulder asked.

“He will try. I will simply have to avoid him.”

“Then why not join the Autobots?” Chase asked.

The Seeker’s expression went dark. “No. While Optimus Prime is honorable, the Autobots have not always been such. I have lost too much to their regime to submit myself to the brand, even if it is different now.”

No one seemed to know what to say to that. After a long moment, the humans were finally let out of the cabs of their respective partners, and Cody saw an odd look in his Dad’s eye.

“Hoe about this, then.” Dad said. “We don’t feel right about sending you off where you might be killed. You don’t want to fight the Autobots, you don’t want to fight for the Decepticons. Am I right so far?”

Dreadwing simply bowed his head.

“Do you even want to fight in the War at all, anymore?”

Dreadwing paused. “The Decepticons committed a crime which I must put right. But other than that, no.” There was a pause. “Even with my end goal, it is not the Decepticons at large I wish to see defeated. It is only one mech among their ranks.”

Dad hummed slowly, then nodded. “I’m guessing you’re not ready to tell us the details, so I won’t even ask.” he said. “Here’s what I propose: you stay here on Griffin Rock. You don’t let yourself be seen by the humans here, we do have a cover to maintain after all. You can think and plan your next steps here. That lets us keep an eye on you, and keeps our minds at ease that you’re not out there running for your life from a tyrant. You just can’t destroy anything or hurt anyone or cause trouble.”

Cody was surprised by the offer, and clearly Dreadwing was too. What did his Dad see in this large bot that was making him take a chance like this? Cody wasn’t against it, but it was a little unusual.

Dreadwing seemed to think over the offer, before he nodded. “I will accept your terms.”

Dad relaxed, and before Kade could protest he waved his children along. “Now come on, everyone. It’s late and we humans need our rest.” he said. “Kade, not here. We can discuss this more later. Let’s go, everyone.”

Cody hopped off Heatwave’s knee, and followed his siblings and father to the lift. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was the Rescue Bots turning to their newest addition, and heard the start of a question before the doors shutting cut it off.

“So what else do you know that Optimus isn’t-“

——————————

Everything came to a head a week after Dreadwing had settled into the bunker. The Seeker had taken over one back corner of the large room, converting it into a small space for himself. None of the other bots or humans had raised a fuss at that. But Kade was getting increasingly agitated. It was clear that he didn’t understand why Blades and his team were so calm about letting a Decepticon live peacefully with them. Personally, the copter bot attributed that to the fact that the firefighter was human, so he probably didn’t understand the Cybertronian cultural or societal intricacies that had allowed the five bots to come to an understanding. That day, Kade had been particularly snarly. Even Boulder was starting to get put off by it.

They had gathered in the bunker. Blades was watching TV with Dreadwing and Chase, trying to explain the allure of his favorite show to the two bots. Boulder was painting, and Heatwave was on his little sparring platform. The humans had come down in time to see Dreadwing pinch one of Blade’s finials when the little copter bot’s rotors had straightened and extended, threatening to start spinning right there on his back due to his excitement. It had pulled Blades back to himself, and he’d sheepishly tucked his rotors back along his spinal strut while shooting the older mech an apologetic grin.

To a Cybertronian, such a gesture from an older mech to a youngling would not have raised any attention. The gentle tweak hadn’t even hurt his sensitive finials. But to a human, especially one who didn’t have or understand the context of Cybertronian culture, the gesture and lack of reaction from the bots could easily be misunderstood.

So really, Blades wasn’t surprised that Kade had finally snapped. As soon as he’d seen the interaction, he’d roared a demand to know what was going on, questioning how the bots could live with someone who had been part of the same team that had wiped out all the other Rescue Bots. That was when Chief Burns had sighed and suggested they all get settled in the lounge to talk again. They had, taking up the same positions as the previous time, though this time Boulder also dragged over a large beanbag for himself and Graham, while Dani perched on Blade’s shoulder and Dreadwing took the free spot on the couch. Which was where they were now.

“Alright.” Kade spat. “So I’m not getting something here, obviously. Why are you four so comfortable around him? He literally admitted that he used to be a Decepticon! The same guys that destroyed your Rescue Force!”

“But he wasn’t there.” Blades chimed in. “We talked when you went to bed that night. He joined the ‘Cons after the Autobots destroyed Vos, which happened after the fall of the Rescue Force.”

“And that changes anything?” Kade sputtered.

“It changes everything.” Heatwave grunted. “He wasn’t part of the group that destroyed the Rescue Force. And even though he joined them later, it wasn’t to inflict violence, it was in response to his home and people being destroyed. That may be hard to understand, based on what I know of your human culture, but for us Cybertronians that’s enough.”

Kade crossed his arms, scowling fiercely. “Fine. I guess I can accept that, even if I don’t get it. What I don’t get is why you’d defect.” he directed the last part at Dreadwing. “You hinted last time we talked that you served Megatron for thousands and thousands of years, and joined him because he was fighting for a just cause, one you believed in. What changed?”

Dreadwing frowned, staring hard at the human. “You are correct, Skyquake and I did originally join Megatron because we believed him to be honorable and just.” he tilted his head. “As the War progressed and left Cybertron, Megatron gradually became more…mad. However, we still followed him because we had sworn an oath of loyalty, and to break that oath would be dishonorable.” he rumbled. “And we did not fully agree with the Autobots either, even after Optimus Prime took command.”

“Hold on.” Graham cut in. “Skyquake?”

Dreadwing blinked, and something odd entered his gaze. Blades felt the flash of grief in his EM afield before it abruptly cut off. “Yes. Skyquake. He was my brother. We were split spark twins.”

“I thought you said you guys don’t have families like humans!” Kade said to Heatwave, eyes narrowed.

The fire truck scowled. “We don’t! Not usually! There’s only really one exception, and that’s so rare I didn’t think it mattered!”

“Two exceptions.” Blades intervened quickly. “There’s actually two exceptions, two ways for Cybertronians to have siblings.”

Looks were directed at him, and he squirmed under the attention. Slag, he hadn’t meant to say that. They’d want to know how he knew and that was something he wanted to keep to himself. It was his burden to bare.

Dreadwing sensed his discomfort, cutting in before the questions could start and drawing the attention back to himself. “Yes. The first exception is that of split spark twins.” He glanced at the humans. “We Cybertronians are not created like you organics. On Cybertron, our source of life is called the Well of All Sparks. It is where all sparks are created, and where all sparks return upon deactivation.”

“A spark is like…your soul, right? It’s what gives you guys life and makes you who you are.” Dani questioned.

Dreadwing dipped his helm towards her. “Indeed. When a new Cybertronian comes into be, their spark is created in the Well. It goes through several layers of the Well’s energy, the spark refining and becoming more defined as it progresses to the edge of the Well from the center. Often, the sparks will not maintain their form in this process, and their energy will dissipate and return to the Well.” Noting the human’s looks, he shook his head. “The spark has no life or sentience at that time, it is merely a small collection of energy. It is if the spark holds its form past the final layer of shaping that it gains sentience and life. At that point, the energy of the Well pulls resources from Cybertron itself to create a protoform, a physical body, around the spark. Then, the protoform is pushed from the Well, and thus a new Cybertronian is created.” the Seeker explained.

“That doesn’t explain how you guys can have siblings.” Graham pointed out.

Dreadwing dipped his head. “Twins like myself are a rarity. They occur when, just before a protoform is formed around the spark, a surge of energy from the Well causes the spark to split into two. When that happens, most sparks to not survive and dissipate. If they do survive, the Well forms two protoforms around the two halves. The two halves of the spark can function on their own, and are fully formed in their own right, but due to the fact they were one a singular spark those two halves are forever bound.” he explained it carefully.

“Two halves, one whole.” Graham said, eyes lighting up with understanding.

Dreadwing nodded. “Yes. That is how split spark twins are created. Due to the bond, twins are very close to one another. A spark bond is a precious thing, little human.” His optics went distant, and Blades’s own spark ached with painful remembrance. “Through a spark bond, you are always and forever aware of the one who you share the bond with. You know what they feel, how they think, you know them in every way that they in turn know you. You can talk and communicate using the bond, and it can never be detected or listened in on. Distance can dampen a bond, and the further one gets from those they are bonded to the more muted it becomes. At one point, the bond becomes too muted to talk in words, and you can share only base thoughts and emotions.” he rumbled. “But even so, the bond persists, and it allows you to know your bonded is still living.”

“And…this Skyquake. He’s your twin? Where is he?” Kade asked.

“Gone.” Dreadwing said, his EM field flaring with that sharp agony, and even the humans could hear the grief in his tone. “Offlined before I even arrived on Earth.”

“How did it happen?” Chief asked, voice somber.

Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, and Blades could see the grief in the angle at which he held his wings, even if he had reigned in his EM field. “Centuries ago, Megatron stationed my brother here in stasis in order to guard over Deception energon deposits. I was aware of his mission, but I was sent to far off star systems to fight in the War.” he sighed. “Recently, Skyquake was awoken, and in an ensuing confrontation with the Autobots he was slain by Optimus Prime and his scout.”

Blades flinched, optics wide. Bumblebee had killed Dreadwing’s twin? He supposed he couldn’t really judge a situation in which he didn’t have all the information, but he still had a hard time imagining the friendly yellow bit he knew actually killing someone else.

“How did you survive?” he blurted out. Looks were directed to him again, confused, but Dreadwing understood.

“Distance.” he rumbled. “I was so far away at from my brother at the time of his death that the bond was too strained for me to even feel his strongest emotions. I could only barely tell he was still living, and even then only when I focused on the link between our shared spark.” His gaze went sad. “I felt his death. The surge of energy that came from the bond breaking did reach me, but by the time it did it had had to travel so great a distance that it had dulled too much to overwhelm and gutter out my own spark. All I felt was a very faint sting. It didn’t even hurt to feel him perish.” he said, and he sounded bitter at it.

Blades could understand. “I’m sorry.” he said honestly.

Dreadwing sighed. “He died an honorable death. For that much, I am grateful.”

Kade cleared his throat, frowning. “Okay.” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t explain why you left the ‘Cons. Shouldn’t you have more reason to stay with the, if the Autobots killed your twin?”

Dreadwing growled lowly here. “No.” he denied. “The Autobots gave my brother a good death, a death I know Skyquake would not have been ashamed of. For all I resent the Autobots from taking my brother from me, it is War, and I cannot find fault in them removing an enemy from the battlefield.” He turned a sharp look to Kade. “It was the Starscream, however, who is a Decepticon, who desecrated my brother’s rest by defiling his corpse and turning him into a Terrorcon.”

Blades inhaled sharply, rage clouding his processor. He seethed, his rotors clamping tight to his spinal strut, his optics going dark and angry, and his hands curling into fists. Dani was the only one to notice, and she didn’t want to draw attention to him just yet.

“Terrorcon? Cody asked.

“A zombie.” Boulder offered, looking sick. Actually, all the bots look sick. “Or the closest equivalent to it there is for Cybertronians.”

And now the humans all looked sick. “Oh.” Kade said. “That’s why you left.”

“Yes.” Dreadwing said darkly. “I learned the truth, and when I attempted to avenge my bother Megatron attempted to destroy me. It did not matter to him that Starscream had attempted to assassinate and betray him on countless occasions. He sought my death in order to protect a known traitor.” he growled. “Starscream turned my brother into something twisted and abhorrent. That is why I left.” he finished.

“I’m surprised you didn’t rip his spark out.” Blades hissed. Stunned gazes turned to the copter, and everyone was alarmed to see just how angry he looked. “I’d have tried to, in your place.”

The only one who wasn’t surprised was Dreadwing. “I did try, and I was almost killed for it. I will avenge Skyquake one day, little one. But for now, calm yourself.”

Blades actually snarled at that. His rotors rattled aggressively, the smaller ones in his pedes whirling to life with a loud buzzing, and his engine all but roared with fury. “Just the idea of someone doing that-!” he cut himself off, snarling again. Dreadwing was quick to pick Dani off the youngling’s shoulder and set her down.

“Blades.” he snapped. The others were too frozen in shock at the sight of the usually bubbly copter so aggressive.

“No!” Blades snapped. “If someone did that to ‘Aid, or Groove, or Streetwise, or Hot Spot, or any of them, I’d rip them apart myself!”

Dreadwing narrowed his optics, his processor working quickly. There was no reason for the youngling to get so upset at the idea of a spark sibling being so badly defiled, no reason for him to take it so personally. And those names…

“You are gestalt, aren’t you, little one?”

That was enough to snap Blades out of his angry haze, and his optics shot wide. Fear swamped his field, and his rotors abruptly silenced and clamped back against his spine while the rotors in his pedes cut off with a sharp grinding noise. “What?”

“Given your reaction, and those names you said….it is the only conclusion that makes sense.”

“Wait, Blades…you’re part of a gestalt?” Boulder asked, his own optics blown wide.

“That…would explain your reaction.” Chase offered hesitantly.

“Blades.” Heatwave prompted at the copter’s continued silence.

“Uh, hello? Clueless humans here!” Dani called. “Blades, put me back up. Also, what’s a gestalt?”

The youngling bent down, allowing his partner to climb her way back up to his shoulder before he sat up. He sagged, looking defeated,

“A gestalt is the other way Cybertronians can have siblings.” he said quietly. “It happens in the Well. Most of the time, the Well creates on spark at a time. Creating a living spark is a complex process, so it can’t afford to create too many at once. Every once in a while though, the Well has an excess of energy, undetectable to any technology. When that happens, it creates multiple sparks at once. If all those sparks survive to the edge of the Well, then the excess energy pulls them together into one large, massive spark. Many sparks, becoming one. They remain combined until the energy stabilizes, and then split into the original number again and that’s when the protoforms are created around the sparks.” He sighed. “When that happens, all the bots in that group are linked. They were created by the Well together, and they were merged together by the Well to bind their sparks. That’s a gestalt. Because of the spark merge that occurred in the Well, gestalt can actually merge themselves again outside of it. They can push together their sparks and processors and very beings to become a singular bot. Gestalt frames are even adapted to that they can physically combine, each member becoming a different body part, in order to form the body of a new, larger mech while their sparks combine to form the mech’s own spark. Many, becoming one.” Blades looked down. “My brothers and I are that. We can combine to form Defensor. I’m the arm.” he said weakly.

——————————

Part 3

[lu-undy]

Request #5

"Mundy goes to the pool on a hot day and a certain someone catches his eye, and that certain someone is eating an ice cream veeeery suggestively." Here it is!

"Hey, Snipes! Come and have a swim!" 

The Aussie grumbled from his plastic lounging chair.

It was a day off for the mercenaries and it was one of those days where a pool would do everyone some good. Luckily enough, that was where all the mercenaries were, in a pool! Of course the Administrator wasn't ready to privatise the place for them so there were other people around and in the pool itself.

Sniper was lazily lying on a chair, his hat on his face, somewhere between asleep and awake. Relaxing. He was just taking a break off work and let his mind swim free, as his skin sizzled under the sun. 

He thought about the previous days of battles, what he did, what he could have done better - being a professional doesn't mean being perfect. The background noises of people's chatter and lapping sounds of the water provided him the perfect acoustic space for his thoughts to fly free. 

It obviously smelt of chlorine but sometimes, as someone passed in front of him, Sniper would pick up a faint smell of sunscreen or even sometimes their perfume. It would mostly happen with women, rarely with men. 

Sniper took a deep breath and decided to look around. He pushed the hat away from his face and rubbed his face and eyes, before opening his eyelids. Thank God for his sunglasses, the white pool reflected the light like aluminium itself…! 

The Aussie looked down at himself as he put his hat back on his head, and he adjusted his posture on his seat. Yeah, the sun was starting to leave its print on him as he could see down his navy blue, Australia flag, swimming shorts that a tan line started to appear. 

"Hm." He nodded to himself and crossed his hands on his chest. He took the beer that was on the floor next to him, in the shadow of his chair and took a few lazy sips, just to wet his lips. 

Sniper let his eyes scan the crowd, in the pool first. Most of his colleagues were there. Soldier, Demoman, Scout, Pyro and Engineer, without his goggles for once. They seemed to enjoy their time greatly in the water. Soldier even seemed to have made friends with the children there, while of course being supervised by Demoman.

"What is this, private?" He asked, holding a ball in his hand. 

"A ball, Sir!" The kids answered. 

"No, you maggots! This is a cannon ball and you must use it to destroy your enemies! Do you understand this?!"

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" The kids answered, saluting.

"And who are the enemies?!"

"Commies, Sir!" 

"Soldier, mate, this is-" 

"Shush! Demoman! We need to educate the young ones! These are the defenses for tomorrow's America! And by God, I won't let an Englishman with a dress stop this!" Soldier turned to the kids. "See, privates? These are the kinds of threats to America! And what do we do when we see a threat to America?" 

"We attack, Sir!" The kids shouted back. 

"Yeeeeah!" Soldier answered. "Now let's attaaaack!"

"But… Sir?" A little kid was raising his hand. 

"Yes, private?" 

"You told us to raise our shovels and attack but we have no shovels here. Does that mean we will lose?" The poor little child asked, distraught.

"Listen, son. A fine soldier doesn't need shovels to fight. Who needs shovels, weapons or college-taught strategies when you love the stars and stripes?! I have crapped losses worse than that and look at you! Your simple existence is proof that we will win. As long as America exists, we will win! Do you understand, private?

"Uh… No, I don't really-"

"Then ATTAAACK!"

The children didn't hesitate and started chasing Demoman down in the pool.

Sniper rolled his eyes with a smile, behind his aviator glasses. His eyes then swept across the chairs around the pool. Ah, there were Medic and Heavy, sitting side and by side and chatting with a beer in their hands. Good for them. 

The rest of the crowd was made of strangers, men, women and children. 

"Ice cream?" 

Sniper's head swooshed to whoever was talking to him. It was a man who seemed to sell different kinds of ice-creams. 

"Nah, thanks, mate." 

The man nodded and pushed his little-trolley stand along. Sniper's eyes followed him for a while until his mind realised that something was wrong. 

Where was Spy? 

The Aussie looked in the pool again but no one was wearing a mask. His eyes then snapped to the crowd but again, no one around the pool was wearing a mask. And he knew Spy wouldn't remove it. Last time they had gone to the beach, he had kept it all along, under the parasol. 

Ha, now that he thought back about it, Sniper smiled. It had been a more pleasant experience than he had anticipated. He had ended up sharing most of his afternoon with Spy, chatting about anything, surprisingly enough. They had gone through wildly different topics from food, drinks, with a long bit about wines and beers, which then led to gardening of all things and childhood souvenirs of stealing fruits in neighbours' gardens…

Yeah, it had been nice, Sniper thought, and he certainly hadn't expected the Frenchman to be that talkative. Of course, on a scale from Administrator-talkative, to Scout-talkative, Spy was closer to the former. But his inputs in the discussion captured Sniper's interest and tickled his curiosity. He also discovered that Spy was as good at answering as he was at listening. He could fall silent and absorb whatever Sniper would say with keen attention. 

Shame he wasn't anywhere near. A cold beer, the sun and a good chat were a great combo for Sniper's morale. But he shall do without the good chat… 

His gaze went back to the ice-cream vendor and he saw a man buy one before leaning back on his chair. He was sitting at the opposite end of the pool, almost exactly face to face with Sniper. The man had paler skin than Sniper's and was wearing a pair of black sunglasses. 

What caught Sniper's eyes was the ridiculous speedos that he was wearing, dark blue, with a little logo that the Aussie couldn't see from where he was. Speedos… Who the hell wore those? Well apparently that mad guy did. 

Sniper squinted and stared. To be honest, that man could afford it and it did his body a few favors… He had a lean chest with what looked like salt and pepper chest hair, a stomach thinner than Sniper's, and he could clearly see a sharply drawn V-line diving to the swim wear. He gulped and his eyes moved back up. 

He had short, salt and pepper hair too. A lighter lock at the front, above his forehead and on his temples. The rest was black. Sniper couldn't say much apart from the fact that he looked quite handsome and his posture on the chair clearly showed that he knew it. 

Slim and elegant bastard even with speedos… 

Sniper watched as a group of women passed him, he lowered his sunglasses and winked at them. They chuckled and covered their mouths with their hands. 

What a bastard… Didn't have more to do than a wink to get a sheila.

They walked away and the man pushed his glasses up, resting them on his head, through his hair before starting to savour his ice-cream. By the colour of it, it must have been vanilla, or lemon, something white-ish.

Sniper stared longer as the man raised his eyes in his direction and started licking the ice-cream. 

The Aussie gulped. 

Was he looking at him, straight? How did he know that Sniper was watching him at that distance and with the yellow aviators hiding his eyes…?

Gosh, was he really-?

The man stuck his tongue out and lasciviously dragged it along the white, cold ice-cream, all while maintaining eye-contact with him?

What the hell does he want? How does he know that-? Oh, God…

Now, he was licking the cone from the side all the way up and a vicious smirk appeared on his lips. 

Sniper looked left and right. The seats next to him were empty. Ah, yeah, he had chosen that spot both because it was in the sun and also precisely because no one was there… Ah… He removed his hat and fanned himself with it. 

Meanwhile, the man with the light blue eyes staring at him continued his show and licked his ice-cream, cocking an eyebrow before taking it in his mouth and pulling the creamy snack into a cone shape. His lips were covered in white which he promptly licked, and Sniper's guts flipped inside himself. He quickly looked at his shorts and it started to show...

Bugger… He sweated and gritted his teeth.

Sniper slammed his hat on his lap to hide what his body betrayed. And breathed deep. 

C'mon, he couldn't be doing that to him, could he? But there was no one around and - oh, bloody hell, oh God damnit… 

Still with a smirk on his lips, the man stood up and let the sunglasses fall on his eyes. He went on licking the God forsaken ice cream as he walked around the pool. Sniper’s body temperature rose sharply. He didn’t know if he preferred the man to come to him or pass him and not even give him a look.

Sniper’s eyes were stuck, his heart was pounding in his chest and he tried to bury himself in his chair as deep as he could. The silhouette of the man kept on getting bigger and bigger. Sniper closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He counted the time and pricked his ears to better hear the footsteps. He heard it stop and he heard the wicker of the chair next to him creak.

Sniper’s eyebrows twitched as he kept pretending he was asleep.

“Good choice of beer.”

The Aussie’s eye snapped open as he recognised the voice with the French accent. He looked around him, Spy was nowhere to be seen.

“And no need to pretend you are asleep, Bushman. A child would fake it better than you do.”

Sniper’s jaw dropped. The man next to him, with the bottle of beer that Sniper had been drinking from in his hand, was that the man who had just spoken?

“Here, some ice-cream could do you some good.” He handed him the ice cream and astounded as he was, Sniper held it in his hand, absent-mindedly.

“Is that you?” Sniper asked as the man on the lounging chair next to him lay completely down and put the bottle to his lips again, taking a sip.

“Who do you mean?” He grinned smugly.

“Bloody hell, it is! What happened to your mask? What the…?”

“And what happened to your hat?” Spy asked, smirking behind his black sunglasses. “Why is it not on your head? The sun might get to your pale skin, Bushman.” He said in irony. 

"Holy dooley, Spook you-you scared the hell out of me! I thought it was a random bloke starin' at me with his ice-cream."

"So you are reassured that it is in fact, me?" Spy asked. "Oh, be careful, the ice cream is melting."

Sniper looked in his hand and realised that indeed it was flowing on the cone. He stuck his tongue out and licked it before he stopped sharp and realised what he was doing. 

"Hold on, that's your ice cream and my beer." 

"Well, I guess we will have to avoid telling Soldier that we share them. With his allergy to communism, he might be angry at us both."

"What're you doin'?" Sniper gave him back his ice-cream and took his beer from Spy's hand. "And d'you have an idea how you were eatin' that ice-cream? I could see you all the way from here, 's not decent, Spy." 

"You should have seen at what speed you turned crimson. Besides, which is not decent? My eating of this ice-cream or your covering yourself with your hat?" 

Sniper grumbled and frowned. 

"Come on, Sniper. It was all done in good fun." 

"Ice-cream?" The vendor was back. 

"Oui, please, for my grumpy friend."

Sniper exhaled from his nostrils like an angry bull.

"What flavour?" 

“Something different from mine, please.”

Spy paid for it and the ice-cream man left the two colleagues alone.

“Here, to cool you down.”

Sniper turned his head and saw the Frenchman handing him the cone. He sighed and accepted it.

“You are welcome, Sniper.”

“Mh.” The grumble was the only answer that Spy received. 

Both of them stayed mute for a while. They finished their ice creams while watching people come and go. The families with children were the first to leave, when the kids were tired out and hungry. A group of women came to pass by. Sniper watched his colleague from the corner of his eyes.

“Mesdames...”  He pulled down his sunglasses and slid one leg on the other. The ladies in question blushed and chuckled at the French womanizer.

[Ladies...]

Sniper rolled his eyes and looked away. 

About half an hour later, Scout came to him.

“Yo, Snipes, uh, Engie sent me to tell you we were off, you comin’?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, ok… Uh, have you seen Spy? We’ve been lookin’ for him but no one’s seen him for ages.”

Spy, who was right next to Sniper, listened carefully.

“Don’t worry about him.”

“Well, Engie’s kinda worried cause-”

“I said: don’t worry about him.”

Scout had obviously felt the animosity in Sniper. He nodded and left him in peace. Soon after, a lifeguard came to both men.

“We are about to close, gentlemen.”

“Ah, I wanted to ask you something, if I may.” Spy stood up and walked with the lifeguard, away from Sniper, along the pool. When he came back, the lights in the building were switching off, leaving only the ones in the pool itself.

Sniper stood up and collected his empty bottle. 

“Where are you going?”

“You heard the guy, they’re closing.”

“Oui, they are.” Spy resumed his seat and lay back as comfortably as before, if not more. He removed his sunglasses from his nose and put them aside. 

Sniper started walking away and stopped sharp. He turned to Spy and sighed. 

“Aren’t you gonna get out?”

“Non.”

“Spy, they’re gonna kick you out.”

“Non, they will not.”

“C’mon, stop bein’ an arse and come along.”

“Take a seat.” Spy invited his colleague and Sniper obeyed, not without rolling his eyes to the sky. 

“Now they’re gonna kick us both.”

“Non, they will not.” Spy insisted.

“Yeah, they will, you heard the lifeguard guy.”

“I did, and proceeded to convince him to leave me the keys.”

“What?”

“You heard me. There is only you and me here. Now, relax please, and let us enjoy one of those conversations. I believe we were left with you telling me about your neighbours’ apricots and how you used to steal them when you were a child.”

“Spy.” Sniper was much more serious than his colleague.

“Oui?”

The only noises around them were the lapping of the water as it flowed to the filtering pumps, rumbling away.

“Why did you do what you did with your ice-cream?”

“Because I had my doubts.” Spy answered.

“About what?”

“It does not matter, I am now sure.”

The air cooled down as the night progressed.

“Sure of what? What did you want to know? You could’ve just asked.” Sniper lay back and crossed his arms on his chest. 

Spy stood up and walked to the edge of the pool. He dipped a toe, then two and slightly nodded before taking a little step back, raising his arms, joining his hands and elegantly dived in. Sniper’s eyes never left the silhouette of the slim man who now surfaced again, fluidly breaking the surface tension of the water. Spy wiped the water away from his face, and carded his wet hair back, he was beautifully lit by the turquoise water.

“Come on, join me.” Spy gestured to Sniper. “The water is deliciously warm.”

“Tell me first. What did you wanna know?”

Spy moved to the edge of the swimming-pool and crossed his arms that he rested at the edge of it. 

“I was wondering if, perchance, you were cursed similarly to me.”

Sniper walked to the edge of the pool and sat down, his legs in the water up to his knees.

“What d’you mean?”

The Frenchman held his hand out and Sniper stared at it, before his eyes rose to Spy’s irises. He could see the waving patterns of the water on his already light blue eyes. Sniper raised his hand and it floated above Spy’s for an instant before he dropped it in it. The Frenchman nodded in thanks and Sniper entered the pool fully. He dived in and when he surfaced again, he opened his eyes to the sight of Spy looking up to him. He blushed.

“What did you mean, Spook?”

Spy gave a lopsided grin. 

“The way you stared and blushed while I was having my ice-cream.” Spy started. “And then, your covering of your lap. I was asking a question and your body answered without your lips having to.”

Sniper’s cheeks and ears burnt. He frowned and walked back to the edge of the pool.

“So what now, hm? Gonna use that against me? Gonna blackmail me or something? I don’t have anythin’ to lose.” Sniper gave his back to Spy, the water reached his hips. He put his hands left and right and his fingers were grasping the edge of the pool hard.

“Non.” 

Sniper’s eyes snapped wide and his pupils retracted to a dot. He looked down and two arms were laced around him. He could also feel the warmth of Spy’s body leaning against him from behind. Spy was… hugging him?

“I would never.” Spy added and Sniper was now sure. He felt his voice resonate through himself. Spy was resting his head against Sniper’s upper back.

“Spy… I… Hm.” Sniper closed his eyes and took that leap of faith. That mad jump, that reaction that no one expected of him, not even himself. He frowned and raised his hands to  hold Spy’s forearms.

“I just wanted to know, if by any stroke of luck, you too felt… comfortable when we were sharing conversations, if you too felt like you wanted more of these discussions, if you too wanted to see me again, soon perhaps?”

“O’course I did.” Sniper answered in a sigh, a hoarse whisper of his voice.

Both were whispering despite nobody else being around to hear them. Sniper turned to face Spy and the Frenchman raised round, kitten-like eyes to him, with a faint smile, but his eyebrows were asking a question, the question that his lips were trembling to ask, but couldn’t. Sniper was simply seized by the view. So that was what Spy looked like under the mask? Yeah, gorgeous and a half, eh. Only man on Earth who could wear a pair of speedos and not look like a mongrel.

Sniper’s hands found Spy’s sides without looking anywhere else but in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled his naked and wet frame against his own.

“Course, I did.” He repeated before bending his head down for his lips to be in front of Spy’s ear. “You arrogant, posh, unbearable idiot.” Sniper had one hand on Spy’s hair and another on his lower back. “You… You’re gorgeous with and without the mask.”

Spy’s eyes shone brighter and he smiled.

“Merci.” He chuckled. “So do you, but I must admit that I prefer you without the glasses or the hat. It feels more… intimate.”

“Yeah, same without yer mask, eh.” Sniper smiled. “Feels special.”

“By the way, thank you for what you said to Scout.” Spy said.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really know what to say.”

“Still, you did not tell him that I was there next to you. I appreciate your discretion.”

“You’re welcome… C-Can I…?” Sniper’s hand hovered next to Spy’s face.

“Oui, please.”

When his fingertips met the Frenchman’s skin, both men felt shivers like sparks along their spines. Spy closed his eyes and felt Sniper’s finger gently trace his face, discovering it all as if he was a blind man. But no, Sniper was far from blind, he just wanted to confirm that what he was seeing wasn’t a hallucination. No, the man standing in front of him had the most comely features he had seen. A slim face, equally slim cheeks with cheekbones that are jutting just what they should, long dark eyelashes, a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. Gosh those lips…

“I…”

Spy opened his eyes and couldn’t help it but his cheeks turned pink when he saw the way that Sniper’s eyes were crossing down on his lips. He smiled and pushed himself to the tip of his toes.

Sniper’s eyes shut hard and he frowned. He tasted the chlorine on Spy’s lips and oh - vanilla, on his tongue.

[gamingpsychologist]

Conflicts within teams

Conflicts arise naturally and belong in the development of teams.

"You have to cross the line, just to remember where it lays." -Rise Against , Satellite .

Conflicts can, in some cases, also just be disagreements. Like when you just gave a callout, for example cigar on Kafé, you might mean cigar lounge, but by someone else this might be understood as cigar shop. So you misunderstood each other, in this cases it can be enough to give a little more explanation, adding the lounge or shop to the callout will make it clearer what your intention was/is and that often leads quickly to a solution. Like oh, I call this room piano, and the other one shop, or you come to the solution to call cigar lounge just lounge.

But when you are in a match as a team, and things are not going well and people are getting frustrated with each other, it might not be enough to just give a bit more explanation. When you come across this situation it helps often to focus on what is to come and not on what was. What I means by this is to tell your plan in the upcoming round, what you want to achieve with that plan of yours and what utility or positioning you need from whom to get it done. Most of the times this is the job of the In Game Leader (IGL), but sometimes they can’t get out of their own head, and the help of a teammate is needed.

After the game you can further explain why the first round or rounds did not go so well. As there isn’t enough time for that in the round itself. However, when your team isn’t able to setlle their differences and focus on the task ahead this might be the right time to call in a tactical time out, just to let them discuss their issues shortly.

The Bigger Picture

This mentality of explaining yourself also applies to the bigger picture, a pleasant group atmosphere, where good performance occurs, won’t happen if the members do not know what each other's intentions are. If this is where the issue lies the development went to another phase, the orientation phase.

Don’t be afraid to take a step back and focus on the orientation phase and to get to know each other a little better. If you have not read my blog post or seen my video on the orientation phase, I highly reccomend you do either one of them. Disagreements usually arise after irritations, think of irritations such as when someone is always late for training, when they don't take the dry runs seriously, when someone runs in without droning first or when someone does not use their utility sufficiently.

When this is your issue make sure you make agreements about these kinds of irritations. When the operators jager and wamai were meta, it made every piece of utility matter. In the case of SSG, their Nomad player, Thinkingnade , didn't use his flashbangs often enough. The coach was competent enough to indicate that it was important for Thinkingnade to start using his flashbangs, and the agreement was made that he should focus on using his flashbangs every round on attack, an internal conflict was prevented. https://youtu.be/_Y0H-eI6iBc?t=6766

Conflicts are inevitable

Conflicts are inevitable, because they have their function, in the case of teams that’s creating clarity, clarity about the goals that each one of the members want to achieve, how they want to achieve their goals, and what the way of communicating with each other should be while they are working towards these goals. If a team is able to speak openly about the contradictions that exist and is able to resolve them, it will lead to better functioning and more unity within their goals and methods. Making sure there is time after a game, a scrim or a dry run, so that the team can talk about the irritations that are at play, a solution can be devised, or an agreement can be made. It may also be the case that disagreements about more important matters arise, such as how to treat each other, or what the goals of the group as a whole should be. These escalating conflicts can also be resolved by speaking openly about them. Discussing problems openly is important, because it requires empathy, understanding, respect and communication. All of them are elements that promote effective cooperation.

When there is a disagreement in an important area of cooperation or communication, and one is steadfast in one's own point of view, then there is a case of an escalating conflict. It happens often in these cases that people do not realize that there is a solution that works out well for both parties. By making compromises and talking about their differences you can come to an integrated solution. However, the reason why these often prove difficult is because there is no trust between the parties, because they often have a prejudice about the other. Sometimes, however, group members will avoid contradictions completely because they fear that they will hinder cooperation. This creates apathy (the opposite of empathy), a lack of commitment, hidden irritation and a lack of effective cooperation. This could be because the word conflict itself sounds negative, but as statet before they are necessary for further group development. When conflicts escalate too far and the group members cannot come to an integral solution, in most cases of amateur teams or ranked stacks, this will cause the group to cease to exist, and you will move on to the termination phase, a topic I discuss in an upcoming post, so make sure you follow me and enable notifications.

Conclusion

To conclude, it is important that when get into a conflict you remember that an integrative solution is often possible. Try to have confidence in the other, and communicate your own interests openly, try to put yourself in the other's position.

Your way of telling the story is not always the same as the other person's story,  only together can they form the truth. So try to ensure that the other person can also express their interests openly.

Keep in mind the goal of having and resolving conflicts, it contributes to the further formation of a workable unit. When everyone is aligned, it is easy to work together in a coordinated way.

It is true that resolving conflicts takes time and energy, time and energy that cannot be spent on training or competitions. However, an effective way of working together only comes when most conflicts have been sufficiently resolved. So it is not something that you can put aside and forgive and forget.

[quercussp]

The Royal Mr. Whiskers

Rating: T

Word count: 2.3k

Summary:

Mr. Whiskers just could not understand why they had to move to a new apartment. This apartment was perfect! It had the couch Mr. Whiskers liked, the little nook above the fridge from where Mr. Whiskers could keep watch, a nice warm bed for him. All the smells were accounted for, all the walls sufficiently improved by Mr. Whisker’s claws. But no, apparently with Phil moving in, his humans didn’t have enough space anymore.

Authors note:

Happy Birthday Zan! This fic is about moving in, roommates and cats, so I hope you like it <3 Have the most lovely day today!

Special thanks to @alittledizzy and @bisexualshoemarriage for the beta work <3

Warnings: light swearing

[read on ao3]

Humans truly are ridiculous. Also very needy. Mr. Whiskers just could not understand why they had to move to a new apartment. This apartment was perfect! It had the couch Mr. Whiskers liked, the little nook above the fridge from where Mr. Whiskers could keep watch, a nice warm bed for him. All the smells were accounted for, all the walls sufficiently improved by Mr. Whisker’s claws. But no, apparently with Phil moving in, his humans didn’t have enough space anymore.

“Listen, it’ll be great! We’ll take the couch with us, you’ll have more space to roam. I promise you, you’re gonna love it!” Phil was explaining to Mr. Whiskers once again, while sorting laundry. Dan was out at work, and Phil was using that time to once again try to persuade Mr. Whiskers that moving would be a good idea. “See? Nothing fits! We just don’t have the space, I keep having to keep my socks in a pile on the floor! ... No, that is not acceptable. … Because clothing needs to be put away or it’ll get dirty again! Look at this, there’s more cat hair in here than there is fabric!” Phil waived a pair of socks in front of Mr. Whiskers face.

Mr. Whiskers has had this argument with Phil at least 20 times by now. When the topic first came up, both of his humans were incredibly excited. They would spend hours looking at their little lit up book, discussing potential new apartments, choosing what furniture would come with them and what they would buy. And they had the audacity to not even ask Mr. Whisker’s permission before making that decision.

Of course, Mr. Whiskers could not let that lie. Phil’s favorite mug had to go (it was thrown off the counter in the middle of the night, just for additional impact), along with Dan’s new shoes (if his human didn’t want him to pee in his shoes, he should have put them away into the closet. Or he could have stopped this silly moving nonsense). But even those desperate measures didn’t seem to help.

Dan, of course, being the thick headed individual that he was, could not put two and two together and insisted that Mr. Whiskers was having a “mid life crisis” and that they should just ignore his antics (and put away all their shoes at night).

Phil, on the other hand, definitely knew what prompted the destruction of his mug (along with the ruined sweater and of course the ‘cactus incident’. Poor Billy did not deserve to die that young, but he ended up collateral damage). So he started a campaign to persuade Mr. Whiskers that it would be a good idea. Well, maybe persuade isn’t the right word, more like bribe him.

The first thing Phil had to do was persuade Dan that they absolutely could not live in a flat on the ground floor. It was a two week argument in which Phil was forced to be very creative, explaining that he needs the exercise of going up the stairs and that he’s scared of a piano falling through the ceiling on top of him (it’s not like he could tell Dan that Mr. Whiskers insisted that he needs a good view of the pigeons outside and that he refuses to stare at people’s feet all day. He was Mr. Whiskers, not some lowlife dog.) Eventually, after multiple arguments, a lot of whining and several “persuading sessions” that Phil carried out in their bedroom, throwing Mr. Whiskers out of the room with whisper “Do you want the view or not?”, Dan gave in.

Next was the room issue. Phil was absolutely adamant that he and Dan need a separate room from Mr. Whiskers, and it was not easy to satisfy either Dan or Mr. Whiskers. Dan kept throwing his hands up in disbelief and shrieking “Why do we need TWO extra rooms?! I get one is a guest room, but what the hell are we going to do with the second bedroom?! Phil, no we do not need a separate room for the cat!.. Ouch! Fuck off, you animal, that hurt!” Sometimes humans just needed to be reminded that stupidity has consequences.

Mr. Whiskers on the other hand demanded that he would get the Master Suite. He might not exactly know what that meant, but if anyone would have the room that’s called the “Master” room, surely it should be Mr. Whiskers.

So that is why Phil was currently on his knees in the bedroom, folding Dan’s underwear and trying to reason with Mr. Whiskers, who was in the middle of his bathing session.

“It’s just called that because it has an en suite bathroom. You don’t even use the bathroom, why would you want that room?”

Mr. Whiskers gave Phil an unimpressed glance and continued licking his tail.

“It’s already hard enough to get Dan to agree to that place with the extra bedroom. If we tell him that he doesn’t even get the big room, there’s no way he’s gonna go for it and we’ll have to start the search all over again!”

Mr. Whiskers went on to carefully licking his toes.

“I know you don’t care if we stay here for another couple months, but we’re going crazy here! And do you remember that there was an actual gas leak last week, right? Please, be reasonable!”

“Hey Phil! Are you having a debate with the cat again?” They both turned their heads to see Dan glancing into the room, cheeks red from walking home. Dan came up to Phil and gave him a peck on the lips and ruffled his hair. “You’re a weird one, Lester.”

He tried to give Mr. Whiskers a scratch behind the ears, but Mr. Whiskers had no time for that nonsense and jumped up on the dresser with a huff.

“Fine, be that way, see if I care,” Dan hissed at him and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

Phil shot Mr. Whiskers a pleading look.

“Mr. Whiskers, please, you have to be the bigger person here. Or the bigger cat I guess,” he murmured quietly before following Dan into the kitchen. Mr. Whiskers could hear wet smooching noises and laughter and assumed that the humans were doing their licking thing again. Gross.

***

In the end, a compromise had been reached. After some lengthy debates, Dan agreed that having a separate room could be useful in the future (“In case we want to expand the family some day” Dan said and both of the humans suddenly got very red and giggly, much to Mr. Whisker’s confusion), and Mr. Whiskers finally agreed to take the smaller room for himself, as long as Phil promised that he would get a proper sized bed to sleep on. And not one of those kitty beds, a proper bed. One that he would approve of himself.

And that’s how they end up sitting at the kitchen table, all three of them, shopping for beds on Dan’s computer thing (it didn’t really make sense no matter how many times Phil tried to explain it to Mr. Whiskers, but the humans didn’t need to know that, or they might think that they’re smarter than him). Dan was showing them different pictures, and Mr. Whiskers was gracefully situated in Phil’s lap, who was gently scratching his stomach in an attempt to make the whole process more pleasurable for everybody (himself mostly, of course, as there is no greater pleasure than petting Mr. Whiskers, and Mr. Whiskers was kind enough to allow it.)

“How about this one?” Dan showed a picture of a small wooden bed with drawers at the base. “We can use it as a daybed and store things in there? Maybe fit a table in the room as well, have a little home office?”

“That could work, what do you think Mr. Whiskers?” Phil replied.

“Yes, of course, what does Mr. Whiskers think,” said Dan in a slightly teasing voice.

Mr. Whiskers let his claws out a bit and kneaded at Phil’s lap.

“Ouch ouch ouch, ok, ok! No, Mr. Whiskers doesn’t like it. He wants something bigger.”

“My god, this cat is such a diva!” Dan rolled his eyes but continued looking. He showed them a couple other options but Mr. Whiskers remained unimpressed (“You don’t have to claw me every time, man!” Phil would tell him, “I get it, you don’t like it!”).

Dan continued scrolling until a picture caught Mr. Whiskers’s attention. He stood up from Phil’s lap and let out a loud meow.

“I think Mr. Whiskers likes this one!” Phil exclaimed, pointing to a picture of a gigantic white fluffy bed, with a gold headboard.

“You’re kidding, right? You have to be kidding, Phil! Do you see how much it costs? It’s a king size! It won’t even fit in the room!” Dan was starting to get a little hysterical in Mr. Whiskers opinion. And the “king” part sounded pretty good, whatever it meant.

“No, Phil, no this is absolutely not happening!”

***

But of course it did happen. Many weeks and boxes later (who knew that all Phil had to tell Mr. Whiskers to convince him to move was that there would be endless boxes. Of all sizes. All for Mr. Whiskers to enjoy, despite his humans trying to use them for other purposes), they were getting settled in their new place, and Mr. Whiskers had to admit it was pretty nice. There were large windows with a nice wide windowsill for Mr. Whiskers to lounge on while looking outside. The pigeons on the balcony were an endless source of entertainment. They got a lovely new dining table and chairs, one of which Mr. Whiskers of course promptly claimed for himself. Even the couch that they brought with them seemed to be more comfortable, now that it wasn’t totally overflowing with random things.

As for the bed, Mr. Whiskers immediately knew that it was going to be quite acceptable, as soon as Dan and Phil tugged it into the apartment, red and panting from the effort.

“Phil, I hate you for making us get a place on the 4th floor. We are never moving again, you hear me?” Dan whined, plopping himself on the sofa dramatically.

“Yes, dear,” answered Phil breathlessly and went into the kitchen to get some water.

Mr. Whiskers jumped down from his lounging space on top of one of the bookshelves and went to investigate. The bed they brought in was packed in just an absolutely magnificent specimen of a box. It was giant, just the size Mr. Whiskers deserved. He sniffed the box while walking around it. The smell wasn’t great, but that was fixable. He clawed a bit at the cardboard.

“Impatient, are you, you fucker?” Dan asked, still panting.

Mr. Whiskers shot him a dirty look. His human really needed to learn to hold his tongue sometimes.

***

Under Mr. Whiskers’s careful instruction, the bed was assembled in his room and the box from it was left in the corner for him to enjoy later (that did require some scratching to achieve, as Dan was adamant on throwing it out. Once again, the stupidity of humans continued to baffle Mr. Whiskers). Phil put down nice purple sheets and some pillows on it, and Dan moved all the cat toys and Mr. Whiskers’ scratch tower into the room with him.

“I cannot believe we have a seperate room for our cat. We must be crazy,” he said, wiping off his forehead and pulling Phil to his side gently.

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re finally done moving. I can’t wait to live here with you.”

They were looking at each other with that disgusting look in their eyes, and Mr. Whiskers felt the need to remind them of who the real mastermind behind this whole moving thing was by jumping onto the new bed and meowing.

“And with you of course, Mr. Whiskers!” Phil corrected himself.

***

That night Dan and Phil closed themselves in their room pretty early and left Mr. Whiskers to wander the apartment on his own. By now Mr. Whiskers knew that they would keep the door closed for a bit, but then probably Phil would go to get himself some water and Mr. Whiskers could sneak in at that moment. More often than not, Dan was already too tired to kick him out again, and Mr. Whiskers could get some sleep in peace.

His plan worked perfectly of course, and just a couple of hours later Mr. Whiskers quietly tiptoed into the room, just as Phil was closing the door. He waited until they both settled back into bed, softly jumped up and made his way across the covers to the nice warm spot between the two humans.

“You stupid cat, you have to be kidding me!” Dan grumbled half asleep. “Get out! Get out! You have a separate room! With a separate bed! It’s bigger than ours! Go away!”

Mr. Whiskers ignored his rambling and curled up comfortably.

“Phil, tell him to go away,” Dan mumbled, but Mr. Whiskers could hear that he had given up. “Tell him he has his own bed.”

Phil just sighed and pulled Dan closer to him. Just a couple minutes later the two humans were peacefully asleep. Mr. Whiskers curled up a bit tighter and closed his eyes. He swished his tail, gently bumping it into the two bodies around him. He would let Dan sleep a little bit before moving to his preferred sleeping location - Dan’s pillow. It’s not like Dan needed it. No matter how much he liked to pretend to be annoyed at Mr. Whiskers for pushing him off of the pillow, he seemed to prefer Phil’s chest anyway. And Mr. Whiskers was not cruel enough to deny Dan the opportunity to do that. He was generous like that.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Going Through Motions{2}

Title: Going Through Motions {2}

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Mild Sexually Suggestive Content

Word Count: 2K

Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosley Proofread/edited**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Man is it good to be back,” Sam said as he dropped into the couch in one of the lounge areas at the Avengers complex. You smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.” You walked over to him and the others and passed around their credentials.

   It had been almost a month since their names were cleared, and good standings returned with the citizens of the world. Everyone was glad to have them back, and they weren’t shy to express it. Of course, with them expressing their joy of the return of Wanda, Vision, Sam, and Natasha there was a lot of confusion as to where Cap was. The public was notified that his name was also cleared, and he was free to return and would be welcomed. With that information they began to think he’d abandoned them for real and wouldn’t return. With each passing day that he didn’t return you were becoming more and more comfortable with the fact that he wouldn’t come back. The others didn’t bring him up; they simply said they hadn’t heard from him in the last few months, that he’d stopped communication.

   “I missed the food,” Wanda said. “I missed the network,” Vision added. You smiled and stood to the side and watched them all interact. It was clear they’d formed a close-knit family over the years. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to be on the run and living off the grid. It had to be hard, especially having to evade authorities and the countless operatives the government sent their way.

“You never used to be quiet, what’s wrong with you?” You looked to Natasha and smiled. “I’m fine, just—glad to have you all back. It’s been a long time.” Wanda and Natasha approached you and hugged you. You’d been very close to them years ago, and now they felt like strangers but strangers who would quickly become friends again. You saw Tony enter the room.

   “Very glad everyone is enjoying getting reacquainted. I see Korral has given you all your credentials back and I’m happy to say you all are officially no longer criminals. Ross got back to me with the official news; records are expunged. You are even off of the no-fly list. I mean I don’t know why you were on that anyway it’s not like any of you ever fly commercial.”

   “Why fly commercial when you can fly quinjet,” Sam piped up. You shook your head pleased to see his sense of humor was still the same.

  “I’m throwing a party!” Tony added. “Of course, you are,” Natasha dryly commented as she took a seat in the barstool next to you. “I think we have plenty to celebrate.” Everyone looked to each other; no one looked like they agreed. “Doesn’t feel like it without Cap,” Sam voiced up. Everyone was thinking it, they nodded in unison, and a silence fell over the room, a heavy silence.

  “Then I sure hope it feels like it now?” Everyone’s head snapped to the door where Steve stood dressed in his suit. Your stomach fell to the ground, and you stumbled back into the bar.

   “You sly dog, always know how to make an entrance,” Sam said, getting up and crossing to him before pulling him into a hug. “Hey Sam.” Soon everyone else followed and crossed to him to greet him. You stood where you were just staring at him. He looked a hell of a lot different. When you last saw him he was clean-shaven with neatly groomed blond hair, now that was not the case. His face was covered in a groomed goatee that was perfectly filled in. His hair was also much longer, so much longer that your fingers wanted to entangle themselves in it. As your eyes traveled downward, taking him in, your mouth went dry once you realized how much bigger he was. Damn, being on the lam was good for the body, you thought.

   Your body began to tingle; it was a tingle that started in your belly and branched out to every part of you—every part. By the time your eyes finally finished their feast you realized the silence in the room had returned. Wanda and Nat were looking at you, but the others were looking between Tony and Steve. Neither of them spoke, but you knew there was a lot to say. “Cap,” Tony began. Steve nodded. “Tony.” Again, silence ensued. You didn’t know if there would be yet another fight or if both men had enough time to reflect and grow. Tony held out his hand to Steve, an action that shocked you and those around you. Steve looked to his hand and quickly took it, shaking it. The two closed the gap between them and embraced. You couldn’t help but feel a small betrayal. In all these years you knew that Tony was pissed at Steve for his actions and you felt some weird solidarity with him. Now it looked like the hatchet between them was buried.

 All eyes turned to you, and you felt like you were a contestant on some gameshow you didn’t want to be on. They all knew you and Steve were together seven years ago. Your relationship was the topic of discussion many times, to Steve’s annoyance. Wanda and Nat knew how you’d felt about him; they knew very well. His eyes bore into you—the same eyes you’d stared into countless times as he brought your body to indescribably pleasure. You’d played this moment in your head time and time again. You’d wondered what it would be like the first time you saw him. You wondered what you’d say, how you’d act, what he’d say, how he’d act. Standing across from him your entire relationship played out before you at warp speed: the intense beginning, passionate, wild and hot middle and even the soul crushing ending. At the thought of the end you broke eye contact.

   “Maybe we should--,” Natasha began. You shook your head coming back to your senses, and the present and waved it off. “No need for that.” You walked toward the group of them taking the route that had you walking behind the couches; it was the long way. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you. “Welcome home Captain.” You stopped several feet from him with a smile plastered on your face. “Thank you Korri.” At the mention of his nickname for you, a blazing heat ran down your spine to curl in your belly, a heat that jump-started your memory of every time he’d whispered the name in your ear or grunted it out in your bed as he came undone on top of you. It tripped you up. You cleared your throat. “It’s uh—it’s actually just—Korral works fine.” Steve nodded once then lowered his eyes from yours to skim your body. That was a bold move you thought to yourself, a move Steve from seven years ago would not have done. He would have kept his professionalism in front of everyone.

   “Well, I’ll get started on your credentials.” You abruptly turned and walked out of the room doing your best to keep your head up and back straight even though your legs were complete jelly.

  Three hours later you were lying on the carpet of your office staring up at the night sky lost in thought of nothing in particular. That was not the case two hours ago. Two hours ago, you were slightly a mess, so much of a mess, you’d drank the bottle of cognac you’d had in your desk for years. You didn’t just have a glass or two, you had the entire bottle and relived your relationship with Steve. You went over everything, first meet, first conversation, first touch that was more than a touch, first date, first kiss, first time you made love which was the same night of your first date, first I love you, first kiss in front of the team; it all swam in your head, and though you were over it all, it still impacted you.

“Are you okay?” Opening your eyes, you saw Wanda and Natasha standing over you. “Oh yeah, I’m good.” It was a lie, and they knew it and sank to the floor to lie on either side of you. They didn’t speak; instead they waited for you to speak. You didn’t know what to say; it had been seven years since you’d had a heart to heart or divulged your secrets. It dawned on you then that since they’d disappeared you hadn’t talked to another woman about things. You’d buried it all.

  “Safe to say Cap’s been hitting the gym,” Wanda breached. The three of you laughed together for the next few minutes. Before long, your laughter turned to sobs. You sprang up and covered your face, unsure what had come over you. Both Natasha and Wanda put their arm around you. “I’m sorry I don’t know what this is.” Wiping the tears away you sniffled and tried to get a grip. “You don’t have to apologize.” Wanda rubbed your arm. “Not to us, never to us,” she finished. You breathed out and nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” you thought about it for a while but decided it didn’t serve a purpose. “No, there’s no point. I actually have to get home. it is late, and I should have been there hours ago.”

   You walked over to your desk on shaky legs and gathered your things. You had to sober up before you got home. Wanda and Nat helped you outside where a car was waiting. You didn’t bother protesting, you slid in the back and sunk into the seat getting comfortable for the hour and a half ride back to the city and Marc.

When you got home, you expected him to be there to meet you at the door, but when you walked inside you were greeted with silence. You rushed to your bedroom hoping to make it to the bathroom to jump in the shower to wash away the tears. When you got into the bedroom he wasn’t there either, you stripped and jumped in the shower where you remained for the next hour. The shower was your thinking spot; you made all your decisions over a shower. It was in the shower you decided to test the waters with Steve, it was also there you decided to go on that date with him, and it was there you became one with the decision you loved him.

   When you got out and walked in the bedroom, you were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t realize you weren’t alone. When you felt arms around you, you nearly jumped out your skin before you used one of your defensive moves twisting the arm over your head to come up behind them to hold them in a chokehold. It wasn’t until you’d done it you realized it was Marc. “Oh my god Marc I’m so sorry.” He laughed out loud then turned to you. “Wow, I forgot who you were for a minute,” he said with an amused smile on his face. You’d never been so absentminded not to realize he was there.

   “I’m sorry.” He pulled you to his body and lifted you in his arms before he placed a juicy kiss on your lips. “You’re lucky you’re so beautiful even when you’re putting me in a chokehold.” You smiled and allowed him to kiss you again. “I don’t know where my head was.” Marc placed you on the bed and hovered over you. “Long day?” You have no idea, you thought. “Kind of, but I’m here now.” Marc kissed your forehead and then your lips again. “I can take your mind off it if you’d like.” You smiled, knowing just where he was going. Marc’s idea of a good stress release was a roll in the sheets. Usually, you’d be down to work up a sweat with him, but tonight it felt different, and you didn’t know why. As he trailed kisses down your body you tried to get in the mood. When his head disappeared between your legs you closed your eyes and tried to focus on what he was doing to you and the way he was making you feel. It took great effort to focus on nothing and no one else, but somehow you accomplished it, and Marc was none the wiser.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!   ❤️ ❤️

TagList:

@quitepointless @yourwonderbelle @caramara3 @kaetastic @toniilaney @wildmindedbeauty32 @cltex84  @bellaamor88 @periodtcevans @peach-acid @queennanayaa

[crqstalite]

pt. 16, ancestry. ( aric && hakio)

finally got around to writing another one. i had writing block for a hot second over the last week, so that’s why this didn’t come out as soon as i would’ve liked. sorry for the continuous filler, but i did need some time to flesh out hakio’s family before continuing on (they will have a bigger part in this story, especially tyqin, who contacted thek n ba’shira)

oh, and yes. tyqin is a drag queen.

written: 9.14.19. word count: 4,235.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ character song: liar, camila cabello

character file: hakiojkl hyperion, colonel of the republic military

-

thankfully, elara arrives only a bit before dinner, ending the embarrassing confrontation with voonie and her mother. her mother threatens to give aric a talking to before they leave, but welcomes elara with a sunny disposition. once the three of them get settled, hakio introduces them to the members of her family. voonie doesn't bother with elara, questioning aric and whatnot, but baishya and apani have the most questions for both members. darjev doesn't leave his room until dinner is called, and josie is happy to listen in for the time being.

to say the least, dinner's rather quiet between the members of havoc. the younger members of the hyperion family ask all sorts of questions, those they can't answer legally (e.g, who do they work for), those they can't answer morally (e.g, how many people have you killed), and just...rather odd questions to say the least (e.g is aric afraid of cucumbers). no one acknowledges elara's accent or heritage (a win in her book), and more or less the twins are curious about the firepower the assault cannons have.

her mother shuts down that discussion quick when their eyes light up ecstatically as hakio delves into her favorite topics, weapons. it's not that she doesn't understand why, which is why she switches the topic to less dangerous tactics, which elara leads. hakio figures it's still a shock for her mother, and still a sore spot for the rest of the family. the brewing war has taken the form of their injured daughter and sister, and having three soldiers eat dinner with them in lounges with ruler-straight backs and only a chuckle here and there, is probably bringing the mood down.

her mother won't look at her directly anymore either. as much as she hugged her and and laughed with her when she first arrived, her eyes still speak volumes. disappointment is the loudest, longing is another. anger hides behind her eyes, the quiet fire blazing as she takes everyone's plates from them, disappearing into the kitchen.

it's been too long since she's been home. everyone's changed, and she feels as if the kids she grew up with no longer know her, and she no longer knows them. they easily banter back and forth with each other, telling jokes as if the reason they're here is no big deal. like nothing's happened, like nothing's changed. like their sister isn't on leave, like she's been here this whole time.

it's disheartening to say the least. how close she and her mother used to be, through her training at the academy, through school. through her father's death, through the accident. they used to be two peas in a pod.

what happened?

"i'm here!" a loud and cheerful voice says, the front door shutting loudly as baishya and apani jump up from their seats excitedly and josie rolls his eyes, darjev making sure their mother really was gone and putting his feet up on the table. "did you all miss me?" she barely overhears.

"yes!" the girls and josie say in excitement.

"who's arrived, major?" elara asks quizzically, out of earshot of the rest of her family, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"i'm not sure." hakio responds, head in her hands, a headache coming on. holding her head up, she rubs her temples. "probably one of our family friends."

"nope, it's ty." darjev says, overhearing their conversation as he looks up from one of his hologames. "he's coming with us to the hospital, and against mom's better judgement, she invited him to come over for dinner. he would show up late, that's tyqin hyperion for you." darjev scoffs as josie frowns.

"tyqin doesn't mean to be late, he's just been busy lately." josie says, frowning at darjev's comment. hakio holds back a sigh, josie's protected tyqin since they were children, deflecting the blame or taking it all himself. it's admirable, but rather annoying. "maybe he has something for you, hakio!" he jumps up, and dashes out of the living room, a blur of blue. darjev lazily looks over to her.

"i'm gonna murder that man at some point." he says nonchalantly, as if he's forgotten elara and aric were sitting at the table and he was just admitting what he'd done the day prior. "push him off a balcony if i could."

"that's our brother you're talking about, darjev." hakio narrows her eyes, eyebrows furrowing. "don't go around threatening your family."

"family? tyqin hasn't been my brother for a long time, hakio." he responds dryly, grimacing as he pulls another bread roll from the basket on the table and stuffs it in his mouth. "even you know that."

hakio knows that good and well, but it still doesn't make it any better. her eldest and youngest brothers had never gotten along well, their personalities clashing hard even as children. now that they're adults, she's afraid of the fallout from years of disagreements and arguments. tykurt tended to be the middle man and break them up, but he apparently hadn't been back to the apartment in years. apani, baishya, darjev and josie were the only hyperion children that still lived in the house with her aging mother.

something about that makes her uneasy for the future. "why do you care anyways? you ran off to the military and didn't even contact us after the accident. why'd you even come back tonight?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.

"that's because i care about quinne." she answers firmly, her cheeks heating with the realization that it's true. she's been disconnected from her family for so long. it has been a long time without seeing them, and maybe she should've tried harder to come back sooner. then, it's also not her fault she's out protecting the greater galaxy and the coreworlds; as well as coruscant from galactic threats. "i'm here for her."

"good to know that you've forgotten about the rest of us." he fires back. she opens her mouth to speak again when he cuts her off, "what about the twins? mom hates that baishya wants to go into the military, apani wants to be a field medic like the imperial you brought. marli's in training right now, won't even be back until graduation. and guess what? it's all because of you. you're gonna be the reason mom lives alone, waiting until one of us gets promoted or dies to see us again."

aric and elara both stand from their seats, the aforementioned cathar muttering something about getting some air and heading towards the balcony. now alone, hakio isn't afraid to bring out some of her worse not-for-those-outside-the-family arguments. as selfish as it sounds, she's glad they're gone so that her xo and medic don't think of her any different. "and so what? obviously you and tyqin are going to be here forever, slaving away to some corporation until you pass out from heat exhaustion or smoke inhalation. if they want to follow their dreams, why do you want to stop them?" she asks, trying not to raise her voice in case those out in the foyer can hear her.

"mom already lost dad. she nearly lost quinne. she lost you. she's still holding onto what she has left. what's it gonna take for you to care about the rest of your family again?" darjev asks, crossing his arms. "one day, no one's gonna be looking out for you because they know nothing about you, nothing about where you've been, who you're friends with, what you're doing." he pauses again, watching as she changes her own stance to pick up her glass. "you haven't been my sister for a long time. don't start acting like you are again."

and with that, tyqin and his procession of hyperions enters in the dining room as her mother comes back with a towel over her left shoulder. darjev makes a beeline for the stairs, heading up to his room. all she can hear is static in her ears as she tries to stabilize herself with this realization. her blood is boiling, how can he just say that and get up and pretend nothing's changed? that what he's said doesn't hurt more than a bullet to the chest?

hakio didn't know her sisters were planning to go into the military, she hadn't even noticed her quiet sister was gone at the academy. he was right, she knew nothing about her siblings. the childish wonders they'd once all indulged in, didn't matter anymore. the dolls were traded in for dresses, the books were traded in for medical magazines, the hairties for guns.

she hadn't been the only reason for this.

"oh. my. stars." tyqin accentuates every word, shrieking in excitement as he dashes over to her, hugging her as she tries to remain upright. "my sister, a hero of the republic is finally back home!"

"good to see you too, ty." she says, trying to shake off the previous conversation and give her older brother a bear hug. he has all sorts of bags in his hands, his face painted as if he's just been at a party. and as well as he acts, he stinks of alcohol. he must've been out before he'd arrived, which while not odd, was weird he'd go partying before visiting his injured sister in a hospital.

then again, this was also tyqin hyperion. well known queen and partier on the lower levels of coruscant. "ooo, girl. i knew i snatched weaves, but where did yours go?"

"i shaved it, dumbass." she says, trying to lighten her mood as she lifts tyqin's hands from her bare head. the curly-haired male rolls his eyes as he pulls things out the bags he's carrying, laying them out on the dining room table as the younger kids' eyes widen in excitement.

"brought some things for ya'll though. sorry hakio, had i known you were coming i would've bought you something too." he says, though she knows he's not. as much as he didn't know, he probably also isn't very sorry for leaving his sister without a gift. the younger ones were always his favorites (and voonie. voonie made it clear that whenever gifts were handed out, she got something expensive too), and he was always rather stingy (even though yuvi can -and often does- pay for everything without complaint) with his purchases for other people. evident, in the new nails he has done and the way his clothes shimmer in the low light of the dining room.

"it's not that big a deal." she finally says, choosing the least argumentative response as her siblings go through their gifts. hakio doesn't make much of a note of any of them (partially because she doesn't care, partially because her mind isn't on what lifeday gifts come early they've received), and instead decides to head back up to her, aric and elara's room until it was time to leave.

"wait for a second sweetie. where are you headed?" tyqin asks, his nails just ghosting her arm as she begins up the steps, josie, apani and baishya still gushing over the expensive gifts and her mother wiping off the table. "you aren't going to be a no-show like darjev are you?"

"of course not. but if we're heading out soon i need to get dressed." she says, and hurries up the stairs so that tyqin can't say anything else. he's such an airhead sometimes, she's not concerned whether he'll remember this and question her about her behavior later.

finally upstairs, she punches in the code and enters her bedroom, where elara is sitting on her cot and reading off a datapad and aric is pacing back and forth in front of her window. both stand when she arrives, before she gives the universal sign to relax. no one speaks for a moment before elara sits back down on her cot, shutting off her datapad. "are things...alright, colonel?"

"things are fine, elara." she says softly, giving her medic a smile. "whatever happens here, stays here. we hyperions just...show love differently."

understatement of the millenia, she grumbles to herself.

"permission to speak freely?" aric growls. hakio sighs, before nodding. she wonders what has aric so riled up. "whatever business is going on between you and your family, how do you just let your brother treat you like that?"

"how much did you hear?" hakio asks, cocking an eyebrow. she's rather suspcious now, aric tended to be much more in her life than she would've liked already, which she figured was typical of someone who was trying to court you, but found that odd he would eavesdrop. it seemed rather out of character for him.

"the captain and i accidentally overheard you on the way up. our deepest apologies, sir." elara apologizes, not meeting her eyes.

"it's difficult to explain. my family's been fractured for a long time, my return home has just solidified it for some." she responds, fishing out her bag from under her bed (careful not to touch the sheets atop the mattress) and pulling out garments of clothing. "i'm going to the hospital with my family in a bit. will you two be alright alone?"

"of course, sir." elara answers, aric still grumbling somewhere behind her. the sun is just setting over the horizon, and a glance at a chrono on her wall says that it's barely early evening. chances are, they wouldn't stay long either, so maybe havoc wouldn't spend the night. "whatever you need, we're here for you."

"thank you, elara." she says, putting her civillian clothes over one arm and leaving the bedroom to change in the bathroom. as soon as she steps outside, voonie passes by and she grins mischeveously as she pockets a tube of makeup.

"that cathar is keeping you rather busy." her sister purrs as she follows her into the bathroom, the door not closing fast enough to keep the dark skinned girl out. "how many men are on the team anyways? military men are always so hot."

"none that would be after you." she deadpans. yuun? definitely not, she wasn't even sure whether gand had mates outside of their own species. tanno? hakio shivers at the thought, it could either go absolutely horridly, or worse. ryean? the poor zabrak would have a heart attack over all the skin the woman showed. if her eyes were on aric... "could i get dressed by myself, please?"

"there's something going on between ya'll, isn't there?" voonie questions again, as hakio crosses her arms. voonie moves to primp her hair a bit, slathering something over lips. the two women in the mirror don't look all that different, but the way they hold themselves is. it's like being in high school again, hakio with the baby puffs and voonie's hair flattened and relaxed. one was clearly popular, dressing nicely though she had to work for it, and the other not caring with others thought about how she dressed. "by the stars finally. thought it'd take you forever to get married. even if he is non-human." she says, an e-cigarette in hand as she blows out a stream of smoke that makes hakio cough.

"go outside with that thing. and i don't care anyways. whether i get married or not isn't any of your business. now get out and let me get dressed." she says, nearly pushing her sister out the door with more force than is probably necessary.

"hmph." is all she can say, brushing her hair away from her shoulder and turning away from the bathroom. rolling her eyes, she pulls off her shirt before sticking the next one. however, she catches a glimpse of all the scars on her chest, and the muscles that came along with them.

she can't imagine what life would be like if she never left the apartment. she wouldn't look like this, that's for sure. maybe she'd be closer to her siblings and her mother. but she wouldn't have had the same experiences, nor would she know what she knows now. she wouldn't know aric, elara, forex, tanno, yuun, ryean or synntai.

but was it worth it? the accident with the junkers, being drafted into havoc squad? the betrayal?

for once in her life, hakio isn't sure.

-

"my dear, baby sister." quinne says hoarsely, coughing a bit as hakio comes to sit by her bedside. quinne shuffles to sit up, a grim smile on her face as she visibly winces. "finally, you've come to see me."

"i'm sorry, quinne. i've been so busy with havoc-" she says, before her eldest sister cuts her off with a finger to her lips.

"so talkative. nothing's changed. i know you're busy, hakio. and that's alright. you're saving the galaxy one battle at a time, and i admire that so much." she says, her dark brown eyes glittering in the white light of the hospital's room. "i wish i'd gone into the military all those years ago. unmarried, without kids."

"but you still love them, right?" hakio asks, a little nervous with the wistful tone her sister's voice was becoming. she has three kids and a husband, so this is rather odd. "you're representing the republic as a senator anyways. you do more than i do."

"that's kind of you, hakio. as much as i'd like to take that compliment, it's not true. i'm more a figurehead than anything else." her face scrunches up in pain as she stops talking for a moment before shaking it off, "sorry, the painkillers haven't been working for a while."

"don't be sorry. this wasn't your fault." and that's enough to get her blood boiling again. this was never quinne's fault, and she shouldn't have to say sorry for being in pain while her family visits. "i'm bringing whoever did this to you to justice."

"oh, hakio please. don't do anything stupid." she takes her hands in hers, trying to calm her down. "what happened, happened. it's like when darjev and tyqin used to fight. whatever the issue was didn't matter the day after, and on a grander scale, that's all this is. whoever shot me will forget about it later."

"that's...not how war works, sis." she says. the bandage wrapped around her chest is proof enough. the imperials weren't just going to give up because one person told them to stop. in fact, that'd make it worse. "the empire will just keep fighting, and i have to be there to stop them."

"then do just that. fight the battles, win the war. whatever you have to do. then you can come back and settle down with the rest of us." quinne says, smiling, "little hakios running around here and there. what a thought."

"sure." hakio says. as much of a wish that is for voonie, her mother and quinne, to say the least hakio isn't interested in settling down. the empire isn't going to roll over when she says 'i do' to someone. the republic will never be safe, and she can't exactly chase after agents if she can't see her own feet. "maybe." she answers uneasily.

"or not." quinne makes a movement to shrug, but winces instead. "my soldier baby sister probably doesn't want to step away from the frontlines, huh?"

hakio finally looks up at her face, really looks at her. quinne hasn't been a young adult for a long time, but for some reason she looks much older than she should. the way she smiles, the way her skin crinkles around her eyes. she's not sixteen anymore, and she's really someone else now. she's the senator of a whole planet now, she's the mother of three and a loving wife. and a doting sister as she rubs her head. "just don't forget how fragile life is. i attended one funeral for a hyperion killed in action. i'm not attending one for you too."

"long as you don't die first." hakio says, and quinne smiles. standing from her chair, she stretches her arms over her head, yawning. it's been a bit, and she was the last one to come in. it must be dark by now. she might as well take elara and aric out for a bit, it'd be late and there wouldn't be as many attendants at the spaceport. as much as she should spend time with her family, everyone is looking sleepy. being in space and on different planets so often makes her a little off the r.s.t time zones, hence why she isn't exhausted right now. "guess i'll be going, quinne."

"alright. i won't let my colonel of a sister get too caught up with little old me." she says, shuffling back into a position to lay down. "don't be a stranger."

"'course." hakio says, waving as the door closes behind her. letting out a sigh, she heads down the hall back to the waiting room. her family heads outside, chattering between each other as darjev ignores the others, and voonie continues quizzing her about her state of affairs with the men on her ship. when they return to the apartment, hakio is exhausted by answering question after question. her room is surprisingly quiet when she returns, and under closer inspection, elara has fallen asleep on her cot with her datapad in hand. slowly taking it from her so she doesn't wake her friend, she shuts it off and puts it on her desk, and puts the spare blanket on over her. at least that way she won't freeze through the night.

"hakio?" aric asks, sitting up on her bed. "didn't know when you'd be back, and elara passed out a while ago."

"she's been working since before i left. maybe we should all go out tomorrow, relax a bit." hakio suggests, turning on the shade to her window so that the skyline of coruscant can't see inside her room. "what've you been up to? not snooping around my childhood bedroom, i hope." she smirks as aric chuckles.

"i'd never. your mom actually talked both our ears off and gave us the leftovers from dinner. she's sweet." he responds, "she told us about your family, your dad. she let it slip she doesn't want you in the military anymore."

"i'm not surprised." her voice quiets as she sits next to her second in command, her head hanging. "as much as she wants it, this is who i am. i'm not sure i'm ready to give it up, whether my family loves me more or less because of it. i guess i lost sight of making them proud when i got drafted into havoc."

"don't apologize for wanting to make a difference. you're protecting the republic. sure i understand why they're upset, but that's on them. you can either bend to their will doing something you'd never be happy slaving away at, or you can do something that you would do for the rest of your life with no questions." aric responds. "you can't do anything about how others feel. whether you want to settle down or not, that isn't their decision to make."

"i..guess you're right." hakio responds. possibly he'd also been through this decision in his past. maybe his parents had also been hard on him. cathars did tend to mate for life, as she'd learned. maybe his family had been looking for him to marry better than they did. "if you weren't a soldier, what would you be doing, aric?"

"i don't know. this has always been me." he pauses as if he's thinking. "what about you?"

"you probably already know from the conversation at the dinner table. i was supposed to take over my dad's repair shop. tyqin and voonie used to apprentice there, and since i was the least girlish of the family, he figured i would've liked it. then he died while i was away, and the shop went through foreclosure. by then, i knew i wasn't coming back to coruscant, and my family knew i was the only one that didn't visit anymore. they didn't bother asking me to come back anymore." she frowns. it's all true, maybe if she'd stayed things wouldn't be the way they were now. maybe her dad would still be alive. maybe things would be the way they used to be.

aric seems to read her mind and uneasy thoughts as he puts his hand over hers. "it all depends on what you want to do, hakio. are you happy with havoc?"

"more than anything. i like protecting those who can't protect themselves." she answers firmly, staring back into his emerald green eyes.

"then that's all that matters." he says, as she smiles. for real this time.

"thank you, aric." she says, tipping his head just a bit as he looks confused before she kisses him. standing before he can do anything else, she looks over her shoulder slyly as she grabs her lounges from earlier. "i'll be back, i'm going to get a shower."

"y-yeah." he responds, "i'll be here."

"i hope so." she giggles, stepping over elara's sleeping form, the door closing behind her.

as much as she hates the idea of retiring, maybe being...lifemates with aric(that's what he called it, right?) wouldn't be so bad. well, if he likes her like that. her real emotions have only just emerged, it'd be a shame if he didn't feel the same.

but...hakiojkl jorgan does have a nice ring to it.

by the stars, now she was thinking like voonie, she though angrily as she turned the scalding water on. finding quinne's attacker first, aric later.

[camillemontespan]

the enigma [olivia nevrakis interview]

Drake’s Interview

Maxwell’s Interview

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @notoriouscs @be-still-my-aching-heart @katedrakeohd

Warnings: Mentions about sex toys. This is Olivia, after all. 

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

I am waiting for my interview subject to finish modelling for our cover shoot. We are shooting in a manor just outside of Cordonia and the room is filled with flowers, ornate chairs, glimmering chandeliers, fashion assistants, catering staff and our enthusiastic photographer. 

The one person who isn’t enthusiastic is the model herself.

Olivia Nevrakis is lounging on the floor, silk and satin sheets beneath her with flowers strewn around the feet. She is wearing a pink and white gown with pink taffeta underneath the layers; she looks like she is wearing a rose. 

‘I hate pink..’ Olivia grumbles in between photos. She holds an open book in her hand and flashes that famous Nevrakis stare at the camera. I look at the screenshots and can’t deny it; she may hate pink but she makes the outfit look regal. 

‘You look gorgeous, darling!’ the photographer exclaims. Olivia arches an eyebrow. ‘Oh, I know..’ she purrs, before striking another pose. 

Once the photographs are taken, Olivia is helped to her feet by an intern. ‘Get me a coffee,’ she orders him. The intern nods, clearly nervous. ‘Um, black? Latte? Cappuccino?’

‘Ask someone else your impertinent questions..’ Olivia drawls, before striding over to where I’m standing. She holds out a hand which I shake. ‘Let’s do this, shall we?’

I am also rendered speechless. Olivia has an air about her that is intimidating. I’m not the first journalist to feel nervous about interviewing her and I doubt I will be the last. She stalks ahead of me and I watch as she takes her hair clip out of her bun, shaking her red hair out so it falls down her back like a waterfall. We enter a private room and Olivia pulls off her pearl bracelet, tossing it onto a table. There is a Chinese screen in the room, which she goes behind and starts to undress. I stand awkwardly as I see the pink dress flung over the screen, landing heavily on the floor. 

Olivia comes out from behind the screen wearing a red lace bodysuit and black stilettos. She is tall, creamy skinned and as she moves, I can see her muscles flexing under her skin. I know that she is trained in taekwondo; in clothes, her muscles aren’t obvious, it is only when she is bare that you can see the effect her training has had.  She shrugs on a red silk dressing down and ties it up before settling down on the chaise lounge in front of me. 

‘I feel much better now,’ she breathes, eyeing me. I clear my throat and set the dictaphone down on the table between us. The door opens and the intern comes in holding a tray with three coffee cups on it. ‘I wasn’t sure which one to get you so I thought, be safe and pick all three of our choices,’ he babbles, setting the tray down. Olivia looks down at the coffees, her nose wrinkled. She takes the black coffee and adds two sugars. She looks at me. ‘Do you want one of these?’

I take the cappuccino and smile at the intern. He leaves the tray on the table with the extra latte. The door closes behind him and I turn to Olivia, who has a Cheshire Cat grin on her face. 

‘I know I may come across as a bitch to you,’ she tells me, ‘but in this world, you kind of have to be. See, extra coffee.’ She indicates the latte that is still on the tray. ‘That intern was too scared to bring me just one coffee so he brought me different kinds in case I bit his head off.’

I am immediately wanting to ask her why she views the world like this. I want to find out about her upbringing and her parents, her life as a Duchess. I bite the bullet and ask her. 

‘My parents were killed,’ she tells me point blank. ‘I had nobody but servants for company.’

I tell her it sounds lonely. 

She shrugs, brushing off my concern. Olivia then reaches down into her bodysuit and brings a dagger out from her cleavage. She twirls it around her fingers; I slowly edge away. 

Olivia grew up alongside King Liam. He is so kind and gentle, it is hard to imagine the two of them being friends. ‘I like to think we compliment each other actually..’ she says quietly.  ‘He tries to make me a little nicer, a little more understanding, while I try to get him to be less gentle, less of a pushover. More of a badass.’

I ask if Liam is a pushover.

‘Oh god, yes!’ she laughs. ‘He hates conflict. When we were growing up, say it was his birthday, if his brother asked for the biggest slice, Liam would give him the bigger slice even though it was his own birthday. If it was me, I’d have shoved the cake in Leo’s face. In fact, I think I did once.’

Leo. The King’s older brother. Leo had been the king first but then abdicated and left Cordonia to do God knows what. He is often seen as the party boy royal, kind of like Britain’s Prince Harry before he grew up. I have heard he is charming flirtatious and makes women go weak at the knees.

Olivia rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, whatever..’

I ask jokingly if she has ever gone weak at the knees when confronted by Leo. She bristles and raises her chin defiantly. ‘I’m not that kind of woman, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’m not pathetic.’ 

I go quiet. Clearly, I’ve hit a nerve. Olivia takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes studying me from above the rim of the cup. ‘You’re a woman,’ she says to me. ‘Do you go weak at the knees over men?’

I ponder her question.  I have interviewed many swoonworthy male celebrities. I tell her I met Tom Hardy and the way he called me ‘pet’ made me giggle. She looks like she has swallowed something inedible and wants to throw up. 

‘The only time a woman should go weak at the knees over a man is when he leaves her alone in the bedroom with a rampant rabbit and comes back with champagne on ice,’ she tells me dryly. 

I’m shocked at how quickly this conversation has turned to talk about sex. But this is a woman’s magazine, sex is a topic we cover widely, so why not? Let’s talk about sex with Olivia Nevrakis. 

‘I mean, men are good for some things,’ she relents. ‘But most of the time, no. If I want something done, I do it myself and that goes for everything, not just sex. I love being independent.’

I ask if she’s ever had a boyfriend. ‘Nobody I deemed important enough to give that label,’ she says shortly. 

Has she ever had a crush on anyone?

‘Sure. I’m not a total ice woman.’ 

I ask if she’s seeing anyone now. She stares at me, her face unreadable. ‘I’d rather not say.’ 

She definitely is. Whoever he is, he has got to be some guy. An alpha who can challenge her but also someone who can keep up with her. I think about her circle of friends and wonder if any of the men in that group are secretly dating her. I always thought she would be well suited to the Duke of Valtoria, Drake Walker, but he married Camille Montespan last year. 

‘What the fuck? Me and Drake?’ she asks in disbelief. ‘You are aware that I’m good friends with Camille, right?’

I nod, feeling my face go red. 

‘Good. Now wash your mouth out with soap. They are so well suited, anyone who says otherwise is a moron.’

I tell her it’s only because Olivia and Drake are both outspoken and Drake is often pictured looking.. well, grumpy. Pissed off. Like he doesn’t like anything. 

‘Drake is actually a sweetheart,’ she tells me. ‘He only gets pissed off because of the constant paparazzi stalking him and Camille. Fuck, I get pissed off when I’ve got photographers hounding me. You would too.’

Since the King was crowned, there seems to have been a new obsession about him and his friends; this new generation of young Cordonian nobility who are making a difference to the country. 

Drake Walker spreads awareness for mental health - he launched a successful campaign called Mind over Matter which aimed to get Cordonian men together, outside, trekking, abseiling, rock climbing etc., while talking about their struggles with depression and anxiety. The country could donate money to the campaign which was dispensed to various mental health charities.

Duchess Camille re-introduced Open Houses, a dormant feature from 200 years ago in which she and Drake open their doors for their citizens, who visit to discuss issues and the Duke and Duchess work with them to help. 

Cordonia is becoming more modern and all the better for it. This brings me to why I am interviewing Olivia. 

Because as cold and harsh as she may be, Olivia Nevrakis has a heart. She has been working with the King to make foster care more prominent in the country. 

Cordonia is known for being traditional. Anything outside of the typical family dynamic of two parents and 2 children is seen as radical; this means that adoption and foster care is not prevalent in the country. As an orphan, Olivia is keen to change this. 

‘As I said, I grew up surrounded by servants in an old, crumbling manor. I had no parental guidance, which forced me to grow up very, very quickly.’ I see that she is opening up more now; gone is the hard stare, the bored drawl. She is now animated and gesturing with her hands to discuss this topic. 

‘When Constantine ruled, I saw orphans out on the streets, playing barefoot in dirty clothes. Most people avoided them; they would literally cross the street to stay away from them. I didn’t. I would offer them money so they could buy food or a drink.’

I did not see that coming. Olivia shrugs. ‘I don’t want children to grow up desperate. I know I brushed off your concern before, but that is just how I deal with things. I brush off people’s pity.  But fine, I’ll be honest. I hated being an orphan. I hate that feeling of being helpless so I taught myself taikwondo and defence skills. My parents had already instilled in me from a young age to know it is important to fight. Lythikos is a cold, tough place; if you have no survival skills, you’re a goner. I learned how to look after myself and I’ll admit, I picked up some fucked up ways of thinking. Like, I always carry a weapon. You saw my dagger just now. I don’t trust anybody as far as I can throw them.’

I sit in silence, scared to speak in case I lose her sudden honesty. ‘So, when Liam ascended the throne, we talked and I asked him to consider the orphans of Cordonia. Now, we’re developing a programme which is open to adults who have a job but also free time to raise a child, and offering them the option to foster these orphans. By taking in a child, the King will give them a monthly income to help pay for the child’s upkeep and that way, it’s a child off the streets.’ 

I am sceptical. Surely, some adults might take advantage and abuse this? Foster a child so they earn extra money.

‘The adults are tested about their knowledge of raising children. They have to prove they want to help a child, not to do it for their own gain. They have to do it out of the goodness of their hearts. So more families can take in orphans, more single adults can do it too.’

I ask if she would consider launching a defence training course for children. She grins. ‘Maybe in the near future..’

The foster care programme launches next month and is named ChildKind.  Olivia smiles and nods when I confirm the name and leans into the dictaphone. ‘Tell your readers that I say, ‘sign up, bitches.’ 

She is more humorous now, more easygoing.  It seems that it takes a while for Olivia to relax in interviews but once she is over that hurdle, she is easier to talk to. We go back to different topics and she is more forthcoming now. 

I ask how she deals with sudden celebrity that she has commanded since Liam came to the throne. ‘I have set up four restraining orders for four different photographers,’ she says wearily. ‘It can be exhausting. But last month, I got away from it all with Camille and Hana.’

From Hana’s Instagram feed- which I urge you to check out, it’s so pretty-  photos were put up of a girls trip. The three women went on a girls break to Mykonos. ‘We rented a villa, it was so secluded. Just a week of sunshine, drinking cocktails and swimming in the pool.’

I ask if any debauchery was had. She smirks. ‘What do you think?’

I imagine Hana is the quiet, sensible one. Olivia bursts out laughing; real laughter. ‘You would think that! Oh my God, give that girl a Tequila Sunrise and she is on the table. Nah, she is the wild one when she lets go. Camille is the mom of the group; she makes sure we’re wearing suncream, have drank enough water... she still got wasted though.’

Duchess Camille is always pictured looking elegant and sophisticated with her usual uniform of pencil dresses, nude heels and chignon hairstyles. I can’t picture her wasted. 

‘She is a fun girl, always,’ Olivia tells me. ‘But she does need to let loose now she’s a Duchess. Plus she’s from New York, of course she’s not going to be elegant 100% of the time.. Bertrand taught her well about etiquette and royal duties, but there is still a crazy New Yorker in there. Put her with Drake, who loves a whiskey, and they become more American as the night goes on.’

How?

‘I swear I heard Camille say y’all in all seriousness..’ she tells me, groaning. ‘Of course, she says she was joking, but I think she genuinely said it. She forgot she was talking to me.’ 

I ask what Drake does to be more American. ‘He has a tipsy habit of saying ‘fixin’ to. Like, ‘I’m fixin’ to get another whiskey. It means he’s about to get another whiskey. Why not just say that? He’s so Texan sometimes. His voice becomes more of a drawl when he’s been drinking.’ 

I wonder what Olivia is like under the influence. She smirks. ‘Am I hell telling you that.’

That is when I get it. Olivia is an enigma; she has these walls up which are hard to climb over and she won’t discuss anything too personal. She will happily make fun of her friends or talk about important causes such as ChildKind. She will talk about sex- hell, she mentioned rampant rabbits in this interview- but she has layers which she deliberately hides. I know she is kind and engaging, I can glimpse it. I just feel that she would rather show her true self to someone who is deserving of it. Someone who is prepared to deal with everything that she is.  Anyone else is just lucky to see above the surface.

[niceandaccurateme]

Things Change and Things Stay the Same

(A drabble about the Them discussing their identities)

“So, am I the only heterosexual left in this group?” Wensleydale asked blinking at Brian owlishly.

The Them were sitting in their quarry in Hogback Wood as they had done for many years before now and probably would for at least a few more years to come. So much had changed since they had first discovered this spot in primary school, and yet it seemed even more had stayed the same.

They were older now, bigger too, fully fledged teenagers. Pepper, the youngest of them by a few months was approaching her fifteenth birthday this fall. Their games had grown up as well. Rather than running around the woods pretending to burn witches, they now ran around the woods trying to be witches. Or occultists, as their mentor liked to specify. They’d taken a particular interest in ghost hunting that summer, after Adam had purchased a Ouija board from the internet.

Despite all that, the Them were still fundamentally the same. Adam was still their leader, Pepper was still his fierce right hand, Brian still supplied the morale for the group, Wensleydale was still their resident source of logic, and they were still considered a nusaince by most of the adult residents of Tadfield.

In the minutes before Wensleydale had asked his question the topic of discussion had turned to a new teacher at their school that the majority of their grade seemed to have a crush on.

Pepper had complained that he wasn’t even that attractive. Adam pointed out she didn’t find any man attractive. Pepper sniffed haughtily and said that even so, she was sick and tired of all the girl’s at lunch interrogating her over what he was like just because she had class with him. Adam said thoughtfully that they agreed with the girls that the teacher was quite attractive, but that it was stupid to moon over him because he would obviously never date a student in a million years so they were all kidding themselves. That was when Brian chimed in. He commented that he didn’t understand the hype over this teacher, but that he didn’t understand the hype over anyone for being ‘attractive’. He then admitted that he had begun to think he was asexual.

“Well... yeah that’s true then,” Brian replied to Wensleydale after a moment of comtemplation.

“Wouldn’t Adam be considered heterosexual?” Pepper chimed in.

“No m’not!” Adam replied indignantly.

“Yes, you are,” Pepper insisted. “If you date a boy or a girl, either way they’re a different gender than you,”

“But what if they date another nonbinary person?” Brian countered with a smile, always ready to jump in for support. “Then that’d be homosexual wouldn’t it?”

Adam grinned triumphantly at Pepper.

“There’s nothing wrong with being heterosexual,” Wensleydale muttered defensively. “And anyway, since Adam is attracted to men, women, and nonbinary people, that would make them pansexual. Not heterosexual,” He added matter-of-factly.

“You don’t get to decide what I am,” Adam corrected him sharply and Wensleydale’s lips clamped tightly together, looking embarrassed. “But what’s that mean anyway? Pansexual?”

“Pan? Like that god that witches worship?” Brian asked, a memory alighting behind his eyes of something they had discussed long ago when Anathema first came to town.

“Well yes and no,” Wensleydale explained. “Pan is also a Greek word for ‘all’ so pansexual means attracted to all genders.”

“Sounds about right,” Adam said with a decisive nod.

“Isn’t that just bisexual?” Pepper asked skeptically. “My mom has a book called the Bisexual Manifesto and it says bisexual people can love all genders,”

“No, there are differences. I’m not quite certain of them though...” Wensleydale muttered as he tried to think back to what he’d read on the internet about these different words.

Quiet fell over the Them for a moment as they seemed to all be trying to work out what they thought of all the new information that had been brought before them in the last few minutes. “I like pansexual,” Adam said, breaking the silence with their definitive tone. “It sounds more like me. I like Greek mythology, anyway,” They added with a smirk and a twinkle in their eye. They jumped down from their seat in the tree they had been lounging in.

Dog, who had spent this whole conversation voraciously chewing on a stick, jumped up and began running circles around their ankles, tail wagging. Then they walked towards Brian, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “So now that that’s sorted then,” They said, looking at the other two expectantly. “Let’s go get some food,”

With that, the Them began to wander out of Hogback Wood, possessing new words and the same attitudes, happy as they ever were.

[lemonsandstrawberries]

The Sorting Hat

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), mentions of WinterFalcon (Bucky x Sam), MCU

summary: Steve has strong opinions on every topic, including to what Hogwarts house he and Tony would belong. spoilers for Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. 

length: 883 words

a/n: inspired by this prompt! I was given the freedom to chose the houses, so I took it ;D hope you like it, reblogs, comments and likes are needed and welcomed!

——————–

The Sorting Hat

Steve sighed, closing the book. He shouldn't be surprised, really, but it still seemed unfair. He needed to rant.

"You know," Steve started loudly, finding his boyfriend standing across the room from him, working on a holographic screen. "I never liked how JK Rowling wrote Slytherin."

"Uh, what?" Tony asked, dimly registering that Steve was addressing him, lost in the world of graphs and charts. At least that was how it looked to Steve, Tony was reading some data and clearly seeing something Steve didn't.

"It is the last book! And you are trying to tell me that everyone from Slytherin fled to hide instead of fighting against You Know Who. This seems like a cheap move. They can't be all bad," Steve grunted. He loved the series, he really did. But he also strongly believed in second chances. The story was lacking it for him. Bad people remained bad, good people remained good.

Tony paused his work and turned to Steve, the biggest grin spread over his face. "Are you seriously getting worked up over Harry Potter?"

Steve huffed. He wasn't in a mood to be taunted. It was a big deal for him.

"How far in the book are you? I am a bit rusty on my Harry Potter knowledge, but-" Tony sat next to Steve and took the book out of his hands. "Not all Slytherins are bad. See? Like Snape. He protected Harry all those years."

Steve shook his head. "Only because he was Lily's son. If Neville was chosen, he wouldn't give a rat's ass over him."

Tony chuckled, huffing his cheeks out to not let the laugh escape. Steve was seriously involved in the story. It was endearing. And Tony could humor him. Probably if he won't, Steve would just go to Sam and Bucky to vent, because, boy, those two were nerds. They even got married on the day school year in Hogwarts started and threw Harry Potter marathons every couple of months.

"Okay, how about Slughorn?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I see you reading this book again, and I am surprised you don't remember. Slughorn stayed and before the final encounter he fought Voldemort with other professors."

Steve just stared. That did happen, but-

"You just don't like Slughorn, because you are biased by his elitist treatment of students," Tony pointed out with a grin and Steve shrugged with an embarrassed smile. "See, this is why you fit in Gryffindor, you all are thickheaded and see the world in black and white-"

"That's not true!" Steve interrupted but was ignored and Tony went on.

"- unlike us, Slytherins, we adapt the situation to us and make the most of it-"

"You are not from Slytherin," Steve said in a serious voice, grabbing Tony by the wrist, eyes wide open as if he heard something awful.

"Oh?" Tony's lips twitched into a smile. "Are you ashamed of being married to a Slytherin, Gryffindork?"

Steve smiled back. "I guess you will be ashamed of being married to a Hufflepuff." In Steve's opinion, Hufflepuff house was severely underrated and he was proud to share some traits of Hufflepuff. Loyalty. Valuing hard work. Fair play. Patience wasn't his strong point, but hey, he couldn't be all perfect.

Tony tilted his head to the side, considering what he heard. "Oh yeah… You kinda fall into that category. You are like the epitome of Cedric Diggory."

"Does that make you mine Cho Chang?" Steve asked with a smile. He always thought of Tony as a mix of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Brave and determined and witty.

"Careful, you know how that love story ended," Tony warned in a playful tone.

Maybe it was enough reading for one day. Steve moved closer, pressing his thigh against Tony's, leaning in-

"Ah, one more question!"

Steve drew back, looking at his husband in a bit irritated manner. He really didn't have any patience for Tony spoiling their moments. "Yes?"

Tony's lips twitched into a smile. "Seeing that we discussed your book, I want to discuss mine now."

Steve huffed out a laugh. They could form a book club. "Okay."

"So… Are you a Jedi or a Sith?" Tony asked, smiling wider.

Oh, that was an easy one. "I am Han Solo!" Steve exclaimed, finally reaching his goal and lounging himself at Tony to pin him down under himself. "I listen only to myself. And you are my beautiful Princess Leia and I will protect you with my life."

Tony whined playfully, quite comfortably smothered with Steve's solid and warm weight. He really felt protected. "Why I am a girl again?"

"Because you have the right hips and ass to wear that gold bikini for me," Steve explained, tracing light fingers over the curve of Tony's hip and the gently narrowing waist.

Tony giggled, slapping at the intrusive hand. Seemed that it just encouraged Steve to be a bigger tease, and the light touch changed into quick squeezes of strong fingers, almost as if disciplining Tony.

"HA! Hahahaa! Steve, stop!"

"Only if you agree to wear a gold bikini."

"Nehehhever!"

Steve just grinned, hoping for that answer. Thankfully, Gryffindors were so stubborn and easy to see through. When Steve used both hands to prod and wriggle into Tony's sides, it was when the real fun started.