#but honestly i would not be surprised if he frequently ends up blowing their expectations out of the water on how much of a wreck he is

[i3utterflyeffect]

What if stick!Alan gains powers at some point? He’s fidgeting with a random item and accidentally resizes it somehow, and he just silently stares at it wondering how that just happened and what it means

god that'd be funny. SC is so excited because HOLY FUCK THAT'S SO COOL!!!!! and alan is just unsure if he should be worried about this ability or not. i think it'd be fun if he could do similar things to what agent does with his array of tools as well. plus like. that'd be hella interesting when vic comes around

[avatar-anna]

Idk if you like this concept but i can't stop thinking about harry with swiftie y/n who always sings London Boy to him. And likes to tease him about the fact that he dated Taylor

swiftie!y/n by @harrysfolklore is superior, but i did my best!

(also, i know london boy isn't actually about harry, he's just being a tease)

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“Hello everyone. My name is Y/n Y/l/n, but only because my boyfriend hasn't proposed to me yet.”

In the dim lighting, you could just make out Harry's figure at the back of the bar, where he promptly flipped you off. Laughing a bit, you continued.

“He told me we weren’t going home tonight until I got up here and performed, and while you are all a lovely bunch, I fear I am growing a little tired, so here I am.”

You and Harry were spending some time in Japan. Tokyo, to be exact. He'd just come off his first solo tour, and you both thought it would be nice to get away for a little while. He liked Japan, and you had never been, so it was perfect.

In the few weeks of being in Japan, you and Harry frequented a couple of places, one of which was a karaoke bar a few blocks from the apartment you were staying at. It was all locals and the two of you, but everyone was welcoming, especially when Harry started doing rounds of sake and getting on the small stage to perform here and there. You were content to watch, though Harry tried multiple times to get you to at the very least join him. And now that it was nearing the end of your stay, he was pressing a little harder.

So now you were on the stage with a microphone in your hand, trying not to look at anyone for too long.

“You got this, babe!” Harry shouted from his seat, resting his fingers in his mouth to blow a sharp whistle.

“Thank you,” you said. “This song goes out to my boyfriend, my London boy. And Taylor Swift, who I am forever grateful to for breaking up with my boyfriend so that I could have him one day, and I hope she'll follow me on Instagram one day so we can become best friends and dress up as Charlie’s Angels together for Halloween.”

You weren’t typically the kind of person that over shared, but it took a good amount of alcohol to get a microphone in your hands, and you tended to share a little too much about yourself when you were drunk.

Harry gave you a thumbs up as the music started, and since you called Taylor Swift “mother” on a regular basis, you didn't really need the words on the screen to help you along.

“We can go drivin' in, on my scooter. Uh, you know, just riding in London. Alright. I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal. And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey...”

It was safe to say that you loved Taylor Swift. You grew up with her music, each album speaking to the different phases of your life as you went through them. Her music, her lyrics, the stories she told...you just understood all of it, you felt understood by her songs.

Meeting Harry, falling in love with him, it was all chance. He came into the clothing store you worked at, and you only recognized him as the guy from that boy band who dated Taylor Swift (which you did not tell him until much, much later). But he took you by surprise. His hair was long and his smile was shy but kind, and instead of talking about clothing suggestions like you were paid to do, he asked about you, and you asked about him, and instead of walking out with shopping bags, he left with your number, and the rest was history.

You never really expected to fall in love with Harry. Honestly, you thought he would forget about asking for your number. But he texted you a couple hours after you met, and you stayed up almost all night talking about whatever popped into your heads. He made his interest in you quite obvious, so there was never a period where friendship became more, but you still considered him your best friend. You were just two young people in love and experiencing the world together, and you wouldn't have wanted anyone else by your side.

Harry knew now what a fan of Taylor Swift you were, courtesy of a night where you had a little too much to drink and accidentally showed him a picture of a teenage you dressed in a “You Belong With Me” costume at one of her concerts.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“So, you’re a fan, are you?” he asked.

“That might be an understatement,” you told him, crawling into his lap. “You should know, if I believed in hall passes...”

Harry bursted out laughing, throwing his head back as you giggled with him. You thought he might be put off by your love for your favorite artist, but when he sobered up, he kissed the top of your head and said, “Noted. I’m very thankful that you don't believe in hall passes then.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“You know I love a London boy, I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon. He likes my American smile. Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you...”

You were no performer, but you did your best, skipping between tables and trying your hardest not to sound horrible. You tried not to look at Harry too, because you knew he would be smiling no matter how good or bad you were, and you needed to make it through the song without getting flustered.

However, as the song came to a close, you went over to where he was and planted yourself on his lap, singing the last few lines just to him.

You could tell he was a little drunk too. His green eyes hooded as he smiled down at you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and his grip on your waist made it hard to focus, but you managed to make it to the end of the song before kissing him.

His lips tasted like alcohol and the lip balm he kept in his pocket at all times. You held the sides of his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing at his temples as the patrons of the bar applauded your big finale. Eventually you pulled away to give the microphone back to the person in charge of the karaoke machine, but Harry didn't let you get far, his arms circling around your waist and holding you close.

“Let’s go home,” he mumbled as the next person got ready to perform.

“Can we grab something to eat on the way back? That left me starving. I don't know how Taylor does it.”

Harry chuckled as he stood up from his seat, leaving a couple bills on the bar before taking your hand in his as the two of you walked out into the chilly night air. “I perform too, you know.”

“I know, but she has these huge dance numbers too. It must be exhausting.”

“Are you saying I need dance numbers in my performances now?” he asked, but he knew you were joking around. He was a close second in your list of favorite artists, and he was well aware of that.

You shook your head, shivering a little as the wind picked up. Harry pulled you close, resting an arm over your shoulders. You wrapped your arms around his middle as you walked, pressing your cheek against his chest and savoring the warmth emanating from him.

You were both quiet as you walked down the street, content to just be next to each other. Until,

“You know I’m not from London, though, right?”

“Oh, I know. But Holmes Chapel boy doesn't have the same ring to it!”

Harry leaned down to brush his lips against yours. It was short and sweet and perfect, his most nudging yours as he pulled back just a little. “You’re right. I’ll have to give her a ring about that.”

“You have her number?”

[wyldblunt]

For your whispers characters: best at going undercover, and who gets the most in character when under cover.

@commanderfloppy

YEYEASSSSS

donner - he's a natural. he's good at blending in, mirroring, and putting people at ease, has a quick wit and can always think on his feet, and only merrit and glyndwr are better than him at actual stealth (either magical or physical). the only problem is he gets cocky, and ends up getting distracted/fucking around/taking unnecessary risks pretty frequently. and he DOES love getting in character, it's fun for him.

merrit - okay i KNOWWWW i spend a lot of time making fun of him for how bad his undercover assignment in astorea went but in his defense he fell in love. if he is not literally in love with one of the people he's supposed to be undercover around he's actually really effective. better at going totally unnoticed than blending in, but takes none of the dumb risks that donner does, and is usually wayyyy better at actually staying focused on the mission than anyone else in the squad. merrit gets an extra paragraph here re: getting in character, tho... because in path of fire, HE'S the one who does the whole "pretending to be archon iberu" thing, and he. uh. gets way, WAY too into it.... because 1. he's high off the excitement of glyndwr trusting him with an operation this elaborate and important, and 2. after years of surviving under nightmare court office politics, all this bullshit passive aggressive "per my last email" shit is stuff he's INTIMATELY familiar with, and he gets a little too stoked about FINALLY being able to do it to other people. he was practically trembling with glee when he got to whip out that "your name WILL come up" shit, because he's been on the receiving end of that kind of evil corporate intimidation a billion times. and now it's HIS TURN. NOW IT'S MERRIT'S TURN TO THREATEN YOU AT WORK AS A WEIRD POWER PLAY. HOW DO *YOU* LIKE IT, HUH? I'M THE NIGHTMARE COUNTESS NOW! ME! ME!!!!!!! ...anyway, it leads to this interaction:

3. damage - honestly really good, especially at getting people to like her (and therefore getting away with shit or talking her way out of a corner), and she takes it more seriously than you would expect -- much like donner, she's disrespectful and insubordinate when she's off the clock, but once it's go time she really focuses in. the problem is her short term memory sucks ass, so especially in extended undercover missions where you have to keep track of a cover story/stay consistent in a bunch of interconnected lies, she's really likely to accidentally blow her cover by saying the wrong thing. will get into character if the role is fun, but if it's something boring she has a hard time keeping it up. 4. daimhin - they try REALLY HARD but it just doesn't come naturally to them. they overthink things, get nervous, and freak out. dav's real strength is in more straightforward field missions where they can flex some heavy arcana, not in anything that involves social skills -- at most, they're good for covering damage's aforementioned slipups by hitting everyone in the room with a quick rewind. but in general.... when it comes to undercover missions, daimhin is not invited. also, TERRIBLE at getting in character. 5. glyndwr - surprise! he sucks!!!! like merrit, his strengths lie in pure infiltration (not being noticed at all) vs actual undercover work (convincing people you're someone you're not), but merrit at least CAN do the latter. glyn is no good at it, he already hates performing any kind of social posturing at all -- and now that he's one of The Commanders, the idea of him going undercover without heavy disguises/mesmering is pretty bleak to begin with. he just can't inhabit the role of anyone else... he's Glyndwr, and you are going to end up able to tell.

[writerownstory]

hold my hand and I’ll squeeze it back

part 5/?

(read part one, two, three, and four.)

It turned out that being friends with Carrie wasn’t terrible.

It was weird, but not terrible. Carrie had inserted herself into their lives as if she had been there all along and while Flynn said it seemed fake, Julie was determined to give the girl the benefit of the doubt for Luke’s sake. After all, if she made Luke happy, who was she to stand in the way of that?

Carrie was also frequently featured in her FaceTime calls with Luke which at first Julie wasn’t a huge fan of, but as the days went on, and it wasn’t so bad.

They all hung out whenever Julie was home from school on the weekends and though she would’ve thought Carrie was above hanging out and just watching movies, she seemed pretty content to be with them.

Luke had left to make some popcorn when Carrie looked at her from the other end of the couch.

“Hey Julie, can I ask you something?”

It was a little forward, but not out of the norm for Carrie. “Uh yeah, sure.”

“Luke told me you don’t play music anymore. Is that true?”

Music was an unspoken taboo subject around Julie and it had been for the last few months. The thought of anything to do with it made her want to simultaneously curl in on herself in despair but also scream out in frustration because without her mom, what was the point of it all?

Carrie’s question had been blunt, though well intentioned—she thought—and the complete opposite of everyone else who had been tip-toeing around her. The only one who hadn’t was Luke, and it was only because he didn’t have to. And possibly coming from anyone else, Julie might’ve considered it a slap in the face. A few months ago, she would’ve definitely taken the question from Carrie as a low blow. But now, it was oddly… refreshing.

She would wonder why Carrie might not believe something Luke had told her/why Luke had told her later.

“Yeah, uh… I haven’t been able to play since my mom died.”

“Why’s that?”

It should’ve been an innocent question. Julie wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. But it was a question she hadn’t been able to answer even for herself. Anytime she even tried to put her fingers to the keys, it was as if she felt the weight of the loss of her mom all over again.

Julie shrugged uncomfortably, drawing her knees to her chest like a shield. “I just… can’t.”

“Do you think you’ll ever play again?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “It’s been really hard to have anything to do with music.”

Carrie tilted her head thoughtfully. “You don’t miss it?”

“Haven’t really given it much thought,” she lied. The whole concept terrified her, but she hadn’t admitted that out loud to anyone, not even Luke.

Carrie opened her mouth to respond, but Luke came back with the popcorn then, plopping himself between them. He raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking if she was okay.

Julie smiled weakly to reassure him and he turned back to the movie. She thought that was it, but without looking back at her, he gently took her arm and tugged until her head was resting comfortably on his shoulder.

She looked up at him again, only for him to throw popcorn in her face.

She immediately reached for the bowl, throwing some back at him. “Hey! Watch where you throw that stuff, Patterson!”

“You’re gonna miss the movie if you keep spacing out,” he told her.

To her surprise, Carrie tossed some at Luke too and judging by the way his jaw dropped, he hadn’t expected it either.

“She can’t watch with you throwing popcorn in her face either!” she teased which began a popcorn fight between the three of them with Julie and Carrie totally beating Luke at his own game.

And even though Flynn would later tell her over Facetime that it was weird—“She’s a demon, Jules. You don’t just grow out of that!”—Julie thought Carrie was pretty okay. All they had to do was get along anyway.

Right?

read part six.

[tryingmyves]

Girl All the Bad Guys Want

okay i won’t lie, i remembered this song exists and i could not get the idea of a badboy!iida out of my head

this is a bit self indulgent because i was definitely that girl in hs lmaoooo

anyhow hopefully y’all like it too

PAIRING: Iida x Y/N

cw: badboy!iida

✨ tagging the iida army: @coleluuviida + @saturnity + @peachiileaf ✨

You have a reputation at UA, mostly with the male students. It isn’t something you put effort into maintaining or even something you cultivated on purpose, but you’ve gained some notoriety amongst your peers. At first glance, you don’t seem too different from your female classmates. You certainly don’t feel superior or disparate from them, but you’ve also never quite felt like you belonged with them. You don’t excel at being soft and demure, and you refuse to shrink yourself down in order to make others more comfortable in your presence. You spit in the face of all the things typically expected of a lady. And frankly, you’re more than a bit awkward when you hangout with the girls from your class. They always invite you to their sleepovers and shopping trips, and try to engage you in their conversations, but you’re always worried about saying the wrong thing or accidentally offending them. You’re never really able to add anything of value when they talk about the boys in your class - a recurring subject. Mina knows everything about everyone in class; she loves to gossip. It’s like her horns serve as antennae and pick up on all the juiciest secrets. She is always interrogating the other girls about their crushes but you just never really felt that way about anyone. Honestly, you find the conversations about who likes who to be a bit boring. You typically end up hanging out with Bakugo, Kirishima, and the rest of that squad. Boys are just easier to be around. They don’t get offended at your crass comments and your sometimes gruff disposition looks outright friendly next to Bakugo. 

Your undeniably attractive appearance, unquestionable skill with your quirk, and nonchalant attitude have landed you in the sights of several of your fellow UA students. You are the embodiment of do no harm, but take no shit and something about you is intoxicating. Mina frequently jokes with you about how the entirety of the Bakusquad is duking it out to see who gets to ask you out first. You roll your eyes at her, convinced she’s imagining things. But in reality you’re just clueless. As cliché as it is, you really are the girl all the bad guys want. Too bad you didn’t want them back. 

What you didn’t expect with your tough exterior, competitive nature, and tendency to slack off on class work is that class rep, Tenya Iida, would want you too. God, not even he expected it but he had fallen hard. You frustrate him. You’re just as smart as Yaomomo or Todoroki, but you skate by in class. You don’t outwardly disrespect authority, but you won’t blindly accept orders just because someone says so. He thinks the rap metal music you listen to while training is abrasive and doesn’t understand why all your favorite artists sound like they’re mad at their fathers. He finally gave up on lecturing you on the fact that the fishnets you wear with your uniform are not regulation and he was still wrestling with how he felt about learning you were one of the students caught at a dorm party with alcohol a few weeks ago.  More than anything he hates that you’ve so effortlessly got him pining for you and you haven’t even noticed. Iida loves the rules! Order, structure, regulation - these are the things that Iida covets, so why was he craving the taste of your lips on his?

He is tired of silently lusting after you, and decides he’s going to try actively pursuing you instead. Tenya thinks that you like “bad boys” so as foreign as the concept is to him, he concludes he’s going to have to take on that persona. He starts off simply, making a playlist of songs he’s heard you blaring from your dorm. He eases himself into your music, starting with Linkin Park and Korn, before adding Incubus, Machine Head, and even some ICP to the mix. He’s hesitant at first… the music just sounds so hostile and aggressive to him. But soon he finds himself relishing the fierce energy the songs give him. Tenya gets why you train to this sort of music, his workouts becoming more intense than ever. They end in his chest heaving and his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His muscular calves throb vigorously after every run and he feels powerful. It gives him a new found confidence that he strategically channels into his interactions with you. For class today, Aizawa simply instructs you all to pair off and spar. You’re about to ask Sero to partner with you when he approaches. 

“Y/N. You’re with me.” Tenya doesn’t ask, he’s telling you you’re his partner. 

A small sound of surprise leaves your throat at his unexpected forcefulness, but you don’t question it. You just nod, giving a small shrug to Sero before following the class rep to a vacant spot of the training gym. 

You look over your challenger, rolling your head on your shoulders a few times to loosen up. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. You asked for this,” you smirk, bringing your fists up in a defensive stance. 

Before you can even blink, Tenya has closed the 10 foot gap between you, sweeping a long leg beneath yours in a circular motion, knocking you off your feet. You land with a thud on your back and the air in your lungs is forced out with a nmph. 

“Just try to keep up, Y/N.”

Oh, it’s on. Previously you found Iida’s flustered demeanor around you endearing. But this new, assertive, almost cocky disposition is irresistible. His momentum propels him in a circle while he stays anchored in place on his massive left thigh. As he finishes turning through the motion he reaches forward hoping to pin your arms to the ground, but you’re just getting started. You plant the palms of your hands on either side of your face and kick up from the ground with a boost from your quirk. The added flow of air thrusts your legs up and over your head so you are now standing once more. You are sure that the soles of your shoes connect with Iida’s face during your arch through the air. 

“It’s not going to be that easy, specs,” you taunt. Now it’s your turn. 

You launch yourself at Tenya, closing the small gap between the pair of you in an instant. He extends a locked arm to block your approach but you simply dip your head, gliding underneath and down the length of his limb until you are just one step behind him. You pivot on your right foot as you swing your left arm across your body. Your open palm lands just between Tenya’s shoulder blades, your natural momentum accompanied by a gale force wind. The impact knocks him off his feet and sends him toppling forward. Tenya’s speed is unmatched and his large frame is covered in tone muscle, but with the addition of the very air around you, your strikes are ferocious. Your air quirk aids in your mobility, but you’ve used it to master hand to hand combat. You dominate in tight quarters, so you just need to keep Tenya close. He’s already returned to his feet, calculating his next move. The moment ‘s hesitation creating an opening for your right shin to collide with his side. Tenya growls through gritted teeth in response to the blow and the feral vibrations send shivers down your spine. Instead of recoiling from your attack Tenya’s hands clamp onto your shoulders like vices. His brows are furrowed in smug determination, and he practically sneers “Recipro Burst!”

You are propelled backwards rapidly, the gym surrounding you flashing by in a blur, the only thing you're able to see clearly is the dark glint in Tenya’s eyes and the zealous grin on his lips. You try to activate your quirk to counter his momentum, but it’s futile, he is pushing you backwards so quickly you can’t manipulate any of the air whizzing past you. Your back is suddenly pinned to the back wall of the gym, Tenya’s large hands holding your slender wrists to the concrete wall. He places a muscular thigh between your legs so his left knee is pressed to the wall as well - he has you completely immobilized. Both of your chests are heaving, your faces no more than three inches from one another. You don’t know what possesses you but you smash your lips to his, desperate to close the miniscule gap between you.

Tenya’s body stiffens in shock for a moment before he opens his mouth, snaking his tongue past your lips. You wrench your hands from his grip, placing one on the back of his neck and tangling the other in the mess of his navy hair. You didn’t expect the class rep to be such an amazing kisser, but when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth you can’t contain the soft moan that escapes you. Tenya swallows your noises and begins to pull away. Your lips hungrily follow after him, but you’re stopped when one of his calloused hands rests on your neck with just enough force to hold you in place. 

“Such public displays of desire are unbecoming of future heroes, Y/N. Come to my room this evening and we can finish this privately.” And with that, Tenya separates himself from you completely, already settling into a stance that signals he is ready to continue sparring.    

[let-me-write-shit]

You writing is soo cool, you're amazing! I don't know if you are taking requests, but what about a famous Y/N and meets professor Harry and he is like "I don't want to teach you, you are famous" and she is like "you are going to teach me and fall in love with me😏" and well, idk the idea just came to my mind and I thought of you to write it hahaha. Love your writing, keep doing it 'cause you are great!

 Word Count: 9,443 LONG AS SHIIIIT

WARNING: FILTHY SMUT!!!!!!!! (I put ******** before and after the smut so you can skip if you’d like

A/N: Thank you SOO much to @mylittleangel9403 for this request and I’m SOOOO sorry it took so long. Turned out a lot longer than I anticipated. Not sure if you wanted this to be smutty, but I just couldn’t help myself. Also, shoutout to @gwenlovesharrystyles for the help on this imagine! Much appreciated!!Enjoy!

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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Friendly reminder to please like and/or reblog. It helps more than you think :)

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

Professor Styles

“Ma’am, respectfully, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Harry leaned forward in his chair, fingertips pressed together, aware of the large presence that sat beside him, his voice almost a whisper. “We’re already several classes deep, and as you know, my class is very difficult. She’ll be at a disadvantage going in, not to mention the students already in my class. The distraction isn’t fair for them.”

“Professor Styles, I don’t need to tell you how much this means to our University. I understand your concern, and I have every faith in you to help miss Y/L/N catch up to speed and keep your students in-check.”

He could feel the eyes of the famous singer on him as she uncrossed her legs and sat straighter in her chair. In his peripheral, he could see her burly manager, who stood in the back against a wall, take a step closer behind them like a bodyguard waiting to pounce. But for some reason, Harry had the distinct impression that Y/N could do without protection. He thought she was tough enough.

“Sir,” Y/N spoke softly and respectfully. Harry turned, seeing a reflection of yellow in her eyes as the sun shone through the window onto them, and he couldn’t help but think she was putting on an act for the Dean. “I know that the circumstances are...unusual. But, I promise I will do everything in my power to not cause any distraction in your class. I’ll sit in the back if that helps. Whatever it takes.”

The young professor took a deep breath, taking in her words. He looked around the room in thought, feeling everyone’s attention on him all the while. Some of the rumors about her seemed to ring true. Y/N had this energy about her that made it difficult to focus or think straight. She hardly took her eyes off of him throughout this entire meeting.

Harry sighed in defeat and nodded, “Alright. I trust she’ll be given the syllabus and information on everything she’ll need for my class?” he asked the Dean.

But before the Dean could respond, Y/N chirped, “I’ve already gotten it and I’m prepared to start next week.”

“Well, that’s settled, then,” the Dean grinned, victoriously, “Welcome to our school, Miss Y/L/N. Unless you have any more questions, you are free to go.”

Y/N stood up with a smile, followed by the Dean and professor. She stuck out a hand and shook them, saying, “Thank you so much. I look forward to starting on Tuesday.”

Her burly manager opened the door for her and she began to make her way out. And as Harry collected his things to leave, the Dean quipped, “Oh, Professor Styles. Before you head to your next class, I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”

Harry watched as Y/N closed the door behind her, almost certain he saw a wink, before setting his things back down and taking a seat once more. He listened as the Dean encouraged him to do all that he can to ensure Y/N had a good experience here, explaining how big of a deal this was and how Y/N taking his class might encourage more students to enroll.

Harry listened, respectfully, but wanted nothing more than to roll his eyes. It annoyed him that he was expected to baby Y/N and bend to her will solely because she was a rich and famous singer, and he refused to play a part in that. If she wanted success in his class, she would need to earn it just like the rest of his students.

When they finished their conversation, he was already running late for his next class. Again, he collected his things and made his way out of the office. As he speed-walked through the administration, he was surprised to see Y/N still there, sat on a chair beside her burly manager, talking. When she noticed him, she instantly jumped to her feet and raced up to him.

“Hey,” she said, simply, keeping his pace as they continued out of the administration building and into the main campus.

“I’m running late to my next class, Miss Y/L/N. Did you have a question, or can this wait?”

Her voice was so flippant that it bordered arrogance, “Just wanted to thank you again for letting me join your class this late into the semester.”

“It’s not me you should thank. I don’t agree with it and I won’t baby you. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I suggest you start reading your books so you’re not lost in my next class. Your classmates have worked hard to get to where they are and I’d hate for you to be the reason for a halt in their progress.”

“I think you’ll find that not to be the case.”

She was so smug that it caught him off guard. The looming of her large manager two paces behind him as they hustled down the walkway was even more noticeable now, along with the many whispers and stares as they continued. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, perplexed.

He debated whether to ask, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. Not wanting to show any sign of weakness or that he’d entertain her malarky. But his curiosity got the better of him.

“Miss Y/L/N, why are you taking my class?”

“Why not?” she smirked in response.

He sighed, annoyed that he was even going along with this, “We both know you don’t need to go to school, especially for Advanced Musical Theory. Why are you only taking my class?”

Her voice was softer and more sincere this time as she spoke, “I’ve always been interested in Music Theory and wanted to take it before my career kicked off. And I heard you were one of the best teachers in your field.”

For a split second, in that moment of sincerity, he thought he might have just seen her, the real her, behind all the fame and money and act. But her innocence faltered as she quickly shuffled in front of him, making Harry fumble to a stop.

Her eyes were more seductive now as she hushed, “Besides, I heard about how hot you were and I needed to see it for myself. And I’m not disappointed,” she looked at him through her eyelashes.

Harry could feel the warmth rise to his cheeks, extremely aware of her manager’s presence behind him and the few students nearby, staring. He was sure his face was bright red right now as Y/N’s smirk only seemed to grow.

Harry was aware of his reputation around campus for being the ‘hot teacher’. He wasn’t a stranger to the gossip or the occasional student trying to make a pass at him. And, honestly, his ego enjoyed it. But he’d never crossed that line with a student before and she would be no exception.

He did his best to compose himself and continued past her, Y/N following behind, “I’ll ignore that and just give you fair warning,” he started, “My class is hard and you will not be given special treatment just because you’re famous. I promised the dean I’d get you caught up, and I will. Your class is every Tuesday, and you can meet me in my office after each lesson for an hour for the next few weeks until we get you up-to-date on what you’ve missed. I will not play into your games.”

“Yes, Sir,” she pouted, teasingly, and again, jumped in front of him, holding a hand out and smiling, “Looking forward to next Tuesday.”

Harry looked at her suspiciously, pausing for a moment before ultimately giving in and taking her hand in his. But before he could respond, she pulled herself closer to him. So close that she was practically whispering in his ear.

“But just to warn you, not only will I ace your class, but by the end of the semester, I’ll make you call in love with me.”

Her breath was so hot and her words were so unexpected that he stood there, stunned, while she pulled away, winked, and walked back towards her bodyguard, heading back from where they just came from. She waved to a few students that recognized her, and she looked back once to blow a discreet kiss before she rounded a corner and was out of sight.

Harry watched after her, stunned at her assertiveness while people were watching. But he shook it off and continued to his class, mentally preparing himself to break the news to his students.

The anxiety in the week leading up to the start of Y/N’s first official day in Professor Styles’ class was becoming more frequently accompanied by the Dean’s constant checking in on him to make sure everything was ready, more students visiting or showing up to class, and even more excited whispers. Harry, on the other hand, did his best to push it aside, not getting what all the fuss was about.

He had done his best to prepare his students for their newly joined classmate, even sending out mass reminder emails to those in his class to please be courteous and warning them to avoid distraction. But when he pulled up to the school that day, he noticed more students than normal just hanging around, scanning all over campus like they were scouting for something.

Harry quickly realized that they were waiting to catch a glimpse at the famous singer and he snorted, rolling his eyes. Kids were so predictable. He slipped his lanyard with his ID around his neck, grabbed hold of his coffee and briefcase, and got out of his car, heading towards his classroom.

The Professor smiled and nodded at the students that greeted him in the hallway, proud that he knew each of them by name, continuing to his class. He knew his students would already be there, by now. Harry was usually always a few minutes late and he assumed that it gave his students more than enough time to ogle their new addition to the class.

But, when Harry rounded the corner and saw Y/N leaning up against the wall, arms crossed and alone, his nerves increased.

“Harry,” Y/N beamed when she spotted him, practically skipping over to him.

Harry raised his eyebrows, clearing his throat, “It’s Professor Styles,” he warned, earning a sarcastic nod while he continued, “Why are you not in class?”

“I thought we could go in together since I’m new.”

“I’m your professor, not your babysitter. Go on in next time,” he said as they approached the door. Before turning the knob, he paused and faced her, “While you’re here, I’ll explain to you what I explained to them on the first day. I’m a pretty easy-going teacher because I know how hard this class can be. You can eat in my class, you can have your phones out, you can come in wearing pajamas, I don’t care. However, the biggest rule in my class is that you treat people with kindness. We do not judge in this class. We don’t interrupt people or talk over others, we don’t make others feel inferior. My class is a safe space for people to be their authentic selves and we respect that. Can you do that?”

Y/N’s stance softened and she grinned, nodding, “Yes. I can do that.”

“Good,” Harry nodded, “I’d like you to take a seat towards the back of the class for today if you don’t mind. I’d rather they pay attention to me than the back of your head.”

“Whatever you say, Professor,” Y/N exaggerated his title, her lips twitching up in a lopsided smile.

He looked down at her for a moment, narrowing his eyes, trying to size her up, before he gave in and turned the knob to his class. The buzz from his students loudly chattering amongst each other instantly stopped when he walked in, closely followed by the singer. Harry vaguely noticed that not only was every single one of his students present, but they all looked slightly more put-together than normal. He snorted under his breath, dropping his briefcase on his desk, taking a sip from his coffee cup, and placing that down, as well.

“Morning!” He called out, earning a chorus of greetings in return. He gestured towards Y/N who was making her way up the steps towards the back of the class, “I’m sure you all know who this is. We are incredibly lucky to welcome Y/N in joining us this year.”

Y/N stopped climbing the steps to smile brightly and wave obscurely at everyone, “Hi!”

Harry nodded towards her to keep moving. She rolled her eyes, playfully, and continued while he explained, “I know we’re all excited to have her here, but I want to remind everyone that while we’re in the room, we’re all students, and that includes Y/N. Let’s all focus on what we’re here for, so we don’t get lost when mid-terms get here, yeah?”

After another muttering of agreeance, Harry noticed Y/N getting settled in the back and he nodded, starting the lecture, “Okay, what I’d like to do is a one-minute warm-up on today’s exploration on duple and triple meter. So, I need everyone to stand up.”

The rustling of chairs echoed and screeched as students got to their feet. Soon, they were marching along to Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds by The Beatles, everyone laughing and feet stomping on the ground. He felt proud, seeing all the smiling, attentive faces in his direction and happy that throughout the lesson, nearly everyone had seemed to grasp everything that he was saying.

But, each time he glanced up in Y/N’s direction, he noticed that not only had she not even so much as picked up a pencil or opened her laptop, she had not looked away from him even once. He made a mental note to reprimand her after class and continued on.

When the lesson came to an end, Harry thanked the class for their cooperation and the students began to pack up their belongings. He watched as Y/N was met by a group of kids who were considered to be more ‘popular’ around campus. He saw her friendly smiles, but could barely hear her over the noise.

Once Harry managed to gather his things and toss his now-empty coffee cup in the trash, he approached the group, earning a pleasant round of hello’s by the students. One of the girls, Jesse, made sure to bat her eyelashes a little more and lean closer than necessary as she spoke.

“Great lesson today, Professor Styles. I did have a few questions about musical texture and was wondering if we could meet privately so I could get some more clarity on that?” she asked, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers.

Harry was used to Jesse’s incessant attempts at flirting with him and getting him alone, but he never took the bait, “I’m sorry, Jesse, I have no free office hours available, right now. But please shoot me an email with all of your questions and I’ll gladly help you out.” He heard sniggering from her friends as her face shifted into disappointment and he turned to Y/N, “Miss Y/L/N, when you’re done here, please meet me in my office so I can get you caught up.”

“Yes, Professor, I’ll be right there.”

He waited twenty minutes before he finally heard a knock on the door. He had half a mind to ignore it and let her stand out there, annoyed that he was wasting time trying to help an entitled celebrity who clearly had no interest in his class. What was the point? But, he thought back to the Dean, and reluctantly made his way to the door.

“Your students seem to really like you,” she confidently walked in, taking a seat on top of his desk and tossing her bag on one of the chairs, crossing her legs. “Especially that girl, what’s her name? Jesse?”

Harry blinked and slightly shook her head back before closing the door and rounding the desk she sat on towards his chair, not bothering to give the statement a response. But that didn’t stop her from continuing, “She’s like, in love with you. Well, maybe not in love. But you definitely make her horny.”

“Y/N!” You shoot back at the brassiness.

“She’s hot, I’ll give her that. But she’s definitely got that ‘daddy money’ vibe to her. She and her friends invited me to a party next weekend. And that kid, Mark, gave me his number. He’s pretty hot, too. Looks like some kind of jock.”

Harry nodded, shuffling his papers, “He’s here on a full-ride soccer scholarship.”

“Damn, I’m good,” Y/N leaned back, pressing her palms flat against the top of his desk, impressed with herself.

Harry looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. He wished he could say that her confidence astounded him, but honestly, he wasn’t that surprised. He could hazard a guess that her success was probably all handed to her. She joked about another student being given ‘daddy’s money’, but if he had to guess, she was probably the same.

He set the stack of papers down beside where she sat on his desk and looked up at her with a sigh, “Miss Y/L/N, my desk is not a chair. Please have a seat.”

She slithered down off the desk and plopped in a chair opposite him, scooting it closer and crossing her arms on the top, waiting for him to speak.

He relaxed his shoulders and continued, “You didn’t participate much in class today.”

“Well, you told me not to be a distraction.”

“Yes, but you’re still a part of the class. I expect more participation from you in the next class. And that includes note-taking. You won’t pass my class from memory. For now, I need to get you caught up.

Harry spent the next hour trying to get her caught up on the very first day of his class, which she interrupted every ten minutes, or so, going off-topic or asking very personal questions like ‘do you have a girlfriend?’ or ‘how many students have you been with?’ None of which he answered. When there were about ten minutes left in their time together, Y/N interrupted for the eighth time that hour and Harry groaned, unsure that she had retained any of the information he had provided her so far.

“What made you want to do this? Teach Musical Theory?”

He looked up at her and paused for a moment and she stared at him, her head cocked to the side. She looked genuinely interested, and it wasn’t often that he got asked these questions. He decided he’d entertain her, just this once.

Harry slid the paperwork away from him and sat back in his seat, “I’ve just always been interested in music since I was a kid.”

“Yeah, so have I. That’s why I became a musician. There are so many jobs in the musical field, why music theory?”

“Well, I am a musician. Not as big as you, obviously, but I have a small band and we play gigs around town. But the more I deep dove into music and the history behind it, the more I got into musical theory. It was a hobby and a passion before it was a career. And I guess I just wanted to show people how fun and interesting it could be.”

Y/N nodded, seeming content with his answer before saying, “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a good teacher.”

“You’ve only been in one class,” he chuckled, sitting up again and straightening out his papers once more.

She giggled, “Yes, but it doesn’t take long to know when a teacher is good or not. I see the way you interact with your students and hear the way they talk about you. Everyone seems to love you. It’s part of the reason why I chose to come here.”

“My reputation precedes me?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Something like that,” she grinned, before softly speaking, “You know, we’re not all that different, you and I. I’ve been passionate about music for as long as I remember,” she laughed and said, “I remember when I was seven years old my mom took me to the library and I must have read at least six books, cover to cover, about Chopin. I knew everything about him and even named my pet rabbit after him. Everyone thought I was crazy.”

“Classical music?” Harry questioned, surprised.

She nodded, sitting up, “I’ve played piano since I was two.”

Harry pursed his lips, nodding his head, “Never judge a book by its cover.”

They stared at each other for a moment, silence filling the room. She looked more innocuous now; harmless as she sat with one leg crossed over the other. By this small conversation she had, she could see bits of himself in her eyes and it made him bring his guard down. For a moment, he was fascinated.

But her expression changed, more curious, as she asked, “So, how many lucky girls get the chance to have this one-on-one time with hottie Professor Styles?”

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples, “You exhaust me.”

“Or guys, I’m not judging,” she shrugged, “Though that would totally suck for Jesse. She’s really crushing.”

“I’ve never dated a student and I never will,” he said blandly.

“Never say never,” she smirked, “Why not?”

“Because they’re kids and it’s inappropriate.”

“Kids?” she snorted, “You’re barely four years older than most of your students. And everyone is of legal age.”

“I am not having this conversation with you,” he said, packing his things, “Our time is up. I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you in class next week.”

She grinned, gathering her things together and following him towards the door. As he reached for the door handle, she quickly put a hand on top of his, stopping him from turning it and making him look down at her as she said, “Don’t forget, Professor. Never say never.”

He watched as she opened the door and slipped out, turning her head once to wink back at him before she rounded a corner.

Harry found himself nervous and somehow anxious for the following week to arrive. It was the first time for years he had gotten there before any of his students. Every time the door opened and a student arrived, surprised by his early presence, he noticed he would jump and whip his head in the direction of the door. He tried to tell himself that he was just jittery or had too much coffee this morning, but he knew that wasn’t the reason.

When Y/N walked through the door, he felt his heart start to race.

“Good morning, Professor,” she smirked at him as she made her way up the steps towards the back of the class.

He nodded but didn’t respond. He felt stupid for not knowing what to say. There were so many options; hi, hello, how are you? Nothing. Harry watched out of the corner of her eye as she made a dramatic show of pulling out a notebook and a pen, sitting back in her chair and propping her legs up on the desk, making her short skirt slip up her thigh even more, waiting while she tapped her pen on the paper while the other arm was crossed over her stomach and her thumb grazed against her mouth.

He shook his head, pretending to search his briefcase for something as more students started to arrive, annoyed at himself for letting her get to him. In his four years of teaching, this had never been a problem before. How was she doing it?

Y/N waved as the group of kids she was seen talking to at the end of the last class squeezed in and they all excitedly waved back, making their way back to the seats in the row in front of her, spinning in their seats to talk. He wondered what they were talking about each time he saw her laugh or look down at him and hold eye contact.

The lecture started smoothly. He had them do another goofy exercise to get them ready for the class and was able to keep everyone’s attention as he explained notes and scales. Harry noticed the singer scribbling down in her notebook and was relieved to see she was taking notes this time. But what shocked him, even more, was her participation. The Professor, although known to make teaching and learning fun, was also known to ask a lot of hard questions throughout the class. Most, of which, the students rarely knew the answers to. That’s why he was surprised to see Y/N’s hand raised after nearly every question he asked, and even more taken back when her answers were right. Every single time.

Students began to become amused, automatically looking in between the two when a question would arise, and giggling at the incredulous expression on his face when she had, yet again, gotten the answer right. If he didn’t know any better, he would bet that by next week the class would turn it into some kind of a drinking game. He could have sworn he saw Y/N giggle under her breath and even blow a kiss.

After class, once again, Y/N was grouped on the steps by the rows of desks with Jesse, Mark, and their other friends. Y/N would twirl her hair and smile towards Mark and seemed to have him wrapped around her finger, but Harry also noticed how she’d look over Mark’s shoulder at him and bite her lip. She knew he’d be watching, and he hated himself for it.

Quickly, he packed his things and left the room, heading to his office to wait for her there, wondering what they were talking about. He closed the office door behind him, tossed his briefcase on the floor beside the paper shredder, and decided against turning the lights on. He blamed it on a splitting migraine, but it was really because there were too many intrusive thoughts running through his mind that he was doing everything he could to ease it, including pacing the room.

The attempts, however futile, were short lived. Minutes later there was a soft knock on the door and Y/N emerged, closing the door behind her, strutting right past him, and plopping on top of his desk again.

“How was that for participation, Harry?” she asked, propping a foot on the arm of his chair which made her skirt shimmy up her thigh just enough that if he were to look, he was sure he’d be able to see what she was wearing underneath.

He took a gulp and fought hard not to look down, lightly pushing her leg off of the arm of his chair so that both of her legs now hung down, taking a seat and crossing his arms, “It’s Professor Styles, and you did very well in class today, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Told you that I’d be a good student,” but her smile turned devilish as she spread her legs apart further and bent down closer to him, “But I can be bad if you’d like.”

“Please get off my desk and take a seat, Y/N. We’ve still got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Whatever you say, Professor,” she exaggerated, slowly slipping off of his desk and rounding to the other side.

Again, Harry tried his best to catch her up on lessons she missed, but it hardly seemed to get anywhere with Y/N’s constant interruption of inconsequential questions and arbitrary thoughts that seemed to almost pour out of her mouth without thought. He couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath a few times. She wasn’t boring, he’ll give her that much.

The more she fought against his attempts at teaching her, the more he realized that they weren’t going to get anywhere unless he gave her a little of what she wanted. So when she asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?” he sighed and ran his finger through his hair, giving in.

“No, I don’t. And why do you insist on coming to these meetings if you aren’t going to pay attention?”

“I am paying attention. You were talking about themes and motives of the piano and violin in Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony,” she said, confidently, crossing her arms, “I just think that it would be easier to come to class and learn if I knew my teacher a little better.”

He rolled his eyes at this attempt, but a smile crept on his face anyway, “What do you want to know?”

She smiled, sitting up, eagerly, “Well, it’s good to know you’re single. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

He sighed, uncertain why he was even taking part in this conversation, “A little over a year.”

“And you haven’t tried again since?”

He shrugged, “I’ve been busy.”

“Or you were heartbroken.”

The response stung a little. She was right. And that annoyed him even more. How did she do this? Get under his skin so easily? Instead of answering that, he retorted with, “Well, what about you? You’re obviously single, otherwise, you wouldn’t be flirting so much with your professor or the soccer star.”

Her smirk stretched wider, “Oh, are we jealous of Mike?”

He scoffed, grabbing the few pieces of paper off of his desk and attempting to organize it in the side filing cabinet, “No, I’m not jealous of a student.”

“Mhmm. Well, for your information we were just talking about the party they’re having this weekend.”

He tried his best to look confused, although he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that party since she mentioned it last week, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, it’s on Saturday. Not sure if I’m going yet. I’m sure my manager and PR would have my head if I was caught getting sloppy at a college party. Not good for the image,” she whispered, rolling her eyes.

He shrugged, “College parties aren’t all that great, anyway.”

“I’m sure,” she said sarcastically, “Anyway, I have a concert the night before, so I’m usually exhausted by the next day. You should come.”

“To your concert?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow, skeptically, “Unless you don’t like my music?”

Harry shrugged, “I haven’t really heard much of it,” he lied, “but my sister’s a big fan.”

“Well, I’ll put you down for a plus-one. As long as it’s just your sister.”

Harry felt a lump beginning to form in his throat and he shook his head, “I already have plans for Friday. But thanks, anyway.”

She shook her head, nonchalantly, “Well, offer still stands if your plans fall through.”

He tried his best to reroute the conversation back on topic and was thankful that she seemed to finally go along with it. But as it neared the end of the hour, he felt her eyes on his face more and more. He looked up in the middle of his sentence and froze when he saw her eyes on his. She seemed entranced and almost out of it. And something seemed to pull him into the same trance as her.

It was the first good look at her that he had gotten since their first meeting. Her skin looked soft and her eyes sparkled when the sun’s rays shone on them at just the right angle. He hadn’t noticed until now that the bridge of her nose was slightly elongated and somehow endearing. And her lips. Those lips.

Y/N shook her head and stood up. It was the first time that she seemed to be caught off guard, and that stroked his ego a bit. He glanced down at his watch and noticed that they had run overtime and he gasped. She seemed to realize, too. Hurriedly, they both began to collect their things, but in the frenzy, she accidentally flicked her pen off the desk and it ricocheted on his side, landing on the floor near his briefcase.

“Oh!” he heard her mutter, rounding the desk where they both hastily attempted to grab it.

Harry was the first to grab it and as they both stood up, they were face to face with each other, inches away. They froze, again, unable to move. He saw something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before; nervousness. Y/N was always such a confident force, and to see her any less than that admittedly made him gratified, like he had obtained a victory. But he, himself, was losing the battle. She was breaking him down one wink at a time, and he had never felt so weak in his life.

He could feel the strain of his desire pulling him closer towards her, the gloss on her lips looked enticing. If no one stopped him soon, he wasn’t sure if he could hold off much longer. He saw her eyes begin to flutter shut as the gap between them closed. Her sweet, minty breath swirled in front of his lips, he could almost taste it. And then a loud knock on the door echoed around his office.

Y/N flew against the wall while Harry awkwardly knocked his elbow against the back filing cabinet just as Jesse haughtily belted into the room. Her wide smile slowly screwed up into trepidation at the awkward tension that filled the room as the professor and singer avoided eye contact with each other.

“Jesse!” Harry quickly spoke, “What can I help you with?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d be finished. I just had a few questions about the essay, but I can just email you.”

“No, no, it’s fine, come in. Y/N was just on her way out.”

“Okay, cool,” Jesse smiled, stepping in further and placing her things on the chair opposite his desk.

Harry watched as the two girls exchanged friendly smiles, but he could see the slight embarrassment behind Y/N’s as she made her way towards the door.

“Don’t forget about this weekend!” Jesse called out after her, “I’ve never seen Mark so excited for a party before.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Y/N faked a laugh, sharing one last concerned look with Harry before closing the door behind her on the way out.

All week he found himself analyzing all of the occurrences that led up to him and Y/N almost kissing. He debated his sentiments, trying to logic every feeling of vulnerability and affection away with a simple explanation. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to pay attention to his work, constantly stumbling over his words of forgetting what he was talking about. When his class ended early on Friday afternoon and he sat in silence in his apartment, he stared at the blank television screen, contemplating whether or not he should take up her offer to attend her concert.

He paced the floor, opened and closed the fridge, tried to scroll through his social media apps, or read a book, anything to keep her mind off of her. He picked his phone up and stared at the home screen for a few minutes, constantly unlocking it when it got dark. With a final sigh, he opened it once more and dialed a number, putting it up to her ear.

“Hello, ya nimrod. What’s going on?” He heard his sister’s voice ring through the other end.

“How do you feel about going to a Y/N Y/L/N concert tonight?”

“You serious? Tonight? Bloody hell, yeah, I’ll go!”

“I’ll pick you up in two hours.”

Time only seemed to drag for Harry, left with nothing but his thoughts. It was enough time to go back and forth on whether or not he was making the right decision. Ultimately, he decided to go. He had already invited Gemma and he would feel guilty for bailing after getting her hopes up.

The sun was beginning to set and Gemma was singing loudly to Y/N’s lyrics in the passenger seat beside him. His palms were sweaty, gripped tight against the steering wheel. As the song ended, Gemma turned the volume down and turned to her younger brother.

“How did you get Y/N Y/L/N tickets, anyway? I didn’t know you listened to her like that.”

“I don’t, really. I mean, I’ve heard a few songs. But she’s my student and invited us to come.”

“She’s your student?” Gemma laughed, amused, “Cut the shit, Harry. How? Did you win them on the radio or something?”

“I’m serious. She’s taking my class.”

“What?” Gemma gasped, “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t think to.”

“You didn’t think to tell me that one of my favorite singers is a student of yours?” Gemma clarified. Eyebrows furrowed, she sat back and huffed, “Some brother you are.”

“Hey, now! I’m bringing you to her concert, aren’t I?”

The walk up to the ticket booth was one of the most humiliating things he had ever experienced as he uncomfortably explained who he was and that he was invited by the singer, herself. It took two people and a member of her staff to vouch for him before he and his sister were escorted through the venue and entered the pain event area through a private entrance that led them towards a VIP barricade towards the front of the stage. Thousands of screaming fans surrounded them, and Gemma looked around, shocked at the scene.

“This is insane!” Gemma shouted in his ear, bouncing on the balls of her toes.

Harry had to admit, it was pretty cool to see all of these people here for Y/N. He felt a sort of pride for her that he wasn’t quite expecting. And it didn’t take long for the lights to dim and the music to start.

He heard her before he saw her, and he felt his heart start to race again. He tried to play it off by the screams and the thumping bass, but when she finally came into view, he felt like he had been bolted to the floor, unable to move or talk or even smile. He was just stunned. Seeing her on stage was surreal. He knew of her, first, but it was hard for him to dissociate ‘student’ Y/N from ‘famous’ Y/N.

When they caught eyes and she realized he had come, a smile stretched across her face behind the microphone. He couldn’t help but mirror her, his shoulders relaxing as he managed a gentle wave. She walked closer to them on the stage, singing down at them, and he could hear his sister repeating ‘Oh my god, oh my god’ beside him as Y/N waved back in their direction.

Y/N was talented, there was no denying it. And the way that she interacted with her fans, you could tell that she was grateful for every second of it. It was touching. She was knocking down his assumptions about her little bit by little bit. He always thought that she’d be a spoiled, ungrateful celebrity, but that seemed to be completely false.

By the end of the concert, he had eased up and began to jump around, goofily, with his sister while Y/N watched, dancing around on stage, laughing and singing. Finally, the burly manager he had seen on the first day of their meeting with the Dean had approached him and his sister, informing them that they were invited backstage and to follow him.

His nerves began to rise in his chest again as they wove down several corridors until eventually, they stood before a door with Y/N’s name taped on it. The manager knocked loudly and waited a moment before they heard her voice on the other side call out, “Come in!”

With a turn of the knob, Y/N was now seen. She was in a new, more casual change of clothes and her hair was now up, but with visible beads of sweat lining her forehead and neck, she took a long swig of water.

“Hi!” she called, capping her drink and beckoning the two in, “Come in, come in! I’m so glad you came!”

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you,” Gemma tip-toed closer to her, smiling coyly as the door was closed behind them.

“It’s nice to meet you, too!” Y/N grinned, giving Gemma a much-wanted hug, “Please tell me you’re Harry’s sister.”

“Yes, I’m Gemma, his older sister.”

“Oh, thank god. I was worried he’d bring a date,” Y/N said, boldly, “He’s been playing hard-to-get.”

“You’re interested in my brother?” Gemma asked, astounded, “You’re way out of his league.”

Harry’s mouth fell open as Y/N laughed, “Yeah, and you’d think that’d be enough for him, wouldn’t you? But apparently he’s got standards,” she hyperbolized, rolling her eyes.

For an hour, Harry watched and laughed as Y/N and his sister talked and got to know each other more. They made jokes at his expense, and exchanged stories from their childhoods, shocked by how similar they seemed.

“You grew up around here, right?” Gemma asked the singer, taking a sip from her second beer of the night.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, about fifteen minutes from here.” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, knowing the only residential area in a fifteen-mile radius wasn’t exactly known to be the best neighborhood. Y/N seemed to gather his thoughts, further explaining, “It wasn’t always easy. My siblings and I were cramped in a two bedroom apartment and we didn’t have our own phones until well into our teens. I missed out on a lot growing up, but my parents did their best. We had everything we needed. I was lucky to be able to get all this and get them out of that apartment. My parents deserved a big house and a yard. I owed them that much.”

“How did you do it? How did you get to this point?” Harry asked, astounded.

Y/N shrugged, “Right place, right time. I was found singing at the mall for a small gig at a Christmas event. The rest is hard work and history.”

Harry shook his head, speechless. He felt guilty for passing judgment on her before, assuming that it was all handed to her and that she had got her start because of her parents' connections. She was self-made, smart, and deserving of every bit of success that came her way.

After one more round of beers, it was getting time for them to leave. Harry could see the excitement in her sister’s eyes start to be replaced by fatigue, and as much as he wanted to stay and talk some more, he knew he had to get a jump start on grading papers.

He set his empty bottle of beer down and Y/N frowned, “Time to go?”

“Yeah, should probably head out,” Harry nodded, pausing for a moment and taking in the frown on her face. He didn’t have time to think before he blurted out, “Want to join us for the ride?”

Her eyebrows raised and her lips twitched up into a smile, “Yeah, sure.”

Gemma let Y/N take the passenger seat and Harry felt tense as he drove, hand shifting the gears right beside her leg. He smiled every time he heard her laugh, though he couldn’t quite pay attention to what the girls were talking about. He was able to gather that they exchanged phone numbers before he reached Gemma’s house. His sister gave them both kisses on the cheek before bounding up the steps to her home.

The silence was deafening and Harry was certain she could hear him gulp as he turned to her and asked, “Where to?”

He knew what she was going to say. He didn’t need to ask. But to hear it come out of her mouth was something almost too much to handle, “Your place.”

He reversed out of the driveway, barely croaking out, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” she asked, turning towards him.

“You’re still my student.”

“So? We can just talk.”

Harry turned and looked at her, giving her a knowing look, “You know it’s not to just talk.”

“Why can’t it be? You don’t have any self-restraint? Is it because you like me?”

Harry felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he fumbled out a, “No.”

“Well then, what’s the problem?”

“......Fine.”

There wasn’t another word uttered for the rest of the journey to his place and he began to overthink. Was his apartment clean? Had he done the dishes? How messy was his room? Did it smell? He knew he should have gotten that diffuser from the store last week.

His nerves rose as he led her up to his apartment complex, pushing the door open and flicking on the lights, breathing a sigh of relief to see that it was, for the most part, fairly tidy. Y/N walked past him, scanning the scene, and as he locked the door he also held his breath, waiting for her to say something.

“Nice view,” she noted, briefly looking out of the window before turning to face him.

He tossed his keys on the entry table and motioned towards the kitchen to his left, “Drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Tea? Coffee? Water?”

“Water’s fine,” she said, making her way towards his living room.

He took the moment to catch his breath, trying to regain control of his thoughts before joining Y/N on his couch, handing her the drink. They both took a swig and he felt her eyes bearing holes into him, again.

When he set his drink down, he turned to her, “You’re very intense, you know.”

She smirked, leaning into the couch some more, “Yeah. I just know what I want.”

“And what’s that.”

“You.”

The immediate response caught him off-guard, but he wasn’t surprised by the answer. At this point, he knew exactly what she wanted, and was only feeding his ego more. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by her and hadn’t thought about the same, but a part of him liked the chase.

He chuckled, sitting back, “You’re my student.”

She moved closer to him, more energetic this time, “I just happen to be into Musical Theory, that’s all.”

“You’re still my student,” he grinned, amused, patting her leg.

“So, what if I drop out? Would that change anything?”

Harry’s grin faded and his hand stayed where it was, resting on her thigh. He stared into her shining eyes again, seeing the seriousness behind them, and he froze, unsure of what to say. Would it change anything if she dropped out of his class? He wasn’t sure it would even need to come to that if she kept looking at him like that any longer.

His eyes flickered from her eyes, to her lips, and back up to her eyes as she waited for a response. He debated whether or not to just give in and kiss her right there. She wanted it, he wanted it, why keep fighting it? There weren’t any rules against relationships with students at his University, not like they’d even fight him on this one; they’re the ones that basically told him to give her everything she wanted.

But when he didn’t respond, Y/N pulled back away. He slumped, kicking himself for not pulling a move sooner. And after a moment of silence, she asked, “Hey, is it okay if I use your shower, real quick? I’m still sweaty from the show and I feel gross. I can take an uber home afterward.”

A million thoughts ran through his mind. Was that a move? Or an invite? Should he ask to join her? Why did she have to leave? He could drive her home, she didn’t need to take an Uber. But the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Uh, yeah, sure.”

He showed her to the bathroom and went to grab her a towel from the linen closet as she adjusted the knobs and stuck her hand under the flow of water, gauging the temperature. By the time he got back in, she seemed happy with the warmth of the flow and took her hair out of its bun, placing the hair tie on the edge of his sink. He hung the grey towel on the rack beside the shower.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he muttered.

She smiled, “Thanks,” and before he was fully out of the room, she began to pull at the ends of her shirt. Quickly, he scurried out of the bathroom and closed the door to give her privacy.

Once out, his hands shot up to his forehead and he crouched, mumbling to himself a frustrated, “Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you? Idiot!”

He sat impatiently on his couch, waiting for her to finish. When he heard the screech of the knobs turning and the pressure from the water fade, he shifted his position and quickly forced his attention elsewhere, trying to act casual. But when he heard the creak of the door opening, he turned his attention to see Y/N standing in the doorway, bathroom light glowing behind her, hair rang out and damp, clutching the towel around her body.

His eyes widened a bit as she spoke, “Do you have clothes I can borrow? Mine are still covered in sweat.”

“Uh, yeah, probably. In my room,” he stammered, getting to his feet and leading the way to his bedroom.

She followed, her feet lightly padding the wood floors. He felt almost embarrassed to have her in his bedroom. He wasn’t sure why, it’s not like it was dirty and he didn’t have anything oddities displayed, still, it was an intimate space, and to have her there felt personal.

He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser where he kept his pajamas and motioned towards it, standing up straight, “You can borrow anything from here.”

She bent down in front of him to rummage through, giving him a better look at her back. It looked clean, soft, and supple as droplets of water still lined her back and dripped from the ends of her hair, getting absorbed by the thin white towel she had wrapped around her. When she stood up, he took a step back and she turned, holding one of his oversized white t-shirts and a pair of his plaid pajama pants.

He stood there, unable to move as she stared at him, raising an eyebrow. And still, as she tossed the clothes on the bed behind him, he found himself, once again, rooted to the spot. A smirk started to form on her face and her voice was soft and playful as she spoke.

“How’s that self-restraint going?” she teased.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just looked at her. And when her playful smile began to shift into something more alluring, he held his breath, watching as she untucked the towel around her chest and let it fall to the ground. His eyes instantly dropped to her exposed chest and he felt his heartbeat pounding rapidly in his chest as she stepped closer to him, barely twelve inches, refusing to take her eyes off of his.

“I know you want to,” she whispered, stroking his arms before taking hold of his hands, lifting them and placing them on her chest, “Touch me.”

He felt his erection becoming uncomfortable as he ran out of room in his pants for growth, massaging her chest. His attention roamed back up, locking eyes with her again. There was no stopping it.

************************************************** In a bout of passion, they threw themselves at each other, hungrily attaching their lips to one another, tongues circling and roaming the other’s mouth. Y/N tore fabric after fabric off of him as they spun, grabbing at each other roughly and without deliberation. Soon, they were both naked and knocking into walls and tripping over clothes.

Harry pushed her up against the dresser as she grabbed hold of his dick, pumping her hands up and down his shaft as he moaned into her mouth.

“Does that feel good, Professor?” she bit his lip with a smile.

“Ungh,” he grunted, pulling away. He spun her around so that her back was to his chest, and forced her down to bend over his dresser, propping one of her legs up on the top of it before he got to his knees, burying his face in her muff.

She cried out, “Yes! Teach me, Professor!”

He flicked his tongue inside of her, lapping up all of her juices while he rubbed himself. He could have kept going for hours, but he could feel her legs start to tremble. When he stood up, he slapped his cock on her ass a couple of times, swiping his tip against her entrance enough to get it lubricated before slipping right into her.

Y/N threw her head back, breathing, “Oh my god, you feel so good, Harry.”

He wrapped an arm around her neck while his other hand clasped over her mouth as he grunted, “Professor Styles,” before sucking on her shoulder blade.

When he loosened his hand from her mouth to take hold of her hip, she whined, “I’m so sorry, Professor Styles. I’m not always bad.”

“No, Y/N,” he pulled out of her, spinning her to face him, tempting her as he walked backwards towards his bed, “You’re my good girl.”

The back of his legs hit his bed and he scooched himself back, letting her climb over top of him, straddling his hips. She bent down, biting his lip again as she lowered herself onto him, gasping as her cunt swallowed him up.

She leaned back, letting him get a better look at her, breasts jumping up and down along with her. He ran a hand from her cleavage down to her navel, grazing her soft skin and watching as her mouth formed an ‘o’, scrunching up her eyebrows in pleasure as she called out his name.

“That’s a good girl,” he breathed, an arm behind his head as he watched, “Make me cum.”

She rode him faster, breathing heavier as he continued to grunt, propping himself up now and suckling on her skin. Her breaths became more shallow and her movements more rigid as she wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing herself onto him even harder. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her down onto him, even more, to go deeper. He could feel her throbbing around him, which only made him more aroused.

“Good girl, Y/N,” he breathed, “Cum on my dick.”

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, and with three more pumps she let out a scream as she said, “Pro-fessor Styles!”

He smirked, quickly flipping her on her back and pumping harder and faster into her as her legs wrapped around his waist. She panted, squeaking as he grunted into her. He looked into her eyes which were full of lust as she stared back into him and he could feel himself start to build up. Even faster now, knowing he was about to finish, he smashed his lips down on her quickly before pulling out and squirting his jizz on her stomach, letting her rub out every last drop.

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

He collapsed on the bed beside her as they panted, trying to catch their breath before he got the strength to reach down and grab his shirt for them to clean up the mess.

When he turned to face her, she smirked, “Do I need to drop your class? Or can we fuck in your office next time?”

He let out a breathy laugh and mumbled, “That depends. Are you going to the party with Mark tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to?” she retorted.

With a deep breath, Harry shimmied closer to her, nuzzling his head into her chest which made her wrap her arms around him, running her fingers through her hair as he whimpered, “No.”

She laughed, kissing his curly brown locks, “Told you I’d make you fall in love with me.”

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

Taglist:

@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans @gwenlovesharrystyles , @harryswinterberries, @gucciboots, @golden-grande, @ilovedogs1989 @f4llingfairy

[lunar-wandering]

cookies

more Sel content!! this time it’s how Sel first met Macaque. (maybe i’ll do one about how he met Wukong soon too)

oh, also, i can’t remember if i mentioned this before, but Sel is genderfluid, which is why he’s using he/him pronouns in this fic when he used she/her in the other one. just so ya know.

Word Count: 1.6k

Sel hummed to himself as he walked through the market, a basket slung over one arm. He'd been actively trying to get Wukong to eat things that weren't peach based (or the monkey's own hair....) for a while now, and thus far he'd had the best luck with different types of fruit, specifically ones from the market. Plus, it also helped that there was one stall around here that made really good juice drinks, so Sel tended to frequent the place rather often.

He stepped to the side to avoid bumping into a small group of people, and subsequently found himself closer to a rather...dark alleyway. Sel eyed the alleyway nervously as he walked past it, he wasn't entirely immune to horror stories and the anxious idea of getting attacked after all.

It was only after he passed the alleyway the he paused, turning back around to stand in front of the alley again, double checking what he had seen.

A monkey demon's tail, laying on the ground on the other side of a dumpster, presumably with a monkey demon attached to it.

Sel, honestly, only knew of three monkey demons.

The first of which being Wukong, Monkey King and all. He'd known him for a little over two years, ever since he'd hit his head on that boat and ended up on Flower Fruit Mountain by accident.

The second monkey was MK. Albeit, he was just a human with Wukong's powers, but Sel considered him a monkey in spirit, so he definitely counted.

The third, Sel had never actually had the pleasure of meeting.

...Well. Sel's market-shopping could wait a day.

As he took a step into the alley, he could see the fur on the tail bristle, before it was pulled back to hide behind the dumpster.

So. The other could hear him. Not surprising really, from what little he knew, the Six Eared Macaque does have excellent hearing after all.

Which was why Sel was slightly amused when Macaque startled as Sel walked to stand in front of him.

With just one look at the shadow monkey, Sel immediately became concerned.

There weren't any obvious injuries, but Macaque was curled up, not completely, but enough for it to be obvious that it was either a defensive position or a response to pain. It wasn't exactly surprising that he was probably hurt, he had fought MK and Wukong after all, not many people could exactly come out of that undamaged.

Still though, from what Sel knew, Macaque should've been fully healed by now.

The fact that he wasn't was incredibly concerning.

...And Macaque was still staring up at him in confusion.

Right, he hadn't said anything yet.

"...Hi there!" Sel said, before realizing that, as he was standing up and Macaque wasn't, he was kinda....towering over him.

Not wanting to accidentally threaten the other this early on, Sel knelt down in front of Macaque, pulling out a bag of cookies and holding it out as an offering. He'd been mostly planning on saving them for later, but, well...

Macaque looked at him bewildered, before scoffing, shoving the bag of cookies and Sel's outstretched hand away, grabbing hold of the edge of the dumpster and slowly picking himself up off the ground. He didn't look exactly steady- some injuries starting to show through the glamour Sel could tell he was wearing, and the slight shakiness in his legs didn't exactly lead Sel to trust that the shadow monkey wasn't about to collapse.

Sel stood back up, holding out the bag of cookies again.

"They're not poisoned, by the way." He said, "I haven't even opened the bag, if you're worried about that."

"I don't like sweets." Macaque muttered, the first words Sel had heard him say.

"Aw, c'mon, you don't look like you've eaten in weeks, you should at least eat something, even if you don't like it." Sel insisted, unphased as Macaque glared at him.

"Why do you care?" He asked, "You- You've literally never met me before, why are you concerned- really this is rather careless of you to talk to a stranger-"

"But I do know you, even if I haven't met you." Sel said, "I know who you are, Macaque. MK was quite detailed in talking about you. Wukong was a little more quiet about it, but he did mention you as well."

A look of fear passed through Macaque's eyes.

Sel immediately decided he didn't like it. He had been kind of planning on threatening Macaque about not attacking MK or Wukong again, but....something about his expression right now made that idea not quite sit right.

"Hey." He lowered his voice to as soft as it could go, trying his best to channel the sensation of a relaxing night on the seashore into his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Macaque clearly still didn't trust him, but his shoulders relaxed slightly, so Sel took that as a win.

"...Who are you anyways?" Macaque asked, "I don't think I've seen you around the city before."

"I've never seen you around either, so it's probably more of us not frequenting the same places." Sel said, "But anyways, my name's Sel, currently the resident selkie of Flower Fruit Mountain. Well, I don't really live there, but I visit pretty often enough."

"So you're....friends with Wukong?" Macaque asked, his tail swishing back and forth.

"Yep! He really should have more though, I keep telling him that one friend and one successor isn't a really good social life, but does he listen, no-" Sel paused, registering the way Macaque was looking away, avoiding eye contact as he rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly vaguely uncomfortable. Hm. Wukong probably wasn't the best topic then. "Ah- anyways, you're injured, right? Do you need any help with that or-"

"I'm fine." Macaque hissed, and Sel noted for later how his eye flashed purple, the shadows in the alley condensing. "Shouldn't you be- I don't know, shopping or something?"

"Shopping can wait for later, injuries are a thing for now." Sel said, recognizing the defensive deflection for what it was. "Seriously, if you need help all you need to do is tell me and I'll-"

"And how should I know to trust you?" Macaque pressed his back closer to the wall behind him. Man, this seriously wasn't going well. "For all I know, Wukong could've sent you here to finally land the final blow."

At that, Sel pauses, assessing Macaque again, the look in his eyes, the way he looks ready to flee at any moment.

...He realizes he's seen this exact same thing before.

On himself, a few years ago. On Wukong, whenever he thinks Sel isn't looking. More recently, on MK, which was nothing if not concerning.

On a girl, standing at the top of a cliff, foot hovering over the edge.

"How do I keep running into the people who seriously need therapy..." He muttered, ignoring the fact that Macaque probably heard him, based on how his ear twitched. "Well, if you ever do decide to trust me, you can probably find me at Flower Fruit Mountain. If not, Wukong will probably help you if you actually show your injuries and don't immediately try to kill him."

"And what makes you think Wukong would do that?"

"I read his diary."

"You- wait what?" Macaque's righteous caution was suddenly fully replaced by confusion. "How did you get a hold of-"

"He kinda just... gave it to me?" Sel shrugged, "I made a comment about not believing that he could write good poems, and he just. Handed it over to prove me wrong. I think he forgot most of what he wrote in there honestly."

"I-you-" Macaque seemed to struggle to come up with a response to that for a moment. "...What was in his diary that makes you think he'd want to help me?"

"Hm... That's for me to know, and you to find out." Sel said, and, fully aware that this might be a step too far, but wanting to test and see where the boundaries lay, reached out and ruffled the fur on Macaque's head. Surprisingly, he didn't stop him from doing this, and if Sel wasn't imagining things, he actually leaned into the contact too.

...Probably touchstarved then. That was another check to the "I keep finding people who seriously need help, how does this keep happening" list.

"Well." Sel started, removing his hand and watching in semi-amusement as Macaque seemingly became aware of what just happened, the slightest hint of a pink blush making it's way through the shadow monkey's glamour over the fact he'd been taken off guard. Sel softly chuckled at his expression, before gently setting the bag of cookies on top of the dumpster. "I suppose I should be going, the juice stand is going to close soon after all, and I really do in fact want a strawberry juice. You're free to come along if you want."

"I- No. No, I'm fine." Macaque said, crossing his arms, his fur bristling. "Like I said, I don't like sweets."

"Hm, if you say so." Sel turned, ignoring the sensation of Macaque watching him as he left the alley.

He walked a few steps down the street, waiting for about a minute before turning back and looking down the alley again.

As he'd expected, Macaque was gone, as well as the bag of cookies.

Sel smirked to himself, remembering how Wukong had adamantly refused to eat the cookies after finding out Sel had put a healing potion into it, adamantly stating that he didn't need any healing. At least someone who needed it would use them.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

it wasn’t power i coveted; it was acceptance.

Titans 3.06

y’know, i was just thinking the other day that 1.06/1.07 and 2.06/2.07 were the best episodes of their respective seasons, so i have great hopes going in to this one. fingers crossed!

as always, typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. oh! um... that was a Cold Open, all right. *nudges* get it? cold? because it’s snowing? and two people got murdered in cold blood? eh?

... oh, i’ve just started.

1.5. i wonder if “i want to be sipping pina coladas on a beach with you” is the new “i’m just one day away from retiring.” i was so on edge after that--i kept expecting that car to explode. even so, the way they died wasn’t an anticlimax: brutal, and quick. 

1.75. so i’m assuming that’s the titular lady vic! this show better bring up why this doll was important or why these two cops needed to be killed, and not leave it to the ether like jericho’s little mindscape jaunt in 2.08 (i’m still dying to know what that was about???)

2.

i love how deliberately unappealing wayne manor is. 

(sorry for the pic quality. i don’t have hbo max! ssshhh.)

2.3. i love the many references to “home” and “our house” when they’ve been here for less than a week and saw one of their friends get blown into pieces. i mean, i unironically love it: home is where family is, after all!

2.5. i’d like to say that kom is playing some sort of long game here, especially given the build-up we had last season and some of the more niggling details this season: why did kom choose now to use her bond to lure kory when she’s been on earth for months? why did justin call kory now, just around the time that she started getting kom’s visions? and what about kom’s ability to exactly imitate other people? hmmm.

2.75. the reason i wrote i’d like to say is that i’ve made the mistake of assuming plot complexity where there is none; i was so invested in the jason todd orchestrated his own death theory for instance, when it turns out that oops! ra’s al ghul just happened to leave a little lazarus puddle in gotham, and oh yeah! scarecrow just happens to have a network of henchmen working for him on the outside and a fully functional laboratory and a weapons cache fit for a new supervillain in the basement of the high security psychiatric unit/prison that he’s in! 

(no i’m not bitter, why do you ask)

2.8. iiiii don’t know what to say about the implications of sex slavery being a thing on tamaran, so i’m not going to say anything at all. for now.

3. gotham, six years ago... wasn’t it five years before s2 that jericho died and the titans disbanded? and when was the flashback from 1.06 where dick let zucco die? i think it was after the events of 2.08: jericho? i can’t seem to find any transcripts or reliable information online, so i’m going to have to rewatch 1.06 at some point. 

(i love the old-fashioned batman music in this heist scene)

3.5. “security is a joke... it’s my way of keeping my dad on his toes”. what you’re an ethical thief now, like an ethical hacker? i don’t think that excuse is going to sell, barbara, on the day you do encounter a decent security system and your father is forced to arrest you.

(then again, gotham’s security is piss-poor. did you know that you could just walk into arkham asylum without any official clearance, ply one of its most dangerous inhabitants with contraband, and said inmate could get away with having an entire laboratory and weapons cache--NO I’M NOT GOING TO LET THIS GO)

3.8 so that flashback between dick and barbara was really cute! and also illuminating:

a) dick sounds so light, so... um. look. i have some apologies to tender to mr thwaites, because while i’ve always thought he does a fine job as dick grayson, i’ve never been terribly fond of his cadence as he delivers dialogue. it’s often monotonous, i thought, but then again, he’s usually delivering exposition or dealing with one soul-crushing crisis or the other. so i was pleasantly surprised to hear dick sound so carefree and alive in his conversation with barbara, laughing frequently, his emotions so bare and bubbling to the surface. it’s really a fantastic contrast to the traumatised and world-weary dick grayson that we see now, even more so than the costume department just bunging a backwards-baseball cap on mr thwaites’ head and hoping that will convince us of his relative youth. 

b) and god, when he wakes up from that memory, all alone in his bed, bleeding from bullet holes in his shoulder (bullet holes that are--in a somewhat convoluted way--barbara’s fault)? yikes. it’s great. you have my apologies, mr thwaites!

c) can you imagine dick just... crawling back to wayne manor, trying not to be seen by anybody, shedding his suit and just... collapsing onto his bed without even tending to his wound? the sheer emotional and physical exhaustion of it? 

d) it’s so interesting to see how barbara and dick approach the idea of legacy--a big theme on the show!--in this flashback. barbara is the one bucking the idea that she should follow in her father’s footsteps, while dick seems pretty content with the batman-and-robin setup, and even tries to get barbara to join their team (robin-girl. pfffft). obviously after this several traumatic things happen wherein dick ends up questioning and then resenting his role as robin, his relationship with batman or even returning as a vigilante at all. and barbara... ends up replacing her father as commissioner. it’s tragic, really. 

e) the dynamic between dick and barbara in the flashback reminds me of how it was between dick and donna in 1.08 and even between kory and dick in early s1. it’s like having an older, strong-willed woman by his side means he gives over the steering wheel for a while and lets himself... unspool, a little bit. it’s kinda endearing.

also:

*pinches his cheeks*

3. you know, we talk about dick and Eldest Daughter Syndrome, and that’s definitely valid, but here gar seems to me the embodiment of it, with all the emotional gardening and firefighting that he’s expected to do. he’s kind of the guy expected to keep his shit together and take care of everyone else while they are falling completely to pieces, unable to carve out time to process his own trauma. he’s also picked up dick’s and kory’s tendencies to bottle up their struggles and shun appearing vulnerable, and he’s struggling in the shadow of both dick and kory undergoing acute crises, his best friend (and frequent confidante) on the other side of the world, and seeing hank die, utterly helpless to stop it. 

i’m glad that he got a chance to tell dick even a smidgeon of what he really feels, and i hope this is at least a semblance of a wake up call for dick to actually sit down and work with the people he repeatedly calls family.

3.5. it’s heartening to see that dick immediately makes it his priority to go talk to gar. but don’t blow off kory in the process, man!

4. i’m really loving this dynamic between kom and conner--i get the idea that both of them consider each other as Unknowns, alien two times over. but conner’s only ever known the titans, who embrace being different, and kom’s only ever known... well. 

anyway, kory is Really Stressed, and honestly? #relatable. 

when you’re forced to bring an estranged family member to hang out with your friends...

4.5. i love that the titans are spending so much time in the kitchen. a real family!

5. jonathan crane is a creep and i absolutely cannot stand him.

5.25. how did he get a whole lab setup (in the basement of a hospital...?) with a bunch of whitecoats to work for him? how did he just waltz into the viewing room of an operation theatre when he’s one of the most wanted men in gotham right now? why is jason wandering around maskless when--presumably--as the adopted son of the most famous person in gotham he’d be a tad more recognisable than your average joe?

why do i expect this show to answer anything anymore?

5.5. that’s not necessarily a criticism, mind; i’ve said since season 1 that titans is very comics-like in this aspect, all about the Aesthetic and the splash-page splendour rather than the niggling unimportant details of how or when the characters got to said location. like. the camera gliding over the operation being set-up, lady vic bursting in and doing her murder dance (imagine the luck of the poor intern who chose this day and this surgery to assist) and jason, shocked and slack-jawed, framed by blood.

5.75. it’s a sobering reminder for jason that, though he chose this path in order to gain control over a world that seemed like it was rapidly spinning out of his grip, he’s only succeeded in handing over even more control to a man with an agenda that is very clearly not aligned with his own. he’s in too far to stop now, though.

5.9. i have a lot more thoughts about jason! saving it up for the end of this recap, though.

6. more kitchen time! i better see dick do some cooking soon...

(”our kitchen”! it still delights me! kitchens are So Important)

6.25. so much of dick’s issues have revolved around his relationship with bruce, so it’s completely understandable that in the wake of a huge crisis where bruce literally asks dick to replace him and be a “better” him, dick would default to all the worst things he learned from the man. and i’m glad kory’s having none of it, but come on, guys. the woman’s literally fetched her fratricidal sister out of a hole in the ground with no idea what said sister is going to do next and experiencing a burgeoning sense of guilt far, far beyond her history with the titans, and dick’s too far into his autocolonoscopy that he can’t see that she needs help.

6.5. “he services your urges”--well, as far as we know, kory is the last person he had sex with...

7. “i hope [gar] isn’t angry with me...” SIR! i thought you’d already spoken to him! smh, as the kids say. kory wouldn’t be needing to reassure you if you just took the effort to build two way emotional relationships with the rest of the team. @superohclair​ was taking about dick’s relatively low emotional intelligence? i agree.

7.5. “i got my own problems [...] you and barbara? fix it.” YOU TELL HIM, KORY

8. man i really like this weird, sad tension between dick and barbara--this sense that both of them are approaching the other based on how they remember them and are ultimately disappointed by the truth. barbara thought she could trust dick to... well, be a better batman, but dick has not only failed at that in her eyes, but repeatedly undermined her while exploiting the authority that she gave him. in dick’s eyes, this is nothing like the barbara that he knew, rebellious and ready to do whatever it takes to find something. 

like. this show sometimes really hits me in the chest about the ways it shows kids grow into adults and into caretakers, and the way it’s stop-start, the ways nothing can happen at all for a long time and then it’s Crisis Central all at once and there’s no space to breathe. the weird sort of sadness that comes with nostalgia. 

8.5. oracle name drop! i agree with barbara, any system that can just randomly tap into gotham phonelines is a monster.

8.7. (i don’t know if it’s my imagination, but is dick holding himself... differently in this episode? like that wound is definitely bothering him, and he’s running on fumes)

9. man, that was a really sweet scene between kom and conner. “feeling alien in your own world”... “not quite here nor there”

honestly this team runs on conner and gar’s faith in their value as a family, and it’s a sign of conner’s generous heart that he extends that opportunity to blackfire. this arc of maturation for him, where he’s now able to consciously choose which parts of himself he can use to do the thing he wants to so--save people--has been so fulfilling to recognise. this baby’s grown with the titans! and what he’s learnt is that people can get fucked up, but the titans is a place where they can be fucked up, and grow.

MY MAN CONNER

10. oh man i’m drinking in the gar-dick interaction in this episode like i’m three days into the desert and it’s the only source of water for miles around!

a) gar is absolutely not dealing with dick’s bullshit this episode and I LOVE IT. it’s such a far cry from the man who was idolising dick/robin back in s1 and expecting him to solve all their problems. dick is fallible, dick is fucked up, but he Tries His Best and that’s ok.

b) dick, huffing and puffing through that vent, unable to put any pressure on his left shoulder, trying to have a heart to heart with gar... fuck i love this asshole. 

c) bruce took in a kid who was suffering... “and made him into a weapon”. well. i absolutely agree with dick that it was bruce who put these kids into these horrible situations with him and they came away with a bucketload of trauma to add to the one that they already had. but we know that bruce was really trying with jason, and at the end of s2, dick was coming to acknowledge that bruce had offered him something that wasn’t just darkness. jason’s death and bruce’s reaction to that shattered that fragile progress.

d) “gotham got to me too.” i feel more sympathetic towards dick running off on his own than most, and it’s not just because i’m an unapologetic stan.  we’ve seen before that dick... devolves when overwhelmed, and he lashes out and makes ill thought out decisions and just Does Not Deal. it happened after hearing the news that deathstroke had returned in s2, and it didn’t help that everyone around him was reeling at the news, either. this time, however, he has his salvation in his family, and despite some stupid decisions like running off and kidnapping supervillains without telling his team, he’s been really on the ball this season. thinking clearly and logically, holding it together and working on a plan, thinking two steps ahead of the villains... yes.

e) gar needing to believe that jason isn’t beyond redemption... there’s a lot of blood on his hands, too, from when he was manipulated by cadmus last season. it makes sense why he’d relate to jason’s predicament, and i hope dick picked up on that.

f) my head just added a plaintive ow after dick jumped feet first into the storage room

i need, crave gifs of this scene!

11. *sits on hands* i’m going to talk more about red hood, i promise!

12. more gar and dick! is it my birthday??!!

(actually, according to the tamil calendar, it is my birthday! my “star” birthday)

12.5. excellent. dick using some implausible training that bruce taught him to solve a mystery? passing some of that knowledge onto gar? that proud smile when he sees gar perfectly execute moves that he taught him? MY HEART IS EXPLODING

13. aw, i love flashback!dick and barbara, they’re so cute <3

13.25. why does it not surprise me that the way he proposes a relationship to barbara is by saying “we make sense”? this guy can deduce exactly who was present where and what weapon they were holding from a garbled audio recording but other times he’s utterly clueless, and that’s a consistent character beat right from s1

13.5. so.... that’s why lady vic has it out for... barbara....? i don’t get it. it’s flimsy. but hey! the fun thing about titans is that i don’t have to get it. the payoff has nothing to do with the plot.

14. i can’t believe that barbara fell for that, but at least that wheelchair fight looked awesome, so.

15. oh yeah, i forgot that red hood bullied the mob into helping him and scarecrow... at least that explains the whitecoats and the elaborate set-up.

15.5. honestly i love how this dynamic between kory and kom is developing, though i wish more of the team would pay attention to it. time to call justin, i think!

16. i wonder what happened after that second flashback where barbara got hurt during that heist. did she give up on doing any more (maybe jim caught her)? was it because dick was called away by bruce and then the titans and got caught up in his own issues? maybe barbara froze him out because she wasn’t looking for the relationship that he was looking for? maybe the idea of doing that with someone turning into batman-lite was just... unappealing? scary?

whatever it is, it doesn’t look like dick ever processed the end of that relationship. it’s very intriguing to see where their dynamic goes next.

17. so.... what, did vic deliver some fear toxin to barbara? i... what?

17.5. and i TOLD YOU that they would never explain that doll or why vic attacked those two cops at the beginning! oh, titans. never change. 

18. did jason just randomly have tim’s restaurant burgled? god, i’m feeling a bit nauseous... are they going to kill tim’s father?

18.25. i feel like the rest of the season is going to wrestle with jason’s culpability in the horrible stuff he’s doing and i’m already seeing that prospect divide fans. on one hand, his story is taking a lot of oxygen away from other equally interesting story arcs, and he’s done some truly awful things, like indiscriminate murder, threatening to kill children, blowing up hank, and potentially killing tim’s parents. 

there’s something to be said for the kind of hold that crane has over him, and the so-called ‘anti-fear’ drug that he keeps plying jason with--he’s alone, drugged almost constantly (to the level of dependence), fresh from the trauma of being bludgeoned to death. he hasn’t conquered fear; he’s ruled by it. on the other hand, given that he’s the one character on the show given an obvious and identifiable ‘mental illness’ arc (maaaaybe dick too), one can argue that it’s irresponsible to show this progress into such violence: jason was vulnerable because he was struggling, and that left him vulnerable, but it took only a push before he became a fucking serial killer.

but that could mean we underestimate the degree of that vulnerability, and the mechanics of this universe where he fell into the clutches of the one supervillain perfectly designed to exploit that vulnerability. that helpless spiral into further and further self-destruction is all too real. it’s valuable to know that someone who has sunk that low can still seek help--actual help--and get it. 

18.5. i don’t know. it’s not a question i’m going to resolve at the end of an overlong recap at 1 in the morning. i don’t believe it’s even a question that titans can resolve. but i am interested in where they’re going next with jason.

19. this episode was genuinely great! i’m pumped for the rest of the season!

[imreallyhereforkataang]

I'm unsure about how's the best way to articulate this, but I'm kind of surprised there's not more fan content highlighting the otherworldly aspects of Kataang, and a part of me wishes we could see a bit more of that.

I'd expect that most if not all fandoms frequently have an affinity for glamorizing aesthetics of characters and ships, and content creators who I know often look for ways to convey that sort of thing. I've also witnessed lots of people on this site claim that they first became attracted to a ship for its aesthetic because they saw embellishing artwork that didn't really highlight much about the characters' personalities, but was still gorgeous and impressive to look at.

And yeah, it makes sense that content creators and consumers in fandom engage with works that make epic an idea that may be primarily based off the “what” of the characters, or the situations they find themselves in, rather than the finer details of the “who.” The resulting creation is similar to what happens when the personal elements of a legend get lost over time, while the sensational aspects continue to be retold and glorified. That sort of thing makes for extremely intriguing depictions of the original source material, even if it’s at the expense of some of the subject’s humanity. Though, even when that depiction becomes so far removed from the original that it's totally unrecognizable, I do think it's often still fascinating and creative, and maybe should be its own celebrated thing altogether.

It's just surprising to me, and kind of disappointing if I'm honest, that, based on the relative lack of fan content doing this, many people seem to either not recognize or not act upon how Kataang has that exact aesthetic potential.

If you were to keep the basics of their story intact but tell it through a different lens or genre, maybe dramatize it a bit, it would be so easy to emphasize how Kataang is literally like a demigod and a mortal falling in love. That on its own to me sounds like the premise for the epic love story fandom culture would traditionally find appealing. And it's really not much of a stretch -- that is one legitimate way to look at the pairing if you broke it down to its objective pieces, even if it's not the most focused-on part of their relationship in the original material (though it certainly is alluded to). The source material is much more detailed and personal, like watching a show where Oma and Shu are the main characters versus hearing the major beats of their legend.

For Kataang, we can definitely take it further with drawing out their major beats. The mortal comes into her own and is shown to be a force of comparable measure to the demigod, as she is his self-appointed protectress. She releases him from dormancy, bringing him back into the world to fulfill his grand destiny, and on their quest, she would become his teacher, both in training and in reacquainting himself with the new era. At one point she would even revive him and his line of divinity after watching him be struck down and killed. This mortal is his first devotee, and his personal connection with her makes her his attachment to the world and, in extension, the mortals he protects.

Meanwhile, the demigod is the personification of the mortal's faith, a vessel of the compassion she feels so deeply for others. He takes her places, literally and metaphorically, she never could have gone before, teaching her in turn about lost practices and new perspectives. He can legitimately bring her to the skies with a unique ability that no one else in the entire world possesses -- an ability that also defines much of what he stands for and what her world has been missing in his absence.

Not to mention how the mortal was one of the only people who believed this demigod would resurface, and the only person by his side from the start of meeting him in their warring environment. The two were born nearly 100 years apart, yet their connection and love is shown to transcend both time and space. Their elements and roles to the world and to each other can be represented by synergistic air and water, which are associated in canon with freedom/peace and change/virtue, respectively. And if one were going to dramatize Kataang's relationship and what it stands for, their exchange could reasonably be depicted as the bridge between the heavens and the earth (moon and ocean).  

Like, truly, their story is so mythical. The pieces are there. Think about how their theme is called "The Avatar's Love" and segments of that theme are reused for LoK, pointing to Aang's reincarnation cycle and how the love he feels transcends so many lifetimes, but he chooses Katara in this particular one. Think about what Yangchen says to Aang about the reason the Avatar is born a human and not a spirit, that the Avatar must live amongst humans and experience human emotions to recognize how precious the life is that the universe entrusts him with protecting. Think about Aang's chakras in The Guru, and not just the Love and Thought Chakras but nearly all of them, and how truly tied Katara is with his energy, his spirit. That can't be faked -- that's real, genuine influence, her touching his life in ways that highlight his humanity. Think about how Aang has a real-time vision of Katara without even intending to, and the only other being we see Aang do something similar (but intentionally) with is Appa, to whom Pathik says, "You and the Avatar's energies are mixed. You have an unbreakable bond."  

Think about the Pietà pose in The Crossroads of Destiny and all that symbolizes about Aang and Katara (honestly that alone should be enough because it speaks volumes), including their world savior/first believer dynamic. How Katara brings Aang back to life and says, "I don't know what I did exactly," thus giving fuel to the idea that saving him didn't just constitute normal healing on her end. Think about the visual parallel between her resurrecting him and her releasing him from stasis in the first episode. Think about Katara's extended opening narration in the pilot and how it evolves to when she meets Aang, with just as much trust in an idea as in what ends up being the real thing.  

Think about their relationship when Aang goes into the Avatar State, embodying his most divine form. How Katara is able to speak with and approach him, and how he can hear her and respond to her while in that state, honing all his past lives. Think about when Aang deals the heavy attack at Fong's base that would continue to haunt Aang for so long afterwards, which showcases how out of control he is here, yet his blow from all Avatars completely and deliberately avoids Katara while targeting everyone remotely near her. Think about how Katara is so unafraid of a raging demigod, even when the person underneath hasn't been acting like himself lately, that she doesn't flinch at the output of his anger and just goes to him as everyone else runs. Think about that visual where she grabs onto his arms and pulls him from the air that only he can bend to the ground she's tied to and into her arms. Think about how she always tries to catch him when he falls, because she is adamant about being his cushion to the earth.

Think about how Aang is the reason Katara gets to touch the heavens. Think about how he takes her on an epic journey across the world so she can learn waterbending and make the difference she's always wanted. How being with him, the one person with a divinely granted duty to the world and who will always choose her, puts her right on the foreground for making that difference. Think about how they can still waterbend together even if Katara can't airbend -- no one can besides Aang. Think about their push and pull of the water and how it highlights their equal footing, and that although, as the demigod he is, Aang can master all the elements, Katara is the mortal who teaches him mastery in the one they share between them.

I don't know, to me it's all so cool and awe-inspiring. Obviously the most important part of Kataang's relationship is how their personalities play off each other and how they treat each other, but in terms of this kind of grander depiction, I think of it more like Oma and Shu. We don’t know the details of how Oma and Shu acted towards each other, yet we hear the story about the power of their love and take inspiration from it.

So yes, I unfortunately don’t see this pronounced demigod/mortal iteration of Kataang very often in fan works, but it makes for a pretty dang fascinating legend to contemplate anyhow.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

The One With The Room Reassignment

Aguni needs a new room. For, well, reasons. Embarrassing reasons. Reasons that he’s trying not to disclose to anyone, least of all Takeru, who...well, you know how he is.

But it’ll all be okay.

Right?

(Because I simply could not have read this post by @missdrake without writing the Aguni prompt. I mean, come on, the opportunity for banter was just too good!)

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Rating: ‼️18+‼️ Do Not Interact If You Are Underage

Warnings: descriptions of sexual situations, referenced drug use, alcohol, threats of violence

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Of all the places Aguni could be right now, this has to be one of the worst.

It’s not that he dislikes Takeru’s room, per se. On the contrary, he actually enjoys the subtle opulence of the space, spelled out in caramel-colored woods and blue-green drapes.

It’s fancy, yes, but approachable. Comfortable, even.

But, in this moment, Aguni feels anything but comfortable. He feels antsy, he feels jumpy—he feels the angry little teeth of embarrassment nibbling at the ends of his nerves, and its making his palms sweat.

Are the lights in here extra hot, or is that just him?

...It’s probably just him.

It doesn’t help that Takeru is staring at him, those deep-dark eyes filled with their usual mix of subtle scrutiny mixed with glittering amusement and finished off with a dash of smug confidence—like a flourish of whipped cream atop a hot fudge sundae, if the whipped cream had the uncanny ability to see into a person’s soul and the hot fudge sundae was a lovable bastard whose modus operandi involved creating as much drama as possible.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Takeru says—and he is so very feline, stretched into a graceful sprawl along the black leather sofa, his lips curled into a serene, sleepy smile around the lip of a champagne flute.

Aguni doesn’t even like champagne, but he’s been taking small, nervous sips from his own glass all the same because that is infinitely more manageable than talking. Except, well...because he’s not talking, the situation is getting more and more awkward by the minute.

“Didn’t expect you to be alone.”

“I’ve decided to take the night off,” Takeru says, rolling his shoulders back in a slow stretch of spine, “The games, the meetings, the endless parade of unfortunates looking for guidance and reassurance? It wears on you, Mori-chan.”

As if to illustrate the point, Takeru heaves a dramatic sigh.

“There’s something wearing on you, too, isn’t there? You look...pained?”

“I, uh,” Aguni swallows nervously. This is the part he’s been dreading for the last hour, and now that it’s here...well. All he has to do is stick to the plan and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“I...” Aguni gulps, “need a new room.”

Although his delivery leaves something to be desired in the “calm and collected” department, Aguni is quite pleased with himself for having managing to get the words out without blushing.

...Okay, he’s probably blushing a little bit, but Takeru hasn’t teased him about it yet, so it can’t be that bad.

“Oh? Why?”

Aguni’s jaw tightens. The problem with Takeru (one of the many, if he’s being honest) is that the man can be particularly difficult to read. Even after thirty-plus years of friendship, Aguni can’t tell what he’s thinking half of the time, which has left him in quite a few...situations. Difficult situations. Confusing situations. Awkward situations.

Situations like these, where Aguni’s brain is spinning like a high-powered carousel on a pottery wheel inside of a giant blender and someone keeps pressing the ‘pulse’ button with a giant hammer and it’s all very loud and very unpleasant.

“The bed,” he answers slowly, “uh, the bed is...broken.”

“Broken?”

Aguni takes another gulp of alcohol—too much for one swallow, and his throat spasms around the popping fizz of carbonation. He coughs slightly.

“Yes,” Aguni clarifies, “Broken.”

Takeru rolls his eyes.

“Always the brilliant conversationalist,” Takeru says, dripping with sarcasm and waving his champagne with a dismissive gesture, “We’ve established that the bed is broken, but you’ve failed to mention how it is broken, and since I do not know the extend of the breakage, I am unable to determine if you do, in fact, need to be moved to a different room. Space is limited, Mori-chan. I can’t afford to be frivolous about such things.”

Had he not been so focused on maintaining some semblance of composure, Aguni might have teased his friend for lecturing him about frivolity—but now is not the time for chit-chat. He is a man on a mission, and the success of said mission is dependent on his ability to, as they say, ‘get in and get out.’

“The frame. It, uh...snapped off of the headboard,”Aguni answers carefully, “It’s...I can’t sleep on it.”

Takeru’s eyes narrow.

“Ah. I see.”

Silence settles between them once more—only for a moment, but it’s enough to make Aguni shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I can fix it,” Aguni adds, “I just...need a place to stay tonight.”

There is a flash of silver—Takeru is one of the only people Aguni knows under the age of sixty who uses a cigarette case, which is both charming and frequently inconvenient— and it’s only a second before the scent of smoke and nicotine fills the air.

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” he concludes—and it’s a weight off of Aguni’s mind and heart that Takeru hasn’t decided to ask him a million questions regarding the “why’s” and “how’s” of his current predicament.

Perhaps there’s a chance he can make it out of here (relatively) unscathed.

So, when Takeru offers Aguni a drag on his cigarette, Aguni doesn’t much read into the gesture and gladly accepts.

“Hm,” Takeru says.

“What?”

“That is...so interesting.”

Aguni hands the cigarette back to his friend.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I’m just reminiscing, I suppose,” Takeru says airily, “about the last time we shared a cigarette. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Something blooms in Aguni—something bad and uncertain.

“I don’t—“

“Oh, it’s been years. Three, actually. And a half. Tell me, Mori-chan,” Takeru furrows his brow, “can you remember where we were three-and-a-half years ago?”

Remember the ‘something’ that bloomed inside Aguni just a moment ago? Well, it has a name, and that name is ‘intense discomfort.’ He knows where this is going. He knows he’s powerless to stop it.

“Don’t worry, my dear friend—I remember,” he says, closing his eyes and smiling to himself, “Halloween. Osaka. 2018. I was Freddie Mercury. You were Elton John. It took me ages to get all those sequins sewn on...”

Takeru takes one final hit from the cigarette before stubbing it out into a (decidedly lovely) teacup that happened to be conveniently placed on the coffee table in front of him.

“Isn’t that the year you threw the statue of Colonel Sanders into the river?”

Takeru sneers.

“You mean the year I threw Colonel Sanders into the river alone because...somebody ran off with the mascot from that mediocre takoyaki stand,” he snips, “and then had the audacity to show up two hours later asking for a cigarette. Do you know why you asked for a cigarette, Mori-chan?”

“Oh no.”

“It’s because you didn’t have any on you. Because you don’t usually smoke. Unless,” and Takeru positively relishes his dramatic pause, “it’s after sex.”

Aguni doesn’t say anything.

“You thought you could come into my house,” Takeru shouts, “after having mind-blowing, soul-shattering sex—the kind of sex that snaps bed frames clean in half—and I wouldn’t know about it?”

“But how did you—?”

“I heard you,” Takeru spits, “howling like...like some kind of demonic wolf in the light of a full moon!”

“I couldn’t have been that loud...”

“Loud enough to hear from down the hall,” Takeru adds, “frankly, I’m impressed. And a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your lover. Nobody’s broken a bed fucking me lately, which is a goddamn shame,” Takeru sips from his glass, “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me who it was, hm?”

“No,” Aguni snaps, perhaps a bit too quickly, “making fun of me is one thing, but I won’t you have you making fun of my...uh, my...”

“Paramour?”

“...Sure,” Aguni says, “Look, the point is, it’s important that I—“

“Yes, yes, you’re about to lecture me about ‘privacy’ and ‘boundaries’ and all the things decent people like you are oh-so-interested in preserving,” Takeru says, rolling his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of discretion.”

“You are?”

“When the situation calls for it,” Takeru muses, “or if it’s simply more fun to keep my mouth shut and watch the drama unfold. You having a secret lover ticks both boxes.”

Takeru jumps up from his seat and claps his hands together.

“So! I have decided,” he announces with great panache, “that I shall, in fact, give you a new room. A nice one, too. Maybe even nicer than the one you’re in currently.”

Aguni huffs a relieved breath.

“Thank you.”

“But!” Takeru flops down on the couch next to Aguni with all the grace of a fleshly-flipped pancake, “You have to do something for me.”

“I don’t—“

“You have to answer three,” and Takeru holds up three fingers in front of Aguni’s face, “of my questions. Truthfully. No skips, no take-backs.”

This is...well. This is not ideal.

Aguni considers his options. On one hand, he’s entirely justified in slapping Takeru across the face and shouting ‘absolutely not!’—and, honestly, Takeru would probably understand because, while he is an asshole, he is a self-aware asshole.

On the other hand, it’s only three questions. Maybe, if he’s able to keep Takeru on topic (a Herculean effort to be sure), Aguni can make quick work of getting a new room and, more importantly, getting the hell out of here.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “but make it quick. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Takeru says, “nothing wears you out quite like an evening of dirty, nasty, animalistic—“

“Takeru!”

“—Depraved, disgusting fucking,” and he makes a very disgusted ugh-ing sound when he notices Aguni shooting him a pointed glare, “Fine. Lovemaking. Whatever. The point is that you got it in real good and that’s enough to make anyone tired.”

“Dealing with you is making me tired. Please, just...ask your questions so I can get a room and go to bed.”

“Fine, fine,” Takeru says, and he makes a great show of thinking the matter over, mouth puckering into a pouty little frown before snapping into a mischievous smirk, “Question one: did you shower before coming here?”

Aguni sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“No.”

“Oh, that is gross,” Takeru shouts, clapping him on the back, “I’m so proud of you!”

Aguni rolls his eyes, trying his hardest to look unaffected by his friend’s prying. But he can’t hide the blush from blooming on his face, because this is all very mortifying and he doesn’t particularly enjoy the way Takeru is looking at him with a devious little smile.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” Takeru says, running a hand through his hair, “a less-handsome—but taller—mirror!”

“Got a good two inches on you,” Aguni says, and he relishes the way his companion winces. Although he is not a short man by any means, Takeru has always been just a bit shorter than him—which has led to quite a few jabs over the years.

“Maybe in height,” Takeru quips, “but certainly not everywhere else, hm?”

It’s odd, but somehow, Aguni has not yet gotten used to feeling his soul leave his body. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s dying inside, letting the pain shine out directly from his face and hopes it slaps Takeru across the mouth so he doesn’t have to.

“I couldn’t resist,” Takeru says between chuckles, “You know how I am!”

“Unfortunately.”

But Takeru is too busy staring at him now to give one of his classically witty retorts. To the untrained eye, it would appear that he is carefully considering something. Because Aguni knows that the words ‘careful’ and ‘consideration’ are not part of Takeru’s vocabulary, he steels himself for whatever batshit-insane bullshit is going to come flying at him next.

“Now, I know the identity of your new squeeze is off-limits. Which I am sympathetic towards, because I am a sensitive and caring man—which, by the way, is something you should mention to any and all available singles you should happen upon throughout your travels...”

There’s just something about the way Takeru talks—and talks, and talks—that sets Aguni’s blood to boil.

“You know why it took me three years to get laid? Because you,” Aguni snaps, “wouldn’t stop fucking talking long enough for me to get away and meet someone.”

“Ooh, so bitchy! Seems like you could use a little more of whatever you just had,” Takeru runs a finger along the rim of his glass, smiling to himself when the friction creates a high-pitched hum, “if that’s a possibility, of course.”

Aguni feels a headache coming on. He runs at his temples in a (futile) attempt to stave it off.

“I don’t have time for your games, Takeru. If you want to ask me if this was a one-night stand, then ask me if it was a one-night stand.”

“Fine, then. Mori-chan,” Takeru places his glass on the table and turns to face Aguni. He pulls his legs up and hugs his shins close to himself, chin resting on his knobby knees—like a high school girl at a sleepover, “Did you give that mystery individual the fuck of a lifetime because you knew it was going to be a one-time thing...or because this is the start of something more?”

“I...” Aguni pauses, “I don’t know.”

Takeru’s brow furrows.

“Don’t look at me like that! I was, uh,” Aguni rubs the back of his neck uncertainly, “I thought we’d maybe have that conversation when I got back.”

Takeru tilts his head slightly to the left.

“Got back from where?”

“Here.”

“Mori-chan. Darling. Dearest,” Takeru places a hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping into the skin a little more with each passing moment, “do you mean to tell me that you...left your lover alone on a broken bed...to come talk to me?”

“No,” Aguni answers, “Left ‘em in the bath.”

“Oh my God...”

“What? I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“You are so cute and hopeless.”

Takeru scoots close enough to Aguni that their hips are touching, the arm that had been gripping his shoulder now slung around his mid-back.

“Picture it,” he says, reaching his other arm out in front of them as if grasping at a ghost of a dream, “your paramour—whoever they may be—sitting alone in a bathtub. Naked. Glistening.”

“...Glistening?”

“Sparkling, even.”

That is...oh dear. Aguni hadn’t thought of it like that. And now he can’t stop thinking about it. His mind’s eye is conjuring up a most hypnotic display, involving skin and steam and a crystalline droplets rolling down the length of a neck and—

“I put bubbles in,” he admits, voice soft and unfocused as he drifts in his daydream, “Lavender-scented.”

“That’s. Wow,” Takeru sighs, patting Aguni’s knee, “You’re a stronger man than I am, that’s for sure. I simply wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. I mean, you could be in there right now, but...you’re here with me instead.”

Something breaks in Aguni. Something he hadn’t been aware of before now, but was apparently a very important piece of whatever was keeping him from grabbing Takeru by the lapels and shaking him with all the strength and rage that has been building up for the past twenty minutes.

Because that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s grabbing Takeru by the lapels of his weird robe thing and shaking him within an inch of his life. He’s also yelling, something like ‘give me the goddamn room’ but it’s hard to hear over the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

“Not...the...silk,” Takeru begs—well, as much as a man being maliciously jostled can beg—while his hands attempt to loosen Aguni’s own from his outfit, “She didn’t...do anything...wrong!”

Aguni stops shaking him, but not because he wants to—no, he very much wants to continue shaking this annoying man until his head snaps off and flies out the window—but because Takeru has started to take on a bit of a sickly greenish tinge and Aguni is not in the mood to deal with that on top of everything else.

“I will tear that tacky thing to shreds if you don’t give me a new room,” he seethes, releasing his grip on Takeru altogether and enjoying the way the other man falls back slightly as he’s let go, “I snapped a fucking bed frame an hour ago; I could tear that and you in half without even trying.”

“Okay, but,” and Takeru winces, “I just...there’s a bit of a problem. Not...a ‘problem’ problem, but...I’m very worried about how you’ll react after that little outburst you just had.”

Great. Of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch with Takeru—but Aguni had been naive enough to think that his frustrating questionnaire had been it.

“There’s only one room available,” Takeru continues, as if he’s trying to calm a very angry horse or convince a toddler to do literally anything, “and it’s...well, it’s...the one next door.”

“You mean,” Aguni says very flatly, “the room next to this one?”

“Yes.”

“With the adjoining door?”

“Hit me if you want,” Takeru says, pressing himself against the arm of the couch and, therefore, as far away from Aguni’s anger as possible, “just...please don’t shake me again. My delicate constitution couldn’t possible take it.”

Aguni is reminded of a poem—the Robert Frost one about two roads in a wood or something like that. The way he figures, he’s got two roads in front of him right now: the ‘scream at Takeru and maybe shake him a little more and also refuse the room’ road versus the ‘it’s only one night and things couldn’t possibly get worse than they already are so take the room and maybe try to salvage the evening’ road.

Both are tempting.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was nicer than your current room. Good view, spacious, well-decorated,” he says, “Except for the credenza under the TV, that’s hideous. Wouldn’t be mad if you, y’know, decided to break that in the heat of the moment...”

Aguni must look positively murderous, because Takeru immediately switches into grovel mode, which includes various assorted platitudes and exclamations of ‘it was just a joke!’ and ‘please don’t kill me!’

It’s kind of funny, actually.

“Listen,” Takeru half-pleads, “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m over here. Hell, if I smoke enough weed, I won’t know I’m here, which will work out just great! I slip into a light coma, you slip into a comfortable bed with your sweetheart, and everybody’s happy.”

“You just want an excuse to get high.”

“No,” he answers confidently, “I want you to be happy and I want to get high. Use my mind-altering substances for good, not evil. You know, like a superhero. Or maybe even Jesus.”

Aguni decides not to bring Takeru’s half-joking-but-not-really God-complex into question, because that would launch him into an hour-long tirade about the importance of self-love and how he would be an excellent choice for the next mayor of Tokyo. And maybe he wouldn’t be the worst mayor Tokyo has ever had, but...well. He might not be very good at it, either.

And maybe it’s because he’s incapable of staying too horribly angry at his best friend for very long, but Aguni concludes that it’s best just to take the room and let the situation go. He’s had enough drama for one night.

“Fine,” Aguni finally says, “I’ll take it.”

And he moves to stand before Takeru can suck him in to another conversation.

“You know,” Takeru calls casually as Aguni begins to walk towards the door, “I still haven’t asked my third question...”

“You have got to be kidding—“

“But,” Takeru quickly interjects, “I don’t have to ask, because I already know that the answer is ‘yes.’”

“Hm?”

“Yes,” Takeru concludes with a wry smile, “you are happy. Even when you were about to about to slap me, I could see it written all over your face.”

Aguni feels...embarrassed. Again. He’s truly been on an emotional rollercoaster since stepping foot into Takeru’s room, and it’s almost poetic that he has managed to start and end his journey with a begrudging blush.

“Now, go,” Takeru says, shooing him off with a roll of his wrist, “get out of my sight and into bed with that sexy little secret you insist upon hiding from the rest of us!”

Aguni doesn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly makes his way towards the exit, his legs taking slightly-larger-than-normal strides as he attempts not to appear too giddy at the thought of returning to his lover. Maybe they can test out the bathtub in the new room. Or the shower. Or maybe just hang out in bathrobes and talk?

Honestly, he’s just excited to see them again. A nice, soothing presence. Something to help him decompress after...whatever the hell that just was with Takeru. There’s a seventy-five-percent chance that he’ll stay true to his word and be stoned out of his mind by the time they switch rooms, and a twenty-percent chance that he’ll spend the night pressed up against the door trying to listen in. The other five percent? That’s what Aguni likes to call the ‘wild card allotment’ because Takeru is...well, he’s just the kind of guy to do something completely unpredictable, and he likes to plan for that.

“Remember,” Takeru calls out just as Aguni is stepping out, “Break the credenza!”

And Aguni has never been happier to shut a door in his life.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

PS: the thing with throwing the statue of Colonel Sanders in the river is a thing that actually happened and I think it’s really funny so that’s why I put it in here. Plus, like. Takeru totally would.

[nonsensical-twistedriddles]

Ooh! If asks are open, can I ask you for a mermaid reader x dorm leaders+ octanivelle? Like, its canon that the mc is from another world, so what if she is a mermaid from a world where magic barely exists? Like, she can freely turn human at will but that's about it. Assuming that everyone has a crush on her, but hasn't confessed, how would they react to the reveal?

hello hello ! asks are usually open since i don’t have request limits and i write down all the ones i wanna do in my notebooks (or save them as drafts)ヾ(＠^∇^＠)ノ i get this strange sense of happiness when writing them all down with their categories and specific highlights. i hope you enjoy ! unrelated but someone said that lilia was like rei sakuma and hshshsh ive pulled out all my undead albums and started jamming to all the songs again,, call name, call name, we are undead!

📝to note: (1) i couldn’t write anything about vil ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ (2) length (and possibly comprehensibility) varies because i ran out of coffee at home and was half-asleep for most of these.

riddle rosehearts

Riddle had been reluctant to even participate in today’s swimming lesson but begrudgingly put on his attire and stood at the edge of the pool, glaring at the water as if it were an old enemy. It wasn’t a total loss, you were there-- nervously fidgeting beside him. He’s been crushing on you hard, to the point that his ears turn red and his stomach flutters with butterflies just with your presence.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see you anxiously eyeing the pool. “Are you feeling alright?” he asks you, voice laced with worry. Your reply came out garbled, like you were trying to say something but somehow forgotten how to speak. He leaves you alone then but would occasionally glance at you, concerned.

When it was time for you to showcase your swimming capabilities, all the worry Riddle had for you simply washed away the instant your legs transformed into a mermaid’s tail fin. 

He tries to be nonchalant about it but couldn’t help gawking at you as you did your laps. When you finish and settle to prop yourself up on the edge of the pool in front of him, you catch him staring at you. “It’s strange, isn’t it,” you say, sheepishly smiling to yourself as you collect your wet hair into your hands then wring all the water out of the strands.

“N-No!” he shakes his head with raised hands. “You don’t look strange at all, if anything you’re probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen-!” he blurts out, before bringing his hands up to silence his traitorous mouth. You stare at him with wide eyes. “O-Oh, I-,” you fumbled for words as your cheeks tinge red like blooming roses. “I see.”

After that, a silence settles itself in the air, rendering the two of you into amiable discomfiture.

“Rosehearts, it’s your turn!” 

Ashton’s booming voice makes you both jolt, ruining the moment. Reluctantly, he smiles at you and heads off.

leona kingscholar

You always had a weird fishy smell to you. 

At first, he thought nothing of this and continued to hang around you from time to time. “You know what her scent reminds me of?” Ruggie had told him once while handing him a sandwich from the cafeteria. “She kind of smells like the Leech brothers.” 

“What do you mean?”

Ruggie scratches the back of his head. “They’ve got that sea smell to them, you know? Like how most merfolk do.”

Since that day, he’s been trying to find out why you smelled that way. You were magicless so he wasn’t about to jump into conclusions but after doing a little digging and investigating on it for weeks, all evidence pointed to one thing. He didn’t want to pry anything out of you so he kept his mouth shut until the day you revealed it to him.

It was during PE class. You had told Leona that you wanted to tell him something before going over to the school’s swimming pool. He had played it cool and quietly waited on you to say what you wanted to tell him. 

“Leona, I’m actually a mermaid,” you say with downcast eyes while twiddling your thumbs.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I know it’s hard to believe but— wait what? You know? How?”

The surprised look on your face makes him chuckle. He gives you a moment to take it all in before going into full detail on how he found out; “You honestly reek of fish.”

azul ashengrotto

Azul thought he knew everything that there is to you. From your hobbies to your favourite music genre to your secret comfort place inside Night Raven College. You happily indulged all of his impudent questions. Yes, you preferred ice cream over cake. Yes, you were losing sleep because of Grim’s snoring. No, you don’t hate him and never thought any less of him after his overblot episode.

He liked your transparency-- admired it even. Around you, he felt like he was underwater but instead of having the constant sense of dread, he was at ease in the waters of your presence. There was never any need to worry over being judged. 

Now when you had asked him to show you around his hometown and he had told you to wear something casual, he hadn’t exactly expected you to show up as a mermaid. You were so stunning that he lost his composure just from the sight of you.

“Did you-,” he clears his voice, “Did you drink a potion?” 

Laughing, you reply, “No, this is what I really am.”

What you really were. Azul shamelessly examined you for a while as he took you to see boutiques and cafes, envious of your tail’s pale rounded scales and stylish web-like dorsal fins but all the while swooning over how breathtakingly beautiful you looked. When you had asked him if he was comfortable enough to change forms, he lets out a nervous laugh then hides his flustered face. 

“I’d rather not embarrass you.”

floyd leech

Floyd had always found you interesting, it’s why he liked to keep close to you.

Whenever you were around, his heart would thump so fast in his chest that he’d grin and run up to you. “Little shrimp~!” was his usual greeting, his voice jingly as he takes you into his arms. He’d never tell you but he liked having you in his arms, as much as it terrified you to even be enveloped in them. 

“That’s what you do when you hunt down people!” you complained, “I’m never sure if you’d just like to greet me or if I’ve done something wrong every time I see you.”

“Ah~ That’s the fun in it though!” he said, flashing his sharp teeth at you. 

When you transformed in front of him, his eyes widened in delighted surprise. He takes your mermaid form in, ooh-ing and aah-ing at “-how pretty you looked!” before taking you around Octavinelle’s waters and making you participate in make-up competitions just so that he could get to see how fast you swam or strong you were.

jade leech

Jade always had his suspicions. 

He wasn’t sure when it started but subconsciously he kept note of the things you did and said before coming into the realization that you have become someone very dear to him. You always spoke about the sea with a fondness that made it seem as if it were your home and frequently asked him to tag along with you to swim around and explore his dorm despite having already done so before. When you had asked him to wait then transformed in front of him before taking him out around Octavinelle, he couldn’t help but feel comforted at the fact that you trusted him enough to reveal this long held secret. 

“You’re not mad?” you asked him, shyly peering at him from behind a bed of seaweed. He gives you his signature Jade Leech smile, one that made it seem like he was laughing at your very notion and finding you amusingly silly. 

“No, not all,” he says, his eyes crinkling, “in fact, I feel very honored that you’ve told me.”

kalim al-asim

Kalim grew up in the land of Hot Sands where, instead of water, the waves were made of gold shimmering grains and that “swimming” in it would leave you parched and drenched in sweat (he would know, he learned that the hard way!). Now swimming always brought a smile to his face. Partying in pools and sharing laughs with your friends, those were certainly fun!

Though today’s visit to the pool was more of an academic requirement than a time for leisure, Kalim still beamed brighter than any star because he was taking his PE swimming class with the light of his heart: you!

Like a toddler, he swung his feet over the edge of the pool and dipped them into the water beside you. “Aaahhh~ Today’s going to be a really great day!” he twitters on, making you chuckle at his childlike enthusiasm. “Really? Why’s that?” you ask him, sinking your own two legs into the pool and looking at him intently. Kalim, suddenly growing self conscious because of your gaze, looks away and rubs the back of his neck. “Well-” he starts, letting his confidence ease back into him as he meets your eyes, “because I’ll be swimming with you!”

You blink at his words. For a second, you stare at him in surprise but his smile gets to you and makes you laugh. “Yeah, it does feel kinda great.”

When Ashton calls you up to the platform, Kalim positions himself at the other end of the pool and cheers you on. “Go Y/N! Go~!”

Ashton’s whistle blows a second later, making you jump. Kalim eyes widen as he watches you transform mid-air before plunging into the pool. When you surfaced, his heart was sent into a frenzy. Your hair and scales twinkled and your eyes, bright and demure-- you looked like a goddess, emerging from the sea to claim his soul. 

The second you change back and dried off, he pops up beside you with gleaming eyes and bombards you with countless praises and questions: “You looked so cool!” “Can you control your shift?” “Your scales were such a pretty bright colour!” “Do you think we can go to sea adventures together?”

idia shroud

Idia didn’t really want to be here.

The only reason he was was because his brother insisted on it and managed to drag him to class before he could properly lock the door. If he knew that PE today was going to be a swimming class, he would’ve persisted to not come at all.

“Ah, this sucks,”Idia mutters under his breath as thoughts of what could have happened if he weren’t here swarmed his mind, feeding into his growing bitterness. Clicking his tongue, he folds his legs into his chest and frowns into his knees then stares at the clear shimmering surface of the pool water.

“What sucks?”

Idia jolts at the sound of your voice in his ear. He moves his head a fraction to the right and somehow almost kisses you with how close your face was to his. Instead your noses touch, surprising you both. “Y-Y-N?” your name sputters out of his lips as his face flushes at the sight of your smile. He squirms to get away from you but only manages to get a few breaths in before slipping.

As he lays on the ground, feeling completely defeated, he brings a forearm over to cover his eyes from the sun’s mocking glare. Ah, the gods are so cruel.

“Idia, are you okay?”

“Aghhhhhhhhhh...”

You helped him up and, though he kept his head low while quietly cursing the gods, he seemed okay. Idia knew you wanted to stay with him out of kindness but when Ashton signaled your group to the platforms, you gave him a small smile and reluctantly headed over to the other end of the pool. 

Without you near him anymore, Idia found the strength to breathe again. Quietly, he makes his way over to a secluded corner to rest while keeping his eyes trained on you in the distance. He watches as your complexion changes and thin colourful appendages grow out of your arms and intertwined legs. Along with the heated gaze of the sun, all the shimmering lights that bounced off your scales and illuminated the tiles into a frenzy of dancing colours dizzied him to the point of passing out. As he slips into the depths of his consciousness, a thought echoes in his mind that was far too overwhelming for him to even continue to think about. 

My crush is a mermaid.

malleus draconia

You and “Tsuno tarou” were running away from a couple of students that he claims to be after him and somehow managed to to end up hiding behind a rock formation in the outskirts of the Octavinelle dorm. He had used some kind of magic of the two of you to prevent drowning and getting wet and though you were impressed by his incredible magic capabilities, you had no time to express your amazement as he quietly drags you away to hide.

“Why on earth are they after you anyways?” you asked Tsuno tarou, who shrugs from behind you. “They like to keep me under close surveillance.” he replies curtly before peering over your shoulder to watch your two chasers bicker and look around the area. You puckered out your lips at his complete lack of explanation, turning to face him with folded arms, “What do you mean by that? Just-,”

“There! I see someone!” one of them exclaims from behind you, causing you to turn back around and catch a pair of blue eyes staring right at you.

You internally groan as the two of them start swimming towards your hiding place. “Well, I suppose there’s no way out of this. It’s a shame that I’ll have to stop seeing you every night,” Tsuno tarou says from behind you, disappointed. Huffing at his gutted attitude, you face him and take hold of his forearm.

“You and I both know that it’d just be the gargoyles you’d miss because you think that the moonlight ‘encapsulates their pulchritude’,” you tell him before taking in a deep breath and closing off all of your thoughts. “You better start talking about all this later, Tsuno tarou.”

He gives you a confused look then opens his mouth as if to tell you something but you look away and concentrate on transforming. When bands of scales erupted to replace the soft surface of your skin and your legs coiled into each other, you pulled on his weight and began swimming away as fast as you could.

To Malleus, you looked mystical. He didn’t know that you were a mermaid but wasn’t all too shocked to see you transform and gracefully dart across the ocean floor with him in tow. “I meant what I said about missing you Y/N,” he says, catching your attention. You let yourself look back at him for a brief moment before averting your gaze from the intensity of his stare; he told you the truth. Your cheeks grow warm despite the coolness of the water. 

“Oh…”

[oligbia]

Rat

Chapter 3

Previous chapter · Table of contents

Requests are open <3

If you want added to my taglist for rat please let me know <3

The first week of classes at UA went by with ease. Hero training was intense, a current focus on strength building right now, but Mr.Aizawa was already speaking about a future plan to start working on quirk development and teamwork.  The academic classes quickly started to pick up in lessons, tests and deadlines already approaching. You found the material pretty mundane, topics you had studied before. However, like she had promised, Hado did frequently need help. 

She asked for help during Friday afternoons, a way to review the week’s materials. The two of you were seated in your living room, the Musutafu heat still brutal. Hado was sprawled out on your floor, acting as if she was about to melt. Beads of sweat formed along your hairline, you peered over your books to look at Hado. 

“Hado, it really isn’t that warm. You need to do this work before it gets late.”

Hado groaned, rolling from her back to her stomach, resting her head on her hands. “C’mon L/N!” We should at least take a break! You can’t work in this heat!”

You rolled your eyes. You had to admit to yourself, a break did sound sort of nice. “Fine, but after that we need to do things. We have a math test on Monday.” 

You hopped up, getting a few popsicles from the freezer. You brought them back, offering her a cherry one. She humed contently, taking the popciple into her mouth, licking at it. You enjoyed your own, giving into the heat. 

“We’ll start doing team ups in training soon, and I was thinking about it.” Hado’s voice was casual. She still managed to take you by surprise every time she brought up hero training. She never seemed like the kind to be thinking that far ahead. 

“What about?”

“Well, as great as you are, you're not good for combat like Amajiki or I would be.”  

You tried to hold back your displeasure. You were aware you didn’t have a conventional quirk for being a hero. You couldn’t really teach all the rats in the world combat, and rats are only so deadly. Hand to Hand combat wasn’t something you were particularly keen with, so that was out of the question. You were going to fall behind soon if you didn’t figure it out. You knew you wouldn't be a combat hero, you were best off being a rescue and recovery hero, but you still had to pull ahead in class somehow. 

“But, I think you could play an3 important role in our teams!” 

Your eyes locked with Hado’s as she bit off the end of her popsicle. You gave her a look that tried to convey you wanted to hear more. She looked at you, whispering a small ‘oh!’.

“See, Amajiki is really good at close combat. And I’m good at far away combat. But, if we are both busy, we can’t see what's happening around us. Because if we want to fight off villains while also rescuing, we need a third person, and that's you, L/N-chan!” 

You blinked, following her. She was smarter than she would ever let on, once you get over the fact she struggles with math. “Are you suggesting that I would play some kind of control center type role?”

Hado nodded, “Mhm! You are like, the one keeping us safe, while also doing the rescuing to let us focus more on the fighting! Then, if it gets bad, you can come in like backup!” She threw a handful of fake punches, pretending like she was fighting some invisible villain, eventually falling to play dead. She whispered through her pretend dead act, “See, this is when you come to rescue me.”

A small smile grew on your face, finding her amusing. You didn’t know many heroes who worked in a support hero role. Thinking on it, you suppose a hero like Mr.Aizawa or 13 are the closest you could think of. The idea wasn’t undesirable, it was probably better for you. 

“If you wanted to try it out, I think that Amajiki and his friend, Toagta, are going to go train tomorrow morning. We could always join them.” 

You shrugged. “Maybe, we need to do this week’s academics first. You can't be a hero if you flunk out of first year.” 

***

No human should ever willingly wake up before the sun is up. But, there Hado was, throwing tiny pebbles at your window at the crack of dawn. You had learned a few things about Hado in the week you’ve known her: She was incredibly stubborn, She was extremely kind, She was smarter than she let on, She was never going to understand the quadratic equation, And she was never tired.

You threw the covers off you, opening the window. The summer air was cooler now, waking you up by sending a chill up your spine. You yelled down at her as quietly as you could. “Hado! What the hell are you doing?”

“L/N, are you not a morning person?” She pouted, not appreciating her harsh language. 

“It’s…” You looked at your alarm clock, horrified, “It’s 4AM Hado! What do you want?” 

“Training with the boys, silly! C’mon, the train leaves in, like, 20 minutes!” 

You rolled your eyes. You were already awake, might as well go. You threw on some hero tee shirt and shorts, pulling a zip-up jacket over your shoulders. You ran down the stairs, leaving a note for your grandad, and left the house. 

Hado waited at the door, rolling between the balls of her feet and her heels. “C’mon slow poke! We’re going to be late!” 

Nejre linked elbows with you, pulling you alongside her. The two of you sprinted to the pretty much empty train, hopping on right before it rook off. The two of you stood together, holding into the upper rail. Hado smiled, watching the land and city pass by through the window. 

You hadn’t done any training with someone, or really much training at all. You had done some stamina training and a little muscle work, but when it came to the entrance exam, no one was really sure what to expect, so you didn't have much of an idea for what training to do beforehand. You knew that one on one training with Hado and Amajiki was maybe possible- you weren't sure either of them had any idea how to do hand to hand combat either.

The train stopped at your platform, Hado flashing you her sweet smile before walking out. You followed behind her, like a baby duck following its mother. The two of you made your way to the beach, the morning sun slowly rising from the sky. 

“I’m not really sure what to expect, honestly. I think Amajiki said his friend had a really powerful quirk though.” 

You nodded, remembering Amajiki’s friend. He was the blond who frequently could be caught frequently staring at you unapologetically. You kinda remember his dark blue eyes, they were always somewhat inviting and equally unsettling. 

The two of you finally approached the beach, Amajiki’s figure able to be made out in the morning’s shadow. Hado ran before you, messing with Amajiki’s hair when she reached him, thanking him for inviting you both. You gave him a small wave, which he returned with a small nod. 

“Mirio is over there, he was stuck in something. He is probably fine now.” 

“Stuck?” you asked, confused about what someone could get stuck in at the beach at close to 5 AM. 

“His quirk- sometimes he gets a little stuck in objects.” 

Hado giggled, “C’mon sillies! Let’s go!” She locked grabbed both of your wrists, both of you being drug behind her as she wandered into the beach.

Hado and you ended up seperating from the other two, Hado walking you through how to use your upper arm as a defense from someone else’s punch. You weren’t bad at the blocking part, it was the anticipating and timing that kept throwing you off. The two of you were just taking turns at throwing fake punches at the other, quickly getting into a rhythm. 

“Do you know what you want your hero name to be? We get to pick those soon.” Hado threw a jab your way, your arm barely making it up intime to shield your face. 

You shook your head, throwing one back at her. “Not really-”

Hado shrugged as she flawlessly defended herself. She was defending herself easily but her jabs felt weaker in comparison to yours. She threw a jab at you, your arm not reaching her in time, her weak blow landing in your shoulder. 

You looked at her defeated. She moved her shoulder in circles. “L/N, you need to teach me how you throw punches. Mine are weak.”

You tossed your jacket aside. “Well, with a quirk like yours you really don't need to be able to throw punches. You have a distance advantage.” 

Hado beamed, “You remembered!” 

You shrugged, “It was a solid plan, Hado. I remember good ideas.” 

The two of you heard a large bang in the distance. Amajiki looked like he had somehow turned his arms into long strands of seaweed, trapping Togata. Except-

“Is he naked?” Hado said it before you could. Togata was most definitely naked, and he was waving at the two of you from a small confinement of seaweed that definitely did not hide more than you wanted to see. 

Hado broke into a fit of laughter as your face turned bright red. You had never talked to Togata, but you had somehow already seen him naked. 

Hado pulled you behind her as she ran to the boys. 

“Amajiki, you can turn into more than just animals?!” 

Your face was still burning red as you avoided the glances Togata was most definitely sending your way. His voice was chipper as He broke himself free from Tamaki’s comfinments. “His quirk lets him manifest to living things- plants are technically living.”

“Could he turn into a person then, like if he ate their blood or flesh or something?” Hado poked at Amajiki’s seaweed arm that was still attempting to cover Togata’s privates. 

Amajiki looked at Hado with panicked eyes and babbled about anxiously, “Why would I ever eat a human-”

Toagata pulled a pair of pants on, “Sorry about that ladies, it's hard to control my pants when I use my quirk!” 

Hado smiled innocently, somehow unphased by the very naked boy infront of her. “It's alright! My name is Nejire Hado, and this is my friend Y/N L/N! She’s a little anti-social, so you won't hear much from her.” 

You looked at the ground, mumbling. “I’m not anti-social, just uninterested in conversation right now.” 

Togata fastened the belt on his pants, “Oh well that's too bad! I’ll just have to talk to you another time!” 

You let out a “mhm” trying to be polite, but it was hard when you had just seen this kid naked. Hado didn’t seem to pick up on your discomfort. “Togata, you’ll have to ask L/N about her quirk sometime, it's really cool! Oh! And she can tell you about hero equipment! She knows all about it.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know all about it, just basic stuff. I’m able to read, I'm not a support student.” 

Togata smiled warmly, “That's still more than me. I’ve never been a good student,  that's why I wasn’t able to get into 1-A!” 

You blinked. How was he so upbeat while literally calling himself dumb?

“Well, me and L/N need to go finish up our training! We’ll see you boys later.” Hado sang the end of her statement, waving the two a goodbye. Tamaki nodded and Mirio waved frantically as the two of you wandered off to finish some training. 

When you were gone, Mirio turned to Amajiki. “Tamaki, what is L/N’s quirk?” 

“Something with rats. She’s able to control them somehow. I’ve really only ever seen her use it a few times.” 

Mirio’s smile grew into a small frown, a finger scratching his chin as he watched you and Hado throw some more punches around. 

“That seems like a neat quirk, why wouldn’t she want to develop it.”

Amajiki smiled, almost laughing. He placed a gentle hand on Mirio’s shoulder, smiling at the blond. “Not all of us are praised for our quirks, Mirio. She may still need to come around to it.”

Mirio nodded, looking at the violet haired boy. “Huh. Alright.” Mirio watched a little longer as you nailed Hado in the shoulder, frantically apologizing. He smiled softly, something about you undeniably drawing him in. “Let’s go mess around more, Tamaki. I bet if you ate some crab you could make little pinchers!” 

[decks-writing-blog]

Inconveniently Undead

First of all this is my 300th fic posted on Ao3! Which is a huge number so I wanted it to be something special and after some thought decided on doing some original fiction. So this is also my first piece of published original fiction which is scary but still cool too. So this is pretty exciting and scary. I had fun writing this though and honestly think I'm gonna do more in the future with these characters as well as likely others.

-

Who better to figure out how to achieve immortality than a necromancer? Someone who’d devoted their life to understanding life, death, and the magic of souls. Gwen had begun studying it out of pure academic curiosity; was it actually possible to achieve or just a vain hunt of fools who feared death above all else? Many magic users had taken steps towards trying to gain at least a semblance of being immortal. Halting the aging process was fairly easy for anyone with sufficient magical skill and strength. Making oneself much more resilient to damage and disease was much harder but still a well-known thing that could be done even if it was only with a few types of magic. Many tried for more than that, wanting to become truly unkillable but all, as far as anyone knew, failed. Several bad enough that they’d ended up dead instead. As part of his study, Gwen had looked over all their notes and had chats with more than a few of their ghosts, bringing to light at least a some of the things they’d done wrong. As a result of all of it he’d begun to piece together something that might actually work. It was impossible to know without testing it though.

Which, inevitably is what brought him to his basement, feeling far more exhausted and drained than he could ever remember feeling before even back when he’d been a young elfling just starting to dabble in powerful magics. He’d expected as much – thinking a spell meant to grant immortality wouldn’t be exhausting to perform would’ve been beyond stupid – but the reality of it still somehow felt surprising. But hey at least his calculations had been correct; he’d survived it.

Shaking off some of the mental fog that came with such exhaustion, he stood up. Also unsurprisingly, the spell had taken hours; his magic enhancing candles had burnt low, a few had even gone out entirely, making the room quite dark. Vyla, sitting on her perch, was almost impossible to see within it. The only thing that gave her away was the dim candle light dancing off her polished black scales as she lightly flexed her wings, ready to leap over if Gwen needed her.

She prodded at his mind, wanting to know if it had worked. She hoped so, she didn’t want him to ever die. Another reason he’d decided to try it was at her insistence and her point about how he wouldn’t be able to continue any of his studies if he died.

“I don’t know.” Answering out loud wasn’t necessary but right now he was too tired to bother replying through their soul link. “Think I should test it?”

‘NO!’ Vyla accompanied her mental command with a hiss, digging her claws into her perch and lashing her tail. Testing it would mean taking what would normally be certain fatal damage and thus was not worth it.

She was right of course. If it had failed then testing it would end with Gwen dead which would be unideal. Still though it was aggravating to not know for certain. He’d know one day considering how many people hated necromancers for no good reason; attempts on his life, though not frequent by any means, weren’t uncommon. One of these days someone would come along who could get a fatal blow on him. That was unlikely though so it’d be a long time before it actually happened. Perhaps he could think up another way to learn how effective it had been later when he wasn’t so tired.

For now though he lifted an arm towards Vyla. “Let’s go get some sleep.” Before he collapsed and slept for hours on the cold concrete floor of his basement. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that so he knew from experience how unpleasant it was to wake up from.

She leaped off her perch, gliding over to land on his forearm. Where she scrambled up his dark cloak – made especially to be able to withstand her claws – to rest on his shoulder. Yes, sleep was good, he needed it and should really listen to her more when she told him to go to bed.

Too tired to respond to her, he turned and quickly blew out the last few remaining candles before heading up the stairs. The undead guard at the top moved aside as he opened the door. He should probably send it out to guard the front door with its two companions but he couldn’t be bothered right now and just continued on his way instead.

On his way down the hall towards his room he caught an unfortunate glimpse of himself in the mirror hung up tackily on the wall at the halfway point – put there by the prior owner of the house and left alone because he didn’t care enough to bother with moving it. His dark skin hid the bags under his eyes fairly well but didn’t do much more than that. He looked like shit even more so than usual. Vyla pushed into his mind with the thought that he could do with a shower as he also didn’t smell great. Not right now though, he was far too tired.

In his room, Vyla jumped off his shoulder as he pushed the door shut, gliding over to her cat-tree like perch that included her nest. Gwen didn’t bother undressing or even taking off his shoes before collapsing into his bed next to it. He was asleep within seconds.

A few days later

Gwen had lived here long enough by now that most of the people passing by the park bench he’d chosen to people watch on today paid him no mind; they were used to his presence in their little nowhere town. He did still get a few unhappy looks though, all rooted in fear or anger and hate that masked it. They were fools to think he’d bother with any of them in any way.

I could perform the spell on someone else and then test to see if it worked on them. He sent to Vyla, giving no indication that he was communicating with her.

Hidden somewhere in the trees behind him Vyla replied with general curiosity about who he might have in the mind for that.

Gwen did the mental equivalent of a shrug. Just some random nobody probably, no doubt it wouldn’t take much to find a volunteer. He just wanted to know if he’d actually discovered the key to immortality or not.

Vyla hissed in his mind. That was a stupid idea. If it had worked he’d be granting immortality to some random nobody which could have very bad consequences.

Probably a fair point but it might be worth it to know. Though the question of who he’d try that on was a moot point right now. He was still recovering from performing the spell on himself and wouldn’t be up to doing it again for probably at least a month. And even then, right after regaining his full magical strength he wouldn’t want to immediately use it all up again. So he had some time before he had to decide who…

Vyla interrupted with another mental hiss, this one a warning. She sensed the approach of another thing or being that radiated magic energy, a fairly powerful signature too. Not too unusual, the town was near the border of an Enchanted Forest, a small one but still enough to draw various kinds of magic users and carries of magic items. So it was probably fine but no one of Gwen and Vyla’s renown and magical strength got to live as long as they had so far without a hearty dose of caution about such things.

Normally Gwen wouldn’t be concerned. He could take almost anyone either with his magic directly or via summoning his undead guards. Today though, so soon after performing the most powerful spell ritual he’d ever cast, he barely felt like he’d be up to even preservation magics, forget anything that could be effectively used in combat or pulling even one of his guards to himself. … It would probably be fine though. So he stayed put, not letting his concern show physically.

Vyla was already moving to find the source of the magic, maintaining the mental link with Gwen to keep him updated. It didn’t take her long, the fellow wasn’t trying to mask their presence. She sent a mental image that though not totally clear – as all mental images tended to be – was clear enough. The fellow wore light leather armor, dyed black and partially hidden under a black cloak. They made no attempt at concealing the bastard sword, sheathed in a dark red scabbard on their hip. That sword was what Vyla was sensing, it was heavily enchanted. Which didn’t bode well but still didn’t have to mean this person was here for Gwen.

It wasn’t long before he caught sight of them with his own eyes. They strode down the path with all the usual stomping grace of a pompous soldier who expected everyone else to hurry to get out of their way. Their skin was gray, indicating they had dwarf blood in them but the roundness of their features and only slightly less than average height – compared to the folk around here anyway who were mostly humans – indicated they had far more human blood. Their gaze seemed to lock onto Gwen as they increased their pace. Dang, so they were here for him after all. That was less than ideal.

It had been a long time since he last had cause to worry about an encounter with one of the many people who he’d made enemies of over the years. And so as a result he was maybe less worried than was necessary given how weak he was. He could probably handle them with just words though, they didn’t know he’d spent all his magic a few days ago after all. So he remained seated, lounging on the bench as the fellow approached, stopping in front of him to glare at him.

“I finally found you necromancer.” Their voice sounded what Gwen, thanks to long association with humans, now knew what humans thought of as feminine. That didn’t mean much though.

“Yep. You found me. Congrats.”

Their glare grew even more intense at his deadpan tone. “I heard you fled again and were attempting to hide from justice in a small town. All the while continuing your blasphemy against Lady Death.”

Ah, one of those people, huh? Most folk who worshipped the god of death were decent perfectly reasonable people. Certain sects of them however had decided to take it upon themselves to try to speak for their deity and declare necromancers – among other things but mostly necromancers – as unholy and blasphemous, completely unaware and unwilling to accept that Death actually enjoyed the game necromancers played against her. Such people were especially obnoxious.

Gwen wasn’t in the mood. … And Vyla, watching from a nearby tree, was starting to get worried, her anxiety beating strongly against his mind. She didn’t like this person and their seeming inclination towards violence. With how weakened Gwen was he might get hurt or worse. So he should leave right now.

Very well, he said to her as he stood up. She was being a bit overly worried but he didn’t want to deal with this regardless. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.” He tried to step around her but she sidestepped to block his path.

“Not so fast! I’m not just going to let you walk away.” They drew their sword in a fluid motion that indicated they were quite familiar with it. The blade was slivery blue and glowed with a dark light; not just any magic sword but one enchanted with Lady Death’s magic. That was a fairly big deal actually. “Fight me, coward.”

‘Run!’ Vyla sent with even more anxiety.

But even if he’d been so inclined, Gwen didn’t exactly have time to. Instead he lifted his hand to make a summoning gesture, focusing his mind and magic into transporting his guard here. What little magic he had left lurched jarringly within him as the spell failed. He stumbled physically too, practically right into the sword coming his way.

Pain worse than he’d ever felt before seared through him as it pushed through his chest and heart – perhaps it was luck or perhaps the fellow knew elves’ hearts were located on the right. Vyla screamed in his mind and out loud somewhere. He wanted to look up at her and comfort her but… nothingness already ate at his vision, leaving only the surprised face as the human-dwarf hybrid visible. He didn’t have enough magic to even try to sustain himself through this. What horribly coincidental timing, huh? Well on the bright side he was going to see if his immortality spell had worked. Except he was already starting to…

~

“…didn’t know such a little dragon could do that.”

“It took her by surprise, jumping out of the tree like that and going straight for the throat. Really nasty things, dark dragons.”

“Well now they’re both dead. So what do we do?”

“Call the cops I guess.”

“Wait, wait, I want her sword.”

“Nah, didn’t you hear she’s one of them holy knights for Death. You don’t wanna mess with that kind of thing, trust me.”

As the voices pulled Gwen further and further towards consciousness, he became more and more aware of Vyla’s panic. She didn’t know what was going on, only that it was bad. Their soul link wasn’t broken but wasn’t Gwen dead? He looked dead and smelled dead and he’d just been…

I’m fine, he said to her, having to mentally yell it in order to break through her panicked thoughts. He didn’t feel great and in fact felt quite horrible, but he certainly wasn’t dead.

Her relief washed against him, intense enough to boost his mood too. As she rushed over, he forced himself to sit up. It took far more effort than he would’ve thought and caused quite the medley of gasps as the folk crowding around took a step back. Ignoring them, he looked around at his surroundings.

He was on he ground at the park, in front of the bench, that tracked with what he was starting to recall. The human-dwarf fellow lay a short distance away. Their face and body contorted with pain, blood blossomed out of their throat, pooling on the ground; Vyla had gone for the jugular and seems to have gotten it.

Speaking of Vyla, she sat nearby, looking up at him. She was extremely relieved but still distraught. ‘Still smell like death.’ He looked like he should be dead as well as far as she was concerned. Odd.

“Can necromancers bring themselves back from the dead now too?” someone in the gathered crowed asked. It was a hushed question, not directed at Gwen but instead the others in the crowd who all took it upon themself to answer.

Gwen didn’t bother to try to listen and sort of their muttered words, instead he looked around some more. Where was the sword? Hadn’t he been… Oh! It was still sticking through his chest, right where his heart was. Blood covered part of its blade and soaked down his front. It hurt but not nearly as much as such a wound should, it was a distant pain, more just uncomfortable really. And… no throbbing. His heart wasn’t beating.

So… his spelled had worked? He was immortal now? Unkillable? A good explanation, the only viable one for sure. No matter how strong one’s magical resilience, getting stabbed through the heart, especially with a magic sword, wasn’t something that could be survived. He seemed have to though so his spell had worked! … Except something was wrong. He was… undead. Yes, that would be the proper way to put it.

As an expert in death and undeath, he would know. His body was dead but his soul still inhabited it. It hadn’t left and then been put back in like how souled undead usually were. Such beings always had spotty connections to their body/vessel, his wasn’t like that but instead still as strong as if his were body were still living. Didn’t make him any less undead though, he wasn’t even breathing anymore. Such a strange phenomenon.

Vyla pushed into his mind, inserting her distress. How could he be so mostly unworried about this? He was dead! That was bad! How was he not freaking out the way she was?

He wasn’t okay with it by any means but he was still here and that beat being a ghost or worse being absorbed into the land of the dead. … His body was going to start rotting now though. That was going to be a pain to deal with. Perhaps if he weren’t still out of magic he could use some restoration magic – of the magics he could use that was his weakest but that was only relative to how strong he was with other forms of magic – he could heal up and revive himself. But even with the strongest of preservation methods, magical and mundane combined, a full revival had to be done almost immediately if it was going to be successful. And on top of that it was a difficult spell to perform and took a lot of magical energy. There was no way he was going to be able to do it right now. Meaning he was most likely going to be stuck as undead for who even knows how long. How inconvenient.

Jerking back into motion he lifted a hand to grasp the sword’s hilt and pull it out of his chest. It hurt more coming out but still not as bad as one would expect – there seemed to at least be some benefits to being undead. He tossed it to the ground, swords weren’t his style even when the rare occasions he used weaponry. He then extended a forearm for Vyla to climb up. She did so a bit reluctantly because she was still freaked out by this new development. As she clambered up to his shoulder, he stood up.

“I have places to be,” he said as he started walking. The people in his way gasped and hurriedly moved, giving him a wide berth, even more unnerved by him than usual. At least they weren’t putting up a fight though.

He felt numb and weird as he walked. At least his immortality spell had worked though, even if it was only partially. He was still physically present within this world and thus able to interact with it and continue his work. … Would this affect his magic though? If so, to what extent? He was just going to have to wait and see on that. First though he needed to focus on returning to his lab to do whatever could be done to delay and possibly prevent the rotting his body would no doubt soon start doing. After that he could worry about everything else being undead would mean for him.

[ranmanjuu]

not a request but can you imagine oda forces trying to play smash against the anti-oda or they all play minecraft together

i’ll expose myself here. i have never ever played smash (although minecraft steve being announced is super pog) so i can’t tell ya that part bud. but i can with the blok game. (disclaimer that this request was made after i closed it yet my heart said No, you actually Want to do this so here i am. most probably will be short).

‎

welcome folks, to SengokuSMP.

oda forces:

—nobunaga:

would be the one that steals your iron and shit. commits thefts willy nilly, and no one is exempt from this. if he needs it, he’ll get it with or without your consent.

would kill an iron golem for the few iron it gives

before he got his own base (cause i think he’d just spend most of his time mining and getting materials to protect himself) he’s probably just barge in the nearest bed and sleep in it, regardless of the owner.

his base would probably be built by hideyoshi or sumthn.

he prefers playing pvp more than just survival. since mc placed a kind of restriction for the end (and therefore blocking them from completing the game), he goes onto servers and practice his battles even in a block game.

1.9 axe-shield pvp. he’s tactical in knowing when to strike and block and to back down, and is immaculate with his crits.

—hideyoshi:

probably spends the first few days around nobunaga to protect him. he always fights off the mobs near him even if nobunaga can handle himself.

always reminds people to sleep every night, so that the phantoms don’t come. even though a lot of the players prefer to just stay up.

built a base for nobunaga near his mine cause he needs A Place and not just mooch furnaces and beds from other people.

spawned iron golems for “protection” but nobunaga keeps killing them cause it just gets in the way

would be the one to make mines 4 blocks high so you don’t Bump your head thing, probably like 3 block width and even staircases. would also be the one to make a safety railing across any bridges he finds.

if an ally, he’d greet new players and give them some extra stuff so that they have Something to start off with

i feel like he’d be a pve player idk why

—mitsuhide:

no one knows where he is most of the time. nor his base.

unless you see his nametag (which, most of the time, he’ll see yours first) it’s kinda hard to find him when he’s off and alone.

mf is the black market of the server. whatever potions, potion ingredients, or shit like that, he has. he probably owns like several wither skulls enough to summon a wither.

he would sneak around when mc is mining and just like. scare the shit out of them. the cave noises don’t help.

(the newest screenshot hasn’t been released yet but,) y’all know the warden? the new mob? cause it’s reliant on sounds, if anyone is ever in its proximity he’d throw like snowballs at them so that it goes after them. little shit.

bow skills?? perfect. even in a game his accuracy is spot on. you know those obstacles people make with like slime blocks and maybe mlg 360s? mf can do that

he probably knows enough redstone to make traps, too.

somehow knows what everyone has/doesn’t have.

—masamune:

prank ass bitch.

he probably has like a Source of tnts in his base or something. if anyone is moving out of their old base, he’ll either blow it up or burn it, whether they wanted to or not.

fuck it. he’ll do it even if you’re not moving.

probably doesn’t often sleep and would rather fight off the phantoms than anything.

he probably wants to defeat the dragon quick, cause it’s supposed to be the game’s ultimate goal. but because of the previous restrictions you put, he just goes off and fights other players (cough kenshin, nobunaga)

and when he does kill you, expect like half of your items to not be returned.

also one of the casual thieves in the server. he just doesn’t care that it Belongs to someone and just yoinks

also a pvp player, although i find him leaning more to 1.8 style. he will jitter click you out of existence.

has dogs because idk he gives off that vibe also they Attack.

—ieyasu:

does not log on much lol. he got on once and then Never Again. it’s only when you ask him that he begrudgingly does get in in his own contrarian way.

definitely goes wayy far out for more isolation cause he doesn’t want to get caught up with whatever shit masamune has.

the only major thing he did besides mining and everything was that he got a cat. and almost no one knows about it, other than you because:

“ieyasu has made the advancement [Best Friends Forever]!”

“mc: :OOOOO!!!!”

yeah, you never told anyone.

the longest time that he logged in at first was probably when he found out that cats sleep in beds and just. sat there as the night goes by in his bunker just watching and hearing it purr. he’s a bit irritated when the others tell him to sleep, but then see that the cat went and slept on him that secretly made his heart soft.

and then you insisted on going to his base which took a considerable amount of time, and even with his denying, you decide to decorate and expand his base! you also got to name the cat, but you never knew since you just said like “i’d name it [...]!” and later ieyasu found a name tag and actually did name it that.

—mitsunari:

he doesn’t run a lot i don’t feel. primarily because he was wonky with the controls from the start.

i feel like he’d have the brain to be a redstone engineer. he spends more time like, making those cool machines than anything (probably those that’d help out everyone like an automated farm, etc.)

thing is he forgot that he could die, so most of the time he’s just starve to death without even noticing it.

much like in real life, he always forgets to sleep. and that’s why phantoms are his number 2 in his cause of deaths.

doesn’t have an actual base. hideyoshi built a small one for him, but mitsunari kind of never uses it and just logs off on the spot. at this point it just became a part of the main buildings for everyone or something.

he doesn’t do an awful a lot of collecting and often asks others for some. and when he is given it, he goes “thank you ^^ <3″ and does like the happy-shift thing. it’s honestly too cute for it to be just pixels.

probably knows a lot about minecraft stuff too, it’s just that he never uses any of it.

—ranmaru:

he was so excited the first time you told him that he was invited to the smp of sengoku warlords! would probably frequent the most.

i think he’d just vibe really. not exactly going extremely into pve or pvp or redstone or building, he plays it at a very slow place and more like an animal crossing player would.

like, he builds a small farm and stuff. it isn’t as efficient as mitsunari’s, but it is what it is. also has an animal pen with loads of one animal category and he tends to let people use it with the exclusion of some (coughs masamune) as long as they breed them again or something.

and while he doesn’t go for the big projects, he is kind of a builder? he has the Aesthetic sense while building his house and stuff yk. would maybe lean into the cute, cottagecore stuff.

favorite food in game is probably cake! it takes more effort than most other foods and it just looks cute so he likes making them.

totally has shaders on.

is scared shitless of cave noises at times. you could play 11 near him and he’d just straight up panic and log off.

‎

uesugi-takeda forces:

—shingen:

i find him to be maybe one of those builders that stick to large projects and stuff idk why

he does other things too, mainly pvp (he likes to just head over to nobunaga’s base and kill him sometimes. not that the man doesn’t accept the challenge). would probably also be more into 1.9 pvp because he’s a very calculative person in fighting. yes even in block game.

but the first thing he built once he’s set from collecting materials, was a “restaurant”. for what, you ask? why of course he takes you on a minecraft date. that was the top of his list the moment you even told him about the smp

once the others found out (which was not that long) he just started bragging. kenshin burnt down the building later on.

but he always escorts mc or some shit while spewing out his Lines in chat, sometimes doing the bow in game thing. in response, there are several barfs in chat, and a list of people coming to kill him.

mf likes to combat log on kenshin when he’s on a Killing Spree for the shits and giggles.

—kenshin:

first time you told him about it, he was very happy to learn something about mc’s modern times, even if it’s a children’s game. unfortunately, he didn’t know what an ‘smp’ meant.

so when he logged on and saw that there were Other people, his smile turned into a deadly frown as he just began punching them to death. he only stopped when they ran off and you intervened.

he tried having you stick around longer when you were giving him a tutorial of how to play the game.

at first he only collected material to get stronger. and by that only sword because he sees no need in getting armor (he doesn’t die in battle irl, he can’t die in a simple game). but WRONG cause he got killed by shingen who, even though he had a stone axe, had iron armor while kenshin got nothing but an iron sword.

he doesn’t make a base (why do so many here don’t make bases istg). in fact, he doesn’t log on much.

at first, he only goes on if mc is on. it’s only when he sees that mc appreciates some of the work the others have put into things (like shingen’s builds, mitsunari’s redstone, etc.) is when kenshin tries to Do Things Too and kinda fail.

this man kinda has no aesthetic sense in the block game. but you give him a for effort.

1.8 pvper. he can definitely do 1.9, but more the former mostly cause his deadly anger makes him jitter click like crazy. often challenges others (consented or not) which mostly includes masamune and nobunaga, and he often surprise attacks shingen and sasuke.

—yukimura:

honestly a normal player in survival.

he makes a decent house, has some pretty strong gear, and just helps around his allies a lot (mostly {try to} drag kenshin away from trouble, scold shingen for being too close to mc {though it’s a him problem ngl} and just being a messy caretaker).

i feel like he’d enjoy tekkit tbh. sasuke would probably introduce it to him and he’d just generally enjoy it.

but this is about the smp

he got lucky the first drowned he killed dropped a trident and it’s been his favorite weapon.

probably tried at one point to build kenshin a small base but he wouldn’t listen so like. shrugs.

he’s a bit iffy with playing alongside the enemies in the same server, but they are kind of divided into two. and mc did say it was just for fun and games and they didn’t want to see actual wars be dragged into this, so he just lets it go and has fun.

he looks forward to beating the enderdragon a lot, when the end is available.

—sasuke:

oh Boy he’s having a field day. his adored sengoku warlords? playing minecraft, his childhood game??? absolute pog.

even though it was you who proposed the idea, the one who set up the server in the first place was sasuke, since he has more knowledge on that stuff.

since he got his bearings quicker than the rest from experience, and he was earlier to log on due to testing and stuff, he mostly helps you with building like the main hub, like the center place for everyone and generally things that involve helping the overall smp.

can mlg water bucket, through a lot of trial and error. he uses it mostly to make dramatic entrances where he drops from a hill and just not take damage.

^ speaking of Dramatic Entrances, he probably has a chest full of ender pearls for those specifically.

although he helps a lot with guiding everyone, at times, he pulls out the ol’ “sleep in the nether :)” suggestion just to troll

ngl he’d stick to his ninja thing and successfully make a redstone-wired door and has his banger secret base in it

—yoshimoto:

the s in smp doesn’t exist to him.

he’s just a collector, really. one of his first priority isn’t even materials like stone, the moment he finds any kind of flowers he’ll pick it up. it’s only when yukimura and sasuke actually Give him shit does he start living a not broke life.

probably dies a lot to mobs and stuff

but like legit, this man spent a long time collecting all 13 discs and almost every flower (yes, even the biome only ones) because he wants to take it all in. nevermind the fact that he can just listen to the discs online and all.

he’s immaculate in his aesthetics. even with just wood he makes his base look really cool ngl. 

some parts of it are plastered with every painting there is in minecraft, or just item frames, or flowers in their pots. every decoration you can think of, lamps, campfires, even armor stands, he has them.

you gotta give him credit, it’s a lot of effort.

he often afks just to listen to the music even though, again, he could just listen to it online.

got into a bit of a spiel with ranmaru, since he unknowingly dyed a lot of his sheep (he did categorize it with color though). and so they made an agreement to just have every color sheep, and put them in different pens. so they just shared it now

he saw the cave updates and went silently bonkers because how pretty some look (like the lush caves? hello??)

he has like. 14+ texture packs and 4 different shaders ready at his settings.

[ibijau]

How about one where Huaisang accidentally ascended (as in HOB) and Nmj and Lxc have no idea that their Sang-di's a baby god? He can't interfere with anything in the mortal realm, which is why he's always running from martial practice and saying 'i dont know' instead of giving straight answers. He's much more commonly known among the common people than cultivators (god of something simple but sweet?), and Meng Yao is the first to suspect (Can be extended to eventual XiSang where LXC...worships).

Well it only took me like four months to fill this prompt, and then when I finally did I basically ditched everything your suggested except for the “nhs accidentally ascended” part but... hey, if you’re still around after this much time, enjoy??

When Nie Mingjue is twenty and finally given full reign of his sect, there's a huge storm that nearly blows off all the roofs of the Unclean Realm. It is everything he doesn't need, but honestly everything these last three years has been everything he didn't need, starting with his father's death. In the morning, when the storm calms down, he assesses the damage, organises for those wounded by debris to be taken care of, sends disciples in Qinghe and the closest villages to see if they need help.

It isn't a surprise when he learns that the storm only struck the Unclean Realm. There was a taste in the air that did not feel natural.

Hearing this only worsens Nie Mingjue's other concerns. Namely, the disappearance of his prodigy of a little brother. Nobody has seen Nie Huaisang since the storm. His room appears to have been devastated by the winds, everything thrown upside down. His wing of the main residence is the one that has suffered the most damages, the roof apparently blown open.

Initially, Nie Mingjue did not particularly worry. Since the storm was unnatural, it wouldn't be strange for Nie Huaisang to have noticed it and gone after the source of it. It's reckless, and he'll get scolded for it, but it can't be helped. Nie Huaisang cannot see a wrong without wanting to right it. Yet as the hours pass, and then the days, Nie Mingjue gets more and more anxious. Just like the storm that hit them so hard, nobody around has Nie Huaisang. He has simply vanished. Search parties are sent everywhere, inquiries are made to allied clans.

Nothing.

Not a trace.

After a month, Nie Mingjue is starting to consider checking with Qishan Wen when one afternoon, Nie Huaisang simply passes the gate of the Unclean Realm.

Nie Mingjue hugs him and scolds him and demands an explanation, but none comes.

“I got lost,” Nie Huaisang laughs. “I didn't realise so much time had passed. It felt shorter, or I'd have come home sooner, I swear!”

“But where were you?”

“Somewhere I shouldn't have been,” Nie Huaisang evasively replies. “I'm home now. That's what matters.”

It's all Nie Mingjue can get from him. Considering his brother's taste for secrets, he should have expected it.

“Don't do that again,” he orders, before letting the matter drop.

-

Nie Huaisang doesn't train anymore after the storm. At first, he says his long wandering exhausted him. Then he pretends he wants to focus on his calligraphy, on painting, on just anything but martial arts.

Nie Mingjue lets it slide at first. He's long given up on making sense of his brother, and Nie Huaisang has always been a little too wise for his age. Whatever he does, he does for a reason. But as weeks pass and his brother doesn't return to the training grounds, Nie Mingjue has no choice but to corner him about it.

“I don't like it anymore,” Nie Huaisang says. “It's boring.”

“I'm told you also don't meditate. Is that boring as well?”

Nie Huaisang nods firmly.

“What's the point? I now we do this to reach immortality, and maybe even to ascend but... I've given it a lot of thought lately. I don't think it'd be much fun, being a god.”

“What are you even talking about? You... Huaisang, you're good but you're fourteen, it's not like there's any risk of you ascending!”

Nie Huaisang laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Right? I am just fourteen, it'd be so stupid! Still, better not take the risk.”

“Huaisang! Enough now!”

Nie Huaisang pouts, and whines, and gets dragged to the training grounds anyway, where he performs with a mediocrity that he's never shown before. He can't even hold his damn sabre properly, drops it several time. Nie Mingjue is too stunned to even think of punishing him.

Stunned and worried.

This simply isn't like his brother.

-

With help from the elders and some healers, a number of tests are conducted on Nie Huaisang. He is not possessed. He mind is not altered. He hasn't been cursed. His cultivation hasn't been damaged. If anything, it might have risen higher than last time they checked for it.

“Then what's wrong with him?” Nie Mingjue asks.

The elders look at one another, unsure what to say.

“Teenage rebellion?” one of them suggests.

“Gods. That'd be worse than a curse,” Nie Mingjue sighs. “How do we fix that?”

-

Every few weeks, Nie Mingjue gets letters from the Cloud Recesses. Lan Qiren is at his wit's end with Nie Huaisang, because there's no way a boy this clever can fail so consistently. He thinks it's done on purpose. Nie Mingjue, after being shown some of his brother's tests, can only agree.

This, too, makes no sense. Nie Huaisang is competitive to a fault and cannot stand it if anyone is better than him at something. In the company of people as famously brilliant as Lan Wangji, Jiang Wanyin, Jin Zixuan, and Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang should be thriving and fighting for top position.

Instead, he has taken to drinking and looking at porn.

He still passes his exams, with the best grade of his class.

When asked about it, he just says he didn't feel like going back because the food is really too awful and he missed home.

-

After that year in Gusu, Nie Mingjue gives up on getting his brother back to normal. This is just who Nie Huaisang is now apparently. Gone is the martial prodigy, all Nie Mingjue has now is a bumbling fool who cares for nothing but fans and birds.

Especially birds.

Frequently, Nie Huaisang disappears for days on hand to go birdwatching. That alone is frustrating, since he rarely bothers to say where he's going or for how long. But then, he also systematically leaves his sabre behind, and refuses to take an escort with him, arguing everyone is too loud and will scare away his feathery targets.

Nie Mingjue gives orders that his brother isn't to be allowed outside of the Unclean Realm on his own. Nie Huaisang still manages to get out whenever he damn pleases and laughs it off when his brother gets concerned that there are secret passages in the Unclean Realm.

“An enemy could use that to get inside and slaughter us without warning!” Nie Mingjue points out.

“No, that's not going to happen,” Nie Huaisang replies with a knowing smile. “Nobody can get in. The Unclean Realm will never fall.”

“You don't know that!”

Nie Huaisang laughs.

Nie Mingjue never gets him to reveal how he leaves the Unclean Realm.

-

When the Wens come to the Unclean Realm and demand that Nie Mingjue put his little brother in their hands, he refuses. If they want a war, he's ready to give it to them, even if the rest of the cultivation world would rather grovel at their feet than stand for themselves.

His brother has other ideas. Nie Mingjue finds a note announcing that Nie Huaisang has decided to offer himself as hostage, because he fears they are not ready yet for a war.

Nie Mingjue could kill him for that betrayal.

He knows the Wen might beat him to it.

-

As soon as Nie Huaisang makes it home with a bunch of desperate but unharmed kids from a number of other sects, Nie Mingjue announces that he's sending him to Gusu.

“No, my place is in the Unclean Realm!” Nie Huaisang protests. “I belong here. I know it now, I know this for sure, I have to be here.”

“Are you going to fight at my side then?” Nie Mingjue counters. “Are you going to pick up your sabre at last and help me?”

“I can help without a sabre. Mingjue, don't send me away. I want to be here. This is my home, I need to be here.”

“It's the sabre or Gusu.”

Nie Huaisang whines and pouts and begs and complains and even threatens, to no avail. Nie Mingjue will not bulge from the choice he's giving him.

Without surprise, Nie Huaisang chooses Gusu.

Nie Mingjue wishes it didn't disappoint him.

-

The war is bloody and harsh and it should be hopeless, but it is not.

Several times, they snatch a victory at the last moment through sheer luck. Hope, that most precious of commodities at such a time, never leaves them. Rumours start to circulate among the disciples of those sect who chose to stand against Qishan Wen, although it is many weeks before they reach Nie Mingjue, who never paid much attention to gossip.

In the end, it is Lan Xichen who tells him about it, seemingly rather amused by the stories about...

“A young man wearing a mask who sometimes appears when the situation is desperate,” he explains. “He carries no weapon, but he has a magical fan that he uses when fighting. He is rarely seen in battle, but several people who had been taken prisoner claim that he came down from the heavens to free them before they could be tortured or killed.”

“A rogue cultivator?”

Lan Xichen smiles, but shakes his head.

“A god, apparently.”

Nie Mingjue snorts. Gods don't mess with the affairs of mortals.

“Don't dismiss it so easily,” Lan Xichen scolds him. “I can name more than one sect that decided to join us after hearing about the Faceless God on our side.”

“They even gave him a title?”

“They had to, he never gave his name.”

It's a ridiculous rumour, and it can't be anything more. On a rare letter sent to his brother in Gusu, Nie Mingjue mentions it, guessing that this is the sort of things that might amuse him. He used to like stories of gods and immortals, before he became someone Nie Mingjue doesn't know anymore.

-

It's just a rumour, but even within his own ranks, Nie Mingjue catches a few people praying to the Faceless God on the eve of battle.

He doesn't dissuade them. With the war dragging on and the Wens still so strong in number, people need something to hold on.

Nie Mingjue puts all his faith in his own strength and that of the people he trusts, but he understands that not everybody can be satisfied with this.

-

And then he meets the Faceless God.

-

A young man wearing a mask, Lan Xichen had described him, but all Nie Mingjue sees is a boy in disguise, trying to appear taller and larger than he is.

He carries no weapon, and Nie Mingjue understands why when he sees the fan in the Faceless God's hand. It is one he has seen too many times in the last few years. He wonders if the boy who holds it assumed nobody would recognise it as easily as they might know his sabre.

He rarely joins in battle, but he comes for those who have been captured, like Nie Mingjue dragged before Wen Ruohan, humiliated by Meng Yao who he once trusted above all others.

Both Meng Yao and the Faceless God strike Wen Ruohan at the same time.

Both Meng Yao and the Faceless God cower in fear before Nie Mingjue when he rises to his feet.

Meng Yao kneels before him and swears he was always on their side.

The Faceless God runs away.

It doesn't matter.

Nie Mingjue knows where to find him.

-

It is a while before Nie Mingjue recuperates enough from his injuries to return home. When he finally does, Nie Huaisang is waiting at the gate for him, an uncertain smile on his face and a fan in his hand. Nie Mingjue hugs him and asks for news of the reconstruction in Gusu, unsurprised when the answers remain evasive.

He waits until they are alone in his room to ask the question that really matters.

“It was that storm, wasn't it?”

Nie Huaisang freezes in the act of pouring tea, looking like a rabbit who spotted a hawk. Slowly, hesitantly, he nods.

“If you ascended, why are you here?”

“This is home,” Nie Huaisang simply says. Then, when his brother frowns, he adds: “I never expected to ascend, and when it happened, I realised I didn't want to. They gave me all those rules to follow, they told me I couldn't see you again, couldn't go home again and that was... I belong here. I belong in the Unclean Realm. Maybe when you're gone I'll feel differently, but for now this is home and I'm not going anywhere. The Heavenly Emperor himself could order me to leave and I wouldn't. Which is exactly what I told him before I came back here.”

“You rebelled against the Heavenly Emperor.”

Nie Huaisang nods.

“You're an idiot.”

“I was fourteen!” Nie Huaisang protests. “I should never have ascended! I wasn't prepared for it! I'm still not prepared for it. I don't care about their rules, I don't care about emperors and gods and anything else. But I care about my home, and I care about my people, and I care about what's right.”

Nie Mingjue sighs. This is so wrong, on so many levels. There are reasons why gods don't meddle with mortal affairs, why they stay in their own domain most of the time. This is wrong and it'll bring trouble down the line, he's sure of it, but... but suddenly, so much makes sense, and he's proud of Nie Huaisang.

“I'm not calling you 'Highness',” he warns.

“I sure hope not. I'm still your didi, now and always.”

Nie Mingjue smiles, and pulls his heavenly brother into a tight hug. Everything else is going to be different, but this bond between us will never change, he's certain of that.

[clumsyclifford]

prompt: alex says goodnight to the horses and when he gets back inside jack has tea waiting for him made perfectly

you know i really didnt think i would write this tonight but then i did

ao3 link!

-

It’s getting chilly out, but damn it, that is not going to stop Alex. His horses are his best friends. They deserve goodnight wishes as much as anyone else. Sometimes he likes them more than his actual best friends, if only because they won’t ever tell him to stop talking about the possibility of life on another planet or eat the last Oreo but put the empty package back in the tour bus cabinet because they thought it’d be a funny prank. (Rian.) 

Horses aren’t super chatty, sure, but at least they’re not assholes.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, smiling as he walks up to the stables, where he can see Theo and Beaux. Their eyes are still open but they’ll be asleep soon. They’re like old people in that way; always asleep before nine o’clock, these guys. “Hi, beautiful. Hi, you guys. Hey.” 

They say nothing, predictably, so Alex walks first up to Beaux. “Goodnight, honey,” he says, tenderly kissing the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t smell great. Maybe tomorrow they should wash the horses. Or maybe on Monday. Alex isn’t sure he’ll feel like doing it tomorrow, though he knows it has to be done regardless. “Sleep well. Dream of carrots. Dream of…of winning a horse race. Not that I’d ever make you race. I’m not a monster.”

Beaux doesn’t answer, just snuffles loudly. Alex laughs. “I wouldn’t! I swear. Anyway, you wouldn’t last a minute in a real horse race, you lazy fucker.” He pats Beaux’s nose affectionately, strokes it once more. “Alright. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

A few steps leads him to Theo’s stable, where Theo has been watching him patiently until Alex reaches him. “Hey,” Alex says softly. “You look tired, man. Long day? Hey, why the long face?” He chuckles to himself. “That’s not even a funny joke. I think I’m getting old, Theo. I’m way too much of a dad for someone without kids.” Although he’s not really childless, is he? He’s got all these animals to take care of, and surely that’s the same thing. Or at least similar. Someone’s got to have done a psychological study on the effects of having pets instead of kids. They can’t be that different. After all, Alex is here tucking them in. That’s pretty fatherly.

Theo nudges at Alex shoulder. “Okay, shit,” Alex says, smiling. “I’m getting to it.” He pauses for effect. “Goodnight, Theo.” Rubbing a hand affectionately over Theo’s nose, he adds, “Dream of beating Beaux in a horse race.”

Theo also snuffles. Maybe, Alex muses, it’s the horse way of saying goodnight. Though they kind of do it all the time, so maybe not. Alex should look into that. After he looks into the whole pets-as-kids thing. His to-Google list is growing by the minute. 

His hands are also getting cold, so he quickly kisses Theo’s nose and pats his cheek. “Sleep well. Sweet dreams. Love you both. See you in the morning.” And he backs away, rubbing his palms together.

The farm might look eerie at night to a stranger, but to Alex it’s familiar enough not to scare him anymore. Now it feels almost like a summer camp, and Alex feels like a rogue camper out of bed past quiet hours. The world is his oyster. Maybe one night they ought to take some blankets out and stargaze. Glancing up, Alex can see a smattering of stars overhead, and for a moment he’s distracted and slows to a stop just to stare.

The stars are so beautiful out here. The sky is so pretty. Alex dedicates a lot of brainpower towards thinking about the galaxy — probably more than is healthy — but when he’d been living in L.A. it had always been something of a distant train of thought, because there’s so much light pollution in L.A. that the stars are more fantasy than reality.

Here, though, in rural Maryland, a fair distance away from civilization, the stars overhead had been what had sealed the deal for Alex, when they’d been thinking about whether or not they ought to buy a farm. And now, head tilted far back to gaze up into the sky, Alex thinks they made the right choice.

Fuck, it’s pretty out here. The universe is capable of creating such lovely things.

When it’s been long enough, Alex shakes himself out of his reverie. The cold is seeping into his skin everywhere it’s exposed to air, and his hands are starting to feel more like ice blocks attached to the ends of his arms. He tucks them under his armpits and continues his trek to the house.

“Back,” he calls out as he enters through the front door. It’s nice and warm inside, but Alex’s hands are still really fucking cold, so he puts them back under his arms as he nudges the door shut with his hip.

“How did it go? Have they said goodnight back yet?”

“Not yet,” Alex says, following the voice to the kitchen, “but any day now. I can feel it.” He pauses. “Whatcha doin’?”

Jack looks up at him, but he doesn’t stop stirring the mug. “Making tea,” he says. “What’s it look like?”

Alex blinks. “Making tea?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “For you.”

“For me?”

“Well, I don’t like tea,” Jack says, which is patently untrue, but whatever. “Yeah. It’s kinda cold out, and you always make yourself tea after you get back from saying goodnight to the horses, so I thought I’d kinda, you know, cut out the middleman or — whatever, the point is I made your tea for you so you wouldn’t have to.”

Alex steps towards Jack, who pushes the mug across the island towards him. There’s steam rising off the top, and the color looks right, but honestly Alex hadn’t realized Jack ever paid attention when Alex made tea. “What…is in this?”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Cocaine and dog food. What the fuck do you think, it’s tea. Milk and sugar. How you like it.”

Alex feels a fond smile cross his face. “This is so cute,” he says, reaching for the tea and wrapping his hands around the mug. It’s too hot and he has to pull his hands away after a couple seconds, but he can’t stop smiling. “You made my tea.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He looks pleased. “Well, I hope I didn’t fuck it up. You should probably try it before you tell me it’s cute.”

“I didn’t say it was good, I said it was cute,” Alex says. “Which it is.” He abandons the tea for a moment in favor of approaching Jack, who’s cozy in an orange hoodie and black sweats, hair mussed up from the day. Still, in his dressed-down state, Alex has never seen anything more beautiful than Jack.

He brings his hands up to press against Jack’s cheeks. Jack jerks. “Fuck, your hands are freezing!”

“It’s cold outside,” Alex says, smiling still. He doesn’t move his hands away and Jack doesn’t make any effort to. “I love you.”

“It’s just tea,” Jack says quietly.

Alex kisses him. Jack’s lips are warm on Alex’s cold ones, but it’s nice — almost like Jack can reset Alex’s internal temperature, like the very act of their being together is enough to achieve perfect equilibrium. Kissing Jack might not be a cure-all, but it absolutely is a cure-most, and Alex cashes in whenever he can possibly find a reason to, and frequently even when he can’t.

And Jack’s made Alex’s tea. Jack has made himself a part of one of Alex’s favorite nighttime rituals. Alex is so in love he doesn’t have the words.

“Thank you for the tea,” he whispers, stealing one more kiss before stepping away and picking up the mug. Jack has a silly smile on his face that he’s trying his best to hide. Alex waits a moment, blows away the steam over the mug, then lifts it to his lips and takes a careful sip.

It tastes just right, and somehow Alex is both surprised and not. Sure, Jack keeps him company every evening while he puts together his nightly tea, but Alex never expected Jack to be paying attention. It’s just tea, like Jack had said. Not the kind of detail boyfriends are necessarily supposed to remember about each other.

On the other hand, though, Alex is the luckiest man alive to have Jack, and Jack is constantly surprising him. And Jack is much better at proving his love than saying it, so of course he remembers how Alex takes his tea. Of course he would make it.

“I poisoned it, by the way,” Jack says, just as Alex swallows. 

Alex laughs. “Well, it’s not affecting the taste at all. It tastes amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Jack. Literally perfect. You got it exactly right. This might be the best cup of tea I’ve ever had.”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

It is the best cup of tea Alex has ever had, actually. Not because it tastes good — sure, it tastes good, but after a certain point a good cup of tea is just a good cup of tea — but because Jack had made it. Obviously that’s too cheesy to say, so Alex just thinks it really hard, figuring Jack will probably get it anyway from his face.

Jack slides in his socks over to Alex’s side and wraps his arms around Alex’s waist. His chin digs into Alex’s shoulder. “Lemme taste.”

Alex sighs, grins. He lifts the mug up, trying to glance down to see where Jack’s mouth kind of is, and when he’s pretty sure it’s in the right place he carefully tilts it. Against all odds, nothing spills. Jack takes a sip, and Alex brings the mug close to his chest again.

“It’s actually pretty good,” says Jack. “Maybe I should have made myself a cup too.”

“You can share mine.”

Jack hums. He squeezes Alex’s middle, pressing himself flush against Alex’s back, even closer than he’d been. “That’s okay. I’m good right here.”

“Don’t wanna sit down or something?”

“Can’t hug you if we’re sitting.”

“That is true,” Alex concedes. “But I can look at you, which I would love to do.”

Jack scoffs. “I’m nothing to look at, babe. I’m literally in sweats.”

Nobody in the world has ever made sweats look as good as Jack does, is the thing. “I know,” Alex says. “But I just like looking at you. Don’t call me cheesy. I already know you’re going to, so stop it.”

“That’s just cheesy as fuck,” Jack says anyway, kissing Alex’s cheek. “You’re gonna get cheese in your tea.”

“That’s so gross, can you imagine tea with cheese?”

“I bet that’s a thing. In Asia or something. They make some weird shit over there.”

Alex chuckles. “Maybe.” He sets the mug down on the island and turns around in Jack’s arms, and Jack doesn’t protests, though he also doesn’t move his arms away, and they remain encircling Alex’s waist, linked behind his back. Alex brushes his palms over Jack’s shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his hoodie, and curls his fingers around Jack’s neck, which is warm like the rest of him. “You’re a good-looking guy, you know that?”

“I do know that,” Jack says, smiling so so softly. He doesn’t smile like that for just anyone, Alex knows; it’s a special Jack smile, only for Alex. “You’re a pretty handsome boy yourself.”

Alex kisses him again, just for the hell of it. Because he can. Because he’s got Jack in his arms, prettier than any other fucking thing; because Jack’s his boyfriend and that means Alex gets to kiss him whenever; because he loves Jack, is in love with Jack, and sometimes kissing him is the only way to adequately communicate that. 

They show love in different ways. Alex says it aloud, traces it into Jack’s skin, brands him with touches and kisses to remind him.

Jack makes Alex tea.

“Love you,” he murmurs again, though he’s already said it. Jack could call him on it, but instead he does that rare Jack smile again.

“Love you more,” he breathes, before capturing Alex’s mouth with his own.

The universe truly is capable of creating such lovely things. And if a sky full of stars is a home run, then Jack Barakat is a grand fucking slam.