#i was actually going to do every single day but unfortunately my exams has been squeezed into the last week of august for no reason

[elmax-week2023]

Elmax Week begins in eleven days (see what i did there, i am so funny haha) ! So excited to see what you guys have planned, for this ! Reblog this post with how many prompts and what prompts you are planning to do and your progress on them :D

[munsonsreputation]

Acts of Affection

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [5.8K]

warnings: a tiny bit of sad steve but reader reassures him! full of domestic tooth rotting fluff <3

summary: sometimes it's the little things that matter the most and make your heart melt. you and steve are no different...these are six times that the small acts of affection made your love for each other grow.

_

“Stevie!” 

He watched you exit through the double doors of your college campus, instantly catching his gaze all the way from the parking lot where he stood leaning up against his car waiting for you. Flowers in hand and a little teddy bear for good measure. You squealed his name, racing down the few steps and into his arms that always felt like home. 

Today had been a stressful one, to say the least. It was finals season, and you had been working tirelessly for the past two weeks trying to cram as much studying as you could into your schedule. Unfortunately, that meant fewer dates and time to spend carelessly with your boyfriend, Steve. Nevertheless, he was an absolute trooper through all of it. Bringing you coffees and little snacks to get you through those boring studying hours and somehow convincing you to take naps in order to recharge. He was the absolute bestest. 

“How are you, pretty girl?” He asked through your hair, the smile he loved so much, pressed up against his neck until you pulled away and he got to see it for himself. 

“Better now…you know you didn’t have to do all this.” You pouted, plucking the plush out of his hand and aweing at it before Steve had shook his head, planting a small peck on your lips, thumbs resting on your cheekbones warmly, “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I know you’ve been so tired, but now you can finally relax for a little.” 

You fell into the warmth of his hand and the softness of his voice. He was always your comfort place during times of stress and anxiety like this one—somehow he had all your worries go away and you knew that being in his presence would be enough. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” He kissed your temple, keeping his lips there as he the question fumbled upon your skin. 

“But I’m already home.” You whispered, sweetly, dotting kissing on the underside of his jaw and a few on his neck as you could feel the adams apple bop while he laughed happily. 

Steve found it in himself to draw you away, not before placing a single kiss on your lips once more, his thumb pressing on your cheeks as he smiled at you, “I’ve got your favorite waiting on the kitchen table.” 

“Chicken parm?” Your voice heightens, and he nods, withholding his laughter.

“Yup, my mom made it fresh this morning before work. She knows how much you love it.” 

You squeal, happily moving side to side in his arms, “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” 

Steve finds your excitement for simple acts like this one to be rather adorable, but he knows that you deserve it. After working so hard and almost overworking yourself from some good grades, you deserved a good home cooked meal you loved. 

He opened up the passenger door for you, letting you in, “Wanna tell me about the exams on the way?”

“Oh, just wait until you hear about Professor Danielson’s stupid test rules!” You huffed heavily as you buckled your seatbelt and looked up at Steve, who smiled, pecking at your lips again.

 “Can’t wait to hear it, baby.” 

_

Class getting cancelled was a rare occurrence, so you were surprised when you waked up to your ethnic studies class to see a large piece of paper, poorly stuck to the door that read, “class has been cancelled for today, see you next week!” 

But who were you to complain? You now had a free schedule for the rest of the day, left to do whatever you wanted, but you had already finished up the last bits of homework you were aiming to get done and Steve was at work. So you opted to go home…Steve’s home, actually. His parents loved you, even trusting you with a spare key that you use a lot, coming in and leaving almost every day. 

While you should’ve settled on taking a relaxing nap that you deserved, you remember that Steve had been talking about how messy his closet had been getting over the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t easy, constantly needing to share a closet with not only you, but the rest of the younger boys who often raided it, looking for the new trendy pieces they could sport at school. So you took it upon yourself to organize it. 

Steve had a ton of polos—you weren’t complaining since he looked good in every single one, but Jesus did he have a lot. One in every color and every shade, and different brands and prints. He also owned quite a collection of different jackets, some he had bought at the mall after receiving a hefty paycheck, a few gifted to him from holidays and birthdays, some that he had picked up from garage sales and thrift stores that you and Steve would visit on weekend, but his favorite one was the light grey Members Only jacket you had gifted him for your one-year anniversary. 

Pants were definitely the most modest part of his wardrobe in terms of quantity. He opted to only buy a few ones that were of great quality, but were highly expensive. He only had a few pairs of Levi’s and the rest being old sweatpants and shorts he would only wear at home or when it was hot out. 

Then there were the shoes. God, if Steve loved something more than he loved you, it was shoes. He collected them like a hoarder. It was a rule that the younger kids could pick anything in his closet expect the shoes! He cared for those pieces like his baby. You practically had to force him to wear every single pair at least once before buying another or else they’d just sit in a pile in his closet forever until they fell apart naturally. 

“Finally!” You exhaled, dusting your hands off as you took a step back and examined your work. 

After about two hours, you were able to completely transform his closet. Organizing everything you had hung up by type and color so that Steve would have an easier time sorting through what he had. You even had the time to create a pile of clothes that you hadn’t seen Steve wear in a while, placing it in the corner of his room to go through himself before offering it up to the boys or donating it. 

“Baby! You in here? Your cars’ in the driveway!” The front door opened and Steve's voiced filled the expanse of his home as you shouted out a reply, 

“Hi Stevie!”

Your feet took you quickly down the stairs and into his arms, inhaling his cologne while you nuzzled your face into his neck, hugging him close. 

“Class got cancelled today.” You mumbled against his skin, pulling away when he rested his hands on your sides, squeezing slightly. 

He frowned, rubbing circles with his thumbs, “Why didn’t you call? I would’ve called out early for you.”

“S’ok, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” Your cheeks rose as you smiled, finally landing your lips against his in a kiss. 

His own, moving against yours gently, before pulling away, “I have a surprise for you upstairs.” 

“Is it a naughty surprise?” His eyes brows wiggled and his tone shifted higher as you groaned, pushing his chest annoyingly, “Ew! Just come on!” 

Your fingers took his wrist, pulling him up the stairs behind you as he laughed, speaking out a jumble of words like, “I’m just messing with ya baby,” “I hate surprises,” and “just tell me, please!” 

“Ta-da!” Your arms flared out towards his open closet when you two finally entered his room. 

He was astonished, “Babe, you did all this yourself?” walking up to it, his fingers skimmed each item as he passed by, looking at how organized everything was and how he could finally see the floor of his closet after all these weeks. 

You nodded your head happily, “Yeah! It was actually really therapeutic to go through everything and see it all come together.” 

He turned back to you when your bubbling voice filled the air. “I even made a pile of clothes you don’t wear anymore over there.” 

Looking at to where you were pointing, he saw a bunch of old tee-shirts and hoodies that didn’t find him anymore, and then glanced back at you, “Baby, you really didn’t have to—“ 

“Uh uh.” You shook your head, finger waving from side to side making him chuckle, getting closer enough to you to wrap his arms around your waist. 

“i wanted to! You’ve been complaining for weeks about it being a mess and I know you didn’t have the time to organize it all by yourself, so I took it upon myself to—mph!” 

He pulled you into a kiss, mid-sentence making you shriek, “Shhh, stop rambling, baby.” He said against you, making you groan, fingers going up to his shoulder to pinch him slightly, “Not cool.” 

“I love you.” He said, totally ignoring your fake annoyance,

“I love you too.”

_

The clanking of plastic hitting the diner table caught your attention, stopping you mid chew as you stared at Steve, who did nothing but smile, resting his chin on his fist as he watched you, “I made you a mixtape!”

“Are you serious?” the half mushed food in your mouth, muffling your words as he laughed, reaching over to close your mouth with his forefingers. 

“Finish chewing—“ you rolled your eyes lightly, setting down your fork, mouth mashing up the last bits of food while you picked up the cassette. 

from stevie to my baby…all these songs remind me of you, I love you. 

keep on loving you - reo speedwagon 

crazy for you - madonna

heaven - bryan adams

take my breath away - berlin

nothing’s gonna stop us now - starships

p.s. did I mention I love you? 

You did realize your eyes welling with a pool of happy tears as you read the tracks—all of them being significant theme songs for you and Steve’s love story. When any of them would come on the radio, the two of you would instantly think of each other, reminiscing about drunk karaoke nights, late night drives around town, and sleepy nights you would spend falling asleep in each others arms. 

“I could only fit five songs on this cassette but Eddie told me he could lend me a few empty ones so I could—“ He paused, seeing as you laughed lightly, eyes blinking and tears rolling down your cheeks and jaw, “baby are you crying?” 

His thumb reached out to swipe under your eyes, then cupped your cheeks, eyes filled with concern of his side as you reassured him with a sincere smile, “Happy tears, Stevie…this is so sweet.” 

“They’re just songs honey, you shouldn’t cry.” 

Heading shaking in his grasp, turning slightly to kiss his wrist then look back into his eyes, trapping him in a trance of love that he would never be able, and never wanted to escape, “You’re the most thoughtful person I’ve ever had to privilege of knowing, let alone loving…the littlest things you do make me fall even more in love with you.” 

Sure, you and Steve would share sweet nothings with each other all the time…almost on a daily basis, but this confession made his heart beat ten times faster and heat up to the hottest temperature. He’s never felt so…appreciated? 

“I…wow, I’m sorry, I just—never knew I could make someone feel like that.” 

Watching him stutter over his words was a touching scene, knowing Steve was totally honest and speechless, “I meant every word, I love you and I’m going to cherish this for the rest of our lives.” you told him, pressing the tape to your heart and leaning forward to peck his lips. 

“I love you too, never gonna stop loving you—wait! I should’ve put that on there!” He groaned, hanging his head low as you giggled, shaking your head as you assured him. 

“When you make me another, you can put it on there!” You patted his cheek with your warm palm, “Let’s finish up and we can listen to this with the windows down.” 

He smiled warmly, pecking your lips, talking against them half-jokingly, “You’ll get cold after two minutes and ask me to roll them back up.” 

You nodded, pressing your lips to his again, “And you’ll roll them up and turn up the heat.” 

“Like I do all the time.” He agreed, finally pulling away to take in the expanse of your face and all your beautiful features he memorized. 

_

You tiptoed out of the backdoor with your bare feet on the deck. Steve’s sweater clinging onto your body against the cold air, but thankfully the two mugs of hot chocolate you had made were warming your palms up. 

“‘morning hot stuff.” You whispered cooly, leaning down to kiss his cheek before he had the chance to look up at you. 

You smiled when you pulled away, handing him over his mug that he graciously took, then pecking your lips, “You’re up early…are you not freezing?” 

He patted his thigh, signaling for you to sit on his lap, and so you did, snuggling yourself in embrace, feet bending to rest on the lounger that you two were now relaxing on. Your naked knees taking on the warmth of the mug that you set on them. 

“You warm me up just fine.” You said softly, taking a sip of the sweet drink, overlooking the beautiful water and misty air. 

It was your first time at Steve’s uncle’s lake house, and surprisingly enough, they had to trust the two of you to stay alone for the weekend. It was the perfect little getaway for the both of you, considering the fact that Steve needed to use his vacation days and you desperately needed to get your nose out of the textbooks for a while. 

The comfortable stubble that scratched against your cheek was a case of Steve forgetting to pack his razor and being too lazy to head to the store down the road to get one. But you weren’t complaining. You always loved every touch Steve laid on you, accidental or purposeful. The butterflies and swelling of your heart never was a feeling you would get used to. It happened all the time. 

When he reaches to hold your hand. Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. Guiding you around a crowded room with his hand pressed gently into the small of your back. Throwing his leg over your body to prevent you from getting out of bed too early. And laying sweet kisses all over your body. 

It always had the same effect on you. 

“One day you’re going to catch hypothermia, babe.” He argued back with a chuckle, his free hand rubbing up and down your legs attempting to get the blood circulating. 

You just giggled softly, taking a sip from your mug, indulging in his touch before finally saying something, “We’re never apart, so that’s highly unlikely.” 

“You’re right…you know how much I love to keep you warm.” He kissed up the expanse of your neck up to your ear, making you fall into his touch deeper, his hand leaving your wrap over your shoulders, keeping you close. 

“I wish every morning could be like this.” You murmured, turning your head to stare up into his eyes that agreed silently before coming down to peck your lips. 

His were slightly chapped from the cold weather neither of you were accustomed to, but the chapstick on your lips seemed to do the trick, “One day I’ll get us a place of our own on a lake and we can spend every morning out there…” the sweet words fell onto your lips as he whispered them before pulling away. 

“We can watch the sunrise and the sunset, host summer parties with our friends out here…then when we have kids, we can spend time with them out here—our little family at our little lake house.” 

You smiled warmly, bringing one of your hands up to rest upon his cheek. The scarlet blush you were certain was from the icy weather, but was, in fact, due to his love for you. It was the mere fact that he was so infatuated with you in the simplest times like these…with no one around to judge or critique the love you had for one another. 

“You want to have kids with me?” You asked as if you didn’t already know the answer, having thought of that dream too.

He huffed jokingly with the rolling of his eyes as he nodded, hand making its way to rest on your stomach, “You’re the only one I can ever imagine having a family with…you’d be a great mom.” 

“Says the guy who has been a single dad of six since he was seventeen.” You retorted as you both shared a laugh before taking a sip of the hot chocolate to warm your bodies once more. 

You leaned down to set your cup on the deck, allowing both hands to be free so you could rest them on Steve’s that still laid over your belly, “I can’t wait to have your babies…I think we’d make pretty good looking humans if you asked me.” 

Steve grinned, nodding his head, “I think so too…what do you think about heading inside and us warming up in a different way?”

The wiggling of his eyebrows made you burst out in amusement, but not stopping the twists that were happening in your stomach. He just sat there, shaking his head with a smile on his face, trying to act as if it wasn’t the corniest thing he had said all week, “Ok, c’mon, it wasn’t supposed to be funny, babe!” 

“It was pretty funny!” You quipped, poking at his sides, making him flinch, almost spilling his drink. 

He “oh’d” with a laugh, leaning over to set him down on the deck beside yours, then finally lifting you up into his arms. 

“Stevieeeee!” you squealed, weakly attempting to wiggle out of his gasp as he walked you two up the deck. 

“I feel your temperature dropping, babe! We gotta get you warmed up, quick!” He joked dramatically, feet running heavily on the wood, as you could do nothing but laugh and hold on to him tightly with every step he took. 

_

You quietly unlocked the front door to the Harrington residence, toeing your sneakers off and leaving them at the front door as you made your way through his house. Today’s lecture required you to stay back a few hours longer, needing some extra tutoring in order to fully grasp the concept that way you wouldn’t fail the upcoming test that you so badly needed to pass in order to get an A for the school year. That sadly meant leaving Steve alone for a few hours, but you assumed he could manage, considering the fact that this wasn’t the first time you had to stay on campus a little longer. Usually he’d come home and take a nice nap after work while he waited for you or other times he would hang out with your friend group until he received a call that you would be heading home. 

But today was different. 

You stumbled into the kitchen and found a note stuck onto the fridge with one of the smiley faces magnets that littered the silver appliance. 

“hi baby, I left some soup for you to heat up on the stove. not having a great day, a lot on my mind, don’t want to worry you though. I’m upstairs napping. Make sure you eat first before you come to bed. I love you, sweetheart.” - your stevie

A frown covered your face as you turned to the stove and saw a small pot of soup and a bowl and spoon already laid out for you. But Steve should’ve known better that you wouldn’t be able to eat without checking up on him first. He would always be your number one priority. You left the food there, and walked up the stairs, heading straight to his bedroom where you softly knocked on the door, just to let your presence be known as you twisted the knob and let yourself in. 

There he laid under the comforters on his stomach, snoring quietly while the gently breeze of wind came in through his windows. You sat your bag down on the floor and made your way over to him, sitting on the small space that was left and rubbing a soothing hand over his clothed back. 

“Hi handsome…I missed you.” You said loud enough for him to wake, kissing the space beneath his ear. 

He mumbled out a few incoherent words, before finally shifting around to face you. His sleepy red eyes, evident that he may have been crying a few hours before or even rubbing them a little too hard. It worried you.

“Did you eat?” He asked, and you shook your head, reaching out to fix the messy hairs that danced on his sweaty forehead. 

Steve groaned, scolding you for not without using his words, “I couldn’t after what I read in your note. Is everything OK? You want to talk about it?” 

You knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand and that included knowing that he had a soft side that not many people knew about. Sure, he expressed his protective and loving side for his close friends, but rarely did he ever expose his true inner feelings. He only did that with you. And you were honored to be his person that he could be his true self with, without worrying about being judged for feeling such deep and emotional things. 

“Life is just…. a lot.” He sighed, looking down sadly in his lap, feeling defeated and lost in what was the weird transition to adulthood and still holding on to being a young adult. 

You scooted closer, mirroring his body language, but wrapping your arm around his shoulder and the other on his wrist, getting him to feel some sort of comfort during this time. 

“I understand, babe… life can be a lot, but I hope you know that you’re not alone—I’m always going to be here.” You reassured him with your calming voice and slow circles that you rubbed on his wrist. 

You could feel his breath hitch and his back crouch lower falling almost away from your touch if you didn’t chase it, “Hey, hey…I’m here baby, talk to me…what’s going on? How can I help?” 

“I get scared that it’s all going to disappear.” 

The sentence was clear, yet his voice was shaky as some of the words slipped off his tongue with a breathy tone. 

“D-disappear?” 

“You.” he clarified, staring back up at you with tear-filled eyes, threatening to spill over any second now. 

You could feel your heart rip into a million tiny pieces just looking at the love of your life like this. It was something you had never witnessed before, at least not like this. How could you ever disappear from his life when you two practically needed each other to survive? He would be crazy to think that, but right now, you needed to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Steve.” You whispered, retracting your hands from their initial placement and bringing them up to cup his cheeks. Swiftly your thumbs moved to swipe the tears that finally fell when he blinks, those brown orbs coated with a cloud that you hated to see. 

“I…I’m never going to disappear, alright? I love you, so so so so much and I can’t even imagine living a life without you….what makes you think I’d ever want to leave the person I love so dearly?” 

“I dunno…” he sniffled, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them up again and staring into his favorite pair of eyes, face covered with concern, “sometimes I think that I’m not enough for you…that you’ll get tired of me, maybe find someone better than a stupid guy who works at a vhs store.” 

He shook his head shamefully in your hold, as you could do little but bite your lip and laugh lightly, causing his brows to furrow, “It’s not supposed to be funny—“ 

“Baby.” You whispered tugging his face closer to yours, just inches apart now, “I couldn't care less about the job that you have…hell you could work as a damn plumber and I would still feel the same about you because I love you.” 

He swallowed, not chancing this moment as he watched your lips move swiftly with more words leaving them. 

“I love the fact that you take the time to memorize all my weird little quirks. I love it when you leave little notes around the house and in my bag to read throughout the day because you know I miss you too much. I love when you wake me up in the morning and pepper me with kisses because it’s the only way to get me up. I love that you make me mixtapes and I never get tired of listening to them. I love that you have the biggest heart and the kindest soul. I love that you would do anything for the people that you love.” 

Steve could feel his sad little heart sparkling with happiness as he listened to your meaningful words. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington, because of what’s in your heart. I mean it every day when I say that I love you and nothing is ever going to stop me from doing so…especially not your job. Please know that I’m not going anywhere, not ever, ok?” 

He didn’t waste time with words, only pressing his lips to yours, letting them rest on each other in a soft touch before finally moving gently against one another. Everything and all his fears were lifted away with you here telling him that everything would be ok…that it was all in his head. 

“Thank you for always reassuring me.” 

You smiled against his lips and nodding, foreheads slightly bumping each others making you both laugh and pull away. 

His eyes were no longer clouded with sadness, but now glimmering with love. 

“Always, baby.”

_

So maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea for you and Steve to host a sleepover movie night at his place on a Sunday knowing he had work the next day and you class—but it was the only day everyone was free, so fuck it…right? 

You tucked your face deeper into Steve’s chest, inhaling his scent combined with the morning air that suffocated the living room as the warmth of the sun bled through the thin curtains and onto your exposed skin that wasn’t covered by blankets. It wasn’t odd for you and him to crash in the living room. Sometimes the two of you would be too tired to walk up his flight of stairs or you would both would fall asleep in each other’s arms during movie. But this is the first time you had been awoken by snores…some of which you weren’t familiar with, they didn’t sound like Steve’s snores…they belonged to your friends…the ones you let sleepover—

“Fuck! Steve wake up! We overslept!” 

You instantly shot up, arm blindly reaching out to shake Steve awake whose eyes snapped opened quickly, watching as you threw off the blankets in a pile on the floor. A few of your friends squirming from their places on the air mattress and opposite couch who woke up to your loud shrieks. 

“I thought you set the alarm,” He mumbled out, snapping out of his initial concern and rubbing his eyes with his fingers. 

You got up, racing towards the digital clock that sat on the coffee table, “Batteries were probably out…stupid thing!” you smacked it harshly as if that would do you both any good as he stifled his laugher and finally got up. 

“Go shower, I’ll handle get started on coffee.” He said patting your bum and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, watching as you nodded running up the stairs loudly, not caring if you woke your friends. 

You worked quickly, rushing around Steve’s bedroom as you brushed your teeth. Pulling out some clothes from your drawer of things there, gathering some school appropriate pieces that you know would match since you didn’t have much time. You had thrown them onto the bathroom counter, reaching into the shower to warm up the water before rising from your mouth and practically ripping off your clothes and hopping in for a quick rinse. 

Steve was working just as hurriedly downstairs. The kettle was on high and the two pieces of bread had been put into the toaster. He had gotten each of your mugs ready with a spoonful of coffee grounds and the sugar pot already waiting beside them for the end. The eggshells littered the bottom of the kitchen sink as he vigorously whisked and seasoned them before pouring them in the hot pan. He worked the spatula around the mixture, setting it down and rushing towards the fridge to grab the bread, peanut butter, and jam to get started on the lunches you two would be packing. 

“Babe your turn!” You were rushing down the stairs with his toothbrush in hand with a fresh line of toothpaste already on it. 

He turned, thanking you with a quick smile before shoving it in his mouth and rushing up the stairs.

It was easy for you to take over. The eggs were nearly finished and now plated. The kettle had been done boiling, so you poured the hot water into your cups, watching as the dark brown slowly take over, adding in two scoops of sugar into each cup. The toast popped up. You turned around grabbing them with quick fingers and drizzling a squiggle of honey on them for sweetness. 

The sandwiches had been already made and only needed to be cut and placed into ziplock bags. And so you did that, grabbing a clementine and bag of chips for each of you to have for lunch. 

“I have your backpack, sweetheart.” You turned your head and saw Steve heading down the stairs with your bag in his hands that he placed down at the floor of the front door. 

“Thanks handsome! Breakfast is ready!” 

You turned, setting your coffees down on the table, being greeted with a peck on the lips as you giggle, nudging him away jokingly, “eat or we’ll be late.” 

He rolled his eyes, checking his time on his watch, “We’ve got approximately six minutes and thirty-five seconds to leave the house before either or us are late…we’re fine.” 

Steve casually takes a bit of his toast and picks up bits of the scramble eggs with his fork before eating them. You do the same, but with a bit more of urgency remembering you had forgotten your scarf and a few pieces of jewelery you usually sported upstairs. 

“Be right back!” You mumbled with a full mouth of toast, as you scrambled out of your seat and back up the stairs. 

At this point, all of your friends had woken up due to the loud ruckus and unbeknownst to you and Steve, they were watching you two run around, absentmindedly helping one another with small tasks like a cooperative relationship. 

Steve had gulped down the last remnants of his coffee and begun placing the dishes in the sink to give them a quick wash. You came down the stairs, fingers securing the earring backs to the small jewels that Steve had gifted you for your birthday one year ago—his green vest loops over your arm as you crept up behind him and nudged him slightly. 

“Almost forgot this.” you smirked, holding it out for him to work his arms through. 

“You’re the best.” He mumbled sweetly, handing you your cup of coffee to finish as he brushed down the flyaway hairs at the top of your head with his palm. 

You swallowed the rest of the semi bitter caffeine, handing him over your cup then walking over to your lunches, quickly adding a smiley face and heart to his brown bag with the thick sharpie. 

“Ready to go?” He asked, wiping his hands clean as you turned around and nodded, handing him his lunch as you two walk out of the kitchen and went to the front door quickly slipping on some shoes and grabbing your respective car keys. 

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and pecked his lips, “Remember you need to fill up your tank, you’re almost on E.” you reminded him as he nodded patting his pocket to make sure he had his wallet, which he did. 

“Call me during lunch if you have time? And I’ll see you here at 3?” He proposed, and you nodded, giving him a hug. 

You two were almost out the door when he remembered that your friends were still over. 

“Hey dinguses! Lock the door on the way out and make sure you fold the blankets!” He reminded with a shout before shutting the door. 

They all turned to each other with sleepy smiles, heading over to the nearest widow to watch the couple part ways.

“They’re like a married old couple.” Dustin commented, as you two shared another kiss before getting in your cars. 

“I think it’s kinda cute.” Max said, nudging El, who giggled and nodded. 

The boys rolled their eyes, except for Eddie, who walked away and stretched his arms out, “They love each other, it’s no surprise.” 

“More like infatuated.” Will jokes, smiling as he listens to the car horn beep. Steve lets you drive off first, then him following behind. 

“It’s the little things that make their love sweeter.” Lucas says, moving towards the coffee table and finding a polaroid of you and Steve, from a few nights ago, sitting around and watching sitcoms. 

“Small acts of affection are what they call it.” Robin says snatching the photo from the young boy to admire herself. 

“Guess we ought to take a note or two.” Mike shrugged as everyone agrees. 

It couldn’t be clearer that you and Steve were head over heels…not because of the grand gestures, but mostly because of the small and meaningful ones. The times where Steve would show up after a mentally grueling day without being asked to. The acts of service you would complete to help him get a load off his plate. The thoughtful gifts he would make for you without any special occasion. The one-on-one moments you spend together without bother, letting each other’s touch fill the gap. The appreciative words of affirmation and assurance that would fix a heavy heart after a long day. And the togetherness you both would feel, even on a hectic morning like today. 

It would always be the simple acts that would make your love for each other grow. 

A/N: I've been in the steve mood so I decided to write this sweet little quick thing up for you all! I am a whore for domestic fluff so yeah...let me know what you think!

[readyfreddy]

Ok a question: is the bad grade because you're missing so many assignments that the 0s are stacking up, or is it because of a series of poor grades?

Because for the first one, ask for an incomplete and give them a TIMELINE on which you will complete the work over eg summer (like 1 assignment a week or sth, nothing super intense just to prove that you're actually going to do it) and maybe also offer to meet with them regularly/send them email updates regularly while you're working on their work (again to prove you won't ghost them and will actually finish the class).

The second one, you could try to ask them to bend the syllabus for you. Definitely tell them how much they mean to you as a prof and how much you like their class, but also just express the difficulty you've been having honestly (tbh just like the first two lines in quotes in your post) and maybe see if they will let you maybe do something to your grade advantage, like take a final essay grade or final exam grade in place of your average if it's higher.

I don't know what your relationship with them is or your other needs, but you could also ask to retake the class with lower demand (like attending lectures you feel you need to and not the ones you don't need over again) or ask for maybe an independent study class to help with their research or something to help raise your overall GPA if the course grade doesn't matter as much in the grand scheme.

Sorry for the rambling in your inbox 😅 I live surrounded by academics so it's kind of the stuff I hear about all the time and this seemed less wierd then DMing idk? Uh I hope this helps and isn't like intensely overstepping 😅

All good and I genuinely appreciate your imput <3 Inbox or DM work equally as well for me :)

I've handed everything in on time but have a series of 50's and below :( , and I don't really have a relationship with him beyond discussion my academic accommodations. I'm aiming for pharmacy school, but at that becomes less of a reality every single day (or at least what it feels like). I have other options that I'd be happy with, but as of right now, pharmacy school is a big goal of mine.

I ended up sending him an email, that he'll likely see Monday morning, my email (w/o identifying features) is below the cut:

I have enjoyed your class thoroughly and have learnt a lot. Despite what it looks like on paper, I am trying my best and working hard to succeed in this course. 

This term has been incredibly difficult for me as I have been balancing two jobs,  handful of extracurriculars, as well as dealing with an out of province parent who is becoming increasingly disabled as time progresses and doing extensive research regarding their condition. It is hard to ignore that there is a lot going on in my life and I am trying to keep a lot of different areas of my life in control, even if those matters are completely beyond my control. 

As a result, this has taken a major toll on my mental health. What I was once able to successfully manage has now become near debilitating. I have used some of the on-campus resources, and they have made a noticeable difference. One of my lab instructors has already expressed concern regarding my mental health and have taken some small actions to help me.

I’ve been able to go to all your classes; however, I have found it hard to focus and retain information, even if I am taking notes and engaging in classroom discussion. 

I know that it is very late in the term, and there is very little that can be done while still maintaining fairness to all students. If there is anything that can be done, please let me know at your earliest convenience. Unfortunately, I will not be able to attend your office hours this upcoming Monday,  I am aiming to be there around 9:30 on Wednesday. If these times do not work for you, please let me know and we can discuss a time that works best for both of us.

[brownhairedbookworm]

Monika paces behind the stage's curtains. She can't say she's not nervous, but she's not afraid to be out performing! If anything, she's giddy about it. This is the first time she's tried to put her foot out there to perform anything for a crowd, let alone her own work. Of course, she'll be opening with some less original music, just in case, but she's pretty confident.

The brunette straightens out her ponytail. She looks like she's put together well enough, probably. Dressed pretty casually, but she's not here for a big orchestral show or anything. Just a little bit of lounge music. Everyone's going to be a little tipsy and loose. They won't criticize her too harshly, if they do at all. No one's gonna throw drinks at her because she sucks so bad, right...?

Okay, maybe she is lacking in a little bit of confidence. She takes a deep breath and rolls the beads of her bracelet on her arms. "Come on, keep yourself on earth. You'll do fine, Monika... Everyone believes in you, no one's going to heckle you or do anything mean."

How desperately she wishes she could have invited any of the Literature Club girls out for this. Unfortunately, Natsuki's bakery is starting to have a holiday rush, Yuri is using the colder weather to forge her metal sculptures more comfortably, Sayori...

Sayori probably could have come, actually, but she hasn't been responding to texts today. Monika can handcuff her jealous, possessive side for long enough to let Sayori live her own life. Between school exams and seasonal depression, Sayori's probably putting in some longer hours at work. Nothing to worry about.

She hears her name over the intercom and makes her entrance to the sounds of some relaxed, scattered applause. Monika takes her seat at the piano's bench, playing a short scale to get her fingers ready.

"Okay, everyone! Thanks for having me. Before I start sharing anything new, let's start with something familiar. A song about drive, determination, and grasping success in your hands with your own power." She begins introducing the song, with its familiar and haunting piano notes...

Her own power... Yeah, she can handle this~

"If you had one shot. One opportunity. To seize everything you've ever wanted, in one moment. Would you capture it, or just let it slip?"

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

And as her little show continues through the notes and chords, she only grows more confident. From the Eminem cover, around a more lounge appropriate version of Ruler of Everything, and right through a performance of Genghis Khan that made her feel perhaps a bit selfish and obscene... It's finally time to start bringing herself out there. Get ready to laugh at her high school work, everyone, oh boy...

"...Every day, I imagine a future where I can be with youuu...~"

...It's funny. She wrote this about that one person who didn't stick with the club. Now... Now she feels this same love for the girls she hurt so badly.

"...write your way into their hearts..."

Her fingers dance expertly to their destinations, adding flourishes and extra energy to places that once held a lovestruck teenage girl's awkward single-notes... Maybe it's time for a new final verse.

All my love, flowing free from my fingers, all around you three... I know love. And it shines for you all, from deep down inside of me. The ink flows down into a dark puddle You've written love into my reality. Listening to the sound of your heartbeats Friendship and love, here in our reality. And in this reality, if I forget how to love you I'll leave you be.

Her smile won't leave her face, as she brings her song to a close. "Thanks for having me, again, everyone. This has been a lot of fun!" Monika stands and takes a bow to a slightly bigger amount of applause, and she heads back behind the curtains.

[mercurialmilk]

Grief is an emotion I wouldnt wish on my worst enemy.

I gotta get this out for the sake of my soul. It's a really long read.

back in June of 2020, my sister and I found a cat while out for a walk. She was really friendly but looked in really bad shape. She had horrible matted fur all down her back, she was so thin you could feel her entire spine, scratches and old injuries. But she was so curious and bright eyed!

We thought she might be a lost cat so we took her in, sent info to shelters and our block watch captain (oh, the suburbs) and took her to the vet.

They shaved her from the neck down because they couldnt do an exam the mats were so bad.

She was suffering from malnutrition, had several broken bones that healed wrong, beginnings of kidney problems, was partially deaf and had several superficial scratches and bad teeth.

A few days later we found her owners. They said their kids gave them 2 kittens years ago and they just live outdoors mostly. I was really shocked, at that time we lived in the suburbs next to a ravine filled with wildlife. Coyotes were seen almost every night.

They said that her brother died a little while ago from a coyote.

I was completely furious but tried to keep cool. I asked if they would be open to us keeping her? They asked why on earth we wanted a 19 year old cat (19 years old!!)

They warned me she had behavioural problems and peed all over their house and the woman (it was a couple) said that she "hated petting her because she was so boney"

Yikes.

We agreed that I could keep her as long as they didnt have to pay the vet bills.

(turns out the man of the couple was a bit more attached to the cats or maybe he felt guilty because a few weeks later he showed up with an envelope with half the cost of vet bills for me)

This cat was supposed to be my sisters. I've never been much of a cat person because growing up our mother would foster cats and the minute you got attached to one it was gone to a new home.

Unfortunately, due to some circumstances, my sister had to go to the hospital for a long time and I became the caretaker for this little girl.

First, I didnt want to let her into my bedroom. Then she wasnt allowed in my actual bed. Then she wasnt allowed to spend the night. All of these rules didnt last long at all.

We found the perfect equilibrium. She loved to sleep on my lap (she's incredibly small and perpetually cold) during the day (I work from home) and at night she would snuggle into the crook of my left arm (always the left) and snore peacefully into my ear.

I moved a few months after getting her. In the summer, she goes out to the patio and sleeps on the warm stones. She has a little harness and a really long leash so that she doesnt wander far. My desk is right by the door so I can sit and watch her. And untangle her when she gets wrapped around the patio furniture.

She never had a single "behavioural problem" like the couple said. She always went to the litterbox perfectly, even on long car trips when visiting my parents.

She doesnt like other cats (I think she is anxious about being bullied) but she likes dogs.

She is now completely deaf, which is great because I dont disturb her sleep with vacuuming or my work.

I completely fell in love. And honestly, she saved my life. She became my perfect companion. I put her on a raw meat diet, her fur grew back beautifully and she feels and looks a lot better!

Thing is, being 19 when I got her, I knew what that meant. I knew the end would come a lot sooner than I'd like so I truly treasure every single moment with her.

Yesterday I got the results of her blood and urine tests. Her kidneys are officially in stage 3 out of 4, meaning that the end is coming.

It could be a few weeks or months but there's no stopping this.

I've never lost a person before but my dog passed away after a prolonged illness in 2018 and it was easily the hardest thing that I've ever been through.

My only regret with my dog was that I was so desperate to keep her alive that I held on too tightly. It's never an easy decision because you dont know if it's the right time.

This time my only goal will be to give her the best possible end. Once she shows me that she's ready to go, I will listen. I already know I'm going to do it at home. I have researched the company that does it.

It probably wont happen for a while. She's still happy, eating ok, sleeping a lot but that's because she's a lil grandma. Right now, her diet is well in line with kidney heath.

I'm still waiting on test results to give me a better picture of how far into stage 3 she is. But the writing is on the wall and I'm full into grief.

Is it better or worse to know it's going to happen soon? Does it matter?

I passed all the stages of grief a long time ago (if you believe in that). I've been at 'acceptance' for a while now. But it really doesnt make it any easier.

I feel so weak and so powerless. I know this will pass and I will survive. I've survived before. I just needed to get this out.

Here's Kida. Although I never call her by her name. She's either Little Girl, Baby or Beloved.

When we first found her:

Vs today:

[withluvsophie]

Turning Page...

~ 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒖𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

Since we are almost done with two thirds of 2022, i would love to talk about some natural and actually drastic changes in my life that I did, in order to become a bit more mature every and each day. Just like RM has mentioned in his speech in 2018 UN meeting " Yesterday's me is still me" and no matter what I did yesterday, I learnt and grew to the point I evolve and slowly and healthily become a better human being.

The reason why I started this mission:

The past couple of years have been a handful on me. Let's say that instead of focusing on me and myself, I stop caring about me and cared only for the people around me. That meant that I started substain my emotion and close them to myself ,locking them to a point I had anxiety or panic attacks or even extreme outbursts. The lowest point was my failure in school. It might sound wierd but hear me out. In my country, the final exams that we have, determine if or if not you will enter to a university. And unfortunately I failed miserable. And it took a toll especially in my mentality cause I start thinking that people will hate for that or that are disappointed on me and start leaving me, which is my worst fear. That summer was supposed to be the best and yet I tend to forget it purposely cause it was most of a sad moment in my life. That period was also a really bad time for my relationships. I was the WORST friend to my friends cause I couldn't feel happy and done times I felt left out when in reality I was just insecure. I start growing away from them because I thought that they wouldn't help me. At all.But during that time, I started to look back and reflect. I start asking questions on myself like " what went wrong? " or " who was at fault?". And after a long discussion with myself I realized that I have let myself down and go and I practically was killing me. That was the wake up call I had and practically saved me. I decided that i need to grow up and be more mature in order to become more and more strong in the life that i want. I need to manifest to the life I want to have and at the same time to grow in orde to LIVE that life. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙟𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙...

Academic Growth

So like I said I am not in university. But since I still chase my dream in become a vital part in the Medical Department - either as a pediatrician or a biologist or a midwife - I studied to retake the exams. To this day, I'm thankful for this decision. While many people wouldn't go down that trail of pain again, I see this journey as a reflection of the life i will have in the future so i show the same maturity towards it. Of course I'm NOT the most productive person you will see. Like it's not like i will study 10 hours every single day. Like i said I'm a human being that is still growing. So practically studying has its ups and downs. But I do see studying more as something fun than something boring and dreadful. I haven't given the exams yet so hopefully when I give them I will come back with positive news. But in overall, I'm glad that I did this to myself and ti the people I got to meet and will take with me in my life. Now I can gladly say that I'm a university student in the University of West Macedonia in the Obstetrics and Gynecology department (aka I'm studying to be a midwife) and I'm proud of that.

Physical and Mental health

While I was going through this journey, my mentality had changed drastically. From a girl who was always in the fear of being judged and mocked due to my past experiences to a woman who wishes to become a slightly better human the more a grow. I was bullied for my weight in Primary School and later on created trust issues because of past friendships. So as you can understand, for a tween /teenager girl , this left me with a lot of damages. Having suicidal thoughts, depression, feeling worthless and yet I would always smile because I felt that my problems weren't important and that nobody wants to know them. It might also be the reason on why I eat so much. A while back i was also a professional dancer. So every emotion I felt I released it through it. But because if studies I needed to stop dancing which was the breaking point of me, since the only getaway of me relaxing was now taken away of me. So food was like my comfort thing to replace dancing. And I did gain a lot of weight. To a point I hated the way I looked. Right now though I'm in a better place. I'm realizing my worth and the possibilities that I can have through my hobbies and abilities. I'm still learning of course. And I have my friends that are supportive of me. I would want actually to reach to a professional to help me but due to economic conditions it is a bit hard to do that so I'm postponing it to the moment I'm economically comfortable to do it. For the food obsession , I have to say I'm growing from it. I've realized where I come from and ik trying to lose weight not for that society or to become beautiful. I'm doing it for myself, my mental health. Maybe the factor of my moving away from my home is also helping since I have the freedom to move more actively than when I was back home. I get to walk more and I'm considering on getting ready to workout a bit going back to dancing. But that's a talk that I have to make with my wallet.

Overall

This Journey of Sophie , a High School Student has Ended

Now let's move to the next chapter of my life with a new mindset and believes. With a new perspective for both me and life. It's time to grow more to reach the goal I have put on... to become a slightly better adult and human being...

The Journey of Sophie, a University Student has started...wanna join me?

[dracowars]

hello!! can you do something with reader and draco as aurors and he’s been pining for her but she’s never really thought about it/is in a relationship/just broke up w someone etc. and he protects her on a mission or something and she realizes how much he cares for her and kind of a slow burn situation? post hogwarts and kinda fluffy & angsty (from draco atleast)

work buddy | draco malfoy

pairing: auror!draco x auror!reader

word count: 1,9k

summary: where draco and y/n work together as aurors

a/n: i hope you enjoy! feedback is always appreciated <3

warnings: angst

universe: harry potter

„Why were we chosen for such a task?!”, Draco snarls, walking a few steps behind you, sulking. With every step he takes, the branches break beneath his weight and the leaves rustle. “What even is the point of having a gamekeeper or Keeper of the Grounds of Hogwarts?! This school hasn’t changed a single bit-”

“Can you do anything other than complaining all the time? Seriously”, you interrupt him annoyed and turn in his direction, stopping him in his steps. “Just think of the good old days and stop waking up the critters that live in this forest!”

The Forbidden Forest has always been a place you have happily avoided. Back then when you were still going to school, and now as well. Unfortunately, you have been sent to Hogwarts as Aurors to track down and eliminate a werewolf who has holed up somewhere around here. What this elimination looks like? You have to see when you get to it.

Draco and you already knew each other from your school days, but you never had much to do with each other. It is only in the last few years that you have noticed him more often and you have met every now and then, often at moments when you would have preferred to avoid him. At the time, your friends persuaded you that he was deliberately looking for you because he felt something for you. Which of course was not true, it is ridiculous, but because of the constant comments from your close friends, you eventually got into it and developed feelings for him yourself. Which should have never happened.

Those feelings actually did not last that long anyway, because shortly after that Draco became a Death Eater and was responsible for many terrible things that happened at Hogwarts and in the entire Wizarding World. That is why you never thought that after you graduated, after all evil was wiped out and banished, you would see him again in the Ministry of Magic’s entrance exam to become an Auror.

The one who followed the pure evil suddenly wanted to hunt it down, how ironic.

That is why you are here now, the two of you, alone, in the forest, because you obviously know the terrain better than any other Auror currently active. Why they did not send Hagrid, you did not dare to ask.

“You know, I think you are right. I should enjoy the time I get to spend with you alone”, Draco agrees, hands proudly on his hips as you turn away, head shaking, and continue through the thick moss, with Draco close behind.  “Besides, I really have a wonderful view here.”

“Oh wow. You are still just as bad as you used to be”, you chuckle humorlessly, but decide to not say anything else and you keep walking straight ahead, even though you can feel his burning gaze on you. Your former self would probably have sunk into the ground with embarrassment, but not only Draco has changed, but you did too. Somewhere deep inside, those old feelings you once had for him are still hidden, locked up, but so much has happened in the meantime that it will never grow into something more. And that is good.

“Why exactly are we looking for that creature in the middle of the night again?”, Draco asks seriously, interrupting himself every so often when he nearly trips over a root on the ground.

“Well, if you were paying attention back in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you would know how to deal with a werewolf. And that they love the full moon”, you explain, a little know-it-all. “Oh wait, no. Every child knows about the full moon, my bad.”

“And you are still as snippy as you used to be”, Draco chuckles softly behind you. “One of the reasons I love being around you. I love that side of you, partner.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t love your annoying side, partner”, you counter and the next moment you hear how he slaps his own hand firmly against his chest, right where his heart is.

“Ouch, that hurt”, he whimpers playfully, which brings a small smile to your lips that he cannot see. Draco can be really annoying and overbearing at times, but you can tell he has changed. He is not the cheeky arrogant boy from the first year anymore. He is no longer the quiet, withdrawn boy of seventh year when he was burdened with a difficult task. He has changed, for the better, and if you could choose, you would still choose him as your partner over anyone else.

“How is your boyfriend anyway? What was his name again.. Louis? Liam?”

“You mean Luke?”

“Yeah, that guy! Tell me, how are things going between you two?”, Draco demands, while you gasp as you dodge a branch with your head, holding your illuminated wand rigidly in front of you.

“We are not together anymore”, you reply as unemotionally as possible. It has been a while since you broke up, deciding that it just does not work anymore. It was a brief crush, nothing more. However, sometimes you find it difficult to accept that you will probably never find the right one for you.

“Oh- That- I am sorry, I didn’t know-”

“Don’t worry, everything is fine. We just didn’t fit, that’s all.”

“I see..”, Draco clears his throat uncomfortably, apparently not expecting such an answer. In silence, you walk on, directly through the dense forest, the bright full moon above your heads partially covered by clouds. After some time, you reach a dark cave that looks like a shelter and approach it carefully. A temporary tent has been erected in front of the cave and the campfire next to it has burnt out, not even embers are left in it.

“What a nice little space- Hey! Don’t get too close!”, Draco calls you back loudly, clawing at your arm just as you were about to examine the tent more closely. “First rule of Aurors: never act rashly.”

“That is not the first rule-”

“Do you still want to risk it?!”, he asks you, almost upset, and lets go of your arm, which he had firmly in his grip before he could realize it.

“Obviously the werewolf isn’t here, Draco. I know what I am doing”, you smile provocatively and continue to look around the small camp while Draco waits in the middle by the extinguished fireplace, looking around.

Quietly, you trudge around a few fallen trees blocking the path when you suddenly discover footprints on the ground. Traces of huge claws that have dug into the damp underground.

“Draco! Look, there are tracks here!”, you call out to him, pointing at the tracks on the ground with your glowing wand. You only notice the orange eyes that suddenly light up in the bushes next to you when you hear a loud growl and a black shadow jumps on you.

Just before the giant beast can grab you, Draco throws himself at you at the last second, pulling you out of the way. Hitting the ground together in pain, some rocks and sharp branches pierce through your skin, Draco’s body beneath yours. Scrambling to your feet, shock is etched in your bones as you help Draco to his feet. Immediately, he pulls you behind him as you face the snarling werewolf.

With its orange eyes it watches you, your every move, before one of them was probably the wrong one and it jumps towards you aggressively.

“Alarte Ascendare!”, Draco yells loudly and the werewolf flies up into the air, in the opposite direction, buying you time. “RUN!”

Without hesitation and without the realization really hitting, you sprint off hand in hand, always looking behind to see if the creature is following you. Which it, of course, does. Since it is much faster on its four paws than you are on your two wobbly legs, you try to think of a solution as quickly as possible.

“Bombar-”

“No, we mustn’t hurt it! It is still a human”, you interrupt Draco, knocking down his hand in which he holds his wand. Your job is to eliminate the werewolf, but that does not mean you have to kill it.

“Arresto Momentum!”, you yell loudly and shoot the spell directly at the wolf, who gets hit and slows down accordingly. Without using any words to communicate, Draco knows exactly what to do next.

“Incarcerous!”, he shouts and in the next moment, thick ropes, which are conjured from thin air, wrap themselves around the werewolf’s body, around its legs, thus making it unable to move. Additionally, it is weakened by the slowdown spell, which is why it does not try to defend itself against the tight bonds.

You exhale with relief and put your hands on your knees, exhausted from the chase but glad that everything turned out alright after all.

“Y/N! You are bleeding!”, you hear Draco say worriedly, causing you to shift your gaze from the creature on the ground to him. In irritation you watch as he comes up to you and strokes your cheeks, where a branch must have hit you, tearing your skin, with the sleeve of his coat. You watch intensely as he scans your face for more injuries, the tips of your noses almost touching, making your heart skip a beat.

As your eyes meet, it feels like the world stands still for a brief moment. The wind blows through the branches, rustling through the leaves, and through your hair. Silence spreads in the forest, the stars and moon shining bright above your heads. The next moment, however, the world continues to spin as usual as Draco backs away from you, leaving only a warm spot on your skin which you subconsciously touch with your fingers.

“Thank you”, you say softly while he looks at you with wide eyes, as if he cannot comprehend how close you were just mere seconds ago.

“Are you.. hurt anywhere else?”, he asks, still concerned, his eyes fixed on your clothes, destroyed by the branches while his own probably does not look any better. Running your hands over yourself to make sure you have not seriously injured yourself, you shake your head. Draco looks quite relived at this, which elicits a giggle from you at the most inopportune moment ever.

“What?”

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you care so much about me”, you smile to yourself. It was supposed to be a joke, but it did not sound like it. You do not know what made you say this after you were just chased by a werewolf who could have killed you with one bite or transform you. It just came to your mind, and you said it.

“I- Well, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“I think it’s a nice feeling. Knowing that there is someone who cares about you.”

“I always care about you”, Draco mumbles so softly that you can barely hear it, which is why you ask him to repeat his words.

“Doesn’t matter. Not that important”, Draco brushes you off quickly, looking straight at you while clenching his fists as he makes up his mind. “Honestly, no, it is important. You are permanently on my mind, Y/N. I can’t think of anything else, back then I couldn’t think of anyone else. You are such a stunning person, and I would do anything to make you happy.”

Completely taken by surprise by his sudden confession, you look at him with wide eyes. Unfortunately, this reaction gives him the wrong impression and just as he is about to turn away in embarrassment, you grab his arm and make him look at you.

“I wish you would have told me that much sooner.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I think I feel the same way about you, Draco.”

[cinnaminyoons]

( CLICHÉ. )

ミ☆ he likes fading into the background. unfortunately, you do not.

⤷ PAIRING knj x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 3.2k

⤷ TAGS nerd/jock trope, high school au, blushy joon

⤷ REQUESTED

HELLOOO JUNNN

i wanted to request a prompt where the reader pretends to be dumb so namjoon can tutor him since he has a big crush on namjoon and so he ends up eventually asking him out after a lot of teasing and stuff ??

cupid has visited, and his aim is worse than the juniors’ archery club.

of all people to develop a massive crush on, it’s on the one guy who’s got a loyal fanclub who actually gather at lunch to share printed pictures of him. of course namjoon’s silent affections have to be directed towards someone whose friends would never think to give people like him the time of day. of course he has to look so terribly good glistening with sweat on the sports field.

and of course they share nearly every class together.

that last point is, surprisingly, not particularly eventful. namjoon is what some would call a little bit of a nerd. he’s quiet, he’s shy, and he can run the hardest equations through his head like a ticket machine, popping out the answer in a matter of seconds. the hardest thing on an exam, for him, is remembering to write his name on the front.

he slumps into his seat at the cafeteria table inelegantly. he heaves the heaviest sigh he’s given all day.

sympathetically, taehyung pushes a can of soda towards namjoon with his index finger, flicking it at the end to give it an extra boost. it slides over the white table, spinning a half-circle before slowing to a stop. “you look like crap.”

namjoon exhales a huff of laughter. he sweeps his glasses off his face and rubs his blurry eyes. “yeah, and i feel like it, too. rough week, right?”

“hyung, it’s tuesday.”

he hooks the thick, black-framed glasses back over his ears and gratefully pulls the red and white can closer to him, popping the metal tab. it hisses as it cracks open.

yoongi, a little further down the table, asks, “oi, where’s your tie?”

namjoon glances down. argh – that’s what he’d forgotten that morning!

today was not treating him well. after accidentally sleeping in, missing his bus, and getting reprimanded and humiliated in front of the entire class by his least favourite teacher for being tardy, one would think that life would ease off his back for at least a little while.

the universe laughs at him – one more ace lays up its sleeve. if namjoon thinks it’s unfair, that’s because it is. the universe is not known for being a kind and rule-abiding player.

“hey.”

the smooth, rich voice comes from behind him. the cafeteria becomes abruptly quiet, muffled, as if his head has been dunked underwater.

namjoon turns hesitantly, faltering in the middle, but he charges on through with it. he looks up. his face blazes with heat.

standing in front of him is the boy of his dreams. an irresistible adonis. the gorgeous red roses creeping along the trellis of his mind.

“you’re kim namjoon, yeah?”

he barely has the capacity to nod – only once, and stiffly. you smile, as easy-going as ever, and namjoon becomes so blinded by its brightness he nearly misses the fact that you step forward and take a seat next to him.

“we share a chemistry class,” you remind him unnecessarily, leaning an elbow on the table. facing him completely, you straddle the single, immovable metal bench. the relaxed, open way you sit, completely at ease with yourself and your surroundings despite the rather loud whispering of your name, forms a strong, tugging longing in namjoon’s chest.

he isn’t sure if he wants you, or to be you.

“you’re top of our class and ms kang is really fond of you, so i was hoping if you’d be willing to give me some pointers before our next exam.”

you grin, lopsided and charming and a little embarrassed, and namjoon’s feelings are reassured. he wants you.

eventually, he gains the strength to open his mouth. “y-you want my help?” he points at his chest unsurely. the red of his sweater vest surely matches the colour of his face.

you laugh and ruffle your hair, a little mussed up from playing with it so often. “would i come to you if i didn’t?”

he stammers out an apology. his hands are so tightly clasped even a single touch would shatter his bones.

“relax,” you say cheerfully, “you look like i’m about to bite your head off. i promise – i won’t ask for much. just an hour or two of your time if you’re happy to lend it, and then i’ll be out of your hair forever.”

a part of him tugs on his logical mind. why, after only brief eye contact and nods in the hallways and in classes, would you suddenly come up to him? the only rational thing he can conclude, despite how coldly negative it is, is that someone’s got a bet going, and he’s the poor soul who serves as a measuring stick.

namjoon is deeply aware of the eyes on him – not only from his friends, whose mouths hang open in shock, but also those who would quite possibly murder someone to make you theirs. if they could kill with just their eyes, namjoon would be six feet under.

but... having your attention on him feels damn good.

“yeah,” he whispers around his heart in his throat. he clears his throat and jerks up straight, an attempt to startle his body and see if it still belongs to him. “i mean, i-i’m free tomorrow? i-if you want, that is. we don’t have to do tomorrow at all. no pressure.”

his mouth just won’t shut up. how does everyone else speak to attractive people without making a complete fool of themselves?

his words are stuttered, sharp, and simultaneously too loud and too quiet. he’s not very good at maintaining eye contact, either, and he talks a lot without saying very much. still, you don’t seem to mind.

you lean forward far enough to have a private conversation with him but not enough to make him uncomfortable. as you do, he catches a hint of sweet, freshly-cut grass.

“tomorrow sounds great! i’ve got some time between the end of the day and practice – are you okay with coming to my place straight after school? i’ll drop you off home, too.”

“o-oh, i don’t want to be a burden, i can call my parents—”

“you’re not a burden.” you say this with such certainty that namjoon has to swallow his racing heart back into his chest.

“ah...” he fiddles with his fingers under the table. “if you’re okay with it, that’d be nice. thank you.”

you shake your head and smile – big, gleaming, heart-stopping. “no problem, man. i’m really glad for this – i should be the one thanking you.” you chuckle. “so, thanks.”

with that, you get up, fixing the collar of your jacket, and give him a strong pat on the shoulder when you leave. his shoulder throbs faintly.

the strange blanket of silence lifts, and the casual chatter starts up again. he wonders if it really ever stopped. it sure felt like it, though he can’t be certain it truly was. his pulse had pounded in his ears and drowned out everything but the honeyed flow of your voice.

“—joon? namjoon!”

“hm?” he looks up.

yoongi raises an eyebrow. taehyung smirks around his mouthful of noodles.

“jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “i don’t think your crush can get any worse than this.”

“it’s not a crush,” he says defensively, though he knows they know it is. he sighs. “okay, and what if it is?”

taehyung shares a look with yoongi. simultaneously, they turn towards namjoon.

feeling awfully naked – he’d forgotten his tie, after all – he rises to his feet. he fumbles the can into his hand, nearly pouring it all over himself in the process.

“be careful,” yoongi says suddenly. “you know his reputation.”

namjoon knows full well. his heart won’t let him forget it.

—

it’s spring – the flowers are in full bloom, and the fields are sprayed with clusters of little yellow daisies. namjoon wears a brown messenger bag across his body, and he hugs his chemistry textbooks to his chest as he carefully descends the front steps of the school entrance.

he balances three textbooks in his arms. it says things about him very loudly. only one textbook is mandated by the subject.

“namjoon, over here!”

he glances up and nearly trips on the last step. there you are, standing in front of a simple but sleek truck. namjoon should be used to the sight of rich pretty boys flaunting their rides, but you seem to… do it differently, and that’s not his unresolved feelings talking.

it must be because you’re not flaunting, he thinks. it’s just a car to you. something to get you to wherever it is you want to go.

he hurries over, doing his best to ignore the blatant glaring and muttering of those he passes. he attempts a smile. “h-hey.”

“hey.” you grin. you glance at his books. “jeez, you lug those around every day? you should join my team.”

he shakes his head immediately. “oh, no, i – i couldn’t.”

“why not?”

“i, uh, don’t pair well with sports.”

you shrug and open the door to the backseat. “shame. you’re easy on the eyes – which is more than i can say for the rest of ‘em,” you add in a secretive whisper, winking.

his face burns as you take his books and set them gently in the backseat. you take his bag, too. later, when he wasn’t so busy crashing and burning in his own head, he would think it was cute that you drew the seatbelt over his things to keep them from falling.

“right! off we go.” you move around him, pulling open the passenger’s side and giving a short bow. he slips inside, tucking his long legs into the car, and you close the door.

you join him in the driver’s seat. once you’re both clicked in, you pull out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“here.” you pat around the cup holders for the aux cord. you pass it to him just as you come to a stop at a red light. you glance at him and smile. “i’m out in the country, so it’ll take a while to get there. i’m trusting you with the music.”

his heart hammers in his chest as he chooses a playlist. there’s always something terrifying about letting others listen to his music. there’s always a self-conscious, niggling fear at the back of his head.

he watches you out of the corner of his eye. your fingers tap against the steering wheel along to the beat. he relaxes.

you’re a very good driver, namjoon thinks as you travel quietly along the roads through the city. if he had been holding a cup of coffee as you turned corners, it wouldn’t spill.

the scenery flashes by, brightly-coloured signs blurring like a flipbook animation. slowly, the shops become scarce, and green expanses of land take over. he tries not to seem too childlike when he stares out the window, eyes following crooked wooden telephone poles and barbed wire fences as they whip past.

warm, familiar chords resonate in the car. after a few seconds, he startles and hurries to grab his phone and skip the song. you hand blocks it without looking.

the moment where your hands meet has shocks erupting along his veins. he raises his eyes, more than a little panicked, and you say, “haven’t heard this before.”

then, namjoon’s own voice comes through the car speakers.

he stares at you, watching with wide eyes as a tiny smile creeps onto your face. your head bobs along to the music.

you glance at him, grinning in pleasant surprise. “is this you?”

he gulps. he nods.

“it’s good. really fucking good.”

he clears his throat and sits back, pushing into the backrest like it would swallow him up if he tried hard enough. hearing himself come through the speakers, as if he’s on the radio, is almost enough to pretend that he’s become what he’s always wanted.

his playlist goes through two more songs before you pull into a long gravel driveway up a hill. you come to a slow stop in front of a large, two-storey farmhouse with a peaked roof.

he can’t hide his surprise as he gazes up at the house. the deck is painted a dark green, matching the rolling hills and forests that fade off into the sky behind your home. it’s so quiet out here that his mind nearly inserts sounds of traffic to make it seem more like what he’s used to.

you open his door. “not what you expected?”

he jumps at being caught staring. you only laugh, already holding onto his books. you’ve slung his bag over your shoulder on top of your own, and the combined weight surely can’t be easy, but you make it seem like it is.

“sorry!” he fumbles for an appropriate response. “i just, uh, i thought – you’re, like—”

“yeah, most people think that.” you lift a shoulder in a half-shrug. “when you go to such an elite school, wealthy becomes the norm, i guess. now, let’s go – i’ll get you home in time for dinner.”

he follows you through the sliding door, which you shut with your foot. after kicking your shoes off, you lead him through the cosy kitchen, which has a perfect view of the green forest below.

upstairs, you take the first door to the right, which is your bedroom. you pass him his books and bag and drop yours unceremoniously at the foot of the bed.

“where are your parents?” namjoon asks timidly, gazing around. you’ve got a glass cabinet containing trophies and medals, and at this point, it looks like a hall of fame. he’s not shocked by the number of golds, but it does make him feel rather intimidated.

“out,” you sigh, flopping back on your bed. your legs hang over the end.

you roll over to grab a backpack that leans against the wall, then roll back over and sit on the edge of the bed, legs stretched out as you smile up at namjoon. “even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t bother us. well, except to bring us snacks, maybe.”

namjoon’s kind of jealous. his parents are the kind to tell him to always keep his bedroom door open to make sure he’s not – doing anything strange.

“it’s a nice day. you mind if we study outside, cutie?”

“yeah, s-sure.”

another sliding door, just past the dining table, leads outside to a deck that wraps around the house. stepping out, you point him towards a pair of slides and don a pair of your own.

you dump the contents of the backpack onto a table. an ashtray sits in the middle, and you put it on the floor.

namjoon takes a seat opposite you. he asks warily, “do you smoke?”

“hm?” you look up. “oh, no. can’t stand the smell.”

it’s a simple thing, and one that would make a lot of sense, but namjoon’s become used to every desirable kid at school either excessively smoking or drinking. you’re a respite from that.

you flip through a coloured folder of loose-leaf paper, each neatly titled and dated. you choose a sheet of questions and pass it over, gazing hopefully at namjoon. “i was struggling with these. think you could help?”

namjoon glances over them. birds chirp in the trees surrounding the house. “of course. we’ll go over the theory first.” he glances up. “i-is that okay?”

you grin. “cool.”

namjoon gets more and more relaxed around you as your session continues. he often tutors the juniors when their parents think they need to be getting better grades, and he’s been doing it for so long that he gets back into the comfort of the routine relatively quickly.

he only notices it when he stops stuttering around you. and, like becoming aware of his own breathing, he can’t retain that composure.

“are you afraid of me?” you ask, all of a sudden.

“w-what?”

“do i scare you?” you repeat with a small frown, leaning back in your chair. “you’re awfully quiet.”

he scratches his cheek, flushing. “you don’t. i’m just…” in love with you.

“just…?”

he shakes his head. “uh, nothing. have you answered that question?”

“mhm.” you push it over.

his golden skin glows in the afternoon light. the lens of his glasses catches the sun as he shifts – it’s like the heavens have seen him and decided, yes, this one is the one. the smooth curve of his jaw complements the sharpness of his warm eyes. and his dimples. 

oh, his dimples. you want to make sure those never disappear.

he scans the question and checks it against his own. “you’ve done it right. except here – you’ve messed up the molar mass. easy fix. it should be two hundred—”

“do you know how pretty you are?”

when he finally manages to process your words, it physically feels as if the top of his head had been taken off. he stammers out something incomprehensible.

you chuckle, placing your chin on your folded arms. “i’m serious. i like the way you look when you’re concentrating.”

“m-me?” he asks weakly.

“yeah, you. who else is here?” you tilt your head, trying to catch his eyes. “you have really nice lips.”

unconsciously, he covers his mouth. “p-please don’t say that…”

“why not? it’s true.”

“don’t play with me,” he says, sharper than he intended.

you frown. the light shifts as you sit properly. “what are you talking about, namjoon?”

“i’m nothing like who you date. how much are they betting?”

“betting?”

he shakes his head and begins pushing his pens into his bag, stuffing his textbooks on top of them. “yn, you don’t need to play dumb. what you’ll do is get me hooked on you, toss me around for a week or two, and mark off another tally. well, congratulations—” he stands up “—because you’ve already checked off step one.”

he turns to leave. 

“namjoon!” you grab his wrist. “what are you on about? this isn’t because of a bet. hell, this isn’t even about chemistry!”

he tries to tug his arm back but it’s useless. apparently, those trophies actually mean something.

“i really like you, namjoon. look, glare all you want, but i wouldn’t lie to you. not about this, and not ever.”

he stops pulling, so you loosen your grip, sliding your fingers along the fine bones of his wrist. you link your fingers with his – hesitating, before pressing your palms together. his are warm, and the pads at the base of his fingers are rosy and soft.

he blinks owlishly. he whispers, staring at your entwined hands, “you’re – you’re serious?”

“deadly.” you smile. you step closer. “can i… can i kiss you?”

his head bobs once, his breath stuck in his throat.

his lips are plush and stick at the corners, the cool spring breeze and his own nervousness making his tongue dart out to wet his lower lip habitually. he smells like tangerines. your lips mould together – softly, and shyly.

you part for air. you lift a hand to his face, cupping his burning cheek, and laugh breathlessly, grinning so wide it hurts. “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do that.”

“try me,” he says, and tugs you down by your collar to kiss you once more.

[harrysweasleys]

know-it-all // g.w

summary: Could you please write a fluffy fic about George and a Ravenclaw reader arguing about an answer on an exam or an assignment. And in the end it turns out George was right. And I would love it if you could include the exchange, "Don't say it!" "I told you so." "I said don't say it."

warnings: mentions of food

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i am back with my twin fics! woah! it’s been a while, sorry about that. life has been wild and i didn’t have much motivation but here we go! i hope you all enjoy!! x

[i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other platform!]

For what felt like the billionth time of that afternoon, you dropped your head onto the table and let your forehead smack against the solid wooden surface. You could feel different sets of eyes peering in your direction from other tables in the library, all silently questioning what was wrong with you. 

The answer was simple: Potions.

Snape had set out a stupid assignment that, to be completely fair, was way out of your league. For every time you thought he was an awful professor, he sunk remarkably lower. 

The topic of said assignment was one that you guys hadn’t even covered yet, and given by Snape’s tone of voice when a student had brought that very point up in class, he really couldn’t care less. It didn’t help that you were already ridiculously occupied with other end-of-year assignments — you didn’t want to get stuck teaching yourself a whole new branch of potion-making as well. You were barely sleeping nights and only showed up to dinner every second day, the library study hours becoming your very best friend. 

It was just a lot. 

It also didn’t help that you could see the golden rays of the sunlight pouring in through the dusty library window, signalling that it was once again the end of the day, and tomorrow, bright and early, you’d be handing in the assignment that you were nearly certain you’d botched. 

Dinner was likely being prepared in the Great Hall right about now, the wonderful smell of roast potatoes and pumpkin juice running through your mind, but you honestly weren’t up to eating. You were feeling rather down in the dumps, forehead still pressed against the wooden table, and your mind reeling around the assignment.

“You look like you could use some assistance.”

You lifted your gaze, sure that there was now a bright red spot on your forehead, and glared over at George, who had just taken the seat across from you at the table. His grin was wide but his eyes were tired — you knew he was busy working on assignments of his own, as well his summer plans for opening the shop. Yet somehow he always found time to help you. 

He tilted his head to the side when you gave him an exhausted stare, blinking rapidly before you processed his question. 

“Do you remember doing this last year?” you asked, sliding over the assignment paper, giving a small cough to clear your dry throat. George, being in the year ahead of you, had quite the knack for Potions. He liked to say it was because it was just utterly fascinating and he was a purely, genuinely, naturally gifted student, but you knew he only did so well because he’s been brewing his own disastrous concoctions since he was a young boy. With practice comes skill, you always said. 

And you prayed to Merlin that said skill would come in handy right about now. 

His eyes scanned the paper and he gave a small shake of his head, “No, but I think you’ve got this wrong. You wrote Leech Juice here, but I’m pretty sure the answer is actually Acromantula Venom.”

You frowned, snatching the paper back from him — making him flinch and take a quick look at his fingers for any paper cuts — and stared down at your answer, “What? No. The obvious answer is Leech Juice. This was the only question I understood. I know the answer to this one, it’s the others that I can’t seem to figure out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “It’s Acromantula Venom, darling. That I know for sure.”

Though you were grateful for his presence and the fact that he was willing to help, you knew he was wrong about that one. Any first year could tell the answer was Leech Juice. But you didn’t feel like arguing with him any more than necessary with time running low, so you just gave your paper back and frowned.

“Can you help me with any of these? Professor Snape hasn’t said a single thing about any of these topics, and I’m sick of flipping through book after book, not even sure what I’m looking for,” you let out a sigh, “It feels like he’s purposefully setting us up for failure,” you muttered the last part under your breath, not wanting anyone other than George to hear your complaints.

His hand reached across the table and linked with yours, his soft fingers calming down the rapid, stressed-out beating of your heart, and gave you a small smile, “If he hasn’t taught you this, I’m sure that you’re not the only one having a hard time.”

You groaned, trying to pull your hand out of his, unfortunately failing as his grip was stronger than yours. 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you said, voice low, “I don’t want to fail, even if everyone else does. That’ll always show up on my reports.”

He pursed his lips, giving you a small nod, “Alright, I get that. Why don’t you take a break? We’ll go eat, and then finish this up later, yeah? You can head over to the Common Room with me after dinner, I doubt anyone will say anything.”

A sigh left your lips as you began to place your parchment and books into a pile, George grabbing your ink bottle and quill — which had kindly left little indents in your hand due to aggressive use — and the two of you began to make your way to the Great Hall. 

After leaving the library, you could feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders. As if the tense study environment that you had felt stuck in had now been leeched away from you. As if you could now think clearly. You gave George a small smile, thankful that he arrived when he did. 

Merlin, why was sixth year so difficult? If it wasn’t for George’s calmness and sanity, you’d probably be a melted mess of failed papers and shining blue robes on the floor. 

As you made your way into the Hall, heading towards the Ravenclaw table, George pressed a kiss to your forehead and muttered, “Acromantula Venom,” against your skin, shooting you a wink before he made off to his own house table. 

You gave a small scowl, mouthing “Leech Juice” right back at him. 

— —

“Oh, well, now would you look at that,” George grinned, looking down at the assignment you were shoving in his face. A bright smile donned your lips as you flashed the score, a bright red E. 

Exceeds Expectations. 

It wasn’t the O — Outstanding — that you were hoping for, but Merlin, did the E feel good. That meant you had done better than Snape was expecting — and better than a majority of the class, by the looks of it. They had all walked out with solemn faces and shoved their papers in their bags as quickly as possible. Even the Slytherin girl who sat behind you, the one who always bragged about perfect grades and how much Snape favoured her, had left without saying a word. That fact alone really boosted your pride. 

“No thanks to your brilliant boyfriend,” George gave himself a pat on the back, giving you your now-crumpled paper. 

“Oh, sod off,” you gave him a nudge in the shoulder as you sat down on the couch next to him, the Gryffindor common room rather silent for this early in the evening. Despite being a Ravenclaw, passing students didn’t mind your presence in their house. After three years of dating George and always being in the space, they barely even noticed the blue of your tie amongst the red ones anymore. 

“Wait, what’s this?” George rapidly snatched the paper out of your hands — revenge for when you did it to him, most likely — and his eyes lingered on question number four, “Oh, well, would you look at that?”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest in preparation for his comment, “Don’t say it.”

His grin was so wide, you swore his cheeks would split, “You got Leech Juice wrong! And right here, scribbled in Snape’s hardly-legible writing, what does that say? It looks like A-Acro-,” 

“Don’t,” you didn’t meet his eyes, a sour expression on your face as George rubbed it in. 

“I told you so,” he leaned forwards, pressing a light kiss against your temple, arm slinging around you to bring you against his body. His warmth radiated through his sweater and it wasn’t helping the pettiness you were feeling in your chest. 

“I said don’t say it,” you grumbled, snapping your head away from him and staring at the blank brick wall next to the fireplace. His laugh vibrated through your body, and it took everything in you not to turn around and laugh with him. 

He placed one of his hands under your chin and turned your gaze to meet his, “Come on, I’m only playing. I’m proud of you, and I knew you’d do well. You were worried for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing!” you flailed your arms, letting them fall on your lap, “He sprung this out of the blue. Of course I was worried.”

“And you did brilliantly,” he pressed another kiss to your temple, sparks fluttering across your skin as his loving touch, “You always do, my brilliant little witch.”

You cracked.

A small smile made its way onto your lips as you leaned into his touch, loving the feeling of being close to him. And it felt even sweeter knowing that you hadn’t failed — that this was a victory hug. 

“Love you,” he mumbled against your hand, bringing your knuckles up to his lips and pressing a kiss on each one. You leaned your head on his shoulder, bringing your lips to his neck to mumble the same words against his skin. 

A victory. 

taglist

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[makeste]

literally just another giant post of Bakugou faces.

so I did this last year, but I only got up to chapter 120 before I ran out of steam. happily, though, this left me with an additional 190 chapters’ worth of glorious gremlin faces to choose from for this year’s edition! which I figure I had better do, before tumblr finally pulls the plug on my poor sweet image limit.

so without further ado, happy birthday to Kacchan, and happy birthday to Kacchan’s asymmetrical HAH face where his eyes do the thing like ( ◣益◢).

why I like it: so this is from Kirishima’s flashback in chapter 133, where Kirishima was getting all down on himself because his quirk Only Does One Thing, and Kacchan was all “nah bro don’t worry about it because your One Thing is totally fucking rad, and you’re strong enough to withstand anything.” so that of course was incredibly sweet, and one of the few times we’ve seen him give an actual heartfelt pep talk without so much as a single insult thrown into the mix. but what really puts this scene over the top for me is the fact that you can see the ever-so-subtle hints of guilt and regret when he talks about All Might and Kamino. for just a moment, he gets this distant look in his eyes, and his expression turns soft and contemplative. basically this is a rare collector’s edition Kacchan face you will not find in many other places.

why I like it: because this frankly needs to happen in every damn fight until this kid finally gets it through his thick skull to ditch the mask so we can see every fantastic facial expression in full 4k glory. work with me here please Kacchan.

why I like it: because character growth!! this was our first big moment of post-DvK2 Kacchan development, and the payoff was well worth the wait. it only took him 166 chapters to realize that it’s hard to grow as a person if you’re determined to be a humongous dick to every single person you meet!! lmao, but it’s progress though.

why I like it: these two panels are criminally underrated. the way his face transforms when Deku gets the answer wrong dlkjfldk. this is easily one of the funniest subtle gags in the entire series.

why I like it: “hey Bakugou do you want to play in our band?” “fuck you, no.” “pretty please.” “fine, but I refuse to call it a band.” “well then what do you want to call it -- ” “MURDER.”

why I like it: GONNA MURDER EVERYONE BY PLAYING THE DRUMS!!!! SOMEHOW WE’VE SUCCESSFULLY COMPARTMENTALIZED THIS SCHOOL-SANCTIONED DISPLAY OF PERFORMING ARTS AS A DEATH MATCH. OH TO UNDERSTAND THE INNER WORKINGS OF THIS YOUNG MAN’S MIND.

why I like it: hah?! I love how he has to tilt his neck all the way back every single time he does this. he’s so cute I love him so much.

why I like it: somewhere around this point in the manga Kacchan decided to do away with being handsome and decided to just be a full-time gremlin in every single panel. this persisted for the next 90 chapters or so and he was very dedicated. I’m pretty sure he was going for vulgar and intimidating, but unfortunately for him he’s too inherently adorable and so the end result is just endearing and almost charming in its own way.

why I like it: this was from chapter 194 when Aizawa was announcing that they’d have a special guest for the Joint Training arc, and so Kacchan was all “BOY OH BOY A NEW ASS TO KICK.”

why I like it: more character development! and just look at that confidence! he’s fully recovered from his low point after Kamino and the provisional exam. he knows what he’s about now, and he is THRIVING. and once again you can see how his conviction inspires the people around him and makes them more determined. just, he is going to be such a good number one hero you guys.

why I like it: it’s the three little “!!!” lines hovering in the corner next to his head for me. “oh my god it’s All Might, All Might saw me being cool and Saving To Win and stuff, what’s he gonna say what do I do omg quick act natural.”

why I like it: QUICK HIDE YOUR FEELINGS!! WE CAN’T LET THE NEIGHBORS KNOW WE CARE. fjkdlsjklk

why I like it: this is his expression when he first sees Deku activate Blackwhip for the first time. it’s one of the few unguarded expressions of complete surprise that we’ve gotten from him and I love it thank you.

why I like it: classic asymmetrical HAH face. he truly has perfected this look. look at him, casually clinging to a pole for no reason other than to look dynamic. this boy truly cannot sit or stand or walk or do anything normally. he spent three months working his ass off to catch up to Deku and the others, and now that he finally has he’s filled with so much pent-up energy that he simply cannot hold it back anymore and he’s gotta climb a pole. he’s just gotta.

why I like it: because he is so fucking good at saving people now you guys, he’s like a whole-ass professional and shit, and yet it hasn’t changed who he is one single iota. he will save your life and he will SCREAM AT YOU WHILE DOING IT and you’ll sit there and be grateful goddammit.

why I like it: o noo he was caught unawares. All Might was all “I’m gonna have a dad moment and nobody can stop me” and he walked right up to him and put his hand on his head because he’s All Might and so what is he even gonna do about it. nothing, that’s what. you got played, Kacchan. outmaneuvered and outfoxed. all he can do is stand there and make that grumpy face he makes when he’s receiving unwanted affection (҂⌣̀_⌣́).

why I like it: more unwanted affection. now they’re even feeding him ffs. how could he let this happen. mm chicken.

why I like it: GREATEST ASYMETRICAL HAH?! FACE OF ALL TIME. out of all the people to befriend him against his will, Todoroki is by far the most confusing to him and it’s just so great.

why I like it: this is when Hawks is staring at him in chapter 244 because he fake-killed his mentor and stuff and he feels sorta guilty about it. but meanwhile Kacchan just thinks he’s trying to start some shit, and so he’s all “I WAS FASTER THAN YOU BACK THERE YOU KNOW” and Hawks is all “hahaha okay little buddy you just keep telling yourself that”, because as previously discussed Kacchan is too adorable to ever be intimidating.

why I like it: this is from 246 when he’s in the middle of arguing with Burnin’ and all of a sudden Endeavor calls to him and he’s just like o shit what’d I do.

why I like it: because Endeavor’s mentoring them and shit and he’s just casually sitting there eating his lunch like yeah. with his lil hamster cheeks lulz.

why I like it: the look that instantly became iconic. this panel cured me of the misconception that Bakugou “goes to bed at 8:30pm” Katsuki was a morning person. the truth is he loathes all times of the day equally.

why I like it: this one is a team effort because Deku’s faces are equally as good. I’m genuinely shocked that this family dinner with the Todorokis didn’t prematurely unlock Danger Sense. you can tell that he and Deku have a silent agreement to call a temporary truce on their rivalry for as long as they sit at this table as outsiders in this strange land. this is by far the most hazardous meal Bakugou has ever experienced, and yet the mapo tofu is too good to go to waste, so he’s just shoveling it down his throat trying to finish as much as possible before shit inevitably hits the fan.

why I like it: Kacchan is New Here so he doesn’t yet realize that if the Todorokis are spilling family secrets, there is always inevitably going to be someone listening in the shadows just outside the door.

why I like it: the battle with Ending was probably peak gremlin!Kacchan. like, we’ve had gremlin before and afterwards, but never quite to this same degree. Horikoshi really decided to push the limits of contorting this child’s face in the strangest ways.

why I like it: peak. gremlin.

why I like it: nothing to see here, just Kacchan quietly realizing after 252 chapters that he MIGHT have been just a BIT of a cartoonishly villainous asshole to Deku back at the beginning there ha ha ha oh god oh fuck.

why I like it: because he found the answer to What It Is That He Lacks, and he’s all cool and calm and infuriatingly secretive about it. it’s such a sudden and stark contrast to the gremlin faces he was making only moments earlier, and it makes this moment hit home that much more.

why I like it: because this is him being friends with Deku!! like for real though!! because he’s fucking around and insulting him and making weird faces and stuff, but it’s because in his mind That’s What Friends Do. they clown on each other and help each other train and shit. half an hour after this they’ll go down to the training gym and play Catch-A-Kacchan, and then he’ll quietly confess to All Might that he wants to atone. he may be a gremlin, but he’s a gremlin with layers goddammit.

why I like it: because this is right after TomurAFO shows up out of nowhere and scares the shit out of him and Deku and makes them see a terrifying death vision and stuff, and you can see how shaken up he is by it. he definitely understands how close they came to dying just then and he’s sobered the fuck up. this is the moment when it really sinks in that shit has gotten real. eight minutes from now he’ll move without thinking and save Deku’s life.

why I like it: hydro homies. nothing restores those electrolytes like good old Raquaius Sports Drink.

why I like it: because this panel was when it started to become clear that the real reason he grabbed this sports drink was to pretend like he was busy so he could act like he wasn’t interested in Deku’s training because god forbid the neighbors know that he actually cares.

why I like it: because the sideways glance!! and the fact that he doesn’t deny it!! in fact he does the opposite of denying it, and he basically starts pouring his heart out about how goddamn worried he actually is. he’s guilty and anxious and restless and this entire conversation is amazing.

why I like it: he looks so goddamn young here. when he finally stops scrunching up his face and putting on his usual tough guy act and for once allows his actual emotions to show on his face instead, the result is so damn striking. for once we got an entire conversation with no gremlin faces, because Horikoshi had to drop them completely in order to show just how serious he is here. which was incredibly effective btw.

why I like it: because he’s basically just fidgeting with the bottle now to avoid making eye contact with All Might because he just revealed a deep dark secret to him and he’s precariously vulnerable right now. that’s the body language of a kid who knows how badly he fucked up, and just wants to hear from someone else if it’s going to be okay, if he can still make it okay. he looks so small here.

why I like it: the worry lines under his eyes. the look of uncertainty and wanting to believe that what All Might says is true (“you’ll get a chance to talk eventually”). the hesitance to turn back and look at him, and the way he doesn’t dare until he finally gets that small bit of reassurance. All Might isn’t judging him. All Might understands him and understands where he’s coming from, and he’s giving him his blessing. he’s giving him a thumbs up and reassuring him that he sees the change in him and sees that he’s sincerely trying, and basically saying that he has faith that he and Deku will be able to work it out. and you can see that it means a lot.

why I like it: because this kid spent his entire internship with Jeanist doing nothing but bitching nonstop, and then later on when Jeanist went missing he was all tight-lipped about it because once again NOBODY CAN KNOW THAT WE CARE GODDAMMIT, and it was all very Classic Bakugou. but then Jeanist finally shows up again at Jakku, and we get this little moment of happy, smirky FUCK YEAH, I KNEW YOU WEREN’T DEAD YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, and it’s just the best.

why I like it: HE’S SO UNABASHEDLY PROUD GOD BLESS HIM.

why I like it: because he nearly died and then he woke up here in the hospital two days later not knowing where anybody else is or whether they’re even still alive, and this, my friends. this is finally the moment. the moment where he was all FUCK IT, MAYBE WE CAN LET THE NEIGHBORS KNOW WE CARE AFTER ALL. character fucking development. you love to see it.

BONUS:

WHAT HAVE I BECOME, MY SWEETEST FRIEND. EVERYONE I KNOW GOES AWAY IN THE END.

happy birthday Katsuki. feel better sweetie. HORIKOSHI YOU BETTER TREAT HIM RIGHT I AM COUNTING ON YOU.

[annenhypen]

Falling

jay x reader

high school au! strangers to friends to lovers au!

word count: 2.8k

writer’s note: this is the longest work i have written so far and I ENJOYED WRITING IT SO MUCH! I really want to write drabbles for this pairing if this does well!!! let me know what you guys think.

tags: @gratefulmaria @azeugirdor @eggbutnotyolk @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3

Before Meeting Him

You and your boyfriend, Daniel, had a steady relationship. Growing up together and ending up going to the same schools, it was like you guys were destined to be together. You were best friends until one day he asked you out and decided to change your title to his “girlfriend”.

You were seated next to him in the first period as he turned his head to face you.

“I heard there’s a new transfer student in our class” he informed you, causing your eyebrows to shoot up. Students rarely changed schools in the beginning of the senior year, so you got curious about the new presence in your class.

He entered the classroom on his first day, dressed in a black hoodie in contrast to his bleached hair but matching his black jeans. Every clothing he put on that day was black except for the four silver rings he put on his hands. He stood next to your teacher and introduced himself to the class. Despite his dark style, he introduced himself with a bright smile that caught your attention for a little too long. Jay. His name fits his appearance you thought. You watched him walk to the only empty seat in the classroom which was the seat in front of your boyfriend who was sitting next to you. You looked away when he made eye contact with you, catching you staring at him.

Meeting Him

Turns out that Jay was not just your classmate. He was also the son of the family who moved in next door. You were surprised to see him open the door when your mother sent you to give your new neighbors a welcome gift, freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. You collected yourself and smiled brightly, holding out the plate filled with cookies in front of you.

“Hello, I am Y/N. I live next door and my mother sent these for you to say welcome to our neighborhood.” you explained, finally looking at his eyes. He smiled back at you, taking the plate out of your hands.

“Thank you so much, it’s very nice of her and you. I am Jay. I am pretty sure we are classmates as well.” he answered. You nodded at him.

“I’ll see you in class then” you said and took one step back to go back to your house. You saw him wave a goodbye at you before turning around.

An Offer

Many things were unpredictable in your life. For example, you never expected your relationship with Daniel to come to an end so quickly but it did. You also did not expect your long term friendship with your -now- ex boyfriend to get ruined, following your break-up. You were still seated next to each other in class but you rarely talked. He never texted you about anything other than your classes. It was a hard time for both of you. You were sad because losing a friend who has been there all along was not easy to take it in.

“I am going to assign all of you into study groups today. I am expecting you guys to meet outside of class to encourage each other to study for the upcoming exams” announced your homeroom teacher on the third Friday of your senior year, causing your classmates to whine to voice their complaints out. You opened your notebook as you waited for your name to be called.

“Ruby, Luke, Y/N, Jay and Daniel, you guys are Team B” you heard your teacher added after checking his journal.

Here’s how these “study groups” worked: every group member had to do their best and get a good grade on the exams. After the exams week, the average grade for each team was calculated by your teacher and the team with the highest average score received a prize in return. This way, your teacher made sure everyone helped each other to increase the average grade for their teams.

“Make sure to exchange phone numbers and make a group chat to discuss your study plans and meetings” your teacher suggested.

You pulled out a loose-leaf and tapped on Jay’s shoulder who was seating in front of Daniel. He looked back with a questioning expression.

“Write your phone number down and pass the paper to Ruby” you confided and he nodded back at you before taking the paper from your hands. You took the paper back after Ruby and Luke wrote their numbers down. Of course you did not have to ask for Daniel’s number.

“I’ll create a group chat after school, we can discuss the details there” you reported, gaining a nod from every member of your study group.

You were a competitive student. Your grades were always above average and these study group contests made you even more ambitious. As nerdy as it sounded, you wanted to make sure everyone in your team performed well on the upcoming exams.

You knew Ruby was a bright student. Daniel studied regularly as well. Luke was okay as far as you knew. However, you did not know about Jay’s academics. You were determined to learn about it and help him if he needed your help.

“Hey Jay, do you want to walk home together after school?” you asked, smiling politely. He turned to you in surprise and took a look at Daniel’s face. He smirked at Daniel’s clenched jaw and accepted your offer.

Plans

You saw Jay playing with his phone in front of the school gates when you exited the school building. He was wearing his leather jacket, making you look like a child next to him with your fluffy pastel pink cardigan and white outfit. He put his phone into his back pocket when you reached his side.

“You ready?” he questioned looking down at your face. You looked so short compared to his tall figure. You felt intimidated by his eyes and chose to look down at your shoes before nodding your head.

“So… How are you?” he asked, breaking the dead silence as you walked side by side.

“I’m good. I should ask you how you are. Were you able to get used to living here?” you asked, feeling, less nervous as you walked.

“Yes… Actually, I couldn't explore much since I don’t have many friends around here and I usually just go to school and return home during the week” he explained and scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. I probably sound like a loser, he thought. You thought for a little before speaking again.

“Hey, I can show you around this weekend if you want? I didn’t have anything planned anyway. Also, this is like the last weekend we can enjoy before studying for the exams. That is… if you want to, of course… I get it if you don’t-“ your rambling got interrupted by Jay’s little chuckle. Cute, he thought.

“I would like that,” he answered. You couldn’t help but smile at his acceptance of your invitation.

“This is kind of random but do you like pancakes?” you asked out of nowhere.

“Who doesn’t like pancakes?” he answered your question with another question causing you to chuckle. I already like this guy, you thought.

“Alright, then we can go to this local diner I know for breakfast tomorrow and start our little tour afterwards” you suggested while looking at him to wait for his answer.

“Alright, sounds like a plan” he concluded. Jay couldn’t help but think how much he wanted this “little tour” of yours to be an actual date.

Getting to Know Him

“Oh you should meet Mr. Bubbles” you insisted as you watched Jay take another bite of his blueberry pancakes. You wanted to introduce your fat Scottish fold to your new friend who apparently loves cats.

“I would love to…But unfortunately, I am allergic to cats” he replied, looking a little sad. You felt the need to comfort him inside you.

“Don’t be so sad! I can just show him to you through the window of my room” you suggested. You heard his small chuckle before nodding at your direction.

From this morning, you learned that Jay is not as intimidating as he looked from outside. He moved to your town from Seattle because of his father’s job. He was good at subjects like English and History but he said he could use some help with Math. His favorite genre of music was Rock and he took dance classes back in Seattle. He was interested in fashion and he liked cats. He had an easygoing personality and a pretty smile- wait, a big smile you meant.

In addition, Jay learned that you liked many more things other than studying: you enjoyed watching romantic comedies the most but one of your common interests was that both of you liked watching anime. You also liked cooking even though you were not as experimental as Jay when you entered the kitchen. Jay was stunned when he learned your favorite rock band: ONE OK ROCK because that was his favorite band too. He was surprised to find similarities between you two when you looked so different from outside. He also learned how much he liked your laugh and how hard he wanted to try to make you laugh more often to just listen to your laugh.

Not so long after, you paid the check and headed to your next destination.

“We’re going to the beach, I hope you know how to ride a bike” you chimed while walking backwards in front of Jay.

“Of course I know how to ride a bike! Who do you think I am?” he fought back right before you tripped on something and almost fell on your butt. He reached forward to catch you by your waist, saving you from both: the pain and the embarrassment of falling in front of Jay.

You both went silent when you were chest to chest. You looked up to Jay’s face while holding your breath. You looked at his eyes and he stared back at yours. You saw his eyes flicker to your lips and that was the signal you got before pulling away from his hold.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy” you mumbled looking down at your feet, continuing to walk next to Jay. He strolled next to you but he did not miss the pink shade on your cheeks before looking ahead.

***

Oh my god Y/N! Get your shit together! What is wrong with you, you just spent a single day with the guy! You told yourself that night, laying down on your bed when you came back from your day with Jay.

Okay, he was attractive, funny and nice to you. He also was a good listener and he was talkative as well. You felt comfortable spending time with him and you felt bad when you said goodbye to him in front of your house before you got in. You sighed before rubbing your eyes and tried to fall asleep without thinking about your cute, hot, funny and sweet classmate.

Study Group

You opened the gates of the coffee shop you were supposed to meet with your study mates 10 minutes later than your agreed meeting time. You hurried your way upstairs where it was more quiet than downstairs and you saw your group members sitting on a table in the left corner of the room. You apologized for being late when you reach their table and took the only empty seat next to Daniel, across from Jay.

You opened your backpack to take your materials out when you realized a cup of coffee was pushed in front of you. You looked up to see Jay grinning at you. He went back to taking notes on his notebook when you reached for the cup to take a sip from it. You realized it was a latte with unsweetened vanilla. Your usual order. He remembered your order from the coffee shop you went on your little tour right before you went to see the local art gallery. You looked at his face to see him watching your reaction. You gave him a small smile while mouthing "thank you" and he returned your smile with a little nod.

Confession

It was right before the Christmas break started when Jay came to terms with his feelings for you. Between the walks you took home together, the shared snacks between classes, the laughs shared during the lunch periods, and the times he snuck into your room to watch your favorite anime together at night when you were both supposed to be sleeping, he fell for you.

Jay was a straightforward guy. If he feels something, he might as well tell you about it. Worst case scenario: you would kindly reject him and he would move on. So he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and texted you.

You grabbed your cardigan from your closet and opened the gates of the kitchen which looked at the backyard as quiet as possible to not wake your parents up. You saw Jay putting his hands in his pockets while waiting for you in the middle of your backyard. His back was facing you so you thought you could have a little fun.

You reached him while tiptoeing silently and grabbed his waist from behind.

“BOO!” you whisper screamed. He jumped and pushed you away while you tried to hold your laugh, but failed miserably. He watched you laugh while he shook his head in disbelief.

“I knew it! You’re still scared of the ghosts” you accused him, stepping forward and putting your pointing finger on his chest. He watched you having fun with an amusing smile plastered on his face. He reached for your waist with his both hands while still looking at you with the same amused smile.

“Why do I even like you?” he muttered in disbelief. You froze. He watched your surprised expression and realized what he just blurted out.

“What?” you asked looking down at his chest because looking into his eyes was very hard at that moment. Jay took a deep breath before continuing.

“I thought I was pretty obvious” he said casually. Your heart was beating so fast that you got scared that Jay might have heard its banging on your chest. You bowed your head down and your forehead touched Jay’s chest. You were shy.

“Ilikeyoutoo” you mumbled so fast, Jay almost couldn’t catch it. Cute, he thought and you felt his lips press on your forehead. You hugged his waist while he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck under the light of the stars.

Secrecy

Ever since you started going on dates with Jay, it was during the Christmas break. You went to cute cafes to drink hot chocolate, went ice skating, and did all the holiday activities together. One thing you didn’t talk about was how you were going to act when you got back to school. So you started sneaking around instinctively.

It was another study group meeting before the upcoming exams. You were seated between Ruby and Jay at one of the tables in your local library’s study hall when you felt Jay’s hand grabbing yours under the table. You turned to look at his face but he shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t care. You intertwined your hand with his and put them on top of your thigh. He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as both of you continued reading your textbooks.

When you were done with studying for History, you had to grab another book from the aisle where English textbooks were put. You got up, letting go of Jay’s hand in the process and went to the English books section. You searched through the bookshelves to find the book you needed. As you were focused on reading the names of various textbooks, you felt a small kiss pressed on the exposed skin of the back of your neck. Your breath caught in the back of your throat when you turned around to see Jay smirking at you.

“They could have seen us” you whispered to him, slapping his arm.

Not So Secretive

Jay entered the class, playing with the straps of his backpack when he saw you sitting on your seat while playing with your phone. He reached his seat to find Daniel sitting on it.

“Why are you sitting here?” questioned Jay, tilting his head to the empty seat next to you where Daniel seated every day except for that day. Daniel let a sigh before looking up at Jay.

“Don’t you want to sit next to your girlfriend?” he asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

Jay did not respond before sitting next to you. You turned your head to see who was seating next to you in surprise before he leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek in front of your classmates.

[katierosefun]

god tomorrow!!! I don't remember ever crying this much watching a show as I did with tomorrow and yet it was just. so soft and gentle to my soul??? like there's definitely some stuff that could be better but overall it's just!! so good and cathartic and so well done and idk where I'm going with this but it's just. lovely djdjekdkd

god yeah! i love tomorrow so much so far--it's only been about 2 days since i started the show, and i'm already about to start episode 8. it's so . . . it's just so good? i think the first episode especially was just so intense, but i think it was a good way to start the show, just because bullying is something that so many people have struggled with.

but anyways: yes. tomorrow feels so cathartic. i tried to write a little bit about my thoughts on the show last night in a post, actually, but then it wound up being awfully ramble-y (even more ramble-y than i usually am), and i was just so . . . god ! ! ! i cry at least once or twice per episode, just because it's so lovely and healing is absolutely the word that comes to mind. because i think that given tomorrow is about . . . grim reapers preventing people from committing suicide, i really thought that i would personally feel a little Not Great at the themes, but i've never seen a show that so . . . tenderly examined people who would go so far as to try to take their own life.

the way that tomorrow so firmly, so repeatedly says that wanting to die has nothing to do with one's strength as a person or whether someone's "just sad", but instead digs right into thoughts about how i don't want to live like this anymore, that's why i want to die--it's just so full of compassion, because i think that even today, a lot of people can't empathize with people who have either committed suicide / have had suicidal thoughts. there's always this underlying judgement, the kind that goes "oh, they're just being too sensitive" or "i think they just like being miserable" or "they're just overreacting"--when in reality, one can't make that kind of judgement because every single life is so heavy and so complex, compiled together by causes and effects and ripples that just cumulate into this person who's just. very tired of constantly losing, in all sense of the word.

also, in general. i think it was goo ryeon who said that what the grim reapers do isn't necessarily to give someone a solution, but rather to comfort, give sympathy, empathize. this show is also fantastic in understanding that there are very real problems that each impacted person is facing--but first off, it's best to help people actually want to be kinder to themselves first. (which gets at what i think the first few episodes especially established: give yourself a genuine reason to laugh. tell yourself to live because the weather is nice, because the weather is cloudy. it wasn't ever your fault. thank you for the hard work.)

also, something i adore about this show is just how it takes everyone's reasons to want to die so seriously? because yeah, i think that the unfortunate truth is that if someone said "i want to die because i can't pass this exam" or "i want to die because everyone keeps commenting on my body" or "i want to die because i met my childhood bully again", there would be a lot more people who would laugh and roll their eyes, because seriously? you want to die because of that?

but tomorrow never does that. it looks at exactly how badly a person can struggle with each of those things. the writer who was bullied in her high school years can no longer smile without remembering all the awful things done to her. she had to try so hard to reach the place where she was, and then it all came crumbling down because she saw a face from her past. or the guy who wanted to die because he could never pass his standardized exams. (god, that one surprised me, but it was such a pleasant surprise, because i don't think people realize just how badly exams can really fuck up a person's idea of themselves. how exhausting it is to study for hours and hours and hours, and still never seem to get the score they want and then resent oneself for not having a good brain--or resent the people who just seem to study for a little bit and get a perfect score. it doesn't seem fair, especially if this person might have had to struggle with so much else in their lives. and that was at the core of that guy's character: he already had to struggle with so much, for his whole goddamn life, i could see why that exam was the tipping point.)

or the woman who was struggling with an eating disorder? that one also hit hard, because i don't think people recognize just how insane an eating disorder can turn your brain over. how it's usually stemming from already existing fucked up self esteem, and how it really never goes away, and god, it must sound silly to be like "i want to die because people keep commenting on my body", but it's not silly, it's understandable and sad.

because i dunno, i feel like sometimes, when people open up about why they want to die, the knee-jerk reaction of particularly mean people is to go "that's a stupid reason to die", but tomorrow says "no, no, i see why you don't want to live like this anymore. i might not have felt it, but i can tell you're in pain and you don't want to live like this. let me help." and it's so . . . god, it's so much! it's so validating! it's so real! it's so real, and it makes me cry literally Every Time!

it's just. there's so much. there's so much, this show is making me go insane and this show is healing and this show really got at the core of why people feel like they have nothing left to live for anymore. i've cried so many tears over this show and my eyesight's actually blurring a little just writing about this show because god, i don't think i've seen a show tackle suicide so beautifully and so compassionately before and i sound a bit like a broken record now, but each episode of tomorrow feels like a warm pat on the back, followed by a firm--but gentle--talking-to. i'm incredibly thankful to the writer, director, cast and crew for creating such a beautiful drama, because i just know that it's probably helping so, so, so many people, including myself. :'))

[courtlyharlequin]

Breathing Room

Warnings: fluff, no plot just brainrot,  lowkey horn knee, feral and angry Taku coming from nine o’clock because I squeezed too much of her favorite tropes into this

Summary: Humans are strange. Their hobbies and customs are bewildering, but nothing Jade couldn’t handle as he was quick to adapt. Sometimes, he might even partake in said activities. Case in point with hiking. And you, knowing Jade for a decent amount of time as his significant other, came to terms with the fact that he would decline a request to participate in something that didn’t pique his interest. So when you proposed that he play the pocky game with you, you were certain that he would decline. But he didn’t.

A/N: Happy birthday to the Jade simp, @takuyakistall​~! I’m so sorry that this was posted late but you’re already wary of that and thank you for supporting me through such a tough time. Ahhh life just doesn’t want me to simp for my hair wife! I tell you this a lot but I’ll say it again: I’m quite attached to you since you were my first tumblr friend. I didn’t have any in real life or online friends who like twst before meeting you so you mean a lot to me as my first. You always make me laugh whether it be bullying you or rotting over our mains together. Even when we get serious, I still love talking to you. You’re that amazing.  I hope you have an amazing day, one just as amazing as you are. Eat lots of cake and pocky. I love you ♡

“Jade,” you said, tugging at his sleeves.

He sighed through his strained smile as he set down a glass he was polishing. He tucked his hair behind his ear and dusted off his slacks as if he was brushing away invisible crumbs off the garment. It was an ungodly hour. He was working overtime for Mostro Lounge. Today was unusually busy. As vice prefect, Jade took it upon himself to bite off more than he could chew. And he could chew a lot actually. He was a moray eel with two sets of jaws and an immense appetite. In his human form, he only had one set of jaws yet the appetite remained.

The lounge was deserted. Students shuffled to the mirror chambers and headed to their respective dorms to retire for the night. Jade, on the other hand, was sitting on a barstool with an array of glasses and creased brows. You sat by his side, doing your assignments and engaging him in idle chatter here and there. He had promised to help you with your alchemy homework, but alas his duties called for him. In a way. You didn’t mind per se since he helped you understand the material within minutes during his short-lived breaks.

They were about three minutes long and Jade only took two breaks ever since his shift started. You weren’t an expert at reading people like he was, but even you could tell he could use some rest or a pick-me-up at least. Perhaps the latter. Jade was stubborn. He wasn’t going to head to his bedroom until he was done.

“Yes, (y/n)?”

You reached into your book bag and pulled out a small box of biscuits– pocky to be exact. You held it in front of his gaze. He cocked his head.

“Let’s play the pocky game.”

“Maybe later. We can play after I finish. Or tomorrow. It’s late so you should return to your living quarters and get some rest,” Jade said as he turned his attention to his task.

“Please? Think of it as a break. Your last one was about three hours ago.”

“Well, if you put it like that then I shall indulge you, my dear.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as he spun the barstool to make direct eye contact with you. You avoided his gaze as you opened the box, selecting a random stick of pocky and holding it in front of him. He took it and examined it with a perplexed expression.

“What is this?”

“Pocky.”

“Which is?”

“It’s like a cookie biscuit thing with a chocolate covering,” you said, getting yourself your own stick.

“I see. So this ‘pocky’ edible.”

“Yes,” you nodded, biting the pocky.

He mirrored your actions. You watched him chew it thoroughly. His eyes wandered around the ceiling of the lounge. You held your breath as he closed his eyes and exhaled.

“It’s delectable.”

Your shoulders relaxed and he chuckled under his breath. It would have been disappointing if Jade didn’t like pocky. That would mean you couldn’t persuade him to play the pocky game. You looked into his eyes lovingly while he nibbled on the remainder of the stick.

“And what is ‘the pocky game’?” Jade mused.

You took out another biscuit. His brows arched as you waited for him to swallow the last bit of his current pocky stick.

“The objective of the game is to be the last to hold onto the stick as we each take a bite and move closer to the center. Whoever is the last to pull away wins. You take one end and I’ll take the other. I’ll let you have the chocolate end because it’s your first time playing.”

“My, my how kind of you. I almost thought you were the headmaster. All you needed was to comment on your kindness.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned.

He brought his hand to chin. He feigned curiosity.

“Though… if you wanted to kiss me you could have just said, (y/n),” Jade gave you a toothy grin, ones he shot at the poor unfortunate freshmen souls that tried to escape the conditions of Octavinelle’s yearly exam contracts before chasing them down the hallways with his brother.

“I-I.. It would be more fun?”

“I jest, my pearl. There’s no shame in wanting to engage in intimacy. I shall indulge you. Though, I have a feeling that I will win every round– seeing as you get flustered even when I embrace you without warning fufu~”

There was not a shred of innocence in his voice. Jade knew where this was going. He was going to do everything in his power to win. He was good at that sort of thing, small ministrations that drove you wild.

When he found out that you were sensitive to neck kisses, chaste or not, he greeted you every morning outside of your first period threshold with a peck on the side of your neck. The first time he did that, you were reduced to a puddle of empty thoughts, a spasm of spiraling emotions and heated cheeks. The following incidents featured your hand instinctively shooting to the spot he kissed, cheeks still hot and bothered. When you had adapted to his rhythm, he kissed your neck in the halls, during lunch, and when he walked you back to your dorm. They were spontaneous and sporadic. They ceased when winter began and you wore a scarf around your neck all day, every day. Of course, that was months ago. The routine faded as your relationship developed. Jade had his share of teasing and came to understand that setting your nerves on fire on a daily basis despite your protests wasn’t exactly healthy. He also came to understand how people might get the wrong idea from neck kisses. He teased you for hours on end for being so lewd, but digressed when you were on the verge of tears due to embarrassment. That didn’t stop his other methods of teasing, but at least you were free from public surprise neck kisses.

Jade loved to tease. He was good at it too. He knew you and your ticks like the back of his hand. You were certainly going to lose this game, but it was better not to let your true feelings show and give him the upper hand.

You inserted the biscuit between Jade’s lips and took a deep breath before taking your end. It was more so a hybrid of a deep breath and a yawn. It was late after all.

Jade’s eyes widened and the stick broke in half. Your eyes widened as well.

“You’re supposed to hold onto the stick for a long as you can, silly.”

He closed his eyes: “Yes, my bad. Shall we try again?”

“One to zero,” you said as you slipped a biscuit into his lips.

“Did that count?”

“Of course it does.”

He pouted as you inhaled and exhaled deeply before taking your end of the pocky. It snapped immediately.

“Jade,” you whined, drawing out the last syllable of his name.

“Apologies, my dear. It seems to be instinctive for me to bite the stick.”

“You can bite. It’s just that the pocky keeps breaking in half whenever you bite it. Maybe try to be more gentle?”

“Two to zero.”

“You’re so cruel, (y/n).”

You giggled as you handed him the stick. He pursed his lips and held the stick out for you to take a bite from your end. You closed our eyes and opened your mouth to take a deep breath once more and the stick snapped before you knew it.

You looked up at Jade to see the pocky awkwardly sticking out of his hand which was covering his face. Mostro Lounge’s dim lights made it difficult to make out many details, but you were positive that Jade Leech was profusely blushing.

“Jade?”

“C-Could you not do that*?”

“Do what?”

What could have possibly reduced him to such an adorable state? He’s usually so composed. He was never this flustered. Out of all the times you tried to get him to break, he was resilient. And here you were, not having any idea as to what you did to make him blush.

“O-Open your mouth.”

“Pardon?”

A yawn escaped from your lips. Jade spun the bar stool around and stared at the glasses with sudden interest.

“Could you not do that?”

“Yawn?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

He mumbled something under his breath.  

“Jade?”

“(y/n), you should have just asked for a kiss.”

The eel stood up curtly from his seat. He towered over you and his eyes glowed in the dark lighting. He pulled out a pocky stick from the box in your petite hands and slipped it in between your lips. There was a small pause before he came crashing down. If he hadn’t been holding your shoulders so firmly, you might’ve fell over from the force that he exerted. He came barreling towards your lips. You weren’t sure if he had even bit the pocky. You felt it snap, but when you parted your mouth to allow his tongue to entangle with yours, you could not find a single trace of the biscuit. The flavor lingered in his mouth, but the pocky itself was nonexistent. Did he swallow it whole?

He did not leave your mind to wander too far from him. He kissed you hungrily and nipped at your lips. His sharp teeth grazed your flesh and you mewled into the kiss. You could hear him growl faintly as he held onto your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He tiled your head for a better angle. You pushed him away. You needed to catch your breath.  A string of saliva fell from your lips.

“Jade,” you gasped as he nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck.

“It would be in your best interest if you don’t do that again, especially during mating season. I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself next time. I might break you in half, dearest.”

Your cheeks flushed as you nodded absentmindedly. Mating season?

He bit your neck.You yelped and wriggled out of his embrace.

“Jade!” you hissed, clutching your neck.

“Consider that a small price to pay,” he chuckled.

You huffed.

“I win this time,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah…”

He packed the glasses onto a shelf.

“You’re free to go now. I’ve finished here so you don’t have to keep me company anymore. Would you like me to escort you?”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Goodnight, (y/n).”

“Goodnight, Jade. See you tomorrow.”

Though you had agreed not to yawn, it escaped your lips. Luckily, your back was facing Jade as you exited the lounge so he didn’t see you yawn, but rather heard you yawn. You heard a distant bang on the counter as well as a faint “dammit” from a voice you knew all too well.

It took every fiber in your body to restrain yourself from turning around. You knew all too well that if you turned around, he would’ve rushed towards you and snapped you in half just like a pocky stick. It was best to give him a little breathing room even if you were hot and bothered yourself.

*Note: To initiate the mating process, moray eels open their mouths very wide at each other to signal the start of it. This trait carries over to when (y/n) yawns as Jade took it as a sign for his eel-y instincts.

[deardragonbook]

Writing Reference: Wavy/Curly long hair

Character’s hair is one of the main defining characteristics, but hair isn’t just aesthetic. Hair has an affect on our day to day life, getting stuck in stuff, requiring care and as kids, an effective chew toy. 

It’s something to consider in our writing. So, here are some things I experience as a person with kind of wavy/curly/fuzzy hair. 

-It’s way longer than it looks. My hair doesn't look short, it’s significantly over shoulder length, but it also doesn’t look super long. Of course, if I straighten it while it’s wet it actually reaches down just over my hips. 

-It looks like you lose a lot because of it’s length. Because of the previously mentioned point, a single strand of hair of mine seems to go on forever. Whenever I brush my hair it looks like I’m losing handfuls and handfuls of hair. The amount of times people have asked me about my hair loss. And I’m just like, “nah, it’s normal”, because it’s always been like that and I’ve never had any problems. 

-Sometimes, you do lose a lot, but it’s not going to make a difference. There are some occasions during exams or high stress moments I do begin to lose quite a bit of hair. But it’s never actually made a difference, nobody other than me has ever been able to tell. Another thing about curly hair is depending on days, weather and other factors, it looks more or less voluminous so even if it made a difference nobody would notice. 

-If I cut it, I get horrible little curls. So, the way my hair works is the weight of the curls actually makes the very top of my hair straight. I like this. The style suits me and it’s easy to take care of. If I were to cut it, the weight would vanish and my hair would be completely curly. The problem is, sometimes hairdressers have made mistakes and cut strands too short, and then I’ll be stuck with this one random curls that won’t go away for literally years while my hair grows from shoulder length back to my hips length. Be picky with your hairdressers! Not just anybody can do curly hair, unfortunately. 

-A brush will ruin it. A normal brush. Most brushed. Brushed are not only difficult and painful and time consuming, it just makes my hair fuzzy and horrible and far more tangles then prior. I do occasionally use a de-tangle brush before a showers if I moved a lot in my sleep or went on motorbike. But other than that I pretty much exclusively “brush” my hair with my fingers and a lot of conditioner in the shower. 

-Straightening it lasts hours. As in a couple of hours and that’s it. When I was younger I tried and by the time I got to school it was fuzzy again. The only way my hair is staying straight is if running water is running down it. 

-It gets caught in everything and is extremely painful. I think one of the most painful things I do on a near daily basis is I put my glasses on after my helmet, and every time it gets hair caught in them and pulls and ugh, so much pain. Especially the shorter hairs near the ears from my experience. 

And that’s all I can think of for now. 

As usual,  check out my book, stories I’ve written plus other social medias: here.

I’d love to read writing references for hair unlike mine, if you know of any good ones, send them my way! (please) 

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                          ��                            ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan�� it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[touchmycoat]

Liufang headcanon: Bai Zhan senior disciples have to have experience with a FOD situation and dual cultivation before they can take solo missions, since there are so many FOD possibilities in their environs. So Qian Cao has a FOD garden for BZ disciples to get practical experience and for the QC disciples to practice their dual cultivation skills to cure them afterward.

wc: 920

"Peak Lord Linghu," Qian Cao Peak Lord Zhang Qiancan said loudly, throwing her arms up in exasperation, "will you please tell your disciple that this is not an obstacle course."

"No," Linghu Qianyan answered without her attention swaying once from the display mirrors. Mu Qingfang was quietly impressed by the complete lack of apology even while his Shizun rolled her eyes.

"He's destroying my garden.”

“Plant a new one.”

“Oh and you’ll pay for it?”

“Sure.”

The thing was, Shizun liked Peak Lord Linghu, and if Mu Qingfang were any less of a respectful student, he might even say that Shizun had a crush on Peak Lord Linghu. For all of Peak Lord Linghu’s deadpan and stony focus on her head disciple moving violently through the Wild Spring Garden, Peak Lord Zhang was thoroughly enjoying her attempts to get a reaction out of the Bai Zhan Peak Lord.

“Don’t forget, Peak Lord Linghu.” Uh-oh, Mu Qingfang definitely spotted that little peek at him. Shizun liked shoving him in the middle of every potentially difficult social situation; she said she was training his bedside temper. “This is also my head disciple’s qualifying exam. Your disciple is going to blast through the entire course, decimate my garden, and render my disciple unable to practice what he’s been training to do—”

“He won’t,” Mu Qingfang interjected quietly. Politely! Yet two pairs of eyes were on him instantly, his tiny statement more effective at getting Peak Lord Linghu’s attention than all of his Shizun’s prowling and (physical as well as verbal) jabbing.

Under the dual attentions of Cang Qiong Sect’s greatest healer and greatest killer, Mu Qingfang back instantly straightened, grip tightening infinitesimally on the bag of equipment at his shoulder.

“Oh? Xiao Fang has this in hand?” At least the sharp tease of Shizun’s challenge was familiar. Mu Qingfang gave a nod and a faint smile.

“I’ve had the honor of sharing some classes with Liu-shixiong back in the day, and so I...took a few infrastructural precautions in anticipation of his methods.”

Right on cue, Liu Qingge tripped the trap into the dead-end zone Mu Qingfang had prepared just for him. Mu Qingfang had even dipped into his personal gardens for some of the rarer specimens. They all watched as Liu Qingge got simultaneously pelted by spore clouds and pollen clouds, splashed with nectar and pheromones, lashed at by vines and spines, and jumped by several species of parasitic worms.

And Mu Qingfang almost laughed in awe when he nearly got back out of the dead zone without suffering any infestation or injury. Unfortunately, a thorn nicked an ankle on his way out, and Mu Qingfang immediately started counting down the time Liu Qingge had until the toxin got into his heart and core. He bowed, hefting the equipment bag once more.

“This disciple will be heading out.”

“Well done,” Peak Lord Linghu said, observing the set-up of the traps and approving of them with a single nod. Peak Lord Zhang slapped Mu Qingfang hard enough on the back to make him stumble.

“Well done indeed.” She meant it because now she got to flaunt her head disciple’s victory over Peak Lord Linghu, never mind that moments ago she’d been the one insisting that this exercise was not an obstacle course. “I’ll be waiting for your results.”

The mirror displays would go off as soon as Mu Qingfang entered the garden for privacy, but Peak Lord Zhang had already set up numerous ways for her to keep tabs on what was happening inside without visuals. While Mu Qingfang had gone above and beyond in setting up the garden like this, his actual exam started now, and with a nervous swallow, he nodded again.

In the relative privacy of the large leaves shielding the garden entrance, Peak Lord Zhang took Mu Qingfang by the shoulders and smirked.

“The dosage was good. Godspeed Xiao Fang, I hope that horrible little disciple of Shijie’s can appreciate all the care you’ve put into setting up his test.”

Mu Qingfang’s pulse sped slightly and he cleared his throat.

“As much care as any good healer should show a patient, surely.” It wasn’t beyond reason that Mu Qingfang painstakingly picked out most of the toxin-storing fruits on the thorny vine he’d planted, nor was it ridiculous that the amount of aphrodisiac he’d left in any singular vector of infection was calibrated to Liu Qingge’s precise physical makeup (something that took Mu Qingfang several all-nighters to perfect). Mu Qingfang was just that dedicated to being an ethical healer.

His Shizun looked his devotion to medical ethics in the eyes and snorted, arms dropping away.

“Yeah, extra credit for your sacrifice kid.”

Because at the end of the day, Mu Qingfang would now and forever (until the moment of his own ascension) be personal healer to Liu Qingge and all the rest of the Peak Lords, and healers could do whatever they want with patients provided it didn’t compromise the nature of the trust the patients were supposed to have in them.

“Thank you, Shizun.”

So Zhang Qiancan could flirt all she liked with Linghu Qianyan, but the day that Linghu Qianyan flirted back, according to her teachings, she would have to firmly and politely turn down the returned affection.

(Sometimes Mu Qingfang thought that was precisely why his Shizun was so attached to Peak Lord Linghu—because Linghu Qianyan would never actually like her back. It was the closest she could get to consistent romance with a trusted peer.)

“Now go do your job.”

Mu Qingfang bowed for a third time, proper and succinct.

“This disciple thanks Shizun for her teachings. I will endeavor to carry them forth in my practices.”