#please bear with me but i may reblog this later to just make sure people are able to see it

[junekissed]

library mischief

member — witch librarian!chan x gn reader genre — fluff, a twinge of humor, strangers to lovers, fantasy (?) word count — 2.6k warnings — reader commits crimes (not really i’m exaggerating), but a library is broken into, chan is a sweetheart, jeonghan makes a cameo and he’s causing trouble again notes — lowercase intended. if you liked this please reblog so i know this kind of writing is something people enjoy!

one reblog = one cup of chan's magic tea

"excuse me, do you have any nonfiction books on witches?”

having worked at the public library for almost eight years now, chan’s used to strange requests. he’s heard patrons ask for everything from bears to basilosaurus, from tutorials on exorcizing demons to how to use a smartphone for dummies. he’s seen it all.

it’s not the most odd request he’s been asked, especially considering the time of year. with halloween right around the corner, fact begins to seem like fiction, and myths and legends begin to seem like fact. 

“try the 100s and 200s sections,” he says, pointing towards a tall stack of bookshelves in the corner of the room. “133 for magic, 203 for spells, curses, and charms, 299 for religious witchcraft.”

you tug your book bag up your shoulder. “thanks,” you smile. 

he nods, and you start to leave, but something stops you. a gut feeling, some might call it, or maybe just curious intuition. “you seem to know a lot about witches,” you say, pausing.

he gives you a friendly smile. “i’m just a librarian,” he laughs. “it’s in the job title.”

you hesitate, considering. his answer must be good enough, because you turn to walk away. “thanks again,” you call quietly, so as to not disturb the other patrons.

having been a witch working at the public library for almost eight years now, chan’s mastered the art of hiding.

“are those in… latin?” chan asks when you plop down a tall stack of books at the checkout counter.

“yep! it’s for a– um, research project,” you say quickly, letting out a short laugh.

chan eyes you curiously, making a mental note to look into you later to make sure you aren’t digging where you shouldn’t be.

he pulls out a barcode scanner and one of his best smiles. “i didn’t even know we had books in latin,” he chuckles. lie. he knows every book in his library. and he’s read every single one.

you smile nervously, as if you’re guilty of something.

“what’s your research about?” he prods, carefully sliding each book in front of him.

“oh, just… history, for a project,” you say. chan doesn’t let it show, but he knows you’re lying. you couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.

he pauses, reading one of the titles. it’s a centuries old, leather-bound book he keeps locked up at all times. he puts it out on display in a glass case every october to give the seasonal section a little spooky look, but no one is allowed to touch it.

how did you even find this? only he has access to the key. it’s not to be taken out of the library; no matter what, this book cannot leave his sight.

he clears his throat, pushing the book aside. “sorry, i can’t let you check this one out. it’s not for public use.”

“oh.” you frown. “but it was in the 100s section? like you told me?”

chan clears his throat. “it must’ve been misplaced, then. it’s one of our books on display, it’s not usually out year-round.”

he’s gonna have to have a talk with the student volunteers again. this isn’t the first time things have been misplaced, but they should know better than to touch this book. his book.

“can i still read–”

“here’s your receipt,” he interrupts, voice still friendly as he sets the spellbook below the counter, out of reach and out of sight.

you open your mouth, about to protest, but you stop yourself. you may have lost this battle, but you’ll be back for it later, anyway. no use throwing a fuss about it now.

“thanks for visiting. come back soon,” chan says, slipping the receipt in between the pages of one of the books and handing it to you.

you take it from him and plaster a smile on your face, shoving the other books in your bag. “oh, i will!”

it’s the early hours of the night when you slip the copy of chan’s key into the door, twisting gently to avoid making noise.

he’s a good librarian and a nice guy, but not as careful as he thinks he is, you snicker. taking it off his keyring while he was getting an extra dictionary for you from the back room was easy.

you never stopped to consider if maybe it was a little too easy.

the lights flare on and you startle, eyes wide like a child with their hands in places they shouldn’t be. the guilt across your face is evident, and in that moment chan pities you. whatever the reason you felt the need to break into the library at 2am to steal an old book, you must be desperate. for what, he didn’t know.

“when i said to come back soon, i didn’t mean after hours,” chan laughs. “we’re closed.”

“i… i…” you stutter, struggling to find an excuse why you’re rifling through books in the middle of the night.

“you should be glad i’m not calling the police right now.”

“i need that book!” you burst out.

“why?”

“it’s… i know what it is. i know you need it to break curses. i know it’s not just a book.”

chan pauses. “what makes you think it really works?”

“because i’ve done my research. i know magic isn’t just fiction.” there’s a passion in your eyes, a desperation he hasn’t seen in decades.

“and so you thought you could just– steal it?”

you sigh, defeated. “i was gonna bring it back. i… i need it. you wouldn’t understand.”

chan folds his arms over his chest. “what i understand is that i could have you arrested right now for attempted theft and breaking and entering. so you can either tell me or tell it to the police. why do you need this book so bad?”

you stare down at your feet, avoiding his gaze. “you’re gonna think i’m crazy, but… i have to break a curse.”

“what kind of curse?”

your eyes shoot up. “you don’t think i’m crazy?”

“what kind of curse?” chan repeats.

“it’s for my friend,” you start, quickly trying to explain the story. “she got this tattoo, and i guess it was supposed be a symbol for good luck but then all these things started happening to them, their cat went missing and she started having these nightmares.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “of course it’s jeonghan again. i told him to stop doing shit like that.”

you wrinkle your eyebrows. “hey, i never told you his name–”

“i’ll help you,” chan interrupts.

“you will?” you gasp, but your excitement quickly wears off. “wait, but what could you do to help? i mean, no offense, but you’re just a librarian–”

he snorts. “i’m not just a librarian. and trust me, even the normal librarians know a lot more than you think. don’t underestimate us.”

you study him carefully. “what do you mean, ‘normal librarians’?”

“the book you keep trying to steal is mine. my personal spellbook.”

your jaw falls open. “so you’re a…”

“witch? yes. i’ll help you break this curse but i’d appreciate it if you’d stop prying after this.”

“why do you put it on display then, if it’s so important?” you ask.

chan sighs. “because the kids like to look at it. it’s just decoration to them, nobody knows it’s a real book.”

he starts towards the entrance, flicking the lights back off and holding open the door for you. “now come on, i’ll drive you over to my house and we’ll finish this.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “how do i know you won’t murder me or something?”

he rolls his eyes. “who knows, maybe i will. i’m not gonna force you. up to you if you want this curse gone or not.”

you grab your bag and scramble out the door after him. “i’ll take my chances. so, where do you live?”

chan’s car rolls up the driveway, parking neatly in line with rows of cherry blossom trees.

“for a witch, your house looks… normal,” you say, staring up at the basic brown exterior.

“what, you think i live in a castle and stir cauldrons all day? i’m a normal guy, just with magic,” he says, breaking into a wide smile when you start to laugh.

he opens the door and you peek inside.

whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. the inside of his house is… cozy, like stepping into a magical place. which, when you think about it, you suppose you are.

“take a seat,” chan says, pointing at a small couch with a table.

instead of lamps, little lights float around the room, making the house seem to glow with soft warm light. you sit carefully, eyes gleaming as you look around in wonder.

the house is warm, a welcome contrast from the harsh night winds outside, and you tug your scarf from around your neck.

as if he’s reading your mind, he says suddenly, “do you want tea or coffee or something? it’s cold out tonight.” you already feel the temperature in the house start to increase as if by magic, whether his doing or something else.

“tea would be nice,” you admit, sinking back into the plush seat.

“any particular kind?” he asks.

“black is fine,” you reply.

he disappears around the corner and returns mere seconds later, a steaming mug in his hands.

you take it from him gratefully, but pause, thinking. “you didn’t put anything in this, right? you’re not gonna put a spell on me?”

he looks almost offended. “if i wanted to, i would’ve by now,” he laughs. “the only thing in there is tea and hot water and a little honey. besides, i’m not that kind of witch. i help people, i don’t curse them.”

you nod, deciding to trust him, and pull the cup to your lips, feeling the hot steam warm your frosty cheeks.

“so who’s jeonghan? i mean, i know who he is, but how do you know him?”

chan takes a seat across from you, setting his book on the table. “he’s not a witch, he’s just a demon that likes to cause trouble. he acts up every few hundred years, usually around hallow’s eve. sorry about your friend.”

you set your mug down, at the opposite table so it doesn’t spill. you don’t know how magic spellbooks work, but you don’t want to risk ruining it if you knock over your drink. “you can fix it, right?”

“mm, sort of,” chan says. he opens the book, turning yellowed pages with delicate fingers. you admire his care for the paper, watching his precise focus. maybe it’s a witch thing, maybe it’s a librarian thing. “i can make a talisman for your friend that’ll remove the curse from their tattoo. but it won’t stop him from doing it again to someone else. my magic isn’t that powerful.”

“oh, okay,” you say. “thank you for helping, anyway.”

“it’s what i do,” he smiles.

“but you didn’t have to help me. i was stealing from you. you could’ve had me arrested.”

“i know.”

you pause. “so why didn’t you?”

he sighs, eyes flitting over the open pages. “you seemed like a good person in a bad situation. you were trying to help a friend in need. so now i’m helping you.”

you reach over for your mug. “thank you,” you say again.

he glances up at you, catching your eye. his eyes are kind, and you start to wonder about what he’s like: not the witch part of him, but the man part. the friendly librarian that helps everyone and puts his own personal books on display because it makes the kids happy. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s the type of guy to bring home to meet your parents, or even–

“here you go,” he says, breaking your trance.

you snap back to the scene in front of you. “huh?”

he drops a small crystal necklace in your hands, perfectly round and smooth. “here you go,” he says again.

“you’re done already?” you ask incredulously.

he looks away, and you swear you see a pink blush start to creep into his cheeks. “yeah. i mean, it’s not too difficult.”

“oh,” you say. you thought it would take longer. “sorry i missed it, i zoned out.”

“‘s alright,” he says, gently shutting the book. he stands up, and you scramble to stand with him, not wanting to stay if you’re no longer welcome. you grab your scarf from the couch, praying he can’t actually read minds and just heard your inner monologue about him.

he stands in front of the door, but doesn’t open it. he seems reluctant, but you can’t imagine why.

“so, uh… let me know how it works with your friend,” he says finally.

“i will,” you rush to say. you’d hoped you’d be able to see him again, but you weren’t sure you’d be welcome after trying to steal something so important to him.

he clears his throat, suddenly remembering something. “oh! sorry, do you need a ride home? i should’ve asked,” he says, the tips of his ears beginning to turn red.

“no, i’m… there’s a bus stop near here, my apartment isn’t too far away,” you laugh awkwardly. “plus, my roommate would ask too many questions if a guy dropped me off at almost three in the morning.”

the house goes quiet, and your face grows hot when you realize what you’ve just implied. “no, not that you– i mean, i don’t–”

“it’s fine, i get it,” he laughs. his laugh is comforting, and it feels like everything’s going to be okay.

“okay,” you whisper. you twist your scarf in your hands, not knowing what else to say.

“you can come see me at the library whenever,” he says shyly. “i’m there every night til 8.”

“i’ll do that,” you say, and you mean it. “i would like to see you again. hopefully not like this, though,” you giggle.

“so… i’ll see you later, maybe?” he says, his eyes hopeful as he opens the door for you.

“i’ll see you later,” you say assuredly.

three weeks later

“hey, chan!” you call, a stack of books under your arm.

he looks up from his computer and grins. “hey! we’re still on for tonight, right?”

“yup! i can’t wait for dinner, i’ve heard this place is really good,” you smile. you drop your last few days of reading material on the desk, and he watches you fondly as he starts checking them back in. “i found some books online i wanna show you, but honestly, you’ve probably read them already.”

he laughs. one thing you’ve learned over many, many library visits the past few weeks is that you love making him laugh.

“i’d love to hear all about it. i’m still picking you up after work?”

“mhm. my roommate said to tell you hi and sorry she won’t get to see you tonight, she’s got a cold.”

he smiles. “i’ll make some stuff to bring over for her.”

you lean across the counter to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “i’m just dropping these off, i’ve gotta run. i’ll see you later?”

“i’ll see you later,” he confirms.

having been a witch working at the public library for almost eight years now, chan had never met anyone like you, and especially not in the way he met you. but he’s glad he did.

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

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[bihansthot]

I’m actually being productive and writing one of the Kuai Liang requests I have. Grandmaster Blueberry Ice fans rejoice! This is the first Kuai Liang thing I’ve written in over two years? Hopefully it’s ok, I don’t know how long it will be because it’s a topic I don’t know a lot about and sometimes makes me a little uncomfortable but I’m trying my best to write out of my comfort zone and challenge myself a bit. Also going forward if people have questions regarding Kuai Liang please specify the timeline, Liang being Scorpion in MK1 is all sorts of confusing but I wanna make sure I’m answering questions for the right Kuai Liang. As far as requests go the ones I’ve received were from before this was revealed so I assume they’re for Tundra/Sub-Zero and I’m writing them as such. I MAY open requests up if I ever clear my writing queue out big MAY there, I will do all Lin Kuei, yup I said all Lin Kuei, and most likely Reiko, Rain and Reptile but it won’t be until I get things out of the way, and probably write some self ship and OC stuff first. I’m also planning on writing a piece for @bitomas-week but that’s a ways off so I don’t think I have to worry about that yet. Shockingly though I like Bi-Han and Tomas together, I can share my Polar Bear, I’ve got no issues with that though I’d rather them share me haha I know I have no chill. If I do open requests please keep in mind I am a smut writer primarily and default to afab reader, if you want something else just ask, I’m happy to accommodate. If I go back to doing requests I will specify what I will and won’t do in a separate post. So, yeah just a little update on things, sooner or later I will go through my inbox and requests and stuff and make a proper update on what I’m supposed to write to keep myself organized but today is not that day. 🤣 I also try and usually keep my reblogs to just Bi-Han related things but I also want to help get my moots/friends/beloveds stuff seen so I will probably be reblogging non Bi-Han related things too because sharing is caring and exposure is so important for writers and artists. If you ever want me to reblog something just tag me in it and I will be happy to. 💕

Also as always questions are always open whether they’re Lin Kuei related, OC related, self ship related, general questions, health stuff it doesn’t matter you can always ask me anything. Head canons are also always open as I love to ramble about Bi-Han and the other Lin Kuei. My DMs are also open so don’t be shy, also don’t be upset if I take a little bit to reply though I am super easily distracted and will think I replied and realize three days later I never sent it.

Ok that wraps up this little update I think though so back to Blueberry Ice I go! Hope you Kuai Liang fans will enjoy it! 💙❄️

[artsykidwolf-2000]

Last Pegasus Prologue

Hello, Author Kat/Lime here! Thanks for taking the time to read my original story prologue. I know it's not much but there's more to come and I hope to get amazing feedback for the chapters to come.

This story means a lot to me so I hope you all like it too and stick around for hopefully a regular update schedule or something.

Anyways enjoy the Prologue of the LAST PEGASUS SERIES!

please don't steal my original work (repost/reblog with permission)(i am new to the Tumblr train so bear with me)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Do you ever wonder about the legends and mysterious magic of the world? The tales passed throughout the ages of heroes, trivial wonders and dangerous battles won and lost. They may all sound the same but the ones that have truths are the legends of the Guardians. The mighty heroes, with strengths and wisdom, passed from master to pupil, all fought to dispel the darkness. They were first formed by the great First King of our great lands when he rose to the position to follow in his mother’s footsteps. Alongside his friends and fellow guardians, they fought for balance in their lands and for justice for the people.

United as one under the Age of Guardians, the Kingdoms of Gemina thrived with help of one another. Each of the chosen Guardians, one from each kingdom, was given a title and a powerful artifact. The Crystals of each passed down through the ages grew stronger and stronger with each generation of guardians to come. Reflecting the nature of their people the titles of each of the Guardians became more prominent.

The Amber of Bravery for the stout and resourceful race of the Scavens whose craftiness in both blacksmithing and in battle has given them great feats of courage. Protected by the Guardian of Bravery and the wise and old Modig the Golden Gryffin in the highest peaks of Scavaheim.

The Sapphire of Protection bestowed upon the successful and artistic nature of the Atalantians for their feats in battle and for making sure everyone is looked after. The Guardian of Protection and The Siren Mother, Cordelia, guard the crystal under the gentle waves of the southern sea.

The Ruby of Power was given to the Drakens of the fiery forge of Mt. Furor to reflect the bodies and will of the people and dragons that inhabit the land, sky, and sea. The Guardian of Power and the mighty Elder Dragon Zergos keep it hidden within the great volcano.

The Emerald of Knowledge was given to the Al’bions for their cunning and extensive wisdom of the world around them and great magical abilities. The Guardian of Knowledge and the Great Sorceress, Pharos the Phoenix, sealed it within the mystical forest they call home.

Finally, the Amethyst of Freedom was given to the Yoitzan Royal Family, passed down from the First King to a worthy descendant, generation after generation, and the Oasis protects the crystal and gives life to all the lands. The Guardian of Freedom was dubbed “The Pegasus” as a symbol of freedom and to protect all you stand with them.

“Just like Uncle Laurence!” A little blonde girl shouted out to her mother in happiness, “And one day I’ll be just like him, right Mama?”

“Yes, you will my little Dove.” The mother smiled cheerfully as she gave a kiss on her head. “When you take your rightful place as the Pegasus I’m sure Laurence will be beaming stars from his happy face”

“I hope to see that too, Mama” The little girl smiled.

“Tomorrow is a new day, let's prove him right” The mother smiles then turns off the light, kissing her daughter’s head goodnight.

“Good night my little Dove”

“Goodnight Mama,” she smiled as her mother closed the door.

After a few moments pass, The little girl shifts in her bed and holds her purple crystal out. It glows softly as she regales memories. The words and stories of the voices heard one by one made her imagination run wild. Ones to make your heart soar.

{not my picture, found it on google}

{will make a better title cover later}

[kollapsar]

Patreon Interest Check!

Morning! I figured I would put out some ideas and thoughts on a Patreon Discord server setup. It’ll really help me to know what you guys would like if I went forward with something like that so I could structure the server accordingly, so here’s some ideas I have to start and we can pile thoughts on:

Very, very simple tier structure. Probably just, like, $2-$3 a month to have access to the server. Higher benefits pending, but would probably be along the lines of a bust portrait raffle or paintover/redlining for your art if you wanted that.

Separate channels for the following: WIPs, finished sketches, high resolution paintings, NSFW work.

18+ only. I’m keeping that one as a hard line.

Screensharing in a call/access to a livestream when I paint? I usually just sit around working for a while in the morning and early afternoon every day so that may be neat to do.

Sped up painting process videos as well as progress shots?

Questions and feedback channel. General art share channel for other people to share their art because I just think that’s dope. I don’t just want this server to be a showcase as much as a genuine resource and place where you can also share and discuss art.

Art links, resources and notes channel that I would just semi-regularly update with general art notes and learnings. Think along the lines of this post, studies, etc.

I had a Patreon before and genuinely struggled with maintaining it and using the posting format Patreon worked with. That may be different now, but I gotta say I’m much more comfortable with Discord and using that as a feed of my art, sketches and interactions instead. I also much prefer the ability to actually talk to and interact with patrons if they wish to reach out, just because then I know if I’m doing things right or could improve. That said, if there’s somehow some other way to structure things that I may be missing, I’m open to hear about it.

Content wouldn’t be scheduled but posted as it comes out. I think that’d be easier on me than trying to put up huge batches every two weeks and organizing things, put you’d get a near-constant flow of whatever the heck I’m doing that day. (I literally draw 5-6 days a week so unless a major life change happens, I’ll be putting stuff up fairly frequently.)

Please feel free to plug, like to give general interest, or reply for other things you may be interested in that I may have missed.

Thanks in advance! Really excited to see if this is something I could viably set up for ya’ll.

[wri0thesley]

I propose slow loving sex with Gojo thank u for ur time

propose and you may receive

prince charming - gojo x reader (2.5k)

[comments and reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist] 

warnings: afab reader, no pronouns. not sfw. minors dni! light fingering, piv sex, coming inside, soft. . . soft . . .

Most people who know Satoru Gojo would tell you that the man has two modes. Two ways of being. There is the way that he is from day to day; the laugh, the shovelling of sweets into his mouth, the constant stream of upbeat nonsense and jokes that few people are able to keep a proper track of. This is the Satoru Gojo he is with his students, you think – when the weight of being the strongest does not weigh so heavy on his shoulders.

Then, there is the Satoru Gojo in battle. There is the lift of his blindfold, the way that his blue eyes bore into his enemies – the self-assured way of talking, the ruthless precision with which he deploys his skills. This is the Satoru Gojo that does bear the weight of all of his strength; but his lips still quirk at the corners, he still cracks a joke sometimes though his tone is steely. They have shades of one another, those two personalities - but still, they are the two personalities that he chooses to show the world.

You, however, are permitted to see a different side than most people do.

You see Gojo now, with his body over yours, his soft lips brushing your jawline. You see him with his big hands, cupping your face so he has more access to your neck and your ear, the kisses coming slow and soft and relaxed. He is a large man, despite the fact that he is tall, lithe muscle as opposed to pure brawn – he cages you beneath him like he never wants you to be able to escape him.

You do not want to escape him. Not least when you finally manage to capture those lips in your own and you taste sugar on his tongue. As his teeth nip gently at your lower lip and a breathy sigh is transferred into his mouth; as his long fingers run down your body, appreciating you with a soft hum.

“I’d ask what I did to get so lucky,” he murmurs, voice low and throaty, “but I think I deserve you.”

Some things do not change; Gojo’s arrogance is always there, beneath the surface. He is lucky you find his self-confidence charming, your lips sliding into a smile as your own hands gently push up the shirt he’s wearing. His skin is warm and soft beneath it (you dread to think how expensive it was; Gojo spends money like it’s going out of style, and you have a myriad of gifts to prove it).

“You don’t shut up, do you?” You ask him, mildly, your smile not leaving your face. He laughs softly, and it feels like wind blowing through a field of flowers.

“You love me for it,” he says, all fondness, and he’s right. His shirt is parted from his top half and you admire him; unmarked skin (you suppose his technique means he’s free from the scars so many other jujutsu sorcerers learn to live with), the lean but taut muscles of his abdomen and shoulders. You run your fingers over him and he sighs, leaning into your touch like a cat. Your thumb brushes the hollow of his throat as you take a handful of his pale hair and drag him down into another kiss.

If nothing else, it occupies his mouth.

You can feel his hardness straining in his ripped jeans (pre-ripped for his convenience, with an eye-watering price tag, but even you have to admit that they make his ass look rounder and cling to his thighs and crotch in a way that makes you needy and heated if you stare for too long) as he moves his body against you, half-grinding.

You’re on the couch. You really should move to the bed – heaven knows Gojo’s is big enough for both of you – but there’s something domestic and sweet about Gojo kissing you here, amongst the remains of the sweets he’d been feeding you and with a romantic comedy neither of you are watching any more playing on the screen.

It’s so easy to feel like everything with Gojo is a life-or-death situation – to ascribe more meaning to a brush of his fingers on your shoulder or a murmur of ‘I’ll be home later tonight’ than you really need to.

This, though - this is simple, and easy. It lets you forget the world outside, just for the moments in which Gojo’s body is pressed against yours – lets you think of yourself as a normal couple.

There is nothing more romantic to you than the thought of you and Gojo being able to be just anybody.

So you spread your legs further apart so he can settle between them, sighing as his mouth moves from your own to brush kisses over your cheeks and the bridge of your nose instead.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he tells you, as he pulls back and tugs on your own shirt – you allow it to be removed, thrown onto the ground where you may never see it again. Much more interesting than the lost shirt are Gojo’s hands, large and warm, sliding up the expanse of your stomach and to your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. He undoes the catch of your bra as if the motion is as easy as breathing – and maybe to him, it is. Upon your flesh being newly bared, he sighs, leaning down to kiss the swell of the curve. To find your nipple with the warmth of his tongue and tease it to hardness as he flattens his tongue against it and laps at you, the motion sending little electric shocks of pleasure to the place between your thighs. You sigh and squirm, and he gives the hardened bud a gentle graze of his teeth as he pulls back to look at you.

The sight of his blue eyes concentrated wholly on you and all of the distilled starshine contained within always makes you lose your senses for a moment. It should be unfair, you think, for him to look like that. For those wide blue eyes to seem so innocent when you know that he is not--

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you. You know that he’s telling you the truth; Gojo is not the kind to mince his words. His hands rest on your waist, curving down over your hips to tug at your bottoms and make short work of those too. You lift yourself slightly to allow it, Gojo wriggling so that he can get them off without ever having to really move from between your legs. The bottoms go the same way as your shirt, and you are below him now in nothing but your underwear--

Though that’s barely covering anything. Gojo sighs to see the pale white of the piece you’re wearing has gone translucent from the gush of your slick, clinging to the outline of your folds and showing him just how needy the kissing and the touching and the groping has gotten. He trails a finger down and brushes your mound through the fabric, ghosting over your clit.

“This is for me, doll?” He asks you, a smirk on his face that you want to kiss off.

“You know it is,” you breathe, lifting your hips – and the smirk softens into a smile.

“Maybe I like hearing you say it,” he murmurs, increasing the pressure of his touch so he is rubbing you through the cotton; his big fingers pressing against your clit, making your hips jerk. You don’t know if you want to jerk away from the sensation of the fabric pressing against your swollen nub, or jerk into the pressure that you want so badly – so you settle for circling your hips, panting soft little noises.

Gojo smiles at you and the expression on his face is dazzling. Your heart skips a beat; he’s so beautiful. You’re so unbelievably, amazingly lucky--

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, leaning and kissing your cheek, burying his face in the crook of your neck to kiss and lick and suck at the skin there. Your back arches as his attentions send yet more shivers down your spine, set you aflame even further. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear his face was warm – is he blushing? “If you could see yourself, you’d understand--”

“If you could see yourself,” you tell him, through the pounding need in your chest, “you’d understand exactly why I’m looking at you like that--”

“Oh, I know,” he preens, though his face is still warm. He hooks his fingers into the wet underwear and pulls them over your thighs. “I know why you’re looking at me like that! I’m gorgeous-- but . . .” He seems to stumble over his words before he manages to get a good hold on them again, before he pulls back and the flush on his cheeks is only barely there. “You don’t know how gorgeous you are, and . . .” He places a hand to his chest. Your underwear is dangling from his thumb, though you’re not entirely sure how he fully tangled you out of him in the position the two of you are still in. “It breaks my heart!”

You smile despite yourself.

“You’re being too romantic,” you tell him, though your insides are secretly all aflame and bubbling. “It’s not like you.”

“I’m wounded,” he says. One hand lands on your thigh, drawing circles and patterns on the slick skin – his middle finger gently nudges the very outside of your sex, teasing the puffy lips apart so he can brush your clit. Your gasp dies in your throat. “I’ll have you know I’m an absolute Prince Charming, baby--”

And he’s giving you that charming smile, even as that same finger presses deep inside you in one swift movement and your knuckles clench on the couch cushion. You groan aloud, lifting your hips to allow him deeper, to make you feel fuller--

Your eyelashes flutter, eyelids somewhere between open and closed, but you still see that Gojo’s own gaze is fixed on you. It’s tender. Loving. You feel strangely exposed beneath it – but at the same time, you feel warm and comfortable and right as he adds another finger and stretches you out on it, scissoring them apart. He brushes the spongy spot of your walls that always hits different and you sigh, murmuring out his name--

“Satoru,” you’re practically whining. “Satoru, faster, please—”

“Prince Satoru,” he corrects you, with a grin that’s slightly crooked to one side and more charming than it has any right to be. He pumps his fingers in and out of you a few more times, until they are thoroughly coated in your wetness, until the fire inside you has been suitably kindled and your breath is uneven and your face is hot – and then he pulls them out.

You don’t have time to whine.

Not with the sound of his zipper, the sound of him kicking off his expensive jeans – the heat of him settling over you on his knees and taking your hips to slide you easily onto his cock.

He groans out your name like it’s all he ever wants to say.

“You feel like you were made for me,” he says, and you reach up and grab a handful of his hair again. He lets it be pulled with only the softest sigh – lets you bend him over you so the two of you are cheek to cheek, chest to chest, so close that you can feel his heart beating. “Fuck, doll--”

He’s right. He fits inside of you like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle; warm and tight and perfect.

It’s a triumph, for Satoru Gojo to be lost for words – but he stops speaking as he fucks you slow and soft. It’s not that you and he only usually fuck hard and rough – but his job is stressful, and he is teasing and smug, and it’s more usual for you to be bent over on his bed as he pulls your hair and runs his mouth than it is for anything like this to happen.

He doesn’t seem to have any complaints about it, though – and neither do you. How can you complain when he holds you so gently? When he kisses you like he’s savouring the taste of you instead of devouring you?

He’s not speaking, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t noisy – he’s panting, groaning, moaning. He’s always loud in bed – he has almost no self-control when it comes to pleasure, you don’t think – but the noises also go right through you in only the best of ways, making you shiver and shudder. It’s unfair that his voice should sound so good. It’s unfair that he should have almost no flaws--

Some people might say his personality is a flaw, you suppose, but you unfortunately find him charming.

You wrap your legs about his waist and his cock hits deeper, brushes that same spot inside of you – but you find you do not care so much about the orgasm as you care about having Gojo in this embrace.

Not caring about it, though, doesn’t mean that is not going to happen – not with the slow thrusts of his hips, or with the sight of him with his lip bitten and his hair all mussed up from your tangling.

You’re not sure if Gojo has ever found something that he isn’t good at, and fucking you is no exception. His cock hits every spot inside of you and seems to find new nerves you didn’t know would feel so good when stimulated; your entire abdomen (hell, your entire body) feels like it’s on fire. You were slick enough before he’d entered you, but now you can feel your own arousal pooling on the couch cushions beneath you – you can hear how wet Gojo’s cock must be, on the push-pull of him fucking into you. The glide is slick and silky and searing, and your fingers flex on his back, as the tight string inside of you readies to snap.

“Sat-- I’m-- ‘m gonna--”

Your words are lost to the feel of him, to the haze that seems to descend around you whenever you and Gojo are together. You see the curve of his smile, hear him softly whisper;

“S’alright, baby--”

A stroke of his hips that has the flat plane of his pelvis pressing against your clit and you let yourself go, tumbling into the bright lights of your oblivion, your thighs tightening reflexively about him as if you want him to drown inside of you. Gojo sighs, groans, moans out your name as your cunt milks him for all he is worth, squeezing around him – and, he, too, lets go. Heat. Warmth. Gojo’s cock, twitching, heavy and perfect and right inside of you.

“I love you,” you whisper, against his collarbone, in time with the beating of his heart – and Gojo looks at you as his hips continue to roll slow and leisurely, eking out the final drops of his release as it settles inside of you like a claim, and he smiles slow and soft like honey or syrup.

“I know,” he says, quietly. “I love you too.”

He stays inside of you, on top of you, in the embrace, even as his cock begins to soften. Enjoying your warmth, your presence, your closeness.

Maybe he is a Prince Charming.

You’re not going to say that aloud to him, though.

He’d never let it go.

[blueprint-han]

[Image ID: A black picture with the title “HOW TO SUPPORT FANFICTION AUTHORS” written in bold caps lock, colored with a winter forest picture. End ID.]

Well, this post has been made countless times, but I’m making one too because I’ve seen a lot of people say they’re new to tumblr and don’t know the whole “reblogging is better than liking” rule and other stuff. So without any further ado, here are ways YOU can support the fanfiction authors. Now keep in mind this applies to almost every author out there, not just the stayblr fandom, so if you’re a silent reader (or even if you aren’t), I advise you go through this post. Warning, this is a fairly long post going into detail, so yeah. I still expect you, the readers to read this, and if you’re a writer, feel free to lmk if i’ve written smth wrong or if you want me to add something! ^^

In this post I’ll go into thorough analysis of the pros and cons of each of the methods listed here and how YOU as a reader can show the authors whose fics you read more love and motivate them to produce content.

WARNING; LONG POST! GOES INTO A DECENT AMOUNT OF DETAIL. NOT EDITED, EXCUSE ANY TYPOS.

#1 : LIKING !

I think this is basic common knowledge, and a lot of people tend to do this. When you like the post, the author sees it, you see it, and if the author has their liked posts accessible (which majority of the time they don’t), and if someone deliberately goes to check it, then they see it. See why so many authors say just liking does nothing? Only liking says “Hey, I’m gonna tell you your story is not that good by simply liking it and not sharing it with other people. :D”

♯ PROS:

You’re telling the author that you've read their fic, and either you’ve enjoyed it to a certain extent, or you’re just saving it to read for later.

Likes are seen by you, the author and anyone who has access to your likes (which, most people don’t).

♯ CONS:

If you ONLY like, you’re not really helping the author’s work reach a wide audience because this site isn’t Instagram. Reblogging is the only way people can SEE our works. I’ll cover more on that in the next section.

In a nutshell, liking is good! But you should most likely use it in a combination with the other stuff I’ve listed below, because just the like itself doesn’t really do much in giving the author any feedback or interaction on their fics.

To clear shit up; I’m not talking about those people who don’t read the story or appreciate it in the first place. I’m talking about those who appreciate the fic, like it, but don’t leave any sort of feedback to show that.

#2 : REBLOGGING !

This is SO, SO important. I cannot stress on this enough. Let me explain WHY so many writers stress on reblogging content: 

Tumblr’s tag system is inherently fucked up, and has grown more so over the year. I’m not kidding, at first, the fic either used to show up in the tags or it didn’t, but now, sometimes your fic can be REMOVED from the tags because of,,, idk tumblr tag shit. Anyways, as you can see, it’s very demotivating for authors at that point, because the major way for people to find their content and expand their blogs has been blocked.  

Due to this reason, tumblr authors need to RELY on you, their followers to help spread their works to a wider audience. Now again, before you get me wrong, I’m not saying you ae forced to rb our works regardless of whether you like them or not. BUT, that being said, if you DO infact like the story, there’s no harm in reblogging, right? By doing this you’re indirectly telling the author — “hey! :D I liked your fic! Which is why I am gonna share it to my followers so they can read it too :D” Trust me, you’re doing nothing but helping the people who produce content for you to read. Seems like a worthy cause to hit the reblog button, right? It’s only a one, or maximum two step procedure.

Leave tags in your reblogs! Trust me, as an author myself and as much as I know from all my author friends, we oft check the tags of your reblogs to see if you found any part amazing or even if you have anything to say about the writing we put so much hard work into. Even a key smash or a “This was so [insert adjective] 🥺” is enough to leave a smile on your authors face. 

♯ PROS :

You’re !! Sharing !! Your authors !! Works !! This leads to them getting more recognition, so for the content they’re so graciously providing for free, you’re promoting their blog and helping them expand it.

If the tags are being a shit, which majority of the time they are, then you’re literally making an author’s day by reblogging! You’re showing them that you, a follower and appreciator of their works are willingly sharing their content because it deserves to be seen by more people. Again before any dumb people decide to attack me, i am talking about people who like the fic but don't bother reblogging and are silent/ghost readers. I am not forcing anyone to read anybody’s work.

YOU’RE MAKING YOUR AUTHOR SO HAPPY WHAT MORE REASONS COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT !! 🥺

♯ CONS :

Literally none, because as far as I remember no author is against reblogging of their works. It’s quite literally the way this platform functions. Reblogging is IMPORTANT.

#3 : COMMENTING/SENDING FEEDBACK !

This kind of overlaps with the previous section, but THIS IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT STEP !! When you leave feedback, you are directly giving the author something so much more valuable to them than high follower/note counts or money. Your feedback is literally our serotonin. I kid you not the number of times I’ve received a positive comment and smiled and it has made my day. There’s a reason youtubers (though not the best example, bear with me here because it was the only one I could think of) ask people to subscribe, like and COMMENT. The subscription is like a follow, the like is ofc like a heart, and the comment is equivalent to an rb with comments in the tags. 

You might argue and tell me that a comment is basically like an ask so the reblogging step isn’t necessary, but I’m sure 99% of you use YouTube and you know that more comments leads to people’s videos boosted in the stream/trending charts. This is what reblogging does. Reblogging shares the piece with other people like minded, which leads to a boost in reads. You are literally helping your author grow.

It’s quite literally the same thing as youtubers. Youtubers NEED validation to keep their content creation going, so do writers, so do other ccs on this site. This post is however, focused on WRITERS, so keep that in mind.

♯ PROS :

By doing this, you’re giving author valuable feedback! It’s similar to what you do in rbing with tags. Interactivity with their fics boosts their note counts and helps expand their audience, so srsly, now think of it: your one comment is playing such a massive role to help ccs create more content.

Imagine how much of a difference the note counts will be in when every person who simply likes after reading the fic, reblogs, leaves a comment and sends an ask. the note counts would be high on each and every fic, which is validation in itself, but your comments would inspire the writer so much more! Please, don’t skip the commenting part. Even a simple one like: “this is so cute!” is wonderful. 

♯ CONS :

Remember, if you’re gonna give constructive criticism (which I’m sure you all are smart enough to know if different from hate), make sure the author is okay with it. Authors need to be in a specific mindset and must be ready to accept criticism, so if you’re gonna give constructive criticism to them when they’re at a low point, it may demotivate them.

Just commenting, instead of reblogging and commenting in the tags/ reblogging and then leaving an ask in their inbox, while it gives validation in plenty, will not lead to the author’s work being spread. Therefore I suggest either reblogging and commenting in the tags or reblog and then leave an ask, or comment under the fic!

!! reminder; I am not saying that if you don’t rb and just leave feedback, your feedback has no value. We authors truly appreciate every bit of feedback, but this post is aimed to help you learn how to interact with and support authors, and make them feel more motivated, because the current scenario of liking and scrolling is taking a toll on their creative abilities. Take it from a person who’s been writing for a year.

#4 : COMMSIONING VIA THEIR KO-FI/OTHER APPS !

Before any of you attack me, let me tell you that this is not a step that is 100% necessary to do. ONLY donate if you can and if you genuinely want to, and if anyone is forcing you to pay for something against your will, you need to get yourself out of there.

Regardless, if an author has a kofi and you’re able to and you want to donate, you definitely should! It’s also a valid form of support.

#5 : ADDING THEM ON REC LISTS/ RECOMMENDING THEM TO REC BLOGS

This is such an underrated option, to be honest. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen my fic was recommended onto some rec list and it’s made me smile so hard. If you like some fics, create a rec list! They’re oft very popular amongst the fans too. Making rec posts is such a great way to share your favorite stories with others. 

Rec blogs! I’ve seen a couple going around, and needless to say they are a great way to get someone else to read your favorite author’s work whilst also giving them your own feedback. These blogs oft accept recs via a form or ask box, and they leave your feedback along with their own, or else they’ll oft tag the author in the feedback post, so look! You’re basically helping your author share their fic to many more people, because you’ve given them feedback and a reblog.

♯ PROS :

Validation! Feedback! Reblogs! More exposure! Helping a blog grow! Spreading love! basically a run down of the stuff I’ve said before!

♯ CONS :

Literally no con of this. Unless, a one in a million case, this author says they don’t like receiving feedback/being tagged, and I’m sure NO person has said this before, at least none that I’ve heard of.

#6 : FINAL COMMENTS; MISC !

When an author points out about how the interactivity is drastically reducing, don’t just give them blind apologies. Yes, you feel sorry for not interacting as much, we understand, but rather show that you’ll become a better content consumer through your actions. We need to see that we’re not just throwing words into a void and that people are actually trying to be better content consumers. 

Understand the fact that authors don’t get paid for this, and 99% of the time, these authors don’t take commissions either. They’re giving you novel worthy writings for free. Take Percy Jackson: You think the author would have felt motivated to write the subsequent parts, let alone two whole series based off of it if literally no one showed that they were interested? Rick Riordan has sales, he is being paid, there are millions of people and big agencies who provide him feedback. Now take that huge amount and simmer it down to an audience of maybe 10000 people This is what fanfic authors want. They don’t want your money, nor are they telling you to risk your lives for them. All they want is, a reblog, some tags, some feedback, some INTERACTIVITY.  A sign that they aren’t throwing fics into the void and that people actually like them, some motivation to continue. Seems fairly easy to throw an rb with some tags, right?

Don’t bother to tell me that we do this for ourselves and we shouldn’t ask for likes and reblogs and feedback, because 1) you are consuming the content that we “write for ourselves” and 2) writers post their content here for interactivity and feedback. We could just not post and write and save our fics in our dungeon drafts for years. But we choose to post to entertain the readers, the consumers. And we aren’t even asking that much in return.

Don’t give me the whole “I’m scared that authors feel that comments are annoying” excuse either because seriously this has been DEBUNKED SO MANY TIMES. Istg, in the nicest way possible, if you still think writers are annoyed by interaction and feedback, after so many posts, long rants have been posted as to how we’re not, then you must truly be living under a rock. There, I said it. Please stop thinking this way, I’ll say it again, AUTHORS ARE NOT ANNOYED OF FEEDBACK, COMMENTS, TAGS, REBLOGS. WE LOVE IT. Saying this is like saying that the audience in a theatre play shouldn’t clap when the play ends because the actors would find it noisy. 🤡

I’ve seen some people saying they have anxiety issues and such, so pls note that I’m not invalidating your condition. If you’re trying to be more interactive, I really appreciate it! If you can’t, that’s fine too. You’re trying.

But for the people who have no reason other than feeling lazy to rb and comment, your lack of interactiveness is not excused. Please. Tumblr is a reblogging site. If you’re gonna consume content like authors are some sort of machines, I encourage you to go get some more perspective.

This site is not Instagram or the satan bird app. Your likes are appreciated but frankly speaking, they do nothing to the author except tell them “Hey i read ur fic but i'm not gonna support u :D” and honestly, that is detrimental to their creative capabilities and mental health. 

DON’T FOLLOW AN ACC JUST TO MINDLESS RB THEIR SIGNAL BOOST POSTS AND THEIR REBLOGS OF GIFS AND NOT INTERACT WITH THEIR WRITING AT ALL ! Trust me, authors prefer a lower amount of interactive followers than a high count that doesn’t even give them any feedback. Again your follows are appreciated, but when you’re following, you know the type of content the author creates, so the author expects that the more followers, the more interactivity. These days, this is just becoming the opposite. So don’t do it! If you’re gonna follow to read, interact with their works. I promise, this will make both you and the author happy. A win-win situation.

In conclusion: SUPPORT YOUR FUCKING AUTHORS! THEY ARE NOT MACHINES THAT HAVE NO FEELINGS TO PRODUCE CONTENT FOR YOU! FICS TAKE DAYS AND DAYS OF PLANNING, PLOTTING, OUTLINING, WRITING, EDITING, MAKING TEASERS. SO JUST SHOW THEM YOU APPRECIATE THEM WITH AN RB. IT’S THE L E A S T YOU CAN DO.

I will be liking this post here written by the lovely @chaninfused​ and @scriptura-delirus​ . Please take time to read it because if you weren’t convinced by my arguments, you will see how much frustration we as writers face on a daily basis. Please, just show support. Here is the post by @stayndays​ about how to get more people to read your work, because it also has a note on reblogging. Please educate yourself, and put an end to this mindless consuming culutre and bring up some interactivity.

If you’ve read this far, I want you to go to two of your favorite authors and leave some feedback in their inbox, and tag me in it (either tag me yourself or ask the author to do so, they won’t mind). Show your writers that our words are taking effect and you are becoming better consumers. I mean it. I’m serious. I want every single one who reads this post to do this. besides valid reasons, if you’re lazy to do this, you’re a part of the problem. PLEASE get more perspective.

Also, feel free to add to this post! I’d love to read your thoughts too, remember to be kind though. And, if I think your rb is somehow contradicting my points and is bringing down the reason I made this post, I will politely ask you to delete your comment, because this post is about being truthful about the harsh reality of tumblr consumers and how we can change it. I’m sure none of you will let it get to that point, though. <3 love you guys. 💓

And, just a reminder, don’t just blindly like this too. Do what I said before, and while I am not forcing you, I’d appreciate your reblog, because seriously, it took me 3 whole days to write this, plus, I’m sure this will help more of your followers understand the fault in consumer culture. haha, that’s it! This post was way too long uff.

also, this is ur cue to not be stupid in my inbox. You have something to say? Think I worded smth wrongly? I’m sure it wasn’t my intention to do so, point it out with manners. 

[love-amihan]

| ʜᴏᴍᴇ | ᴊᴊᴋ | ᴀᴏᴛ | ʜǫ | ꜰɪʟᴏ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛs | ᴍɪᴍɪ |

CRUSH // INUMAKI TOGE

amihan's note: oh god this is so embarrassing, some of this may or may have not how i acted towards my crush, out here exposing myself- bear with my humiliations i bought upon myself, happy reading!

summary: modern au wherein you have this crush on inumaki toge and you cannot function right whenever he's around. what can i say? he just takes away your words with his mere existence 🥴✋

crush!toge x gn!reader

the first time you noticed him was when he accidentally bumped to you yes it's cliche i know shhh

your friend happen to know him! would you look at that, luck's on your side

but it was a mistake asking your friend, yuta

he won't stop teasing you whenever toge's around

saw him passing by? yuta pokes your side and starts calling for toge, "toge c'mere!" then off you go to 'meet' your teacher to talk about that non-existent project you were gonna have.

your actions didn't go unnoticed by toge

he even joins yuta for the fun of it

oh you're having a good day? let's ruin that and make you humiliate yourself:

you inform your friends that you're having a great time so far, currently munching on your food happily.

all the stress gone along with the projects and homework that was piled up. until yuta thought it would be fun to ruin your streak.

he apparently just so happen to tell toge, out of all people, that it's alright to have lunch on your table.

surprise, surprise, the only available seat was beside you. "you little shit" you glare at yuta sitting across you who have the biggest smile on his face.

you gulp nervously as toge takes the seat beside you, "hey, i hope you don't mind" his soft voice making you feel fuzzy inside, oh that dreamy voice of his.

yuta gets all giddy, he chuckles at your state. he really thinks this will be the good time to introduce you, like c'mon you haven't even got time to fix yourself properly!

you're still recovering from the all-nighters you pulled. "i'm sure y/n is more than okay to have you here~"

yuta gestures to you, "l/n y/n, inumaki toge" toge turns to you smiling sweetly, "nice to meet you" he holds out a hand.

your throat becomes dry, looking back at him, trying not to look away because goddamn he looks good, who gave him the right?!

you snap out of your daze when you hear yuta's snickers, you feel heat rushing up your cheeks.

subtly rubbing your sweaty palm on your uniform before shaking his hand, "y-yeah, nice to meet you."

you mentally slap yourself for stuttering, quickly letting go of his hand and going back to your food. doing your best to pretend your crush is not beside you also eating his lunch.

after that faithful day, toge never fails to tease you with your little crush on him

oh did i forget to mention he's your classmate?

on top of that, you didn't even know how it ended up with having him as your seatmate

you can't help but give him side glances whenever the lesson starts

he will always catch your eyes on him making him smirk a little

one time, he straight up turns to face you staring right into your eyes small smile on his face, you squeak turning your head to the side quickly. you hear him chuckle at this before going back to writing down his notes.

if you're wearing glasses;

he playfully flirts with you if the teacher gives you a little break. he will nonchalantly pull your glasses off your face and try it on.

"woah, kinda high but not so far from mine" he said while scrunching his nose cutely. let's just say he wears contacts

he cocks a brow at you still wearing your glasses, "you think i suit this frame?" you nod your head hesitantly, looking away, face feeling hot.

"need my glasses please," you manage to mumble out. he chuckles nevertheless giving your glasses back.

there's this event on your school wherein toge was pulled from the sea of students

making him the center of attention, it was the usual event that the school hold every year wherein they teach you about relationships and such.

"what about you, young man?" the host points at toge's direction after giving a heartfelt speech about relationships.

"come and join me," your eyes zeroes on toge as he stands beside the host hands on his back, looking all polite and kind.

"anyone you fancy in these school?" the host puts his mic in front of toge gesturing at the crowd, toge smiles after getting the question.

"yes," a simple answer that have you a little disappointed because damn you're wishing that's you.

the host's smile gets wider, "oh we have a lucky one, such a fine handsome young man they would have."

the host continues the event letting toge go back to his seat after the little interview.

'indeed, lucky them' you thought to youself.

however, before toge could sit down. his eyes locks with yours, your breath hitch and busy yourself with your id looking at it like it's the first time you've seen it. yuta laughs at your crisis and shakes his head "you're hopeless."

yuta most likely forced you to have the courage to hit that follow button

you know what happened next? only a few seconds passed, he already accepts your follow request

of course, you come and check his profile right after

there's also that day when you encourage yuta to send a message to his crush

but yuta got an idea of making this fair for the both of you

he really likes the idea of you and toge working out

this is a great opportunity to push you towards him

he tells you to send a message to toge, so that it would be equal for you two

how stupid of you to agree with this boy

as soon as you hit send, you toss your phone to yuta wanting the floor to open up and just fall down on the bottomless pit

yuta gasp loudly seeing the response

he smacks your stomach which was closest in his reach and shoves your phone to your face, laughing loudly.

you: hey, i just wanna tell you that you're really smart and i can't help but also admire your pretty handwriting :>>

inumaki.mp3: oh thank you, thought you would compliment my face considering you stare more to it ;DD

your mouth hangs open looking back to yuta who's still laughing

to say that you're embarrassed and not wanting to exist right at this moment would be an understatement

last embarrassment for this headcanon

yuta just loves messing with you

there's this sports event in school wherein lots of students gets a chance to have an excuse to take picture with their crush if u're from philippines u know the feels

yuta takes this chance to get you one, of course he's that great of a friend like that

a little context for this, there's this kind of like a party for the students to enjoy after the long sports week that happened. with deejay and all plus the loud music blasting! -well our school provides one i dunno bout urs-

toge's sweating slightly after getting out of the crowd, still laughing from the little showdown they had in the center of the little crowd his friends gathered.

this day of the sports week is definitely his favorite part, his friends pats his back as they shout to each other over the loud music.

staying back where it's more calm and less people compare up in front where the students are jumping up and down restless.

yuta happen to pull you out just in time of finding toge with his friends chatting. he grins at you, you look back at him scared not knowing what's going on.

he drags you to where toge's group are standing, once you arrive you bite your bottom lip eyes widening after seeing toge.

you begin to turn on your heel and just straight up ditch yuta, however, luck's not on your side today. "togeee~!" yuta shouted patting his shoulder.

toge turns and sees yuta, smile still on his face. his eyes widens in recognition, "oh yuta!" he nod at him.

he moves his gaze to your back seeing you're about to flee the scene. yuta pulls you back making you face toge, "you remember them right?" toge nods giving you a smile.

you quickly look away, palms already sweating. your mind working on how to kill yuta in so many possible ways, "they wanna take picture with you, if that's alright?" yuta asked waving his phone, your plan scratching to killing him right now.

before toge could reply, his group of friends notices the little interaction and teases him.

"oh what do we have here?" nobara looks at the scene with a knowing smile, yuta pushes you to stand beside toge readying his camera.

yuji whistles seeing you two together, "c'mon~ put your arm around them!" yuji ushers, as toge's friend cheers in the background.

toge looks at you, his smile comforting you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. you inhale deeply from your nose, trying to calm down yourself.

"smile for the camera!" yuta shouted having fun with this as he clicks away on his phone capturing every moment. yep, you're definitely gonna kill him later.

copyright © 2021 by love-amihan all rights reserved. do not repost in other platforms. reblogs are welcome and highly appreciated! <33

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Love Is Blind

Masterlist

Summary: The time has come to reveal your and Henry's relationship to your brothers, simple right? Well it would be if your wasn't the baby sister to the infamous Shelby brothers.

Warnings: RPF, Swearing, Slight Angst, Fluff, Confrontation, Implied Violence

A/N: so here is the Peaky Blinders AU that i started a few days ago, Im really happy with this and had a lot of fun with it. But please excuse the typo's

Taglist: in reblogs

You looked around the road eyes wide ,watching the passers by. The peaky blinders were everywhere... this was always a risk, not to mention you wasn't entirely sure where each of your brothers were. Or aunt Polly you only knew that Ava was off with her lover Fred. And you were doing much of the same... Well not Fred but Henry, your own lover. You'd met him when welcoming Tommy home from the war... He was hard to miss tall- taller then Tommy even! and injured he was searching the crowded dock but... It was clear to see that noone was there to greet him off the boat. He looked distraught and shattered. You were a bleeding heart and had approached him as your family had a small get together, you'd given him a hug pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and welcomed him home giving him one of the flowers in the bouquet you'd brought for tommy. He had appreciated it, more then you'd ever know.

What you hadn't known was that he was moving into a home a few streets away. A few weeks later you saw him and he thanked you politely, you couldn't help think how very handsome he was, perfect blue eyes but for a speck of brown in his right eye, sharp regal features and pale alabaster skin now free from the bruising of his injury. He hadn't been as broad or muscular back then, but had been tall and lean.

Over the next few months chance meetings became dates, dates became full days basking in one another's presence until finally after a few months you'd fallen for the amazing gentle giant. It had been hard falling so hopelessly in love with Henry and having to hide from brothers and gangsters alike. But somehow you'd both made it with minimal near misses. Three years. Three years you'd been having this secret romance with him. But now you wanted more, as selfish as it was you wanted to be free to love him in public. Without worrying who may have seen you or if Aunt Polly will tell Thomas.

Yes she knew alright. There are no secrets from Aunt Polly. She said you done well and had even spoke with Henry a few times, she liked him. He wasn't in the business but could protect you, his shear size would be enough of a deterrent to others. And honestly she thought Tommy would get along with him, henry was clever and had an imposing frame. If Tommy had the chance, you knew Henry would be pulled into the fold, you were just unsure if that's what you both wanted.

Henry hadn't had much luck with work at first when he was here, so he became a boxer for a time learning to fight and defend himself and bulked up. It was terrifying to watch him be so ferocious in the ring and you thanked god each day Henry had avoided gaining a crooked nose. A few times you'd run into Tommy at the fights, your brother had singled you out and had you brought to him to stand and watch. But you were pleased to find out that your brother always placed his money on your man... So that was a good sign wasn't it?

Henry knew you didn't like his fighting but continued, he wanted to offer you everything. A home with kids and garden a cute little dog and the best clothes and food money could buy. So he saved everything! Kept all his winnings and in just over a year he had a nice sum of money in bets from his winnings and managed to earn enough for a small house. Since then he had a job doing the heavy lifting in a local Steel works.

Everything was set! Henry had a home for you, which you had a hand in help decorate. He promised a long and happy future with you! There was just the small problem of your family. They were... Protective to say the least, not only were you a Shelby sister but younger then Ava.

You quickly left the street today you were meeting Henry by the docks where Tommy kept the horse he'd just got. It was close... but not too close, it was worth the risk to be able to see Henry. Today was the day. You both decided! Henry will talk to them, introduce himself to your brothers this afternoon at the pub before they could drink too much.

You rounded the barn casting one final glance over your shoulder out of habit and slipped into the stalls. You could see him already, his flat cap and dark blue suit. Oh god he had dressed up for it, shit tommy would laugh him out of the bar. You chewed your lip and quivered you were anxious, this could be make or break. If Tommy was against it there was no way you could sneak about and keep your relationship going. They would chase henry out of Birmingham. Or kill him.

You stepped around the horse and giggled watching as henry gave himself a little pep talk twisting his signet ring on his pinkie with shaky hands. He was terrified and so were you. He paused and spun around to face you when he heard the small clicks of your heels on the concrete floor.

"W-what do you think?" he said spinning around holding his hands out letting you get a look at him. You stepped closer to him trying to settle your rapid heart. He was immaculate, stunning and handsome, sculpted by the gods... But looked too pretty. And god knows a Shelby girl wont be allowed to date a pretty boy. You smiled at him stopping inches away from him and walked your fingers over his chest slowly unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"You are magnificent... But a little too refined." you hummed motioning for him to shrug out of the loose suit jacket. He hissed out a shaky breath as you took the jacket from him and tucked it over your arm. That was better, the vest and white shirt showed his frame perfectly, and it also showed the slight strain on the buttons of his shirt. Hinting at the powerful man hidden beneath. You wanted them to see he was a strong man and it wasn't all the cut of the suit. You needed them to see you'd chosen a strong man capable of protecting you.

"There perfect" you said stepping back straightening his tie a little and stood back eyeing him carefully. There really was nothing more you could do. He would have to prove himself in what ever test your brother would conjure on the spot. By god you hope he impressed them.

"Yes you are" he quipped quickly eyes locking on to you making you blush and look away tip toeing around the horse in the stall that hid the two of you. Henry drew in a deep breath watching you closely. This was it. Today was the day, and he hadn't a clue what he was going to say to the great Shelby men. He cursed under his breath turning from you for a second. You understood, this wasn't just your future you were risking today, it was his life. Not many impress Tommy and far less managed to get in his good books when they were trying it on with the baby sister.

"You know that you have to just... Go in there and say 'I'm dating your sister' Right? Be firm and tell them like it is! Stand up to them! They would respect that" You cooed grinning at him from across the barn watching as your love eyed you from the other side of the magnificent white horse Tommy had recently got.

"What and have John blind me with his blades?" He scoffed at you before rounding the horse ducking under the stallions huge head and leant forward trapping you with huge hands resting either side of the horse stall you were leaning on.

"Ugh Johnny boy couldn't even reach your eyes Henry... Its just Tommy and Arthur you need to watch..." you rolled your eyes at him trying to act normal and ignore the black cloud hanging over your head. If this was the last time you were to be alone with him you wanted him to remember you as you are, not the nervous terrified woman you were at this moment. You smirked rising on your tip toes and teased his lips with your breath making him groan silently, the deep contracting of his wide barrelled chest the only give away to the effect you had on him.

You pulled back just as he dipped down to meet your lips and giggled at him as he wound his large arms around you hoisting you up by your waist and sat you on the wooden fence on the box stall bringing you eye level with him. You giggled folding your arms in your lap with his jacket knowing he wouldn't let you fall, he never did.

"Ah just Tommy and Arthur... That is cruel, I'm shaking in my shoes love" he teased wetting his lips with the luxurious pink tongue you knew all too well.

"Aww my poor bear, so frightened of my brothers I know, perhaps this will help you find that courage of yours~" you cooed before pressing forward kissing him on the lips. His lips drew up into a beaming grin and he stepped closer forcing your legs to part and dress to rise up to your knees as he devoured you in a heated yet forbidden kiss.

"Well then lets go shall we?" He grumbled eyes alight with a new want, a deep desire he had never shown before. It was thrilling and awe inspiring. Like he had a new lust, a lust for life and not just what was hidden beneath your skirts.

"Oh love like you said Tommy and Arthur?! I'm going to need all my strength for this meeting" he laughed as your face held a look of shock and disbelief then a petulant pout when you realised  there will be no quick romp in the hay this afternoon. With one final wink he spun around heading for the door.

You stood outside the pub. Your brothers were inside, you could feel it. There was a buzz in the air, the destinct feeling that followed 'the boss' hanging around. You had drawn a little attention walking the streets With henry at your side. People watched as the young Shelby woman walked arm in arm with an undisclosed male carrying his jacket no less. It made you cringe hearing the murmurs of 'should we tell the boss' 'does tommy know?' 'should we help her?' but luckily none made any moves towards you as you moved deeper and deeper into the heath. Towards the pub. You slowed as you neared the final destination and henry pulled out his cigarette tin fishing out the small stick deciding to have a quick smoke before entering the proverbial lions den.

"It will be okay... He will... Test you, but remember family is everything and I'm his youngest sister so..." you trailed off, the truth was you didn't know what Tommy would do or say. He was unpredictable and cunning, he liked to test people. You just hoped Henry passed with flying colours... or the only thing flying will be... you closed your eyes trying not to think of what would happen if things went sour. Henry could die, literally die today for loving you. It curdled your stomach you cant loose him. You hoped Tommy would see that.

"I know that... Here twos?" he said offering you the small cigarette he had been dragging on quickly nervously trying to pull some more courage from the small stick. Because once he was inside he couldn't show any weakness. It was daunting unable to show weakness when the love of his life was on the line. Henry was under no illusions Tommy could and would kill him, and there would be little Henry could do.

"Just remember y/n no matter what I love you. I will always love you" henry said as you toom a few drags on the cigarette. You whined and nodded breathing out the smoke trying to exhale all the tension and anxiety with the fumes.

"I love you too Henry, so much more then I thought I could ever love anyone" without a thought Henry pulled you to him and pressed a kiss to your lips. He didn't give a damn he was kissing the forbidden princess right outside her king brothers castle, or that the others around them would see. Be needed this one final pick me up before faceing the firing squad.

You smiled pulling back handing Henry the remainder of the cigarette and nodded to him. You got this. Then entered the pub walking right into the private room where your family sat. Instantly Polly looked at you frowning seeing you were pale, worried. Then her eyes flicked to your hands still folded with Henry's jacket draped over them. She drew a deep breath and sat straighter looking at the three males wearily. Oh god.

"Tommy I need to talk to you" you said seriously. But the blue eyed man rolled his eyes flicking the ash off his cigarette into the crystal ashtray before speaking dismissively trying to wave you off.

"Your not having that cat its final" john and Arthur chuckled at the automatic response Tommy gave but you frowned. You wasn't to sure what to say next, you didn't want to agitate him but you needed him to listen.

"No its not that- I have something to tell you and its important" you said drawing the attention of John and Arthur, but tommy heaved a sigh and moved stubbing out the lit cigarette and flicked his eyes to you letting you know he was listening.

"Mr Shelby could we talk?" You looked up seeing Henry standing there, tall and wide. Firm and unafraid confidently eyeing your brothers in a way oud never seen before. People cowered. Henry wasn't there was no hint of the anxious man outside. Henry was on a mission.

"Not now can't you see I'm speaking with my sister?" He grunted his voice was even. But to others could be seen as irritated. You turned as Henry didn't so much as flinch, you thought he'd run off but Henry let himself into the room standing closely behind you, one hand moving to his head removing his flat cap revealing the neat styled hair. The usually fluffy curls pulled into a slick style that accentuated his angular features. You nodded to him with a smile pleading him to carry on. What you didn't expect was for henrys huge arm to wrap around your waist in front of your sibling's. Fuck. You felt the shift in the room, anger and shock radiating from the men but an overwhelming curiosity. They wanted to watch this, it was rare someone was so god damned stupid as to put hands on you.

"She is the reason I'm here Mr Shelby" Henrys voice carried over the small space in a low determined tone. You tucked yourself into him, pivoting and twisting a hand to his tummy resting there, fingers twisting the button on his vest. You just needed to feel him, you felt like you were shielding him, but it was also self soothing. You needed to reassure yourself he was here for you. No one else. You.

"Oh? And why is that then?" Tommy shifted leaning back eyeing the man who was being so familiar with his baby sister. Tommy was no fool, you hand flinched or pulled away, this male had been around you enough that you were used to him touching you. You gravitated towards him like... like a lover? Tommy's blue eyes bit into the man. As unsettling as it was seeing his sister so close to another man Tommy couldn't help feeling a little relief, a small spark of joy. If this was your beau you'd done well. Tall, muscular wide and imposing. Not many would pick a fight with him, even drunk people would steer clear of him.

"She invited me" Tommy smirked hearing the man speak, he was confident. Unafraid that boded well too. He wasn't a fucking coward... or atleast he was pretending not to be.

"This is what I wanted to talk to you all about...Tommy, Arthur, John... This is Henry... My?" You hesitated and looked between henry and our family. You just froze, clammed up at the calculating look on Tommy's face. It was frightening being scrutinised by him.

"Lover sweetheart we agreed no more secrets" Henry finally broke the silence tipping his face down to yours with a smile. Ignoring your family in favour of snapping you back to reality.

"Oh no you fuckin' aint sonny boy- y/n you get your ass over here now!" Arthur broke the silence with a rough voice shouting, ordering you to round the table and sit next to him. You grit your teeth and shoo, your head at Arthur watching as he turned red in anger. You wasn't like Ava, you never caused trouble or made trouble for your brothers, heel you were a 'goody two shoes' always doing as you were told. But this time you refused to do as you were asked and stayed put.

Tommy ever the eagle eye noticed. He had been ready to rip this man to shreds but, your simple act of defiance caught his attention. You wasn't a girl to play silly games, so to blatantly refuse and tell them no and side with this Henry meant you were serious. This was serious. And Tommy was wracking his brain he recognised this man... But from where? He was sure he wasn't a blinder so who was he?

"Now y/n don't make me come and get ya"

"I said no"  you snapped at your eldest brother, but your eyes were on Tommy. Henry squeezed your waist as you stared down your most threatening of brothers. Eyes locking with his blue gaze as you held your ground. The smallest of smirks tugged at his lip. You were unsure if it was good or bad but he wasn't scowling so you'd take that as a win.

"Your the one that was boxing...pulverised the others" Tommy said pointing slowly at Henry whilst pulling a crystal glass of whisky towards him, his thumb skimming the rim of the glass in thought. He was thinking, scheming... but then again when was Thomas Shelby not scheming?

"Yes, not that it was personal I needed to win" henry spoke clearly not letting the severe glares f your other brothers shake him. He was impenetrable a solid rock- a mass of a man all firm and sharp angles determined and poised.

"Oh? And why is that then?" Tommy purred still keeping his cards close to his chest, no one knew what he really thought of you and henry or the relationship at that moment. But he was speaking, not shooting. And that was all that mattered.

"I needed the money to buy a house for your sister" Henry said plainly placing his hat on the table in front of him. It was a strange gesture but one you understood. He was making himself comfortable but also using it as a metaphor throwing his hat in the ring so to speak, showing your family he had no intentions on hightailing it out of there and leaving you in the dust.

"You did, did you?" Here was something, a twinkle in the cool blues. You tried to dig deeper but as soon as it was there it had vanished. For a second you dare say your brother was impressed with your choice in man.

"I wasn't coming to you without being able to offer your sister something... I wanted to prove I'm capable of providing her a future" Henry shrugged feeling Tommy with a stare. You shivered hearing the iron will, the absolute control Henry had over himself. John scoffed and leant over the table glaring at Henry dragging on his cigarette then spoke up trying to mimic Tommy's own indifferent threatening demeanour, but failed. There was only one Terrifying Tommy.

" and some tiny house on a backstreet in Birmingham is a future?" john scoffed laughing outloud trying to dampen Henry's resolve. But your man was ready and grinned smugly showing off the perfect teeth and stunning looks.

"Medium actually... not huge but its bigger then what she is used to, with front and back garden bought and paid for... Last week I even got her a kitten... Russian blue expensive but y/n wanted one and I wont deny her" he replied without missing a beat. Henry was proud of what he had achieved, and so he should be. The house he had managed to buy was a  nicely sized three bedroom home, and it was indeed larger then where you lived with your family at the moment. Well decorated and furnished with tasteful furniture most of which you picked out together.

"And what you think I'll give my blessing because you got her a bloody cat?" tommy drew the attention back to him. You swallowed dryly. Tommy sounded mad now. You moved shuffling in front of Henry trying to cover him more, yet your hand wandered behind your back and you clasped your lovers hand tightly hoping things wont go from bad to worse.

"No, you don't need to bless anything, I'm not here to ask. I'm telling you that we are together and serious...We've been a couple for almost three years... And its about time I informed you" your breath hitched as Henry's voice resounded in the room. Oh god that was too far! You paled and snapped your head to him on the brink of tears and pressed back into Henry trying to make him pull back, but no. The man was a brick wall- immovable and stubborn... yet cool and unfazed. But what struck you most was the shock on your brothers faces. No one had spoken to any of them like that for a very long time. And for good reason.

"There is a fine line between courage and stupidity Henry" Tommy said recovering from the shock quicker then the others. He didn't even see you now standing on shaking knees trying to shield henry as much as you could with your frame. But it was no use, Henry was to big, you were but a tiny waif of a woman in front of him. But Tommy bore his curious gaze into the huge man. It would appear your love now had his undivided attention.

"I know, but I'm on the right side of it. I love your sister. And I have loved her for three years, since the day I got off the boat" tommy tilted his head to the side surprized once more by your lover. You drew a slow breath in. You knew tommy respected those who fought for their country.

"You served?" came the question as tommy poured himself another glass and then lit up another cigarette. You saw a quick smile light up his face, but again it was gone before anyone could really notice. Henry heaved a deep breath and nodded, he was no fool. He took a chance and it had paid off, or it seemed to have paid off he wasn't staring down the barrel of a gun or had a peaky cap flung at his face.

"Yes, along side you in fact... I was smaller then... Easy to miss. Your sister showed kindness to me when I had no one and nothing. She gave me hope, hope for the possibility of family and a normal life. She managed to ease my terrors and pull me from the memories of the war. And for that I will give her everything" henry spoke, you noticed your brothers each shrunk. They understood, the war left scars on the mind and it was true even henry had suffered, but you were able to sooth him and bring him back from the worst night terrors. Tommy grunted and flicked his gaze from you to your man then back again. There was a warmer hint to the blues, dare you say an acceptance. But even you knew he was still going to pull something out of the bag and throw a curveball at your love. Tommy still needed to test Henry, but atleast you could say so far so good.

"And taken something I assume?" Polly hissed looking away as your brother spoke. You rolled your eyes, did he seriously want to know if you'd fucked? Tommy held Henry captive in his gaze he knew the answer but for some reason he wanted the hear it out loud. You couldn't help this was Tommy's test, he was daring your lover to lie to him. You prayed Henry wasn't that stupid. To your reliefe he proved he wasn't as he replied sincerely.

"I shared something freely given I assure you there was no pressure" the statement wasn't smug, henry didn't make you sound like an achievement, something to conquer. And he made it clear that he hadn't pressed you into anything. It earned him a nod from all three men, you smiled they were coming around to Henry. Thank fuck!

"And you come here and say that to my face? Tell me you've broken in my sister? You certainly have balls" your smile dropped and you shifted on your feet. What just happened? Things were going great, and now they weren't? Luckily Henry was more prepared for this then you and he answered smoothly not fazed by the way things had turned so quickly.

"Yes I'm not going to stand here and lie about our relationship I love her. And I'll not hide it a second more. I will protect her and cherish her she has my upmost respect"

"So you say you respect her? Yet... She's carrying you jacket around like some maid?" tommy tried twisting things pokeing at Henry trying to get a rise out of him. Probably so he had a reason to chase him off. But you wanst having it.

"Tommy, I'm holding it so he cannot run! Stop being an ass" you growled releasing Henry's hand and moved forward seething at your brother who lounged back regarding you carefully.

"That's enough mouth from you y/n you've done enough becoming a fucking little whore when our back is turned?" you paused takeing half a step back as tommy's furious gaze landed on you. You quivered feeling hurt, flushing in anger and embarrassment. Not once had he spoke to you like that, you were always praised by your brother, protected and loved to hear him growl at you so cruely was heart breaking.

"I'd ask you don't speak to her like that-" Henry spoke up growing angry himself with the way Tommy had spoke to you. But henry was ignored as Tommy began to lay into you hissing venomously belittling you in front of your family and lover.

"Tell me sister is this some last mineut attempt to cover up a bastard? If so is it even his? For all we know you could be bed hopping all over the heath" you whined at the assault mouth hanging open trying to form words but it was hard. Your eyes welled with tears. Call you a cry baby but you loved your brothers and tried to do them proud to have one of them be so nasty cut you deep.

"No!- Tommy of course not-"

"So your just becoming the heaths bike then? To think after everything you'd sink so low to ruin yourself- Ava was one thing she's always ran around behind our backs but you? I really expected better then to become a two bit whore" his words were like razors ice picks hitting your chest, he always knew how to slice deep. It came with being a blinder- but you never thought you'd be on the receiving end. You moved back another step bumping into Henry, you wanted to run and hide. For the first time in your life you were scared, you didn't want to feel your brothers fury.

"Do not speak to her like that in my presence ever again" Henry snarled brushing past you hiding your quivering from behind him. He was livid and for a second you thought he was going to swing for your brother.

"She's my sister-" Tommy started looking back at henry who had taken the bait hook line and sinker. But was cut off by henry stepping forward leaning over crowding Tommy thumping the table with more force then necessary. Everything jumped, the glasses ashtray even the bottle leapt from the table. You jerked gasping as the bang echoed  in the room.

"I don't give a fuck. You wont ever talk to her that again. She is mine and brother or not you will treat her with respect or you will pay for it!" everything stopped. No one moved. No one breathed. It wasn't everyday someone threatened A Shelby, least of all Tommy. Henry growled at your blue eyed brother. Tommy tilted his head taking him in.

"H-henry?" you whispered moving forward pressing a hand to the small buckle as the back of his vest tugging him back, making him stand at his full Hight just in time as John shot up from his seat ready to lunge.

"Oi! Don't you talk to him like that I'll have your fucking eyes!" he roared jumping up turning on your lover but Tommy stopped him fisting a hand in his jacket and tugging him to sit back down... He was grinning?

"Tommy?" Arthur asked not following, but then again he always was a few steps behind everyone. You frowned blinking back tears and gasped. That bastard! It was a trick! You slumped  and wrapped yourself around henry before anyone could realise what happened. Henry curled himself around you frowning confused and you tucked yourself into him.

"Any man who a the balls to defend her against me...Will protect her from anyone..." Tommy spoke and tipped his head to the seat across from him offering Henry a seat at the table. You both sat quickly beside one another Polly moved pouring you both a drink, you looked like you needed it.

"So? So you mean we can be together?" Henry asked trying to keep up with how he'd just gone from having a target on his back to having a seat with the family. Tommy smiled nodding whilst bringing his own drink to his lips sipping the amber liquid then spoke.

"Mmm But you've broken her... You'll repay me for ruining her by making her an honest woman"

"The rings in my pocket" Henry said rubbing your back as you shook next to him, the adrenaline and worry now rushing through you. All these years of anxiety washing away with sweet tears of reliefe. Henry tucked you under his arm and held you close on the bench seat hushing you as you crumbled. You didn't really register what was said instead pressed your self into him hands tugging his clothes trying to calm down.

"Then do it- but you ever turn your fists on her I'll kill you" Tommy threatened holding out his cigarette tin offering one to henry, he took it thanking him then popped it between his lips and lit the white stick. His hand only quivered slightly, the rush of what just happened hitting him.

"It will never happen, I couldn't live with myself if I ever made her feel less then perfect let alone harm her" he said squeezing you tighter to his side.

"Then we have a deal?" tommy smiled, a genuine smile as he spied the two of you. He had no doubt, if henry was willing to go toe to toe with him in his pub, in front of his family- probably the most dangerous thing you could do in the heath. Then henry will take care of you and protect you with his life. Plus Henry made you happy and that was all Tommy could ask for, your safety and happiness. Contrary to what people thought he had no issues with anyone dating his sisters. He just didn't want his girls to have weak simpering husbands to protect them should the worst ever happen... And Henry knew how to shoot a gun from his time in the forces, so when handed a weapon Tommy wont have to worry about having a newbie protecting his baby sister. And Henry will be given a gun to protect you with.

"That we do" Henry grinned shaking Tommy's hand and quickly snagged your own placing a thin gold band on your left ring finger before you could even muster a single sound. You blinked wiping your eyes pawing at the salty droplets and gasped seeing the band on your finger, a small diamond in the centre or the dainty ring.

"W-what your not e-ven gonna ask me Henry?" You stuttered at him hiccupping and sniffling trying not to have a full blown breakdown and cry from both relief and happiness. Henry laughed pressing a cheeky kiss to your cheek making you flush and tuck your head back into his chest trying to hide from the onlookers.

"Now why would I give you the chance to say no? Hmm? I may be a tad slow sometimes but I'm not a complete idiot" he purred finishing with a small chuckle, that the others echoed everyone had calmed down accepting the news. You whined at him and slapped his chest lightly pouting as henry laughed.

"Besides your brother and I made a deal" he added as you pulled back eyeing your new ring with a weak smile managing to control yourself bar a few sniffling gasps and the odd rogue tear.

"Oh s-o I'm b-business?~" you tried to tease him but the words lost their bite as you were still tearful from your crying. You were weepy you couldn't help it, today had been stressful- hell this past week had been stressful!

"Business? No... Your my world love" he cooed not caring in the slightest at how soppy he sounded. He wasn't here to put on a show for your brothers. He was here for you.

"I love you" you said peeking up at him with a shy smile.

"Good to know~" he hummed winking at you taking another drag of the cigarette, but you pouted sticking out your bottom lip like you did each time he teased you.

"Yes, yes I love you too" he caved pressing a chaste kiss to your lips drawing a growl from your eldest brother, but nothing was thrown so you summarized you were safe.

"Congratulations Henry I told you they weren't that bad" Polly spoke up quickly ending your sweet kiss before anything could go south.

"Yes Ms Polly you were right, we should have listened to you" henry admitted rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly

"Wait pol you knew?" tommy growled snapping to his aunt but the older woman rolled her eyes. Honestly you think he'd learn by now. No one pulled the wool over Polly's eyes.

"Who to you think has helped keep her from having a kid for three years Tommy! At least that's one thing I don't have to worry about anymore thank god!" she huffed pretending to be annoyed but you knew she was happy for you. She had been routing for henry, and trying to get you to tell the boys for a long time. You were just scared.

"Polly! Stop it" you squeaked flushing, no one needed to know  just what Polly had been helping you with! Least of all your fucking siblings!

"What its true? Now your free to pop them out without any uncomfortable questions from this lot, and i have no doubt it will be soon" she teased with a smirk enjoying tormenting you, she had bit her tongue for too long it was about time she got to poke fun at you. You were such a shy innocent little thing.

"Oh my god stop" you moaned ducking down as everyone chuckled at your expense. Henry then made it worse by ducking down beside you and whispered in your ear.

"...She does have a point love" then nipped at it quickly before turning back to your brothers as your face flamed.

It hadn't been the easiest of days, but in the end all the worry and anxiety had paid off not only had you managed to reveal your relationship to your family with no casualties. But you also became engaged to the man of your dreams. Tommy seemed relived, he was happy for you in his own over protective brotherly way. The freedom that came with todays outcome was worth it and now you and henry were free to start your lives together. Truly start with a marriage kids the whole nine yards! And you'd never been happier.

[itsnothesameasitwas]

hiii! this month I’ve read a lot of great fics, so I decided is time to start my monthly fic rec… that means I’ll be doing a short fic rec and recap every month with my favorite fics of the month

note: the fics I’ll be mentioning weren't necessarily posted recently

!!! - please be careful and read all the tags and/or warnings before start reading and left kudos and nice messages to the authors <33

❀ Divinely Blessed by thinlines @thinlinez  | 17k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

“I heard you, Ni. But what do you mean?”

“What do you mean what I mean?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved his alpha friend down onto a seat. “Did you mean you lick someone out or…?”

“Nah, mate! It was me! I got licked out!” Harry could only stare at Niall in horror.

Alpha Harry prides himself on having the bravest and most caring omega who might or might not just fulfill his sudden curiosity.

note: for some reason i don’t know i fell in love with the ABO and found this fic someway and WOW! it’s really fluffy and sweet and while i was reading all i could think about was “god! i really want someone who love me like Harry loves Lou and viceversa” and also has a great smut scene, funny and well writen (cliff ily babe)

❀ Promise me you won’t run away by thinlines | 23k | Explicit | ABO | Español

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

note: this fic is beautiful and really REALLY well written, i need to say i cried and im the most cold person in the world but this caught me and I LOVED IT! but also when i finished it i got mad because in the end notes was the spanish translation and i read it in english lmao; anyway i love it!!!... summing this up, the fic made me thought about that LOVE ALWAYS WIN <33

❀ Twist the knife by jishler @jishlerfics | 6k | Explicit | Angst / Smut | fic post

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

note: i definetely don’t read smut in purpose and the reason i’ve read this was because i love the moodboard BUT i need to thank the person who put it on my dash because i liked it so much!! was fun to read and the smut is pretty well written :))

❀  Hold you now by solvetheminourdreams @solvetheminourdreams | 131k | Angst with happy ending | fic post | playlist

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

note: at the end of the first chapter i was emotional, is the kind of fic that you feel every single emotion, the one you literally feel are part of it... it’s perfectly well written and please give it a chance and  check all the stef’s works because she’s a super talented writer... if i say something else i’ll probably do spoilers so, shut up ana.

❀ The money mark by brightgolden @brightgolden | 52k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

OR

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

note: THIS IS MY FAVORITE FIC OF THE YEAR. sorry, but this fic is super well written, is omega harry + alpha louis and find smth like this is almost impossible! but i loved the fact that harry could be an omega and a sugar baby but he’s independant and strong and wow! it’s amazing; everyone should read it because it’s really good!! (ps. louis is the alpha of my dreams, he’s a complete gentlemen)

❀ Sweet like candy by neodiamond @neondiamond | 4k | General Audiences | ABO | fic post

Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.

note: this is the cutest fluffy fic I have ever read! strangers to friends to lovers <333

❀ Literally making love by Brooklyn_babylon @twopoppies | 30k | Explicit | Robot/Human Relationship | fic post

Holding up one of the android's eyes to the workshop’s windows, he smiled as the light picked up the gold flecks in the pale green of his irises. Louis had always paid attention to even the tiniest details.

--

All Louis intended to do was rescue someone in need from loneliness. He had no idea it would be himself.

note: science + me = signal error BUT this fic. OMG. how to say this is one of the fics would be in my recap at the end of the year; i have read another fic by Gina and was really good but this is probably my favorite between both of them... all i know and want now is to create my perfect partner lmao. 

❀ I’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by pixies @tomlinbuns | 26k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

note: this one is simple to discribe... the best of the best. one of my favorites abo fics, funny, teasing and very romantic. i enjoyed so much read how these two guys fell in love with each other. god bless this fic <33

❀ Beautiful stranger by lovelarry10 @chloehl10 | 66k | Explicit | ABO / Mpreg | fic post

“Did you want to- oh. Uh, sorry, I-” Harry stuttered, licking his lips as he looked over Louis’ bare torso, not focusing on the ocean ahead of him. “You’re very distracting, Lou.”

“Trying to tell me you haven’t seen a topless Omega before?” Louis asked, walking back to his rucksack and grabbing a bottle of suncream out of it before returning to stand by Harry.

“Not one as stunning as you,” he thought he heard Harry mutter as he started to rub the cream into his shoulders.

*****

When Alpha Harry Styles attends the Gucci Cruise 2020 show, he knows what to expect: clothes, clutch bags, and a few too many pretentious people. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to run into an Omega who is more beautiful than anything on the runway.

note: this fic is from 2019 but who cares, i loved it so much and i want to thank/blame @justalarryblog​ because she unintentionally recommended it to me in her abo fic rec post and now i want someone like this harry in my life... is it too much to ask? because is one of the most beautiful abo fics i’ve read this month and wow. if you haven’t read it yet, what are you waiting for??

❀ Waiting on you by beckywritesthings @beckydoesthings  | 21k | Mature | Mpreg | fic post

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

note: this fic is really new, someone reblogged the fic post and when i saw it first i was like ‘huh?’ and then suddendly (in less than a minute) decided it was the next thing i’ll be reading and now i’m completely in love with it. Lou i need to say you’re the kind of guy everyone wants in their life <3 

-----------

❀ all the love, ana. xx

[rose7420]

Snow Days

Loki and little Y/n take a day out in the snow, and Loki is scared Y/n will see his true form... requested from @lokiismyhubby

Y/N shivered in powdered, icy snow. Earlier in the day she had begged Loki to take her outside so she could play and experience the frozen precipitation.

Loki was reluctant about her wish.

Very reluctant.

At the current moment, he towered above her tiny form that was in between his black boots. For such a powerful god he looked harmless in his current attire. He wore more than two layers for each article of clothing claiming he was sensitive to the cold. He resembled the looks of an Eskimo. She smiled as she remembered her earlier teasing.

Unfortunately, Loki hadn’t let up on her layers either. Forcing her to wear even more things than him, she’d practically waddled out like a duck with the amount of clothing she wore. Loki had been pinching out another coat for her to wear, ready to force it upon her upper body if needed when she pleaded for him to let up. He had thankfully relented.

Now, his attention wasn’t on her, however. He seemed to be worried about something as his gloved fingers twitched every so often and that crease on his forehead was even more pronounced than usual.

“Are you okay Loki?” Y/N asked from the far-below ground. He paid no mind to her question, most likely because he couldn’t hear her. That was very unusual, for he had superior hearing to even the borrower herself who was gifted with sensitive ears to watch out for predators since the world was a very big place to a tiny thing like her.

“Loki!” She yelled, her hands cupped around her mouth attempting to amplify her quiet voice.

Still no answer.

She was getting rather cold on the frigid, frozen ground so she walked close to Loki’s left boot and placed a hand upon the leather ready to get his attention. But then an idea came to mind.

She gathered a sizeable snowball that was bigger than her fist and tapped Loki’s boot hoping the sensation would catch his attention. As hoped, he did spare her a glance and kneeled down to see her better, ready to offer a palm. Once his face was closer she readied her throwing arm and launched the snowball towards his face.

It landed on his cheek, barely making him flinch until he felt the coolness of it.

“Why did you have to do that?” He snarled, scaring Y/N. Panicking, Loki stood up momentarily forgetting about the borrower below him.

Y/n backed away from him trying to get out of the pathway of his fury and his boot. Right in time too as she saw the sole of his shoe flatten the snow where she had just stood. Her heart pounded with fear. She craned her head way up to see his face but he was covering it with both his hands.

“Loki, I-I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” Y/n apologized.

Loki heard Y/n and worried she’d see him for what he truly was… a monster.

He couldn’t lose the only friend he had and wanted.

“Get away Y/n!” He yelled.

His loud voice frightened her. He never yelled. Especially at her. Y/n backpedaled falling into the deep snow. She fought to get back up but the snow was too deep and she too small. She began to cry as she realized she had messed such a good day up by a simple snowball.

Loki heard whimpers and sniffles. He peeked through his fingers to peer down at Y/n but when his eyes scanned the snowy ground her he caught no sight of her. His heart jolted, and his chest was tight with fear when he fell down to his knees searching the cold snow for his tiny friend.

“Y/n! Where are you?” He called. The whimpers before had quieted and the only thing to greet him was silence. His fingers desperately combed through the snow. She was tiny as ever, so vulnerable to the elements. She’d surely die if he didn’t find her in time.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

There! His cold digits made contact with a warm object. He scooped her out and scanned her form for any harm, then held her tightly to his chest. Her breath was even as if she had passed out. He tenderly pet her hair with a gentle finger to awaken her.

“Loki?” She croaked.

His hand bearing her was about to raise her to his face when he remembered why this incident had happened in the first place. He held still. Y/n squirmed in his hand that had formed a barrier to properly see his face. She climbed his fingers, latching onto the tip of his middle digit pulling herself up. She felt him shake his hand causing her to fall back down into his cupped palm.

“Loki!” She scolded.

Loki knew he had to show his friend who he truly was. It was not fair to her to hide back his true character, what he was meant to be. He raised his hand to his face and uncurled his fingers. He watched Y/n with apprehension as her eyes landed on his face gazing upon the blue of his skin paired with the indented lines. He waited for the fear to show, to become palpable.

But it never did.

She extended her arms out as if she wanted to touch it.

“A-are you not afraid of me? Do you not see who I truly am?” Loki asked, astonished.

Y/n crossed her arms and sassily replied: “All I see Loki is that your skin changed colors and that you have really cool lines on your forehead. Can I touch it?”

Loki couldn’t help but laugh. Y/n saw who he truly was, and didn’t just tolerate it but liked it. He felt relieved and happy.

“Well normally if you were to touch it I could harm you,” Loki informed Y/n.

“Well… if it does hurt me or whatever I’ll stop!” Y/n retorted.

Loki knew there was no way he could say no, Y/n was a stubborn thing. He raised her carefully to his forehead, holding still as her tiny hands ran across his skin. He closed his eyes and relished the little massage.

He felt Y/n jump off his hand and onto his shoulder.

“Hey! What did I say about doing that? You could get hurt and fall!” Loki scorned her. Y/n just shrugged and snuggled into the shade of his jacket hood up close to the uncovered skin of his neck, the blue tint receding and reverting back to his usual pale tone.

“Hey, no rush big guy but we may wanna head inside cus I think it’s about to snow some more and I can’t handle another one of your hissie fits,” Y/n said, completely ignoring his scolding.

He rolled his eyes and smiled trekking his way back to the little cabin they called home.

Later on, when Loki sat on his recliner, and Y/n in her own she thought of something.

“Loki you asked me if I was afraid of you out there. Why?”

Loki took a sip of his hot chocolate and looked at Y/n questionably.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asked confused setting down the mug lightly to not jostle Y/n.

Y/n bit her lip and pondered the words she wanted to use. “I mean maybe to normal people it may be unusual but to us not really, you know? I mean look at me! I’m smaller than your thumb and escaped HYDRA.”

Loki gave her an intrigued look so she continued.

“My point is Loki, is that I know what real monsters look like. And you are not one of them. Sure we may be a bunch of weirdos who turn blue and need therapy but we are good weirdos. I just want you to know that.”

Loki smiled at her. Y/n stood up from her chair and jumped over to his arm resting on the side of his chair.

His smile changed into a frown and was about to scold her again but before he could she hugged his wrist. He pried her off, holding her waist between a finger and thumb and setting her on his shoulder where he herded her close to his neck in a makeshift hug.

“Well then, you are certainly my favorite little weirdo.”

If you enjoyed reading please reblog and leave a like!

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[blossom-hwa]

Prologue (CHAN) - |Breathe, and Live|

And so we begin the fluff :) Enjoy single dad chan!

Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, slice of life, single parent!au

Triggers: allusions to sex

Word Count: 1.7k

Chan is lost, so lost, and sometimes it feels like the walls are caving in. But he’ll make it, he knows. He has to, for the two little boys cradled in his arms who he loves more than anything he has in the world.

SKZ Masterlist | Breathe, and Live | Touching Stars (TBZ teacher!au)

She tells him at precisely five fourteen in the afternoon, voice dead but panicked, on a crowded bus full of people, words crackling over the phone.

“Chan, I’m pregnant.”

The walls are silent. His laptop, too, since he paused the track to pick up the call. He can’t speak, can’t breathe. It deafens him. It squeezes at his head, pounds against his temples, fills his ears with static buzzing.

His vision blurs. Something rises in his throat.

Chan thinks he might throw up.

How? his mind screams. He’s always been careful, always used a condom. She takes birth control, takes the pill every morning after. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fucking make sense.

But you can never be sure, the rational part of his brain unhelpfully supplies.

The droning voice of his old sex-ed teacher back in Australia fills his mind. “The only way to be sure is to practice abstinence.”

Back then, he’d snorted quietly in the back with his friends, elbowed them and smirked and didn’t bother paying attention to the rest of the lecture. What was the point, anyway? Chan may not be as cautious as his parents – the impulse decision to stay in Korea for university, even after his family moved back, is proof of that – but he’s tried to be careful with this. Cautious, respectful, caring.

That kind of thing would never happen to him.

Somewhere, somehow, he hears her saying his name. Between the noise in the background and the ringing in his ears, it’s muffled. Disjointed.

“Okay,” he manages to choke out. “Okay.”

What else can he say?

Her voice sounds hoarse now, even over the tinny phone speakers. She’s crying, or on the verge of it – Chan’s known her long enough recognize the catch in her words that signals the lump in her throat. “I – Chan, I don’t –” She gasps. “I don’t think I want to keep it.”

It takes a moment to understand. But the minute he does, there’s only horror. Sharp, clear, precise. It pierces his chest, breaking through the foggy cloud of his brain.

He wants to scream, yell at her, how could she think of that? How could she not want to keep the child that’s depending on her?

But his sister’s voice cuts through his swirling thoughts. “No uterus, no opinion.” Hannah’s dark eyes, quiet but challenging, flash across the restaurant table, voice cutting through the debate going on across from her. “You don’t own anyone’s body but your own.”

He’d agreed then. He still agrees now.

So he takes a deep breath and tries to understand. They’re young. Stupid. He’s in his last year of university, she’s on a gap year. They’re barely old enough to function in society on their own. It’s understandable. And more importantly, it’s her body. Her choice.

Another deep breath, a bit shakier this time. He settles his mind. “Come home first,” he says quietly, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “Come home first. We’ll talk about it then, okay?”

There’s a sniff on the other end. “Okay,” she breathes. “Okay.”

The call ends. Chan sits still for a moment, staring at some random section of the wall, thinking but not really seeing. The paint is peeling. The lights are glaring. The university studio, the place he thinks of essentially as a second home, suddenly feels cloistering. Unwelcoming. It feels like some disgusting, warped metaphor for his life.

He buries his head in his hands and tries to breathe.

. . .

Chan can barely face her parents. It’s not that he doesn’t want to. He really wants to tell things upfront, give them his apologies and promise that he’ll do anything to help them out, but they just look at him with smoldering, narrowed eyes. There’s no endearment in her mother’s expression anymore, no quiet pride in her father’s, as though he was another son. There’s only hatred. Disgust. Disappointment.

With a thick tongue and embarrassment coloring his face, he swears up and down that they used protection. She doesn’t say anything, just looks down with a sort of hopeless expression on her face and occasionally nods or shakes her head in accordance with what he’s saying.

They blame him. That much is certain. Privately, Chan thinks that’s a little unfair, but given that the woman bears the brunt of the pregnancy much more than the man, he lets it go. It’s understandable. After all, he blames himself a lot, too.

His parents act a little better. They’ve known him for all twenty-one years of his life, known how he always tries to treat people with respect, with care. Chan can still hear the disappointment and worry in their hushed voices over the phone, but it’s okay. It’s better than hatred.

She doesn’t want the child, she makes that clear. Her parents don’t want it either. They want to adopt it out.

On the other hand, Chan, well… it’s fucking hard. He’s barely finished with university, barely gotten started with his life. And he’s in the damn music industry. Unless he makes it big, there won’t be a lot of opportunities to sort out his life.

But he wants the child. Even though it’s going to be difficult taking care of her through the pregnancy, then making a path with the baby in tow, he wants it. He doesn’t want to give this up.

So they settle. She’ll have the baby. Once it’s born, she’ll take care of some of the bills if she can. Otherwise, Chan is the guardian.

It isn’t so bad, not at first. There’s the morning sickness to contend with, but they live together. It isn’t too hard for Chan to take some time to take care of her. They make the doctor’s trips together, and seven weeks into the pregnancy, they find out they’re having twins.

(Well, Chan is having twins. Her face screws up just the slightest amount, not in disgust but not in something nice either. Chan elects to ignore it and focuses on his own happiness.)

He works like a madman, sending off tracks to companies, submitting others for homework. He performs when he can, picking up any possible extra paychecks. She works, too, so money isn’t an issue yet. Chan also thanks all the higher beings above that she’s on a gap year, so he’s the only one adding homework to the equation.

The storm starts brewing in the fifth or sixth month, maybe. They’re having two boys, and they like to remind her that they’re there. She doesn’t feel well a lot of the time and has the crankiness to prove it. Still, she helps when she doesn’t have cramps, though she does complain about the weight gain.

But the number of nights where they’re up at odd hours only increases. The boys like to kick. Their mother wants to scream. Chan doesn’t even think he has a brain at this point – any cells up in his head have just been pounded to mush.

On one bad night, when she’s almost crying of exhaustion and the babies won’t stop fucking moving, Chan brings out his laptop. His fingers fly over the keyboard, tweaking soft beats, changing notes, composing a short little melody.

It’s rough, nothing substantial, something completely opposite from the polished tracks he makes for class. No lyrics. There’s just a simple piano melody backed by some guitar chords and it’s probably not going to do anything to help but Chan’s this close to just ripping out his hair and screaming for the entire city of Seoul to hear. He has to try something.

He almost deletes the track by mistake and has a mini heart attack, but he saves it with shaking fingers and brings the laptop over to the bed. She’s lying there, hair a mess, eyes red, but there’s some relief in her gaze as he puts the device on the sheets next to her and hits play.

It works. It fucking works. The babies slowly stop kicking, and she eventually falls asleep.

For just a moment, Chan sits on the edge of the bed and takes in the calm, soaks in the silence broken only by the track playing softly in the background. He rubs his eyes once, twice, clears the fog that obscured his vision.

Maybe he can do this. Maybe he can raise these two kids, even if he’s the only parent they have. Maybe there’s the tiniest fucking chance in the world that he can really be a good father, someone for his children to look up to and love. Maybe there’s a chance that he can really have this family.

Four months later, she gives birth to two healthy baby boys. Jisung is born first at 11:58 p.m. on September 14, while Yongbok comes next at 12:11 a.m. on September 15.

Chan holds them close as soon as he’s able, in awe of their tiny faces, their tiny limbs and tiny eyes.

How did he manage to create such life?

“Give them English names,” she says tiredly, her voice barely a whisper. She looks at them too, a bit sadly, with some care, but distantly. “They’re yours.”

A tinge of bitterness spikes in his chest, but it dissolves as he looks back into the faces of his two boys. She’s right. They are his. So he decides on Peter for the baby beginning to wake on his left arm, and Felix for the boy still sleeping soundly on his right.

She’s up and out of the hospital in a matter of days. A week later, she moves back into her parents’ home, leaving Chan standing in the doorway of their apartment, two babies in his arms.

“We’ll make it together,” he whispers, watching her car disappear down the street. “Together.”

Jisung makes a little gurgling sound. Felix scrunches his nose.

The tiniest of smiles slides across Chan’s face. Yes. They’ll make it together.

He takes a breath, then heads back inside.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Chan, he’s going to need it :/)

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 12: What Happens in Alleyways

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Sorry it's a lil short, it's more of a transition chapter to actually jumping into this case and Reader's now even more confusing "relationship" with Hotch. Things get kinkier and angrier and more explicit from here, but I'll do my best to tag stuff. Thanks for your patience as always, guys, especially amidst the dumpster fire that is current events right now <3 Your reblogs and tags slay me and I love it.

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Turns out, the world doesn't stop on its axis just because you had sex with your boss. You’re unsure whether or not that’s a good thing.

Words: 1,882

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Violence, dark themes, explicit sexual content. More specific warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You awoke to the dim light of the dawn, rain gently pattering on the windows, and the blaring sound of Hotch’s ringtone three feet from your face.

“Jesus christ, old man,” you groaned, blinking your eyes open, “turn your hearing aids up.”

Already sitting up in bed, he paused with the phone halfway to his ear.

Shit. You were being too casual - waking up in his bed, joking with him. Acting like you belonged there. You didn’t know how he felt about what happened, for all you knew he regretted every second and-

“You’re paying for that later,” he smiled before answering the call.

The playful threat filled you with relief before it made your stomach flip, and the memories of last night came flooding back. His body, his eyes, his hands all burned inside your eyelids as if you’d been staring directly at the sun. You’d never been in this situation before - waking up next to someone you’d spent the night with and desperately hoping it was the first time rather than the last. But you’d also never felt your body sing with the white-hot pleasure it did when it was touched by the seemingly unattainable man who did so last night, so. There was that.

The low rumble of his voice brought you back to the present, and you looked up at his face to find it was twisted up in concentration, resignation, and something else.

“I’ll be right down,” he said, standing up swiftly and pulling his work clothes on with practiced speed. “Don’t let anyone touch anything.”

He shoved his phone in his suit pocket and looked at you, still tangled up in his sheets.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” he said, terse. “There’s a body in the alley outside the building.”

“Outside this building?”

“Yes,” he responded, “and there’s a note.”

As he swept out the door, leaving you reeling, you realized what the other expression on his face was. Fear.

***

Hotch had gotten ready and exited the apartment before you had even processed the situation, and your mind was racing a mile a minute as you flung yourself out of bed and scrambled to get dressed. The logical assumption, of course, was that the stalker had left the body. People didn’t just end up dead in alleyways in this part of town, and certainly not in the middle of a rainstorm mere floors from where the BAU Unit Chief slept - not without a reason.

You threw on your coat and boots, forgoing contacts and makeup in favor of your glasses and a hat to cover the tangled mess last night’s tryst had made of your hair. Without even pausing to look in a mirror, you scurried down the stairwell and exited the lobby into the cold October wind.

It was easy to tell which alley the body occupied - there were an excess of thirty people milling in and out of the space to the right of the building. Crime scene investigators, policemen, and other personnel talked in hushed voices. You spotted a clearing in the sea of people and knew that’s where the victim would be, given a wide berth per Hotch’s instruction.

The team hung out at the edge of the circle watching Reid, who was kneeling in front of the body slumped against the side of the apartment building. Moving closer, you could tell he was in the middle of one of his spiels, gesturing wildly while the everyone nodded along. You joined the group that had formed around him and caught the middle of what seemed to be a hypothesis about victimology.

“ -no patterns, obviously, but if we assume similar characteristics would be present in all his victims, it’s hard to discern what statement he could be making. Positing a male in his mid-to-late twenties is statistically most likely, but stalkers of this age group also frequently have some sort of sexual motivation, and if the autopsy is consistent with what we can observe now,” he gestured to the body, “I don’t think that’s the case here.”

Throughout his speech, you’d been scrutinizing the victim - a brunette women who looked to be no older than 20, arranged in a half-sitting position against the wall behind her. There was no blood anywhere you could see, in fact, she barely looked dead at all, likely thanks to the below-freezing temperatures last night that had put a pause on the early stages of decomposition. Pinned to her shirt was a white envelope that bore an ominous message in bold, black ink:

“For my friends at the BAU.”

Not hard to guess who had killed this woman.

“Can you determine cause of death, Spence?” Prentiss asked, her arms folded.

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess…” he used his pen to push the victim’s hair to the side, exposing a neck mottled with stark blue bruises. 

“Anger, then,” you offered, speaking to the psychological drivers behind strangulation, “but I doubt we’ll find any sign of sexual assault. The unsub made it clear that his disdain is directed towards us; it’s not likely that would extend to his victim.”

The rest of the team nodded in thought, but Hotch looked at you in surprise, as if just noticing your presence. As his eyes glued on yours, his face changed, and he grabbed your arm in an unpleasantly tight grip.

“Open the note. I’ll just be a moment.”

Unaware of his boss’ sudden change in demeanor and the vice on your elbow, Morgan gloved up and reached for the envelope. Hotch, meanwhile, unceremoniously dragged you down the alleyway and around to the deserted back side of the building.

“What the hell?” you hissed, yanking your arm out of his grip.

“Did you fail to look in a mirror before you came down here?” Hotch’s narrowed stare betrayed nothing but contempt, and you scrambled to determine the implication of his question.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to take a shower before looking at the dead body? I did the best I could, it seemed urgent -”

“No,” he snapped, “I’m referring to the fact that your neck looks worse off than our victim’s does.”

You processed his words for a moment before the implication hit you.

“Are you talking about the hickies?! Christ, Hotch, I’ll get a scarf then. Just give me a second!”

“Please do. I’d like my agents to appear professional, not like they’re college kids coming off a one night stand.”

His words halted your stomp back into the building, and you turned back, furious.

“You put them there! How is this my fault?”

“I didn’t think I would have to be this explicit about the fact that I don’t want the fact that we had sex last night broadcast to everyone at the crime scene.”

You gaped at him in disbelief.

“Are you embarrassed or something? I’m sorry if you regret what happened, but you don’t need to lash out at me like this -”

“I’m not lashing out,” he interrupted, “I’m informing you of my expectations for my agents. Is there a problem?”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to smack that perfectly raised eyebrow and controlled expression right off his face. But he was boxing you in - speaking to you as your boss and not the man you slept with last night, and as much as you hated him for it, your sense of self-preservation won out.

“There’s no problem,” you mumbled, unable to make eye contact as you slipped past him and around the building.

You made it halfway up the stairwell before the tears started flowing. Had you really thought sleeping with him was going to change something? That he was going to ask you to be his fucking girlfriend, like he wasn’t the chief of your unit and you weren’t a twenty-something intern? For all you knew, he did this all the time. His level of skill in the area certainly made it seem like he did.

That wasn’t true, though, you knew it. He may not reveal much, but you could tell it had been a fraught decision to let your relationship develop the way it had. Perhaps even a decision he regretted now - and it certainly seemed so, given his behavior.

Wiping tears on your sleeve, you fumbled with the spare key he’d given you to his apartment and walked in. You glanced in the mirror by the entrance and your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. Hotch wasn’t exaggerating when he likened the marks to strangulation - indigo smudges, still peppered with the angry red of burst capillaries, circled your throat.

It was a juvenile, possessive, ridiculous display, and Hotch was absolutely right to label it unprofessional. And yet, the thought that you’d walked onto the scene bearing the marks he’d given you filled you with a thrill so intense you had to brace yourself against the entryway table and clamp your legs together.

Breathe. There’s still a fucking murder scene downstairs.

You steadied yourself and headed for your duffel bag, where you’d thankfully packed a scarf in preparation for the cold snap that was predicted to hit the state this week. Midway through unzipping your bag, though, your eyes landed on his dresser and the devil sitting on your shoulder, buzzing with a deadly combination of anger and arousal, whispered a terrible, reckless idea in your ear.

***

You practically skipped downstairs to rejoin the team, who appeared to be engaged in a lively debate about the contents of the envelope Morgan was holding. After gloving up, you reached out a hand towards him.

“Can I read it?”

He handed it over, distracted by another stream of consciousness from Reid. Hotch took note of your return and glanced in your direction before turning back to the conversation.

You pretended to read the note and waited for him to notice.

You waited all of three seconds.

He whipped his head back so comically fast you struggled to suppress a snort, and you knew exactly what he was looking at. A midnight blue cashmere scarf, nicked from his dresser and wrapped artfully around your neck to cover the bruises, just like he’d asked. The first compliment you’d ever paid him was in regards to this scarf; tentatively whispered when he’d worn it to a chilly 2 am crime scene. He’d accepted the compliment passively, but the optimistic part of you had noted that he seemed to wear it much more frequently after that.

You weren’t entirely sure what statement you were intending to make by wearing it, but his reaction told you you’d certainly succeeded at provoking something.

Morgan reached back out for the note you were still pretending to read and dropped it in an evidence bag. If he noticed Hotch steaming from the ears next to you, he didn’t say so.

“They’re ready to pack everything up and head back to the lab. Let’s meet ‘em there?”

Everyone nodded in the affirmative and headed back to the SUVs.

“You riding with me?” Morgan asked, nudging your ribs with an elbow.

“No,” Hotch answered for you, an unseen hand suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “She’s not.”

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[iamanartichoke]

(This post was inspired by a recent post by @kayura-sanada​ that I was going to reblog, but my own addition became so long and, frankly, off-topic to the original post’s content that I figured it was fairer to create my own post. But theOP I’m referring to can be found here and is a good read.)

Okay, so: this is a wonderful analysis of Tony Stark, @kayura-sanada​, and I agree that it’s concerning seeing this written by a psychologist (although I think there has to be a little wiggle room in the fact that said psychologist is basing their diagnosis on their own interpretation, and - I would hope - it would probably change if Tony Stark were a real person who was their patient. I gotta hope that).

I agree with all of your overall points regarding Tony, but I wanted to reblog this specifically because this post is such a perfect example of a larger problem within fandom and fandom wank. The problem is that fictional characters can be interpreted any way you want, sure, but there’s a line between supporting your interpretation with evidence from the source, and supporting your interpretation with stuff you just kinda made up. There is a right and a wrong interpretation. 

Here’s what I saw happen with this post: your response to the OP is lengthy because it dissects the OP bit-by-bit; it responds to the claims made in those bits with evidence from the films that supports a completely opposite interpretation of the character. And the response you got largely ignores all of that evidence and analysis in favor of a surface-deep response about open interpretations and how it’s “all just fiction anyway.”

And I see the same pattern repeat itself over and over in fandom:

“Character A is Trait B and that’s why they do Actions C, D, and E.”

“Actually, character A is more Trait F, and examples of Trait F are shown in Action G, H, and I.”

“Okay, but when they do Action H, they’re responding to Event J, but with Actions C and E, they clearly demonstrate Trait B, along with Trait K and L.”

“Well, but, saying they are/have Trait K is kind of a reach, and when they did Action H it was out of character, because in the same situation in previous films, they responded to Event J in a different way. For example, .....” (long post)

“I’m not reading all of that, it’s open to interpretation, and it’s just fiction anyway.”

Later, rinse, repeat.

And it’s like, look, yes, you can interpret the characters however you want. Fandom is supposed to be a fun, engaging space where fans are inspired to create new works and discuss all aspects of the source. Headcanons exists because of open character interpretation. Shipping exists because of open character interpretation. Rarepairs and alternate universes and ‘there was only one bed!’ and lots of tropes exist because of open character interpretation. 

Without that open freedom to engage with the source/characters in whatever way makes you happy, fandom wouldn’t be what it is, and I would never want to discourage that. 

That all said, it is possible that someone’s interpretation is wrong. That the way they imagine the character or the way they’re interpreting the character’s words and actions is a contrast to what’s really supposed to be going on in the scene or with the overall arc. The wrongness can come from any number of things - interpreation being colored by personal experience, preferences, projection, whatever.

In the case above, the psychiatrist is viewing Tony Stark through a lens of what they already decided the character is: a case of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. They took that lens and picked out (vague) examples of how the character portrays those traits.

This is fine. If that person wants to think Tony is a narcissist and that’s how they want to engage with the character and subsequent works (pretending that this was a meta post instead of a published article), then that’s their prerogative.

But upon closer analysis, the original interpretation kinda falls apart. The contrasting analysis takes a deeper look at the material and says, I don’t think what you’re saying is going on here is actually what’s going on here, and this is why.

But people don’t want to be told they’re wrong, especially in a fandom space, especially with something they hold dear to them (as interpretations can be intensely personal, and I know this). When the two interpretations clash, and one interpretation doesn’t really hold up to closer analysis, then suddenly, being critical of the source equates to disliking the source, and analysis is reduced to people just being negative and wanting to find things wrong with the source. Disagreeing with someone’s interpretation is taken as a personal attack. People get offended personally. The discussion devolves into ugly rhetoric, insults, or simply dismissiveness (”that’s nice but whatever,” “it’s just fiction,” etc).

And you might say, well, if you think someone’s interpretation is wrong, why are you trying to rain on their parade? Why are you trying to prove them wrong? Let people enjoy things! Let people fandom how they want! Let people write and create and be inspired in their own way!

To which I say, absolutely! Please, continue to enjoy the Thing and your interpretation of it. Continue to create through the lens of that interpretation. Create what makes you happy, fandom however you want to. I am a big proponent of “fandom and let fandom.” What other people like and dislike makes very little difference to me, and I’m certainly not under any illusion that everyone must see things the way that I see them or else they are Doing it Wrong. Nor do I take it personally if someone doesn’t agree with my take. 

None of that is my point. My point is that it becomes an issue that splinters and fractures fandom spaces when criticism and discussion are discouraged, when long analysis posts are mocked, when threads are hijacked, when it gets to a point where disagreeing with someone’s take on a Thing cancels them - to you - as a person. Because you miss out. You miss out on discussion, and on engaging with creative fanworks, and widening your fandom circle.

Instead, the circle just narrows, and there’s an underlying sense of hostility that colors every interaction you have. And it makes it not fun for anyone.

People need to be more open to the idea that there is, in fact, a right and a wrong side to most arguments. They need to be willing to defend their argument in a way that holds up and, if they don’t want to defend their interpretation, that’s fine - more power to you - but they need to then stop making fun of and being generally shitty to those who disagree.

People need to stop pretending that analysis and critical thinking don’t matter. They need to stop pretending that “fiction” is this vague concept that has no bearing on the real world and shouldn’t be taken seriously. Fiction shapes our world, and art imitates life. Being unable to think critically about fiction indicates a larger issue of being unable to think critically about the things that do matter in the real world, like science and poltiics. 

Just look at what this country has become. Each side believes it is the correct side, the “winning” side, but one of them is supported with verifiable facts and evidence and one isn’t, and when the one that isn’t is confronted with the fact that they are wrong, they either dismiss the argument entirely or go and find “alternative facts” from unreliable sources they can point to and say, see? A, B, C, D, and E may say I’m wrong, but F says I’m right, so fuck you.

I’m certainly not saying that fandom should be taken as seriously as politics, but I am saying that if people were more amenable to changing their minds or even just recognizing that criticism isn’t an attack and it’s not personal if someone dislikes a Thing that you feel passionate about - or vice versa - then maybe we’d have a better fandom space for all to enjoy. 

And I do try not to be a hypocrite. I am open to changing my mind on positions I’ve taken in fandom - if the analysis and the evidence convince me that there’s another way to look at it. If someone is telling me I’m wrong, and they tell me why it’s wrong (yes, in detail), then I’m more than happy to take a second look. Maybe it will change my mind; maybe it will simply be something I’m cognizant of while I continue to enjoy the material in the way that’s most fun for me. Either way, I’m not trying to hold fandom as a whole to any kind of standard I wouldn’t also expect myself to meet. 

That being said, this post is 90% me venting. Ironically, I don’t expect this to change anyone’s mind. I’m not saying there’s any one solution that will work for everybody or even that everyone sees a problem that needs solving. I’m just saying that I don’t enjoy fandom as much as I used to, and this particular pattern of "wank” (for lack of a better word) is the reason why. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Kismet {6}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot Heavy, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Flirtation

Words: 4.5k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

-Henry-

He couldn’t believe you had this effect on him. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else but you since bumping into you now more than three weeks ago. He thought the weeks you were in England and him in LA would have lessened how he was beginning to feel, but it hadn’t. Then he expected after a few dates that he would have realized that he was working himself up, but one date turned into two and another.

 Every time you opened your mouth, he found something else to mesmerize him. If it wasn’t the way you spoke about your friends and family, it was your intellect. If it wasn’t that, it was your sense of humor or your cynical side. There was nothing about you that he tired of. You were fascinating, and he wanted to be around you more and more. That was what took him off guard. He tired quickly, and usually, after a few dates, he usually found characteristics that had him fading into the night.

He knew it was only a matter of time since meeting to exchange phones before you kissed. Every second he was tempted to claim your lips; every minute, he found himself either staring at them or inching closer. He was surprised you hadn’t been able to tell. He felt so transparent and open. It wasn’t a familiar feeling for him. He liked to be cautious of those he spent his time with because no one was ever who they said they were. Everyone had a hidden agenda. He didn’t feel that way about you.

 The minute you kissed him, he had no idea how he remained in control. Every internal instinct told him to push you against those cave walls and rip your dress off of you. His palms itched to feel your skin underneath, but he wanted far more than your body. He knew that the minute the first “goodbye Henry” came out of your mouth. He wanted so much more that he didn’t dare voice or confront—not yet at least.

 “What in the world has got your attention?”

 Turning, he found Halley, Nik’s wife approaching him with a bright smile on her face. Once she plopped down beside him, he returned it. “Nothing—work,” he lied.

 “You should have told me that you were coming by earlier. I would have had Kal bathed and nice for you.”

 He looked out to see Kal speeding through the dog park and the obstacles that were laid out. He may be a bear of a dog, but he was agile as the most athletic pup.

 “It’s okay. I stopped by the house; Nik said you were here. I don’t mind.”

 “How long you in town for?”

 He shrugged. When he considered work, it could be weeks or days, but now there was you. Right?

 “Uh--,” he began rubbing the back of his neck. “Not sure. I left LA a few days ago and had to fly to Prague.”

 Halley observed him for several long moments. When his eyes met hers, she gave a contrite grin before she looked down. “You look tired, Hen.”

 Sighing, he nodded. He felt tired.

 “Yeah. I just have to push on for a few more weeks then a holiday.”

 She nodded, and like a mack truck in came Kal crashing into him, knocking the wind out of his lungs to lick all over his face.

 “Hey, buddy. How are you? I missed you too, yes I did.” Kal kept licking at his face and nipping him on his excited state. He couldn’t keep his laughter back any longer.

 For the next several minutes, he sat on the bench, embracing his best friend that he hadn’t seen in a few weeks. He hated traveling without Kal. He truly was one of the only comforts he had in his busy life.

 “You think you want to come over for dinner tonight? I have a friend I’d love to introduce you to,” Halley mentioned.

 Scoffing, he shook his head. Nik, Halley, Piers, and Amee had tried several times to hook him up with one of their friends, and none of them had ever been a success. It all came back to those hidden motives he couldn’t trust. Plus, none of them ever seemed to get past the celebrity thing. It was really a thing of fascination for many.

 “No, I think I’m just going to lounge with Kal tonight.”

 Halley nodded and stood just as he did after harnessing Kal back onto his leash.

 “Thank you, Halley, I appreciate you guys looking after him.”

 “You’re kidding; we’re family, Hen. Plus, the boys love Kal. He’s such a good boy,” she said as she scratched behind his ear. Like the good boy he was, Kal sat there happily accepting the affection.

 After a quick hug, he was on his way to gather some groceries for a quick dinner. London was his town, and unlike America, he was left alone for the majority of the time. The only time he was approached was when he had some project looming for release, and the press had been rampant with promotion. Otherwise, he would walk down the street and have people recognize him but let him carry on with his day. Celebrity was handled differently by the Brits.

When he made it home, he began Kal’s grooming routine, which went on for almost two hours. Once that was complete, he worried about his own hygiene then began cooking dinner as he had the TV on in the background. When he was home, things were relatively quiet. He was a simple kind of man. He wasn’t into the extravagant thing many celebrities were. The most he’d splurged on was probably tech products. If it was a six thousand dollar gaming computer, he had to have it, or a collector’s building item, he owned it within days, or if it were a motorcycle, he’d splurge. The fancy clothes and everything else didn’t appeal to him, as did extravagant women.

 That was before you. He could tell you were as extravagant as they came, but he could also feel that there was more to you than that. There had to be; he couldn’t be wrong there. Grabbing his phone, he scrolled to your contact and paused. This would be the fourth time he’d called you in the last two days. The fourth time he’d called with no answer. The first two times, he didn’t worry about optics because he knew just as he was busy you were probably even more so. The third time a nagging feeling took over that you were dodging his calls.

 The first few days after he left LA, you answered. You’d talk for hours as if neither of you had anything better to do. When your conversations ended, you’d text throughout the day with only short lags between due to time zones. That went on for three days. By day four, the legs stretched. You didn’t call back as much until you’d stopped picking up altogether. Today was day six. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong.

 Tapping your number, he left it on speakerphone as he stirred the mushroom gravy for his pot roast dinner. It rang once, twice, and a third before it went to voicemail. Sighing, he dropped his head back. He’d left you two messages already. He wasn’t inclined to leave another. Once he ended the call, he focused on the meal before him and not the feeling of rejection beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

 ~~~~~~~~~

 -Aliya-

-Two Days Later-

It was unseasonably warm for April in New York. It was pushing seventy degrees and had been for the last three days. It wasn’t something you were mad at or even complaining about because you’d rather warm weather to model in the rain and snow. Thanks to the weather, your shoots had gone down without any problems or delays for the last three days. That meant you had a little time to yourself. Tonight you found yourself enjoying that time.

 “So you need to tell us what’s going on with hunka hunka fine man,” Amaya began.

 Rolling your eyes, you sighed then finished your glass of wine before filling it again. “Nothing, god.”

 “What do you mean? Last we talked, you went to exchange phones, and Leece said you stayed for dinner, and we found out about how it was. What then?”

 Debating in your head if you should even go down this route, you took a mouthful of your wine. You couldn’t even stop your smile when you thought of him. “He asked me out again, and I went. We ate, talked, then he took me to the beach to this—amazing cave and then he took me home,” you cliffs noted.

 Amaya didn’t look convinced at all. “Wait. He took you home? He saw your house?” Her eyes were bugged to match the shock on her face.

 “It’s no big deal. He didn’t go in or to the door,” you lied again while pushing to the side that it was, in fact, a big deal.

 “Oh my god! You broke a rule,” she accused.

 Rolling your eyes again, you tried to push down the anxiety that the accusation brought on.

 “I guess I shouldn’t tell you I broke the no kissing on the second date rule, huh.”

 The loudness of their gasps had so many eyes drifting to your table. Both Amaya and Alicia sat there, stunned and speechless. You didn’t blame them. This was unheard of.

 “Who did it?” Placing your glass down, you looked to Alicia to answer her question. “He went for it, and I stopped him, then—I let him.”

 No one spoke. You just knew they were about to make this an even bigger deal. “It’s not a big deal,” you anxiously lied again as your anxiety continued to rise. “We won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

 “What! Why?”

 “Because he has drama. He’s juggling two women. I will not be the third.”

 “Oh god,” Amaya lamented as she rolled her eyes in unison with you.

 As you rolled your eyes to the right, they landed on Henry, who was approaching your table.

 “Oh holy mother of Christ,” you muttered just as he made it to the table.

“I thought I saw you,” Henry started.

 Recovering like the pro you were, you plastered a smile on your face. “Hi.”

 “How are you?” Henry bent to kiss your cheek, allowing you to smell him and have all the memories you’d tried to push down resurface. A moan escaped you before you could stop it. You were sure he heard it. When he pulled back, the look on his face confirmed it.

 “Good, good—busy, so busy.”

 He smirked and nodded. “I figured. I’ve been calling and texting. No response,” he threw out. You were impressed at his candor. Usually, people would keep pleasantries or even not let it be known. You liked that he called you out on it, but you didn’t like the position it put you in.

 “Work. It’s been so crazy,” you weakly lied.

 Thankfully Amaya clearing her throat brought the attention from you, giving you a needed reprieve.

 “Eh-em!” Shaking your head, you took several breaths and looked him over. He looked good.

 “Introduce us to your friend, Aliya,” Amaya badgered in her sweet voice.

 “Of course. Amaya, Alicia meet Henry, a friend of mine. Henry, these are my best friends.”

 For an inkling of a second, you saw a disappointed look on his face before it was gone and replaced with a pleasant smile.

 “Henry,” Alicia began.

 “Everyone usually calls me Hen or Henners,” he informed.

 “Oh, Henners. Interesting,” Amaya gently teased with a smile.

 “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ladies,” Henry said, slightly bowing his head in that respectful, charmingly British way.

 “Join us,” Amaya insisted, jarring you completely.

 “Uh—I’m sure Henners has other things to do than sit with a couple of chicks,” you averted. The way Henry looked at you had you closing your mouth instantly.

 “Actually, I was coming in for take-out, but I can stay.”

 “Great,” Amaya elated as she raised her hand at a nearby waiter.

 As the waiter brought a chair over, you finished your glass of wine, a sinking feeling settling in your belly. Just like your luck, the chair was set between you and Amaya, leaving Alicia across the table, the perfect location to observe you and Henry.

 “Are you ready to order?”

 “Henners just joined us, maybe a few more minutes,” Amaya informed the waiter.

 “It’s alright. I know what I want,” Henry announced.

 “Great. I’ll have the sriracha shrimp with mashed potatoes, please,” you nervously began.

 “Any appetizer?”

 “Chicken Samosas, please. Also, can you bring another bottle of Moscato? I’m sure this will be gone in no time,” I requested as I poured myself another glass.

 The waiter took Amaya’s and Alicia’s order leaving Henry’s for last due to his insistence that the ladies went first. Damn his charm, you thought. Once he’d ordered his food and the waiter left to put it in, Amaya wasted no time beginning the conversation.

 “I saw the first trailers for The Witcher and the teaser trailer for the next era in Superman and Justice League. I am looking forward to both of them.”

 His smile was soft. “Really? Thank you. I appreciate that.”

 “Are you in New York for business or pleasure?” As she said, “pleasure,” she raised her eyebrows.

 Oh, dear God, you thought, beginning to toy with your wine glass.

 “Business and promo. I left my pleasure in LA,” Henry stated, slipping a glance your way. Your belly fluttered.

 “Oh no. I’m sorry. Maybe you can find some in New York,” Amaya added.

 Henry took a sip of his wine and shrugged. “I wasn’t optimistic about that, but here I stand corrected bumping into you ladies.”

 Alicia and Amaya giggled like love-struck schoolgirls. You wanted to laugh. You were able to not laugh outright, but you couldn’t stifle the snort that escaped.

 “Guys watch out, Henners here is British. The capital of charm,” you teased.

 Henry smiled again. “Not my fault the British were bred somewhat different than the rest of the world. We appreciate simpler things, charm being one of them and beautiful women.”

 “Cocky,” Alicia slid in.

 “Not at all. I prefer confident,” he finished raising his glass to her. Smirking, you took a mouthful of wine.

 “How can you stand to work for so long and so frequently away from family and friends?”

 Henry looked to Amaya before he answered. You liked one thing; he paid attention to who he spoke to, ensuring they felt seen. “It used to be tough. I dealt with loneliness a lot but not so much anymore. I’ve learned how to handle it.”

 After another sip of wine, you butted in. “Plus, there are a slew of beautiful women dying to aid you with your loneliness. It helps, I bet.”

 The look he gave you was a questioning one, but he didn’t speak. He just shrugged with a smirk.

 “I don’t notice the women. They all tend to blend together, same attitudes, same motives, same antics. Finding someone original in the sea is rare, and I have better things to do than vet.”

 “So, you’re not looking for love?”

 It was a bold question, but it was right up Amaya’s alley.

 “Never looking,” Henry answered.

 “That’s good. When you’re not looking is usually when it finds you,” Alicia added.

 “Or something finds you. Love, lust, whichever,” you argued before you took another sip of wine.

 “Don’t mind cynical Cathy over there,” Amaya taunted.

 “It’s all right. Usually, those who are cynics just need something to believe in or to be showed they can believe in something—or someone,” Henry said as he stared at you.

 No one spoke or moved for quite a while. You were the one to look away and knock back the rest of your wine.

 The remainder of dinner was interesting. Henry continued to charm your friends with almost every word out of his mouth. It didn’t take long for you to see how much they liked him. Part of you was happy because who didn’t want their friends to like someone that was showing attention. The other part of you hated it. They were typically a lot more difficult to melt than this.

 You found yourself watching him, and his body langued for the rest of the night. If he moved his hands as he spoke, your eyes were focused there, noting how large and strong they looked. If Henry took a sip of wine or a bite of his steak, you focused on his mouth. From there, your mind always went back to the feel of his lips on yours. You were still attracted to him.

 The week had done nothing. There was a reason why you’d created distance and space from him. It was supposed to serve a purpose, and you thought it had, but this dinner proved nothing had changed. You wanted him, and it was driving you crazy.

 By the time the three of you left the restaurant after Henry paid, the night air was cool but not cold. It was pleasant. When you turned, he was there, and your friends had mysteriously wandered off. Henry took a few steps closer to you, leaving only a few inches between you.

 “How are you?”

 “I’m good. You?”

 Henry took a deep breath and stuffed his hands into his pocket. You remembered that move. Biting your bottom lip, you glanced at his lips.

 “Feeling the burn out coming.”

 Nodding, you answered, “I understand.”

 “I’ll be in town for one more day. I fly out tomorrow night. Would you want to do breakfast tomorrow?”

 There it was. You sighed, looked down, and shuffled your feet. “Okay.”

 “Pick a restaurant. This is your stomping ground,” Henry said with a smile that made you smile.

 “You remember.”

 He leaned in softly, bumping you. “I remember everything you’ve told me.”

 One simple sentence took your breath away. You watched Henry lean into you to place a sweet kiss on your cheek.

 “Good night, Aliya.”

 Taking a breath to slow your racing heart, you replied. “Goodbye, Henry.”

 He scoffed before he walked off down the street, leaving you to watch as he walked. Groaning, you bit your bottom lip. “Damn.”

 ~~~~~~~~

 -The Next Day-

With plenty of debate about canceling or keeping the breakfast plans, you gave in and kept it. After putting in way too much effort into your hair, makeup and outfit, you found yourself rolling up to the designated meet spot—Sarabeth’s twenty minutes late. Once you approached the restaurant, you saw him sitting by one of the windows with a newspaper in one hand and his phone in the other. Once he saw you, his smile widened, showing you his sharpened canines that were longer than his other teeth and slightly poked out. It was an endearing quality.

 As you approached, he stood to greet you, then kissed your cheek.

 “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

 “I’m pretty sure from now on I’ll be waiting for you happily,” he joked.

 Once both of you had settled, you looked at him, almost losing your train of thought.

 “Have you ordered?”

 “Just some tea,” he informed, motioning to his white ceramic teacup.

 “Tea? You’re not a coffee drinker?”

 “I am British,” was all he said.

 Snorting, you laughed at his serious expression.

 “Let me guess, Earl Grey?”

 “Now, I’m just cliché, aren’t I?”

 Giggling, you shrugged, pleased with yourself for guessing correctly.

 “Welcome to Sarabeth’s. Can I start you guys off with something to drink?”

 Glancing to Henry, he motioned to you to go first.

 “I’ll have an Earl Grey tea, please.”

 Henry snorted, making you smile.

 “Coming right up.”

 When the two of you were alone again, his smile widened. “You too, huh.”

 “I start my day with Earl Grey. Guess it comes from the British part of me.”

 “Must be,” he replied.

 “I saw the trailer last night. Amaya is right. It’s amazing,” you elated.

 His smile was adorable, but he looked embarrassed. “You think so?”

 Nodding, you placed your hand over his as reassurance. “I promise.”

 Henry looked down at your hand, bringing your eyes to it as well. Pulling back, you cleared your throat.

 “I’m excited. I’ve been doing this for the last year. I’ve put a lot into it, blood, sweat—everything.”

 His passion shone through, and it pulled you closer to him. “I can imagine,” you responded before you flipped through the menu.

 “I take it you’ve been here before?”

 “Yes, one of my favorites. The food is fresh and organic,” you answered.

 “So you’re health-conscious,” Henry filled in.

 “Not at all. I just like good food.” His laugher echoed around the small restaurant. You had to shrug off the shiver that ran through you.

 Hoping to change the subject, you inquired, “Ready? I’m hungry.”

 Henry nodded and waved the waiter over. Again, he allowed you to order first before he went ahead. Once the waiter got your orders, the conversation turned to work. He told you about the plans for season two of The Witcher and even gave some tidbits about the new Superman project. It was clear he enjoyed what he did and took pride in it. Many actors saw acting merely as a means for millions and fame—that was until you got that intrusive fame.

 “Your friends are great.”

 “Ha. That’s because you just met them,” you teased. “Over time, you’d be whistling a different tune.”

 “Sound like my friends and family if I’m honest.”

 You laughed together. “Mine too. Aren’t they the best?”

 Picking up on the sarcasm in your voice, he nodded, giving you a quirky face.

 The connection between you was evident, as was the attraction. It was something challenging to repress or pretend wasn’t happening. When you spoke, you noticed he watched your mouth and even picked up how his body swayed to you. It was similar to what happened to you. As you explained to him how you enjoyed traveling when you were promoting an album, his phone rang. Seeing as it could have been important business, you insisted he answer to his protests. Before he did, he promised it would be quick.

 “Hello?”

 The look on his face was instant shock.

 “Um—It’s—it’s not a good time. I will call you later,” Henry rushed out lower than he’d began.

 Thanks to the lowness of his tone, you could hear a woman’s voice from the call. That was all you needed to be slapped to reality.

 “Tomorrow. I’ll be home, and then we have to talk,” Henry stated. Your jaw clenched before he ended the call to look at you.

 “Everything all right?”

 After clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yes.”

 His smile was forced, but he forged on with the conversation. A conversation you were ready to check out of entirely. Pushing through the remainder of the meal, your only goal was the end. Once breakfast was finished and the bill settled, this time by you, the two of you found yourself outside together.

 “If I call you in the next few weeks, will you pick up?”

 Another bold question. Too bold, considering you’d just heard a woman on the phone. Sighing out, you tied your trench again.

 “Henry--.”

 Henry moaned then sighed out. “Chris, my name on your lips sounds so much more different than anyone else saying it. I like it.”

 He truly spoke what he thought, no concealing. Shrugging it off and pushing through your stupor, you stepped back and continued. “This has been fun. You seem like a really good person on top of being uber-talented. I wish you nothing but continued success in your career and life, but—for anything here—I don’t think it’s going to happen,” you said surprisingly steadily.

 His confusion was apparent. Tilting his head to the side, Henry’s brows knitted. “Why?”

 Quickly you searched for a reason deciding on the plainest answer. “Because it won’t work.”

 “Give me a reason,” Henry pressed but not in a disrespectful way.

 Feeling cornered, you straightened your back. “Why do you need a reason?”

 “I’m a man. I need to know the reason why I’m being rejected. I thought we were progressing on the same page,” he honestly revealed. You could see the confusion and hurt increasing in his eyes.

 Fuck it, you thought. “I don’t do drama or messy, and your situation screams drama and mess,” you blurted out.

 “My situation?”

 “Henry, I had your phone for two weeks. I saw the messages and calls from Francesca and Abby. That is messy and the potential for more drama than I have the energy for. I don’t do three ways. I don’t share. I’m not a juggling ball. I will not be juggled.”

 “How do you know you’re being juggled?”

 “That call in there. Was that Francesca or Abby? I’m going to guess it was Abby since you said you’d be home, and she’s sent messages asking about you coming home before,” you deduced. Henry nodded and looked down.

 “Downside to a woman having your phone for a long period of time,” you mumbled.

 “Have you been juggling me with Jesse and Liam? I’ve seen the messages and calls too,” Henry countered.

 “I don’t juggle. Juggling means one or both do not know about each other. Jesse and Liam know about each other. I don’t juggle,” you finished.

 Henry sighed and nodded.

 “So, you’ve been seeing the three of us.”

 “I haven’t, and that is my honest answer.”

 Henry glanced down the street. His whole disposition changed. Where he was warm and inviting, he was now cold and rigid.

 “So that’s just it?”

 Shrugging, you nodded. “Pretty much.”

 “Even though we both felt it.”

 Keeping a straight face, you proceeded. “I don’t know what you mean. The bottom line is I’ve broken three rules already when it comes to you, and I will not break this one.”

 With that, Henry nodded.

 “Have a safe flight. Goodbye, Henry.”

 Staring at each other for a few moments, neither of you moved. Henry nodded, and you took that as your out. Walking down the street away from him, you did your best to keep your head up and your back straight. You’d talked the talk, and now you had to walk the walk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch11)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Alright everyone I'M BACK ...And I'm so so SO sorry that I took so long to update. Over the past few months I took my first real break from posting fanfiction overall in a long time.

Before I posted this chapter, I actually ended up heavily editing some of the previous chapters, which I'd like to inform those who read the originals about first. (Currently only the Ao3 version, and the reblog version of this fic with the picture on top are up-to-date.)

* I made Tom overall more polite. I was of the belief that his politeness was not an innate trait, and without memory, he would be a bit more unpleasant, and then we could see him grow with time. I do still believe it's not an innate personality trait, but a couple things made me realize he really should act differently in my fic. * I made Snape treat Tom better in the interrogation chapter. Both at the beginning and end. I liked the ending with the Levicorpus spell, and I do kinda miss it, especially because it informed Harry's reactions, but I think it was just too mean, especially because of something I'm going for later. * I added a conversation with the other boy in the hospital wing. (By the way, if you go back to read that and can think of more things they should talk about, don't hesitate to let me know!)

...I think those are all the big things! Feel free to offer feedback on the changes if you read them!

I'm so sorry to everyone who was hoping for faster updates. I truly do appreciate your comments and support deeply, and hope that you will continue to read and still enjoy it. I would still love to hear what you think!! <3 <3

Chapter 11: The House of Books

“The summer? With you? And Harry Potter?”

Tom had been examining the objects Snape had brought him—objects which had apparently once belonged to him—and blinked, raising his head to look at him.

“Believe me, I am not thrilled about it either.”

“No, it’s not that—well, it is—it’s just…” He paused, running his fingers along the clothes laid out on the bed before him, then squinted up at Snape. “I’m trying to discern why this is a good idea.”

Snape looked away, seemingly wondering that himself.

“I think, with time, you’ll find that our headmaster has a very unique sense of what is good for others. He believes uncomfortable situations often serve for people’s betterment.” He looked off to the side and muttered, “Whether or not they agree.”

“What sort of ‘betterment’ does this serve?”

“I suppose he would like the three of us to…”—He exhaled—“get along.”

Tom raised an eyebrow a second time, as if to say Us? Really?

“Futile though it may be,” Snape added.

Tom bit his lip, internally assessing the situation as he also returned to assessing the objects.

It wasn’t ideal—that didn’t need stating. Tom had a difficult time fathoming why Dumbledore—who seemed to bear him no ill-will—would want him to live with one person who had a rather insurmountable grudge against him, and another who didn’t seem to like him much better. He wanted them to ‘get along?’ `Surely that couldn’t be it. There had to be more to it.

Was Dumbledore really so naive as to think they’d grow closer instead of hate each other more? Not that he quite understood why they hated each other in the first place.

“Is there a reason I can’t stay here over the summer? I wouldn’t mind.”

Clearly Snape would have preferred that as well.

“You no doubt heard at the Feast that there has been some question as to whether Hogwarts is entirely safe. The Board of Governors likely wouldn’t approve of a student staying over the summer until they are able to deny these suspicions. Also, the headmaster wants you to learn magic over the summer, and due to few teachers possessing a proclivity to stay at Hogwarts during this time, we must make other arrangements.”

Tom’s breath bated at the reveal that he’d be learning magic, his mind beginning to buzz. He tried not to let his excitement leak into his voice:

“You’ll be teaching me magic?”

“Do keep up.”

“So…” He sat back. “What’s Harry going to do?”

“Mister Potter will be…taking up space as usual, I presume.”

Tom stifled a laugh; he hadn’t been expecting such a response from a professor.

“You don’t like Harry, do you?”

“I’m not…particularly fond of him.”

“Is it too forward of me to say it doesn’t appear you’re particularly fond of me either?”

“I pains me to say you’ll have adequate time to learn there aren’t a great many things I feel an extensive amount of fondness for.”

Tom could already see it now.

“Consider it a trial period, of sorts.” Snape swept around the room as he altered the direction of conversation. “If you are able to succeed over the summer, you may continue your schooling at Hogwarts when the next year begins. How much you learn, and how quickly, will determine the year in which you are placed. That is, if you’re placed in any year at all.” He looked down his hooked nose at him like that was both the most likely option, and the most preferable.

Tom could tell hidden behind his words was the idea that this ‘trial period’ was about more than just how adept he was at magic. He’d didn’t need telling that he’d have to be careful in more ways than magical.

“Do you have any other business to attend to before we leave?”

“Wait, we’re leaving now?”

“I don’t come to the hospital wing for pleasant chats if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tom bit his lip. In all honesty he would have liked to stay and explore the school more, but he could tell Snape wasn’t the kind of person one could negotiate such things with.

He turned back to the items that were supposed to be his.

“Is this really all I have?” He asked softly.

Sure all the essentials were there: clothes, books, toiletries and the like, but nothing more personal. No pictures for his nightstand, or even a keepsake to remind him of home, of family. Nothing that could tell him a little more about himself.

Snape paused a moment before he replied: “All of which I’m aware.”

Tom didn’t say anything. Merely put everything back in the trunk and followed Snape to the door.

“Don’t you have anything to bring home with you?” Tom asked.

“Don’t you think a skilled wizard such as myself would have methods of sending it to its proper location?”

They spent the walk across the grounds in silence, which could probably be considered steely, though Tom didn’t mind. The grounds around Hogwarts, and what little he saw of the castle, were altogether beautiful, and empty conversation would only have dulled his enjoyment. He turned around, walking backwards, a smile creeping upon his face upon at the sight of the castle in its full glory. He came to find this wasn’t a school, this was a palace, a haven.

A—

The word home rose to the surface of his chest.

It occurred to him this was the first time he’d smiled since he lost his memory. Really and truly smiled.

The feeling wasn’t half bad.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”

Tom cleared his throat. “It’s nice I guess.” But he couldn’t stuff the smile down, couldn’t quite figure out what this feeling was.

He must be a student, surely. Otherwise, why would he feel such fondness for the place?

He didn’t think Snape would reply, and was surprised to hear, barely audible, “I always thought as much.”

They arrived at a wrought iron gate with winged boars on either side—(really living up to the name, Tom supposed. All they needed was a decent amount of warts on them). Once they had passed through it, Snape stopped abruptly and held out his arm. It seemed he was expecting Tom to take it.

Tom wasn’t quite sure why he ought to do this, (and was rather offput by the thought of touching this man). Still, he did as he was told and—

He felt like he was being pigeonholed through a pipe. When the journey ended he was in an entirely new location, and wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t feel sick.

"Apparating for the first time can often make one feel unwell,” Snape informed the doubled-over Tom in a way that didn’t signify he really cared.

As Tom regained his bearings, he thought for a moment, in the same way he quite liked the walk along the grounds, he probably would have rather enjoyed traveling across the countryside. It struck him, that, while this sort of travel certainly got the job done, if wizards had a type of travel more like flying; allowing one to see the view, but also get where they needed to go quickly, he would like to learn it.

The new location, however, was far drearier and less pleasing to the eyes. Rather than an enchanting (and probably enchanted) forest, bordering sunny grounds, and a castle whose majesty was unmatched (at least in his current memory), this was a grimy, cobbled street, like a dull pencil: grey, disappointing, and without its sharpness.

He was almost certain the place was non-magical in nature. He couldn’t believe anyone magical would allow their cities to collect this much grime and…boringness. Identical brick townhouses lined those streets, their chimneys spewing smoke into the air, causing a low cloud of what could be either smog or fog to hang over the place, making the air warmer and more humid than necessary. Snape’s house was the last in the row, (at least, he assumed it was Snape’s as it was the one they were heading towards), and across from it he could see a black river winding through the mist.

Snape flicked his wand, unlocking what was presumably his front door.

Often houses have a certain, indefinable smell to them, but when Tom stepped inside this one, he found it wasn’t so indefinable: parchment, and old shoes, and maybe a little bit of neglect.

He could have fooled himself into thinking he’d walked into a bookstore. The walls were lined with books, the sofa and armchair in the corner creating a false sense of coziness—(‘false’ because nothing about this man said ‘cozy’). It had the air of being one of those spaces that is cluttered, but to call it anything but ‘neat’ would be an insult. Like a library of a devout scholar: cluttered with knowledge, yet, despite the fact that the shelves are puking pages, it all seems somehow perfectly in place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Snape said in a tone that told him he didn’t want him to be comfortable at all. “Take care not to touch anything that isn’t yours.”

Tom’s eyes lidded. “So…don’t touch anything at all?”

“You’re catching on.” Snape smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes, not entirely sure Snape was joking.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

The words ‘your room’ were clipped, like the thought that it would belong to him for even a summer was repulsive. Though Tom could tell that before they arrived.

He opened a small door in the wall, which Tom would have thought another room, or perhaps a closet, but turned out to be a set of stairs.

After journeying up them, a hallway whose wood was in dire need of staining, dusty portraits whose stern eyes followed him as he walked by, and a decorative table with an empty vase upon it, greeted him.

The advertised room was small, and a bit stuffy, and a few of the floorboards creaked, but something told him he’d slept in worse conditions before.

Though it was a small house, they were able to keep to themselves. Snape was busy resettling into his house, and disinclined to give him a tour, and Tom, not having much to get settled in the first place, spent the time exploring his new surroundings.

He wandered around the library that was the downstairs, and the dingy hallways that were the upstairs. He took care not to enter what he assumed to be Snape’s room, as well as a few other locked rooms. He didn’t want to get on his bad side…if he even had a good side.

He quickly found he didn’t mind being around books. He had affinity for them, especially when their contents had to do with magic.

“Are these all about magic?” He asked Snape when he passed by.

“Some of them. It may surprise you to find most of them aren’t.”

“May I read them?” He asked, remembering Snape’s warning not to touch anything, as well as the fact that this was a ‘trial period.’

“If you cannot find ways to entertain yourself.”

“I’m sure I can. But you seem like the kind of man who appreciates silence.” He put his hands behind his back and smiled too pleasantly.

Snape pursed his lip.

They spent their time regarding each other as wolves encroaching on each others territories: they weren’t happy to be sharing the same space, but they couldn’t do anything but growl low until one of them made a move.

Later, when Snape made dinner, the action drew his attention from his book. Tom watched with fascination as Snape waved his wand with ease, and the ingredients floated and melded together of their own accord, like Snape’s wand knew what to say to them.

“Will I be able to do that?”

“A whole world of magic and you want to be able to make dinner?”

“Well—” Annoyance flared in Tom. “Of course I’d prefer to know much more exciting, dangerous things…but yes”

“Children are not allowed to use magic outside of school until they come of age…but, yes.”

The word ‘children’ in that condescending tone didn’t make him feel less annoyed.

“How come I’m able to do it, then? You’re able to teach me during the summer.”

“Dumbledore has his ways.”

Tom could tell he wouldn’t get any more information than that.

While they ate, Tom chanced a few more questions, and was surprised to find that it tasted quite good, and he thought he remembered someone once telling him good food does wonders for the soul.

He was glad to find that, despite Snape’s obvious distaste for him, and seemingly all things his age, he was cordial enough, and he certainly didn’t mind keeping to himself.

Tom was just thinking about asking when he’d start learning magic that evening, when a stack of books almost as tall as him landed on the table.

Flicking his eyes across the titles, he saw that each and every one of them something to do with magic.

“I expect you to have these read before before Potter arrives. Only then will I start teaching you magic.”

Tom leaned to the side to look at Snape and tried not to smirk.

“You sure this is everything? It doesn’t seem like quite enough.”

[divinaes-bookofsecrets]

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Techno Witch

Filed under: Pagan Life, Spells & Potions — Leave a comment

I work with technology a lot, including virtual reality, and it made me wonder what or how it could pose as some good use for magick and witchcraft.

At the start of being Pagan, many things I did were very offline. I read physical books, went to physical locations such as the library and metaphysical shop, wrote in my physical B.O.S., things like that. If anything, I preferred it that way, things were very much in reach and given the history of magick is very much more so on paper than in bytes, it made better sense to me.

But eventually, technology got better and easier. More and more resources were online, and reliable resources at that. Granted, there is still a lot of bunk and dribble on the internet. Why people like to pick up spells from random corners of the internet is beyond me. If they are easy to get and plain out there for the world to see and, even worse, come with a price tag, it is probably fake. Some witches do indeed do paid spellwork/pay for pray but not to the excessive number that exists on the internet. More on that later, but basically, tech made witchy info collecting easier. It has probably been a while since I have penned in my B.O.S. but, if anything, I have more of a Disk of Shadows (D.O.S.) now. I have particular tumblrs and tags that I follow or curate on my own that are informative and helpful to my works and endeavors. They’re sometimes really hard to find, and sometimes they are not (if you know what to look for). There are more digital groups for Black Pagans and other minorities/poc now than when I started over a decade ago. Due to the internet, there is better access to much better information about non-European cultures that is not filtered through the perspective of a random White academic slathering on a layer of their own personal bias to the details and calling it “correct, accurate and objective information”. People can do their own research and not be blocked by institutions or paywalls.

But there’s still a lot of bunk on the internet. Due to the pop culture sensation of “witchiness” (basically think of anything American Horror Story, The Craft and the Sabrina reboot has pumped out, add some culture-vulturing via “I am a bruerja” and you got it), it makes decent info still rather hard to find. Since books and old texts that may or may not be translated well or correctly are not that popular, it is easier to find people who, frankly, don’t really know much of what they are doing, they just really like sage, cultural appropriation, gothic clothing and perhaps nursing a drug habit. They’re all over Instagram with their filter-laden pictures, offering to cast spells and do divination (usually tarot, because, what else are they going to learn? Cartomancy? Numerology? I Ching? Elective Astrology? Not as popular) but don’t seem to really know much about ethics and the other boring stuff of learning actual, proper witchcraft. It’s easy to blame just about everything on Mercury retrogrades but if that person has never heard of an ephemera before, they probably are also dead wrong about anything retrograde as well. Spells are cool and mysterious (not really), reading and research is … well, how many pop culture witch characters have you seen buzzing around countless books going “I thiiiiiiiiink this is definitely super old school Congolese – liiiiike, way, way, before colonialization. And of course, it’s a half-page passage in an out-of-print book and features a next-to-dead language. So we should either pick a different spell, or start bothering really old people who may or may not remember such a language – assuming the invading White folks did not torch or steal their cultural history – oh wait, it’s sitting in the British museum, with an incorrect placard and everything. Great, now may we have to talk to stuck up, myopic, well-dressed thieves that think they’re not stuck up, narcissistically stupid, or sticky fingered because ‘I have a degree and institutional prejudice is on my side’. You know what? Killmonger had some good ideas. Someone grab some coffee, that is probably the easier option”? Outside of Hermione Granger, not really anyone in witchy pop culture is very “research is good, research is great, research keeps random entities you summoned and can’t get rid of out of your home and life.” So it can make good info hard to break through the ether. Nothing is wrong with liking pop culture depictions of magic – I get a kick out of Doom Patrol’s magnificent depiction of chaos magick – but it is a bit of a problem when people try to base their practice on movie magic. Yes, psionics is real, yes, magic is real but no, it doesn’t look exactly like the tv and movies. If anything, they can be a lot more stressful and annoying.

I think being a technology-based witch, for me, is simply involving technology in your practice. I have thought of the idea of making a virtual space for spellwork and personal practice but then I think about my track record with magick, energy movement and electrical items. VR systems are pricy and I have made electrical items go ka-put. And, again, VR systems are pricy. But others could benefit, especially those who may not have the space or safety to comfortably practice in the real world. You can make whatever you want in the virtual world and it can be your own spot. A digital altar, a digital casting circle, the list goes on and on.

At first, I wasn’t too sure of these things because, well, they are new. No one was using computers for such practices – or any practices – centuries ago. But all technology, no matter how rudimentary, was considered new at one point. All creations were considered new at one point. From the typewriter, to the wheel, to fire itself. Certainly the deities can be understanding of some of these changes. As long as the changes are relatively seamless, especially for some deities. For example, some sun gods probably would not be too keen on the use of cell phone flashlights vs. actual natural light sources, like a flame made from the sun’s rays. I imagine working with water deities would be stress-inducing unless you are very confident in the IP rating of your technology and trickster deities + internet is probably literal trouble if you do not know what you are doing.

Has all my practices gone digital? I don’t think so but I do think a vast majority of it has. It has been the easier option for me but I always bear in mind that it is good to at least have back ups and that not everything worthwhile is on a computer. There is still always going to be a need for physical things. Links die, computers break and sometime technology can over-complicate simple processes. That and not everything is on the internet, not everything has been digitized and some things are simply harder to find digitally because the metadata is not up to snuff or it is plain incorrect. Thus it is good to find a decent balance, even if that balance is majority tech with analog supports.

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