#tune in next week where i learn how to explode people with my mind

[kluskinoodles]

My first draft of the prev post.

That ain’t Silas! THAT’S MARK FROM ACCOUNTING!

HE’S ABOUT TO GO HARASS YOU AT THE WATER COOLER AND YOU’LL HAVE TO REPORT HIM TO HR 😭😭😭

[soulandunconscious]

dead poets in efteling

a/n: first hc post yippieeee!! i know this is soo niche and there are about three people who understand this but its been in my head for weeks and it needs out. if you're unfamiliar, efteling is this really cool theme park in the netherlands with a kind of dark fantasy theme. i was there yesterday and if you saw someone eating shit at the baron 1898 that was UHHHH NOT ME GUYS

first of all, cameron is extremely stressed out about wasting time/money so he wants to be there the second the gates open. If they’re staying in a hotel or bosrijk, he’s insanely anal about getting the extra half hour but they never end up getting it bc half the guys are still asleep

they go with mr keating (who had to pester the board for months about why it’d be beneficial for their education) and thank god because every single one of the guys is directionally challenged. if it werent for him they’d criss cross through the park all day

keating makes them sit at the fabula restaurant for like 20 minutes so he can drink coffee and plan out their walking route. cameron nearly has an aneurysm

everyone but cameron is running around that restaurant like children

charlie is hogging the slide, meeks and pitts are at the climbing section, knox is locked in on feeling the textures and the game where you merge your face with a penguin. spends five minutes trying to type in his email

neil and todd are mainly walking around trying to see everything, until todd gets jumpscared by the jumping snake. from then on he’s staying 10 feet away from any kind of structure in this building

cameron is sitting at a table with keating trying to explode him with his mind. keating is unfazed

when they finally go on a ride they go on fata morgana first

pitts is so insanely in tune with the present and his inner child that he fully locks in during every dark ride. EVERYTHING GETS HIM during the fata morgana. the negative energy makes him so on edge that he screams at everything 

everyone else is fine for the entirety of the ride except for the dentist scene where they all go ‘eugghhh’ in unison

they go on the baron 1898 next and knox is like eughhh i dont know guys cuz hes fucking terrified of heights but he won't actually come out and say it. they manage to convince him to get on cuz he's extremely sensitive to peer pressure

meeks and pitts are constantly playing no one knows (efteling heads up) in the line (in every line tbh) but they can’t control their volume. they’re always screaming when they get an answer right and it stresses cameron out

charlie wants to play with them but he's horrible at it cuz he keeps asking subjective questions

when they get on the coaster, knox is already having heart palpitations from the sight of the witte wieven. he then sees 1. how insanely high it is and 2. how theres a whole crowd of people on the ground staring up at them. right when the cart tips a little over the edge and hangs there, charlie (in the most sincere voice) says 'omg i think my seatbelt is undone!' n knox fully faints for a second

they don't let him go on rollercoasters anymore after that. he mainly rides the train and waves at every passerby

they go on sirocco (teacups ride). keating has mostly been keeping a neutral face and sharing history/poetry tidbits so he can argue that they have, in fact, learned somethng here. but on sirocco this guy goes HAM

hes 1. really strong and 2. obsessed with this ride so he's spinning it like crazy. he's in there with meeks and pitts who are having a grand old time

neil and todd are in a boat together and todd has this really blank expression. neil is extremely worried he's getting motion sick so he's constantly like 'are you good? should i stop spinning it???' and todds like 'yeah im good :)'. neil does not believe him and refuses to keep spinning it

the people who ARE getting motion sick are cameron and charlie, who somehow ended up in a boat together. neither of them are willing to admit it so they're both turning green and staring at each other to see if one of them will cave

they both end up puking

they go on droomvlucht and decide to test out the virtual line. when they get the notification that they can get on cameron freaks the fuck out cuz hes scared they'll miss their slot even tho its fifteen minutes. hyperventilating all like 'WE HAVE TO GO NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW'

while they wait for their time slot they go to the volk van laaf

neil and todd and meeks and pitts both go on the monorail. theyre on the monorail when their slot opens so they look down and just see a tiny little cameron waving his arms and screaming 'WE NEED TO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'

todd runs over the second they're off the ride cuz he's stressed, but the rest REFUSE to be rushed

knox has found the loof and eerhuys and nearly jumps out of his skin when vader laaf starts moaning and moving his feet

charlie would think this is very funny and start calling him freaky laaf if he werent stuck at the stairs that make noise, spamming the steps

when they're actually on droomvlucht, neil is constantly talking about a midsummer nights dream. pointing and pogging like 'OMG ITS OBERON'

neil in general chronically talks through rides. todd's content to listen

meeks gets jumpscared by the troll at the end and still has a horrified expression at the photo op

fairytale forest!!!

charlie is obsessed with everything that's interactive, specifically the troll king and the parrot. makes it say all sort of horrific things

obviously he's pogging at the mermaid boobs

also will not stop thirsting over the wolf. he is FRONT ROW at an evening with wolf even though he doesn't understand a word

the interactive bit pitts likes is the gnome that opens the door and just like. mutters at everyone. he thinks it's the funniest shit EVER.

todd is LOCKED IN at the fairytale tree. looks up at keating with these huge eyes as if to say 'thats u'

meeks has figured out how the app works and how to make kniesoor say ur name. knox is convinced it's witchcraft and then BEGS steven to show him how it works

i actually don't believe kniesoor knows the name knox but who knows!

they go on the halve maen (swinging ship) and cameron, still traumatized from the sirocco endeavor that he insists on sitting in the middle

everyone else refuses and since keating doesn't want anyone to be alone, he sits next to cameron

what cameron didnt really consider is that since the movement in the middle is a lot more subtle, it's likely to make you even more sick

keating's looking at him the entire time and going 'are you okay?' meanwhile camerons there like ._.

in the tips, a screaming contest breaks out between the two halves. charlie and knox start it and everyone joins in. ppl gets tired and kinda stops putting any effort into it at some point. as a joke, at the very end when it slows down, charlie says ‘imagine someone just fully yawps right now’ and todd just. does it

knox is mortified. charlie gives todd five dollars for the effort

in the vliegende hollander all of them are kind of tired and the line is stressing them out. they don't fully understand what the ride even is so when the dark ride portion starts everyone is kind of tense. to diffuse tension, during the fog portion, meeks yells 'OMG CHARLIE PUT UR VAPE AWAY'

they eat at polles keuken and neil gets the magic water

charlie is inspired and gets it too. nearly knocks over a waiter with how excited he is

of course they go on symbolica after

oj punctuel is camerons spirit animal. everyone wakling through the opening steps and he's like yuo guys... poor oj...

charlie DEMANDS to sit in the front row so he can press the buttons

todd gets terrified at the whale/fabelvis part. he just doesnt like things that are underwater

when they see polle they're like omg that's our guy!!

at the end knox spends all his money in the gift shop

meeks buys those cards with seeds in them but refuses to ever plant them

pitts buys a raveleijn sword

charlie buys a stuffed animal of the wolf

cameron buys a magnet

todd buys the book of fairytales and buys keating a pen

neil buys a droomvlucht puzzle

i have a thousand more ideas but i feel like this post is already WAY long so if anyone is interested in a part two lmk x

[tgon]

The Nightmare Room #11, Scare School | Review

Title: The Nightmare Room 11 – Scare School

Author: R.L. Stine

Cover Artist: Tristan Elwell

INTRODUCTION

William George Crush conceived of a publicity stunt in 1896 where he would slam two uncrewed steam engines into each other. Something to the tune of forty-thousand people showed up to watch the spectacle. Three guesses which State this was in. When the boilers exploded at the moment of impact, two people were killed by flying shrapnel. Wikipedia generously describes the outcome as ‘unexpected.’

The spirit of Billy Crush is alive and well online. In fact, MrBeast slammed a train into a giant pit earlier this year, but his kill count remains at zero ⁠(for now). Crush’s disregard for human life is more embodied by pranksters like Kan-Hua Ren, who made headlines when he tricked a homeless man into eating toothpaste. Shockingly, he and Crush both skirted jailtime.

There’s undeniable horror to these anecdotes. Stunts and pranks become terrifying when they’re taken too far. Thankfully, this next story is strictly fiction, but it taps into the same horror. Today’s entry sees a young man tormented by a relentless prankster.

STORY REVIEW

Sam was expelled from his last school after a heated “shoving match.” He’s right up there with Dennis The Menace and Two Gun Crowley. His new school resembles a prison, but this is the only place that’ll accept him. Sam is shocked when he arrives and is confronted by a tiny green monster. Shovers can’t be choosers, Sam. The creature tags our protagonist and runs off. If it stayed a moment longer, it’d be in for the shoving of a lifetime.

Sam gets to class and asks some valid questions along the lines of Why was that hall monitor green? Everyone else wants to change the subject. At lunch, Sam is horrified to learn his potatoes are crawling with beetles. Kid, that isn’t the only beetly surprise this week. He’s shocked once more by a secret message etched into his meal tray. It says: “READ MY LETTER: WHO WILL DROP FIRST?”

This is shocking to Sam because how could a beetle have written this message if they don’t even have thumbs? A girl named Tonya explains that the message actually came from an evil imp who has decided to torment Sam. I made a joke about a literate beetle, and somehow the real explanation sounds less plausible. Eventually, Sam has another close encounter with the imp. It becomes a clothes encounter when the little dude steals Sam’s coat. Sam responds by shoving that imp so hard its tail pops off. Sam is now doomed to be pranked to death.

Things get wackier. Apparently, people will send live animals to Sam’s house because Sam’s dad used to work in a zoo. Nobody asks for permission, mind you. He just randomly recieves animals in the mail. And it’s important that they’re with him because ????. This is how Sam’s family accquires a rabbit. The rabbit is only in the story so Stine can do a fakeout where Sam finds bones and thinks the rabbit was killed, but the rabbit has actually been taken to the top of the school flagpole. And the rabbit is only at school in the first place because Sam’s dad demanded he bring it to school to show off. If Sam doesn’t show off this rabbit at school, that’d mean the poor thing was traumatized by FedEx for no good reason. But where did the bones come from? Who was bones?!

If you went back in time and tried to describe this story, they’d either form a religion around you or burn you at the stake. Imagine staring at a pilgrim and trying to explain any of this. “Imps can disguise themselves as human, but they choose names that reveal their true identity. The DROP FIRST message that Sam recieved was actually a clue to drop the first letter in their name. Tim Poster becomes Imposter! I forgot to mention there was a character named Tim Poster. Do you smell smoke? Why are my legs warm?”

Sam uncovers an imp infestation, meaning there are at least four villains. If you’ve seen Scream 6, it was a little like that. This revalation comes to a head the night of the band recital. In front of the whole school, four imps encircle our hero and dance around him. Not a regular dance. A menacing dance. Sam gains the upper hand when he turns the ordeal into a silly dance. The whole crowd assumes this is part of the show. They laugh hysterically. Since imps can’t stand to be the butt of a joke, they wither away.

The principal congratulates Sam on defeating the imps and asks if he can help the school with its troll problem. This is explained in one paragraph on the last page.

THE VERDICT

On a blog dedicated to weird books, this is the weirdest one I’ve reviewed in at least a couple years. I appreciate that aspect of it. Then again, I wonder how I’d react if I read the book while experiencing a headache. I’d probably throw it so hard against the wall it’d blow clean through and smack a pedestrian half-a-block away.

Have a happy Halloween!

BEST QUOTE

“It’s war,” I said. “Me against the imp.”

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

[valdomarx]

La Campanella

McShep + Rodney plays the piano Rodney never could resist a challenge, especially when it’s set by Sheppard.

Atlantis is a place of many wonders, but Rodney's favorite is this:

In a distant part of the northern pier is a short, squat tower which he and Sheppard investigate on a routine patrol.

And in that tower is a large, unassuming room like a lecture hall.

And in the center of the room is an object seven foot long and three feet high, elegant, delicate, and familiar.

“Is that…” Rodney practically runs over to touch it, as reckless as that urge can be in Atlantis, but he knows this isn’t a weapon or a piece of broken technology or some dangerous machine. It’s a thing of beauty.

It’s an instrument remarkably like a piano: white and black reversed, keys slightly different lengths, but the same 12-step configuration making up an octave. Keys which strike strings stretched over a wide frame with soft hammers, and this can’t be a coincidence.

“How... ” he starts, and then he answers his own question. “The Ancients must have invented this instrument and brought the concept with them to Earth. But that would overturn so much musical history they’ll have to rewrite the textbooks, can you even imagine the implications -”

John does not look as fascinated by the profound repercussions of this discovery on the history of western classical music as Rodney is.

He waves questions of history aside and sits on the low stool in front of the keyboard, blowing away the years of accumulated dust. His hands instinctively settle into arches, his wrists loose, and he plays a few simple scales. The notes sound out clear and true, but -

He frowns.

“Something wrong?” Sheppard is leaning over the instrument, studying him and it with interest.

“This is tuned half a tone lower than an Earth piano. Feels a bit weird, that’s all.”

“How do you know that?”

Rodney affects his smuggest smile. “Perfect pitch, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Sheppard says, rolling his eyes.

Rodney looks around the room furtively, keen for reasons he can’t articulate that no one else should observe them, and he starts to play.

-

It becomes a habit, a place to unwind, somewhere they visit on off hours and in quiet moments.

Today Sheppard is flicking through a golf magazine while Rodney warms up with some Bach. The music is pleasing and orderly, and the sparse, bright notes explode in fractal-like patterns, unfurling and changing and becoming more complex the closer you look.

John tilts his head to one side and says, “You know there’s a whole bunch of classical music on the Atlantis server?”

Rodney grins. He did know that, in fact. Never get between a team of scientists and their file sharing. “I may have heard.”

“I listened to some of the Chopin you like. Then some other piano stuff as well.”

“Yeah?” Rodney picks at a fingernail. Something about the idea of John listening to music just because Rodney likes it makes his heart beat a little faster. “Find anything you liked?”

“A bunch actually. Have you heard of a piece called La Campanella? By a guy named Liszt?"

"Have I…" Has he heard of the single hardest piece in the entire solo piano repertoire? The fact he could never get those double stops right haunts him to this day. "Yeah, it rings a bell."

"I like that one," John says decisively. "It's nice."

Nice??? Sheppard thinks the most epic and demanding piece of all time is nice? Of course he does.

"You should learn to play it," John says casually, like he's suggesting they watch an action movie instead of a scifi.

"I should -" he splutters. "Do you have any idea how difficult that is? It's practically impossible."

John smirks and says, "I thought practically impossible was your specialty?"

Rodney is still spluttering when John throws him a wink and walks out.

-

And then, because despite being the finest mind in two galaxies, on some level he truly is an idiot, he stretches out his fingers and starts to practice.

-

It's not like he had copious free time to start with. But he makes space whenever he can to come to the piano room, chipping away at this ludicrous piece, bit by bit, phrase by phrase, over and over and over.

People think that learning to play is artistry, and maybe it is that too, but mostly it's a grind. You keep doing it again and again until you get it right. It's as much about stubbornness as about skill.

And stubbornness is something Rodney McKay has in abundance.

-

Liszt really was a sadistic old bastard, Rodney thinks sourly as he works on the right hand jumps until his fingers turn to lead.

-

Sometimes Sheppard comes and sits with him while he practices, and on those days he plays easier pieces, things which are familiar and casual. Not that John seems to pay much attention, but Rodney has the urge to impress him all the same.

He’s always having that urge around John.

-

He spends an entire week working on his goddamn trill.

It shouldn’t matter and it’s not like anyone will really listen to it. But it seems to represent something important — a sequence of paired adjacent notes, next to each other but never quite touching, bouncing off each other time and time again, a dance of two — though he doesn’t want to examine that too closely.

-

He doesn’t tell anyone else about the piano. He tells himself that’s because it’s convenient that he doesn’t have to share and can use it whenever he wants.

But really, he likes that it’s his and Sheppard’s; their own tiny secret in this vast and sprawling city.

-

He hears the piece in his sleep, and on missions, and when he’s working in his lab. It becomes a background hum of his brain, always there, a sort of yearning for the possible, the platonic ideal, the way that things could be.

He tries not to examine that too closely either, though the weight of the realization is becoming harder to ignore.

-

Eventually the piece is as ready as it's going to be. He scribbles a quick note during a meeting, folds it into a paper airplane, and throws it at Sheppard's head. He hits him right in the temple, and he manages to avoid cheering when Elizabeth glares at him.

I have something to play for you, the note reads. Meet you at 7? You know where. - R

He jots it down without really thinking, and only once he's thrown does it occur to him how soppy it sounds.

John doesn't seem too perturbed though. He smiles down at the note and meets Rodney's eye with a little eyebrow wiggle which Rodney takes to mean, Gonna impress me?

-

By the time John arrives, Rodney is all warmed up and more nervous than he's ever been about a performance. His heart is racing, and when John gives him a fond look and says, "Hey," it trips even faster.

Once he settles in to play though, there's a certain kind of mental clarity that settles over him. His hands know how to do this, he just has to sit back and let them.

His wrists are still tense as he sounds out the first few bars and then, all at once, he relaxes into it and lets the music carry him. Hours of repetition have made every chord, every melody, every insane and unreasonable jump into something almost effortless. He even forgets John is there: there’s only him, and the piano, and the music.

The music builds and builds, each section becoming more and more ornamented, more complex, more physically demanding, all at a relentless pace that sends most players reeling. But he's got this, he can do this, it turns out all he needed was a bit of motivation.

The penultimate section is his favorite: The technical parts are done and here he can throw himself into the wild, over the top glory of the final melody. And perhaps he shows off a little bit, catching John's eye and grinning at him, but that's all part of the fun.

The piece ends with a crashing, massive finale that makes him feel like a virtuoso, and then in a last few epic chords it's done, as tight and perfect a five minutes as you could wish for.

The final chord reverberates on and on through the stillness of the room, glowing out beyond the city and into the night.

"Wow." John's eyes are wide. "That was great."

Rodney preens, because that ineloquent little comment somehow means more to him than an auditorium full of ecstatic applause. Having John look at him like that makes the months of practice worth it.

"You liked it?" He's fishing for compliments, but he figures he's earned it.

"I did," John says, staring at Rodney's hands like they hold the secrets to the universe.

He looks up and blushes at having been caught staring. Then he deflects and shrugs one shoulder. “Honestly, though, it’s not my favorite piano piece.”

Rodney narrows his eyes. He has the distinct impression he’s been played. “What was your favorite then?”

"I prefer Songs Without Words."

"Mendelssohn?" he explodes. "You wanted Mendelssohn? Jesus Christ, I learned to play that when I was eight!"

John grins. "I appreciate simplicity in music."

"Then why on earth did you make me learn Liszt?!"

John has this joyous, manic light in his eyes, like he's having the time of his life here, messing around with Rodney, of all the things he could be doing. "I like watching you do impossible things."

He sucks in a breath. "I hate you."

"No you don't." John leans in, smug and delighted, and oh, Rodney is so in love with this ridiculous, infuriating man that he could burst. "You learned La Campanella for me."

"It wasn't that hard," he says quickly, because he has a reputation to maintain here. But John laughs and gives him this soft, teasing look, one eyebrow quirked at a ridiculous angle beneath the chaotic mess of his hair, and Rodney is defenseless.

"Whatever you say, McKay," John says, and Rodney has the feeling he sees straight through him. "Now play it again."

[pregnant-piggy]

Summer Games - four

Blaise Zabini x reader

masterlist

warnings: no pronouns used for the reader, mentions of food

A/N: the final part! I had a lot of fun writing something so light and without much drama and I hope you all liked it too! One more thanks to @omgrachwrites​ for the writing challenge and congrats on your milestone again -xxx-

written for @omgrachwrites​​ writing challenge with the prompts: ‘I can’t have this argument with you again.’ ‘But—’ ‘No, I’m done.’ and ‘Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought  I should move it so I could see you better.’

word count: 4.0k

Small rays of sunshine were peeking through the cracks in the curtains, lighting up the room Blaise was lying in. He rubbed his hands over his face and let out a sigh.

He was excited for today, to finally hear what team had won the Summer Games, but he was also disappointed that this was the last day and he had gotten nowhere with you. It was just like it had been at Hogwarts—there was flirting and joking and catching the other staring, but neither of you had ever done something beyond that and Blaise was afraid there was nothing more to it.

Groaning he got up from his bed and with little eyes he searched for his clothes. Draco was still asleep in the bed next to Blaise’s and Blaise figured that he wouldn’t wake any time soon. Last night you had told your friends that they didn’t have to get up early and Blaise knew that Draco would take full advantage of that by not coming out of bed until absolutely necessary.

Blaise sneaked downstairs silently, trying not to wake anyone. He was sure that you were awake already, but he didn’t know if your grandparents were still sleeping and he didn’t want to wake them. However, when he stepped into the kitchen he found your grandfather sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand, reading the papers.

‘Morning,’ he greeted Blaise and this one nodded back. ‘Sleep well?’

‘After Draco shut up, yeah,’ Blaise said.

‘He talks a lot?’

‘He whines a lot,’ Blaise huffed and then he shrugged. ‘You learn to tune it out after a few years.’

Your grandfather chuckled and looked up from his newspaper. He nodded to the backdoor with somewhat of a grin on his face. ‘y/n’s outside.’

‘Thanks.’ Blaise shot the man a smile and left through the door, stepping into the backyard of the house.

The garden was your grandfather’s terrain. It was full of flowers and plants everywhere, making it feel like you stepped into paradise when entering the place. Bees were circling above the brightest flowers, creating a little symphony with their buzzing. There was a small path through the plants that led to a little patio in the back of the garden, where you were sitting on a bench with a book in your hand.

You belonged in that paradise, Blaise realised. The green and flowers around you complemented you, making you even more beautiful than Blaise thought you could get. You looked so soft and delicate it made his heart sore and all he wanted was to look at you.

That, however, seemed a tad creepy to him, so instead he walked the little path and sat down next to you. You looked up from your book and smiled at him.

‘Look at you, awake so early in the morning,’ you laughed and closed your book.

‘What can I say? You’ve infected me,’ Blaise shrugged. ‘It’s your fault, really.’

‘No, I think that subconsciously you just wanted to spend time with me,’ you said, pricking Blaise in his chest with your finger.

‘Of course, and it has nothing to do with Draco’s weird snoring at all,’ Blaise said sarcastically and you rolled your eyes, giving him a little shove. ‘Don’t roll your eyes at me!’ he cried. ‘It’s really annoying!’

Blaise brought his mouth to your ear and started to make snoring noises. You shivered at the weird feeling and tried to get away but Blaise wrapped his arms around you and held you close. Goose bumps formed on your arms and the more you tried to get free the more Blaise pulled you closer.

‘Blaise, please, stop!’ you screeched and placed both your hands on his chest to push him away.

Finally he pulled back and looked at your flushed face. You were staring back at him with a laugh on your face and your hands still on his chest. Suddenly Blaise became aware of how much he wanted to kiss you now you were so close. He could see sun reflecting in your eyes and the shine on your eyelashes. You were so close and it would be so easy to lean into you.

It costed Blaise all his strength to let go of you and avert his eyes.

You let a sigh fall from your lips when you pulled your hands away. Blaise’s body ached to get close to you, but he knew he wouldn’t until it was clear where exactly you were standing. He didn’t want to cross any lines if it meant ruining your friendship.

You got up from the bench and extended your hand to Blaise.

‘Come on,’ you said with a smile. ‘The others won’t be up soon, let’s do something fun.’

/\/\/\

An hour later you were walking with Blaise through the village as it was waking up. You had gone to Hank’s and now you were walking with his delicious cherry pastries in your hand. Though you loved the pastry, unfortunately it also meant that you couldn’t hold Blaise’s hand.

Having fun with Blaise was easy. You always had something to talk about, jokes came naturally and he understood you even when you couldn’t articulate your thoughts. When you were with Blaise time always passed too quickly and more than often you wished you had just a little longer with him.

You and Blaise sat down on a bench opposite of the library you were at yesterday and watched the people walk by in silence while you ate the cherry pastries.

‘Do your grandparents know we’re wizards?’ Blaise eventually broke the silence after he finished his pastry.

You nodded. ‘Yeah, they do. It’s kind of hard to hide something like that from them,’ you said, licking your fingers. ‘But we don’t really talk about it. They know about Hogwarts a bit, but not much more.’

Blaise looked at you and raised his eyebrow. ‘So if they know about magic, why’d we spent the entire week like muggles?’

You burst out in giggles and shook your head. ‘I thought it’d be fun,’ you shrugged. ‘We’ve just had seven years of Hogwarts, why not be a muggle for a week?’

You turned to Blaise and he chuckled softly.

‘What?’ you asked suspiciously.

‘There’s jam on your face,’ he smiled.

‘What? Where?’

You brought your hand to your cheek and tried to feel for the jam, but Blaise pushed your hand away. With big eyes you stared at him as he rested the palm of his hand on your jaw and wiped the cherry jam away with his thumb. It was as if your heart was beating out of your chest as he held his hand on your face a little longer, the heat radiating from his fingers.

Blaise cleared his throat and he quickly looked away, cleaning his finger with a napkin. You snapped out of your stare and looked at the side of Blaise’s face. He had been so close and your heart still hadn’t calmed down.

Pansy had told you time after time that Blaise liked you and a big part of you wanted to believe her, but it was at moments like these when he pulled away that you started to doubt.  And now you were done with the doubts.

Carefully you placed your hand on Blaise’s hand. ‘Blaise—’

However, before you could continue, Blaise took both your hands in his and he looked at you.

‘Tell me to stop and I will stop,’ he said and waited for a moment. When you said nothing he continued. ‘I need to tell you something. Something that’s been on my mind for years, but I’ve never had the guts for to tell. I’ve played this scenario over and over in my head, and sometimes it was good and sometimes it was bad—really bad.’

You stared at Blaise, waiting in anxiety. One part of you knew, suspected, what he was going to tell you, but you refused to get your hopes up. No matter what happened, you wouldn’t walk out one friend less; you would never let heartbreak get in the way of your friendship with Blaise.

‘I like you. Like a lot. And I’ve always been too much of a wuss to admit it, but this last week I’ve… I’ve started to think maybe you’re feeling the same way,’ Blaise confessed and pointed his hopeful eyes at you. ‘Which is why I’d really appreciate it if you said something right now…’

Before you could help it, a big smile spread on your face. A warm fire kindled inside of you, spreading the heat through your entire body. You took a deep breath and shifted a little closer to Blaise.

‘I like you too, Blaise,’ you admitted and relief fell from Blaise like a breath he was holding. ‘And I too, have been a wimp, too scared to confess.’

Blaise brought his face closer to yours and let out a nervous laugh. ‘Guess we’re both cowards like that.’

You were so close now that your noses were almost touching. His breath was hot on your lips, inviting you to come closer. There was a sheepishly happy grin on your face, and you feared it would never leave your mouth again.

‘Can I kiss you?’ you breathlessly asked, looking into Blaise’s dark eyes.

‘Please.’

Then his lips were on yours. Soft, sweet, pouring with feelings that had been bottled up for so long. His hands were somewhere in your waist or on your back—you didn’t know. All you could feel were his lips and the euphoria in your body, exploding with sparkles.

You did not ever want to let him go, but eventually you reached the end of your breath and had to catch some air. There was a stupid smile on your lips and Blaise was wearing the same grin. Slowly you kissed him again, and again and again, until your lips were bruised.

The feeling you had, was growing inside you with every minute you spent in Blaise’s arms. It made you warm and giddy, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. It was addicting, perhaps even dangerous, but it felt so right. Every moment now was a moment you wanted to saviour.

You rested your head on Blaise’s shoulder and he pressed a kiss on top of your head, lightly squeezing you into his side. ‘You know Draco and Pansy are gonna be awake soon?’ he asked. ‘And they’ll be looking for us?’

‘I don’t care,’ you mumbled and moved your head to look up at Blaise. ‘I way rather be here with you than deal with a grumpy Malfoy.’

‘Well, to be fair, anyone would,’ Blaise chuckled and he earned an elbow in his side.

‘You know what I mean,’ you said.

‘Of course, darling,’ Blaise smiled and he kissed your forehead. ‘I love being here with you too.’

/\/\/\

The field had been built the same as the first day of the festival, with little booths on the side and a stage in the back. Next to the stage stood a large wooden board, empty of any text other than ‘leader board’. On the stage stood a band, admired by the few people who were standing near.

The festival-site was already full of people waiting for the results. Blaise recognised some other Foxes, including Mica and Ivanna, two of the people who had been in his and Draco’s team for the scavenger hunt. Mica was standing with their friends close to the stage, shouting something to the lead singer, and Ivanna was sitting at the picnic tables in the middle of the field, with her baby and partner.

The sun was starting to its way down in the sky, as it was approaching late afternoon already. An immense surge of happiness hit Blaise as he walked onto the festival field with your hand in his and his two best friends trailing next to him. He looked to his side and a big smile spread on his face unconsciously when he saw your beautiful face was complimented by the golden streaks of the sun. It made you look like the angel he believed you were. He knew you were too humble to ever take that compliment, but Blaise would take all the time he had with you to convince you.

‘What are you looking at?’ you asked once you’d caught Blaise’s stare.

‘You,’ he simply said.

You huffed lightly and hid your face on Blaise’s shoulder. He chuckled and pressed his lips to the top of your head, earning a scoff from Pansy.

‘You’re all cute and stuff,’ she said, gesturing to your and Blaise’s hands. ‘But if you’re gonna be like this the entire time, I might puke. So keep the cheesy stuff to yourself, okay?’

You laughed and pushed Pansy’s shoulder. ‘Fine,’ you sighed. ‘But for the record, you’re the one who wanted us to be together.’

Pansy rolled her eyes and said nothing, but her smile gave her happiness away. She really was happy that Blaise and you were together, and just her reaction to the news this morning was enough proof—she had leaped from her chair and thrown herself at you when Blaise and you had walked hand-in-hand into the kitchen. So no matter how much she said she hated to see the two of you together, Blaise knew that his friend was only happy for him.

As was the same for Draco. He was never really one to openly show his real feelings, but even he had formed a joyful, and one might even say proud, grin on his face when he had seen you and Blaise. Of course, he would never admit it, but that smile was enough for Blaise.

‘So what do we do now?’ Blaise asked you, once your group had made in in the field.

‘The scores won’t be revealed till later this evening,’ you answered. ‘So we have some time to do fun things!’

‘Like what?’ Draco scowled, looking around the field, his eyes sticking to the people in front of the stage. ‘I’m not gonna dance, if that’s your plan.’

You laughed and shook your head. ‘I promise I won’t make you dance, but there are plenty of other things to do! Come on!’

You led your friends past all the booths, introducing them to some of the villagers they hadn’t met yet or having them try some local food.

The afternoon was spent by playing games—such as tossing bean bags, popping balloons and Pansy and Blaise even took a shot at apple-bobbing—and eating all the delicious treats the people of the village had made for the festival. Hank was back with his cherry pastries, ‘the last ones of the season’ he had said, the baker had made big sausage rolls that Draco refused to try, and Francis, owner of the greengrocery, sold large, juicy apples. Most time, however, was spent at the candy-booth. Aroon, the person behind the stall, sold many different kinds of sweets, from soft caramel toffee and butterscotch to colourful lollies and jelly beans in so many flavours it could compete with Bertie Botts every flavour beans. You bought a little bag of fudge, Pansy had a go at exciting looking round, chewy candies, Draco went for the peppermint-chocolates and Blaise bought hard candy in a nicely decorated glass jar.

All content with the purchases, you sat down at the picnic tables in the middle of the field and rested your feet for a while. While the sun was lowering on the horizon and you were all eating the sweets you had bought, you filled your friends in on the people around you.

‘That’s Mr. Kendall; he’s come to live here a few years ago but he’s never really mingled with his neighbours. It surprises me he even is here. Oh, that’s Kailey. I met her two years ago on a trip to London in a pub with my parents. We got to talking and found out we both have family living here—hey! Kailey, hi!’ You waved enthusiastically at Kailey and she smiled back, with her arm around another girl. ‘That must be her girlfriend, Irene. And, see that old woman over there? That’s Mrs. Mavis. My grandfather had a huge fight with her last year that lasted from the summer to Christmas. I don’t even know what they were fighting about, but I do know that she refused to give in even when the whole village stood on my grandfather’s side.’

Blaise, who was sitting opposite of you, rested his chin on his palm and watched you as you continued to ramble about everyone around. While you started a story about Miss Withinger and her naked cat, Blaise smiled as he watched how you fervently moved your hands and pulled faces along with your words. He could just watch you for hours and he wouldn’t be bored. You had something so lively and comforting inside of you and at moments like this, it shone through, like the sun breaking from the clouds.

You caught Blaise staring and shot him an easy smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the music stopping. Turning around, he saw a tall, dark woman that he recognised as the head of organisation step onto the stage. She cleared her throat and the field with people fell silent.

‘Good evening, everyone!’ she said and flashed her white teeth as she smiled. ‘It is my pleasure to share with you the results of the fifty-sixth Summer Games!’

The woman started telling how the results would be revealed and Blaise scanned around the field. Between him and the stage was the homemade dancefloor and it was filled with participants of the Games. Many of them Blaise didn’t know, for he hadn’t met everyone during the games, but he did see a few familiar faces. Halfway between the stage and the picnic tables stood the Sly Foxes’ team captain, Alysia Gemeti. Blaise had only spoken briefly with her after their spat at the soccer games the first day and he had avoided her mostly. Although he wanted his team to win, of course, he felt that, with how Alysia had treated you, she didn’t really deserve the victory.

On Blaise’s right, at one of the other tables, sat Raoul with both his dads. The boy wasn’t really listening to the woman and was, just as Blaise, looking around the field. When he saw Blaise a big smile broke on his face and he waved at him. Blaise waved back and laughed when Raoul made a face like he’d fall asleep.

A big man close to the stage was roaring with laughter and Blaise felt a pang of anger in his stomach when he realised who it was. It was the man who had pushed you over in the soccer game. Blaise hadn’t seen him the rest of the festival and the man hadn’t apologised to you at all.

Before Blaise could anger himself more, however, the woman on the stage caught his attention as she was walking towards the board, where two men had gathered below.

‘And now the moment we have all been waiting for so long!’ the head of organising announced. ‘Starting with the last place! Drumroll, please,’ she said to the drummer on stage. ‘Fourth place goes to… the Raging Angels!’

There was a collective groan from the Angels and a modest applause from the other teams.

‘Well done, Angels! With forty-two points you were so close to being in third place,’ the woman on stage continued. ‘However, that place is taken, with forty-five points, by… the Oiled Machines!’

Blaise watched the man who’d tipped you over slam his fist on the table and curse to whoever was listening around him.

‘They don’t deserve that,’ Blaise whispered as he turned around to his friends. ‘They were awful players!’

You took Blaise’s hand over the table and gave it a soft squeeze. ‘I know, but I’m long glad they didn’t win,’ you whispered back. ‘They did three years back and they were insufferable the next festival.’

The applause for the Machines was a lot softer than for the Angels, but Blaise didn’t know if it was because the people didn’t want to applause for them or because they were too anxious for the next results.

‘Two teams left!’ the woman on stage said and her eyes cast over the crowd on the ground. ‘The Sly Foxes—’ a loud cheer erupted from the Foxes on the dancefloor ‘—and the Red Titans—’ all the Titans, including you and Pansy, shouted at the mention ‘—are battling for the victory. It was a tight race, with both teams neck-and-neck throughout all the games, but eventually the scavenger hunt set the difference.’

The woman gestured at the board, where the Angels and Machines’ scores had been placed at the bottom. One of the men hung two little boards with ‘53’ and ‘57’ on the bigger board.

You were still holding Blaise’s hand over the table and he tightened his grip. ‘Good luck,’ he muttered to you and you smiled back.

‘With four points difference, the winners of this year’s Summer Games are… the Red Titans!’

The loud cheering that erupted from every Titan around was almost as loud as the cheering of the entire Hogwarts student-body at a quidditch match. You and Pansy jumped up from your seats and shouted and embraced each other. You joined the rest of the Titans, screaming and laughing in euphoria.

‘Well, they did it,’ Blaise laughed and he patted Draco on his back. ‘Just like they said.’

‘Just like they said,’ Draco nodded and although he had lost there was a smile on his face.

All of the Titans went to the stage where you all received a plastic medal. The team captain, Wyatt Holm, got a big trophy and he victoriously held it above his head, roaring like a madman.

Music started to play again and Draco and Blaise watched as you and Pansy celebrated your win with the team. People came up to congratulate you and when finally the crowd became a little less busy, the sky was already turning dark. The band played a slower song and as couples started to dance on the dancefloor, Blaise walked up to you and put out his hand.

‘May I have this dance?’

You threw your arms around Blaise’s neck and laughed. ‘Of course.’

For a while you swayed in silence. You were resting your head on Blaise’s shoulder and he had his cheek on top of your head. Your hand fit perfectly in his and as you twirled slowly around, Blaise could only think that this was what he wanted forever.

You hummed softly along to the music and Blaise felt the vibrations in his chest. He looked down at you and the smile made its way to his mouth without him trying.

After a while you looked up and tilted your head to Blaise. ‘I like this,’ you said softly, like loud words would ruin the moment.

‘I like you,’ Blaise said back and you smiled.

‘I like you, too,’ you whispered and bumped your nose with Blaise’s.

You giggled and that was enough for Blaise to give into the moment and forget everyone around him. He captured your lips in a kiss that was sweeter than all the candy at the booth combined. His heart fluttered and he could have stayed in the moment forever, if it wasn’t for the music to change.

Laughing and with hot cheeks he pulled back from you. You started to dance to the new music and quickly you were joined by Pansy, who brought Draco along. He said he refused to dance, but you took his hands and swung him around on the dancefloor. Pansy took Blaise’s arms and danced around next to you and Draco, who couldn’t help the big smile on his face.

‘I told you the Summer Games would be fun!’ you yelled as you threw your head back.

Blaise looked at you and Pansy and Draco, and he had to admit you were right; the Summer Games were fun.

- - - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @harry-pottery-barn​​ @potters-heart​​ @kingalrdy​​ @missswriter​​ @figlia–della–luna​​@sexysirius​​ @awritingtree​​ @bi-andready-tocry​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​​ @ananad1​​ @treestarrrrrrrr​​ @your-hispanichufflepuff​​ @thefandomplace​​ @theeicedamericano​​ @girllety​​ @moonstarrnghtsky @swearingsolemnly​​ @weasleydream​​ @secretsthathauntus​​ @amixedwitch​​ @izzyyy-1​​ @gryffindorgirl​​ @kitkatkl​​ @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts​​ @nyotamalfoy​​​

MASTERLIST

[ninnodesu]

“Can I See You?” ch 2 || Modern!Thomas

Well. People apprently wanted more of modern!Thomas, so naturally, my brain conjured up a continuation.  GUESS WE HAVE TWO LONG STORIES NOW, FRIENDOS

I AM GOING TO TAG EVERY CHAPTER OF THIS FIC AS CICU IN CASE YOU WANT TO BLOCK OR FOLLOW!

TWs: - Mentions of rape - Broken bone - Mentions of cannibalism - Mentions of murder - Murder

He could see in your eyes, how the tears welled up and streamed down your face that you’d recognize him and he left. He couldn’t look at you at this point, couldn’t look at you cry because of him. He heard you cry behind him as he turned to go into his basement bedroom, his heart stung in his chest as he heard you beg and scream in fear. Closing the bedroom door, he proceeds to lean up against it, back pressed hard to it, eyes shut closed. Some kind of desperate way to make your panicked begging go away.

I can't, I can't, I can't, his inner voice chant like a mantra. His anxiety gets the better of him and he starts pacing, the wood under his feet already marked with a worn-out pattern left by his heavy boots after years and years of anxious pacing. A fierce battle erupts in his mind.

- I can't kill her - You have to, and you know it - No, I won't - Come up with one good reason to fistfight the old man about this - He would die and I wouldn't have to do this fucking thing anymore - And what? You'll live happily ever after with this woman? - I… - She would never accept the truth

Returning to his original place with his back to the door, he slowly sinks down to sit on the floor, one leg sprawled in front of him, the other resting under it. He's lost, he doesn’t know what to do. If he lets you go, you'll go straight to the police. If he kills you, he'll never hear from you again, he'll never see your face again, a sudden wave of intense nausea hits him at the thought of keeping the skin of your face to make a new mask. No, no he can't do that.

This is the first time since he had to butcher his first human that he feels genuinely lost.

He's mad at his uncle for wasting the low amount of money they do have on ugly hookers and booze, having Thomas resort to this way of living. He never truly did want this. The first time Charlie, or Hoyt as he wants to be called now - although Thomas never really did care about his apparent name change and still called him by Charlie to piss on his ego - talked to him about this, he threw up minutes after being left alone.

He still remembers the first time he got forced into butchering a person, just like it was yesterday, even though it’s nearly four years ago.

That day, he was on his way home from work, ending the day with bashing his old boss’s head in with a sledgehammer. The old man had disrespected his family, something Thomas wouldn’t stand for. Knowing that the security cameras were already turned off, he swung the hammer out of anger. He was mad that they were closing the slaughterhouse and he was hurt by the words that had been spoken. No one disrespects his family and gets away with it. Killing his boss didn’t wake any regrets. He believed the old man deserved it. The afternoon sun was still blazing down at his already sweaty form, propping his headphones on his head, he turned the music on full blast and lumbered home with no care in the world.

His right hand carried a memento of his old work, the slaughterhouse’s chainsaw.

As he had come out from a few trees up on the gravel road, a police car was parked by the side of it, the harsh blue and red light blinking to get his attention. Figuring he was caught, he took the headphones off, letting them rest around his neck and stopped in the middle of the road. His hair blew in front of his face as he took heaving breaths, waiting for the piercing pain of a bullet.

Bang! Thud.

What greeted him instead of searing pain, was Charlie standing behind him, brandishing a shotgun and looking down at a police officer with the head blown off. Everything after that is a blur. Vague memories of Charlie talking to him about the plan, the body was laid out on an old table in the basement. He’d never seen this side of his uncle before, so he tuned out.  Words like “ do it”, “no money left”, “can’t afford”, “ butcher him ”, “don’t tell mama” and the worst sentence he’d heard in his life; “ you have to do this, Tommy. For the family. We need meat to survive, boy.” echoed in his mind.

A loud bang coming from outside woke him from his memories. When he just seconds later heard your voice in a shrill pitch, he almost jumped off the floor and hurried out only to see you laying on the floor with half the table over you, the other half leaning against the metallic sink.

Jesus christ…

Being left alone again, your thoughts start racing and your heart along with it.

Where did he go? Why is he here? Does he live here? Is he going to kill you? Rape you? Keep you as a hostage? Was that his family? What? Why? Where?

It’s quiet, but you hear a faint shuffling coming from somewhere close to you. All you can do is lay there and look up at the ceiling, and to your left or right.

On your left you see what looks like a workbench, an apron rests on a hook next to it. It looks well used, stained with a dark and muddy hue of red. There's a sink and dirty towels hanging off the edge of said sink. The sight to your right, however, makes your stomach flip and turn on itself. There’s cleavers, knives, hooks. Huge bins stained with the same red hue as the apron. Putting all the puzzle pieces together, your breathing increases, teetering on the edge of hyperventilating. Thomas, your Thomas. The Thomas you’ve gotten to know, the one you’ve missed for these two weeks, the one who made you all giggly when he sent you the first full-face selfie of himself… a murderer.

As the adrenaline starts shooting through your body, you try wiggling a bit to see how bolted down you are. Your fastenings are tight and they burn as you try pulling your hands out. The metal just digs into your skin resulting in nasty burns.

Fuck…

That’s when an idea - or rather a small glimpse of hope - blooms in your head. Hopefully, the table is not bolted down. It’s a stupid idea, and you know that if Thomas doesn’t kill you, the table most likely will. But rather the table, than the man you’ve slowly started to fall in love with during the months you’ve talked. Getting killed by Thomas’ hands would haunt you more in the afterlife than anything else.

Gathering all the remaining strength, you throw the entirety of your body not bolted down to the side, doing your best to ignore the burning in your wrists and ankles. The first attempt yielded nothing major, the table moved, yes, but not to the extent you wanted. So you do it again, this time, the table goes down, and you with it. You feel the bone in your leg crack before you feel the brutal pain that explodes through it.

Your scream is high to the point where you feel your vocal cords strain and your voice slowly becoming lower, raspier. The pain is enormous, the throbbing pain in your leg thrumming together with your rapid heart. But - thankfully - your scream summons movement, footsteps, and voices. The most prominent footsteps, heavy ones, belong to Thomas as he’s the first one to your side. Even if you can’t see him, you see his clunky boots and grayish jeans, at least you hope that’s Thomas and no one else. All you do is sob onto the floor, your tears pooling under your chin at the pain radiating from your leg… and the burns around your wrists. It takes a full minute before you see big fingers curling around the edge of the table, a grunt coming from above you before your vision starts flying. He was lifting the table up. A loud, hoarse cry escapes your dry throat as the table thuds back into place, jolting your broken leg.

You're about to scream again when your brain catches up to the cleavers and knives hanging to your right but quickly after the first raspy pitch leaves your throat, a hand clamps over your mouth. The rasping sound is muffled under the big hand and you can feel it moisten due to your breath, but all he does is put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and plead with his eyes for you to stay quiet. Which you don’t, you rasp out a hoarse scream against his palm and keeps shooting daggers at him. My god, are you pissed right now.

Who the fuck are you, and what have done to the Thomas I know, you fucking animal!

You don’t quiet down until you hear that sliding door slide open again and an angry voice rings out. "Thomas! What the fuck is that racket?!"

Thomas jerks his head up as he hears Charlie's voice. He's not sure what to do, his uncle’s footsteps thud down the stairs and soon enough, Thomas sees him in full and exchanges eye contact. "This bitch is still alive? Why haven't you taken care of'er yet, ya idiot?".

Shit uh…

He glances down at your dagger filled eyes while trying to figure how to keep you quiet and talk to his uncle at the same time, needing both hands to do so. He can't sign to Charlie if his hand is clamped over your mouth. Letting out an annoyed grunt, he grabs the nearest towel and shoves it into your mouth as quickly and deep down he can without choking you, making sure you can’t spit it back out. Seeing you so shocked, and angry and… some other kind of emotion he couldn’t place, he got the urge to show you some kind of affection. Resulting in him patting your cheek, his huge hand basically engulfing half your face before walking over to the stairs.

"Well?", Charlie spits out his venomous words. Thomas' hands fidget a bit, nervousness taking a hold of him.

'I know her' The same signs that he kept on repeating earlier, annoyance building inside him knowing that his asshole of an uncle refuses to learn more. Making it almost impossible to have a normal conversation with him. "Listen, Tommy, I. Don’t. Care.", the looks between the men are like venom. "You were 'sposed to get to work on'er before mama gets home. You know damn well how much she hates when the cattle scream." Thomas really can’t help the smirk hiding beneath his mask when he hears that. He glances up the stairs before checking the time on his wristwatch before shrugging, pointing to it, and slowly signing two words he knows Charlie can decipher.

'Fifteen minutes'

That's when Charlie grabs the neck of Thomas' shirt and yanks him forward, the only reason he's able to is that he manages to catch him off guard. His breath reeks of alcohol. A clear cut sign that he’s drunk. "Listen here, you bastard. I've had enough of your defiance today. If you ", he stabs a finger in Thomas' chest at the last word, "don't take care of that girl, I will . And you know damn well I ain't going easy on'er." Charlie releases Thomas with a shove, making him stumble backward slightly. The final words from Charlie’s mouth before leaving the basement stings in Thomas’ heart. "I don't want to see your ugly ass upstairs until she's done for."

Thomas watches him leave and turn towards you, who’s still crying silently on the table.

His heart stings more and more the closer he shuffles to you. Sure, he had had nights where he dreamt that he would meet you. But not like this. Never like this, never here. He did not want to see you on his butcher's block. At the same time, he moves to remove the towel he makes the same shushing motion towards you, with the same pleading eyes as earlier. This time, she nods. And Thomas lets out a sigh of relief. As he removes it, you’re panting, breathing sounding almost more like wheezing squeaks. He goes to rinse the towel under some lukewarm water to pat clean the bloody gash over the eyebrow that got hit to knock you out before getting here. All the time, he feels a burning gaze on him, from eyes that are seemingly watching his every move.

You wince when the damped towel touches your eyebrow, a wound you didn't know you had greeted you with a sting, a small hiss leaving you. Your eyes are glued to the giant man, making sure you see his hands at all times. You want to speak, but your throat is dry and hoarse, figuring out that your earlier screaming has annoyed your vocal cords to a great extent. So all you do is watch him. He, on the other hand, is doing his best to avoid making eye contact with you. And it pisses you off, but at the same time, it relaxes you and makes your heart hurt.

Why the fuck are you avoiding me?!

The thought makes your eyebrows furrow. He’s seen you naked, yet can’t fucking look you in the eyes? You try thrashing a bit with your shoulders to try and get his eyes to yours, but to no avail. His tender way to clean your wound surprises you. This huge killer, this murderer, and straight-up deranged man are making sure not to hurt you, and you can't help but breathe out a laugh.

That's when he - apparently - seems happy with his cleaning and turns his back to you, he turns the water on and it sounds like he's rinsing something. Shutting the water off he moves out of your line of sight. A slight panic arises in your chest at the thought that he might have gone off to fetch whatever tool he seems fit to end your life.  You hear a rummaging sound close by, and then he's back above you, looking down at you. This time, you feel a large hand on your head as he slowly and carefully tilts your head back, your eyes are met with harsh light and you shut them. That overwhelming want and need for him to look into your own eyes die down. Now, you don't want to look at him when he slits your throat.

But he doesn't.

You hear what sounds like a paper wrapping open. Two fingers press on either side of the gash over your eyebrow, a small whimper escapes you at the pinching pain, and then something sticky is attached to you. A band-aid. He had put a bandaid on the cut of your eyebrow. It isn't until you feel his hand leave your head that you open your eyes. And at that moment, your eyes are met with his blue ones. The way he's looking at you makes a tiny bit of your anger and hurt, and fear goes away. His blue eyes are filled to the brim with hurt, and sadness, and confusion. It almost looks like he’s about to burst into tears. He looks broken down.

Thomas fiddles a bit with the paper wrapper of the bandaid after making sure it's secured on your eyebrow and proceeds to look down into your beautiful eyes, your eye color popping in the harsh light. Something in them reflects his own emotions. He doesn’t want this, he punishes himself for not responding to your text messages the past weeks, or that he didn’t reach out to you. What he’s looking at is clear cut torture for him. He wants to cry.

I'm so sorry…

He hears the familiar clacking of his mother's shoes above the both of you, a sigh of relief escapes him. Patting the pockets of his jeans, he makes sure he has his phone and the keys to the basement before he heads over to the stairs. But he stops right before ascending them and looks over to you.

He pulls his phone up, unlocks it swiftly, and goes to his text-to-speech app, making sure the volume is put on high before typing out two words and hitting the speech button. A male voice rings out through the basement.

"I'm sorry"

[animensfw-smut]

Sato x Tomboy! Reader

Here’s the request from @dimwit1234567

I don’t have much requests so I’m sorry for taking so long to write. Anyway, i hope you enjoy this! I also imagine Sato to be a sub... I don’t think i made the reader tomboyish enough, sorry.

WARNINGS: NSFW, 18+, Slight food play.

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

*(y/n)’s pov*

Today was my first day at UA since i just transferred here. 

Walking along the corridors, i hummed a tune while looking around me. There were students with different quirks and i found it amazing how each and every person had a different quirk.

“You class 1-A are a bunch of losers.” I furrowed my eyebrows as i heard that, and i turned to the source. A boy with blonde hair and an annoying face stood there, a smirk present on his face. He was talking to another boy who had brown hair.

“Tch. I hate people like you who look down on other people.” I spat as i punched him in the face.

“Agh!” He held his nose that was dripping blood,

“You bitch!” I gave a smirk in return,

“Learn to respect other people and this may have turned out differently for you.” Gritting his teeth, he stormed off whilst saying,

“You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to fight today.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes before turning to the brown-haired boy. 

“Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you...?” I smiled,

“It’s (y/n) (l/n). It’s fine, and you are...?” He gave a bright grin in return,

“Rikido Sato!”

“Well, Sato, do you mind showing me where Class 1-A is? I’m a little lost.” He gave a surprised look,

“Oh! You’re the new student Aizawa-sensei mentioned. Sure, follow me. I’m just getting to class now anyway.”

Time skip~ 3 months later~

“There’s an assignment to do for english. Present Mic isn’t in today so I’m giving out the work. It’s due for next week. Make sure to do it or else. Here are the pairs...” Aizawa-sensei looked so fed up as his tone was flat. I listened out for my name.

“...Mineta, Kaminari and Sero. Last but not least, (l/n) and Sato. Alright, now get out of here and don’t bother me.”

“Yes!!!” I whisper-yelled with a huge smile on my face. Everyone piled out of the class. I tapped Sato’s shoulder,

“Sato! Where do you want to do the assignment?”

“Come to my dorm room whenever you’re ready?”

“Sure. I’ll be there in an hour.” We said our farewells before going to our own dorm room.

*Sato’s pov*

Alright... Today’s the day i confess to (y/n)... I’m so nervous! She said she’ll be here in an hour, so i have time to make something for her...

Getting out the ingredients, i proceeded to weigh everything correctly...

*(y/n)’s pov*

Knocking on Sato’s door, i placed my hands in my pockets. 

“Hey!” I greeted Sato, and he let me in his room. 

Upon walking into his room, a nice aroma wafted up my nose. Tilting my head, i asked,

“Were you baking?” A blush rose to his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck,

“Yeah... It’s for you.” He walked to his desk before taking out a cake from a box. A smile crept onto my face, my cheeks heating up. Written on the cake with icing was:

‘(y/n), i like you... Please go out with me?’

“Yes, i will go out with you!” Sato placed the cake on the table as i glomped him. Rubbing my cheeks against his, i tightened my embrace.

“How long have you liked me?” He scratched his cheek,

“S-Since you helped me with Monoma...” I laughed slightly,

“That’s a long time.” 

We settled down to eat the cake before we start the assignment. 

“Mmm! It tastes nice!” I exclaimed, looking over at Sato. There was cream on his lips and he didn’t seem to realise. 

“Sato~ Come over here.” Looking confused, Sato obliged, and i swiftly ran my tongue along his lips.

“H-Huh?!” A dark red hue exploded onto his face as he became a stuttering mess. I pressed my lips to his, my hands roaming his muscular build. A quiet groan left his lips, his pants tightening. 

“Shit... You’re so hard already...” I murmured, pushing him onto his bed. I unbuckled his pants, his member springing free.

(We do be going a bit fast...)

“(y-y/n)! A-Are you sure about this?”

“Mm.” I hummed, grabbing his throbbing length. I got some of the icing from the cake, spreading it all over his length.

“A-Ah...! (y/n)...” Opening my mouth, i licked the tip of his cock before going down further. Sato’s hands tangled themselves in my hair, pushing his cock down my throat. The icing made him taste sweet, the drool escaping my mouth. I sucked harshly, enjoying the taste of sweetness as he let out a loud groan,

“(y/n)!” His cock twitched before he released everything inside of my mouth.

“W-Wait! I-I’m sorry (y-y/n)!” I grabbed a hold of his shoulders before pushing him to lay down,

“It’s fine Sato. Just relax, okay?”

“O-Okay... If you say so...” Tugging off my pants and underwear, I climbed on top of him, lining him up with my entrance. I slowly sunk down onto his cock, wincing at the size.

“F-Fuck... That f-feels good...” Sato bit his lip. A smirk sneaked onto my face as he was fully inside of me. I bounced my hips, enjoying the way his cock grazed over every spot inside of me. 

Sato’s hands grabbed my breasts gently, massaging them. I moaned, leaning closer to him,

“Is that good?” 

“Mm...” I nodded in response as he started thrusting up into me. One of his hands found purchase on my hip, keeping me steady as i lifted myself only to drop myself back down onto his hard member.

My arousal had leaked all over his thighs, loud slapping and squelching sounds echoing around his room. I panted, removing my shirt because of the heat. I hadn’t worn a bra, so he had easy access to my chest. His fingers twisted and tugged on my nipples which made me moan out loud. 

“S-Sato...! I-I’m gonna--” I was cut off as i released all over him, my walls squeezing his dick. Sato shivered involuntarily, his grip on me firm as he lifted me up while he climaxed. I gasped at the sudden movement, my hands placing themselves on his chest.

I collapsed on top of him, the both of us breathing heavily,

“Th-That was...”

“Amazing.” I finished. He nodded, hugging me closer to him. We fell asleep, our snores filling the room.

Time skip~ In the morning~

I walked out of Sato’s room after cleaning up when i ran into Mineta, Kaminari and Sero. Mineta came up to me, smirking,

“So (y/n), did his whipped cream taste good?” Oh shit, I forgot Sero’s room was one room over. (Todoroki was out visiting his home the night before.)

“Shut up!” Screamed Sero and Kaminari in sync as they both elbowed him in the ribcage. Mineta held his sides, looking on either side of him,

“Ow! That hurt!”

“Good.” Spoke Sero.

“You deserve it.” Kaminari rolled his eyes.

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A/N

Hope you enjoyed this one! I think this one was pretty long? The next request will be from a Wattpad user:

Mirio Togata x Fem! Reader (Slight angst but happy ending).

[keyofjetwolf]

Bonus Question Answers! (non-anime heat 1)

I asked a silly question! You gave me incredible answers. SO VERY MANY INCREDIBLE ANSWERS. Now, I present my favourites!

Another that was so so so hard to narrow down. I did have to make special mention, though, at the sheer volume of you who (correctly) pointed out Haruka and Michiru either spending their quarantine fucking, or frustrated at being unable to fuck. Thank you, heroes.

If your answer is listed below, you’ve earned an entry in a random draw to win a GIFTENING liveblog OF YOUR CHOICE

—

Q:  The Senshi are all quarantining together! Describe what a wonderful/terrible/wonderrible idea this is. (YOU CANNOT BE TOO DETAILED)

~~~

*  First things first: if the Senshi are all quarantining *together*, then they must be old enough to be not living with their parents (or lack thereof). Furthermore, they must be living in a place big enough to accommodate all of them. Now, the Outers already have a huge fuck-off house, so if we're cheating and saying ALL the Senshi, not just the Inners, then we can say that Usagi and the girls moved in with Haruka and the girls after high school. Usagi and Makoto and Minako have almost certainly snubbed college; Ami and Rei not only attending, but Ami is aiming to get her Master's, so both of them have to take online courses. Setsuna is teaching them. Haruka and Michiru graduated from college *ages* ago. Hotaru also has to take online courses, but for high school since she'd be about that age at this point. Chibs is not here because she's smarter than to travel back in time to when there was a GLOBAL PANDEMIC. Now then! Usagi is moping because she can't see Mamoru or Chibi-Usa, so she reads manga and watches TV to distract herself. As per her usual she mostly shoves her nose into what everyone else is doing, then gets distracted by a passing butterfly and chases it until she finds something new to stick her nose into. She's honestly taking the quarantine the hardest, even though she's living in a house with all her closest friends. The delivery guy knows her by name and by her super-cute hand-sewn (by Makoto) pink-and-white bunny mask. Makoto has sewn everyone custom masks, actually, which brings us to... Makoto naturally is doing the cooking and cleaning and laundry, and while she does love doing these things, she's now doing them for NINE PEOPLE, and Usagi has never learned to fold a sock in her life, and Ami folds socks but is crazy busy with her coursework, and Minako/Rei/Michiru/Haruka can't be bothered for one reason or another, and Makoto is about to explode because everybody assumes she'll do everything and do it smiling and normally they wouldn't be WRONG but COME THE FUCK ON YOU GUYS. She is in a constant state of being two steps away from an explosion. The only saving grace is Setsuna, who does actually help out in between teaching online courses, and who patiently listens to Makoto vent, because she understands that if Makoto melts down, so will the rest of the household. Makoto has a pink-and-green rose mask; Setsuna has a wine red mask with black stitching. Ami has vanished into her room. STUDY, STUDY, STUDY, STUDY. She is literally taking four courses at once because with a global pandemic, a) what else is there to do with one's life b) the rest of the household is utter chaos c) MUST DEVELOP VACCINE. She has actually be helping researchers online with this under an anonymous name. She *wants* to go out and volunteer, but understands that the best thing she can do is quarantine properly. She is constantly lecturing everyone about Best Quarantine Practices, to the point that the others mostly tune her out now. This is only piling onto her constant stress. Hotaru visits her occasionally with tea and textbooks so they can study and destress together. It's good for both of them, especially since Hotaru, with her health issues, is the most at risk of all of them. Hotaru's also used to isolation, so she's a surprisingly stabilizing presence for everybody. Ami and Hotaru both have standard hospital red-lined white masks along with their custom masks (Ami's is light blue with dolphin clasps on the side; Hotaru's is designed based on that optical illusion that's either a lamp or two people facing each other), because you need one for when the other is in the wash. Minako has become a Twitch game streamer and beauty YouTuber and is updating both CONSTANTLY, with YT guest star appearances by Michiru (who is always effortlessly and flawlessly beautiful) and Rei (who is using Minako to promote her own YouTube channel). Minako tried to get Usagi to be the camerawoman for her YT show but Usagi wanted to be the star too much, so now Minako as strong-armed Haruka into doing it. Haruka is bored out of her mind because she can't go out on drives, so she helps Minako out without complaint. Sometimes she even guest-stars on Minako's Twitch streams, depending on the game. Getting to film beautiful girls making themselves even hotter? Sure, she's into that. Minako's mask is glittery gold with red ribbons for cords; Rei's mask is black with flame decals on the sides; Haruka's is a solid black, tight and sporty; Michiru's is seemingly plain white, "coincidentally" complementing Haruka's, but is made of fine linen and silk. Rei meanwhile doesn't actually know what her channel is about and didn't give two shits about YouTube until Minako started doing it, but Minako is actually raking in a stupid amount of cash from doing this, so Rei figured, how hard could it be?? Right now she's somewhere in between doing her own beauty channel, doing paranormal investigations, cooking channel (she proudly presents instant meals as time- and money-saving masterpieces without an ounce of self-awareness. Haruka has had to hold Makoto back from suplexing her more than once), and a video review column where she tries things out and gives her opinions on them. She's *absolutely furious* that her channel is not as popular as Minako's. She's also strongarmed Haruka into being her camerawoman. Michiru allows this because watching Minako and Rei fight over their respective channels is the most amusement she's had all year. Ami asks Rei when she finds the time to study. Rei ignores her.  -- @ayu-ohseki  [I said spare no detail, AND YOU DID NOT. Thoughtful, considered, and a fun read start to finish, amazing.]

~~~

*  It is the best. Minako has a captive audience, Makoto has everyone to cook for, Rei has taken charge of how to Do Everything, Ami can hole up with her books and tutor Usagi, Usagi has all the time to play games and read comics. It is the worst. Minako has a captive audience and they want new stories faster than she can make them. Makoto has everyone to cook for and they eat so much all the time. Rei has taken charge of how to Do Everything but no one will listen. Ami can hole up with her books but that doesn't mean its quiet enough to read, and she can tutor Usagi but that doesn't mean Usagi is even making a small attempt at listening like in the group study sessions. Usagi has all the time to play video games and read comics, but no one will let her, especially Rei. -- @cakeandpi  [Loved the Dickensian Best of Times/Worst of Times structure, precisely the level of epic this clusterfuck needs.]

~~~

*  In the best of situations, it is difficult to find housing for nine people on short notice, and these are not the best of situations. Given that she had, from at least the age of four, been bound to the moon by a curse of blood, it should not have come as any grand opportunity to Michiru that the opportunity to recuse herself from larger society life would be immediately and aggressively offset by Haruka's invitation for the Senshi to come quarantine at the Kaioh beach cottage. 

One might assume that perhaps Usagi's parents, or Ami's mother, or Rei's grandfather, might have objected to their children being out of their sight in such a time, but that is to discount the general narrative inconvenience that seemed to pursue Michiru to the last. "Babe, there's like 6 bedrooms in the place," Haruka has said, quite missing the point entirely that Michiru had made it her goal to make use of everyone one of them. And so, here she was, where one might be sipping a glass of champagne on the veranda overlooking the sea, lover at her side, instead she was listening to the endless sniping between Rei and Usagi as they pattered about the house, there was no lover next to her, but only Ami with her endless piles of conspicuously books that Michiru felt quite certain had been selected for the view their covers provided others, Mako sending away the cook for what were noted to be COVID concerns but Michiru felt were more the concern of her longing for the spacious kitchen. Her mind preserved her enough not to speak of Minako, nor of the fact that the one she would have beside her was currently playing Mario Kart with such. Hotaru and Pluto were there, also. Michiru took another deep drink of the wine. With the volume she was consuming, she would have to switch to boxed wine. At this rate, she may qualify as hand santizer herself, which nearly stayed her hand. Usagi wailed loudly at Rei. Michiru took another drink. No Matter, she thought, for I will not die before my appointed time. The Moon will certainly see to that.  -- @docholligay  [You absolutely catered this to me and you know it, you whore. Hilarious AND beautifully written, I detest you.]

~~~

*  Usagi is thrilled to have all of her favorite people in one place. Mako will cook! Ami will read to them! Mina will write and Rei will direct plays for them all to perform! Haruka will make sure they stay fit! Michiru will teach them etiquette! Hotaru and Setsuna will also be there! Her favorite cats will be there to purr and offer guidance without actual knowledge and nagging! Yay! After a week, Usagi is still relentlessly happy. To be otherwise would be to admit that her friends are not perfect, perfectly suited for each other, and perfectly happy. She hasn't seen Haruka and Michiru at all in days; they commandeered the back bedroom with it's own bathroom and the others only know they're still in there by the noises *ahem*, by the food delivery people who keep coming to the door, and the empty food containers that appear in the hallway. Mina and Rei are not speaking to each other after the Hair Clip Incident. Ami is still diligently serving as a go-between, but Mako refused and will not give either of them any of her cooking, so Rei keeps making Hello Curry and leaving the kitchen a disaster, while Mina somehow keeps convincing Haruka and Michiru's uber eats drivers to give her stuff. There is only one litter box for the two cats, and that is not enough. And Artemis keeps leaving the seat up on the toilet. No one knows how, or why, but he does. Hotaru and Setsuna are also there. Worst (best?) of all, Usagi doesn't miss Mamoru at all, and hasn't actually noticed his absence. He's been missing for three days. -- @incorrecttact  [I ADORE the little touch of Usagi having to aggressively fake it because even she is struggling THIS CANNOT BE ALLOWED. You made me bark laugh at the end. Glorious.]

~~~

*  Rei's Journal: It's day 8 under lockdown and I have somehow managed to retain my sanity. It has not been easy. By day 4 Minako and Makoto were at each other's throats because Minako tried to clip her toenails in the kitchen, due to Ami holing herself up in the bathroom. Makoto threatened to make Minako eat a toenail burrito, and by God I think Minako actually would eat it just to show Mako up. It has been a struggle to keep Usagi from eating all the food, and I fear she is contemplating the idea of eating Luna and/or Artemis. Ami is retreating further and further into her shell. She has solved every math problem in every math book she had at her disposal, and is now showing withdrawal symptoms. The walls of her room are covered in math equations. I am doing as best I can; my rations of "Here!" Quarantine snacks have been balanced to last me for at least the next week, but after that point I am not sure what happens. As a shrine maiden, I'm used to long periods of silence in my meditation. It's been difficult keeping my focus with Usagi and the others slowly losing their minds, but I am a survivor if nothing else. If I could survive D-Point, I can survive this... Wait I didn't survive D-Point FUCK.  -- @judedeluca  [Rei’s journal, yes, thank you for catering to me directly, I appreciate your service and killer ending.]

~~~

*  Everyone's locked into separate rooms by day 2, or make-shift rooms with blankets taped to the ceiling. By day 3, there's lines on the floor. Ami makes a timetable for when everyone can go to shared spaces like the kitchen or bathroom. Usagi is distressed that all of her friends can't get along, even as she has an existential crisis about not wanting to be around them herself. Rei is suddenly the mom friend, when Mako realizes that trying to help everyone leads to her stress-baking leads to her taking too much time in the kitchen leads to everyone more pissed off. Minako is alternately drunk off her ass and egging everyone on, or making notes for pressure cooker situations to add to training. Haruka gets more sullen than anyone's seen her, Michiru loses some of her polish as her nerves finally fray by the end of the week, and is cussing people out by day 9. Setsuna immediately regrets her decision not to hunker down at the time gate. Hotaru's glad to be included but so anxious she starts collecting the house's lamps in her area. Ami has to make a timetable for using those as well, so Hotaru doesn't call death to them all. Somehow, they survive. When things let up, they all promise not to speak of it again, at least not directly, and then immediately all take at least 3 days to be by themselves in their own spaces. -- @katrani  [Usagi’s existential crisis, yessss. Hotaru stress-hoarding lamps though, everything I never knew I wanted.]

~~~

*  Ordered in Michru's least loss to greatest, or conversely, Usagi's greatest loss to least: 1) they stay at Michiru's mansion. It's huge. It's spacious. Michiru disappears within minutes and isn't seen again until 14 days later. Pluto finds her easily enough for tea, Rei does so out of dogged determination, and Haruka doesn't have to try. Usagi does, but she gets lost easily and there are so many snacks everywhere, she gets distracted. what's that? A room filled with tvs? another with comics? Mako worries about her getting cavities and uses the greatest kitchen ever to cook things up. She almost never leaves there. Ami poisons the pool every time she leaves as part of the great Hatemace. Chibs and Hotaru get a chance to be kids and actually play. If the starlights are there, Seiya and Haruka have a dramatic face off. Mina makes sure to leave graffiti everywhere. Despite her best efforts, she can't find Michiru's weakness. Artemis and Luna take a vacation. 2) They stay at Usagi's, Minako's, or Ami's. They do not stay at Rei's because Grandpa is old and Rei has put the fear of god in anyone who dares come to the temple. The houses/apartments are small and cramped with just the five inners. With everyone else? Chaos. Artemis and Luna are glad they aren't affected and escape. Chibs conveniently stays in the covid-free future/"look, I already have teh vaccine! I don't have to stay here with you". Hotaru contemplates reincarnating again. Mako enjoys time with Usagi's mom, cooking together (no, she isn't crying, you're crying). Minako takes extremely long showers to piss Michiru off. Michiru is not sure how she got forced into this, she feels the hand of god in play and curses the writer internally. Pluto unravels the mystery of super!spy!Usagi's Dad but no one will ever know the answer to that. Ami escapes online and plays sims where they all have their own rooms, with Jet's help. Rei turns on the stove and pretends its the great fire to meditate. Haruka likes this long sleepover! She's never got to do one before! Usagi agrees and they plan horror movies and games and fast food. If the starlights are there, Seiya plans an even greater slumber party. Usagi helps both because more parties are always better. 3) They stay at Mako's two-room apartment. Chibs doesn't even step into the past, she's heard the horror stories from her aunts. Hotaru begins the sequence for the end of the world. Word of god or no word of god, Michiru refuses to go. When the narrative railroads her into it, she claims the balcony for herself, furnishes it, and locks the door so no one else can come. Pluto stays in the void, unreachable by all. Mako has never seen her apartment so filled and noisy and she's both elated and afraid for her plants. Her plants are terrified and tremble the entire time. Rei lives in the oven. Minako claims the bathroom--a toll is required for anyone else to enter. Ami puts all her brainpower to finding a cure to escape this hellhole. The bedroom is a nonstop competitive slumber party, and  Minako, Haruka, and Seiya have a song off. A toll is still required to enter the bathroom. Usagi breaks onto the balcony once to hug Michiru.  -- @kumeko  [I love the different branches, ALL THE SHENANIGANS]

~~~

*  (Putting Inners in college so Ami isn’t on call as a doctor) The good news is that the Outers’ ridiculously spacious mansion is, in fact, ridiculously spacious enough to accomodate eleven people (I’m certain Mamoru was not in your intentions, but it was agreed that Mamoru is a good quarantine podmate who will follow all necessary rules, and also Usagi would be insufferable if he’s not there and Mako points out that he lives alone and the social isolation would be killer) and three cats. Haruka’s happy to have Minako around all the time, and Pluto and Hotaru are thrilled to have Chibs. (Rei asked why Pluto and Chibiusa can’t just go back to their own times. Pluto gives a lengthy explanation about past and future virology that may or may not be total bullshit. No one really knows with her.) Ami is continuing her studies, as she does, and has a consistent schedule involving Study Hours and Socializing Hours. She does, however, make sure to swim in the Outers Mansion Pool every day at the same time Michiru customarily does. Neither of them says anything about this. Their rivalry continues. Michiru knows every nook, cranny, and secret passage there, and can easily avoid anyone who’s gotten stir-crazy should she so choose. Mako has taken command of the kitchen, and cannot be talked out of doing all the cooking. The food is delicious, nutritious, and is basically Quarantine Baking Times Twelve. Her skills are appreciated by all. Mamoru is likewise well-behaved, and mostly spends his time being quietly useful, spending time with Usagi, and listening to classical music with Michiru without otherwise interacting with her, making him the one man whose presence she will tolerate. The cats are well-behaved. They are the ones who are quarantining well. Minako, of course, is dying of boredom by the month and a half mark, and proceeds to take up a wide variety of hobbies, only to move on when they turn out way less fun than the video suggested. She annoys the others to show her how to bake tarts, or paint, or whatever it is Pluto does all day. Eventually she does find something she enjoys enough to stick with - wirework. While her preference is for jewelry, she does work with larger scale stuff just enough to present Mamoru with her masterpiece - Chicken Sculpture 2.0. (He seethes.) Rei, meanwhile, has also taken up new and exciting hobbies, but she will determinedly stick with each one until she has reached an arbitrary goal of Accomplishment. Even when she hates them, as is the case with birdwatching, Zumba, Mako’s attempts to refine her sense of taste, and trying to follow professional wrestling. She does take to cross-stitching once she discovers it’s basically stabbing something until it’s art. Felting, too. Between that and cleaning she’s a delight when she and Minako are not grating against each other. Which is frequently, with them both taking up all these new hobbies. (When assigning rooms, Michiru thought ahead. Rei’s and Usagi’s are next to each other, at the end of the hall. They bicker as much as ever but everyone else can get distance when really needed.) Usagi is happy to be somewhere with all her dearest friends, all the time! She is VERY BAD at waiting patiently until everyone else’s Productive Hours are over, be they online classes and homework or painting or quietly stealing Mamoru’s abstract mosquito coil shirt and throwing it through the Gate of Time and into a void where it will never again darken their sight. (Pluto isn’t a monster, and replaces it with a similar but less incomprehensible white T-shirt with a pattern. Mamoru assumes this was Minako’s doing.) Artemis assigns himself as resident Blonde Disaster Watcher, while Chibiusa - currently visiting as a roughly 14-year-old, matching Hotaru - smugly points out that she’s handling quarantine just fine. This prompts a round of furious research by the rest of the house as to whether or not cats can drink alcohol. Haruka’s practically run down a path around the Sprawling Kaioh Estate on which the mansion sits. How can she angst gaily without a mission? Sure obviously staying home and keeping safe is the most important thing and she will do her part, but that’s not nearly dramatic enough to hate herself for if she decides she’s quarantining inadequately! Michiru decides the best thing for this is to take her, Usagi, and Minako and sit them all down with empty scrapbooks. Usagi and Haruka emerge after the pandemic with eighteen volumes of Important Friendship Scrapbooks. There’s an adorable doodle of them high-fiving on the title page of each one. They designed it themselves. Despite this all, quarantine does actually pass without any of them killing each other, though Haruka and Michiru do strongly consider sending the others to Hikawa Shrine instead. Grandpa Hino can manage all this energy. No one except Chibiusa thinks to ask how Hotaru’s doing. They forgot to check her room.  -- Regalli  [I know legit sadness in my Senshi Heart that I cannot see Haruka and Usagi’s scrapbooks with my own eyeballs. Loved this whole thing, but fucking Hotaru at the end hahahah]

~~~

*  It's all a matter of perspective. Mako and Ami will keep themselves consistently busy with cooking/baking, plant caregiving, reading, eating sandwiches, etc. Mako will eventually cave, after like, day 6 and there are 3 dozen scones, they lost count of cookies, and they've got frozen meals for weeks. Rei keeps telling her to stop cooking because she stumbled into Mako's apartment with armfuls of Here! Curry! and convenience store meals. Usagi is sooooo boooooored all the time and that's a dangerous combo with Minako being soooooo booooooored all the time. The Rube-Goldberg machines, the destruction, the pranks. More about Rei sadly as I know you don't particularly care for her at all whatsoever: she is a rollercoaster. Every day is too different but it's also always the same. Usagi is eating too much of her food but nobody else is eating enough. It won't go bad this way, but Usagi STOP I GOT THAT KIND OF CHIPS FOR ME. She finds some peace with Michiru who herself trying to keep a grasp on her ~*ara*~ ness but won't admit that by day four has been wanting out. "The girls are sweet" she convinces herself as she listens to another screaming match between Usagi and Rei while Minako snapchats everything. Haruka lost it by the second day, she can't stand not doing anything and not being in motion. At first this was channeled into doing small workouts that Mako sometimes participated in from a distance, but those have stopped. How long have you been laying on her floor today, Haruka? You gonna get up and have something to eat today Haruka? Hotaru and Chibs keep themselves busy with games and movies (Chibs and Usagi fight over the TV), Setsuna plays sometimes but is just happy to watch and enjoy these moments of peace. Chib's pride is on the line because she is getting bored by day 5 but she will not be sooooooo booooooored like Usagi. Mamoru begins to bring them all takeout by day 10 and slips Michiru a bottle of wine when she comes down, she is grateful, the label brings a tear to her eye, he knows good wine. Luna and Artemis are there. They sure are cats, and they can come and go if they want. They are envied. At some point they are all laying in the living room together. They don't know how long, someone's playlist is playing in the background. They don't care. It's the longest anyone has gone without talking. It's the one of the few times they've truly felt connected with one another as a team. Minako then asks, "If I ate myself, would I become twice as big or cease to exist?" It was nice while it lasted.  -- @thatonemoonie  [Every detail is divine, but oh my god Minako’s question at the end, THANK YOU.]

~~~

*  Michiru does not have enough wine and the Moon will pay for what she has endured. -- the Lord of the Sea  [Summing it up in the perfect single sentence, brilliant.]

~~~

*  It's Usagi's idea, really. Quarantine procedures are announced and she can't help but imagine what it will be like for all her friends. Minako, stuck with family she doesn't get along with. Ami's mom under even more stress as an essential worker, probably avoiding her daughter to keep her safe from the virus. Makoto, completely alone! Rei, probably regressing from not seeing other people! This cannot stand. Usagi has visions of Mako making gigantic family style meals and keeping things scrupulously clean. Ami contentedly petting Luna and Artemis and keeping them all up to date on how things are progressing. Minako livening the mood by driving Rei insane. And all is right in Usagi's world. It IS like that... sometimes. Being stuck together 24/7 has its ups and downs, and there has never been a situation as prolonged as this one. There are tense moments, and fights over silly things like toilet paper and Usagi running up the phone bill by calling Mamoru so often. It's cramped. Ami tries to keep them up on their distance learning, and checks temperatures daily. They try some disastrous DIYS and recipes when supplies get low. Usagi and Rei have an emotional moment when one night, she tries to secretly use Moon Healing Escalation on the city. In the end, they come through stronger than ever, like always. Just with a lot more appreciation for distance and personal space.  -- @yunyin  [All incredible, but you absolutely fucking GOT ME with Rei catching Usagi trying to heal the city, DELICIOUS ANGST]

---

I’ll be drawing for the bonus liveblog around the start of THE GIFTENING 2020 (currently looking to be Monday, 11 January 2021). Each bonus question is another chance to earn an entry! I CAN ABSOLUTELY AND SHAMELESSLY BE BOUGHT.

[hide-in-imagination]

“New Year’s Eve Is Okay (maybe even amazing)” - Simbar oneshot

The continuation of the Christmas oneshot you all asked for!!! ♡

Happy New Year, everyone ^^

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In her grandpa’s words, Christmas was for family. New Year’s Eve was for friends, your chosen family.  

Because family has always and will always be with you, he had told her once. New Years is to celebrate new things. The new people in your life.  

Yes, it sounded a little cheesy, and considering her history, Ámbar shouldn’t be very ecstatic about celebrating friendship, but she understood what he meant. She had always seen change as an opportunity for something new instead of something to be afraid of. And thank god for that mindset because she’d had to restart and do over a lot in her life. But now she was finally in a place where she felt accepted, and most importantly, fully comfortable with who she was, the friends she’d made along the way and the plans she had for the future.

And so, her tradition was to spend the New Years at some friend’s house or at a dance club, partying the night away and welcoming the new year dancing. It wasn’t that she was the kind of person who went ‘This is gonna be my year!’ or something and awaited midnight with vibrant excitement and twinkling eyes— She actually found it a little silly since every year always ended up being pretty much the same as the previous one and everyone she knew that made New Years resolutions never fulfilled any of them. But hey, it was a great excuse to get drunk, break free from all and any worries and dance and sing until her feet and throat were sore. As far as holidays went, that made New Years her unbeatable favorite. The only day better than that was her birthday.

This year, the pre-party was at her friend Emilia’s house, which consisted of about two hours of food and drinks before they all moved to a near club around eleven and waited for the stroke of midnight.

That was where Ámbar was right now, chatting with some friends in her dark blue shiny dress as she sipped from her drink. Normally, she would be checking the crowd, either here or at the club, looking for a handsome stranger to close the night with a flourish and then never see him again. But this year was different. This year, she wasn’t interested in any of that. Not because she’d gotten bored of the ‘good’ one-night stands which never quite managed to be ‘excellent.’ She could’ve carried on with that.

No, the reason was rather a person. A person that started with ‘S’ and ended with ‘imón, the unexpected friend of Luna who I can not stop thinking about.’

He hadn’t asked for her number that night at her grandpa’s Christmas dinner party, and she, stupidly, hadn’t done it either. Because, what if he got to know her better and decided she wasn’t his type? What if he turned out to be an awful guy and she ended up disappointed? She didn’t even know if he already had a girl he liked. Maybe she should just stay with the memory of one perfect night instead of risking it.  

Thoughts like that circled in her head on a loop until he left along with Luna and Matteo and she lost her chance. Later, surrounded by nothing but the solitude and quiet of her own apartment, she had regretted it immensely. She was Ámbar Smith; she was supposed to be braver than that.  

It’d been hard to sleep that night, between flashbacks that made her smile and the memory of their lingering stares when they said goodbye which wiped it right off.

Fortunately, her state of disappointment and self-loathing didn’t last too much, for the very next evening, she got a text saying:

‘You still haven’t managed to change my mind’  

Ámbar may had reacted a little too excitedly, doing what could only be described as a victory dance in her room. Which was ridiculous and so not warranted by a single text, but she really couldn’t help it. By the time she calmed down somewhat, she had two more texts.

‘Just a reminder in case you want to rectify that’

‘It’s Simón by the way’

Of course I know it’s you, her melted heart responded. Why did she find it so cute that he felt the need to clarify? She guessed it was just funny how he could act so confident and laid-back one minute and then shy and awkward in the next. Were they both part of him or did he hide one with the other? She didn’t really know him to know yet, but she found it endearing.

‘I’m guessing Luna gave you my number?’ She texted back, just to appear a little nonchalant. After all, contrary to what her attitude in the last five minutes may imply, she was not a twelve-year-old with a crush.

‘Maybe’ he replied.

He appeared as ‘writing’ for some time (during which her heart did not pound, thank you very much) as if he deleted and started again until he finally tapped sent.

‘She shouldn’t have?’

Now, Ámbar could’ve kept playing it cool and reply with something like “nah, it’s fine” or “I don’t mind either way”— that was probably the smartest move. But just as that night next to the snack table where her chest had ached at just the idea of him thinking that he was bothering her, she couldn’t bear to make him feel like that. So, she decided to be honest.

‘Actually… I think it’s the best thing she has done in a long time.’

 After that, they had talked every day. About many things, general topics like music, movies, TV shows, memes, funny videos… They’d talk about stuff that happened to them throughout the day, whether to vent (“The weather it’s way too hot, I’m melting here!”) or share something good (“A friend just got me the game I talked to you about!”)

Ámbar found herself laughing at every little joke he made, and she felt so happy whenever she made him laugh. She was a little embarrassed at how attentive she was to her phone, practically jumping at the smallest sound or vibration to check if it was a message from him. She got so disappointed when it wasn’t, but oh so very excited when it was. It was dumb and exaggerated, she knew it, but texting with Simón made her heart sing.

(And his ‘Goodnight, bonita’ might as well had made it explode.)

The voice notes didn’t take long in making an appearance (she may or may have not bookmarked some of his), and then there was that day Simón called her because he said he had his hands busy doing the dishes and so he couldn’t write.

Ámbar had told him that if he was busy then they could talk later (a stupid move considering how happy it made her to hear his voice and oh god, what if he hangs up now?) but Simón had replied that he’d put on earphones precisely for this reason and begged her to please save him from boredom while he washed his mountain of dishes. (He was not exaggerating; he had a big family).  

They’d talked for hours that day, long after he’d finished his task. They’d told each other stories of their lives and their families, shared dreams and goals they had in mind. She had laughed a lot and learned a lot about him, more than enough to completely erase her made-up story of the dedicated social worker and shape it into the passionate musician slash part-time waiter that he was. And yet she wanted to know more. Way more.

They didn’t talk about the kiss under the mistletoe in any of their conversations or made any plans about going out somewhere together. Ámbar didn’t know if she should bring it up or if it was too soon; they’d only been talking for a couple days after all. She’d probably seem too intense.

(“You are,” Emilia had told her the day prior, backing it up with the fact that in these few days she’d already memorized all of his band’s songs. It wasn’t her fault the songs were good. Or that his singing sounded so beautiful.)

Besides, Simón was making the most of spending time with his family now that they’d finally managed to arrive from London, and she herself had been meeting with different friends and co-workers around the city to exchange gifts and catch up, so maybe it wasn’t the best time to start anything either.

It didn’t stop her from wishing she could see him though.

He did ask her if she had plans for New Year’s Eve— a not so subtle question that made her smile because it meant he felt the same.  

Sadly, she had already made plans weeks ago to attend Emilia’s party along with many mutual and not mutual friends and ex college classmates. He said he too had planned to attend a friend’s party, and since he had pretty much helped organize the whole thing, he couldn’t not show up.  

Which brought Ámbar here, to the party with her friends, many guys hitting on her and she rejecting them all. She felt a little foolish, to be honest. It’s not like she was dating Simón or he had made any comment about them being exclusive or something. (And could someone be ‘exclusively talking to someone else’ ? Because that’s all they did. They were nothing. Seriously, it was laughable.) For all she knew, he could be sucking face with another girl right now at his party and here she was, dodging advances from hot guys.

They were handsome and smooth and the look in their eyes promised very fun things… but they weren’t Simón.

Ámbar felt very, very stupid.

 ---------------------------------

  Thirty minutes before midnight, Ámbar was singing along to the tunes the DJ played as the countdown steadily proceeded on the club’s widescreen. Thankfully, the place wasn’t as packed as a can of sardines since most people were either outside, waiting for the fireworks display, or at their homes, waiting to hug their families so they could run out and join some party. That didn’t mean it was empty though, not in the slightest, but she could move from the bar and back without needing to elbow her way through, which was enough for her.

Many from the pre-party had already disappeared in the crowd— Emilia, the traitor, being the very first, because in her words: “You may have put yourself on an imaginary leash, but I’m free to do whatever I want, and what I want is for someone to do me.”

Ámbar would’ve defended herself but she’d asked Ramiro to be her kiss at midnight and that basically proved she was right. Ramiro was the closest thing she had to a male best friend— they’d known each other for years, so she trusted him enough for it. Also, she knew he was just getting out of a toxic relationship, so he would not think of it as anything more than what it was.

To be honest, she wouldn’t kiss anyone, but she feared if she was standing alone by the time the clock stroke midnight, some drunk guy would jump her, so she thought it was better to prevent something like that from happening.

Simón had sent her a few texts every once in a while and a quick video of how the party was going over there.  

Good, she thought. So at least he remembers me in between sticking his tongue down other girls’ throats.

Yeah, by that point in the night and after her third glass of rum & coke, Ámbar had gotten pretty paranoid.

She’d responded briefly with emojis and by posting many Instagram stories of her own party. (If she happened to be with Ramiro in most of them, it was purely coincidental.)

“Who’s the guy?” Asked the aforementioned, looking at her phone’s screen over her shoulder. She was looking at a group selfie Simón had shared in his Stories to see if she could identify which of all those bitches was throwing herself at him right now. Her bet was on the curly-haired brunette with the tacky golden dress.

“None of your business,” she replied, locking her phone and putting it inside her bag.

“I’d say it is my business if you’re using me to make him jealous.”

She looked at him.

“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, smiling very smugly.

“Shut up,” she said, and went to the bar for another drink.

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

 It was one minute to the New Year and with her fourth glass left empty somewhere and the energy from dancing in her veins, she was actually pretty pumped.  

That was until Ramiro went up to her and told her loud enough to be heard over the music—

“I’m gonna split up!”

Ámbar looked at him, taken aback. “W-what? But we agreed—”

“You’ll be fine!” He assured her and left her there to mix with the crowd. In seconds she couldn’t even see him anymore.

Ámbar scoffed. Thank you so much, friend.

He was right though— She didn’t need him. She was an independent woman who could take care of herself. She’d had to handle boy advances all her life— She could do it tonight too.

The excitement started growing in the crowd as the countdown on the screen marked 30 seconds. Some people ran to the bowls of grapes, ready to stuck 12 in their mouths as fast as they could. Some others prepared their party crackers and party horns. Those were pretty drunk.

Ámbar swallowed the piece of nougat in her mouth and readied herself to chant the countdown with the crowd.  

Ten!

There was a tap on her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes internally. Seriously? Already?

Nine!

She turned around to dispatch whatever guy that had come to bother her.

Eight!

Her heart skipped a beat.

Seven!

Simón smiled. Beautiful, timid, excited.

“Hi.”

Six!

Ámbar couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t even respond, only look at him and look at him and look at him because he was there and her heart was going to come out. 

Five!

He couldn’t stop looking at her either.

Four!

She knew that look. She’d seen it that night, when his eyes had searched hers for an answer.

Three!

There was more longing now, more eagerness, the question written on fire instead of a hopeful breeze.

Two!

She felt the same fire and more.

One!  

There was no need to ask.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Simón held her face and kissed her.

Around them, the place roared with life and confetti fell like rain, but for Ámbar, nothing else existed but his lips. Nothing but the softness of his hair as she drowned a hand in it. The leather of his jacket as she held onto him. The firmness of his body against hers. And his hand, sliding to her lower back to pull her closer.

The ceiling could’ve fallen down and she would have not let him go.

This time, she didn’t have to worry about stares or decorum. She didn’t have to pretend she didn’t want more, so she didn’t. She parted his lips and deepened the kiss, rejoicing in the way he gripped her waist and kissed her harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and took turns between letting him take whatever he wanted and pouring everything she felt into his mouth until neither of them could anymore breathe.

She didn’t know how long they were like that, only that they were left panting. They opened their eyes and time started moving again. All around them, people were dancing and singing, the music so loud it invited you to follow it.

Ámbar followed Simón instead, right through the crowd as he led her by the hand to a more secluded place, far from the blaring speakers.

“How are you here?” She said in awe once they stopped. She’d think it was a dream if her lips didn’t still feel him, if it weren’t impossible for her body to simulate these many sensations.   

“You shared the name of the place many times on Instagram.”

She did. She could finally admit she had been secretly hoping he would pick up on that. She was so glad he did.

“For a moment I thought I wasn’t gonna find you on time though,” he continued. “I got here minutes ago but there were so many people. Thankfully, your friend— the curly-haired one— He saw me and pointed me in the right direction.”

Oh my god, Ramiro, I love you, you’re the best. 

“What about your party?” She asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not that far from here, just half an hour plus some walking. I could stay here for a while and then go back… Or I could just stay here with you, if you want me to.”

Somewhere inside her mind, Ámbar was aware that that was a question, that he was hoping she’d want him to stay, but she couldn’t focus on that when she was struggling to breathe. 

“Did you ride a bus for thirty minutes just to come kiss me at midnight?”

Simón averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well…" He started shyly. "Actually, I took the subway. But it was really—”

She didn’t let him finish.

For the first time since they met, Ámbar kissed Simón not because of some tradition, not because of any excuse— Just because she wanted to.

Simón was surprised for a second before he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her back. Ámbar set to kiss him until it didn’t surprise him anymore, until he had no doubt that she was crazy about him, until he didn’t hesitate in front of her, because she was wonderstruck just by him existing. 

They parted only far enough to look at each other. If her kiss didn’t fully convey what she was feeling, he must have seen it in her eyes, because his arms didn’t let her go, and a warm, happy smile blossomed on his face.

“So,” Simón said, nuzzling his nose to hers. “Any New Years’ resolutions?”

Ámbar thought about it, and for once, just this once, she chose to take a leap of faith.

“Ending the year like this would would be nice.”

She was scared of having said that because they'd only known each other for a couple of days, and all her logic told her that, most likely, they’d only see each other for a month and then something would happen and they would never speak again. Pretending otherwise, actually believing otherwise, was foolish— nothing more than hopeful thinking. It would only push her into a pit of embarrassment later to know she said this.

But then he smiled that beautiful smile of his and she decided it was worth it.

“I think so too.”

   Both danced and kissed until late into the night, and two days later, they had their first real date.

And at the end of the year, when holiday season came, Ámbar arrived with Simón at her granpa’s house, and their New Year’s resolution came true when they were, once again, each other’s kiss at midnight.  

  …

..

.

[anditendshowyoudexpect]

anyone can play guitar

well, what do you know 

@aparnasworld​ i think this might be closer to what you had in mind?

🎸🎸🎸

People passing by they would stop and say

“Oh my, but that little country boy could play”

It is absolutely, definitely the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in the whole ten and a half years of his life--in fact, more beautiful in its glossy cherry red maple flesh than the version he first glimpsed on the TV screen last year, when all his attention was focused on the dexterous hands that held it, caressed it, making the most beautiful music in the world. His English wasn't very good back then and he barely made out the words but his feet moved of their own accord and his arms folded around the imaginary shape on their own, his fingers reproducing the chords and the strumming patterns. 

He has been coming here every week since that day. He knows every record in the countless boxes--the kind-hearted owner lets him listen to them in exchange for him lending a hand when the store is particularly busy. He knows every tuning fork--he was so fascinated by its appearance until Joseph explained what it was for, and then he was fascinated by the physics of it. He knows every amp, those bulky unwieldy things especially bulky and unwieldy next to his scrawny frame. And of course, he knows every guitar on the wall--it's the first place he comes to whenever he's here, it's the place where Joseph, whose patience had finally run out after a few weeks of watching him play air guitar with his tongue stuck out in concentration, suggested that perhaps the boy should take proper lessons with a proper, actual, tangible guitar. The poor man must have regretted it immediately when he saw the boy's eyes lit up and heard the question, the answer to which doomed him. "Do you play the guitar, Joseph-ajussi?" Eugene--he already wrote his name this way, happy that his original name translated so well into English--followed him around the store for days, offering his assistance in every possible task and errand, from rearranging stock on the shelves to sweeping the floors after closing, until Joseph gave in and was rewarded as a teacher because his student turned out to be an incredibly quick study. He's no Chuck Berry--yet, thinks Eugene, but he's half-decent. If only he had a guitar of his own to practice all the time and not just when he gets the chance to drop by the store. If he had a guitar of his own, it would be so much easier to remember all the tunes that keep flooding his head. Maybe he should learn to read and write sheet music after all because there's no chance he'll be able to afford even the cheapest guitar in Joseph's store anytime soon, let alone this new arrival. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen and it breaks his heart to know that he can never play it.

A delicate cough behind his back pulls him out of his reverie, making him jerk away his hand as it almost brushes the varnished wood. He turns his head around so fast that he can almost hear his neck vertebrae crack. Joseph stares down at him with a soft half-smile, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"I was just--" Eugene clears his throat nervously. "Is that--?"

"Well, not his, of course, but the exact same model, yes," Joseph smiles openly now and walks around his petrified form to... reach out and take the precious beauty off the wall. "You want to try it?" Just like that.

Struck dumb by this irreverence, Eugene opens and closes his mouth silently like a fish.

"How m-m-much?" he squeezes out hoarsely.

"I'm not trying to sell it to you, boy!" Joseph says, incredulity evident in his voice. "Go on, try it, it's okay."

He keeps shaking his head in horror.

“How much?” he repeats. “I could damage it. I— I— I could drop it!” He imagines an ugly scratch on the perfect polished curves or—oh God!—this perfect neck broken in half, steel strings hanging limply, and his heart is about to explode. “I’d have to work for you for the rest of my life and still never be able to pay for it! I— I don’t want to, I— just show me the music box again, remember the one playing ‘Greensleeves’, I’ve been thinking, I could skip school next week, it’s almost summer anyway and we don’t get much homework, and I could help you out more when I’m not helping out Mom at the café, and I have five dollars saved, so— I made a hair pin for her in the shop class but I think it’s ugly and not good enough, not as a birthday present anyway, and she works so hard, she deserves to have something pretty and I think she’ll like it and—” 

It's the most terrifying and the most precious moment in the whole ten and a half years of his life when Joseph sighs, plugs the cord in and just places the cherry red Gibson ES-355, which is obviously, ridiculously too big for his ten-and-a-half-year-old body, in his desperately flailing arms that suddenly freeze, that suddenly feel so clumsy, so alien, as if they were not the limbs he's had since birth but some insensitive artificial appendices. The leather strap touches his neck and he flinches. Joseph's hand gently lifts his left wrist and his hands have never been sweatier. But the calloused fingertips press on the right strings in the right places. His heart has never pounded louder and faster.

He has never been happier.

(posted it on AO3 as well. oh well.)

[sunarintoes]

Dear Whoever: [Oikawa]

Synopsis: two broken strangers hold a mutual understanding of each other as they silently complete jigsaw puzzles together every Wednesday afternoon.

WC: 4K

TW: mental health issues, reader sucks at math, swearing, angst (but a lot of fluff) please do not read if you feel uncomfortable by these themes. Also: this fic has nothing to do with volleyball and is set in a clinic for mental health

Note: this is in no way meant to romanticise mental health issues, it is simply a story of a person (reader) who is struggling with their mental health and eventually gets better through the silent support of a friend she makes (Oikawa)

18/6/2020

Dear diary?

Is that how I'm supposed to start these entries off? I'm not sure. Well, uh...today I went to see a psychologist for the first time. Her name is Mary and she gave me this book, told me to try it out and write in it as much as possible. I feel awkward though. I don't think I'll use this.

Until next time,

Yn

30/6/2020

So uh… hi?

My therapist told me to write here even if I'm not sad? So if something memorable happens. I don't know honestly. This is way too awkward. Maybe I'll get used to this. Maybe not?

Cya,

Yn

18/7/2020

I stayed true to my words, I really haven't written here that much. I'm doing good and I don't think there's anything wrong with me! I'm not sure why I'm being forced to go to therapy. I feel how I feel and it doesn't matter! I know there are people worse off than me and I don’t have the right to feel sad - I have a good family, good friends, go to a nice school and I have money (or well, my parents do). So why should I feel sad? And I just have a resting bitch face. It's not called being ‘depressed’ or whatever.

Asides from all that, the only reason I haven't kicked up a huge fuss about being forced to be interrogated is the fact that every Wednesday - the day I visit my psychologist, there's always the same cute boy sitting in the same seat opposite me, not to mention the same somber expression he wears.

I'm not sure why, but I feel oddly connected to him. As if our minds are connected and in tune. I feel like I know him and he knows me. I've been reading too many books. Lol! There's no way we have that connection. Besides, I've only seen him about 4 times. Yeah, I'm definitely making this up in my sad, lonesome head.

Farewell for now,

Yn

21/7/2020

Dear diary,

I saw him again. I still don't know his name. But today he looked up at me and smiled a bit, I tried to smile back but I probably just looked angry. Not that I have a problem smiling or that I'm angry or upset. I'm just stuck on default - stuck with a heavy frown on my face.

Sincerely

Yn

29/7/2020

It's a shame, really; I've spent so long trying so hard to get better. And I do want to get better, but it’s not easy. If I'm being honest, I thought I was getting better but when the quarantine hit I began to bottle things up again. Not seeing my feelings, having them buried deep beneath - locked away in the deepest pits of my heart… well, it was soothing in a sense. That way they did not exist, they were forgotten. I didn't have to deal with them. But I forgot the most important thing of all, ‘with good comes bad’ they say, I wish I had listened - to myself and to those around me, that bottling up feelings is really the worst thing to do. Because the longer you ignore them, the stronger they grow and the darker they get. I'm an idiot; really. I was a coward, too scared of my untamed, ugly feelings to face them head on, too scared to ask for support to help me face them. So here I am now, wallowing in the depths of my despair with an increasingly depressing inner monologue, typing this out in tune with it. I'm really bashing myself up, bottling up is the most harmful way to inflict violence upon one’s self, and I'm really feeling it. My brain hurts from narrating my problems and inner thoughts - it’s working overtime as a sort of coping mechanism. But what hurts the most - what burns the most, is my ever dry throat and teary eyes. Having to swallow the ever present lump that happens to make itself comfortable right at the back of my throat seems to really suck the moisture out of my mouth, hence my dry throat. My eyes really sting, the tears come and go, and boy, let me tell you - it takes so much strength to fight them. To stop them from rolling down as they would wish to. Feeling the tears well up and then forced to go away really burns. I'm not sure why; I do know that despite not having cried even once, my eyes burn as if I havent stopped crying since last week.

As dramatic as this is, this is how I feel. Quite underwhelming considering I've been harboring such strong, hating and dangerous feelings to myself since march. Though, this is my first time letting these frustrations out. I'm glad I've finally realised the burdens I carry. There's not much I can do.

See you next time,

Yn

2/8/2020

Hi,

Didn't expect to write that much in here but shit has been going down this week. Today my math teacher kept me in to tell me that I failed my math test, she told me that it was irresponsible of me to get as low as I got. The whole time she scolded me, I felt uncomfortable and like I could cry - I was close too, the tears were forming in my eyes. She asked me if I was planning on dropping maths, she basically suggested for me to drop maths. Oh! She also told me that I had to stop drawing in my book and that it was preventing me from learning because apparently ‘if you draw that just proves to me that you have no idea what's going on and you don't want to ask questions.’ and I'll give her that, I don’t - to both things.

The seats are so close it makes me anxious, I don't want everyone around me to know that I don't understand math! And besides, I seriously do not understand it so she'd have to sit with me the entire lesson to explain everything… I think there's something wrong with me.

Until next time,

Yn

3/8/2020

Hey, me again.

It’s still slightly weird to vent into a little diary but I'm getting there I guess. I'm so frustrated! Today has been the worst fucking day that I've ever experienced. For starters, I did double math for periods one and two, and then we got our tests back and I failed :) yep 23%!

I'm just soooo happy. If I'm being honest I don't care anymore. Maths is hard and no matter how much I study I fail at it. There's no point in me even trying now. I give up. What's worse is we had a substitute teacher and when she handed out the papers she gave my paper to some other girl in the class - who then of course, proceeded to have a fit about how bad the test is and that the tests were definitely mixed up. Well, they were but did she really have to explain to the whole class about how bad the score is? It was embarrassing to have to put my hand up and get the paper - my test, handed to me. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes into my body. Right then and there I had a panic attack - I had already felt on edge since yesterday but the test conforming results plus the fact that everyone knew how badly I scored tipped me over the edge. I felt the tears well up but I pushed them back - refusing to show everyone how weak and pathetic I am.

I excused myself to the bathroom and cried a little before texting my friends and telling them that I was about to have a meltdown. Unfortunately they weren't online and didn't respond, I had to go back to class anyway.

When the break came, I left to go back to the bathroom - my tears were still clouding my vision and I couldn't get rid of them. I think I may be superstitious but while I was walking I was stuck behind the girls who saw my test - they were talking about their tests. I didn't really care but then one of them said ‘how much do you need to pass?’ and the others just laughed, so she continued and said ‘seriously! Is 24 percent a pass?’ this made the other girls laugh even harder, it felt like a slap to the face. Like they were indirectly mocking me. The same girl then said ‘surely 25 percent’ which again, was met with laughter.

It really hurt. Even if I was just overreacting. Surely not. They had to be talking about me. Why else would they talk about low test grades when they are literally on to top of the class.

I just want to disappear.

Sincerely,

Yn

8/8/2020

I dropped my Ipad today - twice if I may add. I cried when it hit the floor, the protective screen shattering into small, sharp pieces. The ‘up’ volume button is stuck and can no longer be used, neither can the ‘on/off’ button. Guess I can only use the home button to turn it on and wait for it to go to sleep if I don't want to use it. I'm kinda fed up with life. I want to be taken away. I don't care how far I go. I just want to leave.

Not soKindly,

Yn

14/8/2020

Dear Diary,

Today has been alright, I made mini cookies which helped put a smile on my face. Ever since the first time I exploded in this diary, I've felt a humongous weight lift off of my shoulders. Picture this, a single person holding up 50 tonnes of bricks and then telling themself and everyone around them ‘I’m fine! I can do this! I don't need help!’ but then one day, the person feels even more bricks pile up which becomes overloaded and they can't keep it up anymore. So they begin to crumble under all the pressure and the weight until they just explode! After their explosion a new person appears out of nowhere and helps them hold the stack of bricks. It is not that lighter, but it's the extra support - the extra pair of hands helping keep the first person stand straight, that really means something. I'm not sure if that makes sense but it’s how I can describe how I feel. Still feels heavy in my chest, but this time it just feels a bit lighter - like the world isn't entirely against me.

From,

Yn

30/8/2020

Dear Diary

When I went to the clinic earlier this week, something unexpected happened. The cute boy - who i like to call my ‘Therapy Buddy’ pointed over to the small table where a bunch of unfinished puzzles lay. I was confused at first but still walked over there. We sat down opposite each other and offered small smiles to one another. And without saying anything we finished off the jigsaw puzzles until we had to part ways.

For the first time in a while, I felt calm - as if my nerves were soothed. Maybe I should upgrade his name to ‘Miracle Buddy’ because I am 100% sure the reason I felt at peace was his doing - his presence.

Until next time,

Yn

7/9/2020

Dear Diary,

Therapy Buddy and I completed the jigsaw puzzles again today; no words were exchanged. I think he’s cute. I don't have a crush on him. I literally don't know him. I just like being in his presence. And besides, we've only done this twice. Who's to say we'll do it next week?

Cya,

Yn

15/9/2020

Whats up bitch Diary

Haha. Therapy Buddy is definitely smart. He was so quick to complete a 200 piece puzzle! I barely helped… he's cute when he concentrates as well. Oh yeah, we did end up doing them today. I noticed he also carries a diary with him. Maybe he writes in it like I do? Who knows. I hope he's written about me… I mean he probably hasn't but who knows, am I right?

Sincerely

Yn

21/9/2020

Hey Diary,

I'm really struggling going to school, I find it hard to concentrate in math class. Actually yeah, I like going to school but it's when I step into the math class, when I go in I feel my chest tighten and my throat dry. I have spoken with my parents a lot. They said I can drop maths if I want to. I'm still not sure what I want to do in the future but I have a faint idea: a psychologist or an artist. I need maths for psychology I think. I'm not sure. I think I'll just stick with it and hope next year goes better.

From,

Yn

29/9/2020

I look forward to going to the clinic. It no longer feels like an interrogation now that I walk in with an open mind. I'm still not getting much better with maths so I asked to be dropped down a level and now that i'm in a new classroom, a new environment, i feel less nervous. Maybe i’ll be able to get at least something done.

Kindly,

Yn

12/10/2020

This is a disaster, the other week when Therapy Buddy and I were sitting together - in comfortable silence might I add, we mixed our diaries! I can't believe this. I didn't realise until I got home! I had no ways of contacting him either. I hope he didn't read through it. If he did, I'm in trouble, I'm not doing good. I feel sick in my stomach and my throat is constricting. Ok I'm going to go, I'm having a panic attack just remembering.

Until next time

Yn

13/10/2020

Hey Diary!

In the midst of panic yesterday, I missed an important detail. Therapy Buddy left his name and phone number in my book. He must have opened up to write in it only to realise it wasn't his book. I hope. I'm a bit scared to text him. He has a pretty name - Oikawa Toru.

If I'm going to be honest, I read a little of his diary! I couldn't help it, I just wanted to write my feelings but I opened up on his latest entry, I read it and I shouldn't have. I feel a bit guilty but now, more than ever, I feel closer to him. He's feeling a similar way to me.

Yeah, I think I'll go for it. I think I'll text him.

Sincerely,

Yn

20/10/2020

What's up Diary!?

I'm glad I texted Toru! Since then we've been texting non stop but we've made a promise - to not speak to each other in person until we’re both doing better. That's fine with me. I just know my voice would betray me if I decided to chat him up in person. I've found a sense of comfort with Toru, he's no longer just my Therapy Buddy (although that's his contact name), he's now my friend who I can seek comfort in, and he seeks comfort in me too. I hate to say it, but I think I may have a small crush on him. This is a pain in the ass, I really hope I don't. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. But he’s really cute

Kind regards,

Yn

25/10/2020

Hey diary,

I'm feeling a lot mentally better, I wish I had realised sooner that going to therapy was helpful. Having someone who just listens to you and doesn't give their input unless you want it is soothing. I'm not as anxious to go to math class, of course I'm still trying but I've adopted the mindset: what's done is done, all I can do is look forward.

I have good news about Toru. Today he said to me ‘when I’m ready I want to love you and for you to love me.’ I know I don’t love him but I’m not an idiot, I know I have some more-than-friends feelings towards him.

From,

Yn

27/11/2020

Dear Diary,

Things have been really looking up for me. Im feeling a lot happier and the weight in my chest is a lot lighter. I almost feel free. I've been thinking of career paths a lot lately. I think I want to be a psychologist. If it weren't for Mary, who knows where I would be now. Thanks to her I've been able to feel better and do better. I want to be like her. I want to be able to help people through their problems - whether it be a minor inconvenience or a major one, because I know how it feels. I understand what it feels like to have the whole world against you - as if every force and person in the universe were working unanimously together to bring me down, ‘but I survived and so can you.’ That's what I will tell them. And also ‘We can get through this together,’ and let's not forget ‘this will be challenging so we both have to put in 100 percent to getting better!’

Sincerely

Yn

12/12/2020

Hey diary,

I am full of joy.

Today Toru texted me and asked me if i wanted to spend New Years Eve with him! I said yes and were going to go to the park to have a picnic and watch the fireworks! I'm so excited. I hope he is too! I just cannot wait.

Oh yeah! I can't believe i haven't written it in until now! I've just been so happy and excited and wow but the two of us went out to a cafe and he bought me a drink - we still haven't exchanged words and spent the whole time sitting next together while texting.

In that moment I felt so happy, I knew that this is the guy I want to be with. I have a crush on him and wow... I it feels good to get that off my chest and out into the open,,, I wonder if he’s ready? It doesn’t matter, I’ll wait as long as I have to because Toru is special and I don’t want to lose him.

It is New Years Eve and I have made plans to catch up with Toru, he's going to pick me up at my house and together we’ll walk to the nature park where we’ll spend the night having a picnic and being in each other’s presence. In my small bag I have snacks and drinks packed, along with some board games - why not? After all, I'm planning on confessing to him tonight and I thought doing it while engaging in one of the things that brought us together was the way to go.

There is a timid knock on the door and I quickly run to answer it.

As soon as I open the door I’m met with a cardboard poster with the words ‘Happy New Years Eve, Yn!!’ written in big, large letters. I smile as I look at it, Toru definitely was not an artistic person but the thought was sweet and made my heart swell. I pull out my phone and text him a thank you before receiving one back from him; ‘you look extra beautiful… Yn.’

I read the text a few times before my brain finally gets the message, a large smile creeps up onto my face and I hear him try to stifle a laugh.

I turn away from Toru and yell out ‘bye bye! I'll see you tonight!!’

When I turn back I see Toru reaching out his hand; as if he were asking me to hold it.

Toru’s hand is pretty, our fingers are linked together and they rest comfortably. Nothing feels forced, it all feels natural. I look up at him and wonder if he feels the same, as if he knew what I was thinking when he squeezes my hand. Yeah, we definitely have some strange connection.

We spend the whole journey to the park texting, and as much as I love texting him and hearing him quietly chuckle during conversations it no longer feels like enough. I want more. As greedy and selfish as that sounds. I know I said I would wait for him - as long as it would take, but I'm getting impatient. Tonight i'm going to speak to him… I hope he does as well.

The park is beautiful, the flowers are trees surrounding the border and trap out the outside world. It almost feels like I'm in a magical fairy realm - or something like that.

We found a spot near a garden bed and I noticed the arrangement of flowers fairly quickly. I find it funny, the flowers almost represent everything i feel for Toru - maybe our meeting was indeed, fate and maybe this was fate telling me to confess.

I pull out a 5000 piece jigsaw and text ‘wanna play?’ which Toru of course agrees.

I have had fun, all night we’ve spent playing various games and eating snacks. We still haven't spoken and that's getting me down. I can't help the intrusive thoughts - ‘does he not like me?’ ‘he's not ready’ ‘you're just a friend.’ I try to push them out of my head but before I crumble I find a new thought: ‘maybe he's just too shy to make the first move.’

That is, it was up to me and it was the perfect time to confess - ten minutes until the new year. I quickly got up and made an impromptu bouquet of the flowers that resided next to us.

Shaking, I turned towards him. “Hey… i’m Ln Yn and this is for you…” I handed him the bouquet and tried my best to ignore the look on his face - I couldn't tell if it was shock out of happiness or anger, “you asked to know the meanings right?” I move closer to him and point out a flower, “well, see that flower? It's a light purple lilac that resembles young love… and this one here, it's called a belledonne which means silence, this one’s a begonia - representing dark thoughts, oh and this one! It's a pink camellia which symbolises longing - particularly longing for a romantic relationship with the receiver, and this daisy right here means innocence and hope. And lastly, the hibiscus represents delicate beauty.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked up at him, I didn't realise how close I got to him - our lips were mere centimeters away.

‘Hey… I'm Oikawa Toru and I like you too. Why don't we give a relationship a try?’

I smile. I smile so large I feel my cheeks hurt. This, this is the happiest i've ever been. ‘I’d like that.’ Toru smiles with me, he’s beautiful, even with the dak thoughts plaguing his mind.

‘I like your voice’ we say to each other before laughing.

‘Wow.. we really said that at the same time huh?’ he laughs. Instead of responding I grab a hold of his hand once more and squeeze it. ‘It’s kinda annoying, I wanted to confess first…’

‘Not my fault. Bet it wouldn't have been as romantic as what I did.’

‘So telling me the meanings of flowers is romantic?’

I gasp as he doubles over in laughter and without realising we fell into an easy conversation - much like one we would have over text. Everything with Toru felt natural.

The fireworks go off signalling the beginning of the new year, Toru leans in closer and his eyes don't leave mine.

‘Hey,’ he says softly, ‘can I kiss you?’ I gulp and nod, within seconds his lips were delicately pressed against mine, they were soft and smooth - even if they were slightly chapped. They felt natural against my lips. The kiss was short and sweet. Deciding that it wasn't enough to satisfy me, I went back in after we pulled apart and we both smiled into the kiss - our lips passionately moving together, like two jigsaw pieces that were made for each other.

When we pull back, Toru drags me into his chest and says, ‘I'm ready to love you.’

Taglist: @ladyrenart

Hushudhidwhuwihahuaf ïm im sorry this is horrible and I definitely don’t plan on using this style of writing anytime soon! I promise the rest of the series will be written nicely !

[bennydwight]

Bondmates- A FordxOC Oneshot

I’ve never put a story directly onto tumblr before, but I don’t feel right putting this on my fanfiction page until Dakota’s story is fully published, so I suppose I’ll just throw it into the ether here.

Bondmark: A distinguishing mark, feature, or otherwise occurrence for an individual hinting to the identity of their perfect match

~~~

Dakota is nearly twelve when her bondmark manifests; earlier than most, but not unheard of.

She wakes up one morning to see a stripe of swirling colour on the inside of her left wrist, a vortex of tangerine and bright purple, shifting in and out of intensity as the day progresses. She's so excited, and jitteringly nervous too, for some reason, running down to show her parents right away. They say after school they can celebrate!

She's just gotten home from school when the galaxy on her wrist washes deep, deep crimson, and she's hit by a wave of rage so thick and relentless that she's broken three plates before it ebbs. Her parents send her to bed, the celebration cut short.

In the days that follow, her wrist fades to a numb grey, and Dakota sinks into a bone-deep depression.

Her parents take her to see a therapist.

~

Twenty-five year old Stanford has accepted by now that his bondmark won't manifest.

Logic and studies show that ninety-nine percent of people receive their bondmark before their twentieth birthday, and less than 0.01 of the remaining one percent go through life without their bondmark ever making an appearance. Ford makes peace with that, just another way he's a freak. An outsider.

During a class on calculus, a song gets stuck in Ford's head. It sticks around for hours and all attempts to drown it out are futile.

It takes a week for Ford to realize that the voice in his head isn't one he's ever heard before.

~

Dakota knows two things about her bondmate:

One - They're emotionally connected somehow.

The colours on her wrist are quickly identified to reflect the feelings of her bondmate, different colours representing different emotions. If he (she assumes it's a he) feels something strongly enough, Dakota will feel it too. She starts to differentiate which are her emotions are which are his by the taste: hers are tasteless, but his leave a sour taste in the back of her throat, like she'd just drank milk.

Her therapist offers a coping solution during her first sessions. Art or music, something to make her happy when his negativity threatens to overwhelm her. She chooses singing.

She's twenty when he starts to respond.

Two - He's slightly stunted, in her opinion.

His deep emotion affects her in a way, but he ever since those first few weeks, he hasn't felt anything deeply at all. But she develops a habit of keeping an eye on the colours shifting on her wrist and singing to match them. In his sadness, she sings brightly, and the cloudy blue on her skin lightens to a more cheery eggshell. When he's anxious, she learns slow, ancient songs in odd languages. In his anger, she sings soothing melodies from her childhood.

She hopes it's because they're a bondmatch, and her mood influences him as well.

~

Ford knows two things about his bondmate:

One - They're emotionally connected somehow.

He realizes within a week that she knows what he's thinking to some degree. Her songs change to equal or balance what thoughts weigh in his head. During his exams, she sings almost exclusively in Latin, which spurns a desire to learn the language so he knows what she's saying.

He sings back once, his name and age in a simple melody, to see if they are a bondmatch, but she doesn't respond. That's alright, he tells himself, bondmatches happen once in every five hundred thousand. He's just happy to have a bond at all.

Two - She's an alto.

If her screechy attempts at a high C are any indicator. Fiddleford gets very concerned one day after he right near jumps out of his skin at the murderous scream resounding through his skull.

His initial annoyance vanishes under the next line, as she sings about how awful that note was to the original tune of the song.

He smiles for real for the first time in what seems like forever.

Fiddleford gives him an odd look, but doesn't press further, and Ford is grateful for it.

~

Dakota's bondmate is more frustrated than normal today.

The mark on her wrist has been a steady, dulled burgundy all morning, and the back of her mouth stings under the sour taste of his emotion.

She tries singing something to cheer herself up, a German celebratory song with a catchy chorus.

The taste in her mouth intensifies, and her mark is shot through with an angrier, burnt rust as his frustration turns to outright irritation.

She stops singing. It's not making her feel better anyway.

~

Ford can't concentrate.

This quantum mechanics test has been the hardest he's ever encountered thus far, and he pulled an all-nighter to study. Sleepless, running on coffee, and nerves about the test are bad enough.

Halfway through question three, his bondmate starts singing something raucous.

On any other day, Ford might meet the cheerful tune with a smile, but he's trying to focus. The moment he's sure he'll have an outburst if she continues any longer, she stops.

The test is over in an hour, but she doesn't sing again for the rest of the day.

~

Dakota is finding more and more recently that her bondmate is keeping odd hours.

She wakes up at three AM to find her wrist vibrating in swirls of thrilled lemon and inspired peach. His anticipation is tangible. What's got him so excited so late?

She sings softly, trying to lift her own spirits, but she can't stop the unwelcome thought. What if someone else is making him so excited so late?

The notes are cheerful, but the words are melancholy.

~

Ford glances up from the chess board as lilting notes drift across his mindscape in an odd, echoing quality. His partner notices his grin, gaze shifting upwards to follow Ford's, though the song seems to emanate from the very essence of the vast expanse of Ford's mind. "What's that?"

"My bondmate." Ford is pleased she's up so late, his friend has never yet gotten the pleasure of hearing one of her songs. She's picked a good one, and it serves to lift Ford's already bright mood.

"Oh yeah, that old ritual." Bill moves his pawn. "Seems a little distracting, don't you think?"

Ford looks to the 'sky', his smile fading. Maybe it is...

~

Dakota hasn't slept well in months.

What started as a few odd days, wrist fading to colours she's never seen him experience, turns into weeks of deepening anxiety, marked by tangerine spots so intense they're almost white, and an ugly charcoal gray. She gets twitchy and restless, like there's something she should be doing. The taste of his emotion starts small, but eventually she can't stand most food for the sour taste in her mouth.

She knows these feelings aren't hers, but it doesn't make falling asleep any easier.

She sings herself French lullabies, but they don't help her much.

~

Ford has to find a way to stop him.

Ford doesn't have a way to stop him.

Ford can't fall asleep until he finds a way to stop him!

His bondmate has other ideas. Her soft voice cuts through the mess of paranoia and fear in his brain, stilling his thoughts. No! He can't stop! No matter how tired his eyes are, or how comforting her voice is...

Ford falls asleep to foreign lullabies -

"Well, what do you know! Your better half is good for something after all!"

- And wakes up to three fractured ribs and forearms scored with hundreds of leaking cuts.

~

Dakota is at a conference when she first feels it.

The first surge of terror is brushed off, she's used to it by now, though she does still worry about her bondmate. But the anger that follows, so blood red it practically glows, prompts her to leave the conference hall and seek a secluded corner where the chances of her breaking something reduced drastically. He hasn't been healthy for a long time, but this time it's different.

Something is wrong.

She stares at her wrist, in its pulsing reds, and downs the rest of her champagne to try to rid herself of his sour taste. It's all she can do to stand there and feel.

Something sparks on the stripe of colour, a tiny burst of the darkest gray she'd ever seen. Rapidly, the gray overcomes the blood, and Dakota is struck by a panic that reverberates to the very core of her being.

Something is wrong!

It's brief, but the sheer scope makes it seem like the shock is drawn out forever.

Then, nothing.

It's as if the air conditioner has been shut off, and you find yourself in a house that's deafeningly silent. A constant, gentle stream of emotion Dakota has felt since she was eleven ebbed in an instant. She feels some horrific being has reached down her throat and yanked out her very core, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell.

Her boss finds her some time later, in the fetal position against the wall.

Somewhere, somehow, she registers the stripe on her wrist has gone completely black.

~

Ford doesn't have much time to think the moment he enters the nightmare realm. Survival takes precedence.

He's occupied for the next standard week trying to devise a way to defeat Bill.

It takes him a month before he has enough downtime to realize he hasn't heard singing once since he became trapped.

It takes him another three years to come to terms with the fact that he'll never hear her again.

He wants so badly to quietly break down somewhere. If Bill finds him, so be it. But he quashes the impulse. He has work to do.

~

Dakota doesn't sing for years after her bond dies.

She started singing to cope with his feelings, and now there's no reason to.

~

Ford turns and leaves without a word.

The hospitable Urarians are confused. Why would the best choir on the planet cause their guest to react this way?

~

Thirty years pass.

Dakota is humming tunelessly as she cooks bacon, but her breath stops as her chest explodes in anger.

The force causes her to stumble, grasping the counter for balance. Saliva gathers in her mouth to combat the sudden sour sensation. She can barely breathe for the rage, eyesight going blurry.

And then she can't breathe for the tears.

Because the stripe on her wrist is glaring blessed crimson.

~

Thirty years and a day pass.

Ford lays down on the couch, arm covering his eyes. He's back. He's back.

Somewhere, a song comes on, and Ford is just about to shout at Stanley to turn the radio down when his chest constricts.

The voice is in his head.

After thirty years of silence, he can no longer contain his sobs, but his grief pales in comparison to his pure relief.

She's back. She's back.

~

Dakota lowers her hand. "My wrist changes colours with what he's feeling."

They peer closely at the gentle pink etched onto her skin, just a shade grayer than her usual complexion. She smiles at their interest. Neither of the twins have their bondmark yet, and Mabel was practically bursting with excitement at meeting someone whose mark was physical. She'd asked to see it nearly as soon as Dakota sat down. Bondmarks are precious to some people, but Dakota has never been shy about sharing hers.

"How do you know what he's feeling?" Dipper asked, one hand on his chin. So much like his great uncle.

"Lots of practice," she answers. "This pink colour shows up when he's generally content. And see this?" She points to an olive streak slowly circling the perimeter of the mark. "He's a little under the weather right now, but it's small enough that it's only at the back of his mind and doesn't bother him much."

"And you can feel him, too?" Mabel asks, her grin like the sun.

Dakota laughs at her enthusiasm. "Only sometimes."

Dipper and Mabel perk up for a second, eyes darting deeper into the Mystery Shack, but Dakota is distracted. "Ah! See that?" The twins turn back just in time to see the blood orange starburst fade back into dusty pink. "He just got annoyed at something. But now he's okay again."

The twins make joined impressed sounds. Dipper looks at her with those huge doe-eyes of his. "It must have taken a long time to learn everything he's feeling."

"It did. But he's worth it."

~

Ford catches the sneeze in one fist, but it jerks the rest of his body enough to startle Mable. She turns from where she sits on the floor, knitting in her lap and back pressed against Ford's shins, and gives him a look. "Are you getting sick, Grunkle Ford?"

He sniffles. As much as he hates to admit it, but he can't lie to that face. "Maybe a little. But it's not too bad. I hardly notice it."

The frantic pen scratching on Ford's right stills. "Would you say you're a little under the weather, but it's small enough that it's only at the back of your mind?"

Dipper's words elicit a little gasp from Mabel, and he looks back and forth between the twins, blinking in confusion. Dipper stares back with a raised eyebrow, and if Mabel smiles any wider her head will split in half.

"Er, yes, that's a concise way of putting it. Why?"

Dipper goes back to scribbling in his journal, but a ghost of a smile haunts his face now. "No reason."

Ford looks to Mabel. She's turned back to the tv, but there's an excited pull to her shoulders. In a brief moment between commercials, when the screen goes dark, Ford catches her reflection and her grin has not faltered one bit.

~

Dakota can hardly breathe for the claws wrapped around her waist, trapping her arms against her chest. She tries to stay calm. Wild animals could sense panic, and she's no troll expert, but she didn't doubt the hulking beast could sense something from her. The stripe on her wrist swirls charcoal, a colour she's barely seen since the incident thirty years prior, and she wonders if her own fear is feeding back to her bondmate.

She whispers a silent apology to him, wherever he may be.

The troll opens its mouth to drop her inside, but Ford bursts from behind a stalagmite, blaster raised. "Let her go, you hairy heathen!"

She can feel the resonating determination pulse through her chest, and by chance she glances at her wrist again. The charcoal ripples outwards, arcing through with rings of rich wine. Ford fires once, twice, at the beast, and Dakota is so transfixed by the spreading wine colour that she doesn't feel herself falling until she's hit the ground.

The troll retreats, whining, and Ford makes sure it's gone before rushing to her side, hands hovering over her. Never actually touching her. "Are you alright? Is anything hurt?"

She can't answer. Can't do anything other than stare at her wrist. The stripe is shot through with mist and gold.

"Dakota, answer me!"

She says she's fine, smiling to reassure him, but she can't ignore the rapid beat of her heart. When he verifies her safety for himself, she asks. "Ford, what are you feeling right now?"

Though initially taken aback, Ford recovers quickly with a soft smile. "Relieved."

The gentle lavender on her skin proves it.

~

Ford has a lot of catching up to do in terms of music, and Dakota seems to be the right person to help with that, but he finds himself bashful when she asks his favourite songs since so many of them are out of date.

They spend an afternoon not monster hunting, as usual, but sitting in his parlour with a laptop, taking turns showing each other songs. He feels a little better with his music choice after Dakota reveals her own odd tastes in foreign music.

He feels like he's heard some of them before.

~

Dakota stares at the gentle pattern of dusty pink and brighter rose on the inside of her wrist. She's found her bondmate, she thinks. But he hasn't given one clue as to whether she's his too. Or not. Or even if he has a bondmark. It's an unspoken rule that one doesn't ask about another's bondmark unless the information is supplied willingly, and Dakota hates the thought of relinquishing her budding relationship with Ford because she's impulsive. He might not even have a bondmark.

If he doesn't, that's fine.

She doesn't want to think about the other option.

~

Ford settles into bed with a happy sigh, ready for the evening end. It has been an increasingly delightful part of his day, as he finds his bondmate has been singing some of his favourites every night. He wonders if she has a connection to his music too, or if it's just a common interest. Either way, being lulled to sleep by those songs has become something to look forward to, and it's been a consistent concerto every night for nearly two weeks.

He shifts under the covers, closing his eyes.

But sleep doesn't come.

Because neither does her singing.

~

Dakota is hyperaware of Ford's presence next to hers as the Pines family (plus her, plus Mabel's friends, plus the handyman and the cashier) participates in their weekly movie night. She can't concentrate on the movie, too focused on her wrist and the uneven pulses of navy blue and slate.

She leans over and whispers, "Ford, what are you feeling right now?"

He thinks about it for a moment before answering.

She wonders why he's lying.

~

Ford can't concentrate on the movie.

Another week without a peep from his bondmate has sent him into a deep-seated worry. Has something happened? Is she okay? Not knowing is driving him to madness.

When Dakota leans over and whispers the query, he doesn't question it. She's been asking it periodically for a few weeks now, and he's chalked it up to nothing more than a new habit. She's staring at him with an expression he can't place, rubbing one thumb up and down the stripe of colour on her wrist. It seems active, but Ford can't tell what colours burst forth from her skin in this light.

He's often wondered at her bondmate. He doesn't know what the colours represent, but he knows they're very important to her. He's caught her staring steadfastedly at her wrist for minutes at a time, but hasn't asked. She may just not have found hers yet. Or, a more unpleasant possibility, she might be harbouring a dead bond.

His time in the portal flows back to him. He wouldn't wish a dead bond on anyone.

But he can't assume, so best to keep away from touchy subjects. He gives her the best smile he can muster. "Happy and content."

Her face makes him regret lying.

~

Dakota can find only one explanation for this.

The unthinkable has happened, and her bondmark is unrequited.

It's rare, rarer even than bondmatches, but occasionally a person manifests a bondmark towards a person who does not reciprocate. It's awful, its psychologically damaging, but Dakota has lasted this long without her bondmate and she can continue doing so. She's lucky enough to know him well as a friend, and cares about him enough not to bring up the fact of her bondmark, and if he finds happiness in the end isn't that all a bondmate could ask for?

She convinces herself of this, convinces herself she feels better, but not even every song in the world could make her feel better. So she doesn't try.

~

Ford is so distracted by his mounting worry that he doesn't even realize it's raining until his glasses are coated in fat, wet drops.

Next to him, Dakota shrieks, though he thinks it may be in delight. He's glad. There was a period of time where they barely saw each other, and when they did, Dakota seemed more subdued than normal. But whatever is plaguing her seems to be wearing off, and he's immensely glad. He's missed his friend.

Just like he misses his bondmate.

She hasn't sung to him in over a week. There have been silences before, but never this... heavy.

He and Dakota rush into the Mystery Shack, sopping wet and laughing, though Ford worries his sounds slightly flat. If Dakota notices it, she doesn't mention it.

She tosses her camera bag on the table, then heads upstairs to shower off the downpour. Ford smiles until she vanishes, then lets it drop. He likes Dakota, but not even her company in monster hunting can replace the comfort he never realized he got from his bondmate's songs.  

Dakota starts singing from upstairs, and Ford frowns. Slaps the side of his head with one hand, metal plate giving a dull clang as he does. It sounds like he's hearing two slightly different variations on the same song. Is he picking up interference...?

His heart stops.

No.

But yes.

He's in the Mystery Shack gift shop before he can realize his legs are moving, out of earshot from the upstairs shower. He knows the song that's being sung, knows where in the verse Dakota should be, matching up perfectly to the version he hears in his head.

It matches.

His legs are moving again, thudding rapidly up the stairs to pound on the bathroom door. He feels like he's going to laugh, or cry, or throw up.

Dakota opens the door in her shorts and tank top, still drenched in rainwater, the steam from the shower rising up and framing her like an angel walking out of heaven's clouds. Her left arm rests on the door, giving Ford a perfect view of the churning colours on her skin.

It looks exactly how Ford feels.

 END

[beautifulletdownfics]

Twenty Good Reasons :: Part One

Hello!  Welcome to the ‘Someday, Someday’ sequel! I hope you’ll enjoy your time here!  Before you start, make sure you check out the Harry & Nina Chronology page to catch up on a few of the drabbles and novellas that slot in the gap between ‘Someday, Someday’ and ‘Twenty Good Reasons’. As always, please don’t be strangers, posting into the void is a terrifying thing! Love K x

+++

I wrote a symphony.

I had written a symphony and tonight I was conducting the London Symphony Orchestra in what would be my professional debut as a composer and conductor. London’s Royal Albert Hall was sold out, a fact I sincerely wished the Director of Music kept to himself. I tried not to think about the magnitude of the opportunity I had tonight to disappoint, to not live up to what was expected of me.

The conductor’s suite was cold and quiet around me, and with no instrument to tune to keep my hands busy, I was flipping through a five-year-old edition of Hello Magazine. My eyes stared at the clock on the wall, not taking in any of the dated royal gossip or reality star news, it was an odd juxtaposition really—London’s premier music venue housing a copy of the gossip rag from the pits of hell.

Months of tension and trying to sleep through the noise of dozens of melodies simultaneously rolling through my thoughts at once had finally dissipated into an unsettling silence. The notes weren’t fluid anymore, they were set, and a seventy piece orchestra knew the movements backwards and forwards.

It was anti-climatic in the sense that the worry and stress didn’t end, they just became centred in a different place. Instead of biting my nails over crescendos and harmonies, I was in the middle of an even more terrifying process of considering how it all might sound to the thousands of people above me, being ushered to their seats.

I picked at the sequinned hem of my dress and wondered what the heck I was supposed to do tomorrow.

Tomorrow—when I wasn’t writing and rewriting the movements anymore—when what felt like my life’s work was out there, and I couldn’t hide it way anymore. Did I just wake up as usual, walk to the cafe down the street and order a latte? Sit at a window seat, and one by one delete all the notes and voice memos on my phone from the last twelve months of writing? Did I immediately start work on a follow-up? Would anybody want a follow up from me?

I suddenly wished more than anything that I was in the green room with my peers warming up my horn for any typical performance. Knowing I was going to walk out on stage after they did made my stomach hollow out.

My phone started vibrating from its spot on the vanity in the corner, and when I got to it, I stood over it for a little while, looking at Harry’s name flash up on the screen with a call. After three years my instinct was to reach out to Harry whenever I felt like this; like I wasn’t in control of how time was moving, and I wasn’t sure how to reach back into my life and be present. My fingers itched to answer his call, to hear his voice and be comforted by whatever lovely and motivating things he would say.

But I couldn’t. I’d fall apart if I heard Harry's voice tonight because he wasn’t here. He wasn’t here, and that something I was completely unprepared for.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault, not really.

If anything the fact Harry couldn’t be here was because of me. Harry planned his Asian touring dates around when my debut was supposed to take place, a few weeks from now. A month ago I played tonight’s suites in full to the orchestra board and directors, and they decided they wanted to move everything forward, opening the season with my debut instead of having it in the middle of the season.

It was a promotion for my work, and it was a huge show of faith and support from my community. But it meant Harry had shows with tickets already sold and there was no good way of telling fans in four cities they were going to be refunded or offered tickets for alternate dates. Particularly when Harry’s picture was sure to show up in London somewhere, and it would be plainly obvious he cancelled shows to see his girlfriend.

A text flashed up on my phone.

Harry: I love you. You’re going to be fantastic. Remember to breathe. x

It was sweet of him to text, he would know more than anyone how I was feeling. I didn’t have it in me to do the time conversion to where he was at the moment. He was right in the middle of the Asian leg. I tried my best to swallow my sadness down—I knew Harry wasn’t choosing to miss this.

After finding out tonight’s performance was going to be so much earlier than I had expected the time flew by quickly as I went through all the rigours of finalising the score and then rehearsing it with the orchestra. It had been four weeks of early mornings and late nights, fielding questions from players and getting it up to performance standard. Harry was a saint for dealing will all my teary FaceTime calls and the almost daily texts about giving up.

I tried not to overthink how wrong it felt knowing Harry wouldn’t be there afterwards to celebrate with my family and friends. All the late nights I spent with Harry pouring over my compositions trying to find the notes that were out of place and to then not have him sitting in the audience the first time it was played—and my first time conducting a professional orchestra … It felt like I was being robbed of something.

He was the perfect helper over the twelve months the symphony took to write. Some parts happened quickly, and others were hard-won, with dozens of edits and reprises. Harry was the best second set of ears I could have asked for. He learned over the years how music was put together, and when I was pathetic and frustrated in the middle of the night, he spoke my language in calm, loving perfection.

I had my dad to be my critical, technical sounding board, and my boyfriend to be the ever encouraging, soft set of hands I needed when it all felt hopeless. Harry knew when to push me to keep going, and when to pull me from the room and distract my mind with something else.

I missed him.

Harry and I hadn’t spent more than 72 hours together in four months. There were a handful of weekend visits—most notably my twenty-fourth birthday we spent in Copenhagen—and three days quite recently spending Christmas with our families ... But beyond that, Harry and I were doing long distance, the end in sight but too far away to be a real comfort yet.

In some ways, the four months apart seemed to had passed exceptionally quickly, but in others—mainly the ones that seemed to carry the most weight—it was as if time had slowed to twice it’s speed and filling the extra space was all the time I spent missing him.

I spent half my days hating technology—hating talking through a phone with typed or faceless words, and hating early mornings on Skype where a 2D depiction of Harry could only soothe so far—and the rest of the days clutching my phone like a lifeline, praising the 21st century for its ability to connect to people on opposite sides of the planet.

We made it work, which was a line I’d stolen from Harry in interviews over the years. But it was true, nonetheless. Sometimes it felt overly simplistic, but there was a simple truth to it that I liked.

Today though, I had vowed to be happy even in his absence.

“Ten-minute call,” My eyes snapped to the PA system in the corner, and I let out a long stream of breath.

It was time.

+++

I held my baton tightly in front of me, shaking from the adrenalin.

I deliberately avoided looking to where I knew my family and friends were sitting when the house lights were turned on.

The applause was almost deafening and completely overwhelming. I held up my arm to the orchestra, diverting the praise of the audience to the players behind me. They had done spectacularly, and once my heart was done exploding from my chest, and I came down off all my nerves, I would be able to adequately comprehend it all.

The applause started quietening down as the Director of Music, Ian, walked out to join me on stage, a handheld microphone in his hand. He kissed my cheek and gave me a warm hug, calling for another round of applause for me that I awkwardly stood through. I recalled our conversation eighteen months ago, where he encouraged me to do this, to challenge myself.

There was a loud whoop from behind me, and I laughed when the horns section was on their feet cheering me from their positions. They were my closest allies in the orchestra and they’d more than earned their stripes tonight. I gave them a little bow and turned back to the front.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our very own Maestro Nina Lawrence,” Ian said into the microphone, smiling through the distinguished term that I definitely hadn't earned yet, “I am sure this is only the beginning of what we will see from you,” He smiled at me.

There were a few more moments on stage before he led me off, the orchestra following close behind me. I sat on the first seat I found in the wings, tilting my feet back onto my heels and dragging my hands through my hair.

“Ni-na!” My name was called out as the players spilled into the green room, a body pressed up next to me, and someone grabbed my arm, “You’re fucking brilliant!”

I smiled up at one of the trumpet players, “Thank you. I feel like I’m about to combust.”

Somebody shouted for a toast, and I watched, completely surprised, by the arrival of trays of flutes of champagne. By the time all the officials and board members had given their own motivational, encouraging addresses, congratulating me and everyone for all their hard work, nearly all my family had snuck in. Friends too were now making faces at me from across the room where they all stood near the door.

When everyone broke apart, I made a beeline for them, asking one of the venue wait staff to follow me with a  tray of drinks. My shoulders hurt by the time I was finished getting hugs from everyone, some tearier than others, my dad the teariest of all. My cousins and my childhood best friends mingling with friends from the orchestra and my life with Harry in a way that overwhelmed me with a sense of belonging to a powerful group of people. Finally, I tucked myself under Rodger’s arm for a touch of respite from the limelight, my back almost touching the wall behind us as he chatted to Laykn and Max.

“None of those sad eyes today, alright?” Rodger turned his head down to the side of my face and spoke under his breath.

“Shhh,” I squeezed his fingers near my shoulder as I took a deep breath and tried to swallow against the tight feeling pressing against my throat, “I’m not sad.”

“Nina,” He chuckled, “You’re inches off looking like you’re attending a funeral.”

“That’s not true!” I argued feebly, chancing a look at him and giving him wide eyes like that might convince him. As Rodger didn’t know me better than almost anybody else.

“It is,” Rodger bit back, smiling at my mother who turned around when my old flatmate failed to whisper quietly enough, she gave us a concerned look but went back to chatting to a friend of our father’s, “And Harry would be so upset if he knew he was ruining this for you,” Rodger’s voice was softer now, “I know this is worse for him. Everyone you love is celebrating with you today, and he’s literally one of the furthest places on earth from you that he could possibly be.”

“It’s not his fault,” I said quietly, looking at my nails and picking at a loose bit of skin I’d been biting all week.

“No, it’s not,” Rodger agreed, resting his head on the crown of my head slowly in warm affection, “But he’s watched you work so hard for this for years, Nina … I know he’d be distraught if he thought you were going to be sad all day because he can’t be here.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “You know it, do you?”

Rodger halted for half a second and then I felt him shrug against me, “He might’ve sent me one of his perfectly punctuated text messages last night instructing me to kick you up the arse if you started looking weepy.”

Something pinched at my heart at Harry’s pro-active concern, “I can’t believe he’d describe me as ‘weepy’,” I huffed, knowing that was precisely the word my boyfriend would use.

“This isn’t about him, this is your night.”

The thing was that my friend was so right about what Harry’s reaction would be to my outwardly missing him today. Harry had lectured me numerous times this week.

When my family and friends followed me back to the conductor’s suite for one more champagne before the celebratory dinner my parents had insisted on organising, I was unable to not still feel disconnected somehow. There was relief though, and an astronomical sense of achievement and satisfaction, and for the first time all day, I felt caught up in the happiness of it all.

The room felt far bigger when I was in here alone before the performance, it was much nicer crammed with my loved ones, all lightly teasing and bullying me. It was loving, and I could read the pride on their faces. I got extra hugs from both my parents and from aunt Anne and my uncle Ted. The cousins and my brother were out in full force—Martin refused to stop filming me and asking mock, documentary-style questions, Josh and Ben didn’t stop trying to make me re-enact walking across the stage. And Oliver was doing impressions of me, waving my baton around and tugging on the lapels of the new suit he got for his tenth birthday.

My dad was holding his phone up taking photos the whole time, managing to wrangle us all together into the groups he wanted. I felt like I’d had an individual photo with everyone a hundred times over.

“It’s the middle of the night in Tokyo,” Laykn draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side, letting me take a sip of his warm champagne. He knew me well enough to know I had checked my phone a few too many times.

I just wanted to hear from Harry.

“I know,” I sighed, “Sorry.”

“Nah,” My younger brother dismissed, “It’s alright. You miss him, that’s okay. Maybe it means you’ll be nice and let me eat your fries at dinner.”

“Ha, fat chance,” I told him. “And I’m not sure this is a fries kind of place.”

Laykn looked at me playfully down his nose, his fingers darting about pocking his tie back through the gaps in his shirt,  “It’s a rich people’s place, Nina. They’ll make you whatever you want as long as the booking name is under Harry Styles.”

I punched Laykn in the arm, and he laughed loudly, “You’re a jerk. Mum and dad organised dinner.”

“I think Harry pulled some strings,” Laykn teased, “And don’t kid yourself, I’m your favourite jerk,” He amended quickly.

“Yeah, whatever,” I agreed, “I’m going to go find the bathroom,” I whispered right into his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of the room.

I waited until I was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with the lid down before I unlocked my phone again. I checked any of the places communication from Harry might’ve come from, but then when all my email and messaging apps were coming up blank, I had to fight off the disappointment without tearing up.

I knew that it was still essentially nighttime in Japan where he was, but that didn't stop my heart breaking a little at the fact I’d just lived out one of the biggest days in my life while Harry slept. It had been a big day for me, and although I handled days like this a lot better than I might’ve when we were first dating, knowing that Harry was at least awake at the same time was more comforting than I’d care to admit.

After taking a few moments to actually use the facilities, I gave myself one final pep talk in the vast, softly lit mirror before readjusting my dress and mentally preparing myself for what I knew would be a boisterous dinner.

I walked out of the restrooms, flipping my phone over in my hands and concentrating on taking a few deep, filling breaths. The bare concrete walls of the backstage tunnels were marked up with dozens of scrapes and a patchwork of different staging tape. It was chilly too, and I told myself to put my coat on when I got back to everyone, we needed to leave for dinner soon.

“Hey pretty lady," I heard just behind me, my peripheral catching just the slightest movement of someone off the wall.

He smiled when I turned back to face him.

The light glistening in his eyes was the first thing I noticed. But my heart started racing, and my legs were moving before I could really think what was happening, all I knew was that the string connecting my heart to my tear ducts was tugging wildly.

Harry.

He was standing wearing a beautifully tailored pair of high waisted black suit pants, a soft white tee and double-breasted black blazer. I was sure my mouth was hanging open as wide as it felt my heart was busting open in my chest, “Harry!”

"Surprise," He giggled out, bending his neck down slightly when I opened up my arms and reached towards him on my tippy toes, folding my arms up over his shoulders. His arms crossed at the small of my back, and all the air left my lungs when he pulled me against him tightly. “Kept me waiting out here long enough, I didn’t want to make you cry in front of everyone.”

"I hate you," I whined through the shock, but my throat was clogged up with the tears that had already started escaping my eyes. “You’ve been here the whole time? When did you arrive?”

“A few hours beforehand … Tried calling you when we got here though,” He mumbled into my neck, “I was regretting not telling you I was coming because I knew your nerves would be killing you, but you didn’t answer.”

“I knew I’d cry if I spoke to you, I just wanted you here.” “Well, I was here,” He laughed, “And you were fucking phenomenal. I cried like a baby.”

“You’re here!”

Harry's grip on me tightened, and he stood up a little, pulling me with his body, “I am. You look beautiful."

“You haven't seen me in four months," I sniffed, turning my head to press my nose into his neck.

"God, don't I know it," Harry moved his hands up my back and settled them on my shoulders, "Fuck, why do I do this to myself? You're an angel," He pulled back and leaned down to kiss me.

Our lips were hopeless at staying together, even though we hadn’t kissed in months and months. The emotions were catching up with me, and I struggled to settle anywhere between laughing and sniffing back my tears. Harry’s lips turned up into a smile and he pulled my forehead against his, watching through amused, wetted eyes as I tried to keep myself from bawling.

“You’re useless,” He laughed, sniffing away his own emotions when I traced my fingers under his eyes to catch the tears.

“What are you doing here,” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut and moving up again to press my cheek against Harry’s in a desperate attempt to feel closer. “You’re in Japan.”

“I’m not in Japan,” He said softly, “I’m here for you. No one’s as proud of you as I am, Nina, you’ve worked so hard for this.”

“Stop,” I groaned, embarrassed.

“It’s true,” He defended seriously, “You’ve got more talent than anyone I know, and you work harder than everyone else as well. The performance was astounding, you had the whole room captivated. Your work is beautiful and you should be so proud. I’m so proud.”

“Stop,” I interjected.

“It’s true,” Harry swallowed thickly, “You’re always working towards getting better and being better, and you’re constantly creating something completely brilliant that half the time I don’t understand until you stop and baby it down for me … You’re incredible, and I’m so proud of you, my Maestro.”

I felt myself blush, having heard Harry sprout out that affectionate declaration many times before.

“Did everyone know?” I asked, still holding him tight.

“That I was coming?” His chest moved against mine in a few small chuckles after I nodded against him, “Yeah.”

“All of them?” I thought of my whole family and all my friends sitting waiting for me to return from the bathroom.

“Every last, stinking one,” Harry said in what he thought was an endearing Dennis the Menace impression. I pulled back and smiled as I looked up and watched him continue, “There was no way on earth I wasn’t going to be here for this. No fucking way.”

“Seriously,” I shook my head and swallowed back another lot of tears, “You can’t be here right now, you’re in the middle of tour, and you’ve got shows every—“

“Shhh,” Harry took my lips between his again for a few seconds, “Don’t worry about any of that, you think I wouldn’t move mountains to be here? I’m here.”

I smiled and let the tears escape this time, “I love you.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I love you, too.”

I settled back down into my heels and shook my head, "I can't believe it. This morning I woke up thinking there was still three weeks before I'd see you ... And now ..."

He grinned, "I pulled off the perfect surprise then. C'mon, your brother has been texting me for the last twenty minutes about how hungry he is. Impatient little git, isn't he?"

I rolled my eyes and let Harry arrange our fingers together in a tight hold, ”He's famished apparently.”

Harry’s lips pressed into the hair just above my ear before he stood up straighter and slowly took a step forward. I let him lead me along for a few steps before overwhelming happiness overcame me, and I skipped ahead to tuck myself under his arm snugly.

"I love you, Harry Styles,” I told him quietly, ducking my head when we came to a junction where the greenrooms met the holding room, “Thank you so much for coming.”

There was a small tug on my hand and then Harry stopped walking, looking down at me curiously he tilted his head to one side, “You’re welcome, but I hope you realise coming was less than altruistic of me … I’ve been pretty desperate to see you as well, Neens.”

“‘Cause I’m your favourite person?” I said, grinning when Harry’s thumb dug into my side.

“Damn straight, you are,” He nodded, hooking his hand around my neck and leading my lips up to his.

I shut my eyes and let the kiss be led by Harry. He kept it slow, dragging his lips up to my temple and resting them there for a moment.

“Your family will think I’ve kidnapped you,” Harry said slowly as he wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed once before letting me go again and starting to walk. “And I’m starving as well, let’s go, yeah?”

I latched both my hands over one of Harry’s and manoeuvred us quickly back to where everyone was. There was a room full of happy faces when we finally got there, together, and I shrunk into Harry’s side shyly at the stupid catcalls from them all. Georgie held her phone up recording the moment with the promise of sending me the ‘adorable’ photos later. Laykn muttered something about it being ‘about bloody time', Harry beamed though, kissing me firmly in front of everyone.

+++

It was sweet relief to finally be in the back of a cab pressed neatly beside Harry on the way to dinner. I dropped my head to his shoulder sleepily even though I knew we were only a few blocks from where the Langham was.

Harry quickly greeted the driver and said the name of the street we needed before he turned covered my thigh with his palm and massaged it slowly, “Do you think we should get a pet?”

“A pet?” I asked, completely surprised by what came out of his mouth.

“Yeah.” “That’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“Been thinking about it for a while,” He misheard my tone. “We should get a pet, don’t you think?

“No, I absolutely do not think,” I challenged him, “Pets are so much work, and you go away all the time and what if I want to come to see you? It’d be annoying for us to have a pet.”

Without looking at him I knew the face he was pulling, all wide-eyed and pouted lip, “But imagine having a little furry bundle of love in our lives, Nina. I think you’ve been very flippant in dismissing what could be the best decision we ever make.”

“Harry.”

“I want a puppy, Nina,” He went on, taking a deep breath and racing through his words like that might convince me,  “A little fluffy one that needs help learning to howl and hates walking on the kitchen tiles. A cockapoo, like Rodger and Adriana’s dog. Doesn’t that sound adorable?”

“Harry, we can’t—

“—I said,” He interrupted, “Doesn’t that sound adorable, Nina? With little paws and that look of love, only dogs can give? And when we’re both away Gem can take it, or Josh.”

“Har—

“—Or Laykn! We can send little Pauper to university with your brother for a few days.”

“Pauper?” I gave Harry a look.

“Great name, hey? I’ve been brainstorming.”

“What makes you think I’d let you call our puppy ‘Pauper’. What a stupid name for a dog.”

Harry smiled widely, “Our puppy, eh?”

I paused, realising my mistake, “Shut up.”

He laughed at me and raised his arm up to rest it around me and pull me against his side, “I’m going to win this, I can tell.”

“You’re really not.” “Am too.”

We rode in silence then, the radio playing softly upfront and the streets of London slipping past us in their usual way. Harry was humming along, and when I eventually turned to look back at him, his eyes were already watching me.

“What?” I asked quickly, sitting up and moving out of his arms.

“Love you, you were fucking incredible up there tonight,” He said quietly, leaning his head back against the seat and not changing his relaxed expression in the slightest. His slight smile only created half dimples in his cheeks, and I found myself entranced by the curl of his eyelashes.

I felt my cheeks heat up immediately, “You’ve got that look.”

His eyes widened a little as his fingers snuck across my lap to reach for my hands, “What look is that?”

“The one where you’re secretly imagining me naked,” I said bluntly.

“Ha!” Harry didn’t hide his amusement at all, letting out one loud sound and then falling into an adorable bout of silent laughter, he leant forward and placed a hot kiss to the shell of my ear, “Well, it’s not a secret anymore, is it?”

“Harry!” I smacked him in the chest with my free hand which he quickly grabbed at and held in place.

“The best part is that now you’re imaging me naked,” Harry hummed out lightly.

Before any more could be said, the car was stopping, which had Harry kicking open the door and pulling me out with him. I stood for a second and waited for him to take my hand, leading me up the front steps and straight to the reception of the restaurant.

Inside everyone was already seated, and on their first drinks, I walked around the table and greeted everyone individually. We had a round table in a vast, impeccably styled private dining room. Two seats had been left free for Harry and me, he took the spot next to my dad, and I lowered myself into the place next to my mum.

It was the first time all day I actually felt relaxed. I sat back in my chair and let the pain in my feet ease. The boys were all challenging each other to different meals, making up anything that was in a different language and then convincing Oliver anything foreign would just taste like chicken. Isobel, Georgie and Sam were asking Harry about Japan, listing off a particular liquor they wanted him to bring back for the next time we drank together.

Everyone took far too long deciding what to eat and then even longer actually getting through all the food that arrived. Harry told me he slept through the food on the plane over and was much hungrier than even he knew. I let him take from my plate much to Laykn’s dismay.

“Happy?” My mum leaned over and put her arm around my shoulder for a quick hug, whispering and then watching my reaction with a massive smile on her face.

I pulled Harry, and I’s joined hands over onto my lap like he might disappear if he wasn’t as close as I could get him, “Yeah,” I replied, “Perfect.”

“You look happy,” She observed, “And Harry’s got his dopey face on.”

I laughed and looked back over to my boyfriend who was blushing at something Josh and Martin were teasing him about, “Do you know how long he’s got or …”

When I turned back around to face her, there had been a definite fall in her features, “Nina … He just got here, why don’t you—“

“—I know,” I cut her off, “I know. Harry isn’t meant to be here at all, who cares how long he can stay, right?”

She gave me a small smile and a kiss on my cheek just before I was pulled into defending Harry against whatever he was being attacked for now. Everyone looked happy, though, and I was glad to sit and be taken into whatever conversations I could. It was fun, and it felt almost like it was the holidays, and we all had nothing to do but enjoy each other. I found myself thankful for the occasion in an entirely different way to how I had appreciated it earlier in the day.

Eventually, after an embarrassing dessert experience that involved my receiving a ‘debut cake’, everyone started looking at watches and deciding it was time to end the dinner. Anybody who didn’t live in London had been invited by Harry to stay at our house.

“We’re not going with them,” Harry said to me at the last minute, after the bill was paid and we were all standing out farewelling each other in the foyer.

I looked over at my parents who seemed to already know this information, and everyone else was already loading into Ubers and Cabs.

“We aren’t?”

Harry smiled, “Say goodbye,” He nodded towards my family, and I offered them all a small wave without hiding my confusion.

“Where are we—”

Harry leant down and kissed me quickly, “—I got us a room for the night.”

“Here?” I asked astonished.

He nodded.

My eyes nearly fell out of my head, “Harry! That’s mental! This place is fancy.”

“Yeah,” He changed our positions, so his arm was draped across my shoulders and he started leading me over to the hotel reception, “Well … You’re a gorgeous woman in a beautiful dress, and I ironed this shirt so I’d say we’re pretty fancy. And it’s a celebration … Not to mention the fact we’ve hardly seen each other in four months …”

“Harry,” I warned slowly, feeling myself grow jittery when I saw the glint in his eyes.

He moved his hand down my arm and rested it across the back of my ribcage, fanning out his fingers to reach as high as he could, “I’ve missed you,” Harry whispered in my ear lowly, “And you look bloody stunning, Nina. I didn’t feel much like sharing you with your family at home.”

Home.

That was a concept that I was still getting used to, despite it having been almost a year since I moved all my things in with Harry. Probably because I’d spent most of that time highly stressed about composing, and Harry had been away for so much of it. But still, the fact remained, we lived together now and with that simple fact came a new level of pure intimacy that I relished in. I could only imagine how much better it would feel to have a good chunk of time together there come to the end of the tour for Harry.

“What’re you thinking about? Me naked?” Harry’s voice came right into my ear again.

We were standing at the desk, waiting behind another couple, and Harry moved around to stand tightly behind me, his arm affectionately across my neck.

I looked at him from the side of my eyes, “Just how nice it’ll be to actually live together for an extended period.”

“Hmm,” Harry agreed readily before stepping forward and introducing himself, he turned back to me while we waited for the check-in paperwork, “It will be pleasant.”

“Seriously, how much are you spending on—” I asked, reaching up onto my tippy toes when a piece of paper was placed in front of Harry.

“Oh-oh,” He tutted, plucking it up and shifting, so his back was to me, he smiled at the receptionist, signing his name quickly, “This is perfect, thank you.” She disappeared again, and he turned back to me, I tried not to think about how much whatever extravagant room we were about to stay in would be costing him. Not to mention the cost of him flying out here from Japan in the first place.

I caught a familiar movement over his shoulder and quickly diverted my eyes, “Does it matter if you’re seen here with me?”

Harry frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Someone just took a photo.”

Harry looked back over his shoulder to where I was looking, “Oh,” He turned back to me, “No, it’s okay.”

A keycard was handed over, and Harry profusely thanked the receptionist who pointed us in the direction of the elevators. We walked passed the group where I had seen the photo being taken, Harry gave them a polite little wave with a coolness I know I lacked.

When the doors opened, and we stepped inside, I watched Harry in the mirror as he pressed the for the flood we wanted, “It feels odd not having bags, doesn’t it?”

“Feels sexy,” Harry grinned.

“It feels conspicuous,” I returned.

Harry chuckled, leaning over to kiss my forehead, “I brought some things from home over earlier.”

“Oh.”

“You’re just so cute when you’re worried about silly things, Neens,” He explained.

I was about to rebut when we came to the door for our room. Harry opened it with no hesitation—his years of staying in hotels showing— and he propped open the door for me to walk in ahead of him. I ducked under his arm and hung my evening bag on the back of the door, continuing to where the whole room opened up to an expanse of windows.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the drawing desk by the window. Sitting up in a long, white vase was a dozen white and red roses.

“Harry … What are these?”

“Happy debut,” He said behind me as he pressed his chest to my back and wound his arms around my front, when I looked down he was holding a medium-sized, navy box out in front of me, “This is for you as well.”

I slowly took the box out of his hands and straight away he held them firmly across my stomach. His chin rested on my neck, and he observed as I ran my finger over the engraving on the front.

“Harry Winston,” I read the engraved name, “What on earth—

“Open it,” Harry instructed softly, turning his head to one side to press a kiss to the base of my neck.

The box opened with a satisfying pop sound and it folded out like a flower. Resting in the velvet insert was a beautiful, round pendant necklace.

“Harry, you’re not supposed to get me something.”

“Take out,” He urged, poking the back of my hand with his index finger.

“I don’t want to break it.”

Harry chuckled lightly, “You won’t. Take it out, and we’ll put it on you.”

It turned out that it was quite hard to extract from the box, and in the end, Harry in his own fit of giggles had to pull out the whole lining of the box and work from the underside to get it out. But he managed to get the necklace out and just before he put it on he made me go into the bathroom with him, so I’d be able to see in the mirror.

“Lovely,” He declared once the clasp was secured and the small pendant was resting on my skin. Harry ran his hands down my arms and back up again while I inspected how I looked wearing it.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I decided very quickly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry returned, looking very pleased with himself behind me.

The movement of his hands halted for a moment as he bent down a little to kiss the back of my neck gently. It was a soft kiss that sent something delicious all the way down my spine and the back of my legs. He hummed against my skin, and his fingers trailed up to the zip at the top of my dress, carefully dragging it down to pull the two sides apart carefully.

“We’re going to have to hang this up if I’m going to be doing the walk of shame in it tomorrow,” I told him, referring to my dress.

“My girlfriend doesn’t do walks of shame,” Harry corrected with a growl, his hands slow and deliberate in their movements, “I’ve got something for you to wear tomorrow and pyjamas.”

“You have?” I turned around in his arms and was honestly surprised by him being that prepared.

“I do,” He said in a funny, high pitched voice, “What did you think I meant when I said I brought some things over earlier? It’s moments like these it comes out that you don’t think very much of my gentlemanly ways.”

I moved my arms up to rest over his shoulders and pulled myself up onto my tippy toes, “I’m happy to be proved wrong.”

Harry’s eyes went to my lips then, and I knew there wasn’t going to be much more talking. He pulled me against him and started out the kisses slow and sweet, getting me ready for when the four months of not seeing each other took over, and our hands started moving of their own accord.

It didn’t take long before Harry had me lying on my back on the bed, my dress over the back of the nearest chair and Harry’s nice clothes draped over the top of them. From there it was all hushed words of missing each other, and incomprehensible noises that only made the moment hotter and more dizzying.

After three years so much about sex with Harry was better than I ever could’ve imagined. Because he knew me on so many different levels, the physical connection between us was only heightened. And it grew in me some enormous sense of pride to know I was the only one who got Harry curling his toes together and panting against my skin.

He was all mine, and I got every inch of him to myself.

It was well past one in the morning by the time we were lying side by side, and I was finally reflecting on the day as a whole. My stomach was filled with a warm, settled feeling just having Harry next to me in bed again. Sleeping alone had been something I hated getting used to still. Having another, albeit longer, body beside me I was sure was the best end result I never would’ve dared to dream might happen today.

“What time are you setting it for?”

Harry stopped moving his fingers across his phone screen and turned his head my way, “What?”

I made a point of looking where the clock app was open in front of him, “What time are you setting your alarm for?”

“Neens,” He said sadly, not giving me an answer but only giving me a look that said whatever his response would be I wouldn’t like it.

“Harry, what time?” I asked again, moving my head over to rest against his shoulder for a better look at the screen, “Three a.m.?” I readout.

“Nina—

“—Three in the morning! Harry, what the hell kind of insane time is that? You can’t—

I was cut off by Harry rolling onto his side and forcing me into silence with a kiss, “Don’t get upset, Nina. It’s okay.”

I frowned and watched him as he hovered over me, “You’re leaving in the middle of the night?”

“I can’t stay any longer, I’m sorry. I’ve got an interview I can’t miss before tomorrow night’s show.”

My eyes widened in shock, “You’ve got a show tomorrow … Tonight?” I corrected myself.

“The time difference is a bit funky, but basically, yes.”

It dawned on me then that Harry had only had a day and a half off, that he had jumped on a plane after a matinee and had to be back for a show the following evening. That instead of going out to dinner with the crew and then sleeping until midday like I’m sure he needed, he had flown thirteen hours to London to have not even ten hours on the ground before flying back again.

He wouldn’t even see daylight in the UK.

“Why did you come?” I asked in a small voice, feeling tears welling with the guilt that was settling in. He was going to be exhausted for days from crossing all the time zones.

He let out a horrified laugh, “Why did I come?” He repeated, sounding every bit as defensive as I expected him to be, “I came because today was a huge day for you, and because I could, and because I wanted to.”

“You’re going to get sick from being tired and all the travel.”

“I don’t care,” He shook his head and hooked a leg between mine, “I don’t care.”

I pulled his neck down and held him there until he settled most of his weight on top of me in a tight cuddle, “I don’t want you to go so soon,” I sniffed.

Harry’s hands ran up my sides from my hips, settling under my arms and warming the skin below my breasts, “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, you idiot, ” I laughed through new tears, “You’re here. You came. You’re too good to me.”

“I love you, Nina Lawrence.”

“I know,” I sighed, containing my emotions slowly.

“I’ll always come when I can.”

“I know.”

++

Well, there’s our intro to Harry & Nina, 3 years later. What did you think? Predictions? 

[fablesrose]

Of Kings and Shadows XVII

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

Masterlist

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

"Say what now?" Tony rocked back and forth on his heels to his toes, growing impatient.

Fury slid the file towards him on his desk, "I need you to look for any weak spots on these machines so we can take them down easily on your next mission."

Tony visibly clenched and released his fists, trying to stay calm, "And what happened to looking for Y/n?"

Fury took a deep breath, knowing this was going to get messy, "I'm sorry, but it's been too long with no leads. That can't be our main focus anymore, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

"So you're just going to give up on her?!"

"No, Tony, but we have to accept that we might not find her. We have missions that we need executing and oh I don't know, taking down Hydra!"

Tony's face started to turn red, "All these people!" He pointed towards where Shield agents were working just down the hall, "are just expendable to you aren't they!? All just little pawns ready to be sacrificed for your little game!"

Fury slammed his hands on the desk, "I cared about her too Tony!" The room became eerily quiet, the only sound was heavy breathing. "She was a good agent, I just can't put all of my resources into finding her anymore."

Tony rubbed his face in his hand while nodding his head in understanding. He took a couple of steps towards the desk and slid the file into his hand. He said in a whisper, "I'll look this over, get it back to you soon as I can..." He turned back towards the door, head slightly bowed.

"Tony."

"Yes?" He didn't turn around, only tilting his head towards the director.

Fury opened a drawer, "It-- It's been checked for sensitive Shield information, so if you want to keep it for her..." He gently placed a phone on the desk, making sure to give Tony his space.

Tony turned back around slowly, eyes flickering from the phone to Fury who took a step back. He picked it up gently and gave it a quick once over. The case was worn, well used. There was a crack or two in the glass screen protector, but the phone itself was in good condition. He sucked his teeth for a moment before patting his hand and pointing at Fury with the phone. He didn't say anything, but neither of them needed to. He exited the office and closed the door behind him.

Once Fury was alone he sat heavily in his chair. He didn't know what he was going to do with them. They were already hard to keep under wraps but trying to get them to work now was going to be a nightmare. Fury wasn't sure if he should be glad that he got Tony done early on. He was sure the most vocal, but the others can be challenging in entirely worse and different ways. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eye, it was going to be a hard couple of weeks and Fury needed all the rest he could get.

The file stared at Tony, the metal shavings and oil residue leaving stains around the corners. He really should be working on it, but instead, the lovingly used smartphone in his hand was occupying his mind. He didn't know exactly what to do, even if he acted like it. If there was one thing he did know, however, it was technology. Tony made sure he had Jarvis back up all the information, the notes, the pictures, the music that she lived by.

Tony tried multiple times to open the file to review it, but he found himself picking up the smartphone again and again. He was puzzled at first as he was sure she had a passcode to keep us, snoopy people, out, but she didn't have one when Fury passed it over. Not that it would make much of a difference since both Tony and Natasha were skilled at hacking with Clint having somewhat of a hand for it. Tony wasn't sure what Loki's abilities were, but he wouldn't put it past him. The rest of the team didn't have the technical ability or desire to pry... on Y/n at least. He came to the conclusion that since Shield looked through it they took the passcode off.

He kept flipping through somewhat familiar pictures and smiling at the old songs.

He wasn't the only one who wasn't moving on from the loss.

Natasha kept hacking into Shield and into the compound. She found all the security tapes with Y/n on them. Both Tony and Fury knew about it, but once they saw what she was looking at they let her be. She kept watching the footage, sometimes freezing the frame to see her smiling face, other times watching some of the happy moments together over and over again. Tony sometimes joined her. Not in person, but he would tap into her hacking session and watch what memories she would dig up. She was rarely alone while watching the recordings. Clint would join her. They sat in silence, hearts aching in tune, what would have happened if they had never dragged her into their missions? What if they were never friends in the first place? Fortunately, or maybe less so, they knew they couldn't turn back time, and loss was not new to them. With how long she had been gone, all they could do was hope she was dead, or if she wasn't, that she hasn't been suffering.

Thor was having a hard time wrapping his head around how to cope. He knew she was gone, but his concept of loss seemed different than the others. Maybe it was because he was a god and he perceived time differently. Maybe he came to peace with it more easily, honor, bravery, a true warrior, all that jazz. Or maybe he just had more time and experience to learn to hide it better. Despite his jovial exterior, most seemed to forget that he was from outside of human understanding.

Bruce buried himself in his work. He didn't want to talk to anyone, and if he did talk about Y/n everyone noticed an unnatural color rising up his neck. She was always kind to him, even if they were on a different page most of the time. He would have to leave the compound more often then he used to, get some fresh air. Tony didn't comment or complain when Bruce requested a jet to take him to a deserted wasteland. Sometimes it's best to just let it out and heaven knows the consequences to him bottling up the tension.

Steve never claimed to be close to her. He never claimed to be coping either. He hid behind his veteran demeanor, his captain mask. Steve tried to fall into his formal numbness, going to his go-to, "she was a good soldier." That was, at least, until Tony snarled at him, "We are not soldiers!"

Loki made sure to tread carefully. He knew first hand how much she meant to the rest of them and the means they would go to defend her. He mellowed down the snark and even most of his presence for a while. He was well aware of how much he grated on the others. The rest of the team didn't look any closer at his behavior and just let him be. Loki wasn't sure if he was grateful for that or not.

They all hit a little harder, ran a little faster, and worked a little longer. Caution was thrown to the wind, while also being increased ten-fold. Every camera was double, triple checked to be operational. Battles started to look more bloody, more messy, but oh so more satisfying. Backs were covered like an ironclad, but their own defenses had holes.

They knew it couldn't last forever, wouldn't last forever. They had to move on. This wasn't the first time they had lost someone, far from it. They also knew it was going to be far from the last time. For now, they took pleasure in beating, bruising, breaking, cutting, killing, bleeding. They used their anger for a little chaotic good.

The faint click and sliding sound of the shop door opening caused Tony to raise his head. He finally opened the file and started to review it, but the phone was sitting delicately under his fingertips on the bench.

Loki walked in, his footsteps light, but his shoulders not so much. The tension grew in the room, both men could feel it. Both knew that something better be apocalyptic for Loki to disturb Tony. And that was usually the only time Loki even tried.

"What do you want?" Tony was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially when he noticed the submissive body language that was so much different than when he usually saw him, but after the meeting with Fury and the stirred emotions of looking through the phone, Loki was standing on thin ice.

Loki started picking at his palm, "I- I heard Fury allowed you to possess Y/n's phone."

"Yes?" There was no reason for Tony to be angry, yet, but everything was grating on his nerves anyway.

Loki could hear the strain in Tony's voice and how he was trying to hold back. He tried to not be bothersome, but there was nothing Loki could do better. His eyes found their way to the phone just under Tony's fingers and he gestured a hand towards it, "May I?"

"Why do you care?! Are you going to break it like you almost broke her, huh?!" Tony exploded, his voice echoed around the machinery making his loud voice sound even louder. Tony wasn't sure why he brought it up. They had all gotten past it. No one really held a grudge from it anymore. Tony tried to reel himself in, but it wasn't working very well. He felt his throat clench and his eyes started to sting. He didn't say anything else for fear of what would slip out.

Tony didn't notice that Loki was slouching slightly until he straightened himself. His submissive demeanor faded, but he didn't turn aggressive, yet. "Y/n defended me when she had the power to leave me be and get injured, maybe die. I had yet to repay that debt. She was kind to me despite what I did to her. I understand your emotional state is tender at the moment. My apologies, I will take my leave." He silently turned around and began to head for the door.

Tony swallowed both his emotions and his pride, "No, wait, Loki."

Loki turned to the side so he could converse with Tony.

"I... I'm sorry," he nodded his head to himself, not sure what else to say. He tapped the phone screen gently with one of his fingers, thinking. After a couple of seconds, he picked it up from off the table, he held it out to Loki, "Here, take it."

Loki hesitated for a moment, that soft body language returned when he carefully took the phone from Tony's hand. He looked it over slowly, holding it with both hands. He turned the phone on and noticed there was no password. His eyes flashed with a bit of confusion, but then softened when he was able to see what apps she had. Loki's finger hovered above the music app when he came to it. He looked back up at Tony who was watching him curiously, "She liked her music, did she not?"

Tony let out a huff, "Yeah, I guess she did."

Loki nodded distractedly. He didn't say anything else before exiting the room just as quietly as he entered.

Tony puffed his cheeks and slowly let out a big breath while releasing the tension in his body. He looked at the clean rectangle on the table where the phone once rested. He sighed and attempted to focus on the file that he got from Fury but with Loki's visit his mind returned to Y/n.

"Jarvis, double your efforts on searching for Y/n. I want you looking at everything, especially any Hydra communication we have access to. We have to pick up Shield's slack."

"Of course sir."

TAG LIST: 

[fanfoolishness]

Steven Universe: Future thoughts

Spoilers for the first four episodes below the jump!  All sorts of rambling ahead!  Please message me or reblog to share your thoughts, I wanna talk about it all!

I’ll try to organize things by episode.  I won’t be able to rewatch them until they go up on Apple TV so this is all off the cuff.  AHOY!

1x01 Little Homeschool

Steven has White, Blue and Yellow essences in his bathroom cupboard.  Maybe keep a bottle of your own spit just to be safe?  You never know? 

Aww Cherry Quartz is cute.  Did she actually get named? I assume that’s who that is.

I had thought that shot in the trailer was going to be Pink Smoky Quartz.   I was wrong, but then we DO get Pink Smoky Quartz next episode ahhhh!

We all know Steven drew that picture of himself and the Diamonds on the brochure.  

I like to think that Steven keeps up with his drawing during quiet times, and while he isn’t technically great, most 16-year-old artists aren’t great per se.  What’s important is that he keeps doing it and he’ll keep getting better!

Little Homeschool looks awesome and I want to go make some morps with Vidalia.  Wait, were Lapis and Peridot there? I don’t remember.  They should be!

I’m so glad Jasper isn’t the big bad!!! And I love that she’s just antisocial but not actively harming anyone (beetles and grass aside).  

Still no explanation for the blanket, I love it

STEVEN GO OFF, YOU TELL HER NOT TO HURT THAT BEETLE

Whoa Steven, that rage is juuuuust below the surface these days, isn’t it?  I get being annoyed at Jasper and I’m sure this isn’t the first time they’ve had this discussion but he really does just go off on her pretty damn quickly, and several times.

I am concerned that he referenced her corrupting herself.  I DON’T WANT CORRUPTED STEVEN Y’ALL, this better not be foreshadowing!!!!!

Honestly Jasper just needs to get into wrestling, I’m shocked Amethyst and Steven haven’t pointed this out to her

I’m dying at her attacking all the Earthlings in her little radius

Awww Steven, at first he’s really intrigued by Diamond Mode and wants to learn how to use it better.  So optimistic!

Except you totally killed about 10 conifers and only healed one, so way to hurt the forest dude

Am I the only one wondering how conflicted Dr. Maheswaren must feel, knowing Steven can heal all this crazy shit and that a) she’s toiling at doing it the old-fashioned way, b) he could really help her patients, and c) he isn’t?

Looking forward to seeing Steven and Jasper talk again, but I really hope it’s not because Steven’s been corrupted and is trying to get over it.  Urrrgh no ;_;

I do want to see if she has tips for how to control anger.  Or how to use it and learn from it.  But I’m not sure she knows either.

Steven is a shark.  Because if he’s not swimming, he’s sinking.  And swimming to him is helping people.  If he can’t do that, if he can’t do what he’s supposed to do in his mind, what is he doing?  He’s gonna sink this season and it’s gonna be FUCKING SPECTACULAR.

1x02 Guidance

Amethyst is so proud of herself!  It’s awesome!

Steven is clearly a little uncomfortable that he didn’t come up with the idea, isn’t he?  He also has a hard time figuring out that there are ways to use what you’re made for instead of having to run from it.  Of course, that isn’t true for everyone.  Little Larimar did love screams and children more than ice.  The best lesson is that people are different, some are comfortable working in a certain zone whereas others need to struggle past it to feel complete.

Amethyst was sitting in front of the Teens of Rage video game.  I FEEL THIS WILL BE SIGNIFICANT Y’ALL.

I’m just so glad Mr. Smiley finally isn’t understaffed. He could take a day off and go visit Mr. Frowny!

Uncle Andy is back!  Yay!  And he’s getting involved with Beach City in general, I’m really happy to see him putting down some roots.

Smoky Quartz is back!

PINK SMOKY HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THEM GO

Love love love the pink/purple asides for the Steven and Amethyst debate while being Smoky Quartz

TIME SLOWING/SUPER SPEED POWERS??? I WAS NOT PREPARED

The roller coaster exploded IN THE OCEAN I can’t EVEN

So far both Steven and Amethyst are intrigued and impressed by Diamond Mode, and sure, it seems harmless now... 

Steven is worried he’s losing his touch helping people.  That makes me worried that that’s part of a bigger feeling, not just this particular snafu.

Amethyst being so direct is often the one who gets closest to Steven talking about his feelings.  He started to go there, but then Little Larimar showed up again with their terrifying talk about screams....

1x03 Rose Buds

I’m really glad Greg and the Gems aren’t giving Steven shit about not wanting Rose to be looming over him in portrait form.  Now if y’all will also TALK to Steven about how he feels about it... but at least they’re okay with him removing the portrait.

HOOOOOOLY SHIT Y’ALL

I’m so happy J-10 and Y-6 are back!

OMFG they are NOT over Greg and it’s amazing

GAH-REG HOW COULD YOU

I’m glad the Zoomans are in control of their own destiny and able to go where they wish!  

no no no no no no no no no no we all know what’s coming here

Coming face to face with Rose Quartzes = instant KO for one Steven Universe

I almost had a panic attack with him as the Roses clustered around him and the music got tenser and tenser and the camera zoomed in on his face and that was fucking INTENSE PEOPLE

Greg seeing the Roses and just noping the fuck outta there, amazing, everyone in this family is so repressed

Poor Garnet and Pearl hiding in the bathroom

“Yeah, it’s weird”

Poor Rose Quartz-who-most-looks-like-our-Rose-Quartz, it’s clear she is much more emotionally in tune than the other two (due to her belly gem placement?)

STEVEN GOT NEW PAJAMAS

but let him sleep shirtless you cowards!

Also he just looked... so GROWNUP in that scene by the warp pad?  His proportions were just no longer little kidlike?  And he is still cutely beefy but not really little-kid chubby anymore and teen me would have had it BAD for him at this point, I’m just sayin’

Steven is S O O O O   S T R E S S E D   R I G H T   N O W

he’s eating his fucking blanket in an attempt to not talk about his problems I CAN’T

also HAVE WE NOTICED that Steven will eventually end up telling strangers at least some of what’s bothering him, but never the people who actually love and care about him

this episode was so damn tense it is masterful

I’m glad they managed to talk things out a little

but clearly Steven is still, as always, just scratching the surface, this poor kid just needs to GO OFF.

did he go pink in this one from stress for a second?  Or was that the next one? 

1x04 Volleyball

You cannot tell me that that white coat is not a hand-me-down from Dr. Maheswaren, it is CANON IN MY MIND

also damn how many Gems are cracking themselves right and left that this needs to happen regularly?

seriously though Steven, you might just want to get a spittoon and start sending one to every hospital ever, you would undo A LOT of human suffering....

Steven honey I’m so sorry your mom did you so wrong and I’m so sorry you’re so scared of everything to do with her and NONE OF IT IS YOUR FAULT OKAY

but maybe also you need to learn how to face some of this stuff so it doesn’t scare you so badly

Poor Pink Pearl!

Volleyball? Seriously Steven? so insensitive how do you know Pink didn’t throw a volleyball at her head

Poor Pearl and Volleyball feeling so jealous about each other

Volleyball is 8000 years old??  damn how old was Pink?

oooooooh the Reef!  so cool and mysterious!  Look at all those Pearl possibilities!

So Pink damaged her Pearl, and she sent her to the Reef for repair.  They fixed her gem, but when she reformed, the trauma was still so severe that she reformed with the crack.  Oh man :(

Now again I don’t want Corrupted Steven but you could probably wrangle that into support for the theory.

I prefer to think that Steven will do something different than straight-up Corruption to himself, but we could see something like the crack form instead of Corruption.

Willing himself into a monster form only works if he thinks of himself completely as a monster.  Right now he thinks Pink is the monster, and he thinks, finally, that he isn’t Pink.  So either he’d have to really hurt somebody and then view himself as a monster, or, my preference, he would develop something like a scar or pink eyes or stay pink all the time or something until he’s figured out his issues.

I JUST DON’T WANT HIM TO HAVE HORNS, YOU GUYS.

Pearl WAS protecting Volleyball from Steven oh NOOOOO

STEVEN SONIC SCREAM

So we’ve got Diamond Mode Strength, Super Speed, and Sonic Scream, man oh man oh man

this finally makes sense because all the other Diamonds have such well-developed offensive powers

Pink must have been like “no those are dangerous I don’t want them, what else can I do” and developed her healing powers secretly

I always wondered why the Diamonds never recognized Rose Quartz’s healing tears or shield as belonging to Pink

And it must be that she never showed it to them

They maybe only knew about her offensive powers

MEGA PEARL IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND WISE AND HER RIBBON DANCING IS SO MAGNIFICENT AND I LOVE THEM JUST TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER YOU TWO

I can’t believe we got a new fusion so quickly!!!!

Fuck that bitch Shell amirite

look, someone help Steven.

Please help Steven.

HELP. STEVEN.

No new trailer for next week???? COWARDS

omg someone please please scream about all this with me