#we watched some of matilda!! and i sobbed!!!!!!

[yellowhearther0]

hi gang ^_^

[kyracooneyx23]

I loved you Leah Williamson fic! I was wondering if you could do a Lucy Bronze x matildas reader where reader and lucy both player for barca and then they verse each other in the world cup semi final

Don't Be Sorry - Lucy Bronze

Lucy bronze x matildas!reader

summary - the Matildas lose to England in the semi final of the womens world cup and you take the blame.

warnings - death threats and hate comments

90+ minutes of you playing your heart out, the hope of a World Cup final promised if your team could get the result you desperately wanted slipped through your fingers as the dreaded sound of the full-time whistle rang through your mind. You collapse to the floor, face buried in your hands as you feel your tears wet the floor around you. The salty taste burned your already parched throat as you sobbed into your hand.

You were never an emotional person over football, but you had the weight of an entire country resting on your shoulders and you had let them down.

This was the moment you had spent your life working towards, ever since you were 4 years old, when you first watched a game of women's football you had made it your goal to one day be like the women you had seen on your screen. You promised yourself that one day you would represent your country in a World Cup, and now that dream had become reality you had stuffed everything up.

The haunting images of the ball flying past you and into the net still haunts you. You had the chance to stop the ball from going in but stuck your leg out too far and the ball went right past.

Not only did you feel like you had let down your fans, you had let down your teammates as well. It was your job as the team's main center-back to stop the goals and you failed. It was a stupid mistake for Tony to pick you to start, even more stupid that he'd kept you on the full game.

You felt the England player's hands patting you softly on the back, but you didn't bother getting up to congratulate them on their success not feeling up to facing other people.

'Hey, it's going to be ok y/n/n.' You hear the soft, comforting whisper of your captain, whose voice makes you sob even harder. You roll over onto your back so you can see her properly, out of everyone on this pitch you knew you owed her a proper apology.

'I'm so sorry Sam.' Your voice is hoarse and it pains you to see her tear-stained cheeks 'I let the whole team down, I know how much this meant to you. I'm sorry for ruining it, you deserved the win.' You burst into tears again as your captain pulled you into a warm embrace, rubbing your back to try and calm you down.

'This is not your fault.' She says, her voice is stern but you know she's not using the tone in a mean way, 'You played your heart out. I'm not allowing you or anyone to take the blame for the result. Every single person who has pulled on the green and gold jersey this tournament needs to be proud of everything they have done. We've made history this World Cup and that can't be forgotten because of one game. We still have the bronze medal match, we need to dust ourselves off and focus on winning that.' Your breathing slows down, knowing you were overreacting and that Sam was right. You needed to concentrate on the third-place game, there was still a chance to bring home some silverware for your country.

As you rose from the ground, extending congratulations to several of the Lionesses for their victory, you found yourself mid-conversation with Kyra and Mini. Suddenly, you felt the gentle embrace of two arms encircling your waist and a head nestling into the curve of your neck.

You turn around, enveloping your girlfriend in an embrace, the silent language of your intertwined bodies speaks more than any words could in the moment. It was a relief to be in the arms that felt more like home than anywhere else, her presence was all you needed to feel slightly better. Tears trickle down your cheeks again, a release from the flood of emotions that have become too overwhelming.

After a while the silence is broken 'I'm so sorry,' Lucy whispers into your ear 'I know how much this meant to you baby, I wish it didn't have to end this way.' You shake your head at her words, not wanting to ruin the special moment that she had also worked so hard for.

'Luc, don't be sorry. I'm not hearing it. Go and make the most of this moment. You deserve it.' You say pulling out of the hug, not wanting your disappointment to ruin her occasion, you knew better than anyone how much effort Lucy put into getting here in her career.

Lucy looks at you with sincerity in her eyes, you can see how excited she is to have made it to a World Cup final, but she still stays with you instead of celebrating with her team. You know you would've done the same thing if the roles were reversed but you still feel bad for keeping her away. 'Babe, go celebrate, I know you want to.' You tell her, your tone almost demanding.

But she doesn't leave your side and for the next 15 minutes she's constantly peppering your face with kisses and expressing words of admiration and respect, acknowledging the relentless dedication you had put into getting here. You keep trying to push her away but she refuses to leave, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and keeping you tucked as close to her as she possibly could not letting you free anytime soon.

Whilst you walk around the pitch together the fact that you two are rivals dissolves, no one would know that one of you had just lost to the other in a World Cup semi-final if it wasn't for the two different jerseys the two of you were wearing.

You gaze at her, and you know that you look like the biggest simp for her as you send her a loving look. The fan's edits after this match would be crazy.

The two of you were a popular couple that the fans adored even though you two had never properly gone public with your relationship, you just weren't the best at keeping it much of a secret.

Neither of you minded though, you found both the tiktoks quite funny.

After a little more walking around with Lucy, you know you can't let her stay with you any longer. 'You've poured your heart into every match, every training session,' you murmur, your voice barely a whisper against the loud atmosphere. 'You deserve this win more than anyone. This victory is yours, you've earned it through all your determination and hard work. Now please go and celebrate, I know that you'll be greatly missed in the changing rooms. I refuse to keep you to myself anymore, we'll have so much time just the two of us back in Barca. I love you, now enjoy your win' You tell her managing to wriggle free from her tight grip and place a light kiss on her lips, which she tries to deepen before you pull away laughing lightly at her clinginess.

'I love you sunshine.' She tells you blowing you a kiss before running over to her teammates who all bring her in for a large group hug. You smile at her almost forgetting how you'd felt only a short time ago.

Seeing Lucy happy made you happy.

'Hello, Miss Bronze.' Caitlin says standing beside you and you can hear the smirk in her voice. 'Care to join your team anytime soon or are you going to keep staring at your girl like a freak for the rest of the night?' She laughs and you shove her slightly.

'I'm coming, you can piss off now.' You tell the brunette, following her towards the team huddle not too far away from where you were. Steph and Kyra wrap their arms around you as you squeeze into the team circle.

The circle is quieter than your previous huddles, the energy gone from the disappointing loss and everyone exhausted from the game you'd just played.

Tony speaks to everyone, telling us it's not over yet and we can't stop working. The talk is coming to an end when he begins to talk about how we should all be very proud of ourselves 'You girls should all be extremely proud of what you have done,' he waves his hand across the sea of fans in green and gold, still screaming and cheering despite the loss. 'Every single one of you has won the hearts of a nation, you have inspired generations to come, and have changed the future of women's football in Australia. That is an incredible achievement.' A small round of applause echoes throughout the group and Tony finishes up the talk letting everyone head off.

All the girls do one more lap of the field, thanking the fans for their support before quickly getting changed and heading back to the hotel, everyone wanting a good nights rest after the long day.

The next day, the bright sun and Kyra's snoring wakes you up. You chuck a pillow at her, laughing at her annoyed grunts and swearing before getting out of bed, showering, and getting changed. You're quick, not wanting to be late for Lucy as the two of you had planned to go out for coffee this morning. You were excited to see how hungover she would be, you'd be surprised if she even managed to get out of bed this morning.

You weren't meant to be meeting Lucy until 10 and it was only 9:15 when you got out of the shower, so you took the extra time to scroll on your phone.

You had hardly thought about the game last night, knowing it would only affect your upcoming game if you worried about that too much. But as you open your phone, which you hadn't been on since before the game, your stomach twists and you feel like you're going to be sick.

A million notifications pop up on your screen. DM's of people telling you to kill yourself and posts that tagged you showing the two goals you couldn't stop yesterday. You tried not to read them but there were too many and you couldn't stop yourself.

Y/N L/N can go fucking throw herself off the Sydney Harbor Bridge for all I care. What a fucking joke this is, I knew women's football would suck. You're telling me that a 'professional' fullback can't stop the easiest goals. hope she fucking dies, let down a whole country.

Morning Y/N, hope you slept terribly last night. Let down a whole country with your shit performance. I'm sure many people would appreciate it if you took a break from football and found a job you're good at. I don't want to see you step foot on a pitch ever again and if you do I'll make sure you're sorry for it.

L/N just proves that female athletes are all just sluts, lost her team a world cup semi-final and all she did after the game was eye fuck Lucy Bronze, what happened to being a team player?

Hi Y/N, thanks to you my daughter cried herself to sleep last night, what happened to inspiring all the young girls, get a fucking life and get back into the kitchen. women like you don't belong on a football pitch. Never touch a football again thanks.

There were so many, all saying the same kind of things that it all just blurred together. Your thoughts from yesterday returned and all you could think about was about how all these people were right. You let down your country and you were a joke.

You were so caught up in everything that you hardly noticed the time slowly tick past 10:15 and all the notifications from Lucy asking where you were. You just sat on your bed, not quite sure what to do. You'd never felt more like a failure in your life, tears poured down your face they were practically choking you but you didn't mind.

You had let down your country and thousands of people agreed with you.

When you didn't answer Lucy's fifth call she got seriously worried. You always had your phone on you and you never ignored Lucy's calls. She called you one more time and when you didn't answer, she took matters into her own hands.

As soon as the Uber arrived outside your hotel, Lucy sprinted up to your room. Until security stopped her at the front desk, demanding that she prove that she was staying at the hotel before they let her in.

She was begging them for a good five minutes until it got to the point when she was offering money for them to let her in. Fortunately, Alanna spotted Lucy at the desk and after seeing her desperate expression she decided to go over and see what was happening.

'Is everything all right?' She asked both the receptionist and Lucy.

'She's not letting me see y/n/n' Lucy snapped shooting the desk lady a dirty glare.

'I need proof, I can't just let anyone in.' She says matter-of-factly causing Lucy to roll her eyes. Alanna ignores the lady giving Lucy all her attention.

'I thought she was going out to see you?' Alanna asked confused 'That's what Kyra told everyone.'

'She was meant to, but she didn't show up and hasn't been answering my calls, I need to know if she's ok.' Lucy's forehead creased with worry, her girlfriend was never late and always picked up the phone.

'I'm sure she'll be fine, I'll take you to go and check her room and see if she's there.' Alanna tells the brunette before turning around having a quick word with the receptionist who mumbles something under her breath before turning to Lucy and allowing her to go up, apologising for the trouble.

Her words aren't heard by the English footballer who is already speed-walking up the hallway despite having no clue where she is going. Alanna jogs lightly to catch up to her grabbing her wrist to stop her from walking. At first, Lucy tries to pull her wrist away but stops when Alanna drops it.

'Her rooms the other way.' Alanna says softly, causing Lucy to turn around and start power walking in the opposite direction. Alanna laughs lightly at her. 'Slow down, you're just going to get lost. I'll take you to her.'

You're curled up under the blankets in your bed. You'd been lying there for almost an hour. Your phone was on silent so you hadn't seen all the missed calls from Lucy, you felt guilty for not showing up but surely she wouldn't care too much. No one in their right mind would want to be seen with a mess like you, especially not the Lucy Bronze.

You lay in silence for a while longer, nobody disrupting you as the do not disturb sign was up and all the girls were out for the off day. You were almost too caught up in your thoughts to hear the knocking on the door and Alanna's voice calling out your name.

'Y/N, are you in there?' She asked again 'Y/N?' You groaned pulling the blankets up so they were almost covering your head.

'Go away Lani.' You mumble only just loud enough for her to hear. You are shocked when she agrees and you hear her footsteps getting further away.

You roll further into your bed, groaning when you hear another knock on the door. 'Baby, are you alright?' Your girlfriend asks, your stomach flips with guilt.

'I don't want to talk right now Luce.' You tell her even though you know that's not going to stop her from coming to see you.

'I need to know that my girlfriends ok.' She tells you and you hear the doorknob twist, the bright light that fills your room makes your head pound and you bury your face into the pillow.

When Lucy sees you lying in the darkness she immediately rushes to your side and places a hand on your forehead, probably checking to see if you had a temperature.

'What's wrong my love?' She asks sitting next to you on the bed and stroking your back. 'Are you sick? Do you need me to get anything for you?' The brunette asks the worry evident in her tone. You turn around to face her, only seeing her concerned face makes you burst out crying.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, you poured your heart out to your girlfriend, the weight of disappointment and guilt heavy on your shoulders, you couldn't not tell her about what was going on.

The two of you told each other everything.

In the quiet of the hotel room, you confessed her insecurities, voice choking with emotion. 'I'm a failure,' you whispered, hands trembling as you recounted the mistakes that haunted you from the semi-finals and all the awful messages you'd received after the game. With each word, Lucy listened intently, offering comforting words of reassurance. 'You're not a failure,' she whispered back, gently wiping away your tears. 'You're brave for putting yourself out there, for giving it your all. Football doesn't define you; your resilience does. You are the best player I know, you didn't win Player of the Year for nothing. All the girls were talking about how well you played last night, just because the result didn't go your way it doesn't mean you're a failure.' She places light kisses over your face 'The people hating are all just dickheads, I can't imagine them doing even half of what you've achieved. Don't let them get to you.' She tells you, midway through your conversation she had laid down beside you, wrapping you in her arms. You had your head lying on her chest, the beat of her heart helping calm you down.

You don't know how you got a girlfriend like Lucy. But you were undeniably grateful for her no matter what. She'd been there for you through the worst and best parts of your life.

'I'm sorry Lucy.' You whisper to her.

'Don't be sorry.' She tells you placing a light kiss on your forehead 'You've done nothing wrong.'

'You're meant to be enjoying making it to the final, but instead you're stuck looking after me.'

'Yeah, but being stuck with my favorite person in the world is my kind of heaven.' She tells you softly causing a small smile to break out on your face 'I love you y/n/n.'

'Love you more.' You say back to her.

'That's impossible baby.' A small smirk appears on her face 'I'll always love you the most.'

[blingblong55]

Matilda- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Photo creds:@ave661^

Based on a request:

Ghost finding out his s/o has a bad family, who she doesn’t keep in contact with but talks shit about and is like. Pretty open about how fucking awful her past was? if it’s too much I get it but like- I used to love your angst posts :3 they were so yummy! --- F!Reader, 18+, angst, comfort, family issues/trauma, mentions of SA/rape, mentions of eating disorders, toxic!family, mentions of child abuse, so...trigger warning!! ---

A/N: this is me trauma dumping so I'm sorry if it isn't perfect

Simon knew, he knew well that you weren't so open to starting a family with him for reasons he knew best to respect. But, one day, without him even realising he asked the question, you sat down and told him the story your teary eyes held for so long. As he listened to you explain the stories, he noticed how he wasn't speaking to his wife but to the little girl, his wife once was. The one who was left in a cruel world to people who shouldn't have had kids. "So, they...abused you?" He carefully asked and when he noticed you pause, he knew the answer you didn't. "I...I don't think so," your soft words spoke. 

Nothing about the way you were treated seemed especially alarming 'til now

"What I know is that they were mean, evil to me. I was a kid...how was I to know right from wrong so easily?" You held his hand, support you failed to have as a child. Then, you told him the story of a young R/N. "I don't remember the exact age, but I could've been 5 through 8. I was there, he took me to his room, I thought we were going to play and he said we would so would I have known, you know?" Your innocent voice spoke the fear he held. "I don't remember much of that day but in glimpses, if I look too deep, I can see his hands between my thighs, and how he...well...you know," you couldn't explain, it was like a knot in your throat prevented to cause your heart more harm. "And you didn't tell your parents?" His voice is soft. You shake your head, "No, I...as a kid, they never believed what I said," you chuckle out of coping with it all.

"There was one time when my older sister tried to suffocate me, I didn't do anything to deserve it, all I did was watch cartoons and she annoyed me but I knew best and didn't feed into what she wanted from me." You pause and wipe some tears away. Your gaze never fell on his, afraid to break down too easily if you stared at the man who became home to you so long ago. He was that, he was comfort and home and you knew that if you stole one glance, you would be sobbing the stories. Your hand held his tighter, he knew well it was for comfort. "She pressed the pillow tight on my head, I was sick and my stupid lungs couldn't take the fact I had pneumonia, so of course killing me would be easier," you chuckle again. His gaze never left your delicate face and even he had to admit he cried as you told him these stories. 

After a long sigh and pause you continue, "I somehow pushed her off me and ran to my parent's room, knocked loud and when my dad opened the door I swore I finally felt safe until I didn't," You know he was ready to ask why but you just laid your head on his shoulder. Looking off into the distance you continued, "My sister told them I pushed her, told her that I hated her, which is not true because hate is strong and she is my sister," you shake your head. "I cried when they didn't believe me, and had a panic attack in their room. and when I backed into a corner as my mother and father yelled at me...that's when they took my sister to the hallway and my mother stayed with me, she tried to hug me but I didn't need none of that...not from her." His hand rubbed your arm, knowing what you needed from him. You wipe some tears away, your breathing hitches and he wraps both arms around you. "I didn't hurt her Simon, I swear I didn't but no one believes me, no one," you whisper the last part. "I know you didn't, my love," he kisses your head and continues to rub your arm. 

"I believe you, I'll always believe you before anyone else," he reminds you. "I...my mother gave me water and sent me to my room, told me to just sleep it off," you stop and cry. "Oh my love," he whispers and carries you onto his lap. The pouty frown broke his heart more and more. The cosy home he and you made for the years of your life, warming up his belief that slowly, he will replace all those bad years. The fireplace radiates heat on the snowy winter day. "In this world, I'll always believe you, no matter what, okay, my love?" He looks down and you nod. "That's my girl," he says and places a blanket over you both. "Do you want to continue, my love?" He asks, rubbing your back with his warm touch. 

"I do," your voice is small. It was best to open about this and then burn it and let the ashes fly away than to keep it locked in for eyes to see. "I...as I grew up, I knew I had no place in that house. My mother shamed me for my body, and so did everyone in my family." Your head nuzzling onto his chest like a cat finding comfort. "So, I starved myself to be the perfect daughter. I did try to be perfect, I tried to get an I love you, a simple smile or hug." He nods, understanding where you came from. "One time, my mother grabbed my stomach, she told me I was fat and looking back at how I was at that age, I...I was healthy, nothing was ever wrong with me, nothing," you repeat in a whisper. 

After a long time of comfortable silence, you speak again. "As I grew older, they made me feel terrible about all of me, how I dressed, if I did my makeup, my hair, my body, the stretch marks that decorated my body, all of it and even I wasn't allowed to have one bad day, not one." He shook his head and in that instant, he understood why all those years of loving you, you always avoided starting a family conversation. You were afraid to be like them, to persist in a cycle of never-ending trauma. He knew you loved him, he knew how much you yearned to be a mum, to watch him and you become parents and do foolish things for and with your child. 

"I never understood why I was so insecure over my thighs or why I hated when people touched them, but as I grew older and noticed that I was...you know... I..um.." You could never be admitted, never say you were raped as a child, not when you were scared to acknowledge it again. "I know love," he responds so you don't torture your heart anymore. "But...when I realised what happened to me, that's when it all hit me and there was a time in my young life that I knew I would never forget," you kept holding onto his torso. "It hadn't been long after what that...person...did to me when my mum and sisters pinned me to the ground, they knew then that I disliked people touching my thighs so they pinned me to the ground and touched them," you shake your head, trying to forget the moment. "They...th-they touched my body as I cried and begged for them to stop and not once did anyone stop or help me. My father walked by and he...he just laughed and kept walking...how...how can you do that?" You cried. "How can a parent do that? I was a kid, Simon...a child," you broke down. 

"And don't get me started on why I felt like Christmas was just not a happy holiday anymore." Your mind went to a past Christmas, your family yelling, your father accused of his cheating, never denying, just lying and yelling at your mother. You hid in a closet, grabbed headphones and played music loudly. Hours passed and your mother saw fear within her eyes as she cried to you, why can he love me? she asked as she cried, you played strong. Your father drove away, leaving his family scared and cornered in a bathroom, crying as they listened to stories. 

"My dad used to hit me, well, my entire family really," you confessed. His eyes widened, he knew they were bad, but not this bad. "My dad had a belt he used to hit me with, my mother and sisters used to watch. One time, they added more fuel to the fire as they told him more lies to get me into more trouble, part of me thinks they loved to watch me cry and get hit." You so innocently say, "When I was a kid and even as I grew older, my mum and dad would hit me and tell me they did it because they loved me." He shook his head, "Never...never in your life do you dare think that way. If I even dare to lift my hand at you, you leave me, my love. Because no matter how much you or I love the other, abuse doesn't equal love," he cups your face. You nod. 

You learned one thing from Simon as he listened, that he was calm after the bad storm. He had his troubles, yes, but never would he be like them. He and you healed the other after all those years of a bad life you lived. You and him, sunshine to the other even in the darkest of the night. He has become light and a new beginning. Family. And as you admire the soul who can tell which smiles you are faking, you know that the little girl in you is finally safe. She has packed her dolls and sweater, moved to the countryside, grew up and fell in love with a man. A man who is home, a man who became the grown-up little R/N runs to when scared. For he is home, he is light and he is love. He is your man, your safe place and the one you find comfort in. 

I don't believe that time will change your mind In other words I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

"No more," he told you, you looked up at him in confusion. "No more?" you asked and he shook his head. "From this day on, you are not their blood, you are a Riley, you are R/N Riley and never will you be associated with them." He cupped your face. His tone was stern as he tried to make you listen to him. "They are not family, my love. They are strangers you lived with. And me...I am your family, we don't need another shit Christmas, we can...hm...we can have dinner here, or maybe get takeout and watch your favourite movies all day and night. Hey, who knows, maybe that Santa Clause man will come in the night as we sleep and hopefully you've been nice my love because I want him to bring you some good gifts," he chuckles as he cups your delicate face. You laugh a little, "Hey, look who's back, that cute laugh of yours my love," he kisses your lips and pulls you to him, closer than you already were. 

You can start a family who will always show you love You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

In this lifetime, you will learn many things and you will meet many people. Most of which will come and go. Those who stay, you may ask? Well, they become a family, maybe not a biological one but it's not blood that relates two strangers. It's memories, it's understanding, growing, living and loving. Family is him, family is the old lady or that professor you bonded with. Family is people who make you feel safe and at home. For if you are lucky, in this life you will find your Simon Riley. The person who wraps you in a warm blanket and loves you a little more when you hate the reflection in the mirror. And if you get even luckier, you will find that not only will it be Simon Riley who heals your old wounds and covers them in kisses and caresses. You will find yourself, maybe in ten years, getting covered in glitter, mud, and stickers and having the walls of your home drawn on by Simon's child. The love child that was created on a warm Christmas morning. The same one that wakes you up at six in the morning to go and see what the big red man brought them for Christmas. 

And if you are lucky enough, you will find peace. The same one you looked for since age 5, the same one you cried for throughout the years. Maybe it won't come this year, but if you are patient enough, you will find it and when you do, appreciate it because you cried for it many moons ago.

You don't have to be sorry, no

A/N: the tears I shed as I wrote this made a river. Anyway, thank you for letting me dump years of trauma with this one, love you all <3

Tags:

@ghostslillady @liyanahelena @sans-chara @siwwayouu @allaboutirem0 @just3rowsing @mothcelestial @blankk3

[sunsetkerr]

HIGH TIDES | s.kerr

summary: a series of posts of sam being your biggest fan during the bells beach longboard comp.

pairing: surfer!reader x sam kerr

notes: surfer!reader I love youuuuu <3

yourinstagram has posted (3) stories !

yourtwitter posted a tweet

yourinstagram

liked by chloecalmon, samanthakerr20 and 3,387 others yourinstagram hopped out of the water this week to come watch the matildas and my love play in the semis 💚💛 so very proud!!!!!!!

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samanthakerr20 not my best angle ↳ yourinstagram every angle is a good angle ↳ mackenziearnold I will literally throw up

user1 y/n's dad straight brick walling it is so funny to me ↳ yourinstagram he fr has no emotion

user2 sam and billy &lt;3 ↳ user3 y/n's two children fr

user4 rare non-surf post from y/n?? ↳ yourinstagram it's all about the balance

alannablanchard such sweet pics!

user5 im coming to watch you at bells!! cant wait!

yourinstagram

liked by samanthakerr20, alannakennedy and 3,827 others yourinstagram I am so incredibly proud of all you have done 💚💛

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samanthakerr20 I love you

yourtwitter posted a tweet

yourinstagram

liked by samanthakerr20, milliebright and 3,109 others yourinstagram prepping for bells, gonna make a surfer out of her

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samanthakerr20 not a chance ↳ yourinstagram you're a natural though ↳ samanthakerr20 no more saltwater in my lungs pls

user1 I would also date y/n if I saw her thighs, drooling

user2 sam's got her sausage roll ready to sit on the beach and watch y/n surf ↳ yourinstagram pretty much her role now that shes on break

alannakennedy those calfs!! ↳ yourinstagram where?!

samkerrupdates

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samkerrupdates sam's instagram stories from today, pictures of her girlfriend y/n who is prepping for the bells beach longboard competition! she placed 9th last year, hope she can get up this year- good luck y/n!

samanthakerr20

liked by yourinstagram, matildas and 982,837 others samanthakerr20 bells tomorrow for this one. so proud to be able to support you like you do me, I am already so proud ❤️ shred babe

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yourinstagram im not crying

yourinstagram I love you so very much samantha

user1 SAM BEING SAPPY ON MAIN IS MY FAVOURITE THING

user2 I want y/n for myself I cannot lie

hayleyraso good luck tomorrow champion!!

user3 shes so pretty

maryfowlerrr my idol &lt;3 ↳ yourinstagram I love you maz

matildas our biggest supporter in the stands! we will be cheering you on y/n 💚💛

milliebright go shred some waves (or something like that)!!!!! ↳ yourinstagram THANK YOU MILLIE <3 I'LL SHRED A BIG ONE JUST FOR YOU

yourtwitter posted a tweet

samanthakerr20 posted (2) stories

yourinstagram

liked by samanthakerr20, caitlinfoord and 3,847 others yourinstagram my first ever win. I have so many words that i want to say, but am not quite sure how to. these heats at bells were some of my best sets and I am so proud to have won this competition. I have the best support network ever, so thanks to my sammy, my mumma and my sister for coming out to watch me. I am so grateful 🏆

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samanthakerr20 shes queen of the wa-a-a-aves ↳ samanthakerr20 so fkn proud of you 🏆🏆🏆 ↳ user1 as if sam is quoting barbie right now 😭

caitlinfoord you're a champion!! congrats y/n

user2 she used the board sam got her, im SOBBING

user3 I WENT AND WATCHED IT WAS SO SICK!! ↳ user4 did you see sam? ↳ user3 when y/n came out of the water, she waited for the scores cause she was the last one to surf. hers was higher than anyone else in the heat and sam, her mum and sister all ran over to her. sam put y/n up on her shoulders!!! it was so sweet ↳ user5 omg please send pics if you have them!! ↳ user3 sam literally screamed so loud it was so funny

samanthakerr20 still reeling over this, im so proud y/n ↳ yourinstagram I love you forever sammy

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

[Matilda sighs, closing the back door with a slam to announce her presence] Beatrix: Sweetie-pie! It’s been such a long-.. oh, oh! Matilda: Don’t get excited, it’s not mine. Beatrix: [gets excited] Look at you! Oh, why didn’t you visit sooner?! We could’ve-… Matilda: I’m just carrying it for someone else. Beatrix: What’re you talking ab-… Carson: Whose fucking baby is that?! Miles: Holy shit-.. are you pregnant? Matilda: No, Miles.. I swallowed a fucking watermelon. Beatrix: Don’t swear, sweetie. Carson: Whose is it?! Miles: It better not be Sam’s. Beatrix: She says it isn’t hers… Carson: Well, that’s fucking ridiculous, it’s-… Matilda: If you’d all shut the fuck up for a second, maybe I could explain. … Carson: What the hell is wrong with you? You’re not giving up your own baby. Matilda: It’s not mine, it never was. Carson: Look.. I don’t care if it was an accident, you live with the consequences. Matilda: It wasn’t an accident! I told you-… Carson: [snorts] They can adopt. Matilda: Yeah, they’re adopting this. [Beatrix sobs something along the lines of “how could you”, but it’s mostly intelligible] Matilda: They’re getting this baby, whether you like it or not. Carson: Like fuck they are, that’s our grandchild! Matilda: [scoffs] Some grandparents you’d be. Carson: Hey, you watch your fucking tone-… Matilda: You can’t tell me what to do with my tone, my body or my baby. Carson: Get back here-.. Matilda! [Beatrix buries herself into her husband’s chest as Matilda storms off, weeping incessantly] Carson: [yells] When’s it due?! … Miles: Tilly, wait! [Matilda barely slows down, throwing a glare over her shoulder] Miles: You could’ve asked, y’know.. if you needed the money. Matilda: God-.. they’re not paying me, Miles. Miles: Maybe they should be? Matilda: [laughs bitterly] Fuck off.

[deejayrockz]

PAIRING — dad!wilbur + daughter

SUMMARY — wilburs 3 year old gets ill, and it feels like the end of the world

NOTES — angst technically?? lots of fluff, cuddles, etc. girl dad wilbur. OC named Adelia (from my book, except aged down to 3, and his daughter instead of niece !!) mentions of illness, maybe vomiting, and headaches

EXTRA — sorry dadbur has been in my head for days now, i needed to get some drabbles out 🌷🌷

as adelia woke up, next to wilbur (as she got scared in the middle of the night and asked to cuddle with him) her head had started banging.

"daddy," her voice croaked , as she shook the brunette awake. his eyes stirred open, soon warming as he saw the scared look on your smaller girl.

"what's wrong darling?" he whispered, morning voice slightly deeper and croakier, causing him to slightly clear his throat and sit up.

"head hurts," she whines, laying down, head resting on his lap. he felt the burning hot of her forehead, as he ran a hand through her curls. his face had been twisted with worry, as he looked over to the alarm clock, seeing it was 7am. It had just officially become autumn, meaning it was still dark outside.

"let's go get you some juice, maybe it'll help you feel better," he tapped her shoulder softly, as she whined and sat up.

"daddy carry me?" adelia asked, lifting her arms up, as she stood on the edge of the bed. he smiled fondly, picking her up, and almost sobbing when he felt her head tuck into his neck.

"stay awake for me, dede," he muttered against her curls, kissing her head softly, and lightly rocking her on his hip as they walked to the kitchen. the usually talkative girl, was very quiet while being sat on the kitchen counter, watching her beloved dad pour her a small cup of orange juice.

"take a sip of this for me," he whispered lovingly, keeping his voice low as to not harm the girls head more than it already is. she took slow, almost unnoticeable sips, before placing it back on the counter, glass still almost full.

"do you want to have a little bit more for me?" will questioned, walking up to her and stroking her knee softly.

"no thank you daddy," she whispered, eyes closing softly, as her skin had grown pale, showing off the rosy cheeks that had bloomed earlier that morning.

"okay, we'll bring it with us back to bed," he kissed her cheek, picking her up, and resting her on his hip again.

"we watch movie?" adelia asked, laying her head on his shoulder, holding the sippy cup of juice in her hand.

"we can watch a movie, yeah," he smiled, walking back to his room, and placing her softly on his bed, "what movie do you want to watch?"

"hmm," she thought for a minute, making herself comfortable and watching him turn on the tv, "matilda,"

he wordlessly put on the matilda film, before laying next to her, and placing the tv remote on the bedside table.

"cuddle?" adelia said, her voice still slightly scratchy sounding, as she looked up at will, who was slightly sat against the headboard.

"of course, darling," he smiled softly, feeling the urge to cry as she sat herself on his lap, and cuddled into his chest. his heart had warmed, feeling his special girl cuddled up into his pyjama jumper, wrapping his arms around her.

he was always surprised when she had still wanted to cuddle, as most parents say it's just a stage they grow out of at around a year old, however adelia was always ready for cuddles, and so was he.

"daddy, will i feel better soon?" she asked, lifting her head up slightly, now resting on his shoulder/neck bone.

"yes darling, we'll help you get better, don't worry," he kissed her forehead, feeling it now slightly cooled down. the vitamin C had seemed to work, despite the small amount she had drank.

they two had shared small goodnights and i love yous, as they drifted back to sleep, adelia tucked under wills arm.

he has always believed true love was found in romance films on the tv, he never expected it to be found in the little 3 year old angel wrapped in his arms. he had never truly felt at home, until he got a text telling him he was a father of a baby girl. at first, he panicked, but the minute he saw her dirty blonde curls, he knew she would be the most important thing in his life.

despite her being ill, he tugged her almost impossibly closer, knowing the sore throat he'd get once he woke up would be completely worth it, as long as he got to hold her.

[madeintheniamh]

can we please have a dadrry one shot of tilly maybe getting rejected by someone she likes at school and harry comforts her? 💞

sorry this has taken me so long!

late night (boy) talking

stmf one shot #12

a/n: late night talking, but it's actually late and harry is having a detailed convo about life with his teenage daughter.

warnings: fluff. boy talk.

song: cardigan- taylor swift

Tilly had always embraced routine. Whether it was her skincare routine, her warm up routine for gymnastics, her morning routine or her night routine- she couldn’t go without them, and had been this way since she was as little as you both could remember, Lottie surprising you by being the complete opposite and doing everything on impulse in the same way that Harry did. He had just finished up a long song-writing session and was making his way out of the studio you had set up for him downstairs when he noticed the light shining through the small crack between Tilly’s bedroom door and the doorframe, along with the soft hum of a sad song coming from her laptop speakers, and he knew something was off. He always knew when something was off with his girls, it was just his thing, as if he was constantly in tune with their emotions and had some telepathic link to them. He peered down at his watch, his reading glasses slipping slightly further down his nose as he did. Tilly was never awake past midnight, yet the dainty hands told him clearly that it was close to one in the morning. He scratched at the patch of stubble beginning to grow on his chin, because he never shaved when he was hyper-fixated on writing new music. Or cut his hair for that matter, which was touching his chin again. His cheek was now rested against the doorframe, and he knocked softly, before letting himself in.

Her room was a mess- completely different from the neat and ordered state she religiously kept it in. Although it was barely illuminated by the soft glow of her bedside lamp, he could see clothes scattered all over her pink window seat, pillows strewn all over the floor, six different half empty bottles of water on her bedside table, tissues scattered across her bed and finally her, wrapped under the covers dressed in one of his old hoodies.

“Go away, Lottie,” She hissed, her words muffled slightly as her head was buried into her pillow.

Harry snickered a bit at that, putting on a high-pitched voice in an attempt to mimic his youngest daughter. “Fine, I’ll go, god you’re so mean,”

She lifted her head up slightly as soon as she realised that it was him, revealing a huge black mascara stain on her pillowcase as she did. As soon as she saw him smile hopelessly at her, she burst into tears yet again, coughing slightly from the force of her sobs.

“Hey baby,” He whispered, holding her shaking frame in his arms. “What’s got you all upset, hmm? You’re going to make me cry,”

“Daddy, I can’t, I just, I-”

“You take your time, sweet angel,” He soothed, rubbing his hand in circles across her back. “I’m here to listen when you’re ready,”

“He said no,” She sobbed. “He said no, in front of everyone,”

“You’re joking,” Harry cackled. “How could anyone turn you down?”

“Well, obviously,” She began to catch her breath again. “I’m not pretty enough for him. He probably thinks I’m ugly, because I am,”

“Whoa, hey,” Harry warned, taking her chin in the palm of his hand and forcing her to look at his eyes. “Don’t you dare say that about yourself, Matilda Gemma, because you know it isn’t true,”

She scorned slightly at hearing her full name. “But it is true,”

His eyebrows raised further up his forehead, a line forming in the middle of them like it always did when he was irritated.

“I think we need to look at getting you another eye test,” He sighed. “You obviously can’t see properly, if that’s what you believe,”

“I can see, Daddy,” she snapped. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, like you always do,”

“You know that’s not true,” He replied, sweeping a strand of blonde hair from out of her eyes. “Do I ever lie to you, baby?”

“Sometimes,” she began to smile slightly. “Last time we went to the dentist, you said it would be fine, and then they said I needed a filling, remember,”

He almost snorted at that, but put his hand over his mouth to avoid you getting out of bed to moan at him about keeping you up so late. He held his hands up in defeat.

“You got me, Tilly Gem,” he giggled. “But I mean about serious life things.”

“That was serious!” She moaned, her lips pouted slightly.

He had stopped himself from laughing now, but his dimples were still showing.

“I know, I know,” he replied. “But teenage boys are stupid. I mean, I know, I was one, many years ago,”

“When you had that stupid haircut,” She mocked.

“Yeah, maybe- actually, that’s quite rude, you know,” he scolded, but his lips were still set in a smile. “It wasn’t my best haircut, but I had more hair than I do now, so that’s something,”

That made her laugh, and as she did, he reached down to swipe the leftover smeared mascara from under her eyes.

“Why do you need a boy to tell you you’re pretty, hmm? What makes this ‘rupert’ or whatever his name is, so special? I bet he’s punching,” He laughed.

“But Daddy, he plays rugby,”

“Ooooh, he plays rugby,” he cackled. “But is he going to write you songs, like your Daddy does? Can he even sing like me?”

She stared into space for a second, trying to justify all her reasons for being upset, but they were beginning to fall away.

“That’s not fair, Daddy,” she sighed. “No one sings like you,”

“That’s very kind, Tilly Gem,” he smiled. “But you shouldn’t like a boy because he can sing, or because he can play rugby, or because he drives a Mercedes, or any of those things. You should like him because he’s nice to you, and he cares about you, and he treats you like you’re the most important thing in his life. That’s what you deserve,”

Her eyes lit up slightly, although they were still glossy. “Do you think?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And if he embarrasses you in front of people, or he makes you upset, or he makes you feel like you should change things about yourself, then he’s obviously not the right one, is he?”

“Maybe you’re right,” She leaned into his arms, feeling his stubble scratch against her cheek.

“The right guy will come, baby,” he smiled. “Don’t waste your time on guys who make you feel like shit, you’re too young for all that rubbish,”

He tucked the covers in over her, making sure her shoulders were fully covered, before reaching over to switch off her lamp.

“And you should really wear your glasses more,” He giggled, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead, before approaching the door. “Because you and Lottie are the most beautiful girls in the world, and the best thing that has ever happened to me,”

----

HARRY LOVES HIS GIRLS. HE LOVES THEM. NO MAN WILL MATCH HARRY. i said what i said

i am still taking requests for my dadrry series! if you have anything, literally anything, if you think it's weird, too vague- send it over and i will try my best. i always love writing using your prompts!

if you liked this one shot, the link to the slipping through my fingers series masterlist is here...

i am going to bed now bc it's 1.30am. goodnight x

[awesomefringey]

Hi. I always felt so safe on your blog and you are always respectful and kind, so I want to share this with you.

I was in Cologne yesterday, with a friend, because we went to see P!nk there. We walked through the city before the concert and it was so full and positively chaotic because there is the CSD at the weekend. After some time my friend told me "oh there are so many pretty boys here." And I was like - really? And then I realised - I only had eyes for the girls. And it shocked me. I'm in my 30s and thought my whole life I was straight. But at the same time I always wondered why I never wanted to be in a relationsship with a boy and dating / snogging them just didn't feel right. And why I always observed beautiful girls and watching them, wishing they would talk to me.

I always wondered what was wrong with me.

And then I stood there yesterday, between all those queer people, and realised that I am one of them. And I never felt more free and confused at the same time in my life.

Sitting here writing this I'm sobbing my eyes out while listening to Matilda, because I know my family would never understand this.

Sorry for rambling, but I needed to talk to someone.

Ohhhhh nonnie, this is amazing! Thank you so much for sharing your experience and realization with me. This must be so exciting yet so scary.

I always walk that thin line of finding girls hot and wanting to be like them or finding them hot and realizing I actually would like to snog them. It can get blurry here and there. But I’m married so I don’t have to elaborate on that much… hahaha

I hope you give yourself some grace and time to figure out and explore what you need and want. I hope you can open up to a friend as well, so you’re not alone in this. Sending you alllll the love 💖

[maybeimamuppet]

2, 5, 9, 11, 16 for the fic asks?

hello darling friend tysm for the ask!!

2, will you participate in any fandom exchanges or fic challenges, etc?

if i’m asked to absolutely!! i think they seem so fun but being in smaller fandoms i think they’re a lot harder to figure out. i’ve actually considered forming a few of my own for like halloween or the holidays and stuff but i’m kind of the only cadnis writer still somewhat consistently active and everyone else who writes for mean girls is into very different things (which is great we love to see it but it makes group stuff hard lol) and matilda i haven’t checked up on in so long i have no idea what’s going on in that little corner anymore whoops

5, which wip is first on your list to complete this year? will you post a snippet?

we are continuing my beloved series of ‘someone has to write all the cliche fics for this ship and by golly it might as well be me”! from the looks of things the first one to be finished will be a college au (professor/student) that i’m honestly really proud of. i’ve been hammering away at it for a while lol. but we also have a few more like that and obviously plenty more that aren’t that i’m not gonna spoil just yet but i’m very excited for them :)))

“As long as I’m your professor, this can’t happen, no matter how badly I want it to,” Cady says with a sniffle. She gently presses a kiss to the corner of Janis’ lips before she pulls away and takes a couple steps back. “I’m so sorry, Janis.”

Janis watches her go for a minute, barely feeling the frigid rain slamming against her face. Cady hunches in on herself and clicks off. “What about when you’re not my professor anymore?!”

Cady freezes and turns to look at her. “What?”

“Once I graduate,” Janis begs. “Can we be together then?”

“…Technically, yes, we could,” Cady says. “But-”

“Wait for me,” Janis says. “Please.”

Cady bites her lip, but she nods after a second. “Okay.”

“You will?” Janis asks, finally feeling hopeful enough to smile for the first time in what feels like years.

“I’ll wait,” Cady agrees. “If you’re willing to do the same. Come to me once you graduate, and… we’ll see what happens. Okay?”

“Okay,” Janis says, smiling around a sob. Cady does the same before she continues walking away.

unproofread snippet brought to you by maybeimamuppet :)

9, short term goals… what do you hope to complete this week or in january?

i’m really hoping to have that and the next chapter of pt done by the end of the month!! my third writing birthday is at the beginning of march and i’m really hoping to have a batch of fics ready to crank out by then :)) matilda is kind of wonky for the time being bc i have very few wips and i need time to sort through which requests i can actually do/want to do so they might be a while but focusing on my meanies for a while will be a nice change i think!

11, would you like to try any new fanfic genres or tropes this year?

i don’t think i do!! at least not in fics lol i’m good with my romance and family fluff sorta genres i’m in but i am trying to write a few publishable like real actual books that are a little different so we’ll see how that goes!

16, do you have one fanfic that you wrote a ton for, ages ago, but never posted? will this be the year come hell or high water that it WILL get finished and posted?

UHHHH honestly most of my wips are kinda like that lol. i hyper focus on one and then get bored with it and move on to a new one and herein lies the cycle of Big Issues. so i have a lot of like half-done oneshots (including requests i literally got in 2021 and am sobbing trying to get done i feel so bad). i do have an entire folder of ‘unpublishable fics’ that will never see the light of day. they’re mostly just writing exercises but some of them are just really embarrassing so most of them stay there lol. and i have a multi-chapter The Good Place au i started years ago and couldn’t figure out other than the title but i only wrote a couple scenes for it but that probably also won’t ever see the light of day. ce la vie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[natequarter]

fruity / delight: Mary and Annie

“Call ‘im a bastard,” Annie suggested. “Lord knows he deserves it.”

“But,” Mary winced, “but he is a man of the cloth … I can’t say it, Annie.”

Annie put an encouraging hand on her shoulder. “He’s an arsehole, dost thou not think?”

“Well, yes…” She had a bad habit of trailing off when people tried to make her do things she couldn’t. Or, sometimes, just because she was tired and the smell of smoke was particularly bad, and Robin was too loud, and her hair kept flying in her face, and it was all that little bit too much. “Could we not just talk?”

For a moment, Annie looked like she was about to argue. (She often looked like this.) Then she said, “Yeah—probably a better idea.”

They snuck away like someone was watching, like there was a jury waiting to condemn them for some unthinkable crime. Ridiculous, of course; that had happened already, and no one had thought to wait for a jury before dragging her to her to her death.

Annie pulled her into the alcove in the side of the manor. “Nice day, huh?”

Mary said, “I s’pose.”

“Thou soundest depressed,” Annie said. Her voice softened. “Is that me? Or just coincidence?”

“According to Humphrey,” she said, then stopped.

“What’s Humphrey saying now? He might be nice, but he hasn’t got the most reliable knowledge. Just sayin’.”

“According to Humphrey … ‘tis a hundred years to the days since—since I passed.”

“Is it really? Christ, how time flies.” Annie’s tone was flippant, but as she said it, she quietly put an arm around Mary. Only tentatively, though; sometimes, the rough pull of hands on her shoulders did more harm than good. “That alright?”

She nodded. “I still remember it as if—”

“As if?” Annie said encouragingly.

“As if it had just happened,” she mumbled.

“Well,” said Annie, “that’s—understandable.”

Usually, on the day Humphrey claimed was her death day (as if anyone had bothered to actually note the date), she ran off to the woods, or hid in the upstairs closet, or otherwise did her best to disappear off the face of the Earth; the one person she dared let near her was Robin, more because he knew how to find her than anything else.

Annie, to her knowledge (which admittedly was only slightly broader than Humphrey’s), had only seen her on this day a handful of times, and rarely, if ever, had they talked of the pyre in the room.

“They’re idiots,” Annie declared, when Mary did not speak. “All o’ the bastards who condemned thee.”

“Annie, it was—”

“Thou didst not deserve thy fate,” she continued, “nor wouldst thou ever. The fools who did this”—she gestured, vaguely, at Mary—“should have rued the day they sentenced thee.”

“I thank thee,” she managed to get out; and that was it. She had been so sure all her misery had been put to death alongside her, but the words she meant to say to Annie came out as choked sobs, stifled tears; she meant to speak, truly, but found it an impossible task. Annie, she knew, favoured explicit communication, and not conversations which crumbled under their own weight; but then Mary had never been very good at explaining herself, as her executioners well knew.

“No,” said Annie, “don’t … I mean, that is—come here.” She pulled her into a hug, quite awkwardly; so awkwardly, in fact, that her tears dissolved into shaky laughs as Annie fumbled to embrace her. “Oi, don’t laugh at me! Thou wilt ruin my reputation.”

Mary blinked the tears out of her eyes, so that she might see, to find Annie grinning down at her with a clumsy kindness.

“Is that better?” Annie said. “I don’t like to see thee upset.”

That was a kinder thing than any she’d heard from her neighbours in life, which she decided not to mention. “Thou hast not a reputation to wreck,” said Mary, and, despite her mood, burst into stuttered laughter again, delight dug out of her cinereous heart.

“Harsh,” Annie said, but she accepted the insult with more grace than what she would have given Matilda for the same comment, which felt like a kind of silent compliment. “At least thou art alright,” she continued.

“Yes,” Mary wiped her eyes, “a little better now. I just … needs to be away from the others.”

“Tell me about it,” Annie said.

“Well … I am.”

“Ha,” she said, “there’s my Mary. It’s nice to have thee back with us.”

If she could have inscribed anything in stone, the former comment would have been memorialised in an instant.

(link)

[caspianxth]

Helloooo its your secret santa! 🤶 ive forgotten what we talked abt yesterday but i did read your response so no worries there. So, in lieu of the convo some people had in the server earlier, whats your favorite children's movie? Animed and not animated if you so please.

hello hello!!

I'd have to say my fave live action kids movies are def the narnia films, another childhood series that I won't mention or watch or engage with anymore bc of the author's horrific transphobia on top of the pre-existing racism, antisemitism, etc. (u can probs guess it), george of the jungle, the princess bride, rodger and hammerstein's cinderella, and matilda!!! there was also this disney movie called go figure that I loved and watched a lot. I also think the parent trap is funny bc I do have a twin (fraternal not identical) but we do not have that level of synchronicity. also a couple movies I watched as a kid that aren't kids movies but I still like are 10 things i hate about you, bedazzled, and monty python and the holy grail!!!

for animated I liked p much all of the pixar and disney movies that came out pre-my birth thru the 00s except bambi. I hate bambi and I will explain: so my twin brother would throw Tantrums if I wanted to watch something other than bambi after school. I mean sobbing, kicking, punching, screaming the Whole Way through anything else we tried to watch tantrums if he didn't get to watch bambi. now I hate it bc I had to watch it over and over even tho I never wanted to. but I didn't want to deal with my twin if he didn't get to watch bambi, so I let him play bambi over and over and over and over and over. he does feel bad about this now btw and has apologized for making me hate bambi. u didn't ask what movie I hated ik, but as long as it's not bambi u have a strong chance of picking one that I will like lmaooo

[spencersmagic]

can we talk about how most all artists have developed their creative voice through the pandemic and the other horrible, life-changing things we've gone through? it's bittersweet, but so beautiful at the same time, to see my favs expressing themselves in such unique ways.

billie went from being purple to golden, harry is writing such sweet, coffee-shop-y, 90s soft disco/indie music, rosalia wrote a freaking collage instead of an album, mitski is getting louder in some strange way...

here's my opinion of harry's house:

music for a sushi restaurant: felt very 90s video game energy. i woke up and the first thing i did was listen to this, and i want to set it as my alarm. i would wake up with a smile on my face, ready to complete my little tasks of the day.

late night talking: i really just wanted to get up and dance. the harmonies are amazing. just. wow.

grapejuice: right off the bat, i'm horny. it's a hot song. H de horny, de harry, de "here i am: comeme todo el grapejuice". i want to have sex to it. the counting? my insides are twirly. but it's also weirdly romantic? like, we know, harry. you've had sex and it feels great.

as it was: disco crying. it feels like sobbing in the floor of a narrow bathroom at a party hosted by someone who hasn't acknowledged you all night. you can try to fool us with the jumping, fun music video but we know the truth. it's sad.

daylight: the lyrics. he's on the roof and they are on an airplane???? he's trying to reach them. i'm crying. also at 1:05 when the drums come in???? it feels so helpless. he's trying so hard. + the ending? devastating.

little freak: you're walking out of the bathroom at a party after crying. tear-streaked, lights everywhere but on you. you're insignificant. little do you know, someone is watching you as you look down to your feet. they're forcing their twitching hands to stay still, and if they don't concentrate hard enough, their body might just intuitively reach to you.

matilda: sobbing in big sister. literally, crying in the library in front of the books i study for everybody but myself. "you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own". also that 7th on the outro?? goosebumps. i am a new person after listening to matilda.

cinema: okay i was definitely spiraling and this is the best. i can't wait to get the vinyl and listen to this at 2am. "do you think i'm cool too, or am i too into you?". that's it. the adlibs on the last 45 seconds. i'm alone this evening at home, and i'm definitely going to scream the adlibs. pray for the neighbours.

daydreaming: okay harry we get it. you're good at sex. you're a romantic guy.

keep driving: summer. listening to this song after failing my drivers test. driving in a convertible with a bandana on your hair, eyes closed and arms in the sky, laughing with your whole chest. did he just say side-boob? as he should.

satellite: bo burnham spiraling vibes. it's so bittersweet. you know when you're hanging out with a friend and someone they know comes up and starts talking to them? and you're standing on the side, waiting to be interesting enough to resume whatever you were doing? like a satellite.

boyfriends: i genuinely don't give a shit about harry's sexuality, but i hope he finds peace. now, onto the commentary. men are trash. it's vulnerability, it's trying over and over again. what's worse: it's asking him to try. it's him dismissing you. it's confusion. this one broke me.

love of my life: again - the harmonies??? hyperventilating rn, and im not even joking. a love letter. AAAAAH THE PIANO THINGY. I'M SHAKING. THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL.

[ultimate-kaisa-simp]

Ok so this took a while to write, but hopefully it doesn’t suck!

This is a re-write of season 2 episode 3 with @kaminos-hangout-corner’s The Mum Swap AU.

It skips going through the actual labyrinth, but i does do the before and after.

Very angsty because is there another way to write?

Might do a follow up if people ask but it probably won’t be as long as this one (2044 words!!)

Without further ado, hope you enjoy!

Hilda and Frida hid behind a cart full of books as they watched the librarian approach three women sitting at a very tall table. When none of the three made any move to speak, the librarian took a step forward, earnest expression on her face.

“Honored Council, does you calling me here today mean you’ve reconsidered my request?”

Her tone was so pleading, so vulnerable, that the three women - the council, Hilda guessed - shared matching looks of pity before they schooled their faces into stern expressions.

“Unfortunately not Johanna. We have called you here for a separate matter entirely. 29 years, 364 days and 22 hours ago, The Skeleton Whisperer was checked out. As the Keeper- sorry, the librarian, after 30 years the responsibility for the missing book passes to you.”

A book floated off the cart and towards the council as the woman on the left waved her wand shaped like a rose. Or maybe it was a rose, Hilda couldn’t tell from where she was hiding. She was so entranced by the show of magic Frida had to pull her down so they wouldn’t be seen.

“But I wasn’t even the librarian then! That was-”

Johanna’s protests died off and the council members were all looking sympathetic again? Hilda didn’t know what was going on, but she intended to find out. If it weren’t for Frida’s hand on her arm keeping her down, she would have already jumped out.

“We understand, and as a non-witch, we can’t throw you into the Void of No Return, but we would have to fire you. Do you have the card with you?”

Johanna nodded and reached into her pocket, only to find it was empty.

“I swore I had it in here, maybe the other one?”

Her checking got more frantic until Frida jumped out from behind the cart waving the card, dragging Hilda out with her.

“It says Pilqfvist! M. Pilqvist!”

Johanna turned towards them as the council reeled back in shock.

“Hilda? Frida? What are you two doing here?”

As Hilda took a deep breath to tell her the whole long story, the middle council witch cut her off.

“It doesn’t matter what they’re doing here! Non-witches! In the Witches Tower! It’s unheard of!”

Johanna crossed her arms and turned back to the council with a huff.

“I’m a non-witch, and you called me here. And I come here with some regularity. So I wouldn’t say it’s ‘unheard of’.”

The middle witch was about to say something else when the witch on the left cut her off.

“Well you were always a special case Johanna,” the witch smiled. “But the point remains that the clock is ticking and these two followed you here. Luckily for you, we know where you can find Matilda Pilqvist.”

Johanna smiled back up at the witch as Hilda and Frida went to stand beside her, handing her the card as they did so.

“Thank you Abigail,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Is it nearby? I won’t be able to open any portals to get there if it’s not.”

All three witches winced before Abigail waved her wand. Nothing happened for a few seconds before a different wand came zooming into the room. Abigail floated down onto the floor as she took hold of it, drawing a rectangle in the air while chanting. Once the shape was complete, she stepped back as a door materialised and placed the wand in, turning it like a doorknob. Turning, she faced Johanna with a somber expression.

“Through this door is the labyrinth of Arch-Sorceress Matilda Pilqvist. She’s… not one for visitors. I wish you the best of luck. You… you’ll need it.”

Hilda, Frida and Johanna all looked at each other and nodded. In sync, they all stepped through the door.

~~<3~~

“Ok, I think this should be the last room,” Johanna remarked, glancing up from the map that Frida had managed to find. They stepped through to find the room full of snow and ice.

“I bet we’re going to have to fight a snow or ice monster in here!” Hilda exclaimed excitedly. As soon as the words left her mouth, a burst of steam shot up from the ground. A monster made of lava and molten rock stepped out of the steam and roared, spraying lava everywhere.

“RUN FOR THE DOOR!”

It didn’t matter who shouted, they all jumped into action. Hilda and Frida ran around each side and Johanna slid underneath the monster. Once they were all on the other side, they slammed the door shut and took a moment to catch their breaths.

Straightening, they took in their surroundings. They were in a pitch black room, no end to the expanse, only one other door. Cautiously Hilda placed a hand on the handle and turned it. Behind the door was not a castle, like Frida was picturing, or a spooky dungeon like Hilda was, but instead a place very familiar to Johanna. As the younger two entered, there was a voice coming from an armchair in the corner.

“Oh look Cornelius! We have visitors!”

As an old lady rose out of the chair and floated over to the girls, Johanna, still outside the doorway, spoke, voice so quiet it was barely a whisper.

“Tildy?”

Tildy’s head snapped towards Johanna, who had tears pooling her eyes. She flew over at speeds far faster than one would assume she would be capable of, and wrapped Johanna in a hug. Johanna sobbed into her shoulder as she hugged back. Frida and Hilda turned away, feeling that this was a private moment not meant for them to witness.

“She’s gone Tildy, I’ve waited 10 years and she never came back! I miss her so much it hurts and, and-”

Johanna cut herself off with a fresh round of tears. Tildy just patted her back sadly, leading her over to the couch.

“I know dearie, I know. I miss her too. I tried to find her but she’s blocked her magic. Short of going door to door, there’s not much we can do aside from hope she comes back.”

As Johanna sat on the couch, head in her hands, Tildy turned towards Hilda and Frida.

“Now what can I do for you two young ladies?”

Frida didn’t answer so Hilda stepped in and took the lead.

“We’re looking for a book that you checked out… uhh… 29 years, 364 days, 23 hours and 45 minutes ago. The Skeleton Whisperer?”

Tildy huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Did those three fussbudgets send you here to make me return a book? I have more important things to deal with right now, you tell them I’ll return it when I’m good and ready.”

Hilda wasn’t sure if it was magic, or just Tildy’s grandmotherly nature, but she found herself relaxing a bit. It’s not like anything life threatening was at stake, right?

“But if we don’t get this book returned in time, Johanna will lose her job!”

The sense of urgency returned to Hilda at Frida’s words, and she started looking around for where the book might be.

“Oh dear, that is a problem! Well it can’t have gone far, we can look for it together. I’ll go get my crossbow!”

Hilda watched as Cornelius munched on a ball of yarn that was lying on the ground and got an idea.

“Tildy?” She started. “Is there any way your familiar might have the book?”

Tildy and Frida both turned to look at Cornelius as Tildy floated over.

“Cornelius? What’s that in your mouth?”

Tildy grabbed Cornelius as he tried to slowly shuffle away, making him spit out the wide variety of stuff he had swallowed, including the book which Frida quickly found. Tildy turned to Johanna and took her hand.

“Are you ready to go dear? There’s no rush.”

Frida covered Hilda’s mouth before she could point out that yes, there was a rush, but it didn’t matter as Johanna stood up, wiped her eyes, and then nodded. They all linked hands and teleported to the Council Room.

The card tower that the council was building fell abruptly as the group teleported in, though they all rushed to get back into dignified positions.

“We got the book!” Hilda yelled, waving it around for the council to see. Hilda and Frida were standing in front, Tildy beside them and Johanna behind them.

“I’m sorry, but a deadline is a deadline. You missed your chance by about 15 minutes.”

Hilda was confused and angry. They totally had more time than that!

“I’m sorry dears. Time gets a bit… messy when you translocate like that,” Tildy apologised.

“NO!” Johanna cried. “I have to stay here! What if she comes back! I need to make sure she’s ok!”

The council shifted in place as Tildy placed a comforting hand on Johanna’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry but rules are rules. Johanna, Librarian of Trollberg City Library and The Witches Tower, Famil-”

“Oh what utter nonsense!” Tildy interrupted. “Aren’t you the slighted bit impressed that three people without magic made it through my maze, when so many seasoned witches have failed? And can’t you see one of them is a natural witch?” She added, when the council shifted some more.

“Well that is true,” the middle witch conceded.

Hilda puffed out her chest a bit in pride and Frida gave an encouraging smile.

“So what do you say… Frida?”

Frida looked just as surprised as Hilda felt.

“Me?” She questioned. Tildy just nodded.

“Of course dear! And Hilda, you’ve got the spirit to be an invaluable familiar to Frida.”

As Frida and Hilda were celebrating their new witch-and-familiar status, Johanna stiffened behind them. With a wave of her finger, Tildy summoned her teapot, some cups and a few board games, leaving Hilda and Frida to catch them.

“Now, time for tea and board games back at my place! It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone new to play with, Cornelius is a horrible cheat!”

Tildy grabbed Johanna’s hands and started to pull her along when Johanna stopped her.

“Girls, would you mind waiting outside for a bit? There are a few more things that The Council, Tildy and I need to discuss.”

After sharing a look, Frida and Hilda nodded and left, finding the perfect position to eavesdrop.

~~<3~~

“Dear I understand you might be upset but-”

“OF COURSE I’M UPSET!” Johanna interrupted. “TILDY WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? THERE IS NO WAY THIS WILL END WELL!”

Johanna had tears streaming down her face as years of bottled up emotion came out. Abigail opened her mouth to speak but Johanna cut her off as well.

“I THOUGHT THE COUNCIL SAID I WAS THE TRIAL! WELL GUESS WHAT? THE TRIAL FAILED! THEY’RE JUST CHILDREN, WE SHOULDN’T DO THIS TO THEM!”

Johanna finally ran out of steam and sunk to the floor, overwhelmed by memories and emotion.

“We were just children,” she whispered through tears.

Tildy patted her on the back comfortingly.

“That’s the thing about children dear, they can learn from the mistakes of the past and become better for it. And you’ll be there to help them along the way, you can help them avoid those mistakes. Now, how about we go back to my place? I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough, don’t you?”

Johanna nodded and stood up on shaky legs. Wiping her eyes, she gave Tildy a hug and they left the room together. Once they met up with Hilda and Frida, Tildy teleported them all back to set up some games.

BONUS:

“Johanna?” Hilda started. “What’s the name of the person that you’re trying to find? We’ve met a lot of people on our adventures, maybe we’ve run into her!”

Johanna stiffened a bit before relaxing and let out a low chuckle.

“Well I don’t doubt that,” she laughed. “Here, I’ll draw you a picture as well.”

Hilda nodded and took her turn in Dragon Panic. By the time it got to Johanna’s turn, she was finished.

“This is Kaisa,” she said, sliding the paper over to Hilda. Hilda just stared at it in shock, picking it up and looking at it closer.

“This-” she said, the words getting stuck in her mouth. “This is my mum.”

[vanchlo]

Birdy (Green Eyes / 2)

Read the first part, Green Eyes, here! :-) 

Blurb Synopsis: After finally meeting the mysterious Mr. Styles you subbed for, you take a job at the same school, right across the hall from him. You’re unsure how much longer you can hide your feelings for him as you’ve grown to become best friends. 

Genre: Teacher Harry, fluff, romance, angst, and a little sad.

Warnings: None

Word Count: Nearly 8k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Blackbird by The Beatles (click to listen)

*

Your desk was covered in Twix wrappers, multicolored gel pens, and empty cans of Coke. The new school year hadn’t even begun, and your desk already looked like a tornado had come by. Not to mention the fact that school started in almost three weeks and you hardly had any classroom books. You kept telling yourself it’s a high school English classroom, not a third-grade classroom. There’s a library down the hall for a reason, but the classroom barren of books drove you nuts. Your desk wasn’t shy to books though, as favorites of Harry had found a home on the dark wood. 

Leaves of Grass. 

Catcher in the Rye. 

The Sun Also Rises. 

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. 

Walking into your classroom on this sunny morning, the thought makes the smile on your face grow wider. Finally, you can say that you have your own classroom. The sight of the week-old books leaves the smile there on your lips. A laugh dances off of them at the sight of the Roald Dahl book, bringing you back to the memory when you found it there one morning. 

You had asked Harry why he included it in the occasional stack of books he loaned to you. He said it’s required reading, because so few people know the movies are based on a book. You’re just wondering when he’s going to slip The Outsiders or Stuart Little under your door next. 

The rows of ancient cream desks stare back at you, and you wonder just how you’re going to command a classroom in a few days. Well, seven of them to be exact. Then you try to remind yourself, for the twentieth time, that you’ve done this before. It won’t be so hard, then. Perhaps you’ll even have some past students, and that should help. Right? 

You’ve barely gotten a few steps into your classroom, because of the thoughts muddling your mind. Sighing, you slip off your bag to leave on your chair. One that some days you don’t even sit in, because your legs are walking miles around your classroom, setting up. Thumbtacks are scattered across the expanse of your desk, reminding you of the unfinished walls. Before you can think about the posters sitting in the corner, a flash of pink catches your eye. Furrowing your brow, your eyes flit back to the flash of color. 

It’s a hot pink Post-It note with messy handwriting in black ink. 

Should I get us burgers or subs for the meeting we have today? 

PS: You’re officially a teacher now with your own pad of Post-Its ;) 

You’re sure that the insane happiness painting your face would look more at home on that of a teenager. Nonetheless, you can’t get rid of it, and you wouldn’t want to. This rings even more true when you see the note is stuck to a copy of Matilda. A warmth blossoms in your chest as you pick it up, running your thumb along the weathered edges. Ones you haven’t touched in ages, it seems. Within seconds you’re stepping into the hallway, thoughts knitting together in your mind. They’re from the love you have deep down for this story, a favorite book, and movie of yours as a child. The elation budding in your mind stops when you find his door closed, just as you had minutes ago. Unable to hide your disappointment, a pout tugs at your lips as you turn around. 

“Ya gotta verdict already? Dat was quick,” a voice drawls from behind you. Your pout is a thing of the past, and a grin is making its way to replace it. Spinning around, your summery dress follows your twirling body. 

A couple paces away, Harry stands at the top step of the staircase. His trademark brown leather backpack is slung over one shoulder. A black Fleetwood Mac t-shirt hugs his upper half, a black and blue flannel covering his arms. His old skool Vans echo down the hallway as he walks towards you. 

“Well, I’ve already read it,” you inform him, observing his content smile turn into a confused one. “A couple of times actually. Once when I was 8, then some other times through the years.”

“Ah, so I got lucky and happened upon a lifetime favourite, have I?” he smirks, only a few steps away now. 

“Mmmhmm,” you nod, your growing hair tickling your chin before you move it away. “When are you going to tell me what your favorite book is?”

“When ya finally guess it right,” he quips, stopping in front of you. A dimple falls into his left cheek as he shows off his sparkling teeth. Okay, sir, it is too early in the morning to be looking this attractive. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop being so chipper when it’s only nine in the morning,” you tell him firmly, but it’s all for show. Poking his chest, your finger just hits pure muscle. Swoon. 

“Then maybe wake up, already, birdy,” he chirps, the Raybans in his hair moving when his head goes from side to side. Chuckling, he grabs hold of your finger and tries to bite it, but you pull away in time. The mention of the recent pet name slows you down, but you haven’t gotten bitten yet. “Ya betta not fall asleep in today’s meetin’ like ya did last week.”

“I didn’t fall asleep, I was just resting my eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. His amused giggle greets your ears as he unclips his ring of keys from his blue jeans. 

“Yes ya did, ya don’t getta lie t’ me, love,” he responds in between laughs, seemingly finding this more amusing than it really is. 

“Oh, so John can fall asleep at meetings, but I can’t?” you ask, your voice raising with laughter and faux annoyance. 

You watch Harry pluck his sunglasses from his head as you walk into his dark classroom. The streams of sunlight speckle desks and pictures donning his walls. As you flick on the light, the smell of oranges wafts over you again. The red bowl sat upon his desk filled with the citrus makes you feel at home, albeit his mere presence does that without fail. 

“No, ya can’t. Sorry, love. I don’t make tha rules ‘round here.”

“Lame,” you sigh, paging through the book mindlessly as you fall into his new chair. He finally splurged and bought a comfy leather one that you steal every chance you can get. 

“Want a Bit-O-Honey, honey?” Harry offers, pulling your eyes away from the familiar pictures. Grinning, you take the wrapped candy from his outstretched hand, trying to ignore the pet name. You find it hard to forget as you half look through the book and half watch him peel off his flannel. A sight, indeed. 

“Wait, how’d you put this in my room if the door was locked? The other books you sneaked in when I stepped out,” you ask suddenly, working on the piece of hard candy in your mouth. 

“I tol’ Marty tha janitor I forgot sumthin’ in yer room.” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice even though his back is to you. A broad one at that. When he turns just the slightest to peek at you, you find crinkles around his glimmering eyes. 

“Harry!” you scoff, your jaw falling to your chest, although not quite. 

“Oh stop it, ya know ya like it.”

Groaning, you cross your arms over your chest in annoyance, but it doesn’t last very long. 

“I don’t like all of these meetings,” you complain, throwing your head back onto the headrest. You flip to a page that makes you smile at the sight of cartoon Matilda. 

“Get used t’ it, ‘s one o’ tha big differences between bein’ a sub an’ a salaried teacher. Shoulda just stayed a sub then,” he jokes, driving you to pick up a Bit-O-Honey and throw it at his head. Turning away from the things he’s unloading from his backpack, he whines. “Heeey! Watch dat arm o’ yers, ‘s a scary one. Maybe ya should be teachin’ gym class instead.”

“Sports are ew,” you reply, ducking when he throws it back at you. “Harry Styles, you stop it!” you manage in between giggles, finally closing the book. 

“Oh ya, and what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it in t’ose heels, huh?” he teases, his hands leaving the pockets of his oversized backpack. “Ya gonna fly over t’ me, li’l birdy?” 

Huffing, you set down the book on his neat desk. Placing his hands on his hips, he turns to you and sticks out his tongue. 

“Oh, that’s it! You’re going to get it!” you threaten, standing from the chair as his laughter fills the room. 

“‘m soooo scared, boohoo,” he teases with a fake sob, his fists mimicking wiping tears from his cheeks. Snickering, he returns to his backpack. “Go hang up yer posters in yer room and leave me be fer once.” 

“You’re no fun,” you proclaim with a final whimper. Grabbing the book, you come up from behind him, softly hitting him with it on the shoulder. 

“I warned you,” he retorts. Before you know it, he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you over to stand in front of him. 

“Warned me about what?” you jest, a giggle wedging its way into your sentence as you drop the book onto a desk. You know that you’re getting on his nerves now. It’s the only time you’ve heard his teacher voice come out, but hey, you’re not complaining. 

His thick eyebrows above those eyes raise, wrinkling his forehead tan from your days at the beach the last few months. Harry pushing you off a rope swing into the water, him bitching about doing all of the paddling during your canoe trip, not so accidentally drenching your back with water from his paddle, and head dunking competitions while swimming. The tan looks far better on him, you think, as you admire the sun-kissed freckles peppering his face. 

“I told ya one time dat yer good at pushin’ me buttons, and here ya are doin’ it. I know I shoulda neva told ya dat,” he mutters, the curls atop his head dancing as his head rocks back and forth. The nervous laughter bubbling inside of you finds its escape, and you know that you’ve done it now. “But I guess ya jus’ don’t listen, do ya, bird?” 

You can’t stop yourself, and there you are poking his dimple with your finger. This time, you squeal when it finds its way between his nibbling teeth. His name leaves your lips in a near shout which only grows worse as his fingers dance along your ribs. 

“Stop, stop!” you cry out, but with no avail. His other arm comes around your middle to trap you with your back against a desk, despite your squirming. His other fingers dig into your sides before finding the soft flesh of your tummy. 

“Stop bloody screamin’, yer gonna make e’rybody think ‘m murderin’ ya or sumthin’,” he titters. You almost give in at the sight of his crinkly eyes and the smile stretching across his face. 

“And what if I don’t?” 

“Then I might jus’ hafta find a way t’ shut ya up, my li’l bird,” he coos from above you, a brunette brow raising. 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes, really,” he hums, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your side now. 

His bubblegum lips relax, falling into a knowing smirk. The laughs disappear from the both of you as his fingers still, resting on your side. The seconds tick by as your heart hammers in your chest, because his face is closer than it was a second ago. You gulp, suddenly finding the gold flecks in his eyes you didn’t know were there. Or the smattering of tiny freckles along his nose. That all becomes a thought of the past when his lips become the only thing you can think about as they near you. “Shall I?” Harry says in a breathy whisper, and you’re nodding even before his last syllable hits the air. 

Your skin feels hot and prickly all over as your eyes fall closed, waiting for what happens next. The very thing you’ve dreamed of since that day you dropped the books in front of him. When he took off his shirt at the beach, revealing his toned chest covered in black tattoos. The charisma and kindness he carried at your very first meeting after you were hired, the beginning of you two being joined at the hip. 

His lips are soft when he presses them against yours, and warm. He surrounds your lips with his slowly, as excitement rushes through you. A woodsy smell engulfs you when your nose brushes against his prickly cheek. His lips feel like velvet against yours with the slightest taste of Carmex chapstick. You’re sure he can feel the smile hiding on yours as his top lip fits between yours like a puzzle piece. His thin beard you’ve never seen him without tickles at your skin as your lips mold together. You can still feel the tingle on your lips after he’s pulled away. As well as the one that spreads across your body when those green eyes look into yours. 

“See, I was right. It did get you t’ shuddup,” he mumbles, the blissed-out smirk on his face covering every inch of his skin. You’ve seen his nervous smiles and everything in between, but you’re certain you’ve never seen that smile before. Not that your face is any better, because right now it’s a competition between whose smile is bigger. It might just be a tie, and you wish there could be a tie-breaker. 

“You should do that more often,” you smile, an uneasy laugh bringing an end to your risky words. 

“I think ‘d be happy with dat.”

You try to tell yourself you’re glad his hands didn’t stray to your face, because he would’ve felt the heat of your tomato likened cheeks. There’s no use, because you want them there, but on your sides, as they are is better than nothing. It fills your stomach with multitudes of butterflies just to have your hands on each other. 

His hands draw shapes into your back when you wrap him in a hug. The fresh smell of his citrus body wash fills your nose, your skin touching the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ya gonna get all soft on me now, are ya?” he whispers above you, his cheek against the side of your head. 

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can muster as you find yourself dragging the tips of your fingers along his side. 

Raising your head to peek up at him, his eyes drop to you. “Good, I like ya dat way,” he murmurs, running his thumb along the roundness of your cheek. His tongue peeks out of his lips, held between his teeth. “Verdict?” he almost laughs, causing the butterflies inside of you to stir. 

“I don’t know. I think I might need um, another sample,” you smirk, watching a corner of his mouth meet his cheek. 

“Tha’s fair,” he agrees before dipping to plant another kiss to your lips. His lips are even more decadent a second time, and you quickly realize how addicting this could become. You realize it’s the only addiction you’d be okay with having as the tip of his nose caresses your cheek. 

Your lips part with a soft smack, much too soon for your liking. “We should prolly get back t’ work,” Harry snickers, his breath against your face sweet from the caramel candy. 

“Yeah,” you agree aloud, much to your dismay. “I’d give it an A, by the way.”

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, quirking his eyebrows in response. 

“A long overdue one.”

“‘d say yer right there,” he echos, pinching your cheek between his fingers. Giggling, you pull away as your laughs mix with each other’s. 

“Hey, Harry!” a voice calls, sounding far away. 

You separate quickly, like two magnets repelling each other. It saddens you, but when a colleague steps into Harry’s classroom a moment later, you’re met with relief as you grab the book off the desk. 

“Hi, Trent. Ya ready t’ see who falls asleep first in t’day’s meetin’?” he quips, stuffing his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly leaning against a desk. 

“My money’s on John, for sure,” Trent jokes, pressing his red glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh hi, Y/N,” he says, greeting you. You wave with a small ‘hi’ as you stand at the edge of the classroom near the windows uneasily. 

“I dunno, my money feels pretty good on her,” Harry teases, pointing a finger at you before winking. 

“Whatever. I better go take my nap now that you reminded me,” you return, sauntering out of the room and into the hall. 

Out of his presence, the butterflies take flight inside of you. A warmth fills your body all over when you reach the safety of your classroom. Closing the door, you fall against it with happiness jumping from the smile on your lips. Squealing with your hands held to your chest, you soon sigh at the thought of his lips. His lips soon being on yours again, and again, and again. 

Exhaling, you step down from the chair and stare at your hard work. Nodding in approval, you straighten the skirt of your patterned mustard dress. The happy face of Anne Frank looks back at you from the enlarged poster of her autobiography. Dragging your feet over to your desk, you plop onto your brown spinny chair, ignoring your heels forgotten on the floor. You bask in the new ambiance of your classroom, feeling the pleasure from the new posters donning your walls. 

The Diary of Anne Frank. 

Ross from F.R.I.E.N.D.S saying ‘you’re means y-o-u  a-r-e.’ 

The quote, ‘Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not’ - Tyrion Lannister.

A funny grammar poster that makes you feel like an even bigger English nerd. 

Frowning, the last poster in the corner sits there begging to be shown off, but you need help with it. After the events of earlier, you’re nervous to approach Harry. A sweet kind of nervousness, but nonetheless it’s there. Huffing, you grab the edge of the desk to pull you closer. Pressing play, the Queen song crawls from your laptop’s speakers, slowly filling the room. Clicking through your open windows, you finally find the unit plan you’ve been working on. 

Voices carry down the hallway outside your door, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Squinting, as if it will help your hearing, you then tilt your head to look out your half-opened door. Jackson from the nearby history wing walks by, laughing at something somebody said. 

“Dis betta not be a bloody heavy desk, Jack,” somebody responds, amusement laced in their voice. 

“Hey, I know that voice,” you softly whisper to yourself, your lips curling at its sound. 

“You’re the one who agreed to help me! You can’t get out of helping me bring it in now, Harry!”

You hear the melodic sound of his laugh, perhaps one of your favorite sounds. The butterflies return when you let yourself think about getting to hear it as much as you’d like in these walls. 5 days a week for 9 months out of the year- well, something like that. 

A couple seconds later, Harry zooms past your door saying, “Get t’ work!” in a mocking deep voice, winking. 

“You!” you shout back, giggling to yourself with hot cheeks. You attempt to return your attention to the document open on your screen. It’s difficult, you find, because the thing consuming your mind is how nice Harry’s bum looked in those jeans. 

*

Chatter pecks at your ears as you swivel in your chair, watching your new colleagues converse around the table. Your new boss laughs with somebody standing at the room’s front by the projector screen. Reaching forward, you pluck another carrot from your plate to nibble on nervously. Once again, you pull out your phone to busy yourself, only making you feel guiltier for not mingling. You’ve already said at least a ‘hi’ to everyone in this room already, and you have the rest of your career to get to know them, you tell yourself. Bouncing your leg, your eyes drift to the clock on the wall. Impatience spreads like a hot wave throughout your limbs, bringing your eyes yet again to the back door to the conference room. When is he going to get here, you guess fervently, counting down the minutes until the meeting starts. 

A thud! surprises you when a white paper bag lands on the table in front of you. 

“Hmm, I didn’t know ya were a jumpa,” a voice snickers, its owner soon coming into view in front of you. Harry. “Why ya lookin’ like a lost puppy, bird?” he coos, pushing out his bottom lip as he pulls out the chair to your right.

“I’m not,” you retort, continuing to scroll through Instagram, stopping when you see a picture of a Goldendoodle puppy. 

“Yes, ya do. What, were ya wonderin’ what’d ya do if I didn’t show? Can’t have ya missin’ yer security blanket now,” he teases, poking you in the ribs with a glint in his eye. 

“Stop,” you giggle, placing your phone face down on the table. Sitting up and eyeing the food, you pinch his thigh for good measure. 

“Hey, watch those fingas, missy. They keep gettin’ ya into trouble lately,” he warns, tsking as his head goes from side to side. Opening the bag, he pulls out a familiar wrapped burger to hand to you. 

“Thank you, I’ll pay you back.”

“Shhhh, ya can pay next time. Sound good?” Harry hums, flitting his eyes to you with an eyebrow raise.

You give him his answer with a nod before taking a bite of the cheeseburger. Your boss starts to tell everybody to find a seat so they can begin the meeting. Out of the corner of your eye, Harry sets a packet of fries in front of you. Shooting him a smile, he returns it as he feeds one between his happy lips. Chairs squeak and whine as they’re moved and sat in around the long table. Somebody nudges your foot, and to no surprise, you find it’s Harry. He holds out a covered paper cup, a red straw poking from the top. A ‘thank you’ is held in your smile and he just nods, slipping off his sunglasses to set down. Your attention is stolen by his fingers raking through his curls to put them back in place. 

A thought pops into your head unwarranted, and consumes your attention as the principal speaks. I wonder if this means now I get to run my fingers through those curls, you ponder as you grab a fry. At the most inconvenient time possible, your mind starts to dig around. Doubts soon fill your thoughts, along with questions about what this will be with him. You try to push them away and lock them in a box, but they’ve done their job. Any smile left on your lips is gone now, and you continue to eat your burger quietly. 

“Ya eat jus’ like a bird with t’ose li’l bites,” Harry whispers, scooting closer to the table to retrieve the packets of ketchup from the bag. 

Turning to look at him, he holds a glowing smile in his eyes for you.  His shoe knocks into yours and he leaves it sitting on top of yours. Take that, stupid brain, you announce to your thoughts as you affectionately bump your knee against Harry’s. 

Reverting your thoughts to the towering figure speaking at the front of the room, a smile buds on your lips at the feeling of Harry rubbing his knee against yours. 

*

Rubbing your hands across your eyes, you feel the breath leave you in a whoosh. Tapping the board with your electronic marker that’s a pen, highlighter, and an eraser in one, you drag it in zig zags. The scribbles on the board disappear in a flash. Suddenly, it falls from your hands when you feel a pair of arms surround your waist. 

“Hiya, bird,” a voice says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Their warm breath tickles the nape of your neck, and so does the collar of their shirt. Spinning around, you find Harry standing there, a pout forming on his face. The adorable Starry Night tie you bought for him hangs loosely over his cornflower blue button-down. “What, why won’t ya lemme hug you?”

“Harry, anybody could walk in,” you insist, prying his arms from your waist. Bending down, you pick up the pen and place it back in its holder with a click. 

“All tha students are gone by now, babe. ‘s half past 3, and any dat are around are at practice. Tha last place they’d wanna be ‘s back t’ a classroom afta their first day o’ school,” he murmurs, wedging his way back into your good graces as he pulls you back into his arms. “I wanted t’ see how me birdy’s first day went. Sooooo, wha’s tha verdict?”

“It was good. A little overwhelming, though,” you hum in return, letting your head fall backward to fit against his cheek. 

“It ‘s fer e’rybody, love, so don’t worry. It’ll get betta, jus’ hang in there. Tha first month ‘s nothin’, that’s tha honeymoon period befo’ e’rythin’ goes wild.” His lips brush against your cheek with every word, the feeling of his ticklish stubble something you’re not yet used to. 

“Harry!” you scoff, turning your head to find his hairy cheeks creased with a devilish smile behind you. 

“‘m kiddin’, well not really, but hey, ya got me t’ help ya through it all. Don’t fret, love,” he tries to assure you, brushing the back of his fingers along your side. “What was yer favourite part o’ yer day, hmm?”

“Seeing some familiar students from when I used to sub. It was nice to catch up with them and hear stories,” you reveal, looking down as you cover his hands settled on your tummy with your own. 

“Mmm, that’s good. Familiar faces are always nice,” Harry mumbles, the point of his nose dragging along the expanse of your cheek. “Did I tell ya yet ya look really pretty in yer new dress?”

“Yes, you did. About three times, but thank you again.”

“Welcome, bird. I hope no teenage boys are crushin’ on ya now,” he jests, planting a loud kiss on your temple. The remnants of his minty piece of gum cover your face in a silent cloud as he laughs at his own joke. 

“Yuck! Oh and like there aren’t dozens of girls fawning over you in your classes?” you chuckle, bringing a whine to his lips when you squirm in his arms. “Put that lip away.”

“Or what? Hmm, what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it? Ya can kiss it away like all tha girls in me classes wanna do, if ya want,” Harry smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you turn around. Lifting a hand from his arm, it lifts to brush back the brown ringlets falling onto his forehead. 

“You’re gross sometimes. It makes me wonder how I can kiss that potty mouth.”

“Well ya do, and ya sure seem t’ like it,” he winks, dramatically licking his lips with a loud slurp. 

“Stop!” you exclaim, collapsing into laughter, your head returning to his chest. His hands clasp over your back, his thumb brushing your skin through the jade dress you wear. You’re grateful for your face hidden away in his chest for when you feel his lips pepper kisses from your temple to your neck. He leaves your skin tingling from his magical touch, and his growing curls leave a trail down your neck. 

“I think dis year’s gonna be a good one,” he coos against your ear, letting his smooth nose brush against its lobe. “I got tha reason right here.” 

“Can we do this though?” The words jump from your lips without a chance to catch them and shove them back in their safety. 

“Do what, love? Kiss? ‘Course, ya jus’ take yer lips and my lips, and put ‘em togetha’ like dis,” he wisecracks, lifting your head to show you the humor painting his face. Puckering his flushed lips, he closes the space between you to press a peck to your waiting lips. Pulling away, he quirks an eyebrow at you in silent questioning. 

“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” you continue, your words falling short of the thoughts buzzing around in your skull. 

“Then what’d ya mean?” 

“Can we, I don’t know . . ,” you begin, but you lose your footing. Leaving his arms regrettably, you almost lose your footing quite literally when he tries to hold on. A sound leaves his lips at your departure, but you try to ignore it. That’s easier said than done, you realize as you fight with yourself, wondering if you should say that word or not. “Date . . as colleagues?” 

They they are, free to the wind. It feels like coming home and your heavy book bag leaving your shoulders, although this time it’s far less trivial. The similarity doesn’t ease your anxious mind as you stop in front of your desk, fingering at the note that greeted you this morning. A pink Post-It note smattered with his sometimes unreadable handwriting, resting on top of a box of novels he gifted to you for your classroom. 

To my favorite teacher - I know you’ve been dreading this day for months, and looking forward to it, too. You’re going to do great. They’re going to love you. You’re not going to mess anything up. You got this, bird. Remember that. Take it easy on yourself. Remember, you have to take care of yourself, so then you can take care of them. You’ll learn from each other too. Just keep remembering pizza at the beach with me tonight to celebrate your first day. 

Harry xoxooxoxoxo 

“‘Course we can, as long as it doesn’t bleed into our work life. What d’ya mean?” Harry says, trying to inject lightheartedness into his words. You both can hear the failed effect they have, and they only make his words sound sadder. 

“I don’t know, I don’t want to like, get in trouble, or something. I just started this job.”

“Oh,” is all he mumbles. Mumbled or not, you hear the finality in his one word. As well as all that it says with that single syllable. 

Looking over your shoulder at him, you find the confirmation you needed knitting together his features. “Harry,” you say, turning the rest of your body to face him. He takes a step back, and now you know you’ve done it. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then how’d ya mean it?” he retorts, coolness playing in his voice. He knows he’s done it, too. “Hmmm, bird? Ya only care ‘bout dat part o’ it - if we get caught and what people would think? Only wanna keep me a secret?” His words bite as he spits them into the air. They hit your face with a sting, but nothing compares to how he threw your nickname into the mud. The nickname you love, that happened all because of the first meal you shared together. 

“Harry, don’t. You know that’s not what I meant- Y-you’re being ridiculous,” you press, stepping forward. It’s like one step forward and two steps back, because he continues to walk away from you. Quickly, your hands grow shaky as the feeling consumes the rest of your body. 

“No, I know what ya meant. Or ‘s there mo’ ya want t’ say? Want t’ say dat ‘Oh, ‘s too risky, so maybe we shouldn’t do dis anymo’, even tho’ it makes us happy,’” Harry persists, his right hand lifting in question, before it falls with a slap to his thigh. 

“We never even said what this was,” you try to say, but before you get any further, you know you’re just making it worse. You know that he’ll read into your words incorrectly and assume the worst, despite your true meaning. At the realization, your heart pounds harder in your chest. The look on his face like you just slapped him tells you all you need to know. “Harry, wait.”

“No, yer right. We neva said what dis was, but apparently ‘s nuthin’ worth labelin’ or takin’ risks fer,” he grumbles. His head falls with a spiteful smile, but when it lifts again something shatters in your chest. With wet eyes, he continues in a croaky voice, “Then why’d ya take tha job knowin’ I was mad ‘bout ya?” 

Your lips wobble with his name dangling from them. When you try to walk over to him, you’re only two steps in when he holds a hand up. “No, don’t. ‘m glad ya told me early on. ‘m happy I didn’t already start fallin’ fer ya or anythin’. That’d be real shitty, wouldn’t it?” he wheezes, a strange smile tugging at his lips dealing failed sarcasm. Sniffling, a tear falls down his tanned skin and he brushes it away. With a shake of his head, he turns to walk out of the door. You know that you shouldn’t, but you let him, because you know you have to. 

Collapsing at your desk, your head falls into your hands. Tears splash into your palms as your chest shakes, wondering just how you turned the best first day into the worst first day. 

*

You know that a note won’t be there, but you continue to wish as your heels clack down the halls of lockers. You know that you’ll see his face no matter how hard you try to avoid him, and that it’ll hurt more than you thought it would. Although you prepared yourself, unlocking the door to your classroom and finding no notes from him hurts more than you suspected. The hurt only stings worse when you pass each other in the halls with your students trailing behind, eyes falling away instantly. The spark in the air is lost when he huffs, passing you on the way to the vending machine in the lounge, leaving as soon as he came. Although the hurt grew as the attacks came and went, nothing could prepare you for the absence of his notes that week. That was an eventuality you had dreaded thinking of since the day you found the first one, back in his classroom. 

You tried at the very least, albeit an understatement. Notes dropped into his mailbox went unanswered, as well as texts and phone calls. Even the bag of Bit O Honeys failed at their messages of apology. A few times you thought about trudging into his classroom after the bell rang, and hashing it out. Each time you mustered just enough courage to do so, a staff meeting got in the way. Or, within 5 minutes of the bell, his door was locked and he was gone. Speaking of staff meetings, you suffered even worse at those. No longer was he your security blanket at your side, because he no longer saved you a seat. Slowly, the young and pretty visual arts teacher grew to get on your nerves as you watched her be a little too nice to him. He didn’t entertain her taunts and turn to you with a smirk to rub it in your face. No, he was a good guy, and you had to go and ruin it, or what was becoming of it. 

He ignored you - at staff meetings, in the copy room, in the staff lounge, in the halls, when both of your classes were in the library - basically everywhere and anywhere. It was an understatement to say you suffered because of it. You had to buddy up with Jen, the poetry teacher. She took the brunt of your questions, whether technology-related or English related. You became fast friends, but unlike the easiness with Harry, you quickly felt you were a nuisance. That was something he never made you feel like, well, until now that is. 

You made the mistake of getting your hopes up when you found a bag of Bit O Honeys in your mailbox one morning. That is until the white note on it told you in his writing to stop plugging his box with them. Instead, you tossed them on the counter in the staff lounge to share, never wanting to see those yellow and red wrappers again. Quickly, what you thought had become your dream job morphed into a nightmare. His face filled your thoughts day after day, and it especially distracted you when your mind chose the tear-stricken memory. It bled into your lectures and although it stung less when you saw him, without fail every day, it was messing with your mind. It didn’t help when you were beginning a unit on Romeo and Juliet and a student joked you could play Juliet and Mr. Styles could play Romeo, quite literally. 

*

You had been staying after school every day to finish lesson plans, grade tests, reflect on teaching, and plan for the next day. The October chill that arrived this week only made you want to stay in your cozy classroom with the Autumn decorations you hung up. Soon, it would be Halloween and costumes would fill the halls. The thought pours memories into your mind, but a particular one sours the enjoyment for you. The memory of planning a matching costume with Harry. Jay and Daisy from The Great Gatbsy, like the English teacher nerds you are. Were. 

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you reach for your water bottle. A groan finds its way past your lips when you pick it up, only to find it's empty. Standing with it in your hands, you cross the room to your door. After a few steps into the hallway, your movements freeze at the sight of his open door. Biting back any hesitations, your hand shakes when it presses against the wood. 

Something thrilling washes over you when you find his head bent over his desk. His left hand covered with varying rings props his head up as he marks the page with his favorite red pen. A Micron pen, but only you would know that. Pausing, he fiddles with the tan braces strapping his shoulders clad in a handsome white and gray checkered button-down. Words stick together inside of your mouth, and when you hear the click of your shoe, regret surges inside of you. 

“I made a mistake,” you say, testing the waters, although you know they’re stormy. Clearing your throat, you hope the subsequent ones will come out louder and stronger, before he can stop you. Your galloping heart jumps when he lifts his head to look at you, a question painting his face. “I fucked up, and I could never say how sorry I am. I said the wrong things, and I didn’t mean them that way- that’s not the point . . . I miss you, Harry. You’re all I think about, even when I’m thinking of other things, or when I’m teaching. That’s how I know it’s bad, because even though it’s only been a month, it still hurts like it was yesterday,” your voice screeches to a halt. You take one step at a time as he watches you. 

A curl tickles his bearded cheek, making you want to tuck it back into place, but you can’t. A crumb from a chip sits on his chin, making you want to brush it away, but you know you can’t. And neither can you whisk away the worry lines forming around his eyes. 

“I need you, not just to help me figure out how to use a projector or what a conjunction is again. But I need to tell you about the good parts of my day, and even the bad parts. Because even though we haven’t talked for like a month, my mind still goes to you when something good happens, or even bad. Even my students tease that we should be together, so that says something,” you try your hand at joking, but he turns his attention back to his desk. “Harry, please. I’m sorry,” you plead with him, tears catching the last of your words. 

“Sorry doesn’t jus’ make it all go away, bird,” he returns cooly. His head lifts ever so slightly, only to fall. As if he changed his mind a few seconds into a decision.

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll buy you Bit-O-Honeys for the rest of your life, grade your papers, check your mailbox, or buy the next meals for a month. Anything.” The apologies run off of your lips, but he doesn’t say anything, nor do his actions. An exhale whooshes over your pursed lips as your nails dig into your clenched palms. Defeat covers your body as you turn to leave. 

“None o’ dat takes away what ya said,” he announces painfully, the new fabric of his chair squeaking with his movements. 

“I know,” you say automatically, a battle waging its way inside of you of whether to look at him. As if his words laced with hurt didn’t already leave you breathless. “So tell me what I have to do.”

“I can’t do dat, bird. Ya should know,” he sighs, clucking his tongue in disbelief. 

Your eyes fall shut and your jaw clenches in anger, but the sweet smell of oranges brings you back to the moment. “I’m sorry that I made it seem like it wasn’t worth being with you, because it was, and I realized that even more after . . what happened. I’m sorry that it didn’t seem like I was dedicated enough, but I want to be a- I want to show you that I can be, and I want to be that to you. I’m sorry that I care too much about what other people think, because I only care what you think. It’s ripped me apart lately knowing that you hate me, and how you can’t even be around me, and . . ,” your string of words breaks off, stolen away by your onset of tears. They rumble through your chest with tremors, and the embarrassment brings your hands to your face streaked with them. 

The howling of the wind hugs the windows, masking any other sounds. If there were, you can’t hear them, but you do feel something. His fingers wrapping around yours, pulling your hands away from your face. 

“Ya gonna stop now befo’ ya make me cry too?” he hums, one corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With raised eyebrows, they pose the question to you. Nodding fast with hiccups stealing your words, he kneads your hands between his own. “Are ya gonna shuddup or am I gonna hafta make you?” Harry softly laughs. 

“You’re going to have to make me,” you return, stumbling over your sobbed words. 

“Good, was hopin’ ya’d say dat.”

Smirking playfully, he steps forward to cup your face in his hands. The callused tips of his fingers make quick work of the tears staining your face, as well as his lips. “Don’t cry, and don’t ever say dat I hate you,” he coos in between pecks to your wet skin singing with his kisses. “Don’t want me pretty birdy t’ cry no mo’.”

“Your bird doesn’t want to cry and be sad, and miss you anymore,” you whimper, trying to hold it all in, but it comes pouring out. 

“Baby bird,” he pouts sadly, his rose lips round and extended. His brow presses into a sad line as the same emotion carries his words. “Lemme make it all betta.”

Nodding, you hiccup again as you cover his hands with yours. His subsequent smile warms your insides cold and aching from the long days without him. His lips bring a respite when they touch yours, ending the harsh drought. Kissing him back, you revel in the feeling of his unkempt scratchy beard against your face. Just one more thing you missed. Severing the kiss, you mumble an ‘I’m sorry’ against his chapped lips. 

“Shhh, ‘s okay, love. I know ya are,” he tells you before bringing his lips back against yours. They move together slowly, welcoming the return of the other. 

Your mouth falls to envelope his bottom lip in between yours, his facial hair feathery against your mouth. Hungrily, you kiss him and savor his familiar taste and smell. Fingers drifting to his hair, they return home to his buttery curls. His lips pull away only to plant another kiss against your mouth. Too soon, he breaks the kiss with a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“My goodness, lemme breathe, love.”

“Sorry . . I missed you.”

“Ya sure did, bird. Think I missed ya a li’l more, though,” Harry chuckles as your hands fall from his locks. His thumb steals the last hint of a tear from under your eye. The amusement creasing his features disappears swiftly. “‘m sorry too, y’know. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have put meself over yer job. It wasn’t fair o’ me t’ do dat. D’ya think I can have those Bit-O-Honeys back, or were ya serious ‘bout buyin’ me a lifetime supply?”

Groaning, you playfully shove at his chest, only to have him wrap you up in his arms. “I guess I was serious.”

“Hmm, ya don’t sound too serious ‘bout it, bird. But that’s okay, I got all tha honey I need right here,” he replies, planting a kiss atop your head nuzzled into his neck, swaying you back and forth. Nodding, you finally let yourself relax for the first time in weeks at the greeting of his sweet smell. One that feels like home to you. “Wait, yer students said we should be togetha? That’s funny, cuz so did mine.” 

[snow-white-shadow]

Do you think A LOT of fans had quite high expectations for this episode (with one of those expectations being Hortense appearing)? I was in it for Matilda, what Webby did to cause the fight, and Pepper, with my only high expectation being that this episode was gonna be the next Last Crash based on my friends' theories (which thankfully proved to not be the case); because of that, I personally enjoyed this episode.

I don’t think I’m the right person to answer this kind of question.

I watch a Ducktales 2017 episode: “LOL this is a funny moment!”, “AWWW this is a heartwarming moment”, occasionally a “SOB this is a sad moment” and a “WHOA this is an awesome moment” and that’s it, I’m done. 22 minutes have passed: did I enjoy the episode? Y/N.

There.

I leave the analysis and expectations to other people and I sometimes agree with some of their theories.

Yes, I’m boring AF, I know. I’m 29 and I don’t have time and desire for overanalyzing things - FICTIONAL things -, BUT trust me when I say that I LOVE the series.

As for this episode, if you REALLY want to know, I also personally did not like it that much, but just in terms of entertainment: the plot was clichéd (Family fights! 2/3 of the episode are spent arguing! Oh look, a reminder that we are indeed family and thus we should not fight! We make up to defeat the bad guy! We win! Episode ends) and I caught myself looking at the remaining time of the episode to see if “Are we done yet?” several times. Also, as I said in another post: angry Scots. I barely understood what they were saying most of the time.

What I liked were the gags and Pepper (and Phantom Blot + Pepper moments).

So yeah, I’m not that different from other people who disliked the episode, but when I see long posts/basically essays that overanalyze the characters (poor Webby, she was criticized so much - and, “OH NO, Matilda is the youngest and not Hortense??” *Don Rosa stans riot*) and the episode and how it ruined the entire season (that has been the best so far IMO) or even THE ENTIRE SERIES, then I’m like “Dude(s), calm down: too much salt is bad for your blood pressure, and it’s not worth it if it’s about CARTOON DUCKS”.

I mean: it’s okay to be into something, “but not too far or you’ll be drowned” (unnecessary Frozen 2 quote: check!)

---

(Do NOT reply if you’re gonna criticize my post/opinion: someone asked me a question and I civilly answered, so please rethink of your life priorities before you flame me about - again - FICTIONAL things)

[green-eyed-whumpster]

My OC Universe: Rowan 74

Chapter 74 Summary: The next morning Rowan confronts Cordelia about what she said the night before. (Tagture: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: Reference to previous abuse and character death (Ooh noo)

It felt different when Rowan woke up the next morning, the bed was warmer than the others had been. Cordelia had tucked him into the painfully familiar bed and layered on more blankets and quilts until it was heavy on his form. It was comforting, though, like being hugged at all times. And without having to face whoever was hugging you and waiting for what they wanted in return for the comfort.

He poked his head out from the cocoon he had curled up in and found Cordelia-or Peter’s bed empty. He didn’t want to get up if he wasn’t supposed to, he knew Cordelia had told him he was allowed to do what he wished now, but he didn’t want to risk upsetting her. Eventually the urge to go to the bathroom roused him from his haven and he nervously opened the door to the bedroom, peaking out to the main room of the house. He couldn’t see Cordelia or Peter, and tiptoed into the lounge. “Good morning,” He let out a cry of surprise and turned on the voice, Peter’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in worry but he continued to smile at the boy,  cupping a heavy clay mug in his hands. “I’m sorry, did I frighten you?” He asked as Rowan hesitantly relaxed in front of him. “Ah, no-no, sorry,” He murmured. “You don’t need to apologise to me, Rowan,” Peter replied softly. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Black with lemon and plenty of honey. Sticky sweetness clinging to the back of my throat. Bitter tea. Sour tingling on my tongue. Why can’t you ever decide what flavour you want? “Yes, please.” I hate lemon and honey. I hate tea. “Come and sit down, Cordelia just went to get some eggs so I can make breakfast.” Rowan tentatively stepped towards the rough dining table and sliding into the chair furthest from Peter. “How would you like it?” Rowan looked up curiously and met Peter’s sympathetic gaze. “What?” “How would you like your tea?” Peter asked again and Rowan paused. “I-um…” He trailed off as he tried to think, racking his brain for some combination that he might like. “How about this,” Peter put down his mug and moved towards Rowan, watching as he stiffened at his approach. “Here,” He put down a sugar bowl and a jug of milk in the middle of the table and smiled at him. “You can make it yourself.” Sugar, not honey. Maybe milk would be nice. “Thank you,” Rowan whispered and Peter nodded. “Of course, help yourself.” He put down a mug of black tea close to Rowan, but not too close, and moved back over to the wood stove. The door opened and Rowan’s head jerked to it, a sharp pain throb momentarily in his head from moving so quickly, but gone by the time he recognised Cordelia as the intruder. “Oh, hey, Rowan,” She smiled, closing the door behind her and shutting out the thundering rain. “You’re just in time, Peter’s making breakfast,” At that word there was a sizzle by Peter and Rowan’s head turned again, seeing the frying pan that had been heating up on the stove. As Cordelia moved towards the bench Rowan could see glints of raindrops slipping down her hair, soaking into her coat or dropping to the floor silently. 

She sat down adjacent to him and took up her own mug of tea that was laying abandoned on the surface. “Are you hungry?” Cordelia asked and he glanced at her through his lashes. “Yes,” He murmured and she moved the sugar and milk towards him. “Here, breakfast won’t be too long,” She watched as he spooned a bit of sugar into his tea and poured in plenty of milk, stirring it obsessively as he listened to the bacon in the frypan spitting. You lied to me. “Cordelia, I overcooked your eggs,” Peter said apologetically as he placed a plate in front of her. “But I figured you’d rather have overcooked eggs than have to go outside again.” He grinned as she pouted at it. “I bet you did it on purpose,” She scowled at him and Peter chuckled. “I haven’t cooked you breakfast in years.” He replied as her lips twitched up. “Always full of excuses.” She grumbled, picking up a butterknife. “You guys eat up, I’m going to get some more wood for the fire.” Peter said and moved towards the door. Rowan realised there was a plate within reach of him, most probably for him. As he reached for it he heard the door close behind Peter and Cordelia turned to look at him. “Are you all right?” She asked and he turned to look at her out of the corner of his eye. “Why did you lie to me?” He asked and watched as her face screwed up in confusion. “I don’t understand,” She said cautiously and he finally faced her. “You told me Oliver was alive.” Her face fell as he revealed what he meant. “Were you listening to our conversation last night?” She asked and he nodded. “I got up when I first heard you guys getting upset.” He said flatly. “Why did you lie to me?” “It…it was easier,” She began uncomfortably, shifting in her seat. “I had to get you out of the castle. And I thought it would be easier for you to just know that he was alive. I couldn’t have you getting worked up or alerting any servants or guards that we were there.” “It was easier…to make me think my only friend was dead?” He asked thickly, tears welling in his eyes as he processed the words. He was hoping she would deny it, say that she was lying to Peter just to make her point. But she didn’t. “No, Rowan, it’s not like that –“ “What’s it supposed to be like?” He asked angrily. “You…you lied to me! To get me to do what you wanted! You’re just like William!” He threw himself to his feet as his chest tightened and she quickly rose to join him. “No, Rowan, please. Please just let me explain,” She said stepping towards him. “How could you lie to me like that?” Rowan demanded as tears spilled over his pale cheeks and she shook her head. “Please, if anyone had found you then you would have lost your chance at freedom, and Marie’s entire plan would have been overthrown. I had to think of the greater good.” She whispered as he backed away from her. “And I thought it would have been easier for you if you thought he was alive. I thought it would be better for you if you didn’t know he was dead. I’m sorry, I swear I thought I was doing what was best.” She took a careful step towards him, watching for any movement that would indicate he was about to run. 

The way a hunter would look at a cornered animal. 

Maybe that’s all he was. “But Matilda…it’s all my fault!” He whimpered, curling his hands over his mouth. “Why would they have killed Oliver? I-I…you were right! I wish I didn’t know!” His chest ached heavily as she approached him, close enough for her to embrace him gently. “I’m so sorry, Rowan,” She said softly. “I should have told you.” He sobbed as he cuddled his face into her collarbone, leaning gratefully into the embrace. “No, you were right,” He hiccupped against her chest. “It was probably better that I didn’t know.” I know people die, I know they die all the time. I know there’s nothing I could do to change it. But, it wasn’t fair that they killed Oliver. “It’s all right,” Cordelia whispered, rubbing his back comfortingly. “Trust me, soon everything will be all right. You can live a normal life here, and Peter will protect you.” She promised. “I know,” He sniffled softly. “Eventually.”