#((it's so wild! some of my parents' friends took them to lunch there a while back))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

At this, Dorian and Beau couldn't help but exchange little glances, both touched and amused by the girlish glee that came over Emily at this question, her delight at recounting such an important moment in her and Randall's courtship, the moment where she made her feelings known, and the two officially became a (private) item.

(Just as well that Emily was so forward in that moment. Something told Beau that Randall-sweet, shy, humble Randall Pace, who in some ways seemed unable to believe his best friend was so unfathomably wealthy and sometimes worried about stepping out of line when spending time with him-would not be so bold, no matter how much he loved her, and Dorian was inclined to agree.)

"Well, I offer you both my deepest congratulations on your engagement," Beau nodded with an earnest smile, before turning a touch melancholy as he looked at the pair, asking, "And, on a more dour note...please, tell him I send my deepest condolences, in regards to the passing of his mother. She was...a lovely woman; hard-working, kind, a good friend...she was an admirable woman, who raised an admirable son."

Though Mrs. June Pace didn't work at Gracey Manor as long as she would've liked (having found the pay worth it if it meant getting to tend to such a beautiful, sprawling garden day in and day out, as well as see her one and only son finally have a friend beyond his teddy bear), she and Beauregard Ghast got along very well in the time she was in the Gracey's employ, her expressing gratitude at Beau looking after her son, treating him no different than Dorian, while he openly admired her resolve, her sense of humor in the face of adversity, and her skill with all things that grew. She was a lovely woman, and Beau would've liked to have gotten to know her better.

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊◜ a kiribaku x reader scenario that’s lived in my head for awhile now! it’s not really a formalized…anything. just fleeting thoughts. ♡ ✿ tangled hearts modern au masterlist ✿ ｡‧˚ʚ wc; ~2.6k ɞ˚‧｡ next entry: delicate (isn’t it?)

Thinking about a modern day AU with Kirishima and Bakugo settling down in the countryside for a quiet life away from the hustle of the city. They’re in their early 30s, married and happily tucked away in their own little paradise - until they meet you.

Bakugo works with his parent’s fashion agency as the director of the design department, and is a designer himself. He went to the highest credible fashion institute in Tokyo and graduated top of his class - as expected.

Kirishima is a personal trainer and owner of the local gym. He took a few business classes after high school and general fitness courses to learn all about it. He loves getting to help people and knows almost every single person in town. He also volunteers with the local fire company.

It was the ideal place for them, not too big and not too cramped. Bakugo had his own garden that he cherished while Kirishima loved the backyard for home exercising. Their home was spaced out from their neighbors and gave them the perfect amount of privacy.

The town is only an hour and change outside the city, still remaining close for friends and family by train. Bakugo mostly worked from home and only went into the city office for important meetings and press conferences. He preferred to work in his own space while designing instead of in a buzzing office where anyone could bother him - especially his parents.

Their morning routine was simple: Bakugo would wake up anytime between 6 and 6:30am, rolling out of bed to start breakfast and coffee. By the time he’s done cooking, Kirishima stumbles into the kitchen with his eyes half closed, sleepily making his way over to kiss his husband good morning. They’d sit at the table together and casually talk about their plans for the day or in silence as they enjoyed each others company.

That was all disrupted the morning Kirishima spotted you outside the gym, waiting for it to open. He didn’t recognize you like he did everyone else in town - that immediately caught his attention. Once inside, you introduced yourself and told him how you moved from the city for a new job. The two of you got to talking longer than anticipated and ended up bonding over you being new to town. Kirishima signs you up for his yoga classes the following week, excited to see you mesh with his regulars.

Bakugo’s on his lunch break later in the day at the local market to pick up his usual fresh vegetables and fruits when he spots you browsing the aisle behind him. He peeks over his glasses to see his design logo on the small tag at the hem of your tshirt. He simply smiles to himself, proud to see a garment of his in the wild, and finishes his own shopping.

───

A few weeks go by of getting to know Kirishima as you attend his classes. You’d stop and talk with him afterwards each time, slowly developing a friendship. One day after class, he casually mentions to you that his husband is a great cook and how his food rivals any five star restaurant from the city. On a whim, he invites you to dinner with him and Bakugo at their home - you agree happily. You didn’t have any friends in the area, what’s the harm in meeting people?

You arrive at their cozy home and are greeted heartily by Kirishima at the door as he puts a hand on your back and welcomes you inside. Bakugo turns his attention from the stove to the door, nodding in your direction as he continues cooking. You can’t help but think he looks…familiar.

Their place is gorgeous, tidy and clean, yet homey. There were pictures of their family and friends hung up all over alongside some simple art pieces and knick knacks. You could already tell who decorated versus who didn’t - Kirishima is definitely not the type to decorate so eloquently.

You’re gazing at one of the pictures when the realization smacks you in the face.

He’s responsible for half the clothes in your closet.

Kirishima is married to the Katsuki Bakugo of the fashion world? And you’re in his house for dinner that he’s serving to you?!

The thought makes you dizzy as your face flushes, desperately trying to hide your sudden excitement. And you chose to wear one of the dresses he designed for a collaboration years ago. What are the chances? Kirishima never told you what his husband’s name was, just that he was married.

“Y/N, I want you to meet my husband, Katsuki!” Kirishima excitedly says as he’s walking you to the kitchen. “Kat, this is Y/N. She’s the one I told ya about from my yoga class!”

The two of you lock eyes for a moment before Bakugo looks you up and down, calculating his first impression of you. He wasn’t about to tell you that he’s seen you around town before, he had to play it cool and not make it seem like he already knew you existed.

“Nice ta meet ya,” he greets before returning his attention to the stove. “Dinners just about ready. Ei, can you set the table?”

You all sit down for dinner, and it’s absolutely delicious. Kirishima was not joking about Bakugo’s cooking, every single thing you ate was delightful. You honestly don’t know if you’ve had a better meal than his.

“This is absolutely amazing, Ba-”

“Jus’ call me Katsuki.”

Him cutting you off to correct his name before you even finished saying it made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, sure. Katsuki, this is honestly one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” you repeat, picking at that last of your vegetables on your plate. “I saw a garden outside. Do you grow them yourself?”

Bakugo grins, glowing at your compliments. “Yep. Anythin’ not in season I grab from market.”

Kirishima watches the two of you interact, happy that he was right about the three of you getting along seamlessly.

You shuffle in your seat at the next pause in your conversation before deciding to ask the burning question on your mind.

“So, Katsuki…what do you do for work?”

He laughs, motioning to your sundress. “Ya don’t have to beat around the bush about it. I can spot my work from a mile away.”

That broke the ice and allowed you to relax, knowing he didn't think you were trying to impress him by wearing his own design. The night went on, way past dinner, where the three of you talked about any and everything. It felt as if they’d already known you their whole lives, the conversation never feeling forced and flowing naturally.

“Shit, I’m sorry for staying so late!” You exclaim while looking at your phone. “Didn’t mean to keep you guys up.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n! You’re welcome here anytime,” Kirishima assured, slinging his arm around Bakugo on the couch. “We’d love to have ya over for dinner again soon!”

You’re about to head out the door when Bakugo gets up from the couch and stops you. “It’s dark, lemme walk you back to your place.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you insist, but he wasn’t having it. He was already changing out of his slippers and into a pair of sneakers. He held the door open for you as you waved to Kirishima, thanking him again for having you over and that you’ll see him for class in the morning.

You and Bakugo are walking down the dimly lit street toward your apartment complex, hands in his pockets, when he strikes up another conversation about your dress.

“You didn’t need to act so shy about the dress,” he comments. “Looks good on ya.”

You can feel your cheeks get hot again, praying he can't see your reaction in the street lights. "T-thanks! I love your work. I actually have a lot of the clothes you’ve designed…what are the odds?” You trail off at the end out of nervousness, playing with the fabric of the dress.

“Yeah? Good to know.”

The two of you approach your building and he says a simple ‘good night’ as he waves, turning to head home.

There’s a weird feeling in your chest, one that you haven’t felt in a long time. A warmth that floods your body with…you can’t pinpoint it. It makes you sweat, but comforts you at the same time.

Little did you know that the boys were feeling the exact same way.

───

Months go by as the three of you become inseparable - dinners, movie nights, shopping at the market, going into the city together, meeting their friends, walking around town at sunset, picnics in the park, you name it. Kirishima and Bakugo never knew they could feel so comfortable with someone so quickly - it was as if the three of you were meant to find each other.

While the two of them are lying in bed one night, Kirishima decides to open up about his feelings. He rolls over to face Bakugo, his usual pointy hair fluffed around his face against the pillow.

“Kats, I got a question for ya. It’s kinda…weird?” He starts, fiddling with the hem of the comforter. “Do you…uhh, shit. Do you have any feelings toward Y/N?”

Bakugo flips to his side to face him. “What do y’mean?”

“Oh don’t be like that. I think she’s…really cute,” he admits, his cheeks turning rosy. “I enjoy having her around.”

Bakugo grumbles in embarrassment, pulling the comforter up to cover his face. He feels like a high school boy all over again - he just didn’t want to admit it.

They’d both fallen for you simultaneously without even saying a word. Neither of them knew why, they’ve been together for over a decade now - since their college days. No one has ever made their hearts race in sync like you do.

“I’ll take that reaction as an agreement,” Kirishima teases, poking Bakugo’s forehead through the covers. He groans again as he throws the blanket off his face.

“It’s been confusin’ the shit outta me. I love you, Ei and that doesn’t change shit, but goddamn. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” Bakugo admits, face and ears burning hot.

“Aw, you’re so cute when you have a crush!” He scoots closer to Bakugo and kisses him on the forehead. “Haven’t seen that side of ya since college.”

Bakugo bats at him playfully, pushing him away as he whines, “Shut the fuck up!”

“So…what do we do about it?” Kirishima’s question hangs in the air between them, heavy…but alluring.

───

The next few times you hang out with the boys, you can tell that things feel a little more…intense? If that was the right word, the feeling was foreign. You found yourself becoming more physical with the two of them, and each time gave you butterflies. You weren’t quite sure what was going on until that fateful night.

It was a dreary night, the remnants of the storm passing through the town. The rain was no longer a torrential downpour and had tapered off into a sprinkle, enough to allow you to walk home safely. You’re heading for the door as Bakugo catches up to you, umbrella in hand.

“Y’know the drill, I’m not lettin’ ya walk home alone. Especially when it’s still raining.”

“Kat, you hate the rain, it’s fine,” you argue, but know it’s pointless. Bakugo waves at Kirishima and you notice Kirishima’s smile is extra wide tonight…and did he wink?

He closes the door behind the two of you and opens the umbrella on the porch, slinging an arm around your shoulders to huddle you under its protection.

The walk to your apartment is silent, an unknown tension lingering in the air. The subtle flexing of Bakugo’s fingers on your shoulder is driving you wild, a simple touch was enough to ignite the fire in your gut. Reaching your apartment complex, you stop to thank him for walking you home like always, but something else spills from your lips instead.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Bakugo’s taken aback by your question, confused where this has come from. “What? No, not at all. Why?”

“I…just don’t wanna make you two uncomfortable,” you whisper, eyes cast to the ground. “I really like you two…and don’t want to come between y-”

The umbrella clatters to the ground as Bakugo throws it to the side, letting the rain pelt against the both of you as one hand pulls you into him by the waist and the other under your chin.

“That’s right where we want ya,” he speaks against your lips. He hesitates, tilting his head back and looking directly in your eyes. “Tell me to back off, and I will. We can act like-”

This time, you cut him off by putting a hand on the back of his head and one on his chest, pulling him to meet your lips. The world stops around you as the rain trickles down your faces and vaguely into your kiss. You tangle your arms around each other’s bodies, illuminated by the soft street lights as your clothes become heavier with rainwater. After what feels like ages, you part, catching the breath you’ve stolen from each other’s lungs.

No words are spoken as Bakugo takes your hand, tugging you back down the road toward their place. You giggle and begin to run with excitement, skipping through the rain with him all the way back. Throwing open the front door, you both take a step inside, soaking wet from the rain. Kirishima glances over from the couch, shocked to see you return with Bakugo.

“Woah! What happened to you two?” he asks, concerned yet intrigued. He then notices you’re holding hands, and it clicks.

You’re stripping the wet clothes from your body faster than you can chicken out of doing so, letting them plop on the floor of the foyer until you’re left in your bra and underwear. Bakugo follows suit and trails behind you as you make your way over to Kirishima on the couch. You take a deep breath before placing a hand on each of his shoulders, sliding into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist anxiously, scared you’ll shatter under his touch.

“It’s okay, Eiji,” you coo, leaning down to his ear. “You can touch me.”

You turn back to Bakugo as he’s sitting next the two of you on the couch, reaching a hand out to stroke his cheek. “Katsuki can, too.”

That’s all the permission they need to devour you all night long - over and over again like a drug they couldn’t get enough of. Brief naps in between, each time better than the last. Hands tangled in hair, lips kissing skin in sinful places, and noises only the three of you could orchestrate together.

That was the night their lives changed forever, thanks to you. Things were easy and simple between the three of you - you blended into their routines perfectly as the weeks progressed. Waking up between the two of them each morning was heavenly, especially when they fought over who got to cuddle you through the night. Bakugo usually won that fight until he would go make breakfast, then Kirishima would tuck you under his arm and hold you close.

Everything was so easy between you three, you were the missing puzzle piece in their lives that they didn’t know was absent.

You were theirs, and they were yours - simple as that. They wouldn’t trade their newfound goddess for the world.

i immediately think of @pastelbakugou & @kweenkatsuki-fics when it comes to kiribaku x reader, thank you for being my inspirations! 💜

[fuyuu-chan]

Neuvillette As Your Beloved Partner ~Headcanons~

Pairing: Neuvillette x Reader

Fuyuu-chan: My imagination rn is literally going wild hahahaha

Warning(s): This headcanon is literally a mess, Not proofread, it's also short hahahaha

Genre: Fluff

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

• Okay first of all, I don't think Neuvillette would tell you immediately in your early stage of your relationship that he is the hydro dragon, but of course he would tell you after a while when he thinks it's the right time to tell you, so you eventually find out about it.

• Once you know that the hydro dragon is actually Neuvillette, you got surprised at first and tried to process it but now that you think of it, it does rain when he's sad, you thought at first that maybe that was just a coincidence but apparently not.

• So whenever it rains in fontaine you immediately knew that Neuvillette is sad, so whether your outside doing stuff, you will go to his office because you knew for a fact that he's always there at the afternoon, well he feels tired and got affected after trials and you noticed it after being with him for a while.

• You will be there and comfort him and tell him sweet nothings and cuddle him.

• Now another thought of both of you holding hands while you both walk to your destination, and most of the people in fontaine always saw you both holding hands and can't help but look at you and neuvillette sweetly, everyone literally says that the both of you are the best couple in fontaine.

• You also visits Neuvillette in his office, but mostly you visit him at lunch break and you both eat lunch whether you bring food, go to picnic or have a reservation in a restaurant.

• You also visits him at his office at afternoon when your work finishes and spends some time there either reading some book or help him with his papers, when he's talking to someone and you happen to see Furina who is your close friend who loves dramas as well, you both would chat about stuff until Neuvillette finishes talking to someone at his office.

• And at times were Neuvillette are free you both hangout together with the melusines, you had gotten close with them even before you and Neuvillette got together and when they knew that you both is in a relationship they were all happy about it because they're two favorite humans (okay maybe not really about neuvillette but he's in human form soo) are together that all of them see you both as they're parents.

• At times that you are sad or stressed, Neuvillette will be there for you but if his currently busy he will try to make time for you but if he can't like his in a trial he will tell the melusine Liath to bring you the flowers he had picked and your favorite snacks with a letter from him, but most of the time Neuvillette is always besides you, he will hug you, comfort you, and cuddle you just like what you do for him whenever he's sad.

• He will actually give you flowers every week (but if you don't like flowers he will give you other gifts).

• Oh! Oh! OHHHH .... Okay okay, you both might as well go to the sea and go diving together as you both see some sea creatures and otters!! You also said to Neuvillette after going diving with him that he kinda resemble an otter despite being a hydro dragon, which he got confused but when you said that it's because of his hair now he kinda gets it.

• He also took a sea shell and pearls that's under the sea, a perfectly shaped one too, he also bought some chain for the necklace, and he started to make a sea shell necklace with one pearl on two sides for you and it's handmade by Neuvillette! Even though he can just buy some or order a custom one, he decided it will be more special if he makes it on his own!

• And he gave it to you as a gift at your Anniversary! And you gave him a otter plushie! It's basically a two otters holding each other, one is a blue and one is a (fav color), he said he will have the (fav color) otter because it represents you and you will have the blue one as it represents him, so whenever the both of you hug or see the otter plushie you both will remember one another. You also made him a handmade gift. (You can decide on what ever you want to give him).

• (A plushie may not actually exist in the original but please give me this one thing 😭😭 it exist to me alright)

• You both also go shopping together when there's no much work to do, like grocery and he will also buy stuff for you even though you told him that he don't have to, but he did anyways.

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Please do not copy, translate, repost to any other social media platforms, Thank you

[sonicasura]

Based on the asks by @foolmariofest, I figured why not share my view of a Pokemon/Kaiju No.8 crossover. Any spoiler related material(last two episodes) will be found at the end past the read more tag!Let's start with the teams before I get into meat of this post!

I decided to choose Miraidon as the Ride Pokemon for this while the Egg Pokemon are Goomy, Milcery and Tyrunt. Treecko will evolve eventually to Sceptile but they are the latest catch in Trainer's team. Goomy will evolve into the Hisuian varient of Goodra. Now let's get started.

Trainer doesn't know who their real parents are. For most of their life, they were raised by migratory Bird Pokemon alongside their starter(Torchic/Quaxly). A kind-hearted stranger in Galar would later introduce them into society when Trainer's was about 5. PokeSpeak was their main language before then.

Kafka is planning to draw up adoption papers. All of him pretty much adopted Trainer mentally and emotionally so why not? The Monster Sweepers already sent him some research on how to adopt unregistered children.

Amongst the Battle Frontier, Trainer's gym is the most difficult to win against. Their badge has three variations as they have two other people to help manage the place. Bronze and Silver are the most common badge earned while the Ideals Badge is the least.

A Legendary/Mythical/Ultra Beast magnet. Due to Trainer's more open minded nature towards wild Pokemon, it isn't uncommon for rarer ones to seek their company without concern of possible capture. Any who do join are either willingly or captured for their safety(Eternatus). Best to watch out for Ultra Wormholes in case of spontaneous visits.

Trainer tends to travel out of curiosity and a penchant to learn. Something that eventually leads them to the KN8verse. It isn't uncommon for Trainer to offer their new friends a chance to explore their world on the group's days off.

Reno and Kikoru often join training sessions with the young Frontier Brain. They aren't as intense like Kafka's but does put them through the ringer. All of them use inspiration from these experiences during missions or Defense Force training.

Berry mishaps are a given especially around lunch time. Kafka once took a bite out of a Tamato Berry in human form. Apparently he can only safely eat it as a Kaiju or else has to deal with swollen lips from the spiciness. Pecha and Oran Berries are popular with the group.

Making Pokemon treats is unavoidable. Poffins, Pokepuffs, Pokeblocks and the like. Kafka is the type to eat them as they are apparently very delicious to Kaiju. Same goes for Dynamax Honey, Dynamax Mushrooms, and Gigantamax Curry. (In Ai's opinion anyway.)

Picnics and picnic related shenanigans will always happen. You can say it was quite the sight for the Defense Force once Trainer officially joins them. They make sure the beach ball doesn't go into the curry or sandwiches.

Before Riot No.8 could attack Isao Shinomiya, Trainer teleports in with help from their Pokemon. They use the song Oración to calm down the enraged kaiju who lovingly nuzzles them and reassures he's still here before collapsing from exhaustion of the forced transformation. In righteous anger, Trainer challenges Isao Shinomiya to a battle for Kafka's safety.

The Commander is humbled by their Hariyama and is forced to listen to the youth. Kafka later receives this very news once he wakes up again. Even footage of the battle was shared and recorded to him.

[translucent-at-best]

Scatter-brained...

I be stuck on that water challenge tag like I was stuck on that bussit tag a while ago. I fully get why men be so mesmerized. I really do.

Stepping on an elevator smelling good only to be told how good I smell by the other people on it never gets old. A Black woman told me I smelled "diiiii-viiiiine" yesterday. She wasn't wrong 😌

I'm tired of being so far away from my family and not being able to do anything about it when somebody dies. I'm tired of my family dying. I'm tired of grieving and no one around me knowing and having to keep working and showing up like I'm not. I'm just tired.

The amount of Black men who will exclaim "Protect Black Women" but at the same time pretend they have no earthly idea who we need protection from is wild. Is it all men? No. Is it always men? You know good and gotdamn well. Stop deflecting and start calling your homeboys out.

I've never experimented with a hairstyle and not liked it. It's been relaxed, natural, big chopped, braided, twisted, dyed, curled, and cut. And here I go, being cute as the fuck every single time. The nerve of me.

Somebody I know wrote and self-published a book, which is a huge accomplishment. I finished that book a couple days ago. Still haven't told them. It's... pretty bad. I need to figure out some way to not lie, but also not say that it's good and... I'm struggling. And I'm also mad at the editors (plural) that were paid to make sure it didn't end up looking exactly like it ended up looking. Just plot holes and spelling and grammar errors galore. I shudder to think about what it must've looked like before the edits.

I had two friends over the other day and since I'm still balling on a budget due to this upcoming move, I cooked for us instead of ordering food. Made a big pot of pasta and just knew I'd have leftovers to pack for lunch for a few days. One. I had one day of leftovers. Them niggas had multiple helpings and took food home. I'm glad and flattered that they loved it so much, but shit.

These past few days have been teaching me... I'm a counselor wherever I go. Whether it's my job title or not. it's just who I am. It shows up in my conversations and dealings with people all the time. Not in the sense that I take on an expert role and tell them how they should live their lives, but in the sense that... I'm very good at making others feel comfortable around me. Comfortable to the point of telling me all their business. It's not something I ask for, it's not something I set out to do, but it happens. Often.

Now that I'm a month out from my last retwist and my roots are getting fuzzy, I'm noticing a lot more gray hairs than I remember having. I'm used to seeing a good two or three, but the other day I counted at least 10 of them bitches on one side of my head alone! I'm not mad at it, but it did surprise me.

I'm proud as fuck of my credit score. Saying that out loud feels like bragging, but this is my page, so... 🤷🏾‍♀️ Me and my roommate applied for an apartment we want and the score they came back with for me? Shiiiiiiit I'm out here lol.

Coco Gauff said, "Debt? I don't know her. I didn't go to college so I don't have student bills and my parents never put me in a position to have debt." What an iconic answer. Love that for her lol.

[sexybabystevie]

Hi! I'm rather new to your channel because I saw your Steve x sarcastic reader HCs and I absolutely LOVED them they were so, so good and you're extremely talented at making HCs and I wanted to add my own into the mix as well.

Rose 🌹 – Red roses symbolize romance, love, and courage. Send me a short description of yourself, including things you enjoy doing, and your desired character to receive a headcanon on how they would confess their feelings to you!

My desired character is going to be a little bit tricky because I have two ST loves of my life but because you just did a Steve one I think I'm going to pick Eddie.

So hi! I'm a little bit more of a socially awkward type, I tend to be really introverted but once you get to know me I'm insanely sunshine-y and happy. I tend to really love reading books especially Stephen King or fantasy novels, Lord Of The Rings has been a huge part of my life since I was in middle school and my parents finally deemed me old enough to watch the live action films with them. I also am obsessed with film, I love rewatching the same movies over and over again. I love studying film, my parents have this running joke where I can figure out the plot of any show and for the most part be right on the money every single time *they're always like wtf are you magical or something every time it happens*. I'm also utterly in love with musical theater cast albums as well and could probably talk for hours endlessly about my favorite ones. My music taste is a really intense mesh of 80's pop, rock, and metal music as of recently. It was actually due to Eddie that I explored metal music and found affection for it in the first place.

Thank you for listening! I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with

A/n: Thank you so much for the kind words!! I'm so happy you liked my other headcanons! <3 I have to say that this is the first time I'm writing for Eddie, so I hope that I do his character justice! (And that you enjoy!) And, I’m also so sorry this took so long! You caught me right between the time that I was in the process of moving to and starting college, so things have been pretty hectic since then! Thank you so much for your patience!

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Song of Sunshine

Eddie Munson x Sunshine!Reader

Tags and Warnings: No Warnings, Soft!Eddie Munson, Friends to Lovers, Headcanons, Sunshine!Reader, Implied Love Confessions, Pure Fluff, Dorky!Eddie Munson.

Word Count: 3010

He hadn’t meant to, but Eddie Munson had been eyeing you for a while; you were someone of great mystery to him. He was familiar with almost every face in Hawkins High, having dealt with some of them for far too many excruciatingly long years, and yet yours is one that’s on his mind more often as of late. He’s been scanning the lunchroom on the daily, keeping his eyes out for any new recruits for Hellfire, and something in his gut keeps pointing him in your direction, his gaze always lingering a little longer on you than at any of the others. 

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s tired of seeing the same painfully mundane, averagely boring kids each and every day – none of them really having that spark, that potential that he’s been searching for – so he’s almost giddy when he sees you sitting alone at a lunch table, nose buried between the pages of The Lord of the Rings. Instantly his mind is ringing, thoughts scattering because he feels like you’re a light at the end of the tunnel – someone with the kind of creativity and interests that would fit in perfectly with Hellfire – and as much as he wants to rush up to you to ask if you’ll join his club, he’s still a little hesitant. There’s an almost shy nature about you, bashful and timid like a wild bunny, and while he finds it endearing, he also is aware enough that he shouldn't startle you and disrupt your peace. 

So, instead, he waits. He waits for probably too long, because it’s been about a week and you’ve moved on from The Lord of the Rings and are now reading Stephen King’s Pet Sematary. He thinks it’s certainly an interesting choice – despite his somewhat intimidating style of dress, he certainly isn’t one that handles horror easily. Especially horror novels; he only half paid any attention to a short story that one of his teachers read aloud in one of his many English classes, and he was so disturbed that he nearly didn’t sleep for days afterward. Hell, he can’t lie, there have been D&D sessions that he’s been to that he’s nearly pissed his pants over. To say that his imagination is overactive – so active that reading anything remotely grotesque has him shuddering and feeling nauseous – would be an understatement. Movies, he can somewhat handle, what’s shown on screen is tame compared to what he could conjure with his mind, but anything even mildly scary in book form is a no-go. 

That’s part of the reason that he stalls again, face scrunched up in thought as he look intently at you. Something about you has him feeling sheepish; all he can seem to do is marvel and wonder about you from afar. He knows the younger members of Hellfire – Mike, Lucas, and Dustin – have noticed his thoughtfully awkward glances, meaning his time before they undeniably make some witty comments is running thin. He knows he needs to say something before someone catches him staring and wrongfully assumes he’s being a creep like half of the guys in Hawkins High tend to be, but he feels frozen in time, a wistful statue caught in a moment of hesitance.

He’s so preoccupied with his thoughts that he barely registers the bell ringing and the horde of students that meander along to their next class. He’s not fully aware of his surroundings as he stands and takes his plastic tray over to the garbage can, and he’s definitely not on planet Earth as he accidentally steps on the back of his own shoe, sending him pummeling right into the back of someone who seems oddly familiar. Someone who he thinks he should be able to instantly recognize, someone whose mere outline is something he should have engrained into his mind, and all too quickly they’re turning their head and he gets a glimpse of the cover art for Pet Sematary and – oh, shit. It’s you.

This isn’t how he expected to introduce himself to you, with his hands grasping at your shoulders and his face inches away from the back of your neck as he tries not to tumble the two of you into the disgusting cafeteria floor, and he feels both like laughing and cursing himself for his inattentiveness. At the sight of you, however – wide, nervous eyes and bashful smile – Eddie’s completely drawing a blank. You’re looking at him with polite inquisition, questioning and uncertain but in a gentle manner, and he can’t even begin to imagine what’s on your mind. He has a reputation that precedes him; school-proclaimed ‘Freak,’ a thought that almost has him cringing. Normally, when he’s in his element – talking with his friends, managing the Hellfire Club, playing D&D – he doesn’t care less about what some pretentious teenagers think of him, but right now, he can’t deny the rush of anxiety that hits him like a wave on the beach. He’s been thinking of this moment for days, of how to talk to you so that you think he’s cool, and messing it up feels close to that same kind of humiliation that he vowed to throw away when kids relentlessly teased him for being different in the early years of middle school. 

Still, he trusts you and your awesome and somewhat intimidating taste in novels, and he must really be caught on the idea of that because he’s suddenly blurting out, “I wouldn’t have ever pinned you as the type for horror.”

He immediately feels regret – who is he to try and say something about your personality? He’s barely been aware of your existence prior to this week and God, he feels really stupid, until your soft voice breaks through to him.

“And you’re not?” It’s quiet in the chaos of the lunchroom, shrouded in shyness but also holds hints of something else, something more familiar. Something he’s used to hearing from his friends, that’s kind and a little playful, and then he realizes that you’re not only trying to make friendly conversation – you’re giving him a chance! – but you’re also attempting a little joke. Albeit, it is a tad awkward with the tone you’re using, but he doesn’t mind at all. He actually thinks it’s quite cute, although he doesn’t spend too much time reeling on that thought.

“Definitely not,” he says, and he finds himself shocked as how easily he’s telling the truth. Most people he knows would have lied, either to have more of something to relate to or to create a false sense of self, but he doesn’t feel the need to. There’s a kindness, a curiosity in your eyes that has him wondering if you’ve been stealing glances at him for days like he has. “I’m more of the adventure-fantasy type guy.”

The words have barely fell from his lips and you’ve already got a low-burning fire behind your eyes, the excitement that he previously saw secondhand now coming forward. He smiles softly to himself; the spark.

“Really?” you ask, voice a little louder, more incredulous. The rays of passion peek behind the clouds of your timidity, and it’s obvious that you find it hard to bite back an agape expression. 

“Yeah!” Eddie exclaims, as if his answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. “The only time I ever really cared enough to show for English class was when we read The Lord of the Rings.” 

His words are like gasoline, setting your already simmering demeanor aflame, the former introversion suddenly thrown out the window. Your features are bright, eyes glittering with interest. A bright smile overtakes you, covering you like a thinly veiled blanket, and you look so surprised and enthusiastic that you’re standing on your tip toes, bouncing softly on the pads of your feet. Your exhilaration is highly contagious, worse than the time Hawkins closed down the schools a few years ago because over half of the student population had the flu, and Eddie doesn’t fight the way his mouth automatically widens its grin to match yours. As if he could, anyway.

You trudge back to class together, replying to one another with elevated voices that earn a few annoyed glances from your teachers, and while neither of you are even aware of it in the moment, this is the start of something new, unbidden as a rose petal among the concrete, but not unwelcome. When Eddie finally gathers up his courage and asks you if you’ll tag along at the next Hellfire meeting – as a bystander so you can decide if you want to really join in and start making your character next week during your lunch break – you say yes with a smile sweet as honey, and just like that, your futures have been interwoven.

As Eddie expects, your “tryout,” as the younger children of Hellfire have so intelligently deemed it, goes amazingly. You’re already forming a character and their backstory, spewing intricate details to him as he drives you home. He doesn’t even have to ask if you’re coming to their meeting next Saturday; the gleam in your eyes already answered his silent question the moment that the group continued their game. You hadn’t even had all of the context and you were still watching in awe, shoes excitedly tapping against the floor as you “watched the magic happen,” as Eddie said. He wasn’t wrong; your creative and wandering mind easily was captivated the second that he began recalling where exactly the players had left off last time. 

You show to Saturday’s meeting, and the following Saturday’s, and you even go to Mike Wheeler’s dusty basement – which everyone made sure to let you know wasn’t mandatory – to retrieve some old character sheets on an early Monday morning during your autumn break. Even Mike, the kid whose house they were digging through, complained about having to get up to help find his own precious pages, but you hopped right into Eddie’s van without hesitation or resistance, only thing carried with you being a sleepy grin. 

Turns out, you make an interesting addition to their group. Your enthusiasm and cheeriness – regardless of the situation – is unmatched, and the contrast between the group before and after you’ve arrived is grand. You always shout out unique suggestions, make references to your favorite novels and movies, and you never fail at being a carrier for glee. One small gasp of excitement from you is all it takes for your energy to bleed through to everyone else; some of the other members, like Mike and occasionally Dustin, feign mock annoyance at how easily everyone is swayed by you, but it never seems genuine. If it ever verges too close to hurtful territory, Eddie shoots them a harsh glare as a warning and they back off, which you always find amusing. You know that, out of the two of you, Eddie’s the least likely to hurt even a caterpillar. 

It’s not long before the two of you are spending insane amounts of time together, including outside of school and Hellfire. Sometimes he comes over to your place and you sit outside together, toes in the soft grass as you catch each other up on everything going on in your lives – not that there’s ever that much you have to fill him in on; you’re practically attached at the hip when you can be. Other times you hang out in your living room, rewatching some of your favorite films while raiding your snack cabinet. Some of Eddie’s favorite moments are these; when he’s sitting next you, arm lazily rest upon the back of the couch, close enough to you that you can feel the warmth of his skin without touching, and he can watch you vividly talk about your analysis of specific scenes in the films. Witnessing your raw, glowing passion has his chest swelling with admiration.

On the weekends when conflicting schedules cancel Hellfire meetings – which isn’t often, as being present and an active participant are Eddie’s most valued expectations – you frequent an old, run-down theatre in downtown Hawkins together. The tickets are cheap, there are rarely any other viewers, and the employees there either have a preference for older films or they can’t afford to purchase many from this decade. Regardless, it’s always a good time. With no one else around to tell you to be quiet, you’re giggling at Eddie’s cheesy jokes and making a few of your own. 

There’s this one thing you can do – he calls it your “Wicked Movie Vision” – and it blows his mind every time it happens. You have this infallible ability to predict the plotlines, and the outcomes of said plotlines, of any movie you see. You insist that it’s not that difficult, that it’s only a matter of understanding popular tropes and knowing what to look for in the subtext, but it never fails to leave him in gaping awe. He likes to brag about it to the rest of your friend group, and he’s ever-persistent about how cool it is, despite their often lackluster attitudes towards it.

One Friday afternoon, when neither of you had any other plans, Eddie surprisingly called you on on the phone and sounded a bit more nervous than usual. It was barely there, a twinge of awkwardness, but was still noticeable to your observant ears. 

“Hey, it’s your favorite leader of Hellfire,” he greets, drawing out the syllables in his first and last words, making you laugh. You neglect to mention that he’s technically the only leader of Hellfire; you let him have his little moments. “So uh, I know you don’t have anything planned tonight since we talked about it yesterday... Do you wanna come over? I can pick you up and we can hang out for a while?”

You have the feeling that he’s holding back some words; something tells you that he has some other reason for inviting you over, but you still smile and nod, verbally expressing your agreement when you realize that you’re not, in fact, currently visible to your friend. 

Eddie comes to pick you up as usual, despite you saying that you’re fine with walking the short distance between your houses, and you start to feel a tad bit nervous. You don’t typically visit Eddie’s house often – your place is the usual hangout spot for you two – and you’re a little worried you might do something silly or disrespectful on accident. 

Of course, you have nothing to worry about. The two of you talk excitedly in the car just like usual, and Eddie admits that he wants to show you something that he wrote for his band. You’ve been to a few Corroded Coffin practices, forever cheering him on in the audience, and it’s actually due to him that your music taste started developing more towards the kinds of songs that he likes and creates. You’ve never said it outright, but you enjoy the music a lot more just because it reminds you so much of him.

When you walk into Eddie’s trailer and take a tentative seat on an extra chair, watching as he leaves the room and mutters on about something to do with his guitar, you can’t help but notice that the smidge of tension from before is back. You’re starting to wonder if something may be wrong, but you don’t have much time to reel on it before he’s returning with his beloved instrument.

“You ready?” he asks, ghost of anxiety within his upturned smirk. You nod, and his fingers begin to strum at his guitar strings.

The melody starts out a little slow, almost tentative, but then it picks up and you can tell that’s where a beat drop from the drums would typically be. Everything shifts, and the tempo speeds up and becomes more intense. He’s closing his eyes as he plays, feet tapping and head bobbing, and you can tell that he’s really put his heart and soul into this song. 

It’s over almost too quickly, leaving you wishing that you could somehow have a mixtape made of only that song repeated so that you could listen to it forever, and your closest friend is looking to you, silently waiting for your reaction. The hesitancy in his eyes fades away when you beam at him and go on and on about how much you loved it, recalling specific moments that really struck you as your favorite, and, as it’s sure to do, your admiration and eagerness pass unto him. 

He’s so touched, so utterly appreciative and happy that you liked it so much, that he doesn’t stop himself from admitting, “I wrote it when I was thinking about you.”

You’re stunned into silence, never having expected that such a masterpiece was written in your honor. Quite truthfully, no one else had ever done something so intimate for you before, and that certainly didn’t help with your overwhelmed quietude. You’re caught up in your thoughts, wondering exactly what he means by that because you certainly know what it sounds like, and the soft blush across his cheekbones seems to answer your question for itself.

You subconsciously scoot closer to him, knee softly knocking against his, and your hand reaches out to rest upon his forearm almost on its own accord. His arm is warm against your palm, shirt atop his skin soft and thin, and his eyes shoot over to yours in pleasant surprise. 

“Will you play it for me again?” you ask, toothy smile gleaming up at him, and who is he to deny you? Truthfully, he couldn’t say no to you even if he wanted to. 

With a goofy, almost timid smile, and an almost whispering of “’Course I will,” Eddie Munson’s fingers pluck the first few notes of the song that he wrote as he was falling in love with you.

[redpandaramblings]

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 6

Part 1 Here

Next part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

Before Bakugou could reply, the jeweler came back into the room and handed Denki a piece of paper.

“All right sir, here is your receipt! Your ring should be ready in three days.”

“Thanks.” Denki shoved the receipt into his pocket, quickly making his way to the door. “See you around Bakubro. Don't want to be late for my shift.” The door closed behind him with a bang.

Bakugou wasn’t annoyed though. Now he could pick out the perfect ring for Y/N and not worry about Kaminari being nearby. Everyone knows Kami can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep all of this a secret.” Denki moaned into his hands. He was sitting with his head buried in his arms. Y/N reached across the table and gently petted his hair.

“I know what you mean, but I don’t think either of us are in a good position to start telling people.”

Y/n and Denki sat in a secluded corner of a dimly lit cafe. Both of them had this time free and both of them definitely needed to talk. They stood a lot less chance of anyone asking questions if they were just two friends getting lunch instead of them privately going to each other’s apartments.

Denki looked up, giving Y/N a wide eyed expression. “I know, but I wasn’t expecting Bakugou to show up when I was dropping off that abomination of a ring! I just was lucky the jeweler had already taken it to the back. You were right by the way, that thing is absolutely horrendous. Like, was the designer blind?”

Y/N snorted. “From what I’ve heard, great great grandpappy had a lot more money than brains and wanted to impress his omega by shoving as many stones onto a ring as possible.”

“No kidding. I think it can be seen from space.”

“Very likely.” Y/N chuckled before slumping back into her seat with a sigh. “Though I might have an idea about what Bakugou was doing there.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Y/N nodded with a sigh. “Yeah. When I got back he invited me to the summer festival. I’d forgotten about it.”

“Ah shit, yeah. Isn’t that your guys' anniversary?”

“Yep.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Of course he had to pick this time to actually celebrate. We haven’t gone or done anything… God, I think since he became a hero.”

“So you think he was getting a gift.” Denki sat back as the server came, placing your orders in front of each of you. You both murmured your thank yous and waited until the server was out of earshot before resuming your conversation.

“Yeah, he had to have been. Makes me feel terrible, but there wasn’t a good time to… Well…”

Y/n gestured between herself and Denki.

“Tell him that you’ve been betrothed to an omega of much superior looks, breeding, and manners?”

You gave Denki a little kick under the table as he cackled. He grinned cheekily as he poked at his food. “Sorry. Humor is my coping mechanism. I get it though. Timing sucks all the way around.”

You nodded, sighing and taking a bite of your own food. “Can’t say anything during his heat. Then his schedule was swamped, and I had to sort things out with you. Then bam, anniversary that for some reason he decided to remember this year.”

Denki snorted, popping a bite into his mouth. “That’s about the long and the short of it. And we haven’t even begun to figure out how to tell everyone we’ve not only accepted arranged betrothals, but that we’re engaged to each other.”

“I don’t know, I was kind of hoping we could just move to Tahiti and never speak to our former friend groups ever again?”

“A valid possibility. But that means we’d have to learn French and maybe Tahitian. You know I only passed English because Hitoshi and his dad coached me.”

“Fair point.” You sighed heavily. “But I’m really not looking forward to these conversations.”

“They have to happen though. You might have some anonymity to hide behind, but I’d rather my friends not find out about our engagement when they see an article about Chargebolt getting married.”

“Really?” You smirked slightly. “Then you’re going to tell everyone at your agency, hmm?”

Denki kicked you under the table. “Shut up!”

You poked at your food again as the smile fell from your lips. “So… Did you get a chance to think about what I sent you?”

Kaminari nodded. “Yeah. And I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“I thought about it a lot. I hate to leave the area, but it would be too awkward to stay here after everything.”

A few days ago you had sent Denki an email with a list of places that had job openings that would suit both of you. You both loved where you lived, but after everything, how could you stay? There’s no way the two of you could continue to keep living in the same apartment building as Bakugou. That would be cruel. Cruel to whom you didn’t quite want to think about. You spoke up again.

“Any place catch your eye?”

Kaminari nodded. “I was kind of thinking Okinawa. I have a few connections there. Decent distance from here and from our parents. And that would probably be the easiest transition.”

“Works for me.” You said, as if it wasn’t ripping your heart out to do this. It hurt. But it had to happen. In the end, you had to believe this was what was best for everyone. It might take some time, but this was it. This was what would make everyone happy in the long run.

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

Shinsou was worried. Denki had been acting odd. And that’s saying something. The blond omega was usually loud and bubbly, the life of the agency. At least once a week, he invited Shinsou out for drinks, meals, clubs, karaoke, or some other nonsense. But ever since he’d gotten back from his three day leave, Kaminari had been acting strange. When he thought no one was looking, he was quiet. Withdrawn. Like he was puzzling out the toughest problem of his life.

Denki having a problem? Pretty typical. Denki having a problem and not talking to Shinsou about it? Pretty unusual. The blond had always come to the purple haired alpha with even the simplest of problems. Apartment searches, furniture assembly, what support items would suit his quirk best, even things like what to get from Starbucks. And even though he might groan and roll his eyes, secretly Hitoshi loved every second of it. When he had helped by digging through websites, cobbling together a rickety shelf, or reminding Denki that he always got the most cloyingly sweet items on the menu; Hitoshi got to pretend that he was Denki’s alpha.

Shinsou wasn’t sure exactly when he had fallen in love with Denki. Probably had been since high school at least. His dad had warned him against loud blonds while his father had laughed. But he couldn’t help it. Kaminari had been one of the first people to enthusiastically believe in him. Had always sought him out and wormed his way into Shinsou’s life and heart. And now Shinsou couldn’t understand it, but Denki was pulling away. Even as he watched the blond who was typing up a report on his computer, it somehow felt like Kaminari was slipping right through his fingers.

Shinsou cleared his throat. Kaminari glanced up. “Yeah man? What’s up?”

“You doing okay, Denks? You’ve seemed a little out of it.”

Denki met his eyes, startled, then quickly glanced away. “Yeah. Yep! Totally fine.”

“Denki. I know you.”

Kaminari sighed and slumped on his desk. “Just some life stuff. Family stuff. Friend stuff.”

Shinsou frowned, walking over to place a hand on Denki’s shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Denki snorted and laughed quietly. Shinsou furrowed his brows.

“Yeah” Denki sighed. “I know. But half of it isn’t really my stuff to tell and the other half isn’t exactly worth talking about.”

“You sure? We could go grab one of your obnoxiously sweet coffees after work. Go to mine or yours, watch an old crappy horror.”

“Tempting. Thanks man. I would, really, but I got some stuff I have to do after work. Some other time maybe.”

Shinsou frowned. It was rare for the omega to turn down an invitation for a movie night. Hell, it was rare for Denki to turn down an invitation, end stop. It made him even more worried about his omega… friend. His omega friend. His friend who just so happens to be an omega. Hitoshi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to ruin the best friendship he had. But he couldn’t keep this up much longer. His alpha had decided on the electric blond long ago, and the omega’s unusual behavior and unhappy scent was driving him wild with the need to protect. He really needed to pull himself together and confess soon.

“Well, whenever you’re free then,” Shinsou said, reluctantly letting his hand fall from Denki’s shoulder. “You know my number.”

Denki nodded and looked up, giving him half a smile. “I do. Thanks Shinsou.”

Shinsou walked back to his desk, his mind made up. He needed to tell his omega how he felt, and soon.

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

Y/N twisted and turned, looking at herself in the mirror. It had been a very long time since she’d worn a yukata. It didn’t feel right to dress up like this. But wearing anything else also felt wrong. Everything about this date felt wrong. Like this was the kind of she she did in another life. And now here she was, going on a date with the man she loved. Who she’d always love. And who she’d already decided she was going to let go.

Y/N snorted and fussed with her hair a bit. Maybe she should have just refused this date. Claimed to be sick or something. But that felt wrong too. So, she just had to get through tonight. After all, what’s one more night of pretending everything is fine? Hopefully this could be a good memory from a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be. After tonight, she’d wait a couple days and then talk to Bakugou and let him go like he clearly wanted.

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

Katsuki was going to throw up.

He was going to throw up, right here, all over himself and all over shitty hair, too. His red headed friend was giving him a pep talk as he helped Bakugou into his jinbei. Not that Bakugou needed the help. Or the pep talk. It just was easier to let the squad come over when they had found out about his date. It’s not like he wanted them there or anything. Once Kiri, Mina, and Sero realized he was going to use this date to ask Y/N to be his mate, they had insisted on helping him get ready.

None of them knew about the little velvet box in his pocket and that his plans went further than just asking Y/N to be his mate. Bakugou bit his lip to keep from frowning as he looked over his friends, a certain loud blond conspicuously missing. You wouldn’t hear Katsuki admit it out loud, but he really wished Denki could have been here. He loved the others, and they were great in their own ways. But Denki was his pack’s other omega. He got it in a way that the others didn’t. After tonight, he’d have to make sure to catch Pikachu up on all the news. Hell, maybe he could help his fellow blond finally talk to that purple haired idiot he’d been mooning over for years. Everyone in the pack knew Denki’s family had been harping at him to settle down for quite a while.

Bakugou looked up in time to see Mina coming at him with the hair grease. He threw up his hands.

“Fuck no! Keep that shit away from me!”

“You’ve got to do something about that pile of straw you call a haircut. Besides, Wouldn’t it be nostalgic? Weren’t you interning for Best Jeanist again when you asked Y/N out the first time?”

“Yes, and I’d rather shave myself bald than ever have my hair like that again!”

Mina sighed. “Fine. We’ll do something else. But if I can’t slick it back, you will be wearing eyeliner!”

“IN YOUR DREAMS, PINKY!”

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

You waited outside the entrance to the festival. It was strangely soothing to watch the people flow by, like you were a rock overlooking a stream. There were groups of friends, couples both young and old, families where the laughing children ran ahead of their parents eager to get inside. You gave a small smile at the last. Maybe that could be you someday, a parent getting to see a festival through the eyes of a child again. Though the mental picture was hazier than it used to be. The children you half imagined just blurs of colorful yukatas, instead of loud and stubborn blond haired brats with their father’s eyes and attitude. You huffed a quiet laugh to yourself as a thought occurred to you. If you and Kaminari actually went through with this plan, decent chance the kids would still be blond. The thought hurt a little.

“Y/N!”

You looked up and had the breath knocked out of your lungs.

Katsuki was beautiful. You knew it. Thought it often, even. But tonight he practically glowed. His hair had been tamed into a softer look than usual. The jinbei he wore was the perfect compliment to his skintone. Was that… Yes. Dark eyeliner made his crimson eyes pop. Your heart ached. You’d always love this man. No matter how it tore you apart, he’d always own part of your heart and soul. You smiled weakly and raised your hand in greeting.

���Hey. You look good.”

“Thanks.” Bakugou scratched the back of his head. “Mina got ahold of me.”

“That explains it then.”

“Hey!” Katsuki gently elbowed you in the side before taking his place next to you. “You saying I can’t dress up on my own?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N!” You dodged out of the way as he swatted at you, laughing. Yes. This could be it. One last good night.

“Shall we go in?” You asked, holding out your hand.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Katsuki asked as he walked past you, ignoring your hand.

You gave a quiet smile as you followed.

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

Katsuki picked at his food, none of it making it to his mouth. He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick right here and some paparazzi was going to see and take a picture and the big headline tomorrow was going to be “A Puke Worthy Proposal.” He was trying his best to keep up the illusion that everything was fine and normal, but it was rough. It had been a long time since he’d taken his alpha on even a normal date. And this wasn’t any normal date. It didn’t help that things were feeling forced and awkward.

He wanted to hold your hand, but his own hands were sweating buckets. He tried to keep up casual conversation, but that was getting harder and harder as the night wore on. Every sentence he wanted to just blurt it out and get it over with. It was impossible to keep talking about what vendors he recognized when all he wanted to say was “I love you and I’ll always love you and I want you by my side until the sun stops shining.”

It didn’t help that things felt awkward. Almost nothing was feeling easy or natural. It really had been far too long since the two of you had gone on any sort of date. He frowned as he thought about it. It had been over a year, at least. Longer, even. Well, he was going to have to fix that. He’d be able to use some of that pro hero paycheck and spoil you like you deserved. His Y/N. His mate. And soon, his wife.

Bakugou stared at nothing, his eyes going unfocus as he started daydreaming about how spectacular your wedding would be.

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

This was a disaster. You glanced over to where Bakugou stood picking at his food, looking bored. You’d been trying to keep up the conversation, but for the past several minutes you’d only gotten hums or grunts in response to anything you said.

“It’s amazing how they got all those pro heroes to dance nude as one of the main attractions this year.”

Katsuki grunted.

Yeah, he wasn’t paying attention at all.

You sighed, looking down at your own untouched food. You never should have agreed to come. At least this date was proving it to you. This had to end. The two of you didn’t know how to be a couple anymore. It was even clearer that Katsuki wasn’t even interested in trying. You had no idea why he wanted to have this date in the first place. Some bizarre sense of obligation? Maybe his heat had shaken him up enough that his omega needed the sense of normalcy? This issue was this wasn’t normal for the two of you anymore. It hadn’t been for a very long time. You sighed, glancing around for a trash can to oust you untouched dango.

A loud pop caused you to look up. The fireworks were about to start.

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

Bakugou looked up at the sound of the first firework.

“Wanna head to the pier?”

You nodded quietly, following him as he led the way. He was sweating so much now that if he set himself off he’d take out half the city.

This was it. It was almost time. The two of you were going to watch the fireworks from the out of the way pier like you had all those years ago. It was at the end of that fireworks show the two of you had had your first kiss. And this time… Well this time at the end of the show he was going to propose and you were going to say yes, and it was going to be perfect.

That is if he didn’t barf before you two got there.

“Hurry up,” he grunted as he picked up the pace.

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

You tried not to flinch at Bakugou’s harsh tone. He clearly wanted to get this night over with even more than you did. You tried not to let it hurt.

The pier was empty as it always was. The lack of lighting keeping others away. The first time you had discovered it, it had felt hidden and intimate. Now it felt desolate. Lonely.

You walked up to the railing and stared at the sky. The fireworks didn’t feel magical anymore either. Your fingers wrapped around the railing as you glanced to the side. Bakugou wasn’t even looking up. He was staring at the reflections of flashes in the dark swirling water below.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

And that was Part 6, my darlings! Hope you're enjoying the drama, because there's more angst on the way! You can scream at me about the cliffhanger in replies, reblogs, tags or asks. :P

TAGLIST- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @luajosephdun-blog, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness, @lonelyheart-clubband, @katsuki-cait, @moonwritters26, @animexholic, @kyrah-williams, @emilymikado, @wolvesblaxe360, @ficklemcselfish, @helena-way07, @fandomsaremylifesposts, @baby-bakuhoe, @sukeraa, l@ucypevensie11, @idk-sam, @katsuki-cait, @weirdestlove, @sasa-slayer, @anime-for-live, @kaidousimp, @bluesdustyflames, @vitheria, @milktea0208, @maristaymulti, @whatdidshesayyy, @memesbyeloise , @fandomsgotmefucked, @killmehe, @shy-panda02 Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I’d have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!

[gauri-vishalakshi]

Finding My Way To You

Part Five

(previous part: Part 4.5)

There are some days that seem so inordinately peaceful, until suddenly they're not. Your day had gone relatively well after Ram had tied your blouse, taken a shower of his own and left for another day of work about town. Akhtar hadn't shown up today and while you were bored out of your mind without the thrilling excursions you were now accustomed to, you had made yourself busy around the little apartment, reading and eating some delicious biryani Akhtar's ammi jaan had brought for you. You hadn't been worried when Ram hadn't stopped by for lunch. He rarely did, preferring to eat at Akhtar's house or somewhere on his way since the home the two of you shared was a bit far from where he was investigating. You hadn't been too worried when he didn't come home for dinner, assuming Akhtar would show up soon to let you know he'd be home late. But when the clock chimed eleven times in a row and you had seen neither Akhtar nor Ram, you had started fretting.

You had lost your parents on a night like this, rainy and gloomy as you waited patiently for them at home with your older sister. You had waited and waited, the clock ticking as time passed, hour by hour. They had never returned. A few years later, you lost your sister in a massive British shootout in your native village when you were eight years old. She had taken you away from the two-braided friend you were playing with, whom you referred to as Situ, and stashed you in the hut the two of you shared, tearfully promising to return. And yet again, you waited. Waited by holding onto a shred of hope that you'd see your sister's smile again, hear her playfully reprimand you as you ran away with a jalebi, cackling gleefully as she chased you. She never came. You had developed an irrational fear, a phobia, an aversion for waiting for people, for you had come to understand they never do return.

Despite the comforting words you spoke to yourself, all your previously restrained fear that came bubbling up to the surface reformed into a sigh of relief as Akhtar burst through the door. That very sigh quickly turned into a mounting sense of fear as you saw the limp body of your husband in his arms. "Akhtar! What happened to Ram?" You cried out as you wheeled yourself toward the two men as Akhtar eased Ram onto the bed. You listened, rapt with wonder yet horrified because of your knowledge of Ram's actual profession, as Akhtar-no, Bheem reintroduced himself to the two of you. As Bheem turned to leave, you saw Ram weakly attempting to gesture to him. Regardless of your attempts to prevent Bheem from leaving, he hastily left to go the party and rescue Malli. You moved to the side of the bed and held a barely conscious Ram's hand, sobbing for what you knew he'd have to do. You drifted off to sleep, enveloped in nightmares with the sight of bloody tears and the sound of bonds breaking inevitably and irreversibly.

You were woken by a scream followed by the thud of a fist hitting a punching bag. You wheeled yourself into the side room Ram kept his workout equipment in, only to see your husband having a breakdown, tears of rage and frustration flowing down his face. “Ram.” You approached him as cautiously as one would a wounded animal. “Ram.” You attempted again. He looked up, eyes wild as they found yours. “No. No. Please don’t let me love you.” What? You were confused to the core. What did he mean?

Ram continued at your silence. “Don’t let me love you, Y/N. Everyone I love gets hurt. By me. Every time I fall in love with someone, I damn them to pain and misery. Amma, Nana, Sita, Babai and now Ak-Bheem. I would rather kill myself than hurt you, Y/N. Please, I’m begging you, stay away from this monster.” Tears of confusion and pain filled your eyes as you tried to make sense of Ram’s words. “I want to love you, Y/N, but I can’t. Not unless I want to get you killed. I took an unforgivable risk by falling blindly, madly in love with you. Please, never forgive me for hurting you. Push me away, as far as you can. That’s the best thing you can do for both of us.” Wiping his eyes furiously, Ram made to walk out the door, stopping abruptly as you reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Ram, please tell me you won’t go through with this. Please tell me you won’t betray your best friend for some title. Please help me believe in you.” He shook his head, pulling his hand out of your grasp. “And what if I don’t want you to believe in me? What if I know I’ll do nothing but destroy and disappoint? I’m not meant to be happy, Y/N, and neither are those I hold dear. Don’t believe in me. Forget me, hate me, and I’ll know you love me back.”

With those conflicting words, Ram, no longer your husband but Officer Alluri Ramaraju walked out the door, both of you ruefully aware of the other’s paining, yearning heart.

A/N: Part 5 is out! @manwalaage @lil-stark@thewinchestergirl1208@contemporarykafka@aurora2238@maraudersfansassemble @itsfookingloosah @rambheem-is-real@adrakchutneyofficial @darlingletshurttonight@seherie@redirection04 @ramayantika@how-is-it-in-london@crystalchrysalis19 @cainiyor @chaanv

[jimblejamblewritings]

snakes & bets | part 4.

Summary: Social outcast suddenly makes friends? And those friends are Hogwarts’ most notorious pranksters? Despite being entirely suspicious, Y/N doesn’t question any motives. The world can’t possibly come crashing down around her…

Warnings: This whole story is angsty, hurt/comfort, smut, will end in fluff but goes through all the other stuff first.

Pairing: Marauders x black!reader, eventual Sirius Black x black!reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

Sirius woke up first, followed by Peter then James. Remus always took the longest after Moony Night. The others got dressed and brushed their teeth while they waited for their friend to slowly come to life. Sirius spotted the food first. He picked up a piece of bacon.

“No one’s ever brought up food before. That’s nice.”

“Who do you think did it?” Peter asked as he grabbed some breakfast for himself.

The boys all shrugged. They went through their list of friends, contemplating which one was nice enough to do something like that for them. James came downstairs with a bread roll still in his hand, the other marauders not far behind him. They felt pretty confident in their conclusion when they came to one. The plate of food was decorated with flowers, a lily resting on top of the bread roll mountain. They thought it was fairly obvious. James held up the little limp flower.  

“Lily,” he called into the common room, making the redhead turn around. “Thanks for the breakfast.”

“Don’t thank me, thank your puppy.”

The four of them frowned for a moment. They rolled their eyes before heading to class. Not sharing most classes with you was a blessing. They only had Charms, Astronomy, and Muggle Studies. They also realized that they actually did share Transfiguration with you— it was just that you always sat at the very front in the corner so they never noticed.

But Transfiguration was second to last that day. So, they only had to see you at the end of the day for that class as well as Charms. Their day was a blissful one without you. Peter suggested eating lunch outside since the weather would soon be way too cold to do so. The other three agreed with him, grabbing their food and making their way out of the Great Hall.

You were laying down near one of the big trees, body completely hidden by it. You were waiting on a parcel from your parents with a refill of your contact lenses so you were in your glasses. The school’s garden gnomes were outlining your body with a bunch of wild flowers, occasionally stopping to hold out their little grubby hands for a piece of the bread that you were eating.

The marauders noticed you too late to turn around. You called out their name with excitement and they trudged over to you. They sat a distance away from you to the point that it almost looked like they weren’t even sitting with you. You shooed away the gnomes so you seemed less strange. The boys watched the gnomes run off wearing tiny pink hats that you clearly made for them. You sat up and scooted closer to them.

They didn’t say anything but kept eating. Sirius leaned away when you tried to stick a flower in his hair, Peter doing the same when you turned to him. You ended up picking the flowers out of your hair. Normally, you kept them in but everyone tended to point and talk about them. You didn’t really get it because flower crowns were in but apparently random flowers didn’t seem to be a trend.

“We missed the last game but my cousin said they’re playing again on Thursday.”

“What?” Peter asked.

“Last week,” you reminded him. “Our family has box seats whenever the Holyhead Harpies play at home. Mary thought we were coming to the last game but I told her something came up. She said they’re playing home again which is awesome because they didn’t have another home match scheduled for a month.”

James choked on his drink. “Box seats? Box seats at a Holyhead Harpies game?”

“Yeah, she said she needed to know now so she could write to Slughorn and McGona—”

“Oh, we’re going!” James declared.

You smiled. “Yeah? Awesome, we have to leave before lunch but we can eat with the team. Ooh, you can wear the sweatshirts!”

“Sweatsh— uh, yeah, yeah, of course.” James quickly covered his own tracks.

You reached into your bag to check your pocket watch. The marauders watched you get up quickly, saying you were going to be late to Potions. You ran off, tripping over your own two feet but managing to stay upright. They snorted as you hit the wall by accident. James turned to the group.

“What fucking sweatshirts?”

Peter shrugged. “Just say we got them dirty or something, didn’t have time to wash them.”

“Sounds good.”

That was the exact excuse they gave you when you met them at the front entrance of the school. You didn’t mind because that meant they wore your present enough to have to wash them. The marauders looked in surprise when a carriage showed up. They were used to James being the richest person they knew. You just shrugged as you ushered them inside.

The Zabini family probably had more money than the Potters even after splitting the inheritance amongst siblings. Your dad wouldn’t have even made it into the family coming from an average muggle-born background if it wasn’t for the fact that he was brilliant at Charms. But thanks to the Zabinis, your parents worked because they wanted to not because they had to.

The carriage sped away with the five of you in it. You jumped out when you got to the stadium, yelling for your cousin. Mary— along with the rest of the team— turned around. You gave her the biggest hug, having not seen her since summer. All of the Zabini cousins were extremely close and they all watched over you since you were the baby of the family.

“You made it,” Mary said, cheerfully.

You nodded like a bobblehead before running over to where the marauders awkwardly stood. Sirius and James flinched when you went to reach for their hands until they remembered that there was company. You pulled them along, Peter and Remus following, so they were standing in front of the team.

“These are my friends,” you said. “James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius.”

Mary shook everyone’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

The team led you all to your seats. The boys were surrounded by Mary’s teammates while she walked ahead with you. Mary threw her arm around your shoulder.

“I’m glad you made friends.”

“Me too. We went to the Halloween dance together.”

“You went to a dance?”

You nodded. “I had fun.”

“Did you go to an afterparty? I remember Ravenclaw used to throw the best ones.”

“We went to their dorm.”

Mary paused and looked at you. “See, when someone says they skipped an afterparty to go to someone’s dorm that usually means…”

You nodded, making your cousin gasp. She looked behind her at the four boys and playfully shoved your shoulder.

“(Y/N)! Which one?”

“All of them,” you whispered.

Mary pulled you ahead even more to gossip before reaching your seats. You told her that you were just friends with them but she was still excited. Like with your parents, the fact that you were starting to make connections at Hogwarts was more exciting to her than you. She left the five of you after making sure everyone was comfortable.

While everyone was enjoying the game, no one was as into it as you and James. Every now and then, Sirius kept looking at you cheer for the Holyhead Harpies. You had a nice smile. He abruptly went back to looking at the game after thinking that. Sirius felt like he was going to be sick even thinking such a thing. He refused to make eye contact with you for the rest of the game and on the way back to Hogwarts.

For once, the marauders gave you a genuine thank you before leaving to head back to their dorm. You awkwardly stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment. You kind of thought that you were going to go with them and hang out after the game but they said they were tired. The boys wanted to add to their map. They were almost completely done with it, just a few corridors left.

“Did you guys see where I put the Invisibility Cloak?” James asked, head buried in his trunk.

Remus chuckled. “Mate, I told you to fold it up and put it in your trunk.”

“Okay, well I was tired, Moony. Don’t be an ass and help me look or we can’t go.”

All four of them began searching their entire dorm. Sirius got down on the floor to look under the beds. He saw the patterned cloth under Peter’s bed, pulling it out and throwing it in James’ direction. He was about to get up when he saw a bundle of bright red fabric. Sirius grabbed it. He dropped the fabrics on his bed. Remus came over and picked one of them up.

“I guess these were the jumpers she was talking about? When did she even do this?”

Peter and James walked over to look at their own sweatshirts. They poked and prodded at them, tracing over their embroidered names.

“Your last game,” Sirius mentioned. “I guess she already finished them… they’re kind of nice.”

Peter laughed. “Well, they better be. All she does is play with yarn all damn day.”

They left the sweatshirts and began to explore the grounds. The marauders barely said hello to you at breakfast the next day. Remus had done the calculations. They earned enough money based off of the bets they did that they didn’t feel the need to go for the little stuff. Now, they were trying to get you to leave them alone. After the quidditch match and the bets, you were useless to them. Even your family being rich didn’t matter when they had the Potters. They figured if they started to ignore you, you would probably leave them by Christmas break. After the New Year, they’d be free of you.

You mimicked their quietness at breakfast. They almost didn’t notice you were there once again as you kept silent and just followed them around. None of them attempted to speak to you either. Even in Astronomy they asked other people if they needed help instead of asking you despite the fact that you were right next to them.

Your hands felt heavy holding up your telescope. This was just one of those days that you couldn’t stay up to watch the stars. Letting your eyes close, your head dropped onto Peter’s shoulder. He pushed your head off of him. You were too tired to notice, staying asleep but now on the floor of the Astronomy Tower. The professor dismissed the class with passes since Astronomy got out two hours after curfew. Everyone left. The marauders got into their beds when Remus looked around.

“Shit, I left my jacket up at the tower.”

Sirius chuckled. “Why do you even bring one if you don’t need it?”

“If I don’t, someone might figure it out.”

“Moons, no one’s going to think you’re a werewolf cause you don’t bring a jacket to Astronomy. Just go to bed, I’ll get it for you before breakfast.”

“Thanks.”

“You can thank me by doing my Charms essay.”

Remus rolled his eyes, knowing his friend was joking. Sirius slipped out before curfew ended right at the break of dawn. The house elves would start cleaning soon and he didn’t feel like tracking them all down to find Remus’ jacket. He climbed the tower steps two at a time. He tugged on his own robe, shivering as he got higher up.

Sirius stopped when he saw you curled up on the floor. He could hear your teeth chattering. Spotting Remus’ jacket, he stepped over you to grab it. Sirius looked down at you once more. He bent down and shook your shoulder, roughly. You woke up, wiping at your face as you sat up.

“How much of the lesson did I miss?” you asked in mild panic.

The raven-haired boy blinked. “Did you sleep here all night?”

“All ni— oh, it’s morning. I guess I did.” You sneezed.  “And someone took my blanket.”

“Blanket?”

“Yeah, I get cold easily. The jacket isn’t enough.” You sneezed again. “I should probably go to Madame Pomfrey before I get too sick.”

You got up, shivering at the cold morning air. Sirius surprised himself by following you to the Hospital Wing. He listened to Madame Pomfrey scold you for continuing to take Astronomy when you constantly got sick in the winter from being left in the tower after class if you accidentally fell asleep.

The marauder frowned a bit. He didn’t think it was necessary for someone to steal your blanket. One day, you might actually freeze to death if it kept happening. Maybe they also could have paid enough attention to at least wake you up. He left when Madame Pomfrey kicked him out, stating that you’d be there all day.

Sirius shook his head when he left the Hospital Wing. He wasn’t even sure why he went down with you. That was a lie. He knew exactly why and it made him a mix of scared and disgusted. There was no way he was developing a crush on you. He was going to need to find Marlene like he did the last time those thoughts popped up. The other marauders looked at him as he handed Remus his jacket before sitting down for breakfast.

“What took you so long?” Peter asked.

“(Y/N) w—”

“Talked you to death about crochet in the corridor?”

“No, she was in the tower. Everyone left her.”

They all laughed except Sirius. He stabbed his fork into his eggs.

“It’s not that funny.”

“What?” James looked at his friend.

“I don’t know, I don’t think her freezing to death is funny.”

“You fuck the little freak twice and now you feel like you need to defend her?”

“I just think we could back off of her a bit.”

James blinked, realizing that Sirius wasn’t joking. He held up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, not funny… is this about her falling asleep or her in general?”

Sirius sighed, throwing his fork down. “I think I like the little freak.”

Whatever conversation that the marauders were having was abandoned. They were completely focused on Sirius, trying to figure out when he started being into you. The more they talked, the more Sirius kept finding little reasons to be into you. James huffed out a laugh.

“Well, glad we finished what we wanted to with the bet.”

Remus nodded. “I don’t think fucking Pads’ girl would end very well, you’re really territorial.”

Sirius glared at him. “She’s not my girl.”

“Please, you ask her out and she’s saying yes in a heartbeat.”

“I’m not asking her out. I don’t want to date her.”

The other three boys nodded in mock understanding. “Ah, yes, you just like her and want to shag her up and down the corridors.”

He scoffed. “She barely turns me on, this’ll go away in a minute.”

“Barely?” James asked. “That sounds like a step up from not at all, doesn’t it, Wormtail?”

“Sure does. Moony, didn’t he say last time that she didn’t get him hard at all?”

“Yep, you barely wanted to touch her. Was it because she’s weird or because you were ready to tear her clothes off?”  

They laughed as their friend growled at them before getting up, tugging on Marlene’s wrist to take her with him. Sirius was determined to get over you. It worked momentarily. The minute Marlene left and you came out of the Hospital Wing, he was right back to square one.

He put himself in between you and James when it was time for Astronomy. Despite the class being only two days out of the week because of how late the class was, you only managed to stay up half the time. With a stuffy nose and a slight headache, you just couldn’t keep up this week. Sirius suddenly felt the weight of your head on his shoulder.

James, Remus, and Peter waited to see what he would do. He poked at your cheek. He poked a little harder when you didn’t stir. Sirius didn’t want to push you off of him but couldn’t take this. You woke up, eyes fluttering open. The other three marauders kept pushing each other as they tried not to laugh at the tinge of pink that suddenly appeared on Sirius’ cheeks when you looked up at him, still with your head on his shoulder.

“You fell asleep,” he said, eyes flicking down towards your lips for a moment.

“Thank you,” you said.

Sirius’ breath hitched in his throat. It was the same sleepy, whiny voice you had when they hooked up with you. He shook his head and went back to paying attention to the lesson.

Every now and then, Sirius looked over to make sure you were still awake. He was aware that he was slowly giving up. James, Peter, and Remus already came to that conclusion earlier. What the hell Padfoot saw in you? They weren’t sure. Sure, Sirius said that all those little acts of kindness worked away at him. They could understand him not finding you annoying. But nice deeds didn’t make someone hot. Did he not see you with the glasses?

When they got back to their room after class, Remus had gladly risked being punched in the face to make the joke that your pussy must have had some type of grip to make Sirius infatuated with you. Instead of punching him, Sirius chucked a pillow at his friend’s face. He fell asleep with a scowl and woke up the same way. The marauders howled in laughter when he confessed that you were in one of his dreams.

Sirius left early with James for his quidditch match so he wouldn’t have to run into you. Usually, you showed up at their dorm a few minutes before the game to walk with them. He couldn’t see you right now. If he did, he would lose all resolve completely. Part of him wanted to yell at you, make you cry so you would leave them alone and he could get over whatever weird crush he felt. He knew that he never would.

It started with the stupid sweatshirts and then the food then the Harpies’ game. You did little things for people just because you thought it would make them happy. Even when it wasn’t reciprocated. Deep down he found that kind of sweet. It was after seeing you half-frozen in the Astronomy Tower that he let his feelings come to the surface. He knew what it was like to feel abandoned by his family at a really vulnerable time in his life. It really stung him that he— and everyone else— did the same to you.

What made it worse was you still saw a good in people that he had long abandoned. He would never be so friendly with people that he didn’t know very well. But you thought you were friends with them and in a matter of days began to do little things for them.

He laughed at himself as he sat down in the stands. He liked you. He liked you and decided that there was nothing wrong with that. Sirius actively made a small space for you to sit next to him when you eventually show up with the others to the game.

You waited till after all the students started heading to the quidditch pitch to leave your room. With the quidditch game between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, you had the boys’ dorm to yourself. You were going to go support James in a minute but you wanted to do something first. Normally, you wouldn’t go behind anyone’s back but this felt sensitive in the way that Remus’ werewolf night felt sensitive. They wouldn’t notice if you nicked their map for half a day.

You just wanted to use it to see if there was a way to sneak to Hogsmeade without Filch noticing. If anyone knew, it would be the marauders. You would simply take the map, go to Hogsmeade as a trial while everyone was distracted, come back and return it. No one had to know you borrowed the map and you never had to worry about Filch catching you attempting to leave campus in the middle of the week again. All the good threads were always gone when the weekend came and new shipments came in on Wednesday.

You carefully crept into the boys’ room in case they were still there. Finding it empty, you strolled in. Last time you saw the map you were pretty sure it was in James’ trunk. You found a lot of things that weren’t the map. Moving on, you closed James’ trunk and went to another one. Four trunks later and the map was nowhere to be found. You pursed your lips in thought. Maybe they were doing something with it earlier? It was probably in someone’s bag.

You sat next to Sirius’ bag on his bed and went through it as gently as possible. You finally found some folded up parchment. Opening it up, you got comfortable so you could memorize the map. You frowned when a bunch of words greeted you instead of a diagram of the castle grounds. Your name caught your eye before you were about to fold up the parchment and put it back.

“Talk to (Y/N) for ten minutes,” you read. “One sickle.”

Your stomach twisted when you saw a little check mark and your roommates’ names next to the task. Half of your brain screamed at you to put the paper back while another half said to keep reading. Your eyes glazed over as you read the list. A lot of different names were on there, along with prices.

You felt stupid as you kept reading. You didn’t suddenly make friends like you and McGonagall talked about. You were a game. For some reason this year they decided to make a spectacle of you for their twisted entertainment. The marauders’ names were written down more than once. You sniffled as you shoved the list back where you found it.

It was beyond humiliating that they were all in on the joke but you. You didn’t know who made it and didn’t really care. They could have left you alone. You would have preferred that rather than being turned into a bet. You weren’t even sure why they would do such a thing. Would they even give you a reason when you asked? You weren’t sure if you wanted a reason. Not if it was going to make you feel worse than you already did.

There was nothing that killed self esteem more than learning that your friends only slept with you because it earned them five galleons. More technically but you didn’t want to add up the money on each individual act. Your feet began to move towards the quidditch pitch even though you wanted to go hide in your room. You had friends. Your heart kept screaming at you that you had friends. Even if they were fake, they were friends and you didn’t want them to leave you because you knew the truth. So you were going to go to the quidditch game and support James like you planned.

You sat down next to Sirius. He immediately split his pumpkin pasty in half and offered you some. He told himself that whatever he felt like doing with you, he was going to. When you shook your head, he gave the other half to Peter. He looked at you again to see some tear stains on your face. Without a second thought, his thumb traced gently over your cheek as he wondered if you were late to the game because you were crying.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “My… my mom just wrote to tell me one of our garden gnomes died.”

“Oh.” Sirius nodded even though he had no clue why that was upsetting but he was trying to understand you better. “Well I’m sure he lived a good life that… pesky gnome…yeah.”

“Mmm hmm,” you muttered and turned to the game.

(Part 5)

[natewriteslol]

Could i get hcs of savanaclaw+octavinelle with an s/o whos a vegetarian? Gn! Please and thank you! 💖

Y/N is gender-neutral

Warnings: none, possibly descriptions of meat and eating? idk sjfkhaks

Leona:

-Decided to collab with the other dorm leaders to take everyone out for dinner

-At first he was reluctant, saying and I quote “Why would I go out to eat with all of you mongrels?”

- “Damn, I already bought a super nice outfit for going out to dinner-”

-“I’m going.”

-You had  just started going out with Leona, and once everyone had gotten their food he wanted to be a gentlemen and give you bits of his food

-and...his food was a medium rare-juicy steak

- “You want a bite?” he asked, the bit of meat on the fork placing it near your face

-“No thanks, I’m actually a vegetarian.”

-Everyone let out a quick chuckle, they couldn’t believe that he was so into you and he didn’t know

-He felt humiliated and it wasn’t even that serious adflshfafsa

-A blush rose to his cheeks

- “Oh...my bad”

-Did Leona just apologize? 

-By the Great Seven this is alot of character development we’re having-

Ruggie:

-It was a meat all you can eat restaraunt and he was so excited for it

-They only have this special once a year! And it would be one of his first dates with you!

-“C’mon dig in Y/N! I filled your plate up for ya!” 

-Ruggie was excitedly stuffing his face and you felt like you were going to be sick

-You had just started dating and Ruggie’s mind was clouded by all his excitement that he forgot that you were vegetarian...

- “Ruggie...”

- “Mhmm?” he asked, his mouth full with meat

-“You do know I’m vegetarian right?”

-Ruggie remembers your birthday, your parent’s names, your friends... but he forgot that you were vegetarian

-He swallowed, “I’m sorry babe, I just completely forgot.”

-You knew he was super excited and you didn’t want to leave Ruggie alone and make him eat by himself

-So you stuck it out and Ruggie quickly ate his full

-And you went to one of your favorite cafe’s in all of Twisted Wonderland, The Brewery 

-The scenery was so calm and beautiful, it was one of the most perfect places to spend the rest of your date

- “Babe, I’m really sorry about forgetting you were vegetarian. But thank you for introducing me to something new, this cafe is killer. Even if there is no meat...” 

-You rolled your eyes at him jokingly, making him laugh “My bad, my bad!”

Jack:

-Before he knew that you were vegetarian he would always offer you a bite of his sandwiches/meat stuff

-Once you tell him that you’re vegetarian, he feels really embarassed

-‘I should’ve put the pieces together, no wonder they never took a bite’

-Always makes sure to accomodate for you whenever you both go out to a restaraunt 

-Brings you vegetarian snacks if you’re out somewhere 

-Starts to grow fresh vegetables for you

-“Here, I grew these for you in the greenhouse. Ah, don’t worry they didn’t take that long  to grow, here take em’.” 

-ajlfajha Jack ilysm

Azul:

-It all started with Azul trying to sell you some food from the Monstro Lounge

-We have the finest of seafood, grand meat specials that will make you go wild!

-Yet...nothing was appetizing to you?!

-Impossible! There must be something that he could whip up that could change your mind

- “Jade. Floyd into the kitchen, and give them ‘The Convincing Special-”

-“Azul, I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.”

-Damn! Azul was so used to being around meat eaters like the abundant Savannaclaw students, that he realized he needed to give better accomidations for those who were vegetarian!

-Oh no, you could possibly think that this means that he doesn’t care about you or your diet!

-Meanwhile you’re just sitting there while he’s overthinking ladfhsjhfs

-You become his new guinea pig, testing out all sorts of delicious vegetarian options 

-His business does well, and you’re happy!

-My, my he is quite the deal-maker, isn’t he?

Jade:

-He’s not the biggest meat eater himself, so he relates to you alot 

-Jade is a very observant person, so he’d already know and wouldn’t forget

-Knows the best spots to hit up for breakfast, lunch and dinner

-Another boy who gets the idea to start gardening! 

-Since he loves nature, he would love to start a little garden in Ramshackle with you

- “I think Ramshackle could use a little more...life, don’t you think dear?” 

-Woo lord Jade pls gimme a chance-

-Your lucky self gets a peak into a Domestic Jade :D

-And he’s very passionate about his hobby for plants, pls be supportive-

Floyd:

-It was when you first started dating

-Talking about his experiences under the sea with his brother...while eating with his mouth open

-I’m sure he was just excited since he hadn’t been there for a long time, but it was grossing you out ajdshljfasdjad

-You tap his chin, “Chew and then speak, love. I can see the meat in your mouth.”

-He gulps, shit! Floyd forgot that meat stuff grosses you out

-He cries about it ajldfhjla-

-”Shrimpy, I’m sorry please forgive me!” He wails in your dorm room.

-“Yes, Floyd, I forgive you. I’ve forgave you multiple times by now-”

-But after a while of you dating, there are little to no slip ups 

-And has no problem that you’re vegetarian

-“Ah! You’re so cute, you’re like a little rabbit~” Floyd says, poking your cheeks softly

-Calls you bunny or rabbit sometimes, swapping out for Shrimpy-chan

[weelittleweasley]

Merry Christmas | Fred x Reader

Prompt requested by @n3ssm0nique: Best friends were all that you and Fred were. Right? Or at least that’s what you thought. But will Christmas at the Burrow change things?

Warnings: literally absolute adorable fluff JFC, Fred being adorable, George being George

Word Count: 5.6k words

A/N: I AM SO PROUD OF THIS FIC IT IS SO FUCKING CUTE My first Fred fic, babeyyy!! Weasley Nation Rise! Just an FYI, we are wholeheartedly pretending that the Burrow didn’t get destroyed for this fic hehe. 

Flashbacks told in italics.

“Thank you for letting me stay with your family for the holiday, Mrs. Weasley,” you graciously tell the woman in the kitchen who hovers over a kettle, brewing you a cup of tea. You sit on a chair in the dining room, keeping quietly to yourself, hands folded in your lap. The sunlight streams in from the window, warming you up, the tip of your nose still chilly from your travels here. The Burrow was still quiet; it was early in the morning when you arrived, expecting everyone to be up, but you should have known better that only Molly Weasley would be up at this hour. Everyone wanted to catch up on their sleep while on holiday from school. 

Mrs. Weasley turned around to offer you the warmest smile, “No need to thank me, dear. You are always welcome in our home. And please, call me Molly.” She pours you a cup of tea in a delicate piece of china that you knew she saved for when guests came in fear that if she used it in her regular rotation of dining wear her children were bound to break it. “Drink up, dear. You must be freezing. The wind is unforgiving this time of year,” she adds, wrapping a blanket around you making you smile at her motherly gesture. 

This year you were spending the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys due to your parents work schedule. They were traveling abroad for work which made you upset that this would be the one year you haven’t spent the holidays together. But when you mentioned in passing that you would be spending the holidays alone this year in passing to George Weasley, he insisted that you would spend it with the Weasleys. You told him that the offer was kind, but you didn’t mind going to your aunt and uncle’s house to spend it with them and your cousins, but George said you would have more fun spending it with his family. Which you knew he was right, so you eventually gave in.

Spending Christmas with the Weasleys also meant more time with Fred which made your heart flutter. You had been best friends with the twins since year three, but you and Fred became especially close in your fourth year. Since then, you two were inseparable. But the more time you spent with Fred, you eventually grew romantic feelings for him. You feared that these new feelings towards Fred would ruin your friendship, so you had kept it all bottled up, knowing that it was best to just stay friends and nothing more. 

As you sipped on your tea, still wrapped up in the blanket Moly gave you, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Molly hovered over the stove again, this time cooking up a large amount of breakfast foods for the many people who would be dining this morning. “Oh, (Y/N)!” Ginny says when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. “I didn’t know you were coming this early,” she skips over to you, giving you a large hug. You had always taken a liking to Ginny and how outspoken she was. You had to be if you were the only girl amongst the Weasley boys. “Fred! George! (Y/N) is here!” Ginny yells up the stairs. “Wait until they see you. They couldn’t shut up about how excited they were for you to get here. Especially Fred,” she tells you with a wink. Ginny knew about your little crush on Fred after she coerced you to tell her after she told you about her crush on Harry. 

After the words fall out of Ginny’s mouth, you hear bumbling and crashing from up the stairs before wild running down the stairs. “Easy, boys!” Molly yells at them while flipping bacon over in the pan. “(Y/N) is not going anywhere! No need to rush,” she laughs at them before looking at you with a smile. Molly knew how much her boys loved you. She shook her head while laughing, continuing to cook up enough sunny side eggs to choke a horse. 

George saw you first and a beaming smile came on his face. “There she is!” he yells as you laughed, scooping you up in the biggest hug, spinning you around. “I’m so glad you’re here!” he exclaims as you wildly giggle. He places you down gently before looking over at his mother, “Merlin’s beard, Mum, the poor girl is in a straitjacket the way you bundled her up.” George helps you get out of the blanket, wrapping it over your shoulders lightly. “Much better, right? Now you can give people a proper hug,” he teases, hugging you once more. 

“Hey, save some for the rest of us,” a voice calls from behind George. You pull away from George and see Fred patiently waiting to give you a warm welcome. When your eyes meet, your heart instantly starts beating faster and a pink hue makes its way up to your cheeks, warming your face instantly. A small smile dances on your lips as Fred gives you a cheeky grin. “Hey, you,” he winks, making his way over to you.

Fred engulfs you in a hug, picking you up and spinning you around similar to George, holding onto you tightly. He puts you down as you beam, hands resting on his shoulders. “Hi, Fred,” you smile up at him, eyes locked on his, allowing yourself to relax under his touch. The joy on his face was evident, his eyes twinkling with happiness and his mouth drawn into a toothy smile.

The two of you just stood there for a moment before George clears his throat, making his presence still known. “Alright, enough of that you two,” he speaks, knowing very well that the two of you had unspoken feelings for the other. George liked using that as leverage against the two of you when he wanted something to go his way. And this holiday, he was going to make sure that the two of you were going to confess those feelings to each other. “We’re glad that you came for the holiday, (Y/N). It’s gonna be wicked time.”

You pull your gaze away from Fred, peeling your hands away from his shoulders, but Fred keeps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug as you smile. This was fine for best friends, right? “I was just telling your mum thank you for having me. I’m excited that I can spend it with my best friends and their family,” you beam as Fred squeezes your shoulders.

“Breakfast!” Molly calls to the rest of the house. With that, you immediately hear footsteps run down the stairs that are unmistakably Ron’s. 

Behind Ron follows Harry, the both of them with major bedhead, still in their pajamas. “When did (Y/N) get here?” Ron asks, raspy with morning voice, rubbing his eyes as he tries to get used to the sunlight.

You shake your head, “Good to see you too, Ronald.” He chuckles as you pull him into a big hug, Ron squeezing you tight. Ron was like your younger brother. He was always pushing your buttons, but in the most playful way possible. “Hey, Potter,” you rustle the other boy’s hair as he laughs, giving you a small hey. 

Everyone gathered around the table, taking a seat and a plate, piling mixed breakfast foods onto it. The sounds of happy munching and forks hitting plates filled the air. Light chatter between siblings and friends ensued as you sat and took in the atmosphere. The Weasleys were always so happy and that’s why you loved the family so much. They always managed to make the best out of whatever situation was thrown at them. No matter how dark times got, they were able to find lightness and laughter. When you first became friends with the twins, you were in a really sad place, always very homesick. But when the twins came into your life, they brought so much joy and hope into your life. Now you can’t help but feel out of place when you are not with them. 

Fred interrupts everyone’s conversations and speaks, “Since (Y/N) is the guest of the house, sorry Harry, you don’t count anymore,” Harry shrugs, “(Y/N) gets to pick what’s on the agenda for today.” Fred sends you a smile and a wink making you lightly chuckle. 

“That seems like a big responsibility,” you say as everyone looks at you. 

But before you can say anything else, Ginny grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair. “I need (Y/N) first to help me with something,” she tells the group. The twins look at her suspiciously, knowing that the youngest sibling was up to something. “It’s girl things. You wouldn’t understand. Right, Mum?” Ginny looks at her mother for support as Molly gives her a thumbs up and wink. “Right then, come on (Y/N),” she drags you to the stairs.

“Ginny, I didn’t even finish breakfast,” you laugh at the girl who has an iron grip on your hand as she pulls up the winding stairs of the Burrow. 

Ginny just looks at you quickly before saying, “Ron can finish your plate. Besides, if you think breakfast was a lot of food, just wait until lunch.” With that, you make it to Ginny’s bedroom as she slams the door behind her. The fourteen year old sits on her bed as you slowly take a seat next to her. “So, are you and Fred gonna get together now that you’re here?” she excitedly ask.

You sigh. You wish it were that simple. “I don’t know, Gin,” you softly smile at her. “Anything can happen, honestly.” Ginny rolls her eyes as you laugh. “Give me your brush. I’ll braid your hair,” you tell her. A bright smile finds it way to her face as she grabs her hairbrush from her desk, handing it to you, turning so her back is facing you. Carefully, you brush out her long ginger hair, pushing it away from her face as Ginny happily sighs. “I’ve always wanted a younger sister,” you tell Ginny honestly. You did feel like Ginny was your sister in an odd, yet comforting way. When you first started hanging out with the twins and Ginny arrived to Hogwarts, she kind of latched herself onto you. At first, you were a little shocked, knowing that Ginny wasn’t like this around most people. But for some reason, she trusted you and you with her. Ginny became your little sister very quickly, always coming to you for advice and guidance when it came to school, boys, and everything in between.

“I always wanted a sister,” Ginny retorts, making you chuckle. “Seriously. It can be so much sometimes with all these boys in the house and it’s just me and mum. It’s always nice when you or Hermione visits. It gives me someone to talk to rather than having to constantly hang out with those bloody idiots,” she rolls her eyes, making you laugh.

From outside the door, you hear a hey! The two of you look at the door as Ginny springs to her feet and opens the door to reveal a Harry and Ron eavesdropping on your conversation. “Get out of here, you stupid gits!” Ginny chases them down the hall as the boys laugh wildly. You laugh at the young girl’s antics before she returns into the bedroom. “Do you see what I have to deal with everyday? Drives me mad.”

Ginny returns to the bed, sitting back down as you start to braid her hair. “Poor you,” you tease. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as you braid her long hair, the ginger hair now perfectly styled and swept back from her face. You pat her shoulders, letting her know she’s done as she takes a look in the mirror, smiling at the results. “Like it?”

“Love it,” she looks at you before coming back to sit next to you. “But anyway, I really do hope that you and Fred get together. You’re perfect for each other. And Merlin, he never shuts up about you. It would just make so much sense if you two were together.”

You knew Ginny was right. Fred and you were a match made. The two of you knew how to have a good laugh, but you balanced each other out. He was always there for you when you needed him most. Fred was everything you wanted. But you feared that he didn’t feel the same in contrast to what everyone told you. The fear of rejection from your best friend was a terrifying thought, so keeping things to yourself seemed like the best option. “We’ll see, Ginny. I’m hopeful,” you brush her cheek.

As you and Ginny sat in her bedroom, what you didn’t know was Fred and George were outside, leaned against the wall, eavesdropping on your conversation much more slyly than Harry and Ron. George bumps Fred in the shoulder with a smile as Fred blushes. This just made holiday much more interesting for everyone.

------

The week has gone nothing, but smoothly. Matches of quidditch in the backyard, playing chess, late night bonfires, and long chats all ensued throughout the week and it just made you sad that the holiday would be coming to a close in the upcoming days. You were having so much fun being around the Weasleys and staying in their home. It felt like home to you in a comforting, yet odd way. It felt like you belonged here. Molly treated you like a daughter and Arthur even forgot that you were going to leave at one point, thinking that you had moved in. 

But in all of the fun, you and Fred hadn’t got a moment alone. You knew that George and Ginny both were anticipating when you two would finally make a move. Hell, everyone in the house was anticipating when you two would do something. But within the week the most intimate thing that happened was you waiting to use the bathroom and Fred getting startled that you were outside waiting, him still wet from the shower, towel tied around his waist. The two of you just stared at the both, bright red blushed on your cheeks. “I didn’t know you were waiting for the bathroom,” Fred had said. “You could have just come in. You know you’re always welcome too,” he said with a wink making you gulp. And with a wink he was gone, leaving you shocked and unable to speak.

Tonight was another bonfire, everyone in the backyard circled around the roaring crackling fire. The flames were the only things illuminating everyone’s faces. You looked around with a smile, enjoying the night. Ginny sat disgruntled and mad at Ron who sat in between her and Harry, Harry also a little pissed that Ron couldn’t take a hit that he would rather be snuggled up to Ginny rather than his best mate. You giggled at the sight, sipping on your hot chocolate as Ginny just glared at you. With her eyes, she gestured for you to git next to Fred would was just a seat over from you. George was too busy telling Ron a story about one of he and Fred’s many adventures when they first got to Hogwarts, Ron completely enthralled. Sit next to him, Ginny mouths to you.

Absolutely not, you mouth back, eyes darting to see if Fred was watching you. He just stared at the fire, legs kicked up resting on a log, his hands behind his head. I’m not gonna make the first move.

Ginny rolls her eyes. Just do it, she mouths before returning her attention to George and his story. You sigh, looking at your almost empty mug of cocoa. You look at Fred longingly, wanted to be cuddled up next to him under the blanket that rests on his lap. You imagined being able to rest your head on his shoulder, his strong arms wrapped around you, protecting you as you felt safer that ever. He’d kiss the top of your head before resting his head on yours, enjoying the way your body melted into his. As you get lost in your imagination, you realize that Fred has caught you staring at him. Your breath hitches in your throat and you blush, unable to look away from him.

Fred chuckles and smiles at you softly watching you as you are curled up in a ball on the chair just a few feet away from him. Your lips were perfectly pink and the tip of your nose a little red from the windchill in the air. The jumper you wore was pulled over your hands as you cradled the mug in your hands. You looked absolutely adorable as a small smile was on your lips. Fred sighed as you giggled a little at him. He just shook his head at you jokingly before dropping his left eye in a wink. 

“I’m gonna go get more cocoa,” you announce to the group, but your eyes don’t leave Fred’s as if you were just directing the statement to him, as if you were telling him to follow you. You rise from your chair and make your way inside. There are small whispers being exchanged behind you that sound like words of encouragement as you smile to yourself before going inside. Shortly after, you hear footsteps follow you inside. As you go into the kitchen and pour yourself more cocoa, you turn your head to see Fred beside you. “Hey, tiger,” you tease him.

He laughs at your nickname for him, “Hey, gorgeous.” Your heart flutters, knowing that he’s been calling you that for years, but now when he says it, it has new meaning to you. “You alright?” he asks.

You nod, happily, turning to face him, ignoring the task you originally came in here for. “More than alright. The week has been lovely,” you tell him as the two of you walk aimlessly around the lower level of the Burrow. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay with you and your family for Christmas. It means the world to me,” you genuinely tell him.

Fred smiles, “Of course. There was no way George and I were gonna let you spend it alone or with some weird family members.” You play with the cuffs of your jumper nervously, a thousand thoughts dancing around in your head about where this conversation was going to go. The two of you come to a halt as Fred speaks, “You mean a lot to me, (Y/N).”

His confession makes your heart speed up. “You mean a lot to me, too, Fred,” you confess to him, looking deep into his eyes. “Truly.”

“I don’t think you quite understand how much you mean to me. You make me feel really happy, (Y/N),” Fred tells you, taking a step closer to him. The two of you were so close that you could hold a magazine between the two of you. You can feel his breath on your cheek as you look up at him, biting your lip gently. “I really don’t know what I would do if we had never met that day at Hogwarts,” he recalls making the two of you chuckle. You remember when you met in the common room, them mid prank on a poor first year student as you had joined in on the prank. From that moment on, Fred was infatuated with you, much to your surprise. “And now we’re on our last year at Hogwarts and I’m just scared that I won’t be able to see you as much as I’d like to.”

Impulsively, you take his hand in yours. “Don’t say that,” you shake your head. “I’ll see you all the time. I’ll make sure of it. I can’t imagine living life without you, Fred, honestly,” you tell him, speaking so raw and genuine from your heart. You wanted to kiss him so badly, comfort him that there was no way he was going to get rid of you. He had you and there was no way that either of you were letting go of the other. You were so deeply connected to other that the notion of losing each other was nauseating. 

Fred smiles gently before looking upward, you following his line of sight. Above you dangles a small bunch of mistletoe. Your heart stops and then starts beating impossibly faster. The both of you look back at each other, a little smile dancing on both of your lips. This was a good excuse as ever to share a kiss, you could just blame it on the mistletoe. “Mistletoe,” Fred breathes out with a light laugh, you joining. “I hate breaking traditions,” he teases you as you laugh. 

“I hate nothing more than breaking a tradition,” you tease back.

Fred looks at your lips and then back at your eyes, waiting for you to do something. Gently you nod as Fred leans in closer and closer. It was like this whole scene was in slow motion as you both lean in, waiting for your lips to collide gently. You couldn’t believe this was finally happening after years of waiting and longing. You were going to kiss Fred Weasley.

“Oh, sorry,” a voice interrupts you both as you jerk away from each other. “I didn’t know I was interrupting something,” you look over to see Ron awkwardly standing in the doorway before darting away back to the group outside as the group yells at him, Ron yelling back he didn’t know in defense.

Fred huffs, “What a bloody moron.” 

The moment was gone. It was over. Your chances of getting that kiss from Fred was gone. You both knew it. The two of you looked at each other sadly as you sighed. You gave him a look that said I wanted you to kiss me. He gives you a sorry look as you just stand there for another moment. “Stupid Ron,” you break the silence, making Fred laugh. 

He pulls you into his side, wrapping an arm around you. “Come on, the fire is still burning,” he tells you, walking outside. “I’m not letting you get away so easily, no matter how much of an idiot Ron is,” he whispers in your ear, making you blush. What a flirt.

As you return to the group, everyone stares at you two as you walk back together. “Nothing to see here,” Fred dismisses them all as Ginny groans loudly. Fred pulls you next to him on the loveseat that was outside, not wanting you away from him now that Ron disturbed your moment. “You really are a moron though, Ron.”

Ron furrows his brows and raises his arm in defense. “What’s going on?!” he says, completely confused. Was the boy really this clueless? 

“Oh, you’re bloody joking,” George says, throwing a pillow at Ron, everyone joining in, hitting Ron with a pillow, everyone erupting with laughter as Ron tries to defend himself. 

Although the moment was ruined between you and Fred, this moment was heartwarming as you all picked on Ron before returning to watching the fire burn out.

-----

Two days later, Christmas morning rolled around and Ginny jumped on top of you waking you up, excitedly. “Merry Christmas, you animal!” Ginny hugs you as you groan, slowly waking up. “Mum made pancakes and there’s presents downstairs! Come on, (Y/N)!” she pulls your hands up and out of bed. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you laugh.

Suddenly, every Weasley is up and down the stairs in seconds as everyone takes their usual seats around the table. Arthur proudly shows off his muggle radio and explains that muggles listen to Christmas music this time of year, him tuning it until pleasant music emits from the small box. Molly plates everyone a large stack of pancakes dosed in maple syrup. You watch as Ginny squeals in excitement, sitting herself down next to Harry as you watch with a smile. 

“Merry Christmas,” George gives you a hug.

You smile at your best friend and squeeze his torso. “Merry Christmas, Georgie.” He rolls his eyes at the nickname you coined for him as you laugh. You see Fred at the bottom of the stairs as he makes his way to you. “Merry Christmas, Fred,” you smile.

Fred pulls you into his chest for a bear hug as you sigh in him. “Merry Christmas, darling,” he whispers into your hair, placing a gentle kiss on the top. You can’t help, but blush at the gesture before the three of you take your seats at the table. “Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast? Merlin, mum, you really pulled out all the stops this year,” Fred teases his mother. 

Molly smiles, “This Christmas is special this year so that warrants a special breakfast.” Molly sends a wink your way as she hands you a plate. “Merry Christmas, darling. Eat up.”

Everyone munches on the delicious plate of breakfast food, complimenting Molly on how extraordinary the meal was. And that’s when the presents start to come out. Molly and Arthur hand out presents to each of their children as the impatiently unwrap them. Each Weasley gets a hand knit sweater with their respective initial on them as you giggle as Ron pulls his over his head. It was absolutely adorable that they all had matching sweaters. “And don’t think we forgot about you two,” Molly speaks as she hands you and Harry boxes.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, Molly,” you tell her as she insists to open it. When you open it, you see a navy sweater with your initial on the front. “Oh, I love it!” you cheer. “Thank you so much,” you beam. You really did love it, immediately pulling it over your head to wear it over your pajama top.

Molly claps as you do so. “Now, you’re officially a Weasley. No need to marry Fred anymore,” she teases as Fred nearly spits out his pumpkin juice. “What?” she asks. “Did I say something wrong?” You just blush a wild shade of crimson that matches Ron’s sweater as Fred excuses himself, making George let out a wild laugh.

As if the timing couldn’t be anymore perfect, an owl flies through the window with a letter in its mouth. Arthur gets up and retrieves the letter from the owl before it flies away. “It’s for you, (Y/N),” he smiles, handing you the envelope.

You furrow your brows, not knowing who it could be from. You rip open the seal of the envelope and peel the letter open which reads:

Dearest (Y/N),

Merry Christmas, darling. We miss you so much. We are so upset that we cannot be with you on your favorite holiday. But rest assured that we will see you soon after our trip comes to a close. We have beautiful gifts for you from the places we visited and we cannot wait to give them to you. Paris is truly the most beautiful place on Earth.

We hope that you are having a grand time with the Weasleys. Give them our love and gratitude for hosting you. 

We are so proud of you and everything you have done at Hogwarts, love. You are truly remarkable. We love you so much and are so excited to be reunited with you soon.

All the love in the world,

Mum and Dad 

XXOO

“It’s from my parents,” you tell the group with a smile as everyone softly smiles. You look at the Polaroid pictures that they attached in the letter. Your parents are smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Louvre. “They’re in Paris. They send their love and gratitude to everyone. They said that they love me and miss me and they’re proud of me...” you trail off as tears start to form in your eyes. A lump starts in your throat and you become very sad and embarrassed at how you are reacting. You just miss your parents so much. “I’m sorry could you excuse me for a moment?” you ask as everyone nods, completely understanding how you feel. 

You rise from the table and move into another room of the house, letting the tears slowly fall from your eyes. You are sure not to make any sounds, too embarrassed that you’re even crying in the first place. Sucking in a shaky breath, you try to collect yourself, squatting low, burying your head in your hands.

As you breathe in and out shakily, you feel a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. “Hey, shhhhh, come here,” Fred’s voice says as he pulls you into him, as you cry into his jumper that his mum made. “It’s alright, darling, it’s alright.” He sits on the floor as you rest next to him, holding onto him tight as if he would leave you. But Fred wasn’t going anywhere. “I know you miss them, but they are right. They’ll be back so soon. You know that they love you and they’re proud of you. What’s not to be proud of? You’re brilliant,” he tells you, rubbing your back in circling, gently comforting you.

Moment pass and you slowly pull away from Fred, looking at his now tear stained sweater. “Oh, man, I’m a mess,” you wipe your tears away as Fred shakes his head, brushing your hair away from your face. “Sorry about your sweater, I can clean it up.”

“I like it better like this,” he says with a smile. You just laugh at him as you sniffle. “I have something for you,” he tells you as you furrow your brows.

He pulls a small box out of his pocket. You sigh, “Fred, I thought we weren’t buying gifts for each other this year. We said we were saving money to go on a trip after graduation.”

Fred shakes his head, “I couldn’t resist.” You slap his arm teasingly. “Open it.”

You slowly open the small box and your eyes widen. Inside is a small golden locket engraved with beautiful detailing. You open the locket and inside is a picture of you and Fred from last year in the common room, laughing on the couch together. The memory brings an instant smile to your face. This was the sweetest, most thoughtful gift anyone has ever bought for you. “Fred, I don’t have any words. This is beautiful,” you tell him.

“You like it?” he asks, nervously.

“Do I like it?” you laugh. “I love it. Thank you so much,” you tell him. “Could you do the clasp?” you ask, turning around and handing him the necklace. Carefully, Fred places it around your neck and clasps the necklace. You hold the locket in your fingers as you smile at him. “Why did you do this?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

Fred nervously gulps. “Because...” he starts. “You know, (Y/N)...like I said the other night...we’re close and I really cannot see myself without you.”

Your heart flutters as you look around only to recognize that you and Fred are in the same spot as you were the other night from the bonfire. Mistletoe dangles above you again and Fred follows the sightline. He stops talking and looks at you. This time no one was going to stop from you from doing this.

In this instant, you lean in and press your lips to Fred’s, connecting you two in a sweet kiss. At first, Fred is a little shocked, but takes no time in kissing you back, his hand cupping your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You hands cup his face as your lips move in sync with each other. His lips taste of syrup and you smile into the kiss. It just felt so right like this was how your first kiss was supposed to go. 

Slowly, you pull away from the kiss, searching his eyes for what he was going to say. But for the first time in forever, Fred is speechless. “I hate breaking traditions,” you tease him, making him chuckle. 

Fred shakes his head and kisses you again, this time more excited and passionate. His arms wrap around you, letting you know that you aren’t going anywhere. You were his now and there was no way he was letting you go. Not like you wanted to. This was home. The kiss is gentle, but loving and passionate. Your heart is beating so fast and your mind is reeling. This felt like a dream. 

You pull away again from the kiss, pressing your forehead against each other. “Just so you know,” Fred speaks, “I was going to kiss you whether there was or wasn’t mistletoe.” You giggle at his antics, knowing that he was telling the truth. “This does mean you’re my girlfriend now, right?” he asks, genuinely asking, making you laugh.

“I hope so, Weasley,” you tell him. “That’s my present to you.”

He jokingly pumps his fist in the air. He places a quick kiss to your lips again. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” he whispers to you.

Smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt, you whisper back, “Merry Christmas, tiger.”

Fred pulls you up from the floor, giving your hands a squeeze. “And now to face the taunting,” he warns you. “Be prepared. But on a brave face. This is just the beginning. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into dating a Weasley.”

The two of you emerge back into the dining room, hand in hand making Ginny cheer and George stand up, clapping. “It’s a bloody Christmas miracle!” he yells, making you laugh as Ron just sits there, absolutely lost at what is going on, mouth full on pancakes. You blush wildly as Fred pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead. “Welcome to the family!” George mockingly yells, embracing you and Fred in a dramatic hug.

In this moment, you have never felt more at home. It was the most wonderful Christmas you had ever had and you couldn’t wait for more.

[maddiwrites]

Secret Lives

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned.

Note: Hi guys! This is my first writing piece. I tried not to do a two parter for my first one but it ended up being so long. Sorry! I would love to hear your feedback so feel free to leave me a message! Part two will be posted soon. Also I have completed a rewrite of the show with a JJ x Routledge sister pairing so keep an eye out for that! Also wanna shout out @skiesofthesketchy​ @malfoyfarms​ @collecting-stories​ because they were some of the first masterlists I read and I loved them and it inspired me to write my own. So thank you!

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Language, angst, very slight mentions of abuse

Part 2

Y/N Y/L/N. That’s you. Or as some like to call you, Hannah Montana. You live the best of both worlds, living it up on Figure Eight and wearing hundred dollar dresses to fancy dinners and parties, sneaking expensive mimosas to brunches with your friends, and getting biweekly mani pedi’s with your sister. Meanwhile, when you’re not rolling around in the luxuries of Kook Life, you’re rolling around in the dirt with your Pogue friends, baking in the sun on a dirty small boat while drinking the cheapest beer one of the boys’ could get their hands on. Most Kooks hated you even when they wanted to be you. And most Pogues didn’t trust you even as they tried getting in your pants.

One of them being JJ Maybank.

Kiara introduced you to her group of friends right after freshman year. The two of you were the black sheep of Kook Academy. Both your families have money, sure. But you weren’t jerks about it. You enjoy a little pampering here and there, but you’re not tone deaf and superficial like the rest of your peers. You were so grateful that your science teacher paired you two together for that year’s science fair. You instantly clicked with the curly brunette and spent most of the class talking about whatever came to mind instead of actually brainstorming project ideas. After working together for months on a science fair project with a shared passion of wanting to help save the environment, Kie finally introduced you to her best friends.

John B and Pope immediately made you feel like one of the group. Sure, they were curious about your life but you never felt like you were being interrogated with questions. They included you on inside jokes and even gave you the nickname ‘Sassy’ after proving to them that you can hold your own in a verbal fight.

Thanks to JJ.

From the start he claimed to never like you. He hated where you were from, who your parents were, and that you never had a job. He hated that you didn’t even have to try to get people to like you. In his eyes, everything was handed to you on silver platter. You had a picture perfect life and all you had to do was bat your eyelashes and show off your pearly white teeth. He couldn’t stand you.

Yet, he was dangerously attracted to you.

He loved the way your hair shined against the setting sun, he loved that you didn’t wear makeup every single day like every other Kook on the island, he loved how your white jean shorts perfectly shaped your curves, and he loved how your temper was as equally as short as his because it made you fighting with him that much hotter.

Last night was no different than every other night with you and your friends. It was quiet, spent around a bonfire in John B’s back yard. You sipped on cheap beer from the can while the smell of JJ’s marijuana smoke wafted through the air. Kie lightly strummed the strings of her ukulele while Pope and JJ bickered about the pros and cons of smoking weed.

This was your family. You had friends on the other side of the island too but you weren’t as close as you were with the Pogues. You would do anything for the people surrounding you. Even JJ. You tried to tell yourself you hated him just as much as he hated you, but you couldn’t help but feel like every other girl on this island, falling for his ocean blue eyes and golden locks. His wit and his charm. His loyalty and protectiveness of his friends. How he looked with his shirt off. How he would wink at you when he caught you staring. You wished you didn’t, but you loved him.

“Hellooo, Y/N?” John B waved his hand in front of your face. You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

John B smirked but didn’t say what he was thinking. He always thought you and JJ were acting dumb when it was clear as day that the two of you were attracted to each other. He always caught you two staring at one another when the other wasn’t looking. You two would always ask about the other person when they weren’t there even if it was just to throw a sharp jab behind their back.

“I asked you what you were up to this weekend.”

“Oh,” You shrugged. “Probably run some errands, babysit my neighbor’s kids...”

Just like Hannah Montana, you also lived a secret life. Your life wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought it was, but you’d never admit to it. Your mother would be crushed, your friends would find you stupid and pathetic, and you would hate yourself even more than you already did.

“Good. Sunday we’re going to check out the surfing competition on Seasill Beach. JJ’s trying to qualify for it next year.”

Your smile immediately dropped. “Sunday. Oh.”

“Already got a spa day planned, Princess?” JJ smirked from across the way.

“I, uh,” You tried your best to fake a grin. “I’m sorry. I can’t go. I already have plans.”

You held you breath as you waited for someone to respond. This was the third time this month you flaked on your friends without a good explanation. You never knew what to tell them, only that you had plans. You were afraid if you said anything else, they’d find out you were lying.

“Again?” Kie stopped playing her ukulele to look at you. “Seriously. Is there some secret boy we should know about or something?”

You scoffed. “No.”

You felt the most guilty lying to Kie. After all she was your best friend. The one you were supposed to be able to share everything with, even the stuff you couldn’t tell your parents.

“Kie’s right. You bailed on us last week last minute too,” Pope said.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your head wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie.

“We all knew this day would come.” JJ’s smirk was gone. He flicked the butt of his joint into the fire and claps off the ash from his hands. “Hannah Montana dips her toes into the wild life. She feels free and independent long enough to decide she’d rather go back to her cookie cutter life and live with all the privilege that daddy has to offer.”

The word ‘daddy’ physically made you flinch. Your eyes narrowed in a tight glare as you dug your fingernails into the palm of your hand, hating that this was the way JJ thought of you.

“J...” John B tried to warn him but JJ didn’t listen.

“No, seriously.” JJ stood up. “I bet the reason she’s not telling us what all her ‘plans’ are is because she knows you’ll all be disappointed. Me? Well, I couldn’t care less whether you hung out with us or not. In fact, I’ve been praying for it. So tell us, Y/N, what are you doing that you won’t tell us? If it’s not some dude, then maybe you decided you’d rather be a Kook. Are you going to fancy lunches and riding yachts across the ocean? Maybe you’re spitting in the faces of the people who work to make your life easier. Maybe -”

“JJ!” Kie yelled.

You stood up, your vision turning red and your skin going hot. Usually you could take JJ’s insults. You were use to JJ throwing your family’s money in your face, trying to make you feel bad for something you can’t control, but this was too much. Because now he was calling you out on your loyalty to your friends. And he was so far from the truth.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” You said. The other three stood up when you took a step in JJ’s direction. John B stood close to you. He didn’t know what you were going to do, but he’s never heard your voice so low and threatening in a long time. The other time was with a Kook who was giving JJ shit. Ironically. “For me to just leave.”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. In fact, because I’m such a nice friends, I’m going to give you some free advice. First, the last thing you want to question me about is my loyalty to the people who’s lives I would put before my own. Second, I would suggest removing that stick up your ass because it seems like your way too uptight to handle it.”

JJ glared at you and didn’t move to respond. A part of you was surprised he didn’t have anything to come back with and the other part of you was relieved.

The thick tension between you and your friends was suffocating. Your night had been effectively ruined by a simple question. But the sad part is, you didn’t even know who to blame. JJ, or the other man causing most of your guilt and grief.

“Y/N/N...” Kie tried stopping you as you gathered your stuff to leave.

“I’m out of here.”

You stormed out of the backyard and into your car. There was only so much you could take until you broke. And you were not going to give JJ Maybank the satisfaction of seeing you break.

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

You couldn’t fall asleep last night. JJ’s words kept replaying in your head like a bad song stuck on replay. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to blame him for not trusting you. But instead, you hated yourself. Because you’re the reason he can’t trust you. Cause you have secrets you don’t want shared.

Your thumb hovered over his contact. Not JJ’s. The man who’s made your life a living hell for the last sixteen years. You wanted to scream and cry and slap him in his face. But instead, you stayed frozen in fear. Like the little pathetic girl he says you are. And you hated yourself more for proving him right.

Your attention was taken away when someone busted through your bedroom door out of breath. Kie immediately went to your drawers and pulled out the first bathing suit she could find and threw it at you.

“Kie -”

“We need to go,” She said. “Get dressed.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Pope and John B ran out of gas doing grocery runs for Heyward. We need to get them with the HMS Pogue.”

“Where’s JJ? Why can’t he help you?”

“He’s working,” Kie said quickly. “Come on.”

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

You and Kie found Heyward’s boat stranded in the middle of the marsh like Kie said it would be. John B and Pope were waiting for you on the back and thanking you both for coming to help. You hold the gas as they helped you onto the boat. They directed you to the tank while they helped Kie.

As soon as you made your way to the front of the boat, you heard the engine of the Pogue rev and take off. You dropped the gasoline gallon and sprinted to the back of the boat where they left you. John B and Pope waved back to you as Kie drove them back to the Chataeu.

“What the hell?” You yelled at them to come back.

“You and JJ need to work your shit out!” John B yelled back to you.

“What...” You mumbled to yourself before you heard the sound of heavy footsteps running towards you. You gasp in surprise when a sweaty JJ passed you to glare at the boat that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

“What the fuck?” He screamed.

“There’s food and blankets in the cabin!” Pope yelled back.

“We’ll come get you in the morning,” Kie said.

You clenched your teeth together with frustration. JJ looked just as pissed off and small part of you was disappointed with that. He turned around, cursing to himself and hitting random shit in his way.

This was going to be a long day.

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

After four hours, you and JJ still hadn’t spoken to each other. He took over the cabin while you laid out on the back of the boat. Your head was running with different thoughts. Should you try to make up with JJ? Should you just continue to ignore him? Should you tell him why you can’t go to the surfing competition tomorrow?

You didn’t know what to do but you knew you couldn’t sit here in silence anymore.

You reluctantly stood in front of him with crossed arms. He was smoking a blunt and looking out into the setting sun. If you were friends, you would take a picture of him right now. The pink sky painted his skin perfectly.

“What?” He said without looking at you.

“Seriously?” You raised one brow. “We’re asked to do one thing on this boat and that’s all you have to say?”

“I’m not sorry for what I said last night.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes. The problem with both of you was that you’re both stubborn. But if the problem with JJ couldn’t be fixed today, you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to put up with his rude remarks and assumptions about you.

“What the hell is your problem?” You said.

“My problem?”

“Yeah. Your problem. You’ve been treating me like shit ever since Kie introduced me to you. What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so goddamn much?”

JJ shook his head in annoyance. “I’m not doing this.”

He got up and walked to the back of the boat where you were sulking not even five minutes ago. You followed him like the stubborn person you were and you continued to grill him.

“I’ve tried so hard to be your friend. I’ve bought you drugs, I’ve even done yours and JB’s laundry. I put in a good word to the tourons who ask about you at boneyard parties. I laugh at your jokes, even when they’re about my friends. I try so hard to be on your good side and you still want nothing to do with me!”

“Because you’re a Kook!”

“So?”

“You have everything. Money, family, friends, a future. I don’t trust you because I don’t know what the hell you want with us. What do we possibly have that you can’t get on Figure Eight? Hm? Are you trying to prove a point to your mom that you don’t need her? You trying to prove to your dad that you’re a tough girl and don’t need his money or protection to keep you safe? Huh?”

“You know what your problem is? You don’t listen! I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t care about any of those things. I hang out with you guys because you are my friends. I have a good time when I’m with you. Why is that so hard for you to get?”

JJ scoffed. “Please. You don’t think I see you constantly checking your cell phone? Making sure no one can see who you’re texting? If we’re such good friends, why won’t you tell us what you’re doing tomorrow? You always have ‘other plans’ and then you never tell us what they are.”

“Because that’s none of your business!”

“If my friends are going to get hurt because of some lying bitch then it is my business!”

You were breathing so heavily, you were basically panting. Your blood felt like it was boiling under your skin and your head felt fuzzy with lack of thoughts. You didn’t know what to say, truly lost for words.

JJ took another step closer to you. You’re so close to him, you can feel his breath on your face and see every mark on his skin. You never knew he had a scar right above his brow or a freckle under his ear. He smelled like weed and sun sunscreen and his breath like mint. Had you not been fired up with rage, you would have thought he looked hot and maybe even made a move.

But now it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I’m sick and tired of you spoiled brats getting everything you want. You’re nothing but a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t even know the kind of privilege she has if it hit her in the face. You can’t relate to anything we have to go through. You don’t have to get dirt underneath your fingernails to make a buck. You don’t have to wonder where your next meal is coming from. You wouldn’t last a week on the Cut because you’ve never known what it’s been like to live the life we do!”

“You don’t know anything about me!” You snapped. The heart in your chest felt like it was being shredded to pieces by a rapid wolf. You felt like you were being torn apart one by one with each insult he threw in your face. Little did he know, he was wrong.

“I know enough to never want to see you again. I will never accept you into our group of friends. Don’t you get that? So you can stop playing the nice girl act around me and go back to Sarah Cameron and the other Kooks that you still hang out with despite knowing everything they’ve done to us. To Kie!”

Bringing up the fight between Kie and Sarah was a low blow and JJ knew it. It was something you always struggled with because you continued to be friends with both of them separately. At first, they were both mad at you but then accepted your friendship when they came around to loving the idea that you would fight for both of them. You tried getting them to talk and make up, but both of them refused. Maybe you should just stick them on a boat in the middle of nowhere and force them to work it out.

Although, clearly your experience with it wasn’t going so well.

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well life’s not fair sweet heart. But you wouldn’t know about that.”

You thought the fight last night was bad. But this one took the icing off the cake. You wished so desperately that Kie had just trapped you both in a locked room, so at least you had the chance to break out and run away from the darkness that was clouding around you.

You were most upset that this was how JJ thought of you. You didn’t know if you would have the same devastating reaction if someone else had said these things to you. You wanted so badly to be friends with the blonde Pogue. You saw the way he interacted with his friends and you wanted to be a part of that small circle so badly, you would almost do anything to be in it.

But you didn’t think you could last another second of being belittled and tormented with JJ’s outspoken feelings towards you. You wished there was a rewind button so you could go back to bed and hopefully never wake up and you’d lock your door so Kie couldn’t break in.

You swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall and admit your defeat. You wanted to find the nearest corner and crawl into it and escape the murderous glare of JJ Maybank. JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because in this moment, you still wanted him. And you were just realizing that you never will.

“You judge me by the surface. You’ve never once tried to get to know me. You don’t ask. You just assume that I’m like every other kid on Figure Eight. You don’t know where I’ve came from. What I’ve been through. What I live with. You don’t know my plans for the future or my hobbies or even my favorite color because you didn’t ask!” Adrenaline pushes through your veins like a wave of energy. You’ve never felt so powerful but so small in your life.

“All right. So tell me,” JJ said. “Tell me whatever story you can think of that will change my mind about you.”

You paused, standing there face to face with someone who will never accept you. You were suddenly overcome with so many emotions you didn’t know which one to choose from. Anger, sorrow, fear, confusion, shame.

You couldn’t believe you even thought about telling JJ your story. A story that you haven’t even told Kie. The story about how you were actually born and raised on the far end of the south side. How your dad use to abuse your mother right in front of you before she managed to escape when you were eight. For six months you lived in her car before she got a job as a housekeeper at a cheap motel used mostly for hookers and their cliental. Her employer let you live rent free if your mom accepted a cheaper pay check. During one of her shifts, your mother ran right into Andrew Y/L/N. No, he wasn’t one of the hooker’s clients. He was actually on the property looking to buy out the place. Even though he was a Kook, he looked through the housekeeper’s uniform into my mom’s heart and loved everything about her. He took her on a couple dates, then less than a year later, married her. You changed your last name to his because you didn’t want any relation to your father anymore. You thought the man was scum and deserved to rot in hell for everything he put your mom through. You hated him and even wished for him to die. Sometimes you even thought about doing it yourself. But then you saw him again. At a gas station in the middle of The Cut. You couldn’t believe he recognized you and you were even more shocked he had the audacity to talk to you. And you listened. He told you how sorry he was. How he never meant to hurt your mom. How he missed his baby girl and wanted to be in her life again. You fell for every word because a part of you you didn’t know existed missed having a biological dad.

That was your biggest mistake.

He didn’t change. He was still the same bastard he was eight years ago, using violence and threats with people much weaker than him to get what he wanted. He loved guilting you with your new luxuries. How you now had everything right under your fingertips after you left him to wither away with nothing. He said you owed him. Because you were his daughter and you were supposed to love him unconditionally. And you fell for it every time. He never hurt you like he hurt your mom. A few slaps here and there but nothing to leave a mark to get your mother questioning.

So now you were trapped - trapped in his world and in his life. Using your own money that you actually worked for, little did JJ know, to pay for his bills, his drugs, and sometimes, even his bail.

You didn’t tell anyone about this secret life because you didn’t want anyone to make you feel any more pathetic and weak than you already felt. And most importantly, you didn’t want to hurt your mother by telling her you’ve been supporting the one person she’s been trying to protect you from.

And you were about to risk that by telling someone who probably still wouldn’t care about you even after hearing what you had to say. You are who you are. If JJ didn’t like you now, he shouldn’t like you after telling him your story, anyway.

“No.” You shook your head.

“No?” JJ scoffed. “I’m finally asking you tell me something and you’re saying no?”

“Because you don’t care, JJ! Not really. You think knowing my sob story is going to get you to like me? I don’t need a pity friendship. I am who I am because of shit I’ve had to overcome. And this is me now. So if you don’t like it, then fine. We’ll do it your way and call it quits.” JJ didn’t say anything as you turned around to find somewhere to pass out in hopes of getting morning to come faster.

You found a blanket deep into the cabin and pulled it over your body, shielding yourself away from the world. You hoped the darkness would sweep through your head so you wouldn’t be plagued with torturous thoughts about your past or what’s going to happen to tomorrow. You cried - you cried because even after JJ ripped into your like a zoo animal, he still hated you.

JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because you didn’t have him.

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

Surprisingly, the sun rose sooner than you expected it to. Sleeping on the swaying boat wasn’t as awful as you thought it was going to be. In fact, it was kind of peaceful with the stars above you and the sound of moving water right under you.

The morning wasn’t so calming. You were slapped in the face with memories of the night before. Your stomach twisted at the thought of being face to face with JJ again. You knew what you had to do and thinking about it made you sick and depressed.

You pushed yourself up and checked the time on the radio. 8:03. Anxiety instantly flooded through you. You only had two hours to get home to be ready in time to run ‘errands’ with your dad.

You looked out to the back of the boat where JJ was looking into the horizon, probably waiting for your friends to come.

Fresh set of tears pricked your eyes at what’s to come. You loved your friends and you even loved JJ. But you couldn’t stay with the Pogues. You didn’t want to make JJ any more uncomfortable than he already was and you were afraid the constant fighting would push your friends further apart. You didn’t want to be the reason for that.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and walked next to JJ. Without a word, you looked out in the same direction he was looking and admired the morning sun.

Surprisingly, JJ was the first one to speak. He looked at you and instantly felt guilty all over again. He tossed and turned all night contemplating on whether he should wake you up to apologize or just wait until morning. He knew he wasn’t being fair. You’ve done nothing but tried to earn his trust since day one. You accepted him for all his flaws and he couldn’t do the same for you. Yeah there was the phone thing and not telling the others what you’re up to, but it wasn’t like you were constantly in his business. If you see him with unexplained bruises, you don’t pester him about it. If he comes back to the Chateau in a pissy mood and blames it on a fight with his dad, you try to make him forget about it with a distraction instead of making him tell you what the fight was about. Why couldn’t he give you the same respect?

Truth was he wasn’t so much worried about his friends getting hurt as he was getting hurt. He liked you more than a friend should which would make your departure from your friends that much more heartbreaking for him. He never felt this way over a girl, let a lone a Kook and he tried so desperately to hate you. But it didn’t work. Instead, it made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He wanted to fix what he broke. He told himself he still had time left. His friends weren’t back yet to get him.

“Listen, Y/N -”

“It’s fine, J,” You sniffled. This time you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks. You tried blinking them away which only made them fall faster. You hated crying in front of people. Your dad always said it was a sign of weakness and you believed him. You wouldn’t be surprised if JJ laughed in your face right now and called you a loser. “It’s done.”

“What are you talking about?”

JJ’s heart physically broke when he saw your tears. He had never seen you cry. Not even out of joy. He couldn’t believe he was the cause of this. That he had made someone as beautiful and as kind as you actually feel bad about herself. He wished he could take back time and start over. He wished he gave her a chance from the beginning. He wished it wasn’t too late.

You both looked up when you heard the engine of the HMS Pogue. In the distance, you could hear your friends laughing and calling out to you, not yet realizing their plan went to shit. You had to make this quick.

“The last thing I want is to get between you and your friends. You don’t have to worry about me hurting anyone, especially Kie. I’ll back off.” You said, making JJ’s brows furrowed in confusion and his heart raced with worry. “I’m giving you what you want. I’ll stay out of your life.”

JJ couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he drove you to do the one thing he actually never wanted you to do. “Wait. You’re leaving?”

You looked JJ in the eyes and he wished you didn’t. Because for the first time, he didn’t see the light behind your eyes or the little crinkle in the corner when you smiled. They were dull and lifeless, making him sick to his stomach.

“I didn’t stutter. Did I?” You used his words from the other night and it felt like a stab in the heart to JJ.

JJ was left speechless which almost never happens. He wished he could say something, anything, to make you feel differently, to tell you he was wrong and sorry. But nothing came out. He could barely breathe.

“Hey you crazy kids,” Kie’s voice pierces the air, jokingly and airy. If only she knew that wasn’t how you were feeling.

“Missing a key or something?” John B joked alongside her.

“You should have called us sooner!” Pope added.

When the boat came closer to yours, they finally got a look at the two of you. They were shocked to see you silently crying and looking like all the life had been sucked out of you. JJ looked mad but they couldn’t tell whether he was mad at you or them or himself.

The three of them went sick with anxiety, suddenly wondering if this was a bad idea. Kie tried to get you make eye contact, but you wouldn’t look at her. You couldn’t look at any of them - afraid you might actually break completely if you did.

“Y/N/N...” Kie said softly.

“You guys okay?” John B asked wearily.

JJ helped Pope tie The Pogue to Heyward’s boat and hopped on right after. Pope traded spots with JJ and came up beside you and stood there awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do either.

You looked up at him before he could come up something probably stupid to ask. “Can you drop me off please?”

Pope glanced back at his friends and nodded. “Uh, sure. John B will probably get you there faster though if you -”

“No, it’s okay,” You said. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle being in an enclosed space with JJ for another minute. You just wanted to go home and forget the past two years ever happened. “I’ll stay here.”

Pope shrugged at his friends when you trudged back into the cabin and curled yourself into the corner. You didn’t know what the next few weeks would be like, but you hoped they go better than the last twenty four hours did.

[yanderesimps]

Destined torture

Yandere Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

(Warnings: Unrequited love, forced relationships, forced intimacy, angst, obsession, soulmates AU)

❁-----------------------------------------------❁

It wasn't easy to avoid the blonde when you're the childhood friend of one of his main targets for bullying. Izuku Midoriya, the boy from across the street with a somewhat concerning all might addiction.

You two met in the park one day, stumbling over as you loomed over the greed haired boy as he played in the sandpit. The two of you had sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, always keeping about a meters distance between yourselves as you eyed each other quietly as shy children do.

Until you mumbled about how you liked his all might action figures and his eyes lit up like the night sky, filled with unimaginable excitement. It had all gone up from there of course but now instead you'd both graduated from harmless kiddies to slightly less harmless adolescents.

That of course meant that you had the pleasure to often have deal with the rampaging temper and relentless bullying of a certain Katsuki Bakugou. That wasn't to say that he'd always be such a brat, only ever giving you the brunt of his lashings when he would spy you with Izuku in the school halls.

For years he mercilessly hassled Izuku and it had only ever gotten worse when your classmates had begun to develop their quirks. Izuku, much to his dismay, had to face the bitter truth that he was indeed quickless.

You were almost afraid that your quick would've widened the divide between you two but it somehow in a weird way brought you two even closer if they was humanly possible. By all means, your quick wasn't flashy and explosive like Bakugou's but it had been noteworthy, nothing that get you into UA but respective nevertheless.

When Bakugou would begin his precise schedule of tormenting Izuku, you were steadfast in defending your best friend much to Bakugou's annoyance.

But when you spied Bakugou in the halls today, you'd expected the worst. Your lips twisted into a blatent frown which could make even Endeavour's fire run cold.

Bakugou approached, his hands shoved into his baggy trouser as he stood in front of you, his delinquent friend thankfully no where to be seen. You two stood in raging silence that seemed to ring louder in your ears that your thoughts of contempt for the boy in front of you.

Pulling a hand out of his trousers, you almost expected a bloody nose but soon found yourself staring at a crinkled envelope. You stared at the letter for a few moments before darting your unimpressed glare back to meet the red pupils that stated right back at you.

"Is this a new tecnique? Come to defeat me through the power of paper cuts?" You tittered, resisting the growing earge to swat the paper from his hand.

The blonde clicked his tongue at your sarcasm, thrusting the letter closer to you. "It's an invitation, dumbass, my birthday is next week and the hag made me give you this since she thinks we're friends or whatever"

"Oh my goodness! Why didn't you just say so? I'll make sure to put this in my files, right in the "remember to burn" section" You sang in fake glee, your mocking joyful expression soon falling back into its usual scowl when in the company of the blonde.

Bakugou's eye seemed to twitch slightly at your works and you could practically smell the caremel scent in the air heating up. Surprising, he didn't even say anything and simply turned on his heel to leave. "Well that was...boring" you said with almost a huff. In the past, making bakugou angry was something you actively avoided like the plague but now? It was nothing more than a fun family activity.

So when you didn't feel the flesh of your cheeks burning from 3rd degree burns it was nothing less than a shock. You could almost felt the bright heavens radiating down upon you. Had katsuki bakugou finally developed an actual personality that didn't involve being a dick?

Of course not.

But that still didn't explain why he was inviting you to a fucking birthday party.

It practically struck you like a brick when you realised what this meant.

Bakugou was now one year older

It was the day that everyone seemed to yern for. The day of the mark. A mark that would tell you the name of your soulmate. A mark that would appear on your 16th birthday.

It was bakugou's birthday.

He was turning 16 in one week.

And all that was just more gloating material.

There were quickless people which was bad enough. If you were quickless, you were seen as weaker, lesser and not normal but having no soul mark? It was practically a death sentence. You were seen as unlovable, unlikeable and unwanted. You were abnormal and disgusting. And ever since a certain blonde had developed a knat for explosions and Izuku hadn't, never having a soulmark was the first bullet in Katsuki's rifle when it came to his conquest of making Izuku's life a living nightmare.

And now for the next few months until your birthday it was all you two were going to hear about.

Heaven's gates swung closed right then and there and the pits of hell threatened to swallow you right there.

"Y/n"

You suddenly snapped out of your inner dialogue to see Deku approaching you with a slightly worried expression. Perhaps you'd been spending too much time standing silently while imagine your future months of torment from bakugou.

You pulled an eneasy grin and rubbed the back of your neck nervously. "No it's fine! Just fine!"

The boys face lit up with his classic smile that made your own heart warm. "great! Wanna get lunch then?" Clasping his arm you nodded with a stark grin. "Let go. I'm starving"

....

...

..

"What's you favorite type of coffin, Izuku?"

_______

There was no amount of pleading that would have gotten you out of this situation, no matter how hard you pleaded to your mother. She didn't even care that your funeral would be expensive.

So now here you were.

In a dress.

Your hair dolled up.

Make-up.

Planning out your 13th reason why.

Standing outside bakugou's home with a present clasped in your hands, the decently loud chatter within taughting you like the drums of War but then again you were practically about to dive into the trenches.

Your numb finger pressed the doorbell, your heart seemed to stutter at the sound of a nearing voice.

"Katsuki! Open your presents later!!" screeched a voice of whom you could only assume was miss Bakugou. The door opened the woman in front of you visable brightened as she glowed down upon you.

"Y/n, what a pleasant surprise, get in here! Katsuki's in the back garden" The woman's mood had practically done a full 180° at a mere glance of your slightly shaky form. "I'll take that, now go in and have fun with the others" She hummed with a wild smile as she took the neatly wrapped present from your sweaty palms. You merely nodded in response, finding that your throat had closed in on itself making it impossible to even swallow down your initial fear.

You could hear the distant cheering, chatting and occasional parent's voice as you walked further into the house, closer to the clear glass slide door that revealed the decoration littered back garden.

There only kids you could see were the possy that would always surround the blonde haired boy, the occasional guy you'd know from class and almost ever girl that would drop to their knees in the hope of katsuki bakugou noticing them.

Most never glanced at you, some glared at you in disgust but one particular pair of red eyes were fixated on you the moment you stepped in the garden.

You nearly cried tears of joy that the make up had taken so long since it seemed you'd actually missed the majority of the festivities. "In and out. This'll all be over soon" You hummed, trying to pathetically console yourself.

You'd made a beeline for the corner with the least amount of people, seating yourself on a lawn chair before quickly pulling out your phone, ideally hoping that you'd allowed to spend the next hour just lazily scrolling through your phone before grabbing a slice of cake and leaving.

Sadly, that wasn't what fate had instore. You looked up from your phone screen as a shadow suddenly loomed over you. "What? Not even gonna give me a happy birthday" Bakugou sneered, glaring down at you. Your own expression twisted into the perfect rendition of what the word "hatred" meant. Your eyes narrowed, your nose crumpled and lips fell into a neat frown. "I'm sure you'll find a way to survive without my half heart congratulations"

The boy above you nearly smiled at your words as he clicked his tounge and sat on the chair next to you. "Not even curious to find out who my soulmate is?" You raised and eyebrow but your expression remained the same. You took a mere glance at his wrist, only to see it covered before returning your gaze. That seemed to satisfy the boy in front of you as his grin widened visably.

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm just praying for the poor soul that is destined to be with you for the rest of their days"

Bakugou just laughed and then left, leaving you in a puddle of confusion. He should've already gotten his soul mark, so why wasn't he parading it around like he did with everything?

You didn't give it another though, returning to your phone for the next while and brushing off the unsettling feeling the crawled up your spine.

__________

It wasn't surprising that they waited for the big reveal after bakugou had blown out his candles. You were just mildly aggrivated that such torture was continously being forced upon you rather than just letting you go home.

Everyone had crowded around the table where the cake sat. You, for some reason, found yourself stood at the corner of the table nearest to bakugou who stood in the center alone as the other surrounded the other sides.

Ms Bakugou had placed a hand on your shoulder and who you looked up to ask her why she was so clingy, she merely silenced you with a toothy smile.

She seemed to be excited about something.

Everyone had begun a countdown as katsuki raised his hand to everyone, lightly gripping his sleeve that hid the name of his future beloved.

You simply joined in hopes that the scene would go by faster, you didn't even look when he pulled down the arm of his jacket. You only notice the silence that followed after.

Then you noticed the eyes burrowed upon you.

The tightening grip on your shoulder.

Bakugou's glare.

How he was lightly smiling.

Then you noticed your first name neatly written into the flesh of his wrist.

The world seemed to slow then it had all soon went by like a blur just like you. Reality seemed to slip away at the seems and all you could do was slightly nod at the voices of congratulations and bright smiles of bakugou's parents. Disoriented, eyes pickled with tears as your dry throat struggled to find words.

Why was Katsuki still smiling?

__________

You'd been branded that day.

"Katsuki's girl"

Always finding a firery arm latched around your waist or shoulders as you were paraded down that halls like a spectacle for the ages.

You weren't allowed to speak to Izuku anymore or any guy for that matter. It wasn't like any of them risked their necks to talk to you anyway ever since Katsuki claimed you, broadcasting his mark like a trophy, a fitting collar that was locked around your neck.

You found yourself seated with the popular girl at every lunch when Katsuki didn't cling to you, people who you once years to be next to and chat with. Now it just felt empty. Empty conversation. Empty smiles. Empty happiness.

You would sometimes catch Izuku's eye in the hallways as a river of words went unsaid between you two. Then katsuki would tell him to "fuck off" before dragging you to class.

Life wasn't fun anymore. It wasn't even livable.

You barely realised how the month passed and your birthday was right around the corner. In fact, it was tomorrow.

"We'll have matching pairs then-? Hey, idiot, you listening to me?"

"Yes, Katsuki"

"good. I would hate to think you were ignoring me again" His palm gripped your chin like a face, tilting your head before he smashed his wet lips to yours. It was clumsy. It made you feel disgusting.

A hand sorely gripped your thigh, snaking up the helm of your school skirt. You didn't even bother to swat him away there days when he got handsy. It just encouraged him more to discipline you.

"I'll make sure to get you a great present, you'll love it" You knew what he meant by that, it made your heart drop and stomach threaten to heave.

Bakugou soon got up to leave with a group of his friends, leaving you to wallow in you own desperation. You glanced at your wrist. Katsuki had been baring down upon it every day to see if there was even an inclination that his name was appearing.

In reality it didn't really matter, it was just gloating privileges for him now, a way of bragging that you two were destined and you would be hs fine piece of ass for life.

You stroked the reddened skin, it had been sore lately.

"please..."

"Please...anyones name...just as long as its not his"

__________

"Come on, Y/n!"

"Show us!"

"Its obvious what it is gonna say"

You didn't even bother to check what your wrist said when you woke up this morning. Katsuki made you promise that you wouldn't and that you would wait for school.

So here you were, seated in the cafeteria with the majority of the class surrounding you a Katsuki. You could practically feel the pride radiating from him right now.

"go ahead, babe, show em"

And so you did, jutting out your arm and revealing the name to all around.

It was silent again. You expected squeals of jealously, congrats and awe.

Silence. It was louder than any sound imaginable at that moment .

You looked up from where your listless glare had fallen onto your lap to the wide eyes all baring down upon you.

"Oh...hard...luck, Bakugou"

Your eyes fell to your wrist.

"Izuku"

Perhaps fate wasn't so cruel after all.

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

[vannyvancan]

“nice to meet you“ Roommate!Shinsou Hitoshi X F!Reader Part 1

MINORS DNI

my masterlist

Tw for : Assassin!Shinsou theme, female reader,  gun usage, slight insecurity (?), NSFW for the most part on the later chapters, drug usage, corrupt government talk, harassment

This was the worst timing of your life. It was September and you knew time is going to pass quickly to chilly December. Even though late summer's breeze made it pleasurable to go out in town to run errands, the increase of supply demand made you squeeze out what little energy you had for the office job at logistics. Barely earning your required minimum wage in the small flat that you owned, your life was miserable for your financial conditions. Then your dear neighbor friend gave you an idea.

"Put up a roommate flyers? You can definitely share expenses with someone to ease your wallet"

Its not like it was a bad idea. You had roommates in the past in your time in college, you just were afraid of the mess you'd usually come back to once your classes would end. Now that you are an adult woman with a job, it seemed almost silly. Still wearing your summer loose shirt and shorts as house-wear you were basking in what little warmth summer had to offer, you looked out of the flat window to gaze at the orange sunset while preparing your fliers, the mixture of pink and purple ombre sent your mind in a state of serenity. For a moment you had forgotten your financial worries.

If only there was a way for you to excel more at your job and earn more, you've tried to, but the corrupt system only allowed privileged people on the spot.

The thought sent you back to reality and you grimaced, sighing and turning your head back to the paper you reread the information on it.

„Looking for a roommate at Address XXX, phone number and e-mail contact info...“

It was really neat even, you made a cutout for each number and email paper so that people can pluck it and consider it. You sent out fliers and continued on with your day.

The moment you sent out fliers around your workspace, around your building and in the most populated places in the town, the realization settled in that you'd be sharing expenses with some total stranger, you didn't have any friends that needed help, almost everyone that you knew off was either married and living with their partner or busy helping their parents and therefore still living with them. You had asked your closest friend, Uraraka if she needed it as a temporary stay before she moved out of country, but her plans caught her working on the other side of the city and was too far away from you. She probably had a similar situation like you so you felt bad.

You only hoped that the person that would knock on the door and be your roommate would not end up harassing you, make a mess more than you usually make yourself, or like your pessimistic parents would say, kill you.

Within two days, you get a call early morning, startling you awake.

Flying out of bed to pluck your phone out from charger you coughed out your morning voice and looked at the unknown number on the screen, swiping the green phone you answered.  You were curious on the sort of person you'd have this conversation with. Maybe you were a bit naive, because on one hand you were anxious, but you sure were also exited to have a person in this soulless flat.

"Hey... Is this the right number for a roommate flier?"

You've never heard a voice such like his. Spending your almost entire life in that neighborhood you've grown accustomed to voices such like your local sweet lady at supermarket, the friend from work had much more boring voices. But this guy seemed to have come from the outside. Perhaps Uraraka knew of him? You could ask, but doubtful.

Maybe he came to work temporarily? Your mind raced with questions as the mysterious, low voice left you speechless and it took you some time until he asked again

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Oh- y-yes I'm sorry!"

„My name is Shinsou Hitoshi, I was wondering if we could discuss about it further and meet up somewhere? Preferably an hour from now, at... Midoriya's Lounge Cafe? Sounds good?“

God, his voice sent your legs wobbling and it was only 7:05 AM on Saturday. He obviously had energy to do it now and you were barely awake, about to pass out by the mere vibrations from the speaker.

„Sure! Thank you for considering my place. Let's meet up there.“

Waking up fully you dressed up, plastered some make up on and stormed out, you also made sure to hide whatever leftover clothing from your living room in your bedroom to hide any nasty appearance if he decides to come here.

The stroll was short, the cafe he proposed was a 20 minute walk from your place, you weren’t sure if it was a coincidence that he chose this place or if he was considerate for choosing a place close by, but you were grateful for it.

8 AM and the cafe was rather busy at Saturday morning, good thing was that there was a lot of free space between tables, you'd usually pick this place to have a peace of mind when it was afternoon lunch break and you weren’t much hungry.

Now entering, the door made a small 'ding' from the doorbell, marking your entrance, your eyes scanned the area to find anyone who would be remotely looking at your direction. You didn't know how Shinsou looked like, but he could of easily tracked on the contact info how you looked like.

You made an eye contact with an individual staring at you, were his purple eyes staring back at you the whole time? The gaze sent the hairs on your back of your neck stand out. He was intimidatingly dangerous, it was apparent. His arms seemed to have enough strength to crush both of your wrists with just his one hand, his tall figure managed to find comfort in the armchair, knee poked a bit on the side and you could only guess how tall he truly was judging by his sitting position. The only coloured thing he wore was the purple strap adorning his black pants and t-shirt. The strap also matched his eyes and wild hair. It sure was in unusual colour, but you didn't question it since the owner of the said lounge was green haired.

He slowly tapped a finger on the table two times while looking at you.

'So this is Mr. Shinsou?' You questioned yourself, it was only logical, to whoever else he might invite to come sit beside him? Gulping a lump in your throat, you approached him, setting a bag on the other chair you noticed a sports bag was beside him. Was this all of his luggage? He didn't seem to have much if he was ready to move in right now, maybe he was only a temporary stay? Maybe he just came out from a gym.

Of course, it was 8 AM. And the man now sitting across you seemed to be the type to buff himself a lot, you held in your breath again once your gaze set on his exposed forearms and how tight his black shirt hugged his figure. It took you good amount of time to introduce yourself to him, but he seemed to be patient enough to let you get comfortable.

„Hello! You must be the one for the flier, my name is Y/N. It's a pleasure to make acquaintance.“

„Nice to meet you. I ordered us coffee if you don't mind?“ He smiled lightly

„Oh I don't mind, I love coffee in here, I'm a regular.“

After a short greeting, you two had a small talk on his and your state of living, you were sure he was going to be a semi-distant person, judging by his work schedule that makes it almost impossible to meet him throughout the day and night, you were kind of worried, but didn't judge much since it was his job of choice, he never said what he did though.

„Well you could say I'm a night owl. I go where I'm asked, taking calls left and right. Don't worry, I earn enough for your rent.“ He crossed his legs and laid back on the armchair, letting his arms rest on each side of it. You didn't say it but you were especially enjoying the view.

You were quiet careful when it came to relationships, ever since you had your heart broken in hopes of finding one, it made you feel insecure if you'd ever find a soulmate. This man made it seem like he was a big fish to catch, and you were out of his league so you quickly established it before any further thoughts entered in your mind.

„Great! So you want to come to my place now to look around before deciding? There's a guest room where you can leave your stuff.“

The indigo haired man nodded, after you had drank your morning coffee, you both payed for it and left, he took his sport bag and you eyed him curiously. You barely know him and now you know now he is going to come and live with you. Its not like you had much of a choice... you had to save on something, you were starving, and he came by quickly to come and live with you. As exciting as it is to have an attractive individual come and live with you, it also terrified you.

The walk back to your place was quiet, occasional questions slipped out from your mouth. Asking about his food preference and anything he didn't like to make his stay more comfortable. He seemed pretty open about anything.

„Is that all of the luggage you are taking with you or are you going to come back with more?“

„No, this is all.“ He responded, short and concise. „I'm a man of simple needs.“

God he should stop talking, or more like you should stop asking questions like a curious kitten, his voice made you jump on the phone but it was a stuggle to be with him in lounge to hear him talk as well. Once arriving, you struggled to find a door key for a second and you opened it to reveal a simple flat.

„Here we are.“ You looked at him and let him enter first.

You weren’t going to let your guard down still, if he was going to do something behind your back you at least wanted to have a little bit of chance to escape. His foot stepped inside, softly stepping on the plush carpet with his dark shoes he inspected the area almost innocently. You sighed in relief and entered after him, closing the door behind you.

„On the right is a door to the guest room.“ You said as you took off your jacket and tossed the key to the stand. „There's a bathroom in here and my room in on the left. If you ever need me just knock on the door alright?“

„You doubt that I don't have manners? Careful you might lose a roommate now.“

He turned sideways and grinned at you. There was something about this individual that's going to be a handful for you, nevertheless of how little you are going to see him throughout the day. After the short tour, he signed a contract of living with you. As you suspected, he was going to be a temporary stay in the city, he promised to be out of your neck in six months, after that, he was going out. He gave you the first pay and shortly after that he was phone called by someone on his end.

'Busy bee, isn’t he?' You thought to yourself as you watched him leave, shrugging the thought away you glanced curiously at his bag in the room that he left.

'It's not polite to look at other people's things.' You hummed and closed the door to now Shinsou's room. Feeling the unease fading away now, you decided to not worry yourself about other people's things as you had too much of your own.

Dialing the phone now yourself you sent a message to your friend.

[Today] 'Hey, Uraraka? Want to go out someday? I have so much to talk about! <3 '