#staring at a notebook and wondering why you thought writing it would be a good idea in the first place

[ghostjelliess]

Incurred/acquired dyslexia (i.e. from trauma/concussion) isn't just spelling words wonky when you're tired and not being able to process an uninterrupted string of numbers that surpasses three digits. It's also regularly, and without realizing it, calling ramekins as macrames because the consonant weight feels like the same word in your brain-mouth until one day you can't think of either word and you ask your fiance and then both go look it up, only to realize your fiance now calls the ramekin a macrame. Now you have to explain how that's your bad, the plants hanging in the window things are macrame, sorry for being mean about it that one time.

[twistedchatterbox]

You feel a lot like love

summary: lovesick boys & living in their head rent-free... you have no idea what you do to them, or maybe you do. ft.Riddle, Leona, Azul, (Vil, Idia, and more later if this does well) tags: crushing, pre-established relationship & established relationship, off camera date/confessions, GN reader(you/your), lovesick boys 4 u, marriage mention, Azul gets insecure but the thought of you makes it better, no beta we overblot like men

wordcount: 1200+ | Masterlist & Taglist

• Riddle Roshearts

“Attention!” Riddle’s head snapped upwards, unaware that he had zoned out; thankfully so was the professor, who was calling out some other unfortunate student. As the red haired dormwarden went through the stages of shock, simply stunned and unable to process the realisation that he was not paying attention in class. However he quickly enough settled back into the regular plane of consciousness, taking note of his surroundings and re-checking his notes, eyes widening when he spots “[Name] Rosehearts”. Oh. Riddle gulped a silent, empty breath, staring at the string of words for what felt like the longest two seconds of his life. Oh, oh how was he supposed to confess to you? As his thoughts once again abandoned the class, deciding that you have become his favourite subject, Riddle silently agreed with his subconscious to give up on paying attention in class for one day; instead focusing on you. The smitten, heart adorned dormwarden slipped out a red notebook, a journal, opening an empty page, he started to write his heart and see if he could come up with a good confession, a well-phrased way to ask you out. He could beg his beating heart to stop running laps in his ribcage, yet his mind could not be further from it as he thought of you, his other half. The dorm of heartslabyul has never known greater paranoia. Ace was fully abiding by the rules, Cater has never been faster, Trey was mentally going through the list of possible scenarios. Why? It was quiet. Too quiet. Riddle was not around, he had ghosted Trey and Cater- even after they tried to report on rule breakers; something was clearly wrong, or at least upside down and slightly to the left. Deuce was studying diligently and holding his breath, almost as if Riddle was peering over his shoulder, hell that would at least prove the dormwarden was there! This, to the heartslabyul dorm, was the cruellest joke on earth. And then Riddle came back to the dorm, for the first time ever dressed in a more.. casual look. No way in hell was on campus, judging by the soft red cardigan and absence of the NRC uniform jacket, the button up replaced by a regular black shirt with a loose, circle collar that allowed his collarbone and neck to breathe. If anyone was to be honest, this did not look like Riddle at first glance. And then at second glance all hell silently broke loose, Trey’s glasses comically cracked, Cater dropped his phone, Deuce aced a test; Riddle was placing a kiss on your wrist, leading you slowly by the arm like a gentleman. He was on a date. Unmistakably so if the red roses you held as a bouquet were anything to go by. And once again, Riddle could not care or even try to pay attention to his surroundings; as if he would want to look elsewhere while he had you to focus on.

• Leona Kingscholar

“Wakey wa– Oh fuck n-o, never mind.” Ruggie closed the door back before he even properly opened it. Leona barely huffed, rolling over to better cover your body with his; like a weighted blanket, the rumbling in his chest far too relaxing for you to stir awake. ..And yet, he couldn’t fall back asleep. Far too awake to keep his eyes closed, yet not enough to get out of bed; alone with his thoughts as he idly held your sleeping form. Sometimes he wondered if these types of mornings would end, or if he could wake up with you for the rest of his days, and he wishes he could smack himself upside down on the head for these loud what-ifs. As if he could sleep it off, feelings like these never really worked like that; it only used to make him angry, frustrated and madly irritable in the past, but now he felt scared at the possibilities those thoughts encapsulated. The ones that were possible were worse, making him wish. Wish.. it felt ridiculous to say such a word for someone so seemingly void of even the faintest hint of sunshine, Leona was not cheerful, surely not. But he was hopeful, then not; it stayed like that for a long while, until you decided to take these matters into your own hands, your considerably smaller, slender hands, soft compared to his own. He, unaware of his own, took your hands in his idle ones, feeling your palms and fingers. Leona closed his eyes as he nuzzled onto the crown of your head, comforted by the scent of your hair. In the back of his mind, his hands memorised the feel of your fingers, wondering what kind of ring you’d like best. The grumpy lion beastman mentally laughed as his morning pondering comes full circle, thinking about how you had his heart in your gentle hands.He smiled at the thought. He could be hopeful.

• Azul Ashengrotto “Takoyaki!-” Azul’s eyes widened, looking at the idle pool of ink at the base of his quill. He clicked his tongue, expression shaping up to one of frustration, and near-disgust. Lifting up his hand, he made sure that the sleeves of his uniform were not ruined, carefully taking off the stained glove and leaving the office in oddly collected fashion. The feeling was.. off, making Floyd look down to try seeing his expression, albeit unsuccessful. Azul knew the eel twin would quickly put it together, putting more effort into his steps, walking faster with hopes of not running into you. He would cry if you discovered the power you held over him and his heart. The mere possibility had him gulp in hopes of swallowing his nerves, twisting the doorknob and locking himself in his room as the ever familiar and forever disgusting feeling of tears stung his eyes once again, and Azul half haphazardly hid himself under his blankets, ignoring all noise, blocking out his own thoughts, or at least trying to. And yet, the image of you in his mind is the exact thing that brings him comfort; he lays wondering what you’d think if he made a fool of himself in front of you, only to feel conflicted when he fails to imagine a negative reaction, he knows you wouldn’t berate him for a slip up. You never even call him out when he acts out of character, going as far as to cover up for him when he messes up big time, and you never ask for anything other than his time for it when you do. “Fair enough”, it was his response the first time, now he finds himself internally craving, damn-near begging for more; haa.. He would laugh had it been anyone else’s suffering, but he’s not sure if he can even feign dislike of the situation, only ever hoping for more chances to keep this silent arrangement going. He has always been quite greedy, capitalising your affection, time, attention. And forever caught off guard by you, it seems. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when his phone notifies him with a custom ring-tone, the one he set for you. Scrambling to grab his phone swiftly and reply fast, all he sees is “I’m going over to your dorm room. Floyd said something was up with you, are you ok?” -And before he can even start typing you send another; “I’m bringing some of your favourites do you want anything” Oh you really are simply wonderful. Azul knows he means every word, replying to your messages “Just you”.

[cr4yolaas]

the weight of words — alhaitham x mute! reader

notes: based off of this tiktok i found a long while ago featuring a poem that serves as the base for this fic <3 i feel like this is very poorly written / rushed and it lacks a good flow but i wanted to get it out asap bc i didn’t have any more energy to write it LOL

tags: italics represent handwritten notes, reader is implied to be rlly smart / top of the class, implied depressive episode (reader), self deprecation (reader), fluff → angst → fluff, may or may not be an inaccurate rep. of mute individuals, ooc alhaitham, not proofread

this was a little more irksome than he wanted to admit.

at the very top of the akademiya, far away from prying eyes, sat a student bathed in sunlight. from a distance, he observed. you held a book in one hand and an apple in the other, while your legs dangled off of the ledge. he couldn’t discern much from your backside.

but what bothered him the most was that you were seated in “his” spot. the spot he always crept away to during lunch, mainly for its isolation and breathtaking view.

without hesitation, alhaitham approached you. he tapped on your shoulder and stared with an intensity akin to the blazing sun in june. “excuse me,” he began. “i normally sit here. i would greatly appreciate it if you moved to another place, as i’m most accustomed to this spot.”

a silence washed over as you stared up at him. your lack of response left him annoyed — did you find this funny?

however, as you set down your book and snack gently, alhaitham found himself surprised for the first time in a while.

a notebook sat on your lap as you wrote rapidly. the man watched quietly.

i’m afraid not. there are countless other spots up here, and i just happened to get to this one first.

a sigh slipped from his lips. while he wasn’t unfamiliar with stubborn personalities around campus, this particular interaction seemed to interest him more than it irritated him. alhaitham nodded and sat beside you, much to your surprise.

he listened as you flipped your page and began writing again, this time taking up less space on the paper.

why do you like sitting here? you passed the notebook to him.

he wrote much slower in comparison to you, however, his handwriting bore an elegance you had not seen before, as if each letter carried a song in the ink. you found it beautiful.

the lack of noise.

his short response made you smile — simple and straight to the point. another thing you deemed wonderful.

he did not hand the notebook back to you, but instead, continued to write. i dislike unnecessary sounds. they serve as useless interruptions. up here, i find that in comparison to the chatter of students, the ambience is soothing. alhaitham placed the notebook in your lap gingerly and looked into the distance, his gaze absent yet his thoughts reverberating.

you continued this back and forth with him for the entirety of the lunch break. the lines engraved on your palms spilled over with ink smears, and you found your dominant arm growing weary. you did not write your goodbyes on the paper, therefore leaving your conversation unfinished. you left with a smidge of warmth in your heart and a smile on your face in hopes of meeting him again the next day.

from afar, you could see the way he sat leaning slightly more towards one side, and the occasional tapping of his fingers against the table as he wrote. he drank from a small mug of what you presumed to be coffee, but rather than holding the handle, he gripped the cup from its mouth. another intricacy that piqued your interest.

he noticed your stare after a few seconds, eyes of jade and clementine meeting yours. without a word, he relocated to your table, sitting directly across from you. “hello,” he greeted softly. “i didn’t know you frequented this place either.” his gaze flickered over to your notebook peeking out of your schoolbag, and when you pulled it out to respond to him, he found himself getting uncharacteristically excited.

i don’t, actually. i wanted a change of pace, but i’m not sure how much i’m enjoying it. you pushed the book across the table to him.

is it too loud to study? that’s surprising.

you looked up at him questioningly for a moment before jotting down your reply. i’m not studying. i’m just here to read. his lips upturned noticeably at your words, an expression you wished to carve into the crevices of your memory for eternity. he was painstakingly beautiful.

alhaitham didn’t respond for a handful of seconds, instead opting to look outside the window to his left. strands of sunlight draped themselves onto his perfectly crafted face and fell between each strand of hair. a view that compared to the one at the top of the akademiya.

a conversation of short responses — ranging from questions about your darshan, to your favorite season, to the books you enjoyed reading — ensued, the evidence splayed onto the paper. you appreciated his company, for it was rare that anyone sought to talk with you.

he asked another question, his curiosity seeping out endlessly. why do you communicate like this?

a thin-lipped smile etched itself onto your lips. the ink of your pen ghosted atop the paper, your hesitation evident. i was born mute. i have no voice, therefore i cannot communicate in a normal manner.

you grew increasingly anxious as he looked at you with an expression that was terrifyingly unreadable. your hands rested atop the notebook, keeping it away from him for reasons you didn’t understand quite yet.

“that’s okay,” he spoke, the baritone of his voice cutting through your shared silence. “i don’t mind it. actually, i think i prefer it. over the grating voices of the other scholars i know, at least.” he went on about his senior, a friend in kshahrewar who apparently could never keep his mouth shut in his presence. you merely listened, soaking in his words and absorbing each syllable that spilled out of the cracks between his teeth. your confession rendered you utterly silent, but seemingly, he paid no mind.

again, your conversation ended without a proper goodbye. your notebook sat still on the table. moments after his departure, you stayed in your seat, contemplating the complications of this newfound acquaintance.

alhaitham’s life revolved around routine and quiet. he needed both to go about his day in an efficient and satisfying manner; otherwise, he would end up feeling rather unfulfilled and bothered.

perhaps that is why he found himself so drawn to you. in comparison to many of his classmates, who were incessantly obnoxious and needlessly talkative, you were quiet, not just vocally, but in every other aspect. your handwriting was consistent and each letter looked just as neat as the other. your responses were similar to his in that they were direct and honest. and, oddly, you radiated a warmth that he could not see in anyone else.

his next encounter with you wouldn’t be for a handful of days. he knew you were a student, thus resulting in his confusion — he had never seen you around campus until that day.

he ran into you during one of his lectures. you sat right beside him in a seat that wasn’t usually occupied. he began to question you with pen and paper, as usual.

since when were you enrolled in this class?

i always have been. this isn’t a necessary class for my darshan, it’s just an extra period for me to increase my credits. i don’t come to class very often.

he quirked a brow up. you fiddled with your pen.

interesting how i haven’t heard of you until now. alhaitham smiled softly at your muffled giggle, one that he had not heard until then. the noise swarmed his chest with a lightness he could not replicate.

you might have fallen too soon.

alhaitham was a simple man, yet alluring all the same. you had snuck away his perfections and imperfections in a different notebook. for instance:

3 - straightforward and direct

21 - prefers tea over coffee

44 - can’t sleep without a weighted blanket

your ever-growing infatuation for him began to blossom in the cavities of your stomach, and soon, it would infect everything above. you could not bear it — nights spent in solitude, where he would discuss his interests (which were minimal) until you fell asleep; afternoons spent in comfort, where you would share a slice of cake to celebrating a particularly difficult exam. he consumed your very being, the neurons that invoked muscular response and the veins that carried your blood here and there; all of it was him. and yet, you could not meaningfully share this with him, your silence embedding your heart in a crevice far away.

it seemed that he got to it first, anyways.

alhaitham asked you a simple question — if you were capable of speaking for a day, what would you say? he had begun carrying his own memo book to conversate — another addition to the list.

you sat in silence for a brief period before writing, every thought and feeling and idea that has ever encountered my mind would leave my lips.

he wrote, then i will give you just that, and more.

when you began dating alhaitham, you found that he was much more eager to “speak” to you consistently. he would write in his same font and present to you a variety of inquiries, ranging from plans for the day to what you wanted for dinner. he was the epitome of a loving man, a far cry from the tales of coldheartedness and brutality you’ve heard of him. and yet, something began to gnaw at your lungs as he did so.

alhaitham was your voice to speak through — he was the monotonous ramblings, the heavy whispers, the gentle laughs; he held all of those for you. seemingly, life became far more breathable.

but your love was just as restricting as it was kind. to speak is to suffer, but to not speak at all is beyond that — it is torture. nights were spent staring at alhaitham’s sleeping figure, questioning whether he truly felt the affection you expressed. gifts, contact, quality time; what good was it if you could not do something as simple as converse with him? it extended beyond him, as well — for reasons unknown, it grew increasingly difficult to communicate with your new professors and classmates, the downturns of their lips as you pulled out a notebook gut-wrenching. you questioned if alhaitham felt the same.

you began to spiral.

a rapid set of knocks arrived at your door at a questionable hour. the sun hung high in the sky, albeit obscured by your curtains. a soft buzz rung in your room.

“i know you’re inside,” a voice spoke from the other side of the wood. he knocked again.

you made no move to open the door, nor to approach it, nor to get up from your bed. in response, the hinges creaked and heavy footsteps neared.

“why have you locked yourself in here?” alhaitham asked, his tone indiscernible. you didn’t see it, but you heard him shuffling around your bedroom. “where is your notebook?”

it was silly. he spoke as if you could respond, and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to be sorrowful or upset.

he pulled the blanket from off of your head, his face indifferent as he witnessed your disheveled state. “i’m not sure what’s going on, but i can assure you i will wait until you’re well enough to speak to me again. i will always wait.” alhaitham set his own memo book and pen beside your pillow. a warm hand held yours, a signal of reassurance. “please get better as soon as you can.”

he turned around to leave, and you could not bring yourself to reach out for him. what would you do? would the words crawl out of your throat, akin to a miracle? or would you plead at him with desperate eyes in hopes he’d read your mind? you did not know. every instance would inconvenience him in some way — that you could not bear.

you did not step foot outside for another week. alhaitham (and kaveh, much to your surprise) had left meals and gifts next to your door, all of which remained untouched. you were in stasis.

each thought had been replaced by a fog so asphyxiating that it had drowned every word the moment it rose to the surface. a bubbling exhaustion boiled in you. you wished to speak, to express anything at all, to apologize for inconveniencing those around you, and to apologize to alhaitham for putting him through such an obstacle.

as if sensing this desire, he arrived at your dorm again, this time with a more gentle appearance and a large bag behind him.

you reached out for the notebook he placed beside you a week prior. why are you here?

he kneeled down beside you, paying no mind to your disheveled appearance, and spoke softly, “i’m sorry.” if it were fitting, he would have laughed at the instantaneous furrow of your brows. “i should’ve realized. and in failing to do so, i have failed you.” alhaitham took the notebook and pen from your grasp, and with an unrivaled delicacy, he held you.

“i would give up my own voice if it meant i could spend an eternity with you,” he began. “i do not care if you lack a voice of your own. you’re still embedded in my heart all the same.”

you had not written to him for days. and yet, he understood everything. he read the words displayed in your features with a familiarity no one had demonstrated.

758 - willing to help me heal.

alhaitham sat across from you, his back hunched over his work and his face framed with a mix of feather-gray hair and wispy sunlight. he wrote with an unmatched fluidity, as if time were escaping him.

he let out a sigh as he set down his pencil and sat up straight. “why must you sit with me if you’ve finished this assignment weeks ago? it’s as if you’re mocking me.”

it’s entertaining. he grabbed the notebook from your side of the table and wrote haphazardly, contrasting his smooth technique before.

it’s really not. i feel as if i’m being ridiculed and observed under a microscrope. it’s horrible, he teased.

you’re smart, anyways. you’ll survive.

afternoons in the akademiya’s library were once suffocating and exhausting. to be surrounded by peers who could only sneer and misjudge and question was unpleasant. now, as you sat with your lover in a soft silence, you felt at peace.

[zelcii]

do u right for luke castellan? if u do can u write some fluff for himmm? thank u, love ur writing

why | luke castellan

“if you want to stay as the counsellor of your cabin, you’re going to have to work harder,” mr. d said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“i’m sorry,” you deadpanned, frustration creeping into your voice. “what?”

chiron rolled his eyes at dionysus. “it’s nothing personal,” he replied dismissively. “we appreciate your efforts—”

“we just know that you can do better,” mr. d interrupted.

luke stood just outside the door, waiting for you, when he overheard the conversation. he didn’t think much of it, except for how wrong both chiron and mr. d were.

what surprised him the most was the meek, tired “yes, sir,” that slipped from your lips on the other side of the door.

as your boyfriend, luke has had the opportunity to watch you up close as you hustle through camp, over-organising activities, making sure every camper is accounted for. you’re always on the move, practically running the place, and sometimes he wonders if you ever take a minute to breathe. your dedication is impressive, no doubt, but it hurts him to see you wear yourself down with every unnecessary list, every forced smile you give chiron, and each desperate attempt to hold everything together on your own.

today is no different, of course. the kids are out exploring, their laughter echoing in the distance, while you sit at one of the empty tables with a can of soda, sluggishly jotting down yet another mundane task for the afternoon.

“hey, camper,” you say, barely looking up from your notebook as you take a sip of your strawberry soda.

“come,” he says, but it’s not really a question.

“what?” you glance up, surprise flickering in your eyes as he gently places a hand on your arm, urging you to stand.

“you heard me.” with one hand, he closes your notebook and tucks it under his arm, then grabs your can of soda and takes a sip.

“but—the kids?” you protest, frowning.

“eh. they won’t miss you.” he flashes you a grin, and with a stifled chuckle escaping you, the two of you make your way over to the empty dock, settling down with your legs dangling over the edge.

“how are you?” luke questions, you watch the way his slim waist slumps as he stretched his hands out behind him. “and i mean really.”

“good. haven’t gotten the chance to talk to you in a while though,” you smile, watching your reflection in the water beneath you.

“why?” the boy asked. you paused. there was a look in your eye as you went over your answer, a look that luke would never forget. you never thought of why exactly you’ve been busy all summer. probably because the answer seemed obvious to you.

“i’m working, luke?” you say, though you sound unsure. “why do you ask?”

the wood is warm beneath you as you stare out into the lake. you could see a group of campers staggered around the edges of the lake, a few taking a moment to dip into the coolness of the water. luke was leaned back on his hands, a lazy smile on his face as he watches the way your lips curl up at the sight of your kids.

“mr. d wasn’t the best this morning during senior council…” luke started, carefully watching the way your face twisted for your reaction. “i don’t know, i guess i get surprised when you let things like that slide.”

“what’s this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you turn to look at him. he looks almost unreal in the warm light of the setting sun, the golden rays casting a soft glow on the side of his face, making his eyes seem to shine just for you. he was a demigod for sure.

“an intervention,” he jokes, a hint of mischief in his tone. 

you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss how the sunlight catches in your hair, turning it a soft gold. it’s a moment, a second of reluctance that tells him to think twice before he continues this conversation with you.

“look,” he says, his tone shifting slightly. he sat up straighter, his eyes never leaving yours, “i’ve noticed you’ve been working your ass off lately; more than most of us. so why’d you just take that shit from mr. d?”

for a minute, all you could do was stare at him, and all he could do was stare at you. he took note of how the meat on your bones seemed to lessen over the course of the summer, how your tired eyes sunk into your rosy cheeks, and how your lips glossed over with the same lip gloss you had since the sixth grade.

“i know… what it sounds like—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“do you even like being a counsellor?”

“of course, i do,” you say with no hesitation, your eyes hardening as you sounded slightly offended.

his expression softens, concern flickering across his face. “look, baby, i know it’s none of my business how you choose to waste your time, but you barely even sleep anymore.”

you take so much shit from chiron and mr. d and you never even once go against their orders, we haven’t had time alone since before summer, and you give so much of your time to people who don’t deserve it… i know that nobody asked you this before,” 

“but do you ever wonder why?”

the question hangs between you, and for a moment, you’re silent, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. you look down at your hands, playing with the edges of your shorts. “why what?” you knew ‘why what.’

“why are you like this?” he prompts, holding eye contact.

“because…” you sigh, searching for the right words. “i don’t know… but chiron—”

“forget chiron,” he replies softly as he takes your hand in his. “you’re his best counsellor. he was probably just messing with you, sweetheart.”

you meet his gaze, and for the first time, you realise how much weight you’ve been holding. you sigh, looking at him; his eyes never leave yours. 

“maybe you’re right,” you say slowly.

“of course, i’m right,” he scoffs, a smirk creeping onto his face, but the warmth in his eyes makes you want to kiss the smug look right off of it.

“big talk for a hermes, castellan,” you challenge, leaning in closer with a playful grin.

luke smirks, quick to respond. “that’s not the only big thing, baby.”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound ringing out like music in the morning air. it’s the hardest you’ve laughed since before summer camp, and in that moment, you realised just how much you’ve missed this.

[haikyu-mp4]

Workplace romance

word count; 941 – f!reader, fluff

“The Schweiden Adlers ball is next weekend, I assume you know that,” you mumble to start off, already used to how Kageyama’s knee bounces repeatedly in what you could only assume was restlessness. “I just need to know who you will bring as a date. There will be paparazzi and I just want to make sure I have everything under control.” As you were speaking, you didn’t really look up at the man, simultaneously finishing off the notes from your previous meeting with Hoshiumi.

“A date?” Kageyama repeated back to you and you chuckled softly at his confusion, sparing him a glance.

You’re one of Schweiden Adlers’ PR managers, recently tasked with handling the three younger members, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hoshiumi Korai and Kageyama Tobio. They are all pretty sweet and you thanked the heavens every day that you didn’t end up as PR manager for the MSBY Black Jackals. “Yes, you get a plus one. You could also bring your mom or sister, that’s always good for your image. Alternatively, there’s no problem with going alone. Although that might call forth a different genre of headlines…” you rambled, doing your job and analysing the different options without even noticing how the young man was twiddling his thumbs in his lap nervously.

Kageyama was the one you spoke with the most from the team, as he was also the newest to this business. While the two of you would talk casually outside the four walls of your borrowed office all the time, you loved your job and preferred to stay stressed and professional while doing meetings. “But I could bring a date too? Someone I like?” he asked. For some annoying reason, his words made you stop writing and an icky feeling crept into your stomach.

“Of course, I just need to know who so that I can take the necessary precautions…” you answered, biting the inside of your cheek as if to force yourself to speak.

“Will you go with me?” he asked. Finally, ran through his mind as your eyes finally stilled where he could see them, staring right into his. Kageyama smiled nervously, hoping you would answer any second now. It’s a bit like the smile you finally coaxed out of him for those commercial photos. Oddly charming.

“You want to go with me?” you asked, wondering if you heard him correctly and straightening up in your seat. Hopefully, he couldn’t see your bright red ears.

“Yes,” he answered simply. No room for misunderstanding there, you suppose.

“That’s…” you couldn’t help the giddy chuckle you left in the air as you looked back down at all your messy notes. “Very unexpected.”

“Why? I thought I made it obvious that I like you,” he said, blunt as ever. Tobio felt like this should not be a surprise at all, as he made an effort to talk to you every time he saw you and even got you a box of milk on the days he knew you would be there in advance. Was his affection not obvious?

You’re full-on grinning like a madman now, burying your face in your hands to hide the blush on your cheeks. “I would love to go with you.” you finally declared, not responding to his blunt confession because you weren’t quite sure how to yet. “But I need to talk to some of our bosses and make sure it’s approved first. We wouldn’t want any scandals to plague your name,” you said, removing your hands from your face as you went halfway into work mode again. You flipped to a new page in your notebook and wrote down what information you needed. The smile was still stuck on your face and Tobio was happy to see it.

“Okay.” he agreed. There was still a sense of childish innocence to him that you really liked. “But I don’t want to go with anyone else,” he added as if that was just stuck in his mind.

“You should go back to practice, Tobio,” you said, using your softest voice to make sure he knew you weren’t trying to be dismissive. “If you stop by before you leave today, I will let you know how it’s looking after making some calls,” you told him, smiling as he got up.

“I will see you soon, then.” He bowed, about to leave when you spoke again.

“Tobio!” you called, pursing your lips and considering your next words before they just spilt from your lips. “I like you too.”

Kageyama walked back to practice with a happy smile, making Hoshiumi frown at him as if it was the creepiest thing he had ever seen. Meanwhile, you were in your office kicking your feet and punching the air in joy before taking a deep breath to start making those calls without giggling.

He stopped by after practice, like he promised, knocking on the door and walking in with a hopeful spark in his eyes. You told him how this might play out so he would be prepared for any potential consequences, but could still happily inform him that you would be going with him to the event.

And boy were your assumptions right. The headlines questioning whether or not this was appropriate were simply unavoidable. However, it only took one press conference to quiet it down.

“She’s very sweet, I really like her. It would make me sad if we could not be together just because she also works with keeping me and my teammates out of trouble,” he said softly, making the reporters coo and the headlines turn from Volleyball manager: Inappropriate moneygrabber to Living our fantasies: Kageyama’s workplace romance.

[ozzgin]

Hello again, are requests still open? If they are, can I request headcanons for Izuku, Shoto, and Tamaki with an artist reader? They stumble upon the reader's book full of art. The book also has drawings of them and the reader together.

Yes! I even have your previous ask halfway written in my drafts, which I might just conveniently incorporate it here haha. I'm just very slow to write everything. I do mark the request section as closed when it's the case., so no worries.

BNHA Characters x Artist! Reader Headcanons

Featuring Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shoto, Amajiki Tamaki and a reader whose doodles are rather obvious in meaning. More fluff!

Midoriya Izuku

Deku is not really one to pry. So it was absolutely not his intention to snoop. He'd just assumed that your notebook has generic scribbles made of class notes, facts and observations, similar to his. He didn't expect to find intricate sketches, and of such quality too!

Really, he's mesmerized. He has an eye for detail and will carefully scan every line and every brush stroke. Is this a portrait of your teacher? Fantastic angle you've chosen! The crosshatching adds a lot of depth. He slowly flips through the pages, wondering why you've never mentioned your hobby. He's even a little dejected, fearing you might not consider him as close a friend.

Then he reaches the doodles of him and you together. Oh. Ooooh. He has to look away for a moment, trying to contain his blush. Well, it certainly makes sense you'd keep it from him. He'd like to return the sketchbook and pretend he never saw anything, but...As much as he doesn't want to embarrass you, he can't get the idea out of his mind. To think you like him, too...Can he really hide how happy that makes him?

Todoroki Shoto

Opening your personal belongings was completely unintentional. Todoroki had accidentally included one of your notebooks among his own and swiftly left for his dorm room. As he clumsily dumped out the contents of his bag, he finally spotted the foreign item sprawled out on his desk.

Drawings? He can't think of anyone in class to ever mention such interest. Then he remembers he sat next to you, so it must be yours. He blushes slightly at the idea. It would be most terrible of him to snoop further, but he can't help his curiosity. He'd love to know more about you and a perfect opportunity is shining brightly before him. Just a quick peek...nothing more.

To think you were this skilled and he never noticed. He stumbles upon a portrait of himself. Unexpected. When did you even have the time to observe him so carefully? His lips purse in embarrassment. By the time he reaches the lovely couple doodles, his ears are bright red. Was his crush that obvious? He can hardly believe the coincidence of you liking him back and expressing it so clearly. Returning the sketchbook will certainly be interesting. It is the duty of a Prince, after all (If he is to refer to your little sketches).

Amajiki Tamaki

Tamaki has noticed how you often sneak away from the crowds and assumed you, too, are struggling with anxiety and awkwardness. Upon further inspection, however, it seems you just enjoy sketching by yourself. He feels a little ridiculous, hiding behind the wall and spying on an innocent hobby like this.

Then again, why the secrecy? He always thought you're good friends, yet you never mentioned anything about it. Combined with the fact you frequently praise him or gaze at him uncomfortably long...Are you planning on pranking him or something? No, no, that's just his paranoia talking. He reassures himself as he holds the little book you conveniently forgot behind. This is the perfect opportunity to prove to himself he's overthinking as usual.

Seeing the doodles of you and him together turns him into a fumbling, red-faced mess. His hands are trembling. The polite thing to do right now would be to close the notebook and promptly return it. Still, he's stuck in place, staring at the pages. Is this a joke? You can't possibly like him back. Someone like him. As much as he denies it, the longing won't leave his flustered heart. A man can dream...

[kjupchurch-xx]

Professor Jackman (WattPad request)

I tapped my pencil repeatedly on my essay as I tried to figure out how to write about our topic for the week. My college classroom was completely silent, besides the sounds of my mechanical pencil hitting my notebook. I mindlessly looked up, seeing my Professor, Professor Jackman staring at me almost amused at my disruption of the classroom, which caused me to blush nervously and quickly drop the pencil. 

Professor Jackman was a young, handsome Professor. He was around 27 years old and taught our English Literature college class. He joined our University this year, and this was his first time in America. This was my first year at University, also my first semester. I was attending college for a degree in business management, but had been required to take a college skilled English Lit class before I could proceed with a degree. I had turned 18 earlier this year, celebrating with my best friend, Bianca, who was also placed in the English Lit class. 

We'd spend hours after class discussing how hot we thought our professor was. The way he smiled, his accent, the way he smelled and the way he always showed up in a casual suit. Another fellow classmate attempted to flirt with him, other teachers would flirt with him, he'd always shrug them off in an effort to maintain professionalism. Not to mention, a student-teacher relationship is extremely forbidden and grounds for termination. 

I gave him a nervous smile as I quickly picked my pencil back up and went back to my essay. I was at a complete loss. Professor Jackman had assigned us to read a book about the life of Henrietta Lacks, which required an essay to be written for the exam. 

"Ms. Jordan?" I heard Professor Jackman's voice say, causing me to look up from the still blank paper. 

"Yes, Professor?" I asked anxiously. 

"Can we have a moment outside?" He asked, giving me firm look, which caused me to shutter. 

He was a no non-sense teacher. He did not put up with insubordination whatsoever. He was strict, but genuinely wanted his class to succeed. 

I nodded as I quickly got up from my desk and walked towards the classroom door, entering the empty hallway, he followed behind me, softly closing the door to avoid disrupting the other students. 

"Is everything okay, Ms. Jordan?" He asked me. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I looked at his beautiful face. "Yes, Professor. Everything's fine. I'm just having a difficult time with my essay." I said nervously. 

He gave me a slight nod, "Once we dismiss, I'd like to speak with you again." He said sternly. 

I nodded, "Yes, sir." I said as I walked back into the class and sat back at my desk. 

As I went back to my essay, I couldn't help but glance around the room. I kept noticing the professor stealing glances at me. Each time I'd lock eyes with him, he'd give me a small smile and look down at the stack of papers he was mindlessly grading on his desk. I couldn't help but let my mind run wild as I continued catching him stealing glances at me. I wondered what he was thinking about or why he kept continuing to look at me, not bothering to look at the other students. 

As our day came to an end, the Professor told the class to turn their papers in by placing them in a basket on his desk. Each student got up, but I stayed behind, waiting for everyone to clear the room. Bianca noticed and mouthed to me, 'what are you doing?', I sighed, mouthing back with a panicked expression on my face, 'I'm in trouble'. 

As everyone else exited the class, I made my way up to his desk, sitting my blank paper down. He got up and closed the door after the other students had left. He sat on top of his desk and looked at me curiously, a smile appearing on his lips. "What seems to be the problem?" He asked casually, as he grabbed my blank paper. 

I sighed, nervously running my fingers through my hair. "I'm not very good at essays...Unless it's a topic that I'm passionate about." I said honestly. 

He smirked at me, "So I have to give you a topic that fascinates you?" 

I chuckled softly, "I'm sorry, Professor. I'm just being honest. If I'm not invested in what I'm reading, it's hard for me to write about it." 

He shifted on his desk, looking at me with a playful smirk, "What would you say fascinates you?" He asks. 

I shrugged with a small giggle, "You really want to know what fascinates me?" 

He chuckled softly, "You're my star student. I'd love to know many things about you."

I gave him a look, furrowing my brow. "I'm your star student?" I asked in disbelief. 

He smirked, "Your grades are fairly decent. You're admired by your peers... I'm starting to get quite smitten with you myself."

I almost choked on my saliva as I widened my eyes, taking a deep breath. "You're smitten with me? What is going on right now?" I asked, chuckling. 

He chuckled at my reaction, "Ms. Jordan, you're a beautiful 18-year-old woman. I'm smitten with you. And I've also overheard you and your friend Bianca talk about me during class." 

I blushed instantly, feeling my cheeks becoming hot. Bianca and I had made comments recently about how unbelievably hot we found him. It was the day Bianca decided to "accidentally" drop her journal in front of him and slowly bend over to see if he would react to her. Which did not work out in her favor. 

He smiled, "I have to say, I'm flattered you find me...What was the word you used, Ms. Jordan? Dreamy?" He laughed softly. 

I laughed, "I did say that..." I said softly as I mentally face palmed myself.

He slid off the desk and got closer to my face, "I think you're dreamy too, love." He said flirtatiously. 

 I giggled, "Professor, I-" 

He quickly cut me off, "Class has been dismissed. You can call me Hugh. I don't expect you to call me Professor outside of class hours." He said sweetly, giving me a smile. 

This was starting to get less creepy. 

He chuckled, "I had you stay over because I was going to offer to help you with your essay." 

I gave him a look, raising my brow, "Isn't that against the rules?" I chuckled. 

He laughed softly, with a nod, "Well...There are a lot of things that are against the rules that I've said in this exchange, but me helping you with an essay would not be the worst one." 

I laughed as I sat back down at one of the desks. For the next hour, he sat at a nearby desk and helped me with my essay. Occasionally, he'd sneak his arm over my shoulder or steal a glance at me. Although I tried focusing on the essay, I couldn't help but think back to him telling me he was smitten with me. He'd noticed my mind was preoccupied, so he took it upon himself to write a majority of the essay himself. 

I looked at the perfectly written essay, "There we go. And you're done." He said with a smile as he placed the paper on his desk to grade with the others. 

I smiled, "I appreciate that...But you didn't have to write it for me. I don't want to get you in trouble." I said softly. 

He shook his head, placing his hand over the top of mine. "No worries, love. Just keep this between you and I." He said softly as his fingers caressed mine. 

I nodded, giving him a smile before quickly thanking him and skipping out of the classroom to head home. As I'd driven home, I felt my phone buzz.

Professor Jackman: You left your pencil.

The text read aloud through the bluetooth in my car. I giggled, realizing he used my pencil as an excuse to text me. I grabbed my phone, texting him back. 

Me: Did I? Thank you for reminding me. I was distracted by a dreamy professor and must've forgotten it.

Professor Jackman: Touche... I would've forgotten my pencil too. 

I chuckled at his response before pulling up at home. 

As the semester went on, the Professor and I had become a little too close. He spent the remainder of the semester writing my essays, coming over for late night 'study sessions' at my apartment to ensure that I'd pass his class. The study sessions were typically spent with maybe 30 minutes of actual studying, with the remainder of the night spent cuddling and making out on my couch. Other students had begun noticing him start to favor me, which had begun causing problems. 

The one person I didn't expect it to cause problems with, was Bianca. She'd become increasingly suspicious. I was never available after class to hang out, or on weekends anymore. She noticed how I'd started purposely wearing low cut tops to class and how the professor would always praise me a bit more than the others and use me as the example student for a majority of demonstrations. 

"Enjoy it while it lasts, he's a creep!" She spat at me. 

I rolled my eyes, "Why are you acting like this? Were you not literally bending over purposely to get him to look at your ass?" I yelled back. 

She chuckled, "I was, but I guess I just wasn't good enough! It's all good though boo, I'm sure Principle Ayers would love to hear this." She said as she hung up on me. 

As I paced my apartment on the verge of a panic attack for the next hour, there was a knock on my door. I quickly ran to the door and opened it, seeing him standing there. I looked at him frantically, which caused his expression to go from a smile to a look of concern. 

"Love, what's wrong?" He asked as he quickly walked in, closing the door behind him. 

I took a deep, trembling breath, "Bianca is telling Principle Ayers." I said shakily, avoiding eye contact with him. 

He pulled me into his arms, "Did you tell her about us?" He asked as he stroked my hair.

I shook my head, "No. She figured it out on her own. And I think the last time she was here, she went through my phone..." I said softly. 

He sighed as he held me tightly, "I asked you to delete those..." He said, softly scolding me. 

I sighed, "I know, I know. I just wasn't expecting this to happen." 

He looked down at me, pulling away slightly to see my face, "Everything will be fine, love... We're both consenting adults. Yes, it's forbidden but the worst that can happen would be I'd lose my job." He chuckled, "I can easily find another." 

I looked at him seriously, "You're not worried about losing your job?" 

He smiled at me, "You're worth the risk, love." He cheekily winked at me before softly kissing my lips, "I love you." He said suddenly with a smile. 

I looked at him for a minute before responding, "I... love you too." I said, gazing into his eyes.

He smiled at me, blushing slightly, "I brought your favorite - Reese's Cups and a Dr. Pepper." He said cheekily as he handed me a bag that contained a pack of Reese's and a drink. 

I smiled as I grabbed it, "Aww, you didn't have to do that." I said giggling as I sat the bag down and sat down on the couch. 

He smirked, "I know they're your favorite and I wanted to surprise you." He said as he sat down beside me on the couch, pulling me into his chest. 

His phone began ringing, he grabbed it noticing it was Principle Ayers calling. 

"Mrs. Ayers." He said as he answered the call and gave me a 'stay calm' look as he turned the phone on speaker. 

"Mr. Jackman." She said before continuing, "There has been a situation brought to my attention that I need to speak with you about."

He nodded at me, "Yes ma'am, go ahead." He said calmly. 

She sighed through the phone, "Mr. Jackman, I hate to have this conversation with you, but it has been brought to my attention that you're having an inappropriate relationship with a student." 

He took a deep breath, laughing softly, "Mrs. Ayers, I can assure you that is simply not the truth." 

She chuckled, "This particular student has a history of not performing well academically... I did not necessarily believe her story, but I do have to investigate all accusations. The only thing I will tell you, is if there is a particular student that you're interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with,  please wait until the end of the semester when the student is no longer in your class." She said, knowingly. 

He nodded, "Ah. I do appreciate you for calling and informing me of the matter." He said simply as they ended the call. He looked over at me and gave me a small smile, running his fingers through his dark colored hair, "All good, love." He said matter of factly. 

I giggled as I squeezed him tightly before pecking his lips. "So we have exactly two more weeks of being a secret." I mumbled against his lips. 

He giggled against my lips, "I can assure you that after your semester ends, I fully intend on you no longer being my dirty little secret, sweetheart." 

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 7

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers + hurt/comfort

Content Warnings - cursing, mentions of nightmares

Word Count - 3.0k

A/N: this one feels a bit rushed and all over the place, but hey there's some slight warming up heree

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

You already had a bad feeling about this year.

Firstly, you were late to the train, then you couldn’t find Cedric in any of the booths so you had to sit in one by yourself. Your arm was still sore if you put it in a certain position. You couldn’t get in a comfortable enough position to sleep in the booth.

So you just laid on your back on the cushion, your feet up on the wall next to the window. You stared at the ceiling of the train, tracing the patterns with your eyes.

The door of your booth slid open, you raised your head and looked up a bit too happily, hoping it would be Cedric.

All you got was a mop of ginger hair standing there.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Fred grinned.

You sighed and dropped your head back down on the seat. You didn’t want to talk to him, but you didn’t want to be alone the rest of the ride back to the school.

Not giving him a verbal response, you lazily gestured to the seat across from you, signaling for him to go ahead. It didn’t matter, he was going to sit down even if you said no.

He shut the door and sat happily.

“I was wondering why Cedric wasn't sitting with you.” He laid his back against the wall, putting his feet up on the seat.

“You saw him? Where?” You looked over.

“Sitting with Ms.Chang.” He said in a dramatically eloquent voice.

Great.

“He’s got a damn obsession with that girl.” You huffed as you rolled your eyes, looking back at the ceiling.

“How’s your arm?” Fred said awkwardly, picking at his nails.

“Better. I think.” You sighed, you were bored, you were tired, you didn’t want to deal with Fred, but you didn’t want to be alone.

“That’s good. How many more weeks til it’s off?”

“Fred.” You said flatly.

“Hm?” He turned his attention to you, brushing back some hair from his eyes.

“Why are you here?” You stared at him.

“Thought you’d like some company.” He shrugged. You only stared at him, knowing that was not the reason.

“Well, George is talking to Angelina, and I thought I’d at least bother you on our first day back.” He cracked.

“You’re doing a great job.” The annoyance in your tone was clear, yet that was probably the nicest thing you’ve said to him. Ever.

Fred let out a small hum as he sat up quickly, pulling his backpack from off the floor and taking something out of it.

“Well, I was thinking about your broken arm, and that gigantic cast must be no help with writing, so…” He presented a long, rectangular, orange box with a purple ribbon tied around it to you. “I made you something that might actually help you.”

You pulled yourself up, looking at the box and taking it from him slowly.

He nervously smiled as you unwrapped it and took the lid off.

Inside the box laid a quill, with several small bottles of different colored inks.

“It’s a self writing quill.” Fred beamed.

“What?”

“A self-writing quill.” He emphasized each word slowly. “You tell it what you want it to say and it’ll write it for you.” He shrugged, crossing his arms smugly.

“That’s…impressive.” You began to smile, biting it back once you realized it could just be another one of the twins' sick pranks. “Does it actually work? Or are you just tricking me?” You glared.

“It works. Just like the bruise cream did.” He smirked. He noticed, all your bruises were gone by now, thanks to the cream. “You can try it out right now if you want to.” So you did.

You took a piece of paper out of a notebook in your bag, carefully opened and dipped the quill in a bottle of ink and spoke aloud.

“Fred Weasley is an asshole.” You said happily, the quill floated up and began to write the same words all by itself, the handwriting was exactly the same as yours, creepy, but cool.

You hummed in satisfaction at the writing.

“Not bad, Weasley.” He shrugged and laid down on the seat. He placed his backpack under his head and crossed his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.” He looked around, confused.

“You’re not staying in my booth! Go somewhere else!” You scoffed in disbelief, no way did he think you’d willingly let him stay with you.

“There is nowhere else.”

“Sit with George!” You cried.

“I don’t want to deal with him and Angelina flirting the entire ride.” He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to deal with you the entire ride!”

“If you’re so bothered by it, why don’t you find someone else to sit with? What about Cedric?”

“I got here first, you’re not gonna kick me out of my own booth!” You said sternly, like an angry mother, “Plus, I don’t want to deal with Cedric and Cho flirting the entire ride!” The side of Fred’s mouth slightly curled up at your last sentence. It took you a second to realize.

You two were basically in the same situation.

“Fine. You can stay.” You muttered, sinking back against the cushion. Fred began to open his mouth, but you pointed a finger up and stopped him.

“But, you will not talk to me. You will not play any pranks on me. And you will not bother me.” You clenched your jaw, he just smiled.

“As you wish.” He nodded, pulling out his scarf and placing it over his eyes, starting to nap right there.

You decided to try and do the same. It was fine and peaceful, you were on the verge of knocking out until he started snoring.

He would snore for a little bit, then stop, then snore again, then stop, and the cycle repeated.

Godric, you tried to ignore it, you tried to block it out, but ignoring Fred Weasley is impossible.

You called out his name, trying to get him to wake up, but he was dead asleep. He looked peaceful, so comfortable you almost didn’t want to wake him, but he was pissing you off.

You huffed out before grabbing the piece of parchment you tested the quill on earlier, you crumpled it into a ball and threw it at him.

It hit him right in the nose then fell onto the side of his neck.

He groggily removed the scarf from his eyes and blinked a few times, sitting up slightly and looking around with squinted eyes.

“Are we there already?” He rubbed his eyes.

“No.”

“Then why’d you wake me?”

“You were snoring. Loudly.” You stared at him with a straight face.

“Oh come on, I was not.”

“Was so!” You called back.

“I do not snore, you liar!.” He grimaced.

“Yes you do! You had your mouth wide open and everything!” You chuckled a bit.

“You looked like a dead fish!” You copied his pose from a few minutes ago, you slumped your head on your backpack, hung your mouth open, closed your eyes, and mocked his snoring.

“Oh, you’re just being ridiculous.” He laughed and threw the crumpled paper ball back at you. “Always dramatizing everything I do.”

“I don’t dramatize it! You’re just dramatic.” You laughed in return, throwing the ball at him again.

“Always so criticizing!” It became a battle between you two, bantering and laughing while throwing the ball back and forth at each other.

Soon the both of you got tired of messing around, you both laid in the same position on the seats. Backpacks under your head, feet up on the seat, arms crossed comfortably.

You yawned. It was getting dark and there were still a few more hours before you arrived at Hogwarts.

“I’m going to sleep. No pranks.” You threatened him. He lifted up his hands in surrender.

“No pranks.” He repeated. “But, I’ll see if you snore.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side and closing your heavy eyelids.

The screech of the metal wheels hitting the train tracks made you slightly stir in your sleep.

Two hands roughly shaking you fully woke you up.

“Hey, hey!” Fred called out, his voice still quiet, trying not to yell. You groaned and muttered, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“We’re here. Get up, sleepyhead.” He patted your shoulder, his bag was already hanging off one shoulder, you could see the students shuffling through the aisles.

You sat up and stretched, Fred had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What are you smiling so hard about?” You muttered.

“You’re a snorer.” He pointed at you, trying to stifle his grin.

“Am not!” You denied, grabbing your bag and shoved yourself in between students trying to get off the train. Fred followed suit.

“Oh you absolutely are. You go out like an old man!” He chuckled, beginning to make loud and dramatic snoring sounds.

You elbowed him in the side, he let out a small yelp and laughed some more, you bit back your smile, moving in front of him to walk down the train steps.

You made your way to get your luggage, only turning once towards Fred to get a final bite back at him.

“You drool. Did you know that?” You let out a playful scoff at him, a smile on your face and turning back around to walk away.

⋆⋆⋆

You hurried up the marble staircase to the entrance of the school. You were starving, all you wanted was something to eat and somewhere comfortable to sit.

A call of your name slowed you down, you turned your head to find Cedric catching up next to you.

“Cedric! Where were you? I couldn’t find you on the train!” You tried to mask over the frustration in your voice with sweetness, damn well knowing

“Really? Cause’ I was looking for you and um- I couldn’t find you anywhere!” He acted surprised.

“Hm, you wanna know who I was stuck with on the train-“ Your incoming rant was cut off when a large water filled balloon came speeding your way, hitting the ground and bursting at your feet.

You gasped as a small wave of cold water splashed onto your shoes and into your socks. You groaned and cursed.

Malicious laughter appeared from above you. You looked up to see Peeves the Poltergeist taking aim again at another group of students, McGonagall's voice boomed as she screamed his name, commanding him to get down as she chased after the ghost.

“Aw that’s a shame! We just witnessed Ron get hit with one right on the head!” George’s voice appeared from the side of you, laughing with Fred next to him.

“Better your feet than face!” Fred added on before George and him hurried on, shuffling through the crowd. You just rolled your eyes and grimaced.

Cedric’s attention was already turned to someone farther up in the crowd, Cho. Of course. He pardoned himself and promised to catch up with you more later, pushing past the crowd and speeding up next to Cho.

You uncomfortably continued on through the torch lit halls, cringing at the way your shoes squeaked with every step you took, until you were finally able to drop into a seat at the large wooden table in the Great Hall.

You were welcomed to sit by Katie Bell, who was sitting by Angelina, who was sitting across from the twins.

You could never get away from those bastards, could you?

You accepted the spot anyways, you’d rather have some type of company than none. Katie had always been kind to you anyways.

Dinner went nicely, the first years were sorted, you ate, compared your course schedules with Katie, finding out you had Charms with her and unfortunately Potions with the twins. Again. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher was introduced and the Triwizard Tournament was announced.

You saw as the twins' faces lit up in awe as the winning prizes were announced.

“A thousand galleons! You realize what with a thousand galleons!” George said, nearly bouncing up and down in his seat.

“Oh I’m going for it! I’m going for it!” Fred whispered excitedly.

"Eager though I know all of you will be," Dumbledore continued on, "the heads of the participating schools and the Ministry of Magic have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are seventeen years or older will be allowed to put forward their names." His voice was soon wiped out by several students that had made groans and noises of outrage, especially the twins.

Their expressions of excitement had changed into fury. They began to shout.

“That’s rubbish!” The twins exclaimed in unison, the room was filled

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Fred booed.

Dumbledore's voice shouted for silence and continued on with his speech. You looked at the displeased faces of the twins, you almost wanted to laugh at their scowls.

"They can't do that!" muttered George, glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?" He groaned.

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also frowning.

After Dumbledore was finished with the announcement, he dismissed everyone to bed. You walked with Katie and Angelina, trailing behind the twins, who were already speaking in hushed tones of a plan to get in the tournament.

⋆⋆⋆

The next few days were tiring, you were stuck once again in Snape's class with the twins, and you already had a large load of work to do with other classes.

The twins seemed to be giving you a break from being a victim of their tricks, too busy with whatever their plan was to get their names in the cup.

The quill they gave you came surprisingly in handy. However, not wanting their help, you still attempted to write by yourself, though your writing would come out messy.

You were just counting down the days until you could get that stupid cast off.

You'd lost count of how long it’s been since you haven't had a nightmare about that night. It was constant. Being scared awake in the middle of the night by your own dreams.

Tonight you weren’t able to sleep at all, especially after the horrid dream you had. Instead of continuing to toss and turn in bed, you decided to go down into the common room, maybe the fireplace would provide some comfort.

You were met with a mop of ginger hair, one of the twins already sitting on the sofa, a sketchpad in front of him.

Dammit.

You didn’t mean to sigh out loud, grabbing the attention of Fred. Who stopped and whipped his head around. His expression was a mix of surprise and confusion.

“Trying to sneak out?” Fred asked.

“Had a bad dream. Can’t sleep.” You said flatly as you began walking over to the sofa. There was no point in going back upstairs. You’d be stuck awake either way.

You sunk down into the empty side, criss crossing your legs.

“What’re you doing awake? Planning your next horrific prank?”

“Coming up with a new idea.” Fred grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “See for yourself.” He handed his sketchpad to you.

You took it hesitantly, only to be surprised by the detailed potion bottle drawn on the parchment.

You were utterly shocked, this was like a renaissance painting compared to the shit he drew for Snape's homework.

"You made this?” Fred shrugged and nodded. “This is fantastic…" You trailed off, taking in the well put in effort.

“Was that a compliment I heard?” He sounded genuinely surprised as his face lit up into a mischievous grin.

“Oh shove it. You can draw this but not a cabbage?” You scoffed, tossing his sketchpad in his lap.

It felt wrong to be talking so casually with him. So nice. You should be spitting insults at him right now, you should be being meaner, maybe you’re just too sleepy to bother.

“You know, I’m surprised you weren’t sorted into Slytherin with how crude you are.”

“I’m not crude! You’re just bloody annoying.” You huffed.

“Cabbage are boring to draw anyways. It’s fun when it’s original and something fantastic.” He grinned, using your niceness against you.

“You just can’t help it, can you?” You shook your head as you gave him an unamused look.

“Help what?”

“Being full of yourself.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be full of me?” He smirked, a dramatic seductive tone in his voice.

“God, you’re gross!” You grimaced. “Merlin, do not make me stab you with a pencil again.” You muttered to yourself, you could feel your eyes drooping and your body felt heavier.

You yawned before shifting in your soft, curling up and resting your head on the leather armrest.

“How’s your arm?”

“Better.” You said flatly.

“What was your dream about?”

“Nothing good.” Fred let out a small hum, taking the hint that you weren’t up for talking anymore.

The room was silent except for the sounds of fire crackling and Fred shifting in his spot.

“I can leave you be if you’d-” Fred began as he sat up, gathering his sketchpad and pencils.

“No, you can stay!” You cringed at how your voice pipped as you lifted your head up, you sounded way too eager, too desperate. Fred must’ve noticed it too, he looked at you with complete confusion, shocked you weren’t trying to shoo him away for once.

“I just…I don't want to be alone tonight.“ You mumbled, it came out more depressing than you meant for it to sound. You cringed at how pathetic it sounded.

“Well, we can just sit here for a while, okay?” There was a change in his demeanor, one you’ve never seen before. Such a soft tone, a reassuring look in his eyes.

“Okay.” You agreed silently, laying your head back down. Fred eventually went back to sketching. You stared at the blooming fire as your eyelids fell heavier and heavier. Eventually drifting off to sleep.

You awoke a few hours later, it was early morning, the sun just above to make its first appearance for the day.

The spot on the couch next to you was empty. There was a blanket draped over your body and a few chocolates sitting at the small table right in front of you.

tell me what you thought!

[selyeji]

little changes

pablo gavi x reader

summary : exchanging of words, despite he’s an athlete and you’re more reserved. you interpret life similarly. (uni au)

warnings : none

neatly gathering your pens, slowly dropping them into your pencil case, zipping it. closing your neat, thin notebook, waiting for the professor to wrap up the lecture.

you scan the room, the light brown haired boy at the corner of your eye. he sat straight and proper, focusing on the board. he was indeed good-looking, curls perfectly combed, well dressed. it wasn’t a question why he was so well known. snapping from your thoughts when he turns his head around.

lecture was over, stacking your scattered notebooks on the table, slipping it onto your messenger bag. placing it over your shoulder but rested at your opposite hip. you walked around the campus, deciding what to do to pass the time.

it ends in the same destination, the library. it was your comfort space, everyone respected each others privacy, the air conditioning cools the entire place and it was quiet. sitting 2 seats away from the window, to avoid sunlight.

grabbing your notebooks, reviewing the lecture from earlier. your notes were neatly done, thin letters from the mechanical pencil you used, neutral color highlighters to bring attention to important details. spinning the pen your finger, rereading until an hour passed by. you could barely focus, you couldn’t point your finger on why. deciding to take a walk around, to refresh your mind.

the campus was big, greenery covered most of it. you continued to walk around, you were too familiar of the continuous routes you take everyday. until you were met with something unexpected, not in your routine.

there kneeled pablo gavi, on the grass, teeth gritting, brows furrowed. he had a scar on his shins, really bad, the blood gathered up, reddening the skin. the keychains on your bag stop while he continued to groan. walking up to him, pulling out your arm before doubting yourself whether to help directly him or not. pablo noticed you before you could even do anything.

“y/n… im glad you’re here. could you help me go to the clinic?” his expression immediately softened from his aching face when he faced you. “yes of course.” you said in a firm but soft voice, almost like writing with a pencil.

continuing the walk to the clinic, you pondered how he knew your name. you two never talked before, your lives never clashed together. pablo couldn’t talk much, he was still aching from the pain.

entering the door, the cool air hits your face, the smell of hospital alcohol filled your nostrils. the front desk was empty, deciding to leave pablo on the beds to find a staff. you look around, still no one to be found. slowly walking back to the bed where pablo sat at the edge at, showing clear discomfort in his face.

you knew the infection would get worse, staring at his wound. you had no choice but to help him yourself. grabbing the alcohol and cotton balls from a shelf, you sat on the sit next to the bed, facing him. “stay still, i’ll help cover it up. it will sting a bit.” you softly said, looking up at him. the window next to the bed reflected sunlight at his face.

his features became more defined. the properly combed curls from earlier was faded, strand of hair stuck to his face from sweat. the light glowed his eyes, brown hazel pearls gleaming through his dark long lashes. thick brows making his face more masculine.

you continued applying the alcohol, cleaning up the blood. he spoke up, asking about various things, whether they were related or not. it moved from how he got hurt, sports, activities, food, anything. no matter the topic was, it felt like it would never end, talking forever.

you wrapped up the wound tape around tightly. he smiled from above, thanking you. you packed up your things until pablo stopped you before leaving.

“wait y/n… i was wondering if… we could meetup again. tomorrow. just by the lake where you found me, on the benches.” his joy radiating through his words. you quietly agreed, smiling back at him. walking back to your dorm.

23 hours passed since the incident, you walk up to the meeting spot. pablo was already there, sitting one of the benches awaiting for your arrival. you quietly sat down next to him, turning his head to face yours and gave a soft smile. “why did you want to meet up?” you went straight to the point, “just wanted to be your friend, when we talked yesterday. the words spilled out my mouth, im usually cautious of what i spoke. but with you, i was comfortable. it’s like we can talk for hours without an end. despite us being opposites.” pablo said, hint of embarrassment from what he said.

from then on, you met up everyday, occasionally visiting the football practice with him. he was the universities star in football, he brought that title with him throughout the entire school. popularity was something he could not avoid. a boy approached you during the practices, it was one of pablos teammates.

fermin, one of the more popular players within the school. he was charming, smart, well known with the girls. you never exchanged words before until he often saw you in the field. approaching you mid practice, cleats still covered with cuts of grass. he was being flirtatious with you, but still soft.

feeling the gaze of gavi on the field. no matter the distance nor the height of grass, his eyes were on you, leaving a trail of touches even though he doesn’t use his hands. before you knew it training was over, helping pablo pack his things.

this was a daily routine now, walking alongside gavi back to dorms, talking about your day. “right, i forgot to mention. fermin asked to meet me tomorrow by the coffee shop down the street. you know why?” you ask pablo. the keychains hanging from your bag still jangling while walking. his heart mentally frozed but his feet still kept going forward, not stopping his steps. “i’m not sure… sorry…” his tone was quiet, gavi knew exactly what would happen.

fermin would confess his love to you, he unfortunate knew the result. you would say yes. who wouldn’t? he was a great friend and a guy. he reached your dorm as you went inside, thanking him for accompanying you. pablo went to his dorm, rushingly opening the lock. laying on the lower bunkbed, staring which was met with the mattress on top.

it was foolish he would’ve thought you two would be together. your dreams were widely different from his, but your soft personality was different from everyone else. gavi always offered a jacket when the rain splashes down from the ashy sky, carrying you back to your bed whenever you slept, always gentle to you. his spot in your life would be taken and replaced.

afternoon came around, everything was a haze. fermin just confessed feelings you cannot give back, your heart was set for someone else. he was disappointed indeed, but he respected you, your decision before leaving the cafe. you sat alone, chatter spilling out your ear to the other in the cafes busy hours. deciding to go to a nearby bridge.

the sound of footsteps of your leather shoes taps the ground, repetitively until you saw him. pablo with his navy blue hoodie, covering his brown hair. you continue going up to him, standing next to him to view the river. the sky was a gloomy but comfortable blue, insisting the rain about to pour.

you two both stare at each other for a while, takin in each others presence. “what happened back there?” gavi asked about fermin and you. he thought that only confirmation would help him let go of you. you folded your hands on the railing, using it as a pillow for your chin.

“he confessed his feelings to me, but i rejected him.” you said, more in a coldly tone. gavi was confused, why would you? “but why? he’s a great guy, smarter than me, better at football, a gentleman too. wouldn’t you want someone like that?” he asked, his brow curving.

“but i have you.” you say softly. silence, only the honking of cars could be heard behind you. your heart fluttered, there was nothing you could do to turn back. “i mean… sure you view him better than you, but i don’t love him like i do with you.” he couldn’t say anything, the words stuck to his chest, not even reaching his throat.

you never said anything out of impulse, always giving it a long thought but this one was different. your heart throbbing in your ears thinking you made him uncomfortable, unable to receive back those feelings. “im sorry, i don’t know how to keep silent, especially when my heart is speaking.” you said quietly, removing your head and hand from the railing. wanting to flee the scene before the tears catch up to the rain.

knuckles were softly held and pulled by pablo. not wanting for you to leave. the small drops of rain trickle down, felt by your hands. “y/n please stay.” he said hurriedly before words spilled out his tongue. “the day when we started talking, the memory stood by my chest even until now. i want to be a part of your life y/n. no matter what situation it is i will be there.” his voice was pleading.

the rain got heavier by the second, but it wasn’t as important than what stood in front of you. his hands gripped onto your shoulders to face him. slowly bringing your hand up to his flustered cheek, circling your thumb around. gazing into his eyes, almost seeing yourself in them.

his soft lips meet yours, wet from the rain. hugging your arms around his neck, not caring who would pass by. your lips separate from each other, you hid your head onto the crook of his neck. “let’s just go home.” you softly said, your lashes fluttering could be felt on his neck.

daily click to help palestine

a/n: got writing block while doing the reqs ermm sorry… that fermin or joao felix fic coming up though

[creweemmaeec11]

Dark Horse Painted White Part 3

Pt 1 Pt 2

Hero couldn't help the feeling of guilt clawing at their throat. They were at such a loss! They'd tried so hard to be nice to civilian this morning, but it was as if the nicer they were, the more Civilian seemed to hate them! They didn't understand what they'd done so wrong!

Despite their loss of appetite, hero ate their omelette to avoid being rude, before doing the dishes like they'd promised. They wiped down the table, and even spotted a broom behind the fridge they used to sweep.

When their civilian host still wasn't back yet. Hero awkwardly lay back down on the couch, not daring to touch anything else they might get in trouble for. It was very rare they ever got the opportunity to sleep in like this, nevermind have free time. What should they do? It's not like they had time for any hobbies. What did normal people do with time off?

Hero continued staring at the ceiling. They'd checked their phone a half dozen times. No new assignments or instructions from their boss. They hadn't even gotten any paperwork passed off to them yet. They received nothing but radio silence, all their time meant to be dedicated to protecting the Civilian.

Finally, after what felt like hours of staring at the wall, hero heard the door at the end of the hall open and the clacking of claws approach. Immediately, they sat up to attention.

Civilian rounded the corner, holding a notebook and a pen but their eyes stayed trained on their phone as they typed with their other hand.

"Here," they said, tossing the two items onto the coffee table, "make a list of stuff you want picked up at the grocery store,"

"Wait, what?"

"Food, hero," civilian deadpanned, "unless you plan on eating all of mine while your here?"

"N-no, of course not! But-"

"Then get to writing," they quipped, before turning and heading to the kitchen.

Despite their confusion, hero did as they were told, writing down a list of things they could think of that didn't take much preparation.

Civilian came back a few minutes later, looking at the hero expectantly.

They stood up off the couch, handing the notepad back to their host, "Please let me pay, for all of my stuff at least-"

"Do you have cash?" Civilian asked as they started typing on their phone yet again.

"Only $20, but I can send you the rest-"

"The twenty is fine," they replied. They weren't giving the hero any sort of link to their accounts. Civilian's eyes finally left their phone screen to begin reading the list. Something in their face seemed to shift as they read the items.

"Is something wrong?" Hero asked nervously.

"We just have a much simmilar palette then I would have expected," they replied, tone a mix of begrudging and in awe.

Hero wanted to ask why, but they bit their tongue, "are we going to go pick this stuff up?"

"No, I'm having a... uhm, *friend* pick it up for me," Civilian replied, snapping a photo of the notepad before dropping it back down on the table.

"So, what are we going to do today then?" Hero questioned.

"Nothing," the other replied, tucking their phone back into their pocket.

"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?"

"As in we aren't doing anything..." Civilian explained in confusion, "I canceled my plans,"

"But..." hero hesitated,"what should I do then?"

The civilian bit back the comment of telling the hero they should leave, if not for it being a waste of breath, then for how genuinely confused the hero sounded, "Uhm... I don't know? Whatever you want? You didn't bring anything with you to keep you occupied?"

Hero looked a bit perplexed, "uhm... no? Should I have?"

"Well... I would have thought so... never mind. It doesn't matter. I'm sure you can find something on TV at least,"

"Oh, yeah okay, sure,"

"Queen," Civilian whistled, "remote,"

Hero watched in wonder as the large white dog ran to grab the remote, bringing it over to the Civilian.

"Good girl," they praised, taking the item from the dogs mouth, "Tell me your favourite channels and I'll find their numbers for you,"

There was a beat of silence. The lack of answer caused the Civilian to glance over at the hero with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"I... I don't know.... I'm not familiar with any of the different channels. I haven't watched anything other then the news in years,"

Civilian's face simply shifted into even more confusion, "uhm.. okay... well you can get youtube on this TV too. Do you watch anything on that?"

"Uhm, no... I don't think so," hero shifted awkwardly, "Maybe you could reccomend something?"

"Uh..." Civilian stuttered, suddenly strangely flattered hero would trust their judgment and taste to make a suggestion.

They cleared their throat. Nothing coming from a hero was any sort of compliment.

There was no way they were going to be sharing their actual preferences with hero!

"Yeah, sure I guess," Civilian shrugged. They'd share shows they thought were okay, but not their favorites. "But what do you even do in your spare time?" They asked as they navigated through the channels on the TV.

"Uh, well," they chuckled dryly, scratching the back of their head, "I don't exactly have a lot of spare time. Evil never rests as they say, and that usually means neither do I,"

Civilian internally rolled their eyes. What a drama queen. There was no way hero wasn't exaggerating. Because sure, this city did have it's fair share of criminals, but there was no way a major crime took place nearly every day. Three times a week, max.

"Plus, if the city holds any big public events, I always need to be there in case a villain decides to show up. That mixed with all the press conferences, fan meet and greets, training, street watch, you know... and any time I have leftover gets used up by finishing all the paperwork the other officers don't get done," the hero gave a forced laugh again, "in fact, I think this morning was the first time I've gotten to sleep-in in..." they blinked, "I can't even remember..."

The hero glanced up, realizing they'd been rambling and were about to apologize but the look on the Civilian's face made them stop.

Civilian was looking at them with an incredulous, shocked expression.

"Of course it's all worth it!" Hero sputtered.

"Sounds like you need to put your foot down" Civilian scoffed, turning back to the tv. So what if they'd been wrong about hero's daily life? Just because they didn't live like royalty? If anything, heros probably deserved to be working so hard, for all the problems they caused, it served them right not to have any free time! If they wanted to throw their life away for some meaningless agency, what did villain care?!

"Maybe you're right, but.... I'm a bit of a people pleaser" hero chuckled again.

Civilian side-eyed them, "you don't say," they scoffed, before carelessly tossing the remote next to the hero on the couch, "Give this channel a try for now. If you don't like it, just change the channel till you find something,"

"W-wait!" Hero sputtered, quickly jumping to their feet.

Civilian's feet regrettably stuttered to a stop. They turned their head, glancing over their shoulder at their unwanted guest.

"What?" They snapped, failing to hide the annoyance in their tone.

"Where are you going?"

"To my room?"

"But... I'm supposed to keep an eye on you? I can't really do that if you're in the other end of the house with the door closed..."

Civilian grumbled. That had been the entire point.

"Fine, I'll work in the kitchen," they amended, before heading to their room to gather a few things.

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

The house had been quiet for the next few hours, the only sound being the soft murmur of the wTV in the other room, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Hero immediately jumped to their feet.

"Please, let me get it!" Hero asked quickly, coming up behind the Civilian who was about to open the door, "just in case,"

Civilian rolled their eyes, scoffing under their breath, but they didn't argue, stepping aside to let the hero grab the handle.

The door opened to reveal no one, only multiple grocery bags on the front step. The hero poked their head out further, looking around, but they couldn't see anyone.

"Uh..."

The Civilian didn't say anything, instead pushing past them to begin bringing the bags inside. Quickly, the hero scurried to help.

"Was that your friend?"

"No, my groceries just teleported onto my doorstep," Civilian replied sarcastically as they began taking things out and putting them onto the counter.

The hero chuckled humorously, "No, I mean, where did they go? Why did they run off so quickly?"

"Maybe supervillain got them,"

"What?!"

Civilian gave them an incredulous and unimpressed look, "they were *busy* hero," they explained, rolling their eyes.

"Oh, right," Hero replied, clearing their throat awkwardly, "Well, it sure was nice of them to pick up everything for you,"

*that's what they get paid for* civilian thought to themselves.

Once everything was put away, they let out a sigh.

"I need to take Nova and Queen out for a walk. Be ready to go in half an hour," Civilian stated matter-of-factly before disappearing down the hall and into their room.

[realisticjupiter]

Hiii I hope you're doing well this fine evening:) I was wondering if you can write chishiya that notice this one beach resident (reader) that keeps staring at him and at first he thinks that she's planning some evil schemes or something but no he just finds out with his super detective skills she's drawing him. Alot. And ends up confronting her about it. Thank you sooo much xoxo.

ꔫ ⸝⸝ summary: chishiya always seemed to catch you in the act. what was the act? he needed to know.

ꔫ ⸝⸝ pairing: chishiya x gn!reader

ꔫ ⸝⸝ genre: fluff

ꔫ ⸝⸝ warnings: none

ꔫ ⸝⸝ word count: 931

A/N: this was a little rushed but i hope you still like it!

It started off as what Chishiya hoped to be a coincidence. When he'd catch your gaze and you'd walk away; like a guilty dog.

He could tell you've gained more confidence when you'd stare right back at him and continue the soft movements of your wrist on the notebook you had laid on your lap.

Then it became more frequent, like you'd been following him and knew everywhere he'd be.

At some point he thought he was the one following you.

He couldn't pull away when he saw you again. Up on a balcony with the ability to look at every other beach resident, but every time you looked up--your eyes were on him.

He had given you the nickname 'Stalker' when talking to Kuina about it. And Kuina happened to be the one who put the paranoid thought that you were plotting an evil scheme against him.

Honestly, it could make sense. The constant writing, the more frequent encounters. What else would it be?

Chishiya, the curious cat. Far too curious for his own good the way he made his way back inside the Beach. Fast and large footsteps going towards where he saw you. Hoping he'd catch you before you'd disappear again.

But just with his luck, the chair you once sat in was empty. He took smaller steps to walk deeper inside the balcony, looking down to see your perspective.

Chishiya turned around, eyeing the chair that he wanted to stuff in an evidence bag and get it tested for anything and everything to figure out who you were.

He kneeled down, bringing his hand out to grab onto the black piece that felt like chalk on his fingers.

It was charcoal. Why did you have charcoal?

And as smart as Chishiya was. He now realized every theory he had, was now wrong just by this small piece in his hand.

He stood back up, studying the charcoal under his intimidating gaze as if it would talk to him with words.

You were an artist. At least, that's what it seemed like. Someone plotting on his demise wouldn't be writing a plan in charcoal. But rather draw a picture, like a face they could see daily.

That was his face.

Now he really wanted to find you; more than before. He wanted to ask you if he was right, and then maybe you'd show him your art with a smile.

He thought about that charcoal piece since he had woken up. And he realized maybe he could see the way other people viewed him, outside of his life and onto a piece of paper.

Catching you in the act seemed easy in his mind. He went to the same place every morning, and he'd see you there too. But instead of being on his side of the room, he'd sneak up behind you. Startle you, then help you up before taking that charcoal piece out of his pocket and into your view.

Sometimes he scared himself how easy it was to predict other people's moves, it felt like he had some sort of superpower.

Because that's exactly what happened.

You jumped to the sound of his voice, "Stalking again?" His voice husky, but soft as he spoke with a grin.

"Maybe?" You spoke as if it was question towards him, afraid you had made him uncomfortable.

"Maybe?" His grin grew larger when he quoted your words back to you, bringing out that charcoal piece you left behind.

You put on a shy smile when you saw it, reaching your hand out to grab it before he pulled away.

"It took me a while to find out what you were doing." Chishiya spoke, looking around your body to try and spot that notebook you carried around.

"It's only fair you show me what you were really doing." He cleared his throat after the words left his mouth, his eyes going back to yours to study your expression.

"That's true..." You chuckled, "I guess that is fair." You sighed, taking the notebook out of the satchel that rested on your body.

You handed it to him. You didn't need to show him a certain page, the entire notebook was just filled with him and maybe someone who was standing beside him if you got bored.

He noticed a few of him and Kuina, noticing the perfect strokes of led or charcoal that stained the white pages.

"These are better than I thought they would be." He hummed honestly, slowly flicking through the pages and taking in everything they offered.

"Thanks." You nodded, "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable... Or anything. I'm not good at talking to people. And you're quite satisfying to draw." You explained through a nervous lump in your throat. Your fingers fidgeting with each other as they rested above your thigh.

"I'm not uncomfortable." He shook his head, finally peeling his eyes away to look at yours. "I thought you were trying to kill me at first." He shrugged, looking back down.

"Oh," You nervously laughed, trying to wait patiently for him to hand it back.

"Where'd you learn how to draw?" He asked curiously, finally closing the notebook and handing it back to your shaking hands.

You shrugged, "Just something I taught myself over the years." You explained, stuffing the notebook into your bag.

"If you ever draw me again, you should show me." He wasn't suggesting it, he was hoping it.

You nodded before watching him walk away, only realizing he hadn't given the charcoal piece to you until he was out of sight.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

[dorlilymylovesss]

James wanted to rip Regulus to pieces. The sight of his perfectly pressed clothes, the way he held himself with an untouchable air, as if the whole world was beneath him, made James's blood boil. But it wasn't just Regulus, it was the whole Black family. They treated Sirius like he was nothing, like he didn't matter.

The Blacks had nearly broken his best friend, twisted him to the point where he had almost stopped being himself. Sirius struggled to break free of his family's suffocating grip, and James had been there every step of the way, picking up the pieces they'd broken.

And now Regulus stood before him, the epitome of everything James despised. The same blood, the same name, the same privileges that had turned Sirius' life into a nightmare.

If James had the chance, he wouldn't even look at him or sit next to him. But today, unfortunately, he was forced to be alone with him in the same classroom.

He had two choices to ask for help in potions from Severus Snape or Regulus, both of this variants were terrible, but he had to choose Regulus because Snape would rather rip his head off then spent his time on him. But Regulus, to his surprise, had accepted his offer and agreed to help him.

James sat stiffly beside Regulus, every muscle in his body tense. He could barely believe he was in this situation, forced to rely on the one person he wanted nothing to do with. The classroom felt too small, the air too thick, and the silence between them was suffocating. Regulus, with his immaculate appearance and that infuriating calm, didn’t seem the least bit bothered.

"Do you understand this part?" Regulus asked, his voice as neutral as ever, pointing at a complicated section in their Potions book.

James gritted his teeth. He wanted to snap, to tell Regulus where he could shove the Potions textbook, but he needed to pass this class. And no matter how much he hated it, Regulus was good at this.

"Yeah," James muttered, not looking at him, though the truth was he didn’t understand a thing.

Why had Regulus agreed to help him in the first place? James couldn't understand it, and it was eating him. He wanted to believe it was some twisted game, Regulus's way of showing his superiority over him, of making him feel obligated and stupid. But as they sat in silence, Regulus didn't gloat or mock him. He simply explained the essence of the potion with a calmness that made James grit his teeth.

"You seem a little confused, but that's alright, this potion isn't as complicated as it seems. I have a book that should explain its nature perfectly. Wait here, I'll be right back to get it."

James nodded curtly, his eyes following Regulus as he walked away.

As Regulus disappeared through the door, James slammed the book shut and rubbed his temples.

And that's when he noticed the small notebook that Regulus usually always carried with him, on the table.

He had always wondered what he was writing in it. Perhaps he was describing some forbidden dark spell that could make a person suffer like crucio. Or something worse.

Curiosity took over. When Regulus was out of sight, he hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the notebook. It was small, bound in green leather, with a snake-shaped clasp that closed it securely. God, how corny. His fingers fumbled with the clasp, and he briefly considered the possible consequences of invading Regulus' private thoughts. But the curiosity was too strong.

He managed to open the notebook without a sound, and he stared at the pages in utter disbelief.

The first page had a drawing of Sirius sitting by the fireplace.

Next was a picture of a smiling Barty and Pandora, drawn with colored pencils.

Continuing to turn the pages, James saw more intimate drawings - scenes from different places, moments that seemed to have great meaning to Regulus. Notes were scribbled in the margins, observations about each person and snippets of thoughts.

When he reached a particular page, his eyes rounded. It contained a picture of James himself. He was standing in his Quidditch uniform, holding broom with his hand.

He flipped to the next page, hoping to find something to dismiss the drawing as just a picture with no deeper meaning, but instead he found something more. Regulus drew various moments that seemed to revolve around him - James' triumphant expression after winning a match, his laughter during a joke, even the quiet, pensive look he often wore when he thought no one was watching him.

His hands trembled slightly as he flipped to the last page of the notebook, which was different from all the others. It was completely filled with his name.

James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James, James

James's mind raced.

Was Regulus in love with him?

The door creaked open and Regulus appeared with the same neutral expression on his face that he always had. James, who only moments ago had slammed the notebook shut and thrown it back on the table, sat with a flushed face. Regulus didn't seem to notice the change in the surroundings on the table, he simply set the book aside and continued explaining the potion.

"Are you alright?" Regulus' voice was even, almost too calm, as if he didn't notice the storm raging inside James.

James answered as calmly as he could without giving away the chaos inside. "Yeah, just... just need to focus."

As the lesson dragged on, James couldn't escape the feeling that the dynamic between them had shifted irreversibly. The notebook had opened a door that James wasn't sure he wanted to walk through, but now that it was open, he couldn't ignore the new, uncomfortable reality.

"If you need any more help with Potions," Regulus said in a measured tone, "Just let me know.

Their lesson was already over, which made James sigh in satisfaction.

The moment he was outside the classroom, he leaned against the wall, trying to clear his head.

[veritas-scribblings]

more - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1,260

[technically a follow-up from yesterday's 'safe', but can be read independently]

Regulus has taken to hiding in his bedroom, the smallest bedroom in the Potter house down the hall from James and Sirius. From the yard, where James will sit with Sirius on days when it is not cold and raining, James will often see Regulus sitting on his padded bench in the bay window of his bedroom reading some book or other. Writing some thing or other in his many notebooks. Sometimes just staring. Observing.

Plotting?

James worries about all of this, which is nothing new because he’s just prone to worry. He worries about Regulus isolating himself. He worries that Regulus is being deprived of sun, because Regulus inherited the Black Family affliction of pale skin and probably requires a significant dosing of Vitamin D.

And he worries that Regulus is ignoring him. Shutting him out. Though he will not say why.

Rationally, James knows that Regulus is concerned about Sirius’s reaction, given how over-bearing Sirius has been since they left Grimmauld Place. He’s not really ignoring James; he’s just being cautious.

But the memory of Regulus is seared into his brain. Regulus sneaking around the castle with him, kissing him in little nooks and hidden corridors. Regulus spending hours talking to James about nothing and everything, laughing, poking fun, insulting James, comparing notes on quidditch, telling James stories, telling James his hopes and dreams. 

He remembers Regulus’s warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin, the touch of his hands running over James’s body, the press of his lips on James’s neck doing wonderfully wicked things. The memory of Regulus’s body pressed against his, against places no one else has ever touched, making James feel in ways no one else has ever made him feel. Making James produce sounds he’s never produced for another person.

‘Oi!’ 

James jolts in alarm when Sirius elbows him hard in the side. Warmth flushes his cheeks, and James quickly looks away hoping that his embarrassment isn’t visible. He’s thought of Regulus many times over the days they’ve been home from Hogwarts. Sometimes late at night when he’s in bed and the thoughts turn into fantasies and he wonders, imagines, what it would it would feel like if…

No. Good Merlin, he can’t go there. Not right now. Not right now, when Sirius is right beside him and he can feel the heat rushing through his body to parts that are rapidly taking an interest. James cringes and turns away, trying to conjure disgusting images as quickly as he can, because this is all just going to get so damned awkward.

Snivellus naked. Snivellus naked. Snivellus naked.  

‘Prongs!’ When Sirius goes to whack him again (James remembers being whacked by Regulus, how wonderful that had been), James quickly shifts out of the way. 

‘Huh?’ Laying on the grass, propped up on his elbows, James looks back up at Regulus curled up in his bay window staring down at them. ‘What do you think he’s doing?’

Sirius shrugs. ‘Dunno. Writing love letters? Writing sad boy poems? Plotting to take over the wizarding world? Actually…!’ Sirius sits up, grinning like he’s suddenly found the secret to world peace. ‘Hey, you can ask him!’ At James’s confusion, he gesticulates wildly. ‘Who it is!’ he clarifies. 

‘Who what is?’

Sirius hunkers down and leans over so close to James, who is still laid back on his elbows, that it leaves weird, awkward, fluttering feelings in James’s stomach. Like drunken moths trying to find a light that just isn’t there.

‘The filthy, no good, two-bit rat who is sniffing around my brother. You can ask him, he’ll tell you. I hear he’s a real…what’s the word Marlene used…playboy. I think it means he’s a whore. Like, the local town broomstick. Everyone’s had a ride.’

Excuse me? James tries not to gawp, but he’s in no way ‘the local broomstick’. Sirius has slept with more people than James has, because James has slept with a great big whopping zero of people. That’s just not who James is. He wants it to be special. He wants it to be someone he loves. Call him a romantic or whatever; James knows that it’s not ‘cool’ of him, only he doesn’t care.

Maybe, just maybe, that special someone he loves will one day be Regulus.

‘I wouldn’t say he’s a broomstick,’ James mutters, ‘the person “sniffing around your brother”.’ 

Sirius cocks an eyebrow in a way that reminds James so much of Regulus. ‘You know who the dirty rat is?’

‘No, no. Just. It’s Regulus. Like Regulus is going to let a…filthy, no good, two-bit rat…around him. He has standards, doesn’t he? He’s too clever and proper and dignified for that.’

‘Right,’ Sirius says firmly. His eyes narrow suspiciously, and he leans back, stares up at Regulus in his window. ‘Well, they’d better not. Regulus is too innocent for any of that. He’s still a baby.’

James breaks out into a grin, unable to withhold the laughter that bursts free from his chest. ‘Regulus Black is in no way “innocent”, Pads. There is nothing innocent about your brother!’

’He is too, Prongs. What are you implying?’ Sirius shoves James hard, and James goes tumbling onto the grass heaving with laughter. ‘What are you calling my brother, you little shit.’

‘Not innocent, is what I’m calling him!’ James giggles. There had been no reservations in the way Regulus had manhandled James. James knows that Regulus has never had a relationship before. And as far as James knows, Regulus has never…’been with’…anyone before, or Sirius would have absolutely decimated the person who had dared to touch his little brother. 

But Regulus had been bold. He had been shameless. And had been certain in obtaining exactly what he wanted from James.

‘I’m just saying,’ Sirius hisses, standing firmly on the hill he is prepared to die upon. ‘I’m saying Regulus is sensitive. He has a gentle heart under all those thorns and prickles and shards of glass. He deserves someone who will handle him with care. He deserves someone good, someone who will be good to him. He can't afford to be hurt, Prongs.’

James nods vigorously in agreement. He knows this. He knows it because, he thinks, Regulus has started to show James his heart, and James feels blessed because Regulus does not trust easily.

But Regulus seems to trust James. So maybe James is enough?

‘Someone…you have to approve?’ James hedges.

‘Absolutely. My blessing is the number one requirement. I also expect applications in triplicate. Character references. Criminal history checks. 15-inch written essays on why they want to get within one kilometre of Regulus. They will be interrogated and reviewed by a jury of my peers.’ Sirius flops down onto the grass, his hair fanning beneath him. ‘So, you gonna talk to him for me?’

‘Sure,’ James says. 'I can talk to him for you.'

There’s a tiny spark of hope in his heart that maybe Sirius also thinks James is enough. That James is a good person who will take care of Regulus’s heart and handle Regulus with care. That Sirius will trust James with his little brother.

James will explain that he makes Regulus smile and Regulus makes him smile. He’ll explain that they laugh together and have fun together, that James listens to Regulus’s stories and his hopes and his dreams. That James thinks Regulus is brilliant and clever and cunning and sneaky and that this makes Regulus special. That James knows how brave Regulus is, and how bold, how kind Regulus can be.

And maybe Sirius will decide that James is enough. 

[hexname]

Hello!

Viktor teaching Jayce an under city custom and Jayce sharing Talis a family tradition in return? : )

Ty! ^.^

Since there was another request about them spending Holidays together and their relationship overall, I wrote a fic (should have been a oneshot but- oh well) about both, a bit of everything; Viktor meeting Jayce's mother, Jayce hearing about undercity, their first kiss, and more!

I'll put a part of the fic and, if you're interested, you can read:

Partners of science, partners of love

ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ

“I always remind Jayce to take well-deserved rest. A man needs at least six hours of sleep to function properly,” Ximena spoke to Viktor, “Perhaps he would listen to his partner instead of me since I know mother’s words are just a bother.”

Before Viktor could answer, Jayce opened his mouth and answered instead, “You’re choosing the wrong person to influence me. Viktor sleeps less than me, and never wants to do lazy mornings when I ask him to.”

Viktor smiled, well aware it was exactly like that, “Lazy mornings lead to lazy days. You can have as many lazy mornings as you want, but I am out of bed before the clock hits nine at most.”

Ximena smiled, possibly out of politeness since Viktor could notice that she was kind of disappointed that Viktor couldn’t be a good influence on her son, “However it might be, I am glad you have two weeks of break. Spend them well.”

And they did. They spent them quite well; with notebooks filled with different notes they would be writing until two A.M. and equations they would solve from time to time. Despite Ximena’s intentions, despite her saying they should take a deserved break, they couldn’t keep but think about new inventions and equations. For them, sitting and talking while sipping on their coffees was just as great as coffee and reading for other citizens.

Two days have passed. On the third day, Jayce’s mother asked if they would like some hot chocolate instead of coffee that afternoon, saying how they would always make some when the days were like this; cold and gloomy.And that is how they ended up in Jayce’s room, drinking their hot chocolates while Jayce was leaning on Viktor’s shoulder on the bed. When ending the talk about the equation they were working on, silence spread over a minute or so. That was until Jayce asked, “You know that man that I told you about? Who saved my mother years ago?” as he licked the spoon that he dipped into the chocolate.

“I do. What about him?” Viktor asked back, wondering where this conversation would be going. The first time they ever talked about it was a month or so after they started working together. However, then, Jayce said just the important parts, leaving out the details. With every other mention of it every few months, he would add those details to a story, explain further, and let Viktor hear what exactly happened.

“It happened around this time of the year, Christmas. Ever since then, my mom makes me, and herself, a cup of hot chocolate these days. She says that the warmth and taste of it reminds her of that day when her body was brought back to life,” Jayce elaborated, “Do you think Hextech could be used for some sort of heating?”

Hearing another one of many traditions in Jayce’s family, Viktor once again felt as if he should share some kind of tradition of his family in return. But there was a slight problem, a reason why he couldn’t do so, and that was that he never really had any traditions that could be worth telling except him making a star out of cardboard and sticking it onto the front door of his home. That deep in thought, Viktor didn’t even hear the last question Jayce asked him, just stared at his mug and mumbled, “Do you find me boring, Jayce?”

“Boring?” Jayce turned his head in his direction, raising eyebrows as if asking what kind of a question Viktor just asked, “Why would I? You have many interesting ideas and ways to solve different scientific questions. Your mind is as interesting as it can get. I never met someone like you before.”

Viktor sighed, and contemplated if he should have formed the question better and led this conversation into a direction of life instead of science. But Jayce being Jayce somehow can’t pick up on what he means, can’t read the room. So, Viktor simply smiled at his words, appreciating them, but had to clarify, “Science is one thing, life is another.”

Jayce let the statement hang in the air for a few seconds before sighing and answering, “Viktor. You have the most interesting lore I ever heard. You meant to tell me that coming here and simply getting into the academy one day isn’t interesting? That somehow having more experience before we ended up together doesn’t make you interesting and makes me wonder how the hell you did that because I myself barely was able to pull you. Everything about you is interesting. Your randomness is interesting. You’re interesting as a whole. Beautiful as a whole. Why would you ever think I would find you boring?”

Hearing that, Viktor couldn’t help but smile. Then again, life might be interesting, yet the family he never really had isn't. Upon those thoughts coming back, that small smile of his vanished once again once he raised his cup to take the sip of the hot chocolate that had more meaning than anything in his family.

After licking the chocolate that stayed on his lips, he answered, “Being from undercity, my family traditions are close to nonexistent. I feel like your mother expects me to talk more about myself, yet I cannot seem to do so. Every tradition I ever participated in was one of the undercity itself.”

Jayce once again let the silence overpower for half a minute, thinking about what he should say to comfort Viktor properly. He could say that he’s welcome to be a part of his family, yet his mother already made sure to tell him he’s, indeed, always welcome. But thinking about it, Viktor said there were traditions in the undercity of some sort, so perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to let Viktor know he’s free to talk about them. So, he chose that, answered back with: “Tell me about it,” and added, “If you want to,” to be sure that Viktor won’t be pressured into anything. To prove he was more than willing to listen, he raised his left arm and wrapped it around Viktor, straightened up, and pulled him closer.

[swannieluv]

Help with studies

pairing: Platonic!Tighnari x GN!Reader – wc: 900 – tw: peeling the skin off your lips, academic pressure – a/n: This is more of a personal thing I wrote. But I hope it can comfort someone who goes through the same thing <3. Sorry for any grammar mistakes </3– likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!!

Studying is hard, and it gets even harder when you don't know how to study in the first place. Being a good student throughout your whole life was somewhat… easy? You thought it was just the fruits of you paying attention to classes, but it wasn't exactly like that. Sometimes you would write, read the contents before the lecture even started, doodle on the desk, or think of whatever scenarios appeared in your mind.

With the textbook, full of images and descriptions written in a bold black font, open in front of you, desperation started growing. Why wasn't your brain just understanding the texts previously highlighted during class? You were sure you had understood everything when learning, yet it was like knowledge had disappeared from your mind.

You just kept staring absentmindedly at the page, as if nothing around you was happening. It was just a few minutes later that your state was interrupted by a voice calling for you: the familiar voice of Tighnari, one of the few you can call friend — though you're both often mistaken for siblings, for being often seen together.

“[Name]?” He was holding a pot with a small plant. That's right, you had asked him for a decoration for your desk, perhaps a change of air would help.

There were not so rare occasions in which you had to ask for his help. Tighnari’s way of explaining stuff was direct and left no space left for doubts, plus he always added extra information you missed during study sessions.

He left the plant next to a pile of notebooks before opening your curtains. “Look. I'm not a specialist, but I can't help but notice your troubled expression these days.”

You lost track of how many hours had been spent doing absolutely nothing. But the sunset was enough to remind you of the fact that nothing productive had been done and you were doomed.

“I don't know anymore, everything feels so… strange. I'm intelligent, right?” Tears gathered in your eyes before you looked up at him. “Please tell me I am or else I don't know what to do?”

Intelligence had been associated with you ever since childhood. It started by wanting to show off, talking about complicated things such as atoms, stars, and every other information you could reach. Then, getting medals and certificates for getting good grades.

Everyone talked about how good of a child you were, about how far you would go in the future. It felt wonderful looking at your twisted reflection on the back of the medals, as your parents patted the top of your head and praised your achievements, hanging it on the wall to show.

But as you grew up, the compliments stopped. Your success was predicted and there wasn't anything new in the golden painted medals of cold iron, now forgotten in the back of the drawer. Before you knew it, the habit of peeling the skin off your lips and the twist of your stomach had become your companions during tests.

As you joined the Akademiya, things suddenly changed. It was during the first year when you got the first bad grade ever, nothing too low, but not enough to be the best. Then, you cheated on a test for the first time and felt terrible.

It was during that time that you met Tighnari. He was paying the Akademiya a small visit when his ears caught on the sound of muffled crying, leading him to your hiding spot.

That was how you met Tighnari, being comforted by him as you cried in front of someone else for the first time. And for some reason, the two of you started bumping into each other too often.

“I know you want to be the best. But remember, you're a human being and just like everyone, you're prone to making mistakes every now and then.” He had a gentle smile on his face, before asking for permission to pat your head, which you gave.

“It's just… it's not only because of what the others will think, but also because I don't want to disappoint myself.” Your answer made your eyes tear up a little, alongside the beginning of a running nose that made you try to suppress those feelings back.

Tighnari took your hand, preventing you from wiping away those tears. “It's not healthy to keep it to yourself so… cry if you feel like doing so. I don't see anyone here who would judge you.”

And so, you cried. There was no other way to show your feelings, as the words you wanted to say never made their way out of your chest. But Tighnari didn't care if you told him everything or not, just wanting to comfort someone he can relate to.

Perhaps Tighnari didn't get along with you only out of sympathy, but because he did see his younger, overachiever, self in you. He didn't want you to go through the many frustations reserved on your way alone. And he knew that it was difficult to open up for anyone when being smart was one of the best qualities someone could have. But everything had a downside.

“Tell me what you need to understand, and I'll help you.” He kneeled and picked up a book on the ground, opening its pages to take a look before handing it to you. “It may not be exactly my field of knowledge but—”

“Tighnari,” you interrupted him with a tired, yet grateful, grin on your face. “Thank you.”

A sigh escaped from his lips before he reciprocated your smile. Things were difficult, but Tighnari would help you to at least get a decent grade; and what if you didn't? After all, a number can't define who you are or your potential.

[haihaihaitani]

The Bucket List ~ *Manjiro Sano*

Summary: It's another late night without Mikey. It seems this keeps happening. After spending so many nights worrying, you finally decide to take action. All it takes is a notebook and a pen to try and fix your relationship.

Pairing: Manjiro Sano X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot

Word Count: 2063

Warning: Mentions death, hurt to comfort

Masterlist

Taglist: @soulangel​

It was another late night and you were sick with worry. Mikey said he would be home at a decent time, but just like the last couple times he made that promise, he lied. So here you are, sitting at the kitchen table, wondering where he was. 

While you were panicking on the inside, you knew you needed to do something to take your mind off of things. That’s why you had a notebook and a pen before you. With a sigh, you picked up the pen and began to write. At first, your words were slow and unsure, but eventually you became more confident and sure with what you were writing. It was like the words were flowing out of you and you were determined to capture them all as quickly as they came into your head.

You were so absorbed in your little project that you didn’t hear the front door to your apartment open. You jumped when you felt Mikey gently put his hand on your shoulder. He gave you a small, yet sad smile. You returned the look before returning to your work.

He took the chair in front of you before softly saying, “I’m sorry.” When you didn’t answer, he spoke again. “How long have you been up?”

“I never went to sleep.”

“Oh, I see.” He mumbled, and you could sense him shifting in front of you as you worked. “What are you writing?”

With a sigh, you finally set the pen down, leaned back, and started to massage your hand that was beginning to ache. “I’m making a list, a bucket list to be exact.”

He looked at you suspiciously. “Can I ask why?”

“Well, I started thinking about the fact that you come home later and later each night.” You caught his wince at your words. “And as much as that bothers me, I know it’s who you are and I can’t ask you to give up your gang. So instead, I’m giving you an incentive to be careful and to always come home to me.”

Mikey’s eyebrows furrowed some more. “An incentive? What do you mean?”

You turned the list you were working on towards him. “These are all things I want to do with you before either of us die. I’ve already got a good start on the list, but I would love to hear your input as well.”

He took his time reading each item on the list. Occasionally he would ask clarifying questions, which you would answer, and he would return to reading. When he was done, he set the list down and stared at you for a long time. You weren’t uncomfortable under his gave. Instead of regarding you with contempt or sadness, he merely looked curious, almost as if he was thinking of what he would put on such a list. You gave him all the time he needed to make sure he had all of his thoughts in order.

“May I have the pen, please?” He asked quietly, holding out his hand to you.

You nodded and gave him the writing utensil. He stared at you again for a moment more before he began writing. You watched him write, unable to discern any of the words as he was hunched over the paper and it was upside down. Instead, you let out a slow, long breath from your nose and stood up.

This caught his attention and he gave an adorable, little pout. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to make us some coffee. Is that alright?”

“Oh.” He gave a sheepish nod before returning to his writing.

A small smile escaped you. Quietly, you slipped into the kitchen and started the coffee pot. As you reached for two mismatched mugs, you sighed. This isn't how you expected this night to go at all. You thought you would be curled up against Mikey as the two of you dreamed the night away in your warm and comfy bed. It made your heart hurt. You thought that you would be able to find a guy who would do normal, domestic things, like sleeping in the same bed or drinking coffee in the morning together. Normal things that normal couples do when they’ve been together for almost three years. 

But nothing was ever normal when it came to Mikey. You would never get to do normal, domestic things with him. You would never get to fall asleep together in the same bed. You would never get to enjoy a warm cup of coffee in the morning as you both sat in comfortable silence. He would always be away from home late, and come back with more wounds than you could count. You would always be terrified of whether or not he’d come back home alive, or if the police would finally arrest him.

As much as those thoughts scared you, you weren’t too upset with how tonight was going. Sure you didn’t think you’d be making a bucket list with your lover at the crack of dawn, but you were glad you were. With each item you put on the list, it was another reason for Mikey to come back to you, safe and sound. It was another day the two of you could be together, away from danger. And that made you feel a little better. At least you could try to work through this list together. Perhaps the more you completed, the more he’d want to spend time with you, away from his gang. Perhaps the two of you could be closer to what normal couples did.

Mikey tapped your shoulder again, causing you to jump. “The coffee’s done.”

“Oh, okay.” Carefully, you poured two cups and fixed your coffee to how you liked it, while Mikey drank his black.

“Are you done writing your list?” You asked as you sipped your coffee.

He nodded. “I have one more thing to write and then I’m done.”

“Alright.”

You followed him back into the dining area where you saw a long list of words. You weren’t ready to read what he wrote yet. You watched him write the last thing he wanted on the list before sliding it slowly over to you.

“There.” He mumbled. “It’s up to you what you want to keep or what you want to get rid of. I don’t care. I just kind of let it all out. None of anything I’ve written needs to be set in stone. I don’t mind.”

You nodded and gently picked up the notebook to read what was written. Nothing he asked for was super big and extravagant. If anything, it made you smile. He had simple wishes. Easy requests that you’d be more than happy to grant. It was a shame it took this long to figure that out. If you had known, then maybe you could have gotten to work on this list a lot sooner. Still, you were glad you were learning all of this now.

At the very bottom of the list, the smile you held inside broke to the surface. He had asked for more mornings enjoying coffee together. A normal, domestic couple moment. A moment that you wanted more than anything else in the world. He wanted it too. It made you so happy.

“Is it good?” Though Mikey’s voice was quiet, you could hear the eagerness of a child in it. “Do you like what I wrote?”

Looking up at him, you smiled and nodded. “Yes. I like what you wrote. All of this, we can do. We can work through this list with ease. I’m not worried about missing a single thing.”

“Yeah? That’s good.” He smiled a little and sat back in his seat. He finished his coffee before frowning at you. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t…”

“No, I need to say this.” He sat up again and took one of your hands in his. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. You don’t deserve any of it. You have always been there for me when I needed you most. But when you needed me, I was nowhere to be found. You didn’t ask for this life. You wanted me to be the perfect boyfriend and I’ve tried. But along the way, I stopped trying because things got too hard. You are worth trying for and I want to try again. That’s why I want to work on this bucket list with you. I want to do everything written here before we die with you. I want to try and be that perfect boyfriend again for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Mikey, don’t. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I first started dating you, so don’t act like I didn’t know. I knew how much the gang and the boys mean to you. I wasn’t going to get in the way of that. But you are right. One day, I don’t know when, it felt like you didn’t care anymore. But I still cared, I still love you. That’s why I put up with it all this time. I won’t lie and say what you did didn’t hurt. It’s going to take some time to rebuild that trust and get back to where we once were. But if you want to stay and you want to try again, I will be right beside you as we work through this, okay?”

He nodded, eagerness in his actions as he squeezed your hand tightly. “Yes, I want to try! I want to be with you forever. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the man you need, no matter what I have to do to achieve it.”

You smiled and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles. “Thank you for the apology, Mikey. I really appreciate it.”

“Are you sure it was enough? I don’t think-”

“It was enough.” You assure him. “It was enough for now. As we progress, your apology can be in the form of you trying, proving that you want to be with me. Then it will all be enough.”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough. You’re too good for me. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even worth everything you’ve done for me.”

“Hey…” You whisper, taking his face in your unoccupied hand. “Hey don’t say that! Don’t even think that! You’re more than enough, my love. Yes, you’ve dropped the ball on numerous occasions, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving you. I will always love you, no matter what you put us through.”

He gave a small chuckle. “You make it sound like I’m a bad boyfriend.”

You smile. “You have your moments. But you’re not the worst boyfriend in the history of boyfriends. You just need a little help from time to time. And I’m more than happy to be of assistance. I do it because I love you.”

“And I love you too.” He kissed the palm of the hand on his cheek.

You sighed before standing up and withdrawing your hands. “It’s late. We should go to bed. I’ll clean the mugs.”

“Just leave them in the sink, I’ll clean them in the morning.” Mikey took your hand gently. “Come to bed with me.”

You nodded and followed him into the bedroom. He changed into comfy clothes and you pulled back the covers for him to slide into bed. As soon as he was in bed, he wrapped his arms around you and cuddled you close. It had been so long since the two of you cuddled like this. Tears again appeared in your eyes and you blinked them away. You wouldn’t cry about how much you missed this. If you did, you would break his heart. Instead, you smiled and melted into his embrace. You wished that you could have more soft nights like this.

“What should we work on tomorrow?” Mikey mumbled, his voice thick with sleepiness.

“What?”

“On the list. What should be the first thing we do tomorrow?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle before shifting so you could kiss his nose. “How about I make coffee in the morning?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

“Don’t worry, we have the rest of our lives to finish this list together.”

He sighed and pulled you even closer. “That sounds absolutely wonderful.”