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all-about-seggs · 3 years

Text

Sultry Blues-

Rating: ❌18+, Explicit❌

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Insecure! Fem Reader

Word count: 2.5 k

Warnings: Trigger warning for insecurities (not specified), Body Worshipping, a bit of food play, cunnilingus, Semi-public sex.

The faint sounds of ringing bells from the shrine was still in the air as you made your way to the inner structure of the prestigious Jujutsu academy. The path to the meeting room was straight and lined with stone carvings which gave the entire place an ancient look. You had a lunchtime date with your boyfriend, who would, hopefully be on time so you could be on your way.

This place always made you uneasy, not because of the dangerous connotations it brought in everyone’s lives but it was the people who freaked you out the most. To you, each one of the teachers as well as the students looked like some characters straight from a book, elegant, strong and perfectly capable of doing things normal people like you could only read about. Not having enough confidence on yourself physically or mentally worsened every time it dawned on you that you were dating the most perfect being of them all.

Perplexing wouldn’t even began to describe your state of mind when Satoru first took interest in you, sure looks or status didn’t meant anything to him but even in terms of personality you never thought the two of you would get along, so much so that you would become such an irreplaceable part of each other. But you knew his feelings for you did nothing to stop the ache in your heart when you saw him getting ganged up on by a bunch of women. Women attractive than you, smarter than you and definitely stronger than you.

This was exactly the place where all those kind of women lived making you feel even more of an outsider in his world. Not wanting to cause Satoru any worries you tried to psyche yourself up by picking up your pace only to be met with a hard shoulder to your cheek.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking”, you looked up at the stranger, she was tall, her sturdy figure seemed like she was also a sorcerer but her ID pass was tucked on the breast pocket of her coat along with her youthful face indicated she was a student, you squinted to see that her name was Lisa and as you were about to apologise when you saw her sneer at you.

“ Ugh… outsiders. Don’t you know how to walk properly? Or did you not learn that in your no name school?”, her condescending tone took you aback.

You knew you didn’t exactly belong here but she wasn’t cutting you any slack for being a civilian either. You wanted to ask her why was she being so rude but your queries were cut off as by the girl.

“ No need to explain yourself I already know who you are, I’ve seen you following Gojo- San like a lost puppy a lot of times, seriously it’s like you don’t even have a presence without him.”, with a pause you finally thought her pointless berating would come to a stop but she went on.

“ He has a reputation to uphold here so don’t go around embarrassing him with your airheaded and average looking face”, now with THAT she crossed the line but as much as you wanted to give her a comeback all you anger turned into self loathing in a matter of seconds and you stood there dumbly not being able to defend yourself from the onslaught of verbal attacks that even you partially agreed with.

Not even bothering to look at her when she passed you thought about her mean words that were half untrue. You knew dating a popular guy would include more that just a little bit harmless envy of girls. At this point you’d be lucky if you didn’t get attacked by one of your boyfriend’s fangirl. But, It wasn’t about Satoru anymore, you thought. It was about how you were letting the jealousy of his superficial admirers who didn’t even knew only knew his name and face. Before you could delve more into your darkening thoughts you heard a cheery voice call out to you.

Bag at hand, which probably contained some sort of dessert you saw Satoru gleefully making his way towards you. It took you a few seconds to plaster a believable smile to your face so you could greet him normally.

“ Wow I can’t believe IM the one who had to wait around this time”, placing a tiny kiss on your nose he pulled you in for a hug, his warmth seeping into you put your mind at ease and help you distract yourself from the horrible encounter before.

“ The meeting was pointless and even the snacks turned out to be lame”, whining a little he waved the bag in front of you. A convenient store vanilla sponge cake with a packet of strawberry sauce was right in front of you and honestly if it were you, you’d probably eat it without question but knowing his love for quality sweets it was understandable why he’d complain.

“ Well actually, with the right toppings and modifications even convenient store packed cakes can taste top class!”, thinking about all the ways you’ve experimented watching diy food videos you started thinking up of ways to serve it to him.

“I see, that’s a good idea and I think it’ll give us some headstart for our date wouldn’t it?”, saying that he gestured you towards one of the buildings that lead to the back exit.

Walking hand in hand Satoru came to a stop which seemed like a closed off gate that was not in use anymore.

“ Why are we here? I thought the back exit was the other way around?”, confusion painted over you face you turned to face your mischievous partner.

“ you said you’d help me eat them, and I think it’s a pretty good place, don’t you?”, stepping closer he urged you to take a look around. The area didn’t have any benches, buildings or even people around and the only sound you could hear was the birds and the small artificial streams of river that flowed a few steps away from the closed off exit.

If Satoru was insinuating something you started to get the hang of it and you soon felt you face get hotter. The afternoon sun did nothing to help you cool down as you struggled to make sense of the situation. His hands were all over your body, caressing, pinching and feeling you up.

“ What’s wrong? Not up for it in semi public style?”, his breathy voice got lost in the crook of you neck where he inhaled your scent, “ you know nobody’s gonna come” with a slight push, he pinned you againt the vine-covered gate, “Except for you”.

“what the- WAIT! It’s still so bright out here not to mention we’re in PUBLIC Satoru!”, wide eyed you try to grab at his hand that was halfway done unbuttoning the top of your blouse.

“Do you want me to blindfold you?”, throwing these words nonchalantly he started licking every bit of exposed skin he could find from your ears to chest.

His mouth made contact with your covered breasts and without bothering to remove the piece of clothing he latched his mouth onto your hardened nipple to give it a gentle bite. Holding back your own moans you placed you hands on his broad shoulders, a feeble attempt at stopping him.

“How would THAT resolve anything?!” already half naked, your retorts seemed like pathetic excuses even to your own ears. It wasn’t until you heard a sharp rip that you realised your underwear was no longer on your body anymore. With a horrified look you saw your unusable underwear in Satoru’s hand.

“ I don’t think you’ll be needing these anymore my sweetness because I want to see ALL of you”, dangling the fabric from his long fingers he made a show of tucking it in his pocket. Hiking your skirt up with one hand he caressed the soft flesh with his thumbs.

“I knew you had no sense of danger but this could even get us arrested”, your reasoning seemed to fell on deaf ears as your boyfriend, already half way down on the ground, pulled his blindfold down with ease. Looking at up at you with his ethereal turquoise eyes that lied beneath strips of heavy white eyelashes, this part of his face was something you couldn’t see all the time.

“You’re beautiful……”, the genuine nature of his words felt unreal when compared to his everyday frivolous self, “at least I’ve always thought so”.

All the voices in the place except for his, got drowned out by the throbbing of your heart in your chest when he kneeled right in front of your crotch. The warm smile on his lips contradicted with his tantalizing actions but he enjoyed it precisely because of that.

“Open your legs a bit more y/n, I need more space to eat”, with his haughty smirk back he exposed more of your pussy with his fingers and dribbled the strawberry sauce over it until it started trickling down to the ground underneath it.

“This looks like a good dessert, waaay better than the one I was offered before”, making one last smartass comment he threw the now empty packet away and your sugar coated pussy was soon met with Satoru’s soft, warm tongue as he buries his face in it. His tongue worked it’s way beneath the layer of your pussy hair and down to the soft flabby skin underneath. Your natural slick combined with the dressing sauce tasted even sweeter in his mouth, the pleasant hums falling uncontrollably from his mouth made you wetter.

All the blemishes, scars and your self imposed flaws started melting into something more complete and unbreakable in its nature when you felt Satoru touching you, feeling you and tasting you from the inside and out.

His warm hands firmly gripped your thighs to lap at the soft peak in between. All the sensations his tongue was providing you made your vision turn black and your body heated up to the point of burning. The broad daylight and your exposed form added to the fear of being found out but your trust in your boyfriend outweighed everything so you let him have his way.

“ Hmmm, yeah y/n…”, the exaggeratingly loud slurping of his mouth came to a stop as he looked up at you, his pink lips glistening even more when he spoke, “Even this cheap stuff tastes better when I eat it directly from you”.

You were a panting mess, already having lost the ability to make coherent words you kept you eyes on Satoru as rose to his feet.

“ Let’s move on to the next part shall we?”, after smoothening out your skirt of you he held out his hand and your need for release took over all rhyme and reason so you put one of your shaking hand in his. The next few moments were confusing as a white light enveloped both of your forms and by the time your vision returned you found yourself in an unknown room.

The place itself was nothing out of the ordinary, some books, a cupboard and a vanity. The single bed near the curtained window was properly made. It was clearly not Satoru’s room but the neatness of the place also suggested that it wasn’t an unused room either.

“ Hey we’re are we?”, you question the white haired male when he casually made his way to switch on the lights.

“Don’t worry we’re still in the academy premises, you wanted to finish this right? And I didn’t wanted to go another second with hearing your pretty voice, so you can scream now,” his voice dangerously low, he held your arms in both of his hands and guided you to the single bed in the corner.

“ and I didn’t meant that as a request”, flat on your back you had no time for further questioning as your exposed cunt got filled to the brim in a single thrust. The stretch made you cry out and remembering Satoru’s previous warning you didn’t bother covering your mouth. The light in the room was enough for him to see all of you, even if he had all of you memorized at the back of since the first time.

Your twisted face that you’d consider ugly was nothing if not arousing to him from the kneeling position of his at the edge of the bed, endearing even at how the side of your eyes well up everytime he fucked you so hard, the creaking of the bed acted as a proof of his brutal pace that threatened to break the furniture.

Each powerful thrust of his made your entire body lurch from its position, your juices flowed endlessly down your thighs, on Satoru’s cock and down to the sheets. Your voice ricocheted off the walls and gave life to the entire building.

Having your orgasm cut off before, the anticipation that had build up made your upcoming release feel even ore intense. Your walls started clenching around his shaft, already feeling waves of ecstasy you waited for it to reach its peak.

“ Y/n...Come for me”, in between his grunts he placed on of his hand on the side of your head, lowering himself till your noses touched. Breaths intermingling, you came with a loud cry of his name. Euphoria spreaded through both of your bodies making a gush of liquid come out of your pussy when Satoru pulled out, both of your mess soiled the sheet.

Few minutes of silence passed by as a fully clothed Satoru sat beside you, stroking your head until you calmed down.

“ Hey y/n?”, abruptly his cheeky tone filled the room and you looked up at him questioningly,

“ Wanna take a pic? ya'know, as a momento”, the odd question made you come to an obvious conclusion, which now seemed obvious considering your boyfriend’s not so secret rebellious nature and with how much of a brat he can be it was nothing short of hilarious.

“ It’s Lisa’s room isn’t it?”, barely controlling your laughter you tried to pry an answer out of him, the soothing motion of his hands never coming to a stop he took out his phone with another.

“ Yeah, it is, I’d say it’s an excellent way of showing her our ‘bond’ dontcha think?”, his cringey answer made you burst into laughter. The first real smile he’d seen on your face since you got here was something Satoru wanted to be a constant thing, always there when he wanted to see it just like a still photograph.

Bending his face down his lips softly met your forehead and before you could open your eyes back up you heard the click of the camera go off.

“ Heh, so how is it?”, propping yourself up on your elbows you tried to peak at the screen but it was pulled out of sight just as quickly.

“ It’s perfect”, with a warm smile that reached all the way to his eyes Satoru put his phone down before peering into your eyes, “and it’s mine”.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #my writing

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aineryeo · 3 years

Text

Sweet Tea ௹ OSAMU

Sweet Hibiscus Tea — Better Twin. 🍵

SYNOPSIS: You are not a protagonist but your best friend definitely is. When will you ever be, sweet little side-character? » 6.2k Words

THEME: A li'l bit of a slow burn love story, angst, just a treat as my first fic in a year. | Bit of profanity, cussin', teen drama. And use of dialogue references!

NOTE: Low-key felt like this was crap, rip. I still love you so much ‘Samu :( I may have not written this the best

If you were to think of what your role in life was, you were sure you were a comic relief character, and your screen time was just cut short because the viewers in the show you call, “Life” are not giving you the best reviews. With the amount of times you felt like you were cycling through all your days the same, waking up… Waking.. Up.. Wake— Yeah, that was about it.

Everything else was an objective agenda. You were a sufficient klutz, whatever that paper was. You ponder, in your inner monologue while you’re tapping your push-pen on your school desk in Inarizaki.

“— And we’ll be designing our own living rooms as part of the Course Outline for Interior Studies in the general subject.”

You had a best friend, continuing to ignore the incessant babbles, you say as you write a little note to remind yourself to think of a living room design to finish the work quickly later. You had a best friend, who you can easily say is the main character of life. You swear, as she sat close to the window, and how she wasn’t mean, she was charming; it was so hard not to like her. But she’s also insecure, keeps to herself enough, having you by her side.

“Hear that ‘Samu?”

“What now, ‘Sumu?”

“Interior Designin’! Weren’t ya listenin’ ya scrub.” Bleach-blonde hair.“What about it?” Disinterest; Bleached hair too, but ash-grey.

“Ain’t Kori-Kori real good at stuff like this?”

You observed the two famed twins of Inarizaki High. Actually no, you were forced to; how? Well, you sat between them, not like that ever stopped anyone, nor did it ever interfere with your boring experience of being a 2nd mid-year Senior. You just wanted to get up, and leave, get a job or something; not going to lie.

“Is there anyone talking at the back right there? Anything the class would like to hear, pretty sure.” Professor said, which immediately shut the two up, the other was blatant and oblivious, even whistling.

“Guessed so.” Your professor went on right after.

Your chin was resting on the heel of your palm now, but you felt someone roughly, no really, they roughly tapped your shoulder, the touch was from a clearly heavy hand. It came from your right, which was…

“Hey missy, pass this on to my brother, will ‘ya?” He grinned widely, his other hand that held the pen used to write a note in the torn paper from his notebook that most likely didn’t have any notes despite it being mid-year. You let out a bit of a grunt, not moving from your position, but you did use your hand that was tapping your table to pass it on to the other Miya without sparing a glance.

“...”

Your arm was about to die.

You turned to the other Miya, a small frown on your face as he ignored your outstretched hand, his eyes were closed, arms crossed but he was definitely not sleeping, it was obvious enough. So you tried to aggressively wave your arm that held the letter while keeping an eye on the doting teacher upfront, trying not to be obvious. His brother had noticed that he was ignoring you as well, shrugging when your frown deepened, back straightening on your desk, your free hand now tapping on your table instead of being a rest for your head.

“Hey ‘Samu ‘ya jerk…!” Atsumu whispered, a volume tad higher, to his brother who proceeded to ignore him; and technically, you too.

You groaned and ignored the two, equally annoying twins that are involving you into a situation you don’t want to get involved in. So you just slammed, actually no, not slammed exactly but you did harshly place the torn paper that contained some unnamed letter from Atsumu directed to Osamu. Wistfully, this was noticed by your professor.

“Y/N. I believe it’s been made clear that passing notes is not allowed in my class, rather, on any occasion that involves other subjects as well.” They scolded.

You sucked a breath in between your teeth, your hand ran through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “Switch seats with Yokori. This seating will last ‘till the end of the year, ‘lest you misbehave again. This applies to everyone else who has been swapped constantly.”

Yokori gave you a solemn smile, knowing you hated this, she gathered her belongings and quickly sat to avoid any more trouble; even opting to give you a pat on your shoulder on the way to her desk near the window, though not quite beside. One classmate separated you from being directly beside the scenery of school grounds that held the gym where your schools’ famous volleyball team resides for practices. Actually, this classmate was one of their players, Suna Rintaro? Your impression on him was that he was quiet… Enough, if not provoked or talked to at all, which you guessed was part of your luck. Because you were definitely not going to talk to him, less it required you to by any of your classes together.

So you sat, your professor continued, and your eyes landed on your best friend that sat on your previous seat, since your first year of middle school. Bored expression on once again, your thoughts dialed back, and you noticed a quick interaction from Atsumu towards your best friend who flushed slightly from the two’s attention, noticing that even the twin who ignored you earlier began perking up, just a little bit. And the feeling was slight but you felt a tinge of annoyance, proceeding to push it to the back of your mind, not letting the feelings against your best friend surface. Because she was good, and undeserving of it, obviously.

The bell rang, it was time for lunch!

Lunch is a happy time, because you can buy yourself chocolate, and you can, well, eat lunch. What else is there for? You were bored out of your mind at home after doing your homework, and studying enough for the day so you practiced cooking. Which you admit, was very enjoyable, especially when you finish. Today was tuna sushi rolls, seaweed-strapped spam meat, seasoned rice, and hot tamarind soup in your insulating tumbler. You didn’t notice light gray irisess eyeing you in your little daydream about your lunch for today.

“Y/N, you good?” Yokori, said best friend went next to you, who had just finished gathering your lunch bag. You nodded, smile small. “Yep, let’s go.”

The class dispersed quickly, you two walked side-by-side as she timidly told you a story about her situation earlier.

“So Atsumu-san was passing notes to his brother Osamu, right? T’was so weird because they kept asking me questions, but Atsumu-san was nice, he wanted help with that Interior Designing project we have going on.” She laughed, scratching her cheek. You nodded along to her story, she was used to your rather quiet demeanor, she knew you were still listening. “They said it’d be cool to attend their after-school volleyball practice.”

“Mmh. Really? They’re annoying though.” You humored her, to which she chuckled.

“I mean… It shouldn’t be bad to try it, right?” She said with a big grin, bright.

You jutted your lips forward as you bobbed your head in agreement, already taking your chopsticks and lunch out when you found a free table. “I guess so.” You said, mouth chewing on a roll.

You pour a portion of soup to get the food down your throat onto your tumbler’s cap that serves as the cup, and drank, “So I told them you’re coming with me, I’d be too nervous by myself… Hehe..” and spat.

“Kori, what?”

“Come with me…” She looked at you, nervously smiling with her eyebrows raised in mock questioning, “-please.”

“Okay.”

“I promise, I’ll ask you next ti— wait, really? Holy shit, Y/N, thank you! I’ll pay you back, for sure. I didn’t expect you to agree quickly, d’you have a crush on any of the VBC members, perhaps?” She teased.

You were eating continually, mouth full of rice as you pointed your metal chopsticks toward her. Speaking with your mouth full, “I don’t think there was any point trying to say no if I’d say yes in the end anyway. It already happened, what can I really do?”

She nodded in understanding, you were always like this, relaxed about what happened around. It was worth idolizing, at least. Your head felt like it was burning, the back, you mean. Was someone staring?

You were now sitting outside of the gym, deciding to hang around outside instead of watching sweaty boys play for hours. Kori became more relaxed, so you took the go-mark and asked to leave when you noticed that she was. The team was fond of her, you note, Shinsuke Kita the Captain even thanking her for thinking of buying them snacks and helping them around with their manager to fill up the boys’ water bottles. The team gave her attention and copied their captain in terms of providing gratification for her deeds. You heard her ‘lax conversation next to the banter with the twins that was a normal recurrence.

You were simply a drifting particle, a bystander.

Actually wait, you remembered that you had packed yourself a little snack in case you had to stay in school for some surprise activity you forgot about, or situations like this exactly. So you took out your little box of homemade onigiris, not noticing the figure looming at the door. It was their break, and you were about to bite.

“Hey, that yours?” You hear, stopping your bite mid-way, turning your head to see ash-grey.

“Huh.”

“Ya deaf or what, missy?” The nerve.

You looked at him, and bit on the prism-shaped rice, then looked forward once again, closing your eyes even. ‘Till you heard shuffling and a sleazy figure sitting next to yours. That was when you opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape. Osamu Miya, sat next to you, his legs spread, and his arms were holding his whole posture as his head faced yours.

“If yer gonna look at me like that, the least ya could do is gimme one, little miss.”

You shook your head and swallowed. “Stop calling me little miss, old man.”

“Hoho, old man?” He says, humoring you, you can smell his cologne from here, mixed with sweat from his practice. He leaned forward, his arms now intertwining, resting on his knees, he was facing you with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’d call you shit hair but your hair ain’t the color.” You shrugged, but it was the type of shrug where you slightly move your hands outward. So when you did, the hand that held your bitten snack was when the big fox ate his fill. “Mm, tastes good.”

“Fucki-” You screeched. His eyes went wide when you just shoved the onigiri in his mouth, “It has your germs now, better not choke, gran’pa.”

Osamu was trying to give you a snide reply back but he couldn’t, with the rice stuck in, he just kept chewing. As you stood up and yelled to Kori that you were leaving. You were a side character, nothing more, you thought; as you walked away from the boy who had tried reaching to you, but you failed to notice.

“So… He invited me to their house to hang out.” Yokori said happily on the phone, you were trying to sketch a few designs you felt like doing so hummed, already quite satisfied, spinning on your chair right after. “So…”

“No.”

“But I haven’t said anything yet!”

“You were about to ask me if I can come with you because you’re nervous to go alone, the usual, hm?”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...Yes.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“N-”

“I’ll order you takeout pizza!”

“...Okay.”

You heard her cheering yes! On the other line, to which you just slumped in your chair to. And so, the day came and you were right behind Kori, who was knocking on the Miya residence as of the moment. The one who greeted the both of you was Osamu Miya, you internally groaned, their parents were off, you heard.

“Tsumu!” Your best friend smiles, greeting the other twin brightly; and smiling so wide at the twin at the door. “Hello ‘Samu!” She said, before the blonde had pushed past the door to beam at her.

“Brought your li’l friend along, cutie?” Atsumu jokes, rustling your friend’s hair before beckoning the two of you to come in. You walk past Osamu who you had mild grudges with. Your friend turned to you, “I’ll be helping Atsumu with some plates for the project, we’ll be up in his room!” She said, innocently.

“Mmh, okay. I’ll stay here?” You asked, more to yourself, you didn’t really know where to stay. This wasn’t your place.

“Accommodate the guest ‘Samu, I need’a do important school stuff.” Atsumu waved off as the two walked up the stairs on the way to the boy’s room, pretty sure. You stood there in the middle for a couple minutes, unsure. The renowned ‘less annoying’ Miya was sitting on one of their kitchen stools, his cheek digging into his palm, just staring at you. You stared back. He stared back. You were both staring.

You broke. “Not gonna let me sit, or anything?”

“Sit anywhere or something.” He droned, still looking at you. He was enjoying it.

So you looked at the couch beside you, then spared a glance at him, about to sit until he spoke again, “Hmm, not there.” He said in his low voice that contained an underline of mockery, you were sure. Though to him, it was simply amusing, to watch you that is. If anyone outside the two of your observing based gazes, he was actually sporting a noticeable smile. A small triangle smile, as if he was shy to make it any bigger, in hopes of hiding something.

You tried the two other chairs, the floor, leaning on a wall, but it was all a reject. You were embarrassed every time. Did you really have to go through all this just to get takeout pizza? You’d have to ask more later, that's for sure. So you tried for a last option, there was a tall stool right beside his, and well, three others far from him. So you tried the farthest tall stool from him, which was the far left. He shook his head no, you furrowed your eyebrows, you moved to the second stool, still no? Every move made your head wrinkle further down ‘till you reached the last seat, right next to him. To which he finally said, “Got it, pretty girl.” with a big boyish grin.

You didn’t have time to react to the nickname before finally letting out a sigh as you stretched your arms, and legs before laying your head on your arms that were resting on the table in front. That whole interaction probably took at least half an hour, you didn’t really know, you didn’t have a watch. “Pretty, my ass.”

He hummed, resting his head on his arms as well, though he was facing you. “Yer ass is.”

“The fuck.”

“Ya got a bad mouth.”

You groaned, and buried your face in your arms. Wanting to escape this. But you were lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t subconsciously enjoy his attention. You weren’t used to it, you weren’t supposed to feel this, right? It wasn’t, it just, it’s not you. Right? You shook your head to which the boy watched you do, getting your head up, posture straight and looking at him. He looked back, like he always seems to do.

“What do you want from me?” You say.

Osamu kept his mouth shut, still looking into you, thinking of what to say. Unwilling himself to tell you what he’d rather. So he asked a question, “D’ya cook?”

“Yeah, I make my own lunch and snacks.” You said, wary. Already feeling suspicious, you raise both your brows.

“Let’s cook.” He suggests.

Here’s the thing, you can’t do anything right if someone’s watching you too intently. It feels awkward, who in their right mind is able to do this right when he’s gripping your wrist that was stirring the batter for what the both of you decided to make, muffins.

“Ya gotta put in the right amount of strength.” He instructed.

“I’m starting to regret mentioning that I don’t bake often.” You thought, you thought you just thought that it was only in your thoughts. Oh no, you were becoming redundant, was it always this hot?

“Yer burnin’ figuratively, and literally. By that, your eyeballs are wide as fuck.” Osamu pointed out, he was biting his lip, to keep from a wide smile. “Tryna bake with yer hot gaze?”

What? “Huh.”

Now Osamu had wide eyes, I think it came off more sultry than intended. So he moved away from you as if you were burning his skin, though technically, you really were. Playing it cool. “What?”

“My what.”

“Yer… What?”

You were staring at him with a confused expression, about to open your mouth when, “Hey scrub! Make me a snack, I’m starvin’ over here.” Atsumu yelled from the room, you heard Kori’s small laugh and a faint, “Don’t be so mean, ‘Tsum.”

“Right. Let’s put ‘em in the tray then straight to the oven, yeah?” Osamu started, standing next to you, his face was not quite visible due to his wide shoulders, if you knew better, he might be obstructing your vision to not see the steaming heat from his ears. Spoiler, you did. But you chose not to poke at a sleeping bear.

“You sick? Got red ears?” You poked at a sleeping bear.

Actually, you were expecting a snark reply, it was easier that way. Just be sarcastic back. It was when the both of you were done, and placed the tray containing the muffin batter in the oven to bake, did Osamu dip his index finger in the bowl of slightly empty batter, facing you, and licking it off his finger. You really tried, you did; you tried not to look at the way he did that so unabashed. Dipping the same finger on the last remaining batter before menacingly leaning closer to you, inches from your face. If you could measure it exactly, 2.8 inches? So close.

Your weight moved from the heel of your foot to the front, again and again, what was he doing?

“What are you—?” You began before you got cut off by his finger wiping the batter on your lips, it made it look like you had a mustache. You stood there surprised for a few seconds, not knowing how to react, and hated how you expected something so different. It was until you heard a click of a camera and a low chuckle vibrate from the boy in front of you that you took the few remaining flour that was right in your reach to throw it in front of his face, making a huge fog of flour. He coughed for a bit, his eyes were glistening as he took the bowl next to him, using his whole hand to wipe leftover batter, getting ready to chase you.

You noticed. So you ran, but not without screaming, the leftover flour bag in your hand.

“No, please,”

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” He replied breathily, both of you were circling the kitchen island.

It took a good ten minutes before he decided to jump the island, and ran to quickly get hold of you with both of his arms, his hair tickling the side of your neck which made you laugh too hard, flour was all over his hair and apron, you failed to notice the handprint of batter right on your chest because you were struggling so hard to get off his grip. He was laughing too, you put on your scowling face, though not really mad, to face him, who in turn faced you as well. You didn’t notice the distance between the two of you was nearly non-existent; I repeat, nearly.

“Hey ‘Samu! I’m starvin’ and I smell yer bakin way over in my room.” You heard quick footsteps down the stairs, which made you jump in your skin. But even with that speed, you were still caught. Because Atsumu had an unreadable expression, “This place is a mess! Did we interrupt too early, hm?” Kori taking a peek right behind Atsumu.

You heard a dry cough from the other twin, facing the other direction, you facing the other as well. None of you spoke in time, so you took it. “No, uh, we weren’t, nothing was happening.”

“The scene of the crime is proof!” Atsumu pushed, teasing, as he continued his way down next to Kori.

“Shut it ‘ya scrub.”

“Yer the scrub, scrub.” They started bickering, real easy like that, trying to beat each other up. You noticed Kori walking down the stairs as well, first with an expression you couldn’t quite place, as if she was thinking deeply. But when she noticed you looking, she quickly changed into a bright smile, even sporting a blush, ready to tell a story about what happened behind the closed doors of Atsumu’s bedroom.

The day ended quickly after that, Osamu forced Atsumu to help the both of you to clean the kitchen while Kori volunteered to. It continued on like that, Kori dragging you into one of her meetings with Atsumu, you complaining but coming anyway, and you end up stuck with Osamu as she goes to her rendezvous with Atsumu that at this point, you have no idea what they’re doing. You just tag along.

Right now, you were beside Osamu in the gym during their break from training. Near the door, his teammates a good few distance away as he sat on a bench with his usual posture. Slumped back, his arms arching, one behind you that you fail to think of anything. Just as a general position. You were voicing out a thought you had in a while, seriously.

“So I was balls deep into ghosts way back—”

He looked at you, disgusted. “GROSS,” Shoving you lightly, “God, please never, ever say ‘balls deep in ghosts’ to anyone ever again. I feel like washin’ my mouth having to repeat that.” He even added this mild shudder that was just an exaggeration.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t really want to think about anyone having sex with a ghost.”

“Huh, who said anything about ghost sex?”

“You did, Y/N! Just now!”

“I didn’t—Oh, holy shit. No. Oh no.”

“What?”

“Does ‘balls deep’ not mean you’re standing in, like, the shallow end of the pool, metaphorically. Like up to your balls or something.”

“No! Balls deep is—It’s…”

“Balls deep is…”

“Why are you two talking about balls?” Suna interjected, acting as if he was just hearing about your conversation now. He was actually listening since the start, noticing the short distance between the both of you, interest hiding behind his eyes. “Balls, as in, dick or something? That’s wild.”

“Suna, no!” You screeched.

Osamu was biting back a laugh. The team was watching the three of you converse, getting used to the sight of you with their teammate. Assuming other things up the clouds. Atsumu was watching his brother with hawk eyes, and so was the girl next to him, Kori, though she was looking at you. If Suna was being honest, he didn’t notice any form of chemistry between your friend and the piss haired twin. They were all smiles and bright, but they always looked like they were thinking of something different. Though he doesn’t know anything about it.

Practice ended. It’s been months, and your interactions with Osamu have gotten more laxed. Your thoughts about being nothing more than a side-character was starting to change, because with him, you felt that you were a number one choice. You felt that you were a main character. Osamu felt the same, being with you felt like time was moving too fast and he wanted to spend it more with you, he was becoming insatiable. With you, he didn’t feel second to his brother for once. Lingering touches, his hand forgetting to unhook from yours, and his arm slinking around your shoulders as he yawns and asks for one of your homemade snacks as he starts to make some after-school snacks to give back to you.

You were invading his mind as much as he was invading yours. Sitting next to you during lunch, asking what’s in your bento, vice versa. Why was everything sailing so smooth? It was like it was just him and you. You heard rumors from the Miya fans that they were thinking you were Osamu Miya’s girlfriend. Forgetting your inferiority, sometimes the universe was just cruel, so it had to humble you.

“Atsumu and I broke up.” Kori sobbed.

Not to you, but to Osamu. You gripped your bag’s strap tightly. You peeled your lip with your teeth until the middle bled, so you sucked in the pain. No, you were not the protagonist. You weren’t, you never will be, and you never are in the past, present, and future. So you sucked in a breath to collect yourself, seeing Osamu pat the girl to attempt and comfort her, badmouthing his brother. “Sorry,” Her first gripped his shirt tighter.

“Osamu, please. It’s—I always liked you. It was just you.”

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t, but why? You wanted to hit her, that, or jump off a building and die. None of them noticed you yet, at least that’s what you thought, but the sobbing girl had already seen you before she started bawling, and the other twin was forced to give her a tight, but awkward hug.

“Yokori… I liked you.”

You were about to walk to them normally after licking your lips from the blood, wanting to appear as a third party, to not let this happen. It just can’t. but you were pulled back by your collar. Who—

“Atsumu?”

He put his index finger in front of his lips to silence you, “Shh.”

So you followed him confused, he held your hand away from the scene. Leading you to the gates, the school half-empty, their practice about to start in half an hour or so. “Atsumu, why?” You croaked.

He had his eyes widened a bit, why? Actually, why did he pull you from that scene? His other hand that didn’t hold yours, which you didn’t bother to remove with the energy seeping out of your body quickly; it was taking everything in you not to break down. It went to his nape, rubbing it in question to himself, why? It was just that, seeing you staring at a scene when he knew you liked his brother, at a scene too painful, for a best friend who was just trying to do their paper, he knew. So his arms safely wrapped around you as you stared dead into his eyes, looking at his features that resembled the other who had unknowingly captured your heart.

Your bleeding lip trembled, your eyes turned glossy of the tears held back, Atsumu looked at you, empathetic. He broke up with your best friend because he couldn’t see it happen, every time he saw you with his brother, that wasn’t what they both had. They were simply not meant to be, and he was fine, he just didn’t know, but he was glad that because of it, he found out that she liked his brother more than she did him. He’d be angry, he should be, for his sake, but he wasn’t angry for him, he was angry for you.

He hid your face into his chest instead. You didn’t sob, solely because you thought you didn’t deserve to. But you cried, you let your tears soak in, “You look like him too much.”

“Shhh, I know—” Sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to look at me.” He said, trying his best to comfort you, caressing your hair. As a pair of grey eyes watched the scene from a distance, unable to hear, but able to see. Maybe he saw too much as he grimaced.

Osamu tried his best not to punch his brother right in the jaw, or push him away so he could yell everything he’d kept cooped up inside before you came running along, turning monochrome into a saturated-vision of the world. His teeth were pressing down on each other hard enough, he thought it might break, and shatter, just like his heart did. Of course, you chose his brother. Everyone always does. Every time he thinks he’s got it all, it’s all swiped underneath by his twin. Everyone says that it wasn’t their talents, or skills in volleyball that was the greatest gift they had ever received in life. It was their twin. But right now, he just thinks he was a curse he had to always deal with.

He jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Suna.

“Practice. Kita’s calling. Call your brother.” The ever-observant boy runs over as he scans the scene, and hisses as he sees you wrapped in his brother’s arms. Though he knew more than that, he had first-class seats to this theatrical after all. But he’d rather not be part of the act club, it wasn’t his forte.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Osamu replied, briefly. A bit tense, still.

He looked back to Atsumu who had let you go, and you who were walking away already. On the way to your home, he was sure. But he can’t help but cringe, thinking of it as your way of walking away from him.

“Practice! ‘Sumu!” He yelled, devoid of anything.

You jolted, you were a bit far but he yelled really loud you could still hear it. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, but you were both overcome by swirling emotions that stopped both of you to do the bare minimum, smile and wave, no after-school snacks. Atsumu jogged towards them, not noticing his brother’s attempt at hiding his huge frown. Practice was hell for Osamu, he didn’t want to see his brother right now, not when he still thinks of your precious little form hugging his brother’s, not his.

When his brother accidentally served a ball hitting Osamu behind the head, it was more of a switch for his anger; his rage.

“Fucking hell.” He said, turning viciously towards his brother who was uttering lighthearted apologies. It wasn’t until he started stalking towards Atsumu did the team start watching them like hawks, Aran thinking it’s just another one of their silly fights. But that thought was cut off when Osamu suddenly launched a fist towards Atsumu. “Ya just get off on this, huh? Ya get off on giving me bullshit every time.”

“Woah, ‘Samu I said I was sorry. What the fuck.” Atsumu said, brows furrowed, voice starting to get scratchy at his brother’s tight grip on the collar of his shirt. His hand quickly gripped his brother’s wrist tied to his shirt, attempting to get it off him, starting to get riled up from getting hit out of nowhere. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?” He said, about to kick his brother off of him.

“You. You just took everything from me, ‘Sumu. You took them.”

Osamu breathed heavily as Kita instructed the team to peel the twins away from each other as this wasn’t one of their silly fights at all. It held other issues. The captain knew that practice wouldn’t be able to continue like this, so he made them do drills before allowing them to go home. Looking pointedly at the Miya’s. The two brothers did what they were told to, going off to do their drills, and getting ready to go home.

They were walking silently side-by-side, both faces covered with a frown, Atsumu’s face having a bruise by the jaw whilst Samu didn’t have a scratch, only because Atsumu was realizing where it all came from.

“Did ya see?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look— It’s not what ya think, ya idiot.” Atsumu started, Osamu raised his brow at his brother. “I don’t want to say anything. Figure things out yourself, scrub.” Then the blonde started walking faster, leaving his brother behind to ponder.

The next day came by, he tried calling you but it never got through. Did you block him? What did he do? Did you really get repulsed by him to avoid him to that extent? That involved his texts getting left unanswered. You didn’t come to school today, he asked Kori, who he had rejected yesterday, and who was supposed to know about you more than he did. Though he was aware that you often felt inferior to her, as he told you the same about his brother, it was a feeling that you two were all too familiar with.

“I don’t know where she is, I’m sorry. She’s not talking to me either.”

Osamu stayed quiet at that, he thought you just needed time. So he let it go, looking forward to talking to you the following days. But that was the problem, you weren’t there in the following days either. He knew where you lived but he didn’t want to impose as your family didn’t know him very well yet either. He stopped himself from visiting until it hit the second week of your absence. Where were you? Why have you disappeared as if you never existed in the first place? He was growing worried, he wanted you to exist. He loved existing when you were around. And he wanted to clear everything up after getting multiple clues from Suna, and his brother, obviously.

It was until the class of the second week you were gone, when Osamu promised to visit your house after school, did their teacher tell them news that tore Osamu in half.

“One of our students Y/N L/N has transferred schools. The administration just finished filing her transfer after her visit yesterday, she didn’t get to say goodbye as her family moved out the same day. That’s about it, the first class is Physics. Have a nice day ahead, students.”

His ears were ringing. You were gone. Gone like the liquid that slipped past his hold. Atsumu looked at his brother in pity, knowing how much he had lost at that time. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hear Osamu crying in the shower when they got home. Or when he tried to not get his snot on his pillows, sniffling in the night. His heart ached for his brother.

It’s been years since 2nd year in High School, and Osamu has just opened up Onigiri Miya. His brother had gone pro on Volleyball, and he couldn’t be more proud. He still finds himself thinking back to a few months of pure bliss in highschool, and he tried dating a fair share as well, in hopes that he’ll get what he had with you. He didn’t. So he dedicated himself to his work, and his passion: cooking. A few more years and his business was a success, to which was hell for the first few months, having no investors, and all. He was wiping down his counter, black cap on, his hair not having the same old bleached-grey hair. Instead, it was back to his natural dark hair.

“What is this place, really?”

“The name reminds me of someone from my highschool days. But I only heard about it now, is it really good?”

“Yeah, totally! We should bring our superiors here, and see if we get a few favors, hmm? The onigiri here is a star-choice.” Osamu sees someone turned around, laughing prettily, smiling all-wide, they were bright. Until the same eyes he used to look at in such a close distance, caught his own. His heart skipped two beats, or maybe skipped beating this whole time, maybe he died because god, did he finally send his angel back to him?

It was when you uttered his name under your breath, from the entrance that rang the bell prior to the conversation he overheard earlier did he confirm it. “Hey pretty girl,” he says, as he takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, chuckling deeply, and looking directly back at you; your heart spasms. “Where have you been?”

Bonus:

“Yeah, he was a real bitch when I first talked to him in high school.” You badmouthed him loudly from your table, which made him yell from the kitchen, “I was trying to see if you’ll take my hand and put the note there, okay!” Laughing, you didn’t notice him stalking behind you until he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Grumpy-ass.”

Living with 'Samu! ⁆ End Credits

#miya osamu #Miya #Osamu #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu!!#Inarizaki #miya atsumu #Atsumu #Osamu x Reader #Osamu x you #suna rintarou #Slow burn #Angst

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ichorizaki · 4 years

Text

02. just one glance

warnings obscene language, child abuse

word count 3.8k

It was one of those rare days that Tadāo felt weirdly generous. When you woke up, he was still asleep in his half of the bed. When you were making breakfast, he was still in bed. When you were done and waking Tarō up, he was awake and trudged to the kitchen with a somewhat fresh face. Your son was walking on eggshells as he crept to the breakfast table, eyes watching his father carefully like the façade could drop any second. It was a Monday, so that meant that Tadāo was bound to be back in the office, which was why it was a surprise to everyone at the table when he asked what time Tarõ’s daycare ended. You fought back the urge to bite back, to reprimand him that he should know as his father, so you gave him a practiced smile instead.

“He usually ends at noon sharp,” you looked at your husband, trying to look out for even the slightest twitch on his face that told you he was just asking out of curiosity and nothing more. “Why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to take him out for a couple of hours and spend time with him, is that so wrong?” There was an edge in the tone of his words, sharp and jagged to shield what may be the guilt of being absent in Tarō’s life catching up to him. You almost couldn’t believe it. Your eyes quickly flit to your son who was already staring nervously back at you from his seat next to his father. You felt the weight of your heart sinking down to your stomach. His earthy eyes that were once filled with the flames of mirth and mischief were now dampened with trepidation. “What, I can’t take my son out to spend time with him?”

Tadāo’s voice snapped your focus back to the table as a whole. Of course there was nothing wrong, you just didn’t trust him around your son without you around. He called for your attention once more but the way his twisted words somehow sounded like you and Tarō should be thankful that he even suggested it at all.

“Tarō, is that okay with you?” Stuck at a crossroads, you asked your son what he thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t be okay with it—why would he be?—but he and you had a system to protect each other when the other isn’t around. He despises his father with a burning passion but you couldn’t exactly fault him. His brows furrowed, very clearly against the idea of being alone with your husband.

“Give your mother a break. Lord knows she needs it. Right, Y/N?” Tadāo’s eyes found their way to yours and you swallowed thickly. What the hell were you even supposed to say? “Right?”

“Yes,” you quickly responded, your heart tripping over its own feet.

That was how you found yourself sitting in the exact same mall Tadāo had brought your son to with your two best friends by your side. The three of you were cosied up in a 4-star Michelin restaurant for afternoon tea and a lunch buffet. You were supposed to be relaxing but it stressed you out when you tried to. The table was empty, with you occupying one seat as the other three were temporarily homing personal purses and shopping bags.

Mai and Kame had gone ahead to grab some drinks and light starters. Your phone screen was facing you, placed by your plate where you could easily reach it in case Tarō called you. You didn’t even notice that the both of your friends had returned until you realised that you had a strawberry cheesecake parfait set on your plate. Your e/c eyes slowly drifted up to meet Kame’s piercing gaze. Behind the icy grey you knew she meant well, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she sat down across you.

“We know you’re worried for Tarō, Y/N.” Mai’s voice was gentle and soothing as she took your hand in hers. She cupped them both and your eyes trailed from your hands to her face, where a smile akin to a spring flower greeted you. “We can’t do much, but we’re in the same mall as they are, which means if Tarō ever needs help, we’re all here able to rush to him immediately.”

“She’s right,” Kame chimed in. She had already started eating her gyōza and chawanmushi with shrimp. “Plus, did you forget that I’m a taekwondo teacher or something? I can knock your bitch of a husband out, just say when.” While her intentions were nothing but pure, her violent comment did not go unnoticed by the table of pompous middle-aged women behind her.

“Kame, we’re in public!” Mai took the opportunity to kick her in the shin underneath the table upon releasing your hands. The auburn-haired woman scowled childishly and you couldn’t help but smile. Even when you’re all so different, your personalities complement each other well. They were right—there’s nothing much you could do. If you wanted to worry, you could, but you were just putting yourself in a state of pure unbridled worrying. The three of you were finally meeting up after three weeks, with Mia being busy with grad studies and Kame with running her classes.

So you tried your best to ignore the unsettling sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach like a hexing potion. You paid attention to the food, to the conversation, to the atmosphere, and soon you found yourself relaxing. The tension in your shoulders disappeared as you laughed for the nth time that afternoon. The three of you were reminiscing about your college days, making jokes, recalling old classmates and even joking about said classmates. While it had been hell for you as a public relations and business major, the experiences outside of classes made it worthwhile.

Then your mind couldn’t help but wander to Futakuchi Kenji and the incident that happened sometime last week. Your relationship with him extended a little further than just in-laws. He was a business major attending the same university both you and your husband did. Thanks to that, most of your classes happened to overlap and you just happened to be around him a lot. You nearly fainted on the day you found out that they were cousins—they were nothing alike, until you realised how similar they were in terms of their appearances.

Being classmates with Futakuchi was by no means a walk in the park. For some reason, during discourse sessions, it always ended up the both of you being at each other’s throats. Actually, it wasn’t just discourse sessions. If there was no discourse session, he would create one. Discussion panels would turn into debates and the both of you would end up being the last ones standing, too stubborn to stand down until it was just a battle of wits and personal attacks. Oh, how he loves attacking Tadāo.

“Your strategy is great, but what happens if the media suddenly turns it into something else completely? You know how they can get when they want something newsworthy. They’ll try to shove words down your throat like that crummy boyfriend of yours.” You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes. Of course Futakuchi Kenji had brought up his cousin. You were beginning to wonder whether he had forgotten about him altogether.

The scoffs, snickers, and snide comments made by your classmates fell on deaf ears. While they were used to it and obviously desensitised, it got annoying when Futakuchi drags out the lesson even by just a minute.

“First of all, thank you for acknowledging my strategy’s worth. Second of all, you’re making up situations entirely based off of biases about the media. You know damn well the journalists in our uni are trained to be professional specialists. Lastly, that’s my fiancé, you sick son of a bitch.”

You couldn’t help but miss those classes. As much as he slandered your husband, he was actually a decent person. He helped out when you struggled, offered you notes, and he always arrived in class early with your favourite drink. The both of you were close, but at the same time barely knew anything about each other. Kame had mentioned something about one of the parties that all three of you went to and had to go streaking but managed to weasel her way out of it, which made your whole table erupt with laughter. However, your happiness was cut short by a loud ringing from your phone.

The caller ID on your phone was enough to send your heart racing against your chest. Tarō would never call you for no reason. The phone that you gave him—a model a whole decade older than he—was for emergency purposes and that only. Your thumb swiped the green icon across the screen and the second you put your phone to your ear, you could hear his laboured breaths.

“K-Kāsan,” his voice came out in choked sobs. “Tōsan is . . he tried to hit me. Please- Please come get me, Okāsan.”

“Where are you, baby?”

“Kiddy Palace in the mall nearby. Please hurry–” The last that you heard before an empty line were angry shouts in the distance. By the end of it, you had already gathered your items and you noticed that so had Mai and Kame, the latter digging into her purse for her wallet as she marched over to the counter to cover the payment.

“Where’s Tarō?” Mai asked, taking your hand in hers.

“Kiddy Palace. That’s the fourth level, right?” She gave you a nod of confirmation and that was all that it took for the both of you to speed out of the restaurant. Kame managed to catch up when you found the lift lobby. The adrenaline coursed through your system like a wave of flood; you could barely keep up with the way your brain was going off on tangents and trying to focus on the steps ahead of you. The worst had come true, and you didn’t want to think that it was just your brain blowing out of proportion.

Kame’s hand was on your back, rubbing soothing circles while Mai held onto your other hand. They were telling you that everything was going to be alright, that Kame was beyond capable of putting your husband back in line. They were trying their best to ease your worries but it could only do so much.

The second the doors began to slide open, you had to squirm past and your feet began to carry you to Kiddy Palace. Blood thumped in your ears, the fear sitting on your face like a pillow suffocating. It didn’t take you long to find Tarō, huddled among plush toys similar to a fortress. The second he saw you, he flung himself over to you, throwing himself in your arms. He was babbling and sobbing; you could barely make out any coherent words when you hoisted him up, holding him close against your body.

“You fucking dog!”

“Kenji, don’t get in between my and my son.”

You froze. Kenji? Futakuchi Kenji? Mai had appeared at your side, her gentle words and cooing to calm Tarō down. She offered to carry him so that “Okāsan’s going to fight Otōsan.” He had no problem shifting from you to her before you ran up to where Kame was, separating the two men from biting off each others’ throats. She stood right in front of him, looking him in the eye and ready to shove him back should he step out of line.

You didn’t even know where to go. To Kenji, or to your husband? Between the both of them, it was your husband who looked more beaten up. Kenji looked spotless while your husband suffered a busted lip and a bruised eye. What were you even going to say to your husband?

“What the fuck are you staring at me for?” You flinched at the harsh words. Mumbles and murmurs came from the onlooking crowd who were unsure on what to do or were too afraid to step in. “Come and help me, you useless bitch.” No sooner had the last syllable left his lips had Kame and Keiji both flung themselves at him, profanities running a mile a minute. Within the blink of an eye, Tadāo was tackled to the ground with both your best friend and his cousin on him.

It took you a heartbeat to realise what was happening. Your head was spinning, your body lurching forward until you were begging for Kame and Kenji both to get off of him. Your pleas and cries finally got through to the two. Weakly, you pulled them off of Tadāo’s body. You couldn’t even bear to look at your husband. With this many people watching– shit. You’ve caused a ruckus in the middle of a mall.

You spun on the heel of your feet and began to bow at a ninety-degree angle in all directions where there was a visible crowd, voicing out your apologies with a tremble in your voice and a shaking heart. Then, you turned to your husband with tears in your eyes and the choke of a sob in your throat. Your heart hammered threateningly against your chest, watching him carefully as he got onto his two feet.

“Don’t come home tonight.”

“Who the fu–”

“You wanna get fucking beaten up, you punk?!” Kame stomped a foot forward and that was enough to make him flinch the slightest. She grabbed Kenji by his arm and you by your hand, leading you away from the scene. You didn’t know why she dragged him, but it would be nice to know what had gone down and why he was even in the mall in the first place. Mai joined you three with a sniffling Tarō whose cheeks were wet with tears. She suggested that you headed out of the mall and to the McDonald’s across the street for some ice cream to cheer everyone up and everyone unanimously agreed.

So there you sat on a public bench, balancing Tarō on your thighs with a handheld fan in his direction while he happily ate his vanilla ice cream. Mai and Kame sat on either side of you, the former enjoying the seasonal yuzu ice cream and Kame a chocolate cone. Kenji sat quietly next to Mai, the only other person he’s familiar with having known each other since they were in high school.

You learned that Tadāo had been rather passive aggressive in his behaviour towards your son. He was impatient to Tarō’s needs and completely forgot—he probably never even knew about it in the first place—about Tarō’s love for wearing dresses and tiaras. He called his son a slur that is now ingrained in the poor child’s brain for the rest of his natural life and threatened to hit him over and over when Tarō was overwhelmed and threw a tantrum. Tadāo would have struck your child if it hadn’t been for Kenji who happened to be nearby. To your dismay, a fight broke out between them right before you turned up.

Perhaps it was time for you to pull up your socks and talk to Tadāo about his behaviour. Guilt found its way around your heart, wrapping its thick tendrils around it and squeezing it tightly like it was trying to milk an apology out of you. But who was that apology for? You? Or was it for your husband? It should go to Tarō, right? Thoughts raced through your mind, fogging up your vision and before you knew it, your mind was but an incoherent blur of emotions and thoughts.

“Uh, I think I’ll take my leave first.” Turning to your left, Kenji was getting up from his spot next to Mai. “Take care, okay? You need to do something about him.” His warm eyes then landed on Tarō and you couldn’t help but notice a certain glint of curiosity in them. Your son squirmed uncomfortably in your laps. You knew how he got around any adult male but it was a surprise altogether to see him hiss at Kenji.

“Oya, I didn’t know my favourite boy was a cat!” Mai immediately stole his attention. Tarō lets out a tiny humph, nose upturned before his lower lip jutted out into a pout. The five-year-old frowned at Mai, who teased him as she picked him up to settle him next to her. “You’re a big boy now and you still wanna sit on your mommy’s lap?”

“I’m gonna sit on Okāsan’s laps even when I’m bigger!”

“Even when she’s old and wrinkly like a grandma?” Tarō was left speechless as his baby browns darted between you and Mai who was laughing her ass off. You rolled your eyes, smacking her in the back of her head before getting up to talk to Kenji.

He had his hands in his pockets, kicking at the rocks that found their way from the asphalt and it reminded you of a small child feeling sheepish. You noticed how his muscles flexed and relaxed underneath the fabric of his fitted black shirt before noticing how he was so casually dressed for a Monday afternoon. Was he unemployed? Or maybe retired, even? You knew he owned his company and he’s earning himself an empire of gold but you didn’t know just how much gold he had in his tavern.

“Kenji,” you called out cautiously, staying a safe distance from him. He turned around, eyebrows raised in surprise. Did he not expect you to approach him? “Thank you for saving Tarō. Lord knows what would’ve happened without you there.” He didn’t make any move to close the distance between the both of you. The corners of his lips twitched upwards into a lazy smile.

“Guess it’s gotta be pure luck for you, huh?” You scoffed at that. Or at least, tried. You were relieved and you weren’t going to lie about that. You would thank him in some other way, a gift maybe, but you knew your husband would blow it out of proportion and that would be a whole other issue altogether.

“Luck, fate, whatever it is, I’m just glad that you were there, okay? I know what kind of person Tadāo is and what kind of person he can be. The last thing I’d ever let him do is lay his hand on my son.” He must have heard how earnest you were because when he took a deep breath, you saw how his features softened as he looked back into your (e/c) eyes. You didn’t know if he was searching for the right words to say, a delicate response to express that he didn’t mind at all, until you noticed a sleek black car pull up by the curbside. What was it with him being interrupted all the time?

“You know I’d do anything to make sure that that bastard’s out of your life. Hell, that’s probably the only agenda in my book right now,” he chuckled. Kenji lifted his hand to give you a gentle pat on your head. “I’ll get going now. You know I’m just a phone call away.”

You watched as he turned his back on you, waiting patiently as the car door slid open automatically to reveal an all-black leather interior. He ducked his head and entered the vehicle but not before giving you one last wave goodbye, the door sliding over and securing him safely in the car.

That was the longest interaction that he had with you yet ever since he had gotten home from Yokohama. Kenji leaned back in his seat, head rocking back against the headrest. He closed his eyes and the picture of Tarō formed in his head. There was just . . . there was just something about that kid that unsettled him. It was probably the way that he suddenly hissed when he was trying to find the courage to ask if he was okay. The kid didn’t really look like you.

Oh, you. All these years and he thought you’d have left the sick bastard of a human being that he had as a cousin that you have as a husband. Yet again he was proven wrong with the silver band on your ring finger. What bothered him was the lack of a ring on Tadāo’s ring finger.

The entire ride home, his mind was plagued with thoughts of you and Tarō. The dynamic that you both had made him miss his own mother. You were so caring, so gentle and so soft but in that kindness of you was a strength hardened by all of the shit that Tadāo had forced you into. You didn’t let your hardships define you, and that was something that he’s always admired you for.

Kenji fiddled with his phone as he alighted the car, thanking the driver as he made his leave. Maybe he should call his mother. But he already called her two days ago. He knew that she would tease him to no end should he call her any sooner. He only called once a week, but even then, his mother is usually the one calling in a mere day after he had done so.

His butler greeted him as he entered the threshold of his large and lonely household, a friendly greeting returned along with a smile. He immediately found himself headed into the direction of his library, where not only had he stashed archives of literature works but also archives of his own past. He wasn’t one to keep photo albums in his room, choosing to keep them safely and neatly tucked away in the library with the other books that he had.

Nostalgia in waves as he settled down in his chair, opening up the album to be greeted with his baby pictures. His phone was set on the table before him, the line ringing on speaker as he waited for his mother to pick up. He flipped through the pages slowly, a fond smile on his face as he watched himself grow. He was such an adorable baby. Cheeks red, full and always stuffed with rice or some of his favourite candy.

Then, he came across a picture that struck a chord through his chest. He couldn’t have been any older than seven years old in the picture, perhaps six. He was at the beach, sporting a gigantic toothy grin. His hair was wet and stuck to his skin, yellow goggles hanging loosely around his neck and the bulge of his tummy ever so visible through the navy blue of the swimming suit he was wearing. He would have been mistaken to be extremely elated to be at the beach if it weren’t for how red his eyes were. Wait a minute . . . this looked all too familiar. Where had he seen this before; this very expression of a young boy grinning with tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes? Ah. Then it had hit him.

Masayūki Tarō looks exactly like him when he was younger.

PREV. | ML. | NEXT.

#꒰🖍꒱ ⨾ replica #꒰⚡️꒱ ⨾ zeus’ thunderbolt #hq #bbthots #tw child abuse #child abuse tw #child abuse #cw child abuse #futakuchi kenji #Futakuchi Kenji x reader #futakuchi kenji fluff #futakuchi kenji x y/n #futakuchi kenji x you #futakuchi x reader #futakuchi x y/n #futakuchi fluff #futakuchi kenji fic

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klutzyzombie · 4 years

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Summary: From a young age, Bakugou Katsuki is told his hearing will continue to fade with use of his explosive quirk. He's given hearing aids to help when he reaches high school but refuses to wear them because what pro hero wears those? It takes some red-headed courage to convince him otherwise. Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Eijirou Kirishima, Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou (KiriBaku) Rating: General Warnings: N/A Words: 6,701 Notes: So this is my first official fic for this fandom and I don't exactly have anyone to proofread this so I sincerely apologize if it's out of character and for the errors! This was written from my own experiences with going deaf and requiring hearing aids and how I felt about it when I was first told. It seemed like something Bakugou may have also felt so you'll have to excuse me projecting~

**Please note that when a character is signing, it will be italicized.

Ao3: [click here!]

He started losing his hearing in grade school. He had been about eight when his family took him to get his ears checked when his grades slipped and he continued to miss things said at home. From there he was bounced from doctor to doctor but the general consensus was the same; his quirk was causing him to go deaf. It made sense really; continued exposure to loud constant boom’s. Like playing a rock concert next to the amp turned up all the way. It was bound to happen the second his quirk manifested and the decision to be a pro hero was made.

They recommended easing down on use of his quirk unless the situation called for it to try and put off the inevitable, but that wasn’t about to happen. Pro heroes in training needed to have master over their own quirks! So they also suggested hearing aids which Katsuki was against. What pro hero wore those tacky things?! For now, his hearing loss was manageable, but if Katsuki was keen on becoming a hero (and he was; even eight year old Katsuki knew this) then the doctors expected his hearing to be practically gone by the time he was in his late teens.

So the Bakugou family learned sign language as a safety net and as he grew, his hearing faded more and more as expected. It became Katsuki’s new normal for things to be a little jumbled and almost like people were talking underwater if they weren’t close enough or if they soft spoken. Maybe that was why as got older he had a tendency to yell constantly, his voice growing a little more gruff with age as well. He’d also picked up on lip reading which was immensely helpful in middle school as he refused to tell a teacher he couldn’t hear them or ask to sit in the front. It wasn’t going to be the future he imagined when he was a kid, but hey, he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki! He wasn’t about to let something like hearing loss stop him from becoming the next number one hero! He was nothing but goal driven from a young age, refusing to tell anyone about what he deemed to be his biggest weakness, preferring to make due with his lip reading. When his acceptance into U.A. was announced, his parents made a decision and while he fought tooth and nail – literally – he was fitted for a pair of hearing aids.

U.A. was everything he had hoped it would be as a child (though he could have done without the damn nerd also getting in and sitting right behind him) and much to his utter chagrin, he even made a few friends despite the fact that he’d never refer to them as such. They were more like a few idiots who wouldn't know how to fuck off if their lives depended on it. One such of these idiots and the biggest offender was Kirishima who, from day one, seemed to latch on to Katsuki. It was annoying at first; sure he had ‘friends’ in middle school but they were more afraid of him and only followed him as some sort of leader or popularity magnet. Kirishima just- liked him. For him! There wasn’t any fear and he damn sure wasn’t getting popular by hanging around Katsuki. If anything that was reversed since the stupid idiot seemed to be friends with just about everyone to varying degrees.

And Katsuki wanted to hate it- hate HIM because he didn’t need friends let alone overly enthusiastic idiot friends and with Kirishima deeming him ‘friendly’, the rest of the idiot brigade followed suit. Before Katsuki knew what had happened, Kaminari had wormed his way into his and Kirishima’s study sessions, Ashido had started tugging on his arm in her bubbly excitement at something or another, and Sero had taken too confining in him about whatever trouble had been on his mind. Bakugou Katsuki had actual honest to god friends and it was Kirishima’s fault. It hit him one night after moving into the dorms after he’d been dragged to watch a movie in Kirishima’s room. Like, forcefully dragged and as they sat there, watching as Iron Man and Captain America did some epic team up move on some aliens, he realized he was actually enjoying himself around these idiots.

He wasn’t supposed to be fond of the dunces. He didn’t need anyone and after the hero exam he and Todoroki failed, he tried to go back to how things were. Katsuki didn’t need friends and Kirishima and Kaminari passing while he failed was proof of that. So he separated himself from them. Well, he tried to at least. It wasn’t easy to do since the clingy idiots couldn’t take a hint if he stapled it to their faces. It was exhausting and when he did finally manage it, about a week into his granted alone time he was miserable and angry and ended up back on Kirishima’s bed while he and Kaminari played some game on Kaminari’s Switch.

He couldn’t shake the idiots he unwillingly befriended and he whole heartedly blamed Kirishima for all of it. On a rare weekend home, he was bitching to his mom about the annoyances who kept blowing up his phone with their stupid ‘Bakusquad’ group text. Mitsuki was sitting at the kitchen table with designs and fabrics spread out while Katsuki ranted on. She hadn’t known her comment about him being popular due to his phone’s continued dinging would lead to this, but now it was hard to stop the small smile building as he went on and on about them. Something he pointed out to her with annoyance.

‘Sorry, it’s just nice to know you have actual friends! Finally.’

“I can fuckin’ hear you, hag!” Katsuki snapped.

‘Are you sure? I don’t see your hearing aids in.’

His response to that was to simply flip her off as he marched out of the room. “I’m not going to wear those fuckin’ things.”

“Katsuki!” They had this argument so many times now he could almost recite it word for word. It was what she always said since the moment they picked up the stupid devices. 'Wear them!' 'Are you wearing them?' 'How is training with the hearing aids working out?' Every damn time she called it was the same song and dance and it was getting more and more irritating every time she brought the damn things up! He could picture her pushing away from the table and marching after him so it wasn’t a surprise when her raised voice shouted after him. “We spent good money-“

“’-on those things so the least I could do is wear them’! Get a new speech! I don't fuckin' need them because I can still hear just fine!” There was an uncharacteristic pause after that and he wheeled around to glare at her, to see what she was trying to prove, only to see Mitsuki giving him a pointed look. “What?!”

‘I said if that was true, then you would be able to hear me.’ She signed while speaking. Well, he assumed she was. Her lips were moving and he could hear a faint sound that was in teh same tone as her voice, but couldn't quite make out the words. Katsuki stood there, red eyes narrowed at her which was a look she was mirroring back at him for all of a few seconds before she sighed, expression softening. ‘Katsuki, it’s gotten worse since you started high school. I’ve been practically yelling at you just so you’d hear me since you got home.’ The look on his face must have been horrified because his mom’s melted from fond annoyance to one of almost-pity. She lifted her hands to sign something else but he quickly turned and marched back up to his room to finish getting ready to head back to the dorms. He hated that look on her. Hated that look on anyone and he didn't need her to see that she was right. That his hearing really had gotten worse. It would make sense that it had, he guessed. He went from only training with his quirk a few times a week to preserve his hearing to using it about daily for hours on end.

So then why hadn’t he noticed it?

He guessed the whole ‘it’s a gradual process’ thing could be a factor and if he thought about it, he was having a harder time hearing Aizawa now. Deku’s muttering had also seemed to bother him less as of late and it damn sure wasn’t because the nerd had suddenly stopped the habit he’d had since they were kids. His hearing really had faded drastically in just under a year and that was a reality check.

One he also apparently wasn’t great at hiding because a few days back in school had Kirishima draping an arm across his shoulders in the locker room. He had a habit of doing that no matter what murderous look was on Katsuki's face and today when he went to shoot a glare at the red head - one he knew would just be ignored- he was met with a concerned look on Kirishima's face. “Yo man, you good? You’ve seemed kinda…”

“Extra murder-y.” Kaminari supplied.

Katsuki and Kirishima shot him a look, Katsuki’s much more threatening, but he went on. “Is everything alright? You know you can always talk to me!”

“Fuck off, I’m fine.” Was his eloquent reply and he knew Kirishima wasn’t convinced, but the red head knew enough about him to know to drop it. The look that now shifted across his face was proof he knew something was up, but he turned back to talking about some new show with Kaminari and Sero to make sure nobody else tried to take the opportunity to ask Katsuki about his oh so chipper mood. Kirishima was good at reading him like that. He seemed to always know what Katsuki meant or needed in the moment. It would be endearing if it wasn’t also equal parts annoying. Sometimes he wished the idiot would remember how damn powerful Katsuki was! But then again, Kirishima was also the perfect foil to him.

He watched as said boy grinned and laughed at something Kaminari had said, head tilting back slightly from the force of it. He was so stupidly friendly and he seemed to really want to be Katsuki’s friend if not his best one. He liked to proclaim as such at least and he guessed it was true to a degree. Kirishima knew him better than anyone else probably did and just how that happened should be concering. Just when had he allowed the idiot to figure him out so well?

Katsuki looked back at his locker with a huff, not about to give Kirishima another reason to ask about his mood again. He looked at his mask and the orange and black wing tips behind it. Looked at the orange X crossing the otherwise all black uniform. Looked at the matching heavy-duty boots and belt that housed mini versions of his quirk. Looked at how the entire ensemble represented everything he wanted to become and how his stupid hearing was likely to take all of that away.

He slammed the locker shut with more force than needed, meeting Kirishima’s gaze as he glanced over at the sound. “Meet me after dinner.” He said simply, walking off before he could see or hear the red head’s reaction.

---

Katsuki was a proud person and that was a fact that was well know. He never needed and never asked for help. He was self-sufficient and refused to lean on others to get to where he wanted to be. So reaching out to Kirishima about this was going to be a challenge. Said teen had been in his room for going on ten minutes, silently watching and waiting, sitting in his deskchair backwards as Katsuki glared daggers at the ground. It would be unnerving to have the talkative bastard so quiet if it wasn’t once again proof how well Kirishimia knew him; knew whatever was on his mind was heavy enough to make him clearly agitated and extra moody. This fact had him glance up so red eyes could meet red and at Kirishima’s concerned but patient face, he sighed and looked away.

“I can barely fuckin’ hear.” He admitted like it was the biggest secret he’d ever be forced to admit because to him, it was.

“Yeah?” Kirishima sounded confused but not in the way he had been anticipating. He was confused like you had just told him Ashido’s favorite color was pink. Like what Katsuki had just said was common knowledge.

This had Katsuki whipping his head back to look at him. “’Yeah’?! The fuck does that mean?!”

Kirishima tilted his head like he did when he could tell Katsuki was upset with him but didn’t know why. “It means yeah? Like, yeah I know?”

It was Katsuki’s turn to be confused now. “You know?”

“Dude, if it was supposed to be a secret, your awful at hiding it!” Kirishima laughed and he glared at him for it. This was supposed to be his close kept secret! His weakness nobody, except for maybe Deku, knew! Kirishima seemed to understand his inner turmoil (because of course he would) and gave the teen a small smile, moving to rub the back of his neck. “Well, maybe it just was to me? I dunno, man. I noticed from the quirk assessment we had on the first day.”

“How?!” His voice sounded more confused than annoyed.

Kirishima shrugged and moved his toe against the floor a bit to slightly spin the chair he was sitting on. A nervous habit he’d get when he was the center of attention, Katsuki noted. “You just weren’t responding to anyone. First I thought you were just kinda an asshole and ignoring people, ya know?” He looked back up at him with a grin. “But then when Aizawa-Sensei would repeat something louder and you’d respond and I saw your quirk in action, I guess I just put two-and-two together. I didn’t know it was some big secret though.”

“It’s not!” Katsuki was quick to snap but that wasn’t really true. It clearly was or his heart wouldn’t have dropped when he realized Kirishima had figured it out within hours of meeting him. He huffed to himself, not wanting to snap at Kirishima over his own overlook and looked away again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Does anyone else know?”

Kirishima hummed in thought, looking up at the ceiling. “I think all of us kinda know somethings up to varying degrees.” He must have heard the speed at which Katsuki whipped his head around because Kirishima quickly clarified, “I mean those of us in the squad. Kaminari talks louder when he’s around us. Ashido and Sero started too as well after they hung out with us for a while. I suppose it also helps that the four of us are naturally loud anyway, but they definatley talk up and more clear when they're with us.”

Katsuki just looked at him stunned. They had all figured it out? And they hadn’t ever commented on it? Made it a point to make a joke about it? Tease him about it like they endlessly teased him about everything else? They had just started to talk louder for his sake?! Here he thought they were just obnoxious assholes…

Kirishima seemed to notice his lack of anger and response and crossed his arms over the back of the chair he was sitting on, resting his head on them as he studied Katsuki carefully. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

Katsuki shot him a glare before huffing and looking away again. A nonverbal yes before he sighed, eyes closing. His mind was still reeling from the knowledge that not only did the other idiots figure it out, but that they had all apparently silently just decided to not talk about it and simply speak up and clearer so he could hear them all better. He had a plan going into this. He was going to tell Kirishima he was hard of hearing, tell him he’d known it was coming, and how he was supposed to wear hearing aids. He had planned for questions and for almost snapping at Kirishima for giving him a pitying look before quickly covering it up because Kirishima knew he hated pity. He had expected this conversation to go the opposite direction it had gone and now he was at a loss.

“They…" How was he supposed to proceed now?! "I’m supposed to wear hearing aids.” He blurted out quietly, almost hoping Kirishima didn’t hear him.

But of course he did. “So why don’t you?”

“Are you stupid?!” Kirishima frowned. It wasn’t pity on his face but almost like disappointment? That look was somehow worse and Katsuki quickly looked away from him again. “I can’t be number one like that.”

“So you’d rather just not be at your best then?”

Wellp. Anger was back. Least that was familiar over the weird sensation knowing his friends never brought up his hearing had left him with. He jerked back to face Kirishima, on his feet before he even registered he’d moved. Kirishima just looked at him with same look he had on earlier. “What?!”

“You can’t be your best if you aren’t even going to work with something that improves your skills.” Kirishima repeated, apparently oblivious to the absolute inferno of anger his words had lit. “Dude, you can’t stand there and tell me with a straight face you’d be at your absolute best going into situations as you are when you could be going in with your senses heightened. That would be like fighting with one hand tied behind you back all the time! It doesn’t make any sense, man!”

Katsuki stood where he was, keeping Kirishima’s gaze which had narrowed. It wasn’t anger, but the look he got when determination had set in and he wasn’t about to even think about budging on something. Katsuki liked to imagine it was the look he had when he tried to convince their classmates to come to Kamino Ward. What made it worse this go around was that, well, Katsuki knew he was right. “Tch.” He turned and stalked back to his bed before slumping down on it, glaring up at the ceiling as if it had personally wronged him. “What pro hero do you know wears hearing aids, shitty hair?”

“You?” That answer had Katsuki turn to shoot him a ‘stop bullshitting’ look but Kirishima’s face was so purely earnest the words died on his tongue. “Sure none of the current pros do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be the first! I bet they’ll even make some with little orange X’s on them! That would be so cool!” He gave Katsuki one of those toothy grins that rivaled the sun in brightness and it took all Katsuki had not to smile at him in return.

He scoffed and looked away instead. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but I’m right about this!” Kirishima stood up and moved to sit beside his feet on the bed. “You always are the first and best at everything. Wouldn't it be super manly to be the representation to little kids you want now?” Katsuki didn’t say anything, afraid speaking might betray how hot his face was starting to feel at Kirishima’s unbridled admiration. “Besides think of all the cool ways you could make them look! I bet you could get them like, orange to match your uniform or-!”

“They’re already orange.” Kirishima turned to look at him and Katsuki rolled his eyes at the awe on the red heads face. He knew what was coming without Kirishima even asking so he sat up to pull a small box from the far corner of his nightstand. He tossed it to Kirishima who caught and opened it, eyes growing wide.

“Dude, these look so cool!”

“No they fuckin’ don’t. Don’t lie to me-“

“I’m not, man! Dude, picture this.” He picked one of them up and held it so Katsuki could see before splaying his other fingers out behind it. “You could have them as part of you mask! I bet support could even make some super badass ones that could have another dual factor! Maybe even like Mic’s speaker thing? No, I guess that wouldn’t make sense. But maybe they can block out certain things? Like Shinsou’s quirk! Oh man, you’re an even better match for him now! Just turn them off and you can’t even hear him!” Kirishima went into a rant about all the things he thought the stupid device in his hand could be used for and honestly Katsuki wasn’t hearing any of it but not because of the hearing loss. He just watched the idiot talk, watched his lips move and hands gesture. Watched as he’d occasionally laugh at something he’d thought of and how his smile reached his eyes when he did. How he was so excited just to sit here and come up with dumb ideas and how happy he was that Katsuki was potentially going to be an even better hero.

That thought alone made Katsuki’s heart jump again. Kirishima had really meant it about being an example. He really did think wearing the stupid devices would make him a better hero. Didn’t think it would make him any less of a person or any less of a pro. Kirishima genuinely didn’t think less or pity him for it and it actually seemed like he was furious that Katsuki would risk throwing his own dream of being a hero away just because of two tiny devices that would help him.

It was almost too much for him.

“You’re an idiot.” He repeated. Kirishima stopped talking and looked at him. He was still smiling and Katsuki was willing to bet that he was too if the slight tug at his lips was any indicator. “Fuckin’-! Fine, you rambling moron. I’ll wear the damn things tomorrow.”

The grin he got in return had to rival the brightest light in the galaxy and before he could open his mouth to warn against it, Kirishima tackled him back on the bed. The curses and explosions he sent in return were simply laughed off and otherwise ignored.

---

True to his word, Katsuki stood in front of his mirror with the small devices in his hand. He looked at his reflection without them, took in the way he looked one last time as if he could never go back to this look before sliding them in and turning them on as he remembered the doctor demonstrating. He winced at the resistance he was met with as they flickered to life but looked back at his reflection once they were snugly in and properly adjusted. His hair hid them for the most part, ash blond strands hanging low enough that unless he really looked, he couldn’t see them. Maybe that meant nobody else would since he was actually looking for them. He let out a sigh and turned to grab his bag. He doubted that severely. He swore quietly to himself, ignoring how it actually wasn't as quiet as he thought, and started the trek to class.

The walk out of the dorms and into the school was… different? He could hear things he hadn’t otherwise heard before. He could hear birds chirping in the trees he walked under, bits and pieces of conversations of the people he passed, that one weirdo from 1-B saying something and even the faint smack that followed as that orange haired chick apologized for him. It was almost like he’d been listening to the TV volume only turned up to 2 and now suddenly it was changed to 10. It would be overwhelming if he were anyone else, he guessed. Katsuki imagined this is what those videos of colorblind people wearing those special glasses was like. To experience the world with a sense that was dulled for so long only to be informed that said sense could be much better.

He’d spent so much time glaring at the stupid things and then fiddling with them to get them adjusted that he’d been beaten to class by the self proclaimed ‘Bakusquad’. Kirishima was sitting on Sero's desk facing the door and when he spotted Katsuki, broke back out into that same grin he did that rivaled the light flickering in from the windows. “Hey, Bakugou!” He raised an arm in greeting, grabbing the attention of the other idiots who all turned to greet him though not as enthusiastically as Kirishima. Not much of a surprise considering the red head was very clearly the only morning person among them.

Katsuki tsk'ed in greeting but Kirishima seemed to be studying him harder than usual and it was pretty clear what he was searching for. So with a roll of his eyes, Katsuki turned his head slightly so Kirishima could see the small bit of orange poking out from under his hair and if the smile he was greeted with was bright, this one was blinding. He didn’t say anything much to Katsuki's relief, just looked back at Kaminari despite his grin not fading as Katsuki walked over to his desk and tossed his bag down. Such a stupid little thing and Kirishima was grinning like he'd won the lottery.

Class was almost night and day.

He could hear Aizawa’s lazy tone easily, better than he had ever remembered being able to. He didn't need to rely on his handouts and the board to take notes. It was considerably easier to understand Ectoplasm now too and, much to his sheer and utter annoyance, he could hear Deku muttering to himself again. It was annoying, sure, and he almost considered taking the stupid things out to prevent it, but the fact that he actually could stopped him. Even Deku's muttering couldn't quite distract from the almost wonder he had. He could also pick up on Kaminari and Kirishima whispering though he coldn't make out what. (Probably about the math problem Ectoplasm just wrote down.)

The lunchroom was another experience. He hadn’t ever heard it this loud and he muttered to Sero if something special was happening because of the noise before Sero eyed him confused and said it was always this loud. Huh. He knew it should be considering the amount of teenagers cramed into it, but the thought hadn't really ever crossed his mind just how loud it should be. It was almost painful. Their usual table was at least a little quieter since it was in the far back. Katsuki was actually able to hear Kaminari approaching without relying on the slight ting of electricity in the air that usually was his give away. He looked up and watched as he and Kirishima stepped over towards them, caught up in some conversation about something, only stopping when Kirishima moved away and took his usual spot beside Katsuki while Kaminari went to sit in front of him.

“Hey, Bakubro! You look-“

Katsuki winced. “Fuck, can you maybe not talk so damn loud?!” He brought his hands up to his ears, wincing as they gave off feedback which he assumed was due to the mentioned static Kaminari gave off. Maybe he really should speak to support about upgrading them if he was going to start using them more. Wait, was that going to be a thing? He'd told Kirishima he'd wear them today; not from then on. When had he decided this was going to be a permanent thing?

He was lost in his own thoughts about if this so he missed the way Sero, Ashido, and Kaminari looked at each other, then at him, then back to one another. “Uh? He’s talking like he usually does. Which yeah, it’s loud, but it’s his usual volume.” Sero defended, looking all the world like Katsuki had just started sprouting a second head.

Shit.

Katsuki huffed and looked down pointedly at his lunch, taking a bite of rice to further avoid meeting their gaze. “Well tone it the fuck down, dunce-face.”

Kirishima was pointedly quiet while the three others sat in silence for a joyous and nerve wracking moment. He wondered briefly if they would just drop it, but no, he was never that lucky. He heard a gasp, knew it was Ashido, and jerked his gaze back up just as she leaned across the table and reached over to move his hair aside. “You got hearing aids!”

“Fuckin’-! Don’t touch me!” He swatted her hand away but the damage was done.

She was grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh my gosh, they look so good! That color is going to match your uniform perfectly!”

“Nice, dude! When did you get those?”

“Does this mean you’ll answer when I ask you for help now?”

“I think he was just always ignoring you, Kami.”

"What? No! Why would he do that?"

"Because you ask him for answers on every problem rather than how to solve it?"

Bakugou watched the three teens in front of him suddenly turn on Kaminari, laughing at the other blond’s expense. They hadn’t even flinched at him wearing them! No jokes, no sympathetic looks, nothing! They just took it in stride as if he’d said the weather outside was cool. He looked over at Kirishima to get confirmation that he wasn’t insane and they had really found out what he deemed his weakness. Kirishima met his gaze with a knowing grin and a shrug of his shoulders, a silent ‘I-told-you-it-wasn’t-a-big-deal’ look on his face. Katsuki shot him a glare but turned back to his meal to try and hide the smile he knew would betray any small amount of anger it may have had.

They didn't seem to care. He'd spent so much of his life dreading the day he'd have to wear these stupid things. Dreading the way people would look at or perceive him. He was Bakugou Katsuki and the only way he should be looked at was with admiration or fear; not pity or sympathy, and he whole heartedly believed that was going to be the outcome wearing these would bring. He expected the three idiots in front of him to make a huge ordeal about it, but they just seemed relieved and excited. Just like Kirishima had been.

Maybe having friends wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

---

After that, Katsuki wore them daily. They became second nature from then on and he wanted to be surprised that nobody seemed to even flinch at them, but after seeing his friend’s reactions, he really wasn't. What was supposed to be a weakness was nothing more than another area he could work with. Something Katsuki could train and hone like his quirk. He’d even followed Kirishima’s idea and got a pair that would work with his mask. They got upgraded to protect his remaining hearing from his explosions while enhancing it. His regular ones got an upgrade as well so they’d stop sending him feedback every time Kaminari got within a foot of him which spared Kaminari getting threatened and snapped at so it was a win for him as well. (Both pairs were returned black with an orange X printed on them and Kirishima swore he knew nothing about it.)

Months passed and it was hard to imagine he’d ever put up such a fight to wear the stupid things. They really did make a difference and it was even better knowing nobody felt the need to shout at him. Part of him wondered just how many people did but also didn’t think his pride could risk asking. It was like nothing had changed and while he wouldn’t ever admit it, it was apparent he had worried and put this off for absolutely no reason. His friends rolled with it like nothing had happened and that alone, while he refused to admit it, was the real reason he continued to keep it up after the first day. The idiots seemed to be full of surprises, especially Kirishima.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise what happened one night during the middle of their second year. The pair were up late in Bakugou’s room going over the latest math homework they’d been given. Well, more like Katsuki was going over Kirishima’s since his was already finished. At some point he’d taken his hearing aids out figuring he wouldn’t really need them in the quiet of his room.

He marked one last problem Kirishima needed to look over and handed the paper back. The red head took it then asked ‘Do you want to go get something to eat?’

“Yeah sure.”

He pushed himself up and brought an arm back behind his head to stretch it out and then it dawned on him. Kirishima hadn’t spoken. His lips hadn’t moved.

“What?!”

Kirishima startled at his yelling. “I asked-“

“I know what you asked!” Katsuki was pretty sure he must look strange because Kirishima was looking at him with sheer, utter confusion. “It’s- it’s how you asked it!”

The red head blinked at him in confusion, clearly not understanding why Katsuki was suddenly so upset. “What about it?”

“You signed!”

“Yeah?” He held the ‘ea’ sound out as if the pause would help him figure out what had happened. Katsuki could feel his face heating up. “Dude, I’m so confused right now. What’s wrong?”

“You-! You fuckin’ signed to me!”

“Yeah, you covered that part. What about it?”

“When the fuck did you learn it?!”

Kirishima still looked at him baffled. “Dude, I’ve known for years. My mom is hard of hearing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t think I’d need to? I sign to you all the time, man!” Now it was Katsuki’s turn to look lost. He looked at the red head for a few minutes as if he’d just told him some world altering view, which he kinda did. “You good, bro?”

“No I’m not ‘good’! When the fuck have you ever signed to me?!” Though as the question left his lips, memories started replaying in his head. One’s of Kirishima casually signing ‘lunch?’ while verbally saying they should head to grab a bite to eat. Memories of Kirishima signing ‘that was awesome!’ after Katsuki did some impressive move in training. Of Kirishima’s fingers moving to ask him to pass his notes back over. Vision after vision of Kirishima slipping it into such casual setting from the first weeks he knew him and wow, okay that did something to his heart.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed it before? When the hell had Kirishima become such a casual part of his life that him speaking in a language hardly anyone knew became second nature? How had he learned so much about Katsuki without him ever knowing the red head was close enough to figure him out? Why did he decide to dedicate so much of his energy and time to be around him?!

“Dude?” He looked over at Kirishima who was now looking at him worried. “I was kinda kidding when I asked if you were good but now I’m actually worried. Are you alright? You look, like, sick."

Katsuki dropped to his knees in front of the red head who was looking even more concerned now. He opened his mouth, probably to once again ask if Katsuki was okay, when Katsuki put his hands on either side of his head and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t anything spectacular on the outside, just a chaste kiss, but it was an awakening for Katsuki who avoided feelings and distractions. Katsuki who had mentioned romance was the furthest thing on his mind when Ashido asked him back in first year if he was interested in anyone. So yeah, it wasn’t the most romantic of kisses as Katsuki hadn’t exactly kissed anyone aside from one or two people back in middle school and Kirishima hadn’t exactly moved or leaned into it let alone reacted.

Wait, shit. Kirishima hadn’t reacted.

That thought had him pulling back immediately, apology already forming but going unspoken as Kirishima mirrored the gesture of grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Now it was Katsuki’s turn to be shocked but it faded in seconds, eyes closing on instinct as he moved to rest his hands on Kirishima’s hips. Kirishima in turn gently cupped the side of his face, guiding Katsuki’s head to tilt to the side slightly so he could deepen it. Alright, this one was much better than the pitiful one Katsuki had just done. Kirishima’s lips slid against his like they were meant to be connected and his hands lit Katsuki’s skin on fire. The feeling was like wearing his hearing aids for the first time. Like reawakening a sense that had been muted for years. He didn’t want it to end but after one last slow kiss, Kirishima pulled back, lips parted as he breathed.

Katsuki opened his eyes and blinked down at him, no doubt looking as kiss-drunk as the red head. Kirishima beamed back up at him, cheeks tinted red which Katsuki could feel his own face mimicking. He glanced away as if that would hide it, ignoring the way his heart rate picked up when Kirishima’s arms moved to wrap around his waist, head resting against his chest. He had about a billion things he wanted to say, knew Kirishima had about a billion he probably wanted to ask, but of course the red head knew him well enough to know he needed a minute before he spoke. Kirishima knew him so well. How did he not ever connect these dots and do this sooner?!

“So you like me.”

Alright, maybe not the elegant response he wanted but he earned a laugh from Kirishima. He shrugged and looked up at him so Katsuki could see his lips, smile still present. “What finally gave that away?”

Katsuki could feel his face flush anew. “’Finally’?”

“I haven’t exactly been trying to hide it from you.”

“You never fuckin’ said anything!”

“Again, never thought I’d need to.”

And alright, that was fair if he thought about it. He frowned but it was more at himself than at Kirishima and he ducked his head down to rest against the red head’s shoulder, the red head pulling him close. “You have awful taste.” He muttered to which Kirishima just hummed, lightly resting his head against the side of Katsuki’s.

They stayed like that for a while longer before Kirishima’s stomach made them remember what had started this whole ordeal in the first place. As they stood up and started to head out, Katsuki paused and turned grabbing his hearing aids and sliding them into place, ignoring the way Kirishima’s face lit up at the simple motion. He didn’t comment on it though, only taking Katsuki’s hand for a whole second before dropping it. Katsuki arched a brow, about to ask what was wrong.

‘I really, really like you, Katsuki.’

Katsuki was pretty sure his face was currently redder than the idiot in front of him’s hair and mumbled a quiet “Fuck you” as he lightly punched his shoulder. Kirishima laughed and caught Katsuki’s hand before it fell away. He went to lace their fingers together and tug him down the hall but Katsuki stayed rooted to the spot. Kirishima looked back at him, head tilting in the ‘whats-up’ way he did before Katsuki pulled his hand back.

‘You are an idiot, but I like you too.’

It shouldn’t be a surprise the way Kirishima’s eyes lit up. It shouldn’t be breath taking the blinding smile such a simple statement was met with. It shouldn’t make his heart skip when he was rewarded with another kiss. None of it should be but here Katsuki was, arms wrapped around this dumb, red headed ray of sunshine who managed to do the impossible.

#KiriBaku #Bakugou Katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #BakuShima #Deaf Bakugou #Bakugou #Kirishima #BNHA #Boku no Hero Academia #My Hero Academia #MHA #klutzys writing

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just-dreaming-about · 4 years

Text

This is another fanfic from the Weasley Twins, this time it's George turn. I had the idea of this while watching this great anime Carole and Tuesday, I just listen this song "Someday I'll find my way home" and the scene just come to my mind so I just needed to write it. But you can think in another song you like so much for this fic. I just hope you enjoy it!

You have to risk

Mia Cherslon was the perfect Hufflepuff in Hogwarts' history except for one thing; she always made her house lose points. It wasn't that she wanted to get into troubles, she didn't fight with anyone, she couldn't hex another student, even challenging a teacher's authority was unthinkable for her. But she had a musician's heart that always get her in troubles, she was always listening to the muses and always humming a song that only she could hear. That's why she get distracted in classes and always get caught writing things that had nothing to do with the class, she manage to forget do her homework or staying up late working on her music that was late for class even to exams. She wasn't really popular outside her house but everyone in fifth year knew her. Some laughed at her as she passed but she was too absorbed in her music to listen to them.

Mia was a half witch; her father's family were muggles and her mother's family were wizards. Her father's family didn't understand her mother's very well and that's why they hardly ever visited them, but her father got along with the magical family and there was always laughs at home. Aunt Cassiopea was her favorite visit because she was a well-known singer in the wizarding world and always went to interesting places to sing. Thanks to her she found her passion for music. Aunt Cass always encouraged her in this, even if her parents insisted she should find another goal for her life. She tough her how to read and make scores, how to develop a special love for pianos songs, she was so strict with her at their sing lessons and she loved her so much... She wanted to be like her in the future.

The only thing Mia was disappointed was with her schedule in Hogwarts. It was suffocating. Fifth year seemed even harder than fourth with the OWLs, everyone was stressing her because she had to choose the path she wanted to take in life. But no OWL would let her sing and that was all she wanted to do. That's why she was skipping classes today, she told her roommates that she wasn't feeling well and that later she would stop by the infirmary but as soon as she had the opportunity she locked herself in music class. She needed a day off.

Her hands played with the keys of the piano and soon she got lost in one of the many rhythms that lately haunted her head. This was a new kind of magic, one special and unique. All her stress was gone and all that was left was her music. She wasn't aware of the time that had passed, the lyrics of the song came and went from her mind, she wrote and crossed out in her improvised score, she interrupted and started again. She was so concentrated in this new song she was creating that when someone suddenly opened the door, Mia jumped.

He was a red-haired boy with big, scared eyes, tall and handsome. His uniform was misplaced, he was sweating and panting as if he had been running all over the castle. He was looking from one side of the room to the other, he had barely noticed the girl's presence and when he saw her, he gestured for her to remain silent before hiding among the instruments in the background.

-You pretend you haven't seen me. Keep up with whatever you were doing -he said.

At first she was so confused that she tried to play some notes before turning to him.

-What are you doing now, Weasley?

-You know me?

Now the situation was even more confusing. Was he making fun of her? Because she could handle an abuser on her own if necessary. Furthermore, he had interrupted her moment.

-Who do you think you're talking to? -crossed her arms- We have been classmates for five years, of course I know you. Well, I don't know which twin you are exactly but you know what I mean.

He was smiling at that point but a noise in the hallway alerted him.

-Okay, okay. I'm George. Could you do me a favor and pretend you haven't seen me?

Strong footsteps approached the other side of the door and George's eyes looked at her pleadingly. She bit her lower lip, blushing because she wasn't used to playing in public, returned to her upright position at the piano and began to play again, letting herself be carried along and humming the unfinished lyrics. She was used to playing with her family and singing with her aunt so sing for a unknown person was a big change. Even if that unknown person was a classmate for five years. She couldn't remember a single time that she had spoken to him but here they were; him hiding from whatever terrified him as it approached down the hall and she showing him the most intimate and sensitive part of herself. This was a terrific experience.

The doors opened again this time to show the concierge Filch who seemed angry but it was difficult to be sure of it.

-Good morning, have you seen anyone around here? Tall, redhead, a nightmare for this school.

-No, sir -she answered a little scared- I've been alone all morning.

Filch mumbled something to himself and left the room, but before closing the door he looked at her again.

-Shouldn't you be in class, young lady?

For a second the panic seized her but she recovered herself in a blink and smiled;

-I'm waiting for Professor Flitwick. He's tutoring me today to improve my charms grades.

-Shouldn't it be in charms class?

-He said that I had to wait here. Is that a problem?

Filch mumble something like 'I suppose not' before leave the room and close the door. She let out the air she didn't know she was holding and almost gave her heart a jump when she saw George on the other side of the piano with a big smile on his face.

-Thanks for saving me, Cherslon.

-You know my name?

Now it was George's turn to be confused, and Mia felt that she had said the greatest nonsense Hogwarts had ever heard. Mia may have been used to turning a deaf ear to comments made about her in the hallways but insecurity was something that went hand in hand with her.

-Of course I know your name! You sit behind me and my brother in transfiguration. I was surprised that you knew mine.

-Why? -she frowned- You and your brother are very well known in the castle, everyone talks about your jokes and wants to be your friends. Why shouldn't I know your name?

Now George's ears were turning red and he scratched his cheek.

-Well, you're... Mia Cherslon... And...

Now it was Mia's turn to blush, someone else teasing her. She already had enough. She got up and started to collect her things.

-Woah, where are you going?

-Somewhere where no one else makes fun of me. Do you think it's funny? Do you think it's another joke? Well let me clarify something, I am a person and I have feelings. I know what others are saying behind my back and I don't care, but if you come to make fun of me in my face, don't think for a second that I'm going to allow it.

George was speechless, hands raised showing innocence because at some point he had tried to interrupt her but was now open-mouthed. It was, perhaps, the first time he had seen Mia Cherslon stand up to someone, they had spoken to him about this because it had happened once or twice but he had never seen it with his own eyes. Only when the girl finished putting her things in her bag and started heading towards the exit, he come to his senses and put himself between the door and the girl.

-Wait, wait, wait. I wasn't making fun of you. I was trying to say that you're always in your own world -he saw the anger in her eyes and he tried to repair it quickly- and that isn't a bad thing, you know?

She looked at him suspiciously and squeezed the hand gripping the handle of her bag. She took a step back, studying him with her eyes and George felt the girl's eyes run him up and down. The redhead didn't know if he liked it or it scared him.

-What do you want, Weasley?

-I was looking for a place to hide from Filch, I was the one interrupting you. You shouldn't go, I should. I'm sorry.

He looked so sincere that she blushed again and squeezed again her hand.

-No problem I was finishing already. I'm stuck and couldn't continue.

-Are you talking about that song? Are you telling me that you have written that song?

He was so surprised that the blush in her face increased. It wasn't like he was making fun of her and she didn't know how to react because it was the first time someone at Hogwarts had heard her play.

-Y-Yes? -she answered but it sounded more like a question, embarrassing her even more.

-Are you asking me? -the smile in his face growing playfully- Because I asked before.

-Shut up, Weasley. I'm leaving.

The blush in her face was obvious and the red-haired boy was delighted with that. He always thought Mia Cherslon was the prettiest girl of their year but she always seemed absorbed in her own world, always humming something or writing something, ignoring people and focusing so much on her things. He never thought that music would be what had her so focused but now he knew it he could do something to talk to her. This was his chance.

-Wait please -he took her arm to stop her- I just want to talk with you. We have spent five years in the same class and we don't know each other.

-But I know you -she said shyly and blushing again- You're George Weasley, always hanging out with your twin Fred playing pranks around the castle.

-That's all you know about me? I'm more than just pranks.

The blush in her face wasn't gone, he was so serious at his words but still smiling at her at the time. But she wasn't used to people just being nice to her if not ended up in a bad joke. She couldn't trust him right now.

-What do you want, Weasley? Because if this is a joke...

-It's not a joke. Trust me -to the girl's mistrust he scratched his cheek, thinking and when he found something, his smile lit up the entire music room or that's what Mia thought for a second- You said that you write songs?

-I don't said that...

-Would you sing for me?

Her heart started bumping so loud that she was sure he heard it. She started rambling about she had never sung for anyone, her songs weren't that good or she had not even finished the one she was writing before but then he interrupted her.

-What I heard sounded good. I'm not an expert but I liked it.

And as simple as that, Mia was sitting at the piano again, this time with George at her side, her hands sweating and her heart trembling. She started scolding herself, if she couldn't sing to one person, how did she pretend to become a singer like Aunt Cass? George absentmindedly pressed a piano key sounding the note wrong and she hacked him back, once again furious.

-You can't just play the keys like that! You have to have respect for the instrument, touch it, caress it as if it were something precious, something fragile. Almost as...

-A lover?

This time both of them blushed but she looked away quickly. She looked at the keys and took a deep breath but before her hands pressed the keys she frowned at him.

-Don't look at me like that!

-How do I look at you? -he started smiling again making her blush even more.

-You... Just like that!

-This is ridiculous -George laughed.

-If you don't like it, I'm leaving -she threatened.

George sighed to keep from laughing anymore but he did as he was asked and sat with his back to the piano and looked at the back of the room.

-That's good for you?

Mia didn't respond, she was making sure George didn't look at her but he didn't push her, he was very amused by the situation and willing to hear her. She took a deep breath and then started off with insecure notes gaining confidence with each note. At first she was just humming the song but then she started to sing the lyrics she already had.

George was amazed to see the drastic change the girl was showing. Down the hallways for all those years he had thought she was a carefree person, her world was the only thing that mattered to her and now he saw why. When Mia played she was a Mia with total self-confidence, she let herself be carried away by music and it embraced her. With her eyes fixed on her hands and keys, she didn't notice George staring at her, caught up in the girl's beauty and music. If it were up to him, they would stay in this moment forever. A pleasant melody and nostalgic lyrics that made him think of lazy summer days in the Burrows. The memory of his home, of his family, filled him with affection and looking at her, so happy as she sang, he thought that Mia was the type of girl that his father would approve of and that his mother would love. That new thought made him blush again and, while the girl hummed the end of the song because she had not yet written that part and the melody was coming to an end, he looked away from her, returning to the back of the classroom.

Mia waited for a comment that didn't come and her confidence fell. She looked down at her shaky hands as she scolded herself, what had she thought of? She hadn't finished the song, surely she shouldn't even finish it because it was horrible. Maybe she should have taught him a different one, the one Aunt Cass helped her compose on Christmas for example that one was good and finished. When George looked back at her the tears were building in Mia's eyes.

-What's happening?

-You think it's horrible -she whispered.

-Why do you say that?

-You didn't said nothing! What else would be?

George mentally cursed himself and put a hand on the girl's shoulder.

-I think it is beautiful.

-Do you really believe it or are you just saying it because I'm crying? -she sniffed.

Mia was busy brushing away the tears that were starting to stream down her cheeks that didn't notice George's gaze. If she had noticed George's gaze, she would have blushed again.

-Really -he whispered but she could hear him.

Tear-free she looked at George who had changed his expression to a wide smile.

-Sorry, it is the first time that I teach someone my songs and since you didn't respond I started to think that...

-Don't think that never again, Mia. You really got me with that song -he brought the hand that was still on the girl's shoulder to his own chest- I could fall in love with you right now, Cherslon, and I'm not lying.

Mia blushed again and gently shoved the boy, looking back at the piano with a shy smile on her face. He called her by her name and sounded wonderful on his lips.

-You are a fool, Weasley.

-Well, thank you.

They laughed together and then stayed in a comfortable silence, she was looking at the piano while he was looking at the other side of the room. Both smiling.

-Cherslon, you said you have never sung for anyone. What about your family?-he asked gently, his soft voice trying not to break the peace that enveloped them.

-Oh, they sing with me -she laughed- Actually my aunt taught me everything I know. She is the only one who understands me.

From the tone in which Mia said those last words, George thought that this was indeed a song he knew.

-Your parents are against?

-Something like that -she signed- They allow me to practice whatever I want, they even bought me my piano but they want me to be more realistic, they don't want me to take my love for music any further than as a hobby...

-I understand you perfectly.

She looked at him surprised but he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at his hands.

-Do you?-she whispered.

-My twin and I... We have totally different plans for our future than our parents would like. We have a dream and we want to fulfill it at all costs -now he looked at her with a little smile, the kind of smile that gives you understanding- Look, we have found something in common.

She laughed again, her smile growing.

-You know, even if I'm a little shy...

-Just a little? -now he laughed.

-Shut up, Weasley -she blushed again- Even that... I'm proud of my music, I want to give it a try. I don't know if it will work but ...

-You have to risk -he finished with that beautiful smile that was beginning to awaken butterflies in her stomach.

-Exactly -she whispered.

They laughed together, again. He was starting to love that laugh. He helped her to collect her things and the two of them left the music room at the same time that the others students left their classes.

-Do you have class now? -he asked while holding the door for her.

-Actually... I kind of skipped classes today so I have to go to the infirmary.

-Oh, so you're a criminal too, Miss Cherslon -he joked- Would you mind if I go with you? I have to look for someone who is almost like me.

-Just almost like you? -she was smiling already before hear him.

-Because I'm the handsome twin, obviously.

They went to the infirmary together, talking and laughing as if they were lifelong friends. Some students saw and commented on them but they were focused on each other.

-Your stop, miss Cherslon -he bowed dramatically.

-You can call me Mia... If you want.

George's big smile was his answer and she approached the door of the infirmary without saying anything more with the intention of ending the talk. Deep in his mind she began to think that this would never happen again, that it had been the result of a fortuitous encounter and that George would be ashamed to be seen with her again but then he called her so she turned to look at him curious.

-I was wondering if I could go back to the music room another day and listen to you again.

This caught her by surprise, and even more when she realized that George's cheeks were almost as red as his hair. That made her more nervous than she was and tightened the grip on her bag handle. All the girl could do was nod, then fled to the infirmary without waiting for an answer.

That was the first of many meetings between them, for the rest of the year they continued to hang out in the music room when it was empty, now George accompanied Mia to almost all of her classes and it seemed that they only separated for eating, classes and sleeping.

Despite what they secretly wanted, they weren't always alone. Fred was the first to insist that George should take his new friend with them because he wanted to meet the person who had his brother so happy lately. The truth is that Mia and Fred got along right away, the redhead had already liked her from the moment he saw the smiles that her twin and she shared and, although they denied it, he bothered them that they had to start dating he would either vomit on how corny they are. The rest of George's family at Hogwarts and his friends quickly accepted her, too. On the other hand, Mia's friends, who were only three, didn't seem to trust the Weasley that accompanied her everywhere and were afraid of being victims of his jokes but they were also glad that Mia was happier and more trusting thanks to George.

That summer, despite the fact that both, Fred and George, were very insistent, Mia didn't go to the burrow because her aunt Cass was going to spend a few weeks at her house to rest from her last tour in Europe. And she brought gifts!

As the new year began Mia realized how much she had missed George seeing him on the train and to everyone's surprise she ran into his arms the moment he saw him across the train. It was an embarrassing moment for both of them that Fred took care to remember during the first days of class. Not even the news of the triwizard tournament distracted him from his duty to annoy his twin.

To George's frustration, those first few weeks of the new school year passed almost without seeing Mia beyond the few classes they shared together and the stolen moments in the music room. Their friendship had grown more intimate and they were both comfortable with each other's presence, as Mia was no longer so nervous when he put an arm around her shoulders or hugged her while playing the piano.

And that's how they were now, Mia playing the piano trying to finish a new song and he just sitting next to her, listening. Winter had come very quickly and they had already announced that there would be a dance for Christmas and the whole castle was nervous. But they were there, in their little world enjoying each other's company.

Mia looked at George for a second, his eyes were closed and a calm smile on his face, that made her smile too before focusing again on the keys. Gently, almost without noticing, George's hands slid around her waist and soon his chin rested on her head. Her smile widened but she didn't stop playing. George was dying to say so many things to Mia, like she was beautiful in his quidditch jersey he had left her because she was cold or he liked it when she tried to teach him to play because she took his hands delicately or he could continue pretending he didn't notice that from time to time she turned to look at him while he listening to her play.

He could stay like this forever but there was something missing, something he couldn't say and he wished she would let him say.

So he mustered up all the courage he could and muttered;

-Are you coming to the Ball with me?

And like every time George caught Mia by surprise while playing, her hands played the wrong notes making the piano scream. But none moved. Partly because George was afraid of Mia's face. Partly because Mia was afraid it was another George joke.

-You mean as friends? -she asked in a whisper.

-Would you like to go as something else? -He answered whispering too.

Mia thought yes, she would love to go as something else. Girlfriend maybe? Was that what George was asking her? Her head was in trouble and she didn't know if saying something could spoil what they had or what they could have.

On the other hand, George thought that not all of his mother's quarrels had scared him as much as he felt now. But he had to be brave, Fred had told him. He was a Gryffindor, a lion, he had to value him and that's what he did. He separated from Mia, enough to be able to look at her without letting go of her hug. She was still with her hands outstretched on the piano but her notes had long since faded and her expression reflected surprise, fear and hope?

After so much time together, George could read Mia like an open book and he supposed that she could read him because she always knew when he urgently needed to flee to the music room with her.

And then she looked at him and he knew how to read on her face what she couldn't express in words.

He simply raised his hand to her cheek, each second his confidence increasing as the smile grew on his face and he leaned down to kiss her. Simply their lips touched, he wasn't going to do anything she didn't want to, but it was so liberating for him and so revealing for her. So when he parted, he was surprised to see Mia raise her knee to the piano bench for support, her hands taking his cheeks and her lips his. This kiss was more intimate, slower, more intense. Her lips moving awkwardly because it was Mia's first kiss and she was nervous but he thought it was perfect. When they separated they both smiled widely.

-This is a yes? -George's smile turned playful.

-Yes, you big dumbass -she laughed as blushing at the time.

-Your big dumbass, woman. Speak properly.

They laughed together, like always from the day they really met. He kissed her forehead with so love that she blush again and just stared at her a few seconds before kissing her lips again.

-You're my girlfriend now -he said flatly.

-Aren't you supposed to ask me first? -she laughed hiding her face in his neck while hugging him.

He hugged her firmly and kissed her head.

-You would say yes. Who would say no to the handsome twin?

#fanfiction #fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter oc #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine

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quantumfeat72 · 5 years

Text

i just wanna get some words down

i made a comic a while ago about my experience learning ASL, and it still gets notes every now and then. i wrote that comic on a Bad Day, when i’d just taken a test and assumed i’d flunked it. a couple weeks later, i got that test back and found out my teacher had given me an A.

i’m autistic, and i’ve had issues with sensory processing since i was little. it’s not uncommon for me to hear someone perfectly well and not understand a word they’re saying. i’m mostly faceblind, and occasionally nonverbal

i’m finishing up my second semester of asl class now, and autism has simultaneously been my greatest hurdle and my greatest asset in these classes.

on one hand - i still can’t fucking process information half the time, and ASL involves a LOT of eye contact, and this semester my hearing aids for my misophonia (which play white noise) are usually louder than my Deaf teacher when she uses english to explain signs or assignments.

she usually signs as she speaks and i’ll understand about a third of the sign and about a third of the english and piece together her meaning based on that. this is something i learned how to do because of my autism and adhd - i can space out for a good 5 seconds of a conversation in english and jump right back in like nothing happened

i’ve learned to quickly go through the process of “i don’t know/didn’t hear that word - what’s the context, how can i figure out what it means”

i’ve overcompensated for my difficulty communicating in english by actively studying the language for most of my life, and that instinct has helped me so much in these classes. but still, when i don’t understand someone perfectly i tend to panic and fixate on that, not letting the conversation continue

anyway

something else i’ve learned - something i think is far more interesting - is the similarities between Deaf and autistic struggles, activism, and community. because so much of the shit abled people do around us is manifested in exactly the same way

i bet if you’re in either one of these communities you’ve heard “if you teach your kid sign they’ll never learn to speak.” (complete bullshit, in both contexts)

Deaf and autistic people are usually born to families that, well, aren’t. this is part of the connection i’ve made between autism and the queer community, but it’s even more similar to the Deaf community

because, well, we do share a first language with our parents, usually, but "communication issues” are part of the diagnostic criteria for autism - we tend to have trouble with metaphor, with ambiguous language, with anything allistic people don’t feel the need to specify. i can remember so many times when i felt trapped and frustrated because i couldn’t communicate with my own family

and it isn’t the family’s fault. my parents didn’t even know i was autistic until a year ago, and i’m 21

the biggest difference, and the reason i keep coming back to this, is that the Deaf community is So Much Older. it makes sense - Deaf people share a whole language nowdays that they don’t share with hearing people, and autistic people haven’t had as many chances to gather with others like us

i want to learn more about the Deaf community, because i think the autistic community has a lot to learn from them. we still have a whole ass hate group people donate to and bring autistic kids to hoping to “cure” them. i think, at least i hope, the history of the Deaf community can help us burn Autism $peaks

and, you know, we still face a lot of the same bullshit from abled people. i’ve seen Deaf people talk recently about how for christ’s sake “deaf” isn’t a bad word, they’re not broken, and well, that’s exactly why so many autistic people find it important to say “autistic person” rather than “person with autism.” it’s not some horrible thing, it’s just how we are

when i first got my hearing aids, the audiologist made a point of saying how discrete they are, and i was confused by it. like, yeah, you can’t tell i’m wearing them unless you look closely, and that’s convenient sometimes, but she acted like wearing a hearing aid was something to be ashamed of

i’m not really sure where i’m going with this, and if you’ve read this far then wow, thanks, but i guess what i’m trying to say is, if i ever manage to get into autism advocacy and activism, i want to look closely at the Deaf community’s history first. i want to figure out what they did that worked, and how we can follow in their footsteps

i want autistic kids, kids like me, to grow up knowing they’re not broken, with a language they can understand, in a community that accepts them

i guess in the end, that’s all anyone wants

#writing #autism #deaf #asl #misophonia #long post #mine #some people write 800 word essays to COPE sharon #but yeah #the longer im in asl classes the more i keep going 'same hat!' @ the Deaf community #except its more like 'same communal trauma!'#ok class is starting im just gonna post and go

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miracufic · 6 years

Text

A Broken Window

Read it on AO3!

Look at LaLa’s wonderful art!

Look at Tachimon’s glorious art!

There are few things that Uraraka Ochako hates more than love at the moment.

In point of fact there are only two things. One of them is pity.

The other is poverty.

And of course because her life is such a wellspring of light and joy and fun fun fun she gets to experience all three right fucking now at the hands of one Midoriya Izuku, who had come sailing through her window not three seconds earlier, trailing ribbons of smoke.

“I am so sorry,” he says as he tries to extricate himself from the broken, tangled mess that had been her coffee table, television, and fan. Plastic crunches under his sneakers, and he winces.

“Oh, shoot,” he says. “Uraraka, I am—crud, I am so, so sorry, look, I can pay you back, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He means well, she reminds herself. It was one of the things that makes him so—likeable, which was absolutely the word she’d been thinking of, he was earnest and compassionate and had a sense of responsibility that yes, sometimes was a touch on the broad side and she was spiraling again.

She takes in a deep breath and refocuses.

"Midoriya," she says, her voice much calmer than she thought was possible given the situation. “Go."

"Look, at least let me help clean this up for you—"

“I said go,” Uraraka repeats, and her voice snaps out this time, making Midoriya flinch away from her as though from a whip. He holds both his hands up as he backs towards the door, his palms towards her, until his back hits the smooth metal of her dormitory door. Then he reaches back and fumbles for the handle.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

The lock clicks against the reinforced steel of the frame as he opens the door, and clicks again as he carefully pulls it shut.

Right. Now.

Uraraka breathes in and out steadily in the sudden quiet filling her room. Wind whistles in through the shattered window, carrying in the sounds of a raised voice—Bakugou, she guesses, from the number of expletives being thrown around—and several other, quieter voices, their register low.

It does little to keep the lid down on the roiling mess of her emotions.

First comes the rapid set of mental calculations and the grim, mathematical realization, following on the heels of her dismay, that she has maybe enough slack in her bank account to cover the cost of her coffee table. And that assumes that the local thrift stores have something, that she can survive taking a chunk out of her food budget for the next two weeks, and that the school isn’t going to charge her for damages to her dorm. Second is the billowing, seething hurt that Midoriya would dare to condescend to her like that. Pay? As if she wasn’t responsible enough to handle her own finances?

The whole mess is irrational, of course. Irrational and distracting and exactly what she doesn’t need when she’s dealing with schoolwork and the sudden uptick in villain activity and the ever-present, ever-looming, and now ever-growing threat of death at their hands, coming swiftly in the night or brightly by day, by accident or malice or a little of both—oh, and her stupid fucking period on top of all of that, because this is exactly the right time to be a crampy hormonal mess. It is therefore something that she is going to push to the back of the mind until she has the time and attention to spare to it. Which is probably going to be a while, given things.

It had been cruel of her though.

The thought sneaks in unbidden as she stares at the mess with overwhelmed tears blurring her vision. Others follow.

He had just been trying to help, after all. And she knows Deku like she knows her own Quirk, and he isn’t the type to just burst into someone’s room and wreck all their things on impulse or for some stupid joke or out of malice. Which means that this is an accident.

And isn’t it reasonable to expect him to make amends if he’d broken something on accident? So it’s reasonable for her to accept his offer of repayment. So it’s not pity, and it isn’t as though her bank account actually has enough padding at the moment to replace her TV. And if she doesn’t let Deku help, the guilt is going to eat at him for weeks, because he’s just the right combination of kind and generous and stupidly self-sacrificing for that to be the case.

And of course that thought makes her chest feel tight and her breath stick in her throat and her head feel fuzzy because fuck love.

A stray thought flickers through her awareness involving Izuku and that particular verb, and she nearly combusts on the spot.

Uraraka shakes her head a few times to clear it and hears a knocking at her door. She wipes at her eyes and straightens her clothing before she gets up, navigates around the patches of shattered glass on her floor, and opens it.

“Hey, Ura,” Ashido Mina says as she pokes her violently pink and enormously fluffy head in through the doorway. “I just saw Midoriya leaving, what happened?”

Her gaze takes in the trashed room and the breeze blowing in through the smashed window, pushing gently at the curtains, half-torn from their hangings. Her lips purse thoughtfully.

“Oh, wow,” she drawls as she steps into the room. “You and—wow. Using his Quirk too from the look of it, that’s kinky—“

“If you’re not going to help, Ashido, then fuck off,” Ochako snaps. She bites down on her tongue a second too late. Her hands ball into fists at her side as she forces a flat neutrality back onto her face.

Ashido’s lips purse further as she regards her trembling friend. She nods once, slowly. “Okay,” she says, holding her hands up as Midoriya had. She nods again before lowering them.

“How about I help you clean up and you tell me what happened, then?” she says.

Uraraka swallows and bows her head.

She and Mina set about cleaning up the glass, picking up the bigger pieces with their hands, sweeping up the smaller pieces with a brush and dustpan.

“Okay,” Mina says after they’ve swept the floor clean a final time and picked a few glittering fragments out of the gathered mess of lint and hair and dust. “So what happened? I mean, don’t need to say it twice, but this place is a wreck.”

Uraraka puffs out a breath and tucks a few stray bangs back behind her ear as she plops into her chair; Mina takes a seat on the bed.

“I was working on that essay on the development of the modern heroing system we have due Friday,” she says, her voice now steady, if somewhat hoarse. “I heard the boys shouting outside and I went to go close the window. Second later I’m ducking because Deku is flying right towards me, and then he goes through my window and trashes my room.”

Uraraka thinks she sees Mina’s expression flicker into an alien look of hard-edged fury, the edge of her lip twisting away to expose a gleaming incisor.

The moment passes. Her friend again has only the same blank look of open and neutral sympathy that she’d adopted at the start of their talk.

“And anyways,” Uraraka says after a pause, “that was basically it. He offered to help clean up, I told him to leave.”

Mina blinks at her. “Why?” she says.

Uraraka feels her lips twitch upwards into something resembling a smile in an instinctive and defensive reaction. For a second she considers trying to fight it down. Mina is a friend, after all, and you’re supposed to be able to talk to your friends about stuff like—like—not relationship issues, because she doesn’t have those, and not boy problems because she doesn’t have those.

She changes the subject.

“That reminds me,” she lies. She looks away from Mina and towards the shattered hole where her window had once been. “Who do you think we should contact to get that fixed?”

Mina looks at her askance but lets the subject drop. “I don’t know,” she says. “Probably one of the teachers knows. Let’s go ask Momo to make us some tarp or something we can use to cover it up first and then we’ll see.”

Later that night, the boys are thoroughly surprised when Mina barges into their common area and smacks Bakugou over the head.

“The fuck was that,” the boy snarls, turning to face her, but she’s already moving on. She hits Kirishima over the head to much the same reaction, then moves on to every other boy in turn, pausing only over Midoriya and Iida. The latter she eyes for a minute before giving him a light tap on the head; the former she pokes sharply in the head before pointing to the nearest door with the same finger.

“Out,” Mina orders.

Midoriya looks at her, then at everyone else, then back up at her, blinking bemusedly. “Um,” he says. “What’s going—“

“Out!”

He scurries out.

Mina watches him leave, then turns back to the group, who are by now either glaring at her or wearing expressions of bemusement.

“What the hell were you idiots thinking?” she hisses. “And don’t try to deny it. I know we have money riding on this bet but that was just going too damn far. For crying out loud, property damage? That’s Uraraka’s own stuff she’ll need to replace now thanks to you dumbasses.”

“What happened?” Iida asks, his usual demeanor subdued.

“Well, let’s see,” Mina says, her tone acidly sweet. “There’s a giant-ass hole in the wall where her window used to be, her TV is smashed, and her coffee table and her fan, and she was this close to breaking down and crying over all of it thanks to you morons, and I am this close to—to—“ she pauses, trying to think of an appropriately terrible revenge “—melting all of your shit and seeing how you like it!”

After a beat Kaminari points out, somewhat hesitantly, “Your fingers are touching, Ashido.”

“I know!”

Iida is on his feet and before her in a flash, bowing so deeply he looks like a sideways L. “My deepest apologies!” he belts out, forcing Mina to cover her ears to prevent an attack of deafness. “I was remiss in my duties as class president this afternoon and failed to rein in our classmates’ enthusiasm for ensuring that our friends find happiness in each other!”

“In each other,” Kaminari snickers. Mina glares at him, and his quiet sounds of amusement die away. He coughs and looks away from her.

“So here’s what you chuckleheads are going to do,” Mina says. “You’re going to buy a new TV for her. You’re going to buy a new fan for her. You’re going to buy a new coffee table for her, and—“ a vicious little smirk peels the corners of her lips up “—because it’d make someone suspicious if all of you showed up for no reason at all, you’ll send Midoriya and only Midoriya to deliver them to her.”

A chorus of grumbling comes up from the boys, but it dies away after a minute without much fuss.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Mina says, folding her arms across her chest, her ire somewhat fading now that petty vengeance had been dealt out. “I mean, the scheme to fake his heart attack and to get Uraraka to do rescue breathing on him was stupid enough, and the Twister game was—actually pretty good come to think of it. All right, throwing the two of them into a janitorial closet and locking the door was stupider. The heck was the idea here?”

Bakugou grunts and folds his arms across his chest, marinating in his own sullen wroth. Iida looks embarrassed and clams up, seating himself back on the couch with a thoroughly preoccupied air; Kaminari tries not to catch her eye. Everyone else in the room takes a sudden and intense interest in either the floor or the ceiling.

In the end, it’s Kirishima who ends up trying to explain.

“Right, so, uh,” he stammers out, looking around him for support and finding none. “Right, so we noticed that Midoriya was always really nervous around Uraraka, every time we got them close together, so we figured that, uh, maybe they just needed a bit of a push, to you know, get comfortable with each other—“ he pauses a moment, trying not to wilt under the force of Mina’s glare.

“—so we invited him out to the lawn for a quick free-for-all spar and then Katsuki blew him through Uraraka’s window,” he finishes in a rush. He drops back down onto his seat and fiddles nervously with his fingers.

“Do you guys ever think things through beyond step two?” Mina says into the awkward silence. “Or step one for that matter? Good grief, what did you think was going to happen, he falls into her lap and instantly seduces her and they’re making out in public by the end of the week?”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Look, whatever. Can we just agree not to do it again? No property damage, no psychological scarring, nothing like that. We just want them to get together, all right, we’re agreed on that?”

A silent chorus of nods passes around the room.

“All right,” Mina says. “End of the week for Uraraka’s replacement stuff, all right?”

She leaves.

“Fucking damnit,” Bakugou says after the door closes behind her. “All right, how much does a fucking TV cost.”

By the close of their first year, it was completely obvious to everyone in Class 1-A that of the potential romances in their social circle, the one growing between Midoriya Izuku and Uraraka Ochako was the most promising. Okay, sure, there was some mileage to be had in shipping Todoroki and Momo; there was always fun to be had when mentioning Momo to Jirou, of course. There was even something to be had between Bakugou and Kaminari, although given Bakugou’s propensity to try and murder you in as messily a manner as possible at the slightest provocation it was advised to poke that particular wolverine with a very long stick indeed.

So of course, it had taken all of two minutes for a betting pool to spring up.

The first two weeks were chaotic, as people tried to negotiate rates and odds and tried to negotiate exchange rates for favors, with at least one fistfight breaking out over an unfavorable bet—Bakugou, as it turned out, getting pissed that no one would accept his low, low offer of eternal servitude should “Chubby Cheeks” and “That Asshole” get together within the next year.

Iida and Momo made sure to take over after that, and quickly instituted a cash-only rule.

Things somehow managed to consolidate themselves after that, the various bets and bargains merging and growing until two distinct blocs had formed, with the boys opposite the girls.

And then, of course, the competition had started.

It had begun innocently enough, with Bakugou’s brag that he could easily arrange matters so that “those two fuckers” would be “eating each others’ dumb faces” by the end of the month. Iida had protested that it’d be unfair to the spirit in which the betting had begun—only with about two or three times as many words—Bakugou had flipped him off, and then while Momo and Todoroki were trying to keep that fight from breaking out, Ashido had countered that while he didn’t have a chance in hell, she was perfectly capable of pulling something like that off. Matters deteriorated from there.

They managed to quell the argument only when Jirou suggested that they turn the entire thing from a horse race into a competition.

Three months later it was debatable as to whether making everyone even more hyperfocused on trying to get their friends together, now that prestige and money were both on the line, had caused or solved more issues between them.

What wasn’t as debatable was that Midoriya and Uraraka were both stiff-necked idiots who couldn’t recognize their affections for one another if you got the both of them shitfaced drunk and shoved them in a closet together.

The time had therefore passed with little to no progress, and with increasing amounts of desperation from all participants. It was now less a matter of money and prestige, but a matter of honor and duty, at least for anyone who wasn’t Bakugou—or Mineta, but they’d banned him from participating at all after he’d half-buried Midoriya’s bed in condoms.

The situation was becoming dire. No one was willing to go so far as to outright tell either Midoriya or Ochako about the others’ affections—that would be rude, and besides, Iida had made it very clear that anyone even considering doing so would be given a lecture. But it was getting close to the point where they were willing to risk having the brains drilled out of their skulls by such punishment, if only to get those idiots together.

Still, there were options still available to them that didn’t involve a horrible, slow death at the hands of Iida; they would exercise them.

“Thanks for helping me set up everything, Deku,” Uraraka says.

“No, it was really no problem,” Midoriya says as he scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s the least I could do after wrecking your stuff.”

“About that,” she says. She coughs and kicks at the floorboards with the toes of one of her socked feet. “I heard the whole story from Mina, and I think that I owe you an apology for how I treated you the other day.”

“Oh, no—“

“No,” Uraraka says, cutting him off. “It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t fair of me to treat you like everything was your fault, and I really do need to apologize. So, um, yeah. I’m sorry.”

They stand there at the threshold to Uraraka’s room for a little while, until Midoriya swallows down the lump in his throat and says, with entirely too much brightness, “Well, if there’s nothing else that you need me for, I’ll be off then. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” Uraraka says. “Uh, at class later, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “at class.”

Mina pops up about half a second after Midoriya rounds the corner.

“See,” she says reassuringly. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes he does,” Uraraka moans, trudging back into her dorm. She doesn’t bother shutting the door behind her, and Mina takes it as the invitation it was intended to be and follows her in, throwing herself spread-eagled across the bed. “Did you see him? He couldn’t have gotten out of here faster if Iida had been dragging him by the legs.”

“I did watch him leave,” Mina says. “Although I must admit that I was focused more on his very nice butt than I was on whether he was trying to get out of here especially quickly.”

She grins toothily as she watches her friend’s face go completely blank.

“Relax, I’m not intending to steal him from you,” Mina says. “He’s really not my type.”

Uraraka’s face remains blankly neutral even as her cheeks color slightly.

“Although honestly,” Mina muses innocently, rolling herself upright and tapping her heels together, “he is really sweet and nice and thoughtful and everything. Kinda generically so, but there’s a lot of people out there who’d be fine with something like that.”

“Not me, certainly,” Uraraka says, a little too quickly. “Anyways, did you do the extra credit on the essay?”

“Nah,” Mina says with a dismissive flick of her hair. “The essay itself was enough of a chore, so I didn’t bother. I guess you did, what topic did you choose?”

“I had to choose a major case and explain how it helped to shape the legal powers given to us as heroes,” Uraraka says. “There was an argument that I was a little worried was too weak, do you mind if I run it by you and see what you think of it?”

Mina tries her best to follow her friend’s argument but finds her eyes glazing over as the stream of wherebys and therefores flow past her with only the minimum amount of comprehension.

“Ura,” Mina says after five minutes of this. “Ura!”

Uraraka stops. “It was weak, wasn’t it,” she says. “Ugh, I knew—“

“Ura, you’re one of the smartest and hardest-working people in our class,” Mina says. “I’m sure your argument’s fine, I just can’t make sense of it.”

Uraraka blinks at her. “So you do think it’s weak?”

“I’m saying that if you want some actual good feedback I’m probably not the best person to ask about this,” Mina says. “You should really be going to Iida or Todoroki or—“

A thought traces its way across the forefront of her thoughts like silent lightning, and she has to fight down the giant, shit-eating grin that threatens to bisect her face.

“—Midoriya,” Mina says. “Yeah, Midoriya is probably your best option, he’s smart and overachieving like you and he’s probably done with his essay so he’s got lots of free time, you should drop by and see if he’ll help, plus he’s probably still feeling really guilty over wrecking your room so you can totally guilt-trip him into helping even if he doesn’t have free time. And I mean you’re friendly with him and all, he’d totally help you.”

“I’m not going to bother him about this,” Ochako says, her expression set, her lips pressed together. “And Momo finished hers two days ago, I’ll run my argument by her.”

“Yeah but you know that she’ll just nitpick your argument to death,” Mina says quickly. “And I mean, neither of us want that, do we?”

“Uh,” Uraraka says as she closes her laptop and tucks it under an arm. “I mean, yes. It’ll make my essay stronger in the end if it can stand up even to Momo’s analysis. Look, thanks for your help, Mina, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Mina sits primly on the bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap, and does not dive desperately for her phone the instant the door closes.

“Don’t help her,” she hisses into her phone the moment that Momo picks up. “Do not! Help! Her!”

“What?” Momo says after a blank moment.

“Do not help Uraraka just trust me on this,” Mina says, and hangs up.

Momo calls back thirty seconds later. “Okay, so I told her that I was busy,” Momo says. “What is this all about?”

“We need her to go to Midoriya for help,” Mina says.

“Ah. I see.”

“Look, she might be going to Iida or Todoroki next,” Mina says.

“I’ll head off Todoroki,” Momo says.

“I’ll handle Iida,” Mina says. “Should we get the girls to run interference on anyone else?”

“Bakugou is the only other one I can think of, but he and Kaminari are over at the gym right now,” Momo says. “I can get Tsuyu to run surveillance on them in case they’re just finishing up, but we should be safe.”

“Cool,” Mina says. “If the situation with Ura changes I’ll update you.”

“Okay,” Uraraka says to herself. “I can do this, it’s just sitting in a room and going over some homework, and it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

Of course, the other times they’d had other people around. And back then she’d at least been able to function halfway normally for three minutes together when in close proximity to Deku.

Fuck crushes. Fuck them sideways.

Still, everyone else was busy and she needs to get this stupid essay done, so she needs to get over herself right now.

She knocks on Deku’s door with a quick tap-tap-tap and steps back. After a second the door opens.

“Oh,” Midoriya says. He stares at her.

“Uh,” Uraraka says, waving her hand in front of his face. “Hey, Deku, are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh yes,” Midoriya says. “Oh, uh, sorry. Did you need something?”

She needs him to stop making her heart do backflips when he has that adorable look on his adorable face.

“Do you have a couple minutes?” she says. “I was having a little bit of trouble with the extra credit essay and I just needed to run through the argument with someone and try to work out the kinks in it, and everyone else seems to be busy with something else and I was hoping that you wouldn’t be.”

“I was, uh, actually planning on starting that myself,” Midoriya says. “Come in—oh, sorry, do you want to work in the common area?”

“No,” Uraraka says, trying to keep the word from coming out as a squeak. “There’s nothing wrong with—your room is fine.”

“So do you want anything to drink or anything?” Midoriya asks Uraraka as he ushers her in. “My mom brought some barley tea last weekend, do you want the chair?”

“I’ll take the bed,” Uraraka says, and perches herself on the very edge. “And thank you, I’ll take some tea.”

“Uh, okay,” Midoriya says. He kneels and pries open his minifridge and pulls out a glass bottle filled with an amber liquid. His other hand searches atop his desk and comes down with a relatively clean mug as he pops the bottle open with his thumb. He pours the mug half-full and hands it to Uraraka as he places the bottle back in the fridge.

“Right,” he says. “So, uh, what did you need to go over?”

“My extra credit essay,” Uraraka repeats after a moment and an askance look. “On the Tanaka v. Japan case, the one we skimmed over in class?” After another second without any response she adds “You know, the one that—“

“That eventually led to the establishment of the professional heroing system in Japan, yes,” Midoriya mutters to himself, his brows knitting together. “I did that too, what are you having trouble with?”

Uraraka sighs. “Not so much trouble, as—well, I’m just not sure that my argument makes any sense.”

He nods. “All right, walk me through it then.”

“Right, so background, this was when the use of Quirks was still banned nationwide, Tanaka was smuggling drugs into the country and was caught by a police officer with a mild telepathy Quirk. He appealed his case after his conviction, arguing that because there was no evidence of drugs or drug paraphernalia in the car the officer could only have had probable cause to search his car if he’d used his Quirk illegally to find out that he was smuggling, and when his appeal was denied he eventually managed to bring his case to the Supreme Court, arguing that the search was a violation of Article 34—”

“The ‘nor shall he be detained without adequate cause’ clause,” he says, nodding. “Right, right. Adequate cause was obtained but only through illegal means, so it was invalid.”

“—right, and that the use of the officer’s Quirk in general was a violation of Article 35, arguing that his private thoughts were covered under ‘effects’ in that article, and obviously since it was initially just a stop on the freeway there was never any warrant. Supreme Court eventually decided in favor of Tanaka.”

“Okay, so what argument are you making about the case?” he says.

“I’m arguing that the narrowly-worded decision that was eventually handed down by the court is what drove the development of heroes as privately-funded rather than government-funded organizations,” she says.

“What bit?” he says. He turns to his laptop and after a few seconds of searching brings up a copy of the decision. He hands the laptop to Uraraka, who sets her own computer to the side.

“Uh, this one here,” she says after a moment, highlighting the passage and passing the computer back to Midoriya.

He scans the screen, murmuring under his breath. “—whereby we recognize that the arresting officer’s actions were, given the legal standard previously set, et cetera et cetera—“

This goes on for about a minute or so. Uraraka amuses herself in the meantime by trying to count the freckles on Midoriya’s cheeks.

“Stop jostling,” Kaminari hisses as he, Bakugou, and Iida fight to get an ear to the door leading into Midoriya’s dorm room. “Stop it, they’ll hear.”

“Why don’t you fucking back off then,” Bakugou snaps. “I have better hearing than you do anyways.”

He elbows Kaminari out of the way with many a quiet protest and presses his ear against the door.

“What,” Jirou says, “are you idiots doing?”

The three of them turn to face her with expressions between surprise and irritation; she quirks an eyebrow at them in return, but otherwise remains expressionless.

“Round-cheeks went in a few minutes ago, we’re trying to see if she and Worthless are doing the nasty yet,” Bakugou answers. Behind him, Kaminari makes a number of quiet, frantic gestures which more or less translate to “no we are not”.

“We are trying to hear what our friends are conversing about,” Iida says, glancing towards Bakugou, “and yes, seeing if what they are conversing about concerns their relationship. I assume that Uraraka being here is part of your plans?”

“Not mine,” Jirou says with a shrug. “Momo or Mina’s probably, I’ll ask.”

“While you are here,” Iida says. “Do you mind if you assist us?” He gestures towards the door.

“Sure,” Jirou says. One of her earphones spools out and punches delicately through the drywall beside the door as the other raises itself and points towards the boys.

“—so the issue I have here is,” Midoriya says, his voice somewhat muffled but still understandable, “that it seems to me that your entire argument hinges on literally one word and some vague wording in the prior Yamamoto decision.”

“Right,” Uraraka shoots back, “but it’s an important one word, because by mentioning specifically public enforcers of the law in the Tanaka decision and with the whole “urgent need” clause they mention in Yamamoto it basically meant that privately-owned and –operated security companies could deliberately throw people into situations where they would be in mortal danger, have them use their Quirks, and then claim self-defense as their urgent need if they got slapped with any lawsuits.”

“Yeah, but they closed that loophole within a month of the first big companies starting to advertise their services,” Midoriya counters. “And besides—just playing devil’s advocate—that doesn’t explain why the police couldn’t do the same thing, since the Tanaka decision was interpreted as forbidding only the use of Quirks that could go against Articles 35 or 38, and being able to punch someone really hard or blow them up doesn’t really translate to unlawful search and seizure or compelling someone to confess.”

“Oh my god,” Bakugou gripes. “This is fucking useless.”

“No, no,” Iida says, nodding thoughtfully, “she makes a good point with the—“

“Oh fuck off,” Bakugou says. He gets up from his half-crouched position in front of the door and shambles away, his hands in his pockets.

“Well, those two are dense as hell,” Jirou says as she retracts both of her earphones. “Or maybe they’re just such enormous nerds that that’s their version of foreplay or something.”

“Or perhaps they really do merely want to focus on their academics,” Iida says.

“Eh?” Kaminari says.

“I am saying that perhaps the reason that our efforts have been fruitless up until now is because our friends are not interested in romance,” Iida explains. “And if that is the case then perhaps we—“

“Five words or less, Iida,” Jirou says. “We don’t have all day.”

He blinks at her, but takes a second and chooses his words carefully.

“They care about finishing school,” he says. “I accept that it doesn’t necessarily preclude the formation of a romance while we are here, but that is their focus, and they are driven and highly motivated, and given our current lack of success I find it difficult to imagine that they will shift that focus anytime soon.”

“Okay,” Kaminari says, clapping Iida on the back, “I think that was way more than five words, buddy, but yeah, sure, that sounds right.”

Jirou’s eyes go wide. “You idiot,” she hisses, “they heard that!”

“Scatter,” Iida orders. The three of them dive for cover.

A few seconds later Midoriya opens the door and glances from side to side, frowning slightly.

“Sorry, I must’ve imagined it,” he says as he turns and lets the door swing shut behind him. “Where were we?”

Iida, Kaminari, and Jirou peek out from around the corner they’d bolted around.

“How about we just leave them to it,” Kaminari suggests. “That was way too close.”

“For once I agree with you,” Jirou says. “Come on, let’s go see if anyone knows what’s actually going on.”

“Look, we’ve been arguing over details for the past three hours,” Midoriya says. “I think that your core argument is fine, and if you do lose any points it’ll be over little nitpicky things that even actual lawyers don’t really agree on.”

Uraraka’s mouth flattens into a line, almost a pout. “You’re sure about that?” she says.

“Positive,” he replies. “We’ve been over every word in this eight times and all we’ve changed is maybe a couple of sentences. It’s a good essay, it’s well-argued, you build it up logically, you cite appropriate precedents, it’s a really good essay, Uraraka. You can worry over it until next week but it’ll still be a good essay.”

He sighs as he sees her expression. “Look, if you insist, we’ll go over it one more time, okay?” he says. “Let’s just take a break, get something to eat or something, come back at this when we’re refreshed. There’s a new ramen bar that’s opened up not too far from here and Iida says that their prices aren’t bad—”

Midoriya’s teeth clack together as his exhausted brain catches up with his tongue and a blush works its way onto his cheeks. “—I mean,” he adds a little hastily, “if you want, or we can just go and grab something from the convenience store and come back.”

Uraraka’s brain takes a minute to break from its loop of “essay essay essay freckles essay essay legal jargon freckles”, but when it does she flushes riot red.

“Uh,” she says. “Um, sure. Ramen sounds good.” She closes her laptop with some care and stands up with it clutched before her like a talisman. “Let me just go grab my coat and my wallet.”

She scurries out.

“So I’ll see you in a few minutes?” Midoriya calls after her. He looks around his little room and runs a hand distractedly through his hair. Right, a comb maybe, and a clean shirt. Jeans, probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go out in sweatpants. Should he brush his teeth, no that would be dumb.

Mina brightens as Uraraka scurries into the common room.

“Hey, Ura, what’s the rush?” Mina asks as the girl hurries past, her laptop clutched to her chest.

She blinks and turns her head to follow Uraraka as she fails to slow or to even acknowledge the friendly greeting, but instead disappears down the hall leading into the girl’s dormitories.

“Uh,” she says. She turns to Momo, seated off to the side at one of the tables scattered around the room. “The heck was that all about?”

Momo doesn’t look up from where she’s typing away on her laptop. “Was what all about?”

“Ura just went through here like a shot.”

“Oh.”

Momo looks up as quick footsteps patter back across the carpet—Uraraka, now with one arm in a big, puffy coat, the other hanging onto a small clasp purse.

“Oh,” Momo repeats as Uraraka hurries past them with a kilometer stare. “A date.”

“Eh?”

“Coat and wallet, so she’s going out and she’s expecting to have to buy something, she’s gone completely stone-faced so something’s happened to make her emotionally overwrought, and really the only thing we might reasonably assume would do that these days is Midoriya.”

“Ah.”

“Also she’s headed straight for the boy’s dorms with her coat and wallet while being emotionally overwrought, and what does that all indicate for you?”

“Okay,” Mina says, nodding. “That makes sense.”

They fall silent again as Uraraka, now accompanied by a quietly red-faced Midoriya, pass them by and exit the building.

“Someone’s smug,” Momo notes as she turns back to Mina. “Well, it’ll hopefully be well-deserved.”

“I haven’t heard of them pulling anything,” Mina says, “that’ll be a yes.”

“You said that about your last three plans.”

“My last three plans weren’t sure-fire.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Uraraka tries to keep herself from losing it as she walks next to Midoriya, the chill in the air turning their breath into a fine mist that hangs in the air before them for a moment before floating away.

It isn’t a date that they’re on, it’s just a quick meal and then they’re heading back and finishing up their essays and there are zero romantic implications to this whatsoever.

Midoriya’s hand brushes hers and she nearly jumps off of the sidewalk and right into the path of a passing car. He jerks away so viciously that he nearly trips into the little concrete drainage trench bordering the road.

“So, uh,” he says a minute later. “I know it’s a bit early for that but are you looking at any agencies that you want to join up with?”

“Yes, actually,” Uraraka says, relieved at having something so utterly normal to talk about. “I spoke with No. 13 and he helped me get in touch with a few companies that do rapid response for disasters, rescue work mostly since that’s what my powers would probably be best for, lifting rubble off of people and everything—“

Okay, Ochako, get ahold of yourself, you’re starting to babble.

“—but I’m looking into groups that do more direct crime prevention and crime response too ever since I got some training from Gunhead,” she says. She mimes a couple of quick jabs and a rising uppercut and immediately feels foolish for it. “Some of them do community service and outreach, some work with the police and respond directly to urgent scenes, you know, the usual.”

She pauses to take a breath and asks brightly, “What about you?”

“I—well, I don’t know, actually,” Midoriya says. He looks down at the sidewalk and massages the back of his neck with a hand. “I haven’t really thought about it, ever since, uh. Ever since—we rescued Eri.”

He doesn’t need to tell her his real thoughts.

“But I was thinking that I’d find someone to take me on as a sidekick,” he says. “Get some street experience first, get my name out there before trying to sign on with an agency as a full hero.”

Uraraka can’t help herself—she chortles, sticking one of her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the noise as Midoriya turns a bemused expression towards her.

“Um,” he says. “Sorry, did I say something?”

“No, no,” Uraraka says through a burst of giggling, “no. It’s just that you realize that you could walk up to any group and ask to be signed up as a hero and they’d write you a check on the spot, right?”

His expression becomes more bewildered, like that of a puppy confronted with an unfamiliar squeaky toy. Uraraka can’t help herself—again she bursts out giggling.

“You’ve been involved in three or four major fights at this point,” she explains. “Big-league guys too, and that’s making people sit up and take notice. I mean, every time I mentioned our class, the first thing that everyone said was ‘Oh, with that Deku boy?’”

She pauses, then adds “except that one guy who said ‘Oh, you’re in the same class as that insane kid?’ Look, my point is that people know you, and—okay, well most of them—think well of you. You could go up to any of them and ask and they’d give you a job just like that. You’re the guy who does the impossible, wins the unwinnable, uh, punches the unpunchable, I guess. You set your sights on a goal and you let literally nothing stop you from achieving it, and people admire that.”

Midoriya scoffs. “I think you’re overestimating me, Uraraka.”

Uraraka’s smile thins out to a line. “I think you’re underestimating yourself,” she says in soft rejoinder.

“Well, what about you, then?” Midoriya counters. “You helped take down Chisaki, and you’ve been doing as well or me or better academically. Your performance during the Sports Festival was a lot more impressive, too, since you actually used your head instead of just running straight in and breaking your arms and most of your fingers.”

“I lost that fight,” Uraraka says.

“There’s always going to be a fight that you can’t win,” Midoriya says. “And I lost to Todoroki, too.”

“Yeah, but you’ve also done a lot more winning than I have,” Uraraka says. “And let’s face it, you’re a lot more inspiring than I am.”

“Oh come on—“

“I mean it,” Uraraka says, continuing doggedly. “You inspire people to do things that they know they’re going to get in trouble for, you inspire them to keep fighting even when they would be perfectly justified in just lying down and letting someone else handle it, you inspire them to—to try to be better than they are.”

She flushes as she realizes that Midoriya is staring at her, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open very slightly.

“What?” she says. “I mean, it’s all true.”

“I didn’t know,” he says, looking down at his feet.

Silence descends again between them before Midoriya breaches it. “Um,” he says. “Do you feel like that?”

Before she can answer a man steps out in front of them from a darkened alley with something shiny and pointy in one clenched hand—a knife, more a machete, roughly the length of her forearm with a simple curving drop-point tip.

Uraraka feels something click into place in her head. She shifts her feet slightly apart and rises onto the balls of her feet, letting her purse drop away as her hands come up to the level of her waist.

“Wallets and purse,” the man says, the tip wavering between her and Midoriya. He licks his lips. “Now!”

Okay, so they just need to keep calm and not make any sudden moves and oh dear Midoriya is stepping in front of her and now he has a knife buried up to the hilt in his stomach.

Okay, so it is important to not freak out and now the mugger is pulling the knife out—

She darts forwards and kicks him in the knee; something makes an awful and satisfying crunch, and the mugger screams and drops the knife. He takes a roundhouse swing at her, which is ridiculous he’s well out of range and fuck her he’s got her with his nails or claws or something and now she’s got two or three hot streaks of pain across one cheek, but now she’s got a hold of his arm by his wrist and upper arm and twist—

The man feels his shoulder joint twist painfully before he hits the concrete face-first, hard enough that something crunches in his face. He screams in agony—at least until Uraraka kicks him sharply in the jaw, knocking him out cold.

Okay, primary threat has been neutralized. Now she can freak out.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Uraraka babbles. She drops to her knees beside Midoriya as he curls up around the spreading red stain in his gut.

Oh god, what does she do? Pressure on the wound, right? Apply pressure with something, stop the bleeding—oh god, there’s so much blood—make sure he doesn’t pass out on her. She needs something to staunch the bleeding—not her down-stuffed coat, needs to be something with a dense weave, something that’ll help stop the bleeding

“Uraraka,” Midoriya hisses between gritted teeth.

She stares at him, wide-eyed.

“Recovery Girl,” he manages.

Fuck her, right. An ambulance wouldn’t take long to get here but the wound was deep and he was losing a lot of blood very quickly, and it was no guarantee that they’d be able to stitch him back up in time even if they got him to a trauma suite in the next five or ten minutes. His best chance of not bleeding to death here on the concrete was to get him to Recovery Girl—the teachers lived on campus now, after all. There was always the risk that she’d be off at the hospital of course, and wouldn’t that be deeply ironic if they fucked up and brought him back to campus only to find no Recovery Girl, only to have him bleed out there—fuck her if she’s going to spiral again.

She fumbles out her phone and dials Iida. It rings twice.

“Hello?” Iida answers.

It takes her a precious few seconds to explain, and another thirty seconds to get Iida to stop freaking out. Uraraka fights down the urge to scream.

“Just get here as soon as you fu—as you can,” she snaps. She tears Midoriya’s shirt off as gently as she can, but the movement still elicits a pained scream from him. “Sorry, Deku,” she says. “Stay with me, all right?”

Such a stupid thing to say, she thinks, as Iida hangs up. “Stay with me”, as if that would actually do anything to stop the fucking bleeding.

She folds the blood-stained shirt into a rough compress, trying to keep as much dirt off of it as possible.

“You are going to hate me in a moment,” she informs him. His eyes flicker down to the shirt in her hands.

Then she presses it hard against the wound.

He screams, his hands tightening into fists. She hears his knuckles pop.

Iida arrives at speed a couple minutes later with a rolled-up canvas stretcher tucked under an arm and a roll of duct tape around his wrist like a bracelet. He screeches to a halt and together they slide Midoriya onto the stretcher, secure the impromptu compress with several layers of tape, then secure Midoriya to the stretcher with the liberal application of more duct tape around his legs and shoulders.

“I sent Todoroki to inform Recovery Girl, she should be ready and waiting by the time we get back,” Iida says brusquely as Uraraka slaps her hand down onto the stretcher, then onto Midoriya. “I have also informed Momo, who is calling the police and directing them to the location of this criminal.”

“I’m coming with you,” Uraraka says. She slaps a hand onto her own shoulder and grabs the other end of the stretcher as she feels the familiar sense of queasiness come over her. She swallows hard.

“Of course,” Iida says, tucking the stretcher, Midoriya and all, under one arm. “Hold on tight.”

The three of them probably break a couple speed limits on the way back to campus, but Uraraka doesn’t care. They get back before Midoriya loses too much blood, and that’s what matters.

“He’ll be fine,” Recovery Girl tells them a few tense hours later, with the addition of a very worried and extremely teary Mrs. Midoriya. “My powers don’t do anything for blood loss, so I’m putting a few units of blood into him right now. My powers also don’t do much for infections, so in case that knife wound punctured anything I’m going to be putting him on intravenous antibiotics.”

“But he’ll be fine?” Iida asks.

“Yes,” Recovery Girl says. “Shouldn’t take more than a week before he’s out of here.”

She directs a little nod towards Uraraka. “You’ll also be pleased to know that the police picked up the man who tried to mug you. There will be some legal trouble undoubtedly, you did break his nose and his jaw, but I wouldn’t worry about that. We have an excellent legal team, and it was self-defense.”

“Is he awake?” Mrs. Midoriya asks.

“No,” Recovery Girl says. “But you’re welcome to stay with him until he wakes up. I’ll be in and out periodically to check on him, but feel free to call for me at any time.”

The three of them say their “thank yous” and “goodbyes”, and the diminutive little doctor nods at them and leaves for her office.

“Thank you so much,” Mrs. Midoriya says, bowing deeply and rapidly to Iida and Uraraka both. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—“

“No, no,” Uraraka says. “That’s not necessary.”

“He’s our friend,” Iida says.

“He would’ve done the same for us,” Uraraka says.

“Has done the same for us,” Iida says.

It takes them a few minutes of this before they convince Mrs. Midoriya that, no, there is nothing owed between them, no, no, really, it’s fine, there’s really nothing to, no, please stop prostrating yourself, please. Please.

“I’m going to go in and see him, then,” she says, sniffling a little. She dabs at her eyes with a soaked-through handkerchief and scurries in.

“You’re not coming?” Iida says as he turns to follow Mrs. Midoriya in and sees Uraraka turn to walk the other direction.

“No,” she says. “It’d be too crowded in there, you know how tiny those rooms are.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, no,” Uraraka says. “I wasn’t hurt, it was just Deku. I just need to think about some things.”

“If you’re sure,” Iida says. “I’ll text if he wakes up.”

“Thank you,” Uraraka says, and hurries out.

It’s only when she’s safely within the privacy of her own room that she lets herself break down and cry.

They’d been that close to just dying. Not in some big and meaningful fight, just a mugging gone bad, and it’d been that close. If she’d just been a second slower, had let the shock from Deku’s stabbing set in just that little fraction, then they both would’ve been goners. It had been that close, and then she would’ve died with so many things unsaid.

After a while, the tears slow, then stop. Uraraka curls up into a little ball and stares at the wall until sleep claims her.

The knock comes at Izuku’s window, in the dead of night.

He looks up, frowning, from his notes, and stares at his closed curtains.

A second later, the knock comes again, a frantic little rapping lasting maybe a second.

He waits and considers his options.

Well, the security around the school was good enough now that it probably wasn’t a villain trying to murder him. It was a possibility, sure, but not overly possible. And there’d probably be more screaming and explosions by now if it was.

“Deku, can you please open your window?”

Okay, so unless there’s a villain capable of perfectly mimicking or imitating Ochako’s voice—wait, wasn’t there that girl with the shapeshifting Quirk, Toga something or other?

Izuku shakes his head and stands, walking towards the window. Well, he could sit here and indulge his paranoia, or he could go and see what Ochako wanted at this time of night and why she was calling on him from outside instead of coming to his door.

Which, on second thought, doesn’t exactly do much for his paranoia.

He twitches aside the curtains and comes face-to-face with Ochako.

He blushes despite himself—she is really close, even if they’re separated by a window screen and a couple panes of insulated glass, and the sight of her expression, so focused and determined, sets his heart to skipping, and—oh for crying out loud, he shouldn’t be creeping on his friend like this. She wouldn’t want him to.

“We need to talk,” Ochako says. “Meet me on the training field in ten minutes?”

Izuku opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it and shuts it. He nods.

Ochako takes a deep breath and returns his nod. Then, she loosens her grip on the windowsill and drops gently away into the twilight.

Izuku quickly tugs on a sweatshirt and his shoes and slips out of his dorm. He closes the door carefully behind him so that the click of the lock doesn’t betray his exit, then makes his way down the corridors and stairways with his heart pounding in his ears and slips out of the dorms through a side door.

The campus grounds are quiet and cool past curfew, brightly lit by tall gold-shining lamps every few meters along its broad, winding paths. Izuku makes his way to the field by sticking to the edges of buildings and skirting the edges of shadows, alert for patrolling security and for other, more subtle sentries. After all, who knows what the inventors in the Department of Support might’ve dreamt up?

Still, he makes it to the field without incident and without any of the teachers popping up to reprimand him.

Ochako is waiting for him beside one of the long flights of stairs leading down to the field itself, at the edge of one of the pools of light cast by a lamp. Her eyes flicker up to meet his; her hands momentarily twist as they curl into fists around the hem of her shirt.

Izuku swallows, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Um,” he says after a minute or so of silence between them. “So, uh. Hi.”

Ochako meets his eyes again for a second, then looks down and away.

“So what did you want to talk about?” he says.

Silence. Her fists clench tighter.

“Are you okay?” he says.

Ochako finally replies, her voice quiet but firm and steady.

“I’m not,” she says.

Izuku takes a step closer to her, his hands half-raised to clasp her shoulders in a gesture of comfort. “What’s wrong, then?”

More silence. Izuku drops his hands back down to his sides even as Ochako’s loosen from their fists and drop down to hers.

“Uraraka?”

She finally looks up at him with tired but steady eyes, her expression resigned, her jaw set. The tension drops out of her shoulders completely, though she still looks hunched and small.

She just doesn’t look afraid anymore.

“You,” she says. “That’s what’s wrong.”

Izuku blinks.

“Or,” she amends hastily, “I should say that my feelings about you are what’s wrong.”

“Your feelings—“

“I love you,” Ochako says.

Izuku’s heart swells, so much so that he finds it hard to breathe or speak properly for a moment. His vision blurs. Oh, for crying out loud, he is not going to start crying now, he is not.

“I don’t know when I started seeing you as—as more than a friend,” Ochako continues. “All I know is that one day I woke up and—well, things were different.”

Her hands close into fists on the hem of her shirt again; she looks down and with a small effort forces her fingers to uncurl, one by one.

“You were just—“ she looks up at him, then back down to her hands again “—a light in my life, all of a sudden. And I wanted to be close to that light. So close.”

She looks up at him again, and holds his gaze. Izuku thinks his heart might explode from his chest when a smile, small and flickering, finds its way to her face again.

“I thought that would just go away,” she continues, standing a little straighter now. “And I tried to ignore it when it didn’t and I tried to just move on with things like everything was normal.”

She gives a little shrug. “And it didn’t work. Loving you is a hard habit to break.”

“Um, Ochako—“

She holds up a hand and Izuku stops. “Please, let me finish,” she says. “I didn’t want to tell you this because I didn’t want to make things weird between us and I didn’t want to, well, make you feel like you had to respond or anything.”

“So what changed?” Izuku asks.

“I realized that I’d regret it more if, y’know, something bad happened to one of us and I never let you know,” Ochako says. “And a part of it, well, was just me needing to be honest with myself, just me needing to stop denying that I want to be with you. As more than a friend, I mean.”

She inhales deeply and then blows the breath out through her mouth, squaring her shoulders.

“So there,” she says. “I just needed to let you know. I mean, I don’t want to make you feel like you need to return my feelings or anything—”

“I love you too,” Izuku says.

Ochako freezes with her mouth open in a wide O, the words that had been about to escape coming out as a mere squeak instead.

“I didn’t know when I started to see you as more than a friend either,” he continues, as a blush scorches its way across her cheeks and lights the tips of her ears aflame. “I mean, I’ve admired you since the day we first met—your drive and determination, your kindness and selflessness—“

He stops, feeling his own blush creep up over his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he says, dropping his gaze. “I’m probably not saying this very—I’m probably not being very clear. I don’t really have a lot of experience—I’m not really used to this kind of thing.”

“Neither am I,” Ochako says, with a quiet smile that Izuku just sees in his peripheral vision. He blushes harder. “I mean, I’ve had crushes before, but I’ve never really felt anything this strongly before.”

“Honestly,” Izuku says, “I never thought that I’d ever be on the receiving end of something like this.”

They stand there for a minute more in silence, both of them almost glowing brighter than the lamp they’re under.

“So,” Uraraka says. “What do we do now?”

“I, uh,” Izuku says. “I don’t know. I never thought that I’d ever get this far with, uh, anyone.”

“This hasn’t ever been something that I’ve really thought was important,” Uraraka admits. “Until now, I mean.”

“So how do you want to go ahead with this?” Izuku asks.

Uraraka chews at her lower lip, and Izuku finds himself reflecting on just how ridiculously adorable the expression on her face is in an attempt to distract himself from his suddenly racing heart.

“Maybe just,” she says, “take it slow?”

“Take it a day at a time sort of thing?” he says.

“Do what comes natural?” she says.

“But keep it light and casual?” he says.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding perhaps a little too vigorously. “Yeah, that sounds good. I mean, we both still need to concentrate on school and stuff, and uh, stuff. We shouldn’t let, y’know, us get in the way of that.”

“Light and casual,” he repeats, nodding in sympathy with Uraraka. “Uh, Ochako?”

“You can call me by my first name,” Ochako says. “I mean, we’re, uh, together now, right?”

“Um,” Midoriya says. “Um, right. Well, you can call me Izuku, then.”

Again, there is a silence. The two of them try to fight down the tides of embarrassment and general, overwhelming emotion pouring over them and after a minute or two, mostly succeed.

“We are very, very new to this, aren’t we?” Ochako says.

“You’re honestly the first girl that I’ve been able to talk to for more than ten seconds without freezing up,” Izuku admits. “And maybe we don’t know each other as well as we’d—“

He searches for the word.

“Like?” Ochako suggests.

“—as well as we’d like,” Izuku says.

“Well, that’s what dating is supposed to be about, isn’t it?” Ochako says, giving him a small smile. “Getting to know each other?”

“Yeah,” Izuku says. He returns her smile, a little hesitantly. “So, uh. Do you want to get to know each other a little better, uh, next Saturday?”

Ochako’s smile widens into something brilliant and golden, and Izuku finds himself answering it with one of his own.

“I’d love to,” Ochako says.

“Oh my god,” Mina groans, flopping face-first into Momo’s bedspread.

“What is it now?” Momo says, not looking up from the article she’s idly scrolling through.

“Okay so Midoriya getting stabbed and all was horrible and awful and I really hope that it never happens again,” Mina says. “But come on, him being in mortal peril? Ura staying by his bed for a week all teary-eyed while Recovery Girl healed him back up and made sure that he wasn’t going to have an infection? The situation was perfect.”

“So?”

“So why aren’t they smooshing booties yet?”

Mina lets her head flop back down and screams into Momo’s bed.

“You’d better not be getting any spit on my sheets,” Momo says calmly.

“Okay, you know what we need to do?” Mina says after a minute, popping back up. She drops her fist into her open palm.

“Step up our—“

“Step up our game!” Mina declares. “We need to get these two adorable losers together at any cost.”

“Oh,” Momo says, without much enthusiasm. “Wonderful.”

Unbeknownst to them, in a clearing in the forest just outside of the main campus, Ochako and Izuku are laughing with each other, sitting side by side, their eyes bright and their smiles wide. Ochako’s hand sits atop Izuku’s, their fingers interlaced as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

The world is not well, they know. Outside of their little sanctuary the world seethes with hate and rage and cruelty.

But for now, in their own little world, all is well.

#uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #bnha #uravity bang #long post

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zakamore1 · 6 years

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before i do some D&D for today I wanna take up @chapelseed‘s dare and post the first chapter of my book. It’s not great, and not fully proofread but I feel like sharing it owo

so without further ado, chapter one of Inner Sin

Inner Sin

Book 1

Original Sin

Chapter 1

Nightmares

As usual, the subway was an overcrowded mess. Bodies pushed up against each other hanging onto flimsy metal bands while the few and lucky people got their seat off to the side, many of them filling the seats around them with whatever useless junk they dragged with them. Chris Mattews was one such lucky person, having gotten on at such a remote station in the city and at such an ungodly hour that it was empty by the time he'd gotten on. He couldn't complain either, he'd hate to be one of the drones of people around him standing in silent anger, especially with what little sleep he had gotten the night before. Where he was was comfortable for him.

So much so it wasn't surprising he'd drift off…

The crowded train was gone from view. In its place Chris was left in an endless expanse of black, the floor seeming to ripple with each careful step he took.

“Hello?” He called out, his voice echoing around from every direction. On and on the only sound he heard was his own and the only thing he could see was black.

The voice he heard started to turn from his own, sounding distorted and scratchy. The rippling of the ground stopped coming from Chris’ steps, they were coming from in front of him.

Hellohellohellohellohhhhheeeeeeelllllllll

“Ooooooo? Chris, anyone home in there?” Chris was stirred awake by the person next to him, moving the brown bangs of his long messy hair out from his eyes. Ricky was ready to snap in his face again as he had been for the past few minutes, giving a cocky grin to his friend as he came to.

“‘Ey there we go! Up and at em Chris boy, we're almost at our stop.” Ricky’s voice bled with his Brooklyn origins. “You still jet lagged or somethin’?”

“Uh yeah… guess so.” Chris said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, grabbing his bag and joining his friend standing. “Honestly ever since I got back I've been having bad dreams.”

“No kiddin’? Sure you don't need to see ol’ Rouge then?” Ricky snickered, reaching into his pocket to show the top of a bag. “Or maybe more medicinal help~?”

“Fuck off Ricky,” Chris’ voice turned stern, a ding and muffled voice over the train’s sound system announcing they were at their stop. “I'm not buying your crap.” He then quickly followed along with the crowd of people exiting the train, leaving his friend to roll his eyes.

“Pfft, stick.”

Chris imagined his high school was like just about every other one; old, poorly funded, and filled with people he didn't know or care about. His only focus towards anyone in the school was limited to the people of his class, all of which were scattered around the room chatting away as he entered.

“Good lord Micheal!” Screamed out the short blonde girl, Brianna, to her much taller peer. “Can you not keep it in your pants for one night? I can barely hear my own thoughts with all that noise from your apartment!”

“So sorry Bri, but I just couldn't help myself!” Micheal chuckled to his neighbor, waving her off. “Besides, if you couldn't sleep you could have always joi-”

“God no!! Keep you and your little… sexcapades outta my life.” She huffed, taking her seat at the front of the class. As she sat she was joined by her desk neighbor, Chris, turning to him now. “Honestly, can you believe him? Why do people fall for him?”

“Couldn't tell you,” Chris shrugged, leaning onto his desk with his head in his hands. “I've just learned to tune his room out at this point.”

Brianna shook her head in annoyance, leaving Chris to listen in on the rest of his classmates.

“‘Ey how you doing there Jenna? Enjoyed yourself last night, I hear from a buddy you got some good stuff.” He heard Ricky say, most likely near the back of the class talking up to Jenna, who was more than likely already high off her mind and blankly staring off into space next to Alex.

“Shut up Ricky…” she said, a groan coming from her. “It's from my doctor not your creep friends…”

“‘Ey who said I'm not friends with doctors? Heheheh!”

Chris let the snickering voice of Ricky fill his head as he slowly felt himself drift back off into sleep…

Once again Chris was back in the dark void he was in before, the floor he was on before now a pitch black liquid that reached his knees. All around him he could hear the same laugh that brought him back here, reverberating from all around this void.

“This is a weird ass dream…” Chris said to himself, his own voice drowned out by the laughter. Looking down at his legs he could see the ripples in the water once again coming from somewhere in front of him. But he wasn't prepared for what was there.

Emerging from the liquid was a mass of black gunk, writhing and shaking to and fro as it grew. The mass began to slender up into a long form, the top pushing forward towards Chris. From the very top popped open two, large, glowing yellow eyes, the slitted irises pointing down on Chris. The two shared a silent staring contest for a time before an elongated row of jagged, yellow teeth grew across the “face” of this mass, forming a smile. The jagged mouth opened to follow along with the laughter echoing through the room, the sound becoming distorted and corrupted as it synced up with the noise.

HeheheHEHeheHehEHEheheHEHEHEhEheH

“Mr. Mattews!!” Was the words yelled down at Chris that woke him from his unconscious state. Looking up Chris was met by the scrutinizing stare of his teacher, Mr. Amuny, his brow furrowed in clear annoyance.

“So nice of you to join us from your current trip to dreamland.” He said, chuckling coming from some of his classmates. “I'm amazed you were able to take another one so soon after your trip to Israel, it must have been quite expensive.” His voice was laced with sarcasm and annoyance.

“Sorry sir…” Chris sheepishly said as he stood up in his seat, trying to be as awake as possible.

“As you should be,” Mr. Amuny said, looking down at Chris before taking his seat at his own desk. “Now then, seeing how Mr. Mattews missed the beginning of class, and it's a half day, I'll just pass back your reports.” At the sound of such an assignment, Chris silently panicked, knowing full well he missed it entirely.

“Brianna Kingsly!” The Indian man called out into the class, said person giddily skipping up to the front desk. “Your report on the current political standing and its needed improvements was an intriguing read. An A+ for you.” He announced, handing Brianna a folder.

“Thank you Mr. Amuny! I just want to help our country obviously~.” Brianna said as she snatched the folder, her words drowning with sweetness and pride.

“Mr. Safrete!” Amuny called once again, the person coming up being the portly Horton Safrete, still eating his bagel from the morning. “While I'm not a nutritionist or very knowledgeable in how genetics and weight are connected, I applauded you for your work. B-.”

“Thanks professor.” Horton said between chews. “Put a lotta work into it, I appreciate it.”

“Neid!!” Calling out another name and bringing forth the skiny demeanor of Alex Neid shuffling up to the front desk. “I must say I'm a little surprised by how close your work was in comparison to Ms. Kingsly’s on politics. C.”

“T-thank you Mr. Amuny…” Alex shyly told their teacher, shuffling back to the end of the room. Mr. Amuny’s eyes soon narrowed down onto Chris, filling the young man’s heart with dread.

“Let me guess Mr. Mattews,” he spoke even though he knew the answer. “You don't have the report I told you about before you left?”

“I um…” Chris started to say, trying to come up with some excuse for himself. Luckily for him it seemed his talkitive friends had his back on this.

“Prof. Amuny,” Micheal’s smooth talking voice came. “If I may, wouldn't it make much more sense for our dear Chris to write about his experience abroad?”

“Yeah! I'd think it'd be an awesome read.” Ricky butted in.

“Probably better than most of ours…” was faintly picked up from the back coming from Jenna.

“Shut up!!” Roared Amuny, slamming his fist on the table and shocking the group of students to attention. A disgruntled sigh escaped the older man as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I commend you all for coming to the aid of your peer, but that doesn't mean I'm changing your grades.” Brianna gave a slight snort at that, smirking. “But as well… I agree with your thoughts. Very well Mr. Mattews…” his gaze returned to Chris and the bearded smile he was given creeped Chris to his core. “Fifty pages on your experience in Israel on my desk tomorrow.”

Chris felt his heart sink at such a task, staring up at his teacher. “H-how am I suppose to do that?!”

“Not my problem Mattews. Here's hoping you got enough sleep in class.” Once Amuny finished that sentence the school bell rang, the trampling sound of students leaving beginning to pick up. “Well it seems you're all free for today, we'll be continuing our lesson on reptiles tomorrow, make sure to bone up on the chapter on snakes.” Amuny’s words practically fell on deaf ears as his students had begun to leave.

“Not you Mattews.” Chris heard, stopping dead in his tracks from packing, once again looking up at Mr. Amuny. “Seeing how you missed so much class, including today, I thought it might be worth while to give you a crash course.” Once again the older man’s grin was terrifying, Chris’ only comfort being the hand placed on his shoulder.

“Good luck…” Jenna tiredly said, yawning and adjusting her glasses before taking her hand and leaving. Horton and Ricky at the door gave a silent prayer while Micheal drew a cross over his chest.

‘Oh boy…’ Chris thought to himself, gulping.

Three hours. Three grueling hours of a constant bombardment of information, and if Chris even started to drift off he was smacked back awake. Needless to say this wasn't exactly how Chris thought his first day back would be like.

“I don't want to hear another god damn thing about reptiles ever again.” Chris groaned as he walked down the street. It was the dead of night at this point, and for a street in New York it was rather empty, but that's how Chris preferred it. He hoped it'd be this easy and less crowded on his whole trip home as frankly he just wanted to write his report and sleep for a thousand years.

Suddenly though Chris felt a… pain in the back of his head. It was sharp and quick at first but it struck him again as he moved forward, stumbling on his feet and falling against an alleyway garbage bin. “Oww… fuck…” Chris groaned, rubbing his still stinging head.

“What was that?” Chris went as dead silent as possible, covering his mouth to quiet his breathing. The voice he'd heard was rough and wet, like a saw moving through water. And it sounded close. Peaking over the edge of the bin gave Chris a sight that nearly made him vomit.

Standing in the far side of the alley under the flickering light of a lamp was a tall figure, standing well over Chris’ own six feet in height, hunched over scanning the area with bright, piercing red eyes. Its body looked humanoid, but parts were seemingly stretched, patches of whatever clothing it had being torn open by a series of jagged spikes that seemed to cover itself, two massive ones having sprouted from its arms reaching the ground. Its mouth held a row of long, sharp teeth that were very clearly covered in blood and gore, the source of which was undoubtedly the ripped apart body that it was hunched over.

Holding back his scream and vomit, Chris slowly pulled away from viewing the sight, hoping he wasn't seen himself. He needed to run, to hide, call the police, the god damn army. He needed help, now.

Another sharp pain dug through Chris’ head, having to bite back his urge to scream in agony but unable to keep his leg from jerking out in pain.

*clinck-kongalongalong*

A discarded can was right in his foot’s path and was now scattered across the alley, loudly skipping across the ground. Chris didn't even have time to panic, he got up as fast as he could and made a run for it.

But he didn't get far.

“I thought I heard something~.” Chris felt the hood of his jacket get grabbed as his body was lifted with it, getting a glimpse of the monstrosity he had saw just a moment ago up close. It was only a glimpse because he was thrown backwards across the alley, soaring through the air before slamming against the wall. Chris could feel a rib crack, blood filling his mouth as he tried to stand but couldn't, his legs were paralyzed from fear. He spat out a glob of blood and noticed he was next to the mangled, half eaten corpse he had seen before, but couldn't bring himself to throw up as he looked to see the monster in front of him. “I thought I was going to be done tonight, but I guess you're just in time for dessert!!”

The creature cackled and laughed as it brought its mass spike up ready to strike Chris. This was it for him. Only one thought was left in his head.

“Help.”

Help

Helphelpgelphelphelphhhheeeelllpppppp

“Ok.”

#My writing #my book #original character #original story #Inner Sin

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amandacary-writes-blog · 7 years

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“Silence” -Amanda Cary, 2017

When I was a little girl, I had three wishes.

I wished to never own a wire coat hanger, such crude and despicable things made only to wrinkle my blouses and irritate me beyond measure.

I wished for two children, one boy and one girl, who would never feel hungry or want for a single thing.

Above all else, I wished to marry the most beautiful man who ever lived beneath God, and that he would in kind marry me back. And this man would know how to gracefully love and speak to a girl who was deaf like me.

In this moment, though, all I can wish is that none of those things had ever come true.

———————————————————————————

‘A splash of cream and two sugars for you. How about a blueberry muffin on the house?’

Her hands moved gracefully when she spoke to me as if she’d been doing it for years, but I’d seen her with the customers ahead of me. She wasn’t deaf.

'You sign? Very kind of you. You’re not deaf?’

'My older brother is deaf. It was the first language I learned to speak.’ She crinkled her nose to top a toothy grin. 'Do sign to me next time, sweetheart, and go ahead and ask for me if I’m not at the bar. Would you like that muffin?’

'Yes, please,’ I wasn’t sure how to reply, 'thank you very much.’

I’d only been visiting the diner for two days. My little Nanette had begun public school the week before, so my husband suggested I leave the house and “experience a bit of life,” in exactly those words, of course. Grey was kind to me in that way and pushed me to feel happy with myself. I always supposed most wives didn’t live with the sort of freedom he allowed me, so I took his suggestion.

The place was quaint, nothing to be particularly excited about. Black and white vinyl flooring and small wooden tables with spindly legs paired with straight backed wooden chairs. I would have chosen curved backs for the chairs if I’d had the chance, but it wasn’t my diner, so I sat and did not contemplate interior design any longer.

Everything appeared to be silent aside from a single white carnation standing as centerpiece atop the table, enlisting the help of a soda bottle to keep it tall, until a thin hand approached my shoulder and caused me a jump of sorts.

Light brown eyes much like the color of raw Mexican honey raised their eyebrows and stole the chair across from me. They smiled. Her teeth were unusually white, but her left canine layered itself over the rest. Her mouth seemed just a bit happier in that one spot than anywhere else on the rest of her face - her nose a crinkle as she grinned. She was pleasant enough, so I smiled back.

'Do you mind?’ She brought her own cup of coffee, black. 'It’s time for my break. May I ask you to keep me company? Everyone else here looks absolutely boring.' Amused with herself, her eyes widened before giving me a quick wink as she let the tip of her tongue catch in her teeth. A tiny nose once again shriveled into her top lip. She was indignant and cute. I nodded, and her hands spoke, 'What’s your name?’

'Marie,’ for the first time feeling insecure about my overly-common name, I winked back, 'boring, I know.’

That first day, we spoke for only twenty minutes. Her job behind the cash register was given to her by her father, which explained my own curiosities. It wasn’t often one would see a woman in her position, even more unlikely a woman seemingly in charge.

———————————————————————————

Grey was waiting at our breakfast table with Nanette, bouncing beneath red ringlets and eager for a hug when I returned from my shopping that day. They were patiently pining for the gossip of a newly free-bird mother.

'How was it?’ He signed skillfully despite his usually clumsy fingers. He was a large and abrasive man - clunky but kind, calloused from working the dairy.

We met in a private school for the hearing impaired when we were both nine years old. We had what could nearly be considered an arranged marriage made by two locally prominent families who were lucky enough during the depression to keep some wealth. His mornings were spent milking, but our families made sure to leave us a substantial and comfortable existence. We wanted for nothing as a family of three, and he was a truly beautiful man.

'Lovely! Thank you for insisting I get some air, Grey. It really has been wonderful. I hadn’t noticed how cooped up I was feeling.’ I planted my lips on his cheek then retreated - our daily peck.

Gathering a five-year-old bundle of curls into my arms, I squeezed Nanette until she giggled her way loose.

'I missed you, Momma,’ she signed with the sweet, stubby fingers of most children her age, although it had no effect on her talent in doing so. Thankfully, she could hear perfectly well.

'I missed you, too, punkin nose.’ That nickname always warranted a squeezed nose and a kiss on the forehead, so I gave her just that.

I caught Grey’s eyes as he watched us fondly, but something foreign inside of me wanted him to look away. So I changed course.

'I almost forgot. I found this dress shirt for you, dear.’ Pulling a crisp, white-collared suit shirt from my shopping and laying it gently across the cream of the table top, I added, 'I made a friend, as well. Her name is Lillie. I think you would approve, darling.'

———————————————————————————

When I was fifteen, I was given fantasies. I’ve never really known how to express that thought properly because they were not dreams I would have imagined myself. At least, I can’t believe I would have. Not now, not as a Christian mother and wife.

Before the summer of '39, Miss Gering left the boarding school for a period deemed as indefinite. I was quite fond of her, if not most fond of her when compared to the other teachers at the school. Before she left, she visited my room, and with a playful finger placed atop pursed “shhh” lips, she handed me a perfectly cubed rose-colored box just large enough to hold one pair of shoes.

'These are yours, now. Don’t let anyone know or they’ll take them away.’ She finished her sign with the same kindness she always did and left a young lady to her own mind.

Inside the box were small, paper books much like the short detective stories I’d read many times before, and inside those books were sex, love, infidelity, murder - demons and drama beyond anything I could believe people who weren’t written into a tale have ever experienced. I spent the entirety of that summer absorbed in a gritty human wilderness, abstract and littered with breasts and blood and passion and pain, and part of me never returned from that place.

Grey and I made love to one another nearly every night once we were married. He was sweet and gentle, and he touched me in every God-given place that I’d read a woman should be touched, but not even Grey could make me boil in such a way that those stories could. I accepted as an adult that those were simply fiction, and sinful as I was to have indulged in such things, I supposed it must have been my punishment to deal more practically in sex than I’d desired.

———————————————————————————

The thing about being both deaf and also quite introverted is that you learn how to avoid people, particularly strangers who may feel the need to approach you and speak unwarranted.

I’d observed that the color blue was less likely to attract attention, and if I wore that as a very obsolete A-line dress coupled with flat white patent leathers, people had a tendency to look right over me without a second glance. My wardrobe, therefore, was completely filled with blue A-lined dresses hung neatly with wooden dowel coat hangers and white patent leather flats, aside from the few straggling garments Grey had given to me as gifts, as husbands are intended to do.

On that day, it was robin’s egg blue with a stark white cotton collar, as I was feeling more adventurous and talkative than usual. It didn’t seem a bad idea to put my rusty mouth to use for the sake of a healthy conversation, and I’d often reminded myself that I should have felt very blessed to have been given seven years of hearing in order to make it easier for me to do so without sign.

With the exception of Lillith, the diner was vacant when I arrived that morning. The rush of the working crowd must have cleared its way through early. Or perhaps I took longer to dress than usual.

Regardless of the reason, Lillie was waiting patiently for me with coffee and a blueberry muffin in hand. Three months of friendship, and she knew exactly what I preferred on Monday mornings, along with every other morning, and always greeted me with her silly crooked tooth standing front and center.

'How is that you haven’t yet been abducted by a ravenous, muffin-crazed, maniacally caffeinated man, Lillith?' She pouted in retort, and turned her cheek to me as per usual, gracefully accepting my apologies in the form of a neat kiss.

“That gig has been filled,” she spoke aloud as she set my breakfast on the bar, pointing towards the cafe’s kitchen with a thumb. 'How could you possibly forget Hal?’ She always referred to her father by his name, and she always laughed as she did - and I always imagined her laughter sounded as beautiful as it looked.

I loved watching Lillie speak to me. Her lips moved even more naturally than her hands, and her eyes played in unison with her mouth to a depth that I’d never noticed in anyone else. I’d always only read lips, but I often found myself watching the fine lines around her eyes as she carried on. She was earthy and playful and even tossed about some deviance that I found utterly charming. She had a habit of turning her face down as she smiled up at me, as if catching herself embarrassed. She made me feel powerful in some way that I didn’t understand, and I looked forward to this stirring in myself each and every weekday morning.

'I see you’re dressed rather loudly today, Miss Marie.' She’d previously inquired about my solid blue wardrobe and I’d explained, so a tease was in order concerning the brightness of today’s dress choice. I wouldn’t have expected a thing less from her.

'I was hoping it would help me get through this place without you gabbing my face off, but I’m starting to think nothing will do the trick. I just have to live with your incessant yapping, don’t I?’ Another pout, then a smile, then an odd pause that was very unlike her. I’d even begun to think I might have finally hurt her feelings.

“Would you mind helping me a little today, Marie,” she said aloud, making sure to grasp my wrist and look directly into my face, certain I didn’t miss a single twinge. She seemed concerned, “Hal has to leave early, so I’m by myself to clean up. Would you mind? Please?”

'Of course, madam. Do you intend to pay me?' Her sincerity was making me a bit uncomfortable.

“I do believe I’ve fully paid you and more with free coffee and muffins, but if you insist we’re fair here, I’ll be happy to give you kitchen duty every afternoon.” She lifted my left hand from my lap, and a kiss to my middle knuckle turned my belly backward, “thank you, Marie. See you in a few hours.”

———————————————————————————

The next three hours passed over me as a haze that I couldn’t from myself from. Not a thought of Grey or Nanette or even scripture could revive me from this burning.

I knew exactly what Lillith wanted just as anyone else who could have been sitting in that chair in that moment - anyone else who could have felt her would have known. I should have run and never come back to the diner. I should have returned home to my picturesque family. The twined and invasive thoughts of doing such a terrible thing under the eyes of God - a betrayal of my sweet Grey - turned me filthy. Horrid. Disgusted with myself. Hot. Flushed. Electric. Pounding. I could feel nothing but racing waves washing over every inch of my body. Into my face, filling my toes. Between my thighs.

I wanted her.

When I stepped into the diner, unable to sign, unable to smile, she was waiting for me with the empty cafe drapes drawn to full cream sheet - as closely as they could be pulled together. Her eyes as golden as I’d ever seen them, devilish as she walked towards me to lock the door, I noticed for the first time the softness at the dip of her neck - just where it met her collar bones - and that’s where I kissed first. Every time.

———————————————————————————

The shower floor was cold enough to draw me in like an abyss, covered in vomit and my own fluids, but the release left me in a warmth that I welcomed with overwhelming gratitude. Had I known just how useful a wire coat hanger could have been to me at that time, I might have been friendlier to them. A razor to the wrist is much less forgiving and infinitely more permanent.

Grey made sure my funeral was heavenly despite knowing I would go straight to hell. Had I ever told him how I felt with Lillie, perhaps he would have understood that I had been dead since the day she left me standing alone. Had I not continued being his wife and fallen pregnant with our second child, she would have taken me with her, and he would have never been forced to find me like that, having poured myself down the drain.

Silence is overestimated by those who have been distracted by noise their entire lives. I have felt the ecstasy of a moan travel from a kiss to my toes, and I have seen a heart disassemble itself into pieces and disappear as it plead for reassurance I knew it would not receive from me. I have tasted the hatred on a tongue that loved me moments before she learned that I had been lying to her and would never give her what she wanted.

And in my silence, I was saved from the sound of my little Nanette - with her sweet red ringlets gone soggy and sickly, forced by her mother into a darkness she should have been years and years still innocent of - screaming as she watched me sobbing and naked in a world of my own, emptying the remnants of myself and of all the thoughts that I could stand to hear no longer.

~Amanda Cary

Published via TheProse.com

#writeblr #writersmatter #writers on tumblr #writers #amandacary writes #lovefruitcake #love #death #innocence #shortstory #shorts #read #long reads

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mgtowmemes · 7 years

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Men Don’t Exist

Link: https://selfknowledgedaily.com/men-don-t-exist-society-s-indifference-towards-male-suffering-3f580ef6b21d#.ex2mi788t

Men Don’t Exist: Society’s Indifference Towards Male Suffering

“A woman cries and everybody rushes to give her what she wants, and a man cries and everyone scorns and looks away embarrassed.

We no more think of warming our hearts towards the warm hearts of boys than we do of imagining changing the position of the sun by twisting the dials on our clocks. To suggest it is insane. To imagine it’s occurring is deranged. We are that far from the emancipation from the isolation of the human male child.

We raise men COLD, FROZEN, BRUTALIZED, through the cold Medusa eyes of indifference and then, you see, we complain that the hierarchy, the Patriarchy of Men is not very nice!” — Stefan Molyneux from the YouTube video How A Man’s Heart Is Murdered

Besides the incredibly large collections of data that have been organized and presented in YouTube videos such as “The Truth About Male Privilege,” “The Truth About Domestic Violence,” “The Truth About Rape Culture,” “The Truth About Violence,” or the plethora of social experiments that truly show the extent to which society simply doesn’t care about men, which I’d recommend watching if the idea that men having any significant issues in the west sounds completely absurd to you, I can scarcely think of a better way to validate the thesis that society (especially women) does not care about men and boys than to try this simple experiment:

Simply talk about the very real issues that males face today. And, if you can, try talking about them to a woman. Make sure they are adamant about not just taking your word for it; show them the facts. Show them the facts about spanking, which reveal that mothers spank more than fathers and that boys are more likely to get spanked than girls. Talk about how between 60% and 80% of rapists, sex offenders, and sexually aggressive men were sexually abused by a woman in their childhood. Mention to them the devastating short and long term effects of circumcision as well as how three-quarters of American adult men are circumcised. Or, share the underlying data which show that women are as physically aggressive, or more aggressive, than men in their relationships with their spouses or male partners, yet despite this fact, there are no shelters for men.

Talk to them about these issues and see how they respond. From my own experience, the sad truth is that even the most heartfelt attempts I’ve made to evoke sympathy and understanding towards the suffering of men and boys through some of my most carefully crafted sentences fall completely on deaf ears. The sheer number of futile attempts I’ve made to evoke even the smallest iota of understanding and compassion towards the suffering towards men and boys is enough to drive one to despair.

Take this brief exchange I had in the comment section of an anti-circumcision (anti baby boy genital mutilation) Facebook picture that was being shared. The names I’ll make up.

Bob commented by saying:

Men have a right to be extremely angry about what is being done to them. This is child abuse of the worst kind.

To which I replied:

We are mutilated as babies, hit by our parents as children , yelled at and humiliated by our teachers as adolescents and teenagers, only to then be told that we the oppressive ones, that we are the spousal abusers, the rapists of society and if we are single and live alone, possibly due to the low self-esteem that occurs as a result of this incessant scorn, then at the very least, we objectify others through our video games.

It’s no wonder the suicide rate for men is so high.

Then a woman I’ll call Sherry joined the discussion with:

See, but hasn’t the ‘stigma’ of living alone changed a bit. I view any male in my age bracket who doesn’t live at home, more of a responsible adult. Just sayin.

And we can tie in what you are saying to the need to be accepted. Ie: Bruce/ Caitlin Jenner. Why have I always felt so out of place? “why don’t you act like a pretty girl?” “why do you like the Dukes of Hazzard? You’re a girl. You should be playing with dolls” Fuck you. I like cars and dirt and camping and fishing. I like to play in the mud. And I like to get my hands dirty… Even when I have my fucking nails did…

Accepting who we are is important.

She later wrote:

See and I’ve never met a guy who was unhappy about being circumcised. And I have met a few who weren’t but to ‘fit in’ they wanted one….

Reactions like Sherry’s are incredibly frustrating for men like me because men are often shamed considerably for lacking sensitivity and have been told repeatedly about the superiority of female empathy. Yet, when it comes time to demonstrate this superior empathy, when you begin to talk about men’s issues, you get these kind of indifferent, annoying, and irrelevant knee-jerk responses that have become all too typical. Almost inevitably will somebody (often a woman) come into a discussion about how an issue specifically effects men and boys and immediately move the conversation away from men by saying something like, “Well, it’s a human being issue! This ties into something larger, like the over all human need to be accepted, which is experienced by men and women alike!”

Could you imagine if I said, “I’ve never met a women who was unhappy in the kitchen all day! But, if they are suffering from near catatonic depression, we can tie that into the need of wanting to be fulfilled. Gosh, I hated being expected to like sports as a guy!”

And when they do finally bring the conversation back towards men, it’s when something negative about women such as female aggression towards children is brought up, in which case you will hear the “Yes, but men too!” response as if to again remind us of how terrible men can be.

“Yes, I women are violent, but men are violent too. And they rape more.”

Of course men are violent too! It’s not too interesting to say men can be aggressive, jerks, rapists, murderers, and child abusers. Nor is it terribly interesting to say that women can be victims of aggressive male jerks, rapists, murderers and child abusers. It’s uninteresting because it is blatantly true. It’s so true that stating it sounds more like an observation than a criticism.

Besides, the statement that "women play a role in the cycle of violence" does not mean "men do not play a role in the cycle of violence," any more than the statement "cats bite about 750,000 people a year" implies that "dogs don’t bite people at all as well.”

But when women's capacity for aggression and female responsibility is talked about, it's so often the case that people respond as if that's exactly what you just said. Now, there are probably many reasons for this, some which might involve propaganda or even biology, so I’m not saying I think that these reactions are the result of “women’s inherent badness” or “women’s inherent stupidity.” After all, men do it too! … No really. I’m not being facetious. After one post I made about the abuse I suffered from my mother, a guy responded:

“What is causing you to feel so angry? I understand the frustration your are feeling in your life and about your mom, but you said you are going to sit in anger now. Is this a recent realization?”

This is largely the purpose for talking about how certain issues specifically effect men and boys at all; because these are things that people are still largely indifferent towards, ignore, or even inappropriately turn into subjects of humor, whereas this is not the case with women’s issues. And not only does that mean men’s suffering is overlooked, but so is female evil, and to ignore or excuse female evil is highly sexist towards women as it puts them in the position of an infant by taking moral responsibility from them, which in turn only enables the cycle of violence to continue.

So, when people respond as they did in the previous examples that I had given, it only further confirms and validates the thesis that compassion towards men and boys is so rare as to be practically nonexistent, which is why it’s so important to speak up for them.

The truth is that the violence in men we see today is a symptom of and is directly proportional to the lack of love from women in the world. It is the lack of love from women that is killing the world, not just male violence. When I see a male dictator, or rapist, a pedophile, a thief, a gang member, a murderer, I see a cold, emotionally incestuous, distancing, and/or violent mother.

This isn’t my mommy issues or my hatred of women speaking. It is just an empirical fact that women play role in the cycle of violence. In addition to male violence, beyond reasonable doubt, beyond serious doubt, beyond sane, informed, intelligent doubt, beyond doubt it is a fact that the lack of love from women is also killing this planet.

We’ve spent decades attempting to heal the world through pointing out male violence. It hasn’t worked. It doesn’t work. It will never work, not unless we talk about that which is under-acknowledged, ignored and overlooked — female evil.

As a friend of mine once said,

“The degree to which we can have empathy for girls and not for boys, is the same degree in which we lack empathy.” — Patrick Chapman

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evenstevensranked · 7 years

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#47: Season 1, Episode 1 - Swap.com

A true piece of Even Stevens history right here, guys! This was the very first episode to air... ever! It premiered on June 17th, 2000 (yes, 17 years ago!!!) and introduced us all to a baby-faced, comedic boy wonder Shia LaBeouf. And a bright, young actress (pre-Kim Possible) Christy Carlson Romano.

Strangely enough, our first glimpse into the Even Stevens-verse is an episode centered around a one-off character. Louis desperately wants to possess a rare trading card. Ernie Morton, the school nerd, owns the card and is willing to give it up for a price: A date with Ren.

This one opens with Louis and Twitty at school in some computer/Geography hybrid class. As their teacher begins a lecture on Afghanistan, we get the very first actual dialogue of the series, and it’s pretty good imo:

Teacher: Now, if you turn your attention to Afghanistan... Louis: [shouting at the computer with joy] YES!!! Twitty: Louis, it’s just Afghanistan. What’s the big deal?

Of course, Louis isn’t celebrating over the wonders of Afghanistan. He’s talking to someone online who’s willing to sell him what’s clearly supposed to be a knock-off of a rare and highly coveted Pokémon trading card. This is so funny in retrospect because the entire planet was playing Pokémon Go! last year. Points for maintaining relevancy! But basically, Louis really wants to own a Roaring Drycon... Which is not a Pokémon, but is definitely supposed to be a Pokémon:

Yes. The internet used to look like this.

It turns out, the seller of the card is none other than Ernie Morton. A frankly nasty, unhygienic, arrogant, nerdy creeper to say the least. Thank god he’s a throwaway character and only here for this one episode. He tells Louis that the price he’s asking for is a date with Ren.

Louis says to himself: “Why couldn’t he just ask for something easy? Like my mom’s Volvo.” - This is a small, but interesting parallel to Boy Meets World and was only brought to my attention when I read through this ranking of every BMW episode. Apparently, Cory puts on music, Topanga asks where he got it from and he says “I don’t know. It came with my mom’s Volvo.” Idk. Like I mentioned before.. there are a few (stronger) similarities between the two shows. I might even start a similarities tag, lol. But, yeah. This really stood out to me for some reason.

There’s a scene where two girls approach Twitty all flirty in the hallway and Louis makes them run for this hills after awkwardly shouting “WAAAZZZUUUP?!?” at them. (Which I’m assuming is a reference to the classic Budweiser commercial that premiered in 1999 and became a popular catchphrase.) I’ve seen so many gifs of this. I’m even guilty of using one on my about page. Louis tells Twitty that he made the deal with Ernie, explaining “Ernie just wants to hang out with a popular girl, and I happen to live with one.” Once again, reminding me that Ren is supposed to be popular! I still think it’s cool that she’s not the stereotypical, vapid popular girl you usually see though.

Ren really wants to beat this chick Adrienne Dunmore for Service Volunteer of the Month. She’s currently falling behind her and needs to work 4 more hours over the weekend. We see another one of Ren’s early placeholder BFFs, an Asian girl named Jewel. Random, but both of Ren’s placeholder best friends were minorities. Doesn’t really mean anything, lol. Just something I noticed.

Ren staring at Adrienne all green with envy after checking their volunteer hours. But, can we talk about how Ren’s entire bellybutton and stomach is showing?! What the heck, Disney?! I know it was in style I guess. But, for an 8th grader? Also, aside from it being purple... It doesn’t really seem like something Ren would wear. Probably just a first-episode hiccup.

And here’s Jewel. She’s also very peppy like Charlotte.

We see the Stevens family at home that night celebrating Ren’s birthday! There’s a pretty funny bit where Donnie gives Ren various pictures of himself, blissfully unaware of how narcissistic he is. The show makes good use of this later on. One particular picture of Donnie “on vacation” is seen on Ren’s bedside table in After Hours! I love good, subtle continuity! It helps make their world feel a little more real.

Donnie’s gift in this episode.

...and here seen in S1, E13. This is actually pretty funny. Another photo he gave her of himself playing baseball can be seen in the bottom/left, too. Haha, perfect. The only weird thing is that it looks like she has some strange Donnie shrine, lol wth.

Louis obviously forgot to get Ren a gift and tries to play it off by saying “I got her a thing. It’s a very very nice thing. But, I got it over the internet. These things don’t just pop out of the screen” with a mouth full of cake. It’s funny, but also a little sad. Steve says “Oh, Lou. Not again...” (which I hear perpetually in my mind whenever Louis messes up) before the entire family clears out of the living room -- disappointed as he rambles off his excuses. Oh, god.. I’m seeing shades of Uncle Chuck.

Louis is wracking his mind trying to come up with a way to get Ren and Ernie to hang out together alone. Once he gets an idea, there’s a bit where he knocks on her door to tell her. It’s been gif’d a bunch and is a very popular post on here. Being clever (and selfish) he tells Ren there’s a program called “Adopt A Friend,” where you hang out with a needy young person for a day as some form of community service. Okay, I’m actually dying now that I have to write this out, oh my god. LOUIS!!!!!!! He tells her that Adrienne Dunmore is considering doing the non-existent program, which piques Ren’s interest. We get a voiceover of Louis telling her about Ernie, blatantly lying about the kind of guy he is. Using words like “nice, giving, helpful, and great!” This is juxtaposed against a montage of the real Ernie doing various things that are the complete opposite. He’s basically the worst kind of human.

Cut to the mall now! Ren meets Ernie and wow he didn’t even try to look good.

I can tell ya one thing -- If this was The Bachelorette, Ernie Morton would not be receiving the First Impression Rose.

For whatever reason, Ren treats him like a special needs child or something? Talking to him in simplified English, slowly and loud as if he’s deaf or has trouble understanding. Louis said he was NEEDY! Not impaired in some way! (Well, maybe socially impaired...) This bit is kinda funny but it’s also kinda like... Wut. Anyway, Ernie takes Louis aside and gushes about how he can’t believe he pulled off this date. He does this really creepy/annoying thing where he sticks his tongue out constantly and I hate it. Ew.

But, yes. Ernie is under the impression it’s an actual date. He even says he’ll only give Louis the trading card after he gets his “goodbye kiss.” Problem, indeed.

Louis spends the rest of the mall sequence sneakily running around like a freaking stalker... hiding in plants and behind newspapers -- to make sure Ernie doesn’t try anything, and that no one from school sees Ren and Ernie together.

The worry in his eyes and lack of discreetness is making me laugh harder than anything else.

Ren spends 4 hours with Ernie and actually ends up having an okay time. She genuinely thanks him for “a wonderful afternoon” after taking some photobooth pictures together -- and that’s apparently good enough for Ernie. He gives Louis the card!!! Louis is stoked, but then the remorse starts to seep in. (I love remorseful Louis, though. It helps gives him more dimension.) He notices Ren window shopping and staring at a pearl necklace ~longingly~ before they head home.

Ren is super excited to turn in her hours at school (going above and beyond, writing an entire paper on her experience) only to discover there is no “Adopt A Friend” program. Yeah. I’d be pissed, too. Not only that, she finds out that Ernie has been telling the entire school that they’re dating. She lashes out at him in front of everyone saying she wouldn’t date him if he were the last guy on earth and storms off. A little harsh, but is it really? Ernie was way out of line spreading fake intimate stories and lies.

Ernie left in Ren’s dust, being made fun of.

This show has a lot of heart. You actually feel for Ernie here. But you also feel for Ren because she was played by Louis. But, you ALSO feel upset for Louis because he knows he f’d up. The conflicting emotions. That night, Ren is fuming after she figures everything out. Louis hides from her by hooking himself onto the back of his door. This is also a pretty popular/memorable scene. We get a micro-mini mirror talk here, as well! I love the Season 1 mirror talks honestly!!!

“Man. Tell 20 or 30 lies, and right away you’re a bad guy.”

Ren discovers where he’s hiding and we get a line that’s not exactly great, but was used on a lot of Disney Channel commercials back in the day. (“What are you doing back there?”/ “...Just hanging out.”) But a line I do like is when Ren asks “HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SHOW MY FACE IN SCHOOL AGAIN, HUH?!” and Louis dryly responds “May I suggest plastic surgery?”

After talking through the situation (the cover image of this post) we find out that Louis ended up trading in the Roaring Drycon card for money to get Ren the necklace she was looking at for her birthday. Awww. Ren loves it but hates the idea that he got the money from his scheme. She comes to terms with her own faults though when Louis makes her realize she only hung out with Ernie for selfish reasons. Can we also talk about Ren’s Y2K rubber band, pigtail hairstyle in this scene?! I 100% wore my hair exactly like this in elementary school -- with blue bands and everything, because I saw Ren Stevens wear her hair like that. Miranda Sanchez rocked this look too. Why was this style ever a thing? lol. Who came up with all of these crazy Early 2000s looks?!

In the end, she turns around and gives Ernie the necklace. Apologizing & saying “This belongs to you.” Really??? WHAT A WASTE. At least keep the free necklace, Ren! Ernie and Ren makeup and he asks for a friend-to-friend hug. It’s kinda nice for a split second, but then we see his friends pop up and snap a photo of them ~embracing.~

AGAIN WITH THE TONGUE THING! What a creeper. x

This was a bit of a slow episode in retrospect. It’s super clear in my memory because Disney usually beats the first few episodes of a series into the ground. It’s a pretty safe and predictable plotline. Not a horrible episode, but definitely nothing too unbelievably special either. Not the greatest choice for a first episode, imo. Ren and Louis don’t really get to shine 100% and really flaunt that bickering sibling dynamic that the show is based on. It basically switches from Ren and Ernie sharing the screen, to Louis and Ernie sharing the screen. I mean, that sibling element is definitely there. But, you don’t really “get” that Louis and Ren are opposites always at odds. Louis just seems like a little brother who means well but messed things up for his sister, here. You also don’t really get to know anything about Louis as a character, his interest in comedy, or any of that.

There aren’t a lot of laughs, either. But to be fair, it’s the first episode!!! Much like All About Yvette, the show obviously hasn’t really hit that signature Even Stevens stride! So, taking that into consideration.. It’s pretty solid and entertaining enough. I was going to rank it higher for the mere fact that it was the first episode to air and it isn’t totally bad, lol. But, I think I’m okay placing it here. Something else that’s a little “off” is that it’s missing that signature swing-jazz style music throughout the episode that’s so prevalent in others down the line. It uses mostly generic, quirky sitcom music. Another sign that it hasn’t found its place as a show just yet.

This episode actually recently aired on Disney for their “Firsts on the First” marathon! They aired the first episodes of some of their most popular shows over the years to celebrate the New Year. Did anyone catch it? I did! I was actually home sick that night and it made my day so much better to see baby Shia’s face back on my television, honestly.

Thanks for reading! How do you feel about this being the first episode ever? Chime in below as always.

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