#literally four people had major hands in making it and they listed three
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All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 11
We learn more about Harri and Addison makes a brief appearance. She’s dumb, your honor.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10
***
Eddie put down his phone and buried his head in his hands. What the hell was he supposed to do with that information anyway? That the three major relationships that Steve had been in were catastrophic failures where his partner cheated on him. Swearing off women after Addison, according to Jeff. And then swearing off men after...what was it Edie said his name was? Mick? Simon? Dick? Well, he certainly was that.
He snapped his fingers. Andy! That’s what the asshole’s name was. Fuck. Steve deserved someone like Jay was to Eddie. Someone to be his partner to take care of him. Edie shouldn’t have had to take care of her dad. That shouldn’t have been her job. She was still a kid. And she had that ripped away from her because Steve didn’t find someone who loved him as much as he deserved to be loved.
Because despite their history, Eddie still believed that. Yes, Steve had hurt him, but he didn’t deserve to be relegated to a lifetime of loneliness just because he didn’t choose Eddie.
Jay was a bright soul. Happy and carefree in ways that Eddie couldn’t even fathom after Vecna and hell literally tearing his hometown apart. He taught Eddie how to enjoy life again and they brought Harri into this world. He was so grateful that he got the time he had with Jay. He missed that vibrant soul.
There were now only three people in the whole world who knew how Harri was brought into this world. It used to be four before Jay died. Eddie, the surrogate herself, and the surrogate’s husband. Well, boyfriend at the time. Eddie got up and opened his safe. He pulled out an envelope that held a small key.
He took out the key, hefting it in his hand. He walked to his bedroom and threw back the rug to reveal a trap door in the floor. He used the key to unlock the trapdoor and opened it up to reveal a small wooden box which held a small puzzle looking piece. He set the box aside and got up to go to his studio.
He slotted the piece in the wall behind their gold record for the song “Run Boy Run” and out popped another safe. He put in the combination 03-27-86 and it hissed from the air entering the safe for the first time since he installed the labyrinth of secret hiding places. The builders thought he was nuts, Eddie insisted and it was built to how he wanted it.
He had a secret to keep and he fully intended to keep it until his dying day. He would of course tell Harri when he turned twenty-one as per the agreement but that was the only time it would be told. To anyone.
He pulled out the large manila envelope and sat down on the couch. Inside was Harri’s birth certificate with the mother listed as Annie Souris. It was a little joke they made because souris was mouse in French so it was Annie Mouse=anonymous.
The paparazzi had tried to take photos of the surrogate on numerous occasions but they always made sure she was covered. Especially her hair and face. Because there were very few people in the country that wouldn’t recognize the face of ace reporter and investigative journalist, Nancy Wheeler.
She kept her maiden name, which Jonathan had been okay with provided their kids took on his last name. Which Nancy had agreed to before the surrogacy thinking it wouldn’t matter. But the only way Jonathan was going to be okay with her bearing someone else’s kid, they had to try for one themselves.
They would give it a year after Harri was born and then try for three years. If it didn’t take by then, Jonathan would agree it wasn’t in the cards for them and be okay with no kids. Two years after Harri was born Lillian Byers came into this world in a hospital in Germany.
He didn’t know the story behind the name until Edie told him, and he thought it added a layer of cute that hadn’t been there before.
Then Eddie pulled out the only picture of Harri in Nancy’s arms they had ever taken. Nancy looked exhausted but proud. And Jonathan was by her side, stroking her hair.
Jay was on the other side looking down at their baby with absolute heart-eyes. Eddie was the one that had taken the picture so he wasn’t in it, but god he loved that picture.
He carefully put everything back and settled back on the sofa, a picture of Jay holding Harri for the first time and the love that just poured out his husband in his hand.
They had hoped that with Nancy looking like enough like Eddie that they would get a kid that would have both their traits as they would have used Jay’s sperm.
Only to be devastated to learn that Jay was shooting blanks. They had briefly thought about not using Nancy and finding another surrogate but the doctors said it could be another year before they found someone suitable. So Nancy was it. It was why Harri looked so much like Eddie. The poor kid had been blasted from both sides of gene pool.
There was a knock on the door and Eddie looked up to see Harri standing there.
“You okay?” he asked as he came into the room to sit next to Eddie.
Eddie nodded. “I was just talking to Dustin today and it made me realize how lucky I was to found have found Papa.”
Harri nodded. “Is this about Mr Harrington? About what Miss Thing–I mean Edie said about his last boyfriend cheating on him?”
Eddie sighed. Harri got his smarts from Nancy, no doubt about that. “Yeah. I don’t know about his other partners, but the three major ones I know of all cheated on him.”
Harri’s eyes went wide. “All of them?”
Eddie nodded. “And while he was out there struggling to find someone who loved him as much he loved them, I lucked out with Papa.” Tears slid down his cheeks. “And it’s not fair. Yeah, I’ve been angry at Steve for a long time, but everyone deserves love. Him most of all. And to think that he never found that? Hurts, you know?”
Harri hugged him tight. “We were so lucky with Papa. I guess I never thought about how lucky.”
Eddie nodded. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a good dad since Papa died.”
Harri shook his head. “No, Dad. I’m the one that fucked up, not you.”
“If I had been there for you...” Eddie whispered. “I’m so sorry, Harri.”
Harri squeezed his dad tight. “You were doing your best in a bad situation. I’m the one that refused to go to therapy. I was the one that turned to alcohol at fifteen. I was the one that took your car for a joyride, too drunk to even see.”
Eddie hugged his son tightly. “But I should have seen how badly his death had affected you. But I was so deep into fog of my own grief that I didn’t see yours.”
Harri clung to his dad. “I’m sorry, too. I know the first twenty years of your life wasn’t easy and then I had to go make the last five even harder than that.”
“You’re the only reason I’m still alive, kiddo,” Eddie promised. “If I didn’t have you I’m not sure I wouldn’t have gone to darker places then you did.”
“So does this mean I get to drive again?” Harri asked with a grin.
Eddie pushed him off the sofa and he landed on the floor with a thump. “Nice try, kid.”
Harri laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Sober for a year was the deal.”
“Damn right it was,” Eddie said. “It’s my way of ensuring you don’t get back off track.”
Harri smirked. “Yeah, because against what literally everyone else was telling you, you chose not to call the cops.”
Eddie nodded. “It would have been better for my career, sure. But I would have lost your trust and that was something I wasn’t willing to lose.”
“And everyone says Papa was the smart one,” Harri teased.
Eddie tossed a throw pillow at him. “There are more than one kind of intelligence. Emotional intelligence, street smarts, battle strategy verse battle tactics, math verses history. There are all kinds.”
“Like what Edie was saying about her dad,” Harri said thoughtfully. “About how everyone thought he was dumb.”
Eddie nodded. “He was surrounded by literal geniuses and he still managed to see things they didn’t. Got a good head for business if that tech company of his is any indication. And he was too good at knowing when something was wrong, or upsetting you.”
Harri flopped down next to him on the couch and bumped his shoulder. “So are you.” He stopped him when Eddie started to argue. “That’s how you knew where to find me when I went off the rails.”
Eddie pursed his lips and then nodded. “We’ll make it together. Just you wait and see.”
Harri smiled back. “I know we will, Dad. I know.”
*
Steve was in his office when he got the notification of a visitor without an appointment. He frowned. He didn’t want to deal with anyone today, he was in a good mood and uninvited guests tended to ruin that, so hit the red button, signaling to Vanessa that he was busy.
Only for the door to slam open anyway with Vanessa right on this person’s heels.
Steve narrowed his eyes and immediately signed to her to call security.
“Still making wild gestures like a child, Steven,” the woman sneered.
Steve glared at her and then rolled his shoulders as if he was preparing for a fight. Which considering who it was, it wasn’t hyperbole.
He looked her up and down and decided she had really come up in the world since the last time he saw her. She had slimmed down and wore designer clothes. She looked like she had just walked out a fashion magazine.
“Addison Reed,” he bit out, still signing to Vanessa as he talked. “You’re violating your restraining order.”
The woman sneered again. “I go by Didi Patrick now.”
Steve went stock-still, except his hands, so that Vanessa could understand what was going on. “Doesn’t matter what fucking loser decided to make you an honest woman, you are still in violation of the law.”
Didi’s face twisted in rage. “I’m here for what is rightfully mine.”
Steve threw his head back and laughed. “Addison, you don’t get a dime of any of this.” He waved his hand at his office. “All this was after our divorce and even if it wasn’t you still wouldn’t get a cent because you cheated on me.”
He stood up and walked to the front of his desk and leaned on the edge of it. He smiled at her and tucked his hair behind his ear, showing off the hearing aid.
“Even with my parents hiring the best attorney in the state for you, still couldn’t change the fact that trust funds and inheritance aren’t considered shared and that you cheated on me. Plus, I hate to break it to you, alimony is only until you marry someone else. Which...” He waved a hand at her and cocked his head.
Her face was an ugly mask of rage and disgust. “You think you’re so smart, Steven, but you didn’t even realize that I’d been trying to get pregnant from the moment we met. Just you wait, all this will be mine and you’ll be in the gutter where you belong.”
Steve laughed again. “No, I knew, and I didn’t care, I wanted kids, Addison. I’ve always wanted kids. You just made the mistake of thinking that I would stay with you for the kid. But you made a classic blunder, babe. I have seen what happens when parents are too unhappy to divorce for ‘the kids’.” His whole body hummed with the thrill of it. He hadn’t thought he missed being in the thick of battle, but maybe this was why he was so good at business.
“Also, I didn’t used my trust fund for this. I still have it. Although it’s a lot closer to twenty million dollars by now. And that’s not including Edie’s trust fund which has about five million in it.”
“Her name is Edith,” Didi bit out.
Steve stuck out his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Nope, I’m pretty sure you don’t to decide that anymore. She’s almost eighteen now and hell, most of her friends don’t even call her Edie. They call her Miss Thing. Putting her even farther from your influence.”
He got up and looked over her shoulder. He nodded and then said to her. “I have more money than just this company and the trust funds. You have to be racking your brain where I got the money to start my own business. So I’ll tell you.”
Steve got close to her ear, his hands finally still and whispered, “Government hush money.”
Her eyes went wide as her mind filled in the blanks with all sorts of terrible things that Steve could have been involved with that would have caused the US government to pay him enough to start S&D Technologies.
Didi gulped, but before she could even open her mouth, she was being roughly grabbed from behind. She continued to scream obscenities and threats against him as she was hauled out by security to the waiting arms of the police.
***
A/N: I just want to clear up a couple of things because I don’t think they’re important enough to clarify in the story but that people might have questions about them anyway.
First, Jonathan. Nancy was free to do whatever she wanted, but she had to take into consideration what Jonathan would feel if she told him no kids and then was a surrogate for Eddie. What message that would send their relationship. So trying for A kid of their own was the compromise.
And then the hush money. Dustin and Steve went in on the business 50/50 with both of their money that they got from the mall incident. Thanks to the Upside Down, Steve was wealthier than his parents by the time he met Addison, he just didn’t flaunt it.
***
Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Epilogue
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Deeper Dive on Mike and his Gay Feelings
To give context to Mike’s s3 behavior first:
Like I said in my first deep dive on Mike, at the snowball he realizes he feels romantically towards Will and begins his “I don’t like like Will, I’m normal 😃” phase. Normal for him means being heteronormative. Mike thinks acting like a smartass, only spending time making out with your girlfriend, and not wanting to play d&d is what normal teenagers do. This is because of the influence both Ted and Steve had on him in s1. Y’all forget that Steve did literally everything I just listed when he was with Nancy and Ted makes subtle, but homophobic comments ab Will and Mike throughout the show. It makes sense that Mike thinks acting like a douchebag is what’s normal people do because that’s literally all he’s ever learned.
MAJOR MF EDIT OMG: I'm so angry with myself. After this has been up for a few weeks now AND I have reread this post at least three dozen times to make sure my message came across exactly how I wanted it to, I've just realized I didn't clarify Mike didn't know he wasn't romantically into El. Mike doesn't realize he's not romantically in love with El until 3x6. Before, he was confusing his platonic feelings for romantic ones. pls future readers know that whenever I discuss his feelings ab El before the cabin scene he isn't aware that his feelings for her are not romantic. He's not completely using El as a way to repress his gay feelings for Will, he genuinely thinks he like likes her because of his desire to be heteronormal/like girls. This post disproves the bi mike theory and mileven--just casually killing two birds with one stone lol (except bi mike is a national treasure)
Alright, *cracks neck and knuckles* let’s get into s3.
3x1 right off the bat lets us know mileven isn’t healthy. The first scene of these two is them making out, El puts her hands on him, he takes them off, he starts being goofy and sings the song that’s playing, and El doesn’t like it so she shuts him up by kissing him. Ok so Mike doesn’t like getting touched by El romantically…cool cool. This also gives us our first hint at how Mike and El are not compatible— he likes being silly and singing along to songs and she doesn’t. Just one of the ways we’re shown they don’t have similar interests.
After Hop busts them making out, Mike leaves and mileven has a brief lil convo over walkies. This talk shows us they are not equally emotionally invested in their relationship. El lovingly says “I miss you”, he replies “yeah. Me too”. He has annoyance in his voice--like he just wants to get off the walkie. El doesn’t pick up on it, but it’s clear as day from our pov. What’s really odd, though, is Mike not telling El about going to the movies with lumax and Will. Does this mean he’s never mentioned all the other times too?? Why doesn’t he tell her if it’s just the four of them hanging out?? Well...if he’s not telling El now its safe to assume he hasn’t before. Mike never telling her ab the hangouts implies he feels guilty for having more fun at the movies with Will than making out with her. He doesn’t want El to know he dislikes spending all their time together kissing, so he just lets her assume he’s sadly going home. El is clearly more emotionally invested with this relationship and genuinely has lovey feelings for Mike, but he only feels platonically towards El, even after they start dating.
Mike arrives at the mall where he meets lumax and Will to go to the movies. Lucas says three things that are important: 1) Mike’s late again 2) makes fun of mileven for only making out 3) calls these hangouts romantic time with Max. First gonna dissect the last thing I listed because Lucas basically calling it a double date lets us know the tone of these hangouts. They’re romantic in nature, it’s not just four friends hanging out. If lumax thinks it’s a double date...and Will wants it to be a double date...then Mike also senses it’s a double date. Another reason why he doesn’t tell El about them. Second, Lucas (and later Robin) mentions this isn’t the first one. The four of them have done this MULTIPLE TIMES. Mike hasn’t been on a romantic date with El btw, he’s literally only ever shown on one with Will. Like if the writers wanted us to believe mileven is emotionally connected and romantic, then they would’ve made a different opening milkvan scene. Lastly, Lucas makes fun of him for only making out with El. This is really important because it tells us that the characters in stranger things notice this relationship isn’t healthy!!!
*milkvans speaking* But El is his first gf ofc they’re going to make out all the time! no. incorrect. wrong answer. lumax and duzie (idk is that what they’re callied lol) are great examples of how that ain’t true. Max is Lucas’s first gf and even he gets that it’s weird to want to ONLY make out. Suzie is also Dustin’s first girlfriend and they bond over The Never-Ending Story, not swapping spit.
When Mike replies with “Yeah it’s so funny I want to spend romantic time with my girlfriend” it got me thinking…does Mike think this is how dating is supposed to be?? And yeah, he does!!! He doesn’t understand how to build a deeper romantic relationship with El because he doesn't know his feelings for her are platonic. Mike’s just doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do. It proves to himself and others that he’s normal by forcing himself and El to make out (yes I said he’s forcing el I’ll discuss that later). Hopper is the second person to talk ab how mileven only making out is weird. It doesn’t help that Mike acts like an ass towards him, but he acts like that towards Hop because it’s a part of his new douchebag facade. Just gonna throw byler moments here: Mike gets defensive when Will agrees with Lucas, byler hardcore blushing at the movies, Mike staring at Will for roughly 24s while Will is having his war flashbacks, and both of them looking at each other’s lips multiple times in less than 6s.
3x2 Mike lies to El ab his nana and their very fragile relationship begins to untwine. Now I have to say this, Mike 100% wasn’t forced to lie and make up an excuse on why they couldn’t hang out. Hopper threatened to not let him see El again, but he covered the lie up by telling her Mike’s nana was fine. We never did get to hear what hop told mike, but Hopper doing this means he would’ve been ok with Mike coming over the next day as long as he didn’t act like a smartass and kept the door open three inches. Mike chose to add to the nana lie. Even after El asks him straight up if he’s lying he says no. Why would he continue to lie to her when he clearly had a way out?? To put it frankly: Mike didn’t want to spend his afternoon making out with El when he doesn’t even enjoy doing it. Ik…crazy…but Mike knows he’s shit at lying, so he heads to the mall with Lucas and Will to buy her an apology gift.
The whole present/mall situation is the biggest clue to how Mike and El just aren’t compatible from s3. He knows he needs to apologize, but he doesn’t know what she would like because he doesn’t know literally anything ab her interests. The only present he could find for her was too expensive (and Will coded), so he just ended up not buying anything for her. Dude what?! She would’ve been happy with literally anything. Ffs she says in this episode “how do I know if I like something”. The elmax scenes just further prove milkvan doesn’t work because it is quite literally “El being really happy because there’s more to life than stupid boys”.
I’m trying not to add the subtext byler clues to this but I just think this one’s funny: Lucas sprays a purple (mileven color) perfume on Mike, and he makes a super disgusted face lol
El breaks up with mike when her and max see the guys at the mall. I love this for her honestly because this was her first step into being independent and finally living the way she wants to live!!! Back to Mike and his gay feelings— from this point moving forward, Mike thinks they’re broken up. Ik you might think this is a weird thing to say cause like…no dipshit sherlock…but trust me you have to keep this in mind.
THE MOTHERF**KING RAIN SCENE
I was going to do a whole other post on the rain scene because it’s so much, but I figured I should just keep it in here because this is a deep dive on ALL of s3 mike and his gay feelings. You have been warned 😶🌫️
This scene and what we’ve seen leading up from Mike’s pov is A LOT different than Will’s.
At the snowball Mike realized he like likes Will due to his jealous insecurity that someday Will’s going to replace him. His new personality is the result of this realization. And Mike’s personality change leads to him pushing Will away emotionally. Him making excuses on why they can’t play (Lucas is down to, Mike is the one that’s making all the excuses) and openly making fun of Will during the game (Lucas actually never makes fun of Will, he just laughs at mikes joke) are all a part of the facade.
Here’s the thing: Mike doesn’t know a) Will’s gay and doesn’t want to be normal b) Will like likes him back. He genuinely believes that their special friendship, the extremely deep and emotional bond they share, is all in his head— all just a childish, one-sided crush. Mike literally couldn’t tell Will was upset all summer because of his own insecurities in their friendship blinding him, not because he was so invested in menthol cigarettes.
Will snapping (rightfully so) and leaving the basement finally gets Mike to pay attention to the other’s feelings. He thinks Will’s just upset over him not wanting to play d&d, but getting called out for being flakey and not caring ab the party makes Mike realize he’s noticed everything. You can see in Mike’s face he’s gonna defend his shitty behavior (he always plays defense in fights). But when Will throws in the “you’re destroying everything and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!” Mike loses it.
Now the miscommunication comes in clutch. Both of them interpret the bolded sentence in different ways. Mike’s version: You’re destroying everything because you like making out with a girl who’s literally dumb. Will’s version: Your destroying everything because you like girls.
And Mikes response, “El’s not stupid! It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”, was also interpreted two different ways. Mike’s: El is smart, and it’s not my fault you haven’t grown up yet. Will’s: El is smart, and it’s not my fault you’re gay.
Yeahhhh the duffers were lying their asses off back when they said it’s not supposed to be interpreted as calling Will out. Everyone INCLUDING WILL heard it that way. It was written deliberately as “you don’t like girls” for a reason. Why else would Will get so upset when he’s canonically gay? We can all safely assume they lied because they didn’t want Will’s sexuality to be known yet.
OMG I JUST HAD A REALIZATION OF MY OWN. Idk where to put it so here it is: Mike’s whole thought processing with his crush on Will being childish is because he thinks Will is straight and still in the prepubescent mindset of “no romantic feelings exist I’m pure of mind girls have cooties 😇”. And at the snowball he sees a glimpse of Will being out of the child mindset, hence Mike begins wanting to grow-up. Anyways…
Mike can tell from the expression on Will’s face he’s gone too far. Now he’s not defensive because he can now see that he was unintentionally hurting Will all summer, and that his remark was below the belt (he doesn’t actually get the real reason why Will is upset, he just thinks he does because of miscommunication).
Mike’s rationalization for his shitty behavior is what he realized he’s afraid of back at the snowball. That Will is going to get a gf someday, and the two of them aren’t going to play d&d in his basement forever. He truly believes emotionally pulling away is saving him from a hell-reality where Will loves someone else more than him. Since he thinks all his questions are just facts, he thinks Will also believes this. Up until Will responds with “Yeah, I guess I did. I really did”. That completely shatters Mike’s false reality. Now knows literally every single word he’s said just made things ten times worse. All he’s thinking now is “if I don’t apologize for everything I just said, I’m actually going to lose Will”.
I’m ignoring Mike + Lucas going to the byers house and apologizing.
Wait! Before you scrutinize me for acting like this cute scene doesn’t exist, let me explain!
The fight scene takes place in the day and the boys going to the byers happens at night. Why? Idk. If you just watch it once you don’t think ab the time difference, but when you do, you unconsciously write it off as Mike waiting for the rain to stop…except it never did. The show doesn’t explain the time jump and instead acts like it didn’t happen. I’ve really tried to think of a plausible answer to Mike + Lucas waiting and this is the only one I could find: when rewatching the show for my notes on this analysis, I noticed time is nonexistent s3. Almost every scene in s3 has a clock, but time in scenes and the order of sequence don’t match up. The time inconsistency within s3 is a whole other can of worms I am not smart enough to tackle, and I’m not going to act like I understand why the duffers chose to make the destruction of caste byers + this byler scene at night. Also ignoring it because if you take it out nothing changes in their dynamic from mike’s pov. He still wants to properly apologize, but he doesn’t because a) mind flayer is back and b) last byler scene happens but we’ll get to that later.
Other things from 3x3: El can’t tell if Mike’s a good kisser. This means she doesn’t really enjoy making out with him (she def thinks his kissing is a 3/10), but doesn’t want to admit it because she thinks Mike enjoys it. Like I get her not knowing what types of clothes she wants to wear, but her body is telling her she’s not that into it. Also means that Mike is the one in control of their relationship if she’s just kissing him because she thinks that’s what he wants. The sexist convo between Lucas and Mike highlights Mike’s internalized homophobia and inner turmoil ab not being normal. He claims, “women act on emotion, no logic”, but it’s just him projecting-- he obviously doesn’t believe this. Mike saying this means he’s bullied himself for having a very emotional friendship with Will (being girly/emotional=gay=not normal). And Mike is definitely lying ab not knowing why El is mad at him, and him acting clueless is just a part of the persona. Ffs the whole reason she caught him is because they couldn’t find an apology gift for lying to her.
This is something I haven’t touched yet (I probably should’ve by now whoops): Mike is not against El gaining independence, he’s against El not needing him in her life anymore. He sees himself as kind of her yoda; he was the first one to gain her trust and to teach her ab life outside the lab. He thinks she needs him as a friendly mentor figure, not as a loving boyfriend. He doesn’t understand that he can’t tell her how life is supposed to be like anymore because that was their dynamic before dating. S3 she’s not fresh out the lab or new to this world; she knows enough ab life now and wants to figure out her own opinions/interests with a supportive boyfriend.
Anyways back to Mike’s internalized homophobia...
3x4 is the beginning of Mike looking at Will in a different light than he has been all summer. Will admitting he thought it was gonna be them together forever made Mike feel less insecure ab believing this too. He still thinks their friendship is on the rocks, but at least he knows now Will wanted to play d&d together forever before the fight. This episode introduces Mike’s “new” body language of subtly (not subtly) sitting/ standing weirdly close to him and way more secret glances. Sadly, he’s still trying to cling to milkvan instead of facing his insecurities.
Mike and El meet for the first time post-breakup. If you take his playful joking at face value, it’s weird and insensitive towards her. But really he just forgot for a sec that they were on bad terms. Why? idk maybe because byler got into their biggest fight ever the day before, he’s scared and stressed ab the mind flayer being back, and the party is literally grabbing stuff to capture Billy (the scariest person in the show besides Vecna). Personally, I don’t blame him for joking with El ab the dummy to kinda lighten the mood.
Mike thinks he’s gonna reel El back into a relationship by doing the exact thing that made her break up with him: by lying his ass off. Says Hopper told him to lie (no he didn’t Hopper cleared it up), she’s the most important person to him in the world (again a lie seeing as he never even apologized for the nana lie), and that Hop’s just some crazy, old man who thinks they spend too much time together (only true thing he says but weirdly enough it sounds like the weakest point). In the past El has just gone with everything Mike’s told her, so he’s shocked when she agrees with Hop on them spending too much time together. Interesting how out of all the things he says, El outwardly agrees with only the true one.....
Mike doesn’t still get that their relationship wasn’t healthy; that they can’t actually be a good couple if all they do is make out every day and don’t get to know each other. El basically saying “we’re done. I don’t want to get back together because I spied on you, heard some awful shit, and want to make my own opinions” destroys his idea of their dynamic. Before this, Mike felt in control of it (cause he was), but now she doesn’t just go along with everything he says. Now he knows El truly meant it when she dumped his ass. And ofc instead of admitting to himself she came to this conclusion on her own before the spying situation, he chooses this delusional ass mindset: he’s been spied on by elmax, meaning El trusts Max more than Mike, meaning Max somehow brainwashed El into dumping him and are now conspiring against him.
I feel like I shouldn’t have to add this, but I will just so that Ik me and whoever is reading this are on the same page: Mike cares for El--platonically, like a sister. Ofc he didn’t think twice ab grabbing the metal pipe and whacking Billy with it. It wasn’t a romantic gesture it was literally him saving El from murder.
3x5 begins the “conspiring against me” ordeal. To be blunt, Mike gaslit himself into believing Max and El are conspiring against him and is unsuccessfully trying to gaslight everyone else too. For Mike, admitting to anyone (including himself) that their relationship wasn’t working confirms his insecurity ab not being normal. He’s fully choosing to believe two of his best friends are plotting against him rather than face the reality of mileven being over because it wasn’t good for either of them.
THE HOSPITAL SCENES
Mike thinks mileven is done. El has clearly said multiple times now she’s done and he’s accepted it. If Lucas didn’t tell him it was an olive branch then Mike wouldn’t have even thought twice ab the vending machine exchange. And even after Lucas explains it’s a sign El wants him back without explicitly saying “she wants you back”, Mike still thinks it’s an olive branch to get back on good terms and to go back as besties!! Mike offering her m&m’s wasn’t a way to show her he’s still boyfriend material, it was to show he’s still best friend material!! And because Mike is oblivious, he doesn’t notice El blushing and smiling like a freaking idiot!! Rewatch the scene, he literally blinks in her direction twice he ain’t noticing shit!!
3x6 is the climax of Mike’s s3 arc. He’s still desperately trying to convince everyone he’s being conspired against by elmax, but now Max is done with his bullshit and calls him out for being controlling. He knows they aren’t getting together, but he wants everyone to believe the breakup’s not his fault (he’s normal he liked dating El) it’s because of Max. He doesn’t see his behavior as controlling because he views himself as El’s life guru who makes decisions for her; it’s why he thinks the evil, conspiring Max is framing him to be sexist. He’s already getting defensive (he’s so shit at explaining himself omg) but Nancy joining in just makes it worse. He knows what Nancy and Max are telling him is true-- that El isn’t stupid and knows her limits. But Mike literally just got back into her good graces, they’re friends again and he doesn’t want El to kill herself looking for a monster they aren’t prepared for.
His whole speech is literally what I’ve just explained except he did a worse job at explaining himself lmfaoooo.
Every single person heard him loud and clear say he loves El, and every single one of them thinks Mike is in love with her now. Mike looks stunned that he even said that out loud and he knows no one interpreted it as a platonic Ily. This is the moment Mike is done wanting to date El and is done ACTING NORMAL!!!! Hearing himself say that made him realize he can’t continue dating her and that he doesn’t even want to; Mike doesn’t want to be in a relationship where he's not in love!!! He’s accepted that he doesn’t want to date El (and probably all girls)!!! HE’S OKAY WITH BEING NOT NORMAL!!!!
When he sees El walk out of the bathroom, he looks scared. He didn’t want El to hear him say it. Mike can act as straight as he wants but saying I Love You is too far. He knows it’s really really hurtful to lie to her about this and that if she heard the accidental ily he wouldn’t be able to back out of it. That’s why he acts like nothing happened afterward.
3x7 reaffirms Mike doesn’t want to date El anymore with the grocery store scene. When he says, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something”, he’s not going to say “I love you”. We all know that because he didn’t say it back at the cabin, can’t even say “Love Makes You Crazy” and ffs s4 happens. What he’s been meaning to tell her is an apology for his shitty behavior towards elmax, that he’s okay with them not dating, and that he’s happy for El’s new friendship.
Mike says he was jealous of El and Max hanging out all the time. Now I don’t think he realizes this, but he wasn’t jealous of them spending time together—he was jealous that El wasn’t listening to Mike anymore and was using Max as her life yoda now. You may think I’m putting words into his mouth, but if you rewatch the first episode you’ll remember he was in a hurry to leave El’s and half-heartedly said he missed her... not very clingy of him is it. And elmax was essentially Max telling her she doesn’t have to listen to anyone and to explore herself, something Mike never did for El.
Mike saying “I just, like, I’ve never felt like this, you know, with anyone before” isn’t about romantic love it’s about platonic love! He hasn’t gone through losing any of his friends like he has with El. He’s never had to mentor or guide any of his friends except El. Will is someone he romantically loves, and Mike’s unique love for him is very different from his unique love for her. His love for her is special and only something he’s ever felt for specifically her. And Mike understands his feelings for her, hence bringing up love makes you crazy. And once again, Mike wants to slap himself for speaking without thinking. There’s not a doubt in my mind he 150% didn’t think about who he was talking ab love with when he said that. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea, like worst case scenario for Mike is El thinking he is in love with her and wants to get back together. That’s why he goes out of his way to NOT say the L word.
I just wanna say thank you to every person that read this entire post I’ve spent days working on this and it means a lot <33333
3x8 THE BIG KAHUNA MOVING DAYYYYYY
By this point in the show, Mike has grown a hell of a lot. He’s done wanting to be in a relationship with El, he’s done acting like a douchebag, and he’s finally comfortable admitting to himself he’s not normal. Byler has been on the back burner since 3x3, but Mike has felt distant from Will and insecure in their friendship since the fight. He never really got a chance to apologize with everything going on, and now that Will’s leaving for Lenora it seems like their friendship is never going to be the same...
until...
“Yeah, but, what if you wanna join another party?”
This is the moment. THE MF MOMENT Mike knows he’s in love with Will!! His confident “not possible” confirms to Mike that even after all the shit they’d been through-- Mike being left behind at the snowball, pushing Will away all summer, the rain fight, and not speaking to each other after the mind flayer’s return--they are still their own separate team. It basically takes away the insecurities he had about their relationship. This simple “not possible” tells him Will still wants to play d&d together forever, and that the fight they had was just a fight... one they could come back from. It lets Mike know he’s never been crazy or stupid for thinking their bond was different, and it lets Mike think he has a chance with Will.
Mike sees El struggling for the teddy bear and decides to help. He’s still definitely thinking about Will, you can tell because of his body language. He’s super smiley, he’s fidgeting out all his excess happy adrenaline (I bet he wanted to take a victory lap after talking with Will), and even though he’s talking to El he can’t help but bring up Will in the conversation. He is so happy and care-free that he starts talking about how excited he is to open presents with Will and El on Christmas Day; this brings Mike back down to earth because he gets embarrassed for sounding like a kid and thinks he just weirded El out with his awkward ass.
He thinks El is leaving the room as he silently cringes at himself, but then she turns around and starts talking about the cabin scene. Mike knows where this is going, so he immediately starts acting clueless and like he didn’t say ily super loud. He asks “What did I say exactly” because he wants to make sure she didn’t hear ily...because that’s what he assumed when it originally happened (rewatch the cabin scene it was meant to look that way). He’s super fucking confused on why El’s walking fast towards him and suddenly in his face and--
“I love you too” *aggressively starts kissing him*
He’s in shock BIG TIME. What you all are witnessing is Mike’s worst-case scenario come true and his reaction to what was possibly the worst thing that could happen in that moment. He’s not going to kiss back, he’s still processing what the hell just happened. He’s looking at El, just standing there with her suctioned on his face, with eyes wide and a face silently screaming “What the HELL just happened?!”
After the kiss and El leaves is when it sets in.
Mike is screwed. He doesn’t have a good excuse to break up with her. He can’t say he doesn’t love her because El just said she heard him say it back at the cabin. And he couldn’t possibly explain he’s in love with Will, there’s just no way (even though she doesn’t know anything about society’s problem with queer folk)! So, he promises himself this, he’s not going to lead her on. He’s not going to say ily and he’s just going to treat her like a friend until she breaks up with him again.
The time finally comes for the Byers to leave and Mike’s really fucking sad. His bff of 5 years old/crush is going away--possibly forever. He can’t play with Will in his basement like they used to, he can’t see or talk to Will everyday like he has his whole life. Mike was just reassured by Will that their relationship will never change, after having lost him this whole season, but now it hits him he doesn’t know that for sure. He’s losing Will and El again, but this time he can’t save them.
Then we get literally the most heartbreaking montage of Hopper’s letter fitting into each character’s emotions, and ofc he says “I don’t want things to change” as Mike leaves the Byer’s empty home and “maybe that’s why I came here, to stop the change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were.” as he cries in his mom’s arms.
Mike begins his “I’m in love with Will, but I have to act like I’m not because El loves me and he doesn’t 😃” phase that plays throughout s4. But it takes a turn when he starts noticing some sus behavior from Will and realizes maybe Will does like like him. but that’s for another byler analysis.
#byler#byler proof#byler theory#everything points to byler#byler nation#byler brainrot#byler for the win#byler is real#will byers#mike wheeler#mike wheeler is gay#mike wheeler is queer#mike wheeler i know what you are#mike x will#will x mike#stranger things#st3 rewatch
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returning the favor!!! do YOU have any particular thoughts on vlr u feel like sharing atm?
TIME FOR MY KYLEPOST
i dont think about VLR in a vacuum nearly as much as i do 999 but i most certainly have thoughts
every aspect of the person kyle is was calculated decades before his birth. bred like a pedigree dog every aspect of his environment constructed around him like a lab rat, literally hand-designed and grown in a lab for this purpose. his entire life is a step by step list, painstakingly behaviourally conditioned to end up full of a fester of resentment and anger and loneliness and despair in such a way to ensure he is willing to kill and die on what he believes to be (and what still is) his own emotion and conviction and turmoil, but it is a spur of the moment breakdown response the people he is lashing back against in rebellion set up for him. they made him like this very, very deliberately, they had to raise or rather fail to raise him in a way to make sure he'd become this person Sigma already met. They make sure he is someone who will hate this.
Sigma does this by not raising him at all but Akane, with this purpose in mind decades before he would ever exist, does this by showing up most of the way into Kyle's life giving him the first meaning he ever felt in his life and then taking it away again.
She lived with him for years. she had to be what she was for him, was there truth in it? does akane love him? does she care for him at all? is he nothing more than a tool to her? does the answer to that matter at all? not really. kyle believes she did. snake voice whether the devil actually exists holds no relevance. and kyle loves HER. as much as he can try not to, he does.
When he finds out what the ab project is actually for, what he's been working towards the last four years of his life he tries to blow up the entire facility and all of them in it. this is just a major step in what they have designed him to do. all his acts of rebellion and defiance are, unknown to him, just more preset points to check off on their list.
His own route he remembers who his father is who his mother is and his immediate responses are to commit murder and then pull a suicide bomber gambit test, again
well what would he have done if his unknowing father (cause like. sigma doesnt fucking remember bro) really did save him at the expense of his own and Phi's lives? what if he was met with proof he was loved, that his life did matter to sigma, and then was as a direct result left entirely alone having killed three of the 9 people himself? was kyle so certain this would never happen, he really just wanted vindication in his belief he is unloved to define the moment of his death? was that the real point?
And this is the moment he ultimately deliberately and most directly helps their plan. he does it anyway, he tells Sigma the code, delivers the message. he's disgusted by sigma and akanes plan enough he tried to blow up the fucking facility that encompassed the only world he ever knew and everyone in it but in the end at the point where he has to carry out his critical instructions, what he could have made a final defiance after Sigma saved Phi over him (and where Luna in parallel quite possibly couldn't ever refuse to do by nature), a chance he didn't know could have been an actual defiance they really didn't want him to do, he goes through with their instruction anyway. Im not sure what that says about him.
And what was it they told him about this moment? to lead him to organically destructively act it out and then recognise it as the point he was meant to deliver that message?
he Only exists and would only ever have existed for a plan he doesn't fucking care about. even if he may or may not agree with the noble greater good moral justification framing why would he care. he has no way to conceptualise it. it does nothing for him. he cares about what he has, but what he has is two people that lament his reality ever existed and he rejects the only chance for real solidarity he might have in Luna.
for someone who knew only one other human for most of his life, and barely saw that human, Kyle places an awful lot of emphasis on "humanity", it’s a word he uses several times over as synonymous with morality and compassion and rightness.
for all he shuns and for lack of a better word dehumanises Luna how different are they really? They're both designed and sculpted. They both had their thought patterns determined and programmed to behave in a certain consistent way. All for the same sole purpose. Creating just a chance at a superior, perfect, far more valuable world where they could never exist to be a part of. Where there was no need for them. They don't even have their own faces.
The way he talks about junpei and what akane told him about junpei the hatred of a stranger he's never met that she values far more than himself
i NEED him to talk to tenmyouji knowing who he is with full context for them both, there's so much ground there the futile grasps for their own agency the anger the cannot stop loving akane kurashiki no matter how much they Try to the you are a faceless representation of everything she cared about more than she cared for me. while she was the most important person in my world i realised there was someone more important than me in hers. the making meaning in a world and a life others have discarded as hopeless and not worth saving and just a stepping stone to a hypothetical you'll never comprehend and then finally then will she be satisfied? will it be worth it then? why can't it be worth it now, here. (why can't they matter enough to her for that.)
i fucking wish he was in ztd dude shifting him into a context he was never meant to exist in and seeing what he does with that and him getting to interact with the sigma that is Actually his father and an akane that has never met him and whose top priority is avoiding letting this world become one where he is ever born
#junpei you hearing this shit!?#kyle klim#🌕it was what i had now that i wanted.🌔#<- starting a kyle tag
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❀ After Last Night. (I Think I’m in Love With You.) ❀
❀ Armin Arlert x Reader ❀
Master-list: Here
Current Chapter (1): Me, Myself, and I… and Fine, Maybe, a Flower.
❀ Sypnosis:
You loved your line of work… enough. That is if you could even call it a line of work.
It paid good, and you had your best friend Connie by your side. It could be worse. And now, you had another thing to worry about… Hiding this not-so approving line of work from your new roommate, Armin. A boy who rivals your own major, more than two academic weapons.
Tensions are high, and you are always one second away from clawing out his throat. And, for some reason, the way he's so patient with you, only furthers this emotion. To say this situation was less than ideal was to put it lightly. And, unfortunately, it wasn’t in the sexy way your classmate, Historia, romanized it to be.
But, you can’t shake the thought—why the hell does he look so familiar?
❀ Genre:
Alternate Universe - College/University, Questionable Job Choices, Double Life, enemies to lovers??
❀ Content Warning:
Gun Violence, Deception, Past Sexual Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut
❀ Word count:
7.9 K Words.
College was a hassle. You decided the best way to bathe in money, figuratively and literally was this. You liked writing, it was one of your passions back in highschool, but this— this was fucking obsessive.
A part of this was your fault.. You decided to just start writing an essay assigned—months ago. But, in your defense, the professor should at least make it less than it already was, a fifteen-thousand word essay. About the current law studies students were going over this quarter.
How the hell are you supposed to make it fifteen-thousand words?! You could sum it up in four. ‘Don’t fucking kill people.’ Hell, you could sum it up in three.
You glanced at the word count, then back to your textbook. Groaning loudly, “Fuck, I should’ve stayed with Connie.” He would’ve at least helped you. And, you would’ve been in a more quiet environment. Since your roommate was so rudely blasting music in the living room. Your eyes flickered over the time, ‘6:24.’ You opened the document you saved of your teacher's syllabus. Checking the late assignments.
Dammit. Of course this was the only professor who didn’t take late work. Fuck me. The sound of your phone ringing brought your attention from the bright screen of your computer. Shuffling your hands around the bed, searching for your phone. You picked up your phone, glancing at the username.
‘Client.4’
Another groan came from your mouth, you completely forgot about how busy you were going to be today. An essay was due, and of course a client wanted to meet up. You mentally cursed yourself, this client also promised to find you a better apartment, so you couldn’t ditch out on plans—
“Y/n!”
You grabbed your pillow, and silently screamed into it. Before you quickly got up, pulling the door back. Glaring at your roommate. “What do you want?” Your hand was sassily placed on your hip.
Hitch invited herself into your room, you peaked your head out. Noticing the music only become louder— if that was possible, once you did so. You closed your door, only muffling the noise. As Hitch was currently nose deep into your pillow, inhaling the scent, she always expressed how your room smelled like vanilla, with a sweet strawberry after-smell. Whatever that meant—
You remember vividly telling her, that maybe, if she stopped smoking weed, and put a smell enhancer in her room. She could have a nice smell as well, she just gave you a dirty look. Hitch looked away from your pillow to you.
“I have a plus one.” Hitch playfully sang, wiggling her shoulders playfully. She looked down and scooped up your fluffy white dog, cuddling it. She cooed at Fluff, while you answered her question. Going back to work.
“Hitch, c'mon. You should go to bed, you’re already drunk. No more parties.” Not that it mattered, she was already sleeping on your bed. She reeked of weed and beer, the only reason she came to your room was because she was a slob. Hitch’s room was a pig's pen, and she barely cleaned it and went to class.
Hitch was the iconic hot girl, she always loved the idea of partying and invited you out often. With you mostly refusing. You could recall you went one time, but decided you would never again. She had pink hair, and a dramatic makeup look that every girl was envious of.
To be honest you loved her. In some weird, forced way.
But. Hitch was like a child, it was like you were taking care of a damn child.
Then there was your other roommate, he wasn't too horrible. He was horrible to you. You didn’t even want to name him. That’s how horrible he was.
Hitch could strongly disagree.
Hitch had the time of her life with him, and made sure you heard. You hoped it wasn’t on purpose.. Then, when they weren’t together, he was in your room, trying to get with you, or doing his homework. If he didn’t want to do it, he’d ask for help, or for you to do it altogether.
Clearly had never done anything in his life. From your perspective he was the definition of daddy’s money. Throwing a fit every time you refused his advances. Then again, he had his moments of bliss. In those situations, you did somewhat enjoy his company.
Glancing at the time again you decided it would be best to go with your client, get the money and save up for a new place. This client did say they wanted to find you a new sweep, pay for one monthly fee. Then, the rest would be up to you. He said something along the lines of, “I don’t want my princess living in such a disgusting place.”
You placed a hand on your temples. God, you hated this client.
You pulled out your phone, calling a number you favorited. Was it saved? No. But, you called them far too frequently than you’d like to admit. Especially with your line of work. The phone rang four times, before the other line picked up.
“Y/n? How’s it goin’, you enjoying your night.” His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic.
“You know damn-well what’s happening tonight, Furlan.” You groaned, glancing at Hitch. Leaning on your door. “I need you to do something for me, it’s for my education.”
“You’re still doin’ that, babe?” Furlan laughed, “What’s the point, half the people you talk to, could set you for life. There’s no need for that stupid education.”
You rolled your eyes, “I can’t do this forever, my ‘supple youth’ is short lived, so is my beauty.” You laughed to yourself, “I wouldn’t be this good at my job, more or less making this much, if I didn't look like this.”
Furlan was silent for a second, “Fine, that’s fair.” He sighed, “What’s the assignment you need me to do?”
You cringed to yourself, but said it with the utmost confidence. “A fifteen thousand word essay?..”
“Fuck me gently.”
“Hell no.” You blinked a few times, “Same price as last time?” You tapped your fingers against the door, waiting for his response.
“I’ll do it for free if you say you love me.” Furlan cooed.
“Fuck off.” You promptly ended the call, quickly sending the money to him. Money was money in your eyes, it didn’t matter how much you spent when the numbers were always piling up.
You walked to your closet, pulling out a box near the corner. This certain client always said they like the— what was it?... Oh, that’s right, cute and seductive look.
You pulled out the white fluff, and wrapped it around your body, grabbing the pink dress beneath it. You also grabbed a pearl necklace, along with some heels, something this very client also bought you.
You pulled up your phone, and checked your personal documents. Looking over the names, and clicking ‘Client 4.’ Your eyes skimmed over the long paragraphs and wording, especially looking for something. The prices.
“Additional 5k for intimate contact.”
That money would be something you could send to your parents. A small laugh escaped your lips, as you grabbed at a lingerie set. You didn’t necessarily enjoy sleeping with people, but if it was a man your age—and they were attractive. It could be a good night…
If you topped, that is.
Then again, these were men in their thirties, paying for you to be by their side. What was the word? What did people describe it as?… Sugar Babies? That sounded right.
You had no comment on how people viewed you, or your “work.” You were the one making money after all. And, it wasn’t too bad. Most of the time you were sitting next to a man, talking about their interests, or life in their youth. Then, if you’re polite enough, they'll treat you to gifts. Money was a given, I mean, they are paying for your time.
You looked back at your roommate, seeing as she fell asleep. You rolled your eyes, placing a blanket over her head, before changing into your outfit. Once you did so, you changed Hitch out of her heavy clothing. Giving her some of your pj’s to wear, and placing the blanket over her again.
Quickly spraying on a perfume you only used when you met your clients, then applying makeup. Trying to keep it subtle and classy, but since you got your nails done, it has been hard to apply any type of makeup. But, you liked them nonetheless. A simple white, coffin shaped set.
You grabbed at your keys, and dug into your drawers, pulling out a tylenol along with a water bottle. Placing it on your nightstand and turning off the lights, leaving the small lamp on your desk on, for a subtle light. Then waking out of your room, locking it behind you. Hitch was going to be asleep for a while, and you didn’t really trust your other roommate.
Walking to the main door you were greeted with your roommate, Floch. You waved to him, noticing his friends looking at you. He narrowed his eyes at you questioningly, “Damn where are you going? Isn’t this the fifth time this month? You a stripper, or something?”
You scoffed, looking away. “There's nothing wrong with strippers. Besides, if stripped didn’t exist, you wouldn’t nearly have the amount of fun you do. And, I’m meeting up with my family.” You pulled down your dress, walking towards the door.
Floch laughed, “Wearing that? Sure. What about Hitch? She came here smoked. She still looking for a fun time?” He tapped his finger against the couch, his head tilting to the side. “Or, do you want me to wait until you come back home, so you can listen?”
You scoffed, swiftly turning to him. Noticing his friends snickering. “Very funny.” You seethed, “Let’s see if the school board also finds it funny.” Your grip on your keys righted, “Fuck off, asshole.” You closed the door behind you, swiftly turning around and flipping off the individuals.
You heard a faint, “She won’t tell shit, don’t worry.” Making you groan, as you walked off. Floch was right, you wouldn’t tell anyone.
It took you some time to finally reach your car, and you almost moaned in happiness. Unlocking your car you slid in, enjoying the sleek cold of the leather compared to the warmth of your skin. Turning it on, and driving to your agreed meeting place.
You parked and were immediately greeted by a blonde individual. He had a lanky smile, handing you the wad of cash. Quickly skimming through the money, it was everything agreed on.
It was just the mere attending fee. You bent over back into your car, making sure to give the man a clear view of your panties. Then coming back up and locking it up, placing your keys into your purse. Something this said client bought for you. You made sure to remember what each client wanted from a woman, which made you sick to your stomach.
Especially this client.
At least he paid well.
He extended his arm, and you took it. Batting your eyelashes and smiling. He tugged on your arm, leading you to the event.
“Hi,” He placed his hand to the small of your back, kissing your cheek. Then to your lips, smiling at you. Pulling you close to his chest, “I got you a little something, it’s a surprise.”
You bit your lip and giggled, going in for another kiss. “Really? You don’t have to, I just love spending time with you. Nothing else.” Your hand on his arm tightened.
He started walking, leading you to the event. “And, I love spoiling you, nothing else.” You turned away, and lightly scoffed, rolling your eyes.
Men really believed anything fake, especially if it catered to their favor. “Really?! Okay! I’ll promise to be good, only for you though.” You lightly pouted, lightly pressing a finger to his nose.
You had to fake your personality with alot of your clients. They were all typical stereotypes, so you had to be a stereotypical girl to get them to pay well.
He chuckled, taking your hand and kissing it. He brought you into a hug, lightly scraping his lips over your neck. His breath fanning your neck. “I can’t wait to take you home.” You scowled, turning away. When he pulled away you smiled, and lightly giggled.
“Okay,” You shyly said, starting to whisper your last words. “Me either.”
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
You glanced at the time in your car, then to the bag in your passenger's seat. You need to change, the chance that your roommate is still up is— one hundred percent, there’s no way he’s asleep.
Maybe, Hitch? She’d be just waking up though. You stopped at a random Target, parking in front of the store, removing your white floof from your neck. You grabbed a small wad of money, and locked your car, getting glances from people that passed you by. It just made you walk even faster.
A voice made everything freeze in time. Fuck. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, grinning into your ear. “Y/n!” He sang.
You sighed, turning your head to him. “C'mon Connie, let's not do this now.”
Connie huffed, grabbing your hand and leading you to the clothing area. “Lets not what? Help you out?” You lightly scoffed, catching a glance at one of the mirrors. Noticing the marks scattered along your body.
“This client never holds back, I swear. Might as well burn my whole body.” You lightly traced the marks, Connie laughed handing you a pullover hoodie.
“Yeah, I also have a client like that.” You grabbed a pair of sweats, along with some sandals. Connie grabbed a soda, taking the clothing you picked out. “I’ll pay.”
A relieved sigh came from your mouth, as you followed the boy to the check out. A light yawn coming from you. Connie turned his head to you. “Tired?”
You lightly nodded your head, rubbing your eye lightly. “Very. I’m not very... fond of this certain client.”
Connie nodded his head, placing the items on the railing. “Let me guess, misogynistic?”
You laughed, “Not openly, but definitely internalized.”
Connie handed the lady the money, giving her a flashing smile. Making her giggle and hand him back his change, giving you a dirty look.
A slight growl came from you, but you played it off as a laugh. “Oh please, you can pay for his services. But, I don't even think you would afford it.” Connie laughed, dragging you away from the situation. Making you grumble, “I don’t know why she had to give me a look, why didn’t she give you a look?”
Connie sighed, letting you take the lead to your car. You unlocked it and opened the backseat, going in while Connie handed you the bag. You rolled down your window a tiny bit, hearing Connie’s words. “The reason she gave you a nasty look is because she was jealous.” He paused for a second, like he was thinking. “Insecure, is how some would put it.” You slipped off your dress putting on the pullover Connie had bought you. “You know Y/n, you make it hard for people to like you.” You scoffed, putting on the sweats.
“And, how’s that?!” You sounded offended.
Connie scoffed, turning his head to the store. “Dude, seriously? You just yelled at a girl, shaming her about the amount of money she makes.” You slipped on the sandals, walking back out of the car. Connie sighed, “What happened to you, Y/n? What happened to the girl I knew back in highschool.”
You leaned on the car. Mimicking Connie’s stance. “How am I supposed to know? I’m growing up, I can’t take time outta’ my day trying to understand everyone’s problems.”
Connie scoffed, looking back at you. “But, you used to make an attempt.”
A bitter laugh came from your throat, as you opened the car door. “Yeah, then everyone turned against me.”
Connie placed a hand to your cheek, placing a kiss to your forehead. “Everyone, but me, sexy.”
You laughed, taking his hand into yours. “You’re such a pick me.”
Connie shoved your face into the car, closing it behind you. “This is why even I don’t like you.” You scoffed, turning on your car and pulling out, giving a final wave to your best friend.
To be frank, all this money you made was thanks to him. He’s the one who got you into this sort of business.
Buutt~
The only reason he did it was, because he didn’t want to do this shit alone.
You made bank, so— it didn’t bother you too much. Honestly, you constantly think back to the exact conversation. At first you disagreed, and didn't want anything to do with it. But, the more Connie explained, the more intrigued you got. You even said sex was off the table at first, it just amuses you now when you look back on it.
"No, I'm good."
Connie groaned, toying with his sleeve. "But, you'd make so much money, since you're such a wallflower. No one would suspect a thing!"
You let out an amused scoff. "I’m not a wallflower."
Connie hummed, rolling his eyes. "Still, you'd make a lot of money, again— men like innocent people.” He laughed. “Believe me, I know." Connie finished writing the answer, showing you the paper. Followed by you circling the first word, telling him it was misspelled. He lightly groaned, fixing it and handing it back to you. "You should think about it."
You huffed, circling yet another mistake. "I don’t know, I don’t want to get killed, or worse raped." You looked to the side.
Connie pressed his lips together, turning to the side. "That’s completely fair, but I promise you that’s not going to happen. We always run background checks on people."
You handed the paper back to him, clicking your red pen. Connie just placed it on the floor looking at you. "C'mon, I've done it. The amount of pay is insane, and you get to hang out with rich people."
"What if I don't wanna’ do what they tell me?"
Connie looked back at you, grabbing his phone. "You set up a contract, with rules and guidelines, with all your clients. Just remember," He pulled up something on his phone, handing it to you- then pointing to something. "Once your client reads your contract, and agrees with it. Everything that that client does adds to the total pay. With of course, some things being completely off the table."
You cringed reading a certain part out loud. "Sex is an additional one thousand?"
Connie laughed, nodding his head. "And, if they want to do it raw, I charge them six."
You shuddered, handing back his phone. “Isn’t that- a lot?”
Connie shrugged, pushing his hair out of his face. “Naw, they still pay it. Well— my clients still pay it.” He tapped his fingers on the table, “And, if they don’t, I have Levi talk to them for me.”
“Levi?” There was more people involved in this? You cringed. "I don't know Connie, I don't think this is for me..."
Connie laughed, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "I didn't think it was for me either, but here I am. Living in a big house, with luxury items and one of my clients is planning on paying off my college tuition."
You snapped your head to him. "You're—what?!"
He laughed. "Don't worry, even if they do stop paying for it. If I just go on a few dates, then I can pay off a yearly fee."
Your mouth was dangling open. Shocked about what was coming out of this man's mouth. Right now, you were extremely tight on money. So, this sounded like a really good idea— No, it isn’t.
These are real people, who have lives, and thoughts. How could you do something so… vile? It could damage the person you’re with, or worse… you could get hurt. Which should be your biggest concern, because that was more than likely in this profession.
A light laugh emerged from your throat, while Connie just observed. Taking in your figure, and waiting for you to finish. "I don't have to have sex with them, right?.."
Connie had a small laugh of his own before answering. "Not if you want to make double what I do."
That was the beginning of senior year, you were not a junior in college. You started this life young, you didn’t mind. It was just something you didn’t tell anyone. It was your personal, and, most importantly, secret life.
Nobody had to know about that shit.
You parked a car, opening your glove compartment. Grabbing the wad of money and putting it in your bag along with the other sums of money. Glancing at the time you sighed, ‘1:30’ am. You walked out of the car slamming it behind you.
Looking back into your bag making sure you had your dress, along with your shoes and white fluff. Or— whatever those things were called.
Then, walking into your dorm, trying to be as quiet as possible. Opening the door you noticed the sound of music was turned down, but unfortunately was still loud enough to where you could make a noise complaint.
You walked into your room, unlocking the door seeing Hitch still asleep. You glanced at Floch’s room, noticing it was open. He was awkwardly laying in his bed, curled up in a ball. You sighed and walked over, turning off his light, and lowering his music. Grabbing the blanket that was tossed to the floor, and placing it over Floch’s body.
“Thanks.” Floch mumbled, readjusting his pillow. “Can you grab me a tylenol, and some water.”
“Fuck off.” You glared at him, before turning your back to him. Muttering a soft, “Goodnight, Floch.”
Floch smiled into his pillow, his eyes still shut. “Goodnight, Y/n.” You closed the door.
You hated him.
But, he loved you. Pathetically.
You walked back into your room, checking your school document. Seeing it was now filled with a full typed out essay. “Thank god for Furlan.” You shut your laptop, leaning back in your chair. Glancing at your bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch today.”
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
Your alarm went off, causing you to groggily wake up. Shaking the blanket off your shoulder. Glancing at the time. Five am. A sharp sigh left you. A brief glance at your outfit made you go into your closet, and pick out something more suitable for school. Was it designer? Yes.
You went to the restroom grabbing a towel along with a pair of underwear. You turned on the shower, letting the room fog up, then dipping in. Once done you did a quick face wash along with a makeup look. Shoving a few things into your backpack, then grabbing an apple for you to eat. After that, you walked out of your room.
‘5:27 am.’
It took ten minutes to get to your first class, and you still had to print your essay. You quickly started to run, opening the door to the library. A quick connection to your computer, and then you printed out your essay. Another glance at the time and you were already stressing.
Honestly could this thing go any slower?! An unpleasant groan came from you, as your eyes watched the paper inch outside the machine. Were they always this slow?!
It felt like years before they were done, and when they were, you were sprinting out the building. You glanced at the time again, and almost sighed in relief. Looks like you're not going to be late after all, and incidents ike tardiness were never accepted. Even though you’re the one paying to attend.
Your college was prodigious, it had top ranking students that wanted to have somewhat of an impact. Whether that be teaching, law, or— whatever else the school provided. An education major that rivaled your own, creating tension between the students.
But, law— law was something-fucking-else.
You jumped when someone ran into you, spilling all your papers to the ground. You could feel your eyebrows furrow, turning over your shoulder, glancing at who bumped into you. “Fucking excuse you.” You seethed. Their outfit only further fueled your anger. Scrubs.
Of course, the person who bumped into was in said rivaling education. Fuck him, and his two friends laughing in the back. One a girl, and another a guy. He smiled at you, glancing at the heading of your essay.
“Quarter Overview, Criminal Prosecution/Justices.”
He smiled cockily, his long brown hair tied behind his head. “Sorry, don’t sue me, or anything.” He stepped on one of your papers, “Unless, how much money for my bail?”
You were going to take him to a secluded place, kill the shit out of him, hide the body, and get away with it. You narrowed your eyes at him, “I don’t associate money with justice. I just want to protect people.”
“Are you sure about that?” His eyes skimmed over your designer clothing, almost scowling. “Don’t fucking lie about that shit, we can see you’re a money-hungry bitch who dosen’t give a fuck about people. You’d protect anyone if they paid you enough.”
You went silent, eyes flickering to the side. Technically, that’s what paying for a lawyer was. So, you wouldn't necessarily disagree with his statement. This is why you hated his major, because in a twisted way, your major was the complete opposite of his.
The savior of lives from horrible people.
The one who defends those horrible people from consequence.
“Get over it, you're paying people four hundred dollars for dollar-tree tylenol. You’re just as bad as me.” That was a lie, no matter what this guy did, he would never be as bad as you. “So, shut the fuck up, and go cry over a life you couldn’t save.”
“Fucking bitch.” His foot twisted over your paper, leaving a shoe mark into the white sheet.
You scowled at him, “Dick.” You pulled your paper from underneath his foot, “Go save a bitch who can’t pay for it, and send me the video of her sobbing from the crippling debt.”
But, the man already had his back to you.
Then, there was the medical-course.
And, because of them, you were going to be late, and your essay was now trampled and ruined.
One of the best schools for law, was shared with medical training. People in the medical course were too full of themselves. It was hard to get into this school, but getting into the medical course was a different story.
From what you've heard at least.
Supposedly, the school only takes a third of applicants. And, without a recommendation from a well-known doctor, people really had no chance of getting accepted. Additionally, there were still more rules among what doctors you could get recommendations from.
In your perspective, asking a random doctor to give you a recommendation had a better chance, than getting accepted into this school. For medical students, of course.
And, from what you’ve experienced, you're not very fond of medical course students, as anyone can see.
You sighed, collecting the last of your papers. A quick adjustment of your mask, then you started to jog again. Swinging quickly around the corner and into your classroom, a small habit you've picked up.
The moment you walked in the people gave you a quick glance, before continuing their notes. You quickly placed your essay in the basket then walked to your seat. Receiving a few quick glances from your peers.
You took a seat next to your friend Historia, widening your eyes in exaggeration. You pulled out your computer, placing it on your desk. “So, why are you late?” She innocently asked.
You continued writing and gave your answer as you did so. “I printed my essay.”
Historia nodded her head, giggling quietly. “Did you use the main campus library, or the one near the south building?”
“Main.”
Historia hummed, tapping her fingers against the desk. “That printer sucks, you need to use the other one.”
You rolled your eyes, quickly catching up on notes. Your fingers flying over your computer with inhuman speed. Historia watching in awe. “I always wondered how you typed so fast.”
You shrugged, “Practice.” You wrote the final things down, then added a sticky note in your textbook to come back to it.
Historia smiled and offered the beginning of the presentation notes. You took a quick picture and thanked her, taking off to finally get breakfast. What a way to start off the day. Thank god this class was only once a week.
You gripped the edge of your desk, head pressed about the cool surface. “I sometimes hate this school.”
“What happened?” Historia tilted her head, her cheek pressed against the desk. Trying to peer at your face, only to see your hair covering it.
“Unfortunately, I ran into a gunner.” You mumbled, practically breaking the desk underneath your grip. That’s how pissed off you were.
Historia hummed with acknowledgment, nodded her head, giggling quietly. The students in the medial-course were addressed by a different name from those who weren’t, ‘Gunners.’
They were what held up the school’s reputation, and took all the glory and fame. There was no recognition if you weren’t in the medical course, it was an easy way to become a doctor or nurse. As long as you just got into the course.
Of course, that was more than a difficult task.
Which means, you had to work above and beyond for even a small amount of acknowledgement. You weren't the special ones, you were the supporters and couldn’t do anything about it.
Again, you had a ‘small’ distaste for them. You didn’t want to kill then or anything, okay… yes, you did. But, you would never actually do it. Unless, they really crossed you.
“I’m going to kill them.”
“Don’t joke about that.”
“Who said I was joking?”
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
You sat next to Connie, texting one of your clients. Well, the one from yesterday or—today, he found a house for you to move into. Porco hated when you spoke about your horrible roommates. So, as his gift, he found you a house. It was something you two have discussed, so it wasn’t completely out of nowhere.
Porco also agreed to pay for the first monthly fee. Sending you pictures and videos, to which you showed to your best friend.
“Damn, it’s huge.” Connie swirled his fry in his ranch, taking a bite.
You scoffed, adding to his statement. “That's what I thought.” You bit your lip. “You think he— wired it?...”
Connie shrugged, looking at the pictures. “Just invite me over when you move in, I have a kit for that.”
You blinked, “A what?”
Connie stared blankly back at you. “A kit. Don’t you have one?”
You let out a confused breath. “I’m supposed to have one?!”
“Yes! You need to make sure a client isn’t recording you!” Connie exasperated.
You pulled your phone back, a small laugh erupted from you. “Yeah, Uhm. Get me some of those. Please.”
Connie placed a hand to his face, groaning. “God I’m surprised I haven’t seen you on the hub yet. Or, even on the black market for sale.”
Your face dropped. “You think so?!” You whispered. Connie scoffed, laughing into his palm.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
During your packing, your roommates would constantly come into your room, Hitch helping you pack, and Floch— Floch was just here to scold you. Saying something along the lines of, “You’re going to regret this.” Or, “I’m going to be so bored without you to bother.”’
You gave a good-bye to Hitch wishing her to be safe, and try to focus on school. She scoffed, “Whatever. I’ll do my best, or something.”
You nodded, taking her into a hug. “Don’t take shit from Floch either. Lay off the parties too.” You softly scolded.
Hitch scoffed, pushing you off her. “That's something I will not promise you.”
Your eyes softened for a second, pressing a stuffed animal into her arms. “So you’re saying, you promise to do your best?”
Hitch scoffed, turning to walk into her room. You grabbed the few things in your room and started to walk to the door. When something gently tugged you back. “What's up? Missing me already.”
Hitch rolled her eyes, pressing the wrapped shoe box into your hands. “I actually spent money on this, including the wrapper. I have a pair of my own, and thought it would be cool if you had one too. I thought they were cute.”
You nodded, placing it under your arm. “Thank you, this really means a lot.”
Hitch smiled, and turned away. “It's the least I can do since you baby me so much.”
You laughed, flicking the back of her head. “Remember to lock your door, Floch’s a huge dick.“ You whispered that last part. “You already know.”
Hitch nodded her head, playing with her sleeve. “Just— Just tell Fluff I said, bye.”
You nodded your head and said goodbye, walking out the door, and closing it behind you. Quickly walking to the moving van you placed all the things near it, watching all the men place all your stuff inside. You got in your car, phoning Connie for a second then connecting it to bluetooth.
Connie picked up, “Hey princess, today the day?”
You lightly nodded your head, turning on your engine. “Yeah, come check my house. Alright.”
You heard a scoff as you pulled out of your parking spot. “Alright, you could’ve at least said please.” You hung up the phone.
“Siri, text Connie, house location.” It took her a few seconds but she replied with.
‘Sending location.’ You waited a few more seconds before she finally said, ‘Location sent.’
“Okay, I’ll see you inna’ bit.” You ran your hand the wheel, pulling into a Mcdonalds. You were craving fries.
“You want me to pick some food up? Or, are you gonna’ get something to eat?” Connie asked.
“No, I’m not getting anything. Pick up some food.” You ended the call.
Once you arrived at your house you noticed the moving van was already there, carrying your things inside. You had given them the key, so they weren’t breaking in. Wait, did you give them a key?
You walked in, continuing to munch on your fries as you lighty started to take in the interior design that was already present before you arrived. ‘Client 4’ did state he bought some things for you, considering you were his favorite.
You promptly tipped the men bringing your stuff in, retrieving your key from them as they left. As you unpacked, you finally took the time to really take a look at your new place. More specifically the rooms. It had two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a single restroom, and the bedrooms were quite— large.
The kitchen was to die for, it had a huge fridge in the center and a stove with a wood burn oven in the back. The living room was— insane in your opinion. You had a nice view of the city, which was even better in the dark. The restroom had a freaking jacuzzi, along with a standing shower. Additionally each room was perfect, well your room was perfect.
They each had a desk, with windows to the city below them. In your room you had a hanging light that was quite beautiful, along with a massive bed in the center. With a walk in-closet.
A knock interrupted your thoughts, while you looked into the peephole noticing it was Connie. You unlocked it, and took Fluff into your arms. Cooing at the animal, getting a dirty look from Connie. He closed the door, mumbling curses under his breath as he went into the room. Pulling out a bag from his backpack.
You sat on the couch, playing with your dog as she licked your nose. She was actually something your clients had bought you. She honestly came to you as a surprise, at first the small dog was merely just a prop for you to hold. Then your client just insisted that you'd kept it, saying something along the lines of 'I have far too many at home.' So, that's how you came about her.
Connie walked back into the room. Flopping on the couch next to you. “Your rooms are good. I can do a quick check in here. If you would like.” You nodded your head, toying with Fluff’s paws. He groaned, and checked both rooms. “Alright, everythings is in the clear. I checked everything, and here.” He tossed you a bag, you swiftly caught it with one hand. Connie gave you a surprised look, while you finally took your eyes off Fluff.
“Don’t do that again.”
Connie laughed taking a seat next to you, making you slightly jump in your seat. “So, you know, how like— having two rooms, and stuff?..”
You nodded your head, and glared at Connie. “You’re not going to live with me, if that's what you're proposing.”
Connie slapped your thigh gently. “Thanks, after all I’ve done for you. But no, that's not what I mean.” You snickered, while he continued. “You see, you can charge people to live with you. And, the fact that you live around ten minutes away from your school is another huge factor. A lot of people would pay alot for a place like this.”
“A lot of people like us, would pay for a place like this. But, people don’t get a paycheck like us. And remember, people our age are dying in debt. If I do end up setting up a roommate system, I’d try to make it cheap. You know, maybe lay off a student on college debt for a moment” Connie gave you a shocked look. Your eyebrows furrowed at his expression, “What?”
“Wow, that’s the first time in a while you ever had compassion for another human being that wasn’t fake.”
You scoffed, jumping off the couch. “Whatever. Just help me unpack.”
Connie shrugged his shoulders, getting off the couch. “Back to what I was saying.” He grimaced once you finally looked at him, “I kinda told everyone you needed a roommate.”
You scoffed. “You’re helping me set up flyers then.”
“Really!”
You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Just— Just give me a week to finally have some time for myself.” Connie nodded, grabbing a few of your boxes.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
The next day at school was a hassle, suddenly everyone needed a new place to live. They were suggesting you would let them live with you. Which wouldn't be a problem, but when you brought up the idea of a monthly fee they would insist— you let them live with you for free. Honestly, how self-delusional do you have to be?
A quiet sigh came from you as Connie jogged up to your position. “I created some flyers— wait, woah. What’s up with you, you look like shit.”
You snapped your head to him. “Yeah, I wonder why. Everyone’s been talking to me about my new house.”
Connie slapped your back, handing you a flier. You crumpled it up, and threw it behind you. “Connie, I honestly don’t want a roommate right now.”
Connie held a paper in front of you leading you out of the main courtyard. “C'mon. Just post on the school board announcements, I doubt anyone would contact you anytime soon. I say you have a week.” Connie placed a flier on the board, shoving the rest in his bag. “And, you don't have to reply immediately to the person. Just try to get to them in a timely fashion.”
You looked at the paper taking in the information, there was nothing that revealed too much about the location. It had an email to where the person could contact you, and it did say pets allowed.
You shrugged your shoulders, there was nothing that you disagreed with. So, you stuck to Connie’s word. You gave it a week, no one had contacted you yet. You honestly really liked it.
Every day you would blast music, doing a live performance as you cooked or cleaned. Then you would take long baths, while doing your homework in peace.
Additionally, a useful thing you found out was, the place was not soundproof. Which wasn’t ideal for your line of work. If you were to get a roommate, they would be able to hear your private late night calls. You found out when you were blasting music, and quickly closed the door, trying to clean behind it— when the music echoed through your room. The only place being somewhat sound proof being the restroom. Of all places.
Still, the time was more than enjoyable. Living alone was a dream.
Until now, you silently were dreading it. You knew it was going to happen eventually, but— you didn’t want your fun to be over.
The flier was gone.
Immediately you thought of the student board. They could’ve just taken it down.
A quick glance at the, ‘Happy new year!’ back from twenty-thirteen changed your mind. Someone took it, maybe they just did it cause it was bothering them? Maybe, no one was going to contact you.
You typed away, trying to collect all the information from your professor. Historia seemed to be doing the same, with the two of you engaging in small conversation every now and then.
She seemed to find your situation humorous.
“Historia, this isn’t funny. I just don’t want this independent time to be over yet.” You sounded as straightforward as ever, but in your mind, you sounded so whiny. You clicked away, trying to copy a certain graph that was on the professor’s presentation.
“Well, if you want to be by yourself. Why didn’t you take down the poster?” You pondered for a second, thinking back to your times when you did have roommates. You honestly missed Hitch, you missed the company she brought you.
Again, she did get on your nerves, but you didn’t dislike the girl.
Historia cut off your thinking, “Which means, deep down, you secretly wanted a roommate. Lemmie guess, you're starting to get loney?”
You rolled your eyes, toying with the keys on your computer. Refusing to talk for some time as you copied the presentation. A small, “Maybe, but I doubt it.” Escaping your throat. She giggled, and wrote down a few things.
“But, you make it sound sad, I just want someone to help with money.” Even though money wasn’t at all a concern for you. “That's all.”
Historia laughed a bit louder than she intended to. Catching some glances from your classmates as she spoke. “Girl, you make it sound like your new roommate is going to be a pet. You need to think about—“ Both of you glanced at your phone, you just got a notification.
Maybe, it was just a random marketer that contacted you. Unlocking your phone you thought to yourself. That random marketer just wanted to know if the extra room was still available.
You turned off your phone, flipping it over. Historia gave you a quick look, not bothering to press on in the moment, and continued to write.
You didn’t open it for a day.
Your next class, you arrived a bit early, trying to finish an assignment due that day. Historia walked in and took a spot next to you, she took your phone and asked for the code. You snatched your phone back. “And, why do you need my phone?”
Historia snickered and gently took it back. “To see if you opened the email, silly!”
You thought about it, then sighed. “It’s my birthday.” You hit submit, and turned back to the girl, she just showed you the screen. You had indeed not opened it. You honestly didn’t want to.
“You know, you can say no. The person’s just asking, because the place is cheap and they’re probably struggling with money.”
A light frown graced your face as you took the phone back. “Fine, I’ll just check the email.” Historia smiled, clicking on the notification. Gracely opening it for you.
‘Arlert Armin
To: Y/n L/n
Subject: Roommates?
Hello,
I wish to live with you.’
“Huh.”
A small laugh escaped Historia’s lips. She clicked on the reply. “Not what I was expecting, I—I mean. At least they’re straight forward.”
You slowly nodded your head, composing a similar email. “Should I just get to the point?”
Historia shrugged, looking at the email. “I mean didn’t you say, ‘I don’t want a roomie.’” She raised the pitch of her voice, trying to mimic you.
You sarcastically laughed, giving her a dirty look. “Fair point.” You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t think I’m going to give it to him, what if he’s a serial killer, or something?” You’d be able to deal with a serial killer, but still, it’d be too much of a hassle to live with.
Historia leaned back in her chair, shrugging her shoulders. “Just let them down easy, say unfortunately it's not available. There, problem’s solved.” She smirked, looking at the email you’re composing. “Unless, you want a roommate.”
A bitter laugh left you as you looked at your reply. “No, I’m good. I like living alone.” You finished the email, and saved it into your drafts, turning off your phone and placing it screen down on the desk.
Historia laughed, “Sure.” Her amusement came to a halt when she got a text from her friend, she replied while replaying another concern. “By the way, what if they’re in the medical course?”
You paused, what if they’re in the medical course.
You and Connie were watching a movie, while you updated him on the situation. He was playing with fluff’s paws as he listened. He huffed, getting annoyed with your bickering. “Maybe, they just give up, and forget about it.”
Like if that person heard, a notification lit up your phone. You glanced at it seeing it was an email. Connie took it into his hand and unlocked it, opening the email and skimming over it for you. He laughed while replying to the email. “Don’t worry. I got this, you obviously don’t wanna go through with this.”
You huffed taking your phone back. “How would you know that?”
Connie scoffed, “You’ve been bitching about this since the moment I walked in the door.” You became silent, silently admitting he was right. Connie took your phone, mumbling about how, ‘I’m always right.’
“Connie…“ You sighed, trying to talk again. “Just.. I don’t know, forget about it.”
Connie laughed, ruffling your hair. He knew you too well. “I know, don’t worry.”
You lightly scoffed, shoving his hand off, and grumbling something under your breath. Connie laughed, sending an email to the random person. “Okay, they’re going to come next week with all their stuff around six.” Connie glanced at the phone and placed it down.
“On Tuesday?” Your eyes widened slightly. “Really? Isn’t that too soon?” You made a face. “And, late?”
Connie shrugged, sitting down next to you. A small scoff escaped your lips, catching Connie’s attention. “I just really hope they’re not as bad as my old roommates.” Connie adjusted his position, taking Fluff into his arms.
Your next statement made him freeze.
“And, I really hope they’re not in the medical course.”
Connie fucked up.
And, you suddenly had a roommate.
Next Chapter (2): My Bitchy Attitude, And Your Calm Understanding One.
#writers on tumblr#anime#fiction#writing#aot fanfiction#aot x y/n#rating: mature#attack on titan fanfiction#attack on titan#armin x you#armin aot#armin attack on titan#armin x reader#armin arlert#attack on Titan armin#violence
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🎨//A Sample of My Headcanons on the Dragon Daddies (Artisans Edition):
Alban:
The ill-tempered scribe of the Artisan Realms. Infinitely skeptical and standoffish towards most, getting past his cold exterior will take a tremendous amount of willpower. He's straightforward, despising small talk, preferring to 'get on with it' rather than fumbling around a pointless conversation. He's got no tolerance for foolishness of any kind, especially from his inner circle in Dark Hollow.
His duties consist of keeping historical records and the creation of books. Centuries prior, he kept business, judicial, and court records. Nowadays, he focuses on making books and taking dragon population surveys across the realms. For a few extra gems, he can even be a book editor at his client's request, but they should expect to be put on a lengthy waiting list because Alban is highly sought-after dragon.
Him and Spyro have a strained relationship stemming from an incident from a few years back. When Spyro was younger, he'd stay after his writing lessons to read the historical records with Alban. He'd practice writing through a journal given by Alban, but the scribe was appalled by a passage written on the Sorceress. He reprimanded the boy for swearing to defeat her, but Spyro said he was overreacting. Hurtful words were exchanged, and their relationship was never the same.
He utterly dreads receiving written reports from the other realms, something always goes awry during delivery. Peace Keepers scrolls are full of sand or burned, Magic Crafters use a different alphabet per realm, Dream Weavers are too cryptic, and the Beast Makers' parchment has water damage. He may seem fine on the outside, but the veins on his hands due to his death grip on the scrolls say otherwise.
He'll spend days at a time in his study just writing. Oswin is the one who delivers food and water to him, often giving updates about the outside world to him, while Darius is the one to get physical and drag him to bed if he's in there for more than three days straight. Argus jokes that the dragon wrote more in a week than the scholar could in a millennium.
After the dragons were exiled to the Dragon Realms a thousand years ago, Alban, Darius, and Oswin were the only dragons of their generation to be fully literate at four years old. They assisted Thor and Astor with teaching the other young dragons how to read and write. Darius and Oswin love to teach, while Alban, well...His perfectionism makes him excruciatingly hard to please.
He'd never admit it, but he cares deeply for those closest to him. He will always stand up for them when they need it. This protective nature extends to the youngest Artisan and his glowing dragonfly's wellbeing. He simply doesn't get along with a lot of people because of his 'unfriendly' personality and he doesn't want it to be that way, but his pride makes apologizing hard and his less than stellar social skills are great at worsening the situation.
Darius:
The theatrics never end with him, he's so dramatic in a way that's just entertaining to watch. There's always anticipation for what his answers are going to be on... anything. He thrives off the attention of a large audience on the stage but not so much off the stage. Without a crowd to listen to him blabber out his lines, he gets time to breathe, and returns to library to try to find inspiration for his next major production.
Actor, director, producer, he can assume any role he needs to. He's strict, but fair with his performers. If their mistakes are not corrected, he'll give them two chances to get it together. So far, he's found six talented dragons to be a part of his Dark Hollow troupe, not including Oswin and Alban. Watching them perform is like an otherworldly experience, it's impossible to recognize them once they're in character.
Using Spyro in a production is not a very good idea, and Darius learned this the hard way. Sparx had to remind him of which lines to say and, after he altered his costume and lines without permission, Spyro tried to 'save the play' by making everything 'action packed'. The staff and actors adjust well enough to the 'new and improved' story from the little dragon, but just want it to be over quickly so that they can harshly scold him behind the curtains. The audience left the stands confused on how their historical reenactment became a high fantasy action-adventure feature.
He gets intense when writing his characters, three or more trips to the library, a pile of crumpled drafts, and several empty inkwells. Any disturbance in his office will be removed immediately, or else a death glare to end all death glares will be thrown at any intruders. He's taken Gnorc armor before because he felt that it suited one of his characters far better than a 'bumbling oaf masquerading as a soldier'.
The Dark Hollow dragons are the only living souls allowed to go over his rough drafts. He trusts them to edit and rearrange, with his supervision, scripts for upcoming productions. This leaves Darius with enough time to set up props and finish costumes.
He reaches out for a majority of the props used in his plays, but the costumes are made by him and him only. His craftmanship is undeniably excellent, requests come from realms out of the Artisan Realms. Every Artisan owns one or more pieces of clothing crafted by his hands, the ones who purchase his pieces are the Magic Crafters.
The skull he holds is a prop carved from a stone he discovered in his rose bushes. He paid Nils to carve identical stones to use as decorations for his rose garden. The Artisans find them to be highly disturbing, some outright saying it to his face, still, Darius argues that it gives the scenery 'personality'.
Oswin:
The excitable dragon whose face is perpetually hidden behind a book. Getting his attention is like trying to put shoes on field mice, doable, but not for the weak-willed. To get him to pay attention, as rude as it is, take the book from his hands and make eye contact with him. Be quick with the topic, because then he'll start trying to find different subjects to educate on, which, as predicted, usually has little relevancy to the original topic in any way. Give him time, he's a sweet, sweet dragon with his head in the clouds, or, realistically, a puddle of water.
This librarian is a night owl through and through, he's awake from eleven in the morning to eleven at night. He'll spend entire days rearranging books, updating and making catalogues for what books are on what shelves, and reading over books before making them available to the public. The residents of Dark Hollow are unsure of how he pulls such a feat without the use of caffeine, but his energy output continues to be chipper, no matter the situation thrown at him.
He personally keeps records of book fines and adds 5 gems per day after the return date. The highest fine ever paid for an overdue book was 150 gems by an infamous young dragon. He gave him a serious lecture for keeping a book a month after it was supposed to be returned. Spyro, worried that Oswin would go berserk if he didn't do something, offered to help him organize the bottom shelves to calm him down. Now on Wednesdays, the boy organizes returned books with Oswin which the older dragon is very, very happy with.
He'll know when a book is missing or overdue, and he'll be fidgety until it's returned. This is especially the truth if the book is approaching its due date. He once showed up to Alvar's quarters in Town Square at midnight to get a cookbook returned on its exact due date. The chef said that he felt a chill travel from head to tail at the look he was given.
He's written a handful of books, fiction, meant for all audiences. 'The Dragon's Rainbow' is moderately popular and letters asking about the future installments are frequent. Gnorcs are his largest demographic, but Oswin doesn't see it as concerning. Anyone is welcome to read his fantasy novels, as long as they return them on time, which the Gnorcs never fail to do.
The genre he's spotted reading the most are fairytales and fables, because he believes the lessons taught are invaluable. Oswin is not picky about reading materials in the slightest, he'll read instruction manuals, tabloids, poetry, and biographies. If it's got words on pages, he wants it. 'Oh, can I have that when you're done with it? I don't think I've read that one before'.
The hazardous placement of candles inside of the library has been a topic of intense debate between him, Darius, and Alban. Oswin insists the candles stay as they are, Darius wants the ones on the shelves removed, and Alban is ready to install electric lamps around Dark Hollow. The librarian won't budge, promising the books will always be safe under his supervision. The pools of water on the other hand, he's still thinking about that one. He's found himself dropping books in the pools of water in the library several times since the library became his, and it's never not embarrassing. Fishing the soggy book out of the water and making a trip to Alban's study, swiftly being lambasted by the scribe as soon as he sees the pages ink smeared across the pages. Sometimes, when a story is especially enthralling, and he can't bring himself to watch where he's going, the books take him with them and, SPLASH, now they're both drenched.
#elder dragons#spyro#spyro the dragon#spyro reignited trilogy#headcanon#this is canon#artisan#peace keepers#magic crafters#beast makers#dream weaver#sparx the dragonfly#alban#oswin#darius#my thoughts#spyro headcanon
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One door opens, another is closed by someone posh : 2009 : John Myers, Digital Britain
A posh voice opens doors. Not literally, unless you are royalty, but figuratively. Opportunities seem to fall out of the sky for those who speak in a recognised way that conveys their breeding and their assumed elevated status in British society. I have observed this as someone who has never considered myself posh, as someone who has never been perceived as posh, but as someone who was thrust unprepared into a world of posh people from the age of eleven. Until my first day at grammar school, I had mistakenly believed that ‘people were people’ (to quote Lou Rawls) and that ‘meritocracy’ was a fact rather than a fancy theory. My mum had believed it too, having just bought me a red ‘Harvard’ sweatshirt from Farnborough outdoor market for having passed the eleven-plus exam. I wore it to bed (in the style of Susan Saint James) for the next thirty years until it literally wore out .. but Harvard remained a fantasy.
My claim to have never had a posh, or posh-ish, voice could be challenged by someone who knew me at age four. I was shocked when I revisited a recording of my recital by heart at that age of ‘Winnie The Pooh’, made on a Uher reel-to-reel tape recorder my father had bought second-hand from the pages of ‘Exchange & Mart’ magazine which he would pore over every week. I sounded frighteningly like a distant relative of the Queen and nothing at all like my parents. Maybe I was trying to emulate fellow toddlers at Gay Trees nursery school on Grand Avenue where owner Mrs Potten had insisted I play a reluctant shepherd in the annual Nativity play. In summer, she would lead us all onto the adjacent Recreation Ground to sit on the grass and watch the uncensored violence of her one-woman Punch & Judy show.
During the following seven years, I attended a state school on a council estate where my posh-ish voice must have been modified by a desire to integrate with my new set of peers whose ‘overspill’ families had been relocated there from South London suburbs bombed during the War. From then onwards, the only posh voice evident in our household was my mother habitually answering our phone with “Camberley double one three one”, inexplicably speaking as if she were Mrs Bouquet. Aside from this mannerism, I cannot remember meeting anyone who had a posh voice. It was not until I was aged seventeen that I visited the Ascot home of posh schoolfriend Kate Graves and asked why there was a bell button in every room, only to be told that it was used to call a servant from the scullery. Okay, I thought to myself, I must have passed into a parallel universe.
My first indication that posh people and radio were a match made in heaven arrived when I was sharing a landing with a Durham University final year music student who had heard me regularly rabbit away about my passion for radio. One day he startled me with the news that he had accepted his first job as a producer on BBC radio. I was gobsmacked. Why? Because he had never once shown an interest in radio or demonstrated any understanding of how radio programmes are produced. I was pleased for him … but I was baffled. He had not been hired as a trainee. He had been hired to produce radio programmes without apparently having what might be considered the relevant skills to do the job. Months later, I looked in ‘Radio Times’ and, sure enough, his name was listed as producer of major daytime programmes on BBC Radio Three.
Perhaps this event, which seemed insignificant at the time, had been sent to me as a sign. Perhaps the gods were telling me that I should heed their advice, that I must stop believing in ‘meritocracy’ and that I should find myself a career ambition other than radio. If that was the case, I stupidly ignored their heavenly intervention. As a result, I expended a huge amount of effort during the next three decades, making dozens of applications for BBC radio job vacancies, being interviewed for many of them, but always being rejected. On occasion, I knew the person whom the BBC appointed and I knew the brevity of their CV … but they did possess a posh voice.
Fast forward to 2009. I was crossing London’s Shaftesbury Avenue in the company of John Myers, for whom I was writing a report for the British government’s Digital Britain initiative. Having finished a work meeting together in a nearby café, I was about to catch an Underground train home, whilst John was headng to his chauffeur-driven car. As we stood on the kerb, waiting for the traffic lights to change, John said something casually to me that started with the words: “Posh boys like you …”.
I immediately laughed out loud. Without thinking, my reflex action was to declare to John: “I’m not posh”. The words fell out of my mouth immediately without considering any potential consequences.
“Really?” said John.
“Yes,” I said. “I was born in a council house and went to school on a council estate. I am definitely not posh.”
“Oh,” responded John … and then we moved on to discussing other topics.
On my way home, I reflected on why John might have thought I was posh. He had a broad Lancashire accent and could never himself have been described as posh. He had worked his way up the radio industry from a start as programme assistant in BBC local radio in 1980, ending as chief executive of Guardian Media Group Radio in 2008. I could only guess that most of the people John was meeting at his present level of work were undeniably posh. He had been commissioned by the government, its ministers and its civil servants to produce a significant report on the regulation of the commercial radio industry in the digital age. Almost every one of his contacts for this work must have been posh. Perhaps, to him, I appeared to be just another of these posh ‘boys’.
Whatever the reason for his off-the-cuff comment, I sensed during the weeks and months that followed, that John’s attitude to me altered perceptibly. He continued to hold daily conversations with me by phone, email or in-person, as was necessary for me to ghost-write his report. In parallel, he had regular conversations and meetings with senior people in the radio industry, government and the Civil Service. But I was never invited to meet any of these people, even though it would have proven a lot more productive for me to have taken notes at these meetings rather than having to wait for John to relay me their content and outcomes. John convened and met regularly with a ‘committee’ of seven senior people and with a separate ‘consultation group’, both of which are listed at the end of the written report. I was credited merely with ‘research and support’, despite having transformed John’s handful of pages into a coherent 104-page document.
As a result of the report, John was invited by the radio industry to give the keynote speech at the 2009 Radio Festival event. As with the report, John sent me his drafted notes in advance, which I converted into a speech and an accompanying presentation. He did not invite me to attend the event. One morning, I woke to hear the bedside radio on BBC Radio Four broadcasting a live interview with John concerning the report. Once the written work had been completed, John did not keep me informed of the publicity it was receiving or its impact on government policy.
I was disappointed. John had needed my skills to research and write what came to be known as ‘The Myers Report’. However, after our ‘posh’ conversation, he had been careful to keep me away from the radio industry people who might prove useful contacts for me to find a job in radio, but who might see that it was really me writing the report rather than John himself. I understood how difficult it must be for a significant document bearing your name to be ghosted by someone else who had never been chief executive of a radio business, as he had, and by someone who was not even posh like his peers.
I consider John an example of how ‘posh’ not only commands respect amongst similarly posh people, but equally from people who are not at all posh. Posh equals clever. Posh equals superior. Posh equals special. Posh equals the ability to make people of every class believe you deserve to be treated as someone who can rule, can manage, can order, can tell the rest of us what we do. Whatever comes out of a posh person’s mouth is believed and, even if evidently untruthful, is retained as ‘gospel’. Posh people maintain their superiority only because the rest of us let them, encourage them and look up to them in the master/servant, upstairs/downstairs deference we have implicitly imbibed since childhood. Posh is superpower.
I had worked with John only as a result of sending him an e-mail attached to an analysis paper for MA studies that I had written earlier about the same regulatory aspect of radio for which his report had been commissioned. He had offered me a £10,000 fee to provide research support. Very quickly, my responsibilities went much further and led to five months full-time work on this report, during which time I had to reject offers of other freelance work. I shared my concerns with John that my work with him had deprived me of income and he promised that, although I was underpaid for this commission, he believed it would lead to further reports on which the two of us could continue to work together. He recognised that we had complementary skills and we worked well together.
The first negative signal arrived when I invoiced John for my fee once the report had been published by the government. I was registered with HMRC for VAT (sales tax) and was legally required to add an additional 17.5% to my invoice. John responded that he was not registered for VAT and therefore could not reclaim any VAT he might pay to me. As a result, he did not want to pay the VAT on my invoice. This response confused me. I had no knowledge of the amount he had been paid by the government to write the report that I had just ghosted for him. I was certain it must be at least ten times the fee he was paying me. He was disputing a payment of £1,750 that was required by tax law, when he had probably earnt one hundred times that sum for the same work. I persisted but he refused steadfastly to pay the VAT of my invoice. I was not at all happy.
In 2010, I read in the news that John had been commissioned by the BBC to write a report about its radio services. This was exactly the kind of further work that John had promised me and which I was hoping to be considerably more lucrative for my contributions. I met him at a café near Broadcasting House to discuss this next project. Initially, he wanted to know about the online blog I had been publishing since 2008.
“How much are you paid for your blog?” John asked me, betraying his lack of understanding of online social media platforms.
I had to explain that a blog pays nothing but its author hopes that their online presence would lead to connections, work and income in the long run. It was a marketing exercise, but intrinsically unprofitable. He still seemed enthusiastic.
“How did you get your book published about DAB?” John asked.
My anthology of blog pieces about DAB radio had just been self-published as a book, so I offered him a free copy and explained the basics of creating a book for sale online and in bookshops. He seemed intrigued by the potential. Finally, our discussion moved on to the BBC report which John had been commissioned to write. My expectations were high. I was excited by the prospect of much needed work.
“You will not be involved in this report,” John said suddenly. “But I hope there will be something we can work on together in future.”
I was in shock. So much shock that I cannot recall the remainder of the meeting. I left feeling disappointed, deflated but mostly … betrayed. I had had to reject work the previous year because of the intensity of work on our last report. I had been paid a pittance. I had been promised work that now had not materialised. Because of the minor contribution with which I had been credited in the last report, I had received no unsolicited approaches to write similar reports. My work had been unacknowledged, unrewarded and now I felt I had been side-lined altogether.
I never received further offers of work from John Myers. But he started publishing his own blog about radio, much like mine. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery … but it does not pay the bills. Eventually I noticed that, in his blog, John was citing analyses of radio data that I had done and published in my blog, but he was neither crediting me nor linking to the source. As a result, I stopped publishing further blog entries after August 2011. It seemed pointless offering John further examples of my skills in analysis for him to claim the credit and make money.
In 2011, John Myers was appointed chief executive of The Radio Academy. In 2012 he was appointed visiting professor at the University of Cumbria. He published his own book about radio the same year but did not send me a copy.
At a Tribunal in 2015, John Myers was found guilty of tax evasion on earnings of £6.3m in 2005/6, for which he had paid only £130,000 in tax.
#commercial radio#Digital Britain#Grant Goddard#John Myers#local radio#media regulation#radio#radio broadcasting#radio industry#radio regulation#radio sector#radio station
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Hi, this is very random but I'm actually writing a dissertation on Harry Potter Fanfiction and I'm looking for the 'big' fics, i.e. fics that lots of people in the fandom read - the most popular/famous ones that might even have their own sub-fandom (All The Young Dudes for example). Do you know of any Drarry ones like this? Thanks in advance!
What a wonderful topic for a dissertation @realistic-but-optimistic - I would LOVE to read it if you ever publish/want to share. And I definitely have some recs for fics that have their own mini fandom and/or are ‘The Drarry Classics’
What We Pretend We Can't See by @gyzym [131k words]
Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought
This is THE fandom classic almost everyone has read and talks about. It features a redeemed, slightly obsessive, charming Draco. Grimmauld Place plays a huge role in the fic and Ron/Hermione are wonderful. Overall 10/10.
Running on Air by @tinyhistory [75k]
Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.
I genuinely do not know if any fic rec can do justice to this masterpiece. It’s so beautiful and poignant and somehow nostalgic. The language, the plot, the pining and the mystery are all breathtaking. You have to read this one yourself to believe me. This is definitely a major fandom classic.
Tea and No Sympathy [70k] by who_la_hoop
It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?
If you like Groundhog Day style fics, this is the winner! It has over 32k kudos on AO3 which is INSANE! It’s super well written and keeps you hooked until the very end. And it’s not just this one, every fic by this author is a classic in its own right. Especially ‘written on the heart.’
Right Hand Red [73k] by @lqtraintracks
Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory.
Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy.
Malfoy felt inevitable.
No rec list can be complete without an eighth year fic. The fandom is FULL of eighth year fics and they’re perfect for anyone craving a Harry Potter continuation but with Drarry. This is one of my absolute favourite ones. It features a lot of party games and it’s really nice to see Harry and Draco have a chance at a normal school year for once, something they’ve been robbed of for so many years. There’s a lot of pining and healing in this one and I felt all the feels when I read it.
Away Childish Things [151k] by @letteredlettered
Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.
This one. This one. THERE ARE NO WORDS BUT I WILL VALIANTLY ATTEMPT. I love it. It explores Harry’s childhood in a way very few fics have managed to and it really really tugs at the heartstrings. It’s gorgeously written and evokes so many emotions. Please read this one.
Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) [44k] by @firethesound
Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.
Full disclosure- I haven’t read this and I don’t know if I ever can. It features MCD (main character death) and I really struggle with reading fics that don’t have a happy ending. Having said that, it is a fandom classic and everyone who has read it, RAVES about it. They say it’s gorgeous and beautiful and devastating. What I can confirm is that firethesound is an amazing author and I have read several other fics by them which could also be considered fandom classics. Especially ‘All Our Secrets Laid Bare’ which is the ultimate Auror partners fic and ‘A Convenient Impracticality’ which is the ultimate fake dating/friends-with-benefits fic.
Dwelling [83k] by aideomai
Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better.
Oh my goodness, this fic ruined me. In the best possible way. If you want a glimpse into how Harry’s life could have been if his parents had been alive and if Harry and Draco had been friends from the start, this is the one. There's a huge twist which makes the fic EVEN better. I don’t want to spoil too much but this one is worth a read. Another fic by the same author, ‘Far From The Tree’ is also gorgeous. It’s a newer fic so I wouldn’t say it’s a classic yet but the plot is SO unique. It features Harry’s grown up kids coming back into the past and how that could affect Harry/Draco’s relationship. All the characters are super well written and it’s one of my personal favourites!
Other notes:
I made a Drarry rec list when I first got into the fandom. I would say almost all the fics on this list are also classics/very well liked.
Another great way to find classics are through this link. They are Drarry fics on Ao3 (30k+ words) sorted by the number of kudos they’ve received. I would say all fics on the first five pages can be considered classics.
Here are three other SUPER adored authors in the Ao3 fandom: Bixgirl, Saras_Girl and GallaPlacidia
All works by Bix and Saras_Girl are considered classics. GallaPlacidia started writing for the fandom only a couple of years back but she has such a knack for writing both these boys, it’s absolutely insane. I’m 100% confident her fics will be considered classics in a few years! Especially ‘The Bucket List’ and ‘Ship of Theseus.’
Enjoy and hope this helps!!
#drarry#drarry fics#drarry squad#draco x harry#drarry fic search#drarry fic recs#drarry fandom#classics#harry x draco#drarry fic rec masterlist
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Top Ten Most Wilbur Streams Ever:
rules: no dsmp lore streams, no music streams. I also tried to pick one from each ‘category’ of wilbur streams.
10. ‘If Niki Laughs the Stream Ends’ - feat. Niki
I showed extreme self-restraint in not adding more Niki-Wilbur solo streams. Anyway, this is the most enjoyable Wilbur ylyl vod, and one of the best of the Niki-Wilbur chill content genre. Besides their great chemistry, the Shawty bit is one of my favorites from the chat, and Niki losing it at the dumbest videos is just really enjoyable.
9. ‘mcc 12 - How long can I go without saying 'Gogy' ‘- feat. TapL, Phil, George
This team got first place four games in a row, had everyone in the top ten at one point, and looked great doing it. Wilbur’s chemistry with TapL and George despite having not made much content with them is off the charts, and it’s generally just such a fun vod to watch. Not only that, but their complete dominance and ease in so many games make this a really satisfying pov to watch, making this a rare vod where the gameplay and jokes are both at the top of their game. their communication and morale and skills and insane battle box comeback make this vod my favorite mcc team for Wilbur.
8. ‘Ultimate Chicken Horse (Post-nap stream)’ - feat. Niki, Fundy, Phil, and Tommy
Just a good time. Peak early dream smp content groups where people were just trying different dynamics out. Fundy shrieking when he died, everyone doing so poorly. They spend twenty minutes at the beginning trying to get Tommy to leave so Niki can play, some random dude accidentally joins. Cinema.
7. ‘Text-To-Speech Mediashare’ - feat. Phil’s assistance
Chaotic energy in the year of our lord 2020. The premise is simple: typing in chat activates a voice command, such as the word “clap” producing a clapping sound. This, as you can imagine, goes horribly, and breaks several times, while generally being overwhelming. At one point, Wilbur thinks he broke the entirety of twitch. This is where the clip of him reacting to the pigeon’s head coming off is from, it’s top tier.
6. ‘Minecraft 100 Player Lab Rat Experiment’ - feat. Technoblade
Definitely the best 100p in stream format, although I prefer the edited videos of some others, which is what keeps the moles and birds stream off this list. This is peak techbur content, what more can I say. uhhhh the techno burning his hand story makes me laugh every time I hear it, give it a watch.
5. ‘drunk geoguessr and minecraft with Niki, Fundy’ - feat. Fundy, Tubbo, Niki, Jack
Literally does “drunk christmas eve stream with dream smp gang” need more explanation? Drunk mamma mia!! Drunk geoguessr! Wilbur gives a giant sappy rant about how he loves his audience! Tubbo accidentally making Wilbur and Jack chug a ton of vodka is a highlight, but the whole stream just has a bubbly chaotic energy that really bottled the late 2020 dream smp vibes.
4. 'It's time for monopoly‘- feat. Niki, Minx
It is a three-hour vod of actually playing monopoly and it is the funniest gameplay of it I’ve seen in my life. Minx doesn’t know how to play monopoly and struggles the entire time, yet somehow, she’s winning for a majority of it. It’s the most shit-talky we’ve ever seen Wilbur be. featuring bits such as ‘Pussy so good gotta put it in jail- uh’, ‘it’s free parking you stupid bitch’, Minx taking so long on her turns that Wilbur starts timing them, and Minx trying to think of warm places to go and only being able to think of Spain. Wilbur comes from behind to win the whole thing through psychological warfare, Minx loses her shit. Iconic. It’s one of those streams where the full three-hour experience is needed to feel the relief when Wilbur wins, and yet it doesn’t drag at all.
3. LAST HOUSE STREAM Short fun improv n that with Jack and Tommy - feat. Jack, Tommy
This is Wilbur’s funniest stream. Ever. I’ve watched it like five times and it still makes me laugh hysterically, it’s the peak of crimeboys humor. While everyone has their favorite bits, there’s really not a bad one, but finding out that Tommy does a great Karen accent and Jack and Wilbur rping distraught girlfriends are highlights. It’s just. So funny. Watch it.
2. skyblock randomizer finale - feat. my tears
I don’t think the vod even exists anymore, but the edited video does. It’s notorious for making people cry, and for good reason. I talk about it more here, but what made this series so unique was Wilbur’s ability to carry a story entirely solo, in such a solitary and empty environment. It shows how simple it is for people to get attached to things, for them to build a home and find things to love, and it’s all over a pixelated fish.
1. Quackity Wine Stream - feat. Quackity, George
It’s all fresh in our minds, so I’m sure I don’t have to recap too much, but this is easily the best of the “Wilbur is rambling freely about whatever topic comes to mind” streams that actually exist on Wilbur’s channel. Wilbur and Quackity have amazing chemistry and just have really candid conversations about their friendship and content creation as a whole, once they get started there’s not really a moment of uninteresting discussion. Plus, the fact that they’re getting progressively more drunk is an added bonus, also Wilbur’s beret is really cute. Who knows if it’ll stay my favorite as time passes but it is rn
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𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 – 𝒊𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒛𝒖𝒎𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒋𝒊𝒎𝒆
࿏ pairing: iwaizumi hajime x chubby female reader
࿏ genre: fluff, smut, angst; best friends to lovers!AU
࿏ word count: 11.6k (at this point i have no explanation, im sorry)
࿏ warnings: swearing, mentions of body image issues, self doubts, anxiety, bullying, fat shaming; as well as violence and blood (iwa gets into a fight mwah); ddlg (daddy dom-little girl) dynamics, soft dom!iwa, body worship, praising, sugarcoated degradation, spitting, choking, fingering, face riding, unprotected sex
࿏ Summary: After four years of trying to get over your stupid crush on your best friend, said male finally comes back home and all of a sudden all of those plans are thrown overboard...
Even though you‘ve known about it for so long now, you still feel your heart skip a beat when Matsukawa mentions his return to Japan and no matter how hard you try to, you can‘t help the way the disgusting mixture of anxiety, nervousness and excitement starts filling your veins.
After all it‘s been literal years since you‘ve last seen him.
Iwaizumi Hajime, former Seijoh Ace, now freshly majored athletic trainer, your best friend of ten years and — love of your life.
However, of course he doesn‘t know about the latter and as pathetic as it may sound, you‘re quite proud of yourself for hiding your feelings for him so well that he hasn‘t suspected anything in all these years the two of you have been friends.
Of course it‘s painful and basically nothing but literal torture to watch the guy you‘ve lost your heart to years ago, move on with his life thinking he‘s nothing but a friend to you, but you know you‘d always choose this pain over the one of rejection and shame.
Because after all you‘re not his type or what he looks for in a partner and you're very much aware of it.
And no matter how many times you daydream about a life as his girlfriend, you won’t ever forget about the fact that Iwaizumi Hajime, basically a literal athlete, would never date someone who looked like you.
Growing up on the bigger side, physically wise, has always been difficult and something you're struggling with to this day. You had always hoped for those extra pounds to disappear once you hit puberty, just like it had happened to all of your friends but those hopes were quickly destroyed when you still found yourself hiding from full length mirrors to avoid having to look at your own body in your third year of High School.
By the time you turned eighteen, you had tried every kind of diet in hopes of losing weight but all of them just ended with you losing motivation and every bit of your happiness and even though you still struggle with it in your mid-twenties, you‘ve come to terms with it.
This is who you are and despite taking literal decades to realize it, you‘ve slowly but surely started accepting it.
However, when it comes to relationships, you‘ve given up completely.
After years and years of being rejected, hidden, fat shamed and disrespected by men who hated their own attraction to bigger women, you stopped wasting your time and energy on dating. If you wanted to hear someone shame you for being big, you could just go home to your family or back in your memory to remember all those mean things the skinny girls in your school had thrown at you.
Or you could just look in the mirror and let your brain do the job after eating literally anything.
Just thinking about a guy like Iwaizumi looking at you in that way has you chuckling coldly and every time you imagine confessing to him, it ends with a broken heart on your side because your brain loves to keep things realistic and never once have you considered the possibility of him liking you back.
It‘s not that Iwaizumi, or any of the Seijoh Volleyball boys, have treated you badly or even slightly differently in the three years you were their manager, but after having to deal with fat shaming your whole life, it has become quite difficult for you to believe that anyone found you attractive at all.
Especially people like the widely known Seijoh third years who also happen to – still – be your closest friends.
And unfortunately, as glad as you are that Iwaizumi remains rather oblivious to your year-long crush on him, the other boys, including the professional athlete to be, Oikawa Tōru who’s currently living his best life in Argentina are pretty much aware of your feelings for the trainer.
So, just as usual whenever the topic of Iwaizumi Hajime enters the conversation between the other two, you’re met with pitying stares from Takahiro and a lot of teasing coming from Issei. But at this point you’ve gotten quite used to it and don’t mind the brunette’s words, whereas you still find yourself growing absolutely annoyed at the way Makki stared at you.
“Stop staring at me like that, Hiro!”, you hiss and roll your eyes, the pity in his face so evident, if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s mocking you.
“Just confess to him already!”, the strawberryblonde hisses, running one of his pale hands through his locks before he takes a big sip from his beer.
“Yeah, sure!”, you spit back, your words dripping in sarcasm and annoyance as you try to avoid your chest from growing even heavier at the thought of your best friend coming back after all those years.
“He broke up with that blondie months ago”, Matsukawa begins, his naturally sleepy gaze roaming your face attentively, “and he’s coming back to Japan. Now you really have no excuse left, Y/N”, and just as usual his words hit the right spot and all you can do is let out a shaky sigh before the intensity of your insecurities breaks down onto you like a huge wave.
“I‘m not his type, Mattsun”, you hiss, the bitter taste of reality coating the muscle of your tongue in the worst way possible, “and I‘ve had enough males reject and– or fat shame me. If I have to add Hajime to that list as well, it’s going to break me.”
You feel the two males’ soft gazes on you, whereas you can‘t help but focus on the napkin in between your fingers in hopes of distracting yourself from all those dark thoughts by nervously pulling at it.
“Iwa‘s not like that, Y/N”, Makki replies, brows furrowed in irritation; something you've grown quite used to seeing whenever the topic of your body image issues occured.
“Has he ever dated a big girl before, hm?”, you reply and look at him with arched brows and your lips pressed into a thin line. At the lack of response from the two men in front of you, you just lean back and nod.
“That‘s the point”, you take another deep, shaky breath; the tears threatening to spill from your glossy eyes at the thought of your pretty faced best friend and only men in your heart, “nobody likes women who look like me in that certain way, my loves. Every guy I‘ve been and slept with wanted to hide me or the relationship we had because they didn‘t want to be seen with a big girl.”
Suddenly you‘re hit with the memory of all those times you went home after any kind of intercourse with a male who had brought your hopes up with sugarcoated lies. Only to receive a harsh reality check when they asked you to not tell anyone about it, knowing it‘s simply because of the fact you aren‘t part of society‘s beauty standards.
“Y/N, we-”, “I‘m not talking about you two”, you‘re quick to interrupt Hanamaki, giving him a soft smile, “I know you don‘t care about it and sometimes I find myself wishing I would have fallen for one of you instead of the professional trainer”, you let out an empty, coldhearted chuckle before you finish your glass of wine in one go.
“I would fuck you without hesitation”, Mattsun shrugs, his plump lips stretching into a playful smirk and the tiny hint of seriousness in his gaze has you rolling your eyes with a soft scoff.
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Issei”, Makki hisses and gives his best friend the same reaction as you.
“What? I‘m being serious! You know this isn‘t the first time I‘m offering this to you, pretty one”, the brunette replies and this time you can‘t help but chuckle softly at his words, showing him your appreciation for his ability to make such heavy topics vanish from the surface so easily.
“Thank you, Issei but that guy I met on Tinder has been ghosting me for two weeks after we fucked and that‘s why I‘ve had enough dick for now”, and just when you let your gaze roam over the brunette‘s handsome face, you watch Hanamaki‘s face brighten up suddenly and furrow your brows in confusion.
“Hearing Y/N talk about dick is definitely not what I was expecting to come back to but it‘s surely a surprise!”
And upon hearing the familiar voice of your best friend, you understand the reason behind the change in Makki’s expression.
You watch the other two get up from their chairs, approaching the freshly majored trainer with the biggest smiles plastered on their faces whereas you try your best to stay as calm as possible.
However, the simple thought of Iwaizumi coming back had already stressed you out and having him stand behind you in all his glory made the tightness in your chest and the struggle to take proper breaths intensify just like that.
After what feels like an eternity you finally get yourself to stand up as well, turning around literally convinced you‘re ready to see him again after all these years only for it to be the exact opposite.
Your heart skips a whole beat at the sight of Iwaizumi and for a quick second you feel yourself getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen in your lungs.
“Hey”, he mumbles, his voice deep and raspy, something you‘re used to since the two of you have been talking regularly on the phone over the time yet hearing it in person again sends a jolt of hot arousal right into your core.
You nervously let your eyes roam his face; taking in the sight of his features, which have become even sharper during his absence. A soft sigh falls past your lips when you find the little scar right underneath his eyebrow which he had gotten back in middle school during one of his volleyball practices. The familiarity and feeling of security in the soft expression of his pretty, dark green eyes calms you down in an instant and by the time you feel your muscles ease up a bit, he‘s already approaching you with open arms.
Different than you’ve expected from yourself, you‘re quick to wrap your arms around his slim waist, taking him into your embrace with the intention of never letting him go again and at the feeling of his big hands on your body, you can‘t help but tear up a little.
You sniffle softly against the crook of his neck, Iwaizumi letting out a breathy chuckle at your sweet reaction as he caresses your back gently, subconsciously massaging your soft flesh to calm you down even more.
“Seems like someone missed me a lot more than she wanted to admit on the phone, hm?”, Iwa mumbles softly, placing the sweetest kiss on the top of your head as he holds you tight.
Matsukawa and Hanamaki let out a row of deep chuckles, partly laughing at your obvious reaction and partly because of their best friend‘s blatant oblivion.
“Shut up”, you reply with a sniff, taking in the light yet intense smell of his aftershave as well as the scent of detergent you had missed oh so much.
“Enough now, Y/N”, Mattsun huffs, “you can cuddle his stupid ass some other time, let‘s catch up with Mister America”, he adds and you know too well the tall brunette simply does it to stop you from falling even further into this dark hole you‘ve dug yourself; all those years ago.
Throughout the whole night, you stay rather quiet; listening to Iwaizumi‘s stories, more so to his voice but definitely his stories, too.
And every time he mentions some random girl he hooked up with or one of his ex girlfriends, you can literally feel the way he‘s avoiding your gaze; his eyes moving away from your face to focus on the guys as his voice turns a little less enthusiastic. You try your best not to read anything into it, knowing he‘s always been more hesitant towards you when it came to topics like this and in some way you find yourself appreciating it because it definitely helps to make the pain in your chest a little less heavy.
The atmosphere between the four of you remains calm; the familiarity something you‘ve always missed despite you and the other two boys spending just as much time together as you used to back in High School. Having Iwaizumi in your little circle again definitely has changed the air and it‘s in times like these you realize just how close you all actually are.
However, when Hanamaki and Matsukawa both stand up, cigarettes firmly placed between their plump lips, telling the two of you to give them a few minutes, you feel yourself slowly wandering into a state of anxiousness and slight panic.
It‘s not like you haven‘t talked to him alone during his stay in America, but the thought of having to look him in the eyes as you speak has always been something you‘ve struggled with.
Iwaizumi has this certain expression in his beautiful, dark green eyes, which makes it so much harder to not fall for him even more.
You don‘t know if it‘s the confidence and lack of insecurity or the mixture of softness and home which have the butterflies in your stomach go absolutely crazy.
Neither of you say anything for a good minute, your eyes glued to your phone screen which continuously lights up; Oikawa‘s name appearing several times.
You excuse yourself to give the professional athlete the responses he‘s waiting for, rolling your eyes at his way of telling you to shoot your shot at Iwa and “get that D”.
“Are you still talking to that one guy you told me about?”, Iwaizumi suddenly says, his eyes never once leaving yours and with a soft chuckle, you shake your head; enjoying the amount of protectiveness dripping from his words.
“We fucked and then he ghosted me”, you say casually, not realizing that it‘s not one of the other two boys you‘re talking to and with a soft gasp of embarrassment you try to mumble your way out of the situation.
“Iwa, I‘m-”, “Why the fuck would he even do that? Give me his fucking address so I can introduve his kneecaps to my baseball bat”, he‘s quick to interrupt you harshly, his tone filled with anger as his eyes gleam with wrath.
“It‘s okay”, you smile softly, placing your hand on his balled fists to calm him down again, “he told me not to tell anyone that we did it so his intentions have never been good. And on top of that – his dick game was so bad, I didn‘t even get to finish but had to take care of it myself, so it‘s definitely not worth the headache.”
You watch Iwaizumi‘s expression darken even further, his beautiful dark green eyes roaming your face with irritation oozing from his gaze and for a second you like to believe that there‘s even a hint of jealousy in between all those intense emotions but just as usual you find yourself shaking it off rather quickly.
“Why did he ask you not to tell anyone? What the fuck is even wrong with that guy?”, the brunette spits, downing the rest of his beer in one go.
You know why he‘s this angry and at this point you can’t even blame him anymore. Iwaizumi has never really understood why you put up with guys who treated you like absolute shit; continuously telling you how you deserved so much better and even though you wanted to agree, you simply couldn‘t. Because in your head, all those men who were ashamed of being with you yet still found their way to your door were exactly what was meant to be your life.
“Because being with a woman like me isn‘t anything he‘s proud of, Iwa”, you sigh, the words heavy and bitter on your tongue as you struggle to voice the hard reality.
“A woman like you?”, he replies and you see the genuine confusion on his handsome face, making his oblivion sweet almost.
“A big woman, Iwaizumi. Guys don‘t date big girls because we don‘t fit into society‘s beauty standards so being with us is something they‘re ashamed of because God forbid someone thinks they find us attractive“, you nervously play with the hem of your skirt, not having the courage to look into his face as those thing leave your lips, too embarrassed to meet his usually so welcoming and soft, but now wrath-filled gaze.
“That‘s bullshit”, Hajime is quick to spit back, hating the way you belittle yourself like that because of a random guy.
You smile, a soft scoff falling past your lips before you take a sip from the glass in front of you and even though you know you‘re going to regret those words, you still can‘t get yourself to stop from leaving you.
“Then why have you never dated a big girl, Haji?”, your voice is slightly shaky yet you remain the eye contact like a champion, never once averting your gaze from his handsome face even though the thrumming of your heart in your throat makes it so much more difficult to stay focused.
Iwaizumi seems taken aback; your words obviously hitting a place he wasn‘t expecting and that‘s when the feeling of guilt reaches its peak.
“I‘m not- It‘s not because I don‘t find them attractive I just- I uhm-”, the freshly majored professional trainer stumbles over his words like a two-year-old who just started learning how to speak and at the sight of a deep blush covering the apples of his cheeks as well as the tip of his nose and the whole of his neck, you let out a soft sigh.
“You don‘t have to explain yourself, Iwaizumi. I wasn‘t trying to accuse you of anything or offend you in any way, I promise. It’s just a topic I‘ve grown really tired of in the past few years”, you explain, making sure to choose your words carefully and when the tall male suddenly starts calming down again, you know you‘ve got him.
“Y/N, look-”, “Hey, Y/N the weak-dick-game guy is sitting at the bar with his ugly friends, just for your information”, Matsukawa‘s deep voice quickly cuts Iwaizumi off, his words sending shivers down your spine in the most disgusting way possible and with an almost painful roll of your eyes, you down the rest of your best friend‘s beer.
“Wait- What? Which one is it?”, Iwaizumi grunts, the calmness from a few seconds ago completely gone as you look at him with brows furrowed in slight irritation and annoyance.
“It doesn‘t matter, Iwa”, you say and wrap your fingers around his tattooed wrist, making him look into your eyes with another soft exhale, “he‘s not worth it. Just let it go.”
“Y/N, I said”, Iwaizumi is quick to place one of his big hands on your cheek, the dominance in his aura and the authority gleaming in his eyes has you gasping for air and just as usual you feel your panties growing wetter by the minute, “which one is it?”
His words don‘t leave room for protest; so strict and demanding, no matter how hard you try to think rationally, his naturally dominant persona has you submitting to him in a way no other guy has ever managed to.
“T-The one with the long, dark purple Hair”, you quickly reply, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of Iwaizumi‘s anger and determination.
“Good girl”, he mumbles and pulls away, not even aware of the way his praise has your cunt throbbing like crazy and you absolutely hate him for it.
For a second you can‘t even get back to reality, the haze of arousal and longing for the tall male standing in front of you completely taking over your consciousness.
However, as soon as your brain registers Makki‘s panicked voice, you‘re quick to snap back and without missing another beat, you grab Iwaizumi‘s arm and look at him with pleading eyes.
“Please don‘t make a scene”, you whisper, knowing oh too well how much he loves to get himself in trouble because of his friends.
“He fucked then ghosted you all that while saying he doesn‘t want anyone to know he was with you because you're a big girl? That ugly fucker needs a fucking reality check because he can count himself hella fucking lucky to ever get a go with a woman as amazing and hot as you”, Iwaizumi hisses, his words filled with anger yet so, so sweet that without giving it another thought, you simply let go and try not to show him just how flustered he‘s gotten you.
“Are you guys about to kiss right now?”, Matsukawa suddenly says and with an almost audible roll of your eyes you lift your hand up, showing him your middle finger before you watch Iwaizumi‘s brows furrow even further with visible irritation.
“Then don‘t fight him”, you sigh, “please, Hajime, don‘t get yourself in trouble for a guy who‘s not worth it.”
“We‘ll see about it”, is all he says before he moves out of your tight grip, leaving you to stand at the table like that.
You feel your heart picking up its pace at the sight of the love of your life approaching your ex-hook up; several worst case scenarios popping up in your head within a few short seconds. And unfortunately every single one ends with Hajime throwing his fist into the guy‘s face because of his raging anger issues; something he‘s been trying to handle throughout his whole life.
“Makki, please do something”, you whimper and look at the strawberryblonde with glossy eyes; shivers running down your spine at the sudden sound of Hajime's deep voice cutting through the music of the bar.
“Not into you my fucking ass”, Takahiro hisses and follows Iwaizumi with quick steps, whereas Matsukawa remains next to you, watching the scene unfold with the fattest, shit eating grin on his face.
And while you‘re worried about Iwaizumi‘s well-being, said male can‘t even seem to think straight. The only thing he manages to focus on is the raging anger and hot wrath rushing through his veins at the thought of some random, small dicked guy treating you like dirt. With every step he takes, it seems to get worse and at some point the professional trainer is worried about his physical health because of the pace his heart is hammering against his rib cage with.
Iwaizumi has always struggled to understand why you put up with males who are literally unworthy of your presence yet every time he had asked, you simply shrugged and told him that this was how you were meant to be loved. Behind closed doors, hidden away from the world by people who literally worship the society‘s beauty standard.
And all of that when you‘ve had him right in front of you for all those years, ready to love and worship every bit of your body and soul.
Of course for you to let him love you he might have had to tell you about his feelings but as the years passed by, Iwaizumi slowly started to lose every bit of hope he had left. During his four year long absence you‘ve had your fair share of boyfriends and after the third one, the only choice he had left was to force himself to move on or else he would have lost his mind.
It‘s not like he never wanted to confess during High School but there was just something holding him back. The thought of losing you was heavy on his chest especially because Iwaizumi was very well aware you didn‘t feel the same. So for his own sake he chose not to tell you about his feelings for you; not even bearing the mental image of going through such rough times without you by his side.
He‘s already lost count of the amount of times he wanted to scream at you about how he would treat you just how you truly deserved to be treated and not like those douchebags who liked to use you for their own pleasure just to throw you away like a used tissue once they were done.
And after not being able to physically do anything for you because of the distance, he‘s finally got the chance to show you that no, those guys‘ behavior is not okay and yes, putting them back into their place is absolutely worth the headache.
“Hey”, the trainer hisses, coming to stand directly in front of the tall, purple haired guy, Rin Matsuoka, who‘s quick to harden his expression upon seeing the brunette.
“What can I help you with, big guy?”, Rin mumbles, placing his bottle of beer on the counter with his brows raised in curiosity.
Iwaizumi doesn‘t even waste another minute as he harshly grabs the collar of Rin‘sblack leather jacket, pulling him closer to himself. His friends rather quickly, yet Hanamaki and this time even Matsukawa are faster, coming to stand right next to each one of them with their arms firmly placed in front of their bodies to stop them from intervening.
“You‘re gonna listen to me and you‘re gonna listen good, did you fucking hear me?”, and just like a few minutes ago, Hajime‘s voice is cold and distant, not leaving room for discussion all while making sure to keep his tight grip.
The confusion and immense irritation is clearly visible on Rin‘s features; brows furrowed, jaw tensed and eyes gleaming with some kind of unnameable anger.
And the longer you watch the situation unfold, the heavier the anxiety in your system becomes and as you struggle to take proper breaths, you find yourself approaching your best friends; not wanting him to get his hands dirty on a guy like Matsuoka.
“What the-”, “Iwa please, he‘s not worth it..”, you say and wrap your fingers around his wrist, trying to find his gaze with desperate eyes only for him to gulp harshly and calmly tell you to take a step back.
“You?”, Rin spits, his dark eyes boring into your side as you try to ignore him; the amount of humiliation and shame washing over your body way too overwhelming to handle.
“Haji, let‘s just go, please”, you whisper, taking his face into your hands, his skin literally burning underneath your fingertips.
“No, Y/N, this stupid bastard has to understand that you can‘t just go and treat women like absolute dirt and get away with it”, Iwaizumi moves out of your soft touch, making Rin shift his attention back on you before the deep voice of one of his friends cuts through the tension.
“What the fuck is he talking about, Rin? Do you know her?”, the blonde says, his tone rather degrading when talking about you and at the way his eyes roam your body with a rather opposed expression show you exactly why that‘s the case.
“N-No, I don‘t!”, he‘s quick to defend himself, his eyes shifting to his friends with sheer panic filling the dark color and you feel your heart sink and the disgusting feeling of shame rushing through your veins.
“You‘re such a fucking piece of shit, Rin”, you hiss and swallow your tears; the taste bitter as the realization of being sometjing to be ashamed of hits you yet again.
“You definitely weren‘t acting like this when you fucked me”, you add and roll your eyes, taking a step back as the anger overcomes you and you basically give Iwaizumi a silent free pass to do whatever the hell he needs to, “or better said – when you tried to. It wasn‘t like I came with your weak dick game anyway so..”
“You fucked that fat bitch? Oh, yikes”, the other friend suddenly says, his words hitting you in the face like literal bricks and before you can even take your next breath or shift your eyes to the face the voice belongs to, the guy suddenly falls to the floor, holding his bloody nose.
You let out a shocked gasp, your eyes falling to Hanamaki who‘s busy shaking his hand, his knuckles already reddened and slightly bruised as he looks at you with a satisfied grin, “no one gets to call my best friend a bitch.”
“I was full on drunk and- do you really think I‘d fuck her sober?”, Rin tries to talk himself out of it and with a cold chuckle you throw your head back.
“How the fuck dare you talk to her like that”, is the last thing Iwaizumi spits before he throws his fist right into Rin‘s face with a deep grunt.
Another loud shriek escapes your lips and suddenly the anger and anxiety seem to leave your body and a huge wave of adrenaline hits you at the sight of your ex-hook up falling to the floor and Iwaizumi quickly moving with him.
For what feels like a whole hour but is probably nothing longer than a minute, you‘re literally frozen; your eyes the only moving part of your body as you watch your best friends break their knuckles on the jaws of literal strangers to them.
The following hour passes by in a blur. You can‘t really remember how or who separated them from those guys, or how you got yourself to call an uber and manage to get the four of you to your flat.
By the time the adrenaline stops making the blood rush in your ear, you‘re taking care of Matsukawa‘s wounds with shaky hands; the two others holding ice packs to their faces to ease the swelling of their bruises.
“Stop sighing so much”, Iwaizumi suddenly says, his dark eyes focusing the movements of your hands before he looks at you with a slightly softer expression, “we did what we had to do. And I‘m glad we did it. Those guys already looked so fucking punchable”, he explains and with a scolding scoff you press your lips to a thin line.
“You‘re back in Japan for how long? Two days? Yet already got yourself in trouble, a physical fight at that, Hajime. You‘re not your High School self anymore, start behaving that way, please”, you reply and hand Mattsun a plastic bag filled with ice cubes, softly caressing his bruised cheek before you stand up from your place on the floor.
“You got yourself one hell of a mouth while I was gone, huh?”, he replies cockily, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue before he follows you into the bathroom.
You feel your body heating up at his words, the sexual tension laying underneath the surface slowly finding its way to you again and with a soft sigh, you ignore the brunette.
“How was I supposed to let him say all those things to you and not do anything, Y/N?”, Iwaizumi replies, a pouty word of gratitude leaving his lips when you take his big hand into yours and start cleaning up the blood on his bruised knuckles.
You try your best to stop your thoughts from wandering to sinful places yet images of those pretty, tattooed fingers wrapped around your throat and knuckle deep buried inside of your cunt have already filled your mind by the time you lower your gaze from his face.
“I‘m used to-”, “That does not make it okay, Y/N”, your best friend suddenly says, taking your chin in between his fingers to lift your head and look at you with those beautiful, dark green eyes.
“You deserve so, so much better and I‘m glad I can finally tell you this in person after all those years. Please stop letting douches like him take advantage of you”, he sighs, taking your hands into his and pulling you a little bit closer to himself.
“It‘s that or Matsukawa‘s cock and I‘d rather have a stranger emotionally pain me than my best friend, so-”, “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”, Iwaizumi interrupts you harshly, your words obviously irritating him.
“After my last boyfriend dumped me a year ago I‘ve only had casual flings because I got tired of using my hand to get off and Matsukawa offered to take care of it instead. But then again, it‘s just a lot less complicated with a stranger than it is with your best friend, that‘s why I‘m putting up with shit like this”, you explain to him and walk back into the living room where Mattsun and Makki are currently busy with your leftover take out from the previous night.
“So if it wasn‘t for that, you‘d let him fuck you?”, Iwaizumi‘s tone has turned cold again, the softness gone and replaced by something a little thicker and more intense than anger. And when you turn around to look at him, you see literal jealousy gleaming in the green color surrounding his iris, basically leaving you speechless.
“Why do you even care, Iwa?”, you reply, dramatically throwing your hands into the air as his tensed demeanor sends you in some kind of haze of irritation.
“Answer my fucking question, Y/N”, is all you get in response; the brunette closing the distance between the two of you with a few small steps and it‘s the lack of space between your faces that has you realizing just how unevenly he‘s breathing.
Your heart starts slamming against your rib cage with rather brutal pace, your head spinning from the sudden adrenaline shooting through your body and on top of all of it you feel your cunt clenching around nothing like crazy as Iwaizumi’s heavy scent fills your nose.
“Yes”, you say and feel your voice breaking, “yes, I would fuck Matsukawa because why not? Hm, Iwaizumi? There‘s nothing else stopping me from it other than-”, “You can‘t and won‘t fuck him”, he suddenly interrupts your outburst, his expression as dark as ever as he softly pushes you against wall.
“I think this is the moment where we‘re supposed to leave”, Makki mumbles, pulling Mattsun from the couch before they gather their things and leave the two of you to yourself.
As the silence surrounds the two of you, the tension grows even thicker, heavier, more present than before and with every breath you take you feel yourself growing more and more aroused.
“And why is that, hm? I can and will fuck whoever I want”, you spit back, trying so hard ot not let the arousal get to your head yet the disgusting urge to submit to Iwaizumi‘s naturally dominant personality slowly starts overwhelming you.
Hajime chuckles deeply, his eyes lazily roaming your face, pressing his strong body even further against yours as your head starts spinning more and more with every second passing by.
“Iwa…”, you whimper softly, throwing your head back and harshly digging gripping the soft fabric of his shirt; the close contact makes you a lot more nervous than before.
He slowly takes a deep breath before he bends down to let his nose graze your jawline, and eventually letting his mouth find its way to your ear.
“Because no one can fuck you like I can, pretty one”, Iwaizumi whispers, his voice a whole octave deeper than just a few seconds before and you hate the way every single one of his words sends a single, hot jolt of arousal right into your core.
“And”, you hear him inhale sharply, his hands finding their way to your hips, groping the soft flesh firmly in his palms before he takes a short break and then pulls away to look at you again, “no one can love you like I can.”
At the sound of those words, your eyes snap open within a second your heart skips a literal beat.
“W-What?”, you whisper, your throat completely dried up, your head desperately trying to process what he’s just said and just as your body is about to fall into some kind of haze, you feel yourself drowning in a wave of anxiety at the thought of having misheard him.
“I love you, Y/N”, Iwaizumi says just when those thoughts are about to take over you.
“Ha-Hajime…”, you mumble; your bottom lip starts to quiver as tears pricker at the corners of your eyes, the first few finding their way down your cheek in an instant.
A few seconds of silence pass in which you two just look at each other, Iwaizumi’s pupils blown out, cheeks tinted in the deepest shade of red and plump lips parted as he also tries to understand what just happened.
After all these years of imagining what it might be like to hear these kind of words from the love of your life, it’s finally become reality and the longer you look at him, the lighter the weight on your chest becomes.
“I’m sorry if I ruined our friendship with this but I just – couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. When I was in America I had promised myself to confess as soon as possible when I’m back so here I am. Those men don’t deserve you. Neither do I but I would have hated myself forever if I didn’t at least try. So”, he finishes his sudden explanation with another deep exhale before he takes a step back, his glossy eyes wandering from yours down to the floor, “thank you for everything and please take care.”
And fortunately your body acts a lot faster than your mind because while you still try to process his soft, sweet words – the words you’ve been dying to hear for so, so long – you find yourself tightening your grip on his shirt and pulling him back into you with a soft sob.
“I love you, too”, you whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as your eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming warmth coming from his body.
“Fuck, baby”, Iwaizumi chuckles breathlessly, wrapping his arms around your body and burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m one lucky bastard, aren’t I?”
You smile brightly at his genuine and soft words, the feeling of coming home – a place you’ve longed for literal years – slowly breaks down onto you in the form of waves and for the first time in a really long time, you don’t mind being overwhelmed like that.
“So that means that you’re mine now?”, Iwaizumi whispers, pulling away and taking your face into his big hands, the smell of blood grazing your nose yet easily gets overshadowed by the way he’s looking at you as if you were holding the whole world in your hands.
You nod and move further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of being so safe and secure in one’s hands after not even feeling comfortable with anyone in years.
“T-Thank you for loving me, Iwa”, you gulp harshly, looking at him with teary eyes at the memory of all those who had managed to break your heart in the past years.
“No, baby”, he sighs, pressing the softest kiss right onto your lips, “thank you for letting me love you. When I say you’re literally everything I’ve ever dreamed of, I’m not even exaggerating because that’s what you are to me. A dream come true”, those are the last words Hajime mumbles before he pulls you into a proper kiss; not giving you the opportunity to reply.
The kiss starts off slow and calm. As if both of you were still trying to understand that this was actually happening because despite the hesitant movements, neither of you can hide the intense hunger lingering underneath every soft peck.
Iwaizumi, just as usual, lacks the patience to keep it going like that, not even trying to take it easier for even longer as he pulls your chin down and calmly pushes his tongue into your mouth, easily eliciting a soft moan from you. Your fingers find home in his brown curls, pulling at the thick strands and finally making him grunt right against your tongue; the deep sound sending vibrations and sweet little jolts of excitement through your whole body.
You slowly feel his hands wander; first starting off caressing your back, groping the soft flesh of your waist as well as the fingers of his right hand softly digging into your skin and for a second. You allow yourself to fall deeper and deeper into the perfect feeling of his touch until suddenly a mental image of his most recent ex-girlfriend pops up in your head and you stop functioning completely.
Iwaizumi lets his lips wander down your chin, placing a row of open mouthed kisses on your jaw before he moves to your neck and pulls the sensitive skin into his mouth without wasting another minute. The feeling of his hot tongue on your skin has your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you desperately try to distract yourself from your anxiety‘s attempt to ruin this for you.
You let out a soft whimper when Hajime wraps one of his big hands around one of your tits, harshly groping the flesh while rubbing his hard, clothed cock against your thick thigh.
His deep grunts and needy touches have you ruining your panties in no time to the point where the lacey fabric is literally sticking to your hot flesh in a rather uncomfortable way.
“Need you, baby”, Iwaizumi grunts, the movements of his hips rather sloppy and rushed yet so, so genuine and sweet, you can‘t help but smile softly.
“You got me, Haji”, you reply and take his handsome face into your hands, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs, “I‘m all yours.”
“Fuck, baby”, he moans and suddenly pulls away, his hands finding their way to the hem of your dress before he meets your eyes and wordlessly asks for your consent.
You give him a quick nod, pushing the voice of your anxiety all the way to the back of your head as Hajime slowly pushes the fabric up your thighs, revealing more and more skin before his eyes roll into the back of his eyes at the sight of your black lace panties.
He doesn‘t waste much time; quickly pulling the rest of it over your head and then taking a whole step back to let his greedy eyes roam your body with lust and nothing but adoration.
And when you realize your current, exposed state you take a deep breath to hold those insecurities back, however they‘re a lot faster than you are.
You nervously try to cover your naked body with your arms. Just the thought of him finding you and your body disgusting breaks your heart into pieces and with shivers of shame rushing down your spine, you lower your gaze.
“L-Look, I know it‘s not what you‘re used to and I- you don‘t have to touch me. I can just suck your cock or give you a handjob if you feel more comfortable that way”, you say, your voice a mere whisper and eventually breaking at the end when you give in to the tears.
“Baby…”, Iwaizumi sighs, pain evident in the tone of his voice. He calmly takes your wrists into his big hands before he pulls your arms away from your body, softly asking you to look at him and after what feels like an eternity, you manage to lift your head only to be met with nothing but warm, dark green eyes.
“You‘re fucking perfect”, he whispers and places a tiny little kiss on your lips, leaving you longing for more as he pulls away right afterwards, “there‘s literally nothing I would change about you.”
At the sound of those sweet words, you simply cannot hold back your tears any longer. You look at Iwaizumi with a quivering bottom lip as you let out a row of soft sobs; digging your nails into the skin of his wrists because you simply don‘t know what else to do.
For the first time in your life, your brain isn‘t protesting against a compliment and you know if it wasn‘t for him, there would be no way you‘d believe it.
“B-But your ex-girlfriends are the exact opposite and-”, “They don‘t matter, baby. You‘re you and it‘s all I could have asked for. I‘m in love with every part of your body and that has never been any different”, Iwaizumi interrupts you with his calm voice, placing his hands on your waist before one of them finds its way to your barely clothed ass.
“But-”, “No more buts”, the brunette says, a lot sterner and more determined, groping the flesh of your ass and then landing a firm spank on the soft flesh which has you whimpering into the crook of his neck.
Iwaizumi chuckles and pulls you into another deep kiss, sucking at your tongue, nibbling on your bottom lip all while his hands make sure to graze every bit of naked skin they can find. He pushes his leg in between your thighs, pressing it right against your cunt and without even wasting another second you find yourself grinding against the strong muscle. The fabric of his jeans rubs your throbbing clit in the best way possible, eliciting a row of needy whimpers from you.
You feel yourself soaking through the fabric of our lace panties and you know you‘re currently leaving a huge stain on Iwaizumi‘s pants but the pleasure clouding your mind makes it so easy to just ignore it.
“What a needy girl you are, baby”, Hajime mumbles, caressing the slightly dampened skin of cheeks with his thumb before he moves to graze your bottom lip and eventually pushes the digit into your open mouth.
Your lids fly open at the taste of his skin on your tongue, twirling the muscle around his thumb and then sucking on it softly, followed by some muffled moans of his name.
Iwaizumi watches you attentively for what feels like an eternity. His beautiful eyes wandering from the way you‘re rubbing your clunt against his clothed thigh to your perky nipples and then up to the way your lips look wrapped around his thumb like that and from the way his expression keeps growing darker and even hungrier, you know he‘s more than just enjoying your despair.
“I want to spit in your mouth”, he says, using the dominant tone you‘re oh so used to at this point and there‘s no way you‘d ever say no to him.
Something about being claimed in such a lewd way by the man you‘ve been dreaming of for years has you grinding your pussy into his thigh even harder; making sure to hit your clit with every rushed drag of your hips.
“Yes, p-please, Daddy”, you beg, not even overthinking any of your words as you part your lips and look at him with big, needy eyes.
When you notice the rather shocked and slightly overwhelmed expression on Iwaizumi‘s face, you gulp harshly, tilting your head to the side with your lips pushed into a concerned pout.
“What‘s wrong, Iwa?”, you whisper, way too scared of his response.
“You called me Daddy”, he replies and licks his plump lips, whereas you freeze completely at his comment.
“D-Did I? I‘m so sorry, Iwa”, the apology falls past your lips almost instantly at the realization because you know that not every guy is comfortable with such dynamic and even if Hajime definitely has a natural dominance to his personality, you should have waited a little longer before bringing this particular kink up.
“None of my boyfriends liked it and I don‘t like using it with completely strangers so I g-guess I just feel really safe with you and it slipped and I- oh, God, I‘m so sorry.”
You pull away from Iwaizumi with shaky hands, tears threatening to spill for the nth time within such a short period and you try your best to look everywhere but his eyes.
However, Iwaizumis seems to have other plans.
He takes your chin into his hand and pulls your face closer, nudges your nose with his own and then sucks your bottom lip into his mouth; making you whimper rather loudly.
“Say it again, baby”, he whispers, “tell Daddy how badly you want his spit.”
As his words echo inside of your brain, you let out a loud, high pitched whine, harshly trying to press your thigh further together ss the throbbing of your cunt becomes unbearable.
“Please, Daddy”, you reply, pushing his hand down to your neck and smiling softly when he wraps his pretty fingers around your throat, feeding right into every single fantasy you‘ve been imagining for so long, “spit in my mouth and on my cunt, I don‘t care. I just need it.”
“Good girl”, Iwa growls softly, “open up then, pretty one.”
You part your lips almost automatically at the sound of his demand, sticking your tongue out slightly and looking up at him with anticipation and such eagerness, if it wasn‘t for him, you would have never been as comfortable as this.
Iwaizumi smirks at you, keeping his grip on your throat firm but not too tight as he gathers his own saliva and spits into your mouth with a loud, lewd sound that sends shivers of pleasure straight down your spine and right into your core.
You can‘t stop your lips from stretching into a big smile when his taste coats the muscle of your tongue, swallowing it all in one go before you open your mouth yet again to show him it‘s all gone.
“Good fucking girl”, Iwaizumi praises you softly, caressing your cheek before he lets fo of your throat, “I got myself a perfect little doll, hm?”
“Thank you, Daddy”, you reply quickly, the intense urge to obey to his every word and submit to his every move absolutely overwhelming at this point, but you would never want it any other way.
“Look at you, using your manners for me. You‘re welcome, princess. What about a little reward for being so good for me, baby? Wanna sit on my face so I can eat that pretty pussy of yours?”, Iwaizumi takes you hand into his, intertwining his fingers with yours before he guides you to the couch, letting himself fall into the soft cushion whereas you try your best not to panic at his words.
Of course the thought of having his mouth on your cunt is more than just tempting but you've never sat on a guy‘s face before; the fear of literally suffocating him with your weight making it impossible for you to even think about it.
“C-Can‘t you just eat me out like this, Daddy?”, you whisper, looking down to meet Iwa‘s hungry gaze and stopping him from pulling your panties any further down your thighs.
“I‘m too heavy”, the explanation follows right away, not wanting him to think it has anything to do with him or his wishes, “I don‘t want to hurt you.”
“Baby, I want you to sit on my face so I can eat your pretty pussy. That‘s it”, Iwaizumi says, his right hand finding the clasp of your bra and quickly getting rid of it before he takes both of your tits into his big hands; toying with your nipples and attentively watching the way your gasps grow louder with every pull on the perky buds, “you don‘t have to if you don‘t want to but don‘t you dare worry about me because this has been a dream of mine for literal years. Oh, how badly I want to be squished by those pretty, thick thighs of yours – you have no idea.”
“I want to! It’s just that I’ve never done this before. A-Are you sure? Please don‘t think you have to want this to make me feel better, I‘m okay with whatever you‘re comfortable with”, you whisper, not trusting your voice when you suddenly feel Iwaizumi‘s fingers tracing patterns on the inside of your thighs.
“Enough of this, pretty one”, his words are accompanied by a firm spank on your naked ass cheek; the pain of the sting leaving your pussy a spasming mess and with a soft moan you tighten your grip in his hair, “now sit on my face or I won’t fuck you.”
“N-No! Daddy, I‘m sorry, I promise I‘ll be good”, you whine quickly letting go of him so he can lay on his back only for Iwaizumi to get rid of his black shirt; revealing his strong, well trained body and all those dark lines adorning his tanned skin to your hungry eyes.
It takes you a few good seconds to gain enough confidence to actually spread your legs over his face, your whole body shaking with nervousness. But once Iwaizumi wraps his strong arms around your thighs and pulls your body even further down to his face, you slowly start easing up.
The feeling of his hot breath fanning against the wet flesh of your cunt sends goosebumps down your back. And the sight of his pretty face between your thick thighs, something you‘ve always been so insecure about, seems to slowly take a place as one of your favorite images to ever exist.
“Look me in the eyes, baby”, Iwaizumi mumbles and sucks at the skin of your inner thigh, his tongue on your skin making more and more juices gush out of your already drenched cunt as you allow yourself to meet his hungry gaze.
And just when your eyes meet, Iwaizumi sticks his tongue out and licks a long stripe over the hor flesh of your pussy before he gently pulls your little clit into his mouth and starts sucking on it.
You let out a loud groan; the sudden stimulation on your needy clit sending literal shock waves of pleasure through your body and without even realizing you slowly grind yourself further against his mouth.
Iwaizumi moans into your flesh, the deep bass of his voice sending vibrations right into your core, making your cunt clench even harder around nothing and if it wasn‘t for the intensity of his stare, you would have looked away already. Yet just as usual, there‘s something about the way he looks at you which has you feeling at literal ease – even in such a situation.
“Come on, baby”, Iwaizumi suddenly grunts, letting go of the sensitive bud with a loud sound before placing an open mouthed kiss on your clit and landing a harsh spank on your ash which has your body jolting in antica, “don’t be shy now. Ride my face like the good girl you are, make me proud…”, he adds softly, his words encouraging you easily and with a sound of affirmation, you start grinding your hips to meet the hot muscle of his tongue.
The following minutes are filled with loud slurping noises, high pitched moans and deep grunts as well as more words of affirmation and encouragement all while Iwaizumi continues to switch between thrusting his tongue into your tight hole and sucking on your clit before he eventually starts fingerfucking you with two of his thick digits.
You can't help but throw your head back at the immense amount of pleasure; your body and mind slowly reaching a point of complete haze as you lose yourself in the feeling of his touch.
And by the time you finally feel the taste of your high coating the tip of your tongue, your grip on Iwaizumi‘s hair tightens and a row of loud, choked out begs fall past your bit swollen lips.
“Look at your greedy little pussy clenching around my fingers like that”, Iwa chuckles deeply, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he keeps his mouth way too close to your throbbing little clit, “and those pretty begs. Gosh, baby, you‘re going to drive me insane.”
“S-So close, Daddy”, you choke out, your eyes flying open when you feel a third finger joining the two inside of your tight cunt, the pain of the stretch in combination with the pleasure of your upcoming high making your head spin.
“There we go, that‘s my baby”, he takes a deep breath and starts kneading the soft flesh of your ass in his palms, “want you to cum all over my fucking face. Show me what a good fucking girl you are.”
And those are the last words your brain manages to register before you feel the first wave of your orgasm hit you. Your sight turns pitch black and then white for a good second, your whole body tensing up at the feeling of coil in your core finally snapping.
Your thighs are shaking, your breath continuously hitching as you desperately try to regain your composure and if it wasn‘t for Iwaizumi‘s touch on your sensitive pussy, you‘d stay in the beautiful haze of your orgasm.
“You came so hard for me, baby”, Iwaizumi grins and pushes his fingers into his mouth before you finally find enough energy to get off of his face.
“W-Want more”, you whisper, your voice raspy and breathy as you tell him your request; low-key scared of being too greedy yet at the sight of Iwaizumi‘s eyes sparkling with excitement, you know he‘s not one to deny you anything. He‘s never been, after all.
“How about we move this to your bedroom, baby? I‘ve been dying to press your face into the mattress and ruin that little pussy of yours.” You feel a jolt of excitement blooming inside your chest at his words, nodding eagerly before you reach for his hand and guide him down the hall to your bedroom.
“Do you want me to suck you off?”, you say when the two of you come to stand in your room, your eyes focusing on the huge bulge in his pants, which manages to scare you slightly with its impressive size.
You always knew your best friend wasn‘t on the smaller side when it came to size yet you still can‘t hide just how surprised you are by its actual size. And suddenly the three fingers make a lot more sense to you.
“Let‘s save that for another time, pretty one. I‘ve been dreaming about pumping your cute little hole full of my cum for way too long. I can‘t wait any longer”, Iwaizumi replies and finally starts unbuckling his belt.
You take the few seconds he‘s busy to let your eyes admire the beauty of his perfectly sculpted body. You follow the dark lines of his chest tattoo, take in the sight of his stone hard abs and veiny arms as you press your thighs even more together to ease some of the pressure on your cunt.
“Are you done eyefucking me, pretty one?”, Iwaizumi suddenly chuckles, casually pushing his jeans as well as his boxer briefs down his meaty thighs and exposing his hard cock for your hungry eyes to devour.
He wraps his pretty fingers around his throbbing length, the tip an angry shade of red as precum continues to leak out; making your mouth water at the mere thought of having him in your mouth.
“Everything about you is so pretty”, you sigh and look into his eyes, the genuine appreciation in the green surrounding his iris making your heart grow warmer before he comes to stand in front of you in all of his glory.
“I love you so much”, Iwaizumi replies calmly, taking your face into his big hands before he places the softest kiss on your forehead.
“I love you, too”, you mumble and get up, pressing your lips against his and sighing into his mouth when he pushes his tongue past your lips without missing a beat.
Just when Iwaizumi starts letting his hands wander over your naked body, he halts his movements and pulls away slightly, “my pretty little baby, make sure to face the mirror so you can watch while I fuck your brains out. I want you to see just how perfect you are.”
“Yes, Daddy”, you whisper, your lips stretched into a big, big smile as you move out of his strong grip to position yours on your knees just as you were told.
Your heart suddenly starts racing again when you bury your face in your arms, making sure to push your ass as high as possible to give Iwaizumi easy access to your glistening cut. The excitement in combination with the pleasure and deep, deep longing finally manage to take over your brain; shoving the anxiety alongside all those insecurities to the very back of your head and making it easy for you to put your whole focus on the tll male behind you.
Iwaizumi’s rough hands caress your bare ass softly, kneading the flesh and lightly spanking it a few times before he lets a thick drop of his spit fall right onto your clenching pussy; sending goosebumps down your back at the feeling of it sliding down your flesh and mixing with your leaking juices.
You feel the tip of his thick cock nudging your entrance, the memory of his size making you tense up subconsciously and just when you’re about to hold your breath, Iwaizumi’s deep, calming voice echoes through the silence of your room.
“Take a deep breath, baby”, he whispers, knowing you’re going to follow his orders just like the good girl you love to be, “Daddy’s got you, okay? I’m gonna go easy, I promise.”
You lift your head to meet his comforting gaze through the mirror in front of you and without another beat passing, you feel yourself calming down again; the feeling of being absolutely safe and secure in his hand making it the easiest task.
And when Iwaizumi feels the tension in your body easing up, he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes his thick tip into your tight hole. You whimper at the delicious stretch, the pain easily overshadowed by the sound of Iwaizumi’s heavy breathing and little moans.
“I’m gonna go all in, baby or else it’s going to hurt a lot more”, you appreciate his warning because as he’s saying it, Iwaizumi thrusts the whole of his impressive length into your spasming cunt; pushing every bit of air out of your lungs and pushing you way too close to your second high of the night. You can’t help but whimper loudly, tears already streaming down your cheeks because of the beautiful feeling of pain and pleasure mixing inside of your veins from the intensity of the stretch.
Iwaizumi, as always the gentleman, gives you all the time you need to adjust to his size; only growing slightly impatient as you still whine softly after two whole minutes yet you’re quick to lift your head again with quivering bottom lip and teary eyes, begging him to just fuck you.
“Please, Daddy”, you sob, moving away from him in a desperate attempt for some kind of friction; your cunt spasming around his thick cock like crazy and you know you’re only a few thrust and some clit stimulation away from your next high, “please, fuck me.”
“My greedy little whore”, Iwaizumi grunts, pulling his cock out of you astonishingly slow with the sole purpose of teasing you, “you’re going to take what Daddy gives you, did you hear me?”
You moan as the feeling of his tip dragging alongside your spongy walls, your eyes rolling into the back of your head only to find your way back to reality with a couple of harsh spanks on your already sore ass.
“Good sluts answer when being talked to, pretty one”, he warns, thrusting his cock back into you with one quick snap of his hips; burying himself balls deep inside of your overly sensitive cunt.
“Yes, Daddy, yes”, you cry and look up at him with glossy eyes, “just please, fuck my stupid little cunt, please.” Iwaizumi lets out a row of deep chuckles followed by raspy groans in response to your perfect answer before he nods at you and mumbles a few soft praises right into your ear and then straightens himself again.
“Alright then, pretty one.”
Loud grunts fill your ears so beautifully, echoing through the thick air of your bedroom and in combination with the sound of skin meeting skin in a constant rhythm, you feel the exact way your body is slowly falling into the beautiful bliss of another high.
Iwaizumi fucks you fast, harsh and rough. There’s nothing soft and romantic about the way his hips are meeting yours in a steady rhythm; making sure to hit that sweet spot deep inside of your pussy with every single one of his thrusts as he continues to use his whole strength on your burning ass.
But not once do you even think about telling him to go easier on you; this iwaizumi the one you’ve been imagining for all those years.
It doesn’t take long for him to wrap his strong arm around your chest to pull you up, his fingers also finding their way back home around your delicate throat.
“Look at you, baby”, he groans right into your ear, making you open your eyes and meet your own reflection in the mirror, “you’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t comprehend it.”
You stare at yourself with your lips parted in awe, eyes falling to the sight of Iwaizumi’s thick cock stretching your tiny cunt before you go back to trying to recognize yourself.
Because for the first time in literal years, you don’t hate what you see and even if it’s because of IWaizumi’s strong body right behind you, you still feel this certain type of warmth blossoming in your chest.
"Feels so good, baby", he groans, throwing his head back as the movements of his hips start to become slightly sloppier, a little more uncontrolled, "so tight and warm, so fucking perfect", Hajime’s voice breaks at the end of his soft praise because of your walls clenching around his cock even more the closer you get to the edge.
You start feeling dizzy, your sight turning into a blurr and at some point you can’t even in- or exhale without letting out a shaky moan.
Iwaizumi looks at you with wide, hungry eyes, the feeling of your walls gripping his cock like a goddamn vice sending him into an ecstatic state and the longer he watches you getting lost in the pleasure, the more he struggles to keep his rhythm.
You’re mumbling incoherent sentences, desperately trying to tell the brunette about how close you are whereas the pleasure makes it absolutely impossible for you to form a proper sentence.
“Are you going to cum for me again, baby?”, Iwaizumi grunts, tightening his grip on your throat, making you gasp for air as you nod in response to his question.
“My perfect little slut”, he sighs, his hand reaching down to rub your hard, throbbing clit with two of his rough digits, “fucking do it. Cum for your Daddy like the good whore you are.”
And just like a few minutes prior, those words are the last straw and eventually make you stumble over the edge head first. Your walls start spasming around Iwa’s cock like crazy, your loud moans and soft cries are the only thing he can focus on and without missing another minute, Iwaizumi also lets himself get consumed by the beautiful feeling of relief.
Iwa hips still, his cock buried deeply inside of your tight sex as he coats your walls with his creamy cum. Your new boyfriend gets lost in the feeling of finally getting to cum inside of you after waiting for so many years; feeding the fantasy of getting to claim you in the most intimate way possible.
He buries his face in the sweaty crook of your neck, his rapid breath fanning your skin as the two of you try to calm down from your intense highs. Your hand finds its way into his dark hair, massaging his scalp with your eyes closed and your legs still shaking from the aftermath of your breathtaking orgasm. Without pulling out of you, despite his own release leaking out of you and down the sides of his cock, Iwaizumi makes you lay down with him; just tightly holding you in his arms.
A few minutes filled with nothing but soft breathing pass by before you finally find the strength to move again; the sudden need to look at Iwaizumi’s completely fucked out face overwhelming you in the best way possible. And when you turn around to look at him, you’re met with a breathtaking sight.
Messy strands of sweaty hair falling into his flushed face, swollen lips and glossy eyes sparkling at you in a way you’ve never seen before and in that moment you feel yourself falling in love with Iwaizumi all over again.
“I’m so in love with you”, you whisper and caress the soft skin of his cheeks, loving the way he moves even further into your touch.
“Always and forever only yours, pretty one”, Iwaizumi sighs and presses his forehead against yours.
࿏ A/N: And here it finally is! My first x chubby reader fic!! As a chubby someone who’s been reading fanficion for a long time, I’ve always craved some kind of representation and now I finally got to join this side of the community and I’m more than just happy about the way it turned out. I genuinely hope you guys will enjoy this and find comfort the same way I did while writing this. Please feel free to leave any sort of feedback if you enjoyed it and thank you so much for everything.
#haikyuu smut#Iwaizumi x female reader#Iwaizumi x chubby reader#haikyuu x reader#Iwaizumi smut#iwaizumi hajime#haikyuu!! smut#hq!! smut#hq!! x reader#hq!! x female reader#haikyuu#haikyuu scenarios#kyovtani#💌.chubby reader#💌.for iwa lovers
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natural love potion; h.p.
Pairing: harry potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader
Timeline: HBP / 6th year
Warning(s): cussing, mentions of dying and blood, submission, reader pining
Word Count: 5k
A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever post. I would love to hear your thoughts!
Harry and Y/N are friends. Just friends. Much like Harry and Hermione, there is nothing out of it that is going on between them. Not until that day in potions.
—
“Are you done with my potion?“
“You mean, will Professor Slughorn call you by your name? Then yes, Wallenby.“
It was the first week of another year at Hogwarts. New faces, new prefects and even new professors are introduced, as usual. Professor Slughorn is the newest addition to the faculty and to have a good first impression with the students, he's given the 6th years Amortentia, the love potion, as their first Potions homework.
They were supposed to put it in their selected food or drink and it had to be unnoticeable. Why would the Potions Teacher assign this kind of homework to the students? No one knows. But this certainly gave him a good first impression to a large number of students.
“Blimey Harry, we've been rotten at Potions ever since. Now look at you, it's as if you've taken private lessons with Snape the whole summer. You’re the bloody Potions Master in our year now!“
The two Gryffindors are making their way out of their dorm room towards the Common Room with Harry holding a small basket of cookies to bring it in the dungeons where the potions classroom is at. Y/N is patiently waiting for them near the Portrait as several students greet her along the way.
"G'morning."
“Where’s ‘Mione?“ Ron exclaimed without even acknowledging the girl’s presence.
“Uhm, shouldn't you know that, Mr Prefect?"
The male prefect then realized the time and his supposed agenda to escort first years to the Great Hall. Harry scolded him of how much he and others would kill to be in his position and yet he’s never given it any importance.
“Godric, have mercy on me. Hermione’s gonna kill me!” the redhead exclaimed after getting a playful slap behind his head from the Chosen One before rushing away from the two.
“Much worse than that, she’s gonna make him expelled,“ she jokes with a mouthful of cookie from the small basket Harry was holding. "Mhm, you have no idea how badly I've been craving cookies since last week! This is good, Har. Where’d ya buy it?“
Harry, before realizing what happens, freezes. He was too busy lecturing his best friend that he didn't notice a hand sneaking into his potion, the cookie. His hand slowly snakes its way to the contents of the basket that has supposedly four cookies but now has only three. “Y/N!“
"What?" she chuckles dreamily.
"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."
“What for? You put poison in it, didn't you?“ Y/N continues to chuckle dreamily.
Harry stares at his friend as if she was some peculiar experiment. “How are you feeling, Y/N?“
“I feel like . . .“ she sighs dramatically as she gazes far away, mesmerized. The effects are plainly obvious. “I feel like falling.“
“Falling?“ Harry's stomach twisted. This is what makes Potions classes bothersome, the uncertainty of knowing whether the potion you brew is right or wrong. You can only know it if you’re a professional or by testing the potion done, which in Harry’s case, Y/N would do for him.
"I'm falling in love, Harry. I'm falling in love with you."
And boy was he really the Potions Master.
The raven-haired boy's cheeks got warm the second those words escaped his friend's lips. The two are only friends and have never acted more than that. Seeing this new side of Y/N for Harry is too foreign for him.
Sure, Harry has seen her date two boys from different houses, but being the recipient of her romantic antics has never crossed his path. His last romantical relationship, if you can call it that, was last year with the senior Ravenclaw Cho Chang. Even that didn't go well. He went on a single date with her just to make her believe he's in love with both Hermione and Y/N. Ever since then, he never thought about committing to any romantic relationship.
"Harry . . ." Y/N's hand reached out for his arm, grazing down slowly towards his hand with too much delicacy. Their hands are now intertwined. The both of them have never reached this close proximity, having learned now that one of his best friend's palms are soft but slightly calloused in the fingertips from playing muggle instruments and Harry fears that when Ron finds out about this act, he will tease them nonstop which isn't fair for Y/N. ". . . I know this may sound all too sudden, but, I have loved you ever since."
He didn't respond. He tries to block all of this sudden affection out of his mind knowing these are all artificial.
"Don't you love me back?"
"Of course I do. You're my best frie-"
If his cheeks were warm, now, his ears as well are on fire. Y/N has thrown herself to the flustered boy, locking his neck and face in her arms, squealing in happiness like a kid. Holding hands is a new thing for The Boy Who Lived but hugging him as if to let the world know he's someone's is another thing.
Very few people have ever hugged him in all the history of his 16 years of existence, knowing the story of his parents and the lack thereof. His godfather, Mrs Weasley and Hermione are the only ones — as far as he knows — written in a tiny piece of parchment of the list of people who have hugged him. Yet none of them could compare to this hug as those mentioned acted parental towards him.
Students are now starting to pass them out of the Common Room towards the Great Hall. One of those shouted, "get a room!" They're still standing just beside the Portrait Hole where Ron has left them both to deal with his own romance.
"Uhm, Y/N, why don't we go get ourselves some breakfast first, yes?"
"Yes! Let's tell 'Mione and Ron that we're finally together!"
—
Breakfast was agonizingly slow, to Harry's opinion. Y/N can't stop giggling beside him and feeding him like an infant earning them attention from the others.
"Oi, Potter! Didn't know that you two are . . ."" Seamus makes a kissing face earning a few cackles and sniggers from their other friends at the table.
The boy just ignored them with an eye roll, amusing the two friends in front of him.
"Leave them be, Harry. Besides, when was the time Y/N acted on you this way, huh?" They all diverted their gaze to the dazed girl. Eyebrows knitted in concentration as she feeds him but at the same time doing her best to get as close to Harry as the universe could possibly give her the opportunity to. They've never seen her this in love and affectionate. And the two thought that Harry just deserves it even just for a while. "Never, right? You better make it worthwhile."
"Thanks, Ron. Really helpful." He answered with his famous eye-roll.
"Always here for you, mate "
"I just don't get why we couldn't tell Professor Slughorn immediately. I mean, I'm sure he has something for Y/N. Or Madam Pomfrey-"
"Yeah? In which I'm sure is also your easiest ticket to detention."
The boy grunts some incoherent words of profanities under his breath. Not only was he getting embarrassed by the fact that one of his close friends is acting like his girlfriend but dragging Y/N along with his catastrophic life is just too unfair on her side. She didn't ask for this. Plus, detention in the second week of a new school year doesn't sound good.
The Brightest Witch reminded them not to take Potions lightly. It may sound like not the most helpful subject in a wizarding war, but can get you expelled once meddled with students. In short, what happened to Y/N is very illegal. You should not use or test your Potions project with another student. Plus, Filch will go nuts if he gets the news that a student gave another student a love potion.
“Well, at least, now we know that your Potion worked well.”
"Come on, we're going to be late for DADA."
On their way towards Snape's classroom — a fact Harry still can't accept — Y/N's fingers are interlaced with Harry's as they walk. She's given him her bag as that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do. In the classroom, Y/N didn't sit in her usual spot but literally kicked Ron out of his chair to sit beside Harry, the boy just mouths a sorry.
Her usual focus from the class was now inclined to Harry himself alone the whole class. Out of all their major subjects, Harry is known to have the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on top of it all. Y/N knows it, having been a member of Dumbledore's Army. Everybody knows it. But with Snape being the teacher and Y/N constantly caressing his left cheek every time Snape's back faces them, the said subject is somehow kicked out of its place on top.
"Y/N, do you mind?" He tried but obviously failed to ask her to stop in the nicest way he can utter. "I mean, it'll be really hard for us to pass DADA, and eventually NEWTs, if we're both distracted." His voice is hoarse and soft, one way or another. Afraid to hurt the girl beside him and cause a scene. Letting his former Potions Professor know his mischief doing is the least of his priorities for the day. Merlin, at least, let this day finish without anyone knowing.
"Harry, my love, it's not my fault your eyes are distracting. They're the most beautiful green not even the most beautiful forest in the world could compare to."
Once again, his cheeks and ears are on fire for the 37th time this morning. Most of the reasons are from the nonstop compliments he's receiving from the girl. It didn't take much energy from him to not believe all of it. He grew up with the Dursleys, they didn't fail to engrave in his mind his place and worth.
"Care to share in class what you're chattering about, Mr Potter?" The elder snarled in the middle of his discussion, letters extending out of his tongue as per usual. He finally notices, as always, Harry making another noise across the room.
"Nothing, Professor."
The said Professor narrowed his eyes to the duo. He knows, of course, he knows, he was a bloody Potions Professor ever since he accepted the job offered to him at Hogwarts.
"I'm saying this once and only once," he positioned himself in front of the two, now leaning to the Gryffindor boy to let just the two hear what he'll say. "Fix this, or you will face more vile punishment than getting expelled."
The class was dismissed with 50 points taken from Gryffindor. Harry is used to it, even his other fellow Gryffindors weren't surprised anymore. As a matter of fact, as long as he is breathing, infinite points will be deducted from their house.
As they were heading out of the classroom, Hermione gently peels the zonked out Y/N away from her grasp on the poor boy. "Harry, you can't let the other teachers know about this."
"Well, what do you suggest then?"
The next words that came out of her lips are like caffeine to the sleepy heads of Harry and Ron. They could not believe she could say such things. Even Y/N would have been gobsmacked if she just wasn't in a daze.
"Don't go to classes?" Her tone was laced with uncertainty. But she couldn't think of any other option, she'd rather let them take a day off classes than have Harry nor Y/N expelled.
"Can I come with them?"
—
Harry Potter's Monday was bizarrely different from his usual ones. He has spent the whole day with Y/N trailing behind him like a baby duck. His hand used to be sweaty the whole time with her's but now, it felt more comforting than awkward interlocked with his.
The castle was quiet, with all the students in class, it gave him privacy and away from the prying eyes of malicious gossipers. They couldn’t get inside the Common Room as some 7th years are hanging there knowing they have fewer classes and more time for reviewing for their NEWTs, library; some teachers roam around there, Hagrid’s Hut; knowing Hagrid, as much as they love the guy, couldn’t keep his mouth shut from secrets.
As much as he dreads going to class all the time, it was strange to see the castle this quiet without Ron’s company.
He was throwing pebbles by the lake to pass time as Y/N sat on the ground behind him, making them their Charms essay homework.
The boy studies her features. Y/N wasn’t so bad. Her hair’s tidier than Hermione’s. She was actually beautiful. He would’ve taken her to the Yule Ball when Ravenclaw Cho Chang declined his invitation and if it wasn’t for that Slytherin bloke asking her out instantly - her first ex-boyfriend who Y/N dated a few months back. Her hair tucked in her ear as she focuses on what to write next in her essay. Harry feels bad for making her write his homework but the girl insisted. Guess you’d do anything for the people you love.
He looks back on the lake. Thinking of the people who have loved him did everything they could to protect him, even dying. First, his parents, then Sirius even Jesus, what did he do to deserve this fate. What good will it be if the people he loves are gone?
Two arms wrapped around his chest from behind startled him.
“You’re tense.” Y/N’s hand unwrapped his bloodied hand. He didn’t even notice he was gripping the stone tightly, his scarlet blood staining the object.
“It’s nothing.“ He cranes his neck to stare at the girl on his right shoulder. Her eyes are full of concern and love. Love that he created out of a goddamn potion for a goddamn homework. A love that could never be compared to the love of his parents and Sirius. A goddamn false love. His brows knitted before jumping out of Y/N’s embrace with panic.
“I think we can go inside now.“
The rest of the day consists of Harry, trying to ignore all of Y/N’s pining over him. He tries to remember that all of these are not her fault, there’s nothing to get mad at her about. Running away from her is also impossible as she committed herself to cling to Harry’s arm as if her life depends on it.
Finally, classes are over and dinner is approaching. The two are reunited with Hermione and Ron in a secluded area of a random hallway, as Harry was hoping to get less attention from other students as they got earlier at breakfast.
“How are the love birds?“ Ron teases, seeing their hands locked still.
“Oh, it was majestic, Ron! Harry took me to the Black Lake even though today was a school day. I feel a little rebellious, to be honest.“
“Good hiding spot.“ Hermione commented.
“I’m not going to the Great Hall for dinner. So you two can bring Y/N instead.“
“No! I’m coming with you!“
“Y/N aren’t you tired of my company yet?“
“I could never! I love you.“
Ron snickered pretty loudly in front of them, even Hermione couldn’t suppress a smile.
“Aren't you two just adorable?” the redhead continues to tease.
“Don’t worry Harry, Ron and I will bring you supper instead.“
The day has finally ended and the effects of the Amortentia, as what the favourite book of Harry says, wears off after 24 hours. It was past Y/N’s get up time but fortunately for them, she took her time sleeping exactly until the effects wore off.
She moans with pain as she tries to sit up from her bed.
"How are you feeling?"
"'Mione?"
"It's me."
"I feel like a full construction site is inside my head . . . and I feel awful. Like, waking up on the wrong side of the wrong bed."
"Do you feel anything . . . unusual? Like, something or particularly someone you want to obsess about?"
The girl looks at her strangely and then at the time. "Bloody heck Hermione, aren't we late for breakfast?"
Clearly, Y/N remembers none from the incident.
Meanwhile, at the Great Hall, Harry is tapping his leg out of anxiousness. If his Amortentia was too strong and didn’t ease away, he might as well pack his belongings and leave Hogwarts voluntarily. His precious book from the Half-Blood Prince has mentioned the cure for a love potion but the ingredients are only held by the Potions Teacher. The horrors there will be once he mentions this to a teacher is unimaginable, he’d rather spend the day with a dazed Y/N than get lectures from a teacher.
“Don’t worry about your girlfriend, mate,“ Ron’s words are muffled from a chicken leg in between his teeth from across him. “They’re here.“
Across the Hall, the two girls are striding towards their place.
“Why are you at my seat?”
“Uhhh . . .” stammering, Ron glances at Harry for help. They were normally sitting beside each other but after the incident yesterday, they thought Y/N would love to sit next to the Golden Boy. “I-I don’t know either,“ just sliding to his side to make room for the two.
“How are you feeling, Y/N?“ Harry asks the dishevelled looking girl in front of him. Both Hermione and Ron - who are sitting side by side - are listening to the exchange intently.
“Honestly, I feel bad. Like, subconsciously, I know this day would be so bad,” Y/N sighs depressingly. “Why, are you alright?“
“Yeah,” deep inside the boy, a strong wave of relief passed him. His body was cold from the nerves, but knowing his Amortentia had finally worn off, those nerves were showered off of him with a warm relieving feeling. “Actually, I’ve never been better.”
“Well, at least one of us has woken up on the right side of the bed.“ she chuckles half-heartedly. Harry felt guilty hastily after hearing those words. It’s all your fault dipshit.
As Y/N is back to sitting beside Hermione, she is also back to her normal self. Talking to her alone about their Charms homework that she never remembers making and some other random stuff that the boys could not give a care about. She was back to not paying any attention to the Golden Boy at the front who she absentmindedly know is staring at her.
Morning supper was finished and the quartet is now in Snape’s classroom. Y/N was back to sitting beside the cute Hufflepuff guy she's been crushing on and Harry is back stuck with his blabbering best friend.
As Snape discusses some more non-verbal spells and the techniques, he takes time to stop rounding the class in front of Y/N who was again, back to her normal self, her focus never leaving the Teacher. He stares at her, looking past her eyes and seeing that his student’s consciousness is back before trudging towards Harry and Ron.
“10 points from Gryffindor,” he grunted under his breath, which actually is the first compliment Harry has ever received from the elder man.
Classes ended and dinner came, Harry finds himself staring at the girl in front of him. She was talking to Seamus, one of their good friends, chatting and laughing with him as if he'd said the funniest joke ever told. The food on his plate has long been forgotten.
"Quit staring, you creep."
Harry looks back at his best friend beside him with a mixture of confusion. "Don't tell me you think I wouldn't notice."
What the boy was talking about, he has no idea.
"When will you tell Y/N?" Again, he replied with a look. "About the incident, of course."
Harry wasn't planning on ending his friendship with Y/N because of his carelessness. He could've just sealed the cookies in a jar or box so no one could see it, but no. He had to display it for the world to see. Hermione disagrees with his plan, of course.
The three of them found the perfect time to be alone in the common room, students are still chatting and scampering about their day anywhere but their dorms. So they decided then, to tell Y/N what happened.
"So that's why I felt bad. Isn't that the after-effects of Amortentia?"
Three heads nodded in front of her, studying her features.
"Well, I'm glad it was you, Harry. Could you imagine if it was Ron?" Y/N visibly grimacing at the thought. "But to be honest, it was all my fault. I should've asked you first before eating it. Thank you for being honest with me, Harry."
It wasn’t really what the boy was expecting as a response. He was anticipating more anger or embarrassment from the girl.
Their usual cycle is back. Y/N was completely Y/N Y/L/N again it's as if nothing happened. The four of them never mentioned the incident again and Harry catches himself being disturbed with that. It made him feel some things like shouldn’t Y/N be shy around me? Or shouldn’t Ron tease us still about what happened? Or shouldn’t Hermione lecture us and watch over us more to not repeat the incident again? These thoughts run through his head as every day passes.
He also catches himself getting extra angrier at the Hufflepuff boy, Y/N’s crushing about, every time they have a Quidditch tournament. Especially that time when she barges in the Common Room pretty loudly yelling at everyone that she got a date with the cute Hufflepuff.
“Y/N can you help me find a good present for Mrs Weasley’s birthday on our next Hogsmeade trip?” He tried, one Friday morning, to get in between them.
“Of course, Harry! But, can we do it after my date?“
“Right . . . you have a date.” Sounding a tad bit more disappointed than he really is.
“But,” Y/N responded with the syllable dragging along “I could tell him to go on the next visit instead and spend the day with my best friend?”
“Oh no, I don’t want you to cancel your date because of me.”
“Harry, I could even cancel my Charms class, Godric knows how much I love that class but, that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is that I’m here for you. Also, we’ve barely hung out anymore ever since you’ve been the, what does Ron call it, ah, the Potions master!”
“Not you too!” he playfully grunted all too loudly earning a laugh from the girl.
"Seriously, I would love to come with you.”
He never thought he'd say this but he misses Y/N. His Y/N, who cannot keep her hands to herself but Harry’s.
And before he could stop himself from getting deeper into his thoughts, he was left astounded. To his knowledge, all feelings he has for his best friend are only platonic but here he is, couldn't stop himself from the thoughts of Y/N. The way she used to have her focus engraved to the boy alone and him alone. It gives him so much angst every time Y/N hasn't given him enough attention for the day.
If this stupid Amortentia incident leads him into any feelings he'd be in deep shit.
Because Harry should not be bothered to get distracted. Quidditch season is starting, he's got new people relying upon his captainship. Besides Y/N has her eyes on someone else and he cannot risk losing their friendship knowing his feelings aren't being reciprocated.
Well there it is, he's already in deep shit.
So when their first game arrived playing against Slytherin, he is rather surprised to see Ron winning them a high rank.
He knows he deserved the glory that's why as the captain of the team, he let them have the post quidditch game party in their common room. The parties were usually lead by the twins, but knowing they're already gone, he didn't know that his fellow housemates apprehended their festivities.
"Weasley! Weasley!"
They watch as Ron finally gets recognition for his own efforts alone. Y/N was nowhere to be found, probably with her new boyfriend, and Hermione was shattered when Lavender Brown smothered Ron with kisses.
The two are in a random staircase trying to comfort one another. He doesn't know who needs more comforting, Hermione or him. Knowing he already lost someone who's never his also shattered his heart.
"How does it feel, Harry? When you see Y/N with another guy?"
To say that he's dumbfounded was an understatement. He couldn't be that careless with his so-called feelings now, is he?
"I know. I see the way you look at her. You two are my best friend."
He dreaded this conversation happening. The Golden Boy has never intended on developing feelings toward his friend. Unlike Hermione and Ron, the two have been having this romantical tension ever since their first year. His feelings toward Y/N is purely conjured by an incident they never dared to speak about. The boy believes that these stupid feelings of him will only break their friendship and Harry's not risking that.
"Why don't you try something?" Hermione is always the one they go to whenever they need help and whenever they're clueless about the next step. But this, this advice of hers is definitely one Harry's scared to listen to. "Hufflepuff boy is still not making any moves yet. You know, you're valid to think about yourself too. You've always thought about the others, you always prioritize us before yourself. You deserve to live too, Harry."
So Harry did listen.
In the Great Hall, he confided himself to sit beside Y/N all the time. Hermione doesn't mind the changes in their seating arrangement as she gets to sit with Ron anyway, so candidly speaking, it is a win-win situation for everybody.
He starts small, playfully feeding her (the way she used to), talking and listening to her talk about life in general. When they were walking towards their class, he would always offer to carry her bag, in which he never really waits for her response. Intermittently inviting her to do homework by the lake alone together. And every time they have Hogsmeade visits, he would buy her sweets at Honeydukes.
And Y/N notices. It didn't really take her long before she sees. She has convinced Hermione one night to tell her of her doings that day she was under Amortentia. Harry's new behaviour towards her has perfectly mirrored the story Hermione has told her.
Little did Harry know, the feelings eventually have been mutuals.
So when the Golden Boy was informed of this Christmas Party Professor Slughorn has assembled, he didn't hesitate to ask Y/N in an instant, too afraid that Yule Ball night might happen again. He was, for once, too grateful to be part of the Slug Club as Hufflepuff Boy was not part of it. Now that just minimizes his crush problem.
He has seen her in a ball gown back in their fourth year for their Yule Ball. But he never got the chance to be the one standing beside her throughout the night but now, tonight, he feels like the luckiest man.
Standing on the top of the stairway from the girls' dorm room was his best friend he never had feelings before until this year. She wasn't wearing the grandest of gown there is but this simple dress enhanced her features. She was walking down the stairs with a smile that gave a huge impact on how she looks. She was literally glowing.
"Hi."
"Y/N," he breathed, completely in awe of what feelings do to people.
He always sees Y/N every day, talks to her and laughs with her. She sees her perfectly like what normal best friends do. But after developing feelings for her, his mind is persuaded that she was the most beautiful person that walked on the planet.
Harry is infatuated. He felt as if he was under some spell. Is this how Y/N sees him, all those times she was under the love potion?
But Harry was sure, a hundred per cent, that this is not artificial feelings. He really likes her.
So after a very successful Christmas date, with Hermione being their third wheel, the two were back from being hip to hip. Harry was glad his Y/N is back. He's been wearing the pride of not having to use a love potion to get her back beside him. Because this time, Harry did not create an artificial love to make the girl he likes, like him back. This time, he did it right. He just needed to wait for the right time and place to ask her.
Christmas has passed and Harry's time is also running fast. Of course, his special assignment with Dumbledore has never left his mind. He would do the subtle talks with Professor Slughorn here and there. He felt as if he's running out of ideas to get what he needed and to make things worse, the Potions Master is already growing annoyed with him.
"Still no luck with Slughorn, then, I take it?"
"Luck . . . That's it. All I need's a bit of luck."
That evening, Harry was away the whole time. He missed dinner but Y/N waited on him in the common room. She knows that the Felix Felicis potion has no limits. Whatever the user's deepest desires, it will help give it to them. Y/N knows that at this very moment, Harry succeeded. She makes sure that there will be someone waiting on him to celebrate it with him.
Harry came back from the Headmaster's office bearing a report about Slughorn's memory with Tom Riddle. There, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he sees her sleeping in one of the tables far back. It was not hard to see her, with the time obviously past bedtime, she was all alone.
With the liquid luck still pumping in his veins, he rushed to her. Kneeling in front of her, the Golden Boy then gently wakes the girl up.
"Harry?"
"Y/N . . . I think I'm falling"
"Falling? What falling? Are you experiencing vertigo right now? Anxiety?"
"Worse than those."
And Y/N, moving on from her sleeping state, was now fully aware of where the conversation was going. She holds his inviting hand. "What is it, Harry?"
"Love . . . I'm falling in love."
Y/N smiles at how adorable the boy is looking right now. His hair is ever so dishevelled and his lips as red as cherry. He was the most oblivious boy she knows. Has only dated one yet here he is, kneeling in front of her. Confessing.
She knows that Felix is helping him with some luck because knowing the sober Harry, he would never be bold enough to say such things. Little did Harry know, he need not some luck as she was all too blessed to have him in her life. Because to Y/N's honest opinion, in this room, she was the luckiest.
"I'm falling in love with you, Y/N."
—
(Shamefully) tagging these amazing ppl: @harryjamespotterxreader @harrypotterxx @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts
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Michelangelo’s The Risen Christ: Discovering the sacred in the profane.
The true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection.
- Michelangelo Buonarroti
While a visit to Rome’s grand squares like Piazza Navona is at the top of everyone’s list, there is much more to the Eternal City. The Piazza della Minerva, is one of Rome’s more peculiar squares and is a must-see for lovers of Bernini’s work.
As one of the smaller squares in Rome, Piazza della Minerva holds some interesting sites. Built during Roman times, the square derives its name from the Goddess, Minerva, the Roman Goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare. During the 13th Century, the decision was made to build a Christian Church on top of what was once a square dedicated to a pagan Goddess – and so the church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva was born, a beautiful example of Gothic architecture and Rome’s only Gothic church.
In fact this is the only Gothic church in Rome. It resembles the famous Church of Santa Maria Novella in Florence. There are three aisles inside the church. The soaring arches and the ceiling in blue are outstanding. The deep blue colours dominate the structure while the golden touches promote the intricate design. There are paintings of gold stars and saints. The stained glass windows are beautiful too.
In the centre of the Piazza is an elephant with an Egyptian obelisk on its back, one of Bernini’s last sculptures erected by Bernini for Pope Alexander VII and possibly one of the most unusual sculptures in Rome. There are several theories which aim to decipher Bernini’s inspiration for the sculpture, some of which point to Bernini’s study of the first elephant to visit Rome, while others point to a more satirical combination of a pagan stone with a baroque elephant in front of a Christian church.
Tourists flock to see the elephant but more often than not they miss out visiting an almost forgotten marble masterpeiece by Michelangelo himself inside the church. This controversial statue has resided in the Santa Maria sopra Minerva Church in Rome for almost five hundred years. Indeed The Risen Christ by Michelangelo is one of the artist's least admired works. While modern observers frequently have found fault with the statue, it satisfied its patrons enormously and was widely admired by contemporaries. Not least, the sculpture has suffered from the manner in which it is presently displayed and from biased photographic reproduction that emphasises unfavorable and inappropriate views of Christ.
Around 2017 I was fortunate on a visit back to London to see once again Michelangelo’s marble masterpiece, The Risen Christ, which was being displayed in all its naked glory at an exhibition at the National Gallery.
This was another version of this great sculpture that no one has got round to covering up. It has just come to Britain. Michelangelo’s first version has been lent to the National Gallery, in London, for its exhibition Michelangelo and Sebastiano del Piombo in 2017. It came from San Vincenzo Monastery in Bassano Romano, where it languished in obscurity until it was recognised as Michelangelo’s lost work in 1997.
I found it profoundly moving then as I had seen the other partially clothed one on several visits to the church in Rome. It has always perplexed me why this beautiful work of art has been either shunned to the side with hidden shame or embarrassment when it holds up such profound sacred truth for both art lover or a Christian believer (or both as I am).
Michelangelo made a contract in June 1514 AD that he would make a sculpture of a standing, naked figure of Christ holding a cross, and that the sculpture would be completed within four years of the contract. Michelangelo had a problem because the marble he started carving was defective and had a black streak in the area of the face. His patrons, Bernardo Cencio, Mario Scapucci, and Metello Vari de' Pocari, were wondering what happened when they hadn't heard for a while from Michelangelo. Michelangelo had stopped work on The Risen Christ due to the blemish in the marble, and he was working on another project, the San Lorenzo facade. Michelangelo felt grief because this project of The Risen Christ was delayed. Michelangelo ordered a new marble block from Pisa which was to arrive on the first boat. When The Risen Christ was finally finished in March 1521 AD Michelangelo was only 46 years old.
It was transported to Rome and this 80.75 inches tall marble statue was installed at the left pillar of the choir in the church Santa Maria sopra Minerva, by Pietro Urbano, Michelangelo's assistant (Hughes, 1999). It turns out that Urbano did a finish to the feet, hands, nostrils, and beard of Christ, that many friends of Michelangelo described as disastrous). Furthermore, later-on in history, nail-holes were pierced in Christ's hands, and Christ's genitalia were hidden behind a bronze loincloth.
Because people have changed this sculpture over time; many are disappointed with this work of art because it is presently different than the original work that Michelangelo made. The Risen Christ had no title during Michelangelo's lifetime. This sculpture was given the name it has now, because Christ is standing like the traditional resurrected saviour, as seen in other similar works of art.
It was in discussion with an art historian friend of mine currently teaching I was surprised through her to discover the sculpture’s uncomfortably controversial history. There is no doubt Michelangelo’s marvellous marble creation has raised robust debates about where beauty as an aesthetic sits between the sacred and the profane. And nothing exemplifies that better than the phallus on Michelangelo’s The Risen Christ.
For the majority of its time there, however, the phallus has been carefully draped with a bronze loincloth - incongruous at best, and prudish at worst, but either way a less than subtle display of the historic Church’s discomfort with the full physicality of Christ.
Indeed, it is worth noting that this attitude prevails, at least in some sense, into the twentieth-century: the version of the statue in Rome remains covered to this day, and much of the critical attention the sculpture has received after Michelangelo’s death has been grating. Romain Rolland, an early biographer, described it as ‘the coldest and dullest thing he ever did’, whilst Linda Murray bluntly dubbed the work ‘Michelangelo’s chief and perhaps only total failure’.
But Michelangelo himself saw no such mistake. The censored statue seen in Santa Maria sopra Minerva is what we might call his second draft.
It’s interesting to note that when artist was originally commissioned to sculpt a risen Christ in 1514, he had all but completed it before realising that a vein of black marble ran across Jesus’ face, marring the image of classical perfection which he so wished to emulate. It had nothing to do with the phallus. Furious, Michelangelo abandoned this Christ - the one I saw at the National Gallery - and began again. Even given a fresh chance, he chose to retain Christ’s complete nudity.
Why was this of such importance to Michelangelo? Why did he so strongly wish to craft the literal manhood of Christ, as never depicted before? Part of the answer may lie in his historical context: the Renaissance in Italy was driven in the part by the remains of Roman antiquity discovered there; study of the classics became commonplace, and scholars tended to consider the Graeco-Roman world as a cultural ideal, with ancient art in particular being emblematic of a lost Golden Age. Famously, classical sculpture was almost always nude.
In his interview with The Telegraph in 2015, Ian Jenkins, curator of the British Museum exhibition “Defining Beauty: The Body in Ancient Greek Art”, attempted to explain this tradition. ‘The Greeks … didn’t walk down the High Street in Athens naked … But to the Greeks [nudity] was the mark of a hero. It was not about representing the literal world, but a world which was mythologised.’
We see evidence for this trend in Greek literature as well as sculpture: Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, considered by some to be the earliest known works of Western literature, were likely written between the 8th and 7th centuries BC, but their setting is in Mycenaean Greece in the 12th century. The Greeks believed that this earlier Bronze Age was an epoch of heroism, wherein gods walked the earth alongside mortals and the human experience was generally more sublime. In setting the texts at this earlier stage in Greece’s history, Homer echoes the belief held within his contemporary society that mankind had been better before (what we might now call nostalgia, or, more colloquially, “The Good Old Days syndrome”). There is a real feeling of delight present in the distance Homer creates between his actual, flawed society, and the idealised past.
Indeed, it calls to mind a line I once read in an introduction to L.P. Hartley’s The Go-Between, by Douglas Brookes-Davies: ‘Memory idealises the past’. Though modernist texts such as The Go-Between problematise this, in antiquity it was not only commonplace but celebrated to look back to a more perfect existence and relive it through art. The very fact that Michelangelo abandoned his sculpture after years of work on account of a barely noticeable flaw in the marble is evidence that he, too, was striving towards the classical ideal of perfection. ‘Unfortunately,’ Hazel Stanier has commented, ‘this has resulted in unintentionally making Christ appear like a pagan god.’
This opens up another question – why does such a rift exist between the way ancient cultures envisaged their divinity and our own conceptions of a Christian God? Why are we not allowed to anthropomorphise the deus of the Bible in the same way that the Roman gods were?
Christ, of course, makes this somewhat confusing, given that he is described in the Bible as ‘the Word made flesh’, a physical and very human incarnation of the spiritual being that we call God. Theology tells us that he is fully human and fully divine, and yet the Church have excluded him from many aspects of life that a majority of us see as typifying a human being. Christ has no apparent sexual desires or romantic relationships, and though not exempt from suffering, he does not play any part in sin (which, as the saying goes, is ‘only human’). I think that the enormous controversy caused by films such as The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), which explore the possibility of Jesus having a sex life, is reflective of the possibility that - though in theory the Christian messiah is fully human - we feel significant discomfort at the notion that he may have explored particular aspects of the human experience.
Purists and the prude and liberals rush to opposite sides of the debate. If purists run one way to completely deny Christ had any sexual desires or even inclinations as all humans are want to do, liberals commit the sin of rushing to the other extreme end and presuppose that Jesus did act on sexual impulses simply because it was inevitable of his human nature.
I think the truth lies somewhere between but what that truth might actually be is simply speculation on my part. It doesn’t detract for me the life and saving mission of redemption that Jesus was on - to suffer and die for our sins as well as the Godhead reconciling itself to sacrificing the Son for Man’s sins and just punishment.
Of course, it is well-known that the classical gods had no qualms about sexual activity. It is difficult to make retrospective judgements about citizens’ opinions on this but, as it was the norm, we might assume that they felt it was rather a non-issue. I can empathise with some critics who reason that the Christian God is not entitled to sexual expression is because of the traditional Christian idea that sex is inherently sinful – that original sin is passed on seminally and so by having sex we continue to spread darkness and provoke further transgression. It is from this early idea that theological issues such as the need for Mary to have been immaculately conceived (she was not created out of a sexual union, much like her son) have stemmed. But here - the immaculate conception - the critics are profoundly wrong in their theological understanding of why God had to enter the world as Immanuel in this miraculous way.
Some Christian critics - and I would agree with them - assert that the vision of a naked Christ might make a powerful theological point in a world where sex still carries these connotations. They rightly point out that clothing - and I might extend this to mean the covering-up of the sexual parts of our body - was only adopted by humankind after the Fall, the nudity of Christ is making a statement about his unfallen nature as the second Adam. In other words, Christ has no shame, because he is sinless and has no need for shame. Perhaps what Michelangelo intended was actually to disentangle nudity from its sexual, sinful associations, instead presenting us with a pre-lapsarian image of purity taking the form of the classical Bronze Age hero.
There is another, less theological explanation for the sculptor’s obvious use of the classical form. It reminds us of a time when gods walked the earth alongside us, when they were fully human – us, only immortal. Maybe he wanted to emphasise that fully human aspect of Christ’s being. Questionable as much of their behaviour was, the classical gods were certainly easy to identify with. For Michelangelo, this may have been his own way of embodying John 1:14 in marble: ‘The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us’.
It is here critics may have gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick with The Risen Christ when they point out the odd proportions of the figure: that it has a weighty torso, or the broad hips atop a pair of tapered and rather spindly legs, or even a side or rear view of the figure that show Christ’s buttocks.
For a start, this ungainly rear view was not supposed to be seen. The statue was meant to go in a wall niche, so that the back of the statue was hidden. Michelangelo of course knew this, and shaped the statue so that it would appear well proportioned from the front. If we view the sculpture from the front left, perhaps its best side, then Christ is no longer a thickset figure. Rather, his body merges with the cross in a graceful and harmonious composition.
The turn of Christ’s body and his averted face suggest something like the shunning of physical contact that is central to another post-Resurrection subject, the Noli me tangere (“Touch Me Not”). The turned head is a poignant way of making Christ seem inaccessible even as the reality of his living flesh is manifest.
We are encouraged to look at not Christ’s face, but the instruments of his Passion. Our attention is directed to the cross by the effortless cross-body gesture of the left arm and the entwining movement of the right leg. With his powerful but graceful hands, Christ cradles the cross, and the separated index fingers direct us first to the cross and then heavenward. Christ presents us with the symbols of his Passion – the tangible recollection of his earthly suffering.
Behind Christ and barely visible between his legs we see the cloth in which Christ was wrapped when he was in the tomb. He has just shed the earthly shroud; it is in the midst of slipping to earth. In this suspended instant, Christ is completely and properly nude.
We must imagine how the figure must have appeared in its original setting, within the darkened confines of an elevated niche. Christ steps forth, as though from the tomb and the shadow of death. Foremost are the symbols of the Passion, which Christ will leave behind when he ascends to heaven.
Why was Michelangelo compelled to portray Christ completely naked in a way that was bound to trouble some Christians? It was not out of a desire to blaspheme. On the contrary, this genius – poet, architect and painter as well as the greatest sculptor who has ever lived – was not only a faithful Christian but someone who thought deeply about theology. You can bet he had good religious reasons to depict Christ in full nudity.
But it would be complacent to think there was no tension in showing Christ nude. The fact that The Risen Christ in Santa Maria still has its covering proves how real those tensions are. The fundamental reason Michelangelo could get away with it was that he was Michelangelo. By the time he created this statue, he had the Sistine Chapel ceiling (with all its male nudes) under his belt and was the most famous artist in the world.
For centuries, the faithful have kissed the advanced foot of Christ, for like Mary Magdalene and doubting Thomas, they wish for some sort of physical contact with the Risen Christ. To carve a life-size marble statue of a naked Christ certainly was audacious, but it is also theologically appropriate. Michelangelo’s contemporaries recognised, more easily than modern viewers, that the Risen Christ was a moving and profoundly beautiful sculpture that was true to the sacred story.
#the risen christ#michelangelo#marble#church#christian#beauty#aesthetics#statue#religious#renaissance#history#rome#bernini#art#arts#culture#society#religion#sculpture
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Why do people get hung up on whether a gay person in media is a good or bad representation of them? I'm gay and I can tell you we aren't all the same? Being gay is our 1 common trait. So as long as they're gay then you've done it. Gay people can be kind, mean, racist, open, kinky, reserved, shy, outgoing, sexist, and literally anything else under the human experience.
Because I am perpetually hungry, let's tell a story about cookies.
You are a bright-eyed, optimistic, baker in the making. Your goal is to wow the world with your culinary skills, so of course you head to The Best Baking School for your degree. Over the course of your studies you learn how to perfect a thousand different cakes, an equal number of pies, and more versions of brownies than most would even assume exist. But cookies... oh, cookies are your passion! You can't wait to learn about the wealth of cookies you can make too. Then, sure enough, that part of your education finally arrives.
Funny thing is though, it's just chocolate chip.
Surely there's been some mistake? The cookie experience is vast and nuanced! Why in the world are your instructors — supposedly the best in the world — reducing cookies to a single class about baking chocolate chip and chocolate chip alone? Hell, why are cookies so sparse in the curriculum as a whole? You're never asked to bake them as a demonstration, or practice with them, and they're definitely not a given across everyone else's baking experience. Cakes, pies, and brownies... they're the default. Cookies are comparatively rare and when you do get to study them, everyone is super focused on the chocolate chip.
Then you graduate and head out into the world, only to find that pretty much everyone is as cookie-blind as your school. A few years back you never would have found cookies in the average grocery store and yeah, the fact that there's a cookie section now is great, but it's, uh... all chocolate chip! Many bakeries still don't carry cookies at all, but when they do it's - again - chocolate chip. Chocolate chip out in restaurants. Chocolate chip at the bake sale. Your friend invites you over and proudly presents a massive sweets tray that includes a single, sad looking, chocolate chip cookie. They beam at you in pride. Isn't it so great?
"Uh..." you say. "Well..."
Every once in a while someone will switch out milk chocolate for dark chocolate, or add nuts alongside chocolate chips. One bakery was even crazy enough to exclude chocolate chips entirely! Crazy according to the press, anyway. Because for years now you've been shaking your head, wondering what exactly is so progressive about realizing that sugar cookies exist. You've found other bakers interested in cookies and, by god, there are thousands. So many flavors! Gluten free and allergy conscious! Someone even made a sweets tray that was predominantly cookies, can you believe it? The problem is, almost none of them are mainstream. Your friend baking cookies out of their personal kitchen is doing fantastic work, but their baking doesn't have the impact that those grocery chains and established bakeries do. Their work isn't going to fix your school's curriculum. Too many people still think that cookies are exotic somehow. They're not the default. And when they do acknowledge their existence, it's chocolate chip over and over. Until one of them adds those nuts and suddenly the whole country is losing its mind about how inspired, creative, progressive their baking is. Meanwhile, you're ready to scream because that baker doesn't even know that something as "exotic" as a gingersnaps exist!
The worst part? Most of these cookies are... bad. Like they exist, yeah, but good god most don't taste good. And that's the whole point of a cookie?? What is the point of buying cookies if the cookies themselves are awful? You go to these bakeries, these restaurants, your friend's house, and you try the very limited cookies on offer, only to find that they've been sloppily baked. Doesn't anyone care that the baker burned their cookies to a crisp? That another straight up forgot to add sugar? This one dropped his on the floor and still tried to serve it to you! But the overall sense is that you should be grateful for getting any cookies at all. "That cookie is an offense to my taste buds," you say and people shake their head at you, disappointed. "I liked the taste of it," one says. "If you don't like it, go buy a different cookie!" Well... easier said than done. "It's not that bad," another says, shrugging in defeat. "I mean yeah, I don't really like it, and the baker stopped making them two years ago... but I'm just happy to have had any cookie at all, you know?" You do know, but that doesn't mean it's any less frustrating. You look at the hundreds of cakes available, these bakers spending decades perfecting their recipes, and wish cookies had even a fraction of that work put into them. You find people who agree with you, absolutely, but there's this this prevailing sense that a cookie is a cookie. Any cookie will do. Supposedly.
Except go long enough and you feel like you're ready to lose your mind. You take some poor person by the shoulders and go, "Doesn't this bother you? Doesn't this make you furious? There is more to the cookie world than these three flavors, 90% of which is chocolate chip! And we deserve well-made cookies, not the crap they've been upholding as the next culinary masterpiece!"
But this person just shakes their head. "Well of course there's more to cookies than three flavors. There's a huge variety of cookies! I know that."
"Yes, but the world isn't selling that variety."
"Of course they are! Just last week I had an oatmeal raisin. That's amazing!"
"Yeah and how many years did it take you to find that?"
"Well..."
"And how did that oatmeal raisin cookie taste?"
Your prisoner pulls a face. "Ugh, not good. Oatmeal raisin is definitely not for me. It's hard as a rock! I really don't understand why someone would want to eat that on a regular basis."
"But it's not supposed to be hard as a rock!" you cry, waving your arms. "That's the problem! Oatmeal raisin is so goddamn rare and then the one time we get it, it was badly baked. Of course people are turned off by it. Everyone who already loves oatmeal raisin is getting pissed because their favorite cookie is misrepresented, they're unlikely to see more of them now, and everyone is still serving the most tasteless chocolate chip cookies I've ever had, acting like this is the pinnacle of cookie baking! Do you even know that a macron exists?"
The person pats your hand consolingly. "Of course I do. My roommate's sister's boyfriend used to bake macrons, you know. I don't know why you're so hung up on this. Cookies can be whatever the baker wants them to be. Provided they're a flat-ish sweet cake, they're still a cookie!"
You hang your head, giving up. "Yes, they can be so many things, but they're not. Let me know if you ever find a bakery actually making the variety you keep acknowledging exists. Bonus points if those cookies are edible. My soul if they're delicious, as a cookie should be."
"You know," they say, still patting your hand. "There's a bakery making chocolate chip with dark chocolate next year. Everyone is talking about it. You should think about buying one before they take it off the menu!"
You contemplate just walking into the ocean.
Now, incredibly long metaphor concluded... switch out "cookies" for "queer rep"! The representation matters because no, just making them gay isn't enough right now. You're right that queer people can be anything under the sun, but right now media isn't providing us with that variety. It's not enough to acknowledge that such variety exists, it actually has to make it into our books and onto our screen. Taking just characters who identify as gay and putting aside the HUGE variety of other identities for a moment (of which we are mostly lacking in terms of rep), where are the gay asexuals? The gay people of color? The disabled gays? Trans gays? Did your gay character appear for just a handful of episodes? Were they killed off? Are they nothing more than a stereotype or comic relief? Is this the only gay character in your entire story? We need to ask questions like this because though gay people can be anything under the sun, our media landscape has only shown a miniscule portion of that variety.
Today, even in 2021, our representation of gay people is still pretty limited to:
You are only coded as gay and evil
You are only coded as gay and queerbaited
You are canonically gay, but a cis, ablebodied, white person
You are canonically gay, but were written terribly/killed off/punished by the narrative/generally making the real gay people watching you feel awful about their identity
You are canonically gay, but you're not human. Gotta other the queerness by making you an alien/robot/fantasy being
You are canonically gay and that's your entire existence. There is one (1) narrative of how you knew by the time you were four, never questioned your identity after that, suffered through a family that rejected you, and now all your major arcs revolve around being gay. You are gay and that is it.
Despite being a list of six, that's still incredibly limiting. Are there exceptions to such a list? Always, but that doesn't mean the list isn't still dominating. We can look at any individual gay character and say, "Of course they can be evil/white/killed off/a joke/etc. because gay people can be anything at all," but when we look at the trends, when we look at ALL the media together, we see that gay people aren't actually depicted as being anything... they're depicted as being these handful of things, severely limiting how gayness is represented. Bad rep. If you hit up the bakery and question why there's only versions of chocolate chip available yeah, the baker can go, "But cookies can be any flavor! Including chocolate chip!" They are not, technically, wrong. The problem is not that chocolate chip exists, but that chocolate chip dominates and other flavors are rare, ignored entirely, or baked so badly it's actively damaging to that flavor as a whole. Yeah, your gay character can be mean. Or kinky. Or murdered by the story. But when so many gay characters are mean and kinky and murdered by their stories — when you're not getting other versions to balance that out and gay characters are still rare enough that it's just 1-2 characters trying to carry representation for an entire franchise — you start realizing that the claim of "Gay people can be anything else under the human experience" is an easy way to shut down the conversation of whether that variety actually exists in our storytelling yet.
It's not enough for the baker to acknowledge that yeah, of course there are hundreds of cookie flavors and of course cookies taste great! They've actually got to learn how to bake them properly and fill up their store with them.
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The Games We Play
1. Good News, Ruined.
Word Count: 7.8K+
Author’s Note: I had a flood of inbox requests surrounding Luke Patterson x Reader, enemies to lovers/fake dating/all the good stuff, and decided it was too good not to make something bigger. this chapter was sooo fun to write, and obviously with the whole thing being in an AU universe, I get to change a bunch of shit without consequence... So thank you for reading, I hope you love it, this is my nonsense.
Warning: none.
masterlist | taglist
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Parents tend to assume things of their children, the practise usually implemented by those who believe ignorance is bliss, especially when it’s easier to assume your kid is studying, or asleep in bed, or catching up on their reading list. Why worry about what your kids are up to after hours when you could share a bottle of wine and fall asleep on the living room sofa watching some shitty Hallmark movie? Enjoying the perfect ideal, even if it isn’t, in fact, real.
It was this sort of behaviour from the likes of Luke Patterson’s parents that led to him sneaking out pretty much every night of summer.
This was, of course, on top of lies about study groups and volunteering work and classical guitar lessons with his school teacher during the day, and it had been going on a lot longer than just the summer. But could anyone really blame the boy when he once again climbed out his bedroom window that last night of the summer, armed with his guitar on his back as he grabbed his bike and started off in the warm August air?
The soft breeze rushed through Luke’s hair and sent his flannel overshirt billowing behind him as he rode down his street, destined for the other side of town, to the other reality he had created without his parents’ knowledge, the world glowing under the last traces of another beautiful sunset. The reds and oranges gave way to tinges of green and the endless expanse of midnight blue the later hours welcomed, street lamps slowly flickering to life as shadows grew and Luke took a hard turn left onto an underpass, pedalling as fast as he could.
He was already late, he was usually late, but that night his mom and dad had demanded a family meal before he began his senior year, something about tradition or memory-making he had been too preoccupied to listen to. His year wasn’t going to be great because of family albums over his dad’s famous chili, though it was very good chili: no, his year was going to be great because of the people waiting for him at the end of his bike ride, and the news that waited with them.
Luke’s summer hadn’t been spent studying like he told his parents, and it hadn’t been spent the way many of his classmates enjoyed their time off school. Luke’s summer, and the majority of his Junior year before, had been spent in a garage in the LA suburbs, one that belonged to the Molinas. He had spent every spare moment there writing, practising, rehearsing, because Luke’s end goal in life was nothing like his parents had planned for him:
Luke was going to be a Rockstar, and the way to that wasn’t school. It was Julie and the Phantoms.
As he pulled up to the familiar residence about fifteen minutes later, legs aching from the high-speed ride over, Luke couldn’t help but smile. Ray and Carlos were out on the porch playing a game of cards under string lights, and it looked like Mr Molina was losing quite spectacularly to his ten-year old son.
“Hi Mr Molina!” Luke called with a wave, distracting Ray for long enough that Carlos managed to sneak a peak at his dad’s hand and plan accordingly.
“Luke, it’s Ray. Please.” Ray corrected, for the one hundredth time, but Luke was a polite kid, and while he wasn’t one for following his own parents’ rules, he was too respectful to ever start his friend’s dad by his first name. “Everyone’s in the garage, they’re waiting for you before they check the website.” Ray called over, and Luke nodded with a bright smile, waving a hurried hello and goodbye to Carlos before rushing towards the garage at the far side of the house, pulling off the straps of his guitar case and bringing it to his front.
The front pocket was stuffed full of scraps of paper, possible lyrics for new band music, which was required since they had managed to get on the YouTube trending page a few months before, and had begun playing the LA music circuit with high levels of success. The band had only been formed, properly at least, for the last year, and their sudden success was calling for them to be scooped up by a record label any day now.
That’s what the team were congregating for that night, Luke entering the converted garage, their studio, to find his bandmates huddled on the couch with their closest friends. In the couch’s centre was Reggie, Julie and Alex: to the blonde’s right was his boyfriend Willie, to Reggie’s right was his girlfriend Kayla, and Flynn paced on the other side of the coffee table, only coming to a halt as six pairs of eyes came up to find Luke fixing his hair from its windswept state after biking across the city.
“Where the Hell have you been?!” Flynn exclaimed, wide eyed and all gestures. She was a Junior like Julie, and perhaps the band’s number one fan: it made sense, she was kind of their manager. “The site is going live any minute now, and we’ve been waiting almost an hour for you to show up!” She hollered, Luke coming forward and placing a hand on her shoulder, the younger girl scowling at him as he did, but she stopped talking, allowing the boy a word in.
“My parents wanted a family meal, I got here as soon as I could.” He explained to the anxious faces, his eyes travelling down to the laptop sat on the coffee table that they all seemed rather focused on. “Is this it?” He asked, and Julie quickly nodded, turning the laptop, displaying a countdown on a website, to face Luke.
48 seconds… He had arrived in the nick of time.
“Will you read it first?” Julie asked in a quiet voice, Flynn taking the girl’s space on the couch behind her, squishing herself between Reggie and Alex. “You take bad news best…” It wasn’t actually true, but it seemed like Luke had been nominated for the task of finding out whether they had hit the jackpot, and looking at his friends’ all tucked onto the three-seater couch, Luke couldn’t bring himself to refuse.
“Alright.” He said with a curt nod, taking a seat at the opposite side of the coffee table as Julie sat herself back down, now on Flynn’s lap as the two girls hugged onto one another in fear.
23 seconds…
“This could be it…” Reggie muttered; his hand interlocked with Kayla’s. She and Willie had come along as emotional support for their boyfriends, and it was a good call: Alex was as pale as a sheet, and Reggie looked like he might vomit. “Imagine… If we’re in this competition, if we qualify… Guys, we could be signing with Fall Down.” He continued, the seconds ticking away as a silence filled the air after the bassist’s words. He was right, sure, but it was too hopeful.
The competition was country-wide, and thousands of bands had sent in their entries. It was quite literally a one in a 100,000 chance they would make it, that they would be one of the twenty bands picked for the competition.
After all, the tagline was quick to remind that ‘only the best’ would get into the Fall Down Records’ Battle of the Bands.
“3… 2…” Luke counted down, and as countdown finally hit zero, Luke refreshed the page.
Instead of the list Luke and his friends had expected to appear, instead he was greeted by a video, and the boy quickly pressed play, turning up the volume to let it play around the room.
“A very big hello from Fall Down HQ in Los Angeles!” The laptop spoke, and Luke looked up at six confused faces, quickly adjusting the laptop and sitting himself on the table so he could watch along with his friends. “I’m Trevor Wilson, and I’ve been given the honour of sharing the Fall Down Records’ Battle of the Bands line-up with all of you, across the world. But first, a quick reminder of the rules.
“This competition looks for the very best young artists in the US, the twenty top finalists getting a chance to join in our televised six-week competition. Each week our contestants are given a new theme to perform for, and each week three bands are eliminated by judges’ and audience vote, until the Final Four Battle it out for glory.” The video explained, but this wasn’t new information to the seen friends watching with desperate hope. “And the grand prize? The victorious band will be leaving with not only a multi-album record deal with Fall Down Records, but their very own World Tour and $1 million for each band member! I cannot make this up, and I can’t stress more when I say that the band winning this competition are going to be changing the history of music, with Fall Down Records and me, Trevor Wilson, by their side.
“Now, enough of me talking. Let’s get to what you’re all here for, the big announcement. Thanks to everyone who submitted their auditions, don’t give up hope on just yet… But viewers, I give you your top 20.” The video disappeared, the website suddenly coming to life with the full list of finalists, and Luke jumped into action to begin scrolling down as everyone leaned forward, instinctively, Luke’s finger moving as fast as it could past other acts.
Finalists came from all across the country, from all music genres: they scrolled past Idols, a country trio from Nashville; Rallico, an R&B group from New York; Everest, the folk-pop band from Montana. Luke’s finger continued to scroll, through videos and bios on each of the bands, and he counted as he went through to himself. 11, 12, 13…
“STOP!” Kayla shrieked suddenly, Luke moving his hand from the mousepad in surprise, his eyes finally focusing on the screen, the haze of scrolling quickly subsiding. He had to blink once, then twice, just to be sure, glancing back at the shocked faces of his friends beside him, making sure they were all seeing the same thing.
NUMBER 15: JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS. FROM LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.
“Oh my God…” Alex breathed out, the first to speak as he clutched onto Willie’s hand, and one by one, the faces on the couch went from looks of worry to ones of ecstatic joy.
“Oh my God!” Julie yelped, jumping off of Flynn’s lap and flapping her hands, unsure what to do for a moment, but Reggie quickly stood up as well, and the pair embraced in a tight hug. It took a few moments for the rest of the room to process, but the moment everyone had…
Carlos and Ray heard the screaming from their cosy spot at the front of the house, whooping and yells of triumph echoing across the cul-de-sac as the kids celebrated their achievement.
The hugs and bouncing and complete inability to stay still probably lasted a solid seven minutes, and by the time Luke was coming down from the high of the news, Julie was disappearing round the corner to tell her dad and brother, Reggie was spinning Kayla in his arms, and Alex had found himself in a rather heated kiss with Willie. His eyes went back to the laptop, and he removed himself from a hug with Flynn to sit back on the couch, scrolling back up to the top of the finalist website page.
“What are you doing man?” Reggie asked, Kayla jumping off his back and taking the bassist’s hand as they walked over to Luke, the boy pressing play on the first of 19 videos, the audition tapes of the other competitors.
“We’re up against all these other groups, the competition starts in a few days… I want to see what we’re up against.” Luke explained, the words pulling Alex and Willie over to the laptop too. The five pressed play on the first video, Luke leaning over and turning the volume up as high as it would go as the first band’s music began to play. “Willie, can you go get Julie?” The raven-haired boy nodded, squeezing Alex’s hand one last time in celebration before rushing towards the Molina residence to collect Julie and Flynn.
“I can’t believe we actually managed this…” Alex scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair and glancing over at his friends with the brightest of smiles. To think, the three had met at the age of 10, that all those days of mindless rehearsal led them to Julie, which led them to this?
“You guys deserve it.” Kayla commented with a smile, glancing down at her watch with a frown. “Shit, I forgot about curfew…” She muttered, pressing a kiss to Reggie’s cheek. “I need to get home; I’ll give Willie a lift too. See you tomorrow babe?” She asked Reggie, who nodded fast as Willie came back with Julie and Flynn. “Curfew, Skater Boy.” She reminded Willie; whose eyes widened before muttering a soft curse to himself.
“Right.” He sighed, waving a quick goodbye to his boyfriend and friends before slipping out the door with Kayla. Flynn watched them go, giving Julie and quick hug.
“This seems to be a band member meeting now, and I need a ride. See you tomorrow, alright?” Flynn asked, and Julie nodded, the pair sharing another hug before Flynn too disappeared through the garage doors, leaving the band to themselves.
There was a comfortable silence, as they all looked at one another, as they all came to terms with the sheer insanity of what was happening. Out of thousands upon thousands… Out of millions of applicants, Julie and her Phantoms had managed to snag a spot in the country’s biggest competition, managed to get themselves a chance at a record deal, at a world tour, at millions of dollars…
“So,” Julie said with a grin at her three best friends on the couch, the boys looking to her for their next move. “These other contestants…” She made her way over to the couch, sitting herself between Luke and Alex quite comfortably and taking charge of the laptop from Luke, who was happy to hand over control. “Why don’t we break this down?”
“Well,” Alex spoke up as he peered over Julie’s shoulder, the girl clicking on the second contestants’ audition tape, the sound of soft banjo filling the air. “If we want to win… We need to be looking for the biggest threat across the board, not just in one category.” He said, his friends looking over in slight surprise. It was undoubtable that of the guys, Alex was the smart one, but his smarts weren’t something he used very often to begin with. He coughed and ran a hand through his hair, sitting up a little straighter. “I just mean, the competition is a new theme every week, right? Well, we’re a band with a pretty wide range. I mean, Reggie with his banjo is just a start.” The blonde gestured across the couch, the compliment causing his friend to grin and wave. “If we’re optimistic here, planning the hypothetical that we make it past week one-”
“The band that’s going to be the hardest to beat is the one with range, like us.” Luke finished for his friend, clicking onto contestant number 3, the audition tapes only 90 seconds long, and gesturing to Reggie. “Get a pen and paper, we need to start writing notes.” He decided, and Reggie pouted.
“Why do I have to do it?” He asked, and Julie let out a laugh.
“Luke taking notes would be a waste of time, his handwriting is worse than a doctor’s, and Alex and I have thinking to do.” She explained simply, but it was enough for Reggie to grumble his way over to a dresser on the far side of the room they kept stocked with stationery in case inspiration struck, coming back over and sitting on the ground, getting into position to write.
“Back to contestant 1.” Julie instructed, the four beginning their first bout of research.
--
It was well after midnight when the band were only just reaching the end of their list. Alex was pacing as he listened to the audition tapes of their competitors over and over again, Luke and Julie both huddled over the laptop as Reggie jotted down notes.
They all should have gone to bed over an hour ago, what with their first day of school that morning, the last first day of school for the guys, but there was too much excitement, too much energy buzzing through them, and this research was the best way to channel it.
Where other subjects were not their strongest suit, everyone of the kids in that room excelled at music: not just playing it, but understanding it. This was a competition, and from what extensive knowledge they shared on Fall Down Records, this was not about looking for one-hit wonders or kids with untapped potential. It was about finding stars already in the making and pushing them forward.
This was good news for the four kids, and bad news for some of their opposition. It became clear in the first half of the tapes who was and who was not going to last long in the competition, a clear divide that didn’t seem like it would change any time soon. Alex was walking around the room that night trying to figure out just who would be going home in the weeks to come, and where Julie and the Phantoms would fall into the grand scheme of things.
“Final video.” Julie announced, the blonde looking over and deciding it would be best to sit himself down, at least for the watch through. Reggie too seemed intrigued as to who their last challenger would be. As Julie clicked her way onto the video, she was confused for a moment when presented with a black screen, wondering if she had accidentally turned her computer off.
Suddenly, a noise, unlike any Luke or Julie or the guys had heard in the last few hours of investigation. Accompanied by bongo drums and maracas, they were all expecting some sort of island breeze music, quite honestly, and Luke was about to pause and check the band’s name once more when the odd noise was suddenly replaced by a much more familiar one: an electric guitar coming in with the drums. An image finally flickered to screen, unlike the other videos of live performances across the country or awkward homemade recording sessions, this band had opted for an old, grainy video quality, a sepia coloured moving picture of hands beginning to play along on the guitar.
“All that I want is to wake up fine. Tell me that I’m alright, that I ain’t gonna die. And all that I want is a hole in the ground, you can tell me when it’s alright for me to come out.” The first few seconds were enough to leave jaws hanging, and though he would later deny it, Luke’s was on the floor.
The sound was so different, such a bizarre mix of percussion and pop and rock, with such a happy sound despite the bleak lyrics. It was impressive, to say the least, and suddenly the picture before them flashed away to reveal the band on a white stage, all dressed in block colours, and Luke scanned over the set up: they had a guy on drums who was dressed from head to toe in blue; a girl in all green on a beatmaker surrounded by the odd percussion they had heard at the song’s beginning, the funny noise revealed to be a marimba; the second guy was on guitar, though it wasn’t quite clear if he was lead or rhythm, and adorned in orange; and then finally…
“Hard Times.” The three other bands members sang, introducing the chorus for their front woman.
“Gonna make you wonder why you even try. Hard times, gonna take you down and laugh when you cry. These lives, and I still don’t know how I even survive. Hard Times, hard times.” She sang in a vision of block colour red, in a short tennis skirt and crop top beneath an oversized blazer, a pair of opaque red cat-eye sunglasses perched on the edge of her nose. The hands from the opening shots of the guitar playing had been her, the instrument a bright red that matched the outfit she wore, and Luke quickly realised that everybody’s instruments matched their clothing colour.
“Marimba…” Luke heard Reggie mutter under the music, only for them to be silenced by the chorus’ final line.
“And I gotta get to rock bottom!” The distortion on her voice as she half sang, half yelled the line was jarring and enchanting and Luke had to let out a bated breath as she continued, lifting the mic off its stand and walking to the boy in orange, passing the guitar duties over to him as she began to sing again, the camera focusing in on the girl in green’s ability on the beatmaker, her fingers dancing over the buttons as they brought in the bridge.
“Tell my friends I’m coming down. We’ll kick it when I hit the ground.” Another drastic change to this soft head voice, paired with the instrumental making it feel like, for a moment, they had all been sucked into a dream. “Tell my friends I’m coming down. We’ll kick it when I hit the ground… When I hit the ground. When I hit the ground. When I hit the ground.” The final note hung for a moment in the air, everything else going silent to let it resonate as the singer hung onto the boy in orange by the shoulder, her hand rising up to pinch his cheek before the final chorus hit.
“Hard Times.”
“Gonna make you wonder why you even try. Hard times, gonna take you down and laugh when you cry. These lives, and I still don’t know how I even survive hard times. Hard times.” The whole band sang the final chorus, their front woman spinning across the stage and singing in harmony with the girl in green, red’s voice riffing on the last notes as the beatmaker brought the snippet of music brought to a close, the screen going black as the music continued to came to a halt. “And I gotta get to rock bottom!”
And there it was… Their main competition.
Luke couldn’t drag his eyes away from the black screen, still trying to get over what he had just heard: while he was more partial to the music he made with his own band, there was undeniable star power in just that song, and four talented musicians to accompany it… Not to mention their lead singer.
He didn’t think he’d go into the contest attracted to a rival band member.
“They used… A marimba?! A marimba…” Reggie exclaimed finally, the first to talk, or rather yell, the leather jacket-clad boy jumping from his seat with his arms stretched in front of him in exasperation. The majority of their night had provided information on bands that gave them a challenge for first place, but confidence they might just grab it. And now? Now they had more than competition, but a threat to the biggest break of their lives.
“Electra Heart…” Alex read the band name out loud, frowning a little as he said it, something about the words seeming familiar. “I feel like I’ve heard of these guys before.”
“Maybe because they’re from California as well?” Julie suggested, pointing to the end of their title card as Contestant 20, stating the band were from San Diego, just two hours away from where they all sat.
“Watch out.” Reggie muttered, turning to face his friends once more and waving a hand at Luke. “Patterson’s smitten.” He muttered, the words knocking a frown on Luke’s face as he straightened up and closed over the laptop, putting the voice of the mystery girl to the back of his mind.
“First off, I’m not. And second? This is a good thing!” Luke exclaimed, though it was clear to everyone he was changing the subject. “The contest starts in two weeks, and we have the upper hand. We submitted Bright as our audition song, and it’s great, but that wasn’t even our best performance of it! We literally ran out of time to submit something better!” He reminded them all, drawing their minds back to the start of the summer. They had done their very best to piece together the audition tape, but Julie had suddenly gotten sick and they lost a week or so of their schedule. They ended up submitting a draft version, and still got in. “That is probably their top tier, and we know we can match and beat that! Right now, they’ll think they have this in the bag, when they don’t.” He got to his feet, walking over and hooking an arm around Reggie’s neck. “We’re going into this prepared, and ready to blow the show’s socks off, yeah?”
“Yeah!” His bandmates chorused, Julie standing up and prompting Alex to do the same, the four congregating in the centre of the studio. She was the first to hold out her hand.
“Legends on three.” She called; smiles shared amongst the band.
“One.” Reggie went first.
“Two.” Alex next.
“Three.” Luke finished, four hands stacked atop each other, four teammates ready to try and take on the impossible.
--
Sleep didn’t come to Luke that night.
He opted to cycle home despite the late hour, and clambered into bed at around 3 am while Reggie opted to stay overnight in the studio, too lazy to take himself home, not that it was an uncommon occurrence. Since Alex has started living with the Molinas, Luke and Reggie found themselves crashing more and more often.
But Luke cycled home anyway, mainly because he wanted the chance to think in private, to be alone as he planned their success now the competition slot was confirmed. It was the opportunity of their lifetime: he wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. No matter how beautiful the lead singer of Electra Heart was.
She weighed on his mind from the moment he saw her well past sunrise, and as the light flooded in through Luke’s curtains with the boy getting no sleep, he opted for a shower before his parents got up for work, and hopefully getting to avoid talking with them as much as possible until Kayla came by to pick him up, always with Julie, Alex and Reggie in tow.
That was another thing: how would he be suddenly breaking the news of his rock band on global television to his parents, who have yet to find out how he really spends his free time?
As he stood under the hot water that morning, washing away the adrenaline and sweat from the night before, he couldn’t help but hum the girl’s song: why was it so catchy? He tried to rinse it away with his fatigue and the aches in his legs from the biking to and from Julie’s, but it wasn’t budging, and neither was her face. In an act of defeat, Luke clambered out the showered, and shoved his earbuds in as he dried himself off and got dressed for the day, drowning out her voice in his head with the loudest music his phone had available.
As Luke continued about his morning, shuffling around the house as he sorted his laundry for the week and got his bag ready for classes, it was only once his dad yanked on of the earphones out of his ear that Luke figured he might have had the music too loud.
“Lucas, you play that music any louder you’ll be deaf by year’s end.” His father muttered, gesturing for his son to take a seat at the table. Luke glanced at the clock: it would be another twenty minutes before Kayla showed up in the car, and he decided it wasn’t the morning to start an argument.
“What’s up?” He asked, reaching over and grabbing an apple as his father sighed across the table, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. Luke took a bite, the flavour and scent filling his senses, only for that damned ear-worm to return.
“Luke, your mother and I are worried…” His dad began, and Luke frowned. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, it wouldn’t be the last. His parents had been set on sending him to college, or some sort of naval academy by Christmas, and Luke had continued to adamantly refuse. His grades were still doing well, perhaps thanks to the amount he copied off of Alex, and with his plan being the band anyway, it’s not like he needed school that badly anyway. “We want you to explore your options, to at least give some thought to your future.” His dad continued, and Luke took another bite of his apple, the song rattling in his head.
“I’m just fine.” Luke assured with an insincere smile, getting up from the table and heading back towards his room to grab his school bag. Perhaps he would just walk further down the road, get picked up on the Main Street.
“Son, come on now.” His father was a quiet, stern man, so while the words alone would have been a plea, the tone twisted them to an order, and Luke stopped just before his bedroom. “There’s an open day in a few weeks, all we ask is you go to it. No commitment, just attendance.” He continued, and Luke glanced back, shrugging.
“If you’ll get off my back about it then yeah.” He conceded with a roll of his eyes, quickly opening his room door and slamming it shut behind him, ending the conversation before his father ventured into small talk.
He waited in there, picking at his apple as he hummed the song from the night before, until a horn sounded outside, Luke then scooping up his school bag and rushing out the house as fast as he could, shouting a quick ‘goodbye’ as he slipped round the front door and closed it firmly, letting out a heavy breath.
He took a moment to compose himself before starting a light jog down his front lawn’s pathway to the car waiting at the bottom of the drive, chock full of his friends. Reggie was driving, Kayla and Julie sat tucked together on the front bench of the old vintage, while the back seat of the convertible was occupied by Alex, Flynn and Nick, who waved Luke over to the space free beside him.
“You know Kayla, the more people we pack in this car, the more likely it is your dad takes his car back.” Luke commented as he jumped into his tight spot in the back, sharing a fist bump with Nick as Reggie sped off in the direction of school.
“My dad gave up rights to this car the moment I started filling the tank, Patterson.” Kayla called back, Luke smiling and letting his head loll back as they raced along the back streets towards school. He could say he never felt more at home than with his friends, in moments like this.
“Like, shit, I forgot to congratulate you.” Nick called over the chatter in the car, garnering his friend’s attention with a dimples smile and tousled hair from the wind. Despite only the year separating them, Luke thought of Nick as a little brother, and the comment made him grin and pat Nick’s shoulder.
“Congratulate me when we win Battle of the Bands.” Luke corrected, leaning closer to make sure the front seat didn’t hear his next words. “And I’ll congratulate you once you finally ask out Julie, alright?” He posed the offer, Nick’s cheeks turning bright red. Luke chuckled it away, sharing a glance with Apex from across the backseat.
When they all got thrown into the same music class three years ago, it was pretty clear to Alex and Luke that Nick likes Julie, and vice versa. They had been trying to set the pair up ever since, with minimal levels of success. But with the impossible seeming to occur everyday now, who knew what might happen?
Reggie sped through a stop sign and near drifted round the corner into the parking lot, sending everyone in the car but Kayla grabbing for stability, whether it were the dashboard of the door or the back of seats, but they didn’t hit anything, and Reggie pulled into the assigned parking space the car had kept for the last year or so, right in front of the school quad.
“I can’t believe it’s the first day of our last year…” Alex remarked as everyone gathered their things and clambered out the car. They had become a collective over the past few years, a friendship group not easily frayed or broken, and as they walked in almost a clump across the school lawn, with Julie in the lead, it was quite difficult to not notice the rest of the school’s eyes resting on them.
Word must have gotten out about their good luck.
“What are you guys going to do without us when we’re gone?” Reggie asked with a grin, his arm sling over his girlfriend’s shoulder as the pair sauntered in the group’s centre, and Flynn turned back from her place beside Julie.
“Maybe get some school work done for once.” She clapped back, earning a chorus of chuckles and tones of agreement from amongst the group.
Luke was hanging back in the rear, taking a moment just to observe his friends, a habit he had gotten into over the summer: this was the last year they would, theoretically, all be together, and Luke had no intention of wasting any of his time with them.
“Hey, uh, Luke!” A voice interrupted his thoughts, the brown-haired boy spinning on the spot to come face to face with one of his classmates. She wasn’t someone he knew very well, granted, but he still smiled and took a step towards her, laying down the infamous charm.
“What can I do you for?” He asked with a dopey grin, which later turned to a smirk when she blushed profusely at his words.
“I was just… uh… Congratulations! On the contest, everyone’s talking about it.” She paused, rummaging in her bag and pulling out a slip of paper, Luke pulling a hand out of his pocket to accept the offering. “If you ever, I don’t know, if you’re ever free and wanna go out for a coffee or something…” She trailed off, and Luke examines the name and phone number.
“Well, Sara,” He read her name out, looking up at her as he spoke. “I’ll send you a text, maybe?” He suggested, taking a few steps back when he heard the sound of Julie shouting his name.
“Uh, yeah! Cool! See you around!” Sara beamed, waving him off as Luke turned to catch up with his friends, the interaction boosting his ego a little more as he went into day.
In fact, by the time lunch had come around, Luke’s day had been rather jammed packed with words of praise and offers of phone numbers, and it seems like his band mates had been experiencing the same thing. When Luke arrived at lunch after a gruelling lesson with Mr Norbert, glad that the rest of his day would consist solely of music, he found his friends at their preferred lunch table, each with a collection of notes falling from their pockets.
“Am… Do I need to act more gay? I thought people knew I was gay.” As Luke sat down, Alex asked the question to the table, Willie’s hand rubbing his boyfriend’s shoulders.
“What do you mean?” Luke asked as he set down his tray and took a bite of his sandwich.
“Four girls… Four girls have tried to ask me out today! And I mean, how am I supposed to respond to that? Did they not know I was gay in the first place?” He questioned again, head frantically searching for an answer as the boy’s anxiety began to build, only to be wheeled by Willie’s lip pressing to Alex’s cheek.
“Join the club, guys.” Carrie spoke up from the end of the table, a vision in pink as she and Julie shared notes from a previous class. “I’ve literally been receiving Instagram DMs for years, all the Dirty Candi girls have. The amount of guys that think they can ‘make you straight’.” The girl involuntarily shivered and let out a sigh. “This is just the beginning for you four. The amount of fan mail thanks to the competition will be huge.”
The Dirty Candi girls had been a group as long as Julie and the Phantoms has, but their music was so different there was no need for competition. They all just sort of became friends instead, and when it became clear the girls wouldn’t be allowed to audition for the Battle of the Bands because of Carrie’s dad’s position at Fall Down Records, there was a mixture of sadness and relief. No hard feelings were had, and no hard feelings would happen, because the last thing the friends wanted was to be compared with one another. They were all talented.
Plus, Dirty Candi performed on Ellen, so if anything they were currently the more well-known.
“In other news.” Flynn spoke up, pulling her eyes away from her phone to address the group. “There’s a new transfer student.” She announced, and glanced over at the clock on the far side of the cafeteria. “We should all be meeting them in about half an hour.” She said decidedly.
“How do you know?” Reggie asked with a mouth full of pasta. He had a semi-circle of clutter around him as he tried to eat and copy homework all at the same time, the boy quite aware of how lucky he was to have better-prepared friends than him.
“Mrs Harrison was our free period supervisor this morning. She got a call, disappeared from class and didn’t come back for twenty minutes.” Nick spoke up on Flynn’s behalf, the girl turned back to her phone to feverishly type away at the screen. “Mrs H has to welcome all the new music students.” He added quickly, glancing across the table as Julie nodded in agreement.
“They’re a senior, or we would have seen them in classes this morning.” The band’s lead singer stacked on top of the Juniors’ theory, and Carrie quickly got her attention back to point out a mistake she had made on the maths coursework.
“New students come in every year.” Luke remarked, brushing off the fascination with a wave of his hand. “Maybe we should talk a bit more about, oh you know, the fact that we’re going to be playing to millions of people on a televised game show in a fortnight!” Luke exclaimed, earning grins from around the table as they all got that hit of realisation again. It had felt like a dream the night before.
“Well, I don’t wanna spill secrets…” Carrie started, all eyes quickly on her. “But with dad hosting the show, there are some responsibilities the Wilson family are taking on… Like an acoustic jam session for the competing bands to meet each other.” She revealed with a squeak, taking a hold of Julie’s arm with excitement. “And don’t even get me started on the Halloween bash the Record Label will be holding…” She added, and Kayla hit Carrie’s arm playfully.
“You keep this up and you’ll rig the competition, C.” Kayla reminded with a meaningful smile, and the pink-themed girl rolled her eyes, but fell quiet nonetheless.
The conversation steered away from the competition for the rest of the lunch period, the friends slowly beginning the walk to music as eyes watched them pass. It wasn’t something any of them acknowledged, well, apart from Carrie on occasion, but they were the popular kids.
It was a mixture of charm, friendliness and musical success, but they had become the ‘it’ kids of Los Feliz High. None of them particularly disliked the role they had been prescribed either: the more people they knew, the more people would hear their music, the more people they could share their passion with. And it was nice, too, sitting at the top of the food chain. They had all been at the bottom at some point in time, and knowing their influence on their peers was a positive gave them all a little bit of pride.
“Quickly, quickly!” Mrs H called from the doorway down the hall, ushering the group to hurry toward the classroom, Julie and Luke in the lead as the nine kids shuffled through the door of the band room, Mrs H closing the door behind them. Their teacher quickly checked through the window to make sure no-one was on approach.
“Mrs H, is everything ok?” Julie asked, taking a step forward, and their teacher nodded quickly.
“I have a favour to ask. We’ve got a new student joining. I didn’t want to ask with other kids listening in but.” Mrs H paused, and relief flossed the faces of her students. There wasn’t any danger, just a request they usually got. “Could you make her feel at home? I. She’s been admitted to the program without an audition, I have no clue of her ability. I just don’t want her being overwhelmed, turned away again.”
“Anything for you, Mrs Harrison.” Luke chipped in, their teacher smiling and letting out a breath.
“Thank you… Right, get yourselves seated, we can have a chat more about this competition during second period, I’ll go fetch her from the office.” Mrs H explained, rushing out the door as their classmates filed in, the room becoming a hub of activity rather quickly as kids picked up their instruments and began tuning.
“How does someone get into the music program without auditioning?” Reggie asked, though there was no malice, just naïve curiosity. Unfortunately, his friends didn’t know how to answer him. It was a question they all had on their minds as they got themselves comfy in the room’s far corner, Luke collecting his guitar and Reggie’s bass from one of the storage cupboards, the pair nodding Julie over to the piano to help them tune the guitars.
It was Julie sat herself down at the grand piano that the door suddenly swung open, Principal Brown coming into the room in a dazzling magenta pantsuit.
“Good afternoon students.” She greeted, receiving a chorus of ‘good afternoon Principal’ back. “As some of you already know, we have a new transfer student joining us for her senior year, and she will be studying alongside you all part-time at the school’s music program.” The principal prefaced, quickly gesturing outside the door for Mrs Harrison to enter along side their new classmate.
“Is that…” Julie whispered, receiving a nod from Reggie and Luke.
The girl from the video last night, the front woman for Electra Heart, stood in their music classroom’s doorway, dressed like a model off a runway, a cigarette perched behind one ear. She was wearing a pair of red plaid trousers, paired with black heels and a corset style crop top, an oversized jean jacket thrown on top, all matched to a pair of sunglasses perched on the end of her nose. Her hair was in a bun, showing off the cigarette behind her ear and a collection of piercing along the earlobe. Her nails were all painted the same colour of red as her trousers, which matched the colour on her lips, which matched the outer corners of her eyeshadow.
“Perhaps you can introduce yourself?” Principal Brown asked, she too noticing the cigarette and plucking it from the girl’s ear, throwing it in the nearby trash can. The girl seemed unfazed by her actions, eyes scanning over the room until they landed on the piano, and the band members stood around it.
Luke couldn’t help but stare back, trying his best to keep his jaw from going slack. How was she here? How did she look better in person? And why in the name of God was Luke overcome with a sense of nostalgia as they looked each other over. There was something other worldly about her, something that made Luke feel like he was younger again. It was the eyes, that raked over his body as she smirked, eyes Luke had known to be timid and frantic when they were kids…
It suddenly click in his head.
“Class.” Mrs Harrison decided to speak for the student. “The is Y/N Y/L/N.”
“No fucking way…” Alex muttered standing up from the back of the class, causing confusion amongst his and Luke’s friends. The rest of them seemed to be missing something important, but were yet to figure out what.
“Y/N, why don’t you find yourself a seat?” Mrs H suggested, Principal Brown taking her leave as Y/N sauntered towards the far corner of the classroom, not pausing for even a second as she sat herself on Luke’s chair, arms folding over her chest as Luke’s gaze on her turned from one of surprise to one of raw, unfiltered annoyance, something Julie would later describe as ‘the angriest she’s ever seen’ her friend.
The pair stared each other down for a moment, Y/N the first to move and reach out an arm, taking Alex’s nearby hand in hers as he stayed standing, shocked by the revelation.
“Seven years is a long time, isn’t it?” Her voice was smooth, trained, like molasses dripping down. It stuck in Luke’s head, the words taking hold over his brain just like her song had earlier that day. Alex pulled the girl to her feet suddenly, the pair embracing in a tight hug, staying like that for a moment as the class watched on, as their friends watched on.
When they finally pulled apart, the girl turned her attention to the frowning Luke, whose knuckles were clenched so firmly that the skin was as white as bone.
It couldn’t be. How was she here? It had to be some kind of joke.
But her eyes were the same, her smirk so familiar, and the deal was sealed when she sat herself back down and crossed one leg over another, in his chair, sending a wink his way that was anything but playful.
“Well, hello there, Skywalker.”
He had always hated that nickname...
--
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Hello it's me and I love all of your drabbles about Techno x reader so far😍🥰. Your one of my favorite writers here in tumblr and if it's not too much to ask. Can you make a drabble where a reader is sick and all of the dream smp members and the sleepy bois are getting worried and panic(only to some members of the smp and this is not related to any of your drabbles recently. This is where the reader is single actually and has no relationship to anyone...yet😏). They only notice something wrong when one day the reader doesn't do their morning routines where she delivers some supplies that were asked by her friends in exchange for new and valuable things. And don't forget to stay safe and healthy 😘☺️.
Of course! Thank you so much for you super kind words!!
So you would wake up one morning and just be feeling absolutely miserable. You knew you were sick and that there was no way that you were going to be able to get out of bed. You feel really bad because you usually deliver the things that people had asked you to collect for them in the morning and pick up new “orders” that anyone might have, but this morning there is no way that you’re going to be able to do that. And you can’t even find the energy and strength to send out a message letting everyone know what was happening. You just roll over, bury yourself in the covers and fall back asleep.
At first, everyone is just confused. They’re all in their respective homes just waiting for you to arrive and deliver their things. They’re always really excited for this because they get to see you and talk to you for a little bit before you go on your way to the next person’s house. But as time goes on, everyone begins to get more and more concerned. You definitely should have been here by now, you’re never late, where are you. They all try separately to get in contact with you, but when all messages go unresponded, panic begins to build. I feel that Sapnap would be the first to act. He would go over to Dream’s house and ask if you had gone to his house yet. Dream tells him no and asks him the same question and Sapnap would respond with something sassy like, “Would I have come over here to ask you if they had”. Dream rolls his eyes but let’s the comment slide. So the two decide to visit everyone else and make sure that they just didn’t get skipped. As they visit houses, they’re group grows because everyone wants to make sure that you’re okay. So that by the time they get to Techno’s house (we’re going to pretend he lives in L’Manberg) almost the entire SMP had formed in one major “mob”. When Techno says he hasn’t seen you, the group just bursts into a lot of noise and connotation. Everyone began trying to talk over one another trying to decide what the best course of action was. It’s actually Tubbo who lets out a scream and gets everyone to shut up for a moment. “Thank you! Now why don’t we just go over to their house and see if they’re there? There is no use in panicking until we’re sure they’re not okay.” And everyone begins to grumble at that because ‘man they should have thought of that’. But everyone agrees and so this massive group quickly makes its way across the SMP to your house. Niki is the one to knock on your door to be polite, but when there’s no answer and everyone begins to murmur again trying to decide what to do, Tommy shoves his way to the front of the group and just kicks in the door. Some stare in shock, others are impressed, but Tommy just moves into your house with everyone following behind him.
While you’re asleep, you here your front door bang open, but you’re too sleepy to really care or comprehend what’s happening. But then there are many sets of footsteps and there’s murmuring heading down the hall to your bedroom. You manage to pry your eyes open blearily as your bedroom door is opened and literally everyone pours in. “Y/N!” They all shout with glee. It makes you wince because your head is killing you, only a few people notice. The rest begin to try and talk all at once, causing the noise level to increase and you to bury your face in your covers. It doesn’t seem to stop but suddenly there is a pressure on the side of your mattress and the covers are pulled back from your face. “You alright?” It’s Philza who is staring down at you in concern. “‘m sick,” you manage to croak out causing his face to contort. “Head hurts, body hurts. Too much” you mumble. Philza’s gentle hand rests on your forehead and he winces at the feeling. “Guys,” he speaks softly. And although it’s loud and his words are soft, everyone shuts up and turns to look because it’s Philza and he’s beside you. “They’re sick, if you could keep it down. I’m sure they would much appreciate it.” A lot of them look like deer in headlights for a moment, mainly Sapnap, Dream, Punz, Fundy, Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Quackity. “Oh poor baby,” Niki murmurs out in pity.
But then she jumps into action, “I’ll go make some soup, Fundy and Bad, you’re with me.” the two called get big smiles and nod. “Philza and the eldest two sons you get them medicine, cold rags, things like that.” Philza gives you a soft smile, a kiss on the forehead, and then gets up to stand by Wilbur and Techno. “Sam, Puffy, and Quackity. You’re in charge of taking the supplies that they were going to deliver to us today and distributing it to us. Y/N probably has a list and a chest where they store these things,” Niki looks over to you and you give a small nod, “Yeah, it’s right by the front door. The list should be in the item frame above it.” the three also give you big smiles and thumbs up. “Next, if you are under the age of 18, you’re in charge of making sure that Y/N has all the supplies that they need. Wood, cobblestone, stone, food, just all the materials they may need. Got it,” Tubbo and Ranboo give thumbs up but Tommy looks like he’s about to complain. One sharp glare from Niki, though, gets him to shut his mouth and nod begrudgingly. “What about us?” Punz questions, motioning to the four boys that were left. Niki looks over at you and then over at them and gives them a small shrug and a big smile, “You boys, Dream, George, Sapnap, Punz, are on cuddle duty”. The four let out loud cheers at that. You don’t even mind the fact it hurts your head because it makes you feel so loved that they’re cheering over cuddling you. Sapnap actually doesn’t wait for a ‘okay go do your tasks’. He literally just runs over to your bed and plants himself down on top of you like a blanket. “No fair!” The other three whine out before also rushing over to settle into a comfortable position. You are overwhelmed with love and support when Niki calls out for everyone to go and they all spring into action and just bustle around your house. Phil, Wilbur and Techno bring you water and medicine and towels and just everything you could ever want or need. The boys around you are snuggled into you so tightly that you are just so comfortable and could fall asleep again. Someone is playing with your hair. Another is rubbing your back. Another is messing with your fingers and someone’s fingers are trailing up and down your tummy and thighs. Philza helps you drink in a way that you don’t have to move that much and Wilbur brings up another blanket and tucks you five in while Techno places a cool rag on your forehead.
After a while, BBH comes up to tell you that the soup is ready and then without another thought, you’re being carried downstairs. Somehow, your kitchen table has been extended and there is a place for everyone. Sapnap and Punz help you sit in your seat before sitting beside you. Punz holds one of your hands while Sapnap literally feeds you the soup and everyone stares at him in jealousy because they wish they would have thought of that. As you’re eating, everyone tells you about how the jobs they were assigned got done and how you don’t have to worry about anything. After eating, many people have to leave to get back to what they were doing, but many stay. There’s probably more than ten people on your bed after lunch, you didn’t even know it could fit that many, but you don’t mind. It’s nice and even though you’re sick, you’ve never felt better.
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