Katsuki Bakugo, you heard about the ash-blond when you were in the entrance exam. He was strong and handsome, according to your childhood friend who went to the same middle school, but apparently, he had a shit personality. You walk down the long, winding halls of UA High School when you bump into a broad shoulder, hitting your smaller frame. When you hit the ground, you looked up to see none other than the same blond your friend was talking about. You tried to speak, but he had cut you off before you could even open your mouth.
"Watch where you're going, you damn extra," *he said, practically shouting in your direction as he stomped off into a classroom. What a bratty attitude you thought before your whole mood dropped. He had gone into the same classroom that you were assigned to...just great.
You tried to ignore him for weeks, but it was difficult since you shared mutual friends like Mina and Kirishima. They were kind and frequently invited you to hang out, and most of the time, Bakugo would be present as well. In mid-February, dismay struck when Mr. Aizawa assigned you and Bakugo to work together on a major project that would account for a big chunk of your grade. You were freaking out. What if he didn't want to work with you? What if he flat out didnt do his part?
For the first few weeks, it was hell on earth, you would try to ask him about the project or even invite him to the library or cafe with no luck of him responding to you in getting a full sentence. You were about to give up when he walked over to you at the end of class. "We can meet near the school library on Saturday at 3 pm, you better not be late or else i wont wait for your ass." He gruffed out before he was dragged away by Denki and Kirishima.
Saturday came in a blur as you get up for the day and take a quick shower, as you slip into a casual pair of baggy jeans and a white T-shirt underneath a basic black hoodie. You grabbed your bag and hurried to the train station. It was already 2:45 pm as you rushed into the library and scanned around to find the blond. You spot him in the corner, and you would be lying if you didn't say he was handsome. He wore some loose denim jeans and a black shirt with a skull on it. He had some chains on his pants, and he looked really good (for once).
You sink down onto the chair beside him as you take out your books. turning to him as he took his headphones off. "What the hell took you so long?" he asked as he pulled his laptop out. "Sorry! The train took longer then i expected!" You explained quickly as you started to research. For a couple of hours, you sit in silence, only breaking it when you have a question or if you want to double-check something with him. He wasn't as bad as you thought he was going to be. He was kind (in his own way), and he seemed as smart as you thought he was.
Finally finishing for the day, you two parted ways, but before he could leave, you grabbed his shirt so he wouldn't leave. "Can I have your number?" You asked sheepishly as you looked in his darkish crimson eyes, waiting for a response before he yanked his shirt back and pulled out his phone, "Here extra, just dont think you can text me whenever though," He says as he scowls as you input your phone number.
Maybe just maybe Katsuki Bakugo isn't as bad as you thought he was.
Synopsis: breaking up with Clark Kent had giving you enough time to reminisce over all the time you spent together.
Kansas fields were yellow with the change from summer to fall, just in time for the harvest. Manure and hay fever was enough to make anybodies eyes water.
Clark Kent had a way with words that had any girl beaming from ear to ear in the Smallville High School. Especially you. Spending hours on back roads in his dad's beat up Chevy that he drove too and from school, spending hours upon hours working on the engine after it died on old back roads. You had the joys of settling in beside him while watching his endless muscles work on the truck before shifting the truck back into gear to get back to where ever you were heading. Even if it was way past curfew he'd still stop the truck in empty fields," The way your eyes shine put the stars to shame tonight."
"That's a lie." You would say, blush creeping across your face with a cheesy grin matching Clark.
You had spent years with Clark. Closer than two peas in the pod. Started dating as freshman and sophomore. Every hour of every day spent together whether it was spending midnights in the lake or matinee watching the newest films. Sharing the popcorn and milk duds. Three proms and home coming dances. Clark receiving his college acceptance letter to the U of M, University of Metropolis, his first pick.
But then summer came to an end, and so did the relationship. He was polite, stumbling over his words like he normally does but this time with more anxiety than he normally had.
"I- I don't know how well the long distance will work - not that I don't trust you. I trust you. I- maybe if you get into U of M- we can get back together-" His words seemed jumbled but what else was to be expected? The city was hours away from Smallville and you still had your entire senior year to think about.
Autumn semester saw more tears that what you believe possible.
It was hard not to send him the letters full of remorse and almost revenge. Hoping he thinks of me everytime he hears my favorite artist or sees somebody who looks like me. It was hard not to look back and find it all a little bit bittersweet.
September turned to November. Fall break, just enough time for Thanksgiving. And Clark was back for the first time since then, standing on my lane. There, he left a letter on my front door step. And the first thing that you read;
Dear Y/N
Hopefully this letter finds you better than I left you. I think know that you're probably still angry with me and I am sorry.
These last few months have been filled with memories and thoughts about calling you. I was afraid you wouldn't have answered my calls. Everytime I turn the radio on it takes me back to that night when we swam in the lake under the moonlight where you wore that black dress. The night when I said youre eyes put the stars to shame.
I just wanted to say im sorry.
- Clark Kent,
P.S.: John and Martha still want to see you over for Thanksgiving.
P.P.S: I would love to take you to see the christmas lights before I go back to school, if you'd still let me
The letter was moving enough to get you to take your own beater car to his family farm. It only took you long enough to out the vehicle in park before he had practically ripped the door off the hinges and pulled you from the driver's seat into his arms.
"The way your eyes shine put the Metropolis lights to shame." Clark whispers, face tucked into your neck, inhaling you.
"That's a lie." You mutter, hugging him back, sniffing back new tears.
Here is a snippet (the first 2k words) of my new Bojack Horseman - inspired AU fanfic about Soukoku
feel free to ask, critic or just interact with this post "0u0
“Chūya, what are you doin’?”, Shirase asked as he walked past Chūya, who tiredly laid on the couch, his feet up in the air, clearly resting. “What does it look like? I’m collecting my energy.” He replied unbothered and Shirase scoffed, “I hope, you’re being for real, you’ll need it. Because Dazai from the MM is coming over later.”
Chūya jumped awake on the couch, “What?”
“Don’t yell!”, Shirase sighed, leaning over the couch, calm and collected. His white hair hung in his face, he looked like an idiot, Chūya thought. “Who the fuck is Dazai and what’s he got to do with the Movie Mafia? Today’s my day off!”
Shirase rolled his eyes at him, “You’ve never heard of the guy? He’s Mori’s new prodigy, rumour has it.” Chūya tried recalling the name, it certainly sounded familiar. He stood up, walked past the couch, to grab himself a cold drink from the fridge—it hit him, “The Dazai from that one crappy sitcom?”
Shirase grinned, “Exactly him.”
Chūya laughed, nearly choking on his soda, “Why the fuck is he visiting us on my free day? I’ve got better things to do.” This was Chūya’s first day off work after the arthouse project he and his friends had been working on. It had been a draining week altogether, trying to afford rent and be able to get food on the table for all three of them.
“It’s a casting. MM’s looking for a new star he said.” Shirase says, as he turned around to capture Chūya’s expression. Now, he actually choked on his drink and some soda spewed from his nose, “They want to interview us?!”
Shirase shrugs, “Apparently.” He seemed a bit bitter about it, like he was jealous. It’s obvious that Shirase and Yuan weren’t as good of actors as Chūya, but that was because they rather preferred editing—Yuan’s job. And shooting the takes—usually what Shirase does. Was Shirase jealous of Chūya’s work opportunity? Honestly, who wouldn’t be? The Movie Mafia—even though it is a terribly corny name—has the greatest reputation in Japan movie history. They have every popular actor signed, people like Kōyō Ozaki. She’s a big fish, for sure. Chūya loves her work. Sure, her movies were all romances and pretty sappy so far, but she is such a talented woman, there was something profound in them and a bit of romance in a movie never hurt anyone.
Chūya finished his soda and threw the can into a corner, “When’s he due to arrive?”
“Half an hour?”, Shirase guesses as he takes a look at his wrist-watch. Chūya bit his tongue, “Seriously? Why did you tell me just now?”, he asked angrily. Shirase scoffed, “I’ve been busy too, you know.”
“Whatever.” Chūya sighed disappointed and went to his room to find unstained, normal-ish clothes to wear for the interview or casting or whatever. His usual outfits are very… on the nose. He barely wears anything. It’s part of the whole vibe, he explains when asked. The truth is, he can’t afford non-ripped shirts or clean jeans. But the style goes along with his personality—angry and fucking cool.
Once he found something appropriate to wear, he searches for his eyeliner. Of course that fucking pencil is always gone. Angrily, he stomps through the flat, “Shirase, can I borrow your eyeliner?”
Shirase turns around, unbothered, “Sure.” And then walks in to his own room. Chūya impatiently waited until he returned, “Here.” Chūya didn’t thank him but took the eyeliner from him. He turned to the next-best mirror, applying the sharp, black lines to his eyes.
“Chūya?” Shirase asks, watching him.
“Hm?”
“Can you try to be nice to Dazai?” Shirase requested, “I’m not trying to mean but this could be our chance at fame, you know.”
Chūya sighed and nodded, still more interested in his makeup, “Yeah…” Chūya’s got the same money problems as his friends, of course, he’s not stupid enough to fuck up this potential gig. He knows he can be mean, a lot of the time, but it’s not like he enjoys it.
Shirase still didn’t abide his eyes, “You love castings anyway. And acting. Just… stay positive, right? Act like it.”
“Yes.” Chūya replies, his patience running thing. He doesn’t like the way Shirase has that judgemental undertone whenever he talks to him.
“Dazai, are you sure?”, Mori Ougai asked him over the phone. Dazai, in his entire attire, the black coat, the bandages and his sunglasses, nodded tiredly before realising Mori wouldn’t be able to see. “I am the one who suggested finding a new face, wasn’t I? Also, did I ever fail to commit to my work, Sir?”, Dazai replies, his voice monotone. He strode through the poor part of the city—the last time he was here, was when he was still just a child, before Mori walked these streets and picked him up. How ironical.
Dazai itched his wrist, awaiting Mori’s further command.
“You’ve never disappointed me until so far. But there’s always a first. This isn’t typical of you, Dazai but I do trust your instincts. Goodbye for now.” And with that, the call was over. Lazily, he put his phone back into his coat’s pocket. Mori was right, this was out of the box for him. After that stupid sitcom, nearly everything would be anyway. He stopped acting after that literal shitshow—at least for the time being. Since then, he was helping people out on sets, with hiring and especially writing. But doing the castings for a movie he didn’t even write the script for? Dangerous. If he doesn’t watch his every step carefully, Mori will find out to what he’s truly up to.
Dazai was getting weird stares from all around, no wonder truly. It was the middle of July and there he was, a teenaged boy in a thick, black coat and what wasn’t hidden behind that, was covered by bandages. He wasn’t sweating beneath this whole thing, but people wouldn’t know that.
He was lucky poor people don’t have time for TV, for if they did, these streets would’ve looked entirely different. Usually, wherever he goes, crowds follow him, begging for signatures, interviews and all that stuff, but Dazai never cared for his fame, he doesn’t care about anything.
The same question over and over, it sickens him: “Are you that emo from ‘Biting the Bullet’?”
Yes, God, he is. Stop asking. Please.
He checked the street mark, he was nearly there. As he came closer to the Sheep’s Studio, he actually grew nervous. Dazai had his hopes up high. Chūya Nakahara better not disappoint.
Of course, he also did a background check up on this boy’s life, before putting any in him. Chūya can’t disappoint. The Sheep’s Studio wasn’t Chūya’s own agency but rather his friends’—Shirase and Yuan—owned it and employed the talented red hair. Hopefully they wouldn’t be around…, Dazai prayed. It always gets so awkward between signing deals and agents fighting over them. But most importantly what he prayed for, was that Chūya would appear in the first place. Sure, the MM is a big fucking deal but he heard that getting him on board for things that aren’t right up his alley, he tends to not care about them. He guesses, that’s passion for you, but it won’t get him far in life. Dazai came here himself because they are the same age. Out of all the people in the MM he should be the best fit to get Chūya on board.
Dazai himself didn’t really care about finding a new star, by the way. All this was a huge favour for one of his coworkers. Kōyō Ozaki, she’s old iron by now and he wouldn’t dare disrespect her. Well, he does, every time he steals her cigarettes during events but that was as far as their relationship went. Kōyō was in for a new movie and requested someone finding fresh meat, as she put it. Dazai was just unlucky enough to be within her range to be picked as her manager for the project.
As a reward, he’d also get a role. Yay?
Well, Mori would be happy about that at least. But Mori would never know that this was how it played out. Mori would be furious if he knew that Dazai had been lying to his face and over the phone, saying he was taking the initiative and all that on his own. He wants to please Mori by acting again and keeping Kōyō at bay.
By doing this favour for Kōyō, he hits two birds with one stone. Ghost-writing scripts, editing and helping out co-workers like Kōyō, was after all just a thing on the side to take a break from all the fucked up things that happened on set. He wasn’t supposed to find his co-workers actors, that was an agent’s job, but everyone knows that agents don’t do shit around here. He’s got a friend in hiring and that man does nothing but get drunk all day, Odasaku.
Well, at least he used to. Odasaku was supposed to leave the country to widen the range of hiring. After meeting Dazai, he requested to stay to make sure the kid is fine. Mori, as a nice boss and employer, naturally allowed him to but told him to switch career paths. Nowadays he writes scripts for shows and movies. Mori wasn’t even able to fire him over it because the lawyer he was relying on was Ango.
Odasaku, him and the lawyer from MM’s legal affairs are drinking buddies. It’s certainly a strange friendship and no one knows how it started but Mori dislikes it. Dazai only found out about the entire thing after talking with Elise about it, who was venting about her father that never is around.
Wait. What in the fuck did I just do. I just spent five fucking hours writing a set up chapter to a Lumione smut. What the actual fuck. Why the actual fuck? I’d never thought of that as a thing until today. Suddenly I’m googling how old he’d be if she’s 30 (he’s 55 or 56 and that’s an age gap I could personally see for me if I was the younger so I felt ok writing it. It’s a big gap I know. But if the younger person is 30 then they are at least definitely an adult.) and how tall he’d be compared to her if they were the heights if the people that portrayed them.
I know I’ve explained this before but it bears repeating. Once an actor/actress plays a character then they are now two separate entities. I’m not picturing Jason Isaacs and Emma Watson. Like not at all. I’m picturing Lucius and Hermione. They’re stylized and perfected and edited. So no. I do not find this slash disturbing under these parameters. Just trying to imagine the actual people even getting into an aromantic but intimate conversation feels awkward. But adult Hermione on her own is ok.
Untitled
If she had to admit it she would only do so under threats of harm to her loved ones. And even some of them would be a little worse for wear before she acquiesced. But wine drunk in her empty flat, alone in the after midnight hours she would not deny that from ages fifteen to twenty two she had found Draco Malfoy good looking. In an arrogant, coldly pretty way. But she had nevertheless had an errant fantasy or two of his pale skin slick against hers his grey eyes full of lust.
If she had to admit her next thought, only irreparable, drastically quality of life altering, or fatal harm to her innermost family would pull it out of her. But wine drunk in her empty flat, alone in the midnight hours she would admit that, for the last few months, she had actually found Draco’s father, Lucius, far more attractive.
Draco had been, and still was in all honesty, prettier. Smoother. Softer in a sense, not in a physical way but somehow she got the sense that he’d never ~try~ for her. He’d let her go after a minor tiff if he didn’t feel like arguing. Hell, he’d let her walk away with another man if he thought he could get his needs of the night met elsewhere instead of playing protective boyfriend.
Lucius though. He was not soft. He was older, rougher, tougher. He had elegance, confidence, wit and most exciting of all, he had intelligence in his dark slate gaze. He would stare down an approaching potential suitor before the thought of talking to her ever crossed their mind. He would counter and reason and work out the fight and he’d work for a solution. Hell, he starred in a few of her more far fetched and bizarre fantasies. She’d need to be rescued and he’d be there as her savage hero in her very own ‘touch her and die’ story.
After things went to shite with Ron she had been throwing herself into ministry work a little more. She was just grateful they’d never had kids. But then Harry had gone off the grid. With every passing week without word she threw herself harder at her work. If she couldn’t fix her life she would help others fix theirs.
Over the first three months she found herself at the ministry for twelve, even sixteen hours at a time, six days a week. She’d have gone on Saturday as well but the ministry had set up a ward that kept her out “for one day a week Ms. Granger and that’s because you’ll work yourself to death if we don’t intervene.”
So for the last nine Saturdays in a row she had gone to a muggle library in London. And for the last nine Saturdays she had seen Mr. Malfoy tucked away in said library reading.
The first time she saw him he was wearing muggle business casual and sitting at a table. He was reading a relatively modern hardcover she couldn’t see the name of. She wasn’t sure it was him at first. It was so incongruous that she had done a double take. Then she had sneaked around a far shelf and peered at him, spying on him like she used to do on his son. He read for a while, stood up, put his coat back on and grabbed his cane. It was the cane with its concealed wand space that told her for sure that she wasn’t seeing things.
She had decided not to follow him. His magical limitations and most of the tracking spells had expired and he was clever enough to disappear before she ever got to the end of the row. Next time she really was there to kill time by finding a book or four to kill time with later. She gasped quietly when she turned a corner and saw him reaching for a book above his head. Coatless and long-limbed, he stretched on his toes, causing his dress shirt to untuck from his waistband. She saw a brief flash of toned abs. He dropped silently to flat feet and spun but she had ducked around the side of the row and quickly started losing herself in the maze of a library. She had just had time to think, “that man is fit, even for someone much younger.”
She sought him out every time after. He was always somewhere different. Sometimes she would be lucky in her encounter and she could spy without having risked his attention. Other times she practically ran into him. She knew she could, even with only muggle means already at her disposal, easily disguise herself well enough that she could practically fall on top of him and he’d never know who she was. But it became a sort of game to her. It gave her something to plan that wasn’t politically motivated. She was able to gather information - Lucius could hold his own in topics she didn’t think he had any knowledge of, interest in, or anything other than dislike for.
People didn’t always engage him in conversation mist weeks. She had listened for three hours today as he charmingly held conference with a group of four nans that had somehow surrounded him in a designated reading/discussion area. Never once did he insult them. Never once did his arrogance or general air of just being a dick show. Instead he told one of the ladies to try planting her herbs in a different configuration for mutual benefits for the neighboring plants. She didn’t know he knew anything about what herbs even were beyond “flavors,” but he not only recognized the muggle names for a few potion ingredients, he was also pretty spot on with the advice as well.
Another of the nans had asked him about something mechanical and he smoothly told her, “Madam, I am a gentleman. I know as much perhaps more about flying carpets, than I do about those contraptions.” They had giggled at his mock outrage at having been mistaken for one who would be expected to know those things.
She loved the sound of his voice. He could do so many things just by changing his tone. She’d heard him spitting his curses like venom, heard him stand authoritatively and give orders that brooked no sass back. Anger burned in his words when he wished it to, sharp enough on his tongue to cut glass.
But his low pleased laugh. The cheek he could exude in a few short syllables. The over all charm. He sounded like chocolate made her tongue feel. She closed her eyes, back pressed to the shelving that separated them from sight. She sucked her lower lip, catching the corner between her teeth. She sighed as she let herself imagine what it would feel like to hear other emotions through his words.
“That can be arranged, Ms. Granger.”
She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and barely stopped herself from yelping. She held both hands to her mouth, eyes still closed, heart racing. Maybe she thought he wouldn’t be there when she opened her eyes. But he was.
He leaned against the shelves across from her, as far apart as they could get. He had on black trousers, a black button down, and a green serpent patterned tie. His hair was long and sleekly silver-white, with braids over his ears keeping the locks from his face.
He was at least five or six inches taller than her but he had negated some of it by leaning back.
Hastily she removed her hands from her mouth.
“Mr. Malfoy. Pleasure to see you again.” She was startled. A little nervous. But never rude. Not to someone whose intent wasn’t yet clear while they were in a public, muggle, building. She fumbled for a tissue or a McDonald’s napkin or anything but her sleeve to dab her lip with.
“Hmm,” his lip quirked. “I’d say it was at least a small measure based on what you’ve been thinking.” As she had been patting pockets and checking her small bag, he had stood and closed the gap. “Here.” He handed her a folded handkerchief. It was green like the tie but not silk. “Blood stains are nothing to worry over Ms. Granger. But you’re going to need to do some washing yourself if you let yourself bleed any more.
Quickly she placed the cloth to her lip.
“Would you care to accompany me? I think we have several things we should have a chat about. For instance, your unlawful surveillance and potential harassment charge?” His eyebrow raised with the question but there was nothing dangerous or even irritated in it. She nodded.
He led her through a few corridors and down a flight of stairs before stopping at a door. He grabbed the knob, paused a second, then opened the door and led her in, flipping a light switch as he entered. She was starting to get edgy. He’d just used a wordless and, for all intents and purposes, wandless spell to get them in. He was familiar enough with the place to know where the switch was. He was bigger and stronger than her. And he knew more offense spells than she did so her best chance would be to leave now or play defense. This had been a bad idea.
“Tut tut,” he said softly, and it almost sounded disappointed. He put his cane with his wand on top of a desk on the left and then passed her to go sit on the worn couch across from it. “I would not attack you. Not here. Not now.”
“But it’s not off the table completely again?” Her voice didn’t waver as she watched him. She’d literally just seen him do magic without words or really touching his actual wand at all. He merely touched what was essentially a storage device. So no, leaving his wand across the room wasn’t exactly reassuring.
He laughed. She’d never heard him laugh above library volume and it was a beautiful thrum to her.
“I know the room and layout here because sometimes it gets overwhelming and I need to be away from people but still do some work. I found this room to be an old school study space that’s disused and forgotten. I can ward it and keep my privacy and sanity. There’s no conspiracy, no danger here.”
“What do you mean by “overwhelming” and “keep your sanity?” She’d caught the specific reasoning and she was frantically recalling what he’d said to her. Something about her thoughts. Twice. She had an idea what he was going to say.
“Ms. Granger.”
“Hermione. Please Mr. Malfoy. ‘Ms. Granger’ makes me feel like I’m being scolded.”
“Hermione. I suppose that makes me Lucius for you. Though I’ll by no means make you say anything at all.”
“Lucius.” She tested it. She’d spoken his name aloud before but never without savagery and hatred. “Alright. Why did you say things that way.”
Lucius sank back into the couch, lounging with an arm across the back and the other over the arm if the couch. He was relaxed enough that his legs stretched out at a catty corner angle to the cushions. She stayed standing, out of his reach.
“That’s a semi personal question that I regret allowing to come up. But I will make you a deal. I will tell you what I meant if you tell me why you’ve been following me.”
She hadn’t been in any official capacity. So she could tell him a reasonable approximation of the truth.
“You first.” She challenged.
“Very well. As you may or may not know, I am and have always been adept at Legilimency.”
She hadn’t known. But she didn’t indicate anything.
“What is not as widely known as even that is that after years of having my own mind delved into and manipulated at the will of an evil man hurt my natural powers. There are times when I cannot control whether I can hear what those around me are thinking. It can be a minor irritation of one person’s constant internal voice reading or it can be a cacophony of minds that I cannot separate or shut off. Were I not able to find a private space to get under control again I would have to leave for the day.”
“I didn’t know that you’d been magically injured.”
“Not many do. I don’t exactly spread it about. There are plenty who would take advantage of a perceived weakness and more still who would think nothing but pity until I snap. I’m hoping you do not fall into either category.”
She really didn’t think she did. Her initial pity had been that he had suffered so long without relief that it caused permanent harm. But she didn’t pity him in the here and now. Right now she thought him stronger and resourceful as always.
“Your turn. Hermione.” He raised his hand off the arm of the couch, splayed his fingers, and rested his chin in his hand, staring intently at her. His eyes were stormy. She could see he was definitely thinking strongly about something but she had no idea what it was. She just knew somehow that it wasn’t malicious.
“I wasn’t following you. At first. You just happened to be here when I wandered in the first time. I admit, I spied long enough to be sure it was truly you because,” she raised her arms in an everything gesture, “why the hell would you have all men be here? It didn’t and still makes no sense.”
“I see. Go on.”
She started to pace as she got into get story. She always had restless energy when she was trying to explain something she deemed high importance enough to get as detailed as possible. “The second time. I was startled to run into your path in a different area. It made me yelp to see you again and I thought you’d probably heard me so I left.”
“Ah. The ‘fit’ comment.”
“Precisely.” She agreed and kept on. “After it became apparent that you were indeed there on Saturdays I kept coming back because it made me feel excited again having a mystery to solve and something to do besides researching books all day and -“ she stopped dead mid stride. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes became wide and anxious. “The … the ‘“fit” comment.’” She trailed into a whisper. “You. You. Aw Merlin’s left bollock.” She blushed from her collarbones to her hair.
His laugh coated her in its pleased tones.
“Ms. Granger. Hermione. Please.” He continued to smile at her. “Come. Sit.” He pulled his legs up and gestured towards the other end of the couch. She watched as he gracefully adjusted his body until he had his back to the armrest, but his knees were bent and his feet were flat on the floor. “I don’t bite.”
And she prayed to every deity that ever existed that he didn’t hear her thinking “even if I ask?” She couldn’t tell. So she sat across from him, mirroring his pose. It took her a few tries but she was able yo look up and meet his eyes despite heat still burning in her cheeks.
“If it makes you feel any better, it is quite the compliment. Especially from such a woman as you.”
The way he called her a woman sounded warm and appreciative. She rather liked how he described her as such.
“Well, Lucius. I suppose it won’t do any good to lie about it. Yes. I was taken by surprise and I do not not regret that it is true and I meant it as such. I do apologize for being so crass and rude for having objectified you.”
“A true Muggle Liaison of your time. You worry that personal thoughts not meant to be shared could ever be offensive. You do not live in an Orwellian dystopia. No one should censor your thoughts. In fact, if they’re all so kind to an old man, I wouldn’t mind hearing more.”
She was gaping again. She couldn’t help it. “You. You, Lucius Malfoy, have not only read, but understood and referenced a muggle novel?”
“I do believe I have demonstrated that I indeed know how to read. Why does that surprise you that I actually do read?” He was teasing her. Almost playful.
“It’s not that you can and do. It’s not even that you were able to recall and use from what you read. It’s the fact that it’s. A. Muggle. Novel. They make school children read and analyze it. Why would you deign to read it and the acknowledge that you did?”
“Because situations change. People, Muggles especially, have changed as a society. There are decades of information that has been neglected by the wizarding world. And yes.” He held his hand up to pause her, “I know. I had been told for decades about what muggles were without ever interacting with them in any way. My world was so insulated that muggles were almost fairy tales. I knew what I had been told and no one had updated my teachers to current reality.
We fell behind and clung to the beliefs that muggles were dumb and useless and distanced ourselves until there was no overlap to prove how wrong we really were. Does it make up for anything I’ve done? No. But I still intend to absorb what I can about the reality of things. And one of those realities is that muggles … have written a lot of good books, on topics that overlap the magical world. I am not so proud any more as to not admit being wrong. I’d look more the fool were I to continue to ignore the truth to prop up a useless pride.”
He was honest. He was nonchalant. He watched her intently.
She tried to suck her lip under her teeth again in her nervous habit but the pain from having bitten herself easier made her draw a short hiss.
“May I?”
She wasn’t sure what he was asking. He leaned forward and held his hand up. Automatically she leaned forward until his fingertips touched her chin just below her bite mark. “May you what?” She was breathy, nervous but she didn’t shy away.
“This.” He was equally quiet. Without a sound, a gentle warmth spread from where he made contact up through her lip. A second later the warmth evaporated and he dropped his hand. She gingerly touched where she’d been bleeding before.
“You. You…” She was rarely so at a loss for words. Then she said in a calm low hush, “You can do that? Lucius, healing spells are notoriously difficult to perform either wordless or wandless. Yet you can do it without either? That’s incredible.”
He smiled and it wasn’t at all the cold aristocratic sneer that used to taunt her. It was a slightly lopsided pleased little smile and she thought it looked quite good on him.
“Ah and now it seems we have reached the end of our agreed upon tête-à-tête. Unless you have more you wish to discuss?”
“Oh, um. No. I suppose I don’t really. I should. Ah. Probably should let you get back to your reading or work or whatever you’re doing. Thank you for the spell Lucius.” She got up and he rose (unfairly gracefully if she was honest with herself) to see her out.
It wasn’t until she got back to her flat and started unwinding and settling in that she found a note slipped into her pocket. The note that had led to this impromptu wine evening and her reluctance to solidify her attraction by speaking it out loud.
“Hermione,
“Fit” isn’t the only thing you’ve called me lately. For some reason I can always hear you when you find me. Not all your thoughts, I assure you. But certain, sudden and emotionally charged things have been increasingly difficult to continue to ignore.
I will spare you from reading back your words in my hand.
I promise, I will never speak of what you’ve thought again. Not to you or anyone. I will leave you entirely to your own devices for the rest of my life if you wish. However, I also will not back down or leave if you bring the subject up with me.
All I ask is that next week you tell me if you choose that we do not meet ever again. Anything other than that I will leave to you. The ball is, as they say, in your court. I hope, based on the little information I have, that you wish not to end our association. But I will do as you wish.
L.M. “
Well. Fuck. Now what. He basically said he knew she was having increasingly desirous thoughts about him but he was letting her set the boundaries, rules, and pace. It was by the grace of god, the luck of the Irish, and the wind in the willows that she hadn’t had a full blown fantasy in his vicinity.
She was torn. On the one hand was the past and a seemingly irreparable divide between their very existences. There was the feeling that she’d somehow be betraying everyone and sleeping with the enemy. People might condemn her or accuse him of manipulating or outright spelling her. On the other hand, this version of Lucius wasn’t so big and scary as he was in her teens. He’d paid his dues as ordered. He’d been low profile and she’d even heard he was holding down employment though no one knew where. Was it really betrayal of anyone really? Ron wouldn’t exactly be pleased but he also didn’t give a flying dick about her anymore anyway so did it matter if he felt betrayed? And Harry wasn’t even around any more. So did it matter if he felt betrayed? She figured that he at least could be shown reason, and would have at least give Lucius a chance eventually. Hell, she figured she had a good shot of getting most people off of her back.
Not only all that but she was a grown woman. He was an adult man. They had mutual interest it seemed.
Pinkamena: Beyond Redemption(?) - Chapters 1 & 2 out now!
'I am|Nobody is|Are you: Beyond Redemption.'
It has been a good few months since Pinkamena Diane Pie won the Reaper's Game and was fully brought back to life. Things have been going well for her as she keeps trying to live her own life and start anew. But a chance mistaken encounter one night pulls her into a whole other side of Equestria. One of the nightlife, crime, and corruption. As she falls deeper in, she finds herself dealing with wants of romance, joy, and seeing what awaits for her beyond redemption.
Click Here to read on Fimfiction!
Click Here to read on AO3!
Hello everyone, I'd like to introduce you to my brand new and on going Pinkamena fic! It's already pretty long at 20K+ words so if you're hoping for a fic with more meat on it's bones, hopefully this is the one for you! Do you like crime stories? Thrillers? Weird, fucked up genuine tales? Black lesbians? We're up your alley!
Please consider leaving your thoughts and commenting on the thing too, as feedback and thoughts help make me a better writer!
Big, big thanks to @lets-ignore-that for the art, I'm honest to God in love with it and am so thankful that I got to work with such an amazing artist to make my girl look even more amazing. Please consider giving him your support, checking him out, and even commissioning him if you gel with his stuff.
Author's Notes under Keep Reading!
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Chapter 1:
So here we are, back again. And whoo, am I excited.
Originally, I had planned to continue the Pinkamena story directly in the chapters of the first story. I had ideas on what I wanted to do, both the big picture and the small picture. But when I tried writing... nothing was coming. It was like I was hitting a wall and I didn't know why. I was worried I was going to fall back into the long absence with this thing, especially as I was having a blast writing for my Danganronpa piece.
So what happened? I got a piece featuring one of my characters: Minerva, as a gift for a Secret Santa event. And it was really, really good. It was something that fully understood Minerva as a character and made me happy to see. I get ecstatic when others do pieces for my characters. And it rejuvenated me.
It wasn't just that. I've also seen so much great pieces of film and writing and art and it's not only reaffirmed my love of this kind of stuff, but also just been great inspirations and kicks in general for the kind of stories I want to write here. Seeing the trailers for things like Stranger than Heaven and going back to the PS2 and PSP Yakuza titles, Fallen Aces, and a lovely book called Harlem Shuffle made me have a real want for crime drama thrillers. Meanwhile watching stuff like the trailers for Romeo is a Deadman, Absolute Martian Manhunter, and the Chainsaw Man movie made me remember I love the weird and the fucked up and the genuine. It all just came together.
If there's one thing I'll always say to any writers in fandom. Expand your taste in the art! Read a book you find at the discount store, try an old movie that's called a classic, play a game from the PS2 or like a Visual Novel. There's so much out there, and you'll find your voice and kinds of pieces you want to write more easily just by checking it out.
As for the vibes of this, I can't fully say what all I'm going to do just yet, but I promise it will be indulgent. This is a black lesbian crime thriller, and I do want it to go places. I want to go freakshit on this and god I'm going to do my best.
I have no idea how any of this will go down. But I can say, I'm gonna give it my all. I hope it doesn't get the beating that the last one did, though even if it does? All I'm hoping is to hear your thoughts on it. That sound good?
Chapter 2:
Originally I intended for this chapter to only be about 5K or so, a smaller sample... but it just kinda grew and grew and I enjoyed writing it so here we are. 17K goddamn words. Teehee. Good to be back.
On Twitter there's a tiny bit of a push back over a very simple post asking for fanfic authors to format their dialogue in a story like you would a normal book. It really is surreal when people treat fanfiction as this genre of writing where those kinds of things don't need to matter. That's not how you should do it!
To me, while Fanfiction is always going to be disadvantaged because it's creating something that is based on the work of another, it is still writing and should be treated as such. Like I've said, use it to learn and grow your writing skills, find inspirations in the other arts around you and not just fanfics! The greatest comic books, shows, and movies didn't come because their creators were just fans of that one genre. There were multiple influences, and the more you let yourself be influenced, the more you can grow as a writer and artist in general. You think fan artists and video makers weren't also pulling from other art and sources? You should do the same, and grow your tastes in the process!
Anyways, onto the actual fic itself I wanted to do something that while being a bit of a re-introduction to a lot of characters and the world around, was also just its own thing. This is part 2 of a story that's also its own thing, sometimes you just need to re-introduce characters. Especially when its been a time skip. It also gave me a chance to write about romance and love and the reasons why you love someone. Those kinds of things just matter to me, so I wanted to give it justice. Make it feel like real genuine love and affection.
The songs Minerva makes mention of in her broadcast are indeed real and pulled from the real line up of a 90s hip hop radio show called 'Funkin' Lessons', specifically their October 26th, 1994 episode. You can find it on the Hip Hop Radio Archive, which was a big help in background music to listen to while writing this story out.
I went with doing a time skip because that kind of gave me a bit of breathing room in terms of where I could put Pinkamena. She now has at least a few jobs and helps out around town instead of establishing that and her relationship with the rest of the people in town. I'm also a bit nebulous on how long it's been since the end of Redemption and now just because both months and years I think can work, though I think months is probably what I'll stick with? Doesn't matter for now.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please consider leaving a comment and feedback. Your words and thoughts help make me a better writer! Until next time!
