#blank face the asshole comments and sip my colourful drink

[paradoxolotl]

I fear I was meant to be a trophy wife

#lemme do my silly hobbies all day #I’ll look sooo pretty when we go out to your fancy events #I’ll laugh at all the dumb jokes your coworkers say and then whisper comments into your ear as we walk away #judge the hell outta the food #blank face the asshole comments and sip my colourful drink #LEMME DO IT

[harrysweasleys]

a dream is a wish // f.w

Summary: for @pit-and-the-pen’s writing event! 

Reader can’t stand Fred Weasley, but what happens when a dream changes that?

Prompts: “do you have to be that painfully beautiful?” x “well, if you saw yourself how I saw you, could you blame me?”

Warnings: injury, maybe like one swear word?

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: this came out much later than i intended but ah! here it is! enjoy :) 

——

It was safe to say you were not a fan of Fred Weasley.

Never have been, and most likely never will be. He was always loud, boisterous, arrogant, annoying, and most of all, found pleasure in disrupting the educational system any chance he could get. I mean, who does that, right?

Whether it be causing distractions with his equally-arrogant twin during class, or setting fireworks and other shenanigans loose in the hallways, you wanted to try and avoid both of them as much as possible. 

But, it was Fred that you disliked more. He was the louder one, the one who knew exactly how to get under your skin and piss you off in all the wrong ways. The one that despite how much your friends thought him hilarious and charming, you’d never be able to get on the same page with. What was charming about someone who chose to disrespect all rules and live a carefree lifestyle?

That was not for you.

You were glad, on this day, that you could escape the confining castle walls and the hustle and bustle of the school on the weekend and make off to Hogsmeade with your pals, the cool autumn air a refreshing awakening as soon as you stepped outside. The leaves were changing colours and collecting in piles on the ground, the skies were gloomy and cloudy, and somehow, the smell of cinnamon was always in the air in the small Wizarding village.

“Can we head into Honeydukes’s afterwards?” your fellow Gryffindor, Megan, turned to ask as you guys entered the Three Broomsticks, the tip of her nose looking pink and her cheeks pale. It was rather cold for November.

“Sure thing,” you nodded, smiling in comfort at the familiar cozy atmosphere of the dingy pub. Students all around were crowded around in bundles, drinking hot butterbeer. You couldn’t wait to have one yourself.

Megan led you to the table where Ginny was sitting, a large cup of hot cocoa in her hands as she waved you guys over.

“Been waiting forever,” she grinned, “You guys go order, I’ll save your seats.”

You turned around and headed back towards the bar with Megan, the two of you catching the bartender’s attention and ordering yourselves each a nice hot butterbeer. You hadn’t felt so cold outside, but now that you were in the warmth, you could feel your fingers begin to burn as they thawed.

After a few moments wait, you grabbed the butterbeer mug between your already warm fingers and began to walk back to the table. You had to scooch around other tables and chairs, but eventually, you spotted Ginny’s red hair once more in the same table by the window.

Unfortunately, though, you spotted two other heads of red hair as well. Fred and George were crouched over their younger sister, a large Zonko’s bag on the table as they showed off their latest purchases.

“Bloody fantastic,” you groaned, causing Megan to chuckle as the two of you arrived at the table.

“Well, afternoon, ladies,” Fred grinned, taking his eyes off of his products to look at the two of you, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Is it, though?” you rolled your eyes, sitting down and placing your mug on the table, “This is a school outing. There are students everywhere.”

Fred let out a laugh, “Well, not everyone decides to participate in such festivities.”

You let out a loud sigh and frowned, looking down to your drink to distract yourself from rebutting his comment. George had run off to go see Lee and another group of Gryffindors, so at least that was one down. If only Fred could leave as well.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, you felt Megan kick your leg under the table and so you shot her a look, asking her what was up.

“Well, guess I’ve best be off,” Fred said before she could reply to your glare, “Have a lovely afternoon.” As he passed by you, he placed his hand atop your head, “Especially you.”

“Don’t touch me,” you pulled your head out from under his hand, furrowing your eyebrows and mustering up your best scowl. 

“Ah, intimidating,” Fred smirked, “I’m shaking in my bloody shoes.” Ginny and Megan stifled their laughter but you could hear them anyways. They were hardly being subtle. 

“Get out of here, Weasley,” you turned way from him and faced your butterbeer once again, trying not to let him get to you. You had to fight a blush at Ginny and Megan’s laughter as Fred walked away, his chuckle fading into the loudness of the pub.

“Anyways,” Ginny grinned, pulling her hand away from her mouth, “Let’s change the subject before Y/N explodes.”

You snapped your head up to face her, your cheeks becoming rather warm, “I’m not going to explode, thank you very much. I just can’t stand your prat brothers.”

Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulder and leaned forwards on the table, resting against her elbows, “You do a terrific job of hiding it.”

“Sorry, Gin,” you gave her a sheepish grin, “Tell them to stop being assholes. But I can try and be civil.”

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows and her and Megan exchanged a look. You ignored it, knowing they were probably thinking of something that you didn’t even want to know about, and took a long sip of butterbeer, letting the soothing, warm liquid calm you.

After sharing a nice long chat, Ginny having downed two whole hot cocoas, the three of you walked over to Honeyduke’s. The sun was gone and a thick layer of clouds covered the sky.

You really hoped it wouldn’t rain. You were chilly enough as it is. The last thing you wanted was to also be soaking wet.

Ginny held the door open as you and Megan climbed in afterwards, the warmth from the store immediately making a difference.

Megan took off to check out the latest line of sweets, her head disappearing within the busy store. Students were everywhere — eating, chatting, filling up bags of candies for long classes.

You noticed you had also lost Ginny. Where she had gone off to, you had no idea. But you took advantage of the fact that she was gone and made your way to the nearest shelf. It was incredibly tall and stacked with loads of different types of —

“Chocolate, a good choice,” a smooth voice said from behind you, causing you to jump and spin around, ready to knock over whoever had stepped close enough to speak in your ear.

You frowned as you faced Fred’s grinning figure.

“Oh, it’s you,” you rolled your eyes and turned back around, “I’d like to shop in peace. Bye bye.”

To your dismay, Fred pretended not to hear you and came to stand by your side, “As a resident expert on anything sweet — like myself — I recommend these guys.”

Fred reached up and grabbed a chocolate frog, placing it in your hand. You stared down at it, eyebrow cocked. You heard these were quite nice, honestly, but that didn’t mean you wanted to accept one from Fred.

“Why should I trust your opinion?” you glanced back up at him, a blank look on your face. 

“Because,” he replied, grabbing another one for himself, “I know my stuff.”

You glared at him before walking away, the chocolate frog still in your hand. You couldn’t reach up to put it back and there was no way in hell you’d ask Fred for help. So, to keep your pride, you’d just buy it.

“I’m just taking this,” you finally arrived at the cash, placing the single chocolate frog down in front of the young cashier.

“And this one,” Fred was somehow still behind you, placing his own chocolate frog down next to yours, “On me.”

“Oh, charming,” you sassed, turning to face him with your arms crossed, “I can afford it myself, you know. I don’t need your help.”

Fred grinned at you as he removed his wallet from his back pocket, paying for the two chocolate frogs, “I know you don’t. I’m just being sweet.”

You ignored the wink he gave you, grabbing your chocolate frog off of the counter and placing it in your coat pocket. The cold outdoor air would prevent it from melting, so you figured it was safe there.

“Well, stop being sweet,” you smiled sarcastically, re-adjusting your scarf and beginning to walk away from him. You heard him call your name, but luckily for you, Ginny and Megan found you before he could. They both had a bag each — how they had managed to each buy their own stash of candies in the short amount of time you had found one chocolate frog, you’ll never know.

“Ready to go, ladies?” Megan asked, grabbing a lolly out of her bag and unwrapping it, sticking it into her mouth as she led the three of you back into the fresh November air.

You sighed as you stepped outside, shoving your hand into your pocket, feeling the chocolate frog box sitting there. You absentmindedly fiddled with it, not even noticing you were doing so.

This would make a lovely midnight snack.

——

You know that saying; when you have a romantic dream about someone, you can’t see them the same way anymore?

Well, you usually didn’t believe that. You thought people just got too attached to their subconscious and wanted to feel things that weren’t there.

You especially didn’t want to believe it when you woke up that morning, last night’s dream crystal clear in your head. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were with anyone else — the idea of cuddling and kissing any other person on the planet would have been fine.

But no, no. Your dream decided to pair you up with the one person you didn’t want.

Fred goddamn Weasley.

It was probably only because you ate the chocolate frog he bought you. So, due to that, he was in your mind. That’s the only reasonable explanation. There was no other reason for such a dream to occur.

You hopped of bed, shaking your head every few minutes to rid yourself of the disgusting images from your head, and rushed down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, Ginny and Megan still sound asleep in their four poster beds. They’d never find out you just dreamt of yourself in a relationship with Ginny’s older brother. They’d never let you live it down.

The Great Hall was silent as you walked in, the candles lit and the tables rather empty. You spotted a few familiar faces at the Gryffindor table, but chose you’d prefer to sit alone and stew in solemn silence.

Why had your mind decided to pair you up with Fred? Why?

As if the Devil himself was playing a game, Fred, George and Lee made their appearance in the Hall doorway with loud laughter. You groaned, letting your hair fall into your face as you poured yourself a cup of tea, wishing more than anything that they wouldn’t spot you.

“Mornin’, Y/N!” Lee sat across from you, a big smile on his face. You couldn’t muster the same expression, your lips curved downwards into a scowl. Of course they’d come sit with you. Everyone else at the Gryffindor table was either a first or second year. Clearly, the universe was testing you.

“Hi, Lee,” you gave a forced smile, taking a sip of your tea and keeping your eyes away from the twins that sat on either side of him.

Although you were fine with George sitting across from you, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Fred. Whether it was due to your dislike of him or the fact that you just had a dream where you had been in love with him, you couldn’t tell. But your heartbeat was starting to quicken — and you were not liking it.

“Awfully silent this morning,” Fred smirked, resting his elbows on the table.

You stood up abruptly, gulping down the last bit of tea in your mug, “Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh — you wound me,” he placed a hand over his heart, “Are you bothered by me?”

“Well, if you saw yourself how I saw you, could you blame me?” you scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, “My morning was going fine until I saw you. Time for me to leave.”

George and Lee snickered as Fred’s smile faltered, his eyes glued to you as you scurried quickly out of the Great Hall, wishing more than anything that Fred didn’t get you as huffed and flustered as he did.

Damn him.

You couldn’t stand him. Him and his bright hair. Him and his freckled cheeks. Him and his warm eyes.

Yep, the dream didn’t change anything.

——

You were rather glad the sunshine continued to peak throughout the day — especially as you walked down to the Quidditch pitch. Playing in rain and snow was fun, sure, but there was nothing like playing on a clear, fresh day.

“Glad the weather is nice,” Ginny said from next to you as if she were reading your mind, “Should make finding the Snitch easier.”

You grinned, “Always glad when the sun’s out.”

She chuckled and opened the tent flap, letting you head in before her. The rest of the team hadn’t arrived yet which you were thankful for. It would give you time to get changed and mentally prepare before the rowdiness began. You loved most of the team to bits, but they could be quite loud. Especially the one person on the team that you didn’t like.

You seized your Quidditch robes and promptly changed into them, stepping out of the private room and immediately slouching your shoulders.

Your peace and quiet hadn’t lasted long. Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, Harry and Ginny were huddled together, laughing loudly as they each began to prepare for the game.

“Oh, Y/N, we’re going over today’s plan!” Angelina waved you over, motioning for you to join. You did as the captain said, standing close to Ginny and as far from the grinning twins as you could.

“Now, this one here,” Angelina pointed to a badly drawn diagram on a crumpled piece of parchment, “Is called Bollocks, and it’s when—,”

“Sorry,” George snickered, lifting his hand to cut her off, “You named a play Bollocks?”

“Problem?” Angelina placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, challenging him, “It was one of Wood’s old plays and might I add, it always worked brilliantly.”

You rolled your eyes at the immature reaction from the twins, wishing they’d pipe down so you could actually focus.

Fred was next to speak, “Course it was Ollie. Lad always had such wonderful names for everything.”

“Excuse me,” you found yourself speaking up, not even sure where your voice came from, “Can you stop being immature for three seconds so we can listen to Angie and maybe win this game?”

Narrowing his eyes at you, Fred scoffed, “And what exactly is it that’s set you off today? Always something, isn’t there?”

You blinked rapidly, “What?”

“You’ve always got something to say,” he continued, “Bit annoying, really.”

The tent was silent, the team stepping back slightly as if trying to avoid being caught in the crossfire. You felt your blood being to boil. Fred had never actually snapped back at you before — and for some reason, you genuinely disliked it.

“I—” your voice trailed off as you realized you didn’t even know what to say. You almost felt bad. Which was rare. You never really felt bad for telling Fred off. He usually always deserved it. Why did you feel that way this time?

“Anyways,” Angelina took her place once more, trying to cut a knife through the palpable awkwardness that was now floating around the tent. 

You were still looking at Fred, who was now facing away, his jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed. Never had you seen him this put off.

Angelina continued to explain the game plan, but you were too consumed with unwanted guilt to pay attention to every word. Why had this argument left you with such a bitter feeling? You weren’t normally left feeling sour after any sort of encounter with Fred. Was it because he actually looked upset? Was it because you felt bad? Did it have anything to do with your stupid dream?

No, no. Can’t be the dream. It was just a dream.

She finished up her speech and you took your place behind Alicia, grabbing your broom and ready to make an entrance onto the pitch. But, after your standoff with Fred, all excitement that you previously had was gone. If anything, you would much rather run back to the castle and hide away in your dorm room right about now.

“You alright?” Ginny leaned over, “He’s not actually mad, y’know? Just loses his temper sometimes.”

“I feel bad,” you whispered back, your grip on the broom tightening, “I’ll apologize later.”

Ginny smiled at you, not able to say much more as the lot of you walked out onto the field and came face to face with your opponent. The loud cheers from the crowd helped lift your spirits slightly, but you couldn’t help sneaking another peak at Fred. He was laughing at something Angelina had said, all traces of his previous anger gone.

Maybe Ginny was right, perhaps he wasn’t angry. You felt you needed to apologize anyways, but hopefully it would be forgotten and things could just go back to normal. Whatever normal was.

The whistle blew to signal the beginning of the match, causing you to kick off the ground and take off, ready to bring to life your game plan with your fellow Chasers. You pushed past your bad feelings and focused solely on the match ahead, causing Gryffindor to take an early lead.

Ten minutes in and you were up thirty to zero, two of those goals scored by yours truly. You celebrated both with the rest of the team team, noticing, however, how Fred didn’t come to join both times. He seemed rather thrilled when Alicia scored, though.

Why was this bothering you?

You shook your head and continued the game. Another ten minutes in and Angelina put another one in, leaving you guys up forty to nothing.

You were ready to execute another play — Bollocks, specifically — when you heard your name being shouted.

“Look out!” Ginny’s eyes were wide as she called out to you.

You gave her a puzzled look, ready to turn around and see what she was pointing at, but you didn’t have the chance to do so.

The Bludger knocked into your arm, causing you to completely lose balance and topple off of your broom. Unbearable pain spread throughout your body, the point of contact on your arm throbbing violently as the world around you spun out of focus. The entire audience gasped as you began to plummet towards the ground.

Sixty feet? Seventy, maybe?

You could hear people shouting your name but you couldn’t open your eyes, bracing yourself for impact. Your head felt heavy, your heart skipping beats.

You tried to squint your eyes open, but all you could see was the blue of the sky and something orange and red flash by.

That was the last thing you saw before your vision went dark.

——

The Hospital Wing at night was usually deserted. The moonlight would shine through the windows onto the empty beds and Madam Pomfrey would retire to her room early. But not tonight.

Tonight, they were all gathered around you.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” Megan asked, seated by your side and holding your hand tightly in hers, “It was really scary to see you fall.”

“I’m fine, Meg,” you replied with a low chuckle, your voice coarse from having been asleep — or passed out — for a few hours, “I don’t even remember hitting the ground.”

“That’s because you didn’t hit the ground,” Ginny sat down on the other side of the bed, arms crossed and a light smirk on her lips, “You got saved before you made impact.” She looked tired, but you were incredibly glad she was here.

“She’s right,” Megan piped up, now wearing the same smirk, “Madam Pomfrey say you passed out due to the Bludger impact and the speed in which you feel. Hitting the ground had nothing to do with it because you didn’t hit the ground.”

You looked between the two, your eyebrows furrowed and your mind not fully wrapping around their words. You had to have hit the ground, right?

“How did I not hit the ground?” you coughed slightly as you spoke, reaching over to the small table next to you and grabbing your glass of water, taking a small sip to hopefully soothe your throat.

“Fred caught you,” Ginny replied tentatively.

You spat the water back out, spraying the bedspread and probably Megan and Ginny’s faces as well, “I’m sorry — what?”

Megan answered, wiping at her eye, “Yep. He caught you right as you passed out.”

You stated at them, your eyes feeling as if they were as wide as saucers. There was no way Fred saved you, was there? Was he the flash of red and orange you had seen?

“Why’d he do that?” you asked with interest, placing your glass of water back down to avoid spraying anyone else with your shocked spitting.

Ginny was about to speak, but the doors to the Hospital Wing opened and she muttered a sly, “Ask him yourself.”

You looked over, and sure enough, Fred was walking in. Accompanied by the rest of the team, yes, but your eyes went to him and only him. Clearly, he could sense your stare, as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck once arriving at the foot of your bed.

“You caught me?” you asked, ignoring whatever it was that Angelina had just asked you.

Fred’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he shrugged, “Yeah. But it’s not a big deal.”

Angelina pursed her lips from next to you, rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet. The group all shared a look and decided to leave the two of you be, slowly slipping out of the Hospital Wing.

You noticed, yes, but were too busy saying, “Thank you.”

Fred cupped his ear and leaned forwards, a hint of a smirk on his lips as all traces of awkwardness seemed to dissipate, “Sorry, did you just thank me? Blimey, must be the end of times.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes and dropping your head back down onto the pillow, “Just accept my thanking and be on your way.”

“I actually brought you something,” he lifted his finger, reaching into the tiny pocket on his chest, pulling out a boxed chocolate frog, “Here. For you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms, “I don’t trust it. It’s coming from you.”

“I promise, I didn’t do anything to it. And the other one I gave you was fine, wasn’t it?” he smiled, walking over to the side of the bed to sit on the chair, still holding out the small box. His smile was genuine — but he still had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Fine,” you snatched it from him, “I’ll trust you just this once. Because I’m hungry..”

“I got it from Honeydukes yesterday,” he said, leaning back in the chair and lifting his legs, resting his feet atop your bed. You glared at them as you popped the chocolate into your mouth, letting the sweetness soothe you.

“See?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow, “You can trust me.”

You looked over at him, taking in his relaxed, causal state and the bright look in his eyes. You had always seen him looking as if he were hiding a dragon in his trousers — you couldn’t remember a time you’d seen him so casual.

His red striped shirt brought out the warm colours on his face. He looked effortlessly charming. It was annoying, really.

“I guess I can,” you smiled back, no hint of hostility in your voice, “Thank you.”

He took his feet off of your bed and pretended to bow, “You are infinitely welcome.” You chuckled, shaking your head and turning away from him, continuing to suck on the candy. It was changing flavours the longer it was in your mouth; it was beginning to taste like lemon.

“I can bring you some more tomorrow,” he grinned, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets, “I need to meet up with George. Do you have a candy preference?”

You blinked up at him, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”

He shrugged before nodding, “Might as well. Gotta come see my favorite grouch.”

“Oh, shove off,” you scoffed, dropping your head. For some reason, him saying he was coming to see you tomorrow sent your heart into a jolt. You tried your best to brush it off, but as you glanced back up at him, the same thing happened. You suddenly felt awfully giddy.

“What kind of candy do you like?” he asked again, giving you a more serious look, “It’s the least I could do for not knocking the Bludger fast enough.”

You placed a finger to your chin and tapped, pondering over his question, “I like chocolate. But you already know that.”

He nodded curtly, taking a dramatic bow, “Chocolate it is.” You couldn’t hold back a laugh, covering your mouth and tossing your head back. Fred chuckled too, beginning to make his way towards the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he gave you a little wave, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, you git,” you replied with a grin, laughing slightly as you watched his lips curve upwards before he stepped outside of the Hospital Wing, closing the door quietly behind him.

Your smile fell as he left, bringing up the blanket to wrap around you, suddenly very aware of how alone you were in the room. Apart from Madam Pomfrey — who was reading a rather large book on the other side of the room. The silence was unnerving and you decided to just sleep it off.

You shut your eyes and let yourself fall into a deep, deep sleep.

——

“You’re joking!” you said through a mouthful of chocolate, your eyes wide.

“Nope,” Fred grinned, “Not joking.”

“How could you do that? You traumatized poor Ron for life,” you said, finally swallowing the chocolate in your mouth so you could breathe through your laughter. 

Fred shrugged, “He deserved it.”

You shot him a look, “He was six. I hardly believe he deserved it.” Popping another bit of chocolate frog into your mouth, you raised your eyebrows as if challenging him.

He let out a low chuckle before taking a bite of his own chocolate frog. True to his word, Fred had shown up that evening with a bag of Honeyduke’s sweets, splitting them into piles between the two of you. Madam Pomfrey was not exactly overjoyed by his appearance — considering his appearance came with noise and food — but she told him he was allowed in for two hours.

You were being discharged tomorrow, anyways. There was no use moping and sulking about with only one day left here. Classes would resume and things would go back to normal.

“You have chocolate on your nose,” he pointed to his own nose as he spoke. You flushed, quickly raising your hand to try and wipe it off.

“You missed,” he smirked, sitting up and leaning forwards, reaching his hand out to touch your nose. As he made contact, you cheeks became incredibly warm. You tried your best to brush it off, but as you looked up into his warm eyes, you couldn’t help it. He was gazing down at you, fingers trailing from your nose down to your jaw before he retracted his hand.

You let out a small cough, purposefully ruining the moment, “What are you looking at?”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s just — do you have to be so painfully beautiful?”

Although you were neither eating, nor drinking, you felt yourself choking on air. You averted your eyes away from him, looking at the ground for a good moment as your head wrapped around what he just said.

“Right,” you scoffed, cheeks burning, “I think you’re the one who hit your head.”

He let out an awkward chuckle as he leaned back in his chair, “Deny the compliment all you want. Doesn’t make it any less true, y’know.”

Why was Fred making you feel like this? Obnoxious, loud, arrogant, cocky Fred Weasley. Cute, charming, funny — no.

You couldn’t think of him that way. You had practically sworn to yourself that you’d never end up liking him. You couldn’t just change your morals now. Who does that?

“Thanks,” you muttered, fidgeting with your fingers under the blanket. You didn’t know what to say, you could barely muster the word ‘thanks’ in the first place.

It was odd. Just yesterday, you had snapped at him for being childish. For making a joke. But now, only a day later, you were here. Fighting back a grin and a blush at his compliment as he smirked over, clearly pleased by your reaction as he bit into another sweet.

Considering Fred hadn’t seemed to be your biggest fan either, you wondered why he suddenly felt open enough, confident enough, to compliment you so casually. What had changed? Why were the two of you so relaxed around each other?

Too swarmed with your own confusing thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed the two hours fly by. Fred left not long after, a smile on his face as he left his pile of candies behind for you.

Candies. That’s what was to blame. The sugar. That’s why your heart was violently beating against your ribcage, why your mind was fuzzy, why you had the urge to ask Fred to stay.

The candies were to blame. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

It had to be the candies.

——

The next few days went by in a blur. You were feeling back to normal, which you were awfully thankful for. Madam Pomfrey had fixed you up in a jiffy and sent you on you way after two days in the Wing being monitored closely under her watchful eye. She wasn’t impressed with how many chocolate frogs you had managed to eat, but she was glad you were healed and ready to take on the world again.

Ginny and Megan were glad to have you back — girls night just wasn’t the same without you, they said. And you were glad to see them again too. Although it was only two nights away, you had missed their company.

However, as glad as you were to no longer be confined to your tiny single bed, you felt as if you were missing something. You knew deep down you were missing Fred’s presence —even though you tried to deny it to yourself. He had been nice company while you were being healed and you kind of wished you could get some more alone time with him.

You had seen him around, sure. He was always there during meals and you’d come across him in the common room. Each time he’d send a smile your way and if you were lucky, he’d strike up a quick conversation after asking how you were feeling.

As much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself looking for him when he wasn’t around. You found yourself looking over anytime someone entered the room, hoping it would be him. You’d scan the hallways looking for his bright red hair —

“Looking for me?” a voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Rather ironic, you thought as you looked up into Fred’s eyes, his head peeking over yours as you sat down for dinner.

“You wish,” you scoffed, fighting a blush that would give away the fact that yes, indeed, you were thinking of him. He didn’t need to know that, though. Would only boost his huge ego and no one wanted that.

“I always wish that,” he smirked as he sat down to your right. Oh, how you wished Fred was a lot less charming than he was. Damn him.

You reached across and grabbed some food, piling it onto your plate without another word. You could feel Fred’s eyes staring at you, your whole body felt like it was burning under his eyes.

“Stop staring,” you turned to face him with your eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” he raised his hands, “Hard not to.”

You wanted to retaliate, but your voice was lost under Lee and Ginny giggling across from you. When had they even come in? Were they here the whole time? And why wasn’t George with Fred?

“Young love,” Lee clasped his hands and sighed, looking over to Ginny, “When will these two realize their feelings, Ginerva?”

Ginny batted her eyelashes in an equally dramatic manner, “Oh, I don’t know, Lee. Maybe they just need a push.”

Both you and Fred were glaring daggers at them. You hoped the stare you were giving Ginny would cause her to drop the subject, but clearly, it only egged her on. She sent you a wink, laughing as un-subtly as possible.

“Oi, no one asked for the two of you to pipe in,” Fred shot a look at Lee, also hoping to silencing his friend, his cheeks tinted with pink.

You looked away from Ginny, picking at your plate, embarrassed by the obvious attempt to get you and Fred to talk. Would you two even be compatible? 

Would the two of you be a good couple?

“I think we would,” Fred grinned, nudging you in the side.

You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed, “We would what?”

“You asked if we would be a good couple,” his grin was taunting, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“Did I — Melin, did I ask that aloud?” you asked, horrified and humiliated. There was no fighting the blush on your cheeks now. Oh, how you wished you could climb into a hole and completely disappear. 

“You did,” Fred scooted closer to you, “And might I add, it was rather cute. We would make an excellent couple, Y/N. You already love telling me off.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, completely and utterly shocked that your mouth had the audacity to voice your thoughts without your permission. Why? Why did this have to happen to you?

Fred, noticing that you weren’t going to speak, decided to take initiative, “Well, since that’s all in the open, would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade next weekend? As a date.”

You looked up to him, the blush now gone as your face lost colour, completely caught off guard. Fred was blunt, yes, but you didn’t think he’d actually ask you out. You figured this weird thing going on between you two was just due both of you feeling guilty? Was this even real?

Did you ever think you’d want to go on a date with Fred Weasley? Bloody hell, no. But now, did you want to go on a date with him? Of course you did. 

“I’d love to,” you replied quietly, not even sure you had said the words.

Fred’s beaming smile alerted you that he had heard you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and brought you close to him, but you were too starstruck by the idea of going on a date with him to retaliate.

He was warm, comforting, and you really did enjoy it.

“Go team,” Ginny grinned, fist-bumping an equally pleased looking Lee.

Fred leaned over with a wide smile and whispered in your ear, “Remember when you hated me?”

You scoffed, pulling away as a smile played at your lips, “Shove off, you git.”

—

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[cityofnumbersix]

Electric Moment - Chapter 6

READ ON AO3

MOTHERPOST

DATES AND DESIGNER DRESSES

One thing that hadn't changed since the first time Katsuki had stepped off the Shinkansen and into the bustling streets of Tokyo, was his undoubtable adoration of it's constant motion. Tokyo was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. People in every direction, ever moving and constantly busy. Lights through windows that illuminated the streets well into the evening hours, far longer than he'd ever witnessed. Tokyo was alive, more so than anywhere else, and Katsuki thrived on it's energy.

His hometown had been quite the contrary. Hakone's air was near as stagnant as it's streets. The buildings were old, colourless and dull; many of them having been vacant since far before Katsuki had taken his first breath. If you asked Deku or Ochako, they would both say that Katsuki was overly dramatic. That the rotation of tourists, the towns lush parks and world-renowned onsens. The colours of the trees that lined the edges of the Lake Ashi, it's view of the iconic Mt Fuji, they were all things that they, and others, would praise.

To Katsuki, it was nothing entirely special. A life living in Hakone, was no where near as interesting as its appeared from the outside, in the eyes of passers who never dared to steer themselves further than the comfort of the areas tourist traps and fancy gardening. On the outskirts, where the colours faded and the views became far more plain, that was Katsuki's everyday life, and until the very moment he'd been able to escape, he'd resented it completely.

Tokyo was different. The streets of Tokyo's busiest districts were vibrant and overwhelming. Within the first year of his life here, he'd spent every waking hour engulfing himself in it's essence. On weekday's he would study high upon the balconies' of roof-top cafes, and on the weekends he spent his nights with his hands drifting from skin to skin, lips from mouth to mouth. Tokyo had awoken a whole other being that until that moment, had remained dormant within Katsuki's own skin, and though his life had become far less adventurous as it once had, he still felt the rush whenever he was out amongst the crowds.

It was just after nine in the morning on a Wednesday, so the train car he was currently situated within was still semi-void of people. The air was warm with the discarded breathes of the people who had been moving in and out with each and every stop along the train's path, and Katsuki tried not to feel suffocated in it's heat. He pulled his guitar case to his chest, eyes wandering along the row of seat before him, idly observing the few people that sat upon them with next to no interest, only moving when the train finally came to a stop, the announcement indicating they had arrived in Shibuya, the familiar platform coming to view as the doors slid open.

Out of all the places Katsuki had been over the past three or so years, Shibuya was by far his favourite. A city built with the intent of supporting large crowds of people, crosswalks that tumbled over each other, buildings standing tall and grand, adorned with wide LCD screens and large-scale banners. It's people poured along the roads, never touching, never straying off course. It was the epitome of everything that Katsuki had needed from a place, and he was glad that he was brought there as often as he was.

He was lost in thought as he made his way amongst the people, slipping through the glass-door of his favourite Starbuck's, a well maintained ritual that had become even more regulated since the beginning of his practice sessions with Electric Moment, who just happened to work within his favourite district, a happy coincidence that Katsuki had made sure to take full advantage of over the past few weeks.

He took a deep breath out as he pulled the medical mask from his face, a form of protective habit that he'd started after one particularly shitty cold just over twelve months ago. As much as he loved the trains, they were pretty fucking filthy, and Katsuki despised being sick almost as much as he despised the assholes who thought it was okay to bring their germs onto public transportation. He was halfway through shoving the mask into the crease of his pocket, when he felt a fist collide softly with the edge of his forearm.

"What the fu-" he began, a small hand folding itself over his lips, it's owner coming into view from around his back, standing directly in front of him, only slightly shorter than himself due to a pair of burly platform boots.

"None of that Bakuboy, this is a public place y'know?" Kyoka chimed, grinning up at Bakugou with an impish smirk. She held within the grasp of her other hand, a tray containing two take-away drinks, tipping slightly from the weight as it pushed against her thin wrist.

"What are you doing?" He grumbled as Kyoka lowered her palm, quieter, his eyes cautionary, "Don't sneak up on me like that you short-ass little twerp."

"Rude." Kyoka spoke in reply, before waving the tray of drinks that now sat within both her hands, "And after I bought you a drink and everything."

Bakugou furrowed his brow in confusion, trying his best to remain appropriately behaved, his surroundings eminent. He was choosing his words carefully.

"What the hell are you even talking about?" He quarried, eyes drifting to the tray of drinks once more, "How did you even..."

"Well you see, my actual secret pass time is to buy two drinks, then sit around until I see a cute boy that I might be interested in, then I offer him one. It's full proof, promise. " Kyoka explained, tilting her head to the side slightly as she spoke, shooting Bakugou a playful grin.

"Aren't you fucking queer?" Katsuki spoke again, watching the girl before him with a dumbfounded expression.

"Mm, and so are you, so I guess this date is going pretty terrible isn't it?" Kyoka explained again, "But truthfully, you're pretty transparent. This is the closest Starbuck's to both the station and the studio, and you've walked in every practice since our first with a drink in your hand."

"So what? You just decided to take a stab in the dark that this was the Starbuck's I go to...and?" Katsuki huffed, not looking away from Kyoka's eyes. What was this chick playing at? Why the hell would she come here just to see him. To mess with him? To make sure he wasn't spiking his coffee with some weird form of musical steroids? Because that didn't exist, and the mere fact that she would believe such bullshit was irritating enough to give Katsuki a migraine.

"Walk with me." Kyoka insisted, taking one of the cups and shoving it into Katsuki's free hand, before heading towards the door.

Katsuki hesitated for only a moment, his grip tightening around the paper vessel, before he turned on his feel to sheepishly follow in Kyoka's path.

"What's even in here?" He mumbled, tilting the cup towards her as they walked, nose pent up in interest.

"Hot chocolate."

"Fucking gross. What am I, nine? Who the fuck goes to a coffee place and doesn't buy actual coffee?" Katsuki hissed, pushing the offending beverage towards his female companion. Kyoka clicked her tongue.

"Last thing your aggressive ass needs is caffeine." She uttered, pushing her own drink against his, sliding his own closer towards Katsuki's mouth, "Now drink."

"We're walking you fucking mite." Katsuki reprimanded, pulling the drink away from his face, "Were you raised in a fucking cave?"

Kyoka rolled her eyes, chuckling in repose to Katsuki's comment. She reached to dig her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him, stumbling, to the side of the path, leaning against a blank space of wall aside a vending machine. She took a sip of her drink, eying him over the lid as she did. Their close quarters had Katsuki stepping back so that his body was no longer touching hers, but he moved no further.

"What's this all about?" He questioned, taking a sip of his own drink. He huffed slightly from his nose as he swallowed. Too sweet. Katsuki hated sweet.

"Well..." she began, peering off the side side for a moment, before making eye contact once more, "I want to get to know you..."

Katsuki continued to gaze at her, watching the way Kyoka's bob-cut shifted as she moved her face, the crinkles by the sides of her heavily lined eyes as she grinned at him stupidly from he place against the wall. He couldn't sense any dishonesty, but he Could also tell that Kyoka was probably only telling a half truth, something which irritated him thoroughly.

"Why the sudden fucking interest?" He grumbled, eyes drilling into Kyoka's own. She huffed in annoyance.

"You really can't just let someone be nice, huh?" She drawled, taking a large swig of her own hot chocolate, throwing the empty cup into the rubbish slot of the vending machine to her right, "Okay, so I might have a reason I want to get to know you, but it's nothing unusually interesting if I'm honest with you."

Katsuki knew that he was prying. Really, most people would probably just take the opportunity to become close with a member of their new band, without really looking too far into it. Yet, Katsuki also knew himself. He knew that he was hard to get along with. That he came off brash and intimidating. He wasn't the sort of person that you stalked to their favourite coffee shop and declared your desire to befriend them to. It would be nice to live in a fantasy world where he thought someone as strong-willed as Kyoka Jirou, a girl who had on many occasions shot back everything he'd given her, would simply just want to understand him better, but Katsuki was smarter than that.

Kyoka leant back, rubbing her bare shoulders into the rough surface of the wall behind her, reaching her hand inside the pocket of the jacket she hard tied around her waist to retrieve a small packet of cigarettes. She let one hang between her middle and index finger, her arm falling to the side of her body as she clearly took her time thinking of what she was about to say.

"Y'know our old guitarist, N?" She began slowly, eyeing him with curiosity written upon her features, "Has anyone told you why he left?"

"No." Katsuki replied instantly. No one had hardly mentioned Electric Moment's previous guitarist. Katsuki just assumed that they were all annoyed that the dude had ditched.

"Well, it was because I punched him in the face..." she mumbled, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, "You see...N was a huge fucking asshole. Plus he was on drugs, so that made it even worse. I held it in for as long as I could, because I knew he was a vital member, and I didn't want to let everyone down by losing it...Then one day I guess I couldn't take it anymore. I swung my fist and hit him right in the nose. It was pretty brutal, there was blood everywhere. I told him to never show his face near us again, and...no one intervened. No one tried to stop me, or him, and I guess he had finally gotten the message, and he was gone..."

Katsuki let his head fall to the side to lay against the edge of the vending machine, his much taller body, encasing Kyoka in her spot against the wall. An act that to passers-by may have appeared intimidating, but to Katsuki it was far more casual that he generally was with others. He couldn't help but be inwardly impressed as Kyoka resounded her tale of unforetold violence. If the guy really was as bad as she's saying he was, then eventually Katsuki may have even done the same thing.

"What does this have to do with me exactly?" Katsuki coaxed, feeling just the slightest offended in regards to the concept that this story related to their current situation in any kind of way.

"It's...less about N himself, and more about me..." she mumbled quietly, refusing to raise her head, something that was unusual when it came to her interactions with Katsuki, "Everything that happened with N...I let it happen. I barely knew anything about the guy, even after Mina suggested him to us. He wasn't like the others. We met him when we got here. The guys, we grew up together, they're my family. We spent all of high school attached at the hip, and then we all moved here with this dream to make it big y'know? N was an outsider. I didn't want to let him in, not the way the other's were. So...I just let him be the guitarist. Let him interact with the other's while keeping my distance."

Katsuki made no motion to move, nor say anything, but in a way he understood. It had taken him a long time to allow Mina to become even slightly close to him. Up until that point, Deku and Ochako had been his only friends. He could understand how difficult it is to break the small town mentality that comes with living in the country or on the coast. People there were close. People in Tokyo seemed far less so. The idea of letting anything one into the circle that encased your heart was terrifying. He didn't speak though, only left her to go on.

"I feel like, that if I had gotten to know N. If I had just taken the time to know him as a person and not just as our guitarist, maybe I could have prevented so much of what happened. Maybe if I had just been less closed-off, I would have realised straight away what a toxic and filthy person he was..." Kyoka continued, her hand coming up to rest upon her face, shielding it from Katsuki's view, cigarette still hanging idly from her fingers, "I failed...in protecting what means the most to me, because I couldn't overcome my own personality issues...and I don't want to do that again..."

Katsuki nodded his head slowly, mind running over the words as he attempted to piece together everything that was being said. Kyoka moved her hand, looking back up at him once more.

"I want to be your friend Bakugou." She stated, blinking up at the wide-eyed blond boy, "I want you to be friend's with all of us. I want you to be apart of us, just like how we're apart of each other. I know the guys feel the same way, especially Eiji..."

Katsuki's cheeks warmed at the mention of the other boy's name, causing him to withdraw partially from his place before Kyoka. This was something that the girl clearly hadn't failed to notice, as she smirked up at him, her hand coming to rest upon his chest.

"But with great power comes great responsibility." She spoke, pushing his body backwards so that they were once again standing on the sidewalk, "Hurt any of them and you'll come out way worse than N ever did."

Katsuki scoffed, beginning to make his way down the sidewalk towards the studio once more, watching Kyoka follow from the corner of his eye. He didn't doubt that the girl was probably far stronger than she looked. Plus, he hardly ever saw her not drapped in a variety of metal and leather, products that would undoubtably cause pain if they were to come into contact with his skin. However, her warning was unwarranted. Katsuki had no interested in causing unnecessary drama amongst any of them. It was too much of a hassle, gaining too little of a reward for it to be worth it.

"Also, this probably doesn't need to be said, because he's a big boy and I bet he can pummel assholes into the ground with those biceps of his, but that threat goes double time for Kirishima. You hurt him and I'll end you, got it?" Her words were blood soaked and cold, but her warm expression never wavered, a petite hand reaching up to take hold of Katsuki's arm, allowing him to lead her along. Katsuki clicked his tongue, moving his jaw little enough that he was able to somewhat hide his periwinkle stained cheeks.

"And what makes you think that spikey haired fucking loser needs extra protection, huh?" He grumbled, pulling Kyoka along, her smaller legs causing her steps to fall just short of Katsuki's own.

"Mm...because Eijirou is a very persistent little boy and he doesn't back down from a challenge easily." She explained, letting her grip on his arm drop as she spun around to skip backwards before him, grinning at the blond with milk-white teeth, "And like I said before, you're transparent."

"What the fuck does that mean?!" Katsuki growled, moving faster on his feet as Kyoka spun herself around, sprinting towards the main entrance of the studio.

She busted through it before he was able to catch up, slipping her small frame through the closing gap of the buildings only elevator as it forced it's way shut. Katsuki let out an exasperated growl, eyes digging into Kyoka's skull as she waved cheekily through the gap, the elevator closing tight before him.

He should have never agreed to this so called, "friendship."

-

The last thing Kyoka expected to be greeted by when she pushed open the door of the band's designated practice room, was a mess of bare limbs and the clearly oxygen deprived face of Hanta before her. It took her some time to realise what she was looking at, and once she did, she felt far more confused than she even had in the beginning.

"What in the hell..." she mumbled to herself, eyes wide as she watched none other than Eijirou and Denki in some kind of obscure wrestling match upon the floor. They were pushing at each others limbs, pulling at their clothes as they tussled around the floor space, narrowly missing multiple series' of cords and a discarded mic stand that sat bellow the performance platform that contained their very expensive instruments.

They seemed to take no notice of her presence, only pulling themselves to a stop when the somewhat aggressive sound of Bakugou's voice vibrated throughout the room from behind her. She spun on her feet, taking in a clearly exhausted Bakugou as he stared past her into the room -he must have taken the stairs.

When she turned to the room again, the two boys who had previously been all over each other, were sitting side-by-side upon the floor, their chests heaving with the result of using excessive energy. It was then that Kyoka noticed that Denki was completely naked, bar his underwear, his clothes scattered across the room in a messed display. The skin along his abdomen and chest was as flushed as his face, his hair fuzzy and high upon his scalp.

Eijirou was in a better state, though his outfit, as it always was sometimes, was questionable. His chest was draped in a loose fitting tank-top -its origin quite obviously had been a band t-shirt that the boy had cut to pieces. It fell just shy of his navel, the fabric torn short in a cropped fashion, displaying the large silver piecing that sat attached to his navel. His thighs were near bare, as he wore but a pair of cut-off black denim shorts with various holes through the front. His calves and knees were covered with a crimson pair of knee high socks, which sat beneath his favourite pair of boots. Normally, Kyoka had learnt to look past Eijirou's occasional eccentric outfits, but as she let her fingers graze the fabric of her warm jacket around her waist, she couldn't help but feel concerned for her friends clear neglect in regards to his own health.

"Denk's..." she spoke softly, eyes flowing over the scene before her, "Why the fuck are you naked? And why is Eiji dressed like a baby prostitute?"

Hanta, whom had been pretty well contained since the sound of Bakugou's yell had shaken them all to silence, once again burst into a fit of laughter. His body fell forward, his hands and knees scraping the ground as he filled the room with the harmonious sound of uncontrollable heaving and cries. Denki joined in, his eyes pulling shut as he laughed along, reaching to take his shirt from beside himself, slipping it over his head.

"I was making a point about how my outfit doesn't make me any less manly." Eijirou declared, glaring directly at Kyoka as he pushed himself to his feet, "As you can see, I was kicking his ass, and I do not look like a baby prostitute."

Hanta snorted, hardly able to contain himself as he struggled to pull air into his lungs, "B-Baby p-pros-".

"Shut it Hanta!" Eijirou growled, turning towards the raven-haired boy, fists raised as he prepared to once again prove his undeniable manliness.

"I see six months hasn't helped you all in the maturity department." A voice chimed in from behind both Kyoka and Bakugou, it's owner pushing past them with ease into the room as it once again slowly fell silent.

Kyoka's eyes followed them, taking no time to process who was the it was. His voice and mannerism's were undeniable.

"Azaiwa." She greeted, her hand reaching up to pull Bakugou into the room after her, "I was starting to think you'd given up on us."

Aizawa simply groaned in response, falling backwards into the single armchair that sat in the corner of the room. The one that he had chosen to have placed their only a few days into becoming the Electric Moment's offical handler. A job that he says had prematurely aged him by well over twenty years. Kyoka just thinks he's dramatic.

"And I see Kirishima has at least spent this time wisely. Congratulations on your job at whatever shitty love hotel you occupy." The older man spoke, pushing his dark sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose, shielding his eyes from the rooms multiple lights. His hair was as long and unruly as it always was, the dark stumble of his beard clearly the work of a few days of lazy morning preparations. To most people he would probably appear harmless, lazy and good-for-nothing to the point it was almost shameful to believe he was capable of handling such a rowdy group of young adults. Those people were wrong.

"Will everyone stop slut-shaming me!" Eijirou cried, sections of hair falling from their place in the elastic above his head as he moved boldly with his words.

"I see you're all getting along nicely." Entered the voice of none other than Midnight as she made her way into the room. She waltz past Kyoka, towering over the bantam girl in a pair of monstrous heals that probably started where Kyoka's entire body ended. For a moment she felt a rush of insecurity. The same kind that often followed seeing a superficially attractive older woman on the train, or when she sat on the couch as Denki and Hanta flicked through Adult Magazines and tried to get her to join them, only for Kyoka to stare down at certain models with less attraction than jealousy.

"I only hope that you all chose to spend your time wisely." She spoke again, striding across the room to take a seat upon the arm of Aizawa's chair, ignoring the irritated sound that the man made in response, "Now get your asses up there and show me what you've got."

The group didn't waste any time as they all made their way onto the platform. Denki pulled his pants on as he went, bouncing from foot-to-foot as he adjusted them into place, plopping himself down into his stool with ease. Eijirou was in the middle of untangling his bass cord when he was bombarded by a large amount of heavy denim hitting his face, resting itself upon his shoulder. He dropped his cord, reaching to pull the offending object from his person.

"Wear that." Bakugou grumbled, making his way over to his guitar, "That shit in your belly button is giving me a headache."

"I'm sure that's where the ache is Bakuboy." Kyoka teased, grinning over at the blond, ducking her head she he through a microphone in her direction, catching it within her grip as she stumbled back.

"Shut up you eggplant haired bitch!" He gruffed, causing Kyoka to giggle, balancing herself even on her feet, before turning to push the mic through the grip of her stand.

"Let's do Overdrive." Kyoka announced to the others, not bothering to turn and face them, her mind already sinking deep into the section of her body dedicated only to the music. It was a popular song, one she'd written with Denki after a night of hard drinking. It was a controversial one, but maybe that's why Midnight had loved it as much as she did. Luckily, so did their fans.

"You know it?" Hanta quarried, tilting his head as he looked over at Bakugou, who stood tall upon the stage, his guitar already positioned appropriately.

"I know them all." He grunted simply, drawing Kyoka's attention to him for just long enough that she could laugh at his confidence under her breathe.

"Ready?" She openly asked, letting her eyes drift shut.

"Ready." Hanta chimed.

"Got it." Denki added.

"Always!" Eijirou cheered, the sleeves of Bakugou's denim jacket pulled up over his elbows.

"Yeah, whatever." Bakugou finalised.

Then she heard it, the beginning cords of not just any song, but one of their songs. A song that they'd played upon stages, in a studio as it was recorded for their debut album. A song that she'd written with her childhood best friend with their minds clouded and their body's pressed close under a shared blanket. A song that they had written for this band, their band, consisting of their closet friends and the people they loved. Her mind flew away and in that moment, all she could hear was the music.

The words began to flow from her lips and through the mic, the sound bubbling up high from the base of her abdomen, the music flowing up along her spine. Her eyes were still pressed closed, her fingers wrapped tightly around her mic stand. She could hear it, Bakugou's sound. She could pick it out amongst the others, Hanta's following somewhat similar. It was a different sound, not one she was quite familiar with. Bakugou was taking the lead, and the other's were falling into his rhythm. It was odd, to adjust, but she liked it. Liked the way Bakugou's unique sound fit so perfectly in place with their own. Like the puzzle piece that had been missing all along.

"Stop." Midnight's voice butted into the sound, causing Kyoka's eyes to immediately slip open, voice falling quiet.

"What...is it...?" Hanta spoke from behind her, but when she looked up, Kyoka noticed that Midnight's eyes were directed only at her.

"It's wrong." Midnight spoke again, "It's changed."

"Fucking obviously." Bakugou defended, an aggravated noise falling from his lips as he clicked his tongue.

"Bakugou's only just started, you can't expect us to have it down just yet." Denki added, the sound of his sticks' hitting the batter head of his snare with a crash that pulled Kyoka from her music induced spell.

"You haven't exactly given us much time." She added, gripping her microphone tightly, glaring right back at Midnight, who's eyes still hadn't moved from their place on Kyoka's own form.

"I'm not talking about him." Midnight explained, pushing herself to a standing position, "I'm talking about you."

Kyoka could feel a heavy weight fall from somewhere in her chest to the pit of her belly, the suddenness of it making her feel nauseous. She pulled in a shallow breath, eyes following Midnight as she made her way across the room, standing before Kyoka at the base of the platform. Here, she almost stood as tall as Kyoka, even from bellow, which only made Kyoka feel all the worse.

"Me?" She mumbled, scrunching her nose up in a distasteful sign of defensive force, "I'm just singing the same way I always have."

This had Midnight stepping back, eyes rolling as she finally pulled her gaze away from Kyoka. She crossed her arms over her chest, vision now wandering over the expanse of make-shift stage, eyeing each of the other members of the band individually. Kyoka could feel her heart thumping roughly against her chest. The silence had her agitated. She despised when people ignored her, and she hated it even more when it was Midnight, who for some odd reason had a habit of filling conversations with silence and uninterruptible gazes.

"D, H." Midnight spoke sternly, eyes drifting between Denki and Hanta as she referred to them by their stage names, a choice she described as being both professional and self-gratifying. The boys both looked up hesitantly to meet her gaze.

"When you were listening to K sing just then, how did you feel?"

It was an odd question, not something she'd ever really asked before. Most of the time she left it up to her own judgement how she felt about the music, and each members own performance. She had indicated from the beginning that she neither cared, nor respected the opinions of others. This was something that other's that worked for the same label disliked. Their job was to sell music to people from all walks of life, not to simply satisfy Midnight's own taste. For some reason though, it seemed to work. After years of leading different performers, every single one of the people that Midnight had worked with were sure to make it big. This is what had Kyoka and the other's trusting in her judgement, taking in every word that left her mouth. So why was she doing this now?

"Uh..." Denki let out, turning to eye Hanta, who stood to his left, his own jaw slack, guitar resting by his side.

"It was beautiful, like it always is." Hanta spoke, turning to Midnight as he did, still clearly unaware of why he was being questioned in the first place.

"Yeah. Kyoka's voice is the same as normal. She sounds great." Denki added, swinging himself upon his stood in a comforting motion, probably to calm his nerves. He'd never been the best when directly speaking to Midnight, even when his confidence was at it's peak.

"Could it make you cum?" Midnight questioned again, taking them all completely from left field.

Kyoka's eyes grew wide, hands moving to her cheeks to attempt to cool the warming of her skin. She could hear the sound of Eijirou spitting whatever liquid that had been in his mouth, upon the floor, coughing up the excess from his throat. She wasn't surprised, Eijirou was never really bothered by anyone, Midnight included. He was generally able to act casual in her presence, even when those around her were frozen with fear.

"What the fuck Kayama?!" Kyoka shrieked, the use of her family name causing Midnight to once again turn her attention towards the young singer.

"It's a song about sex isn't it?" Midnight asked, stepping so that the tips of her shoes hit the edge of the platform. Kyoka took a step back.

"Well...yeah..." Kyoka replied, eyes turning to stare off to the side in embarrassment.

"And I use to believe it too." Midnight muttered lowly, "Before, when you performed that song, I could feel it. I could feel the people in the crowd growing desperately hard, could hear their rapid heartbeats against their fucking rib cage like it could escape at any second. You sang with passion so fucking heated and raw that you had every straight girl in the crowd dripping with want."

Kyoka couldn't believe what she was hearing, her grip on the mic stand growing far too strong for it's own good. She was visibly uncomfortable. It wasn't like she was a prude or anything. Kyoka had been apart of her fair share of 1 A.M. club hookups and post concert fan-fucks, but hearing stuff like this, out loud, from someone she was hardly comfortable with, it was unbearably embarrassing.

The feeling of a warm body beside her, pulled her from the jaded state her mind had defensively fallen into in an attempt to block out Midnight's words. She felt the microphone stand beginning ripped from her grip, triggering her body back into action. She turned herself in the direction of the assailant, who happened to be none other than Bakugou.

"I'll fucking show you how it's done short-ass." Bakugou growled, shoving Kyoka to the side with his hip. She only stared at him, watching the guitarist position himself, his eyes locked onto Midnight, glare bleeding a message that Kyoka couldn't quite interpret, "Play."

Each of the remaining three boys eyed each other for a moment, before moving themselves back into their playing positions. Kyoka knew that she should take a step back, but her body was frozen in place where she stood. Was Bakugou really going to sing? Did he even known how? She noticed said boy eye her from the corner of his own, before he let his lids flutter shut, just as Kyoka did when she was about to let go.

After a brief pause, the tell-tale beginning cords of Overdrive began again, but this time, it was Bakugou who stood before the mic. His bare arms stretched long and muscular as he gripped the microphone far rougher than Kyoka ever did. It was this raw aggression that she had observed in everything that Bakugou did, and even now, his posture burned with an intensity that had Kyoka scared that he may set everything around him ablaze. When Kyoka sang, the passion flowed through her throat, regurgitated along with the lyrics. When Bakugou sang, the passion seeped out from his pores, lighting the room on fire in a whole different way.

Generally, when Kyoka watched other people sing, her eyes were automatically drawn to their face. The way their features shifted with the lyrics, their lips as they moved as the words poured out from somewhere within them far too personal for her to be able to pinpoint from the outside. Yet, standing here upon the platform, watching Bakugou sing a song that she had written with such passion, her eyes wouldn't sit still. They wandered along the length of his jean-clad legs, the denim hanging loosely against his flesh, an odd sight considering the other boys around her often wore pants so tight she feared for their safety.

As her eyes continued to move, they fell to the blonds slim fingers, the way they moved gradually along the expanse of the mic stand, the tips of them gliding over the length of the microphone itself. It was exceptionally erotic, in ways that even Kyoka, in all her gay glory, could understand. There was something about his essence, something that Kyoka realised that she now lacked. She couldn't figure out exactly why, but that was hardly on her mind in the moment as she listened to their guitarist's voice project across the room.

"Rolling on the bed with these broken hearts, insides twisting up don't let is start..." Bakugou sang lowly, his voice rough around the edges in a way that Kyoka could only expect from him.

"I want you to fuck me hard, do it right. No attachments baby, just for tonight." Bakugou's hips rolled in time with the music, making sure to apply a raw emphasis on the swear.

"My body's dozin', better wake it up. Hands on skin, cmon lets fuck." This time, when the word rolled off his tongue, his eyes flew open, gazing off to the back of the room. There was no one there, no crowd to sing to, nor any particular person in which he bared his eyes, but as Bakugou's knees dropped just enough that Kyoka could practically feel the way his legs gave out, she fleetingly wondered who it was he was picturing at the other end of the room.

"Let us speak our true intentions, mouth to mouth, no hesitating now..." The words left Kyoka's mouth in a hushed tone, more of a breath than an actual attempt at singing.

This caught Bakugou's attention, who turned his head towards her, body still hunched over, his grip upon the microphone being the only thing keeping him upright. They watched each other for a short time, observing the other for reasons neither of them understood. Until their silence was finally broken.

"Holy shit..." It was Eijirou, his eyes wide and bass guitar swinging from its strap to his side.

When she looked around, Kyoka noticed that everyone in the room was wearing nearly the same expression. If she had a mirror, she assumed that maybe, just maybe, she might even look that's way as well.

"You got it midget?" Bakugou shot casually, pulling himself straight, backing away from the mic stand in favour of once again taking ahold of his guitar.

"Uh...yeah..." Kyoka replied, dumbfounded by Bakugou's blatant lack of awareness. Did he know of the effect what he had just done was having to everyone within there current four-wall space? Or was this another one of those weird Bakugou things that Kyoka had not yet had the time to figure out?

Kyoka shifted her eyes to Midnight, who was yet to move, nor utter a single word. She stood in the middle of the room, her arms still shrugged over her breast, facial expression stagnant.

"That's what you need." Midnight spoke suddenly, not bothering to look up at any of them, before swiftly turning on the heals of her boots, "Find it again, or get B to find it for you, I don't care, but have it before Saturday, or Electric Moment's hiatus will become a permanent disband."

There silence continued as they waited for Midnight to make her exit, shortly followed by Aizawa who looked back at them, facial expression unreadable, before he closed the door behind the both of them, once again leaving the youngsters to their own devises.

"I'm sorry guys...I guess I'm just a little rusty." Kyoka mumbled, letting a gentle laugh escape as her hand came up to the back of her head, rubbing her hair nervously, "I'll fix it by Saturday for the concert, swear."

"We know you will Kyo, don't worry, she's just being a picky bitch like usual." Hanta claimed in a comforting tone, calming the rapid beating of Kyoka's heart just enough that she no longer felt that she may be suffocating in her own insecurities. Hanta was good with words, even if most of the things that came from mouth on the daily were idiotic, but she was still slightly embarrassed. She'd been outdone by Katsuki Bakugou, a boy who didn't seem to have a sensual or romantic bone in his body. It was almost laughable.

"Are we all just gonna stand here and ignore the fact that Bakugou can fucking sing?!" Denki shot, pointing his drum sticks around accusingly at each of them. This caused Kyoka to laugh, rolling her eyes and once again looking over at Bakugou, who stood silently off to the side, fingers messing with the strings of his guitar.

"Denki's right bro, that was fucking crazy, why didn't you ever mention it before?" Eijirou's expression was bright as he moved to stand by Bakugou, pressing his fist against the other boys arm affectionately.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, pushing the flat of his palm against Eijirou's face, forcing him backwards and out of his immediate vicinity.

"It's fucking whatever. Anyone can do it if they fucking try, idiot." He snapped, but Kyoka didn't miss the dust of pink that Bakugou was trying to hide with a tip of his chin towards the roof.

The insult didn't seem to affect Eijirou, who laughed playfully in response. That was until he took hold of Bakugou's wrist, hooking a boot-clad foot around Bakugou's own legs, pushing the blond onto his back upon the ground with ease. Kyoka watched on as Eijirou perched himself upon Bakugou's abdomen, grinning down at the seemly shocked guitarist.

"Accept the compliment dude. Mama always taught me it was rude to be modest." Eijirou hummed, pressing his own palm against Katsuki's aggravated expression, before pushing himself back to his feet, taking his bass as Denki handed it to him.

"I wasn't being fucking modest shitty hair! And what sort of manners are they teaching you out in the fucking mountains! Are all your mother's bears?!" Bakugou hissed, flailing his arms and legs angrily from his place on the ground.

"Nope. Ones a writer and the other is a nurse." Eijirou chimed, holding his bagged bass close to his body as he leaped from the platform, shortly followed by Denki and Sero as they made their way towards the door.

"Mine runs a plant nursery." Hanta added.

"My mummy is a homemaker~" Denki mused, pivoting on his feet to look back and shoot Bakugou a teasing smile.

"I'm going to fucking murder you, you shitty-haired little!" Bakugou roared, pushing himself to his feet.

"Run Eiji!" Denki squealed, pushing the other two boys out the door with force. The three of them could be seen scrambling down the staircase as the door gradually fell shut. Kyoka couldn't help but laugh.

"My mum is a homemaker too." Kyoka added, stepping towards Bakugou, standing by his side as he glared towards the door, "She mostly cooks and takes care of my sister though. We share the cleaning."

Bakugou clicked his tongue audibly, turning to look down at Kyoka with falling anger. She assumed his outburst might have had something less to do with the embarrassment of being overpowered by Eijirou, and more to do with their brief dash of close proximity.

"Two mums..." Bakugou mumbled, trying his best to sound like his interest was less than minimal.

"Mhm." Kyoka hummed in agreement, her own eyes drifting to the door, "A little gay raised by gays."

"I didn't think..." Bakugou started, before his words trailed off into silence.

"It's not really." Kyoka answered the unspoken question, smiling fondly, "Eijirou says he had a dad when he was a younger, but apparently he was a jackass, go figure. His mum moved with him to the country for an escape, met his other mum, and the rest it history. I think it's pretty common knowledge around the people that matter. There's rumours of course, but for the most part people just think they're roommates and one of them just happens to be a divorcee with a kid."

"Femme fatale." Bakugou muttered from beside her, dragging Kyoka's attention back to his face.

"What?" She questioned, scrunching her nose up in a confused manner.

"It means fatal woman." Bakugou explained, turning to blink down at Kyoka, "That's what you need. A muse. A reason to sing."

That's all he said before making his way off the platform, once again cradling the handle of his guitar bag within his fingers. Kyoka watched silently as Bakugou made his exit, pulling the door closed behind him, not allowing to let it slam. A subtle gesture that warmed Kyoka's chest. Maybe Bakugou wasn't quite as bad as she'd first imagined. Maybe, being close to him wouldn't be too terrible either.

She let her mind dwell for some time on what Bakugou had just told her. She made no move to leave like the others, only standing on the edge of the platform, mind reeling over all the things that could have changed the way she sang.

A muse, huh?

-

Momo had always disliked the lighting they chose to use within high-end clothing stores. They always seemed to emit a blinding white glow, and there was never just one, but a dozen of them scattered across various areas on both the roof and walls. They made her head feel airy, pulling her brain away from reality so that she felt more like she was floating in space than trying on outfits.

The lighting within bridal stores was the worst of all. Everything in her line of sight were various shades of white and pale creme, and the lights that bounced off each surface become all the more unbearable. It made her feel like she was floating amongst the clouds, the blistering sun only a few feet away, baking her in it's light. It was overheating, intolerable. She sometimes wished she would fall through their surface, and never stop falling.

"I like that one." A voice commented from before her, causing Momo to pull her gaze from the floor, looking over at her closest female friend, Itsuka Kendo, whom sat across the room amongst a mess of delicate throw pillows and expensive linens.

Itsuka's fiery orange locks were folded neatly over her shoulder, a tiny braid tangling through it's waves. She was clothed much more casually than they would be in the public eye, shrugged into an oversized shirt and patterned leggings, bare feet tucked amongst the couch cushions provided by the store.

Shouto sat not far to her side, arms crossed over his chest, eyes partially focused in a mild interest. The ambience of the room only proved to make him appear all the more beautiful, which had Momo smiling for the first time since they'd begun this session. He looked back at her, sharing a shy smile, before looking away, causing Momo to laugh out, rolling her eyes.

The dress she was currently trying on was fitted at her waist, sleeveless and decorated with a variety of miniature crystal pieces along the breast. The skirt spread wide and considerably broad, making it difficult for Momo to move too far without fearing she may step off the platform. Running her fingers along it, she could feel the the price of the tulle simply from touch and for a moment she wondered if she'd ever be able to feel this beautiful again, but instead with the unknown buzz of unconditional love running amongst her chest, instead of standing before her future husband, who just happened to be someone she'd rather be a bridesmaid to than the actual bride.

"I like it too..." she expressed, turning her gaze back to Itsuka, twirling once upon her feet to show off the dresses dipped back and finer details.

"Isn't it kind of weird for the groom to be here when you try on your dresses?" Itsuka teased, pushing herself to her feet to make her way over to Momo, running her own finger's along the dress's immense shirt.

"It's because I have better fashion sense than the two of you." Shouto muttered, raising his eyebrow towards his friends.

Both the girls began to laugh, not bothering to correct him where they knew he was probably right. This side of Shouto Todoroki, the one that was more than silence and brooding gazes, was a special side of the boy that only they were allowed to see. Just like how to the outside Momo and Itsuka were probably seen as the dignified and well rounded daughters of their respectable families, Shouto was seen as the handsome son of the Todoroki family. A boy of little words, but who gained more than enough attention.

Sometimes when Momo thought about it, it was almost hilarious. The way people clung to some odd speculation about a person simply from what they could observe from the outside. The internet and magazines wrote Shouto as this dark and mysterious man, who spoke only when spoken too, and never really gave definitive answers. In reality she knew that Shouto was simply shy. That strangers made him nervous, and that his ability to form sentences generally flew right out the door the moment he felt any sort of pressure, but she would never tell anyone that.

"So then what's your opinion Mr. Fashion Expert?" Itsuka chimed, turning to him, laying her head upon the fabric of the shirt where Momo's thigh would be, head sinking amongst the fabric. Momo ran her fingers through the girl's hair, smiling down at her fondly, before turning her gaze back to Shouto.

"Well, I think you look pretty in anything Mo, but this one sure suits you the best." He explained, leaning forward in his seat to chest his chin within his hands, elbows on his knees.

"Why thank you my lovely, and doting fiancé." Momo gushed playfully, slipping her feet from the platform, allowing Itsuka to begin unzipping the dress from the back, "You talk to your boyfriend like that?"

Shouto's face began to warm, Momo could almost feel it within the metre range between the pair. Shouto had never been very good with boys, nor talking about his personal life, even with his friends. His shy demeanour extended even as far as that, which often meant that Itsuka and Momo had to push any information they wanted from him with force. They generally always got their way though.

"Wait..." Itsuka screeched, pulling herself from her place hidden in Momo's sea of tulle, "Boyfriend?! Why was I not informed of this romantic revelation?"

"That's because Midoriya isn't my boyfriend." Shouto defended, refusing to look their way, "He's just a boy...that I'm talking to..."

"Shou, you gave him your line details. You never give those to anyone." Momo reminded him, slipping easily from the dress, stretching her long legs over the base off the shirt, pushing it to the side, "You've been messaging him nonstop."

"Okay now I'm really offended!" Itsuka gasped, holding her hands against the centre of her chest, "Shouto Todoroki gave a boy his Line details? This is huge!"

"It's really not..." Shouto mumbled, taking ahold of one of the throw-pillows, pressing it close to his chin, ducking his face gently into its soft embrace.

"Wait...was this the night you snuck off in Roppongi and then refused to tell me where you'd been the entire night?!" Itsuka squeaked, glaring at Shouto, the accusation making the boy squirm against his pillow.

"I...I spilled my drink on him..." Shouto explained quietly, looking up at his friends from beneath hooded lids, "But he apologised to me, for getting in my way...and he was just so damn cute...and I don't know, it just kind of happened..."

Momo grinned softly down at Shouto, pulling her shirt over her head, before kneeling down before him, her bare thighs pressing together as she took Shouto's hands within her own. Her eyes wandered over his expression, the way his eyes wrinkled around the edges as he attempted to look as far from at her face as he could manage. She reached to run the tips of her fingers along the scar that decorated the outline of his eye, the remnants of a memory they both chose to push to the back of their minds. This was her best friend. The same shy and unpredictable Shouto that she'd played with under conference tables and amongst the halls of tall buildings. The same person she'd grown up wishing she could be, mimicking his faux confidence and pride. This was her Shouto, and he deserved nothing but the world.

"We're proud of you Shou, this is a big step for you." She whispered, briefly turning to Itsuka who nodded her agreement silently, "Anyone that you find so remarkable, must be someone really special."

"He's great." Shouto muttered, a timid smile making its way amongst his facial features, "He...moved here from the coast with his friends he calls Kacchan and Ochako...he's studying forensics in school and he reads a lot of translated western comics books..."

"He sounds like a big nerd, at least you too have that in common." Itsuka spoke, scrunching her eyes up gleefully.

"He...invited me to a concert on Saturday. He said his friend Kacchan just jointed as their guitarist and wants me to come along with him and his friends..." Shouto explained, moving to lean his back against the back of the couch, "He said that you guys can come with me...and if you don't mind...I really want you to."

Momo nodded her head slowly as she listened to Shouto speak, the sudden invitation to do something outside their norm, sending a shiver up her spine. Unlike Itsuka, who's parents were rather lenient and and trusted her wholeheartedly, or Shouto who just completely disregarded his fathers rules completely, she had always been kept on a pretty tight leash. Even now, as an adult who knew she had much more freedom that she previously held, she never strayed too far off the course that she'd been set from birth. She always turned down her friends invitations to go out at night, but this time, she could sense Shouto's need for a comforting presence.

"Okay...we'll be there. It sounds fun."

-

Bakugou wasn't sure what had triggered his sudden urge to give Kyoka any sort of advice about her singing, nor could he quite figure out what had possessed him to intervene when Midnight was clearly making Kyoka uncomfortable with her unneeded speech about singing like she was trying to seduce the audience, but what he did know is that he totally regretted his choice to sing in front of that room of people. It's not like singing was something he hated, but it wasn't necessarily something he enjoyed enough to have others hassling him about it.

He let a deep rush of air escape through his lips, one he'd been holding in his chest since the elevator had past around the third floor on its decent to the ground. He exited the elevator swiftly the moment the doors slipped open, moving with the intention of catching the next train back to his apartment before he was able to perform anymore out-of-characters bursts of spontaneous behaviour, but before he even made it out the front door of the building, his path was obstructed by a large wall of bright hair and bare skin. When he gazed up, he noticed Kirishima was staring directly at him, fingers wrapped around a convenience store bag, contents presumably purchased from the Lawson's next door, his teeth digging into the pink skin of his bottom lip.

"Hey Bakugou." He greeted casually, his upper body still wrapped in a layer of Bakugou's own time-worn jacket, "The guys and I were wondering if you wanted to come to the arcade with us? To celebrate?"

Katsuki stared back at Kirishima for what felt like a solid minute or two, his eyes subtly rolling over the sheer amount of bare skin that could be seen between the gaps in Kirishima's clothes. His mind really was completely out of whack today, and his personality was taking a shift into an unknown territory that he didn't quite enjoy. It was too open, and he refused to let it continue.

"Celebrate what Spikes, your graduation from the school of how to completely forget how to dress yourself for the public eye?" Katsuki grunted, trying to push past Kirishima, but failing to push himself between the edge of the door and the other's muscular upper arm.

"Rude! I happen to look great, anyway, Midnight." Kirishima spoke again, as if that was any kind of explanation, "She called you B...in the band, we all go by a letter from the English alphabet that matches our name...it means she accepts you as one of us, dude."

"Yeah well, I don't need that bitches acceptance anyway." Katsuki scoffed, stepping back once he realised there was no way he was going to be able to slip past, "What is it that you want again exactly Hair-For-Brains?"

"I told you, I wanted to know if you want to come to the arcade with us." Kirishima perked again, lifting the bag he had in his grasp so that it was right in front of Katsuki's face, "Ice cream?"

"I don't like sweet shit." Bakugou declined, shoving the bag from his view, "And I have somewhere to be."

"Aw c'mon dude! You're one of us now! At least come hang out for a little!" Kirishima whined, his expression changing to appear more like that of a kicked puppy that a little punk boy in a well-known band.

Katsuki scoffed outwardly, but it was more at himself than Kirishima. He scolded himself for being so insanely week towards pretty boys with soft expressions and kind eyes. It was something he'd spent years trying to get over, but for some reason Kirishima just seemed to press all the right buttons. He could probably ask Katsuki to do anything and he would do it -even if it took a little coaxing.

"Eijirou!" A voice cried from down the street, catching both the boy's attention as they stepped out from the doorway and onto the sidewalk, "If you don't hurry up all the high school kids will hog the good games!"

It was Kaminari, standing beside Sero at the corner of the road, waving his arms frantically in their direction. The moment he noticed Katsuki follow Kirishima out the studio door, Katsuki instantly saw his expression falter. At least Sparky was one person he never had to worry about trying to drag him around by his collar, even if it was because he dislikes Katsuki immensely.

"Coming guys!" Kirishima called back, causing Katsuki to cringe as an old woman passing by shot them a death glare, which only made Kirishima laugh, bowing a polite apology, before reaching to encase Katsuki's hand within his own, dragging him through the lines of people that made their way down the street. They swerved unevenly through hoards of busy shoppers and suit-tight business men, thankfully making it to the other boys without causing a head-on collision.

"Hey you know I never said I was coming Shitty Hair!" Katsuki yelled, momentarily ignoring the other two boys that were present.

"Mm, but you also never said that you weren't, so I made your mind up for you." He chided, his hand slipping from Katsuki's, before he shoved the plastic bag that he had maintained in his other, towards Kaminari who caught it with ease, pulling what looked like an ice cream from the inside, before passing it over to Sero with a little more care.

"So we're still going to the arcade right? Because they just released the new Gudetama gatcha prizes and I'm going pretty damn well with my current collection." Kaminari spoke around a mouthful of creamy-brown dairy solid, some of it slipping down his jaw messily.

"Oh yeah! I love that little guy! You'll let me have some of your spares right?" Kirishima enthused, the bag finally making it back to his own hands so that he could pull from it what looked like a fruit flavoured popsicle.

Katsuki watched silently as he pulled it from it's wrapper, the pale-yellow frozen food making it's way to his lips quicker than Katsuki could have imagined possible. He never understood it, how people could stand the taste of something so sweet against their tongue. He'd never liked the flavour of sweet things, even when he was a small child and his father would attempt to bribe him with a series of candy or chocolates, it never succeeded.

He soon felt the unmissable chill of said stick-handled confectionary against his bottom lip, pulling him from the odd trance he had fallen into from watching Kirishima's movements. He snapped his head back.

"Oi, what did I say tell you before?" He grumbled, turning his nose up as Kirishima merely pushed the object back towards his face again.

"It's not sweet, its sour, promise, just try." Kirishima pleaded, waving the popsicle by it's wooden handle, droplets of it's sticky residue sliding as long the contours of his fingers.

Katsuki silently cursed himself once more as he pushed his face forward, taking the icy object between his teeth, roughly biting into it's surface and pulling his head back quickly. The frozen substance hurt his teeth, causing his nose to scrunch up in a defence to mask the pain. Once it had cooled enough in his mouth, melting against the warmth of his tongue, he swallowed it down, all while making direct eye contact with Kirishima, who stood in shock before him.

"Tastes like crap." Katsuki spoke once he swallowed, tongue running along both his lips to clean his mouth of any remaining sour taste.

Kirishima pulled the popsicle back, sticking it between his own lips, laughing around it as he eyed Katsuki with an unreadable gaze, before chucking the not-yet-empty plastic bag towards him.

"I got you a can of coffee from the vending machine. I thought I was right in assuming you're more into bitter tastes." He spoke, making a move to push between Katsuki's body and Kaminari, heading towards where Katsuki believed the nearest arcade was probably located.

"Bitter Bakugou." Sero spoke up, shooting Katsuki a wide-toothed grin, before speaking again, quieter as he turned to Kaminari, "Bitter-gou."

"No man." Kaminari huffed, laughing at his friend rather than with him, before turning on his heal to follow after Kirishima.

"Dude are you serious?! That was one of my best ones yet!"

Every bone in Katsuki's body screamed for him to bail out now. He had the opportunity after all. He could just run off, leave the group of delinquents to their own devices, and head home to catch up on some extra study, or even practice a little. But as he watched Kirishima make his way down the path, empty popsicle skin hanging to his side, for some reason his legs were moving regardless of his mind's pleas to bail out.

Maybe Katsuki hadn't changed that much at all.

-

The inside of the arcade was surprisingly loud for somewhere that seemed to sound nowhere near so from the outside. It was probably louder than it usually was during the day, now that school had concluded and the children who were allowed post-school roaming were out and about, spending their pocket money, or maybe even their earnings from a part-time job.

Regardless of this, the arcade itself wasn't as packed as Katsuki had expected it to be. It wasn't his first time being in one since his move to Tokyo, but they still weren't his favourite places in the word. They reminded him a lot of a club, but with far more children and less nice-tasting drinks, unless the drink bar at the other end of the room counted for anything, which it didn't.

"Hanta!" Kirishima called above the noise, jumping to wrap an arm around his friend's shoulder, who stood before a UFO crane machine, hand around the joystick, "You should win me that fat cat plush!"

"No way man." Hanta let down, pushing his finger against the games release button, watching as the claw descended towards his goal prize, "I'm trying to win one for that cute girl over there. I saw her fail at it a couple minutes ago."

"Stingy." Kirishima whined, abandoning Sero's side to make his way over to Bakugou, who until this point had most just been wandering around aimlessly, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, watching his band mates mess around like children amongst the groups of actual children who's voices were driving him crazy.

"Hey Bakubro!" He greeted.

Kirishima's arms were once again bare, Katsuki's jacket wrapped tightly around his waist, concealing just slightly more skin than his make-shift shirt and shorts combination were able to. It was understandable, the air surrounding this part of the arcade was unreasonable warm, especially compared to the breeze outside or the aircon vents near the Pachinko machines.

"You'll win me something right? I'm terrible at this stuff and Hanta is too busy trying to pick up girls that are way out of his league." Katsuki scoffed in response.

"Those things are just a huge waste of money, you can shove it up your ass." Katsuki responded, watching as Kirishima looked around the room forlornly as he spoke.

"Aw, please! Look you can even do that cheap one over there! It's only a hundred yen!" He begged, walking past Katsuki to a smaller crane machine that sat along a row of those that looked similar to it. It's prizes looked shitty, but that's probably why it was so cheap, they were made for kids after all.

"That's a kids machine idiot, why the hell do you want something from there?" Katsuki mocked, walking over to the machine, squinting his eyes as he tried to figure out what the little things inside even were.

"Because I don't care what it is!" Kirishima said honestly, turning to smile over at Katsuki, their close proximity making Katsuki's chest flutter.

Katsuki sighed, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, shoving his guitar case into Kirishima's arms. He had to hunch his back in order to play, which only worked to make him feel like a even bigger loser as he inserted one hundred yen, watching the machine come to life. It was a free movement type, so he took his time moving the joystick around enough that he knew there was no way he wouldn't be able to win one of the small rubber objects inside the case. He slammed the button down, smirking as the claw reached down, taking ahold of a group of the prizes, before gradually creeping back up, only to drop them all before it could reach the drop-off point.

"What the fuck?!" Katsuki growled, ignoring the disapproving gazes of a group of mothers to his right, who were patiently waiting for their children as they played the nearby games. That should have been an easy win. Clearly this thing was fucking broken.

Katsuki huffed, reaching to pull another one hundred yen coin from his wallet, slipping it in an activating his second attempt. It too, failed miserably, which lit a fire inside Katsuki's body that he was unable to extinguish. He shook as many coins as he could from his wallet, ignoring Kirishima's consoling voice that was trying to tell him that it was okay that he hadn't won him anything. Fuck that shitty-haired loser, this was now between him and the machine.

Katsuki inserted every remaining hundred yen join that he had into the slot, ounce again waiting for the machine to come to life, before he moved the joystick roughly, slamming the claw down into a pile of the prizes, watching as they tumbled over the edge into the opening, the claw itself still coming out clean. So that's how this thing wanted to play it, huh? For the remainder of his turns, Katsuki followed the same process. Moving the claw to the edge of the drop zone, and slamming the button down, watching the movement of the claw shift the pile of prizes out of place, causing them to tumble into the opening.

By the end of it, he was reaching down and pulling just under a dozen of what he now recognised as small rubber bird creatures from the prize slot, smirking proudly down at them, before shoving them all into Kirishima's grasp, watching a few of them fall to the ground out of his grip.

"Hope you like your shitty birds, Spikes, because they were so not fucking worth it."

Kirishima made a soft sound of joy, holding the onslaught of birds within his hands, staring down at them with a positively stupid expression.

"They were totally worth it! I love them!" He gushed, reaching an arm out in front of himself, gently lining each bird up along the surface of his forearm to his wrist.

Katsuki couldn't help but raise his brows as he watched the other poke each of the small birds one-by-one, eyes glimmering almost as brightly as his smile. It was ridiculous, that something so small could draw such and intense and intoxicating set of emotions. What was even more ridiculous was the fact that Katsuki couldn't look away. That he didn't want to look away. That someone who had just started out as a somewhat attractive acquaintance, that Katsuki occasionally replied to on social media, could in this moment appear so utterly beautiful in the strangest way possible. He silently cursed himself once more.

"Hey look, this one kinda looks like Mina." Kirishima announced, pointing towards one of the rubber birds upon his arm.

The bird he was referring to was a soft lavender colour, the tips of its wings tinted yellow, fluffy painted feather details in a pastel pink that looked vaguely similar to his roommates carnation-pink hair. Katsuki held in a snort, staring down at the prize with a vague expression.

"Ooh and this one looks like Denki!" Kirishima keened eagerly, poking a bright yellow bird with the tip of his finger, "And this one looks kinda like you dude."

Kirishima's comment caught Katsuki's attention, pulling his eyes to a pale yellow bird that sat neatly upon the red-head's wrist. It was just as round and ugly as the others, with a bright orange beak and two little black lines where it's eyebrows would be, vertically inverted and making the small creature appear angry compared to the plasmid expressions of the others.

"The fuck?" Katsuki growled quietly, lifting his hand to flick the bird upon the floor, "Bird's don't even have eyebrows, are they stupid?"

Kirishima flinched as the tiny rubber bird rolled across the floor, causing him to drop the others, watching as they bounced in different directions. Kirishima gasped audibly, bending down as far as the bag containing his bass upon his back would allow him to, collecting each of the birds and cradling them back in his arms. He plucked a crimson coloured one from the pile, cradling it within his palm.

"This red one can be me!" He gleamed, holding it up towards Katsuki, who had refused to move from his place standing against the machines.

"I have two of them..." he explained further, pushing himself to his feet without much struggle using only the power of his legs, an act that may-or-may-not have made Katsuki's stomach flip a little, "You can have this one."

"Wait, what?" Katsuki questioned, flicking his gaze back up from Kirishima's thighs, to the prize cradled within his palm.

Kirishima pressed forward, shoving it within Katsuki's grasp, not allowing anytime for Katsuki to refuse. The bird was a dark red, with a lighter red scattered amongst it's roughly painted details. It's eyes were much calmer than the one they'd been speaking about previously, it's eyebrows heightened and alert. It was a stupidly happy looking thing, and in fact it did remind Katsuki of Kirishima.

Katsuki moved to shove it deep within his pocket, hoping that his embarrassment wasn't written too prominently upon his features. Why was he embarrassed in the first place? He was the one who'd paid to win the stupid things. Technically they all belonged to him anyway.

When he looked up once more, Kirishima was on his phone, doing what appeared to be a mini-photo shoot with his hideous little prize birds, each of them resting pressed together upon his wide palm. Then came the gasp, and Katsuki prepared himself for another tumble of rubber and intolerable squeaking, but it never came. Instead, Kirishima shoved each of the birds within the pocket of Katsuki's jacket that was still wrapped tightly around his middle.

"This place has the new Resident Evil Simulator!" Kirishima cried, moving to grip Katsuki's guitar case, which he had leant upon one of the machines, before taking Katsuki's own hand within his for the umpteenth time today, threading their fingers and pulling the blond through the rows of claw machines and arcade games, "Denki just sent me a picture on Snapchat! You're gonna love this!"

-

In fact, Katsuki did love this. When they had arrived Kirishima had dropped his hand, standing in front of a row of three spherical machines, curtains covering their entrances. The intention was to obviously enter them to use the simulation, but at that moment they all appeared occupied. This didn't stop Kirishima from opening the curtain of the first one, apologising to the Highschool aged couple who seemed to have been using it as a secluded place to fool around, before moving to the second and flipping the curtain open as well, his stupid face beaming as he discovered both Kaminari and Sero inside.

"C'mon let me and Bakugou have a turn!" He begged, gripping Kasminari's shirt and pulling him from within the machine. Sero himself existed without complaint, laughing in Kirishima's direction.

Once Kirishima had pulled Katsuki inside, he noticed that the ball contained two seat before a set of two controllers, similar to those you would get with a home gaming console. The screen in front of them was wide, yet dim, giving the whole machine and eery feeling. When they curtains were closed, their shoulder's pressed together, Katsuki could practically feel the exact environment that the machines creators were trying to achieve.

This time, Kirishima paid, slipping coins into the slots beneath both controllers, watching enthusiastically as the screen split in two, indicating duel player mode.

When the game began, Katsuki soon realised it was some kind of zombie first-person-shooter simulation, and he instantly became engrossed within it. Katsuki was very competitive by nature, so this was the sort of thing that really got his blood pumping. He found himself leaning forward in his seat, eyes never leaving the screen, even when Kirishima died and had to insert more coins inside the slot. It was deadly, and exciting and Katsuki was kicking ass.

"Holy shit dude, you're pretty damn good at this!" Kirishima complimented, pressing the buttons on his controller with slightly less force than Katsuki, but still succeeding in assisting to take down the current swarm.

"Damn right I am Shitty-shima, I'm a god at everything I do." Katsuki replied, letting a growl fall from his lips as he began smashing the buttons in an attempt to take down the games next boss.

"You guys have been in here forever!" Kaminari's voice could be heard from Kirishima's side of the machine, and Katsuki could briefly see the flash of light that came with the curtain being opened.

"Bakugou hasn't died yet." Kirishima defended, causing Kaminari to scoff.

"Bullshit, no way, move your asses it's our turn!" Kaminari whined, attempted to pull Kirishima from the machine, to no avail.

Instead, both Kaminari and Sero took hold of Kirishima, hauling him towards Katsuki in an attempt to push him through the curtain on the other side of the pond. Kirishima flailed his legs, landing upon Katsuki's lap and disrupting his kill, causing Katsuki to die. The blond hissed within Kirishima's ear, which was surprisingly close seeing Kirishima was basically in Katsuki's lap, kicking at the other side of the machine as Kaminari and Sero pushed themselves inside.

"You made me die Shitty-Hair!" Katsuki scolded darkly, the controller falling from his grip as he wrapped his arms around Kirishima's waist in an attempt to push him from his person.

"It wasn't my fault! It was theirs!" Kirishima defended, beginning to laugh as Katsuki's finger's grazed the bare skin of his hips, the tips of them pressing into his belly.

"You owe me a game smiles!" Kirishima growled towards Sero, who now sat where Kirishima had once been, Kaminari sitting neatly upon his lap, cradling the second controller.

"Hey this was all Denki's doing." Sero blamed, causing Kaminari to smirk.

"Well seeing Kirishima's seems to think you're so damn unstoppable Bakugou, why don't I pay for us, and whoever dies first is the loser?" Kaminari offered, shooting Bakugou a challenging gaze.

"You're on." Katsuki responded easily, immediately moving his hands from Kirishima's side, reaching past the boy's frame to once again grip the controller, "You're big head's in the way Red."

Kirishima's giggled pulled to a quiet stop as he adjusted himself within Katsuki's lap. In reality, he'd been hoping Kirishima would choose to move and actually exit the pod, but seeing the stubborn guy appeared to have no intention to do so, Katsuki let one hand fall from the controller just long enough to spin Kirishima properly in his lap by the boys hip, pushing down on his abdomen so that his back sat flat upon Katsuki's front, his head off to the right side of Katsuki's shoulder so that he could look past it.

"Don't move or I'll kill you." Katsuki threatened, gripping the controller properly once more, just in time for the game to begin.

Kirishima sat comfortably there for the remainder of the session, which lasted surprisingly long. Kaminari was actually pretty good at the game, and just like Katsuki, he seemed to be pretty competitive. Kirishima didn't get in his way much, sitting still against him, only wiggling occasionally to adjust himself into a more comfortable position. At one point Katsuki swore he felt Kirishima's hand idly sliding along the edges of Katsuki's thighs where the redhead's own body wasn't covering his jeans, but he refused to look down from the game to check.

In the end, Katsuki won, of course. His only prize being bragging rights against Kaminari, which was a satisfying achievement within it self. Someone might even say out loud that the way Kirishima turned to him when the game ended, his arms wrapping around Katsuki's shoulder's in a playful embrace, might have even been a prize too, but that person wasn't Katsuki Bakugou.

-

(Snapchat) New Snap from Red Riot

Katsuki's eyes feel to his phone, which sat to his side upon his bed as he rested upon it, crossed legged, typing away at an essay on his laptop. He reached to take his phone in his hand, sliding the notification along and waiting as it loaded upon his screen.

It was a picture of a line of the dumb squeaky bird's that he'd won for Kirishima earlier that afternoon. A red circle around both the light yellow one and the red one that matched the bird that Katsuki had sitting on his desk at the other end of his room. The caption reading:

"Red Birb and Angry Bird sit together, because they like each other the most."

Katsuki locked his phone instantly, letting the device fall upon the surface of his bedding once more.

Stupid Kirishima.

-

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Notes:

Hakone is quite touristy due to the fact that it has a wonderful view of Mt Fuji, and so many lovely onsens. It's wonderful, and even if you guys google it to just have a look at some pictures, I'm sure you'll agree. It's lovely to visit in winter to keep warm, and summer to see Fuji-san in all her glory. It's also near the coast, and if anyone is into Love Live!, it's not too far from where Sunshine!! is set.

Onsens are bathhouses, places for people bath in groups, or even in private. Lovely up in the cold of the Fuji area, but you can find them anywhere in Japan. Tokyo even has an onsen theme park.

Kacchan growled at Kyoka, because it's rude to walk while eating or drinking. Also Kyoka didn't light her cigarette, because she knew Kacchan would growl at her for that too. Japan has designated smoking areas, especially on the street. You have to use those, or you're being rude one again.

Love Hotel's are...well you can look it up, and no, Kiri doesn't actually work at one.

Lawson's, like Family Mart and Mini Stop, are convinience stores. Seven Eleven's are also really popular. Lawson's are also the ones that most do a lot of Evangelion merchandising and promotions, which always land them in my good books thats for sure.

Gacha machines are capsule prize machines. Y'know like where you put some coins in and turn the thing and a little ball comes out with something inside? Gacha is actually an onomatopoeia for the noise the machines make. Plus it's just super fun to say.

Gudetama is by far my favourite Sanrio characters, which is the company that do Hello Kitty. He's a little lazy egg. Me, me af. I am Gudetama, but his merch is super cute, especially the gacha series they come out with.

Japanese schools are privately owned, which I dunno if that familiar to anyone, but to me that was different, because in Australia only Private schools aren't run by the government. All public schools are government based. Anyways, the post-school roaming thing was mentioned, because it's common for certain schools to encourage their students to go home after class or club activities, and they can get into trouble for roaming about, so yeah.

Pachinko machines can often be found in arcades for the fun of gaming, but are more commonly a gambling device found in parlours where adults go to waste their money. In australia similar machines are called pokies, but they're better known to most people as slot machines. Though, I'll tell you now that Japanese ones are off-the-charts crazy with cut scene movies from different anime, all the way to being so intensely mechanical that they almost scary. My fiancé gets upset, because I refuse to play them with her. I'm not lucky guys, I would just lose anyways.

The rubber bird story is actually based off a real life event. I'm not that great at UFO machines (crane or claw machines to people outside Japan), and the easiest way to win smaller prizes is to just smash a pile of them and watch them tumble down (This is a real technique, trust me.) Anyway, I won myself and fiancé a bunch of small rubber birds, which drove her insane, because I would squeak them constantly. I eventually gave a majority of them away to three siblings on the trains, they shared their candy with me c:

The Pod games are actually really cool, I'm not sure if you get them outside Japan, but the new Resident Evil one is amazing, and too easy to get hooked on. It really easy to fall into the world.

#electric moment #electric moment fanfiction #kyomomo #momojirou #kiribaku #bakushima #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kirishima eijirou #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #jirou kyouka #kyouka jirou #kyoka jirou #jirou kyoka #momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo