❛❛𝙒𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜..𝙃𝙚'𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚.❜❜ 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴.
Social anxiety ridden Y/n decides that this year he will get a shared dorm. What will he do when his roommate is a major people hater?
S...
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¡Warning! This chapter may contain =*• explicit language =*• mentions of childe neglect (pun intended) =*• childe abuse =*• slurring (used to harm someone)
{I do NOT own any music and/or characters in this book beside y/n}
Birds were chirping, the smell of freshly cooked rice along with other sides were in the air. While you, we're passed out.. Not very gracefully might I add, your legs were completely spread taking up the whole bed. You were drooling and your hair was not any better than a bird nest.. But what can you say? You move a lot in your sleep. Oh. Now you're rolling over.
'THUD' You faceplant into your floor, groaning in pain. You lie there in disappointment, until you smell the delicious aroma of rice and meat. Quickly, you stand up rubbing your face in sync. You look in the mirror, hurriedly fixing your hair.
Scaramouche sways his hips while stirring a light soup. He simply ignores the opening and closing of your door. You breathe in the mouth-watering smell of his cooking.
"It smells like heaven in here.. I can die happy now." You breathe out in a raspy voice, your eyes were closed with a small smile. You walk over and sit on a chair by the island counter. Scaramouche turns around and faces you with a spoon and apron.
"Shut the fuck up you're distracting me." He grimaced and turned back around. You just raised an eyebrow, your smile fading into a line.
"With my super hot and smexy voice or?" You tease, only earning a scoff from scaramouche. You watch him smoothly finish up breakfast, how his hips swayed unknowingly by him, how his shirt slipped slightly down his shoulder showing his fair beautiful skin.. you were so invested in how perfect he was you didn't even realize he was turned around with food in his hands.
"What the fuck are you staring at?" He huffs while setting down the rice and other things like vegetables and meat. You shake your head and mentally curse yourself for thinking such suggestive things. When you finally put your focus on the food there were practically stars in your eyes.
"This looks great!? Where did you learn to cook like this??" You question while stuffing your face with food. Scaramouches looks away, picking at his finger nail.
¡Warning! Childe neglect/Abuse.
'Mom! I'm hungry!! Can you make food..?' Young Scaramouche begs his mom, who is currently on the phone. He grabs on her dress, and tugs slightly. In return he receives a smack on his hand, immediately letting go.
