#and with either one of these my school is paying me a fucking insane amount of money for 2 months of work
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Fic Idea: 1
Okay. Imagine a bkdk soulmates au where both Izuku and Katsuki are quirkless and know they're soulmates. Quirklessness is significantly more rare than in canon like .05% of the population or something (I really feel like they didn't do the math on exactly how common something that's 20% of the population is lmfao like in a school or 600 kids that's like 120 people. It's literally 1 in 5. Like if there are 5 people in a room odds are 1 of them is quirkless. It's so fucking dumb. Just not rare at all. In your average grocery store there's gonna be 20 quirkless person in there with everyone else. Like my city has less that 2% black people and 6% hispanic and I still see these people all the time! Every time I go out! TWENTY FUCKING PERCENT IS AN INSANELY HIGH PROPORTION. Like 20% of women have been sexually assaulted and no one pretends like THAT'S rare!? Ugh. Dumb. Anyway. I digress.) Mitsuki is pissed/disappointed/resentful that Katsuki is quirkless AND that his soulmate is quirkless. So she like throws herself into finding a way to make someone NOT quirkless. Masaru really doesn't agree so Mitsuki just takes Katsuki and leaves to continue her insane search for a witch doctor.
The LOV functions a little differently than in canon, namely that the Dr is willing to be paid to experiment on people who contact him so he can better his ability to produce nomu/soldiers for AFO. Anyway Mitsuki finds him and pays him obscene amounts of money to experiment on Katsuki to get him a quirk. After numerous surgeries, drug therapies, and lots of fuckery, he finally gets Explosion when he's like 7. He basically grows up in this facility. Sometimes being taken there for just one procedure, sometimes being dropped off for a few days.
Obviously his body isn't built for Explosion so he ends up rupturing his eardrums and having to get implants to hear. His bones aren't built to withstand the recoil, his soft tissue isn't either. So he ends up with all sorts of metal mesh and crap wrapped around his bones and shit to hold them together when they inevitably fracture due to the strain. He gets nose bleeds and migraines when he uses his quirk for too long or goes too hard. And he's got early onset arthritis from all the damage that's been done testing/training the Explosion and from the surgeries. Literally looks like he's been used to teach how to do disections. Not to mention that all the drugs and shit they used to help his body acclimate to the quirk have messed up his stomach and intestines so he's gotta eat a pretty bland diet otherwise his body struggles with it.
Just has severe chronic pain but he just deals because he's literally never known anything else and also he's never been taught how to do anything other than schoolwork and fighting. He has no hobbies. No interests except medical knowledge because he wants to understand what they're doing to him and he can't do shit with that because his hands are all fucked up. Writing is hard enough, imagine having to try and give someone an injection or literally anything else.
So cut forward several years. Izuku gets OFA and they both get into UA. Katsuki's first reaction is "that fucker LIED to me!" Which fades pretty quickly cause they were like 4-5. If Izuku really did lie to him then it was probably just a little kid trying to make his friend and soulmate feel better. Not some malicious gag. So he doesn't say anything. Izuku is overjoyed to see Kacchan and that Kacchan has a quirk. They both talk to each other about their quirks a little before class and Izuku is just extremely awkward about it.
Then the fitness tests happen and Izuku breaks his fucking finger using his quirk and Katsuki's like "OMG INKO DID THIS SHIT TO YOU TOO" and he's pissed. Just so unbelievably pissed. Angry beyond belief that someone would do that to Izuku. The kindest human on the planet (from what he remembered) and his soulmate. But he doesn't do anything right then. He hardly knows Izuku anymore and he can't prove shit.
So they get closer as they go through the first semester of UA and Katsuki just straight up refuses to meet Izuku at Izuku's house because he doesn't want to see Inko. They always meet at a cafe, or a park, or something. Katsuki also starts helping Izuku practice his quirk because the dumbass clearly has 0 control over it and that's just gotta change.
Eventually Izuku gets Katsuki to come over to his house and Katsuki's just being a complete dick to Inko who is just so confused and a bit hurt/offended? Like wtf Katsuki? And it eventually culminates in Katsuki chewing her out over acting like she cares when she clearly doesn't because she obviously paid to have Izuku tortured just because she couldn't stand for her son to be quirkless. And he also lectures Izuku about "why the fuck are you defending her?! She hurt you!"
And Inko and Izuku are both like... "Katsuki? Is there something you want to tell us?"
And Izuku ends up having to tell Katsuki and Inko about OFA and All Might and they convince Katsuki to tell them about all the shit that happened to him.
Bonus points if Aizawa restricts Katsuki from using his quirk fully during training until he's build up more stamina/endurance because he's ALSO hurting himself since he keeps getting nose bleeds during training. Then when Aizawa insists that Katsuki go get checked out by Recovery Girl and Katsuki blatantly refuses, Aizawa suspends him, gets hella chewed out by Mitsuki, and becomes suspicious that something's going on because Mitsuki just keeps insisting that Katsuki's been cleared by their personal doctor. Nedzu gets involved, they find out about the whole human experimentation thing and Nedzu absolutely goes to town, just so fucking triggered and angry. They raid the facility, get it shut down, get custody of Katsuki, and Recovery Girl starts fixing some of the shit they did to him. Would be adorable if Inko ended up with custody but I have way to many Dadzawa feels for that 😆
#fic ideas#fic idea 1#bkdk#mha#au#my ideas#angst#hurt comfort#cause Izuku and Aizawa and All Might and Inko would fix it#because this also has great potential for Dad Might feels#but IMAGINE erasermic ending up with a very grumpy Katsuki who's got severe chronic pain#and struggles not to be utterly pissed about everything because it all hurts so bad all the time#baku no hero academia#my hero academia#bakugou katsuki#midoriya izuku
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For those of you not in Tennessee, we have a problem.
Well, we have a lot of problems, but we have a big one that crash landed on the doorstep of 60% of all 3rd graders in the state.
A problem that educators said would be a problem, but the ones who would know were ignored (as tends to be the pattern).
The 3rd grade retention law went into effect. Simply put, 3rd grade students who do not perform proficiently in the reading portion of the TCAP test must either be tutored or attend "summer reading camps" (aka, summer school), and show adequate growth to pass to the 4th grade.
What is "adequate growth"? Well, parents and teachers had no fucking clue until LAST FRIDAY!
Here you go for this particular bit of government 🐂💩:
And when were students and parents made aware of their TCAP results? Yesterday. Mostly anyway. Because apparently there was some scoring problems in some districts or something.
And when does the school year end? For some kids, this week. For others, it's already over.
And 60% of ALL 3RD GRADERS in this state didn't meet the requirements to move on.
And I know you're thinking, "Well, kids should be proficient in reading. Literacy is declining." And I agree. But something bad is happening here.
There's been a push for private school vouchers happening for the past few years in the state. Some districts have pushed very hard against certain private (Christian) schools being opened in their areas, but it is happening and there's legislation pending.
https://tennesseelookout.com/2023/02/09/private-school-voucher-bill-for-hamilton-rolls-through-committee/
But what does this have to do with the 3rd grade retention law and 60% of 3rd graders not meeting proficiency on the TCAP test?
Here's the thing. Not every 3rd grader in TN is subject to this law. How can that be possible? Well, 3rd graders who are homeschooled are not required to take the TCAP (no homeschooled students are), but they can take it if they want (unless they're disabled students in the IEA program, who may be end up being exempt anyway):
But that's just homeschooling. What about private schools? The ones that I mentioned above?
Yeah, only 5% of private schools in TN are required to use the TCAP (and the IEA program students mentioned above, unless the student is exempted).
So what's happening on the ground? This is only anecdotal (because my own kid is an adult now), but I'm seeing a non-insignificant amount of people who are upset because their children (3rd graders and younger who will be 3rd graders) questioning the public school system. To be clear, they're not upset at teachers or school faculty. They're upset at administration to the highest level and feeling like their children have been wronged by this. Parents whose children don't miss school and bring home good grades.
These parents are seriously looking at pulling their children out of public schools over this.
I know several teachers who are making plans for their futures that don't include them being teachers in this state anymore.
Surrender is setting in, and the battle for public schools in Tennessee is getting ready to be dealt a major blow.
Before you sit back and say, "Well, it's a red state. You get what you voted for", you're right. But if you haven't been paying attention for the last few years, let me fill you in. Tennessee is a Republican super majority state. As such, we've had some pretty insane, freedom limiting laws be put into place. Other similar states have done the same.
You should be looking at Tennessee (and FL, TX, and all the others) like the canary in the coal mine that it is, and pay attention to the laws and statutes already in place to see what the end game is.
You already know there's a battle happening against public schools in the US. What is happening in TN is an early warning. Their tactics are working.
This isn't even getting into all the other anti-public school stuff that these people are doing. Teachers, counselors, books, libraries, librarians, they're all under attack.
It is a battle of public opinion. They're winning the battle.
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Imma rumble a bit about housing and money okay?
This is my second year in university and I am VERY LUCKY to be paying only 275€ rent a month (not counting bills), having to walk only 8 minutes to school and having the supermarket literally in front of me.
That being said, I share the apartment with 4 other people, we sleep in doubles, have only one small ass bathroom and the kitchen is small amd SHIT. meaning the ceiling above the counters is cracked and crumbling, and there's MOLD on half the left wall. I don't have the courage to move the counter and look at just how far it spreads. Not to mention they built the pipe system wrong and we couldn't use the heater for most of last winter.
(Bit of backstory: I found this place OUT OF PURE LUCK cuz this dude I was first looking for rooms with had seen two apartments, didn't like this one, and asked me if I was interested instead. Before this, after two months of looking, I had been almost scammed by these fuckers pretending to be an agency on housing sites, who I called for a couple apartments they were advertising. They told me I had to come in person to sort everything out. 2h 45 and a train ticket later, turns out they wanted me to pay them 250€ to "start looking for a house for the next 6 months". I fucking sprinted out the door.)
I wanted to try and find another place to stay this year, but quickly had to turn back once I saw the prices. 400 - 500€ for a fucking double, up to 800€ for a single room, and bills are always additional. My new course mates are desperate and have been trying to find a place since they got accepted (some of them got word in JULY) and I took I upon myself to contact the people in charge of my apartment for some of them since apparently THESE FUCKERS AREN'T RESPONDING CALLS OR EMAILS
And yes I have fucking proof. I called AND emailed them, leaving my course mates' details (with their permission) stating they were very urgently looking for places. I immediately received a response email. AT THE SAME TIME, under my instructions, THEY sent their own emails details contacts and all. THEY STILL HAVEN'T HEARD BACK.
School starts in 3 weeks. Now many of them will either have to pay an absurd amount of money to be a 40 minutes bus ride from school IF THEY'RE LUCKY or renounce their studies. Of which they have already paid the first 1000 something € fee. Non refundable.
Oh yeah did I mention my school costs 7500€ a year? (which it was 6800 last year and got raised) And that the only reason I can afford that is the fact my little sister doesn't want to ho to uni, so I'm using two people's worth school fund? And I still have 3 more years to go, not knowing if the piece will raise again.
We have class Monday to Saturday, 9 to 8, and sometimes 9 to 9. We're physically unable to work and those who try working either can't find anything or quit almost immediately.
I have a "budget" of around 400€ a month for bills, food and meds. I don't eat out, I don't go out for drinks, I only drink 1€ black coffee and god knows I eat just the right amount of food I need to survive. And sometimes it's not enough, and I have to fight with my parents about needing more money cuz "You can't possibly have spent it all already". And even when I show them the fucking records from my card, the same story repeats the month after.
What the fuck are we supposed to fucking do?? I know our generation will never be able to afford a house, but not even a small apartment to share with 3 to 5 other people?!?!?
This is fucking insane.
#vent#sorry y'all#housing#debt#taxes#student#students#university#loans#housing crisis#fucking boomers#gen z#millennial#yes I'm fucking targeting tags on this one cuz I need to know how y'all are doing and what you thing about this#Italy#Cuz of fucking course Italy socks
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Every time I hear people say "Go talk to queer people irl" I think about the GSA that was at my high school because oh my godddd 😭 You could not PAY me to talk to them. I didnt really interact with them all that much, but I was in choir with some of them. They'd sit in a group near me, and I would listen in- if I didn't have earbuds I'd have no choice. Loud people.
But the amount of he said/she said inane bullshit that they'd pass back and forth was insane. Like the stupidest most meaningless petty drama. I can hardly even come up with examples it was so... nothing. Picture "starting drama in the Steven Universe gc" type things.
Not to mention, one of the only times I did interact with some of the leaders they looked at me like a freak 💀 IDK WHAT I EVEN DID BRO. We were talking and I was trying to be nice and make friends and they said something about gender and I was like "haha between you and me I'm more on the man side myself" or some other phrase indicating I'm not cis and they were kind of like...erm... k. I don't know how else to describe it other than subtle (yet obvious) judgment and disgust. It wasn't like a cis thing either, they were some of the only other trans people at my school that I knew about. Like goddamn fuck this I'm just going back in the closet, bye I GUESS.
Yeah whatever talking to LGBT people irl is good blah blah blah WHATEVER I know I have friends BUT. Some people you meet are going to suck asssssss and bring that toxic garbage into the real world. Don't talk to those mfs!! Waste of time!!
#just LISTENING to their personal drama was draining#like ngl if i was friends with these people id have walked into the ocean before i graduated goddamn 😭#oh no im remembering more from school. what a lovely place#anyway i should have known...#TOO obsessed with bmc Hamilton and that other one with the dead kid
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JUDE & NAOMI — DAY THIRTY-THREE.
location : bedroom.
time : late afternoon / early evening.
description : jude lets naomi play dress up. she’s everything, he’s just ken.
featuring : naomi / @heatwayve
𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.
“do you reckon hawaiian or paisley?” jude asks, eyes finding naomi’s in the mirror. he’s holding two shirts up in front of himself chopping and changing like a paper dress-up doll. “hawaiian shirt guy is like, guy who works in recruitment and is here to party. paisley’s like, chill dude who works in the arts and drinks merlot. i dunno what vibe i'm feeling tonight.”
naomi santos
“ew,” naomi sits up from where she’s been laid out on the bed. she’s not much of a napper, but she didn’t get a ton of sleep last night, needed to lay down a bit. but now people are filing into the bedroom, starting to get ready for the evening, and it seems like now she’s awake to help school the fashionably challenged. “are those your only two options? hawaiian print and paisley?” he hasn’t sold either of them very well, to be honest. “let me see,” she gets up, wandering over to his wardrobe and hip-checking him out of the way a little and thumbing through the options he’s got hanging up for shirts. christ, it’s grim. “maybe you should just keep it simple tonight. do you have anything that’s like…one color?”
𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.
jude’s eyes dart down at the two options in front of him, suddenly sheepish, hoping to god the colour hasn’t risen in his cheeks. “yeah?” he answers, sounding unsure. honestly, jude had nabbed most of the shirts with fun patterns on their first day, but most of them suited angel more. “i just think patterns are fun. sorry that you hate fun.” jude makes a dramatic display of being knocked out of the path of her hip thrust, stumbling back from the wardrobe to give her space, the two shirts held limply in his hands like a sports day rosette for ‘taking part’. lips pursed, he scans across the hangers of the shirts, trying to ascertain if any of them lack a print. it’s slim pickings. “i’ve got like, a red corduroy shirt. that could work. it’s just a bit… y’know. i mean aren’t plain colours a bit dry?” naomi might know more about fashion, but jude has his own sense of style.
naomi santos
"i don't hate fun! just this shit is loud, what is this?" she asks, holding up one of the shirts, "saturday night fever? no." she gives him a look, an exaggerated roll of her eyes as jude stumbles back like he's performing for a football foul. "maybe if you have a nice, like, artistic pattern or something? just not the fucking paisley," naomi implores him. she's not trying to cramp his style completely, just trying to keep him from strutting out there like bob pinciotti. though judging by the volume in the room last night, jenny doesn't seem to really mind either way – though maybe she's gone blind. "it's too hot out for corduroy." she resists the urge to punctuate that with, duh. amazes her how helpless boys can be sometimes.
𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.
honestly, most of jude’s clothes are louder than on the outside, hoarded as part of his eBay haul on the first day of casa, and probably to compensate for his lack of a personality. adidas jackets and a pair of knock off levi’s don’t really cut it in the villa where everyone else is in vivienne westwood and bloody gucci. “don’t shit on saturday night fever. john travolta’s like… he’s like… an icon or some shit.” though his best role’s probably hairspray. the amount of times jude had to sit through that film as a teenager to placate his sister siobhan… insane. “also! bee gees… they’re from manc.” lifting his hand, he jabs his thumb towards himself. although technically they’re from cholton-cum-hardy where you’d pay eight quid for a schooner of ale when you could get a pint for two pound seventy down the road at spoons. posh fucks. “fine then. if my taste is so shit, you chose my outfit.” honestly, it’s not a bad idea. this could even be fun, movie montage style — he'll come out of the wardrobe in flippers and a snorkel to the sound of a canned laugh track. “bet you’d love to play dress up with me.” because she’s controlling, or whatever the current locker room narrative about naomi is. he doesn’t know much about what happened with her and josh last night, only that he probably got his ass handed to him. “how was the hideaway?” jude asks, slotting the two shirts back into the wardrobe, turning to lean his shoulder against the mirror and face her. “what’s it actually like in there? is it gaudy as fuck?”
naomi santos
she wrinkles her nose, "stop, danny zuko rights maybe, but john travolta is totally gross." she can say that because she's met him. or maybe that's especially why she shouldn't say it. whatever. "that's your style icon? the bee gees?" she asks with a laugh, eyebrows arching, "god, you need more help than i originally thought." even though he's the one who'd actually asked. all she knows about the bee gees is that it's disco, and abba is more fun anyway. naomi tries to contain the excitement that shines in her eyes when jude says that she can dress him up, because this is precisely the kind of thing that's fun for her, lizzie mcguire fashion show montage with ru paul playing in the background. and yeah, she is a bit controlling. "seriously?" alright, she smiles at him before turning around rifle through his things in the closet. he's got the worst of it, all the odds and ends of an already picked-through eBay stash, the leftovers no one wants. it's a good thing that naomi likes a challenge. she tosses him one of the shirts, "try this," she says, rifling through to dig up some kind of jean jacket, which might not even be jude's, "– oh, and this. and maybe..." she tosses him another shirt with a pattern she finds mildly acceptable. it all depends on what he's got for shoes. "oh, yeah," naomi replies, flipping her hair back over her shoulder as she turns around, deciding to stop when she notices the pile of options she's already chucked at him. "it's like. the bratz doll coke lounge. barbie's dream sex dungeon," she snorts. "you jealous?"
𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.
jude’s “wow” is more from astonishment at her reaction than any of the options she’s tossing him (and there’s a lot of options). if he’d known giving her free reign over his styling choices was all it took to squeeze a smile out of her, he’d have done this sooner. admittedly, it stings a little that she thinks his choice in clothes is whack. jude had always considered himself to be pretty stylish, but maybe it is time to trade in the adidas tracksuits for something more chic — which is what he’d been trying to accomplish with the patterned shirts, but it’s clearly backfired. on the outside, he’s more of a t-shirt and jeans on a night out kinda guy, simple and non-flashy, with a coloured overshirt if he’s feeling fun. “sex dungeon. woah,” jude repeats, eyes wide like one of those cat clocks whose pupils move on each tick. “jealous? of josh? no.” he answers quickly, catching another one of the shirts she tosses him and adding it to the pile of shit laid over his arm. it feels like shopping for siobhan’s prom dress all over again. “of you guys getting a night in the hideaway? yeah kinda. feel like jenny and i would proper thrive in there.” noting that his pile of shit is probably enough to be getting on with, he dumps them on the bed and pulls his current shirt up over his head. “y’want me to like, change in the hallway and walk in so you get the full effect of the fit, or just… do it in front of you?” he’s not uncomfortable with her watching him change—it would feel weird asking her to turn her back when he’s seen her in a bikini like, every day—but it dulls the effect somewhat if she’s just watching him fiddle with the buttons. “or i could try and change inside the wardrobe. pop out like one of those figures in a cuckoo clock, the sound of music style.” he reckons naomi’s probably into all that singing and dancing shit like his sister is.
naomi santos
she snorts at that, "i meant of josh because he won a night in hideaway," though insinuating jude wants her is more of a funny bit than anything now, 'cause she adds, "the lad doth protest too much, huh?" quirks an eyebrow as she anticipates his firm denial. probably just as speedy as the last one. if he hesitates three times, he might invoke jenny like beetlejuice. "you would, though. you guys really get on, huh?" it's a fond question, though maybe a callback to everyone's early disbelief in them. naomi's never felt quite like that, jude's interest in jenny has always been clear to her. she just didn't enjoy how the romi thing transpired. "jude," she cracks up at the way he seems to overthink it, mirth shining in her eyes as her nose crinkles. "you're insane. i can just turn around," she says, half-pivoting on her heel before she stops, "though if you want to try the whole superman thing in the wardrobe, it might look pretty fun..." great fodder for unseen bits, really. "captain von trapp was my first crush, actually." as he should be.
#i really wanted to do more of this thread but time is so unforgiving.#jude & naomi.#⥂ jude dempsey. ╱ threads.#jude & naomi 004.
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im so fucking excited abt these internships
#im writing my cover letters for all of them and the more i write about how i would be good in the position#the more excited i get abt each position#honestly tho there r ones that i would prefer over the ones im applying for but so many of them require a valid drivers license bleh#like my third choice is definitely actually my like 5th choice#but my top two choices.... MWAH#theyre so different too one i would be a technical theater intern#and like work on set design and construction and do manual labor for like 8 hours a day#which like i am worried abt w my chronic pain but like .... power tools i need it#and the other one is like a (probably) virtual research internship#which is like what my two past internships have been#so i KNOW i would b good at it#and its with the historical society here and theres a chance i would get to like LEARN old printing techniques which would be SO cool#and with either one of these my school is paying me a fucking insane amount of money for 2 months of work#like it runs from the end of may to the end of july and the school is giving my thousands of dollars...... aaaaaAAAAAAAA#THIS PROGRAM IS SO COOL AND EXCITING IM SO GLAD I APPLIED AND IM SO HAPPY I GOT ACCEPTED#carolynn also applied and Didnt get accepted which i feel bad abt#but also carolynn is like one of the smarted most qualified ppl i know so like#i DO b feeling good abt myself#im so excited..... waow i hope i get one of those two positions#the historical society one only has one position available but the theater one has 2.... ihope if i get it its with someone cool#im also at a disadvantage for that one because im not studying theater#but im so excited..... wrow
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subtle | shouto todoroki/reader
pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader
status: complete
length: 2,171 words
summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.
tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day
warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)
There was a box on your desk.
There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.
The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.
The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.
So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.
Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.
Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.
Your mouth watered.
That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.
You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.
You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.
You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.
“You look puzzled."
You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.
This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.
Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.
You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.
“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”
Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.
“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.
Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”
You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”
You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.
“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.
The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.
“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.
“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.
You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.
He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.
“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.
Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”
You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.
“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”
Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.
“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.
“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”
It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.
Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.
You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.
“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.
You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”
He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”
“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.
The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”
You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.
“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.
“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.
A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.
You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”
Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.
This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?
“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”
You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.
”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”
Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.
“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”
You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.
#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki x reader#todoroki shouto#bnha#bnha fanfic#bnha x reader#boku no hero academia#shouto todoroki x reader
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The Great IKEA Game
Chapter 11: Playing the Game
AN: I hope y'all enjoy this non-stop flirt-a-thon, chapter count got increased again, so we'll get back to the plot in the next chapter!
At first, Marinette didn’t know how to act. This was the last route she expected Damian to take. The shock of Damian’s lips against hers turned her body rigid; hands splayed out to the sides, unsure of where to touch. After a second of floundering, she gained enough bearing to place her hands firmly on Damian’s arms. Her once still lips hesitantly moving against his. The closed-mouth kiss stayed chaste, but Marinette found herself fluttering her eyes closed, sinking into the warmth.
Damian stood taller than her, bending into the kiss while she craned her neck. Marinette pushed herself upward, arching onto the tips of her toes, and Damian’s hands wrapped tighter around her waist, deepening the kiss. She readjusted her mouth for a second grabbing a quick gasp of air before diving in again with more fervor. Damian responded in kind, pushing her back fully against the wall, one hand migrating from her waist to cup her cheek.
Damn. Damian was a good kisser.
“What the- Hey, customers are not allowed to be in here!”
Oh, right. The employee. That’s why they were kissing.
Why would kissing be helpful in this situation?
Not that Marinette was complaining, but-
Damian pulled away from her, and Marinette held back a pitiful whine when he turned away and faced the employee.
‘Bad thoughts, Marinette,’ she chided herself. ‘Focus on the mission, not Damian, or his lips, or his eyes, or-’
“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” said Damian with a bashful smile.
Wait…
Blink.
What?
Marinette dragged herself out of the kiss-induced bliss, focusing on her co-conspirator, and had she been less in control of herself her jaw would have dropped.
Damian’s whole demeanor had markedly changed. His normal sharp posture sunk into a causal slouch; the emotions on his face, generally a mix of sharp observation or practiced disdain, now a mix of charming elegance and, yes, bashfulness. He flashed a wide grin at the oncoming employee, a person in their early twenties, who froze when they saw them.
Or rather, Damian.
Rapidly blinking bright blue eyes gazed at them. “Oh, oh you- you’re-”
“Yeah, yeah, we all know who I am,” said Damian, rubbing the back of his neck. Even the way he spoke changed; careful pronunciation and formality thrown out the window for a lax New Jersian drawl. “What’s your name?” He asked with such a genuine smile, had Marinette not been versed in people lying through their teeth, she would have bought it.
Not for the first time, Marinette wondered how famous Damian’s family was – obviously rich enough, and high profile enough - to be recognized on the spot.
The person paused for a moment, fiddling with a strand of curly blond hair. “I’m- I’m ah… Fey, nice to meet you Mr.-”
Damian cut them off with a laugh. “Oh please, any name with a mister makes me think of my father or my older brother. Call me Dami.” He offered a hand to the flustered Fey. They limply shook it.
“Oh… ah- alright Dami.”
Damian encircled a hand around Marinette’s waist dragging her out of the weirdness induced fugue state she’d fallen into. “And this… well,” he lowered his eyes, catching her attention and winked. “This is my girlfriend Marinette.”
Fuck, this is what he meant by play along.
Fey dropped open their mouth before closing it quickly.
“Oh, I hadn’t read-”
Damian cut the flustered employee off again.
“We’ve kept it quiet.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The papers would devour a story like this,” he said, with a sense of vapid annoyance, although a trace of his normal calculated disdain accented his words.
Note to self; Damian didn’t like the media. Good, Marinette didn’t much like the invasive vultures either.
Fey nodded along, twirling a lock of hair on their finger. “Oh yeah, that totally makes sense.” They paused shaking their head to clear away an emotion… awe? Fear? Marinette couldn’t tell. “But uh, why are you here? Like in the stairwell, not in the store. Because of course celebrities would still shop, right? I mean-” Poor Fey was a stuttering mess. Marinette almost felt bad for them.
She felt like an absolute stuttering mess too, but she would be damned if Damian would carry this lie all by himself.
She was fucking Ladybug; savior of Paris, Guardian of the Miraculous.
She could act like a lovestruck fool.
“It iz so sweet,” she said, emphasizing her accent to add a little more pageantry to this entire scheme. “I just arrived back from Paris, and wanted to decorate my new apartment with ze ah-” she waved her hands around, “Oh, how you Americans put it? Fairy lights?”
Fey nodded quickly. “Yeah, we have a couple of good selections, but-” Marinette continued before they could logic their way out of the made-up cover story.
“I planned to go by myself, but Dami-” at this she moved forward to wrap her arms around his, leaning into his side. The warmth of his body bleeding through his clothes. “He insisted on ‘companying me even though he dozen’t like ze crowds.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “He gets grumpy,” she divulged with a girlish giggle. Why Damian did a 180 on his personality was a complete mystery, but if he dropped the act, this would make Fey less suspicious.
Fey nodded right along like Marinette’s comment made total sense. “Yeah, I don’t read too many magazines, but damn they must pin you all wrong,” they said to Damian. From Marinette’s position at his side, she felt his body tense the slightest amount. “Gotham’s Ice Prince, yeah right.”
Marinette inwardly quirked an eyebrow. ‘Ice Prince, huh?’ The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on where she’d heard it before.
Damian nervously chuckled again, sounding more authentic this time. “Oh no, I’m a grump when it comes to the media, I fully admit. My, ah,” he looked at her again, an apology flashing in his green eyes. “Angel here puts me in a better mood.”
A rushing noise filled Marinette’s ears, and her heart quickened. She vaguely registered a squeal of delight coming from Fey, but it sounded far away compared to her blood pounding at a thunderous level. Heat flushed in her cheeks, and the confident smile she plastered on her face almost dropped at the pet name.
Angel.
He called her angel.
What level of utter insanity had she dropped into?
“A few disguises later,” Damian continued, adjusting the glasses on his face, and oblivious of the turmoil he’d created in Marinette’s mind. “I thought we’d be able to stay under the radar, I just wanted a day out with my girlfriend,” he said with a put-upon sigh. The emotional, charming actions stood in complete opposite to Damian’s normal demeanor.
Marinette found herself desperately torn between breaking down laughing hysterically or clapping at Damian’s masterful performance.
“You got noticed?” asked Fey.
“We got noticed.” Damian sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Marinette regretted not touching it while she and Damian kissed; was it as fluffy as it looked? “And Marinette, the sweet angel she is, isn’t used to the whole utter insanity of… you know, dating a celebrity.” He glanced at her, teasing her with a fonder smirk than his usual. Marinette wanted to roll her eyes. Damian had no clue she knew very well the consequences of dating a celebrity.
Never mind she’d only dated Adrian a month before they broke up because his dad turned out to be a psychopathic supervillain intent on plunging the whole of France into an apocalyptic hellscape in an attempt to upset the universes’ balance, and was fully okay with killing the both of them to make it happen.
Being friends after that little debacle was the better option. For both their sanities.
‘Focus Marinette.’ She dragged her attention back to the conversation.
“We kinda ducked in here when nobody was paying attention. I want to keep this away from the media as long as possible, for my angel’s privacy.” Marinette wanted to scoff at how Damian leaned into that nickname. He certainly was laying it on thick. Marinette wouldn’t have bought the act, but that was due to her years of lying and deceiving in the name of super-heroics.
Fey, with their eager demeanor and bright blue eyes, didn’t stand a chance.
“Oh, that’s awful people wouldn’t leave you alone. I bet most celebrities would be familiar with the attention, but for you to look out for Marinette too?” They whistled. “Damn girl, he’s a keeper for sure.”
The blush gracing Marinette’s cheeks was 100% real. “Oh, well, ah, zank you. I know.”
“Well, no one will hear a word from me,” Fey promised. They fiddled with their hands and sent a shy smile at Damian. Marinette’s stomach clenched at the sight, and without her permission, her traitorous hands tightened their grip on Damian’s arm. “Without your family’s scholarship, my sister never would have graduated med school. She would kill me if I even thought of ratting you out to the papers.”
“Oh…” said Damian, his outward appearance of shock mirroring Marinette’s own internal emotions.
‘His family is rich enough to fund medical scholarships?’
“Well, that’s not on me directly, you know,” he commented. “All my father’s doing. I hope- ah… I hope she’s doing well?” Although his face portrayed a bashful and relaxed air, his body language screamed uncomfortableness. Marinette released one hand from his arm and brought it to rest on the small of his back, circling her thumb around. He relaxed, slightly, and Marinette smiled.
“Yeah, actually she is,” said Fey beaming. “She’s working at the new pediatric clinic that opened in Crime Alley.”
“Good for her,” said Damian honestly. “We need more people willing to work to make the city a better place. Money can only do so much.”
“Money definitely helps though,” Fey replied, wryly. Marinette agreed. Long-buried memories of her early years arose. Living above her parents’ shop, where every month they spread their bills across the kitchen table and talked in hushed tones while Marinette sat on the steps to her attic room and worried, even if at five and six she didn’t know what she was worried about.
Those days were long gone. Her parents and their creations internationally famous, with three separate locations across the greater Paris metro alone. But that worry never really went away.
Fey shifted on their feet reading their watch. “Well, you guys stay here if you want until whatever crowd out there loses interest.” They gestured to the door Marinette and Damian entered through. “Or you can come with me if you want?” Pointing to the other locked door. “I’m heading out to the atrium to deal with a problem, but you can continue on with your shopping.”
“Zank you so much,” Marinette replied. “We will go with you if you do not mind?”
“Of course not,” said Fey, walking to the door and pulling out a security key. They opened the door, but Damian held it allowing Marinette and Fey to walk through before he followed. Placing a hand once more around Marinette’s waist.
“What problem in the atrium, if you don’t mind me asking?” he prodded, sharing a look with Marinette.
It could be nothing, but it could also have something to do with his brothers.
Considering their luck today, Marinette would be shocked if it wasn’t the latter option.
“Oh, well it started with the children’s center shutting down. Apparently, the kids got it in their minds to start a dodge ball fight with the workers. Which, you know, totally fair,” confided Fey, as they walked through the back corridors. “Sounded like it was a blast to watch. I was such a shit when I was a kid, I would have joined them in a heartbeat. It wrapped up fairly quickly, but they can’t convince the main instigator to descend from the jungle gym. I think they’re still hunting down her parents.”
Marinette pursed her lips trying to hold back a smile. ‘Oh, Abby,’ she thought, ‘you absolute gem.’
“I only heard about it from Lisa when I got back because I was dealing with a security issue in the back lot.” Fey glanced at them nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong, we’re perfectly safe.”
Marinette and Damian shared a look.
Jason.
“Of course,” said Marinette.
Followed by a quick, “Absolutely,” from Damian.
Fey relaxed. “So this is, apparently, a whole bunch of workers on strike? They walked out of the back warehouse and congregated in the atrium, spouting on about living wages and corrupt big business, and the effects of verbal abuse in the workplace.” Fey said with a wave of their arms. “And it’s not like I don’t agree, because I do. Jerry, the warehouse general manager, is an asshole.” Marinette and Damian exchange worried glances at the rotund angry man’s name, who they last saw dragging a singed Tim into an office.
“…but it makes my job hard,” whined Fey, oblivious to their compatriot’s inner panic. “And the Starbucks baristas joined them, so their kiosk closed too.” Fey chuckled, “I would avoid the whole area if I were you, especially if you don’t want anyone finding out you’re together.”
“I wonder how zat ended up happening?” Marinette asked hopefully her high-pitched voice conveyed confusion instead of slowly settling in panic.
“They called in saying some guy lead the charge, he’s worked the crowd into a fervor. I’m there to be the HR rep while security tries to remove him. You know, normally my job involves sitting at a desk all day listening to bitchy customers on the phone. I’ve dealt with more in-store problems today since last Black Friday.” Fey chuckled. “What a day, ya’ know?”
Marinette glanced at Damian, his casual mask still firmly in place, although his left eye twitched, and the hand he wrapped around her waist, tightened at Fey’s words.
Fey finally reached another door, pulling out their pass and lead them out into the store’s main section.
“Well, it was nice to meet you Marinette, Dami,” Fey chirped. “Nobody will hear from me about any of this.” They mimed zipping their lips.
Marinette smiled, hoping the strain wasn’t too noticeable. “It waz nice to meet you too Fey.”
“Good luck with whatever is happening in the atrium,” said Damian. They stood at the door and watched them move out of sight. When Fey finally disappeared around a corner, Damian turned to Marinette his casual persona rippling away as if it never existed at all. His hand slipped off her waist.
She did not, absolutely not, want to grab it and put it back thank you very much.
“How much do you wish to wager on Drake’s involvement in whatever is occurring in the atrium?” he asked. Marinette smiled, reassured at the return of his clipped and formal tone. The informal speech felt wrong coming from Damian’s mouth.
“Oh, I don’t know Dami?” she teased. Then again, she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by her. “I don’t think I have enough money for that bet with you.”
Damian closed his eyes with a grimace and sigh. “Do not call me that.” He opened his eyes, an expression just short of pleading radiated from them “Please.”
“I would rather gag, and it sounds so would you.” Marinette covered her grin with her hand, unable to stop a slight giggle at the man’s long-suffering tone. “You pulled off vapid lovesick celebrity well, but why the need to act at all?”
“I have plenty of reference to draw from,” he grumbled, piquing Marinette’s interest; every half aside comment enticing her to dig further at Damian’s life. “I needed whoever descended those steps on our side and my normal... demeanor tends to put people off.” He folded his hands behind his back, a perfect picture of casualness, but the tightness around his eyes and the twitch of his mouth was all Marinette needed to note his self-consciousness.
“Well, I for one find your usual self charming,” Marinette admitted, pleased when Damian relaxed at her words. “You freaked me out acting that weird.”
“It is not an option I use often,” Damian admitted. “My brothers tend to make big productions of themselves. I prefer a far subtler approach, but this required more theatrics to make it believable.” He glanced at her. “I hope…” he paused. She watched his hand flutter and turn into a fist at his side. “I hope I did not overstep your bounds, that is, I mean violate your...” Damian refused to look at her, his gaze firmly planted on a far wall.
Marinette could let the poor man continue but ended up taking pity on him before he dug an even deeper hole. She placed a hand on his arm. “You were fine. If I didn’t want you… kissing me,” she said the words out loud for the first time, reigning in a pleasurable shudder at the memory. “I would have pushed you off, and if I felt violated, which I didn’t, you would have found yourself on the ground in plenty of pain.”
Damian dragged his gaze back to hers, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “Undoubtedly, yes, you easily could have done so.”
Marinette smirked again, not willing to let the entire debacle slip away quite yet though. “Although I have to ask, where in the world did angel come from? And what on earth made you think it would be a good nickname for our fake relationship?”
Damian lifted his nose haughtily. “It is a perfectly acceptable name of affection for a significant other. What, did you wish for ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’?” he asked, drawing out those names with the earlier casual New Jersian accent. Marinette withheld a shiver at his low tone of voice curling those words around his tongue. She may prefer his normal speech, but damn he still sounded unbearably attractive when he dropped that low.
‘Focus, Marinette. FOCUS!’ she inwardly screamed at herself.
“Goodness no,” said Marinette, forcing a pretend shudder. “Something with more class perhaps? Darling, or beloved?”
Damian pursed his lips. “Not beloved. That’s what my mother refers to my father with.” Marinette winced, yeah, that could be awkward. Not that this whole conversation wasn’t a disaster plucked out of a fever dream. Why, why was she debating Damian on the finer points of affectionate nickname giving?
But her mouth continued talking. “Alright, I suppose angel isn’t bad in comparison. Still, it’s a bit cliché. What does that make you? A demon?”
Damian tilted his head with a shrug. “Tt. My brothers do call me that on occasion, yes.” Oh right, Jason called him demon-spawn a few times during their confrontation. With the way Damian rolled his eyes in annoyance, Marinette figured a story lurked behind that particular nickname.
“Regardless, we have strayed dangerously off-topic here. We should head towards the pandemonium in the atrium, yes?” Damian pushed off the wall he’d leaned against, and Marinette followed.
“I thought it was Panic at the Disco?” Marinette teased with a grin.
Damian pointed a finger at her, trying for a stern expression, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “You think yourself terribly clever, don’t you?”
“I think I’m adorable,” she shot back. “But I also think you’re right. It sounds like Tim managed to involve himself. If he’s making a scene, I bet he’ll draw the rest of your brothers there too.”
“You think Grayson will escape the clutches of that ravenous she-wolf?”
Marinette scoffed. “Damian, you’ll insult wolves with that comparison. I thought she resembled more of a hyena myself.” The woman certainly shrieked enough for it. “From what I saw, your brother probably ducked out at the first opportunity available to him.”
“True. Which leaves Todd, and nothing attracts his attention more than a spectacle. Especially when Drake stands chance to make a fool of himself.” Turning a corner they found themselves several yards away from the open-aired atrium. A crowd of people lingered around the railing looking into the courtyard below. Clapping and cheers fill the air.
“Shall we?” asked Marinette, excitement brewing in her chest.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” grumbled Damian. “But I suppose we must.”
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Season 4, Episode 9: An Extremely Chaotic and Incoherent Review
The Good:
Ah hey Daryl! What's up! I missed you!
That IS the same dude from the S1 AVT right??? Like I'm not insane, right???
I wonder how much Cobra Kai pays to be one of the extras who plays a high school karate enthusiast in the AVT audience
Looking at career options here
Aight that was a MUCH shorter "Eli in Miyagi-Do" training montage than I had hoped for, but...it's something??? I guess???
At least we get one???
The blue fog lighting MD runs through is pretty damn neat
Also wanna point out that Eli's overall theme color has gone from blue to red to purple to BACK to blue, as per joining MD
Which is, you know, pretty consistently DEMETRI'S theme color
Like I shit you not, like 90% of the things I see this fucker wearing have SOME blue in them
You count how many many blue-less outfits he wears throughout the show and I'm betting it's like...under 10
Anyways point being, he and Eli matchy-matchy again just like they did in S1
Literally would be poetic cinema to use this as a means of hinting that Eli is in love with Demetri but I GUESS they really ain't gonna utilize visual foreshadowing in what would be a truly ingenious way
THEIR LOSS
ALSO Demetri and Eli run in next to each other!!!! Look I'll dig whatever Elimetri scraps I can out of the garbage bin okay
I am but a humble feral raccoon on the lookout for my next meal, my greedy little raccoon hands primed and ready to seize my gay morsels and devour them like a decadent feast
Love how Yasmine flew all the way back from Australia to grind on Demetri for a few hours only to yeet back out of town just in time to miss a huge event that is enormously important to her boyfriend and literally all his friends
If Yasmine was really as perfect of a girlfriend as the show seems to want us to think, she would have made an effort to stay for the AVT, send tweet
Or at LEAST warned Demetri at prom that she still wouldn't be able to go to the AVT??? Despite being back in town for prom???
ALSO if she was there somewhere she'd be with Moon, considering these fine young fucking lesbian ladies are basically attached at the hip
Funny, that
On the topic of Moon, though...okay, I know she only is at the AVT so she can later heal poor Eli with a het kiss, and this does indeed feel me with a deep and unchecked rage, BUT regardless I think it's really sweet that she's presumably going to platonically support both Demetri and Eli
Also the fact that Moon has gone from going to watch karate WITH Demetri to going to watch Demetri DO karate is both hilariously ironic and super wholesome
Like the CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT
Also always love to see Demetri and Moon's friendship!!! It's so pure, I can't ;_;
Wanna point out that when Cobra Kai comes in, Demetri turns and SCOWLS at them and leans a little bit in front of Eli. Call be off my fucking rocker but it looks just a teens bit protective
I mean he's definitely giving them the evil eye either way, he's like "this is the dojo of horror and fuckery and it's an attack against me personally" and you know what? He's right
Like the amount of times Cobra Kai has caused problems for Demetri in particular over the course of the past couple years is kind of incredible
NOT EAGLE FANG TRAINING WITH FUCKING CINDERBLOCKS
I mean it's not like that wouldn't be effective for strength training but it is hysterical
ONLY Johnny Lawrence would brag about "pummeling ever-loving the crap out of people while the crowd cheered", and I love him very much for it
Kreese and Silver are very scary, 11/10
AH THERE IT IS, LAST NAME REVEAL TIME
Love that Dem's canonically Greek!!! I remember some of my fandom friends headcanoning that and I'm happy it's officially a thing now :D
DEMETRI WITH THE KATAS HOLY SHIT
THOSE HARDCORE KARATE SHOUTS
I ascended to another plane of existence upon viewing that
As per usual, I am quick to fall in love with utterly unavailable, utterly uninterested, and utterly gay men
Okay we get like a 2 second shot of the other Miyagi Dos watching and Eli looks DELIGHTED
He is SO into that shit, goddamn
Same Energy as Eli breaking the board at valley fest and Demetri just being like "oh fuck I'm gay"
Right after the skills competition, it pans over to Dem and Eli talking in the MD group--Dem's prolly tryna reassure him ;___;
"The tigher the vices around Cobra Kai's metaphorical balls" HOLY SHIT DEVON I LOVE YOU
Aight idk what Carrie's doing here, but it's funny, so I'll take it
A general observation but both Demetri and Eli look STRESSED AF watching each other fight : O
They're both so very overprotective, god bless
It's just--it's the constant anxiety each of them have that their person is gonna get even a little bit hurt is what does it in for me chief
Especially bad for Eli, considering the, uh...Golf N Stuff incident
Like this man will simply break if he ever has to see Demetri be in that much pain again
Their gay little faces when either of them wins a match, my GOD
Like the pure, unbridled JOY!!!! Love these karate boyfriends!!!
ELI CHEERING ON SAM AAAAAAAAAAAA
They've come so far from S3 and I am very happy for them ;__;
Okay that was actually a bitchin montage, and the Carrie Underwood background music went with it weirdly well
Happy to see my boys Nate and Bert get some badass moments too!!
MY BOY DEMETRI ALEXOPOULOS MADE IT TO THE QUARTERFINALS
I AM SO VERY PROUD
Also not Demetri and Eli standing so close they're practically holding hands in the quarterfinals shot
Like when are these fuckers not nearly pressed up against each other like clingy puppies, I swear
"YEEEEAHHHHHH DEMETRI" that's deadass the happiest I've seen this fucker in like 2 seasons
It's almost like Demetri's the light of his life or something
Also VERY delighted to see him combining the "Hawk" over-the-top enthusiasm with the "Eli" wholesomeness and loyalty
Say what you will about Eli switching dojos, but by god, he is starting to be happy again!!!
And Eli needs to be in an environment where he can heal and work past his demons at his own pace, which Johnny Lawrence, much as I love him, is not always the best sensei for XD
Love how Kyler shows up knowing the easiest way to try and kill Eli's spirit and make him lose focus is to threaten Demetri
Like Eli was getting pretty into the tournament and kicking ass before then, but as soon as Kyler implies he could and/or WILL fuck up Demetri??? He immediately starts worrying and falls back into the old timid, anxious Eli persona
Adds another layer to it when you realize Kyler's probably been bullying Eli and Dem for years--and for basically all of that time, Dem was the only protector Eli had. Demetri was Eli's only "safe person" for a really long time, so of course threatening him will put Eli on edge and make him feel like he's not safe.
And Kyler calling Eli "Lip" basically confirms he's trying to tap into the weak-willed, bullied kid he was before karate--which, of course, he does by reminding Eli how he used to push around him and the only person he had in his corner back then.
Anyways, all that to say Kyler knows Dem and Eli's relationship is deep and long-standing enough that threatening Dem could be enough to completely break Eli, just as Eli was starting to build himself back up again
It's incredibly fucked up!!! But also a testament to how close Demetri and Eli were back in the day, if Kyler was able to like...exploit their bond to try and destroy Eli's confidence and be that frighteningly precise and successful with it
Okay okay okay okay so as angry as I am about H*wkM**n I do find it absolutely hysterical that Moon said the exact same thing to Eli that Demetri did, but Moon got to kiss him because she's a girl, and ya know. Something something comphet.
Like, if this is "love interest" dialogue that is enough to warrant a kiss...we're basically getting confirmation that if Demetri was female, he would be Eli's love interest
The only reason the writers aren't putting Eli and Demetri together is because they're scared of offending the homophobic side of the fanbase, and in short they all belong at Weenie Hut Junior's
Maybe even Super Weenie Hut Junior's
The ultimate tragedy of conservatives who hate gay people
Demetri's little clap on the back, he's such a proud boyfriend!!!
So we went from Eli calling Demetri a "FUCKING NERD" to Eli vowing to "win this whole FUCKING thing" for Demetri and his dojo??? Now that's what I call a fucking CHARACTER ARC
CIMENNNNNAAAAA
YEAH KICK HIS ASS ELI!!!
Lol get fucked Kyler
Eli beating his ass was SO long overdue
Demetri clapping and cheering in the background when Eli wins because Demetri's SO FUCKIN PROUD and also in love
Not Piper being a catty mean bitch to Sam
Anyways Moon adores catty mean bitches and is therefore secretly in love with Yasmine, send tweet
Moon dun got a TYPE and the more of this show I watch, the more I’m like. There’s just no way she COULDN’T be into Yasmine
I MEAN IF IT’S MEAN LESBIANS YOU WANT
Anyways
HELL YEAH SAM KICK SOME ASS GIRL
Love to see her using Eagle Fang!!! Truly the chaos gremlin potential is endless and I support Sam LaRusso every step of the way
On the highest of keys I hope she ends up joining Eagle Fang actually, or whatever dojo Johnny is sensei-ing for
The irony of Daniel LaRusso's kid being in Johnny Lawrence's dojo would be too funny
Plus she could get to be with her mans!
Good on Sam for standing up for Johnny and EF again! Maybe one of these days it'll actually stick and Daniel will stop being self-righteous and vaguely irritating for two seconds
YAYA IS AN ICON
She simply cannot go to a karate tournament without getting totally fucking stoned first and I have to respect that
ROBBY AND KENNY'S FRIENDSHIP AUGH
I'M GETTING TOO MANY FEELS
They really came for my heart huh
Robby immediately feeling guilty for Kenny getting hurt ;___;
Tory checking in on Robby <3
Overall very happy we got to see a softer side of Robby AND Tory this season, it's honestly beautiful
AW, Daniel congratulating Miguel and wishing him luck <3 Love these two's relationship!!! Also gives me hope that any conflict between Sam and Miguel won't be permanent. I feel like if they had broken up or were having a serious fight, Daniel probably would pick up on it and wouldn't seek out Miguel. Like it would be kinda weird to go talk to your daughter's ex/strained bf???
Bottom line is that if Daniel still mentally views Miguel as his future son-in-law, I have a feeling that Sam and Miguel will be all right in the end lol
Miguel calling Hawk/Eli "Eli" in passing is something that can be so PERSONAL
Goes to show that Eli no longer feels the need for the "Hawk" mask with ALL his friends, not just Demetri
He's learning to embrace ALL the parts of himself and not rely on a facade to feel good about himself!!! Love that for him!!!
"I'm not exactly thrilled to be fighting my friend" NEITHER AM I ELI
COME FOR MY HEART WHY DON'T YOU AVT
Love Demetri's look of concern too
Like his two best friends are about to throw down and he's worried about either of them getting hurt
"Doesn't help that no one's ever beaten Miguel either" ah, so I see Dem's slightly more concerned about Eli getting hurt because he's in love with him. Typical XD
Also deeply ironic
Eli be like "Finally, a worthy opponent!!! Our battle will be legendary!!!"
Lol I see what you did there, with the Coyote Creek callback
I'M STILL ANXIOUS AND UPSET THOUGH
WHY MUST THE BROS FIGHT
AW, THEIR HANDSHAKE
I'M SOBBING
AUGH this Johnny-Miguel montage is making me emotional ;__;
MIGUELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
ELI MOUTHING MIGUEL'S NAME
DEMETRI LOOKING ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED
Someone help me, these three's friendship is gonna kill me
Miguel's a lucky boi, his two besties love him so very very much
BUT SO DO I PLEASE BE OKAY MIGUEL
The Bad:
Okay okay okay okay I DO appreciate the one shot we got of Eli being SUPER into Demetri's kata routine, but I want MORE dammit
Like show the man being turned on to the level Demetri was at valley fest
We all damn well KNOW he would be, c'mon
SPEAKING OF WHICH
You show Demetri holding a board and Eli punching it in half, and then have the AUDACITY to not pan over to Demetri's expression???
Please I wanted to see him be turned on as all hell
Like it would have been the most hilarious Valley Fest callback and everything!!!
How dare you deprive me of this!!!
Well at least I know in my heart that Demetri was having an even bigger gay awakening than before
Ah, yes. Just what we need. More screentime for the AVT board members -__-
SIR I AM HERE FOR KARATE FIGHTS
Okay, so like. Aside from it physically paining me every time I have to watch Daniel watch his ex karate son be an evil little traitorous meow meow, I feel like they're going a direction I very much do not like with the Daniel-Robby animosity
While Daniel does have every right to call Robby out here (and Robby has the right to call Daniel out on thinking his way is the only way), I'm worried that the show just...isn't going to let these two eventually reconcile and fix their relationship??? Like I hate that they seem to be moving in the direction of Daniel giving up on Robby and Robby being forced to just deal with his subpar biological parents -_-
And while I don't think Daniel is obligated to forgive Robby for betraying MD, I feel like it's kinda in his nature to do so??? And that's definitely what Mr. Miyagi would have taught him too
And like...the guy loves Robby, at the end of the day! I feel like no matter how mad he got, Daniel LaRusso would always come around to his surrogate karate son in the end
Honestly I'm rooting for these two to fix their relationship WAY more than Johnny and Robby. Like Johnny barely TRIES with Robby, but Daniel really did do the most to give him a better life and try to help him find himself for a while
Like yes, Daniel let Robby down in the end by not trying harder to get Robby out of Cobra Kai, BUT
At the end of the day, Daniel and Robby had an IMMENSELY healthier and more loving father-son dynamic than Johnny and Robby ever did
ANYWAYS what I'm trying to say here is that if Robby reconciles with Johnny but NOT Daniel, despite Daniel overall being an immensely better karate dad, I'm going to be very angry
I'm hoping that Daniel and Robby's spat here is just a bump in the road and they'll eventually be back on good terms, but I have a bad feeling it's just going to push them further apart so Robby is ultimately forced to run back to Johnny
Anyways please don't give me painful Daniel and Robby scenes unless they're going to eventually lead to happy Daniel and Robby scenes ;__;
Oh no oh god oh fuck now you've gone and done it
You've made me rant about the absolute garbagefire that is H*wkM**n and now chances are you won't be able to shut me up for at least a few weeks
Okay so for STARTERS
You've heard it before I'm sure but Moon is LITERALLY NOT SAYING ANYTHING THAT DEMETRI HASN'T ALREADY SAID
LIKE
"I know you think that mohawk defined who you are, but it didn't. Not to me." = "You're not defined by your haircut, you know"
"I liked your energy! And your confidence!" = "YOU'RE BATMAN! YOU'RE THE HAWK!"
Something something gotta help the poor bird get his confidence back
Something something "this is who you are!"
We're literally doing THE SAME THING OVER AGAIN
And oh, what, now it's supposed to be all heartwarming that she's calling him Eli??? Demetri was calling him Eli the ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME
Like her not using a nickname somehow magically makes this NOT the most shallow relationship in the entire world
These fuckers have literally nothing in common, sorry??? Like she's into flowers and spiritual stuff and Eli's into geeky sci-fi, movies, and karate??? I have not seen ONE bit of common ground between them the ENTIRE show
Sorry but the "Opposites Attract" thing only works insofar as "opposites" means CONTRAST--interesting (and successful) relationships have two people who balance each other out in certain respects, but also establish a deep connection centered around common interests and values
You know, like ELI AND DEMETRI, FOR FUCKING INSTANCE???
And like. H*wkM**n even falls apart at the "common values" level because like. Moon is an extreme pacifist. Eli absolutely fucking adores fighting. How how HOW are they not going to get aggravated with each other over the long term???
And before you say "but Demetri doesn't like fighting either!" NOPE! Not true anymore, actually! He said he was really excited for the AVT, which indicates to me he's actually grown to like fighting and karate quite a bit!
Also ffs, "I liked you for your energy and your confidence" basically confirms that Moon was specifically attracted to the overdramatic, macho facade that Eli put on as "Hawk" which is like
NOT the whole picture at ALL
Like yes, some of "Hawk" was Eli's genuine personality shining through as he gained more confidence
But a lot of it was him acting how he felt he had to to protect himself from bullies and trying to mimic people who seemed cooler, more badass, and more "together" than him (mainly Johnny and Miguel)
We've never gotten ANY indication that Moon would be into Eli's nerdier and substantially less "cool" side
Other than her laughing at "dEmEtRi aNd ElI, bInArY bRoThErS!" I guess
And judging from Eli's reaction, that is NOT a side of his personality he usually let her see
Point being that throughout a lot of Eli and Moon's relationship, Eli was putting on a pretty heavy facade--doesn't really make sense to rekindle a relationship that was only maintained through Eli being an inauthentic version of herself
And these two barely fucking interacted all season, aside from Moon complimenting Eli's hair once. We seriously have no evidence at all that she was romantically interested in the more authentic, laid-back purple-haired Hawk, and not just like...projecting cocky, macho S1-S2 Hawk onto him. Since, y'know, that not-entirely-genuine Hawk/Eli is the one she was interested in. And now, she's ever so conveniently interested in this new version of Eli after, uhhhh...talking to him a couple times and taking pity on him after he's sad at the tournament, I guess???
ALSO I want to point out that Moon has shown absolutely NO romantic interest in Eli since they broke up, like
Literally when does she EVER indicate she has lingering feelings, or might be interested in rekindling the relationship??? She's actively annoyed with him in S3, and in S4 she doesn't really treat Eli any differently than Demetri or Miguel
And no, complimenting his hair does not fucking count as showing romantic interest, she was literally just being polite???
It read like a completely platonic interaction to me--as I've mentioned before, I think any awkwardness is easily chocked up to them being exes and, as Hawk outright said, they're "just getting used to being friends again"
Emphasizing that since S2, she has not treated Hawk any different than Demetri and Miguel
Except in S3 when, you know. She actively disliked him.
Also she completely fucking ignored him at the prom to hang out with Demetri and Yasmine, just throwing that out there
Like he was standing sadly off to the side and Moon didn't even NOTICE
Because, you know, she was busy dancing with women and sneaking glances at Yas
Like if you're into someone, you'd be MUCH more aware of them than that
And try to include them maybe???
Point being that all the evidence that we have so far points to Moon having long since moved on
Like yes, she's willing to forgive Eli and rekindle a friendship--she's a kind and friendly person, and it's in her nature to want harmony. But wanting to DATE Eli again???
WHEN THE HELL has Moon been shown to want this???
And like...if she didn't even notice him sadly standing off in the corner at prom, how in the hell are we expected to believe she's going to be attentive to him and his emotions???
Like she didn't even show concern as his FRIEND at the prom
Meanwhile, y'know. Demetri WENT WITH HIM to keep him company, and at least apologized kind of for running off with Yasmine
And now we're supposed to believe Moon suddenly likes him again and they're soulmates because like...she complimented his hair once and cheered for him at the tournament???
As if Demetri DIDN'T smile and cheer and clap in the background every time Eli won a match, smh
Anyways I literally felt nauseous when they kissed
Moon has been in like...three scenes this season, and in two of them she showed immensely more romantic interest in fucking YASMINE than Eli
And no, this isn't shipping goggles, like...rewatch the scenes, her focus is MUCH more on Yas than Eli
I guess you could interpret it as her being into Demetri, but like...if that were the case, I'm pretty sure she would have made a move in S3 before he got with Yasmine
And she's been being on-and-off sapphic with Yasmine since S1 so like
Anyways bottom line is that H*wkM**n is just
GOD
How did they make it EVEN MORE of a dumpsterfire than it already was???
Worst ship in the show, hands down
Eli's been getting propped back up by Demetri since the basement scene, but you wanna tell me a straight kiss got him his fighting spirit back????!
Okay I guess technically Hawk x Moon is bi4bi
But it's bi4bi (derogatory)
Unlike Tory x Robby, which is bi4bi (affectionate)
See Hawk and Moon are a great example of why two people shouldn't necessarily date just because they're both in the LGBT community
HATE how Moon is Eli's redemption prize
Hate that hate that hate that hate that
Literally my worst fear for this season and OOP
Cobra Kai come back when you figure out how to write Yasmine and Moon please
And make them kiss while you're at it
Anyways Eli shouldn't magically get the girl just because he's resolved to be a better person, send tweet
Women--and I cannot stress this enough--ARE NOT REWARDS
Moon deserved better 2k22
Okay if I don't stop talking about this now I'm never going to so ANYWAYS
Was it just me or was the Eli-Kyler fight like...super anticlimactic???
Like this has been building up since SEASON 1 and Eli just...landed some fairly easy hits on Kyler and won???
Not to be a sadist on main or anything but I was hoping for a MUCH more brutal beatdown
Maybe not BRUCKS-level brutal but like
More cathartic than SMACK SMACK SMACK okay we're donezo
Like yes I love seeing Kyler get his ass handed to him but I want him to SUFFER more goddamn it
Lord knows all that he's put Eli through, even BEFORE the show
Anyways Kyler should get his ass much more severely kicked
Manifesting for S5
Demetri wya, you and Eli gotta pummel the crap out of this dude Johnny Lawrence style
ALSO LIKE
Why tf are Robby and Kenny fighting???
Yes yes I know it's For The Drama
But it makes no logistical sense
If the way to pick out a "winning" dojo is whoever scores the most points
Then CK is gonna get the same amount of points either way???
IDK I don't get it, they literally just did it because the plot demanded it
But it's impossible to take seriously because conceptually it seems like it would screw the whole dojo-rating system
DANIEL AND JOHNNY IMMA KILL BOTH Y'ALL
HAVE YOU REALLY NOT FIGURED OUT BY NOW THAT BOTH YOUR KARATE STYLES HAVE VALUE
Also like...their styles are actively helping both of their kids/adopted kids so why even are they being so pissy and annoying?? Like for fuck's SAKE
Also Johnny and Daniel Stop Being Controlling Challenge 2022, like...Sam and Miguel can make their own decisions and use whichever styles they want to use actually
This show really ain't never gonna let Daniel and Johnny be friends huh
Like it just keeps pulling reasons for them to be mad at each other out of its ass and I'm starting to be very irked about it
"Take his ass out" BRUH
Like don't get me wrong, Johnny Lawrence is an insensitive ass, but this seems a little much EVEN for him
Bruh this child just got super traumatized super recently and you telling your student to wail on him just because he joined your childhood karate rival's dojo???
CHILL
Okay look I know I said it was funny that Daniel and Johnny would never not be petty manchildren obsessed with their rivalry
But now I kinda wanna smack both of them
Also listen, Demetri looking absolutely horrified when Miguel's back acts up is excellent, but I want him to run to his buddy!!! Please!!!
Oh god oh fuck oh no one more episode of the Stupid Karate Show to review and then I gotta make a huge monster masterpost about how S5 should go
#hawk x demetri#demetri x eli#binary boyfriends#hawkmeat#elimetri#eli x demetri#demetri x hawk#demetri alexopoulos#demetri cobra kai#eli moskowitz#hawk#johnny lawrence#daniel larusso#miguel diaz#sam larusso#samantha larusso#moon cobra kai#yasmine cobra kai#yasmoon#robby keene#tory nichols#kenny payne#devon cobra kai#nate cobra kai#bert cobra kai#kyler park#anti hawkmoon#anti-hawkmoon#cobra kai#cobra kai season 4
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possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.
earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students
----
Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.
Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.
Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.
Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.
"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"
Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.
That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.
The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"
Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.
Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.
No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.
Or if Newt left the door unlocked.
More footsteps. Closer now.
Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)
Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?
Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.
The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—
Oh, fuck.
The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.
Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.
It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.
Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.
Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.
"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"
"Hold that thought," Newt says.
He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.
Hermann is still yelling at him.
"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"
Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.
Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"
"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."
Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."
"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"
"Well, obviously," Hermann says.
Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?
Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.
"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"
Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."
Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.
Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.
But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."
"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"
"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."
For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"
"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.
From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.
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You’ve Got a Fast Car...
I’m back, bitches~~ But seriously, felt great to write again for the @rtwritingcommunity‘s secret sunshine event! I will tag my recipient if/when I get their a-ok!
Summary: (FAHC) Michael doesn't expect a man to throw himself in front of his car and beg him to stop. This is Los Santos. Picking up hitchhikers is generally frowned upon. But this man has a pretty face and hell - he's got a fast car. What's he got to lose?
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32969470
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Michael knew something was seriously wrong when a man throws himself out in front of his car.
Now, his car was nothing nice, but he still doesn't want to spend the next few hours getting some fucking asshole's blood off of his front bumper. So naturally he slams on the brakes as the man - a skinny, dirty thing with wild hair - does a legitimate fucking slide across the hood of his shit Honda Civic and nearly collapses on the other side. "Oi!"
"Get out of the damn road, idiot!" Michael yells out the window in a reply, flicking him off to boot. It was late, almost 2am at this point, and he really had anything better to do than scream at some (probably high) dickbag who decided to do calisthenics in the goddamn street. But the man doesn't run away ashamed, as Michael had expected. Instead, he frantically pokes at his phone - still in the middle of the street - and Michael sits there, a bit flabbergasted.
He doesn't move.
He still doesn't move when Michael lays his entire weight on the horn, sending a blast of sound into the Los Santos night. It's not as loud or annoying as he may have wanted - LS is always loud as fuck on a Saturday evening - but it does have the intended effect of nearly making the idiot in front of his car in the middle of the street jump half out of his skin.
"SHHH!" the man gasps, comically putting his finger over his lip like he was in a cartoon and making an over-exaggerated shushing motion. Michael has to blink. He's shushing him? While standing in front of his car?
Before he can say anything or shake off the disbelief that this shit had to happen to him tonight - he had to get home and clean off before his next shift at the pizza place he had reluctantly taken a job at - the man (still crazy-eyed and wild-haired) runs up to his window.
At this moment, Michael really wishes he had invested in a knife, or a Tazer, or something. People had warned him about LS, but he didn't listen. He should probably learn to do that, someday.
"Listen, man," the guy says (see?) and leans forward, a massive grin on his face. He has some pretty high cheekbones. Michael blinks. "Dude, can you please just move or I'm gonna run you the fuck down."
"No, no, no, listen," the man says again, waving his hands about. "Do me a favor, will ya? If you drive me to this address -" he holds his phone up and shows an address on the outskirts of the city - "I'll give you $1,000. Right here, right now, no questions."
Michael blinks and then snorts. Yeah fucking right. "I'm not an Uber."
The man shifts on both his feet, looking agitated, and glances over his shoulder. There sounds like there's some sort of commotion coming down the street and he really has to move. So Michael leans on the horn again, blasting another honk into the LS skyline.
This has the unintended effect of making the man lean further over the hood of his car, as if he could hide. Remember. This was in the middle of the goddamn street.
"Dude!"
"I'm not kidding!" the wild-eyed man says frantically. "$1500. Deposited directly into your account. I'm serious, kill me and my crew if I lie."
That was no turn of phrase Michael had ever heard, but the money does make him pause. He's... short on funds right now. Well, he's always short on funds, but this time moreso than usual. $1,500 extra would be a huge boost to the amount he currently has in the bank. He'd pay rent. He wouldn't have to borrow any more from anyone else and avoid that loan shark fucker he found online.
Before he could really think about what he was saying, he finds himself tapping the passenger seat. "Fine. Get in. I swear to god, I better see that money."
And if he dies... well. Then he still wouldn't have to worry about rent, so win-win in his mind.
With a triumphant holler, the man leaps into the car and yanks up a GPS on his phone, pointing them to drive down the street. "Thanks man! I'm Gavin."
-
They're not going more than five minutes when sirens start blaring behind them. The man tenses and looks backwards out the window with a frown. "Oh shit."
Michael immediately - immediately - realizes just how much he fucked up. "What do you mean, oh shit?"
"I - uh..." The unhinged man - Gavin - stutters. "Did... Did I mention that uh... the LSPD may want to arrest me?"
"May want to what?!" Michael's voice climbs so many octaves in that last word that it makes Gavin slump down in his seat, suitably chagrined. "I ... seriously, man, I - I needed a car, a way out, I promise I'll give you the money, just please for the love of god, drive the damn car."
"Pull Over," the cop car unhelpfully calls from behind them, making Michael's bowels turn to water. Gavin's even more frantically slamming keys on his phone as they approach a major intersection. Michael keeps looking behind him, unable to slow down as the cops continue to chase them. "Gavin, seriously..."
"You're with me now, man," he replies a bit frantically. "You're in it. So either we avoid them, or you're going to jail too. Sorry."
The words fall like bricks on Michael's shoulders as he realizes that what Gavin just said was true. No cop in their right mind would believe that he - a man with a few blotches on his permanent record already - would have just accepted to pick up a hitchhiker and drive him across town at 2am for $1,500 without assuming he was a criminal. No. Any sane cop would assume he was in on it.
Because the alternative was that he was a fucking lunatic, but here we are.
Gritting his teeth, a conscious shift happens somewhere in his gut. He's a survivor. He'd get the fuck out of this, one way or the other. So, without Gavin's input and in a split second decision, he takes a sharp left and rips around the corner, sending Gavin flying against the door with a shout of surprise. "HEY!"
"Gotta avoid the cops, don't we?" Michael says with a maniacal burst of laughter, the insanity that can only be best described as hysteria. "You're the navigator, idiot, get us to where we need to be!"
The nervousness - which had appeared on Gavin's face after Michael had blown up at him - evaporated as Gavin bursts into a big smile. "Hell yeah," he hums. "Let's do this."
-
After fifteen minutes, Michael had lost all his nerves. Instead, he felt like an overinflated balloon, filled with a giddy sort of lunacy that he had never felt before as they flew down abandoned Los Santos streets. He shrieked with laughter as they slipped down the runway illuminated by neon lights and flashing red and blues, which whipped around them like a rave of their own design.
The freedom was intoxicating. Michael had taken drugs before back in New Jersey, who hadn't(?), but this was a whole different sort of high. And as soon as Gavin realized that Michael was in it with him, he had turned into an erratic demon of death, urging Michael onward with the same fire that was reflected in Michael's soul.
They flew down the streets like hedonists, shrieking with laughter and happiness as Gavin shoves his head out the sunroof to flick off the cops and shout insults.
When the first gunshot cracks through the night, Michael is sobered only for a moment. In for a penny, in for a pound. He's already here, dodging the cops, so this shit may as well happen. It's like he's in a godforsaken video game but he's not. This is real life, this is his life, and maybe he's ruining it. Maybe. But what had he not ruined in his life already? For a few moments, he could feel like he was disconnected from reality, driving so fast he could swear he could fly, a - undeniably pretty - man urging him to new, foolish lengths from the seat next to them.
And so they flew. As they approached intersections and traffic lights, Michael could see - more like sense - Gavin's own particular talents. He admits he has no abilities behind the wheel, hence begging Michael to help him, but he's able to make every traffic light change from here to the safehouse, giggling like a school kid all the while, knowing he was being naughty but that just sends them into a more frenzied set of hysterics.
It tastes like the best drug, the most collective high, the freedom that comes from knowing you're one step away from death or worse but that dangle is intoxicating. Maybe ten minutes ago he hated what was happening, but all that was gone now.
It's just the car, him, and Gavin's frantic - musical - laugh.
-
Eventually - with Gavin's GPS and eventually warm hand over his - they lose the cops. Michael has no sense of time, no concept of how long they were on the roads causing havoc, fleeing and laughing and shrieking like demons.
All he knows is that he's out in the North now and the beginning shards of sun were peeking over the horizon. He's able to slow to a manageable speed and catch his breath.
Gavin's phone rings and the man answers it. Michael can't hear what he's saying past the ringing in his ears, the result of wind whipping past his face and hours of excitement. His face is red when he meets Gavin's eyes. He closes the phone and the excitement shines bright in his eyes.
For a moment, Michael's breath is taken away. Then Gavin just points. "Top of Chilliad. Get me there." His voice is hoarse from yelling, deeper than it was, and it stirs something that Michael can't explain.
"Yes, sir," he hums teasingly. In for a penny, in for a pound, like he had said before. They start the climb up the dirt road. Once or twice, Michael doesn't think his car can make it, but the tenacious Civic crawls forward as if it knows what it had done too and felt on top of the world.
They make it to the top as the sun finally breaks over the horizon completely, blanketing the world in orange and red. When Michael finally - finally- throws the car in park and looks over at him, Gavin's grinning the biggest grin Michael has ever seen.
Before he can do anything, fuelled by adrenaline and fire and the same pure joy on Gavin's face, Michael leans over and kisses him deeply, half dragging him over the stick shift.
They kiss feverishly for a few moments, the adrenaline fading, before breaking apart and chuckling sheepishly. "I - sorry, I ..."
Gavin just winks. It's knowing. "No problem, luv," he purrs. "Does it to you, doesn't it? The chase? Makes the fire in your blood run hot." He leans forward conspiratorially. "Men weren't made to walk on their knees," he hums. "Think about it."
He digs in his pocket and drops a card on the passenger seat before climbing out of the door, even as Michael tries to grab his arm and yank him back. "Gav--"
"Later, beautiful," Gavin grins, seemingly more suave and sophisticated than the man he was when he first climbed into the car. Like he was grifting and Michael was his poor, unsuspecting mark. "I'll call you. You're a great driver. Check your account." He salutes and it's then when Michael can hear the thud-thud of roters. A helicopter?
Before he can say anything, climbing frantically out of the car to watch, Gavin grabs a rope ladder hanging off the bottom of a fucking cargobob and is lifted into the air, disappearing quickly out of sight like something out of a fairy tale.
And Michael is left in the remains of the sun-drenched LS morning, with a car almost empty of gas and mysteriously $1,500 richer.
Whatever had happened to him that night in Los Santos, he knows his life will never, ever be the same.
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Kiss Me More
Mark Tuan X Reader
Word count: 6.1K
Genre: Very fluffy smut
Warning: Some sexy time in there nothing too extreme (hehehe...or is there?)
Summary: You were confident in the fact that your sex life with Mark was very exciting, wild and fun to say the least. In more or less words, it was perfect. Just your relationship in general was the kind that many people around you would be the envy of. It’s been four years since you began dating and you could honestly say it has been the best four years of your life so far because of him. He was the best boyfriend you could possibly ask for; kind, funny, gentle, considerate, soft-spoken, generous and extremely handsome. He took really good care of you and it was obvious by both his actions and his words that he was madly in love with you. As the two of you are coming down from your sex highs, you grow curious as to why once your love making sessions were over, so is the intimacy. Surely, your boyfriend has his reasons for not kissing you for too much longer as you’re about to go to bed. Right?
A/N: Based on the song “Kiss Me More” by Doja Cat and Sza. I am obsessed with this song and I knew I had to write something based on it so I hope you all enjoy! (I don’t really care for how the ending turned out but whatever).
We hug and yes, we make love
And always just say "Goodnight" (la-la-la-la-la)
And we cuddle, sure I do love it
But I need your lips on mine
Can you kiss me more?
We're so young, boy
We ain't got nothin' to lose, oh, oh
It's just principle
Baby, hold me
'Cause I like the way you groove, oh, oh
Boy, you write your name, I can do the same
Ooh, I love the taste, la-la-la-la
All on my tongue, I want it (la-la-la-la)
Boy, you write your name, I can do the same
Ooh, I love the taste, la-la-la-la-la
All on my tongue, I want it
“Ah—shit, shit—baby, I’m going to need you to slow down. Please—we have the whole night, I just—y/n—fuck. You’re so fucking sexy—“ Against your boyfriend’s pleas, you only sped up your pace to rile him more than he already was.
“The whole night? We’ve been at this for three hours baby. I think I’m gonna tap out here soon. Aren’t you tired?”
The devilish grin that immediately rose on his face at your confession confirmed that no—he was not tired or if he was, he still had enough energy to keep pumping in to you. You were currently bouncing on his cock; sinking up and down on him like it was your life duty to do so.
Your walls were clenched around him deliciously; his hardened length filled you up to the hilt with every thrust. The tip grazed along your nub; flicking it with every pump and it was quickly driving you to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you didn’t think you’d find yourself in this position tonight.
The two of you were exhausted beyond belief; you were at school since six in the morning up until four in the afternoon earlier today. You had finished two midterms and one very important exam you’ve been studying almost an entire month for. Tired wasn’t even a good enough word to describe your current state.
Your boyfriend was just as much in bad shape as you were. His boss had him doing multiple errands today on top of completing his own assigned work. He only arrived home a little over an hour ago. When you heard the front door of your shared apartment gently open, you had to prevent yourself from running towards him and embracing him with all the power you had in your tiny body.
You were confident that he was probably worn out and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. From previous experiences, sometimes your boyfriend would go straight to bed upon arrival—being too fatigued to care about eating or taking a shower even.
Although you were just as tired and in more or less words; overworked to the bone, seeing your boyfriend slumped while his dark circles grew more and more prominent every day, you mustered up enough energy to iron his clothes for the next day, prepare the clothes he’d wear to sleep, pack him a lunch and even get some of his toiletries ready if he felt like wanting to rinse off just a bit.
To your surprise, as soon as he made his way towards you—before you could even open your mouth to ask your boyfriend how his day was, his pretty, heart-shaped lips that you loved so much were fervently smashed against yours. He gave you no time in preparing yourself for what was to come next before he roughly grabbed you at your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist.
His mouth never left yours as he led the two of you to your shared bedroom. It boggled your mind that he was giving you his full attention; gnawing and sucking on your lips while he carried you to the room without bumping in to anything or tripping on the rug. Maybe he’s gotten used to doing so since the two of you have been in this exact same scenario more times than you can count on both hands.
There were so many thoughts running through your mind and questions on the tip of your tongue—concerning the sudden affection and lust he was currently showing you, but whatever you wanted to ask him no longer mattered the second he shoved his tongue down your throat and squeezed both your ass cheeks before slapping them hard.
“Mark—babe is everything okay—“
“Work was shit—complete and utter shit. I missed you so fucking much like I do every single day I’m at that shithole and so I logged on to Snapchat and to my surprise—and delight, my beautiful girlfriend sent me a few snaps of her pretty outfit today. Don’t play innocent baby, you knew exactly what you were doing as soon as you hit send. You are well aware of the fact that I was seconds away from calling in sick this morning and fucking you in to oblivion right against the kitchen counter when you walked out in to the living room. Ah—there was so many things I wanted to say. Don’t get me wrong, you look breathtakingly beautiful in every single thing that you wear, but my dress shirt and that pencil skirt that hugs you in all the right places and leaves little to the imagination? Tsk tsk—it’s like you wanted me to rearrange your guts tonight.”
You looked at him in curiosity; it took you a few moments to pin point exactly what photos he was referring to. Since you were so busy today, you completely forgot about sneaking to the bathroom and taking a few pictures of yourself. This last week has been extremely busy for both you and your boyfriend—and so the thought of being intimate with him felt like a fever dream.
Sex with Mark had to be one of your favorite activities not only as a couple, but just in general. One thing about the older boy that you admired was the fact that he was very talented in each and every single thing he put his mind in to. Baseball, volleyball, football, golf, tennis, soccer, martial arts—it wasn’t even only sports.
Mark was exceptionally intelligent; he was one of the only people you knew that was good at both reading and math. He also could finish a Rubik’s cube in under two minutes which was quite the impossible task. Every single thing your boyfriend did never failed to impress you. However, you felt as though he was the best at blowing your mind in more ways than one.
The older boy was extremely generous; he always bought you cute little gifts that reminded him of you, he’d pay for every single date against your pleas no matter where the two of you would go, he’d sacrifice his time and work his schedule around yours so he could pick you up and drop you off wherever you needed to go. When it came to the bedroom, he always put you and your needs first. Mark always made it his main priority to make sure you came first, that you were genuinely having a good time and overall he wanted to do whatever he possibly could to make you comfortable.
Some days, he’d be so focused on eating you out that he found pleasure and got his full strictly by sucking on your pussy. If you were having a rough day, he’d prepare you a bath and get you all your favorite snacks in attempts of cheering you up but not before finding his place in between your thighs and dragging his tongue along your slit faster than you could actually handle. Mark was the king of overstimulation; one of his kinks was driving you crazy and not giving you a chance to do anything about it.
He was extremely good at sex— and his body was handcrafted by God. Every single thing about him was annoyingly perfect; he wasn’t the most muscular man but he wasn’t exactly skinny either. He had just the right amount of muscle, a six pack and he was well endowed. Although you considered penises very unattractive before you met Mark, something about his was so pretty and it always made your mouth water.
You weren’t sure if you preferred having it buried deep inside of your cunt, or filling up your throat—both felt so phenomenal. Out of all the positions you and Mark experimented in during your four year relationship, your favorites had to be doggy, missionary and the one you were currently in right now. In most of your love making sessions, Mark took the lead and dominated you—not that you ever objected.
A dominant Mark—degrading, rough, animalistic was the sexiest Mark—well, next to jealous and overprotective which usually led to the passionate and extremely freaky sex the two of you’d have. But there were times where you would take control because Mark was the definition of a switch; and something about him submitting to you and whatever you told him to always sent your mind in a frenzy.
Mark was very vocal about how he came faster whenever you would find yourself riding him specifically because watching your breasts bounce, getting to see your gorgeous face and observing your pussy swallow his cock whole—your juices coating his entire length, the sensation was lethal. His hands gripped on your waist all but gently; you might have been the one on top but your boyfriend was a powerbottom. He never allowed you to do things on your own, especially during sex.
“Nope. I’m like the energizer bunny whenever we make love. In fact, I could probably fuck you for a solid four more hours. I know sex isn’t everything in a relationship and there are so many other things I love to do with you—but damn, you’re a fucking dream y/n. We have sex almost every single day and it always feels like the first time. If you’re exhausted baby, you can get off. As much as I particularly enjoy and get off on the feeling of your ass clapping against my balls, I’m sure it’s pretty tiring.”
You had to stifle back a laugh at his choice of words; when the two of you first became intimate with one another, there was a lot of laughter and playful banter in the duration of your sexy time to which you didn’t think was normal. Then again, your relationship with Mark was never normal from the start. Your relationship was the envy of a lot of the people around you.
It’s been over four years yet somehow—maybe it was the deep, passionate love you held for one another, but you were still surprisingly in the honeymoon stage. Neither you or Mark could get enough of each other. Sometimes, whenever the two of you would tumble in to bed together, some jokes, corny pickup lines and even riddles would be thrown in while Mark would be railing you and on some occasions, he’d say things at the wrong time, but you still had so much fun nonetheless.
“I’m not too tired, I just don’t want to be immobile for the next week. My thighs are jelly and I have work in the morning. I’ve called out three times already in the last month because you fulfill your promises of wrecking me and I’m sure my boss is aware of the fact that it’s not possible for me to get food poisoning that many times within days of each other—“
“I mean, I have no regrets honestly and if I remember correctly, you’re always the one telling me to “go faster” and to “fuck me harder daddy”—ow! What? I’m just stating the facts—“
“I know, but it sounds weird when you say it.”
He playfully rolled his eyes before stealing a sloppy kiss from the corner of your mouth and motioned for you to get off of him. As much as you were reveling in his many wanton noises and lustful facial expressions, you could feel your legs giving out and you were in no position to be calling out sick again. At least not for another week or two. You let out a whine at the feeling of him slowly pulling out of you; you weren’t ashamed to say you were a huge fan of how it felt to be full of your boyfriend’s cock.
Cock warming was another favorite kink of yours. Mark on the other hand, would have to mentally prepare a few minutes prior to staying inside of you. It was hard for him to stay idle—he’s told you this many times. As much as he wanted to do whatever you asked of him and wanted to please you no matter what it was you desired, the feeling of your tight, wet and warm walls clenching around him was too much. He allowed it to happen, but not for too long. He could be the one to tap out, but a couple minutes of cockwarming could lead to another round of sex and in many cases; it did.
“What a baby, can’t even go a couple of seconds without my dick inside of her—“
“Shut up, I can go in to the bathroom and finish myself off if I wanted to—“
“We all know your fingers aren’t enough to get you seeing stars princess. And that stupid dildo you bought when I was away in Taiwan last year can’t do shit for you either.”
Thankfully, he didn’t take too long in throwing you against the bed and lining himself back at your entrance. You were seeping of your essence at this point and he swiped himself along your folds so that it would be easier for him to slip back inside. He brought his face up to your ear and his breath was hot against your jaw as he leaned in to whisper naughty words that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure.
“Only I can bring you to sheer ecstasy. Only I can get you to see white—only I can get your head spinning. My fingers; we both know how much my fingers are one of your favorite body parts of mine.” He wrapped one hand around your neck gently, making sure to glide his thumb along your pressure point while swiping some of your juices with his index finger and bringing it up to your mouth.
“Taste yourself baby. I want you to experience the euphoria I go through whenever I eat out this pretty cunt of yours. Well—back to what I was saying, my tongue, I know exactly how to use it as we make out, when I suck on this pretty little neck of yours or when I suck the life out of your pussy—so even if you were to finger yourself like the dirty girl you are, you’ll never reach the mind blowing orgasm only I can give to you. Now, I think it’s time I teach you a lesson for speaking out against me.”
You bit your lip in anticipation for the excitement that was to come; whenever Mark would get jealous or whenever you were bratty and went against whatever he commanded you to do, that’s when he would fuck your brains out. How the two of you were still going at it with such a rapid and forceful pace had yet to really process completely in your mind, but you didn’t question it. A muttered groan fell from both your lips and his as soon as he found his place back inside of you.
Immediately, he placed his face in the crook of your neck for what you were accustomed to him trying his best not to moan loudly. He dragged his teeth along the juncture of your nape before sinking his teeth in and leaving a dark love bite in its wake.
“Mark!”
You swatted his arm once you felt the spot begin to throb. Sure, you found it extremely sexy whenever he’d mark his territory because it proved just how possessive and overprotective he was over you but at the same time, hickeys were difficult to cover up and you were confident the purple mark would be on display for your professors, classmates, coworkers, boss and clients to see.
“Sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself—I’ll help you put some makeup on it tomorrow. It’s just that—ugh, how the fuck are you always so damn tight? We have sex on a daily basis, you should be stretched out by now.”
“You men obviously don’t understand the anatomy of a woman. You’re lucky you’re attractive and very sweet, you’re lacking intelligence—“
“Hey—“
“Just fuck me already asshole.”
You didn’t have to ask him twice. He went straight in to ramming his cock in and out of you. There was no time to be soft or gentle; the two of you were just moments away from your releases. You preferred the softness and romanticism that came with making love, but right now all you could think about was how amazing it felt when the tip of his cock reached your cervix.
“Feels—“
“So fucking good.”
Your breasts were bouncing up and down with every thrust and to your delight, your boyfriend cupped one of your mounds in his hand; flicking your nipple all but gently and earning himself the sexiest growl he’s ever heard in his life. He wrapped his lips around your other breast and swirled his tongue around your nipple—bringing the nub in between his teeth and nibbling on it.
“Such pretty titties—so soft, so big—your body belongs in an art museum. You’re a masterpiece. Everything about you—I can’t even wrap my head around your beauty. You’re really a sight for sore eyes you know that?”
Slowly, you shaking my brought your palm up to his face and cupped his cheek feather lightly. You brought your free hand in to his hair and softly tugged at his curly, brown locks.
“I—I love you Mark—“
“Mmm—I love you more baby girl. So much more. Every time you say those three words, I feel like a little kid who’s crush complimented his outfit. You do wonders on my heart. What did I do to deserve you?”
Out of no where, he lifted up one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder. This position allowed him to reach deeper inside of you which you didn’t even know there was more of you for him to reach.
“Shit—shit, just like that Mark—“
“You like that baby?”
You nodded in agreement fervently; he needed to know the effect that this position was having on you. Something about having him on top of you, even if missionary was a position that most people considered boring and ordinary—you felt like you were going to burst in to flames at any moment. The sound of his pelvis clapping against your ass cheeks sounded off throughout the room. It only heightened the sexual desire that already filled up the atmosphere. His grip on your lower waist tightened as the two of you grew closer and closer to your ends.
“So tight—so wet—so perfect and all mine.”
He brought your other leg up on to his shoulder and you could fill your orgasm right at the edge. A loud moan fell from his lips and he tried to conceal it by smashing his mouth against yours, but you only felt the vibration on your tongue as he hummed in contentment.
“Mark—I can’t—it’s too much—“
“I know baby, I know. I’m almost there too. Can you hold on for just a little longer?”
With all the energy you could muster, you nodded against his chest and allowed him to reconnect your lips together; his speed was relentless and with the way the bed was creaking, you knew that there was a huge chance it would break soon and you would get yet another noise complaint. Probably the seventh one in the last month. You were secretly hoping that he was closer than you were and that he was only holding on as long as possible so you both could continue your late night romp.
Your boyfriend was a nymphomaniac; sex might not have been the most important part of your relationship, but after a long, stressful day at work, he found relief in releasing his anger and frustration on your body. Making love was even better—but it didn’t matter how the two of you were intimate, just having your skin against his and your tongue battling for dominance with his, the sensation never failed to turn his sour mood in to a much happier and lighter one.
He was happiest being one with you. Just by the way he let go of your hips to intertwine your hands together, you were confident that he was about to cum. Whenever he was at his end, he’d stop whatever he was doing to hold your hands and leaned back so that he could get a better look at you. Seeing your fucked out state; sweat dripping down your neck and chest, cheeks flushed with warmth, hair sticking to your forehead, mouth gasping for air—knowing that he was the cause behind your beautiful glow, it brought him confidence and glee.
Soon, you were being filled with his warm creamy liquid in spurts—the sensation of being full of his sperm was one that you still haven’t gotten used to. It was just that mind blowing. Your orgasm followed in suit just seconds after. It felt like a tidal wave swallowing you whole, you were drowning but in the best way. It was hard to describe; but it was a high you never wanted to come down from. You were speechless; there were no words to describe just how on top of the world you were currently feeling.
Mark called it a sex high. Whenever you and your boyfriend would find yourselves tangled in the sheets, you felt like you were in another world. Maybe it was just a high off of Mark himself. He was hot; there was no doubt about it and honestly you could stare at him all day if time permitted you to. For a couple of minutes, there was a peaceful silence.
All you wanted to do was calm your rapid heartbeat and to get your breathing under control. Mark’s heart pounded against your chest and his dick that was once hard as a rock was now soft and limp inside of your cavern—neither of you moved; he was pressed up against your breasts and his head was smashed up along your collarbone. Your mind was too hazy to really feel the stickiness of his sweaty body, but if this were under different circumstances you probably would’ve pushed him off.
Less than five minutes later, Mark leaned back enough so that he had a better view to look at you. He gently brushed back some of your hair and glided his thumb along your cheek—bringing it down to your bottom lip. The soft smile he was giving you as you placed a kiss amongst the calloused digit sent electricity through your veins. In times like these; where you were bare, not just physically but spiritually and mentally and in the comfort of your boyfriends arms, you always felt so safe—so at ease, so serene, so loved.
You might have just did something so naughty, yet you couldn’t help but blush timidly. No matter how many times the two of you relished in your love for one another, you always felt so shy with his wandering eyes gazing all along your body. Even if he’s seen you naked at least a hundred times, you still found yourself turning red under his stare.
A few sweet kisses were placed against your mouth as what you assumed was a distraction because as he began to nibble on your bottom lip, he slowly pulled himself out from your slick walls. The two of you groaned at the feeling of emptiness; you gave him a glare—upset that he pulled out so soon especially since you told him earlier that you were in the mood for cockwarming.
“Mark—“
“I know, I’m sorry baby. I just want to clean you up and get us ready for bed. I think your pussy puts me to sleep a lot more often now. But if you want to take a bath, I can go prepare one for you—“
Something about the thought of fucking Mark to exhaustion made you giggle. Especially because moments ago, he was wanting to continue having sex for much longer. “No, I don’t think I can walk you asshole. I’ll just take one in the morning before my shift. But thank you. Am I wearing you out Tuan?”
“Yes and I’m not afraid to admit it. I think five orgasms in less than two hours would do that to someone. You’re so fucking sexy and so damn good to me there’s no point in trying to conceal my feelings for the sake of my pride. I’d shout it at the top of my lungs if I had to—I’m completely whipped for you and I have every intention on keeping it that way for the rest of our lives. Now, I’ll be right back okay?”
With a couple of kisses against the corner of your mouth, he disappeared in to your bathroom. It was only natural for you to snicker to yourself at the sight of his cute little butt as he quickly walked over to get a warm wash cloth and a bottle of water. You decided to take that time to reminisce on tonight’s escapade.
Every time you thought about your love making sessions with Mark, your stomach would swarm with butterflies. In the beginning of your relationship when you were just beginning to learn more and more about each other, the sex the two of you would experiment in was exciting, fun and intoxicating—not that it wasn’t like that anymore.
But now that you were both so madly in love with one another, it was more passionate, more meaningful and a lot more desirable. You always had to be touching him and without even having to ask him, he’d always have his hands on you too. The bed sank and before you could even comprehend what was going on, a wet towel was gently being brushed along your lower body.
He first got in between your thighs, making sure to wipe up any excess cum that might have dripped from your entrance. Then he brought it up to your navel, making sure to rid visible sweat—then finally he cleaned your folds and with the way a tingling sensation began to develop, you knew he was purposely taking his time to mess around with and to get a rise out of you.
Right as you were about to whine in attempts to get him to stop, he got another washcloth and wiped your face. Mark was well aware of how your skincare was very important to you. He’d watch you take the time to put on moisturizer, toner and sunscreen on in the mornings and right before bed.
It was the little things that he recognized that made your heart swell; no matter how many times a day he’d tell you that he loved you, he professed his love just a little bit more through his actions. Once he was done, he helped you put on a clean pair of underwear and one of his t-shirts—a reoccurring act of affection he did not too long after you came down from your highs.
With a sweet kiss on your forehead, he went back in to the bathroom to prepare for bed; brushing his teeth and putting on a pair of sweatpants before taking his spot next to you under the covers. By instinct, you were pulled up against his chest and his arms snaked around your hips. He left wet kisses all along your face; making sure to steal a few pecks from your lips as he smiled against your mouth.
“That was mind blowing as always. My pretty—pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect. What did I do to deserve you? God, I can’t believe it’s been so long since we’ve made love—“
“It’s been three days Mark—“
“Exactly. That’s a long time baby. Especially because I crave you every second of the day. I can’t get over how wonderful you are. Literally flawless. Rest up baby, once you come home tomorrow I’m having you again and again and again—“
“Oh God, how I’m not pregnant at this point is still a mystery to me. Horndog.”
He let out the most adorable little giggle while turning your body so that he was spooning you. He’s told you many times that as much as he loved being able to see your face, he was more comfortable in this position. You were confident it was because he’d get to feel your ass pressed up against his length, but you didn’t want him feeling embarrassed if that was the real reason behind. Besides, you felt so safe and protected in this position.
However, you’ve been contemplating on voicing your feelings about how nights would end right after you and your boyfriend would tap out from either exhaustion or overstimulation. Sure, you loved the cuddling and being held by him, but that was pretty much it. He’d kiss you a couple of times and then he’d say good night. If you both had even the tiniest amount of energy, you’d stay up and talk about whatever it was that your hearts desired.
You wanted to kiss him for much longer than the fleeting kisses—you fantasized about spending a little more time with his soft lips on yours. Maybe he saved the makeout sessions for the bedroom. But even during sex, the kisses were hot and wild—in the heat of the moment, but you were too busy focusing on being penetrated to really enjoy kissing him.
“Well, I mean my pullout game is the best—“
“You literally just came inside of me that’s a joke right?”
He let out a scoff of disbelief and although you couldn’t see him, he playfully rolled his eyes. “I mean, well, you know—yeah whatever. The thought of impregnating you is a huge kink of mine. You’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives. You’re going to be the best mother one day and the cutest little pregnant lady. I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby and I’m even more impatient in finally starting a family with you. You really are the love of my life. Look at how sappy you’ve made me. Mmm, I love you, I love you, I love you. Sweet dreams my love.”
Hearing him confess all that he did about his love for you and the future the two of you had together—you couldn’t stop the smile from taking over the entirety of your face. Almost every single thing Mark said—no matter how naughty or straight up cheesy it was never failed to make your heartbeat increase. You were soon feeling silly for worrying about such a minuscule thing and you wished it could have been enough for you. Yet, the question was on the tip of your tongue; you were mentally battling with yourself.
There had to be a reason why the kissing stopped once you both reached your fill. You didn’t want to seem too clingy or overdramatic—maybe you were overthinking things. Your mind kept telling you to leave it alone and that he had his reasons, yet you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in your head that begged you to continue to pry at him. Mark looked down at you in curiosity when you turned around to face him. He lifted up your chin and furrowed his brows in confusion.
“Everything alright y/n?”
“Why don’t you kiss me more?” Your question was muffled since you were too shy to ask him out right and hid your face in the crook of his neck.
“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you—“
“I want you to kiss me more.”
“Wait, what? What do you mean? Where is this coming from baby?”
An exasperated sigh fell from your lips and you were soon regretting actually asking him the question that’s been weighing heavy on your mind for months now. It was extremely silly now that the question was actually out there but the reason why your relationship with your boyfriend had been so healthy all these years is because conversation was one of the most important keys to making sure you were both on the same page.
The last thing Mark wanted was for you to be uncomfortable or to feel as though you had to hide your feelings for his sake. Which is why you weren’t surprised to see him looking at you worriedly, waiting patently for you to go in to further detail.
“Right before we go to bed, whether it’s after sex or just once we’re done doing whatever it is after we both come home from work, you give me a few kisses and then we cuddle and fall asleep. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy doing those things. I just—I want more. I love kissing you if you didn’t already know that by now. Kissing you is one of my favorite activities that we do because your lips are so addicting. But we only ever passionately kiss during sex and when we make out it usually leads to love making and theres really nothing wrong with that. I just wish we could kiss without having it end up or only be during sex.”
Although the lights were off and you could barely see him, you could tell he was wearing a blank expression on his face. He continued his ministrations of gliding his fingers along your sides but he stayed silent for a few moments. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole; you were so embarrassed but this was your boyfriend.
He needed to know how you felt if your relationship was going to continue as beautifully as it currently was. To your surprise, he lifted up your chin and reconnected your lips together in a very passionate kiss. His hands cupped either sides of your face and he roughly nipped and sucked on your lips; leaving you breathless as he deepened the kiss further.
It was only natural for you to smile against his mouth; you were hoping you didn’t upset him and that he was only kissing you like this to please you. You were hoping he too was finding some enjoyment in kissing you right now. As his lips continued to attack yours, he took that chance to flip you on top of your back and stole a couple more kisses before sucking on your sweet spot right below your ear. This was what you wanted; it felt so wonderful and you felt even more closer to him than you felt a little over half an hour ago with his cock buried deep inside of you.
“How was that? By that gorgeous smile of yours and the way your lips are swollen I’m assuming you quite liked that.” You nodded in agreement and stole a few kisses from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel as though I’m not interested in continuing our intimacy once we’re about to go to bed. Trust me, kissing you is my favorite thing to do with you too. You drive me fucking crazy. I’ve actually questioned myself about this numerous times too but I just assumed you were tired and I didn’t want to press you in to doing something just because I wanted to do it. Plus—“
He led your hand down to his sweatpants and your cheeks grew warm at the feeling of his hardened cock. It never failed to make you laugh seeing as how easy it was for him to grow horny at just the simplest touch. “This is why our make out sessions lead to sex and why I was hesitant about telling you that I wanted to be more intimate with you rather than the small pecks and holding you before falling asleep myself. It’s just going to lead in to another round. God, I sound like such a nymphomaniac but I’m proud to say that I am. I got a very sexy girlfriend, who could blame me for wanting to relish in our love at least once a day? Well, now that I know how you feel y/n, I would love to kiss you more. A lot more. why don’t we experiment a little tonight and see where it leads tomorrow?” You beamed up with him and with all the energy you still had left inside of you, flipped your bodies so you were on top. It obviously riled him up and the cheeky grin he was giving you sent warmth to your core.
“That sounds like a plan. Now kiss me.”
“With pleasure.”
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why’d you only call me when you’re high
A/N: this spur of the moment fanfic is loosely based on a tiktok video by dabisjuicycums0ckk. enjoy!
p.s, i’m not sure who the owner of the gif is so if you do know please lmk and i’ll credit them!
also, a HUGE thanks to @runeterrankhaleesi for proof reading this fic for me!
The persistent vibration from your phone under your pillow disrupted your sleep.
Groaning, you flipped onto your side and pulled the blanket further above your head, hoping it would somehow block the vibration of your phone and allowing you to return to sleep.
Seconds later, the vibration stopped and you sighed in relief. Just as you were about to fall back into sleep, your phone vibrated again but this time, the action was small. This meant you had a message. Whatever, the person who was texting you at this ungodly hour can wait till the morning when you were awake and had plenty of sleep.
Your phone vibrates not five minutes later. Annoyed and the last bits of sleep had all but disappeared, you propped yourself on your elbow while your other hand searched for your phone under the pillow. Once you’ve come in contact with the rubber material of your phone case, you pulled your phone out and tapped on the screen.
Squinting at the harsh brightness of your phone, you waited until your eyes adjusted to the screen before blinking down at the notifications.
5 Missed calls from Dabi
The first notification had read.
Your heart skipped a beat but you ignored it and read the notification above it.
Answer your phone
Right now
Your breathing had become shallow and your heart quickened. Dabi was pissed. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Dabi it’s that he does not like to be kept waiting. And, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his fury, you heaved a heavy sigh and called him back. Noticing that it was just a few minutes past three in the morning.
“Took you long enough.” His rough voice greeted you after two rings. “Why didn’t you answer?”
Rolling your eyes, you calmly replied, “I was sleeping.” You hoped that your groggy voice would somehow inform him that you were too tired to do whatever shit he wanted.
“Well, too bad.” Dabi scoffed. “I need to see you.”
Your relationship with Dabi was an odd one.
The two of you have met about a year and a half now after you had encountered the scarred man near the piers one misty, Monday morning. You had been near the piers to meet with one of the loan sharks you had borrowed money from to extend the payment deadline. You never wanted to be associated with such people, but unfortunately, being a teacher doesn’t pay enough. Even though you worked at a prestigious school for up and coming young heroes, your income from that school couldn’t help pay the amount for your mother’s heart surgery. The bank would take too long. They’d have to take up your request to a committee to determine if they could lend you the money based on your yearly salary and how long it takes for you to pay them back. That could take months, maybe even years and you didn’t have time to wait. You were desperate and your mother was in a critical condition- she could die at any moment.
Searching through the dark web, you managed to find a loan shark that was highly respected by people who were in similar positions like you. If you could go back in time, you would’ve stopped yourself from borrowing money from them and wait for the bank’s approval. It’s too late now and what’s done is done. You just hoped that the school wouldn’t find out about this and risk losing your job.
You still trembled in fear whenever you remembered the goon asking you if you had their money. You could vividly hear the slight lisp in his words and could almost smell the scent of his cigar. “You got our money?” He asked in greeting.
Pulling your jacket closer to your body to protect you from the harsh and cold weather, you shook your head at them, “I would like an extension please. I’m close to paying you back. I just need more time.” You pleaded with wide and hopeful eyes. You knew that these people weren’t nice. You knew they’d kill anyone who wouldn’t pay them back. Still, it won’t hurt to ask. Right?
Wrong.
With a snap of the man’s fingers, a foot kicked the back of your knees causing you to fall harshly on the wet ground with a painful wail.
“What the fuck?!” You cried as you held your leg that was throbbing in pain. You let out a hiss as fingers dug themselves into your hair and gave a rough tug, pulling your head up to face the man with the cigar. “I said I’ll pay you back!”
The man let out a chuckle, “Sorry, babycakes. Boss doesn’t like to wait. If you don’t have his money by tonight…” He didn't finish his sentence for you to understand that these people were willing to kill you.
“I can’t save two million yen in one day!”
The man simply shrugged, as if to say, ‘Not my problem.’ “You can rob a bank for all I care.”
“You’re insane!”
The man’s expression darkened and he nodded at the man still clutching your hair tightly. Before you could process what else was going on, the man’s foot came into contact to your side. You couldn’t even scream as the man continued to kick you repeatedly.
Never in your life had you wished you had a quirk than you did at that moment. Curse your quirkless nature and curse the fact that you were only a home room teacher who taught quirk theoretics. If only you had one of your students' quirks, you would’ve fought back and escaped.
Suddenly, you felt an immense wave of heat and heard horrifying screams from above you. The man suddenly let go of your hair, screaming in pain, as the blue flames enveloped him, eating his skin and burning him. Then, he collapsed, his body on the ground still lit ablaze by the inferno. Your breath hitched at the sight.
Turning to your right, you saw a young man dressed in a long leather jacket with a crazed look in his eyes as he turned to face the man with the cigar, a wave of blue fire came from his palm and surged towards the man, ending his life instantly.
The smell of charred skin wafted your nose and you quickly vomited at the disgusting smell of burning flesh.
Once you’ve calmed down, you wiped your lips with the back of your hand and glanced up at the deranged man looking down on you. “What have you done?” Your voice was shaky and your breathing was shallow.
This was bad. The two men you owed money to were dead. There was no way their boss wouldn’t find out about this. They’ll come for you and for that man with a fire quirk. And when you voiced your thoughts, the man just smirked. “I’d like to see them try.”
The glare in your eyes did nothing to diminish his amusement, “I can’t protect myself.” You spat at him.
He blinked lazily at you, his sapphire eyes glowing brightly. “Let’s make a deal. I offer my services to protect you-”
“I’m not going to pay you to protect me.” You interrupted him.
“Wasn’t asking for money.”
“Then what do you want.”
For the second time in your life, you wished you could go back in time to stop yourself from making stupid decisions.
Ever since that day, you’ve become Dabi’s sexual partner.
The two of you didn’t meet often, maybe once or twice every other month before parting ways and never having to see each other until Dabi needed you again.
Things were difficult at first. You had refused the man, almost laughing at the proposition. Dabi, however, had managed to convince you.
“You’ll die.” He had said.
And before you could say anything like I work at U.A, I have other people who can protect me. You remembered that the reason you were in this mess was because you had approached the loan sharks, borrowed money from them and had his goons killed. If the school found out...
The first night Dabi had called you was a week after the two of you had met. He had sent you the location to some cheap motel hidden deep within the city. Somewhere far from respectable neighborhoods and a place where no teacher such as yourself should be in.
Sex with Dabi was...an experience.
Dabi had a strict “Don’t ask, don’t talk” policy. You come, you get naked and you had sex. That’s it. He wouldn’t even offer to clean you up after sex- not that you were expecting him to, but he didn’t even bother cleaning up after himself either. Opted to wipe his dick clean with tissues before pulling his trousers back up and escaping through the motel window. Leaving the check-out procedure to you.
Somewhere down the road, things had shifted between the two of you. He’d call you more often. Your late night encounters becoming weekly rather every other month. His “Don’t ask, Don’t talk policy” had changed to “I ask, You answer”. And, instead of meeting at some shady motels, he’d spend the night with you. That happened when you had received a threatening letter which you instantly knew was from the loan sharks. The fact that they knew where you lived frightened you and the first thing that you did was call Dabi.
The first night Dabi spent in your apartment, he had scanned the entire place to make sure they didn’t bug you.
He had stood by the window, hidden by the thin material of your curtain, to keep an eye out for any suspicious-looking people.
Sleep didn’t come easy for you. Your head jerked whenever you closed your eyes for a couple of minutes. Images of Dabi lying dead on the ground with his blood staining your bedroom floor flashing before you.
“Hey.”
It took you a second to register that Dabi was sitting on the edge of your bed, his fingers tracing your leg that was hidden under the blanket, “You should sleep.” He whispered.
“I’m trying.” You mumbled in exhaustion. You could hear the concern in your colleagues’ voice the next morning when they asked about your well-being.
“They’re not going to hurt you.” His fingers were drawing random patterns on your leg, “I won’t let them.”
The softness of his voice and the way his fingers gliding up against your leg had managed to lull you to sleep.
This happened every night and on the tenth night Dabi had spent with you, you discovered that the man would stay up late, ensuring your safety, before leaving just before your alarm rang for work.
You had discovered this when you had woken up one night wanting to drink a glass of water found Dabi still sitting on the edge of your bed, his hand holding your ankle securely. The gesture did things to you; things you couldn’t understand. Not wanting to disturb the rare moment of vulnerability, you willed yourself back to sleep.
Even after Dabi had killed the man who was after you, Dabi didn’t stop his services. He no longer protected you, however, he still called you whenever he needed you to help relieve some of his tension. And somewhere along the road, you started developing feelings towards him.
Your newfound attachments crept up to you slowly.
There was a period of time where Dabi didn’t call you; didn’t seek for you in the late hours of the night. And your messages asking about his well-being went unanswered.
Don’t ask, don’t talk.
You craved his rough touches.
His deep voice calling your name and whispering filthy things in your ear that you knew you should be ashamed instead of feeling turned on.
The way he’d grunt and moan, his fingers holding onto your hips so tightly that you’d often wake up the next day with bruises.
“Y/N? Y/N?” The sound of Dabi calling your name brought you back to reality.
“Sorry.” You cleared your throat and inwardly cursed the fact that you were fully awake and had no intentions of going back to sleep. “What were you saying?”
“Open the window, I’m outside.”
To say that you were surprised that Dabi was outside of your window was understatement. He didn’t like to be kept waiting so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Dabi was already outside waiting for you. You wouldn’t put past him if he had been outside your window the second he started calling you.
After ending the call, you unlocked your window to let Dabi in and returned to sit on the edge of your bed.
Dabi had sauntered his way in, standing the middle of your bedroom, as if he owned the place- as if he owned you.
It pained you to see Dabi in all of his glory.
After not seeing him for months and worrying about him all that time, he texted you after so long, only for his selfish desires. Your messages of asking about his whereabouts and if things were alright were left unanswered.
It killed you that he ignored you like that, kept you in the dark while he was gallivant somewhere doing God knows what, while you worried over him that even the other teachers had taken notice of the dark and deep circles appearing under your eyes.
Truly, it was unfair.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He asked with a sly smirk on his charred lips, “You’re normally so eager to see me.” And crept his way towards your bed and placed both of his scarred hands on either sides of your thighs, trapping you.
He leaned in and nuzzled his nose against your neck and took a deep inhale, his eyes closing at your addicting scent. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and we’ll see if daddy can fix it?”
You lifted your hands upwards and rested upon his shoulders and pushed him away in annoyance.
But Dabi didn’t budge as his hands still caged you securely. Removing one of his hands from your bed, he cupped your cheeks and roughly caressed your soft skin. He had a glint in his sapphire eyes which reminded you of just how dangerous he truly was.
Slowly, as if to not frighten his prey away, Dabi leaned in and roughly kissed you.
Despite the kiss being languid, it was sloppy. Drool dripped down your chin as Dabi’s hand trailed from your cheek to your neck and squeezed. Dabi took advantage of your gasp and shoved his tongue all the way in. The metal ball of his piercing felt cold against the roof of your mouth.
It didn’t take you long to give in and ease into the kiss, shoulders sagging in relaxation as his one of his arms wrapped around your waist.
Dabi tilted his head and deepened the kiss in a certain way that made your eyes roll backwards in delight. It was an invitation for you to bury your fingers deep in his thick tuft of hair, roughly tugging at the dyed locks.
All too soon, Dabi broke the kiss and you almost whined at the loss until you felt his scarred lips attached themselves to your neck. His hand trailed up your neck then to your cheek and titled your chin upwards to have better access.
His kisses were fervent.
His tongue lapped at your neck and you shivered at the way his tongue piercing felt against your skin. The cold metal rapidly cooled your warm skin.
A broken moan fell from your lips as he bit your neck. Chuckling, he reattached his mouth to your neck and sucked with all of his might. Once he was satisfied, he darted his tongue and licked a long stripe upwards until his lips found yours again.
His tongue against yours.
His hand squeezing your neck.
The heat between your legs.
It was all too much for you to handle.
You’ve missed Dabi so much.
Missed the way he looked at you with mischief in his eyes before he would touch you. Missed the way he would grunt your name in your ear when he was close to coming undone. But most of all, you had missed how good Dabi made you feel.
A soft whimper fell from your lips when you felt a single tear roll down your cheek and make its way into the kiss. A single tear turned to two. Then three. Until they became so many that you lost track of them.
The kiss turned bitter as you remembered the suffocating loneliness you had felt the past couple of months when Dabi had ignored you. How you would clutch onto your phone and stare at your screen, waiting for Dabi to text or call you. At how it was arduous for you to fall asleep, disquiet over Dabi’s well-being.
The hand on your neck trailed to the back of your head and gripped on the locks of hair on the nape of your neck and pulled your head backwards. “What’s this?” Dabi asked, breaking the kiss.
Your cheeks glistened with tears still falling.
Dabi was staring down at you in disappointment. You felt ashamed and turned your head to look away from those alluring blue eyes. But the hand on your chin prevented you from doing so.
“You really went and did it, didn’t you.” Dabi sighed in despondency, his fingers tapping your cheeks. “You really want to give me your little heart. That’s cute~”
He cupped your chin harshly and forced you to stare in his blue eyes that danced wildly just like his flames. “But it’s not something that I want.”
“What about what I want?” You whispered, ignoring the way Dabi’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.
Dabi said nothing and instead, leaned in and kissed your lips again in a harsh kiss. And you allowed him to take control. To have his way with you and do whatever pleased him. Because the look of disappointment he had displayed earlier was unbearable.
Dissatisfying Dabi was far more important than what you wanted- what you needed from the wanted criminal. The last thing you wanted was for him to end whatever it was going on between you.
So you let him ruin you, taint you and make you cry in pleasure and dejection. Your moans were desperate, begging and pleading for him; For his touches, his kisses and for his name to fall from his lips.
And when he was done with you, his needs fulfilled and his thirst quenched, he silently left through the window just as the sun began to peak its way through the horizon.
When you step into your office the next day, your colleague Aizawa was there to silently greet you with a warm cup of coffee as always. Whether he had noticed the puffiness of your eyes and the red tint at the corner from all those hours of crying, he said nothing and you didn’t care.
Aizawa quietly watched as you lifelessly stared down at your phone. It was a known fact that Aizawa was the least sociable person in school, if not the whole world. So, going out of his way to interact with people was out of the question. Though, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy your small talk. Which is why he noticed the gradual shift in you.
The way you’d arrive in school with smiles and eyes twinkling brighter than the stars at night- How those stars slowly dimmed and died out one autumn evening, those orbs never leaving the phone in your hand. The way you’d tap on the screen to see if you had a new message or an incoming call.
It was difficult for him to not notice those dark circles under your eyes, darker and more prominent than his own. He wanted to reach out to you, to ask if you were alright but the emptiness in your eyes had him hesitating. He had never seen you so lifeless, so vulnerable. Just as he opened his mouth to ask you the question that was eating him alive- to know what had you so depressed, the first bell rang and he watched as you dragged yourself to your first class.
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Wonders of Ohio P.9
masterlist
requests are closed, but please read this first :)
if you want to be tagged, send an ask or message me!
pairing: draco x reader
request: nope, my original shameless self insert idea lmao
summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for the ride of her life when their exchange student is...a bit strange (but very hot). NOT a nonmagic AU, though you already knew that if you’ve read part 8 ;)
warnings: swearing, mentions of a break in, concerns about a home intruder, objectively the most fluffy scene we’ve gotten so far in this series (hehe), draco being fucking obnoxious and moody (did i mention swearing?)
a/n: ayoooooo so here’s part 9, as promised. i’ve started getting back into the hp universe more and more, so i should probably be picking up my writing soon. i’ve been feeling more myself again!! which is super awesome. i don’t think many people read this series anymore (or my author notes in general but i don’t blame yall) but i’m having a lot of fun writing it, so i’m going to keep going :)
music recs:
puppy princess -- hot freaks
loverboy -- A-wall
linger -- the cranberries
tags tags tags: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos
word count: 3.8k :)
Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if Draco deliberately waited until the last minute to tell her family that he was leaving so he could evade her questioning. She tried to talk to him later that evening by knocking on his door, but she was met with complete silence.
Draco was ignoring her, and she didn’t get why. She’d promised to not tell anyone--even begged for him to trust her and essentially swore on her life--but he still wasn’t acting normal. Perhaps he didn’t want her to badger him with questions about the magical world.
Or maybe this was an excuse to get away from her.
Y/N swallowed the second possibility and locked it away somewhere out of sight. He’d left without a single word more to her (not even a congratulations for getting into a top 20 school, that loser) and never even bothered telling her when he’d return. And maybe that was the nicest part of it--she could pretend like he was never coming back.
As attractive as that option was, she had to admit that there was a Draco-shaped hole in her passenger car seat every time she drove to school. And in the kitchen when she was studying. And everywhere else he’d once touched.
“Why do you think he went back?”
Y/N took a break from reviewing her Art History final exam notes to look up at Lizzy. “Maybe something happened with his dad or he wanted to spend his holidays with his family? It’s probably not that serious.”
“Speaking of his dad, I tried to look up his name and see if anything came up,” Lizzy began. Y/N felt her heart jump into her throat. “Don’t you think it’s kinda sus? I haven’t found anything for him. It’s like he’s been completely wiped off the face of the earth. Do you know anything about it?”
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s any of my business.” Draco’s franticness when she found out lingered in the back of her mind as she chose her words carefully. “I’m sure if he’s a genuine political target, they’ve just scrubbed the web clean of him, being a minor and all.”
“But don’t you think it’s funny that he’s apparently so important but there’s no evidence of him or his father ever existing?”
“Lizzy.” Her voice was firm. “It’s entirely possible that his real name is different. And either way, it’s not our story to uncover. He’s entitled to his own privacy, and if he doesn’t reveal his true identity then we need to respect that.”
“Oooookaaayyyyy, Mother,” said Lizzy. “You’re so fun. You know that, right?”
“It’s my job.”
After the close brush with Lizzy, Y/N avoided the topic of Draco with her friends like wildfire. At the back of her mind, she registered that that was probably more suspicious, but when Sylvia asked her about him during lunch, she finally spun up a story.
“I told him I liked him,” she told everyone, the words stinging her throat. “He doesn’t feel the same way. I just would feel better if we dropped it.”
Her friends reacted immediately with sympathy, telling her that it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t see her for what she was worth. Somehow, this made her feel worse. She didn’t even need to tell him her feelings to know his thoughts--he didn’t see her as anything but a “muggle”, or whatever he called them. She never stood a chance.
Y/N spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering how things would’ve been different if she was a witch. She didn’t know anything about his world (apart from the fact that they really had a stick up their asses about people knowing of them) but she somehow craved a place in it. Would Draco feel differently towards her if she was magic?
It was probably better if she didn’t pay too much mind to it, but she couldn’t let the thought go. Every time she shut her eyes at night, the memory of waking up next to Draco replayed in her head, over and over. She would’ve sold her soul to have gone back to that. Would things have been different if she had just...not found the letters? She was driving herself crazy digging through all her interactions with him. There’s no way she was imagining things, and judging by the surprised reactions of her friends when she told them he didn’t reciprocate feelings, she wasn’t the only one who thought something was there. If he was really so disgusted by her and her people, he wouldn’t have let her sleep in his room, in his bed no less.
As December wore on, her mind began to be occupied by another feverish stream of thoughts. If she didn’t already feel like she was going crazy over the Draco problem, she was going completely insane over the fact that she was misplacing things like crazy and forgetting the most basic of things. It seemed like it was almost every day that she was forgetting where she put her keys (even though she could’ve sworn she’d hung them up by the door) or getting home to find the door already unlocked even though she was sure that she’d locked it behind her. It would’ve creeped her out, but she was really off kilter. It just wasn’t right having Draco away, and the sense of dread she got every time she went by her room just threw her off balance. What if she still had lingering sickness from whatever magical infliction she suffered?
He really should’ve stuck around to watch after me. Just in case.
Another thing was bothering her--a name she saw pop up in the pouch from when she went through his letters. It was a small portion of his collection, and she didn’t even think to examine it until after he took them back from her, but she noticed that the name “Pansy Parkinson” came up more than once as a return address.
Her mind immediately jumped to the worst--Draco was madly in love with another girl, a magical girl, and traveled back home with the express purpose of declaring his neverending devotion for her and complaining about that rat Ohioan muggle that he had to spend his days with.
Y/N knew it wasn’t healthy, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t quite shake it. The fact that he’d no doubt grown up around girls that would be suitable for him to date was making her physically ill with jealousy, which was probably the most embarrassing part of her feelings for him. Nevermind how much time she spent fantasizing about how soft his hair felt or how his stupidly pretty fingers would feel grazing her skin--she couldn’t even cope with the idea of him existing with other women that were honestly a better choice to him.
That Christmas was surprisingly bleak. Being an only child always made for a quiet house during the holidays, but the expectation she held of having Draco there set her up for disappointment. Her house felt empty.
“Do you think he’s coming back?” Y/N asked her mother as they did the morning dishes together.
“Well, I assume so. Why wouldn’t he? He was scheduled to spend the entire year with us. I think that if he’s changed his mind we would at least know by now.”
“What if he’s still deciding?”
“Why, miss him already?” Mrs. Y/L/N’s tone was teasing, but she felt her cheeks grow hot.
“Quite the contrary. I’m just wondering if I’m about to become the pampered only child again or if I’m going to need to go back into the unglamorous life of sharing the spotlight.”
“Y/N,” her mother tutted. She’d stopped doing the dishes.
Y/N made a point to evade her knowing look. “Mom.”
Her mother took a breath before answering. “Nothing. As a matter of fact, I did get a letter from him a few days ago. He’s scheduled to return the second week of January, right before school goes back.”
“Oh,” said Y/N. No matter how hard she tried, there’s no way her relief wasn’t visible.
“How’s that for your Christmas gift, hm?”
“Mom!”
“Hey! Hey, it was a joke,” Mrs. Y/L/N said, throwing her hands up in a “no can do” sort of gesture. “I know that you’re good friends with him is all. Unless…”
“Mom!” Her cheeks were all shades of red.
“All I’m saying is that he seems to enjoy your company.”
“Stockholm syndrome, I’m telling you.” Her explanation of what that meant was on the tip of her tongue before she stopped herself. There was no reason to--the only person who would need that explained to them was no longer on the same continent as her.
“Whatever you’d like to think.”
~
The snowstorm hit them without warning, two days after Christmas. Her parents had left for the night to attend a charity auction, but unfortunately for Y/N, by the time that they realized that their daughter would be snowed in, the roads were too dangerous to drive on. Y/N begrudgingly agreed to do all of the things they told her to--get the generator ready, make sure the fireplace was prepared, and locate all the candles in the house.
On any normal day, she wouldn’t have been concerned in the slightest, but she’d felt uneasy in her house ever since the night of the break-in, and now that this was the first night she’d have to spend alone, her heart was pounding at the thought of having to sleep in an empty house. Especially if the power was out. Especially when whoever broke in was still on the loose.
She locked up at dusk, making sure that every entry to her home was completely sealed shut. The generator was in the basement, all set up in the case that the lights went out. She’d located all the bottled water in her house in case the pipes froze, and she finally retired to her room to relax.
The sense of dread that hovered around Draco’s room was gone, thankfully. The overall feeling of creepiness was just beginning to lose its jarring sting, but she’d never quite been able to shake how many things she misplaced in the beginning of the month.
She busied herself with mundane activities--she cleaned out her closet, organized her drawers, read, changed her sheets, and finished the last of her homework--but nothing could distract her from the gnawing inside of her. The hairs on the back of her neck constantly stood up, even when she was tucked away in the corner of her room, nestled into her blankets. The tingling was akin to what she felt when she walked into that antique shop on homecoming night--the same night when Draco helped her off her feet and narrowly kept her from throwing up all over Heather.
Looking back on it, she realized that when he grabbed her wrist, he must’ve done something to quell her nausea, something magical. There was no way her carsickness could’ve been able to disappear so quickly.
Her soliloquy was interrupted by what sounded like footsteps outside. Before she could assess the situation and decide what she was going to do, a boom sounded off in the distance and she was all of a sudden bathed in darkness.
Y/N froze.
Someone was most definitely outside her house, but thankfully she’d locked all the doors. And, thankfully, the boom told her that her fuse box hadn’t been messed with. A tree had probably just fallen on a transformer.
But those small comforts still didn’t change the fact that she was no longer alone--and not only that, but no longer alone without power.
Her thoughts were interrupted once again by banging on her front door. Y/N jumped, just barely managing to clap her hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek. She’d seen enough horror movies to know that alerting someone that you were home wasn’t the smartest move. She’d have to be strategic.
Heart pounding out of her chest, she crept out of her room and down the stairs. The power outage was quite lucky, she realized, as whoever was outside couldn’t see in. The moon only cast a slight light as it reflected off of the snow, so she was going to be able to see the person outside before they would see her.
She squinted from her perch by the base of the staircase. She could make out a silhouette, a tall and lanky one. The weak moonlight reflected off a very light head of hair, and Y/N was struck with a feeling of familiarity.
No way...
Y/N stood frozen for a few seconds as she heard the person knock on the door again. A muffled version of a familiar British voice said, “Is anyone there?”
Throwing all caution to the wind and praying to any higher power that was listening to her that her suspicion was correct, she pushed down on the doorknob and swung it open.
Her heart stopped.
“Draco? What are you--”
Before she could get another word out of her mouth, she was pulled into the tightest (and snowiest) hug of her life. One of his arms wrapped solidly around her waist, the other reaching further up to her shoulders to hold her closer. He was tall enough in comparison that he could rest his chin on the top of her head while she cautiously clasped her hands around him, breathing in the same soft pine scent that she knew so well.
When he finally let go of her, she noticed that his face was decidedly less pale than what it had been when she first opened the door. At a loss for words, Y/N just made her way behind him and shut the door to keep the storm from blowing any more snowflakes in. She noted that Draco was shaking.
“You’re okay,” he said, his voice low and quiet.
She grinned. “Yeah. Believe it or not, I’m not that scared of the dark.”
He didn’t look nearly as amused, wringing his hands out in front of him instead of meeting her eyes.
“You’re going to freeze to death if you’re gonna just stand there in soaking clothes,” she chided. “And what are you doing back half a month early? I know you must’ve missed me, but I didn’t expect you to miss me THAT much.”
He rolled his eyes, bringing Y/N the comfort that the sarcastic asshole was still in there. “We need to talk.”
“No, what you need to do is get changed into dry clothes,” she said. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but until we get our generator working, there’s no heat...and I’m not sure if the Ministry is going to like it if I let you die on my watch.”
Even though he didn’t normally laugh at her jokes, he seemed especially solemn when she said this. It became very clear to her then that he regretted his brief display of affection.
“What are you doing, just standing here? Shoo! I don’t want to see you dripping snow all over the rug.” She waved him off until he made his way up the stairs, still eerily silent.
Once she was sure he was actually getting dressed, she made her way to the kitchen where she started heating up the water. She’d never been more thankful for the fact that they had a gas stove instead of an electric one.
The tea was almost finished brewing by the time that Draco was back downstairs, perched awkwardly on the couch. She’d never seen his sweater before--it was in a rich forest green with a silver crest of a snake.
“Are you going to tell me whatever is going on? I’ve never seen you like this before,” asked Y/N as she handed him the mug that she knew to be his favorite.
He took a sip and waited a bit before responding. “I found out some things while I was away.”
“Is that it? Must’ve been something pretty interesting for you to come in here and act like I’m your long lost love or whatever.” She took careful note of how his cheeks were especially pink, but it must’ve been because of the cold.
“I shouldn’t tell you everything, but I think you should probably know the gist of things,” he began. “First of all, I figured out why I couldn’t use the Obliviation cube on you. Also, you have to consent to an Unbreakable Vow.”
“A...what? Care to elaborate? Like, at least a little? Why didn’t it work on me?”
He sighed, a sharp breath of air that left his lungs in a huff. “Because you stumbled upon a very important box that can bestow the gift of magic onto anyone. And since you did something in your dream to try and open it, it permanently took root in you. I tried to reverse it, but there’s always going to be an imprint of magic on you.”
“Sick. So I’m a witch now? Like you?”
“No.” His tone was sour. “No, you’re not. For that to work, there needs to be a ritual actually completed by someone magical. That’s why you got so sick--because you would’ve needed me to help you through your dream sequence and open up the box. So, now that you’ve essentially pushed yourself into the magical world uninvited, I can’t use anything on you that’s catered towards Muggles.”
“Rats,” said Y/N. “That’s no fun. What about the whole part about my safety? And what’s that vow thing?”
“Apparently someone really, really wants that box,” Draco told her. “It doesn’t just give muggles the gift of magic--it can also give current wizards powers that are otherwise completely unavailable to the rest of the population. In the wrong hands, they could wreak havoc on the world. And I’m almost positive they think you have it.”
“Oh…” Everything started falling into place. “So, the break in? That probably was them right? And, uh, let’s say if you feel like maybe someone has been in your house while you’ve been gone? Like, that’s something I should be worried about, right?”
“Is that happening to you?” His face looked significantly more pale.
Y/N was tempted to tell him no--just to ease his nerves--but something in his look told her that she needed to be truthful. “Um, kind of. You know how I can be forgetful, though. It’s just little things, like sometimes I come home to find that the front door is unlocked when I’m sure I locked it, or I can’t find little things like my car keys and my phone, but it’s all easily explained.”
“I never should’ve left,” he said, tucked his knees up to his chest. “I should’ve known that that was Merlin’s Box.” He swallowed, meeting her eyes with a gaze that looked so forlorn that her heart ached. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, hey, all we have to do is tell them I don’t have the box, right? And then they’ll leave me alone.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I assume so, but if they didn’t find the box when they originally ransacked your room and they’re still hanging around, I don’t know what to do. That’s why I can’t obliviate you, the proper way that we use on wizards, because I can’t always be there to save you. Once I’m gone, you’re going to have to manage on your own.”
“Please, Draco,” said Y/N. “People will always talk a big game, but once I pull out my pepper spray it’s over. I can take care of myself! I didn’t need protection while you’re away.”
He smiled then, a small one that seemed more sad than anything. “You sound like me. When I was younger.”
“You probably don’t even know what pepper spray is. What’s that vow thing?”
“You have to promise that you won’t say anything that would reveal what you know about me and my world,” said Draco. “I need to find a wizard to say the incantations, but it shouldn’t be too hard. I ended up telling the Ministry what happened--I’m not going to get sent away as they have a clear record of me at least attempting to wipe your memory and they agree that you need to be able to protect yourself. Unbreakable Vows are just really intense promises. If you break it, you die.”
“Is that your way of saying you don’t really trust my word?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s required by the Ministry. If you don’t comply, then you’re going to be completely obliviated and then you can have as much fun as you’d like trying to run from whoever that criminal is without even knowing why they’re after you. Oh, and without me.”
“Then why are you even offering the vow? Don’t you want to go home?”
Draco took a long drink from his mug. “I still have a sentence to carry out. If I go back home, I’ll get sent to the same prison that my father is being held at right now.”
“A...sentence?” Y/N stared at him. “I know you mentioned a punishment, but a sentence?”
He remained silent and refused to meet her eyes.
“Draco, what exactly did you have to do?”
“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. The sudden switch of tone made Y/N start, but he was unwavering in his scowl. “I’d prefer to not think about it.”
“But...Draco…” Y/N cast her gaze to the ground so she didn’t have to see the no doubt furious look in his eyes when she continued to push. “How bad? Do you think that maybe whoever is after me might know that I don’t have the box anymore? And that they might be trying to seek revenge against you for whatever it was that you did instead?”
He didn’t respond.
“Think about it. That would explain why I was untouched this whole time that you were away when they were still keeping tabs on me.”
With a pronounced bonk, he set his mug down on the coffee table. “I’m going to bed.”
She managed to get one more look at his face before he spun around to head up the stairs and was shocked to see what was etched into his face--anger, yes, frustration...and also shame. Unmistakable shame.
final a/n: weeoooooooo i’m like 3 minutes early...this is a monumental moment for my blog. let me know what you guys think (if there’s still people sticking with this series fjkds;al). i am going to go back into my hole and work on some math hw (wonders of ohio y/n vibes...i have low key become her trying to roleplay as a stem girl). the plot is going to thicken and hopefully there will be more fluff soon. i honestly didn’t want to add the hug bc i do want this to be slow burn but it has come to my attention that this is now about 30k words long and i haven’t given y’all so much as an inkling that draco has feelings/anything will happen between them so i gotta give you something to hold you over fjdska;
#draco x reader#draco imagine#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco x you#draco malfoy x you#draco x oc#draco malfoy x oc#draco malfoy#draco#dracotok#draco x y/n#draco malfoy x y/n
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Hi, i was thinking of Attack on castes and i really like the idea of janitor levi, wannabe Hitch and so, would you write a one history teacher Erwin x lawyer reader, where she is friend to Frieda who is a teacher in the school asked her to pick Historia up for her and that's when Erwin sees her for the first time and immediately fell for her.... Hope you can accept it
offer up your heart
↪ WC: 3.3k
↪ Ao3 Link
↪ Genre: fluff, light-hearted, soft
Attack on Castes for those who haven’t read it! (it’s the reason some characters may seem oc)
Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!
Attack on Titan Masterlist | Main Masterlist
You were already late and by god did you not want to be there. You were glad to leave high school behind you when you graduated, promising yourself to never set foot in one ever again. Gossip, bullies, shitty teachers, stupid drama and a mind crushing amount of work. Sure, good things too, but nothing that couldn’t be found in the adult world.
In the adult world you got adventures. You got to fight to bring people the justice they deserved, their livelihood in your hands. They offered up their hearts begging you to save them. It gave you purpose. Whether or not they shed tears of grief or joy would be for you to decide. Nothing quite came close.
Or that’s how you would have felt if your current client wasn’t being such an annoying little shit. He had lied to your face with three wildly conflicting stories about what happened, and then when he got cross-examined by the prosecutor, he decided to go completely off script and implicate himself even further for something he didn’t even do.
The evidence against him were fables and rumours at best but he had begun to make it look plausible through his shifty character. You would get the “not guilty” verdict at the end of the trial, but you were going to have ripped out most of your hair by then.
When you were busy screaming in your hands during the intermission, your friend Frieda rang you and asked you to pick up her younger sister from school because their bastard of a father surely wasn’t going to. You nearly yelled at her then.
Frieda had done favour after favour for you in the past years with your insanely busy and gruelling schedule, so refusing the one time she asked for something in return would put you up with the likes of your client. You agreed, for some reason not asking what time, and then promptly forgot about it.
So there you were, heels clicking rapidly against the school’s hallway, the oranges hues of the sunset streaming through windows and the entrance. You really should have asked for Historia’s number, though you weren’t sure if the girl would bother to reply.
Historia was the epitome of “I think I will cause problems on purpose” simply because she’s bored. To be fair, you couldn’t really blame her, you had no such positive attitude towards school either, but with her being at the top of the pecking order she had the ability to make those problems quite substantial. Freida’s hair was probably going to go grey soon.
You thanked any god that would listen that she had cheerleading practice or you might have genuinely cried. The amount of stress that blonde girl was putting you through simply because she refused to take the bus home was nearly unparalleled.
You looked around the school, each corridor breaking off into another. The same basic lockers and same ceiling lights, same everything. You were fucking lost.
You jogged down some corridors hoping to find someone, turning your head frantically, letting you slam full force into something hard, tall and…blond?
.
Erwin may love being a teacher but my lord did it get tedious sometimes. He loved the younger ones, brimming with hopes, dreams and potential. Though nearly all of them seemed to be misusing it, putting it on the backburner or simply didn’t care. Kids were good but they certainly could be better. Of course, there’d be the standout kids like Armin and Marco who took their schooling seriously and asked questions that allowed him to gush about things that weren’t just on the set curriculum. But what he would give so all of them were that engaged…
He just wanted them to offer their hearts to him, to trust him and put faith in the information he was giving forward. History is something, that he believed at least, was unparalleled in its importance. You learn from the mistakes done by the generations before you, using the knowledge to guide the current decisions needed to be made. On top of that it just let you understand the world around you; how it came to be and your place within it. History was unparalleled in its importance.
That’s why he was still at the school, marking very obviously last-minute written essays, so he could give them back with thorough annotations and advice that he was sure most of them wouldn’t even glance at.
He had popped off to the teacher’s lounge to get a cup of tea, and was making his way back, eyes glued to the swaying liquid as not to spill it, when a smaller figure came barrelling into him. He instinctually moved the tea away, not wanting the scalding water to hit this unfortunate stranger full in the face. Some of the brown liquid dripped to the floor, Levi would surely have his head for it later, but it was better than any burns.
When he was sure the tea was steady, he looked to the stranger on the ground.
He swore he saw a deity.
Erwin peered down at you in pure awe. Albeit being a bit dishevelled and frazzled, you were clearly a force to be reckoned with. Your pant suit was tailored to fit you perfectly, your heels matching your simple jewellery and watch, your hair which was now a little ruffled, was obviously put together with precision in the morning. You were immaculately put together.
And your face, your face. Everything was right where it needed to be in the exact size and proportion to everything else. It was like you had been perfectly carved for over a millennium by only the best sculptors available.
Your aura was something else. Even if he had found you in pyjamas, the power you would exude would be to the same effect. Something in the way your face shifted as thoughts flew across your mind, the way every bit of movement seemed controlled and purposeful. Erwin had read hundreds, maybe thousands of myths all around the world, and none of the gods in them had never been as ethereal as you.
You were the definition of a muse.
You on the other hand were trying to keep down your groans about your ankles as much as possible. Heels were a mistake enough to attempt to run in let alone fall in, god could this day get any…better? Oh no. He was hot.
You swallowed harshly as he looked down at you, tilting his head and eyes wide. You noticed the tea spilt in a little puddle behind him and felt a little guilty, but he seemed to pay it no mind, his piercing blue eyes only on you.
After a silent moment he offered his empty hand. You took it with a hasty thank you under your breath and gripped on. His hand was so warm, so steady, so comfortable to hold. The moment was over quicker than either of you wanted it to be.
You looked to the ground, smoothing down the ruffles in your clothes, some that existed and some that certainly didn’t, so you could reset yourself. You were not going to be flustered by the first man you saw outside of work though to be fair he would be a good reason to let that rule lay down. He was certainly a fine specimen.
You looked back up, coughing to clear your throat. His gaze was already glued to you, it hadn’t been torn off since the moment you bumped into him. His eyes didn’t even shift now you were staring into his. His mouth was slightly agape, his cheeks dusted pink, his eyebrows raised. You were getting nervous but wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.
“Uh, hi…” you started, leaning your head to the side, “Didn’t mean to bump into you there, sorry for spilling your tea.”
He blinked.
“You’re…” he trailed off, having caught himself before he said something stupid. He coughed into his fist, finally looking away, the student poster about splitting atoms on the classroom becoming suddenly riveting. “Sorry, could I help you in anyway?”
You scratched the back of your head with a small smile and Erwin short circuited. “Yeah actually, I’m meant to be picking up a friend’s sister, but I got lost.”
“What’s the student’s name? I may be able to direct you?”
“Historia Reiss.”
“Ah.”
“Ah indeed.”
It was no question that the girl would be infamous to teachers as well, the girl tended to make quite an impression. Hopefully she wouldn’t be rolling her eyes at you more than necessary when you finally found her.
“Miss Reiss is likely at the gym.” He pointed down a corridor, the one you had come from.
You opened your mouth and closed it again, you would probably get lost again but you couldn’t convince yourself that’s why you asked the next question. “Sorry, do you think you walk me there?”
A colourful array of curses flew through your mind as he stilled, a deer in the headlights. You were about to apologise for being a bother and go on your way when his face brightened to an almost blinding degree and his eyes crinkled with his accompanying smile.
“It would be my pleasure.”
The walk started in silence for a few moments as you both scrambled for something to talk about.
“So um,” you said, “What do you teach here? You are a teacher, right? Not just some random guy taking advantage of the tea?”
He was already panicking being in the vicinity of you, so he almost didn’t pick up your teasing tone. The fact you were making fun of him just made his heart hammer even harder.
“I can confirm I’m not some stranger, to this school at least.” His added smile made your heart skip a beat; you should sue him. “I teach history here, but I won’t burden you with the specifics.”
“Do.”
“Pardon?”
“Burden me with the specifics. The teaching path wasn’t for me, but I admire those who followed it,” you sent a smile of your own back, “Plus, you seem like the kind of guy to know your stuff. You look like a passionate teacher. I wish there were more of those when I went to school.”
He took a second to compose himself, you being very cruel to him right now. He’d known you for approximately two minutes, but you were making it increasingly difficult for him to not declare his inevitable love right then and there.
“Oh well um,” he stumbled over his words, trying to string a few sentences together that would be worthy of your time. His hands were already extended, ready to add a visual focus. “War is quite an obvious favourite to go to, but I’ve always been more interested in the things that went on behind the scenes, the life of soldiers and nurses who lost their lives, the lives of those who stayed behind, anyone trying to look for peaceful solutions. Those have always interested me more. And then going far past the world and civil wars of the past three centuries, going back to when England and France were nowhere near the superpowers they became, and of course focusing all around the world. Europe has honestly been pretty lacklustre with their stories compared to everywhere else.”
He looked back to you, half-expecting you to be twiddling your thumbs, but your sight hadn’t moved. Your eyes were wide and bright like the ones he had seen in Armin and Marco except with an added adult understanding and perspective. This was quite unfair on his heart.
He turned his head down a corridor, taking the opportunity to calm down his heated cheeks. Really quite unfair.
“So what do you do?” He tried his best to make the words come out as smooth as he hoped. You didn’t seem to take notice that they didn’t.
“I’m a lawyer, so definitely a different world from yours.” Your laugh was awe-inspiring, he wished it were his morning alarm. There was no way he could come to hate it.
“It suits you,” he noted. It made perfect sense, everything about you commanded attention, thinking about you controlling a court room was easy to picture.
You sputtered out a few sounds, not sure if they were sophisticated enough to be called words and looked down a corridor as you passed, trying to figure out what the angry looking janitor was thinking about instead of what your brain was. This man was having quite the effect on you, and it wasn’t even his looks! Rude!
“Thank you, assuming that’s a compliment.”
Erwin simply nodded, not wanting to let you be privy to his thought processes right then. He would never recover.
“What area do you work in if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Currently represent for murder and manslaughter cases, anything that usually ended up with a person dead or nearly dead.”
A different world from yours indeed.
“I imagine that’s quite intense.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “The paperwork numbs a lot of it, honestly most of my clients aren’t any different from students.”
“I’d hope not.”
“You’d be surprised. Some of those annoying kids in school tend to keep being annoying, annoying enough to land themselves as a suspect for a murder case.”
Now he couldn’t stop thinking about you intimidating a client into submission and to just listen to you and let you take the reins. He would like to see that. He may possibly want to be subjected to it if he was in the right mood. He towered over you, but he would fall to his knees in a second if you told him to as a joke. He hoped that was a wild exaggeration done by his brain, but he knew most things come from a semblance of truth.
You really were something else.
You couldn’t believe you were talking to someone like him. He seemed so self-assured and at one with the flow of life, not needing to seek more to find contentment. He clearly loved his job as much as you loved yours, both acknowledging the downsides but knew it was worth it in the end.
He seemed to be taking up more and more of your brain as he continued to talk, only adding to the list of positives, there hadn’t seemed to be any negatives yet. You were concerned that there didn’t seem to be any. From his looks to his personality to the way he held himself, it was honesty too good to be true. Right?
When he looked at you, your cheeks would burn, and you’d feel like you were in high school all over again. That was one of the things you had forgotten, although small, they had been of the good parts about school. Crushes had always been a little fun.
But the way his lips pulled into an easy smile should be illegal. You could deal with murderers, not this. If he was ever on the stand in court, you would be a stuttering mess when trying to cross-examine him.
As you two kept talking, you’d take turns left and right, seemingly with no real reason. You were pretty sure you had seen those maths posters before, but you didn’t mention it. You were plenty happy to let this be dragged out a little longer. You were flattered to say the least.
Erwin knew that he couldn’t “trick” you without you noticing eventually, he couldn’t do that to save his life, but he also knew that if you had caught on to his little game, you would mention it if you wanted him to stop. That fact made his chest flutter, though perhaps it probably was time to take you where you needed to go so you didn’t have your friend yelling at you. He wasn’t that cruel.
The sound of cheers reached your eyes, your shoulders deflated. Guess this is it then. The gym doors came into sight and you could spot the cheerleaders practicing their formations through the open door. They all looked exhausted, so it was probably near the end by now.
Against the wall you could see Historia’s “friends” watching and applauding whenever Historia so as much breathed. No wonder she got bored.
Your feet came to a stop, just outside the entrance and you looked up to him. He shifted slightly, unsure of what to say.
“Thank you um…” you said before your eyes few open, “Holy- I can’t believe I didn’t get your name?”
He chuckled, deep and clear. “Erwin, Erwin Smith.”
You gave your name to his and his lips mouthed around it silently, feeling the shape of all the letters. It made you a little flustered how earnestly he was printing it into his brain.
Neither of you moved, you didn’t want to go into the gym, and he didn’t want to leave. To put it simply, you were smitten with each other and it was embarrassingly obvious to everyone including the both of you.
The cheerleaders stopped, grabbing their bags and chugging down litre water bottles. Historia would snitch on you in an instant if she saw you hitting on her teacher, so it was time to depart.
“I guess this is it then…” You dragged out the sentence, still trying to stall.
“I suppose it is.”
“Thank you, I do mean it. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
He nodded, swallowing. “I guess I will. Have a pleasant evening, both you and Miss Reiss.”
You cracked a grin. “I can’t promise she will have one, but I know you definitely made my evening a good one. See you, Erwin.”
He smiled softly. “See you.”
He waved as he walked back through the corridors, he snuck a look over his shoulder when he had almost disappeared from view to find you still looking at him. Both of your faces burst into flames and you looked away from each other.
You took Historia home after she (mainly her friends) questioned why you were there instead of Frieda. Reiner, you believed his name was, offering to take her home as suavely as he could to be shot down so quickly by Historia you got whiplash. Her friends bid her dramatic goodbyes which she didn’t reply to, and you two made your way to the car.
“Were you talking to Mr Smith?” She didn’t even bother taking her eyes off of her phone to ask.
“I…I was. I got lots trying to find you so he helped me get to the gym.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He didn’t need to take you all the way there though.”
“He was…he was just being nice.”
She hummed, no emotion behind to hide whether or not it was full of doubt. You really didn’t want her to tell Frieda or you’d never live it down.
“I finally get your ass out of the court room and you flirt with the first guy you see? Bold as ever.”
Though maybe, just maybe, it meant you could offer to pick up Historia more often. Maybe.
Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.
Erwin made his way back to his desk and he plopped himself down on his chair with a sigh. He leant his head back to look at the ceiling, projecting the past minutes on the white ceiling.
He didn’t even ask for your number.
He cursed at himself and dragged a hand over his face before getting back to his mountain of paperwork. Perhaps it was too bold to offer up his heart this quickly.
But you had said “see you”, and maybe it was too much for him to assume, but usually that meant a second meeting was anticipated. Maybe.
Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.
His tea had gone cold, but that was alright. He had met a goddess that evening after all.
.
.
.
a/n: to the person who sent this in sorry it took so long! this was my first time writing for Erwin so i hope it’s alright! thank you for reading :)
Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!
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The point is control
Whenever we think or talk about censorship, we usually conceptualize it as certain types of speech being somehow disallowed: maybe (rarely) it's made formally illegal by the government, maybe it's banned in certain venues, maybe the FCC will fine you if you broadcast it, maybe your boss will fire you if she learns of it, maybe your friends will stop talking to you if they see what you've written, etc. etc.
This understanding engenders a lot of mostly worthless discussion precisely because it's so broad. Pedants--usually arguing in favor of banning a certain work or idea--will often argue that speech protections only apply to direct, government bans. These bans, when they exist, are fairly narrow and apply only to those rare speech acts in which other people are put in danger by speech (yelling the N-word in a crowded theater, for example). This pedantry isn't correct even within its own terms, however, because plenty of people get in trouble for making threats. The FBI has an entire entrapment program dedicated to getting mentally ill muslims and rednecks to post stuff like "Death 2 the Super bowl!!" on twitter, arresting them, and the doing a press conference about how they heroically saved the world from terrorism.
Another, more recent pedant's trend is claiming that, actually, you do have freedom of speech; you just don't have freedom from the consequences of speech. This logic is eerily dictatorial and ignores the entire purpose of speech protections. Like, even in the history's most repressive regimes, people still technically had freedom of speech but not from consequences. Those leftist kids who the nazis beheaded for speaking out against the war were, by this logic, merely being held accountable.
The two conceptualizations of censorship I described above are, 99% of the time, deployed by people who are arguing in favor of a certain act of censorship but trying to exempt themselves from the moral implications of doing so. Censorship is rad when they get to do it, but they realize such a solipsism seems kinda icky so they need to explain how, actually, they're not censoring anybody, what they're doing is an act of righteous silencing that's a totally different matter. Maybe they associate censorship with groups they don't like, such as nazis or religious zealots. Maybe they have a vague dedication toward Enlightenment principles and don't want to be regarded as incurious dullards. Most typically, they're just afraid of the axe slicing both ways, and they want to make sure that the precedent they're establishing for others will not be applied to themselves.
Anyone who engages with this honestly for more than a few minutes will realize that censorship is much more complicated, especially in regards to its informal and social dimensions. We can all agree that society simply would not function if everyone said whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. You might think your boss is a moron or your wife's dress doesn't look flattering, but you realize that such tidbits are probably best kept to yourself.
Again, this is a two-way proposition that everyone is seeking to balance. Do you really want people to verbalize every time they dislike or disagree with you? I sure as hell don't. And so, as part of a social compact, we learn to self-censor. Sometimes this is to the detriment of ourselves and our communities. Most often, however, it's just a price we have to pay in order to keep things from collapsing.
But as systems, large and small, grow increasingly more insane and untenable, so do the comportment standards of speech. The disconnect between America's reality and the image Americans have of themselves has never been more plainly obvious, and so striving for situational equanimity is no longer good enough. We can't just pretend cops aren't racist and the economy isn't run by venal retards or that the government places any value on the life of its citizens. There's too much evidence that contradicts all that, and the evidence is too omnipresent. There's too many damn internet videos, and only so many of them can be cast as Russian disinformation. So, sadly, we must abandon our old ways of communicating and embrace instead systems that are even more unstable, repressive, and insane than the ones that were previously in place.
Until very, very recently, nuance and big-picture, balanced thinking were considered signs of seriousness, if not intelligence. Such considerations were always exploited by shitheads to obfuscate things that otherwise would have seemed much less ambiguous, yes, but this fact alone does not mitigate the potential value of such an approach to understanding the world--especially since the stuff that's been offered up to replace it is, by every worthwhile metric, even worse.
So let's not pretend I'm Malcolm Gladwell or some similarly slimy asshole seeking to "both sides" a clearcut moral issue. Let's pretend I am me. Flash back to about a year ago, when there was real, widespread, and sustained support for police reform. Remember that? Seems like forever ago, man, but it was just last year... anyhow, now, remember what happened? Direct, issues-focused attempts to reform policing were knocked down. Blotted out. Instead, we were told two things: 1) we had to repeat the slogan ABOLISH THE POLICE, and 2) we had to say it was actually very good and beautiful and nonviolent and valid when rioters burned down poor neighborhoods.
Now, in a relatively healthy discourse, it might have been possible for someone to say something like "while I agree that American policing is heavily violent and racist and requires substantial reforms, I worry that taking such an absolutist point of demanding abolition and cheering on the destruction of city blocks will be a political non-starter." This statement would have been, in retrospect, 100000000% correct. But could you have said it, in any worthwhile manner? If you had said something along those lines, what would the fallout had been? Would you have lost friends? Your job? Would you have suffered something more minor, like getting yelled at, told your opinion did not matter? Would your acquaintances still now--a year later, after their political project has failed beyond all dispute--would they still defame you in "whisper networks," never quite articulating your verbal sins but nonetheless informing others that you are a dangerous and bad person because one time you tried to tell them how utterly fucking self-destructive they were being?
It is undeniably clear that last year's most-elevated voices were demanding not reform but catharsis. I hope they really had fun watching those immigrant-owned bodegas burn down, because that’s it, that will forever be remembered as the most palpable and consequential aspect of their shitty, selfish movement. We ain't reforming shit. Instead, we gave everyone who's already in power a blank check to fortify that power to a degree you and I cannot fully fathom.
But, oh, these people knew what they were doing. They were good little boys and girls. They have been rewarded with near-total control of the national discourse, and they are all either too guilt-ridden or too stupid to realize how badly they played into the hands of the structures they were supposedly trying to upend.
And so left-liberalism is now controlled by people whose worldview is equal parts superficial and incoherent. This was the only possible outcome that would have let the system continue to sustain itself in light of such immense evidence of its unsustainability without resulting in reform, so that's what has happened.
But... okay, let's take a step back. Let's focus on what I wanted to talk about when I started this.
I came across a post today from a young man who claimed that his high school English department head had been removed from his position and had his tenure revoked for refusing to remove three books from classrooms. This was, of course, fallout from the ongoing debate about Critical Race Theory. Two of those books were Marjane Satropi's Persepolis and, oh boy, The Diary of Anne Frank. Fuck. Jesus christ, fuck.
Now, here's the thing... When Persepolis was named, I assumed the bannors were anti-CRT. The graphic novel does not deal with racism all that much, at least not as its discussed contemporarily, but it centers an Iranian girl protagonist and maybe that upset Republican types. But Anne Frank? I'm sorry, but the most likely censors there are liberal identiarians who believe that teaching her diary amounts to centering the suffering of a white woman instead of talking about the One Real Racism, which must always be understood in an American context. The super woke cult group Black Hammer made waves recently with their #FuckAnneFrank campaign... you'd be hard pressed to find anyone associated with the GOP taking a firm stance against the diary since, oh, about 1975 or so.
So which side was it? That doesn't matter. What matters is, I cannot find out.
Now, pro-CRT people always accuse anti-CRT people of not knowing what CRT is, and then after making such accusations they always define CRT in a way that absolutely is not what CRT is. Pro-CRTers default to "they don't want students to read about slavery or racism." This is absolutely not true, and absolutely not what actual CRT concerns itself with. Slavery and racism have been mainstays of American history curriucla since before I was born. Even people who barely paid attention in school would admit this, if there were any more desire for honesty in our discourse.
My high school history teacher was a southern "lost causer" who took the south's side in the Civil War but nonetheless provided us with the most descriptive and unapologetic understandings of slavery's brutalities I had heard up until that point. He also unambiguously referred to the nuclear attacks on Hiroshmia and Nagasaki as "genocidal." Why? Because most people's politics are idiosyncratic, and because you cannot genuinely infer a person to believe one thing based on their opinion of another, tangentially related thing. The totality of human understanding used to be something open-minded people prided themselves on being aware of, believe it or not...
This is the problem with CRT. This is is the motivation behind the majority of people who wish to ban it. It’s not because they are necessarily racist themselves. It’s because they recognize, correctly, that the now-ascendant frames for understanding social issues boils everything down to a superficial patina that denies not only the realities of the systems they seek to upend but the very humanity of the people who exist within them. There is no humanity without depth and nuance and complexities and contradictions. When you argue otherwise, people will get mad and fight back.
And this is the most bitter irony of this idiotic debate: it was never about not wanting to teach the sinful or embarrassing parts of our history. That was a different debate, one that was settled and won long ago. It is instead an immense, embarrassing overreach on behalf of people who have bullied their way to complete dominance of their spheres of influence within media and academe assuming they could do the same to everyone else. Some of its purveyors may have convinced themselves that getting students to admit complicity in privilege will prevent police shootings, sure. But I know these people. I’ve spoken to them at length. I’ve read their work. The vast, vast majority of them aren’t that stupid. The point is to exert control. The point is to make sure they stay in charge and that nothing changes. The point is failure.
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