#i read this post three times before i realized it said fuck and not luck
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The Witcher & why fanon and canon are not as separate as they are in other medias
Okay so I just answered and reblogged this poll about what parts of the Witcher you interact with (fanon vs canon) and it made me realize that a lot of fans might not be aware of the fact that fanon and canon are not neatly seperated when it comes to the Witcher. It’s kind of a clusterfuck actually. So allow me to attempt to explain it. Before the post, let me make sure everyone understands that I am referencing the translations of the books. I have not read them in the original Polish. If anyone has and some of what I say is inaccurate, please let me know. Extremely long post ahead.
First, we have to accept the fact that we are working with not one but three different canons. The books are, of course, the original canon. It is what everything else stems from. The games are often considered a follow up but are not necessarily canon to the books and were not intended to be. The original Witcher game was never intended to be a sequel to the books - that’s why Yennefer and Ciri are basically never mentioned. However, as the second and third game developed, the creators shifted gears and focused on creating a cohesive story set after the events of the books, Now, many if not most fans forget this. Then there is the show canon, which draws from the books but is largely it’s own thing.
So what is the “real” canon? For some, the answer is anything written by Sapkowski...but there are stories set on the Continent and written by Sapkowski that are, by and large, considered superfluous to canon such as the Something Ends, Something Begins short story which Sapkowski wrote as a wedding gift for some friends. Beyond that, there is debate as to whether Sapkowski’s final depiction of Geralt is well...Geralt. While many book fans tend to believe that the Geralt met by Nimue at the end of Season if Storms is an illusion, I have spoken with many who believe it to be the real Geralt. So which is it? Sapkowski certainly hasn’t said as far as I am aware, so good luck figuring it out. And if Sapkowski’s work is the be all end all of canon...what are the games?
Are they a form of fanon that Sapkowski has given his blessing to? Nope. Sapkoski hates video games. Like there are decisions he made in Season of Storms (published after the first two Witcher games) that I’m fairly certain he made specifically to fuck with the game producers (like Dandelion being a blonde for example). Everything I’ve ever learned about the man suggests he would do this. And yet Season of Storms also hands the game producers their golden goose: a Sapkowski-written ending where Geralt doesn’t die, where he continues to travel and hunt monsters. Which is exactly what Geralt did in the games. And after that Sapkowksi actually met with some of the producers for the third game, something I don’t believe he did for the first two (feel free to correct me if he did). So did Sapkowski take inspiration from the games for this ending? It’s possible. I personally don’t think it likely but we know it’s possible because of a certain character in Season of Storms: Brehen.
Brehen, for those of you who may not remember/know, is a Cat witcher that Geralt meets at the very end of Season of Storms. Now this is important, Geralt’s meeting with Brehen is the first time ever that Sapkowski insinuates there are different schools of Witchers. And you might be thinking “What about the medallions of different animals that Bonhart had?” It isn’t ever really implied they’re from different schools. Coen, who has a griffon, is shown with the wolves all the same during Blood of Elves. Of course, the game producers had already decided to take the different medallions as representations of schools but It is only when Brehen begins to use the word “us” that there is a confirmed implication of schools by Sapkowski. Is this proof that Sapkowski used the games as inspiration for Season of Storms? Not at all. What it is, is solid evidence that both the game producers and Sapkowski had been influenced by a third party: the pre-CDPR comic run.
Now, this is where things get interesting. The pre-CDPR comic run is not that well known outside of Poland (and perhaps even in Poland, I am not sure). I discovered their existence on the Witcher subreddit and promptly read the fan translations of them that you can find online. Only one of the six comics released between 1993 and 1995 is an original story. This comic, Zdrada or Betrayal, is where the story of the Cat and Wolf tournament often is from. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go read basically any fanfiction with Aiden in it. It will more than likely be brought up. This comic is the first instance of a school system like the one we have now. Now, this comic was based on an idea by Sapkowski. He gave the author of the comic run, Maciej Parowski, a basic idea and Parowski expanded upon it. To what extent Parowski expanded the idea isn’t really known. The schools could be entirely his own invention, but it is more likely that Sapkowski suggested them. It is extremely likely, however, that Parowski’s characterization of the Cats as a school influenced Sapkowski - especially considering the 18 year gap between the publication of Zdrada and the publication of Season of Storms. So when did Parowski’s fanon interpretation of Sapkowski’s outline become canon? Did it become canon? I personally consider it canon but not everyone does.
Essentially what it boils down to is that there is a high chance that Parowski’s fanon directly influenced both Season of Storms and the Witcher games. And yes you can argue that Parowski’s work isn’t fanon because it was based on an idea by Sapkowksi but...that’s what all fanworks are - stories based on the original ideas of the author. The same can be argued about the show. Large parts of the show are Lauren Hissrich’s fanon interpretation of Sapkowski’s work yet it is a canon in its own right.
In conclusion, Sapkowski never avoided fanwork like say, Neil Gaiman. In fact, he actively encouraged it in the case of Parowski and Hissrich. Whether or not he ever encouraged the game producers in any capacity is...highly debatable. There’s some serious tension there guys. I personally think that he did with his choice in how to end Season of Storms but that’s just me. From what I know of Sapkowski, the man is, quite frankly, far too proud to ever admit to being wrong about video games and the producers so draw your own conclusions on that one.
But yeah, fanon has had a serious influence on canon in the case of the Witcher and there are so many different canons that separating the two entirely is more or less impossible. And I haven’t even talked about the pre-CDPR TTRPG, the CDPR TTRPG, the mobile gwent game, or the CDPR comic run, all of which fall into the liminal space of “not fanon but not canon either.”
Please feel free to correct me if any of this is wrong or if you have read the original Polish copies of the books and some stuff I’ve talked about is translation error. Also if anyone has a translation of the pre-CDPR TTRPG stuff please contact me. I would do unreasonable things for a translation of them and would be eternally in your debt.
#the witcher#the witcher books#the witcher games#the witcher comics#the witcher ttrpg#canon vs fanon#and the way those two intertwine when it comes to the witcher#i could probably talk about this for a lot longer#but i am tired#spiral's thoughts#media analysis#the witcher spoilers#the witcher book spoilers
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No seriously [climbs out of bed] I've been trying to sleep but Logic Mortal Brain is trying to find Reason in her Madness. I side-hat for the mad hatter himself and even he has a big shrug emoji while trying to dump her. He just says try not to find Reason in it, but I can not. Can not not. Can not not seek Reason here. Woman wtf is you doing.
After I laughed off her want to pull me into a lawsuit game, did she really try to put out a restraining order against untagged posts on my own blog?
Like she's gonna restraining order me, Hermes, and the collective unconscious? She's gonna lawsuit herself out of her tartarian fate? This is like when she tried to sue the mechanic in a loop for half a year but infinitely more retarded, on Eternity.
Can't hold her own ego on her own blog from the reflections of her own lies but she's gonna try to lawsuit me about it. "Dear judge he cast witchcraft on me that made me tell the truth."
"Dear judge I'm hexed for the rest of my life and it's his fault." "Um... yeah, okay. Your response?" "She's insane, your honor, and built a religious cult between her and her new spouse idolizing my self image from 2009 and my villain from 2001. Then stalked me for three years." what. "I said what I said."
"Dear judge he says meanie truths about me on his own journal. Make him stop." Why are you reading his journal for three years. "Um..."
QED, I'm the one that needs the restraining order. Against YOU. But I took it to a higher order. Catch up, buttercup.
Welcome to literal hell. And the fun trick is, you've been here a long time. Told you at the start whichever me was having a hard time catching up on how hard you've fucked up. We're all caught up now sweetie. It's too late.
No amount of filed suits will fill the abyss inside you, or fix the crack in your delusional faith chassis, or your shattered ego or deleted blog. Your world of shadows is as hollow to you as you are now. And you have to live with that. And with my shadows pushing you to and fro as your gods of delusion bound into your uncentered pyramids.
I told you, Mercury and Saturn were arguing your fate.
This is it.
You've been here before, Shealyn. Trying to lawsuit your way out of a mistake in a loop, not knowing how to act, or running away from the act. You would twirl your hair back then, but weren't ripping it out.
I'm sorry your current pile of trash you call a husband doesn't know how to Act. No wonder you're pulling your hair out. You downgraded into clueless deluluville and I leveled up once you were out of my way and got the cosmic glo-up. Sucks for you, you cock gobbling plagiaristic octopus-jibberish spewing purple catted biiiiiiiiiitch.
Those are still my air jordans. I'm still motherfucking coming for them. You still know the fucking truth. But daddy taught me a fun way. Ever play AFK Journey? It's like that.
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"No judge sir, I'm not a controlling thundercunt at all sir, I'm just trying to gag a man that left me three years ago on his own journal I choose to read."
Well... why do you choose to read it.
"Because he's telling the truth and I need to know what part of my wicked past to defend against and spin new lies for oops I said that out loud."
Has he been talking about you all 3 years? No sir but 3 whole months. Sir she spent eight months in a furry porn server trying to find my business investor after 3 years of her harassing every group I follow online to do social damage to me. I spent 2 1/2 months telling the truth and practicing my actual religion she corrupts, without fear. Her reaction is to silence me.
Yeah sure. Gag order me off my own blog. Good luck, you controlling, abusive cunt. Delusional piece of shit this close to having a mental breakdown because you realize everything you have is a lie. Fucking everything. Your god is a man and he hates you and it's your fault. Your relationship is two self justifying vultures deluding themselves into the deepest pits of medication. And ur bald now.
I could have gone off on you at any point. I left you to your fucking Barbie Dreamhouse delusions. But you couldn't fucking control yourself.
Shattering your entire world was our only choice to end this. But you're still the ditz that fucking drove right into the biggest cosmological Fuck You Alignment of the brotherhoods possible. Cuz you can't stay off this fine ass dick.
No seriously in all the retarded moments for you to be retarded in, that was a fucking singularity of retardation.
No like it's literally a singularity, there's a surprising amount of those, but you wouldn't comprehend it. Anyway, I'm already offboarding the godbus, the others aboard can do as they wilt, last reading is the 10th. It's over girlie, your Everything is just Over. However many days months or years you have left breathing will be in observation of how Over it all is for you, each small achievement you overpraise going up like meaningless smoke in this maze of death. Because you won't accept the light for it to be life.
I used to be like you. Then I grew up, I'm just trying to get this septic backup out of my mainline, and it's name is Shealyn. But if I Am I Am, she's me, and look how far she's been processed already. The rest will do the work for me after, my part in this is almost done.
I know I know Crowley, enough of Because or trying to find Reason but oh my me what.
Guys bad news about the divine, it's a clown show. And you're already inout it.
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Friendo Chaaaaaaaase
Do you have a favourite piece of LOOOOOOORE for your OCs that you're itching to sharing with somebody?
<3 - Mitch
*STARING AT YOU INTENSELY*
Y E S- I mean, ahem, yes- yes I do- I am totally normal about my OCs and sonas and things- mhm,, anyways-
Uh it's hard for me to talk about one without hearing like a specific name involved (I have a LOT of OCs/Sonas Friendo Mitch gfjdkdfks)
But I can try to for this post- And ya know since Spooky Month has literally just latched onto me and wont let me go no matter where I try- I'll talk about CC, I WAS going to talk about Alan too but this post will already be too long but if ya want to really hear about Alan too u or someone can send an ask)
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(A keep reading bc this is going to be a long one, Friendo Mitch so prepare yourself!!! You and others betta prepare!!! Also edit: I realized you said Favorite piece of lore gjkfddkfjsd I apologize in advance for this clusterfuck of a post y'all are about to see)
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ALSO ALSO TWs: Mentions of Kidnapping, Drugging, Murder/Animal Murder, and Cannibalism (the lads WILL be the lads)
CC of course for starters because he is well, hes not the OG (I think a lot of people if they pay attention to my content would think CC's the og spooky month oc/sona of mine but nope, the FIRST SM Character I made was a pathetic wet cat of a man named Frederick but he has no lore, thats the point- anyways)
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CC is the one I use for selfshipping purposes most of the time,, hes- okay well hes oblivious to the danger HE could be in/has been in, he's a dumb luck dude who has survived by that ALONE, I feel kinda bad bc he has no like,, hes not related to anything canon in the spookyverse,, like hes got no part to play in the canon storyline in the long run-
So keep in mind this is all PURELY me, my canon gfhjdkdjfs
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The first one CC met of the bunch of stinky bastards was Dexter, unlike in canon- Dexter was found by CC in the dumpster, like he literally took a look at this perfectly in good condition and cute doll and said ...Aww, your cute- you're coming home with me! (Dumb idiot didn't even see the box had been stabbed with a knife so many times)
So he brought Dex home, got him cleaned up n stuff, completely unaware Dexter is sentient and ya know,, alive,, and he just goes about his night completely fucking oblivious to the doll trying to kill him (Btw, CC has three dogs, Cash, Winnie The Pooch, and Tootsie Roll)
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Dex when he couldn't get to CC ...Well, he is kinda,, not the greatest for animals but the moment CC saw this, he fucking slammed that tiny bitch against the wall like "OH H E L L NO, NOT M Y BABIES..." Instead of like ya know being normal and trying to throw Dex out, he tells Dexter to go let off some fucking steam and then come back when hes done so they can talk
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Dex is shocked and completely dumbfounded that CC tells him to come b a c k but because Dexter is genuinely a lil curious even tho he denied it, he does so- and comes back and CC lays down the law for Dexter, that if hes gonna be staying here, his dogs are OFF limits, you cant hurt his sons
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Dexter is completely at a loss and goes basically like WTF DO YOU MEAN IF IM GOING TO STAY HERE, WHY ARENT YOU KICKING ME OUT? WHY DONT YOU LIKE HATE ME,, OR FEAR ME OR SOMETHING- (oh btw I forgot to mention CC had called Dex a cute doll, cute, adorable, etc before this incident took place,, which is a big thing bc in canon peeps usually call him an ugly doll which ...he is but i love him)
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CC just shrugs at him and tells him that he likes him, he thinks hes kinda cute, he seems like good company when hes not angry n such and Dex just goes . . . . . . Alright, fine, deal- fhjgdkdgjfs and that's how CC acquires husband number u n o (I do have an AU where CC dates Dexter when hes not possessing that Happy Fella Doll, literally nothing special its just an AU where Dex is alive)
Dexter also felt guilty for how they first met for the longest time, apologizing and making it up to CC in the long run, hell even now he can get a little scared sometimes that he'll wind up losing control (even tho Bob and or Frank have both said they'll fucking punt him if he tries ...CC didn't approve of that...)
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CC has made Dexter his old exterminating outfit as well, he seen ADs and pictures of what Dex looked like before the doll possession (he has found that bit out,, I forgot gfhfjkdfgds he found that bit out and feels terrible for Dexter, the way he went and now that hes stuck in a body he'd rather not have)
So CC decided to sew up a lil present for Dexter, he made the old exterminating outfit and even his fucking bag to the best of his ability, when he showed Dexter that surprise, he literally fucking cried and hugged CC so much after that
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Next up, CC met Frank in quite possibly the dumbest way possible,, CC loves to stroll at night alone and he saw an ice cream truck in the distance, he got excited in hopes he'd get some late night sweets, and he knocked on the window ...When nobody answered he got curious, wondering if this was abandoned orrr not
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It's not... He goes inside only to discover Frank, literally... Well doing his stuff, the kidnapping thing- the druggin bit- ya know,, EITHER WAY- CC saw this, Frank looked back at him (them silly lil fnaf lookin ass eyes just wide as could be) CC was standing there before literally just blinking and being like ...wow,, your hot, and tall, and beefy anyways can I get some ice cream big guy???
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Frank deadpans at CC (HE SAYS THAT BTW, OUT LOUD, NO FILTER) and just literally blinks before grinning "Hehe... Sure..." CC's encounter with Frank was the most fucking tame one out of the bunch, Frank did question if CC was going to tell anyone bout this but CC just shook his head 'nah man, idc lol oop' and then Frank gave him a fucking ice cream, free of charge
...NOT- NOTHINGS IN IT BTW DONT WORRY GHJFKJGFHDFKS its legit just actual ice cream
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CC then wanders off after that but Frank p much comes back to chill and hang with CC ...He does have some major beef with Dexter when he sees him at first tho like ...YOU, YOUR THE ONE THAT BIT ME, YEAH AND YOUR THE ONE THAT PUNCHED ME (before they became buddies with one another, when CC was not around, they'd fuckin fight,, have a full on smackdown and then when CC was around they'd act like angels)
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After awhile of hanging out, I don't have specifics on how it happened actually, but there's husband number 2 for CC- and then finally,, the one you'll be a lil familiar with Friendo Mitch!! Its Bob time!!
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Sooo CC and the two lads, Frank n Dex went to Boys n Grills bc they h u n g y, Frank drove em of course in his van,, they got inside, immediately noticed CC has a fucking crush on the big guy and just INSTANTLY tease him about it (Btw if I haven't made it crystal clear, CC is Polyamorous)
CC gets a lil shy bc the boys are fucking teasing him over this and then they order food, CC orders just fries bc he cant eat burgers or his tummy hurty, Dexter doesn't eat bc well, hes a doll now- and Frank gets a burger
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After they ate, the two literally fucking let CC work his magic,, just being like you got this lil man,, before they just fucking left (...JUST BACK TO THE VAN HJGFKDJDGF T-THEY DIDNT LEAVE HIM A T BOYS AND GRILLS) and then CC was alone with Bob.
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Bob had been noticing CC was shy with him this entire time,, he had noticed it from the start and well all I'll say is the fucker didnt help matters- but also he thought CC was nervous about him which is why he decided to try scarin CC with some of his cannibal facts but CC is again a fucking dumbass
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He INSTANTLY lights up and takes out a notepad and goes "Tell me more!" he's interested in the facts bc well hes a horror writer and Bob is giving him some good pointers for that topic ...Bob actually gets a lil happy someone enjoys his facts for once but also weirded out bc wtf ur supposed to be scared? ...He tells him facts for a bit before CC says he has to go, that it was nice meeting him!
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Later that night... Bob in his true fashion had broken into CC's home bc I mean, if I haven't established it also yet,, I have picked the worst three to latch onto, they aren't good (...well to CC they are, I need to clarify btw, they are NOT mean or abusive or some weird shit to CC, they are genuinely loving, caring partners to him BUT!!! CC is not going to try and change them either, he loves them just for them, he's kinda,, mm I wanna say CC is morally grey if thats the right term to use,, bc he wont necessarily do anything bad ..Unless you hurt his dogs or husbands... but usually he's morally grey)
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ANYWAYS- Dexter heard it but he just thought it was one of CC's dogs messing around, bc he also heard some barking from the dogs, he knew Cash sometimes gets late night zoomies, but a few mins after CC gets up bc sometimes he cant sleep and just decides fuck it, imma head out-
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so CC heads into the kitchen to get himself some water and then encounters a big ol devil fella, breathing heavily and standing there in the kitchen, turning to face him, before Bob can even say a fact, CC waves with a polite smile "Oh hey Bob, what's up?" The man fucking looks shocked "...How'd ya know it was me?!"
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CC woulda chuckled at that and been like "The eyes, the smile, the heavy breathing" Bob gets a bit angry bc like ok how dare you not be fuckin scared of me I BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE, I CAN LITERALLY COOK YOU IN YOUR OWN KITCHEN-
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CC isn't scared, he just says Bob is hot and then goes past him, giving him a pat on the cheek to get something to drink from the fridge, Bob is just,, steaming over there,, like wtf is wrong with this guy,, he has no idea he could be in literal danger rn- CC is just treating him so friendly, kindly, either way- CC offers Bob some candy by the end of this
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Bob just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before just taking the candy bowl in its entirety and just munching down with a grin- hes sitting at the table with CC whose drinking some milk while Dexter gets up and Frank does, they see CC sitting here with the fucking Devil Butcher himself
and they just scream "CC,, THATS THE GODDAMN CANNIBAL FROM THE NEWS, WTH ARE YOU DOING?" CC just shakes his head "It's fine, it's just Bob" and then Dexter and Frank realize "...wait shit fr?" Bob takes his mask off and just goes "Sup?"
...And so husband number three slowly gets required, not right off the bat btw,, CC didn't just automatically form a relationship fgjkdlgdjfsd thats not how it works
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A funny bit I had for CC meeting Bob lore was that Frank talked to Bob afterwards like "So your that cannibal, yeah?" Bob nods "Mhm, did ya enjoy your burger, big man?" Frank is drinking something and then pauses as he slowly turns to Bob "...What was in that burger?" Bob doesn't answer, he just grins and Frank just turns to him fully in fear "BOB, WHAT WAS IN MY FUCKING BURGER...?!"
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CC's 'lore' and this entire bit of 'lore' is literally just so fucking silly,, this is so OOC compared to literally ANYTHING canon but like I said,, CC was never made to go for any canonical spooky month storyline,, he was just made for one: My little selfshipper heart
The Silliest Lads get into all sorts of shenanigans behind the scenes,, I just have nothing posted about it vjklcfjhdfksld
now if you want something a BIT closer to any sort of canon bullshit in SM, well, if you or anyone else asks/sends another ask,, I'll talk about Alan next, he's got a storyline attached to Bob but its WAY MORE in character and canonical
I WILL WARN THO BEFOREHAND- Again,, that will also have cannibalism talk and its actually some pretty dark shit,, hes the angst OC I got,, hes been used for nothin but angst
@kayfabebabe
Also tagging you just in case bc I didn't type this up for tumblr just not to notify ya lmao,, thank you btw for asking Friendo Mitch!!! Ya got me all happy and just exhilarated to talk about my funky lil guy here! <3
#Chase Answers#thank you friendo mitch <3#im not even going to put this clusterfuck in the main tags of the sm stuff#it'll probably wind up there anyways with how many times i said their names but either way#spooky month oc#there- ok ONE tag#The Silliest Lads <3#fhjdkdjfs im genuinely so sorry for how incredibly long this is but once i get asked i dont stfu fjdklfjds
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Whumptober 2022 Master Post!
Well, some things didn't go as planned, and there were a lot of catch-up days, but here we are! 44,562 words, 17 fics, 31 days!
A couple of stories will have future chapters, but the primary Whumptober entries are finished.
Read the whole series on AO3
Tumblr post list under the cut:
No. 1: This Wasn't Supposed to Happen (One Piece)
In which Roronoa Zoro has a surprisingly normal weakness, and Tony Tony Chopper vows to never give him medicine ever again.
No. 2-6: The Walrider (Supernatural x Outlast) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)
An investigation brings the Winchesters to Mount Massive Asylum, a supposed research hospital deep in the Colorado mountains. But what they thought was a run-of-the-mill exorcism turns into a terrifying tour of hell on earth as they come face-to-face with the inmates of a place built to feed off of their worst nightmares.
And deep at the heart of it lies something ancient and dark, waiting for its chance to walk the earth again.
No. 7: The Way You Shake and Shiver (Fire Emblem: Three Hopes)
All Felix wanted was to have some time alone to think about his brother. Instead he finds himself sharing the burden of grief with Sylvain, as they've both faced loss of family in one way or another.
No. 8-12: Nice Day for a...Wait for It (Supernatural: The Flare 'Verse) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)
Sam and Eileen's wedding is just a few days away, and Dean and Castiel join them for some relaxation at the hotel before the ceremony. But Winchester Luck strikes again, and they find themselves at the center of disaster as secrets are uncovered. Cas has gotten stronger since the ritual that tore his grace away and left him human, but will it be enough when he's targeted by a malevolent spirit?
No. 13 / 30: Can't Make an Omelet Without Breaking a Few Legs (One Piece) (No. 13) (No. 30)
During battle, Sanji is captured and tortured mercilessly for information about the Germa 66 fleet. Help is on the way…if he can just hold on. (Part 3 coming soon)
No. 14-18: Thicker Than Water (Fire Emblem: Three Hopes) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)
Three weeks ago, Margrave Gautier ordered Sylvain to find Miklan and recruit him for the war effort. He hasn't been seen or heard from since.
Now, Felix and Shez race to find him before Miklan finally does away with his brother for good…or worse.
No. 19: Enough is Enough (Supernatural)
It was there, face-to-face with the devil, while Lucifer stared at him out of Cas's blue eyes, that Dean finally realized the truth. Maybe they weren't so different…and maybe that was the real problem.
No. 20: It's Been a Long Fucking Day (Critical Role: Campaign 3)
The good news: Dorian's back!
The bad news: he's been kidnapped.
The worse news: Ashton's the hostage negotiator
...I'm sure they have things under control.
No. 21: Famous Last Words (My Hero Academia)
Midoriya wasn't entirely sure how he'd been talked into this, but here he was with Kacchan, Todoroki, and Kirishima hunting for ghosts at an old farmhouse. It was just one haunted house…what could possibly go wrong?
No. 22: Pick Your Poison (Supernatural: The Flare 'Verse)
The hits just keep coming. Cas comes down with an unknown stomach bug, but at least the Winchesters are there to take care of him.
No. 23: At the End of Her Rope (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
A letter from a relative has Ingrid spiraling into despair and uncertainty about her lot in life. At least she has good friends to lean on in times like this.
No. 24: Fireworks in Reverse (Supernatural: The Flare 'Verse)
“To know the weave of the universe and then be forced into a single thread.” He swallowed, shuddered, and finally focused on Dean again. “I used to be the size of your Chrysler building,” he added in a whisper.
No. 25: Silence is Golden (Supernatural)
“This is Heaven’s mercy, Castiel,” Michael said. Cas lay stunned beneath his foot, eyes wide and darting, throat trickling blood. “Be grateful that I have left you this much.”
No. 26: No One Left Behind (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Annette is gravely wounded in battle. All seems lost, but her king is there to save the day.
No. 27 / 29: Pushed to the Limit / What Doesn't Kill Me... (Critical Role: Campaign 3)
After a harrowing battle, the Bell's Hells escape by the skin of their teeth. Wounded and exhausted, they turn to the one safe place they have to lick their wounds and get some rest.
After all, how bad could it be to sleep in the portable hole?
No. 28: It's Just the Tip of the Iceberg (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Ashe has a headache, but it's never just a headache. It's pain, and fear, and isolation, and knowing he's a fraud. It's doubt, and self-loathing, and the need to be left alone mingled with the desire to be comforted. And into that twist of thought and terror walks Dedue, a gentle anchor to pull Ashe back into himself.
No. 31: Light at the End of the Tunnel (Supernatural)
Dean has one last chance to rescue Castiel from the Empty. (Parts two and three coming soon)
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HSLOT WASHINGTON D.C.
Like, comment, share, and come talk if you enjoyed the fic.
*inspired by this *
I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. (plus my bday is coming up in a week 😌)
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Despite Harry being less than active on social media, it doesn’t mean that he didn’t creep through Instagram and Twitter after the shows.
He used a fake account to scroll, constantly liking pictures and videos of his wife dancing or funny fan signs to his phone.
Tonight, after the Philly show, YN was already fast asleep in their tour bus bed - she had curled into Harry with her leg between his and her head on his bicep.
Harry was trending on Twitter for his show, however, he scrolled a bit further and noticed that a hashtag called #JusticeforYN was trending.
When he clicked on the link, it took him down a rabbit hole of screenshots and videos from the concert.
It doesn’t take long to see what had happened, it was a girl recording herself on Snapchat from the pit during the concert.
The ‘fan’ held up her phone enough that you could see her but also YN, Jeff, Harry Lambert, and Tommy in the background behind the pit.
Adore You started blasting through his AirPod and the girl recorded his wife dancing with their friends - he gets distracted for a moment, watching her have fun and sing along.
He loved her so fucking much.
But then, it’s the next clip, and the captioned text on the video said ‘Harry’s Whore.’
The small smile on his face disappears instantly when he sees where this is going.
In the next few segments, the girl is screaming things at YN who can’t even hear them because of the music but it’s still completely disrespectful.
“Hi, Harry’s Whore!”
“Get the fuck outta here, nobody wants you here!”
“Fuck you!”
It makes Harry rage, even from the comfort of his bunk with his perfect love, and then he digs deeper to find his real fans defending YN.
YN was pretty loved by the fans. She was always kind, posted pictures of Harry (because he rarely did), and made really kickass merch.
He finds the Twitter account of the girl who harassed his wife, her name was Gina, and he read through her tweets.
She was going to three more of the concerts - following them from Philly to Detroit.
One of her tweets said…
‘If you guys are mad about what I said during the last concert, just wait what I have to say to her next time.’
And he also finds out that she had won a meet and greet for the DC show through the record label and Harry already knew what he was gonna do.
-
YN wakes up before Harry, sitting in the small living area of the bus - watching a cooking show on the television and still slightly dozing in and out of sleep.
“Hi bun,” She mumbles, opening her arms and legs to let Harry flop between them. Chest to chest and he was a bit to heavy for this but he liked laying like this.
“Mornin’, my love,” Harry rasps, peppering kisses all over her jaw and the smooth column of her neck until she giggles.
“Shouldn’t you be saying good morning to your whore on tour?” YN replies, her voice is light and unbothered - obviously found out the online drama.
Harry tenses up, looks up at her seriously, and tells her, “M’gonna take care of it.”
“Don’t, it’s fine, bubs,” YN assures him, she’s smiling softly and Harry just…he is so obsessed with the woman below him that he has to kiss her for a long moment.
“No, it’s not. I’m not going t’let someone treat m’wife like that. She won tha’ meet and greet. I’m gonna have a talk w’her when she comes backstage,” Harry tells her, lips brushing on every word and he can help but grind his hips forward against her.
“Always so horny in the morning,” Yn teases but still lets her thighs fall open a little bit more so that the only barrier is their underwear.
“Can y’blame me? Look wha’ I wake up to,” He rumbles, voice getting illogically deeper and raspier when he speaks.
It’s not long before he tugs his briefs down just enough and her panties to the side to get inside her with his lips glued to hers.
He’s whispering things that would make him blush with embarrassment if anyone heard him.
“Can’t believe y’mine after all this time.”
“Y’my perfect match, on m’knees for you whenever you ask.”
“Arena full of people and all I see is you, baby.”
“Feel like heaven.”
“Only y’make me feel like this.”
“Come on, stubborn girl. Show me y’love me.”
-
Harry looks insanely stunning in his purple outfit but honestly - YN always steals the show (without even trying). ***
They’re in a common area, waiting for the meet and greet with the fans - it’s comical how Gina’s face drops when she arrives to see Harry facing away from everyone with YN giggle as he crowds her up against a wall.
They can hear Harry murmur, “Y’alway showin’ me up. Only gonna be able to look at y’during the show, bug.”
“Harry,” Jeff calls to his client, making him turn around and his eyes instantly search the small groups of fans until his eyes land on a girl dressed in a bright pink fishnet dress and boa.
“You,” Harry points at her, his face isn’t giving away any emotion, “Can I have a chat w’you?”
“S-sure,” She stutters, eyes wide and excited - oblivious that Harry actually knows what she had been posted on social media.
The singer takes her off to the side, YN’s eyes keep darting to them as she chats with the friendly fans who are complimenting her dress and her merch designs.
Frank is standing near Harry, prepared to escort the girl out after the conversation.
“Can we get a selfie?” Gina asks, pulling out her cellphone.
“No,” Harry replies seriously, “You also are going to get escorted out of this arena and banned from any of my future concerts.”
“Wh-what?” The girl stumbles, eyes watering as she looks at him in confusion and dismay.
“I need to make this a safe space for everyone who comes to my concerts. That especially includes m’wife. And I don’t feel comfortable havin’ someone scream at m’wife and posting nasty things on social media attending my concert.”
Realization flashes across Gina’s face, “I’m so so sorry. I can apologize. I really didn’t mean-“
“No. I don’t think my whore of a wife would want to hear it,” Harry chuckles with a nasty edge, “Y’can fuck off now. Go find a new artist to harass ‘cause if I see y’face at one of m’concerts - y’getting kicked out immediately.”
Frank appears beside them, gently guiding the hysterical girl out of the room while the fans look back in confusion.
They forget all about it once Harry saunters up to them and gives them a crooked smile, “Hi, m’Harry. How are y’guys?”
The fans don’t miss his hand moving quickly to squeeze his wife’s hip in reassurance before starting to sign things and take pictures.
-
Later that night, the disgruntled ‘fan’ sends out a nasty few tweets where real fans go after her and defend YN.
Also, the true fans are cooing over the fact that Harry is such a good husband.
haleyhs22: omg, could you imagine being called out by the nicest guy on this earth
tpwkjess_young: okay but I wish I had the luck that @ynstyles has to get a manz like that 😩
UsWeekly: Harry Styles bans ignorant fan from tour after nasty videos were leaked attacking his wife
strawberriesinsummer: harry is such a VIBE. Like he deadass kicked that girl out and then spent the whole night trying to seduce his wife with his shimmies and winks - he’s the hoe 🍑
-
#update#harry styles#harry styles writing#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fic rec#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles x y/n#hslot harry#hslot!harry#hslotrry#Washington DC hslot#harry styles fic recommendatioin#Harry styles fluff#Harry styles angsts#erodasfishtacos masterlist#harrystylesfanfic#husband!harry#harry styles husband
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No More
from Textbook Love drabble series
pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader
genre: dark romance, college au
synopsis: Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook. Maybe it's a sign you and him weren't meant to be.
warnings: fluff, daddy kink, public sex, degredation, mild angst
word count: 6.7k
a/n: dedicated to a good old gemini, known as pretzel anon. happy birthday! this was shit! 💞 can someone let me know if i made a stupid mistake i was really high while writing this lol
If every couple goes at their own pace, how does one know if the relationship is rushed or a slow burn? What is considered a date, and how many do you have to go on to stop calling it a date? Maybe there’s a book called Dating for Dummies.
Jungkook has taken you out once: a fast food meal on the curb across your campus. Romance is subjective, so you thought it to be very romantic when he fed you a french fry under the streetlights while you were too stuffed to finish your food. “I paid for it,” he’d said, “so you have to eat it all.”
“I’ll eat anything from your hand,” you’d replied bashfully. He got a bit awkward after that, and you regretted saying it until he began feeding you and even holding your drink to your mouth. It was a successful first date, but you wanted it to last longer; feel your heartbeat out of rhythm with every smile he threw at you until the sun came up. Unfortunately for you, he walked you to your dorm a little after dinner.
Luckily for you, you know that wasn’t your first and last date. You’re going to ask him out for the second one because it’s a beautiful day outside and you’ve studied all morning for your finals to clear up your schedule for Jungkook. A walk in the park sounds nice, then a picnic, maybe he’ll even hold your hand! Is it too soon for another date though? It’s only been less than a day…
You’re wearing your favorite outfit for the occasion: a pale blue floral dress that has a rectangular collar on the chest—without cleavage, God forbid—and sandal heels to match. You even styled your hair, and hopefully dressing to impress works; you don’t want him to say no. The current issue is finding Jungkook, and you don’t want to be that person, but you’re avoiding calling him in case you bust him with another girl by searching instead. It makes you guilty for having trust issues, but infidelity has its impacts.
Regardless of your internal concerns, you’re happily humming as you skip on the sidewalk, checking every corner for a certain someone. So far no such luck, and if he isn’t in his dorm, and if he doesn’t go off campus on Sundays, where could he be? In someone else’s dorm…?
“Stop,” you scold yourself with a roll of your eyes and continue your hunt. Next location: the back of the building. The front is cleared out, so is the dorm; what’s happening in the most secretive area? “God,” you sigh. Is this how your thinking process has always been? You hope it is.
The beat in your steps has gone missing when you’re rounding the exterior of the building because of your reluctance. You’re contemplating calling him until you see the back of a man with a girl in front of him by the benches, presumably kissing from the smacking noises. You clench your phone in your dress pocket as you watch them, hesitant to find out who the guy is.
“Jun–” Your voice goes quiet when you see the tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder, peeking out from his black loose tank top. It’s not Jungkook’s tattoo. You bite your lip and ignore the relief in your tight muscles; he’s dating you now, that’s what he said. It’s different, so there’s no point in worrying about his loyalty.
You shake your hands off and walk faster to the taboo spot. There’s no point in worrying, there isn’t, not when he told you he would make it up to you. There’s no reason for your heart to race from expecting the worst when you make the final turn.
A shaky breath leaves you and a small smile follows when you see him smoking with his friends by the back exit. There are four people with him, Taehyung included, who is sharing a cigarette with him. He notices you first because he’s facing you whereas Jungkook is facing the clear forest across. He waves you over with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up.
“I see a pretty girl at 9 o’clock,” Taehyung says and Jungkook turns his head, the rest following his lead. You take tiny strides while approaching them and bite down on a shy smile.
“Hi,” you greet in a small voice. Your eyes immediately lock with Jungkook’s, who looks baffled.
“Hey yourself,” Taehyung greets back. “Care to share?” He holds a burning cigarette out to you with a slight bow, as if offering you a rose.
“She doesn’t smoke,” Jungkook answers for you without looking away. Is he displeased?
“Have you ever tried it?” he persists before inhaling the stick and blowing it in your face. You cough and hold a fist to your mouth, shaking your head. Jungkook slaps the back of his head before taking the cigarette from him and putting it out on the wall he’s leaning against. “You owe me a whole pack now.”
“Care to introduce us?” a guy you don’t know asks curiously.
“Oh, right–”
Jungkook cuts him off before putting names onto the three strangers’ faces, Namjoon being the one who asked for the introduction, and when he comes to you, he says, “Meet… my girlfriend.”
“Thought you said she was a lousy nerd, Taehyung,” Yoongi comments before chugging from his flask. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Taehyung chuckles uncomfortably before rubbing the nape of his neck as you tilt your head at him, the glint in your eyes never fading at Jungkook’s words.
“I didn’t get a close look at her before, didn’t know she was a real beauty,” he recovers with a flirt. Another slap on the back of his head.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Seokjin diverts the topic. He appears very nice and seems to be the only one not smoking. His friendly smile puts you at ease and you politely tell him, “The pleasure is all mine.” Good first impression on all of Jungkook’s friends: check.
Your boyfriend ignores the interaction and stares at you until you gaze at him as well. “What are you doing here?” You can’t read his expression.
“I wanted to ask you…” you play with your fingers nervously, “if you wanted to go to the park with me?”
Jungkook quirks a brow as Namjoon and Seokjin wiggle their brows, Taehyung frowns, and Yoongi smirks. Quite brave of you to ask him out in front of his smoker friends, and it’s impressive that you play into such a role of textbook love: only caring about what your crush thinks. When Jungkook peeks to see their reactions, more or less weighing their judgement, he’s satisfied when he realizes none of them give a flying fuck about him being with a girl next door; someone outside of his type of rather than a free escort, really.
He doesn’t care about what they think when he smiles down at you and says, “Let’s go.” You bounce on your heels when he swings his arm over your shoulder and walks away from the scene. The unsteady heartbeat is back for the same reason as last time, but you’re waiting to request something else.
The park near the university is peaceful with groups of friends hanging out; couples sitting on benches; the sun shining down on the trees and grass as you aim for the ice cream stand. You try to muster up the courage to ask him first, but you’re feeling courageous as you pull away from his arm and instead latch onto his hand and intertwine your fingers. You glance at him with a blush to see his reaction, but he doesn’t look at you and only squeezes your hand nonchalantly. His grip is tighter than yours. Maybe it’s from the heat, but his cheeks are tinted in a light pink shade.
You stumble on your heels when you stare at him for too long, but you recover from a fall last second. He holds onto you anyway, furrowing his brows at your shoes. “High heels? Are you trying to reach my height?”
“You like them,” you giggle and continue your struts more carefully. When he frowns, you worry, “Do I not look good in them?”
“Why would I like them if you can’t walk in them? You look pretty in flats too.”
After a whole afternoon of eating ice cream, blushing at anything nice Jungkook said, listening to his music while sitting under the sun, the evening has come. Throughout the day, you were dreading the end of it because every second with him is so enjoyable. The warmth of his hand when you play with his fingers is a feeling you never want to forget, and you didn’t notice the little smile on his face when you were lying on his chest as he watched you do the most endearing and innocent thing one could think of.
“So precious,” he’d thought. It makes the argument from yesterday feel all the more terrifying when he remembers how close he had gotten to losing this moment. It’s nothing he’s ever experienced or even seen before; plain jackpot.
You’re off the school grounds as you walk on the streets passing cafés with Jungkook, hands locked and feeling perfect. You wonder if he has ever done this with anyone before, but then he’s never been in a relationship. Who are the people that comment in his Instagram posts then? A question strikes you, and you admire his side profile as you ask, “You don’t like it when people call you– Ah!” Your balance wavers as you stumble again, this time falling on your knees after your ankle bends. With the pain tolerance of a baby’s, your eyes instantly water and you let go of his hand as you hold onto your ankle. It’s sprained.
“Shit, are you okay?” He crouches down and picks you up bridal style before sitting you down on a nearby chair. The café’s lights allow him to see the scrape on your knee and the bump on your ankle. “Hey, hey, don’t cry now,” he rubs your injury soothingly as he cringes at your tears. He doesn’t know how to comfort you as you whimper and sniffle.
“Damn these heels,” you cry quietly.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your wording. “This is my second time hearing you swear. Swearing apparently helps with pain though. Say ‘fuck’.”
A chuckle leaves your mouth, but you decide to try it anyway; the throbbing muscle hurts too much. “F-Fuck.”
“Fuck these heels,” he encourages.
“Fuck these fucking heels,” you level. Maybe the theory is correct, because it feels slightly better when he laughs at your rare vulgarity. A minute passes with you trying to keep your tears at bay while he lightly massages your wound.
When he notices you calm down, he asks, “I don’t like it when people call me…?”
You sniffle and rub your eyes before saying a few seconds later, “Daddy.”
He blinks, stares at you, and his heart skips a beat. With your soft pout and red nose, you look so little to him. “... Yes?”
“Huh?”
“Oh,” he smoothly snaps out of his shock, “I don’t have that kink… Um, say it again?”
“Daddy?”
It sounds different hearing it from you. Without the drawn out whine or the eggplant emoji next to it, and with your voice, it actually sounds cute. “What does that word mean to you?” he shifts the conversation with a subtle blush.
“I don’t know. You call a fatherly figure daddy, right? A man who takes care of you. People say it during sex too. You’re being a daddy right now.”
“Stop,” he warns lowly, “we’re in public.” He stands up from his kneeling position and picks you up in his arms again. “Have you ever called anyone that?”
You clasp your hands behind his neck as he walks with ease, as if he isn’t carrying anyone in the first place. “No. My dad walked out on my mom when I was little, and I haven’t met anyone who treats me like you do.”
“Wait, you… think of me as your… daddy?” His eyes are wide and he’s gaping at the path in front of him with knitted brows. He looks so intimidating when you scrutinize his features, but you know he’s just flustered. You timidly nod against his shoulders. “Christ. Why?”
Your answer isn’t immediate because you don’t want to come off as too strong, but he’s impatient as he squeezes your waist. “I know you don’t want people to call you that,” you whisper understandingly, “but you’re so mean to others, and you hurt anyone who upsets you.” He rolls his tongue around his cheek uncomfortably. “Whether it be with words or actions. But you’re so sweet to me… You can be really rude, but you care a lot too. You don’t even smoke around me,” you laugh lightheartedly.
“I mean, you are a baby. You make it difficult to not treat you like one,” he jokes with a hint of truth. You snuggle into his neck with a lopsided grin and your breath fans his tan skin. “I don’t like being an asshole to you, but I’m not exactly a nice person either.”
“You’re carrying me to my dorm,” you point out as a counter.
“I’m only nice to you; somewhat. And… I don’t like being called daddy by horny women, or men for that matter. I’ve never liked it, so I’m not exactly sure why I’m hard right now.” You tense against him. “Something about your sweet, innocent voice calling me daddy is really fucking hot.” He sighs to collect his thoughts; he can’t wait until he’s in your room. It would just be torture. “Did you get on birth control, baby?” He keeps his volume low in case of someone eavesdropping.
“Yes,” you mumble and grow nervous at what he’s thinking.
“Good girl,” he exhales and swiftly enters an empty alley between two restaurants. “Quite the slut too, telling me all this in a crowd.”
“I’m sorry,” you breathe as he presses you against the wall and has you wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s so thoughtful, carrying you even when he’s shaming you so you don’t put pressure on your injured foot. The shadows casting from the walls in the narrow space limits your vision, but you don’t need to see anything when he’s doing all the work by rendering you immobile from the press of his hips.
“Good choice with the dress,” he says while pulling out his belt and releasing the buckle. You hold onto him tightly without the security of his hands. He pushes his jeans down and has you towering over him by adjusting your position from the back of your thighs. Your breathing is quick and shallow from the anxious anticipation of the raw stretch, but he’s so nice to you today: he shoves your panties to the side and rubs your folds to collect your arousal as lube. He’s being thoughtful by relaxing your walls with his fingers first, and you bite down on a moan at the sensation. He’s still taking care of you by silencing you with a bruising kiss.
“Thank you,” you sigh against his lips. His two knuckles are deep inside you as they curl and scissor. As nice as he is, he’s also very impatient and it’s not long before you feel his tip lightly poking at your entrance.
“Ideal for a quick fuck.” He flashes a dazzling smile before it falters in order to concentrate on positioning himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip as he slowly enters you, a lot more gentle considering the setting and knowing how vocal you get. A hum rumbles in his throat as you gasp when he’s halfway inside. When he bottoms out, he waits a few seconds for you to adjust before his rough nature returns. “You gonna stay quiet for me, little girl?”
“I’ll try.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when he leans in your ear, his breath tickling your neck.
“You know that’s not what I wanna hear,” he whispers. He isn’t going to fuck you until you say what he wants, and your diffidence doesn’t make an appearance when his fingers are digging so hard into your thighs, his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s completely nestled inside you.
You lean into his ear as well, and meekly say, “I’ll try my best, daddy.” You can feel him shiver under your hands and hear him grunt, “God,” before he starts moving. Fast. You’d think he’s in a rush from how his pace picked up so quickly—roughly—but he may have just discovered his new kink.
There’s no point in being quiet when the slam of his cock is enough noise deep in the alley, and he realizes that before you do. You’re bouncing in his arms, mouth open in a silent scream with only huffs leaving to not expose your doings, until he growls, “Say it again. Again and again.”
The chilly breeze from the night weather doesn’t affect you when he has you flush against him, and heat creeps all over your body not only from his hard and impatient thrusts but also from his words. “Daddy,” you whine, the same drawn out whine that he used to hate hearing; it makes his abs contract and clench now, a groan catching in his throat. He sounds almost animalistic, and your eyes screw back in pleasure.
“Quiet, you fucking slut,” he reminds with a following moan.
“I-I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper in a strained voice. You can’t keep your vocal cords steady when he’s knocking the breath out of you every time he hits your cervix so deliciously. Jungkook’s a total paradox when he’s being so aggressive yet sweet at the same time, but it feels too good for you to complain. Your head is in the clouds when he bites on your shoulder to practice what he preaches: being quiet.
“Do you love me?” Maybe that’s not the way you should go on about asking to hear his sweet nothings, because he bites you so hard that you feel his teeth break your skin.
“The fuck kind of question is that?” he snarls. He licks a drop of your blood off of his lips when he faces you, but the bruising pistoning of his cock doesn’t differ; maybe slams into you even harder. “Hm? Answer me, dumb little slut.” He pinches your thigh cruelly, emitting a pained gasp from you.
“I just want to hear you say it, please daddy,” you mewl. “I love you so much.”
“Keep fucking begging.”
You initially thought Jungkook became more honest and affectionate when you’re being intimate, but it seems that one word brings out a different side to him: wild and sadistic. Perhaps there are two sides of him being a daddy, one not so much of a fatherly figure. Controlling, dominating, and violent. You’ve received too many bruises in one night.
“Please, please, please, pretty please,” you comply in a cry and hug him tighter.
“Missing something,” he tuts with a breathless laugh. “I love you, stupid girl, more than anything.” He stops ramming into you, and the drag of his throbbing length loses its pace but not its strength. “So, so fucking much,” he strains before slamming into you one last time for his release. With him stuck brushing against your sensitive spot and his shaky moan, your lashes flutter and you clench down on him with the intoxicating wave of your orgasm coursing through your trembling figure. You whimper his name as his cum fills you, the warmth coating your walls while you lose your sense of awareness.
“Stand on one leg,” he breathes. You know he’s referring to your safe foot, so you disentangle your legs from his waist and stand. The only sound aside from the drown out dialogues from the restaurants nearby is your panting. Though he’s just as drained of energy as you are, he adjusts your dress and underwear for you, even fixing your hair before he pulls up his pants and lifts you. “Don’t call me that around others by the way– especially Taehyung.”
“I promise,” you assure with a chuckle.
The next day, a dreadful Monday, is not so bad when you get to link with your boyfriend and other friends by your usual spot on the benches. You don’t have a lot of lectures throughout the day, and you sit next to Jungkook who’s chatting with Taehyung and Yoongi after your long morning lecture in the afternoon. You peck his cheek as a greeting with a lovesick grin, and the former annoyed look on his face vanishes when he sees you. Soyeon and Minnie are close by, and thankfully there’s no tension between anyone. You’re forgiving, but you aren’t going to forget.
“So you two are actually back together, huh?” Taehyung says with a mocking smile. “What goes around comes around, Kookie.”
“Taehyung, you’re not making this any easier on yourself,” Yoongi murmurs.
Jungkook scoffs and rolls his tongue around his cheek—an irritated habit. “Well then Tae, I’m going to be polite and ask you to not be a homewrecker.”
“I have been hanging around Soyeon too much lately…” he jokes with a tilt of his head.
“Don’t turn this on me,” she says with a quirked brow, tone as soft as Jungkook remembers. You sit back and sigh at their bickering. “I didn’t know his name, you have no excuse to be flirting with her.”
“He isn’t–” You can’t get a word in when Jungkook agrees, “She’s fucking right, you know. Stop tailing around me to get a look up at her skirt.”
“I am not–"
“Oh for God’s sake,” Yoongi sighs like you do. Both of you share a guilty look, apologizing on each other’s behalf. It’s only when you start tracing the tattoos on Jungkook’s arm that he finally looks at you.
“You like it?” he asks, a bit smugly. You nod with a tiny smile. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he pecks yours, and says, “I’ll add your name to the collection. Thinking of inking my knuckles.”
A blush from his kiss, and a bashful smile from his idea graces your face when you cutely pout, “No…” He laughs at your very obviously fake denial and closes in on you, teasing in a whisper, “Yeah? You like that?”
“Look at you two being so adorable,” Taehyung interrupts with a dreamy sigh, “but I want ice cream.” He holds his hands up by his elbows on the oak table and leans his face on them with fluttering eyelashes. “Kookie? Ice cweam? Pwease?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook winces at the disgustingly cutesy face he makes, and you release a humoured breath at the friendlier banter. “Go buy it yourself, moron.”
“I don’t have money and I want her tea on how you two made up,” he flutters his lashes again with his fingers intertwined; begging so silly. “Pretty please.”
“Now I’m definitely not going to leave you alone with her.”
“Baby,” you interject, and his eyes widen at the nickname. “I want ice cream too.”
He flashes a quick glare at Taehyung, easily giving into your needs with a sigh. “You’re paying, fuckface.” He snatches his wallet the moment it’s out of his pocket and walks off while spinning it between his fingertips.
“He stole my fucking wallet,” he frowns without offence. “Oh well. So…” his eyes trail to you with a mischievous glint, “you never smoked before, right?”
You shake your head, a bit curious—albeit amused—as to where he’s going with this.
“You wanna know something? Jungkook reeeaaally likes smokers,” he stretches his hands for emphasis. It piques your interest, and you raise a brow. “I can teach you. We have to do it fast, before he comes from the store. Okay?”
“Um… okay,” you laugh as he switches seats from across you to Jungkook’s spot.
He takes out his pack where his lighter is also stuffed as he speaks, “So what I’m gonna do is teach you how to shotgun.”
“You can’t do that with a cigarette,” Yoongi states in boredom, a plain contrast to Taehyung’s hyperactivity. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying to you.”
“Oh, shut the fuck– okay, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.” He turns to you with glimmering excitement, “It’ll be easier on you if we do it with a shotgun.” You merely shrug because you don’t even know what that means. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth before holding up a hand to his lighter, inhaling until the tip burns. Smoke flies past his lips as he explains, “You inhale from the filter, but don’t inhale too much. You’re going to cough, maybe feel a little lightheaded since it’s your first time, but try to hold it in, okay?”
Taehyung peeks behind Yoongi before shifting his attention to you. He takes another drag from the cigarette but doesn’t exhale. “Okay,” you say with a nod, sharing his excitement at a new experience that Jungkook could potentially approve of. You can rely on Taehyung’s honesty, though the bad memory from before leaves a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you’re ready to create better memories with him. He flips the stick until the filter is between your lips.
He wraps his lips around the tip and your eyebrows shoot up at the proximity. He holds your face between his large palms, and the cigarette is hidden behind his hands. He leans closer and nods at you, and you take the cue to inhale. You hear Yoongi blow out a deep breath just as you take in a shallow one. The urge to cough strikes you instantly, and you hold it in the best you can; your cheeks puff out as you slightly wheeze, and smoke leaves from both your mouth and nose. That’s when Taehyung pulls back, the intense eye contact gone, and you hear Yoongi scoff and the heavy footsteps of someone else. You cough into your hand when Taehyung slips it out of your mouth and holds it under the table.
“What the fuck?” Jungkook asks incredulously and throws three wrapped popsicles on the bench. You feel slightly dizzy when your small coughing fit ends, and you grow confused as to why your boyfriend is glaring at you with such intensity as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Taehyung.
“Had to take you up on the homewrecker offer–” Taehyung’s sentence is cut off when Jungkook pulls him up by his collar, hesitates with his fist flying midway, then forcefully pushes him onto the pavement instead. He’s also confused– frantic, and doesn’t know what to do.
You’re semi-conscious of what he’s doing, but consuming nicotine for the first time leaves you feeling quite strange. You feel like you’ll stumble if you try to stand up, and slur if you speak, so you just wait it out.
“What– Why are you just sitting there?” he asks you with violent gestures. “What the fuck?” He holds onto his head, and all of your friends are quiet as they watch him. They must have missed you smoking for the first time. Yoongi waits for him to stop pacing.
“It’s not what you think, Jungkook,” Yoongi calmly tells him. What is he thinking though? “I know it looked–”
“The fuck it did! Right fucking in front of me? How the fuck are you so calm?” he yells.
“Hm?” you say. He watches you in astonishment: bottom lip jutting out and brows scrunched. If he didn’t see you shamelessly kissing Taehyung out in the open, he would be doubting his own vision because of how unbothered you seem. It bewilders him; why aren’t you reacting at all?
“They weren’t–”
“It took almost one fucking week of dating for you to resort to this?” Taehyung is still on the ground as he sends you a warning glance, Yoongi is unbothered by the ordeal because he’s constantly interrupted, and Jungkook is fuming at you while you just sit there.
“I was just curious,” you relate to the cigarette that is still lit beneath the grass next to Taehyung.
An astounded laugh is his only response as Taehyung smiles at you, but you’re only looking at Jungkook. “And here I thought, like a fucking idiot, that you were the only girl unlike my mother. And you,” he looks at his old friend with menace, “show your face around me, and I won’t hold back again. God, I need to kill someone,” he sighs before storming off. So he doesn’t like cigarettes?
When the fog in your mind begins to clear up, you stand to go after him just as Taehyung blocks your path. “I need to tell him I won’t smoke again,” you try to push him aside, but he doesn’t budge.
He laughs. “It’s not about that. He thinks you and I kissed because I made it look like it.” Just as you’re about to confront him, he clarifies, “Listen, I just want his reaction on this, okay? Don’t you want him to feel how you felt when he kissed your friend?”
“I’m over that.”
“Are you though?” No, you aren’t. “Aren’t you paranoid? All nervous when he’s around other girls? Or even when he’s just not around you?” Your silence prompts him to continue, “You’ll truly forgive him if you take revenge. You know he won’t do it again if he feels the same way you felt.”
“But that’s cruel…” you try to reason.
“And what he did wasn’t?”
Like the little devil on your shoulder, he enters your mind and reads it for his own agenda. What is his intention? Do what he couldn’t do with his ex? Is he… helping you? What he did was bad, so why aren’t you calling him out for it?
“What do I do?” you dodge his question. He knows the answer anyway.
He smiles with satisfaction. “Let’s talk it over a few cigarettes, hm?”
Back to square one– no, square zero. At square one, you could at least interact with Jungkook, do his homework and have him kiss you when he was satisfied; you don’t have anything to do with him now. Taehyung warned you of this, told you Jungkook would start seeing other people and avoid you unless he wanted to hurt you. How he knows him so well is beyond you, because that’s exactly what happens in the next four days.
You watch him from afar like before, see that scowl on his face that you haven’t seen in a long time after you met. Only two aspects have changed: the eye contact and Taehyung’s lack of presence around him. Jungkook’s eyes are always on you, filled with so much disdain and hatred, even when he’s kissing another girl. Smoking stops you from crying because of how dizzy you get, and Taehyung is always with you – waiting. Both of you are waiting for Jungkook to do something, and it’s a surprise Taehyung still hasn’t been beaten to a pulp for just talking to you.
Maybe it’s a sign that you and him weren’t meant to be. In the span of a short while when you were together, only problems have surfaced. So much misery and anger in a relationship isn’t normal; it’s toxic. But you wait anyway.
“Look at him glaring at you with a girl on his lap,” Taehyung chuckles before lighting up his cigarette. He’s leaning on the wall next to the campus entrance with you.
“Nothing new,” you croak and take a drag from yours, coughing again. It’s déjà vu, if anything. One has to learn from their mistakes to reach success, right? This situation is just one of them for the better of your relationship. Has to be.
“Worldstar,” he sings with a laugh. “I kind of miss hanging out with him, though; and the rest of my friends.”
“Yeah.” You can’t exactly pay your utmost attention to his words when you’re having a staring contest with Jungkook, who is practically devouring the unidentified girl’s mouth. It doesn’t sting as much as long as he has his eyes on you because you know what it means now: he’s trying to make you jealous. You didn’t know that before, but you didn’t know Jungkook as well as you do now before either.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“You somehow always do.”
Your reply humors him. “You want to go up to him, tell him what I did. But you know I’ll stop you.” His eyes squint as his cheeks hollow to inhale the nicotine. It’s a Marlboro Red, not exactly fit for a starter like yourself. You hate that you can’t even stand without using the wall as a leverage, but the effect is a necessary distraction.
“Why are you… so invested in this?”
He shrugs. “It may not seem like it, but it’s going to help strengthen your bond. It also gives you enough time to stop liking him and fall for me instead, but that’s just a plus.”
“What?” you slur. The cigarette is hanging on for dear life between your fingertips because of how weak you feel.
“We should kiss– for real this time,” he blurts. “He’ll talk to you sooner. God, I really want to kiss you.” He drops his stick before grabbing your face and softly crashing his lips against yours. You don’t close your eyes, you don’t really do much of anything while he does what he wants. It goes on for twenty seconds before he slowly pulls back. “He’ll talk to you tonight,” he exhales. “You’re welcome.” He pecks you again.
You finally close your eyes and your head hangs limply. “You’re the real problem,” you murmur, “you keep tearing us apart. The villain.”
“That kiss was on me,” he admits, “but I’m just making you face reality. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy, right? Only reason I can smoke with you is because Jungkook cares a fuckton about me. I’ll make it up to you as well, when your relationship isn’t a fucking lie.”
Couples go at their own pace, don’t they? Maybe this is how long it’s supposed to take for you to be one with your betrayed boyfriend. This is the real beginning; Taehyung is just the catalyst.
You see it when Taehyung is gone and Jungkook isn’t kissing back anymore. He isn’t even glaring. He’s just blank.
Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook.
It’s late in the evening and the nicotine still hasn’t worn off. You haven’t moved an inch from your spot and neither has Jungkook from a distance, still on the same curb across. The girl left when she didn’t receive any responses from him for a minute straight. An emotionless “fuck off” was enough for her to angrily storm off.
You have no idea where Taehyung went and you’re sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest and hands on your sides. Jungkook is staring at you from the bench. You just need to wait because he’s going to approach you like his friend told you.
People aren’t in the yard so it’s mostly empty in the open space. The lights from the streets and inside the building you have your back against don’t allow you to see your boyfriend clearly enough. He doesn’t have an issue with making out your features though. That kicked puppy expression on your face is drawing him, but he hasn’t been cruel enough.
It’s been difficult treating you like shit, so he doesn’t bother. It’s pathetic anyway, more pathetic than having smeared lip gloss on his mouth that he hasn’t wiped off. He knows he shouldn’t be so immature – he’s twenty years old. He’s old enough to be able to communicate, but no one’s been making it easy for him.
He has to decide whether he wants to be with you or just end it all before he feels any worse.
As the saying goes, no pain – no gain.
Jungkook slides down the wall and sits next to you after trudging in your way. It’s silent at first, and he doesn’t return your gaze when you look at him. You wait, and so does he. But he’s more impatient than you are; more hurt.
“What did you see in him, for God’s sake?” His voice is tired; words merely a sigh. You stay patient. “I mean, right after I opened up to you? Why?”
“I was paranoid,” you croak quietly, as if you’re about to faint, “terrified of you being with someone else. Maybe if you felt what I felt…”
He lightly shakes his head. “No, you didn’t think of that on your own. You didn’t kiss him either.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t want to smoke, didn’t want any of this to happen. What are you doing, my love?”
You sigh. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything.” The issue is that you let yourself be manipulated and molded into anything Jungkook likes, but he’s never told you what he likes. “All I know is loving you. That’s it,” you shrug tiredly, “that’s all I do. Everything I do, I do for you.”
“I’ll ask you for one thing– okay, two. Scrub your fucking lips and never talk to that piece of shit again. I’m not friends with good people,” he turns to you, “I don’t want you around them. I’m stuck in a constant cycle of toxicity and you’re the only good fucking thing in my life right now. I don’t want you to smoke or talk with my friends.”
“Then why do you?”
He stammers, “I-I’m used to it, I don’t fucking know. I know how to protect myself, but you’re too… untainted for them. Look at us, we don’t even fucking dress similarly. You and I have nothing in common.” He huffs to himself and looks up to the sky. “If you know what’s good for you–”
“You are good for me,” you interject.
“Don’t fucking lie to yourself,” he scoffs at you, “I’m anything but good for you. Do I give a fuck though? No. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you. But if you–”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
Another moment of silence passes. He’s the one to break it again. “I don’t want to have an issue like this ever again. No more infidelity, or whatever the fuck, no more silence. Communication, right?”
“Right. And no more getting involved with your social life.”
“Thank you,” he bows his head and licks his lips with a sigh. “I can’t deal with this again. I don’t want to leave like my dad, whore around like my mom; I just want to have normal fucking relationship problems.” His anxiety translates to his body language: nibbling, knee bouncing, cracking knuckles. He doesn’t like to talk about his family, friends or even you. You’re calmer in comparison. “Tell me… we’ll start over.”
“I’m not resetting my love for you,” you playfully nudge him.
The corner of his mouth curls. “Not like that. Let’s go back to you doing my homework.”
“Really?”
“I missed a fucking assignment today, okay?” he laughs. “I want to forget about all of this sad shit, you ever meeting my friends, Sooyen or whatever, all of it. Just you and me, okay?”
“Set our own pace,” you add with a nod. “No one interfering with our… bullshit.”
“Don’t fucking swear,” he puts a hand over your mouth and pushes your face with a wide grin. You giggle with him.
Now that Taehyung and Soyeon’s over, there’s nothing left to chance with the involvement of someone else. Trust blooms instead, and it’s not so bad when Jungkook shares a cigarette with you as you take tiny puffs per his instruction. You are safe with him; not dizzy, lightheaded, manipulated, nothing.
You’re happy, and so is he. Maybe that was the intention, but it means nothing. Taehyung sought vengeance through your relationship, and that’s that. No one can hold Jungkook against you when he’s in the palm of your hands, ready to tell you more than anyone else can offer.
Jungkook’s love and trust: check.
When he flicks off the ash of his cigarette, you snuggle into him and whisper, “I love you daddy.” His ring glimmers under the moonlight as he pets your hair.
“Love you more, babygirl.”
#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts x reader#jungkook imagines#jungkook x reader#bts smut#jungkook smut#jjk smut#bts fic#jungkook fic#networkbangtan#jeon jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#bts
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BnHA Chapter 306: the beginning of the WHAT
Previously on BnHA: Nana and the Gang were all, “hey Deku, we can read your thoughts and feelings so we should already know the answer to this, but for some reason we want to quiz you on whether or not you’d be down to kill Shigaraki Tomura.” Deku was all, “um okay, well tbh, probably not seeing as Saving People has been my entire thing since literally the start of the series.” The Vestiges were all, “yes that makes perfect sense and again we already knew that, but well, good for you buddy and I’m glad we had this talk. Anyway I guess we should ask these two cryptic fuckers in the corner to finally turn around now before we run out of -- ” and then the chapter ended. Because OF COURSE IT DID.
Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, WOULDN’T IT BE SO MUCH BETTER IF I GAVE YOU A CONFUSING CHAPTER WHERE EVERYONE FINALLY LEARNS ABOUT OFA, AND GOES BACK TO THE DORMS, AND THEN THE CHAPTER ENDS WITH DEPRESSED NOMAD DEKU STANDING ON A PRECIPICE WITH GRAN TORINO’S TATTERED CAPE FLOWING IN THE WIND.” Everyone is all, “???????????” Horikoshi is all, “also the parents are moving to the U.A. campus, and Jeanist’s neck is two and a half feet long, for everyone that was wondering.” Everyone is all, “WHERE ARE KACCHAN AND TODOROKI AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHO ARE THE SECOND AND THIRD USERS”, and Horikoshi is all, “:)” and fades away into nothingness like the fucking fae he is. Like a fucking imp who’s kept his end of the cursed bargain. What, the, fuck.
okay guys, so after the longest Thursday of my fucking life, during which I was secretly hoping that my spoiler containment net would be somehow be breached, inadvertently exposing me to theta spoiler radiation, so that I could be all “oh no... spoilers... there’s nothing I can do... I have no choice but to look” (which sadly did not happen), it is finally Friday and the chapter is finally out. so I’ve got my clown kit at the ready and other self-deprecating memes on standby, and I’m ready to go. and I should note that I’m also ready for Horikoshi to pull some absolute bullshit and be like, “oh you know what, we haven’t checked in with Rat Principal in a while have we” and spend the entire chapter on nonsense like that. I’M READY FOR FUCKING ANYTHING so bring it
(ETA: it would be nice if this man wouldn’t call my bluff every now and again.)
oh, right, we were due a color page! wow look at this
isn’t this supposed to be the future?? what’s with all of these staticky CRT TVs
anyway, so! is this the first time we’ve seen Tomura’s stylish finger prosthetic glove thingy in color?? because I didn’t expect it to be red. also, at some point you just have to give in and change your pants into cutoffs or something, Tomura. start a new trend of stylish villain capris
meanwhile Deku is dressed like he’s going on a journey into the desert to find a mystical oasis. actually this cape looks a lot like Gran Torino’s. I have to go back and see if Gran’s is all raggedy like this
(ETA: it wasn’t before but APPARENTLY IT IS NOW. I also forgot that Horikoshi had showed it sitting on a side table in the hospital a few chapters ago.)
lastly, AFO looks like someone’s thumb after they’ve been washing dishes for twenty minutes. you are just the ugliest dude in history, and as always, fuck you
HAHAHA SOB I KNEW IT
oh, Twowy McTwoface is finally starting to turn around? better CUT BACK TO DEKU’S HOSPITAL ROOM THEN. wouldn’t want to accidentally ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS or SOLVE ANY MYSTERIES, god forbid
well, whatever. whatever!! anyway so now someone’s knocking at the door. I say “someone” but we all know it’s Hawks
yep
they were actually standing outside the door for a while hoping they’d overhear another juicy plot conversation, but no such luck this time
lmaooo Jeanist wtf
acting all embarrassed, but you’re really just as curious as Hawks is. making him do all the dirty work for you huh
ARE YOU SERIOUS THIS IS AN INJUSTICE
so like two seconds after Katsuki gets dragged away you open the door for the rest of them!! well, fine!! I really want it to be a more private/personal moment between the two of them anyway so let the other kids check in on Deku first then
and in the meantime, time to see Hawks put the thumbscrews to All Might’s resolve lol
I wonder how much of it Hawks has already put together in the last five minutes. One for All is something connected to All for One that Tomura seems to want. Tomura was apparently targeting Deku. that’s more than enough to make a few deductions right there. I wonder how much Hawks knows about Deku’s quirk. he did watch the sports festival, and he ran into the kids interning under Endeavor that one time
okay well maybe he hasn’t put the rest of it together just yet, but Hawks is making a pretty reasonable pitch here to All Might
also this is a pretty spectacular view. is this a hospital or a hotel??
AHLKJLKJLKJ ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO TELL THEM
OH MY GOD HE IS?!?!
JUST LIKE WE ALL EXPECTED, THE NEXT TWO PEOPLE TO LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT OFA ARE GOING TO BE HAWKS, AND BEST FUCKING JEANIST
-- LFKLKKLDK ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. ARE YOU --
( •̀_•́ )
[sitting cross-legged on the ground pulling up little clumps of grass and letting them fall from my fingers one by one] yeah. sure. okay. fine. sure
-- OKAY, NO. NUH-UH. NO
everybody better hold tight cuz I’m about to pick up this whole chapter and yeet it into the ocean like a fucking frisbee lol
HORIKOSHI I DON’T CARE ABOUT THESE PEOPLE SITTING HERE WATCHING TV WTF
-- OH
well okay then. proceed. though lord help me if they’re about to reveal the secret of OFA to the whole fucking world skdkj
oh snap
well, there it is. pretty much what I expected, but it’s good to actually get to see this moment with him taking responsibility
though at the same time, thank you Horikoshi for not forcing us to sit through the rest of that
their fucking faces omg. okay but seriously, what nation doesn’t secretly love a good scandal
the Endeavor Pamphlets, part two. thank you for giving the country something to opine about on twitter in these trying times, Enji
so now they’re asking about Hawks and Jeanist but I cannot even focus on anything all of a sudden because what?!
is Jeanist even a real actual human being you guys?! are we sure he’s not three kids sitting on each other’s shoulders?? are you related to that one guy with the really long neck from the Jedi Council?? are you Orochimaru, bro??
so now Hawks is apologizing for the murder of Twice, and for hiding the connection with his dad
the fact that he has to give this serious formal apology and beg forgiveness for the shameful crime of Having An Abusive Father is really something else, though. just. it’s realistic, but I still hate it
moving on now to the one thing he actually does owe the public an explanation for
not to go all “Hawks did nothing wrong” on you guys yet again, but seriously. 100% facts. fandom can (and no doubt will) debate this until the end of time, but if Twice had gotten away they wouldn’t be having this press conference right now because there wouldn’t be any heroes left to give one. anyways though, I’ve already said more than enough about that in previous posts
so now some severe-looking lady with the weirdest fingers I’ve ever seen is saying that her mother was injured during Machia’s rampage
and she’s basically all “a fuck lot of good ‘I’m sorry’ does us all about now.” true true
wow she’s really getting fired up
and now Enji is basically saying that he understands that an apology isn’t enough, and what they really need now are solutions. okay, well! SO THEN WHAT IS THE PLAN THEN
hmmfsdgh
this eloquent PEZ dispenser makes a good point you guys
wait, hold up
CERTAIN citizens?? um excuse me, what??
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shit
holy shit. well, this will go over well
okay! so this tells me a number of things, though
basically the minute that Hawks learned about One for All, he realized that anyone connected to Deku (e.g. Inko) would be a target for AFO. AFO wants OFA, meaning AFO wants Deku, and one of the easiest ways to get to Deku would be to target his family
Hawks therefore realized that Inko needed to be placed into protective custody
but the fact that ALL of the hero course students’ families (and is it only the U.A. hero course, or all of the hero course students across the country?) are being given protection tells me that Hawks and co. don’t want to single Deku out as being important. so then it looks like they’re not going to tell everyone about OFA (or at least not the public. which, good). so rather than drawing suspicion by saying “we’ve got to protect everyone connected with this one kid”, they’re making it seem like all the U.A. kids’ families are getting this treatment
but since the heroes are now spread so thin, they can’t just send a protective detail to each and every family, so they’re bringing all of the families to the same place instead to better keep an eye on them
so that’s all well and good, and a very smart move. except that idk how all of this is going to go over with the general public, all of whom are probably feeling unsafe at the moment, and who will probably see this as preferential treatment -- basically just the heroes looking after their own and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves
(ETA: okay so @hanashimas’ translation clarifies that U.A. is offering their services as an evacuation shelter for everyone who wants it, not just the families of the U.A. students. that’s much more appropriate so I withdraw my previous “wtf” reaction lol.)
anyway though here’s Mitsuki and Inko
can we take this as confirmation that the two of them really are friends? that’s one piece of fanon that I’ve always hoped was true, so I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s confirmed
(ETA: also this means that Hagakure’s parents (or maybe “parents” in quotation marks) will supposedly be moving in as well. sure am curious as to how that’s going to go.)
now someone in the press crowd is asking whether U.A. can provide adequate security, which is honestly the LAST thing I expected these people would be outraged about lol. shows what I know I guess
(ETA: again though, this makes sense if the “certain civilians” thing was just a translation error.)
LMAO DAMMIT ENJI
YOU CAN’T JUST ALWAYS PULL THE “JUST WATCH ME” TRICK AND EXPECT IT TO SHUT DOWN THE CONVERSATION EVERY DAMN TIME YOU ASSHOLE
-- OH MY GOD RED ALERT
TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BECAUSE OMG
WASH CAN’T BELIEVE HIS FAMILY GROUP CHAT IS STILL SENDING HIM FUCKING MEMES AT A TIME LIKE THIS. HE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK IF THE DABI DANCE IS TRENDING ON TIKTOK, MOM!!
FOR A MINUTE I THOUGHT MT. LADY WAS HOLDING MIDNIGHT’S TORN-UP MASK, AND BY THE TIME I REALIZED THAT’S ACTUALLY HER MASK AND NOT MIDNIGHT’S, I HAD ALREADY CONSTRUCTED AN ELABORATE HEADCANON IN WHICH MT. LADY AND MIDNIGHT WERE SECRETLY DATING BUT HADN’T COME OUT TO ANYONE YET, AND THEN TRAGEDY STRUCK, AND NOW MT. LADY IS GETTING READY TO SET OUT TO SEEK VENGEANCE. AND WELL, NOW THAT THIS HEADCANON EXISTS IN THE WORLD, I’M NOT SURE IF I’M READY TO GET RID OF IT
MIRKO HAS GOTTEN HERSELF A PROSTHETIC (ROBOT??!) ARM, NOTHING ELSE THAT’S HAPPENING IN THIS CHAPTER IS EVEN SLIGHTLY IMPORTANT!!! HELLO!!!!!
AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH GOOD LORD. THE WORLD ISN’T READY. HE LOOKS LIKE HE HASN’T SLEPT IN NINETY-EIGHT YEARS, BUT SOMEHOW HE MAKES IT INTO THE HOTTEST THING EVER AS PER USUAL
WHO THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING GUY. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HIM? IS THIS KAMUI?? WAS THAT THING WHICH I ALWAYS ASSUMED WAS HIS HAIR ACTUALLY A HELMET OR SOMETHING WHAT
LOL AND MEANWHILE
you tell me, Dabi! weren’t you the one who said that wouldn’t be enough to kill him? what even is your endgame here. I’m starting to worry about the villain brain cell supply you guys. I feel like Compress took most of them with him when he left
OH??
“when asked about One for All, Endeavor fucking lied through his teeth.” well, well, well
SLKDFJLSKGDJLKLKGJL THE DORMS
( ⁰ ⌂ ⁰ )
SLDKJFLKJWLKJLK
WLKDJSLKJFWKELKSDJLKHGLK
HDSMFLKGKL:GDSELK
OCHAKO’S HAND IS SHAKING OH MY GOD
THERE’S YOUR KAMINARI, EVERYONE!!
RHA’S SCANLATION TEAM REALLY THREW DEKU’S HANDWRITING UNDER THE BUS HERE HUH
HE TOLD EVERYONE!?
WHY THE FUCK IS HE WRITING IT AS A LETTER
(ETA: 9. also if he really wrote every kid in his class then that means the U.A. traitor -- or Hagakure as we like to call her around these parts -- also knows about OFA, and knows that Deku has run the fuck off and isn’t at U.A. anymore. so that’s just great!)
OH HELL NO
the hell does that mean, you must leave. leave to go where. son you are not up and leaving to go power up and lead us all into a timeskip. and I swear to GOD, if you left Kacchan too...!!
MY GOD I CAN’T PROPERLY ABSORB ALL OF THESE OCHAKO FEELS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO TERRIFIED TO SCROLL TO THE LAST FUCKING PAGE, FUCK
I JUST GOTTA DO IT. I JUST GOTTA SUCK IT UP AND DO IT. FUCK
FUCK
WHAT. THE. FUCK
y’all I’m not even gonna waste your time with more keysmashing, JUST ASSUME THAT I AM DOING IT NONSTOP, FOREVER. and let’s just jump RIGHT IN HERE
okay so here I thought that All Might and co. had taken him away somewhere to train, but that is CLEARLY not what’s going on here. this kid is standing here in his Apocalypse Aesthetic hero costume which has CLEARLY seen better days, with Gran Torino’s cloak (GUESS THAT EXPLAINS THAT, THEN?? SO DID GRAN FUCKING DIE EXCUSE ME WTF), and a fucking backpack. this little green idiot has RUN AWAY FROM HOME. this is the absolute LAST THING ON EARTH I ever expected to happen so PARDON ME WHILE I SCREAM CONFUSEDLY INTO THE VOID
he does not look okay. you guys he doesn’t look okay at ALL. he has NEVER looked like this. this isn’t just a “I’m sad because I’m leaving all my friends behind” kind of look on his face, or even just a “Gran Torino died maybe and I’m still having emotions over it” look. this is an EXHAUSTED, dead look in his eyes. something terrible has happened
WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARMS DEKU. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS GODDAMMIT
love how this random building is just straight up collapsing, like that’s just a normal thing that happens every day now. lovely
APRIL MEANS IT’S NOW FULL ON SCHEDULED ALL-MIGHT-DYING-HOURS, BUT LET’S COMPLETELY IGNORE THAT THOUGH BECAUSE FUCK THAT NOISE
“THE SECOND USER? WHO KNOWS? CERTAINLY NOT ME” HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD
“BAKUGOU? NEVER HEARD OF HIM!” HORIKOSHI PLEASE
WHERE. IS. KACCHAN
did he go with Deku?? did he get a chance to talk to him before he left?? did he get his own private letter which he read and then promptly blew up in a fit of panicked rage?? is he going to go after him?? DOES HORIKOSHI KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING TO ME RIGHT NOW?? OF COURSE HE DOES, DON’T BOTHER ANSWERING THAT
omg. though actually the fact that we’ve already jumped a few weeks forward makes me hopeful that there won’t actually be another timeskip, or at least not much of one. I’m sure that’ll be the big debate of the week, but I don’t think we can jump too far forward here. for starters because of that All Might prophecy I mentioned. and also because TomurAFO isn’t just going to wait around for months. and also because I’m 100% sure that Deku’s running-away backpack is just filled ENTIRELY WITH NOTEBOOKS and this asshole cannot possibly survive more than 3 days on his own. UNLESS SOMEONE COMES TO HELP HIM THAT IS. OR SOMEONES, EVEN. OMG. omg omg omg. fuck this chapter lmao
#bnha 306#midoriya izuku#hawks (bnha)#takami keigo#endeavor#todoroki enji#best jeanist#all might#uraraka ochako#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
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Stressed
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.
Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you
Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.
Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39
“Take a deep breath.”
You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.
“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”
You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”
He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.
"Anything else I can do for you?"
You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.
"No, I have everything I need, thanks."
"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."
You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.
"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."
"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.
You've never been so stressed in your life.
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You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.
You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.
You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.
You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.
“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.
Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”
Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.
On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.
“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.
“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”
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That was nine months ago.
Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.
He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.
But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?
What do you think? What do you want it to look like?
You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.
The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.
You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.
You fail miserably.
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“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”
The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”
He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.
“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”
“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”
You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.
You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.
Then you wait.
Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.
All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.
“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.
You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.
“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.
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Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.
You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.
“Are you sure about this?”
“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.
“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.
You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.
“I want to suck your cock.”
Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.
“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”
He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.
“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.
From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.
“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”
“It is,” you correct him.
“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.
“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.
“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”
When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.
“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.
His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length
“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.
You whine in protest.
“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.
He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.
“Lay down.”
He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.
“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.
“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.
You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”
“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.
“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.
Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.
“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-
“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.
You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”
“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.
“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”
His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.
Then he starts talking.
“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”
“Yes.”
“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”
He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.
“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.
“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”
Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”
“Such a good girl.”
Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.
Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.
“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”
“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.
He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side
“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.
He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.
“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”
“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”
“I didn’t think that!”
“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.
Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.
part 2
#marcus pike#marcus pike fanfiction#the mentalist#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x you#reader insert#fanfiction#writing#the mentalist fanfiction#I took some liberties with UT's school of anthros forensics lab#it does exist#DO NOT LOOK UP PICTURES#IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH#DON'T DO IT#I AM NOT SQUEAMISH AND DO RESEARCH WITH CADAVERS#BUT IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH#DONT#DO#IT
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7 or 11 jmart for the kiss prompts??
thank you so much for the prompt!! asdfgghjkll i swear i didn't mean to post a post 200 separation fic on the same day as you (i was actually working on this last night).
this is a version of the scenario i wrote in love letters where martin and jon are separated after 200. but there is absolutely no need to read love letters to understand this.
warning for discussion of the panopticon scene in 200, and for a moment of jon wishing for the Eye to return (limited to the first section).
7. “I’ve missed you” kiss & 11. “I almost lost you” kiss
Waking up without Martin almost feels like dying all over again. That horrible moment where Jon opens his eyes in the hospital, on the other side, and doesn't see Martin… he'd take being stabbed a dozen times over this.
When he wakes up and finds Martin gone, he thinks he's lost him. That Martin's died, that he's trapped on the other side buried in rubble, dead because of Jon, and Jon's survived somehow when he really doesn't deserve to… or that Martin's alive, maybe, just maybe, but he's somewhere else entirely. One of the other worlds Annabelle spoke of, or their original world—which maybe Jon should hope for; Martin would have the others, assuming they survived, and he'd be safe from the fears, safe from whatever horrible things they've unleashed on this world with one quick motion of a knife.
Jon should hope for this, that Martin is safe and that he has the others. But he's selfish, and they promised together, and he misses Martin with everything in him.
He's at a hospital in London, he figures out eventually. The hospital closest to where the Magnus Institute was, in another world. The nurse reports that they found him on the site where Millbank Prison used to be, and isn't that weird? And that they found him there alone. (Jon's throat closes up at that, his eyes stinging, and he pretends he's tired so the nurse will leave, so he can cry in peace.) Martin wasn't with him. Martin didn't come through.
But after a few days lying in the hospital with nothing but his thoughts, nothing else to do, Jon starts to question this. They have no idea how this all works, the tapes and the Web and the crack between the worlds… Surely he wasn't the only one to come through. Annabelle Cane thought she'd come through or die, and if Jon came through… and they didn't find her where they found Jon, either. (Of course, maybe Annabelle ran off before Jon was ever found, but somehow Jon suspects she wouldn’t. She strikes him as someone who likes to be at the center of things.)
If there's a possibility that Annabelle came through, and landed somewhere differently than Jon, then there is a possibility that Martin came through, too. That he is somewhere, here, and maybe he is alive.
It's a small possibility. But Jon clings to it with everything in him.
He can't Look for Martin ( or for Annabelle, really). The Eye is gone. If it is here in this world, it has left him. Jon tries to be grateful for this, and a part of him is—he's been reaching for humanity for so long, all while sinking further and further into something he never wanted, he should be beyond grateful that it's gone, that he is alive and can live, without fading, somewhere else. (Although a part of him insists it doesn't matter if Jon hasn't made it.) But after so long with the Eye as a captor, a safety net, a part of him he thought he couldn't cut away… trying to live without it is strange. It hovers like a phantom limb, something severed by the gaping scar in his chest. He keeps reaching for it, for the horrible comfort of Knowing, and he hates it, but he wants it back deeply. Wants it because he knows he could find Martin with it, just maybe. He keeps thinking, Give it back, just for a moment. Thinks, I'll use it to find Martin and then I'll let go, I won't ever again, I hate it but I need it, I NEED to find him…
It doesn't come back. If Jon is ever going to find Martin, he'll need to do it on his own.
He asks all the nurses and staff, anyone he comes in contact with, if they've ever met a Martin Blackwood. Asks if there's anyone in his files with that name, or a name like it, begs the nurses to please look around for anyone like that. No luck there. Jon asks for a phone book and gets an odd look; he guesses phone books are out of fashion in this 2018, too. He can't do much while he's in the hospital, and he's about to give up hope on making any progress until he's been discharged.
But then he manages to get a hold of a laptop. After days of asking, a nurse offers to lend him one, if he promises to keep it quiet, and not to exert himself.
Jon searches the Internet for hours. There are dozens of Martin Blackwoods, actually, more than he ever could've guessed, and none of them seem to be Martin. He has to consider the fact that Martin may not have existed here—just like Jon didn't exist here, or doesn't seem to have, before they woke up. Which will make it nearly impossible to find him using the Internet—using anything, until Martin has been here long enough to establish a paper trail—if Martin was ever even here in the first place…
Desperation. Panic. Jon's last resort is to write a letter. To write down every single thing he's wanted to say to Martin, the things in his head when he woke up, the things in his head when he realized Martin wasn't here. He writes it all, says the things he knows only Martin would know, so Martin will know it's him if he ever reads it. And then he spreads it across the Internet. Posts it every single place he can think of. Every social media site. A lot of forums that are frequently visited. Comments on blogs he thinks Martin might read. Anywhere he can think of. He even prints off copies and mails them to every address he can think of that Martin might be at: his Prentiss flat, his post-Prentiss flat, his mum's care home, Upton House, the safehouse. He puts his real name on it, at the very top, and Martin's, hoping that if Martin is searching on the Internet, it might come up…
Jon's desperate. He'll try anything, any desperate, silly scheme like spreading a love note all over the Internet. Anything to get Martin back.
-
By the time Jon leaves the hospital, his letter has gone viral. Plastered all over the place. There's people picking it apart, speculating about whether it's real, calling it an excellent work of fiction, speculating it's all a joke. There's even some commentary from other Jonathan Simses and Martin Blackwoods, swearing it's of no relation to them.
None of it is what Jon needs. He checks every iteration obsessively: every comment, repost, retweet. None of it is Martin. None of them are Martin.
He's still looking. Every single day, he looks, in places beside his letter and its hundred iterations. He searches as far as he can, in every record he can think of. He tries to find places in London that he and Martin frequented—the ones he can find. He even goes back to the Institute, or where it should be. It isn't there, of course. Probably never was. Jon can't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed.
It's all he can do, to look and to keep hoping. It's all he can do.
It's hard, being alone again, after so long always being at Martin's side… They'd craved space sometimes, and they'd had it, he supposes, but now… Weeks without Martin, one, two, three weeks, and it's excruciating. Jon had said together at the end, he'd promised , and he'd tried so hard to believe it, and now he's here, impossibly, alone.
He has nightmares almost every night. Nightmares of the Panopticon and the end of the world, the ritual, words forced up through his throat—being at the center of the Eye, at the center of the world with Jonah Magnus at his feet and Martin dying in his arms. Martin forcing the knife into his chest. Jon hasn't dreamed of anything but the statements of others for so long, and he'd thought he missed it, but now… He wakes up almost every night shaking and crying, reaching for Martin. Like clockwork. He thinks he'd do anything for a dream that isn't his, a dream that's not an endless reminder of what he's done.
He checks the forums. He searches in familiar places. He lies in bed and thinks of Martin, tries to look for Martin, silently begs for help from anyone who might be listening (the Web, the Eye, anyone). Nothing works. Nothing.
The reminders come like clockwork: Jon might be looking for no one, might be shouting out to someone who isn't there. Martin might be dead. It might be too late to get him back.
-
Three weeks in, Jon finds a comment on the original forum, the original place he posted the letter on that first day. A comment from an m.blackwood .
Jon reads it with his heart in his throat. Trembling with hope. Unable to hope completely. There's a dozen different things it could be besides him.
The comment says I thought you were dead. It says, I'm sorry. It says, I love you, says, I'm coming.
Jon's chin trembles, his eyes stinging. He fumbles at the keyboard with shaking fingers to instant-message m.blackwood, types out his address immediately, without thinking. (He has to type it out three times before he gets it right, his hands are shaking so hard.) And after that, I miss you. Even though he said it in the letter, even though it might not be Martin—it could be someone else fucking with him, a troll or whatever it's called; it could be the Web or the Stranger, luring him into a trap. But Jon doesn't care. He doesn't care. If there's any chance, any chance it's Martin…
The reply comes a few minutes later: I'm coming. I'm so sorry. I miss you too. I'm coming right now. And Jon wipes his eyes, presses his face into his hands, and allows himself to hope.
-
An hour and a half later, someone is buzzing for his flat. Jon runs so fast to the door that he almost slips and falls in the hall, hits the button with entirely too much force and breathes, " Martin? " into the intercom.
Silence for a moment, long enough that Jon starts to wonder if this is just some random person he's practically sobbing down the line at. And then a voice answers, tear-choked: "Jon?"
Jon nearly collapses with the weight of this voice, Martin's voice. He leans hard against the wall, his eyes burning, and says, "Martin, I-I'm buzzing you in," wiping his eyes frantically.
He doesn't move from the door, stays leaning against the wall like it is the only thing keeping him up, until he hears a tentative knock on the other end. And then he's yanking it open, as hard as he can, and on the other side is Martin. Not something pretending to be Martin, not another Martin Blackwood, but his Martin. His Martin, standing there with the faded marks of bruising, his left arm in a cast and a new scar across his forehead, tears pooling in his eyes. Martin. Jon can't breathe for a moment, can't move, can't go to Martin because it doesn't feel real, none of it.
And then Martin's saying, "Jon?" and bursting into harsh, frantic sobs. And Jon's rushing forward. He's rushing forward and letting Martin collapse in his arms, gripping Martin tightly, his fingernails digging into Martin's shoulders, his face pressed into Martin's neck. He's trying to hold on without squeezing or holding too tight, in case Martin's hurt worse than he knows—he's saying Martin's name over and over again, a senseless litany into Martin's skin: Martin, Martin. He's crying, too, hot tears dotting the fabric of Martin's shirt. He's burrowing as close as he can, pulling Martin into him, desperate to feel every part of him—it's him, he's here, it's Martin, they haven't lost each other.
Martin's holding on just as tightly, trembling in Jon's arms where they've sunk to the ground, right in Jon's doorway. He's crying so hard, it's difficult to understand what he's saying, but eventually Jon begins to make it out. He's saying I'm so sorry. Again and again, muffled into Jon's hair: I'm so sorry.
"No," Jon says, suddenly desperate. " Martin. No." He pulls back to look Martin in the eye, to try and wipe the tears off of Martin's face (even though he is crying, too). Leans up to press a kiss against Martin's forehead. "Martin, please, please… p-please don't apologize, please…"
"I killed you," Martin chokes out, his eyes shut, his dark lashes wet against his cheeks. "I killed you, Jon, I hurt you, a-and I… I thought you were dead, wh-when I woke up here, w-without you, I thought I'd never see you again, because of me… "
"I thought I'd lost you, " Jon says, quietly, through his own tears. He wipes the tears from Martin's face again and again. "A-and it really would've been my fault, because I lied to you, I-I was the reason you were up there… Martin, please. "
" Jon. " Martin tugs him a little closer, burrows closer still, his face pressed into the juncture between Jon's shoulder and his neck.
"It's okay." Jon kisses Martin's forehead again, his temple, his cheek, the top of his head. "Martin. Martin, it's—you're here, it can all be okay now…"
Martin leans up abruptly to catch Jon's mouth with his. It's salty and lingering and desperate, every single thing Jon has felt in these long horrible days without Martin, every single kiss he wanted to give Martin while he was gone. Jon sinks into it, gripping Martin as tightly as he can, gripping onto his shirt, kissing Martin fiercely, with the panicked relief of being alive, of finding each other again.
Even when the kiss finishes, they don't let go. They stay there, clinging to each other in the doorway, leaning against Jon's open door. Martin's still crying, still trembling in Jon's arms; he says, I missed you too, I missed you so much; Jon says, Martin, I missed you every single day. Every single moment.
Martin whispers I love you against Jon's hair. Saying it back is as easy as breathing.
#tma fic#mag 200#jonmartin#the magnus archives#post 200#i wrote this#i might write more fics in this specific 200 scenario. like especially if i wanna write something where they talk things out
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The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)
Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta. You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face. You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed. You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.
Special Note: A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!
Word Count: 9486
Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.
Lesson 1
It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar. Some looking to win romance. Some looking to win money. While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends. Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band. It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.
You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched. You checked your phone for messages but found none. It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up. It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.
Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.
You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response. Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.
But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up. A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point. You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now. Sometimes it was them. Sometimes it was you. But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.
Oh well. It was likely for the best. At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date. And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.
You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.
Your eyes scanned around the room, observing. Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians. Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din. Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs. Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.
And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage. All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club. Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch. Was it that time already?
Not a moment later, there he was. Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.
As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing. The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.
Aizawa Shouta.
Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star. The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.
Fuck. It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.
This. This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out. You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people. But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new. And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump. Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed. But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel. Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.
You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.
You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away. Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral. To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze. You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.
He loved what he did.
And you loved watching.
Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis. “Another night solo, huh?”
You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons. He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.
You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly. “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”
“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.
Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”
You grinned and set your glass down. “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”
He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles. “Always, darlin’.”
You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”
“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”
“What??”
“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’. You know who I’m talking about. If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.
You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done. But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened.
Watching him from a distance was one thing. But actually meeting him? Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?
You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”
Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”
The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention. You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage. No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him. The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at. And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.
Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you. You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance. Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.
A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift. The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins. You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him. Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time. Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did. Only rarely did he linger for a drink. What were the odds, right?
Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you. He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.
“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep. It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten. You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.
“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.
You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured. You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…
Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.
Shit. He caught you staring.
You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him. No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.
“Long night?” Hizashi asked him. In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.
“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied. “You?”
“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied. Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass. Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip.
He wouldn’t…
Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar. “Duty calls, friend. Be back in a sec.”
And just like that, you were left alone with him. Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later. You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice.
Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight. A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.
“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred. “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”
You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold. “No.”
“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned. “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”
The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl. It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat. Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi. He had a way of handling drunken idiots. But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him.
You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind. Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face. A well-placed kick to his shin. Your pepper spray.
Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder. The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort. You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.
You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips. But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.
“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.
Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare. “She said no.”
The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”
“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.
The man sputtered. “For what?!”
You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.
“For touching her without permission. For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”
With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.
“Ow ow ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.
Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good. Now get out.”
The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him. “Hey, fuck you man!” He shouted. But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.
The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables. Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.
“You okay?”
You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse. Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess. The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had. But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.
His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”
“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.
He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.
You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.
“What the hell was that?!” She demanded. “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”
“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.
Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.
“Is this true?” She asked you.
She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.
“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.
“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.
She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine. But next time ask for one of my bouncers. Or Hizashi. Or me. Anyone but you.”
Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin. “And why is that?”
“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.
Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents. “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.
“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay. Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.” She crossed her arms. “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”
“I wasn’t going to break his hand. I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.
You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.
Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better. And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before. “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”
“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love. I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.
Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.”
“Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.
“And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment. I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi. “Get her a fresh drink.”
“Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.
She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”
“Thank you.” You replied.
Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.
You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now. “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”
“Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.
You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath. Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display. Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.
“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.
“It was nothing…” he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”
You looked at him with surprise then. Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely. The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.
“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”
Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked. “You were so fast…”
Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”
You had no difficulty believing that…
“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.
Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking. The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.
His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.
“You’re a regular here.” He commented.
It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown. How long had he noticed you’d been coming here? Did he know how closely you watched him?
“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment. You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.
“No company tonight?” he asked.
Oh. He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused. Was it possible to feel both?
“Not this time. I got stood up.” You replied.
“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.
You gave a dry laugh. “True. I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”
Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”
Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice. You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.
“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”
That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin. “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
You couldn’t help but smile back. This actually wasn’t so bad…
With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval. He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought. It felt natural. Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself. After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face. His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.
The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri. You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own. Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life. You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory. He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.
Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed. “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed. “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”
Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look. “Is that what you want?”
Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.
“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink. “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”
“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.
Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation. You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now. You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him. “How about you? Any special someone for you?”
He chuckled. “No. No special someone. Not yet, at least.”
The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand. Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.
Was he…?
Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him. Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched. If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?
You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned. Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there? What if you were wrong?
You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.
Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter. The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy. It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations. Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.
He was interested. In you.
Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned. Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind. It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most. You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.
You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.
You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers. Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin. That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.
Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment. “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”
Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club. Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day. How had it gotten so late so fast?
“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.
In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement. But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…
Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could. “Leave me the keys to the place. I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”
“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug. He placed a set of keys on the counter. “Don’t tell Nemuri, though. She’ll kill me.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.
With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left. You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.
You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.
Your turned back to face him and froze. Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space. He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.
With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.
“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile. “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”
He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you. “Call me Shouta.”
You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.
His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.
His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own. Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.
Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.
You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.
“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.
One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…
Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.
You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass. You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.
“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.
You gave a small laugh and shook your head. “No… not like that.”
Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.
You kissed Aizawa Shouta.
Actually, he kissed you.
You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.
So, you completely changed the subject.
“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.
Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.
“My grandpa had one when I was a kid. Used to mess around on it.” He explained. “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”
You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails. You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…
“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”
“I can teach you.”
Your fingers stopped their tracing. “What?”
“I can teach you.” He repeated.
You shook your head. “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”
“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them. Follow me.”
Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat. He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.
It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty. The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.
Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him. The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.
He released your hand and began his instruction.
“First thing you should know is how to find middle C. Everything else will center around this.” He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space. “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.
“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.
“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.
“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys. Like this.” Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm. “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.” He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out. Then, he removed his hand. “Your turn.”
You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried. The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.
“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured. “Let’s try it again. Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”
Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol. It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness. You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.
“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.
His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”
You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit. And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.
But did you really want to stop? How often would you get an opportunity like this?
“No, it’s okay. Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.
Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys. “Place your hand over mine.”
You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his. His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.
“Watch where the fingers land. Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.
“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said. “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”
“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval. “Your turn.”
This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time. The improvement was noticeable.
He smiled. “Good. Now, for the other hand. You’ll start one octave lower. Can you find it?”
Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.
“Perfect. Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”
You placed your fingers across the white keys. “Like this?”
Shouta nodded. “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand. The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”
You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you. You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.
“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”
A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.
“Come here.” He said.
You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap. His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his. The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.
“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.
You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod. “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily. “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”
Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No. Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”
He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him. He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.
He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them. You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.
“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.
You loved this. The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes. To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.
You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.
“Good.”
Your spine straightened against him slightly. The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.
“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”
You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake. You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.
“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.
“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”
Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down. And again.
You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys. All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen. His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.
He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.
“Do you want to try?” he offered.
His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.
“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.
“Just take it slow.”
You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys. His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.
It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable. But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.
It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted. But Shouta noticed instantly.
There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting. Finally, he spoke. “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now. “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”
Embarrassment flooded through you. Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”
A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results. Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need. Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.
“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.
Of course you did. It was obvious you did. Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?
But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear it. A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you. At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…
“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.
With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own. You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.
Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs. This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing? How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence? And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.
Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties. The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation. His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps. Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock. Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.
Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements. “You better stop that…” he warned.
No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end. But you didn’t care. You were an unfettered, horny mess now.
A whine escaped your lips at his restriction. In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck. His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw. There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.
“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”
Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap. The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control. But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.
Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.
A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back. “You’re so wet.”
A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.
Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.
You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”
Shouta was strict, but not cruel. He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance. The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.
“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.
Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered. Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit. A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.
“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.
He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage. With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release. Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you. With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching. Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.
Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer. You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.
“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”
You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers. The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake. Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched. Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.
Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure. Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch. His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs. The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips. Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him. But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.
Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.
You gave a laugh. “Much.” You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”
Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you. “I like you messy.” He stated.
“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.
He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans. “As much as I like that idea, no.” He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap. His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place. “It’s late. We should get you home.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.
Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms. “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.” You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”
“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered. You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.
He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access. “We both… need sleep.”
Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes. He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was. You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.
“Okay...” you softly agreed.
“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”
“I’d like that.” you smiled.
You couldn’t wait.
#aizawa shouta#Shouta Aizawa#Aizawa x reader#Aizawa x you#shouta x reader#Shouta x you#bnha smut#mha smut#aizawa smut#bnharem collab#Jazz Aizawa#Jazz AU#Music AU#BNHA music AU
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Whumptober No. 5
betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose
(Hockey AU)
***
He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.
Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay���s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.
“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”
Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.
If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.
Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.
And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.
MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR
The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky
His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”
It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.
“Dude, is that shit true?”
“Are you okay?”
“Do you know who it is?”
“You dog 😜”
“You never told me you were into that 👀”
“Ignore it, Buck.”
“We’re all with you.”
“Fuck that guy.”
“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”
“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”
From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.
“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”
“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”
“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”
His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.
There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.
“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”
“Have your teammates seen the post?”
“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”
Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.
Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)
Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?
Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?
Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.
Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now
🤣
And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina
{This post may contain explicit content}
😵💫
🤮
Excuse you, Gritty has standards
[98 more posts]
Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.
There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.
The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.
Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.
And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.
The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.
What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?
Were there more pictures?
It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.
When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.
The knock came again.
Then the door opened.
Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.
“Just me.”
“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.
“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”
Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.
“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”
The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”
And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”
Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.
This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.
“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.
“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”
“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.
“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”
Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.
“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”
“He’s not the only one who said it.”
“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”
Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”
His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.
“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.
“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”
He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.
“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”
Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”
There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.
As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”
“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”
One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,��� he said. “I’m so sorry.”
He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.
Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”
“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.
“Do you want to order something from-”
The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.
“Come on, Buck, really?”
Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”
“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”
“I have to.”
“No, you-”
“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”
“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”
“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”
A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”
“No,” Eddie said.
“Yes, Eddie. I have-”
“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”
“Eddie.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”
Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.
Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.
It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.
“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”
“Really?”
“Really. I think it’s done.”
Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.
The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.
#whumptober2021#no. 5#betrayal#fic#911#hanging out at the angst end of the spectrum#911fic#evan buckley#eddie diaz#hockey au#allison can’t write a short fic to save her life#minimal edits#messy ending#questionable formatting#230 am#😴
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I was gonna make a request based on your Eren x Gamer Reader post but then I saw you take poly requests... Erejean x Gamer Reader? (She/her pronouns btw ^_^)
sure thing anon! your brain is huge. i started a one shot which is now sitting in my drafts bc i literally dont know how to finish it. maybe i'll post it later but for now here you go headcanons woohoo
eren and jeans dynamic makes it look like its impossible for them to share a girlfriend but it actually? works surprisingly well?
arguing is kinda their love language in a very strange weird way. if theyre not fighting somethings wrong but their like constant bickering actually is rlly important to you three's relationship lmfaooo a lot of communicating is just eren and jean fighting and then you pick up on something they say and you three talk it out. plus its gets all their energy out at the end of the day... like when puppies run around in circles bc they didnt go on long enough walks
jean is the planner of the couple, always making sure you guys get tickets to see this that and whatever, always figures out how ur gonna get places and when everyone will be picked up, makes sure everyones schedules are free and that theres no big game release that you'll miss and eren doesnt have work and jean isnt volunteering
in terms of nerdiness jean is a decent middle ground between you (who says "ummm actually..." unironically) and eren (who thought dungeons and dragons was a kinky thing) because he lives with connie so he gets roped into playing stuff like rainbow six seige and watching battlestar galactica into late hours of the night. also he's an only child who was prone to boredom as a kid so he played video games like any other only child. that being said he has a more extroverted personality and aptitude for sports so he just never got as absorbed in it as you did
this kind of makes eren jealous tbh because he thinks jean has more to relate with you then him. but jealousy is like a natural feeling and despite his feigned reluctance jean is happy to share his knowledge with him.
plus eren realizes that what he lacks in video game and movie knowledge he makes up in anime bc jean is clueless on that front. once you went on this huge rant about how sailor moon would decimate goku in a fight and jean just goes "gokus the pirate with the fox spirit, right? hes trying to become number one pro hero right?"
speaking of eren eren and jean are on the same volleyball team (i hc they play volleyball bc theyre tall but i think theyd be cute on any sports team because im weak hearted) and you become their fave cheerleader <3 they look for you in the stands before each game and have their own little ritual for good luck. when he spots you jean jumps really high (despite the team captain, levi screams at him to save it for when the game starts) and makes a heart with his arms and blows you a kiss when he gets in the air and its so embarrassing so eren just dogpiles the embarassment but giving you an over exaggerated wink its the worst theyre gross
jean gets you into connie's discord server after you complain that people are really rude to you in online games and eren is quick to demand an invite too even though he literally plays nothing and has no idea how discord works. he will log in and ping you to show you a meme and even though connie's server is really chill with rules (like 10 ppl max, just some friends hanging out) he has always wanted to say "no memes in general" so he does it every time. you have to show eren how to use private messages once connie jokes abt eren being his discord kitten.
cuddle pile while watching movies... jean is a film buff so you three have movie nights rlly often. its usually you sandwiched in between them with jean behind you and eren in front of you so you can play with his hair. jean's movie taste is actually really broad and you and eren both find a ton of new favorites through him.
they both really like listening to you ramble. you can explain soooo much lore abt your fave series and theyre both really invested. eren is more invested in the characters while jean is more focused on what happens next, but theyre both listening rlly well and making sure you know they care. they kinda care in different ways though? while eren is just passionate and because he's so passionate he must know about all things you like, jean is either interested or just likes hearing your voice. of the two jean is more likely to give you short answers and he'll be more dozed off so he's good to go to when you just want to rant. eren is going to ask you more questions and get wayyy more confused so he's good to go to when you want to explain or flesh out your points.
jean finds eren's jealousy of fictional characters sooooo ridiculous. whenever eren is pouting about some new video game guy youre in love with jean is rolling his eyes because of course its eren jaeger he's just looking for things to get angry at. "what are they gonna do idiot, come out of the tv?" but then one day there's a character that looks a lot like eren and suddenly he understands everything. but he realizes you have a thing for guys with long hair. he'll keep the mullet around for a while
they both really like having you sat in their laps and (unbeknownst to you) in order to avoid conflict they created a system. cozy game? eren. reading? jean. watching anime? eren. watching something live action? jean. playing a game on your phone? eren. watching an analysis video for your favorite franchise? jean. just messing around on your computer? rock paper scissors, best of three. eren likes to hug you tight and rest his head on your shoulder while talking to you. when it gets quiet he'll nuzzle his face in your neck and give you small kisses there. while jean likes to put his hands under your shirt and rest it on your stomach while you two chat. he's puts his head on your head or throws it back depending on your height and kinda just likes letting his hands wander, like rubbing up and down your arms or tickling you lightly.
you: i hate this stupid game
eren: yeah babe that game fucking sucks (has never played it in his life)
jean: then stop playing it?
you and eren, at the same time: what? no.
all in all they are good boyfriends 10/10 would recommend.
#character: eren#character: jean#polyam//#first non eren post on this blog (that still has eren in it)#type: headcanons#i was sooo projecting on that rambling thing.... i ramble so much abt my hyperfixations and people get so mad at me#thats why i need 2d boy to listen....#pronouns: she/her#au: modern#au: university#snk x y/n#snk x you#snk x reader#snk fluff#aot x y/n#aot x you#aot x reader#aot imagines#jean x reader#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirstein x reader#how do you spell his name....
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《Without Envy》- concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj
[story board 1] [story board 2] [story board 3] [story board 4]
long post: story board 5 →
Lan Wangji, as it turned, was a true gentleman. This was problematic for Wei Wuxian, who was tasked with getting close to him, because Hanguang-wang’s upstanding morals being rather unimpeachable rendered Wei Wuxian’s initial seduction efforts entirely unsuccessful.
Lan Wangji straight up ignored him. Whenever he came to visit Jiang Yanli it was always to speak with her and not Wei Wuxian. It was like Wei Wuxian, or A-Xian as he was known, did not exist to the prince. Whenever Wei Wuxian tried to “get close” to him, aka, making himself available to serve tea, meals and such, Lan Wangji would always dismiss him, or tell him to wait outside so Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli could dine together alone.
Needless to say, Wei Wuxian was getting increasingly frustrated.
Entirely unbeknownst to Wei Wuxian however was the fact that Lan Wangji had noticed him from the start and was just trying to stop himself from doing something inappropriate. Truth is, Lan Wangji first saw Wei Wuxian at Jiang-fu during one of Lan Wangji’s visits to finalize the marriage between himself and Jiang Yanli.
It was the dogs’ barking that got Lan Wangji’s attention first. That, and a young man’s agitated cursing.
“Fuck - ow! Princess that was not nice! I’m going to turn you into barbeque if you don’t cut this shi - Ow! Jasmine, give it here!”
Lan Wangji’s personal guards Guo Ai and Sun Ting made to investigate the source of the ruckus and to tell off whoever dared to be so impertinent and disrespectful in a marquis’s manor, but Lan Wangji stopped them with a subtle gesture.
Slowly, he approached the round archway looking into the garden and saw by the shrubs a handsome young man cradling a fuzzy tiny thing while trying his darnedest to fend off two relentless hounds. “Shoo, shoo, go bother your master!”
But the dogs wanted to play. Their bushy tails wagged happily.
Eventually, the young man tired of the over enthusiastic canines, picked up a stick off the ground, and tossed it far over the garden walls. The dogs took off running, and he and the little creature he protected were allowed a moment’s peace.
“Little tutu, it’s okay, the mean dogs are gone now. Don’t be afraid.”
It was only then that Lan Wangji saw that the furry round thing was a small bunny, probably driven from its burrow by the aforementioned hounds that belonged to Jiang-xiao-gongzi. He watched, slightly transfixed, as the young man lifted the bunny and gently booped its nose against his own, his comely face scrunching up adorably in the process.
So when Wei Wuxian arrived at the prince’s estate with Jiang Yanli, Lan Wangji cursed his luck. He had no intentions of becoming attracted or attached to anyone in his harem. His marriages were political games. Everything he did in his harem was calculated. The last thing he needed was for the Jins to think they could sink their claws into him. So he kept company with all his concubines equally, just to maintain the balance. Lan Wangji did not want Jin Ziyan to be the only man in his harem, which was why when Qin Su offered him Mo Xuanyu, he did not refuse. It was fortunate that Mo Xuanyu himself seemed eager to serve too, so Lan Wangji did not have to grapple with ethics there. He was doing this for his country; everyone knew this. As long as he kept to his duties and divided his attentions equally, there would be trouble in his harem.
Except...Lan Wangji wanted to see ‘A-Xian’ again. The more he wanted, the more he made himself keep his distance. He recognized the power dynamic that existed between this servant and himself, and that if he were to ask, A-xian was not really in a position to refuse.
Besides, Jiang Yanli made no indications that she wanted her A-Xian to serve Lan Wangji. In fact, she seemed quite protective of him, always looking out for him wherever she could. She practically treated him like a little brother than a servant. As such, Lan Wangji was happy with the way things were. He could live with never knowing A-Xian more intimately. In fact, he did not want A-Xian to be ordered to serve him, or find out that A-Xian was just like every other man and woman in his harem, there to curry favours with him. It would be a shame if he turned out to be just another flower in the garden, another player in this game they played.
Of course Wei Wuxian read this whole situation as: that little bastard Lan Wangji doesn’t like me.
Xue Yang was charged with being Wei Wuxian’s correspondence between Gusu and Qishan but ended up just being the guy Wei Wuxian complained to.
—“Is this Hanguang-wang truly a paragon of virtues???” Wei Wuxian raged. “Aren’t princes supposed to be lechers? Wen Chao certainly is a sleeze. Wen Xu could be too for all we know. I’m young, fit, attractive and available. I know he likes men so why not me? He sleeps with Mo Xuanyu all the time apparently …Is Mo Xuanyu more attractive than me?!”
Xue Yang: >_> God I miss murders.
Wei Wuxian’s “opportunity” came when Jiang Yanli fell mysteriously ill about three months after she married Lan Wangji. When the physicians were left scratching their heads, Wei Wuxian quickly took the matter into his own hands. He needed Jiang Yanli alive; if she died before he made an impression on Lan Wangji, he could be sent away back to Jiang-fu and threaten his entire operation. What’s more, Jiang Yanli had been extremely kind to him in the last two years since he arrived at Gusu. She truly was the perfect lady; he would hate to see her suffer.
Through some crafty investigations, Wei Wuxian discovered that the cause of Jiang Yanli’s illness was a slow poison being laced into her food by Jin Ziyan’s orders. The motive of his actions were obvious enough; ever since Jiang Yanli married in, Lan Wangji seemed to be showing her extra favour, favours which he never distributed unevenly prior to her entering his household. Jin Ziyan did not want Jiang Yanli as a competition. She was a marquess’s dichu daughter, much higher in rank than either Qin Su or Luo Qingyang, and therefore posed serious threat to becoming Lan Wangji’s legal spouse. In a way, she was Jin Ziyan’s biggest competitor, and he couldn’t have that.
What Jin Ziyan didn’t know was that Lan Wangji visited Jiang Yanli so much because he wanted to catch glimpses of Wei Wuxian, even though he dismissed Wei Wuxian from the room every time he saw him (the man was clearly a masochist).
Wei Wuxian managed to sniff out the poison before it could cause lasting damages, but the effect of it was going on for long enough that Jiang Yanli still had an early term miscarriage before she even knew she was pregnant. Wei Wuxian, incensed by Jiang Yanli’s suffering, was ready to expose Jin Ziyan, but was ordered not to by Wen Zhuliu. ‘We still need Jin Ziyan’ was his reasoning. Still, Wei Wuxian managed to tip off the investigators such that they detected and put an end to the poisoning, but the culprit was ultimately never caught.
As this played out, Wei Wuxian realized that now was his chance to get close to Lan Wangji. With Jiang Yanli recuperating...surely the Jiang family would want someone else of their clan to serve Lan Wangji in her place, someone who could keep Lan Wangji’s attention but would not replace Jiang Yanli’s place in the harem. It did not take much to lead Yu Ziyuan to the same conclusion. To ensure that he would have ample time with Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian secretly slipped a special sedative into Jiang Yanli’s food and drink to mimic the symptoms of a slow recovery. The sedative was one of Qishan’s secret formulations and could not be detected by Gusu’s finest doctors.
But Jiang Yanli, bless her heart, did not want the boy who she’d come to see as a little brother to be used like an object. "A-niang, I don't want to force A-Xian to do things he doesn't want to. I will get better, dianxia will not abandon me."
— Yu Ziyuan tsked, "Silly girl, serving Lan Wangji in your stead is his entire purpose for coming with you. Every family must plan for something like this; someone to hold onto Lan Wangji's interest while you're indisposed. Men are fickle, child. You need time to recover and someone will need to remind Hanguang-wang that you still matter when you’re ready again. We cannot let him forget you. Think of what this would mean for our clan."
Much to Yu Ziyuan’s delight, Lan Wangji came to check on Jiang Yanli while she was visiting, and Madam Yu had no qualms making hints that it would be the Jiang family’s honour if Hanguang-wang allowed ‘A-Xian’ to serve him while Yanli recovered. Wei Wuxian did not protest. Why would he? This was his orchestration after all, but when he dared raise his gaze from the floor to look at Lan Wangji, he detected a hint of something in Lan Wangji’s face…something like disappointment.
Wei Wuxian relayed this to Xue Yang and the other evil gremlin sucked on a candied apricot and said with a roll of his eyes：
—“You’re so dense, shixiong, tsk. Men like Lan Wangji could have any man or woman he wants. If you go along with Madam Yu’s orders, you’ll just to be like everyone else, another ambitious servant trying to socially advance. He’ll fuck you and forget you within a blink of an eye.”
— Wei Wuxian sipped his liquor and grimaced. “Fine, what do you suggest I do then?
— Xue Yang smirked, “Oh, haven’t you heard? Men like roses with thorns. When you’re brought to him tonight, don’t play along. Don’t humour him. Refuse him.”
— Wei Wuxian： >_> Is this how you got those Daoist priests in bed with you?
— Xue Yang smirked shamelessly, “Worked, innit?”
Listen, Lan Wangji was fully prepared to have some emotionless sex with Wei Wuxian okay? Boy was prepared to just go through the motions. He was disappointed to know that A-Xian turned out to be no better than any other servant in his harem: eager to climb his bed.
Being a concubine was stupid work, Wei Wuxian realized belatedly.
After dinner, Jiang Yanli bid him goodbye with worried eyes as the momos and gugus of Hanguang-fu dragged him away to be bathed and prepped for the prince’s enjoyment later that night. (gugu, momo - older female servants)
Wei Wuxian was not a dirty person - sure, he worked hard, but he bathed regularly - they did not have to scrub that roughly. As they practically scrapped off a layer of skin, the momos rattled on and on about how he should “conduct” himself in the presence of dianxia and how he should position himself to best please him.
What the actual fuck. Wei Wuxian resisted the urge to pull a face. Did the ladies get the same banal talk? How fucking boring was the sex around here? Wei Wuxian wasn’t born yesterday alright? He knew how to fuck.
...Well fine, he didn’t, but he and Xue Yang had sucked each other off once or twice, so that should count for something.
Once the attendants were satisfied with the state of him - hair brushed, skin cleaned and lotioned, callouses removed - they rolled him in a large full-body sized blanket, placed him in a sedan and ordered the servants to carry him to Lan Wangji’s chamber.
Wei Wuxian tried not to make an exasperated grimace when the servants literally picked him up like a log and deposited him on the prince’s large bed.
Fucking...seriously?
He did not remember this bullshit when zhangjie married in...but then again Jiang Yanli did marry in. There was a ceremony and everything. Lan Wangji was very respectful that night, bowing to her before lifting her veil as a gentleman ought to. So what the fuck is this barbaric treatment? Just as he pondered on these questions, the tulle canopy parted, and Lan Wangji’s handsome face and broad chest came into view. Undressed to his inner most layer of robes and his ink black hair let loose, he looked very much like a man ready to ravish his new concubine, but somehow, Wei Wuxian could not detect a trace of interest on that jade-like face.
Despite knowing this was all an act, just a means to an end, Wei Wuxian shivered when Lan Wangji reached for the edge of the blanket that encased him.
He pulled the blankets closer, shrinking deeper inside.
“Don’t be afraid,” said Lan Wangji. “I won’t hurt you.”
Time to act, Wei Wuxian. Give it your best shot.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then why do you hide?”
Wei Wuxian waited a meaningful second before meeting Lan Wangji’s gaze dead on and said, “Because I don’t want to.”
Nonplussed, Lan Wangji raised an elegant eye brow in return. “Oh? Is that so? Or are those just words? Perhaps you've confused what kind of place a harem is. If you do not want to, why are you here?”
Is my act not convincing enough or is this stupid asshole so confident in his attractiveness that he thinks everyone must automatically want to fuck him? Slightly ticked off now, Wei Wuxian sat up, still holding the blanket to his chest and retorted hotly, “I am not confused, dianxia. Perhaps you are unable to comprehend the idea that someone as lowly as a servant would refuse when given the opportunity to ascend in rank, but nevertheless, that doesn’t change my position. I don't want to. I am here because Lianfang-jun appointed me; there was hardly any room in that decision for me to argue. If you are determined to have me, I will not resist, because I understand my place. But I am a person, not a thing or a broodmare for you breed. I have some dignity left, and at the very least, before you...before you hold me down and fuck me, I want you to know."
Wei Wuxian half wondered if his act had gone a little overboard. The expletives maybe were just a tad too dramatic, but then again...
...seeing how Lan Wangji's entire stance shifted, maybe not.
Lan Wangji withdrew his hand. He had mistaken Wei Wuxian’s initial unwillingness as coquettish posturing, but the heat in those dark, bright eyes could not be faked.
“Those words could get you into a lot of trouble when spoken to the wrong person. Have the momos not taught you the rules?”
Wei Wuxian squared his shoulders. “They have, but I place trust in Hanguang-wang’s reputation, that you are a true gentleman and would not force me against my will.” Then, just as he practiced, Wei Wuxian lowered his eyes. “I am a servant, your servant, and I know it is my duty to serve you in any way you command me, but I -...please find other use of me, dianxia, but not this.”
He startled a little when a warm hand found purchase under his chin and lifted up his face. Lan Wangji inspected him wordlessly with those cold, sharp eyes, searching for lies, for pretense. Wei Wuxian held his breath, praying he won’t be found out, but eventually, when the prince and his calculation deemed him good enough, he let go.
“Very well.”
Lan Wangji fetched a pair of clean inner robes and trousers from the wardrobe and handed them to Wei Wuxian. “Get dressed and move over.” Without waiting for Wei Wuxian to respond, he sat himself down on the edge of the bed and began to remove his socks and shoes.
Wei Wuxian moved quickly, shrugging on the robes and tied it in place before shoving the trousers under the covers to try and pulling them up his legs. “You’re...you’re not leaving?”
Lan Wangji glared at him over his shoulder. “This is my room, my bed. Why should I leave?”
Right. Right.
“But you’re not...sending me away?”
Lan Wangji frowned as though questioning his intelligence. “Would you like me to send you away? I should think that would reflect badly on you and your mistress.”
That did give Wei Wuxian pause. “Uh, well –”
“Your declining to be my bedfellow does not impede my fulfilling my side of the arrangement. You will leave in the morning, and the others will think that I found you pleasing enough to keep you the whole night. That should give Jiang-fu’ren and the Yunmeng Jiang clan sufficient face."
“I could sleep on the floor.”
“Do you want to sleep on the floor?” Lan Wangji swung his legs onto the bed and arranged the blankets to his liking. “The doors are never locked. Servants and sentinels must be allowed in to check on me during the night for security purposes. It would not bode well if they found you lying on the floor.”
Right, yeah that would defeat the whole purpose.
“Oh.”
Lan Wangji lay down and crossed his hands over his chest. “Lie down, sleep. I have morning court assembly, and I’m tired. If you’re going to stay, don’t be a disturbance.”
Feeling like he’d lost all semblance of control in this situation, Wei Wuxian awkwardly laid himself down beside Lan Wangji. The bed was big enough for the two of them that there was space in between even when both of them lay flat on their backs.
Lan Wangji lifted up just a second to blow out the bedside candle, and then there was total darkness.
Wasn’t I suppose to seduce him? What the fuck is this? Okay...maybe I have no idea how to seduce him...maybe I have no idea how to do anything that’s not straight up strangling him in his sleep.
Wei Wuxian could feel his heart thudding in his chest, panic coiling tighter and tighter. He almost wished Lan Wangji had ignored his protest and took him, because then it’d be straight forward. As it were, he had no idea how to proceed now.
Just as Wei Wuxian was being slowly consumed by his maelstrom of thoughts, Lan Wangi suddenly spoke into the dark.
"I am not a heartless bastard, you should know."
Huh?
"I never implied that."
“You did.” Lan Wangji gave a little shake of his head. “I do not want this anymore than the others in the harem. You said I treat my women like broodmares, but perhaps you have not considered that Gusu treats me like a stallion."
Wei Wuxian was momentarily speechless.
“Your mistress is very kind and gentle. I am sorry that the child in her belly was lost; I know she very much wanted to be a mother. I see that you are very protective of her, so you should know, I would never hurt her. Even if she were to never recover her strength, I would not let harm come to her.”
Those words, softly spoken, tugged at Wei Wuxian’s conscience, if not his heartstrings. “Dianxia -”
“Sleep. Good night.”
The next morning Wei Wuxian woke up to knocking on the door. The sun was already high in the sky and the bed was empty of Lan Wangji’s presence.
A group of maids entered carrying a basin of water, towels and clean clothes.
Wei Wuxian, dazed, asked, "Where's danxia?"
One of the maid giggled. "Dianxia left at dawn to attend morning assembly at the palace. You must not know; he wakes up very early. He said not to wake you, and to let you sleep. He said," The others giggled with her. “He said that you've had a long night."
To the great surprise of everyone, Lan Wangji did not elevate Jiang Yanli’s servant A-Xian to concubine status after the ‘long night’ they had together. Instead he ordered A-Xian to be transferred to his court to be his close-quarter attendant, to serve him in his every day tasks.
Wei Wuxian did not exactly understand why Lan Wangji would make this particularly decision, but he did not complain. After all this was exactly what he wanted, to be close to Lan Wangji and earn his trust.
Lan Wangji, on the other hand, was content to have Wei Wuxian close by, secure in the knowledge ‘A-Xian’ did not wish to spread his legs to socially advance. Perhaps, if he dared to hope, he could finally have someone to speak to in this lonely manor full of people who only saw the crown hanging above his head.
Xue Yang was of the opinion that this was all going to end badly.
He was right.
[next]
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Fic Rec (it's been too long and I read a whole lot of fics)
I've read so many fics these past couple of months and my need to share them to the world has seized me by the throat. Please enjoy and support these fanfic writers! They are the best. XD
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[Naruto]
Nine-Tailed Foxes are Dead by RowlettLesbian
Ship: Shikamaru/Naruto
For Konoha, it's been one month since the preliminary Chunin exams. For Naruto, it's been six. And he wasn't in Konoha.
At the end of his ordeal, Naruto walks into the Chunin Exam finals without his left arm.
Shikamaru is very concerned. And, eventually, very precious to Naruto as they work together to solve the mysteries of Konoha and bring kindness to the Shinobi world, one adventure at a time.
(I would die for this fic. I know the summary sounds doom and gloom but IT'S NOT. This fic made me fucking cry, I don't think I've ever read a fic that characterized Naruto so right. He's so full of hope and love and develops into the best version of himself and I'm so HERE FOR IT. And it's not just Naruto, Shikamaru is absolutely amazing here along with Kakashi and surprise surprise Ino, I can't BELIEVE it took me this long to stumble across this fic. Also THE WORLDBUILDING IS TO DIE FOR!!! And the plot! Is! So! Interesting! Just, everything about this fic is just amazing so please PLEASE read this!!!)
The End of the Uchiha by RowlettLesbian
Ship: Naruto/Sasuke
“I promise, little electric spirit of this shrine,” he whispered into the soft dirt and fallen leaves, “I will never gain the eyes. I will never pass them on. And I will make sure the eyes end in my brother, so that they can’t hurt anybody anymore. I will be the last Uchiha, and see to the end of the Copy-Wheel Clan. Then all of the hatred here can stop, and my family can rest peacefully. I promise, little shrine.”
Sasuke is more than his brother thinks he is. He's more than any Uchiha has ever been. He will kill his brother, but it will not be vengeance.
It will be mercy.
(Same author as the one above, they are the gift that keeps on giving. Seriously, HOW did I NEVER FIND THESE FICS before now??? One of life's greatest mysteries. The author's sense of humor is so on point here along with the atmospheric writing that's so vivid in the mind. Their writing style is so recognizable to me now and makes me fall into the world they're creating, it's stunning. Sasuke here makes me want to hug him and the idea of him living like a feral ghibli character has me LIVING. Check the tags of the fic, all of it is true, hand to god. Please give all of the author's fics a shot, it's a rabbit hole I'm thankful I fell into!)
mil fantasmas (gritan en calma) by LegaciesandMemories
Post-Tsukuyomi, something in Uchiha Sasuke's mind shatters. The same night, Yamanaka Ino falls asleep and doesn't wake up for 15 days.
---
In which Ino and Sasuke both wake from the aftermath of the Uchiha Massacre with the ability to see ghosts, and no one is prepared for the fallout.
(This fic has arrested my curiosity and eagerness to know what will happen next. These poor kids need so many hugs and Ino is getting the spotlight she deserves. I am so excited for this fic and what it has in store! Please read! XD)
Lichtenberg Figures by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)
Name: Kakashi Hatake
Rank: Jounin
Status: Missing Nin
Missing Since: June 15th, 271 AD
Note: Flee on Sight
.
.
.
Haburashi looked his team in the eyes— three, fresh out of the Academy genin— and resolved to teach them as best as he could. And right now, his lesson was simple:
“Stay. Away. From. Kakashi. Hatake.”
(Dimension travel fic with a slice of Kakashi being an absolute troll and dealing with the shitty hand he's been dealt with. Seriously, the man has the worst luck in all of Konoha. Also, the mystery of the other Kakashi's history has me leaning by the edge of my seat, I need to know.)
The Governess by Ysmirel
Ship: Kakashi/OFC
"“What,” he finally asked, “is so funny?”
Ibara bit her lower lip to keep the chuckles in, still smiling and making absolutely no effort to get more space between them, seemingly perfectly at ease within reach of a trained shinobi. Her self-control wasn't all that good, as she ended up snorting and was overcame once again by another fit of laughter. “I just- It's just-” She struggled to speak, trying to catch her breath and wiping away tears of mirth with the hand that wasn't still holding onto his vest. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, with a smile that was all teeth and without a hint of her previous drunken stupor, “and who's going to believe you?”
As he stood there, stunned by her words and change in demeanor, he realized with dawning horror that she was right."
In which Kakashi finds himself at the other end of the troll shtick, and he doesn't appreciate it all that much.
(It's so hard to find self-insert fics with a fresh concept these days, especially in the naruto fandom. Not that I don't enjoy and devour a lot of self insert fics like it's going out of style, but it's just so nice to find something new and shiny and really damn good. I'm so pumped for this fic and how it's going to develop so please join me in rooting for this fic!)
half a league (until the valley of death) by SpectersShadow117
Kakashi can think of no reason for Sasuke's inexplicable and drastic change in behavior. He doesn't like the desperate, haunted gleam in his student's eyes, and he also doesn't like the nagging feeling that he's missing something very important.
Aka: Future Sasuke goes to Past Sasuke and gives him a reality check with Specific Intentions, but as with most Uchiha, his methods leave much to be desired.
(Featuring: Childhood trauma FTW, Konoha's shitty care of orphans, and absolutely no one having a fun time.)
(Sasuke wanting to change the future out of complete and utter spite has me LIVING. Sasuke is such a Mess here and the twist on the time travel premise is so good and the kid is so Traumatized and Desperate and Not Having A Good Time. Naruto and Sakura developing as better ninjas and Kakashi trying his best makes me want to scream. Also, how Sasuke thinks about Itachi makes me want to cackle. I am 100% down for this. I am rooting for this kid, go get them! XD)
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[Harry Potter]
fruit loops in time (circle around me) by justprompts
Ships: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius
"This is Crabbe, and Goyle," the blonde boy says, pointing at the two boys next to him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Ma - "
Ron laughs, and Malfoy immediately bristles.
"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy says, angrily. "No need to ask yours - "
"You're honestly so cute," Ron interrupts, yet again, shaking his head. "So tiny. And so angry, all the time. It's adorable."
Alternatively
Ron Weasley, Time Traveller Extraordinaire, is stuck in the same seven year Hogwarts Loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Naturally, he's so done with everything.
(This is the greatest hp fic I've ever read. I LOVE RON WEASLEY and by the time you read this fic SO WILL YOU!! This is the fic I WISH I have the ability to write. I read this entire fic aloud to my brother and we spent literal hours howling and talking about how utterly insane and incredible this fic is, it's amazing. This is hands down my favorite Ron Weasley. You Can Pry This Fic From My Cold Dead Fingers.)
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[Boku no Hero Academia]
Kacchan's Cult by Ourliazo
Pro Hero Ground Zero is attacked, originally meant to be de-aged out of existence by a desperate villain but is instead launched into his 14-year-old self.
But Katsuki is a fucking pro so whatever, time to fuck up someone's day. And sure, maybe he's only one man, but that's why he conscripts the entirety of the UA student body into tearing down some criminal empires.
(It's time travel, crack, and Bakugou being his usual explody, competent self. What more in life do you want? Seriously though, please read. I'm obsessed with this fic and having a Good Time!)
Cleaning Crew; Teaching Kids to Value their Safety, for Fun and Profit by Reavv
Takenaka Hideo is a thirty-two year old, in mild desperation for money, who has just been hired as a new janitor for UA's support staff. He has a quirk that lets him find lost objects, a liaison with the police because of it, and desperate desire for competent co-workers.
Oh, and he's already lived a previous life, in a world where quirks and heroes didn't even exist.
Not a big deal, though. It's not like you ever see the janitor playing a big part in action movies. He's here to get paid, and that's it.
On the opposite side of the equation, class 1-A has to wonder at the new UA cryptid that always seems to show up when things are on fire, and who keeps trying to convince them to let the adults handle the fire extinguisher.
(A great deal of fun packed into one fic. That is how I title this fic and nothing will change my mind! Hideo just wants to quietly do his job and not get in the way. I Relate. Please read!)
Poltergeist by WriterGreenReads
Class 1-A is haunted.
Well, not really.
I AM dead, though.
World's friendliest poltergeist, at your service.
(I don't know how I got so sucked into OC fics, but I found some fantastic fics along the way so I have no regrets. The author really tries to push the premise and I just love all the interactions and dynamics that form as the fic gets further in. And the OC character and all the hijinks they get up to cracks me up! At the same time, it's pretty heartwarming and it's practically a friendships galore fic! Definitely recommend it!)
invincible by supercrunch for Engrin
Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya
This is the way the world works: the sun rises in the east. The strong come out on top. Bakugou Katsuki rockets through life like a comet and Midoriya Izuku stumbles after. If he believed in such things Katsuki would say it was written in the stars. That some god of war had looked at him and said this one. That he’d been passed along a line to get his blessings – genius, willpower, fearless ambition – and dropped off on earth.
Then, of course, there is the question of Deku. The spitfire runt. Deku, no matter what the world does to him, never stops hoping.
Until, of course, he eventually does.
(Katsuki broke him. Snapped him in half like a twig and now has to scramble to put Deku back together. “We can do this, Deku," he says slowly. "There are so many mysteries that never got put to bed. Criminals roaming around looking to hurt people and you and me, we can fix that.”
There’s a long pause. The comforter slips a little off Deku’s skinny shoulders and drowns him. “You mean like a team?”
In that split second, Katsuki makes a decision he’s never even considered. He swallows his pride. “Yeah, Deku. We’d be a team.”)
(If there was any other way canon could've gone, this is the story I would've wanted. It's perfect.)
Inadvertent Wilderness Therapy by Cacid
Following an unfortunate encounter with a teleporter on the last day of internships, Bakugou Katsuki and Hakamata Tsunagu spend some quality time in northern Canada.
In no particular order they will: build ugly survival shelters, stalk rabbits, run from polar bears, reflect on the chemical composition of trees, insult each other, and complain about krumholtz.
(THESE TWO. TOGETHER. IN THE WILDERNESS. IN FUCKING CANADA OF ALL PLACES. I still can't believe this fic actually exists and just how INVESTED I became in their relationship. Blue Jeanist instantly became my favorite ranked hero with this fic alone. HIS SENSE OF HUMOR IS TERRIBLE, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH FNIEWOPAF. BAKUGOU DOES TOO. IT'S FUCKING INCREDIBLE. *incoherent screeching into the wild*)
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[Stranger Things]
Baci D'aria by RabbitDarling
“Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.”
― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic
Steve learned a lot at his Aunt's side before she passed but his favourite thing she taught him was baci d'aria; special little spells that you created from the heart and put into the food you shared.
In opening his heart and gifts to those around him Steve slowly finds himself a family in a way he never thought he'd get to experience. One by One he collects pre-teens to trail in his wake like ducklings and Steve can't even refute it by the time he realizes what has happened.
(This fic is so soft and Steve is just collecting people and winning them over with his magical food (literally). I am always a sucker for heartwarming, good for the soul fics so if you want to make yourself hungry and feel all warm and gooey inside, read this!)
(Don't Fear) The Reaper by TeaFourTwo
Ship: Steve/Billy
He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.
Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.
“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.
--
Billy dies a hero of sorts. He wakes up back in his bed on Saturday morning, the third of November, 1984...nearly nine months earlier.
(Billy is stuck in a time loop and it's slowly driving him crazy. And the fic shows just how much influence Billy did have in the plot and how doomed the world is without him in it. Great character exploration with Billy's character and all the ways he's so messy and human. Definitely recommend it!)
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[Knives Out]
The Road Less Traveled By by UisceOneLove
Ship: Marta/Ransom
If Harlan wants to leave Ransom to be on his own, fine. He'll show him just what Ransom Drysdale is capable of.
or, where Ransom chooses to prove his abilities through means of the non-homicidal variety and finds himself becoming exactly what Harlan was hoping he would.
(I found this fic out of sheer chance and god, Ransom is just, so fascinating to me as a character. Marta of course is the Best here and I will forever stan her. Seriously, this is such a good fic! Please read!)
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[Haikyuu!!]
Sky Full of Stars by grilledsquids
The Hinatas are twins. They're practically identical.
But while Shouyou seeks out Karasuno's volleyball team to become the next Little Giant, Natsu is scouted to to play soccer for Shiratorizawa. While Shouyou sets his eyes on playing volleyball at the highest level possible, his sister wonders how much longer she can play soccer... and if it's worth it to keep going.
A Natsu-centric story featuring: Shiratorizawa VBC shenanigans, too many soccer OCs, mild teenage drama, a little bit of plot, and Semi Eita not knowing what a period is.
(It's just!! So cute and wholesome!!! The Shiratorizawa volleyball team is so fleshed out along with the OC characters for the girl's soccer team and I swear, it's been a long while since I've laughed this much at the sheer shenanigans that happen in a fic. It's surprisingly hard to find good gen fics in this fandom so finding this gem made me so happy! If you want a fic that brings a smile to your face, read this!!)
like water by speakingincode
Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama
“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, and when Tooru looks at him, he can read My best friend’s an idiot off the crease of his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you spent the last three years weirdly obsessed with Kageyama – I still remember the time you made us play him on a dumb whim, you know – and now you’re at his beck and call? Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m— I’m not at his beck and call! I said no last week. It’s… It’s like you said. I get bored easily. I saw him at the park a couple weeks after they played Nationals and called him a perfect little tyrant, and he pestered me into spending time with him after,” Tooru says. “I’m not a monster, Iwa-chan. If he wants the company of his cool, handsome ex-upperclassman that badly, who am I to begrudge him?”
Or: Oikawa doesn't know why Kageyama keeps asking to meet him on Saturdays. He also doesn't know why he keeps saying yes.
(The fact this fic is canon-compliant and covers post-canon too makes me want to shout to the heavens. Fucking incredible! One of the best Oikakage fics ever and it's a crime how it's not at the top of the ship tag. Please please read!!)
twist into your shape by kakkoweeb
Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama
The only thing better than sweets were sweets containing paper that told you whether your future would be good or bad--or in Kageyama and Oikawa's case, paper that somehow caused you to live inside each other's bodies.
(Everyone probably already read this fic but it needs to be said, you need to read this fic. How these two try and manage each other's lives and slowly start to care about one another is so beautiful and sincere and I am ready to wrestle anyone to the floor and comply them into reading this fic. Doesn't matter if you like the ship, you will become a fan if you read it, I promise. Please please read!!)
Take the Long Road Home by pepperfield
Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura
When Azumane Asahi goes missing before his engagement meeting with Kozume Kenma, what other option is there but for Daichi to impersonate his brother and fake his way through a first date with Asahi's fiance?
Okay, let's be realistic - there were probably at least four other options.
Unfortunately, Tetsurou couldn't come up with any of them either, so now he's here flirting with Kenma's future husband while trying to keep his web of deceit from collapsing.
It's going to be an eventful day.
(I got obsessed with this ship alongside Oikakage and SO WILL YOU. THE POTENTIAL. THE BANTER. THE FACT THEY'RE BOTH DORKS AND THE FIC HAS IDENTITY SHENANIGANS DANCING ALL OVER IT!! I had so much fun reading this and these two are MEANT TO BE FENIWPAF. If you don't see the potential of this ship, you will now.)
a misunderstanding a day keeps the boyfriend away by bartallen for betuls
Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura
Kuroo doesn’t fall in love hard and fast like many others do – he falls slowly, and very very softly. Most of the times he doesn’t even realise he’s in love with someone until it’s too late.
(Kuroo is the dumbest man alive and I've never related to someone so hard in my life. God help me.)
You like me. by roseknight
Ship: Daishou/Kuroo
Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.
(I didn't even know who Daishou was until I read this fic and now I can't unsee the potential this ship has. I'm a ruined woman and I regret NOTHING.)
Kings of the Road, Kings of the Universe by EzzyDean
Eight magical captains, one bus, an entire summer (and country) waiting for them.
What could possibly go wrong?
(The magic of friendship meets the magic of a summer road trip meets pure magic.)
(CAPTAIN SQUAD IS THE BEST SQUAD SOMEBODY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME SOME CAPTAIN SQUAD FICS I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS SQUAD IT'S A PROBLEM AAAAHHHHHH!)
宿縁 : See You Soon by MissKiraBlue
Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama
Upon arriving at the train station of death, an impure soul is granted a second chance at life against his will. Reincarnating into the body of Kageyama Tobio, a 15-year-old boy who recently committed suicide. Tobio's soul will depart at death and the soul needs to slip in to replace it. If the soul's reformation succeeds, he’ll reenter the cycle of rebirth and regain the right to be reborn. He will have three months to accomplish this task.
“Even though you had enough of life,” the soul whispered into the void of the room, “you were still afraid to hurt your hands, Tobio.”
Afraid of giving himself a scar, if he survived.
He touched his pulse and grasped life and couldn’t help but pity Kageyama Tobio.
"You wanted to die and now I’m here making you live again," he whispered into the night.
(I'm not even exaggerating when I say out of all the fics in this entire goddamn, too long list, this is the fic I'm anticipating and heart eyeing the most. It's only starting, but I already cried on chapter fucking 2, the power of this fic, holy shit. The author also wrote the hq time loop Every Tomorrows series, which I have an undying love for and am full on praying for the day it updates, so you KNOW this fic will be just as good. (Anybody who hasn't read this series, where the hell have you been?? Read it!!) Just, everything about this fic hurts me and something in my chest just aches when I read this fic. Go into it blind with an open heart and I swear to you, it's going to change your life. I'm already calling it. Seriously though, please please read!)
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[Crossover]
Learning to Fly by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)
Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, Naruto
The number three hero is a walking (well, flying) contradiction in every sense of the word.
This includes his teaching skills.
Why had Tokoyami agreed to this internship again?
Oh right. He’d thought he was actually going to learn something.
…….remind him to never be so optimistic again.
.
.
.
OR, Kakashi Hatake is reincarnated as the pro hero, Hawks. Tokoyami Fumikage suffers as a result.
(The reincarnation fic I never thought I needed and it's so good!! I've never really paid attention to Tokoyami and this fic sent me headfirst into loving him. Their dynamic is so interesting and I just love how their relationship develops. Also, Kakashi trolling the poor kid made me cackle, it's great! Definitely recommend it!)
Si Vis Pacem by athenoot
Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, John Wick
Everything has a price. That's what John has always known and will forever remember, even in death.
Which is pretty ironic considering his current circumstance.
Instead of a grown, scarred, weary body belonging to a man as cruel and broken as him, he's inhabiting a younger, smaller, unblemished one belonging to a child with strangely colored hair, and is living in what seems to be a superhuman society.
Well. May it never be said that John isn't a strategist. He can live with this. Maybe.
(Somewhere out there in the universe, he's certain he could hear the laughter of his enemies from beyond the grave.)
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Or: John Wick is reincarnated as Midoriya Izuku. The world should probably watch its back.
(This should be one of the crackiest fics I've read in a while, but it's taken so seriously and I'm so HERE FOR THIS. John Wick being John Wick in a world of quirks and heroes is the GREATEST, honestly, he's so badass. Bakugou, I feel for you, you must be so fucking confused lol. Bakugou trying his best to be a good friend is one of the best things about this fic. Trust me, this fic will make your day, promise!)
A Girl's Mind is a Dangerous Place by clenastia
Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail
Natsu wakes up in Sakura's body. It only gets worse from there. Also known as: In Which Natsu has No Idea what to do with Boobs.
(I binged this in two fucking days, I couldn't put it down. This fic reminded me why I liked fairy tail when I was younger and why Natsu is honestly such a great protagonist, god. And the fic does that thing, you know, the Thing where when two worlds collide, the characters struggle to acclimate and adapt to a completely another world with different rules and mindsets against their own. This fic is seriously one of the best when it comes to that aspect, it's incredible. I am going absolutely feral over here for this fic to update, I'm waiting in the wings, ready to pounce like a tiger, all the metaphors man. For the love of god, read this fic.)
Give me a landscape made of obstacles by Melise
Fandoms: Naruto, Natsume's Book of Friends
Kakashi Hatake isn’t who he says he is.
Because the truth is that he’s actually a youkai in disguise, a wolf spirit named Madara who stumbled across the Hatake clan during the Warring States Period. Intrigued by the shinobi he saw, he’d proposed a temporary alliance in which he would offer the clan protection in exchange for their teachings.
Decades later, Madara is surprised to find himself inadvertently summoned to Konoha by the last living member of the Hatake clan. Sakumo Hatake, who is mourning the recent deaths of his wife and stillborn child, doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So with his permission, Madara takes the place of Sakumo’s deceased son in order to watch over the last Hatake.
(Fusion in which the youkai of Natsume’s Book of Friends all exist in the Naruto world. No knowledge of Natsume’s Book of Friends required).
(Before this fic, I only had a very vague idea of what Natsume's Book of Friends was, and honestly, I still don't know much about it. But I didn't really need to know to get into this fic. I love the worldbuilding and the relationships Kakashi forms, both supernatural and mortal. I love how Kakashi's inhumane ways affect others around him, whether to stress them out or become used to the strange. You can go straight into this fic without knowing anything and absolutely still have a fantastic time. I definitely recommend this so please read!)
#Fanfiction#AO3#Fic Rec#Fic Rec List#Naruto#Harry Potter#Boku no Hero Academia#Stranger Things#Knives Out#Haikyuu!!#Crossover#John Wick#Fairy Tail#Natsume's Book of Friends
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— 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝 + 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 !
𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; karasuno and fukurodani react to their manager doing the body count/bodyody audio tik tok ! [insp by this tik tok]
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; crack(?
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; suggestive themes, maybe a little swearing i can't remember ajaksjq.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; the trend it's to put pictures of all the people you've slept with, in case anyone doesn't know!!
karasuno !
-> it was a joke, it wasn’t supossed to get out of the thrid year managers gc.
-> the girls found it hilarious and was a good conversation topic for hours, discussing who you put or didn’t put.
-> they knew, of course, it was fake. you hadn’t slept with oikawa, KYOUTANI, BOKUTO, tendou, atsumu, TERUSHIMA and OSAMU.
-> it was SO obvious it was a joke for them that nobody felt the need to point it out.
-> they just said things like “the most quiet are the worst ones” “OMG DETAILS ABOUT THE TWINS!!” “did terushima yk,, made a good use of his percing” because they KNEW nothing was real.
-> until tanaka and sugawara asked kiyoko for her phone to watch some videos of the new play they were trying.
-> and misaki, from johzenji, sent a “forget about teru— 🤢 can’t even say it,, Y/N I WANNA HEAR ABOUT BOKUTO!!! ik man’s p a c k i n g”
-> tanaka looks at suga and suga looks at tanaka and they’re like .......tf
-> suga’s finger “slips” and they see the other messages until finally they reach your video.
-> you’re there looking pretty as usual and above your head reads “seems like were showing our body counts with this sound? here it’s mine 🤪”
-> tanaka is about to say “it can be what we’re thinking” but when OIKAWA’S picture appears both their jaws hit the floor.
-> nishinoya sees them and ofc he wants to know what’s so shocking, so he gets closer.
-> he drags hinata too, and shoyo’s like “that’s the great king!! play it again!! play it again!!”
-> fyi: suga paused the video because wOW and they don’t know who’s left in your video.
-> sugawara looks straight in the eye at nishinoya, going “keep hinata, kageyama and yamaguchi away and bring the team” with the MOST SERIOUS EXPRESSION
-> noya is lowkey scared??? like wtf??? but does as he’s told bc suga seems super intense.
-> kiyoko and yachi left to fill the bottles and pick some needed implements from the club room, you had classes for a few more minutes, therefore, there was nobody to stop them.
-> once the rest of the team, including tsukishima because everyone seemed to have forgotten he was a first year too, is together, suga plays again the video, while the littlest ones watch from afar in curiosity.
-> the silence, you will never hear them in a more tense silence.
-> they read what’s your tiktok about, daichi’s eyes go O.O, asahi goes RED, nishinoya seemed to be ready to FIGHT THEM ALL, ennoshita awkwardly laughs, even tsukishima blushes a little.
-> then oikawa appears. EVEYRONE’S EYES ARE FULLY OPEN AND NOYA LET’S OUT A GROAN???
-> but when kyoutani shows up they’re in SO much shock they kinda forget oikawa before, and daichi whispers an “oh god”
-> then it’s BOKUTO’S TURN and tsukishima just stops functioning. asahi is static on his place contemplating, withouth being able to form a coherent thought.
-> suga highkey wants the tea.
-> tendou feels like a betray to asahi, tanaka and tsukishima. noya, just for a second, wonder what was that like.
-> ATSUMU AND OSAMU FUCKING MIYA AND THEY EXPLOTE.
-> THE EXPLOTE LIKE WHAT????? WAS IT AT THE SAME TIME???? Y/N?¡¡¡¿¿1
-> they aren’t ready for the cherry on the top at the end, a picture of terushima sticking his tongue out, sweaty after a match, SMOKING HOT, and it’s not a picture he posted to his social medias or anything.
-> it’s only suga, and daichi a little bit, who realize that if that picture isn’t public, then either he send it to you or YOU TOOK IT.
-> that’s when you walk in the gym, just to say hi before going to change.
-> the first year are playing among each other and you are like ????
-> they don’t even notice you’re there so you go nearer to see what they’re watching. and you see the picture of tersuhima yukie, from fukurodani, once sent asking misaki WHY her kouhais where that hot. it was also the only picture you had of him and the one you used in you video the day before.
-> the phone in suga’s hands seems familiar and... that’s kiyoko’s
-> “Y/N” screams asahi when he sees you and the rest looks like they saw a ghost.
-> a second of silence goes before everyone blows in questions and you just hear names between bambling, “OIKAWA MNASNANPGDF” “MANASKL BODY COUNT ASLKLAS” “MAD DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
-> and daichi makes himself heard despite the screams.
-> “y/n, i know you’re 18 and capable of making your own decisions, but we have to talk about... physical relationships, with our rival teams”
-> kiyoko arrives and quickly puts two and two together and asks yachi to go check on the first years.
-> she looks at you and sees you like WHAT TF DO I DO and nods and say “you shouldn’t have gone through my phone, no matter how curious you are, sugawara-san” COLD AS ICE ISTG.
-> AND SHE CONTINUES “what who y/n does or doesn’t do on her free time is none of your business, all of you, if she decides to get together with anyone it’s just up to her. you should be ashamed of yourself, specially the third years. you weren’t just violating y/n’s privacy, but mine, kaori’s, yukie’s and misaki’s. it may have been a joke, or not, but it doesn’t give you the right. if you ever do something like this again, we will be talking with coach ukai and takeda sensei” SHE GRABS YOUR ARM, TURNS AROUND, CALLS YACHI AND YOU THREE LEAVE LIKE QUEENS????
-> once you’re in the club room, both you and kiyoko start laughing because the team was FROZE in place. not even daichi was so scary.
-> the team then apologizes to both and send an audio to the groupchat too, and never bring the subject uo again.
-> still, they all wonder everyday if you really did or not.
-> and of course, they get so defensive when they see any of the boys in the video it’s hilarious to you and the other managers.
— fukurodani !
-> damn yukie making up dares that always ended up bad for either you or kaori.
-> mostly you doe.
-> at a sleepover, she was like let’s make fake body count vids and who falls asleep first has to show them tomorrow at practice!!! it will be fun!!!
-> you accepted because you usually fell asleep after one of them did but that time it was like they gave you a sleeping pill because you fell like a rock after a few hours.
-> as to why you were there, the day after, about to go ask the team if you should post it.
-> you list consisted on kenma, kita, sakusa, daichi, and just for the fun of it, konoha.
-> the girls call konoha aside so he doesn't ruin the prank, and you proceed.
-> "hey guys, should i post this?? i’m not sure if i look good enough to be seen by the world” bokuto practically yells at you that you always look pretty before taking your phone from your hands.
-> “why don’t you ask yukie or kaori?” asks akaashi, that was a question you hand’t thought about and by pure luck, you were saved by bokuto yelling at the team to come and see what you’ve done.
-> konoha is about to head their way and yukie just grabs his arm like “no ❤️"
-> and nobody can contradict yukie’s no so he has no choice but to stay.
-> anyways
-> the team gather around bokuto, who is about to press play. at first it’s just your face, and everyone agree you look pretty.
-> but then they read “did anyone say body count? ;)” and they look at each other like ......what
-> washio leans to stop the video because he genuinely doesn’t know what body count is, sarukui explains it a little too loud, grinning, and washio goes "oh–"
-> thanks to sarukui’s explanation bokuto confirms his idea because one part of him did think it was how many people you’ve killed.
-> they press play again and kenma appears and bokuto just stares, doesn’t react.
-> akaashi’s eyes widened and he GASPS, washio can’t hide his disappointment mostly because why would you make this video and then show it to them.
-> when kita shows up bokuto lets out a surprised squeak, along with washio that’s just question your and his whole existences-
-> sarukui is smirking, his complete expression yells “way to go y/n!!!”
-> sakusa comes as a shock to every one of them, even sarukui loses the grin for a bit.
-> “how did you manage to...?” whispers akaashi, half amazed, half grossed.
-> bokuto then has to pause it for a little to keep his composure, he looks at your like WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME GO THROUGH THIS
-> but when they resume it and daichi welcomes him he thinks it just can get any worse.
-> washio is like “isn’t that karasuno’s–?”
-> “HELL YEAH IT IS” SHOUTS SARUKUI AND THE GIRLS BEHIND YOU LAUGH SO HARD BECAUSE HE IS SO PROUD OF YOU.
-> the rest is like 🧍♂️ while sarukui is SO happy for you LMAO.
-> it’s at the end when no one smiles. konoha’s picture smiles at them and bokuto just stops the video to look at him, only a few meters away.
-> he looks at the picture and then at konoha and so on.
-> can’t get his mind around it????? lowkey no one can.
-> akaashi isn’t even blinking and his eyes are concerningly open, washio is regretting all his past choices that led to this moment.
-> sarukui death stares at konoha. no more fun sarukui, he crossed the line.
-> kaori and yukie are wheezing WHEEZING I SAY and konoha is so confused.
-> his teammates look like dogs about to attack but he hasn’t done anything to upset them?? has he??
-> like robots, akaashi and bokuto get up and walk towards konoha. a part of you tells you to protect him but... what are they going to do tho...
-> “you’re out of the team” THEY SAY AT THE SAME TIME AND ALL AND KONOHA GOES WHAT
-> your co-managers can’t even breath istg NO HELP
-> you then intervine trying to keep konoha in the team lmao “IT’S FAKE GUYS!! A PRANK!! KAORI!!!! YUKIE!!!! BACK ME UP!!! I’M KIDDING DON’T KICK KONOHA OUT”
-> akaashi partially believes you, but bokuto?? nope.
-> you planted the seed on his mind.
-> the whole team acts weird when they see guys from your vid and are looking for chances to bark at konoha.
-> “AKAASHI HAS TO STAND BETWEEN YOU TWO ALL THE TIME” that’s the new rule he set.
-> just to see them freak out, konoha sometimes flirts with you at practice ;)
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#karasuno hcs#fukurodani headcanons#karasuno headcanons#fukurodani hcs#haikyuu manager#manager reader#haikyuu crack#karasuno crack#fukurodani crack#– star's; originals! [❀]
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in a heartbeat - h.o
pairing: harrison osterfield x reader
summary: dancing in the kitchen, a kiss, and a whole lot of feelings
warnings: angst, fluff
words: 2.5k
a/n: yay, my first harrison one shot!! if you feel like you’ve seen this before, you probably did lol i posted this yesterday but t*mblr decided to glitch, eat the two firsts paragraphs and don’t let me fix it, which was great :)) but it’s here now and it would mean the world to me if you guys read it and let me know your thoughts <333 ily all, enjoy!! xx
This was not how you expected your last month to go. Sharing a house with one of your best friends and another three, almost unknown, boys. It’s true that you also didn’t expect to find your boyfriend, now ex, in bed with another girl, and not just any other girl, it had to be your roommate. You were left with no choice, and no house, that’s how you found yourself at Harrison’s door all those days back. He welcomed you with open arms, before asking if you wanted him to punch your ex in the face, which you denied, even though he totally deserved it.
Yes, living with four boys was chaotic, but you couldn’t deny you liked being the “mom” of the house. You helped them with things that, before you, they had absolutely no idea how to do. Like operating the washing machine and how to properly clean a bathroom. It was fun and at the end of the day, you were grateful you had Harrison to accommodate you while you figured things out.
Yes, living with four boys was chaotic, but you couldn’t deny you liked being the “mom” of the house. You helped them with things that, before you, they had absolutely no idea how to do. Like operating the washing machine and how to properly clean a bathroom. It was fun and at the end of the day, you were grateful you had Harrison to accommodate you while you figured things out.
You had met Harrison through work and immediately hit it off. He was the sweetest and funniest guy ever and in just a couple of weeks, you two were practically glued to the hip. Okay, maybe you had a crush on him at the beginning but after not being very successful with subtlety letting him know, you gave up, and then you met your boyfriend and the feeling simply went away.
But now, sharing a house and spending most of your time with him, you had your doubts about said feelings. Like right now, where you two were currently doing the dishes, after a delicious dinner you and the boys had cooked. Harrison had his favorite playlist playing on the speakers, and while you washed the dishes, he dried them, sneaking some dance moves between each utensil you gave him.
Every Breath You Take by The Police suddenly came in and it was like your friend’s whole personality suddenly changed. He sang and danced to the lyrics while putting the already dry stuff away in the cabinets. His energy level was so high you couldn’t resist, joining him on his little performance.
You sang the lyrics at the top of your lungs, playfully turning your eyes to Harrison every time the song said “I’ll be watching you”, which made him laugh. At one point, he wrapped his arms around your waist, spinning you and your wet and foamy hands around. “You idiot, look at what you’ve done!” You smirked, splashing some of the soapy water at him. “No, you didn’t!” Harrison exclaimed, before also putting his hands on the sink, joining your little game.
Minutes later, both you and the kitchen were dripping wet, covered in foam, still laughing and playing around. Harrison kept splashing water around, while you tried to get away from him, without falling on your butt given the damp floors. Your laughter was loud and it didn’t stop until the song Iris by Go-Go Dolls started to play on the speakers. You immediately tensed, abruptly stopping your movements, which of course, caught Harrison’s attention.
“You okay?” He promptly asked, clearly concerned by your sudden change of behavior. “Yeah, no… it’s just, this was mine and Brad’s song.” You said, feeling stupid for even saying your ex-boyfriend’s name. “Oh, do you want me to change it?” He questioned, to which you shake your head. “No, it’s okay! I won’t let him ruin one of my favorite songs.” You sighed, propping yourself up on the kitchen counter.
In seconds, he was by your side, bravery putting one of his arms around your back, making you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry!” He mumbled, to which you scoffed. “It’s okay, Haz! It’s not your fault he’s a dick.” You said, managing to laugh, which was enough for Harrison to smile. “It just makes me sad seeing you like this.” The blonde breathed, squeezing your side. “Don’t worry, Haz! You’re already doing more than enough for me.” You smiled, facing him.
Only then you realized how close the two of you really were, mere centimeters between each of your faces. You took your time to admire, even more, his eyes. You never understood why people called it ocean eyes but after meeting Harrison, you did because there was not a word to describe the intensity his blue eyes carried.
Subconsciously, or not, he leaned in, meeting your lips in a sweet kiss. It was like the world stopped and everything you could think about was Harrison. He was in every one of your thoughts, invading your mind the way his lips invaded your mouth. Your hands were on his hair, while he kept pushing your body closer and closer to his until you were almost on top of him.
“Hey, Haz! Have you seen my…? Oh, sorry!” The sudden voice made you both jump, completely startled, looking in the direction of it. Harry was standing a few feet away, with an apologetic expression. You quickly got out of the kitchen counter and tried to avoid both of the boy's eyes. “I’ll just… go!” That was the only thing you said before taking off to your room.
“Man, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know…” Harry tried to apologize but Harrison just shrugged him off, assuring him it was fine. It wasn’t though. “What happened?” The ginger-haired boy asked, taking a couple of steps closer. “I don’t know, we were just listening to music and doing the dishes, we started dancing and playing around with the water and… fuck, I don’t know. She said the song was hers and her ex-boyfriend’s and I tried to console her and we both kinda went for it.” Harrison tried his best to explain, while nervously passing his fingers through his blonde locks.
“I mean, this is good, right?” Harry asked, knowing his friend's growing feelings for you, but Haz shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Harry! I don’t think she was ready for it. Fuck, I’m an idiot!” Haz groaned. “Hey, stop that! Just let her, give her some time, and then you can talk and solve this whole thing up.” Harry said, trying his best to calm his friend. “Yeah, you’re right! I’ll talk to her tomorrow!” The blonde sighed, going back to his kitchen chores.
A day turned into two, then three, and suddenly a week had already passed and you and Harrison hadn’t had that conversation. You spend most of your days in your room, getting out to cook, eat and help your roommates with house chores, not once directing words differently than “Good morning!” or “Goodnight!” to them.
To Harrison, you didn’t really seem to mind but he was honestly losing it. His friends could tell he was miserable for the last week, so they finally sat him down and talked, encouraging him to talk to you. Harrison was apprehensive in the beginning but after a little bit of convincing, he decided the boys were right, he had to talk to you. So when he saw you in the backyard, with a book in your hands, he knew it was his perfect chance to do that.
Carefully to not startle you, he opened the sliding glass doors and joined you on the patio. “Hey!” He breathed, getting your attention. “Oh, hi!” You said, immediately closing your book, having an idea of what was about to happen. “I’m sorry, y/n! I was an idiot and shouldn’t have kissed you without asking you first.” He blurted, making you sigh. “Haz, it’s okay! You don’t have to apologize!” You assured him. “I think I have!” The blonde whimpered. “You don’t! I told you, it’s okay! It just took me by surprise!” You said, taking his clammy hands on yours.
“Does that means….” Harrison trailed off, getting his hopes up, only for it to come crashing down at your next words. “I don’t really know what it means, Haz! I’m sorry, it’s still too soon, my feelings are a little confused right now to say at least.” The sound of his heart breaking was so loud, he was almost sure you could hear it too. “Oh, o-okay…” He smiled sadly, making your own break this time. “I’m really sorry, Haz!” You tried apologizing, but he was quick to stop you. “No, it’s fine! You don’t have to apologize, y/n!” He sniffed, and you could see a single tear fighting to come out of the corner of his eye.
You kept holding his hands, feeling completely broken for what you just did, but you were indeed extremely confused. Your feelings were everywhere at the moment and you felt like you really needed some time to think. “Listen, I’m going to stay with Elsa for a little bit.” You started, making Harrison widen his eyes. “What? Why?” He inquired, feeling guilty already. “I just… I need some time, Haz! And don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful you offered me a room and let me stay when I needed to, but I think I have to stay away to understand what’s going on here.” You said, motioning to your head.
And true to your words, you left the very next day. Harrison hugged you goodbye and wished you luck, even smiled while watching you get into the cab, but as soon as he closed the door, he collapsed in front of his friends. “I’m an idiot! I shouldn’t have kissed her! Now she’s gone and it’s my fault!” He cried while Tom rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. “She just needs some time, Haz! You guys would be alright!” The brunette assured him once again, but Harrison wasn’t having any of it. “No, it’s all my fault! I screwed up and ruined our friendship! Now she’s gone!” He cried, getting up from the sofa, slamming his bedroom door.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a month without you living with the boys. Harrison was terrible the first days, he felt empty and like it was his fault you weren’t there anymore. But, as everyone says, time heals everything, now, a whole month after, he was feeling better. He realized, on the time you were gone, that he could live without you, of course, he could, that’s exactly what he’s been doing for the last month. The thing is, he didn’t want to, he wanted you by his side, even if you decided to be just friends, that was fine, he just really missed his best friend and so, he decided to go to Elsa’s place, where you were currently staying and tell you just that.
When he got that, his hands were sweating and he could feel his body shake with nerves, having to take deep breaths to calm himself down. “It’s just y/n, Harrison! It’s just y/n!” He tried to remember but that was exactly the reason why he was like that. It was you, his best friend, the most beautiful person he’s ever met, the only girl who could make him laugh, and the only one who’s seen him ugly cry. It was you and your dreamy eyes and hypnotizing laugh. The girl that could make his heart do somersaults on his chest and the one he wanted by his side for the rest of his life.
Before he could even ring the bell, the door swung open, revealing you on the other side, carrying a trash bag. “Haz?” You inquired, surprised. “Hi!” He answered, feeling his throat suddenly dry. “What are you doing here?” You asked, confused with his presence. “I was— I was hoping we could talk?” The blonde murmured, swallowing his nerves. “Oh, yeah! Come in!” You smiled, getting out of the way. “You were living? I can come back if you’re busy.” Harrison asked but you just shrugged him off. “No, I was just gonna take the trash out but that can wait!” You chuckled, disposing of the plastic bag, before offering him a seat.
“So, how are you?” You smiled, making Harrison even more nervous. “I’m good! Thanks! The boys miss you though, I miss you!” Haz admits, making you blush. “I miss you guys too, trust me, living with Elsa is not half as fun as living with all of you.” You laughed and just then Harrison realized how much he missed hearing this sound.
“I know you asked for time and if you need more, I understand, I just— I had to talk to you.” The blonde started, ready to let his feelings out. “It’s funny, you said you needed time to think and when you were away, it gave me time to think too. I didn’t know I needed it but turns out, I did.” He laughed. “I— I like you, y/n! Like… a lot! And I don’t know but the last few days made me think about how much I want you in my life. It doesn’t matter if it’s as a friend or something more, I just want my best friend back.” Harrison breathed, looking into your eyes for answers.
After clearing your throat, you answered, “I want you in my life too, Haz! You’re my best friend and I missed you like crazy.” Harrison smiled. “And I mean, Elsa’s girlfriend is moving in next week so, I kinda need a place to stay.” You told him, watching his eyes widen. “This means you are coming back?” He questioned, to which you nodded. “If you and the rest of boys are okay with that.”
You squealed, feeling Harrison’s arms around you. “Yes! Of Course, we’re okay with that!” He beamed, before realizing what he did. “I’m sorry!” He quickly apologized, trying to move away, but you stopped him. “There’s one more thing though.” You said, sealing your lips to his. You were dying to do it since the last time he kissed you and now, with him in your arms, you could finally feel his lips again.
“Turns out, I really like you too! And this time away only made me realize that. I want you in my life, Haz! But as you said before, a little bit more than friends this time.” You smiled, feeling insecure until Harrison’s stunned face made you smile. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to rush things just...” You cut him off with another kiss and this time, he smiled into it, pulling your body closer to his. “I mean it, Haz! I wanna be with you!” You reaffirmed, smiling into another kiss.
Just as Harrison pulled you into his lap and went for another kiss, you both heard the song Iris by Go-Go Dolls playing. You gasped, looking at Harrison. “Did you plan this?” You asked, completely shocked, but Harrison shook his head. “I have no idea where this is coming from.” He laughed, squeezing your sides.”Well, it seems like it’s destiny then!” You smirked, kissing him again.
You knew one of Elsa’s neighbors was loud and always listening to music but at that moment, you decided to believe in your theory, after all, the song that broke you apart now had also brought you two back together.
✧･ﾟ tagging some of my mutuals ✧･ﾟ@soft-haz @bi-writes @duskholland @sinisterspidey @uglypastels @screamholland @sunsetholland @hollandharrison @wazzupmrstark @missnxthingg @farfromparker @londonspidey @mrs-hollandstan @osterfield-holland-andcompany @peeterparkr @rosyparkers @veryholland @hollandbroz-n-haz @hotforharrison @storybookholland
#harrison osterfield#harrison osterfield fic#harrison osterfield fanfic#harrison osterfield imagine#harrison osterfield blurb#harrison osterfield one shot#harrison osterfield angst#harrison osterfield fluff#harrison osterfield x reader#harrison osterfield x y/n#harrison osterfield x you#roommate!au#my writing#harrison osterfield writing
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