#the fanfics do be slapping in the call of duty fandom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nonalectos · 3 years

Text

Jury Duty

Fandom: The Nanny

Genre: Romance/Humor/Comfort

Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock

Rating: M

Summary: C.C. has been called to jury duty, and Fran decides to come along, placing C.C. in a very uncomfortable position considering the feelings she has been harboring for the nanny the last four years. To make matters worse, there's only one room left in the hotel.

Word Count: 2,826

Author’s Note: My first fic in six years, folks! I am currently neck deep in The Nanny hyper fixation, Fran x C.C. in particular, and I was inspired by my lovely friends and fellow shippers to write my first fic in years and very first fic for this pairing! Boy, have I come a long way since my Fran/Maxwell fanfic on Quizilla.com when I was 14-years-old. Interwoven with canon from S04E17: Samson, He Denied Her. Please enjoy!

This fic can also be found here on AO3.

“What’s that?”

“That’s...the nanny.”

_______

C.C. rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into her pillow, and groaned, the coolness of her satin pillowcase warming to match her body temperature a bit too quickly for her liking. As she shifted, contemplating whether to get up or relegate herself to a day in bed, ignoring all responsibility and...other stressors, an orange-brown fluff next to her feet growled.

Damn dog.

In order to prevent the mongrel from biting at her ankles, C.C. slowly pulled her legs up towards her chest before gently removing the covers, pushing herself up into a seated position, and scooting to let her legs hang off the side of the bed. She sighed and looked at her alarm clock.

5:30 AM

She had one of those dreams again. She was rarely the type to dream, but somehow her subconscious had been invaded by the intrusive thoughts she routinely pushed away during her waking hours. Sparkling red, a hand on her waist, her own hand tangled in a large nest of brown hair, and the recalled scent of scratch-and-sniff magazine perfume flashed through her mind before she could prevent it. She groaned again--loudly--and a retort, almost indistinguishable from her own guttural sound, emitted from the ball of fluff.

C.C. let out one more sigh before standing with renewed intention to have a good, productive day. She would bury her nose--and her mind--in her work. No one could get in the way of her and her job. She was the C.C. Babcock. She made her way to the kitchen and started her coffee maker. While she waited, she opened an envelope that she had left sitting on the table and froze, defeated.

_______

C.C. barged into Maxwell Sheffield’s office, ignoring the skip in her chest when she caught the image of brown, black, red, and white in her peripheral, accompanied by that--against all odds--alluring scent.

“Maxwell, you are not gonna believe this. I have been summoned for jury duty! Well, that is the last time I vote.”

The blur came closer. “Ms. Babcock, maybe I’ll go be on that jury with you.”

C.C. covered her panic with a chuckle. “Nanny Fine, you can’t just go.” This was it. The perfect moment for a witty jab. That would help. “It’s not like Supercuts.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got a drawer full of those things. Besides, there’s nothing keeping me here.” Fran glared at Maxwell, and C.C. silently stepped out of the office as she heard the man’s voice raise, only making out an exasperated, “Ms. Fine!”

_______

“Oh I’ve just gotta get on this jury!”

As Fran blabbed on, C.C. tried not to focus on how close together they were sitting and how she could still feel the heat from the nanny’s hand on her knee, even after she had removed it. As Fran handed her a book, C.C. was given another chance at a jab. She gasped theatrically.

“You know him?”

“No. You read?”

Fran snatched the book out of C.C.’s hand, and C.C. laughed, the awareness of her leaning closer to Fran escaping her.

_______

“What do you mean there’s just one room left?” C.C. growled at the hotel receptionist.

The receptionist looked at the tall, blond woman towering above them nervously. “I-uh I’m sorry, ma’am, there are no other rooms available. Just the one.”

“But we have two people--” Fran gently placed her hand on C.C.’s shoulder and stepped in between her and the distressed receptionist.

“Are there two beds?” she asked, smiling.

“Y-yes,” the receptionist said hesitantly and then, more assured after calming down, “Yes, there are two beds.”

“See Babs? No harm, no foul,” Fran said brightly, squeezing C.C.’s shoulder as she reached over the counter to take the room key. As they walked towards their room, Fran went on and on about the plot of the romance novel she had shoved in C.C.’s hands earlier. C.C. focused on her breathing, trying to remain calm. She could feel the heat creep up her neck the moment the kid at the desk said they only had one room available, and now she didn’t even have to look to know she had red blotches all over her chest and cheeks. She couldn’t distinguish between her anger and...fear? No. C.C. Babcock was never scared.

“So then when he pulls her in--” holding the book close to her chest, Fran twirled around to face C.C. as she continued walking down the hallway backwards. “Ms. Babcock? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” C.C. responded curtly.

“You’re not having an allergic reaction, are you?” Fran rushed up to her and lifted her hand to examine C.C.’s face as she spoke. “You gotta be careful with shellfish! You know, my cousin, Ernie, never had an allergic reaction in his life. One day, 40 years old, he ate one fried shrimp and BAM --”

C.C. slapped Fran’s hand away, “I’m fine.” Her heart was racing.

“Okay, okay, sorry Mrs. Hyde.” Fran threw her hands in the air, and C.C. could have sworn she gave a tiny pout as she turned around and continued towards their room. When she opened the door, she paused, pulled it back to her, and turned. “You know, Ms. Babcock, we should celebrate! How about a drink? A whiskey. Bourbon. On me.” She winked then stood up straight with a stern look on her face, “ Well. Not top shelf.”

“Nanny Fine,” C.C. uttered through gritted teeth, “I just want to--” she pushed past Fran and opened the door “--lie down.” She stopped in the doorway, still as if she had come face-to-face with Medusa herself.

One bed stood in the room.

_______

The first night was somewhat tolerable. Fran was very kind to C.C., ensuring she was comfortable and that she did not take up too much of her space. C.C. reciprocated by keeping her distance as well. Falling asleep was another story. C.C. was the first to lie down. Being on the side of the bed facing the bathroom, she saw the nanny walk out, wearing one of her bathrobes. God, I hope she has something under that. She could hear the shuffling of the fabric as Fran let the robe fall to the floor and felt the weight in the bed shift as the other woman settled in. Before she could make sense of what was happening, she felt two swift pats on her hip. “Goodnight, Ms. Babcock!”

“Hm,” was the only confirmation she could utter.

C.C. was hyper aware of Fran’s presence. She measured the woman’s breathing and could tell by the slower, deeper breaths when she fell asleep. It took her a while to close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw Fran’s hand on her knee…

Her shoulder…

Her hip…

C.C. jolted awake from a half-sleep. She sighed and stared at the wall in the dark. The blackout curtains weren’t closed all the way, and she could see a sliver of light flash on the wall every once in a while. She could hear sirens, car horns, distant yelling, and sometimes a drunken laugh. She didn’t know what time it was, but it felt like she had been drifting in and out of almost-sleep for hours, still aware of the body radiating heat and energy next to her. What is it about Fran Fine? was the last thought that crossed her mind before she drifted into a very, very light sleep.

_______

C.C.’s eyes traveled down Fran’s figure as she stood up when Vincenzo approached the stand, her expression a mixture of endearment and bewilderment. Why her?, a question echoing the sentiment from the night before repeating in her mind. The rest of the day in the courtroom was filled with typical annoyances, with the exception of a moment of outburst from Fran that left C.C. with the sting of an emotion she couldn’t quite place in the moment as she softly pulled Fran’s arm down.

_______

The next day, C.C. pinpointed the emotion as Fran spoke. “See, that is what happens when a man tells you that he loves you and then he takes it back.”

Jealousy.

C.C.’s face was still until she realized her arms were full of snacks that Fran had been piling onto her.

“What are you looking for?”

“My Dexatrim,” Fran responded.

C.C. rolled her eyes and stuffed the food back into Fran’s bag, the thought popping into her mind again. Why her?

_______

She was exhausted. Eight days, hardly any sleep, and “a horse is a horse, of course, of course” stuck in her head practically 24/7, C.C. wanted to explode when she read the words on the slip of paper, “And one ‘not guilty’…,” followed by Fran convincing another juror to vote “not guilty.” Every time she thought she was going to escape her personal hell, she was dragged back down. She was Sisyphus, and Nanny Fine was her boulder.

C.C. stood. “Could it be that you’re just a little sensitive to this shrew maid because you have some fantasy of ending up with your employer yourself?”

Sting.

“Let she who is without fantasy cast the first stone!”

Ohh, if only you knew, Nanny Fine!

The rest of the afternoon was full of more sting as Fran not-so-subtly talked about Maxwell and the children, but at least they were finally done. C.C. could go home and try to put this all behind her.

As they walked out of the courtroom, Fran hooked her arm through C.C.’s and cheerfully said, “I have a proposal.”

“And what would that be, Ms. Fine?”

“I propose we take one more night off. You know, eat, drink, relax, before heading back to work.”

“Nanny Fine, I really--”

“Pleeease Ms. Babcock?” Fran pleaded, stopping and tugging on her arm. C.C. looked into Fran’s eyes: earnest, gentle, kind.

That’s why her. “Well, alright.”

“You know, I really feel like this has been a good bonding experience for us.”

C.C. rolled her eyes...and couldn’t help but smile.

_______

She wasn’t drunk, but she did feel a little tipsy. A little more relaxed. She and Fran were making their way back to their room after a pleasant evening of food and a couple drinks each. The nanny really was good company, when C.C. let herself enjoy it. C.C. settled into what she had established as her side of the bed for the previous eight nights, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her blond hair pooled on the feather pillow under her head. She could hear the sink faucet turn on. A couple of splashes. Off. The towel being pulled off the rack. C.C. tore her eyes from the ceiling to the bathroom door. Fran walked out and, as she walked around to her side of the bed, began to untie her robe. C.C. didn’t take her eyes off of her. Fran wasn’t wearing anything particularly risqué--why would she be--but the loose fitting, thin material that made up her pajamas hung on her perfectly. C.C. could feel her neck and cheeks getting warm again--a nightly routine for her body at this point--and she turned over to hide. Her head was reeling with the influx of emotions she had felt over the last week, a mental Rolodex: anxious, longing, annoyed, jealous, hopeful...hurt.

“Nanny Fine?” She wasn’t sure if Fran had fallen asleep.

“Yeah, Babs?”

Her heart skipped.

“Why…” she turned over to face the nanny. “Why do you put up with it?”

Fran had been facing the other way. She turned over. The bedside table lamp hadn’t been turned off yet. C.C. was able to look into the other woman’s eyes again.

“Put up with what?”

“Maxwell. He...well, obviously he isn’t willing to give you what you want. Why hold out hope?”

“Why do you?” Fran retorted with a hint of defensiveness.

C.C. was silent for a moment. “I think I’ve confused myself.” Oh god, how much did I have to drink? “I don’t think what I really desire is what...I thought I desired.” I don’t feel drunk.

Fran maintained eye contact. Silent. Almost as if she knew. C.C. cast her gaze down. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Why do you act so hard?” the woman said. The words were accusatory but the tone was soft and empathetic. Despite her attempts to keep them at bay, C.C. could feel the sting of tears and a lump in her throat. “Oh, Ms. Babcock,” Fran whispered, slowly rubbing the blond’s shoulder with her thumb. “You really are a wonderful, caring woman. You just won’t let others see it. Like you’re protecting yourself from something.” Earnest, gentle...kind.

That’s why her.

“You hurt others before they can hurt you.”

C.C. looked back into Fran’s eyes. Up to this point, she thought her jabs had all been in jest. “Have I hurt you?”

Fran laughed. “Oh, honey. It takes more than what you can throw to hurt me.” C.C. sniffled. “But listen. I was holding out hope for Mr. Sheffield because the other person I noticed--the strong, loyal, brilliant woman who crossed my path every day--didn’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated.” Before C.C. could interject, Fran continued. “Now, that’s not to say he’s a saint. Faaaar from it, missy. But you, Babs. I see a lot of potential in you, but you gotta soften up that thing you got in that chest of yours.”

“I...don’t--half the time, I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” the words started escaping from her lips, betraying every cell in her body, every natural inclination she had. At least what she thought up to this point was natural for her. “When I first saw you, four years ago, in that sparkling red dress...the way you moved, the way you talked, your confidence, god I felt so...so intensely jealous. But...four years later, and I can’t get that image of you out of my head. Just you. Not Maxwell.”

Fran lifted her hand to wipe a tear from C.C.’s face then back to her shoulder. She felt the woman’s hand travel from her shoulder down her arm…

Her waist…

Her hip…

Then she tugged.

C.C. placed her hand on the brunette’s waist as she was pulled in, the many inches between them closed. She gasped, and her breathing became uneven. She could feel the flush in her cheeks as she glanced down at Fran’s lips, which she now noticed were coming closer...and closer. She had kissed people before. Plenty of times. But Fran’s lips felt like home. They were soft and warm, moving in tandem with her own. The perfect fit. C.C. moved her hand up Fran’s side, taking note of every inch of her curvature, until she was able to tangle her hand in that nest of beautiful, brown hair. Every breath she took in between kisses was filled with that wonderfully intoxicating scratch-and-sniff perfume scent, and in the moments a soft, nasally moan escaped from the nanny’s lips, C.C.’s hips pushed forward and she moaned in return. Fran coaxed C.C. onto her back with a gentle but firm push and straddled her, not letting their lips part for more than a second. C.C. put both hands on each of Fran’s hips as Fran began to leave a trail of kisses down C.C.’s neck…

Her collarbone…

Her chest…

This is better than being drunk...

_______

C.C. finally got the rest she needed. She woke up from a deep sleep and could feel the tangling of sheets around her body. As she began to shift, she felt a heavy weight on her legs and her waist. A quiet, gravely moan emitted next to her ear. As C.C. rolled over, Fran shifted but didn’t move her leg or her arm. Instead, she tightened her grip and pulled the woman closer. C.C. caressed Fran’s face as her eyes fluttered open.

“Mornin’, Babs baby.”

“Morning, Fran,” C.C. said with a smile and placed a sweet kiss on the nanny’s lips.

_______

Hand-in-hand, C.C. and Fran walked up to the desk in the hotel lobby to check out. The receptionist from their first night was working that morning. Fran smiled and slid the key across the counter, while C.C. took out her credit card to pay for all the unexpected nights.

“Good morning, ladies! Hope you enjoyed your stay. Did the pull out couch work out alright?” the receptionist asked.

Fran and C.C. exchanged glances and both blurted, “The what?”

#the nanny #fran x cc #fran fine #cc babcock #alcohol mention #fanfic1 #i'm actually really proud of this one!#it felt good to write again for the first time in a long time too #god i love these two so much #this is my longest one shot too i think

24 notes · View notes

fandom-collective-writers · 4 years

Text

In Defense of You (Zero x Reader)

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Pairing: Zero x Reader

Prompt: “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

Warning: None!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2,227

Requested by: Anonymous

Written by: @lordsister

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Revolution or any of its characters. All that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost or reblog this on any other website.

Additional Notes: Zero is good boy and he must be protected and loved at all costs. I loved his route and I adore him so much.

For a moment he actually thought it would stop, the rumors, the whispering that followed wherever he went. After the events that ended the 500 year feud between the Red and Black armies, he’d even forgotten about it, happy as he was to have you at his side. But no. Weeks later it was like his actions had meant nothing, particularly to Red territory’s high society.

“Alice the Second?!” Your hands were ripped away from his arm by an overexcited Clemence cousin with an excessive amount of blush on her cheeks. “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you! I must say the rumors don’t do you justice. However I’m quite surprised.” Her eyes glimmered with blatant disgust as she shot a glance at Zero. “You’re with...the Ace?” She said the word “Ace” like she’d just stepped in dog poop or bitten into a rotten apple.

Zero saw your shoulders go rigid, the tips of your ears turning red. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” you said through teeth clenched in a tight smile. “The Ace of Hearts is the most honorable, admirable officer in the Red Army. Why wouldn’t I be with him?”

The woman chuckled uncomfortably and released your hands. “Sure, but-”

“(Y/n), I think there’s cake over there. Do you want to go get some?”

Smiling brilliantly at him, your hands returned to his arm, accepting his offered elbow. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

Zero could tell you were still bothered by what the noblewoman had said, your grip on his arm a little tighter than necessary, but he didn’t remark on it. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised some people would still hold prejudices against him. Maybe he should have accepted guard duty instead of joining you as your partner at this party. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you when you should have been having fun, but it was too late to take it back now.

“Oh, you’re Alice aren’t you?”

He groaned internally as the next opponent appeared and your smile stiffened. This time it was a young man in a high-necked suit, his dark hair slicked back.

“Yes, I am,” you responded politely, allowing the man to grasp your hand in greeting while the other maintained a tight grip on your plate of cake.

“I’ve heard about your part in the recent conflict between the Red and Black armies and the Magic Tower. You were quite courageous.”

“Thank you,” you returned, “but I really couldn’t have done any of it without help.”

“No need to be humble,” he waved you off, and Zero saw your brow twitch. “Anyway, you. Ace of Hearts.” The young nobleman’s voice had lost it’s cordial edge, turning arrogant and flippant as his lips curled in a sneer. “You must be grateful for the opportunity so graciously bestowed upon you by King Lancelot. All of us were rather astounded to hear that Mousse was stepping down and being replaced with someone outside the Atlas family. It’s extraordinary, especially for someone of your...background.”

He was used to this. He’d heard the same words a million different times, said a million different ways. It would always hurt somewhere deep down inside, but he was used to it. You weren’t however. You never would be.

“Zero’s just that amazing. You don’t know him so you wouldn’t understand. In my opinion, your ignorance and short-sightedness is especially amazing.” He snorted at that, lips twitching as he tried not to smile. The look on the young man’s face was ridiculous, his jaw hanging open and his face turning redder as he spluttered in embarrassment and rage.

Turning back to Zero, you smiled cheerfully and asked, “Want to get some of that chocolate over there?”

“Yes.” Grabbing your hand, he gave it a soft squeeze, silently thanking you.

“You know you didn’t have to do that for me,” he murmured, smiling as you tugged him away.

“Yes I did,” you replied and squeezed his hand back. “I love you. No one gets to talk about you like that while I’m around.”

The third and final opponent approached when you and he were talking to Edgar. The same young man from before was back with a friend, lurking at the edge of Zero’s vision as he tried to forget the rudeness from before and enjoy the rest of the night with the two most important people in his life, his lover and his mentor.

“Excuse me,” the young man’s friend interjected with a tap on your shoulder. Zero saw a muscle twitch in your jaw as you turned, gearing up for a fight, but the other man only offered his hand. “May I have this dance, Miss Alice?”

Three sets of eyes blinked in surprise and you looked between the young man and your lover.

“I, um…” you trailed off and he could tell you didn’t want to, but didn’t want to be impolite either when the guy had done nothing wrong...so far.

Looking up, Zero realized that the other young man from before was gone. Odd. Maybe you had scared him away.

“Zero?”

Turning back to you, his blue gaze met your silently pleading one. He smiled. “Go ahead.”

“But-” Before you could finish, you were swept away into the dancing, the pale yellow and orange of your dress blending in with the swirl of colors.

“Letting your lady get whisked away by another man?” Edgar gasped comically, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Zero rolled his eyes and said, “Don’t be ridiculous.” He’d never been the jealous type and he knew you loved him...but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him to see another man’s hands on you, even if the two of you were only dancing.

“I think you’re lying, Zero.”

“I think you’re full of it, Edgar.”

The other man laughed and tipped back his champagne glass. “Honestly though, I’m surprised you decided to join us instead of taking guard duty again. It can’t be easy for you.”

“I’m used to it. Besides.” His eyes found you in the crowd, the dress he’d had made for you flared around you mid-spin. Your gaze caught his and a beautiful smile just for him graced your face. An ‘I love you’ in a smile. “I don’t care as long as she’s enjoying herself.”

Edgar reached out and hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Good for you. I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

Zero smiled softly. “Thanks.”

The happy peace of the moment was spoiled by a sudden commotion from the dancefloor and Zero pushed himself off the wall, immediately looking for you.

“How many times can Alice be pissed off tonight before she snaps?” Edgar chuckled, green eyes sparkling with mirth. “Three apparently.”

Leaving his mentor, Zero waded through the crowd. He found you at the center of the dance floor, your arm crossed over your body and your hand splayed post-slap. The young man you had been dancing with stood shocked, his head snapped to the side and his cheek bright red. It was obvious what had happened. And Zero could guess why.

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” he heard you actually growl. He’d never heard you growl before. Your face was red with anger, your jaw clenched.

“(Y/n)?” he called your name softly, brow furrowed in concern.

The anger immediately drained from your expression when you saw him, your eyes widening in realization at what you had just done. “Zero,” you whispered, turning to him. He half expected you to burst into tears. His Alice hated hurting anyone no matter what they did or said. To his surprise, your mouth twisted as if you were biting your lip instead, trying to hold in laughter. You gave him a smile that was helplessly affectionate.

Taking his hand, you grabbed your skirts with the other and ran, pulling him out the door and down the hall with you. Despite the unapproving looks you got from other party-goers, your laughter and smile were contagious and he found himself joining in as the two of you made your escape. It felt freeing to run, to get away from the stuffiness and sideways glances and disapproving sneers hidden behind fans and champagne flutes. This was the most fun he’d had all evening.

Back in the ballroom the Jack of Hearts approached his king, amused smiles on both men’s faces. “What say you, King Lancelot?” Edgar asked.

“I say thank goodness. This party was boring until Alice spiced it up. It’s rather amusing to see all these vultures with their feathers ruffled, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe I did that!” you gasped, the two of you slowing to a halt in the garden.

Rubbing his hand in circles across your back, Zero remarked, “They’re probably going to be talking about that for years.”

You blinked at him owlishly. “You think so?”

He was still smiling as he said, “Probably.”

“Oh well!” You laughed as you spun in a circle, taking his hands. “I don’t regret it. I’m glad I did it, actually.”

“Why did you do it?” he asked curiously. He knew it had something to do with him. You wouldn’t have reacted so strongly otherwise.

Your expression turned serious and you leaned forward into his arms, seeking his warmth and comfort. “He insulted you, right to my face, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I can only take so many people mocking the love of my life, especially when they don’t know a thing about you.” You looked up, resting your chin on his chest. “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

His fingers ran through your hair, playing with the styled curls. “I understand. I would’ve done the same thing in your position.”

Your head tilted to the side just slightly. “But?”

Zero sighed, his smile wry. “I don’t like it when you’re so upset you want to punch someone.”

“I slapped him,” you corrected, raising a brow.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t like it when you’re upset.”

Pouting, you stepped back and let him lead you over to a fountain. Sitting you down on the stone rim, he sat next to you and brought your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Thank you for doing that for me. I love that you care about me enough to get so angry for me, but I wish you hadn’t let it get to you. I’m used to the things people say about me and I don’t care.”

“I care though! Imagine if it had been me they’d been talking so badly about! What would you have done if you had been in my position?”

His grip tightened on your hands as the scenario crossed his mind. “I would have drawn my sword on them.” You gave him an ‘I told you so’ look and he chuckled, his shoulders slumping in surrender. “Okay, okay, I understand.”

“Good,” you said, kissing his nose softly and pressing your forehead to his.

Both you and he jumped and gasped as a second later the fountain lit up, tiny magic crystals embedded in the stone flaring to life to illuminate the rest of the garden. The soft blue glow bathed the area in seconds, mixing with the moonlight. Crickets chirped in the grass and the occasional pinpoint brightness of a firefly broke the otherwise silvery-blue scene as the faint sound of the orchestra echoed from the open windows beyond the garden.

Your eyes widened in delight, a beautiful smile breaking out across your face, and Zero couldn’t tear his gaze away from you. It was the happiest you had looked all evening and a weight lifted from his heart as he watched you. Still, after all of the drama that had occurred there was one more question he meant to ask you.

“(Y/n),” he called softly, bringing you attention back to him.

He nearly forgot how to breathe as you turned your smile on him and answered, “Yes?”

“Do you ever feel embarrassed about being seen with me?” he asked quietly, dropping his gaze to your hands. He wanted you to say no, hoped that you would say no, but he wanted you to be honest too.

“Zero.” Your gloved hands cupped his cheeks and tilted his face up to meet your serious, yet gentle expression as your thumb brushed over his cheekbone. “I have never once been embarrassed about being seen with you. I love you. So, so much. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I just care about you.”

Blue eyes closed and he leaned into you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. Your arms looped around his neck as you leaned up to kiss him, loving and lingering. “Thank you. I know I said I don’t care about what people say about me, but that’s only true so long as you’re here with me, giving me this warmth.”

You giggled, squirming out of his arms and pulling him to his feet. “Then you don’t have to care for forever if you don’t want to. Now, will you dance with me?”

Zero took your hand and wrapped his other arm around your waist, smiling into your hair. “I’d like that very much.”

#ikemen #ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikemen series #cybird #cybird ikemen series #ikemen revolution zero #ikerev zero #ikemen zero #romance #fluff #slight angst #zero x reader #in defense of you (zero x reader)#otome x reader #ikemen x reader #ikemen revolution x reader #otome

118 notes · View notes

cateyes315 · 4 years

Text

This is my first ever fanfic, I wrote it for @the--sad--hatter Weird and Wonderful writing challenge. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it 😊

Strange and Unusual (Loki x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel, MCU

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: None :)

Summary: Loki meets the newest member of the Avengers. Thor describes her as "strange even for a mortal" which of course piques Loki's interest.

It started out as what seemed like an ordinary day, Loki groaned at the thought of putting up with the blundering idiots that called themselves "the Avengers". A meeting had been called to introduce a new member of the team and ALL in the tower were strongly encouraged to attend. Loki was slightly curious as he had only heard that this new member was not like most mortals, making her a mystery to him. Before they filed in he had already found a wall to lean against, which gave him the advantage of seeing without feeling like he was being smothered: after all he did like his personal space.

Y/N was nervous as this would be the first time she officially met the Avengers and she was meeting them all at once. Fury said it would make for an easier transition for everyone, but that didn't help her anxiety. When she walked in the room it appeared to be empty so she took a moment to calm herself by singing her favorite song softly under her breath, and took deep calming breaths.

Loki watched quietly as the stunning woman walked in. He soon heard her beautiful voice softly drifting his way, singing a soft unfamiliar song, but it seemed to ease some of the visible tension in her shoulders. He watched her intently trying to figure out who she was but not wanting to startle her, or to stop her beautiful singing. He was drawn in by her beauty and voice and couldn't stop watching her.

Just as Loki was about to make himself known and ask her who she was, someone just outside the door got her attention and asked her to follow them to Fury. Y/N walked back out of the room without even knowing Loki was standing there.

As she walked away Loki couldn't help but stare at where she had been standing. He was brought back to his senses when he heard the others walking down the hall to the meeting room: the room he was currently in. He braced himself for the onslaught of loud voices and annoying people.

Fury walked to the front of the room once everyone had walked in the room and settled in their chairs, except Loki who always insisted on standing away from everyone else. When he first refused to sit Fury would try to persuade him to join them, but eventually realized he was just wasting his breath so he let Loki be. Fury cleared his throat to get everyone's attention focused on him.

"We have a new member joining the team and you will treat her with respect." Fury said, glaring at everyone, but especially Loki.

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes at Fury’s remark and instead, directed a glare at him. Obviously he would treat this new member with all the respect she deserved. Besides not only had he not met this girl but, he didn’t know how she felt about him after New York. Even though he tried to tell the Avengers that he was being controlled, they didn’t believe him, so he showed them the same indifference they showed him. He didn’t hate any of them, not really, Loki just treated him the way they did him.

As Fury finished talking he motioned for Y/N to come forward and join him at the front of the room.

“This is Y/N. I’m sure Stark will have a nickname picked out for her soon.” Fury glared at Tony, “Don’t annoy her or I won’t be held responsible for her reaction.”

Loki had started to let his mind wander until Y/N walked past him towards the front of the room. He caught his breath as he realized it was the same beautiful woman with the beautiful voice that had been in the room earlier. Loki sincerely hoped she was as sweet as her face and voice suggested, and not like the rest of them, judging without knowing or believing the full story. He found himself wondering just what her powers or skills were that led her to join the Avengers and that made his oaf of a big brother comment about her not being like “most normal mortals”.

Y/N shyly glanced around the table at the Avengers and said hello to everyone. She thanked them for letting her join the team, promising to be a good asset and addition to the team, while also silently promising herself to try and not let her anxiety get the best of her especially on a mission. Proper introductions were made and she felt herself being somewhat drawn to Loki, although she couldn’t explain why especially since they didn’t know each other. Y/N also felt like someone was watching her and when she subtly glanced around she realized it was Loki, so she smiled at him on her way towards him.

Loki saw her coming his way and couldn’t decide if he should stay and talk to her, or leave the room and let everyone else get to know her first. Before he could make up his mind either way Thor made it up for him by asking him to come away and discuss some boring thing. Well Loki assumed it boring anyway, since it dragged him away from properly meeting Y/N. When they had gotten away from the others Thor felt it his duty to remind Loki to ‘Play nice and try to befriend the strange mortal’.

Loki started to ask why he called Y/N strange but was interrupted by Bruce, or ‘Jolly Green’ as Stark referred to him, pulling Thor away to discuss something. Loki wasn’t sure what it was, nor did he really care. With his brother walking away Loki headed to the Library to read.

Y/N had wandered the halls in an effort to get away from the large crowd of people in the meeting room and found herself quietly singing in the Library, looking for a good book to read. She heard someone walking towards the Library and switched from singing to humming so low only she could hear it. She was always self conscious about her looks and her voice so she tried not to let others hear her when she sang. She was suddenly aware of a new yet calming presence behind her, and felt a pair of eyes watching her.

Loki slowed down when he heard Y/N singing softly and sweetly in the Library. When she abruptly stopped he assumed she had sensed his presence and just didn’t want him to hear her. He walked into the Library and began to browse the shelves while trying to decipher where the soft humming noise was coming from. As he rounded a corner he saw Y/N and realized she hadn’t stopped the song, just started humming it very softly. Loki leaned against the shelf watching and listening to her for a moment before she stopped and turned toward him.

Y/N stopped humming and turned to the presence that apparently belonged to the one and only Loki. Though why she found his presence calming she wasn’t sure. One thing she knew for sure was she hadn’t had the chance to properly introduce herself. She extended her hand

“Loki, right? I’m Y/N, I don’t believe we’ve properly met yet.”

Loki was slightly shocked at the extended hand but shook it anyway.

“Y/N nice to properly meet you. I must say you have a beautiful voice. Why did you stop singing?”

Y/N shrugged “It’s not that good and most people seem annoyed when I sing, so I tend to keep to myself.”

Loki was shocked to say the least. “Petty mortals who don’t have any talent of their own will always belittle someone with extraordinary talent and beauty because they are jealous.”

Y/N blushed, “I’m not that beautiful Loki and you’ve just met me how do you know I’m not merely a “petty mortal” as well?”

Loki smiled, “I tend to be able to read people darling, It’s a gift and a curse. You are special, I can tell I’m just not sure why besides your obvious humility. Also my big brother may be an oaf but if he says someone is “strange” according to mortal standards and even to himself. Call me crazy but I tend to pay attention, not to mention be quite curious.”

Y/N looked slightly confused, “Thor said I was strange? This coming from the God of Thunder. What idea’s you must have had about me and how I would look and behave.”

Loki chuckled lightly, “No more than the ideas you’ve had about me after New York I’m sure.”

Y/N looked at him, “The others told me you tried to tell them it was mind control but they don’t believe you. However I like to form my own opinions of others AFTER I’ve met them. Which is exactly what I told them.”

Loki tried to control the shocked look on his face. “No wonder my brother called you strange. No offense of course, it’s just most mortals hear the words Loki and New York and run for cover.”

Y/N smiled for the first time, “Or slap like you like Jane did.”

Loki rubbed his cheek with that memory, “Yes, let me tell you that little lady can slap very hard.”

Y/N laughed, “So I’ve heard. Anyway you’ve been here for a while, any good books to read or should I look elsewhere?”

Loki smiled, “Depends on what kind of book you’re looking for. If you don’t mind me asking what exactly are your powers or skills you bring to the team?”

Y/N looked down at the floor, “It’s nothing special really. I have a little ice magic and I’m also an empath.”

Loki looks genuinely shocked, “Nothing special?? Y/N do you realize how few beings mortal or otherwise possess ice magic? While also being an empath?”

Y/N looked up at Loki, “I’m guessing not many?”

Loki looked at her in wonder, “Not many indeed dear mortal. I have magic and am Jotun yet I cannot control ice.”

Y/N shrugged, “I’ve always been told I’m strange and unusual.”

Loki looked around to make sure they were alone. His illusion shimmered away as he spoke, “I, myself, am rather strange and unusual.”

When his illusion faded he was standing in his true Jotun form. Beautiful blue skin with intricate lines along his skin and captivating red eyes. Loki’s gaze went downward to the floor.

Y/N walked closer to him and raised his head looking him directly in his eyes as she spoke. “You have the most beautiful skin and wonderful eyes I have ever seen Loki. Never feel ashamed of being different, it makes you who you are.”

Loki reached out to touch her face. “I should say the same to you dear mortal. You have the voice of a Goddess and the beauty to match, both inside and out. From the first time you walked in the meeting room singing I was captivated by you.”

Y/N could tell he was sincere in his statement. Smiling she leaned closer and brushed her lips against his still blue lips. Neither of them noticed Tony walk to the Library until after they broke the kiss staring into each others eyes.

Tony was taken back for a moment by Loki’s Jotun form. Then he cleared his throat to get their attention and let them know he was there. “About time I found you two it’s time for supper we ordered pizza.”

Y/N threw a harmless ice dagger that missed Tony entirely but he got the hint.

Tony huffed, “Alright Elsa I’ll leave you and the Smurf alone, but I can’t guarantee there will be any Pizza left. You know super soldiers and God’s can pack food away.” Having made his comment he left.

Loki smiled at Y/N and reluctantly let go off her chin while putting his illusion back in place. “I guess we best join them before Stark lets them eat everything.”

Y/N smiled, “I do quite like pizza.”

The two of them walked hand in hand down the hall and joined the others in the dining room.

#fanfic #loki x y/n #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #writing challenge

73 notes · View notes

yaminobean · 4 years

Link

(A story for the CPC fandom that I came up with. I know its self indulgent but what fanfic writer isn't. Frederick is one of my favorite characters and I think he deserves a lot more respect for trying to change. He already took the first step standing up to his verbally abusive dad, so I decided to write this story with Frederick's anger and frustration peaking before the Pastel Ball. This fic will be rated T for language and violence. Disclaimer: I do not own the The Cursed Princess Club. All credit goes to LambCat on Webtoon. This is all for fun and I just really love this comic.

CPC: Ch.1

Frederick's Thoughts: Italicized

" Useless! Absolutely useless! Once again your complete incompetence surprises me!" screamed the Plaid King as he threw the shredded remains of Frederick's proposal in his face. He flinched away, dread creeping up from his toes.

Well, here we go again.

"This is your proposal?! More trees and libraries!? How can my own flesh and blood come up with something so pathetic!?"

The king groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where did I go wrong with you? I trained your brothers the same way and they turned out fine. Why can't you be more like them? Lance and Blaine have been turning in manlier proposals since they were toddlers.

Frederick rolled his eyes as he replied, " I'm pretty sure Lance only just learned to do that last year." The King gave a hard stare to his son.

"You know what!? Theres still a lot you can learn from your brothers. So today you will be shadowing both of them during their daily duties. I can only hope that even a scrap of their excellence would seep into that fragile body of yours." The king turned on his heels and walked away from Frederick, muttering, "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I sired a daughter." Frederick felt a familiar numbness echo in his chest as he picked up the remains of his ruined proposal off the floor. "You didn't even really read it….." He said to no one.

What was I even expecting? Of course he didn't read it through. If there isn't even one mention of fighting or anything Father considers "manly" enough, he treats it like dirt. I constantly try to please him and for what? Why do I need him to be happy? He'll always be disappointed with me, he'll never care about me…..

Frederick felt tears itching his eyes.

Would it even matter if I was here?

Frederick stood up and briskly walk down the hall to the library. Screw the shadowing. I need to relax. Frederick was just turning the corner when he bumped into someone, nearly dropping his damaged proposal. "Ah, sorry about that, Frederick, I didn't really see you there." said Lance, his second elder brother. The tall man with light-bluish hair helped Frederick get his a few pages of his proposal straightened out. "Its fine, Lance." Frederick replied. Lance smiled. "Dad said that you were going to be tailing me today. So get into your work clothes, our first lesson is a nice spar in the gym!" he said as he slapped Fredrick hard on the back. Frederick frowned as his normally bright green eyes dulled. "Actually Lance, I'm not really feeling up to it right now. I'm just gonna go and-"

he said as he tried to walk pass his older brother. But Lance moved in front of Fredrick's path. " Ok. Then lets take a look at your proposal then and see if we can improve it." he said as he snatched Fredrick's papers. Frederick reached out for them but Lance held him back as he read aloud what he could make out. "Lets see….. "Increase flora production in the kingdom"… "focusing on growing our some of our own plants"...encourage gardening among the men! Whoa! No wonder dad was mad!" Frederick made a grab for the papers. "Give it back, Lance!" he yelled.

Lance simply dodged Fredrick's leap and continued reading. "Improve the education system in the Kingdom with more libraries…. Make them more available to people farther from the main city….. start a Writer's Guild for inspiring authors! Whaaaat!" Frederick grabbed the papers from Lance with a snarl. "Give me that!" he said holding the pages close to his chest. Lance patted Fredrick's shoulder with a smile. " Don't worry. My first few proposals were crappy too. We just have to take out all the girlie stuff."

Frederick stiffened as he looked up at Lance; Heat beginning to rise to his face. "What?"

Lance continued, oblivious of Fredrick's disturbing expression. " You know, all this stuff about getting guys into gardening and writing and stuff. Its all girlie stuff. Guys don't belong in gardens growing flowers or holed up in a room writing about their "feelings". They're supposed to be out there fighting for the kingdom, hunting, doing real manly work. Come on, Frederick, you were just asking dad to yell at you if you brought him this."

Frederick was quiet; His heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He clenched his fist, crumpling the torn papers. Something stirred inside of him, something that thrashed and howled in its fleshy cage. Its fiery body burning through every inch of his being. He wanted to let it out. Let it all out. He wanted to get in Lance's face and just scream until he couldn't even make a sound.

He needed to get away.

Frederick walked past Lance, continuing his trip to the library. Lance called out to him, keeping behind his brother. "Wait up, bro! This won't take long. We'll take out the lame stuff and put in something like exploring new lands or something. Then if you feel up to it we can spar later. Sound cool?"

Frederick stopped, still looking at the ground.

"Is your eyesight good?"

Lance cocked his head in confusion. "Huh? Yeah, why do you ask?"

Frederick turned his head to him slightly; Just enough for Lance to catch the cold furry filled green eyes of his younger brother.

"Because I didn't think you could see very well with your head so far up your ass." he replied. Then Frederick walked away, leaving Lance frozen in place. The second oldest brother's mouth hung open with shock and confusion. As Lance watched his brother turn a corner and disappear, he struggled to comprehend what his baby brother had just said to him.

And why?

9 notes · View notes

missneko-otaku · 6 years

Text

A Faint Affection (MC x Yasumasa)

(Writer’s Note: I am new to SLBP fandom. I just discovered it recently. Even in the fanfiction world, I am new. So there are terms that are new and alien to me, like headcannons, fluff, the like– tho some I have a bit of a clue (just a tiny bit) what it is, but, still, I am clueless in so many fandom/ fanfiction terms. This will be my first time, writing a fanfic. So, please, be a little forgiving if my work seems not to satisfy you for I am not perfect ^ↀᴥↀ^ . And if there is some bit of grammatical errors (or regarding characters), please do forgive me (and correct me in what part, etc. too), for English is not my mother tongue. I am more of a reader than of a writer by the way. But I write from time to time. So, yeah..umm hope you like it. ʕ⊙ᴥ⊙ʔ

PS. I want to say thank you for these blogs: ieyasu-tacogawa.tumblr.com and bmp-slbp-matchup.tumblr.com (Rose-chan..!!˶⚈Ɛ⚈˵) Some of their posts provided info that helped me get a better understanding of Sakakibara Yasumasa’s character (and confirmed some of my assumptions about him). I only knew him mainly in Tokugawa Ieyasu’s (hey hubby~! ♡ ♡ ♡ (ㆁᴗㆁ✿) Look, I finally finished writing a chapter!) main story route. I didn’t know if he had many event stories in the past, if it is then too bad I wasn’t able to play it! Anyway, I have this little crush on him. And I can’t help but imagine some sweet scenarios about him (≖ᴗ≖✿) so here I am, ended up writing a fanfic for him. I hope that you like it as much as I do!)Sakakibara Yasumasa

A Faint Affection (MC x Yasumasa)

-Chapter 1/ Chapter 2/ Chapter 3/ Chapter 4/ Chapter 5/ Chapter 6-7 *new

Chapter 1

Pale Moonlight, Burned Fishes, Sighs

It’s been a few weeks since I have begun living as Yahiko, under the care of the Tokugawa Clan. Replacing my brother as a poison taster to save him from the magistrate’s irrational displeasure because I turned him down, bluntly, not letting myself succumb to his desire for me to be his bride. I disguised myself as a boy and let that fool magistrate sent me here, unknowingly, instead of my little brother Yahiko.

It was the only best solution at that time. Well, as if I had any other options to begin with. We are just a normal family who owns a small restaurant in Kyoto, born under no titles. Powerless and weak to those who have it.

I’m the eldest daughter. And being the eldest just means the responsibility falls on my shoulders: to protect my mother and my little brother. Since my father passed away because of war, leaving us and the restaurant behind, and a duty for me to take, it is no surprise for me to think and act this way. I will do anything to protect my family. That, I swore to myself ever since he left us.

Of course, it is no easy feat. Who on earth in their right mind would throw themselves unprepared in such situations just that so easily without thinking first the consequences that will come later? Right?!

Oh yeah, there is one. Me.

I may not look like it right now but living and pretending as a boy here in this place full of lords, samurais and who knows what’s more, is surely very difficult. Even mentally. It is like throwing yourself into a lion’s den or getting cornered by a pack of wild dogs. Everyday feels like I’m stepping on a sea of needles, giving me an unpleasant feeling in my stomach every now and then. Anxious that someone might know my little secret.

To make matters much more challenging than it already is, I have to not let myself get in trouble. And when I say in trouble, get into the nerves of Tokugawa Ieyasu. The young lord of the Tokugawa clan who seems around the same age as me or so, I think. An ally of Lord Oda Nobunaga, the Lord of Fools. He’s deceptive and ruthless young lord masking himself with that trickster smile of his.

As I remind myself of these, I almost cut myself with the knife I am using. The kitchen ladies here have asked me to lend them a hand as they prepare an early feast. The Tokugawa clan won a recent battle, making the cause of all these ruckus in the kitchen. Looks like it will be a busy afternoon for all of us.

“Yahiko!”

A sudden loud voice calling me, snapping me back to reality.

“Yes..!” I reply back hastily.

“After peeling those potatoes, can you wash the greens on the basket please?” asks by an old kitchen lady with a basket full of freshly picked mushrooms who is in a hurry as well.

I nod at her and before I get to say something, she rushes inside the kitchen without even looking back at me.

“Sigh..” I exhale as I finish the last remaining potatoes I have yet to peel.

***

I finished peeling the potatoes after what seemed like endless to me. I peacefully go with a hint of smile painted on my face, a wooden bucket in my right hand and a basket full of vegetable greens on the other to the well. Just a few walking distance from the kitchen. I stride, looking up into the huge clear sky above me when suddenly–

“….?!”

Before I know it, I stumble upon something hard in front of me, making me lose my balance, fall to the ground and sending my vegetables flying mid-air.

“Hey!! Watch out where you are going!” a familiar irritated voice, snaps at me.

When I look up it is no other than Yasumasa Sakakibara. Oh great. Of all people that I have to bump into, why this guy?

“..I-I’m sorry.” is all the word I can utter under my shaky tone, afraid that I might annoy him even further. I don’t want to put myself on his bad side after all.

He looks down at me with eyes full of usual contempt in them. He is mean and ruthless to almost everybody who is below him. But he isn’t usually like that towards other retainers who he thinks is the same level as him or to someone above him. I don’t even know why he is always mean like that, especially to me. I can feel it somehow. It’s as if he hates me like how he naturally dislike women. Or is it just me? Or because I look like one a bit that’s why he’s more irritated?

“What are you looking at boy?!” hisses lord Yasumasa back at me, his eyes glaring.

Ugh.

“Nothing milord.” I hurriedly pick up all the vegetables that have fallen on the ground while he walks pass at me, arms crossed, still hissing like I even inconvenienced him badly or something.

That man.

I can only sigh in my mind as I think him together with lord Ieyasu, a pair that I would like to avoid getting into trouble with.

Oh well…

Though I find myself amazed by the fact that despite his horrible attitude to me all the time, not once it did give me enough hard ill feelings to harbor against him. It’s like I became a bit accustomed to it now. But, I do now wonder if he ever been even kind to anyone in all his life.

***

The feast ended nicely. It is past evening, very late, silence hangs over the still cold air of the night. Tiredness starts to creep within me as I clean the tatami floor by wiping it with a dry cloth. They sure had totally enjoyed themselves seeing the place is a real quite a mess. You can smell the alcohol lingering in the room. Bottles of sake everywhere.

Well it can’t be helped, not only they won but the fact that they returned alive from the battlefield is a big miracle to be joyful and thankful about. Thinking about it, I feel a little happiness flow within me for their families and loved ones.

After wiping the entire tatami floor, I go out with my hands full of bottles of sake when I pass lord Yasumasa on the hallway. I bow and greet him with sincerity because he returned safe as well– knowing that he, of course, sure has a family too that waits for him.

“Hmpf.” sighs lord Yasumasa in an irritating manner as our eyes meet after I took my bow at him.

What..?! (sighs)

I try not to let that simple act of his usual meanness towards me to bother me at all. As I stare at his back where the moonlight showers his silhouette with its pale light, I notice that there’s something odd on the way he is walking. I fix my eyes on him for a few more seconds when he–

Whaa..?!

Right.

He topples on the side of the hallway’s veranda and lands himself onto the outside garden with a loud thud. From the sound of it, you could assume that it is a painful fall.

It happens so fast my body isn’t able to react at all. I am staring at the somehow funny scene while my mouth agape and my eyes in huge astonishment at the very, very rare scene that only, I am able to take a hold of. Though it lasts for only seconds.

After a delay that lasted with a blink of an eye, my senses come back to me. I hurriedly let go of the sake bottles on my hands and go straight at lord Yasumasa, who is still unconscious, unmoving from where he landed himself.

Is he dead??

He is sprawled out, lying flat on his stomach.

I try calling his name, but no response. I move him, now his face upwards towards me. I try again calling him, lightly tapping his face, his cheeks and forehead that feels a bit hot because of the shock it took. Still he isn’t responding at all.

There we are outside in the broad moonlight, his face completely bare for me to see. His caramel brown hair bit tousled in a mess, his eyelids, his cheeks…his forehead and his nose, faintly glowing because of the pale moonlight above us. For the first time, lord Yasumasa looks…so beautiful and vulnerable.

Whaaat?!

Waiit!!! Get a hold of yourself! It’s the moonlight that does the trick..!

I unconsciously slap him a bit hard out of surprise from the sudden unusual thought that came to me.

“O-ouch.” Yasumasa murmurs. The sprawled out man at last has got his senses back. Or so, I thought…

He moves a little bit, his eyes twitching from the slap I just gave him. Then like a child in pain, he falls asleep again.

Oh my… I give up.

Surely, I can not wake him and get him back into his senses nor lift him by myself up to his chamber. So, I, at last call for some help.

***

It is morning.

The weather is nice because I can see the sky above me so clear and blue. Even the sight of the warm morning light is breathtaking. I always wake up early to help out, mostly the kitchen ladies. Somehow because of the good job I always do aside from laundry, it became a habit for them to ask me out for some help they needed in preparing to serving meals all day. (And if you’re wondering what happened to my previous job title, I don’t know how it happened but seeing my usefulness on how I help out the kitchen ladies much better than being a poison taster, lord Tadatsugu promoted me into an errand runner. Yes, for me this is a promotion because at last my life wouldn’t be in death’s door anymore.)

I am in the kitchen grilling some fish for the lords’ breakfast. The breakfast we are preparing for today is a light, typical one: hot rice, grilled fish, miso soup, some pickled vegetables and tamagoyaki– knowing they are exhausted for sure from drinking hard last night.

While doing so, fanning the grilling line of fish in front of me, the last night’s events seems not to get away from me. Or should I say, the many scenes from last night’s are etched completely in my head.

I was able to get some help last night. A young man, one of the servants of Yasumasa himself, who was cleaning heard me and offered some help for the old ones were still busy having their lively, idle talk. We were able to drag and get the drunken lord Yasumasa to his chamber. I thank his young servant but soon he left us to get back to what he was doing.

We were alone. The candle light flickering, casting some shadows on the walls and giving lord Yasumasa’s sleeping face a glimmer.

I laid out nicely his bedding on the tatami floor.

“Lord Yasumasa, I will put you into your bed now.” I said almost like a whisper to the man sleeping like a log.

I tried to lift him up but ended up dragging his body into his bedding.

“Sorry.” I sighed, feeling guilty and apologetic because how I dragged him like a rice sack surely wasn’t a polite and proper manner to do so to a samurai lord like him.

I lightly put his arms on both sides and tucked him into bed. I found myself, unconsciously, looking at him in his sleeping demeanor. I stared at him, almost tempted to touch the features of a sleeping Yasumasa who was defenseless.

He looked very different. Like the man in front of me was a another whole new Yasumasa. Kind and innocent, not in his usual snarling, mean facet. It was very strange to me and intriguing at the same time. I never thought he could look so innocent as this just in his sleep.

“Oh..you are really handsome.” the words loosely slipped from my mouth without hesitation after the realization that it wasn’t the moonlight’s trick outside nor the flickering effect of the candle around us. Lord Yasumasa, without his usual meanness, indeed is really handsome.

Come to think of it, I was, like, in a trance. I was weirdly staring at him, kneeling beside him without a flinch, for some time.

I left him in his chamber, quietly closing the wooden sliding door.

Hm.

Waiit! Why am I thinking about him?! Get back to your senses, girl! You should be focusing on your work right now. Grill the fish well until it’s nicely cooked.. Yep, that’s the smell of grilling fish starting to cook wel—???!!!

Puff of clouds and the smell of burnt smoke was spreading into the still morning air around me. My fish are burning to a crisp!

***

We go and start to serve their breakfast in the main room. Everyone is visibly tired, yawning and if not, looking half-asleep still. Together with the maids, we serve one by one their trays, chopsticks. Soon, follows bowls of brown rice, pickled vegetables, sliced tamagoyaki rolls and lastly my perfect burned grilled fish. The head cook is really angry at me but because there is no time and to top of it, there is nothing to substitute for it, we don’t have a choice but to serve it and think of an excuse which up to now– we haven’t thought of yet.

But, oddly, my mind is afloat to something else. My eyes are wandering in the room, as I serve and put down lord Ieyasu’s less burnt grilled fish– the only, if not the best, not totally burned one.

He’s not here, huh? I think to myself.

“Ohh..seems something is different on today’s fish?”

Hearing those words, my attention drifts back to lord Ieyasu’s sudden morning remark. Through his eyes and feigned childlike smile painted on his fair face that is directed at me, I know then that he has seen through me the blunder that we or more exactly, I did earlier just this morning.

I feel a cold sweat run through my skin as I am kneeling just beside lord Ieyasu. And I could see that he sensed it. If glares could kill, so does lord Ieyasu’s blank eyes and his quiet smile.

Before I could say anything, he cut me so swiftly.

“I hope this will be the last time. I am not fond of someone playing with my food, whoever did this, tell him, he should throw himself into a cliff or something instead of ruining my morning appetite. Maybe perhaps I’ll be more glad. Don’t you think?”

And all I can do after that what seemed like a death wish to me is to gulp inaudibly.

***

I remove lord Ieyasu’s grilled fish from his tray and go out of my way from the main room. I walk, feeling thankful that he didn’t cook me alive and that the others are so tired that maybe they didn’t bother complaining about theirs.

I stride nonchalantly now in the hall when my eyes catch a glimpse of a figure. He is walking on the other side of the hall. He is yawning and slightly dragging his feet. He overslept? Well, who wouldn’t. It is the first time, though, that I see him late for breakfast.

If it wasn’t for last night, I wouldn’t bother thinking at all about it, dragging his feet, waking late for breakfast and all. But because I know, I can’t help but get distracted by his trivial movements.

As I expected, he is wearing his usual meanness, self-confident facade again. It’s like what I saw last night was just all but a dream.

I bow at him as he passes me without even giving a glance.

Sighs.

..! Why am I sighing? Am I disappointed?

I shake my head deliberately and head to the kitchen.

乁༼☯‿☯✿༽ㄏ

@ieyasu-tacogawa @shiranata

#slbp #fanfic #mc x yasumasa slbp #slbp yasumasa #fic

53 notes · View notes

heckstetter · 7 years

Text

The Bowers Gang reacts to their S/O getting their nipples pierced!

What up, I’m Alex, I’m 19, and I never fuckin’ learned how to read and this is my first set of headcanons/drabbles for the IT (2017) fandom! I haven’t written fanfic in a very,,, long time,,,, but requests are always open!

The Bowers Gang react to their S/O after they got their nipples pierced for their birthday. Boys and Reader are 18+, I don’t mention a gender for the reader anywhere but they have breasts and wear bras because I said so, nobody requested this, it’s just self-indulgent to celebrate the two years since I’ve gotten my own done anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This gets pretty NSFW in some parts, but nobody explicitly has sex.

Everything is under the cut.

Henry:

“And just where the fuck have you been all day, Y/N?”

Of course, that’s the first thing out of your boyfriend’s mouth the moment he lays eyes on you. The school cafeteria was bustling with students eating, joking around with friends, or rushing to finish homework at the last minute. You weren’t surprised at Henry’s harsh words or the way his face was flushed with anger, you had skipped your first four class periods in a city a little over an hour away without telling him beforehand.

“I was doing something for me.” You say with a shrug as you sauntered over to where he was sitting alone, his gang of friends off either torturing kids smaller than them or spending their lunch period eating. Your lackadaisical response to his anger only seemed to piss him off even more, his fists clenched tightly by his side like he was considering decking you in the face. “My older sibling is in town for my birthday and they took me to go get my present.”

“And what, that couldn’t fuckin’ wait until after school?” He hissed, grabbing your arm roughly and dragging you closer to him, “You were in such a fuckin’ hurry that you had to be a thoughtless cunt and disappear without tellin’ me?”

“Henry, stop!” You whine as he pulls you closer, his chest now touching yours. The sensitive piercings slid harshly against the fabric of your bra and you cursed, shoving Henry away from you and gently crossing your arms over your chest to prevent anymore unwanted attention to that area. “Motherfucker, ow! If you’d have been nice, I would’ve shown you just what my present was cause it was ‘sposed to be for both of us.”

Henry paused at that, seeming to calm considerably at the idea that you would do something for your birthday that would ultimately benefit him. He carefully gave you a onceover, trying to figure out what your surprise could be.

“’M not sorry for grabbing you roughly.” He said, truthfully, “You usually don’t complain when I grab you like that.”

“It wasn’t the grabbing so much as the- the uh…” You trailed off, not sure how to continue. Your unease only furthered to piss him off, you didn’t usually act like a shy, stuttering mess and when you did, it was for something you knew would upset him further.

“Spit it the fuck out already, dumbass.” Henry said, with a roll of his eyes, stepping closer to you.

“The rubbing. Your chest against mine because… becauseIjustgotmynipplespierced.” You spat out faster than any nasty joke Trashmouth Tozier could come up with.

“You— I’m… You did… I want to see!” Henry blurted out, his hands immediately flying towards them hem of your shirt to tug it up.

You slap his hands away but before he can protest the rejection, the school bell rang signaling that your lunch period had ended and that you needed to start making your way towards your next class. When you expressed that to Henry, he snorted.

“What, so now being in class is so fuckin’ important to you?” But nonetheless, he let you scurry past him down the hall and towards your next class.

You couldn’t help but feel that he only let you do so with the hopes of you being more eager to show him the surprise under your shirt. A smile creeped its way onto your face as you imagined your boyfriend spending the rest of his day agonized over actually getting to see the now-ruined surprise. Henry would bitch and moan at you until you finally showed him, but you planned to make him wait. After all, the payoff would be oh-so worth it.

Patrick:

“Come with me, please?” You asked, your eyes wide and doe-like as you tugged lightly on your boyfriend’s arm, “I wanna show you something, babe.”

“Mmhm, is that what we’re calling our little trysts in the Janitor’s closet now?” Patrick teased, his hands grabbing at anything he could reach while he let you lead him towards the closet; your hips, your ass, the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “Show n’ Tell?”

“Oh, it’s a Show n’ Tell, alright.” You said with a snicker as you ushered your freakishly tall boyfriend into the cramped space before you entered it yourself, closing and locking the door behind you.

Patrick reached around you to flick the light on, his hand brushing against your chest as he pulled it back towards him. You hissed in pain and immediately whirled around to slap at him and his creepy, wandering hands.

“No touching until I say you can!” You said with a snarl, before reeling back and realizing your mistake.

Patrick didn’t like his dominance over you being tested like that, and you knew you’d really be in for a brutal punishment if the widening of his grin and his tongue darting out to wet his lips was anything to go by.

“Wait! Before- before you punish me for… well, anything you’re about to punish me for, really, can I show you my surprise first?” You ask, looking up at him from under fluttering eyelashes, your lips in a perfect pout, and altogether a look of innocence and assured submission if he could grant you this one little request.

Patrick’s eyes roamed over your form from head to toe as he mentally weighed the pros and cons of acquiescing your request. He tilted his head to the side, his grin turning into a scowl and a deep suffering sigh fell from his lips.

“Just make it fucking quick, Y/N. You’re already pushing your luck with me today, what with not showing up for school for over four hours without telling me why. That alone has you on thin fucking ice.” He said, and while normally that dark, promising tone of voice would have you panting for a punishment and sobbing for his forgiveness (and an orgasm), today it felt like a wave of relief and a god damned miracle.

You made quick work of your t-shirt but stopped when you got to your bra. Your initial plan had been to thoroughly tease Patrick before the big reveal of what you had done to your body, but you knew his patience had already been worn thin by your absence from school earlier in the day and anymore teasing would land you get you in more trouble than you were ready for. You decided that the quicker your surprise was revealed, the better it’d be for the both of you and you hastily removed your bra.

“Ta-dah…” You say without much confidence, but are instantly reassured as soon as Patrick’s eyes are fixed on the silver barbells protruding from each nipple. He opens and closes his mouth, rendered speechless for a good few moments.

“Did… did it hurt?” He settles on, and then makes a sour face at his own question. Of course it had fucking hurt, and he could still see flakes of dried blood around your nipples.

“Yea, not a good kind of hurt either, but I couldn’t get the thought out of my head after you mentioned seeing it in a porn mag, and I wanted to do it because I think it’s pretty but also because I knew you’d like it.” You say softly, looking down at your own nipples, “They’re super sore now too, I didn’t really think about how long it’d take ‘em to heal or how long they’d be hurting but, uh… It’s gonna be a while before you can touch ‘em or play with ‘em. Sorry.”

“No!” He blurts out, somewhat uncharacteristically. In this moment, it would have been usual for Patrick to take advantage of your self-proclaimed mistake, to turn your apology into a favor you’d owe him but all he could think of was you did this with him in mind. You had paid someone to mutilate your body for him to play with, for him to tug at and suck on and every other little nasty thing he was planning in the back of his head and if that was just about the hottest god damned thing to him. His hands cupped your breasts softly, careful to avoid the fresh piercings. “Don’t be sorry, babygirl, I love them now and I’ll love on them when they’re all healed up.”

“You really like them, Patrick?” You ask, your voice shy and soft but your body language screaming otherwise. You leaned into his touch, arching your back to show off your modified chest even more and then slowly rolling your hips into his. Patrick’s evident arousal tenting in his jeans was all the proof you needed that he truly loved your little surprise but you wanted to hear him say it again, and again, and again.

“I do.” Patrick said honestly, “But you better get on your knees and take care of the problem they’re causing before I change my mind about waiting ‘til they’re healed.”

Vic:

“Okay, explain this to me again. Somehow, it’s your birthday but I’m the one who’s getting a surprise?” Your boyfriend asked, his face scrunched up adorably in his confusion as the two of you make your way up to your bedroom.

You had been absent from school for the first half of the day, but had the forethought to warn Vic that you’d be gone beforehand and to ask him if you could monopolize his time as soon as school got out. Being the ever-dutiful boyfriend that he was, Vic agreed to follow you home without hesitation, regardless of the whipping noises and other lewd jokes his friends had been making from behind him.

“It’s not just for you, Vic.” You say as you open your bedroom door, allowing him to step inside, “It’s for me too, but I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to do it had you not expressed your interest beforehand.”

“My interest in whaaaat?” Vic whined as he flopped down on your bed, toeing off his boots before you could scold him for getting your bed dirty. “Stop being so fuckin’ vague, just show me already!”

“Is that anyway to treat your S/O on their birthday?” You asked mockingly, closing the door behind you. He looked up at you with a lecherous smirk, his hand snaking down to his crotch, grabbing it roughly.

“I’ll give you a birthday treat if you ask nicely.” He said, continuing to palm himself through the front of his jeans. “Let’s skip the surprise and get straight to the birthday sex!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you crawled onto his lap, threading one of your hands through his bleach-blonde hair to tug him forward. He let out a choked out moan as his hair was pulled, his hand stopping the rubbing movements to grip at his growing erection.

“Mmm…” You moan softly, your lips brushing against his in a chaste mockery of a kiss, “As much as I’d love to skip straight to the birthday sex, my surprise is going to lead there anyway.” You loosened your grip on his hair so he could slump back with a sigh.

Vic removed his hands from himself, placing them on your waist instead. Irritation flared in his chest; he was a teenage boy, he was horny, and he wanted you now. But ultimately, Vic loved you too much to protest your rejection and instead just gazed into your eyes lovingly. His thumbs rubbed small, soothing circles into your hips as he spoke,

“If that’s where this was gonna lead this whole time, you should’ve just said so.” He said, letting you take control of the situation in the only way a Bowers’ Boy could. “We’re alone now, what’s the surprise?”

“Good boy.” You purred at his submission, your hands moving to the hem of your shirt. You ever-so-slowly pulled it above your head, flinging it to the other side of your bedroom once it was completely off. You silently wished you could have been wearing something sexier than an old, loose-fitting sports bra but you had needed something comfortable to wear at your piercing appointment. Making quick work of the bra as well, you sat straddling your boyfriend’s lap completely topless, breasts and brand-new nipple piercings bared to the world.

Vic felt his jaw go slack at the sight of the silver barbells in each nipple, completely speechless at the sight of his lover with such a provocative body modification. He felt his erection twitch in his pants, the excitement from such a sexual surprise stirring him back to attention.

“I… You…” He tried to think of a complete sentence, but words were the absolute last thing on his mind. He ended up squeaking out, “For me?”

“Yeah, baby!” You say with a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of rendering your boy speechless. “Do you like them?” You ask, shaking your torso slightly, letting your tits sway in his face.

“Yessssss,” He hissed out and rolled his hips desperate for some form of relief, completely transfixed on how fucking sexy you looked sitting on top of him like that, your new jewelry catching the light and a downright dirty grin on your face. “Can I touch ‘em?”

“Not yet, baby boy.” You say, somewhat mournfully, moving your hands over his to prevent him from trying to play with your new piercings. “They need some time to heal before you can touch them, otherwise they’ll get infected and I’ll have to take them out.”

Vic nodded solemnly, lacing his fingers with yours to distract him from the temptation of playing with your new toys. “Can we do… other things?” He asked, looking up in your eyes in complete awe and adoration.

“Of course, Victor.” You say with a soft smile, “Didn’t you say something about birthday sex?”

Belch:

You sat silently in the front passenger seat of your boyfriend’s Trans Am, gazing out the front window but not focused enough to actually see anything. Belch sat next to you, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. The two of you were just sitting in the high school parking lot when you should have been in class, but neither of you particularly cared about making it to your respective classrooms at this point.

He was upset with you, a rare occasion in and of itself because you weren’t one to get yourself in trouble or start fights and even if you were that kind of person, Belch was usually right by your side. Therein lied your whole problem, though. By the time Belch rolled up to your house this morning to pick you up for school, you were long gone over an hour away with your older sibling. You hadn’t told him you were skipping most of school today, you hadn’t told him that you were going to the next town over, and you hadn’t told him why.

“I just…” He began but trailed off, unable to verbally express his feelings. Instead of words, he moved one of his hands from the steering wheel to your lap, squeezing your thigh softly and squeezing his eyes shut as he inhaled deeply before saying, “You had me worried.”

“Reggie…” You sighed his other nickname softly as you moved your own hand to cover his, lacing your fingers together. “I’m sorry. It was supposed to be a surprise for both of us, I just… I hadn’t expected it to take so long. I should’ve told you beforehand that I was gonna be absent this morning but I didn’t think about it.”

After your apology the two of you fell into another uncomfortable silence, but he continued holding your hand which you took as a good sign. After a few more moments, you shifted your whole body, leaning closer to Belch so you could rest your head on his shoulder and he let out a deep sigh and turned slightly so he could kiss the top of your head.

“I can’t say it’s okay cause it… it’s not.” He said solemnly, “But I’ll forgive you, ‘s long as you promise not t’ disappear on me again, you hear me?”

“I promise, Reggie.” You say sincerely, looking up at him teary-eyed but smiling, “Can I show you why? I promise it’s gonna be a fun surprise.”

“Sure, baby.” Belch said, smiling back at you as the mood in the car lifted to something much more playful and happy. You shifted away from him, de-tangling your hand from his so you could tug your shirt up and over your head.

“Hold up, as much as I love havin’ you naked in my car, you sure you wanna do this here?” He asked, gesturing to the other cars surrounding you in the parking lot. Everyone else was in class, but it wasn’t uncommon for students to venture out to their vehicles either to skip or to grab something they forgot.

“I’m sure.” You say, working on the clasp of your bra, “No one at this school is dumb enough to get close to your car, babe. And anyone who is, won’t dare say a damn thing lest they want to worry about havin’ you and the rest of your boys on their ass.”

Belch doesn’t respond verbally, just nodding his head at the truth of your statements. Henry and the rest of the gang would be more than happy to beat the shit out of anyone who dared to disrespect Belch’s girl, regardless of if they actually cared for her (in Vic and Belch’s case) or if they just found joy in ganging up on people (in Henry and Patrick’s case).

You finally got your bra unclasped, holding the cups in front of your breasts with your hands as you smiled mischievously at Belch.

“You ready for this, hon?” You asked, slowly letting the cups of your bra slide down the curve of your breasts enjoying the way his eyes were fixed firmly where you wanted them to be. He shifted— almost nervously— in his seat as your bra finally fell into your lap and your surprise was revealed.

Belch let out a low wolf whistle as he took in the sight of the silver barbells fastened through your brand-new nipple piercings, a surprise he certainly hadn’t expected to receive for your 18th birthday.

He faintly remembers seeing a model with the same piercings in a porn mag that Patrick had passed around a while back. He hadn’t thought anything of it since then-- beyond a night of imagining you with your nipples done like that--but that had been a night spent alone with his left-hand. Not once did he think that you had also longed to see yourself with that body modification, and he never had the guts to bring it up to you outside of his fantasies.

Seeing you now, sitting topless in the passenger seat of his beloved car looking so fucking fine with your silver jewelry glinting in the sunlight, he couldn’t help but immediately move towards you. One of his hands went to the back of your hair, tangling his fingers through your H/C locks to pull you into a rough kiss. Your teeth clacked against his slightly, but you both ignored the pain in favor of letting your tongues explore each other’s mouths hungrily. His other hand cupped one of your breasts, careful to avoid the fresh piercing but firm enough to convey his pleasure at your body modification.

You pulled back from the kiss, a shit-eating grin on your face as you grabbed the wrist of the hand that was tangled in your hair to pull it down towards your other breast so that Belch could cup them both.

“Do you like them, Reggie?” You asked, voice deep and breathy, “That girl in the porn mag looked so fucking hot with her nipples pierced, baby, I’ve been thinking about getting ‘em done every day since I saw her.”

“Baby girl, Y/N, light of my fuckin’ life, I love them.”

#henry bowers x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #victor cross x reader #belch huggins x reader #it 2017 imagines #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #victor cross #belch huggins #headcanons #im not sorry #texts from the crypt

497 notes · View notes

jemariel · 6 years

Text

Sherlock, Supernatural, and How I Am Trying to Take Shipping Less Seriously

I want to tell my story.

(tl;dr: I have a lot more fun with shipping when I don’t worry about whether or not it will ever be canon. OR: Never put that much faith in the hands of showrunners. It always ends BAD.gif)

I wrote most of this post months ago and it’s been rotting away in my drafts since maybe March? It seemed like a good time to actually post it. This is my own personal perspective, where I’m coming from on this. Obviously everyone’s feelings and opinions are 100% their own and I respect that. We’re all coming from somewhere.

Soooo. I’ve been lurking in various fandoms for a long time. I started in 2001, when I was 14. I’ve seen a lot of changes in fandom and the internet and how we interact with our favorite media. Now seemed like a good time for me to sort through this.

My first OTP was in Highlander. It was, for all intents and purposes, a dead fandom when I arrived. The show had been cancelled 5 years before I even discovered that other people wrote and posted their fanfiction, and one half of my pairing was dead for the final series. The pair I read about maybe shared half an hour of screen time through the whole three seasons they were both in the show? They had very little plot interaction at least.

I didn’t care. It didn’t stop me from reading about them. Didn’t stop me from wanting to put them in the same room and see what happened – usually them getting on like a house on fire.

The point is that we were under absolutely no impression that they would ever become canon. There was literally no possibility for it. But that didn’t matter. We could do what we wanted. We were just having fun.

After Highlander came Harry Potter. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. I don’t remember if I started shipping them before or after the 4th book but it was definitely long before the 5th book. This was the first time I had the inkling that maybe, possibly, JK Rowling might have actually intended them to be read that way. This is where I read my first meta, before it was called that – someone who went through the books and pulled out excerpts that made a person think. Wow that eye contact really did linger, I thought. Maybe that embrace wasn’t strictly brotherly, I said to myself.

At the time, queerbaiting was not even a word in the vernacular. So when the 6th book came out and Tonks and Remus became the most eyebrow-raising pairing I’ve ever encountered, I just shrugged and went on with my life. Sirius was dead anyway so this really changed nothing. I liked Remus the gay uncle werewolf, but bisexual was fine too. I mostly wrote and read about them during their school days anyway. So this was fine.

Eventually I moved on, and where I landed after that was in the grand daddy of all slash pairings, the first fandom in our current fanfiction zeitgeist: Star Trek, the Original Series. Kirk and Spock. This was still a couple of years before the 2009 reboot movies, so all I had was a cheesy 60s TV show with a venerable back catalogue of fanfic. What’s better, this ship could never be sunk! Of course they couldn’t ever be canon, it was the 60s. Times were different. I could ship them with fervor and never be disappointed because of course it was just our interpretation. … Wasn’t it?

Oh, Gene Roddenberry. You idealistic sonuvabitch. You created the Vulcan word “t’hy’la” specifically for Spock to use for Kirk, and you made it mean friend, brother, and lover? Was that really necessary or were you trying to tell us something?

Here I found more fledgling meta, and I went through the novelizations of the movies with a highlighter devouring every piece of evidence I could find. But while this ship was unsinkable, it would also never fly. Even if Roddenberry had intended this, or supported it after the fact, prejudice surely had kept his intentions in the background. Subtext was our friend. We could work with subtext. The subtext wove a gay love story the likes of which we haven’t seen since the ancient Greeks. I was happy with that.

But then.

2010. Sherlock.

I knew going into it that Holmes and Watson were the greatest love story never told. I figured it would be a fun pairing for a while. But oh. I was not prepared. And oh, be still my beating heart, the Angelo’s scene! If I recall correctly I actually sat up straighter in my chair at “so you’ve got a boyfriend then”/”No.” Could they… could he? Did they actually…? Was this written for… me? For us? Could we, the weird little corner of the fandom be right for once?? The slash shippers, the queer kids, the ones who had been peering between the lines for decades to try and catch glimpses of ourselves in our favorite stories?

I buried the thought for a few years, devouring Johnlock fanfic like it was my job, my civic duty, my vocation. I waited patiently for each new series. But I never actually expected anything to come of my hopes until after season 3.

Bet you guessed it. TJLC had caught me like a spark in dry grass. The few analyses I’d read before were NOTHING compared to this. Suddenly it all seemed so possible. So real. After The Abominable Bride it seemed like there was nowhere else to go, nowhere to go but up. We were right. WE WERE RIGHT! For a whole year, we got to relish the thought that it might actually happen.

…………….. Season 4 was… tough. It felt like a slap in the face, all of our hopes thrown back at us with ignorance at best, cruelty and direct malice at worst. If it had been a good season on its own without canon Johnlock I might have been okay, but as it is….. It was not the first time I’ve had my heart broken by a TV show, and probably only seems like the worst by virtue of being recent. But I would very much like it to be the last.

A few months before diving head-first into the pre season-4 gear-up, I watched a few seasons of Supernatural. Just enough to meet Castiel and lay the groundwork for a Destiel obsession as a contingency plan for if season 4 of Sherlock went all pear shaped. I’m glad I did or I don’t know where I would have found my refuge.

But I started to notice something. From my earliest wading in the Destiel end of the tumblr pond, I shied away quickly from any discussion of evidence, subtextual clues used to make predictions, or whether or not Destiel could or should or will be canon. I still take all meta and spec I read with a healthy pinch of salt. I am trying very hard not to care about whether or not it becomes canon, because honestly? I miss the days when whether or not a ship was canon or had a snowball’s chance of ever becoming so had absolutely nothing to do with whether or not I shipped it.

Fandom is just one of many echo chambers that the internet has molded around every one of us. It is so easy to become convinced that our way is right and everyone else’s way is wrong, because we only hear our own voices and those of people we agree with reflected back at us.

We are not the arbiters of what happens in canon. The showrunners are NOT obligated to listen to us. Not everyone can be right, and the showrunners cannot listen to everyone. Nor should they. They are, for better or for worse, creating their own story. Not ours.

We can always write the story the way we want to, over and over in countless different ways. These days I see a show almost more as a set of toys to play with than as its own impermeable whole. I can believe that Dean and Castiel have been slowly falling in love over the course of the last decade. I can decide when and where I want them to have first admitted it, to themselves or each other. What’s more – I can change my mind. Some days I like believing that they’ve been together since Cas’s hand print was still fresh on Dean’s shoulder. Some days I’d rather believe that they’re still pining and in various states of denial. Or anything in between – it’s all equally valid. Once it’s said and stated in canon, that’s it. That’s the show. That’s how it happened. I like the freedom I have when my ship is not explicitly canon. The best is when they are clearly aware of it and give us moments like the mixtape or the Fanfiction Gap of 9x06 – new toys to play with – but let us shape what’s actually going on. As I say in my tags sometimes: They clearly love us and want us to have nice things.

All of this is NOT to say that up-and-coming queer kids do not richly need and deserve representation. God, not at all. I beat myself up about this a lot, for what feels like a terribly selfish desire to just enjoy it and not worry about whether or not the up and coming queer youth could have it better than I did. They can and they should and I still believe that season 4 of Sherlock was the biggest missed opportunity in queer cinema history.

I just can’t take it so personally anymore. For the sake of my favorite hobby, I cannot stake my enjoyment of a pairing and a show on whether or not the showrunners want to take the risk. I cannot let them dangle me on that particular string. I cannot give them that power over me.

So this is my manifesto, for me personally. If Destiel becomes canon? I will be over the moon. But I will not go hunting for it. I won’t expect it. I will cherish every gift that the showrunners give to us because they’re not obligated to give us a damn thing, so I can’t take what they do give us for granted. I will live my headcanons, write my fics, and I will love the show for what it is, warts and all. I will ship my ship, enthusiastically and with my whole heart, because it brings me joy to do so. Canon or no canon. @starsinursa @daughter-of-the-rain-and-snow

#personal #fanfiction #highlander #richie/methos #harry potter #remus/sirius #torchwood #jack/ianto #star trek tos #kirk/spock #sherlock #johnlock #supernatural #destiel #fandom

120 notes · View notes

whythehandbasket · 7 years

Text

dee's super ultra 'this girl might have a problem' mega delux fanfic reclist

≡ haikyuu ≡

↳ iwaoi 「favourite writers: loveclouds -- carafin -- ohhotlamb -- newamsterdam --notallbees -- tothemoon」

Chasing Paper Suns – oneshot, college-future fic with long distance being the main theme, it’s heartbreakingly beautiful with a good ending

just hear me out – oneshot, amazing soulmate au with a twist

it’s bad enough we get along so well -- oneshot, where a confession happens before they leave for college

bloom -- oneshot, epic ability au set in canon volley verse

the river runs -- oneshot, getting back together

All kinds of winnders – oneshot, nsfw (iwa/oi) some good stuff

Diluculum – oneshot, hurt/comfort yumminess

Dinner and a Movie – oneshot, fakedating or is it? ;3c

Either Way – oneshot, nsfw, if you want good porn then here it is

sweet flesh and hard nails -- oneshot, nsfw, reunion sex

bad coffee & lemon bars – oneshot, my fav iwaoi coffeeshop au

the truth is out there – oneshot, it’s ridiculously funny

mint – oneshot, one of those writers i read everything for

Only Fools Fall – multichap completed, that rare epic a/b/o verse fic

stumbling into the sun – oneshot, nsfw, oikawa has a praise kink but not for that dirty talk kind, matsuhana is hilarious in this

Super Spy Husbands ‘Verse – fic series you might already know about but if not then get on with it bc its the most awesome thing!

you’re looking like you fell in love tonight – oneshot, fakepretend goodness

Loves Me, Loves Me Not -- oneshot, oikawa is being ridiculous

15Minutes – multichap completed, iwa-chan becomes famous

Storm Season – multichap completed, avatar au

↳ matsuhana

rated m for – oneshot, i want to see this au for every single of my ships

stranger things – oneshot, memelord radio djs, side iwaoi as always

hang out fall in love – oneshot, about witch doctors

plus one – oneshot, the canon one

poolside -- oneshot, pool confessions

↳ kurodai

If I Could Change Your Mind – oneshot, set during the training camp

the faster we are falling – oneshot, pining kuroo is my fav kuroo

And flowers bloom in his wake – oneshot, modern magic type of thing but set in canon

i ain’t even heard the question, but i know i’ll say yes – multi wip, kuroo failing at relationship gay chicken

A Friend’s Duty – oneshot, it’s about kurodai but the kurosuga interaction sells it

↳ oikuroo

burning bright – oneshot, elemental magic slash fictional sport shit going down, everyone should read this fic it’s a masterpiece

the dream that wakes you up – multichap completed, fakepretend / friends with benefits turning serious

bad boy & boy wonder -- oneshot, rival actors au

↳ ushioi

#notalovestory – oneshot, actors au with ushioi in a nutshell

A Place to Call Home – multichap completed, oikawa is ushiwaka’s kid’s babysitter and he gets ridiculously attached to both oh btw the kid is tobio! i adore this for the gorgeous and cute oikage interactions, baby tobio is precious.

The Benevolent King of the Grand King’s Heart – oneshot, that plottwist tho!!!

Slow Burn – oneshot, nsfw, for that quality sin aesthetic

↳ kurotsuki

the jaywalkers series – look, this fic series must be one of my all time fav hq anything that came out of this fandom, it made me believe that there are good kurotsuki fics out there and i don’t even ship this ship or i don’t outside of this fic. it has the most entertaining, funny, witty writing style i’ve ever seen, the amount of quotes i go back to in this fic are amazing. kurotsuki is also not the only ship it has iwaoi, bokuaka, yamayachi, daisuga too! a masterpiece in my book.

to the beat of my heart – twoshot, awesome au awesome author

↳ oisuga

Stuck in The Middle With You – multichap completed, the shit that made me ship this ship

all you have is your silence -- oneshot, college au

stratospheres -- oneshot, about spirits

≡ knb ≡

↳ gen

because this is a gem and i’m a caring friend ;3

Anticyclone – oneshot, really fun gom dynamic where kise’s flat ends up being everyone’s flat and important choices are made

Crossroads, and Other Places We Met – gen gom at its finest

Walk Through a Valley of Lilies – a series collection about post winter cup stuff, some of them contain shippy undertones but mostly gen

Standing Up – multi wip, timetravel, gen, kagami travels back to teikou days

Protective – oneshot, gom being protective of kuroko

↳ aoka

because he cares – aokaga, oneshot, this author writes nice aokas

burning concrete – aokaga, oneshot, LOVE how poetic this one is serious fav

Firefly Without a Light – aokaga, twoshot, aomine the dummy

Invincible – aokaga, multichap, touou kagami and aomine

Five Fingers; A Love Story – oneshot, aokaga

Softer than Before (All The Second Chances) – multi finished, aokagakuro if you’re into that

↳ aoki

Glad You Came – multi completed, aokise

Atmosphere (or, Casual Affair) – oneshot, aokise

Boyfriend Bluff – twoshot, aokise, fakepretend

moustachiopenguin is my fav aokise writer, her Just Breathe and One Day, He Says fics are my fav for the ship

≡ the raven cycle ≡

↳ pynch

Time Isn’t Real (but you’re a constant) -- multichap completed, time travel au, future!adam switches places with present!adam and he has a wedding ring on his finger

Just To Be Quiet -- multichap wip, one of those fandom favourites everyone will rec you, pynch having a psychic bond since childhood

Larger Than Life -- multichap completed, the first fandom favourite fic anyone will rec you, childhood friends au

Rootabaga Country -- multichap wip, the greatest magical realism fic ever, this author writes amazing world building fics

Son of the Nuclear A-Bomb -- multichap completed, amazing ronan-centric fic, a lot of ronan-niall history packed into it

This Isn’t a Heist -- oneshot, fake-pretend dating where ronan wants to piss off declan and ends up lying about dating adam and well…keep those eyes wide -- oneshot, matchmaker cabeswater demands that pynch gets on with it, it should be awkward but instead it’s so sweet!!

Worthy Of A Crush -- oneshot, everyone’s into adam who’s oblivious while ronan is clearly not

I Would Be Glad To Tell You and Walk Away -- oneshot, the very first trc fic i ever read and it’s still a fav

Hit Reset -- multichap wip, amnesia fic

Goodbye Highway -- multichap completed, amnesia fic, ronan forgets everything post niall-death so he doesn’t remember blue and adam

Six to Eight Months -- multichap completed, the raven king coda fic between chapter 67 and the epilogue

King by the Roadside -- multichap, ot5

What Stays and What Fades Away -- multichap completed, magical exes getting together again

Heart of Stone, Heart of Flesh -- multichap completed, amazing au where Adam is a veterinarian and Ronan dreamt up a whole menagerie of extinct/magical creatures

there’s an additional great reclist if you want more ot5 fics too

≡ the foxhole court ≡

↳ andreil

Lessons in Cartography -- multchap completed, probably the next best thing after the canon books, picks up right after the last book and runs with it

switchblade is my preferred weapon -- multichap completed, best raven!neil fic, a complete rewrite

Armies -- multichap completed, an au where the Hatfords took Neil in and away to Europe but he's still a prize for his dad and the Moriyamas and oh he still ends up meeting and loving Andrew

dangerous magics -- multichap completed, magical au

And We'll Be Running -- multichap completed, the band au where the Monsters are a band and andreil sings and writes songs together and fall in love

light fires at night (to push back the void) -- multichap completed, about andreil and i love yous

everything from Saul but especially her epic mermen/pirates/magic au series Fear No Fall

please tell me it's just the fandom freaking out -- aka the social media au where andreil has no chill for PR shit

right side of rock bottom -- oneshot, andreil learning to touch and trust

we might be hollow (but we're brave) -- multichap completed, neighbours au about healing

here's a mostly tumblr-posted reclist/compilation from back the time when the fandom was a lot smaller

an interesting tfc/trc crossover fic

my most fav crossover fic ever tfc/teen wolf

now i know i said i'd slap destiel recs onto this too but i feel like you'll be ready to drop the moment you see the length of this fic already, so what i'm gonna do is that i'll share my treasure box beautiful site that is destielfanfic which is like the best library for destiel fics, old/classics/fanfavorites/fresh titles/bangs EVERYTHING can be found on it! it has the most astounding tagging-searching system ever so it's easy to find everything your reader heart might wish for. if you still feel like asking for a proper reclist from me then feel free to come back and @ me anytime though! sorry for dropping this later than promised, i had to re-link my trc/pynch list because the links were dead on it + until now i haven't done a tfc reclist so that was from scratch. i hope you have fun with this, cheers!

13 notes · View notes

rureadytosingstories · 7 years

Text

To Be a Writer

Ten Years Later... AU (Set in the premise that Yahaba became a journalist and Watari became a doctor.)

“Long time no see!” Watari greets, but he casually sits down in front of Yahaba’s desk, crossing his legs like he owns the place.

“We literally met each other yesterday, because you couldn’t wait one day to tell me about your new boyfriend!” Yahaba complains, but smiles nostalgically.

“So, how are you and Kyoutani doing?”

“Okay.” Yahaba tries and fails to hide his blush.

“Just okay?” Watari raises his eyebrows.

“I’m supposed to be asking the questions today.”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be, but are you really?” Watari uncrosses his legs, leaning forward a bit.

Yahaba sighs, but doesn’t argue. He ignores his friend’s question and asks, “Why do you write stories?”

“I thought this was about my job as a doctor?” Watari mutters, looking slightly nervous. How the hell do you know I write?

Yahaba gives him the ‘just-answer-the-damn-question’ look and Watari hesitates before nodding and going into professional mode.

“First and foremost, it’s a way to let out stress. It can be really stressful juggling doctor duties, social life, and family affairs. It’s a way to stay grounded while simultaneously being able to let your mind drift. It provides you with an escape so you can keep living normally the rest of the time,” the doctor replies.

“When did you start writing stories?” Yahaba asks while scribbling down the answer to his first question.

Watari chuckles before answering, “I was cleaning up my room the other day and found a story I wrote when I was in elementary school. It was called “The Tiny Little Bug.”

“What was it about?” Yahaba asks, unable to hide the laughter in his voice.

“I’m the main character and I basically save the day by catching a little bug that’s pestering my family.”

Yahaba is unable to muffle a laugh behind his hand.

“Shut up.”

Yahaba avoids Watari’s half-hearted slap to his arm and continues, “If you could make the same amount of money for each, would you continue your job as a doctor or become an author and publish a book? “Become an author.” Watari answers without any hesitation.

“Really? Why?” Yahaba hides his surprise behind a raised eyebrow.

“I have so many original stories I want to publish, but I never have time to write them and they'd probably never sell. So if I was guaranteed enough money to live an average life and have time to write my stories, I'd be so happy,” Watari’s face blooms with a soft smile.

“But wasn’t becoming a doctor your dream job?” The journalist gives his friend a confused look.

“It was, and it still is. But writing as a hobby is also rewarding. It gives me a chance to view life from a different angle. And being a doctor is pretty stressful.”

Yahaba looks down at his list of questions, furrowing his brows. He crosses out a few before asking, “Why do you love writing so much?”

“Isn't it obvious? It's an escape from reality. It keeps me sane.”

“That doesn't make sense.” The interviewer whispers more to himself.

“I temporarily concentrate on characters in semi-fictional situations that are usually feeling or doing something that I'm currently going through. It helps to verify that I'm alive and when I receive feedback, it further encourages me that I'm needed and worthy of other’s time.”

“But how’s that different from being a doctor?”

“You don’t always get positive feedback as a doctor. Sadly, some of it is negative.” Watari’s eyes stray to the ground.

“Hmm, but then what about comments with hate in them? Or people who are not supportive of your hobbies?”

“I usually ignore them.”

“Then I’m going to ask again, but how’s that different from being a doctor?”

“As a writer, you can ignore hateful comments or unsupportive people. As a doctor, ignoring the negative feedback could potentially be dangerous. Being a doctor means you literally have people’s lives in your hands. You need to constantly know the condition of your patients, the people you work with, the patients’ families, etc. There are so many more factors you have to consider and it’s not the best place to try to ‘escape from reality’,” Watari answers with a grim expression.

“So writing is a way of expressing yourself?”

Watari nods.

“Interesting...”

The doctor tilts his head to the side questioningly.

“You mentioned something about writing original stories earlier, but I heard somewhere that you write fanfictions?” Yahaba swiftly changes the subject.

“Where’d you hear that from?!” The doctor’s nervousness returns.

“Um... I might have found your blog by accident?” He gives his friend an apologetic look.

Watari sighs. “I knew it would happen sooner or later...”

“So, why fanfiction?” Yahaba asks tentatively.

“Who would want to let up on a chance to write good stories when you had so much material right in front of you?” Watari wags his eyebrows suggestively.

Yahaba replies with an annoyed stare.

“What? I was just joking!”

“Just answer the question.”

“I can’t lie; I had a lot of good material to write about during high school because of you guys.” Watari grins at his friend’s nervous splutter but continues, “oh yeah, I started writing fanfics when I was in middle school I think? Anyways, fanfictions are the best stories to write when you’re short on time, or feel really attached to a character/fandom. I think there’s many reasons, but there are three main reasons for me. First, the characters are already developed, or easy to develop. All you have to do is mention a name or characteristic and the reader already has an image of the person down. You don’t need to spend extra time explaining the characters. Second, the setting also doesn’t need to be explained unless it’s in an alternate universe. But still, it’s pretty simple since the basic canonic storyline is understood by the reader. And lastly, I genuinely enjoy writing about the characters and fandom. There are many feelings behind a story that includes your favorite characters and it’s a great way to connect with other people who have the same interests.”

“Woah, you’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” Yahaba continues furiously scribbling on his notepad.

“I’m pretty sure every writer has?”

“I doubt it. A lot of writers just do it for fun and don’t think about it too deeply.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that.” Watari watches Yahaba stop his pen for a second. “Hey, isn’t typing much faster than writing?”

“Do you type up your stories or write them out?” Yahaba answers with a question.

“I... I usually write them out,” Watari mutters sheepishly.

“I’m sure the reasoning is the same as mine,” Yahaba comments, adding a few bullet points to his notes.

“You sure about that? Interviewing and writing stories are pretty different.”

“Then why do you prefer writing your stories out, even though you’re going to have to type them up later?” Yahaba’s annoyance leaks into his voice.

“I like editing my stories a lot. I write it out with pen or pencil, use a read pen to correct, maybe use a different colored pen to edit some more and then type it up.”

“Ew. That sounds like writing an essay.”

“Says the journalist.” Watari grins, taking a pen from Yahaba’s collection and spinning it between his fingers.

“I don’t write essays. I write articles.”

“Same difference?”

“What’s the difference between stories and essays then?”

Watari gives him an ‘are-you-seriously-being-serious-right-now?’ look, but Yahaba only smirks in reply. “Stories are usually fictional and based on the writer’s imagination. Essays are usually non-fiction and used to prove or explain a fact.”

“Thought so.”

“Hey, maybe you should’ve stuck with being a scientist instead of-”

“When did you start posting online?” Yahaba cuts his friend off with a warning glare.

Watari huffs, but seriously ponders over the question for a bit, his face contorting into a frown. “I was super hesitant at first. I was barely in high school and my mom was half-threatening me not to post online. I learned later that she thought I wasn’t going to post anonymously, so she was just looking out for me. Her words really got to me though, and I promised myself I wouldn’t post on major websites (AO3, fanfiction.net, etc) until I was 18. But I did make an anonymous account on a site that’s not very well known. It took me about a year to actually post something, so I think my first post was sometime during the end of freshman year.”

“It took that long?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what type of stories do you like to write?”

“Angst with a happy ending.” Watari answers with no hesitation.

“Angst?”

“Sad stories with reasonably happy endings. Hurt and comfort stories,” Watari attempts to explain. Yahaba continues to give him a confused look.

“I think only fanfiction writers and readers would understand.”

“Oh, about that, can you explain some of the fanfiction lingo to me?”

“Which ones?”

“What do ship, crackfic, OTP, OOC, and lemon mean?” Yahaba asks innocently.

Watari’s eyes widen at the last one, but he swiftly covers it with a chuckle. “Fans usually ship two people together as a pairing. A crackfic is a fanfic that’s really random and shouldn’t be taken too seriously. An OTP is a one true pair, or one of the fan’s favorite pairings. OOC means out of character. As for a lemon...” Watari trails off, cheeks reddening.

“Hey, you can’t stop there!” Yahaba is adamant in getting an answer.

“Why not?”

“I read a few summaries for the fanfics written about Ken- Kyoutani and I and some say ‘Warning: lemon.’”

“Did you check the rating?”

“The what?”

“Just don’t read any that say lemon. Or lime, for that matter.” Watari warns.

“What the hell does that mean?!”

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

“That’s not fair!!!” Yahaba pouts, glaring at his friend. Watari zips his lips shut, throwing the ‘key’ out the open door. “Ugh, whatever.”

“You out of questions yet?” Watari puts the pen down and picks up a piece of paper.

“Nope. What’s the hardest thing about writing fanfics?”

“Probably making sure the characters stay in character? And getting through writer's block can be pretty tough.” The writer starts folding the paper into different shapes.

“How do you get motivation to write?”

“I write better when I’m stressed. But I can’t write if I’m too tired, so a good balance is needed.”

Yahaba stays silent for a few seconds before asking, “How do you even write then?”

“Oh, that’s a secret.”

“You don’t even write that much, do you?”

“I can’t help being such a popular doctor~” Watari sings. Yahaba rolls his eyes, being used to his friend’s random childish outbursts.

“What’s your favorite thing about writing?”

“Have I mentioned stress relief before?” Watari throws his paper plane across the room, snickering when it turns and hits Yahaba on the back of the head.

“Have I asked you how you were even able to become a doctor before?” Yahaba growls, before realizing his over-reaction and hiding his annoyance. Damn it, Kentarou’s rubbing off on me!

Watari grins. “I usually leave a hidden message in my stories by speaking through the characters.”

“Speaking through the characters?”

“Yeah. I honestly suck at talking about myself. So it's much easier to make the characters experience what I'm going through and have them speak my thoughts.” Watari peels a square post it off of Yahaba’s desk, folding it into a triangle. He frowns when the corners don’t match. A few seconds of silence follow before Watari looks up to meet Yahaba’s confused stare.

“For example, if I wanted to convey that I feel uncomfortable when people talk about my stories in front of other people, then I'd write a story where the main character accidentally reveals a secret to their friend. The main character makes their friend promise not to tell anyone. But said friend occasionally slips up and the main character gets increasingly stressed about it until they just shut down whenever that topic comes up,” Watari clarifies.

“Isn't that a little too vague?”

“I told you; before anything, the reason why I write is to relieve stress. It's not always to convey a message. Sure, it'd be nice if people understood how I felt and changed because of it, but it's enough for me to vent and get out what I need to.

And in no way am I saying I don't care about my readers' thoughts. I do care. I probably care a lot more than I should, because I try not to write based off of what the reader's want, but sometimes it naturally becomes like that. That's why I stopped posting on the first site I posted stories on. I felt like I was writing what the readers wanted and not what I wanted to write. Of course, writing stories goes both ways. But it needs to be balanced. If the writer feels stressed about writing a certain way, there's no point in writing. Writing should be fun, not stressful.”

“Okay, I think you’ve stressed the part about stress enough.”

“Oh my, Yahaba, was that a pun?”

“Pun? What the hell?!”

“How long is this mock interview? I thought this was supposed to be practice for your first one-on-one interview with that new actress tomorrow? And wasn’t it supposed to be about my job as a doctor?” Watari complains, ignoring his interviewer.

“I wanted to know more about how you became a writer. You were really secretive about it, so I naturally wanted to know more and...”

“Don’t tell me...” Watari covers his face with his hands. “You’ve read my stories on my blog?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. Shit, Yahaba, I’m supposed to be anonymous!”

“You know, this interview would make a great first article for-”

“This goes against the law of patients’ privacy!”

“Dude, I’m a journalist, not a doctor.”

“Shigeru.” His friend’s tone makes said journalist meet eyes with the doctor. You better not to tell anyone. Yahaba is unable to turn away from the raw desperation in Watari’s eyes.

“I was just joking.” I would never betray you.

Watari’s eyes soften and release Yahaba from their spell.

“But why are you so secretive about it?” Yahaba asks, genuinely curious.

“It’s not something you’d brag about. And the stories I write wouldn’t really be accepted by the majority of the public.”

“I think you should be proud of it. But I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to,” Yahaba promises.

“Thanks bro.”

“Anytime.”

A comfortable silence sweeps over the room, before Yahaba mutters, “One last question.”

“Yeah?”

“How much of your stories is based on real life?” Despite Yahaba’s promise of not writing an article based off of their interview, he still has his pen ready to take notes.

“Maybe 20 percent or less? I try not to base too many of my stories on real life so that no one will figure out who I am. My goal was to stay completely anonymous, but you already know how that turned out...”

“It was kind of obvious though?” the interviewer finally puts down his notepad and pen, leaning back in his chair.

“Shoot.” Watari’s face blooms into a strawberry when he remembers a particular fanfic that he wrote not too long ago.

“I’m pretty sure most of the Seijou team knew.”

“Shit.”

“You okay Watari? You’re looking like a character from one of your lovely fanfictions,” Yahaba teases, sticking out his tongue.

“You sound like one of my salty ass characters who doesn’t realize he’s in love with his rival until his best friend spells it out for him,” Watari counters, grinning triumphantly at Yahaba’s red ears. Hmmm, is he angry or just embarrassed?

“Fuck off.”

He’s totally embarrassed. “Woah, Yahaba, I think your boyfriend isn’t a good influence on you.” Watari continues to banter.

It’s Yahaba’s turn to bloom into a strawberry. But instead of covering his face, he lunges towards his friend, trying to smack him across the chest.

“Oh my gosh, Yahaba, you’re just proving me more right!!!” Watari chuckles, avoiding each attack. However, the journalist is able to catch Watari’s arm and promptly proceeds to poke him in the ribs.

A high-pitched squeak comes out of the doctor. He pokes him again, this time a little harder. “Ahaha, Yahaba, that feels funny!”

Fingers dig into his sides, and both men are unable to hold in their crescendoing giggles. Loud peals of laughter echo through the door and across the hallway of the usually quiet magazine company.

“Yahaba, you better not be flirting with your boyfriend again!” A loud shout interrupts their laughter.

Yahaba’s face blooms again and Watari continues snickering quietly.

I know what my next fanfiction is going to be about.

#Aged Up AU #Watari Shinji #Yahaba Shigeru #HQ #implied KyouHaba #Writer!Watari #Doctor!Watari #Journalist!Yahaba

4 notes · View notes