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sorryimanon · 4 years

Text

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Parings: Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, characters are in their third year.

Word Count: 5.4K

The two honor students of UA so happen to be childhood enemies. During the succession that is exams, Y/N is determined to beat Bakugou.

Exam season has commenced on the campus of U.A. Students woke up in a frenzied state, slightly nervous to the late night studying they’ll endure for the weeks to come. Not enough caffeine can energize them to be in complete motivation mode. A couple of students have taken the leisure of paying those to exchange notes, considering most of the questions will be going over every little detail in each subject. The exams don’t begin till next week, but a few of the honor students have already hit the books, not once indulging in a break or two till the sun sets. One of those students just so happen to be you, an inspiring young hero with the hunger for being on top of everything. Ever since middle school, teachers would constantly praise you on your performance during tests. It was no surprise to anyone when you aced the entrance exam to U.A, a remarkable score leading you closer to reaching your dream. Although your scores on every test was superb, someone else would occasionally steal the spotlight with by topping your score. That person in particular has been tailing behind you ever since middle school, another honor student who also attends U.A as well. Did you mention he also is in the same hero course as you?

Katsuki Bakugou is his name. A name that burns the tip of your tongue whenever you gave roll call alongside Iida. The man is a ball of pure fury. He exuded nothing but anger and hostility whenever he’s in a room. Despite his aggressive exterior, Katsuki is an avid academic student who manages to score excellent grades in each of his classes. For the past 3 years of attending U.A, you two are considered the star studded scholars, never once failing a test, midterm, pop quiz , you name it! Now with your hero course almost coming to an end, you were determined to at least score the highest result this exam season, leaving Bakugou in the dust with his inadequate score. Maybe have him crying in the corner would suffice the drawn out rivalry you two established. No one verbally said it was an all out war between you two, but everytime those test results are posted on the board, everyone steered clear for the both of you to silently react. Everyone awaits for the day when one of you finally snaps and start clawing at each other. But alas, only the mere exchange of a side eye and a curt nod. Deep down you do want to slap the smirk that always resides on his face during those moments, showing him you weren’t just going to let him win by smarts.

That’s why now you sit alone on the cushioned couch in the commons area, books sprawled around you like a protective barrier. You had your eyes glued to a textbook about the history of quirks and their physiology, a class in which you needed to spend studying the most for. It’s been a a few hours into your little study session, and you were beginning to feel the drag of how much you needed to actually work on. All this including your current homework and your mandatory internship studies at an agency. It was all too much to handle. So, maybe you do deserve a break.

Pushing the book aside, you stretched out your cramped up arms and sigh in relief. In the corner of your eye you spot a familiar head of ashy blonde walking into the commons room, books and notebooks crammed into his armpit while holding what seems to be an energy drink. Your eye twitched watching him plop down onto the couch across from you, never once paying attention to your presence. Katsuki then rests his bare feet on the wooden coffee table, opening one of his textbooks with the swipe of his thump. For some odd reason, this really riled you up. And it was clear Katsuki noticed too.

“Am I bothering you? Hm?” He smugly asked, eyes not wavering from the text before him.

You scoffed.

“No. Just, don’t speak while I’m trying to study okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re studying to me. Looks like you’ve given up already. What gives?”

His comment made you even angrier.

“Given up? Kacchan, you’ve barely started.”

Looking up, you can see a faint vein forming against the temple of his forehead. His fists clenched tightly, crumpling the sides of the textbook. His eyes now were averted to yours. The crimson death glare, you’d call it.

“I was training with Kirishima, dumbass. So of course I couldn’t hop onto my studies earlier,” he started. Katsuki opens his energy drink with one finger, the pop of the air leaving the can satisfying to your ears, and took a swing of it. “Also, don’t ever fucking call me that. If I hear it from your mouth again I won’t hesitate to use my quirk on you.”

An intriguing idea. Usually you’d be the one to threaten your enemy, but Katsuki like always beat you to the punch.

“No thanks, I’d rather be harassed by grape juice than be blasted from the likes of you,” the taunt in your voice triggered something within Katsuki, causing him to tense up in pure anger. “Besides, I’m planning on studying all day till my eyes fall out. So don’t expect me to leave this spot.”

His smirk was soon on full display, uncrossing his legs to lean forward so he can rest his elbow on his knee.

“Oh really? Just so you know we have an early training tomorrow in preparation for our final exam. Wouldn’t want ya to, cha know, fail?” He didn’t even sound slightly concern for yourself and your future study habits, you can tell he wishes for you to fuck up your sleeping schedule to miss the important training in the morning.

“I have an alarm set on my phone so I don’t miss my beauty rest. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of kicking your ass tomorrow,” you held your mobile device triumphantly, waving it back and forth to mock him.

With the roll of his eyes, Katsuki returned back to his studies, leaving you to sadly resume as well. Before he entered the commons area, you were about to head into your dorm room to take a nap, but now you were obligated to stay put without letting him think you’re already burnt out.

Silently, you both continued on with the unspoken competition.

Evening struck quicker than you expected, cascading the soft glow of the painted sky through the windows, illuminating both you Katsuki in a pink hue. Thankfully, Katsuki took your words into consideration and never spoke to you during the session, giving you an easy feeling of relaxation without him making it another competition.

Already you finished your notes for advance foreign language, quirk physiology, and mathematics. So far, you were ahead of everyone else, with the exception of Katsuki. Occasionally, you’d catch yourself glancing over at him working intensively in his small corner, highlighting and jotting down every minuscule detail in his notebook. This was your first time witnessing how Katsuki studies. To your disappointment, his regime was nothing out of the ordinary. Then how the fuck does he manage to score high grades? It simply baffled you.

A stampede of footsteps was to be heard coming from the hallway leading to the commons area. After what seems to be years, you cranked your head away from your notebook to see Kirishima and the rest of the gang marching towards the direction of both you and Katsuki, who was currently shooting daggers at the group of friends. The red head was the first to speak out of the four of them.

“Aye Bakubro! Wanna skip the studying for a little and eat with us at NoodleShop?” His smile gleamed brightly, showcasing his shark incisors.

“Y/N you too! Come join us. I’ll pay!” Mina chimed in.

Noodles sounded pretty appetizing right about now. You skipped out on lunch, too engrossed on the idea of getting a head start for the exams. Now you regret the decision of leaving your stomach on empty.

But you still had so much left to do. And knowing Katsuki’s competitive nature, he wasn’t going to move an inch from his spot.

“It’s okay Mina, I uh- already ate a big meal awhile ago,” you dismissed her, patting your belly to show you were indeed, full.

As if on cue, a loud growl erupted from the depths of your stomach, the noise reverberating across the soundless space. Denki and Sero both snickered.

To your amazement, Katsuki got up from the couch and trailed over to the group, slipping on his red hoodie that was draped on the arm rest. He took a quick glimpse at you and smirked over his shoulder.

“Watch my things for me will ya, extra?” And with that they all left the area as a group.

You huffed in defeat and stared back at your jumbled pile of notes, the writing transcending from neat to sloppy text. At least you don’t have an explosive blonde sharing the same air as you for now. You reached into your bag and grabbed another textbook, this one being more heftier than the others.

“Oh well, more time for studying...” you said to yourself as you skimmed through the pages of Hero First Aid: Volume 6.

The beautiful spring sky soon was replaced by the expanse of darkness, the twinkle of the bright stars catching your eyes. The moon alone helped cast a sheen of light, allowing you to work in the dimly lit up space. Bakugou didn’t return to retrieve his stuff, all of which were sat untouched in a hasty mess. You figure him and the rest of the gang would have been back on campus by now, but everyone in class 1-A have locked themselves in their dorms since lights out will commence in a few. Aizawa has yet to prohibit you from staying past the curfew. As long as you don’t go running among the halls like a lunatic and stay strictly to studying, he’s all game. And that’s exactly what you did.

A couple of students murmured as they passed by you, saying things like “Does she ever have a life” or “All she does is study...no wonder no one has asked her out yet”. As much as the comments sting, you knew they weren’t true to your heart. Last year, someone in class 2-B formally asked you to the dance. To their dismay, you rejected them on the spot. Only because you didn’t have time to date or talk romantically with anyone. It’s a distraction to both your education and future career.

Okay, so maybe they were partially correct. At least you had your first kiss before entering U.A? But the person who stole your kiss was obligated to do so, after being dared by their fellow acquaintances. Nothing more beyond that have you explored with another person.

Submerged in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the presence of the angry blonde, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he strolled to the couch that had all his materials. He began to gather his things when suddenly he freezes, remembering what you said about not moving an inch from your spot. He’s astonished to see you cemented on the same couch, in the same position, notes blanketing your thighs along with the pile books pooling at the edge.

You really are determined to beat him, he thought. Bakugou can’t deny he’s impressed with your ambition and drive to be the best among your peers, even if that means sacrificing basic human needs. Like food and sleep.

Although, looking at you right now in this state, with your eyes threatening to close shut, mouth slightly agape, and hair bunched up in a tight knot, it’s clear you were exhausted. He spoke without realizing it.

“Hey dumbass! The fuck you still doing here, huh? It’s almost lights out.”

His brooding voice startled you awake, causing the papers on your lap to spill on the carpeted floor. Bakugou coughed out a low chuckle, amused by how the mere sound of his voice scares you.

“Oh it’s just you,” you said, disregarding how that could easily irritate him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Anyway you should be getting rest. You’re smart enough to know that, idiot.”

Even though it was a subtle backhanded compliment, you couldn’t help but to appreciate him acknowledging your intellect.

“I can’t. I have to go over my flash cards for mathematics and then finish this week’s homework for tomorrow—.”

“Holy fucking shit shut up. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself right now?” When you didn’t answer, Bakugou slapped his forehead. “You’re gonna burn yourself out dumbass! Then you won’t have any motivation left to study for when the exams are actually starting.”

Stunned, you watch as Bakugou stomps over to where you’re sitting at, crimson eyes never leaving yours. He then props his leg on the cushion next to your trembling thighs, out stretching his arm to grab ahold of something. Too focused on the proximity between you two, it didn’t register that he swiped your flash cards from your hands. What is wrong with him? Does he want to sabotage you this badly before exams?

“Bakugou! Give those back! I need them for my exam on Monday!” you ignored how whiny you sounded, not wanting to give Katsuki the satisfaction he thinks he deserves.

“You really think whining like a bitch will make me hand these over? Think again, dumb-.”

You cut him off with a surprise attack, shoving his entire body to the ground with the force of yours. Bakugou’s arms were pinned above him as you tried to pry the flash cards from his death grip on them. Stubbornly, he wiggles his body to keep you from reaching his arms, almost knocking you off his torso like a bull. Looking down, both of you were in a compromising position. Straddling his hips while he laid lifelessly underneath you, panting like a feral dog. You tried to keep the heat from spreading throughout your body as you felt his groin rub against your sex, but failed tremendously when he can obviously see the prominent blush creeping on your cheeks.

“What the fuck was that all about?! Why are you so adamant about beating me so much!” He yelled directly in your face.

A question that neither of you knew the answer to. Why were you so determined to destroy Bakugou? Shouldn’t a fellow honor student be happy that another is also making their education a main priority? Or maybe there is another underlying reason, something deeper under the dermis of your skin that you couldn’t quite reach.

You further the distance away from his face by leaning backwards, eventually hitting the front of his thighs and kneecaps.

“You don’t understand. I have to be good at everything. I need this in order to be the hero I’ve been wanting to be. Even if that means neglecting my own needs...” you paused, unsure if Bakugou was even listening anymore. “That is, until you came along and ruined everything.”

“Hah?!” His reaction was incredulous.

“Don’t “Hah” me! It’s been your plan all along since middle school to top me at everything. So why me?!”

“Well maybe it’s because I’ve always looked up to you dumbass! Have you ever considered that!”

The words tumbled out of his throat as if he’s been holding off on the sentiment. Bakugou Katsuki, the abrasive yet studious boy, just so happens to admire you? Never it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you also strived to be the absolute best solely because of him. The way he strides into a battle with confidence, not an ounce of doubt that he’ll lose. His diabolical strategies that somehow works out in the end. Or the way how underneath that rough exterior, he believes he’ll be the one left climbing to the top, along with his peers. It’s his sticky pride that kept the rivalry between you two so alive. But was it really a rivalry after all this time?

Eyes widen at the confession, you stay frozen on his lap, fingers bunching up the top half of his hoodie. The silence broke Katsuki. For once, he wanted you to at least admit it, that you were also in the same boat as he is right now. So, he hesitantly reaches out and rests his palm against your flushed face, basking in at your sudden reaction to him touching you.

“Why does everything have to be a competition between us?” His soft spoken voice was uncharacteristic for him, you were so used to his gravelly tone after years of being the victim to it.

You felt the traces of his warm finger tips tickling lines on your outer cheek, as if he’s done this before.

“Isn’t that our dynamic? Competitive enemies?” The comment made him quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Enemies? You were never one in my eyes in the first place...” He trailed off, getting distracted by how close you’ve gotten to his face. To his lips.

“Then, what am I to you?” you leaned in closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You took notice that his pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker than usual. The hand rubbing lines on your cheek snaked around behind your head, taking full comfort on the base of your neck. The feeling was quite foreign to you. How long you yearned till days on end for someone to touch you tenderly like this. Especially from someone like Katsuki Bakugou.

“Does this answer your question.” Was all he said before smashing his lips to mount yours, the sudden contact making you shiver in his arms.

You felt him breathe out in surprise against your mouth when you took the initiative by swiping your tongue on his bottom lip. The kiss was exquisitely slow and intense. So intense that Bakugou forgot where he even was at the moment, too engulfed at the texture of your tongue asking for entrance. The fingers digging into the back of your neck started to hurt, but you didn’t mind the pain, the pleasure overwhelming all your senses. You can hear the harsh undertones of his breathing every time you slightly moved the lower half of your body.

“Stop moving, idiot,” he said breathlessly.

He knew he was fucked by seeing the smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh, you mean like this?” You then grind your hips in a harsh motion, relishing in the bashful look on Katsuki’s face.

He let his hands go freely, attaching themselves on both sides of your hips, grounding you to stop altogether. He sat in an upright position, encasing you between his legs and hard chest, your legs wrapping around his torso. Any other time it’d be comforting, but right now you felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

“Who knew the good girl would be so disobedient? Kind of hot not gonna lie.” He bent his head to where it was directly hovering over the sensitive spot on your collarbone. “Even when we’re just making out, you have to make everything a goddamn competition huh?”

A gasp left your throat once his tongue licked a clean strip on the surface. He chuckled, loving the feeling of you squirming in his muscular arms and continued the attack on your skin. His feather-like kisses switched to full on feverish sucking and biting. He proceeded to suck on the area, letting go with a definite ‘pop’, then returned back by making out on the bruised skin.

The combination of his tongue, the death grip on your hip, and the bulge protruding from his loose sweatpants was too much stimulation already. Before you knew it, Katsuki abruptly stood up from the floor, along with you, and placed you back on the plush couch. Your legs were wide open, giving him a good view of your white panties beneath the school skirt. You clamped your legs together after seeing the blonde lick his lips at the sight.

“D-Don’t be such a pervert,” you squeaked out.

That didn’t stop him from slipping his hand in between the crack of your legs, spreading them wider than before.

“Stop lying to yourself. You’ve imagined me between these thighs haven’t you?” The silence following his question was enough to suffice him. “Such a naughty girl.” Those crimson eyes stared straight ahead as he tugged your panties down a notch.

Here?! Right now? Why couldn’t he reside both of you in his dorm? It was literally at the end of the hallway. Plus, the thought of your teacher, Aizawa, catching you would be mortifying.

Your hand quickly latched itself around Katsuki’s forearm, halting him from proceeding his lustrous actions.

“What are you doing?! We could get caught you idiot!”

Katsuki grins and says, “You’re right. We need to find a way to shut you up.” Without preamble, he practically ripped the thin panties with sheer ferocity, causing you to yelp. You were about to scold him for ruining your favorite pair when said panties got shoved into your open mouth. “Remember, don’t want to get us caught right? Now be the good girl like you are and stay quiet for me.” Obediently you nodded at his order and prayed that whatever he’s going to do to you won’t be too much.

Katsuki hummed, obviously pleased at how well you’re going along with this. He wonders how far you’ll go till you break. With the swipe of his tongue, Katsuki dragged it up and down on the opening of your drenched sex. You mewled at the new sensation, legs already trembling as he his own salvia covered your folds. He bit and nibbled on the sweet spot, the clit, and lapped a few lazy strokes with his pointer finger in circular motions. Before you could stop him, he inserted the lubricant finger into your hole slowly, pumping it a couple of times to get you loosened up. Muffled moans perked up the ears of Katsuki. Looking up, he saw the beautiful sight of your eyes rolled behind your head along with the familiar tint of red on your cheeks. Just like the secretive slut you truly are, you swayed your hips to create more friction. Katsuki acknowledged your needy movements and dipped his head between your legs again, returning back to kissing your sex open mouthed. The lewd noises of him sucking on your wetness elicited a long drawn out moan from you, making Katsuki’s own cock twitch at the glorious sound.

“You’re so fucking cute like this. Almost coming from just my tongue and fingers. Fucking slut,” he said between suctions. “God, what were we thinking...we could’ve just resolved our issues like this every time.”

You grabbed a handful of his spiked up hair and raised his head away from your lower region. While doing so, you spit out the soaked clothed panty from your mouth, letting it drift off to the floor.

“Just s-shut up and do something about m-me,” you manage to croak out. You flicked your eyes on Katsuki and to the hand buried inside your skirt.

“Ah, want more than just my fingers? Could’ve just said so. Why are you being so quiet with your needy demands, babe?”

This newfound nickname plucked a heart sting within you. You shook off his snarky comment and stood up from the couch. If it’s a competition he wants, then it’s a competition he’ll get.

“Take off your pants and sit on the couch.”

Craning his head back, his own roar of a laughter bounced across the quiet room. Laughter dying down, his expression changed seeing how serious you actually were.

“Tch. Whatever you say dumbass. Don’t want you to explode on me now.”

He did as you said and removed the article of clothing, leaving him in nothing but his red boxer briefs. The bulge grew bigger the longer you stared at it. He laid back on the plush cushion and rested his arms behind his head.

“Alright, I’m waiting Y/N,” he taunted you.

One by one, you unbutton your school uniform and let it fall off your shoulders, along with your plaid skirt pooling at your ankles. Arms crossed on your chest you tower over Katsuki, who was surprisingly not staring at your goods, but your eyes. Beckoning you forward with his glare, you straddle him immediately, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

My, all these years of being in the same class and never once did you take advantage of appreciating how chiseled he looked in his hero costume. Sometimes you’d glance his way or pretend to be busy, but really, you wanted to see him in action. The way how his muscles would contract with each swing or punch. It was enough to make a girl swoon. Now you were swooning for sure. On his lap to be precise.

“Oi, you gonna do something nerd? My cock isn’t going to finish off itself.” His voice snapped you back to reality.

It took a few minutes, but you were finally hovering over the tip of his throbbing member, the glistening of his pre-cum coating your fingers. You teased him by rubbing just the tip against your entrance, lubricating the member even more. He tried to muffle his whines, but failed tremendously after feeling his tip graze your sex. Both of you were heavily now, anticipation radiating off of your sweaty bodies. Tenderly, you kissed him open mouth while sheathing yourself on his cock.

“Holy shit, holy fuck fuck fuck,” the vulgar words spilled from his mouth against yours as you bottomed out. You stayed in that position. Still unsure what to do and what you got yourself into. Pretty sure you’re torturing Katsuki by the minute.

“F-Fucking move," He growled in your ear.

Leaning in closer you whisper, “You have to beg for it then.” You nibbled the loose skin on the bottom of his ear and tugged it gently.

“Hell no! God-fucking-damnit don’t make this a competition right now Y/N.” The palm of his abnormally large hand pushed your face away from his. You giggled.

“C’mon Bakugou, there’s no harm in it. Just say please?”

“Fuck you shitty woman...”

“That’s not begging,” you pouted.

He pursed his lips. Bakugou admittedly is getting more turned on by the minute, and not just because you were practically inside him.

“P-Please fucking move. I w-want you to fuck me so bad you have no idea. Please Y/N...”

Smiling, you raised your hips to where the veins on the side of his member scraped the walls within you. It made your cunt twitch in pure ecstasy. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down, only this time you weren’t stagnant. You repeated the same vertical movements, clashing your hips with his. Bakugou titled his head back on the couch, degrading sentiments leaving his mouth as his hands grasped the sweaty flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly every time you bounced on his dick. The tip of his member taking your breath away as it prodded the spongy walls.

“Yes- oh fuck yes. Ngh, keep doing that. Yeah like that. Hah-fuck, don’t stop,” he said between the constant panting.

Due to your rapid bouncing, your boobs were flailing in the air, occasionally hitting Bakugou in the face. Katsuki took matters into his own hands and latched his mouth around one of your perked nipples. You squealed at the sudden sensation.

“B-Bakugou...don’t do that...it’ll make me come faster,” you moaned as he grazed his teeth on your taut nipple.

For revenge, he tugged back the areola till it reached a few centimeters from your chest. Painful yes, but you couldn’t deny it felt amazing. He quickly let go and returned to sucking on the tit, lathering it up with his own spit. All the while you were riding him till the muscles and tendons in your legs gave out. Steadying your hands on his shoulders, you grounded on your knees to give yourself a better leverage. Feeling touch starved, Bakugou shoved your hands from his shoulders and laced his fingers between them. Like a missing puzzle piece, you fit in perfectly with him. Everything about you was perfection. You defined it. Sitting here watching as you take him well, physically or not, he was completely enamored by the mere sight of you. He craned his head to brush just the tip of your nose. A nose he unmistakably mentally captured because he loved the feature so much.

Although, he couldn’t think straight after that once you bottomed out again and rolled your hips in tune to his panting. You made a mess out of the aggressive blonde. Each time you swayed your body to the side he’d grunt out a low moan, trying to contain his usual loud profanities from waking up your classmates. Bakugou reached down and teasingly rubbed the sensitive bud, getting revenge for all the times you’ve pissed him off. Under your breath, you moaned out his last name.

“Say my name,” he grunted, hands continuing to expertly work on you from below.

Confused, you obeyed and moaned, “Bakugou!”

Suddenly, a painful sting sparked throughout your lower back. Eyes glued shut due to the searing pain, you whimper feeling a calloused hand smooth over the spot on your ass.

Katsuki spanked you. And you liked it.

“My actual name, dumbass. I wanna hear it coming from your mouth.”

With a thrust, you continue moving up and down on his cock, never once missing a beat.

“K-...Katsuki. Katsuki-Katsuki...” his name sounded ethereal, as if he was a higher being.

Katsuki returned the favor and fisted your hair in a tight knot, your scalp screaming at how harsh he was pulling.

“That’s a good girl.”

With a playful slap to your behind, Katsuki roughly shoves you to mount his lips again. Lips parted, both of your tongues twisted against each other, sharing a decent amount of saliva. He slipped out and pecked your lips a few times before biting down on your bottom lip. It didn’t hurt like all the times he inflicted pain on you previously. But this time you swore you felt the trickle of blood trailing down to your chin. The coppery taste infiltrating your taste buds only increased your arousal. What a masochist.

Bakugou noticed the pacing of your movements decreasing, indicating you are already feeling worn out, and steadied his hands onto your hips.

“Just let me do the work here, dumbass,” he said as he thrusted sharply into your womb, causing you to whimper into his neck. “I’ll take good care of you. You deserve a break from studying after all.”

You woke up feeling dizzy and fatigued, body aching from your toes to your head. From what you can remember, you were in the middle of studying when...

Katsuki happened.

Then you realized you weren’t in the commons area anymore. Somehow, you were laying in a medium sized bed, covers strewn over your naked body, along with a muscular arm draped across your torso. To your side you can see a passed out Katsuki snoring quietly into his pillow. Even when he’s asleep, he still looks angry.

Jolting upright, you carefully pry his arm from your body. No prevail. He’s got a strong hold on you.

He shuffled in his sleep and tightened his grip around you.

“Mmm...not leaving...stay a little longer,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “We both can’t walk out of your dorm in the morning. People will get suspicious of us. Not to mention Aizawa,” you retorted back.

“Oh? Don’t like the idea of ‘us’ huh? That’s not what you said last night.”

You didn’t need to look to know he was wearing his infamous shit eating smirk.

“Shut up.”

For the first time you heard Katsuki genuinely laugh without forcing it. You looked over and saw his eyes wide open now, staring at nothing but you.

“Whatever, you love me Y/N.”

“I DO NOT!”

Grabbing your face with his rough hands, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Go to fucking sleep nerd, we have a pre-exam in a few hours.”

(You can obviously tell I got lazy at the end LMFAO. This has been in my drafts for a LONG time. Also, this isn’t edited so please excuse the horrendous text that is this post. Xoxo)

#bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou

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junkworldusa · 3 years

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belated book asks, thank you for indulging me!

1- What book are you currently reading? bros karamazov, 2/3s through atm.

i hate that i’m thinking about pathologic (video game) the entire time but i can't help it. the way characters are constantly bursting into people's houses & going "you’re an angel, you're the best person i've ever met, you're a saint" to someone they just met 5 minutes ago is so. distinct. i joked on twitter that the first half of the book is just alyosha running around completing sidequests, which i still think is true, but once i got to the grand inquisitor part i was like "Okay mr dostoevsky, you’ve got me."

2- What book did you recently finish? "selections from science & sanity" by alfred korzybski, recently featured in the gumby quotes. a while back i listened to a 6 hour long interview with robert anton wilson where he talks about korzybski & general semantics so i gave it a shot. it's an abridged version of a 900 page book & i definitely plan on reading the full work at some point, it's wild. if you’re interested in language, consciousness, the gap between words & meaning, and/or hacking your brain i would recommend it. he repeats himself a lot but that's a side effect of his pedagogy, the goal of which is the eventual re-wiring of your entire nervous system in order to achieve a more rational worldview/healthier reactions to things. (so repetition via words/sounds/actions is necessary 2 engage the organism-as-a-whole.) the most important takeaway for me is that everything & everyone you interact with is a completely unique object, and this necessarily extends to temporality-- Bob in 1999 is NOT the same person as Bob in 2010, and treating them as though they were is a harmful mistake. interestingly enough, im taking a class with J.F. martel (weird studies podcast, author of "reclaiming art in the age of artifice") & last night he said what amounts to exactly the same thing, except he was arguing for like, a soft animism (i-thou vs. i- it) & korzybski was arguing for a more "rational" & secular world. so fascinating.

3- What’s a book that’s been on your to-read list for a long time? ulysses. i know. i know. i have a copy but keep bouncing off of it. idk why, i liked portrait of the artist as a young man. i think i’m worried i’ll turn into this person:

4- What’s the next book you’re hoping to read? i just got "speech play: research & resources for the study of linguistic creativity" in the mail so probably that. i'm on a childlore kick rn & this is like... horizontally related 5- Is there a book you own, but aren’t planning on reading?

around 2 years ago i was walking home after a show high on E & i ran into a guy i had met at work a couple times. went over to his apartment because MDMA is like, "everything is SO meaningful and SO much fun." i barely remember our conversation but he ended up being like "you would like this book, here take it, i have 3 copies." so i now own a copy of "the eater of darkness" by robert m coates. i still haven't read it. the moral of this story is [???]

6- What was your favorite series as a kid? Would you still read it now? so many of you asked this question :P

THE TRUTH: i was obsessed with lotr from age 8 to 13 with a level of dedication that i've never known since. yes, i would still read it now. i reread the silmarillion last year & it was naturally a way more rewarding experience than when i was a kid! 8- Fantasy or sci-fi? i like & have read a lot of older sf/f (le guin asimov pkd etc etc) but im not actively into either nowadays. i read whatever reaches me from the queer sf/f twitter pipeline (like whatever's on wizards vs lesbians) but otherwise dont pay much attention. so the answer is "idk!!!”

12- Have you ever read a celebrity memoir? If so, whose was it? the only memoir i've read in recent years has been "memories, dreams, reflections" so if jung counts as a celebrity, there you go 14- Fiction or non-fiction? non-fiction in both quantity of books owned & what i prefer reading. i almost view them as 2 separate activities bc the motivation for & experience of reading them are so wildly different 15- Favorite fiction genre? i know i said im not "actively into" sci fi but 16- Favorite non-fiction genre? "philosophy" i guess. i also really love any phenomenological/experience-based studies of paranormal stuff, like "the terror that comes in the night" by david hufford or anything by jacques vallée. basically books that both a) take strange experiences seriously & b) examine/catalogue them scientifically (to whatever degree).

22- How do you organize your books? “poorly” 26- What’s your favorite book? fav non-fiction book: “time loops” by eric wargo. what if freud's career-making "irma dream" was a premonitory dream about the oral cancer that would severely impede his quality of life in his old age? (fantastic blog entry by the author, serves as a kind of intro to this topic: http://thenightshirt.com/?p=4326 )

when i read “time loops” it felt like everything i had ever read (& will ever read future tense) was for the sole purpose of understanding it. “time loops” picks up where J.W. dunne's 1927 "an experiment with time" left off. i won't say too much more about it but everyone should read it. it's so smart & engaging & will totally blow your miiiind, maaaan speaking of "an experiment with time," in 1964 a guy named vladimir nabokov began an experiment of his own following the directions dunne laid out in his book. dunne encouraged readers to write down their dreams in order to test the theory that a later event could generate an earlier dream.

nabokov’s experiment with dreams & time strongly influenced “ada or ardor: a family chronicle” which happens to be my favorite novel. i first read it when i was 18, and i've reread it 3 times since then (with the help of ada online, my beloved http://www.ada.auckland.ac.nz/ ) i would not recommend this book to anyone who doesn’t already like nabokov & know what he’s about. it’s fucked up & self indulgent & i love it so much

30- What character do you connect with the most? when jung said he was bad at math? i felt that

#asks

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lillian-nator · 4 years

Note

You want more shit? I can go all day (except for school and sleep, hm) but one day techno realises just how much trouble Tommy is getting into by hanging out with Dream and challenges him to a fight, that's how the dream and Techno duel comes about, techno wins and Dream is just like "Well, what did you want me to do?" and Techno goes "stop influencing boys younger than you or ill break your kneecaps next" - 💙

Oh shit - oh shit - oh shit

Man, Blue, you are really the mvp.

I feel as though we can understand eachother - I also need to sleep and have school in the morning lol.

Anyways, I would love to continue throwing ideas back and forth with you :)

Here it is [the scene]:

[So, for this scenario to happen, I imagine that Techno has to not know of the “Tommy being high off his ass” incident at first.

So, I picture for either Techno to sleep through Tommy’s lecture - or the more likely case (and the one I am going to write here) Tommy didn’t leave his room for the entire day after he got caught.]

When Tommy still hadn’t come out of his room at noon, Wilbur and Phil thought that Tommy was simply trying to evade punishment, but when they went to go check on him, he was still asleep. Like not even pretending to be asleep, like he was clearly out of it - and Wilbur, and Phil weren’t monsters, they would let him sleep as long as he needed.

They assumed that he would need a lot after only getting to bed at 4am, high as fuck, as well.

Tommy ended up sleeping until 6pm that Saturday (the weed incident happened on a Friday night). He only got up to puke in the bathroom and lay back down in his bed.

Techno, who had been gone for most of the day, came back and assumed Tommy was coming down with something. He went into his room, closed the door and din’t come out. Look - he loved his brother, he really did, but midterms were coming up, and he didn’t want to get sick. Besides, Wilbur being the sap he was, would totally be taking care of Tommy all day, if he was sick. He loved Wilbur really, but he could never had what him and Tommy had, Wilbur being the closest with the youngest, was over-protective at times, and a tad bit jealous of Dream, but he was a great brother really, and he was totally Tommy’s favorite, no doubt about that. He means, the two were stuck to the hip when Tommy was younger, and even now, sometimes it was like they were the same person.

So, Wilbur had been in fact taking care of Tommy. Sure, he was pissed out of his mind that his fucking 15-year-old brother came back home high as a kite, but he still cared about Tommy. Probably too much for either of their goods.

As soon as Wilbur heard Tommy get out of bed, he had been prepared to go upstairs, but when he heard Tommy vomit - he stopped. He wasn’t sure if he should help the boy or not. He knows that Tommy must have a killer headache, and probably stomachache from smoking weed on an empty stomach. So, he wasn’t sure whether or not he should let Tommy live the consequences of his actions - or if he should help ease his little brother’s pain.

Look, we’ve already discussed that Wilbur cared about Tommy too much for their own goods. SO, of course Wilbur fucking helped him.

When Wilbur got up to Tommy’s room, man was he not expecting to see Tommy in as much of a mess he was. He was still in his clothes from the night before, SapNap’s jacket hanging loosely around his arms, the multitude of blankets pulled up to his chin. There was sweat dripping down his forehead, and he looked green.

Taking a better look at him, Wilbur knew that it wasn’t the weed that made Tommy throw up - the kid had actually gotten sick from being outside without a jacket.

Wilbur was ready to throw hands with a member of the Dteam.

Anyways, the fact that Tommy was sick delayed the conversation a few days, and when it did happen - that Tuesday at 2 P.M, right after Tommy got home from school - Techno was still at the School studying for midterms.

Techno still didn’t know what was going on - but he noticed the subtle differences.

Tommy had to keep his door open when he had friends over, even with Purpled and Tubbo, practically two members of their family. Wilbur locked Tommy’s window, and when it was hot outside, Tommy had to ask Wilbur to open it. The air was tense. Techno felt like he was always walking on eggshells, and he felt as though he could physically see Tommy walk on eggshells. Tommy had started sitting with Wilbur and his friends at lunch. Tubbo obviously stayed with Tommy - really, Techno could see how glad the small boy was to spend time with his brother - but Purpled switched between Dream’s table, and Wilbur’s table almost everyday.

Tommy having to keep his door open only lasted a week and a half; Tommy was too loud, and the only kids coming over were Purpled and Tubbo (Phil completed trusted them). The window stayed shut though, and Tommy was not allowed to sit with Dream for the foreseeable future.

It was 3 weeks into Tommy’s new-found punishment when Techno had to ask Phil what was going on.

Techno sighed, “Phil, seriously, what has been up with Tommy lately. Did I miss something?”

Oh.” He had a look of confusion on his face. “Did Wilbur not tell you?”

“Did Wilbur not tell me what?” Techno scoffed, Phil could have not been more vague.

“Well, Wilbur caught Tommy come home high a couple weeks ago.” Phil threaded his hand through his short hair, he wasn't sure how Techno was gonna react.

Techno didn’t know how to react. His brother? Tommy? High? “Wait - but he was grounded a couple weeks ago?”

“I caught him sneaking back in. If Wilbur hadn’t woken up, I would’ve never known that he was high. He was good at hiding it.”

“Uh...” If Techno knew one thing, it’s that you aren’t good at hiding the fact that you are tripping balls the first time you get high. “Do you think that he had done it before?”

“I’m not sure. He said that he hadn’t. Wilbur believed him, but Wilbur would beleive anything that boy tells him. I have to trust him on it though.”

Techno mumbled, “That fucker.” And walked out.

Techno wasn’t thrilled bu the fact that his 15-year-old brother had been smoking weed.

Of course he wasn’t, it was his baby brother. Tommy was never supposed to do any of that crap. But, if Techno knew Wilbur and Phil well enough, he knew that he was getting enough punishment as it is. So he laid off him, even if Techno knew that Tommy had smoked at least one other time, he assumed he wouldn’t do it again - that part was right, however what Techno did not anticipate was to catch Tommy sneaking out again, or rather in.

It was late at night, the night before Techno’s last midterm. He wasn’t always the best at Physics. So he just decided to go over a few more equations.

Sure, it was almost 4 am, but Techno never slept anyways.

So, his head is in his hands just looking down at his Physics test book when he hears the clicks of the door being unlocked, and the kitchen being directly across the the house from the door - Techno had a crystal clear view of his brother attempting to sneak back in, from where he was at the counter.

“Hey.” Tommy stops in his tracks.

Tommy walks over to Techno, sits directly across from him at the counter, putting his keys on the table. Tommy sighs loudly.

“I will tell you anything. Please just don’t tell Wilbur and Phil.”

Techno, who actually really just wanted to know what was up with his brother, decided that he would take the deal. “Sure. You have to answer my questions though.”

Tommy let out an audible sigh. “Okay, deal. What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the obvious.” He clapped his hands together. “Are you high?”

“No.” straightforward. Techno continued, “Are you drunk - did you drink?” “No.” Techno squinted his eyes, “Are you lying?”

“Do you need a fucking sobriety test? I’m not under the fucking influence.” Tommy gritted his teeth.

“Hey.” He was used to Tommy’s attitude, so he’s not sure why the hostility caught him off guard. “I’m doing you a fucking favor - I don’t need the attitude.” He smacked the blonde on the back of the head. In the process, he took a beanie off of Tommy’s head. Upon closer inspection, Techno realized that the beanie was not Wilbur’s. It was Quackity’s.

Techno started again, “Who were you out with?”

“The gang.” Tommy deadpanned.

“Who the fuck is the gang?” He was starting to get really pissed off at Tommy’s vague answers.

“I don’t know!” Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Last night it was Quackity, Karl, Tubbo, and -”

Techno sighed, “Dream.”

“Don’t cut me off. I’m giving you the fucking answers.”

“Don’t forget you’re the one in trouble here.” Techno closed his Physics book. This was gonna be a long night. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Dream asked if I wanted to meet them at the bridge, and I did. So, I went.”

“Even though you knew that you are not allowed?” Techno asked skeptically.

“That’s kind of the fucking point of sneaking out.” Tommy turned to go into his room. Techno grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Just tell me one thing, before you storm up into your room.” Tummy hummed in agreement. “How many times have you smoked weed?”

Tommy groaned; “Really? You’re still on this?”

“Just answer the damn question Tommy.” Techno growled back.

Tommy sighed, exasperated, throwing his hands in the air - also successfully freeing himself from Techno's grip. “I don’t know! 3 or 4 times - I mean it when I say, I won’t do it again.”

“I beleive you.” And he really did, although his little brother may have been sneaking around behind his back, he knew him. And Techno knew that Tommy sounded sincere. “But, you also lied about never doing it before. You also smoked weed. Here we are.”

“Whatever.” Tommy mumbled, pushing past Technoblade and stormed up to his room. What he didn’t realize is that he left his phone on the table.

Tommy’s phone buzzed - loud enough for Techno to hear it through his thoughts.

Techno shyly picked it up - look, he really didn’t want to invade Tommy’s privacy. He knew that no matter what Tommy did, he had a right to privacy away from his brothers, but, Techno couldn’t help but be curious to which of the assholes of the month was texting his brother.

It’s a text from Dream.

Dream: You dropped your student I.D. You wanna pick it up tmr night? Karl and SapNap found an abandoned mall a town over. They wanna check it out. You in - Purpled and Punz already said they were game?

Techno was about to beat the shit out of that green fucking bastard.

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

The next morning, nobody knew why Techno was waling down the hall with such determination.

But nobody stood in his fucking way.

As soon as he got to Dream’s locker, he saw the bastard. Standing there talking to SapNap like nothing happened last night.

Techno slammed Dream’s locker door shut, earning a wince from the tall blonde.

“What the hell dude?” Dream snarled, annoyed, and fucking too tired to deal with anyone’s shit.

“’What the hell dude?’“ Techno mocked. “Why the fuck are you helping my little brother sneak out?”

“Because he asked me too! It’s not my fault he wanted to hang out, and I’m not taking the blame for something he did.” Dream was tired of getting involved with Tommy’s brothers. He loved the kid really, but his brothers were a lot to handle.

“Tubbo, too! We both know he’s grounded.” Techno mused, hands raised to the ceiling.

Dream, swore he was never gonna get a break from this guy. "Tubbo asked too! I'm not gonna take responsibilities for their actions!"

"Then stop fucking inviting them." Techno growled.

"Look. If they want to sneak out - I'm not, not, gonna tell them when we are hanging out."

"Just stop fucking inviting them - then none of this would ever be your problem. You got it? Stop fucking around with my brothers." Techno stepped closer, pointing a finger in Dream's chest.

Dream looked at the pink-haired boy with a knowing look. He said 'brothers' - okay. So, Techno was talking about all 3 of the teens.

He dropped his head, he really didn't want to get into a fight right now, "Look, I'm sorry okay? I can promise you I won't give any of them alcohol. I can promise I won't let Tommy take a hit of Quack's joint. But, I can't promise I won't stop hanging out with them."

Techno laughed, "You don't understand do you? The point is that you let him do it in the first place."

"Do you really want to do this, right now?" At this point students had gathered around the pair. "You want to fucking fight?"

"If that will make you shut up and leave my fucking life; yeah."

Dream threw the first punch.

There isn't much to say about the fight. Techno won - but barely. Both came out with bloody noses, split knuckles, bruised ribs, bleeding lips, and tired arms.

Techno broke Dream's nose.

It was a good fight.

Most of the student body watched, 'oohing' everytime a punch was thrown. At some point, Tommy had seen the fight go down, and Karl had to hold the blonde back, from breaking up the fight himself.

"Alright," Dream admitted on the floor, tired beyond relief. "What do you want?"

Techno seethed, "I want you to stay the fuck away from my brothers." and walked away.

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

Later, after school, when Tommy walked in on Calvin helping Techno clean himself up in the bathroom, Tommy brushed past Techno, bumping into his shoulder.

"Hey -" Techno grunted in pain.

"Good fucking luck explaining this to Phil. I'm going to Tubbo's. I won't see you later." Tommy growled, and continued walking.

#tommyinnit #wilbursoot #philza #technoblade #dream #dreamwastaken #quackity #karl jacobs #tubbo #purpled #punz #georgenotfound #sapnap #2270 words for you #hahah #k #Of Younger Brothers and Longer Nights #ybln au

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halloweenhoneylover · 4 years

Text

the closing shift

summary: coffeeshop au babey!! spencer and reader are nerds in love who also work at the campus cafe together (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: this one’s for u, anon!!! sorry if this is lame, i normally don’t like coffeeshop au’s but here we are. also a warning: there is a lot of doctor who junk in here and also it’s incredibly self-indulgent but i don’t care :)

“So what you’re saying is you don’t like the power of love and human goodness?”

Spluttering frustratedly, Spencer frowned at you, “Of course, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that the special effects were cheesy and the plot was sometimes a little silly!”

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before relenting with a sigh, focusing back on the counter you were wiping down. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit that the Slitheen really did not look good, and that maybe ‘Love and Monsters’ was one of the stupidest episodes of television I’ve ever watched, but you have to admit that Ten’s monologue in ‘The Satan Pit’ was one of the best pieces of writing in the whole show. ‘If I believe in one thing, I believe in her?’ How were you not screaming at your TV when you watched that!”

Spencer lips curled into a small smile as you continued rambling and absent-mindedly cleaning the counter. You were not doing a very good job, but he wasn’t about to stop your spiel. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of a ramble, and as someone who was frequently told to shut up, he would never interrupt, especially when it was about his favorite show. Especially when it was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. No, he’d sit quietly and listen, thank you very much.

“Okay,” she brought her full attention back to Spencer. “I’ll forgive you for your horrible offence. If you take back what you said.”

She looked so intently in his eyes, so sincerely his knees wobbled a little. The full force of her attention was like the sun. He felt warm inside and out, but he might be burned from the intensity of its direct glare.

“Fine, season two of Doctor Who is not a complete abomination.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. “Well, thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate the kind words.”

He nodded, turning to the back room. He’d almost made it through the doorway before he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “But season eight is better.”

A melodramatic gasp, and he felt a rag hit the back of his head, and he chuckled.

“You take that back, Spencer Reid!”

Making his way further in, his fingers found the knot behind his back, quickly untying and shrugging off the apron. “(Y/N), I only speak the truth. I’m a man of science, and science says that season eight is simply superior.”

You laughed along with him, murmuring grievances against this idiot genius. You reached behind yourself, fingers fumbling with the knot. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, you huffed and asked, “Hey, Spencer, do you think you could help me with my apron? I tied the stupid thing too tightly.”

He gulped, mumbling a sure thing in a way he hoped was nonchalant, but knowing himself, was anything but. Walking up behind you, he felt himself involuntarily shudder at your proximity, and he said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in to try to keep his cool. You felt his fingers brush against your lower back, and you tried, gosh, you tried so hard to not audibly gasp (you’re not sure you succeeded). The brief contact unfortunately flooded your mind with thoughts about his long fingers that you had often admired (discreetly), and you thought about what it’d be like for him to touch you and for him to mean it, and you nearly passed out. The silence was deafening, which was funny because it seemed like you two could never shut up around each other, and the one time you needed to fill the tense air with something, there was nothing.

Finally finished with the knot, Spencer softly tapped your back twice with his index. “All done.” It came out as a whisper. He couldn’t have managed more.

“Thanks!” You spoke at normal volume and tried to put you back into regular conversation, but breaking the eerie quiet, it sounded like you were shouting.

He shot you a tight-lipped smile. “Are you all good to close up?”

“Yeah, I can hold down the fort,” you said rather breathlessly, returning his smile.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he pushed open the back door and waved. “See you Thursday!”

“See ya.”

As soon as the door shut, you heaved a sigh of relief and let the tension out of your shoulders, staring at the ground. You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes. Why did you freeze up like that? Why was it weird when he left? Why did you like him so much?

———

Thursday was Spencer’s favorite day of the week. The dining hall stocked chocolate donuts with rainbow sprinkles on Thursdays. He had his chemistry seminar with his favorite professor on Thursdays. Caltech’s chess club met on Thursdays. He worked his shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.

(You worked the same shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.)

Did Spencer really need a job? No, his education was entirely paid for by the school because when you have a child prodigy on your hands, you should try to keep them. And he lived in on-campus housing and ate on campus, and he didn’t have a lot of other expenses. But his advisor told him that he might get something out of doing a job that didn’t require 100% of his brain power, might get to rest his mind for a couple hours every week. He might also make a friend.

What he had not anticipated when he started at one of the various campus cafes was meeting you. He showed up to his first shift and nearly choked when he saw arguably the most beautiful girl he had ever met in the backroom putting on an apron. Your eyes lit up when you saw him. “Hey, you must be Spencer! I saw our names together on the schedule a couple times, looks like we’re gonna be work buddies!”

By the time you turned back to speak to your guys’ new manager, he noticed his jaw was completely slack, and he hoped his mouth had not been hanging too long. He also blacked out too long to ask for your name, which he was internally hitting himself over. And he hazily drifted through the training, his mind barely focusing on the coffee. To say he was distracted by the girl next to him and the way she smelled like coconuts and cotton was a major understatement. Times like these were humbling for a twenty-year-old with two and a half PhDs.

He could barely recall anything that happened until they were cleaning out the espresso machine together silently, and he was struck with a sudden need. “Hey, I never caught your name…”

“Right! My name is (Y/N),” she answered, offering him a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Neither spoke after that, both working quietly next to each other. Spencer sighed internally, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he hoped they wouldn’t spend the semester in silence. And like some higher power was listening to his wishes, you turned to him, “So, Spencer, what are you majoring in?”

Hesitant to scare you off, he tiptoed around the subject. “Right now, I’m studying chemistry.”

“Right now?”

He glanced over at you, and despite knowing you for the entirety of ten minutes, he couldn’t deny you or the inquisitive gleam in your eye even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. “I’m working on my PhD in chemistry. I already have two in mathematics and engineering. Oh, and I have two BA’s in psychology and sociology.” He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the dumbfounded look on your face, and he swallowed harshly. “Um, uh—what uh, what are you studying?”

You let out a brief laugh, and for a moment, he cringed, wondering if you were laughing at him. But just a look at you and the tenderness of your features, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Blowing a puff of air out, you grinned gently, “Well, your PhD’s are putting my bachelor’s to shame, so I’m not sure I want to say.”

“No, I’m sure whatever you’re studying is cool,” he reassured you.

Pleasantly surprised by the humility of your new genius coworker, you continued, “I appreciate it. I tend to err on the side of the humanities, not much of a STEM gal myself, and right now,” you both chuckled at your little joke, “I’m studying history and political science.”

“So am I standing in the presence of a future lawyer, or maybe the next president of the United States?”

“Good question, but I’m not sure. Would you vote for me?”

Squinting at you for a moment, he nodded slowly, “Yeah, I think I would. You’ve got a kind face.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, trying to suppress a blush. “A kind face?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, eyes flicking over your face. You felt shy under his gaze; it’s not everyday a hot genius boy stares you down and tells you you have a ‘kind face.’

Ducking your head, you fought a smile. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

And from then on, something clicked. You and Spencer talked for hours and hours during your shifts, joking and teasing (and grinning and blushing). He looked forward to working because that meant a chance to see you. (Except for Mondays, that was the one shift you didn’t have together, and it made Spencer want to scream. The dude he worked with, Andy, was nice enough, but the hours seemed to drag on when he didn’t have you to discuss weird sci-fi movies with.)

He was particularly looking forward to this Thursday because he knew you had a big presentation in your class about African revolution, and he wanted to hear all about it. In the brief moments of spare time at the cafe, he had helped you prepare and had listened to bits and pieces of it. This morning he’d sent you a quick good luck! text, to which you’d responded with thanks!!! and a stream of various heart emojis. He had learned early on that you were very fond of emojis, but it never stopped his heart from skipping a beat when you’d send him little hearts and smileys.

Entering the back room, he set his backpack on a hook and started to get ready for his shift. He gave a quick wave to the people from the last shift as they left, and he felt a little worry boiling in his gut because if they had left, that meant you were late, and you were never late. He wondered if something had happened in your presentation, and he was filled with dread. Solitarily manning the counter, he was ensnared in his thoughts; he couldn’t stand the idea of something going wrong and you being upset, so upset that you couldn’t come to work. He shifted uncomfortably, hand itching to grab his phone and send you a text to see if you were okay when he heard a door slam and a shriek from the backroom. “Spencer!”

Immediately, he ran to the back, expecting the worst, and he nearly fell over when you ran at him full-speed to launch into a hug. “Oof—” He recovered though, catching you, and he wrapped his arms around you so tightly and cradled the back of your head in his hand. His heart stuttered. He could get used to this.

You buried your face into his neck. “Oh, Spencer, you won’t believe it. My presentation went so well! My professor held me after class and told me I was one of his brightest students, and oh, I just don’t believe it!” He felt your face warm against him as you gushed.

“I believe it, I don’t doubt it for a second. You are so smart, (Y/N). I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”

Breathing him in for just a moment longer, you finally released him, and both of you thought how everything feels a little emptier now that you weren’t holding each other. He couldn’t help but beam at you, though.

“Really, (Y/N), I’m so proud of you.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit! It’s all thanks to you being patient enough to hear me blabber on and practice, so thank you, Dr. Reid.”

He got incredibly flustered at the title and hesitated over his next words before settling on a soft anytime. And he meant it.

———

The rest of your shift that day was less eventful. You recounted some of the highlights of your presentation, to which Spencer listened with rapture. There was some discussion of who was at chess club today and if anyone there was a true match for Spencer (no one was). You played your favorite game called “Who Can Make the Most Disgusting Drink Out of Four Ingredients?” (You won with a mixture of coffee, coffee grounds, an excessive amount of salt, and raspberry syrup. (Ew, (Y/N) why is it grainy?)) And now nearing midnight, you sat at one end of the bar reading your textbook while Spencer cleaned up various mugs and napkins. He snagged the broom from the backroom and began sweeping. With a quick glance up at you focused entirely on your book, he smiled softly. Pieces of your hair had drifted out from behind your ears and framed your face, and the apples of your cheeks were flushed. To put it simply, you looked ethereal, and Spencer didn’t think it should be possible for someone to look so beautiful at the end of a long day, but here you were, always defying expectations. He thought you looked like someone from those Renaissance paintings you loved so dearly, but he knew that even if someone tried to commit your grace to canvas, it’d be to no avail. He was sure no one would be able to do you justice.

Looking down at the floor he was supposed to be sweeping, he let his thoughts wander farther. He thought about what it would be like to hold you everyday like he did today. He’d be the luckiest man on Earth, that’s what. For so long he thought about asking you out, but then he knew that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. But then again, you were the impossible girl. You never did quite what he expected. And he never expected you to be into him. So maybe for once in his life, he’d go out on a limb and ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with him sometime. He’d take you to the Indian place on 12th that he knew you loved, and you’d sit in the oddly formal, always empty restaurant and laugh and giggle together because that’s what you always did together, and then maybe, he’d invite you back to his place, so you could watch Doctor Who, or maybe do other things (like hold hands), who knows?

He found himself praying to that god he didn’t believe in once again to find the courage as he finished up sweeping, and after he put the broom away, he walked up to you with butterflies running rampant in his stomach, so he could barely muster a glance at you. But he was going to finally do it.

“(Y/N), I —”

And that’s when he noticed that you had fallen asleep on your book. It had been a long day for you. He felt his heart grow tender and soft and if someone poked it, it very well might explode. His thoughts strayed to your conversation the other day and the quote you loved so much. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her. He takes a step or two closer, and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with the gentlest hand, he thinks, yeah. I believe in her.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #do people read things at 2 in the morning?#lets hope so!#bc that's the only time i write :)#my sleep schedule is not :) good :)

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 3 years

Note

TUA AU, this time for season 2 Tommy and Sam!

So. Tommy just got yeeted into the future after having a rather fiery breakdown. That happened.

And he doesn't remember much. He doesn't know where he is, how he got there, or why he feels so alone, like there's somebody - multiple sombodies - who should be here but aren't and it's freaking him out. All he remembers is burning, everything burning, before somebody else is there, telling him everything is going to be okay. He doesn't know who they are, but he thinks it was someone he loved.

(He also remembers a man in green and a mask that makes his breath go shaky, but not exactly why.)

And then you've got Sam. Sam, who lives alone with his dog Fran, is probably driving home after work, when he sees this kid on the side of the road, no adult in sight, nothing but his clothes on his back, probably homeless or a runaway, looks about two seconds away from a panic attack, and- well, what is Sam supposed to do? Just leave him there?

So he goes up to the kid, who nearly jumps out his skin, and after about two minutes of conversation it becomes clear that oh yeah, this kid is definitely not okay. Sam manages to catch his name, before his concern skyrockets as Tommy promptly collapses into his arms because he's had a long fucking day, alright?

Well. It's good thing Sam has that guest room he never uses.

So he brings Tommy home, waits for him to wake up, asks him some questions over breakfast, like where are your parents? What happened to you? Do you have anywhere to go? It's when Tommy gives a quiet no or I don't know that Sam promptly decides "okay, you're staying with me"

It's rough going for the first few weeks. Tommy isn't about to dash out the door like he first did when he woke up, but he doesn't exactly trust Sam either. Meanwhile Sam may not know about the superpowers, or the apocalypse or time travel, but he does manage to gather that this kid must have been through some serious shit. And a lot of his reactions and comments point towards having a not-so-good caregiver in the past, so he does his best to be patient, understanding, give Tommy his space and make sure he knows he doesn't owe Sam anything.

Things slowly get better. Tommy gets acquainted with Fran, who is good at calming him down when Sam can't, especially after nightmares. As the weeks go on, more and more of Tommy's memories trickle in, and Sam helps him deal with that. Tommy tells him he thinks he did some bad things in the past, and Sam tells him he doesn't think Tommy is a bad person, and that it's what he does now that matters, not the past.

A couple of weeks turn into a couple of months, and things are good. Tommy smiles more easily, trusts more easily, is less tense and wary, and Sam will admit that it's nice to have such a vibrant presence in the previously empty house. Maybe Tommy tentatively starts to experiment with his powers in private, getting better control, learning exactly what he can do. Maybe he even remembers that he had a family, that maybe they're out there somewhere. Things are good.

Except one day, things are not so good. Tommy's walking home from doing some errands, when he gets held up by this weird cat-like guy, who keeps asking him questions and is in general getting way too close for comfort. Tommy manages to lose him, and brushes it off. Guy was probably just a conman, or high, or a really creepy salesman. Then he gets home, and Sam is worried, tells him that earlier two guys came by - white hoodie and a guy who refuses to swear - asking a bunch of questions, trying to invite themselves in, and most concerning - they were asking for Tommy specifically.

That is... unnerving, but not necessarily cause for alarm. What harm could they really do? Then next day, the guys come by again, and they're a lot more persistent, keep trying to convince Tommy to come with them, that they can help him, they can bring him to his fanily, and Sam is really not liking the vibe he gets from these guys, and long story short a scuffle breaks out. Tommy uses his powers to scare the guys off, but not before Sam gets injured. Not majorly, but still.

Sam is understandably spooked, especially as it slowly dawns on him he might have bitten off more than he can chew- but no, he's not going to leave Tommy, he promised, he can't. They go to a hotel to stay the night, just in case.

Tommy, meanwhile, is spiraling hard. Because there are people after him, who apparently know about him and what he can do, about his family, and he may not know exactly what they want but it can't be anything good. And they're coming after him, after Sam, and Sam got hurt, Sam got hurt trying to protect him, Sam got hurt because of him, just like everyone else-

Tommy refuses to let people get hurt because of him anymore.

So, quietly in the middle of the night, he writes a note, telling Sam he's sorry, he shouldn't have to deal with, with Tommy, he shouldn't have to get hurt because there are more people out there who want to use Tommy's powers, that it's not his job to protect him. He tells Sam thank you, for everything, for the past few months that have been the best his life, that he doesn't know how to repay him and he'll never forget, and he tells Sam not to look for him, to stay away, for his safety and Tommy's peace of mind. He tells Sam goodbye, then he quietly slips outside, jumps on bus or a train, and walks away from the only stable caregiver he's had in years.

Sam wakes up, reads the note, and promptly decides fuck that, Tommy is a kid, he's Sam's kid, and Sam will be damned before he lets him be alone, because he made a promise to keep Tommy safe and he is damn well going to keep it. So him and Fran jump in the car, and set off for the nearest town.

(And maybe while he's there, he meets a blonde man who also seems to be worried about his kids, so...

Sam: Hey, have you seen a tall, skittish blonde teenager? Curses a lot, about 6' 1", kind of a smart-ass?

Phil:

Phil: Tell me everything you know right now.)

Meanwhile, Tommy is walking down the street of some unknown city, oblivious to the pink-haired vigilante that does a double take when he sees him, disbelief all across his face.

It’s found family your honor. It’s Sam and Tommy bonding and becoming a family and oh god that’s giving me so many feelings and then Tommy leaves because he thinks he’s a danger to Sam and oh man. This hurts.

On the bright side though, we have everything coming together and we have the plot just slowly converge together and that’s great.

#dream smp #dream smp au #the umbrella academy au #tommyinnit #awesamdude #ask #long post #zero-gravity-zero-chill

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

No One Has to Know

Pairing: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Since there isn’t a lot of angel Reyes x black reader imagines going on here I was wondering if u can write a request for me that. You and angel are in a secret relationship because y’all are ten years apart and your mom( who’s mayor) finds out?? Requested by @briannab1234

Warnings: None for this part

A/N: This was going one way and then it went another, but I hope you all enjoy!

It was a hot ass day in Santo Padre, so it was no surprise that Adrian’s raspa shop was full. Today you were accompanied with your fake group of friends (except for Bryce) aka the group of friends your mom approved of.

When your pickle raspa with chamoy and lucas was finished, you searched for an empty table, only for you to find the one table you didn’t want to sit at because of who sat next to it. The Mayans. Or more specifically Angel Reyes, your secret boyfriend. The argument from last night replayed in your head as you stared at the table.

“Why not?” You yelled, throwing down your bag.

“Because its not smart Y/N.” Angel stared at you through a cloud of cigarette smoke while you paced back and forth.

Sitting in his lap you took his cigarette and put it out. Cradling his face, you kissed him. “What’s stupid about wanting my boyfriend to be my date at my graduation party?”

Angel scrubbed his face in frustration. This argument between the two of you was becoming more frequent. You wanted to make your relationship public, but he didn’t. He didn’t want everyone else to confirm what he already thought. He didn’t want them to say he was a low life and no good for the mayor’s daughter or that he was too old for you (his 34 to your 24).

“Listen, querida we can go public another time. Just take that loser Rob and make sure he keeps his hands to himself.” Angel kissed the top of your head to end the argument.

You hit him in the chest and pushed off him. “Fuck you, Angel! If you just want me to be your little fucktoy and not your girlfriend just say so.” Before he could stop you, you were already out the door. Once again, his insecurities fucked him over.

“Hey, yo, Y/N over here!” Coco’s voice pulled you out of your head. He was pointing to the table next to him. No way you could pretend that you didn’t see the table now.

Starting your way over there Eileen grabbed your wrist to stop you. “How about we just eat them to go?” Her green eyes wide with fear.

You broke out of what she thought was an iron grip. “Its over 100 degrees outside. Trust me they won’t bite, unless,” you leaned in closer to her and dropped your voice lower. “you want them to.”

Leaving Eileen in all her white woman shock, Bryce followed you to the empty table. Both of you greeted the men at the table besides you. You barely gave any energy to Angel while Bryce gave Gilly all her attention due to her crush on him.

Eventually, your friends joined you, still wary of the Mayans. Rob sat next to you and wrapped his arm behind your seat. Angel wanted to break that arm in half.

This midday delight was less enjoyable than you wanted it to be. It was tense and not just because you weren’t talking to Angel. Your friends made it a point to ignore your Mayan friends and while the Mayans did their best to make your snotty friends uncomfortable by making the most vulgar jokes (which were hilarious by the way).

Most of the time, Bryce and you talked to the Mayans. They were by far better conversationalists. Plus, you and Coco had a lot to talk about since you were Letty’s mentor at school.

In the middle of listening to EZ tell an embarrassing story about Angel, Rob saw Angel staring at you a little too long. So, slightly he tilted your chin towards him and kissed you.

You scrambled to end the kiss. In no way shape or form you led Rob to believe you were in a relationship. Even though he was your escort to the party, you explicitly told him that y’all were going nowhere.

When the kiss ended, Angel was nowhere to be found. A great part of you wanted to dump the raspa on Rob, but you didn’t want to make a mess in Adrian’s place. Instead you punched him in the face and left the shop with a bunch of cackling Mayans and Bryce.

It didn’t take you long to find Angel. He was a couple of blocks away at his dad’s carniceria. “Angel, I-”

He held his hand up to stop you. Flicking his cigarette down, he stomped it out. “Done with your ivy league boyfriend?”

“Don’t do that. I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me.”

Stepping down from the stoop, Angel got somewhat eye level with you. “You definitely let him kiss you longer than necessary.”

A black escalade rolled up, revealing up, revealing your mom behind the window. “Y/N, dear we need to get ready for the party.”

“Hi, Ms. Mayor.” Angel waved at your mom and in return she gave him a curt nod.

Patting you on your arm, Angel gave you his congratulations and returned to his father’s shop.

Once inside the car, the tirade started. ‘What did I tell you about those Mayans? Have your fun with them in private not in public.’ ‘Stay away from that Reyes boy. I don’t like how he looks at you.’ ‘You could’ve at least been hanging out with the smart one.’ ‘You should be focused on your career and Rob.’

Every line you heard before and just like every other time you were ignoring each word. Her nor Angel was going to ruin this relationship.

“I don’t know, Pops. Maybe I should wait til she gets home, and we can celebrate together. Just the two of us.”

Felipe fixed his son’s tie. “Nonsense, Angel. You’re going to your girlfriend’s graduation party. She wants you there, son.”

“What if I embarrass her?”

“You won’t,” EZ quietly entered the room, dressed up as well. “We’ll make sure of it.”

“We?”

EZ pulled back the curtains to reveal the Mayans all in suits on their bikes. “We got your back, bro.”

Angel squeezed his brother into a tight hug. “Thanks, mano.”

“Let’s go get your girl.” EZ clapped Angel on his back.

This had to be the most extra party ever, but extra was your mom’s middle name. All you wanted was a simple bbq, good music, drinks, and your friends. But nope this turned into an extravaganza and networking opportunity for your mom.

“You can’t be here!” You heard your mother’s voice despite her trying to keep her voice down.

Your eyes followed her voice and the sight you saw left you breathless. Angel in a dark striped suit strutting towards you with the rest of the mc in suits as well, trailing behind him.

“What are they doing here?” Rob asked with a mix of fear and disgust. He was truly a horrible person; you didn’t know how you put up with him for so long.

“He came,” you happily whispered. You shoved your champagne flute in Rob’s hands not caring that it was spilling on him. Your only goal was to get to Angel.

The dress you were wearing didn’t allow you to jump Angel like you wanted to. He could see the conflict on your face, so instead he twirled you around to fully admire the way the dress clung to your body and how it brightened the aura around you.

After your 360 turn, Angel twirled you inside his arms, grabbed the sides of your face and leaned down to kiss you. “You look beautiful, querida.” He whispered against your lips, his hand running up and down your leg exposed by the hip high slit.

“Not as good as you,” You bit your lip at the sight of Angel in a suit. His jet-black hair perfectly gelled back, his suit clinging to his body.

“Impossible. Now introduce everyone to your boyfriend.” The slap to your ass didn’t bothered you, in fact you laughed it off and began introducing Angel as the love of your life. The shocked gasps of the stuck-up residents of Santo Padre as you made the introductions did not go unnoticed by you, but you also didn’t give one flying fuck.

On the other side of the room you could not hear the most objected protest of them all. “Get him off my daughter!” The mayor ordered the president of the Mayans.

“No can do, Izzie,” Bishop smirked. Whenever he could he’d like to stick it to the mayor.

“Its Isadora,” she corrected him. “I will not allow my daughter make the same mistakes I did.”

The holier than thou act was grinding Bishop’s gears. There was a time when the mayor wasn’t a stuck-up bitch. “Watch it, Ms. Mayor. If it wasn’t for my fucked up feelings for you, I’d shoot you where you stand.”

“Obispo, please.” Her tone softer, reminiscent of the times she writhed under him. “She has a future. She has a future outside of Santo Padre. Don’t let my daughter-”

“Our daughter.” It was his turn to correct her.

Isadora sputtered. There was only one other person she told the truth to and that because she was caught, and he promised to never to tell anybody. “How did- how did you know?”

“I always suspected, but you kept her in LA with her ‘dad’ most of the time, so I couldn’t confirm until she kept popping up at the club. Easy enough to get DNA for a test.”

In all her being, Isadora wanted to slap the man. “You had no right.”

“And you had no right to keep her from me!” Bishop was upset at all the missed opportunities. You were a lovely young woman and he missed out on the chance to watch you grow up, but now he refused to stay away from you anymore.

Your yelling tore the two away. The unexpected guest getting all the attention now.

“Daddy!” Your arms encircled around the older man. His appearance was a welcomed surprise.

When he got done spinning you around, you introduced him to Angel. The three of you engaging in an animated conversation.

Isadora and Bishop watched off in the corner. Isadora in shock and Bishop in jealously.

“Tell her or I will.” Bishop threatened his old flame before he left heartbroken from seeing his daughter call another man dad.

A/N 2: Were yall ready for that surprise?

Tags: @angrythingstarlight @starrynite7114 @briannab1234 @chaneajoyyy @titty-teetee @thickemadame @brownsugarcoffy @ifoundmyhappythought @marvelmaree @browngirldominion

#black!reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #Mayans MC #mayans fandom #mayans fanfic #mayans mc fanfic #angel reyes fanfic #frizzlefic #frizzlewrites

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jalapeno-princess · 3 years

Text

Bad For You Chapter 1

Fuckboy Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff (in future chapters), smut(maybe in a future chapter I’m still debating how I feel about that)

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Being a senior in college with less than two semesters in your entire educational career, you try your best not to get stuck in situations that will bring you any kind of stress. Unlike most of your classmates, you never searched for entertainment and fun in the college nightlife; partying, clubbing, getting drunk, high and hooking up with random strangers. You believed in working towards what will benefit you in the future. One day, your English professor gives you the opportunity of a lifetime; to pass his class without having to do anything at all. Most students would jump at his offer without hesitation. But what happens when what he’s asking of you just so happens to be the last thing you would ever find yourself wanting to do? Tutoring the same person you vowed never to get involved with? Mark Tuan was bad news and you’ve sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t interact with him under any circumstances. However, the offer is too good to refuse, but will it really be worth it in the end?

A/N: Hey guys! So this is the first chapter of my new series and I already have an idea of how I’m going to go about with this story I hope everything works out the way I want it to. I’m expecting to have about 5-6 chapters, but then again I never go through with what I plan. This first chapter is just an introduction as to how the main characters meet and so it might be kind of boring and more of a filler chapter but I’m sure the next one will be more interesting. Please enjoy!

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The sound of a clock ticking during a very important exam that was worth more than half of your grade had to be one of the most annoying and infuriating noises in the entire world; you were sure of it.

That damn clock on the wall mocked you—with each click, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to scream out in frustration and cause every one of your classmates to turn and look at you as if you were a wild animal. You sure felt like one.

It was as though every time the big hand moved, you’d forget one important piece of information that you studied multiple hours for in order to memorize. No matter how many all-nighters you pulled in the last week, all the notes that you took and repeatedly looked over—nothing seemed to be clicking.

Your mind was drawing a blank and it was really upsetting you. Ever since you were a little girl, you ate, breathed and slept your education. All you ever wanted was to succeed and do well in school.

It didn’t help that your parents put this immense pressure on you to succeed—being the youngest and only daughter out of four children led your parents in to expecting a lot more out of you than they did with your three older brothers. They were also extremely overprotective when it came to you.

Your brothers could go out and do whatever it was that they wanted; attend all these college frat parties, go to numerous bars only to get drunk off their asses and have your parents go and pick them up, drive all around Los Angeles and even leaving your sunny state of California to travel around cities like Las Vegas, Chicago and even New York. Hell, you couldn’t even cross the street by yourself let alone do anything most people would consider fun and exciting.

Everyone who knew of your existence considered you to be a goody two shoes; the teacher’s pet. You found fun in reading and watching documentaries about murderous affairs. Most people your age were constantly partying, getting drunk, high or both. You never understood why anyone would waste their time and money on unnecessary substances such as alcohol and drugs, but you were never one to judge.

Every now and then, your professor would inform the class how much time everyone had left to complete the exam. To everyone’s dismay, the door was slammed open; all eyes turned towards the front of the room—curious about who just entered. As soon as your gaze landed on him, you rolled your eyes in irritation.

“Professor Lee, I’m so sorry I’m late. I—“

“I don’t want to hear it Mr.Tuan, no excuses. You have less than twenty minutes to complete your exam. There’s no retakes, so instead of trying to get out of this one, I’d suggest you take out a pen, piece of paper and start writing.”

The boy in question made his way towards where you were sitting and gave you a smirk before sitting right behind you. Anyone and everyone who knew Mark was well aware as to why he was tardy. His tousled hair and swollen lips gave it away; it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what he was up to.

You couldn’t care less about what he did; you hardly even knew the guy, so whatever he would do in his free time didn’t matter to you. As you began to finish up on your last few questions, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Pssst. Y/n.”

Ignore him and he’ll leave you alone y/n.

Every time Mark would try and get your attention, whether it was to borrow a pencil or to coerce you in to giving him the answers on one of your assignments, you’d find yourself groaning in frustration. It’s as though he got a rise out of getting under your skin.

In the three months that you’ve had him in your English 345 class, you observed the fact that he never seemed to bother any of your other classmates except you. He had classmates sitting on either side of him, yet he never once spoke to them.

You’ve known Mark since middle school; he was one year older than you and he lived down your road, but the two of you never really interacted with one another. You came from two different social groups; his group of friends were very well known throughout your entire campus.

All seven members were apart of a sports team and they had to be the most attractive guys at your university. They were also notorious for being quite the players; none of them were in stable relationships.

Mark and his friends were known to hook up with random girls whose names they’d never end up learning and none of them slept with the same person twice. That’s just who they were.

Every Friday night, they’d throw a party at one of their apartments, one of the sorority houses or they’d rent out a hotel room. You made a pact with yourself to never get involved with any one of them. The last thing you needed was to get your heartbroken by an asshole who could give less of a shit about you.

You refused to allow any one of his friends; Mark in particular, take advantage of your kind hearted and gentle personality. As much as you wish you could be a cold-hearted, selfish person; especially because so many people have done you wrong in the twenty-two years of your existence, you could never hurt anyone or do anyone wrong the way they would so easily do to you. It just never felt right.

However, Mark Tuan was someone you wouldn’t care about hurting. He obviously didn’t care about anyone but himself and his atrocious group of friends; so you never allowed him to irritate you for longer than a few minutes. Luckily, he never took things further than a couple of snarky comments and throwing paper airplanes at you every now and then, but you could do without all of his childish antics.

Sometimes, you wondered why he chose you of all people to pick on and disturb. Maybe it’s because you were one of the only people he’s known since childhood, or because everyone was well aware of your friendly and welcoming personality. You were also considered the teacher’s pet for most of your professors.

A few of them; your biology, calculus—and even your English professor for this class had asked you to be their teacher’s assistant because they were confident they could trust in you to help them with their classes. Unfortunately, you had to decline.

With having a full-time job and taking on five classes, there was so much on your plate already and you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to give them the support and time they needed from their assistants. You had only three questions left to answer and you were more than happy to finally finish the test.

The word exhausted wasn’t even enough to describe just how tired you were. You worked a ten hour shift yesterday because two of your co-workers called in sick and you didn’t have the courage to tell your boss that you were tired from pulling an all-nighter the day before.

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment and fall asleep for the rest of the week. The constant tap on your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts and for a second, you almost forgot that you were in the middle of an exam. A groan of disbelief was at the tip of your tongue; who did he think he was coming in to class just minutes before it ended, expecting you to help him because it was painfully obvious he had no idea what he was doing.

“Y/n, what did you get for number 5? Hey—pssst—y/n—“

You continued to scribble down a few more sentences on the last question; wanting nothing more than to get out of the lecture hall but Mark adamantly had other plans.

“Come on, please? I don’t know how to answer this—“

“Mark, this is an exam. I can’t help you—“

“Just this one time. I promise. I’m already doing bad in this class. I can’t afford to fail—“

“Well that’s not my problem Mark. You need to learn how to manage your priorities better—“

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“

Right as you were about to retaliate and make a comment about his fuckboy lifestyle, a new presence joined the two of you and you felt yourself tense up at his words.

“Mr.Tuan, Miss y/l/n, is there a problem here?”

You shook your head in disagreement and mentally cursed the older boy for putting you in this situation. Not once in your entire educational career have you ever been called out by one of your teachers for not doing what you were supposed to and that was because you never failed to accomplish whatever it was that you were expected to do. There was no way you would let Mark Tuan out of all people get in the way of the reputation you’ve worked so hard to maintain as one of the top students at your university.

“No problem here sir, I was just asking y/n to borrow an eraser.”

Absentmindedly, your eyes rolled to the back of your head at how easily the lie fell from his lips. This happened to be the first class you had him in, but you had a huge feeling he was like this whenever there was something he desired. Whether it was school related, or a way to soothe his carnal urges, Mark would do whatever in his power to get whatever or whoever it was that he wanted.

It was adamant that he wasn’t going to do well on this test no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t strike you as someone who studied, nor did he seem like he cared about his education in the first place. None of his friends did. College was more about the night life experience; the alcohol, constant partying, drugs, sex—school was the last of any of their worries and you believed that one day, it would all come back to bite them all in the ass.

“Hm, is that so? Well then, please return back to your exams and if you don’t mind staying back, I’d like to talk to the both of you about something.”

If looks could kill, Mark would be six feet underground with the glare you were now sending him. The universe was not on your side at all today. Not only did the coffee shop get your order wrong, but your botany professor assigned you a group project you weren’t at all excited for and now—you were in trouble for something that wasn’t even your fault.

To both his and your surprise, you turned around and flipped Mark off. You hated the fact that his stupidity and ignorance was causing you to do all of these spiteful actions that you have never once done to anyone else. He was just that big of a narcissistic asshole and with the way he smirked at you, it was all the more evident that he was enjoying himself.

Mark got in trouble many times in class—or so you’ve heard people talk about. Everyone talked about him; no matter who it was, every single student on your campus knew of him. Some had nothing but envy and respect towards him and others never understood what was so good about him that the boys wanted to be him and the girls wanted to be under him.

You were one of the latter; other than his devastatingly handsome looks and how much of an amazing volleyball player he was, Mark didn’t have anything else going for him. He was the definition of a prick; he was cocky and treated people like shit. He also had a brain the size of a peanut which came as a shock seeing as how his younger brother Joey graduated over a year ago and had his bachelor’s degree in pharmaceutical engineering.

In fact, the entire Tuan family seemingly had great heads on their shoulders. Mark’s father owned one of the highest ranking tech companies in all of California. His mom and his oldest sister were realtors. You understood that his wealth and the success of his family were the only reasons why he wasn’t expelled from school. If it were anyone else, they would have been kicked out as soon as their g.p.a dropped below 2.0 like Mark’s was rumored to be.

“Good going dickhead.”

He cheekily winked at you before turning his attention back to his exam. You were going to make his life a living hell for what he put you through. Less than ten minutes later, your professor let the entire class know that time was up and one by one, your classmates began exiting the room. You could feel your blood pressure and anxiety levels rising at the thought of getting detention for Mark’s unintelligent disruption.

As soon as the last person left, you began to come up with what you were going to tell your teacher. You were willing to admit the fact that Mark was trying to cheat and get some answers from you. It wasn’t as though anything bad would happen to him anyway.

He’d get away with trying to get you to give him answers and maybe even torment you for throwing him under the bus. Oh God, what did you get yourself in to? Your professor sat on his desk as he motioned for the two of you to walk towards him.

A soft sigh fell from his lips and you were sure you could pass out because of how nervous you were. Even if you knew you didn’t do anything wrong, you were still freaking out about the consequences that came with helping someone on a test.

“Y/n, I just want to start off by saying you’re not in trouble. So, there’s nothing you need to worry about. However, it has come to my attention that you are looking towards getting an internship at the state capital. You’re majoring in law right? Well, I have a proposition for you, and I know—you might not like this and I’m sorry for asking you to do me such a huge favor like this. I’m sure you’re already busy as it is, but—“ He didn’t even have to ask just yet, you already had a feeling that his favor had to do with the remarkably inadequate boy on the right of you.

“Could you tutor Mark for me? Well, not just for me. His professors sent me emails about what they can do to help him.”

He turned over to Mark and released a soft sigh. You felt as though you were going to throw up. Tutor Mark? Seriously? You would rather rip out your eyelashes one by one. There was no way you would do such a thing. Sure, you were willing to stay after class and help your professors grade papers or you could come up with lesson plans in order to cut down the amount of work they had to do, but there was no way in hell you were going to do anything with or for Mark.

“I don’t like talking negatively about students. I know you’re a smart kid Mark. I acknowledge the fact that you do try; you’re such a great writer, but you don’t put your heart or mind in to anything beneficial. There’s honestly nothing else I can say or do to get you to try harder. You have so much potential, but you fail to use any of it. You could go far in life Mark, but you choose paths that will bring you nothing but destruction. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still so young and I’m sure you want to live your life to the fullest. But sometimes, you need to give up any kind of toxicity that will only bring you down. Y/n—a few other professors and I are willing to write you multiple letters of recommendation and I’m going to give you an immediate A for this class. You don’t have to worry about any other exams or assignments. Most of your time will be taken up trying to help assist Mark. I still expect you to listen in on our lectures just so you can understand and learn the course material, but you don’t have to worry about studying for any tests. I trust that you would pass all of them nonetheless. I know, I shouldn’t be asking you to help another student and please don’t feel like you have to do this. But just know that I and all your other professors would be more than grateful if you do decide to go along with my offer. I’ll give you a week to think about it. You may go now.”

All the blood in your body immediately began to rush to your head. Everything your professor explained to you went through one ear and out the other. You were being offered to pass the class with flying colors without having to worry about completing any assignments or taking quizzes—anyone in their right minds would willingly accept his proposition. It was the easiest A you could ever receive, yet in order to access it, you would have to go against everything you’ve set your mind to.

All the pacts you’ve made with yourself regarding Mark or any of his inconsiderate group of friends, were you really going to allow yourself to get involved with someone notorious for manipulating and taking advantage of other individuals without a care in the world? Sure, you wouldn’t have to worry about one of your classes and you’d have more time to focus on your more difficult subjects, but it would be at the cost of your morals and beliefs.

Mark Tuan was no good—even if it was only tutoring, you had a bad feeling in your gut that he would end up hurting you one way or another. You didn’t consider yourself to be the kind of girl Mark would mess around with or find attractive in any way, but then again—it didn’t matter what the person looked like or what their personality was like.

Everyone was just another body added to his count of poor unfortunate souls who were tricked in to finding their way in to bed with him. Once your professor excused you, you practically ran out of the building. Knowing that you were his only option, you were well aware that Mark would probably look for you and try to coerce you in to accepting the offer. If that did end up happening, you would stand your ground.

You weren’t afraid of Mark, nor did you consider him all that intimidating like everyone on campus did. He wasn’t going to get to you that easily, no matter how hard he would put in an effort to. Your professor gave you a week to think about it and there was nothing your school’s notorious bad boy could say or do to influence you to agree in helping him. As you were right about to unlock your car door, you heard feet running in the distance. It didn’t take a genius to know just who the footsteps belonged to. Hell, you picked up your pace in order to avoid him.

“Y/n, wait!”

If only you could continue your cold facade; there was a voice telling you to jump in your car and leave without giving him the time of day. You would just deal with him tomorrow. But you knew being brash wasn’t in your nature—you could never be mean to anyone. Even people like Mark who obviously deserved it.

There was no way you’d forgive yourself for showing him hostility; you’d only be sinking to his level. You released a frustrated groan—did he not even take a second to think about how much of an inconvenience he was right now? First, he bothered you during a very important exam, then he got you involved in catching the unwanted attention of your professor and now you’re being asked to tutor him.

Mark Tuan was the devil in human form, he had to be. There was no other plausible explanation as to why he is the conniving asshole you’ve grown accustomed to interact with in the last few months. It’s as if he had vengeance against you. Why else would he include you in his toxic way of going through school? You turned around to face him and crossed your arms in irritation. Right after he caught up to you, he placed both hands on his knees as if he was trying to catch his breath.

“What? Did you sprint here?”

“Obviously. I had a feeling there was a chance you’d want to talk to me about the deal our professor offered me, but I don’t have the energy to listen to you talk me in to doing so—“

“Come on y/n, you act like tutoring me is the worst thing on this entire earth—“

“Because it is. Look, I have a week to think about this okay? So if I were you, I’d watch how you act towards me and how you talk to me. Whether or not you graduate next spring is all on me. I’m going to warn you right now, nothing you can say or do will have an effect on my decision. If I decide to tutor you, it’s because I want to. Oh, and don’t think it’s because I don’t want to do work or tests. If anything, I would rather complete assignments and study for exams. The option he gave me isn’t an easy way out, so I don’t want you spreading bullshit lies about me just to make me look bad. If I say no, there’s no trying to get me to say yes. Am I clear?”

This was the first time you’ve ever seen Mark look worried in the many years that you’ve known him for. Almost everyone in his life, teachers, professors, fellow classmates, his friends and even some of his family members—they willingly gave him whatever it was that he asked for. You never understood why; why was everyone so afraid of him? He wasn’t all that muscular or buff. In fact, you’d mentally call him a limp noodle whenever he’d get on your nerves because he was quite the skinny guy.

But he’s always been like that. Mark was like a chihuahua; he was all bark and no bite. Maybe he used his family’s power and wealth against others, or maybe he would promise financial or social gain to make others succumb to his wishes. Whatever it was—you needed him to know that it wouldn’t work on you. It was obvious that no one has ever talked to Mark the way you currently were just by the way he looked at you in shock.

You were a force to be reckoned with. If Mark considered you to be a soft spoken, quiet pushover, then boy—did he have something coming for him. He wasn’t wrong to think like that; you were a genuinely kind-hearted soul. However, that was to those who deserved it. Mark wasn’t on that list, nor would he ever make it there. Ever.

“Fine. Just—please think about it? No funny business, I promise. I just—I want to know. Be honest with me. Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to cause you so much anguish and distress? Is it something I said? Did? Whatever it is, I’m sorry. Sincerely. I’m not saying that in order to win brownie points or to get on your good side, I mean it. You are the only person on this entire campus who seems to take a disliking to me and I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

As soon as the last word of apology fell from his lips, you could feel your throat getting choked up. You wanted to believe he was trying to come up with ways to make you feel bad for him; to get you to really think about helping him out. But there was no malice in his speech—his eyes looked so sincere. If he was lying, then damn—he deserved a fucking Oscar.

Deep down in your heart though, you knew he was being serious. Why were you now feeling bad that you were vehemently treating him like the scum under your toes? Obviously, you weren’t going to grovel at his feet the way most of the girls at your university did—but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be civil with him.

Mark hasn’t cared about his attendance or grade in this class since the beginning of the semester—so it really boggled your mind as to why he was trying to be involved in his education right now. That wasn’t your business to have knowledge of. You and Mark weren’t friends. You’d probably never ever be friends, so the reasoning for his sudden interest in putting his focus towards his education wasn’t your problem to deal with.

You brought your vision to the ground; your converse seemed like the most interesting thing in the world at the moment. There was no way you could look at him, you were sure you’d give him your answer if you were to look at him and see how distraught he was from your hostility. You opened the back seat of your car and threw in your bag and your books before making your way to the front seat.

Thankfully, Mark had a conscience and moved out of the way. He probably didn’t want to get even more so on your nerves and you appreciated his new timid nature.

Mark Tuan had finally met his match.

Once you pulled out of the stall, you rolled down your window and took in a deep breath—not sure if you were making the right decision as the words fell off your tongue; but it didn’t matter anymore.

“Meet me tomorrow in the library at three. Don’t be late or you can forget about having me as a tutor. Oh, and I don’t hate you. But don’t think so highly of yourself, I don’t think all that highly of you either.”

The soft smile that was now beaming on his face pulled on your heartstrings and soon you felt a warm sensation in your chest—wait. What? Oh God—no. No, no, no. What have you done?

You just sold your soul to the devil.

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 #got7 mark

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paulinedorchester · 3 years

Text

Garrett, Leah. X Troop: The Secret Jewish Commandos of World War II. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2021; London: Vintage Publishing, 2021.

(The American cover is on the left, the British on the right.)

Every so often, gifs from something called X Company cross my dashboard. When I came across Leah Garrett’s book X Troop, my first thought was that it must treat the same subject, but it seems that that can’t be the case: Garrett maintains that none of this story has ever been told before, because most of the documentation remained classified until very recently. (She claims to have single-handedly declassified many sealed British military records.) X Troop is about No. 10 (Inter-Allied) Commando, 3 Troop, commonly referred to as X Troop, comprising 87 German, Austrian, and (in a few cases) Hungarian refugees, all but five of them Jewish (at least under Nazi racial laws — I’ll get to that). It is indeed an extraordinary story, and occasionally an infuriating one. Garrett has done a tremendous public service in relating this tale, but the book itself has some puzzling — no, let's be honest, irritating — aspects.

The men who would make up X Troop left their native countries in their mid to late ’teens during the late 1930s, most of them without their parents as passengers on the Kindertransport. They occupied themselves in various ways until the middle of 1940 when, apparently without exception, they were interned on the Isle of Man, in Canada, or in Australia, to which more than 2,500 of them were transported on the H.M.T. Dunera, a dangerously over-crowded liner on which they endured conditions so horrific that the officer in charge — Major William Patrick Scott, a gleeful sadist and anti-Semite — ended up being court-martialed.

It is heartening to be able to report that British public opinion appears to have turned strongly against wholesale internment by mid-1941, but it wasn’t until that December that the internees were released from confinement. Those who had been transported overseas were offered immediate permission to return to the U.K. — if they volunteered for the Pioneer Corps, and I’m grateful to Garrett for providing the first detailed explanation that I’ve seen of what that meant. It wasn’t a good situation: they did menial labor and were bored out of their minds.

In the summer of 1942, they were finally offered an opportunity to join in the fight against the Nazis. This appears to be an instance in which the “great man” theory of history is perfectly valid, Lord Mountbatten being the great man in question. Garrett explains:

Mountbatten made a bold suggestion [to Winston Churchill]: they should create a new special unit of commandos, different from anything used before. Rather than coming from the ranks of the army or the navy, No. 10 (Inter-Allied) Commando would be composed of soldiers made up of displaced nationals such as Poles, Norwegians, and Frenchmen. Each of the units . . . would be used for different missions depending on their native languages. They would be unified by the shared desire to drive the Nazis out of their home countries. These commandos, highly trained and highly motivated, would lead the way when the time came for the Allies’ invasion of Europe.

And that’s exactly what happened. There were French, Dutch, Belgian, Norwegian, Polish, and Yugoslavian troops within No. 10 (Inter-Allied) Commando. There was also a troop known as the “British” troop, made up of Germanophones. That was X Troop (a nickname Churchill gave them). “X Troop would be Britain’s secret shock troop in the war against Germany,” Garrett relates:

They would kill and capture Nazis on the battlefield. But that would not be all. They would also immediately interrogate captured Germans, be it in the heat of the battle or right afterward. The men’s fluency in German would enable them to get essential intelligence that would guide the next moment’s choices rather than having to wait to interview prisoners until they were back at headquarters. ... They would have to be in peak form both physically and mentally. And because they were nearly all Jewish refugees from the Third Reich, they also would need to be diligently protected.

The situation was particularly dire because most were stateless — stripped of their citizenship in Germany or Austria, but refused naturalization by the Home Office. As one officer later recalled, “If any of them were captured in battle and their true identity had been revealed, their fate would have been almost impossible to contemplate.” (Those who chose to remain in the U.K. after the war faced an uphill battle in gaining British citizenship, as Garrett relates. She tells us nothing, incidentally, about Jewish personnel in the other No. 10 (Inter-Allied) Commando Troops.)

The first step was to have them adopt pseudonyms. When they arrived in Aberdovey (now Aberdyfi), Wales, for training they were each given 30 minutes to come up with a nom de guerre. They also had to concoct false backgrounds to explain why they spoke English with foreign accents. One man told the couple with whom he was billeted “that his accent was somewhat peculiar because his father had traveled a lot on business,” an unlikely story that they apparently accepted without question.

X Troop personnel were involved in the Dieppe raid — which may have been a mistake, as the troop was just past its infancy and several of the men were killed — and the Sicily landings and their aftermath, but of course all of that was really just a warm-up for the invasion of Normandy and, beyond that, Germany. More than half of the book is devoted to this. Assigned to various units, nearly all of the commandos landed at Sword Beach on June 6th, 1944, and proceeded into Central Europe, achieving victory after victory. Garrett places great emphasis on anger as their motivator: anger at the disruption of their lives and at their uncertainly over the fate of their parents and other relatives.

Leah Garrett is American; she is also Jewish. Like the overwhelming majority of my fellow Jews in this country, she is incapable of acknowledging the possibility of viable Jewish life outside of the U.S. or Israel. Her main piece of evidence for this view, which she hammers home repeatedly, is the fact that all but three of the surviving X-Troopers (22 were killed in action) chose to continue using their noms-de-guerre after the war — and, as she is at pains to point out, all of those who resumed their original names ended up emigrating to the United States! (The book’s excellent index helps the reader keep track of who was whom.) It’s true that names hold an important place in Jewish culture, but coming from someone using Garrett as a surname, her attitude comes across as either oblivious or chutzpadik, I’m not quite sure which. She also seems not to know that, historically at least, Jewish immigrants to Britain have changed their names with an assiduousness that makes the same phenomenon in the U.S. look like a mere blip.

Garrett also informs us, in the written equivalent of hushed tones, that some of the men who settled in the U.K. after the war married gentile women and brought up their children as at least nominal members of various Christian bodies. I share her discomfort with this, to be sure, but in order to maintain her shocked, shocked, stance she has to ignore something that she has in fact explained at some length in the book’s early chapters: a significant percentage of the future X-Troopers had only one or two Jewish grand-parents apiece, were brought up as Lutherans or Roman Catholics, and had absolutely no idea that they had any Jewish forebears until Nazi racial laws forced the issue into view. While I’ve known quite a few converts to Judaism whose initial impetus was the discovery of Jewish ancestry, it’s a bit much to expect that everyone will react that way. On the other hand, it’s dispiriting to learn that the inscription on the monument to X Troop that was raised in Aberdyfi in 1999 does not include the words Jews or Jewish.

Garrett is Professor of Jewish Studies and Director of the Jewish Studies Center at Hunter College, part of the City University of New York (CUNY), a post she has held since 2018; she previously taught at the University of Denver and Monash University. As a former CUNY faculty member myself, I’m in a position to tell you that (a) even as a full professor, she won’t have been hired with tenure, and (b) this book probably won’t help her to achieve it. It’s a great read on an important topic and represents prodigious research, but as a work of scholarship it has several marks against it. It doesn’t come from an academic publisher. It has only a partial scholarly apparatus — end notes, but no bibliography, or even a list of the many abbreviations used in the notes. Those notes aren’t always as useful as one would like, I might add: after relating that some of the men interned in Australia chose to remain there permanently, Garrett announces that they “would forever change the landscape of Australia. They would be known as the Dunera boys and would become leaders in the arts, sciences, culinary arts, and industry during the twentieth century,” but fails to give us any clue as to where we can go to find out more.

She also adopts an informal writing style that alternates between the faintly slangy (“All the evidence I’ve found points to ... ”) and the unnecessarily dramatic: two key chapters are written entirely in the present tense, a strategy that would normally be after my own heart, but which feels contrived in this context. It also seems not to be the case that none of this has ever been written about previously, as Garrett asserts. (Last but not least, Garrett recently resigned from CUNY’s faculty union, which may end up affecting her status there, as tenure recommendations are made by union members.)

Mixed feelings, then; but the book is worth reading, and I can recommend it.

#world war ii #u.k. armed forces #refugees #historical accounts #a long post for sunday #longer than i had intended in fact #with some very long paragraphs #book review #recommended with reservations

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villainousshakespeare · 3 years

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Family Night

Tom Hiddleston/Fem!Reader RPF

Warnings: some angst, family drama, squabbling, fluff, feels, warmth, love, implied future smut After reconnecting on the set of In The Timing, Tom wants you to meet his family. How bad could it be?

I am feeling soft and fragile this week, so I had the urge to drop in on this couple and see a little slice of their life. Just some feels and a little bit of angst, but lots of love.

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @alexakeyloveloki @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @ciaodarknessmyheart @frostbitten-written @grufflepuff-writes-stuff @hiddlesholic @hopelessromanticspoonie @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions @poetic-fiasco @redfoxwritesstuff @shiningloki @shae-annelore @vodka-and-some-sass @wolfsmom1 @yespolkadotkitty

"I've changed my mind. I don't think this is a good idea," you said nervously as the car pulled into the driveway of a nice house in the suburbs of Oxford.

"Darling, relax," Tom sighed, shifting the jag into park and turning his devastatingly blue eyes on you. "Everything is going to be fine. They'll love you."

"I don't know how you can say that," you fretted. "Your mother hates me!"

"Correction," he grinned, "she hated you. Past tense. But back then you were the evil siren who had seduced her baby boy into a hedonistic life of sin he was too young and naïve to be prepared to resist, putting his entire bright and shiny future at risk."

"This is not helping!"

"Now though," he continued, ignoring your interruption, "you are the brilliant author of her favorite novels, and the screenwriter who has single handedly elevated her perfectly grown up boy to new heights of acclaim."

"I am the same person though!"

"I know that darling. I have inspected you very closely to catalogue that all of you is, indeed, just as I remember it from our first meeting-"

"With a few more pounds," you muttered.

"And you are exactly as perfect as I remember, if not more so. My mother, on the other hand, has a more selective memory."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, that by this time I am sure she has managed to convince herself that she always loved you, and wanted only for us to end up happily together."

You gave him a hard look, wanting to believe the slightly smug smile that tilted his lips but having a hard time doing so. Mrs. Hiddleston had definitely not approved of you all those years ago, and you doubted time would make her forget. You couldn't really blame the woman. You yourself had been convinced that the difference in your ages and circumstances had been an insurmountable barrier to your relationship. Tom had been a young student, just out of university and about to begin intensive training to become an actor. You were years older and already settled into your life as a writer, although you had yet to have much success at it. While the passion between you was undeniable, you had let your insecurity lead you to end the relationship.

Now, years later, situations had altered. Tom was indeed all grown up and an international movie star to boot, as you had always known he could be. You were still older of course, but the difference in your ages seemed less significant now that you were both established in the world. Everything had changed, except for the fire that still sprang to light when you were in the same room. That miracle had somehow managed to survive the separation, reigniting stronger than ever when your paths crossed again to make the movie you had written drawing inspiration in part from your love for him. For the millionth time you thanked whatever gods might be listening for giving you a second chance with this man.

"Come on, best face the fire and get it over with," he said, getting out of the car and trotting to your side to open your door like the perfect gentleman he pretended to be. Only you knew better.

"What fire? I thought you said there was nothing to worry about?"

"Merely a metaphor love. Besides, my sisters and their families are here, so that should smooth things over."

"Yeah, that's going to make me feel less nervous," you groused.

Tom held the door open and ushered you into the house, steering to the left and into a cozy, tastefully decorated living room.

"Mum, we're here!" he bellowed as he helped you out of your coat and hung it with his on a peg in the hall.

"Uncle Yay Monster!!!!"

A quick thunder of steps was heard as a small child hurtled down the stairs and straight into the impossibly long legs of your companion. Tom laughed with genuine joy as he tousled the curly blond hair and attempted to pry the arms from around his legs. When he finally freed himself, it was only to swing the young girl, you guessed she was around 6, up into his arms for a bear hug that should have crushed her. Only your knowledge of how deceptively gentle he could be kept you from fearing for the child.

"Hello Pip!" he said, lifting her higher to balance on his shoulders. "Miss me?"

"Yes! Daddy's not as tall as you are!"

"Oh, so that's all I'm good for, is it? A better view? You women are heartless!" Tom winced as two little hands grabbed clutches of his hair, tugging for balance.

"No, not all. You also bring me presents!"

"Presents? What presents?" he made his voice baffled.

"Uncle Tom, you did bring me something, didn't you?" the shameless child wheedled.

"Maybe... grab my knapsack, would you?" he asked you.

As you moved to pick up the bag from where he had dropped it, you felt the girl's eyes focus on you as she suddenly realize she and her beloved uncle were not alone in the room.

"Who are you?" she asked with that directness only children could get away with.

Trying to hide your nerves, seriously how could you be nervous of a six year old? you introduced yourself, smiling up at her. From her lofty perch the girl regarded you as if you were an intruder into her realm and she was not sure whether to welcome you or order your beheading.

"Why is she here?" she asked Tom, who was moving from foot to foot in order to bounce her.

"Mind your manners, Pip," he scolded with a laugh. "She's a friend of mine. A very special friend."

"Gran did say you were bringing someone... I had thought she meant Luke."

"Why would I bring Luke to a family dinner?"

"Well, he's almost like family," she whined.

Tom swung the now squirming child off of his shoulders and hunched down to look at her more closely. You could see the disappointment in her face, and from the slight stain of her cheeks you had a sudden flash that her irritation was not so much at your inclusion than at the publicist's absence.

"Oh, Luke is fun, isn't he?" you asked, earning yourself a quick, incredulous look from Tom. "It's a shame he couldn't come tonight."

"He is!" the little girl turned her attention to you with a smile. "He scolds Uncle Yay Monster, and sometimes gets cross at him, but he's always very polite to me. He says that I'm the only Hiddleston who knows how to behave!"

"Shows what he knows," Tom huffed under his breath, making you struggle not to laugh.

"He's a very smart man," you nodded, ignoring your beau. "The first time I met him he said that he hoped I might be able to keep your uncle in line. I haven't had much luck so far. But to honest I don't really want to. I rather like it when he misbehaves. Sometimes."

"Me too," she admitted after a moment. "But don't tell Luke that!"

"I promise, it will stay between us," you said solemnly.

"I guess you can stay then," she decided. "Now, what did you bring me?"

"Greedy little Pip!"

"Pip?" you asked.

"Short for pipsqueak," Tom supplied with a grin.

"My name," she said with all the maturity of a duchess, "is Emilia. Only he calls me Pip. And only because he refuses to stop, even though I am much too old for that name now."

"Well, then I will call you Emilia. It's a very pretty name. Much more suitable than Pip."

"Traitor," Tom accused as he fished through his bag.

"I thought I heard voices!"

Emilia was squealing over her Shuri action figure, autographed on her feet, when a small group of adults entered the room. The family resemblance between Tom and his sisters was unmistakable. Fair haired and blue eyed, they were a classically attractive British family. Tom affectionately hugged both women with genuine warmth before moving on to the two men hanging slightly back and also gripping them in embraces. You stood aside and let the voices wash over you for a moment before he Tom turned back you and raised an eyebrow, drawing you to his side.

"Allow me to introduce my family. My sisters, Sarah and Emma, and their poor, beleaguered spouses Yakov and Jack."

"Hi," you managed. "Nice to meet you all."

"Oh, I love your books!" Sarah gushed, easing your mind a bit that the first response was positive.

"So, this is the woman we've heard so little about!" Emma, the younger of the two women said with a familiar grin.

"I've told you about her!" he insisted.

"You'll have to excuse Tom," Sarah told you with a roll of her eyes. "He loves to stoke the drama by being mysterious."

"I didn't realize I was such a secret," you said, glancing at him.

"They're grossly overstating things," he replied.

"No such thing. Tom never brings his women home. Not that there have been a lot of women," Sarah hastened to add.

Emma nodded. "And never for more than -"

"Three months!" they said in unison.

"Shut it!" Tom warned eloquently.

"Ah, the three month rule," Emma sighed dramatically, reminding you of her brother. "Give them just enough time to become fatally attached, poor deluded things, and then kick them to the curb."

"We never even get to meet most of them. He's always been that way. Ever since the woman."

"Sarah," Tom's voice was a warning.

"The woman?" you asked at the same time.

"Years ago, no one for you to worry about now!" she insisted quickly.

"Some older woman who broke his heart. Poor boy was never the same since. Not that he was such a catch before, mind you," Emma put in.

"That's enough," Tom snapped.

"Ooh, Tommy's angry!" Emma teased. "What was her name? Sarah do you remember?"

"Let me think," the older sister tilted her head to the side.

"No need," you decided to end the torture. "Um... it was me."

"What?" two sets of blue eyes stared at you while Tom ran his hand down his face.

"Can we maybe sit down now and talk like adults?" he asked in a pained voice.

"Oh, I need to hear this!" Emma said, falling into a chair.

Tom closed his eyes briefly and pulled you to his side on one of the comfortable sofas. You gave him a week smile and drew strength from the way his hand squeezed yours.

"Yes, alright," he said with a sigh. "Let's not all make a big deal out of this. We dated years ago. It was not an ideal break up -"

"I'll say," Sarah interrupted. "You cried for months!"

"I did not cry for - that is not the point. We met again on the set of the film, and the feelings were still there. We've been back together ever since."

"That would be so romantic if it wasn't about Tom!" Emma cooed.

"I think it's plenty romantic with anyway, thank you very much," he replied.

"I don't know what to think," Sarah said. "On the one hand, I swore if I ever met the woman who hurt my baby brother so badly I would beat the stuffing out of her. On the other... well, he does look fairly happy now."

"I am very happy now, so there will be no beating of anyone!"

"I really didn't mean to hurt him," you demurred. "I just thought the timing wasn't right."

"And I disagreed," Tom said through gritted teeth. "However, we both concur that the timing is impeccable now, so here we are."

"Wait, does your mother know?" Jack asked, interrupting the sibling banter for the first time. All eyes swung to him and he raised his hands defensively. "What? I know I'm the newest one, or was until now, but even I have heard of that woman who broke her baby's heart."

"I knew this was a bad idea!" you groaned.

"Well, it's not as though we had many alternatives," Tom shrugged philosophically. "You could hardly just never meet my mother if we are going to be together."

"I'm sure we could make it work some how," you said in a panic.

"Oh, don't worry about mum," Emma waved off your concern breezily. "Once she sees how dopy the Little Prince is over you, she'll come round soon enough."

"I'm just excited that Tom finally has a partner!" Sarah grinned.

"A partner for what?" you asked, a new sinking feeling hitting you.

"Game night of course!" Sarah answered.

"There are too many of us not to play partners, not if we ever want to go to bed," Emma explained, "but poor Tommy never has anyone for his team."

"Not since he made Mum cry that one time," Sarah added.

"I did not make her cry!"

"Yes you did!" his sisters said in unison.

"He made Luke swear once," Emilia added in from where she sat, previously forgotten by the grownups, introducing Shuri to Loki and Peter Parker figures. "I heard it all the way up in my room!"

"Pip! Hush! You're supposed to be on my side!" Tom told her.

"I thought it was funny," she giggled.

"Well, yes, so did I," he admitted, "but that's not the point."

"The last time he brought Bobby and said the dog was going to be his partner," Yakov sniggered.

"As I recall, we won anyway," Tom said superiorly. "I don't need a partner to beat the lot of you. Of course, I am glad to have you anyway, darling."

"I can't say the feeling is necessarily mutual," you looked at him in dawning horror.

"It shouldn't be," Emma mouthed at you in an exaggerated stage whisper. "

"Mr. Bossy Pants doesn't like loosing, you see," Emma told you gleefully.

"But he looooooves rules!" Sarah added.

"Well, there's no point without rules!"

"You are such a tight ass!" Emma mocked.

"Just because you're damn squib when it comes to games has to cheat to win!"

"Thomas William Hiddleston, how dare you talk to your sister that way!"

All heads turned to the entryway where a stylish woman of advancing years stood, arms on hips, looking fierce despite her red apron. Tom stood and took a step forward, face flushing as he realized his mother had caught him out.

"That's right, you tell him!" Emma couldn't seem to resist saying.

"Hush Emma," the matriarch said to her younger daughter, "I have no doubt you were provoking him."

"See, she always takes his side!" Sarah pointed out to you.

"That's because you two always gang up on me!"

"Stop it all of you, or do you all have to go sit on the naughty step for a time out?"

All three Hiddleston children looked mutinous, but held their peace as their mother stared them down.

"Some day you will have to teach me how to do that," Jack sighed wistfully.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't work for you dear," she smiled at him. "You have to be a mother. Now, Tom, would you like to introduce me to your friend?"

"Of course," Tom seized the change in conversation and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you to your feet like an overzealous puppy. "Mum, I know you've been telling me you wanted to meet the woman who had made me sound so happy on the phone. Well, here she is!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hiddleston," you lied, smiling anxiously.

"Oh, please, call me Diana," she smiled, moving in to hug you. "From what I've gleaned from my son, you are practically part of the family all ready."

"She certainly is," he agreed, beaming. "And I want no more jokes about three month rules or mystery dates."

"Oh, have the girls been giving Tom a hard time?" Diana sighed, rolling her eyes at her children. "They do love to needle him."

"It's good for him," Sarah opined. "Helps to counteract all that Sexiest Man Alive nonsense to hear from people who know the truth."

"Not to mention it's proper payback for the therapy bills from having to see our brother's arse on the big screen every time we go to the movies."

"Mum..." Tom wheedled.

"Alright girls, that's enough in front of Tom's friend. So, you two met on the set of the film? I love your writing by the way! Did Tom tell you I was the one who suggested he go after that project?"

"He did," you confirmed.

"From the moment I read your books, I couldn't help but think of my Tom. Well, perhaps not in the steamier scenes... I confess I had to skip those. I'm not a prude you understand, it's just in this case..."

"I understand completely!" you interjected as her children shuddered and squirmed.

"Good. I just couldn't get past the idea that the stories were written specifically with him in mind!"

"Well, actually," you took a deep breath, deciding to face the fire head on, just as Tom suggested, "they were."

"Oh, you mean you were a fan of his work?" she smiled. "I can understand that. He is rather charming on screen, at least in the movies where he is not forced into some ridiculous wig."

"No," licked your lips nervously and glanced at Tom.

"You see Mum," he took over, taking your clammy hand in his firm, warm embrace, "we had met before. In point of fact, you two have met before."

"Oh, Tom, don't be silly. I would remember that!"

"Oh, I think you do," he grinned, making you wonder if he'd gone mad. "It was the first time you dropped by my apartment at RADA. You hadn't called, and I thought you were the pizza deliveryman."

"Oh dear," Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose as you cringed in memory.

"Now Tom, the only woman I ever met at your apartment was that dreadful... oh!"

"Indeed," he nodded.

"You mean you were..."

"I'm afraid so," you mumbled, staring at the floor.

"But you were so old," she said. "So much older than my Tommy."

"Real tactful, Mum," Emma commented.

"I am older than him," you confirmed.

"But you don't look it all," Diana said, looking from you to her son. "If I didn't know any better, I would think that Tom was at least your age, if not older."

"Thanks, Mum."

"It's all that time in the sun," Sarah said. "I've told you to put on sunblock."

"I do."

"Children," Diana said, voice crisp with command, "the table needs setting."

Clearly knowing when fun time was over, Sarah and Emma jumped to their feet and with startling alacrity were out of the room, husbands in tow. Tom put his arm around your waist and stubbornly stood firm in a power stance, glaring at his mother.

"You too, Tom," she told him quietly.

"It does not take five people to set a table," his voice was just as soft.

"Then you can make the salad. We all know from that silly addvert you filmed that you know how to do that at least."

"It's okay, Tom," you told him as he geared up to protest again. "I'll be fine."

"Of course she will. Emilia, don't think I don't see you there. Go with your uncle and make sure he doesn't cut himself on any of the knifes."

You could tell that Tom wanted to protest further, but with his niece staring up at him adorably he was unable to do so. At last, with a disgruntled grunt, he lifted Emilia back onto his shoulders and harrumphed off towards the kitchen.

"Please, have a seat."

Diana gestured to one of the highbacked chairs. You perched on the edge as though prepared to fly off at any moment. The older woman settled herself straight backed in the seat across from you and looked you over carefully.

"So, you're her," she said at last. "I must confess, you look quite different in my memory."

"It was some time ago," you mumbled.

"A decade and a half. You broke his heart when you left him you know. He never really got over it. Oh, he dated of course. Actresses, popstars, but his heart was never in it."

"I never got over it either," you confessed, tears fighting to form in your eyes. "I loved him very much, even back then."

"But you left him."

"I did."

"Why?" she seemed very intent as she held your gaze. This mattered, you knew. Deeply.

"Because I loved him," you admitted. "I loved him from that first night. But he's Tom, and was even back then. He was brilliant, and driven, and had the whole world spread out in front of him."

"He did. I thought you were going to stand in the way of all of that. Be a distraction."

"I would have. If you know Tom, and of course you do, you know he is incapable of doing anything by half measure. If he committed himself to me, he would have gone all in. How would he be able to do that and gain the experience he needed?"

"He wouldn't have."

"I agree. He would have missed out on all the adventures waiting for him. And he would have secretly resented me, maybe even hated me for it."

"I don't know about that," Diana said, thinking it over, "but I would have. Yes, I can admit that. He was always destined for greatness, that boy. His father and I knew it from a very young age. When he told me about you, I thought you were an opportunist. Using an up and coming young boy for all the things that an older woman would. When you dumped him, well I just assumed..."

"That I had gotten bored with him?" you guessed.

"Well, yes I suppose. But that wasn't it at all. You weren't being dismissive, you were being protective. You put Tom's needs above your own."

"I don't know that I was being all that altruistic," you laughed. "Being tied to someone who resented me didn't seem like all that much fun for me either in the long run. But yes, I wanted what was best for him."

"Of course he couldn't see that. He's always been a stubborn boy. But now, after all this time..."

"It was like fate," you blurted out. "I know that sounds hokey, but it was as though the universe wanted us to end up together."

"Maybe it did."

"Then you're not upset?"

"My dear," she said, "I have watched my son his whole life. He is not an easy man in many ways. He is elusive, competitive, bossy, and highly driven. His standards for others are only exceeded by his standards for himself. If you have managed to maintain his interest, not to mention his heart, for all this time, who am I to gainsay that? Yes, I objected to your relationship in the past. You were correct about the opportunities he would have missed out on. But it's different now. Tom is a man, and well established in the world. He can pick and choose his projects to a great extent, and has the clout in the industry to set his own terms. If that includes bringing his wife on a shoot, or scheduling so that it fits in with her schedule, well, good for him."

"Wife?" you squeaked. "There's been no talk of that!"

"Oh, just wait. As I said, I know my son. He is not one to let the grass grow under his feet. If he is introducing you to all of us, and I admit, we can be a trial, then his plans are not of the short term variety."

"I want to be the flower girl!" a high pitched, excited voice called from the hallway.

"Emilia! Were you eaves dropping?" Diana exclaimed.

"Only because they told me to!" the little girl poked her head in to say.

"For the love of... if you'll excuse me, I have some children to reprimand."

"Of course," you said with a small chuckle.

"But first," you were suddenly embraced in a warm, maternal hug, "allow me to officially welcome you to the family. You have your work cut out for you. But please, for me sake, try to get him to cut his hair, or at least buy a new outfit. We are all heartily sick of The Uniform."

With a last squeeze, Diana got up and headed for the kitchen, leaving you shaken on the couch. Tom had been right, you had faced your fear, and the worst had not happened. In fact, things had gone better than you ever hoped for.

"Everything alright, love?" he asked, stepping in from a side door that you hadn't realized was there.

"Everything is wonderful!" you smiled tearily at him.

"See, I told you she'd love you!"

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be getting scolded?" you asked, coming into his arms.

"Ah, well. Every good obnoxious brother knows all the escape routes. I slipped out as soon as heard footsteps. By the time Mum finds me, she will be worn out from dealing with the others. Classic technique! Time tested."

"You must have been a terror," you laughed.

"Oh, most definitely," he agreed happily. "But now I'm your terror. And I assure you my sisters are very happy to have me off of their hands."

"I'll bet."

Tom grinned, and then kissed you soundly, making you forget for a moment the large family argument doubtless going on in the other room. He had a way of taking every thought from your head except for how perfect it felt to be in his arms, pressed against him. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard and more than a little excited.

"Best stop that for the time," he said regretfully. "Or we'll be in for it even more."

"You're probably right," you had to admit. Then a thought struck you and you couldn't resist a giggle. "Tom?"

"Yes love?" he asked, kissing your neck.

"What's the naughty step?"

"Just wait until everyone else goes to bed tonight," he told you, head in his voice, "and I'll show you."

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston/Reader #Tom Hiddleston/Fem!Reader #Tom Hiddleston/OFC #Romance #Love #Families #angst #fluff #teasing #squabbling #siblings #past relationship drama #meeting the family #tom hiddleston rpf #In the Timing

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tailorvizsla · 4 years

Text

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 1

Title: The Armorer and an Introduction Word Count: ~2350 Pairing: Paz x Reader Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Summary:

Mandalorian courtship is very simple: declare your interest in someone, spend time together if they reciprocate, and get married after a year or so. Getting married is even easier – simply swap the vows and announce it a few days later to the Tribe so you can all celebrate the happy news. Then spend the next few months fending off the nosy Elders (who all want to know when they can expect to hear more little feet on the ground). At the end of it all, Mandalorians court the same way the rest of the galaxy does.

Except for Paz Vizla. Despite his Traditionalist background, he goes about this courtship and marriage business in a very nontraditional way...a very, very, very nontraditional way. This can also be found at AO3. Chapters: 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

📚 My Master List 📚 Author’s Notes:

This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story in a very long time.

I’ve been working on this since February. It’s been finished for a few weeks now, but I’ve been procrastinating in posting because I have had such a hard time justifying why Paz behaves the way he does even though we only see him for like 3 seconds in the series. I’m not sure if anyone else does this, but I like having a reason to write a story, even if it’s just to get the fluff out. For this, I wanted to flesh out Paz’s character for future works, but I have had such a hard time figuring out the words for it that I just...didn’t post. It felt wrong to continue forward without being able to explain to myself why he does what he does. Something that @plexflexico said in one of their responses to a review I left resonated with me and finally inspired me to post this publicly.

“Paz might have had less than a minute of screen time, but that time was VERY enlightening because both scenes were at moments of great tension and high emotion. I felt that any man who could succinctly put his people’s plight into words, and was so angry over this betrayal by someone who should have known better that there was no way this was simply a brute. This is a man who thinks and feels, deeply.”

This. This is exactly what I couldn’t find the words for. This, to me, is Paz Vizla. I have seen stories/HCs that portray him as a brute in an attempt to show him as a strong, confident, and masculine character. I am not fond of that portrayal because it lacks depth. I don't see that from a man whose culture embraces competency and skill before gender or sex. For those of you who have not read Asterism, go do it now, I promise you will love every single word. @plexflexico perfectly captures every emotion and thought of each scene just perfectly. This is Grade Amazing Super Plus Rank writing and Plex deserves an award for their work. And also for the inspiration because her Paz is the man everyone who wants a man deserves to have in their life.

The Foundry is the most sacred place for any Tribe blessed enough to have one of its own. It is the physical manifestation of the Resol'nare: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, the language, and the leader. Here, children and new recruits receive their first set of beskar'gam and swear their oaths to follow the path, making the Foundry the spiritual birthplace of every member of the Tribe.

At night, when the work is finished, and the flames are dimmed, the young and old gather within so they may learn from and educate one another. Most importantly, this is where most individuals begin their first lessons in Mando'a, under the guidance of the Elders. The foundry is where the armaments are made and dispensed for the protection of each person and the Tribe as a whole. When a hunter returns with their offerings, they return to the Foundry, and disperse it to those who depend upon them for sustenance and care. Finally, the Foundry serves as a place for the leadership to gather.

Armorer has had the distinct honor and privilege of being both armorer and leader to her people for many years, though she is now only the armorer for the tribe. Upon joining with tribe Marell, she relinquished her role as the Alor. However, the respect and authority she commands is not diminished in any capacity. Should Alor Dezha not be available to decide on a course of action, the Tribe will come to her, and her decision will be both supported and respected. Dezha respects her a great deal, and he will often seek her opinion if his path is unclear. Despite the differences in their interpretations of the Oath, they have come to live in harmony with one another. They strengthen what is weak in each other, and that is how it should be in a flourishing Tribe.

Tonight, she once more has the honor of being part of a marriage ceremony. Lifting her heavy hammer, Armorer brings it down onto the glowing ingot of metal, watching as it flattens and spreads under her blow. She continues to strike the metal with slow, methodical precision until it reaches the proper thickness. Then the Armorer takes it back to the flame, where she allows it to glow blazing white. It only takes a few moments, and she returns it to the anvil. The steady clang clang of her hammer is punctuated only by the occasional trip to the flames.

The union of two Mandalorians in marriage is – and always has been – a joyous occasion, for that union brings forth stability for the children and the Tribe. Traditionally, the parents take turns hunting, or if the Tribe has the numbers, both parents will hunt together, and leave their children in the care of the rest of the family. Having that one trusted person, the one who knows their every strength and weakness by their side, leads to success, both in the field and at home.

She pauses once more to check the ingot. When she sees it is properly folded, she divides it in half, and begins to form each blade precisely with her smaller hammer. Two Mandalorians, forged into one soul and body by marriage, whether they are together, or they are apart. Two blades, made from a single piece of steel, to symbolize that union. When they are formed to her satisfaction, she takes the blades to the oil vat and quenches them, a satisfying hiss escaping the bubbling liquid.

Then she returns to the forge, narrowing one of the flames to begin the differential tempering process. Here, the tang and the edges of the blades will be hardened to resist shattering, yet the spines will remain flexible, so that they may flex as needed. Once joined, the couple hardens themselves to outsiders; instead, they will turn their affection and respect inward, so they may grow together. Where one is brittle, the other is flexible, and together, they become stronger than they would be individually. She withdraws the first blade from the flame just as the pale amber color creeps to the edges of the blade and plunges it directly into the water bath to cool.

It takes hours to sharpen the ceremonial blades on the grinding belts, but she works steadily and carefully, honing the edges with precision. The hilts are left bare; they will be wrapped by the parties entering the marriage. When they speak their vows, they will exchange blades, so they may carry a piece of the other with them when they are physically parted. She nestles the blades into separate boxes lined with soft fabric. When she delivers the blades tonight, the newlyweds will handle the rest on their own. Armorer lowers the heat of the flame before she returns to her quarters. There she draws the curtain across her living space. Exhaling, she takes a seat at her low table with a pot of hot tea to await being summoned by the Elders to acknowledge the vows. Her shoulders are tense and tight. It is a good sign of hard work.

It has been many years since she has witnessed a proper Mandalorian courtship unfold and blossom into marriage. The Armorer has known from the start that Paz would be the one to fully embrace the traditional ways. Now, he has chosen to make himself an example to the younger Mandalorians and enter the bonds of matrimony. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines the future progeny they will gift to the Tribe, whether they are born or found. However, she takes the time to close her eyes and pray to the spirits. The newlyweds will need guidance.

Hopefully, the wedding night will not result in nearly as much structural damage as the courtship had.

The first time Paz ever laid eyes upon you was shortly after the Armorer had finished negotiations to join with yours. It took nearly three weeks of negotiations, but your Tribe had ultimately yielded. No sane alor would turn away a dozen Hunters and their children, anyway. Paz admits that he did not find you all that impressive at first. You were – and still are - pretty average. Your armor at the time consisted of a bes’kar helmet and a steel chestplate that looked like the Armorer’s. Everything else was made of leather.

Tradesperson, he thought to himself, and he put you out of his mind.

As time went on, Paz came to like you, and even enjoy spending a few minutes with you here and there as his duties allowed. Even though you openly admitted that were an average warrior (at best), you did your job freakishly well. You had made your desire for a large family vocal, and that, combined with your skills, had caught the attention of several Hunters visiting to deliver the latest news. According to the Elders, the offers of marriage had come flooding in the instant you completed your first hunt, even though you hadn’t completed it until your twenty-third birthday.

When the average Mandalorian completed their first hunt by their nineteenth.

And Paz completed his on his seventeenth.

It didn’t take long for him to understand how you earned the loving-yet-frighteningly-accurate nickname shu’shika from the Tribe – you truly are a tiny disaster. You are dearly loved by your Tribe, but there is a tendency for things to break while you are around.

You are stubborn to a fault. That Paz can deal with. Over the past thirty or so years, he has had plenty of practice to out-stubborn his subordinates, and he always wins. The same holds true with his bounties. With you? There have been a few situations where he has come dangerously close to cracking and losing his temper. It is only your terrible self-defense skills and his affection for you that keep him from simply putting you in a headlock until you submit.

Paz sometimes wonders if you provoke him on purpose because you know he will not throw fists with someone who lacks proper training. He takes no pleasure in winning a fight if it was never a true fight to begin with.

Far too often, you get mouthy with him, to the point where he sometimes wants to grab you around the waist and launch you straight into the lake for being such a brat. You are never truly disrespectful, but you have no problem telling him what you think. Even when he does not ask for your opinion. He does, however, appreciate your honesty with him, since others are usually too intimidated by him to be as direct as you.

You’re kriffing fearless, to the point of recklessness. His threats to launch you into the lake have gone from true threats to playful teasing, and it always earns a laugh from you.

Your forgetfulness…it is truly obnoxious. At this point, he has stopped reminding you to pick up your shit. He has grown used to simply picking up your things off the floor (or the couch, or the tables, or the showers), stuffing them in a bag, and dumping it all on your table in the workshop. Just like everyone else in the Tribe does for you. Or, if he wants to see you, he will pocket your datapad until you come wandering into the common areas, and hand it over without a word. It never ceases to amaze you that Paz somehow seems to know exactly what you are looking for.

Paz has no doubts that if you ever set your bucket down, you will lose it. He kind of finds it endearing. But only from you. He has no problems holding armor, weapons, or personal property for ransom if some idiot leaves it unattended.

If there is even a single power cable in a wide-open room, you will invariably find it and trip over it. Stairs have to be clearly marked with vibrant tape to remind you of their existence even though they’ve been there for ten kriffing years. Your navigational skills are nonexistent. It is all Paz can do to refrain from simply attaching a tracker to your backside to keep you from getting lost whenever someone takes you to the market.

The first time he had taken you to the market, he lost you within forty-eight seconds. He panicked the entire time he looked for you. Fortunately, he found you trying to dig enough money out of your bag to buy some ice cream, with no regards as to how you were going to eat the kriffing ice cream with a damn bucket on your head.

Sometimes, Paz feels like his relationship with you is going to give him a full head of grey hair before his fiftieth birthday. But he thinks you are the most beautiful disaster he has ever seen in his life.

You get his dumb jokes and laugh at his silly puns. You let him steal the end pieces of the bread when you bake. You try so damn hard to improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, even when Doctor Shen threatens to tie you to a bed to keep you from hurting yourself. You turn to him first when you want to learn a new technique. You play hunters-and-prey with the children for hours, like you don’t care that the others are grumbling about you spoiling the kids. You listen to him ramble about whatever random topic he has picked up that week, and while you may not know anything about it, you ask questions and take the time to learn more about what makes him happy. You even offer to share your tiingilar with him, even when you only have a quarter ration of it.

He has spent most of his forty-four years alone in life. His eight-year relationship had ended exactly ten years ago when his partner chose to commit adultery. He was on the verge of proposing marriage when he caught them in his bed. Neither had been wearing their helmet. It was a privilege his partner had never granted him, even after nearly a decade together. After that gut-wrenching betrayal, something had shattered in him. Paz invested himself in his work fervently, his bitterness turning him away from the possibility of a long-term relationship. Now that he is older and wiser, he feels a sort of emptiness to his days. Like his successes mean nothing without having someone to share them with. He wants someone there to encourage and support him in his hunts. Someone who is not as cynical and burnt out from the constant threat of death and war. Someone who still has that shereshoya – that Mandalorian lust for each new day and every experience that it brings. That brightness in your soul draws him to you like a moth to the flame. It is your hidden gentility that has him so happily trapped in your orbit.

He wants to make you strong where you are weak.

He wants you to make him strong where he is weak.

Seeing you waiting for him at the shooting range brings a spring to his step. Hearing your laughter at one of his awful jokes makes him glad he wears a helmet so no one can see the ridiculous grin on his face. Smelling the sweet, flowery soap that you use makes his knees go all wobbly, though he’s not sure if it’s from affection or just from age. Just feeling your hand brush up against his makes him turn into a sweaty, flushed mess.

Paz Vizla feels like he’s strapped to the wing of a TIE fighter spinning out of control as it plummets to the ground below, or something like a fully-grown rath’tar has wrapped itself around his heart to squeeze. His belly is jam-packed with spice-crazed minochs and his heart is pounding wildly. When he thinks about kissing you one day, maybe just gently pressing his helmet against yours, his heart gets so full he can barely breathe.

You make him Feel Things he has never felt before.

Paz Vizla turns into a hot kriffing mess under his armor when he is around you, and he wants off this malfunctioning jetpack.

Feel free to leave comments, concerns, or critiques. I love all sorts of feedback <3

#star wars #the mandalorian #paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #romance #humor #the armorer #din djarin #original characters #tailor's world #tv: the mandalorian #paz vizsla x f!reader #paz vizla x f!reader #tailor writes #series: a proper mandalorian courtship

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padme-parker · 4 years

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Collide / Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Chapter 5)

[a Star Wars x Avengers crossover]

Summary: Anakin realizes that he is falling for you, hard. He doesn’t want to hurt Padme, so instead, he distances himself from you.

Warnings: a couple of curse words, mentions of cheating, my writing

WC: 2.3k

A/N: Initially this was supposed to be ch 4.5 cause I started writing this when I was halfway thru with the original ch 5. but shit happens so here we are. p.s. I pulled this out of my ass so sorry if its bad.

read chapter 4 here

“took a minute, but I figured it out. The problem with me is you.” - Problem With You by Sabrina Claudio

You practically bolted out of the ship once Anakin landed it, not wanting to face the consequences of your actions. It was stupid really, pining after someone you couldn’t have. I shouldn’t have reciprocated his kiss. The thought of it alone was selfish, stealing away the husband and soon-to-be father from Padme. Your task was to save the universe, by any means necessary. Well, Fury did suggest that I get close to him. But he also said to not do anything to drastically change their timeline. But it just doesn’t make sense. How was I supposed to befriend him without changing the timeline? For all I know, my arrival here has already severely altered their timeline.

You went to your room while Obi wan and Yoda went to a meeting, Anakin was nowhere to be found. You sat yourself on the edge of your bed, hands roughly combing through your hair. All you wanted for Anakin was from him to be happy. Of course, you could accept the fact that maybe it wouldn’t have anything to do with you, if only that were true. In the short time you’ve been on Coruscant, you’ve noticed something change in him. But you didn’t know him, the real him. The only version of him that you knew was the one that existed on screen; The one who loved his wife so much, that he turned his back on the ones he loved the most to save her. Only to ultimately lead her to her demise.

The Anakin you were getting to know was different, in a good way, yet he was still so complicated. After training, you would eat together, whether it was in the cantina or at Dex’s, it was always the two of you. Some nights, he would come to your room to talk. And you let him. You let him rant about how unfair the council was, the pressure of being the chosen one- whatever he had to say, you listened to him. He did his best to express his emotions to you, but still got overwhelmed by them. At times, neither of you knew what to do. So you both sat in a comfortable silence, the mere presence of each other was enough for the both of you. Sometimes the two of you sat outside of the temple, watching the sunset as the nightlife emerged. Other times you would sit outside in the garden, meditating together. You’ve gotten to see the side of Anakin that no one really knew. Well besides Obi wan, Ahsoka, and Padme. You have yet to meet Padme., only hearing whispers of her from the other Jedi.

While you did train under Obi wan and Anakin, you rarely got to see Ahsoka. After coming to Coruscant, she became Plo Koon’s temporary padawan so that Anakin didn’t have to train the two of you at the same time. Although it wasn’t the same as completely leaving the Jedi Order, you could tell how much it affected Anakin. As you sat on your bed you couldn’t help the question that came to your mind. When it comes down to it, will I be the reason he falls?

Anakin is already in the room when you show up for training. There are no remarks or comebacks made as the two of you prep, just pure silence. Silence, was something that you hated. It was different from the sunset-watching silence you always shared. This was tense, heavy, and just straight up unbearable. Your movements were awkward as you took out your lightsaber and got into a fighting stance.

“So who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?” You said, breaking the silence, not realizing you had just quoted Poe.

Anakin glares at you before responding, “There’s nothing to talk about.” He ignites his lightsaber and stalks towards you.

“Oh come on, don’t pretend like yesterday didn’t happen.” You replied, gripping your lightsaber in both hands as you ignited it.

“I’d rather not think about it. Now be quiet and focus.” He said, swinging his saber only for you to block his attack. You complied and trained with him in silence, save for the occasional grunt that you let out.

As the minutes passed, you grew more tired as Anakin’s actions became assertive. He began swinging his saber more aggressively, the pace so fast you almost couldn’t keep up. He was going to back you into the corner if he didn’t stop.

“Anakin, stop!” You pleaded. Your words seemed to have no effect on him as he continued, his eyebrows scrunching together as he knocked your saber out of your hand. He raises his lightsaber, ready to strike you down. With no weapon in hand and no way out, you use the force to push him back.

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?” You screamed at him once he was a good feet away from you.

Anakin wanted to tell you the truth. That loving you was his problem. That with each passing day, the feelings he had felt so many years for Padme, had nearly diminished. With your arrival, it felt like he had been reborn. He began to see life in a new light, maybe even cherished it more. And deep down, he knew that you were always meant to be his, and he was always meant to be yours. At night he would lie awake thinking of you, of what your lives could’ve been like together. Oh, how he would curse and scream at the stars for this twisted fate. But Anakin knew that he couldn’t be with you, no matter how much he wanted you.

He hated himself for being unfaithful to Padme, and in return he directed his internalized anger towards you, the source of his problems.

“You. Are. My. Problem.” He said, accusingly pointing his finger at you whilst stepping closer with each word he said.

“ME? I’m your problem?”

“Yes, you!.” He replied, pausing while trying to think of something to say. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it isn’t going to work. You’re trying to stray me away from my path. I will not indulge in your activities. I am loyal to the Jedi Order and my duties.” Anakin felt bad, he truly did. He didn’t want to lead you on, but it seemed like it was already too late.

“You're the one who kissed me!” How ironic, he’s only loyal to the Jedi, but apparently not to his wife.

“Because you seduced me!” He countered.

“I did no such thing.” You replied. “It wasn’t my fault that you saw me swinging my saber and got turned on. That’s on you Anakin. Also, if you have so many problems with training me, why don’t you ask the Council to swap you out for someone else?”

He opens his mouth, as if he’s going to reply, but it quickly shuts.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You pick up your saber and exit the training room.

Now alone, he lays on the floor, with his limbs sprawled out while mindlessly staring at the ceiling. He knows that he’s just ruined every chance, no matter how small or big, of being with you in the future. Anakin could only beg the makers that one day, some very distant day, or possibly in another life, that the two of you would’ve been together.

You waste no time calling Fury when you return to your room. The device takes a while trying to connect with FRIDAY back on Earth, but she alerts Fury, along with Tony and Peter, that they had an incoming call from you.

Three faces pop up onto the hologram, Peter was basically screaming at you. You quickly greeted him back before telling them what just happened, or well the shortened version of what happened.

“I fucked up.”

“What do you mean fucked up?” Tony asks.

“Okay, so Fury, you know how like you told me to get close to Anakin-- but not really that close. Just close enough so that he could y’know, slaughter his fellow Jedi and the younglings but not me. And then he would eventually become big bad Daddy- oops hehe, sorry I meant Darth. Darth Vader. And kill all of these people with his extremely cool but extremely dangerous weapon. But not close enough that it would alter their timeline. Which doesn’t really make sense if you think about it. Like how do I get close to him without getting close to him, y’know? Also how am I supposed to know where Thanos-'' Your rambling gets cut off by Fury.

“Get to the point.” He says.

“Right…. so…. like I said, I did something and I fucked up. He basically wants nothing to do with me now.” You replied.

“I don’t care. Do whatever you need to do to get back on his good side. Use one of those mind tricks you learned if you need to.”

“Those won’t work on him.” You sighed, your body hunched over as you tried to think of possible solutions.

“Then do what you need to, or else I’ll be forced to take you off the mission. I don’t want to repeat myself again” Fury hands the device to Tony, “I’ll give you some time to speak with her. But I expect a plan the next time you call.” He says before leaving the room.

“So, how’s life over there treating you, Star?” Tony asks. “What happened between you and.. what do you call him? Flyguy? No, umm-”

“Listen, I don’t really want to talk about it. But besides that, it’s been okay. Not really different from back home. I wake up, eat, train, eat, explore, eat again, then go to sleep. Basically the same routine. The food here is alright, nothing compared to what I was eating back at home. But I’m grateful that they're giving me food and shelter.” The rest of your night was filled with chatter and laughter, the previous events from the grueling day slowly drifting away from your mind.

It’s been two weeks since Anakin had confronted you, and almost nothing had changed. Well except for those couple of days where you thought he had taken up on your suggestion, only for him to show up for a day of training then leave again. The first day he was gone, you thought nothing of it. Only that he might’ve needed some space. But another day passed and there was still no contact from him. Of course you could’ve taken this issue up to the Jedi Council, but what were they going to do? Offer to switch out Anakin for a Jedi Master? No, you wouldn't allow that to happen. Instead you tried to reach out to him using the bond you two shared, only to find yourself blocked off from the connection.

Without Anakin by your side, it felt as though you became vulnerable to your emotions and the dark side. More specifically, you could feel someone lingering in your head. It certainly wasn’t Anakin. This person, the force around them was dark. They commanded respect, power, and fear. The day they intruded your head was the very day you began having nightmares.

Your body was sprawled on the ground, as if someone had pushed you back. The ground is hardened, it makes you let out a groan. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you noticed the two figures in the distance. You could only see them below their collarbones, their faces were blurred.

One of them wore a dark robe while the other was wearing ordinary civilian clothing. It seemed like the two of them were arguing, particularly, they were arguing about you.

“You will not take her from me!” The man in the robe declared.

“She was never yours.” The other man calmly replied, his hands held up showing he did not want to fight, hoping the robed man would comply. He doesn’t, instead he stretches out his hand, using the force to bring the man into his grasp. He turns around the civilian, so that they are both facing you, and forces him to his knees.

“If I can’t have her, then you can’t either.” It was like time began to slow as he said those words. You could hear yourself sharply intake air as the man takes out his saber. All life around you goes to a standstill as you see a red light illuminate your surroundings, a blade protruding from the man's lower stomach. The sound of your own blood pumping is loud, but not as loud as the gasps emitting from the wounded man.

“KAZ!” You screamed, calling out for the man. It was then you realized that this person wasn’t you. You certainly didn’t know anyone with that name. Or perhaps this was someone you had yet to meet.

The robed figure retracts his saber, Kaz’s body falling in front of him. If you acted quickly, you could retrieve his body and save him.

“You see, Kaz. My intention from the beginning was to kill you. However, I think I’d like to watch you suffer instead.” That voice, it sounded so familiar, yet you couldn’t place your finger on who it was.

“What do you mean?” Kaz uttered weakly.

The man gave no response, only a glance towards Kaz before he began making his way towards you.

“No, stay away from her!” He pleaded.

The glow of his red saber became more clear then closer he got to you. The last thing you see is his saber coming your way before everything fades to black.

That night, you woke up drenched in sweat and panting as if you had just ran a marathon. If there was one thing that you understood, it was the fact that the force didn’t want you here. Your destiny was supposed to be fulfilled on Earth. Only time could tell you the consequences for trying to interfere. But you didn’t care, you were going to do whatever you could to save your friends.

Read chapter 6 here

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tags are open :P

#Anakin #Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #Anakin Skywalker x Padme Amidala #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #Nick Fury #Avengers #spiderman #MCU #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #star wars x avengers

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 12: Definitely Broken Something

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 12. There are certain things about his time on Dragon's Edge that Hiccup doesn't want his father to know. The Dragon Riders think otherwise and what is supposed to be an effort to help their friend leads to friction instead.

NOTE: Nothing explicit happens in the fic. The non-con elements are referenced and implied, little is stated literally.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut

Pairing: None

Words: 3 151

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: "Broken Down” + “Broken Trust”

Whumpee: Hiccup + The Gang

Author’s Notes: Kinda nervous to post this one because I don't really delve into this particular territory. That and a little nervous that Hiccup will be way too out of character.

Also had to choose between this idea and another one that also involves the Riders breaking Hiccup's trust, but I think I'll be writing that one someday in the future.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Extra Author’s Notes: What Astrid is talking about is actually a reference to a previous fic of mine that I wrote a long time ago by now.

It talks about the event during Midnight Scrum that is brought up in this fic.

Ao3: Actual Fic

Ao3: Midnight Scrum Fic

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"So, we're really doing this?" Tuffnut's question hangs in the air as an uncomfortable silence weighs on the shoulders of ever Rider present in the clubhouse. That being every Rider except for Hiccup, who is up in his forge and not a part of this conversation.

He doesn't even know they're all gathered here, believing them to be doing their own thing.

Toothless, however, has taken a brief break from his human to be present. There are certain concerns the Dragon Riders have that they wanted to discuss. And with their close bond, it seems right to have him here as well.

The Night Fury looks almost uncannily human the way he's sitting on his hind legs, his forelegs crossed on the table between the six of them, and his head resting on top of them.

He doesn't like being here, but after the past week, he agreed to come when Astrid managed to tear him away from Hiccup.

A week ago, they'd been captured by Viggo. It was one of many times, too many times, more then they'd like to admit. And just like with every other time they've been at the hands of Viggo Grimborn nowadays, Hiccup tends to be affected for days afterward.

They all are in one way or another, of course. Being captured, having your friends captured with you, and not know what's about to happen to any of you is a terrifying thing. Despite their tendency to survive the unsurvivable and get out of every nasty situation, they get in somehow, getting captured is something that will never stop being a scary thing.

But once they get out, what they usually suffer from the most is a hurt pride, a sleepless night or two, a feeling of powerlessness that is soon overtaken by the need to do better and finally best the Dragon Hunters once and for all.

And then there is Hiccup and the way he behaves after a private audience with the Hunter Chief himself because Viggo rarely lets him stay with his friends. Whenever he gets his hands on him, he never fails to separate Hiccup from them.

Whatever goes on when the door to Viggo's cabin closes is a gap in their knowledge that only their imagination can fill. And seeing the way Hiccup acts afterward, what they imagine isn't nice.

He jumps at shadows, he's so tense you can see his muscles growing stiff from being overworked. The natural way the Dragons and Riders alike touch each other is no longer wanted. At least, no longer from the latter. One time it even got to the point that Hiccup was reluctant to let Fishlegs take a look at a rather nasty bruise on his side that worried them, not wanting to be touched by anyone. That he refuses to speak about anything that happens when it's just him and Viggo doesn't sit well with them either.

This time it's particularly bad as he's barely getting any sleep, he's not eating, he keeps looking over his shoulder, and he's well on his way to work himself to death. The worst part about this? This isn't even the worst Hiccup's been.

There is this one moment, it happened after Hiccup had been kidnapped for the bounty on his head, Astrid only knows about it because Heather told her and then she ended up telling the Riders. They don't like to even think about it.

So the Riders have decided that enough is enough and that is why they have gathered here tonight. For Hiccup's well-being, they have decided, unanimously, to tell Stoick.

Hiccup doesn't want his father to know and he's not going to be happy when they tell him, but they feel like they have little choice.

The Viggo obsession was already bad enough, but with every capture, Hiccup is worse off. It's gotten to the point that Hiccup would rather choose death than be captured again if he had been given a choice.

That is a terrifying thought. So naturally, they want any and all help they can get to keep that from happening, and who better to help than Hiccup's own father?

They've discussed this decision, quietly, they've come to an accord, and now they sit in silence while the past half an hour slowly sinks in.

Tuffnut's question; "we're really doing this?" are the first words spoken in the past five minutes. That they have been quiet for that entire time is an accomplishment for a group as talkative as theirs.

There is no answer because they all know that it remains the same. They are doing this. Stoick might not take it well, Hiccup certainly won't appreciate it, but they are still doing this. They have to. For Hiccup's sake, they have to.

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They told him. They told Stoick the Vast the one thing his son has been keeping from him. It went... better than they expected it to go.

They'd expected him to shout, to scream, go on an angry tirade about Viggo Grimborn and his son and about what he would do to the former for hurting the latter.

Instead, Stoick had sat there in his chair and listened to every word they had to tell him. He was strangely calm, more than they would ever imagine him to be. Considering his temper and his love for his son, it was truly bewildering to see him take everything so... well?

That is the only word they can use for the way their Chief reacted to the information given to him. And it wasn't even given to him by his son, but by his son's friends a little over three hours ago now. Although, it could very well be the calm before the storm that they dealt with. The shock may have even kept him from taking it all in, maybe it all still needed to sink in.

When he dismissed them, though, Astrid had taken a look back to find the mountainous man sink in his chair. The news had hit hard, despite Stoick's calm reaction, and he'd covered his face with a big hand as he seemingly and quietly collapsed.

They're all in the former Dragon Academy now.

"You know, I think he took it well." Snotlout breaks the silence as he brushes Hookfang's scales. Nightmares can set themselves on fire on command due to their flammable saliva, which coats their entire bodies. It helps to get old gel off their hides so an entirely new layer can take its place. The dragon is thoroughly enjoying this pampering.

"Yeah, I suppose. Stoick usually gets so angry so easily, I was afraid he would explode right then and there." Fishlegs responds, thinking back to how nervous he'd been before the talk. He's sitting on a stool with Meatlug's saddle on his lap as he polishes it and keeps the leather fed.

"I think what we really need to worry about is him exploding on Hiccup." Astrid joins in on the conversation as she helps Stormfly preen. It goes a little quiet again after that. For at least a good couple of moments.

"But he won't, right? Stoick knows none of that is Hiccup's fault, so he won't get angry! Right?" Tuffnut asks hopefully. His sister shares his worries.

"Well, only one way to find out," Ruffnut speaks up as well, voice going softer as her eyes fall on the gate leading out of the dragon training ring.

They all look over and see Hiccup coming down with Toothless following close behind. Just from the way he walks they can tell he's angry.

The Dragon Riders share a look and the Riders approach to meet him halfway, hearts pounding with anxiety. They've dealt with Hiccup angry before, but they can tell from his expression that this is something entirely different.

"Hey Hiccup, did you see your-"

"Oh, I saw him alright. Went in right after you guys left, which I thought was suspicious because what was your business with my father? Can't believe I was actually right to be worried, you guys... you guys... I believe any of you!" Hiccup cuts off whoever it is that attempts to talk to him, something he already doesn't do often. His voice trails off after it is already threatening to rise in volume and the pacing starts.

The Riders share another look. This already doesn't look like it's going to be pleasant, but hopefully, it won't be too bad.

"He interrogated me for the past three hours! Three hours! Asking ridiculous things like "what did he say?", "has he ever made you feel a certain way", "did he touch you?", "did he ever try to force..." Hiccup's fists tighten at the mention of the questions he needed to endure. He's angry. He's so, so angry. He throws his fists down, frustrated with the lack of relief.

"Thanks a lot for that, by the way. For not just breaking my trust, but telling my dad of all people!" He stills as he gives them his false gratitude, glaring at them. The kind of questions his father asked him over and over and over again... Sometimes he just used a different kind of wording to still trick him to get a confession out of him.

"Did he ever make you do things against your will?"

"Did he ask for certain things in trade?"

"How far did he get?"

It's all too much for him to bear. His dad was never supposed to know! His friends were never even supposed to know.

He has to pace, he's too restless to stand still.

It's humiliating, that's what it is. This is something between him and Viggo. His father has no business knowing any of this. And so it turns out, neither do his Riders.

"We're breaking your trust?" Fishlegs asks, hating the sound of that. If there is something even worse than disappointing Hiccup, it's tainting his trust in you.

Hiccup briefly looks at him, contemplating if he should answer.

This is, was, a purely private matter. There is such emotion in his eyes, tears mixed with boiling anger. The former he refuses to show. They can all see the tension in his face as he tries to hide them.

"I can't believe that you guys would conspire against me like that!" He tells them with a finger up in disbelieve, his voice unnervingly soft.

The Riders' eyes nearly bulge out of their skulls.

"Conspire?!"

"Why phrase it like that?"

"Hiccup, we aren't doing this to hurt you."

The amount of protests almost makes it impossible for anyone to hear what anyone is saying and who's saying it.

"Than tell me why it feels that way? This was private and I told you guys to leave it alone, that I would deal with this myself, that my dad never needed to know, and what did you do?!" He raises his voice, throwing a hand up.

"Hiccup, we really weren't trying to hurt you. We thought it would be for the best if your dad knew what was going on with you." Astrid comes forward, wants to place a hand on his shoulder, but Hiccup shrugs it off, and goes back to pacing.

"I worked so hard to get to where I am now. To have this relationship with him and you guys know this and you just went and-" He stops himself, fists balling in frustration. The pacing, the balling, the wild gestures, he can't stop repeating them, it's like he's stuck in a loop that he can't escape from.

They could've destroyed everything. Everything he's done the past three years, everything he's achieved, they could've ruined it all just because Viggo is a little too creepy with their leader for their liking. The good reputation he has in his father's eyes, his father's trust in him, their entire relationship! Everything that he finally has after it was denied for so many years and they don't even realize it.

How can he still trust them after this? With anything? His want to cry grows, these people are supposed to be his friends.

The Dragon Riders watch him pace, watch him have the closest thing to a mental breakdown as he walks nervous circles before them. No energy and yet at the same time too restless and angry to stand still.

Seeing that he may need to intervene, Toothless coos at him, daring a few steps forward, but Hiccup wants little to do with him at the moment, too.

"Oh, don't even try, you knew! You knew what they were planning and you let it happen!" With an upset rumble, Toothless backs away. He knew Hiccup would be angry, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt.

Toothless knows Hiccup won't hate him, their bond is simply too unbreakable for that, but that look of betrayal is more than he can bear.

The Night Fury tried to keep him from going in before he managed to slip past. He knows exactly what Stoick has been told and this is how Hiccup knows he knows.

"What did you tell him?" Fishlegs asks carefully, as if any of them even want to know.

"What do you think, Fishlegs? The truth!"

"How did he take it-"

"-That you guys were seeing things and that I'm just stressed out." As Hiccup adds that before they can finish asking, the Riders are given a second surprise this late afternoon.

"You told him what?" Ruffnut asks, dumbfounded.

"Dude, did you... Did you gaslight us in front of your dad?" Snotlout has a hard time formulating his question, but he's the only one who dares ask. It seems too crazy to even think about.

No one has ever seen this side of Hiccup before, has ever even thought him capable of such a thing, but apparently, reality is indeed stranger than fiction.

"Well, what other choice did I have? Tell him that everything you told him was true? Which it isn't, by the way. Viggo's implied some things, nothing more!" There he goes with another wild gesture. They don't believe his claim that it's all just words, but they also have no prove, Hiccup hasn't told them anything, after all.

"But it's enough to hurt you! We've all seen it, Hiccup!" Astrid tries to argue, emphasis on "tries".

"No, you haven't! What you guys have been seeing is stress! Stress because I want to beat him and be rid of the Dragon Hunters! That's all! Why can you guys see that?" He asks. Why can't they?! That's all it is!

"Hiccup, you don't eat, you don't sleep, you jump at the smallest of things-"

"Stress!"

"Sometimes you can't stand being in the same room as us because you're terrified of something you don't tell us about!"

"Stress!"

"Stress doesn't make you try to jump ship when your hands are tied and kill yourself!" Astrid, having had enough, snaps back. Her eyes are watery as well, well on their way to becoming red. She's choking up.

Hiccup stares at her, this time it's his turn to be in shock again. And looking at the others, he can see that they aren't surprised to hear her say that. They know.

So that explains why his dad tried to ask him if he had any "certain bad tendencies or bad thoughts". That's the way Gobber made him word it because, oh yes, his other father figure was there, too. He'd come to welcome his student back when he caught him and Stoick in a heated talk.

This day couldn't get any worse.

"We know about it. Astrid got worried and-"

"And went behind my back apparently, I'm starting to see a pattern. Tell me, how does Heather come into all of this? Or is she the only one I can actually trust?" Hiccup cuts Snotlout off when he, for once, jumps to the shieldmaiden's defense. Nobody answers and he doesn't know if that's a yes or a no.

Astrid approaches.

"You know what, I'm done with this. We're not talking about this anymore. Not about Viggo, not about what happened on Savage's ship, we're not talking about anything." Hiccup cuts Astrid off, throwing his hands up as if in defeat. He rubs in his eyes, wiping some of the tears away.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have some damage control to do with my father. Because that is what happens when your best friends tell him something he was never meant to know." The truth is, he's ready to burst and he wants to be far away from him.

He wants to cry and shout and kick the nearest object to him, which so happens to be a barrel. And he's honestly not sure if he wants his Dragon Riders to see that after what they'd done.

They could've ruined him, could've finished digging the hole Viggo has begun to dig since the start of this war. If he doesn't fix their mess now, he might never recover.

And he doesn't want to go back to those days before Toothless, not for something as stupid as this.

With no more words needing to be said, the Riders certainly don't want to try anymore, Hiccup turns around and leaves. Toothless knows better than to follow him this time. He'll have to go to him eventually, they share a room. But for now, his human obviously needs his space.

They watch him go, hearts broken and bleeding. It is silent for a good while before someone dares to say something again.

"Well, that was...."

"Horrible? A disaster? Devastating?" Ruffnut finishes Snotlout's sentence, using all kinds of words to describe what this exchange had been like to them.

"Yeah,"

Fishlegs approaches Astrid and lays a hand on her shoulder. She's trying to suppress her tears, they all are, though Fishlegs and Tuffnut are failing to do so.

"Hey, huh, we're going to be okay, right?" He asks with genuine worry that this may cause a rift between them and Hiccup.

There was one before, they would rather not have it there again.

Astrid looks at him, but doesn't respond.

"Of course we're going to be okay! This is Hiccup we're talking about! He's the most forgiving person ever. We'll talk about it again, he'll understand our side, and then its bygones are bygones." Snotlout doesn't sound as hopeful as he's trying to make his words to sound like.

"That's not how that saying goes..." Fishlegs mutters.

It grows quiet again and the Dragons go to their respective Riders, but which side has to comfort which is up for debate.

Hiccup's words that afternoon hurt them, but then, so had their decision to go behind his back to reveal sensitive information to the center of that information's father. It was all without his consent.

Whether they are going to be okay, is something only time can tell.

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fiction-in-my-blood · 4 years

Text

The Bewitching Hour Part 1 (SITS Smut) Kyohei x MC

I’m thinking of turning this into a series with all the guys in it, so if you enjoy, stay tuned :)!

Warnings: Fingering, Sex

~~~~~~

Work had been trouble lately. Not only was the ghostwriter severely struggling with doing her own job, a lot of the Revance members were on edge because of it. Takashi’s Demon Mode had been making more frequent appearances and many worried for their own safety, few also worrying for the only woman in the house. Not only that, The morning the producer woke up, there was a stranger in their kitchen.

“Who the hell are you and how did ya get in my house?” Kyohei roared at the half naked, rejectfully majestic man that stood at his fridge, peering at the contents like they were going to put themselves together for his breakfast. The man didn’t seem much phased by the shock of one of the inhabitants of the house that wasn’t his, he found it amusing, that showed on the smirky, mysterious grin that appeared on his face when he turned around.

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it, I spent the night.” The admission did nothing to ease Sir Kyo’s suspicion, instead making him more pissed off in the early hour. No one would be a morning person if this is what they had to deal with first thing.

However, before he could argue, demanding him to explain, a high whine came from the far end of the room. “Mitsu~, I told you not to come down until I was ready.” The strangely provacative yet shy call of the young woman, merely dressed in an overbearing sweater and shorts, hair a mess after the activities she had partaken in the past night, shocked the other resident.

“But, my dear, you were taking too long. I was getting a different type of hungry.” The man, surely older than her but a gentlemanly youth about him, cooed, a teasing smirk forming on his lips as he remembered what he had been hungry for only a few hours before this conversation. Masami blushed.

“They call it a walk of shame for a reason, Mistu. Get your stuff before anyone else wakes up.” She crossed her arms in defiance, the brunt of her configuration halted by the notebook she held in one hand. Kyohei recognised it as her writing journal.

“Okay, I guess I can get dressed. Unless you want to keep something for future uses?” The man with fair hair long enough to be pulled back into a long pontail sauntered over to the ghostwriter, leaning over her to steal her lips. Before he could catch them, however, he was blocked by a wad of paper.

“No kissing, Mitsu. It’s in the agreement.” She sighed, almost exhausted with having to remind him all the time. The roll of her innocent eyes didn’t go unnoticed by the slightly distracted producer.

“Hello. What the hell is going on here?” A little pissed with having such a rude introduction, Kyohei made himself known to the couple. The fact he would soon learn about some of her stress relieving habits brought a blush to Masami’s cheeks, trying to hide them with her hand as Mitsu chuckled to himself beside her.

“I-I have those lyrics done, Kyohei. Read through them when you’re ready!” The ball of red quickly made her exit after slapping her notebook on the coffee table in the living area. Mitsu couldn’t help but enjoy the sight Kyohei would usually also be happy to see.

“There’s nothing to fear, sir. Just a trade in professions. You may like the use my services too one day.” With the way Mitsu’s been acting in this extraordinary scenario, Kyohei couldn’t tell what he was suggesting. What was this man’s profession and what did it have to do with Masami?

“If you’d like to see my portfolio, I’d love to comission if you find it desirable.” Only now did Kyohei spot the large art pad held to Mitsu’s body with his arm as he continued to rest his hands in his pockets.

“You’re an artist?” Kyohei, significantly cooled compared to moments ago, grew slightly curious to the man’s offer.

“And Miss Mami is my muse, and I her’s. We arranged it years ago.” The nickname rolled off with such ease it showed how close the two must be. Kyohei almost felt jealous just talking to the man.

“Show me.” He demanded, wanting more to see what had impressed the girl so much to have the obvious relationship they had together. This made that mirthful chuckle reverberate from Mitsu’s chest once again. Despite the clear irritation on the producer’s face, he placed his sketchpad on the kitchen counter and opened it up. Kyohei’s eyes went wide at the images before him.

Pages upon pages of naked women, mostly Masami, framed in comprimising positions, always a lewd look in their eyes. The drawings seemed so realistic, Kyohei almost felt like he was there when it was created, even if they were just sketches- mainly black and white. The one that really caught his eye was the masterpiece on the back page. It was Masami, on her back with her knees pressed to her chest, feet up and vulva on full display. He looked away, an intolerant blush surfacing on his cheeks.

“I’ll say, my most recent piece is my favourite. Masami surely was in her creative flow last night.” A look of pure pride overtook what his usual expression seemed to be as he gazed upon the picture of his business partner. She seemed too innocent most of the time, it was only Mitsu who ever got to see this side of her.

“Creative flow?” Kyohei was drawn by the odd explanation for such a drawing, his gaze following the man as he ripped the page out with little regard to his other pieces.

“You don’t know of her Bewitching Hour? And how long has she lived here?” A tone of pity mixed with amusement filtered out of his mouth as he placed the sheet of paper on the counter before closing his book once again.

“Like any woman, Masami is a powerful being. Sometimes her talent gets too much for her and she can’t seem to let it out at all. She gets so pent up sometimes, I’m man enough to admit even I can’t satiate her creativity.” Mitsu laughed on the memory of an irritated Masami climbing off his lap with a heavy sigh of not being able to pleasure herself with his body. He didn’t mind, he had those nights too, it was the joy of their agreement that made him so confident in his abilities.

“But what’s a Bewitching Hour?” Kyohei was beyong interest by now. For months he had wanted to her his hands on the innocent cutie that lived under his roof. This might finally be his chance.

“It’s just my term for it. She does her best work, in the bedroom and in her songs, at night. The only way she can filter her ideas is in the act, as one would say. On nights I can’t get to her, she’ll desperately play piano. I’ve never heard it myself, but I’m sure its beautiful.” A mesmerised look drifts into Mitsu’s eyes as he imagines all the dirty scenarios he could get into if he could just catch her off guard in one of her musical trances.

“Remember, if you ever hear music in the dead of night, the Bewitching Hour has begun.”

~~~~~~

Several days after the mysterious and mature artist escaped the Revance home without being spotted by any other members, Kyohei has gotten very little sleep. Mostly from anticipation to hear any type of tune drifting through the halls and some due to the thoughts that clouded his brain. How would he initiate such an occasion? Were her trances even a thing? Would it be right to take advantage of that to experience the feelings he’s been waiting so long to feel? Maybe yes, maybe no. It all depended on her, really. If he showed up, made himself known, and she just happened to jump on him, he wouldn’t stop her. Even if she needed a little coaxing, he would be happy to take the place of her muse if for a night. He just wanted to encounter what he had heard, and seen in still images, was so magical.

Then, on one fateful night, a jolly tune bounced in the distance and Kyohei shot up in bed. Where or who it was coming from didn’t matter as long as who it was he hoped it would be. He grabbed a shirt just in case this didn’t turn out how he had hoped and stormed out the door.

In the hallways, following the strangely enticing sound to what must have been from the recording studio, the darkness and tune was a little eery. It was upbeat and fun, but the emptiness of the halls and the hyperawareness that everyone was asleep made a suspicious shiver run up Kyohei’s spine. Please, please don’t let this be Takashi.

Sure enough, through the door that was standing open, was a risquely dressed woman, her fingers jumping along the keys of the keyboard in their in-home recording studio. She was in her pyjamas, a worn tank top that must have been from her teenage years from the cute character on the front and shorts of a different design but just as old. Her hair was up in a rushed bun, sagging to the side when she tilted her head in frustration. Her ideas weren’t flowing the way she wanted them to and Mitsu was in Osaka for an art showing. She had no other outlets.

Except for the man that now stood directly behind her. She didn’t notice him at first, too wound up in her musical whimsy until she felt a warm pressure on her shoulders. She jumped, the electric instrument groaning with a clatter of keys as her fingers slammed down at the unexpected sensation.

“So tense. You need to relax if you want to get your work done in time not to get punished.” A tone she was all too used to breathed on her ear as Kyohei leaned over head, the feeling of his erection pressing into her back. Not that she could feel it, she was too stunned as to why he was here and too busy trying to bay her urges. No matter who it was, she would go for anyone in this state. Before she had met Mitsu, she would go on the prowl in less that suitable establishments, usually mistaken for a prostitute, even though she was the most dressed person on the whole block. Although, it didn’t matter to her, she usually got what she needed.

“Help me then.” The demanding tone spurred Kyohei on, the stern look making him chuckle. She looked as frustrated as Mitsu had made her sound and that led him to believed that this could happen. That he could get what he want. What they both wanted- for whatever different reasons.

Slowly but directly, Kyohei’s fingers from one hand drifted over her bare skin, along her collarbone and arond her neck, making her look up at him by tugging lightly on it. From some of the sketches in Mitsu’s book, she liked and was a frequent user of positions like these. Masami gulped at the heat that suddenly flooded in her.

With that slightly startled but so heavily lustful look in her eyes, Kyohei continued, inching his other hand down her chest and under her top. She moaned the second he tweaked her nipple. Both of their hearts raced at this less than innocent act taking place in such a common area of their home. Masami didn’t think about it, too caught up in trying to filter through the words flying around in her head, but Kyohei was metaphorically shitting bricks. If someone came in, would it be his fault? Would she get angry? The sound of a whimper pulled him out of those thoughts though.

“K-Kyohei, ca-can you... Can you finger me?” The forwardness of Masami’s words and the pleading look in her eyes as he held her face up to meet his gaze caused a shot of arousal to fire through Kyohei’s body and he wasted very little time in pulling her up. He quickly looked around for a surface to lay her on, but there was only the couch and the office chair that didn’t have any important equipment on it, so he pushed her onto the ground, laying her legs over his as he leant over to her. His hand was no longer around her neck, instead both were either side of her head, holding himself up over her.

With her hair sprawled out around her, pale wrists settled close to were his hands were, eyes slightly wide at seeing him in this position and cheeks flushed with desperate but embarrassed need, Kyohei had never been more turned on by any other woman. Masami wasn’t anything special. She didn’t have the ‘perfect’ body or have the greatest make-up skills. She was slow and at times absent-minded, just like right now, she seemed to be concentrating on something else and Kyohei didn’t know that this was what she was usually like in the moment. She was concentrating on her lyrics.

But Kyohei didn’t want that. He wanted all thoughts on him.

So, sitting back onto his heels, he focused all of his attention to her lower half. Palms falling on her knees, which only now had he realised were slightly bruised and was sure they were from the last time she had done something like this, his hands crept up her legs. The warm sensation on her body, chilled by the cold room and limited clothing, sent an excited shiver through her- dispersing any thoughts of music to the side, just for now, just so something could make sense. There was Kyohei Rikudoh, having her straddle him while she was on her back, making his way to her nether region with a look that seemed a little too excited.

But, Masami didn’t have time to think that fact over as she felt some sort of pressure on her clit. She gasped out a moan as she looked down to see Kyohei’s thumb disappearing underneath the fabric of her shorts. The motions on her fastened the more she moaned but the second she got a little louder, it was gone.

But only for a moment. Masami was about to complain before she felt that same digit enter her fully. Although shorter and thinner than some men she’s had, Kyohei’s thumb worked wonders on the nerves that were building up in that area and the nerves that had been in her head for the past few hours. He enjoyed the silent gasping as he pressed in different directions before slipping out and replacing it with his middle finger, once again seeing that short burst of annoyance before her lips parted to take in enough air to remind herself to breath. He wanted so badly to trap those plump things under his, exploring her mouth like it was the Mariana Trench, so, he leaned in.

“No.” A muffled call escaped Masami’s lips as she covered them with her hand, protecting herself from his advances. He stopped his thrusting fingers, wondering if he had hurt her, but she shook her head.

“N-Not on the lips.” She stuttered, the darkest blush she’s had tonight ligthening her face as she kept her hand there. Kyohei was slightly confused, his brows frowning at the strange demand. She would let him fuck her, but she wouldn’t let him kiss her? Well, he knew she was strange, but he didn’t believe it when she had reprimanded Mitsu. He thought it was just because he was there.

“I-If that’s gonna be an issue for you...” Masami led off as she sat up, inched herself away the best she could to keep the distance away from their faces and his fingers, which he hadn’t realised where still in her, slipped out. She bit back a moan at that, too embarrassed and scared to have annoyed him to make a noise.��

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going to force you.” Kyohei smirked, wanting this more than he wanted to exercise each of his fantasifull whims. Masami’s shoulders eased at that and her gaze wondered down his body.

“Oh?” She muttered at the tent she saw pitched in his shorts. They were loose and thin, something like basketball wear, so she could definitely tell most of that height wasn’t material. She was in for a treat tonight.

With the tilt of her head, she reached forward, pulling down his waist band and helping his cock escape before he could say a word. To his surprise, he panicked as she grabbed it with such gentle fingers his hands flew behind him to keep himself upright. As her knees weren’t hooked over his anymore, she could sit on her own legs as Kyohei’s crossed his in front of him.

Masami knew what she was doing, she had a routine. Something she knew worked every other time she had done this act with someone new, so, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his dick before licking it.

“You’re rather forward, huh?” Kyohei tried to regain his usual composure as the petite woman before him hardened him so suddenly he worried there’d be no blood left in his skull. She looked up at that incredulous smirk and couldn’t help but blush as she realised what she was doing.

“I want this.” She replied bluntly, not blaming herself for her less than ordinary ways to relieve stress. She licked him one last time before she brought her lips right next to his ear, careful not to let go of his cock. “So, will you fuck me now, Sir Kyo?”

Her questioning tone was almost innocent if not for the words that spilled out of her mouth so easily. Kyohei felt something come over him, an all too familiar feeling of lust, and he pushed her back by her shoulders onto the floor where she had been moments ago. He pulled her shorts and panties off, all in one go, and threw them behind him without much care as to where they ended up.

“You came prepared?” Masami frowned her brows at the condom Kyohei pulled out of his pocket. She wasn’t mad, she was happy he had one, but it did confuse her. She didn’t really know he was aware of her trances.

“Always am, Miss Mami~.” Kyohei’s teasing tone, mimicking the voice of her usual muse, made the girl blush, covering her frown with the back of her hand as she laid there, waiting patiently. She looked too cute for what he was about to do to her.

“Shut up and help me.” She grumbled, reminding him why they were here in the first place, and Kyohei couldn’t help but chuckle. The two stayed in their separate states until Kyohei sharply entered her.

Both mind’s turned into a pleasured fog that distracted either side of this couple from the outside world. Not that anything was happening that they would need to look out for, everyone was asleep and Kyohei hade the foresight to close the door. This allowed them, mostly Masami, to moan to their heart’s content. She clutched the top that fluttered over her as Kyohei towered over, holding himself up with one hand and her right thigh with the other.

“K-Kyohei.” She gasped out, eyes half-lidded as she looked up at him as his hand massaged that part of her leg, waiting for her to be comfortable enough for him to move. He seemed pushy, but he did care, being the secretly thoughtful guy he was. The sound of his name told the producer he could start thrusting.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted as those movements pulled him out of the short but sweet trance he found himself in as he watched the young woman writhe beneath him distracted him from the tightness of her. How could a woman said to be so risque and ravaging seem so virginal?

“Y-You’re just big.” The comment made her blush and she pouted, momentarily preoccupied from the heavenly sensation slowly grinding into her.

“Don’t frown like that. I’m sure you’ve dreamt about this, haven’t you?” He drew even closer to her once again, propped on his elbows as he continued to thrust in and out of her, one hand holding her cheek. He was careful not to make it seem like he would try to kiss her.

The smugness of his tone and sudden hard pound of his hips made Masami’s hands fly down his torso to grip the skin of his behind, hoping it would spur him onto giving her more of that much needed pleasure. “K-Kyohei.” Her ideas were finally organising themselves. She was so close. All she needed was a little encouragement.

“Go on. Scream my name. I know you want to.” Even though his own breathing started to hasten, his heart racing and his words sometimes tripping over themselves, Kyohei tried to seem as cool as he usually was. But, the clawing feeling on his lower back and arching of her’s, pressing their bodies even closer together was just so erotic, he found his own thoughts becoming jumbled. There was so much he wanted to say, so many dirty things he wanted to whisper in her ear to make her blush harder, to stutter his name more, he couldn’t understand any of the words that threatened to spill out of his mouth. Something about loving something, but the shriek of the woman below him pulled his thoughts away from that strange sensation.

“K-Kyohei!” Arms flying up his body and around his neck, pulling him closer and her up so he could snake an arm around her, holding their bodies flush together, Masami couldn’t hold back anymore.

“More. Please. I need so much more!” She whimpered in his ear and he only just realised his thrusts had slowed while he was thinking. Then, one thought made sense. Flipping them over so he was on his back and Masami was sitting on his lap, his cock buried so deep inside her she was sure she must have been hollowed out by him, Kyohei smirked.

“Go on, do it yourself. Use me to inspire you.” Sitting, holding each other, his hand clutching the back of her hair so he could whisper in her ear without risk of her pulling back, Kyohei pulled as much out of her as he could. Albeit the ground prohibitted most of his movement. When he loosened his grip, Masami sat up, looking at him with another one of her cutely questioning expressions.

“How do you- Oh!” Masami gasped as he pushed her hips down, mainly to distract her from her question and also to pleasure himself. Her hands once again clenched the fabric on his chest and she subconsciously started bouncing up and down, the sound of skin hitting skin sounding between them. Heavy breathing, moans of each other’s names, and the smell of hot, sweaty sex filled the room. It was lucky they had good ventilation in here.

It didn’t take much longer for either to finish, coincidentally at the same time, and when they both felt each other’s releases, Masami collasped forward, landing on Kyohei’s chest with a soft thud. She was panting, her thighs aching slightly from the exercise, and Kyohei chuckled, his arms sprawled out either side of him. The two finally had a moment of silence...

...Until Masami jumped up, his penis sliding out of her but she didn’t seem to care much, and yanked her journal from the table she had been struggling over before he showed up. As if this hadn’t just happened, as if one of the most sort of bachelors at the moment wasn’t laying half-naked on the floor behind her, Masami started working. She started pouring her heart out onto the pages in front of her, making quick work of the song she had been struggling with for the past day and a half.

It couldn’t be hidden, Kyohei was a little pissed. He had just had one of the most amazing sex sessions he had ever experiences, and she was still able to make it to the desk chair and write? So, he got up, meaning to turn her around and pound her against that journal that seemed to occupy her thoughts, when she met his stern gaze with a delighted smile. He only now saw the slightly darkened rings under her eyes and, despite that, she still looked adorable.

“Thanks, Kyohei, you were a big help!” Masami cheered, slapping her book shut and standing up, only to find the two much closer than she had anticipated. Both their lower halves were completely on show, but she couldn’t let herself look down. She was beat but, most of all, she was able to write. She had been able to accompish what she set out to do.

Kyohei just chuckled at his own stupidity. He should have understood what Mitsu meant when she really did just use his body to satiate her creativity. This was just a trade in professions, a transferable muse and a writer, nothing more, nothing less.

“Call me if you need anymore help.” He winked, his smug smirk returning to his face as Masami blushed at the offer, turning to find her shorts, throwing them on and running out the door so she could finally get some much needed sleep. What neither of them had realised was the pair of panties, tucked behind a filing cabinet after Kyohei had carelessly thrown them over his shoulder.

#scandel in the spotlight #kyohei rikudoh #sits #voltage games #voltage fanfic #voltage smut

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Pureblood 14 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

Words: 2,576

Warnings: Violence/ Torture

Masterlist:

Chapter 13 // Chapter 15

‘Dear Remus:

The Christmas party wasn't as disastrous as I thought it would be, but it wasn't much fun either. I hope you’ve had something better.

Anyway, what I really wanted to tell you is the progress of the plan:

Regulus and Jenna heard my father talked about a minister who will marry us as soon as we graduate, he’s supposed to be a great friend of the family, although I never met him. The ceremony will be different from that of my older brothers. The men talked about a future change in the wizarding world. May have to do with what happened to me in the summer, I still don’t know the details, but the fact is that they’re in a hurry to get us married and unite the families.

The women talked about a huge dance where only the most important families are invited. I thought that with the Christmas party, all the presentations would end, but I was wrong. Jenna heard that even the Potters are invited.

I don't know which news makes me more nervous.

It's all we could get, I don't know what it can do, but I'm confident you can come up with something huge and cool– by the way, did you like the gift I sent you? I was planning to go buy that book myself in a Muggle town near my home, but I had to send the house elf, I hope you like it.

Merry Christmas, Wolfie.

P.S x

I put the letter in an envelope, walk to the window where Lif is, Jane and Apollo’s owl, I give her a snack and I give her the letter.

"With the Lupins, little Lif…” I pat her head and she flies off.

I decide to take a shower and change into a simple blue shirt and jeans. I leave my room and hear voices from the stairs.

"Enough Isis!"

"Who is Remus, my dear Juno?" Isis and Juno are at each end of the table. Juno looks furious, her face is red, unlike our older sister who has a huge smile. "Is anyone in love? You mention it too much in your journal…”

She says holding up a black notebook.

Wait a minute.

"Remus?" I ask drawing his attention. Juno bites her lip.

“It's not what it seems! It’s not Remus, Isis shouldn’t read my diary!”

"Did someone say Diary?" Balder comes to my side. Isis shares a look with our brother and throws the notebook at him, who catches him in the air and runs to the living room, Juno and Isis follow him and since I want to know what happens, I also run.

"I can't talk to him, I just can't, is too embarrassing," Balder recites in a high-pitched voice making us laugh. “What does Persephone have? I am much smarter than her– and interesting. I don’t get it!”

I turn to Juno and my smile disappears when I notice her watery eyes, and how she hugs herself.

"Hey, Bal, come on, that's private,” My brother ignores me and continues reading. "Balder!" My voice surprises him and he sees me raising an eyebrow. "I said enough is enough.”

"And what’ll you do about it, little sister?"

Suddenly the four of us are running around the house. Isis and Balder throw the notebook at each other while Juno and I try to catch up with them. And to our bad luck, they take advantage of coming of age to cast the spawn spell just as we’re about to catch them.

But after a moment I manage to jump on Balder's back and we both struggled to get the notebook. I pull his hair and he complains.

"You're a damn bloody monkey, Persephone!"

"Return the diary or I'll bite you, Ape,” I stretch and finally take the notebook, but I don't have time to celebrate since Balder loses his balance and we both fall to the ground.

Isis and Juno see us and the last one lets out a sigh of relief when she sees me with her diary. The tense moment is replaced by Balder's laughs, then followed by the girls, including me. Balder and I carefully get off the ground.

The laughter continues until I feel something go down my nose, I touch that part and my fingers are bloody. “Oh, great.”

"Classic, Persephone’s always the one who gets hurt," Isis snorts.

"Oh, this is my time to get in," says Jane walking towards us with a small briefcase in hand. "I heard laughter, I knew you would need my help," She gestures with her hand and guides me to a dining room chair. I sit down and she faces me, opens the briefcase and begins to heal my nose.

Isis and Balder start a conversation as if nothing had happened and go towards the living room, while Juno approaches us.

“Oh, yeah." I lift the notebook without looking at her as Jane takes my chin to wipe away the blood.

Juno takes it and hugs it against her chest. I thought that would be it and she would leave, but she just stands there. Jane and I share a look.

"Are you hurt, honey?" The blonde asks.

"Oh no... I just–" She watches me and suddenly her cheeks flush. Now I understand. I giggle.

"So do you like Remus?" I raise my eyebrows and Jane stops touching my face.

“Who's Remus?" Jane asks and Juno bites her lip.

"It's nobody. Please don't tell him,” She begs me and I laugh.

If I’m honest, thinking about Juno and Remus… I don't like that idea.

The last time I had a conversation with her, it was not kind at all, also, I don’t want Remus to be close to my disastrous family, he already has enough with me.

"I won't tell him, take it easy,” She nods and leaves.

Jane puts a little bandaid on my nose.

"Done, just be careful next time.”

"If there’s a next one, it’ll be worse, I assure you. Isis is right, whenever we play I get hurt– I broke my arm once and was only on the swings! Apollo and Balder decided it’d be a good idea to help me swing very high,” We both laugh.

"Can I ask you something?" She says.

“Sure?”

"You know that Remus guy,” I nod. "It's not to criticize you or tell you what to do, but don't you think it’d be good to help Juno with the boy?"

“No,” She raises her eyebrows.

"Just like that?”

“Yes," I think she expects something more. I roll my eyes. “Juno's not Remus’ type, they wouldn’t be a good couple.”

“Why're you so sure?" I sigh.

"Listen, I don't know what impression you have of Juno, here she’s always more serious and quiet, but at Hogwarts she’s different, everything worsened since... the accident in the summer." She shifts in her chair, obviously Apollo told her what happened.

“I don't know what’s going on in Juno's mind, I just know that they’re not good things and I’m not going to let those things happen to Remus. He’s…” I think about it for a few seconds and smile. “He’s become a good friend of mine and because of that, I want to protect him.”

"But Juno’s your sister?”

“All the more reason, I’m going to protect him from my own family. He doesn't need any more problems, Jane.” She finally sighs.

"Well, I'm not going to get into your business," I nod and suddenly she smiles. "Do you know who’s excited?" She lifts her blouse to expose her belly. “He's been kicking since he heard you.”

"Yes, this is scaring me, Jane," She laughs.

"If you don't come for your gifts, I'll keep them to myself!" I hear Isis scream. I don't wait any longer and run towards the huge Christmas tree where all the presents are.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

After life's most awkward family reunion, in which it seemed like I didn't exist, they finally let me go back to my room with my Christmas presents. I sit down on the floor in front of my bed and put them close to me.

The first is Regulus' gift, a beautiful necklace, apparently gold, I smile. The next one was from Remus, which I open with a lot of emotion, it’s a red notebook, really nice, I open it and I find a note on the first page.

‘Here you can write our progress with the classes... or you can use it as a journal, you can do whatever you want, but I wrote what we’ve done in the last weeks, I hope you like it.

RL.’

I keep going and laugh when I find his notes, warnings and some muggle jokes, obviously explained. He’s really sweet, I can see the details and the dedication he had in doing it.

The following gifts are from relatives, with some notes to wish me luck with my marriage, some people I don’t even know –I’m sure they only want to get a place at the wedding. I roll my eyes. The last one I open is a small navy blue box, I open it and I find a pretty simple necklace along with a circular charm. I check it everywhere, but there’s no note. I don't give it much thought, but I decide to put it around my neck.

“Persephone," a thick voice scares me, I look up meeting my father at the door frame. I shrink into my place.

"Y-Yes?" I can't help but stutter.

"I think it's time to talk, come with me,” He doesn't wait for an answer and leaves my room. I get up and follow him.

We both head to his study. Upon entering, he locks the door, then walks to his desk and leans in front of it.

I bite the inside of my cheek when I see the room, I remember that I was always afraid to come here, so I told my dad that he should always have the curtains open, so that more light could come in, which he did. But now the entire room is dark except for the center, which is lit by the dim light of three candles.

My hands sweat and tremble uncontrollably, I can hear my heartbeat. He just watches me quietly for a few minutes.

"You should know that your marriage to Sirius is not a punishment for what happened a few months ago," for the first time since I returned I dare to look him directly in the eye.

"That's not true," I say in a weak voice. I clear my throat. "If it wasn't one, you would’ve made the news next year or even when I was in seventh grade, why now?"

"Dear Persephone, it's not all about you,” I raise my eyebrows at his words. A smile appears on his face, but it’s not the same as when he knows of some mischief of mine. That look, those gestures he makes when he is doing business, when he knows that the other person has no way out.

"Isn't my wedding about me?" I say louder in a moment of bravery. "You don't have to lie– No, wait, you already did that.” He raises an eyebrow.

“It's the only way to unite the Black and Singh families."

"I have better ideas.” Shut up, please.

"Your wedding is not the end of the world,” He says raising his voice.

"It is for me. You're going to ruin my life and Sirius's. We both want to choose whether we want to do it or not,” He laughs now.

"Do you think I had a choice with your mother, nor did the Blacks have it?"

“That's no excuse for us not having a choice.”

"You don't understand anything, silly girl"

"I won’t marry Sirius.”

"Yes you will!" He’s fast and I back up until I hit the wall. “I will not allow you to ruin the family name because of your tantrums. We’re doing you a favor, given what happened in the summer and the constant rebellion of Sirius, it is time for someone to put you in your place!” My eyes tear up. "This is your time to remedy your cowardice.” He moves away a little. I’m surprised at his words.

"Cowardice? Not wanting to kill a Muggle family, is that what you call cowardice? ”

"They are infe-"

"They are not!" I interrupt before he continues with the same sermon as always. "That family was innocent, I was and you didn’t mind taking their lives!" The memories come quickly.

That day in which nothing was different, until my brother Apollo and Isis abandoned their routines with their family to arrive at our house late at night. I remember that my father called me and I went down to the living room, the furniture was not there and everything was lit by candles and the flames of the fireplace.

"What's going on?" I asked. My whole family was gathered in the center, their bodies are covered in black robes.

"I want you to come closer, daughter," Says my father, raising his arms. I get closer until I'm in front of him. His hands touch my shoulders.

"Unfortunately, the dark lord is in a great hurry to gather his people, and we can't wait for you to turn seventeen, darling," He touches my cheek.

“Dark Lord?”

"Finally there’s someone with courage to put an order in the magical world,” adds my mum.

"We will explain later, now you must do something for me, would you do it?" I nodded. "That's my girl,” suddenly another black figure comes out from behind my father.

"This is Bartemius Crouch Jr." The man comes up with a sinister smile and takes my hand.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Singh," He says, then releases my hand and goes to a corner.

"Persephone, you must show Mr. Crouch that you’re worthy to be on the side of the Dark Lord."

"But... I- I don't- I don't know, dad," I say nervously.

"Don't worry, it's a simple thing, I'll be here.” Isis reaches out and holds out my wand. "Take it," I obey with my trembling hand.

Then they all stepped back to reveal three kneeling figures. My father guides me until I’m in front of them.

He holds up his wand and the cloth that covered their faces disappears. My breath cuts short and my eyes are wide, I try to back away, but my father avoids it by putting a hand on my lower back.

A man, a woman and an 8-year-old boy. The three wake up and when they notice the new location they begin to move, and try to speak, but the ties on their hands and feet and the cloth in their mouths prevent it.

"Crucio!" My father exclaims and the three of them screech in pain. The little boy is crying just like his mother.

I look at them with pure terror, what the fuck do they want me to do with them?

"What is this? Why are they here? Who are they, dad? ”

“Calm down, Persephone. This family–” He points out to them. “They are Muggles, do you remember what I have taught you about them?” I nod in confusion. "Well, now you must show that we’re superior to them.”

“Wha– How?" My father stands behind me and whispers in my ear.

"Kill them.”

Taglist:

@treestarrrrrrrr @siriuslysirius1107 @thagreenmoon @madmaiden2890 @bloodorangemoonlight @ren-ela @avipshamitra @auroraawrites @findzelda @lizlil @siriusmuch @mey-rapp

#Pure blood #hp fanfic #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter #remus lupin #harry potter #twoidiots writing

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