#but this all day long so sick of people giving Oliver shit

[hunter-hero-nerd]

Bathroom Confessions

Prompt: “I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back.” Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC!Female Hunter (Olive O'Hara) Warnings: Nothing major, alcohol, sex mentioned, flirty fluff A/N: Hey y'all This is my first fic in a while, so please be kind! This is a one shot featuring my oc, Olive O'Hara. I have plans to make a series with her. So if you like this, be on the look out for that!

The Olive O'Hara Chronicles Masterlist! Main Masterlist!

The Impala buzzes with excitement as the three of us make our way to the bar Dean had spied up the road. I tug nervously at my dark wash denim skirt that is just a tad too short. It has been too long since I’ve gotten any, if you catch my drift, and I am out to play tonight. The hunt had gone way better than anyone, Sam especially, thought would go. So, when the older Winchester nearly demanded that we all go out for a celebratory drink, I said yes when I normally would say no. It’s painful to watch Dean flirt with any random girl and take her home. 

My crush on Dean, I always thought, had always been hidden until one night, a very drunk Sam proclaimed that it was very evident to him. So, after that I decided to stop putting myself in a situation for jealousy and giving my crush away to the Winchester that shouldn’t ever under any circumstances know. As cliche as it sounds, his friendship means way more to me than any stupid crush. 

But tonight, I am going to take a huge step in getting over someone… by getting under someone else. Some townie at the bar would have to do to give me the spark to give others a try. “And here we are! Some random bar! But, who gives a shit as long as they have booze!” Dean cheers from the driver’s seat as he puts the Impala in park in front of said random bar. 

We all climb out of the car and I catch Dean eyeing me up as I straighten out my skirt. “You dressed up tonight. Lookin’ good.” He winks seductively then offers his arm playfully. My stomach flutters but I take it as I know that’s how he is. He playfully flirts with most people. Really Sam is the only one who’s safe.

“Well, maybe y’all will be a man short going back to the motel tonight. If I’m lucky.” I say with some faux confidence in my voice.

“You really gonna go home with some rando?” Dean says, stopping us short. Is that jealousy I hear?

“C’mon, you do it. And plus, I’m not your average girl. Remember? I haven’t been a civilian since I was 18.”  I look up at his face and see it semi-relax, but he still doesn’t seem happy. He drops the conversation and leads us into the bar. His energy shifts and smirks down at me. 

“Who wants a drink!” He says and gets Sam and my drink orders and goes off to the bar. 

“Look, an open pool table. Wanna play?” Sam asks me with a smile. He knows I know he can beat me any day of the week, but he loves to torture me. And me being the friend I am, I oblige with a wave of my arm ushering him to lead the way. He racks us up as Dean came back with their beers and my vodka Red Bull.

“Here’s your girly drink.” He says with a smirk as he hands me the drink. I take it and chug at least half in one swig. “Better slow down! I ain’t holding back your hair if you get sick. You’ll have to get your rando to do that.” I roll my eyes and then place my drink on the high top table we had claimed. I pick up my cue and saunter over to the pool table.

“Ladies first.” Sam proclaims as he removes the rack from the table. I set my shot up and break the balls evenly throughout the table. I even sink one.

“Solids.” I call, proud I have a chance to out run Sam’s impeccable game.

“Finally getting good!” Dean cheers from the sidelines. I roll my eyes and line up my next shot. It just so happens to be in front of Dean and I have to lean over a bit. I flip my way too long hair out of my face. I need to cut it but every time I think about it I get upset. So, I like to let it grow as much as I can. “Liking this view, sweetheart.” I hear Dean say and I’m thrown off my game. I miss the shot terribly, and hear Sam’s roar of laughter.

“Guess it’s my go!” He cheers as he sets down his beer and surveys the table. I head back to the table and chug the rest of my drink.

“Want me to help you with your next shot?” Dean quips flirtatiously. I smirk before replying.

“Only if you buy me another drink.”

Many, many rounds later, I am drunker than I have ever been in my life. Dean and I have been playing this back and forth that has completely distracted me from my goal of getting over him. As I finish another drink, the room begins to spin. “Maybe let that be your last one, sweetheart.” Dean says as he catches me sliding off the edge of the bar stool.

“M-you’re probably right.” I say slurring my words. I grab his shirt to try to stabilize myself and look up at him as the world fades around me.

-Dean’s POV-

Olive has been killing me all night. The way she’s dressed, the way she’s carrying herself, the way she’s just existing. It makes it hard for me to not get sucked in and try to avoid all feelings for my fellow hunter. When I saw her down her first drink I knew she was in for a night. She never holds her liquor well and usually once she starts drinking, she turns into a fish. So, how could I let this woman that I cared for get shitfaced and go home with some rando to do god knows what? So, I glued myself to her hip. 

Olive starts slipping from her bar stool and I instinctively catch her and slide her back on. “Maybe let that one be the last one, sweetheart.” She mumbles something I can’t quite hear in return and grabs a hold of me. She looks up at me and I see her glassy brown eyes try their best to focus. “Oh, you’re trashed.” I joke as I feel a genuine smile appear on my face. She mumbles again. “What’s that?”

“Dean, I don’t feel good…” Her voice is small and almost embarrassed. 

“Okay! Bathroom!” I say without a second thought, scooping her into my arms and carrying her to the single bathroom. We’re barely in the room when she rushes to the toilet and pukes up all the vodka she’d been drinking. I follow her and sweep her long ebony hair out of the way. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I shush as I rub circles into her back with my free hand. She starts to relax and come back to reality.

“I’m sorry…” She whispers as she sits back a little, wiping her mouth.

“Don’t start with the I’m sorrys. Once you start, you don’t stop, Drunk Oli.” She looks up at me with her beautiful eyes.

“I love you, Dean. Like. Love you love you.”

“I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back.” I say as I sweep a few stray hairs away from her face. She whines drunkenly.

“You don’t understaaaand.”

“It’s okay. You can tell me in the morning.” I laugh and help her to stand. “Let’s get you back to the motel.”

#dean winchester #fanfic #supernatural #dean x ofc #fluff #flirty fluff #writing prompt #oneshot #sam winchester

[ryouverua]

Saimota is a fantastic ship that only improves with age and their respective maturity. Right from the get-go we see this in canon, too! They have a tumultuous first clash at the end of chapter 1 which is immediately turned on its head, and the subsequent growth and development of their in-game relationship really stands out that much more because of it.

This is a long one, so strap in!

Kaito realizes his mistake in his approach after punching him the night before and rectifies it immediately the next morning when he notices Shuichi hasn’t come to breakfast, rightly guessing that he’s stewing in his own grief and misery. And then, being the emotionally intelligent guy he is, he follows up that night and drags him out to exercise (which, y’know, releases endorphins and is scientifically proven to help with mood boosts and even depression) - a move which Shuichi says in chapter 5 saved his life.

A couple days pass and a body drops. Kaito supports him through the investigation knowing that Kaede had been with him last time and that there’s a danger of him relapsing. In the trial, too, Kaito makes every effort to let Shuichi know that he isn’t alone and someone does have his back if he fumbles. This is the real moment that Shuichi chooses to depend on Kaito and is rewarded for it, and while Kaito does get plenty of ego-feed out of it, he believes in Shuichi and his talent wholeheartedly (enough so that it’ll come back to bite him later). But despite it being framed as a ‘hero and sidekick’ relationship, it’s not just for Kaito’s self-worth - it’s to take some of the mental load off of Shuichi, who really, really doesn’t want the pressure of everyone’s lives solely on his shoulders, and is now dealing with the guilt of two cases where uncovering the guilty party hurt him.

(quick chapter 2 interlude! while this is where a lot of the big hero-worship begins for Shuichi and happens to be where I also did his first FTE and got to witness this:

this is also the chapter when these moments happen, post-breakfast and post-casino scene respectively:

and this happens in the very next FTE:

mmm yes, the duality of man. Suffice it to say, while Shuichi has definite rose-coloured glasses on for a lot of the game, Kaito is definitely not an invincible, untouchable hero in his eyes)

Interestingly enough, despite Shuichi still very much leaning into their friendship (and vice versa), they don’t spend a lot of time together in Chapter 3 after he brings Maki out to training that first night! While Chapter 4 is their real ‘break’, Kaito spends a lot of time in his room in the second half while Shuichi gets to know Maki better. And while Maki is a much, uh, meaner investigation partner (love you girl, but that tongue is sharp), they make a great team. Shuichi also starts poking at Kaito’s reason for holing up in his room, incorrectly guess that it’s just related to the occult being brought up. Most importantly, Shuichi is able to do an investigation on his own independent of Kaito just a week after the end of Chapter 1.

Chapter 4 and its immediate aftermath in 5 is great because it showcases Kaito’s flaws and insecurity, and what conflict between the two of them look like. It’s because Kaito respects Shuichi so much that cracks in his own confidence start appearing - and while Shuichi can be obtuse and awkward at times, he shows signs of wanting to broach some more sensitive topics with Kaito; if you do FTEs with Kaito in Ch 4, he even has an inner narrative in which he notes that Kaito had said his stomach hurt before.

He’s not so self-absorbed as to not worry about his friend (but narratively we gotta save that juicy plot point and subsequent reveal for the end of the trial) but hey, Kaito wants to chill and just shoot the shit - so why not have some downtime with his friend in the murder school. Btw, their FTE availability ends here - so if Shuichi has completed them with Kaito, he’s already had his canon-saimota thoughts at this point. While I have given Shuichi the side-eye for his ‘I can rely on Kaito for anything’ spiel, he is fully able and willing to stand up to Kaito in the Chapter 4 trial despite his canon feelings for him at that point. By the way, it’s been a week and a half since the end of Chapter 1 at this point. Shuichi and Kaito have had an arc together where they become fast friends in a pressure-cooker situation and bonding over shared grief for Kaede (even if Kaito’s is less obvious), Shuichi starts as dependent on Kaito’s emotional support but learns to stand on his own two feet, and Kaito is forced to confront his own weakness and hero persona, all while classmates are dropping (including Kaito’s own ex-hero figure, a stark reminder that ‘heroes’ do have flaws).

So the beginning of Chapter 5 is wild to me because of how it’s so often misinterpreted as Kaito immaturely giving Shuichi the silent treatment despite the entirety of the game preceding it explicitly showing that Kaito will tell you, loudly, when he’s angry at you, and that’s purely because we’re in Shuichi’s perspective and he thinks that’s what’s going on - but that’s a bit of a tangent. What I like about it is how we get to see what happens when Kaito (as sick as he is at that point) feels badly and embarrassed with someone he is close to; he withdraws as opposed to lashing out. And while Shuichi is really, really bad at reaching out too without an inciting incident (tunnel escape), he does try and broach the topic when push comes to shove. He’s not lost in hero worship, not even close - he is rightfully upset that the person he’s closest to at the school is upset while still maintaining to himself and the others that his actions were correct. He doesn’t waver on this, despite his attempt to offer an olive branch at the window of the hangar’s bathroom. He truly stands by his own choices in the last class trial and know he won't back down on that if push comes to shove, and that's important - he won't yield the point just to appease Kaito. Shuichi then manages the investigation on his own, leads the trial on his own, faces off with Maki (and who he thinks is Kokichi) on his own, because he has *reached* a point where he can be independent. And to bring it back to how we get a look at ‘saimota in conflict’, Shuichi and Kaito both make amends with each other by the end of the chapter. Even if it’s spurred by it being their final goodbye, Shuichi gets to say his piece, Kaito lays out one of his own vulnerabilities so he can make peace with Shuichi - and even if I’d love to have had them delve into all of Kaito's various issues, there is a very murderous robobear overseeing this which makes time a factor - and I firmly believe that if they had more time, they could’ve resolved even more of the issues that would come up for Saimota. The groundwork wasn’t just there; there was already half the structure in place. And that’s what makes saimota even more appealing to me, tbh. We get to see them build a relationship, run into a big issue, struggle through it and resolve it by the end of the game - and it means that there’s precedent for them to do it again as more interpersonal challenges come up! It’s a goldmine of ship exploration, and they care about each other enough to work through it.

… By the way, at this point they are 2 weeks past the end of Chapter 1.

Imagine if they had more time. Imagine if Shuichi, who is absolutely dogged in pursuing an issue once he catches wind of it (despite how he can get wrapped up in his own head), who cares a lot for other people, who doesn’t just find runaways as part of his detective talent, but follows up with them after because he cares about more than just finishing the job, had the chance to spend years with Kaito and realize he uses his hero persona to protect a much more fragile sense of self. Imagine Shuichi forming that initial friendship with Kaito without the albatross of Kaede’s death hanging around his neck; about how he’ll still look up to Kaito and his fantastic positivity, passion and excellence in his chosen field, and that would only be matched by Kaito’s own admiration of Shuichi’s skills as a detective. Imagine if Kaito, who repeatedly shows the ability to reflect and change his mind when presented with evidence against his viewpoint and was able to express his own insecurity and jealousy to Shuichi in the end, was given the breathing room and space to get more comfortable with doing so. Imagine how difficult and emotionally mature they were to navigate as well as they did in a life-or-death situation that took place over a couple of weeks tops, and how much more they could grow if given the time and space for it.

... And this was nearly going to be where I ended the post, until Ira reminded me of TDP and sent me this wonderful Saimota event (which takes place before the final graduation/training trio event):

Oh hey, Shuichi picked up his catchphrase! It's quite cute how he's finishing Kaito's sentence here - he's spent a couple of years being friends with Kaito at this point, and has even taken up exercising on his own for stress relief. I wonder whose influence that was?

Anyway -

Shuichi has figured out at this point that he does need to firmly extend that helping hand to Kaito rather than worry and keep it to himself. On the other side, Kaito has learned that it is okay to accept that outstretched hand, even if he doesn't need it right now - that he can admit that some day, he might. He's being blase, sure, but it is a far cry from his in-game 'I don't/won't need help'. Good for you, Kaito - you've grown a lot! And that's the most important thing their TDPs show - their capacity for growth not just as individuals, but in a relationship. Of course there will be bumps along the way - it’s very rare that any relationship won’t have them! - but they've proven that they can work these problems in the worst of circumstances. This is by far one of the strongest ships with canon foundation in the entire series, and my goodness do I still love it years later.

#saimota #Kaito Momota #momosai #Shuichi Saihara #Danganronpa v3 #spoilers #drv3 spoilers #saimota.... is good #long drv3 posts in 2021? it's more likely than you think

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 13

Hello friends we have come to the end of Cult Girl. Thank you all for hyping me up throughout this story and giving me the confidence to actually post my work. Y/n and Hannibal throw a dinner party.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the entire kitchen in that homey mid-morning glow. You were enjoying your coffee and scrolling through an article on your phone.

"Senator Hatch reportedly coughed up his late wife's toe on the floor of the precinct." You read out loud. "Huh. Wonder how that could have happened."

You side-eyed Hannibal, who was contentedly sharpening his knives. Placing a rather large meat cleaver to the side, he met your gaze. "I have my ways."

You finished off your coffee and brought the mug to the sink. "There was no way Theresa was going to survive that night, was there?"

"Clever girl." Hannibal praised.

"You were going to kill her if I didn't, were you?" You felt a smile coming on. "Did everything turn out as expected?"

"Darling, this all went much better than I could have ever hoped for." He smirked. "See, I had the whole evening mapped out. I was hoping you'd be the one to deliver justice and kill her, but I had to prepare for the possibility that you wouldn't."

You folded your arms and leaned against the island. "Is that why I was so sick that day?"

You could have sworn you saw some hesitation in Hannibal's face. Maybe even a touch of regret. "Yes. You needed an alibi. It was as easy as removing a single birth control pill from your packet. You'd see it was missing and think you'd already taken your medicine-"

"So I'd neglect to take my focus meds." You cut in. "Yeah, I knew something was off."

"By the end of the day, you'd be experiencing full withdrawal symptoms." Hannibal nodded. "I don't take any pleasure in upsetting the delicate balance of your brain chemistry, and for that I am sorry. I did what I had to."

"Yeah, don't ever do that again." You ordered, no disarming smile in sight. "I need those meds to function."

"I promise you, darling," Hannibal said, sincerely. "I would never keep you from being anything but your very best. I was just looking after you."

"I suppose now that all this is out in the open, you won't need to pull any shit like that again." You muttered. "But I'm still going to keep my pills at my apartment."

"That reminds me." He said. "Would you like to invite your roommates for dinner tonight? I've prepared a wonderful Spanish-inspired menu that's perfect for entertaining."

"I'd love for you to meet my friends, but, they all keep such weird hours I doubt they'll all be free tonight." You shrugged. "I'll give them a call though."

"Wonderful." He smiled. "You make arrangements while I prepare the kitchen."

You stepped into the office and called up Pilar. She answered within the minute.

"[F/N]!" She near shouted. "Holy fuck, how are you doing?"

"I'm actually doing..." you looked back into the kitchen, watching your beloved Hannibal in his element. "Really well."

"I heard about your cousin." Pilar cut in. "One down, two to go."

You snorted. "No fucking shit."

"Sorry, was that okay for me to say?" She apologized. "I know you said Theresa was a bitch, but it's your trauma and I-"

"No, you're fine." You laughed. "She was a bitch. Hey, do you have any plans tonight?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so." She answered. "Why?"

"Hannibal wants to invite you all for dinner tonight." You said with an audible smile. "Y'know, to celebrate the bitch's death."

"Yo! Steph!" Pilar shouted across the room. "Wake Randy up! We're having dinner at [F/N]'s rich boyfriend's house!"

You could make out Stephanie's voice in the background. "It's about damn time. We've been waiting for her to redistribute the wealth."

"She means thank you for the invitation." Pilar corrected.

"It's not like I had to twist his arm or anything. It was his idea." You chuckled. "He loves having guests. And excuses to dress up."

"Oh so we're getting fancy, huh?" Pilar's voice turned up in excitement.

"Hey [F/N]!" Randy snatched the phone from Pilar. "Text me the menu for tonight. My girlfriend'll steal a nice bottle of wine to pair. She's a pro, she works over at Cavatappi's wine and spirits."

"Much obliged, Randy." You said. "I'll see you guys at seven."

You returned to the kitchen with a smile. "They're coming."

"Well, we don’t have a moment to lose, then." Hannibal placed something wrapped in butcher paper on the counter. "Come now. Let me show you how to properly prepare a heart.

You and Hannibal spent the rest of the morning and the whole afternoon preparing a bountiful meal. You reveled in the irony of finally finding a space for Theresa in your life. That space just so happened to be on the stove.

Seven came far too quickly, but your friends were always a welcome sight. You greeted them at the door with hugs, Hannibal watching with stoic adoration.

"Guys, this is Hannibal Lecter, my partner." You introduced. "Hannibal, this is Pilar, Stephanie and Miranda."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies." Hannibal greeted. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

"Here you go, Dr. Lecter." Randy handed him a bottle of wine. "Thank you for inviting us."

Hannibal examined the bottle. "Yes, this will pair quite nicely with our meal. Thank you very much. [F/N], could you show our guests to the dining room?"

You nodded and accepted the bottle, given the extra responsibility of pouring. You led your friends to the dining room and wasted no time distributing the alcohol.

"A toast." Stephanie rose her glass. "Too many of history's worst have had the privilege of dying on their own terms. Today, we celebrate the death of one who didn't: Theresa [L/N]."

"She will join her sisters Nancy Reagan and Madame Nhu in hell tonight." You concurred, tapping your glasses together with a series of satisfying clinks.

"Okay, you need to spill." Randy scooted her chair up and leaned towards you. "How the hell did you get away with it?"

"Well, it helped a lot that her husband was already a felon." You teased. "If I didn't kill her, he was going to eventually."

Pilar made a face. "I can't believe it took actual murder to get that latter-day lump thrown in prison."

"Well, the LDS church is a very influential organization with a stronghold on all of Utah." You explained. "There's a long history of legitimizing sex abuse there."

"We know, cult girl." Stephanie laughed. "You remind us every time your pedophile cousin-in-law comes up. Relax and take your victories where you can get them.” 

“Ladies,” Hannibal entered. You rushed to his side to help him with the dinner plates. “Have we ever tried organ meat before?” 

Everyone’s eyes found Pilar. 

“Braised liver is delicious and you guys are just cowards.” Pilar protested. “I will die on this hill.” 

Hannibal smiled and presented your friends with their plates. “You are a woman of good tastes, Pilar. Our first course is Riñones al Jerez.” 

“Kidneys.” Randy translated. “Who’s kidneys are we eating today, Dr. Lecter?” 

He tilted his head. “Theresa’s, of course.” 

“I don’t care whose organs you harvested.” Stephanie said, her eyes rolling back into her head. “This is delicious.” 

You and Hannibal shared a glance and a smile. 

You and your roommates devoured the Riñones al Jerez, then dug into the next serving of heart stewed with chickpeas and olives. You finished off the evening with natillas de leche and a bottle of Sauternes Hannibal just happened to have lying around. 

“This is the first time since like, Keith Raniere got sentenced that I’ve seen [F/N] happy-drunk.” Stephanie observed.

“Or even just... happy." Pilar said, looking at Hannibal. "I'll have some of whatever she's having, please."

"My pleasure." Hannibal poured her another glass of wine.

Your phone began to buzz on the table, capturing the attention of your guests. You didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was. Nobody else in the world had such horrid timing.

"Shit, you've got to answer it here!" Stephanie pleaded. "So we can all give her a piece of our mind!"

You looked over to Hannibal, who you knew was just as curious.

You dragged the answer icon across the screen and put it on speaker. You gestured for your friends to be quiet. "Yeah?"

"Well look who finally decided to pick up." Grandma said. "Thank you for gracing me with your attention. I know you have so much going on right now, you're just too busy to pick up the phone and talk to your grieving grandmother."

"For your information..." you stumbled over your words. "I was interrogated by the police yesterday. I think that counts as having something going on."

"Are you drunk?" Her voice was laced with a disproportionate level of disgust.

"I'm grieving too, Beatrice." You counter. "What, suddenly you're the only one who can drink the pain away? That's not very democratic of you."

"In your state, you shouldn't even be thinking of alcohol!" Grandma scolded. "You of all people should know the effects alcohol has on an unborn baby."

You smacked yourself on the head. Of course Theresa would plant a seed to fuck you over one last time. "Did Theresa actually tell you I was pregnant?"

"It was her last message to me, actually. Anyway, you're coming home." Grandma said, without so much as waiting for a response. "I won't have my great grandchild living in that dangerous city that your cousin was killed in."

You exchanged looks with your friends, who were going through the same combination of emotions as you were. Grandma's words just seemed to fade out as you shared an entire nonverbal conversation with the people around you.

"And you're leaving that terrible, terrible man."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and looked at you, waiting to see how you'd respond. You knew what you had to do. It was finally time. You did something you should have done a long time ago.

"No." You said, your nerves loosened by the wine.

"What?"

"No. And I mean it." A big smile crossed your lips. "Theresa lied to you. I'm not pregnant. And you have to live with the fact that your granddaughter's last words to you were a blatant lie."

Hannibal looked at you with pride and your friends began to silently gas you up with encouraging gestures. "

"...And that you're the only one to blame for her deception." You continued. "You raised her in your own image."

"This is why I refuse to let you raise my great grandchild with that man!" She wailed. "He's twisted your mind against me! He's made you cruel!"

"Hannibal made me see clearly that you made me cruel." You said with absolute certainty. "You'll never see me again."

"Don't be like your mother, [F/N]." Grandma snarled. "Don't cut people out for trying to help."

"You'll never see me again." You repeated and decided to leave it at that. You ended the call and blocked the number, joined by an eruption of excitement from your friends.

It was finally over. Your life could truly begin.

#hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #cult girl

[katatty]

Recap: Pleasantview Round 5 (Summer)

The romance of Spring certainly went to a few heads in Pleasantview - the suburb is in the midst of quite the baby boom. But now Summer is here, and school is out! Parents are scrambling to sort out childcare, teenagers are reveling in their freedom, and with the sun shining, the mood in the neighbourhood is pretty great.

But are the families as happy as they seem? Or are some on the brink of collapse? What secrets lurk in their hearts?

The round began with newcomers Tiffany Sampson and Kevin Beare getting settled in. They adopted a puppy, got new jobs, and got to know the neighbours.

Then as Tiffany finished her first day of work in the Education career, she learned she was already pregnant!

They had a quick, slightly rushed wedding before the baby arrived.

Baby Harvey was born, but it already looks like she might be expecting again.

The round ended on a happy note, with the couple already nicely established as a family in town with a few friends!

The Dreamer family started out just as well, but things quickly started to deteriorate.

Due to a combination of bad mental health, recurring nightmares and possible haunting, Brandi Broke isn’t in a good place. Her relationship with Darren suffers for it, too.

Meanwhile Cassandra’s marriage with Don is falling apart, and Darren can’t help being sympathetic. Perhaps a little too much so.

Mia Broke, obsessed with the paranormal, gets herself abducted by aliens, much to her mom’s dismay.

She’s also eager to discuss her theories about the spooky sounds in their yard, but Brandi shuts it down.

Mia goes on a date with Benedick Monty, but it’s kind of a mixed bag.

Back home, Mia and Darren eventually talk about the possible hauntings at home. He admits to her seeing Darleen’s ghost, from time to time.

Brandi also opens up to Mia about her father, Skip.

And Mia is vindicated to finally some ghosts herself!

I played the Lotharios next since I was interested in what was going on with Cassandra.

Cassandra and Don’s relationship has had its ups and downs - neither of them has been 100% faithful, but they’re dealing with it. Maybe? Between raising the twins and focusing on their careers there hasn’t been a ton of time for marriage counselling.

Don’s been feeling a bit isolated, recently. Outside of his family and his coworkers, he doesn’t really have a lot of friends. That’s been deliberate, to an extent. The fewer people around him, the fewer temptations to stray outside of the marriage.

For the most part, it’s been working. But a chance meeting with Nina Caliente has him feeling… confused.

The kids are doing fine, the parents not so much.

She’s always in low aspiration, lately, ever since her Dad passed away. It’s been hard getting on her feet since then, and Don going on about needing “me time” doesn’t help. She needs his support right now more than ever! Why doesn’t he get that?

They don’t talk about it, but both of them are feeling very alone, and starting to lose faith in each other...

Meanwhile, the boys age up. Bernado’s a popularity sim and Cassimiro’s knowledge.

Eventually, things in the marriage finally explode and Cassandra tells Don about Darren, trying to get a rise out of him.

Don immediately retaliates by woohooing with Sharon Wirth on a grocery-run.

After a cool-off day, they agree to break things off, and Don moves out.

He moves in, temporarily, with Bella. Who is insistant that he and Cassie try and patch things up!

He’s more interested in exploring new options, though.

Bella is devestated to lose her job as a party guest.

Meanwhile Oliver Goth (Dina and Mortimer’s son) gets his first kiss with Ariel Capp! Later he goes on a date with Tommy Ottomas, too.

At one of Bella’s parties, Cassandra and Don keep things civil, but Cassandra evidently isn’t doing well.

Bella goes on a date with Gilbert Jacquet. It’s not really all that serious between them, and Bella still misses Mortimer dreadfully, but Gilbert is charming and handsome enough to take her mind of her worries.

Things with Bella and Don also seem to be getting a little heavy, and Don concludes he needs to move out before things cross a line. Bella reluctantly agrees, it’s obvious her plan to get him and Cassie back together hasn’t worked

Don moves to Strangetown!

Next up are the Ramaswami family, a nice breath of fresh air after all the drama.

Priya befriends some of the other mothers in town, becoming especially close to Kaylynn.

And baby Ravi gows into maybe the coolest toddler ever?

Sanjay survives a near death experience.

And Priya finds out she’s expecting again!

Divorced once and with the girls having just graduated college, Daniel Pleasant didn’t expect to be engaged again with a kid on the way as he approached retirement age, doing it all over again. He’s far from unhappy about it, though. Mary Sue always had an independent streak, but Kaylynn adores him. Maybe it’s a bit selfish, but it feels so good to be needed.

Kaylynn knows some people in the neighbourhood look down on her, think her naive, call her a homewrecker… that’s fine. If they worked as a cleaner for years and years maybe they’d consider packing it in and settling into an easy life, too. What’s wrong with wanting to be taken care of?

Notably (and much to my horror) during the Pleasant round, Brandi and John start up their affair again.

Kaylynn finally gives birth, to a baby boy they call Jeffery Pleasant, after Daniel’s father. Daniel’s really pleased!

Jennifer’s eager to meet her new nephew. She and Kaylynn get off to a rocky start, but eventually start to bond.

She’s closest friends with Brandi Broke, though. The two have become inseperable, with Brandi visiting all the time.

Daniel invites both of the girls over to meet their little brother, but Angela is the only twin who shows. Whether that’s because they have a better relationship, or because Lilith was just busy is anyone’s guess.

Then it turns out Kaylynn’s pregnant again already?

Kaylynn and Daniel tie the knot!

Nina and Don also reconcile at the wedding.

Kaylynn gives birth to another baby boy, Luke!

And Jeff ages upp!

Daniel ages up, too. It’s finally time for him to retire, soon...

Daniel’s definitely a bit of a dirty old man, but Kaylynn doesn’t seem entirely oblivious to that side of him, and figures as long as she keeps his needs met they should be fine. We’ll see if that holds up.

Then it was time to catch up with the Shoreharts, who moved here form Widespot for a fresh start.

A retired chef, Sandy’s enjoying her retirement a lot more than she ever enjoyed being a stay at home mom. Granted, all this free time has her a little restless, but it’s nothing a bit of time outdoors and excercise can’t fix. She hopes.

They were honestly pretty chill! Rhett’s taken to the whole marriage thing suprisingly well, for a romance sim. Turns out, as long as he’s getting lovin’ on a regular basis he doesn’t really care if it’s with one woman or several. It’s never boring with Sandy, and he intends to keep her as happy as he can for the rest of her days. That’ll show her shit-heel of an ex-husband.

Mostly they just spend a lot of time with family.

Sandy’s very generious with the backrubs, but nothing goes too far.

Mimi is definitely at least a little anxious about her parents’ marriage though, because she spends some of the round reading up on Couple’s Councelling.

Then it’s time for her to age up! She grows into a rather cute romance sim.

Then at the party the house of cards starts to crumble, as Sandy gives her ex-husband Hamilton a kiss, right in front of Mimi and Rocky.

Mimi agrees not to tell her Dad, but isn’t happy. She spends a lot of time out of the house.

With Sandy keeping her indescretion quiet, I’m not sure what they have in store in the future!

Regardless, next are the Ramirez family.

Tessa’s spent a lot of time looking afte rthe baby and she’s sick of it! So she spends some time Downtown with friends.

She later takes Bernardo on a date, although he’s not sure if he likes her as more than a friend. Bernardo likes the idea of falling in love with Tessa, who he’s always admired! But he’s a little hesitant at the same time, especially with his parents’ divorce still being so recent.

Checo has a bit of a wandering eye, but mostly he keeps himself in check.

Checo might be a bit of a flirt, but at least he’s not a hypocrite. When Lisa was dancing with Skye he didn’t even bat an eye. Or maybe he just doesn’t see an old man as much of a threat…

Ugh, God, I forgot this happened

Baby Sofia grew up super cute!

Anyway, that’s all from them!

The Oldies weren’t too eventful, mostly just focused on hobbies!

They did finally meet Mary’Sue’s new partner, which went... poorly.

But they did have a nice meeting with their grandaughter later, and a fun night out!

Then it was the Burbs! John’s recent indescretions with Brandi aside, things seemed to be going well.

At least, until he made out with Coral Oldie :/

Oblivious to thins, Jennifer was starting to trust John again.

They had dinner with Jen’s brother Dan and his new wife...

And Jennifer discovered she was pregnant again!

Lucy headed away for college...

And baby James grew up, leaving the Burb round complete and Pleasantview all done & dusted!

#Pleasantview Plus #Hood: Pleasantview #pp: recap

[thesmokingguns]

24 Hours

Word Count:3454

Request/ Summary: “Can i request one where nicki gets turned down by their makeup artist or like stand in manager and hes upset and he finds out the the manager just doesnt sleep with people she just met”

I tried to write this where she breaks rules for him and turns him down. He understands what her restrictions are but he can see that living by her strict rules she created for herself she is making herself unhappy.

I hope I hit the prompt you wanted!

A/N: This turned out longer than I expected it to be so sorry about that one. I do have three requests I’m writing right now on top of some of the stuff I am writing so you can all still make requests but I'm going to be saying it’s a two week wait for a new request right now. I also want to say I am going to write a third and fourth part to the 3am Duff series because I have no self control. Thank you for everyone being patient with me and all your kind words! If you want to be added to my tallest please message me or go HERE

Tag List: @thenobodies-inc​ , @littlemisscare-all​ , @agroupiewhore , @ayablackwood​

You were having a bad day. Not just a bad day but one of those days where everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. From morning to night it was the literal day from hell for you.

8:12am You woke up, an hour after you had hit snooze on your alarm, twelve minutes after you were supposed to leave your house to get to work.

8:34am After throwing yourself together and rushing out the door, you were running out of the apartment with the cup of coffee you had economically and time consciously thought to make. On the last step before you had escaped into the day you slipped, the hot coffee spilled all down the front of your red dress, because of course it was the one day you weren’t wearing black. Rushing back up the stairs you realized that the keys to get into your apartment were in your apartment, hanging on the hook just out of reach behind the door. So you would be going to work in your coffee dress.

9:01AM You made it to work, only thirty-one minutes late. Your boss wasn’t happy that you were late on a Friday, thinking you had done this on purpose as some slight to them. Which meant they had pulled you in the office and chewed you a new asshole.

They also told you about coming to work in a clean, tidy appearance as if you had wanted to be wearing your coffee.

As you were being yelled at you watched the line back up and couldn’t help but think about how yelling at you was just making the situation worse. You also were also thinking about how next time you’d just call in sick instead of being late.

11:59AM One minute before you were scheduled to take a break, one fucking minute, and the crazy man came in. Throwing his shit smelling money at you and proceeding to vomit all over your window.

Your window, your mess. So instead of having a much needed timeout from the day from hell you were trying to scrub the smell of puke off a counter.

1:47 PM You finally stepped out for lunch. Moving to the payphone to call your roommate. She thankfully answered on the second ring of the apartment phone. At least the door would be unlocked after work, which was one thing you had been worried about.

She was quick to tell you about how she had gotten you a gig for the night. Knowing how you wanted to travel, you two had come up with a plan a few months ago to find work in Hollywood for bands or on film sets. She had been pretty popular making costumes and helping to come up with whole concepts for the upcoming Glam Rock scene. One of her usual bands needed help because their makeup artist had been sick, so you were going to work for her tonight.

This would be considered a good thing but since it was a trial run you were not going to be getting paid for this gig. So your time would be free. The makeup you used on them you needed to provide. And you have to be there at 5PM to set up, which is the exact time that you need to get out of work. Your roommate agreed to help set you up and she was going to bring you a change of clothes to the gig. It would be fine because the band wouldn’t need to be made up until 6 or 7 but it was just another thing on your plate.

So you would be losing money that you needed to pay rent on a bunch of entitled rock stars who would probably not hire you and this whole night would just leave you feeling exhausted and annoyed. Really looking forward to it.

3:49PM Your coworker went home sick with a headache so now you had to do twice the amount of work and there was no hope in hell that you would be making it to the gig in time tonight. That great first impression that you would need to get an actual long job was gone. And you were stuck with a line out the door of people trying to cash their checks all seeming to want to kill you. Happy Friday.

5:02PM You were running down the street, thankful you worked around the corner from the venue. A sigh of relief left your lips seeing your roommate waiting for you. She dragged you inside pushing you towards a bathroom and giving you a bag of clothes to change into. You lined your brown eyes with the kohl liner, winging your eyeliner and adding a deep burgundy lip shade that complimented your darker skin.

“Y/N, hurry up.” you rolled your eyes, repacking the bag and heading out where your friend was waiting for you. “I put your makeup in the dressing room already. It’s not set up yet.” she pulled you down a few hallways. Equipment for the band was more around as they started getting ready to set up everything for the show.

You entered the dressing room, seeing there was a table for food and drinks set up,  a rack of costumes for the band to wear, and finally a vanity where your makeup bag was sitting ready to be unpacked. Your friend handed you a cup, pouring a few fingers worth of vodka into it before splashing in some juice to help the taste.

“Cheers,” you tapped red solo cups drinking heavily. If you weren’t going to get paid for the gig you might as well take advantage of whatever free perks came with it.

6:23PM Sitting on the couch, legs crossed, you were chatting aimlessly with your friend when the door opened and a man walked in looking at you confused.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. I’m the makeup artist for the night.” you were quick to introduce yourself not wanting him to think you were another girl who was just trying to sleep with the band.

“Mick.” he moved to pour himself a full cup of straight vodka, “Can you do my makeup now? The three pretty boys take too much time.” Ushering him into the seat you started out on him, wondering what the hell he meant about the other guys being divas.

7:45PM A blonde burst into the room, seeming surprised that you were standing there. The girl on his arm laughed too loudly and you looked over to your roommate who was handing Mick a belt to wear. She just shrugged, this was normal for her.

“Vince, new makeup artist. You should sit now before the Terror Twins stumble in.” Mick warned him. He pulled away from the girl on his arm headed over to your chair with an easy smile.

“You're going to make me prettier, doll?”

“I’m thinking that you would look with some blue eyeshadow. It would really complete your Malibu Barbie look.” You retorted, watching amused as his mouth dropped open, not used to having someone give it back to him.

You hated cocky assholes who thought that they were God’s gift. There was nothing wrong with a  man who was confident but the way that he was looking at himself in the mirror as you did his makeup you knew he was the type that thought he was above everyone else.

8:21PM  Two men burst into the room as you finished up Vince. Looking at the two taller men you let your eyes wander over them. Vince was a diva but there two were going to be where you had the most trouble. They must be tber terror twins Mick had mentioned.

One of the guys fell into the chair, laughing about something as he sipped the beer he was drinking, rubbing his nose. He lit up a cigarette as he sat back in the chair not seeming to care if it was annoying that he was blowing smoke in your face as you tried to work.

You bit your tongue, annoyed as you tried to work around his cigarette, that he almost burnt you with seven different times. As you worked you could feel a set of eyes on you. Looking up you saw the man he had walked in with, staring at you with these intense olive eyes.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be interested in any of these loudmouth guys, who all seemed to be drunk and hyperactive. It was kind of like you were doing makeup for a bunch of chimps instead of men.

8:55PM Finally the last man was sitting in your chair. His eyes gazing up at you with such intensity you stopped moving around to just look at him.

“Have we met before?” there was something familiar about him and you wondered if you had met him at a bar or at a show before.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m Nikki.” Usually when a guy used a nickname instead of your given name you chalked it up to them being a douchebag but with him it seemed natural and not derogatory, “Thank you for coming out to do our makeup today. I heard the other artist got sick at the last minute. We appreciate you taking your time to help us out…” he left it blank waiting for you to give him your name.

“Y/N.” You were surprised by how talkative he was. The kindness in his tone is different from the way the other guys have been. Just when you thought he was different you felt a hand on the back of your thigh, “If you don’t get your hand off me I’ll break your fingers so you can’t play tonight.” you warned him, looking into the olive eyes gazing up at you.

He was too good looking. The type of guy you could get into trouble with if you allowed yourself but you wouldn’t be taking home a stranger tonight.

“Do you always talk to your clients like that?” he asked with a coy smile on his face. This was the type of smug you liked. The funny easy going type who could make you laugh if you had not been on your feet for twelve hours.

“Only the ones that don’t pay me.” you replied, swiping his eyeshadow on. You wanted this to be over so you could go home and sleep.

The drummer came over, bumping into the vanity and knocking the eyeshadow off and not seeming to notice as the makeup smashed into a thousand pieces on the ground. You were officially losing a lot of money on this job and didn’t have the funds to replace it.

“Jesus, T-Bone, watch where you’re going.” Nikki commented, watching you start to pack everything up, “Aren’t you sticking around to watch the show?”  You shook your head. “Why don’t you stick around and I’ll take you out after for a late dinner. As an apology for this being a bust for you.” You were sure that the way he smiled and how his eyes were so clear made it easy for him to pick up chicks but you weren’t going to be one of them.

“I had a long day. I’m not going out with you.” You zipped up your bag ready to leave

“Listen, Y/N, just stay until we go on. Maybe I can talk to someone and you can get paid for coming out.” You did need the money. So reluctantly you stayed.

9:57PM You shouldn’t have stayed. Nikki had seemed to think you telling him you were not going out with him was a maybe you’d go out with him.

It had been an hour of him sitting on the couch getting to know you, asking questions and being nice to you. Men weren’t nice to you just for the sake of being nice, they were born without the concept of human decency.

But he had also talked to their manager, pointing at you and saying stuff you didn’t get to hear. Now you were stuck in a weird limbo wondering if you were going to get paid.

11:15pm The band rushed on stage and you were pulled aside by the manager. He handed you and envelope that you knew contained cash.

“The boys are going to have a few California gigs. If you can stick it out for a couple weeks I’ll consider hiring you for the tour. I’ll pay you $100 bucks a gig and you need to bring your own supplies to start but if you go on tour you’ll get a contract.” He said. You agreed and he handed you a piece of paper with four dates, the upcoming week, times, and his phone number to call if you couldn’t make it. There was also a chicken scratch handwriting with the name Nikki and a phone number

You were stunned when he walked away. You not only got paid but you have jobs lined up to make even more. It was a dream.

Looking up, you moved towards the stage watching the bassist move around the stage. He was high energy, loving what he was doing. There was this presence about him that drew you in. If you did get the tour position that would be trouble.

11:59PM You had finished packing up and we’re heading out of the venue to head home. You were ready for your bed and a few hours of sleep. The guys were playing tomorrow and you wanted to not be having a bad day.

Trying to sneak out, you almost jumped back when four sweaty men came barreling into the room. Your heart instantly went to your throat seeing Nikki. His smile dancing across his lips, hey black hair stuck to his forehead just oozing self confidence and sex appeal.

“You’re leaving so soon?” You just nodded at his question, wondering if it would be considered rude to tuck his hair out of his face. “Did you call a taxi or need a ride? There’s a lot of unsafe riff raff out this late.” He warned and you almost thought he sounded concerned.

“I’m a grown woman. I can walk myself home. It’s only like 15 minutes from here.” His eyebrow raised as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel.

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“No you won’t.” You shoe back, “I don’t know you and I don’t leave with strangers I’ve only known for one day.” You responded. It was practical to have rules to keep you from getting hurt.

“Well, Y/N, we’ve known each other for two days now since it’s past midnight.” He was so calm saying this to you, “And I’m trying to cut back on drinking so if they see me leave with you I won’t be harassed so you’ll really be doing me the favor.” Thinking about what he said, your tongue licked your top lip nervously. The way his eyes followed this motion gave you your answer.

“Thank you for the offer. I’m going to say goodbye to my roommate. I’ll see you in 20 minutes outside?” You gave him a smile and  saw the way he was melting under your touch as you moved away from him.

You moved over to your friend letting her know you were leaving and you’d see her at home.

12:22 AM Adjusting the bag over your shoulder you weaved through the crowds pouring in and out of all the clubs. No one ever really bothered you walking home. It was just the cat calling and guys thinking that they had a right to run their mouths

“Y/N.” You frowned hearing your name. The roar of a motorcycle speeding up had your eyes looking out on the street.

Oh Shit. There was Nikki, looking at you with a line where his smile had been, his kind eyes looking annoyed at you. You had left him after saying you’d let him take you home but he was too pushy.

“Get on.” the steely tone of his voice made you stop what you were doing, thinking of what to do next. People were looking at the pair of you, some probably recognizing Nikki from his band. You rolled your eyes, stepping forward.

“Listen to me, I’m not getting on. I don’t know you.” His look softened and it was like for the first time he understood what the issue was.

“I just want to make sure that you make it home safe. I know you don’t want anything happening to you. It would feel like my responsibility if you went missing after doing the band's makeup.” you rolled your eyes. Eyeing him and the bike. It had been a long day and it was onlya  five minute drive. What was the worst that could happen?

1:02AM The worst thing that could happen was happening.

When you got on the back of Nikki’s Harley he had asked where you lived. As he drove, you wrapped around his back you realized for the first time of the night you were smiling a genuine wife smile.

Watching the lights of the Strip and the hustle and bustle fly by when wrapped around his warm body, the noie drowned out by the roar of the bike was nice. It felt good. So when you pulled up on your street and he asked if you wanted to drive around more you didn't say no like you should have.

Weaving around the empty highways with just the pair of you was nice. There was no conversations but it felt like you two were getting to know each other on another level.

3:55AM Nikki pulled the bike into a donut shop on the side of the highway. The smell of fresh baked pastries and coffee brewing awakening you much like the wind whipping your face had been keeping you awake but it had been almost twenty four hours awake.

The pair of your ordered black coffee and a donut, sitting on stools at the counter and eating in a comfortable silence.

“Are you mad at me?” He didn’t have a cheeky grin on his face like you had expected but he was serious. “I know you said you wouldn’t go out with me but it just seemed like you were having a bad day and I have a hero complex.” you snorted when he said this. Surprised he admitted that he had a heroes complex.

“I’m not mad. I got on the back of your bike and stayed out.” you thought for a second, “I think I needed it. I always follow my rules and never break them. I think sometimes I need a break from the rules I create.” you said all this with your heart beating wondering what the hell you were doing with this guy in the middle of nowhere.

5:41AM Nikki had wrapped his leather jacket around you, both your boots abandoned by the motorcycle as you sat with toes in the sand watching the sun rise over the Pacific. You hadn't even seen the sun rising over the ocean before so you were wrapped up in the orange and golds of the sky, how the inky black of the water came alive into blue and purple hues with the light.

It was beautiful.

It felt like something was washing over you as you watchined it. Something was changing as you watched the sun start a new day. A new day that you had this feeling in your bones was going to be a good day.

Wiping a tear away, you took a deep breath remembering that you had moved here to make your dreams come true and for the first time it felt like it was going to happen.

A hand on your back reminded you that you weren’t alone. His olive eyes looking at you, concerned. You wiped a tear away trying to laugh it off.

“I never saw the sunrise over the ocean. It’s beautiful,” It was at that moment, wrapped up in the beauty of everything that you realized that he was going to kiss you. The way his hand was against your check, wiping the tears away.

But you surprised both of you leaning forward to push your lips against his. Making the first move. You were breaking all of your rules for him but it felt good and you could tell you would be breaking more rules with him

6:00AM It was going to be a good day.

#nikki sixx fanfiction #Nikki Sixx #Nikki Sixx headcanon #Nikki Sixx X You #Nikki Sixx X Reader #Nikki Fucking Sixx #Nikki Sixx fanfic #Nikki Sixx Imagine #Nikki Sixx writing #Nikki Sixx Request #Request

[binniesthighs]

can u do an enemy to lovers au with han jisung where they are in a hidden fwb relationship? thank u~ 🥺

I really look some creative liberties with this one HA but the product...hehe, I hope that you enjoy it love! I also kinda accidentally made it a period piece??? Like 50′s-60′s? Idk how this happened but the vibe and the music I was listening to while writing really put me in that mood haha

blue velvet | reader x jisung |

Paring: self insert, gender neutral reader x han jisung

Genre: smut n’ angst

Tags: stripper!jisung, stripper!reader, bi!jisung, enemies (competitors) to lovers, secret relationship, friends with benefits, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, degrading names, choking, spanking, v mild spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you slippity slap it friends), creampie, cum eating, scratching, oral (reader receiving) semi-public sex, hello yes this one is kinda filthy ooooops

Word count: 3.2k

Recommended listening: Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton

Fuck. It’s hot in here. Too fucking hot.

Reconnaissance. That’s what you were doing. It was fucking disgusting. Everyone in the room was just as fake as the pleather belts that held their guts in. You had never seen anything more embarrassing in your whole life. Desperation was sweating off the walls and sunk into your skin. It made you feel sick.

You scoffed and took a long sip from your drink.

“One more?” An attentive maître d' asked you--if he could even been called that in a place like this.

You covered your hand over your glass. You refused to pay for any more of that cheap tasting shit.

Next to you a rapt group of men in suits wagged their tails at the view. She wasn’t even very pretty.

Rolling your eyes, you scoped out the rest of the room, adorned in red velvet and gold nearly everywhere. What was this? A high school musical? Even those had more class than this place.

You checked your sliver wristwatch lined by dainty diamonds. You always did like gifts. Too bad rarely anyone would get anything in return.

The girls on the stage twirled around, giving the audience the best view that they could, tiger-prowling to those waving bills in their grabby hands. They were tanned and fashioned into strappy and lacy pieces that looked like they all must have shared them. Pathetic.

“You come here often?”

He swirled some clear looking liquid in his crystal glass, the little string of olives clinking the side.

“Are you speaking to me?”

“No, I’m talking to them.” He head nodded to the same group of greasy businessmen. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time...and likely my last.”

“Huh. Tough critic.”

He didn’t look like the rest of them. Younger, reeking less of starved attention. He had golden blonde hair, and a silk white shirt unbuttoned far into a deep V. He was toned: the muscles on his arms were visible under the thin fabric and his abs made a show thanks to the abandonment of buttons. He wore dress pants perfectly fitted for his thighs. He was...attractive...but not your type.

“What’s not to like? Beautiful people, drinks to make you forget your mistakes? Not your scene?”

You rested your chin in your palm. “It’s my scene, but not this scene.”

“Suit yourself.” He took another swing, pivoting his body towards you, legs spread wide. “I think I know someone who can change you mind though.”

“In this place? Unlikely.”

“Come on...just stay a little bit longer and they’ll come out. They’re the last act of the night for a reason.” He signaled to the maître d' and whispered something into his ear. “Drinks on me. If you’ll stay?”

“Free drinks?” You put down your empty glass. “I suppose I can’t say no to that.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

It was thirty minutes till closing, and you had stayed much longer than you had liked. After all the drinks you had to pass the time, you were starting to feel a little buzz, but nothing much really phased you these days. You started to wonder if he had been pulling some kind of prank. Nothing you had seen was what he had hyped it up to be.

The lights dimmed behind you, making the room dark enough for the tiny white candles at the tables to provide the only light. Spotlights flashed on from behind you too, illuminating the U shaped stage. With the lights, the music faded into something much more sultry.

The first two girls stepped out, both of them wearing white sets that were nearly identical with sheer robes. Two others stepped out after them, this time wearing red and black. It was the same thing you had been seeing all night.

The spotlight tightened.

It was him.

He was wearing a button down and those same pants, everything seemed so tight on him, accentuating every curve of his body. Strangely, when he walked out, he was greeted with wolf-whistles and hoots. He winked back at his spectators, nearly falling out of their chairs to see him better. It was even stranger considering the audience was filled with men.

He walked around the girls on stage as if he was inspecting them, his eyes eating up every bit of their skin. He confidence was unparalleled. He would run his hands down their sides, digging his fingers into their hips. They circled around him until his body was covered with their hands, teasing the audience, just barely touching around his dick, which with his pants...there was little room for imagination.

Silent moans left his lips once they started undressing him giving him their full attention. The cheers grew even louder. Before long, he was nearly fully undressed swaying to the music. He wore nothing special, just some briefs, like any normal person would. It was...confusing.

He took turns “giving attention” to every girl, looking at them like he worshiped the ground the walked on. They would grind their bodies together, or he would pick them up in his arms, and they would wrap their long legs around him. He would pantomime fucking them from behind, screwing up his face as if he really was. Everyone went crazy for that.

It didn’t last for very long and the lights soon went all the way down, leaving the stage scattered with sweating bodies, panting as if they had just cum, entangling themselves all in eachother.

You were a bit unenthused, but it was different. There was something about him that was different.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Were the drinks enough for you?” His voice called to you just as you were about to leave. This time, he returned wearing the same silk shirt.

“I hope that I didn’t make you pay for too many.” You pouted with faux empathy.

“And the show?” He grinned a little.

“Interesting. Considering a place like this.”

He laughed a little. “I help with...the imagination.”  

“So they pretend that you’re them. I’ll admit, it’s smart.”

“You’d be surprised, somedays I get more male customers compared to most of the girls here.” He bit his lip as if recalling a memory. “They pay well too, pay for whatever they aren’t getting at home. Who am I do deny them that when it’s my job?

“You sleep with them?”

“The ones I like.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Can be. In a good way.” He let out a sharp laugh. “So. Did I prove you wrong?”

“Hmmm. I could do better.”

He popped his brows up. “You could?”

He was intriguing. You decided to give him a bite. “I dance at La Rose Rouge.”

“You dance at that overpriced, snotty ass place?” His words turned poisonous.  What’s it like dancing for a guy who’s got a stick so far up his ass--”

“--The price is right, and you get what you pay for there...especially if its me.”

“How am I not surprised?”

“I need to go, I’ve seen all I could here.” You bowed at him a little.

“Wait.” He grabbed at your arm. “I’ve still got one more thing to show you. Follow me.”

 ╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your insides were on fire as he fucked into you. Every time that he thrust into you, he was relentless and unforgiving. He was going so fast you could barely catch your breath. You were bent over some dusty old sofa in an equally dusty dressing room. You would kill him if he left bruises on your hips from how hard he was holding you.

“fuck. shit.” He panted, then reached one of his hands around to rub at your sensitive sex, slick with your excitement.

He was so fucking cocky, but he knew what the hell he was doing. He bent over your back, sucking into your skin, wrapping his arms around you to tweak your nipples. He was wrecking you from the inside out, devouring you like he had never tasted anything like you.

He kicked your legs open even farther. “Fucking moan for me, slut.”

You had barely let him hear more than a few gasps, he didn’t deserve it. You wanted him to moan for you.

“Who are you calling slut?” You said with venom.

You shoved off of him, and he looked devastated. He was cute. He even frowned regretfully like he had done something wrong.

The metal of your rings dug into his neck when you grabbed it, squeezing as hard as you could. Your hot breath snuck into his ear, “No, you fucking moan for me...slut.”

You attacked his lips, tracing the insides of his mouth with your tongue. He moaned right into you and grabbed handfuls of your ass with his two hands. Your teeth bit his lip and pulled. His dick trembled between the two of you and he rutted against your stomach to get some kind of relief.

He took one of his hands to your hair before resting his glossy brown eyes on you. “I’d do anything for you.” His voice quivered. “You ruin me.”

“Get on the floor.” You commanded him, and he did as he was told without a question, laying his bare body on the cold concrete.

The chill of the stone stung your knees, but that didn’t matter, you just wanted to see him unravel. You straddled down onto him, taking him in as you sunk down.

“oh shit,” slipped off your tongue without you having much control over it.

You rolled your core over him, back and forth, circling yourself and bouncing up and down as he rolled his eyes back, licking his lips while you did everything that you wanted. As you bounced he held on to your ass, digging his fingertips in. You had your eyes closed, so you didn’t see it when he rose is hand to slap you hard. It burned beautifully.

“—Jisung? Are you done yet? The rest of us are going out.” A female voice called, and rattled the locked door.

“FUCK OFF.” He groaned, and held onto your ass even tighter.

You let out a unamused tsk. “Jisung? That’s your real name?”

He didn’t say anything, but instead swiftly took you in his arms to lay you down. The chill of the floor startled you into wince, but it felt amazing compared to how hot you were. He entered you immediately again, then slung your legs over his shoulders. His blonde hair appeared to bounce a little with each thrust.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you dragged your nails down his arms, waterfalling pink, perfect, lines. His whole body seized at the sensation, sending him into a fury. He licked his hand from palm to fingers, not breaking your gaze as he used it to rub relentlessly at you.

You were on the edge.  

“Want my cum, you whore?”

You were close as well, and it clouded your senses--you felt yourself slipping into him after holding back for so long.

“ye-yes, I want it.”

He came in seconds, doubling over you when he did, panting like a dog, with you gasping just as hard from your own orgasm. He seemed to shake a little as he came down, nearly suffocating you with his body weight. You jiggled your hips just a little to get a rise out of him. You had guessed correctly, someone like him couldn’t take overstimulation.

“Fuck, wait, wait. I-I can’t take anymore.”

You laughed a little and stopped. “You’re no fun.”

“I thought I literally just proved to you that I’m loads of fun.”

“Mmm, I suppose.”

“You liked it?” He ran his hand through his sweaty roots.

“You made me cum, so...usually I have to fake it.”

“Really?”

You nodded.

“I’m honored.” He grinned a little pridefully.

You reached down to your hole to catch a few drops of his cum on your fingers, stretching it out a little and playing with it. He watched you as you did so, eyes wide. You stood to grab his jaw, sticking your fingers in his mouth which he eagerly sucked.

“Where have you been my whole life?” He looked up at you in wonder.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that...Jisung.”

He watched you then as you dressed, careful not to forget your gorgeous silver wristwatch.

“I won’t be coming back, so don’t expect that this will happen again.”

“Wait--” He stopped you before you grabbed the door handle. “You didn’t tell me your name--”

“--That’s something you don’t need to know.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darling, is there anything that I can get you?”

Your manager swept a caring hand to hold you by the small of your back.

“No, thank you though, love.” You shone brightly back to him.

“Just let me know? So far we’ve got a queue for you. Four gentlemen and three ladies. I expect that the tips tonight will be generous...it’s payday.”

You politely nodded. “Of course.”

“Have you been having a hard time with any of the new faces?”

You took a sip of your brandy. “Some of them have some mouth, but I’ll make them dignified. You can trust me.”

“I always do.” He gently kissed your cheek. “Ah, I forgot to mention, one of your customers brought you a gift. It’s in your dressing room; he wants you to wear it for your dance tonight.”

“I do love gifts.”

“Go get ready darling, you haven’t got much more time.”

Once you were in your dressing room, a medium sized white box waited for you on your vanity. There was no labels; no indication that it was from a luxurious brand. You opened it, and the shirt was wrapped in light pink tissue paper. It was too short to be a robe, but it was silk and white with buttons that looked more decorative rather than useful. You figured it must have been your customer’s: many of them got off to you wearing their clothes. It wasn’t your usual style, but you knew how to make anything work.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“And for our last act of the night: the wonderful, the illustrious...”

You walked out to the silent stage: meant only for you, the stage lights yellow, shrouding you in their brilliance. Your chest was bare, save for the silky shirt falling off your shoulders. They were cheering for you, throwing paper bills at you and calling your name, but you couldn’t hear them at all. You had never felt so whole in your life since being on the stage. It seemed like the rest of your days were just spent chasing some kind of feeling that merely resembled that.

Barefoot, you pranced along the stage, twirling like a ballerina even, letting the shirt billow up just so they could see your perky bottom. With all of their eyes on you, you felt like an absolute vision--like an ethereal being, desired, but impossibly attainable.

The jazz song played on by the live players, a muted trumpet and violins accompanied you. Your eyes swept across the blue velvet curtains of the booths, to every man and woman looking at you in awe. You let the shirt slip just a bit farther, revealing your back, winking. You never had to show them much. It was your charisma that they thirsted for--and that they could only get a small taste of.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darlin’ you’re a catch, an absolute catch.” Your manager snuck up behind you taking your makeup off to hand you the ridiculously fat stack of bills. “You keep us afloat baby, you know that I can’t thank you enough.” He bowed.

“Stop flattering me.” You remarked with a smirk. “I know.”

Your manager left, then the curtain to your room screeched again. He slowly stepped into the light, applauding slightly.

“He’s right you know? Even I can’t get enough of you.”

It was him, cocky smile, swept blonde hair and all.

“You again? I’m surprised that you even made it in here at all. Considering who you are.”

“What? The competition? You didn’t tell them about me, did you?”

You patted some serums into your face. “Better leave soon before they rid you of that handsome face of yours.”

“You saying that I’m handsome?” He snarked.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seeing you, I thought I made that clear? Isn’t that what you were doing when you came to my club?”

“Like what you saw?”

“I stand corrected.” He let up, advancing towards you at your vanity. “And you look just as stunning in my shirt as I thought you would.”

“Your...this is yours? How the hell did you mange that?”

“I have my ways.”

“I suppose you want it back then.”

“No...you can keep it...if you promise me one thing.”

“And what would that be?”

He reached out for your hands, which you tentatively took. He swept you up, pulling you into his chest with eyes dipped in lust.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” He spoke onto your lips with heated breath.

You would’ve been lying if you had said his lips didn’t look appetizing.

“One more time.”

“Bold of you to assume that I’d want to fuck you again.”

“You haven’t been thinking of it too? My hands on your body...”He caressed your body down, “My lips on yours?” He pulled you in by the chin to carefully part your lips with his. “My dick filling you up?” He pulled you in closer to feel his pulsating dick. “You don’t think about it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you want me. All you have to do is say it and I’m yours.”

“You’re looking to get killed if they know you’ve touched me.”

“I’d happily die for you.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that...Jisung.”

His lips fell to your neck where he pressed slow kisses onto it. “Just say it...”

The cool of his saliva on your skin met the air, tingling. You couldn’t believe you found yourself considering...

“I know you want to...”

“This won’t be a common occurrence.” You got out, suppressing your moans.

“Is that a yes?”

“...yes.”

“And we’ll see about that.” He slyly grinned, meeting your lips once again.

He swept you up, and your legs naturally wrapped around him. He carried you out of the dressing room to the main hall, pulling you both into the nearest booth, drawing the blue velvet curtains behind him. His eyes devoured you, casting aside his silk shirt that loosely clung to you. You threw your weight onto the table, opening your legs for him, inviting him. He chuckled a little at the action.

“I can imagine you must’ve been thinking of this as well then.” He kissed down your stomach, removing what underwear you were barely wearing. He kissed and sucked at the skin in your inner thighs, kindling your excitement. Spit gathered on his tongue, which he let drip down to your sex which glistened for him.

Your core begged for that feeling once again, that feeling only he could give you: the one that made you feel alive, like you weren’t just chasing some impossibility.

He lapped at you slowly with his tongue, awakening your whole body.

“I fucking want you.”

#FRICK I LOVE THIS CONCEPT #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #jisung x reader #jisung x y/n #han jisung smut #stray kids asks #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop oneshots #stray kids angst

[weasleyswhor3]

“I’m jealous, Angel” (George Weasley x reader)

Warnings: Smut

A/N: this is a wee halloween fic as tomorrow is halloween, wrote it rather quickly but hope you all still enjoy my second fic x

Word count: 6.3k

Halloween. The one day a year you could dress up as out there as you like, and no one seems to care, actually you get praised for it. Halloween at Hogwarts was always fun, a huge feast in an appropriately decorated Great Hall, then later on each house would host a not so secret common room party, usually one of the biggest ones throughout the year, everyone went, whether it was there own house or sneaking into a different common room. People planned for months, stocking up firewhisky and even those with muggle family’s sneaking in all different types of drinks. Y/N was sad this was her last Halloween at Hogwarts, having years of fond memories from this time of year.

Giggles and tumbles could be heard from every room in the tower, girls usually tipsy while getting ready, Gabby, my best friend, currently lying in on the floor in fits of tears as she couldn’t stop laughing at something I clearly missed. “Get up Gabs, your gonna ruin your outfit!” I said to her reaching my hand out to help her up, she looked amazing, she went for a cat this year, she has dark smoky makeup on, cute wee cat ears and a gorgeous little black dress. “Tonight’s going to be the night!” she exclaims, myself, and our other two roommates all glance at each other and roll our eyes, replying with a choir of “Sure”, “Whatever you say Gabs!” “About time!”, you see Gabby has had the biggest crush on Dean Thomas since starting back in September, only issue was she never really saw him, being two years apart caused quite a boundary between them too, but Gabby was certain tonight was gonna be the night to cross that boundary. I was excited for her, she hadn’t shown interest in anyone since Oliver Wood left, so it was about time she got back out there.

I stared at myself in my full length mirror, this year I had gone for an Angel, I wore a small white tennis skirt with a simple white cami top that had lace detail over the neckline, I paired it with knee high white stockings and a small pair of silver heels to match my silver wings placed on my back, my hair was curled into loose waves and I opted for subtle makeup with decorative white glitter scattered on my cheekbones. I look quite good. “George is gonna love you tonight, you look hot!” Gabby said as she brought me into into a drunken embrace, I blushed at her words, hoping indeed my boyfriend would enjoy my outfit. I needed more alcohol to catch up with her it seemed, so I grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey from her bed and drank as much as I could in one go, while my friends cheered me on. Soon we could hear the music start down in the Common Room so we planned our strategical late entrance, deciding to wait another half an hour until heading down.

30 minutes passed and we were definitely a lot drunker than before, but regardless we got our heels on and we prepared to make our entrance, feeling myself get slightly insecure looking around my friends, they were the IT girls of our year, every boy dreamed of getting one of them for the night, people would argue I was one too, but I had been happily with George for 3 years now, so I never really saw myself as one, but I didn’t want it any other way, I was so completely in love with George. My insecurities washed away immediately as I walked into the common room, with not even one minute passing before being approached by the 6 foot redhead I was so lucky to call mine, smirk evident on his face he maintains eye contact with me, only once breaking it to glance down at my body, when he was close enough he leaned into my ear and whispered “Holy shit Y/N, what are you wearing?”, without giving me time to respond he grips my cheek and brings my head round to place a soft kiss on my lips, deepening it as I kissed him back, soon it became slightly aggressive in the sexiest way possible as his hands ran over my lower back while my arms were wrapped around his neck. I pulled away, giggling as I muttered his name “George, I only got here, save that for later” I winked up at him, he smiled back down at me, “Can’t help it princess, you look so hot” Guess Gabby was right. George scans your body again, hands roaming down your waist and going to play with the hem of your short skirt, you slap his hand away, leaning up on your tip toes to level beside his ear, whispering “later.” As you walk away backwards you run your small hand down his arm, shooting him another wink and running off to find Gabby.

I find her among a group gathered in the far corner of the common room, noticing Dean was also in this particular group, I let out a soft laugh as I work my way through the group towards her, I poked her side and she wipped her head round, long dark hair almost hitting me in the face, she let out a excited yell as she pulled me into another drunken embrace, but only this time, way drunker than before, I look around the circle laughing “What the hell did you give her to drink?”, much to my surprise, Dean returns my laugh and states “I’m not quite sure actually, someone gave some to me and It tasted good so I got her some” Dean got her a drink. I laughed again, returning my gaze to her as she had a smirk on her face knowing exactly what I was thinking. Conversation began flowing as the night carried on, me and Gabby continually taking over the dance floor, probably making absolute fools of ourselves but we were having fun, that’s all that mattered. Little did I know, a certain someone watching me was not having as much fun, George was getting impatient, I had hardly spend anytime with him all night, too caught up in my best friends new conquest.

While myself and Gabby were over at the table getting ourselves a drink that we definitely didn’t need, Dean approached her, I watched out the corner of my eye as his hand gently rested on her hip as he whispered something in her ear, I couldn’t hear it but when he grabber her hand and they began to walk away, not before Gabby turned her head back in my direction giving me a wink. I got the idea. Excitedly I scan the room, looking for someone to express my happiness too, my eyes landed on my boyfriend, who was already staring at me, with a bored expression on his face while sat with his friends. I ran over to him , throwing myself on his lap, “Did you JUST see what happened!” I whisper-shouted, he responded with a raise of his eyebrows and a small nod, this reaction making me frown, “What’s wrong gorgeous?” I asked while cupping his face before running my hands through his hair, I noticed his mood lighten slightly at this small sign of affection but still remaining silent for a few moments before making eye contact with me, “I haven’t seen you all night Y/N, you ran off and have left me all night to watch you from across the room, running around in that short wee skirt, downing drink after drink as every boy who caught sight of you drooled over your gorgeous legs and perky bum peeking out every time you jumped about with gabby, it’s not fair Y/N, it’s torturing me!” as soon as he finishes he lifts you off his lap and walks towards the boys dorms, leaving you standing their speechless and slightly confused, you never meant to upset him, or make him jealous, you were just having a good time with your best friend.

Your shook from your thoughts as you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, looking up to see Fred giving you a sympathetic smile, nodding towards the stairs your boyfriend just disappeared up, “You should follow him Y/N, been in a fowl mood all night, couldn’t handle seeing you being watched by so many boys, go remind him that your all his,” he says, dropping you a wink and pushing you slightly towards the stairs, you return a small smile and a grateful nod as you run up after your boyfriend. Standing now outside his dorm room door, you knock once before walking in anyway, and there he is, shirt now discarded on the floor while he sits at the edge of his bed with his hands in his head. He knew it was you. You walk over to him, standing in front of him as you reach your hands to play with his hair, he lifts his head to look at your face, sorry written all over it. You take a seat beside George, his eyes following you, it’s your turn to look down at the floor, “I’m sorry Georgie, I should of noticed how little I was around you tonight, I was too caught up in Gabbys night I forgot about our night, it was silly of me.” You were now looking into his brown eyes, giving him a small smile in hope he would accept your apology, “I’m being selfish Y/N, i’m always selfish, I want you all to myself, I hate seeing other boys look at you the way I do, I don’t blame them but I doesn’t stop me wanting to smash their faces in,” You can’t help but let a giggle slip from your lips, he also lets a small smile shine through before continuing, “You are so unbelievable Y/N, I know what they all think of you, how much they would want to see your perfect body and beautiful face below them, your soft lips all over them, ugh- i feel sick thinking about it...I’m jealous, Angel”

Your heart broke hearing George get so worked up over other boys, your mind blown at the fact he could ever believe you wanted anyone that wasn’t him. You grab his face, bringing him in for a kiss that was full of so much passion and promise, his hand finding itself a spot on your stomach which his finger tips ghosting your waist, you pull away, keeping your hands on his face, “George I don’t want anyone else, i’m all yours baby, forever, your it for me. I don’t care how many boys look at me or what they think about me, I only care about you. Don’t be jealous, please, they all know they could never be you, and you should know, even when i’m not showing you, you have all of me, all of it.” Slowly you swing yourself over, now straddling his lap, caressing his face with your thumbs on each cheek, “I love you Y/N” George says before taking control, bringing you back in for a kiss, which soon turned into a make-out, his hands proudly grabbing your bum as your wrap your arms around his neck, playing and tugging the hair at the nape of his neck. You knew this was George’s weakness so when he let out a deep groan into the kiss you knew this was going where you wanted it to.

Suddenly you were lifted and slammed into the mattress you were sitting on moments ago, his hands not once leaving their position on your bum, or breaking the kiss, “George,” you moan into the kiss as you can feel is hardening member against your core, sex with George always excited you, no matter how long you had been together. Breaking apart for air, he inches towards your ear, “You look so hot, my dirty wee girl dressed up all innocent and angelic, you drive me crazy Y/N, fucking crazy” -” Show me how crazy” you reply sharply, knowing how much challenging him turns him on. His eyes darken while you look up at him with big soft eyes, trying to look as innocent as possible. Something in him snaps, “Stand up. Strip. Keep the skirt and stockings on.” You jump up, starting with your heels, while he sat on the edge of the bed watching you, next the wings, the top, the white bralet and lastly your panties, throwing them at him as you giggle, he catches them with one hand, placing them down beside his legs, he sucks in a breath before ushering you to stand between his legs, as soon as you are in touching distance his hands are at the back of your thighs, rubbing the soft skin, he leans forward taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin, causing you to let out a whine, his hand running up your thigh under your skirt, delivering a loud smack to your cheek, jolting forward, George mutters “Louder princess, let all them boys know who you belong to,” and with that he repeats his assault on your nipple but now both hands squeezing your behind, you completely fall into a state of bliss and release a loud high pitched moan, “That’s more like it” George smirks, proud of how easily he gets you worked up, grabbing you waist, he pulls you down to the bed before moving back on top of your half naked body.

George couldn’t lie, you did look quite angelic laying there waiting for his next move, looking up at him as if he put the stars in the sky, he was so in love with you.

His thoughts interrupted as he catches one of your hands run over your chest, and the other move down towards your clit, you begin to play with your nipple while rubbing circles over you now dripping pussy, George is in awe, those angelic thoughts being erased as he watches his girlfriend throw her head back into his mattress as she pleasures herself, he could feel himself growing hot and definitely harder, hearing her soft moans, he knew if he didn’t stop her now he wouldn't at all. Grabbing your wrist, halting your actions, opening your eyes to give him that same soft innocent look, he brings his hand up around her neck, chocking her gently, “Stop acting so fucking innocent, stop acting like you aren’t my wee slut, can’t even wait for me to touch you, need to do it yourself, dirty, dirty girl,” his words cause you to moan out, “George, I want your cock, please, I need you!”, rutting your hips up to brush against his. As if he needed anymore than that, he quickly undoes his trousers, pulling them down his legs, throwing them into the pile of clothes you had created, he kneels on the floor beside his bed, grabbing you from being your stocking covered knees, pulling you towards him so your core was right in front of his face, he glances up at you, shooting you a wink before his head disappeared under your skirt. Feeling his tongue flick up and down your burning heat turned you into a moaning mess, his name slipping from your dirty mouth egged George on, flattening his tongue against your clit as he licks a slip slowly up, placing a kiss on the soft shaven skin before surprising you by slipping his tongue into your hole, repeating this action until your hands run through his hair, tugging at it, he moans into your core, causing you to grab a fistful of his ginger locks. He lifts his head from under your skirt, catching your view as he brings his thumb up to wipe is lower lip and chin, not once looking away, he smirks and brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks all the access off, your breath hitches in your throat and he lets out a chuckle as he stands up and begins to take off his boxers, your excitement growing in your stomach.

His dick, standing thick against his stomach, tip red with neglect, but George didn’t mind, as long as his girl was satisfied, “You want it angel, you want my cock?” he says as he leans back onto the bed, you whine “Yes George, want your big cock, please.” He leans down placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on you lips, admiring your blushed cheeks as he grabs the hem on your skirt, moving it up around your waist. Breaking the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours, he slowly inch by inch presses his dick into your entrance, both of you unable to control your moans, the room becomes filled with panting, whines, moans and mutters of each others names as his pace increases, your hands digging into his shoulders and his hand firmly on your waist, keeping your tiny body in his control. “So fucking wet Y/N, so perfect” George grunts before catching your lips with his, causing a very messy make-out between the two of you, “I’m gonna cum Georgie!” you say catching your breath again, “Me too princess, come with me.” You let go and released around his thick cock, the warm wetness sending George over the edge as he fills you with his cum, collapsing on top of you, before removing his dick he kisses you, “I love you so much Y/N”, you return the kiss, smiling up at him, “I love you too gorgeous.” Removing himself from you he stands up, you following him by siting up on the edge of the bed, scared your legs will fail you. George reaches to the back of your skirt, undoing the zip, you catch the memo and lie back down, raising your hips so he can remove the skirt from your body, throwing it down before going back for your stockings, them also joining the pile of clothes. Now both completely naked, he picks you up, taking you to the attached bathroom and setting you down on the counter, both feeling no need to talk, he begins to remove your makeup, kissing you when hes finished, finding a towel he soaks it with harm water, cleaning up the mess now dripping down your thighs, kissing the soft skin like before when hes done. Picking you back up he carries you to bed, setting you down, leaving space for himself to crawl in after you.

He pulls your naked body into his and kisses your forehead, “I’m yours forever Y/N too, that’s if you want to keep me,”  George says, without looking at him you knew he was smiling, lifting your head to look at him, “Forever Georgie,” 

#george weasley smut #george weasley #george weasley imagine #weasley twins #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #weasley smut

[astranva]

Power BFFs.

// masterlist //

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff best friend!harry, best friend!reader

Warning: None!

Summary: In which Harry’s best friend is a hijabi blogger and they’re everyone’s bffs’ goals.

Bonus: Instagram posts!

..

For as long as you lived, you have always been into fashion. You were the kid who chose to wear pink with orange long before Taylor Swift’s dress was the new cool, always one whom family went to for advice when it came to putting outfits together.

Hell, if someone could pay you for the times your mom was on the phone with your aunt or a friend and you heard her tell them “Y/N can help you with putting the clothes together! She studies fashion. Yeah, not a doctor but she’s doing a good job” you would be a billionaire.

You remember how shocked your parents were when you told them that you wanted to switch majors. How could they not when you told them that you decided to leave med school for fashion?

But you wouldn’t have taken the step if it weren’t for your longtime best friend – Harry.

You and Harry have been best friends for as long as you could remember, having had been your friend long before you even wore the hijab and you remember when you were 16 after deciding to wear it, having sat him down one day and explained to him what it meant.

He has always been supportive of you, and you, of him. You lost count of how many times you had helped him with his wardrobe choices, and every time he was more thankful that he had someone who was daring with fashion and saw it as he did; a form of expression.

You had a good relationship with his fans long before you decided to enter the fashion blogging world, and maybe fans liked you more because of how carefree and natural you were and how innocent and supportive your friendship with Harry looked. Hell, he talked about you whenever he mentioned his family and if that said anything, it would be that he saw you a Styles, a sister.

It was always fun whenever you styled Harry for an appearance, only so the both of you could sit back and watch their tweets and comments, always freaking out and gushing over how good he looked because of your fashion choices, adding memes along the way.

“How does that look?” You asked him, holding a dress on a hanger of you, looking down at the vibrant green color.

Harry, with 3 shopping bags in his hands and his eyeglasses on, shifted his weight on one leg before bringing his finger to his chin and he looked at the dress. “Think it makes your skin look a little dull, not pop.”

“You think so?” You mumbled as you moved to a mirror, nodding, “You’re right. God, I hate green.”

He chuckled, “No you don’t.”

“Olive green is nice, when we’re talking about trousers and skirts but tops and dresses? No, thanks. Looks good on you though, you lucky bastard.”

“Watch out, you’re looking a little green now, love.” Harry teased, a dimpled smile on his face.

“Oh, shut up, I’m not jealous of you.” You scoffed jokingly, fixing your headscarf to avoid looking at him, “Maybe a little.” You added, laughing quietly as Harry laughed.

“I think they have a beige one, hold on.” Harry’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he looked around before walking towards a rack, searching through the colors of dresses for the one color he knew his best friend loved. “Ha!” Harry smiled in triumph as he reached the color, getting your size before holding it out for you.

You sighed in relief, “You are an angel. Sometimes.”

Harry rolled his eyes at you with a chuckle, handing you the dress before you both agreed to pay and head somewhere to have dessert for a treat.

You smiled at the cashier, watching as her eyes widened as she looked from Harry to you. “How are you?” You asked politely.

“Oh my God. Y-You’re-“ She looked at you before looking at Harry who smiled at her, too, “And you’re-“

“And you’re Sasha. Hi, Sasha.” You giggled, reading her name from her tag, “You know this goof?” You joked, pointing at Harry, “Was following me everywhere here,” you cupped a hand around your mouth, though still speaking at a tone louder than a whisper, “Think he’s a bit of a creep.”

“Hey!” Harry whined but laughed, “Don’t listen to her, love. She’s only doing that because I look better in green.”

It wasn’t unusual for you and Harry to tease each other, and it wasn’t new either that you did it in front of people. Perhaps it’s why people enjoyed being around the both of you together.

“You’re both adorable,” the girl laughed, finally calming from her moment, “I’m a huge fan of the both of you. And Y/N, congratulations on your new collaboration with Tommy Hilfiger. I think it’s amazing that you’re helping in representing more people in the industry.”

Your mischievous expression changed to a softer one, your hand going to your heart as your eyes twinkled.

“Right? Bloody talented that one is.” Harry smiled proudly as he glanced down at you, “Making history as she goes.”

“Aw, stop it, you two. I’m going to cry.” You cooed, “Thank you, Sasha. This means the world to me. Think this made my entire week.”

“It’s no problem,” she beamed, “I wouldn’t let you pay if I owned the store but…” she frowned.

“Hey, no. It’s your right. We all have bills to pay and as much as it would be nice, favors don’t really pay the rent.” You smiled with a shrug, handing her the money.

“Okay, true.” Sasha agreed, packing your dress before handing you the bag. “It was amazing meeting the both of you.”

“You think it’s okay if we get a picture together?” You asked before looking at Harry, “Can you take a picture of us?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh my God,” Sasha fanned herself before letting out a deep breath, shakily handing Harry her phone, “This is the best day I have ever lived in since I started working here.”

You giggled at that, watching her move from behind the cashier before she reached you. The both of you stood beside each other, you wrapping both arms around her as you smiled, her beaming as Harry took the picture – he took 3, just in case the girl didn’t like one of them – before you reached your hand out.

“Here, let me take your picture.” You said, taking the phone from Harry before exchanging places so you can snap a picture of him and the girl together.

As if to tease you, Harry made the same pose as yours, causing you to roll your eyes before you jokingly told him to “be original” to which he wrapped one arm around Sasha while the other was close to his face as he threw a peace sign – a classic Harry pose.

After hugging Sasha goodbye, you and Harry were on your way to his car to go somewhere else to have dessert and maybe spill the latest tea like you always did.

“I’m not so sure about working with them,” You said after taking a sip from your smoothie, resting your chin on your hand as you talked about a brand that had reached you for a collab, “Think they want it so they can look cool, you know? They don’t really care about the message or the representation of hijabi women and I just don’t want to get treated like the next cool trend and hey! Bonus for having a rockstar best friend. It’s ridiculous.”

Harry’s arms were crossed on the table, face showing concentration as he listened intently and nodded in understatement. “I get it. Sorry about that, love,” he sighed, “Wish I can do something about it. Feel helpless when I can’t seem to find any solution to offer.”

“Harry,” you rolled your eyes, “You’ve done enough for people. Besides, you’re growing and learning. This is the best solution.”

“Yeah?” He asked reluctantly, “Just sucks whenever I find the shit they write to you online. Don’t know how you do it.”

“What? Getting told that I’m oppressed even though it was my choice and the racist comments?” You chuckled a little, “Got bothered by it enough already. Just sick of justifying my choices. It’s like,” you thought before your eyebrows went up before pointing at him, “It’s like people with you and how you dress. The mean comments about your choices and the head-scratching comments about why you wear nail polish.”

“Took me long enough to feel comfortable in my skin.” Harry admitted, sighing with a shake of his head, “Wish people would just let people be.”

You shrugged, “Mean people are everywhere, it’s mostly about not letting yourself be one now. I actually feel like we’re at a time when people are unlearning most shit they blindly followed by older generations, the racism, the sexism, the double standards. This is generation is just,” you smiled, “It’s phenomenal, don’t you think?”

Harry joined in, giving you a smile and a nod, “It is. I’m where I am because of all these young people. Music legends are legends and are basically worshipped because of all the young women of their days. Sometimes I can’t even wrap my head around how societies belittle these people so much.”

“Right? They care more about shaping them than helping them unleash all this potential. It’s why they’re so angry sometimes, but so driven. Like, they had enough of silence and are now taking matters in their own hands.” You said, “But to be honest, it’s can be kind of sad sometimes.”

“How so?” Harry asked, sipping his smoothie.

“Like now you have people as young as 13 doing what world leaders should be doing. Really young people trying to teach older people why sexism is wrong and how they can help the Black Lives Matter movement and why they should. They shouldn’t be defending rights and protesting and dying, they should be worrying about their moms not cutting the crust off of their toasts or maybe some high school crushes. But it has to be done, you know? And if world leaders are staying silent, somebody needs to change that even if they’re only 13 for the love of God.”

That was the thing about yours and Harry’s friendship. While you both bickered like children all the time, you also always had heart-to-heart conversations that you couldn’t have with anyone and everyone. It was always comforting.

There were times when you didn’t agree with each other but it was never embarrassing or immature, you’d both state your point of views and find common grounds. It was never about winning an argument because you never could call it an “argument”, just a talk.

“How’s the tour rescheduling going?” You asked, the both of you drifting to another conversation.

//

harrystyles: Proud of you. Always.

..

fan0 CRYING

fan1 power bffs don’t @ me

fan2 are they dating? pls say yes

↳ fan3 when will people stop ruining friendships with shit like that?

yourinstagram are u sick?

↳ fan4 me when my family is nice to me

↳ fan5 me when my friends invite me to places

↳ harrystyles …

yourinstagram you know it all, H. you’re the best best friend anyone could ever wish for. cool photographer too. ❤❤❤

↳ fan7 HE TOOK THAT PICTURE HE’S SO TALENTED

↳ fan8 Hélène Pambrun who? We only know ✨Harry Styles✨

↳ yourinstagram don’t do my girl Hélène dirty like that

annetwist Looking beautiful! 😘

↳ fan8 I love this friendship sm

↳ yourinstagram says you! miss you loads xx

yourinstagram: harry out here looking like mr. pringles on a sour cream & onion can and i love it

..

fan0 HAHAH DEAD

fan1 ADHQWJDIEFIGHEFH HONTENT

fan2 y/n taking the piss at harry is my favorite thing

fan3 10 years of y/n giving us the hontent we need and deserve

↳ yourinstagram happy to provide

user aren’t muslims not allowed to drink wine?? why is harry holding one and why are YOU taking a picture of it? Lol

↳ fan4 leave her alone

↳ fan5 you know she’s free to do anything she wants, right?

↳ yourinstagram this is the amazing chef Massimo Bottura’s dark cherry balsamic vinegar but go off

↳ fan6 ENDED

fan7 This friendship makes me sleep better at night

harrystyles Is this because I look good in green?

↳ fan8 AJDGFKJWOI SHOW OFF

↳ fan9 I love them so much

↳ yourinstagram i dislike you sometimes

↳ fan10 ^ me because harry won’t release studio versions of medicine and anna

↳ harrystyles Love you, too.

 yourinstagram: silky

..

fan0 LOOKS LIKE HARRY’S OUTFIT FROM TOUR IN NETHERLANDS

fan1 imagine looking like that

fan2 this is an au where harry is a hijabi woman

[harrystyles liked this comment.]

↳ fan3 OH MY GOD HE LIKED

↳ fan4 he: confirmed

harrystyles A look.

↳ fan5 I want to thank the queen y/n for teaching harry online lingo

#for my girls #wellbeafinelime #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff imagine #Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #fluff #fluff one shot #hijabi!reader #best friend harry #best friend!harry #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake social media #harry styles instagram #hijabi

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety.  Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them.  Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read. 

 Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out. 

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?” 

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored. 

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!” 

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked. 

“...No.” 

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?” 

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?” 

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained. 

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously. 

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?” 

Virgil waited. 

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added. 

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure. 

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly. 

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.” 

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!” 

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone. 

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to. 

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop. 

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully. 

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them. 

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?” 

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.” 

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.” 

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight. 

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.” 

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”  

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped. 

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?” 

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.” 

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie. 

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.” 

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?” 

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over. 

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?” 

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.” 

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment. 

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.” 

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket. 

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?” 

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them. 

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something? 

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible. 

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it. 

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion. 

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.” 

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?” 

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.” 

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say. 

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe. 

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?” 

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.” 

“Right, right,” Virgil said. 

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked. 

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him. 

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?” 

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?” 

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.” 

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?” 

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed. 

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off. 

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face. 

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear. 

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked. 

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.” 

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. 

Logan shook his head. “No, never.” 

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness. 

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired. 

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building. 

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area. 

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway. 

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby. 

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired. 

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.” 

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.” 

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?” 

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him. 

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him. 

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up. 

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.” 

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries. 

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly. 

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began. 

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise. 

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.” 

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face. 

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.” 

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding. 

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus. 

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words. 

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it. 

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly. 

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead. 

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees. 

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red. 

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.” 

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it. 

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.” 

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus. 

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.” 

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.” 

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?” 

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?” 

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed. 

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees. 

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?” 

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while. 

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!” 

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge. 

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked. 

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully. 

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?” 

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page. 

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.” 

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching. 

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?” 

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.” 

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”  

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.” 

“But, like, research? Drafts?” 

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil. 

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him. 

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.” 

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.” 

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to. 

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.” 

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?” 

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking. 

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?” 

Logan perked up. “Really?” 

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it. 

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?” 

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05 

#analogical #analogicalweek #analogical week #thomas sanders #sanders sides #thatsthat24 #logan sanders #virgil sanders #ts logan #ts virgil #romantic analogical #platonic analogical #dukeceit #romantic dukeceit #platonic dukexiety #remus sanders #ts remus #janus sanders #ts janus #nonbinary remus #nonbinary janus #ts fic #ts fanfic #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #language #peregrin's starlight universe

[sunmoonandeddie]

pandemic overload

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2,136

summary: You need an escape from everything, and Bucky is more than happy to give it to you.

warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF.  Bad words.  Bucky does think a naughty thing or two lol

a/n:  Thank you so much to @marylizabetha for this commission!!!!  I had so much fun with it, and honestly it was nice to get to write about escaping all of this nonsense for a little bit!!!!

He saw it when he came home from grocery shopping.  The quiver of your bottom lip.  He’d only been gone for about two hours—shopping for groceries for a super soldier can take a while, after all—but even so, it had made you anxious.  Everything about the last seven months or so made you anxious.  And he couldn’t blame you.  People were dying and it was just… frustrating how so many people didn’t seem to care.  At all.

Bucky had been the only one to leave the town house you two shared in that entire time, unless you counted the times you’d sit out on the front stoop and work on a Sudoku puzzle.  But that was a decision you had made very early on.  He was a super soldier that couldn’t get sick.  You were just a normal human.

It didn’t mean that you weren’t scared for him every time he walked outside.

Thankfully, it hadn’t taken much to convince you to stay home, even though you had to quit your job.  It wasn’t exactly the most… important thing in the world.  It wasn’t even in your field of interest.  Just a pit stop until you could put your degree to use.

But it looked like that wouldn’t be happening for a little while longer.

Technically, with how much money Bucky made from being a non-active Avenger on top of back pay from being a prisoner of war for seventy years or so and also being on an elite strike force during World War II, you would never have to work a day in your life if you didn’t want.  And, to be perfectly honest, a big part of you was seriously considering it.  It was nice to be able to sit around and do whatever you wanted to do.  You and Bucky helped each other with all the chores and such, but then you had an otherwise empty day to fill.  You’d taken up knitting and learning to play piano and yes, you did join in on that trend of people learning how to make sourdough bread from scratch.  You two had also gotten to up the amount of time you spent trying to make a positive change in the world, and you’d taken Bucky to his first twenty-first century protest.  Not a single cop had dared to fuck with you or anyone else with the former Winter Soldier by your side.

The perks of having a super intimidating boyfriend, right?

It would be completely perfect if it wasn’t for the fact that you had to stay because otherwise you might get sick.

But you were actually considering choosing to just… continue not working once all of it was over.  You and Bucky could do anything you wanted to do.  You could travel the world, maybe eventually adopt a few kids…  The possibilities were endless, especially since your boyfriend had surprised you by paying off all your student loans in one fell swoop.

Yeah, that… that had brought on more than a few tears.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile over at you as he put away the groceries, calling out everything to you.  You were sitting up on the counter, pretty as a picture, with your legs swinging back and forth as you put in everything he’d bought to that fancy app on your phone that took everything you had in your fridge and gave you a list of recipes you could make from it.

Last week the two of you had gotten your favorite recipe so far, grilled mahi mahi tacos with a sweet pineapple salsa that served a bit of a kick at the end.

Fish so nice, they named it twice.

Bucky’s pandemic hobby had become cooking.  A lot of the time, you two just ordered food in, which was a horrible habit.  But you couldn’t help it.  You both were so busy and neither of you really had the energy or patience to cook most of the time.

But spending everyday at home meant that Bucky finally had time to learn how to do something other than boil food, and he was actually pretty good at it.

“Baby doll, let’s go on a date.”

You looked up from your phone in surprise.  “A…  A date?  Bucky Bear…  I hate to break it to you, but…  We can’t exactly go anywhere,” you said with a weak laugh.  As good as it was to be able to sit at home and work on your hobbies, you were often overwhelmed with the thoughts about how so many people were suffering because of how selfish others were.

He put the last bell pepper away in the fridge before moving to stand between your legs, his hands running over your thighs.  “Now that’s not true, sweetheart,” he said as he pressed sweet kisses along your jawline.  “I wanna take you somewhere special, okay?  We haven’t gotten to dress up in a long time…  So how about you get your cute ass in the shower and get yourself all dolled up, yeah?  I wanna treat my girl.”

Ugh.  He always knew exactly what to say to make you melt.

“Okay,” you giggled, nuzzling your nose against his.  But you took your own sweet time getting off the counter, choosing instead to wrap your legs around him and pull him in for an impromptu makeout session.

What can you say?  Your man was hot as fuck and a good ass kisser.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his hands roaming down your sides to your ass.  He gave a playful squeeze before slowly breaking the kiss, letting it linger far longer than what would be considered necessary.  “But you have to go shower and get ready, baby girl.  I gotta jump in one, too.  I wanna be nice and fresh for my girl.  Now go on.”

A purse of your lower lip.  “You don’t wanna join me?”

“Now, that’s not what I said, you little minx,” he said, tickling your sides and sending you into a fit of giggles.  “But if I get in with you, we aren’t gonna make it out for a long, long time.  And then you won’t get your surprise.”

“Fine, fine,” you groaned, pushing against his chest so you could slide off the counter.  “Bossy.”  You shot him a wink as you headed upstairs, and he can’t help but stare at your ass.

God bless the quarantine weight you’d gained.

Granted, he always loved your body—if you like the girl, you’re gonna like her body, after all—but he was still a hot-blooded man with a thing for grabbing you and loving every inch of you.

He quickly put together a basket of food, various meats and cheeses and little things like olives, and set a blanket on top of it before running upstairs to grab a shower in the guest bath.  He knew the perfect place to take you to escape the city and the suffocating threat of the pandemic.

“You gonna tell me where we’re going or not, Sarge?” You asked as you appeared in the doorway.

He looked up from where he sat at the kitchen island, and the breath was knocked straight from his lungs.  Thank god he’d already stowed the basket and blanket away in the trunk, because he would’ve completely forgotten at the sight of you.  “Holy shit, sugar…,” he whispered as he got up.  He moved towards you, strong hands grabbing your hips and pulling you into a kiss.  He knew he had to be careful about grabbing your face, not wanting to mess up the makeup you’d just put on for the first time in months.  But you’d also learned not to wear a lip product that would smear on your first date, so you both had rules about makeup now.

The fabric of your yellow sundress rested against your skin so gently, and he would be ashamed to admit that for just a second, he was jealous of a piece of clothing.  He wanted to be that close to you always, wanted to feel your skin and draw little shapes over your heart.

Maybe he’d strip it off of you the second he got you to the spot, just so he could rest his head in the valley of your breasts and listen to the steady beating of your heart.  You knew that he could hear it even just standing beside you, but you wouldn’t call him out on it.

TLC played on the radio the entire drive, his hand on your thigh except for when he needed to shift gears.  Out of all the decades of music you were working to catch him up on, the nineties were your favorite.

Not that he’d ever disagree.  No.  Not when he got to watch you with one arm out the window, your hand making waves in the wind as you sang at the top of your lungs.

Just being out of the house for less than an hour was doing you so much good.

“Bucky, you aren’t going to kill me, right?” You asked with a laugh as he parked the car in a small lot at the entrance of a trail.  “Because I really figured you would’ve done that by now, you know.”

“Nah, baby,” he said as he popped the trunk, smirking at the surprised look on your face at the sight of the basket.  The trunk closed with a slam as he tossed you the blanket, moving to your side and holding your free hand in his before leading you down the trail.  “If I wanted to murder you, I’d have done it by now.  Besides, you’re too pretty to kill.  I’d miss looking at you everyday.”

“You’re an absolute cheese ball,” you laughed, nudging his hip with yours.  Not that it actually did anything.

Ah, the disadvantages you had when it came to play fighting with your super soldier boyfriend.  Poor you.

The trail was absolutely stunning, full of wildlife and color.  The shade the trees provided was a nice reprieve to the mid-August heat, the sunlight filtering through the leaves to dapple against your cheeks.

It was about a fifteen minute walk to the Wallkill River, and you heard the rush of the water long before you get there.

“We aren’t going swimming right?” You asked, eyeing him skeptically.  “Because I just washed my hair.”

“No,” he said, amusement lacing his tone.  “We’re not swimming.  Just having a late lunch.”  He sets down the basket and takes the blanket from you, laying it out on the small clearing on the bank.  He took his time setting up the charcuterie board, the bottle of wine, and the two pillows that he stuffed in the basket for you two to rest against.  “There.  Now it’s perfect,” he said as he held his hand out to you to help you sit down on the blanket.  “Worthy of my princess.”

A familiar roll of your eyes as he pressed sweet kisses to your cheeks, just like he did anytime he doted on you.  He only ever called you princess when he got all lovey dovey like this.

Not that you’d ever complain.

“So what’s all this for?” You asked.  Unable to stop your fit of giggles, you teetered to the side as the force of his cheek kisses grew and he made more and more obnoxious noises with it, his metal hand hooked around your waist.  “Bucky Bear…”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, leaving one last, noisy kiss to your cheek before sitting up straight.  He didn’t answer you right away, choosing instead to grab the wine and pop it open, pouring you each a glass.  He was always the designated driver, since alcohol didn’t affect him.  He was silent until you had your glass in hand, and he raised his in a toast.  “I want to celebrate us, and more specifically, you.  The past seven or so months haven’t been easy, but you’ve been a champ through it all.  And also, I think we’ve done pretty damn well on living together and being around each other almost 24/7, considering that we only moved in together in November,” he said.  His startling blue eyes were so soft as he stared at you.  “I just love you so much, and I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, my god,” you said, your eyes glassy as you shook your head.  “Bucky, you can’t say things like that when I just did my makeup!  You’re going to make me cry!”  But you didn’t mind the tears as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, your glasses clinking together.  “I love you, too.  And there’s no one else I’d rather go through this with.”

“Together,” he said, his nose nudging against yours.

“Together,” you agreed.

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

[ravenquing]

I'm never gonna properly write for it, but I keep imagining this AU where Percy is an ex-gang member of Vecna's gang.

Maybe Percy killed someone important to Vecna or he stole money, idk, but he's on the run and shit comes back to bite him in the ass.

(This has been inspired by the song "You Can Run" by Adam Jones, btw, as I've had it on repeat for 2 days now)

So uh, here, I guess. Feel free to take this and make into something more solid -

Percy comes from a wealthy family that went into debt. To try and help his parents, Percy looks for work and finds himself being recruited into a gang ran by an intimidating man known only as Vecna.

Vecna's right hand woman, Delilah Briarwood, and her husband, Sylas Briarwood, take a quick likening to Percy and introduce him to their adoptive daughter, Anna.

Anna and Percy make fast friends, until one day Percy catches Anna betraying the gang's plans to another gang.

Percy confronts her alone, thinking he can handle it, but a fight breaks out and Anna gets shot in the abdomen.

Percy panics, trying to stop the bleeding, but Delilah walks in and all hell breaks out.

Percy has to run and he does, running faster than he ever has before in all his life.

He moves to a different city, laying low and doing odd jobs to keep himself afloat.

One day he runs into Keyleth, a young florist struggling to make ends meet, being harassed by some idiot. He defends her, quite publicly too, and is spotted by one of Vecna's many members.

And thus, Percy accidentally gets Keyleth targeted by Vecna's gang.

Cue Vax'ildan, Keyleth's boyfriend and also a former gang member (who also left on bad terms with his old boss) turned tattoo artist, chasing Percy down thinking he's put a hit out on Keyleth.

When he realises Percy's situation, tho, he feels like helping the poor bastard out. He knows what this is like.

Through this, Percy meets Vax's sister and an esteemed defence attorney, Vex'ahlia.

Soon, the men after Keyleth disappear mysteriously and things calm down for Percy.

Percy falls hard for Vex, fast, while she and Vax help him change his identity and disappear from Vecna's gaze.

Percy becomes a mechanic, becomes friends with the twins and Keyleth as well as his fellow mechanics, Grog, Tary and Pike, even with Pike's husband Scanlan.

Life gets really good;

Percy & Vex start dating, Vax & Keyleth get engaged and Taryon gets a boyfriend.

But then Percy slips up somehow, takes the wrong driver's license while out one day running errands and one of Vecna's spies see it, call it in.

Percy is followed home.

Then, during the night, Percy and Vex wake up to several armed intruders who don't seem to like Percy very much.

"Percy... Friends of yours?"

"Friends isn't the word I'd use."

Then Vecna swaggers in, grinning, baseball bat in hand.

Percy feels his world crashing down around him as he and Vex are manhandled out of bed to be tied up by Vecna's men.

"Percival, long time no see, it's been a while."

"I was hoping it'd stay that way, personally."

"Ahah, oh, dear Percival, quite the funnyman as always."

Then the baseball bat just narrowly misses Percy's face, crashing into the bed behind him instead, Vex screams.

"Don't mistake this as a social call, my friend, this is but business. No, you know exactly what I'm here for."

Vecna steps near Vex.

"Leave Vex out of this! It's me you want, not her!"

"Ah, but such a pretty thing, just like her brother... Would be a shame if anything happened to either of them, no? The boy just got engaged, didn't he?"

"Leave my brother out of this, you bastard!"

Vex's demand met only by laughter, her anger outweighing her fear.

Percy, shaking, terrified for his girlfriend and her twin, for all of their friends-

"What do you want?! I'll do whatever it is, just leave my family out of it!"

"Ah, ever the smart man, Perce! You took something of mine, however, so I must take something of yours... Insurance, to make sure you cooperate, you could say..."

"We don't have much in the way of money or valuables-"

"Ah, but I'm not after things of material value, Percy. No. I want you to have some... Motivation! You know... To do as I say, when I say?"

"Please, leave Vex out of this, I'm begging you!"

Percy, scared for his love, scared of what Vax would do if she got hurt because of him-

"Ah, but she's not it either, as I already have my insurance, Percival - Though, a matching set would fetch a far prettier price should you fail to live up to expectations, my boy."

"No! Leave Vax alone!"

"He killed my men, it's only fair I take him as punishment."

Percy hadn't know what Vax had done back then to save his sorry ass, but he feels sick knowing Vax did what he did because of him.

And hearing the devastation in Vex's voice is the final nail in Percy's coffin here, knowing Vax's life is in danger now.

"Alright! Alright! Whatever it is, I'll do it! Just please, don't hurt Vax! Or anyone else!"

Vecna laughs.

"A little late for that, your good friend put up quite the fight and my men may of had a little fun beating him down."

"You bastard! I'll kill you!"

"Oh, Vex'ahlia darling, I'd like to see you try, my girl."

"You fucking asshole!"

Percy, staring in horror at Vex as she hollers and shouts at Vecna, threatening the man.

Vex, furious and shaking, thrashing around to escape.

Vecna just keeps laughing.

"Maybe I'll keep the boy as my personal punching bag, or I could sell him to the highest bidder? What do you think?"

"I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life!"

"Or perhaps I can hand him to the Briarwoods, what do you think, Percy? Maybe that would take their minds off of you murdering their sweet Anna. Sylas has been wanting a pet to play with and Delilah could use another lab rat"

And Percy goes pale.

"She didn't make it?"

"What else is it did you think I meant by you taking something from me? The girl was smart and promising, Perce, the loss is felt."

"I didn't want to kill her, I swear! But she was up to something! I needed to know what it was!"

"Are you suggesting that a long standing and much trusted family member was planning on betraying her family and her gang? Oh, Percival..."

And Vecna shakes his head, tutting and sighing.

"I thought you were smarter than that."

"I'm telling the truth!"

Percy can't look at Vex right now, can't think of what she must be feeling right now.

Everything he's worked for, ruined in minutes.

"Well, in any case, you still owe me a favour... Unless you'd rather we just get this over with and I have Sylas execute the brother instead?"

"No!!"

And Percy balks.

"No! No! Leave him alone! I'll do whatever it is you want!"

"Good, because I really do like that boy, he has fire in him."

"Just... What is it? What must I do to make this go away?"

"I have a friend, a fellow by the name of Orthax, and he's been crossed by some folks... He needs them taken care of."

"You want me to become an assassin for you?"

Percy feels sick.

Vex is gaping in horror.

"It's just 8 people, Percy, and then this is all over."

"You can promise that?"

"I can guarantee it, my friend, and I never break promises."

"Who are they?"

"In due time, in due time... Now, we're going to untie you before we go, please don't do anything... Rash. I'd hate to have to kill you or your beloved, or her brother at that."

Percy and Vex tense, but stay quiet and let themselves be untied, staying still.

"Good, excellent. I'll leave the list on your dresser along with your new gun... Orthax made it just for you, be appreciative."

"Do I have a time limit?"

"Let's say... You have two weeks, then I'll give away the brother to either my best people or to the highest bidder - Depends on how I'm feeling on the day, you understand?"

"It'll be done before then, I can assure you that."

"So they all say, Percival."

And with that, Vecna and his men start to leave, but then Vecna pauses at the doorway.

"Oh, and, Percy? Don't trying running away again - I mean, I don't mind it, run all you like... But just remember, you can't hide. I'll always find you."

"Trust me, I'm aware."

"Good... Have a good night."

And with that, the couple are left kneeling on their bedroom floor, crying and shaking.

Percy stands first, heading for the list and weapon.

Vex stands next, sitting on their bed, fuming silently.

Then Percy gags and drops the list before running out.

"Perce?"

She gets up, swallowing.

Who did Percy have to murder just so Vax wouldn't be killed or whatever? How bad was it?

Who was to be killed in change for Vax's very life?

She bends down and picks the sheet of paper up, turning it over and reading the names;

Frederickstein de Rolo

Johanna de Klossowski

Julius de Rolo

Vesper de Rolo

Oliver de Rolo

Whitney de Rolo

Ludwig de Rolo

Cassandra de Rolo

#critical role #modern vox machina #critical role au #ex-gang au #dark au #percy de rolo #vecna #the briarwoods #anna ripley #the de rolo family #orthax #keyleth #vax'ildan #vaxleth #vex'ahlia #perc'ahlia #grog strongjaw #taryon darrington #pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt #pikelan #long post #story ideas #short story #drabble #critical role fanfic #bonnie talks

[goodlucksnez]

a sky full of stars

Hello everyone so I wrote a er//aserm//ic fiction and it’s 5513 words I know right what the fuck I just kept writing and I didn’t want the story to end but it came to a lovely end

TW WARNING it deals with sui//cide depression,anxiety,panic attacks as well as medical surgery

TO NOTE In the story endeavor is not a hero and is a local tea maker and his wife is the surgeon which I just think it’s cute it comes together in the story it will make sense don’t worry

This is using my original AU with the Quirk flu

And lastly I hope you enjoy it I had a lot of fun riding and it has definitely improved since my last fic enjoy

you can read it on A03 or down below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33360760

How Shouta got here was anyone's guess. Sitting on the edge of the roof of UA looking at the shifting colors as night began to fall around him. As the shades of reds mixed with the blues and yellows, how they washed over the buildings and trees with a gentle golden glow, Shouta closed his eyes and smiled. The tear-stained face of the Pro was hidden from view under foundation and tired eyes. With the still night air, he heard the roof entrance unlock and movement behind him.

“Hello, old friend,” Shouta said not even turning to look at him.

“What the hell are you thinking, step away from the edge now.” Mic's voice boomed over the concrete and echoed in the tranquil night air. “Please, people need you…. I need you.”

Shouta took a deep breath and stood to face his old friend. Mic’s face was panicked and he could see the crumpled note in his hand. Shouta was glad to see his friend one last time. He shook with adrenaline as he spoke in a quiet voice barely louder than a whisper. Years down the road Shouta in the confession of therapy would say he said it this way because whispers make people listen while shouting just falls upon deaf ears.

“All my life, I have been in love with the sky. Even when everything was falling apart around me, the sky was always there for me. I’m glad to see it hasn’t changed. Goodbye old friend.” And he stepped off the roof Mic’s voice echoed in the night sky as Shouta plummeted down and down until darkness.

---

That was five years ago. Shouta had been getting better about talking about his depression and the struggles but the one thing he could not do was hurt Mic again. Hizashi also died that day, his cheery disposition of the world changed, and he hasn’t been the same since. He had improved but Shouta still had guilt deep down but would never admit it. Hizashi's confidence was always so fragile, like a child’s, it took him years to return to radio and music. He once in a foggy drunken state told Shouta that music died the day he fell and all the sounds of the world that created such unique and beautiful different melodies, fused into one agonizing wave of sound that made Hizashi hate music and his Quirk. He had gotten better they both had recovered from that day but if they were both being honest, they were still those scared little Pros inside.

When winter came the vows of in sickness and in health were tested. Hizashi got sick first and Shouta played the role of nursemaid and helped him get better therefore it was no wonder Shouta got sick. When he was a child Shouta would hide under his bed to avoid being seen as sick, he had enough of name-calling at school he did not need it at home too. This continued into his adult life even after the accident 5 years ago.

The next time he had woken up he almost suffered acute heart failure from the number of stress hormones that were immediately pumped through his system as long-term best friend and husband Hizashi better known as Present Mic had busted through the bedroom door with a shout of “Shouta” with his remarkably deafening voice. “Wow were you sleeping?”

As if it would be a shock that he was. He has been up most of the night coughing and generally feeling ill. Shouta was having trouble getting out of bed today as a dull pain racked through his body pulsing through every limb. He merely grunted in response and the strawberry blonde-haired man sat down and rubbed his back.

“Shouta,” he asked his voice worried with concern and suddenly Shouta was back on that roof. He shut his eyes and winced at that memory and shook his head. The movement of his head caused the room to spin and he reached out to grab onto something stable the only thing near him being his husband.

The pressure in his cranium had built itself up to the point where he knew he had to get away to get checked out. Somehow, he had to take a trip to get medicine, the question was how would he succeed with such a mission when Hizashi worried about his every movement.

Mic continued to rub his husband's back. After receiving no answer, his usual jovial expression continued morphing into one of pure concern. “Hey, Shouta are you okay?”

The tired pro sighed but when he went to open his mouth the tickle which had been prominent in his sinuses flared to life and he quickly turned his head to the side gripping the side of the bed as the sneezes ripped through his body.

“Heh-R'SSHH! Hh-Hih-AET’SCHHH! ESCCH!”

Hizashi jumped in surprise. “Woah, many blesses,” he said. “I’m going to pick you up some meds, okay?”

Shouta grabbed his arm and said, “no you barely over being sick, I can get some.”

As he went to put on his shoes, he sniffed back the congestion that was threatening to flow. Hizashi watched him gathering his wallet and keys before hugging him tightly and whispered in his ear.

“I know how you get with these things; I call you in a few hours and you better pick up or you’re in trouble. I love you Sky.”

Shouta hugged him back and said, “I love you to songbird.” And he left the house with the sound of thunder in the sky boomed over him.

---

His feet hurt.

It was a stupid thing to focus on. Stupid because Shouta was still heavily limping his way through darkened alleyways and shuffling through crumpled up newspapers and puddles of...something. His breath came out in ragged gasps, the medicine still clutched close to the chest. Shouta had no idea where he was going. He just kept moving- one hand drifting along chipped brick walls and graffiti-stained cement, something to keep him steady. Focused. Home was the mission but it wasn’t the goal. The goal was-

Freedom from the pain.

His knees buckled and Shouta couldn’t stop himself from tumbling forward. He smacked into a dumpster; the weak thump of a body against rusted metal ringing in his ears. The stench of rotten food clawed its way into his nose; the pain now liquid fire in his veins. Get up Shouta told himself even as his eyes started to flutter close. You have to get up. His fingers twitched; they landed in a puddle of something gross. “Please,” Shouta whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please~” Thunder rolled off in the distance- a heavy, almost shuffling sound. Maybe- maybe he could get clean in the rain? Maybe-----

“Ah, your awake!”

Fuck! Shouta started, brain a sluggish mess. He- the last thing he remembered with solid clarity was collapsing against a dumpster. Rain pattered against the rooftop- a strange melody that did nothing to put the Pro at ease as he stared at the old man before him. He was heavyset, a long red beard neatly trimmed and a topknot giving him off an old school look. Shouta glanced around the room, just a little more awake now. He still felt like shit, wet from the clothes he had when-

“My shoes,” Shouta rasped, gaze falling to his feet. They were bare, his socks neatly placed on the floor with his shoes beside this...futon. A sad, threadbare thing on the floor. It took all he had not to run his hands over himself-no. No injuries. The only thing Shouta wasn’t wearing was his shoes. Shouta inhaled congestion thick and he wiped his nose on the back of his hand. An oven mitt was sitting on the floor between them, a teapot gently clutched in the old man’s hands. “You put band-aids on my heels?”

“I did,” came the quiet hum. “You’ve traveled quite a way. Those blisters are impressive.”

Shouta’s gaze flicked to the two clay cups- one by his feet, the other next to the old man’s knees. Steam started to curl out of the teapot; a fire Quirk perhaps? “...You’ve got a fire Quirk.”

The old man smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’re very observant. Yes, I do. Would you like some tea? I have some delicious Herbal Spring at the moment it might help with that cold you got.”

Shouta eyed the teapot in question- the steam was barely more than a little trickle of a cloud. Could he have poisoned it while I was out? He shrugged, looking away.

“Ah good!” The old man leaned forward to pour tea- Shouta first, then himself. “Herbal Spring is a very fragile tea, you know. Raise the temperature too much and you’ll ruin it. Keep the water too cold, and it loses its flavor.”

Shouta didn’t reach for his cup. He heard the soft clink of China being set down on the oven mitt. He- he saw the near-empty room he was in. “Where am I?”

“My tea shop! Aaah well,” the old man smiled again as he reached for his cup. “Soon to be my tea shop. This is a storeroom of sorts.”

Shouta watched the old man drink first. A happy hum, a deep sip that made the Pro finally reach for his cup. He brought it to his lips, taking a tentative sniff. Even with his blocked nose, it smelled sweet. Shouta took the tiniest of sips; the warm liquid sliding down his parched throat with ease. It had a soft note to it; sweet and almost fruity, enough to make Shouta …breathe. “Who are you?”

“Just a simple tea maker.” Another calm sip, the old man closing his eyes for a moment. “Who are you?”

It...it lacked the same venom that Shouta’s question had. The same cautiousness, an almost feral edge to it. The old man’s question was simple. Calm and steady; Shouta bit the inside of his cheek before he took another tentative sip. “No one.”

“It is an honor to meet you, No One.” The teapot was held out like a porcelain olive branch. “More tea?”

Was this...a joke? Shouta bit the inside of his cheek before he held out his cup. There was still plenty of tea left in the small cup and it took all the Pro had not to wince at how hands were still shaking. Hot liquid sloshing about, threatening to go right over the dull rim. Yet...if the old man was going to say anything, he didn’t. He merely poured Shouta more tea, careful to keep the liquid from the rim.

Shouta brought it up to his lips, taking a bigger sip. “You’re,” this time he winced. His throat was still a raspy mess. “You’re not going to ask me why I was outside?”

“Mmm, you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Shouta watched the teapot be set gently on the oven mitt, the old teamaker once more quietly enjoying his cup. The two sipped their drinks in relative silence- only broken by the steady drumming of the rain overheard and Shouta sniffling. An odd sort of silence, almost peaceful; Shouta wasn’t bombarded with questions. The old tea maker was content to drink his tea; he’d already downed three cups by the time Shouta had managed to finish one. He sneezed 3 harsh sneezes and drank more tea hoping to soothe the throat. The teapot seemed to rise without being asked; a second cup poured, a second cup that Shouta found himself willingly drinking. “Aizawa,” he whispered, staring down at the amber liquid. The Pro’s voice was painfully loud in the quiet. “My name is Aizawa Shouta.”

The old man gently smiled; callused hands curled around his cup. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Aizawa Shouta.”

“What-” Shouta shifted on his futon; the tremors had finally left his hands. “Who are you?”

“Just an old man with wisdom and regrets,” came the happy reply. “You can call me Enji if you wish.”

Enji? It was a familiar way to address someone he’d just met. Right. “...I’m not calling you Enji.”

“Fair enough,” the old man chuckled and there was something warm in his voice that begged the Pro to relax. Maybe he has another Quirk? Can someone have two Quirks?

Shouta glanced down at his cup, his thumbs brushing the rim. “Why are you doing this?”

“Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights~”

That...was not what Shouta was expecting. He frowned; was it too late to make a run for it? He was pretty sure he had strength in his legs now, even if he still felt awful. “That’s some bullshit,” the dark hair huffed, settling on something solid. Something he could trust. He attempted to rise to his feet and he wobbled for a moment. Pain that rolled through Shouta, begging for him to plop his ass back down. “You’re crazy, old man.”

The old man didn’t move from his spot on the floor. He merely hummed, a red eyebrow rising at the uptick of rain against the roof. “You will need a proper raincoat then. You’ll be soaked if you leave now.”

“...You’re not going to stop me?”

“I cannot stop you from your long journey, Shouta. Just as we cannot stop the fire from burning the log or ice freezing a pond.” Shouta watched the old man set his cup down; empty. “But please,” he groaned as he lumbered to his feet and Shouta was pretty sure he heard joints pop. “Let me get you an umbrella at least.”

His chest hurt. Shouta’s throat was stupidly tight. Painfully tight as he stood there, watching Enji dig around in the storeroom for an umbrella. “...You,” Shouta tried to clear his throat. To stop himself from crying like the idiot he was. “You don’t have-”

He shouldn’t have wasted his breath.

The umbrella was pressed into his hands with care. It was an old thing that had seen better days- a raggedy blue thing with a few frayed strands and a scuffed handle. It was old and worn and the most precious thing Shouta had ever held in his life. “Thank you,” the Pro whispered, clutching it close to his chest.

“Of course,” Enji hummed, bowing in return. “Please stay dry.”

---

Shouta descended the step of the tea shop, his body aching with every step. The medicine still clutched to his chest. The words still echoed in his mind. “You tell me when you’re ready.” He found himself walking the feeling of cool water running down his wet body was quite unpleasant. The wind blustered and the rain pattered on the antique umbrella and the way home seemed twice as long as usual. His mind raced, how could a stranger see so clearly into his mind was it that transparent to everyone that he was broken. As his feet hit the sidewalk a single thought crossed his mind. Hizashi. His songbird. His love. He was probably worried sick. As he pulled out his phone, he saw the screen was broken and as the light lit up his face, he could see 54 unread messages. Fuck. He ran, he didn’t even notice the tightening of his chest and the pain in his limbs, as he rounded the corner almost slipping on the wet pavement. He saw the lightly tan building of his home; the outside light was still on. As he unbolted the door and took a step inside, his heartbeat deafening in his ears, a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and pulled him inside.

As Shouta panted, Hizashi's grip gets getting tighter and tighter. No words were said but the silence spoke volumes. Shouta felt tears spring to his eyes and choked back a sob as Hizashi guided him to the living room sofa and sat him down. Wordlessly Hizashi began to take Shouta's shoes off, gently searching his dark eyes for some kind of answer of where he was. Shouta could not meet his gaze, and just shook from the wet clothes and clutched the sofa tighter. Hizashi nodded and went off down the hall. He returned a moment later with fluffy towels and the first words were spoken.

“Out of those clothes.” Shouta blushed but did as he was told and as each soaked article of clothing was removed from his body it was replaced with a warm fluffy towel. However, it didn’t stop his shivering and Hizashi started rubbing the frozen skin of his lover. After a few minutes, Hizashi suddenly stopped and stood up, turning his back from Shouta.

Suddenly the blond jolted forward. “heh… ehh…. heh'ISSShooo!" and went into the kitchen to grab a box of tissues.

As he sheepishly returned and met the gaze of his husband, he muttered an apology. “Sorry.”

Shouta was at a loss for words. Why was he sorry? It was not his fault Shouta got sick, not his fault he was broken. He had done everything right, Shouta was wrong. He blinked in rapid succession before finding his voice. The voice of Enji filled his head ‘When you’re ready. He spoke with a voice broken and small.

“The day that the rain smelled like ice cream, my cat went to heaven in front of my eyes. The day that the copper pipes in the old building smelled like burnt food, my best friend... went to heaven in front of my eyes. I couldn't save them. It's sad. Neither one had the chance to become an adult. They should have become adults. They should have had children of their own and loved those children. And I want to make that possible for other people. So don’t be sorry. You saved me. I love you.”

He had never expressed that amount of raw emotion in his whole life, not even to his therapist but it felt right. The nerves he felt flowed out of him as his tears decorated his face. As he sat covered in the towel he sobbed, all the emotions he had been holding released like the steam from that teapot that brought him warmth not a few hours before.

Hizashi cradled him, as his body racked with sobs, gently like how a mother would cradle a baby, pausing to kiss him and repeat gentle nothings. As Shouta began to wind down, all the strength he had been pretending he had disappeared and he slumped against Mic and closed his eyes and soon unconsciousness took him.

--

Shouta slept for hours it seemed like. Each dream he had was confusing and odd as if he had two brains competing for the dream. His tired muscles ached and the dull pain between his eyes had increased to a dull migraine. Truth be told he felt awful. But soon his body had had enough and he felt the being of a sneeze. He tried to hold back for a while longer but found it futile. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as the tickle reached its climax.

“Eschht, Eschht eh ugh sniff heh hhh AET’SCHHH!”

The last sneeze ripped through him with such force all the blankets and towel that had kept him warm fell off of him and he was left sniffling chest exposed to the room and his husband who look just as surprised as himself.

“Goodness bless you Sho, you have caught my cold.”

The tired man just groaned and said with a voice still raspy and strained “Not a cold, it's probably the flu, I should have told you sooner, I just- ugh sniff again heh hhh Hit'choo!! Hih-tschh!! Hihh…hih-tsCHEW!”

With the last sneeze, he felt his Quirk go haywire and soon his hair was floating above him and his eyes had turned a red hue. Luckily for him, no one was in the radius but he still felt awful. A hero could only depend on two things in this world, their Quirk and the one they loved. If Shouta could take one of those away without realizing it, it could mean trouble.

Mic had knelt in front of the laying down Pro and gently cupped a tissue around his husband's nose. “Bless your hon, come on blow for me.”

Shouta did a wet gurgling blow and groaned as the Quirk deactivated his dry eyes yearning for water. Mic dabbed at Shouta slowly being red nose and stood. He made his way over to the linen closet and grabbed the warmest winter sweater and returned to his sick husband.

“Arms up you know the drill.” As Mic helped the Pro get dressed, he called out to Siri.

“Hey, Siri, text Doctor Green we are coming in an hour.” As Shouta's head came through the sweater hole he simply frowned. This Doctor had treated him after the accident but was a close friend of theirs. As Siri confirmed the appointment Mic sensed Shouta's discomfort and replied to him. “I know sweetie you don’t like the doctor but you know he can help better than over-the-counter drugs. He continued and I will be there the whole time.”

Shouta shook his head. “Together,” he said in a small voice

Mic helped the sickly Pro stand and guided him to the mirror next to the door and kissed him on his flushed skin. “Forever Together.”

--

The train ride for the first leg of the journey was uneventful. The hum of the fluorescent lights and the moving subway train was distracting enough to distract other passengers from Shouta's constant sniffling. Mic was stood holding on to the overhead bar while Shouta was sitting with his head in his hands. Mic was constantly asking if Shouta needed anything even though he would not be able to provide much relief besides encouraging words. As the overhead speakers announced their stop Mic helped Shouta stand as the train came to a hard stop be cursed in English as Shouta stumbled forward again him.

The misty afternoon after the rainstorm was heavy in the air but still, Shouta shivered a clear sign of a fever and the couple picked up the pace to the doctors. As they rounded a corner a few blocks away they were met with the flashing blue and red of a line of police cars. As heroes, they knew a situation was happening. Mic half dragging Shouta went to them who seemed to be in charge of the crowd of citizens and asked what was happening. The short man with light brown hair replied with the normal answer for any citizen. “Nothing to worry about Sir heroes will handle it.” Mic frowned and dug in his pocket and grabbed his Hero license and flashed it at the man. Taken aback the man quickly responded. “Oh, um sorry, a Jewelry store has been taken hostage, he paused before continuing “my chief might need an extra few hand…he paused and looked at the struggling man Mic was holding up “is he also able to help.” Mic didn’t have time for this and he ducked below the police tape and began walking to the line of cop cars. Shouta followed but sluggishly. As he neared the chief of the police, he quickly scanned the street. He could see the jewelry store in question had a broken window and was heavily surrounded by local heroes as well as other members of the police task force. As Shouta caught up his eyes were half-closed and looked like he was going to pass out any second. Before Mic could attend to Shouta a round of gunshots filled the air and out of instinct he grabbed both of them and they hit the pavement hard. After a few moments, he helped Shouta lean against a cop car tire and checked over his body. ‘No wounds’ Mic thought ‘I don’t have time for this we need to get through this street.’

Mic looked at the task force and saw the numbers had decreased whoever was in the store had an amble firearm. As a local hero approached the car Mic asked what the status was and what they know. The local hero stating that the man inside the store had a bullet-type quirk and could shoot many rounds of ammo and was demanding everyone to leave and no one would get hurt.

Mic thought ‘a bullet type quirk, like Pro hero Edgeshot’ Mic continued to question. Did they have any other people with them? The local hero shook his head no they are alone. Mic could work with this. He waved over the chief, a man he had worked with a few other times.

If they could stop the man quirk do, they have enough to help the hostages and defeat the villain. The chief simply nodded his head and Mic set to work.

He gently shook the arm of Shouta who barely raised his head. “Hey love I know you are exhausted but we need you Quirk right now can you aim your Quirk over to the storefront.

Shouta tried Mic had to give him credit for that, but as soon his hair started to rise it quickly fell. Shouta mumbled a response thick with congestion. “I. Can’t…tired”

Mic rubbed his arms in understanding and replied “What about if we use your illness as an advantage, you can’t control when it happens right, what if we use that.”

Shouta turned to look at Mic. “What are you suggesting?”

Before he could reply another round of gunshot shot at them and he quickly covered Shouta's body with his. He immediately felt the sharp pain as a bullet entered him under his ribs, and he could feel the blood start to spill. With an adrenaline-filled body, he quickly pulled Shouta into a somewhat kneeling position and aimed his head toward the storefront. “I’m sorry about this love this isn’t going to be big on dignity.”

He grabbed the end of his ponytail and brought the split ends to the underside of Shouta's nose. The already irritated organ began to twitch as the strands of hair slowly twisted around.  

Shouta tried to ignore the incessant prodding of the frizzy hair against his sensitive nose, but with each swipe, the tiny hairs that shook loose were soon sucked up into his twitching and quivering nostrils.  He shuddered and froze in place a tear slowly trailed down from his eye to his cheek as his nose began scrunching and wriggling from the irritation.

“Come on Shouta you can do it,” Mic said. Shouta’s chest heaved and he couldn't help but give in to the itchy and tickly urge to expel those irritants from his nostrils.

“H...hhih...” The beginnings of a sneeze showed as his eyes began to droop. His chest expanded further “Haaahhh! Aaahhhh!”  His eyes fully closed, head tilting back and signaling the oncoming release.  Mic aimed his face toward the storefront and sent a silent prayer that this would work.

“Hit'choo!! Hih-tschh!! Hihh…hih-tsCHEW!”

As Shouta sneezed his hair lifted with ease and soon the storefront was temperately Quick free. Mic activated his Quirk and told the task force to go. Shouta was still panting from sneezing but his eyes were open however Mic didn’t know how long he could keep them open. As the task force ran in the subject found his Quirk would not activate and soon found himself being put in handcuffs and a medical device being placed that would stop his Quirk without the help of Erasure.

As Mic received the thumbs up, he spoke to his shaking husband who was struggling to keep his eyes open. “Bless your hon you did it, you can relax now.” As Shouta did all the energy slipped from him and he lost consciousness and slumped over on the wet pavement. Mic grabbed the fragile man and began to walk to the nearest ambulance, as he stepped into the back of the ambulance the medic and himself helped Shouta into the gurney, and soon the siren wailed and they were finally off to their destination.

--

As they entered the hospital fast lane and the medic was ready to receive both of the ProS, Mic was insistent to be placed near Shouta as he wasn’t comfortable around hospitals. The medic nodded and escorted them to their joined room. Shouta was seen to first. They took blood and gave him fluids; they also provide pain medicine and sadly they had to wait until he woke up.

Mic surgery was quickly scheduled. He met with the surgeon while sitting next to Shouta and rubbing his arm. The female was fairly tall and had blue tint to her eyes and white hair. She explained the surgery before Mic consented.

“Upon examination, we identified 1 cm diameter entry wound at the left lower abdominal wall, Sir. The images we took showed the bullet in the peritoneal cavity but no injured intraperitoneal and retroperitoneal viscera. We decided to remove the bullet laparoscopically.” Mic nodded. She noticed the band around his finger and smiled. “How long have you two been together?”

Mic smiled and replied “4-year next month, but I have known since we were 14 that this is what we both needed.” He paused before swallowing hard “We've been through a lot but I can’t imagine life without him. He is my whole life, my Sky. He bent down and kissed the sleeping man's hand.  The surgeon smiled and spoke “I see, well that must be hard with both of you rushing into battle all the time,” she looked down at her clipboard before continue “I have treated a lot of patients in my day but never have I seen a love quite like your, it’s very special.”  A monitor beeped and the surgeon motioned him to follow. “Well, shall we take care of the bullet Mr. Hizashi. Mic kissed Shouta’s hand before leaving the room.

--

Shouta was hot. It was too bright wherever he was. His mind was foggy. He groaned as he sat up, he immediately recognized the smell of a hospital. What happened. The last thing he remembers is the sound of gunshots and Hizashi…Shit Hizashi he jerked into a sit-up position and looked around. The nurse that had been changing his fluid jumped back. “Calm down you’re okay! Just relax.”

“Where is he…what happened?” He asked rage filling his croaky voice. The nurse replied, “Sir he is in surgery he will be out soon don’t worry he is okay.” She laid him back against the pillows before continuing “We need to make sure you’re okay Sir make sure you don’t have a concussion. He pulled out a light and shown it in his eye without much warning. The tickle flared to life and he turned his head.

“Issh’iIEWW!....hhh..heh… “TSCHTIEW” Thankfully his Quirk did not activate he wiped his nose on the back of his arm as the nurse apologized.

“Sorry Sir, but the good news is you don’t have a concussion so you will be out of here as soon as we can get some medicine and your husband is awake.”

Shouta relaxed slightly and closed his eyes and tried to keep the panic from getting too much to handle. Within the next 2 hours, Shouta tried to not be a bother to any of the staff but his flu had proven a little too much for him to handle.

As a nurse with a gravity-type quirk was walking down the hall with floating plates of dinner, he groaned as another tickle forced him to sneeze and he felt his quirk activate and he heard the crash as the dinner plates fell and crashed on the floor. Many of the nurses were understanding but he still felt awful. When his husband was wheeled into his room Shouta's eyes began to water and he had to fight back tears. The surgeon explained the surgery was a success and he would be discharged later today. She told Aizawa in a voice soft and comforting. “He loves you so much, you are a very lucky man.” She sat on the edge of his bed and looked into his eyes. “I know you feel broken but he is trying so hard to make sure you are taken care of. The world is a cruel place and I know you have suffered more than most. But know this, he loves you and has sworn to protect you. You might be a Hero to the public but he is your Hero, let him save you. She wiped a tear from her eye and turned to leave. Before leaving the room, she said “Oh and you have a gift make sure to grab it before leaving.” And placed a small box on the counter next to the door before leaving him.

When Hizashi woke and passed all the discharge tests and Shouta had his medicine they left the hospital holding each other’s hand and holding a box of tea that they would use for the rest of their life.

The end.

#Vic writes #vicwrites #bnha fic #fanfic #my fanfiction #My fic #sneezefanfic #sneezefic #sneeze fic #mysneezefic #bnhafanfic

[tocrackerboxpalace]

January, 1972

Summary: In Paul's first interview since the breakup of the Beatles, things go slightly awry when a nosy reporter gets more out of him than she bargained for.

Part 1/3 (2, 3)

Paul flashed a blinding grin at the camera, hoping none of the looming anxiety beneath the surface would read. He quickly seated himself in the plushy chair, running his fingers up and down the smooth red velvet of the arms a few times to soothe his nerves. A tad self-consciously, he scratched his jaw, fingers twitching with unfamiliarity against the now smooth skin. This was his first interview in nearly two years.

He had been in a bad way since the breakup. It did no good to mull over it now, but it was hard to stop the same intrusive thoughts from popping into frame—the fuck-all, nothing-matters-anyway attitudes; the gnawing sensation of his own incompetency at the bitterness of feeling utterly lost; the desire to waste his fucking life away drunk out of his mind so he didn’t have to wake up in the morning and remember. What now?

Paul sighed inadvertently, ignoring the curious way the interviewer’s eyes danced over his form. What now? Now, this interview. One day at a time. A nice, simple discussion about the past year—about the success of RAM topping the charts in the U.K. and the slow but steady promise of Wild Life. Family and new beginnings. Peace.

Getting better all the time, right? His stomach did a violent flip at the thought.

Paul jumped a bit as the interviewer leaned forward, brushing a tentative hand across his knee. “Paul? Are you all right?”

Paul blinked. “What?”

She lowered her voice a bit, eyes flicking in the direction of the cameraman. Paul felt dizzy as the red light blinked back at him. “Should we—should we cut?”

Shit. Already off to a poor start.

Slowly, Paul came to his senses, breathing returning to normal (though he hadn’t realized it had been erratic). His chest felt tight as he gave a curt, polite nod, forcing a smile that, to him, felt borderline grotesque.

“No, love. Everything’s fine. Just a bit distracted, is all.” He shot her a wink, hoping to assuage her. Maybe a bit of flirting would do the trick.

He sighed in relief as the reporter flushed, a pleased grin sneaking onto her otherwise hard features. “Right. Well, if you’re ready, we can begin.”

“In earnest,” he beckoned, waving an inviting hand in her direction.

—

Half an hour later, Paul’s face felt utterly plastic from faking so much interest and expression. The poor girl was trying, for Christ’s sake, but Paul had to actually hold back groans at some of the painfully bland questions. Every goddamn thing reminded him of the Beatles, anyway, even if it had nothing to do with them. He felt surrounded by ghosts: the echo of George’s laugh, a flash of fangs; the dissipating vision of the way Ringo bit his lip real hard and furrowed his brow when asked any remotely difficult question; the trace of John’s fingertips on his arms or lightly thumping the back of his head. Things hadn’t been the same for a while, now, as far as those things went; but it was almost like they’d never changed. Everything was rushing back to him as if he’d just woken up from a long nightmare. Only to find that the nightmare was more pleasant than reality, of course.

Paul swallowed hard, fighting the urge to be sick. He wasn’t ready for this.

He wished Linda was there. Paul nearly kicked himself for agreeing to do this alone—he wasn’t sure why they had requested that, anyway, if they were just going to make him repeat the conception of “Yesterday” all over again. He needed her there, needed to distract himself by caressing her and leaning on her and whispering subtle inside jokes in her ear at inappropriate times. He needed to have her, just like—just like he needed—

“On your newest record with Wings, you have a particularly interesting track I’d like to touch on,” the reporter was saying, bearing down on him with a sudden insatiable gaze that should have been frightening, if Paul had literally cared one bit.

“Hmm?” He replied, noncommittedly.

“’Dear Friend’. It’s about John, no?”

Paul tensed.

The interviewer stared back at him, daring him to speak, the lust for truth plainly evident in her eyes, and Paul swiftly understood. Everything had been mere formalities or trust-building exercises up to this point. Everything to get him here: trapped, with nowhere to go, no one to turn to. His mind worked quickly, frantically, pushing the blossoming anger aside to make room for the desperate bid to save himself. He could only think of one solution, and one he was king at.

Paul began to laugh. Not loudly, not absurdly; just casual enough to where the audience would soon be able to read the feigned perplexity in his tone. “John?” He practically scoffed, cocking an eyebrow at the woman with a look that bordered on condescending. “No, love, it’s not about John.”

“Who’s it about, then?” Came the follow-up.

Paul answered too quickly. “Linda.”

“Ah,” the interviewer affirmed, leaning back in her chair slightly. “I see. So the bit about throwing the wine—”

“Celebration!” Paul interjected, his voice much too shaky for it to ring true. “Throw back the wine. Congratulations, and all that.” He mimicked a drinking glass. “Young and newlywed.”

“Mm.”

Paul’s heart was hammering in his chest, so violently he was sure the cameras could see it. He never should have put out the song. He had knownit was too transparent, but had convinced himself it was his own paranoia. The public was desperately searching for anything to drive the wedge between him and John deeper—even if the song really wasn’t about him, they would have found a way to make it so.

So, that’s what the story was. He felt a sudden angered hopelessness, offended by the audacity of the reporter. To coax him out of practical hiding, persuade him to do this huge press event for the “good of his album”, to pull him from Linda and thrust him into the spotlight he tried so desperately to escape, all so they could catch a hope of getting Paul to contradict and expose himself? Like she was some kind of Pharisee?

He could see her eyes working coldly, calculatedly, and he felt the sudden urge to run. His mouth felt sour, tongue acidic against his teeth that were clenched far too hard to be healthy. He had to get out of here.

“You say friend,” the interviewer started, almost cautiously.

“She’s my best friend,” Paul argued.

“What about the fear? What is Linda afraid of?”

“It’s a general fear,” Paul retorted, almost pouting, feeling more than fed up with the increasingly dangerous questions.

“Is what ‘true’, then?”

“All the things he said, of course,” he snapped.

It wasn’t until she responded that he realized his mistake. “He?”

Shit! Paul’s eyes shot wide as he stumbled for an answer. “I-what?”

The reporter narrowed her eyes. “You said ‘he’. All the things he said.”

Paul’s heart was in his throat. He struggled to breathe, mimicking the feeling of having your head barely above water as the ocean closes around your neck. “I most certainly did not.”

“But you did. You said, ‘all the things “he” said’. I presume you’re referring to Lennon’s more public digs, especially in response to RAM. He's far less subtle than you, you know. ‘Too Many People,’ though, that one’s about him to anyone who has ears to hear it and a brain to really listen. So he comes back with ‘How Do You Sleep’, and though you’ve been sitting on this one for quite some time, it feels right to put it out, a spitball to his face, an olive branch in the face of his fire. It doesn’t matter that it sounds like it’s to a lover. Because, in a way, it is—"

“No!” Paul all but cried out, wanting to press his palms so far into his ears that it would crush his skull. The beginnings of desperate tears well up inside of him. “No, that’s not—I’m not—”

“What happened in India?”

Paul froze.

The reporter simply stared back at him, almost expressionless. Paul’s brain had short-circuited at the question, leaving behind nothing but a dull buzz, his thoughts as comprehensive as television static. The buzzing of the studio lights was the only sound for a long time, save the soft pants escaping Paul’s lips as his chest constricted with the effort of not hyperventilating. When he finally spoke, his voice was dripping with a malice that shocked even himself.

“What the fuck do you know?”

Even the interviewer looked momentarily taken aback. She licked her lips almost hungrily. “Is there something to know?”

“No. It’s—nothing happened, all right?”

“That’s the trouble, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” Paul was astounded, flabbergasted, so far past the point of shock he no longer had control over his ramblings. “Or—no. I don’t know. Nothing happened, it couldn’t—”

“Did you want it to?”

“He wanted—”

“What did Lennon want, Paul?” There was an edge to the reporter’s voice, a twinge of excitement at what may be perhaps the biggest story since their breakup.

Paul said nothing. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. A cloud came over him, blurring all thoughts of past and future. All implications and consequences. He was blissfully, numbly empty.

“Paul McCartney, were you in a… a physical relationship with John Lennon?”

The question went unanswered. He simply stared at the woman opposite him, cool and stony. He could tell by the slight waver in her expression that his intent was evident. It was a dare—turn the fucking interview off, or sit here in silence for the remaining half-hour. Give the viewers quite a special.

Her choice.

Eventually, the woman cleared her throat and shuffled the stack of notecards in her lap that Paul hadn’t noticed until now. He let his gaze trail over her lazily as she made to signal the camera cut. As soon as the little red light went dead, she shot Paul an aggravated glare and shuffled off the set.

He only winked, feeling much more hollow inside than before.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney #john lennon (mentioned) #linda mccartney (mentioned) #george harrison (briefly mentioned) #ringo starr (briefly mentioned) #interviews #confessions #songwriting feud of the seventies #beatles breakup #part 1 #part 1 of 3

[masterofmunson]

all i ask of you (4)

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader Broadway AU

Summary: You’re forced to work with your famous ex boyfriend on Broadway.

Word Count: 6.1k+

Warnings: language, drinking, drama, cliff hanger!

Author’s Note: woohoo! i’m back baby! so sorry for the long delay of part four of the story. please tell me what you think! reblogs, comments, and asks are encouraged and appreciated <3

Jane nearly tramples you as the two of you make it out of the basketball arena with your college diplomas in hand. You laugh and hold on to her tightly as you walk through the arena to the front doors where you know your entire family is waiting. 

“We did it! We graduated college!” Jane shouts. 

“I know! Can you believe it?” you ask her. It had been a long and hard four years for the both of you. You constantly questioned if it was worth it. People always doubted you. They didn’t believe you could have a promising career with a Music and Theater degree. It didn’t matter if you had prospects on Broadway in the near future. No one but your closest family and friends believed in you. 

You walk out the front doors and eagerly search for your family. Jane tugs on your arm, finding your families first. You hurry over to your mother and brothers, hugging them tightly in a group hug. Your oldest brother, Garrett, lifts you off the ground into a tight embrace. You laugh and cling to him before your family friend Glenne tackles you for a hug. 

It surprises you that she’s here for your graduation. You knew she’d been invited, but you hadn’t expected her or her boyfriend to come. It makes you slightly upset that they took the time to come celebrate your accomplishments with you, but your boyfriend Harry couldn’t. You understood why, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. He wanted to be as private about your relationship as possible, even though he could’ve still come to support you as one of your closest friends. No one would ever know that the two of you were dating if Jeff and Glenne were around.

“What are you doing here?!” you laugh as Jeff kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly. “I told you that you didn’t have to come!”

“Nonsense!” Glenne shouts with a growing smile. “We wouldn’t miss this for the world, and we brought a surprise with us!”

Your eyebrows pinch together as you stare at her. What surprise? Your loud mouth baby brother surely would’ve spoiled it for you. “What do you mean?” 

There’s a soft tap on your shoulder and Glenne smirks nodding her head at the person standing behind you. Jane gasps in surprise as she stands between her dad and sister. 

You spin around and your eyes meet those of your handsome, rockstar boyfriend. You gasp and he grins, taking you in his arms. You cling to him and he secretly presses a kiss behind your ear. 

“You said you couldn’t come,” you whisper in his ear as he holds you. 

“I would never miss my girl’s biggest accomplishment, even if it means I’d have to hold off from kissing her until we're in private,” he answers back sweetly, making your insides all warm and fuzzy. 

…. 

On opening night, you made the executive decision to let bygones be bygones. You wanted the show to succeed, regardless of how you felt towards Harry. Everything is water under the bridge. You’ve moved on. You’ve healed. You’re a different person now than you were four years ago. At least that’s what you’ve convinced yourself. 

So as a sign of good faith and a step towards the right direction, you went to your favorite coffee shop and bought Harry a coffee and bagel for breakfast. You had a good feeling about tonight. You always do when it comes to opening night. It doesn’t matter how nervous you are. 

Keying into the back entrance of the theater, you open the door and walk down the hall into yours and Harry’s shared dressing room. The door is already open and the lights are on which tells you that Harry’s inside. You take a deep breath before stepping into the threshold of the room. 

What you don’t expect are the amount of visitors this early in the morning. The first person you recognize is Kendall. You know you shouldn’t be surprised that she’s here. They were together before you were with Harry and are still friends. It never sat right with you while you were dating, but you never told him that. You were too busy falling in love with him. 

Then you recognize his sister and his mom. You’d only met them a handful of times, while you were still friends and when you were dating. They’re lovely women and you liked spending time with Gemma whenever she visited. There’s a few others sitting on the couch when you realize they’re a part of his band. 

It’s silent when you stand at the door. They’re all staring at you and you feel like you can’t breathe. This wasn’t how you wanted to start your day, especially today of all days. Right now isn’t a good time to give his friends and family a tour of the place, especially when curtain call is 10 hours from now. 

Harry moves to approach you from his spot next to his mother. You immediately exit the room and walk down the hall away from prying eyes and ears. Harry gently places a hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around and face him. You recoil from his touch and shove the food and drink you bought him in his hands. 

“Here,” you say. “Consider this my olive branch.”

Harry murmurs your name gently. “Listen, I had no idea this many people were coming to the show and wanted a tour of the place beforehand. I didn’t know Kendall was coming. I’d gotten the okay from Frank and it was Jeff’s idea—”

You interrupt him with a bitter laugh and shake your head at him. “Right, because nothing is ever your fault. Whatever, Harry. I don’t care. Invite whoever you want, I don’t give a shit. Stop acting like you feel the need to run things by me. I’m not your girlfriend. Just do what you want and leave me alone,” you snap at him. You walk into Aaron’s dressing room and shut the door loudly behind you. 

Harry frowns, staring at the empty hallway before walking back to the dressing room with the bagel and coffee in his hands. He avoids the shocked looks directed at him as he enters the room, especially from Gemma and his mother. He tries to pretend not to notice. 

“Jesus, Harry,” Gemma chastised him. “Why didn’t you tell us you were in a show with your ex girlfriend? Especially considering how things ended!”

Anne gently slaps her eldest in the arm. “Now’s not the time, Gem,” Anne answers for her son. “He needs to focus and we should all leave. It’s unfair to the rest of the cast to be a distraction, including Y/n. I’m sure seeing all of us just scared her.”

“That’s painfully obvious.” 

Everyone leaves the room and exits the theater, leaving Harry alone. He sighs, sitting down in his chair. He runs a hand through his hair and groans in frustration. He’s so sick and tired of messing things up with you. Harry understands why you’re so cold and hostile towards him. He knows he deserves it. 

Having his family, friends, and even Kendall in the dressing room scared you. He knows that but did it anyway. You don’t know what he told them when your relationship ended. Did he put the blame all on you? Did he make you the bad guy? The aforementioned crazy ex girlfriend never to speak of? Knowing how terrible of a boyfriend he was to you at the end of your relationship, he probably did. 

Harry reaches for the cup of coffee you bought him. He takes a gentle sip and hums in approval. Even though it’s been several years, you still know that he takes his coffee black. You always teased him about it and called him grandpa as a result. He thought it was sweet. 

He pulls the bagel out of the paper wrapping and takes a bite. You remembered his favorite bagel too, even after all these years. Even after all the things he did. There’s just some things you don’t forget, no matter how small. 

In Aaron’s dressing room, you finally reveal the true nature of your relationship with Harry to him. Jane couldn’t contain her smirk or laughter as you rant about your famous ex boyfriend. 

“Wait, what?!” Aaron shouts, shaking his head at you in disbelief. “Your ex boyfriend, the ex boyfriend that made you choose between him or Broadway is Harry? Harry Styles thought he could make you choose him over your career?”

“Yes, Aaron,” you say for the umpteenth time. “I know it’s a shock that the Harry Styles is and was an asshole considering what his brand is.”

Your co-star frowns in response. He stops pacing the room and takes a seat beside you on the couch. He takes your hand and gives it a firm squeeze. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You nod your head in response before sipping at your coffee. “It’s okay. It’s history now. I’m over it, and despite what happened, I forgave him. I know in my heart that he’s a different person now than he was when we were together but he just made me realize that I shouldn’t be with someone who isn’t willing to put in the work or compromise to be happy. Maybe that’s why I’ve been single ever since,” you laugh, leaning into him. 

There’s a soft knock at the door, causing you to sit up. Aaron shouts that the door is open and Harry pokes his head in. He laughs nervously and scratches the back of his neck. Both Aaron and Jane glare at him. 

“What do you want, Harry?” Jane snaps at him, standing up from her spot on the couch. She puts herself between you and the door, blocking you from his view. 

“I just need to talk to Y/n. I have something for her,” Harry answers, peering over Jane to look at you. 

You sigh and stand up from your spot on the couch. You pull Jane away from the door and walk out of Aaron’s room without a word spoken to Harry. You return to your shared dressing room without anyone else inside. Harry trails behind, shutting the door. Taking a seat at your makeup table, you watch Harry carefully pick up a bouquet of beautiful lilies in a glass vase. He sets them on your table and you smell the flowers immediately. 

“I know I keep messing things up between us. I say something stupid and I do things without thinking. I’ve been incredibly selfish and despite the fact you want nothing to do with me, you’re still helping me because you want the show to be a success regardless. I’m really sorry and I also wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done,” Harry apologizes with a gentle, sincere smile. 

You swallow hard. You hadn’t expected him to apologize. Knowing he planned to apologize with a bouquet of flowers that symbolize forgiveness twists something inside of you. You don’t know what it is exactly, but it feels good. It’s a step in the right direction. 

You laugh softly. Despite not seeing each other since the break up, you and Harry still seem to be in tune with one another. Of course he would get you flowers, a personal favorite of yours, on the day you bring him breakfast. Some things are harder to break than others. 

“What?” 

“It’s just funny to me that even after all these years, we’re still in sync. You brought flowers for me on the same day I brought coffee for you. I guess some habits are harder to break than others,” you answer softly. 

Harry laughs too and the room falls silent. “Thank you, though, for the apology. I understand that you’re just excited. I was too. All I wanted to do was introduce my family to the cast and show the sets when they flew out to watch me in Cats for the first time,” you tell him, rubbing your hands on the top of your thighs. You bite the inside of your cheek and Harry winces the moment the words leave your mouth. You shouldn’t have brought it up. 

When you started your career on Broadway in Cats, it had only been two and a half months since the messy breakup with Harry. You had blocked his number, but you were too afraid to do anything else normal couples would when they broke up. You didn’t want his fans to figure out or piece together scenarios if you unfollowed him on social media or deleted the photos you had together off your profiles. As far as they knew, you were only mutual friends because of Glenne, Harry’s manager’s girlfriend. Jane took you out drinking for a week straight after the break up to try and cheer you up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean to mention it like that, only that I was just excited as you are now.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says quietly. 

You cough and quickly change the subject. “You should definitely invite your family and friends to the after show after party. I’m not sure if anyone’s told you yet but we always have a massive party after the premier of a show. It’s always at The Plaza and it’s all for the publicity for the hotel and luxury sponsorships so the cast spends the night free of charge. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Aaron told me about it yesterday,” Harry confirms, nodding his head. “I already gave them invites.”

“Sweet.”

There’s a sharp knock on the door before it’s pushed open. One of the photographers, Trevor, steps inside. You smile warmly at him and hug him quickly. 

“Hey, sorry to interrupt. Frank wants cast photos before everyone starts to get busy with vocal warm ups, hair, make up, and costume changes,” Trevor tells the two of you. He shakes Harry’s hand and introduces himself. 

You nod your head and Trevor holds his camera up to his face. You pose, grinning at him as he takes a photo of you. He takes a quick glance at it. 

“Absolutely stunning,” he says before leaving the room. 

You leave the room first and Harry follows close behind. You make a quick stop to Aaron’s dressing room and link your arm with Jane’s as you walk to the stage. Walking through the curtain, you and Jane move to the front of the stage and take a seat on the floor. 

The rest of the cast walks on stage as a group of photographers move to the front. Everyone squeezes together for a variety of photos. Harry and Aaron join you and Jane on the floor in the front. Frank points to the small space left between you and Harry. 

“Get closer,” Frank directs the two of you. Harry glances over at you before inching closer. He carefully places his arm around your torso. It makes your heart stop. 

The photographers take a number of photos before Frank dismisses the cast except for you, Harry, and Aaron. Harry’s careful to touch you as they take photos of the two of you. Trevor looks out from his camera lens. 

“Aaron and Harry, kiss Y/n on the cheek!” he says. 

“I dunno—”

“It’s fine, Harry,” you interrupt with a gentle smile. 

Harry’s mouth touches your skin and you hold your breath as Trevor captures the photo with Aaron and Harry pressing their mouths to your face. They pull away and you scratch the back of your neck bashfully before returning to your room. 

Kelly, your assigned hair and makeup artist, enters your dressing room a few minutes later. You hug her tightly and the gorgeous redhead laughs. She sets her kit on the table. Mandi, the costume coordinator enters the room and makes a beeline towards the hanger rack with the dresses. 

Kelly helps you secure your hair in a wig cap before gently placing the wig of Christine’s gorgeous, long, curls on your head. She moves it in place and teases up the loose strands. She pins it to the cap and it looks as if the hair is your own. It’s your favorite part of becoming Christine. 

Harry arrives a few minutes after Kelly starts working on your stage makeup. Zoe and Bridget work with him on hair, make up, and his costume at his table. Music plays softly in the background as the two of you get ready side by side. You sing along softly and ignore Harry’s gentle gaze. 

He’s always been terrible at trying to hide the way he looks at you, even now. 

Mandi helps you change into the first costume Christine wears for the first few scenes. Despite the fact that you’ve grown so used to the costumes, changing into them, especially with Harry close by makes you feel weird. 

You continue your vocal warm ups and drink water as Kelly works on your makeup. You’re careful to relax your eyes and face as she works on your foundation and eyeshadow. 

The dressing room door is pushed open and Trevor reappears with your manager trailing behind. He takes behind the scenes photos of you and Harry getting ready for curtain call. 

“I have your dress for the after party,” Gretchen, your manager tells you, side eyeing Harry from her spot on the couch. “I’ll bring it inside when the show’s over.”

“Sweet, thanks, Gretchen,” you tell her. 

“There’ll also be journalists and reporters at the after party red carpet, so you’re more than welcome to speak to them. Talk about the show, how you felt it went, whatever.”

You hum in response as Kelly lightly applies lip gloss to your mouth. You keep your eyes closed when you hear Jeff come inside and greet Harry. They talk quietly and Jeff tells him what kind of questions to expect at the red carpet. You’re guessing it has to do with you, knowing that the gossip columnists will more than likely ask about what it’s like working with Harry since they only knew that you’ve met in the past. They don’t have a clue that you and Harry used to date. They care more about linking Harry to any woman he knows rather than his music or other accomplishments. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Kelly compliments you. 

You grin and wink at her. “It’s ‘cos I have you to make me look all pretty,” you say. It makes her laugh. 

“When you and Harry are done getting ready, I wanted to take photos of the two of you in costume if that’s okay,” Trevor says, snapping photos of you and Harry at your respective makeup tables. 

You nod your head and Harry does the same. You hop off the makeup chair and take a sip of water before leaving the dressing room to the stage. Trevor follows behind before you pose for photos in character until Harry’s done getting into costume. You start some vocal warm ups in the meantime as you wait for him to join you on the stage. Jane appears in costume and starts her vocal warm up with you. Trevor takes photos of the two of you together as you sing and dance with your best friend. 

Harry appears on stage with Jeff and Gretchen behind him. You glance over at him and you swallow hard. You try not to think of how handsome he looks in costume. His hair is parted down the middle and the costume fits him perfectly. Your eyes meet his briefly as he approaches you. He leans forward and presses an unexpected kiss to your temple. You cough uncomfortably when you hear Trevor’s camera click, capturing the image. 

“How cute,” he says, smiling at the two of you. You fake a smile and bite the inside of your cheek. “Harry, can you hold Y/n like you’re dancing with her and dip her close to the floor? I want to catch the intimate relationship Christine and Raoul have with each other.”

He nods and you turn to face each other. You carefully wrap your arms around his neck and his hands settle on your waist. You slowly dance with each other and your heart starts to race. Harry’s hands slide to your upper back as he dips you down towards the floor. You cling to him as you feel yourself start to fall. He laughs softly as your noses touch and a loose curl of his touches your face. It makes your heart stop. You hear the camera click before Harry gently pulls you up. You take a step away from him to put space between the two of you. 

“Fantastic, thanks,” Trevor says, quickly looking at the photos he captured before running off the stage, leaving you, Jane, and Harry on stage. 

“I’m going to go decompress before curtain call,” you say to no one in particular before hurrying off to one of the practice rooms. You shut the door behind you and let out a loud breath of air you were holding in. 

You settle on the piano bench and rest your fingers gently on the keys. You press the keys softly as the music fills the room. You sing quietly and don’t hear the door open until you see Jeff out of the corner of your eye approaching you at the piano. You turn to face him. 

“Hey, I just wanted to wish you good luck before curtain call. Harry said you’d be in here,” he says. 

Your hands drop from the piano and into your lap. You move to the end of the bench to make room for him. He sits down next to you. 

“Thanks. Now why are you really here?” you ask with a soft laugh. 

Jeff laughs too and shakes his head. “Nothing gets past you, huh?” 

“You’re Harry’s manager, Jeff. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you’d come and talk to me without Harry if there’s something that concerns you about your client and their image.” 

“I just want to warn you about possible gossip columnists. They’ll try to link you to Harry regardless of what either of you say. They’ll ask incredibly intrusive questions and—”

“Jeff, I know,” you interrupt him. “Only a select few know that Harry and I dated and they know better than to say anything to anyone. I know how to handle it. I’m not a crazy ex girlfriend.”

“I know.”

You stand up from the piano bench and rub out the wrinkles of your dress. “Then don’t worry about it. Harry’s image is still safe. Can you imagine the uproar if his fans found out how terrible of a boyfriend he was to me? They’d somehow make it my fault.”

You leave the practice room and return to your dressing room. You finally have the chance to relax without Harry looking over your shoulder and staring at you.  

“They’re starting to let the audience in,” Jane comes to tell you with less than two hours to spare until the show starts. 

You thank her quietly and lightly touch up on your makeup before walking around back to try and find Harry. You find him with the makeup artists that are putting on the beard for the opening scene. You laugh softly from behind and he turns to look at you. 

“At least it makes you older,” you tease. 

“Sexy, right?” Harry asks. 

You nod your head. “Oh, yeah, definitely,” you pause and scratch at your hand. “I just wanted to wish you good luck.”

Harry stares at you, surprised that you’d go out of your way to wish him good luck on his first opening night in his first Broadway show. He smiles at you. 

“Thank you, darling.”

You ignore the twist inside your stomach. 

….

Adrenaline is racing through you as you hear the orchestra start. From behind stage, you watch the dancers and ensemble cast move on stage. You trail behind Jane and the rest of the dancers as you dance on stage. 

Your muscle memory kicks in and you become Christine. You move across the stage as Christine. You sing as Christine. 

As the show progresses and as you change in and out of costumes, you get closer and closer to All I Ask of You. 

Off stage, you quickly change into another one of Christine’s gorgeous dresses. You run on stage and Harry’s not too far behind. You grab at his shoulders as the music starts and the two of you begin singing. 

The two of you move together perfectly on stage and his touch lingers. It makes your heart race as you approach the lyric right before you’re supposed to kiss him. 

“Say you love me,” you sing to him as Harry reaches to hold your face. Harry smiles gently and brushes a stray curl out of your face. 

“You know I do,” Harry sings back to you. Your hands squeeze each other’s tightly and you take a careful breath inward as Harry leans in to kiss you. 

The music roars in your ears as his mouth meets yours. You cling to him as Harry spins you around the stage with your mouths still together in a loving, passionate kiss between Christine and Raoul. 

The audience cheers when the song finishes and you kiss Harry two more times before the curtains close for intermission. You quickly run off stage with the rest of the ensemble cast and change into a new dress before running to the bathroom. Kelly is hot on your heels and helps you with the overflowing fabric before you hurry back to your dressing room for her to touch up on the wig and your makeup. 

Harry returns to the dressing room and Zoe and Bridget touch up his hair and stage makeup, quickly fastening the microphone in the right place. He takes a few gentle sips of water and watches you sit back against your chair as Kelly fixes the fallen curls on the wig before placing the crown on top of your head. 

The five minute warning bell rings and both you and Harry hurry back to the stage. You shake out your nerves. There’s only 45 minutes left of the show. It’s okay. You can do this. 

Harry reaches for your hand and you nearly pull away when you realize you have to hold his hand as you go on stage. He squeezes your hand tightly before leading you on stage. 

Music rings throughout the theater. Harry holds you securely as you dance and go through the scene. 

Time flies and before you know it, you kissed Harry for the last time on stage for the night before curtain call. The last song fades out and the audience begins to clap and cheer for the cast and crew. 

Harry’s hand leaves yours as he goes for his curtain call. The audience screams and claps in admiration for him, of course. He’s Harry Styles for crying out loud! 

Then it’s your turn to run out and bow in front of the audience. You take great pride in knowing that the audience was significantly louder for you than for Harry, and he’s the superstar. 

Once the curtains close, you reach for Harry. You squeeze his hand and give him a hug. “You did amazing, Harry,” you compliment. “Congrats on finishing your first Broadway show.”

He grins at you. “Thank you. That means the world to me coming from you.”

You smile again and the two of you walk together towards your shared dressing room. Kelly and Mandi are talking with the women in charge of Harry’s makeup, hair, and costume when the two of you arrive. Kelly and Mandi both give you congratulatory hugs before you settle down in your chair. 

Kelly quickly and carefully takes the wig off your head and sets it down. She works with the wig cap and unclasps the pins to your hair. She takes it off and you sigh in relief, leaning back in the chair as she combs through your hair. 

You take off your stage makeup in record time. You feel like your pores can actually breathe now. 

“Here’s your dress!” Gretchen exclaims, entering the room. You gently take it from her and gasp. It’s a gorgeous black dress with beautiful lace and embroidered flowers of a variety of colors. 

Kelly helps you change into the dress and fixes your hair. Jane comes into the room wearing a yellow dress. She grins and steps to the side. You scream excitedly when your brothers step into the room. 

You tackle the two of them into a hug. They laugh and Gretchen chastises you. “Don’t ruin the dress!”

“What’re you doing here? Mom said you were busy, especially with Molly!” you tell them as you stare at your brothers. 

“And miss your premier? No way,” Garrett laughs as your sister in law comes into view with your three year old niece in her arms. 

“Auntie!” Molly shouts, reaching for you. You immediately take her in your arms and shower her with tickles and kisses. “You look like and sing like a princess!”

“Thank you, baby,” you tell her. “I missed you so much. I’m so happy you’re here with your mommy and daddy.”

“Me too!”

Jeff walks in with Glenne and Harry’s suit in his arms. You scratch at your arm and Garrett glares at Jeff and Harry. Your little brother Nolan does the same and they cross their arms over their chest. You didn’t anticipate having to put yourself between your brothers and Harry. 

“Garrett, Nolan, you remember Harry,” you introduce them to each other once more. 

“How could we forget,” Nolan responds bitterly. You glare at him as Molly clings to your neck. “Nice job, though.”

Harry smiles uncomfortably and you hand Molly back over to your brother. You quickly say your goodbyes to your family before they leave the theater for the hotel. You gather your things together as Harry changes into a pink suit. 

“Gretchen and I think that the two of you should arrive at the after party red carpet together,” Jeff tells you and Harry. “Y’know, since you’re playing love interests. It would create good publicity.”

Your eyebrows crease together in confusion as you stare at Jeff. “I thought you didn’t want the columnists to speculate? If they found out that we have history, they’ll have a field day. They’ll do anything to try and link us together as a couple.” 

“That’s not the reason why I think you should go together. Just show them that you get along with each other off stage. Some are starting to speculate a strained off stage relationship between the two of you,” Jeff replies. 

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Of course they are. Jeff doesn’t want to make it seem like Harry is hard to work with or a diva. It’s all about protecting his image. “Fine.”

The two of you leave the dressing room together and walk out the back door where the limousine driver was waiting. Screams immediately reach your ears the moment you and Harry step out of the theater together. Cameras flash at the two of you and you’re immediately sent into a daze. You stumble back into Harry and he carefully guides you to the vehicle. His hand finds yours as he blocks the cameras from your view. 

He opens the door for you and you climb inside. He quickly shuts the door and you carefully pull your hand out of his grasp and set it on your lap. The driver pulls out of the alley and takes you and Harry to The Plaza Hotel for the after party. 

“Is it always like that when you leave places?” you ask after a few minutes of silence on the road. “Fans screaming at you and people taking photos of whoever you’re with?”

“Yeah, I suppose. I’m used to it though. ‘M sorry you had to go through that. It can be overwhelming if you’re not used to it,” he answers. 

You hum and fall into another awkward silence. You arrive at the hotel ten minutes later and the driver opens the door. Harry gets out first and screaming fills your ears again. He reaches into the car and holds out his hand for you. You hesitantly take his hand and he squeezes it reassuringly. 

He helps you out of the car and shuts the door behind you. His hand wraps around your torso and you momentarily forget that he’s your ex boyfriend. The feeling of his hand settling on your waist feels strangely comfortable, almost as if you’ve missed the feeling. You swallow hard and one of the event workers guides the two of you to the start of the red carpet. You walk on together and pose for the photographers until you’re pulled away for individual shots and interviews.  

“You were absolutely fabulous tonight, Y/n!” a reporter compliments you. “How does it feel to work with someone like Harry? Is it any different than when you shared the stage with John?”

“Thank you!” you grin at her. “It was definitely intimidating at first, considering his level of fame and stardom, but he just wants to be treated like everyone else. I have to help him here and there since he’s new to Broadway, but he’s a fast learner.”

It goes like that for a while. Reporters compliment you and then immediately ask you what it’s like to work beside Harry. Now your own accomplishments are being overshadowed by his stardom. It bitterly reminds you of the break up. 

When you make it inside the hotel and into the ballroom, you make a beeline for the bar and order a Jack and Coke. You find your seat beside Jane and you cheers before taking a generous sip of your drink. Harry doesn’t join you until dinner starts.  

Everyone at the table makes small talk as you eat when Kendall takes the empty seat next to Harry. Great. Just what you needed. Kendall says her hello’s before she turns her attention back on to Harry. You nudge Jane under the table when you realize that she’s glaring at her. 

You stand up and head to the bar to get more drinks. You just wanted the after party to go by as fast as possible. You don’t want to be near Harry, and you certainly don’t want to be near Kendall. You return to the table and Harry leans towards you. 

“What?” you ask him. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Harry. Just leave it alone,” you mumble. 

He looks like he wants to argue, but lets it go. He knows better than to start a fight with you when Jane won’t hesitate to cause a scene. 

Music starts and Jane grabs your hand, pulling you to the dance floor. You drink, laugh, and dance together. You don’t notice Harry watching you. 

After some time, you and Jane are both drunk on the dance floor. You can’t seem to control your giggles as you sing and dance. You stumble towards your table when Harry catches you before you fall. 

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet. He pushes hair out of your face. 

You smile drunkenly and nod. “Perfect, H,” you answer, swaying on your feet as Harry struggles to keep you up straight. 

He laughs. “You’ve had too much to drink, darling. Let’s get you to your room.”

You pout, whining at him. “No! I’m having fun. Leave me alone!”

Harry gently guides you to your dinner table and grabs your bag. He helps you out of the ballroom and into the hotel elevator. Your head rests on his shoulder. 

“Why are you helping me?” you ask him softly. Your warm breath hits his skin and it makes him shiver. 

Harry shrugs. “I dunno…. I think there’s always going to be a part of me that always wants to look out for you. I think that’s why.”

You hum and the elevator doors slide open. You step out, holding Harry’s hand as you walk to your room. He fishes through your bag for the room key. 

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

The door clicks open and he tugs you inside. “I think there’ll always be a part of me that always wants to be with you, despite how things ended between us,” you confess drunkenly, sitting on the bed. 

Harry stares at you with wide eyes and your eyes linger on his lips. Your hand reaches for his tie and you tug him towards you.

Without a second thought, you kiss him. 

#pls tell me what you think!!! i crave validation lmaosjhsgjajt #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry imagine #harry imagines #harry fanfic #my writing #all i ask of you

[samwrights]

Also (I did another ask so you can take your time) something nsfw with Iwa? Like you’re really close to Oikawa and he basically try to get you a boyfriend but every date is terrible to the point that one night you said to Iwa that you’re not “good looking” enough for someone to stay and then BAM he’s in the mood “Iwa praising you” 👀👀👀

Let’s just change No Filter Friday to Fuck Iwaizumi Friday

Warning: consumption of alcohol, language, praising, groping, slight dub-con (?)

“Dude, I am so fucking sick of this shit.” You snarl, barging into the shared apartment of Oikawa Tōru and Iwaizumi Hajime. Not necessarily an estranged occurrence, considering you and Oikawa were best friends. Even more so than the aforementioned roommates. The latter is sitting on their couch, perking up a little when you slam the weighted front door to the apartment. “Where the fuck is shittykawa?”

“Uh, he went out?” Iwaizumi flicks the television to pause the show he’s watching before peeling himself off the couch. For a moment, the ace stands still, watching you pace around his apartment tugging at your own hair while each step is accompanied the clomping of your heels against the hardwood. “What did he do now?”

“He keeps setting me up on these bunk ass blind dates and they all turn out to be fucking dicks!” Without permission or prompting, you all but stomp over towards their stainless steel fridge, grabbing the first beer bottle you set your sights on. Looking at the label, you scoffed. What college kid, athletes no less, stocked their fridge with heavy beers such as stouts?

Whatever, alcohol is alcohol.

Unceremoniously, you crack off the cap before pulling the the bulbous opening to your lips and taking rapid, unyielding glugs of the syrupy ale. Slamming the now half empty bottle on the granite counter, you wipe the residue, along with your nude inner lipstick off the back of your hand. “Who’d he set you up with this time? It was supposed to be Miya Atsumu tonight, right?”

“Yes,” you seethe, “he basically said that Tōru was wasting his time trying to find someone stupid enough to date me.” The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. While it wasn’t what Atsumu said verbatim, he may as well have. To be more accurate, he more so said that Tōru was never going to find anyone that met your standards and the whole blind date thing was just wasted efforts.

“You know that’s not true, [name].” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, arms still folded over his broad chest as he slinks into the kitchen beside you as down the rest of the stout and fiend for another bottle. He made a mental note to bill you later.

“At this rate, maybe he’s got a point. Maybe I expect way too much for an ugly bitch.” You let out a laugh before allowing the tiny bubbles of the alcohol to fill your throat instead.

“Oh come on,” he groans, rolling his olive eyes in addition to his whole head, “you know you’re hot—don’t start that whole act.” The words leave his lips so nonchalantly, so uncaring even, making you choke on the liquid until the brown ale is sputtering out of your mouth.

“E-excuse me?” In response, Iwaizumi just quirks a brow once again in confusion. Did he not realize what he just said or...?

“What?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime, did you just call me hot?” Oh. Did you not know that? What an insane concept.

“Yeah? That’s a known fact?” Huh. That was news to you. Why was he acting so casual about of it? Judging the look on your face, Iwaizumi realizes you’re entirely unaware of this little campus-wide fact. “[name], why do you think Oikawa carries a list of people that are dying to date you?”

Huh? “What? N-no, t-that’s not—“

“Oikawa hasn’t been setting you up, he’s been setting them up with you because they all beg him for a chance with you.”

Then there’s silence. A long, awkward silence that can’t even be tampered off with you languidly sipping at the stolen stout. “I’m still waiting for you to say psyche,” you admit. The ace groans, rolling his eyes again before snatching one of your wrists and dragging you back to the foyer. The two of you are standing in front of the large, entryway mirror with Iwaizumi standing behind you and the two of you locking eyes in the mirror.

“You’re the one girl on campus that nobody can touch,” he starts off slowly, pulling your hair away from where it had fallen over your shoulders so that your locks didn’t obstruct his view. “Of course, the first thing everyone notices is your face. Specifically, your lips.” As he speaks, he plants one hand at your waist, the other coming to have his digits ghost over your full, plump lips, still covered in lipstick despite you trying to remove the dry residue earlier.

“W-what are you—“

“Personally, I really like your collarbones.” Iwaizumi interrupts, tracing his fingers along the taut flesh before cupping one of your breasts over the velvet black crop top you were wearing. “Surprised you went with a push up bra, today. You don’t need it.” Your face burns beet red as he gives said tit a reassuring squeeze before stepping closer and pulling your back flush against his broad chest.

Iwaizumi leans closer, eye contact remaining through the mirror as his heady breaths fan out over your neck. His hand drags down roughly from your breast, down your stomach before grabbing your ass over your dark washed denim. “You really don’t feel everyone staring at your ass everyday? Or wonder why I walk behind you and Oikawa on the way to class?”

“I thought you didn’t like being around the both of us.”

“Nah, I just wanted to look at your butt.” Iwaizumi’s hand gives your behind one more squeeze in addition to his lips anchoring themselves at the base of your neck. But something isn’t making sense to you, even through the cloudy haze of lust washing over you as he gropes.

“Y-you said everyone’s been asking Oikawa to set them up with me, so what about you?” A snort leaves his nostrils, accompanied with laughter rumbling in his throat and it doesn’t go over your head that you can feel him. You can feel the vibration of his skin against yours as he suckles on your neck, marking his newfound territory, no doubt. You feel the shaking of his chest as he’s pressed against your clothed back. You can feel his hardening erection through his jeans, threatening to break through the zipper as it presses into your lower back—you can feel all of him with only thin clothing acting as a barrier.

“Oikawa said I wasn’t allowed to even try. Something about being the third wheel,” he mumbles, traveling to the other side of your neck. This time his attention is significantly less as he takes the hand anchored at your waist to pull your chin towards him, eye contact solidifying in real time rather than being held together through a mirror. “I really wanna kiss you.”

“So do it.” And that’s all he needs. All the permission he needed before allowing his mouth to all but swallow your own, his tongue ravaging the inside of your cavern and unleashing years of pent up desire and depravity. You turn on your heel, pushing yourself to be chest to chest with Iwaizumi, draping your arms over him to clutch at the fabric of his shirt covering his torso.

Iwaizumi presses harder into you, forcing you to stumble into the mirror as his tongue massages the roof of his mouth. His large hands, no longer satisfied with feeling fabric in them, start stripping you of your shirt and bra hastily before throwing them onto the floor. “So fucking pretty, baby.” The ace mumbles, olive green eyes locked with yours as he takes one nipple into his mouth. “I’ve fantasized about this every day for years.” A moan escapes your lungs, though you’re unsure if the admission is the cause or the ministrations themselves.

“I-Iwa...”

“Don’t wanna fantasize anymore,” he drawls, tongue swirling around the pebble of your hardened nipple, “lemme fuck your pretty pussy, baby. Wanna feel you nice and tight around my dick.” Your hands frantically clutch at the back of his shirt, shedding the fabric hastily before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down along with his boxers.

Iwaizumi Hajime has a pretty cock. Who knew? It’s a beautiful amalgam of olive toned skin blushed bright red, weeping precum and screaming for relief.

Despite the minimal preparatory work, Iwaizumi learns that you’re absolutely soaked as he peels your underwear off and plunges his cock in with no preamble because Jesus Christ, he needs to stuff his length as far in as he can possibly go. “Holy shit,” he drawls.

For just a moment, the two of you are still, save for the way your chests are rising and falling rapidly as you both try to catch your breath. Iwaizumi is grinning, canines poking out as he grins, and despite the events that lead to his dick being buried inside you, there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes the dusty olive hue seem to shine like peridots. As he finally feels oxygen returning to his brain and settling the dizziness that overwhelms him, he lets out a soft laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” but you know by his tone there’s more to it than just nothing, “never thought I’d get to say I’m the one fucking the sexiest girl on campus.” By the way the walls of your warmth momentarily clench around his length before relaxing again, Iwa knew he’d done something right. Apparently the praise was going straight from your ears to your pussy. “So fucking tight, too.” He adds, moving his hips slightly to allow the weight of his dick to pressure your nerves. The slow movements in addition to his lips that were now latched onto your collarbones made you dizzy, made you want to scream. “Lemme hear your voice, baby,”

If that was supposed to be a warning, the warning did little to prepare you for the intensity of his hips bucking into yours rapidly and ferociously. Thank god or whoever was up there that Iwaizumi was holding you in place because surely you would have slid to the ground with the way your feet were nearly dangling above the floor. On every withdrawal of his cock, a breathy whine leaves your lips, wordlessly begging and crying for more. “Be a good girl and wrap your legs around me, ‘kay?” The ace manages out between his own pants. You could only oblige.

The slightest shift allows the curve of his dick to nuzzle and nestle along your g-spot ever so slightly, teasingly coaxing your walls to tighten to prolong the feeling of Iwaizumi filling you whole. The entire time, the only sounds leaving your lips are broken sobs of the name of the man fucking you while he is spewing every filthy thought that came to mind. “You feel so fucking good around me, baby.”

“Want you to cum in me,” you mumble, nestling your face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder while laying limp in his control.

“Yeah, gonna take my cum like a good girl?” In response, you could only nod because words were just not a thing right now. “I asked you a question, baby girl.”

“Yes!” You cry out, unaware of the sound of the locks turning not even three feet from the two of your entangled bodies as Oikawa opens the door to the apartment.

“Iwa, I’m—oh what the fuck guys.”

#samwrights #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyu!! #nsfhq #no filter fridays #haikyuu iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi is perf bf #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi headcanons #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader

[disappearinginq]

🖊 + 👀 + 🧠 ?💻 + ✨ ?

I see what you're doing here ;-)

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

“What am I, a fucking thirteen year old girl?” Magnum exploded. “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned, because historically, you are hands down the worst judge of character of anyone I have ever met in my life! The clients you pick - one of them shot you, one of them had their fucking plane stolen by the Colombian drug cartel and didn’t think to mention it. Your former boss? Killed your fiancé. You supposedly vetted the people who wound up waterboarding you, held you and Kumu hostage, and then kidnapped me!”

“You know, when it’s listed off like that, it does sound pretty terrible,” Rick muttered to TC.

“So yeah, when you go on and on about how great Ethan is, I would like to think that yes, yes he really is just that awesome - because it means that finally I don’t have to worry about what you drag me into!” shouted Magnum. He turned to Ethan. “Sorry. It’s nothing personal, it's just…” He made a violent hand gesture in frustration. “You know?”

Ethan vaguely nodded, trying not to side-eye Juliet. “No, those sound like valid concerns.”

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

Oh god. Like...100 of them. And they range all over the place. One is a fic for Magnum where Thomas has to give a Memorial day speech at a sponsored event and instead of pitching the typical nationalist speech, he points out that he's getting sick of old men finding new ways to send young men to die and calls out the leadership for thinking the answer to every problem is just throwing bodies at it; one for a multichapter fic that was definitely just a "I hate Valentine's Day" fic for Lucifer where Eros is running around influencing people with the less than 'good' types of love, like jealous infatuation that leads to murder; a fic absolutely ripping Felicity a new one for the bullshit she started to spout off to Oliver in the later seasons of Arrow; a crapton of Magnificent 7 fics in the ATF AU that are from when I was like...13 and I keep as a reminder for how far I've come; and a few Smallville ones that aren't even getting a plot description here. I think I even have a Psych one where Shawn just flips shit on finding out his father was shot at the end of one of the seasons.

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

Unlikely to ever manifest at the rate I'm going lately - I was tossing around an idea for Roswell, New Mexico with @amandagaelic for writing a version of the White Room episode from the original series with the new cast. Because while it's one of the few shows I actually appreciate the romantic subplots, I much prefer family dynamics, especially between Max and Michael.

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

Definitely for Wrong Side. A lot I could get from experience, but like, the language and the politics of the region, the effects of long term starvation and illness, the logistics in how the rescue would be facilitated and trying to reconcile what we see in the flashbacks in the episode compared to what they've said (or the reality of the situation). It's why it takes so long to update it because I get stuck in between what I want to happen for the sake of story and what I know would happen in the real world.

Edit: now that I typed that all out - Damnatio of Lucifer fame is a one that I did a lot of research into too. Like the jurisdictions for certain crimes, the geography and history of that area of California, summoning rituals, runes, the history of angels and Enochian language, and a lot of religious research.

✨ Choose three adjectives to compliment your own writing.

Oh shit. Ummmm. Emotional, family-focused, Feels? That's all of the english language I know right now.

#games we play #asks answered #fic answers #forgot about some of those WIPs until I looked in the folder #and damn #those will NEVER see daylight on AO3. #Or anywhere else