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chosoniisan · 5 months

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my, what a big heart you have ↠ kamo choso

↠pairing: (wolf) kamo choso | (fox) reader

↠setting: (modern) hybrid au, but make it subtle-ish

↠genre: dark romance-esque

↠caution: yandere behavior (obsession, manipulation, stalking); minor injuries/blood; masochism; (my size/height kink strikes again)

↠summary: you think nothing of it when choso from your office floor invites you over to work on a department report (but perhaps that was your mistake)

↠authoress' notes: I'm so weak to hybrid au stuff and wanted to try my hand at it, particularly with a predator/predator dynamic (although foxes are notoriously skittish), so here we are //// I know this needs to be fleshed out a bit more, but I wanted to write something in-universe as a baseline for future revisiting purposes :')

“Choso, I want to go home.”

Lacing peachy temperance with a touch of diplomacy at the end.

“You just got here, though. . .”

In exchange for stifling a curled lip, portending the razor edge of a sneer, you’re overtaken by the stark dip in your brow and your slightly lifted chin, not so subtly flirting with unfounded authority. “Choso, I’m going home, now.” Despite pure unwavering rolling like thunder, threatening to splinter through his marrow from your pitch alone, he doesn’t flinch. It’s as if he’s utterly immune to the implications blistering in the air, but you’re not opposed to translating a suggestion into plain letters if it means he’ll relinquish his post in front of the door. “So, I would appreciate it if you could just let me leave before it gets too late.”

“But I don’t want you to go yet.” Said simply, too innocently for the deteriorating situation at hand, yet it’s his tilted head and rosy look that has you bristling in full. “I really enjoy your company.”

“That’s the problem.” Cyanide burns on your palate, enough to make you wince and wish in hindsight to take it back because thanks to him you’ve become every bit of the thorn starving to make an open wound out of him. If only he had kept his distance; if only you hadn’t toed the line of dangerous, harrowing, dawning calamity. “I don’t want to be anything other than coworkers. I don’t want to be acquaintances, or friends, or whatever you think we are.”

He blinks at you, genuinely perplexed and not at all reeling back from the pang of a knife driven to the core of him, right where he’s fleshy and oh so sensitive. (There is something horrifically wrong with him, beyond the obvious.) “Did I do something to upset you. . .?” You don’t know which is more audacious—the inkling of a warble in his voice or the absolute refusal to swallow the bitter pill of your rejection. The latter seems to be winning out in your head. . .that is, until he’s a handful of steps closer, encroaching into your orbit in earnest and before you can contemplate recoiling back. (Calm down, you’re not caught yet, there’s still time to weasel your way out of this.) “Was it the tea? I was sure I’d gotten the brand you usually drink at lunch—”

“—Choso, no, that’s not what I’m talking about—”

“—Or maybe I messed up getting pastries for a snack instead of something savory—”

“—Stop, Choso, I’m serious—”

“—But you’re always going to that bakery after work since you’ve got a sweet tooth, so I thought—”

Selectively tuning him out now that you’ve reached the point of no return where you’re primed to throw caution to the wind and make a break for it while he’s corded with untold mania. Unfortunately, the throes of delirium don’t negate the fact that his kind is big, nightmarishly mountainous, and he’s no exception, outsizing you as easily as he breathes. Of course you know that, have always known that in the back of your head, but try telling your thump, thump, thumping heart that when you’re squarely at the epicenter of him. And that’s before you even factor in the festering of his true colors like a contagion, none too surreptitiously admitting to his sins at the foot of your confessional. Which begs the question. . .if he’s willing to divulge his rotten habit of prying into your periphery while you’re none the wiser, then what is he actually keeping close to the chest?

No, scratch that, you don’t want to find out, and you won’t find out if you can help it. The key is to catch him while his guard is down, to stance yourself on the balls of your feet, to measure the distance to the door in a few frantic bounds, to take a deep breath and worry less about the inevitable fallout from your escape. By the time the dust clears, you’ll be turning in your transfer request, and with any luck they’ll relocate you to the Sapporo office, sure, you’re not the arctic type, but you’ll take brutal winters over him brutalizing you—

Right then dizziness spells over you, and you don’t realize it’s too late until it is.

“. . .Are you okay?” Echoes with ripe sincerity, except when did Choso constellate himself this closely to you? Enough that you can feel the heat of him tiding over you to the point of drowning beneath the surface? Is your undoing thinking that you could foil him not with your stature but with a head start toward the door? Backed against the wall, desperate to turn tail and run for the hills (literally), you think so.

“Maybe it would be best if you sat down for a bit. I can get you some water, too, that should help you feel better, yeah?” Comes another attempt at cloying coercion, whisking straight through one ear and out the other, has no choice but to when your pitifully vulpine brain is fraying at the edges, cannibalizing itself up before he has a chance to dig his claws into your grey matter.

Claws and not fingers, because he is every bit vicious, unseamed, hungry for a taste with an open hand—

“Don’t touch me.”

Split blood and wolf’s flesh cake underneath your fingernails, nauseating an already faintly you.

See how quick you are to spurn him, ravage him right up until you’re faced with the spatter of your transgressions. You’re frozen like a sheet of ice, aren’t you, and you can’t even deign a look at the sticky dead weight abandoned at your side. Though out of sight, out of mind is wishful thinking on your part when he’s brandishing your self-infliction before his eyes, almost as if he’s committing those jagged fault lines to memory. Short-term memory, considering it’ll be the final remnants of you.

You think your demise begins with his full-mooned gazing and a flicker of pink across his lip. But. “I’m sorry, really sorry for making you mad—I didn’t mean to, I swear.” In the end, his tail is tucked between his legs, matched only by a desire to endear himself into your good graces in spite of reaping your consequences. While you’re very much out of your mind, losing your sense of self before the rest of you follows, you’ve cobbled enough scraps to appreciate the absurdity of the situation. Him, reveling in desecration like it’s a virtue. “You probably want to scratch and bite me some more, right? I don’t mind, no—” he presents the untouched sweep of his forearm: an offering for your consumption, “I want you to take your anger out on me, to punish me with pain, it’s what I deserve.”

Blanching not from his proximity (you need only part your lips for a mouthful of sinew), and neither from the madness of him in spades (tufts slanted forward amongst a ruby-rich flush), but because he thinks you to be untamed, a rabid thing in a delicate, softly shell.

And he’s right.

Laid bare before him, there’s a sharp prickling in the corners of your eyes, even more so when you’re keen to an itch that sparks from your synapses to the taper in your teeth. This is his fault, all of it: he’s the one eating away at you until you’re raw and deeply unstitched. So when you inevitably bare your fangs back, you, a girl of prey, he’s rightfully deserving of the blame.

At least that’s what reason dictates—and you are far removed from it. Enough that you fall into the embrace of collapse, or what ends up as the cradle of his arms, true to his word of taking your savagery as his own. But for now you know he’s beyond satiated with a misty-eyed you staining the front of his shirt: the cacophony of chest-deep drumming and incessant swish, swishing says so.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he tries soothing you in a quieted mantra, petting along the back of your head and exploiting the receptive patch behind your folded flaps; that only draws an unwanted lilt along with a fresh wave of tears.

“You can hurt me as much as you want, as much as you need—I’ll still take care of you, I promise.”

(Perhaps residing in his stomach wouldn’t have been such a bad fate after all.)

#choso x reader #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #choso #choso kamo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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bethanydelleman · 6 months

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Northanger Abbey Readthrough Ch 31

Whew, I have reached the end. That was a lot of work. We'll see if I do another one of these...

but as nothing, after all, could be more natural than Catherine’s being beloved

Awwwww...

Also, the Morlands 🤝Jane Bennet, believing that their beloved person will obviously be beloved by others:

Miss Bennet’s astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly natural -Pride & Prejudice, Ch 40 (This is when Elizabeth tells Jane about Darcy's first proposal)

having never heard evil of him, it was not their way to suppose any evil could be told.

This becomes a really big deal in Sense & Sensibility, Pride & Prejudice, and Persuasion, Elinor is constantly asking for more information about Willoughby, Meryton's not knowing about Wickham's character causes havoc, and Mr. Elliot is another case of hidden information revealing his character. Fortunately for Catherine, Henry is perfect.

Now, Henry may have been cut off from his father, but he's by no means poor, Of a very considerable fortune, his son was, by marriage settlements, eventually secure; his present income was an income of independence and comfort, and under every pecuniary view, it was a match beyond the claims of their daughter. It sounds like Woodston is a very good living, probably similar to Edmund's £800/year, so Henry is fully independent without any help from his father. It sounds like he will also inherit a portion of his mother's dowry when his father dies. Catherine bagged a catch! (without knowing it)

Henry returned to what was now his only home, to watch over his young plantations, and extend his improvements for her sake, to whose share in them he looked anxiously forward; and Catherine remained at Fullerton to cry. Whether the torments of absence were softened by a clandestine correspondence, let us not inquire. Mr. and Mrs. Morland never did—they had been too kind to exact any promise; and whenever Catherine received a letter, as, at that time, happened pretty often, they always looked another way.

Oh it's so cute. I can't even. But also, I WANT TO READ THOSE LETTERS!!!! Cruel Authoress, Jane Austen, giving me that tease. I want to read Henry Tilney sending little Gothic stories to Catherine with subtle sexual undertones...

Anyway

Then the narrator is like, "It's obviously the end of the novel, so you know this will resolve soon." Ah yes, so we do. Excellent observation.

Eleanor marries Lord Laundry List and paves the way for Catherine to get her man. This explanation of it is just so good:

I have only to add—aware that the rules of composition forbid the introduction of a character not connected with my fable—that this was the very gentleman whose negligent servant left behind him that collection of washing-bills, resulting from a long visit at Northanger, by which my heroine was involved in one of her most alarming adventures.

To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen is to do pretty well

The narrator really comes back in this last chapter and teases us with this immoral "moral" message:

and professing myself moreover convinced that the General’s unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled, by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience.

Lady Catherine plays this same role in Pride & Prejudice, as an aside. But yes, is the moral of this story that parental tyrants are good for love, or that being a rebellious son is rewarded? Either way, not the sort of moral a good, upstanding citizen should want.

What more can I say? I love this novel. It's so relatable, it's so human, the characters are so well drawn even though they are parodies! I want to be Catherine's best friend but I also want to steal her husband. General Tilney needs to fall down a staircase (a recently renovated one).

#jane austen #northanger abbey #northanger abbey readthrough #now I need to make a masterpost...

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storybookprincess · 5 months

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Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "storybookprincess "?

oh god this question could lead to days of contemplation so i'm not gonna overthink it & just throw down the ones that come to my mind HERE WE GO

nothing's quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts

voltron, klance

the fic that got me through my parents' divorce i truly wish i were joking

still running by lesetoilesfous

hxh, killugon

the fic that had the biggest influence on me as a writer

katsuki_fc wrote by tetsurashian

yuri on ice, victuuri

less about the ship, more a love letter to internet fandom as a whole. brings me the most joy of any fic i've ever read

worship you by mortarsmayfall

daredevil, matt/foggy

oh 2015 daredevil fandom, you scratched such a particular itch in my brain. this fic more than any others

give it to me easy now by zenelly

hxh, leopika

easily my most re-read fanfic. it captures that early 20s confusion & overwhelm & defeat in such a perfect way & it was a balm to my soul for years because of that

the naked truth by capsing

marvel, spideypool

wade accidentally adopts a hairless cat. need i say more?

prince & prince by Authoress

bnha, tododeku

HOW DID I ALMOST FORGET THE FIC THAT GAVE ME THE WORST BRAINROT OF ANY FIC IN MY LIFE JFC

summer stars by pitviperofdoom

bnha, tododeku

SPEAKING OF TODODEKU FICS THAT REWORTE MY GOTDAMN BRAIN CHEMISTRY

tell me all that brings you grace by arahir

sk8, tadaai

i'm not even a big tadaai shipper but god DAMN this fic brought its a-game!!!!!!!!!! also it's currently unfinished & would any fic fave list be complete without an incomplete masterpiece that you would sell a kidney to see completed??

crust and sugar over by shanastoryteller

yuri on ice, victuuri

what were they putting in the water that made yoi fanfic so good????? this is one of the best

OKAY IM STOPPING MYSELF NOW BEFORE I OVERTHINK THIS LIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and re: the username--there's not really much of a meaning to it, besides wanting to be a princess from a storybook!!!!

#asked and answered #Anonymous #fic recs #this was such a trip down fandom memory lane #FUCK I CANT SLEEP & REALIZED I FORGOT THE FATAL ROSE ONE OF MY FAVE KILLUGON FICS #IT POSTED SUMMER OF 2019 & I STILL REMEMBER THAT THE UPDATE SCHEDULE WAS WEDNESDAYS AND SUNDAYS #BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH I LOOKED FORWARD TO EVERY NEW CHAPTER

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zygarde-the-guardian · 4 months

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Chicken (Squawkabilly) Mail!

• A few books on Rosharan geography.

• A few books on Rosharan ecology.

• A few gemstones encased in glass spheres.

Svirak-Daughter-None has a letter in her beak. It reads:

“Dear Brightnesses Zygarde Zita, Atalanta, Kore, and Mysia,

I believe that these might interest you a lot. I admittedly feel somewhat inadequate to explain things about my home, being from one small spot on a large continent. These books and their authoresses should perhaps provide more insight than I could. Merry Deliberd Day!

Life Before Death,

-Shallahi”

Woah... Fascinating! I wonder how much is different! Happy holidays!!!!!!

#zita speaks!#pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #legendary pokemon #pokemon rp #real pokemon #pokemon #zygarde #pkmn rp

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eunikia · 9 months

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Empress Joséphine as she appears on the inside cover of Lenormand’s ‘Mémoires de l’Impératrice Joséphine’

Portrait of Marie-Anne Lenormand by Jeanne-Philiberte Ledoux

JOSÉPHINE AND THE FRENCH PROPHETESS

Not a name on everyone’s lips these day, but in the Napoleonic era Marie-Anne Lenormand was a major figure at the French court. Born in Alençon in 1772, Lenormand became renowned as a mystic and prophetess. She claimed to have given predictions to a host of prominent individuals, such as author Germaine de Staël, central figures of the French Revolution including Maximilien Robespierre and Jean-Paul Marat, and even Tsar Alexander I of Russia. But it is for her close relationship with Empress Joséphine, wife of Napoleon Bonaparte, that she is best remembered.

Empress Joséphine was intensely fascinated by the occult, much to Napoleon’s frustration. She had interests in tarot, necromancy, and other occult arts, but she was so taken by Lenormand that the mystic would become one of her closest confidantes. Through this illustrious connection Lenormand’s fame was secured.

Though she was not to all tastes, and repeatedly found herself imprisoned, if only ever for short periods. Initially incarcerated for attempting to save Marie Antoinette from execution, she is alleged to have successfully foreseen Robespierre’s execution, Louis-Philippe’s rise to the throne, Joséphine’s divorce from Napoleon, and Napoleon’s eventual fall and death in exile. Obviously these predictions ruffled feathers – Napoleon was hardly pleased with the news of his future demise, and his wife’s persistent interest in Lenormand proved a source of conflict in his marriage. One of Lenormand’s short stints in prison occurred whilst Napoleon finalised his divorce from Joséphine in 1809, which she had predicted when she read his palm in 1807, and her prediction of his death in exile was rumoured to be accurate to the day. This renowned accuracy of her predictions led, in 1811, to her even being asked to join the French secret police!

By 1820, however, Lenormand had left Paris and renounced horoscopes, claiming her days as a prophetess were over. She now turned her hand to writing, and began a second career as an authoress, producing a number of works including the Mémoires de l’Impératrice Joséphine (Memoirs of Empress Joséphine). Filling three volumes, the work included anecdotes from Lenormand’s relationship with Empress Joséphine, and even a copy of a letter of support Joséphine wrote to her when Lenormand faced persecution. These memoirs were dedicated to Tsar Alexander I, who sent her a diamond ring in acknowledgement. Lenormand died in 1843, and is now buried in Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris.

#Empress Joséphine Marie-Anne Lenormand Napoleon Bonaparte the occult

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revived-ophelia · 2 months

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anonymous asked: Thou hast interacted unbeknowst with a post authored by a maid marked with the Scarlet Letter in the sight of our Lord Christ

goodest-wyfe92 answered: Blessings on thee, I have deleted the post and block'd the authoress. May my dashboard be pure and untainted as my soul and the Lord protect me from gazing upon unholy words, lest their evil poison me unawares

#staysafe

#this is what they sound like to me

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strawberry-muffin-crisis · 2 years

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OKAY YALL

Forty notes: WE ARE DOING THIS!!

Thank you to everyone who helped!

@teengage-miss-frizzle @crymeariveronceagain @i-am-a-freg @destinyisagift @bring-the-storm @i-dont-know-nor-care-go-away @iwritelikeshit @sa20052 @hollyleaf39 @bumbl-b-bagel @a-rand0m-gay-multishiper and anyone I missed, THANK YOU!!

Please comment if you would like to be tagged in updates!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Alone

Chapter One: The Storm

The rain beat against the window as the last light of day faded. The clouds had been dark and low all day, and finally, toward evening, unleashed a violent storm. A melancholic wind howled around the white cottage, and the green shutters tugged against their battered locks as the tempest buffeted them with no hint of mercy.

But the walls were solid and sturdy, and inside, the sounds of the storm were muffled, replaced instead with the peaceful crackle of the fire in its grate. The light was dim, as the only other source was a lamp set on the table across the room. Papers were scattered across the modest oak surface. Some of them were in stacks, others spread out. All of them were covered with words, written in a sure, flourishing script. Some of these were crumpled on the floor, some were folded between the pages of a dictionary, serving to hold places in it. And more were being added to the piles.

A woman sat at the table, her feet tucked up under her in a way that could not have been a comfortable position to hold for very long. Hers were the stacks of papers, hers was the handwriting on them, and hers was the house. She had bought it with her own money, accomplished by the selling of her first novel.

She was an authoress, and the townspeople looked askance at her for it.

Another dip in the inkwell, another toss of her braid over her shoulder, another scratch of her quill, and her name was signed boldly on the last page of her new manuscript.

Corabella Mueller.

When she first began writing she had considered using a pen name--Rowena sounded gloriously dramatic--but after some consideration, she had defiantly signed her own name and decided that if the town was to bring her to the stake for this deviation from customs, they'd have no doubts about who they were burning.

The quill was laid to rest in its case, having been carefully drained free of ink. Corabella gathered up a particular stack of papers and laid them in a long, flat box, sighing.

There's the last one.

She stood, wincing as her feet came back to life. Dratted things. She could stand on them all day, why couldn't they handle being sat on?

A rumble, followed by an unforgiving crack, sounded close outside, and Corabella shivered. Her house was sturdy, it was true, but this was a storm the likes of which she hadn't seen in a long time.

Another rumble reached her ears, and suddenly she realized that it wasn't a rumble at all, it was someone pounding on the front door.

Grabbing her lantern and her dagger-like letter opener for safety, Corabella hurried into her slippers and made for the foyer. It wasn't far away (the house was modestly sized), but in the space between her parlor and the door she had time to work up all sorts of scenarios, few of which were pleasant.

The pounding continued, but it stopped suddenly, and Corabella fought with the locks. The sight which met her eyes upon opening the door was--

Black. Solid, absolute darkness which flung rain in her face and soaked her through in an instant. Gasping for breath, she snatched the lantern out of harm's way and went to slam the door shut. But a cry of pain stopped her, and she looked down.

And there was a person, collapsed on the doorstep.

"Gracious!" Corabella gasped, and nearly set the house on fire with the way she flung the lantern and letter opener onto a table in order to get this person into the house.

"What on earth," she began, dragging the soaking wet stranger into the foyer and forcing the door shut with all her strength.

The stranger lay panting on the rug, making no move to get up.

"I'm sorry--I'm getting water all over your floors," she said, for it was a she.

And she was also a foreigner, for her accent was strange. But Corabella had no more time to meditate on that--there were more important things to worry about.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, bending down and helping her guest to her feet.

"No, not if you don't count being soaked a-and having a few bruises from falling on the step," the stranger said, forcing a smile.

"Gracious! Here, take that wet coat off before you catch your death of pneumonia. Come in the parlor and get warm by the fire. You poor thing! I'll make some tea."

And the stranger was ushered in, given soup as well as tea, and sat in the chair, her jaw clamped stubbornly shut to keep her teeth from chattering.

Corabella thought, as she pulled up another chair, that the stranger looked rather small, buried in a heap of blankets. She was gazing into the fire and shaking slightly, judging by the quivering of the dark curl that was defiantly getting in her face. Her eyes were dazed, and dark circles ringed them.

"Are you alright now?" Corabella asked. "Is there anything else I can-- oh dear--"

The stranger had started to cry.

"Oh dear," she repeated. "Please don't-- it's really alright, you don't have to-- here, take this," and she held out a handkerchief edged with a modest trimming of lace.

"Thank you," the girl managed to respond. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry, it's just that, oh dear," and her tears increased. She sounded rather young, and again that strange accent marked itself out in Corabella's mind.

The only option seemed to be letting the visitor cry, and so the young mistress of the house did that very thing, sitting anxiously in her chair and trying not to stare.

"You mustn't try to go out again in this weather," she began as the storm sitting in her armchair lessened somewhat. "I have some extra rooms, you're welcome to stay. Would you like that?"

The girl sniffed and looked at Corabella over the edge of her blanket with fresh tears brimming. Her eyes were very blue.

"I don't want to be a bother," she began, but her host cut her off.

"Nonsense, it's just myself here, and you won't be bothering anyone. I'll go up and make sure you have candles and enough blankets, and you can borrow a gown to sleep in. Drink some more of your tea."

She made her way upstairs and unlocked one of the rooms, fluffing up the pillows and pulling heavier quilts out of the wardrobe. It took her a few minutes to get the room to a satisfactory state, and she hurried back downstairs into the parlor.

"Everything is ready," she said cheerfully. "If you'll just follow me upstairs-- oh."

The poor stranger, worn out by the storm both outside and within her own heart, had fallen asleep in the chair where she sat.

#two alone #not quite historical fanfiction #historical fiction #muffin writes #muffin writes things #crisis writes #crisis writes thing #writers of tumblr #wattpad writers #the struggles of a writer #writers on tumblr #writing

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drakken-the-beast-hunter · 6 days

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Continued from here:

Leaving the ship, the man took in his new surroundings with a slow movement of his head. Drakken adjusted his hat as the sea breeze sought to lift it from its place at the top of his head. Tilting the brim down so that it hid his face somewhat, the Hunter followed the crowd from the ship and into the rabble of the market, where a barrage of scents and sights met him. Quickly he shrugged off the discomfort, scanning the area for a nearby inn. He had received a letter sometime back, clearly from a noble lady which had requested his services and that he might travel afar for the aid of a catch and release of some creature.

Drakken did not normally take on such requests, but something about the letter gripped his curiosity so that he could hardly refuse. He did have a soft spot for the womenfolk, this he could not deny, and the sincere tone of the authoress’ written words had made rare smile form upon his lips as he quickly read through the letter.

Passing through the door of the establishment, the Hunter took in the space, the tavern’s patrons loud and rowdy, singing and yelling as they consumed their food and drink. As he stared around at the people, the Hunter suddenly met a pair of soft amber eyes that held his gaze strong. Giving a polite nod of the head to the woman, Drakken approached the booth.

Perhaps this was her?

His features neutral, he greeted her with some formality:

“Aye, that be me.”

@helreginn

#drakken #drakken speaks #helreginn #rp #rp thread #closed rp #fantasy rp

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raymmax · 1 year

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A Garrett Park Archives moment 01.22.2019

A Garrett Park Archives moment From a letter from Mrs. E. M. Riordan, dated 10/6/1966 “Many commuters went into the city on the morning train returning in the evening – The train was used for all transportation to the social affairs, etc., in the town (City) “Temple Baily the authoress lived with her Father Captain Bailey in the summers – She borrowed (me) when I was three to spend the day…

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#Temple Bailey

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steele-soulmate · 1 year

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Tattooed Wings One Shot, Peter Does a “10 Things I Can’t Tour Without” for Buzzfeed

WORDS: 800

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:

I’M ALIVE! I apologize for dropping off the face of the earth, but I was terribly sick with a severe case of bronchitis- so bad in fact, that I was hospitalized for six days while the doctors struggled to diagnose me with something. Anyways, I’m going to post one chapter a day from now on out- I’ve been spoiling you all with two, sometimes three chapters a day (really, what the heck was I even thinking) I’m slowing down uploading chapters due to a wide numbery of reasons, but don’t worry dear readers- I haven’t kicked the bucket just yet!

“Hey Buzzfeed, Peter Steele here, and I am doing ‘Ten Things I can’t Tour Without’.”

“Okay, so first off, I have my hoard of sobriety coins. I checked myself into rehab following my life changing heart attack at forty eight years young back in 2010. Reason being, as I’m sure many of you know, I received my first soulmark- a mermaid behind my ear. The very idea that I even had someone out there who was mine was more than enough for me to snap my life back into order. I did rehab, I did medication for my mental health, I did AA and NA… and now, I’m so happy that I did. So yeah, I have one month, six months, one year, five years, ten years, and everything else in between.”

“Next, my vast vitamins collection. I take a handful of stuff every day, along with heavy medication for bipolar and depression, just to keep me alive for just a little bit longer. Going through TSA with these is always quiet fun. A couple of times, I’ll get someone who’ll stick one into their mouth to make sure that it’s not drugs or whatever.”

“And I also have my trademark green shirts, which I’m not going to unfold my lovely wife’s hard work at squeezing everything into my tiny suitcase, but I will invite you in to take a look inside my suitcase and see my vast collection of green shirts that are in my procession.”

“Alright, so now my distortion petal, which adds a really awesome sound to my bass whenever I’m onstage. This is one that I’ve been using for… six years, I think…? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine… no, so sorry, nine years. Little buddy here is a good one.”

“So next up, we have my guitar. I have an acoustic one that I keep in the tour bus, because my wife likes country music more so than what the band plays, and I live to please my woman. I keep my trademark green bass with the other equipment that goes with the band to wherever we’re performing next.”

“Can I talk about condoms? Because I never go anywhere without these, they are really nice to have on hand for frisky times that crop up from time to time. Alright, moving on now.”

“As I’m quite sure people know, my wife has twin nieces, Aria and Evie, who spend a lot of time with their ‘Auntie Mary Claire and Uncle Peter’. It’s literally the best feeling in the world, having little people who depend on you. So whenever I go on tour, they always send me letters and artwork that they made. Look at this one that Aria made of an elephant, isn’t it cool? And Evie made this one of a monkey. I guess you could say that I’m a family man at heart.”

“My daughter, Elizabeth, made this bracelet for me, and I wear it everywhere. The first time I went through TSA security at an airport, the bracelet dinged the scanners so I had to take it off. Ever since then, I only remove it whenever I’m going through security scanners anywhere. Fun fact, but she and the twin are really close, so close in fact that they oftentimes refer to themselves as triplets.”

“Whenever my woman can’t join me, I carry pictures of her, which I’m not showing you, they are for my eyes and my eyes alone.”

“When my sweetheart can join me, I’m so happy.”

“Peter, you’re such a dork.”

“But I’m your dork, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are my dork.”

“Now can I get a kiss, my woman?”

“Anything for my husband.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@starchild0985

@xxgreendruidessxx

@elianafilthyrose

@angel-cherrycake

@sheris532

#Type O Negative #Heavy metal #Peter Steele #FanFiction #Soulmate AU #Tattooed Wings #One Shot #Buzzfeed

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therepublicofletters · 1 year

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30.03.2023 | Long overdue research trip to Oxford

#I’m alive I promise #letters from the authoress #dark academia #light academia #original

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 2 years

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Around the Corner (Part 1)

Oliver Wood and the Reader couldn’t hate each other more. On the other hand, neither could be more in love with their mysterious pen pal.

Oliver Wood x Ravenclaw!Reader

3.5k words

A/N: Inspired by the movies “You’ve Got Mail” and “The Shop Around the Corner”. I actually loved writing this one!

“Here comes your boyfriend,” Cho Chang giggled as she looked down the Great Hall.

I scowled at my younger teammate and turned around. Sure enough, Oliver Wood was walking towards me, eyes ablaze. Coming to yell at me. Again.

“Wood,” I greeted coldly as he approached the Ravenclaw table.

He scowled in response. “Did you do it?” he spat.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Do what?”

“You know what,” he answered through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes at me.

A smirk played on my lips. “Oh please, Oliver,” I mocked in a syrupy voice. “Just give me a little hint about what you mean.”

The boy huffed and leaned in close, our noses almost touching. “Someone,” he hissed, “messed with my laundry after the house-elves took it. Now all my whites are pink.”

Sure enough, a pale pink shirt collar peeked out from underneath his black robes, clashing with his Gryffindor tie.

“How unfortunate,” I purred, turning back to my breakfast.

He slammed his fist down on the table. My teammates around me flinched, but I just smirked back at the burly sixteen-year-old boy.

“You’re such a- such a-” he stuttered.

I blinked with mock innocence. “Why Ollie,” I cooed, using the name I knew he hated. “Your face matches your shirt.”

“You’ll pay for this,” he growled. With that, he turned on his heel and stomped over to the Gryffindor table, where his friends were watching our conversation with interest.

The Ravenclaws around me began twittering to one another excitedly; finally, my friend Maggie dared to address me.

“Did you do it?” Her hushed question brought silence to the rest of the group around us.

I smirked and took a sip of my pumpkin juice. “What d’you think?”

No one could be quite sure when Oliver and Y/N first began to clash.

Was it when they became the captains of their respective teams?

Was it after that match where they crashed midair and ended up with season-ending injuries?

Was it because of that time they were paired up for that unfortunate potions assignment where they managed to melt Oliver’s cauldron and blow off Y/N’s eyebrows?

Was it when Y/N bought the last cauldron cake on the Hogwarts Express from right under Oliver’s nose?

Was it because of the time Y/N cheered for Slytherin over Gryffindor in that one match? (Which, of course, Oliver took quite personally, despite fully knowing it was only because the match impacted Ravenclaw’s own fate in the House Cup that year.)

Or perhaps it was after a twelve-year-old Oliver Wood received an anonymous love letter, which he jeeringly read aloud to any second-year who would listen before Transfiguration class, not knowing its authoress was sitting only two rows behind him, ready to run to Ravenclaw tower as soon as class ended so she could cry her eyes out in peace.

Despite my tumultuous morning interaction with Oliver Wood, I found myself nearly skipping to Ancient Runes. It was strange; the subject was not one I particularly loved, but I looked forward to each and every class.

About a month ago, Professor Babbling came up with what she thought was a brilliant idea. Students were tasked with writing notes in runes, which were then delivered to the other class section for them to decipher and respond to in numbered mailboxes set up in the back of the classroom. It had been a silly assignment, with most students sending notes with mocking messages, or dirty limericks inspired by Peeves, or simply signed their names.

But the note I received intrigued me.

In the town where I was born

Lived a man who sailed to sea

And he told us of his life

In the land of submarines

I recognized the words immediately; my Muggle father had ensured that I had a wide knowledge of Beatles songs. With a giggle, I responded in kind:

I am the eggman

They are the eggman

I am the walrus

Goo goo g’joob

The next time I attended Ancient Runes, I was amused to find the note was written in plain English rather than the required runes (not that Professor Babbling was bothering to check).

You have good taste. What other bands do you like?

And so began a series of notes, back and forth, continuing long after everyone else had given up on their tomfoolery. The notes grew into letters, with the topics expanding from music to what we thought of the class to some of our most personal thoughts.

But neither of us knew the others’ name.

I knew the writer was a boy; we had shared that much. But other than that, my only other clue to his identity was that he was in the Ancient Runes Level 2 class (I was in Level 3), which was, unfortunately, a mix of houses and years. The only thing I could figure out was that he was at least in his fourth year since students had to be in at least their third year to start the Level 1 class.

Despite my friends’ incessant questioning, and my own curiosity, I had no intention of finding out my nameless friend’s identity. We had both agreed that the mystery of an anonymous pen pal was thrilling, and besides, there was a small, quiet part of me that was terrified to find out who my confidant was; what if he was nothing like the boy I was exchanging letters with? Or, even worse, what if I wasn’t what he expected?

No. It was better to keep things on parchment.

… right?

Making sure no one was watching, Oliver nonchalantly made his way over to the mailboxes in the back of the Ancient Runes classroom and stuck his hand into the familiar cubby. Lucky number 13. And there it was: a letter from his mysterious friend. He quietly tucked it into his textbook, knowing he’d spend more time wondering about its contents than actually paying attention to the day’s lecture.

As soon as Professor Babbling dismissed the Level 2 class, Oliver dashed out of the room and found a quiet seat in a deserted hallway where he could read the letter in peace.

Dear Friend, it started, as most of their letters did. Every year I reread the same book. Isn’t that kind of silly? But I can’t help it, it’s been my favorite since I was 12. Have you ever heard of a Muggle author named Jane Austen? She’s wonderful. Most boys I know don’t like her, but that’s only because they refuse to give any kind of romance a chance! She’s very clever and very witty, I promise. Her book Pride and Prejudice is my absolute favorite. The first time I read it I cried when… well, I won’t spoil it for you.

Oliver smiled as he read. Jane Austen? Pride and Prejudice? He didn’t really know what in the world his pen pal was talking about, but he didn’t care. He was learning something new about his anonymous friend. Something brought her joy, and he was determined to learn more about it.

During his free period, he made his way to the library. He wasn’t sure if the Hogwarts library carried Muggle books, but he was going to find out.

He quietly asked Madam Pince about the book in question, and she pointed the way to the collection of Muggle books she kept. Oliver hurried over, eager to find out what had his pen pal so excited. His golden eyes scanned the shelves until he found the book he needed.

Merlin, he thought as he picked up the thick novel. It’s gonna take me forever to finish this. He sighed. Might as well get started.

After checking out the book, he glanced the clock to see how much time he had before his next class. Seeing that he still had some time, Oliver hurried to find a good spot to begin the book. He had a particular favorite table, near the back of the library, where very few people ever went. It was peaceful, and quiet, and-

“Oh.”

Oliver ground to a halt when he saw Y/N sitting at his table, working on homework. She glanced up at the sound of his voice and raised an eyebrow at him in greeting.

“Wood.”

“L/N,” he answered, mirroring her flat voice, the most cordial tone either of them ever used with each other. At least it was better than their bi-weekly screaming matches in the Great Hall.

Her gaze was unwavering. “Need something?”

Oliver shifted. “Was looking for a place to read.”

Most people would have offered him a seat of their table

“Well, good luck with that.”

No invitation. Of course.

Her eyes floated to the book in his hands. “Doesn’t look like that one has many pictures.” She craned her neck to get a better view before Oliver could hide the title. “What d’you have there?” There was a look of vague interest in her eyes, something Oliver rarely saw, especially directed at himself.

“Not your business,” he replied shortly. He turned and briskly walked off, not bothering to pay attention to what direction he was going in. He didn’t even realize he had walked right out of the library until he was already in the hallway.

Sometimes, Oliver was shocked by how rude he could be to Y/N. But she knew exactly how to get under his skin, how to piss him off, how to fluster and frustrate him to no end. He knew that was hardly an excuse for his behavior, especially when he had younger Gryffindors watching him with admiration, but he hardly cared. Y/N was the absolute bane of his existence, and he would treat her as such.

“D’you think Oliver Wood’s smart?” The words slipped out of my mouth absently as I sat with Maggie in the Ravenclaw common room, scanning our notes for an upcoming Charms test.

Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Where did that come from?”

I shrugged. “Saw him in the library this afternoon. He was carrying a book, a pretty big one, and I started wondering if he’s as thick as I assumed he was.” The look on Maggie’s face confused me. “What?”

“Just a little surprised to hear you so interested,” she answered carefully, a smile playing on her lips. “You usually sound so angry whenever you say his name.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, he was an absolute prick when I saw him.” I scowled. “Wouldn’t even let me see what he was reading.”

Maggie smirked at me. “Probably because you would’ve taken the mickey out of him if he’d told you what it was. Honestly, I can’t blame him.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fact that she was completely right. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t know why I even brought it up.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Maggie answered, smirk still on her face.

Oliver triumphantly returned Pride and Prejudice to Madam Pince a week and a half later, who seemed a bit surprised by how quickly he had brought it back. He felt proud of himself; reading wasn’t something he often did for himself unless it involved quidditch, but he had actually enjoyed the book. Once he got past the funny way the characters spoke and the social norms of nearly 200 years ago, he found that the story was interesting, and the characters were as clever and heartwarming as his mysterious friend had promised.

He couldn’t wait to tell her.

Dear friend,

You were right. Lizzie and Darcy and all the rest of them were wonderful. I can see why a lot of guys would shy away from it, but Merlin it was good. Which part made you cry? I bet it was when Lizzie finds out Darcy broke up her sister and Bingley. Or was it when she and Darcy get together? I’ve never been much of a romantic, but I can see why girls think that Darcy fellow is a dream. I bet he was one of your first big crushes, wasn’t he?

Oliver felt himself blush as he reread his own words. He hated to admit it, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, but he was desperately in love with someone whose name he didn’t even know. But he couldn’t help himself; she knew him inside-out (well, inside at least) and made him feel safe and known in a way no one else ever did.

“What’re you smiling at?” Percy slid into the chair next to Oliver’s, pulling out some homework. His eyes fell on the parchment in Oliver’s hands. “Another love letter?”

Oliver rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Shove off,” he mumbled, pulling his writing close to his chest, out of Percy’s sight.

Percy smirked, enjoying seeing his usually confident friend waver with embarrassment. “Come on, why haven’t you asked her to meet yet?” He raised his eyebrows teasingly. “Scared it might be my brothers?”

“Yeah.” Sarcasm dripped from Oliver’s voice. “Fred and George devised a brilliant plan to get me to read Jane Austen.” He paused a moment. “Wait. That is something they wound do, isn’t it?” Panic spread over his face for a moment.

“Don’t worry,” Percy assured him with a laugh. “They’ve no idea who that is, so we can cross them off the list of suspects.” He tapped the table thoughtfully. “But honestly, Wood. I think it’s time. Unless you plan on keeping these secret letters going til you graduate and it’s too late to do anything?”

Oliver hesitated a moment. “Perce, can I be serious with you for a moment?” His roommate’s solemn nod gave him the go-ahead. He took a deep breath. “What is she doesn’t like me?” he half-whispered. “What if… what if we meet, and I’m not what she’s expecting?”

Percy stared at his roommate with a dumbfounded expression. “Are you daft?” he scoffed. “You’re Oliver-Bloody-Wood. Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team. And you look like that.” He gestured broadly at Oliver’s muscular figure. “Mate, she’ll practically faint when she sees it’s you,” he assured Oliver.

A silence passed between them as Oliver considered things. “You think… you really think it’s time?”

“No time like the present,” Percy confirmed with a shrug. “Carpe diem and all that.”

Oliver nodded absently. “Yeah. Yeah, carpe diem.”

My hands trembled with excitement as I pulled out the folded parchment from the little cubby I shared with my anonymous pen pal. Maggie and Penelope exchanged grins as they watched me shove the note into my bag. I shot the girls a wink as we took our seats. They were the only two who knew about my writing partner, and they loved to tease me about my “mystery man”, as they affectionately called him.

As always, class dragged on the way it tended to do when I had a fresh letter in my bag. The moment Professor Babbling dismissed us, I rushed out of the classroom, calling back to my friends that I’d meet them in Ravenclaw tower in time for dinner. Taking care to avoid anyone who would want to stop me for a chat, I found a seat outside, where I could enjoy the last bits of sun before it went down.

The letter quickly made its way out of my bag and into my hands, where I unfolded it and smoothed it out on my lap.

Dear friend,

You were right. Lizzie and Darcy and all the rest of them were wonderful….

A small giggle escaped my lips. He’d read the book! He’d put the effort in and found the book (which honestly, I didn’t even know Hogwarts had) and read it! Relief flooded my mind as I realized he’d actually liked it too.

I bet he was one of your first big crushes, wasn’t he?

Hmm. He wasn’t wrong; I would be lying if I said the words “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you” weren’t etched into my heart and soul. Before I could form a not-too-embarrassing response to his correct assumption, my eyes continued skimming down the letter. There, the final paragraph caused my breath to stop.

We should meet.

Simple. Straightforward. Not a question, a statement.

We should meet.

My hands began to shake. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t expecting this to happen eventually; I had even penned those words myself more than once before tossing the rejected drafts into the fireplace in the Ravenclaw common room. Of course I wanted to meet him. Of course I wanted to see the guy whose words occupied my every daydream.

I shoved the letter back into my bag and sprinted in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower. Maggie and Penelope would surely have the perfect advice for me; Penelope was always with Percy Weasley, and Maggie seemed to be running around with new boyfriend every month, so they would know exactly how I should respond.

My thoughts were interrupted by what felt like a brick wall crashing into me.

“Alright there?”

The concern on Oliver’s face disappeared as soon as he registered that it was me who’d crashed into him. It was replaced with a scowl.

“Honestly, Wood,” I mumbled, his appearance popping my joyful bubble. “Should watch where you’re going.”

“Where I’m going?” he huffed back. “Merlin, you sure know how to ruin a perfectly good day.” He shoved past me and continued down the hall. I couldn’t help but watch after him for a moment; it was so confusing to me that more than a couple girls watched him walk by with admiration on their faces.

Didn’t they know what an absolute jerk he was? Sure, he was a good-looking boy, even I could see that. But he was brash. And rude. And short-tempered. And Merlin, could the guy think of anything but quidditch and torturing me?

“-and he’s not even that good of a quidditch player,” I grumbled as Penelope and Maggie led me to the Ravenclaw table for dinner about fifteen minutes later. “Like he’s okay, but is he actually that good? I mean, Gryffindor hasn’t even won a House Cup since he became Captain!” My friends exchanged weary glances. “What?”

Penelope shrugged. “It’s just kind of funny how Oliver could make you totally forget that you have a letter to share with us,” she said carefully.

Maggie nodded in agreement. “He kind of occupies a huge space in your mind.”

“And maybe your heart?” Penelope giggled.

If my eyes rolled any further back, I’d probably be able to see my own brain. “Absolutely not. Listen, I may have had a small crush on him in second year-”

“You were absolutely in love with the boy,” Maggie corrected with a sentimental smile.

Penelope chuckled. “Remember how she used to sneak out to watch Gryffindor quidditch practice just to see him?”

“-but that was before I knew what an absolute tosser he was,” I finished, pretending my friends hadn’t said a word. “Anyways, you’re right, I do have more important things to worry about.” I pulled out the letter that I’d tucked into my pocket before dashing to join my friends for dinner. “He wants to meet,” I sighed. “He said if I agree, he’ll be at the Three Broomsticks on Saturday at 1.” I bit my lip anxiously. “I should do it, right?”

“Yes!” both girls chorused.

My heart eased at my friends’ enthusiasm. “Merlin, I can’t wait to meet him,” I admitted. “He’s so funny, and sweet, and guys, he actually read Pride and Prejudice after I told him it’s my favorite.” A giant sigh heaved from my chest. “He’s perfect.” My gaze landed across the Great Hall, on a pair of fiery golden eyes that met mine with aggravation. “Absolutely different than some other boys I could mention,” I added with a grumble.

Quickly, my attention turned back to my girlfriends, who helped me plan out my response so I could have it ready for our next Ancient Runes class.

“Did she answer?”

Percy slid onto the bench beside Oliver, peering at his friend with great interest. He waved at Penelope across the quad, where his girlfriend stood with Y/N, who, as usual, glowered when she caught sight of Oliver.

Ignoring Y/N for once, Oliver handed the letter to Percy with a flare. “She did.”

“Ah!” Percy quickly skimmed the letter. “So, Saturday at 1. She’ll have her copy of Pride and Prejudice with a belladonna tucked in it, eh?” He handed the parchment back to Oliver. “How romantic,” he teased.

Oliver shoved him good-naturedly. “Honestly Perce, even if she just wants to be friends, I’d be the happiest man on earth.” He shot his roommate a wide grin. “But Merlin, wouldn’t it be great if she’s just as mad about me?” He sighed and traced the letters on the note for the millionth time since he’d received it after class that afternoon. “She’s gonna be perfect,” he breathed gently. “I just know it.”

Part 2

#oliver wood #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oliver x reader #the shop around the corner #you've got mail

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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Don’t Read Pride and Prejudice Again (Try a Different Austen)

I have written promotions for the other novels, but no one needs encouragement to read P&P. So if the lessers must rise, the greatest must fall. So here is EVERYTHING WRONG with Pride & Prejudice. (To be clear, this is satire! I love P&P)

The proposal scenes are totally unbalanced. We get every single CRINGEWORTHY word of Mr. Collins’s terrible proposal, we get exactly one line of Darcy and then “he spoke well” but what did he SAY Miss Austen? Cruel authoress! and absolutely nothing from the cutest couple: Jane and Bingley. (Want the outpouring of the main character’s heart? Try Persuasion)

Too many coincidences! Unless Mr. Darcy is a Time Lord (love you, Doctor Who), there is no way he can always show up at exactly the right time. He arrives when Georgiana is about to elope, comes one day early so he can run into Elizabeth at Pemberley, and walks in THE VERY MOMENT when Elizabeth reads the letter from Jane about Wickham and Lydia. And I’m not even going to get into how very convenient it is that Elizabeth’s estranged cousin knows Darcy’s aunt. Try harder Jane Austen! (To read a book without coincidences, try Mansfield Park).

For a strong heroine, Elizabeth Bennet faces almost no real difficulties. Elinor Dashwood has to deal with her father’s death, but Mr. Bennet just goes on living. Fanny Price must stand strong after rejecting a proposal, but Elizabeth has her father and sister's support after rejecting Mr. Collins. Anne must wait 8 years to be reunited with her true love, Elizabeth waits like 5 weeks. Catherine Morland must travel alone all the way home and wait six months for Henry’s father to approve their marriagr, Elizabeth always travels accompanied and marries as soon as she wishes. Emma has to spend weeks convincing her father that marriage to Knightley is a good idea, Mr. Bennett consents before his daughter even talks to him. It’s easy to be strong when nothing bad ever happens to you, Elizabeth! (You want real strength, read Sense & Sensibility, Elinor is a paragon or Mansfield Park)

Darcy is the least likeable leading man in existence. He makes fun of the Bennets behind their backs, he’s arrogant, he’s snobby, he’s a know-it-all, and he thinks he has the right to make decisions about his friends’ love lives. He is so terrible at flirting that Elizabeth spends half of the book thinking that he hates her. Okay... even I can’t go this far when Rochester and Heathcliff exist. Let’s just say Darcy needs some serious work at the beginning. (If you want a really lovable leading man, try Northanger Abbey. Henry Tilney forever!)

Pride & Prejudice is not long or conclusive enough! I need far more pride and extended prejudice. Why can we not learn the fates of Georgiana, Kitty, and Mary? Why only two measly weddings at the end of the book? I know Jane Austen is capable of three! (For a longer book that leaves every single eligible character married, try Emma)

Good heroines are passe, anti-heroines is where it's really at! Elizabeth Bennet being nice and good is boring. (Try Lady Susan for delicious evil)

Pride & Prejudice, not as good as you thought!

Don’t forget Emma, Northanger Abbey, Mansfield Park, Sense & Sensibility, Persuasion, and even Lady Susan.

#jane austen #pride and prejudice #mansfield park #sense and sensibility #northanger abbey #emma #persuasion #lady susan #remember this is a joke #dont flame me #i love P&P #elizabeth bennet

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megumitski · 3 years

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hi hi this is just something to track all the hq fics i’ve read recently! this really seemed like a lot when i was putting this together but most of them are less than 15k. this has a LOT of kagehina, plus some kuroken, bokuaka, iwaoi, tsukiyama, and a few other random pairings. favorites are marked with a ✨!

KAGEHINA

✨ his weight in marigolds - karasuno013 (11k)

Tobio imagined that the petals were soft, orange, perpetually messy locks of hair, and his fist clenched around the bud involuntarily.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Please Kiss Him Instead! - Bird_Of_Dreams (6k)

Recently, Kageyama has been receiving what appears to be countless confession letters. The Karasuno volleyball team reacts appropriately with surprise, jealousy, and bemusement (depending on who you ask). But no one is more surprised than Hinata, who is confused and more than a little hurt that Kageyama never told him about them. But is that the real reason behind his conflicted feelings?

As It Should Be - gghostnebula (7k)

Based on a request I saw on Tumblr that someone send fanfics where "Hinata is bullied without the team knowing and then they find out." I like the idea of everyone (including Tsukishima) enraged and vengeful. So I. Did that. I'm so sorry. I'm also really really sorry that the 'ungrateful second-years' aren't really in this because I wanted them to be but I couldn't find a good place for them, since this focuses so much on just Kageyama and Hinata.

Five Plus One - Xachyn (1k)

Five times other people thought they were dating and one time Kageyama wondered if they were.

The Crown and The Crow - Yuu_chi (9k)

Somewhere out there is your forever one wearing your Mark on their skin; it's just a matter of finding them.

✨ In Transit - Mysecretfanmoments (5k)

Hinata finds that he likes standing close to Kageyama on buses and trains. It doesn't mean anything--probably. Maybe.

four times hinata and kageyama almost kiss (and one time they do) - spaceburgers (2k)

When it happens, it’s not romantic. Things between them have never been romantic, after all. They’re too stupid for that.

spoiled - buu (2k)

It's the Kageyama that gently takes Hinata's hand when they're walking together, or rests his head on the top of Hinata's when they're watching TV, or pulls Hinata into his lap when he complains about being cold. Hinata struggles at first, confused and thinking Kageyama's making fun of him or something, but he slowly starts to realize that, beyond all belief, Kageyama is the Doting type.

Thaw - peppermint_wind (40k)

Kageyama Tobio just wants to get through the day. He hates winter, he hates most people, and he really hates getting up for an 8:00AM class. That's when Hinata Shouyou, bright and obnoxious, literally comes running into his life at full-throttle and changes everything Kageyama thought he knew.

Basically, the College AU where Hinata and Kageyama meet by Hinata literally knocking into him and spilling hot coffee all down Kageyama's clothes.

touch - buu (3k)

Hinata doesn't notice it at first, really. It's small things, natural things, like when they sit together at lunch and Hinata ends up hooking his ankle over Kageyama's and he doesn't move away; in fact, he seems to not notice it, and go on eating his lunch like nothing's different.

✨ Routine - someonestolemyshoes (29k)

Kageyama Tobio has a routine. Up, shower, dress, breakfast, classes, practice, work, dinner, laptop, show time. Hinata is a well-known cam boy, and Kageyama is his biggest fan.

✨ Acceptable Risk - Mysecretfanmoments (46k)

Tobio braced himself and stood, gathering Hinata’s warm body close. Hinata’s weight settled against him, strengthening the impression he always had at these times: that he was collecting a part of himself, severed by some weird circumstance. In these moments he couldn’t help feeling that Hinata belonged to him, and as long as he didn’t talk about the impression out loud it harmed no one. As it was Hinata mumbled a little, curling into him the way he’d anticipated.

(Kageyama and Hinata navigate living together at university while not dating. It's hard—the not-dating part, that is.)

hot - buu (6k)

Hinata should not be this hot. Kageyama shouldn't find his short stature attractive, shouldn't have problems with his eyes lingering a little too long on Hinata's smaller frame, the way his shirts hang just a little too big on him sometimes.

Oh God - orphan_account (6k)

No, class distinction had never held much meaning for Kageyama. Until the day he met Hinata. One-shot Omegaverse! AU. Smut is heavily present within this story. Mostly PWP, but there's plot, if you squint.

operation: find out if hinata has a hot bod - day (2k)

Kiyoko compliments Hinata's body. It turns into a chaotic mess where the team (aka Tanaka and Nishinoya) tries everything in their power to get a glimpse of Hinata shirtless.

Hinata is oblivious and Kageyama is stressed out.

well, maybe i’m a crook - aruariandance (7k)

The thing is-- Hinata is in love with Kageyama and everyone knows it, including Kageyama.

5 times Kageyama purred + 1 time he didn’t - orphan_account (3k)

No one at Karasuno had ever heard Kageyama purr, but that was normal. He wasn't exactly the most expressive on the team, and no one really minded.

Hurt - someonestolemyshoes (27k)

It’s alarming, Kageyama thinks, how quickly things can go downhill.

One minute Hinata is fine, at the top of his game, spiking left and right and everywhere in between and the next he is crumpled in a limp, lifeless heap on the gym floor and the resounding crack of his head hitting the wood is still echoing in Kageyama’s ears.

knock knock - writedeku (6k)

“I don’t need telepathy to win,” is the first thing he says; nearly shouts it, to be precise. “We can play it without me being linked.”

One by one, the teambonding practises stop as they all turn to Kageyama to gape. Play volleyball without telepathy? It’s not that it’s not possible, but that would put them at such a major disadvantage it’d be like having a team full of one-sided Kageyamas.

the hedgehog’s dilemma - drunkonwritting (17k)

So when he comes to Karasuno, Tobio expects more of the same. He won't make the same mistakes again, but he doubts anyone on the team will like him—Tobio's grown used to his solitary existence, to the point where he can't imagine what it's like to have people around all the time, people who actually want to spend time with him outside of school or practice. He's resigned himself to being alone, because no one in his life has ever decided they want to get to know him or spend time with him or even like him as more than a casual acquaintance. Tobio's tried time and time again to change that and failed over and over—he doubts it's going to change anytime soon.

But when he sees that orange-haired shrimp staring at him from the gym doors, eyes wide and betrayed, he feels a vague sense of premonition.

Don’t Make Me Walk When I Want to Fly - MissKiraBlue (24k)

"I don't want to leave without an apology"

After Hinata rushed from their fight he ended up in a car accident.

But when he wakes up he's not dead and he's not in a hospital either.

Hinata has to live the same day – the day when he and Kageyama fought – over and over again until he finds a solution where he could get out of the time loop.

he may suck at beer pong but he slam dunked my heart - Authoress (9k)

After a while, Kageyama kind of just...forgets how angry the floral snapback makes him. It becomes a companion, almost. It's seen him through many a late library study session, through feeding planaria and wrestling bean beetles into petri dishes. He feels something close to affection for the ever-present hat.

Oh no, Kageyama thinks. I'm attracted to a douchebag.

(The AU where struggling college student Kageyama meets and very unfortunately falls in love with his frat boy lab partner, Hinata.)

room to grow - Mysecretfanmoments (6k)

Third year Kageyama is considerate, careful, doesn't grab Hinata's hair. Hinata's still trying to figure out how he feels about it.

Dare - majesticartax (10k)

“W-wait! Kageyama! What—hold on!” Hinata cries, kicking his legs, flipping around in his setter's strong arms and struggling uselessly, scrambling.

“Can’t we talk about this!?”

Wish You Would - longleggedgit (7k)

The title of this document was just jealouskageyama.docx so that pretty much tells you what to expect.

"If you don't want me to go out with him," Hinata says, lifting his eyes to meet Kageyama's, "then give me a reason not to."

Right Here All The Time - longleggedgit (5k)

"You were flirting," Kageyama says, sounding bewildered, almost accusatory. His chest is heaving under Hinata's hands.

Hinata laughs. "Yeah, and it worked."

Immolate - Marks (2k)

Kageyama balls his hands into fists at his sides and grits his teeth as want builds up in his stomach and sets up camp. It's not the first time he's felt like this around Hinata, but it's the worst every time and he wishes he could just will it away.

come on closer - skeletalparade (6k)

Kageyama shifted uncomfortably on the bench, fingernails scraping against the plastic of his water bottle. He was trying so hard not to stare at Hinata, but it was difficult. Hinata was a good vice captain, but he was ruining Kageyama’s life.

2-Player Mode - medea_azyungele (5k)

Are you ugly or something?" Hinata asks, with his usual lack of tact.

"Oi, dumbass! I'll let you know that-" but he couldn't finish because Hinata interrupts him: "Let's turn on the webcams!"

Suddenly, a square icon pops up in a corner of his monitor.

Oh no he's hot.

I like the way your clothes smell - Mysecretfanmoments (75k)

Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.

a first time for everything - Mysecretfanmoments (4k)

He rolls away from Shouyou, his breathing just a little fast. His body has been weird today, more like when they first started dating. It happens sometimes—mostly when they’ve been on the court together, or they haven’t had time alone—but it feels just a bit different than usual.

((Kageyama bottoms for the first time. established relationship, iltwycs-verse but can stand alone.))

✨ Color Theory - kageyamz (41k)

That’s right, he thinks I’m straight. Kageyama sighed in relief at the answer then tensed up, the gears turning in his brain. Wait, I am straight, right? Kageyama wants a simple time at university, but life has other plans for him.

cheater, cheater (pumpkin eater) - teddy_or_something (7k)

Closets hold many things, one of which being skeletons. In Hinata's case, there was a person where there should've been a vibrator, and that was definitely enough to wilt his erection.

Song fic to Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by P!ATD.

✨ change in pressure - viscreal (37k)

Kageyama couldn’t for the life of him guess what he’d been doing to get so goddamn beat up, but it was there, and the guy wasn’t even taking care of any of it. The pain was making it hard to concentrate during class, making it hard to think at all, and that plus the boy’s overenthusiastic emotions were putting Kageyama in a particularly sour mood, so he really couldn’t be blamed when he snapped something sarcastic at the teacher and got detention in response.

alternatively titled: in which kageyama, an empath whos still just as socially inept as ever, ends up having a gay crisis because hinata cant stop getting hurt.

seventy-thirty - viscreal (4k)

Hinata was the first one to bring it up.

KUROKEN

reddit boyfriends - NeverNothing (4k)

Lev goes on reddit to talk about his senpais and accidentally goes viral. Yaku helps.

✨ you’re the break lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) - ghostpot (15k)

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

✨ the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) - cosmogony (31k)

Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives

✨ Best Friends - Mysecretfanmoments (6k)

Every evening they walk home together, Kuro smelling of salt and suntan lotion, Kenma’s hands sore from scooping ice cream all day, and it feels nice. Peaceful.

He’s glad Kuro came, after all.

((During the two weeks he spends manning his uncle's ice cream booth on the coast, Kenma decides that maybe he likes his best friend back, after all))

BOKUAKA

tea-stained polaroids - dalyeau (6k)

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

cookies and cream - norio (6k)

Some people might tell Akaashi that he couldn't bake his worries away.

But some people haven't dated Bokuto Koutarou.

Komorebi - OwlBeDamned (8k)

When his thirteenth birthday comes, Akaashi should be elated.

Instead, he is worried.

"WWOOOAH, YOU HAVE GOT THE MOST BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEING I HAVE EVER SEEN - NO, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEING THE WORLD HAS EVER BEEN BLESSED WITH...CAN I TOUCH YOU?!"

✨ Upstairs - yoogiboobi (16k)

For about a second, a heartbeat, he's met with a pair of dark, piercing eyes, with what is probably eyeliner, looking back at him. It really is just a split second before his hand knocks down three cereal boxes that hit him square in the head, effectively making him break eye contact and drop his groceries to the floor.

In which some of the first things Bokuto learns about his upstairs neighbour are the colour of his eyes and the sound of his moans.

steam - orphan_account (8k)

bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

heavy heart, a love apart - drifloon (7k)

(802): Our sex has gotten so much better since we broke up.

IWAOI

✨ It’s Tradition - MelissaWritesStuff (4k)

Every year, without fail, on Oikawa's birthday, Oikawa has somehow gotten a kiss out of Iwaizumi.

lips like sugar - ohhotlamb (8k)

Hajime is offered to learn the art of kissing from a true professional, one Oikawa Tooru. It's not as bad as he thought it would be.

darlin’, your head’s not right - aruariandance (14k)

'“Our wedding,” Oikawa says by way of explanation, tapping his finger against his magazine more emphatically. “What colors should we use? Color scheme is important, apparently.”

Iwaizumi feels his lifespan shortening.

or,

Oikawa teases Iwaizumi about a childhood promise he made to marry him when they were older, except suddenly it's not really a joke at all.

✨ Bet On It - originalblue (13k)

Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week.

Something Borrowed - rageprufrock (16k)

In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

The PDA jar - orphan_account (10k)

“What is that thing for?”

“I’m glad you asked, captain. This… is the Public Display of Affection jar. Or PDA jar for short.”

“Now whenever you do something that may hurt our children’s innocence, you’ll have to put money in the jar as a punishment."

✨ stumble into the sun - sunsmasher (4k)

“So,” Hajime says, as he peels off his uniform shirt, letting it fall on top of his gym bag. “Have you guys ever heard of like, someone being turned on by people saying nice things to them?”

Matsukawa slams his locker shut. “Oh my god,” he says.

by chance - crossbelladonna (62k)

When Iwaizumi Hajime meets Oikawa Tooru, suddenly everything bursts into color. The only problem is that for the other, it doesnt seem to happen the same way.

the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate au

TSUKKIYAMA

by any other name - parenthetic (5k)

A Concise Guide to Dealing with People Asking if your Best Friend and/or Crush is Single:

Panic Lie Run

Do you see what I see? - honeydragon (1k)

Three times Tsukishima wonders what colour Yamaguchi's eyes are, and the one time he finds out.

The Great Yamaguchi-Tsukishima Split (Capitalization Necessary) - WyYeuw (2k)

"But no, the current situation isn’t normal. This situation requires the full attention of the team. No, what’s really concerning this time around, is that Yamaguchi is the one ignoring Tsukishima.” Yamaguchi confesses. Tsukishima fucks up—like, really fucks up. The volleyball club notices and loses a week’s worth of practice.

Baby, this is how it all goes down - psych0tastic (7k)

In the midst of revising for a class test over at Yamaguchi’s place one night, Tsukki suddenly spoke up and said, “I'd like to bottom the next time we have sex."

OTHER

Rewards Program - surveycorpsjean (8k) - bokuroaka

Akaashi enjoys his normal life, as a normal grocery checker, at a normal grocery store.

Of course, it all goes up in flames when two hot as hell college kids dump their items on the conveyor belt.

Donuts. Glue. Donut holes.

And that's only the beginning.

Edelweiss - ostentatiouslyrealistic (6k) - semi/tendou

Hanahaki Disease (n.) An illness bred from unrequited love, where the victim suffers from coughing up flower petals.

Sympathy From a Lost Boy - meraki_drabbles (11k) - ushiten

The figure was hollow-cheeked and gauntly, with prominent eyelids bulging out under thin raised eyebrows, casting a shadow over irises that Wakatoshi couldn't decide the colour of, but rather processed them as a strange mix of crimson and ruby and scarlet dripped against a mahogany canvas.

"Sorry, am I intruding?

#hq fic rec #fic rec #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fic rec #bokuaka #kagehina #kuroken #iwaoi #tsukiyama

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