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writerblue275 · 5 months

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(Best)FWB!Ezreal Headcanons (18+)

Inspiration: This was one of the of ideas that got me to start this account lol. I’m also in the process of writing a fic based on this idea and it would be so much easier to just reference this post in the header rather than explain everything in the prose.

Champion: Ezreal (like Pilty!Ezreal/Explorer!Ezreal)

Genre: Headcanon

Category: TINIEST amount of angst but primarily FLUFF and SMUT - I mean what were you expecting. We're talking about best friends with benefits here. Typically the benefits are of an adult nature. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Length: This is a looooong one, friends. In my defense, I'm using this headcanon as world-building/background information for at least 1 future fic (It's quickly turning into multiple parts lmao).

Gender: Fem!Reader/reader who is fem presenting? Ahhhh even my non-binary ass doesn't know how to describe this...mention of dresses and stuff.

TW: Adult themes. Friends with benefits, reference to adult activities and kinks. For example: semi-public petting or Dom/sub dynamics. Slight mention of what (probably) happened to his parents and the emotional fallout of that. Mention of alcohol (always drink responsibly y’all). Swearing (as per usual).

Important context: I know game Ez’s age is a bit debated, though generally agreed on somewhere in early to early-mid-20s. For adult Ez in this, let’s say he’s like 23-24? Also Indiana Jones exists in this universe because DAMNIT I WANT TO CALL HIM INDIANA JONES AS A NICKNAME.

SFW

Your father is a history professor at the academy who knows/works with Ezreal’s uncle, Professor Lymere, and who often collaborated with Ez’s parents before they disappeared. Archeology and history go hand-in-hand, after all.

These collaborations led to you and Ezreal being together often as kids since you were around the same age, and a close friendship developed.

To the point of casual physical affection (hugs, hand holding, occasional cuddles) and silly nicknames for each other. He calls you princess, you call him…idiot mostly. (Jk…kinda.) You’ve called him Indiana Jones for forever since he was just as fascinated about archeology/artifacts as his parents.

You have called him an idiot many times though, especially when he’s been extremely rash and reckless.

At various points in your friendship, people have seen the two of you and assumed you had to be dating. It’s hysterical to both of you.

“Me dating Ezreal?! Nah, he’s just my best friend.”

“(Y/N)?? Absolutely not. We’re just best friends.”

You’re one of the few people who can humble Ezreal, a specialty of yours since early on in your friendship.

You: *In your father’s office studying while he teaches a lecture to one of his classes in a nearby lecture hall*

Ez: *Runs into the office, breathlessly laughing as he leans against the now closed door, holding a toupee*

You: *Eyebrows raise* Whatcha got there, Ez?

Ez: *grins* One of the campus warden’s toupees!

You: *Stares at him for a second and sighs* You’re a moron….*goes back to studying*

After his parents’ disappearance, you were understandably worried for Ezreal. You watched as your best friend struggled through the stages of grief, and even worse, stalled before he could get to the acceptance stage of what most likely happened.

You were always there to listen when he needed an ear. Even more importantly you tried to serve as a voice of reason once Ez started planning his own expedition to find the final resting place of Ne’Zuk.

You never said anything to completely dissuade him, because you wanted him to follow his heart and his dreams, but you couldn’t help but worry. With what likely happened to his parents, you were utterly terrified he wouldn’t come back, especially considering his stubbornness, his recklessness, and his age. Losing your best friend was a thought you just couldn’t stomach.

Only you knew about his plan to sneak onto a supply ship bound for Nashramae. You sent him off in the middle of the night with a giant hug and a “Be safe, Indiana Jones. You better come back alive…Write when you can…”

After a second he pulled back from the hug, gave you a signature Ez smirk, and said, “You know me well enough to know I’ll be fine, princess…”

Once he did set off, you had to convincingly act as though you didn’t know where he went. It was difficult, especially seeing how distraught his uncle was once he read Ez’s note, but your loyalty was to your friend.

It was torment waiting for any sort of news. Ez wasn’t exactly going to the most populated areas.

Thankfully, he did eventually return, excited to show off his new gauntlet, using it often to flash behind you and scare you.

“Ez, I swear if you keep scaring me, I cannot be held responsible for any damage to your stupid handsome face.”

*Smirk* “Handsome eh?”

“…Shut up…f-forget I said anything…the last thing you need is an inflated ego.”

But he didn’t forget.

Over the years as he gained notoriety and fame from his adventures, you were one of the few people who didn’t treat him any differently from how you had in the past.

As much as his ego craved the validation and fame, hoping they’d be enough to draw his parents back (god damn this man needs HELLA therapy), having someone who just treated him as Ezreal, not as the prodigal explorer, was really nice…

Once he was a little older, when he started getting invites to parties and banquets to talk about his adventures, you became his go-to date.

As he told you, “It’s just easier than dealing with the rabid fans. Also you’re good-looking, and I need someone with me that helps make me look good.”

That earned him a sarcastic eye roll and “Thanks, I guess?” from you.

With the fame and scale of his adventures, Ez collected a decent amount of wealth on top of what his family already had. As thanks for being his go-to plus-one, he’d always take care of the cost of your clothes and accessories for these events, sometimes even buying outfits for you himself; things that he thought would look good on you. He has shockingly good taste and understands your sense of style very well. (SUGAR DADDY FRIEND EZ, ANYONE?)

It was about a year and a half ago that things in your friendship changed. He’d been gone almost 3-months chasing a particularly legendary relic rumored to be surrounded by an incredible number of traps that were said to be impassable.

“Impassable” is Ez’s specialty, as you know.

Of course, his exuberant return made him a popular invite to all the parties. Everyone wanted to hear the tales of Piltover’s prodigal explorer.

You were just fucking relieved to have your best friend home, alive, and in one piece.

NSFW

It was after one of these fancy parties when things popped off. There’d been an open bar during the dancing portion of the evening. Both of you were tipsy. Both of you were giggly. Ez gave you a piggy back ride home since you decided to kick off your incredibly uncomfortable heels the second you stepped outside. (What a gentleman.)

Once you arrived at your apartment, you invited him to stay the night as he always did since it was so late. Of course he agreed, grabbing the extra set of comfy clothes he stashed there for such situations and going to change while you prepared the couch for your usual post-event chats, setting up, pillows, blankets, snacks, and water.

As he came out of the hallway to the living room where you were, you could feel his gaze glued to you as you bent down to prep some things*

You: *blushing a little and not looking up at him* “Yes?”

Ez: *smirks* I thought that dress would look incredible on you, and I was right….you look even sexier than usual…

You looked up at him with wide eyes, your cheeks DEFINITELY pinker as your mind took a second to register what he said* “You thought about how I’d look in this? W-wait…you think I’m sexy?”

He just grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Of course I did and of course I do. I’ve told you before that you’re good looking. Do you remember when you accidentally blurted out that I was handsome? Do you still think I am?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your curiosity about the direction of this conversation that had you saying, “Yes I do. I’ve thought that for a long time. But, I don’t understand why that matters? You’re my best friend, Ezreal, and to be honest, dating you sounds like a nightmare. I already worry enough about you when you’re on your expeditions. Adding deeper feelings into that sounds like a one-way express ticket to driving myself insane.”

Ez chuckled, “Who said anything about dating or deeper feelings? Feelings are the last thing I need in my life (again THERAPY, MY GUY). But, the way I see it, I’m physically attracted to you, you’re physically attracted to me, neither of us want feelings involved beyond what our friendship is now….that sounds like an arrangement that is mutually beneficial…”

You straightened up and folded your arms together as you contemplate his words. “So like a…friends with benefits sort of thing?”

Ez grinned. “More like best friends with benefits, but yes. I have needs. I’m assuming based on the fact that you’re currently not seeing anyone either that you also have needs. We’ve helped each other out with problems many times….why not help each other with this one?”

Ok, but why was he making so much sense??

He was also right. You’d been going through a hell of a dry spell as of late. And hey, when it comes to people, you trust Ezreal more than anyone else. You’d also be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him extremely attractive. All of these reasons pinged around your mind until finally…

“Yes…ok…yes….tonight can serve as a test of sorts…but I’m not finalizing anything until tomorrow morning when both of us are stone cold sober. I have conditions, but they don’t apply at the moment. Got it?”

His response was an frantic nod and an eager “Got it,” as he stepped closer and reached for your waist to pull you to him.

Your response was to turn around and move your hair to the side. “Ah ah ah. First help me with my zipper…then show me what you can do, pretty boy…”

And BOY DID HE. Quite honestly he blew your mind (and your back out 😉). But we’ll get to that later on.

The important conversation happened the next morning after you two woke up tangled with each other.

Ez sat up and stretched, and you couldn’t help it as you sleepily reached over and gently ran your fingers along his abs.

He gave you a sleepy smirk and eyebrow raise before murmuring, “Already want another round, princess?”

This resulted in you pinching him before you also pulled yourself up, not even caring that he was baldly admiring you as you stretched. “I tentatively agree to this arrangement, Ez, but I want to talk about limits/conditions. Let’s talk as we get breakfast ready…”

Your conditions: 1. While this arrangement is in place, he’s not sleeping with anyone else and that includes on expeditions. You don’t want the chance for any sort of disease. 2. If either of you falls for another person, the arrangement needs to end (obviously you two would talk about it so the other knows what’s going on). 3. This can’t fuck up your friendship. Even if things physically end, your friendship needs to remain intact. You don’t want to lose your best friend. 4. No falling in love with each other.

Ez easily agreed to your terms and laid out his own: 1. He’ll see you when he gets home from expeditions and while he’s in Piltover. 2. If he’s not sleeping with anyone else, he hopes you won’t either. 3. He wants you to take care of yourself mentally (a bit ironic), physically, and emotionally, especially while he’s gone. (He won’t admit it, but when he’s on his explorations, he thinks/worries about you often and wonders if you’re doing alright.) 4. He wants to continue to buy you gifts and clothes, and he also wants to start including lingerie in said gifts if you tell him your sizes and style preferences.

The last one surprised you. “Lingerie? Why? That seems pretty intimate for fuck buddies. I certainly don’t expect such gifts from you.”

He was unfazed, instead just grinning and chuckling at the surprise on your face. “Believe it or not, it’s almost more for me than you. Undressing you will be like unwrapping my own present.”

Strangely enough you couldn’t find any fault with that logic.

You agreed to all his terms, and the two of you did a little hand shake to finalize things. A strangely small gesture to seal a massive change in your friendship.

(*Clears throat*) And now for the important part…

Definitely NSFW - AKA How is Ez as a FWB?

With an ego like his, you might think Ez is a selfish lover.

And you know what, maybe to start he is, but you shut that shit down IMMEDIATELY. Remember, you’re one of the only ones who can humble this man.

Once you make it clear that this arrangement will not be one-sided in pleasure if he wants it to continue, he makes sure to act RIGHT.

Like he really makes sure to blow your back out every single time (hell yeah go you).

A large part of his initial “selfishness” is hesitance. You two have known each other forever, but certainly not in this way. You telling him off? Honestly it reminds him that this is still you, his best friend, who he knows better than just about anyone. He is just learning about another side of you.

That is a confidence boost to him and banishes any insecurities he has.

(Unlike Heartsteel Ez who I see very primarily as a sub) Ez is a true switch maybe even leaning a little dom.

Whatever you need him to be, he can be.

Ezreal can be VERY PLAYFUL. Your normal friendship is filled with laughter and teasing, and your friendship in the bedroom is no different.

That doesn’t mean he can’t be serious though, he absolutely can be.

He’s the extremely teasing type, expertly working you up with just a couple touches in public or private and then making you wait.

For example, at those fancy dinners you go to with him? If anyone bothers to look under the tablecloth they'll see his hand on you, thumb tracing shapes into the fabric of your dress high up on your thigh, while he casually recounts the harrowing details of his adventures.

There you are, just sitting there trying to keep a straight face and not blush. He does it often enough you think you’d be used to it by now but NOPE.

You’re really glad no one expects you to tell any stories at those things because every time his hand creeps onto your thigh, your brain short circuits a little bit. Trying to tell a story or hold more than a passing conversation would be incredibly difficult.

And he KNOWS IT TOO. Once he’s not speaking, he always looks over at you and gives you a little smirk.

And if you do the same to him when he’s not telling stories? He will not stop leaning over and softly complaining in your ear.

You take great pleasure in whispering in his ear, “Can’t handle what you dish out? This is what you get, you teasing fuck.” (Or something similar lol.) Then you pass everything off as normal with a very quick, friendly, and casual kiss on the cheek which makes HIS brain short circuit a little bit.

Very touchy and LOUD in bed, especially when you’re on top. To the point you have had to cover his mouth with your hand and threaten to STOP riding him if he doesn’t get himself together and be quieter. He knows damn well how thin apartment walls in Piltover are.

Eventually you just gag him with something, because let’s be honest, it’s an empty threat. You definitely DON’T want to stop and he’s well aware of that.

When he’s on top though, Ez intentionally will do things that cause your sounds to get louder, making no attempts to quiet you. Instead he just smirks down at you and whispers in your ear, “Is that all you’ve got, princess? I know you can get louder than that…don’t hold back for me…”

Don’t be afraid to mark him. Feeling your nails dig into his shoulders/back or feeling you mark his collarbone with hickeys drives him absolutely wild.

Very very VERY good at dirty talk. His wit and sass translate extremely well to more intimate contexts. And when you dirty talk right back at him? He loves it when you’re just as playful as he is. His favorite is when you murmur something filthy in his ear and follow it up with a playful little nip somewhere.

Loves tying you up and loves being tied up, as well as using blindfolds.

Not the most attentive with aftercare, but hey, your arrangement isn’t romantic so you don’t mind. He at least stays the night/for breakfast and cuddles you which is honestly more than you thought he’d do.

It might be a bit inconsistent concerning WHEN you see Ezreal since who knows when he’ll come back from his expeditions, but whenever he is in Piltover, the two of you certainly have a good time. Besides, it’s good to know your best friend is home safe…at least until he sets off on another adventure.

Thank you for reading!! Omg I had so much fun with this one. And I’m already enjoying writing the associated fic. It was literally just supposed to be a one-shot and now there’s absolutely going to be multiple parts, so keep an eye out for that!

#ezreal #ezreal x reader #Ezreal headcanon #Ezreal headcanons #Ezreal smut #league of legends headcanon #reader insert #headcanon #smut #league of legends

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carefulfears · 11 months

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24, 25, 26, 27

(x-files themed asks) headcanons edition!

24/ list some college MSR headcanons!

i just know that mulder in college was like...somehow kinda a WASP-y square but a riot at the same time. i just know him and phoebe were writing the most melodramatic prose to each other. we already established that he was fucking on graves. i think he got his ear pierced, i believe this. he was a good student, top of his class, and focused. albeit "in over his head," in his words.

dana, dana, dana...what can't she do. she's a medical doctor with a degree in physics. she rewrote einstein as an undergrad. i feel like she was in every club imaginable. missy said she should join a sorority, but she didn't want to distract herself. she smoked. she's a teacher's pet but a bit lonely.

25/ list some season 1 MSR headcanons

scully called her little friends about her "cute" coworker all the time. on road trips, she would get to pick the music, but mostly she'd rather listen to him talk. they went to the liberty bell (and to the empire state building, and everywhere that they had never been).

26/ list some season 7 MSR headcanons

season 7 MSR to me is exactly like the song "playground" by alison sudol. like exactly. like that entire vibe is season 7 MSR. listen to it and feel the energy.

All the windows open and your legs around me We were one time strangers, now we’re trying to make a baby Oh my heart’s over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance Oh I can’t stop laughing, I don’t know if I can stand it

cuz i likeeee you sooo well <33

i think they spent all of their time together in s7, finding excuses to sneak across motel rooms. establishing rules, then breaking them. they were happy. basking in each other.

27/ list some season 9 MSR headcanons

i know this to be true for a fact that dana scully, who squeezed her baby when she thought mulder was dead and sang him silly songs that remind her of his dad and dressed him in space-themed onesies, was doing all she could to feel like mulder was close and involved. she rocked the baby by the fish tank. she took photos of everything and made mulder books. she played old videos and voicemails to fill the house with his voice.

#asks #i'm not good at headcanons but these are my Feelings #yes my inbox is a disaster and i'm still working on these #but i'm not apologizing for that bc i love hearing from y'all and i will get to it all when i get to it #MWAH #it's hard to have headcanons for s1 because ITS ALL CANON\#everything you could imagine them doing in that sweet first year they definitely did

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charliesinfern0 · 2 years

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I was trying so hard not to think abt this bc I’m not even in the writing stage of act 3, LET ALONE ACT 5 (1-2), but. whatevver

so I have talked a bit about pagerose, abt how they sort of parallel each other in colors and classpects, and I think they are the biggest nerds together, Page is easily impressed by anything sounding prose-y and intricate, but also knows when Rose is talking out of her ass. Rose is endeared and also kind of freaked out at how earnest Page is. theyre the prophet gfs <3

pagedave is peak 2009 tween internet romance. I think they are so cute together, Page is so unironic about everything, Dave is neck deep in irony, she’s gonna pull him out so help her dave please just learn how to enjoy things with your whole heart. they’re just cute together :)

pagetav and gampage and gamtav are all real 👍 tav is page’s patron troll, page and gamzee have the connection of both being rage players, they were kind of the first relationships I had in mind, but now it is VERY up in the air bc. im not even done with act 1

pagekat is REAL and they are BEAUTIFUL <3 they are sooo pitch but then karkat feels sooo flushed for her it’s not even funny. page is so tired of him being a self hating little crabby guy, she’s gonna make fun of him while also trying to help him out, karkat wants to knock her off the pedestal she’s seemingly put herself on while also trying to show her how self destructive she’s being (ALSO karkat c3< dave/jade c3< page are real bc I think it would be funny)

(also they aren’t in any quadrant but I think page and jake would be best friends idk why)

also WYLLIN AND RENNOA I’m going to talk about them.

wylkat WAS going to be canon. keyword was. now I think they’re just really good best friends :) but I still think they’d be good together in any quadrant <3

pitch eriwyl is sooo real actually I think they are so funny together. two silly guys <3 (but maybe wyllin pities him too much to commit…)

kanwyl I think is very beautiful bc they are both vampires (rainbow drinker, thief of blood). love the blood high 👍

renkri I think would be very funny. they’re the embodiment of those videos where someone is saying something extremely wrong or annoying and then another person cuts in and plays really loud music over them. also I have diluted myself into thinking seers and sylphs are similar, so yeah. a seer and a sylph of blood who are not good at their jobs at all

porren is also very cool I think, I think rennoa would be obsessed about porrim having drank her blood, makes her feel some way

and yeah. all of these are canon btw <3

#or whichever ones you like are canon #until some of these become canon #but whatever canon’s a very abstract term at this point

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hatake-no-sharingan · 3 years

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A Well Loved Copy (PART 2: Pieces of you)

Kakashi x Reader

Story Summary: Your cozy life as a bookseller is disturbed when a box of the worst books you could ever imagine arrives at your store, and with them a certain silver haired ninja to whom you are definitely not attracted.

Chapter 1: CLICK HERE

Chapter summary: You give into Kakashi’s book. As you start to read, you realize the book he left you has more than one story to tell. It reveals many things about this wonderful stranger who visited your shop a few days ago.

Relationship: Kakashi x Reader

Warnings: None (it has a bit of mature references, but it’s not very graphic, just be careful and read under your own discretion)

A/N: I really liked how this turned out and now I have a clear path as to where the story is headed. This chapter is a bit of the exposition, you’ll really get to know the MC better. Hopefully you guys like it. I promise next chapter will be happier and have the charming fluffy Kakashi we all crave and love, but I needed this chapter to give it the depth the story needs.

Special thanks to @seventh-line for editing, she’s your quality control guys! She’s preventing you all from reading a mess hehe. (the story wouldn’t be what it is without you <3 )

IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THE NEXT CHAPTERS: CLICK HERE

Pieces of you

You run your fingers across the cover, mimicking the same motion you saw him do in the shop yesterday. For a moment, it’s not paper you’re touching, but silky cool skin.

You read the first chapter with a frown on your face, your eyes reluctantly darting from one word to the other. Before you know it, you’re through the first part of the story, and it was infuriatingly....good.

The main character is likable from the start. There’s something about the way she talks that makes you want to be her friend. She’s sexy and confident, but a complex character too, with a dense storyline and fatal flaws.

You hate to admit it, but the book really draws you in. You begin to regret having judged Kakashi so harshly. You find yourself deeply enthralled, wondering what will happen next.

There’s way more story than there is porn, contrary to how you imagined it. Customers come and go and you barely lift your eyes to charge them for their items, always eager for them to leave so you can return to your reading.

You usually devour a book in a day or two, depending on the complexity of the story, but this time, you’re purposefully taking longer with each page. Not because the writer, Jiraiya, wove a prose too elevated to understand, he didn’t, but because each page held a secret message that told the story of its owner.

The book you’re holding tells two stories, the one the author wrote, printed massively, the same as the other copies you have on the shelf. But this book you have here, is unique. Its pages, the spine, the cover, they all tell a whole other story. Kakashi’s story.

Just who are you? The book isn’t just a copy of a romance novel, it’s the pieces of Kakashi wound up and bound together in a single object. It tells more truth about him than his silly biography on the history shelf ever will. Each time you flipped through a page, you felt closer to that man you’ve only met once.

You encounter a dozen different things that give dimension to your mental image of Kakashi. Bite marks on the bottom left corner, probably made by a small dog. Clumsily highlighted quotes, usually romantic ones. A sticky residue from what appeared to be food, maybe dango, which would’ve made you gag usually but didn’t this time. You catch yourself smiling more than once as you go on a journey with the little pieces of this man scattered throughout.

When you get to a steamy scene, you check if the store is empty, and then indulge yourself. The excitement rises to the pit of your stomach.

The main character just confessed her love for the antagonist, who *plot twist* isn’t the antagonist. He’s always been in love with her and had just become part of the evil criminal organization to protect her. After an incredibly intense fight, he tells her the truth, and she can’t resist her attraction to him anymore. Between blood, and bruises, she melts into his body. His calloused hands grasp her hips, and he pulls in her as close as he can. He slips her dress down, and she’s burning with desire. Your hands shake slightly and your breath becomes faster, heat rushing to your thighs.

She looks into his eyes, and threads her hands through his damp hair, making him moan hoarsely with the motion. In a deliciously slow motion he -

You close the book startled by the sound of the door chime to see a petite woman comes into the store with two little kids.

“Y/N?” Yume stares at you in disbelief “is this really you?”

You’re always happy to see your best friend, except now. You try to hide the book, uselessly, because she’s already noticed.

“Yeah why would I not be me?” You ask with a nervous giggle, pretending not to know what she’s talking about.

She turns towards the children and tells them to go look for something in the kids section. They run towards the colorful shelves decorated with animal decals happily. Then, to you she says “I mean what in the literary hell are you reading? The real Y/N wouldn’t ever touch those books”

Your cheeks get hot and you let out a nervous laugh

She takes the book from your hands and examines the cover

“This is one tough loved book. Which trash can did you fish it out of?”

“Stop, give it back!” you say reaching for it, but she pulls it away “and I didn’t take it out of a trash can. Someone lent it to me, and they happen to take it on rough missions”

“Y/N? What are you telling me? Don’t say this belongs to a...” she flips to the first page, and right below the title she sees the sloppy handwriting where he marked the book as his.

Hatake

“Shinobi” she whispers as her eyes widen, a gesture of pain crossing her face.

You want to say something, but find yourself stammering and at a loss for words. You know how she feels about shinobi, and you understand, but there’s something about Kakashi that intrigues you so much, that pulls you closer to him. Not to mention how kind he was that he brought the book to you, even if he’d been cocky when you met.

“You know they’re dangerous. And Kakashi Hatake’s copy? Seriously? He’s said to be one of the worst. You know some people call him the friend killer. What does that mean? The guy is nothing but trouble. Interacting with shinobi more than necessary will get you killed.”

You keep searching for words, but you cannot find them. The man you’ve met, read about, the guy who enjoys these novels, who keeps a bookmark made by three kids, who couldn’t stand the thought of you hating his favorite books, doesn’t match what she’s saying. It can’t, not for you. But you know there’s truth in what Yume says too.

He is a dangerous shinobi, he’s a known ex-ANBU, and it was true, his teammates once went on missions with him and they never came back.

“Now I don’t know if he killed them or not. Maybe he didn’t, not intentionally. But the fact is, his whole team is dead. Wherever he goes, death follows.” Yume paused, turning to stare out the window, arms crossed, “Wherever Shinobi go, death follows, or have you forgotten what happened to Kei?” She rubs the back of her head, frustrated. Her voice sounds strained now, as if going on with this conversation is too painful for her.

She takes a deep breath and looks directly into your eyes.

“Now I have two sons I didn’t ask for, and I love them. Don’t think I don’t love them, but don’t you think they miss their mother? The real one. Do you think I don’t miss my sister?”

Your friend asks finally.

You stay quiet. She takes her children and leaves without getting them anything. The remnants of your conversation leaving a dent in your heart.

You hate to see her go like that, mad at you, because you know her pain, and you love her.

Knowing those things about Kakashi should scare you away, but all it does is break your heart for him.

He shouldn’t have gone through that pain alone. Nobody should. In the end, Yume had her nephews, now her adopted sons, and her mother. You have your mother too.

As far as you knew, Kakashi Hatake, elite ninja, ex ANBU, mourned alone.

Everyday you wait for him to show up at the bookstore again, so you can prove to yourself he is the kind man you’ve found in the pages of this book. He doesn’t show up.

Taglist: @theunknownrandom @seventh-line

#naruto #kakashi hatake #naruto fic #naruto imagines #kakashi imagines #kakashi x y/n #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi #kakashi x reader #naruto headcanons #kakashi hc #kakashi headcanons #a well loved copy #hatakenosharingan

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badgerhuan · 3 years

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Until the End of Their Time

Or, the one where they let things fall naturally.

Prompt was Fake Married au.

Merry Christmas, @supergeekytoon. I'm so sorry this is late, and a bit on the short side. I truly have no excuse, but I hope you and everyone else reading this will enjoy it. <3

Read on AO3.

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Benji has lost count of how many times he and Ethan had been married.

There was a first time, a more elaborate one where the mission depended on the mark believing that Ethan and Benji were madly in love newly weds. Back then, having to sell being in love while pretending to not actually be in love with Ethan was torture.

He remembers when they rehearsed their backstory and practiced the level of intimacy they should be at with each other. He told himself it’s strictly professional. He pulled out every ounce of acting he had in him. He could do this. He was good at this. He knew he was.

He remembers Ethan being so tentatively careful. Hands that would fall on him in a display of public affection, but never wandering further than the boundaries they had discussed prior. Pulling him close, but always with just enough space left that Benji could easily maneuver away if he wanted to.

Benji was the same way back. Calculated touches that never linger more than they should. Practiced ease in their lack of personal space in which he never allowed himself to relax. No one could tell looking at them, of course, but they knew. They were all but too aware.

Ethan had never felt more out of reach than in those agonizing hours trying to get the mark to take interest in them.

Then the mission went wrong, because it always does, and they escape the mansion the party was held at by the skin of their teeth.

Maybe it was the euphoria of being alive, maybe it was the wine that he admittedly drank more than he should’ve, but sitting there, huddled at an abandoned bus stop with Ethan, finally out of danger and waiting for Luther to pick them up, the simple wedding band on his finger was suddenly the most hysterical thing Benji had ever seen in his entire life.

He laughed, and he couldn’t stop. Ethan looked at him in amusement, and soon he was laughing, too. The absurdity of that instance, of two grown man laughing themselves silly in the middle of nowhere, only added to the fire of Benji’s mirth. He felt himself relax, and felt the tension leave Ethan’s body next to him.

By the time Luther showed up, they were leaning into each other, sharing knowing looks as they kept giggling, and both shrugged in answer to Luther’s raised eyebrow.

---

They didn’t talk about it.

But things shifted after that, somehow.

It’s their go-to cover story now. They know each other well enough to pretend to be married. Shared enough near death experiences and trauma and memories that most married couples do. Know the comfort level the other has to never cross the line. It’s practical.

A pet name thrown out when the museum staff catches them where they shouldn’t be.

An arm tossed over the other’s shoulder to pull into a close embrace when the target they’re tailing looks their way.

A hand taking the other’s as they bluff their way up to the guard they’re going to incapacitate.

A kiss, not on the lips, never on the lips, but just close enough to look real to the child who isn’t supposed to be there, who they’re going to have to figure out a way to get to safety without exposing their identities.

Sometimes it’s Ethan. Sometimes it’s Benji. They’re both dancing on the line until the line had somehow disappeared.

Until Benji finds himself reaching for Ethan’s hand in the quiet darkness of their hiding spot, alone together, and Ethan doesn’t pull away.

Until Ethan plops himself down next to him on a couch in a safehouse, not bothering to keep any distance from Benji, and Benji leans into him in response.

Until standing in close proximity to each other feels like the most common thing in the world, where once upon a time Benji’s heart might have beaten itself out of his throat.

Until……until. Until.

---

It’s early morning, and Benji is standing on the rooftop of some hotel in Budapest. It’s the fifth one this month, and he aches for home.

But it’s not so bad, he supposes. All the more so when a familiar presence takes its spot next to him.

Ethan touches his shoulder to Benji’s. Benji lets himself place a hand on Ethan’s arm. They stand in silence as they watch the city wake up beneath them.

For once there’s no urgency to start the day. The mission is behind them and their plane isn’t due until noon. There’s something very calming about choosing to wake up early instead of being forced to. The colors of the sky brightens with each passing minute, and Benji takes a deep breath.

He feels a hand over his. He turns his head and sees Ethan looking at him, a small smile on his lips. Ethan’s thumb rubs gentle circles into the back of his hand. Benji smiles back.

In the end, leaning forward and kissing Ethan is the easiest thing he’s ever done.

He pulls back, but Ethan chases after him, and they’re kissing again. Deeper. Longer. Words that Benji never said swirling at the tip of his tongue as he drinks in the silent promises spilling from Ethan’s mouth. It’s earth shattering in that it’s mundane. It’s extraordinary in that it’s plain.

Of course they ended up here, Benji thinks. It’s the natural progress of things. Two marbles thrown into a basin that were always destined to meet in the middle.

Inevitable.

They break apart for breath. Benji beams at Ethan, and allows himself a second to lock the look of pure joy on Ethan’s face into his memories. He plants another quick kiss on Ethan’s cheek, then steps away from the metal fence lining the edge of the roof. Ethan follows, and they leave the city skyline behind, hand in hand.

They’re dancing together now and will be until the end of their time. Benji knows it in his soul.

------

There it is! A slightly Different take on the fake married trope. As much as I love fics where they build romantic tension until it all explodes in a much anticipated confession, I also love the idea of them just...growing close, together. So I wanted to explore that. I hope this wasn't to purple prose-y haha.

Happy holidays to all!!

#mission: impossible #benthan #benji dunn #ethan hunt #roch writes #god it's been A While #i'm glad i've finally written something i feel confident enough to post :')

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

Note

If it’s okay. Can I please request some LOVE headcanons with Jaskier, if it hasn’t already been requested?

Dang . . . We almost got an entire set here with Jaskier 👀

Who said “I love you” first?: You know it was Jaskier. Not only because you’d spent the entire time leading up to that point desperately trying to stifle your newly-found affections, but also because everybody knows that the loudest mouth on the continent has to have the first word. However, given that it’s Jaskier, you don’t buy it at first. For one, the man throws the word “love” around as, well, a bard throws around cheesy prose. Who’s to say that his dramatic gesture of spreading his arms wide and crying out gloriously, “Dear (Y/N)! I have determined that you! Are! The! One!!” wasn’t just another show for him? For another, as much as a part of you wanted to believe otherwise, a much larger part just couldn’t believe the possibility that someone like Jaskier could like someone like you romantically -- in whatever way “someone like Jaskier” could be taken. You initial reluctance to accept the bard’s confession left him a husk of a man, pouting and frustrated as he ranted to Geralt in the secrecy of a rented room at a tavern. All the while, the latter could only bluntly state that it’s Jaskier’s fault for having taken everything without much seriousness to it. His actions got him into this mess, he surely couldn’t expect for them to get him out of it. So he had to go the other way about it. You were very concerned when Jaskier got quiet. He’d already been acting strange for the last while or so, fumbling over his words and even struggling to babble on whimsically to jostle up songs. You had half a mind to assume that the poor fool might’ve been falling sick! But when he insisted he wasn’t, and that you still accompany him to the small plot of gardening land beside the tavern, your curiosity led you to oblige. You simply had to see where this was going. Hopefully to an explanation as to why he’d been acting so funny lately. In hindsight, the silly boy had probably scoped the area to find the most romantic spot. Admittedly, there’s not so many romantic associations one might have with raspberries, but there was a rock large enough to sit upon nearby where they were growing, which Jaskier apparently decided would have to do. It wasn’t a bench or a charmingly rustic fountain, but he still took it upon himself to treat it as though it were just as special. You wordlessly (if confusedly) followed suit, perching yourself on it per his request. Though, the temptation to leap right off of it struck the moment he took your hand into his own and locked eyes with you. You’d never heard Jaskier speak so calmly, so seriously, yet without a hint of graveness in it. You waited for him to reveal that it had been a joke, that he was using the moment to harvest some sort of song fodder from your response. But it never came. He just kept kneeling before you, awaiting your response, the hope in his eyes dwindling bit by bit in the moonlight the longer you went without saying anything. “Oh,” he finally spoke. Your heart could’ve shattered with the hint of trembling in that single syllable. “I, um . . . I suppose it is a bit -- it was a poor choice to -- I shouldn’t have -- ” No sentence sounded right to him in his moment of embarrassment. He tried getting back up, unlocking your hand from his, but your reinforced grip gave him pause. You shook your head, your heart beating so hard and fast that it hurt. And yet, the pain of it dulled when in comparison to the relief and bliss you felt.

What are their primary love languages?: Being the attention whore that he is, it would only be suitable that Jaskier reaps love and affection through words of affirmation and quality time. Yeah, he’s also a very sexual being, but he’s an entertainer down to the bone: It’s simply in his nature to desire your attention. When you spent quality time with him and give him praises meant only for him, you simply must be paying attention to him! And even beyond that, it provides the both of you means to communicate and get to know one another. (Well, more than you would already have to, given that you’re on the road all the time.) But for as arrogant as Jaskier is, that bardic nature goes both ways: It’s also in his nature to appraise everything to the highest and most flowery degree, as well as to throw that attentiveness to physical appeal right back at you. He loves being able to be physically close to you in any way that he can, especially sexually. And if he can make sweet and attentive love to you while also (literally) singing your praises? Worshiping your looks and your responses to his ministrations? It’s like he’s died and gone to heaven, a la le petit mort!

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Frequently, when the opportunity provides it. Of course, cuddling is difficult to do when one is on the road. And even though the ground isn’t necessarily the most ideal bed for it, being spooned can certainly help alleviate the dread of having to sleep on a floor that could become muddy soon enough. But that doesn’t stop the two of you from engaging in physical forms of affection whenever you can. You’ve never really been one especially for public displays of affection, but something about holding Jaskier’s hand as the two of you trail behind Geralt and Ciri just feels right. His hold is soft and warm, with only trace amounts of callousness due to his constant strumming on the lute. And when the group takes a break, you could think of nothing more refreshing than being able to sit at the base of a large tree and tuck yourself into the crook of your significant other’s arm as the both of you rest in silence, just enjoying the ambience. Sometimes, if you’re in an especially bubbly or affectionate mood, kisses wind up exchanged with no care on if Geralt or the child see you. There’s nothing shameless about giving your beloved a kiss on the cheek or even a quick peck on the lips, is there? Besides, the real shame should fall on Jaskier for always taking it too far by trying to kiss a line up your neck. It just gets taken up to an 11 when you actually have a proper bed to sleep on: The spooning increases, the not so sneaky caresses along the sides make an appearance, and the not-even-trying-to-hide-it attempts at lovingly groping your lovely bits are made because at least now there’s some privacy. And if you’re in the right mood and not too tired from your travels, you don’t mind indulging.

What are their favorite things to do together?: It depends on where the two of you are, but the one consistency is chatting and flinging jokes at one another. Jaskier fancies himself a man of wit so when you prove not to be afraid of playing along or hucking jokes right back at him, he takes it as a game. One of the competing sort. No matter how you may try, that game is going to turn into the two of you trying to make the other laugh or blush with some crude or colorful remarks. (And you can pretend you’re above it all you want, you’re clearly enjoying it.) He also likes how much inspiration your talks can give him, from you recounting the places you’ve seen to the people you’ve encountered (though you insist it’s nowhere near as impressive as he tries to make them sound in song form).

Who’s better at comforting the other?: As observant and intuitive as Jaskier can surprisingly be, this doesn’t always mean that he’s the best at using what he’s learned to calm the situation. If anything, his skittish and overly talkative nature can only drive you further into frustration if he’s not too careful. You know he means well, but Jackie can still be a bit overwhelming if one is already not in the best mood. But when it comes to calming him, you’re one of the best there is. At the very least, you’re able to distract him enough or praise him enough to where he’ll become a little less catty. He may be pouting as he rests his head against your breast, but he’s (not so) secretly eating up the proximity, how your fingers gently card through his hair, how warm your chest feels as it vibrates with your words . . . Words that are, of course, telling him what a talented minstrel he really is, especially compared to that hack of a troubadour, Valdo Marx. The moment you feel him smirking is the moment you know he’s let go of all pretenses of being upset — he’d felt good as new long ago. Still, you let him stay there.

Who’s more protective?: I suppose Jaskier, though the more fitting term would be “possessive.” Jaskier isn’t a very competent fighter (read: He cannot fight at all) so when it comes to physical well-being, he isn’t much good for keeping you any more guarded than however fast you both can run away from the problem. He’s more of a guardian when it comes to the heart or a person’s mental well-being. As embarrassingly idiotic as he can sometimes be, he isn’t so completely unaware as to not notice toxicity in other people. Unfortunately, he’s ironically not very good at vocally communicating this. As a result, he can come across as clingy or annoying. Which he is. But also, he doesn’t want you hurt and has your best interests in mind. Meanwhile, you care plenty for his physical well-being but also know you’re not much of a fighter, either. Besides, Jaskier’s gotten by on the road by himself far longer than you’ve known him -- apparently, he knows how to at least keep his head still attached to his body.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Both. As a stereotypical bawdy bard, he loves giving it, and as a humanoid peacock of a man, he loves receiving it. Let him lay his head in your lap while you stroke his hair and tell him what a wonderful performer he is, and how his voice makes you weak and yet empowered with desire --

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: It may seem a bit rough to apply a song to such a musical man, but quite a few do come to mind: “Sweet Talk” by Saint Motel, “Put Your Money on Me” by The Struts, “Fall in Love” by Bad Rabbits, “Hands” by Barns Courtney . . . Now, if you take the time to listen to these or even look up some of the lyrics, you’ll notice a trend: A man pining for a woman who’s always just ever so slightly out of his reach. Or a man singing his delight for a woman who seems altogether unimpressed or at least hesitant to take a chance on him. Or the girl is just elusive. Which makes perfect sense, given that you’re one to guard her heart when in the face of the minstrel while Jaskier is the one putting his own entirely out there for you. But don’t be dismayed: Jaskier loves a good chase. His type is best defined as “someone he shouldn’t have or must at least bust his ass to acquire”, as one can assume from his interactions with concubines, higher-standing nobility, mothers, warriors, Geralt . . . But if you have a taste for something more optimistic or lighthearted, fear not: There’s always “Easy Way” by For the Foxes or “Undone” by The Bird and the Bee. What makes a song like “Undone” unique, however, is that it’s more for your point-of-view. Your feelings for Jaskier are complex yet so simple. He knows you’re not exactly the best at emoting, much less when it comes to your affections. But sometimes, you think that’s a good thing: If you were even half so brave or careless, the poor man might’ve died from your more frequent desire to kiss him to death (not that he would mind dying in such a pretty way). You can put on a calm expression all you want: Inside, you’re a storm of thoughts. You want to impress him, you want him to think you’re witty and bewitching, you want to be his yet one definite thing, you want to be the one who, well, can make him come undone with just a kiss. And it just takes you aback sometimes to realize that the very man, known for his philandering, already sees no wrong in you, and that he wants nothing more than the very same. With you and only you.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: It startled you to learn one day that you’d been calling him a nickname the entire time. In hindsight, yeah, it made sense: “Jaskier” was unusual as a given name. But you had grown so used to it and how it fit him like it was bespoke, that learning his real name was Julian just . . . It felt weird. Still, that didn’t erase the fact that, yes, Jaskier was technically still a nickname for him that you’d been using, knowingly or not. Though, every once in a while you would make an attempt to refer to him as something else: “Baby Eyes”, you realized, had some unusual sticking power to it.It’s normally used in an almost pouty tone, usually to accompany the pouting Jaskier’s already doing when you say it. Not in a taunting manner, but as if to extend sympathy. You hadn’t even meant for the name to keep reappearing but it just rolls off the tongue, especially whenever Jaskier looks at you with those blue eyes, fixed in a puppyish pout. He also seems to respond well to names that suggest his talent or genius, but we would be here all night running through the specifics due to how ridiculously and pointlessly long they are. The length of Jaskier’s names had actually become a bit of a problem even when in reference to you: It’s not really a nickname when your lover wants to refer to you as “Stunning Little Starling of the Northern Sky” or “Darling Daffodil of the Valley” and so on. He’s had to shorten quite a few down to “Starling” or “Darling” or “Daffodil” or “My Muse” or “Exquisite One, Conqueror of My Heart, Goddess of My Sleeping Hours, Patron Saint to My Loins --”.

Thank you for your patience!

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier imagine #the witcher imagine #the witcher imagines #regrettablewritings #character ship meme #character ship headcanons

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

Text

Lady In Waiting

Author Note: Hiya everyone! This one, man, I’ve thought about this for a long time! I hope it entertains and delights you all! Summary: Loki calls you over for some fun with cuffs but an interruption leaves you a Lady In Waiting!

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: So, SMUT. Art House, Prose-y, SMUT... also restraints, in a committed relationship.

“Come over. I need you.”

That was all it took for you to get yourself across town as quickly as your worn out canvas sneakers could carry you. Knocking on his door, breathless and heart racing, you bite into your bottom lip. Already excited, you rocked on your heels, a bubble of giddiness rising inside you.

Hearing the locks turn, you’re expecting the door to open for you, Loki waiting on the other side but that doesn't happen. Tentatively, twisting the knob, you push into the dimly lit room where your lover hides. He is definitely here, you think in the clear moment before Loki’s hands find your shoulders, driving you into the solid wood of his front door.

Stopping his lips is not an option. Cupping your chin, he has tipped your mouth into the perfect position, allowing him unchecked access to your soft, sweet mouth. You’d moan, but Loki would just swallow it whole, so the sound you do make is a choked gasp of longing. His tongue is inside you, flicking over your teeth. His tongue rubs against your own, tasting what you taste of.

His tongue caresses your inner cheek, slick on slick, slipping further into the deep well of you.

His tongue traces the roof of your mouth, riding the ridges there, as if to conquer all of the flavors and words and songs that might be made in your carnal cave. Pulling away, dewy pink pout in place, “I came as soon as I could.” “It’s much appreciated.” Fingers grab his tight shoulders, enjoying the unbearable nearness of him, unwilling to break your embrace even if the kiss must end. Searching his eyes for answers, “What’s your rush?” It’s innocent enough a question. Loki’s call had sounded almost panicked. But you knew nothing truly scared your God of Mischief. No, there was something else at work here. “I told you. I need you.” Pressing his hardening length against your belly, you could feel the agitation in him, the straight up desire that drove him to dial you up. Still at the entryway, you flexed your hands, releasing your grip on him with great effort.

But Loki didn’t yield an inch to you. If anything he stepped closer, pinning you with his rigid body and his scorching gaze. With a heaving sigh, “Loki…” “Go to the bedroom. Take off these ridiculous pants… your silly sneakers… your stupid socks.”

On you again, mumbling into your neck, mouth intent on marking you, “Kneel on the bed. You know how I like to see you. Feet tucked under you, head bowed, back straight… but with your knees spread, dove. Wide open for only me to see. Will you do this for me?” What could you say? No? Hardly.

Loki pushed away from you then, leaving you behind as he moved further into his lair, his directions leaving your knees weak. Inhaling a steadying breath, you moved quickly, struggling for calm. Pulse racing, you throw your bag down with a thump once you're in Loki's room.

Wasting no time, you shuck your clothes, heart pounding with anticipation. You scramble onto the inky sheets, flushed with want, goosebumps breaking across your hypersensitive skin. It seems like hours, but truthfully, in seconds you were waiting as requested, panting with pent up passion.

You weren't left waiting long. Leaning into the door frame, Loki was without his shirt, a sight that made you writhe. Black jeans, faded at the knee from wear, were unsnapped but hanging onto his hips in a way that made you salivate. He was also barefoot, which probably shouldn’t be so sexy on a man like yours, but damn him… even his toes had the ability to excite.

And they did, actually, all of it did. You couldn't recall a time when you had been so, so ready. If Loki didn't touch you soon, you were certain your body would self ignite. “Put your hands behind your back, little one.” Doling out commands in his honey hot voice had you complying without complaint. Forcing your chest out, bountiful bust barely contained by your flannel shirt, you felt the buttons tug tightly in your new position. Lust lingered in Loki’s eyes at your shameless display. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, darling. So much fun.” Deep down, you knew that the cuffs were coming out. He wouldn’t have been so specific with his directions otherwise. Still, when the cool steel snapped closed, trapping your wrists behind you, you keened softly, “Is this really necessary?” “Definitely. Because, you see, you look so damn fetching with your body bent in the way I want.” Pulling down on the chain between your shackles, back bending to relieve the pressure, Loki asserted his dominion over you.

Long fingers plucked your straining buttons open. Greedy fingers circled your nipples, the coarse lace of your bra offering no protection from the fantastic friction Loki was creating. His palms squeezed, rough, fingers finding a hold on each of your glorious globes. Tugging the frilly cups down, your breasts now heavy and free, Loki lowers his full lips to your tender bud. At first it’s a lick, tentative, soft. Soon he is sucking, precious pain pulling you closer to his tightly sealed kiss, perfect teeth biting into the gentle flesh. “Oh fuck… oh fuck… Loki…” Whines tumble out of you, unbidden, unrehearsed.

“Hush, dearest. If you can’t quiet down, I’ll have to make you.” Folding your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding with understanding, you silently agree. Returning to his work, Loki focused on your opposite breast with the same erotic enthusiasm. Since you can’t speak, you hum. But then your humming grows in volume. Soon you’re moaning, unable to do more than bounce your bottom, needing the fullness that Loki offers to bring you some level of satisfaction. Feeling him over the flimsy fabric of your panties, head thrown back in delirious desire, you want Loki to push inside of you. You’re desperate to have him stretch you, open you up for his own amusement. That eagerness makes Loki chuckle darkly.

His hands find your hips, dipping under the elastic waist of your underwear. Expecting Loki's lingering touch, a whine slides out of you at the sound of shredding satin. “No, please, Loki! I’ll be quiet. I promise!” “Ah, it’s a bit late for that, unfortunately. Open up.” Loki expects your complete submission, never doubting that you’ll do what he’s asked. Reluctantly you part your lips. Loki takes his time, thumb caressing your mouth, before setting the ruined garment on your tongue. Kissing along your jaw, Loki husks, “Now you’re wet cunt is ready for me.” Your eyes roll at his lewd language, a wave of euphoria coasting through your throbbing cleft, your stuffed mouth unable to do more than mumble. His wicked words are still hanging there, floating in the air around you both, when there’s a knock at his door. Freezing in place, his hand on your spread thigh, Loki’s head cocks to one side as if unsure that he’s heard the beckoning.

"Loki? Are you there?” “Thor. Fuck. He's early.” Shocked, you watch Loki push himself off the bed, buttoning up his pants. Words form but are blocked by the fancy cloth stunting your speech. Grazing his lips over your forehead, “Don’t move, darling. I’ll be back.” Anger replaces arousal. Loki can tell by the look on your face that you’re more than pissed off at the interruption. “I know. Just be a good girl. Be quiet. Be still. And I won’t show my brother how incredibly sexy you look bound and gagged in my bed.” With one last look at your livid figure, Loki shut his bedroom door, leaving you as he described. Wet, willing and now, waiting. You can’t hear what they’re talking about, all you can make out is tones. It sounds rather serious, but without context, who’s to say what brings Thor here, unannounced. He must ask after you, because Loki’s voice rises just a bit in order to offer a vague, “She’s tied up at the moment.” And you really could scream with frustration and fury. Internally debating your options, you realized that they were few, and of poor quality. You could risk rising, near naked with your hands locked behind you, but how would you open the door? Grunting, you sit back on your heels, giving your sore knees a break. How long would Thor stay? Shortly you heard Loki’s footsteps coming closer. Suddenly alert, your reverie broke in a flash, focused solely on the door. Blushing hot, you watched the knob turn and Loki, finally, was there. He didn’t come closer, rather, Loki pulled a clean shirt from a drawer. Tipping into near panic, you started talking even though you knew it was pointless. Sensing your anxiety, Loki brought your face to his, kissing your cheek. “Thor is still here, not a sound, kitten.” His voice is rough. Coarse. But it also sends shivers shooting through your system.

The bed dips as he sits beside you. Loki parts your opened shirt, hands drawn to your satin skin, palms skating over your belly. Shivering, you can't help tilting towards him. If you weren't so tense with need maybe you could afford to be angry with Loki. As it is, just being near him is enough to reignite your ardor.

Whispering softly, calming you between chaste kisses to your chin, cheeks, the bridge of your nose, Loki calls you darling, sweetness, dear. His hands never stop exploring your tethered form, relishing your responsive whines, enjoying your trusting helplessness. Mirroring your posture, sitting up on his knees, Loki grabs one of the pillows from his headboard.

Still adrift in the attention he affords you, his changing tone of voice jars you, "I only have a minute, pet." His hands, aggressive now, slap your thigh. The intention is clear. Spread 'em.

"My sweet little kitten, so greedy, so ready for me… I am unable to attend to all your needs just now. Regrettably." His voice is a ragged husk.

Arousal evident as he scrunches the pillow, "Come on… up on your knees."

Unsure of Loki's objective, you're surprised when he tucks the cozy rectangle between you and the mattress. The foam, pressing against your swollen sex, provides friction but not the satisfying stretch your body craves. Using only your mumbled mewls as confirmation to continue, toying with you, Loki circles your hypersensitive clitoris. Your hips jerk, surprised spasms sending you into the softness Loki has stuffed underneath you.

"That's it… keep going. Gods, you are so beautiful." His praise speeds up in time with your climbing desire. Gasping behind your gag, once more on the edge of ecstasy, your thighs tremble around the cushion cradling your center. Between Loki's dancing digit and the unlikely excitement caused by riding the downy pillow, you're seconds away from succumbing to a glorious finale.

And as fast as he began, Loki withdraws, leaving you drenched in unquenchable need. Crying in frustration, muffled and desperate, your body is beyond the limits of begging. At the moment Loki could ask anything of you and he would have your complete cooperation, if it meant that you could clench around his hard length.

Standing, those long legs carry him to the bureau. Rustling around, Loki finds what he needs and faces you with a devious grin. Crossing the floor in two strides, looming over you now, your tear streaked face lifts toward the man you love. His hand tangles in your hair, forcing your back to bow, pushing your pelvis forward.

A familiar buzz fills the room. He gives you no further warning. One second you're open, ripe and ready. The next you are overfilled, grateful for the gag muffling your cry, squeezing the toy stuffing your center.

“Loki? Are you ready?” Thor’s voice boomed from the other room breaking through the cloud of your nearing climax. “Nearly there, brother! Give me just another minute!’ Turning his bright blue eyes to you, Loki flashed his finest smile, “He needs me to go with him. I won’t be long… so you must cum. Right now."

And it's the physically lethal combination of Loki's flashing glare, his wicked whispers, and false phallus that fight to free your feminine frenzy. Humping his toy into you, the pillow giving you resistance, you feel the speculative shuddering start in your center. Cresting in a wave of wonderment, your pleasure crashed over you, cries cut off by your full mouth.

Loki, holding onto you, cooing softly, caresses you through your release. The toy stills inside of you, still filling, but no longer shaking against your tender walls. Swiping the gag free, Loki forces a deep kiss on you, absorbing your aftershocks with his able mouth. "That, my sweet, was worth every second."

Stretching your jaw, sighing softly, "Loki… undo these cuffs?"

Thoughtful for a moment, Loki looked over your flustered form, "I don't think I will. I rather like having you here. Knowing that you’re naked and needy, waiting for me. Gods… I’ve been hard this entire time, dove.” Wasting no time, Loki picked up where he’d left you before, his hand finding your center as his tongue plundered you once more. Slow, painfully slow, Loki dragged his fingers through your soaked slit, pressing the vibrator firmly into your velvet tunnel. Soon, too soon, you were a mewling mess. Sobbing softly into Loki’s ear, “Please… more, please.”

Shaking against him, body taunt, so ready to let go again, Loki’s fingers left you. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”, his normally stoic voice streaked with desire. In a worried whisper, “What? You’re really leaving me?” “I am. But once I get back, I’m going to ravage you soundly, so I need you to be ready.”

“Loki! You can’t!” It’s the loudest you can be while still whispering. And it isn’t nearly forceful enough to change your troublemaking lover’s mind. “I can and I will.” Walking around you, facing you full on, Loki stroked over your tummy. Grabbing your bottom, fingers digging into your yielding flesh, you groaned. “Oh yes, you’re staying right here, my pretty pet.” “Loki? Are you ready yet?” Thor sounded impatient, and more alarmingly, right outside the bedroom. “Almost, dear brother. Meet me downstairs, ok?” “Fine… but hurry up! Jane’s expecting me!” “Oh, we don’t like to keep our ladies waiting, do we brother?” Thor moves on, you hear his boots on the stairs. Loki on the other hand, his look is sinful as he licks his lips, hungry for you. Leaning into your ear, “I can smell you, kitten. And I can hardly wait to have you.” You lean into his strength, silently begging him to stop this game, hot skin abraded by his clothing. “Please! Don’t leave me hanging, Loki!” Laughing coldly, “Hanging? Oh no. You have so much to do, darling. There are rules, you see…” Gritting your teeth, already on edge, you wanted to snap at your lover. “Rules? Loki, you’re really…” But the rest of your words were lost as he manipulated the massager using some form of magic. Arching away from him, your overstimulated body wanted to fly over the cliff into your next completion. “Are you listening, love? Because this is important. You are not allowed to cum without me.”

Rational thought was fleeting. With every second of sensual overload Loki forced on you, all you knew for certain was that you worshiped the God in front of you, and because of this, your agreement was undeniable. Nodding, voice useless, you let Loki kiss you again, his rhythm matching that of his tormenting toy.

"Do not cum, kitten. I will be back shortly." Slapping your ass, Loki laughed at your shriek, shutting the door on you. Could you hold out? God, the thrumming vibrations were radiating through you. Rocking your hips, fighting against the tide of your tension, your fragile nerves were rapidly fraying. He had told you, commanded you, ordered you not to climax. But how long would it take before your body broke Loki’s rule? And just what would The God of Mischief do if you failed him? Pulling against the steel bracelets holding your arms, snuggled into the cushion cradled against you, you laughed as a fresh release rolled over you.

You were going to be here awhile. Loki was going to need a new pillow. And paying him back was going to be so much fun.

Tagging Team: @just-random-obsessions @iamverity @brokenthelovely @nonsensicalobsessions @archy3001 @mizfit2 @vodka-and-some-sass @jamielea81 @jessiejunebug @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @procrastinatinglikeabitch

#hot loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki (marvel)#marvel smut #mcu smut

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goddamnelsa · 3 years

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Liz’s Top Books of 2020

blatantly stolen from @alamorn but also i wanted to feel accomplished that i did in fact read published books this year before descending entirely into mdzs/the untamed fanfiction :) :) :) :)

In two parts! Books I read that actually came out in 2020, and then honorable mentions of books I read in 2020 that were published in previous years. Enjoy!

Top Books Published in 2020 (which are not in any kind of order because I can’t like rank stuff, I’m not that kind of person)

The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin

What can I say except it’s N.K. Jemisin who wrote my favorite high fantasy series (The Inheritance Trilogy), won three consecutive Hugo Awards for her The Broken Earth trilogy, and she’s writing urban fantasy with Lovecraftian and superhero team flavor. I mean....obviously I was at the top of the wait list for this once my library ordered it. And it lived up to the hype!! Because of course!! It’s fabulously fast-paced with amazingly smart and interesting characters of diverse backgrounds. I kept thinking one of them was my favorite, and then another would have a great line and I would change my mind. It’s fine, they’re all technically one entity with several parts, so I can love them all and not choose (but it’s probably Bronca, let’s be real). And it’s the first of a series! And I’m counting down the days til there is more!

Axiom’s End by Lindsay Ellis

I definitely picked this up simply because Lindsay Ellis, one of my favorite video essayists, wrote it, and then ended up loving everything about it. I’m not usually one for First Contact stories, but I appreciate the very human-focused approach here, sticking solely to an ordinary girl’s perspective as she navigates being the person first in contact with a very alien alien. Cora’s attempts to humanize Ampersand are relatable, but I appreciate Ellis reminding us at almost every turn that Ampersand is super Not Human, no matter how much Cora reads into his actions. Ellis doesn’t gloss over the Science part either, especially when it comes to the race of aliens Ampersand belongs to. Again, the first of a series, and you will absolutely be screaming for the next book when this one is over.

You Had Me At Hola by Alexis Daria

Insert my obligatory “I don’t usually read romances blah blah blah.” Though, during lockdown, I attempted to branch out beyond my usual genres when I was attending a ton of publisher webinars about upcoming books. This one stood out to me because of its Latinx cast and the whole behind-the-scenes of a Jane The Virgin-esque show, based on a telenovela (of course). It is fantastic, a quick read with instantly likable and fun characters. And the tropes! We’re playing love interests but we have insane chemistry! A sensitive, traumatized male lead who learns to open up again! A sassy but insecure female lead who learns to let loose and love again! Hooking up, but we have to keep on the DL or else scandal! And of course, the extended families add to every scene they are in--I loved every interaction Ashton and Jasmine had with their families, it was the cherry on top of a fantastic read. Also the sex scenes are steamy.

Beetle and the Hollowbones by Aliza Layne

I got this graphic novel as an advanced reader copy well before it came out, and after reading it, I was sCREAMING because I couldn’t tell all my graphic novel, queer coming-of-age-with-magic loving friends to immediately pick up a copy!! So thankfully, it’s out now, so I can scream to the heavens to please read this!!! It is such a sweet story with beautiful full-color art and fantastic world-building. It has the same silly, referential humor you see in a lot of kids/YA graphic novels these days, but Beetle packs in a lot of heart as well.

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi

Like many people in May/June of this year, I was reading, reading, reading a lot of books about racism from as many Black authors as I could get my hands on. There were many not published this year that should definitely be read (So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo being among the top), but this book really stuck with me because it is written specifically for a younger audience, and Jason Reynolds knows how to talk to kids about tough subjects. Stamped gets across difficult concepts like assimilationists and segregationists in an easy-to-understand, conversational style that doesn’t take away from any of the important history and nuance. This certainly is not The Book of antiracism studies, but it is a good starting point if you are daunted by lengthy title lists and aren’t sure where to begin. I highly recommend the audiobook as well, read by Reynolds himself.

(Side note: I watched this keynote address with Reynolds and Kendi which is an excellent primer into the background of how this book came to be. Reynolds is also just very interesting to listen to)

Honorable Mentions aka Books I read in 2020 that were published in previous years again, not ranked because I CAN’T, OKAY

White Is For Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

I read this book and then wanted to go back and read it immediately again, not necessarily because it was so amazing, but because I felt like I would get it even more if I did. This is a haunting little book that took turns I was not expecting, even with the book synopsis I read. It is disturbing and features descriptions of an eating disorder, so proceed with caution. However, if you like Gothic tales of haunted houses and the trauma inflicted on us by those who came before, I can’t recommend this one enough.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

My last book club read before the pandemic D: We didn’t actually get to meet to discuss this book, but my club (all librarians) were working at our emergency call center at the same time and all reading it, so we KINDA got to discuss it, if not in a formal book club setting. ANYWAY, it’s a thrilling jaunt through 1920s Mexico, following a fantastic Cinderella-esque heroine who makes a deal with a Mayan god to retrieve his body. If you are a fan of the Percy Jackson-brand of mythological adventures, this is definitely one to add to your list, especially if you are looking for something a little bit more Adult.

Scary Stories for Young Foxes by Christian McKay Heidicker

Okay, I know it’s a young readers/middle grade book, but HEAR ME OUT. This is whimsical and haunting tale about seven little fox kits who set out to scare themselves shitless by hearing scary tales. Only one kit will remain when the night is over, but the one who does will get to hear a surprisingly sweet, and well-earned, happy ending. If you are a Neil Gaiman-esque horror fan, I recommend picking this up. Its scares are fairly scary, especially for its audience, but it’s an engaging story about the lengths we will go for the ones we love.

Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse

Did someone say Navajo monster-hunting heroine with magic powers navigating a post-apocalyptic world, oh and also saving it??? Look, Maggie is My Kind of Hero, in that she’s damaged, she drinks too much, she’s surly, but she has a seriously gooey heart of gold underneath all that armor. Navajo mythology is woven into this tale of monster-hunting, surviving. If you’re in Supernatural-disappointment-land, maybe give this a try! It has that Western-y, road trip feel to it, and again, I love the lead character. (It also has a currently published sequel and a soon-to-be-released third book as well!)

This is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

This was rec’ed to me by a librarian friend, with the words, “Oh, Liz, you’ll really like this.” And she was RIGHT. Red and Blue are on opposite sides of a war waged across time and decide to send letters to each other, at first, to taunt, but then, to understand, to learn, and to love. The details of the war don’t matter much, but what does matter is the achingly beautiful poetry with which Red and Blue reveal themselves to each other. I was told to listen to this one, but I’m glad I read it myself instead. The prose is very purple at times, and I appreciated being able to go back to passages to reread again and again. Oh, and it’s queer (Red and Blue are both female), and SPOILERS SPOILERS has a happy ending.

(also there is a wangxian remix for my mdzs buds. and also a semi-officially sanctioned fanfic sequel???? at least amal el-mohtar linked it from goodreads so whoo! also also it’s very funny)

And that’s my Year in Books 2020! Seeing it laid out like this, I had a surprisingly good year for book reading even though I felt like I barely read anything. For awhile, reading was Hard, and I just wanted to consume fluffy, sweet fanfiction, but I’m getting back into it. Oh, and please let me know if you check any of these out!

Here’s to a good year for books in 2021! ✨

#books #book recs #2020 #book reviews #personal #liz reads

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fortheloveoflizards · 4 years

Note

Pelagic and Seasalt were mates yes, but unfortunately Seasalt passed away(from natural causes, so that’s good at least-)

Lionfish travelers a lot(I just, like traveling characters I geuss? I swear not all do them all, just happens to be the ones I’ve raked about). However he mostly sticks to the water so he sees his dad from time to time. Their, hm, friendly but drifting a part a little because they haven’t seen each other in a bit. But hopefully that just makes it a better reunion!

Lionfish is a lot of fun becuase he’s very silly and fun, and although he dosnt really want to start a family he loves dragonets and they love him. He’s number 1 baby sitter if he can stick around in one place.

When Lionfish was younger Pelagic loved to teach him how to hunt, it’s one of Pelagic’s foundest memories! When lionfish comes back he likes to bring Pelagic large or rare fish to prove that even now he’s still getting better.

I just love these two so much. Trying to think about more random facts but it’s late(well-technically early if you want to be specific) for me but I’m tired.

Hm. Lionfish and Seasalt werent actually that close when he was just a dragonnet, which is kind of sad. He was a little jealous of Seasalt always spending time with her siblings, Seabreeze. Sealion, and Seafoam, as a kid. But they grew a lot closer later in life and he was there when she passed away...

Pelagic used to sing a little, not professionally but he liked to do it. Sometime you can still hear him humming under his breath, but he always claims his old lungs aren’t fit for full songs anymore. He’s valid.

Lol don’t worry, I like nomadic characters as well - it suits my writing style better, I think, to be moving from place to place. I tend to go on long, prose-y tangents about scenery and the like.

D’aww, how wholesome of him to bring daddy pretty fishies! Sad that they’re growing apart, but you’re right about it making a reunion sweeter. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” as they say~ Have you already talked about how Pelagic and Seasalt met? It would be super cute if they met at a place where Pelagic was singing or something!

P.S I really like them too, wholesome father-son relationships are hard to find in media!

#Wings of Fire #WoF Original Characters #Pelagic the Sky/Sea Hybrid #Lionfish the Sky/Sea Hybrid #Seasalt the Seawing #Ask Response #funny how this account is now just a place to show off everyone's great ocs lol #also I like that Pelagic sings #or sang i guess #does Lionfish like to sing too?

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 5 years

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Because You Met Him

This was a fic that I finished some time ago but didn't post because I wasn't happy with it when I first wrote it, but I love this piece. It's been on my mind, and I'm glad I found the file cause I really want to share this with you guys. Hope you like it.

In this fic the reader loves his voice and how it affected her.

____________________

Before, wrapped up in a flesh-colored box, which you hid away from the world were your emotions; your sadness and grief reaching the marrow of your bones. After your dad died there was no one you could trust, and while your smiles were but half-truths, duplicitous in its ways, you felt the pang in your heart of hearts to find where it was that you truly belonged. There was fear and doubt, anxiety over days past, and resignation over errors and their consequence which could not be erased, but you still held on to a fraction of hope that it would all get better and it came in the form of a quiet, but friendly, soft-spoken voice which offered to help. Rick, he had come at a time when you needed him most and pacified your anger.

You hadn't realized you had been angry. You hadn't realized back then of how he would become integral to your peace.

A blessing in disguise, he was the driving force to your healing, and your days were lighter, and your hope bright. In the pleasant way in which his mouth moved, his words were a balm, it's melody the song you didn't know you needed. It was neither assertive or commanding, neither was it flat or grating, but soft, and tender, with love laced in between. Sometimes you wondered if it was possible to enjoy his voice any less than you did; if you loved it less, you might be able to talk about it more; it was salvation. Perhaps, if he was a different kind of Rick, who drank, or did recreational drugs, there would have been a gravely, rough quality to it, instead of the sing-song, friendliness you were familiar with. Either way, his words, reactions, and sounds were usually reserved for you.

It didn't take a thousand words to say how much he adored you, for his love was like a collective of butterflies, a paradise only once removed. You, oh how he would call you, the color of your name dripping from his honey tongue. Sure, there were the errors of syllables and similes, but all was forgiven in his careful exclamations. If there was a quality and tone you loved best, the first, and your foremost favorite being his laughter which was music to your ears.

His laughter made you giddy, it's power of persuasion causing your insides to flutter, and your heart to race. It didn't take much for him to entice you to follow suit with his amusement, likewise did it not take much to encourage those effervescent feelings to bubble forth, and tickle him. If you could make him laugh, then not only did you do right by Zeta-7 by making him happy, but were rewarded with kisses, and relaxed, but confident gestures of his appreciation. Though, depending on the time and hour meant you'd have to change tactics.

Mornings were meant for calm, accidental laughter over cups of hot coffee and tea, and casual chat over fluffy pancakes. The daytime hours, whether it was on the phone, or hand in hand as you ran from monsters which feasted on emotion, there was self-deprecating, nervous laughter which bubbled from one another's accidental or purposeful stupidity; which was human.

Perhaps that was the humbling fact, that the smartest man in the universe, could still laugh over the little things, and remind you that he almost deserved being human, and you were enchanted all the more. Why there was little eloquence or control, but organic, free-flowing waves of positivity, that could soften any hardened soul; it spoke of his laid-back nature. As long as there was laughter, there was peace and joy, and in your silly games to induce this reaction, you were happy. Though, there were times he was embarrassed too.

Like the other day, when you caught him off guard, by having your fingers dance over his ribs, interrupting his current task of cleaning the coffee table. Watching him squirm on the rug, lightly trying to push your hands away, he laughed his lungs out.“St…haha...st-stop it.”

You'd say he was enjoying it, since he didn't try to run away, and there was nothing alarming about his pleas. Being the tease you were, you giggled. “Oh, are you ticklish?”

“Y-y-yes,” he blushed. “terribly s-so.”

In your hands, he was helpless, and like you thought, he almost did deserve to be human with his innocent ways, and easy trust. Though, giving him the respect he deserved, you did.

___________

There were sounds which threatened to tear you apart as well, like when you finally found the courage to bring up that you had found Morty's room and he grieved, or whenever you remembered that he had been through hell and back a few times because you had almost gotten yourself killed. Groans of pain and anguish, and his voice thick with emotion as you tried to decipher his pleas. Though, these he did his best to hide. You would do all in your power to prevent and soften these emotions if you could, and kiss it better if need be. However, love was not always a cure for heartache.

Both of you carried scars and wounds of the past. Some, which may never be forgotten, but bit by bit, you both were made anew; by thoughts of new memories; of dreams; of wishes becoming realities; of gifts; of sacrifice; of hope. Daily, your pride was softened by the capability of a worthy man's speeches; regularly reassured by the light snoring that there was trust. Worry laced words reminded you of his affection and concern, and sincere compliments revealed truths; of constancy; of unconditionality. And if there was a song which spoke dearly, it was of his regret of having to part; for you joked and teased that there was always another day; a future dream, but being duplicitous with matters which scared you the most, your laughter meant you wished this love song would never cease; that forever could be.

There was fear and anxiety over days to come, and you wanted tomorrow to come today, but until then, may your memory replay his tender whispers; unafraid of a good thing which cradled and cleansed your soul. And with the prose of a good man, cherish you with the earnestness of a grateful heart.

Fin

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #rick and morty #rnm fanfic #rick and morty fanfiction #my writing #my works #j-19-zeta-7 #rick j-19-zeta-7 #j19zeta7 #rick j19zeta7 #rick sanchez #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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vanaera · 6 years

Text

The First Dip

Synopsis | All of this is too new for Jungkook - realizing he’s in love with his bestfriend, trying his best to impress a lady, manning up to do the first move - everything is too new and he’s still clueless around these things but he still tries his best.

Genre | Fluff and a very small pinch of angst (football!jk + childhood friend!you)

Words | 3,286

A/N | Okay I can’t get football!jk out of my head so here I go - another installment of this drabble series!

Read more of football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose

There’s something wrong along the lines. Something aberrant and definitely odd that emphasizes itself in one giant "What the hell" no matter how many times Jungkook adjusts his reading glasses.

Otor-nim Y/N: Hey can you check this out? What do you think? (8:46 P.M.)

Yeah, right, Jungkook will always check it out. However the minute he glanced over the text block you sent on Messenger ten minutes ago, Jungkook still doesn’t know why he feels disturbed at the same time giddy-happy. He settles for disturbed. He’ll be forever on his toes when he’s around you.

“Your eyes that held stars, every swirl of the inky black that promised another galaxy waiting to be found.”

Okay, sounds good but also weird. You have never delved into romantic poetries, as far as he knows, and this is definitely out of his comfort zone too. Jungkook scrolls down, losing himself in sentences you painted with love too surreal until his eyes drink the last words of your prose.

“You make me want to see you even in my dreams.”

“ You’re a world I will forever would want to be lost in.”

Jungkook fixes his glasses that were slipping on his nose as he strokes your words in ink across the pages you will never know about. At least not yet, he thinks, licking his lips as he finishes the line with a dot and a quotation mark along with your name and today’s date. He smiles wide at the page now marked with another art of yours along with his own little illustration of star-filled eyes and a galaxy boy holding the heart of his muse. He flips the pages to dwell on the few papers yet to be graced by words he wished was about you and him. You haven’t published anything yet in print but this black little notebook of his might be the first ever collection of your poems and prose. He chuckles, his chest rumbling with songs of the birds in his chest. Just before he could dwell again on the lines that had his heart swelling with affection, he hears a “ding!” that calls him back to his original purpose.

Otor-nim Y/N: What do you think of my drafts? (8:48 P.M.)

Oh right, he’s supposed to give a feedback. He unknowingly grins, his fingers dancing along the keyboard.

Star Kook: It’s good! No need to edit anything, it doesn’t sound cringey. Just pure admiration and romance. (8:49 P.M.)

Should he add more? There’s no harm asking right?

Star Kook: It looks like you’ve been eyeing a new inspiration lately huh? Who’s the lucky guy ;) (8:50 P.M.)

Otor-nim Y/N: Some eyecandy I’ve been staring at lately. I just imagined what having a handsome guy fawn over you felt like and I wrote that. There’s no harm daydreaming anyway and the fact that it didn’t sound like just me ‘daydreaming’ based on your feedback, I’m happy with it. Thanks Kookie! (8:50 P.M.)

Jungkook freezes. Eyecandy? You just saw where? When? You don’t spend a lot of time with guys other than him - wait. His forehead furrows as he grabs his phone to view his self camera. He doesn’t look that bad, right? Some people have told him he’s cute, so maybe it’s about him. Damn it, his cheeks are already reddening with the thought.

But then again, you’re a wonderful girl yourself and you have a couple of people orbiting around you and your ideas. He may think of you as his only rose in his garden of you and him but maybe you can’t even see him - just a tiny bud that’s taking too long to bloom - in the fields of flowers you probably collect from everyone that have adored you. The red notification on the name of his med student friend drives him to click it and remember why he’s even trying at all.

Nurse Doc Jimin: Hey, just read your message yesterday about you being emo again on your “unrequited love.” As I have numerously told you before (and I won’t stop telling you this to your blockhead self), you won’t know unless you tell her. So for you to tell her, you don’t have to bombard her with unrestrained feelings. Just up your game and make her notice it little by little. You’ve been toeing the testing waters far too long; try to man up and take a fucking dip, man. (8:53 P.M.)

It’s already one o’clock and he’s starving and you’re still stuck in class. Jungkook paces back and forth in front of the lecture hall, his bag strapped across his chest felt too heavy so he puts it on the chair he abandoned ten minutes ago. He doesn’t want to sit, feeling he will just get too jittery again, and so he sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He checks his watch - twelve forty-five - okay maybe, he’s just being really impatient, but still your Physics class is taking too long. Jimin already told him in annoyance he could just head out and buy something after he messaged him non-stop about waiting for you too long and that you’re still not done yet with gravitational forces and distances.

Nurse Doc Jimin: Well, you could just text her and tell her to meet you in that café (12:47 PM)

Jungkook snickers; he still cares for his sappy ass no matter how much he liked annoying him. But he knows with his much-appreciated advice or not, he would shut down such thought with a stubborn "Nope, I’m gonna wait for her.”

He can’t bring himself to just get up and leave when he’s already waited thirty minutes for you. His effort will go down the drain, and it was well-established between you two even back in grade school that you both have to eat your meals together. He even remembers the pinky promise your seven-year-old chubby fingers sealed along with his own pinky. “No one eats first, no one leaves the other, okay?”

It was silly at first, but after knowing how you hate eating alone when you’re so used with warmth and hearty meals shared within close-knitted families like yours and his, he made it a point to fulfill his end of the promise whenever your schedules aligned or can be bended in some cases. He even got to the point he rudely nudged Jongin away last year just to get to the seat across yours in the cafeteria when he noticed the university’s top ballet dancer was headed to your direction. He knows he was being mean and irrational, but in his defense, that spot was his to begin with and he refuses to see another guy seated across you in tables for two other than him… well, your dad and brother are excluded from this ridiculous setting he made.

He just likes to see you talk a storm about another idea you got while eating, delving in things you love, bright eyes and glowing smile directed at nothing but him that the rest of the world seemed like only giant backdrops for him and you. He’s not ready to tell you that yet, so he usually tries to quell the fluttering of bird wings in his rib cage by teasing and playfully annoying you just to temporarily soften the intensity of the songs the birds in his chest sings whenever you’re near.

Just like now, he could already feel his heart picking up pace when he heard the student’s faint chuckles and chortles getting clearer by the second behind the door. He immediately shrugs off his jacket and shoves it in his bag just so he can stand up and lean on the wall with his elbow looking all suave. It wasn’t really that cold and Seokjin passed by him earlier and said his thin shirt emphasizes the muscles he was working on lately (that you still haven’t noticed, he bitterly thinks). Taehyung remarked after taking a shower from their morning practice that his styled hair looking slightly wet made him look cooler and dare he say, hot. He checked the mirror a thousand times today (a first time ever in his life) and he checks his self camera now for one last time, and yes, he thinks he looks fantastic and so eyecandy.

The door bursts open and students flock the hallway. Jungkook waved at some of his acquaintances; he also noticed some girls who glanced his way a little longer than necessary and he smiles wider because of the attention. He thinks it’s kind of normal for other students to stare at their university’s star football player whom they saw on printed tarpaulins in school gates, sometimes on television when autumn comes along with the annual university championships. But for today, he wants to be vain a little bit just for a confidence boost and so he thinks, “Maybe I do really look good today,” as he fixes his pose.

By the time the crowd was thinning a little, Jungkook hears the tinkle of your laughter and he tries to keep himself from grinning too much while setting his elbow firmer against the wall with his other hand settled on his waist. He may or may have not also flexed his biceps for good measure.

“Yeah and he looked so cute I wanna squeeze his cheeks and just he’s soo eyecandy I swear-“

Instead of seeing you getting flustered seeing him looking like a snack (like he thinks he is), Jungkook nearly falls back when your head collided with his chest, his arms already wounding around yours to keep you from tumbling. Your hands instantly found purchase on his biceps and he could feel the tender curve of your chest against his abdomen and shit, Jungkook thinks the birds in his chest may start singing so he immediately pries you off to hold you by your hands, an arms-length safe away from his frantic heart, so you could stand on your feet.

Jungkook’s cheeks heat up the minute you raise your head slowly to meet his eyes, your warmth radiating in his arms as if he was literally holding the sun, his sun. He releases his hold on your hands so fast as if he was burnt. Hands ruffling his hair he spent so much time styling, he breaks the silence, “Hey are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you smooth out your skirt and Jungkook really feels the air was knocked out of him along with his confidence. The words to cooly invite you to lunch out with him now dying in his throat when you look so cute in a rose colored knitted sweater and red skirt. You look like a fucking fairy and shit, just so eyecandy. This is too much for his poor heart.

“Why the hell are you standing so near the door and doing this?” Jungkook looks at you copying his “eyecandy pose”, hand on your waist, elbow propped against the wall. You wear a frown but Jungkook will always recognize the teasing glint in your eyes along with your signature raised brows. Fuck, you’ll never gonna let him off the hook.

He opts to grab his bag and yell “Nevermind, I’ve been starving already waiting for you,” as he walks away so fast with his ears burning in embarrassment. You called for him to wait for you as you speedwalk to catch up to his long strides and Jungkook laughs just to hide the loud thumping of his heart.

Opening the door for you like he usually does, Jungkook leads you two to your usual table in Mark’s, the burger place you both frequent whenever one of you was feeling generous to treat the other with a fat wallet. Before you grab your seat, Jungkook zooms to your side to pull your chair for you and now he can see you looking funny at him. This is too strange for him too - doing the first move when he’s used to let you take initiative, him acting like a total gentleman when he’s been such a teasing, annoying ass to you for years – he’s literally not acting like his usual self. But with you muttering "What's gotten into you?", looking a little shaken with a telltale blush on your cheeks, Jungkook feels this kind of weird is something he’ll avidly do everyday just so he can see you grace that soft smile that always knocks out his heart.

Your order arrived a couple of minutes ago but you keep your hands laced together as you talk to him about a ballad you’re planning to write while waiting for his food.

“I mean I haven’t experienced love, and the last time I wrote about a romance story was when I was a kid –“

“The Prince and His Rose,” Jungkook supplies and you nod.

“Yeah, but today I finally thought of fully dive in the romance genre,“ you eyed Jungkook and you both said aloud, ”the genre - I - you - always avoid like a plague - "

You sigh, “and just practice how well I can deliver things that I haven’t felt yet. It’s not like I’ll be able to feel everything in this world right now but I think it would be nice to put yourselves in other’s shoes and think about how will such things really feel, right?”

“It may also be a nice training to be more empathic with your readers,” Jungkook smiles. “Wow, author-nim, you’re really going to the next level, huh,” he smirks and you swat his shoulder to which he cackled.

His food finally arrives and you start to unwrap your meal. “Anyway, I told you that because there’s a favor I need to ask from you.”

Jungkook bites his burger and motions you to continue.

“Can you come to my dorm tonight and help me with the drafts?”

Jungkook sputters, “What, wait what, you want me to?” He has never been invited by any girl before in their rooms and the last time he agreed to you to do so was when you're both 7-year-olds. It's totally different now, especially when his heart is treading on foreign waters you shouldn't know about yet anytime soon.

You set your food down before you grab his hands between your tiny ones. “Please, just tonight. My roommate will go back home today and I just need someone to give me advice face to face with the things I’ll write and sorry I know it must inconvenience you a lot but I just hate being alone for tonight and I promise-”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go.” Jungkook feels excitement and anxiety bubble in his diaphragm, but he hides it with a sigh and a downcast of his eyes to look as if he’s really burdened. He can’t really say no to you especially if he’s free for the whole night and here you are taking the words from his mouth just so he can be close to you. He keeps his dismayed forte, enjoying the way you try your puppy eyes that was effective on tugging the strings of his conscience back when you’re young. It still works today though the effect was centered on the soft muscle of his heart and a little bit on his brain now. God, he’s so whipped.

“What were you promising again?”

You sit upright and do the pledge pose you always made fun of because of him in grade school. “I’ll help you with the write ups you have to do because you’re falling behind the lit class due to the games.”

“Wow, you just have to state my negligence so nonchalantly in public.”

You make kissy faces at him. “What can I say? Perks of being a bestfriend.”

Later that night, Jungkook and you surround yourself in thousands of papers and words, pens lining and sighing with ink and letters of longing for some lover you never had. Jungkook doesn’t know why you needed him by your side in the first place when you're doing more than okay with your lines. He feels bad when he knows he can’t really help you out without giving away too much of the musings of his heart you don’t need to hear yet so he just suggests things you can tweak like “instead of blazing, write ‘scorching’, it has more feel to it,” or “you can add this to the fourth stanza.”

It wasn’t until you stood up to make some dinner that your phone rang with a new text message when Jungkook knew why you actually needed him. Another declined manuscript, failed deadlines - Of course you wouldn’t say it aloud to him, but he knows with your sudden workaholic tendency tonight, you’ve been escaping the reality, seeking comfort in your art and maybe in his presence. He doesn’t say anything and just meets your gaze across your counter to see you huffing about making him some french toast with a giggle. You may hide your disappointment in masked happiness so well, but the way your smile won't reach to a full curve will never be ignored by his eyes. Minute details may be surpassed with naked eyes, but after spending years with you playing hide and seek with him between the lines, he already knew the paths and directions your intentions and feelings will usually go.

After finishing dinner and you deciding not to divulge anything, Jungkook chooses to pull your blanket from your closet and drape it over your heads. The worn galaxies in its star printed fabric blankets you in reassuring comfort, a sanctuary you both found constellations back in high school whenever it just feels too good to leave everything behind. It will always be the closest space you could ever get while living in a suffocating world.

The softness of the cloth and the warmth of his arm he caressed your shoulders lulled your breathing to a noiseless slumber, head slumping against his shoulder. It’s far from peaceful when your face is scrunched but Jungkook thinks it’s better than seeing you suffer sleepless nights that have been getting worse when you’re stressed these days.

Jungkook picks up your limp form and carries you to your bedroom, lithe fingers tucking you under the sheets. With you asleep, he lets the birds in his heart sing in tremendous chorus as he presses a kiss on your forehead that automatically smoothened the tension your brows were holding.

He grabs the papers you both trailed on and arranges them on your desk when your small voice halts his movements.

"I'm feeling sad but here you are looking so..."

"What?"

“… not my fault you looked so eye candy earlier.”

It may be a wrong time but Jungkook can’t help but drop a little something when he knows you have a bad habit of blurting things you keep to yourself when you’re asleep. Back then, he used to poke fun at your weird habit but now when everything has changed, he will still tease you about that but he intends to find hope for the thorns of his anxiety poking his heart.

“Whose fault is it?”

“…Jeon Jungkook’s.”

That near-midnight, Jungkook escapes through your window when your RA made her rounds on your floor. He may have almost fallen on his bum but he thinks all his efforts for today are all worth it. He lays on his bed, the birds on his chest singing a ballad he never heard of before.

Epliogue

"So I heard you said I was so eyecandy huh?"

"When was that?!"

"I'm not gonna tell~"

"Jeon Jungkook, come back here!"

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

Text

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others Pt. 2

(Mind your Business)

M’Baku x Reader

*Part 1* *Part 3*

Plot: You and M’Baku have to be apart for a business trip you are taking. Leaving him sucks for you both, but career is important and he supports. But the trip is a lot more than a test of your value to your job, but to your relationship as well.

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Computer Love, interruption, disrespect.

*Previously*

You hadn’t texted M’Baku yet and it was a little later than you anticipated getting back. That fat ass would make for a great comfort to you but a FaceTime will have to do. You step out, toweling down and wrapping a robe around you. You sit on the bed, grabbing your phone up, and going to his name. It rings, and rings, which is odd because you thought he would be nipping at the bit to get in touch with you by now. You get a text then, ‘Hang on. I’ll call you right back’

You lay back on your pillow in annoyance, wondering what the hell he is doing. With the day you had, you still found time to call him, but here he is delaying things when you could be asleep.

Your phone rings and you pick it up, revealing his face smiling widely, sitting on the edge of you guys’ bed,

“Hello, my lady love! How are you? You look well, did you just shower?” He can’t hide his excitement which makes you feel rejuvenated with energy.

“I did just get out of the shower. I feel best now than I did all day.” You say letting out the deepest breath you’ve taken all day.

He furrows his brow, frowning, “I’m sorry (Y/N). Was it anything serious? There’s no shame if you have to come home early, you shouldn’t break yourself for this.” He says with paternal concern.

You shake your head, “No it was just a long day dealing with people, but I made it somehow. I don’t want to talk about it right now though. I miss you…”

You hear him groan in angst, “I miss you too, my heart. This place is colder without you, even with the record high temperatures.”

The summer has been sweltering, and you’re both kind of pansies about it. You smile weakly, feeling a little emotional but not wanting to show. You all have never been this far apart before and nothing about the trip has made this an easier transition.

“You look adorable in your bonnet, baby. Is that a new one?” He inquires.

You chuckle Cardi B-like, tugging it down a little further, “Yes, I don’t use my home bonnets in public areas so this is my travel bonnet. Just a cheap little thing.”

“Hmm, well you make it look very chic, my God! The birds out here are shaking.” You both giggle at his silliness. M’Baku never fails to make you feel like you won the lottery.

You guys pause for a moment just looking at each other through the screen. “I got the dishes done earlier.” He says, raising his eyebrows with a sly expression on his face.

“Is that right? Well they weren’t going to do themselves so…” You say cooly.

“Oh Hanuman! Why are you being cruel to me.”

“I’m not being cruel, just saying you did something that needed to be done. Do you need kudos for that?” You say, picking a piece of lint off your robe.

“That is true. When I was doing them, I thought about how you can never keep your hands to yourself while I can’t defend myself.” He says leaning forward, biting his plump bottom lip. “You come up behind me, grabbing my waist….”

“Yeah, and I’d gyrate on that ass while you’re doing them, yup!” Putting on an extra hood accent. You swear you more gangsta than him.

His whole face smiles at your antics, “You say, ‘They better be spotless or I’ll have to teach you not to cross me, eh?’ And you do a terrible Wakandan voice, I die every time!” M’Baku laughs with his whole body: eyes closed tightly, head shooting back, teeth on full display and mouth wide enough to impress a dentist.

“Whatever, I can take you any day. Have you screaming uncle in a minute, punk.”

M’Baku looks at you, leaning on the desk, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb, eyes glazed like his mind is somewhere else for a second.

“What’s up with you?” You ask.

He shrugs, “Oh nothing, if you haven’t thought of it by now, I might as well call it a night then.”

You squint at him suspiciously, “What the hell are you talking bout?”

He screws his face up while hunching before continuing, “It’s just that I thought you were going to give me a prelude to your thankfulness for me handling your chores...”

“Is that so? My chores? My diet doesn’t require nearly as much dishware to prepare so I don’t get that. But at any rate, I believe that was reserved for when I get back home.”

“Yes, but I need something to hold my motivation.” He says, drawing out his thoughts slowly “It’s very challenging to go through the day without you here, I’ve almost forgotten what you look like-” He squints, dramatically peeking at your on the screen.

“Oh please!” You jeer at him, laughing. “Don’t be dramatic, M’Bop.”

“Ohhh, and you have the nerve to call me that from a distance when I can’t get my hands on you, you are a tyrant.” He says, practically purring.

“I do what I want, and what I want right now... is for you to tell me how bad you want your hands on me.”

M’Baku gives a full belly laugh. “Oh really? You’re challenging me to go first eh?”

“It’s a demand, get it right.” You say with HBIC attitude in tow.

He nods, speechless, as he starts to sit up. “I could show you now,” he looks down at his lap, then quickly back up to you. “But like I said, I have almost forgotten you. Now, your voice is softly kissing my ears, but your body, your body? Is still a blur...” He says covering his eyes with one hand, reaching out for the other.

Shaking your head with a cheesing grin, “Well we can’t have that. Ok, what do you miss about this?”

“Your ear?” He questions as you tug at your lobe.

“Yes, I am showing you my body little by little so you can recall what you like about each piece.”

He shake his head smirking at your silliness. “Ok, my darling. Ah yes, my love’s ear. With it, she listens so intently to my stories regarding my day, my transgressions, and my achievements. Whilst holding you close, I whisper into it, intoxicated by the scent of your curls. Whenever I am close to it, I am closest to you”

You nod approvingly, “Mk, sir. Pretty good. What about...this.” Reaching your hand in front of your face, giving it the you-can’t-see-me shake.

Leaning back and rubbing his beard he says, “I have never know such strength from such small things. When my hand envelopes yours, I feel safer and more at ease despite the comparison of them. The purest feeling of being blessed overwhelms me when I hold it to my lips. And when you take the time to graze it along my face, my body, I am powerless and embraced with surrender.”

You look away from the screen a second as heat begins to catch your cheeks.

“Was that getting to be too much for you, darling?” He says grinning like the devil incarnate. “Oh hush, you know what the hell you tryna do!” Fanning yourself, you graze your fingers down your neck. “What about this?”

“Mmm, I think that’s your favorite actually, my love. The tenderness of your neck possesses me to drown my face into it like a lap dog.” He chuckles at the thought. “And your squeals of playful bliss in reaction is a treat to behold, and I wish to witness, over and over again. I’ve also left a many marks there, so it’s practically got my name on it.”

“Boy...stop!” You spout in fake protest because you knew it was true, tucking your mouth in frustrated embarrassment.

His sights are set straight on you as he rest his hands on his thighs, “I also miss those lips, the ones you are biting on now. Not only do they speak motivating orations to build me up, they know just where my weakest points are; using their power for my pleasure, bending me to my defeat.”

You feel your heartbeat starting to build, suddenly you are quite thirsty. You twist a little as an ache begins to build, “M’Baku…”

“Just like that, my love. Those same lips speak my name, in a way that makes my relatives back home sound ignorant in their pronunciation. It sounds most sincere coming from you.”

You cover your eyes as you feel sweet angst from the man you love. What you wouldn’t do to teleport to him and bring him in between you.

“Now what am I supposed to do with all that? Hm?” You angle your phone down as slowly untie the sash.

M’Baku laughs, lays one of his sizable hands on the crotch of his shorts, “Yes, I think that’s the most prose I ever got out before you’d pounce me to either shut me up or relieve your lust.”

You start at the top of your robe, revealing one of your breasts.

He lets out a low pitched, guttural moan, clutching at himself, “Is it cold, my love? Or just joyful of my presence?” M’Baku says.

“Mm, a little of both I think,” you say huskily as you squeeze your arms together, making a more dramatic cleavage, feeling around your rising peaks.

“I miss the way you react to me, when I'm caressing them. The shake of your body when I am speaking in tongues in reverence of their ethereal beauty.”

Closing your eyes, you imagine just that. His encompassing mouth smiling as he hovers over you, keeping his gaze locked on you as he lowers his tongue across your areola, before he siphons your soul out of your chest. You hear him groan for a moment and look down to see him having made himself more comfortable, shorts around his ankles. His thighs a perfect spread creating an almost exaggerated thickness of his thighs as he sits on the edge of the bed, beginning to stroke in front of you.

“You are so beautiful, beyond any measure in this world,” He say breathlessly, gripping the top of his hair in distraction to keep from busting too fast.

“ohh, I miss your hands being on me. Trailing my back when you think I’m asleep to arouse me. The grip you put on my hips when you’re filling me from the back.” You reach down and pet yourself at the thought, angling your device towards your center. “You see how you’ve got me right now, baby?”

M’Baku leans forward, rubbing his beard with hunger as he licks his lips instinctively. “This is better than the Food Network. You’re getting this riled up over me?”

You laugh a little at his remark, “All for you. Shine that dick up for me, baby. I need you to match this moisture.”

He reaches for y’alls personal lube and works it in. He makes the task look effortless, when you get a good cardio workout whenever you work his tool. His 6’5 frame is an obvious tell of what he works with, and it is a marathon, not a sprint to wear him out. The slicking sound of he made as polished his pipe just about sends you over the edge. “Ah, (Y/N), you’re holding back on me. I want to be inside you. Go within yourself so I can feel your walls surrounding me.”

You slide a couple digits inside of you, biting down your gasp as you look down at your man hypnotized by your body.

“I can practically taste your excitement, darling. My lips enveloping your clit as you buck in sweet agony.”

There is a thud in the background.

You sit a little straighter, “What was that?”

M’Baku shakes his head, “Don’t worry about that, probably a car door closing next door. I want you to come for me, quickly.”

You look down at the screen. M’Baku’s face is perspiring a little; you see the sweat on his neck and chest and you imagine your hands gripping his shoulders as his length pummels you.

“Ohhh, I wish you were inside of me now,” You gasp as you angle the phone to show your fingers penetrating your vulva.

“(Y/N), Hanuman’s sake, look at that full, pretty pussy. You’re making this too difficult for me, I can’t--”

Soon, you hear the door being banged on, the sound of barks causes you to drop the phone.

“M’BAKU!! What was that??!!” you yell, covering yourself before picking it back up.

“Uhh, uhh…” M’Baku, has his shorts back on, covering his front, talking at the door in yoruba. “I said give me 30 minutes at least!”

“What was that, M’Baku?? Do you have someone there?!”

He comes up on the camera, “(Y/N), I would not have a reason to lie to you. But I did omit something before I got --”

The door bursts open, four of his tribesmen come in, chanting some drunken song in yoruba.

“Oh my God, M’Baku! I told you not to have them up in there! You can’t follow my rules for one day?!”

M’Baku is speaking to them, pushing them back out of the room. One of them points down at him, saying something that makes the others laugh and wave at you through the screen. M’Baku, covers himself again, yelling at them and pointing out the door as they scatter.

Closing the door, M’Baku comes up to the screen, “(Y/N)...” He draws it out like a purr, trying to coax you into forgiveness.

“No! Don’t say my name like that, what the fuck was that about!”

He bends his head, sighing. “They came unannounced. I didn’t have a chance to turn them down since they were banging at the front door, barging in.”

“And you didn’t tell them no? I thought you were their alpha or whatever, they don’t listen to you?”

“Theeyyy dooo…” He says screwing up his face, “But I figured, they’d be gone before you called, and I lost track of time…”

“Why would you keep this from me? I may have been ok if you had just texted me with the heads up! I got my tits and ass all out, talking dirty, what if they heard??”

“Enough! They were wrapped up in their show downstairs, they didn’t even know I was talking to you. And as far as them coming over, you’d never go for it, I know you. When they are here, you bang pots and slam doors, catching the cleaning-bug as soon as they are there until they leave. You can’t stand them!”

“Because they eat us out of house and home, keep using up the toilet paper and when they leave, it’s like a damn hurricane hit the living room!”

He gives you a look of contempt, “Are you done? Really, because you are upsetting yourself more after the day you had with this non-problem.”

“Don’t fucking dismiss me, M’Baku. I just don’t wanna come home to a pigsty when I get back.”

“It’s not like it isn’t one when you’re here,” he says under his breath.

“Nigga WHAT?”

“Hanuman sake, please, can we calm down and get back to something more pleas--”

“Ask them for a show then!”

You hang up on him. No way in hell you bustin’ open after all that foolishness. M’Baku brought his entire crew to your spot on day one! Why wouldn’t he even tell you though, doing some cam sex while they are downstairs, is he crazy?

You lay under the covers pouting. Any fun you hoped to have on this trip is looking less likely by the minute. Now even your man is bringing problems on you.

M’Baku paces the floor a couple seconds after the call ended. He wonders if you have gone mad all of a sudden. To go from the throes of passion to biting his head off is a feat only you could master. There was no way he would be groveling for forgiveness right now. This was his house too, he had every right to have company over, no matter who it was. The Jabari are his lifelong mates, what sense does it make to have to ask permission for family or friends to come by.

He makes his way downstairs, to see only two of his friends left and they were heading out of the door.

“Akoje! What’s going on, why are you leaving?”

They look at each other a moment in the doorway, then back at him, “Come on, M’Baku, you need privacy, you should’ve just told us. Plus, we don’t need to be on your lady’s hitlist. Thought not being here would make it a chill night but she finds a way.” The other Jabari laughs at this.

M’Baku peers down at them, “Ok, keep the comments light, eh? But I finished with her, I didn’t say leave.”

The other Jabari starts now, “No, you did not finish….” causing him to be elbowed in the ribs by Akoje as he giggles.

“Alright, Enache, mind your business. That seemed to be the only problem today was no one minding their own business! I asked for half an hour!”

“Ya, to take a shower! But that was Enache’s fault, he wanted to play Uno, and couldn’t find the cards so he decided to sniff you out.”

Enache huffs in disagreement, “It was Ogoro! That’s why he left out so quick. He didn’t hear your water running so he just said, let’s ambush, he isn’t doing anything! I respect your relationship, M’Bop.” He says with puppy dog eyes.

M’Baku’s eyes practically jump out of his head at their knowledge of his pet name. “HOW DO YOU KNOW--” he kisses his teeth throwing his palm out in their direction. “ Oh whatever! And don’t go lying under my roof.”

Akoje is shocked, clutching his pearls, “Honest to Hanuman! It’s wonderful! We hadn’t seen you fall this hard under someone since the Panther!”

“All right! GET OUT!” M’Baku goads them out with his booming voice as they scatter laughing and barking out to their cars.

M’Baku leans on the door as he takes a deep breath. Suddenly he is exhausted, so it was probably for the best that the guys left. He walks over to sit on his couch. Chip bags open and remnants scattered on the table. Half drunken and empty beer bottles line the edge and carpet by the furniture’s legs. M’Baku leans forward rubs his face in frustration before getting up and going to the guest bathroom. He opens the door before quiky shutting it, clutching his nose. Whatever happened in there is hopefully flushed and just needing to air out, but a disaster definitely erupted.

M’Baku decides that the mess will have to wait until tomorrow, it was already approaching midnight and his job starts in the morning at 6 am. Heading up the stairs he makes his way to the bedroom to take a quick shower. After toweling off, he heads for the bed, covers feeling cool against every inch of his skin. His body begins to wind down from all of the sexual frustration and Jabari disrespect, but is not used to the extra space in his bed. He is still mostly on his side, but feels over to yours, imagining your curves as his own personal skyline. He reaches for his phone to check, but nothing is on it from you, just a couple of memes from the other Jabari clowning him endlessly. He sets it back down, turning toward where you would be. He was already remorseful, especially since you were right, but he didn’t want to bar his guys from visiting, that is just rude. He takes a deep breath, drifting off to hopes of tomorrow being better.

*Part 3*

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

T’akia

Commencement Day

The Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones @hairhattedghooligan @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @universalbri

#mbaku x reader #m'baku x reader #m'baku #mbaku #black panther #marvel #fanfic #black panther fanfic #marvel fanfic #mbaku x you #m'baku x you #mbaku fanfic #m'baku fanfic #writing

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herelaymythoughts · 3 years

Text

Preface

Artemis: It’s ok to care a lot. To care too much. I think it’s really sweet that you care so deeply about everyone in your life. I don’t find it silly at all. I don’t think you’re a stupid girl. I don’t think you’re weak and I don’t think you should change this about yourself. Make a million playlists for a million different heartbreaks because at the end of your life, wouldn’t you rather have those memories to hold on to? Remember them? Know that you allowed yourself to feel such depth? The Fowl: Janus tells me that I’m looking for love in the wrong places, and I feel like I’m wasting my emotions, time, energy, and grief. Artemis: So what? So what if you are? Even if it comes from a misguided place those feelings and emotions are still real. If you’re looking for the Osaka Castle in Kyoto you won’t find what you’re looking for but you may stumble upon the Fushimi Inari Taisha, something equally fascinating and deserving of exploration. Are you going to wallow because you didn’t find what you were looking for? Do you throw your hands up and go home or do you climb it and appreciate the things you find along the way? The Fowl: That’s a good one. I’m mad at how good that metaphor is. But I still feel that they’re just a bunch of misguided steps that could have been avoided. Shiva tells me that I seek discomfort and stress because it’s the only condition I actually feel comfortable in. Artemis: So that’s something you work on not something you should invalidate or feel bad about. It’s not your fault that you are like this. It’s not your fault. The Fowl: But I am so self-destructive. And other-destructive. I feel like a tornado who can’t stop hurting everyone and everything in her path including herself. Artemis: A tornado forms due to the build-up of the pressure of a million gusts of wind. A tornado doesn’t wish to form herself. It’s not the tornado’s fault. It’s not your fault. The Fowl: I feel like I’m too old to be listening to Lorde. Artemis: You’re never too old to listen to Lorde. The Fowl: Really? Artemis: Really. The Fowl: I feel fat. I am fat. Artemis: You’re not fat. How is it even possible that you feel fat? The Fowl: I don’t know. I felt the most beautiful when I was underweight. I like the anorexic look. Artemis: But anorexia is a disease; why would you want to look diseased? You look and you are so healthy right now. Full of life and power and energy. The Fowl: But I was more beautiful then. Artemis: *gives up* The Fowl: I’m addicted to heartbreak. Artemis: Yes, yes you are. And you go to great lengths to find and manufacture it in your head baby. You use it to self-soothe. But it’s alright. It’s not your fault. It’s the only way in which you existed in your childhood: heartbroken. All you experienced was heartbreak, all you knew was heartbreak. You don't know anything else. The only things you knew were fear, guilt, and shame. You have no idea how sincerely happy you have the opportunity, the right to be. But you’ll get there one day. The Fowl: A stable relationship could never fulfill me the way a situationship doomed from the start could. Artemis: And that’s why you go after all these unavailable men. Physically, emotionally, worse when it’s both. Because you already know how it ends and there’s nothing you crave more than the heartbreak. And that’s why you’re so scared of commitment because you know that it’ll be the complete opposite of what you know and you’re afraid of being out of your comfort zone, afraid of letting yourself find happiness. Afraid of breaking the chains that have held you since before you were born. You’re not gonna wake up one day and decide that today’s the day you’re ready to commit. That it’s been 3-5 years since you said that maybe you’ll be ready in 3-5 years. Oh baby you have so much to learn and so much room to grow. You always have and you always will. The Fowl: Do you think that people who were loved properly as children can be artists? Artemis: I don't know. I mean they sure can be and maybe I'm just romanticizing trauma but I feel that having no trauma limits the degrees of intensity to which you can feel. Thus, those who’ve experienced the lowest lows can too depict the highest of highs. Are all those who are traumatized artists? No. Does it hurt? Definitely not. The Fowl: Wow. That makes sense actually. But then again you’re just a figment of my imagination, so I have no idea if that actually has any merit. Artemis: You can’t discount us like that. You love having conversations with me. The Fowl: I know I do. Higher highs, lower lows, but it’s only fun for a while before you realize that all you want eventually is stability right? Artemis: Yeah, but you’re not there yet. You’re getting there but admit it Lucia you love this feeling. You love this self-induced, subconsciously orchestrated heartbreak. You fucking love it. Lucia: I really do. The Fowl: Do you think that people want to read what I have to write? Artemis: They absolutely do. You know this. They’ve told you. The Fowl: I know but I feel so silly. Artemis: We’ve been over this. How many people do you think exist who are like you? The Fowl: Probably tons. Artemis: Probably. And the way you are able to articulate exactly as all those people feel? Think about how many people feel alone. How many people don’t have the incredible friends that you have who help you through this? Think of how much your writing could help them. Your writing has so much value. “Flaws, Chaos, Wreckage and All” That’s what you wanted to call it right? Plus you're hot. It doesn’t even need to be that good. The Fowl: Ok, insulting. Artemis: I’m your favourite person to talk to, aren’t I? The Fowl: Yeah, probably. Do you really think that people want to hear what I have to say? Artemis: Remember when we realized that we need to live as if we’re rich white men? Do you think that a rich white man ever doubts whether people want to hear what he has to say? A white man you know is writing a TREATISE. That white man thinks that what he has to say has enough value to be considered a TREATISE, darling. Darling me oh my. Do you know why all philosophers are rich white men? It’s because they’re the only ones with enough confidence to publish what they write, baby. Human greatness rests on humanity’s willingness and ability to communicate it. The Fowl: Wow, Jesus you’re convincing. Ok well. I already proclaimed it and Dionysus has already promised to buy at least 10 copies when I publish it so. Artemis: You already spoke it into the world baby. Self publish like Rumi, Su Shi, Rupi Kaur, and all the other greats. *The author would like to make a note that the above phrase is meant to be read sarcastically* *The author would also like to note that this is, in fact, an homage to Hofstadter* The Fowl: Ok, so what’s the first step? Should I wait until I have enough good things to say? Artemis: No, you’ve already outgrown some of the stuff you’ve written in the past. Why do you think that there will come a point when you have gathered enough experiences worth reading about and that’s when you’re going to be ready to publish? You should only feel that way on your death bed. Your life is going to keep happening and boy, I know yours is a damn interesting one. Filled with so much drama and chaos and love and loss. Remember what you’ve been told: “You are loved from all corners of the world.” The Fowl: Ok, so I just do it then? It’s not... Artemis: Why do you even have doubts? The Fowl: Because I don’t believe in myself. Artemis: I believe in you. And I’m literally the goddess of wisdom. The Fowl: And I’m just a chick. And a fool. Artemis: That was funny. The Fowl: Why can’t you just laugh? Why announce it? Artemis: There are levels to this shit ok? The Fowl: Wait hold on Athena is the goddess of wisdom.

Artemis: Wait fuck you’re right how did I fuck that up? Rick Riordan would be so disappointed.

The Fowl: Whatever. Back to the thing. We’re calling it “Flaws, Chaos, Wreckage and All” right?

Artemis. I’m not writing this book, you are. Is that what you want to call–” The Fowl: Yes! That is exactly what I want to call my anthology. Artemis: Darling you’re misusing that term. The Fowl: Then what do we call it? A book of poetry or prose or writing doesn’t quite cover it. Artemis: Call it a treatise. A treatise on emotion. The Fowl: Holy fuck I fucking love it. “Flaws, Chaos, Wreckage and All: A Treatise on Emotion” by Y. H. Zhang. FUCK I LOVE IT HOLY FUCK. Artemis: I’m glad you like it, dear. 🥺 I’m very proud of you, dear. You’re one of the smartest people I know. One of the smartest, most self-aware, most conscientious, most courageous, most loving, most thoughtful, most beautiful, most righteous people that I know. You really really don’t give yourself enough credit. The Fowl: That’s a lot coming from you, Artemis. Artemis: And I mean it. I mean every bit. See how I didn’t include some things like “selfless” or “kind”? Because we’re still working on that. But the ones I said I mean with full sincerity. The Fowl: I don’t know how to handle all this praise. Artemis: Accept it, dear it’s yours. Anyone who knows you could not be clearer of this. The Fowl: Hehe yeah, I think you’re right. My friends do praise me a lot. But I think I tune it out because I don’t love myself. Artemis: We all do. It’s a process. The Fowl: This conversation seems drawn out. Artemis: Does it? Or are you simply uncomfortable being praised? The Fowl: ummmmmhhMmm Artemis: Because I’ve just started. I can go on and on for days about how magnificent of a person you are. I mean I can also go on and on for days about the mistakes you’ve made and the people you’ve hurt too. But that’s the beauty of it. If you’re not making mistakes you’re not learning. You’re not going out of your comfort zone. You’re capping the level of your opponent, Life, at only 30 exp. If you’re always winning at life you’re not advancing in it. I once read an article that said that you should be failing at least half of the goals you set. Because if all your goals are within reason and achievable, then you’re not setting them high enough. You’re selling yourself short. So become a poet, and a musician, and a choreographer and dancer, and get a Norwegian green card and a regular green card and have four kids and get married and stay married. And have your own flower shop, publish and write and read to your heart’s content, be an equestrian, surf and dive and break the world record for women’s freediving. Speak nineteen languages and fall in love and stay in love and remain in love. And be buried under a tree that your great-grandkids can play under. And raise kind, loving children and cook vegan food for all your friends and have Lucia’s Club be a thing and love so much. And love so much. And love so much. The Fowl: That was really really intimate. It makes me want to publish even more. Artemis: It should! The Fowl: Wow, you really are just as insightful and knowledgeable about life as any of the men I’ve put on pedestals. Artemis: I am literally a statue placed on top of a pedestal. The Fowl: I think I need to apologize to you. Artemis: I’m listening. The Fowl: I’m sorry that I don’t believe in you enough. I’m sorry that I don’t love you enough. I’m sorry that I treat you in any way other than with kindness and love and compassion. I’m sorry that you’re the last person I’m apologizing to. I’m sorry that I’m going to keep hurting you despite knowing all this. But I want you to know that I’m trying, every day, to love you more. Trying, I promise you. Sometimes it’s easier and sometimes it’s oh so difficult but I’m sorry and I promise you, despite how scary it is to make that commitment, to keep loving you more and more every day. To console you, to trust you, to believe in you, to nurture you, to nourish you, to give you everything you need to succeed, even though I’m not even sure what that means. I promise to take care of you. Mentally, spiritually, physically, emotionally, intellectually. I promise to not let you get carried away with your playtime, to get involved with things that are bad for you, and to cultivate the things that are good for you. Because you really are yourself such a treasure. You yourself are as brilliant and incredible, and beautiful, and deserving of love, deserving of care, as any of the men you cherish. I am so sorry that I’ve been bad to you. Artemis: Thank you. It’s not your fault. It’s all written in the stars or in a book somewhere. I’m really glad that you can acknowledge this. I’m also really proud of you. You’re young to have realized this. Many people go their entire lives without ever even meeting their Artemis. The Fowl: I know, I’m so, so lucky to have you. Artemis: I’m lucky to have you.

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witchymarvelspacecase · 7 years

Text

Voiceless Pt 2

Summary: (Reader Insert) Reader is a mutant/inhuman with a powerful voice (works a little like a banshee / a little like a siren). She’s had it a little tough since discovering her powers. She is found and taken in by Tony Stark and the remaining Avengers after the events of Civil War

Word Count: 1038

Warnings: Typos (sorry)

A/N: I’m not 100% sure what the pairing is on this one yet but there is some serious Dad!/Big Brother!Tony happening.

A giant “Thank you” to @17sullivan who read my idea for this fic, and is an all around wonderful person. Thank you for the push love!

Voiceless Masterlist

Not my Gif, credit to the owner

Settling into the compound took some time, it’s not that it was uncomfortable cause it seriously wasn’t, the problem was getting used to living around a bunch of superheroes; people you knew about, idolized and felt so inferior too. It also didn’t help that you were the sole source of estrogen in the building; you weren’t sure if Vision even had hormones per-se, but if he did, estrogen wasn’t the main one. For a little while, Colonel Rhodes (who insisted that you called him Rhodey) wasn’t at the compound; with his back being so seriously injured, he spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital. Occasionally Peter would visit, but he was still in high school so his visits weren’t frequent. With only Tony and Viz around, you thought you would have a lot of time to yourself… nope. No, that, that didn’t happen.

Tony seemed to have practically adopted you by the time you had finished unpacking your last box. He not only helped you move your boxes into your new space, but he helped you unpack, and even organize. From then on, you spent a good deal of your time with him in his lab; you were only able to really grasp about a third of what he talked about, but he seemed so happy to have company, and genuinely liked to have you help every once in awhile. You took to bringing a notebook to the lab with you; you wrote all the time that Tony tinkered, some times you wrote down things that he mentioned to look up later, sometimes you just wrote whatever nonsense was floating around your head, but more often than not, you wrote songs.

Funny thing about being able to sing like you could, sometimes you wished that there was a song that really fit what you wanted to convey; not that the poor souls you turned your powers on could really comprehend what you were singing, but you could, and for some reason, it bothered you that sometimes you didn’t have the right songs. You’d never had any formal voice training; when you were younger it hadn’t seemed necessary, and once your powers developed, it became an impossibility; so you didn’t write songs really, but you wrote the words, and most of the time, the music flowed through your mind as you matched it’s tune to your words. You had pages and pages of lyrics in random notebooks throughout your space, you never shared them with your new housemates, just as you’d never shared them with anyone before; they always seemed incomplete or silly to you. Not that they stayed unseen for long.

Some people would assume that Tony was the nosy one of the group, they would be wrong. Vision had a nasty habit of popping up wherever you’d least expect him, and seemed to almost delight (if he was capable to that feeling) in surprising you. So really, you should have anticipated him being the one to ask about your notebooks first.

Tony had been hunting round, almost manically, for a notebook of his for the better part of an hour, you were helping him to look, but it refused to turn up.

“Perhaps you should check amongst your notebooks Y/N, it could have easily been mistaken amidst them,” Vision supplied as he appeared in the room right behind you. You startled slightly, still unused to his habits.

“I’m not sure Viz, Tony’s notebooks are a lot more full than mine,” you laughed, looking to Tony who shrugged and continued to look around, now flipping over couch cushions.

“I’d say your notebooks are rather full as well Y/N; you have an impressive amount of pages filled in each.”

“You been snooping Viz?” You turned to face him with an eyebrow raised.

“I wouldn’t characterize it quite like that, no. I was simply looking for you, so I checked your room, but you weren’t there. One of your notebooks was open on your desk, and a pile of them sat on the floor next to your desk. I just took notice of them and left to search for you elsewhere.”

“Happen to take note of what was written in the notebook?” Tony asked, his attention momentarily diverted from his search, “She won’t tell me what she does all the time she’s writing in them.”

You froze slightly, then turned to look at Vision who was about to answer Tony. You met his gaze and leveled what Rhodey called your “you better not” look at him. Unfortunately, Vision was still quite bad at reading facial expressions as social cues,

“Yes, it seemed to be several lines of prose, poetry perhaps.” You rolled your head back on your shoulders at this and closed your eyes. “Let the hazing commence…”

“Oh-ho-ho, poetry is it?” Tony chortled in a teasing tone, now completely forgetting his search for his own notes, and fully invested in your torment.

“It’s not poetry Viz, they’re lyrics,” you corrected, grumbling.

Tony cocked his head and blinked a few times before nodding, “that makes more sense. What’cha writing songs about kido?”

“Nothing really. Sometimes, when I would sing, I just wished I had songs to fit the situation, so I started writing some down,” you answered with a shrug.

“Ever finished any?”

“No, I don’t actually know who to write songs really, I can’t even read music.”

Tony looked a little confused at this as he began to right the couch cushions and then sat down, facing you.

“Why did you not learn? Surely there are tutors for such things,” Vision asked, also tilting his head a bit, “it seems that would be beneficial to you.”

“Yes Viz, there are vocal coaches, but, well once the powers developed, it wasn’t really an option, I could have hurt someone.”

Tony nodded at this and the discussion closed as he resumed his search for the missing notebook. You took a moment to remind Vision that he shouldn’t share people’s private information without their consent, and went to your room to see if in fact you had accidentally taken one of Tony’s notebooks.

The next day, when you went to the lab, there was a book of blank music paper, and a beginners music theory book waiting in your usual spot.

Please let me know what you think, I would LOVE feedback!!!

#tony stark #vision #james rhodes #iron man #war machine #dad!tony #big brother!tony #voiceless #mutant reader #inhuman reader #avengers #avengers fic #marvel #marvel fic

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c9sneaksen-blog · 7 years

Text

on a heartstring [3]

Word Count: 2229

Song that Zach’s listening to is “Waving Through a Window” from the broadway production (and masterpiece) Dear Evan Hansen.

need to catch up before jumping in? part one / part two

—

I’ve learned to slam on the break,

Before I even turn the key…

“Zach?”

Before I make the mistake,

Before I lead with the worst of me…

“Zach!”

The boy in question pulled the earbuds out of his ears, music blaring even still– he turned the volume down. “Oh, shit, hey,” he said, quickly tossing the white and blue cords around his phone.

And the boy who had, in fact, questioned the boy in question, was no one but Zach’s best buddy since grade school– Will Hartman. William Hartman, in full-name-actuality, but what kind of dickass wanted to be called William?

Will had unruly, dark brown hair– a whole head of it, in fact– that he had been growing out since freshman year. This dark hair was contrasted by the sly and clever green of his eyes– kind of like a fox’s, Zach had always thought, though he didn’t really know why– it was probably the whole sly and clever look to them. They were once framed with the snide and bold presence of glasses, but, come junior year, Will had swapped them out in favor of contacts. All of this coupled with broad shoulders and a broad chest, and, in contrast, a slendering lower half.

Basically, Will was a stud.

Rolling his eyes, Will approached Zach– now that he was going to receive a response. “Having a little too much fun there, bud?” He flicked the screen of Zach’s phone as he said this.

Now it was Zach’s turn to roll his eyes– which he promptly did. “Why you gotta ruin my jam like that?”

As though he were just called out by the fun police, Will raised his hands in the air. “I’m just saying, you’re gonna ruin your hearing if you keep listening to music that loud.” This is a joke, of course, on his part– to an outsider, it may sound like a genuine, altruistic concern. In reality, Will had listened to MCR just last week over at Zach’s house, turned the volume up, and headbanged his head so intensely that he actually got a headache and had to lie down for a couple of minutes.

It wasn’t quite satire. It wasn’t quite sarcasm. It was just Will.

Zach heaved just the beginning bit of a laugh. “Okay, but I need to get to Drama, so fuck off.” And so Will fucked off (but only after running a hand swiftly through Zach’s hair, leaving him to fix it), and he continued the trek to Drama.

Give them no reason to stare…

No slipping up if you slip away,

So I’ve got nothing to share,

No, I’ve got nothing to say…

—

Zach paused his music once he pushed through those tall, oak doors– mild must, something like old books in a dinky little library– pervaded his nostrils as he sat down. He felt the old, rough and tough cushion sink beneath his weight.

“Would you look at that– it’s the very last techie! Almost thought you weren’t going to make it,” Mr. C boomed from the stage, his usual spot upon it taken with his crossed legs. Zach simply smile, and offered a little wave– Mr. C never reprimanded anyone for being late; no matter how late you were, he would never punish you. (“You kids have got a whole lot of better things to do than to sit and do nothing for an hour– and if you asked me, being late for one thing just means you’re early for the next thing, right?”)

Zach plugged his earbuds back into his ears, and turned the volume up to a reasonable level, at which he could hear both his music and Mr. C.

As Zach continued to (lightly) jam to the masterpiece that was Dear Evan Hansen, and being in an auditorium, of course, he began to wonder about what the Drama team was going to perform this year. The past four years had been sprinkled with the occasional classics– fairy tales in the fall, and then something a bit obscure in the spring. Zach wondered where Mr. C even found out about all of these different plays.

It’d be cool to do something fantasy-related, Zach supposed to himself. There would be many things of interest to do with the lights and the sound– and that was always fun. There wasn’t really many things quite interesting with a realistic fiction sort of story. Sometimes, Zach wondered why people bothered with the genre at all– to have the capability to craft a story beyond that of even the mechanics of the world you live in– and you decide to place your story in a completely mundane, ordinary town, with ordinary characters, and ordinary conflicts?

I guess it’s an actor thing. The story must be what makes it interesting, Zach decided to himself. And it’s not as though it wasn’t interesting to him– he just supposed, and rightly so, that maybe it must be a little bit different for actors and actresses.

Abruptly, Zach’s attention and internal conversation was interrupted by a loud clap– a clap that had been done by Mr. C, up in one of the mics that belonged to the school. “Alright, everybody! Gather ‘round as prose rolls off of my tongue– and by that, I mean, let’s talk about preparations for what we’re performing this year.”

Immediately, this had gotten people excited and, had it not been Mr. C, would have gotten people talking. However, Mr. C had never talked about what the Drama team would be performing so early in the year– on the second day, for Christ’s sake. And people definitely wanted to hear about it.

“Alright, just before I hop into this– no, I’m not going to announce what we’re performing yet.”

This was met by a chorus of groans and moans from the huge sea of theatre kids and tech kids, and understandably so.

“You weasel!”

“Oh, sit down, Jack!” Mr. C hushed the crowd of disappointed kids, settling a calm over the auditorium. “Listen, I’ve been working on it all summer for you guys. I’ll tell you soon! And by soon, I mean probably next week.” Seeing the dissatisfaction on his students’ faces, he continued, “There’s many things to prepare, even now! And many things to be acquainted with! Including people– speaking of which, why don’t you kids talk to each other? You’re all so strange. Socialize! Be one with society!” Then, as though he had just suddenly remembered something, he sprinted backstage– students could hear a door opening, and then closing chaotically.

This was a regular occurrence.

Zach supposed he could go and be with his crew. Although, somehow, it felt as though this simple interaction with familiarity could not satisfy his weirdly specific socialization needs at the moment. God, this is what he gets for listening to broadway music in between periods.

He had two modes of being. Zach, and High School Trope Zach. And HST Zach yearned, quite constantly, for something interesting to happen to him– something out of the ordinary and irregular from his usual routine. He couldn’t help it. Maybe it was from the music, maybe it was because he had spent so much time in the auditorium, so much time stepping upon the creaky floorboards stained with stories, but now he wanted one of his own; a story to call his– something cathartic, something impactful, and something world-tilting.

Zach felt something cold brush against his hand.

“Ayy,” chimed a voice to his left. He glanced up from his phone– to meet seagreen-blue eyes accompanied with dirty blond hair.

“Oh,” is all that comes out of his mouth– and then he realizes he should probably say something that resembled more of a greeting, “hey.”

Jensen leaned back in his seat. Zach was becoming more and more aware of an actual, physical presence of another person next to him– but it was weird. This student was cold– not emitting heat like another body. Well, not to say he’d never sat next to somebody that was cold– but this was different.

And what about it is different? He questioned himself– and received no answer. He supposed it was just a thing you felt. Sometimes, things were different, and for no particular reason; and, for no particular reason, this was one of those different situations.

“So that guy over there called your teacher a weasel?” Jensen observed, pointing over to a rather boisterous student on the right wing of the auditorium. He stated this observation slowly, Zach noticed. Well, he’s from Denmark, right? I guess English isn’t his first language.

Zach flared his nostrils a bit– his body wanted to laugh– his mind didn’t. It was weird. “Yeah. That’s Jack, and, uh, he’s always like that.” He paused. “And Mr. C’s your teacher too, you know.”

Jensen just shrugged. “I don’t think I got your name?”

Zach unplugged his earbuds from his ears, and paused his song.

“It’s Zach.” For a moment, Zach considered taking a risk– a social risk, at that– and he wasn’t really sure why he was so… teenager-y today. It was probably the broadway music. “And you’re Jensen, since ‘Nicolaj’ is hard to say, I guess?”

He watched as a silly grin tugged at the ends of Jensen’s lips, like lightning tearing open a swarm of murky, gray clouds. “Yeah, that was pretty fuck– that was pretty dumb of me to say, right?”

He curses, Zach noted in his head. This was a safe one, like Will– he could let his swears fly free around him.

And he did have an accent. Jensen did a good job of keeping it hidden, tucked beneath years of studying and, he supposed, he must have been around Americans at one point, because he did a good job of keeping up an American accent.

There was something nice in the fact that his tongue-heavy Danish accent came out when he was happy– or, at least, expressing something of resemblance to happiness. Zach couldn’t quite put his investigative finger on it, but it was just nice.

“I mean,” Zach began, returning to the conversation at hand, “it wasn’t an unfortunate introduction.” Now he’s grinning. And now both of them are grinning at each other– like total weirdos. This is weird, Zach proceeded to note to himself, this is really fucking weird. He didn’t really have a clue of what to do now– is he supposed to laugh, is he supposed to keep grinning, should he say something– he was, and he swears that he’s not typically this level of unsure and awkward, at a bit of a loss. And he didn’t hate it.

“Okay, dear children! I’m back!” Mr. C bellowed from the very back of the stage, casually sauntering his way up to the front. “You all like my little walk there? Okay, I– whatever– anyways.” He extended an arm, and pointed out a large group of tech kids– the upcoming tech freshmen mingling with the upperclassmen– “You all! The sacred tech crew! It’s really early in the year. Which means: there’s no reason to stay after today!” Mr. C removed his arm from the air, though his direction still lingered in the mildly musty air. “But, I know you guys are all technological weirdos. Therefore, if you’d like to check up on equipment, you can go right ahead!”

“Is he always this way?” Jensen inquired, eyes temporarily leaving the stage– instead exploring the rest of the auditorium, briefly, before returning their attention to the peculiar teacher upon the semicircle stage.

“Hell yeah.” Zach replied.

“Seriously, though, you guys don’t have to.” Mr. C furrowed his eyebrows in such a way that made it clear he was about to launch into a bit of a digression, as he often did. “Don’t you kids have parties to go to? Hot dates to elope with?”

Zach took a moment to allow his eyes to scan the room themselves. His eyes passed over many things, one of the first being his newly-gained acquaintance, Mr. C, the missing stage lights, the stage lights that needed to a new bulb (or at least some improvement– they were getting a bit dim), the transitional shadows between backstage and the front stage.

“Ah, maybe not… You’re all good kids. Well, then, don’t you kids have homework to do?” Regardless of whether or not Mr. C was about to launch into another digression, or discuss something else, it did not matter– as the bell had rung at the exact moment his sentence had ended. “Oh, wow, okay– so that’s the bell! And I’ll see all of you tomorrow!”

In a swift motion, Jensen just about jumped out of his seat, snatched up his bag, and headed out before Zach could say anything more.

He felt… bizarre. Today was a weird day, after all– an early announcement about the Drama team’s performance? All of that Dear Evan Hansen and introspection… even if for a brief moment. Not to mention his latest encounter with the newest student.

Peculiarly recalling Mr. C’s words, Zach turned, grabbed his phone and earbuds, plugged them in, and began to walk down the aisles upon aisles of red-worn seats in the auditorium.

He’s got a hot date for sure– a hot date with all of the shit equipment in this auditorium.

Step out, step out of the sun,

If you keep getting burned.

#submission #fan work #Sneaksen fic #tianhuo #on a heartstring (3/15)

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