#It would be like a collection of drabbles or short one shots
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Phantomfam fanfiction where the kuroshitsuji manga is a tv show and the actors of o!Ciel and the servants are like family and the older ones take care of o!Ciel and Finny since they're The KidsTM. In this au the actors have a personality that's basically the same as the Characters they're playing, wich shouldn't be possible in real life but this is a fanfiction so stfu
#It would be like a collection of drabbles or short one shots#that is like 'behind the scenes' and interviews with the cast#its based on the concept of those ovas the anime did where they speak like if the anime was a live action show#kuroshitsuji#black butler
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COMPASS
bad boy!Sanemi ā¢ gang AU ā¢ NSFW
A/N: Peach?? Not having any self control when it comes to writing a fic?? Itās more likely than you think.
This was supposed to be a bad boy!Sanemi takes your virginity drabble that spiraled into a meta-analysis of Sanemiās self hatred that then blew up into a fic with plot. All of those elements are still present but surprise!! Enjoy 24k words of my brain rot.
Inspired by @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701 ās wonderful meta analysis of Sanemiās self hatred and his scars.
CW: 24k ā¢ explicit sexual content ā¢ MDNI ā¢ gang-related violence ā¢ mentions of blood and broken bones ā¢ mentions of murder/death ā¢ loss of virginity ā¢ creampie ā¢ vaginal fingering ā¢ some angst
I have plenty more of this AU written, so if yāall want more, just let me know š«”
MASTERLIST HERE
There are three rules to surviving life in the Corps.
The first is simple: once youāre in, youāre in.
Never outwardly confirm or deny rumors; let others talk, but donāt even think about opening your fucking mouth about the things you see or the whispers you hear.
And donāt be stupid enough to think you can cling onto any vestiges of your old life. Thereās no splicing your life within the Corps with the one youād had before. No separation. Youāve whored yourself to their cause, and for better or worse, youāre there until either someone important says otherwise or you end up in a morgue.
This is especially true for someone like Sanemi, so hopelessly entrenched within the organization that heād allowed himself to be branded at the age of seventeen upon his ascension from rank-and-file street member to full-blown Hashira ā the elite of the Corps, just short of the higher-ups who ran it.
The hot sear of iron between his shoulder blades had hurt like hell, but it was a welcome pain. A reminder that heād not only outlived his father, but had actually made an impact, enough to be noticed and entrusted with more strenuous duties.
Each Hashira is assigned to a particular field. Uzui, silver haired, boisterous and extravagant, deals in bodies ā mostly women, but men too, and he runs all of the strip clubs and escort services west of center city. Kocho, a child prodigy in chemistry, leads an intricate narcotics network.
And then thereās Sanemi: the debt collector.
Largely monetary debts ā collecting on behalf of loan sharks, gambling debts, or that which is owed to his fellow Hashira, when their customers forget that there are no friends in business.
But the brand seared into his flesh has nothing to do with money ā it is a reminder that above all, he is to ensure debts of another kind are paid.
Life debts.
In the three years since his initiation, Sanemi has only had to carry out this oath twice. Both had been scum, responsible for the deaths of innocents.
Their executions had been quick and without fuss ā or much mess. A quick trip to an overpass abridging the Wisteria River. A march to the barrier in the dead of night, when no other cars were out and about to see or hear pleading sobs and bargains for their pathetic lives. A bullet to the head would quiet them, and Sanemi would let the rapids below take care of the clean up for him. Job done.
But even though the spray of their brains hadnāt touched him, their blood still stains Sanemiās hands.
He will never be able to wash them clean.
But this is the life he chose, so Sanemi will endure the consequences ā for the sake of his brother, the only living person on earth he gives a damn about. For whom heāll do anything ā be anyone ā if it means Genya does not have to pick up a gun and sell himself to the very gang that owns his elder brother.
The second rule is simpler: no patterns. Patterns signal comfort and comfort may as well be a target on your back, begging for someone to come and take their shot (or several).
And finally, the third and arguably the most important rule, is donāt get attached. Keep your circle small so thereās less collateral to be used against you ā against the organization that owns you.
This rule applies to both Corps members and civilians alike.
For the longest time, Sanemi Shinazugawa found Rule Three to be the easiest one to follow. He has his brother and no one else. His parents are dead; he has no friends beyond those in the Corps with him, and he knows better than to get overly invested in any of them. His inner circle is as tight as it can get.
But then heād chosen your bookstore to hide in and thatās when everything falls apart.
āFuckinā Christ,ā Sanemi mutters, anxious eyes tracking the large hand on his watch as it ticks the seconds by.
They were late.
The job was simple, and well within Sanemiās capabilities. Maeda, a local dealer in stolen goods, had run up a sizeable bill at one of Uzuiās joints that heād yet to pay. And while the slippery lech was quick to come sniffing whenever news spread that Iguro, a fellow Hashira, had managed to hijack a semi-truck full of luxury items, he was surprisingly difficult to connect with when it came time for him to pay for company he couldnāt get elsewhere.
He glanced down at his bruised, swollen knuckles and smirked. Sanemi couldnāt say he loved that his worth was measured in the number of bones he could break, or the amount of teeth he could punch out, but heād be lying if he said he didnāt relish the chance to smash the pervertās face in whenever the opportunity arose. Nor could he deny the rush of satisfaction heād felt when heād thrown open the steel door of the Maedaās small office, crowbar in hand, and watched the snot-nosed pervert piss himself, stumbling over his words as heād begged for mercy Sanemi hadnāt been hired to give.
The stupid, greasy fuck.
By the time heād finished, Maeda had been little more than a quivering, helpless lump curled in on himself on the sticky, slate floor. His office had been left in shambles, drawers yanked out and emptied, only to be thrown aside (or cracked over the verminās back as he sobbed). But heād had found the money, right down to the last dollar, just as he knew he would.
And thatās how Sanemi finds himself standing in the alley tucked behind Maedaās small warehouse, Uzuiās payment split into two rolls that heād shoved down into boots. All that was left was for the two junior Corps members heād brought along for watch to bring the car around, and then theyād return to the abandoned factory that served as their headquarters.
Normally, this would have been a solo job, and Sanemi would already be on his bike, speeding off to safety. But heād received an order to take along two, new Hinoe so they could get experience with higher level jobs.
Conveniently, his instructions had omitted the part the fact that the two lugs were utterly useless, bumbling idiots, contrary to what their recent promotions otherwise suggested.
Because neither of the two juniors are anywhere to be found. Nor is there any sound signaling that his getaway ride is approaching.
Sharp, lavender eyes scan the alley before him, but to his dismay, it remains empty ā disquietingly so.
Leave it to a couple of rookies to set his teeth on edge.
Sanemiās eyes drop down to follow the large hand of his watch as yet another minute ticks by. Itās been six minutes and their window had only allowed for four.
He knows how to be patient when the circumstances call for it, but now is not one of those times.
One minute, he decides, shifting his weight between his feet. They get one more fucking minute and then he splits ā
A sudden screech of tires at the opposite end of the alley makes his stomach flip. Sanemi looks up just in time to see his escape car grind to a sharp halt, its rear jolting up as the driver slams on the brakes.
The passenger door flings open, and one of the Hinoe stumbles out, his feet barely connecting with the pavement before the car guns away, the side door flapping open.
The familiar howl of police sirens accompanied by distant shouts is enough for Sanemi to know this simple little debt collection has now gone tits-up.
āPigs!ā The Hinoe who stumbled out of the getaway car calls to him. āPigs!ā
āShit,ā Sanemi growls. No doubt Maedaās bruised ego sold them out. He shouldāve taken the time to smash the assholeās phone.
Heāll be dealt with later ā and with relish. But right now, Sanemi needs to get the fuck away.
Part of following Rule Three means not worrying about your fellow comrades when the cops come. None of them are stupid enough to actually risk talking to law enforcement about the Corpsā operations, but the fewer of them who get caught, the better.
So Sanemi takes off, adrenaline pumping fast and jot in his veins as he hears the swine behind him split off. He canāt be sure, but he can make out two, maybe three pairs of footsteps trailing behind him.
He scowls; shaking one cop is a breeze; having to shake off three is a bitch.
He hurtles over a pile of wooden crates and shoves a stack of delivery pallets over behind him as he runs, darting down random alleys and side streets that he knows will eventually lead him to a safe house.
The backstreet he shoots down is a fork, but only the path straight through will lead him to a rust yard of abandoned warehouses and shipping containers that Sanemi knows like the back of his hand. He could lose them there, could vanish between freights and wait the bastards out, and once clear, he could slip back into the district marking the outer territory of the Silo and get back home.
Iron pumps hotly in his veins. Almost there, almost there ā
A car skids to a stop at the end of the middle ting of the alley, police lights flashing and alarms blaring.
No good.
āFuck.ā It isnāt the end of the world, but the blocking of the alley meant he had to reevaluate his escape. While heās familiar with the path now obstructed by the police cruiser ahead, he hadnāt the chance to fully scope out his only other two options ā the side streets to the left and right.
Without much thought, Sanemi darts sharply left and prays to whatever deity is listening that he hasnāt fully fucked himself.
Only one shop remains open; a tiny hole in the wall, tucked in between two old apartment buildings at the end of the street ā one that borders the cityās western wing.
Itāll have to do, he decides, especially as the police sirens grow louder with each passing second.
He explodes through the front door, wide eyed and panting. Vaguely, it registers to him that this is a bookshop ā a thankfully empty, cluttered bookshop.
But his abrupt arrival does reveal that the shop is not totally empty. There is one other ā the storeās lone employee, who startles out of her seat behind the clerkās counter, nearly knocking over a small cup of coffee.
He regards her for a moment, and she him, with matching expressions of wariness and shock at the presence of the other.
Behind him, the police sirens grow louder; more urgent.
Itās now or never. And, because heās desperate enough to try, he risks a move he knows better than to take.
āYou got someplace I can hide?ā
āā-
You blink, stunned as you stare at the frantic, pleading man anxiously looking between you and the door behind him.
His name registers dimly in the back of your mind. Here. In your store. And, evidently, on the run, if the distant echoes of police sirens growing steadily closer to your store is any indication.
Sanemi Shinazugawa.
You know him; youād known him most of your life, even if youād never spoken to him. Youād gone to the same school in your youth ā all thirteen years of it, in fact. Heād been an abrasive loudmouth in the hallways, but a quiet, even polite boy in the classroom.
You know heās from the Silo ā a worn down, derelict part of the City that housed only the poorest residents. A cruel nickname meant to mock the poverty of its population.
But the Silo was also well known for being the epicenter of operations for the notorious group known only as the Corps.
It was the Corps who owned a majority of the City, its reach extending from the Silo, through the West and East wings, and all the way into Midtown. And, as was the case with most leeches, the Corps relied on the most desperate and hungry to carry out its biddings, offering some level of protection and security for the poor souls who needed it most.
Hence, its presence in the Silo.
So you hadnāt been surprised when youād heard Sanemi had joined the Corps. Most kids from the Silo did; what had surprised you were the rumors that he became a high-rank member by the ripe age of seventeen, before heād even graduated high school.
You shudder to think what he had to have done ā what heād become ā in order to achieve such status and notoriety.
If heād been anyone else, you wouldnāt have helped; you wouldāve screamed, alerted the police to his presence, maybe even outed him as a suspected Hashira.
But you owed him.
Years ago, before either you or your siblings could drive, you all relied on the city bus to get to and from school.
But one afternoon, when youād had to stay late for a club meeting, your little sister accidentally got on the wrong bus. Rather than being dropped safe and sound a block away from home, sheād ended up in a bad part of town that just so happened to have been the stomping grounds of the scowling delinquent now shoved under your cabinet, contorted between boxes of blank receipt rolls and stacks of returns.
Had anyone else found your sister, there would be no telling what would have happened to her. The Silo was not a place known to be kind to lost little girls.
But it was Sanemi who discovered her, sniffling and red-faced at the dilapidated bus stop. And though heād been nothing more than a scrawny ten year old, heād put your sister on his back and carried her not just the six miles back to safe part of town, but the additional two that led right to the front doorstep of your parentsā home.
Youād watched him curiously from the stairs as your parents profusely thanked your sisterās white-haired savior. Theyād offered Sanemi dinner, or at least some sort of reward for his efforts, but heād only waved them off, briskly telling them it was āno big deal.ā As though carrying a six-year-old nearly eight miles was par for the course, as far as he was concerned.
His eyes had flitted over to you once during the exchange, briefly lingering before he turned and left, a single hand held up in casual farewell.
Youād been ten at the time. And now, here you are, twenty years old, running a shabby bookstore, and the opportunity to pay him back has finally arrived. The chance to show your gratitude for sparing your sister of a fate he himself, had not been able to escape.
Quickly, you motion him to you and without explanation, you cram him under the clerkās counter, holding the cabinet door shut with your knee just as the police burst through the store entrance.
There are three of them, and they do not bother announcing themselves to you. Instead, they begin to prowl through your aisles, flashlights out and guns drawn while they comb the quiet corners of the store, searching for signs of anything that did not belong; anything misplaced.
A bead of sweat slides down the back of your neck, but you keep your face and your stance casual. Below the counter you cross your fingers, hoping and praying that the criminal stuffed inside your cabinet isnāt stupid enough to try and shift.
One officer rounds back into the main part of the store and locks in on you, stiff and anxious behind the counter.āYou havenāt seen anything suspicious?ā
āIām sorry, sir. I donāt know what you mean.ā
The cop grimaces. āYou havenāt seen anyone who looks out of place? Maybe seems like theyāre running?ā
You feign an easy, sweet smile, even as the leg holding the cabinet door shut begins to tremble. āIām afraid youāre my first customer of the day, sir.ā
The officer grumbles under his breath something along the lines of not your customer, but he questions you no further. He only waves to his comrades and the three of them shuffle out through the door, one muttering into the walkie strapped to his shoulder.
Several moments pass, tense and thick. The silence is broken only by the sound of your heart hammering against your sternum. You remain still, fingers curled tight against the counterās edge listening for any sound signaling the cops have returned, that their stiff departure had been a ruse to lull you into a false sense of security, as they waited for you to reveal your deception.
But all remains quiet. And you cannot stomach the silence any longer.
āTheyāre gone,ā you mutter, finally moving aside to let the cabinet door below you swing open.
Thereās a faint thumping and a few, muffled curses as the scar-speckled fugitive unfolds himself and spills free from the under-cabinet.
In a way, Sanemi still resembles the boy of your memories. His eyes and hair have always been distinctive: a shocking contrast of violet framed by thick, dark lashes that do not match the mop of silvery-white atop his head. But itās the faint scowl he wears as he stands, the tinge of annoyance that tugs at the corners of his mouth, that scrunches his pale eyebrows, that feels familiar.
That expression, a portrait of vague irritation with the world around him, was one you came to know well ā at least, at a distance. One that remained constant even as you grew; his default.
However, it is still not nearly as memorable as the shy embarrassment that had turned his cheeks slightly pink, had made him cast his eyes down as your parents showered him with gratitude.
But that earnest bashfulness is nowhere to be found now.
He wears a patterned, short-sleeved button down. Though rumpled and a tad dirty, you suspect the top three buttons were left open intentionally, rather than being the product of whatever scuffle heād found himself in before he decided to make it your problem.
You try not to linger on the very obvious hint of the well-defined muscles revealed by his open collar. Nor do you let yourself consider the bulging mass of his biceps as he runs a hand through his cornsilk hair.
He has scars heād not had in your youth ā jagged, silvery lines that cut halfway across his cheek and forehead. Yet their presence does not dull his good looks.
A scrawny ten year old no longer; Sanemi Shinazugawa is now tall and roguishly handsome. But his infuriating good looks aside, your debt to him has been repaid; now, he needs to get the fuck away.
āCanāt thank ya enough,ā he shoots you a devilish smile as he straightens his shirt. āYou really saved my ass āā
āGet out of my store.ā You order, your voice hard. āTake your trouble somewhere else and leave me out of it.ā
Sanemiās eyes narrow at your use of the word trouble, but he says nothing. Instead, he only rounds the counter with a loping, infuriating swagger, his hands shoved in his pockets.
āAs you wish, Princess,ā and you bristle at the sarcasm dropping from the word. He pauses to scan the shelf marked New Releases. āJust need somethinā for the road.ā
He snags a small novel ā a fantasy story, judging by the cover - and he tucks it under his arm.
āLater,ā he calls, waving a lazy hand over his shoulder.
You stare after him, slack-jawed and incensed. āYou have to pay for āā
But the door bangs shut behind him, and Sanemi Shinazugawa disappears into the night.
ā-
By the time Sanemi returns to his shabby apartment, it is well after midnight. Heād met up with Uzui and forked over Maedaās payment. Though, the Corpās head pimp hadnāt been particularly pleased that his money rolls had been shoved deep down in his boots, his nose wrinkling as Sanemi dropped the crumpled, slightly damp wads of cash into his waiting, magenta-nailed hands.
As it turned out, Maeda hadnāt sold them out. Rather, one of the Hinoe had stupidly gotten into a scuffle with some brash, young teenager and in his anger, pulled his gun on the kid.
Right in front of two, marked cop cars.
One of the idiots had been caught and cuffed, and was now spending his evening locked in the damp, cold jailhouse pending bond. The other ā the driver ā had managed to escape, though heād been carted off to Iguro for punishment.
Thereās a reason he prefers working alone, he thinks bitterly as he kicks his boots off. He fucking loathes incompetence.
He pulls his gun free from its place in his waistband and sets it gently atop his ratty kitchen table. Sanemi then trudges over to his futon, collapsing heavily on it with a groan. A shit day, he decides, pulling the stack of cash heād received as his cut for the job free from his pocket, thumbing through it. A shit day with shit juniors.
He shifts against a lump that sits under his ass. Frowning, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the book heād swiped from your store and turns it over in his hands. Surprisingly, it has managed to remain in pristine condition despite its rather unceremonious storage in his pocket.
Your face flashes in his mind, but before he can fully appreciate it, your words echo in his ears.
Take your trouble somewhere else.
Sanemi scowls, tossing the book onto his coffee table, annoyed. The implication underlying your use of trouble and the venom with which youād spoken it is a thorn in his side he cannot ignore.
You know what ā who ā he is. In Sanemiās world, thatās a liability.
Though, in fairness, he canāt really be surprised that you do. Gossip is a free commodity in this town, and itās a coveted one. It wouldnāt be a stretch to conclude that youād overheard one of the rumors about him and his ties to the Corps.
What concerns him is he doesnāt know what your connection is, if any, to his world. Maybe youāre really just a girl in a bookshop who paid back a decade-old favor.
Or maybe youāve got an in with them.
The Corps isnāt the only gang operating within the city; there is another, crueler and far more violent that had arisen west of the Silo.
The Kizuki.
In the last six months, the Kizuki have managed to overtake the Western Wing, nearly expanding their reach into center city.
Their takeover had been swift; practically achieved overnight, following the systematic execution of every known Corps members in the area. And their violence hadnāt been limited to active members; the Kizuki had brutally maimed and murdered anyone tangentially connected to those Corps members.
Neither women nor their children were spared. And now, it seemed the Kizuki had set their sights on the Silo.
There are whispers that theyāve expanded into their operations into the neighborhood adjacent to the one in which the bookstore sits. That alone is enough to make Sanemi suspicious ā perhaps youāre in league with them, and youāll hand him over the moment itās most convenient for you to do so.
Admittedly, that theory seems doubtful. Youāre a bookseller. Not the kind of girl he knows is prone to becoming involved with the seedy underground world of organized crime. And your apparent disdain for him and his trouble only supports that theory.
But thatās an assumption, and in his line of work, assumptions are precarious; risky. Too much so for comfort.
Either way, he doesnāt know, and that uncertainty is a breeding ground for the parasite that is doubt. Toxic enough that were it to take root in his brain, his judgment could be compromised, leading him to mistakes he canāt afford to make.
Sanemi doesnāt tolerate blind spots. He will keep you on his radar until he determines the threat you pose and once he knows its severity, heāll decide how to proceed.
He eyes the book heād swiped from your store. He likes reading, though he hasnāt had much time for it lately (or, ever). But, if heās going to hang around you while trying to identify the threat you pose, he might as well have a strategy for getting you to talk.
Sighing, he grabs the novel from his table and thumbs to the first page as he pads into his kitchen, in search of something to quell the grumble in his stomach.
ā
His inquiries into you and your life reveal shockingly little.
You work at a bookstore. Your parents sold off your childhood home and retired to some beach down south. Your siblings are spread out across other cities and donāt visit home often, if ever.
Only you remain, abandoned by your family to fend for yourself in a crumbling city with only a shabby bookshop that sits on the furthest end of an otherwise safe street to keep you busy.
Truthfully, the bookstore probably is more interesting than you, at least on paper. But itās that dirge of information that piques his interest; makes him look at you more as a mystery worth unraveling.
Besides, the smart thing for him would be to keep a tab on you until he can confirm you are in fact, as boring as you appear.
Or so he tells himself.
The image of a ten-year-old you peering at him from your parentsā stairwell flashes through his mind once more.
Heād felt your gaze burning a hole into his head, and shyly, heād looked back at you, only to find himself unable to look away. Only your motherās prodding about him joining your family for dinner had broken your temporary enchantment over him.
The memory of how youād looked at him ā a mixture of curiosity and awe highlighted by a faint blush in your cheeks when heād met your stare head on ā remained fixed in his brain for years after.
And though the two of you never spoke, you always smiled at him whenever you locked eyes in the school hallway or cafeteria. A real, genuine smile.
He wonders if he ever smiled back and finds himself irritated that he canāt remember if he had. He shouldāve; especially now when it seems as though heās unlikely to ever see that gentle, radiant smile again.
Sanemiās phone pings and all thoughts of you come to a screeching halt. The message that flashes on his screen ā instructions, only by way of an address and an amount ā chase away the images of you and your sweet smile, like a hand scattering smoke.
With a sigh, Sanemi dials the number for two, lower-ranked Corps members to serve as scouts. With watch secured, he shoves his phone into his pocket and runs a tired hand over his face.
He wonders what will kill him first ā whether it will be a bullet or whether it will be because thereās nothing left of him to whore out on the Corpās behalf.
Ultimately, he knows it doesnāt really matter. He wonāt die as himself; as Sanemi, the boy from the Silo who wants a life thatās anything but this. Heāll die only as Shinazugawa the Hashira. Heāll die under the mask heās forced to wear so often, he wonders if it hasnāt yet bonded with his skin.
But as long as he remains in one piece, he must continue on as a puppet in this this tedious show. So, Sanemi grabs his gun from where heād placed it on atop the cheap plastic of his kitchen table and he tucks it into his waistband.
And by the time his apartment door slams shut behind him, Sanemi has slipped the mask down over his face, and he is Shinazugawa once more.
ā
Two weeks pass before he ends up back in front of your bookstore.
Sanemi doesnāt really remember how he got here. He awoke well before sunrise to his phone chiming with orders that he go collect on a sizeable gambling debt owed by one of Iguroās regulars, an owner of some pawn shop.
The sun was already high overhead when he finally left the pawn shop, knuckles bruised and arm aching. Heād kicked his bike into gear in a familiar daze, one that always slipped over him after he completed a job. A kind of numb quiet that settled into his bones, a dull static in his brain that did not fade until the tremor in his hands subsided.
That paralysis needs to be broken. Contrary to popular belief, desensitization was not an ideal state of being for someone like him. It made him apathetic and careless to the world around him, and that was little better than painting a giant target on his back, begging his enemies to come and do their worst.
So, when the numbness still lingered by the time his bike roars past a rusted water tower that marks the outer limit of the Silo, Sanemi knows of only one cure. His go-to.
His bike is still hot by the time he lifts his phone to his ear, just outside his shithole of an apartment.
He doesnāt know her by name ā only by description, as told by the series of emojis that accompany her number on his phone. But itās surprisingly easy to charm her, though perhaps thatās because sheās looking for an escape just as much as he is.
Less than ten minutes later, the girl pulls up beside him in the parking lot.
Her hands are already roaming down his chest and playing with the buckle on his belt as Sanemi unlocks his door and pushes her inside.
At some point between the front door and his bedroom, the girl has stripped herself of her outer clothing, leaving her only in her undergarments as she tugs Sanemi down by his neck and into her kiss. Sheās licking and nipping at his lips in a way heās not sure he likes, but he allows it because his cock is painfully hard and throbbing where it strains against his pants.
And, after all, heās the one desperate for relief.
āIāve only got ten minutes,ā she warns, kicking off her underwear as she falls back onto his bed. Sanemi only smirks as he slides his hand down the length of her leg, gripping her by the ankle and flipping her to her stomach.
He shifts away long enough to quickly wiggle free of his pants. He grabs a condom from his nightstand and rips the foil with his teeth. Fingers toying with the girlās clit as she moans into his mattress, Sanemi rolls the latex down his cock. Protection secured, he reaches for her again, yanking her by her hips until her backside is flush against him. One hand pushes down between her shoulder blades while the other snakes up her neck, and Sanemi nudges the tip of his cock up against her entrance.
āDonāt worry, darlinā,ā he winds the long tresses of her hair around his fist and gives her a sharp tug. āWeāll be done in five.ā
ā-
Even an hour after he tossed the girl her clothing and not so casually suggested she leave his apartment, Sanemi still feels restless.
He cannot shake the images of the afternoon from his mind, and so, Sanemi resorts to walking.
He does so without thought as to destination or the rapidly setting sun. Sanemi only focuses on the activity itself. One foot in front of the other; pace even and quick, each step accompanied by a flash of that dayās sins.
The crash of a garage door as it slammed back against the wall. Wide eyes that quickly filled with panic at the sight of him and the flash of metal tucked against his hip.
Step.
A plea; a desperate promise to pay, one that heād heard a thousand times from a thousand different mouths. None of them ever seemed to understand their word wasnāt worth shit when theyād already defaulted on their obligations. Yet still, they begged.
Step.
The breaking of teeth beneath his fists.
Step.
The crush of bone under the iron pipe heād found discarded on the garage floor. The agonized futility of trying to scoot back and away from him, despite a shattered leg.
Green; the color of the money heād found stashed in a duffel, the debtorās desperate attempt to hoard the wealth owed to the Corps.
Step. Step. Step. All the way down the street leading until he finds himself on a distantly familiar stretch of pavement that ends at the bookstoreās front steps.
For a moment, he lingers outside the shop, hesitant. He should turn around; there is no reason for him to be here. His investigation into you is not a priority by any means, especially where whatever poking he has done has revealed so little.
The book he lifted from the New Releases shelf is tucked carefully in his jacket pocket. He doesnāt know why heās carried it around with him, all this time. Sanemi finished the novel the very night youād helped hide him from the cops.
He should leave; but then his feet carry him up the walk leading to the store, and heās pushing the door open.
His arrival is punctuated by a cheerful ring of the old bell nailed above the door. At first, the store appears deserted; but then you pop up from under the counter, surprise coloring your features.
That surprise melts quickly into cold disdain that makes something in his chest flutter as he strolls toward you. With every step, that numb haze of his disperses and instead, Sanemi feels himself returning to normal the closer he brings himself to you.
āThis isnāt a library,ā you chide when he plops his borrowed novel back down on your counter. āYou have to pay for the books here.ā
Itās incredible how easily he is able to slip back into the skin of the suave, smug playboy, and your adorable glare only makes him smirk. āI brought it back, didnāt I? Look ā didnāt even crack the spine.ā
āIt doesnāt matter,ā you reply coolly, snatching the book up and tossing it on a small cart marked Restock. āThat loss came out of my paycheck ā which is scant enough.ā
That piques his attention. āDidnāt you say this was your store?ā
His question makes you turn pink, and youāre quick to put your back to him, pretending to shuffle through new releases waiting to be shelved. āI work here,ā you mutter quietly, but when you turn back around, you stick your chin out, defiant. āBut I am the only employee, so it is my store, in a sense. The owner doesnāt ever come by.ā
You wrinkle your nose. āSo yes, lost profits affect me, and me alone, you thief.ā
Sanemi cocks his head, his eyes running over you in consideration.
Youāre beautiful; heās always found you cute, even as a kid, but the transition between your teen years and adulthood have been kind. Even if youāre glaring at him like you would a crushed bug stuck to the bottom of your shoe.
But your words strike a chord in him. His job is to collect money from those greedy lowlifes who waste it; who use money to carry out their bad deeds, who use it to fuck over others.
He doesnāt take it from those who need it; from those who are barely scraping. by. Sanemi knows the agony of having to choose between keeping the lights on or feeding a hungry stomach far, far too well.
āFine, here,ā he tosses a random novel on your counter and a crumpled twenty dollar note. You ring him up, eyes flicking up to glare at him every so often as you count out his change.
He only continues to watch you, the heat of his stare ignites an itch under your skin that makes you squirm.
Your restlessness boils over. āWhat?ā
āNothin,ā he shrugs. āJust think itās interesting that you of all people are still lingering in this shit hole.ā
Your head snaps up, your task of totaling out his change forgotten. āI live here, idiot.ā
He snorts. āDidnāt you want outta here? Do somethinā different?ā He leans forward, elbows propped on your counter as he rests his chin on his fist.
āI donāt see how thatās any of your business.ā Heās dancing dangerously close to a sore spot of yours ā that you are alone in your hometown, working at a failing bookshop, with no one and nothing to justify your stagnancy.
āThis canāt be your dream life.ā
You donāt have to answer; you know that. But his line of questioning is puzzling. Because, no matter how casual he manages to keep his tone, his nonchalance is betrayed by his eyes, sharp and inquisitive.
Like heās waiting to dissect whatever answer you give him.
Sanemi continues. āItās strange for people not to want for more ā to not dream about somethinā different.ā
āAnd who are you to say I donāt?ā You bristle, slamming your cash drawer shut with more force than necessary. āI have a dream of my own. Just because itās not one you would pick for yourself doesnāt mean itās wrong.ā
He blinks, taken aback. āWoah, woah, I never meant any offense.ā He pushes back from the counter. āMy bad.ā
His response feels genuine but your ego is already bruised. Stiffly, you finish counting out his change and drop it into his waiting palm.
You slide his book across the counter. āHave the day you deserve.ā
His surprise morphs into amusement at your iciness. So haughty, he winks. āYou too, Princess.ā
You turn aside in clear dismissal. He makes a show of taking out his wallet and stuffing his change inside, but your pointed ignorance of him means you donāt see him toss another note on the counter.
Heās already halfway out the door when you call after him, urgent. āSir, you dropped your āā
āNah, I didnāt,ā he raises his hand in farewell as the bookstore door bangs shut behind him, leaving you to stare open-mouthed after him.
Clutched tightly in your hand is his crisp, one hundred dollar note.
ā
His next visit is unplanned, but not in the way that Sanemi avoids routine. Itās unplanned in that heās annoyed and itās partially your fault, so that means the onus is on you to fix it.
Youāre in the process of double checking delivery logs to ensure all your new inventory has arrived when a large thud against the clerkās counter startles you.
You frown. Itās him again ā all ivory hair and silvery facial scars that somehow are less imposing than the irritated scowl he wears.
āThis book was shit,ā he scoots the novel across the counter to you with distaste. āI want a refund.ā
You level his pout with a frosty glare of your own. Wordlessly, you lean over the counter and tap a single finger against a laminated sign duck-taped to its edge.
Return-exchange only. No refunds.
āBut it was shit,ā he repeats, as though that will somehow spur you to change a policy you didnāt create. āYou let me waste twenty bucks.ā
āI did nothing,ā you rustle the pages of your delivery log in pointed dismissal. āYouāre the one who decided to buy a book before checking it out.ā
You glance down at the discarded novel. āFigures,ā you scoff. āHeās not even an author. He uses ghost writers and takes all the credit.ā
āWoulda been nice if youād told me that before you let me give him my money.ā
You hum idly as you cross off the logās boxes for new releases. āI suppose I was too stunned that you even knew how to read. Guess I wasnāt really paying attention to your shit choices.ā
āOh?ā And you glance up to see Sanemi smirking at you. āThe Princess has claws, does she?ā He leans against the counter, propping his cheek under a loose fist. āSo, what are your recommendations, gorgeous?ā
āIām not your Princess,ā you snap imbuing the nickname with as much venom as you can muster. āCall me by my name or call me nothing at all.ā
His eyes drop to your name-tag, pinned neatly on the front of your sweater. That insufferable smirk of his only widens. āAlright, alright. What are your recommendations, Y/N?ā
The syllables sound rich and honeyed and suddenly, you wish youād let him stick with Princess, as grating as it was.
Because your name should not sound so sweet, should not roll off his tongue so seamlessly, as it just did.
Youāve never been one to indulge in rumors. But in this city, as economically fractured as it is, gossip is a currency everyone keeps in their back pocket. And though you keep your head down and mind your own business, even you have heard the rumors swirling around town about the eldest Shinazugawa child.
Rumors that he has ascended the ranks of the same Mob that claimed the life of his deadbeat father long before the bastard was shived in the back for a debt heād owed (their words, never yours).
Rumors that he holds a unique position within the gang, known clandestinely only as the Corps, and that position requires him to do things most wonāt speak about.
But the rumor that screeches to the forefront of your mind has nothing to do with his alleged status with the Corps. Itās his reputation as a flirt; a rumored womanizer, through and through, that is a splinter under your skin.
Determined to pick him out, a wicked idea blossoms. āFine, here.ā You stalk purposefully to the section marked Literature. Your finger drags down a line of titles before finally settling on one. You pull it free with a soft grunt, the book sitting thick and heavy in your hand as you dump it into Sanemiās.
āRead that.ā
His eyes flick between its cover and you, incredulous. āThis aināt a book; itās a brick.ā
āItās a classic,ā you counter. āOne that examines age-old question of destiny versus free will, generational curses.ā Your head cocks to the side, a challenging smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. āLove and lust.ā
His eyebrow raises and you cross your fingers. If he falls for it and ultimately ends up hating the book, then perhaps heāll decide your taste in reading material is indeed shit, and maybe then heāll leave you alone.
Sanemi considers you for a moment but then he takes the bait. āIf you say so,ā he sighs. āBut if itās shit, Iām taking my refund.ā And then he leans in close, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body.
His breath is hot against your ear. āRegardless of your shitty little policy.ā
You refuse to let him see how much heās knocked you off-kilter. āSo I can expect to be robbed? Will it be at gun or knifepoint? Just so Iām prepared.ā
His chuckle, low and dark sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. āWorse,ā he promises before he draws back. His grin is wolfish, all teeth and feral hunger. āYouāll owe me a date.ā
He looses a low, appreciate whistle as he steps back and takes his eyes over your rigid form. āThough, I might just take you out anyway.ā
āYou assume Iāll say yes ā or are you planning on kidnapping me? Iām sure youāre rather proficient at it, given your occupation.ā
Something dark flashes across his face, and itās enough to make you step back, a sudden fear creeping up the back of your spine.
Stupid, you chastise yourself. You never know when to keep your mouth shut.
But the shadows in his features recede as quickly as they appeared, and Sanemiās mouth eases back into that same, cocky smile.
āYouāll say yes, Princess. You wonāt be able to resist the temptation.ā
āTemptation?ā You force out a laugh. āAnd what makes you think I canāt?ā
Sanemiās eyes find your current read, open flipped over on the counter, marking your current page.
Itās a mystery novel. Your third of the month, born of a new hyperfixation on the genre.
You want nothing more than to wipe that smug grin of his clean from his face. He gives an affectionate snake of his head as he turns and makes his way toward the door. āHabits, Y/N. It all comes down to habits.ā
You should throw it at his head, but Sanemi exits the store before your hand can find its spine.
āā-
Over two weeks pass without so much as a whisper from the enigma that is Sanemi Shinazugawa.
Loath though you are to give him that sort of credit, you cannot deny that he utterly confounds you. He is everything you expected while simultaneously nothing at all what youād imagined. He is brash and cocky, and he struts around with an insufferable self-importance that can only come from years of being at the top of his game (no matter how he got there).
Yet, he also reads. Enough to have opinions, even decent ones, about certain authors, and heās open minded enough to accept your recommendation even if it feels as though he has an ulterior motive for doing so.
And, heād been bothered by the dock in your pay as a result of his mischief; so much so, that heād slipped you more than enough to make up the loss. That is the action that puzzles you the most, even weeks later. Youād assumed that someone like him, so used to ensnaring people into various schemes, wouldnāt have given two shits if heād stolen money from some broke girl at a bookstore. After all, his business was all about money ā and the lengths some would go to keep it.
Yet heād paid you back ā paid you more than you needed, if you were honest.
Since that day, youāve had your ears tuned to any mention of his name, any whispers of the mysterious, scarred gang-member who has occupied nearly all the open space in your head. Youāve managed to glean small things here and there. That heās a Hashira, and Hashira means heās only one step below what is known ominously as the Master Family ā the heads of the entire organization.
That heās rather feared, even among seasoned Corps members; that heās known for his swift brutality.
That heās more than just a flirt; heās a virile lover. Not picky in the slightest about who warms his bed, though no one has ever been able to pin him down longer than a handful of one-night stands.
You stop poking around after that particular revelation, embarrassed that you now know exactly what makes him so popular.
Apparently, his flexibility pairs well with his near inhuman stamina. And heās said to be very well-endowed.
Itās more information than you care to know, but you canāt deny that your curiosity lingers.
You brush aside your inquisitiveness as nothing more than a natural side effect of your own inexperience. And youāll be damned before admitting that your interest in Sanemi Shinazugawa isnāt limited to rumors of how good he is in bed. That, perhaps your curiosity stems from something deeper, from a desire to know if that bad boy persona is authentic or a mere facade, and boy on the stoop still lurks somewhere beneath his mask.
ā
āYou look like shit.ā
You startle up from where youād been resting your head on your arm, wavering between consciousness and sleep.
You know that gravelly voice before you lay your eyes on him, and your irritation is quick to flicker to life.
Nearly a month has passed since your last encounter, and for a moment, youād thought youād been freed from his nuisance. But now, Sanemi stands in your store, wearing a half-amused expression on his stupidly handsome face.
āIs that the only descriptor you know?ā You ask miserably, hands working quickly to smooth down your mused hair. āIs everything either shit or not-shit to you?ā
Sanemi shrugs. āPretty much,ā and he holds something out to you, waiting. āHere.ā
Itās a to-go bag from a cafe two blocks away. One known for their almond croissants, for which you have a particular penchant.
Your stomach grumbles fiercely. Youād foregone eating breakfast when you realized youād overslept your alarm, and had to rush out of your apartment to ensure youād be here in time for the weekly delivery truck.
The sweet scent of butter and sugar wafting from the bag makes your mouth water.
But this is Sanemi Shinazugawa, and you should think to know better. āIs it poisoned?ā
He rolls his eyes. āIf I wanted to drug you, sweetheart, Iād pick a far more convenient way to do it ā and one that didnāt involve me getting up at the ass crack of dawn for some overpriced pastries.ā
Warily, you accept the paper bag, and Sanemi surprises you again by handing you a to-go cup of coffee. He watches as you, ever the dramatic, sniff tentatively at the lid and frown, apparently dissatisfied that you can discern nothing but the rich, aromatic scent of espresso.
Sanemi takes a deep drink from his own cup. āItās a thank you. For that book you recommended,ā He smirks. āIt wasnāt shit. It was good.ā
You fish a pastry out of the bag, and nearly drool as you behold its buttery, flaky goodness. āYou sound surprised.ā
āMaybe I was. Your success rate was only fifty-fifty. I had every right to be skeptical.ā
āYouāre the one who grabbed that last book,ā you take a large bite out of your croissant and you fight to keep yourself from moaning. āThat had nothing to do with me.ā You swallow thickly before taking a large sip of coffee to wash down the pastry. āSo, no date, then?ā
The smile he gives you is almost apologetic. āSorry, beautiful. I donāt actually date.ā And you nearly double over at the bewildering taste of disappointment creeping sourly up the back of your throat. āGotta keep things casual in my world.ā
The once-over he gives you is razor-sharp. āAnd you donāt look like a casual girl.ā
You resist the urge to cross your arms. āYou seem awfully certain, Shinazugawa.ā
āExperience,ā he offers easily. āI know casual women.ā He turns his head away before quietly adding, āAnd you aināt one of āem.ā
Itās odd; you know of his rather wild reputation among women, and yet he seems almost embarrassed by its acknowledgment. But as youāre slowly learning, Sanemi Shinazugawa is a conundrum you havenāt yet been able to pick apart.
You could throw it in his face; you could spew some barb about his experience, rub your salt right into his obvious wound. You have no reason to spare his feelings, not when heās been such a consistent pain in your ass.
Your eyes drift to the empty pastry bag and coffee cup before they find him again, and suddenly, you donāt see the swaggering, cocky Corps member with a reputation for being just as dangerous and violent as he is flirtatious.
You see only the boy on your stoop; the one whoād gently removed your sister from her place on his back and handed her back to your tearful, relieved parents.
And itās because you cannot stop seeing that boy, that you offer before you lose the courage to ask, āSo, friends, then?ā
Sanemi whips back to you, surprise coloring his features that quickly melts into a smile ā a real, genuine smile.
And thus, Sanemi Shinazugawa, ruthless member of the Corps and a ranked Hashira, befriends a girl who runs a bookshop.
ā-
In retrospect, Sanemi knows heās probably fucked himself.
His only intention in visiting your shop after that first day had been to discern what level of threat you posed to him, if any, and to address it accordingly. Befriending you was never his goal. After all, he prided himself on his staunch ability in following the unspoken Rules of the Corps ā number Three, in particular.
But he has always interpreted Three has a warning against forming bonds within the Corps. And though he knows itās good practice to keep his circle outside its operations small as well, he rations heās entitled to indulge his curiosity in you. He doesnāt have friends, not really. Just Genya, and his little brother lives well over an hour away, enrolled in a school in a far better ā far safer ā city.
It would be nice to have someone a little closer to home that he could relax around.
Yet, he canāt recall whether Rule Three would bar him from associating you outside work hours. Caution would dictate he shouldnāt, but Sanemi never claimed to be a careful man.
He never visits the same day or at the same time. Rule Two says no patterns, and though heās steadily blurring the lines of Rule Three with each passing day, he convinces himself that as long as he abides by the first two, he wonāt be in as deep shit as he, in theory, could be.
It starts out slow; tentative. Despite what heād thought otherwise, youāre not nearly as prim and haughty as youād tried to make him believe.
Youāre sweet. Genuine, in a way thatās rare for him to encounter in his world.
Gradually, he begins spending more time with you. At first, your relationship is confined strictly to discussions of books. You swap favorites, debate which author is at the top of their genre, and you occasionally needle each other over your respective guilty pleasure: yours, bodice rippers. His, fairytales.
He spends a great deal of his free time at the bookstore, though heās never consistent with his visits. You never ask him about it, and for that, heās grateful. But eventually, your conversation turns to other interests ā movies, shows, music ā and each new mutual interest only further enamors him with you.
And when you invite him over one day after you close the shop to watch an old movie youād swiped from the storeās limited collection, he canāt find it in him to tell you no.
The first time he visits your apartment, he is appalled.
For starters, the neighborhood you live in isnāt the safest. Itās not the Silo, by any means, but itās an area he frequents as part of his job and that fact alone sets him on edge. He knows what kind of people linger here; knows that they tend to borrow cash that ends up in Uzuiās business ā another Hashira.
And when he sees the shoebox you live in (a studio, youād proudly boasted, as though the distraction of exposed brick and industrial piping made up for its shit location and shit security), Sanemi finds himself clutching his proverbial pearls.
He supposes he can see its appeal ā youāve certainly turned it into a home.
Youāve made a small living room out of a single couch, thrifted coffee table, and a faintly stained rug. Your TV is laughably small, but he supposes it gets the job done.
A small kitchen stands to the right of the entryway, and there is a bathroom to the left. You have a wall of closets with folding doors, and the wall directly opposite of him boasts three large, arched windows. Sanemi supposes during the day, they provide enough natural sunlight to negate any need for any overhead lighting, of which you have none. But he canāt tell if they open from the outside, so he resolves to furtively check once youāre distracted.
Your bed stands on the furthest wall, tucked into a corner and laden heavy with colorful pillows and plush throws. Books are stacked everywhere ā in shelves, in corners, by plants and furniture. All well-worn and loved, their spines cracked and covers stained.
Itās lively; warm. And it has you written all over it. That alone is enough to slightly endear the place to him.
But itās still a shit apartment in a shit neighborhood.
Worse, your door is little more than a flimsy piece of wood that latches with a single turn lock ā the easiest to break, if someone was determined enough to try. He tells you as much and you roll your eyes, brushing aside his concerns as though heās not precisely aware of what kind of filth might linger around the corner.
The next day, he brings over a deadbolt, a chain, and a drill. He bats off your indignant protests as he installs it on your door. And, because heās petty, he forces you to sit through a painfully detailed demonstration of how to properly latch and unlatch the chain once heās finished.
The weeks blend seamlessly into months, and Sanemi finds himself spending more and more of his free time with you. It doesnāt matter whether youāre working at the bookstore or enjoying a night of brain-rotting entertainment on your shitty little television. He just wants to be near you, and he finds himself unable to stay away.
Four months into your friendship, you start a weekly movie night, though the date is always subject to change. Still, Sanemi finds himself craving more of that precious time with you. The hours spent in your store or at your apartment fill a void in his chest he hadnāt realized heād been harboring, and itās a fullness he quickly becomes addicted to.
It is an odd thing, this new ritual (never routine) of his. The alternation between visiting the scum indebted to the Corps, to feel bones crush and snap beneath his hands or the iron of a spare crowbar, or blood griming to his knuckles, only to return to your bookshop or apartment, cheap beer and greasy takeout in hand, isnāt the kind of switch he imagined heād ever make. But you make taking off his Hashira mask so damn easy, and every time he leaves he finds it more difficult to slip back on.
With each passing day, he learns you more and more. He gathers information like a dragon hoards its jewels, each new tidbit a precious gem that he tucks safely away in a mental box labeled with your name.
He learns that, while he prefers tea, you prefer coffee, but youāre picky about your order. If itās hot, you want it black or with only the faintest splash of cream. If itās cold, however, you want every sweet syrup and topping known to man, even though it only makes you crash like a freight train once the sugar high wears off.
He learns you think cooking means pouring yourself a bowl of cereal and calling it a day, and itās a revelation that makes him have to walk away and collect himself, lest he start lecturing you on the importance of proper nutrition, just as he does with his brother.
In exchange, he opens up about the more sacred aspects of his life ā namely, Genya. He confides in you the great pride and adoration he has for his little brother, and admits his deep-seated fear that Genya will somehow be pulled into his violent, hostile world of his. And each time Sanemi begins to feel that anxiety rear its ugly head, threaten to settle into the marrow of his bones and send him into a spiral, youāre always there to pull him back.
Sometimes you ask questions, and Sanemi tries to answer them as best he can. But there are some subjects he can never touch. Never wants to.
He canāt tell you whose blood stains his knuckles or is splattered across his shoes. He canāt tell you where he goes when his phone vibrates late at night or at random during the day. He canāt tell you what his fellow Hashira do; the specialties they oversee.
Sanemi does make a point to assure you there is one sacred creed by which they all abide: no kids. This seems to put you at ease, as though this tepid moral line somehow absolves him of the other shit heās guilty for.
Itās selfish, this thing he has created with you. He knows that. And his blossoming friendship with you likely breaks more than one of the sacred precepts of the Corps. But youāre the first person heās met since his initiation who knows what he is and doesnāt cower in fear, and that makes him desperate to cling onto you. You know what an ugly, beastly creature he is, and yet you do not run away from him. Even when you probably should.
So, he makes a promise. He wonāt show you the Shinazugawa who belongs to the Corps; a formidable member of the Hashira, known because of the things he can do to others to make sure they pay their debts. What he does to them when they donāt.
With you, he wants to be Sanemi; only Sanemi.
And so it goes, for the better part of a year, the two of you learning one another, pretending the ease you feel in the company of the other is merely the product of two people relieved to find a friend in a city that cautions against such ties, and not something in danger of becoming more.
As though the metamorphosis hasnāt already set in.
ā
āYou never told me what your dream was, yāknow.ā Sanemi says one night while you finish up inventory at the store.
āWhat dream?ā You hum as you scan the shelves reserved for non-fiction releases, your lips pressed into a firm line as you run your pen down the entries of your log.
He leans against the bookshelf, arms folded across the considerable mass of his chest. āYour big dream ā the one you bit my head off for insulting that one time.ā
You look up long enough to roll your eyes at him. āWhereās this coming from?ā
āDunno. Curious.ā
āThought youāre not supposed to ask questions in your line of work.ā And you shoot him a sly grin. āYou ought to be careful.ā
Sanemi snorts but he nudges your foot with his. āIām serious.ā
Your eyes dance back and forth between him and the log before you. Thereās no real harm in it, you decide. After all, heās the only friend you have. āI want my own bookstore.ā
āYeah?ā He raises a pale brow and waves his hand vaguely around behind him. āArenāt you practically running this one? That aināt enough?ā
āI donāt own it, though.ā You frown, setting your clipboard down. āI just work here. Youāve seen my paycheck.ā
And he had, having found a paystub when heād gone snooping under your counter. You wouldāve been furious at his invasion of your privacy had you not been so mortified at the way heād stared in horror at the pitiful figure reflecting your earnings after two, grueling weeks of work.
His insistence on bringing you meals at any and every opportunity afterward only compounded your embarrassment.
āI want something thatās mine ā that I own.ā You continue. āIāve begged the owner to let me organize author meet-and-greets as a way to promote the store for months, and he always says no. If I owned my own store, I wouldnāt need anyoneās permission.ā
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. āI wouldnāt have to live under anyoneās thumb.ā
Something shifts in the way Sanemi watches you, a certain profundity creeping into his eyes.
Your cheeks heat. āI know it sounds stupid āā
āIt doesnāt,ā Sanemi says earnestly. āWanting your freedom can never be stupid.ā
You soften then, as understanding passes between you. Of course he would know all about that ā arguably better than anyone you know.
Sanemi clears his throat. āSo, a bookstore?ā And he gives you a broad smile as he pulls out his wallet and tosses you a twenty dollar note. āConsider me your first investor.ā
ā
Sanemi spends the rest of the evening watching you work, fascinated by the way you meticulously organize your store shelves, and count the cash in your register. When it comes time for you to heave boxes of excess inventory to the back storeroom so they can be shipped back to their distributors, Sanemi plucks them from your hands, batting off your protests as he carries them for you.
By the time closing arrives, every new shipment has been unpacked and its contents have been shelved.
You flick off the overhead lights in the main store, relying on the backlight of the exit door to light your way out. You tug on your coat and find him watching you, expectantly. āAre you walking me home?ā
āTch. Donāt I always, when I can?ā
You grin and itās enough to chase away some of the sourness twisting in his gut. He shouldnāt do it, as often as he does. Heās risking enough as it is by constantly redrawing the lines around Rule Three to justify the way heās beginning to bend the parameters around the rule against patterns. But itās dark and late, and you donāt have a car, and heāll be damned if he lets you brave the walk home alone.
Better heās there to protect you from the dangers he can anticipate and see than to stick to his code and risk your harm from those he cannot.
Thankfully, the journey back to your apartment takes no more than fifteen minutes, even when he stops to thumb free a cigarette from the spare carton he keeps tucked in his jacket. You wrinkle your nose at him in mock-disgust as he lights it, the smoke curling out of his mouth reminiscent of a fire-breathing dragon.
He wouldnāt do it if he knew it truly bothered you. But youād once shyly confessed you liked the faint smell of tobacco that clung to his jacket, especially in cold air like this. So he only shoots you a wink as he brings it to his lips and takes a long drag.
Besides, he thinks as he looses a slow exhale. He needs something to help him take the edge off; to guide him in making that transition between Hashira and Sanemi.
He escorts you all the way to your front door, the two of you trading quips and jokes. And Sanemi savors how utterly extraordinary something as ordinary as walking you to your door feels. Almost as if heās ordinary, the way he so desperately wishes he could be.
You fidget with your keys, sliding them into your lock. āDid you finish that series I recommended?ā
Sanemi grins. āLast night. I think it was your best suggestion yet.ā
You duck your head, a bashful smile spreading across your pretty lips and its sight fills him with a golden warmth.
Your door gives way and you turn back to him. āāTil next time?ā
It was what you always said; you never asked him when you could expect to see him again, and he appreciated it. Appreciated not having to explain himself, when most outside his world would likely demand he try.
āāTil next time,ā he confirms, returning your smile with one of his own.
You hover in your doorway, fingers drumming on the frame, eyes roaming his.
āYou never told me yours ā what your dream is.ā
He should leave. Youāre treading in murky waters, ones made dangerous because he almost wants to tell you ā tell you the truth, at that.
That he dreams of more. More life. More stability. More everything. Heād settle for anything, really; anything at all.
As long as it was more than this.
But Sanemi only responds with a wry grin. āTo wake up in the morning, Princess. Thatās all I can ask for.ā
āāā
Sanemiās answer lingers with you long after you emerge from your shower, warm and toweling your damp hair.
To wake up in the morning, Princess.
Heās full of shit and you know it.
Over the course of the last year, youāve learned a handful of crucial details that make up Sanemi Shinazugawa.
Youāve learned he loves matcha, but he really loves the expensive kind. While you canāt afford to buy the high quality powder, you make do with what you can afford at the grocery, and you make it for him as often as you can.
He drinks it every time, bitter dregs and all.
More importantly, youāve learned what it means to have a friend involved in the Corps. Not that heās merely involved with the notorious gang ā at least, not any more than the two of you are just āfriends.ā
Town gossip aside, Sanemiās affiliation with the Corps is made obvious by his own actions. Like the way the two of you only ever hang out at the bookstore or your apartment; how he never invites you to visit his place, over in the Silo.
Or how he insists on scoping out your apartment every time he comes over, his eyes alert and sharp as his hand lingers at his hip, ready to pull out the gun you know he keeps tucked into his waistband at all times.
Itās evident in the way Sanemi never sticks to a consistent schedule. He varies the days and times of his visits at random, never allowing himself to settle into a routine, even if that means going an entire week or longer without seeing you.
But perhaps the most significant detail youāve learned about Sanemi over the year of your friendship is this:
He wants out. Dreams of it, even.
This revelation does not come from the scarred Hashira himself. It is the product of months of observation, of studying how his face darkens when his phone pings! while youāre watching some sitcom on television, or when he sees a familiar face pass by your shop window, and suddenly he has to leave because he must be Shinazugawa again, and you wonāt see him for the rest of the day.
It is evident in the way he talks of his younger brother, who, by all accounts is a star student and athlete, with a promising future in collegiate archery.
Sanemi is saving every penny he can to send his brother ā Genya ā to school, far, far away from the Silo. The conviction with which he speaks of Genyaās future, full of college and internships and promise, breaks your heart, because you know Sanemi hadnāt anyone to want those things for him.
Sanemi does not speak of any future of his. You suspect itās because he doesnāt believe he will have one.
That has to be why he answered your question with his vague desire to wake up every morning. It was an easy answer. One that relied on you making certain connections between his life and his words and deduce that he truly had nothing more to live for other than life itself.
A cop-out, is what it is.
But his reading habits betray his darkest secret ā betray the truth ā and thatās exactly how you know his flippant answer is utter bullshit.
The book Sanemi carries around the most is a series of classic fairy tales, bought off your sale table a few months back. Heās read the whole thing cover to cover, but he keeps a bookmark on one specific page, and periodically, you catch him flipping back to it.
He made the mistake of leaving the book on your coffee table one night when he excused himself to use your bathroom. Realistically, you knew it was no big deal to flip through it, but somehow, the thought still felt like an invasion of his privacy.
But your curiosity got the better of you so you snatched it up, and thumb quickly to the bookmarked page, desperate to know which story has so captivated him.
You opened to the first page of of a tale ā an old French story, about the daughter of a merchant who is sent to life with a beast in a distant castle, as penance for his theft of the beastās rose.
You smiled to yourself; you were familiar with the story. You know how it goes ā the beast everyone believes to be the villain is saved by the woman, and revealed to be a handsome prince. And the two live happily ever after.
Your smile faded as you recalled how the woman saved her Beast. True loveās kiss, or something along those lines.
True love.
And as Sanemi returned from the bathroom and plopped down next to you on your couch to watch a rerun of some old sitcom before he has to leave for the night, you mulled over Sanemiās apparent fascination with the tale of the beast and the beauty.
And thatās how you drew the series of conclusions which enabled you to see right through his thin facade.
He wants out.
He wants a happily ever after. He doesnāt think heāll get it.
And, above all, he dreams of love.
ā
If any doubt lingered as to the magnitude of his ties to the Corps, it disintegrates one night, about eight months after heād first burst into your bookstore.
It is well after midnight, but you are still awake, too engrossed in a new fantasy novel to pay particular attention to the lateness of the hour when your phone buzzes on your bedside table.
Sanemiās name lingers above the notification, which reads simply, Outside.
You untangle yourself from your blankets and pad over to your front door, hastily tugging on a pair of sleep boxers over your underwear.
You open the door and the flutter of excitement youād felt upon seeing his text is chased away by shock at the sight before you.
There is a bruise forming along Sanemiās cheek that you almost would have mistaken for dirt if not for the swelling. His hair is rumpled, his clothes in disarray. Though it winks away the second he sets his gaze on you, you swear you were able a cold fury in his eyes; foreign, and violent.
The fury that belongs to a Hashira, not to the friend you know.
Wordlessly, you step back and allow him to limp past you.
āYou got liniment?ā He rasps, plopping heavily down in your kitchen chair. āAnd water?ā
āYou mean icy-hot?ā Youāre already filling a glass from the tap that you set on the table next to him before you retreat to your bathroom to rummage the cabinets.
You return a few moments later, tub of minty topical gel clutched in hand. You nearly drop it when you realize that Sanemi has stripped himself of his shirt already and is now bare from the waist-up, his forehead resting against his arms where theyāre propped up on the back of your chair.
Youāve known for a long while that Sanemi is well-built (obscenely so).
Once, in the early days of your friendship, youād snapped at him to button his shirt properly if he insisted on hanging around your store, dramatizing over how obscene it was for him to prance around with his chest half-exposed.
Sanemi had only grinned at you before he unbuttoned two more, revealing a generous glimpse of infuriatingly toned abs. Your open-mouthed, scandalized stare was met only with a wink.
He kept his shirt like that for the remainder of the day. Youād hardly been able to look at him without flushing a deep scarlet that only seemed to inflate his already generous ego even further.
But, youāre only human. And as the months passed by, and your friendship with the scarred mobster grew, you found yourself sneaking the odd peek every now and then. A glimpse of pectoral here; a hint of his rigid v-line when he stretched his arms over his head there.
And now, here he is, sitting in your small kitchen area awaiting the relief of the icy hot clutched in the tub that grew more slippery between your rapidly sweaty palms, every mouth watering inch of his upper body on display.
Beautiful. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Sanemi is unbelievably beautiful.
āNeed ya to rub it into my shoulder, if you donāt mind,ā his voice is muffled against his arm. āI hate asking, but I dislocated the damn thing and had to reset it ā fuckinā hurts, now.ā
You know better than to suggest he go get an x-ray. No hospitals, heād once explained. Not unless youāre bleeding out.
You also know better than to ask how he dislocated it, and so you only pad silently over to him, grateful heās turned away from you so he cannot see the tremble in your hands or the blush creeping across your cheeks.
Eager to give yourself something to do besides ogling, you focus on unscrewing the lid on the jar of liniment, your nose wrinkling under the burn of its stringent odor. You scoop a generous amount of the salve into your palms and warm it between your hands.
āMotherfucker,ā Sanemi hisses as your hands spread gently across his shoulder, your fingers gingerly massaging the topical into his swollen joint. āShit stings.ā
āYouāre lucky itās not broken,ļæ½ļæ½ you chide, carefully prodding along the joint in search of anything that may be amiss ā an odd lump or gap, signaling something hasnāt been reset properly. āAt least, I donāt think it is.ā
āYour medical expertise is astounding,ā Sanemi drolls, but he winces again as your fingers press against a particularly tender spot. You step away from him with a huff and fish your phone out of your pocket, hands still slathered with ointment.
āIām not a doctor,ā you shoot back. āAnd since you refuse to go see one, the best I can do it give you the advice of the internet.ā
You ignore his grumblings as you search for treatments for dislocated joints. You tap on the first link that appears and scroll, eyes narrowed as you read.
āYouāre in luck. It seems like you wonāt die,ā you say dryly. āBut youāre going to have a nasty bruise.ā You purse your lips, eyes scanning the article on your phone. āAnd this says youāre supposed to rest ā not overexert the joint.ā You reach to tug playfully on a lock of his hair. āI donāt suppose youāre actually going to do that, though.ā
He twists and flashes you a mischievous smirk over his shoulder. āYou know me too well, Princess.ā
You roll your eyes and snort, tossing your phone onto your table in favor of reaching for a discarded kitchen towel to wipe off the excess icy hot from your hands.
Youāre about to tell him to put his shirt back on and stop flaunting the muscles he just canāt seem to help but show everyone he has when your eyes snag on a mark that rests squarely between his shoulder blades.
You wouldnāt have noticed it but for the shiny redness surrounding it, a clear contrast to the rest of his skin. But the longer your stare at it, the more clear its abnormality. The mark is puffy and raised, but thereās a distinct pattern to it that makes the hair on the back of your neck curl.
A brand, you realize with horror. Someone has branded him like cattle.
Your finger reaches to trace over the ridges seared into his skin before you can think the better of it. Sanemi twitches under your touch, a small shudder skirting down his spine as he tilts his head back toward you.
āUgly, aināt it?ā His tone is unreadable. āLike a collar, ācept itās permanent.ā
Though he tends to err on the side of caution when it comes to discussing the Corps, you at least know what is role is within it. He told you: debt collector. Mostly monetary debts.
But the brand has nothing to do with money. No, the symbol burned into his skin ā the one that stands for Kill ā is a neon sign of a reminder that Sanemiās duties can and do entail another kind of collection.
A chill snakes down your spine. Youād had your suspicions, of course, youāre not stupid. But seeing it confirmed by a brand of all things is a lightning rod through your chest.
Sanemi must sense your stare against his back, and you hear his rueful smile though you canāt see his face. āGuess itās fitting, since Iām their dog.ā
There it is; confirmation of what he is, as though it were possible to forget. You donāt know why youād held out in letting its weight settle over you. Nor do you know why your brain had refused, for a moment, to reconcile the Sanemi who brought cheap beer and greasy fast food to your apartment for a night of trash television and book reviews with the one before you now, branded with inexorable reminder of what his duties are when he steps outside and debts go unpaid; when scores go uneven.
Your eyes slide to his gun, resting atop your table. It may has well have been smoking.
āItās barbaric,ā you murmur. You never offer much of an opinion on the tidbits of information about his life he shares with you, unwilling to make him feel as though you arenāt someone he can confide in.
But the sight of the brand scorched between his shoulder blades stokes something ugly and angry within you. Youāre grateful his back is to you so you can furtively rub your hand over your prickling eyes before he can see you do something stupid, like cry.
He tilts his head back until it rests against your abdomen. āThank you,ā he murmurs, his eyes drifting shut.
You freeze for a moment, your anger temporarily suspended against your uncertainty of whether you should step back or remain. Youāve touched Sanemi a thousand different ways ā youāve grabbed his arm, smacked him upside his thick head, and elbowed him more times than you can count.
But this; this is something far different from your teasing nudges of the past. This small gesture feels infinitely more tender. Gentle.
Intimate.
Sanemi has never not been the picture of cocky brashness, especially around you. His priggish smirk was a constant, only ever dampened by the occasional alert on his phone ā the one that meant he had to stop being yours for the night, and go be theirs.
But this Sanemi? This peaceful, eased, vulnerable version of your best friend is wholly uncharted territory. And perhaps itās because he looks so unguarded this way, his face relaxed and his eyes closed, that you feel so flustered.
You brush his hair away from his forehead. At the first graze of your fingers along his scalp, Sanemi leans further into you with something akin to a moan.
Hot; everything feels so damn hot, the air in your apartment suddenly too thick. Too oppressive.
Yet, you donāt stop; your fingers keep raking through his hair, surprisingly silky.
You think he may have fallen asleep in your chair, but after another moment of your hands carding through his hair, Sanemi stands. You step away instantly, and you avert your eyes while he pulls his shirt back over his head, cursing softly as he works it over his injured shoulder.
Sanemi turns to you and clears his throat roughly. āThanks again. Donāt know what I wouldāve done without ya.ā
You wave him off with an exaggerated eye roll, eager to conceal the redness in your cheeks. āOh please, Iām just your neighborhood book supplier and occasional first aid nurse.ā
A sudden sobriety passes over his features, clouding over that all too familiar smirk with something heavier.
āNo,ā he murmurs and his hand absently lifts to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. āNo, youāre more than that.ā His palm lingers against your cheek and his voice quiets to a hoarse whisper. āMuch more.ā
For a moment, you wonder if heāll lean in; if heāll show you whether his lips are as warm as his touch.
His eyes drop briefly to your mouth and your stomach somersaults at the thought he might be considering it, too. But the clouds part and Sanemi withdraws from you with an affection flick against the tip of your nose.
And then he turns and leaves.
You sink back against your door after you close it behind him and slide to your floor. You remain there for a long while after, your mind little more than a gnarled tangle of brambles you canāt begin to pick through. But even despite the complicated mess of thoughts and emotions knotted together in your head, one thing stands clear: youād wanted to kiss him.
And for a moment, you swear heād wanted to, as well.
An old rumor, one you hadnāt considered since your very first interaction with him, resurfaces in your mind. The one that had less to do with him in the Corps, and more so involved his activities outside of it.
The rumor that he cycles through the bodies he uses to warm his bed more frequently than you change the sheets on yours.
Your cheeks heat, and you shake your head to clear away the sudden, intrusive images of Sanemi tangled in the throes of passion with some faceless stranger that fill your imagination. You donāt care what those blasted rumors claim; you know him. And whatās more, you know that what you feel for him is stronger than anything youāve ever felt toward anyone.
Youāre in love with Sanemi.
It is his face you see at night before you fall asleep; itās his touch you imagine in those secret moments in your bed or in the shower, when youāre desperate and aching.
Itās he who makes you feel most at ease; the one person you feel truly sees you, thinks youāre actually worth something.
Youāve never really known love before. But itās because youāre such a novice that you know your feelings are true; powerful. You know what he is ā what he thinks he is. And you know that you will never want anyone else; you canāt.
You wonāt.
ā
Three rules. Thatās all he had to do, was follow three simple fucking rules.
Donāt speak. No patterns. And donāt get overly attached.
It had been easy, so easy, to follow them. If there was one thing Sanemi believed he could pride himself on, it had been his steadfast adherence to the Corpsā rules. Number three, in particular.
Until you. Until the day heād chosen your bookstore to hide in.
Because that was when Sanemi decided that those rules were really more like guidelines; malleable. Heād let himself cast them aside out of a desperation for human connection. And heād justified his carelessness by convincing himself that as long as he maintained some semblance compliance with the unspoken code of the Corps.
Sanemi had built his own set of rules around the foundation of his friendship with you, a wall of stone around the glass castle meant to ensure you would not be cut by its shards should it ever shatter.
He would not be your liability, nor would you be his.
But now, heās too deep; Sanemi knows heās gotten in way too fucking deep with you.
Until this moment, he imagined heād managed to toe the line of this internal code that applied only to his relationship with you, save a handful of instances when heād let himself blur it.
As it turns out, heād been dead fucking wrong. Because heās pretty sure you just asked him to cross the last major boundary heād set for himself when it came to you.
So, Sanemi only gapes at you. āWhat?ā
You huff, impatient. āI want you to fuck me.ā
You say it like itās the most obvious thing in the world ā as though you havenāt just ripped the floor out from beneath him and sent him falling directly on his ass.
If he didnāt know you were dead serious, he wouldāve laughed in your face. And thatās how he knows heās fucked.
Youāre a virgin; he knows that, because youād drunkenly confessed it to him two weeks prior, tipsy on the cheap beer heād brought over for your weekly movie night together.
Admittedly, heād been surprised. You were beautiful ā not that beauty was a requirement for a good fuck, but you didnāt seem the type to go for random hookups, unlike him. Still, he wouldāve thought youād had some prior relationship where the opportunity would have arisen.
As it turned out, youād never been in a relationship, either.
Between long gulps of your drink, youād asked him to fix it and heād turned you down ā his tolerance for watery beer far surpassed your own, and Sanemi Shinazugawa wasnāt the type to sleep with someone who couldnāt fully consent.
So heād let you down ā but not before he kissed you. It was only once; soft, the way you deserved to be kissed. His lips met yours and suddenly, the gaping hole in his chest felt smaller; fuller. Kissing you felt like coming home, even though Sanemi was sure heād never fully known what home truly felt like.
And then he parted from you with an affectionate flick on your nose to cover the way his heart clenched at the visible disappointment in your eyes.
Heād boldly kissed you twice more after that night ā one a quick, cheeky peck when you went in to hug him, an act done more to fluster you than to sate any desire of his, no matter how he craved more of you.
The other happened only three nights prior, and it was anything but soft and sweet.
One of Sanemiās fellow Hashira, Kanae, hadnāt been seen in several days, and no one had been able to get in touch with her. When sheād missed a scheduled patrol of one of the neighborhoods in the Silo, he and another member, Iguro, had been sent to check on her.
Theyād found her in the kitchen of the small home sheād shared with her two sisters with a hole in her head and her brains splattered across the floor.
Curled under the protective stretch of her limp arms, had been her two sisters, both bearing matching bullet wounds to their skulls.
Kizuki, most likely. They were the only ones brave enough to target someone as high ranked as Kanae.
Their blood had still been fresh, and the stench of decay and rot hadnāt yet set in, which only told them that the girls had been held for several days, forced to endure unknown horrors at the hands of their murderers.
He hadnāt been particularly close with the woman, but as his rank equal, sheād had his respect. But now she and her adolescent sisters were nothing more than smears of brain matter and skull fragments to be scraped off the linoleum of their kitchen floor and quietly buried. Forgotten.
The hours passed by in a blur once Kochoās death was called into the higher-ups, and Sanemi didnāt remember cleaning up the scene anymore than he remembered the solitary trek back. His mind and his body disconnected, and he only snapped back to reality when he realized he was standing in front of your apartment, unsure of how or when heād begun walking in its direction.
He knew he should turn around and go home; there was nothing you could do for him right then, he shouldnāt bother you ā
His fist was pounding on your door before he could think better of it.
Despite the late hour, youād greeted him with a broad smile and a shy hi. Your hair had been damp, and he could smell the floral sweetness of your shampoo still mixed with the steam from your shower as it spilled into the hall.
Safe; you were safe.
Your door had still been hanging wide open as Sanemi surged forward, trapping your face in his hands to crash his lips down against yours, his kiss heavy and hot.
Youād broken away long enough to ask, āS-Sanemi ā what ā?ā
āShut up,ā heād snarled, slanting his mouth back over yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Heād half expected you to shove him away, perhaps to even aim a knee right at his crotch, yet youād only buried your fingers in his hair and tugged him closer.
He backed you up against the wall opposite of your entryway, though heād moved his hand to cup the back of your head to keep it from banging against the exposed brick.
You moaned into the kiss and Sanemi lost whatever shred of sense heād managed to cling onto. His tongue swept along your bottom lip, and the hand cupping the back of your head loosely pulled at your hair, tugging your head to the side and signaling you to open up ā to let him in.
And you did. And the first brush of his tongue against yours as he licked into your mouth ignited an inferno within him that he did not know how to tame.
His hands pushed under your sweatshirt, seeking out the comforting warmth of your skin. Higher and higher they rose, until they came to rest against your ribs, and Sanemi realized you were bare ā completely bare ā beneath your hoodie.
That youād allowed him to toe so dangerously close to a line neither of you could cross had clouded every bit of his judgment. The thought that heād only have to move his hands mere centimeters to touch you in a way no other had before had sent him reeling, and his hips were beyond his control when they pinned yours against the wall and ground into you.
But your single gasp into his mouth broke the spell, and with more regret than Sanemi knew he should feel, he broke away, leaving you both breathless and panting.
Without a word, heād turned around and stalked right back out of your apartment, closing your door firmly behind him.
Heād sent a text only a few minutes later ā a single, ominous reminder to you to lock your door, deadbolt and all.
He hadnāt the stomach to explain his cryptic warning; not as the sight of Kocho remained burned into his retinas.
So, yes, heās blurred a few lines when it comes to you. But those had only been kisses; heavy touching aside, heād never allowed himself to go further than that.
No matter how much he wanted to.
And itās because he knows he canāt cross this last line ā canāt open you up to risk more than he already has, that he meets your expectant stare with a rueful smile.
āYouāre better off asking someone else, Princess. You donāt want to get tangled up with someone like me.ā
Never mind that youāre already tangled up with him ā but heās managed to uphold this last boundary, and Sanemi has convinced himself that as long as it remains in place, he canāt ruin you the way Kocho and her young sisters were ruined.
āI donāt want to ask someone else,ā you fold your arms across your chest and cock your hip out, defiant. Normally, Sanemi finds your stubbornness endearing, if not adorable, but not now; not when you should know better.
A low growl of your name is his warning. āYou donāt know what youāre asking āā
āItās you I want. I donāt care what the rumors say, I donāt care what anyone thinks ā including you.ā
The sincerity in your eyes nearly scalds him. āAnd I am not asking as a friend. You and I both know this is more than that.ā
He wants to throttle you. Not literally of course, he could never ā but he wants to shake the sense youāre so clearly lacking back into you until you see; until you understand.
Of course he wants you. He has wanted you for months ā so much so, he hardly can focus on anything else. And heās pent up. He hasnāt had the stomach to fuck anyone else. Not since he began falling asleep and waking up to thoughts of you and your touch, of how you might look under or above him, wanton and desperate. Or how you might feel in his arms; on his tongue.
Really, itās been quite a blow to his rather wild reputation throughout the Silo. But God knows he has tried to fill the you-shaped void in his heart, but nothing ā no one ā has come close.
More than anything, he wants you to be his, and for him to be yours. He longs to be the Sanemi who takes you out on dates, who kisses you freely without the compulsive need to check over his shoulder, to make sure there arenāt any enemies watching and plotting to strike him right where heās weak. He wants to be the Sanemi you come home to after a long day at the bookstore. The one with whom you plan a future, utterly and completely yours.
But he can never be just Sanemi. He is nothing more than the property of the very organization heās sworn allegiance to; the group whose brand he bears on his skin.
He is not good. He is a curse that will infect you, a poison to your life.
He will rot you from the inside, out.
His friendship with you is selfish. He knows that ā heās always known that, and yet he did not stop. It is selfish because he deluded himself into believing he could actually be someone else when he was with you. Someone worth befriending; perhaps someone worth a little more.
You were right to call him a thief, that day. All he does is take your time and affection when he knows damn well he wonāt give you anything in return, no matter how he wishes he could.
Sanemi wonāt label that thing he holds deep inside his heart which is formed in the shape of your name; not when it could so easily doom you both. But he knows his feelings for you are dangerous, and he cannot allow you to sniff them out.
Because if he does, then this only ends one or two ways: either he lets you in only for you to abandon him once you realize the truth of what he is, or youāre used as a weapon against him.
In either event, he loses you. So it is better to cut this off now, to force you away before either of you become more invested than you already are.
He will not hurt you, but neither will he allow himself to be hurt by you.
You take a step toward him, and the soft whisper of his name sounds like a holy prayer on your lips and thatās how he knows this is wrong.
Your obstinate refusal to recognize him for what he is is a needle digging into his skin, one that whittles away at every wall he has managed to build around his heart, that damnable, soft, dangerous thing that he will not allow you to find; he cannot.
Youāre confusing your roles. He is the vulture and you are his prey, not the other way around. he is not here to give. He is here only to take, and you will let him and then he will leave.
And he will not be the carcass you pick clean only to discard once youāve had your fill.
(A lie, but itās one Sanemi almost believes. Almost.)
But Sanemi knows you; he knows you better than he knows anything else. You are a constant he has become far too dependent upon, and you are precious ā far too precious to him to continue to indulging.
He knows you are too good, too loyal in your feelings to forget about him, even if he disappeared from your life entirely.
A clean break. it is the only thing that will force you to forget him and move on, find another, someone good and whole and not a broken, misshapen thing like him.
He will show you who he really is. He will show you that he could never be just Sanemi, and he sure as hell canāt ever be yours.
Better; you deserve better, so he will become worse.
He advances on you, his step heavy and imposing, and you have enough sense to scurry back from him. But he is too quick and soon he has you caged against the wall of your studio, literally backed into a corner.
āYou want me?ā He is scathing and he loathes himself for it, but he canāt stop. Not when heās desperate to save you from the blight of himself.
You shouldnāt; you canāt.
But you nod, damn you. Wide-eyed, you nod and he resents the certainty reflected in your gaze.
His mouth twists into a cruel sneer. āYou want to say youāve had a taste of the lowlife, huh?ā
Your eyebrows knit together. āSanemi, thatās not āā
But he canāt stop his venom. āBragging rights, thatās all youāre after, right? You want to be like one of the characters in your stories ā the good girl who makes an honest man outta the good-for-nothing villain.ā
āStop it,ā you bite, and your eyes harden. āYouāre acting like an asshole.ā
Youāre angry. Good. Sanemi knows how to deal in anger.
āHate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but Iām not acting like an asshole. I am one.ā
Your hackles raise, and you step away from the wall and toward him, bold in your fury. āI know you want to believe you are, but youāre not āā
Sanemiās hand shoots out to grab a fistful of your hair. āIs that so?ā You yelp as he wrenches your head back, your neck straining. āThen maybe I oughta bend you over and fuck you like I would any other cheap whore. Then you can tell me what you think I am.ā
Your eyes water as the grip in your hair tightens.
Good, he thinks savagely. Let you see the monster he truly was, let you know he was his bastard fatherās son, and that heād be no different, no different at all. Heās a brute, and you donāt want that, you donāt want him ā
āYou can do whatever it is you want,ā you manage, you throat tight. And Sanemiās eyes blow wide at the soft, watery smile that forms on your lips despite the tears that escape the corners of your eyes. āDo to me what you like; I donāt mind, as long as itās you.ā
All at once, his ire with you and your bewildering devotion to him melts away, leaving nothing behind but a deep well of guilt, bitter and acerbic.
It isnāt that you think he might take you forcefully and harshly; after all, heās only shown you heās entirely capable of doing so.
Itās that you would let him. Without a shred of doubt, he knows you would offer yourself to him to use however he wants, and that youād do it with a smile not unlike the one youāre wearing right now, soft and earnest.
Fuck, you just did.
And itās that realization that has Sanemiās hand loosening from your hair, his eyes softening. An errant tear escapes down your cheek and he moves to brush it away, but you close your eyes the moment you spy his knuckle nearing your face.
You do not flinch, but you are steeling yourself in anticipation of expected cruelty, and the front heās put forth crumbles to dust.
He is a monster, but not for the reasons heās used to justify this ugly display of his. Heās a monster because he has made you believe that this treatment is acceptable ā an unavoidable cost of intimacy, no matter how fleeting.
Worse, heās done the one thing heād sworn never to do to any woman, let alone someone as good and as dear as you.
Heād only wanted to disgust you; enrage you, so that you would kick him out of both your apartment and your life, right out on his sorry ass like he deserved.
But this is worse. He has frightened you.
He recoils from you like a kicked dog. āI didnāt mean to scare you.ā
He stands awkwardly as you stare at him, wide-eyed and uncertain, and each second that ticks silently by only amplifies the oily well of guilt in his stomach.
He clears his throat. āIāll go,ā he says roughly, too ashamed to meet your eyes. āāM sorry, I didnāt āā
Your hand grabs his bicep, anchoring him in place. āI want you to stay.ā
āYou donāt owe me anything āā
āItās not about owing you,ā you interject, lifting your hands to take his face between your palms. āI want you. I want this.ā
You prove your point by taking his hand and guiding it to your waist. You hold it there, mouth set in a determined line as you inch closer to him.
āYou deserve someone else,ā Sanemi canāt stop the admission from rolling off his tongue. āBetter.ā
But youāre already shaking your head, as though you somehow know different. āThere is no one better; I only want you.ā
Idiot, he thinks as you rise up on your tiptoes, your arms winding around his shoulders as the distance between your bodies grows narrower. Youāre an idiot.
You canāt possibly believe heās as good as it gets. Heās used you as a distraction this whole time, a chance to forget the things heās done and what heāll be required to do in the future. Surely, you must know that.
He will hurt you; itās in his nature. Itās unavoidable. He canāt be what you deserve.
But then your lips brush gently against his and the last of his resolve crumbles.
Sanemi melts into your kiss. He brings one hand to cradle the side of your face as the one braced against your waist shorts, until he wraps his arms around you and tugs you closer to him.
This kiss is gentle in every way the last was not. Sanemiās lips are soft moving against yours, his hands almost hesitant in how they hold you. For a moment, he imagines himself not as the selfish, hard brute he knows he is, but instead as the gentle, giving lover he wants so desperately to be. One who is worthy of someone as kind and vibrant as you, and not the trash youād be better off leaving out on the street.
The tentativeness with which he kisses you tempers some as his tongue flicks out against your bottom lip. You answer his silent request with enthusiasm, your fingers burying themselves in his hair as you haul yourself closer. The moment Sanemiās tongue sweeps into your waiting mouth, you buckle against him with the sweetest sigh heās ever heard. One of pure relief, as though youād been burning and he was your balm.
Ironic, considering heās only adding gasoline to this fire between you.
But thereās nothing he can do now except allow the flames to consume you both.
Soon, the shy curiosity with which he explores your mouth gives way to a mutual hunger, evident by how he feels as though heās boiling alive while you gasp and sigh into him, your fingers tugging pleadingly at his hair.
You want more, and he needs you, too.
His nose nuzzles against yours as he bends down, his hands running along the bare expanse of your legs. The ground beneath your feet disappears as Sanemi gathers you up easily into his arms.
One of your arms is looped around his neck while your other hand cups his face, turning it toward yours as he carries you to your bed. Your thumb smooths absently over the scar that cuts across his cheek and then your lips seek out his once more. His kiss is as gentle as the hand squeezing your waist, his fingers slotting into the gap between your sweatshirt and the top of your sleep shorts, stroking your skin.
He lays you out upon your mattress, grateful youād at least purchased a full bed rather than some shitty twin. Your hands untangle themselves from his hair and instead seek out the waistband of your sleep shorts, but Sanemi covers them with his, halting you.
āDonāt,ā he murmurs between quick, messy kisses. āLet me ā please.ā
Before you can respond, Sanemi sits back and grabs a fistful of his own shirt, yanking it over his head.
Your pupils blow wide at the sight of him and he feels himself hesitate. Sanemi has always felt an easy self confidence when it came to stripping in front of his partners for the night. Heād always been quite proud of his physique, relying on his considerable muscles to mask his deep loathing of his scars.
But in front of you, all sense of self-assuredness goes flying out the window, and suddenly he feels too exposed. His eyes drop to scour the planes of his chest ā have his scars always been this prominent? This thick?
āHoly shit,ā your soft sigh snaps his attention away from the howling inside his head. For one, petrifying moment, he thinks that you are as disgusted with his body as he is, but then he sees the pink flush staining your cheeks.
Your eyes roam hungrily over him and your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You meet his gaze and your pupils are blown wide with desire ā rich, hot need for him.
Your voice is little more than a sultry whisper. āCome here.ā
He moves eagerly to cover your body with his, his hair rumpled and his eyes bright as his lips press hurriedly against yours. Your hands smooth over his pectorals and tease down his abdomen until heās panting, but the moment your nails rake along the skin on either side of his navel, Sanemi moans.
More. He needs more.
He hauls you up from the bed, straddling you across his lap, his hands notched behind your knees as they press into the mattress. You reconnect your lips in a heated kiss, one hand playing with the ends of his snowy hair, the other dropping down his back, settling over the brand seared between his shoulder blades. Covering it.
Yes, he thinks as he nips your bottom lip, urging your mouth to open so he can slide his tongue in to dance with yours. Yes, this is fitting. Because in his ideal world, his life with you would come before any other ā including his with the Corps.
Sanemiās lips begin trailing hotly down your jaw, pausing when he reaches your neck. He finds a particularly sensitive spot with a nip of his teeth that he soothes with his tongue, and he hums in approval at the faint, breathy whimpers that squeak past your lips as you tilt your head, offering more of yourself to him.
The ache burgeoning in his groin in response to your display is enough to drive him insane; he has never wanted anything in his life as badly as he wants this ā you.
As his mouth continues its heated path, his hands find the hem of your hoodie. With a gentleness that surprises even him, Sanemi begins charting your skin with his fingers. With every new plane of your body he explores, he pushes your sweatshirt up, up, up, until he guides it over your head.
He tosses it to the side, not caring for where it lands. His attention is focused solely on you as you fall back against your bed, now bare from the waist up.
āBeautiful,ā he marvels, eyes running over the slope of your shoulder and tracing the curve of your breasts. āSo fuckinā beautiful.ā
He savors every hitched breath, every chill that ripples over your skin as he explores your body with his mouth and hands. Over the years, Sanemi has become well acquainted with the magic of the female body. Heās always liked how soft women were compared to him. He isnāt a picky man; heāll celebrate them all, regardless of their shape or size.
But you? Celebration isnāt enough; you deserve nothing less than outright worship.
āYou feel so damn good,ā he mutters against your breast before closing his lips over your nipple and sucking hard. You bow off the bed with a keening moan that gutters out into something more ragged as his hand covers the other, pinching and rolling your stiffened bud between his fingers.
He could spend all night like this, lavishing your soft mounds with his mouth. But Sanemi knows that wonāt be enough to satisfy the hunger gnawing at both of you, so with a tinge of regret, he forces himself to move on, descending your body in alternating kisses and nips.
He reaches the waistband of your shorts and his eyes flash to yours as he tugs on it with his teeth. The hot exhale of his breath below your navel sends goosebumps across your skin. Sanemiās fingers inch below the hem of your shorts until he loops his hands around the waistband, and he yanks them down your legs in a single, fluid motion.
His eyes rake down your body, taking in every beautiful inch. A blush forms on his cheeks as he realizes all that separates you from him is your simple pair of black underwear.
He sits back, eager to join your near-nudity. His hands are quick, if not a little clumsy, as he finds his belt buckle. The instant the metal clicks and the leather around his hips loosens, Sanemi shoves off his pants, eagerly kicking them off your bed until he is left in nothing but his briefs.
Your eyes fall to where the evidence of his desire protrudes stiffly from between his legs. Sanemi watches your throat pulse as you try to stifle your small gulp, your thighs tensing beneath him in an effort to press together.
He can sense your nerves; can see by the way your eyes dart anxiously between his and the rigid tent in his briefs.
With a gentle smile, Sanemi leans in and soothes your unease with his lips. āWeāll take it as slow as you want. Iām not in any rush.ā
āN-now?ā You murmur between kisses, and he nearly seizes at the hesitant, questioning brush of your fingers against the underside of his shaft.
āNot yet,ā he groans against your mouth. āI gotta make sure youāre ready first.ā
āI am ready -ā
āNot like that,ā he cuts off your protest by ghosting his fingers up the covered seam of you. Sanemi circles his finger around where he thinks your clit is, and he smirks when your head tips back against your pillow, your mouth widening in a silent o.
āFound you,ā he croons, repeating the movement again until your legs begin to twitch beneath him.
He makes quick work of your underwear, tossing them over the side of your bed without much thought. The sight of you bare beneath him nearly stops his heart dead in his chest. His eyes drop to the neat thatch of curls resting at the apex of your thighs, and his mouth waters.
You blush under the intensity of his appreciative stare, and your legs twitch, as though you mean to close them.
A hand sliding between your thighs restrains you from doing so. āUh-uh,ā he tuts. āCanāt hide from me now, sweetheartā.ā
He smooths his hand down the length of your leg until it hovers just outside where heās most eager to explore. The heat radiating from sends his pulse skyrocketing.
One, tentative finger circles your entrance, testing. Sanemi leans in to capture your lips with his as he pushes in, swallowing your soft gasp with his tongue that he slides into your parted mouth.
A moan vibrates in his chest in time with a faint whimper that sounds in the back of your throat as Sanemi begins exploring you. Youāre tight; almost impossibly so, clenching and pulsing around the single finger he gradually sinks inside you, pushing deeper with every gentle pump of his hand.
The thought of your tight, wet heat constricting around the aching length of him just as you were around his finger makes him dizzy with want.
He wonāt go down on you, he decides. Not tonight. Not when heās throbbing this badly after just a couple of fingers; not when your breasts are so plush and soft pressed against his chest where youāre already arcing up into him, sending his mind wild with thoughts of how youāll move under him; how youāll moan.
His lips are hot against your neck, trailing down past your collarbone. Left behind are a series of purplish-maroon whorls blooming beneath his mouth, your skin quickly becoming a tapestry for him to display how badly he wants this. You.
You cling to him, one hand buried in his hair, pulling and tugging at him as the other clutches wildly at his shoulder, your fingers digging hard into his muscles. Your teeth are buried into your bottom lip in an effort to stifle your whimpers, but a needy whine slips out as Sanemi sucks one, soft breast into his mouth, his tongue flicking out across your pert nipple.
Another finger slides into your entrance as his thumb works your clit, and before long, youāre vibrating beneath him, unrestrained in how you moan and cry out for him so beautifully.
āSanemi! I think ā oh, I think Iām -ā but then he crooks his fingers, brushing against a rough spot deep within you that makes you writhe. You thrash back hard against the bed, your hips grinding against his hand with abandon.
He smothers a curse into your skin. Youāre close and he knows it; can feel it in the way your walls flutter and pulse around him. And as desperate as he is to study how you fall apart, itās too soon.
āNot yet,ā he pants against your breast, circling your nipple with his tongue before imparting a final nip at the soft flesh and drawing back.
Remorseful, he pulls his fingers away from you, leaving you panting and flushed under him. But the hot, searing flames of desire burning beneath his skin intensify still, as he takes your hand and guides it between your legs.
āThere. Feel how wet you are?ā His voice is husky with want. You peer up at him through heavily lidded eyes as you nod, a whimper vibrating in your throat as Sanemi grinds your hand against your sensitive flesh.
āFor you,ā your voice is syrupy and warm, and damn if Sanemi doesnāt feel like he could get drunk on it. āItās all for you.ā
His tone sharpens into something possessive; hungry. āThatās right,ā and he pushes your hand firmly against your clit and rotates it, eliciting a deep moan from you. āBecause youāre mine.ā
Itās not fair. But he wants to pretend like itās true, if only for a while.
Once your fingers are sufficiently shiny with your own wetness, he brings your hand to his mouth, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. Slowly and languidly, he drags it up the side of your digits, and his eyes burn into yours as he slides your fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean.
It takes everything in him not to moan at the sweet taste of you that floods his tongue.
Heād made the right decision in not going down on you. If he had, heād never be able to pull away; not until his face had become so adorned with your essence that he could not comprehend anything that wasnāt you. Not until you were trembling under him and begging for a break.
The first time you cum will be on him; with him. So as much as it pains him, he resists your temptation.
But not before you know; not before you understand exactly how wild you drive him. How much you threaten his sanity.
āJesus Christ,ā he rasps as he pulls your hand away from his mouth. āHere.ā
His hand his gentle but firm as he grips your chin, squeezing your jaw until your mouth parts. The question in your gaze dissolves, your eyes instead rolling back into your head, as Sanemi slides the two fingers heād just had between your thighs, still covered in your wetness, past your lips.
āGo on,ā he orders, his other hand brushing your hair from your face. āTaste how fuckinā perfect you are.ā
The moan that slips free from your lips is one he wishes he could bottle up as your tongue caresses his fingers, your cheeks hollowing so fucking perfectly around him as you dutifully clean yourself from him.
Fuck, youāre trying to kill him.
But some of the burning he feels ebbs as the sobering weight of whatās to come settles over him; the magnitude of what he is about to do. Because no matter what happens after, nothing between you will be the same. Whatever else you are after tonight ā whether thatās something or nothing ā you will never be just friends again.
Sanemi supposes the punishment fits his crime; this is what he gets for getting in too deep with you, even if it means losing you entirely.
He chases away those thoughts by running his hands down your sides before he pulls back, leaving you in favor of shucking his briefs down his thighs.
Finally bare, heās quick to drape his body over yours once more, his hands smoothing up and down your sides, unable to quench his need to feel your skin against his. But a foreign uncertainty stills him, and his eyes flash to yours, hesitant.
āAre you sure?ā
You answer only by reaching to grip the back of his neck, tugging him down to meet your lips, your kiss feverish and urgent.
He doesnāt have a condom but heās in too deep now to stop. In a way, what is about to happen is new to him as well. Heās never fucked anyone raw before. No matter who heād had in his bed, no matter how much they begged him or assured him they were on birth control, heād always been sure to have protection on hand.
Children are a gift, but heād be damned if anyone tried to come after him and demand he raise one in his fucked up world. Either Sanemi got out or he never became a parent; there was no middle ground.
But once again, he is blurring boundaries where you were concerned, and Sanemi doesnāt think he knows how to stop himself from having the full taste in the indulgence that was you.
āIt might hurt a moment,ā he admits against your mouth, his voice raspy. āBut I promise Iāll be gentle ā as gentle as I can.ā
You stretch to kiss him again, your lips soft and warm and everything he loves. āI trust you.ā
You shouldnāt, he wants to say. You shouldnāt, and you should run far away from this ā from me.
But Sanemi knows you wonāt just as much as he knows he doesnāt have it in him to try and chase you away, and so he only kisses you back, slow and indulgent.
He breaks away from you with a soft groan and sits up on his knees. His back straight, Sanemiās hands curl around your hips and he tugs you forward until your backside is flush against his thighs.
The heat radiating from you pulls him in like a magnet as he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. A vein above his brow ticks, the only outward sign of the battle raging within him as his self restraint wars with his tantalizing urge to impale you on the thick, throbbing length of him, desperate for the sweet relief only your body can give.
Every inch of him trembles as Sanemi presses his hips forward. āFuck,ā he exhales shakily, pushing his tip past your entrance. āFuck.ā
His head falls back and the muscles in his throat strain. Some small, needy sound leaves him and the fingers on your hip tighten nearly to the point of pain.
The noise registers in the back of your mind, and vaguely, you recognize it as a whimper. You wonder whether he makes that sound for the others; somehow you doubt it, given that he does it again, only now in the shape of your name.
The rumors always said he never asked for names; he was a one-and-done kind of man. A great fuck, but not someone to go to if you were looking for comfort; softness.
Once again, Sanemi is nothing but a collection of contradictions, especially where youāre concerned.
Sanemi hisses as he slowly eases into you. Despite your wetness, youāre impossibly tight, and your body is a live wire hell bent on pushing out his intrusion.
With a deep groan, he falls forward, one arm shooting out to land near your head to catch himself before he can crash into you. His weight carefully braced above you, Sanemi shifts, widening the stance of his knees. Your legs slide up his waist, locking at your ankles at the base of his spine.
His cock is barely a quarter of the way inside your heat when he pulls out. A whine of protest mounts in your throat, but it quickly flickers out when he presses his leaking tip to your clit and grinds. A soft moan slips out of you when he repeats the movement again, and your thighs widen, your hips tilting up to allow him easier access.
Sanemi circles the head of his cock once more against your sensitive nub, coating himself in more of your sticky wetness, before he slides back into your entrance. This time, your body parts more easily around him, sucking him in rather than trying to squeeze him out.
āThere you go, thatās it,ā his breath is hot against your ear, his lips trailing silkily across your jaw. āThatās my girl.ā
Halfway in, Sanemi brushes against that thin barrier that separates him from the rest of you, and he stills.
He pulls his head back from your neck, and moves his hand out from between your legs to cup your cheek.
āReady?ā His thumb strokes over your cheekbone, tender and soft.
There is a tightness building in your abdomen, a foreign pressure that isnāt entirely unwelcome, but neither is it wholly comfortable. You brace a hand at your side, balling your sheets into your fist as you steady yourself, flushed and panting beneath the scar speckled man holding rigidly still above you.
Your eyes flick up once, and you see the tightness in his jaw; the tremble in his limbs as he fights against the urge to relief the friction mounting where you are joined.
You swallow around the lump of anticipation lodged in your throat. Your breath is shaky, but at last, you manage a single āPlease.ā
With a groan, he grips himself around his base and slowly, he presses forward. There is a sharp prick that shoots deep in your lower abdomen as Sanemi surges past that thin inner wall.
You cannot stop your cry of discomfort from ringing out anymore than you can stop the surprised tears which escape the corners of your eyes as the sharp pain between your legs intensifies.
But then Sanemiās lips are there, kissing away your tears, and the hand heād used to guide himself into your body skims along the outside of your thigh, hiking your leg higher up his waist before it drops to rub gentle circles into your hip.
āIām sorry,ā he murmurs between soothing caresses of his lips against your cheeks and across your eyelids. āIām sorry. Iām sorry.ā
He coos his string of apologies as his cock continues to push into you. On and on he sinks, his length endless, and you begin to think your body will split in two before you find the end of his.
Just before you reach your limit, Sanemi stills, fully embedded in your heat. He pants through gritted teeth, his jaw locked against the way youāre constricting around him so tightly itās nearly painful.
Itās unreal; not only does Sanemi realize how much fucking better sex feels without the restriction of a condom, but heās also bashed over the head with the realization that you were made for him. For nothing, no one has ever felt as incredible as you.
Nothing in his life has ever felt so right.
Sanemi has always been someone who fucks fast and hard. Heād had no objective other than to escape for a few, blissful moments in the body of another as he pretended not to feel the hollowness in his chest, or the throb of his own self-loathing.
With you, however, he wants nothing more than to relish every movement of your body against his, to savor your every gasp and sigh; to learn what makes you lose control.
You are no temporary distraction; he wants to know you.
He drops his forehead against yours and waits, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion of him.
He trails his lips across your collar bone and down to the twin swells of your breasts, sucking softly at your plush skin as you fidget and squirm beneath him. One broad hand skirts down the outside of your thigh until he finds your knee, and gently he guides your leg around his hips. The other he leaves relaxed against the bed, your foot resting somewhere against his calf.
When your eyes flutter open and find his, he knows youāre ready. So he moves his arm out from between your bodies and winds it instead around your waist, deepening the arch in your back until his chest is flush with yours.
His lips press to your forehead, a silent warning that he is about to move.
And then Sanemi begins molding your body to the shape of his.
He starts slow. He doesnāt withdraw far from you, instead focusing on rolling his hips against yours. Each churn of his groin pushes his cock deeper into your warmth, and soon, your timid whimpers melt into soft moans as your initial discomfort gives way to pleasure.
Encouraged by the way your body starts to relax in his embrace, Sanemi tests drawing his cock out a few inches before plunging back into you.
Before long, the room fills with the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, and Sanemiās moans join yours as he rapidly becomes lost in the euphoria of your wet, tight heat.
One of your arms jumps to lock around his ribs, your nails sinking into his skin as you anchor yourself to him.
His hand snakes across the sheets in search of yours. When he finds it, fisted against your sheets, he pries your fingers loose, winding them with his and he wraps your arm around his shoulders.
āTighter,ā he gasps. āHold me tighter. Please.ā
Your fingers dig into the muscles of his back and Sanemi groans his approval.
And then heās rolling to his side, pulling you along with him until youāre stretched out across the length of your mattress, chest to chest.
His hand grips under your thigh, tugging it over his hip as he rocks harder into you. āTalk to me, angel,ā the hand under your thigh moves to splay across your rear, pushing and pulling your hips in time with his as he grinds. āTell me how you feel ā tell me what you want.ā
You cry out, mournful, as Sanemi draws out his cock nearly to its tip before he plunges back into you.
The fullness you feel is overwhelming. You canāt stand that empty feeling, even for a moment. So you hitch your leg higher around his hip, and dig the heel of your foot into the firmness of his ass, limiting his movements.
āCloser!ā You gasp. āI ā I need you closer.ā
He needs that too, he decides; craves it. He doesnāt want to feel any space between your bodies. He wants ā he needs ā to be so enraptured with you that there is no point in trying to separate. That way, he might get to keep you for just a little longer.
Sanemiās hand massages your backside, his cock throbbing with every push into you. āDeeper,ā he confirms between throaty groans. āYou want me deeper?ā
You bury your face into his shoulder. Your teeth sink into his skin and with a moan, you nod.
He can do that; is more than happy to, as a matter of fact.
So, with a faint snarl, Sanemi grips the fat of your ass and spreads you wide, and he begins thrusting, hard.
The new angle allows the tip of his cock to bump up against a sweet spot deep inside you. Sanemiās eyes narrow at the way your head drops back, a loud cry tearing from your throat.
Determined to hit that point within you again and again, he shifts his hips under you while hiking your leg higher up his hip, his fingers digging into the curve of your ass.
Itās a success; soon, your wails echo throughout your studio, punctuated by every punishing slap of his skin against yours.
Really, he canāt give less of a damn at how thin your apartment walls are. The sounds pouring from your mouth are the prettiest fucking thing heās ever heard.
Something hot and electric mounts quickly in your stomach with each of his frenetic movements. Youāve come before with your own hand, but this ā this is something different. Something far more intense, something that threatens to rip you apart from your very sanity until you know nothing but him.
You try and tell him youāre losing control but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper.
But he knows; he knows exactly what you need.
āIām here, baby, Iām here. Iāve got you.ā And with that, Sanemi rolls you back underneath him, settling into the cradle of your thighs and pushing his cock faster and deeper into you. His arms gently unwind yours from his shoulders, and he brings them up over your head, one large hand pinning them down.
āIāll take care of you, sweet girl,ā he promises, and he weaves the fingers of the hand keeping you pressed against the mattress with your own. āJust keep your legs around me.ā
Your thighs squeeze his waist in silent answer, your mind far too suspended in the throes of your pleasure to do anything else.
With his lips trailing along your neck leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses in its wake, his free hand slides between your sweat-slicked bodies. He wedges it between where his groin is pressed to yours, and he searches along your sensitive, swollen folds, seeking the spot between your thighs that made you tremble and whine for him earlier.
You jolt under him as his fingers find you again, that foreign, electric sensation sparking deep in your abdomen. āSanemi āā
āItās okay,ā he murmurs sweetly, pressing down on your clit until you arch further into him with a gasp. āItās gonna feel so good, baby, I promise. Just focus on me.ā
Each rotation of his hand against your sensitive bead matched the deep, pointed roll of his groin, with Sanemi capping the end of every powerful thrust with alternating pulses of his thumb. The pressure he uses mounts with every churn of his hips, and the moan vibrating in your chest as another surge of sticky wetness gushes from your thighs is the sweetest sound he thinks heās ever heard.
A broken chant of please please please stutters its way out of you, spurning him to go faster; hit deeper.
And Sanemi only knows how to oblige you.
āYouāre doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Just keep letting me take care of you ā- thatās it.ā He curses as you clench down around him, crying out in approval at his praise. āYeah, yeah. Youāre my fuckinā girl, arenāt you?ā
A single wail of his name is your only response, but itās enough of a confirmation to damn you both.
āYou are,ā he affirms, his voice taking on the timber of a growl. āMine. Youāre fuckinā mine.ā
His thrusts grow sloppier with every second, though each is punctuated by a silent, recurring chant of mine, mine, mine. Though your eyes are closed, Sanemi can spy a faint sliver of white peeking out from between your eyelids.
Youāre close; he can feel it. And he knows, as the walls of your cunt flutter and tighten around him, that your climax will be his undoing.
The hands he has pinned against the mattress over your head flex as you twist and writhe beneath him. your head tosses from from side to side, and the vibrato of your cries rises octave by octave. Every muscle in your body is tense; you are a live wire thrumming with a need to come apart that he knows you do not fully understand.
Sanemi grunts as he fucks you harder into your bed, no longer concerned with keeping his weight off you. He will show you; he will show you how to shatter, and then he too, will break.
But he needs to see you, first.
āLook at me,ā his voice beckons you back from the precipice of ruin. āLook at me, Y/N.ā
Your eyes open to meet his and suddenly youāre right back at that edge, only this time, youāre falling freely over it, plummeting down a drop that has no end.
āS-Sanemi ā!ā Itās all you can manage before the knot steadily building in your stomach unravels. Your back arcs sharply away from your bed, and Sanemi ducks his head to smother his own cry against your breast as he takes its tip into his hot mouth.
Your hips jerk and twitch against his, your cunt seizing around him with force that threatens to squeeze the life out of him. Above you, your arms strain and pull against his grip as you writhe and sing for him.
āThatās it baby, thatās it,ā Sanemiās praise is muffled against your sternum, though it is strangled as he nears his own end. āFuck!ā
Heāll have to buy you the morning-after pill tomorrow, he realizes as you continue to come apart so beautifully on his cock, a soft chant of his name the only thing on your lips. He will not force you to bear the consequences of his own selfishness; he will not saddle you with his burden.
But heās also not strong enough to pull out; not when your body feels like it was made for him, not when your sweet cunt is gripping him this hard, is this wet ā all because of him.
He is selfish and he is weak; itās a toxic combination, and yet he knows cannot stop.
Sanemiās hips snap a final time against yours, pushing them up and away from the mattress, pressing deeper than he thought possible. His eyes roll back as his own orgasm rocks through him, powerful and blinding, and the growl that built in his throat melts into a strained groan.
He holds you in place, his cock pulsing in time with your cunt while the two of you ride out the waves of your climax together, his cum steadily filling you with his warmth. Your hands skirt down the length of his arms, blindly searching for his hips. When you find him, you pull and tug, a faint whine sounding from the back of your throat. Sanemi answers your plea with a broken moan of his own and he rocks against you, your hips circling with his until he finally lets you collapse against your mattress, limp-limbed and exhausted.
He follows you down, smothering you with his weight as he clings to you like a lifeline, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
āFuck, you did so good, sweetheart. So fuckinā good.ā He moans into your ear before he pulls back, his eyes searching your face as he pants.
One hand cradles your jaw and his thumb strokes repeatedly over the flushed curve of your cheek. āYou okay?ā
You donāt answer right away, your eyes shut tight, and Sanemi feels panic bubble hot in his stomach. The hand cupping your face tightens with his worried call of your name, his fear rearing its ugly head, ready to rip him apart, to turn him into the horrid monster heās always known he was ā
āI love you,ā and then youāre peering up at him, eyes round and shining with emotion he does not deserve to feel. āI love you, Sanemi.ā
It wouldāve hurt less if youād shot him.
Whatever wall remained around his heart cracks and crumbles under the weight of your confession. Sanemi does not answer, cannot find the words to adequately capture the depth of his feelings.
Instead, he snatches you up into his arms, crushing your body against his.
He kisses your lips and then your cheek. One hand cups the back of your head, his fingers burying into your hair as he presses your face into his chest. His arms tremble as he holds you close, every hard ridge of him cradled against your soft curves. He feels your smile against his collarbone, and the way your fingers dance up and down his spine that makes him melt.
It hits him, then. You arenāt waiting for an answer ā you said it only so he would know, and youād not expected anything in return.
All youād done was give while he took and took. Your body. Your love.
He doesnāt deserve any of it.
Whatever or whomever came after this would never compare to you. Truthfully, Sanemi doesnāt think it would be worth trying anything different. Everything now began and ended with you ā including him.
He twists his head to kiss you again and again, your lips meeting his with a sleepy enthusiasm.
He pants as he breaks away. āāM gonna pull out ā might be uncomfortable for a second.ā
You wince at the sudden stab of cold left behind by Sanemiās retreating warmth. He shifts back onto his knees and slides his hands down your thighs, parting them.
A low whistle blows past his lips. āDamn, I made a mess outta you.ā
For a moment, Sanemi canāt tear his eyes away from the sight between your legs; the sight of him trickling out you, staining the sheets below. But some of that hot, possessive pride that wells in his chest tempers at the small smear of blood staining your inner thigh.
His fingers massage your legs in silent apology. āLet me clean you up.ā
Your hands shoot to grasp at his shoulders, a pleading whimper on your lips. āDonāt leave ā not yet.ā You bite your lip, your eyes wide and anxious. āPlease, can you just hold me for a bit?ā
Sanemiās eyes soften and his heart throbs painfully in his chest. He canāt imagine leaving you; not now, not ever. No matter how stupid and selfish that makes him.
Heād be lying if he said he didnāt know the source of your anxiety ā or that you didnāt have reason for it. Sanemi isnāt known for lingering.
But this is different ā youāre different. Youāre not some temporary distraction. Youāre everything. His everything.
āShhh,ā he maneuvers you easily atop him, settling you in against the length of his torso, his hands smoothing up and down the column of your spine. āIām staying right here, sweet girl. Iām not goinā anywhere.ā
He seals his promise with a gentle kiss against your forehead before laying his cheek against your temple, cradling you to his chest.
Finally, you relax against him, convinced. He lays with you for a long time after, one hand on the back of your head, his fingers rubbing against your scalp until you fall asleep on against him, safe and sound and warm.
Minutes pass, or maybe hours. But Sanemiās head does not quiet, not even under the soothing sounds of your deep, slow breaths as you dream.
He must have lost his mind. There is no other explanation for the way heās disregarded every rule, every boundary heās ever made sense of, all in the name of you. In a single evening, you managed to obliterate every last defense, every barricade heād safely cowered behind, and now that the castle has fallen, he isnāt quite sure what heās supposed to do with the rubble.
What he does know is that thereās no putting things back to how they were.
His eyes search your sleeping face because if you were able to make him question nearly everything that made sense in his life, then surely you must also have the answers he needs to re-strike balance in his tilted world. Maybe they lie among the lashes that tickle your cheek, or in the occasional twitch of your mouth between your deep inhales.
But Sanemi is only left feeling more confused the longer he watches you. Because, despite the way he feels vulnerable and exposed at how easily he has been stripped of his guard, he canāt quite bring himself to believe it was entirely your doing.
His eyes widen. Thereās his answer.
Perhaps you are not trying to sink your nails into his flesh to peel it back, to demand he be stripped to the bone for you to inspect, to scrutinize and use as you please.
Perhaps that is what youāve done to yourself, and youāre waiting to see if you will join you; to know if he can volunteer his vulnerability, rather than wait for someone to come and force it from him.
He cannot make any promises. He has spent so much of his life cowering behind the armor he crafted out of his scars and his sneers and barks that were always more ferocious than his bite, that he does not know how to take it off. He does not know how to navigate the world without its weight, both his safety net and his chain. And there is an understanding in your eyes that signals you know that, too.
But he can try.
He mouths I love you against your hairline ā he does not voice it, not yet, though itās what he feels. But your love is a compass that just might point him down the road the leads to a life he so desperately wants; to you.
And heāll get there, maybe.
In time.
LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS APPRECIATED!
#demon slayer#sanemi shinazugawa#kimetsu no yaiba#kny#kny x reader#kny fanfic#kny sanemi#sanemi x reader#kny fic#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer smut#kny smut#shinazugawa sanemi#sanemi x you#sanemi smut#demon slayer sanemi#kimetsu no yaiba sanemi#sanemi x y/n
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Not sure if you've written for Iwaizumi yet, but all the fics I see have him as the dominant one and I can't help but want to big spoon that man. Like what if he's totally whipped for the reader? What if he just needs to be taken care of? All that's to say can I request an Iwaizumi fic where he's the one being taken care of for once? You can do whatever you want with this request since it wasn't overly specific!
A/N: Okay, so I originally planned to write just a short drabble about this, but my fingers got ahead of my brain and now itās turned into a whole fic. I promise Iāll write a thirst piece later that focuses entirely on spoiling him. I hope you enjoy this!
CW: iwa has feels but no established relationship, sub iwa, gn!dom! reader, college au, cuddling, praise, lots of it, hand job, crying, and a bit of edging
WC: 3.8K
Iwaizumi always took pride in his assertive, no-nonsense attitude. It sometimes made him come off harsher than he intended. Yet, hereās the thing: his usual sharp words seemed to evaporate in your presence. You were just so warm and comforting. He couldnāt help but feel a lump in his throat when you smiled at him or placed your hands on his hips to slide past him. He was supposed to be the one doing that to you, damn it!
He decided he had to avoid you. It was the only way to stop these confusing feelings from intensifying. It had become worse lately; just last night, he had a vivid dream about sucking your breasts as you praised him.
Iwaizumi's eyes involuntarily squeezed shut, as he tried to suppress the embarrassing memories that flooded his mind. But before he could regain his composure, your voice pierced through the haze, "You alright, Hajime? Here, take this." He snapped his eyes open, catching sight of you sitting across from him, munching on a protein bar and offering him one. The sight of you, so calm and collected, only made him feel more flustered. His cheeks grew hot as he struggled to maintain his usual stoic demeanor.
āO-oh, uh, thanks. Just a little tired, thatās all,ā he mumbled, trying to downplay his awkwardness. He took the protein bar, his hands fumbling with the wrapper as he attempted to appear nonchalant. Inside, he was mortified. Why did you have to approach him now, of all times? He felt like such an idiot. Seeing him all alone like that would surely draw your attention to him.
āStay up too late partying? Let me guess, Toru has a hangover and skipped,ā you mused aloud with a small eye roll at the setterās dramatics, taking another bite of your snack.
Hajime smiled, a small chuckle escaping his lips. āI told that dumbass he shouldnāt be taking so many shots, but he doesnāt listen when heās drunk,ā he said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation as he tried to maintain a composed demeanor.
Hajime's face fell as you let out a giggle at his remark, his embarrassment evident as his face flushed. "When does he listen to you, though?" you teased, a playful smile spreading across your lips.
Hajime's hand rose to his hair, his fingers raking through the strands in a nervous gesture. "Sometimes I feel like all I do is yell at him," he said, his voice laced with frustration as he reflected on his tumultuous history with Oikawa.
You couldn't help but indulge in a sympathetic coo at his confession. "Sounds like you need a break, huh?" you suggested, your tone gentle and understanding. Hajime's eyes widened as he drew in a sharp breath, trying to stop the blood now rushing to his lower regions.
āW-what do you mean?ā Hajime asked, his voice low and husky, his words barely above a whisper. You bit back a smile, trying to maintain a neutral expression as you gazed at him. His attempts to hide his emotions were laughable, his face a picture of confusion and embarrassment. You could read all the emotions he was feeling right now, and it made you lick your lips.
"Aren't you tired of always being the one in charge?" you asked, your voice soft and enticing. "I bet it would be nice to be pampered, hmm?" You spoke the words slowly, letting them hang in the air as you subtly shifted your position to brush your foot against his leg. The gentle touch sent a shiver through his body, and he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest as your ankle teased against his own.
"I-I mean, yeah. It would be nice, considering exams are approaching," Hajime replied, his tone cautious as he struggled to decipher the intentions behind your words. He wasn't sure if you were genuinely trying to be helpful, or if you were just being playful or even flirtatious. As a result, he decided to err on the side of caution and keep his response neutral, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read between the lines.
"What are you doing for the rest of the day?" you asked, your question innocuous enough, but your foot's subtle withdrawal from his leg sent a pang of disappointment through him.
"Well, my afternoon class got canceled since my professor is sick, so I don't have much to do," His voice trembled slightly as he asked the follow-up question, "W-why do you ask?" but he made a conscious effort to hide his emotions, not wanting to reveal the flutter in his chest that had accompanied his words.
"Hmmm, I don't have any more classes either," you said, a thought suddenly occurring to you as you looked at him. "Why don't you come back to my apartment? I don't think I've ever shown it to you," you suggested, a sense of surprise and awareness washing over you as you realized the truth - you'd never actually invited him over before.
"Whaā?" He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Sure," he said, adopting a polite tone to mask his surprise. "What time would be best for you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to gauge your intentions.
"Right now, silly!" you exclaimed, standing up and tugging him along by the hand. He let out a surprised gasp as he had no choice but to follow you, his eyes fixed on your retreating back.
"Don't worry, I'm only a five-minute walk from here," you teased, leading him out of the campus. You finally released his wrist, and he fell into step beside you, his pace relaxed.
A small chuckle escaped his lips as he gazed at you. "I wasn't worried," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Oh yeah. You probably run long distances for cardio conditioning, right?" you chattered as you two turned a corner on the sidewalk. "I hate running; I couldn't imagine," you added.
"It's not that bad, for me anyway," he replied carefully. Normally, he would have scoffed at someone who complained about a particular exercise, but with you, he found himself strangely indifferent. In fact, your aversion to running had suddenly made him less enthusiastic about it himself.
"Really?" you pondered. "I like mountain biking more; the views are so pretty," you said, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
The conversation flowed effortlessly between you two as you strolled through the bustling streets, the sounds of the city serving as a pleasant background hum. Before long, you led him to your apartment, and you began to prepare a soothing cup of tea. He sat nervously on the mat in front of the table, his eyes fixed on the surface as he awaited his next move.
The soft melody of your humming drifted from the kitchen, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He got up from his seat on the mat, his movements slow and deliberate, and made his way into the kitchen, where he found you busy preparing tea.
"You need any help with that?" he asked, standing in the doorway, his tall frame looming over you as you stood at the counter, his eyes meeting yours as you looked up.
You flashed him a warm smile, one that seemed to stir something deep within him. To his surprise, his legs felt like jelly, and he felt himself shrinking under the gentle warmth of your gaze. "Don't worry your pretty little head, I'm almost done anyway," you said, trying to play it off as a joke. A silly way to let him know you didnāt require his help. But as you looked up at him, you noticed his face had turned a bright, burning red.
He felt his face grow hotter by the second, his mind clouding over with a strange, fuzzy sensation. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he felt so helpless. He had no idea why he was suddenly so overwhelmed, but the feeling was suffocating him.
āOh-hajime, Iām sorry, I didnāt mean to upset you.āyou said, concern etched on your face. You thought he was upset, maybe he had an insecurity you didnāt know about. But as you set the pot down and approached him, he surprised you by wrapping his arms around you.
The hug was sudden, and it caught you off guard. "You don't know what you're doing to me," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. The words were meant to be strong and confident, but they emerged as a soft, anguished whisper.
Your hands instinctively settled onto his hips, and you paused for a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking. "You're right, I don't think I do," you said, a hint of curiosity in your tone. "Do you want to show me?" The words were barely out of your mouth when he began to whimper in your ear, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Please, can we go somewhere... more... more..." he trailed off, his words dissolving into a vulnerable silence. You could sense his raw emotion, and it seemed like he was searching for a way to express himself.
āMy bedroom is right down here, sweetie,ā you guided him towards your bedroom, leading him by the hand down the hallway. He clung to your hand nervously, his eyes fixed on the door ahead.
"Can I ask what's going on?" you asked, settling in beside him on the bed as he shifted his weight onto your lap. His larger frame was now enveloping you, his larger body practically in your lap.
"I-I don't know," he stammered, his voice trembling as he struggled to articulate his emotions. "It's just your voice is so... warm, and it makes my head spin," he admitted, his words faltering as he relived the intensity of the moment.
You chuckled softly, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sounds like you like being spoiled," you teased, leaning in closer to him. As you did, his nose was met with the sweet scent of your perfume, and his gaze was drawn to the plump, inviting curves of your lips. He couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest as he wondered what it would be like to taste them.
"Would you like to cuddle for a bit?" you asked, he nodded without hesitation and he instinctively nestled into the curve of your neck, his body sprawling across yours. Your head sank into the soft pillows as he settled in, his hands awkwardly adjusting the blanket.
āYou comfy?ā your voice was muffled by his hair, but he felt the gentle touch of your fingers tracing the contours of his back. He shivered in response, his voice barely audible as he murmured a grateful "yes, thank you" into your neck.
Your fingers wandered through the silky strands of his hair, tantalizingly teasing them with a gentle pull every now and then, just to coax out a plaintive whimper from his lips.
Before you knew it, you became aware of a subtle, yet unmistakable, presence against your leg. It was warm, hard, and throbbing with an unmistakable rhythm. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized that Hajime was now subtly moving his hips against your thigh, his body seemingly trying to find its own rhythm.
āHajime?" you whispered, easing yourself up slightly on the pillow. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you were struck by the vivid flush spreading across his cheeks and the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Are you turned on right now?" you asked, your voice low and husky, as your hand wandered down to his hips, grazing the sensitive skin. Hajime's eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilating as he struggled to process the sudden intimacy. He couldn't meet your gaze, his face flushing with embarrassment as he stuttered out an apology.
"Y-you're just so... so pretty," he stammered, his words faltering as he attempted to put distance between you. He edged away, his body language screaming discomfort and embarrassment, as he tried to regain his composure.
You couldn't help but coo as you took in his flustered state. āLet me take care of you.ā You purred gently, making him melt.
With a gentle yet firm grip, you guided him closer, until he was seated between your thighs, his back pressed against your chest.
āRelaxā you commanded at his tense frame.
āRight-sorry.ā He nodded, doing his best to stop his thighs from flexing when you touched him.
Your fingers danced across his lower abdomen, their slow and deliberate movements sending shivers of anticipation down his spine. As your palms brushed against his skin, his hips instinctively lifted, his body responding to the subtle touch with a primal urge.
"So sensitive," you whispered huskily into his ear, your hot breath sending a thrill through his body. Your fingers drifted down, delicately tracing the outline of his cock still confined by his pants, and he felt his pulse quicken in response.
ā'm sorry," he whispered, his voice laced with desperation, as he reached out to grasp your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin as if trying to anchor himself against the impending storm.
"Don't be pretty boy, it's adorable, you're adorable." The words were a gentle taunt, making him let out a pitiful whine. You took advantage of his vulnerability, reaching out to gently grasp his chin and turn his face towards you. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of pleading and shame, as he struggled to process the softness of your words.
His eyes welled up with tears as he gazed at you, his breathing quickening as a sudden gasp escaped his lips. Your hand, like a gentle thief, slid around his waistband, pulling down the fabric that had been hiding his most intimate secrets from your gaze. The soft fabric slid down, revealing the red puffy cock to you. A lewd slapping sound was heard as his member sprang forth landing on his abdomen, vulnerable and exposed.
He pinched his eyes shut, his eyelids trembling as he desperately tried to block out the reality of the situation. He couldn't believe you were asking him to make eye contact with you as you performed that intimate and revealing act.
He became suddenly aware of a refreshing sensation trickling down his length. He looked to see you expertly applying a lubricant from a bottle, its smooth glide easing onto his twitching shaft. You whispered softly, "This will help," and he nodded in assent, his voice barely above a whisper as he murmured, "It's cold."
You softly cooed, taking a moment to slowly spread the lubricant along his red, swollen cock. His head arched back in a sensual moan as your fingers delicately brushed against his tip, sending shivers through his body.
"I-I think I'm going to come." he slurred, his hooded eyes straining against the pressure of your closed palm. However, the warmth was short-lived as you suddenly pulled your hand away from him, leaving him feeling momentarily deprived and frustrated.
Instead, he was left gasping for air, his cock angrily twitching in frustration. "I can't have you coming too soon," you said, your tone matter-of-fact. "Where's the fun in that?" Your hand returned to his cock, and he sat there, unable to muster a response, his head nodding dumbly in agreement.
You resumed your gentle strokes, and he let out a low groan as he buried his face into your neck. As your hand moved faster, his voice rose to a higher pitch, his pleasure growing more intense. His thighs began to tremble beneath your touch, and despite his efforts to resist, they involuntarily closed in on themselves, betraying his mounting arousal.
You let out a soft sigh, pausing your movements to gently coax his thighs apart once more. "Keep this up and I'll have to invest in a spreader bar," you teased, shaking your head in amusement. With a gentle smile, you resumed your task, your hand moving once more.
āIām sorry, donāt mean too.ā he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of embarrassment. But the truth was, he secretly preferred the brief interruptions when you had to pause to re-spread his legs. The momentary respite gave him a chance to catch his breath and regain control. And if he wasn't careful, he risked losing himself entirely, on the cusp of a climax that threatened to overwhelm him.
His abs rippled and flexed as he writhed in your grasp, his body responding to your thumb teasing his tip that seemed to be endlessly leaking with pre cum. The sensation was too much to bear, and he let out a horse cry, his body instinctively jerking and clutching at your wrist as if seeking release from the mounting pleasure.
āfuck-fuckā¦ fUCk. I canāt keep d-doing th-this.ā he cursed under his breath. Your own body responded to his reactions, your stomach fluttering with anticipation as you watched him. The way his chest heaved with ragged breaths and the sounds he made sent shivers down your spine, leaving you aching with desire.
"I'm here to help you relax baby. You can come." you whispered softly, your voice gentle and reassuring. Your hands moved in a smooth, steady rhythm, as if guided by an unseen force. Your fingers danced across his skin, exploring every contour and curve. You couldn't resist the urge to experiment, and your fingertips grazed against the sensitive skin of his nipple, still hidden beneath his sweaty shirt.
As he let go, a torrent of white liquid burst forth from his head, splattering his shirt and leaving a visible mark. The cry that escaped his lips was a raw, high-pitched sound, filled with a mix of relief and release. The pent-up emotion seemed to pour out of him, like a dam breaking, as hot tears burned down his cheeks.
āSuch a good boy, I didnāt think you would listen so well.ā you praised, slowing your strokes. All he could manage was to slur his thanks and catch his breath wearily. It was endearing how overwhelmed he was from a mere handjob. You were going to enjoy having to taking care of him from now on.
#sub haikyuu#dom reader#haikyuu#dom!reader#haikyu x reader#sub character#sub!character#haikyu x you#iwazumi hajime#iwazumi x reader#iwaizumi hajime#iwa chan#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyu imagines#haikyuu iwaizumi#haikyuu comfort#haikyuu!!#hq iwaizumi#hq x y/n#hq x you#hq x gender neutral reader
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HOW YOU MET THE SLASHERS PT. 2
Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm currently moving some of my old fanfiction onto here. These one-shots/drabbles are old (some are far older than others) so some of the writing is very short and in my opinion, not as great as some of my more recent stuff. But I have a soft spot for all of this since I know my younger self was working hard lol. So hereās a mini collection of my old āHow You Metā series.
Characters: Brahms Heelshire, Otis Driftwood, Tiffany Valentine, Jack Torrance, Pavi Largo, Art the Clown, Billy Lenz, Luigi Largo, Will Graham
Warning/tags: Canon typical violence mentioned, occasional use of (Y/N) (I tried to get rid of some but there's still a few), not beta read
Word count: 6.1k
Brahms Heelshire:
You were hired by the Heelshires to take care of their son. When you arrived at the home you were shocked to find a doll instead of an actual person. You decided to shake off the strangeness of the situation.
You followed every rule. You were getting paid so being in a spooky situation wasn't going to deter you away from a good paycheck.
After a couple of weeks, things started to get more strange. A couple of your t-shirts had gone missing, leftover food disappeared, and you could have sworn you heard footsteps walking on the creaky wooden floor at night.
One night you heard a knock. It was faint but it didn't go unnoticed. You got out of bed and put your ear up to the wall. You could hear shuffling.
"Someone's in the house," you thought to yourself.
You made your way to the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The door to Brahms's room was closed. You could've sworn you left it open.
Stepping closer to the door, you gently placed your hand on the nob. You turned it quickly, opening the door. And there he was.
A grown man sat on the end of Brahms's bed. He had a mess of black hair on top of his head and his face was covered by what appeared to be a porcelain mask. You squinted your eyes. The mask resembled the face of the doll that you had grown fond of taking care of. No, it can't be.
You stepped back in shock. Fear and confusion clouded your mind. You wanted to run but your legs were frozen.
"Please don't be scared," the man pleaded.
The voice was gentle and soft. Your mouth fell agape.
"Brahms?" you questioned, stuttering his name.
The man nodded his head.
"So...you are alive."
Otis Driftwood:
You lived down the street from the Firefly family for years so you've known Otis early on. As you got older you started to stay over at their house. Baby Firefly was your best friend and she could tell that you had a crush on her brother.
"You know he likes you too," Baby said as you sat behind her, braiding her curly hair.
"I highly doubt that," you mumbled.
Every time you came over, Otis would shut himself in his room. He never seemed to even be remotely interested in you.
You finished Baby's braid and she turned around to face you.
"Don't believe me? Go talk to him," Baby insisted.
"Go talk to him? About what? We've barely ever spoken to each other," you said.
She took you by the hand without saying anything, dragging you upstairs. The two of you busted through Otis' door uninvited. He sat there watching an episode of The Munsters.
"What the fuck are you two doing in here?" he said aggravated.
You turned to leave but Baby caught you by the arm, pulling you back.
"We want to watch TV since thereās not one downstairs," Baby said, flopping down on Otis' bed.
You stood there, looking down at your feet.
"Gonna stand there all day or are you gonna sit?" Otis asked, peering up at you.
You hesitantly sat down on the bed by Baby.
"I'm going to go get something to drink," Baby said, hopping back up from the bed.
Before you could insist on going with her, she was gone, leaving you seated by Otis.
"She's not coming back," Otis mumbled.
"Oh, then I probably should go after her," you said.
"Nope. You're watching TV with me," Otis said.
It sounded like an offer, not just a statement.
You nodded your head and sat watching TV with Otis for the rest of the night.
Tiffany Valentine:
You sat down in one of the last couple of seats in the movie theater. It was late at night, 11:45 to be exact. Every year on Halloween night you found yourself sitting in this theater, patiently waiting to watch the annual midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Most years, you would have had someone come with you. Your friends usually would tag along. But this year you were alone. You didn't exactly mind. The energy of the other Rocky Horror fans made up for it.
You had a small bucket of popcorn sitting in your lap, along with a grab bag full of props. The theater would pass them out since audience participation was always encouraged at the showings. You took a sip from your drink and sat it back down in the cup holder on the seat. Glancing around, you took note of how full the theater was. Almost every seat was filled, besides a few seats here and there. One of those empty seats was right beside you.
"Hi, may I sit there?" a voice asked beside you.
Looking up, you saw a woman with wavy blonde hair. She wore a black leather jacket with a bustier underneath, along with tight black pants.
"Oh, of course," you said.
She sat down beside you.
"Thank you," she said with a smile.
"You're welcome."
"If I would've known the theater was going to be packed I would have left home sooner," she said.
"I got here just in time as well," you said with a chuckle.
"I'm Tiffany, by the way."
She reached out her hand and you shook it. You told her your name and smiled.
After the movie had ended you found yourself walking out of the theater with Tiffany, talking about movies as the two of you made your way to your respective vehicles.
āIt was good talking to you,ā she said, slipping a small piece of paper in your hand.
You looked down at the tiny note, which had her phone number scribbled on it.
āGive me a call sometime,ā she said with a wink.
You watched the blonde saunter away to her car before hastily adding her number to the contacts in your phone.
Jack Torrance:
"Is this seat taken?"
You turned to see a tall man who looked rather scruffy. His eyes were dark and there was some red puffiness around his eyelids.
"Nope," you said, offering him the seat.
The bar was rather empty. Only a few stragglers were inside, including you. You needed a late-night drink. Something to clear your mind. Or fog it up. You just needed to forget.
The man beside you ordered a Scotch and didn't hesitate to drink it down quickly.
"What brings you here?" he asked.
He then ordered another drink. This time he asked the bartender to just leave the bottle. Either he was going through a tough time or he was just an alcoholic.
"I had a bad day. Needed a drink," you said, "What about you?"
The man was silent for a bit as if he was struggling to answer.
"Divorce," he stated simply.
His voice was quieter than before. It seemed as if the divorce was rather fresh. His face dropped a bit and he looked as if he wanted to throw his glass across the bar.
Hesitantly, you patted him on the shoulder. It was a kind gesture. You didn't need to know the details. You could tell that this man was hurting. His outward expression was one of anger, but somewhere deep down you could tell that he was upset.
"I'm sorry," you said quietly.
"Don't be. It was a long time coming," he said.
A long time coming. You could say the same thing about your current situation.
You had just cut ties with your ex. A part of you was relieved. The other part of you was enraged that you hadn't ended things sooner. But now it was time to move on to new and better things. And why not start by making a new friend? You took a sip of your drink and then turned in your seat towards the man.
"I'm (Y/N), by the way," you said, sticking out your hand.
"I'm Jack," he said, shaking your hand.
Pavi Largo:
You had known Pavi for a little over a year. You had worked with Amber Sweet before, making her dresses and personalized latex corsets, and she had introduced you to him.
After that, Pavi soon fell in love with your talent and hired you as the entire Largo family's official personal stylist. The last one had to take a personal leave after a violent encounter with Pavi's brother, Luigi. You on the other hand found your job to be much safer than anticipated. You knew beforehand that taking a job working for any member of the Largo family would be a risk. But after a few months passed you started to have fun.
"My sister wants you to make this," Pavi said, entering your workshop.
He opened up a magazine and sat it on your desk, revealing a model in a latex mini dress. You walked over from your workstation and went over to the desk, picking up the magazine.
"She's really getting obsessed with latex and vinyl, isn't she?" you mumbled, taking a closer look at the picture.
For the past two months, almost everything Amber had asked you to make was made from shiny black vinyl, PVC, and leather.
"Almost as obsessed as she is with going under the knife," Pavi laughed.
You glanced up at Pavi, taking a good look at the woman's face he wore as a mask. You squinted your eyes as you noticed the skin was starting to look rather splotchy.
"Pavi, you need a new mask," you said.
"No, I don't," he said, sitting down in a chair in front of your desk.
"I think you do," you insisted.
He simply shrugged and put his legs up, resting his feet on your desk. You sighed as you watched him do so.
"You can go now."
"And why would I do that? It's much more fun in here watching you work," Pavi said.
Pavi had a habit of doing this. He'd come in with a minor request and then find an excuse to stay. It didn't bother you all that much but today was a busy day. You were making two outfits for Amber, a suit for Luigi, and a dress for some guest who would be arriving at Gene-Co for an event.
You didn't have the time to entertain him.
"I have to work, Pavi," you said sternly.
"Take a break. Talk to me," he said, pouting his faux face.
"I don't have time."
"Alright...alright. But may I make another request?"
You rolled your eyes. There was already so much work to be done in such little time.
"Yes," you said.
He stood up and walked over to you. His hand reached up and caressed your face, grazing over your skin.
"Come with me tonight and help me find a new face," he said.
It wasn't much of a request. It was much more of a statement. A demand.
You nodded your head in agreement.
"Consider it a date," he said with a smile.
Art the Clown:
It was the middle of the night on Halloween. You stumbled on your feet as you made your way down the sidewalk. The air was proceeding to get colder as time passed.
You weren't sure what time it was. Your cell phone had died hours ago at the Halloween party you had left.
You couldn't drive home. You were far too intoxicated to do that. Plus, you didn't have a car of your own. Your friend had picked you up before the party. When you went to leave the party there was no sign of her or the car. Figuring that your friend had ditched you for a late-night hookup, you decided to tread back to your house.
Your outfit wasn't providing much warmth either. The clown costume you had picked for the Halloween costume was cute but it was made out of thin fabric. Cursing to yourself, you looked around.
Across the street from you was a pizza restaurant. The open sign still glowed and the lights were on inside.
"I could go for some food," you thought to yourself.
You walked across the street and entered the restaurant. A feeling of warmth cascaded over you as you stepped in.ĀĀĀ
"Welcome! Great costume! What can I get you?" a man greeted you from behind the counter.
He was heavier set with tan skin and dark hair that was slicked back with styling gel.
You looked over the multiple options of pizza behind the glass of the counter. You ordered a slice of your favorite pizza and sat down at a booth.
As you ate, you heard the bell on the door chime. Glancing up, you noticed a tall figure dressed in a white and black clown suit with an alternating pattern. His face was painted white, and his face was covered in what you assumed to be prosthetics. In his hand, he carried a black bag.
For just a second, you forgot it was Halloween, and a chill ran up your spine. The feeling disappeared quickly as you assumed he was in a similar situation as you. Either going to or coming from a Halloween party.
The stranger sat down at the booth closest to the door without ordering anything.
"May I help you?" the man at the counter asked the clown.
There was no answer; the clown just looked away.
You decided to ignore it and continued to eat your pizza. It was Halloween after all. All types of people were bound to be lurking around.
As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a strange sensation. Goosebumps were forming on your neck. You glanced over to the clown. He was staring at you. Almp began to form in your throat and a part of you couldn't help but stare back. You couldn't tell if you were scared or just annoyed that someone was staring at you while you ate.
You decide to wave at him. A small gesture to break the ice. He smiled back at you.
You turned back to your food and finished your pizza rather quickly. The clown's smile wasn't necessarily a comforting one. You went to get up from your booth and couldn't. A small gasp left your mouth as you looked up. The clown stood in front of you, peering down as he blocked you from exiting. You hadn't even noticed him get up or walk over.
He put up his finger, gesturing for you to hold on. With a few dramatized miming motions, he reached into his bag and slowly pulled out a flower. He held up a singular rose, and you hesitantly took it.
"Umā¦thank you," you said quietly, smiling a little.
He tipped his hat and walked away, leaving the shop. It wouldn't be the last time you saw the mysterious clown.
Luigi Largo:
The repossession of organs was a regular occurrence in the city. By the year 2052, everyone's body seemed to begin to fail. Organ transplants and regular cosmetic surgery became the norm. Hell, even you had had a few organ transplants yourself to save yourself from an early death.
And with the new way of life, a new set of rules had to be made. Organs were now a rental property. If you didn't pay, they could be repossessed. You understood the rule, and you never missed a payment. Even when you didn't have the money, you still found a way to have the cash by the time payment was due.
You were good at keeping your payments, but you couldn't say the same about other people. When Gene-Co came knocking on your door months ago, you didn't know what to expect. It's not every day that Rotti Largo comes down to talk to civilians. You had seen him and his children on TV. His daughter was around your age. They lived a glamorous life, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that they were a mess.
Rotti offered you a job that day. He wanted to hire you as an assassin. There were fuzzy details about the current Repo-Man betraying his trust. He mentioned that it was good money and an easy way for you to pay off your organ payments. He even said that the company would give you grace periods to pay. Blah. Blah. Blah. Long story short, he wanted you to be his new "Repo-man".
At the time you weren't fond of the idea. Not many people lived through repossession. It essentially would kill a person each time. Also, really? The company that was paying you would just be getting the money back from you anyway. It didn't make much sense.
But that was months ago.
The past version of you would be absolutely disgusted with the present version of you.
Oh well.
Currently, you had your hand shoved into a man's chest. Normally you would have brought someone like this back to your home. It was much easier to cut the entire chest open to retrieve a heart. But you didn't have time for that right now. You were on the clock.
You had tracked this guy down as quickly as possible once you had realized you were late for drop-off. You had quickly stunned him, causing him to pass out.
And now he would never wake up because you were elbow-deep in his chest. You carefully pulled out the man's heart. You didn't care too much about properly cutting arteries. If Gene-Co didn't care about the condition of the heart then why should you? They just wanted to be able to cross a name off their list.
You placed the heart in a bag and then in your small ice cooler. Looking down at the guy you couldn't help but feel sorry. If only he had kept up with his payments. You started making your way down the streets.
You had on a respirator and tinted goggles. Not only did it help with keeping your identity sealed but it also helped protect you from the ungodly amount of pollution. The air was so thick with smog that it always looked like as if there was a haze of smoke in the air. You hadn't seen the stars in years. Just the cloudy light from the moon.
You remember your mom telling you what it was like when she was your age. She had been born in the early 2000s. She turned 18 around 2020. Your mom had grown up in a rural area, full of green fields and forests full of trees. You could tell that it made her sad.
None of that existed anymore.
Her home had been replaced with parking lots and skyscrapers. By the time she had you, she was 30, and there wasn't much grass left in America. Not many trees either. Most plants were grown in greenhouses now. They wouldn't survive the outside conditions. Now you were in your twenties, and you wished your mom had gotten pregnant sooner. You wished you hadn't had to grow up in a time where Earth had been wiped of nature and replaced with chaos.
As you walked down the sidewalk, you could see the glowing Gene-Co sign from down the street, looming over the city. It felt as if a giant eye was watching over you.
Although you worked for them, you didn't know much about the Largo family. You just knew what you saw on TV and the news. And based on what you heard, the family was nothing short of dysfunctional. You had never met any of them other than the patriarch, Rotti Largo. Your business was usually with Genterns and receptionists, not the Largo family.
You entered Gene-Co, pushing past the big glass doors. The building was an odd combination of a hospital and a business. On some floors, there would be operating rooms and Genterns. On other floors, offices and meeting rooms. You reached the front desk and looked at the blonde Gentern behind it.
God, you hated their uniforms.
The red visors and scrubs that looked like a mini dress bothered you for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that you always got a face full of their rear ends that irked you.
"Delivery," you said behind your mask.
She picked up her desk phone and pressed a couple of buttons.
"The repossession delivery is here," she said to the person on the other end of the line. She nodded her head and hung up the phone.
"You know where to go. They'll buzz you in," she said.
You walked away from the desk and made your way down the hall, entering a back room. It looked like a loading dock but was used for organ storage. And by the looks of it, very poor organ storage. The room wasn't even cold. No wonder people's organs were still useless after surgery.
As you walked past the shelves of unkept organs, you heard a group of voices arguing.
"What the hell?" you thought to yourself.
You knew it couldn't be Genterns arguing. These were two masculine voices.
You turned the corner of shelves and saw two men in suits arguing as Genterns looked on.
"You think you could run this company? Are you mad?"
"The only mad person here is you! God, look at you! You think that fake face looks good on you?"
You then realized who the men were. You recognized them from the news. The Largo brothers.
One had medium-length black hair and wore what appeared to be the face of a woman. The other man's shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a chest full of scars. In his hand was a knife. It took you a second to remember their names.
Pavi and Luigi.
"Ahem," you coughed.
Everyone turned to look at you as if you weren't supposed to be there.
"Ah, is this our new Repo-man," Pavi said.
"I've been working for this company for months. I'm not new. Here," you said, handing the heart-filled cooler to the closest Gentern.
"You're new to us," Luigi said, stepping closer as he buttoned up his shirt.
He circled around before stopping right in front of you.
"What's this for?" he said, tapping his knife on your respirator.
"To filter out pollution," you said. Honestly, what type of question was that?
"And these?" he asked, poking at your goggles. His fingerprint smudged the lenses, causing you to have to take them off and clean them.
"I wear them so I don't have to make eye contact with people. Thanks a lot for messing them up," you said, frustrated.
"You're welcome," Luigi said.
He walked away from you, going to stand back by his brother.
"Well, goodbye. I'm sure you have more repossessions to do," Pavi said, smiling.
You stuck out your hand, waiting for the Gentern to pay you.
"What do you want now?" Luigi asked.
"This is the part where a Gentern normally pays me," you said, annoyed.
"Oh, I got you covered this time," Luigi said, walking back over to you. He took out a wad of cash, and you could tell it was way more than your usual pay. You expected him to go through it, but he just sat all of the money in your hand.
"Wait, this is too muc-"
"Keep the change," Luigi said, winking at you.
Billy Lenz:
You slumped onto the couch as you listened to music. It was Christmas break, and the rest of the people in your (fraternity/sorority) had gone home to their families. Only you and a couple of the other members had decided to stay for the holidays. You were left alone in the house while the other members left to go to the bar.
The music played at a low volume and echoed throughout the house. You closed your eyes as you listened to it, droning off as you finally began to relax. The past few weeks had been stressful due to finals, but now all the tests were finally over. It was also the first time you had been alone in months. You could feel the weight of the tension leaving your body. It was a great feeling that you hadn't felt in a while. It wasn't often that you could just sit down and relax.
Just as you began to get comfortable, the house phone rang.
"Damn it," you mumbled to yourself.
You got up and walked into the foyer of the house, picking up the phone with a sigh.
"Hello?" you said. Instead of an answer, you were met with fuzzy garbling.
Strange noises came through the phone. Screams and whispers flooded through the phone.
"Hello?" you said, again, getting more frustrated.
"Billy...." a voice said, drawing out the syllables.
"There's no Billy here. You've got the wrong number?"
"What are you doing, Billy?" the voice whispered with a growl.
"You got the wrong number, man. Goodbye," you said, hanging up the phone.
"What the hell was that?" you thought.
You gritted your teeth as you went to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, you began to pour yourself something to drink. As you did so, you heard a creak upstairs. Your head shot up. You were on edge due to the strange phone call, but you decided to brush off the feeling. The (fraternity/sorority) was old and would sometimes creak in the middle of the night. You were sure that was all it was. Your nerves, plus the old house, were just not getting along.
You went back to the living room and turned up the music in an attempt to get back to your relaxed state. Right before you sat down, the phone rang again. You paused for a second, contemplating whether you should answer it.
You took a deep breath and made your way back into the foyer, picking up the phone slowly and bringing it up to your ear.
"Hello?" you said.
This time you could tell your voice was more frustrated. And your frustration got worse as you heard the caller on the other end. Once again, you were met with more grumbles, screams, moans, and whispers.
"Hey, man. I don't know who you are, but stop calling this number!" you said. You slammed the phone back down on the receiver.
Almost on cue, you heard a creak come from upstairs again. This time, you could hear it more clearly. It sounded like the floorboard creaking under the weight of someone's foot.
A shiver ran up your spine as you were suddenly struck with a dreadful feeling of fear.
"Who's there?" you called out. Maybe it was just one of the members of the (fraternity/sorority). Maybe they had come home from the bar while you were in the kitchen.
"Guys, are you home?" you asked. You hadn't moved from the foyer, too scared to even budge. Your eyes were glued to the stairs of the house.
Suddenly the phone rang again, causing you to jump at the sudden noise. You turned away from the stairs and brought your attention back to the phone.
"Look, man. You're really starting to piss me off," you said.
"What are you talking about, (Y/N)?" a familiar voice said on the other side of the line.
It was your mom.
"Jeez, I'm sorry mom. Hi, how are you?" you greeted, taking a sigh of relief.
"I'm fine. I could ask the same about you. Why'd you answer the phone like that?" she asked.
"The house has been getting some weird phone calls, and I'm the only one at home right now. I'm just a little scared is all," you explained.
"Have you called the police to see if they can track the number?"
"No, I don't think it's that serious," you answered.
"Well, please be safe. I was just calling to check up on you and tell you we miss you," she said.
"I miss you too. I'll see you guys once spring break rolls around," you said.
"Okay. And (Y/N)...." Your mom trailed off a bit.
"Yeah?"
"Please be safe," she said.
"I will. Bye, Mom. I love you."
You hung up the phone putting it back on the receiver. You turned back to the stares and let out a gasp. Your body was tackled to the ground and suddenly you were struggling to breathe. You looked up and saw a man with brown hair and a dark green sweater.
His hands were around your throat and your breath was becoming more and more restricted. You clawed at his hands and kicked your legs.
After missing a couple of times, your knee hit the man in the groin, causing him to loosen his grip. You then raised your legs, kicking him back with both of your feet. The man fell back, giving you enough time to get back on your feet. You quickly grabbed the heaviest thing around you which just so happened to be a weighted candlestick sitting on the foyer table.
The man stumbled back to his feet. You gripped the candlestick, just waiting for an excuse to use it.
"Who are you?" you asked.
He smirked, and his eyes glanced over at the house phone on the foyer table.
The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning. The mysterious caller was in the house standing right in front of you.
"Man, you got a lot of explaining to do."
Will Graham:
You tapped your fingers on the desk while you waited for Jack Crawford. The door to his office had been open, so you were sure he would return soon. On his desk sat a stack of folders and papers.
If you weren't in a professional setting, you might have not resisted the urge to snoop. But alas, this was your work setting, and you had a great level of respect for Jack. Your eyes pried away from the papers and looked elsewhere around the empty office.
Over the past month, you had been hospital-bound after a nearly fatal encounter with an active shooter. You were just a criminal investigator. And all though you had a firearm on you constantly, most of the time you didn't need it. Crime suspects rarely came back to the scene of the crime. But this one did, and he had pulled out his own gun before you had time to react.
You were shot four times and, you were lucky to be alive. After a grueling recovery phase, you thought it was about time you got back to work.
"I expected you to be home, (Y/N)," a voice said from behind you.
You turned around in your seat. Jack stood at the doorway of his office. There was a small smile on his face. You could tell he was happy to see you.
"I got tired resting in bed. I need some excitement, I guess," you said.
He walked into the office and sat down at his desk.
"Are you sure you're up for it? Your leave technically hasn't ended yet. You still have time to recover," he said.
You shook your head.
"I'm done with recovery. I might need some therapy, but other than that, I'm good," you said with a laugh.
"I can recommend you a good therapist," he said. He was partially joking, but he seemed sincere.
"I might have to take you up on that offer," you said, "So what have I missed? Got anything for me, boss?"
Jack's hand made its way to one of the folders on his desk. He slid it across to you.
The front tab was labeled 'Minnesota Shrike/Chesapeake Ripper'. You opened the folder up and started reading.
"We've been called out to Minnesota to investigate a series of murders. All of the victims so far are all teenage girls. As you can see most of them look rather similar," Jack began to explain.
You flipped through the contents of the folder, reading about each victim and examining their photos, mainly the ones that were taken post-mortem.
You wiggled out a picture from underneath a paperclip that had been taken at one of the crime scenes. A girl was sprawled out in the sun in what appeared to be a grassy field. She was nude. Her skin was very pale and had begun to turn greyish-blue. Right underneath her breasts were two apparent puncture wounds. And what was coming out of those wounds made you squint to make sure you weren't seeing things.
She had been impaled with deer antlers.
"What does this have to do with the Chesapeake Ripper?" you asked.
"There may be a possible connection. We have to search every lead," Jack said.
You nodded and continued to look through the folder.
"And what do you want me to do?" you asked.
"One, get ready to go to Minnesota. We just got the call about an hour ago that there's been another murder," Jack said.
"Really? Man, whoever this guy is he's resilient," you said.
"And two, do me a favor and take these down to Will Graham at the Academy."
Jack took the stack of papers and folders and sat them all down in front of you. You closed the folder you were looking at and put it on top.
"Who's Will Graham?" you questioned.
"Your new investigation partner," Jack said.
"Well, I guess I should meet him sooner than later," you said.
"I agree. I'll see you later, (L/N)," Jack said.
You got up from your seat and took the paperwork into your hands. You exited the office and made your way out of the FBI Crime Lab.
Instead of taking your car, you decided to walk to the academy. It was only a couple of minutes away, so the walk would be rather short.
The leaves on the trees had almost all turned dark shades of orange and yellow. Leaves fell on the sidewalk as you walked down the sidewalk. The changing color made you realize just exactly how much time had passed since the shooting. You remembered how the air had felt that day. It wasn't necessarily hot but it was warm. Warm enough to wear all you wanted to wear was a t-shirt and jeans. But now the air was crisp and cool. In a couple of weeks, the temperature would be in the freezing temperatures. Time had changed so quickly.
You approached the front doors of the FBI Academy and entered. You weren't sure where to go. You figured Will was a teacher but Jack hadn't mentioned what he would be teaching. Now that you thought of it, you had no idea what the man would even look like.
You walked down the hallways, peeking into the open doors. You weren't really sure where to even look. You heard faint talking and footsteps down another hall and decided to follow the sounds.
As you turned the corner you saw what you knew to be students based on their uniforms.
"Excuse me, guys. Do you know where I can find Will Graham?" you asked as you approached them.
"Oh, yeah. We just got out of his class. Down this hall, third door on the right," one of the girls said, pointing down the hall.
"Thank you so much," you said.
You walked down the quiet hallway and turned at the open lecture hall. It was a smaller class with a large projector. You saw who you assumed was Will Graham facing towards the projector, looking up and examining it.
You looked up and paused. It was the same picture from earlier. The girl was impaled by deer antlers.
"In all of my years as an agent, I've never seen anything quite like that," you said aloud.
The man jumped a bit at the sudden sound of your voice and turned around. He had wavy brown hair that cascaded around his head. His face dawned a good bit of short whiskers and he wore dark glasses that rested on his nose.
"Neither have I," he said, "May I help you?"
"Will Graham?" you questioned.
"Yes, and you are?"
"(Y/N) (L/N), Jack Crawford sent me," you said. You walked over to him and offered him a handshake, which he took without hesitation.
"Jack sent you. So you're not a student?" he asked.
"No, I'm an agent. I've been out on medical leave, but I just got back," you explained.
You handed him the pack of paperwork. He took it in his hands and sat it down.
"Welcome back," he said.
"Thank you."
"So what are your thoughts on...all of this?" Will questioned, gesturing up to the projector.
"I'm not sure yet. I guess I'll come up with a better opinion in a couple of hours. I'm coming with you and Jack to Minnesota," you said.
"Oh, you're going with us?" Will said.
"Mhm, it's time for me to get back out there in the field. I'm glad I won't have to do it alone. According to Jack, it sounds like we're partners now," you said.
"I guess so," he said with a small smile.
#brahms heelsire x reader#otis driftwood x reader#tiffany valentine x reader#jack torrance x reader#Pavi largo x reader#art the clown x reader#Billy Lenz x reader#Luigi largo x reader#will graham x reader#slashers#horror movie slashers#fanfiction#macabrebatzās fanfiction#slashers x reader#reader insert#art the clown#otis driftwood#brahms x you#brahms heelshire#tiffany valentine#jack torrance#pavi largo#Luigi largo#billy lenz x y/n#Billy Lenz#will graham#will graham x you#slasher x reader#slasher fandom#slasher imagines
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TWHHA challenge Summerā24
āThis Would Have Happened Anywayā Challenge for Summer ā24
Katniss says it at the end of Mockingjay:
āBut his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him, "Real.ā
So letās explore āWhat ifsā and send your fics. The theme this time is DISTRICTS APART š„ and it can be Pre-Games or Post-Mockingjayā¦ but it could also be pre or port catching fire
Pairing: Everlark
Type: Fan Fiction or Fan Art.
Words: Over 1000 words (drabbles, one shots or short multi chapter are welcome, we would like to have submission completed although it isnāt mandatory)
theme this time is DISTRICTS APART
Deadline:
1. You can confirm your to participation until June 23rd (in Tumblr, answering this post) and you will be granted access to the collection to submit your work.
2. You can submit your fics up to July 11th midnight (CET time!)
3. Collection will be live July 13th 2024 as anonymous
4. Writers will be revealed July 20th
@thgcommentfeast
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JJK boys with a gyaru GF
i wanted to write for all these bois but didn't have a good enough concept let's do what i do best!! Short drabbles!!...š
I did this on my main blog too and it did really well so here i amš„°
Characters featured: Nanami, Choso, Megumi, Gojo
Nanami Kento
"Hahahaha! Kento, you look sooo cute!" You clapped your hands, satisfied with your work so far.
After much convincing, Kento allowed you to give him a gyaru makeover. It was almost artistic how much the bright, colorful accessories contrasted his strong body and calm personality.
He sighed. He can't believe he's actually letting you do this. Your puppy eyes are quite a dangerous weapon, he fears.
When you move away for a bit, he asks "Are you done?"
"Done?! We haven't even gotten to the makeup yet!! Or the nails!!" Your response shocked him. You really were going all out here, weren't you.
"Which, speaking of nails, let's do a leopard pattern like your tie!! Have I mentioned how that tie is peak gyaru yet?" Your mention of the tie evolved from there and he listened to you ramble on about the latest trends in gyaru fashion.
He liked the moments where you rambled on about things you enjoy. He loves the sound of your voice, especially when you're excited about the thing you're talking about.
You press a quick kiss to his nose all of a sudden, making him jump slightly in surprise.
"Hehehe, sorry. Your smile was just so cute and I couldn't resist." He was... smiling at you?
God, you're gonna be the death of him.
Choso Kamo
He's always had his eyes on you. To be fair, you were a little difficult to miss with all your bright acessories and clothes. And with a bright smile to match, too.
"Choso!!~" you ran up to him, hugging him tight. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around you, causing you to smile at him.
He would do anything for you, and he makes that clear as day. He holds your shopping bags, he helps you pick out nail designs and plugs in the curling iron for you while you're still doing your makeup.
Of course, he would do a lot more than that but you never let him.
"Hello." He greeted you simply, wondering where you'll take him today.
"Soooo, there's this new clothes collection I've been eyeing for a while..." you let go of him, much to his dismay.
"Do you need money?" He asked.
"What? No, I've been saving up! And I want you to come with me to pick out the best date outfits, and the best girls night outfits, the best party outfits, you get the point." You listed all the necessities off, straightening one of your fingers each time.
"Ah, I just went and called you over without explaining anything beforehand. You're not busy, are you?" Your face suddenly shifted to worry, something he hated seeing.
"No, I'm not."
Truth be told, he was supposed to go to a meeting right about now, but you're much more important. The peck you pressed to his lips was more than worth it.
Fushiguro Megumi
"Hehehe, look here Megumi~" you smiled, turning your brightly accesorised phone towards him.
Instead of posing with you like you wanted, Megumi walked out of your camera's view without a word.
"Oh come on, babe... You never let me take pictures of you..." you whined, putting down your phone and pouting.
"I don't like my face being on social media." He crossed his arms, looking as straight faced as ever.
"Who said I was gonna post it on social media? I just wanted to show you off to my girlies... They don't believe that I actually have a boyfriend..." you looked down.
"...Fine." your head shot back up, meeting his eyes. He isn't a jokester, and he never teases you on purpose either, so this can only mean...
"Yayy! I love you, babes!!" You practically jumped him, attacking him with a flurry of kisses to his face. He acted annoyed and pushed you off, but you have a feeling he liked it deep inside.
"Hehehe, now your face is covered in kiss marks!" You smiled playfully at him.
Before he got a chance to wipe it off, you snapped a quick selfie that you're going to show off to your friends so hard later.
They can't claim he's just a friend you payed to take a photo with if he has your lipstick all over him, can they?
Gojo Satoru
"Kyaaah!" All your friends squealed at the sight of your boyfriend. Satoru smirked slightly, sitting down next to you and kissing your forehead.
"You weren't lying when you said he was super hot!" One of them said. "Ahhh, he really is super tall!" Another added, looking him up and down. You nodded excitedly in response, proud smile on your face.
Satoru didn't really want to meet your friends. He had nothing against them, but a date with you and only you was way better. Atleast in his humble opinion.
"You are SO. LUCKY." Your third friend giggled.
Satoru doesn't even pay attention to your friends fangirling over him, taking your freshly manicured hand into his and appreciating your nails. Blue and sparkly. Undoubtedly to match his eyes.
He raised your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles one by one, keeping eye contact with you the entire time and listening to your friends lose it in the background.
"Satoru...?!" You tried your best to not let your blush show. Suddenly, he pulled you close by your hips, whispering into your ear.
"Hey, here's a bright idea. Let's ditch your friends. After all, I'm in the mood for something sweet." You felt a shiver run through you at his words.
"Hey-Satoru!" You pulled on his ear, making him pout and promise not to do it again, but you have a feeling he won't stop trying.
#ĖĖĖ ā
ā” ćWolfieās other worksć ā” ā
ĖĖĖ#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x you#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami kento x reader#choso x reader#choso x you#choso kamo x reader#choso jjk#megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi x you#gojo x you#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo#fem reader
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Hey did you know one of my favorite people was born today?! It's @ramblingoak's birthday and it feels very fitting to me that she gets the first mixtape: volume two (you can find vol. 1 here)! As per usual, I have compiled a list of some of my favorite fics to celebrate Oak Day.
Where to even begin with Oakie? Well you'd be hard-pressed to find a more supportive person in this entire fandom. She's an incredible friend who always ALWAYS has a kind word to add in the tags and/or a sexy photo of papa to brighten your day when you need it most. If that weren't enough, Oak is a truly wonderful writer. I dare you to find a collection of works that feel more cinematic. I reread her writing whenever I need to feel somethingā¢āwhich is to say: often.
All that to say: Oakie I adore you and hope you have a fantastic birthday. Everyone go leave some kudos and comments as a lil gift. Or maybe even a birthday tip!!
recs under the cut.
Clockwork Hearts - Copia x Reader T, 3.7k
The Ghost universe set in a world of machines and magic. This takes place in a new alternate universe series I'm working on, Clockwork Hearts. Eventually there will be a Copia x Reader main story but for now I've been working on small little fics that take place in that world and I'll be adding them here.
Wholesome Headcanons - Primo Thinking About His Brothers - Primo G, 1.3k
Someone on Tumblr asked for any wholesome Papa headcanons I had and I rambled about how Primo felt about his younger brothers. Perhaps a spiritual sequel to Dumbasses.
Naps With Copia - Copia x Reader G, 8.9k
Just a series of drabbles/ficlets featuring you napping with Copia throughout the abbey.
The Repugnant - Mary Goore x Reader E, 4.6k
Your father always warned you that you were too curious for your own good. After hearing rumors of the pirate ship The Repugnant in the area you snuck out of your father's villa to try and get a peek at the dreaded pirate and his crew of monsters. But what happens when Captain Mary Goore gets a peek of you first?
Tales From Lucifer's Hollow - everybody x everybody E, 15.6k
Short snippets of what life is like for the ghouls and humans that live in the picturesque (and Satanic!) town of Lucifer's Hollow. This is an alternate universe series I'm working on that will feature lots of drabbles and one-shots here as well as longer fics focused on particular pairings in the future. To begin with most of these will be based on the prompts for Mushy May on Tumblr.
Another Round - Secondo x Reader E, <1k
Just some all night worship with your Papaā¦
To Tease A Cardinal - Copia x Reader E, 3k
While your Cardinal is away on tour you can't help but tease him from the comforts of his own bedā¦
Shooting His Shot - Terzo x Omega E, <1k
It's the Winter Olympics and Omega gets distracted hearing his favorite ABBA song playing nearbyā¦
Copia on ICE! - Copia x Reader E, 14.8k
At what would probably be your final Winter Olympics you needed to focus on realizing your dream of winning gold. You definitely didn't need to start a whirlwind romance with world famous speed skater Copia Emeritusā¦
Suggestions - Copia x Swiss T, 1k
From a prompt list on Tumblr, an Anon wanted Papa x Swiss with a kiss "as a suggestion"! a very thorough kiss with some suggestive stuff after hehe
š¤ you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!
You've always got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ā”
#HBD beloved oakie ā”#birthday mixtape#my fic recs#ramblingoak#the band ghost fanfiction#ghost band fanfic#oakie's writing#reader insert#copia x reader#secondo x reader#cardinal copia x reader#papa iv x reader
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My favourite post Mockingjay fics
@notafraidtodissapear since you asked š
One shots
making a blank page bloom: drabble collection by songbirdheart
A writer I have discovered recently, I cannot emphasize how much I love her writing. If an angel could write it would be her. This fic is sweet and short. Katniss sings her poem to Peeta.
eden by songbirdheart
Another one by the same author. Can you tell how obsessed I am?!!? Dw you'll understand her genius when you read it. A poem about everlark growing back together.
What's In A Name? by Joshs_left_earlobe
Everlark's first fight, lots of fluff and angst.
Fighting the Rain by starsmahogany (Jodalyn)
Cute fluffy fic of Peeta taking care of Katniss after she comes homes soaked from the rain.
The Unexpected Message by Diana_Flynn
Years after the war has ended Katniss has a fight with Peeta, but she finds an a gift that changes her perspective.
Multi chapter fics.
Baby Steps by Ronja
Growing back together/pregnancy fic, goes back and forth between her pregnancy and their initial growing back post war. Delves into some of the political aspects of Panem, and Katniss and Peeta's involvement. Enjoyed reading this alot.
When the Red X is on the Door By:Ā MADAM BETH
A growing back that fixates more on Peeta's episodes, very realistic and perfect characterization. Timeline goes back and forth from initial post war to their with children. Loved this, it's also 57 chapters so might as well think of it as the 4th missing book.
Growing New Wings By:Ā SkyLark89
Very accurate to the book, I always come back to this fic after my rereads. They rewatch the games to help Peeta's memory and work on the book. Starts off after Peeta's arrival and ends with "real".
A Little Drop of Hope By:Ā Chinchilla17
In Peeta's pov, most growing back fics are in Katniss' pov so it was quite interesting to be in Peeta's mind after the hijacking.
The List orphan_account by silvercistern
This one is a must read, I'm sure everyone has heard of this one. Like if Collins were to write another book it would be this one.
Back to Twelve igsygrace
Another popular one, by the same author who wrote Peeta's games. I don't even need to tell you how good this. I will admit though I had some mixed feelings about the ending, because the author makes them go through another war. I'm not really sure if it's war tbh, but someone is trying to overthrow the government typa shit..
I have a problem with canon divergence so I didn't read the final chapter. idk why canon divergence just feels so wrong to me. But if you do like canon divergence this one could be really good. Anyway it's only the last chapter that is like that, the rest are all regular growing back material.
SynchronicityĀ byĀ ashyblondwaves
A collection of one shots and stories examining Katniss and Peeta's relationship post-Mockingjay. Peeta's POV. Pretty long but I really liked it. There's something about the writing that drew me to it. The problem is I have read a lot of these along time ago so I can't remember the exacts reasons any of these fics stuck out to me, I just remember they did.
Worse Games to Play By:Ā Belmione
How Katniss finally decides to have children. Read a long time ago, but it's really sweet.
#the hunger games#everlark#the hunger games katniss#the hunger games peeta#thg fanfiction#thglibrary masterlist#thg series#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#everlark fanfiction#fanfiction#ao3 writer#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#katniss x peeta#katniss and peeta#thg katniss#peeta supremacy#thg peeta#ao3fic#ao3#ao3 link
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Would you be interested in writing a one-shot story of Lucio X Reader (The Arcana)? Like, itās about people noticing that you two are genuinely in love, and it surprises the former.
A Day Off Together
|| Count Lucio x nonbinary!reader
|| Warnings; none, just fluff and flirty Lucio, short drabble
|| Summary; when Lucio and reader go through the market, a certain stall catches their eyes.
Requests open!
Started; November 2nd
Finished; November 2nd
~~~
To say people were surprised by you and Lucio... would be an understatement. Nobody would have expected the Count to fall so head over heels for anyone that wasn't his own reflection. He was absolutely smitten by you in every sense of the word. Even Nadia was surprised by his behaviour; as this was not the Count she used to know. And definitely not the man she had once called her husband.
Today was a beautiful day in the market. So, Lucio and you decided to go through on a stroll. Lucio made sure you knew that he would get you anything you asked for. Hell, if you wanted an entire market stall? It would be yours. All you would have to do is ask. Hand in hand the two of you walked. Just appreciating being in the presence of each other. Somedays it feels as though you don't get to see him as much as you'd like, with his duties as Count and yours as Court Magician. It was a much needed break for the both of you. A day off together.
You had originally planned on not getting anything. Not wanting your lover to spend more than needed, but- a stall caught your eyes. Well, how could it not? It practically called for attention in its beautiful sparkling gems that glittered in the sun. You were drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Lucio smirked. He knew how you worked by now, he wasn't as stupid as people pegged him for. He knew you. And knew you had originally come in not wanting anything other than each other's presence on a nice walk through the market. Internally he was laughing to himself and at you, only just a bit. In the most lighthearted way possible, of course. Wondering how you could have ever thought you would come into the market and not get a thing. He knew something would catch your eyes eventually. As they often did.
"Lucio.." You breathed, eyes wide in awe as you took in all the gems. Sparkling so bright you were sure they had to be enchanted, though you sensed no magic. They just caught the sunlight in all the right ways. Your fingers brushed feather light touches against a jewel, a jewel that was attached to a thin rose gold chain. The jewel itself was your favourite crystal. You'd noticed it before you even got to the stall. And you knew you had to have it. Lucio's hand came and rested on your shoulder, a gentle smirk on his lips as he saw the necklace you were admiring.
"You don't even have to ask, my love." He kissed your cheek, making you smile at the gesture. He had a real soft spot for you.
"We'll take this one here. And any one with the same crystals." Lucio told the stall owner, who quickly nodded and raced around his stall. Collecting the jewelry and putting them in little pouches for you. Lucio gave you a wink and your cheeks flushed.
"I only wanted the one-" You had started to say, but Lucio laughed and shook his head.
"Why settle for one when your beauty knows no bounds? It wouldn't be right." His arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you in close which got a giggle out of you. God, he was ridiculous. But he was yours. You loved him more than anything.
The merchant watched the two of you as he focused on his tasks, his eyes going to the Count. In all the years he's known him, this would have to be the most relaxed Lucio has ever been. It was surprising. He didn't think it was possible for someone to reel in such a free spirit as the Count; but it seems you have done just that. And all of Vesuvia was thankful for you. Lucio's been much more tolerable lately.
With your new jewelry, you and Lucio made your way out of the market. Lucio's hands came up from your hips, gently taking the pouch that held the necklace you'd originally wanted. He took it out of its holdings and rested it to your neck. A soft smile on his lips as he attached it to you. Earning a blush from you.
"You look absolutely perfect.." He murmured, gently pushing your hair aside and leaving a kiss on the skin there. His lips brushing the back of your neck in a way that made you shiver.
"Mm... thank you." You whispered back and his golden fingers latched around your hand. Intertwining with your own fingers.
"My pleasure." He winked at you and the two of you headed home to the palace.
#fanfic#x reader#canon x reader#nonbinary reader#the arcana fiction#the arcana fanfics#lucio x gender neutral reader#count lucio x mc#count lucio x reader#count lucio#lucio x mc#lucio the arcana#lucio arcana#lucio x reader#count lucio x gender neutral reader#lucio morgasson#lucio x nonbinary reader#count lucio x nonbinary reader#fluff#the arcana x reader#the arcana#lucio fluff#reneesghostinthelivingroom
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HEYYY (iāve never done this before PFFT)
so i was wondering if you could write a loki x reader one shot where theyāre both avengers and both friends (but they both have a thing for each other yk) and one night reader goes to a concert (doesnāt matter who) maybe they go with some other fellow avengers or people around the tower (loki doesnāt go) anyways the next day loki asks the reader how it was and everything (cause i imagine he doesnāt know a lot about the concept of concerts very much) and then he hears the readers very raspy and dead voice (from screaming at the concert) and he gets like flustered from it and fjsjdjslskfjf basically he thinks itās hot
donāt feel like u have to do this at all š«¶š«¶
this request is so cute!! i'll do it for you !!!
a domestic avengers drabble
it's short and sweet, because i'm writing this at work (shh)
"I'm so excited, I can't wait! Help my pick out what to wear!" you begged Loki, dragging him by the hand into your room.
He followed you, pretending to be exasperated by your request, but even the great Loki couldn't hide the smile you brought to his gorgeous face.
"Who are you seeing, again?" he questioned, laying out on top of your bed, holding one of the squishmallows from your collection.
Loki watched you dig clothes out of your closet, holding up hangers for him.
"Dominic Fike!" you announced, holding a sundress up to your body.
"I think the jeans," he advised, grinning at you.
"You're right, of course," you agreed, throwing them at him, earning another laugh.
He never laughed with anyone else the way he did with you.
"Are you sure you don't want to come? Pretty much everyone is going," you invited him again as you selected a shirt from your collection.
"I can't, but I'll see you in the morning," he promised, his face turning a light shade of pink as you kicked off your volley shorts, pulling on the jeans youād picked out.
You didnāt think before doing it ā so comfortable around Loki, that it didnāt even register until you noticed him staring down at the squishmallow, forcing himself not to look at your exposed legs.
āFine, but youāre missing out,ā you tried to soothe the beat of embarrassment.
āIām looking forward to hearing all about it in the morning,ā he said sweetly.
.
You woke up with a raw and scratchy throat, as well as a dull throbbing headache. The concert was amazing ā you and Yelena had screamed your lungs out, but now you were paying the price.
When you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed, you wandered down to the tower kitchen, in search of a cup of tea.
āMorning. How was it?ā Loki asked.
āGood, great, it was so much fun,ā you rasped, your voice sounding gravely from your worn-out throat.
Loki swallowed hard, his body having a physical reaction to your voice. He didnāt know what possessed him ā his pants tightened at the sound of your gravely voice. Your hair was messy and there were dark circles under your eyes - and it made Loki feral.
āWould you get me a tea? Itās faster with your magic,ā you asked, yawning as you took a seat at the breakfast bar.
āLoki?ā
You raised an eyebrow when he didnāt answer, realizing he was staring at you.
āSorry, yes,ā he mumbled, clearly flustered, suddenly avoiding your eyes.
āWhatās wrong?ā You walked around the counter to where he stood.
āI, fuck, I canāt help it, itās how fucking hot you are right nowāā he apologized quickly as you noticed his hard on.
āLoki,ā you grabbed his forearm before he could disappear.
āIām sorryāā
Before he could finish the apology, you kissed him, interrupting the god mid-sentence. His hands went to your hips, finding their place as you shattered the last illusion of friendship between you.
āI could help with that,ā you offered when you broke for air, your other hand going down to his waistband.
āWho am I to turn you down?ā Loki smiled against your lips.
āNot here, though, where weāll be caught.ā
"Why? You don't want your superhuman friends to see me bring the god to his knees?" you teased, nipping the shell of his ear, squealing as he picked you up.
"Careful, or you'll get what you ask for," he threatened, closing his bedroom door behind the two of you.
He dropped you down on his mattress, pulling his lower lip between his teeth when he realized that you were only wearing panties beneath your oversized sweatshirt.
"Christ," Loki swore, kissing up the inside of your thigh, his thumb rubbing you through the thin fabric that was quickly darkening with your excitement.
"Loki, I need you inside me, now," you practically whimpered, dragging him up to kiss you again, needy and rough as you pulled on his hair.
#loki#loki fluff#loki x reader#loki x reader fluff#loki x reader smut#loki smut#avengers#avengers au#loki au#loki x you#marvel#loki fanfic#loki fic
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Sailor-Aviator's Playlist Writing Challenge
Hello, hello!! Welcome back to another writing challenge! This one also had a lot of votes in the poll I posted, so I figured why not go ahead and release it?
The Concept
I have what some might call an eclectic music taste. What does that mean? I like a bit of just about everything! So, I compiled a list of songs from my playlists that I thought might make good fanfic inspiration! As with my Christmas Challenge, there will be a limited number of spots for each song! Just send me a DM/ask telling me which song you'd like to choose and for which Top Gun character you'd like to write for!
The Rules
You may sign up for more than one slot as long as there are slots available. However, you can not take up two slots for the same song.
Tag your fics appropriately! (Angst, smut, fluff, warnings, etc.)
18+ ONLY!
This can be a series, a one-shot, moodboards, or even a collection of drabbles! Just have fun with it!
You MUST use your song in some way in the fic. For example, if your song is Two Doors Down by Dolly Parton, then you could write about going to a party or about being a Dagger's neighbor.
HAVE FUN!!!
This writing challenge will not have a time limit, and you can sign up whenever you want! When you are finished (or started the series/collection), you can shoot me the link so I can tag it below. Also, please tag me in the fic and tag the challenge! The more the merrier! Now, there are some popular artists on here, but I encourage EVERYONE to listen to ALL the songs before making your decisions!! I will add more songs if I need to as well!
Tagging a couple of mutuals who I think would be interested: @goldenseresinretriever @bobgasm @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @jupitercomet @seresinhangmanjake @number-0-iz
The Playlist
Songs below the cut!
Two Doors Down by Dolly Parton
@aworldinsideaperson w/ Jake Seresin
@alegendoftomorrow w/ the Dagger Squad
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Ends of the Earth by Lord Huron
alegendoftomorrow w/ Bradley Bradshaw
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Work Song by Hozier
@devil-angel-winchester w/ Bradley Bradshaw
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Darling by Halsey
@goldenseresinretriever w/ Tom Kazansky
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The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens
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Stolen by Dashboard Confessional
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Youth by Troye Sivan
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Get on the Road by Tired Pony
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Littlething by Jimmy Eat World
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The Saltwater Room by Owl City
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Enchanted by Taylor Swift
@shinycupcakebaker w/ Bob Floyd
@seresinsbrat w/ Bradley Bradshaw
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Georgia by Vance Joy
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I'll Be by Edwin McCain
@powellssugarbaby w/ Jake Seresin
@sweetwhispersofchaos w/ Bob Floyd
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Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar
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New Religion by The Heydaze
@aworldinsideaperson w/ Bradley Bradshaw
alegendoftomorrow w/ Jake Seresin
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She Burns by Foy Vance
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Shrike by Hozier
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Dancing With the Devil by Short Stack
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Like Real People Do by Hozier
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Shut Up and Dance by WALK THE MOON
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Bright by Echosmith
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Someone to You by BANNERS
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WILD by Troye Sivan
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Stay With Me by ayokay
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Iris by Jada Forcer
goldenseresinretriever w/ Tom Kazansky
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Sunshine by Short Stack
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Tell Her You Love Her by Echosmith
aworldinsideaperson w/ Bradley Bradshaw
alegendoftomorrow w/ Bob Floyd
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Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac
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Too Late to Turn Back Now by Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose
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Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks
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Mine by Taylor Swift
@bellaireland1981 w/ Bradley Bradshaw
alegendoftomorrow w/ Bradley Bradshaw
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Landslide by Fleetwood Mac
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Burn You Down by Short Stack
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Jolene by Dolly Parton
@dingochef w/ Jake Seresin
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Pretty Carolina by Jontha Links
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Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers
aworldinsideaperson w/ Bob Floyd
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Style by Taylor Swift
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Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift
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You and Me by Lifehouse
@bobgasm w/ Bob Floyd
seresinsbrat w/ Jake Seresin
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Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac
aworldinsideaperson w/ (TBD)
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#writing challenge#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x reader#hangman x reader#hangman top gun#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster top gun#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#robert floyd#robert bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x reader#bob top gun
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Shot for shot
Jealous Kaeya Alberich/gn!vision wielder!reader
Rating: T
Requested by: N/a
Word count: 1182
Short fic inspired by @electrosair from their post "Jealous headcanons anemo + cryo ver."
Notes: hi hope u dont mind this!! I got really inspired by the kaeya section and well the writing gods just had to possess me :,) this was supposed to be a drabble but then I blinked and I hit 1k words
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
You and Kaeya were shot for shot so far. Bar hopping in Mond was a treat for you, even if it was a little more regular for your boyfriend. Unfortunately, your daily habits did not lend themselves well to a constant stupor.
But every so often, for a special evening of fun, Kaeya would dress the both of you in your favourite clothes and whizz you out the door for a night on the town.
The Angel's Share was your last stop for the night. You'd already said hi to Diona and many of the other working bartenders at your regular places, and now Charles was setting the two of you up with a special limited time new flavour of dandelion wine.
You watched as he poured the ingredients into two tall glasses, vision swimming as you watched green pearlescent liquid swirl in to mix with the wine. You smile dopily at it, swinging your head loosely around to look at your partner. "Babe look it's like. It's like Venti," you giggle out. "It's green and sparkly."
Kaeya, just as plastered as you, snorts out a laugh into the back of his hand. "I'll say. Contains just the right amount of wine, too."
You turn back to Charles. "Has Venti had one of these yet?"
He tops off your glasses and pushes them towards you, moving on to collect other empty glasses from patrons around the bar adjacent to them. "No," he thinks, "but I'll tell him you recommend it next time he comes in."
You shrug, drunkenly content with that answer. This was only released within the last few days, and it wasn't like the bard was at the Angel's Share every night. Taking the glass, you take a gulp of the drink.
To say it's new is an understatement. You have no idea what kind of things Diluc was experimenting with, but this topped anything he'd ever done. The ice in the bottom kept it chilly as sweet wine, a hint of Mondstat's sweet mint, a little side of lime, and something just distinctly flavoured as green slides down your tongue. It's a refreshing taste after the last bar, which was arguably one of the cheapest ones in town.
A sound makes its way out of your mouth, unsure in it's own sound if it's some kind of moan, warble, or drunken hiccup.
You blink. Wiping your mouth, you can't help but giggle. "Sorry Charles, I'm really drunk and that is going to be a smash hit."
When you look back at your boyfriend, he's staring at you, but not at your face, mouth open in soft wonder, eyes dancing in a glinting light.
"Kaeya? What's wrong?"
"Your vision..." he responds softly. You look over to where it's attached to you. It's glowing a faint light, not quite enough to rival the firelight from the torches, but enough to ad a coloured hue. The other patrons in the bar hush down to look at what's making the light.
After a moment, the wave of drunk from taking another sip passes and the light fades back to nothingness.
You stare at your vision, head swimming with too much inebriation to make any sense of what just happened.
The two of you look at Charles. He glances between the both of you, but shrugs. "We've never had anyone with a vision try it yet."
You scan yourself up and down. "Well..." you meet Kaeya's eyes to reassure him. "I don't feel any different. Not bad, just drunk." You give him a sloppy thumbs up, elbow supported up by the table.
Kaeya shakes his head at you, smiling. You can hear his amusement in his voice, "I'll try that next, but I gotta hit the head before I give it a shot." He runs a hand over your hair that lazily slides down your cheek before he gets up and goes to find the bathroom.
As he does so, a large group of patrons exit the bar for the night, so Charles picks up his empty plate tray and swings his towel over his shoulder. "Holler if you need anything," he says, and you swivel your thumbs up towards him.
He leaves the bar to collect the glasses and trays, and as he does so you turn to ponder your drink.
Your thoughts space out, mingling images of Venti's happy, laughing face and what his thoughts would be on this drink, shifting over to Kaeya, his hands on your face, resting against him at the bar, andā
"Excuse me?" You jolt up, focus broken from the still slowly swirling beverage in front of you.
"Can I help you?" You direct your gaze towards them. It's a man, a young man, with windswept brown hair dressed in the knight's uniform. His cheeks are rosy, but clearly he has more of his wits about him than you.
Not that you couldn't hold your own against him, regardless. But he didn't seem to know that.
He sits down in Kaeya's seat to look at you.
"I saw your vision when it started glowing. That was really cool."
You turn and give him a smile. At least he's friendly. "Thanks! I got it from doing things." You give him your best serious wobbly nod and he chuckles at you.
"Well, anyway, I'm Browen."
"Nice to meet you Browen, I'm [___]".
He smirks at you, taking your answer as an invitation to continue. "I have a vision myself you know."
Your eyebrows raise. "Really?" You glance around his form, but don't spot the framed crystal anywhere.
"Yeah," he says, "I keep it at home because I'm not supposed to wear it around the other knights." He leans close to you, putting his hand up to his mouth like he's sharing a secret. "They get jealous." He winks over at the table where his knight companions are more focused on their own drink and camaraderie than on whatever was happening here.
"I could take you home, show it to you," he prompts, and you feel disappointment rush through you. Of course he's a liar who just wants to get into your pants because you have a vision. You need to tell Jean to whip these men into better shape.
"What would you like to show us, Browen?" A hand claps hard onto the knight's shoulder as a familiarly sultry voice soothes your agitated nerves. The man shoots up straight, expression changing to one like a dog caught stealing.
He stands up, stumbling over himself to get back to his original table. "N-nothing, Captain. Sorry to bother you."
You sigh as he leaves, tension flooding out of you. "That's more like it."
"Come on, love." Kaeya swings his arms around your shoulders and tosses coin on the table for Charles when he returns.
"Where are we going? We're not going to finish?" You glance up at him, your shoulders at his rib level.
The hand around your arm squeezes as he ducks down to whisper in your ear, "oh, I think my home private show is going to remain private."
#i literally see anything w jealous kaeya and my brain goes haywire#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#x reader#x gn!reader#kaeya alberich#kaeya alberich x reader#kaeya x reader#genshin fluff#fun fact the wine diluc made is the only wine that can get venti plastered#shit. id be an alchemist wouldnt i. this is the second original concoction ive made for genshin#FT: long fic
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hi days the recommendation queen in NaruHina fandomāŗļø I am looking for a fic one shot but a multiple chapters have the same prompts like the "tale of two ninjas" by magmawrite I already scrolled my 3 accounts but I couldn't find itš thanks in advance for the help daysš
hmmmm same prompts as magmawrites's Tales of Two Ninjas? I don't know about the SAME prompts since magmawrites's fics weren't exactly prompted by an event. So no fic would have all the exact same prompts as magmawrites's stuff.
I will take this opportunity to now list every single one-shot collection that I can find/think of. This will be very long.
One-Shot Collection NaruHina Fics
"Naruhina Month" by NaniMok - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Fluff, fluff and a little bit of something else. One shots written for Naruhina Month 2014.
"Sunbeams" by Mangospoons - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Related one-shots. Someday Hinata would know what it was like to run that hair through her fingers, liquid gold. Sunbeams - A continuation of Moonstruck. Drabbles of Naru/Hina Based on the DA 100 Themes
"Postscripts" by Waterrolls - Rated T, mostly Canon-Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Drabbles of the NaruHina kind. A collection of unrelated short stories prompted by the wonderful and creative readers of tumblr, FFN, AO3, and Wattpad :) Mostly humor but will have occasional drama. Slice of life, romantic fluff, family bonding, what-ifs, AUs, angst.
"On Being Brave" by Mintacia - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots (mostly). Honestly, Naruto thought Hinata's nervous behavior was kind of cute. He liked the way her cheeks turned pink and her eyes widened. Slowly, he starts to realize it's all because of him. / ONE-SHOT COLLECTION; let's explore how love develops; NaruHina.
"Of Parallel Lines and Intersections" by mysterious intentions - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. No matter the time, place, or world, their parallel lives always found an intersection. A series of NaruHina AUs.
"Between the Trees" by @utsus - Not Rated, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A collection of naruto prompt responses I have written, and will continue to write. These and a few other stories I have not published on ao3 are all originally posted onĀ tumblr. The stories here are all NaruHina in different times, places, situations, and understandings of one another.
"People Like Her" by @happyocelot - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. ...were super weird. Naruto didn't know why Hinata was so shy all the time, why she always covered her mouth when she laughed. He wished she wouldn't. He was sure she had a nice smile. (Just a bunch of NH drabble requests.)
"A Book He Desperately Wanted to Read" by Happy_Ocelot - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Never in his worst nightmares did he ever imagine that he'd be watching a live-action adaptation of Icha Icha Tactics with Hyuuga Hinata of all people. She was a book whose contents he could not decipher.
"When I Look At You" by Happy_Ocelot - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, Series of unrelated one-shots. ...I get an intense feeling in my heart. For NaruHina Week 2021.
"Sunny Days" by Happy_Ocelot - Rated T, Canon-Compliant/ Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. "Naruto sometimes couldn't believe that there was ever a time before he knew that Hinata could eat forty-six bowls of ramen without puking, before he went on missions with her and found out that shy, dark weirdos were actually kind of cool and brave and awesome. It was like a seismic shift." One-shots for NaruHina Month 2021.
"Still Falling For You" by @chloelapomme - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. All written for the NaruHina year 2020 event
"Switching Positions" by ChloeLaPomme - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A collection of 10(0)1 NaruHina short one shorts. Broke into several parts for a better understanding.
"Some Type of Love" by ChloeLaPomme & Imanga - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. All written for the NaruHina month 2022 Tumblr event.
"Small Doses" by ChloeLaPomme - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. All written for the NaruHina month 2021 event
"With You in the Future" by ChloeLaPomme - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, Series of one-shots. Back at Konoha from their moon mission, Naruto and Hinata learn to know each other, how to live with each other, how to solves problems together, and how to start a family. With their past behind them, their future is right before them.
I just want to take a pause here to admire all of the one-shot series Chloe has written š®
"The Little Joys and Sorrows of Everydayness" by Imanga - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of one-shots. A series of unrelated one-shots about domestic life, written for the NaruHina Week 2021 event.
"Lips, Tongue, Teeth" by @wickermayne - Rated E, Canon-Compatible, Series of unrelated one-shots. One month of wet blowjobs, messy pussy eating, and all other sorts of oral fixations. Welcome to Sucktember. All NaruHina.
"naruhina oneshots" by @powerful-niya - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. I will look for you in every lifetime until we finally stay.
"when love lasts - 2022 naruhina month" by Powerful_Niya - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. To love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to love and be loved is everything.
"kiss me, thrill me - naruhina" by Powerful_Niya - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. An inside look at Naruto and Hinata's lives as they navigate the complex world of sexuality and grow more intimate than ever.
"heartbreaks & heartaches" by Powerful_Niya - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Welcome to the NHPrompts22 Tumblr Event! I have created several different one-shots according to the prompts listed within this event! All are different in their own way. But they can either make you leap for joy or weep in sadness. I truly hope you enjoy.
"NaruHina Month December 2022" by @sessakag - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A collection of one-shots written for the NaruHina fair on tumblr!
"NaruHina Month 2023" by Sessakag - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A collection of one-shots written for the NaruHina fair on tumblr! Enjoy!
"secret lovers" by @quirrrky - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, Series of one-shots. After the Fourth Shinobi War, Naruto was gradually falling in love with Hinata and the whole village of Konoha knew itā¦Well, aside from him.
"star vessel" by quirrrky - Rated T/M, Canon-Compliant, Series of one-shots. From a jealous boyfriend to missions together, honeymoon, overprotective husband, nightmares and reveries. Everything from the moon and back.
"eclipses" by quirrrky - Rated M, Canon-Compliant, Series of one-shots. A Collection of NaruHina and/or Sunshine Family Drabbles, One-shots and Headcanons
"Orange and Lavender" by ReadingBennie - Rated M, Various AU, Series of one-shots. A collection of one shots for Naruhina month 2016.
"Oranges and Lavender" by @journalist298 - Rated M, Various AU, Series of one-shots. Ā A series of oneshots for the NaruHina fan needing a fix of their favourite pairing. Whether Narutoverse or AU, there should be something for everyone.
"Celebrating the Festivities" by journalist298 (Wandering Wonderer) - Rated M, Canon-Compliant AU, Series of related one-shots. It was to be the most eventful time of her life. Her favourite festivities, Christmas, Birthday and New Years just got a whole lot better. From first date, to first love, Hinata finds happiness.
"NaruHina Erotica Oneshots" by Makuro767 - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. No summary.
"The Wonderful and Heartfelt Times of NaruHina" by @journalsofagoddess - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Today we celebrate the month of our canon ship, NaruHina. And as a way to celebrate, I present to you thirty one prompts all filled with lovely tender moments, hilarious, and heart warming NaruHina. [2015]
"A Love Story Like Never Before" by jojo07 - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. To be loved by someone you love is the most beautiful thing you can ever experience. No words can describe the magical experience you're going through. And who's better to prove this than Naruto and Hinata? 31 prompts of their love will never be enough-but it'll show how strong and amazing their love really is. For NaruHina month [2016]
"My Name on Your Lips" by katarinahime - Rated M, Canon-Compliant, Series of related one-shots. Hinata calls Naruto a plethora of different names, some he enjoys more than others.
"Proud Failures to Proud Parents - NaruHina month 2016" by xHinaLovex - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. My contribution for NaruHina month 2016. Some cute, some not so much, some canon, and some AU. Just a smattering of stories to celebrate my favorite couple.
"A Celebration of All Things NaruHina" by xHinaLovex - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. My contribution to NaruHina month 2015.
"A Story of Extraordinary Love" by petrichorlullaby (Stillers) - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A series of one-shots for NaruHina Month 2k15.
"NaruHina 2020" by @angelicalixx - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, Series of one-shots. A collection of short NaruHina fics for NaruHina 2020.
"NaruHina Week 2017" by @hinatamyqueen - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Little and silly drabbles for the Naruhina Week of 2017.
"The sweet, shy, innocent, Kunoichi" by @tjtheanimelover - Rated E, Canon-Compatible, Series of one-shots. See Naruto's point of view as he and Hinata partake in some naughty activities
"NaruHina Oneshot Prompts" by TJtheanimelover - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Series of Prompts for the NHPrompts2022 event on Tumblr. There will be angst, smut, and fluff. Pairings are Naruhina and MenHina
"NaruHina & MenHina Lemons" by Veradux - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. First time writing NaruHina & MenHina smut one shots.
"Tales of the Seventh Hokage and the Byakugan Hime" by Nihal Tonks-Lupin - Rated E, Canon-Compatible, Series of one-shots. Short stories about Naruto and Hinata's love and sex life, this is my contribution for NaruHina Smut Month! [2015]
"love incredible" from @ellaroundpanda - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A collection of seven oneshots for the naruhina smut week event by @browniefic
"They Define Us" by gl22 - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. For NaruHina Month 2015. There will be drabbles, short one-shots, and long one-shots. Some will have spoilers to Naruto: The Last. Some will also feature the future generation, mostly Boruto and Himawari.
"Endless lemons" by agitosgirl - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. This is just a bunch of lemony oneshots rolled into one story! From a foxy Naruto, to a cute little bunny Hinata! Do you have an idea for a lemon that you want to see typed out? Well then, come on in and you just might find it!
"Walking Beside You" by @spyder-m - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. My contributions to NaruHina month. Individual summaries inside. [2016]
"All the Rage" by spyder-m - Rated M, Various AU, Series of related and unrelated one-shots. Naruhina oneshots and drabbles of all shapes and sizes, inspired by articles of clothing. Fluff, citrus, humour, family, friendship and angst. Canon compliant stories and AUs. Individual summaries inside.
"Day After Day" by spyder-m - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of one-shots. Oneshot series exploring the day to day life of Naruto and Hinata post-The Last. Headcanons about them dating, living together and starting a family.
"Your Hand in Mine" by spyder-m - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. My contributions to Naruhina Week, 2017. Individual summaries inside.
"In your eyes" by @char-lotteral - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. "I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe weāre from the same star." -Emery Allen. A collection and series of Naruhina One shots, drabbles and snippets for Naruhina month 2021
"Sol and Luna" by charlotteral - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. a collection of one shots and drabbles for NHWeek 2021
"Shorts" by breakfastinbed - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. a collection of naruhina shorts.
"Nice Legs, Daisy Dukes" by Star-Child-Yeci - Rated T, Various AU, Series of related one-shots. One Shot, Drabble Collection / Because Menma is strangely territorial and Hinata has better things...people to do.
"you still get my heart racing" by mellieforyellie - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. i've spent my whole life trying to put it into words. ā naruhina month 2015
"Sunshine Snippets" by Szajnie - Rated M, Canon-Compliant, Series of one-shots. bits of pieces for my OTP
"Lives of Konoha's Couples!" by Satoorihoya - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Short stories written for the Konoha couples. Some AUs, some Naruto centric.
"Sunshine Tales" by blossomdreams - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Naruto and Hinata fell in love with each other in different ways that only strengthen their bond through time. The bond that follows them through their life in the village and at time different universes. With appearances from their friends and family. My entries for NaruHina month. [2015]
"The Sun and The Moon" by MoonPheonix - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A series of short stories involving Naruto and Hinata
"Lost and Found" by @matchaball - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. We could meet a thousand different ways in a thousand different times but I'll always know I'll find you.
"Pearl Eyes and Moonlight" by MateriaFlower1-1 - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Ā A collection of one-shots, detailing the life, times, joys, and troubles of Naruto and Hinata. Follow them from their youth to their old age, seeing how their relationship evolves over time, peace and war. This will follow several timelines through non-sequential one-shots.
"Working Class" by unfitpuzzle and LovelyLori - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A collection of one-shot's featuring NaruHina in the workforce; inspired by cup-of-hot-coffee's Job AUs on Tumblr.
"A Collection of Stories (NaruHina)" by HoneyWriter78 - Rated E, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A collection of Stories involving my ultimate favourite pairing.
"Closer" by Lynns - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of related one-shots. Relationships are slowly built from the ground up and it is something that you simply do not rush into. Naruto was flattered after hearing Hinata's confession and the two of them will take the small baby steps that will lead them closer together.
"True Sight" by hinatasgreatestfan - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. This is my series of NaruHina drabbles.
"One Small Step" by Shawny Wong - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of related one-shots. What if Hinata had actually found the courage to approach Naruto at the Academy? How would befriending him change their lives? Drastic changes are the result of one small step.
"Ten Defining Moments" by Shawny Wong - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of related one-shots. Fluff, angst, drama, and a whole lot of sappy romance. Stir well. A story that spans 10 special events in Naruto and Hinataās lives. Written for the Thirty Kisses community on Live Journal.
"Lord Hokage" by EroPrincess - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of one-shots. To commemorate NaruHina becoming canon in Naruto, here's my smutty contribution.
"NaruHina Oneshots" by OrenjiRabenda - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A collection of NaruHina one-shots and original art drawn by yours truly!
"A Month of Moments" by @tenney-shoes - Rated G, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. My submissions for NaruHina Month. Most will be very short little drabbles based on the prompt for each day. [2015]
"Tumbler prompts and dabbles" by @linisen - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Collection of dabbles from my prompt list on Tumblr containing mostly NaruHina fluff.
"Bound" by suryass - Rated M, Modern AU, Series of related one-shots. Mafia AU-Collection of oneshots.
"it's only us" by monkkeyslut - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of related one-shots. A series of kisses that Hinata and Naruto share.
"Blue and White Eyes" by kiiam - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Some NaruHina drabbles written for people to enjoy.
"Walk with you: Naruhina month prompts" by theidealist21 - Rated G, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Ā A collection of stories I made for Naruhina Month. [2014]
"Naruto Drabble Series" by InTheMist032000 - Rated M, Various AU, Series of mostly unrelated one-shots. A drabble series of various ratings and characters. Mainly NaruHina and SasuSaku, Rating T-M.
"Moments" by Awkward Inc - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. We tend to remember our lives based on the most important events, but life is constructed mainly of insignificant moments.
"NH Month 2023" by @opttagoyeo - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Scribbles/Drabbles for Naruhina Month 2023.
"NaruHina Month 2023" by @diyas-diaries-98 - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. No summary.
"Memories of NaruHina Month 2022" by diyas-diaries-98 (Narutos_girl) - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. These are my first works for NaruHina Month 2022 event.
"onsra" by niege1010 - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Onsra (n.): bittersweet moment when you love for the last time or realize your love won't continue. Drabble collection for NaruHina month
"idyllic" by niege1010 - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Idyllic (a.): an idyllic place or experience is extremely pleasant, beautiful, or peaceful. Drabble collection for NaruHina month [2022]
here are all of mine:
"Shared Vows" - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, Series of one-shots. A series of one-shots concerning the highs, lows, and in-betweens of their romance, not in any chronological order.
"love letters" - Rated M, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A series of very short concept fics.
"Perfect Clarity" - Rated G, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A series of fluffy short one-shots of Naruto and Hinata making each other blush in Modern AU. Written for badluckbrebis (Imanga) for Tumblr's NaruHina Secret Santa 2020!!
I hope you already found the fic you were looking for or that the one you're thinking of is somewhere in this huge list!
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Please join us for TWHHA Winter 24' Challenge! Are you an author or an artist? If so, please consider joining in on the challenge!
What is the TWHHA Challenge?
Authors and artists are welcomed (and encouraged) to join us in creating an idea/story around the idea that Everlark would have happened anyway, specifically in this case, what would have happened if Katniss and Peeta were married before, during, or after Catching Fire. Pairing: Everlark Type: Fan Fiction or Fan Art. Words: Over 1000 words (drabbles, one-shots or short multi-chapter fic are all welcome! We would like to have submission completed although it isnāt mandatory) Theme/Prompt:Ā MARRIED BEFORE/DURING/AFTER CATCHING FIREĀ š„
What's the deadline?
1. You can confirm participation until Dec 10th (in Tumblr, answering this post and tagging @publiusao3) and you will be granted access to the collection to submit your work. 2. You can submit your fics up to Dec 30th midnight (CET time!) 3. Collection will be live Jan 1st, 2024 with all submissions listed with anonymous authors 4. Writers will be revealed Jan 10th
If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact @promptseverlark
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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, November 13
AMANDA: I think we got punished. BUFFY: What? KENNEDY: (nervously) We, uh...we followed her. And it was- VI: It didn't work out. BUFFY: You guys, it was a trap. It's not her fault. That could've just as easily happened to me.
~~End of Days~~
[Drabbles & Short Fiction]
BtVS Triple Drabble: Broken-Hearted by badly_knitted (Cordelia, Xander, PG)
Home Coming by Skyson (Buffy/Giles, E)
Desperate and Chained by JammySmut (Buffy/Spike, E)
Bloodbath by Apache Firecat (Buffy/Spike, R)
Family by Apache Firecat (Buffy/Spike, PG)
Home Again by Apache Firecat (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)
Sacrifice by Apache Firecat (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)
Buffy's Chosen by Apache Firecat (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)
Worthy of Her Choosing by Apache Firecat (Buffy/Spike, PG)
Mic Drop by Apache Firecat (Buffy/Spike, G)
[Chaptered Fiction]
Many, Many - ch. 1 by Nixiet (Buffy/Giles, E)
Streaming Life - ch. 1-2 by VerticalCouch (Giles/Jenny, Giles/Ethan, Giles/Jenny/Ethan, G)
When Faith Came to Town - ch. 1 by red_jacobson (Faith, Buffy/Xander/Cordelia, E)
Please Hold- My Soap is On by once_in_a_while (Giles/Spike, M)
The Shadow Within - Ch. 1 by Fmfan1980 (Faith, F/F, F/M, E)
[Podfic] Tatters - ch. 1 [reading of Tatters by Martha] by SEF_podfic (ATS ensemble, Stargate SG-1 and The Sentinel (TV) xover, T)
A Series of Fortunate Betrayals - ch. 2 by the_big_bad (Buffy/Spike, R)
The Big Bad...Poodle? - ch. 3 by EnchantedWillow (Buffy/Spike, R)
Mysterious Destinies - ch. 21 by EnchantedWillow (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)
First Love - ch. 3 by Spikesgirl28 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)
Masquerade - ch. 3 by Holly (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)
Be Back Before Dawn - ch. 16 by Blissymbolics (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)
First Love - Ch. 3 by Spikesgirl (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)
Revelations - ch. 6 by Niamh (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)
Eyes Forward, Monster - ch. 1-8 [collection of one shots] by Desicat (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)
[Images, Audio & Video]
Artwork: i love you. no, you don't. but thanks for sayin' it. by tenderjock (Spike, worksafe)
Artwork: ive seen some of ur black buffy posts and theyre AMAZING... by pzyii (Dawn, worksafe)
Meme: [Willow] by paperpuzzles (Willow, worksafe)
Moodboard: moodboard: wesley x fred by courtillyy (worksafe)
Moodboard: moodboard: fred x wesley x gunn by courtillyy (worksafe)
Gifset: iwryfanficmarathon's 20th anniversary bangel + locations ā³ cemetery by ptieuca (Buffy/Angel, worksafe)
Gifset: [Buffy and Spike in Season 5] by clarkgriffon (Buffy/Spike, mostly worksafe)
Gifset w/script: ANGEL ā¦ SCRIPT TO SCREEN ā„ 3.13 āWaiting in the Wingsā by cangelgifs (Angel/Cordelia, worksafe)
[Reviews & Recaps]
I find Showtime (episode 7x11)ā¦.bad? by Forward_Activity1473
[Recs & In Search Of]
Fic recs: Myriad Recs [Spuffy and Cangel fic recs] by apachefirecat
ISO: thequeenofsastiel needs some Spangel songs.
ISO: samandcolbyfan is looking for Caitlin and Barry or spike and Buffy RP anyone?
[Fandom Discussions]
Send me a ship to rate! [Buffy/Cordelia] by takaraphoenix
I would argue that Buffy is somehow even more [the most character ever] by paperpuzzles
Ask answered: does Zuko [from Avatar] remind you of Angel at all? by fishyupmywishy
POLL: Spangel or Spuffy? by thequeenofsastiel
POLL: which Buffyverse unpopular opinion do you at least partially agree with? by ohrupie
POLL: a little bit of a ship war but like... just for fun? best Buffy ship? by terapsina
What If: They said no? [to Wolfram and Hart] by nightshade and others
The First [was not a good Big Bad] by No_Introduction_4136
James Marsters Cameo (discussion) by nooneormaybesomeone
Anyone still listening to Rewatcher? [the podcast] by ewdayvid
Blu Rays on EBay [bootleg and discussion of HD and DVD] by bcakebeefcake
Jane Espenson episodes - what do you think of her humor? by foreseethefuture
... all the times someone asked [Buffy] what she/we should do. I found 18 by diehardnick
The greatest missed opportunity... [full BTVS and ATS crossover] by SnooSongs4451
[Spike gives you a choice:] staying dead, or being a vampire. What do you choose? by quoththeraven1990
Who has the best quotes in the show? by AnyNeck1885
[Buffy and Faith and fighting styles and Buffy vs. The Beast] by cigarettesonmars
Tara holding the Tower tarot card by rfresa
Five by Five - AtS S1E18 [how does Angel enter the apt?] by Physmo55
Dead Things [Katrina and injuries] by CleanUpOnAisle10
Wesley's most fierce "rogue demon hunter" moment, followed by hunger by sirtch_analyst
What's your headcanon for Angel and Buffy's reunion in S6? by porkchop_2020
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THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED ANYWAY CHALLENGE
TWHHA challenge is BACK!
āThis Would Have Happened Anywayā Challenge for Winter ā24
Katniss says it at the end of Mockingjay:
āBut his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him, "Real.ā
So letās explore āWhat ifsā and send your fics. The theme this time is MARRIED BEFORE/DURING/AFTER CATCHING FIRE š„this obviously will change OR erase canon Mockingjay.
Pairing: Everlark
Type: Fan Fiction or Fan Art.
Words: Over 1000 words (drabbles, one shots or short multi chapter are welcome, we would like to have submission completed although it isnāt mandatory)
THEME: MARRIED BEFORE/DURING/AFTER CATCHING FIRE š„
Deadline:
1. You can confirm your to participation until Dec 10th (in Tumblr, answering this post and tagging @publiusao3 ) and you will be granted access to the collection to submit your work.
2. You can submit your fics up to Dec 30th midnight (CET time!)
3. Collection will be live Jan 1st 2024 as anonymous
4. Writers will be revealed Jan 10th
@publiusao3 @thgfanficlibrary @thgfanfictionlibrary
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