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facefullofsadness · 3 months

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stripper!ningning in a private room

dom!ning x sub!reader

smut, 1.8k wc

I had a dream the other night that ning literally just flipped up her crop top and flashed the entire audience, nips out and everything (she didn't even have a bra under). as if it was a part of the show too? had the cameraman zooming in and her fucking hard nipples were on the big screen with the instrumental to a solo song of hers playing in the back. the wildest part was when she started PLAYING WITH THEM? she literally teased around the bud and pinched them, flicking them between her fingertips and throwing her head back. woke up SWEATING! it led me to THINKINGGGG and came up with stripper!ning.

your friends drag you to a strip club one night to distress since it had been a long busy week full of work and you don't really leave the house, so they urge you to go out, just this once! obliging because you might as well, I mean why tf not, wouldn't hurt to try right?

little did you know, your plan to just stand in the corner by the bar and drink by yourself was far from what your friends had already pre-meditated for you. having settled yourself at the bar with a drink in hand already, you feel the hot touch of a person's hand slipping from your shoulder to your lower back, making you turn your attention towards the source.

your eyes widen at the stunning woman in front of you, a gorgeous dark-haired cat-eyed lady in a long black coat covering her body stood next to you, a sly smirk on her lips. you gulp down the alcohol in your throat when she opens her mouth to speak.

"my, you really are so much more pretty up close..." she says, almost as if her thoughts slipped from her tongue, leaning in to observe your face further, touch lingering on your body.

you dart your eyes anywhere else to escape her intense gaze and she clears her throat before speaking again, "sorry, my manners slipped me. I'm ningning, would you like to come with me?"

you stare at the hand ningning held out for you, the internal dilemma going crazy in your head. you see your friends out the corner of your eye, cheering you on silently and urging you to say yes. looking up at the woman next to you, her expression is expectant and she bats her eyelashes, eyes full of wonder and allure.

you don't say anything and just take her hand, the beautiful woman smiling and dragging you past the poles of dancing women, her luscious dark hair flowing behind her, into a private and dimly lit room. she sits you down on the velvet sofa and runs her fingers through her hair, sighing.

you gather the courage to ask, "did my friends set this up?"

her teeth show slightly in the smile she gives you, giggling softly, "yes sweetie they did. but I didn't go so easy, I had to see how pretty you were up close if I really wanted to go through with it."

she sways her way up to you from across the room, hands laying on your shoulders and rubbing her thumbs under your jacket against your skin, "luckily for you, and especially for me, you're fucking hot."

she leans into your ear, lips and breath hot on your skin, "I'm supposed to give you a show, but I think I want so much more than just that, don't you?"

her words make you shiver, a chill trailing down your spine. she pulls away to push your shoulders back against the sofa, your back hitting the soft backrest, as ningning straddles your lap. you can feel her skin on yours under her long coat against your thighs, the material of her clothes hiking up your skirt.

she pulls the knot on her waist that's holding her coat together, taking it off and revealing her black lingerie set, sheer and honestly not doing much to leave thoughts to the imagination. she leans in over you and hovers your lips with hers, feeling her lips curl upright into a smile.

"don't be shy, I don't bite... too hard."

she grabs one of your hands and puts it on her exposed stomach, guiding it to feel her body up and down, the lace and skin on your fingertips. she puts your hand on her chest, making you trail your fingers on her hard nipple through the lace. you obey, using your thumb to roll the bud against her boob, feeling it harden in your hold.

her breath increases in volume, and you feel her panting against your lips. you continue further, pinching her nipple in your fingers, eliciting a deep moan from her throat. you bring your other hand up and repeat the same motions to her other boob, making ningning throw her head back, her long sweaty exposed neck on display. the sight made your cheeks start to turn red and you started to feel your body heat up.

"learning quickly, aren't you there? god you're so pretty under me, can't wait to feel more of you."

and she sure did feel more of you.

you laid back against the sofa, ningning kneeling with her pussy in your mouth, one hand in your hair, twirling her fingers with your strands and pulling you in, tongue spelling your name across her sweet tasting cunt, her other hand pinching at her nipples, moans filling the room. she had secured your wrists to poles on either side of you, same as your ankles, your body completely sprawled out and barely clothed, ready to take anything she so wanted to do to you. and at this moment, she wanted to see how much of a good girl you'd really be for her.

chanting pet names and words of praise for how well you ate her out, her sweet and sultry raspy voice releasing pleasurable groans. her hips grinding rhythmically against your mouth, the hold on your head tightening and pulling you impossibly closer, making it difficult to breathe. you look up at her figure, the sight making your hole clench and clit throb with how fucking sexy the girl on top of you looked, mouth hanging open, moans slipping from her lips, eyes rolled back, head swinging side to side, a thin sheet of sweat forming all over her milky skin, her fingers pinching at the nipples poking through her lingerie. you could cum from just watching her get off on you.

"such a fucking good girl, baby. wanna make mommy cum? go on, drink it all and clean me up."

her pace became unfathomably swift, chasing her orgasm on your hard working tongue. she came, creaming all over your mouth, well mostly, some of it spreading to your face. ningning yelled out profanities as you pushed her over the edge, her eyes trained on you and how well you sucked her dry (she wanted to cum again just by how good you looked). her honey-like voice filled your ears when you heard her giggle, opening your eyes to look up at her, an amused and prideful look on her face as she pet your head and threaded her fingers through your hair. once you licked her clean, she hovered her body over yours and traced her thumb over your cum-stained lips, sucking on her finger when she collected all the spit and liquid.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, your body is going to be completely incapacitated and you'll never want anyone else to fuck you other than me. do you want that? does my good and precious baby girl want mommy to break her? fuck her brains out until she can't think anymore?"

you moan at her words and pull at your restraints at the mere thought of her making you cum.

"go on sweetie, beg me. beg mommy to fuck you dumb."

oh your friends were so gonna make fun of you for this later.

"please mommy, I've been such a good girl for you, please fuck me stupid, fuck me until I can't take it anymore. even if I can't take it anymore! fuck me until I cry, until I'm sobbing, until I'm screaming for you to stop!"

so of course, she does, how could she say no to such a pretty girl begging for her? eating you out until you're squirting on her tongue and making a mess of her beautiful face, staining her pretty lingerie. fingering your pussy until her thrusts burn, your walls sore, clenching over her skillful digits, clit overstimulated to hell. fucking you with a strap until you're screaming bloody murder, throat aching in pain from the yells and also her fingers deepthroating and gagging you, clit rubbing against ningning's, making both of you tear up with incomprehensible pleasure, your body jerking with every pinch of her fingers on your nipples or suck and lick of her tongue on them, squirting so hard every time on her cum-shooting strap, filling you up with her cream. oh how I want ning yizhuo to fuck me like this so bad.

she finally stops after what feels like hours of constant mind-numbing sex, your hole leaking cum. you hear her mumble something like "fuck it's already been 2 hours? I need to get you out of here." how considerate. her taking such good care of you, massaging your wrists and ankles from the red marks that had formed from the cuffs she restrained you with, kissing over all the scratches and redness she induced on your body, cleaning all the cum and tears across your face and skin, getting you water and making sure you were okay.

"need anything else angel? was I too intense for you?" she'd softly ask, voice so sweet and gentle, caressing your cheek and playing with your hair, massaging your head too while you drank water.

"mm-mm," you'd hum, shaking your head no ever so slightly, your entire body sore. hell, you literally could only hum a response because your throat was spent.

she leaned in close to your face, her lips right up against yours, just barely touching, "it's against policy to do anything I did today, so I'll break just one more rule."

ningning kisses you. not intensely, not rough, just her soft and plump cum and cherry flavored lips moving slowly but passionately against yours, an incredibly drastic contrast from just moments before. and yet, this was the most breathless you were the entire night. pulling away after a while and gasping for air like you forgot how to breathe entirely, staring down at her lips shining with saliva, a grin settling calmly on her face.

she lifts your gaze with her finger under your chin and pecks you again before she interlaces her free hand with one of yours, "don't be a stranger okay? what's your name?"

suddenly gaining confidence, you kiss her again, taking her bottom lip between your teeth and swiping your tongue against it, a whine leaving her throat. you pull away and smirk, replying with a hoarse but brave voice, "take me out on a date first ningning, then maybe I'll reward you."

her chuckle resonates and she stands, pulling you up with her, dragging you towards the locked door (holding you up because your legs are absolute jelly), "I'll take you up on that challenge, pretty girl."

what a fucking night.

a/n - I WANT TO FUCK NING YIZHUO SO BAD OH MY GOD YALL DONT UNDERSTAND HOW BADLY I NEED HER

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waynewifey · 10 months

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aftermath — b.w

part one - ‘dear mr. wayne’

part two - ‘aftermath’

part three. - ‘aporia’

summary: you escaped that warehouse, but part of you died in there. now, your husband helps you grief your own loss while trying to not murder your relationship.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: drama & angst romance

warnings: mentions of sex and alcohol; mentions of ptsd, anxiety and it’s symptoms; hospital setting; dubious science; dubious law enforcement

word count: 2.9k

A/N: thank you for all the positive feedback on part 1! there will be a part three because this post would get too long, so let me know if you’ll like to be tagged in that. my biggest challenge writing this was trying to give bruce the start of a redemption arc, please tell me if you think it worked. comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!

gotham, USA.

the continuous beeping sound wakes you up.

your eyes are still closed, blocking the intense light over your head. your senses are taken by the familiar scent: sandalwood, cinnamon and lemongrass soap. it almost feels like you're home.

but your feet are senseless from the cold and the bedsheets faintly smell like chlorine. there's a pinching ache in your arm and the scenario is complete. oh how you hate hospitals.

"how are you feeling?" back at home, bruce had learned the difference in your breathing as you woke up, which made pretending to sleep hard enough for you to give up. you open your eyes, finding yourself in a luxurious room. if it wasn't for the IV on your left side, it could easily be mistaken for a five star hotel.

bruce sat at a large light green armchair, about four feet from your left hand. you couldn't tell by his voice, but he looked exhausted. for once, he's wearing sweatpants. the puffy face and swollen eyes show he hasn't had much sleep. you, on the other hand, feel like you've slept for a thousand years.

"i have no idea. what's up with me?" his sigh has your heart racing and the fear of being a liability falls over you. a comforting hand lays on yours, his warms fingers grounding you to remember the last time you were awake. it felt like a nightmare and you desperately hoped it was. instead, the pain comes in flashes, the image of your husband being shot and the feeling of hitting ice cold water do too. it's all just so horrible you wish it wasn't real.

"they told me you were going to be fine, but i don't know." bruce feels as if a burden has come off his chest finally seeing you move. the last couple of days have been a torture of expectation and blame for him. "the doctor had you in an induced coma. you had a concussion on the river. your stomach was stitched up. he said..." he stops for a moment, this is obviously way too hard for him to go through again. bruce hasn't left the room ever since he was discharged. everyday, for two weeks, he kept overthinking the night before and the day during. if he had stayed up and talked about your relationship, you wouldn't be in that bed. if he looked for you in the morning, if he noticed your absence at work, if he hadn't put his phone on silent mode... there were a million of things that he could've done different so the most important person in his world wouldn't have gone through all of that. "he said the ptsd would worsen your recovery. this morning the nurses told me you were better, so i have to believe them. that's my only hope."

you need a moment to take in the words, finally deciding that you didn't want to discuss your health. there were way better people to pay attention to that in the building and it would only make you anxious. you can't help but stare at his eyes, your mind bringing up the image of your husband choking the man that kept you hostage.

"you almost killed him." the tone is of disapproval, bruce couldn't be any more confused. he frowns. bile arises from his stomach leaving a acid taste to his mouth.

"i would've, of course i would. y/n, you had no idea what i would do for you. i would fight the devil himself if it meant keeping you safe. that's why i do what i do. the batman, the politics, it's all for you. if i can make this world 1% better for you, for our children, to live on, it's worth it." his gulp is loud, adam's apple going up and down, showing how dry his throat was. the following words have his voice shaking, almost disappearing. "but fate keeps telling me that i'm not enough. no matter what i do, you keep getting hurt and i just-" bruce stares the floor. that's something he always did when saying harsh things, avoiding eye contact and not letting tears slip away. however, this time it doesn't work at all. he can hear his heart tearing up with every syllable, the physical pain striking his chest. he wants to beg you to forgive him, but there is a noble thing to do. his words are cut off by the creaking of the door and the doctor's footsteps. he's smiling, like this isn't hell. bruce shrinks into the couch, making himself ignorable.

"so... i have good news!" the blonde says, clipboard in hand. "we need to run some other tests and an x-ray, but you seem to be healing pretty well. we'll hold you in for a couple of days just to make sure there aren't any complications with your body and then you can go home. how are you feeling so far?"

you're surprised by the sudden change in the conversation and your brain needs a moment to think about something helpful. you do a body scan trying to identify any pain, but overall you feel good.

"hungry. like, starving." the doctor smiles, saying he'll get you a meal as soon as possible. he warns you that you may not be able to eat much just yet, something about your stomach shrinking. you nod, already feeling irritated by the recovery process. then he leaves and there's a loud silence until you get back on the previous topic.

"you just what?" you expect bruce to sit correctly again, but he doesn't. he looks so small in the shadows, so comfortable. you really don't want to talk about that anymore, but curiosity takes over. he doesn't respond immediately, so your heart pounds over the anxiety of hearing bad news. suddenly you feel so tired, you want him to take over all the decisions like he usually does. today, though, he seems open to suggestions, like his own ideas weren't suitable. how could you know someone so well but still have no idea what's on his mind?

"i think maybe you shouldn't be associated with me. any part of me." the world stops with your breathing. bruce wishes he could take it back. going over this conversation in his head made it seem easier to say out loud. you've been married for three years. you knew his ambitions for even longer. you chose this life and he has no right to take that from you. still, the ring on your finger weighs you down.

— DENIAL

you've learned to appreciate the winter winds. at the top of the wayne tower there were barely any, but tonight they caress your face with the gift of numbness. breathing in is both refreshing and painful. the scratched teacup warms your fingers, a small memoir from your childhood home, from times that won't ever come back. you used to be down there, frightened by dark alleys and gunshots. now you're on top of the world and nothing, not even that psychopath, can take that from you. you did relearn discomfort. ache. cold. it all made you appreciate life even more. in fact, the month that followed your hospital discharge was pure bliss. something about renewal, about rebirth.

bruce watched you from the living room, the wrinkled glass distorting your silhouette in the balcony. that was a good representation of how he currently saw you, slightly blurred and shaken. his cup would usually hold whiskey, neat, but it holds coffee instead. you keep saying you're fine and waking up screaming in the middle of the night. then he would hold you and you would be actually fine. so now he's staying awake through the night, sleeping three or four hours during the day while alfred takes care of you. of course they don't let you know, because you've denied every explicit help. as you get ready to sleep, bruce gets ready to stay in bed through the night, alone with his thoughts. part of him was scared to sleep. he was sleeping when you were taken, there's no way he would let that happen again.

it has been almost a year since he stopped patrolling the city. the news cover murders and robberies every day. alfred makes sure to come up with something for both bruce and you to do at those hours. he's taken a pause in promoting his candidacy, he couldn't handle the public eye for now. still, the marketing team insists that your kidnapping was good media, even though he never officially spoke on it. they publish notes about being away, about taking care of family. he can't see how that could be good in any way.

you open the glass doors, flashing your husband a sweet smile. you're in a red silk robe and your hair is still perfectly done. perfectionism was one of the side effects, as one may call it, of the trauma. you visited a psychiatrist about a month ago, since bruce insisted on it, and he marked all of the habits that made you happy as unhealthy. you never told bruce what was said in that appointment in hopes that he'll get over it. him treating you like a porcelain doll made you nauseous.

"ready for bed?" you ask, standing behind the couch and hugging his shoulders. you breathe in his scent, remembering the day you met. you were an executive in an overseas wayne enterprises headquarters that had just gotten transferred to gotham. they offered you six figures to take the second in command position, so you obviously got to know the first in command. in the beginning, you honestly thought he was an entitled brat that didn't work at all. overtime, you realised how much he cared about the company and how much he was pining over you. you gave him an opening and he asked you out. six months into the relationship, he told you about batman. he knew, somehow, that you would be forever.

he sets in bed while you're touching up in the bathroom. the night had to be perfect. you've hadn't made love ever since the fight and ovulation week had gotten you a little crazy. you check yourself in the mirror, thanking the hormones making you sexy. you crawl into his side, slower than needed, hair falling over the shoulder. "hi" you whisper, sitting diagonally from him and cuddling a bit. he says hi back, with a chuckle. you give him a little peck, which is all you've been doing for all of this time. he stays still, not pulling back but also not doing anything either. you try to take it as a good sign. your lips then reach his jawline and neck, leaving wet kisses all over his skin. your hands touch his shirt and go underneath it, tracing your fingers along his defined abdomen. a hand holds your arm, pushing you away. your smile fades and you frown your face to him.

"touch me, bruce" you not so much ask, it's more like a plead. he sighs, channelling all his will to stick with his decision. he puts a string of your hair behind your ear and you think he's going to properly kiss you.

"i don't think we should do this. you're not well enough yet." he doesn't sound so certain, but it hits you like a hard brick wall. this is harder for him than he lets it show, he's a man after all. even so, he can't see you like that for the moment. he sees you scattered and feels like it's his responsibility to assemble you again.

"i'm perfectly fine." you state like a grumpy proud child who's just lost a soccer tournament. he sees right through it.

"you're not, you're in denial." that simple word makes your mood swing: denial. it's the same thing the stupid psychiatrist told you. you can even hear his smoker's voice echoing in the office. it isn't true. you got over it, that's all. maybe some people take more time to do so, but you did just like that. you had a life to get back to.

you get off the bed and pull your robe tight again. "i'm sleeping in the guest room. good night." he doesn't follow and lets you be. in all honesty, he didn't know if he would have the strength to turn you down a second time.

bruce tries to fight the tiredness. even with caffeine running high in his blood system, he falls asleep for a while. the guest room is far enough that he doesn't hear the muffled sobbing. he wakes up not so long after with screaming. his heart races as he runs down the stairs, following the sound of your voice. his mind starts thinking the worst, but he finds you only having nightmares. he crawls in bed with you, without being kicked off. he lets you lay on his chest, one arm over your shoulder. his body warms yours up and you finally stop spasming. it doesn't take too long for both to fall asleep.

— ANGER

the penthouse is quiet. the winter is almost at it's end, so the pre-spring rays lighten the living room bringing warmness to your solitude. you sit uncomfortably, unknown to this feeling of absence. you don't feel him in the tower.

bruce said there was a non deniable meeting with his press team, because eventually he would have to go back to promoting his election, which would take place in the fall. you acted unbothered. yet, he's barely been gone for an hour and you can already feel the anxiety crippling. you only left the apartment for doctors appointment, still too scared to walk on the streets. and he was always there, too, holding your hand. so this is different.

alfred is downstairs upgrading the batman suit with a new technology he created. he invited you, but the darkness of the cave was definitely unrequited. that's how you end up lounging, in silence, staring at window. finally, you decide to try to watch something. you shouldn't really do that, because something could trigger a panic attack. but you're fine, you really are. enough with this nonsense.

shuffling through the channels, nothing gets your attention until there's a juridical show on. the judge is talking to the prosecutor, apparently, announcing the next witness to testify. the camera angle changes to the courtroom and expectant eyes turn to the wooden door. it opens slowly to reveal a knight in dark armour. you hold your breath. the jury buzzes and the room gets loud. heavy steps make his cape swing behind him, as he makes his way to the stand.

bruce had to make a tough decision. while you and him had been cleared from the trial, you with the psychiatrist report on PTSD and him with the marriage, the lawyers mentioned that the batman's testimony could be decisive for the accused to be found guilty by the jury. the public respected him. either they loved or feared him. so, even though he's never made such a public appearance, less even speaking, he had to go to that trial. he owed it to you. but you could never know. he didn't want to spark your interest in the case, you shouldn't have to go through it again. he lays his hand on the constitution and swears on it.

it doesn't feel real until you hear the judge.

"members of the jury, i present to you the batman."

it feels like a dagger has gone through your chest. there's a mix of feelings that have you almost throwing up. you feel like screaming and crying and blowing the fucking world up. how could he do that to you? that was your case, your life. you stand up only to find your legs trembling. you want to run there and testify. you want to tell the world the horrors you've been through and show them, including your husband, that you had overcome it. he was calling you weak right in you face and you couldn't bear the feeling of being chained up again. you're stuck in this hell of a tower like some futile damsel.

you stomp your way to the elevator, your mind set on leaving the building. but your heart stops you in your tracks pounding and almost vomiting itself out; you feel your toes numb and your legs can't stop shaking. the baritone voice still sounds in the apartment. you run to it and scream at the TV. you throw a pillow on it. that doesn't cool you down. your body is in motion while all you can see is red. you knock the coffee table down, shattering the glass and scattering like ashes the books that were on it on the floor. the noise still doesn't muffle his voice and you can't find the fucking remote control. you stumble across the room, throwing lamps and vases around. everything is falling down, in every sense. you grab a candle and let out a scream when you hit the TV with it, the screen going black and the noise finally ceasing.

alfred finds the room trashed, with you kneeling on the broken glass. there's blood on the floor. your body trembles with every sob. he cautiously steps towards you. you feel out of breath, tears burning your eyes. he holds you like a mother does.

"i'm sorry- i'm so sorry," he shakes his head, saying it doesn't matter. you wanna say it does, but there's simply nothing leaving your mouth apart from "i'm so sorry"

part three - aporia

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undercoverpena · 1 year

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v. a new day

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter five of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. smut. oral sex (man receiving), angst. bit of emotions are coming outttttt. Wordcount: 6.3k AN: apologies for the lateness, my personal life has just been throwing things at me and I didn't want the emotions to bleed in when i was editing. also, if there's errors, i'm so sorry, i have had no sleep. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who allows me to ramble continuously and to @guyfieriii who is on her way to get me a magazine and send it to me. I adore you both.

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“I can’t believe you caught him?”

“Me neither.”

You lean back, eyes wide, twisting the cord around your finger.

“I did call you—last night. After we’d seen him. Rang your place, work...”

Swallowing, you smile. “I, um—“

Looking up as Peña steps out of his office, sliding his tie through the loop, eyes staring over you. Drinking you in. Making every part of you burn up under his gaze.

“—had a date.”

“Oh. How did it go?”

Biting your lip, you watch him. How his brows furrowed, letting your eyes descend down before noticing his tie. How it sat off-centre—all threaded in a rush.

You suspect he’s been ordered to attend a meeting. One likely about the day's events, one with a lot of Colombians, officials and higher-ups. So, you gesture.

The corners of your lips slightly rise, watching his smile slowly grow.

“It was good. Nice.”

Van Ness snorts. “You going to see them aga—actually, fuck this, I don’t think I wanna hear anymore.”

“Wasn’t about to tell you, Van Ness. Hey—I have to go, please be safe.”

“Always am.”

“Says the man catching Narcos—anyway, Stoddard is here, speak soon.”

“He best not be making you drinks…”

“Promise he isn’t.”

You place the phone down, standing up as Peña comes to a halt barely an inch away from you.

“That my name now? Stoddard.”

“Well, you’re struggling to sort your own tie, does seem a Stoddard thing to do, sir.”

He twitches his fingers at his side. Has been doing so since he guided Gilberto out to the flashing lights and clicks of cameras.

The significance of what they’d done—what he had done—crashed into him. Not knocking him off his feet, not even knocking him off his axis. But it kickstarted something.

It truthfully only slid over him when he slid into the seat of a car.

They’d done it. Proved that surrender wasn’t the only option—that they could be caught. Because they had caught one of them. The ones they all said were untouchable. Right in his fucking home, hiding away.

A new lease of life spreads as Javi swallows. A thrum of energy, one which has been missing since before he was sent back to the States, rippling through him as though it had never gone. Disturbing the regret he’d been feeling since…

They’d done it. The thought rolls around, his finger occasionally stroking his bottom lip—sometimes pinching his thigh as the streets flash past the window. Doing so even as his knee hits the door, needing to, just to be certain he’s awake, and not dreaming.

The truth it’s all a reality weaves into his muscles, the adrenaline bursting into his bloodstream—beautifully blending with the newly rejuvenated oxygenated cells that swim to his heart.

He knows there's a shitstorm waiting for him at the embassy. For what he’d done—but, then, they hadn’t really wanted him here for the accolades.

Stechner hadn’t vouched for him because he’d been a rule-follower. More someone to blame, to use.

And now, he’d shown them the sheer proof that it could be done—the surrender could be nil and void. They could get more.

That’s what he’d thought as he had hammered his knuckles into Martinez’s door, pulling on a string marked ‘do not touch’. Hoping he’d be forthcoming—that he’d trust him to work alongside him.

Javi hadn’t been sure if a speech on how much he wanted to do right would make up for what had already transpired. Less excuses spoken, and more acknowledged errors that he’d been determined—foolishly so. Blinded and only seeing through tunnel vision. Focused on the wrong thing; determined, but for what? None of it became clear even when he’d sat in his childhood home—or stood out in the field. The more he looked for answers, the less weight his reasonings had—the fewer excuses he could grasp at why he’d let things poison and ruin.

In the end, he was grateful he hadn’t needed to spout any of that. The sheer opportunity that Javi had brought it to him, had been enough.

Not sure any of his truthful ramblings would have made sense, anyway.

It was a true second chance. A hope which had been living in some recess, brushed off and placed front and centre at his feet. His hand outstretched, watching as Martinez shook his—a truce, of some sort, a promise. Maybe, in the smallest way, an element of forgiveness—not that Javi would allow it. It didn’t mean he’d squander or wreck it either, using it to stand a little taller and ensure his shoulders were a little more square.

It’s why he takes a moment when the car pulls up outside the building. Sitting, spreading his palms in long strokes over his thighs. Catching his breath.

He can already feel how things have changed. Already knows there will be faces turning when he steps inside, the burden of it meeting his shoulders again. Having temporarily moved it, placed it on the floor while he focused on what needed to be done. Now, the music was playing, and the true heaviness of what a second chance meant began to rest on his bones. The true power of doing good didn't just provide accolades, but gifted in moon-eyed agents and hopefulness he felt guilty squashing.

It begins when he steps down the embassy stairs, bodies stopping, turning. His cheeks warming, ears burning as they murmur and mutter. Focusing on it, while another part blindly wants to ignore it as he enters the office. It’s why the first clap doesn’t register.

It takes a moment, the applause slowly raining around him, covering him. Layering in thick noise that soaks into his skin and makes him feel cold, rather than joyous.

The worst thing is, deep down, he knows there’s an old version of him who would have smirked at all of this. Who’d have relished in it. Likely lifted his chin, and shook each hand—man or woman—rather than sinking his chin to his chest like he’s currently doing. Trying to shy from it, get through them all as they begin to move closer, ready to congratulate him—shake his hand.

A part of him knows he should be glad. Should be proud he has somewhat earned the notoriety he walks around with now. A slither of it, anyway.

Finding Stoddard’s hand, he’s the only one he shakes. Not sure what to do with the rest of his body as he lets his eyes move across the room, seeing the closing circle of those wanting to thank him, celebrate and pat him on the back. But, his eyes land only on the pair which pulls him to shore.

Yours.

The one person not clapping—leaning against your desk, head tilted to the side, doing your trademark smirk. The one Javi likes to think is just for him because he pulls it from you so frequently. The one which hits your eyes and shines like the sun on a cloudless day and warms him, even if he keeps trying not to let it.

His heart sinks, just a touch. It’s still floating on the surface of the day and is the only explanation for why it doesn’t fall to his feet. Because as he lets his eyes fall over you he realises it’s the first opportunity he’s had to think of you. To allow himself to think of you.

How he hadn’t had a chance to make sure you got home okay. The last sight of you had been in his office, lips swollen, eyes shimmering with post-lust bliss and your clothes a little off-pristine. Your hand on his wrist, sliding circles into his pulse—all thought-out and considered. You’re gonna get him, Javi. Your teeth chewed the skin of your lip as the words washed over him, a nervousness to you he rarely ever noticed—a slight discomfort in your forced expression.

But he hadn’t asked.

Swallowing, he releases the hand in his.

“–Where you going? C’mon, we want to toast you…”

Hearing Stoddard, but watching you. “Start without me.”

He never questioned the tight expression when you released his wrist, his hand grabbing at things from his desk—all set to walk out, to leave. Be safe, Javi.

It echoes through his ears as he crosses the room, watching as you take a deep breath as the gap between the two of you closes.

Javi could let himself feel it now—the spark and the concern. Could question it—let it fill him. He could find the words to ask why Cali undoes a part of you, why you always place one particular type of mask up when it's mentioned—when someone goes. Unpicking it all, seeing it all as though someone was showing it to him all on video.

Having been so laser-focused before, he’d missed it. Placed them all to the side, noticing the other things—the ones inflicted by others' words and actions, and not the looming one hovering over you as you worked.

Something had happened to you in Cali. Something that was left from the reports.

He tucks you away, hides you—keeps you purely for the times he can spare a second to truly think and consider you. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet—in the calm. A welcomed retreat, a safe haven. A person who populates a carved space in his mind, one you had barely needed to hack at to make. Because, in truth, he made it for you, found a place that he could store you in for when he felt safe enough to let you out, and he wasn’t sure what that meant.

Now just watching in slow motion as you try to hide what he assumes is relief.

It’s a gift, how you keep people out. One he would admire if he wasn’t on the other side of it and wasn’t able to recognise how quickly and smoothly you were able to slide up the veil which isn’t breachable. While he doesn’t know what monsters live in your wardrobe or which ghosts haunt you, he knows there’s a reason why you can’t tell him too.

A reason why you talk in riddles whenever bureaucracy is mentioned.

A discomfort which ebbs and flows, but never truly meets the two of you, even if it tries to. It did so before he fucked you on his desk. A look so similar to the one you gave him in his office, all soft eyes he wasn’t sure if he could ever earn deserving.

He knows people consider you to be a storm. A restless bundle of anger and lightning—thunder rumbling with every step of your heel.

But, as he comes to a stop in front of you, Javi realises he hadn't seen you like that, not since the first day when you'd tried to convince him you were. Not even as you slide around your desk, using the wooden furniture as a barrier between the two of you.

Ironic, really. When the two of you used one similar as a surface for relief, hours and hours ago.

Javi thinks you’re something more akin to a rain cloud—all set to burst and let whatever it is you hold close fall like raindrops. Maybe they’d be acidic, maybe they’d burn those unfortunate to be underneath, but he’d only care for the relief on your face.

The one he’s sure is hiding behind the smile he’s being presented with.

“Congratulations, sir.”

He slides his shades from his shirt, nodding at you. Thanking you.

Continuing, you clear your throat, “I think the Ambassador would like to see you.”

You let your words wash over him, before dropping your hand close to your mug, slowly pushing it toward him. A gesture, a bold one in a sea of eyes.

Voice dropping, you flick your eyes up to his, “You can have one sip.”

“And, if I take one more, cariño?”

Your lips scrunch, a real smile—all teeth and lines in your cheek—so desperate to break out. “You wouldn’t want to know, sir.”

Each time he swallows, he tastes your coffee.

Desperate to find a mug, to enjoy one more sip in some silence—even light up a cigarette, if he could be spared. But, it’s one thing, then another. Almost feeling the flutter of anxiety and adrenaline merging into something unheard of.

From the meeting to the note in his file, right to the press conference he had needed to lead.

As soon as it ended, he was led to the staircase—practically shoved off. His feet all heavy, legs like lead as he steps down, ready to hide in his office and release many heavy, simmering breaths.

That had been his plan. His only focus—until he finds you waiting.

Then he thinks of the file room, his place, his desk…

It knots all inside of him—that thrum of disbelief that blends so disastrously with the sudden acknowledgement he doesn’t deserve you. Something he thinks a lot, yet is finding it harder to fight off under tiredness and waning adrenaline.

It isn’t just whatever it is between you—the fun, non-committal thing neither of you are likely to acknowledge—but your mere attendance in his life.

The way you make things brighter, shine something that makes the edges a bit more colourful and meaningful. Not quite ready to allow it closer to the centre, to let it touch the parts of him still tainted in darkness and regret. He doesn’t think even your shine can do that alone.

Wiping a hand over his face, he moves towards you. Absently wondering when you’ve snuck in, having not seen you arrive or between his meeting finishing and arriving here. He’d looked for you, met Stoddard’s eyes and nodded for him to come.

Yet, here you are, shaking someone’s hand as Javi moves past another person, noticing that you’ve removed your jacket, so that he can see the outlines of your bra straps through the back of your blouse. He spots the clipboard pressed to your chest, hand wrapped around another mug—one he soon realises is the one you always give him.

It diminishes, the part of him which wants to protect you from him. From the disappointment he tends to bring and the fact he’s so thoughtless. That even under your occasional frostiness and many secrets, you’re kind… sweet.

It’s why he should blink, and turn away—not that he can tear his eyes away enough to solidify his thought of walking away. Your presence practically demands his attention, even if you’re talking to someone else. Your leg crossed in front of the other, a white pen tucked away behind your ear and hearing, as he moves closer, the Spanish flowing from your tongue. It’s crisp, and clear—rolling beautifully to his ear as the conversation nears an end. The man’s hand in yours, another placed on your arm—squeezing—bidding you farewell.

Something unfurls, and stretches its legs inside of him. Only settling when the man’s hand leaves your arm, leaves the close proximity and is walking away.

“You making friends?”

Shrugging, you smirk. “Apparently so. You looked good by the way.”

“I did?”

Nodding, you hand him the mug. “Yeah. Like you were supposed to be up there. You know, before you get into your head, it should have been someone else.”

He nods, taking a sip, wincing at the strong taste of alcohol—frowning at you as you smile wistfully.

“Thought you could do with something stronger. Also, you doing the conference is smart, I like it—takes the heat off Chris and Dan.”

He nods again, taking another sip. More prepared this time to coat his throat in amber, staring, wondering how you managed to sneak a mug of bourbon to him. Not that he should be surprised. You seemed to manage to do a lot, keep things turning, keep things organised.

“So, sir. How do you plan on celebrating?”

He takes a long drag, raising his brows that hopefully says, I think you already know, and from the smirk, you shoot him back, you do. The two of you fall into a walk, one where your strides match, where your eyes can be on the other but not walk into a thing or soul. Not speaking, not for a minute, your eyes taking him in—raking over him, assessing him for something (or nothing) he can’t be sure.

“Are you waiting for an invite for that or…”

Shrugging, he watches you take the mug back as he narrows his eyes. “Never been one to wait to be asked to be somewhere, cariño.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” you comment, sliding closer as you press the button for the elevator. “So, what? You want to take me home and fuck the day away?”

He looks at you, flicking from your eyes to your lips. Watching as you swipe the tip of your tongue against your lower lip. Your body heat is almost smothering his skin—even through his shirt and jacket. “If I ever say no to doing that, cariño. I’ve got brain damage.”

Smirking, you nudge him, the ding of the elevator's arrival making you step back. “If we have a choice, I choose yours. It's fancier.”

“I don't know, I bet you have candles and decorative pillows.”

“That what makes a place fancy in your eyes? The amount of candles someone has.”

“I have no candles.”

Snorting, you shake your head as he presses the button for your floor.

As the doors close, he glances at you, how your expression is fixed on the metal doors.

“I’m glad you came back, Peña.”

He hears it, and conjures another set of words. Ones he heard, ones he had been meaning to acknowledge—until the phone rang. Until life hurtled a thousand things, and then he was flying to Cali.

Javi… I was worried. I was worried about you.

You turn your head, flicking your eyes over him. “Another night, I’d show you how unfancy my place is. Tonight, though…”

He knows. Knew even before the teasing had begun about his place or yours. His thumb strokes over his middle and index finger as he chews his cheek.

“Plus, someone must have come in and knocked all your files on the floor,” you say, a lightness to your tone, “Left your office in a right mess.”

The doors pinged open, only able to watch as you step out—not waiting for him, just leaving him behind, chewing his smirk.

The moment Martinez left his office, he just remained sat on the edge of his desk.

It had taken longer than it should to sink in. The power people had, the corruption, how it bled and rotted in every corner of the place. The enormity of it all, how without his sacrifice and him handing his notice in, it would have all been undone.

Martinez was the good one. The one who hadn't toed the line, hadn't stepped into the grey, hadn't even been selfish. Not like him.

He drained the glass, finished his cigarette—staring at a patch on the floor until his fingers wrapped around the edge, feeling marks along the wood. For a solid minute, he traces them, feels the lines, the deepness to them, until his mind wonders if they’re from you.

No, Javi. Just you. Only you.

It’s instant, the way he darts to his bottom drawer, rummaging through until he retrieves the file—the one marked with your name. The one he’d sourced before, now paying attention to the parts he had ignored then.

From the look on your face, you’re as surprised to see him, as he is that he knocked. A wine glass in hand, the red of it sloshing from side to side as he observes you process his arrival. That he even got out of the car.

“You… know where I live?”

He drops his hand from leaning on the door frame, wiping his mouth. “I know where you live.”

Opening the door, you step aside—hands tugging at your cardigan to wrap it around yourself. “Some could call that stalking, sir.”

“Y’gotta stop with the sirs.”

“Do I?”

You smirk—it spreads up your cheeks until it hits your eyes, before your hand pushes the door closed behind him, keeping your eyes on him.

All he can think is how pretty you are. How beautiful you look, even if you’re all undone—nothing on your face, a baggy t-shirt and some shorts, the thickest socks on your feet.

“Drinking alone, cariño?”

It’s slow, how you lean against the door. Not letting the two of them head further into your place. “Some days justify it. Don’t you think?”

He does.

More than he wants to say—not wanting to spoil your evening. Taint your home with talks of work and bureaucracy. Things he suspects you know more than you’re likely to share. The thick lines through your file are all an indication of it.

You take a sip, and then another.

Adding nothing, just letting him stand there, and he half wonders if you expect him to plead his case here—or whether you’re assessing whether to eject him out of your place as quickly as you left his prior.

Mainly, he focuses on the fact it smells like you. Floral with a hint of darkness—your decor not all that different from his, just with additional touches. Some candles, some colour—some attempt at making the place feel like a home and not somewhere to rest your head.

It’s only in the growing silence does he hear the faint sound of music, something low, involving a guitar thrumming in the background.

“Are you lonely, Agent Peña?”

He places his hand in his pocket, leaning against the wall opposite you.

“No.”

You nod, rolling your lips. “Just in the neighbourhood then?”

He wipes his mouth as his other hand rubs his palm against his index finger in his pocket. Suddenly unsure why he was here—why he’d found your address and come.

Javi wasn’t lonely. Didn’t have the time to be. A sea of paperwork on his desk, the guilt weighing down on him, hearing the colonel's voice over and over—the once pleasant taste of liquor now turning bitter in the back of his throat.

“You forget I know where you live, so I know you’ve come out of your way.”

A laugh escapes and falls from his lips as he dips his head.

It all of a sudden catches up with him, how the day has been a range of emotions. The delicate way things had needed to happen, the thrum of adrenaline—the joy, the meeting, the conference…

Lifting his chin, he finds you still watching him.

No smirk. No smile. All soft edges and a comforting presence—waiting. For what, he can’t be sure, but he kicks off the wall all the same. Sliding his hand from his pocket, softly wrapping it around your hip as he places his forehead against yours, walking you backwards, taking the glass from your hand and placing it down.

He tells himself he needs a moment. A stolen one that doesn’t bleed and change into others. A break in from everything, for a second.

It only shifts when he wraps each finger on your hip, pulling you close. He keeps your shoulder blades against the wall, the guitar strumming increasing as much as his heart is beating. It’s all rhythmic, a remix of a song he isn’t sure of—but one he is tuned into all the same.

It takes his breath away how you look at him. How it’s harder to stop himself from falling into them, worsening as your hand cups his elbow. At first, it’s all shared breath and waiting. Neither moving, his forehead just remaining against yours.

“Are you okay?”

It’s so soft. Barely audible if his body wasn’t pressed against you, as he shakes his head, feeling your fingers slowly sliding in gentle circles around his elbow. Cupping him, keeping him as close as his hands keep you.

“What do you need?”

He says nothing. Afraid that saying ‘you’ is too much. Having hoped the action would speak louder than the words as he stares into you—mixing brown with yours to make a colour artists dream of.

“Hey,” you say again. More demanding, assertive. “Javi, what do you need?”

He doesn’t think, doesn’t attempt to. Embodies the former version of him—the one which had gone to the Colonel’s home, to begin with—the one who takes and takes and takes.

“You drunk, baby?”

He hears you swallow, before slowly shaking your head.

“Good,” he whispers.

Closing his eyes, he lifts his forehead before dipping his head, his mouth captures yours. Javi merges the taste of sweet wine, whiskey and his cigarettes together, creating a taste so intoxicating and delicious he’s not sure he ever wants to come up for air.

Just need you, he thinks as his tongue slips past your parted lips.

Only want you, he urges as he feels your other hand sliding around his neck, deepening the kiss, his tongue able to taste that small whimper you do when he squeezes your hip.

It’s different—but then each time he kisses you is. It has been needy, and passionate. Another, it has been soft, almost meaningful. Now, this time, he’s able to feel how warmth consumes him as you kiss him more purposefully. He deepens it in search of more, kissing you more hungrily, full of need and want.

It’s only when he feels your hand skate over the back of his neck, fingers teasing the bottom of his hair, does he slow. In time, pulling back, pressing his forehead against yours—bruising your hip with his fingers as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Whatever it is…”

“We can’t fix it, cariño.”

It’s cold—the way he says it. Wishing he could retract it the moment he sees your brows scrunch. Instead, he shows no sign of letting up his grip on you. Hoping it’s enough to wordlessly explain that he needs you close, wants you—in fact. Needed to just be around you. Even if he shouldn’t, couldn’t…

He presses two fingers to the side of your cheek, curling them. Your mouth parts, words—likely reassuring ones, knowing what he knows about you—are all desperate to fall and heal over the cracks. But, he shakes his head, watching your lips close as quickly as they had opened, your fingers continuing to draw shapes at the base of his hairline, studying him—searching his eyes.

Then, like a light in a dark room, understanding spreads across your gaze. Illuminating everything, likely connecting the dots in that beautiful—but deeply fascinating—way you do.

“Martinez…”

“Cariño… not, not right now.”

Slowly, you smile, spreading your fingers in his hair—tugging on him, pulling him with far too much ease until his forehead presses back against yours.

“You did this… before.”

A breath escapes his lips. “Yeah…”

“Why’d you come, Javi?”

I needed you.

It wasn’t a lie. If anything, it was more truthful than he cared to admit or accept. Which is why he didn’t say it—didn’t let on that the moment the walls began to tremble, he thought of you. Looked through the blinds, bitterly disappointed you weren’t there to be witty and sarcastic, smirk in that way that gets under his skin and make some flirtatious comment that makes it hard not to kiss you.

He could tell you that. Be honest.

Instead, he says nothing, staring into your eyes until he feels your other hand, the one which has been continuing to grip his elbow, squeeze.

“Okay. Lemme look after you,” you whisper, before kissing him.

Brushing your lips against him, before pulling away and then kissing him again. Testing the waters, looking for some form of permission as he grips your hips, giving it to you. He doesn’t protest when you begin trailing kisses down his jaw. Your fingers sliding around his arm, to his waist, to the belt holding his trousers up.

Holding the base of your neck, he stares into your eyes, feeling your palm brush suddenly over his cock. “You don’t have to, car—“

“Shh,” you whisper.

Slowly, he watches as you lower yourself to your knees, his throat going dry at the mere sight of you. Watching as you grip his cock. All teasingly slow, dragging it out—your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip as you continue to stroke him.

Eyes closing, he lets his head meet the wall. Needing more—almost asking for it.

It’s what you want, he assumes. Because as soon as he reaches the point where he’s going to ask, you wrap your pretty lips around him. Taking note of the way you run your tongue around the head of him before licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. Finding that your eyes don’t leave his—watching what you do to him, enjoying it.

It’s endearing.

A desire building, suddenly wanting nothing more than to watch—how he wants an unrestricted view of such beauty—of you taking him down your throat, of your cheeks hollowing, even if your actions are compelling him to close his eyes.

You’re always pretty—but this is something else. You are on your knees for him.

Taking as much of him as you can, your hand working what you can't fit—his own hand tightening around your head as you wrap his cock in warmth.

He feels you smirking, your mouth pulling back as you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, a hand grasping the back of his thigh as you hum around him.

“So fuckin’ pretty, cariño.”

The tip of your tongue slides over his slit, making him hiss again—making your name tumble freely from his tongue as he leans himself against the wall for leverage.

“I know,” you whisper, tracing your lips with his slick head, “Come down my throat, Javi.”

He grunts, nails digging into his palm as you take him down your throat. His other hand bites into your head as you take him deeper, his hips spluttering, thrusting against your tongue.

Your eyes have closed.

The window into your need to please him vanishes, and he wants to ask you to open them. To let him see. His finger strokes the top of your cheek, feeling the dampness from a tear at how deep you’re taking him.

How deep you want him down your throat.

His hand aids you, fucking into you as you hollow and moan—it vibrates all around him. It covers and smothers his own grunts and groans. The one you pull from him with ease, because everything with you he is slowly learning is easy. Not complicated—even if the situation is.

All he can think is you’re a fucking goddess, an angel—something he’s now one hundred per cent sure he doesn’t deserve.

He hisses out your name, feeling your hands clutch at him for balance, his moans filling the hallway of your place until he’s coating your throat in his pleasure. You lap up every drop of it, swallowing it—swallowing all of what he’s given you.

You don’t move, not for a minute. Him slowly pulling himself from your mouth, your hand wiping any spend from your lips to your tongue.

“You’re… fucking—”

“Something?”

He snorts, arranging himself before he fastens his trousers, shaking his head. His hand offers out to you, pulling you up from your knees as he adjusts your cardigan—as he places his lips against yours.

“I didn’t… this wasn’t why I came around.”

“Why did you… come round?”

His muscles tighten, swallowing as he stares at you.

Then you smile, placing a hand over his chest, palm flat, fingers spread. “You got anywhere to be, sir?”

Javi is frowning, before the rest of your words sink in. His hand captures yours, holding it flat against him as he shakes his head.

“Because you’re here, may as well let me toast you.”

Some mornings greet him loudly—sweat clinging to his skin, head hammering, and the world chirping.

The morning, it greets him gently, softly. The sun slides through open curtains, a calmer sound of occasional passing cars greeting his ears.

It’s only then that he registers he’s waking beside you. Your warm, soft skin curled against him—his own arm holding you close, keeping you close.

It takes a second for the sleep to flutter past his eyes, glancing at the clock on your bedside table—the one which ticks ever so loudly now he’s awake. It’s obvious the two of you have managed to catch a few hours, remembering how he’d brought you in here—thrown your decorative pillows to the floor with a smirk that you kissed immediately from his mouth.

He had told you he wouldn’t stay.

But, here he is. Now, though, he should move—even if he’s unsure if he wants to.

It’s never been his favourite thing, waking up outside of his own space. Never mind besides someone else. There were occasions and exceptions. He’s not prepared or currently capable of assessing whether you’ve slotted yourself there, either.

All he knows is… he likes it, being here.

Enjoying the fact he’s been allowed to steal a moment of this—of you. Letting himself enjoy it, the sound of your soft inhales and exhales, the way you fit against him—not in a way that looks perfect but simply feels it.

And it scares him. Just a little bit.

That thought returning, the one which bellows and beats the drum that you deserve better: than him, than what he can give you and the life you’d have being around him.

Pinching his nose, he knows he should go to the office. Should begin to unravel the highs and lows of the day prior. Make a start on the paperwork that is already mounting higher than he expected.

Instead, he turns his head. Selfishly admiring the way you sleep so peacefully, how he’d somewhat expected to find a creased forehead or a tightened jaw. A part had also expected to hear nightmares plague you, knowing there’s something there—living in your mind. A bad memory, a past which hammers at you to get out.

He’d half expected to have his own rear its head too.

Instead, he’s sure none had greeted the night air.

If anything, he slept peacefully, soundly. Almost oddly, for the most consecutive hours since way before Escobar was caught. He shuffles against the pillow, eyes widening when he realises and feels your head rolling ever so slightly on his chest. The smallest of movements that had rippled out into hearing you murmur.

Freezing, it dawns on him that he doesn’t want the bubble to burst. Studying, secretly praying he hasn’t woken you, as your lashes flutter and your lips don’t press back together. He’s a passenger, unable to stop the undoing as your brows dip, your fingers spread over his chest—

“J-Javi?”

It’s full of sleep, his name. And fuck, it has never sounded so nice.

He thought it bellowed or screamed as he fucked someone was good, but this… is something else. It takes a chunk from him, snatches it, and renders him thoughtless as you turn your head on his chest, looking up at him, blinking.

“Morning,” he whispers, thumb stroking your cheek. “I’m… I should go, cariño…”

You frown, not like normal—smothered in sleepiness that it doesn’t quite form.

A string is plucked in his chest when your fingers slide over his chest, watching them rub at your face. A desperation rises in him to kiss you, to taste what morning and goodness is like—even if it's coated in unbrushed teeth and last night.

But, it’s his moment to move—his chance. To relieve you of his presence.

Not that he takes it. Instead, he absorbs the moment he was robbed of the first night he took you to his—of seeing you without armour or walls.

“If y’give me…”

“—cariño—“

“… like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,” you say, words monotone and low as your hand slowly drops from your face to his chest. “I need… really need a shower. Then can come wit’you.”

As soon as you sit up, cool air brushes over the places you’d been against him—goosebumps appearing over his skin as you stretch. His hand lightly grasps your forearm, keeping you from sliding out the sheets completely as he whispers your name.

Lets it slide into the air of your home, around the two of you—the room he secretly wishes could pause time so neither of you had to leave.

Not ready to face the fallout from Martinez, the look of ‘what’s next’ on everyone’s face. Never mind the note clearly from Stechner.

“You don’t… you don’t have to, I need…”

His fingers move to your cheek, sliding over your jaw, only managing a half-breath as you flick your eyes to look over him—stunning him in a shade, he’s not sure truly has a name.

“W-what?”

“Nothing,” he lies.

Following your suit, he sits up, your sheet falling to his waist as he marries his lips back to yours. Fingers finding your chin, keeping you there, stealing another moment, and another. Doing so until your hand wraps around his wrist, thumb stroking a line up and down his wrist.

“I need a shower…”

He snorts. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I’m normally in an hour or two later anyway—plus…”

“Plus?”

Your lips slide, less of a smirk but more than a smile. “I have to come and ensure you don’t fuck with my organisational system. No other reason.”

“Not one?”

“No.”

He tuts. “I can keep things organised.”

You scoff, light and airy. “Peña, you’ve been here five minutes, and your desk already looks like it’s amassed ten years of files, so—I’m gonna call bullshit. Respectfully.”

“Respectfully?”

“Yes.”

He allows a laugh to escape, light and airy, it falling from him with far too much ease. Pulled from some depths he hasn’t allowed himself to explore.

Sliding from him, you stand, grasping at a t-shirt that begins to mist over your body—hiding your skin, your curves and the marks he’s left from view.

“I… I should say, I don’t mind that you showed up at my place, Javi.”

He traces his mouth with his thumb, looking at you. “Javi, huh?”

You smile, rolling your lips as you sigh. “You wore me down.”

“Go shower, I’ll wait for you.”

Pausing at the door frame, you glance at him, half your body framed in shadow and the other in the morning light. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone look more beautiful in the earliest hours of a new day.

chapter six ->

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morningstarascending · 11 months

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Life No Longer Silenced - Part 6

I wake up in the hospital only to discovered I have been ran over. I have 24 hours of memories from that day missing. Problem was, a car theif stole a car and I was ran over. Doctors told me I have two severe brain concussions ( front left lobe and back right lobe), pinched and damaged nerves and, a possibility of paralysis. I looked at the doctor calmly and that freaked them out, since I was a pain before. I wanted to take care of myself and go to the bathroom myself. So I was awake and stubborn about taking care of myself, yet I remember nothing. Even my subconcious a bad habits. Though I can;t remeber the episodes or movies on a lot of shows or movies I seen, so it fun to watch it like it was the first time again. Sometimes, some flashes sneak in, better that than negative memories. Finally I come back home and ask to work and only do office work, no stocking or heavy lifting. That didn't last long, he became even more demanding to help remove house tenants, belongs, collect rents checks and, maintenance on a/c units. Stress on me and wear and tear on my car was getting to be way too much. I needed a pay raise and asked for one. I get a possition demotion with a pay decrease and firing for nearly a year in advance. You can re read that, that is true. So in the mean time I tried these stuppid app jobs while working at that gas station. First it was postmates and taht was so horrible. Hardly any orders, pay was so bad and no one really tipped at all. In two weeks I only made 24 bucks and stoked doing that. They I did Lyft, it was also bad. There were too many drivers in an area and then also no one really wanted to tip. After a few months I found out you can only make a living on this in a major city. I found a job at a private liquor store and quit the gas station but kept doing Lyft. Sadly I ended up doing Lyft as a side hustle when my account kept ketting hacked, cars put on there, money taken. Lyft's software security sucks, so I had to contact them to deactivate my account. They didn't even understand that. They kept asking if I wanted to delete it, faq said it can only be deactivated. I have lost faith in the intelligence of humanity and many have been warned about it deteriorating. THis guy was a new owner to the business, kept rude and toxic employees and had a revolving door for more toxic employees. He would never hire enough and expect people to work so many hours for so little pay but was always a couple more dollars than most till the pandemic hit. In the begining it was ok and not too bad, just working till 10 and getting to bed at midnight. As usual I awlways show up to work on time, follow company policy and, constantly keeping the shelfs full. Well he buys another store making it 3 of them and asks me to become manager. Yet again, trust and being promoted quickly, I hate it. It cause animosity in the work place, especially others that want it that have been there longer. It made me alienated but I remained friendly and did my best. Since I was manager I had full access to the system. So I got to work in improving inventory, profits and, stock. I ended up doing so much physical and mental work. I cut inventory down to what sold the most, made it more so easily accessable for stock and sales and, improve profits. All three stores bounces around 23% and 25%. After looking at prices at major and local stores, going through the system (correcting all the numbers; stock, margins, inventory, case sizes. ect...) I had it up to a constant 26% a month. As usually a revolving door of employees but not raising pay during the pandemic caused them to lose employeess and forcing to work at all three stores. Two pretty far apart in one city and the other in another city entirely. Me being promoted, one manager left and other was just lazy and was fired. He promoted a gun loving racist that scared that shit out of me, especially always on drugs. The third manager position kept changing and more toxic employees come in. I finally get the margin at a steady 30% / 31% a month and a usually average is 25 percent.

#life #lifetoblog #life struggles #life stuff #abuse survivor #childhood trauma

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mzmezzler · 3 years

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Afterglow - Sub!Nayeon x Fem!Reader

shortlist: mommy kink, fwb (friends with benefits), sleepy sex, dom!reader, sub!nayeon, pillow fucking, thigh riding, drool (cause I like drool sue me), roommates.

word count: 1.4k

Summary: pt. 2 to Pillowtalk immediately after and the morning after...please read that last one :)

a/n: I didn’t want to write this one initially, but it just felt right I guess. I have a love, hate relationship with open endings. And one anon wanted it like three months ago and i didn't forget 🤠

Any and all feedback is appreciated :)

You look at Nayeon with wide eyes, still nestled within the covers while you stare back at her in her afterglow. Her underwear was still crooked, and her hair was messed out of it’s ponytail while she sat planted on the pillow.

Neither of you knew whether to speak or not, but you could just talk about it in the morning.

It’s easier said than done to just try and sleep after catching your roommate masturbating, and subsequently joining in without her knowledge.

Nayeon flicked her lamp back off the instant after the two of you locked eyes, and since then the two of you sat in silence trying to pretend it was all like before.

Both trying to pass it off and sleep like the tension wasn’t as thick as the comforters you both lay painfully still.

“How long were you listening”

Averting your eyes from the brunette you stare out at the ceiling above you, “I don’t know honestly-” The popcorn texture moves by itself while your tired eyes try to adjust to the ever changing light.

“I heard you before I saw you, and I rolled over to be sure you were...actually doing what I thought I guess.”

“Oh”

Silence trails on like a thick coat of paint drying on the walls , the pair of you are in a similar state of shock.

Figuring Nayeon hadn’t gone to sleep you pipe up in the “What were you thinking about that had you getting off with me in the room anyway?”

“You”

“So I was the mommy you were moaning for?”

Prying your eyes away from the ceiling you crane your neck to look over at your roommate where she’s already looking at you with an unreadable expression.

That blush is back...

“I asked you a question, or wait-” you press before pausing to chuckle.

“Mommy asked you a question.”

Moving to sit up in bed properly, you finally look over at the girl who

“Yes, mommy, you were the one.”

Nayeon’s voice had a light and breathy tone as the words glided out of her mouth. The satisfaction of the confession made you grin with your arm propped on your pillow as you looked back at the girl with a smug expression.

“Now come over here and show Mommy what you want”

Moving to lie back on the mattress, you wait for the brunette to pad her way over.

“-and bring your pillow dear”

Once near you, Nayeon just stands at the edge of the bed, almost embarrassed to join you.

You pat the open space near you with a slight nod, “Sit on the pillow while I talk to you”

And like that, there was that infectious excitement bubbling back into Nayeon’s eyes as they flit from the sheets to your own expecting gaze.

Then that playful grin with the flash of those bunny teeth was back as if her past embarrassment rolled off her back. And with a leg thrown over your form, Nayeon lowers herself onto your lap.

“Is it ok to be right here instead?”

With Nayeon perched on your lap with the glow of the moonlight illuminating her face in the softest way, things felt right. You matched her soft smile as your hands moved to slide up her bare thighs, drinking in the feeling of her soft skin.

“Now talk me through your little fantasy” You whisper.

It must’ve been embarrassing to have to recount what made Nayeon so worked up in the first place, but there was something about making her feel so small while you patiently waited for her confession that stirred something within you. But that ever flowing sense of confidence was always something to behold in her, and now it’s rearing its head in the most enticing way.

Fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, there is a sense of a false innocence to those wide eyes when she looks up at you with her head hung low.

“I like to think about you making me ride your thigh. And you just watching me be a slutty girl for you-”

Pausing to sit up a bit and slide the pillow in between her thighs, Nayeon huffs at the pressure paired with your more tightening grip on her sides.

“And it makes me feel so good..” She leans into your space now hovering near your lips.

“-Knowing I’m making mommy happy”

“And you know how to make mommy happy hm?”

The two of you are close enough to kiss, but the tension of breathing each other’s air and tilting your heads into the near embrace was almost as gratifying as dragging it out. Just tasting the slight hesitancy mingling with the equal amount of desperation.

But in a rush to move things along Nayeon swipes her tongue along your bottom lip, urging you to meet her for a wet kiss. Meeting her with a sluggish slide of lips and tongue, sucking into each other’s mouths with wandering hands along your back and a firm hand worming its way under her shirt.

The kiss turned as you cradled her face with one hand, carding your fingers through her hair while drinking in the sounds of needy whines and the slide of spit. And with your other you let your fingertips dance over Nayeon’s chest and up to pinch and twist her nipples in your hands while her back arches into the sensation.

Fuck, she got so worked up so easily; now just a whining mess gasping and subtly rutting into the pillow below her like she wasn’t just getting off a bit before.

Nayeon kissed with such desperation like this, sucking up all you were willing to give. And right after seeing the sight of your desires and now having the very picture placed on your lap, you weren’t in the mood to drag this on for so long.

Breaking the kiss to move onto Nayeon’s neck, you let the string of spit drag onto the side of the brunette's face as you slide the hand in her hair back to the nape of her neck. Gripping the ponytail in your hand, forcing Nayeon to let out a high pitched moan at the force while you smile into the kisses your pepper along her neck.

“Does it feel good hun? Getting off for mommy” You ask.

The girl gives a dumb nod with a far away look in her eyes. Nayeon has been rolling her hips and grinding against the pillow with fever while you’ve playing with her body. It was so adorable to see her fall into only lazy huffs of air leaving her mouth.

A string of “thank you mommy”’s and “only for you”’s filled your ears while Nayeon rode out her high once again for the night. It didn’t take long, but from the way her lashes fluttered, it would be the last.

Nayeon came with a small sequel you almost missed with how focused you were tweaking her brown buds while biting marks onto her neck. She slumped against you with an instant wave of exhaustion hitting.

“Let’s lie you down love, I don’t want you to fall asleep on me” you soothe.

Shifting her off of your lap to lay on her side and on the pillow she just, Nayeon suddenly grabs your wrist with a confused expression.

“I didn’t help you” she states.

“You will, but for now you need to sleep, I’ll be ok.”

“Now let’s go to bed this time ok?”

“Ok”

#sub!twice #sub!nayeon #sub!idol #sub!kpop #nayeon fic #nayeon x reader #twice x you #twice x reader #twice fanfic #wlw kpop

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bruhstories · 3 years

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Home for the Holidays

summary: you come back home for the holidays and get a very warm welcome. pairing: stepbro!armin x female!reader warnings & content: stepcest, fingering, unprotected sex, dom!armin, sub!reader word Count: 2k-ish

a/n: umm, don't go around fucking your stepbros? i mean i can't stop you but sweet home alabama should play in your head if you do it. also sorry if this feels a bit rushed, i don't even have time to breathe | @mikasascabin @armins-futon

Pop!

Incessant, irritating sounds of gum popping, then smacking against your teeth, the annoying chewing that came out of your mouth, the infuriating tapping of your leg, the exasperating drumming of your fingers against the kitchen table — it's driving Armin insane. It's been driving Armin insane for years. And despite the fact that you're both adults now, you still can't get along. He's smart, quiet and a workaholic, you're a social butterfly who works smart, not hard.

"Armin, Y/N, you're not leaving this kitchen until you solve your conflict and apologise." His mom would say. It used to be your punishment when Armin and you were kids — and it's your punishment even know. You roll your eyes, gum popping all over your face and the tip of the nose. Armin snickers at the disgusted look on your face, mumbling a serves you right under his nose.

Sometimes you wondered if the tension between you and him was sexual. But... it couldn't be, could it? You were his damn stepsister, yet when you came back home for Thanksgiving, Armin was a whole different person. Fresh cut, a change of wardrobe, a better attitude — he was hot, no longer the nerd you used to tease. You study him from across the table after cleaning your face, lower lip between your teeth, head in your hands.

"You heard your mommy, Armin, apologise and let's get this over with."

"Me? You're the one who came home and ruined everything."

"Ruined what? A shitty dinner with a family who doesn't give a fuck about me? No, bro, I improved everything." You lean back in your chair and nonchalantly slam your feet on the table. "Not that you would know what it's like to be in my shoes, anyway."

"Your shoes? What about mine?" Armin slams his fists on the table. "At least no one expects anything from you."

"Wow, thanks." You get up and he realises just how nasty he sounded.

"Wait-"

"Fuck off." You dash past him with tears in your eyes. He was right, your father never expected anything from you, nor did your stepmother. Armin, on the other hand, was a genius, a straight A student and now he even received a scholarship from his university. Of course, people had high expectations from him and in a way, that made you jealous.

'Oh, Armin, we're so proud of you!'

'Armin, you did great!'

'Did you know Armin won an international maths competition?'

You shut the door to your room and crawl under your blanket. You always tried your best, but you could never compete with him. And your father, your ownfather, sometimes seemed to love Armin more than you. Minutes pass before you hear your stepmother rushing with your father to go visit some of your relatives and you hope Armin would go with them, but you're unlucky today. Once the car leaves the driveway, a soft knock makes you snap your neck up.

"Go away."

"Y/N, please, I didn't mean to say that."

"I don't care!" You throw a book at the door but Armin still won't budge.

"Open the damn door!"

"Why, so you can brag about how you're the perfect child?"

"So I can apologise, you... you bitch!"

Silence. Your ears ring with the word and Armin knows he fucked up big time. In a flash, the door is open and you're ready to kick him in the shin but for some reason, when you see his face, you stop.

"Apologise, then, and apologise for calling me a bitch, you little shit!"

"God, why do you hate me so much? You tormented me ever since you moved in with us!"

"Well, genius, has it ever occurred to you that maybe I never wanted this?"

"Of course it has! But you're always so cold and all I wanted was to talk to you. I don't even know your favourite colour and you're supposed to be my sister!" His voice is soft and sorrowful and you fold your arms across your chest.

"I don't want to be your sister."

"Then what do you want? You're always bitch but when I bring a girl over, you're suddenly overprotective."

"You do the exact same thing, dumbass! Every time! You act like a sad puppy but the moment you hear I'm going out with a guy you turn into some alpha male." You frown and grab the door handle. "This conversation is over."

"No, it's not." He puts his foot in the door and you narrow your eyes at his low voice and different demeanour.

"Yes, it is. Go do some studying for uni." You try to close the door but suddenly he's so much stronger. Has he been working out?

"You think this is all I do? Work and study? You think I'm some kind of teacher's pet who doesn't break rules?" You don't even realise when he's in your room, hands on your shoulders and his face so close to yours. "You think I'm an angel? A saint?" The words drip from his tongue with so much venom and your body softens. This is so unlike him but you can't help but be intrigued.

"Armin, please-"

"Oh, I'm Armin now? Not some shitty nickname? What’s the matter, can’t come up with a clever insult?" His thumb grazes over your cheek and you feel the hairs on your arms stand up. You like this side of Armin, and the fact that for three years you were his stepsister went down the drain. "I tried to be good, Y/N, I tried to be nice. But you don't like nice, do you?"

You shake your head with lidded eyes, drinking his touch, but a sharp pain from a slap wakes you up from your thoughts.

"Talk."

"N-no, I don't like nice!"

"It's unbelievable what a good girl you are when I press the right buttons."

You know it now, why you've always acted this way with Armin — you don't want him to see you as his stepsister, not even as his friend — you want to be his lover. In his ocean blue eyes, you can see that he wants the same thing — they are filled with lust and desire. You don't want to speak, afraid you might ruin this moment, but at the same time you have questions to ask and answers to get. Armin catches your mind drifting elsewhere and another slap across your already stinging cheek brings your full attention to him.

"I know what you like, Y/N. You fucked enough of my friends for me to know exactly what you want."

"Excuse me? You talk to your friends about how your sister fucks them?"

"Stepsister." He corrects you, his fingers tangled in your locks. "What would our parents say if they found out what a filthy slut you are?"

"I-" You want to say something, come up with a snarky remark, but the words die in your throat and your brain turns to mush. Armin leans closer, his hot breath tickling your ear.

"I bet I can fuck you better than any of them." He whispers and just then you feel your aching cunt begging to be filled with his cock.

"Armin..." You try again, but you still don't know if you want him to stop or carry on. It all feels so wrong but so right at the same time.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N." He nibbles on your earlobe, goosebumps dotting your skin.

"I don-" You choke on your words when you feel his hand slither under your shirt, fingers playing with your nipple.

"Come on, talk." Armin is now gently kissing the crook of your neck and your knees almost give in. Truthfully, no man ever made you feel so weak, so needy.

"Please, I want you!" You tried to whisper but it came out as a desperate cry.

"That's not good enough." He pinches your sensitive bud and you yelp, back hitting the door.

"I want you to f-fuck me, please, Armin! Fuck me good!"

"Much better." He presses his lips onto yours and he can taste the bubblegum you so annoyingly chewed when you let his tongue part open your mouth.

You don't have a clue when your clothes disappeared, scattered on the floor, along with your and his underwear, and frankly you don’t even care. Armin has you down on all fours on the mattress, two fingers pumping into your sweet cunt as you pathetically moan his name.

"Look at you! Such a filthy whore, all wet for your stepbro."

"Oh, God- want you inside-"

"I know, princess. Be patient." He curls his fingers in ways you didn't think were possible, but then you feel his tongue lazily dragging up and down your slit and you let yourself fall on the bed, face down, ass up. You had guys go down on you before, but the way Armin did it was incredible. He was meticulous, attentive, careful to let you know exactlywho owned your cunt. When he feels your thighs shake, he pulls away, earning a dissatisfied sigh of protest from you as you jolt back up.

"No, no. You're not coming yet." He yanks you by the hair, fingers gripping your chin and turning your head to the side. Armin presses his body against yours, and you feel his throbbing cock resting on your ass as he eagerly kisses you. "You taste good, don't you?"

You nod back, unable to form a coherent sentence, all you could do was push your ass against him, yearning to be filled.

"Armin, please, I need to feel you. Please!"

"Shit, I didn't think you'd be so fucking needy. Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, yes! I promise I'll be good from now on! Please!"

"You better keep your promise, Y/N." He growls, pushing you back on the mattress, the glistening tip of his cock positioned at your entrance. “Otherwise, I’ll have to punish you.” Inch by inch, he bottoms out and you throw your head back, spongy walls clenching around his cock. Thick and long, Armin was by far the biggest man you've been with, and you really didn't expect this. Yet when he started pounding into your cunt, you didn't regret coming home for the holidays.

"H-harder!" You beg him and you can feel his shit-eating grin burning into your back because he is the one making you feel this way, and he knows that after tonight, you'll always come crawling to him. Armin didn't waste any time, his thrusts became harsher and deeper, cock sliding in and out of you making your head fuzzy.

"You're so tight, so wet. Bet you don't get this wet for others."

"I don't! Oh, fuuuck, right there!"

Beads of sweat form on his forehead, fingers digging into your flesh as you buck your hips against his. It's been a while since he fucked you, your whimpers echoing in the bedroom, his name rolling down your tongue perfectly. You’re made for him. But all good things come to an end, and shortly you felt the need for release, thighs quaking and pleasure flushing through your entire body. Armin is close, too, but Armin also wants to humiliate you and remind you where your place is. He pulls out, cock in one hand, locks of your hair in his other.

"Promise you'll be good?"

"Promise!" You look at him with glossy eyes.

"Close your eyes." The man demands and you obey, hot strings of his seed spilling onto your face, and you lick your lips to taste him. Sinful, yet divine. Right, yet wrong. "Get yourself cleaned up."

You sit on the couch, legs on Armin's lap when your father and stepmother come back home. You can't even focus on the movie, all you can think about is your stepbrother's cock stretching you out and filling you good.

"Huh, I've never seen you two getting along this well." Your father comments. "Look at them, finally behaving like proper siblings."

"Took you long enough!" Armin's mother smiles. "What did you do?"

"We talked." Armin replies with his usual joyful voice but you know better than that. You know exactly the kind of person he is behind closed doors.

"Well, at least now we're finally a happy family." His mother pats you on the shoulder.

"Yeah," you grin, "one biiiiig, happy family."

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adelior · 3 years

Text

Name: Unconditionally

Author: R. Adelio

Genre: Romance, Minecraft, Comedy, Fluff

Main Lead: Technoblade, Dreamwastaken, DreamXD

Female Lead: Reader

Chapter: 2

Special Addition: Tchnomaid

Letters: 7,463

Tags: Kissing, Deep Kisses, Fluff

<- ->

You felt Niki wrap her arms around you, including Tommy and Tubbo. Fundy stood by the entrance with Eret leaning against the wall. "We thought you'd never come back" Niki admitted, tears pouring out of her eyes. "What do you mean? Did something happen?" Tommy pushed himself away from the embrace and looked at Wil, giving him a slight nod.

"Dream has taken away our traveling rights to the Nether. We only found out not too long ago, and when Niki told me you went to get spider eyes from the piglin market I was scared you were going to get trapped in there forever."

"And this is all because I trespassed their fucking territory?!" You questioned, clenching your fists. "Well," Fundy started, stroking his fingers through his hair. "Dream has always been seen as someone strict and demanding. I'm not surprised he's doing this. If we want to gain his trust back we need to go contact... him." He elaborated, making sure to exaggerate the last word.

"Him?" You, Tommy, and Tubbo asked in unison, confused on what Fundy meant. "Men who are on neither side, with odd genetics." Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming disappointed that they'd have to go that far as to contact these 'Men'

"Oh!" Tommy perked up, instantly standing. "You mean Techno and Phil?! I haven't fucking seen them in ages! I wonder how they're doing" Eret cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "This might just be a rumor but I heard that they are no longer staying in the inn. They moved to a cold tundra where barely anyone inhabits"

"Tundra... We'll have to look more into it." Wilbur shrugged his jacket off, gently wrapping it around you. You looked into his eyes, you could see a mix of emotions, but you weren't too sure on what they were. "Everyone, except for [Name], get ready. We're going to be visiting an old friend."

"Wait a second, why can't I come-" You stood up, only to be stopped by Wilbur himself. "[Name], you still need to finish brewing the potions. Besides you don't know the vicinity well better than we do, you've only been here for a year and a hal-"

"But I don't want to feel useless Wil, please let me come with you I'll do anythi-" The brunette lifted his hand, causing you to stop in place as the rest of the group walked out of the nether portal room. Tubbo looked back, giving you a compassionate smile before following everybody else. "It's best if you stay here. That's an order as your Leader."

"Wh.." You stood there, completely in shock. Never have you experienced Wilbur giving you orders that you were against, especially because it made the both of you seem distant. "I'm sorry." Was all he said before walking away.

The rest of the day was spent alone in your office, lazily brewing the potions that you were ordered to finish. You understood why he made that decision, you knew better than to question his motives. But even so, leaving you alone in this empty house was suffocating.

You darted your gaze over to his leather jacket, the one he gently placed on your shoulders. It was enough to make your heart skip a beat. 'No, I shouldn't' Shaking your head, you put the ingredients away and placed the finished potion bottles into the chest.

Deciding that you should spend the rest of your day exploring the facility, you shrugged your sweater on and turned to follow a path that led to a cave once you left the building. Something that has been catching your attention ever since you arrived. You've never really explored this route, nor did you question anybody about it.

"Do not enter.." You mumbled as you softly swiped your hand over the carvings of the wooden sign. "Shit, then this is probably dangerous." Stepping back, you were about to turn around but you hear a faint voice coming from deep inside the cave, urging you to go further in.

"Come here, human." The voice singsonged, it was comforting yet deep, a voice that sounded similar to the one that Clay had. You looked back as a soft breeze escaped the entrance of the cavern. Usually, when facing obscure and suspicious areas such as this one, you tend to stir away, not wanting to cause any trouble.

But this is different, the voice is so soothing to the point your legs moved on their own. Panic surged through your veins, unable to stop yourself from going deeper into the cave. It was dark, you couldn't see anything but a singular light at the end of the tunnel.

"Good girl.." The masculine voice praised, your cheeks warmed, eyes tightly shut. You refused to see what was beyond you, feeling the presence of something much more superior than yourself. "What is the matter? Are you afraid of me?" It questioned, causing you to vigorously shake your head.

The being chuckled, crouching to your level until his face was close to yours. "I've never seen a beautiful human such as yourself before." He brushed a singular finger over your closed eyelids, only tempting you to open them. "What the hell are you..-" You asked, gulping as you feel its hand travel towards your neck.

You couldn't move, you were unable to lift a single hand. And even if you did you don't think you'd have the courage to hit whatever was in front of you. "It is futile for you to know who I am, human."

The both of you stayed in silence for a few seconds, until you feel the warmth of someone pressing their lips against yours. You quickly opened your eyes, only to be met with a dazzling emerald gaze. "What are y-" Once your lips parted, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth where your muscles danced.

"Sleep my gem," You heard his voice in your head, "We will meet again soon." Darkness, the next second you saw nothing but the void. "This is simply a see you next time gift." He whispered against your mouth, a smirk breaking out.

Your body jolted forward, causing you to wake up from your slumber. You quickly looked around, scanning your surroundings, it was your bedroom. "What the hell, was that all just a dream?" The realization hit you when you blinked the tiredness away. 'I JUST MADE OUT WITH SOME RANDOM MAN IN MY DREAM-'

You slouched forward, pounding your fist against the bed. 'WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME-' The more you think about how the kiss made you feel the more your face burned. "UGHHHHHHHHHHH" Throwing one of your pillows towards the door, you didn't expect Wilbur to show up, the cushion hitting his face.

"Oh shit-"

Wil stared at you in confusion, pillow in hand. "Is something wrong?" He asked, walking to where you sat on your bed. "No, don't worry about it" You lied, darting your eyes anywhere but the man who you crushed on. The feeling of guilt surging through you as you recalled the 'dream'

"It doesn't look like it." He sighed, sitting at the end of your bed. "[Name], did something happen when we were gone?"

"HM?" You snapped your head towards him, causing the brunette to jump a bit. "Oh nothing at all, hahaaahhah" Awkwardly laughing, you forced out a cough. "Why do you ask-"

"Well... When we arrived you were passed out in your office. You seemed drained so I carried you here. It's been 19 minutes."

"Oh, I was just tired there's no need to worry!" Sitting there with a dumbfounded expression, the image of the man you kissed in your dream flashed in your head. 'Why am I so shameless..-' You silently cursed yourself for imagining it once more, a random man out of all things. Despite your reassuring words, Wil looked at you as if he had something on his mind.

"If you say so."

<- ->

ec: @quacobs (instagram)

#mcyt x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #technoblade x reader

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karasu-calls · 2 years

Text

On The Sublime

Twisted Wonderland

Floyd x Yuu/OC -<<<<>>>>- Summary: After switching to a new class, Yuu finds herself becoming the plaything of one of the infamous Leech twins. With each day that she becomes closer to the smile of Floyd, she wonders how close is too close? What is the line between bravery and stupidity? Will getting too close show that she had misunderstood someone innocent, or will she be sucked into the merciless depths of pain? categories: slow burn, angst, romance, aged up characters, smut, and fluff, cross-posted from A03 & FFnet

Chapter 2: Surprise and Hair Ties (2,266 words)

Chapter index: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

"Nn-guh!" She choked out in shock.

Not the best reaction, but she yanked her braid from his grip, leaving in his fingers her hair tie. His grin widened as the shimmery silver band lay in his palm. She scooted back to regain her personal space, pinching her hair to keep the braid together. He didn't budge, still remaining leaned down to her height, twirling the band in his grasp.

"H-hey, give that back." she demanded in a shriek, holding out her spare hand. He looked up at her, the grin remained as his gaze pierced her. Ugh, he was frightening. Her dream didn't help, especially with how close he had been moments ago.

"Why?" He asked calmly, his head tilting as his fist curled over the hair tie. She tried to still her shocked heart and steady herself.

"Because my braid will fall out. I need it back," she whined out and shoved her palm to him again. He looked from her to the band in his hand as if thinking about what to do next. "It's my favorite one!" She didn't waver and still held her hand out.

"Hmm… okay, since it's your favorite." He decided and held it out to her. She went to take it but he pulled it away and straightened up showing off his height. "But! You've gotta play that song again, okay shrimpy?" She cringed at the nickname and mulled the arrangement over.

"Ugh, fine, but let me fix my hair first." She agreed, rolling her eyes. He still held the hair tie at his height and shook his head.

"Nuh-uh, play the song and I'll give it back." He didn't move, looking down at her with that smirk. She frowned.

"My hair will untwist and I don't have a hairbrush. If I let go of it, it's gonna ruin it." She reasoned, reaching her hand up to his height as best she could from her seat.

"I'll hold it!" He proclaimed. What?

Before she could argue, he pulled the end of her hair from her own grip and pinched it just as she had. Ugh, this was ridiculous. She clenched her jaw and turned in her seat to play the damn keyboard. It was clear that there was no getting to the dude so it would just be best if she got this over with so she could fix her hair and tell him to get the hell out of the classroom.

She began the same melody, but now she was hyper-aware of her hair being lightly tugged from behind. She didn't look up to see, but she know his freakish eyes were watching her every note. It was fine for a bar or two and then she hit the wrong note. He gave her a little tug.

"Hey, you messed that up." He chided, at some point having leaned down to her level again.

"Maybe I could play better if you backed off." She gestured at him over her shoulder, "Shoo, shoo." Yet, he didn't waver, just as she expected.

Focusing on playing, she halfway forgot her company until the arrangement was through. Once she was done, Yuu looked over her shoulder to glare at the hair tie thief. His face was still very close yet the only place he was touching her was her hair. His sole earring clackered as the decorative plates shifted in their suspension. The dream flashed in her mind again and she felt her face heat.

"Oh, you're done? That's lame." He whined twirling her hair around his fingers.

"Hair tie, please!" She had no patience. Without hesitation, he looped the hair tie over the end of her hair, securing the braid by himself. He dropped the braid back over her shoulder. Absently, she traced over his work, not really expecting it to be snug, yet it was as if she had done it herself.

He giggled and backed off, finally! Still, she felt guarded and didn't take her eyes off him.

"Well, little shrimpy can play~ you're in this class now?" He asked, standing over her. He swayed a bit on his feet.

She hadn't considered it, but maybe he was in this class too? If so, there goes kicking him out of the classroom now. She didn't want this to become an everyday thing. This class was supposed to be fun and relaxing, but if she was going to have to watch over her shoulder, literally, it was going to be hell.

Considering that it would only be for this class, Yuu felt relief there at least. Sure, with the new point system she was a tiny bit more likely to be dragged with her group to Monstro Lounge as the chance for a study guide later on towards midterms, so it wasn't like she saw the twins often. Still, this was her music class and she wanted it to be fun, dammit.

Looking down she pulled both ends of her braids into her hand.

"Yeah, I transferred today. Are you in this class?" She asked cautiously. Please say no, please say no.

"Oh yeah, I love it! Music is my favorite always, when it's not boring." He mused, flashing a carnivorous smile at her. "But Shrimpy can play well so you won't bore me, right?" Again, with the nickname.

Damn!

"Bore you? I'm not here to play for you." She asserted. "But, next time you're thinking about making me play something, don't tug my hair tie out." She grumbled, watched as he shook his head and narrowed his eyes at her.

"But Shrimpy is the one who tugged her own hair tie out, remember?" Ugh, he was right.

"Yeah, yeah." she waved her hand. "And that's another thing. The "shrimpy" thing? Cut it out!" There was a short period of silence when she anticipated either an apology or an irritating defiance where he calls her the nickname again.

He offered nothing but a shrug, not commenting. Somehow, that was more annoying. His smug look never left his face and she wondered if it was a lost cause. Maybe she should just try to ignore his antics for the whole semester, but somehow she could see that not working. From the rumors she had heard, the guy was relentless in his torture of other classmates. Maybe rolling with the punches was the best way to stay on top of it, in some way or another. Yeah, after all, rolling with it had gotten her this far. She would ignore him until she couldn't and not fret when she had to interact with him. It sounded good enough for her. That's what she decided.

Footsteps approached the door, drawing both of their attention to the front.

"Yuu! I talked to the professor and uh… um." Deuce stopped, seeing the second half of the torture twins lingering over her. His concern was undeniable.

Good, a savior.

"Deuce, hey! I saved your seat for you~" she managed to croon out to acknowledge her friend without the hair tugger catching on that she wanted backup. She motioned him over and the raven-haired guy approached, shooting the interloper a cautious look as he ascended up the raised seating. He came around to his seat, ducking around Floyd, who stood in the path

"What were you saying? Did you find anything out?" She brought up, and her friend's face lit up as he took his seat.

"Oh right, Mr. Forte said there weren't any violins here because they're too pricey and students break them." He answered, pulling a sleek case from his bag and into his lap. His clarinet, she guessed.

"Figures, seems other students ruined it for me huh?" She deflated a tad. I mean, this wasn't orchestra class so she understood but not having a violin in the whole school stinks. And hell, she had no clue the price of magic violins or what have you.

"Oh, you can play the violin too?" Floyd inquired, making himself comfortable as he pulled up a chair between the two. He propped his arms upon his knees and rested his chin on his palms. The plan was to ignore him but that was in the dust now.

"Too? What else do you play?" Deuce asked, looking at her with a hint of amazement. Deuce, you're not helping with ignoring scary eel man. She resigned herself to her fate.

Just roll with it.

"Well, piano. I know a lot about music production since it was my major… back home." she admitted. Her friend settled his blue eyes on her as if it clicked.

"So you don't even need this class?" He asked, and she gave a sort of nod.

"Well, yes? No? I need this class for credit so I can go to more advanced classes." She admitted. Deuce let his eyes close, the turquoise-haired student watched on, his duo tone eyes looking between them as they talked.

"Oh no, you're gonna laugh at me when you hear how bad at the clarinet I am so far." he buried his face in his hands and turned away.

"No, don't think that! I already told you, everyone starts somewhere." She corrected, waving her hands around frantically. That was the last thing wanted him to think. He peeked through his fingers, letting his hand slide down and pull his face.

"But you're like… a genius or something." He muttered, mussing over the locks on his case.

"Hardly, I've just studied a little longer!" She denied it, shaking her head and her hands.

"You're right, I just need more time to practice! And maybe we could practice together and-" He was cut off by the cheery voice beside them.

"Yawn, this conversation is kinda boring, not gonna lie. Hey, I've got it Shrimpy, would you play violin for me? Please ~?" He asked and Deuce gave her a look as if to ask if she needed his intervention. She returned a telepathic look, communicating that she'd be handling it herself.

"I don't have a violin, dude. I don't even know where to get one around here." She answered, halfway avoiding the question. It didn't seem like she was going to shuck that horrible nickname anytime soon.

"Wait, hold up!" he urged, holding a finger up as he squirmed around his seat, finding what he was looking for. Out he pulled a voucher card, fully stamped all except for one space. He held it out for her, a big grin on his face. Did he stamp these himself? In hopes of bartering it off when he needed?

"What, aren't you going to get your ass chewed for that?" Deuce asked and Floyd shook his head, waiting for her to take it.

"No, I found it outside on the sidewalk. Some unlucky person dropped it so I snatched it up." He answered brightly, as if proud to show it. He waved it around in front of her. "I was going to bring it back to Azul, but ~ if agree to play for me, I'll give it to you." He drove the bargain and she looked from him to the voucher.

He grinned at her the same as always, but this time maybe it wasn't malicious. He hadn't really done anything to make her any more suspicious than she was of her friends and even her roommate… and now policies with his dorm had changed. If it could get her a violin, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Besides, only one stamp remained and she did love the pina coladas the lounge served.

It might have been a bad idea to accept, but when had she really made any good decisions yet? Besides, it didn't mean that she had to take action now, and she could always give it back if she changed her mind.

"Yeah, okay. If I get a violin, I'll play it for you, but only when I have time. And no pulling my hair anymore! And no "shrimpy" anymore too. And uh.. I'll figure it out what else later." She answered and went for the voucher with grabby hands.

And just like with the hair tie, he stood up and held it high. The chair pushed back and made a scratching sound.

"If? You said "if" and that's not enough. Also, tugging your hair is too fun so…" He drew out and gave her a wicked smile as he ripped the voucher in half. "No deal, Shrimpy."

For one, she was kinda stunned. Not really knowing how to react, she looked at Deuce and sputtered out a nervous laugh.

"Wow, okay. Wow." is all she said for the moment. Raising her hands in defeat, she smiled and shrugged. "You got me, you got me there." She pointed up at him as if he was an old friend and a merry prankster.

Whatever, it would have gotten her into trouble anyway. Crisis avoided. She noticed that a handful of people were beginning to trickle into the room, hanging around the doorway.

"Yeah, I got you. You shoulda seen your face." He laughed along with her, but his laugh seemed genuine unlike hers.

A few more people joined the classroom, and following suit, Yuu straightened up in her chair, taking note that the merman… could she call him a merman? Anyway, Floyd took his chair away. It was time for class. She would just have to roll with it, sit through all of the things she already knew, and navigate the unfortunate proximity to the classmate who knew no boundaries.

"Uh-huh. You got me…" she echoed to herself in a whisper.

<<previous chapter>>

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#twst floyd #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland #floyd leech #floyd x reader #floyd x oc

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allegra-writes · 3 years

Text

"Bad Together"

Part I: Contact

Peter Parker x Reader

Teen and up

Warnings: language, UST.

"Baby, I'm preying on you tonight

Hunt you down, eat you alive

Just like animals"

Animals - Maroon 5

“Hey kid! Rough night? You look like shit…”

You sighed, turning away from your door to face your neighbour. Had it been anyone else, you would just have given them the finger and gotten inside your apartment. But not her. Not when she could have information for you.

“Gee, thanks Jess! You do know how to sweet talk a girl.”

The seemingly -deceptively- fragile brunette’s eyeroll could have rivaled your own signature one, as she kicked away from the wall and crossed the hallway in your direction.

“As if sweet talking would work on you…”

Despite your exhaustion and bad mood, you managed to munster a small sad smile as your mind wandered unbidden to another time, to what felt like another life.

And to a boy with warm brown eyes and even warmer skin.

"You'd be surprised…"

Jessica raised a questioning eyebrow, but you just shook your head.

"I have your payment, if that's what you're looking for…"

You said, changing the subject. Her face fell, causing your heart to drop to your stomach. You knew that look. The regret in her green eyes, the pity. You knew what she was going to say even before she opened her mouth. It wasn't really surprising after all: fourteen months without any clues, without any new developments or witnesses? She wanted to drop the case.

"Listen, kid-"

"No" you cut her off, your voice breaking no arguments, "whatever you're going to say, I won't accept it. I pay you, and you keep on looking for my sister. That's how this works. Let's not fuck this beautiful friendship of ours up."

You added, only partly sarcastic. You were perfectly aware that, as closed off and damaged as you both were, you were probably the closest thing to a friend either of you had.

And, for her part, Jessica knew that, if she didn't do the dirty work for you, you would be the one crawling up vents and climbing up balconies, sliding your way into seedy bars and even seedier alleys. You were stubborn like that. And truth be told, she had grown a little protective of you.

She pursed her lips, the wheels turning inside her head.

"Well then," she finally proposed, "What about you pay me when I actually find something worth paying for?"

It took your drowsy brain a moment to process her words. You were ashamed of the moisture that found its way to your eyes, the knot in your throat that didn't allow you to let out anything more than a weak "Jessica" as a reply. But you were too worn out to be able to keep the emotions at bay. It had been too long since anyone had shown you that type of kindness, gratefulness was not something you were used to feeling.

"I'm not giving up on the case," she promised, "but I'm not taking your money anymore. At least not until I deserve it."

She was telling the truth, you knew her enough to be able to tell that. If anything, she was going to work even harder to try and get the investigation moving.

"Thank you."

You really meant it.

"Don't mention it” she shrugged, downplaying it, like every good deed she made. "Now get inside and get some sleep. You look dead."

You did roll your eyes at that, missing her affectionate smirk as you disappeared through the door, muttering a laconic. "Yes, mom."

The darkness and quiet that greeted you inside your apartment felt like a soothing balm to your over stimulated mind, a much needed respite after your long, adrenaline filled evening. That was why you didn't even bother to turn the lights on as you let your backpack fall anywhere on the tile floor, stepping out of your sneakers and pulling your shirt over your head.

The cold early morning breeze sent goosebumps along your skin, bringing your attention to the open window.

You froze. You were always very careful not to let any windows open, Hell's Kitchen was a tough neighbourhood for a spoiled cat like your Selina to be out and about.

A flash of movement at the corner of your eye was all you needed before your senses went haywire again, instinct kicking in as you jumped high in the air to twirl and land a kick to the back of whoever was in your apartment. But the intruder was expecting it, dodging just in time and turning around to block your punch. Getting a hold of your wrist, the dark figure twisted and pulled you forwards until you fell, back flushed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around yours in a vice-like grip, effectively immobilizing you.

"Easy there, Smokey." A way too familiar voice breathed against your ear, "you're going to hurt yourself."

You stopped struggling against his grasp. Right. Of course it was him.

"Peter?"

His grip grew tighter for a moment, before letting go.

"Hello, Y/N."

Just like that, it all came back to you: The memories you had tried to repress, the feelings you had tried so hard to bury, washing over you like a flood, a tsunami hitting you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs once again. As you took an unsteady step away from him, you prayed that Peter hadn't noticed.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice place," Peter ignored your question, choosing to casually pace your living room instead. "Bit of a downgrade from the upper west side, though…"

"Fine," you scoffed, turning to him, "you wanna do small talk? Let's do small talk: what’s with the edgelord look?" You pointed at his tar-black suit.

"Biotech," the suit retracted from his face and head, reminding you of the nanobots suit he used to wear before Dr. Octopus destroyed it. "Do you like it?"

You shrugged,

"Stark industries?"

He shook his head.

"Horizon Lab."

Well, that was interesting. You knew the little, independent company owned by one of his ex-girlfriends had helped him manufacture a couple of special suits developed from his very own webs, after his emancipation from the Starks. But you had no idea they had reached such level of refinement, and you had a feeling neither did Fury.

"You like it?"

"You look… taller," You noted. That wasn't the only difference; his hair was longer, wilder, his shoulders wider, his arms far bigger than you recalled.

"You look exactly the same," he countered, as open as he had always been. "Just as beautiful as I remembered…"

You sighed, tiredly. You didn't have the energy for that — for his charm, his candidness. What was more, you weren't prepared at all.

No, you weren't prepared for this Peter. Your Peter. Not after what all that Fury had told you…

"What do you want, Peter?"

He leveled you with a look, his whole demeanor changing in the blink of an eye.

"I could ask you the exact same thing…"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Y/N. Don't play dumb with me, it doesn't suit you." His sudden bluntness surprised you, but it was more along the lines of what Fury had warned you to expect so it didn't completely manage to throw you off.

You crossed your arms, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really, now?" Peter took a step forward, towering over you. "You don't? Hanging out at my spots, patrolling my neighbourhood, taking down my thugs?" He enumerated.

"Your thugs?"

"The kingpin is mine," he growled.

"Since when?"

"You fucking know since when!" You tried to hide your flinch at his rising tone, but he must have noticed because a moment later, he was closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, visibly trying to get a hold of himself.

"I thought Queens was your neighbourhood…" You spoke, trying to diffuse the tension after a couple beats had passed without him moving.

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, opening his eyes, "I relocated."

"So did I…"

"You did," he smiled. And just like that, he was back at being your Peter. "And you mean to tell me all of this." He pressed a button in his wrist, "isn't to get my attention?"

A hologram version of Jade's video started to play in front of your impassive eyes. And you might have thought your carefully constructed mask of indifference gave away nothing, but Peter could see right through it. You didn't seem surprised to see the video and that alone was enough proof for him to confirm his theory.

"Please, Smokey, security footage?" He smirked, "this isn't like you. You aren't this sloppy."

Another click and the video was gone.

"Well, this might come as a surprise to you, but everything isn't always about you."

"Then what's going on?"

"None of your fucking business!"

Before you could react, the floor disappeared from under your feet, and your back hitted the wall with enough force to rattle the windows.

"Like hell it isn't," Peter hissed, his weight pinning you upright. "Now tell me, what the fuck did you get yourself into this time?"

As you stared into his stormy eyes, heart racing inside your chest, unsure if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was because of the obvious threat in front of you, or for another reason entirely, you wondered exactly the same.

Your tongue came out to moist your lips, Peter's dark pupils following the movement.

"It's been over a year," you breathed out, all the fight leaving you. It was too much, his sweet breath fanning over your face, every inch of his hard body pressed up against yours, overpowering you, the slick texture of his new suit against your bare chest… it was intoxicating. You had overestimated yourself. "Why do you even care?"

"I will always care about you," he confessed softly, just as affected by the closeness as you. "I will always want you…"

You closed your eyes, trying to get your erratic heart under control.

"Maybe I don't want you anymore, Peter."

He pushed you harder against the wall, his forearm against your collarbone to prevent you from moving.

"Don't do that," he whispered, lips ghosting over yours. "Don't torture me."

"Peter…"

BAM.

You fell to your knees, hard, Peter's body suddenly no longer supporting your weight.

"Touch her again, and I'll kill you!"

"J-Jess?"

"Hey, kid. You alright?" Your neighbour barely even spared you a glance over her shoulder as she placed herself between you and a newly irate looking Peter, slowly getting up from the rumble of splinters of wood and shards of glass that used to be your coffee table.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in confusion.

"I heard a noise," she deadpanned, eyes never leaving the dark cladded vigilante. But to your surprise Peter merely raised his hands in surrender, the bulk of his rage vanishing the moment he understood the woman in front of him was only trying to protect you.

"This isn't what it looks like…" He tried to explain, but Jessica would have none of it.

"Yeah, sure" she scoffed. "Big guy, totally dressed, pinning a half naked girl to the wall in the dark... totally not rapey."

Peter flinched. She was right, he wouldn't believe himself either.

"Listen, you're Jessica Jones, right?" Recognizing the woman in front of him, suddenly your choice in real state made a lot more sense. "I am- I was," he quickly corrected himself, "Peter Parker. Your friend, Matt Murdock, he knows me… look, I'm not- I'm not a bad guy."

Even to his ears, he sounded unconvincing.

"Really?" Jess pointed at his black costume, "Cause you definitely look like a bad guy."

"I… Y/n, help me out here," he threw you a pleading look but Jess moved to the side, blocking you from view.

"Hey, fuckface!" She snapped, drawing Peter's attention back to her, "the only reason I'm not kicking your ass right now is because of Matt. But if I ever see you next to Y/N ever again, I'll break every single bone of your body. Twice. Now get the fuck out of here, before I run out of fucking patience."

"Y/N?"

You sighed, getting up. Away from him, and with Jess there as a boofer between the both of you, you were no longer under the influence and could clearly see exactly how fucked up the situation was.

"I think you should leave, Peter."

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a mask of indolence as he squared his jaw and turned away, letting the bio-suit close over his head again.

"I looked for her too, you know?" He admitted, before making his exit through the same window he had come in from.

You had no time to dwell on his words or anything of what had just happened, before Jess was on your face.

"That was Peter? Your sister's boyfriend, the one you told me I didn't need to investigate?"

You resisted the urge to shrink under her look,

"Yeah…"

"You told me he was harmless. That did not look harmless!"

You couldn't really argue with that, so you didn't. Instead you gestured at her to be quiet, as you reached past her to pick up your phone, your landline phone, the one you had never bothered connecting.

The one you knew was bugged.

With voice as clear and steady as you were able to manage, you spoke into the mic,

"Contact made. Awaiting further instructions."

To be continued...

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catzula · 3 years

Text

It’s hard NOT to be a fangirl (especially when the setter is Oikawa Tooru)

A/N: is it evident how much in love I am with this man? I cried at his backstory, I did that. Well, uh, hope you enjoy! And I have a mountain of hw and exams coming up so I might not be able to write something so thats that.

Warnings: spoilers!!! For the spring tournament so beware. Cursing? 5.9k? Oikawa crying in the end? Its NOT angst tho. Also not edited cuz its 1 am

Genre: fluff, Iwaizumi's sister!reader

Synopsis: maybe confusing you with a fangirl wasn't exactly starting off the right foot, but Oikawa thought the stranger that sat with him till the beginning of his next match was... quite charming.

Oikawa might've been many, many things, but he was not a coward.

Most of the time, at least.

Whenever it was his feelings he had to be brave about, he never succeeded, especially not when they were towards you. You, who laughed and stood with him, never across but always beside him. Oikawa couldn't afford to be brave.

It was the first day of the Interhigh matches when he had met you. To say Oikawa was having a bad day would be an underestimation. He got dumped by his girlfriend that very day, right before his match, and brutally ripped out of the soft, consoling presence of his fans by Iwaizumi. He just wanted to be fawned over and comforted, maybe eat a snack or two while he was at it, but he didn't even get to do that?

"Stop pouting, Shittykawa." Iwaizumi muttered when Oikawa made an exaggerated 'hmph!' sound for the 20th time the last 5 minutes. "We need to go to the gym, and you need to focus."

"You need to focus too!" Oikawa protested, "but look at you getting ready to go to a date- hey, agh!" Holding the back of his head, Oikawa pouted even deeper this time. "You didn't need to hit me!" Oikawa whisper-yelled.

"I told you to shut the fuck up. Hold your tongue if you don't want to get beaten." Iwaizumi whispered angrily, sending a side glance at his coach to try and see if he had heard stupid Oikawa. Iwaizumi took a breath of relief when the coach didn't even look his way.

"We're gonna sit in the back stands so coach won't be able to see us. You can still watch the game from there, too." Iwaizumi finally spoke after they arrived in the gym, eyes scanning the room to find the perfect hiding place.

"You mean I am gonna sit in the back stands, all alone, cold and freshly dumped." Oikawa frowned, his frown only growing deeper when his best friend rolled his eyes. "Am I wrong? Tell me I'm wrong! As you go on your marry way with your girlfriend, I will be sitting here alone and wallow in my sadness for what... 6 hours?!"

Iwaizumi clenched his teeth, knowing Oikawa had a point. Sighing, he rubbed his temples. "Look, fuck, I'm sorry, okay? Should I tell her I can't come?" He asked gruffly, and despite all his brutality and harsh words, Oikawa knew he would do it if he said the word. "Nah, it's okay. Have fun in your date!" Oikawa answered, earning a baffled glare from the boy.

"Then why the fuck have you been guilt tripping me the past hour?"

"I'm lonely, Iwa-chan! I want attention." Oikawa grinned, professionally avoiding the slap coming his way, his grin growing even wider when Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. " I wonder how I didn't murder you already. Anyway, settle there, and don't move anywhere until the match. And I mean, anywhere, no visiting your fans, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, taking selfies before the windows, nothing."

"Okay, okay, I'm not dumb!" Oikawa whined as he threw his gym bag on the free seats. "Say hi to her for me, Iwa-chan!" He called after his best friend.

~~~

It had been almost an hour since Iwa had left, and Oikawa was losing his mind. Why did he agree to this again? He wanted to sit with the rest of his team, that sat across the court but Iwaizumi had told him not to move anywhere (and Oikawa was still a bit hurt at how grateful they seemed when Iwa had told them Oikawa would be sitting separately), so he had opted to social media.

Oikawa wasn't aware of someone else entering the secret back stands and getting closer to him as he watched a short compilation of cat videos. "Oikawa-kun?" You approached him, hiding your snicker when he jumped in his place to look at you. He was quick to hide his shock, a mask of smugness quickly finding its place on his pretty face.

"That's me." He smiled, his chocolate eyes scanning you and meeting your eyes back quickly. He watched as you sat a seat away from him, close but not approachable. He quirked his brow when you stood quiet, holding your phone a little too tightly. A shy fan, how sweet, he thought, smirking as he turned your way. He had an idea of what you wanted.

"Did you, perhaps, want a photo? I might not look as I normally would, though." Oikawa suggested, going by how you held your phone, checking the time every once in a while, you wanted a picture. His brows raised when you didn't say a word but bit your lip as if holding in a smile.

"That's your que to say 'no, Oikawa-kun, you look amazing!" He told you, not expecting your laugh to ring in his ears, baffled both by how sudden and how pretty the sound was. "No, you do look tired, actually." You finally answered, earning a gasp from the boy across you.

"Oh, to think I was going to see the days of my fans calling me tired-looking and ugly!" He dramatically brought his hand to his face, peeking through his fingers to see what you were going to do. You should at least deny he looked ugly, he thought, but his eyes grew wide when you chuckled. Now you were just rude! Did he really look that bad?

"Sorry, I'm not a fan." You pressed your lips in an apologetic smile, trying to hold it sorry and not smug when you spotted the blush on his cheeks. "Oh- I thought..." He cleared his throat to hide the embarrassment. "Most of the pretty girls like you who aproach me are my fans, so I just assumed." He spoke when he finally managed to find back his high-toned, flirty persona.

"That crowd of groupies in the entrance should belong to you, too, then?" You teased, not expecting him to answer yes, bursting into laughter with the unexpected positive answer.

"I kind of have to ask, though, if you're not my fan, why did you approach me, calling my name?" He seemed nonchalant as if he was used to that, but you had to admit it was a bit creepy.

"Oh, Haji- Iwaizumi sent me." You corrected yourself when you remembered how your brother had told you not to tell Oikawa you were siblings (he had warned you about how flirtatious Oikawa could get, and he might see it as a challenge if he figured you were his best friend's sibling. You didn't think it was true, they were best friends after all, but it was better to be cautious anyway.

"Iwa-chan? Ah, so he does care after all!" Oikawa blurted out, his words reminding how your brother had sent you here and how it was something way different than caring. "Well, he did want me to make sure you didn't leave here or call your ex. Heard you had some... problems."

"Cold as a stone, as always." He sighed, and you chuckled. "Can't exactly call it a problem, but being dumped isn't the best feeling in the world." He shrugged, taking a sip out of his water before flashing you a charming smile. Your brows furrowed when he admitted he was dumped, of course, Hajime had already told you that, but judging the boy by his looks, his nonchalant acts, and everything your brother had told to warn you, you hadn't expected him to admit that, especially not to a stranger.

"Well, uh, that sucks." You answered awkwardly, not knowing how to approach the situation. "I'm sorry about that."

"Its okay, as it was bound to happen, anyway. Our relationship wasn't exactly sailing smoothly." He shrugged, but it was evident he was a bit broken about it. "I- uh, I'm not the person people would come for advice in these kind of situations, but I can... listen?"

You felt something warm blooming in your chest when his gaze locked on you, chocolate brown eyes the prettiest you've ever seen, but the surprised, almost grateful look was what made you feel that way. Did he only want someone to listen?

"It's okay, I don't want to burden you with my stupid problems." He chuckled, pulling his playful nature back on the surface. "I don't even know your name."

"Oh, shit, you're right!" You laughed when you realized you hadn't even told him your name but had offered a shoulder to cry on. "I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." You stuck your hand out, his warm (big-) hand gripping yours and causing that warm feeling that was in your chest to spread even more.

"Y/N-chan, it's very nice to meet you." He winked. "So, what is your relationship with our dearest Iwa-chan?"

"Oh- well, uh... you could say he sees me as a sister." You shrugged, not expecting him to pout sympathetically. "Oh no, sibling-zoned? That's harsh, man."

"No it's- hey, you have no right to pity me, you're the one freshly dumped!"

"Hitting low, are we?" He laughed, making you laugh with him. "You look like you're gonna die if you don't ask me how we broke up." He sighed after a second, although he still had a playful smirk. "I guess I have to tell you." He sighed one more time. "We're stuck here for at least 5 hours, anyway."

~~~

"Here you go, a granola bar. Are you sure you didn't want anything else?" You tossed the granola bar to Oikawa, who had his legs on the seats in front of him, making himself comfortable in the uncomfortable seats.

"Yeah, that's enough. Thank you, Y/N-chan." He smiled cheekily, opening the packet with his teeth. "The match is in about an hour, anyway, I shouldn't eat much."

"Sure, whatever you say. Well you were talking about a new player before I left."

"Before your stomach started to scream, you mean." He laughed, and you found yourself watching the smile. These past few hours had flown by so quickly that it almost felt like barely an hour. Oikawa was easy to talk to, and you always found something new to talk about, laughing almost at everything he said. He was really charming, and the confidence that oozed out of every move he did, every word he spoke was attractive, you had to admit.

But as much of a smug player he could be, he often acted childish, too, especially when he talked about a certain Kouhei of his did you see the childlike jealousy and competitiveness clearly. Though despite that, he would have a fond, soft look in his eyes whenever he talked about his teammates, making you feel almost jealous at how affectionate he looked about them.

You knew he was charming and flirtatious, your brother had warned you not to get close because he could and would have you falling for him in no time, but you had underestimated him. You had thought he was acting overly cautious as always, but apparently not.

You saw him checking his phone for a new message. "I gotta go warm up now." He told you as he stood up, the playful glint in his eyes not being missed by you. "I trust you'll watch and cheer for me, right, Y/N-chan?" His smirk was self-satisfied, already knowing the answer, but you didn't want to give him the pleasure. "I'd rather cheer for the ace, actually, much cooler than a setter."

Another dramatic gasp came from the proud setter, making you laugh. "How dare you! Setters are much cooler than aces, I'll have you know. I'll prove it in this match, too." He leaned towards you, and although you already knew how long he was, having him towering over you like this sent goosebumps down your spine. "I'll prove it, just make sure you watch closely."

~~~

"So, was I right or was I right?" Your phone chimed with a new message, and you instantly knew who it was that sent the message. You opened Instagram, accepting the message request.

"I couldn't tell since I was watching the ace the whole time, didn't have the chance to see if you were cooler." You texted back, almost able to see the pout forming on his lips on the other side of the screen. It was a lie, too. The moment you saw his serve, you were unable to take your eyes off him. He looked like a different person on the court. It was almost scary, how focused he suddenly became the moment he grabbed the ball, how he was aware of everything that was happening around him, developing strategies half you didn't even understand and it was terrifyingly beautiful, you had to admit.

"Mean! And I had played exceptionally well just because you were watching :(" You giggled at the text, not noticing how your brother's eyes were narrowed and turned to you instead of the TikToks his girlfriend had sent him. "Who are you talking to?"

"Hm?" You flinched, so concentrated on your phone, you had forgotten your brother was there, too. "Oh, no one. My friend sent me a meme." You stared back at your brother, who was still watching you with narrowed eyes, waiting for you to crack, but you didn't. He nodded curtly, and though he could've pursued it further if not for his phone starting to buzz, the name of his girlfriend appearing on the screen.

"Gotta take this." He told you, standing up and making his way to his room. "Don't stay up late texting." He told you as a warning.

You wished you had taken your brother's advice the next morning when he came in to wake you up. You had texted Oikawa for hours into the night, only stopping when you fell asleep mid-conversation.

"Y/N, I need you to come to the sport center again, today." Hajime told you as you were brushing your teeth, and he was putting gel in his hair to make it look like his signature spiky style. "Again?" You rolled your eyes, earning a soft slap on your head from your brother.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, and don't roll your eyes at me."

"I'll do whatever I- Ow! Okay, okay, I'll be there!" You muttered angrily, but a part of you, the smallest part of you, wasn't as angry as you showed him to be.

~~~

You were there before him, this time. It had been almost 10 minutes since you had arrived, but Oikawa was nowhere to be seen (and you got ready especially neatly this time! What a shame). You sighed, opening your phone to text Hajime Oikawa wasn't here just as you felt a pair of warm hands closing your eyes from your back.

"Quick, tell me the coolest volleyball position!"

"Ace!" You answered and heard his exaggerated sigh. "No, Y/N-chan, I thought we clarified this yesterday!"

"I never admitted to it, though." You told him with a sly smile, causing his fake anger and annoyance to fall and a laugh to breakthrough. "Clever little Y/N-chan." He muttered, plopping down to the seat next to you.

"You look tired." You remarked, making him gasp. "And whose fault is that? You fell asleep! I waited an hour for you to write back, thinking you had something else to do." He frowned, making you chuckle.

"I take none of the blame, you talk too much." You teased.

"Only with people I like." He shot back, catching you off guard and making your eyes widen. "Ah, finally, I won this round!" He cheered. "You, on the other hand, look especially nice today, madame."

"Thank you, kind sir, I got a good night sleep, unlike you." You smiled cheekily, and he was about to answer before loud cheering filled the room and made you wince. You noticed how almost everyone was on their feet, watching the game closely.

"What's going on?" You asked the boy sitting next to you, now also watching the game with a Cheshire cat smirk.

"Karasuno's game started." He answered without taking his eyes off the game. "It was the freakish quick they used just then that caused the cheering."

"The freakish quick?" You repeated.

"Yeah, watch." He told you, sounding excited and annoyed at the same time. You turned your eyes to where he was pointing at, a short, ginger boy. Your brows furrowed, trying to understand just why-

"Oh, shit." You gaped when the boy flew over the court in mere seconds. The ball was on the other side of the net in almost less than a second, and it took you a moment to realize they had just made a spike.

"Oh shit, indeed," Oikawa answered, his smirk still on his lips, but his eyes weren't looking humored. "That little bastard, he had to be this fucking talented." He muttered, speaking almost to himself.

"You don't look worried, though." You smiled. "There is no reason for me to be worried." He smirked proudly in answer, although it had a slight waver to it. "I'm much better than him as a setter. What worries me is the team itself."

"Are they that good? You looked much better in the match yesterday."

"Ah, I knew you were watching me, Y/N-chan! I'm too pretty not to look at." He swiped a soft-looking lock of hair out of his face with a playful smile.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." You muttered, hiding your embarrassment from him by turning back to the game. "See him, the short boy in the back, he's the libero." Oikawa told you, getting slightly closer to explain, and you would've understood it if it wasn't for how close he was all of a sudden. "He's one of the best I've seen, actually."

"W-what makes him so special?" You asked, turning your eyes back to the game from his pretty face (as if he wasn't handsome enough, he also had a good side profile?!) "That." he answered, his eyes glinting with something you could say awe. You turned back to the boy who leaped to the ground after the ball, his hand sliding over the surface and sending the ball straight up. "His reflexes are unbeleivable, and he's fast and smart, like the rest of his team." He explained further, not aware of how focused he suddenly was, and it was clear he was passionate about the sport. You had never understood why your brother felt devastated after a lost game, or why he was cheering on the top of his lungs, sometimes pushing himself so hard in training that he passed out, coming home late almost every day because of his practice.

But seeing Oikawa watch the game, seeing him in the game, you felt like you could understand what it was. You could never grasp the feeling, but you could understand what it was. And it was infuriating, made you jealous, and you couldn't understand why, but it also amazed you, making you yearn for the strange feeling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must be boring you to death." He realized, bringing his hand to scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment, cheeks flushing slightly after talking for almost an hour about everything going in the game, explaining them all in detail.

"No, no its fine!" You answered, laughing at his flushed face. It was funny how he was a charming, devilish, smart, and manipulative guy at one second and a volleyball geek the other. "It helps me appreciate the game better." You shrugged, not aware of how his eyes glinted with your answer. "But don't you think I realized how you're overlooking everything the setter does. You didn't say anything about him."

"What, you're interested in him?" He pouted, causing you to laugh.

"I didn't say I was interested, I'm just telling you you're ignoring him!" You protested after your laugh, but he still had a frown. "Sounds like you're interested, to me."

"No! Okay, okay, keep ignoring him, then. But don't think I missed the jelaousy-" You couldn't finish your sentence because of a sudden hand closing on your lips. "Nope, we don't say that here." He whispered, and somehow, you were able to hear him despite the loud cheering, the crowd, and the loud thumps of your heart.

"What, saying you're jealous?" You spoke beneath his fingers, noticing how his smirk grew wider and cheeks flushing pinker.

"Yep, let's not repeat that and I'll take my hand off you." He waited a few seconds as you stood silent, removing his hand, still having a suspicious look in his eyes. "Good girl." He told you, causing your eyes to widen and shout a protest. "O-oikawa! What the fuck?!"

"What, I didn't mean anything?" He answered innocently, but there was still a smirk on his lips. "Well, okay, I'll tell you about him if you're so curious." He sighed.

"As I said before, he's my Kouhei." You nodded for him to go on. "He's... talented. Very talented. A genius, actually." He laughed uncomfortably. "He's not on my level yet, but his talent... it even makes up for it and I hate to see how despite all my days I spent training, he's still better than me easily."

"I- oh." You muttered, not expecting something like this, especially for him to admit someone else was better than him and will always be better than him.

"Tomorrow we're playing with them." He told you, and despite the forced smile, you could see how he clenched his teeth. "I can't- I won't lose to him."

"You won't." You agreed.

"I'll fight as hard as I can but we won't lose to them. I'll fight Shiratorizawa, I'll play against Ushiwaka and show him, prove him I did the right thing by choosing Seijoh and not his dumb school." He looked determined, eyes glinting with such determination that even though you had no idea what he was saying at that point, you wanted to agree and cheer him on.

"You will." You agreed once again, causing him to smile. "I'm sorry, I think I'm just a bit stressed."

You smiled, shrugging as if to say it's nothing. "No, no problem, I understand what you mean. It must be nerve-wracking."

"Well, it is."

"I'm horrible at advice, but uh, want me to show you what I do when I'm stressed? Like before exams and stuff. It might help." You smiled, extending your hand out to show him, not expecting him to do the same, and hold your hand like a handshake.

"You're right, that does help." He grinned, shaking your hand and making you burst into laughter. "That wasn't what I was going to do!"

"Oh, it wasn't? Still helped, though!" He told you innocently, teasing you even more. "C'mon, stick your hand out like this." You giggled.

"Now start drawing-" you told him, focusing on drawing shapes and letters in his hand. He was going to say a snarky remark at how that wasn't how it went, but Oikawa couldn't bring himself to stop you from doing whatever you were doing as he watched you focus on his hand, fingers running over his calloused ones, the tip of your tongue sticking out from the corner of your mouth without realizing, and every move of your finger sent goosebumps down his body.

Noticing you had lost yourself in thought, absent-mindedly going on drawing on his hand for a good few minutes, you raised your eyes to meet his brown ones. "Does that... help?"

"It- uh, it does. I'll need you to do this before the game tomorrow, too, though." He smirked playfully, his hand closing on yours just as he said it. "Well, I'm glad I could help." You shrugged, trying to hide how embarrassed you were. You could tell he already knew how you were feeling by the smile on his lips, but instead of teasing you about it, he turned to the game without letting your hand go, smiling even wider when you didn't pull it, either.

~~~

"You guys were great at the game today." You texted Oikawa that night, not sure whether he would answer, though your thoughts disappeared when he texted back instantly.

"It must be your doing." He wrote, sending a picture of him doing the peace sign right after.

"I don't think I can come early tomorrow, though. I won't be able to do it again. Are you ready for the game tomorrow?"

"Oh no, how could you? I can never overcome the stress now. Will you let me call you if I say I'm not ready?" He texted back, making you chuckle.

"Just this once."

Your phone started ringing right after, a 'yahoo' greeting you when you picked it up.

"Hi, Oikawa-kun."

"Are you free?" He asked, and you shrugged as if he was across you and not on the other side of the phone. "I was getting ready to bed."

"Thinking of me before bed, you must have a crush on me, Y/N-chan." He chuckled, somehow still able to tease you through the phone. "Hey, I-"

"No, actually, don't answer that." He stopped you. "I had something else in mind when I called you, but you cute voice is too distracting." He sighed.

"Oh." You answered, making him laugh, his laugh ringing in your ears.

"Yeah, well... I was wondering, I mean after the match tomorrow." He cleared his throat. "No, actually, will you cheer for me tomorrow?" He finally asked, and you could tell he was holding his breath.

"Cheer for you?" You repeated.

"Yeah, only- only for me." He spoke, this time merely a whisper. "I mean, of course you cheer for me, everyone does because I'm that-"

"Yes, Oikawa." You laughed and cut his self appreciating ramble off. "I'll cheer for you, and only you."

"Y-you will? Well then, maybe you'll accept my offer to perhaps grab a coffee or something after the game? To make up for not being there with me tomorrow?" You were trying to stifle a laugh at how unsmooth he was despite his reputation when he spoke again. "Am I- am I pushing it? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, you're not making me uncomfortable!" You protested quickly, already aware of how dramatic he could get. "I'm just, well, surprised. But yes, I'd like to grab a coffee with you. Anywhere but those god awful stands, actually." You chuckled, hearing the relieved breathe coming from his side of the line.

"Well, if that's settled," he spoke, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Tell me, Y/N-chan, what's your favorite color?"

Wow, you thought, he really sucked at flirting.

~~~

"I'm here." You texted both your brother and Oikawa. It was merely minutes away from the start of the game, all because of a dumb chemistry quiz you had at school. You finally found a free seat when you noticed they were done warming up and were getting ready.

"Good, we're about to start the game. I'll probably meet my gf after the game, so don't start crying if you don't see me." Was the first text you got, rolling your eyes at how much of an idiot your brother was. "Yeah, whatever, not like I'm here to see you." You texted back, noticing how his head perked up when he read the text, eyes scanning the seats to find you as he texted a "WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?!"

"Wish me luck, Y/N-chan, just remember your promise to cheer for me ;p" Oikawa texted back, also raising his head to search you in the crowd, but he was successful at finding you, eyes locking for a second, of course, he sent a playful wink at you.

The game started after that, and you could swear you were losing years of your life with each given and taken points. You had screamed at the top of your lungs at one point, so worked up, you sometimes forgot what was happening.

"Oikawa, good serve!" You screamed (he had told you to say that when he was serving the day before, and you could see it immediately brought a smile on his lips).

The third set was the worst, you thought. No one ever got to widen the point gap, always one of them at match point, points being given and being taken, and you were sure you were going to lose your mind if they-

You watched as Oikawa ran to receive a ball, running so fast that he was unable to stop himself from crashing into the table, falling on his bad knee that you could only imagine how much it hurt, but not before pointing at Hajime, your brother, the ace. He set an incredible ball for him, incredible even for someone like you who didn't know anything other than the basics about volleyball.

You could feel tears swelling in your eyes as he tumbled into the table, pulling himself back up almost immediately and limping back towards the court.

He was... he was determined to win.

But he couldn't.

You watched as Oikawa tried to receive the ball flying towards him and failed. You couldn't watch when he realized he failed. He lost. But he was still there to make his teammates gather for the lineup, patting them on the back to cheer them up, thanking the crowd, but his face was down, helping his teammates collect themselves back, your brother too when he was also devastated inside.

Still, Oikawa managed to hold it all in, unlike your brother and most of the team that was crying. You couldn't hide your disappointment in, either, eyes already wet with tears because you thought they were going to win, and they thought they were going to win too, and seeing Oikawa like this, it hurt. You watched them as they left the court, your eyes following the brunette who had separated himself from the rest of the team, going somewhere else with a quick pace.

You rose to your feet without even realizing it, running after him without thinking what to say or to do, but you just wanted to be there, and you were so focused on finding him that you hadn't realized Hajime following his friend or rather, you, either.

You were about to enter the room Oikawa had entered a minute before you when someone held you by the arm and pulled you back. "Y/N, don't." Your brother warned you, and maybe you should've listened since they were friends for years. "It's not- you shouldn't go in, not right now. Give him time."

He sighed when you freed your arm from his grip. "He wouldn't want you to-" the door shut in his face, and he only got a glimpse of his best friend's tear-stricken face, "-see him like that." Iwaizumi finished his sentence as a whisper to himself.

You thought this might've been a bad idea the moment you entered the room. "O-oikawa?"

"What are you doing here?" You heard him say, the room dim-litted, making it near impossible to see his expression, but something in you told you, you didn't want to. "I'm- well, I'm here to see if you're okay-"

"Get out." You heard him say, merely a whisper but still there. "I don't want you to see me like this, stop looking at me! I don't want to see the same pity I see at everyone else's face, pitying me for losing to my own Kouhei and-" His voice getting higher and higher with each word, he was almost screaming the last few words. So you hugged him, you didn't know what led you to do so, was it instinct to relieve his tension? You didn't know, but it still worked, you noticed.

His stiff muscles started to relax with the sudden contact, and though he stood as still as a stone, not hugging you back, you didn't feel rejected. "Shh, I know." You whispered, breathe brushing over his skin and sending goosebumps down his spine.

"We lost." He whispered, a sob finding its way out of his lips. His arms came up, hugging and pulling you to himself, almost as if he tried to swallow you whole, burying his face to your hair. He was big, much bigger than you, for sure, so the sobs that shook him shook you, too, but you didn't mind.

"We lost." He sobbed again, and again, and again and again. It took him a while to let it all out, but he felt better when he did. His arms were still around you when his cries had died, your scent affecting him to relax.

"Thank you." You heard him whisper as he pulled back, not looking in your eyes once. "Of- of course." You shrugged, feeling somewhat awkward as he wiped his face with a tissue.

"Well," he spoke, looking in your eyes for the first time for what felt like hours, "that's me. The Oikawa Tooru. Now you know me better than almost anyone else." He shrugged, trying to sound and look indifferent but failing miserably. His voice and his hands shaking, eyes looking at you with almost fear.

"Are you going to leave now?"

"Leave?" You repeated.

He shrugged. "Now that you've seen I'm not the clever captain or the charming playboy, but a- an insecure, jealous man, who is now also a failure, are you going to leave?"

"Oikawa," you whispered, noticing he was more insecure than he let on. "Just because you are more than what you look like, it doesn't cancel the others. You're still the smart, cunning, and amazing captain, the charming flirt who made me fall for him in mere days, and the man who lost a match with a point. A man, striving to be better than everyone else, with goals and a purpose in life. I don't think I could leave you for having a purpose in life." You chuckled.

"Well, that of course if you-" Before you got to finish, you felt pressure on your lips, stopping you from talking. It was his soft lips, this time, making you silent. It was a soft kiss, his hand cupping your cheek and pulling your face towards his, his lips were almost brushing yours, but it still felt heavenly.

"I think we should go before your brother marches in and kills us both." He whispered to your lips with a sly smile. "Yeah, I think you're- wait, you knew he was my brother?!" You exclaimed, making him chuckle.

"Of course I did, who do you take me for? I am the clever captain of Seijoh, I knew it the moment you told me you were like a sister to him."

"Well, the clever captain of Seijoh, use your brain to find us another way out but the door, since I'm pretty sure Haji is guarding it."

"Ah, I have the perfect idea." He snickered, picking up his phone, and entering the name of Hajime's girlfriend.

"Tooru, where are you, are you okay, do you-"

"Hey, hey, I'm alright, I just need a favor." Oikawa whispered into the phone. "I'm stuck inside a room, and the door is being guarded by Iwa-chan whose waiting to kill me, so please get him out of here?"

"Tooru, are you with a girl?" You heard the voice screaming on the other end of the line, making you both wince. "Please just help me just this once?"

You heard her sigh. "Okay, okay, hang in there." She closed the phone, and it took only two seconds for your brother's phone to ring.

You were in awe when Hajime suddenly screamed, "What?! Whose checking you out? I'm fucking coming baby, don't move anywhere." sprinting down the hall.

"You're a magician."

"I'm amazing." He muttered right before leaning in for yet another kiss, smiling against your soft lips.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #oikawa scenarios #oikawa tooru x reader #hq oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa fluff #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x you #haikyuu!!

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erensproudsimp · 3 years

Text

Confession

Jean kirschtein x reader Oneshot

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Summary : You didn't want to admit your feelings to Jean in fear of losing him until tables were turned.

"I wonder how much everyone changed after all this time", you said staring at the moving landscape through the windshield.

"I'm pretty sure there's a lot to catch up with friends you haven't met since one year", Annie replied from the driver's seat.

"I bet Historia and Ymir must be dating by now", you chuckled.

"That wouldn't be much of a shocker to me to be honest", Annie added face straight at the road.

It's been one year since your friend group graduated university and because everyone was preoccupied with their individual lives, y'all didn't have the opportunity to meet up. Until today as Jean had organised a party at his mansion. The thought of his name made your face feel hot. For as long as you can remember you've always felt a certain type of way towards that horse face.

"Thinking about him huh", Annie said noticing the redness on your cheeks.

'Wha- what do you mean? No I'm not thinking of Jean", you responded frantically looking away.

" I didn't say a name though." You could see Annie smirking in the corner of your eyes.

"Don't you think it's high time you tell him about your feelings? Who knows he likes you back too and besides you two would actually make a pretty good couple looking back at how both of you were with each other," Annie suggested.

"I don't know about that, Annie, you know I fear rejection", you said dejectedly while reminiscing at the good old days when all you and Jean did was tease the hell out of each other and pull pranks with Sasha and Connie on teachers and the others.

Soon after you reached a grand gate.

"Open up horse face it's me and y/n," Annie said over the radio.

"Yeah yeah and don't call me horse face!" Jean scoffed on the microphone. Hearing his voice made butterflies errupt in your stomach. It was the first time you were coming over his house and damn the boy was rich rich as you looked at the magnificent well-kept garden enriched by a fountain in the middle face-to-face with stairs leading to the three story illuminated building.

When you reached inside, your eyes fell on Mikasa who was lounging on the couch. Shrieking you threw yourself on her, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Mikasa It's been so long!"

"Ahaha! Welcome y/n! I missed you too now stop crushing me," Mikasa coughed from the impact of your bodies colliding.

"Did someone get hurt? Why was there a scream?" Eren inquired coming from what seems to be the kitchen with Armin.

"Oh its just y/n", Armin said as you ran and jumped on him making both of you fall down laughing, "Armiiin! I missed you so much!"

"What's all this commotion about?" Connie asked revealing himself accompanied by Sasha who was savoring a pizza, a quizzical look on her face.

"Gosh I missed you guys so much! where are the rest?" you asked a tear in your right eye.

"Reiner, Berthold, Marco and Jean are setting up the projector to watch a movie and Ymir and Historia haven't reached ye-", Eren was cut off with the arrival of said people.

"Hola amigos! We have news for you all!" Ymir shouted while hugging Historia, "We're finally going out with each other!"

"Tell me why am I not surprised," Annie said as Historia blushed and Ymir just frowned at her words. Just at that moment Jean entered the room alongside with the boys making everyone invited present in the hall.

All the blood in your body rushed to your face as you saw Jean being a totally different person from last year. He grew a goatee on his face and his hair was longer too which seemed to be a mullet. He was wearing a casual grey hoodie and sweatpants yet this was so hot to you.

Your voice was stuck in your throat when you tried to say a word to him but either ways the monent the came he announced that everything was ready for the movie. He didn't even acknowledge your presence or make eye contact with you. It felt odd as you two were so close and he barely looked in your direction.

Everyone proceeded to go to the cinema hall which was located in the basement. You took your seat between Annie and Mikasa and Jean was right behind you. In a few the movie 'Attack on titan' started. Fifteen minutes in and you had already finished all your popcorn so you got up to fetch more from the kitchen. While going out you noticed that Jean and Marco were not in the hall but you choose to ignore it to go fetch your food. Right before you entered your destination you heard two voices coming from a room. You usually don't eavesdrop but the sudden mention of your name intrigued you to do so.

"It's now or never Jean who knows after how long you would finally see y/n again", you heard Marco said to Jean.

"I don't know Marco this seems like a bad decision to me", Jean continued.

"How would you know about that Jean? You think you know how y/n truly feels but you may be wrong you know ", your heart skipped a beat after hearing this.

Did this mean it was what you were thinking?

"Marco, I think it's for the best I don't tell y/n how I feel about her/them", Jean mumbled. So that's why he's been ignoring you. This confirmed your thoughts and under the shock you lost your footing pushing the door you were leaning against open. Jean saw his life flash in front of his eyes when he realised you heard what he said.

"You know what, I am letting you two alone to talk", Marco said taking his leave giving you a reassured look before closing the door behind him

You looked at Jean with soft eyes while he turned his back on you with his hand on the back of his neck. You noticed that the tips of his ears were red and before you could say anything he spoke up.

"So you heard what I said huh, would you please forget about it? I don't want to lose you because you're aware of my feelings for you", Jean said looking down with his back still facing you.

"Jean look at me", you asked him but he refused to do so which resulted in you walking to face him but he still looked away.

You grabbed his face to make him look at you. Jean was expecting you to reject him but instead you pressed your lips against his. His eyes widen at your action and he kissed you back more roughly when it hit him.

You pushed him to the bed as you sat on his lap continuing to makeout with him. His hands roamed around your body from your waist to finally grab your ass and give it a little squeeze.

You pulled back with a string of saliva connecting your mouths and looked him.

He looked at you thinking if only you knew how beautiful you were in his eyes.

"Does this mean you return my feelings?" Jean hopingly asked.

"Who kisses their best friend without feelings moron?" you smiled at him bopping his nose.

At this instant your mouths collided with each other again. Your hand reached down to peel his hoodie off his body and goddamn he was hot. You ran your petite hands against his hard muscular chest and abbs as Jean was looking at you adoringly.

Suddenly he grabbed your chin and attacked your neck with kisses. He ran this tongue on the skin while he unbuttoned your shirt to reveal your red bra. He went down from your neck to your collarbone leaving hickeys behind. A sharp pain followed by pleasure made you purr. He skilfully opened your bra with his one hand while the other was in your hair pulling it.

As your undergarment fell to the floor his jaw dropped at the sight of your perfect boobs in front of him. It felt like a blessing that he was witnessing you in this state. While he was busy gawking at you, you took his big slender hands and placed it on them. His cheeks took a bright red colour.

You grinded on his thighs feeling him getting harder. He let out a soft grunt feeling this sensation. He was sucking on one nipple and pinching the other one which made you throw your head back in absolute bliss.

Jean then advanced into helping you take off your pants leaving you in your panties. The more this man undresses you the more mesmerised he was by your figure. He slid his fingers up and down your cunt feeling how wet he made you when he barely even touched you.

"Would you sit on my face? please", Jean breathed with eyes filled with lust. You felt your clit pulsating at his request and you knew Jean could feel it too on his thigh. You nodded with your flushed face unable to say anything out of embarrassment.

He laid down on the bed as you took off your panties. Climbing on him his hands grabbed your waist guiding you right above his mouth. He ran his tongue through your folds making you lose your breath. He held you still so that you wouldn't move away while he was eating you out. He flicked your bud then inserted his tongue into and out you. You held onto the bed counter for support, your hair falling on your face.

"Jeannn", you moaned as you began riding his face. Jean was delighted let his tongue flat to let you pleasure yourself on him. Moving up and down you ravished this sweet feeling coursing through you. Soon after your legs began trembling signaling you were reaching your climax.

"Go ahead cum on my face please y/n", Jean pleaded and you did as he told. He felt your juices ran down his neck as he was savoring the taste.

"This is the best dinner of my life," he panted as you got off him. Your heart was beating so hard against your ribs as though it would come out.

You returned to your original place on his lap. You helped him take off his sweatpants watching his hard member spring free.

"Are you okay with this?" Jean asked.

"I've waited years to be able to do it so hell yeah I am," shifting yourself on his lap to make his dick right outside your entrance, you slowly inserted it in you. Feeling the neediness grow bigger Jean couldn't take it and pushed you down completely making his dick disappear in you. You bit his shoulder to help you bear with this immense pleasure.

"Fuck y/n you feel so good", Jean moaned being wrapped with your tight walls.

Pulling back from his shoulder you looked at him in the eyes as you rode him, your foreheads touching each other. Your boobs were bouncing from your up and down movement making you look so erotic to Jean. With time you picked more speed and was moving quicker. Jean was losing his mind at this. Your bodies blended into one. Jean bit his lips and grabbed your thighs so hard it was leaving marks. Your lips connected into a sloppy yet passionate kiss.

"Shit y/n I'm reaching my limit"

"Let's cum together Jean"

Jean was thrusting his hips into you out of instinct. The room was filled with the heavy breathing of both of you and the dirty sound of your ass and his thighs clapping.

Your body freezed as you let everything out of you and felt Jean's hot liquid inside of you. You screamed his name against his chest. Removing his dick from you, you sat on his lap looking into each other's eyes.

Suddenly you heard the door open revealing Eren outside.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry!" the poor boy appologised closing the door as fast as he could.

Jean and you broke into a laughter being happy that one of two finally confessed.

End.

Thank you for reading. :)

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pixelwisp-archive · 3 years

Text

Itadakimasu!! | Part 11: I'm Sorry (Written Chapter)

word count: 3.1k

The Mixtape: Thinking of you | CA, 1979

The music that pooled out of Onigiri Miya was anything but what you expected. A small smile crept up onto your face - despite your best efforts - and with a featherlight touch, you crept into the restaurant, silently thanking the soft jazz for drowning out the creaks as you pushed the door open in search of a certain chef.

Osamu stood at the sink, hands working some leftover dishes from the work day. He hummed softly along to the music, and it surprised you just how nice he sounded - how his deep hum complemented the honey voice that dripped through the speakers; rich, thick, and soft like velvet. You padded into the kitchen, clutching the wine and apron closer to your frame so as not to bump it on anything that could give you away, and allowed yourself a few minutes to listen and appreciate before ultimately ruining the moment.

“I didn’t know you could sing, Miya.” You brought a hand up to suppress a giggle as he stiffened and dropped the plate he had been washing with a loud clatter. Osamu bowed his head and cleared his throat, loud enough to drown out the music for a brief moment before it ultimately pervaded the kitchen once more. He grabbed the nearest towel to dry his hands before reaching for the remote, the music ceasing with a quick click. Once he turned around, your eyes immediately fell on the dusted pink that settled onto his cheeks, and you did your best to ignore the warmth that ignited in your chest at the sight.

"So, Etta James, huh?" Osamu coughed awkwardly, turning his attention back toward the sink to finish up the last few dishes that lingered in the basin.

"Ya know Etta James?" An affirming hum left your lips as you placed the bottle of wine and your apron on the island, eyes flitting over the rustic kitchen in search of wine glasses.

The kitchen was a decent size, the bright wooden counters and cabinets a stark contrast to the dark iron of the appliances, but it complemented each other and suited the space well. The soft ivory paint on the walls kept the overall area from being too loud compared to the rest of the restaurant, and you wondered if Kita was behind the greenery that added a lush, vibrant addition to the otherwise plain shop. Your eyes landed on a modest pile of cookbooks stored neatly in the corner, and you let out a huff of victory as you made your way over to the wine glasses that sat in a windowed cabinet above them.

"My parents were big fans, they've always had a funny fascination with America," you explained, and from the corner of your eye you saw him nod. The two of you relished in the, for once, comfortable beats of silence that followed, and you were surprised when he - for a second time since you had met him - decided to be the one break it.

"My Ma used to have this busted up, old, mix tape that she would play every night when she made dinner. Got it at a flea market when she spent a semester abroad in California. She always talked about how she wished she could visit again." The fondness in his voice made your heart squeeze. You busied yourself, listening intently as you placed two wine glasses onto the counter and filled them generously. "Eventually the cassette broke from years of abuse, but I managed to find the songs and make her a playlist. She still listens to it, every night, and I guess I got so used to it that it feels almost...wrong, to cook without hearin' it in the background, even though I'm not home anymore." You slid one glass over to him and he raised a brow at it, a soft smile pointed your way.

"I think ya skimped me a bit," he joked, and you chuckled sheepishly, a hand coming to scratch the back of your neck.

"What can I say, I like my wine." He chuckles as you reach for the small remote.

"You didn't have to stop it, you know. I love me some Etta," you said, and his smile widened ever so slightly as you pressed play, the smooth voice fluttering through the speakers once more, softer this time as you adjusted the volume. You lifted the wine glass to your lips, taking a tentative first sip. The second the bittersweet liquid hit your tongue, you closed your eyes and sighed into the familiarity. It flashed you back to Tokyo; the seemingly endless nights on the balcony with Tendou and Semi, your drunken laughter rivaling the music in volume as Semi sang along with fervor - but, really, does anyone sound good when they're nearly a bottle deep?

Reality slammed into you like a meteor, and you were instantly struck back into the present moment, meeting Osamu's eyes as he watched you curiously. You felt the warmth crawl up your neck from the embarrassment, and you cleared your throat in the hopes that you could divert his attention to literally anything else.

"So, are you gonna teach me how to properly make some Onigiri tonight?" His eyes fell on the apron you brought, the one he gifted to you, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as his lips settled into a playful smirk.

"Who said anythin' about 'teach'? I said I'd show ya how I make it; I didn' say nothin' about teachin' ya."

"And miss out on learning how to make Onigiri Miya's signature dish? No way." Osamu scoffed as you grabbed your apron and began tying it around your waist. His arms folded in front of him, his lips a thin line. You couldn't tell if he was thinking or already disapproving.

"This was meant to be an apology, you know," he started, but you cut him off.

"I know! And what better apology than by helping me perfect my shaping?" The resigned sigh that followed meant a victory for you, the grin proof enough for both of you that you had won. "So, what are we making today?"

"I figured I'd keep it simple tonight. Ya like fatty tuna?" Of course you do. Who doesn’t? "Great, let's get started then."

To be honest, you weren't expecting Osamu to be as patient with you as he was. Even though you were decently acquainted with the 'art form' that was Onigiri (as so eloquently and dramatically described by Osamu), you decided to entertain him and pretend to struggle with every step - over shredding the tuna, spilling the spices, adding too much mayo - in the minor hope that you could catch him stressed and maybe a bit frustrated - but to your somewhat disappointment, mostly pleasant surprise, every effort to get at least a furrowed brow or a groan was met with a warm smile, sometimes a breathy chuckle, and a strong pair of arms gently guiding you through the correct steps.

It was as equally frustrating as it was endearing.

"Now ya wanna dip yer hands into the dish of water I left on the side for ya, yeah, great, that's it - now grab a pinch of salt - not too much, just a pinch, and ya wanna rub it into yer hands to prep for the rice."

"What if I have a cut somewhere?"

"Do ya have a cut?"

"Well, not that I know of, but what if there's a cut I don't know about?"

"Well then I guess we'll find out soon, won' we?"

You huffed, but nonetheless pinched the tiny mountain of salt and collected a modest amount before tentatively rubbing it into your hands. Your shoulders were stiff the entire time, prepared for the sudden sting on the off chance the salt decided to acquaint itself with an unknown wound on your hand. You heard Osamu stifle a laugh, and your eyes met his as he smirked at your cautious form.

"Stop staring at me, focus on your own stupid rice ball." He laughed - loudly, beautifully - and you felt your hands tremble the slightest bit as you tried to put all of your focus on making a stupid, dumb triangle out of some stupid, dumb rice.

"Need some help?" You merely grumbled in response as the little bundle of rice and filling crumbled in your hands, despite your feeble attempts at shaping it. He set his own, perfectly shaped, onigiri aside and scooched over to you, his arms reaching around your form, chest pressed lightly against your back. "Yer pressing in too softly, so the rice isn't holding. Cup yer hands like this-" he cupped your hands within his own "-just like that. Now press a little firmer, like this." You were trying your best to pay attention to what he was showing you, you really were - but you couldn't help but marvel at how soft his hands were. You expected them to be rough; calloused from years of cooking, volleyball, and the handyman side hobby, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What kind of lotion did he use to make them feel so smooth? Probably some fancy homemade Aloe Vera lotion Kita made for him, you thought with a scoff.

This new revelation had also made you hyper aware that your hands were not, in fact, soft - countless burns, cuts, and other various acts of carelessness in the kitchen have given your hands a battle worn texture that no amount of hoity toity, all natural Aloe Vera would be able to soften up. He must have been cringing inside just having to touch the absolute burlap that is your haggard looking, stupid hands, oh god-

"Nice job, yer doin' great." The gentleness in his voice plucked you from your inner turmoil, effectively grounding you back to the task at hand. What was once a crumbling mess of rice and tuna now stood a beautifully crafted onigiri, the plump triangle nestled snuggly in between your hands. A gasp left you as you beamed at the finished product, and you whipped your head toward him, twisting slightly within his grip so you could face him properly.

It was then that you realized just how close he was to you.

Whatever words you had planned to say to him died in your throat as your brain tried to comprehend why the hell his face was so close to yours. Osamu seemed to be in a similar state of shock, eyes wide and mouth emulating a fish, opening and shutting when the words weren't coming to him. From the way your own mouth gaped, you imagined you shared a similar expression.

Simultaneously, almost comically, you separated yourselves and severed eye contact, Osamu finding something above you particularly interesting. What exactly, you weren't sure - you were too busy eyeing every minute detail of the remarkably plain tile flooring.

Like an awkward embrace from an old friend you never truly vibed with, the uncomfortable silence settled between you two once again.

It would have almost felt nostalgic, if you didn't hate it with a seething passion.

'And my arms need someone, someone to enfold'

The playful jazz number cut through the silence, and you mentally cursed Etta for clearly not reading the room - your arms were certainly not looking to enfold anybody at the moment, and you imagined it was likely that Osamu felt the same.

You spun back around toward your work station, a quick roll of your shoulders the only indication that you were gonna keep working, because you sure as shit didn't trust whatever would have come out of your mouth had you chosen to open it. Lucky for you, he seemed to get the hint and moved back toward his own work station, making quick work of shaping what he had left, while you continued to struggle, albeit far less than before.

Not a word had been uttered in the moments that followed, the music filling the awkward rift that split between you.

To be honest, you felt guilty that nearly every interaction between you two inevitably dissolved into a dense, unbearable tension; the once lighthearted mood suddenly cracked open like a fault line, the quiet settling between you like dust, and it always felt so thick that trying to bring the moment back its old, enlightened state seemed to take such an immense amount of effort - effort that neither one of you appeared to want to put forth.

You wondered if Osamu shared a similar sentiment.

While you finished up the last of your onigiri, you allowed your attention to flicker to Osamu as he eyed the leftover tuna filling with seemingly great interest, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he scooped the mess onto his finger, putting obvious effort into keeping it balanced as he brought the teetering pile to his lips. Right as he went to close his lips around his finger, the tiny mountain fell, smearing onto his chin and landing on the counter with the saddest little ‘splat’ you'd ever heard. The disappointment he exuded at his misfortune is what ultimately broke you, and you laughed - a bright, gleeful sound that dispelled the suffocating air in an instant, and made you feel like you could finally breathe again (which was ironic, considering how out of breath you were from the incessant giggles that sprung free with absolutely no regard for your lung capacity).

Your hand flew to your mouth in an (admittedly failed) attempt to stifle yourself, as well as possibly save the last shred of rapidly waning dignity Osamu was probably holding onto for dear life. You folded in on yourself, laughter bouncing off the restaurant floor and - again, probably - stabbing directly into Osamu's crumbling pride.

Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Osamu's loud, beautiful laugh cut through your own, and at the sight of his uncharacteristically bright smile, accompanied with the little smear of mayo on his chin, you realized that, maybe, probably, he was actually doing just fine; and that this - laughing with him - was something you'd never been given the chance to do before, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't something you wished you could do more often.

You hoped that, maybe, Osamu wanted that, too.

"So, I take it they didn't teach you how to make onigiri at your fancy schmancy culinary school?" He smiled as you bit back a groan. It was embarrassing, how ugly your onigiri looked next to his. Sure, you were joking about your incompetence in the beginning in the hopes to rile him up a little; but when it came to actually forming the balls, well - there's a reason the spite onigiri you made were small and round.

"You win this time, rice man." He boldly plucked one of your creations and plopped it onto his plate, while you opted for one of his. You knew yours were gonna have too much mayo and way too much seasoning, and you weren't about to subject yourself to that.

You took a bite out of the rice ball and audibly moaned - how is something so simple so delicious? He chuckled, lazy smile draped across his features as he watched you eat. The little sparkle in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you, and you felt a tiny tug on your heart at how excited he was that you were enjoying his food, even if he wasn't being outwardly showy about it like you tended to be.

"'This time'? Does that mean we're doing this again?" You reached for another one of his as you hummed to yourself.

"Hmm, maybe. Maybe I'll force you to bake me some macarons." You were kidding, of course - you wouldn't wish that upon even your worst enemies - but the way his eyes brightened and he agreed with a small but noticeable lilt to his voice had you wondering if maybe making macarons wouldn't be all that bad if you made them with him.

He bit into your onigiri, taking a far more generous bite than you would have, and you snickered at the obvious attempt to conceal the grimace he had involuntarily made upon swallowing. The way he tiptoed around his critique of your failure was incredibly endearing ("It's not bad, just...mayo-y." "You don't have to eat it, you know." "No no, you worked hard, I'm gonna eat it."), and you felt the first little crack form in the walls you had begun to keep up around him ever since the curry incident.

The longer you enjoyed the food, wine, and - surprisingly - company, the harder it became to ignore the guilt that had settled onto your heart earlier in the evening. What started off as a mere twinge had become a sizeable weight in your chest, growing each moment you spent with him that didn't make you want to launch him off the summit of Mount Fuji.

"I'm sorry," you said, quiet and out of the blue. He shot you a confused smile.

"Pretty sure that's my job right now," he pointed out, and you offered a meek chuckle in response.

"I shouldn't have sold the dessert onigiri. Seeing just how passionate you are makes me realize the gravity of what I did. My ego was a little bruised and instead of being an adult about it, I openly insulted you and Kita by making a mockery of your business. I took it too far, and I'm really sorry about that. I'm sure it goes without saying, but I'm gonna stop making them so you don't have to worry anymore." He was quiet, staring at you in a way he hadn't before, and it made you feel far too exposed, playing with the rice crumbled on your plate as you waited for a reaction.

"I'm sorry, too. I only said those things because the idea of you expanding yer menu terrified me. Yer an amazin' chef, and I honestly think ya could run me out of business one day." His voice was soft, too; and you felt the crack grow considerably wider, your vulnerability peeking through pinched brows and hands that you couldn't seem to keep still. "I've always wanted to open up a location in Tokyo, and expand the menu. Onigiri made sense because it's always been a source of comfort, but as much as I love makin' em, there're others things I wanna make, too."

The air between you was...light. The weight that usually settled itself into your shoulder blades seemed to have dissipated, and you couldn't tell if it was the wine, the time, or Osamu. Maybe it was all three.

"I...I like it better when we don't hate each other," you said.

"I never hated you," he said.

"I never hated you either," you admitted.

"Does that mean we can stop pretending we do?" He looked you, and you saw hope.

You smiled.

"Yeah," you said. "We can."

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun facts -

Osamu listening to old 60′s love songs just did something to me ok, especially my girl Etta

Kita is 100% responsible for the plants

Osamu’s mom kept the tape, even after it finally broke beyond repair. It reminds her of Osamu’s father, who she met that summer in Cali

he was another exchange student from Japan. They had a summer fling and inevitably said their goodbyes when the summer was over and he had to fly back home.

They ended up bumping into each other a year after she moved back - and fate has been a big theme for the Miya’s ever since.

Osamu has always felt a little funny about it - it feels too convenient, and he doesn’t like the idea of not being in control of his own path.

He thought your ugly rice balls were disgusting, obviously, and he was sure to eat his own after the first one lmao

A/n - when you haven’t updated in so long you have to look at past chapters to remember how you formatted 😭. BUT ITS FINALLY DONEEEE, this chapter KICKED my ass oh my god but it feels so good to be finished and we’re finally moving into new territory~ I’m very excited for the next few chapters!! I hope you guys enjoy this latest chapter, please don’t be afraid to shoot me messages if you have questions!! I have a LOT of behind the scenes content that doesn’t make it into the fic sometimes and I’m always eager to share 🤩✨💛

Taglist (bolded cannot be tagged!)-

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy @k3nma-fairy @jewlmin @tabipleats @kaleidoscopekai @confusedturtle @vintagexparker @hoeevern @syaziahvg @hallothankmas @lilith412426 @aurorahoneybuns @oikawakuns @reina-de-tay @prettyinblack231 @snowyseungs @darlingkuroo @chloji @1sillylittlething

#Itadakimasu!!#osamu smau #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya smau #osamu miya #osamu x y/n #haikyuu smau #haikyu smau #hq smau #hq!! smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #haikyu x reader #hq!! x reader #hq x reader #osamu x you

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jedimasterkelly · 3 years

Text

Shit happens when you're a woman. A lot of shit. Bad shit. And a lot of the time, you will run into doctors who do not listen to you. Will not care about you, and will not take you seriously.

This story is about the Great Cancer Scare of 2020.

I was 49, and 3 yrs post menopause. I was pleased about that, as it means no more period ever. I could deal with the occasional hot flashes, and the snapping of necks of anyone who dared bother me. Then in May of 2020, after the pandemic fully hit and the University I work at closed and sent all of us to work from home, I got very sick. Not from Covid, thankfully, but something else. I had started bleeding, and it wasn't menstrual blood. It was bright red and HEAVY. I was filling post-natal pads within 2 hours. I called the Women's Clinic where my OB-GYN lived. They couldn't see me until July. WTF! I called my GP, who got me in on an emergency basis, I mean, 3 yrs post-menopausal women don't just spring a leak, you know? My ovarian function had been almost nil for 3 years. He called my OB-GYN and demanded I get seen right away. They made an appointment for 2 weeks later. Keep reading, because it's quite a ride!

Seriously! 2 weeks later!

In the meantime, my GP discovered my thyroid was tanked out, so I was put on Levothyroxine 25mcg. It helped a lot. I started to feel a little bit more human, at least in the brain area. I finally got in to the OB-GYN, and he did a biopsy and trans-vaginal ultrasound. We got the results 2 weeks later and he called me in to go over them. He said I had hyperplasia with atypia. Cells were dividing rapidly, and he was very concerned. He recommended an endometrial ablation, or a full hysterectomy. At 49 he wasn't concerned with me having a sudden maternal urge (I have no kids), so he was fine with either choice. I decided on the hysterectomy, because why not? Endometrium grows back after an ablation, and why bother at my age? Just yank it all and let me get back to my life.

He said he didn't feel safe doing the procedure, since the cells were most likely cancerous and rapidly dividing, so he sent a referral to one of the cancer centers in OKC. I expected a call within a couple of weeks. I mean, really, if I have the early stages of endometrial cancer, they'd call me in immediately, right? Right?

Crickets. Literal crickets for 4 months! I was very concerned, hell, worried I was going to get full blown cancer and these jackasses weren't going to try and help me at all. I called OB-GYN several times during that 4 month period, and was told the cancer center in OKC wasn't returning their calls. I called them numerous times, and could never get a person on the phone.

I was told it was the pandemic. The pandemic was shutting everything down and causing huge backlogs for non-Covid issues to be seen. I told OB-GYN to refer me to the oncologist from Tulsa, who also worked once a month in Stillwater at the SMC Cancer Center. He didn't want to, he wanted me to see the doctor in OKC (who wasn't returning anyone's calls!) I called SMC Cancer Center and asked how soon I could get in with Dr. Thomas. His office called back within 2 hours asking for my chart and biopsy results. I had the Womens Clinic send my information to Dr. Thomas in Tulsa. Within a week, they called and had me on the schedule to see him in Stillwater on his next visit.

This is where the story gets good. And by good, I mean, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. Thanks for sticking with me this far.

Got in to see Dr. Thomas. I researched him and learned we have the same Alma Mater. That day, we were both wearing t-shirts from said same Alma Mater. Instant bonding! I also work in Administration at said same Alma Mater, so we spent some time discussing (gossiping) about my department since he had taken classes with a lot of my faculty during his undergrad. Then he got serious and handed me my biopsy report. He told me he was going to assume I wasn't shown this, since I am:

1. A Master's of Science graduate student in Education Leadership - this making me a researcher who knows how to do research, do research, and understand research.

2. Work full time in a Physical Sciences department at a Big 12 University.

3. Edit manuscripts for my Dept. Chair, thus proving I am scientifically literate. You can't edit scientific manuscripts without having a good, solid knowledge of said science. If he's alternating between "adsorb" and "absorb", I have to understand his research in order to correct his manuscript. This is important because his manuscripts have to be peer reviewed before they can be published in a reputable journal.

"Read it to me, out loud," he said.

I started reading from the paper in my professional scientist voice. It didn't take long before I began to falter as I came to the realization I had been lied to.

"Read it again," he said.

This time, I read it with a lot more heat in my voice.

Diagnosis: no hyperplasia with atypia, no abnormal cells detected

Dr. Thomas waited for me to explode. I didn't. I just stared at him in anger and horror. He offered to do another biopsy to make sure, but he suggested I fire my OB-GYN immediately and find someone who actually gives a shit about me.

I was still randomly bleeding, 6-9 weeks at a time, so we agreed on another trans-vaginal ultrasound and biopsy. The attached photo shows he took 3 samples from my uterus. He wanted to be sure.

A little ditty about endometrial biopsies:

They hurt like a motherfucker.

Take 2-3 ibuprofen before you leave the house to go to your procedure.

Relax. It usually only lasts a couple of minutes. The doctor normally takes 1 or 2 samples. Pinch, snip, clip, done.

Not this guy. He wanted to be surely sure.

He went for a 3rd pinch snip clip. My uterus seized up in the most painful spasm I ever had in my life. I almost came off the table. He was seated on a little rolly stool so he shot back away from me before I could connect his head to my foot. He triumphantly held up his little weapon of Uterine Destruction and declared, "Got it!"

"Yeah, you almost got your ass kicked mister," I growled at him.

"It was worth it to get this beauty of a sample."

So, after a biopsy of your uterus, expect some bleeding and cramping. I had severe cramps for 2 days. I was not amused. We're talking laying in bed with a heating pad and ibuprofen every 4 hours kind of cramping.

Got the results back in a couple of weeks. No cancer. No hyperplasia. No abnormal cell growth. He recommended I find a new OB-GYN fast. I decided fuck it, I'm done. I'm never seeing another OB-GYN ever again.

Dr. Thomas said several times he's convinced my issues are endocrinal. I filed that away in the back of my mind.

(if you ever do test positive for cancer and you are in the Tulsa area, I highly recommend Dr. Eric Thomas! Make sure you have a sense of humor with him.)

My GP started pressuring me back in March of 2021 to find a new OB-GYN. The Women's Clinic has several, but they have a fucked up rule you can't switch doctors there. So if you go there, you are stuck with the same doctor and can't move over to his colleague on another floor. I saw my GP again, and asked if he was still best buds with a gynecologist who had his own clinic. He was always full, and not taking new patients, so GP would have to call his buddy to get me in.

Which he did. Buddy-GYN's office called the very next day to schedule me in. He had been sent my chart and was concerned about the long bleeds (6-9 weeks in duration) and why the fuck were they happening after being 3 yrs post-menopause.

I went in for a consult in April of 2021. First thing out of his mouth, "Has anyone ever talked to you before about PCOS?"

I laughed.

I laughed because every GYN I saw over the last 20 years told me I didn't have PCOS, endometriosis, or any sort of hormonal issues. I was just fat, lazy, and a piggy pig pig. I actually had one OB-GYN tell me to go on The Biggest Loser. Fat shamed while sitting there naked on his table after an invasive exam of my female bits. Thanks a lot, asshole.

I told him about that. He informed me he could tell by LOOKING at me I have the classics signs of PCOS. I use an epilator on my crazy man-hairs, so he asked if I was tweezing or waxing. I about fell out of my chair. Nobody ever believed me that I was having to remove crazy thick hairs off my chin and neck all the time. He asked if I ever had ovarian cysts. Affirmative, I was diagnosed with ovarian cysts the first time one exploded back in 1994. He stood there, holding the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"Well, going by your chief complaints, your abdominal circumference, history of bursting cysts, and no period for 3 years, I am saying you have PCOS."

He went on to discuss my need for an appointment with an endocrine specialist, he was convinced my thyroid tanking out sent my ovaries back into production, and now my hormones are all over the place, most likely, and I needed specialized care.

He must have talked to GP, because I soon got a call from the endo clinic to come in.

This post is already long and tedious, but I am happy to say I finally have 3 doctors who listen to me. My new Endo doc tripled my levothyroxine and scheduled a follow up blood test for next month. Buddy-GYN talked me into a pap smear and cervical exam in July as well. He also wants a mammogram, which I begrudgingly need to schedule so he doesn't chew my ass in July when I walk in with no results. GP is working on my other issues (weight, bad fluid retention, etc...). We discovered from a blood test last Friday my iron levels are dangerously low. I am now on a Rx iron supplement. I've always struggled with anemia, but it never occurred to me or GP to check my iron levels. If you're a woman, and you feel like absolute dog shit and your doctor can't figure out why, have your iron and electrolytes tested. It'll probably take about 3-4 weeks for me to see any results from the iron supplement, but I can already see a reduction in fluid retention.

In September, I have an appointment with Dr. Le at Integris in OKC. He's a bariatric surgeon. I have gained so much weight from having PCOS and Hypothyroidism that I need to drop a lot of fat fast. I'm pretty healthy - I don't have the normal problems obese people tend to have. I'm not diabetic, don't have sleep apnea, my cholesterol levels are good. I am what they call "healthy fat" which seems like an oxymoron. However, it will improve my chances of getting approved for a sleeve gastrectomy.

I turned 50 last week, and had to endure 3 decades of no one listening to me. I feel I lost so many years of my life and I can never get them back. I hope this post reaches a lot of younger women having issues. Keep looking for a doctor who will listen to you. It sucks we have to hunt for these unicorns, but they do exist. I finally have a good team who actually cares about me.

You have a right to be listened to! You have a right to be heard!

I was asked: Who are my doctors?

Dr. Daniel Brown D.O. Stillwater Physicians Clinic

Dr. Yasuto Taguchi M.D. Taguchi Women's Clinic

Dr. Wynter Kipgen M.D. Stillwater Diabetes & Endocrinology

18 notes · View notes

cocastyle · 4 years

Text

Change - Ch. 1 | S E V E N

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 4,475

A/N - it’s been a bit hasn’t it? I’m so sorry for the semi-long wait! it’s getting near the end of my basketball season so I’ve been busy with senior night (which went great but was very emotional) and trying to wrap the season up while also juggling the mounds of homework my teachers have thrown at me. anyways, here’s an update for you all! I really hope you like it! and for those reading Wonderwall (my Steve Harrington rewrite) I’m currently working on an update for that as well!

if you all would like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - *

S E V E N - Pictures

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - *

Y/N was silent as she held onto her cousin's arm, standing close to him due to the bit of fear coursing through her body. Her eyes flickered over the missing poster in front of her, the name Edward Corcoran and the words 13 years old standing out almost as much as the thick bold letters spelling out missing.

Edward had been her age, a kid just like her and all of the other members of the Losers' Club. What had happened to him was still unknown, but Y/N couldn't stop thinking about that clown that not only her, but Bill, Beverly, Stan, and Eddie had seen as well.

"They say they found part of his hand all chewed up near the standpipe," Stan muttered as he shuffled awkwardly where he stood. His words made Y/N gulp and she gave him a questioning look as to why he would say something like that as she let go of his arm. Stan only gave her a look in response, confused by what she was doing.

"He asked to borrow a pencil once," Ben commented, and Y/N felt like she might be sick. Something about knowing that they had known Edward made the situation that much more real. After all he was a boy that had used to walk the same hallways as her cousin. He wasn't the first one to disappear like this and it didn't seem like he was going to be the last.

A commotion coming from the steeet caught Y/N's attention and she turned her head to lock eyes on Richie who was currently playing one of the band kid's instruments while the kid desperately tried to wrestle it out of his hands. The corners of her lips tugged up ever so slightly as she watched Richie, her eyes then flickering over the parade going by before a movement out of the corner of her eye had her turning back to the others.

Bill was walking towards the flyer and he hesitated before gently lifting the paper up to reveal another missing flyer for a girl named Betty Ripsom. Bill sighed before letting his eyes flicker over to his friends, his gaze instantly locking with Y/N's.

"It's like she's been f-f-forgotten because Corcoran's missing," Bill said, his words making Y/N frown slightly and look to her feet while Bill hung his head and put Edward's flyer back down.

"Is it ever gonna end?" Stan questioned.

"What the fuck, dude?" Richie's voice could be heard yelling out in frustration as the band kid tore his instrument away from the boy before running away.

"What are you guys talking about?" Eddie asked as he came up behind Y/N. The girl jumped in surprise and Eddie flashed her an apologetic look as he licked one of the ice cream cones in his hands.

"What they always talk about," Richie replied in annoyance as Eddie handed the boy the other ice cream cone.

"I actually think it will end, for a little while, at least," Ben told them.

"What do you mean?" Beverly asked, everyone's eyes now on the young boy.

"So I was going over all of my Derry research and I charted out all of the big events. The Ironworks explosion in 1908. The Bradley Gang in '35 and The Black Spot in '62. And now kids being. . ." Ben trailed off as his gaze fell on Bill. He quickly looked away and sighed as he said, "I realized this stuff seems to happen-"

"Every 27 years," Ben, Y/N, and Bill all uttered in unison, Y/N and Bill both making eye contact as those words left their mouths.

It was silent as the group stood there before Y/N shook her head and whispered out, "Shit." All eyes turned to the girl who put a hand to her head almost in pain before she turned and began to walk away, the action causing them all to look at her confused.

"Y/N?" Bill called out, his voice soft and filled with concern.

"I. . .I just need to sit down," Y/N replied with a wave of her hand as she walked down the street. The others all shared a look before quickly following after her, not wanting her to be alone.

Before long, the group had ended up sitting down at a park bench set up in the middle of town. Beverly, Stan, Mike, and Ben all sat on the green bench while Richie, Eddie, and Bill were seated on their bikes. As for Y/N, she was sitting on the ground by Bill's side.

She was resting her head against Bill's leg, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by Bill or Stan, and was pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to wrap her head around everything that she had been told over the past couple of days and everything that she had witnessed since she got here.

Derry was definitely a little stranger than the last time she had been there that was for sure.

"Ok, so let me get this straight. It comes out from wherever to eat kids for like a year and then what? It just goes into hibernation?" Eddie finally asked

"Maybe it's like. . .what do you call it? Cicadas. You know, the bugs that come out once every 17 years," Stan suggested while Y/N removed her hand to scrunch up her nose and look to her cousin.

"I don't think it's that," Y/N muttered with a shake of her head. Cicadas and kids going missing were not the same thing at all.

"My grandfather thinks this town is cursed. He says that all the bad things that happened in this town are because of one thing. An evil thing that feeds off the people of Derry," Mike explained.

Y/N's stomach grew queasy again and she let out a soft groan as she laid back against Bill's leg, the boy reaching down to brush some of the hair out of her face almost automatically before the two shared a small smile.

"But it can't be one thing. We all saw something different," Stan pointed out.

"Maybe. Or maybe It knows what scares us most and that's what we see," Mike suggested.

"But I don't. . .I don't fear my father," Y/N argued.

"Did he do or say something that scares you?" Mike asked, wondering if it wasn't Y/N's father that scared her but something else that he might've done or said.

Y/N's face fell at that and a flash of pain flickering across her face before she looked down, the sudden realization of what fear her father was supposed to represent hitting her harder than she had expected. For one of the things she feared most in the world was being the reason her parents split up and for being the reason her family wasn't a family anymore.

It didn't take much for the others to know that she had realized what her fear was, but Eddie knew she wouldn't want to talk about it and was quick to speak up, "I-I saw a leper. He was like a walking infection." Everyone's gaze turned to him and Y/N gave him a thankful smile which he returned.

"But you didn't. Because It isn't real. None of this is. Not Eddie's leper or Bill seeing Georgie or Y/N seeing her father or the woman I keep seeing," Stan insisted, the others all looking down as they tried to believe Stan's words. For it was better to think that they were all hallucinating than to know that something out there was changing into their worst fears.

"Is she hot?" Richie suddenly asked in pure curiosity that made Stan scrunch his nose up in disgust and glare at his friend.

"No, Richie. She's not hot. Her face is all messed up," Stan explained with a tad bit of aggression while Richie frowned. "None of this makes any sense. They're all like bad dreams."

"Nightmares," Y/N whispered, her face pale as she ran a hand through her hair. By now she was thinking of all of her fears and what It could do to her that she was more frightened now than she had been five minutes ago.

"I don't think so, I know the difference between a bad dream and real life, okay?" Mike told them, the seriousness in his voice making them fall quiet.

"What did you see? You saw something too?" Eddie asked.

"Yes," Mike muttered, his head falling as his eyes glazed over as if he were seeing the memory before his very eyes. "You guys know that burnt down house on Harris Avenue? I was inside when it burned down. Before I was rescued my mom and dad were trapped in the next room over from me. They were pushing and pounding on the door trying to get to me. But it was too hot. When the firefighters finally found them. . .the skin on their hands melted down to the bone."

A heavy silence fell among the group and Mike let his eyes flicker over each of them before firmly saying, "We're all afraid of something."

"Got that right," Richie said causing Y/N to look to him.

"What about you, Tozier? What are you afraid of?" Y/N asked, her voice soft as she looked to the boy. He glanced down at her for a second before sighing and looking back at the stage behind them which had a clown on stage.

"Clowns."

- - -

Bill let out a small sigh of frustration as he struggled to keep the blueprints on the wall from moving as he pinned them up. Before he could yell at one of his friends to help him, a small and gentle voice said, "Here, I'll help."

Bill didn't even have time to blink before Y/N was sliding up beside him to hold the paper up while he was able to pin the blueprint to the wall. Once it was secure, the two brought their arms down and looked to each other. "Thanks," Bill whispered before the two smiled softly at each other.

"Okay, lovebirds! If you aren't going to fucking kiss then sit down!" Richie exclaimed in slight amusement and annoyance, a few chuckles escaping his lips at the sight of Bill and Y/N blushing a deep red before they walked away from the blueprint.

Mike pulled the door to Bill's garage down while Eddie flipped on the projector that Bill had him set up. The Losers then all crowded around the projector while Bill put a slide in. Y/N and Bill locked eyes for a split second before Y/N quickly turned away and sat down beside Eddie on the floor, the boy sending a small smile in her direction which she quickly returned before they looked to the blueprints which had a projection of an old Derry map on top of it.

"Okay. Look. That's where G-G-Georgie disappeared. There's the Ironworks and the Black Spot. Everywhere It happens it's-it's all connected by the sewers and they all meet up at the-" Bill began as he pointed towards the spots marked on the map.

"The Well House," Ben said in surprise.

"Well House?" Y/N questioned, not knowing what they were talking about.

"That's the house on Neibolt Street," Stan explained, his voice shaking slightly as he spoke.

"You mean that creepy-ass house where all the junkies and hobos like to sleep?" Richie questioned while Eddie began to panic. The boy quickly pulled his inhaler out and took a hit before breathing heavily beside Y/N. The girl frowned and was quick to put a hand on Eddie's back, gently rubbing up and down his back in a comforting manner and helping the boy to calm down.

"I hate that place," Beverly admitted. "Always feels like it's watching me."

Eddie was finally able to calm down enough to sit back up straight and he leaned into Y/N's touch slightly, seeking the sisterly comfort she seemed to be giving him and that he used to receive from her when they were younger.

"That's where I saw It," Eddie told them. "That's where I saw the clown."

"Tha-tha-tha-that's where It lives," Bill concluded, the statement being enough to make Eddie use his inhaler once again.

"I can't imagine anything ever wanting to live there," Stan muttered.

"Guys," Y/N said in warning as she noticed Eddie's panicking state, but the boy was already jumping to his feet and turning to look at his friends.

"Can we stop talking about this?" Eddie asked. "I-I-I can barely breathe and-and-and Y/N's not even able to calm me down like she always does. It's summer. We're kids, I can barely breathe. I'm having a fucking asthma attack and fuck doing this!"

Eddie turned around and quickly grabbed ahold of the blueprint map that Bill and Y/N had just put up and ripped it off the wall. "What the hell! Put the map back!" Bill yelled while Eddie shook his head.

Y/N sighed and quickly got up from her spot before walking over to the boy. "Eds, it's okay," Y/N assured him while the boy watched her wearily.

"Woah! Woah! Woah! How come she gets to call you Eds without you biting her head off?" Richie complained.

"Because she's not an asshole like you!" Eddie exclaimed while Richie frowned and muttered something under his breath.

It was at that moment that the projector flickered on and off, the slide changing to a blank one and causing the group to look to Bill who was staring at the projector confused. The projector did the motion again and a picture of Georgie and Mr. Denbrough appeared in the place of the map. Although this time everyone had noticed that Bill hadn't been the one to change the slides.

"What happened?" Bill asked confused as the slides moved again, family pictures of the four Denbroughs appearing before them. "What's going on?"

Eddie slowly began to back away while Y/N merely looked at the pictures in confusion before looking back at Bill. "Bill, what's happening?" Y/N questioned.

"I don't know," Bill shook his head as Mike came over and tried to stop the projector only to find that he couldn't. His eyes then flickered up to the screen and he muttered, "Guys. . ."

Y/N turned back around and watched as pictures of Bill and Georgie appeared on the screen before there was another family picture of the Denbroughs. Although this time it began to zoom in on Georgie in the picture with each click of the projector.

"Georgie," Bill muttered before the projector began to move faster.

"Uh. . .Y/N," Stan said in a panicked voice as he noticed that his cousin was still so far away from him.

However, everyone fell silent and seemed to become mesmerized as they watched the picture suddenly shift view over to Mrs. Denbrough. For a moment it seemed as if her hair was moving with each click of the projector and it didn't take Y/N or the others long to realize that it was moving with each click.

The hair quickly covered his mother's face before slowly starting to move away. With each click, the new face began to be revealed and Y/N felt her breath hitch in her throat once she realized the clown was suddenly coming into view.

It was like she was frozen in terror, the only thing registering in her head was her friends yelling out as they desperately tried to stop the projector.

"What the fuck?"

"It's It!"

"What the fuck is that?"

"I don't fucking know!"

"Turn it off!"

"Yes, turn it off!"

Mike was the one to react and he quickly kicked the stand the projector was on, sending the projector tumbling to the ground. The picture appeared again only the clown was now gone and all that was left was the empty background of the picture.

Y/N was breathing heavily as she finally blinked out of whatever trance she had been in. Her body was shaking as she looked back at the others with wide eyes only to find them all looking behind her with wide eyes before Bill looked to Y/N in fright and yelled out, "Y/N, get away!"

Y/N felt her whole body tense at that and for some stupid and unknown reason she decided to turn around only to find that there was nothing there. Her shoulders relaxed slightly and she went to turn back at her friends only for the clown suddenly to appear out of no where, it's body now ten times bigger and crawling out of the projected image.

A scream fell from Y/N's lips as the clown turned to look at her and she heard Stan cry out her name among the scream of the others. That was enough to have her moving and Y/N tried to scramble away only for something to grab onto her leg.

Y/N quickly slammed into the ground and turned only to find that It had ahold of her leg. Another scream left her lips and tears were filling her eyes by now as she felt an immense pain in her leg.

It let go of her for a split second and Y/N tried to crawl away as best as she could while It just watched her in amusement. She didn't know what her cousin or her friends were doing at that moment, but for a split second she thought that they had left her and that she was going to die.

Y/N was crying as she crawled across the floor only to get trapped in the corner of the garage while It stared directly at her, his hand outstretched in her direction as he went to grab for her.

"Y/N!" Bill's voice yelled out before he was suddenly grabbing onto the garage door and flinging it up, allowing the light to pour into the garage. The clown disappeared almost immediately and the last thing to be heard was an ear piercing scream from Y/N as she huddled more into herself in the corner of Bill's garage.

Once nothing came for her, Y/N allowed her eyes to flicker open only to find the garage was now empty. This alone was enough to make her break down and Y/N began to sob as she hugged her knees close to her body, the others all standing there breathing heavily as they tried to process what had just happened.

Bill was the only one unfazed and shoved past Stan who was staring at his cousin with wide eyes, a look of pure horror on his face as he had almost seen his best friend die before his very eyes and hadn't been able to do anything about it.

Bill was in front of Y/N in seconds and the girl didn't even hesitate before lunging forward and into Bill's arms, the boy holding her tight while she cried into his shirt. He tucked her head under his chin and cradled the back of her head against his chest as he gently rocked her back and forth, whispering softly to her that she was okay while she cried in his arms.

"It saw us," Eddie whispered once Y/N's cries has quieted. She was still holding onto Bill tightly, the boy having not loosened his grip at all either, but the two turned their gazes to Eddie who was gripping onto his inhaler. "It saw us and It knows where we are."

"It always knew," Bill muttered, those words making Y/N quiet once again. Bill looked down at the girl and his mind was instantly made up on what had to happen next. He gave the girl one last squeeze and even kissed the top of her head before reluctantly pulling away from her, ignoring the heartbroken look in her eyes as she desperately tried to keep hold of him.

Bill stood up and glanced at Stan who took the hint and rushed over to his cousin before helping her up onto her feet. Bill was just about to walk out when he heard a hiss from behind him that had the boy turning around to see Y/N turn her leg for them all to see. He, along with all the others, paled at the sight of two long scratches down the back of her leg, blood rolling down her leg and making Eddie stumble back slightly from the sight.

"Shit," Richie muttered, his eyes filling with concern as he looked at Y/N and gulped.

Y/N's injury only seemed to fuel Bill's rage and he shook his head before storming out of the garage with a new purpose. "Let's go," Bill demanded.

"Go? Go where?" Beverly asked.

"Neibolt," Bill explained and, not wanting to admit his feelings for Y/N and how desperately he wanted to kill that clown for harming her or his brother, added, "That's where G-G-Georgie is."

"After that?" Stan asked appalled as he held his cousin up steady beside him. "After Y/N just got hurt?"

"Yeah, Y/N's hurt and we should help her. Besides it's summer, we should be outside. . ." Richie said.

"If you say it's summer one more f-f-f-fucking time," Bill muttered before letting his eyes flicker over his friends. Each one of them obviously wanted to stay right where they were and it made Bill even angrier than he already was. But then his eyes had landed on Y/N and his face softened ever so slightly as he noticed the utter pain in her eyes as she tried to limp forward and to him.

Shaking his head and knowing that not only would his friends not come, but that he couldn't allow Y/N to face that clown again, Bill turned around and grabbed his bike before beginning to bike away.

"Bill?" Y/N called after the boy, shoving Stan's grip away from her as she desperately tried to limp forward as fast as she could just to stop the boy from leaving by himself. "Wait!"

But Bill was already gone.

- - -

It took a minute for Y/N to convince Stan to let her on to his bike and another few minutes of convincing Eddie to allow her to leave with only a bandage lazily thrown over her wound, but the group was eventually biking after Bill side by side until they reached the Well House. Y/N could see Bill walking up the old stairs and her eyes widened before she yelled out, "Bill!"

Bill turned around in surprise, his eyes locking on Y/N who struggled to get off Stan's bike before she limped over to the stairs as fast as she could, wincing as she did. "Bill, you can't go in there," Y/N pleaded as she reached the stairs. "At least not alone."

Bill looked to the girl with surprise still evident on his face but it quickly washed away once he heard Beverly cry out, "This is crazy." Beverly and the others were behind Y/N in seconds and Bill frowned as he looked at the group.

"Look, you don't have to come in with me, but what happens when another Georgie goes missing, or another Betty or another Ed Corcoran or one of us? Are you just going to pretend it didn't happen like everyone else in this town? Because I can't. I go home and all I see is that Georgie isn't there, his clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animal but he isn't. So walking into this house for me. . .it's easier that walking into my own," Bill told them, his voice steady although he had tears in his eyes.

Bill then turned and finished walking up the stairs while Y/N watched him go with a sad look on her face. Her leg was on fire, but she didn't care at the moment because all that mattered was Bill.

"Wow," Richie muttered.

"What?" Ben asked.

"He didn't stutter once," Richie pointed out.

No one made a move to go after the boy and Y/N glanced at her friends before shaking her head and limping over to the stairs. It was a struggle to get up the stairs, but now that the adrenaline was coursing through her body and the initial pain of the injury was gone, it was bearable enough for her to be able to get through the pain for this.

Bill heard the footsteps before he could get to the door and he turned, his face softening at the sight of Y/N limping up the stairs. He didn't even hesitate before going over and holding a hand out for her. She took it and he helped her up the rest of the stairs before she stumbled slightly into him. Bill was quick to steady her and the two stared at each other in silence before Y/N gave him a small nod and whispered, "I'm with you."

Her words were enough to make Bill smile and his heart couldn't help but skip a beat as his feelings for the girl grew even more. He couldn't even find it in himself to tell the girl she couldn't come, for the way she looked at him dead in the eye and the seriousness of her voice was enough to tell him that she really would be by his side through this all, that she wouldn't let him do this alone even if she was hurt.

Y/N eventually tore her eyes away from Bill and looked to the others almost pleadingly and it didn't take much more than Bill's words and Y/N's pleading stare to have them start moving toward the stairs.

"Wait!" Stan cried out, instantly stopping everyone in their tracks. "Uhhh, shouldn't we have some people keep watch. You know, just in case something bad happens?"

Y/N didn't blame her cousin for not wanting to go into that house. After all, a small part of herself was telling her to grab her cousin and get on his bike before pedaling far away. But something was stopping her from doing so and she actually found herself wanting to go in there and kill that clown herself.

"Wh-Wh-Wh-Who wants to stay out here?" Bill asked and everyone in the group except for Bill, Beverly, and Y/N raised their hands. Richie was the first one to notice this and sighed as he lowered his hand.

"Fuck."

* * *

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152 notes · View notes

pixie88 · 4 years

Text

The Gala

Chapter 2 - Our Little Secret.

A/N: Queen B fanfiction. Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Find previous chapters HERE under Queen B - Our Little Secret.

Word count: 2165

WARNINGS: ⚠️ Some adult language and NSFW

Disclaimer: Characters are property of Pixelberry.

Pairings: Ian x MC - Lyla.

Enjoy!

I can feel my face getting hot with anger. "Lyla, don't worry I have the perfect outfit! I brought it for myself, but it didn't suit me" She pulls out a red dress with a plunging neckline. "Zo, this is gorgeous are you sure?" she smiles "Of course, Lyla" "Thank you, Zoey! What would I do without you?" "Not dress half as well as you do?" she laughs.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I roll over reaching for my phone to turn off my alarm and I realize it's the day of the Gala. I jump out of bed and into the shower.

Later me and Zoey are getting ready for the Gala, I decide on an updo, I'm just finishing up my make up when Gizmo jumps on /my lap. "Hey buddy, I wish I could take you tonight but I don't think dogs are allowed sorry" Zoey walks into my room.

"Ready?" "Yes!" I put Gizmo on the floor. "See you later boy!" I follow Zoey out to the limo as soon as we get in she opens the champagne and pours us both a glass. "To my girl winning the person to watch award!" we clink glasses.

We pull up outside the Gala to flashing cameras, we step out blinded "Come on, Lyla strike a pose!" I let them take a few photos before heading inside.

I spot Penelope and Taylor talking "Hey Lyla, Are you ready to dethrone Poppy?" Taylor asks I smile at her "Born ready!" "I can't wait to see the look on her face!" Penelope says.

I laugh the music starts Taylor wonders over to Benedict, they make their way to the dance floor "Aren't they cute" Penelope says "Yeah adorable!" "Penelope, would you like to dance?" Michael asks as he appears in front of us. She drags him to the dance floor, then I feel a presence behind me and I turn to find Ian inches away from me.

He smiles "Lyla, may I have this dance?" "Professor, I would love to but what would people say?" "To be honest, I don't care!" Wow, he's truly broken the barrier he put up between us. "Well in that case, I would love to" He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor.

I can see Poppy eyeing us up, but I don't care she has no proof. He places a hand on my lower back and his other hand takes mine, and we start to sway. He smiles at me "Lyla, you look stunning tonight!" I smile "Thank you, Ian. Well, we are paying compliments to each other I guess now is the perfect time to tell you that you look hot in that suit! It makes me want to rip off your clothes right here." His eyes darken.

"Lyla, you shouldn't say stuff like that!" I laugh, "Why? It's so much fun!" his lips brush my ear "As fun as me telling you that I want to take you back to my office and have a replay of yesterday?" I swallow hard (Ok, it's definitely not fun to tease!) "Well, I'd like nothing more Professor!" I wink.

The music changes to something more upbeat. Ian spins me, takes both my hands and moves us to the beat. "Wow, I didn't know you had moves like this, Ian!" he laughs a laugh, I've never heard before, "Neither did I," He spins me again but back into him, he holds me tightly against him and I feel his chest on my back.

I feel his breath on my neck close to my ear "Lyla, I know your going to win tonight and there is something I need to tell you" "What is it?" "Lyla, I....." the music stops and Dean Steinhelm comes over the speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you can please take your seats we will announce the winner of the Person to watch award!" I turn in his arms.

"Ian, what were you going to say?" he gives me a weak smile "Another time, Lyla. We better go back to our seats" "Ok, thanks for the dance Ian" he nods.

We make our way back to our seat before the dean speaks again. "There are so many talented young people here tonight. Each shine in their own light! It gives me great pleasure to announce the person to watch award goes to...............Ms. Lyla Hughes!" "Oh my god, Lyla Well done!" Zoey tells me.

I stand and make my way to the front while everyone is clapping. Dean Steinhelm welcomes me onto the stage, once I get to her, she smiles and congratulates me before handing the award and gestures me to make a speech.

I'm so nervous I kinda fumble my speech, but I thank who I need to. I make my way off the stage when I catch his eyes from across the room, he smiles and winks then makes his way towards the exit. The music starts up again everyone makes their way back onto the dance floor.

I look around the room no one is looking in my direction, I head for the door I saw Ian leave through. I walk through and see Ian waiting for me, he smiles "Congratulations, Lyla!" "Thanks, Ian!" I walk towards him and he cups my face.

"Are you going to congratulate me in another way?" His eyes widen and he swallows hard. "Yes, but not here," he takes my hand, and we make our way to the car park where Ian's car is parked.

20 Minutes later we pull up outside an apartment building, we get out, "Ian, where are we?" He smiles "My place" "Oh, you've never brought me here before," he takes my hand again. "I know, but I wanted to take you somewhere we wouldn't be interrupted" he leads me into the building, and we take the elevator.

It opens on the 3rd floor, we walk down the hall and get to a door when he pulls out his keys and unlocks the door. We step inside the apartment it is very Ian! I follow him into the living room, he grabs a bottle and 2 glasses from his mini bar in the corner, and we both take a seat on the couch.

He opens the bottle, pours us both a glass and hands me one. "Cheers, to you Lyla. The person to watch!" I smile at him and his eyes sparkle in the light. "Thank you again, Ian. Also, what was it you were going to tell me another time earlier?" he's gone shy.

His tongue parts my lips and swirls with mine "Hmmm Ian!" his hand cups my breast he squeezes lightly. Mine reach for the buttons on his suit jacket and begin to undo them. His hand move towards my back, I can feel him searching then he finds his goal and pulls down the zipper on my dress.

"Ian, what's wrong?" he smiles "Nothing, quite the opposite" he takes a sip of his wine before turning back to me, he takes a deep breath "Lyla, I love you" (OH MY GOD! Did he just...wow) "Ian, I....I love you too!" his face lights up before I know it his hand is tangled in my hair and his lips are on mine.

His lips never leave mine as I feel him pull the straps down off my shoulder. "Lyla, I've wanted to get you by yourself all evening!" he whispers against my lips. I smile "Why is that, Ian?" in one swift movement he picks me up into a bridal carry and starts walking towards what I guess is the bedroom.

He kicks open the door, I can't help giggle "Ian!!" he puts me down, and we stand next to the bed. He pulls down the rest of my dress, it falls to the floor I'm standing there in just my underwear he pulls me to him and I unbutton his shirt as his lips begin to caress my neck and I let my head fall back giving him more access.

His hands begin to explore my body starting with my breast, he pinches my hardened nipple I moan. I finally pull off his shirt, I run my hands over arms, his chest and down to his abs, my hand brushes against his hard member in his trousers.

I feel him nip my ear"Lyla, get on the bed" I do as I'm told, he takes off my killer heels then walks over to a draw opens it and pulls out a tie. "What are you planning on doing with that, Professor?" he walks over to the bed with a mischievous grin he climbs on to it, he hovers over me and his hand wraps around me helping me further up the bed.

He takes both my wrists and places the above my head, then begins to restrain me with his tie and ties me to the bed frame. "Is this how you want me? At your mercy?" his eyes light up and his lips met mine, he pulls away a little trapping my lip between his teeth before letting go. He whispers against my ear "Yes, I want to tease you until you can't take anymore. Just like you have been doing to me since we met!" his words give me flutters.

He kisses my neck again trailing down to my breast, he takes my nipple into his mouth and flicks his tongue over it"Ohhh...wow!" he moves again nipping my tummy as he heads south, he trails kisses to the inside of my thigh.

He pulls my underwear aside, I'm anticipating his next move, but he lets go and continues kissing down my leg "Argh! Ian that is teasing!" I hear a small laugh,"I know, Lyla!" he moves back up my leg I expect him to move pass my centre to meet my lips, but suddenly I feel him moving my underwear again and I feel his tongue laps my centre "God, yes just like that! Fuck Ian!" his tongue slips inside me.

He stops "What? No, don't stop!" I look down, he grins at me then his hands pull down my underwear, and he tosses them to the side. He brings my legs up and his head dives between them again, this time he's more urgent which makes me arch off the bed. He hits the right spot I don't think I can hold on any longer.

"Ian...YES!" I fall over the edge he comes up and places himself between my legs. I try to touch him, but I'm still tied up, he looks down at me with a smirk "Sorry, that isn't coming off just yet!" I huff when he starts to grind against me (I need friction, I need him inside me) "Ian..I need you" he's still smirking.

His lips meet mine, he kisses me passionately as he grinds against me harder. I can feel him through his trouser, I want him now and I know he wants me to. It isn't long before he pulls off his trousers and boxers.

He brushes against my centre then his length enters me slowly to start with then his pace becomes urgent "God, Lyla!" "Ohhh harder, Ian!" his thrusts speed up, he grabs the headboard which makes him go deeper and I wrap my legs round him. I buck my hips up to match his rhythm, but our moans are muffled by our kiss.

His thrust becomes so rough the bed moves and hits the wall, Ian pulls away and smirks "Good job my neighbors are away!" "So, we can be as loud as we like huh?" he smiles then while he's still thrusting into me, he unties me and flips me.

He pulls me onto my knees, spreads my legs a little, then enters me from behind as his hand makes it's way to the front of me, and he circles my button. With each thrust he goes deeper "Ian, I'm goi.....Ohhhh YES!!" I'm spent and Ian isn't far behind "Fuck...LYLA!" we collapse onto the bed next to each other.

He rolls onto his side and strokes my face "I love you, Lyla" I smile, "I love you too, Ian Kingsley!" he pulls me on top of him and kisses me. I can feel him stiffen against me, I start to grind against it, he pulls away "Round 2?" I smile before leaning in to kiss him again.

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzzzzzzzt!

The sun beams through the window I feel Ian's arm wrapped around me. Then I hear it again.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzt Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!

I nudge Ian "Ian, I think someone is at the door," he stirs and looks at the time it 10.06am. He gets off the bed and puts on his boxers. "Lyla, stay here," he leaves the room and I hear the front door open. I know that voice what is she doing here! I hear Ian asking her the same question "Lexi, why are you doing here?"

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 3.

#ian kingsley #ian #ian x mc #belvoire #kingsley #queen b #pixelberry #choices #poppy #zoey wade

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