#It felt like so many things id wanted from wc for so long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ovaryacted · 6 months

Text

FEELING THE VIBE

PAIRING: ID!Leon x fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: After taking some inspiration from a magazine's sex story column, you and your boyfriend indulge in reenacting one of your new fantasies.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn without plot. Oral (fem receiving). Body Worship. Overstimulation. Sex Toys. Sensory Depravation: Bondage & Blindfolding. Squirting. Multiple Orgasms. Dirty Talk. Praise. Domestication themes. Established relationship. Just Leon being a loving horny freak.

WC: 4.9k

NOTES: Finally after a little break, I have returned. This is the 3rd installment of my Kinktober (yes it's November I know), and it took a while for me to write this, but it's done. I was inspired by an erotic audio I heard a while back so I took a jab at it and made it my own. Sorry if it is a bit long, I tried to condense it but you can only fit so many words when writing out multiple orgasms. Anyway, you know the drill, I hope you like it, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

《 Kinktober Masterlist 2023 ⟡ Main Masterlist 》

“I want to try something”

Your voice cut through the comforting silence of your living room, body shifting on the couch from where you sat. As your head remained pressed against soft cotton and muscle, your lover tilted his face to look down towards you.

“Don’t know if I should be excited or scared”, that got Leon a playful slap on the shoulder and a roll of your eyes, making him chuckle in the process.

“Lay it on me then sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”, he watched as you nervously bit your lip, sitting up to face him directly.

“Do you remember that magazine from a week ago? The one you snatched from me?”, you told him, and his mind flashed back to the faint memory of the interaction.

“And what’s this?”, Leon only grinned as he took the Cosmopolitan magazine from your hands after you flipped to the next page. He moved towards the kitchen, laughing as you chased him to get your precious publication back.

“Ooooo, top 10 sex stories hmm? So this is what you’ve been reading?”

“Leon quit playing! Give it back!”, you tried to snatch it from him but you knew it was futile. The moment his eyes scanned the page you were on, you could tell you lost the battle.

“Me and my husband have been together for 6 years now and decided to spice things up in the bedroom. We did some research on things we could try and found out about sensory deprivation and overstimulation. That was something a bit trendy and I was intrigued, and I could speak for a few people who like me read Cosmopolitan for sex help so I decided to do some research. How kinky…”, you wanted to wipe the smirk clean off his face as he read the story you were skimming through. He took a second to look at you, and then back to the page as he continued reading it in his signature sarcastic tone.

“Over the weekend, after some wine we got in the mood and we tried out a few things. He tied me to the bed and blindfolded me while using one of my toys on me, which was all so new to us. I’ve never felt anything like that before, didn’t even know it was possible for me to cum so many times. I loved it, and my husband loved it probably a little too much because now he’s borderline obsessed with me. Thank you for all the work you do with your sex tips, you just made my marriage more fun, closing the orgasm gap one couple at a time. Much love!”, Leon finished reading the page, snickering when you finally grabbed it from him. “Wasn’t that something. You really read stuff like that?”

“No, I don’t. It just popped up on the page alright…”, your blush couldn’t be missed no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, and Leon only wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“If you wanted to try something new, all you had to do was tell me you know? It sounds like fun”, he teased at the suggestion, not making a big deal out of the idea of trying new things in the bedroom, but you knew he had your best interests in mind.

“You mean that?”, embarrassment aside, you looked at him, blue eyes full of sincerity. “I was just curious, and I was nervous to mention it I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to be nervous about anything, I’m not one to judge your fantasies anyway. You have them, I have them, everyone does. Whatever you want to do, no matter how crazy it seems, you tell me. I just want to make you happy”, Leon reassured you once more, holding your chin and giving you a soft kiss on the lips with a smile. “So go read more of your sex magazine, I’m going to start cooking”

“It is not just a sex magazine you know”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say”

“The one with the sex stories? Yeah, why?”, his voice brought you to the present once more, back to where you both sat on the couch.

“That one story you read out loud, I want to try that”, you felt your cheeks get warm at the change in topic. The gears in Leon’s head started to turn, his mind catching up to understand what you meant.

“Oh…oh. Like right now?”, he watched as you moved closer to him, your hands going from his chest to caress the hair at the back of his neck.

“Yes, right now. I’m bored, and I want you to entertain me. Please?”, your face hovered over his, the ends of your noises touching lightly.

“Well when you ask so nicely, how could I say no to you”, he gave you exactly what you wanted and kissed you. His hands were on your hips, bringing you towards his lap and wrapping your legs around his body.

With ease, he lifted you from the couch, smiling against your lips as you released a giggle. His fingers dug into the bottom of your thighs, walking towards your shared bedroom and plopping you onto the mattress. He couldn’t help himself as he stole more kisses from you, the growing stubble on his chin rubbing against your face. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, wanting to bring him closer to you if that were possible.

Pulling away from you, he grew more handsy, taking off your loungewear and keeping your underwear on while you removed his shirt in the process, his sweats hanging low on his hips. No matter how many times you got him like this, you never got tired of the view.

“You know, ever since I read that little column I did some shopping”, Leon said, moving away from you to dig through the closet for something. You sat up on your elbows, observing him walk back with a blindfold and a pair of fuzzy-lined handcuffs. Your eyebrows raised at him, not knowing what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Did you buy this stuff?”, you chuckled nervously, making Leon laugh with you.

“I mean yeah, I wanted to be prepared”, you almost snorted at the thought of your boyfriend being so attentive he did his own research to fulfill your experiences. If only you knew the lengths he went to type in BDSM toys on his phone when you weren’t paying attention.

“You’re such a dork”, you shook your head, bringing him back down to kiss him again in appreciation. “But it’s cute”

“I try to be. You still want to try this?”, he eyed your face carefully, making sure there weren’t any doubts in wanting to engage in your fantasy.

“Yeah, I do. Do you want to? This shouldn’t be just about me you know”

“Whatever gets you off gets me off, you know that. Now, enjoy my face one more time, you won’t be seeing it for a bit”

Leon brought the blindfold towards your eyes, tying it snugly behind your head as the soft material covered you, forcing you into a pit of darkness. It wasn’t uncomfortable, by any means, it was the complete opposite. The fact that you couldn’t see anything and had to rely on Leon’s voice was enough to make the hairs on your arms stand up.

“How’s that? Not uncomy or anything?”, you heard Leon speak, making you nod and release an airy exhale.

“Yeah, it’s good. I don’t see anything”

“Good. Arms up honey, I ain’t done yet”, that command sent a shiver down your spine, and you followed his directions instantly.

Laying down on the bed and lifting your arms above your head, you felt the bed shift as Leon got on his knees. The soft material of the lined handcuffs wrapped around your wrists, and you heard the soft click of them locking in place between the wooden bars of the headboard. They were tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to slip out of them, but comfortable so they didn’t leave marks on your skin.

Not that you would’ve minded that.

“How about now?”, your head moved towards the sound of Leon’s voice again, the added constraint of not being able to see or touch him made your heart rate spike.

“Still good, kinda sad I can’t touch or see you”, you pouted when you said that, getting another chuckle out of Leon. The sound alone warmed up your body, and your imagination began to run wild at what he had in store for you.

“I remember the magazine said they used toys, and I know you have a few. You still want me to use one on you?”, the prospect of Leon using whatever you had tucked away in your bedside drawer made your core ache.

“Yeah, you can use one”, your voice got the slightest bit more breathless, and you could swear you envisioned him smiling.

“I won’t tell you which one I use, but I’ll leave it up to you to figure it out”

You heard shuffling towards your left and the sound of a drawer opening, blushing as Leon looked at your cluster of toys. He wasn’t an idiot, knowing full well you had to handle your own needs when he was gone for days to weeks at a time on missions or being held up in D.C. But seeing them all up close, some that he’s personally gotten for you, left him almost stunned at your ever-growing collection.

“Eennie…meenie…miny…moe”, Leon counted off, shaking your head in disbelief at how he still managed to find the time to be humorous. You felt the mattress dip again, signaling that he was back on the bed, at least that was how you imagined it anyway.

Rough fingertips skimmed over your bare thigh, followed by you taking a shaky breath at the touch. It wasn’t unexpected, but you felt your other senses going into overdrive with your loss of sight. Leon’s fingers moved from grazing your thigh, up your lower stomach and towards your chest. He skated across one of your nipples, making you gasp out and crave more with the slightest arch of your back.

“Somebody’s sensitive”

“Shut up and quit teasing”, your eyebrows furrowed in irritation at him, growing impatient at how he was toying with you.

“Feisty too. Do you really want to say that when you’re like this? You asked me to do this baby”, he was mocking you now, finding enjoyment in your predicament.

You didn’t have a second to complain more when Leon’s lips were on yours again, groaning in his mouth as he forced it open with his own. The tip of his tongue lined your bottom lip, and you happily opened up so he could slip it inside.

Your tongue caressed his, submitting to the attention while his hands went to squeeze at your breasts. He groped and kneaded, his thumb and pointer finger pinching your nipples and swallowing the moans you made. Drawing away from you, he watched how you chased his lips and your wrists yanked on the handcuffs in an attempt to reach out to him.

“You look so pretty like this, all tied up for me to play with”, your ears perked up at the way Leon’s voice dropped an octave, knowing that he was getting into it as much as you were.

His lips were on your neck, kissing wherever he could while he kept your hips pinned to the bed with one hand. You felt his stubble rubbing against you as he continued on his path, sucking at your collarbone and leaving faint marks for you to cover with concealer the next morning. Moving towards your left breast, he popped your neglected nipple in his mouth. You cursed loudly at the feel, pulling on the handcuffs again as you desired to run your fingers through his hair knowing you couldn’t.

Leon hummed against your skin, tongue lavishing the hardened nub and touching the other absentmindedly. His head moved to suck at the other nipple, giving it the same attention and mouthing at it loudly so you could hear his suckling. Giving you one harsh bite on your chest he blew on the wet skin, your thighs twitching as he did.

More wet kisses followed in between the valley of your breasts, down to your lower stomach, and over your navel. His mouth trailed over the waistband of your panties, dragging down one side of it until your bare hip was shown to him, nipping at the skin. You whimpered under him when he slipped the offending material down your legs and flung it to God knows where. Your legs parted for him instinctively, much to Leon’s enjoyment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want. Let me have my fun”, his lips ghosted your right thigh, starting from the inner crease of your hip and down to the side of your knee. He didn’t stop his kissing, shifting down to your ankle before going up on the other leg. Your breathing was labored by the time he reached your other hip, fingers curling around your thigh to spread you open for him.

You yelped when he placed a soft kiss on your clit, hips shooting towards his direction for more despite being pinned down. He hummed at your reaction, kissing around where you needed him most but never giving you more than what he decided was enough.

“Leon please…”, you pulled at the handcuffs again, the sound of metal rattled against the headboard you were bound to.

“My needy baby”, he huffed a breath, tilting his head to give your twitching nub a good suck. You threw your head back at the sensation, wishing he would give you more but he moved away before you were satisfied. Already growing frustrated with him, you lamented when you couldn’t feel his face against you anymore, your head dropping on the pillow and pondering what he would do next.

That was when you heard it, the soft buzzing that began to fill the walls of your bedroom. He had one of your toys in his hands and the mystery of not knowing which one added to the appeal of this entire dynamic.

“Open up your legs for me, I’ll make you feel good”, Leon’s promise filtered through your ears, and you followed through, bending your legs at the knee and spreading them more.

The first sensation of the vibrator against your clit made you jerk up, taking a second to let your body adjust to it. Your mind was trying to focus on which one of your toys Leon picked out, and from the way he pressed it more onto your body, it had to be the dual vibrator you liked to use the most for its two attachments. Smartass.

You pushed your hips out towards the toy, chasing the feeling as it filled your body with pleasure. Softly humming at the consistent pattern Leon chose, he let you grind towards him for more. Although you couldn’t see him, you knew he was watching you, taking in the way you shuddered when he angled the smaller tip just the way you liked.

“That feel good?”, you nodded, beginning to feel the vibrations take over your body slowly.

“Let me take it up a notch”

Your lower stomach did flips when Leon increased the intensity of the toy, your back curving off the bed with a cry. The sounds of the vibrator grew louder, paired with the lewd wetness that got worse as it started to seep out of you. Strong hands wrapped around your thigh again, keeping you spread open as you fought the urge to close them from the added onslaught on your body.

The prior teasing left you worked up the moment you hit the mattress, and you could feel your first orgasm bubbling in your gut. Leon saw it too, pressing the toy harder on your clit and moving it up and down against the wet skin, mimicking the way his tongue would stroke you. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, your face turning in hopes of getting a kiss but he opted out to whisper in your ear instead.

“Come on baby, I know you’re close. Give it to me. Be a good girl and cum for me”

It was an easy request, the rubberband of tension snapping harshly as your first release washed over you. You moaned loudly, pulling against the handcuffs again and digging your nails into your palm. Leon praised you along the way, talking you through it to make up for your loss of sight. You half expected him to take the wand off your body and leave it at that, but he didn’t stop. Another pathetic whine slipped out of you, realizing he wasn’t going to give you a break and planned on pushing you to the limit.

“That’s one. You can give me another right?”, it was a question of reassurance, but you couldn’t tell him to stop even if you wanted to.

The waves of pleasure lingered in your body and the vibrations continued, your breath hitching as you didn’t get a moment to breathe. Cumming more than once wasn’t new to your sex life, hell it became essential once you and Leon met and started messing around. But having no pause in what was being done to you was fairly new, and you started to think you bit off more than you could chew when asking for this.

But this was what you signed up for, and you were going to enjoy every second of it.

“F-Fuck, yeah. Just please, please…”, you wantonly replied to him, giving him full control to do whatever he wanted, so long as it left you satisfied.

Leon flicked his wrist then, repositioning the other end of the vibrating toy against your entrance and nudging your outer lips. You clenched around nothing, yearning for the emptiness to be filled with something, anything you could get.

“Yeah, I know your pretty pussy wants to be filled up. I’ll give you what you need”, Leon’s voice grew husky, biting his lower lip and feeling his cock throb in his sweatpants.

He fulfilled his promise, slowly inserting the second bulbous silicone tip into your body. You tugged at the handcuffs harshly, a loud sob falling from your lips at how your drooling canal wrapped around the toy snugly. It was as if your entire body was vibrating now, not being able to escape the dual sensation of your clit and g-spot being stimulated at the same time.

“That’s it sweetheart, that’s it”, Leon was enjoying this too much, maintaining the same level of intensity with the toy and starting to thrust it at an even tempo.

You felt hot to the touch, getting closer to elation with every electric beat that filled your limbs. Loud moaning was exchanged for choked breaths, your head lolling to one side of the pillow and trying to stay grounded. The familiar coil wrapped tighter around you, bucking your hips towards Leon’s hands as if it were instinct. You whimpered again, the rhythm of the toy’s pulsing getting stronger with a single press of a button.

“Shit, shit, L-Leon please…”, you started to get scared at the intensity of your second release, the speed of how it crept up on you taking you off guard.

“I know baby, I know. Cum for me again, I know you can”, he encouraged you once more, upping the voltage on the toy to the max setting and watching hungrily at your squirming figure.

One more drive inside you was all it took for you to seize up, a noisy wail emitting from your throat as you came around the toy. Your climax was damn near violent, liquid fire filling your gut and spilling out underneath you. Your mind reached a state of nirvana you never touched before, ears ringing and an all-consuming shock rippling from your feet up to the top of your head. You were so out of it you couldn’t feel the way your fluids drenched the sheets below, instead leaving it to Leon to watch it all happen.

The only thing keeping you grounded to the mattress was a large hand on your hip, squeezing in an attempt to soothe your trembling thighs. You felt like you were floating, intense relief paired with a desperate need for more you couldn’t explain. On the next inhale, the toy was turned off and carefully pulled out of you, leaving your hole dripping and convulsing.

“I didn’t know you could do that”, you heard Leon say again, struggling to slow your heartbeat that pounded in your chest.

“What do you mean?”, you asked quizzically, your eyesight growing blurry when the blindfold was taken off your head. Your pupils focused on the blonde’s face, noticing how he looked at you in awe.

“You just squirted all over the bed”, you felt your cheeks turn red, embarrassed as you felt the way your entire lower half went numb, the ghost of the vibrations still running over you. He didn’t give you the chance to wallow in your shame, his voice running through the reeling mess of your mind.

“Want to watch you do it again”, he purred at you with a grin, moving down your body and lifting your legs onto his shoulders.

Leon’s head was in between your legs, lapping away at your folds and groaning at the sweetness of you filling his tongue. He was messy with it, audibly sucking everything you had to give and all you could do was take it. His warm tongue flicked at your oversensitive clit, having to dig your face into your forearm to stop yourself from shouting. The handcuffs clinked above you from where you were stuck to the headboard, your nails leaving indents in your skin.

“Leon I c-can’t. It’s too much”, you mewled when Leon gave you a harsher suck, his fingers teasing your pussy, still hot and wanting more despite your words.

“You can give me another one, don’t play with me”, he growled at you, slipping two thick fingers inside you and curling against that spot tucked at the roof of your body.

“Your needy cunt isn’t telling me no, and I’m not stopping until you squirt for me again. I know you can”, he marveled at the lack of resistance as he burrowed his fingers deep inside you, going back to lick at your clit.

He was greedy in the way he feasted on you, licking at you in precise circles as the tips of his fingers jabbed at your g-spot consistently. Every sound that came out of your mouth was broken, whining every time he drew his digits out just to push back into you. Slyly, he switched techniques, curling his fingers against the textured spot inside you and sucking at your clit in pulses, pressing a hand against your lower stomach.

The pit of flames was lit again, static filling your body and your sight becoming bleary with tears. You couldn’t stop the internal carnal heat from growing, the same sharp feeling from your last release being renewed with every pump of Leon’s fingers. It was too much too quickly, your face growing flushed and losing sense of reality the closer you got to the edge.

“Please, Leon I-”, you didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore, needing both more and less at the same time and not knowing which one you preferred.

“Soak my fucking face baby. Do it so I can fuck you. C’mon, give it to me, I need it”

His words were the last nails in the coffin, your face twisting in a silent scream of pure bliss. You felt like you were being engulfed in flames as your third release in 15 minutes swallowed you whole, an out-of-body experience that didn’t seem to stop. It was as if you were tumbling over a high that never crashed, not knowing where the first climax ended or the next one began. All the energy you had left was sucked completely out of you quite literally, your eardrums rang and your legs wouldn’t stop quivering against the bed.

Leon’s head appeared from between your legs with the widest grin you had ever seen on him. His lips were plump, and the stubble that adorned his jaw was covered in your wetness. You were too dazed to pay close attention to the way he licked at his lips, chasing the remaining flavor of you.

“You want a taste too?”, he said, grabbing your jaw and kissing you sloppily. He made sure to let your mouth fill with the tanginess that he familiarly recognized as your essence, the both of you panting as your tongues meshed together.

“Let me fuck you, please”, Leon almost begged for it, sweats halfway down his thighs and his cock already positioned against you. Weakly, you nodded, not even bothering to lift your head when he slid deep inside you so smoothly.

“Fuuckkk, you’re soaked, so goddamn warm”, he was mumbling under his breath, chasing his own pleasure and using your body for it. You were more than willing, not being able to do much of anything but just take it.

Leon didn’t hold back in the slightest, pounding into your body while your hands remained above your head. His hands held on to your thighs, hips smacking into yours harshly with every shove of his dick inside you. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, body growing limp, and the pleasure evolved as you tipped between the edge of overstimulation and pain. You desperately wanted to touch him, to feel him pressed against you, but you could only take what was given to you.

Lightbulbs went off in Leon’s head, grabbing the tossed toy from the side of the bed and turning it back on. He pressed it against your clit once more, a rough grumble coming from deep within his chest as he felt the vibrations filling his body. You cried out, the handcuffs rattling above your head as your body felt like it was being pushed beyond what you thought was possible. Tears ran down your flushed cheeks, Leon not giving you a moment to adjust and losing himself in his insurgency to feel you cum around him.

“I can’t, I c-can’t”, you were begging for mercy, knowing full well Leon wouldn’t give it to you until you fell over the edge one more time.

“One more. Give me one more sweetheart, and I’ll stop. Need to feel you cum for me one more time, I got you baby, I got you”, he was like a man possessed, fucking you in a reckless frenzy as you tightened around him.

You didn’t know if you had it in you to cum again, but Leon was persistent as always. He upped the speed on the vibrator, pressing it harder against your oversensitive nub up and down like he did before. It was too extreme, making you choke on air and your throat grow raw from the sounds that will end up giving you a noise complaint.

The next moment your nerves short-circuited and your mind went blank, your fourth climax pummeling through you so aggressively you couldn’t contain the scream that came out of you. It was the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, reaching the point of pain from the oversensitivity, and your lower stomach cramped from the force of it. You didn’t hear Leon when he praised you again, his voice sounding distant and far away as black spots filled your vision.

He filled your cunt with his hot seed right after, bottoming inside you until he couldn’t get any deeper. Turning the toy off completely and reaching up to undo the handcuffs, he was gentle in touching you again. A part of him was ready to beg for forgiveness, for pushing you too hard and getting carried away. But those thoughts dispelled from his mind when your arms weakly wrapped around his shoulders, silently relieved you didn’t black out on him.

“I don’t think I can move”, your voice cracked when you talked, stray tears lining your eyes and he wiped at your cheeks. You were trembling underneath him, your legs quaked despite not being able to move them. Your body felt heavy, like it was sinking into the mattress, but you’ve never experienced such profound pleasure it left you immobilized.

“Sorry about that. You did so good for me, so damn good. Did you like that?”, he whispered into your neck, kissing your skin as you nodded, both starting to come down from your respective highs.

He hadn’t slipped out yet, just letting the both of you bask in the afterglow of this new experience. Had he known he could make you feel this good, he would’ve tried this a long time ago.

“We should do this again”

“Oh we are. I gotta break my record of making you cum four times”, you hit him on the shoulder again, aware that his words were half serious. Meanwhile, he was already plotting in his head how he could make you reach numbers five and six.

“So does this mean you’re going to keep doing your research on my sex stories?”, he lifted his head to look at you, a smirk already on his face.

“That depends. Which ones do you want to try next?”

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

taglist: @roseglazedlens @kennedyswhore @httpsvix @daydreamrot @dmitriene @scar-crossedlvrs @valsthea

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfic #resident evil smut #id!leon kennedy #resident evil leon kennedy #ovaryacted fics #ovaryacted kinktober #kinktober 2023 #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

515 notes · View notes

pahtoosh · 3 months

Note

Hi, I’m not sure if your requests are open at the moment, but I figured I’d try anyway!

Would you be willing to write about Stucky and their little having a day out together? Like going to the zoo, the aquarium, or perhaps go swimming? Whatever you feel like writing is fine, even it is an entirely different activity!

I absolutely adore your work, so I can’t wait to see where you will take this idea 🩷

sleeping with the fishes

[image ID: a gif of fish swimming. /.end ID]

masterlist

sfw but 18+

wc: ~780 words

warnings: lots of being picked up and carried, not proofread

a/n: thank you so much for your kind words! this is such a sweet request, it’s my favorite thing to just write about a fun and fluffy day😁i hope you enjoy this and that i didn’t make you wait too long😅

pairing: daddy!stucky x little!reader

summary: your daddies take you on a trip to the aquarium

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Woah, woah! Slow your roll, fish patrol.”

“There’s no time, Baba! We have to go the ‘quarium!” It was almost unreal how quickly you were moving while simultaneously not getting any closer to the front door. You were running out to the car when Bucky stopped you with a grip on the back of your jacket. That didn’t stop you from jogging midair, though.

“Ah-quarium.” He plopped you onto the small bench in the entryway. “And I’m pretty sure there’s enough time for you to at least put on some shoes before we leave the house.”

Bucky kneeled in front of you so he could help you get on a pair of sneakers. He made sure to double knot the laces, knowing that you would have no patience for getting your shoes retied today.

“Dada! Are you almost ready?!” you shouted down the hall.

Steve sped walked out of your room with a backpack of stuff. “Almost! There’s a lot to pack for a full day out of the house.”

You whined and tried stomping your feet, forgetting that Bucky was still putting on your shoes.

“Hey, no whining and no kicking Baba,” Steve reprimanded. “We’ll get there with plenty of time to spare, baby. The fish aren’t going to swim away.”

“They might,” Bucky teased.

“Nooooo!”

“Buck, c’mon.”

Bucky grinned mischievously and gave you ticklish kisses on your face before helping you off the bench. “I’m only kidding, angel. Let’s get you in the car and buckled up while we wait for Dada.”

After what felt like a million hours, you were finally at the aquarium. Your daddies went over some safety rules while you were still in the car and once you showed that you understood, it was go time.

There were so many exhibits to discover. The tanks seemed to go on forever, all with different species of fish, snails, crabs, turtles, and other animals that you’d never seen before.

The aquarium offered something for the whole family. Still a science nerd, Bucky enjoyed reading the information cards placed by the tanks. Some of the animals and their habits reminded him so much of the aliens he read about in his sci fi novels. Steve was keeping a mental note of the animals he wanted to draw for you later. He even took pictures of a few to serve as a reference. Meanwhile, you practically had your nose pressed on the glass, just admiring the fish with an overwhelming sense of wonder.

When you saw something especially cool, you’d tug on the sleeve of your nearest daddy and point. You couldn’t just witness something so special and not share it. One of the best moments was when you pointed out a scuba diver in the large tank to your Dada. The diver noticed you and started a game of rock, paper, scissors through the glass.

One of the safety rules for the day was that you had to either wear a leash backpack or hold a daddy’s hand the whole time. In the beginning, you chose to hold hands, but then you switched to the backpack for more freedom(and because your daddies either walked too slowly or had no idea which tanks were ones to stop and stare at and which ones just needed a quick glance).

You could’ve stayed at the aquarium forever, but eventually it was time to go home. Steve and Bucky could tell you were getting sleepy. You got a little more clumsy, often getting tangled in your backpack leash, and asked them to hold you more often. Your daddies suspected that some of the requests to be carried had nothing to do with needing to see from a higher point, and much to do with your tired legs.

“This was the last tank, bubba. Now we’re going to the gift shop and then going home, okay?” Steve said.

You sighed. “Okay, Dada. Can I take a picture of the jellyfish first? Please?”

“Yes you can, baby. Good manners.” Steve held you still while you took a photo of the jellyfish tank with your camera.

As the three of you went to the gift shop, you asked Bucky to hold your camera so you could hold your hands behind Steve’s neck and place your head on his shoulder. He of course said yes. Your Baba also snapped a sneaky shot of Steve carrying sleepy little you using your camera.

You were practically already dozing off by the time you made it to the gift shop, but your daddies still went in and asked if you wanted anything to remember this trip by. You ended up leaving with a beluga whale plush, which you cuddled with the entire way home.

#inspiration has struck!!#stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #oneshot #fluff #sfw regression #agere fic #marvel agere #littlespace fics #sleeping with the fishes #sleeping-with-the-fishes #toosh writes #little being carried

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brewsterispunkk · 4 months

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diamonds and stones, part one

pairing: clyde logan x f!reader (no use of y/n)

WC: 9k(!!)

summary: reader returns home & encounters some ghosts from her past.

warnings: 18+! language, mentions of war, amputation.

a/n: it's here!! i hope y'all enjoy this long ass chapter (this is so long its embarrassing LOL). there's some time skipping/flashbacks here so i hope it's not too hard to follow! as always, any feedback is appreciated :)

series masterlist

ONE

The phone had barely rung two times before you answered, thumb punching the accept call button as soon as you glanced at the caller ID. Pulling the phone up to your ear, you looked ahead at the cornfields and the open road in front of you. Your mom’s crackly voice filled your ears.

“Darlin’,” she sighed on the other end. So, she’d gotten your message.You thought to yourself.

Mentally, you kicked yourself for giving her any notice in the first place. You knew she’d try to talk you out of it, like she had successfully done the previous two times you’d tried moving back home.

“You got out, honey.” she’d say. “You got to do what I never did. You went to college, you got your degree, you moved to the city. Don’t throw that away. There ain’t nothin’ for you here.”

You hated that she referred to your hometown like that, the place that raised you: a place to get out of. Sometimes you missed it like you missed a limb.

And after your Gramma’s first stroke it had worked, no matter how guilty you felt for being states away while she recovered.

It had been a minor stroke, the summer before your junior year of college. Not fatal, or with too many lasting health complications, but it had been enough to scare you. It had been enough to scare you into almost dropping out of college and moving home, but your mother and grandmother had insisted that you go back after she’d begun the road to recovery.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason you decided to go back, a small voice in the back of your head whispered.

Two dark brown eyes danced in your mind's eye; freckles scattered sparsely across tan cheeks, a rumble of a laugh, the crackle of a tape on an old car radio. You dispelled it before you allowed your mind to wander further.

That’s in the past, you insisted, chastising that quiet voice trying to bring up old ghosts.

You wouldn’t let your mind go there again. He left, you reminded yourself, instead resolving to focus on the road in front of you, and the nagging voice of your mother in your ear.

She sighed your name.

“I told you not to come, honey. This is the whole reason we waited so long to tell you–”

“I’m already on the road, mom.” You interrupted her. “I moved out earlier this week, and I’m already on my way home. No use in trying to change my mind on this when it’s already done.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you were met with radio silence; Your mother was speechless. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again. Secretly, inside you’re smug. You’ve managed to outsmart her.

“You’re on the road right now?” She asked in that familiar disapproving short tone.

“As we speak,” you shifted, holding the wheel with one hand and slouching in your seat. Your mother sighed again.

“Stop that,” she said, displeasure evident in her voice.

“Stop what, mama? Driving?”

“Stop sounding so smug,” She scolded in that tone that all mothers have perfected, before addressing you by your full name. “This is gonna upset your Gramma. The last thing she wanted was you putin’ your whole life on hold for this.”

“‘For this?’” You asked in disbelief. “Mama, I can’t believe you waited more than a whole month to tell me the cancer was back in the first place! As if it was none of my business!”

You could practically hear her eye-roll through the phone.

“Now don’t be ridiculous.” She simpered. “We didn’t wanna upset you is all. And we certainly didn’t want you doin’ something so rash, like this.”

You rolled your eyes. This woman was impossible.

“Mom, I’d been considering leaving for a long time. My lease was up, Carla got married. This was just the final nail in the coffin. It was a long time comin’.”

“But you seemed so happy, baby.” she cooed.

“I don’t care! I deserve to know if my grandma is dying or not, and you have no right to keep it from me!”

You were met with silence. It was your turn to sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded softly. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I was just scared of something like this happening. You can’t expect me to believe that this whole thing didn’t cause you to up and move home out of the blue.”

“I know, mama, but it’s the truth.” You paused, before continuing, “I put in my notice weeks ago. I’ve missed home. A lot. The city is…so loud. And there are no mountains near Chicago. The land is so flat, and–”

“I know baby, I know.” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the line.

She was no doubt calling from the landline in the kitchen at the old house. Thinking of it, your heart yearned. You missed it so much.

“It’s just that this was your dream, baby. And I just know your Gramma’s gonna blame herself for you giving that up.”

“Mom, I’m not giving anything up,” you emphasized the last part, trying to get it through her head. “I still have my dreams, Chicago just wasn’t it. It took me a while to realize that, but I have. And I have no idea where I wanna go or what I wanna do next, but I do know that I miss home. I was planning on coming back even before I found out.”

“Alright,” she began, but you wouldn’t let her continue. You needed to get this out.

“And, that combined with the fact that Gramma’s cancer is back means there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me.”

“Alright,” she sighed on the other line. “I suppose there’s nothin’ I can do about it now. How did you find out in the first place? You never mentioned in that hysterical voicemail you left–”

“I had reason to be hysterical, don’t you think? Findin’ out from Jimmy Logan and all.”

“Jimmy Logan?” she asked in surprise. “Now what were you doin’ talkin’ to him? Did he finally buck up and get a cell phone?”

“Yes, he did,” you chuckled, “Mellie finally convinced him. Anyway, after she helped him get his contacts in order, the first thing he did was give me a ring, saying how sorry he was to hear about Gramma bein’ sick again.”

“But how? I didn’t even tell Jimmy Logan. The only people we told were the ladies in prayer group.”

You laughed.

“Oh, you know how word gets around. Jimmy heard it from Earl at the hardware store, who heard it from Irene, who heard it from her momma, who, if I’m not mistaken, is in your prayer group.”

“Well,” your mother huffed. “I suppose that is how it goes. I’ll tell you one thing, your Gramma will be happy to see you, no matter the circumstance.”

“I know,” you sighed, glad that the air was at least a little cleared between you. You were still hurt that she’d kept something as important as your Gramma’s illness from you, but you understood where she was coming from. She just wanted what was best for you, wanted you to have everything she didn’t.

“Speaking of them Logans,” your mom said. “Have you told her you’re coming home?”

You laughed into the phone.

“Yes, Mellie knows I’m coming home.” You were surprised that she’d even assumed you hadn’t told the youngest Logan about your returning. She’d kill you if you didn’t.

“Good. I know she’s missed you. Last week while she was doin’ my hair, she told me a girl’s weekend every few months and a phone call just wasn’t cutting it.”

Mellie’s face flashed in your mind, and the feeling of dread at returning home started to dissipate. She had that effect on you; Ever since you met nearly 20 years earlier. You smiled, as your mind drifted back to then.

1995

You’d never imagined coming to a new school would ever be this hard. You’d expected it to be like how you’d seen it happen in TV shows or books or those kids movies you liked so much; Where after a rocky start with school bullies, the new kid fell in with the perfect group of friends and everything was fine. That was what you’d anticipated: The melodrama, the excitement. What you hadn’t expected was the monotony and loneliness.

Entering the third grade in october–two and a half months into the term–was never easy. At least that’s what your grandma had told you, and her being your grandma, you were inclined to believe her.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” she’d told you. “And kids can be real mean, darlin’. Especially when you’re new and they don’t know you. But, you just show them how kind, and special, and smart, and funny you are, and you won't have no problem fittin’ in.”

And you’d expected it to be that easy. Boy were you wrong.

On your first day at Daniel Boone Elementary, you’d expected to be met with a little wariness (what with being the new kid and all), but had hoped, in the end, to make at least one new friend to tell your mom and grandma about when you got off the bus and went home. Instead, you got the usual strange introduction to the class by your new teacher, and that was that. No kids even came up to talk to you. You ate your PB&J sandwich alone at lunch, and spent recess alone on the swings.

The following months went by in a similar manner: no new friends in sight. All the girls in your class were either too preoccupied with your hand-me-down clothes to play with you, or too shy to. And the boys wanted nothing to do with the weird new girl with too-knobby knees and too-big teeth because even if you liked the exact same things as them, you were still a girl, which meant you had cooties.

So, at home you’d drift away and pass your time the only time you knew how: through stories. Whether it be babysitters’ club books or PBS kids documentaries on your grandma’s old box TV, your head was always in the clouds. You’d be cryptic when your grandma or mom would ask about school, and they’d begun to notice. Before the snow came and the world froze over for winter, you’d also begun to explore the property behind your grandma’s house, getting lost in nature as you used to.

By spring, your grandma was at a standstill.

The snow was thawing, and after a winter indoors, she was at her wits end. She could recognize a depressive episode when she saw one, and the fact that she was seeing it in you, her eight-year-old granddaughter, made her heart break all the more.

She had been just about ready to call an intervention with the school’s principal and psychologist when it happened. You met the person who would change your life.

You’d met Mellie Logan once before, roughly a month after your arrival in Boone County, when you were still new enough to be considered the least bit interesting at Daniel Boone Elementary. She was a year older than you and about a head shorter, with the same shade of rich brown hair as the older boy you’d recognized her sit with on the bus; Her brother, Jimmy Logan who was a middle schooler, but not the least bit embarrassed to sit by his little sister on the ride home, tugging playfully on her braids. She was in Ms. Granfell’s class down the hall, with whom your class shared a recess and lunch time, along with some of the 6th graders.

It had been on the bus that you’d had your brief first encounter with Mellie Logan. She and about five other kids got off a few stops before yours, down Elm street, and rather than the fact that she had one older brother, that was about all you knew about the girl, and that was all the thought you’d given to her.

The encounter was a small one: your backpack had been in the aisle as the kids filed in from the school at the end of a school-day in early November and she’d muttered a quiet “pardon me,” as she passed you to her usual seat at the back of the bus where her brother was already seated, and that was that. You barely knew her.

Now, though, as you sat in the school principal’s office, bright fluorescent lights shining over the deep mahogany desk, you felt that all of that was going to change. Mellie sat beside you, eyebrows knit together obstinately as she stared directly ahead of her at the clock on the opposite wall, frowning.

It read: 1:23. You sighed.

That meant that you were missing library time with the rest of your class while being holed up in here, waiting while the principal made calls to each of your parents that they had to come pick you up and discuss the incident.

Your stomach sunk in annoyance as you crossed your arms and slumped down further into the armchair next to Mellie.

Great, now they have even more of a reason to think I’m weird, you thought. That was the last thing you needed. You were already having a hard time fitting in in the first place, with girls like Heather Campbell making faces at you and snickering when it was your turn to answer a question or read aloud to the class. You didn’t need to be known as the weird new girl who’d also gotten into a fight with a sixth grader.

You groaned in realization that that was exactly what you’d be known as from now on. You ran a hand over your face. And just wait until your mom found out, until your Gramma found out. Your life was over.

At that, Mellie looked over at you, her formerly sour expression turned questioning at your sudden outburst.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, moving to sit on her hands. Her legs were swinging back and forth off of the edge of the seat of the chair. She looked more bored than anything else, which was wild to you, considering the insane amount of trouble you both were about to be in the moment your parents walked through that door.

You looked at her like she was insane, her freckled face a picture of nonchalance, and sighed. Your heart was at the pit of your stomach as you watched the small round clock tick by, each second drawing closer to what was bound to be the end of your eight years on this planet.

You hadn’t intended to get involved. You really hadn’t. But when you’d seen the trampled, embarrassed look in his deep brown eyes, you didn’t know what else you could do.

It was, surprisingly, not in your nature to be confrontational at this point in your life. Though you’d later grow to be quite the headstrong person, the years spent walking around on eggshells with Keith had taken a toll on your personality. You liked to avoid conflict with even your family, nevertheless with the mean fourth graders you’d always hear snickering at people during lunchtime. But when you’d heard them picking on the lanky boy with messy dark hair something within you had snapped.

It was breakfast for lunch day, aka: the best day of the week, and when the bell rang signaling the beginning of lunchtime you moved as fast as your legs could carry you to the cafeteria.

You stepped into the line behind a tall, lanky boy who had to be at least a few years older than you. You recognized him from your bus; He lived on the same street as Mellie and her brother, and like you, always sat by himself on the bus. You thought that he was probably the only kid who was as quiet as you. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d ever even heard the stoic boy utter a word in the month and a half you’d spent riding home with him. His face always seemed to stay the same too, you’d noticed.

Not that you’d been watching him, you corrected yourself.

Right now, though, the boy smiled at you as you came up behind him. A tight-lipped, shy one at that, but his dark eyes shone with genuine kindness that you were almost too flustered to know what to do. Such kindness, even small ones like this, had been few and far between in your time in Boone County. It’d been lonely, and this little boy’s smile made it feel a little less so. A part of you wondered if this town had been similarly lonely for him too. You smiled back.

The sound of giggling broke you from your blatant staring at the boy in front of you. Two girls had entered the line behind you. You didn’t know their names, but you recognized them from the time you had spent people-watching during your month or so of eating alone. The taller one was blonde, with long straight hair and thick braces covering her teeth as she smiled right past you and to the boy standing in front of you. Her counterpart was shorter and a bit stouter, with short pin-curls that practically stuck to her hair. Your stomach dropped as you took in the looks on both of their faces. Their smiles were anything but kind as they looked right through and onto the boy who was oblivious to what was coming.

You weren’t though. Just last week, you’d seen the pair of girls push a little girl in your class off of the monkey bars for “taking their spot,” when you knew for a fact that that girl had been there for all of recess already. Before that, you’d seen them ridicule another girl for her new haircut that had come out much shorter than expected until she cried. These were two girls you knew not to cross, and here they were, sights set on the boy in front of you whose name you didn't even know. And you were caught in the middle of it.

“Uhm, excuse me?” The blonde girl asked, reaching across you and tapping the boy on the shoulder. Her face was twisted in barely held-in laughter, while beside her, her friend’s face held an identical.

The boy turned, eyes wide and curious. Kind. Unaware of exactly how nasty these two could be.

“Y-yeah?” He asked, voice cracking when he stuttered. The blonde looked over to her friend and then back at him.

“Your name’s Clyde, right?” She asked, head tilting.

“Uhm, yeah, tha’s right.” He smiled, bashful. Ears twinged red.

Clyde. That was the boy’s name. It fit him, you thought.

Her friend popped in. “Say, ain’t you a Logan?” She asked, face spread in what seemed like a kind smile.

Something you didn’t buy. You thought as you grabbed an orange from the selection of fruit.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, moving down the line. He picked up a strawberry milk carton before moving further down where the french toast sticks were. You continued to eavesdrop, feeling the most awkward you had in a while as the conversation continued with you, quite literally, in the middle of it.

“Well, Clyde Logan,” the blonde continued, reaching for an identical carton of strawberry milk. Her face was smug. “There’s something Quinn and I have been meaning to ask you for a while now.”

“What’s that?” he asked, curious. He looked at her, eyes open and welcoming and you dreaded the next words that were going to come out of her mouth. It wasn’t gonna be good.

“We were just wondering,” she snorted halfway through, hand coming to her mouth. “Sorry, we were just wondering if you’d done something to upset your momma?”

He chuckled awkwardly, obviously confused, and flicked some dark hair behind his ear. “Pardon me?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Oh, nothin’. It’s just you had to have done something to have earned a haircut like that.”

Beside her, her friend had given up on controlling her laughter. Wheezing, her friend–Quinn–interjected.

“Or maybe your hairdresser hates you? What did you do to make someone let you walk out of the house like that?” She giggled.

“Don’t be silly, Quinn. The Logans can’t afford a hairdresser. It had to have been his momma. I mean, really Clyde, you had to have done somethin’ bad.” The blonde chimed in again.

“Although, maybe it’s not the haircut, Heather.” Quinn piped in casually, serving herself french toast. “That’s not fair to his momma. It’s those ears. They stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Mhm,” the blonde, heather, nodded. “I think you’re right. And his nose. It's so big. That’s what makes you so unfortunate looking. Not the hair at all.”

Clyde looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Surprise coloring his features, the smallest frown upon his lips.

“Or , you know what,” Heather considered, piling bacon onto her lunch tray. “It’s probably that curse your sister wouldn’t shut up about last year. What’d she call it?”

“The Logan Family Curse.” Quinn chimed in. Heather laughed.

“That must be it!” She giggled in that snotty, preteen way. “Who knew that the Logan family curse was being cursed with bein’ uglier than a mud fence!”

“Or having ears the size of Dumbo’s.”

Looking over at Clyde, you saw his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he looked down at his lunch tray. Crestfallen. It sent white hot anger surging through your chest, and before you could register it, you were turning to face the two girls beside you in line.

“Just because he has straight teeth and you don’t doesn’t mean you have to be mean.” You glared at her. Her smug face morphed into one of anger as her eyes hardened into a glare.

“Excuse me?” she asked. Beside her, Quinn’s eyebrows rose to her hairline.

“You heard me, brace-face.” You stood your ground, glaring right back at her. She gasped at the insult, not ready for a taste of her own medicine. An identical look of horror crossed her companion’s face. From behind you, you heard a familiar high voice call out.

“Clyde? Where are you–” Mellie looked confused, her eyes following the lanky, dark-haired figure racing out of the cafeteria, leaving his lunch tray deserted in line next to you. Her gaze hardened as she looked over at you and the two girls in line. She stomped over, arms crossed.

“What did you say to him?” She demanded, looking between you three. When no one spoke up, she asked again, louder.

“What did you say to my brother?” She seethed. Heather looked at Quinn, an amused smirk on her face.

“Oh, you mean Dumbo?” She asked.

“Nothing–we just gave him some beauty advice,” Quinn descended into the same annoying laughter as her friend.

What happened next was a blur to you. There was a hand in someone’s hair, another pushing someone's shoulder, and the sound of a hand smacking against someone’s face. You were pushed backwards–by who, you didn’t know–and your half-full lunch tray came down on top of you, covering you in scrambled eggs and syrup. Heather screeched like a banshee, and Quinn started crying. A lunch monitor ran over to break it up, and before you knew it, Heather was being sent to the nurse and you and Mellie to the principal’s office.

Which brings you to now.

You sat, smelling of eggs and syrup, and waiting for your life to end. After a few minutes of silence, you looked to the scrappy, brooding girl next to you.

“Did you have to hit her?” You asked, breaking the silence. Scoffing, she turned to look at you.

“Uhm, yeah I had to hit her.” She spat out incredulously. “She was makin’ fun of my big brother. You don’t let people mess around with your kin.”

“But–” you began before she interrupted you, seemingly not hearing you at all. That was something you’d grow to find out was a habit of hers whenever she talked about something she was passionate about.

“And I’d do it again, too,” she said, stubbornly. “I don’t care what Mrs. Findlay says. If you ask me, Heather Campbell had it comin’ and needed to be knocked down a few pegs. I’m only sad I got caught.”

Her matter-of-fact made you giggle a little bit. After all, you couldn’t disagree with her; You’d seen Heather and Quinn unleash their wrath before. Many times in the short time you’d been in town. They needed to be put in their place. And you were glad you’d had at least a small part in doing it, even if it did put a target on your back and was bound to make your life hell indefinitely.

“I am sorry you got involved, though,” Mellie said. “It ain’t fair you got roped into all a’ my trouble-makin’.”

You chuckled a bit.

“Nah,” you sighed. “Before you walked up, I did say some pretty nasty things to them. I guess I deserved it.”

Mellie, looking surprised at that, snorted.

“You?” she asked, eyes wide in apparent disbelief. “You said somethin’ to Heather Campbell?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked, brows furrowed. “And yes, I’ll have you know, I did say something to her.”

“Nothin’.” Mellie said, “it’s just that in all the time you’ve been here, I ain't heard you speak but about two times.”

“I couldn’t let her talk to him like that when he didn’t do nothin’ to deserve it.” You said. “Besides, I was tired of hearin’ her run her mouth all the time and no one sayin’ anything.”

“Well alrighty then.” She said.

A beat of silence passed, the only sound being the ticking of the clock. Then, “what did you say to her?”

You snorted.

“I called her brace-face.” You admitted sheepishly. Beside you, Mellie howled in laughter and after a moment, you joined her.

“You know,” she said pensively, smiling at you, all trace of a sour mood gone, “I think we’re gonna be good friends.”

You smiled back at her, the first real one in a while.

“Me too.” And you meant it.

Present Day

Your mother’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“And what about him?” she asked carefully, words thick with meaning. “Does he know you’re comin’ back?”

You sighed. “Mama, why would he know I’m coming back? Why would he care that I’m coming back?”

“Darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that–”

“He didn’t bother telling me when he came back. I had to find out from Mellie, a month after the fact.” You continued, that familiar white-hot feeling in your chest resurfacing. “Besides, I’m sure Mellie mentioned it to him. She’d have to if he’s gonna continue this disappearing act of his.”

“That’s not fair, baby, and you know it.” She scolded, ever the mother. It didn’t matter that you were twenty-five, she’d always put you in your place when it came down to it. “He’s been through a lot.”

“I’m sure he has,” you agreed half-heartedly.

“And–”

“--Not that I’d know about it! He hasn’t spoken so much as a word to me in years. Not for lack of trying on my part either, you know that mom.”

“I know, baby, I know,” she said. This was a conversation you’d had before. And no matter how many times you did, she’d always brought up the same points.

And now, Clyde Logan had been home for more than two years, but felt like a ghost. Your family hadn’t heard a thing from him. According to your cousin Zach, Jimmy had wanted to throw a coming-home party for him, but had canceled it last minute. You didn’t know what he was doing now.

You knew better than to ask Mellie about it. She was your best friend, yes, but you wouldn’t put her in that position. You wouldn’t make her choose sides or play middle-man between you and her brother. And she knew better than to bring it up with you, too. She saw her brother’s idiocy, and, more importantly, she saw how hurt you were after all that had happened.

So, Clyde generally wasn’t brought up between the two of you. Not in great detail, anyway. No matter how much you knew she had to reign herself in over it. Your best friend was a fixer at heart, and that instinct didn’t go away when it came to her best friend and her brother.

“Let’s just drop it, mom.” You said. “I am not coming home for Clyde Logan, of all people. I’m just happy to be coming home at all.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” she laughed lightly on the other end. “How far out are you?” she asked.

“I’m about halfway through Indiana right now.”

“Whew,” she whistled. “What a drive.”

You laughed at her sarcasm. “Oh yeah, nothin’ but cornfields for miles. That is somethin’ I won’t be missing, that’s for sure.”

“Good.” she said, “You’d better get a move-on if you wanna be home before dinner, then. I’ll call your cousins and see who can make it.”

Your heart leapt at the thought of it, seeing the family again. You’d missed living in the same county as them all; Not having to drive hours to hug your grandma, to hear your aunt Nikki’s laugh, or to engage in yet another political conversation with your uncle Mike.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Alright then. Your Gramma’s gonna be surprised, that’s for sure. And i’m warnin’ you now: She will not be as easily swayed as I am at your comin’ back.”

“Yeah, I know.” You shook your head. “I’ll start preparing my speech now.”

“You better!” She laughed, “I’m gonna let you go, babe. Call your aunts. Love you.”

“Love you too, momma.” You sighed, as the call ended.

The late May sun shone through the clouds, as you steered off of the freeway to continue south. Toward home.

- -

It was well past seven in the evening before everyone left your grandmother’s house��and, I guess, your house too, for now—for dinner.

It had worked: you’d made it home, finally, and even though your grandmother wasn’t happy with you for returning, she understood why. It’d been too long since you’d been home for more than a week or two. Even longer, if you didn’t count the summers you’d come home during college.

After Clyde had left for his third tour, things weren’t the same. You always hosted holidays after that, or visited your extended family in Charleston. You’d missed your hometown, yes. But the pain you felt at how you and Clyde left things hurt you more. Only now, after six months of therapy and the terrifying possibility that your grandmother was dying, did you feel even remotely comfortable enough to come back.

Now, after a long, loud meal with your extended family, you wondered why you’d left at all. The anxiety you’d felt driving into the county limits earlier that evening had dissipated. Home has a funny way of doing that: letting you ease right back in like you’d never left.

Your cousins were getting bigger—now nearly teenagers—and your aunts inquired about your personal life over dinner. Now, after the coffee had gone cold and your last relative had gone home, you helped your grandmother with the dishes—much to her chagrin.

Your grandmother was a kind woman, a gentle woman, but she was also a proud woman, and more stubborn than even you.

“Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I’m inept, you know,” she slapped your hand away from where it had tried to venture into the soapy water of the sink.

You sighed. So she’s still mad.

“I know, Gramma,” you offered. “Just trying to help.”

She grumbled back, still focusing on scrubbing the plate in front of her.

You gave up, moving instead to dry and put away the dishes she’d washed. As you began, she didn’t so much as spare you a glance, just hummed under her breath.

The kitchen looked untouched from it had been growing up—the linoleum counters, tiled walls, and deep wood of the cabinets perpetually stuck in the 1970s. Some of the glassware your grandmother owned was from the seventies, or even before then, going back to when your mom and uncles were kids. You could tell from old family pictures that the house had changed little since they bought it in 1969. Even after so many years, your Gramma had refused to invest in a dishwasher, insisting on washing dishes by hand instead.

You took a ceramic plate from the drying rack, toweling it off before opening the cabinet to put it away. The cabinet door had the same creak it always did.

“You know,” you tossed over your shoulder at your grandmother. “I was planning on coming back for a while before I heard about the cancer.”

“That’s what you keep sayin’,” she mumbled. “I can see right through ya, though, darlin’. You think I haven’t noticed you haven’t been home in years?”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the pang of guilt her words sent through you.

“I’m sorry about that, Gramma, I am—“

“Oh, hush,” she waved a suds-covered hand at you, still not turning around. “Long as I get to see you, I don’t care where it is. What I’m trying to say is: you certainly would not have come home had it not been for my diagnosis.”

You deflated a little; in a sense, she was right. You’d been considering returning before, that was true, but part of you deep down knew you wouldn’t have been successful if you hadn’t heard about her sickness.

“What I can’t live with is you giving up your dreams for an old woman like me.”

You scoffed at that, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

“Please,” you mumbled into the hug. “You couldn’t have kept me away. I would’ve found out at some point.”

She sighed, hugging you back and leaning into you.

“‘Suppose you’re right,” she acquiesced. “Doesn’t mean I’ve gotta be happy about it though.”

“That’s fair,” you chuckled, letting go and taking another plate from the drying rack. “But you can’t get mad at me. It should be me angry at you for keeping it from me for as long as you did.”

She turned to you then, wiping her wet hands off with a towel. There was a strange look in her eyes as she took you in, eyeing you head to toe. She snapped out of it after a moment and offered you a smile.

“Hm,” she hummed, bringing a weathered hand to cup your cheek. “I couldn’t stay angry at you even if I tried.”

You smiled cheekily at her.

“I know.”

“Hm,” she chuckled, pinching your cheek lightly and patting it. “Now let me finish these up. Mellie’ll be here soon and you haven’t even taken your suitcase up yet.”

You nodded and put the last plate away.

“I’ll turn the radio on for you,” you smiled. “It’s too quiet around here.”

“Alright sugar,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You won’t be sayin’ that come Monday. I’ve got your cousins after school most weekdays. And I thought you were a handful.”

You chuckled.

One thing about your family was true: none of you were boring—especially the little ones. They kept your grandmother on her toes.

“I’m looking forward to that,” you chuckled. That was another thing you regretted about moving so far away: not being there to watch your little cousins grow up.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said. “You might be reconsidering moving back after a few days.”

“Unlikely,” you snorted. “I’m hard to scare off. Well, now anyway.”

Your grandmother sent you a sympathetic smile then, and you knew she’d forgiven you. You twitched a little under her gaze. She almost looked like she pitied you. You understood if she did; she was the one to bear the brunt of your heartache when everything between you and Clyde had blown up. Still, it wasn’t a time you liked to dwell on.

“So, you think you’re finally over that Logan boy?” She asked, crossing her arms and facing you.

You sighed; it was just like your grandmother to not mince words or beat around the bush.

“Jesus, Gramma,” you raked a hand over your face.

“What?” she asked defensively. “Would you rather me tip-toe around you like everyone else? Your mama won’t ask, and you’ve banned Mellie from mentioning that boy.”

“So you thought you’d…” your words trailed off, not understanding exactly why she was bringing this up now.

“I thought I’d mention the elephant in the room. Call it curiosity, sugar,” she smirked at you. “I just figured that since he was the one that kept you away for so long—”

“Gramma, you know he’s not the only reason l left—”

“I know, I know,” she held up a hand to stop you. “But I remember how you were when you left. In the months before. Barely leaving the house, not talking to anyone. Whatever he did, it did a number on you. I don’t want you getting like that again—”

You softened. She was worried about you, of course she was. Your grandmother was nothing if not a mama bear.

“Trust me, Gramma. You do not have to worry Clyde Logan of all people. I’ve been over it for a while, I think. I’ll be okay.”

“Hm,” she scrutinized you through narrowed eyes, before nodding. “Alright. I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thanks, Gramma.”

“You ever gonna tell me all that happened with him?”

“Maybe one day,” you smiled at her sadly.

She nodded at you in understanding.

“Alright, babydoll. You go get ready.”

As you walked up the familiar steps to your childhood bedroom, listening to Patsy Cline drift through the old kitchen radio, you smiled to yourself at the familiarity of it all.

- -

“Trust me,” Camila grabbed your shoulder from the back of Mellie’s ‘85 silverado—her pride and joy and newest fixer upper. “This place is great, and it helps that we don’t have to drive all the way to Madison like we did back in the day.”

You snorted at how your friends were trying to sell you on this new dive bar. Where you’d wanted to go out in Madison like the old days, they’d insisted you stay local tonight.

You shifted in the denim cut-offs that Mellie had insisted you wear. You hadn’t worn them out since your senior year of college. Hell, you hadn’t been out since your senior year of college.

She’d showed up at your door at exactly eight o’clock on the dot, intent on getting you dolled up for a night out. Camila and Gwen, two of your best friends from high school, had shown up soon after. It was like old times—playing your old CDs, the smell of cheap perfume and hair-straighteners flooding your childhood bedroom. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be nervous about going out. Now, two hours later with a new outfit and your hair and makeup done to perfection, you were off to check out the newest haunt in town.

It’d been big news when the place had opened about nine months ago. It wasn’t every day that a new business opened in Logan, so obviously it was the talk of the town. Even you’d heard about it all the way in Chicago. Duck Tape was its name and it had been renovated into a bar from an old bait and tackle shop. And apparently, since its opening, it’d become a staple of your small community. You’d been promised that you’d run into at least five people from high school here, maybe more. It was also in the middle of nowhere.

“We’re basically driving the same distance, Cami.” You laughed. From beside you in the driver’s seat, Mellie smirked.

“Don’t rain on her parade.” She teased. “Cami’s just trying to explain away the real reason why she came here: she’s got it bad for the bouncer.”

Camila gasped and smacked Mellie’s shoulder.

“That isn’t it at all, Mellie Logan and you know it!”

“Mmhm,” Gwen nodded from the other side of her, very obviously not buying any of it. “It has nothing to do with the six-feet, tall, dark, and handsome bouncer. I believe you, Cami.”

You laughed at her sarcasm.

“I don’t know why you don’t put yourself out of your misery and just get his number,” Mellie asks from the front seat, looking at Cami through the rearview mirror.

“And risk rejection? Not a chance.”

You snorted at that, understanding completely. You’d had a few non-serious relationships here and there, but nothing that had stuck during your time in Chicago. And even then, they were alway the ones who had to make the first move.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted. “Since when do any of these places need bouncers?”

When you were in high school, it was a given that no one underage would even try to get into a bar in Logan. It would have been pointless: everybody knew everybody here, so even if you had the good sense to get a fake ID, you’d be at the sheriff’s station before you had time to order your first drink.

“Since these kids are gettin’ more and more ballsy,” Gwen answered you. “‘Bout a year ago coach Garrison’s kid got busted for drinking underage at Tulman’s. Ever since, they’ve been IDing at the door.”

Tulman’s was the other bar in town, nestled in the heart of downtown.

“I bet coach was pissed.”

“You have no idea,” Cami nodded, picking at her manicured nail. “Gave hell to the guy who owns the place. That’s just another reason why I like Duck Tape better.”

Gwen groaned from beside her. Mellie just laughed.

Mellie sighed beside you, reaching for the gear-shift. “Just ask him out. You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

“Oh please,” Cami laughed, speaking up over the sound of Garth Brooks’ voice coming from the speakers. “Stick to hairdressing, Mel. You’d make a shit motivational speaker.”

A chorus of laughs sounded as Mellie took a sharp turn off of the highway and onto the mountain road where the bar was.

This was so familiar: you and your girlfriends, all dressed up and piling into one car to go out as if you were somewhere glamorous like New York City and not in Boone County, West Virginia. The chatter of the girls around you was comforting, and you relished in it.

This, you thought. This is home.

- -

You dropped your glass when he walked in, brushing past the bouncer with a large hand on his shoulder. Your stomach dropped.

The glass shattered at your feet, sending cranberry juice and vodka splattering over your boots and calves. A few people surrounding you jumped as well, moving away from the shattered glass on the floor. Beside you, Camila started.

“Jesus,” she cried, grabbing your bare shoulder and looking at you. She was trying to get your attention, you knew, but you couldn’t bring your eyes away from the imposing figure of Clyde Logan, who just walked into the bar. “You okay? What—shit.”

She saw him too.

“Mellie,” you heard her whisper, trying to get the attention of your friend who was too-busy flirting with a man in a stetson beside you. Gwen was in the bathroom. “Mellie.”

He was tall—just as tall as he’d always been, but even more imposing. His shoulders stretched broadly across the dark blue button-up he had on. He wore worn blue jeans and work boots and still had that stiff, ramrod-straight posture that he’d come back from basic training with. You blinked.

He was here. He was here.

Even after years, he had an effect on you. You felt stuck to the floor, frozen in place as he made his way to the bar, his left side facing away from you. His dark hair was longer than you’d ever seen it, curling around his ears and down his neck thickly. You couldn’t tell much from the dim-lighting, but you could detect a bit of a stubble along his jaw and above his lip.

Lord have mercy, he was beautiful.

He was gorgeous–even more so than you remembered him. It made your chest ache.

“What?” Mellie turned to Cami, a flirty laugh in her voice.

“Look.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke.

“Fuck.” Mellie spat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. He said he wasn’t working tonight.”

You breathed in a ragged breath, everything feeling all of a sudden too much. The neon lights, the chatter of people from all sides of you invaded your senses. The early summer heat was cloying at your skin in the crowded bar. You felt boxed in on all sides.

“I’m just going to,” you mumbled, finally tearing your eyes away from Clyde, who was talking to the man behind the bar. You didn’t finish the sentence, instead electing to train your gaze on your boots and try to make your way to the bar door.

Behind you, you heard Mellie call your name. You ignored her, breathing deeply as you tried to navigate your way to the door.

Air, you told yourself. I need some air. Then I’ll be fine.

You tried to push yourself past a particularly large group, squeezing between two peoples’ backs. One of them moved backwards, their foot moving to step in front of yours.

Your boot caught on the foot, and you tumbled forward, losing your balance.

You tripped, scrambling, reaching out with your arms to break your fall as you tumbled.

Only, instead of continuing to fall to the ground, you stumbled into something. Or rather, someone.

Your hands landed on a broad chest, and you felt an arm snake its way around your middle, attempting to steady you. You let out a breath, finding your footing.

You brought your gaze up, an apology on your lips.

“Shit,” you mumbled, pulling your hands back from the stranger’s chest frantically. “I’m sorry—”

Brown eyes stared back at you, brows drawn together and full of confusion. Freckles scattered familiarly across his cheekbones and his lips parted as he looked at you.

Clyde.

You took a large step back, away from him, nearly stumbling again. He looked nearly as shocked as you felt, wide eyes taking you in from head to toe. After all, it had been over two years since you’d seen each other.

You did the same—eyes moving down his thick neck, his broad shoulders, down his chest. He was still so much taller than you.

This was all too much.

You could feel the panic setting back in your bones, and you blinked rapidly, moving to shove past him to the door, your legs carrying you before your mind could catch up.

When you did, he snapped out of it, moving to the side to block you and shoulder-checking you in the process. When he did, something firm and stiff—foreign—jabbed into your stomach, causing you to jerk away, even more past him.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you turned to see—

What you saw made the breath leave your chest.

There, strapped to what remained of Clyde’s arm was a prosthetic.

- -

Tears fell thick and hot down your cheeks as you rested your face between your knees on the side of the dingy bar. The rough wood of the paneling on the outside of the bar dug into your back through the thin shirt Mellie had convinced you to wear, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your mind was elsewhere.

Gone. Clyde’s left arm was gone–or at least part of it was.

Hurt flooded your chest at the thought of it; your once-best friend returning home from war, part of him missing, alone, and you weren’t there. He’d had to do it alone.

Another wave of tears came.

How could you not have known?

Everyone knew everything about everyone in Logan. It was the way of things and it always had been. It was how you’d found out about your Gramma’s illness, it was how word had spread like wildfire when Mellie’s boyfriend in tenth grade cheated on her, and it was how the whole town knew Bobbie Jo was pregnant with Sadie before Jimmy did. But this.

It struck you all at once; everyone knew. Of course everyone knew. Camila, Gwen, Mellie. Your mother. They all had known and still didn’t tell you.

You felt like someone had torn your heart from your chest.

The sound of gravel crunching under boots tore your gaze up. You knew who it was before he called your name. You’d know the sound of his step anywhere.

Clyde Logan walked toward you, arms clasped behind his back, dark eyes wary. He always looked like this when he was nervous. Even now, you couldn’t believe he was standing before you after so long. Even now, you couldn’t contain the slow simmer of anger that flared in your gut at the sight of him.

He stood there a minute, eyes on yours, before he cleared his throat.

“How…uh, how long you been back?” He offered softly, eyes never once leaving yours.

The slow simmer in your gut reached a boil. You stood to your feet, lip curling at him. You didn’t care enough to wipe your face of tears.

“Really?” You asked harshly, voice slightly raised. Clyde flinched at your tone. “That’s what you have to say to me Clyde Logan—after three years?”

Clyde bit his lip and looked down. He sighed.

“Junebug—-”

“Do not,” you hissed at him, glaring up at his pained expression. “You do not get to call me that anymore.”

He just stared at you, a pained expression on his face.

It didn't surprise you—Clyde had never had a way with words. Even as kids, even as best friends, it had been hard for him to express himself. He was quiet. Now was no exception.

“Did you get my letters?” You hated that your voice warbled.

Clyde’s eyes fell to his boots and you knew the answer from the guilty expression that crossed his face.

You scoffed, even more anger bubbling inside you at the confirmation.

After the fight—the one that sent you packing, right before his third deployment, you’d written him. Countless times, apologizing, explaining yourself, begging him for a response, anything. And you’d never heard anything back.

“I wrote you for months, Clyde.” You said, voice softer now. “When you were over there, I had to get updates from Mellie. Or from my mom, because you wouldn’t write me back. You wouldn’t answer my calls. I didn’t know if you were hurt, or if you—”

You stopped yourself, sniffing.

You stared at his prosthetic arm, finally able to get a better look at it.

It began just under his elbow, strapped on there to give the illusion of a full-limb. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

“Ugly, ain’t it?” He asked, noting how your stare held there. Your eyes snapped to his.

You scoffed, ignoring him and looking away.

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered, drying your face with your palm.

“I told Mellie not to tell you,” he blurted. “After. Made her swear not to. Don’t be mad at her.”

You sighed.

You weren’t angry at her; you couldn’t be. Shortly after you’d realized he wanted nothing to do with you, you’d made any talk of Clyde strictly off-limits in your friendship. Even if she’d wanted to tell you, it was off limits. That was not the case, however, with your own family.

You’d be having words with your mother and grandmother when you returned home.

“My relationship with Mellie is none of your business,” you glared up at him. “It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Clyde scoffed now, the soft, reserved look gone from his eyes and replaced by annoyance.

“What?” you asked. “You got something to say? Say it.”

“Fine,” he barked. “Three years and you haven’t changed a bit.”

Oh, so he was pulling that card, you thought, thinking back to your last argument. You laughed humorlessly.

“Oh, I haven’t changed?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “At least I had the balls to come back! At least I’m not a coward like you—”

“Coward?” He asked, voice low.

“You heard me.” You spat, voice warbling again with anger. You hated that you got like this; whenever you were angry, you’d cry. “At least I have the stones to face my mistakes. I don’t run away from them, Clyde.”

With that you walked away, leaving him standing there in the gravel of the Duck Tape parking lot.

He made no move to follow you, thank god.

You decided to call it a night, knowing any chance of letting loose was long gone. Though you weren’t angry with her, you didn’t think you could face Mellie or the girls again tonight. You pulled your cell phone from your bag and sent a quick text to the group chat, telling them you’d decided to head home. You sent a separate one to Mellie, telling her you weren’t mad at her but you needed some time.

You walked back to the front of the bar, leaning on the wood of the front railing, and stared at the phone screen. Your mother and grandmother would be asleep by now, and even if they weren’t, you weren’t sure you wanted to see them anyway. You could always call your cousins—but doing that would open up the door to countless questions and speculations at why you were leaving Duck Tape looking an emotional wreck.

Then, it hit you.

You found the contact easily and hit call; there was one person who you knew you could call whenever, wherever to come get you, no questions asked. You just hoped he was up.

#logan lucky #clyde logan #clyde x reader #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan fanfiction #clyde logan x female reader #clyde logan x you #logan lucky fanfiction #mellie logan #jimmy logan #adcu #adcu fanfiction #adam driver fanfic #adam driver #diamonds and stones

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xandraspalace · 1 year

Text

Jewel Eyes Outshining All Beneath

----- Jewel Eyes Outshining All Beneath || Shu Yamino [NIJISANJI ID] x Fem! Reader

Summary : The twinkling stars in the night sky were nothing compared to his pair of jewel eyes. He has sworn to himself that he will give you anything you desire in this world. And now it’s your turn to swear that you will treasure everything he has given you and love him till the end.

WC : 1796 words.

Warning : Grammar errors, teeth-rotting fluff, WMMAP references, etc.

Featured Characters : Luxiem (mentioned).

Story Notes : This story is written in second-person point of view and the reader is female. The personas written here are based on the avatar of the characters as vtubers, not the person behind it. Enjoy.

A/N : Yesterday was my junior's birthday. I should have given this as a birthday present to her yesterday. But due to overlapping projects for Doppio and Altare, I'm a bit overwhelmed wwww. I'll be updating the late birthday fictions for Altare and Doppio soon. And to my Kouhai. I WISH YOU A HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY!! MAY THIS YEAR AND THE YEARS AFTER THIS BE THE POGGEST YEARS FOR YOU!!

Other Platforms : [TWITTER] [MEDIUM]

THE scent of hydrangea and honey was still lingering from the scented candle that your lover burned last night, touching your sense of smell. You who was sleeping on your stomach started to shift out of uncomfortableness. Besides, the blanket that covered your shoulders last night has fallen to your waist.

You immediately regretted your decision to roll over and take a direct hit from the morning sunlight. You grumbled in annoyance and closed your eyes tighter.

But not long after, that annoyance was washed away. A familiar hand touched your forehead. You lightly whined and leaned to the touch, feeling relaxed. You felt the bed dipped slightly.

"Good morning, babe,” a certain someone greeted you gently with a small laugh.

You shifted, opening your eyes slowly. Without you knowing it, a sweet smile touches your lips. “Morning, Shu,” you greeted him back sleepily.

Seeing your adorable expression, Shu Yamino, your lover chuckled. “Aw, the birthday girl is still sleepy?”

If you were wide awake, you would respond to his teasing by soft-smacking his arms. However, you who had just woken up didn't have any energy to even raise your hands.

“Happy birthday, baby boo.” Shu leaned down and kissed you forehead, pulling some giggles out of you.

As if you were drunk, you giggled cutely as you hugged his arms. “Happy birthday to me.”

“You’re supposed to say thank you.”

And you just complied. “Thank you��”

You didn't drink at all last night and there's no reason for you to act so clingy like as if you’re drunk. However, Shu chose to let you and tended your neediness.

“What do you want to do today? It’s your birthday, so I think we can do anything you want." Shu cradled your head gently.

"I choose?" you asked, eyes still closed as you feel his touch.

Meanwhile, Shu hummed and answered your question. “You choose.”

“Do you have a stream today?”

“Nope, I still have my days off. But I still have an errand to do thought.”

You paused for a moment, thinking about what you wanted to do with him. Honestly, there are many things you want to do with him and Shu always asks you not to hesitate to say whatever you desire. Shu will be very grateful if he can fulfill your wish immediately. But if he can’t get it right away, he will always find some ways and work things out for you as soon as possible.

He planned to give you everything in this world that you desire, even if it’s impossible for him. He would do anything within his power just to satisfy you and your needs. Talk about what a man he is.

"I want a fancy, romantic dinner, with just the two of us." You rose from your sleeping position and leaned to him, both hands supporting your body. "Of course, only if you're okay with it. I won't force you."

You never doubted him even once. You believe that he can get anything you want. However, as a good lover, you always try to pay attention to his preferences too.

“Fancy dinner? Will that be enough?” he asked and you nodded, answering him. “Alright, then. Make sure you're ready this evening with your most fancy looks, okay?”

"You ... agree with that?" you asked, hesitantly.

"What makes you think that I would disagree?"

At that moment, a wide smile touched your lips once again. You throw yourself at him just for the sorcerer to hold your hips, making sure that you and him didn’t fall and get hurt. “Oh my God, Shu! I love you so much!” you cheered.

“I love you too, babe,” he laughed.

“No, I love you more!” you argued, squeezing his cheeks.

That was his cue to grab your hands and kissed your cheek. “Wrong. I love you most.”

Inexplicable sparkling, gorgeous flowers, and the majestic skies. How pretty, you uttered inside your heart.

The place was a bit quiet and secluded. However, the colorful lights along the path light the surrounding so beautifully. A small lake with calm and deep waters lied in front of you. Around the lake, a garden with pretty flowers beautifies the view. On the edge of the lake, there was a ruins-like platform with an aesthetically arranged dining table in the middle.

You'd even dare to say that your efforts to dress up for hours were nothing compared to the magnificent scene in front of you. Your jaw dropped and you were speechless.

“Do you like it?”

You gasped and turned around, finding your lover, Shu, in his semi-formal attire. You hug the bouquet of tulips he previously gave you tighter. Your smile was overly gentle until it makes the man surprised. "I love it, Shu. Thank you." you muttered softly.

Hearing that, Shu sighed in relief and smiled at you. "Please do start preparing the appetizer for tonight," Shu said to a waiter. Shu led you to the platform where the dining table was.

“How did you find such a place as beautiful as this? I didn't even know there were this kind of place in town!” you said, lowkey excited to hear his story.

Shu could only chuckle as he sat down in front of you. Before he answered your question, he whispered his thanks to the waiters who have served the appetizers for you and him. “I have my way,” he answered shortly.

“That’s not fair. I want to hear it,” you pouted.

"It's your birthday, why do you want to listen to something that isn’t about you? You’re the star today?"

"And because today is my birthday, I want you to do whatever I want," you argued.

In the end, Shu sighed and gave in. He told you how he and the boys were looking for a suitable place for a fancy, romantic dinner. Most of what Shu did for you that day was Luca’s and Vox’s suggestions.

You and Shu also exchanged stories the day. About how you desperately prepared yourself to look good and how Shu prepared the reservation while doing his errand.

In between your main courses, Shu gave you some gifts that will obviously never comes to your mind.

“Where did you get this?!” “Isn't this too expensive?!” “You must be crazy?!” And many more reactions that you could give every time Shu surprised you with his presents.

“One more, I promise,” shu said, pulling a thin black box out of nowhere.

"Shu, this is your third time saying that!" You wiped your lips with a napkin after the last spoon of the main courses. You casted a worried look at your boyfriend.

However, Shu could only chuckle. He got up from his seat and walked over to you. The sorcerer took your empty plate away and placed the thin black box in front of you. “No, no. I'm serious now. This will be the last.”

"Fine, what is it?" Shu opened the box, pulling out a gasp of disbelief from you. You eyes widened perfectly. For the umpteenth time that night, your jaw dropped from the shock.

"Babe, this is—" You were speechless. “This is so beautiful,” is the only sentence you can say. Your fingers touched the white diamond necklace placed inside the box. A shiny purple topaz pendant hung from the end of the necklace.

“You once said that you like my pair of eyes so much. So I wonder if I can make a imitation of them in jewelry form so it can remind you of me every time you wear it,” your lover explained from behind, his lips caressing your ear.

"I also don't want you to feel lonely while I'm away for business or something, like the last time I was out with the boys." Shu pulled the necklace out of the box and opened it, draping the necklace around your neck. “I cast some protection spells into it too. I hope you can always feel like I’m by your side with this necklace.”

You didn’t realize it, but your eyes suddenly get teary. You got up from your seat and held your lover's arms. “You were really having too much fun with the boys during your trip. Don't you know how much I miss you?! I was worried when you didn't notify me at all, idiot!” your fussed. “Don’t leave me hanging like that again!”

Shu could only laugh when he saw your expression, trying hard not to cry. "I already said sorry. You know I can't focus on many things at once.” Shu tried to depend on himself as he secured your body to him. "I'm sorry, okay?" Seeing your pout, he apologized once again.

“I hate you, but I love you so much,” you muttered out of nowhere.

“Are we gonna argue about this again?” he chuckled, wiping your tears carefully.

“Just say it back, Shu! Why are you like this? Why are we at it again?”

“Alright, alright.” You rested your head on his chest as he pulled you into his arms. The sorcerer stroked your hair gently and kissed the crown of it. “Happy birthday, babe. I love you. You meant the world to me.” Shu pulled himself from you and leaned down to kiss your forehead softly.

You looked up to him, finding his par of majestic eyes. There they were, eyes that outshining every sparkling thing in this world, the most beautiful one you will ever find. You need to look up at the night sky and none of those stars can match his dazzling eyes.

“I love you too, Shu. Thank you,” you blurted out, eyes on him. Smiles touched the man's lips. One thing you didn’t know that his heart was echoing his gratitude for having you in his life.

Shu is a person who can find such comforts in silences. For a while after, you and Shu enjoy the silence of the night with the calm lake waters and beautiful lights all around you. From a distance, the sound of passing vehicles could be heard faintly.

You may not have done the whole blowing out the candles rituals because the birthday cake will be served with dessert. However, that night you already made one wish. If Shu had swore to himself to give you anything you desire, then under the starry sky that night, it was your turn to promise a thing for him.

Only God who dwells up there could hear you. You swore to cherish everything he gave you and love him till the end, staying by his side for the better or worse—until death do the both of you part.

An extreme promise, indeed. But that was the first promise you made after you turned [Your Age]. -----[FIN].

Jewel Eyes Outshining All Beneath Fiction by Author Xandra February, 2023

#xandraspalace #xandraspalace_arc #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji en x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #luxiem fluff

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jsprnt · 8 months

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Healing Hearts PT.1 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

WC: 806

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

I throw my blanket off of me for what feels like the millionth time these past two hours. Shifting on my new bed. These covers were expensive, though it seems like I won't be fully enjoying them tonight.

My head is full of thoughts, making up certain scenario's over and over again. I turn my phone on again it unlocks immediately, the Face ID somehow recognizing my horribly tired state. "Oh thanks I guess", I mumble, a little offended.

My fingers instinctively tap onto my e-mail, opening that one message again. 'We welcome you for your first day at Liverpool FC next Monday'. The words read, it still felt weird. It wasn't like I had no experience at new clubs, no I had quite a bit of that, despite my age.

I never specifically dreamt of becoming a physiotherapist growing up. I had fantasies about literally every profession. I had my vast collection of career Barbies to thank for that. Although, I did have a preference of studying medicine, accompanied with the delight of my parents, though our relationship had never been the best. That's just what I did. I had met a lot of people during that time of my life, including my best girlfriends. Couldn't have gone through all those sleepless study sessions without them.

I did some research before graduating high school. Looking at all the bachelor studies universities close to me had to offer. Then I realized physiotherapy was my calling. My last year internship was then, by the fate of the universe at AFC Ajax. Thankfully, it wasn't far from home at all. The connections, knowledge and memories I had built there still manages put a smile on my face when I think of them. I was so lucky to be able to experience that. When they offered me a three year contract after graduating I didn't hesitate to sign. Those three years had me build up so much knowledge and the mentors were amazing people to look up to.

That's unfortunately also how I met my ex Theodore (Yes, he was as snobby as his name), he was a supporter, sitting in the VIP chairs. I can't lie and say it wasn't love at first sight, our relationship progressed from there.

Years later an insane offer was presented to me when I was nearing the end of my contract at Ajax. FC Barcelona's head physio wanted me on his team! He had heard about my skills from people in the industry. After much consideration and discussions with my loved ones I decided to accept my new job at FC Barcelona.

To my surprise my ex had also decided to move with me. After all he was practically filthy rich, living off ofhis mommy's money. So, he wasn't bound to be somewhere for work or anything. I can't help but roll my eyes when I think of what that man-child put me through. The only positive thing about him was the connections I built at parties and gatherings he made me go to as his little picture perfect girlfriend. Ladies, only date a rich man once for the connections and money. Don't let it drag on for to long though, know when to get out before it gets too toxic.

My time at FC Barcelona was amazing, though I didn't feel that free with my boyfriend breathing down my neck at anything I did. I worked hard, the players and staff were amazing. I still talk to some of them today, a message here and there to check in on each other. When me and Theo finally broke up I decided to move away and quit working at Barcelona, it was a difficult decision with many players and staff trying to convince me to stay, but I had to. Just to feel fully separated from him.

That puts me here in Liverpool, laying restlessly in my bed at almost two in the morning. I glance outside my apartment, my curtains half drawn. Some of the city lights reflecting back onto the window glass. A smile replaces my previously anxious expression. Working hard and spending hard had its perks.

I turn my phone off, placing my head on my new not-yet-comfortable pillow, grabbing another one for comfort. My racing thoughts tire me out, my eyes fluttering shut, curious for what will happen tomorrow...

#virgil van dijk #virgilvandijk #liverpool fc #vandijk #virgil van dijk fanfiction #football #football fanfic #finefc #Liverpool fanfic #liverpoolimagines #virgilvandijk imagines

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wiltedrosewritings · 8 months

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NEVERLAND IN AUGUST

I often tell myself I will no longer partake in writing tae fics bc they always turn out excessively angsty and melodramatic, and yet, I find myself here, time and time again.

short version: kth and poor decisions. salty air. beach shore. never meant to be. exchanges that slipped away into moments in time. a secret well kept, and then fallen into oblivion. seashells. skinny dipping. august, except it's not. you, except you are not mine. us, except there is no such thing. you were never mine to keep, or to lose.

tae's got a neverland complex. doesn't wanna grow up, bc it means leaving behind his freedom, but worst of all, you. or something like that.

proceed, if you are interested in the long version.

wc: 3.7 k

tracklist: 'August' by Taylor Swift

tense and POV: 2nd person and past

You are so easy to fall back into, as though we are molded to fit one another, a lock to its key, and it shouldn't be this easy to self-destruct.

Taehyung slipped away into the night when the crowd had settled and turned its eyes blind; when the topics of conversation had shuffled from his career and marital prospects to rather pettier, popular culture developments.

He averted curious gazes amidst the crowded streets as he meandered aimlessly. Like a compass with a damaged needle, he spun indefinitely, pressed tight between bodies. No sense of direction.

With a flighty gaze, he scoured the surrounding, illuminated buildings for an anchor, a sort of lighthouse, some sort of sign to pierce his attention, slap him hard across the cheek as the ground would if he would only stop falling. If the ground were to catch him and hold him, rather than cave beneath his feet.

Gloomy, dim eyes searched past the silhouettes of the skyscrapers, past the nomadic clouds, which veiled the moon's luminous halo, attempting to make out faint stars freckling the sky.

Not just any stars.

Polaris - a stable point, axis, around which the rest of the world's body falls and rises.

The star he'd chased with his siblings through the playgrounds long ago.

The clouds were too vast and dense, as were the crowds pressing in around him. Suddenly, he felt painfully sympathetic of Polaris's condition; the world seemed to start spinning around him, too; the ground at his feet warping with each unsteady step.

He didn't want to be central, polar. He wanted to be a fuzzy margin, ambiguous, never quite a start, never quite an end. The horizon.

He wanted to be too many things in life, and nothing at all, at once. It was dizzying, to say the least, to be tugged in every direction. To have so many quarreling voices beckoning your attention.

Sometimes he wished he could split himself into a million little versions. Split the burden between them.

He just wanted it to stop. The spinning. The encompassing chatter. The omnipresent stares. All of it.

He dipped into a gas station with a neon sign for a header and pulled the cheapest bottle of red wine from its rack. Rolled it over the counter towards the register clerk along with his upturned ID, only his thumbpad mostly covered his picture and name.

It was a quick swivel, quick enough for the clerk to nod in recognition he was of age; not long enough for them to register the reputation behind the name, the face;

not long enough for a light to flicker in their distant gaze and their mouths to fall slack in awe.

With a lazy grip on the bottle's neck, he swayed and weaved through the saturated streets, often slamming shoulders, until he sank into a dim alley, save for an overhead flickering neon sign, similar to that of the gas station, only just one flicker short of giving out.

He padded his way out to a quieter, sleeping street, and found himself a vacant bench to collapse onto.

It was finally dark, and quiet, and the margins of the world had seemed to settle about him.

There, he conjured up an affair with the shadows until he grew to question whether he'd become one. Whether the star-freckled clouds had encompassed and carried him away, to some distant Neverland. A place that could offer him an eternity to figure out the calls and wants of his heart.

His parents had omitted a truth from him. They'd omitted many through his development, opting for sugar-coating existence, but of all the ones, this one was unforgivable.

They had never mentioned how it is like the air in your lungs dissipates with each passing year. A blind habit forms: you start holding your breath just to get through a couple of gruesome hours, a shift, the day.

You wait for the afternoon to catch it again, but then the afternoons start growing burdensome in a way uniquely their own. It grows, the weight on your chest, drowns you and kills you slowly.

In his brief recollection tonight, he supposes they'd been unconvincing in their pretensions. They'd never blatantly admitted this truth but had often insinuated it.

He should have looked closer, not forsaken the fine details.

He would have noticed the drawn bags lining their eyes, the burst capillaries on the ivory margins.

He would have felt the exasperated sigh leaving their lips while bracing their weight against the counter, just trying to stand another day.

He could feel that helpless sigh, now. Infact, it had grown to become his.

A sigh which seeped into the quiet night.

Quiet, safe for the whir of cars on the highway, a couple of miles back; safe for the chirp of crickets nestled amidst bushes, shrubs.

Quiet, safe for the sudden exclaim of a nearby branch, snapped under unannounced weight.

Taehyung stiffened and used the bottle that had been resting on his thigh as leverage, in case he'd need to spring upward and dash -though, it would likely be less of a dash, more of a stumble and awkward trot away given his inebriation.

"Boo!"

He didn't startle, much too inhibited to have reacted within the acceptable timeframe.

Or simply, too unbothered.

Instead, he turned his head with a lazy, drunken gaze and there you were -- his Neverland on Earth, stardust lining your eyes, a shard of magic and dream and impossible possibilities amidst a limiting world.

The stars surely envied you.

You kicked the air, standing, waiting awkwardly, as if for an invitation from him to sit. You weren't sure if he'd appreciate you intruding on his hideout, even if it was a vacant restaurant patio, with rusted chairs and overgrown ivy.

"They are losing their minds looking for you, you know?"

"They are?" A smug smile tugged on the corner of his glistening lips. "Let them." He proceeded to lick the gloss away, tasting the bitterness of residual liquor with subtle tones of sweet vanilla and tart cherry. "Are you gonna tattle on me?"

He swung down the leg he'd had outstretched on the bench, opening a space for you. Welcomed your presence.

Your original reluctance dissipated, formerly pinched shoulders relaxing.

"I already did," you flaunted, lied, made your way across the patio, crunching over shattered stone.

As you lowered yourself onto the seat, he gestured the opaque bottle at you, whirling the contents around.

"If I'm going down..." he started, holding back a hiccup behind puckered lips. For an instant, his face twisted, as if bile had crept up the column of his throat.

He swallowed hard, and quarreled with the nausea wringing his stomach. "I might as well not remember any of it."

You'd feel nauseated, too, leading his life.

Sure, it was glimmery and luxurious, alluring and comfortable by every physical means, with everything imaginable so carefully crafted and tailored. The perfect life.

It was all pretend, shallow. A gilded cage is only ever still a cage, a prison, confinement.

It wasn't him - not the him that you knew. He was a free bird, meant to take flight.

The him that you knew would be up for spontaneous drives to the shore. He'd get lost out of an insistence to avoid using navigation systems. He'd blast every genre of music through the speakers, and somehow recall every lyric, even the ones that were in a foreign tongue.

The him you knew, would leave his shoes at every corner, flinging them off with irritability, complaining about how sore they made him, managing to turn it into a debacle on how suffocating it is to be trapped.

He'd walk on coarse gravel, all through the city. Come home with the filthiest soles, nothing short of charcoal. He'd defy every norm with the lightest of smiles, come spewing to you about the sights he saw on his adventures, the people he'd met, how he'd played soccer with a couple of kids from the neighborhood, how their mother had served him some jiggae and how it reminded him so much of home.

Then he'd guffaw, shake his head and tell you that it was weird how he could recognize the familiarity of home when he'd never really met it.

But you were, of course, biased in your belief that the only version of him that existed was the one he showed you. You didn't really - or simply didn't want to - accept that this version could be the manifestation of a persona, a theatrical mask meant to distract something deeper, more fragile, genuine, and lost.

Your accepting company allowed him to be a different version of himself, but it wasn't entirely the truest one.

"Get up." You slapped his thigh and turned the bottle he'd handed over, letting its maroon content pour onto the cement, stain it beyond repair. "I want you to remember tonight."

He groaned, collapsing his head onto his hands and ruffling his hair into a nest. "I had been enjoying that!"

"That..." You shifted your gaze to the ground and then back up at him, brows pinched in question. You couldn't possibly be referring to the same thing. "No one could possibly enjoy that. Abominable." You shuddered.

"It was cheap," he justified.

"You act as if you have no money."

"I don't! It's their money." He thrust both arms into the open air, gesturing to his puppet masters, to the strings sewn into his elbows and wrists.

At all times, he was being watched fall apart at the seams, and was scrutinized. The same life which had been breathed into his infantile lungs, never felt his. Instead, it reminded him of a plotted strategy on a chess board game drawn out for added torture. It wasn't a single, one-time commitment; it was a lifetime of sustaining choices that would remove him further from himself.

"Enough self-pity for one night. Come on." You rose, knees creaking a little. "Let's go."

"Where to?" He beckoned, still planted on the bench.

"Somewhere. Anywhere. Nowhere." The offer hung in the air, open to endless possibilities. Potential twinkled in your starry eyes; a million wishes and dreams birthed in a second.

You smiled, and stardust gathered on your tear line, rained down and dusted his sullen limbs until he was floating, made weightless, trailing after you.

"Neverland."

"What?"

"Let's go to Neverland."

You snickered and it was as if bells chimed, rang, jingled.

"What are you - Have you gone mad?" Taehyung hissed, dancing his weary gaze across his immediate surroundings. He'd rapidly grown weary, careful of an audience bearing witness to the spectacle you were putting on, in your lacy underwear. Locks of hair danced around your figure in response to a cool oceanic breeze gathering to greet you.

"I am pretty sure this is illegal. Illegal, T."

T, as in Tinker Bell, his personal version of a rose-tinged fairy, with a volatile temper, particularly when things don't follow your script.

Incredulously, Taehyung continued to mumble beneath his breath. The cyclical breath of the sea drowned his protests.

Your bra collapsed onto a mound of sand, forcing his lips mute. Like a fish hauled out of the water, his lips smacked open, shut, then open again, failing to close around the ghost of words he'd thought to say but suddenly drew blank on.

Cheeks burning flushed in that so fae way, you dipped your chin behind the curtain of your hair.

You shut your eyes for what you were about to do. Mustered the courage to follow through, to not feel vulnerable under his gaze.

Taehyung's unwavering gaze followed your hands down, before trailing up so fast he saw stars spinning around his field of vision. He felt he'd been thrown into Van Gogh's Starry Night.

Slowly, apprehensively, he let his eyes cascade over your silhouette, which grew smaller in the distance as you raced to the sea, desperate to hide in its embrace.

Growing envious of it, Taehyung ripped his top off his torso, and stumbled the length of the shore, quarreling with his trousers.

In his boxers, he stopped close enough for the edge of the tide to graze the tip of his toes. Retracted at the sudden bite of cold. "You are mad, woman." It's no longer a question.

"Look who's talking?" You twirled around, the water caressing your sides, sculpting you with as much love and delicate intent as a historic artist did his marble block. "Isn't this illegal?"

And something in you fizzled, like the air bubbles frothing against your lips on the crystalline surface. It filled you with confusing pleasure to leave a mark on him. To corrupt him.

You hoped your touch on him - your influence - was permanent enough to outlive all that would proceed. Permanent and deep like etchings on tree barks, or indentations on freshly cemented sidewalks.

The panic in his gaze had long dissipated. It blended into a palette of emotions. All unnamable, indistinguishable, but utterly mesmerizing, nonetheless, much like the colorful horizon behind you.

Delight. Amusement. Fascination. A twinge of flippant anger.

You drive me mad, woman.

Orange sherbet. Strawberry pink. Lavender lilacs.

Mad enough to rouge his own cheeks.

You'd like to stare long enough to acquaint yourself with each and every one of them. To name them all, and find where one starts, and the other ones trails off.

But the thought of staring, steadily into his gaze makes you restless, short of breath. As if there isn't enough air in the entire atmosphere to satiate your lungs.

You can't name the way he looks at you; it's foreign, but not frightening in its oddity. Still, you can recognize its danger, in that it's not a known way to look at friends.

You reclined your head onto the surface of the water, much as you would against your pillow after a long day. "Oh, it's heavenly, Tae." With your arms outstretched like the limbs of starfishes on the ocean floor, you floated. The salty medium carried the voice of the sea directly into your ears. The sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart amplified.

A bizarre reminder that you were indeed alive.

Splashing and thrashing echoed across the sea, and you instinctively curled in on yourself to find Taehyung visibly grimacing at the cold state of the water.

"Why did I ever think following you was a good idea?"

You beamed, droplets of the salty sea clinging to your lashes, where they refracted the setting sun, and it's like stardust in broad daylight all over again.

"You have to do it all at once. Don't think. Just do," you encouraged, watching as the delicate, thinly defined muscles of his torso flexed and twitched over the surface of the water.

His gaze was devoid, save for deeply creased brows caught in contemplation. A war with the limits of sensation. He held his arms linked over his chest to preserve heat, or perhaps hide his vulnerability.

Water pooled in the cup of your hand, which you splashed in his direction, aimed right at his handsome frown.

Victory ignited like an ember amidst your eyes.

He grew to shudder a few arms' length from you. Broad and strong shoulders quivered helplessly.

"You!" Then, those burnt-honey eyes pierced yours. Glaring. Fixed.

The cupid-bow lining his upper lip momentously twitched as he repeated himself "You-" His words stumbled over unstable, shallow breaths.

You withdrew into the water's embrace and watched attentively, as the waterline climbed up his finely detailed torso. Outstretched arms grew nearer. Burnt-honey eyes widened in a vengeful craze. Ivory teeth became bared underneath strawberry-red lips.

A frightened giggle of yours bubbled the water's surface rimming your chin.

Finally, with an inhale of courage, Taehyung lunged forward, took the blow of the cold front on, and wrapped you in his arms. His weight sunk you beneath the surface. You were a pair of tangled anchors.

Not having stored a breath in your lungs, you squirmed and kicked in his old. His groans were muted by the harrowing echoes of the abyss beneath the sea.

Strong arms tightened around you and hauled you out. You broke the surface with a desperate gasp, choking for breath between giggles.

Laughter echoed in his chest, and reverberated through you. It reminded you of the waves and siren songs you grew up believing resided within conch shells as a pig-tailed kid.

Since having shed your milk teeth and tolerated the gnaw of growing pains that accompanied such loss, you'd given up on childish fables of that kind.

On trips to the shore, there weren't hidden siren songs in the colorful conch shells you held up to your ear. There was only your younger sister cackling beside you, calling you a fool - but only after having tried it for herself first.

But much as you had convinced yourself siren songs didn't exist inside the shells, you'd also convinced yourself you'd never hear that laugh again. Somber. Baritone. A tad boyish, in the way it would crack unpredictably. So wholly yours. It was a tune you'd looped in your memory from the very first instance you'd heard it.

In that split-second, with his hands fanned over your hip bones, and half-moon eyes tenderly fixed on yours, the fables did not seem so farfetched. New possibilities were solidifying at the tip of your fingers. Your fingers grazed the apples of his cheek.

The possibilities were whispers in the crest of your ear.

You'd only needed to get far enough from the bustling commotion of the city to hear them, to realize they'd always been there.

An abstract somethingness would always exist between you two, just barely palpable.

The champagne had a mildly scorched aroma undermining its light fizz. You grimaced as it burned its way down your throat.

On any given night, you would much prefer a cup of tea to pair with the sacred act of slipping into bed; green, chamomile, on occasion, even aromatic Tulsi.

But tonight, you weren't trying to sleep, to ease a mild case of insomnia. Sleep would rob you of time both of you knew you didn't have.

After a couple of swigs from the dark bottle, your skin began to buzz. A denseness subtly amounted over you, as though honey were dripped over your body, every move lubricated, viscous.

Your legs were warm, draped over his in a languid, but intimate manner - almost grounding in nature, as if you were his anchor. You tethered him to the present pleasures, kept his mind off the anxious tomorrows.

His lips were sweet on yours and at times a hint bitter, like something you shouldn't have taken pleasure in tasting. A poison, that grows tolerable the more you ingest, but not any less deadly.

The tolerance being an illusion, an influence of the poison over you, foreshadowing its impending triumph, as you relinquish your willpower.

That's it. You were dwindling under its influence. Your mind grew heavy, like your limbs, with intoxication.

It was no longer bitter.

Rather, it became cloying, and you were innately and undeniably insatiable.

Taehyung hoisted your hips to reposition them over his, desiring your proximity. Possibly as equally intoxicated. The question hung over your heads in the shape of a watchful moon.

Who was the poison?

The hold on you was rough, but harmless. It was the gentlest rough-grip you have ever been subjected to. You allowed it.

"I shouldn't do this." Your shallow breath ghosted his swollen lips in torment.

He nuzzled the distance in desperation, and you obliged, tasting him apprehensively.

Just one peck.

Then, another.

And, what if, perhaps you held his lips in place with adoration and reverence. Held them in a warm hug, as if to shield them from the cool breeze blowing in from the sea.

Would that have been such a crime?

The set of trespassers that tore through your blouse certainly were (criminal). They robbed you of any and every modicum of self-restraint.

You were no longer holding his lips. You had long since graduated to a sculptor, molding them to your will with each measured graze. Simultaneously, you started to circle your hips over his, back and forth, round around.

"We should stop." Taehyung breathed raggedly into your neck. "Tell me to stop," and it came across as half-plea, half-demand.

You defied him, pulled him close, your breasts flushed against his sturdy chest.

You were definitely the poison.

You were a corrupt, filthy little thing. Loved it when he called you out on it.

Tonight, he held you like you were something, someone sacred, like you were ceramic at risk of shattering in his hands.

You wrestled his gentle touch, wanting him to defile as he'd done enough times before for it to not be mistaken with error, overwhelming tempation.

You were temptation embodied, but he never once feigned sanctity.

Equally so, if not more, you deeply desired to defile him, to permeate every inch of him until the crime became undeniable.

Fast, is how it unfolded.

But is there any better way to go?

Live fast, die young, right? Shine so bright you burn out. A phenomenal supernova. Watchers gathered to experience a historic event.

There certainly wasn't an absolute right or wrong way to go. But, if there had been, Taehyung was certain that way was fast. To burn like the dozens of stars in the sky, framing the quaint balcony. One moment there, the next gone.

He knew that his departure approached just as quickly as dawn brightened the horizon. He knew you weren't oblivious to this fact.

Something in him winced at the thought of putting you through it again.

"Tell me to stop."

"Don't stop."

"Tell me to go," he almost begged, groaning as you kissed down the column of his neck.

"Stay."

He wished he could.

A ringtone blared across the room, funneling out through the creak between the balcony door and the frame. It said what neither could bring themselves to utter.

Taehyung marched out of the room, half-dressed, delirious but with a direction in mind.

And just like that, the bitter taste returned to overpower your senses.

The whispers in your ears, grew deceiving.

Deceitful little lies. Impossible possibilities.

The possibilities that had grazed your fingertips crumbled into mounds of sand.

Sand, after all, is only ever withered shells.

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wonhaz · 4 months

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astronomy - y.jw

pairing : jungwon x fem!reader genre : angst, childhood friends to lovers to strangers, a little fluff, inspired by conan gray's song - astronomy wc : 1.5k warnings : break up, skinship (cuddling), a lot of time skips, that's all i think? (lmk if there are more!) synopsis : jungwon is your childhood friend and you end up falling in love with him, you were both like two stars shining together in the sky, or so you thought. what happens when he chooses to part ways and forgets about you? maybe you're just two worlds apart. a/n : the middle picture of jungwon laying on the red flowers was literally giving superache album cover

"we drive through the woods, rich neighborhoods to watch" jungwon was your childhood friend.

you've known him since you were born because your mothers were friends and had given birth months apart. you practically grew up together, you spent your days walking to school, watching movies or playing with him. when both of you were 7 you made a pinky promise, "promise to never leave each other?" "promise."

"we joked as we looked that they were too good for us"

pinky promise forgotten, with both of you now 16, he asks you a question that catches you off guard. "(name), do you have a crush?" "no, I don't, why do you ask?" you replied tilting your head in confusion. "nothing, all my friends have crushes so I was wondering if you had one. the rich kids around here are too good for us anyway." he states and you both burst out in laughter. you have shared laughs with jungwon before, but this time you feel giddy and strange, something you've never felt before. maybe you did have a crush after all.

maybe its only a one time thing you thought, but your feelings remained, it was clear. Your feelings for jungwon weren't going anywhere.

you sit at your desk one night, looking through your window at the dimly lit room across from you.

jungwon's room.

there he was, laying on his bed on his phone with the window slightly open to let the night breeze in, you don't know what came over you but you felt bold. grabbing a piece of pink paper on your table, you pour your heart out. thinking long and hard about what to write, you hurriedly fold the pink paper into an airplane and open your window. aiming it carefully, you throw it towards his window, watching it float down onto the floor beside him, you see him look up from his phone, and look at you. flashing him an awkward and embarrassed smile, he reaches for the paper plane carefully unfolds it. you watch as jungwon's eyes scan the paper and hold your breathe.

dear jungwon, when i'm with you, it feels different now, i value our friendship, but lately i've been wanting more. we have done so many things together, we've traveled the seas, we've ridden the stars, we've seen everything, from saturn to mars. your eyes are like black holes, i fear of getting lost in them. you're my universe, and i think i like you. -(name)

what will he say? will it ruin your friendship? will this change things? You hadn't thought about it that far.

after what seems like hours, he looks up from the paper with flushed cheeks, you watch as he slowly walks to his own desk and scribbles something on a piece of paper. he holds it up to the window and you can't believe what you're seeing.

"i like you too, be my universe?"

you flash him a soft smile which he returns and you nod, his smile widens and he mouths you a "see you tomorrow" to which you flash a thumbs up, smiling as you close the curtains as he does the same.

mornings were now spent walking hand in hand to school, jungwon offering to carry your bag for you, hanging out in the others house, sleeping over, and cuddling in bed.

it was perfect.

you both were happy together and you thought nothing could change what you both had now.

"now i know, now i know. it's time to go, it's time to go"

college. you decided to stay and chose a college near you, the same couldn't be said for jungwon. he had a dream. the dream to be an idol, to perform on a stage. you knew he auditioned, a part of you wished he didn't pass, but it felt selfish of you. when he got the news that he had passed, he told you first, you gave him a smile but he didn't seem to notice the sadness behind it. now here you are, standing outside his house about to say goodbye.

"(name), can i talk to you really quick?"

you nod and jungwon leads you to the side of the garden, and you prepare yourself. "lets break up." he says. you're taken aback never did you think he would do this. "jungwon w-what are you saying?" "i'm being serious (name), i want. to break up" he says with no expression. "what did i do wrong? we can work it out just tell me what's wrong" you say your voice shaking, "i don't feel the spark anymore (name), it's getting boring, you're getting boring and i want to end this." he makes his way back to the car before you can say anything.

"stop trying to keep us alive, you can't force the stars to align when they've already died."

you were going to reassure him that you could work around the distance between you. but what's done is done, his dream was his main goal and nothing was going to stop him from achieving it. you watch as he hugs his parents and gets in the car, making eye contact with you, his eyes expressionless proof that he truly did have no more interest in you. heart breaking, he drives off and his parents make their way back inside their house, but you can't move. you're stuck standing there, jungwon, your love, was gone.

"from far away, i wish i'd stayed with you"

you tried to move on you really did, it took a long time for you to get over him. you forced yourself to forget, forget all the memories you made together, the pink promise you made, everything. you saw him rise to success, you were happy for him. but it still pained you to think about what you could've been if he still had that spark, if he didn't leave, if he still loved you. you were not fond of loud concerts and people continuously screaming and jumping but here you were, in front of a concert stadium. your friend had bought 2 tickets for her and another friend but her friend ended up cancelling last minute taking you instead. you would rather be at home and asleep than here, surrounded by thousands of other people your age, and bound to stand up for the next 2 hours because your friend had gotten floor seats. the lights starts to dim and the audience erupts into cheers, the stage lights come on highlighting 7 boys standing. the camera focuses on the one in the middle and your heart drops.

jungwon. it was jungwon.

"but here face to face, a stranger that i once knew."

you didn't expect to see him ever again, not like this at least, at his groups concert. dumbstruck, you try to ignore the fact that your at your ex's concert and try to enjoy the music. after a few songs, they end their dance and stop to talk to the fans. the group does their introduction and each member introduces themself. the 6 other members finish and jungwon goes last. his face is focused on the screen and the crowd starts chanting, "hello everyone, i'm jungwon and thank you for coming tonight!" he says with a big smile. he may have changed but his smile was just like you remember it. you watch as he walks around the edge of the stage approaching your section, you can see him better now and it all starts coming back to you, all the memories together.

he waves at the fans and you make eye contact, his smile slightly fades and he looks just as surprised as you did when you first saw him on stage. he slowly raises his hand and waves at you not breaking eye contact and flashes you an embarrassed smile and turns around to walk to the other sections, but not without turning around to look at you again. you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding and your friend notices, "are you okay? you haven't said anything since they came on stage." giving you a concerned look. "i'm okay, just the adrenaline rush i guess." you lie reassuring her that you were fine, your heart was beating fast at the sight of jungwon again.

as the concert comes to an end, the members say their final greetings, each one thanks the fans in their speeches. "tonight was a special one for me, and i'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming, i hope we all see each other again!" he says with a smile, he looks at you in the eye again "i love you." and maybe, just maybe, that was directed to you. but no one could know that and they never should know, the crowd starts cheering again as they bow and the lights come to a dim. you were now strangers to each other, the past didn't matter.

you're just a normal girl, jungwon is an idol.

it's like astronomy, you're two worlds apart.

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 3 years

Text

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.)

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not.

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look," you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him. First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions.

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him.

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5

WC: 1526

Rated: M

Chapter Tags: angst, mentions of physical congenital defects, name calling, Freud, mention of psychological disorders, mention of disabilities

🧠

Maybe it was naïve of you to hope for an apology from him after the incident in the classroom. He was a dick, after all.

Six weeks into the term and things had not gotten better, but in fact much worse. Every little thing he did drove you up a wall. He would talk to himself out loud about who knows what. He would ask you your thoughts and opinions on the theories he studied, and then try to challenge everything you said. He would make you feel small as he spoke down to you or he would laugh at your ideas. He would ask for help with the dumbest things too, like picking up pens and typing up all his notes. And worst of all, he would just watch you. It probably wasn’t really all that creepy, he didn’t actually give you those vibes, but you felt like a bug under a microscope.

The only time you could tolerate the doctor was when he was giving his lectures. It was like he was a totally different person. Gone was the calculating and stubborn doctor, and in his place stood a thoughtful, passionate, intellectual that tried to see the world from as many facets as possible. He was so incredibly open minded. You'd even seen him crack a smile or two.

You wondered what he might be like if that was his personality all the time. Would the two of you get along better and argue less? Would he think more highly of you, and not just as some dumb assisstant? You doubt it.

“-And then he handed me a stack of notebooks and asked me to type everything up. All his handwritten notes. Like oh my god, get with the times and just type them the first go yourself.” You were set upside down on Bitsy’s bed. This week Kreizler had amped up your workload, so of course you had to vent to your friends.

Feeling the blood pool in your head you roll over and sit up with a huff. “He’s just so strange… and he’s left handed but to the extreme. I don’t think I’ve seen him use his right hand once the entire time we’ve worked together. Like how odd is that?”

“Maybe he’s got OCD or something?” Margo, your mutual friend suggests.

You contemplate what she said. Perhaps he did have something else going on? The more you think about it the more you realize he really didn’t ever use his right hand; when he asked for your assistance it was always for a two-handed job. Perhaps… You are broken out of your trance when Bitsy interjects.

“You need to either find a new hobby to distract yourself or you need to hate-fuck the guy already.” She doesn’t look up from her phone.

Her comment catches you so off guard you choke on your own spit. Margo pats your back as you overcome the coughing fit. “Bitsy what the actual fuck?” She just gives you a ‘what?’ look. Clearly she’s grown two heads to even consider suggesting that to you.

“It’s not so crazy. You like older guys, you said it yourself that he’s smart and he’s cute. Maybe this is what you both need. Get out some frustration.” She tosses her phone to the bed. “And to be honest I’d like to be able to talk to you about literally anything other than how much you can’t stand the ‘good doctor dickwad’.”

Your mouth is gaping at her in your shock. Her words settle in you like a bag of rocks. “Oh my god I really do talk about him that much don't I?” Shame and embarrassment wash over you as you realize that yes, the majority of your day is spent complaining about Kreizler. “I’m sorry guys, I’ll make an effort to tone it down.”

“It’ll probably help with the stress too if you stop,” Margo adds.

“That and getting dicked down - how long has it been for you?”

“Yeah no,” you get off the bed and walk out of the room, “I’m not answering that.”

“Too long then!” Bitsy calls after you with a laugh.

He really thought he had been doing better with you. He couldn’t say you were his favorite person by any means, but you were proficient at your job and the tasks he gave you. A hard worker. He tried to engage in friendly conversation or to talk about the lessons he was planning with you. As little as you had actually studied psychology he found your insights to be most interesting and enlightening. He actually enjoyed it.

You, on the other hand, apparently did not.

Today was going the usual route - he attempted to engage you in discourse; you were determined to defend and fight your way out of it. Oddly enough, for as much as you loathed talking with him you were always giving him your opinion on things.

“How could you be so base to believe that? We are all individuals with our own wants, needs, and desires, sure, but to only be subject to that? To have no freedom or choice in anything we do or say? It’s ridiculous.” You sat with your arms across your chest, a sneer on your face as you argued with him.

His face remains calm through your tirade. He himself took Freud’s work with a grain of salt, but he was interested in your reaction to his questioning. So he pushed you. “And yet you sit here now with the most basic principle being exhibited - the presence of Freud’s Id hard at work - as you become frustrated and angered by my words. Is that in itself not the desire to let anger take control? Acting without fear of consequence? To be exactly what you now claim is ridiculous?”

You scoff. “No, Doctor, because I’ve chosen to not put up with the bullshit. I choose of my own free will.”

“But what is free will, if not chained to our deepest desires and fears? Us acting on the primal needs within us so out of our control? You have no choice in the matter, only impulse. Nothing you choose matters, you are inconsequential.” Laszlo found that he liked to rile you up. You were more forthcoming in your ideas and defenses; a worthy partner to discuss psychological theory with. But today he had pushed you too far.

By this point you had had enough. His constant instagation had driven you to the end of your rope. In reality it probably wasn’t that bad, and you really weren’t that confrontational of a person. But god, with him you just couldn’t seem to hold yourself back. He drove you up the wall.

“Is that what you want? To study me like your little project, seeing how you can get me to crack? Your own personal basket case to psychoanalyze? What - does that get you off at night or something?” You don’t even care that he’s your boss anymore or how inappropriate your suggestion is. If he can push and push and push without regard to what is considered socially allowed then you’d be damned if you didn’t too.

His face is merely curious, a hint of a smirk on it, as you all but yell at him from your desk. He sits back, a pen in his left hand, his right resting atop the desk. You notice his right thumb twitch.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” blurts from your scowled mouth. You don’t know why you ask. Maybe his idea about being chained to our deepest curiosities, no matter how questionable, had some weight behind it.

"I beg your pardon?" His eyes change the second the question slips from your lips. No longer is he eying you with amusement, but he looks as if he might snap at any second. His face is hard, you can see his jaw clenched under the full beard he sports.

At his reaction you know that you screwed up. You never should have said anything at all. Sure he could be as rude as the day is long, but he wasn’t necessarily a cruel man. He had little moments where he was genuinely kind to you. He even made you tea once.

“I’m sorry- I…. I don’t know where that came from. It was inappropriate of me and I apologize, Dr. Kreizler.”

The silence that overcomes the room is deafening, so unlike the boisterous discourse that was taking place a moment ago. You turn away hoping to resume your work. You even take a moment to pray to whoever is listening that you didn’t just get yourself fired.

“It was a congenital defect.” You turn back towards him, but he does not meet your eyes. He speaks low again. “My arm never developed correctly so it is weaker and has less function. That is all.” You nod at him, swallowing. The look in his eyes does not match what he tells you. He has the look of someone haunted by their past. It is a look you are all too familiar with yourself. You both finish your work in silence.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle

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hoe-doroki · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)

Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.

The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.

His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk

rating: explicit, 18+

wc: 5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.

That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.

“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”

Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.

“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”

“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.

You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.

Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.

The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.

Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.

Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.

“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink

“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.

“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.

“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”

“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”

You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.

“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.

“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.

“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.

You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.

“Woah, look at her.”

Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.

“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”

Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.

“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.

“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.

“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.

“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”

That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”

“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.

“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”

“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.

“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”

Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.

“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”

Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”

“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”

“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.

Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.

“Hello, uh, miss…”

You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.

You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”

“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”

You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.

“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering. “You see, I don’t really dance.”

The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”

You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.

Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”

This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.

“It’s also more fun with someone else.”

Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”

Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.

“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.

There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.

You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.

You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.

Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.

He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.

“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.

You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”

You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.

Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.

“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”

“None.”

“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.

Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.

You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”

The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”

He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.

“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”

“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.

“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”

He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.

“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”

That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.

“I’m good,” you whimpered.

“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”

He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.

“Strip and suck my cock.”

You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.

Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.

“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.

The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.

“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”

“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.

“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”

“Here?” you asked.

There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.

“Was I unclear, princess?”

“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.

“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.

“Which room is yours?”

“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.

Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.

You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Izuku.”

You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“That’s better.”

He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.

“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.

“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.

“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.

You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.

“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.

You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.

“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Touch yourself, then.”

You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.

“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.

He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.

“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.

“No, that was amazing,” you said.

Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”

“Cabinet above the sink.”

“Great.”

Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.

“You got up,” he said.

“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”

“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”

His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.

“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”

“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.

You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

“Can I?”

His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.

“Of course,” you said.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”

“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.

There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.

“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”

“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.

“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.

“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”

“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.

Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.

“Definitely.”

#ask ana #deku smut #izuku midoriya smut #not/sfw #mha smut #bnha smut

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mianavs · 3 years

Text

Ameliorate

Your life was always a dark abyss until Matsukawa came in and made everything better

Matsukawa x f!reader

a/n: hands down the most difficult piece I’ve worked on but it’s finally done. not sure how i feel about it but i hope you all enjoy it anyway! kind of a slow burn fyi

tw: smut, oral (f!reader receiving), heavy angst, mentions of death/grieving

wc: 5.8k

It was a call you didn’t want to take. You were at work going over some accounts when the screen of your cell came to life and angrily vibrated on your desk. Sighing, you reached over to swipe on the red phone icon but the caller id caught your eye leaving you stunned.

[Mother]

You almost missed the call, lost in the negative emotions that the title unburied from the dark recesses of your mind. On impulse, you answered last minute and took a deep breath before you spoke to your mother for the first time since you left home four years ago. In the second it took for your mother to speak, you held out for an apology but instead received the news that your father had passed away the night before.

You exchanged few words with your mother, who was as frigid as ever, but nonetheless agreed to return home for the funeral. After informing your supervisor and taking off the rest of the week, you collected your things to leave only to be bombarded by your coworkers offering their condolences. You accepted their sincerity but felt nothing except for a queer emptiness.

Upon reaching the ground floor of the building, the elevator doors opened and a familiar voice caught your attention. You looked up to face your ex-fiancé speaking animatedly on the phone—until he saw you and his smile faltered.

It had been a mutual decision. After two years of dating, he’d wanted marriage and you—well, you weren’t sure what you wanted but marriage sure wasn’t it. The last you’d heard he had gotten married to some girl from HR and he looked happy. You plastered a smile on your face and greeted him with a nod before heading out.

At least one of you was happy.

On the train to Miyagi, memories of your parents occupied your thoughts. Your relationship them had always been strained. As the only child of a prestigious university professor and a retired news anchor turned housewife, they expected a lot from you academically and socially. Throughout your childhood, you struggled under the immense pressure they placed and you , more often than not, disappointed them.

It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to be their perfect daughter, you always fell short and got reproached accordingly. Your above average grades were never good enough. Your clumsiness and constant slouch made you unladylike, and your awkward mumbled speech was shameful. No matter what you did, the scrutiny never stopped and your imperfections only worsened over time. Your grades fell, you avoided going out with your parents to social events, and you spoke very little to your parents.

A quiet girl with no self-esteem, you started high school at Aoba Josai and everything changed when you met Matsukawa Issei. He approached you first during homeroom on your first day of school and never stopped talking to you from then on. He was patient and kind with you but also pushed you to get out of you shell. Before you knew it, he became your best friend and the two of you spent all of your free time together.

Issei’s friendship raised you up in many forms. Your grades increased after all those study sessions with him and Hanamaki. You stopped looking down at your shoes and found that the sky was much nicer to look at. You laughed, yelled, cried, and talked to Issei about anything and everything.

The change had been so sudden that even your parents noticed and treated you better. They stopped criticizing your every movement and that did wonders to your confidence. While the relationship between you and your parents slightly improved, your relationship with Issei bloomed like the cherry blossoms that fell on the day he confessed to you. For the first time in your life, you were truly happy until everything shattered when your parents found out about you and Issei.

You were reckless with the lies you told your parents to sneak out and see Issei. Your mind was clouded with thoughts of your boyfriend that you hadn’t noticed your parents had been awake when you snuck out at night. That night your parents caught you outside on a park bench with Issei’s head on your lap. As a result, you were confined to your room for a week with your mother becoming your personal jailer and after getting a taste of love and freedom—you refused to go back to being that insecure girl.

You rebelled against your parents. You got into screaming matches with your mother and argued with your father. The worst part of it all was the guilt that you felt after you’d yell at your mother or insulted your father. In that moment, you’d see the hurt in their eyes and the hesitation before they sent you to your room. You hated those looks because it proved that they too had feelings and you were capable of hurting them just like they’d hurt you.

Until you graduated, you lived like a ghost in your own home avoiding your parents as much as you could. You filled the emptiness you felt with Issei, who became your whole world. You went to all of his volleyball matches, he picked you up after work, and you spent most of your time at his house and with his family. The two of you planned a future together during your first year at college in Yokohama until the news of your mother falling ill sent you back home.

“Now arriving at Tokyo station”

The announcement interrupted your musings and you pulled out your phone to distract yourself from the bustle of people exiting the train. You scrolled through your social media page until a rare post from an old friend caught your attention. Oikawa had uploaded a photo of a historic site in Argentina and you found yourself searching for Issei’s name among the thousands of likes and comments. While Issei’s name hadn’t popped up, Hanamaki’s did and you clicked on his profile thoughtlessly. It didn’t take much digging on your behalf to find what you were looking for.

Only a couple of posts down was a photo of Hanamaki and Issei from a year ago at a restaurant you would recognize anywhere—after all, you’d worked there for two years. You couldn’t help but admire how good they looked. You memorized every detail of Issei’s face before a thought crossed your mind and your finger hovered over the screen.

A tap on the photo revealed Issei’s account and you hesitated to wonder if stalking your ex-boyfriend’s social media was the right move before you tapped on his username anyway and his profile opened up. It was on private to your dismay but his account picture showed you more than enough. It was one of Issei with one arm swung over a pretty woman’s shoulder. Shutting off your phone, you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care but the tightness in your chest proved otherwise.

Gazing out the window at the rural towns the train passed reminded you of your father and his love for the countryside. You hated to admit it but, after living in the city for three years, you came to share the same sentiments as your father.

After returning home following the news of your mother’s illness, your father moved the family to rural Miyagi believing the fresh country air would do her good. Moving back with your parents wasn’t as difficult as you’d feared after leaving everything behind. Your mother still nagged you over everything but not as cruelly and would occasionally compliment your cooking when you fed her.

It was the relationship with your father, however, that changed the most which was why his deception hurt you the most. Your father was the one that helped you transfer to the university he taught at. The two of you always left for school together and conversations about school eventually filled the quiet void during those hour-long train rides to Sendai. Your conversations became personal at night over tea or sake and, in those moments, you felt as if you could forgive your parents and develop a relationship with them.

You should have been more suspicious about your mother’s condition. Whenever you asked your father about it, you’d attributed his wavering gaze to concern over your mother. The improved relationship between you and your parents distracted you from the unchanging condition of your mother despite constant medication and hospital visits. It never crossed your mind that the sickness had only been a ploy to guilt you into coming back to Miyagi so your parents could resume molding their matured daughter into what they wanted.

You found out by chance while listening in to a conversation amongst them but that was all it took to turn your newfound affection for your parents into resentment. For the entirety of the confrontation, you bit back tears when their reactions confirmed everything had been made up. After packing up your things and disowning your parents, you left home vowing never to come back.

“Now arriving at Sendai station”

The long drive to your childhood home did nothing to prepare you for the meeting with your mother. She looked tired and beat down; a sharp contrast to the strong woman she used to be.

“You look awful,” She chided, eyeing you with her sharp gaze. “You’re thin and sickly.”

“So are you.” Your retort was immediate and thoughtless but it shut your mother up. After a moment of deafening silence, she offered to help you with your bag but you declined.

“Come downstairs after you unpack. Dinner is almost ready.” With that, your mother left to the kitchen.

You were surprised to find your room in the same state it had been when you left for college. Palming through your old notebooks, opening your drawers to sift through old clothes, and collapsing on your bed to bury your nose in the sheets made you miss the simpler days of high school.

In the end, you were too distracted by your room to unpack but made sure to wash up before heading down to dinner—a habit your mother instilled in you and returned after only being in the house for twenty minutes. You also took your usual spot across your mother while the chair that your father had once sat in stood bare at the head of the table. The empty spot was disconcerting but your eyes remained fixed on the chair while your mind worked to restore the image of your father on it. Your trancelike state stopped when your mother cleared her throat.

“The wake will be tomorrow morning so ready by nine.”

“Do I need to do anything?”

“A small speech is expected of you.” She stated and left no room for argument. “There will also be familiar faces so behave accordingly.”

The meaning behind your mother’s warning dawned on you when the two of you entered the funeral home and were greeted by the one familiar face you didn’t expect to see—Issei.

If he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it and was all business when he addressed your mother. Your shock only increased when your mother didn’t go off on Issei and instead treated him like an actual human.

When his sharp gaze shifted to your form, the air around you seemed to thicken and breathing became impossible. Standing in front of Issei took you back in time to those days when Issei would wait for you in the mornings to walk to school. You could have lost yourself in his eyes but the purpose of your return tore your eyes away and you bowed in greeting, not trusting your voice. He bowed as well and offered his condolences before turning to your mother and discussing the schedule and other details as they walked into the building with you in tow.

The discomfort you felt during the service increased tenfold with the arrival of the guests. Former colleagues of your father, friends of your mother, and neighbors crowded the small funeral home and they all had their eyes on you. The condolences, hugs, and pats left you suffocated and desensitized. Before long, their words fused together into a clangor that left you disoriented. You thought you were going to pass out until a former professor of yours asked a question that destroyed whatever remained of your composure.

“…so when did they find out the tumor was malignant?”

Tumor?

Malignant?

Your overwhelmed brain pieced together the information until you understood what had caused your father’s death—cancer. In that moment, everything ceased to exist and there was only you and your thoughts. Your blood ran cold and all of your limbs went numb. While your mouth hung open, not a syllable fell from your lips. As opposed to your frozen body, your mind raced and a whirlwind of emotions wreaked havoc on your being. When you came to terms with the fact that you hadn’t known your father’s cause of death, a strangled cry escaped your mouth and you darted out of the room.

The urge to leave and never return overcame all logic but, before you could make it out the door, a pair of large warm hands clasped your shoulders, gently stopping you dead in your tracks. The faint smell of cologne and musk hit you and you knew it was Issei before you looked up.

Warmth radiated from every part of his body and all you wanted was to bury yourself into him and hide from the world. His eyes widened slightly before he looked around and guided you away into a small room away from the guests. There was a sofa that he led you too and sat down next to you. Suddenly, Issei’s hands were on your cheeks wiping away tears you didn’t know where there.

“God…I’m a fucking mess.” You cursed and buried your face into your hands.

“Funerals are…difficult,” Issei offered. “Trust me, I work here.”

“I didn’t know,” you muttered raising your head. “I didn’t even know how my father died. I never asked my mother and she never told me. She just told me he died and I took a train here without thinking.”

“Everyone processes death differently, Y/N.”

“Fuck, Issei—I’m his only daughter for crying out loud!” Your voice broke as a fresh set of tears threatened to spill. “We’ve never had a stable relationship…but still, what kind of a daughter doesn’t know the cause of death of her own father? I just feel like I’m suffocating and I-I…”

Sobs tore out of your chest inhibiting you from speaking and Issei didn’t hesitate to envelop you in his strong arms that rocked you while he whispered calming reassurances in your ear.

“Shhh…it’s okay.”

“Everything will be fine.”

“This will pass.”

Your cries eventually ceased but neither of you let go. It felt easy to cling onto Issei while he held you just as tightly. The return of your wits, however, brought you back to reality and you let him go knowing it wasn’t right to cling onto anyone’s boyfriend—even if he’d been your friend before he’d been your boyfriend.

“Thank you, Issei. I should really head back now.”

Issei’s grip loosened slowly until he faced you with his thick brows knitted with concern. You smiled hoping it was convincing enough to reassure him before the two of you stood up and left the room. Near the entrance of the hall stood your mother angrily pacing back and forth until she saw you and Issei and opened her mouth to speak but stopped. You decided to speak first before she misunderstood the situation.

“I needed some space to calm down and Issei helped me find a place.”

Her piercing eyes took you in and lingered on your eyes; they were no doubt red and puffy from crying. The anger seemed to dissipate and her shoulder’s relaxed before she finally addressed you.

“It’s time for your speech. Are you ready?”

Coming from the woman that never asked you anything, her question caught you off guard but stirred something in you. You answered by nodding and followed your mother into the packed hall and up to the front where your father lied in his coffin. You stood to the side while your mother addressed the guests and you looked at your father for the first time in years.

The sight should have made you feel anything but the relief that washed over you. He looked at peace and it reminded you of the rare glimpses you’d caught of him talking with his students, fishing in the small pond of your country home, or drinking sake at night. It was with those memories that you replaced your mother and spoke to the guests.

You were composed for the entire speech despite your distraught state only minutes prior. It felt like a blanket of serenity had wrapped itself over your shoulders and shielded you from any remaining guilt. In the end, you wished your father well not because you forgave him but because you wanted to close that chapter in your book.

The rest of the ceremony was easier to stomach without the turmoil in your head. After the last guest left, you and your mother spoke to Issei and his boss about last minute details for the funeral the next day. Your mother offered a brisk thanks before heading out first and Issei’s boss followed, leaving you and your ex alone. The desire to ask him for his contact info was immense, but your better judgement won and you offered him a quick thanks before following your mother.

Very little words were exchanged with your mother that night and you headed up to bed completely drained from the day’s events. You’d just finished hanging up your mourning clothes when your mother knocked on the door and waited until you let her in—something she never did.

Still in her mourning gown, she held out a letter addressed to you from your father and seeing her up close, you noticed the wet cheeks and puffy red skin around her eyes. In all the years you lived with your mother, you had never seen her cry. Crying out hysterically? Yes. Witnessing actual tears or the evidence of tears on her face, however, not even once. Which was why you stood stunned as your mother placed the letter in your hand before leaving you to your privacy.

You tore open the sealed envelope and opened the letter to see that it was dated one year ago.

{Daughter,

If you are reading this, it is because I am no longer on this earth. As the disease weakens my body, I know that I will never see you again and write this to convey everything that I could not in life. I am well-aware that I lost the right to your forgiveness and I do not wish to receive it. Nothing will ever justify my actions towards you. I failed you as a father and caused you to grow up in a miserable home. I held you to expectations that not even I could achieve and I will regret the pain and suffering I caused you until my last breath.

I remember the day your mother brought you into this world. When I saw your frail little body and held you in my arms for the first time, I was struck with an immeasurable amount of fear. I was terrified of being a father and didn’t want you to suffer the way I did. I wanted to prepare you for the world in the way my parents never did for me. However, in the end, my own selfish desires to re-live my life through you tainted whatever intentions I’d had. I will never forgive myself for the irreparable damage I caused you therefore I ask that you do the same.

I wish to end this message by expressing how proud I am of the strong woman you’ve become. Everything you’ve accomplished is derived of your own merits and in spite of the suffering I caused you. Your mother and I are happy to hear of your successes and wish you happiness in your married life. I know you will live a long and happy life because you are not like me. You’re a fighter. You know what you want and take it without regrets.

With this, I hope that you will continue to grow and forget me as I am undeserving of living in your thoughts.}

What began as tears trailing down your cheeks, ended up as wails mourning your father. The proud man that you knew him to be in life came undone in that short letter and every word pierced your heart. In a manner reminiscent of the past, you disobeyed his requests and genuinely forgave your father while engraving each of his words into your heart.

The urge to see your mother led you to tuck away the letter and open the door only to find her already there. Muffling her sobs with her hands, her whole body shook as she gazed up at you. The fragility of her state stirred your compassion and your arms wrapped around her. Collapsing onto the ground, the two of you clung to each other and truly mourned the death of your father.

You woke up enveloped in motherly warmth like you were an infant again. Her eyes that once scrutinized your every move, were softer now as she talked about your father’s last days over breakfast. The hand that had disciplined you in the past now held yours during the Buddhist priest’s chant at the funeral. The circumstances were wretched but you finally felt at peace with your parents.

The funeral and cremation passed with you and your mother holding each other up. As the two of you jointly picked up the bone fragments with chopsticks and placed them in the urn, you came to terms with the fact that the relationship with your mother would never go back to what it was. A sense of filial duty stirred within you for the first time in a while only it wasn’t out of guilt—this time, you genuinely wanted to take care of your mother.

You found yourself outside of the crematorium waiting for your mother to settle things when Issei walked up to you. He’d been at the funeral ceremony, of course, but the crematorium wasn’t a part of his duties so you were surprised to see him. He still wore his black slacks and matching button down but his tie was nowhere to be seen and he’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt.

He began by inquiring about the cremation to make sure everything had gone well. You assured him everything went well before an awkward silence pervaded the space between. Desperate to fill the void with anything, you asked Issei a question only to find him simultaneously asking you one.

“Talked to Hana—”

“How long are yo—”

Your face flushed and Issei rubbed the back of his head as the two of you apologized for interrupting each other.

“You go first,” Issei gently insisted.

“I was going to ask if you’d talked to Hanamaki lately. I saw that you two went out…” The implication of your words caused you to clamp your mouth shut while your face burned even more.

“You saw…us?” Issei sounded amused and you looked up to find that same smirk from six years ago that produced butterflies in your stomach.

“Er…yeah,” you admitted. “I kinda found Hanamaki’s social media and happened a picture of you two.”

“Oh, that picture. That was the last time I saw him since he lives in Tokyo now. We still text though.”

“So Tokyo, huh? Good for Hanamaki.”

“What about you?” Issei asked, his eyes more intense than before. “Your mother mentioned you live in the city.”

“Uh yeah,” You said fidgeting with the material of your kimono. “I live in Yokohama. Got a job offer after graduation and I’ve been there ever since.”

“…Are you going back now?”

Issei avoided your eyes by looking away—an old habit you instantly recognized. Like the old days, you moved in the direction of his face and stood on your tippy toes with a cheeky grin on your face. Surprise flashed on his eyes before his mouth broke into a fond smile.

“I’m staying for a couple more days.” You replied and the next word flowed out naturally like water in a stream. “Why?”

“I wanted to catch up with you.” He admitted before his expression sobered. “Only if you’re up for it though. I don’t want you to feel like—”

“I’d love to catch up!”

And with that, the two of you exchanged contact information before your mother approached you. As you watched Issei walk away, you mother piped up next to you.

“He’s a good man. I regret not seeing it before.” It wasn’t exactly an apology but the effect was the same to you.

“And I regret letting him go,” you lamented.

“You still have a chance.” She replied and you met her gaze.

“I don’t. He has a girlfriend.”

“Then why did I overhear his boss trying to set him up on a date with his niece?” Your mother countered and then started to walk towards the newly arrived taxi.

“Wait, what?!”

Heeding your mother’s advice, you dressed up for your meeting with Issei. He picked you up and the first thing you noticed was the similar colored clothing the two of you wore. Laughing it off, you got into his car and made small talk about the changes in town while on route to the restaurant.

The conversation gave you the perfect excuse to admire him at ease. Issei had always been handsome but you had to admit that he’d really grown into his looks. Any lingering teenage awkwardness was gone and replaced by an air of confidence that he exuded in his speech, mannerisms, and voice. From his defined jaw to the protruding veins on his exposed forearm, you memorized each detail and replaced the memory you had of college freshman Issei with it.

Issei took you to the same restaurant you spent most of your evenings in during high school waiting tables and chatting with the volleyball team after closing time. Unlike the rest of the town, the tables, chairs, and décor remained the same and you were overcome with emotion the moment you walked in. After chatting with the owner for a bit, Issei led you to the table the boys would always take after practice to wait until you got off work.

“I can’t believe this place remained the same after all these years.” You commented after placing your orders.

“I know,” Issei replied grinning. “I can’t imagine this town without it.”

“Just sitting here brings back so many memories of us…” you trailed off when you noticed Issei’s unwavering gaze on you.

“Ah! And the boys too!” You added letting out a nervous giggle before taking a sip of your beer to cool your heated head. “How are they, by the way? I’ve seen Oikawa’s posts of Argentina but what about Iwaizumi?”

The conversation about the whereabouts of the volleyball team lasted until the food arrived. You asked about his family in between bites and Issei answered each of your questions about his siblings and parents.

After finishing your meal and ordering a second round of drinks the conversation switched over to work with Issei eager to find out what you did.

“Financing! Can you believe it?” You laughed. “Specifically, in the mortgage department.”

“Seriously?” Issei chuckled. “Whatever happened to being a novelist?”

“Life happened.” You answered and raised your glass in a mock toast.

“Ah, trust me. I completely understand.” He clinked his glass against yours and the two of you laughed before taking a sip.

After finishing your second beer, the warmth in your cheeks and your animated speech were all clear signs you were buzzed. It wasn’t until you asked the question on your mind since you’d seen that picture that you realized just how buzzed you actually were.

“So…are you seeing anyone?” Your eyes were lowered, but when Issei didn’t respond you looked up.

Issei’s eyes were darker than they’d been. The intensity of his gaze locked your eyes on his leaving you vulnerable. You were suddenly keenly aware how intensely your heart was beating and wondered if Issei could hear it.

“Why do you ask?”

His strained voice sent chills down your spine making you painfully aware of the building tension in your core. You knew what you wanted and you suspected he wanted the same thing but you needed to confirm your suspicions.

“I saw your social media account and the picture you used. The one where you’re hugging a woman…smiling…”

The more words that spilled out, the more pathetic you sounded and you eventually trailed off while averting your eyes.

“We broke up about a year ago.”

“What?!” The word slipped through your lips when your eyes snapped back to see him sheepishly running a hand through his wavy black locks.

“We wanted different things. I felt like I was holding her back so I let her go.”

“I completely understand,” echoing his words, your hand reached across the table to his. “My engagement got cancelled for similar reasons. He wanted marriage sooner than later and I wasn’t ready.”

The two of you shared a moment when, out of the blue, Issei took ahold of your hand and used his thumb to run slow circles on your palm; a gesture he’d always used to signal he wanted to be alone with you. Your breath hitched and a lazy smirk graced his face as he lifted your wrist and pressed a kiss on your pulse point.

“I-Issei,” you gasped and darted your eyes around the room to ensure no one had seen.

“Let’s get out of here. Come to my place.”

His voice was like honey to your ears and you nodded as the tension that’d been building spread to other parts of your body. With that the bill was settled and Issei drove you to his place while keeping a hand on your inner thigh that would occasionally drift and tease your clit.

By the time the two of you made it inside his home, Issei’s tongue had tasted every part of your mouth while his lips left yours swollen. Flushed and whimpering, Issei planted wet butterfly kisses down your jaw until he reached that spot on your neck that elicited a moan from your parted lips.

Issei groaned before sucking on that spot and you to pulled him closer by tugging on his hair—a move you knew drove him crazy.

“Fuck,” his warm breath fanned on your neck. “Fuck—not here.”

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pulled his lips into another wet kiss that had him groaning into your mouth as his erection pressed against your soaked panties. He set you down on his bed and broke the kiss that left the two of you panting.

His hungry gaze traveled all over your body. Your dress was hiked up and he could make out the darkened material of your panties—the proof of your arousal. With a groan his stripped out of his shirt letting you take in his broad chest that you ached to touch. Grinning from your cute reaction he pressed a kiss to your forehead before snaking his arm behind your waist and laying you down on this middle of his bed. You reached for his clothed erection but Issei gripped your hand and placed it over your head.

“Not yet, pretty girl. Let me spoil you today.”

Issei’s skilled hands worked on your dress and slipped it off you followed by your bra and panties. His eyes raked over your body taking in the flushed skin, erect nipples, and trembling legs.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and leaned over to lick and suck on your sensitive peaks. Each flick against a nipple had you gasping. Each bite had you arching your back. The longer he teased, the more desperate your need to be touched and filled became until you took his hand and placed it between your legs.

“T-touch, me Issei, p-please...”

“That’s my needy girl,” he cooed and pressed one last kiss to your chest before settling between your legs and admiring the way your dribbling cunt clenched around nothing. “Such a pretty cunt.”

He flattened his tongue on your throbbing clit sending shocks of pleasure up your body. Issei’s mouth that alternated between sucking and biting down on your clit had you in tears from the immense pleasure and you lost count of how many times you came on his face. When his tongue delved into your aching cunt, you rutted against his face to push his tongue in deeper.

“Nghhh—Isseiiiii! Need y’now, please!”

Issei’s head rose from between you legs and just sight of his face covered in your arousal had your cunt pulsing again.

“What was that baby?” He teased and licked the translucent substance off his lips. His hands began to work on his pants and your eyes greedily took in his tented underwear. “Is this what you want, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes! Need it!”

It’d been so long since you’d been with a guy let alone one of Issei’s size. In fact, you were certain Issei was the biggest you’d ever had. That being said, the sight of his erect cock had you whimpering from both apprehension and desire.

Issei, always so attentive, noticed your reaction and settled himself on top before pressing a sweet kiss on your lips and assuring you he’d be gentle. You nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck while he rubbed his cock between your folds and against your clit in the way he’d always done before filling you.

Once your slick coated his cock, he lined himself at your entrance and slowly sheathed himself into you. The stretch was still painful even with the prep but as soon as he was halfway in, your walls relaxed and pain turned into pleasure. After bottoming out, Issei waited for your cunt to relax around him before he started moving.

With each thrust, Issei hit that spot near your cervix that built up your release time and time again. Every time your walls fluttered and your cum coated his cock, your nails raked over his back and Issei’s groans filled your ears until he too found his release. The two of you were insatiable and continued your lovemaking until the early hours of the morning.

In the end, you stayed the night and woke up mid-day with your head against Issei’s chest and his arms wrapped around you. Listening to his steady heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of his chest convinced you of the thought you’d mulled over since your father’s funeral.

You wouldn’t return to Yokohama.

268 notes · View notes

mochees · 3 years

Text

"𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗜𝗜"

-> headcanons, how they tell you they love you for the first time, part two!

characters: sakusa, iwaizumi, x fem!reader

warnings: fem reader, ✨healthy relationships✨, oikawa being oikawa

wc: 3.6K

a/n: WOAH okay uh did NOT expect that last set to be that popular,,,, y'all thirsty for love huh? me too anyway i thought id do a part two since i honestly really enjoyed writing the first set and my brain is vibrating with ✨thoughts✨ and seeing how much love it got really made me feel how i haven't felt in so long, so thank you! maybe ill turn this into a series so lemme know if u wanna see someone specific👀👀😏 also sorry for like posting and then dipping again lmao thats just my social media brand i have the attention span of a fucking worm

read part 1 here!

Sakusa Kiyoomi

okok i know its like common for sakusa to be shown as not interested in PDA (in private or public) unless hes feeling "needy"

BUT i believe that after a few weeks, maybe months if he's still unsure, he would definitely be much more comfortable with PDA

like, if its been a long time and your both serious about it and not just in a relationship to be in a relationship he starts to notice your routine

he notices the changes you make so that he's comfortable and so that you can be close to him without him being worried about icky yicky germy wormys (someone take away my thought privileges)

so now that he knows that you take care of your hygiene and exactly what you do for it, slowly he's wrapping an arm around you in 30° heat while you're both sweating

slowly he's "forgetting" his mask in the car for dates

slowly, but surely, he understands that a little bit of exposure, isn't a bad thing.

"kiyoomi?" your voice brought sakusa's eyes to yours where he could see the concern behind them.

"are you okay y/n?"

you'd decided, after three weeks of intense training and barely seeing your boyfriend, that you wanted just one day and one night with him. just the two of you, you know he'd never admit it, but he needed a break.

after atsumu decided to try out some new plays that didn't start off to well, sakusa had been silently groaning everytime he had to reach for something. he was excellent at making sure he wasn't overworking himself, and he wasn't, its just that the human body is an absolute wonder, and not in a good way. sometimes things that should have mildly injured you, left you with a tiny scrape, or a bruise or a very quick-to-fade red mark, and sometimes you drop a phone on your face and break your fucking jaw.

you offer him a gentle smile that completely washes away the concern in your eyes.

"im fine omi! but you," you reach your hands up to rest on both sides of his face turning his head side to side, studying it intensly.

"you're looking a little pale. and possibly grey."

"how do you mean y/n-chan?"

for such an intelligent man sometimes he really could be a himbo.

"i mean that i think you might be sick, baby."

sakusa stared blankly at you, as if he couldn't fathom the possibility of 'himself, sick?'

"omi? kiyoomi!" you nabbed his attention, "i think you're sick, and we best go home."

"but-" he started, but you were quick to cut him off knowing exactly what he was about to say.

"kiyoomi, it's inevitable. even if you were the worlds most decked out with ppe, and the worlds leading force in hygeine, you'd still end up catching a cold at least once. that's just how the world works baby. and don't worry about the date, all i want is to spend some time with you."

you ended up practically dragging your sad little puppy of a boyfriend back up the complex stairs and into his unit before settling him on the couch and getting to work.

"ill get you some water, you just sit here and relax. i don't want to think about what would happen if those dumbasses didnt have you there next week, bokuto and hinata would probably crack their skulls!" your attempt at a little light hearted humour helped sakusa forget for a moment, but he was quick to go back to not understanding how he was sick.

"thank you." he took the glass from your hand and rested it between his legs, when he noticed the rubber gloves you had clutched at your side. he knew what they were for, those were his cleaning gloves.

"what are you doing? you can't stay you'll..." he paused. "you'll get sick too."

"i'll be fine omi-omi! you just relax and drink lots of water, ill take care of this." you turned towards the wall with a soft smile before muttering, "ill take care of you."

sakusa watched you clean, the bucket full of diluted bleach, the duster, a cloth, and his cleaning gloves. he loved the way that they were too big for you, the way you kept having to pull them up every so often to keep them on. he loved the way that everytime he finished his glass of water, you were right there to fill it back up.

you don't even remember seeing, or hearing him lift himself from his spot on the couch and make his way over to where you were humming and covering the counters in the diluted solution. you felt a pair of big arms wrap around you, a chin on your shoulder and a kiss on your cheek.

"thank you, y/n. i love you."

thank god he caught a cold, or he might never have realized just how lucky he was.

Iwaizumi Hajime

family man

is a family man but not just ANY family man

yes, it's important to him that you like and respect his parents and vice versa

but its just slightly more important to him that you get along with his friends, his found family because im a SUCKER for the classic lilo n stitch trope

he knows that many people say that its his life and he doesn't need anyones approval etc.

but iwaizumi believes different, he believes that he doesn't need approval in the literal sense but rather approval through watching you interact with his friends and his family and how you do your best to learn about them and make time for them, even though you dont have to

and he thinks it's absolutely enthralling

the way your eyes light up when you see that book his mom has been talking about wanting to read and picking it up with no hesitation

how you're able to almost flawlessly keep up with issei and takahiro's antics while also making sure they don't go too far, something even iwaizumi struggles with

and most importantly, how effortlessly you connect with his childhood best friend.

there were many things that Iwaizumi Hajime enjoyed, volleyball, athletics, godzilla of course, spending time with three dumbasses (but he’ll never admit that) and a little while ago, he added you to that list.

you were so effortlessly able to connect with his team, his friends, and his family but most importantly, the way you were able to connect with Oikawa brought a smile to his face.

“oh, iwa-chan~, what are you admiring?” there he went again, Iwa thought, Tohru Oikawa’s dumb smirk and hyper awareness of his team, both on and off court. how he wated to head-butt him in the face. but, he showed restraint. after all, he wouldn’t want loserkawa to use you as a human shield from his head. so, he ignored the urge. but it passed as soon as he saw tohrus arm arond your shoulders, crossed feet and leaning on you ever so slightly while he took a few occasional swigs from his water.

and just like that, the incredible restraint vanished like morning mist.

you could practically see the steam coming off of his hot skin, and the vein popping out of his forehead, when you noticed what had him so heated. “trashykawa get your filthy hands off of my girlfriend!”

“excuse me!” he pouted, “my hands are clean and tailored! just like any responsible setters would be!” he stuck his lip out farther and gave you his irresistable puppy-dog eyes. “y/n-chan, i’m not filthy! am i?” he whined.

and, as the word suggests, his look was truly irresistable and you stumbled over your words. “n-no! of course not tohru!”

“see, iwa-chan! y-n thinks i’m squeaky clean!” his dumb smirk appeared again, and rather than continue with flirtykawas obvious games, Iwa opted for the less violen approach.

“don’t flatter yourself, dirtykawa. she’s just being nice.” he growled. “I’m done for the day, i have a project due. y-n.” he offered his hand to you like the gentleman he is not forcing you to take it, but the look in his eyes told you that he wanted you too.

“see you later, tohru!” you gave him a quick hug and intertwined your fingers with iwa’s.

now, technically, girls aren’t allowed in the boys locker room but since it’s after hours and just you and iwaizumi no one cared. to be fair though, literally no one knew except the team so, whatever you didn’t complain you got to watch yout ultra ripped boyfriend change. quality time. you thought, when you noticed him mid-change with his shirt over his head, resting on his arms. as any good girlfriend would, despite the devil on your shoulder, you came up behind him placing your hands on his seriously broad shoulders. taking notice of the tension, you started to work at the muscles. your care was quickly rewarded with a quiet sigh, and relaxed shoulders.

“hajime?” you continued rubbing at the tight fibers, “are you alright? you’re usually the one telling me im holding too much tension.” you giggled and he turned to face you placing one hand against the side of your face.

“hajime?” it came out shaky and worried.

“i’m okay,” he smiled “it’s just,” hesitation. he was never one to hesitate.

“i know i have no right to be but seeing oikawa so clingy with you it just, i dont know, it really gets to me i guess? he, just, he gets all the girls, all the attention, and i don’t want to-” you stopped him.

“sweetheart, it’s okay to be jealous or upset i’m not going to be angry, you have a right to your feelings. I understand how you feel, i never mean to flirt with him, if i ever have, i mean i don’t know, you know how bad of a flirt i am,” he chuckles at that. “it’s just that i know how important he is to you and you are so, so important to me and i want to be able to understand whats important to you, so you never have to choose between us, because that wouldn’t be fair. i love you, hajime iwaizumi, and everything about you.”

you expected him to be shocked, hell, he thought he would be shocked when or if you said it, but he wasn’t. and that’s exactly how he knew what to say next.

“i love you too, y/n l/n.” pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

“geez, it only took you two a century and forever.” someone snarked.

hajime chucked a towel at him “get out assykawa!” and he did, he bolted through the door laughing like the demon matchmaker he thought he was.

do not repost, copy, or claim.

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#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu headcanons #iwazuimi #iwaizumi x y/n #hajime iwaizumi #iwa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #hq iwaizumi #hq headcanons #hq anime #hq sakusa #hq fanfic

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 13

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst, NSFW

WC: 2974

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘choking’ square for @spnkinkbingo Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is two weeks ahead on patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Dean carries her over to the bed in the room they are in, with them still connected, making her sit on his lap as he wraps his arms around her body and rests his head on her chest. His fingers stroke up and down her back and she does the same to him. Tiny hands travel up and down his sweaty back, fingers stroking at the short hair on the back of his neck.

He revels in the touch, never realizing that he felt touch-starved all this time.

“How are you feeling?” Dean looks up at her and his heart blooms when he sees her smiling.

Y/N leans down, kisses him and he cranes his neck to reach her better. Her lips are soft and tender. His taste still lingers on the tip of her tongue.

After a while of coming down from their high, he lifts her off his lap and she whines at the loss of his dick inside of her. The wet squelching sound is lewd and loud. Dean pulls her close to kiss her temple but he pushes himself away after some time, leaving her there to pick up their clothes.

He quickly pulls his shirt over his head, gets back into his underwear and pants because he wants to get her into the apartment as soon as possible. Dean walks over to her, tells her to stand up and drapes his jacket over her naked body. He holds out her torn dress and shoes for her, telling her to hold on to it and picks her up into his arms.

Her eyes are almost closing when he makes his way up to his apartment and she nuzzles closer into his chest.

In the apartment, he sits her down onto the couch, making her drink water while he walks into the bathroom and draws a bath for them.

Dean gets her into the tub, making her sit in his lap as he begins to rub and stroke her whole body. He starts to massage the knots out of her shoulders. He’s hard again, but that’s unavoidable in her close vicinity.

He sprays kisses on the nape of her neck and makes a path to her shoulder, “How are you feeling?”

She tilts her face, leans her head against his chest, “Good, I’m very tired,”

Chuckling, he kisses the top of her head before he moves himself away and gets out of the bath and lifts her out too. Dean wraps her up in a towel, sits her on the closed toilet lid and they brush their teeth. He leaves her to finish her night ritual and goes out to look at his phone. The party’s still going on downstairs. He hears the music faintly.

Dean sees Cas’ message, notices that he had sent him a link. When Dean clicks on it, it takes him to a news website where a photographer uploaded the pictures from the party. They’re so quick, it blows Dean's mind. He clicks through pictures, sees a couple of him and Y/N in the background. He smiles, moves his phone to the nightstand and goes back into the bathroom to see if she’s finished.

Y/N applies cream to her face, and she’s watching him through the mirror. She’s still naked and so is he, smirking when she notices his boner.

Dean moves forward, kisses her shoulder, “Come on, let’s go to bed,”

She turns around, nodding, and Dean picks her up, carries her over, slipping into the bed next to her.

He lies awake, listening to her breathing, listening to her heart beat. It’s easy, he thinks, easy to take care of her. He never knew he wanted that. That he wanted to take care of anyone except Sam. He saw sex as a way to release his stress and never cared about what comes after, to be honest, but he likes this. Likes the intimate moments when they recover together. Dean doesn’t lie when he thinks it’s even better than the act itself, and that is totally new to him. It’s not bad. No, he thinks it’s great.

Dean wakes to a vibration sounding loud from the nightstand and he quickly untangles himself from her limbs, rolls away gently so as to not wake her up. He takes a look at the caller ID.

“Cas?” He whispers, tries to keep his voice down.

“Yeah, we have a situation. Meet me at the entrance?”

Dean looks at the clock on his nightstand, sees 4.38am on it and releases a deep sigh, “Yeah, I’ll be right down,”

The mornings are chilly in the city and Dean pulls the zipper of his sweater to the top. It was hard leaving her in his bed. He hopes that she won’t wake up and notice him missing.

Dean walks around the corner to the front and Cas’ already waiting with one of the security guys.

He doesn’t need to ask what’s going on because he sees it, sees the paint along the wall. It’s bright red, almost blinding him. A stark contrast to the grey of the morning.

The red paint is fresh. It’s still dripping down the walls.

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath and tries to not step into a puddle of paint, “When did that happen?”

Cas shrugs, “We don’t know. Must have happened between closing and now,” The dark haired man is still dressed in his tux, “We finished cleaning up inside and when I was on the way home I saw it,”

Between closing and now. That’s a two hour window.

“Have you two looked at the security cams?” He asks into the round.

“The security cams have been tampered with. There’s no footage whatsoever.”

“Fuck,” Dean’s shouting now.

“You think it has something to do with the emails?” Cas asks, a look of concern on his face.

“I don’t know,” Dean says, shaking his head.

Dean really doesn’t know. There have been threatening emails for a year now, but he doesn’t keep track of every one of them. He even knows the source of some of them. Other club owners in the close vicinity who are jealous of Dean’s success but he’s never fallen victim to any kind of damage before. This is totally new and it pisses him off.

“Right, report it to the police, do whatever you have to do, okay? Get someone to clean up. I want it gone by the time we open up again,” Dean turns around, doesn’t wait for an answer.

He’s fucking pissed and punches at the elevator wall when he steps in. He takes a ride back up to his apartment with his eyes closed. Dean knows that he should deal with it but he’s really not in the fucking mood. He’s riding on a fucking high and he won’t let this incident disturb the calm.

Before he gets back into the apartment, he takes a couple of deep breaths, wills his body to stop trembling.

Inside, Dean peels himself from his clothes and slips back into bed, gets under the covers and presses his body to hers for some warmth. He buries his face into the back of her neck and she stirs.

“Shhhh,” Dean hushes, draping an arm around her to weigh her down and hold her still.

It’s not long before he falls asleep again.

Y/N wakes up to Dean snuggling close to her. She feels his warm breath on the back of her neck, feels his heavy arms around her body.

She blinks a couple of times, yawns and rubs at her eyes. Gently, she rolls herself out of his embrace and Dean grunts at the loss of her in his arms. Her body goes rigid and she watches him from her standing position, holding in her breath. She exhales when she sees him burying his face back into the pillow, his lips are slightly parted, snoring a little too.

It’s actually ridiculously cute. He looks so peaceful and soft. She has a hard time tearing her eyes from him.

Taking a couple of steps, she feels that she’s still sore but it’s not as bad as she thought she would be, so at least there’s that.

Oh god, he made her come so many times last night and he was rough with her. To her own surprise, she was totally okay with it, even welcomed the sensation of being at his mercy. This has never happened before in her life. She doesn’t even think she laid so much trust in Cole. Maybe it was because Dean asked several times if it was okay for her, he made sure that she knew that she can say stop anytime, and she believed and trusted him that he would have stopped when it would have been too much for her to handle.

She went into it relaxed. Her body was willing to accept it and didn’t put up a fight, and so her muscles aren’t as sore as she thought they would be.

Inside the bathroom, she takes a look into the mirror, grinning at herself for the first time in years. Usually, she only frowns at her own reflection. Y/N takes her time, washes her face, brushes her teeth and tries to right her hair.

When she sits down to pee, she feels a blob of his cum running out of her and she squints. Her pussy’s wet and it tingles at the thought of what they did. She can’t help it. Dean really does this to her. He’s awakened all the things that she thought she’d never had in her. She was never a sexual person per se, but now she’s got a taste of it and she wants more, which is really bad, isn’t it?

No, she decides. It’s not bad to know what she wants. It’s not bad that the person she wants wants her back. Because he does, doesn’t he? Dean said he cares for her. She likes that. For the first time in her life, someone really does care about her.

Y/N walks out and searches for her phone. She finds it on the kitchen counter where she left it before going down to the party. There are three missed calls. One from her probably future landlord and two from Jody Mills.

Shit.

She was supposed to call the woman back but she forgot in all the haze of the break in, and then there was no time because of the party and ugh.

Y/N wonders why Mrs. Mills didn’t leave a message though, but she can’t dwell on that. She has to call her landlord first, seeing if she is getting the apartment or not.

She got the apartment and is doing a victory dance butt naked in his apartment, but at that moment, she doesn’t really care. Things are really starting to look up for her and she seriously can’t be more happy about it.

Turning and twisting around, she stares right into the Dean’s face, who’s very awake and very much grinning at her, with his tousled hair and the back on his head propped on a pillow. The lower half of his body is covered by the sheets but she can see from here that he must at least be half hard. Her body goes rigid and she stops her dance mid-motion. She looks down, trying to avoid his gaze by staring at her toes.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account,” He says, his voice is gravelly, very deep from sleep.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” She scoffs and turns away, places her phone back on the counter and turns to stroll towards the bed. She’s probably visibly flustered, at least her cheeks feel warm.

Dean chuckles, “No, of course you weren’t.” And then he adds, “But there’s something wrong,”

Her eyebrows rise up her forehead, “What?”

He grins, wide and white. And it’s damn smug too. He looks younger like this. All playful eyes and cocky smile. It reminds her of high school Dean, “You’re dancing over there instead of in my lap,” He pats his lap to emphasize it.

Y/N rolls her eyes and Dean laughs.

“No, seriously,” He says, “What are you so happy about?”

It’s her turn to grin when she’s standing at the foot of the bed. Her hands go to grab at the sheets, pulling them down and she watches as Dean’s cock springs free. It twitches at the feel of cooler air around it.

Dean’s eyes go darker, and the grin on his face disappears when he watches her climb onto the bed, crawling towards him on all fours.

She slots herself in between his thighs, spraying kisses on his skin. Dean bites down on his bottom lip, his hands balled into fists on the side of his body.

Her mouth gets closer to his dick and she sees it twitching visibly. She sticks her tongue out with a grin before the tip of her tongue tickles at his ball sac.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He groans out while she giggles.

Licking at his balls, she takes one of them into her mouth, sucks at it and strokes her tongue against it. He has a hard time controlling himself; his knuckles are turning white, she notices.

“Come on,” He almost whines, “What was that all about, huh?”

Grinning, she licks up his shaft, the tip of her tongue playing with his sensitive string, “I got an okay to move into my new apartment,” She says, still smiling before her lips quickly sealing around the head of his dick. His taste fills her up immediately. It’s salty, kind of bitter but delicious on her tongue.

“Wha— Holy fu—!” Dean groans out audibly. She watches him throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

Y/N bobs her head, hollowing out her cheeks, and takes him in further. She retches and chokes, drool seeps out of the corner of her mouth. She hears him cursing above her.

“Get on it, I want you to ride me,” His voice is hoarse, his hands grabbing at her arm to pull her up.

She sits on him and grinds on his slick dick, her folds parting, rubbing herself up and down his shaft and Dean’s hands find her tits, kneading and twirling his fingers around her erect nipples.

“You’re a fucking tease,” He whispers as one of his hand smacks down on her tit, making her arch her back and grind on his dick harder, “When will you move?”

Why does he have to talk about that now? It blows her fucking mind.

Lifting up her hips, she positions his dick to her entrance and sits down slowly, moaning out as she goes, “Fuck,” She has to close her eyes briefly. His dick always fills her so fucking good.

Dean’s hands are on her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh on the side of her waist when he feels him bottoming out.

“He needs to clean it first. I should be good to go in two days,”

Y/N rests her hand on his chest when she starts to ride him. She grinds down on every downthrust, taking him even deeper and it tickles her cervix. It’s a sharp pain but not necessarily a bad pain. It’s actually more pleasure than anything else, “Oh god, you’re so deep,”

His hands are firm on her hips at first but Dean moves them up, cupping her tits in between, kneads them roughly and spanks down on them once more before he locks his hand around her throat.

“You’re close, ain’t that so? I can feel it, baby,” His voice is low, she feels the bass of it vibrating in his chest that’s underneath the palms of her hands, “Look at me,”

“Uh-huh,” She bites on her lips. She blinks, preventing her eyes from closing to be able to look him in the eye.

Dean’s eyes are dark, and he licks his lips as he watches her coming undone above him. The grip around her throat tightens and there’s not enough air in her lungs. She starts to whimper.

“Keep on riding, baby,” He coos, “Come on my cock. That’s it, keep on going, you’re doing so good,”

She resorts to grinding because riding seems to be too much right now and oh god, his pelvis rubs so good against her clit.

“Fffff—” She bites down on her bottom lip harder, not sure if she draws blood but she tastes copper in her mouth.

“Christ, you feel so fucking good,” Dean whispers, “Good girl, keep going,”

She comes with a shout but there’s nothing coming out of her throat, she feels light headed, her body trembles above him and the only thing keeping her upright are Dean’s hands around her throat.

Dean’s grunting and his arms are shaking as he lets go of her throat, pulling her down to him. She buries her face in the crook of his neck as he bites at the place where her shoulder meets her neck, painting her insides with his cum as he does it.

They stay connected a little longer, with Dean spraying kisses all over her face. Her forehead, her eyes, his hand steadily stroking her back, while he kisses him below his ear and breathes in the scent of him. She loves how he smells.

The silence is deafening and he hasn’t asked more about her move. Dean’s suddenly reserved and she doesn’t know what’s wrong.

After a while Dean stirs underneath her, kisses the top of her head before he whispers, “Come on, let’s take a shower, you have to go to work soon,”

Y/N doesn’t say anything to that. She lets him pull her along and carry her into the shower with him.

Chapter 14

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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xandraspalace · 3 years

Text

Love Letter 2.0

----- Love Letter 2.0 || A Reza Avanluna [NIJISANJI ID] Song Fiction

Summary : Longing led me to him who had separated from me a few years ago. With a letter as the only thing he left me, I hope he can make up for all the lost time. Together with a song and a beautiful guitar tune that brings me to many sweet memories of high school romance with him.

WC : 1772 Words.

Warning : Grammar errors, Mr. Love : Queen’s Choice Reference, SMA! AU (BUT THE VOICE CONTENT, DUMMIES) etc.

Story Notes : This fiction is written in first person POV and gender-neutral as the pronouns, but mostly I used too many feminime words. But please do enjoy this work of mine.

A/N : If you're wondering, why did I put '2.0' in the title. I wrote this song fiction too after Midsummer Nights. So, this is like the second version of the songfic I wrote last summer. Please check it here for the 1.0 and 1.1. THANK YOU AND ENJOY!

SOMEONE once said, “there are no letters that can’t reach the reciever. Because of that, all feelings will definitely be conveyed.”

Final-grade of high school, the time when I fell in love for the first time. Campus romance, they said. Cliché, but that's what really happened. If it weren't for a letter I found under my desk, I probably wouldn't be able to feel that kind of feeling.

Since then, I've always been looking for acoustic guitar tunes that can be heard from all corners of the school building. I always hope that the guitar sounds that the wind sends come from him alone.

His amethys eyes always met mine, but never for long. He would always turn his face and go back to having fun with his friends. He never dared to talk to me unless it was just the two of him.

Escape to a quiet hallway every break and boring classes, enjoy lunch together, sing a lot of songs with the tunes of his beautiful guitar. If only all of that could happen again.

If only I knew how he felt back then, if only I knew that our feelings could be conveyed and reciprocated, I probably wouldn't have bothered with longing and uneasy along with the letter I'd been reading ever since I found it under my desk.

I walked down the hallway of my old school campus with very heavy steps. The evening breeze brings so many memories and whispers it to your ears sweetly.

However, I immediately stopped my steps when an amber light of sunset shone on the figure of a man who was leaning against the wall, staring blankly somewhere.

I couldn't have recognized him wrong. His hair as black as the night sky, majestic pair of amethyst eyes, and a guitar bag that he always carried everywhere. My heart fell into my stomach and butterflies started fluttering there.

I slightly quickened my pace towards the him. "Reza!" my small voice caught his attention. It’s really him.

He turned to me in shock. “[Y/N]?!” I'm sure he also couldn't believe he met me here.

I stopped in front of him. I tried so hard not to cry. "I-it's really you," you whispered. My trembling hand tried to reach his cheek.

In the end, Reza grabbed my shaking hand and put it on his cheek. He smiled sweetly and warmly, but I could also see the sadness in his eyes. "Yeah, it's me. It's been a while, isn't it?”

I could only nod. The words I wanted to say stuck in my throat.

Reza could only smile. He studied my face intently like I was a masterpiece that had been lost for a long time. "We've already met here, should we move to a more comfortable place to talk?" he asked.

I quickly grabbed the sleeve of his denim jacket and shook my head, rejecting his suggestion. “How about we talk here? We always run away during boring classes here, right?”

Agreeing to my suggestion, Reza nodded. "Right!" he replied, taking me to a nearby bench.

As soon as he sat himself down, he took out an acoustic guitar from its bag. Memories of high school are like repeating itself. "Is there songs you want to play?"

"I wonder if you still remember this tune." Reza started playing a song with his guitar. He could probably see that I was surprised because he was chuckling in the middle of his performace.

That was our most familiar tune. I listen to it too often because Reza said he would compose a song. No matter how many years have passed, I can still remember that tune. "Oh, that tune! Have you finished the song? It's been years."

“Actually I've finished it since I finished my SAT test. I'm not sure if you want to hear the lyrics or not,” he paused for a moment. I could see the slight tint on his cheeks.

"Of course I want to hear it!" I tried to convince him. "You spent almost eighty percent of our lunch break to finish this song."

Reza chuckled. “Sure, listen carefully.”

As the guitar played, many scenes flashed through my mind. The scene where Reza and I met in 11th grade and reunited the following year, the scene where I had to force him to eat every lunch break because he was too focused on his guitar, and many more. All those countless, memorable moments were all spent together with him.

I looked at Reza when his hand stopped in the middle of the song. "Reza?" I was confused.

"Sorry," he mumbled, smiling apologetically. Reza looks nervous. But after that, he took a deep breath, playing the next tune. “I'll never know where to start, bit—by—bit or part—by—part.”

I widened my eyes, realizing the familiarity of every word in the lyrics. I had to hold back my curiosity. At least, until the song that Reza sang was finished.

“Only thing I know is that I can’t stand you apart from me. I told you I tried to write, the words, they hide. And the only thing in my mind is how to keep you by my side.”

I could hear a warmth in every lyric he sings. A faint smile touched his lips and you didn't know what sight could be more beautiful than that. At the same time, many beautiful memories replayed in your mind, just like in the lyrics.

“Your smile, it shines. That small glitters in your eyes. The way you sing my songs. The way you notice all my lies. All stupid jokes that come out, all smug with your lips curled up. How you listen to all the weird things that left my mouth.”

I kept listening, but my feet kept pounding the floor in impatience.

“届けたい気持ちを. 手紙に書いてみるよ.” Reza ended the song and sighed. But for a moment, Reza was silent. He hid a smile under his denim sleeve.

[ A/N : “The feeling I want to convey, I'll try to write it in a letter.” ]

I took something out of my bag. "Reza," I called his name sweetly.

Reza looked up only to find me holding something he didn’t expect. "[Y/N], t-that's..." I clutched a pale pink envelope tightly to my chest. Nothing changed from the look of the letter except for the seal that had been opened. "But that was many years ago," Reza looked surprised.

Yes, all the lyrics I listened to in the song were what was written in the letter that someone—let’s call him Reza—leaved under my desk. I smiled brightly at him. “It seems like we really missed out a lot of things this past few years,” I chuckled.

Hearing my voice, Reza froze in place.

“Remember when I used to cheering you on in every single performance of the school concerts, telling everyone that you are Reza Avanluna, the best guitarist from our class? Whatever lunch I brought, you would always buy dessert from the canteen for me. You’ll always wait for me to finish my course until late and we’ll always go home together. But after entering university, we both moved and separated. I don't know where you are or if you still feel the same for me. But—” I stopped, trying not to choke on my own words. "But I really, really miss you."

All details of those memories kept repeating themselves, playing with my mind. At that time I was still confused about what kind of feelings I felt. The feeling was overwhelming and made me uncomfortable, but it wasn't a bad feeling and I loved it.

I clenched my hands, trying to show him that I was mad at him. "It's all your fault, Reza!" I accused him. “At least tell me where you're going and when you'll be back! We totally lost contact like it was nothing and I regreted it so much!” I rubbed my face in frustration. I don’t even want to cry. I'm not a high school student who can just cry in front of their crush.

I couldn't see his expression, but I could tell he was fell silent and thinking about something serious. “[Y/N], look at me, please,” he pleaded, trying to pull my hand from my face. His scent overwhelmed my sense.

Reza pulled me close by my wrist. He brought his lips close to my ear. “Only thing I know is that I can't stand you apart from me. I told you I tried to write, the words, they hide. And the only thing in my mind is how to keep you by my side.” Reza whispered and repeated the lyrics in a very husky voice. "I believe that's what I wrote on that letter?"

Reza pulled himself up. He patted the top of my head and smiled warmly. “I put the letter under your desk a few days before the Final Year Exam. I know we have our own university of choice and since then I've been thinking about how I can contact you again. Unfortunately, no good ideas came out and that made me decide to visit this campus more often, hoping that one day I can meet you like today,” he explained with a really sweet smile.

“You have no idea how happy I was when I found out you still had my letter. Don't you know I had a hard time writing the letter because my hands kept shaking?! My heart keeps pounding for no good reason as I write it. I felt like an idiot back then,” he embarrased, I know.

He looked at me gently. “Now you are here, can I repay you for all out lost time this past years?” he asked me with sincere and gentleness in his voice.

That's when I realized it. This man in front of me was tormented even before he confessed his feelings to me through this letter. He held back all his feelings until he could say those words at the right time to me, proving that he was more worthy of me than before.

No matter how many years passed, he only had singular heart and it was only for one person.

“Yes, we missed out on a lot. But at that time, I wouldn't have been able to hang on to you for good. But now, I can hang on to you. So your answer?” a focy smile painted accross his lips.

I smiled and nodded, agreeing to his request. “Everything mine is yours, Reza. And the part that we missed out on too, it's all yours." ----- [FIN]

Love Letter 2.0 A Fiction by Author Xandra October, 2021

#nijisanji #nijisanji id #Reza Avanluna

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