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medic-simp · 1 year

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𝑀𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝑀𝑒 -- Silco Smut

Silco x Fem!Reader Year of the OTP Event; March Prompt “Make me”

Rating: Mature || WC: 1260 Content Warnings: Sexting, nudes, reader’s tatas are out!

Context: Silco is in a meeting that seems like it may never end. Just when he thinks he's about to strangle Finn to death, his phone nearly blows up with rapid fire texts, all from you. Dare he open the images you sent?

@yearoftheotpevent

Cover made with Canva.

“Finn, I think someone of your intelligence quotient is in every aspect incapable of running an empire with any degree of stability, order, or disciplined followers.”

Silco’s voice cuts clear through the chembaron hall, dripping with annoyance and impatience. The meeting had dragged on with boring and fruitless reports from Smeech about his ends of the city, complaints from Chross about how much better commerce was a decade ago, and many other energy-draining topics. Silco’s resulting foul mood was leaving no room for argument, but of course Finn would resist anyhow.

“At least I keep my people under control.” Finn’s metal jaw shines as he rolls his head back, slouching against the hard frame of the chair. Improper brat.

“And of what use are any of your ‘controlled people’?” Silco asks, resisting the urge to arch his brow in question, to give Finn the satisfaction of a real argument.

Finn grumbles, bringing his head up and leaning his elbows onto the table. “I’m not a wrinkled shrew like you, old man. I have the will, the determination to do something better with my power than play lapdog for topside.”

Bz-zt! Bz-zt!

Silco’s phone hums from his back pocket, throwing him out of his rhythm for a moment. He pauses, eyes narrowing in wonder at who could be texting him. His shoulders roll forward and he continues.

“Yes, your determination,” he muses. “If only you put it into doing your job rather than scrambling for power.”

Finn twitches but Silco pays him no mind, his phone out of his pocket and turned face up in his hand. The notification center scrolls to the text messages he received.

2 images sent. 1 message sent.

And that’s your contact. Don’t you know he’s in a meeting? He told you where he was going before he left.

Silco looks down his nose and over the edge of his phone as he unlocks the device, watching Finn clench his teeth. So vain; his metal jaw giving away every movement of his face, light gliding across the silver plating as he grinds his teeth.

That’s right, seethe, boy. Silco smirks behind his screen, eyes falling to the messages app. Look how unimportant you are, look where my priorities lie.

Silco swallows the growl that crawls up his throat, his ogling glare raking slowly across his screen. Two photos of you, topless, breasts perfectly framed by your arms. The first photo is just a close-up, the valley of your chest taking up nearly the entirety of the picture. The second is zoomed out more, starring you in the red and black lingerie set he gifted a few months prior. You are sitting in his office chair, legs crossed one over the other and your hand in your lap with an unlit cigar. Draped over your shoulders and covering your arms is his coat. The one he left at the office, having deemed the weather too warm to wear it himself…

In his tight-collared maroon shirt, a wave of heat slithers down Silco’s body, blood rushing from one head to another looking at his pretty girl sitting at his desk with his coat and the lingerie he purchased. Janna, that’s good…

Just under the pictures is a message from you.

Awfully long meeting. Thought I’d keep you company ;)

Silco sends a quick text back.

Stop.

A typing bubble appears and Silco sets his phone down on the table, face up, to see what you tell him next.

“Something wrong, Silco?” Finn asks, spitting out the kingpin's name like poison. Silco pays it no mind, giving an idle shrug.

Bz-zt!

From you: Make me.

Silco frowns, almost feeling his blood pressure spike in his veins. “Your interference with things that don’t concern you is certainly one thing,” he quips, clicking his phone off and securing it once again in his back pocket. A quick turn on his heel and he’s walking out of the assembly hall, the door booming closed behind him.

Silco finds Sevika waiting at the elevator but he hardly waits for her once they reach the ground floor, slender legs carrying him straight to the Last Drop.

It’s about a 10 minute walk back to the club but it goes by in less than half that time as Silco powers through the crowds with practiced turns and dodges.

He’s tempted to take another glance at those pictures you sent him; they’re engraved in his mind, but not deep enough. Although your breasts are absolutely wonderful, he wants the small details. He wants to memorize the way your hair falls just into the frame of the picture, how the lace of the lingerie casts a shadow on your skin, the way your fingers curl so naturally around his cigar.

It’s not long before Silco is climbing the stairs of the bar and practically gliding past the balcony onward to the office.

His hand latches onto the knob and he’s pushing through the door, a keen smile beginning to grace his thin lips.

There you are, hardly a muscle moved since those pictures you sent him. Still wearing his coat, still wearing that red and black lingerie set, still so elegantly handling that cigar. In your other hand is a paper from his desk, likely a contract request, shipment files, an economic report, or perhaps a death threat.

You shift, legs uncrossing and the paper in your hand falling gently to the desk. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon, I guess you really want to make me stop, mm?”

A shiver runs over Silco’s arms at the sound of your voice; a low hum, dripping with lust. He ignores the comment.

“I see donning my coat has you taking over my job,” Silco mutters, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The thump of his boots on the carpeted floor fills the silence before his hands come to hold him up against the desk.

“Despite your honorable photography skills, I can't let you get away with sending me such lewd material during a meeting,” Silco grumbles, pinching your jaw between three fingers. “I thought you were going to be a good girl for me.”

Your mouth falls slightly open and Silco treasures the sight, curious as to what your reaction would be to him oh-so-slowly parting your lips with his thumb.

“I would have rewarded you for being patient, for waiting until I got back when I planned to be back.”

Silco's grip on your chin tightens and he watches as you gradually shrink under him, the power you originally had wearing his coat draining before his very eyes. Precious thing.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper meekly, shoulders falling out of posture. Silco hums and settles on the desk.

“I’m afraid ‘sorry’ won’t cut it, princess.” His voice drops to a whisper as he leans into you, blade-like nose a scant inch from yours.

“Out of the chair,” he instructs, waiting patiently for you to drag yourself and your anticipation up so he could take back his throne. Silco pats his leg. “Over my knee.” And Janna he doesn't waste a second devouring the realization that sets over your face, the widening of your eyes, the crease in your brow. Now you know what you're in for.

Silco holds back a sick grin, hand patting his leg again.

But then something changes; you recover yourself, your eyes narrow, you break into a mischievous smile, and Silco all but braces himself for the words he knows you won't be able to resist saying.

“Make me.”

#arcane #silco #silco smut #Smut #silco fanfic #silco / reader #year of the otp #yearoftheotp

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clovercoin · 9 days

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CloverCoin Artpack 2024 March + Updates

[PATREON POST + ART PACK] Hey everyone... I see March is rounding the corner to being over and I realized I never actually make an official patreon post yet. A lot has been happening on our end / IRL. We recently found our we might need to move this summer... But thanks to a lot of back and forth between us and the new landlord we got a lease extension for 1 year to prepare our savings and safely move out to another place in town or around this town we are currently living in. After a lot of discussion between my husband and I, we're really struggling to find rental single family homes that fit our disability needs AND budget. Rent bubble in our area is about 70% more than our current rent which... is mind blowing. But we are determined! With further discussion we think we agree, we'd like to buy a house to make sure our needs are met and that we can take care of our senior dogs without having our lives uprooted without notice. So our belts are going to be really tight over the next year while we try to scrimp and save every penny to go towards our goal to purchase a house next year. That is scary but also so exciting! Wish us luck, we're going to need every lick of it to pull this off. ~~~ Other worse news... The reason why I've been struggling these past few weeks. My family has been reaching out to me and it's official. My mother has a terminal cancer diagnosis. I do not live near her, so I would like to budget a trip out to see her at some point this summer. We don't have any real time lines yet until we see how to reacts to chemo treatment. She's just started that this month. So that's been a weird tangle of emotions and talking with my siblings about what we expect out of all this. How we each can help in what ways we can. One of my older sisters is taking control of talking with the doctors and updating us since my mother is extremely avoidant about talking about her illnesses. At this time I won't be taking any time off from working and doing adopts/commissions. We need the money more than ever, even just to go fly or drive up to see her. But I will update on patreon/discord when I'm taking a week or so off to visit her. ~~~ More middling news? Our two senior dogs, Ollie and Junior, have been having little health scares this year. Feels like 2024 just started and so much has happened! Ollie has been diagnosed with a heart murmur and is on medication now to help treat it. Diet and life style changes as well to help him stay fit. Junior may have had a small seizure or stroke, for 2 days he was not able to stand or walk which really scared us. Both have been to the vet multiple times this year and are being watched VERY closely. I just hope nothing happens to them before we find them a new house to live in. (knocks on wood) ~~~ I myself am having some medical issues but... Just with everything going on I just haven't had time to assign myself with a new clinic and new gp. My new health insurance won't let me see the old one anymore and it's EXTREMELY disruptive to my whole life. So there's a chance my body might get a flat tire in the future, but I'll try to manage it accordingly. To end it all on a good note, I did finally finish my very last tooth filling / replacement and after a year and a half of constant dentist visits, my mouth is all fixed! Hooray!!!! Now we just have to tackle my jaw and TMJ problems haha. ~~~ I think... that's the big items of what's going on. Why I've been really absent online and for updates. Life just kinda had a weird downpour on us, but we're sorting it out. We signed a new lease. Prov is working very hard at his new job. The future is really scary for me right now and I'm really struggling. Please be patient with me while we go through these big life changes at this time. I'll be opening up new commission slots soon to start a monthly income to help with house savings. If anyone has pending commissions with me or trades, please never hesitate to DM me/poke me for updates. I've been a lot more disorganized more than usual lately and I am happy to give any updates or refunds as needed should anything come up that I can't handle. Sorry bout the long read everyone, but thank you so much for skimming through and keeping up with what's going on in my life. I've been desperately missing art more and more every day I spend away from it, so I look forward to sharing even more art with you all! Thank yo everyone for all your support! AJD . ART

#CloverCoin #patreon #patron #update #updates #artpack #artpacks

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renee-writer · 9 months

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What If It Were Brian Chapter 31

AO3

Stepping off the ship, onto dry and stable land, is a relief. They are in America! They are free!

Fergus, who grew a foot or more over the last six months, lifts Brian off and places him on the sand. He then goes to help Murtagh and his papa with their luggage.

“Mama, will we be living here?” he is spinning around in the sand making her laugh even as he makes her dizzy.

“Brian please, you are making mama dizzy,” He stops and falls onto the sand. “and yourself apparently. No, we won’t be living here. Your papa has purchased land in North Carolina. We will stay her in Savannah a night or two while we get ready to move. Give us time to get our land legs back.”

“Mama, I dreamed last night about father. I dreamed he was dead.”

It has been a long time since Brian has mentioned Frank. Claire kneels down by him, supporting the weight of her coming child with one hand “I’m sorry Brian. That must have upset you.”

Her son, who took has grown taller, his curls longer ( she will need to trim them out of his eyes), looks up at her with a thoughtful expression. “It should but if didn’t. I felt ah, calm by it. He can’t hurt no one else if he is dead.”

“True. You know he can’t hurt you ever again? We are safe here?”

“Aye mama. I know. But there are others around him.” He stands when he sees his brother. Running to him, he accidentally kicks sand up in his mama’s face.

“Bloody hell!” She grumbles. Jamie is there, helping her stand.

“Aye you alright Sassanach?”

She wipes the sand off. “Yes. Brian just got excited. He has a dream about Frank.” She tells him as they walk back towards the others, “that he died.”

“Good. I pray he is dead, the bastard.”

She does to, deep inside. To express such aloud isn’t ladylike but, to hell with it. They are in a whole new land, full of possibilities. She can be who she is here. “Me too. Brian, I thought he would be upset by it. He wasn’t. He was relieved at the idea.”

“Can you blame him after what that unholy bastard put him through?”

“No.” the voices of the others are reaching them, “I can’t. Here, in this new place, I pray he can fully heal.”

“I pray you both can.” He pats her hand before releasing her to join his sons and Godfather. They are loading a newly purchased wagon.

After a few days rest, they head to the land that will be called, Fraser’s Ridge. It will require a lot of work. Land to clear. A house and surgery to build. Jamie knows shelter is the first thing needed. He, his sons, and Murtagh will be starting on that as soon as they arrive.

The child Claire carries wasn’t planned. When he was making plans for the ridge, he didn’t expect to be in a race to get up a shelter before he had a newly born child to see to. Not, he tells God in his heart, that he isn’t thankful. The idea of the child has him filled with a fierce sense of protection and a light feeling of incredible joy. As fragile as a bubble with steel in his gut, it is the most interesting feeling.

Claire is worried about some of the same things. They will likely be alone out there. She will have to train Jamie to deliver the baby or do it herself. There has been talk between them about her and Brian staying in Savannah until they had a house built.

“I understand the offer but no, Jamie. We have been away from you long enough.”

He was relieved , he told her later, but thought it the right thing to do, to offer.

So, come what may, that are together in this. As it should be.

As the men build, she wonders about the land, collecting herbs and fungi, for both medicine and for food. Jamie and Murtagh keep them in fresh meats by hunting. Fergus adds to it by fishing, a skill he is teaching Brian. Claire knows that they need more then meat therefore the daily foraging.

As the leaves change, a house is raising up. It is a grand thing as Claire draws closer to delivering her child. Her foraging draws closer to where the men are working.

She bends down to pick some mushrooms and feels something give way. Her waters have let go. It is time.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #what if it were brian #chapter 31 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom

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gatekeeper-watchman · 1 year

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Our Nation, Economically, Where Are We?

Let call a spade a spade. Let’s tell it like it is, beginning with where we are now.

Currently, our nation is coming out of one of the deepest recessions in which we have ever been since the Great Depression in the 1930’s. In fact, it would have been a depression deeper than the depression then if it were not for our having certain safety nets in place this time, i.e. unemployment insurance, Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid, and public welfare, all programs inaugurated by the administrations of Franklin Delano Roosevelt during the Great Depression, and Lyndon Baines Johnson with his Great Society program(s) in the 1960’s—all fought vigorously against by those on the “right”, the Republicans. I don’t want to even think about what our nation would be like right now if these programs hadn't been in place. Also, not unlike the Great Depression, we aren’t coming out of this quickly. It will take time.

Even these safety nets may not have been enough if it were not for the trillion dollar plus bailouts of the financial markets and certain selected corporations in order to offset the effects of the collapse sustained by the financial markets, a direct result of their gambling in certain financial securities, i.e. derivatives in the form of credit default swaps, which motivated an immense build-up (“bubble”) and consequential collapse of real estate prices in the housing and commercial real estate markets. Also, all of this financial relief was further aided by actions of the Federal Reserve with their Quantitative Easing programs (QE1, QE2, etc.) by which they further charged the economy with cash money, trillions of dollars, through their purchase of government bonds, i.e. they printed money “Fed Style”. Even now, it remains questionable if we've done enough—all the arguments notwithstanding.

Our government tells us that we have come out of this recession and are on the road to recovery. Perhaps we have, officially at least. In the United States, the Business Cycle Dating Committee of the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER) defines an economic recession as a significant decline in economic activity spread across the economy lasting more than a few months, normally visible in real Gross Domestic Product (GDP), real income, employment, industrial production, and wholesale-retail sales. So our economy, according to the above definition(s), has been increasing for “over three months in a row”. Therefore, the recession is officially over. We are on our way. But, are we really?

Let me call your attention to a few other factors buried in the detail—worms unseen in the woodwork that don’t quite fit into the pretty picture our politicians would like us to see—the picture which they see, ostensibly out of touch with us and reality. Business was laying off people for years before the financial crisis in 2008—layoffs due to union busting, globalization, increasing technology, increases in efficiency, productivity, and another factor, increasing CEO salaries partially financed by reductions in the workforce as well as on the backs of stockholders.

In conjunction with and in addition to the layoffs, our middle and lower classes (that’s you and me), on average, haven’t had, after adjusting for inflation, an increase in income for over a quarter century, the immense inflation during that time notwithstanding. The rich among us are becoming vastly richer, the poor are becoming poorer, and our middleclass is disappearing. In addition, our politicians, i.e. pseudo leaders, have completely immersed themselves into arguing and bickering, playing games over politics, with real issues, the business of the nation, completely neglected and at a standstill. As you might expect, worry, unrest, crime (its decreasing rate notwithstanding), and discontent among our people is rampant. The sale of firearms and ammunition in our country has increased significantly, and the establishment of internment facilities and massive purchases of ammunition by our government’s Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), an agency of the United States Department of Homeland Security has also been reported (Ref: infowars.com).

When the “crash” occurred in 2008, layoffs reached levels approaching 1,000,000 workers a week, forcing real total unemployment to the critical level, at which we find it today. The current published rate of unemployment notwithstanding, which reflects only those receiving benefits and still seeking employment, it does not reflect those who have become discouraged from looking and just given up or the underemployed. Also, it does not reflect those in the original lay-offs who, to this day, many still haven’t found jobs, their old jobs (if filled at all) having been filled by younger workers coming new into the market. We have over twenty million people presently out of work or underemployed; and, in spite of the fact that the economy has begun to turn around, many of these people are in danger of melding into the woodwork, to be forgotten and never again to find a real job as long as they live. Why? And the answer is, and I think I am right when I say this, as a whole, most of those within this group were among the first to be laid off. Being first, they were the most vulnerable, i.e., least desirable, lower skilled, least productive, older, perhaps overweight, i.e. too fat, lacking people skills, unattractive, i.e. not pretty, whatever. Making matters worse, as technology replaces jobs, the new jobs created in the process require higher skill levels, personal as well as technical, most of this group cannot fill. There are so many more currently unemployed than there are available jobs, that the slightest discrepancy in an applicant’s credentials can be cause for rejection. In addition, there is a continuing influx of new job applicants (mentioned above) into the market with whom they must compete. The story goes on, but you get the picture; and, the longer they are unemployed, the more unemployable they become. I digress, but people who fall into this category constitute a major reason why we should not raise age requirements on Social Security, Healthcare, or retirement. To do so at this time is unconscionable and immoral with defacto hiring ages and policies at present levels. I submit that no matter why these people are unemployed, they are God’s creation and they live in our country. They have a right to live. They have a right to food, clothing, shelter, healthcare, and so on, and we have an obligation to help them. They don’t deserve to be forgotten. It’s just not right.

With over twenty million of our people out of work or underemployed, jobs (and money) flowing profusely from our country to nations around the globe, and our Corporatocracy taking advantage of what, in many instances is tantamount to slave labor, hundreds of thousands, if not millions of our people are going to bed at night hungry, unable to make ends meet, their homes in foreclosure, and many others sleeping in cars and, homeless. Even more are on some form of welfare or another–our welfare rolls (state of dependency) have literally exploded. Accordingly, the standard of living of our people and our economy as a whole is in decline, a trend I anticipate will continue for the foreseeable future.

Economically, as the rich among us become increasingly rich, our middle-class is disappearing and our under-class is expanding. Wages and income (in real terms) is decreasing, and the preponderance of our people is in debt up to their ears (personal as well as national debt), the effect of which is exacerbated by the false economy generated in the course of our massive excess spending over the years which created that debt in the first place. We were living “over our heads”, disillusioned, and the adjustment, our comedown, is painful and continuing.

Wait! There’s something else. There are more heavy storm clouds hanging over our heads—all that printed money out there. Our dollar is the reserve currency of the world and it is under attack from many sides. In addition to trillions of inflated dollars, it is reported that there are over $700 Trillion Dollars, nominal value, of Derivatives in circulation worldwide. You remember. Those are the financial securities, i.e. the credit default swaps that our lottery players on Wall Street used to cause our 2008 financial crisis. Think of this in terms of worldwide GWP (Gross World Product) and US GDP (Gross Domestic Product) in 2012. In 2012, the GWP totaled (in terms of U.S. dollars) approximately $84.97 Trillion. That’s for the whole planet, mind you. Compare that with $700 Trillion, nominal value, of derivatives outstanding. Compare our present $18 Trillion U.S. National Debt with our GDP of $71.83 Trillion for 2012. Just think about it. That just about makes us broke or close to it, doesn’t it?

Can you not see where our shadow government by the Corporatocracy and Power Elite has led us? Not only have they stolen our democracy, but also, they have led us to the very edge of bankruptcy. Capitalism has provided us a high standard of living over many years. We certainly need it and don’t want to lose it. It is also, however, out of control and running amuck. In its stark greed, it is consuming itself and leading us to catastrophe, just as Socialism has led others before. In and of themselves, both economic systems are flawed; but, as in most everything, there is good and bad in both. I submit to you, we the people should avail ourselves of the best and most favorable aspects of both. There is a middle ground that is best for all of us, and that’s NOT Socialism. It’s just plain common sense. Some markets should be free and some should be collective, depending upon the market. Which approach we use should be that which is best for the people and our nation as a whole. Strictly regulated programs such as Social Security, Public Access to Universal Single Payer Healthcare, reasonable Public Welfare, and Public Utilities (including communications) are best suited collective (Do you really believe the average citizen can make objective and intelligent purchasing decisions in these areas?) When we use these programs, it’s not exactly like going to the supermarket. Always, with either choice, the final decision should be in the hands of and decided by the people through their elected representatives—not the Corporatocracy. Our Corporatocracy should not be allowed to have an influence, in spite of what His Excellency, SCOTUS, says. It should be returned to the status where it belongs, a servant of their customers, i.e. the people. Their focus should be on service and production. Profit must be where it should be, too. Its focus should be that of the investors, the renters, i.e. the landlords. It’s a subtle difference but, nevertheless, critical if our Democratic Republic, our democracy, is to survive.

I will close this for today, but I want to say one last thing. It may seem, or even be, out of context with this posting at this time, but I think it is very important to our thought processing, economically. That is, unless you have a way to contain it, money is like water. It always seeks its own level. Think about it when you think about globalization and outsourcing of labor. Think deeply or are you capable of doing so?

From: Elder Steven P. Miller Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA. https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gatekeeper-watchman https://www.facebook.com/ParkermillerQ/ Twitter: @GatekeeperWatchman1, @ParkermillerQ, @StevenPMiller6; #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981

Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956 URL: linkedin.com/in/steven-miller-b1ab21259

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gatekeeperwatchman · 1 year

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Our Nation, Economically, Where Are We?

Let call a spade a spade. Let’s tell it like it is, beginning with where we are now.

From: Steven P. Miller

Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA. Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956, Twitter: @GatekeeperWatchman1, @ParkermillerQ, Parker Miller Stevens (Gatekeeper1) …@StevenPMiller6 Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gatekeeperwatchman URL: linkedin.com/in/steven-miller-b1ab21259 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElderStevenMiller

GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981

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106days · 2 years

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A lot of Thursday was spent on the road, as we headed back to Amman from Aqaba. Much of the drive was along the Dead Sea, which was stunning. The water looks inviting but much of the coast is coated in salt deposits which look to bubble away as the water gently laps against them.

Back in Amman, Talal had his son pick us up and take us to a post office downtown, as it was Thursday afternoon (the last day of the week) and I was yet to purchase stamps. Post offices in Jordan generally close by 3pm, but there was one still open. He really went above and beyond what was necessary and I felt very sorry for his kid, having to chaperone us around, but that's Jordanian hospitality for you.

Went to Rainbow Street after and met up with a few of the guys from the tour. Had a coffee and a cookie. The cafe we went to had a little donation box for a cat charity, and little zip lock bags of dry food, to feed Amman's street cats. So... you know I bought some.

Decided to walk the whole way back to the hotel from Rainbow Street. I may have mentioned before but Amman is not an especially pedestrian friendly city. There were definitely times the footpath just disappeared and I had to walk on the road, or google maps tried to send me up overpasses without anywhere to walk. But, on the way, I saw a couple of interesting buildings - like the chamber of industry, which had a colourful, modernist facade, and the Iraqi embassy, which had a beautifully decorated gate.

Dinner on our last night was a banquet. The feast of salads, dips, bread, olives, pickles, and various kinds of mains - I had what they called moussaka, but was really like eggplant, potato, and carrot, stewed in tomato and served with rice. It was all so good. I adore that the Middle East has such a great appreciation for the humble eggplant. The restaurant was huge, and clearly popular with local families. I massively hit a wall with food - I actually can't remember the last time I was hungry. Being on a tour where breakfast is always included and the tour guide is constantly trying to feed you... I need a break!!!

The last photo is the man himself, Talal. Knowledgeable, kind, hilarious - he's a great ambassador for Jordan and its people. Incidentally, there was a king named Talal, I think in the 50s? But he reigned for only 11 months... We got all the goss on the royal family from Talal one day on the bus!

#travel #jordan #amman

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 2 years

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dad! wonwoo being obsessed with your body after you have your first child,, he’d spend so much time touching all over you spending so much time on your boobs,, ugh plzzzz

He'd be literally glued to you ever since you gave birth to your babyboy, mostly because he's worried about you. After a few months, he'd still be close to you, but not in a completely innocent way.

You'd come out of the shower, a fresh towel wrapped around your body, as you walk into the bedroom. You approach your boudoir, searching for your favorite body cream, feeling a bit fancy tonight. You open the lid and take a whiff from the coconut-scented jar, a satisfied hum bubbling in your chest.

"How's my pretty lady doing?", Wonwoo stands on the frame of the door, watching you with a lop-sided smile. "Your pretty lady was about to start the beauty time she hadn't done in a long time", you chuckle, "It's the perfect chance now that Joshua volunteered to be our babysitter for this weekend", you add and he comes closer to you.

"Then we should make the best out of it, right?", he kneels in front of you, "It's been a while since we had some time to ourselves". "What are you insinuating here, sir Jeon?", you look at him with a teasing gaze and he blinks once, a fake pout resting on his lips. "Nothing... I just wanted to take care of you tonight, Mrs Jeon", he replies with a deep chuckle and takes the body cream jar out of your hands.

"May I?", he asks you and you give him your leg but he stops you. "Not just your legs, sweetheart. I need you to take off your towel", he bites back a smirk and you raise an eyebrow but unwrap your towel nevertheless.

Wonwoo sucks a sharp breath through his teeth at the sight of your naked body, his eyes raking every single sliver of your flesh, changed thanks to motherhood. He takes some of the cream on his fingers and starts massaging on your skin, lowly humming as his fingertips glide over your thighs.

"That feels so good, Won", you moan lowly, relishing in the feeling of his hands on your body. "You know, Y/N... I've always loved how your body feels in my hands", he trails off, picking more of the cream and spreading it over your sides and your tummy.

"But ever since you became a mommy, you're absolutely glowing, sweetheart", he nearly moans and presses a kiss on your hipbone. "W-Wonwoo...", you breathe out and his hands travel up to your torso, cupping your breasts. He rises from the floor and traps your body with his, his face hovering over yours.

"You should see yourself, sweetheart... Your skin is so soft and glowy, your cheeks and lips so plump...", he mutters, lips ghosting your face, lowering to your neck. He goes even lower, his mouth now right on top of your breasts.

"But, fuck, your breasts are driving me absolutely insane, sweetheart", he adds and wraps his lips around your nipple, softly sucking it. Little gasps and moans are leaving your mouth, your hands finding purchase in his hair and his muscular back, letting yourself get lost in his touch.

His hands are massaging the flesh of your breasts, his expert fingers circling your hardened buds, his tongue teasing them simultaneously. "Oh God, Wonwoo!", you whine, your body burning with arousal, wetness starting to slip out of your hole. Your hands are fisting the material of his shirt and you hope he'll get the hint.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart and I'll give it to you", Wonwoo whispers against your skin, hands travelling to your inner thighs, slowly parting them open. "Fuck, I need you inside me, Wonwoo, please!", you whine desperately and he flashes a sultry smirk, taking off his shirt and his sweats. He teases you a bit more by slipping off his boxers painstakingly slowly. You stretch your legs on his chest and he laughs lowly, kissing your ankles and finally removes his boxers, his hard cock hitting his lower stomach.

"Your wish is my command, my pretty lady".

#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo smut #svt wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen #answered✨

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ushidoux · 3 years

Text

Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match. (~5.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex

A/N: Part of @cherrytenko’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!

---

It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.

It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day -

A date.

“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.

“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly.

Sure, never any obligations.

As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.

You hate this.

This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale - not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.

In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.

Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.

There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.

There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself.

You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.

The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.

You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.

The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.

“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall.

He’s not here.

You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.

You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit.

The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room.

Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense?

You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.

For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you.

“My apologies, Ms. ___.”

You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry.

You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.

“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”

He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle.

Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.

Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.

“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.

You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”

“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool.

Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.

“Please order anything you like.”

You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.

Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior.

Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts.

But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think.

When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.

You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.

“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.

“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.

Maybe you’re the one staring.

“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down.

You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.

Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.

But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.

“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.

His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.

You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?

You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.

“What do you do outside of work?”

His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.

“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”

A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.

Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.

“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”

You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.

“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”

It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.

Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?

He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”

You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.

---

“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”

You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you.

Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?

The heat that fills your whole body now isn’t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips.

When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.

So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.

---

You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.

“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.

You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.

---

“Miss ____?”

Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.

“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.

“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf.

You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.

“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.

---

“Was the sex at least good?”

Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.

You begrudgingly say yes.

“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.

“He’s missing out, though.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.

---

Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.

Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.

You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.

A curt email from a crucial business partner read,

We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.

Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?

Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.

“What happened?”

“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”

This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.

Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call.

“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click.

Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.

The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.

How embarrassing.

You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.

It turns out he did.

“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”

His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.

“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”

There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”

“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”

He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”

You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.

“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”

Finally the lightbulb went on.

“Oh, that was you. Hm.”

If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.

“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”

“Excuse me?”

That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call.

“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”

“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”

Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?

“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh.

---

The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.

There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.

I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.

Respectfully,

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.

Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying.

You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.

---

It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.

Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.

Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.

After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor.

And snatching your dignity in the process.

It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well.

“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.

“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”

She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.

You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.

“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”

He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new.

You hate that he looks good.

“Apologizing and requesting your company.”

He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.

“Please leave.”

He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you.

“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”

“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.

“I… got busy.”

“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.

“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”

You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Why would you think that?”

His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him.

“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”

Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.

“So…?”

“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”

You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?

His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.

“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.

“I’m bad at starting conversations.”

You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.

“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”

You purse your lips.

“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.

You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”

He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.

“No. I just like you.”

Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.

You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.

Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.

“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”

---

A couple months later...

“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.

“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.

There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.

This isn’t a good look.

“I-I can’t…” you whine.

“You can,” he assures you.

He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.

Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.

“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.

He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either.

When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him.

Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.

“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.

He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ceo!ushijima x reader #ceo collab #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima smut #haikyuu smut #not sfw #fic: power struggle #mae.writing #hqintheclub

850 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 3 years

Text

Flower | Drabble 4

; Word Count: 1.3k

; A/N: Just a random drabble I thought up, aimless fluff to give you guys a glimpse into the Flower couple a few years down the line 😀

"How does someone that hot end up working in IT?" Clarissa asked, her voice a mixture of incredulity and wistfulness. There's a snort of laughter from next to her as Jihyo giggles whilst Chaeyoung tuts her disapproval.

"Don't be mean, there's plenty of hot guys who work in IT. Besides, it's not like management is swimming in Calvin Klein models." She says, fingers tapping away at her keyboard.

"Err, yeah, but that's definitely model worthy."

"Okay, okay, before Chaeyoung explodes with indignation about you eyeing up our head of IT...you should know that he's married. So...please don't try anything." Jihyo laughs as Clarissa makes a sound of outrage.

"That was one time and it was a mistake, I wasn't gonna do anything. I don't need the reputation of being a homewrecker!"

"Good, because from the photos I've seen on his desk...they have a good relationship. From what I've found out, they've been together for a while and married a few years or something. She's pretty." It's a good job that Hoseok is underneath a desk so that no one can see his smile at their words.

He's used to hearing that people find him attractive, used to the looks and the desire that lit in people's eyes. Many years ago, he used to thrive on it.

Now, it's just nice to hear but it isn't necessary.

There's only one woman who he cares about finding him attractive, and thankfully he's already married to you. It's unusual for him to hear someone calling you pretty in his workplace, though, and he feels dual pride and happiness bubbling up inside of him.

There's the quiet sound of the television playing as Hoseok enters the house, kicking off his shoes and laughing as Ciri bolts around the corner. As usual, her paws have no purchase on the floor and she scrabbles desperately.

Crouching down, he opens his arms and let's her jump into them, squeezing tightly as she yelps and licks his face excitedly. Her tail whacks into his stomach repeatedly, the sound audible and he takes a moment to appreciate how great his life is.

There's nothing better than coming home to his wife, his cat and his dog.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Cal-calm down you little butt!" Hoseok laughs, putting Ciri down and finishing his routine of putting his jacket away. It doesn't stop her from jumping up at his legs, desperate to try and get back in his arms.

"Alright, alright!" He chuckles. "Let me get in, you little demon. Where's your mommy, huh? Where is she? Where's mommy?"

As he expects, your retort is quick to his blatant attempt at getting Ciri even more excited.

"Don't you dare rile her up! If she gets too excited to go to sleep later, then you're taking her for a late night walk!"

Entering the living room with a huge grin, Hoseok takes a moment to look you over. You're curled up against your favourite arm on the couch, the soft and fuzzy patchwork blanket you love so much covering your knees whilst your fingers move the knitting needles in intricate patterns.

It's your favourite hobby lately, and Hoseok has plenty of scarves, hats and other items of clothing to prove it. The TV has an old episode of Chicago Fire playing as background noise and there's a delicious smell of tikka masala in the air.

"She'll be fine, you know she can't keep up this energy. Too small for it, aren't you, my little pumpkin?" He coos, scratching Ciri behind her ears and grinning at her obvious delight.

Moving around the couch, he sits down and let's his body relax into the soft cushions. The two of you had bought this new couch only a few months ago and he still wasn't quite used to it.

Before he can even say anything to you, Kasumi jumps up onto his lap and purrs her own welcome to him. Running his hand down her spine, he pays extra attention to the spot on her back behind her tail and chuckles as she arches into it, tail high in pleasure.

"Hey old girl, how're you?" He coos, kissing her head before pulling her into his arms for a cuddle. She's content to do so and begins to knead his arms, purr growing in volume.

"How was your day?" You get the question in before he can and the conversation he overheard earlier comes to mind immediately. The grin that spreads on his lips is hard to control, and it's not surprising that you notice it.

Eyes narrowing, your socked foot reaches out from beneath the blanket to poke at his thigh in suspicion.

"What's that smile for?"

"Nothing, I just overheard this woman at work saying she thought I was hot." Wriggling his eyebrows, Hoseok has to restrain himself from snorting at how you roll your eyes.

"Oh yeah? Did you tell her that you also leave shavings in the sink? Women don't tend to find that so hot." There's careful neutrality in your voice and he knows you're playing along with him.

Many years ago, he would've never told you something like this. You wouldn't have coped well with the knowledge and it would've likely led to stress and anxiety on your part, even though you would've known he had no intention of doing anything with anyone else.

Now though, you were confident and secure in your relationship with him. The very fact he was being so open about it was something that he knew you appreciated, that he didn't feel the need to keep it some clandestine secret. It meant he trusted you with the knowledge, trusted that you knew he didn't care about this other woman and trusted that you wouldn't get upset over it.

That didn't mean you wouldn't tease him, though.

"Hey, I have a reputation to keep up!" Hoseok says in mock outrage and you simply give him a droll look.

"You have pictures of Ciri and Kasumi on your desk, not to mention the gazillion photos of me on there. Any reputation you might have as a ladies man is gone when they see your desk." Now it's Hoseok's turn to narrow his eyes, looking you over suspiciously.

"How do you know about that? I've never told you what my desk looks like…" He trails off at the look of triumph on your face.

"I didn't, but now I do! Oh my god, that's so cute. Don't worry, I have pictures of you too." You give him that beautiful smile that he'd fallen in love with so long ago and sighs, shaking his head at how well you played him.

"Anyway, someone thinks I'm hot. But then one of the other women pointed out that I'm married and that my wife is very pretty. Which I totally agree with." There's no sarcastic response to that and he smirks at you, brow rising in challenge.

You don't say anything though, simply bite your lip shyly and look away. It makes his heart twist as he recognises the embarrassment of hearing that but also the fact that you still don't quite think you're beautiful. At least it had come from someone else this time, though.

"Anyway, that was the main thing that happened. Thought I'd let you know. Is that tikka a store bought sauce or did you make it from scratch?" Changing the subject quickly, he smiles internally as you accept his unsaid offer to move on from your moment of uncomfortableness.

You may not be there yet in terms of believing you were pretty, but he still had plenty of years to prove to you that Jihyo, and he, were right.

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #hoseok fluff #hobi fluff #j hope fluff #bts fluff #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok drabble #flower hoseok

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

Camisado 1/2

A/N: Hey, hi, hello! Here is first part my little Frankie Royalty AU, written for @its--fandom--darling ‘s follower celebration. The second part will be here soon, but for now enjoy some pain and angst!

Pairing: Frankie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: language, angst

PART 2

MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Francisco?” your voice was low and gentle as you stepped into kitchens and scanned the room for any sign of life. A frown crossed your features when you thought he might not be here at all, but he quickly popped up from behind the counters with a smile gracing his features and a dusting of flour on his nose.

“Hello there,” he beamed as you bounced over to him, quickly reaching up and wiping the flour away before kissing his nose.

“Hello there,” you repeated, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was there before pulling him in for a quick kiss, “I’ve missed you.”

"Feeling cheeky today, Princess?" Frankie's hands found your face as he pulled you closer to him and stole a handful of kisses. You were left breathless and yearning for more as eagerly grinned at him. He stopped for a moment and studied you gently playing with a lock of your hair, in awe of your beauty as always, "you are so beautiful, my love."

"And just who is feeling cheeky now, sweet Francisco?" you teased, running a hand through his dark curls as his hands found purchase on your waist. You giggled as he picked you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. He grinned as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"I think its you, Princess. Coming in here and openly kissing the kitchen boy?" he asked before kissing along your jaw and down your neck, causing you to bite back a moan, "so brazen. Where anyone could see us...my oh my."

"Shut up," you pulled him back to your lips, "its because I happen to be in love with you, you absolute fool!"

“Are you?” he must have been feeling extra cheeky because he slowly started to lift your skirts and trailed a hand along your calf, a juxtaposition of calloused hands and delicate skin as he kissed you till you were breathless, “I happen to be in love with you too, Princess.”

“Call me by my name,” you whispered in his ear, knowing there was nothing better than hearing it slip from his tongue. There was no need for formalities when it was just the two of you, there was no barrier, no difference, just two people in love, “please.”

And then it came forth, delicate and gentle as he trailed his lips along your neck, stopping just before the shell of your ear. He nipped lightly at the soft skin, making sure to leave no marks; if any were seen you’d both be dead. One day, you’d always promised, one day he could mark you as he pleased for the world to see, to let everyone know you were his. But he was no fool - he knew one day would never come, despite your honeyed words and saccharine promises. He was a servant, no more, no less, and you were a princess, everything he was not.

But he did love you, truly, deeply, and completely, and you loved him. That was no lie - but you could never be together. It was just...the way the world worked. People like Francisco Morales didn’t get the opportunity to be with royalty. People like yourself were not allowed the liberty of love and choosing your own happiness and destiny.

“Francisco,” it was a heady whisper as you started to tug at his shirt, slowly un-tucking it from the waistband of his trousers. His hands were roaming your frame as you closed your eyes and lost yourself in him.

Before it could get any further, you heard your name shouted from afar. Both of you froze immediately, a sense of terror bubbling up inside as Frankie pulled back and you hopped off the counter and straightened your skirts while he tucked his shirt back in. Deft hands help to smooth your hair back into place as you both took a few steps apart to appear as if you had been engaging in polite conversation, rather than about to have one another on the kitchen counter.

“Princess!” you rolled your eyes dramatically at Frankie before he shot you a quick wink as your father’s guard stormed into the kitchen.

“Calm down,” you huffed with a sigh that you didn’t even bother to cover up as you waved him off, “no need to alert the cavalry, I’m right here.”

“What are you doing in the kitchens?”

“I fancied a snack,” you lied, reaching for an apple in the bowl that was thankfully right in front of you, “and I came into the kitchen to look for something, as one normally does when it has been some time since they’ve eaten.”

He scowled, somewhere between annoyance and not quite believing you. You swallowed nervously, praying there was nothing to prove what the two of you had actually been doing. There was no evidence that anything happened, so he couldn’t do anything, “your father and mother request your presence in his study. Immediately.”

“Immediately?” you scoffed, “I’ve got plans for my afternoon - anything important can surely be handled by my sister, no? She’s to be the Queen after all, not me. I’m nothing to them, except another burden. Surely they meant Helena and not me.”

“They asked for you specifically, Princess,” he was quick to grow weary of your attitude. Normally you were polite, and mostly kept to yourself, but this particular guard was nothing but pain. Everything with him had to be by the book and he refused any levity, “you’re to come with me.”

“Fine,” you agreed, you took a loud, crunching bite of your apple as you walked over to him. Waving a hand at him, you ushered him along, “let’s go then, and get this over with. I have a multitude of things I’d rather be doing.”

He was silent as he led the way, allowing you to steal one last look at Frankie, who was almost red-faced as he tried not to laugh. You blew him a kiss followed by a wave as you put on your most neutral and disinterested face. You’d come back and find him later to finish what you started; if nothing else, you at least would get to spend time with him. There was nothing better than that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Ahhh, there she is,” your father stood up as soon as you walked into the room. Confusion marred your features as you look behind you to see who he was talking about. He walked over to you and put his hand on your shoulders and studied you, “I’m talking about you, of course. My youngest, my sweetest-”

“I’m not your youngest, father,” you reminded him, “I have two brothers, or have you forgotten about them? I’d also wager that-”

“Must you always talk back?” your mother’s face was set in a stern expression as she was perched on the edge of your father’s desk, “it’s unbecoming of a young lady. Husbands do not want a wife that’s always so haughty.”

“Bold of you to assume I want a husband,” you insisted as you crossed your arms over your chest, causing your father to sigh, “and if a husband does not want to listen to me talk or engage in conversation, then he is not a husband I want.”

“You don’t get a choice in that.”

“I refuse to marry a man I do not love.”

“You are not in a position to argue,” your father held up his hands, silencing the two of you, ever the neutral ruler. Rolling your eyes you waited for him to go on, “it is your duty, by birth, to marry a man of our choosing. You’re a Princess, you do not marry for love. You marry for relations, to produce heirs, for your people.”

“I am a second born,” you huffed, trying to understand what he was saying, “and a daughter at that. What does it matter? I’m not going to Queen, I’m just...me.”

“It does not matter,” your mother insisted, “you are a part of this family and you will do as we say. Your marriage is just as important as those of your sister and your younger brothers.”

“Fine,” there was no point in trying to argue, “should I ever find a man that I love that meets your standards, I’ll let you know. May I be excused now? I have other things I’d like to attend to -”

“That’s why you’re here,” your brow furrowed in confusion, but suddenly you felt like there was a lump in your throat, “you will get married and you will have a husband of our choosing. It just so happens that we’ve chosen one for you already.”

“What? No, no, no, no,” you eyes widened in shock as panic set deep in your bones, “you can’t just do that. W-with no warning-”

“We can and we have,” she raised an eyebrow, “you’re already older than you should be. Luckily, we’ve found a wonderful husband for you, the Lord of Easterly.”

“Easterly?” you repeated as you felt the life leave your heart, “he’s so much older, and he’s terrible! Everyone loathes him, surely you can’t be...you can’t be serious.”

“He’s a good match,” your mother insisted firmly, “and frankly are better than you could have hoped for. You should be thanking your lucky stars your father is king and could even arrange such a match at your age. You’re not getting any younger and you should have been married years ago.”

“Please,” your mind was already racing with hundred million thoughts, but they all went back to Frankie. You couldn’t get married, not to this man - a man you’d barely met and certainly didn’t love. No, no, no, this was all wrong. Suddenly your attitude went away and you were ready to beg and grovel, “please don’t do this. Please, you can’t force me to marry him...I beg of you. I will do anything, just don’t make me marry him. Please.”

“It also already done and settled,” her voice was cold and ice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear there was a pleased little smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth, “you’ll be married by the end of next month and then you will go to live with your new husband. You may be unhappy, but this is your duty. This has always been your duty.”

“No,” your lip trembled with effort as you tried not to cry, “I won’t do it.”

“There is no won’t, you will do this,” she crossed her arms over her chest and your father remained silent. You looked between the two of them, hoping, wishing, praying, that one of them would say something else. One of them had to be on your side, right?

“And if I refuse?”

“You will not,” her glare was cold as ice as she stared you down. You swallowed thickly but willed down all the ugly, vile things you wanted to say. You’d already angered them, and you needn’t poke the bear further...you didn’t want to know what else they could be capable of, “now go. An official announcement will be made at the end of the week and then we will plan your wedding.”

“I hope you know that I hate this,” it was the only thing that came to mind, “I will never forgive you for this.”

“We have nothing to be sorry for,” your father finally chimed in as he looked down at you, “you have always known that this was your duty, and now its your turn to fulfill that duty. Now run along and learn some manners and respect.”

You offered them a mock bow before storming out of the door, without waiting for it to be opened. Tears of anger and frustration rolled down your cheeks as you tried to still your racing mind. A month, you had a month. A month to figure out how to get out of this situation once and for all.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You watched as rain poured outside your window, tapping on it gently as you cried and cried. At some point, you weren’t sure if it was the raindrops obscuring your vision or your own tears making it cloudy. As soon as you’d stepped foot back outside that afternoon the skies had opened and rain had poured down, covering the earth as if it was weeping with you. You’d been so caught up in your sorrow, you’d forgotten about anything else - including meeting Frankie at your secret spot in the gardens.

You clutched the small stuffed bunny in your arms as you cried and hiccuped, wishing that this would all go away. You’d had the little stuffed animal for some time, a secret little present from Frankie because he knew how much you loved the small creatures. No matter how long you’d had it, it still managed to smell of him - a sweet, saccharine smell.

A soft knock came from the windows, startling you as you wiped away your tears and started at the large window. You weren’t sure if it had been your imagination or if you’d actually heard something, but as soon as you’d seen the shadow moving about, you were sure it was someone.

Slipping out from the soft blankets, you padded over and slowly opened the window. You immediately spied Frankie as he finally looked relieved to finally see you.

“Princess,” he whispered as he reached out and gently touched your face, grounding him in the fact that you were okay. But his heart wrenched when he realized that your face was wet, but not from the rain, “you’re crying - what’s wrong? Y-you didn’t come to our spot.”

“I-I-I’m sorry,” you sniffled as you took his hand in yours and pulled him inside the warmth of your rooms. It was silent while you made quick of pulling off his jacket and laying it on the back of your chair. Pulling him gently, you took him towards the warm, crackling fire, flopping down on the floor next to it, “I forgot, Frankie. I…”

And then it was silent for some time. Frankie sat next to you, silent as he warmed up and wanted for you to carry on with what you had to say. After some time, he pulled you in his lap as he studied your face. He brought a hand up, slowly, delicately as he traced over your features before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“What’s happened, my sunshine?” he whispered as you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his shoulder. Before you could get out any proper words, you ended up crying again, tears quickly soaking through his tunic as you cried. He held you gently, rocking back and forth as he tried to get you to quiet down so you could speak to him, “shhh, my sweet love. It’s okay, it’s all okay...I’ve got you.”

"Frankie," you finally managed to pull yourself together enough to spot the tears from spilling, "I received horrible news today...the worst thing that could possibly happen occurred today…"

"Whatever could it be?" he reached up and gently wiped away your tears from your cheeks and pushed a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I am to be married," you finally said the words out loud for the first time, shocking you both are vile they sounded, "by the end of next month. To Lord Easterly of all people."

"Oh."

“This is the worst thing to happen,” you whispered softly, “I-I don’t know what to do. Francisco, I love you - you’re the one I want to m-”

“You must marry him,” he stated; there was no emotion, no hesitation or anything. His voice was neutral - calculated to show no trace of emotion, “if your parents arranged your marriage to him, then you must marry him.”

“Frankie,” you pulled back, your face colored in hurt and shock, “I-I don’t love him, I don’t want to marry him. I love you…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, “it is your duty to marry him.”

Inside, his own heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces, mere fragments of a whole. He wanted to cry - to scream and argue and hurt everyone that had brought this upon you. But instead he just...shut down. In some ways, he’d spent the last few years preparing for this moment, knowing that eventually it would be inevitable. He was a stupid, foolish man to fall in love with you in the first place. He had no right, no reason to - he was of one world and you were of another. You could never be together. Never. And even though he’d always known that, locked away in the back of his mind, this didn’t make the crushing blow any easier. He was so in love with you, it was hard to believe that his love could ever die; sometimes it left him breathless just to think about how much he was enamored by you.

But you could never be his.

“Francisco,” you shook your head as you grabbed his face and turned his chocolate eyes towards you, “what on earth are you saying? I thought you...I thought you loved me? I can’t marry him, I will never be happy again if I do. It’s supposed to be you, my love. No one else.”

“Don’t be foolish,” his voice cracked as he took your hands and pulled them away, “we can never be together, we both know that. It was only a matter of time...we’ve always known it would come to this. You must do as they say.”

“I-I-I don’t understand,” you shook your head, blinking back tears as you pulled away from Frankie. He stared at the fireplace as he refused to make eye contact with you, “you want me to marry him?”

“I don’t,” he admitted quietly, “gods, of course I don’t. But there is no choice, no other way. We both know that. If I could, I would marry you right now, and take you away from this forever. But I can’t do that...we would never work. I know it’s not what you want to hear, and we’ve both been blissfully ignorant of that fact, but it was always bound to come to an end. That will never change how much I love you.”

“You want me to marry a man I do not love because I’m being told to,” you were crying now, fully bawling at blatant denial of...you, "you want me to subject myself to a life of unhappiness? You can't...you won't be able to go with me."

"You know your duty-"

"That is such shit!" you shouted at him, "you love me, right? We'll run away together - we can get married and live happily far away from here."

"And what? You'll just be found and brought back and I'll be jailed if not hanged," he threw his hands up in frustration, "or worse yet, we'll both be hanged. I can't...I can't give the life you deserve."

"We'll go far away," it was a meek protest as you contemplated dropping to your knees to beg him to stay and fight for you, "no one will know who we are. I swear it - please, Frankie. I don't want anything else but you. That's all I want - you. Just you. Please."

"I'm sorry," he stood up and crossed his arms over his chest as he deflected from the situation, "I can't do that. You have to do what you're told to do."

"So you don't love me...has this all been a lie then?"

"I do love you."

"It doesn't feel like it. Stay with me then!"

"I can't do that. You know that - we don't have a choice."

"Everything is a choice!" you shouted angrily, "everything!"

"Do you have any clue how hard this is for me too?!" you'd never heard him raise his voice this loudly before and took you aback for a moment as you pouted at him, "to see the woman I love every single day but not to be able to be with her? Having to see her in secret? I want to show the world I love you, I want everyone to know! But I can't - for your safety and mine. It pains me every day not to be able to love you as I want!"

"Then go with me," you reached for his hand but he quickly pulled out of your grasp, "we can run away together. Please don't leave me. Please."

"You know it has to be this way," his voice shook as a tear rolled down his cheek, "you know how it has to be. I will always love you. You have my heart, always and forever."

"Don't go," he started walking back to the window, refusing to look back over at you. You chased after him but he turned away, "please, Francisco. I'm begging you, I will do anything to get you to stay."

"Please don't…"

"W-we still have time," you were grasping at straws, but it was all you could think of doing, "we'll figure something out. What if I tell my parents we plan to marry? Or that I am with child?"

"They'll have me hanged before you could finish telling them and they'd force you to marry to cover up your pregnancy," you knew he was right.

"We can...we can make the most out of our time together," he turned to face you, and you met those eyes you'd fallen in love with one last time, "there is time...we can…"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he whispered softly, "we shouldn't make it harder than it already is. We can just end it now…"

"Please," you tried to grab his hand as he sidled along the ledge. Your soul felt like its light had been extinguished as he shook his head, recoiling from your touch as though it was laced with venom, "Francisco. I love you more than anything. You are my heart, my home-"

"Don't do this," his words cut like a knife at your throat as you realized he was serious. He wasn't coming back, "this ends tonight. If we keep going its only going to hurt worse. We'll cut our losses now. I love you, Princess, so damn much it takes my breath away. But this is the way."

"I love you," it was a strangled cry as you watched him go, "I will never love another. Only you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #frankie 'catfish' morales #fem!reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x you

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amaya-chwan · 3 years

Text

Takeaways from Therapy Game Restart 14 + Illustration Book Release Date

Hello again everyone! ❤️💛💜

It's finally here... chapter 14! In all its glory! 😍🥰✨

Before we get to our takeaways, just some news I missed in the last post!

🎉 SENSEI'S ILLUSTRATION BOOK WILL BE RELEASED AROUND THURSDAY, 23RD SEPTEMBER! 🎉

Image taken from this Twitter post from Dear+!

It is titled "日ノ原巡イラスト集　DARLING" and boasts a collection of illustrations from Sensei's works so far: Secret XXX, Therapy Game, and Kamisama no Uroko.

The current price is ¥2970 with tax (¥2700 without tax). If you'd like to preorder it on your proxy shopping service, I've found it on the Comi Comi Studios website here! The bonus for purchasing it on this website is a B5 clear file~ I haven't seen it on Animate just yet, so fingers crossed it'll appear on their website soon with another (different) bonus! ❤️💛

Alright, with this amazing news done, let's move onto our takeaways, the long awaited takeaways! Thank you for being so patient with me! 💜

My short life update: currently in week 8 of lockdown and I haven't left my house in a long time other than for exercise or groceries. But I do have my vaccination appointment booked so YAY! 🎉

Here are our takeaways for this chapter:

Oh man, we pick right up from the last page of chapter 13. MINATO, BB, YOU LOOK SO PAINED! 😭

Sensei is the BIGGEST tease... that's all we got of that Minato and Shizuma scene...👀😭

The female staff at the veterinary hospital have really mellowed out! They're not bad, after all. ☺️

Oh dear, Nakajou-sensei, please get better ASAP!

Whoa... did Onodera just...?? I'm starting to think back to that Onodera discussion we had a couple of months ago... 🤔

Poor Shizuma, always roped into Onodera's workplace stuff! IT'S BECAUSE YOU HAVE GREAT PEOPLE SKILLS, SHIZUMA! PROUD OF YOU! 😍🙌

Man, Onodera has a really... blunt way of saying things to her human clients. Wow, brave. 😲

But I will say, Onodera really is good with animals. 🙌

Yet again, I think about that Onodera discussion we had... 🤔🤔

And that’s it for this chapter’s takeaways! For a more detailed breakdown/summary of this chapter, please continue after the cut! There may or may not be a surprise scene (or two) there. Please keep reading if you want to see~ 😉✨

Our chapter begins where we left off in chapter 13--Minato pinning Shizuma down on the bed. Shizuma looks up at Minato and reflects on his actions that caused the pained look he is seeing.

Image taken from this Dear+ Twitter post!

On the next page (title page), the dialogue reads: Shizuma wants to understand what it is about his director (Onodera) that is making Minato uneasy. // However, that beautiful liar hides it well...

(I believe we are taken back to the morning before Shizuma and Minato meet up for their date.)

The title page features Onodera walking back to the clinic, bread in hand, with a cat cozying up on her leg. We are then brought to the clinic's lunchroom, with the female staff and Shizuma on break. The roster in the room shows that Onodera is extremely busy, Nakajou-sensei has afternoon house call appointments, Tatsumi is Nakajou-sensei's support for these appointments, and Shizuma has a half day and finishes in the afternoon in lieu of working on his scheduled day off.

Shizuma asks his coworkers what presents they like from their partners and takes note of their answers. One of the female nurses asks if it's Minato's birthday. Shizuma confesses that their relationship has been affected by the various things happening lately, so he wants to get Minato a gift before seeing him later that day.

The nurses quickly pick up that the gift is a "tribute" of sorts as this line of work means a lot of missed appointments and dates, and Shizuma confirms their suspicions. While the nurses realise male-male relationships and male-female relationships aren't that different in this aspect, everyone in the lunchroom is alerted to someone shouting Nakajou-sensei's name.

Shizuma and a nurse see Tatsumi with Nakajou-sensei, who has collapsed on the floor. While the staff are concerned about Nakajou's well-being, she brushes it off as a dizzy spell. Before they can help her up, Onodera sweeps her off her feet and carries Nakajou to her (Onodera's) office. While Nakajou asks Onodera to put her down out of sheer embarrassment, Shizuma and Tatsumi are in shock, with Tatsumi commenting on Onodera's manliness in that moment. One of the other nurses gently smacks Shizuma's shoulder and tells the two to grab a blanket and a drink for Nakajou.

In her office, Onodera asks Nakajou why she's been overworking herself to the point of collapsing. The nurse (who gave the gentle smack) very obviously hints to Onodera that it is her fault. As Nakajou calms the nurse by saying that's just how the director is, Tatsumi asks Nakajou about their afternoon appointments. She says she'll be fine to go after a little rest, but the nurse says she mustn't overexert herself.

After a few back and forths about who should go and the clients' needs/personality (picky about the vet, had a pet that doesn't like men, etc), Onodera says she will go. The nurses are shocked and reminisce about all the issues they've had when Onodera interacts with the owners. Tatsumi and Shizuma stand there, and can very clearly imagine those situations happening.

While Onodera rearranges and informs the nurses of the shift changes to accommodate Nakajou-sensei, Shizuma has a terrible premonition that unfortunately comes true: he is appointed as Onodera's support for the afternoon house calls.

Wearing a sulky expression, Shizuma packs the necessary equipment in Onodera's car and reminds her that he has a very important engagement that night that he cannot miss, and as such will leave immediately after the house call appointments are done. Onodera bursts his bubble, and tells him to give up on those plans while he can since this is the line of work he's chosen.

As Shizuma reads the client files, he questions Onodera on why he is her support when he's never attended to these clients before. While Onodera tells him that good coordination is important with a physician's support and that he's the only one she can rely on to give her an honest opinion and calm the clients, Shizuma realises that he's basically the mediator between her and the owners. She confirms that this is his strong point, has great expectations for him, and proceeds to drive. Shizuma then reads the patient files at lightning speed, realising there's a threatening 'something' that Minato has sensed, but that's just how the director is. He then vows to make it to their meeting tonight, no matter what.

The first three house calls, as expected, involve Onodera insulting and angering the owners--Onodera tells the first client that his insistence on seeing Nakajou rather than a 'young' director is having a negative effect on his pet who needs immediate medical care; Onodera offends the second client, inferring from their conversation that her pet's appearance is more important than the need to shave their fur and get an ultrasound done; Onodera accuses the third client of being irresponsible in caring for his exotic animals and asks for more effort on his part. In all three scenarios, Shizuma awkwardly smiles while trying to ease the tension.

The scene skips to Onodera and Shizuma arriving at their fourth and final house call for the day. Just as Onodera explains to Shizuma that she must check a whole host of things at house calls (and indirectly be too blunt about it with the owners), Shizuma asks her to consider the owner's feelings and change when and how she says things. She glares ahead in silence, and Shizuma is just glad that she is now aware of it. He again reminds her to talk with the owner nicely and gently as he probably won't be able to help with the next client as their pet dislikes men. Onodera tells him to just sit in the corner and witness the client become furious while he doesn't help, making him feel slightly guilty for saying that. He is now adament on not helping her.

They reach the owner's home and we meet an elderly woman named Shiratori and her 9-year-old male cat, Tono. Shiratori apologises to Shizuma as her cat doesn't like men. Tono hisses at them as Onodera opens his cage, but is then coaxed into submission by Onodera who covers his vision with a towel and takes him into her lap to calm down. Shiratori and Shizuma are surprised at his sudden docile nature, with Shizuma witnessing how well she deals with animals.

As Shizuma looks on at Onodera while she completes a check on Tono, he sees she is crumbling at the friendliness and talkative nature of Shiratori, who sings nothing but praise for Onodera and how her family must be proud to have such an amazing daughter. Aiming to ease her troubles and remembering the earlier guilt-trip she gave him, he redirects Shiratori's attention to her broken fly screen and offers to fix that plus everything else that needs repair in her home.

Onodera watches as the two leave the room for a bit before apologising to Tono for ignoring him. Tono looks on at Onodera happily while she asks him how he can live with such a lively human and to tell her his secret to this. She brings him into her arms once more to check his limbs, and as Tono looks up smiling at Onodera, Onodera sees her reflection in Tono's eyes, and both seem to realise something.

BG Text: Stare...

Suddenly, Shizuma and Shiratori, who are busy fixing the window, hear a loud crash and rush into the room to find Tono atop the cabinet and Onodera on the floor, with her hair in disarray. In the next panel, Tono is shown to be hiding in the bookshelf, looking on irritatingly at the humans. Shiratori apologises to Onodera, who shakes it off and says it's nothing to worry about and no harm's been done.

Shiratori asks if Onodera will fix/tie her hair up again, but when Onodera says her hair tie was broken when Tono used her as a launchpad to get on the cabinet, Shiratori runs to get her a new one. As Shiratori gushes over the 3 piece dopey looking character hair tie set she received as a present from her grandchild (and lets Onodera pick one), a greatly displeased look is plastered on Onodera's face. Shizuma, in shock, notices her displeasure and hopes she just thanks Shiratori for it. And Onodera does, bringing a great big smile to Shiratori's face.

As Onodera and Shizuma leave, Shiratori says she's glad to have talked with Onodera and invites her to come over again. As she says this, we see Onodera looking back with a blank look in her eyes.

And that’s it for this chapter! THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR! 💜 While I was surprised at the lack of Minato in this chapter (Sensei legit is such a tease, LOL 🤣), I'm happy we can learn more about Onodera. Ngl, I'm starting to really question if Onodera is male or female now, given what transpired in this chapter. I guess we shall see in the next one!

I also changed the formatting a bit and removed the bullet points. Please let me know which format is better/easier to read! Ahah!

EDIT: Spelling and grammar checks are done! Didn't change a lot, but hope it reads better! 💜

📢 As always, please support Hinohara-sensei by purchasing her books and CDs! 📢

And please also refrain from resharing these translations and images outside of this post! Thank you for understanding! ❤️💛

There won't be a chapter in next month's (September release) Dear+, so I shall see you in two months for the next chapter (Dear+ November Issue, to be released in October).

As always, stay safe during these turbulent times and look out for each other and for your loved ones! 💜❤️💛

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hheavenlysinful · 3 years

Text

and they were roommates.

✘ k.k x reader

summary: you’re 10 more pulls from pity and your roommate kenma might just be the only way to get xiao.

wc: 1.7k

✘ fluff; no warnings

✘ an: hi! this is my very first post on tumblr! i hope you enjoy ^-^ asks are open!

masterlist

"80," you whined as you kicked open the door to kenma's room. it was midnight and you had still yet to sleep as you consumed cult-like rituals. you didn't believe in sacrifices, but if you had to throw your diluc of the highest mountain in liyue...so be it.

you wanted.... no. you needed xiao. you had saved up so many primogems, even as ayaka's banner came and went. and it took every single bit of self-control to not pull on yoimiya's banner, especially with the arrival of the cute claymore wielding chibi, Sayu. but if all this pain meant you could have xiao in your hands...it was worth it.

you had begun wishing late at night, at exactly 11:11. it wasn't a really important time, but you'd take any luck you could get. you would have xiao in your party even if it meant swiping money from your non-existent bank account. but...you should have known from your previous summons that the power of god and anime was not on your side. it was terrifying as you wasted 1600 primogems. your heart stopped as the shooting star streaked across your screen, only to fade into a bland colour of purple. but even if you did get a gold star, you would have to fight genshin's worst enemy of all.

the 50/50.

many have tried fighting this enemy, coming out of the fight with a qiqi or a jean. not that you would mind any of them. you were lacking five stars anyway. but... you just wanted xiao. you loved xiao. you loved his design all the way down to his lore. you had farmed everything for him. his ascension materials, exp books, mora.... you had even suffered months in the viridescent domain and even gotten a couple good pieces.

your eyes sullenly looked at the last 1600 primogems.

your last ten pull.

you gulped, closing your eyes as you pulled one last time. you didn't stay on the screen long enough to see the colour change. you pressed skip and waited, scrolling through the ten objects.

but alas.

no five star.

it hit you like a truck as you went back to the wishing screen only to see the 0 primogems mocking you. you scowled at the banner, at the xiao you would never have.

you groaned as you turned off your laptop, tucking your head in your knees.

you really thought you would get him and it's not like you had any money to spend.

the house was quiet the only sounds were coming from a closed-door a mere feet in front of you.

your eyes sparkled.

surely, kenma wouldn't mind....right?

your roommate was a bit introverted, opting to stay huddled in his cozy room. he rarely came out even for dinner. not that you really complained. it was an awkward situation in the first place. he didn't want a roommate or express that he deesired one, and yet here you were. he never really complained either, even seeming to enjoy your presence sometimes. although you had to admit, it was difficult to have a real conversation with the pudding-haired man. but the few conversations you had with him were pleasant and calming.

you took a deep breath as you made your way to his room. you didn't know how to enter. sure, the knocking was a good idea, as it showed respect. but maybe that would be too formal with someone you had lived almost a year with.

you kicked open the room, ignoring the small screech that came from the lean, slouching figure.

"y/n, hello." his mouth gripped into an odd smile as his eyes darted from his pc screen to you, clad in only a thin shirt and shorts.

"hi, kenma, I have a favour—"

"uh, wait a moment." something like a blush glazed over his cheeks as he looked back to the screen. "no chat, that's not— chat. no."

confusion must have shown all over your face as kenma whirred towards you in his chair.

"i'm streaming," he rubbed his neck awkwardly as if he had just proclaimed something embarrassing.

"oh," you chuckled, stepping from one foot to another, "i'll just leave—"

"no." he stopped you abruptly, almost getting out of his chair, pausing at your firm figure.

"chat," he pointed towards his pc, "wants to uh... meet you?"

you couldn't tell if he was asking for your permission or giving you an order but you chuckled softly before walking towards him. it was hard to not let your blush show was you took him in, sleep-deprived eyes and all. his shirt slightly rode up near his hips, the small slip of lean muscles full-on display. the sweatpants clutched at his waist, loosely covering his legs. his arms were fidgeting, small flexes of his biceps catching your eye. you nervously chuckled as you stood behind his chair, arms hovering over the top of his head.

"wait," kenma rose, skittering over to his bed to get an oversized crimson hoodie, "put this on."

you nodded embarrassingly before slipping on his hoodie, moaning slightly at the warmth that seeped into your arms. he motioned for you to sit on the chair, to which you furiously shook your head.

"no, n-no, I'll uh just...stand," you muttered. kenma rolled his eyes, pushing you towards the chair. it was a side of him you had never seen. though he kept his slightly awkward facade, his eyes glimmered with a slight slyness. it was utterly beautiful. the dark circles under his golden eyes seemed to disappear as he gave a smile to the stream. you blushed at the compliments and comments that rushed in the chat.

she's so pretty?!?!?!?!?!

omigosh please she's blushing it's so groineorignerrg

are you single????????????

are you and kenma dating :0

it was the last question that caught your eye, your heart beating uncontrollably.

"i- uh, um no, see—"

"chat calm down," he rolled his eyes, but the teasing glint still remained. the smirk that wavering on his mouth grew into a full-blown smile as you groaned into the warm soft texture of the hoodie.

"this is y/n," he smiled towards, "my roommate."

"this is...chat," he motioned to a screen filled with random emojis of cats.

"hi," you murmured as you shyly looked away from the camera.

"hmm," kenma hummed, "what were you here for?"

"oh," it wasn't till then you remembered why you were in his room.

"i wished today," you sadly said, a monotone tone engulfing your still shy voice.

"oh yeah, the xiao banner is today isn't it."

you nodded, looking down at the ground.

"did you get him?"

you silently stared at your hands covered with the long sleeves of the crimson hoodie.

"did you lose the 50/50," he asked, patting your head softly. you felt like a cat, as you leaned into his soft touch.

"i didn't have even have enough wishes to pity," you pouted, "i'm stuck at 80."

"and you came to ask for more?" he couldn't hide the teasing smile that peeked onto his mouth, the corners of his lips turning up into a humour-filled smile.

you only pouted, grumbling about the lack of luck you seemed to have.

"well," he looked towards the stream and the flurries of comments that asked him to get you xiao, "how about this."

he reached over your head, muting himself. his mouth hovered over your ear his warm breath wafting over your neck.

"turn off the camera," he whispered. your fingers trembled as you slowly turned off the camera. he leaned back, his forearm laying on the crown of the chair. you were about to talk, random words popping in your head as you opened your mouth.

you yelped as kenma suddenly whirled the chair around, the loud screeches of the chair echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"hi?" your voice was no louder than a whisper as you looked into the intense gold of kenma's eyes. he loomed over you, loose strands of hair tickled your nose.

"hmm," was all he said as he came closer, one leg right beside yours and the other anchoring himself to the ground. his arms laid right next to your hunched-up shoulders, trapping you. and though at this moment you ought to be frightened, you couldn't help the strange excitement that bubbled in your stomach.

he came closer, lips only a finger width away from your own. you closed your eyes, waiting for the soft impact it seemed you desired.

you only opened your eyes when kenma let out a soft laugh.

"your face," he wheezed slightly. you threw him an incredulous look, a scowl growing on your face. you swore as you threw your hands around his neck, pulling him in for a slight impact.

your lips moulded together, it was nice. softness and the taste of apples lingered on your tongue, on your lips as he slowly moved away.

it was your turn to laugh. a dark red blush had smacked itself on his cheeks, the colour trailing down his neck. he stuttered as he averted his gaze from your slightly swollen lips.

"your face," you mocked, rolling your eyes. "can i get xiao now."

he looked at your face as if he could see the invisible heat that rolled of your skin. you pouted, eyebrows pinched together. kenma moved back, hand covering the blush that continued to burn his skin.

"yes," he muttered as you pushed you towards the computer, motioning for you to log into your account. he refused to answer any of chat's questions as you gleefully logged in. though it was hard to hide that something had happened, especially at the unnatural blush that kenma still bore.

"stop chat," he whined as you chuckled.

you sighed into his touch as he grabbed your shoulder, small circular motions making you melt into his touch.

you may not get xiao, but you did get something slightly better. you smiled at kenma.

"how many primogems?" he asked as he looked at the store.

"oh just enough to make one ten pull." you nonchalantly said as you watched the elegant cursor hover the 980 genesis crystals. you hadn't ever bought primogems as you were a free-to-play player allowing you to double your purchase. a sinister look crept into kenma's gaze as the mouse snapped to the last option.

"kenma," you screeched, "no."

"kenma," he smiled, "yes."

you growled as he went through the transaction. you blanched at the 12960 primogems now in your possession.

that was enough for 80 wishes.

"c1 xiao, chat?" he asked, chuckling at the flurries of excited yes.

you continued to scowl, but when you saw the pure happiness that glowed in his golden eyes...you couldn't help but smile.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kenma x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcannons #kenma kozume x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fics #kenma kozume x you #kenma #kenma kozume #writing

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peterprkrsbtch · 3 years

Text

sapphire - part 2

Peter Parker x reader

A/n: Part 1 is up on my page! There’s a couple flashbacks in this one so I put the dates before so it doesn’t get confusing. If you enjoy this one, like or reblog to share! I already wrote part 3 and it’s my favorite one yet so that’ll def be up soon :)

tag- @juliannaamonroe

Warnings: swearing, make out, violence

(September 1)

We’re one minute away. Come out hoe!

You smile as you read the text, glancing at yourself in the mirror again, nerves and excitement ablaze in your stomach. You’d been planning for this day since last winter, and now it was finally here. You adjust your carefully styled hair and double check that the natural makeup you applied was sitting on your skin correctly.

Of course it was. That goddamn injection sometimes made you feel like a vampire out of twilight and sometimes you still got surprised when you saw your own face while passing a mirror or a particularly reflective window. You smooth down the ruffles of your short black skirt and tug the top of your tank top down so a bit more of your curves show.

You put on your white sneakers and tug your shirt back up to cover your chest again. We’ll have to work up to that, I guess. A long honk sounds from outside your apartment building and you curse as you scramble to grab your backpack and phone before running down and out the front steps.

“Awwww,” You say sweetly at the sight of the two girls who had become your best friends. “That’s the shirt you were wearing when we met, Ally.” You jokingly brush away a tear, pretending to be ultra touched.

“Best damn day of my life.” Ally says from her spot in the drivers seat, laughing at your dramatics. She may be joking around, but her sentiment makes your heart clench. This year really was going to be different.

***

(July 3)

You quickly realized you needed to find some Midtown friends if your plan for senior year was going to work. If you dared to show up looking, well, like you do, completely alone and friendless, you might become even more of an outcast than you were before. The first month of summer had been the least lonely time of your year so far, thanks to a certain Spiderman.

The two of you spent most of your nights together, flying through the city, fighting crime together, and talking. The “slow” nights that used to fill you with boredom quickly became your favorite when he was involved. The sound of his laugh and the jokes he makes during fights quickly became the highlight of your days.

But you couldn’t let yourself get too distracted by him. After all, neither of you knew what the other looked like. The only other boy you’d ever found remotely cute (other than celebrities) was nerdy Peter Parker from your high school. He wasn’t your usual type and he seemed to be just as shy as you were, so you had little (zero) hope that it would ever lead to anything more than a smile during the hallway if you accidentally made eye contact.

Sorry Spiderman, but no way in hell are you gonna make me lose my focus. The loneliness you had felt through the last three years of high school was too much. Your plan had to work. So that night as the two of you patrolled together, you softly mentioned that you were going to a pool party tomorrow and wouldn’t be able to meet.

He seemed a bit disappointed, but you brushed it off, trying to remember the names of the girls at your school who seemed nice. Peter, however, couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that you had told him where you would be tomorrow. There was only so many pool parties in a city like New York.

You tried not to think about who was under the Spiderman mask out of respect and, to be honest, it seemed like a pointless endeavor. Peter was not the same. No matter how tired he was from patrol, he always had time to lay awake before he fell asleep and picture what you would look like under the mask.

There wasn’t very many people who understood Peter’s secret life. None, actually, until you. Maybe that was why he was so intrigued by you, because you were so similar, but in his heart he knew that wasn’t it. He liked you. And he hated himself for it. But once you mentioned the pool party, he made sure to take one long last glance at the color of your hair before you two said goodbye. Just in case he happened to see that same hair tomorrow.

(July 4)

You were so, so nervous. Your closet of exclusively sweats and hoodies was trashed as Part 1 of your plan, much to your mother’s happiness. She had always been honest about her hatred of your junior year clothes and was extremely excited to purchase everything you needed. As distant as she was, you had to give her a little credit.

Although you’d been wearing the new clothes for the past month, this was the first time you were doing it so publicly. Your denim shorts exposed miles of smooth leg, and you’d decided to wear a red tube top in honor of the holiday-not to mention it really showed off your curves. You’d meticulously done your hair and makeup like you’d been practicing the past month and prayed that somebody would talk to you today.

You’d seen the flyer for the Fourth of July party on Instagram, which had been step 2. Unfortunately, you had two followers. Your mom and her boyfriend. Step 2 is a work in progress.

One long walk later, and you’re in front of the address. You swear you could explode of nerves right there, but instead you take a deep breath and force your legs to carry you inside the house and towards the people out by the pool.

Your eyes are so focused on your destination, the glass sliding door, that you barely notice when you bump shoulders with someone, causing you to drop your phone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You say, reaching down to grab your phone.

“Oh my god, stop. That was totally my fault.” You stand back up to see the girl who was speaking, and you recognize her immediately. Her name is Ally, and she’s a part of the most popular group at school. Despite her long black hair and sweet smile, you haven’t heard many good things about her. Not the type of person you were looking for.

“Do you go to Midtown? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Ally says, making no move to walk away from the conversation.

“Yeah, actually. My name is Y/n?” You don’t miss the way her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen with confusion and shock. You’re embarrassed now, realizing maybe you weren’t as invisible as you’d thought. In an effort to explain away the last few years, “My dad left a couple years ago and it was pretty hard on me, but I’m all better now.” You flash the most dazzling smile you can manage and hope she accepts it.

“No way, mine did too!” She gasps as she grabs your hands. You feel a small pang of guilt at that. It was a lie, you had no idea who your dad was and frankly, you didn’t think your mom knew either.

The conversation starts to flow between you and Ally easily as you make your way out to the pool. “This is my best friend Betty.” Ally introduces you to the sweet-as-pie girl and the three of you quickly fall into a conversation like you’d known each other forever. A few of their guy friends tried to come up and talk to you, but she just waved them away. “Leave us alone, we just met our new best friend.”

You felt bad for judging Ally so harshly earlier, blindly trusting the stupid rumors you’d heard about her. Popular or not, the three of you got along better than any of the other friends you’d tried to make throughout your life. They do briefly make fun of your instagram before forcing you to take and post pictures with the two of them by the pool. They both tag your account.

Peter didn’t seem to share the good luck you did. He’d dragged Ned to 6 different pool parties across the city and saw no one who looked like Sapphire. Disappointed, he spent the night patrolling alone and dodging fireworks.

***

(September 1)

Since that day, you’d become a trio with Ally and Betty. The day after the pool party you’d woken up to nearly 1,000 followers on your instagram. Everyone from Midtown who never gave you a second look when you had your hood shoved over your head now wanted to be your friend.

The three of you spent the rest of your summer days together, and you fit into the popular friend group better than you could have imagined. Maybe you watched too many teen movies, but you expected them to be mean. The only mean one was Flash, and even he was basically harmless. You’d given up Saturday night patrols with Spiderman for a weekly girls night with your new best friends. You thought having new friends and a bustling social life would’ve made it easier to forget about Spiderman, but somehow he seeped into every area of your life.

That damn laugh. As Ally and Betty sing along to the radio loudly, you bite your lip to stop a dumb smile from rising to your lips. God, just thinking about him made you flustered. As Ally drives into the school parking lot, nerves bubble in your stomach.

As if you aren’t stressed enough, your brain decides this is the perfect moment to remind you of the one night this summer you and Spiderman haven’t talked about since.

*** (August 14)

The two of you were sprawled out on a gravel rooftop next to each other. Not the most comfortable of relaxing spots, but you’d both grown tired of flying around under the summer heat with no hint of trouble for miles.

“This sucks.” Spiderman huffs out.

“Rude.” You reply quickly, even though you know he isn’t talking about you.

“Oh, no,” He immediately sits up. “I didn’t mean you suck, I just meant, you know, because there’s not much going on right now and it’s hot and-” He sees your cheeky smile and stops himself with a laugh. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s cute.” You bite your lip. The fuck did I just say? Before you can begin to explain, he jumps to his feet.

“Spidey sense, let’s go!” You jump up too and follow after him as he jumps off the building. Thank god. I’ve never been so grateful that someone’s in trouble. The fight was tough, even with the both of you. These men had strange guns that keep firing at you and Spiderman even though you’d tried multiple times to crush them with your powers.

“The guns are magic-proof! I can’t destroy them!” You yell over to Spiderman as you take down one of the men in between punches.

Somehow, two men get ahold of their guns and corner you. Just as you start levitating to fly over them, a web shoots from somewhere behind them and the men and their guns are yanked away. Spiderman wastes no time and you swear he seems angry with the two men as he webs them to the wall next to their friends before picking up the guns and violently smashing them on the ground.

You’re still frozen in shock, watching him. When he seems to be satisfied with the broken pile of guns on the floor, he runs back over to you. “I’m so sorry, I know we promised-” You finally break out of whatever trance you were in to place a finger over his lips, casting a disgusted glance towards the men staring at you from their webbed cocoons.

“Not here.” You say quietly, and fly the two of you quickly up to the roof. He blinks for a second, his head spinning from the speed. You rarely use your full speed, especially with him, but you had to get out of there. “Okay, go ahead.” You say after a second of silence.

“I’m so sorry, I know we agreed not to get in each other’s way, and I know you can handle yourself, probably better than I can. Hold on, I didn’t mean I handle you. That sounded weird. Anyways, I just got so angry when I saw those men pointing their guns at you I had to-” He’s talking about the agreement you two had made when you first started working together. You both obviously were skilled, so you agreed that you wouldn’t interrupt each other’s fights unless asked.

“Spidey, I really don’t care you interrupted. It was hot.” JESUS CHRIST NOT AGAIN. You immediately winced and slap a hand over your mouth. “Oh my god I did NOT mean to say that I’m so sorry.”

Your rambling is cut off as Spiderman’s hand travels up to the bottom of his mask and you think your eyes might fall out of your head with how wide they become as he begins to pull it up, revealing the soft pale skin of his neck.

His jaw, chin, and then lips become visible as he lets the mask rest on his nose. The 0.5 seconds that have passed since you stopped talking feel like an eternity until he suddenly leans forward, crashing his lips into yours. Spiderman is an amazing kisser, you decide, as you gently kiss him back.

WHAT AM I DOING? Your mind is going haywire but instead of stopping, you deepen the kiss and nearly smile when he lets out a low moan. Everything you’ve told yourself about focus and distractions flies out the window when his gloved hands clutch your waist and pull you closer to him than you thought possible.

It feels like it’s only been a second when he pulls away, but your eyes flicker to his swollen lips and you know it must have been longer. You smile as you stare at his lips, only inches from yours, but as your gaze moves to the rest of his exposed skin the smile drops slowly.

Your rational mind comes back. It’s easy to forget when you’re with him that you’ve only known each other a couple months. How could you do this? Your first time making out with a boy, and he doesn’t even know your name.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whisper as he starts to say something. “Sorry, what were you going to say?” He blinks slowly and takes a deep breath before stepping away from you.

“Nevermind. See you tomorrow.” And he swings away from you. You silently curse yourself for being such a big mouth, wanting to know what he would have said. You can’t help the small voice in the back of your head, telling you that you made the wrong decision.

You raise your hand to run your fingers along your tingling lips before flying home as fast as you can.

***

(September 1)

You wince at the painful memory before reminding yourself everything was back to normal the next day and neither of you mentioned it again. You still weren’t sure if that was good or bad. You force all thoughts of Spiderman out of your brain and even give Ally an encouraging cheer when she successfully parks on her first try.

You don’t remember Midtown having so many fucking students last year, but maybe it was because they were all staring at you. Any confidence you’d had as you opened Ally’s car door had disappeared as everyone around you turned to gawk. The bright smile you’d pasted on a second ago quickly fell and you glanced at Ally nervously.

“Come on, girls!” She says enthusiastically, grabbing an arm from you and Betty as she breaks the brief moment of awkward silence. God bless you Ally. As the three of you hoist your bags over your shoulders and make your way into the school, you mouth a quick thank you her way, hoping she can see your genuine appreciation. She smiles at you. “I’m happy we’re going into this year as three instead of two.”

Betty leans forward to smile at you. “Me too, y/n. I’m really happy you’re here.” You smile back brightly. There really was no one as sweet as Betty.

“You won’t be so happy I’m here when I talk your ear off during class.” The three of you continue laughing and joking your way down the hall to stop at your lockers.

“Oh my god, is that Y/n?” Ned interrupts Peter’s latest ramble about his night with Sapphire. Usually, he really did listen. Ned was fully invested in the superhero love story, as he called it, unfolding. But the sight of a girl notorious for hiding in her own baggy clothes across the hall in a miniskirt and tank top was more important.

“Y/n?” Peter asks, confused why Ned wasn’t paying attention. But when he turned around to see what Ned was staring at, he understood. He’d seen you around school the past three years, but never like this.

You looked like a fucking model. And everyone in the hall couldn’t help but stare. “Holy shit.”

“Right, dude?” Ned breathes out, the two of them shamelessly staring. “Why didn’t that happen to me over summer? Oh my god, of course she’s friends with Betty.”

Peter laughs as his best friend goes on about “two pretty best friends” but he can’t take his eyes off of you. The light in your eyes as you joke with your friends, making them double over in laughter, feels strangely familiar. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on his part because you’re extremely pretty.

He watches in surprise as you and Ally walk up to the AP Chem classroom, waving goodbye to Betty sadly as she heads off to English. You turn to walk into the classroom after Ally, but you pause and look back down the hallway-right at him. Instead of yelling at him for being a creep like he expected, you smile at him widely before heading into the class. He exhales deeply and glances down at his schedule quickly, a smile appearing. AP Chem.

Of course his thoughts are still consumed by Sapphire, but it was hard to ignore you especially after seeing his name on the seating chart next to yours in the back row. Plus, Sapphire was the one who’d shot him down after he finally tried to make a move after catching onto the hints he thought she’d been dropping.

He felt bad for thinking that about her, he didn’t blame her at all. He knew there was a million reasons they shouldn’t be together-and he didn’t want to know specifics on why he wasn’t good enough. Sapphire hadn’t brought up that night since, and he was fine to pretend it never happened.

You were already in your seat at the lab table, but Ally was still standing next to you waving her hands wildly as you two spoke. He doesn’t want to interrupt so he freezes in place, unsure of whether or not to go sit down. He’d thought you were cute, and a little shy like him in freshman and sophomore year and he remembered the many times he would look at you from across the room like he is now.

His eyes had been quick to find you whenever you two were in the same room ever since the first day of school freshman year when you smiled at him in the hall. Even last year, when all he saw of you was a curled up lump at your desk or a sliver of hair peeking out from behind your hood he still noticed you.

Luckily for him, the bell rings and he slides into his seat just as the teacher begins speaking. “Hi, Peter.” You lean over to him, your shoulders nearly touching, and whisper so the teacher doesn’t hear. “I’m y/n.” You smile warmly as his cheeks and ears turn light pink.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself. We’ve gone to school together since we were 6?” Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed and you purse your lips together.

“No, I know, just-” Peter notices you seem a bit frustrated as you glance around the room and then lean even closer to him. “Everybody thinks I’m new.” You nervously mess with your bracelet.

“You do look a bit different.” He points out and you raise your eyebrows before sighing slowly and shrugging.

“I was just sick of feeling invisible, you know. Not because I care what anyone here thinks. Last year was just, really, really lonely.” Peter watches you intently as you speak, hanging onto your every word.

Your confession made him sad. If only he’d been brave enough to ask if you were okay. You pause for a second and meet his eyes. Any other guy in this school would’ve laughed at you by now. You gesture to your outfit and nervously adjust your skirt. “I’m also not a superficial person. It wasn’t about changing how I looked, I just needed the confidence to put myself out there.” You pause and nod towards Ally with a smile. Peter glances over to Ally and sees her blow you a kiss, which you catch across the room with a giggle.

I miss you! She mouths with a dramatic frown and this time Peter laughs quietly with you. “I thought she was a bitch before I met her.” He looks at you with surprise to find you smiling at him. “But,” you hold up a finger for dramatic effect, “because I put myself out there, I met my best friends. A lot of people around here judge on appearances. I’m not like that anymore.” You say with confidence.

“That’s really cool of you.” Peter whispers back, and the sound sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. He’s so close to you and the feelings you thought you left behind two years ago don’t seem so left behind as you stare into his warm eyes. “For the record, I’d be your friend no matter what you look like.”

Peter has only been this nervous a couple times before in his life, and he can’t help but feel like he’s betraying Sapphire with the way he’s thinking about you. He watches as you smile warmly at his words and extend your hand towards his.

“Friends? Even though I'm so much uglier now?” You pout your bottom lip out, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He nearly laughs out loud and has to remind himself you’re still in class. “I know guys go wild for the homeless man sweatpants look.” You’re both trying to hold back your laughter, shaking silently in the back of the class as he raises his hand and grabs yours.

“Friends.” Peter isn’t sure why he keeps going, but he does. “And just so you know, you were never ugly. I don’t know why you tried so hard to hide yourself last year, but even then,” the words leaving his mouth sound confident but Peter takes a deep breath before looking up from his lap to meet your eyes. Your wide eyes and surprised smile give him just the confidence he needs to finish. “You could never be ugly.” Peter can hear his heart beating.

You blink at him. This boy could not be real. Here he was, basically implying that the one thing you had wanted all along, for somebody to notice you, was true. Not only was it true, but it was Peter fucking Parker telling you this. Despite everything that had changed you in the past year, the giddy feeling in your bones brought you back to sophomore year and pining over Peter.

“Really?” Your smile spreads and he seems to let out a deep breath of relief.

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you until your sweet moment is interrupted by a fat ass syllabus dropping onto the lab table in front of you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “This class is gonna be so much homework.” You turn the page so Peter can briefly see the list of projects alone, and it’s enough to make him cringe.

Something about the way the whispers travel back and forth between you all class makes you realize you hadn’t fallen into a friendship this easily, even with Ally. Even with Spiderman, your brain points out.

A red and blue suit swings into your mind and you are hit with a wave of guilt. Not two hours ago I was thinking about my make out with Spiderman, and now I’m comparing him to Peter?

You have all but one class together, and you can’t help but glance in Peter’s direction any chance you get. The only time you don’t see him is at lunch, even though you look all around the lunch room for him or the boy he’d been standing with this morning. You thought it would be too creepy to ask him where he’d been.

Finally, the last bell of the day rang, and you were sure if you didn’t have superpowers you would’ve been exhausted. School is kinda draining when you actually acknowledge people. Ally and Betty share your complaints about being tired on your drive home, all three of you agreeing you need naps. You kiss them both on the cheek and wave goodbye before heading up to your room.

Forget what I said about having superpowers. I’m fucking tired. You lay down on your bed, groaning into the pillow at the thought of having to patrol tonight. You sat up abruptly. You’d never dreaded patrol, it was always the thing you looked forward to. You glance towards the suit in your closet and sigh.

It’s not patrol I’m nervous about. It’s him. You feel incredibly guilty about today. I’m not a two timer. If I want to like Peter, I have to talk to Spiderman about that kiss first. You start to make your way over to the closet before another wave of exhaustion hits, sending you straight back to your bed.

After a nap. Then we’ll talk.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #avengers #marvel #spiderman #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut

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amarimaryllis · 3 years

Text

All The World Drops Dead (Oikawa x Reader)

Pairing: Oikawa/Reader, Slight!Iwaizumi/Reader (like very slight, microscopic kinda slight, almost as if it’s not there unless you read between the lines because it’s not explicitly stated kinda slight) Prompt/Summary: Loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream and maybe it was time to wake up. Alternatively, Oikawa leaves you behind to chase his dreams. Tags: Angst, Fluff Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, Bold Italicized sentences are excerpts from the poem “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Sylvia Plath Warnings: Swearing, Crying (like, a lot), Kinda long (5.7k words), Haikyuu Timeskip Spoilers

Part of A Sensitivity to Ephemera

Loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream. It was hard-earned. Years of pining and pursuing took place before he ever even saw you in a romantic light. Three years in junior high school and an additional two years in high school. It was hard, but in the end, it was all worth it.

On the journey to what seemingly looked like forever, the name L/N Y/N had been associated with many titles.

Dedicated.

Lovesick.

Brave.

And on occasion, heard in the hushed whispers that echoed through the halls of Aoba Johsai, desperate.

Some part of you gloated once you had proved them all wrong at the end of your second year. It was a quick confession filled with mumbled words and hasty movements. You couldn’t even look the setter straight in the eyes as you mumbled a small “I’ve been in love with you since junior high, and I just needed to get it off my chest since we’ve been friends for a long time, and I felt guilty keeping it a secret from you.”

Impressively, you were able to say all of that in a single breath.

“I know.”

A single breath taken away from you the moment Oikawa Tooru cupped your cheeks and pressed the softest of kisses against your lips.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

In that moment, as you lose yourself in the kiss of a boy you had once considered a distant dream, the world stops and there is nothing left but the warmth of his hands against your skin.

I lift my lids and all is born again.

Suddenly the world was back in motion as Oikawa pulled away from the kiss. Your eyes flutter open and before you, you see chocolate eyes and a charming smile.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N-chan?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Oikawa’s voice. You were brought to the present. Oikawa hugging you from behind as you sit between his legs, an alien movie of sorts playing on your laptop placed on the bed (You didn’t bother checking the title since it was Oikawa’s turn to choose anyway).

“Have the aliens taken my adorable girlfriend and replaced her with a clone?” You can practically see the pout on his face from his tone alone as he wraps his arms tighter around your waist.

Your face warms but you don’t fold as you answer in your most deadpan tone. “I can only wish.”

“How mean.” Oikawa rolls his eyes, but amusement is clearly written on his face. “Iwa-chan is rubbing off on you.”

“Probably cause I’ve known him for as long as I’ve known you.” You answered casually. “Although I’ll admit it’s probably cause I’ve been seeing him more than I’ve been seeing you.”

You were not meant to say that.

You did not mean to say that (out loud, at least).

Especially not with that bitter undertone laced in your words.

“Oh?” You can practically hear the smirk in Oikawa’s voice as he digs his fingers lightly into your sides. “Replacing me with Iwa-chan already? How mean~”

One part of you was thankful that Oikawa chose not to unpack the issue of his recent absences since you weren’t really ready to lay your feelings out in the open yet. However, another part of you realizes that you just dug your own grave, and Oikawa Tooru was probably going to be a little shit about what you just said.

“Maybe you need me to remind you who your boyfriend is?” Oikawa’s lips brush against the shell of your ear and you could feel the tiniest of shivers diffuse throughout your body.

He presses a kiss behind your ear. Your face warms. He follows the previous action with a tender kiss on your neck. You nearly combust.

But of course, for the sake of what’s left of your dignity, you bite back. “Maybe I do.”

You can feel Oikawa grin against your neck, as if he expected nothing less. “Perfect.”

Oikawa turns you around so that you’re straddling him, legs thrown over on both sides as you sit on his lap. He grabs you by your wrists and leads you to wrap your arms around his neck before his hands eventually find purchase on your hips.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And with that, he’s kissing you. It was almost as if he was trying to chase away any thoughts of Iwaizumi from your head with the way he was moving his lips against yours. Oikawa knew that he didn’t have to worry, but he can’t help it. He’d take any opportunity to kiss his girlfriend senseless.

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

Oikawa brings his hand to your nape, pulling you closer, deeper into the kiss, deeper into the dream created by the motion of his lips. There’s a desperation in his actions as if he was trying to make up for something.

And in that moment, you understood. This was his temporary apology. The way his hands trailed from your neck down your arms before it settled on your hips was his way of placating any possible hostility you may hold against him for his recent absence.

You didn’t really mind. You understood that he was busy, but you had the right to miss your boyfriend every now and then. The only thing you could do now was to take as much as you could of Oikawa Tooru before he’s once again pulled back to the whirlwind that is called his life.

Oikawa pulls away for a second before he’s back to pressing kisses on any expanse of skin that he can lay his lip upon without moving from the position you were both in. You were both so lost in your makeout-session--excuse the lack of a better term--that you weren’t able to hear the text notifications from Oikawa’s phone until someone was actually calling him.

“Babe, your phone’s ringing.” You managed to pull away from Oikawa to inform him, but he’s relentless, ignoring what you just said and the phone in favor of trailing kisses up and down your neck.

“Babe--”

Oikawa pulls away for a second. “Ignore it, they’ll probably give up soon.”

You roll your eyes and go back to kissing your boyfriend. You guys were getting back to the groove of things until it was once again interrupted by the ringing of Oikawa’s phone.

A groan of frustration leaves Oikawa’s throat at the disturbance, and you attempt to hold in your amusement at the irritated look he had on his face as he reached to the side and answered the phone.

“What?” You nearly snorted at how frustrated Oikawa sounded.

However, as the other person answered, that look of frustration was replaced with a softer gaze which made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. The stream of confusion only grew when Oikawa patted your thighs, an unspoken request for you to get off him.

“Oh Yuki-chan, what’s up?” A smile was on Oikawa’s face.

The stream of confusion had slowly turned into a murky ocean of several emotions that you had not encountered in a while.

Uncertainty.

Insecurity.

Fear.

You knew only one Yuki, and that was Fujimoto Yuki. The darling of the school, loved by all who meet her for her beauty and gentle nature. Oikawa’s friend.

Oikawa’s ex-girlfriend.

“Sure! Library on the second floor, and same time as always?” Oikawa talks animatedly for a second before freezing as if he was realizing where he was. When he speaks again, it’s softer, but there’s a hint of restraint in his tone as if he was trying not to show just how overjoyed he was.

Your heart sinks for a second before you mentally slap yourself. You felt guilty for feeling some dislike for the girl that Oikawa was talking to, but some part of you felt that you were justified in your dislike considering that this was your boyfriend’s ex. His ex who broke up with him because he was too invested in volleyball.

You felt sick.

A few moments pass and Oikawa ends the call. An awkward silence fills the room. Neither of you talk.

“I’ve been--”

“Was that--”

You both speak at the same time. You gesture for Oikawa to speak first and he does.

“I’ve been tutoring Yuki-chan recently.” Oikawa sounds uncertain.It was as if he was walking on eggshells with how cautious he was being. “If you’re wondering.”

“Fujimoto Yuki?” You sat against the wall that your bed was pressed to. “Your ex?”

“My friend.” Oikawa winces at the tone in your voice.

You try to make sense of what’s going on, One part of you wanted to let out all the negative feelings that were bubbling in your chest, but the more logical part of you chose to tread carefully so that the conversation doesn’t end in an argument. “Is that why you haven’t been around these past few weeks?”

Oikawa’s breath hitches for a second. “Yeah.”

“Stop being so defensive then.” You mask the uncertainty that gripped at your chest with a teasing tone accompanied by a playful jab to Oikawa’s shoulder. “They’re just tutoring sessions, right?”

Oikawa takes the path of escape that you opened up for him as he gives you a small smile. “Yeah.”

For now, you were at ease. You crawled back into his arms and Oikawa doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you before he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you.” You breathe out on his neck, heart racing with both love and fear racing through your veins.

Oikawa stills before he squeezes you tighter. “I know.”

That moment in your bedroom was now a thing of the distant past. It was forgotten, buried under several layers of denial. Looking back, you realized that the turmoil you felt then was nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated agony that threatened to rip you open at the present.

“Argentina?” You mumbled to yourself, repeating it in hopes that you’ll be able to make sense of what Oikawa had just said. “You’re going to Argentina in a month, and you’re only telling me now?”

Oikawa reached out to you, regret painted all over his face. “Babe-“

“Don’t-“ You pushed his hand away, and you almost felt guilty as a glassy veil took over Oikawa’s eyes, “-touch me.”

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa looks down, clenching his fists so tightly that he almost broke through the skin. “I didn’t want to ruin the remaining time we had left.”

You frowned, extremely confused. “What do you mean remaining-“

Ah. A look of realization settles on your face, and suddenly the fight within you dies. I get it now.

“So you just planned on leaving me then?” For the first time since the start of this conversation, you look Oikawa dead in the eye. “Leave me behind, no closure or anything. I’ll be left wondering where I went wrong or why I wasn’t enough. Is that it?”

You could see the tear roll down Oikawa’s cheek before he hastily wipes it away. Your jaw clenched and your throat felt tight. He had no right to cry when you were the one being left behind.

“I didn’t want to hurt you-”

“And look where we are, Tooru.” You hissed venomously, the pain slowly transitioning into anger. “I would’ve understood you know? I’d be more than willing to make it work-“

The split-second widening of Oikawa’s eyes was enough of an answer to you.

“Oh.” Your mouth opens and closes, but no words leave your mouth. The next thing you know, you’re choking on your tears as you lean against the wall, sliding down to the floor as you gasp for air.

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he immediately rushes to kneel beside you. He pulls you into his arms, rubbing your back gently as he urges you to let it all out. “Fuck, Y/N. Just breathe, okay? Let it all out.”

An ugly sob wretches itself from your throat and you can only grip onto the sleeves of Tooru’s sweater to ground yourself to the world around you. Your head pounds, and a sharp pain repeatedly stabs at your chest as you hold onto Oikawa Tooru as if he was the only thing keeping you afloat in the ocean of your turmoil.

“I’m so sorry.” Oikawa murmurs against your hair, and it is followed by his tears as they drop onto your head. “God, I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

Oikawa’s sobs are beginning to match your own as he tightens his hold around you.

All you can focus on is the fact that he said “I love you”.

It took a few minutes for both of you to calm down. Numerous tears had to be shed and endless sobs had to be released, and now, you both sit in the aftermath of your confrontation.

Oikawa still held you in his arms as he sat on the floor. His arms were still tight around your waist, and your arms were still locked around his neck. The perfect picture depicting two inseparable lovers if only one were willing to ignore tear-stained cheeks and the creases of sadness that seem to have etched itself onto their skin.

“I’m gonna come back.” Oikawa mumbles against your neck before he presses a soft kiss onto it. “I promise you. I will come back.”

“Go chase your dream, Tooru.” You mumble back as you bury your head deeper into his shoulder, lip trembling, fingers shaking. “I don’t want to be the one to stop you.”

“When I come back, I’ll win.” Oikawa tightens his hold as the tears threaten to fall from his eyes once more. “I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

You smile sadly, resignation settling into your veins. “I’ll be watching so you better win.”

Oikawa smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s too guilty. Too conflicted. Too absorbed in his self-deprecation to fully smile. Regardless, he answers. “I promise.”

A month passes by. You don’t send Oikawa off. Only his friends and family were there, and you were nowhere to be found. Some part of him died at your absence, but another part of him was thankful because he probably wouldn’t have mustered the courage to get on that plane if he had to watch you slowly slip away from his grasp

You had both agreed that you’d enjoy the last month together. Oikawa thought it was best that you broke it off when he left for Argentina. He said it would be easier for you. You wondered if he was right. You wondered if you should’ve agreed. Oikawa was smart on and off the court, but emotions weren’t volleyballs that he could just toss around. Relationships weren’t game plans.

But it’s all in the past. From here on, you could only move forward. So you took up all you had, and you moved to Tokyo after you were accepted to a university in the capital.

The only connection you had left from your high school days was Iwaizumi. On occasion you’d talk to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, but it was Iwaizumi who had a more prominent role in your life. You had a strange bond, which was partially strengthened by the fact that you two were the people closest to Oikawa Tooru, and you were both left behind. The only difference between the two of you was that Iwaizumi still had contact with the setter while you had completely cut off all ties.

Aside from one tie, at least. From time to time, you’d find yourself looking through Oikawa’s social media profile. Just checking to see how he was doing.

If he was doing as badly as you were or if he had moved on.

It was what you were doing right now as you sat in a cafe waiting for Iwaizumi to show up to your usual “friendly” dates. The dates he liked to call “get Y/N’s dumb ass to move on from the dumbass called Shittykawa”. You were just about to click on Oikawa’s profile before someone suddenly took your phone.

It was Iwaizumi.

“Damn, what’s your problem?” You raised a brow as the former Seijoh ace took a sip from your coffee as he scrolled through your account, sitting down on the chair across from you. In all honesty, calling it a sip was an understatement, the man practically drank half of the cup’s content. Your eyebrow twitched in irritation.

“It’s unhealthy.” Iwaizumi answered once he had set the cup of coffee down, still scrolling through your phone.

“How is social media unhealthy?” You rolled your eyes, grumbling as you sipped what’s left of your coffee. “I’m just scrolling.”

“Makes you less productive.” Iwaizumi shrugs as he leans back on his chair, pointing an accusatory glace towards you. “Especially when you’re checking your ex’s Instagram.”

“I was not--”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Yes you were.”

“Yes I was.” You admitted, giving up since you knew that Iwaizumi was probably more stubborn than you.

“Y/N, you have to stop.” Iwaizumi tears his eyes from your phone for a second to emphasize his words. A look of concern along with something unreadable flashing through his eyes. “What’s the point of not communicating with him if you’re still gonna look at his profile every night.”

“Not every night.” You grumbled.

Iwaizumi scoffed and continued to scroll through your phone. Some part of him was also curious about Oikawa’s current life, and while he got updates from the setter through the calls, he hasn’t really seen his best friend’s profile in a while. “When’s the last time you checked—“

Iwaizumi stops himself as his eyes land on Oikawa’s most recent post and the caption attached to it.

‘Guess who I bumped into today’

When Oikawa Tooru left for Argentina, he had already accepted that it would be a fresh start. No one knew him there, and no one he knew was there. There were no expectations, and there was no image to uphold. And while that thought made him ecstatic beyond words, there’s always that melancholic undertone to the situation as he realizes that he’s completely alone. Sure, he had friends that he could play volleyball with, but Oikawa’s connection with them wasn’t as deep as the ones he formed in his own country. He chalked it up to his subpar Spanish-speaking skills. Perhaps the heavens knew that Oikawa Tooru, born with a silver-tongue and the face and body of a god, would be unstoppable if he knew how to speak Spanish fluently.

Which is why he was so shocked to see a familiar face holding a tray of food and asking if she could sit with him. The place was empty and the girl could literally sit anywhere, but Oikawa paid it no mind. All he knew was that before him was a reminder of home. Not home home, but Miyagi kind of home.

He never truly felt at home since her, but he didn’t want to dwell on that.

“So Yuki-chan,” Oikawa starts as he notes how the girl in front of him has changed since high school, “What brings you to Argentina?”

“School.” Yuki replies, an eager grin on her face as she looks at the man in front of her. “I needed a change of scenery.”

“Why Argentina?” Oikawa raises a brow. It was a harmless question on his end. He never really liked small talk, but he didn’t really have a choice. The woman across from him was practically a stranger. That’s what it felt like, at least.

Red floods Yuki’s cheeks and Oikawa realizes the implication.

His heart stops, and he wishes he had never asked. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want this. He genuinely hoped he was wrong, but the fidgety way Yuki moved and the way she bit down on her lip out of habit was enough to answer his question. Oikawa was familiar with that look. It was a look he had always put an effort to bring about when they were still together.

Yuki smiles, practically wearing her heart on her sleeve as she answers the setter. “Because you’re here.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Oikawa Tooru’s life was in Argentina, and you decided that maybe it was time to start accepting that. He had the path all ready for him, and all he had to do was walk through it. He’s earning decent money, living in a decent apartment, doing what he loves most—probably in more ways than one, you thought bitterly as you remembered the post Iwaizumi had shown you earlier in the cafe—and it’s all just working out for him.

So yes, maybe it was time to move on. It would be easy. If loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream, then so be it. Dreams were fleeting. Dreams were insignificant. All you needed to do was treat the memory of him the way you should be treating it. An unreachable reality. A product of the subconscious.

And with his absence, it has never been easier.

If only.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi cleared his throat to speak, mildly unsettled by your choice to call him by his name. You guys were walking down a dimly-lit alley, and he wouldn’t be surprised if that would be the last alley he ever sees considering the tone you used. “Yes?”

“I guess I have to wake up now, huh?”

Iwaizumi is baffled. Confused. Discombobulated. Genuinely wondering what you meant because maybe the heartbreak finally drove you insane. “The fuck?”

“Damn I was trying to be poetic too.” You gave an exaggerated sigh, a small amused smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Do I look like I care?” Iwaizumi’s eye twitched.

“You’ll never get girls to like you if you’re so harsh, Iwa-chan~” You teased, attempting to lighten the mood. “It’s a miracle that Fuyumi-chan still likes you.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t need other girls to like him. He didn’t need Sato Fuyumi’s one-sided affection. This. This moment was enough.

Years pass and you find yourself in the locker room of Japan’s Olympic Volleyball Team, supporting their trainer the way bridesmaids support the bride on her wedding day. You knew how much the match meant to Iwaizumi, and you knew that win or lose, he’d still be happy with whatever happens. However, Iwaizumi still has a competitive streak, and you knew that hell would have to freeze over before Iwaizumi Hajime stopped chasing victory.

“You nervous?” You asked, eyes trailing after Iwaizumi’s pacing form. His eyebrows were pinched together, and his lips were pulled into a straight line. “The match is in 30 minutes.”

“Don’t remind me.” Iwaizumi groans as he plops down on the bench beside you.

“They’ll be fine.” You smiled. “You’ve trained them well, and they’ve been giving their all.”

“What if we lose?” Iwaizumi asks, uncertainty lacing his voice.

You scoffed. “You’re probably used to it considering your old rivalry with Ushijima-san-“

Iwaizumi punches your arm.

“Hey that hurt!” You glared at the trainer while you attempted to soothe the point of impact.

“Good, it was meant to.” Iwaizumi smirks before it fades into a soft smile. A distant look glazes over his eyes before he continues speaking. “He’ll be there, you know.”

I fancied you’d return the way you said

“I know.” You shrugged. After so many years, the pain had become a dull ache. It may have been dull, but it was an ache nonetheless. “He did promise.”

Silence fills the room.

“Are you ready to face him?” Iwaizumi turns to look at you, attempting to gauge your reaction only to be met with a blank expression painted onto your face.

“Honestly,” You almost scoff as you start your lie with that word, “I think I’ll be better off not seeing him.”

Silence takes over.

You didn’t want to admit that you never truly moved on. You didn’t want to admit that all those years apart only made you better at hiding how devastated you were. While it’s true that the pain has dulled out, it seemed to be chronic. It’s manageable most of the time, but there are days where it flares up when you’re alone in your room and no one’s there to call you stupid for holding on. It always hits you as hard as it did in the past, sometimes it gets even worse. You were afraid that saying it out loud would solidify itself into your waking reality, not that it hasn’t, but you’d take whatever chance of denial you could get.

Loving Oikawa Tooru was no dream. It was a nightmare on repeat and you showed no signs of waking up.

The nightmare just got worse the moment he stepped onto the court and on your hopes of ever moving on. It grew out of control when he stepped off, victory smiling down on his figure, and his eyes were set on you.

So you did what you deemed to be the best course of action.

You ran away.

Kind of stupid now that you think about it, considering that your were quite literally running away from an Olympic athlete.

But I grow old and I forget your name

“Oikawa-san.” You bowed slightly before straightening up. You didn’t have a choice other than to act civil considering that the athlete cornered you in the corner of an empty hallway. “Congratulations on your victory.”

When you look up at Oikawa, you’re shocked to see the pain written on his face. His lips were parted, eyebrows were furrowed, and there was a glassy sheen glazing over his eyes. “Oikawa-san?”

Hearing his voice almost made you want to burst into tears, but you didn’t fold, choosing to clench your fists and grit your teeth in hopes that you’ll be able to keep your composure. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Oikawa’s mouth falls open fully, and unlike you, he’s not putting any effort into masking any emotion. He looked like he didn’t know what to say. It seemed that he wasn’t expecting the situation before him. “I’m sorry.”

You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes. You avert your gaze from his, turning it to the floor and hoping that he wouldn’t be able to see the tears that began to form. For a second, it felt like you were reliving your third year in high school. “You kept your promise. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Oikawa reaches out towards you. “I’m sorry for leaving-”

“Don’t.” You hissed as you moved away, the last shreds of civility escaping your body. “If you didn’t leave you wouldn’t be here today, so don’t.”

“It was hard without you.” Oikawa sounds defeated as speaks. If he had a goal in mind when he cornered you, it seemed that the said goal was now out of reach. The flame in his eyes when he approached you was slowly dwindling. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve listened to you and made it work-”

You could feel your head starting to pound. “Oikawa, don’t-”

Oikawa continues speaking, fim, determined. “Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if I still had you by my side even if you were halfway across the world-”

You could feel your throat constricting as the tears began to fall from your eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if I had asked you to come with me-”

Yuki’s face flashes through your mind, and you break. “Can you just stop?!”

Oikawa looked like he expected that from you because he was unfazed at your tone. “I’ve been away from you for almost seven years, and every night was hell.”

“Every night was hell, as if.” You hissed through your tears, stepping away from Oikawa as you gave him the darkest glare you could muster. “You had Fujimoto at your side. You didn’t need me.”

For some reason, instead of the guilt that you were looking to find, you saw a rekindled flame slowly starting to blaze through his eyes. “I only met Fujimoto once.”

“I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t need your explanation.” You replied sharply as you turned your gaze to his shoes.

You don’t pull away when Oikawa pulls you to his chest to surround you with his embrace. You allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, just this one moment before you decided that it was time to let go.

You grip at his shirt as you speak, lip trembling, fingers shaking. “Just… I’m trying to move on, and you’re just making it harder for me.”

“What if I don't want you to move on?” Oikawa tightens his grip as he feels you attempt to pull away.

“Then you’re a selfish asshole.” You managed to hiss out, continuing to struggle in his hold. You knew that the longer you were in his arms, the less you would be willing to put up a fight.

“I love you.” Oikawa whispers, and all the fight within you dies.

“Don’t.” You choke out as your vision turns blurry from tears. “You don’t mean that.”

“I mean it. God, if it means that I have to tell you everyday, every hour, every minute just to convince you I will.” Oikawa is firm as he pulls away and looks you straight in the eyes. “I love you. I didn’t say it enough back then. Looking back, I never really did enough to let you know just how much I loved you. I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but please--”

Oikawa stops to close his eyes, taking a deep breath as he attempts to calm his racing heart, hands trembling as he holds you by the curve of your biceps. “Please, give me another chance.”

Silence engulfs the two of you.

You can feel the blood rushing to your head, throbbing, pulsing as you take in the words that had left Oikawa’s lips. Your throat goes dry, your limbs feel weightless, and for once in your life, you don’t know what to do. You didn’t have the guts to push Oikawa Tooru away. You loved him too much to ever truly get over him, and here he was presenting you a reason to not move on from his unyielding presence--even if he was physically absent--that had such a great influence over your life. On the other hand, you’ve had to endure years of heartbreak caused by his departure, and you weren’t sure if you could handle any more. It would be too difficult.

But you didn’t really give a shit anymore.

Oikawa's eyes blow wide open as your lips meet his. In that moment, he felt everything and nothing all at once. The world around him fades, and all he can focus on is the warmth of your hands that bleeds into his cheeks, the movement of your lips against his, and the feeling of your skin underneath his fingers as he kisses you back desperately.

When you pull away to catch your breath, Oikawa gives you a second before he presses you to the wall, wraps one arm around your waist, and rests his weight on one palm beside your head. He kisses you once more, desperation, regret, apology, and the promise of a better future bleeding through his kisses as he pulls you closer to his body, chest to chest, with only bone, muscle, and cloth to separate the hearts that--in the beginning of days--may have once belonged to the same body.

The waves calm and Oikawa speaks. He doesn’t ask--no--he says it with his whole chest, unwavering as conviction settles itself into his dark eyes.

“Come to Argentina with me.”

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes back they roar again.

Iwaizumi is leaning against the wall, smiling sadly to himself as he begins to stand up straight, preparing to walk away, whether it was from the venue or from the reason there’s a slight pang in his chest, he didn’t know.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and a familiar name is shown along with a message that he deemed was the sender’s attempt to comfort him on his team’s loss.

Sato Fuyumi

I watched the game [5:31 PM]

You guys fought well so don’t be too down in the dumps, okay? [5:32 PM]

Iwaizumi smiles a little as he pockets the phone. Sato was right, they fought well, he fought well. Two years in middle school, three years in high school, and nearly seven years after, all he did was fight and hold on.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead

For a second, Iwaizumi closes his eyes and through them he sees flashes of countless memories: locks of hair, teary eyes, and the saddest face that looked a little out of place for someone who gave him a reason to smile.

Iwaizumi almost didn’t want to open his eyes. Maybe if he shut them a little longer then the images of an impossible future would become the reality of his waking world, but he knew it would never play out like that. Deep in his mind, in the darker corners of his head that was covered by layers of denial, the distant memory of a dimly-lit alley plays in his head. Iwaizumi scoffs as he realizes that he wasn’t the only one who still had their eyes shut.

(I think I made you up inside my head)

A lifeless chuckle escapes Iwaizumi’s lips as he tries to shut his eyes tighter, pain and frustration pooling underneath his lids. The realization hits him, and he resists the urge to cry because he had seen this happening before it even did, but he was too stubborn to admit it, too caught up in a dream that he’d eventually be violently ripped awake from.

Oikawa Tooru defeated him twice that day.

And the second loss was more painful.

A/N: I finally posted this one AHHHHH. I like to think that the writing style I used in this one was better than my previous ones in terms of imagery, but I don’t know, I’m still trying to find a solid writing style and PHEW it is difficult. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this one!

#oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #genre.angstfluff #cont.spoilers #tw swearing #tw angst

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