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toji-girl · 3 months

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come back to me 1 | pro hero k. bakugo

tags: you two are divorced and parents + angst + repost from my old blog + this part and all the others have been edited to add more

part two | part three | part four

Loud squealing could be heard coupled with loud laughter and heavy footsteps when you knocked on Katsuki’s door. It was the Monday following his weekend with your children and you dreaded this.

Not that you would ever keep Aya and Kouki away from their dad, after all, they are a lot alike. "Mommy!" Aya cried when she was the first one to open the door followed by Katsuki who was dressed up as a villain of sorts if you had to guess.

It's just seeing the only man you ever loved after such a painful divorce that made your heart ache and twist in your chest, and not in a good way either.

They were clearly in the middle of playtime and your stomach dropped. Your ex-husband stood behind his mini him, the little one who looks so much like him down to the resting mean face. "I told you not to open the door without me present my princess." He grumbled with a huff.

"I knew it was mommy though!" She shot back with a little bit of an attitude and waited until you crouched down before wrapping her small arms around your neck followed by her older brother who was dressed as a hero and came running towards you.

Katsuki watched you hug your babies who weren't babies anymore, with Kouki who just turned seven, and Aya five. "I was able to beat the villain and save the princess!" He announced proudly with a smile.

You raised an eyebrow and laughed looking at them and stood up as they both looked at each other. “I’m glad you guys are having fun. Are you two ready to go? It’s getting late and a thunderstorm is going to start very soon so we need to get back before it starts.”

“Can we stay a little longer, please? We still have to finish this and have dinner.” Aya asked, her bottom lip jutted out perfecting the perfect pout to try and persuade it to fall in her favor, her red eyes turned glassy making you nod your head in agreement.

Your eyebrows knitted together a bit as you stood up and looked at Katsuki. You really didn’t want to stay any longer and have to be around the man who has seen every fiber of who you are, and the part that sucked is you still love him so much it hurts at times.

It took him a while for him to admit he liked you but the day he did you'll never forget it, it was the night of high school graduation when he pulled you into an empty classroom to tell you how he felt.

From there you both spent a lot more time together, eventually, he was your first kiss and first everything, he's the only man you've been with and you don't think you're quite ready to get with someone else.

When you got pregnant at the tender age of nineteen, a year after high school it only made sense to get married and you were highly in love with Katsuki but later it all came crumbling down when his job took precedence over everything in his life, including his family.

He’s still madly in love with you and has been since middle school, during his time at UA the relationship was strained a bit as you didn’t go there and his dream of being a pro hero meant everything to him but he still did his best in spending time with you.

Four years into the marriage it was to the point that you couldn’t bear it anymore, no matter how many conversations you had to have about it nothing ever changed and you couldn’t hold him back either.

At the age of twenty-three, you found yourself a single mother with two children.

“If you want I’d never tell you no, it wouldn’t hurt to have dinner as a family.” Katsuki said with a slight grunt as he watched you step inside the house you two bought years ago. You kicked your shoes off and scooped up your children kissing their cheeks with a soft smile.

You followed the blonde male into the kitchen and sat Kouki and Aya down in their chairs at the table. The room smelled delicious, yet another thing you missed about Katsuki then your mind filled with painful memories of spending time dancing in the kitchen.

Aya watched and followed you once you departed from the table, her tiny fist curled into your pant leg. “Did Daddy tell you he has a girlfriend?” She asked looking up at you with an innocent smile.

Your heart sunk to your stomach like a rock being thrown into a lake. It seems he’s moved on and there’s nothing wrong with it because you were the one to ask for the divorce. “No he didn’t, is she nice to you?” You asked in return hoping your voice didn't creak or break.

It's been three years since the divorce and it only made sense for him to move on, you didn't blame him but that didn't lessen the pain you felt, it was a never-ending soft pulsing pain that stung.

Katsuki stared at his daughter while making the plates, it was something he wanted to share with you privately but it seems like now is the best time. He could see it clear as day the pain in your eyes and wondered why you felt such a way after divorcing him.

“She is yes! She takes Kouki and me to school and makes desserts!” Aya replied not understanding how that could affect you in such a manner.

Katsuki cleared his throat and made the table. “Sit down, Aya.” He told her.

His voice was soft but still something you didn’t want to argue with. Your bottom lip wobbled a bit as your stomach curled. “How would you two like it if you were able to stay with your dad one more day? I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” You asked with a soft smile that was fake.

The air felt thick inside your lungs, like it was mud and breathing was no longer an option. You needed to get out of there before you broke down in a fit of tears and the last thing you wanted was for your kids to see such a thing. You knew why it hurt still. You love Katsuki.

“You don’t have -” Katsuki began then cut off at the eager nod of their heads at the prospect of being able to stay. You smiled and kissed their foreheads and swiftly gave each a tight hug before pulling away to stand up.

You looked at Katsuki and then down at your plate, you were starving but wouldn't be able to stay any longer to eat, and he was right, it would be nice to have a family dinner until the bomb was dropped.

Was it a bit cowardly to run away? Perhaps.

But you couldn't help how you felt about him. You'd always love him no matter what.

Aya dug into her food as did your son thanking their dad for everything. "Before the storm hits I gotta go, and my apartment is about thirty minutes away anyway." You explained and turned your attention back to your children.

"I'll see you two tomorrow morning then, be good and make sure you listen well to your daddy." Your voice wavered with unshed emotions, and being by yourself meant you could get the chance to calm down and think about him moving on.

With another handful of hugs and forehead kisses, you walked to the front door to slip your shoes on and open the door only for it to be shut, and Katsuki's arm next to your head as he stood behind you so close you could feel his warmth and smell his cologne and him.

His chest brushed against your back when he took in a deep breath. "Don't go. The kids don't want you to go, you can sleep in ou- my bed and I'll take the couch, it's raining already anyway, so stay here."

You cleared your throat and turned to look at him, but instead, your gaze dropped down to the faded text of his Pro Hero name on his shirt. It was one you've worn too many times to count. "I'll take the couch then and we'll head out after breakfast then."

#katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #Katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugo x reader #Bakugo x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #Katsuki x you #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki

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sebastianstanisahotmf · 5 months

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Grinch

Tony Stark x reader

A/N I'm so sorry for being so unorganised I thought something like this would be easy but I realised that it takes a ridiculous amount of planning so next time when I do an event like this I'll plan it for a couple more weeks in advance, but at least I can learn from this mistake. The last few fics for my 100 followers celebration SHOULD be coming out over the next few days so thank you for your patience. Also, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Summary Tony is a bit of a Grinch and you plan to change it

DO NOT REPOST ONTO ANY OTHER APPS/WEBSITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff

Christmas wasn’t Tony’s favourite time of year, if anything he hated it. It wasn’t hard to understand since he had spent many years alone as each day bled into another with the drink, drugs and women.

However, you were determined to get Tony into the Christmas spirit this year. The first step of your plan was to take him shopping for decorations.

“Come on Tony, stop being such a grinch, we're going shopping whether you like it or not,” you told him with your arms crossed.

“I can just get F.R.I.D.A.Y to order them for us,” he retorted with a pout on his face.

You walked over to him and kissed his pouty lips, “It will be fun babe, I promise,” you gave him the sweetest smile you could conjure.

“Fine, only because I love you,” he responded, kissing you again.

“And I love you too,” you grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out the door.

-------------------------------------------

“What do you think of these baubles?” you asked Tony.

“They look good, they’ll go with the tree,” he replied.

Tony wasn’t ready to admit it, but he had started getting into the Christmas spirit. He was starting to enjoy this shopping spree that he almost didn’t join you on.

“We’ll get these then,” you put them in the basket with a smile on your face.

You noticed Tony’s new interest in the decorations which was unexpected but made you happy.

“I think that’s it for this shop,” you walked over to the till and Tony emptied the basket.

------------------------------------------------------------

Two hours of shopping later, you were back home with countless bags spread across the living room.

“Please can you help me decorate?” you asked Tony.

You walked over to him and sat in his lap, “Pleeeease.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “You owe me,” he told you with a playful smirk.

You smiled and grabbed his hand. You took him over to the tree you put up in the corner of the living room and handed Tony a box of baubles.

“Put them anywhere you think it looks good,” you told him.

He raised his eyebrow, “really?”

“Yeah. I’m aware that I’m a perfectionist on everything else but I promise decorating the tree is supposed to be fun, not perfect.”

You both took baubles out of the box and put them on the branches. Around 40 minutes -and a lot of messing around- you were finished.

“Oh shit,” you exclaimed.

“What?” Tony asked, concerned.

“We forgot to put the lights on the tree.”

Tony looked at the tree and then at the lights on the floor, “I could still get them on, I’ll just have to be careful,” With that, Tony picked up the string of lights and carefully put them around the tree.

Once he was finished, he pulled back to look at the tree but had knocked five baubles off in doing so.

“Shit!” he shouted which made you laugh, “It’s not funny,” he told you whilst trying to hold in his laugh.

“I think it looks amazing babe,” you said.

“Me too, but I’m tired. We can finish decorating tomorrow, ” Tony feinforced this with the fakest yawn you've ever seen.

“Seems like it,” you grabbed the other decorations and put them in a box ready for the next day.

Then, Tony got onto the couch and started to flick through the channels on the tv before deciding to look through Netflix.

You walked over to Tony and smiled at his concentrated face.

He looked up at you and mentioned with a smirk on his face, “You owe me still.”

“What do I owe you Tones?” you didn’t know what answer to expect since Tony was so unpredictable.

“You owe me cuddles on the couch while we watch the Grinch,” he said, grabbing a blanket and shuffling back on the couch.

“One, you are the Grinch and two, that sounds fair,” you replied, smiling and getting onto the couch. Tony just rolled his eyes in response.

You shuffled back so Tony was spooning you and his chin was resting on your head. He threw the blanket over you and kissed your head. You both stayed like that until you fell asleep.

If you want to be tagged whenever I post a fic then click on the link

If you want to see what I repost, my other account is @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

Taglist:@nicoline1998enilocin, @hisredheadedgoddess28, @kandis-mom, @nekoannie-chan

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andavs · 12 days

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @thekristen999

How many works do you have on ao3? 21

What's your total ao3 word count? 380,201

What fandoms do you write for? Working on some 911 that I haven’t actually posted yet, and Teen Wolf, which has shifted to the back burner because Eddie Diaz took over my brain.

Top five fics by kudos: A Crooked Way to Fly Tabula Rasa Gift Trapped From Ashes The Guard and Red

Do you respond to comments? I fully intend to. And then my inbox is full of comment notifications from six years ago. I'm sorry I know I suck!!!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don’t think I’ve written an angsty ending?

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of them, I think.

Do you get hate on fics? Occasionally someone will say they didn’t like the ending of Tabula Rasa, but that’s it. And I get it.

Do you write smut? Nah. Once I found out that the actors had seen my art (for both Teen Wolf and 911), that fourth wall imploded in my mind and now it makes me too uncomfortable.

Craziest crossover: I haven’t done proper crossovers, but I did a Sterek Shrek AU one time that was unexpected.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of. Someone once took a sketch, colored it in, and reposted it as their OCs, but that’s the closest.

Have you ever had a fic translated? I think so? I know people have asked to translate them, but I never actually checked after.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? As in putting my own words in a doc, no. But @petals42 and I collaborated a lot with brainstorming and plotting, and then she did the writing and I did the art.

All time favourite ship? To write? Tied between Sterek and Buddie. But I also love Veronica and Logan from Veronica Mars, and John and Aeryn in Farscape, even though I’ve never wanted to write or really read fic for them.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My Teen Wolf season one rewrite! Stiles is Derek’s age and a deputy, and he and Derek knew each other in high school. I still love it, it was just a monster and I haven’t been in that mode for a long time. I still have hope! I want to! If only for my own satisfaction.

What are your writing strengths? I’ve been told I’m pretty good at in character dialogue, at least with Stiles’ voice, and that’s the part I enjoy the most.

What are your writing weaknesses? Descriptions and like…actual, genuine emotions, I think. Whenever I try to write the heavier stuff, it feels way too melodramatic and then I cut it way back to the point where it’s basically gone.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? If there’s plenty of context around it so you can get the gist of what they’re saying, then it’s okay. Like in Oceans how Yen never speaks a word of English, but everyone else’s responses tell you what he was saying. Otherwise I tend to prefer things like, “He said in Spanish,” or “They argued in Spanish for a minute.”

First fandom you wrote in? Either Alex Rider or School of Rock. 😬

Favourite fic you've written? I still really like this outsider pov fic. I fucking love outsider pov. I have a 911 outsider pov that’s been mostly done for like two years, but then I realized the actual team isn’t in it enough to make people want to read it, so it's just kind of sitting there.

Tagging: @kitkatpancakestack @wellhalesbells @mad-madam-m @tawaifeddiediaz @cinematicnomad @zainclaw

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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

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Making Headlines [Part 16]

Words: 4.4k+ Summary: The truth comes up. Warnings: Rich people being their privileged selves. Fem!Reader. Lying/being lied to for years. Lack of proofreading - I did the best I could. Parts: Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen [Series Masterlist]

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

You've noticed how your sleep has been getting lighter with time. You’ve started finding yourself waking up to the soft sound of the rain hitting the windows, a little bit of a harsher wind hitting the glass, and, especially, whenever he’s walking through your apartment.

Only after noticing the familiar pattern of the steps on your hardwood floors or tiles, and possibly speaking to him for mere seconds, your sleep goes back to being how it usually is, deeper and heavier.

And, just as expected, tonight, you get to wake up with that exact noise. You keep your eyes closed, listening to Bruce's steps getting closer to your bedroom. You wait it out, and the sound stops as you assume he has gotten to your bedroom door.

In no time, you feel the bed dip next to you and a hand is laid on your hip. You open your eyes and stare back at him. Bruce’s hair has a few drops of water from the rain, his clothes are their usual black and the rest of his face is lost in the room’s darkness. He's sitting just beside your laying body, at the side of the bed.

You lay your land on top of his on your hip and look up to your bedside table, checking the time.

“You did not just wake me up at 3:30AM.” You whisper at him.

You hear his exhale through his nose, obviously finding your complaint amusing, and look back at him. He moves his head, not noticing your stare, and looks out of the large windowed wall of your bedroom. You watch him as the city lights escape through the crack of your curtains and illuminate his face for you.

Bruce is more than distracted. The lights in the distance are able to almost bring him into a trance, and you’re not able to pull him out of it. You look out as well, trying to understand what he’s looking at, but before you do, Bruce looks away and smooths his hand over your side.

“You better go to sleep.” You tell him. “I have an early meeting tomorrow, and you are not ruining my mood for that.”

He doesn’t answer verbally again but he does get back up from the bed. You notice the way your skin loses warmth as his hand is pulled away and watch as his figure moves before you. You watch him, almost lost in the dark room, and he pulls his shirt off himself, as well as the rest of his clothes.

When Bruce lays down on the bed, you’re quick to get closer. Your eyes meet for just a little bit, and Bruce is unable to see a lot of your face as he’s the one facing the light this time. You watch him, though, without a problem, and it’s ridiculous how easy it is to see it.

Another bruise. One just right at the end of his jaw. One someone probably wouldn't even notice if his skin wasn’t so fair or, really, if they weren’t looking to find one - just like you do.

Your hand lifts and lays near the bruised skin, your fingers carefully brushing over it. Bruce stares at your dark shadowed form as you do it, all while he curses himself out in his head for not even trying to hide the bruise he absolutely forgot that he had. He doesn’t freeze or get ready to get bombarded with questions, he knows you won’t ask anything. You have never done that, and he knows that you’ve seen every single one of them.

Maybe Bruce should feel guilty for not telling you the truth, but, deep down, he knows that he doesn’t feel this way because he will tell you the truth eventually. Only when the time seems right and whenever things calm down in both of your lives. Only then he will tell you and he does not have one thought that could ever make him change his mind about this.

He will have to endure your comforting and silence about his scars and his bruises until then and endure the possibility of any feeling of pity or worry as well. He will have to see the way you stare at them as you always do and then the way you force yourself to look away and act normal. The way your smooth hands move comfortingly past them. So softly that Bruce swears the pain disappears when he feels them.

Your acrylic nails brush through his hair next, all of it as your way of faking ever noticing the bruise on his face. Bruce quickly lifts his head off the pillow and lays his lips against yours. Your head continues to rest on your pillow as your lips move against his, and your hand on his hair moves to the nape of his neck.

The kiss is soft and careful for both of you. Bruce lays his arm beside your body, hovering over you more comfortingly, and your back now lays on the bed. Your lips separate, and the two of you directly stare at one another. Only one visible side of both your faces, but enough for the two of you.

Your fingers move through the shorter strands of Bruce’s hair,, and you notice him looking over to your bedside table. He closes the space between you one more time and kisses you.

When separating on this one kiss, Bruce won't have you awake for any more minutes due to tomorrow’s events on your schedule. So, he lays back down beside you. Not yet comfortable with the position, and before you can even process it, Bruce flips you with him and makes you lay half of your body on his.

One of your hands lay over his chest, and Bruce’s arm holds you securely close to him. You close your eyes, ignoring all of your possible saddening thoughts, and force yourself to feel your need to rest. Bruce stares out of the window once more and watches as the Bat logo still shines in the clouds of the storming night. He stares at it and rests his head on yours as he does so.

In the space of a few minutes, Bruce feels you entirely relax next to him, and his eyes keep trained on the outside. His arm around you doesn’t hold you in any way less tight, and his hand has begun to move on the side of your body all over again. His body, by continuously sensing and understanding who leans against him and whose peaceful exhales hit his skin, relaxes and, very slowly, makes Bruce fall asleep.

Bruce’s eyes close and, together, the two of you sleep your entire night holding one another.

(...)

“Thank you, everyone.” You say, dismissively as soon as the meeting comes to an end.

Everyone in question slowly stands from the long conference table, and you stay in place, having been the one to stand first at the head of the table. You watch as all of your workers gather their laptops and other materials to abandon the room patiently.

You offer your best imitation of a pleasant smile every time they look at you and continue to hold your own hands behind your back. Anxiety grows inside of you as you can’t wait for everyone to walk out and leave you with yourself. All while you continue to watch as people talk amongst themselves and offer their goodbyes one last time to you.

You look down at your things inside your bag as it stays open on the floor, just beside your feet, and your heart only beats quicker. Your assistant stays near the open door, thanking everyone as they walk by her to get out of the room, and the two of you stand in almost identical poses. People continue to leave at their own pace, and you sigh to yourself when looking upwards once more.

To say waking up today was hard is a true understatement. It was a cold morning. One where you couldn’t even begin to find the courage to reach for the AC to heat up the room, so, you clung to the bigger man beside you under the blankets instead. It made you lose at least 30 minutes of your morning routine, but, still, it was an awful temperature to wake up to.

It wasn’t until Bruce got up and turned on the heat that you felt obligated to move. And Bruce? Oh, he walked back to bed. He slept some more, which made it seem that he wanted to rub it in your face how he has the privilege of not worrying about work. Your urge to throw a shoe at him only got worse when he had the audacity to go to the kitchen to have breakfast with you. It’s nice of him, sure, but it wasn’t nice when he revealed his plans for the day to you. “Sleep more” He had said.

The little shit.

He watched from the bed as you got ready for work, from dressing up to doing your makeup. He also found it extremely amusing how you spent most of your time choosing the right shoes, and that actually made you send him a glare - to which he grinned at.

You push the memories aside, feeling the corners of your own lips genuinely pull upwards, and watch as the last person walks out of the meeting room. You close your eyes for a second in relief and grab your bag from the floor.

Your assistant moves just as quick. She closes the door right as the last person walks out and closes some of the blinds of the glass walls that face the table. When she turns back to you, she already finds you displaying all of the documents at the table.

It’s pretty interesting to see how serene you look or how gracefully you move when the task can only be stressful in her mind. Your assistant only knows the theme of the job, but her curiosity makes her not hold it in anymore. She begins to walk toward the long table, and her eyes meet the documents. She notices your stare at her, but neither of you says anything.

She knows that you’re looking for various examples of the company's growth and decline. From its extractions and intakes every month. Its growing in popularity when it comes to the attraction of new clientele. Its success with marketing - before and after every new marketing team put in place at the company. Lists of names of all that were in the higher seats of the company when the numbers grew and fell. And an even bigger list of all the names and companies that your company has ever been in touch or partnered with for the past years.

The documents fill the table, yet you continue to pull out more of them from your other bag, just behind your chair. You never say anything to your assistant, nor do you ever complain about having her there, standing and watching, awaiting your next move.

As you slowly put down the last piece of paper, you now stand beside your assistant. She quickly fetches you a pen, and you take some time to look away from all of the documents to grab it.

“M-may I ask something?” She asks you.

You look away from the pen over at her and nod.

“Why…” She leans into one of the pages facing her, the first one you put down, “This year in particular?”

You bring your eyes to the paper her finger is laying on and quickly bring them up to her once more.

“It was two years before I made my first headline.”

Still confused, your assistant lifts her finger off the paper and nods at you, acting as if she understood what you just said. She looks through the rest of the documents now, checking their dates and noticing that the last one was extracted just at the start of this week. The table is simply full of them because they are all of the papers that connect the timeline between those two years - then and now.

You carefully read the information in front of you. Your anxiety has calmed down, yet it still burns deep inside of you. It may be because of all that you may find, but it can also be due to the lack of things that you may also find. Your fingernail taps on the table as you continue to stay focused on the paper and take notes with your pen about all that you know of each number presented to you.

From each downfall to each upbringing of the company, all of it has a reason to happen, and you write down every single one that you may find in this table - from marketing to partnerships, everything.

Your assistant stays distanced from the papers as you work, but her mind stays in play. She has no idea, at first, of what could be that you’re looking for. Again, she knows that you’re looking at the company’s rate of success and failure throughout the years as that is exactly what you told her you would be doing today. But… Why that year?

She knows quite a lot about you and your career as she has been your assistant and secretary for some good years, but she knows nothing of your personal life - nor does she wish to. You have been in the news ever since you were born. Both of your parents are successful. A baby coming from that pair made a headline at the time, she knows that, but that is not the year of the headline you seem to be looking for. May you mean your first headline as the company’s owner?

That question makes her steal a look at the year on the page one more time, but, much to her disappointment, that is not the year in question. Millions of questions flash through her mind as she thinks of all other possibilities.

You move 5 papers aside, joining the first year that you have on paper in one small pile, and move on to the next one. You write down and underline all that you need to know, or that you think could be needed to know for the conclusion you’re trying to get out of all of this. Yet, still, these first years would make you conclude nothing but the introduction of two companies in the list of partnerships.

You move on to the next pile after joining together the previous one and notice how your body seems to react to the innocently typed year.

You underline the very specific month in all of the papers and simply write down quick letters “B.W.” just beside it. You lay both of your hands on the table and hover the paper as you read them.

That is exactly when your assistant finds the answer to her question. It’s not your first headline of all time, not your first headline associated with the company, your first headline as the boss of the company, or your first headline by yourself. It was simply your first headline with 'the prince of the city', and the first headline that made your name be dragged through the mud by so many mouths in the media outlets.

You circle the large numbers of extractions and intakes of money from that year forward. From before and after the headline. You watch as the total calculation stays printed at the end of the page, showing a clear decline in business.

You stay silent, continuing to move along through the years, moving carefully and joining in the piles, trying to find the new truth that could be the justification for so much in your life. Year after year and pile after pile, and you continue to have nothing.

By the time you’re done with all of the papers, the rude sound of a phone ringing loudly fills the entirety of the room. You hear your assistant swear at herself in a whisper while standing just behind you, and she moves to put down her things and pull out her phone from her pocket.

The contact name flashes on the screen, and your assistant quickly brings her eyes over to you. She watches as you stand straight once more and look over at her to try and see what is taking her so long with the phone call.

“It’s your mother, ma’am.” She tells you carefully.

“Talk to her outside.” You tell her, already facing the table midway through your sentence.

She watches as you stare at the paper and rebegin to tap the end of your pen on the wood. She takes a few steps back and walks out of the room, ready to listen to your mother’s orders or plans, just like any other end of the week.

You stay in place, reading carefully as the door closes behind her. You underline the last group of numbers and stand back straight, creating the new pile. You take a step back and look at all of the piles before you.

Confusion is what substitutes all of your emotions suddenly when all that you feel is the lack of a piece in your puzzle. The lack of the justification that you’ve been searching for.

You walk closer to the table once more and pick only a few piles. You line them up and notice how the first ones all have a thing in common, the decline of money and succession of the company, and the other group of piles the increase of said money and succession.

The first group of piles includes the year of the headline, the two following years, and one many years later - close to the time you finished college. The second group of piles is larger, much larger. It has the second year prior to the headline, the 5 years before your joining of the company, and then all of the years that have you as boss.

Your heels click as you quickly grab the two years prior to the headline, as well as the headline itself, and fetch the papers you need. As you stare at the lists of names, you tighten your hold on the pen.

You throw the pen onto the table, making it roll to the floor, and grab the paper which has the profit of the company in a graph. You lay each graph side by side.

You read your own annotations out loud and then walk over to papers of the following years once more.

Putting all of the papers side by side, you stare at all of them again. You intake sharp breaths and read everything one time, two times, five times. The words before you don’t change as the truth stays in printed words just before your eyes.

The company suffered from the headline of your teenage years, they said. They said all of that yet the precise answer is right in front of you now.

That being that one of the most prominent investors of your father’s company pulled out in the month following your headline. Again, one simple company pulled out, and, naturally, the money of your father’s company dropped.

The logic is: no money to spend, less money to make. But the reality is that, in the following years, there was a new presence: Five other companies. All of them are still affiliated with you and make up for the largest partner deals you and your father have done in all these years.

You pull out your phone and type in the name of the said investor. The news articles of years ago flash before your eyes, and anger builds inside of you. Your company lost its primary investor, it didn't suffer. And that same investor is a nobody in the year you live in now.

They lost the company to bankruptcy and have always been a large spokesperson in the years prior to their problematic separation with none other than Wayne Enterprises. All of it simply 4 years before their separation from your father’s company.

You put down your phone and gather all of the lists of partnered and affiliated companies your business has had, from the headline till now. You pick up your laptop, which was abandoned at the end of the table by the time the meeting was over, and begin to do your research: writing down every name and reading the title of every news article that appears before you.

All articles miss one thing and one thing only yet you still keep on going. Your breath has begun to feel stuck in your throat as you type and as you read, and nothing facilitates it for you.

As you reach the list of this year, you notice that it simply has minor changes when it comes to partnerships, but you do your research still.

The door of the room opens after two knocks, and your assistant walks back in, phone in hand. She closes the door behind her and her eyes meet you, staring at the screen with a focused expression on your face yet hiding your every other emotion.

“Your m-” She begins but something stops her.

You had lifted a hand to make her wait and that was enough to make her stop talking.

You read the final title of the headline and quote from the said website and write down the final two letters on the list “W.E.”. You close your laptop and pick up the paper from the table.

This year has been the best of years when it comes to the company's success, with or without you leading it. Money has never been so high in the graph, and no company from your list of partners has pulled out of business or gone against you even once in the space of 6 years. The only changes that appear on those lists are newer names - smaller companies wanting in, and being sold off to you and your company.

You have made more money than your father has ever done as boss of the company. And you have made 30 times the money that he lost when you made the headline with Bruce.

That same headline destroyed you. The media knew that and made it even worse. They circled your name with lies and repeated your public humiliation in thousands of articles in the following years. You were mentioned more times as the girl rejected by Bruce Wayne than anything else. Soon, that nickname changed to the woman that owns one of the fastest growing companies in all of Gotham.

You stare at the list one more time and close your eyes.

You’re the owner of one of the fastest growing companies in all of Gotham, and all of it as you stand beside other companies that you have continued forward with you. And all of them are affiliated or have been happily affiliated before with Wayne Enterprises.

You have no idea for how long truth has been printed, but you have been fed lies for years.

You look up at your assistant, who stands patiently awaiting her time to speak her news to you, and you open your mouth to speak.

“I need you to fact-check a few things this afternoon if possible.” You tell her.

“Of course. What is it about?”

“I need you to know if all of these companies,” You lift the paper for her to see which paper it is, “truly are or have been ever affiliated with the Wayne’s. As well as their relationships with them at present time.”

The mention of the name of the company comes as a surprise to the woman before you, but she quickly closes the space between the two of you and takes the paper, carefully, from your hands. She takes a quick look and offers you a shy grin.

“Of course. I will try to have it done before 6.” She tells you.

You grin back at her as a thank you and notice as she stays silent for a little longer. You bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself from your hidden anger and point towards her phone in her hand.

“What did my mother say?” You ask, voice as monotone as ever before.

“Oh, yes.” She remembers, “She called to ask if you’re still attending Friday’s dinner.” She tells you, fixing her posture as she speaks.

A sick grin grows on your face, but your assistant is blind to its true meaning.

“I am.” You tell her, “At my parent’s house, correct?”

“Yes.” She nods with her usual gentle grin, “And she also asked for you to do something.”

“Which is?” You ask her.

“She asked for you to not bring any unwanted company.” She tells you, “She emphasized the word quite a lot.”

Your blood boils at the indirect mention of Bruce, and the memories of the morning of just previous days enter your mind. The way they looked at him or mentioned him while talking to you. Yet as the truth makes a comeback to your head, all of their actions appear to be nothing but childish to you.

You smile at your assistant, making it appear as if your mother’s quoted words are nothing but a clear inside joke between the so loving mother and daughter, and she smiles back at you.

“You can reassure her that he won’t be there.” You tell her.

“Of course, ma’am.” She answers you right as she begins to type back your mother’s contact as she takes a step back, “If I may be excused?” She asks, holding up the phone.

“Of course.” You tell her with a nod and a smile.

Unsurprisingly, your mother picks up the call after its first rings, and your smile stretches. You hear your assistant saying the words “I spoke to her” as she walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, and your gaze falls back down to the table. You tap your nail on the wood a few times and shake your head as your smile falls.

Good thing today’s already Thursday.

There will be a lack of Bruce in the next parts. He will be there in mentions, but not really there (if that makes any sense). Hope that is okay!!

Taglist: @nadjababygirl@keepingitlokiii @duwcsd@afro-hispwriter@ikeashark69 @cansi09 @harlowhockeystick @wojciechovsk @mr-robot-x @reggxe-a @xxh0neyg0rchxx @yeehaw-wife @goldbvtton @blossomedfloweroflove @ttae-yong @deadflowerd @deardiearyy @staticspouse @boobabietch @egar-allen-hoe @piggyinthesea @verymuchsugoi @toomanystoriessolittletime @happyladybee @kiryoutann @darling-imobsessed @atomicsoulcollecto @blue-aconite @that-girl-named-alex @lauftivy@the-blueatlas @bloodyxheaven @loverofminesworld @bethoconnor @solango @livelaughloove @rdtbattinson @starfulmaeum @ruiaana @horizonboundloner @dc-marvel-96 @thewonderanazombie @e2194 @shimmeringgrim @ms-dont-care @zvts @fanficlov-3-r

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#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #battinson x y/n #battinson x you #battinson x reader #battinson #robert pattinson #batman x reader #the batman x fem!reader #the batman imagine #the batman x reader #batman x y/n

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blackresin75 · 3 years

Text

The Heart of My Sea

TW: Choking, virgin reader, rough sex, loving sex, bondage, nipple play, oral (fem receiving), and overstimulation.

A/N: Hey so this is my first fic like this so please tell me what you think. My roommate did help me out a LOT @violinwizard thank you so much. This is for the Mythology and Folklore collab so please check out the others here. I have the masterlist reposted.

***********************************************************************

Dad always tried to control where you went. He wanted you to stay in his sight when you weren’t with the others luring sailors to their deaths. You’ve never wanted to kill but it was your only saving grace from your fathers grasp, but maybe that was what makes the Captain of the Midnight Rose so alluring.

The main crew looked to be about the same age as you and your friends, they also looked more content in their place on deck. Your feelings of jealousy grew more and more as each ship passed by and sank. Maybe that’s how you ended up in this position, stuck in a net blinded by jealousy and rage.

You feel the coarse net grind against your skin as you struggle to get free. The thrashing around causes the net to scrape up your arms and your tail. No matter how much you squirm, The coarse fibers don’t budge. You feel the water sink below you as you rise up. Panic starts to set in your chest as the light from the surface grows brighter.

“Shit, shit! No no no no fuck!” The ropes cut deep into your skin as your thrashing grows desperate, you feel the salt water flow around your body. You break the surface gasping frantically, thinking of all the stories of sirens before, kidnapped and left for dead. You've seen the aftermath, but you never dreamed it would happen to you.

Your breathing soothes but the panicky feeling in your chest doesn’t leave. You can hear gruff voices, but you can’t hear anything outside of the beating of your heart and the surge of the waves. The panic becomes so immense that by the time you’re set down on the mahogany deck you are already too far gone

When you wake up, all you can see is the shadow of a man on the far side of the deck. At first, his eyes are all you notice, deep and black as the ocean on a new moon night. There’s a scar running under the left one, giving him a dangerous and rugged appearance. He is dressed as many of the sailors you’ve taken to the deep, loose shirt with a deep cut, betraying a strip of an almost well defined chest. His tight pants leave nothing to the imagination, while his long coat makes you wish there was more to see. A scarf hangs around his neck, the end just dipping into the V of his shirt. “I wonder what he would look like in the ocean, all wet and mine for the taking.” The thought comes unbidden and you quickly scold yourself, a blush forming on your cheeks . Someone clears their throat, taking you out of your daydream and you look around at the rest of the crew. Their glares make you look away, and you quickly turn your eyes to the man in front of you. He walks towards you, taking off his trenchcoat and drapes it over your naked figure.

“I’m bringing her into my quarters, if you need anything.” .He stares daggers at the crew, while his hair flies up and eyes turn red, “Don’t.”

With that the roguishly handsome man picks you up and takes you to a cabin below deck. He lays you back on the mattress in the corner of the exquisite cabin, then he leans up against the desk in front of the neat bed. “So, you got a name?”

“Y/n,” you hesitate, “are you going to hurt me, sir?” His eyes go wide, his body stiffens a little, and he bites his lip. Bringing a strong callous hand up, he gently takes a piece of hair and tucks it behind your ear.

“You think I’m going to hurt you?” His whisper carries straight to your heart, the amount of care in his words sends a shiver through your spine. “Well, y/n, I’m Shota Aizawa, I own the Midnight Rose. I know you’re not human, so what the fuck are you exactly? We caught you in the sea, maybe a Kraken, or mermaid, or perhaps a siren.”

His voice gets lower and his face gets closer, you’ve sung songs to sailors that promise their dreams. A lot of sex, but there were a few of just pasta; those songs are your favorite. You can now see the allure of sex and love just by looking into this man’s tired eyes. Instead of answering him, you opt to stay quiet. “Not talking? That’s okay, kitten. I have ways to make you talk.”

Your face darkens even more at his words, why is calling you kitten? What are his ways to make you talk? The panic returns in full force, he sees the fear and panic on your face and he walks over to the bed and puts a loving arm around you. You freeze, and he decides to rub your back, “shhh, kitty, it's okay. I’ll protect you now. I want to know what you’ve been through.”

His gentle reassurance surprises you, it's not everyday that you see someone so handsome and gentle. Someone who doesn’t want to treat you like a toy, but maybe that’s what made you want him to treat you like a toy. Just to see if he still would want you after or throw you back to the sea violated.

“You didn't answer my question, are you going to hurt me, sir?” You lean in closer to Shota. The tension starts to thicken, with just five words.

“Do you want me too?” Shota looks at you differently, he wasn’t malicious or terrifying. He pulls you closer, looking into your eyes, his breath taking up your air. The different songs flew through your head but only one thing felt right.

“I want you.” You lean forward and kiss him with your entire soul. You’ve never felt this way before, and from what Aizawa was reciprocating, he feels it too. The kiss deepens and a heat starts to form in your pussy and gut. He groans into your mouth and he pulls you on top of him. Feeling his hard cock against your pussy sends a shock that jolts through your bones. He grabbed your arms and started kissing where the net cut into your skin.

“I’m sorry y/n, I did this to you. I’m so sorry.” He kisses you everywhere he can touch, soft, loving kisses. When he reaches your neck, it sends shivers down your back, and a moan bubbles up in return. The shivers soon travel to your stomach, where his hands are caressing in full circles, slowly heading upwards. You can feel the rough texture of the coat on your nipples driving the sensitivity to new heights. Suddenly he slips the coat from your shoulders, and you hear it hit the ground at the same time his hand finally hits the swell of your breast.

His lips leave your neck, a whimper escaping your throat at the loss, which is immediately followed by his moan as his mouth closes on the peak of your breast. You feel his tongue circle your nipple, caressing it slowly, and you are awash with heat, striking to a forbidden place in your core. His tongue is soft, and wet, giving you a pleasure never felt before. He grabs your backside possessively, pulling you impossibly closer, you moan, grasping his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself afloat in the rushing tide that is him.

In your state, you barely manage to gasp out a “Don’t stop”, and you clutch harder as he slowly starts to suck on the breast he is tethered to, his tongue still making tortuous movement. One hand lightly caressing your other breast, his other starts to slowly head downwards, mapping your skin, which has started to gather sweat. He gently nudges your thighs apart and begins to descend further into uncharted territory. Before he can reach his destination, he pulls back and meets your eyes.

“Is this ok?” He asks. Frustration hits you at the loss of his ministrations, and you grab him by the scarf, pulling him back to you, “Please, keep going”. You feel his smirk before he begins, this time on the other breast. His hand continues in your depths, to circle around a single point that opens a floodgate. You grasp him tighter, your hand going into his hair in pure joy, as his fingers continue at the same pace, tracing a whole new alphabet on your center.

You want more pressure, you begin to move with him, trying to encourage him to go faster. “Kitten” he admonishes, his voice low, “Do you need more?” You can only moan in response. His hand is suddenly grasping the back of your neck, pulling you away from him, the breath leaves your throat, and you feel as if you're floating, pleasure filling the space of total awareness.

He laughs, “Cat got your tongue?” You want him, want more, you reach out blindly, catching his shirt in the process. You want it gone, you tug, and it floats down beside you. You see his smirk turn sinister.

“You shouldn’t have done that. Do you know what happens when the Kitten gets the cream before she’s meant to?” He slowly takes the scarf off his neck, and before you can comprehend that you can see the sweat coating his neck, he has lowered you to the bed, the scarf wrapping around your wrists, tying you to the bedpost. Panic rises inside you, before it bubbles over, he slowly kisses you, passionately bringing the softer feelings from earlier back into the game. It calms you, enough to notice both his hands have pressed your thighs back to their open stance, and he is moving down your body, his chest heaving. You feel his breath on your lower stomach, his tongue taking just enough time to dip into your belly button before working further down.

The heat is back, flooding your senses as you feel his breath on your thighs where his hand is, you feel his tongue, followed by his teeth, lightly nipping, moving towards the place you want him most. You want to tug him close, but you are restrained from above, you consider thrusting closer, before he is there. You feel his breath on the most intimate part of your body, sending shivers to your very soul, and ripping the part of you wanting to escape away. He sits there making you wait, before you finally feel his tongue on that same spot from earlier.

It is somehow both cold and hot at the same time, and impossibly wet, adding to the sensual feelings bubbling up from inside. The soft tongue is a stark contrast to the nails on both your thighs. With each swipe of his tongue you are brought to new heights. Just left to moan and writhe on the bed, with no hard body to soothe the shivers. Finally his lips close over the nerves, and your soul is drawn from you and into him, you can’t stop moaning, arching off the bed, your feet finding solace along his muscular back. Your thighs crushing the head between them. He groans out, possessively grasping your thighs to pull you closer to the torture that is his mouth. You feel something else on your folds, one of his fingers, gently prying the opening to your depths, which you have just realized is dripping liquid.

His finger sinks deep just as his tongue passes over the top of the nub, and you almost scream, your breath rising, your vision gaining spots. His finger is joined by another as they twist and scoop, scraping against a part of you that sends pure heat to your heart, and your heart to the heavens above. He keeps striking the place inside as his lips pull your very being into him. Once you take a breath, twice, you rise from the bed. Thrice, you are screaming. And then you are falling grasping at the headboard above. You have spots dancing in your eyes and a fire in your belly. As a tsunami of pleasure ripples through you, starting and ending with the man who is still milking you into him.

“Shota, p-p-please” You moan, as you ride out your intense first orgasm. The pleasure comes in waves as Shota cleans you the mess you made with his insatiable tongue. As you come down from your high, he comes up by you and he kisses you with hunger. He slowly pulls away from you, bringing both hands up to cup your beautiful face. One hand gently caresses your cheek and soothes your heated face. He let his thumb wander to your plump lips and let it drag down slowly to see your bottom teeth. With your mouth wide open, he brings his hand, still wet with your juices, to your open mouth.

“Clean, Kitten.” You stick your tongue out a little and lick a small amount of your essence off of him. Shota groans as you lick his fingers coated in your slick. You love the feeling of falling off the edge for him, the world melts as he takes his fingers away and kisses you with full force. He puts the fingers back into your sweet, sticky spot, pumping in and out, until you could feel the heat return. You let out a small whine, “‘s too much, sir.”

He takes his fingers out and you whine again, not wanting his fingers to leave your heat. He lets out a small chuckle, “Do you want me or not? I thought you wanted me, we’re not even close to being finished.”

You let out another whine as he places his fingers back in your pussy. This time he starts with two fingers and quickly slips in a third, stretching you out. He kept pumping you full, hitting the spongy part in you multiple times. He takes out his fingers, hitting your swollen clit on the way out. You feel so close to the edge again. Not wanting the pleasure to stop, you try to bring your hand down to give some much needed friction to your neglected area. The headboard clicks against the wall of the cabin, reminding you of the scarf that ties you up. You glance down and see Aizawa pumping his full, slightly curved, cock, dripping with precum. The engorged tip is a flushed pink, you watch as he mixes your essence with his pre. Satisfied with the prep work, he comes up and grabs your hips, coaxing your legs to wrap around him. He lines up his length with your pussy, and looks at your panicked face.

“Kitten? Are you okay with this? Have you done this before?” His questioning is endearing, you’ve haven’t had sex before, but you know a lot about it. With all of his ministrations on your body, you don’t want it to stop.

“No, but I don’t want you to stop.” You share a breath with Shota, both of you not wanting to break the silence. He looks at you lovingly and whispers a kiss over your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll try to be gentle, Kitten.” His kissing gives you reassurance. He lines his swollen cock to your folds and slowly lets himself into you. The pressure is painful at first and the pain slowly changes to pleasure. You look down to where you are joined and see that only his tip is in. How is that possible? Is he even going to fit? You feel so full already but there is still more? “Shhh, it’s okay Kitten,” he wipes away a stray tear from the pain, “You’re so beautiful.”

He slowly puts more of his large cock in you, pain makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut. He caresses your hair, petting you and giving you praise as you take his entire length. As he bottoms out in you, you let out a wail that would put the banshees to shame. You both wait for your tight cunt to adjust to his size. Your chest heaving as you tap on Shota’s shoulder signaling him to start moving.

“I need actual words, Kitten.” You gather your breath and whisper a small yes in his ear. With that small yes, Aizawa kisses you temple and starts to move in your heat. You feel his cock move at an antagonizing pace, and you need more.

“More, sir-” Aizawa growls in your ear, it is already so difficult for him not to lose control and he doesn’t want to hurt you. When you keep calling him sir, the difficulty increases. He picks up speed slowly, moans coming freely from your throat and tears from your eyes. Every now and then he kisses the tears from your eyes and sings your praises.

“My good kitten, doing exactly what I need.” He starts to go faster and harder. Words and moans mixing in your mouth bubbling up to the surface, coming out as much of a mess as your cunt. You feel a coil of heat rise in your stomach as the tip of his cock pounds relentlessly into your cervix. Something was different about this edge, no longer was it the tsunami of pleasure like you knew it. It’s like being sucked into a whirlpool that doesn’t end, the feeling growing larger and larger until you let go.

You hear Shota shouting, “Fuck, I’m cumming, Kitten,” He kisses your lips, as you fall back into the whirlpool of pleasure. You feel thick ropes of cum coat your fluttering walls, you let the whirlpool take you completely. A clear liquid coats both you and Shota as you let out another wail. He looks down at the mess and back to your face. You both let out a little laugh, and he pulls down the covers of his bed. He grabs a blanket from one of the wardrobes and drapes it over you. He clambers into the bed and pulls you close.

“You’re so beautiful. I think I’m falling for you.” He kisses you. You’ve never been the one to believe in love at first sight, but with him, how else could you explain it? You have totally fallen for him since you landed on his deck.

“Shota, I think I love you.” You whisper.

“I think I love you, too.” He kisses your nose lovingly.

“Even if I’m a siren?” He looks at you and brings you into a hug.

“You’re the Heart of my Sea, I will always love you, y/n.”

#bnharem collab #aizawa shouta #pirate #aizawa smut #aizawa x reader #bnha smut

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etherealtobio · 3 years

Text

𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐢.

— suna rintarō x reader

— summary: right person, wrong timing. how do two ex-lovers react when they cross paths in reminiscent sceneries?

— contains: gn!reader, angst (with happy ending), college AU, post-college AU

— word count: 1k

— a/n: this fic is based on Zild’s song “Kyusi”, and this fic is a part of @xybi’s ating istorya collaboration event in celebration of Buwan ng Wika! i hope you take the time to read the wonderful works featured there. also, give the song a listen if you’d like :) <3 enjoy!

[5:30 PM]

“be real with me.”

suna stares as you look at the distance in front of you.

it’s half past five, and you’re both sitting on a bench at the sunken garden, biding time, looking at the falling leaves and passing jeepneys.

college is hard. it hit you harder as you moved to Quezon City a year ago to study in Diliman.

you weren’t expecting to cross paths with a varsity player in the volleyball team during the process. although you appreciate the company, you didn’t expect things to go by faster.

the thing is, suna thinks that love is rushed.

it’s the adrenaline that keeps him going; the sound of dashing trains, honking cars in traffic, hurrying people headed to their own directions.

life is in a hurry in Manila. it’s what he grew accustomed to ever since he was young; and life hits harder at him, because he doesn't know what it feels like to be patient.

it’s evident in his words and actions.

“why won't you tell me the truth?” he speaks again.

“what do you mean?” you finally said, shifting your gaze on your fidgeting feet on the grass.

“what you’re feeling,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “you don't have to pretend. i just want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

the thing is, you want to. you want to tell him that everything is overwhelming. the time, the surroundings,

him.

his love felt too good to be true. it’s only been half a year since you’ve been together, and you feel that he doesn’t deserve to witness the facade you've set high up ever since you left the province.

it felt too real and unreal at the same time.

“i’m too scared,” you lift your head, looking at him.

a moment passes.

“of what?” suna sees the tears in your eyes.

“everything’s too fast.”

[6:00 AM]

rrring!

suna groans at the sound of his alarm.

it’s been a year since the breakup. everything's a blur. the only thing he remembered was you saying “it was good while it lasted.”

today’s a saturday, and he usually gets up early to have a morning jog, but he figured he wanted to stay in bed for a little while.

staring at the ceiling, he can’t help but reminisce about the time he first asked you out on a date.

he told you there was this new cinema downtown that he’d like to take you. he remembers how you couldn’t seem to finish the popcorn by the time the movie ended, and he remembers how cold your hands were when he asked to hold it on the way to the train station.

he always tried to make you feel comfortable, to make you feel a lot more loose around him. but your own ministrations prevented you from having a good time with him.

you felt like he didn’t deserve you at your worst state of mind.

change is difficult for you to handle. the life of being away from home, the mindset of being alone and independent in this big city mixed with the conflicting feelings you have was something you dreaded. not being able to express your true self to suna was something you tried working on, but you figured it's too early for everything.

for you, love is calm.

it's the quiet murmurs of people at the library. the gentle breeze of the night touching your skin. the pretty, soothing smell of kamuning flowers seen in the neighborhood’s front yards.

so when you’re with him, absurdly so, the pacing never felt right.

a city boy ready to chase his dreams mixed with you who’s still quite unsure of the hustle and bustle of the city is met with heartbreak and worry and everything in-between.

“meet me at Kamuning.”

suna reminisces again.

it’s supposed to be that simple. he was planning to take you to nearby places where he remembers his childhood.

the famous bakery known for their mouth-watering pastries, Bernardo Park where he repeatedly tripped on the bridges when he was a kid, and the classic neighborhood selling antique furniture and decorations back from the 90s.

he wonders if he ever did something wrong. if he was ever enough. and he can’t quite find the answers to his questions.

he wanted to relive those memories with you, yet everything went wrong when you broke your promise.

you never met him there.

[4:17 PM]

years passed, and suna thinks he’s rather careful.

just like how he precisely blocks and spikes the ball in games, he’s a lot wiser in handling different situations, and more meticulous in understanding tell-tale signs.

the subsiding adrenaline of his state of mind pushed him to become certain of everything, and it’s in you that he witnessed true patience.

after years of waiting for you, for the right time, for the right things to do, he thinks that everything feels right.

love doesn't have to be as loud and blaring as the city filled with time-chasers. love doesn't have to be pretentious. love doesn't have to hurt.

love is seeing you again, crossing paths at the train station after trying to finally meet you at Kamuning, and it feels as though everything went quiet.

he sees you, older and wiser, the you back in college much more different than the you today.

then you see him, facial features growing softer and subtler. he smiles at you, and suddenly it felt like the crowded transit was left with only you and him.

suna can’t seem to pinpoint the atmosphere at this very moment. the uncertain feelings once felt before changed into unfaltering contentment.

and you seeing him once again felt like home.

you walk towards him, unsure what to do. he walks towards you, too, almost closing the gap between you.

“hi,” suna smiles at you, cheeks almost reddening.

“hello,” you smile back, hands quite shaking, more delicately than before.

“let’s go to Kamuning.”

together are the both of you, and after he holds your hand, a lot warmer than before, he knows.

you're the one he’d want to be with in Kyusi.

— another a/n: for those of you who are confused, ‘Kyusi’ means ‘QC’, or Quezon City, a city in Manila, Philippines! UP Diliman is a university located in QC, and Kamuning is an area in QC where Bernardo Park is located (where suna was about to bring you to), which is also a fragrant, white flower! it’s named after the place :) <3

#im so sorry this isnt the best ive written #this would be better for a long fic with all the chapters and stuff #which is why the timelines are too sticked together yk but i tried LOL <3 #mab.writes #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu one shots #haikyuu fic #suna #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #suna x reader #suna x you #suna angst #suna fic

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ambivalent-anarchy · 4 years

Text

You've Got Moves

Masterlist

Part 2

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: None

Summary- [Y/N] asks Peter to do some TikTok dances with her.

Bonus: Clueless Peter. FLUFFF. Also guy best friends are the best best friends to have lol

If you need a description for Asher, just think whatever your idea of a really hot guy is lol.

A/N- this is a repost because the first one was blocked from tags due to tiktok being weird about links😬

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"Oh my gosh bitch, just ask him."

Your best friend Asher glared at you with pure impatience in his eyes. You'd been going on about this in every gym class for literal weeks.

"Oh my God, doesn't that guy over there have such a classic 'tiktok guy' face?"

"Ooh, look he's flexible! He's probably a really good dancer too."

"You think he'd do a tiktok with me? Nah, that's dumb."

"I bet he's a tiktoker and I just haven't found his page yet."

It drove him crazy. He didn't know whether you had a crush on this guy or if you really were just that obsessed with tiktok to the point where you were finding random people who looked good to do them with, but at this point he didn't care. He just really wanted to stop having conversations every day that ended with him staring at some guy and wondering if he could throw it back.

You watched the boy in question occasionally. You'd practically studied his physique, his face, his little ticks. Everything. But you didn't even know his name. All you knew was:

You definitely wanted to do a tiktok with him.

"Nah, Ash. He's probably gonna think I'm weird. I mean, who just goes up to someone and says 'yo you wanna do a tiktok with me?"

Asher facepalmed and groaned. "Literally anybody that wants to do a tiktok with someone else, [Y/N]." He rolled his eyes with a chuckle as he ruffled your hair with his hand. "C'mon, stop being a wimp and go ask the guy. Cuz if you don't, and I have to keep hearing you going on about his 'classic tiktok boy look', I'm seriously gonna jump off a cliff."

"Fuck you," you snickered with a smile.

Asher gave you a smirk. "You wish."

"Ewww," you groaned. Rolling your eyes, you looked back to the boy you'd been thinking about. He was sitting with his friend on the other side of the gym. You bit your lip anxiously. "Nah, I'm not gonna do it." You looked again. "Okay I'm gonna do it." He was just sitting there minding his own business. "Uh-uh. Nope. Not gonna do it."

"Oh my God..." Asher shook his head. "Fucking lost cause- HEY YO PETER!," he yelled to the other side of the gym, waving his hand wildly and signaling a 'come here' motion when the brown haired boy looked towards him.

Gasping, you turned around and slapped Asher's arm harshly.

"What was that for?!," he asked, rubbing the spot lightly.

"You knew his name?!," you hissed. "You knew his name this whole time and you never told me?!"

He simply smirked in return. "You never asked," he said, earning a middle finger from you.

"You suck," you scolded.

"You swallow," he shot back with a smirk.

Looking back, it made sense that Asher would know his name. After all, he was the social butterfly of social butterflies. You were sure that the only way you had caught a friend like him was because you were already his best friend before he hit puberty. While with others it causes acne and insecurity, it made Asher a literal supermodel (along with a bit of acne, I mean c'mon it's high school). And the fact that he was athletic, being on both the basketball team and the tennis team didn't hurt either. He hung with practically every clique in school, dragging you along wherever he went, though he preferred to hang with the popular crowd the most.

You both looked back to where Peter sat to see that he hadn't moved yet. He was halfway standing up but seemed to be caught up in a deep, frantic, borderline-panicking conversation with his friend.

Asher cocked his head to the side. "Aw, I think he's shy," he snickered. "You got yourself a little shy tiktoker." He shook his head slightly and as he continued to laugh. "Hang on, I'll go get him."

"Just don't say anything weird," you said, pushing him away to go fight your battle.

You drew in a long breath as you watched them converse and you waved when you saw Peter's eyes following Asher's point in your direction.

Knowing your best friend he was probably saying something super embarrassing that you'd have to explain away later, that is, if Peter walked over there in the first place.

"You know he really likes you, right?"

You swung around and looked to the bleacher seats on your right to see a curly haired girl with a book in her hands staring at you with the most unamused face you've ever seen in your life.

"Who?," you asked, extremely confused as to why this girl who never talked to you was talking to you. "Trust me, Asher and I have already been down that road. We're good where we are."

"Not him. Parker," she said tilting her head in Peter's direction. "He stares at you alot. It's pretty weird if you ask me. But then again, you stare at him alot too," she noted rather blatantly. "You guys could probably work. You're both dorks." She smirked, satisfied with her observations and went back to her book as if nothing happened.

"I don't like him," you mumbled back. "I don't even know him."

She didn't raise her eyes from her book as she sighed loudly. "Well then why're you so obsessed with doing a video with him because he has a 'classic tiktok boy look' when you've got Asher -who arguably has more of a 'classic tiktok boy' look than Parker- right next to you, who would probably be more than willing to do some lame dance with you being that he's your best friend?," she asked (more accused than asked).

"Oookay, whatever...," you mumbled, figuring you didn't need to explain yourself to someone you didn't know, turning back to where you could see Asher walking back to you, Peter and his friend close behind. When they finally reached you, Asher put a hand on both you and Peter's shoulders with a smug grin on his face.

"Okay. [Y/N], meet Peter. Peter, meet my dear friend [Y/N]."

You plastered a smile on your face and waved, to which Peter nervously smiled and waved back. He shared a quick look with his friend and then spoke up. "So, uh, can I help you or something?," he asked, snapping you from your thoughts.

"Hmm?," you hummed.

"It's just that, I-i don't.. really know why I'm over here.

"You threw your hand over to the left of you, expecting to hit Asher in the chest. "Ugh, Ash you didn't even te-" You turned your head when you felt nothing but air. "Ash?"

"Hey [Y/N]!"

You turned your head towards his voice and saw that Asher had moved to sit next to the girl who spoke to you before.

"We should really read this book Michelle's reading together. It's called 'The Slaughterhouse Five'!"

You rolled your eyes. Asher hardly even read books unless they were required. Dumb flirter.

You tilted your head toward this "Michelle" girl, whose head was stuck in a book as she actively ignored Asher sitting next to her. You chuckled, mouthing a quick 'good luck' to your friend before turning back to the timid boy who was watching you expectantly.

Shaking out the anxiety in your head, you finally spoke to him. "Uh, I have this thing that I'm trying to do and I know you don't know me and I don't know you and we've never really talked at all and this is kinda weird, but I kinda think that you'd be awesome for it," you rambled, continuing when Peter nodded. "So would you maybe wanna do it with me?"

"Well, what is it exactly?," he asked.

You shrugged. "Just some tiktoks," you said. "I mean, it's totally fine if you don't wanna-"

"Um, sure. But question, and this is probably gonna sound really lame but," he started. He blushed as he looked down at his feet. "What is a tiktok?"

You slapped your hand over your mouth, trying to hide a laugh. You looked to Peter's friend who was still standing there beside him. "I-is he serious?"

His friend laughed too, nodding his head. He patted Peter (whose face was now beet red) on the back and whispered into his ear. Peter's face lit up. "Oh! Gotcha. Thanks, Ned."

"So will you?," you asked.

He scratched his head. "Well sure, but full warning. I'm not much of a dancer."

Michelle looked up from her book once again. "Shut up, loser. You pick up combinations faster than anyone I know."

Your face brightened. "I knew it!" You grabbed his arm and pulled him to the closest wall. "Okay so we'll just start off easy, alright?" Peter nodded in response. "Ummm, let's do this one."

Peter watched it about three times and handed your phone back to you, to which you gave it to Ned so that he could record it.

"Uh, we go right first, right?," Peter asked, going over the entire dance in his mind as he stood beside you while you checked with Ned to see if the shot was good.

"Yeah," you said, smiling as you got a thumbs-up from Ned. "Alright let's do this."

Peter would be lying if he said he had any idea what he was doing. Technically, he knew the dance. It wasn't hard at all and only took him watching it two times to get the hang of it.

But what was he really doing??? First, some really cool guy with the best haircut and chiseled jaw he's even seen who he never thought would be talking to him ever just walks up to him and Ned and practically demands (in a really cool, nonchalant, and non-aggressive way) that he goes to the other side of the gym to the girl that he's been secretly (well not so secret by the way Peter crushes) crushing on without giving him a clear reason. Then he gets there to find out that this totally hot girl picked him out of everyone in the entire gym to do dances with and he actually manages to suck up his nervousness enough to agree??

In a word, wild.

"Okay, that was pretty good," you said as you watched the video. Peter didn't know why, but he could feel a 'but' coming.

You gave a small smile. "But-"

Ah. There it was.

"Look dude," you sighed before pointing at his face. "You are, like really cute. You gotta own that and put it to use, man!"

Peter's eyes went wide and immediately he looked to Ned, who was also freaking out behind you.

You called him cute.

He liked you and you just called him cute.

You were one of the most popular girls in school, he liked you, and you just called him cute.

You continued. "You gotta put some false confidence on it! Bite your lip or something. Get into the music, man."

Peter's face was the reddest it'd ever been and you were sure that he was probably never used to getting a compliment by the way he was acting.

"U-uh, um. Wowww, heh, uh thanks," he mumbled, not really sure how to respond. His voice was wavering and he looked anywhere but you. "So, uh, you want to r-run it again?"

But of course, like all good things, it came it an end.

The gym coach came out clapping his hands together, demanding everyone's attention. "Okay everybody time for drills!"

You sighed. "Guess I'll just have to go with the first one. Thanks anyway, Peter," you said with a smile. "You've got some moves."

Once you turned away, immediately your face fell.That sucked.

You walked back to where Asher was getting up from his where he sat with MJ, and to your surprise, they were actually having conversation.

He waved and tilted his head to Peter in question. You shrugged in response, giving a 'kinda' motion with your hand.

"Hey [Y/N]!"

You turned back around and saw Peter with a cute and bashful smile on his face. "What up?"

"I-i was....I was wondering if m-maybe you'd...like to, um, maybe do this again tomorrow?"

On the insides, you were totally freaking out. This was great. You thought you'd scared him away but he wanted to do it again. "Yeah, totally! We can go to my house after school and-"

"I can't right after school," he rushed. "How about 6?"

"Sure. That's fine. 6 it is. I, uh, I need your number so I can send you my address." You whipped out your phone and gave it to him so that he could put his number in. Before sending your address, you paused. "You're not some psycho killer, are you, Peter?"

He laughed. "Nah, you've got nothing to worry about from me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~that afternoon~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

---

KingAsh👑😎: he there yet?

[Y/N]: nope

[Y/N]: said he's on his way tho

[Y/N]: hes lucky hes cute otherwise I'd be mad that hes so late

KingAsh👑😎: pls don't tell me u fell in love after one tiktok🙄

[Y/N]: of course I didn't jeez man

[Y/N]: but i mean im not blind👀

[Y/N]: also...

[Y/N]: whats up with u and that Michelle girl?? did you get her number?

KingAsh👑😎: ...

KingAsh👑😎: Fuck u

[Y/N]: u wish

KingAsh👑😎: well only if you think you can handle me😏

[Y/N]: omg just stop talking forever

---

Your head popped up from your phone when you heard the doorbell ring. You sent a quick text to Asher and ran downstairs to open the door for Peter.

"Uh, hey!," he said with a smile. "Sorry for being so late."

"Hey Peter," you greeted. You paused. "Um, mind if I call you Pete?"

He blushed, scratching his head. "Nah I don't mind. I get that alot," he said, stepping into your home.

"M'kay, I got some pizza in my room if we end up getting hungry and ahh, let's go up," you said, leading Peter to your room.

Peter looked around and noticed how quiet it was. "Where are your parents?," he asked.

"Well that's a million dollar question," you chuckled. "I live with my uncle."

"Oh," Peter hummed. "I live with my aunt." He announced, a bit too strangely happily.

"So, it's a Friday evening," you said, shifting topics. "We've got all the time in the world! So let's get it! I'll teach you everything..."

What you didn't know was that Peter spent almost all of his time on patrol scrolling through all the popular trends of tiktok and even finding your page and practically obsessing over it for hours. He'd studied and prepared and he was determined to impress you. And hopefully, if everything went according to his plan, you'd think he was more than cute by the end of the day.

---

Part 2 here

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