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sordidmusings · 1 year ago

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Switching Up Roles - Part 2/2 (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: gif relevant cuz this mf gets his hand privileges revoked 💀 I have finally finished it QuQ getting Buggy to admit his sub desires to you for anon is here! I really hope it is what you wanted and that you enjoy 🤍 there's lots of filth but there's also a lot of them being sweet dorks together and painfully in love because I couldn't help myself whoops

Word Count: ~8.5k

Warnings: feminine leaning afab!reader (no pronouns), NSFW my dude, very sub side of switch!Buggy, face sitting, oral (both receiving), light restraining, praise, degradation, edging, p in v, creampie, brat taming im p sure (Buggy doesn't mean to be a brat, petulance is just in his soul), takes a little to get to the sex but then it just keeps happening lol

Enjoy turning the clown into even more of a hot mess 🤡

Part 1

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy is, for once, at the door to your shared room, kicking off his shoes for the night, right when the last colors of sunset begin to fade and no later. His hat is pulled off and thrown with little care for where it lands and his gloves are yanked off and flung away. He stomps over to where you sit on the bed with heavy feet, plops you fully onto the bed with a complaining grunt, and flops his full weight on top of you with spread limbs. You would be chastising him right now, but all the air left your lungs when he belly-flopped you into the mattress. A few forceful breaths re-inflate your lungs, but by the time you have your words prepared, Buggy is finished with his prolonged and dramatic sigh, and he greets you with a “heya, sweetcheeks” that barely makes it out of the comforter engulfing his face.

Gods, you love this silly little man.

“Hello, lovebug,” you reply with a fond giggle. “I’d ask how you’re doing but the dramatic entrance told me everything.”

Another complaining grunt is his response.

“Sounds about right. How about this?” You shimmy yourself a touch so you can fully move your arms and slither them under his coat. Your fingers touch his sides before sweeping in and trailing next to his spine all the way up his back. You dig them in just enough to create resistance then you drag them all the way back down to the small of his back. You feel his shiver in your own body and bask in his happy sigh. “How about you let me take care of you tonight? You really need to spend some time relaxing before your body falls to pieces that won’t listen to you anymore. I don’t wanna have to put you together like a figurine again; you don’t come with assembly instructions.”

Something that sounds like “needing a waxing” vibrates into the mattress.

“You’re gonna have to repeat that one, Bubs.”

With a huff to let you know what an absurd effort you’re making him go through, Buggy turns his head to lay with his mouth next to your ear. “I said ‘sleep is relaxing’, dumbass.”

You easily ignore his toothless insult. You begin massaging the muscles under your hands on his lower back to ease him up some more. “Well, yeah, and that’s why I want to help you sleep like the dead.”

Ever a man with his mind frolicking in the gutter, Buggy gets some new found pep. He breaks out the rough whisper he knows you love to say, “And how do you plan on doing that, sweet treat?”

You turn to him and inch in close enough to speak against his lips, “Why waste time telling you when I can show you?”

Buggy’s pressing his lips to yours before you finish the final word. The kiss is full of ease with its slow rhythm and syrupy movements. You pull back to tease his lips with a brush of your own and take a moment to savor breathing the same air. Buggy won’t let you stop for long; his impatience for your touch always becomes all consuming after he gets that first taste. He’s still gaining more energy back and using it to put more strength into his movements. He props himself up on one elbow and his opposite hand slides over to palm the base of your skull. His thumb brushes the sensitive skin behind one ear and his fingers easily reach to the other, leaving you completely at his control. He gently sucks your bottom lip before giving it a hungry nip, and it comes back to you that you’re supposed to be leading this night somewhere.

When you go to pull away, Buggy’s hand keeps you exactly where he wants you. He responds to your attempted escape by teasing his tongue between your lips. This man clearly knows how weak you are for him, because you couldn’t keep yourself from deepening the kiss if you tried. Why would you ever deny yourself these moments where you could taste each other’s want on the smooth slide of tingling tongues? Wait. No. Focus.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he breathes out in response to another attempt to pull back, this one weaker. “Don’t you wanna be my good little slut?” You let out a high-pitched moan into his mouth at that, internally cursing him for being so hot. “I need my cock-hungry pretty baby to make me feel good. Didn’t you want to be my cocksleeve? My little toy to fuck whenever and however I want?”

Yes, yes you did. You loathe your past self for giving him that ammunition to use against you right now. Without meaning to, you spread your legs fully, making space for his hips to shimmy flush to your center. He rewards you with firm grinds of the thick bulge straining against his pants. His movements are unhurried, letting you focus on every moment and the way his cock drags on your heat, reminding you of every time it had you drunk on pleasure before. The promise it gives you is mouthwatering. You realize that you may have miscalculated. You had thought his brain would be too fried from the week to use your soft spots against you, but here he is, getting you wet and pliant with one deep kiss and some choice words. What a bastard.

You try pulling away again and are met with the same result. Fine then.

Buggy squawks and flinches back when you pinch his side. He splits at the waist to keep his lower half on you and floats his upper body out of your attack range. The look he gives you is absolutely seething, but you would not be moved. You remain unimpressed.

“I did pull back multiple times. What if I had to sneeze and you made me headbutt you?” you reason, knowing it was too obvious that you were enjoying yourself to pretend otherwise. The way your legs are still happily hooked around his hips would be all the argument he needs against you.

“You always do those little prep inhales and reel back like you’re getting an exorcism. Would’ve given me plenty of time to get out of the line of fire,” Buggy grouses, crossing his arms to give you his most petulant pout.

You make an exaggerated gasp and distort your voice to sound tearful when you say, “I thought you loved me for my dramatic sneezes! Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

“Every. single. day,” he deadpans.

“And here I was,” you begin, shoving his legs off and standing from the bed, “Ready to play doting housewife for you and undress you with kisses and massages and love!” You turn your back to him to really sell the soap opera scene. Using the word “love” may have been a little bit underhanded; you both have been skittering around saying your first “I love you”s, only daring to use the weighted word indirectly. Even so, it was always easy to see how hearing the word from your lips would make him forget everything else and seek another hit of it from you.

“Aw come on, baby,” he draws out, already switching from pouting brat to placating lover. “We can still do that right?”

There is a lot of frantic rustling behind you. You peek at him over your shoulder, only allowing yourself to turn enough to see him in the corner of your eye. He is popped back together and is sitting up on his knees. He had skooched himself to the edge of the bed right behind you, where he is now giving you his best puppy dog face. You’re able to hold out just long enough for him to start wondering if your anger was all play before you spin around and chirp, “Only if you make a deal with me!”

Buggy flings himself back out on the bed and groans, “Fiiiiiiiiine.”

“It’s one you’ll like, I promise,” you soothe. You ease Buggy to sit up at the edge of the bed, laughing at the way he’d sway too far into whichever direction you pulled him, staying just one step removed from going dead weight. Once he’s settled into his spot, you take a moment to examine him. It doesn’t go unnoticed to you that his back is hunched forward under the weight of his exhaustion. Though his eyes are playful, they also hold dark bags, which peek out around his makeup. Your heart aches for him. Even when he is overworked and needing sleep, he’s taking the time to goof around with you and listen to your requests. You’d make sure he had the best sleep of his life tonight. You’d get him all clean and cozy and ready for bed and then you’d make him cum so hard that his brain blue screens. Truly a proper recipe for a good night’s rest.

“How’d you take off your gloves at the door but not your coat?” you ask, pushing said coat off his strong shoulders. He helps you by pulling out his arms. While your eyes admire any new skin exposed to you, Buggy keeps his eyes on your face.

“Can’t feel you through the gloves,” he explains. Oh, wow, that’s actually really sweet- “You ever try to enjoy tits and ass through fabric? Doesn’t work as well.”

You puff out an exasperated laugh. Yep, there’s your Buggy.

Before you move on to take off his scarf, you brush your fingertips along his neck and jaw to enjoy the warmth of his skin and the scratch of his stubble. Once the cloth is gone, you begin using your lips instead. He reaches out to hold your hips in a practiced welcome when you settle into his lap. Anywhere your kissing moves, Buggy opens himself up to your touch. You nose his jaw up for his head to fall back and kiss your way along his pulse. Your hand comes up to support the other side of his neck, your thumb admiring the shape of his adams apple. Your other hand hooks into his shirt’s collar and pulls it aside for more access. By the time you follow his collarbone to his shoulder, your kisses are open-mouthed, sucking and licking at his skin. When you move back over to the base of his neck, you feel his throat bob from a heavy swallow then vibrate under your thumb with his pleased hum.

Eager kisses lead you up to his ear, which you greet with a nip. Pulling back, you blow cool air on him to light up the damp trail you left behind. While your lips explore him, his hands explore you. They had started at your hips and are now massaging indulgently at your chest. Like everything else, the motion is not rushed, which perfectly compliments the teasing way he thumbs your nipples through your shirt.

After a sweet kiss to his temple, you undo his bandana, exposing his beautiful blue hair. You guide his head down to rest against your sternum so you can more easily take out the pins and ties keeping his hair in place. Buggy hums in pleasure from the relief in his scalp once his waves of long hair all fall free. You help soothe it further by massaging your fingers from the nape of his neck, around to temples, up to crown, and back down again. You always love when you can play with his hair; it’s become covetously soft in your care and you’ve become addicted to the faint smell of shampoo topped with ocean spray that came from it.

Buggy’s hands move from your chest so he can wrap you in a loose hug. He mindlessly massages your lower back and ass while you tend to him. The break from your kissing lets him regain enough thought to ask, “You gonna let me know about the terms I’ve agreed to or am I supposed to start guessing?”

You give him a sweet giggle and kiss the top of his head. While moving on to unclasp his many belts, you reply, “If you insist then I guess I’ll tell you.” Even his shirt has belts, what is this? Yeah, they look nice, but each one is one more step between you and getting him naked. “What you’re gonna do-” you don’t miss his shiver at the sternness in your tone “-is lay there and enjoy what I give you.” You soften up just a touch. “I’m here to make you feel better. I need you to trust that.”

“Of course I do,” he says, almost offended. He earns a kiss with the ease and earnestness of his response.

Finally, all the belts are undone and his shirt is opened. Buggy pops his arms off so you can easily push it off of him without the rest of his body moving an inch. He reassembles while your hands work on touching every new stretch of skin. You’d never tire of feeling his abs twitch under your touch or tracing the contours of his body. You get bolder, scratching pink lines through the light texture of his blue chest hair. It matches his stubble in a handsome blue, slightly darker than the hair on his head.

With a grip on his hair, you ease Buggy’s head off of your chest. He moans at the pull of it on his tender scalp and hopes you think it's from discomfort. The way you turn your hand so it pulls firmer, earning more sounds, lets him know he’s not fooling you. He finds that he doesn’t care when he sees the appraising look you’re giving him.

Now that he’s sat up, you get back to work on marking him up. There’s a gentle, tingling scratch of hair against the skin of your face while you work him over. Buggy is slowly and surely falling apart between your dominating hand and worshiping lips. Where before he felt the need to muster the energy to meet you for pleasure, he is now surrendering to let you control when and how he feels it. He lets himself lean into your grip and keeps himself relaxed, only moving his hips in mindless grinds. Having this man offer you free access to himself is winding you up quickly. You needed to get this moving along. You could take all the time you wanted soon. After smearing a few more kisses across his chest, you get up to work on getting him out of his pants.

“Come on, Bugs, let’s get you out of the rest of those clothes,” you coo, moving back to stand in front of him.

“You want me naked~” Buggy taunts in a singsong voice like a schoolyard bully, giving you the cheekiest grin. He holds out his arms (making grabby hands of course) for you to pull him up. With a sturdy heave, you get the sleepy clown back on his feet.

“You’ve found me out,” you whisper in fake shame. “Whatever will I do?”

“Well, toots, you can buy my silence with kisses,” he offers.

After giving many quick kisses all over his face, many with exaggerated “mwah!”s to get more giggles out of him, you move on to his pants. Buggy stays quiet and pliant while you undid them and pull them down to his ankles, following them down to the floor. You are happy to see that familiar bulge more clearly while he’s just in his boxers. You kiss along his length through them, making it twitch eagerly. His hand comes to rest on your head, letting you know how much he wants you to stay there. You look up at him, making eye contact, before pulling back and pulling his boxers down to join his pants. You think it’s cute the way his breath still catches from seeing you like this. It’s also cute the way his hands move to your shoulders to help him balance while you take off his pants and boxers then pull each sock off of his feet.

Buggy settles himself to recline on the pillows at the head of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles and hands behind his head. He eats up the way your eyes scrape over every inch of his spread out body. It isn’t lost on him the way your eyes always gravitate towards the prize laying heavy on his stomach, highlighted by a deep blue happy trail and trimmed curls. “Your turn, sweet cheeks,” he prompts.

“Not so fast,” you say, turning away from him and going to grab some items on the dresser. You turn back holding out a cloth and bowl of water to answer Buggy’s raised brow. He is not happy with your answer.

“Come ooooon,” he complains. “Aren’t you used to the makeup by now?”

“Yeah, I thought that was obvious,” you respond, gesturing to the marks he’s left on your face and chest. “But our skin will be happier without it and you’ll feel better sleeping clean and without a whole stage show’s paint on your pillow.”

“But I want you on me now,” he growls. Okay that greedy tone almost won you over, but you could use his weak spots too.

“I also..” you had wanted to only play shy but found that the feeling became genuine. “I also want to see you bare faced tonight.” Buggy narrows his eyes so you continue. “Don’t get me wrong, the makeup is sexy - like obviously, you’ve seen how I get - but you’re handsome without it too. And sometimes all I wanna see is you.”

He relents easily, trying to hide the blush that burns up his cheeks and down his neck. You reward him by making very quick progress of getting him fresh faced and cleaning the smears off of your own face and body, before moving onto your clothes.

You’d like to say that you were sexy in the way that you stripped yourself, but the reality is that you were quick and unchoreographed in your rush to get back to Buggy. He’d never complain though; there’s already plenty of your mouth watering strip teases filed away in his mind. There was also a rush in knowing how quickly you want to touch him again. And in the way the rush has your tits and ass jiggling.

Buggy reaches out to welcome you back into his lap, but is blindsided when you move to grab and spread his ankles instead. The way you crawl in between his legs is slow and maddening. Where’s that impatience that had you tearing off your clothes? Buggy can’t lie, he does love the way you’re kissing up his legs and the way it lets him savor how your body moves and curves. His worn body and thumping heart are addicted to the way you’re touching him. The problem is that he’s having trouble thinking of anything beyond the way his cock throbs angrily at the lack of attention.

The whispers, nips, and kisses that you layer on his thighs stay just on the right side of ticklish. Buggy’s hands follow your movements, brushing into your hair and tugging gently whenever you find a particularly sensitive spot. You keep at it until his thighs are twitching and jumping to your touch and he’s lost control of the pace of his breath. It’s only then that you begin teasing his cock with soft lips and cold blown air. You mix in firm, sedate licks to keep hinting at the relief your mouth could bring.

Buggy detaches his hands and begins to trail them down your sides. He’s hoping that playing you with his fingers would urge you along. Beyond that, he needs to feel how slick and warm you are and get his mind ready for the feeling that would soon slide over his aching cock by sinking his fingers into your plush grip. You quickly stop his plot by plopping your hips flush to the bed so that he can get no further than groping your ass.

“Ah ah ah, I didn’t say you could touch me yet,” you reprimand. Buggy whines back at you and you nip his upper inner thigh. “Hands,” you command, holding your own out. Even with his protests, he detaches his hands and floats them to your own. You link your fingers together with his then shove his hands down into the mattress, leaning your weight on them.

With him disarmed, you focus back to winding him up. Taking his head into your mouth, you begin swirling your tongue. Buggy manages to keep his hips from pushing more of him into you, but they shake with the effort. You turn your head to the side and begin massaging his head into the inside of your cheek, careful to keep your teeth off of him. He bites out curses and looks down at you to burn the image of your cheek bulging from his cock into his mind forever. He begins to let his hips lead the movements pressing out your cheek, so you pull him back out of your mouth.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Buggy pleads. He needs to keep feeling you or he’s sure he’ll go insane.

“I didn’t hear you say please,” you snark at him. He starts chanting the word for you in hopes to fix his mistake and earn your mouth back, but you’re already decided on the matter. Instead of sucking on him again, you simply nose around his hips and crotch to tease him, using what you could with your hands occupied restraining him. You found you enjoyed it; he smells strongly of clean skin and sex and the new method of touching him lets your brain notice new details to cherish. “It’s too late, silly clown,” you taunt.

When he can take no more, Buggy detaches an arm and bends it around the back of your neck. He pulls you into him by the crook of his elbow and growls out, “more”. You glare up at him before quickly taking him back into your mouth, all the way to the back of your throat, grinding his head there while sucking harshly and gripping his balls.

Buggy yelps out an apology, the sensation way too much to process so suddenly. His arm flies back to him and you ease your grip on him. You soothe him with a few gentle bobs of your head before popping off and leaving a kiss to the soft skin on the underside of his cock. That sharp hit to his nerves chased by the tender touch fogs up his mind.

“I’ll do what you want, please tell me what you want,” he begs.

“What I want-” you’re crawling your way back up his body, “-is for you to be honest with me. Tell me what you’ve been hiding this whole time.”

Buggy’s face scrunches in genuine confusion. “I’m not hiding anything from you.”

“You sure?” you press. You lean towards his lips, which gently part in anticipation of a kiss. The moment before your lips brush, when you feel his stuttered breath, you change course and ghost your lips across his jaw to his ear. “But it would make me so happy if you just told me,” you whisper. “You usually make me feel so good.” You can feel him listening intently. “You don’t want to be good for me?” He stills completely. “Don’t you want to be my good little toy?” His whole body shivers beneath you. You kiss and suck your way down his neck and he leans his head away to give you as much access as possible. “Just say it baby and I’ll make you feel good.”

If you weren’t so busy buried in his neck, you would see the breathtaking mix of apprehension and need flaring in his bright eyes while he debates how to answer you.

“I want you to use me. I-” he trails off and looks away, losing his nerve.

You begin gently petting his hair and placing kisses on the side of his face. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” He looks back at you and his shining eyes and furrowed brow plead for the promise that you’re telling the truth. You give him a firm kiss on the lips, which he eagerly returns with a small suckle to your bottom lip. You pull back to check in, looking into his eyes, before encouraging him again. “Keep going, lovely. I wanna hear it.”

Buggy tenses once more before he seems to let his resistance break and fall out of every muscle, leaving him limp and prone amongst the pillows and sheets. “I want to be your toy - I want you to take charge and do what you want to me. I want.. I want to follow your orders.”

The kiss you gift him is ravenous, and he fills with relief. “You’re so good to me, baby,” you praise, and that relief triples.

You reassuringly squeeze his captive hands and lead your way back down his body with your lips. The transition helps relax him and loosens his mind again. As you get back to your sweet torture, he keeps reaching downward not remembering that his hands aren't there then whining when he doesn’t reach your head. You switch his hands to being clamped between your knees so you can scratch your nails down his thighs, using just enough pressure to leave long pink trails. Taking it further, you move your mouth away from his dick to work across his v-line. Buggy gets more fussy at the lack of attention on his cock, squirming and whimpering below you.

Mouth still busy on his soft skin, you use one hand to palm over his balls to the underside of his dick and curl your hand closed around him, one finger at a time. You angle his cock upright, enjoying the feeling of his precum beginning to trail down across your fingers. Your mouth changed course back closer to him, emptying his mind of any thoughts but “yes, yes, yes-”. He blanks out completely when your blazing hot tongue drags across his balls during a squeeze and a pump of his dick. The relief is short lived when your grip loosens and stills and your mouth leaves him completely. His head snaps down to see why you stopped and he sees that you’re already giving him a malicious smirk. Your eyes stay on his when you pucker your lips to blow on his aching tip. His head snaps back sharply, the movement exaggerated by his hair.

“You’re going so sloooow,” Buggy complains, frustrated. “I thought you were gonna take care of me.” He sounds impressively sulky.

“If you’re not happy with my services,” you start in a measured tone, moving forward until you are nose to nose, “then you can take care of yourself.” His face pales. You look down at his dick in your hand thoughtfully before saying, “Better yet I can just steal your cock and run off to the showers to take care of myself.”

“No!” Buggy wants it to come out like an order but it is definitely an anxious plea.

“Oh, so you’re telling me I can’t?” He shrinks even more under your glare, making you feel powerful.

“Just stay in here, pleeeease, need to see you feel good,” Buggy begs, voice small. “Don’t even need to cum, just need you.”

You aren’t supposed to give in unless on your own time, but knowing that he’s only thinking of your pleasure is making you weak.

“I thought you wanted to be my good little toy and good toys don’t whine and make demands. They are happy with what they’re given if their owners give them anything at all.” He whimpers. “Right now you’re more of a fucking brat.”

“Noooooo,” his broken complaint sounded delicious, but the look on his face was nearing too close to real distress.

“No?” You mock. You look down at him with a condescending pout. Your eyes bore into his, needing to notice every little detail of his next reaction. “Oh, baby, if you’re not a brat then you’re just a pussy-hungry slut.”

Buggy shuts his eyes and moans loudly at your words. The sound of his own voice calling you a cock-hungry slut many times over echoes from his memories. He didn’t think having his own insults turned on him would feel so invigorating. It’s clear to you that that is much more what he wants to be for you. Your slut; not your brat. How sweet. When all his layers are peeled back he only wants to please.

“That’s okay you sick little thing. You just can’t help it, can you?” He shakes his head with those gorgeous, shining eyes pleading at you. “If you’re so hungry, I guess I gotta feed you so you can shut. up.”

Before his mind even realizes that you began moving, you flip around and sit directly on his face. Your strong thighs are clamping his arms down to his sides, leaving his hands to be snatched up in your own again. You’ve positioned yourself so his mouth is at your clit and his nose is teasing your entrance. He gives a thick inhale and presses his tongue out to lap at you with a satisfied moan.

“Much better,” you groan, completely self-satisfied.

You waste no time before you begin rocking your hips. The room fills with the sloppy sounds of him licking and sucking at you, overly enthusiastic about having your pussy in his face.

“Now stick out that tongue for me,” you order, giving him his only warning before you drop much of your weight down to get the best pressure of his tongue, nose, and chin against you. The sensation has you clenching against the surface of his nose, getting it wet. You switch between a few long grinds from cupid’s bow to chin and making sharp circles of your clit on his tongue.

Buggy barely gets any time to fully breathe and he loves it. His head has become a murky swirl of your addicting taste and smell and the lovely sounds of you moaning for him. It sends pleasure prickling through him, making him burn with need, but he’s sure he’d stay on this painful precipice forever if it meant you kept using him to feel good. Buggy’s moans are becoming slurred whines as he gets drunk off your pussy. He was trying so hard to be perfect for you. He would stiffen his tongue to grind back into you or curl the end up for you to use on your clit. He’s ignoring his nerves at having his nose be an active participant, because he feels the way you follow its pressure. His hands are clamped on yours, floating in front of you to give you better leverage to move. He’s done good to not pull either of them away and give his leaking cock the relief it desperately needs. He deserves a reward.

You bring his hands in to place them on your breasts, where they need no direction to start working you. The warm, grounding pressure of them kneading your breasts is broken up by little circles, pinches, and pulls to your nipples that send tingles to your spine and straight down to your clit. Once they’re settled on you, you curl forward to place your head back in front of his red, twitching dick. You put your elbows down by Buggy’s sides and take advantage of the fact that he’s too lost between your legs to notice where you’ve put your face.

Buggy arches and yelps when you blow strong, cold air on his head and tease your fingertips along his Apollo's belt. His utter excitement at your attention shows in his bucking hips and pressing face. His whole body is buzzing with the thought, “I did good!”

“Your mouth is fucking good, perfect for an eager slut” you praise. Buggy keens loudly into you, sending strong vibrations through your pussy. “I’ll have to steal your head as my seat more often.” You flick your tongue on his frenulum, earning a strong twitch. “I’ll hunt you down any time I need to cum and force you down under me,” you promise in a husky voice.

Finally, you slide him into your mouth and moan at the familiar taste and weight and heat. He’s as sensitive as you’ve ever seen him, hips and cock jerking. You tease a hand down to cup his balls and feel them pull tight while his dick starts a familiar pulse, his voice going wild in your ears. Oh?

“Not so fast, stupid doll,” you warn, moving your hand to make a tight ring around the base of his cock. “Thought you could just cum without getting me off first?”

Buggy tries to get out apologies but his mouth is too busy buried in your pussy.

“I’m touching you as a reward. Don’t get greedy,” you scold. Then you’re putting him back in your mouth and he’s sobbing under your cunt. You couldn’t do anything more than light sucking and trailing your hands on him before you’d have to pull back and keep him from cumming. Each time, he’d try to apologize and each time he would look and sound more and more pathetic. By the time you feel the pressure of your own orgasm pulsing throughout your hips, he’s shaking like a leaf.

The crackling complaint Buggy let out when you pulled yourself off of his face was heartbroken. His fingers slipped and pulled as they made their way from your breasts down to your hips, where they weakly tried to pull you back down on him.

“Shhh sweet boy,” you soothed, placing your hands reassuringly over his, “I’m just gonna use your cock now, gotta give that pretty face a break.”

That quickly distracts him from the loss of your touch, if his urgent pleas and raised hips are anything to go by. You get down to his hips and lean forward slightly, gripping firmly onto each of his warm thighs for stability. You admire the lines that twist over them as his muscles move and react to you. Feeling a little bit sadistic, you grip them hard enough to bruise and hover just close enough to his cock so that he feels the heat of you there but only the ghost of your touch.

“Please touch me,” he begs. “So close, need to feel you-”

Buggy continues to babble and you continue to hover, delighting in the way his dick would sometimes jump up to tap your entrance, electrifying both of you. He squirms under the strength and weight of your grasp on his thighs, trying to chase you with his hips. Suddenly, he splits his legs off above your grip and is finally able to grind fully into you, gliding smoothly through the thick mix of slick, spit, and precum between you. An absurdly hot groan rushes out of him, starting as all exhale before morphing into a loud tone supported by a rumble in his chest. Your mind blanks with your own gasping moan before you recenter yourself and let your dead weight drop on him, shoving his hips deeply down into the mattress.

You had angled your hips to save your clit from all pressure but the tap of his balls when they bounced up from the impact, but Buggy was given no such mercy. The first hit between your weight and the bed presses his cock near painfully between the two of you, but he can’t deny the way the feeling sent prickles across his every nerve and the relief after it let up has him baring his teeth in his bid to not cum. Instead of nice grinds, you simply oscillate your weight around your hips to keep giving him too much stimulation but not the right kind.

“Am I not doing good enough for you?” you ask, voice carrying a warning that he better answer properly.

“N-no I love it, I was just-”

“Just what?” you interrupt, hand moving from bruising his thigh to cup his balls, adding to the threat in your tone.

“Couldn’t think! S-sorry, I’m sorry -hhhanh- ” Buggy keeps his apologies streaming because he can’t stop disobeying you - he can’t help making tight little movements of his hips against you to feel more of you.

“Having trouble being the one fucked stupid, little whore?” you goad. “Don’t like being so pussy-whipped you can’t think like a person anymore?”

“I love it,” he moans, fiercer than you expected. “Need it -hahh- need you, I’m yours, need to be yours.”

Fuck, you need to get him inside you; you were too close to cumming empty from hearing him talk like that. You keep the hand on his balls, starting to fondle them, and use the other to line him up with your entrance. You can already feel bliss curling in your toes as his fat head presses at you, but Buggy does the last thing you expect - he pulls back.

“No!” his voice breaks and you whip around, scared that something was wrong. He’s staring at you with wide, wet eyes. “Turn around, please, please, wanna see you.” You relaxed knowing he wasn’t hurt or scared or uncomfortable. He begins to have trouble looking at you, turning his head away shyly and letting some of his hair sweep over to shield his face. “Want you to look at me.”

You’re getting whiplash after being thrown from panic to overwhelmed with affection so quickly. You move slowly and smoothly when you turn yourself around and slink your body down over him. You rest on your elbows and slowly lower your hips back down to him, this time grinding his head against your clit generously. Buggy’s head spins between the fire you’re tending in him and the loving way you hold his face and brush away his hair.

“You sure you can take it, honey?” you ask softly. “You can’t even look at me right now.”

“I can!” he asserts, needing to prove himself to you. He turns his face to yours and flicks his gaze to your eyes and away a few times before he’s able to lock eyes with you. You pet his face and continue your smooth grinding, taking the time to look at him like he wants you to. Buggy’s face is the most beautiful shade of pathetic you’d ever seen; shimmering tear tracks highlight skin that is pink and flushed and damp with sweat. The color of his cheeks brings out the ruby color of his nose and you can’t resist brushing your own nose against it. He tries to flinch back but you follow him. When he turns his face away, you lure him back to you with sweet kisses. When he faces you again, you intensify the stable grinding you’ve kept up to nudge him a little closer to the edge once again.

“So pretty,” you whisper, reverent and honest. Your eyes are looking right into his, seeing him in a way that has him feeling worshiped. Loving fingers map out the structure of his cheekbones and jaw, moving on to chart his lips. They kiss at your fingertips sweetly. “I have the prettiest toy on the seas. Better than any other treasure.”

He perks up at that, giving you a moan and bucking hips.

“You wanna be my treasure?” you ask, getting an immediate, breathy “yes” from him.

“Well I love every bit of my treasures, from their gems to their dents,” you tell him. “After they’ve caught my eye with their beauty, the only thing they need to do to stay my treasures is let me care for every piece of them.” You brush your noses together again, staring at him pointedly. “Can you do that for me?”

There’s real conflict in Buggy’s eyes and you slow your hips to let him think. After a few long breaths, his whole body tenses and he nudges his nose back into yours in a hesitant eskimo kiss.

You turn your head and crash your lips on his in a consuming kiss full of teeth and tongue and praises. You’re bursting with your pride and love from his show of trust and he’s lost in the flood of your acceptance. Your hips are insistent again and, without breaking the kiss, you reach down and, at last, guide his cock into you.

Buggy cranes his head back again, so you switch to sucking and biting his neck. You can’t taste or feel enough of him, he’s not close enough. Even when he’s deep enough to lick at your cervix you need more of him. Even though he’s wedged you open enough for you to feel the pressure of it in your hips. Even though he’s crammed between your legs, ringing in your ears, sinking under your nails, sitting on your tongue, filling your breath - none of it is enough, so you keep taking more from him.

Though his hands have found their way onto your hips countless times, this grip felt foreign. Normally they’d hold firm and sure and guide you to move just how he needs you to. Right now, his grip is somehow tighter even though it’s all pawing and clawing. He has no control on how you fuck him, he’s just desperately trying to hold on for the ride and grasp more you - he’d do absolutely anything if it meant he’d get a single bit closer to you - to knowing nothing in this world other than every inch, every sound, every feeling that you have to offer. And then he’d beg for even more.

“Talk to me, treasure, tell me how you feel,” you urge.

“I -mngh!- I-I feel-” Buggy gasps out. It’s clear he’s trying to listen to you but that pretty little head of his is scrambled. He keeps his foggy eyes on you in an attempt to focus, despite how much they want to roll back behind fluttering lids. He pants and moans a few more times before licking his lips and trying again. “-’s good, so good, s-so -uungh- s’gooooood -hahh-”

“That’s my good man, my perfect treasure, my sweet love,” you coo somewhere between a whisper and a moan. The way he’s stretching you open, rubbing at you with his hot cockhead is fraying your control. The freedom to call him “love” sends flutters through your chest. Buggy is just as desperate for the claim, each time he hears the word a keening whine answers it.

“Please, please, need you to cum,” he pants. “Can’t -hhah- c-can’t-”

“You can and you will.” The command leaves no room for argument.

You’re getting so close, feeling the promise of your release in the tingle of your fingers, the heat searing through your trembling thighs, and the tight gripping in your body all the way from your throat to your pussy. The feelings pulse stronger with each clap of your hips to Buggy, each time his thick cock shoves you open and lights up every buzzing nerve that it rubs through your walls.

“Fuck, love, you can cum.” He feels your lips form the words against his racing pulse. It’s hard to keep track of what you’re saying through the white out in your head and the heat licking through your entire body. Your words rush out desperately, trying to get your scattered thoughts to him through a heavy tongue and a lack of air. “You’re so, so good, feel so good, gonna cum so fucking hard, love it so much, fuck, love how you make me feel so good-”

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you-” he gasps out on loop as his hips stutter and his cock jumps, filling you up. His pathetic thanks and the feeling of him releasing into you send you over the edge and everything burns so good. Your body involuntarily bucks and trembles on him for a few seconds where you have no say. You find yourself caving into him under the weight of your clenching muscles. Every clench of your cunt around him feels long and gripping and lets your swollen walls feel him with a little more detail. You make small, slow circles of your hips to wring out his climax, which seems never ending. Rush after rush of hot cum fills you until it’s spilling back into his lap, but his hands still encourage your movements and his body still shakes and trembles and he still babbles praises into your shoulder. Even when the aftershocks are settling to fewer and further between, he lets out a pathetic whine any time you stop moving in an attempt to give him some respite. After indulging him in another minute of overstimulation, you slowly lift off of him, receiving an upset groan. You hush him with trailing hands and sweet kisses, which he happily returns.

When his breathing is finally steady, you take a moment to check him over. His face is so relaxed he actually looks knocked out, but he does hum in response to your light squeeze on his shoulder. Buggy’s lashes have always been beautiful, but they look especially nice sending shadows across his cheek bones. His hair is a wild mess around him, and it feels silky between your fingers when you detangle it. His broad chest is still moving a bit fast with his breath, but each rise is a bit larger and longer. You admire the way his breathing moves the red spots and pink streaks decorating him, especially enjoying their contrast to his blue chest hair. His throat bobbing on a heavy swallow points your attention back upwards, and you admire the way his dark stubble makes his jaw even sharper. A little higher, you notice how red and swollen his lips are and how shining tear tracks dry across his face. You’d never seen him so fucked out. It looks gorgeous on him.

Since Buggy is calm and settling, it’s time to get up and clean you both up a bit. This time he communicates his displeasure at your absence with a petulant grunt. You turn back with a raised brow to sass him but break out in laughter instead when you see he couldn't even muster the energy to turn his head toward you. You don’t think this man has even opened his eyes since before he came.

“Don’t worry, love, I’m just getting a towel to clean up.”

A begrudging grunt.

Good enough.

After quickly taking care of yourself, you reappear with a warm, damp towel. The moment Buggy feels your weight back on the bed, he musters all of his remaining strength and pulls you on top of him. You giggle while he grumbles something into your shoulder.

“One more time, Bugs.”

He sighs like you are the most unreasonable person he has ever met, and you laugh at the deja vu you’re feeling. His lips move up to your ear and you hum happily at the tingles his breath leaves behind. “You took too long.”

You roll your eyes. “Sorry, your highness. Just trying to make sure we don’t wake up sticky in a puddle. Now come on, it’s your turn.”

On the third attempt to pull back, he finally lets you go (with yet another grumble) and you set to work on wiping him down. You begin with his face, enjoying the hum he lets out at the light warmth in the soft cloth, and move down to his neck. You spend a little bit of extra time on his shoulders and chest, massaging between swipes of the towel. He obnoxiously flings each arm at you when you are ready for them, just to hear you laugh another time. He enjoys the emptiness of his head while you move to his calves and work your way up. On his thighs and stomach, you sprinkle sweet kisses that leave his heart feeling gooey. He falls in love with you all over again when you blow a raspberry on his side to rouse him once he gets too close to dozing off.

He thinks he is all out of aftershocks until he is savoring the last few when you finish cleaning him up. You leave a loving kiss on the sensitive skin just inside his hip bone, before standing up, again to a groan. Buggy was always touchy after sex (and honestly touchy in general; you’re surprised he doesn’t demand you to hold a detached hand at all hours) but this is something else. It has you thinking of how much you crave his affirming touch whenever he is pushy or rough with you during sex. You’re both lucky that you find his pouting endlessly endearing. Grabbing the blankets that had fallen from the foot of the bed, you finally make your way back to him.

“Took you long enough.” Buggy’s words are bratty, but his tone is sweet and starstruck. He’s making sure to enjoy the last bit of seeing you clearly before you turn off the light.

“Fine - next time I’ll throw you a towel and go find a clean hammock for myself,” you tease. “That should be much quicker.” You plop onto the bed next to Buggy, jostling him, and you fluff the blankets out over the two of you.

“Noooooooooo,” he whines. “You’d leave me to fend for myself like that? I’d die.” Even with the dark, the way you two move to intertwine is coordinated and sure, played out many times before.

“I’m pretty sure there’s cryptid in your bloodline; you should do just fine with survival,” you laugh, snuggling deeper into him. As always, a deep inhale of him (saltwater, spices, leather, smoke, musk) has you immersed in your safe space. “Aren’t you the self-proclaimed untamable man, oh great Captain Buggy?”

“I’ve been domesticated-” you guffaw “-and it’s all your fault so you need to take some responsibility for your actions.”

You settle your laughter and look to meet his gaze. By now your eyes have adjusted just enough for you to see the moonlight from the porthole reflecting in his eyes. The unguarded affection you spot in them stalls your breath.

“Okay.” The word promises much more than he had asked. The meaning seems to reach him, because he holds you just that much closer and plants a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

The brushing of the waves on the thick wooden sides of the ship guides your breath to deepen. The creaking of wooden boards and distant thunking of feet on the deck comfort you with their familiarity. Buggy is just barely hanging onto consciousness, trying to keep his fingers tracing nonsense patterns on your skin. The last things your mind holds onto are the warmth seeping from Buggy’s body, the gentleness of those calloused fingertips, and the sleepy slur of his tender mumble.

“Goodnight, my brightest star.”

#buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown #opla buggy #one piece #thirst hours #my writing #buggy smut #buggy x y/n #one piece smut #gn reader #afab reader #x reader

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amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

Note

we have to hear the ikea story from the tony first christmas one now you can’t keep us from that 😭

FROGS, GLOBES AND BURNT CHOCOLATE (prequel)

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: prequel of this one shot but can be read separately

ᯓ★ Word count: 3.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: the story of how Tony got banned from IKEA

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing just some innuendos

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead as the two of you stepped through the automatic sliding doors, the cool air of the showroom washing over you. The familiar scent of cinnamon rolls and fresh-pressed particleboard filled the air, promising adventure—or chaos, as Tony had so ominously predicted on the drive over.

“IKEA,” he said, dragging the name out like it was the punchline to a joke only he got. “A labyrinth designed by the gods to test your patience, your endurance, and your willingness to assemble furniture using a pictogram manual written by a sadist.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you replied, grabbing one of the oversized yellow shopping bags from the stand by the entrance. “It’s just a furniture store.”

“It’s an obstacle course,” he countered, slipping his sunglasses into the pocket of his leather jacket. “But don’t worry, I’m here to guide you through it. Like Theseus in the maze, except I’m way better looking and much less likely to be eaten by a mythical bull.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a grin as you pulled him toward the showroom. “If you’re Theseus, does that make me Ariadne? Should I leave a trail of meatballs so we don’t get lost?”

“I like the way you think,” he said, draping an arm casually over your shoulders as you walked. “But let’s be real: I’d find the meatballs, eat them, and then leave you to fend for yourself. Every Stark for himself.”

The first few minutes were surprisingly tame. You strolled through mock living rooms and kitchens, picking out lamps and throw pillows while Tony alternated between critiquing the design choices and pointing out absurdities in the naming conventions.

“‘LÅNGFJÄLL,’” he said, squinting at a sleek gray office chair. “Sounds like a sneeze.”

“It’s Swedish,” you reminded him, tossing a cozy-looking blanket into the bag. “Not everything is meant to be Stark-level glamorous.”

“Oh, I’m not judging,” he replied, smirking. “I’m just saying if I had a billion-dollar empire to name, I’d go with something a little less…phlegmy.”

You nudged him playfully as you entered the bedroom section, where rows of neatly made beds stretched out like a sea of linen-covered clouds. Tony immediately flopped onto the nearest one, spreading his arms wide and letting out a dramatic sigh.

“This,” he said, his voice muffled against the pillow, “is where I live now. You can come visit, though. Bring snacks.”

“Get up,” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “We’re here to buy furniture, not embarrass ourselves.”

“I can multitask,” he quipped, sitting up and ruffling his hair. “What’s next? Coffee tables? Nightstands? An overpriced abstract rug we’ll regret in six months?”

“Beds,” you said firmly, dragging him toward a display of frames. “We need a new one, remember?”

He groaned but followed, occasionally pulling out his phone to snap pictures of the more outlandish setups. “For posterity,” he explained, zooming in on a loft bed shaped like a treehouse. “Or blackmail, depending on how this trip goes.”

It was around the third mattress test that things started to go off the rails. Tony, determined to prove that one of the memory foam options was subpar, launched into an impromptu demonstration of its bounce resistance by dramatically flopping onto it like a stage actor fainting in a Shakespearean tragedy. The mattress responded by launching a decorative pillow halfway across the room, narrowly missing a disgruntled shopper.

“Oops,” he said, feigning innocence as you tried to stifle a laugh. “Maybe they should rethink calling it ‘memory foam.’ Seems like it forgot how to be stable.”

“Tony,” you hissed, grabbing his arm as the nearby employee shot you a warning glare. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“Relax,” he said, pulling you closer with a grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating. “It’s IKEA. Getting kicked out would be a badge of honor. Now, where’s that bunk bed section? I’ve always wanted to test a slide.”

“I am not bailing you out if you break something,” you warned, though you were already losing the battle against his infectious enthusiasm.

You knew you’d regret saying it, but against your better judgment, you followed him anyway.

The bunk beds came into view like a beacon of impending chaos, a forest of miniature ladders and plastic slides. Tony’s face lit up with the kind of mischievous glee that usually preceded a major scandal or a ruined dinner party. You grabbed his arm, your reflexes honed after months of living with a man who turned everything into a science experiment.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned, your voice low and firm.

“Think about what?” he replied, his tone laced with mock innocence. “I’m just admiring the craftsmanship. The ergonomics. The sheer audacity of a bed that doubles as a jungle gym.”

“You’re plotting something,” you accused, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m plotting nothing,” he said, raising his free hand as if swearing an oath. “Except maybe how to convince you to let me buy one of these for the office. Imagine the brainstorming sessions we could have on that bad boy.”

His gaze lingered on a particularly garish bunk bed with a bright red slide attached, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. Before he could make his move, you steered him away, your fingers tightening on his arm.

“Focus,” you said, dragging him back toward the section with grown-up beds. “We’re here to find something for us, not for your inner child.”

“But what if my inner child needs closure?” he countered, pouting dramatically. “I was deprived of the bunk bed experience as a kid. I think it’s why I’m so emotionally stunted.”

“You’re emotionally stunted because you’re Tony Stark,” you retorted, though your lips twitched with the effort of holding back a smile.

“That’s fair,” he conceded, following you begrudgingly into the adult furniture section. “But I stand by my point. Bunk beds are an untapped market for innovation.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you released his arm. “Why do I feel like every time we go shopping, I end up babysitting you?”

“Because I’m irresistibly fun,” he replied, flashing you a grin. “Admit it, you’d be bored without me.”

Your response was cut short when you reached the display of bed frames, an array of sleek headboards and minimalist designs stretching out before you. Tony let out a low whistle, stepping closer to inspect a dark wood frame with clean lines and a tufted headboard.

“This one,” he said, running his hand over the polished surface. “It’s got that ‘classy but secretly kinky’ vibe. Like us.”

You choked on a laugh, shooting him a scandalized look. “Tony!”

“What?” he said, smirking. “Am I wrong?”

You glared at him, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your composure. “We’re not buying a bed based on…that.”

“Why not?” he asked, leaning casually against the frame. “It’s an important factor. A bed’s gotta be functional and…multifunctional.”

“Tony, I swear—”

“Relax, I’m kidding,” he said, though the glint in his eye suggested otherwise. “Mostly. But seriously, what do you think? Too much? Not enough?”

You stepped closer, trying to focus on the actual furniture and not the way Tony’s voice dipped into that low, teasing register that always made your thoughts wander. The bed was beautiful, its understated elegance perfectly suited to the vision you had for your shared bedroom.

“It’s nice,” you admitted, running your fingers along the smooth wood. “I like it.”

“See? We’re already agreeing,” he said, straightening up. “That’s progress.”

He moved to another frame, this one with a sleek metal design that practically screamed “modern bachelor pad.” Tony turned to you, raising an eyebrow.

“This one feels very ‘I make poor life decisions but look good doing it,’” he mused. “Too on-the-nose?”

“Way too on-the-nose,” you agreed, stifling a laugh.

You continued down the aisle, pausing every so often to inspect a bed or debate the merits of storage drawers versus a minimalist frame. Tony, of course, turned every option into an opportunity for mischief.

“What about this one?” he asked, gesturing to a canopy bed with flowing white curtains. “We could hang fairy lights and make it all romantic. Very Princess Diaries. Except with, you know, significantly fewer rules about what’s allowed in the castle.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, furniture shopping with me,” he said, his voice dripping with mock smugness. “If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

As you moved toward the couches, the banter continued, each piece of furniture becoming a springboard for Tony’s running commentary.

“This one’s great if we ever decide to host a sitcom,” he said, pointing to a beige sectional with a vaguely 90s aesthetic. “Can’t you just see a laugh track playing every time I walk into the room?”

“No one’s laughing, Tony,” you deadpanned, though your grin betrayed you.

He plopped onto a sleek gray sofa, stretching out dramatically. “Now this is a couch. Look at this. Perfect for late-night movies, spontaneous naps, and—”

“Don’t say it,” you warned, holding up a hand.

“—strategic cuddle sessions,” he finished, his grin widening. “What did you think I was gonna say?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting beside him and nudging his shoulder. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softening as he turned to look at you. For a moment, the playful spark in his eyes was replaced with something quieter, something tender. “And for the record, I love you too. Even if you do have terrible taste in throw pillows.”

“Excuse me?” you said, feigning offense. “You’re the one who picked out that hideous pineapple ornament for the Christmas tree.”

“That ornament has character,” he shot back, leaning closer. “Just like me.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you leaned into his side. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “you’re still here.”

Before you could respond, his lips brushed against your temple, a fleeting but deliberate gesture that sent warmth flooding through your chest. You turned to meet his gaze, and for a moment, the chaos of IKEA faded into the background.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the murmur of nearby shoppers. “Building a life together.”

He nodded, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah,” he said. “We are.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud crash from a few aisles over, followed by the unmistakable sound of a frustrated parent trying to wrangle a toddler. Tony glanced in the direction of the commotion, then back at you, his grin returning.

“Speaking of chaos,” he said, standing and offering you his hand. “Shall we?”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “If you promise not to break anything—or test any more mattresses.”

“No promises,” he said, leading you toward the next section with a wink. “But I’ll try to keep it under control. For you.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered, though your smile lingered as you followed him, ready for whatever chaos came next.

Tony was on borrowed time, and you knew it. You’d seen that particular glint in his eye—the one that said he was about two minutes away from unleashing some kind of chaos. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to corral him. Tony Stark’s ability to turn a mundane situation into a headline-worthy event was unmatched.

“Do you think Frank needs a friend?” Tony asked as he stopped at a display of oversized fake plants, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“Frank the Tree doesn’t need a friend,” you said firmly, pulling him away before he could grab the monstera that had caught his eye. “He needs a stable environment where his caretakers don’t cause disasters.”

“Wow,” Tony replied, feigning offense. “Did you just call me a bad tree parent?”

“I called you a disaster magnet,” you clarified, steering him toward the dining section. “Which, frankly, is generous.”

Tony grinned, unbothered by your jab. “I prefer the term ‘agent of chaos.’ It sounds more distinguished.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you muttered, eyeing the sleek dining tables on display. “Now focus. We need something durable but not too big. Just enough for the two of us and maybe a couple of guests.”

Tony trailed behind you, his attention drifting from the tables to the bright blue dining chairs at the next display. “What do you think about these?” he asked, pulling one out and spinning it around. “They say, ‘I’m stylish but approachable.’ Like me.”

“They say, ‘I’m a bad idea in any room with white walls,’” you countered, shaking your head. “We’re sticking to neutrals.”

Tony groaned, slumping into the chair dramatically. “Neutrals are boring. Where’s the zing, the flair?”

“You are the zing and flair,” you shot back, flicking his forehead lightly. “The furniture doesn’t need to compete with you.”

Tony smirked, leaning back in the chair with a casual air. “That’s a good point. But you know what else I’m good at?”

“Causing scenes?” you guessed.

“Testing durability,” he said, standing and pulling another chair from the display. “These bad boys need to hold up to the wear and tear of daily life.”

Before you could stop him, Tony had stacked one chair atop another, balancing precariously as he climbed onto them like a child on a jungle gym.

“Tony, no—”

“It’s fine!” he called down, waving a hand as a couple of nearby shoppers turned to watch. “They’re built for this. I’m helping them with quality control.”

“Tony, get down before you—”

The chair legs wobbled ominously, and before you could finish your sentence, Tony was sent sprawling onto the display floor in a crash of tangled limbs and scattered chairs. A shocked silence fell over the aisle, broken only by Tony’s groan as he sat up, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket.

“Well,” he said, wincing as he stood. “I’d say they pass the durability test. Ten out of ten for resilience.”

You pressed a hand to your forehead, torn between exasperation and laughter as an IKEA employee rushed over, his face a mix of concern and annoyance.

“Sir, are you all right?” the employee asked, helping Tony steady himself.

“Never better,” Tony replied, flashing his trademark grin. “Just giving your furniture a thorough evaluation. You’re welcome.”

The employee’s polite smile faltered as he glanced at the scattered chairs. “Sir, we’d appreciate it if you didn’t, uh, climb on the furniture.”

“Noted,” Tony said, holding up a hand as if making a solemn promise. “I’ll stick to the ground level from now on.”

The employee looked unconvinced but nodded stiffly before walking away, leaving you to deal with the aftermath. You turned to Tony, arms crossed and your best glare locked in place.

“You’re impossible,” you said, though you couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“And yet, you love me,” he replied, reaching out to straighten your scarf like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“God help me, I do,” you muttered, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the next section. “Now behave, or I’m leaving you here.”

The brief lull in chaos didn’t last. By the time you reached the children’s section, Tony had regained his momentum. He wandered into a brightly colored play area filled with miniature furniture, his eyes lighting up as he spotted a bright red rocking moose.

“You’re not—” you began, but it was too late. Tony had already plopped down on the moose, his knees nearly to his chest as he attempted to rock back and forth.

“Look at this,” he said, his voice full of mock wonder. “Functional, stylish, and fun. Perfect for our future kids.”

You choked on air, your face heating instantly. “Excuse me? Future kids?”

“Don’t panic,” he said, grinning as he rocked harder. “I’m just saying, this moose has potential. We should take it for a test ride.”

“Tony, get off before—”

The rocking moose groaned under his weight, and with a loud snap, one of the legs gave way, sending Tony tumbling backward in a heap. A horrified employee appeared almost instantly, his face a mask of barely contained panic.

“Sir, you can’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Tony said, waving off the employee as he stood, rubbing his back. “No horseplay in the children’s section. My bad.”

The employee’s face turned several shades of red as he examined the ruined moose. “That’s not a horse. It’s—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it,” Tony interrupted, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “How much for the moose? Name your price.”

“Sir, I don’t think—”

“It’s fine,” Tony said, patting the employee on the shoulder. “Put it on my tab.”

You groaned, stepping in before things could escalate further. “We’re so sorry,” you said to the employee, your voice apologetic. “We’ll pay for the damages and leave right away.”

The employee nodded, muttering something about speaking to the manager as he hurried off. You turned to Tony, your glare now fully justified.

“You’re going to get us banned,” you hissed.

Tony shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “If you’re going to get banned from somewhere, it might as well be IKEA.”

Before you could respond, the manager arrived—a stern-looking woman in a crisp uniform who radiated the kind of authority that could terrify even the bravest soul. She approached with an air of barely concealed exasperation, her gaze flicking between you, Tony, and the broken moose.

“Is this the gentleman responsible?” she asked, her tone flat.

“That’s me,” Tony said, stepping forward with a confident grin. “Tony Stark. You might’ve heard of me.”

The manager’s eyebrow twitched. “I have, and that’s exactly why I’m surprised by this behavior.”

“Hey, I’m just a man of the people,” Tony replied. “Testing the furniture, making sure it’s up to IKEA’s legendary standards. You’re welcome.”

The manager didn’t flinch. “Mr. Stark, we appreciate your enthusiasm, but your behavior is disruptive. And destructive.” Her gaze hardened. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

Tony’s grin widened. “What, no second chances? That doesn’t seem very festive.”

“Effective immediately,” she continued, ignoring him. “You’re banned from this location.”

“That’s fair,” Tony said, nodding as if he’d just been handed a parking ticket. “Honestly, I’ve been kicked out of worse places.”

“—and every other IKEA store worldwide,” the manager finished, her voice firm.

That wiped the grin off his face. “Wait, worldwide? Isn’t that a little harsh?”

The manager crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You broke a rocking moose, stacked chairs like a Jenga tower, and disrupted our other customers. Consider yourself fortunate we’re not pressing charges.”

Tony looked genuinely scandalized. “You’re telling me I can’t set foot in any IKEA? Even the one in Sweden?”

“Especially the one in Sweden,” she said, her expression unyielding.

Tony turned to you, his face a perfect mixture of indignation and amusement. “Can you believe this? Banned for life. I’m a living legend.”

“You’re a living nuisance,” you replied, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit. “And we’re leaving before you make it worse.”

“Fine,” he said, though he couldn’t resist one last parting shot. “But for the record, your rocking moose has design flaws.”

The manager didn’t respond, but her glare could’ve melted steel.

As the automatic doors slid shut behind you, Tony let out a low whistle, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Well, that was a first.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you muttered, your tone somewhere between exasperation and affection.

“And yet,” he said, leaning closer as the chilly air nipped at your cheeks, “you’re still here.”

You sighed, shaking your head as a reluctant smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. I am.”

He grinned, brushing a snowflake from your hair. “See? I knew I picked the right person to get banned from IKEA with.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” he said, his tone turning soft as he met your gaze.

“No more rocking moose incidents.”

“Deal,” he said, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you have to admit, it was a hell of a ride.”

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sevendeadlywhispers · 1 year ago

Text

7Seals

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Chapter 2

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• Previous Chapter: Chapter One Next Chapter: Chapter Three •Content: Levi Ackerman x OC female. Canon verse!

• Word Count: 2.5k • Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with * at each chapter.

“I want to confess as best I can, but my heart is void. The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror. My indifference to man has shut me out. I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams.”

- Ingmar Bergman

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Hange's voice shattered the tranquility of my dreams, a morning sunbeam cast through my window. Blinking away sleep, their wide-eyed excitement loomed over me with a lamp illuminating the room.

"Hange, let me sleep," I groaned, flipping over and burying my face in the pillow, shoving the blanket over my head to fend off the morning invasion.

"No can do," Hange declared, ripping the blanket and pillow away with zealous determination.

"What the hell, Hange?" I moaned, propping myself up but unwilling to surrender the haven of my bed. "This better be good," I muttered into the mattress.

"Emergency meeting," Hange announced with urgency.

"I'm not a Captain," I complained, lifting my head to peer at them.

"Everyone is required to go," Hange explained. "It's some big news you don't want to miss."

"Tell me later," I mumbled, shoving my face back into the bed.

Hange's grip on my arm tightened, and suddenly I found myself on the cold floor, the warmth of my bed snatched away.

"We have to go. We seriously cannot be late," Hange urged, dragging me out of the room, my uncoordinated form stumbling in tow.

The hallway was a chaotic stream of scouts heading towards the mess hall, clad in uniforms I hadn't bothered to put on.

"Hange, you couldn't have let me get dressed," I groaned, glancing down at my nightgown, bare feet meeting the cold floor.

The final pull from Hange led us into the mess hall. The room buzzed with murmurs, scouts huddled together, an undercurrent of confusion weaving through the air. Still half-asleep, I tried to make sense of the situation, unsure of what had stirred everyone into this early assembly.

"Alex!" I yelled, waving my hand as I spotted him emerging from the crowd. Behind him, as always, were Miche and Oluo.

"It's happening," he declared as he joined us.

"So it's real?" Hange's eyes sparkled, their smile growing wider, hands trembling with excitement.

"Can someone fill me in on what the heck is going on?" I grumbled.

Alexander looked me over, a critical gaze from head to toe.

"You couldn't get dressed?" he scoffed, pulling off his jacket and draping it over me.

"Sorry, Hange pulled me out of bed," I explained, adjusting the jacket.

"Whatever. Next time, don't come out here looking like a fool," he groaned, scolding me.

"It's embarrassing."

I barely had time to react to Alexander's words when a familiar loud voice sliced through the crowd's murmurs, capturing everyone's attention.

"Today, the Scout Regiment sees change," Captain Erwin announced from the stairs above, his presence capturing everyone's attention.

"Our captains will be put to the test to see if they are fit to lead. Scouts will be examined for potential new captains."

Whispers surged through the crowd like a storm.

"What does he mean, 'fit to lead'?" Alexander scoffed. "Is he going to demote us?"

"Captain Erwin can't demote," I tried to reassure him.

"Starting today, I will be leading the Scout Regiment from this point on. There will be a lot of changes coming, so please brace yourselves," Erwin declared. "Tomorrow, at the first 8 o'clock hour, we will be heading out on an expedition. The main objective is to survey the area and for me to evaluate you all. Any comments, questions, or concerns can be addressed today at my office. You all are dismissed."

Erwin left, leaving us in stunned silence. Anger and panic echoed through the room in a cacophony of voices.

"What does this guy think he's doing?" Oluo exclaimed.

"Hange, did he explain this in the meeting last night?" Alexander questioned.

"No, he only mentioned becoming the commander," Hange replied.

"Then why the hell is he just now saying this?" Alexander complained. "I worked my tail off to be a Captain. I'm not giving it up now."

The confusion in the room mirrored my own state of mind. I wasn't angry, just lost in trying to understand what prompted this sudden change. Why didn't Shadis tell us himself? And why did he leave? It made sense that Erwin was to take over. He did everything for the Scouts, including initiation for the recruits something Shadis was supposed to do.

As the waves of anger and frustration crashed around me, I sought solace, walking away from the upset clusters of people to find a moment of clarity. I felt the gaze of those midwinter eyes once again. Leaning against the wall with arms crossed, he observed the chaos in silence. I took a seat on the bench next to him, offering a casual smile.

"What are your thoughts on this?" I asked, attempting to strike up a conversation as if we were old acquaintances.

"Tch," was all he let out. "Why are you out in your pajamas? You're going to catch a cold."

"Oh, this?" I replied, forgetting about my attire until the morning breeze reminded me.

"I didn't have time to change. Wasn't really given the option, either. I had just woken up." I laughed it off, feeling a bit embarrassed. Normally, I wouldn't care, but Alexander's words echoed in my mind, it was embarrassing that I was out in public in my pajamas.

Levi didn't respond, only his eyes scrutinizing me like I was a parasite clinging to his world.

"Are you excited for the next survey? This will be your second one, right?" I asked, attempting to shift the conversation away from the awkwardness of his judgmental scrutiny.

"Excited?" he responded flatly. "What's so exciting about watching others get devoured by titans?"

My attempt to lighten the mood only made the tension worse. I should've stopped talking, but I couldn't.

My words seemed to hang in the air, intensifying the awkwardness between us. "You're right. Pardon my mistake," I said, my tone trying to ease the tension. "Are you prepared? That's the more appropriate question to ask."

"No question is better," he replied with a bitter tone, and a moment of silence followed. I looked down at my lap, cringing at my own words.

"I'm prepared for whatever the commander throws my way. Are you?" Levi's voice broke the silence.

A smile crept onto my face, and I quickly looked back up to meet his eyes. They locked for a moment before he glanced away.

"I'm never prepared, but I'll be quick on my feet when the time comes," I said in a calm tone.

For that moment, it was nice to have a real conversation with him, even if he wasn't welcoming. But the moment faded as footsteps approached.

"Iris," Alexander's stern voice cut through.

I rose to my feet, meeting his glare.

"Is he bothering you?" Alexander asked, gripping my wrist and glaring at Levi.

"No," I quickly replied. "I was bothering him."

It seemed like Alexander didn't hear the last words I said. Like he wanted to ignore them. My eyes were glued to the ground, trying to ignore Alex's anger.

"Listen here, freak," Alexander's voice carried anger. "You stay in your lane, and we will stay in ours. That's an order. Got that?"

I looked up to see Levi's face completely unfazed by Alexander's harsh words. Levi only looked at Alexander's hand gripping my wrist and then back to me. Never once did I see him look at Alexander.

"Come on," I felt Alexander pull me away from the area as he walked through the crowd. My eyes still looked back at Levi as he watched us walk away.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed as I was dragged away from his line of sight.

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The world outside the walls was a breathtaking sight. The sky stretched endlessly, and the towering trees seemed to touch the heavens. Flowers adorned the landscape with wild abandon. Yet, this beauty came with a price.

"Abnormal to the right!" A scout's urgent cry pierced the serene scenery.

My eyes focused on the grotesque Titan charging mindlessly towards us, a twisted grin on its face, drool trailing from its mouth. The unfolding scene was abruptly interrupted when the Titan crashed face-first into the ground, blood splattering from the back of its nape. There he stood triumphantly on its head as he wiped the blades off with his handkerchief, disgusted by the blood.

Levi's swift action had averted a potential disaster. The casualties he prevented surprised me. One more second and we all could have been trampled.

"Good job, Levi!" I cheered, but the response from others was silent. They pretended the Titan went down on its own. Anyone else and they would have been cheering and profusely thanking them.

Burning eyes bore into the back of my head as we rode toward the woods. I knew it was Alexander, anger radiating from him, but I refused to let it dominate my thoughts.

Unfortunately, avoiding the confrontation proved futile. Alexander's horse closed the gap between ours. "What the hell was that?" he asked quietly.

"What was what, Alex?" I replied, my tone tinged with irritation.

"You know what,"

"No, I don't. Care to enlighten me?"

"Praising that rat," he groaned.

"You, of all people, should know I praise everyone for their Titan kills," I shot back, meeting his glare head-on.

"Captain Wright," Erwin's commanding voice intervened.

"Yes, sir?" Alexander responded, redirecting his attention to the mission.

"Your lack of attention is going to get you and your whole squad killed," Erwin's stern warning hung in the air. "Your insecurities are glaring. Fix it before it's fatal."

Erwin rode off, leaving Alexander visibly angered. The weight of change, with Erwin now the commander, was a tension in the air above all our heads.

Erwin saved me now but later is a different story.

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The velvet black canvas stretched for miles, adorned with iridescent lights scattered across the sky. Outside the walls, the expanse of the sky was boundless, a sight I cherished every time I stepped beyond the confinement.

Sunsets during our missions held a special allure. The hues painted across the horizon were a stark contrast to the constrained skies within the walls. Tonight, I wanted to venture out to the sky that seemed to stretch endlessly, promising a sanctuary of thoughts under the moon's watchful gaze.

The moon, my confidante, awaited me. No one else looked at me the way she did—listening intently, a beacon in my darkest moments. She bore witness to all my secrets, my fears, and the tears shed for fallen comrades.

Tonight, under the celestial gaze, I yearned to share the changes within the Scout Regiment. The prospect of transformation that lingered in the air, and I couldn't wait to confide in the silent confidante above.

In the tent, Alexander's snores were louder than ever. I wanted to shove a pillow on his face to stop his snoring. Sometimes I wonder if my insomnia is because of his late night snoring. Unfortunately disturbing his rare moments of piece felt like tiptoeing around a slumbering beast, and yet, the moon beckoned.

I slipped from Alexander's arms, donned my cloak and shoes, and secured my bag, casting a lingering look at the peaceful figure beside me. The captain's serenity in sleep was a stark contrast to the grumpiness he exhibited while awake.

The crackling fire greeted me as I stepped out of the tent. Someone tended to the flames, their figure cloaked in the flickering light. It intrigued me; late-night wanderers were usually a rarity during our missions. Who was up this late tending to a fire? It didn't bother me none, it was nice to have some company for once.

I plopped down next to them without much ceremony. "Couldn't sleep?" I asked, stretching my hands towards the fire for warmth.

Silence hung in the air, but I couldn't resist stealing a glance under their cloak. "Should've known it was you," I grinned. "How are you holding up?"

Their gaze remained locked on the dancing flames. "Fine," came the curt reply.

"Thirsty?" I pressed on, brushing off the cold shoulder.

No response, no eye contact. Nothing new.

"I'll take that as a yes," I chuckled, setting a pot of tea on the fire. While it brewed, I pulled out my sketchbook from the bag, ready to capture the night's beauty.

Drawing under the moonlight brought me unparalleled peace, and having Levi's silent company wasn't about to change that. I tossed back my hood, basking in the moon's glow with closed eyes.

"You're going to ruin the tea," Levi's voice cut through my tranquil moment.

"Pardon?" I said, meeting his gaze as he lifted the kettle from the fire.

"You're letting it steep for too long," he remarked. "And the fire is too hot. It should steep for three minutes if it's on a fire."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied. "Want me to make a new batch?"

"It'll suffice," he said, his tone as bland as ever.

I poured him a cup and served myself one too, watching as he grabbed it from the rim, just like the first time we met. It was a quirky habit, one he refused to let go. Something so small, yet I was intrigued—I wanted to know why the rim over the perfectly good handle on the side. It was a minor detail, but I craved understanding.

While I continued sketching the dim surroundings, I decided to break the silence.

"So, how do you like the Scouts so far?"

"I don't," he replied bluntly.

"Oh, well, why's that?" I asked, still absorbed in my sketch. His straightforwardness caught me off guard, though I shouldn't have been surprised.

"Everyone's arrogant assholes who think they are better than everyone," he stated.

"For a moment there, I thought you were talking about the MP's," I chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. But my attempt fell flat, met with silence. Once again, I realized he wasn't much of a talker.

"I'm sorry if Alexander is getting to you," I said quietly, looking up at him. His eyes were already locked on me. "He wasn't always a jerk. It doesn't help that all the guys feed his ego."

"Hmph," Levi breathed out, eyes shifting away as he crossed his arms. "Like I'd let that shit bag get to me."

I smiled, my gaze lingering on him. "Good. I'm glad," I said, lowering my voice and glancing around for unwanted visitors.

"It's about time someone stands up to him. But let's keep that between us."

Once again, silence draped around us like a comforting cloak. The more it happened, the more I found solace in it. My sketch continued to capture the moon's tender caress over the land as the night unfolded.

"What is that?" Levi's voice cut through the quiet after a while.

"This?" I said, lifting my sketch.

"Yeah, that," he grumbled.

"Oh, just a sketch of the night sky," I replied casually, doodling away. "It's a beautiful night out, isn't it?"

"I guess you can say that," Levi spoke, his words measured.

"Just look at how pretty she is, Levi," I said, tilting my head back to gaze at the moon. Once again, he didn't utter a word.

"Do you not like the night sky, Levi?" I inquired.

"It's not my favorite," he admitted, a slow opening up to me. A brief pause lingered.

"Do you?"

"Absolutely. She's always there for me. Whenever you need her, she's there," I explained.

"Who is she?" Levi asked, clearly confused.

"Well, the moon, silly," I said with a playful smile.

In time Levi, you'll learn to love the moon the way I do.

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#levi ackerman #snk levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi #ackerman family #levi #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot #snk #snk x reader

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hotcryptidsinyourarea · 8 months ago

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Falling for the Frogman of Loveland, Ohio

story synopsis: Molly is a 30-something cookbook editor who has decided to move from New York to Loveland, Ohio after a bad breakup and a desire for a fresh start. She is instantly attracted to her neighbor Jeremiah's midwestern charms, but this local guy is much more than meets the eye...

human (she/her) + interdimensional humanoid frogman (he/him) cw: lurking

Chapter 2

I come back from the grocery store with plenty of my staple favorites and a few treats to keep me motivated throughout the evening. I put the groceries away haphazardly then turn my attention to the business of getting as much of the house in order as possible. I was able to get the electricity, water, and gas set up before my arrival, but unfortunately I couldn’t get the internet turn on in time. I have that scheduled for tomorrow, thank god, because I am a modern woman who needs her internet access, dammit! I refuse to be disconnected. Fortunately, my cell phone reception is excellent and my data plan is unlimited, so I pick out a podcast and stream it on my phone’s speaker while I get to work. I’m practically a pioneer woman out here getting back to nature.

I don’t have too much to do this evening considering the bulk of my belongings aren’t here yet, but I still have those few boxes of essentials I need to unpack. Plus, I had my brand new mattress and bed frame delivered and ready to build. The delivery people were even kind enough to put the boxes in the backyard to reduce the chances of them being porch pirated. That part of the house is closed in, but the short picket fence itself is more about form than function. It’s easy enough for anyone to reach over it and unlock the gate that separates front and back. And at the back of the property, you can see clear over it to a small creek that runs perpendicular to my block, so anyone who may be walking back there could hypothetically look right into my yard. The exposure doesn’t bother me, per se, but I do wonder if such a backyard setup is ideal or if I’ll need to invest in something more secure in the future. I guess even if you don’t buy a fixer upper, home ownership is a promise of continuous renovation projects. It’s a good thing I have plenty of time on my hands in the months ahead. If only those hands were also equipped with the DIY skills I’ll need to tackle the agenda. I'm not a particularly handy gal, but I guess no one is until they try. And I might as well start with the relatively simple job of putting my bed together.

Whatever silly online bed-in-a-box company I used even had a deal where I could get a new frame, mattress, pillows, and bedding for a bundled price, so there are multiple boxes back there. I drag them inside and settle them one by one in the master bedroom before using the Swiss army knife my dad gave me for my 13th birthday to open them. Assembling the bed isn’t difficult– even with my lack of handywoman acumen– but it does take a while to actually complete. By the time I’m done, the room is a maze of boxes stuffed with plastic wrap and random cardboard pieces used to package the whole kit-and-kaboodle. It’s absolutely a mess, but I have a bed. No matter how much or how little I do for the rest of the day, I’ll be able to tuck in at the end of it for a good night’s sleep. I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, even though I’m basically doing the bare minimum.

Wanting some fresh air after my radical act of self-sufficiency, I drag the boxes back out into the yard and start breaking them down and bagging the rest to throw in the trash. Once I’m done, I figure I’ll stay outside to poke around the property a bit and give my brain a break in hopes it will recuperate enough for me to tackle another task. One of the things that really drew me to this home in particular was the aforementioned little creek that runs behind this block of homes. It’s not much– the depth won’t even clear my knees– but it’s still a gorgeous little slice of nature. I enjoy the gentle sounds of the running water and dip my toes in it. The water is cool and clear, but clouded with the silt of the creek bottom. A school of tiny fish with swatches of red-orange along their throats rush past my toes and I take it as a good sign. Immediately spotting wildlife surely means the creek is healthy, though I don’t claim to be an expert in the matter.

I notice the sunlight waning and head back inside. While there is still a good deal of unpacking I need to do, I’m also pretty hungry. It is time to make good with the groceries I packed up earlier. I pour myself a glass of wine and turn on the oven to preheat. Then I grab the multi-colored heirloom tomatoes, focaccia, fresh mozzarella, and pre-made pesto I picked up at the store and start preparing dinner. In my opinion, there isn’t a food combination out there that can top carb + tomato + cheese + green. No matter how you slice it, no matter how you spice it: it always hits. Grilled cheese with arugula and tomato soup? Sublime. Saag paneer with rice and tomato chutney? Mouthwatering. Cheesy spinach enchiladas with red sauce and pico de gallo? Que ricos. The spices may vary and the composition may shift, but with those four pillars as a foundation, you set yourself up for success.

It wouldn’t surprise a single person that knows me to find out the first real thing I do in my new home is cook a meal. Next to spending an entire day binging reality dating shows, cooking is what feels most natural to me. Taking a bunch of individual ingredients and transforming them into a completely new, separate product is about as close to real magic as I’ll ever get in this world. And there’s something meditative about the process. When I’m cooking, my mind isn’t on the ex boyfriend who left me or the uncertainty of my future in a new place where I don’t know a single person. All my attention is focused on slicing these tomatoes at a uniform width so they cook through evenly on top of the focaccia halves I’ve prepared with extra virgin olive oil and diced garlic. I arrange the tomato slices on the bread, alternating between colors to create a stunning visual. I pop the topped focaccia halves in the oven for the ensemble to bake through for about 10 minutes before taking them out and laying circles of mozzarella on top of the composition. I switch the oven to broil and back inside go my little toasts. I allow the broiler to melt the mozzarella and then some until I see a spattering of tiny burnt sienna leopard spots form on the surface before I remove them and drizzle with the bright and herbaceous pesto. Normally, I’d like to make my own sauces, but given my circumstances and limited kitchen accoutrement, I make do. I finish it all with a bit of fresh cracked pepper and a sprinkle of parmesan before I head outside to enjoy the first meal in my new home.

The old owners left a slightly rusted wrought iron patio set in the backyard and the night is warm and quiet, so it’s as good a place as any for me to eat. The chairs aren’t very comfortable and the table is a bit wobbly, but it works. I make a mental note to look up DIY wrought iron restoration projects for inspiration. I’ll have plenty of time for projects like that while I’m getting my footing in Loveland. Oh god, I’m going to become one of those girls whose life revolves around her “projects.” Maybe I’ll make an Instagram account where I document all my before and after photos. My dad has been getting on to me about establishing a secondary income stream now that I’m a homeowner.

But for now, I just want to enjoy my dinner and the satisfaction of finally being in my new place. My little caprese-focaccia pizza thing came out beautifully, but I think next time instead of pesto, It'd be better topped with fresh arugula and a drizzling of balsamic reduction to cut the richness of the cheese. I’m taking a sip of wine when a quick spark catches my eye. Then another– then another… Fireflies! Having a house that backs up to a creek means I’m located smack dab in the middle of their breeding grounds. I can’t help but smile as more and more luminescent flashes dance around the yard. It’s beautiful. I can’t even remember the last time I saw fireflies in the city. Sometimes you can spot them in the parks, but I read at some point that their numbers are rapidly declining due to habitat loss. But out here, there’s plenty of them bouncing around my yard and creating a veritable light show just for me. Maybe cooking isn’t the only magic left in the world. Maybe there’s more.

I take a sip of wine and breathe. I feel the tension ease from my body and think for the first time in many years, I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

But that comfort is short-lived. I hear a rustling in that dark that indicates I am not alone. I hear the splash of water– whatever it is, it’s somewhere down by the creek. It could be a raccoon, but my gut is telling me it must be something bigger to make that noise. Are there bears in Ohio? Or mountain lions? Surely if there are, they wouldn’t be traipsing around the suburbs, right? And would a wild animal be any more or less dangerous than the alternative– a stranger?

“Hello?” I ask the darkness. “Is somebody out there?”

I can feel my pulse quicken all the way up in my ears. Whatever– or whoever– is out there has triggered my somatic system into high alert. All the tension that had previously melted from my body is slowly building back up. My gut is telling me to go inside, but I can’t move. I argue with my intuition internally–

Surely you’re just being paranoid! Am I paranoid or is this the beginning of a new true crime docu-series where the Big City Lady gets hacked to death in Ohio because she doesn’t take the dangers of the midwest seriously. Okay, well that is a bit macabre, don’t you think? Macabre or realistic– remember that show about Jeffrey Dahmer? He killed people in Ohio! Jeffrey Dahmer only killed men. Girl. Don’t make excuses for Jeffrey Dahmer. I may be the voice inside your head, but even I know that’s crazy. You… may have a point there.

I hear another rustle and the splash of moving water again and the voice inside my head turns into a screaming alarm. Adrenaline shoots through my body and I gather the remnants of my meal and book it back inside, locking the back patio door behind me. I may just be a paranoid idiot freaking out over the harmless presence of the native fauna of the Great State of Ohio, but I don’t really care at the moment. As a woman in my 30s, I know the value of being safe rather than sorry. Hell, a woman of any age should understand it. You feel that lurch in your stomach, you get the fuck out of there. No time for questions, no doubts– you simply have to get your ass up and away before you have the time to really find out.

So instead of beating myself up wondering if I should give the Mystery Lurker a chance to prove they’re harmless, I clean up my dishes, pour another glass of wine, and double check that all my doors and windows are secure. Then after I wash my face, brush my teeth, and change into my nightgown, I tuck into my brand new bed, pull out my phone, and browse dog listings from the local animal shelter for a bit to distract myself from whatever spooked me out there. Thankfully, the bed is very comfortable and the events of the day were sufficiently taxing, so when I feel my eyes grow heavy, I log off and plug my phone in to recharge through the night. I close my eyes and fall asleep in no time at all, comforted by the protection of my new home.

At least, for now.

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chocoblep · 1 year ago

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#17: Reaching

Shev had returned from the tavern two nights ago with more on his mind than when he’d left for it. The discussion he’d had with Anzhi had lingered with him all of yesterday as he’d gone about helping their neighbor dig up their garden and run some necessary errands to pick up supplies and fix a leaking faucet in the bathroom. Every small job he’d done to tick off his honey-do list had left him feeling like the conversation he was going to initiate soon was just getting more and more important.

So it was, when Kismet stepped into the house for the first time since Fivesday afternoon, Shev stopped halfway through assembling a new shelf and trotted up the stairs to greet him. Anzhi was there, of course, and had already thrown his arms around Kismet when Shev got there, so he came in from the other side and gently peeled Kismet’s backpack off of his shoulders to settle it near the door.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, giving the lavender-haired Viera a one-armed squeeze that was probably just as tight as most peoples’ bear hugs.

“Thanks,” Kismet replied, sounding about as exhausted as Shev thought he might. This had been his first time out on a multi-day job since he’d shut himself down, and Shev was curious.

“How’d it go?” he asked, and Kismet gave both of them a sheepish little look.

“Well,” Kismet said, shifting a bit where he stood, “I managed to get the job done, but my heart wasn’t really in it.”

“No one can blame you for that,” Anzhi said softly, carding his fingers through the hair that framed Kismet’s face. Shev watched on with a thoughtful look.

“Well,” he said, laying his hand on Kismet’s tense shoulder, “Why don’t we work out th’ knots in yer back, and ya can relax a little before dinner? Anzhi’s got a roast goin’, an’ it’ll be an hour yet at least.” he gave Anzhi a meaningful look over Kismet’s shoulder, and Anzhi smiled.

Kismet fidgeted. “You don’t have to–”

“I insist.”

“He insists.”

Shev and Anzhi spoke in unison, and Kismet threw them both suspicious looks.

“Let us take care of you, Starlight,” Anzhi said, and they managed to guide Kismet downstairs to the bedroom, peel off his shirt, and get him situated face down on the mattress. He’d tried to point out the half-done shelf and Shev had just laughed and promised he’d get it done after they ate. But for now, Shev hopped up on the bed, straddled Kismet’s thighs, and bent to press the heels of his hands into the muscles along the other’s spine.

“Y’know,” Shev said, his voice low as Anzhi came to sit near Kismet’s head, gently untying his hair so he could give him a bit of a scalp massage. “Anzhi an’ I were talkin’ at th’ Tavern th’ other night…”

“Of course,” Kismet sighed out. “This is some sort of intervention, isn’t it?”

“Nah,” Shev answered, gently stretching out the muscles below his hands. Kismet groaned, and he smiled. “But Sunshine did tell me that yer afraid t’fuck some things up.”

Kismet’s shoulders tensed, and Shev brought his hands up to squeeze them a bit. After a moment, the tension began to bleed away between his fingers. “I…”

Shev leaned down and angled his hands to pull a nice stretch down the length of Kismet’s back. The reveena groaned again, and Shev smiled broadly, glancing at Anzhi to have a wordless exchange with him before he continued the one with words he was determined to have with Kismet. Anzhi’s eyes urged him to continue.

“I’m gonna tell ya a story,” he said, letting his thumb circle a knot in the other’s muscles. “Y’know I used t’be a sailor on a merchant ship. Did I ever tell ya why I left that behind?”

It took a moment, but Kismet closed his eyes and breathed out, “No, you didn’t.”

“Ah. Well, I chanced on tha’ ship when I was fleein’ Ul’dah after I won my freedom from th’ Bloodsands. While I was workin’ on tha’ ship, I fell for ‘er captain. She was a free-spirited lass; always dancin’ along th’ ship like some sort ‘a air sprite, a smile always on ‘er face. She an’ I got real close, an’ one night, she told me she wanted t’be with me. I was over th’ moon. We made plans, I started stayin’ in ‘er quarters, we started talkin’ about family an’ kids an’ forever.” He finished with that little knot and found another, gently working at it as he continued.

“Well, I docked in Thavnair fer a few weeks when one ‘a th’ crew got real sick, an’ ended up pickin’ up a new guy. He got on well with th’ rest ‘a th’ crew, an’ when we all shoved off again, everythin’ started runnin’ smoothly… until it didn’t. I found out one day tha’ this guy that had joined our crew started up somethin’ with another crew member. They were an item, an’ a couple months after tha’ started, I found out tha’ th’ captain had decided t’start datin’ them too. She an’ I never talked abou’ havin’ multiple partners. She had told me she wanted t’be with me an’ only me, but then changed ‘er tune an’ said she wanted polyamory.. So I got real mad, th’ new guy called me a rabid dog fer goin’ off on th’ captain, an’ I beat ‘is ass fer tha’ an’ jumped ship at th’ next port. Left ‘em all behind.”

Kismet winced, and Shev smoothed his hand over his shoulder. “That wasn’t polyamory. That was cheating, then,” he said softly. Shev hummed in agreement.

“Tha’ was my first experience with what anyone called polyamory,” he said, and then frowned. “I know tha’s not what it was, but th’ word left a sour taste in m’ mouth fer a long, long time.” For a moment he paused, letting that sink in, before he continued again. “When Anzhi first approached me abou’ you, I almost had a panic attack. I thought… I thought maybe it was tha’ situation on th’ ship all over again. But Anzhi an’ I talked abou’ it, an’ in th’ end I realized tha’ havin’ another partner, fer him, doesn’t make ‘im any less mine. I don’t think ‘e could get away from me even if ‘e wanted to, honestly, but you bein’ a part ‘a his heart wasn’t gonna go away, either. So I let ‘im try. I wanted t’get t’know ya, make sure y’were a decent guy, before I really gave ya m’blessing. An’ ya know by now tha’ y’got it.”

Kismet smiled a bit. “Yeah. And I appreciate it a lot. I appreciate you, Shev. You’re… hrgh… much more understanding than any of us deserves.”

“I ain’t done,” Shev said, and brought both of his meaty hands up to the sides of Kismet’s neck, gently rubbing the pads of his fingers along the muscles there. “I gave y’my blessin’ because yer a good guy, Kismet. Yer not gonna fuck off an’ hurt Anzhi. Yer not gonna try an’ steal ‘im from me. An’ while I’ve never been much a fan ‘a polyamory, I didn’t really understand it. Not until ya two started up, an’ then ya moved in, an’ then I started thinkin’ abou’ ya differently.” He looked to Anzhi again, who was smiling, and sucked in a deep breath. “So I guess this story’s givin’ ya a little history, because while back then I could never imagine bein’ in a relationship with more’n one person, I’m definitely lookin’ at it now an’ wonderin’ if I can imagine a life without ya in it, too.”

Kismet froze, tensing again under Shev’s hands, and Shev moved to squeeze his shoulders again to urge him to relax.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he said quietly, almost lamely, his eyes fluttering open as he turned his head to look at him sidelong.

“I think y’do,” Shev said gently, leaning down and lowering his voice as he moved his hands over Kismet’s back again, trying to work out the new tension. “I want t’try with ya. Seriously. Officially.”

“I… I don’t want to…”

“Fuck things up, I know,” Shev finished for him, and when Kismet sighed and relaxed, he started kneading again.

“I won’t do anything until I talk to G’raesyn about it,” he said quietly, but there was a tiny smile on his face now, and Shev couldn’t help feeling happy that he’d put it there.

“I know,” Shev said softly. “But I want y’to know I’m serious. I ain’t never done this before, an’ I wouldn’t say anythin’ if I didn’t want it.” There was a pause before he leaned down further and reached for Kismet’s jaw, tilting it just a little so that they were looking each other in the eyes. “An’ Kismet, yer not gonna fuck it up. I’m not gonna let ya.”

Kismet watched Shev for a moment, his lips pulling into a wider smile before he pulled his head free and buried his face in the mattress and muffled out a little, “Okay.”.

“Well, I’m going to check on the food,” Anzhi said, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of Kismet’s ear before he slid off the bed and padded out to the kitchen..

“An’ I got a shelf to build,” Shev said, reaching up to push Kismet’s face further into the mattress as he slid away and got to his feet.

“Hrmgph!” Kismet exclaimed, but when he rose to his hands and knees on the bed, it was with the sort of stretch that one might imagine a cat luxuriating in. “I can help with the shelf.”

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Story #Shev Mhalikh #Anzhi Mhalikh #Kismet Kaze #Prompt 17 #Free Day #Future

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grazhir · 3 months ago

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Moving

As usual, I don't recommend it, but needs must. Everything is over bar a couple of things waiting on delivery.

Funny, though, I absolutely cannot find that mattress protector I bought. Maybe once I've broken down all the current boxes and shoved them into a larger one (and can take them over to my brother's) and get the rest of this stuff unboxed, assembled...

Maybe it'll magically appear? Good thing I have two closets, because some boxes I do keep. Thank you shelf in the "living room" closet.

Let's see.

Done:

• two desks • bed frame • mattress-in-a-box on the frame and fully plumped • microwave cart (two shelves underneath) • standing LED lamp • desk chair

Left to go:

• cube storage (plus inserts) - I gotta put my clothes somewhere, the stuff that can't be hung. • pantry cabinet • smaller standing cabinet • kitchen island (tiny, but more storage, maybe pots/pans?) • L-shaped desk • miscellanea (humidifier, air filter, etc.)

Plenty of stuff to find homes for.

Pissed off that I bought garbage bags that fit my desk-side garbage can and not ones big enough for my kitchen garbage can. Who knew an allegedly 13-gallon can should be using 15+ gallon bags?

The point is, I'm in my apartment.

The thermostat was set to 50? I didn't even notice until I began to get a little chilly in just a thin tank+t-shirt. I bumped it to 60 for now, to see how warm it gets in here, and put on a cardigan.

The bed is made (sans mattress protector), and with more than just the duvet (two blankets more).

I have very little cabinet space (hence the pantry cabinet and another cabinet), so I figure the cubes can handle clothing and whatever else needs a home (like those shoes I bought and have literally never worn outside of the house).

I would kind of like a new set of L.L. Bean sheepskin slippers, but wool socks over normal ones will have to do for now.

Somehow I'm already on trash bag #3. Good thing the dumpster is out the front door and straight forward. I'll just have to deliver the cardboard next time I visit my brother's (to do laundry and spend time with my mother).

#real life #moving

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resi4skz · 8 months ago

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CHAPTER 3

Pairing: idol!Chan x Rebecca Greywood (OC)

Warnings: none for this chapter

This is purely fiction!

When the plane lands after many hours in the air, it finally dawns on me that I was finally in Korea. South Korea, to be exact. I do a small prayer in my seat before it was time to de-board the plane. As I breezed through the immigration, I was finally outside. I'm in Korea. I immediately got a new sim card and downloaded all the necessary apps on my phone. Then I had to get taxi which wasn't that difficult since I was pretty fluent in the language now. As the driver drove to the destination, I was in awe of the city. Billboards everywhere, big and small. Lots of people out at this time of night. I smiled knowing that I will be amongst these people one day. Hopefully.

As I reach my apartment complex, I thank the taxi driver. I get all my luggage and walk towards the complex. My apartment was on the fifth floor. I had to let the landlord know that I had arrived so when I found the apartment, she was already standing outside. Smiling, I quickly sprinted towards her, dragging the luggage behind me. "I'm very sorry I got here late. The plane had some issues."

She smiles at me and says, "It's alright. I understand."

"Thank you for understanding," I say, bowing.

"Alright, so to enter your apartment, you need to create a pin code." She explained and showed me how to enter the code. I chose 031097 and I was all set. She showed me the inside and had put boxes inside which turned out to be all the furniture I had ordered months ago which I was glad to see. Once she was finished giving me the tour of the apartment, I thanked her once again before she leaves.

Not wasting another second, I tackle all the boxes first and assemble all the necessary furniture. The major one was my bed. And I was very glad I had listened to Luna and had these delivered here. For tmorrow, I will get all the necessary things I need and maybe explore the city a bit. But right now, all I want to do is sleep. So once the mattress was on the bed frame, I placed all the necessities like a pillow and bedsheets and a blanket. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

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

The next day, I wake up pretty late and tackle the rest of the boxes while making a list of things I needed to buy. I needed food and few other things so I decided to head out to run errands. I didn't bother with makeup as I wore a face mask. One thing on my mind was to not get lost so to avoid getting lost, I had searched for nearby markets. It was starting to get dark when I decided to go out for some grocery shopping.The markets were pretty close by so I decided to walk instead. Plus I needed the walk.

As I'm getting the things from my list, a song suddenly comes on in the market speakers. A Stray Kids song. The dancer in me wants to dance. But I focus on the grocery. I get everything on my list and checkout.

On the way out, I decide to stop for coffee and some food. But I run into a body as I walk out. "Ah, I'm sorry!" I bow three times.

"It's quite alright." The warm tone says. Wait a second, why do I know that voice? Looking up, I'm met a person wearing black from head to toe, even wearing a black beanie but he has a face mask on. Where have I seen those eyes before? "Gwenchanayo?"

Then it suddenly clicks. I nod as I stare in awe. Even though he was wearing a face mask, I suddenly recognized him. Another figure comes next to him and I think my day just got better. The aussie duo are standing in front of me and I'm speechless. Standing aside, I let them leave. I take out my phone to shoot a quick text to Luna. Holy shit, I just saw Bang Chan and Felix in the flesh. I pinch myself to wake up from this dream but only it wasn't a dream this time.

I look down to try to calm myself down when I spot a black bag. It looks vaguely familiar. Opening the bag, I gasp when I see a macbook with usb ports attached on top. There was also the name 'Bang Chan' printed on the macbook. Zipping it close, I pick it up and sprint in the direction they went. My eyes look for them in the crowd. "Dammit, where are they?" When I see no progress in the aisles, I run over to the checkout lanes and immediately spot them. How they're not surrounded by fans is beyond me.

"Chogiyo," I call out as I run over to them. They turn around and I could see them putting their guard up. I bite down on my bottom lip and inhale deeply, steeling my nerves, I hold the bag in front of them. "You left this back there."

His eyes widen and his eyebrows go up. I could see their brains turning gears before Bang Chan snatches the bag from me and immediately opens it. "Oh my gosh thank you so much! I didn't even notice I had left it." He explains with a chuckle, swings the bag around to wear it across his shoulders. He gives a satisfied nod to Felix.

"Ghamsamnida." Felix says as he bows.

"Ah, aniyeo. I'm just glad I was able to return it to you and some weirdo didn't get to it. I knew it was important so I just wanted to return it its rightful owner." I bow back and take my leave. Going back to my grocery shopping, I get majority of the things that would last me a week or so. As I'm heading out, my stomach growls. "Damn. I need to eat."

I walk to a coffee shop nearby. Walking in, it's not as busy. Standing in line for a drink and food, I browse through my phone trying to find some good bed sheets and pillows when I feel someone from behind tap me on the shoulder. Turning around, my eyes go wide.

"I didn't get a chance to say thank you."

Holy shit. "Uhm, it's okay really!"

"No, I wanted to properly thank you. What you did, you basically saved my life. So thank you." He bows. He's bowing.....to me. I immediately bow back. "Let me buy you a drink."

"Ah no! It's okay! Really! I was just glad that no one got to your bag and did something unthinkable. No need to give me anything for being a decent human being."

He laughs at that but insists. "Please. I feel bad."

I blink at him. Am I dreaming? Why is he even here? And why is he talking to me? A sudden thought comes to my mind but I push it away. "Aniyeo. Gwenchanayo. But thank you for the gesture." Outside I seem so calm and chill but inside I'm squealing because THE Bang Chan is talking to me. I order my drink and a croissant and pay no mind that he's still behind me when I stand on the side for my drink to be made. I busy myself on the phone looking at makeup styles when he comes and stands beside me.

Again, I pay no mind and just browse on my phone. "Order for Rebecca!" The barista calls out and I grab it. Turning around, I bow again and walk out. Why did he even come after me? My brain couldn't comprehend what just happened. In the span of 10 minutrs, I not only manage to give back his bag but he offered to buy me coffee?

I look at my phone as I sip my latte. Taking a bite of the croissant, I almost moan in pleasure. Why was this croissant so good? What magic do they use? They never make croissants this good back home. My smile falters at the thought of home. It had been only one day. But having this freedom felt good. I wasn't stressed as I was back home.

I decide to scout the area around my apartment just so I know where everything is. As I sip on the latte, I found out there are small food places just about every block, if not every other block. I also found out that people are very easy going but have a hard time explaining to a foreigner what their location is. Luckily, I'm fluent in Korean and English. Evwrywhere I went, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I actually saw Bang Chan and Lee Felix. They're even prettier in person, even with face masks on.

By the time I've scouted the area almost all, I spot a tteokbokki (rice cake) cart with a tent around it. My stomach growls on cue. Walking inside, I'm greeted with a warm welcome and I walk towards the stall. I order a mild-medium spicy rice cakes with glass noodles and fish cake soup on the side. Once my order is packed and ready to go, I thank the nice lady and make my out.

Once home, I put away all the grocery and decide to take a shower before I eat. A fresh hot shower always helps me calm and boy did I need it. After the shower and changing my clothes, I sit down in front of my TV and dig in my food. Holy mother of god, why is this so good? A little spicy but wow. The flavours. My phone rings and I pick up.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ms. Becca Greywood?"

"Speaking."

"This is HR team for JYPE. We were wondering if you could start much later than you're original start date?"

I sit up straight. "How much later are we talking here?"

"6 to 8 months."

"What?! That's way too long!" How am I suppose to pay for rent let alone food?

"I know, we're very sorry but the group that you will be assigned to is currently overseas for their concerts so once they come back is when you will start. We can pay you in the meantime for your inconveniences."

I debated for a second if I should quit but they offered to pay me. "Alright. I think I can work with that. As long as I get paid, I can wait."

"Okay. Sounds good. We will make sure to give you a call if anything changes in our schedules."

"Okay, thank you." Sighing, I hang up and sit on my couch and stab a rice cake with my fork. "Dammit, I was really looking forward to this. I guess I can work part time or something."

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

To put it simply, I was given the gift of time. Living alone was great. Until it wasn't. Lazing around was great. Until it wasn't. Cleaning around the apartment was great. Until I realized I developed a bit of OCD and cleaned till my place was spotless. It was driving me crazy so I decided to join the gym. I realized it was a great way to release stress and kill time. I made a few gym acquaintances as well.

The first month was tough. I found a personal trainer who pushed me to my limits every day. I worked my ass off in the gym, ate right, got enough sleep and the work was finally paying off. I gained muscle and lost fat but my build looked like I don't work out which was good in a way because I didn't want to look intimidating. But my clothes fit a bit better and I actually started feeling good about myself.

As I wait for my cab, my phone rings."Hello?"

"Hey girlie!"

"Luna? Oh my god! Where the hell have you been?!" The last time I talked to her was just after I landed.

"I have been busy doing something that you're going to LOVE me for it."

"Oh no. What did you do this time? Do I have to call someone to help you with whatever it is you got going on?"

"What? No! I quit my job," she replies.

"Wait what? But you loved your job!" Is being serious right now?

"I know. But I found something better. I applied for a barista and they hired me. So I'll be moving next month."

My heart drops. "Moving?"

"Yes. So you got a place for me in your apartment?"

I blink. And then I blink again. "Wait, are you telling me that you got a job here?"

"Yes. A coffee shop that's pretty close by to your place by the name of Just Java."

Oh, that's like 5 blocks aways from my place. "When were you planning on telling me?"

"Now?"

This girl. I sigh and ask, "And when is your flight? I'll come get you."

"It's next week on Thursday so I'll probably get there by Friday or Saturday the latest."

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

It was now Saturday and I was at the airport waiting for Luna to arrive. I triple checked to make sure I'm at the right terminal. We haven't talked since I moved so this is going to be a bit of a surprise for her. As people start exiting of the terminal, I search for a certain curly haired and when I spot her, I raise my arm and wave. "Luna!" She spots me and smiles as she runs towards me, dragging her luggage. She crashes into me, enveloping me in the biggest hug.

"Oh my god, I can't believe I'm here with you!" Luna says excitedly.

"Bestie, I missed you!"

"I missed you too!" She says as she pulls back to finally look at me. "Something is different about you."

I roll my eyes. "Here we go."

"Did you do something with your hair?"

I take her luggage and start walking out, as I quickly call for a cab. All the while she keeps asking what I've done different about myself. Even when we sit in the car, she keeps asking. "Luna, I'm the same Becca. Nothing is different."

"No, but," she says as the driver starts driving towards my apartment. I know she's looking at me. The nerve in my head is about to pop. "Hmm, I can't put my finger on it."

The drive to the apartment was quick. Luna just stares at the bulding in awe. I snort at her expression. "Alright, let's go." Once we arrive in front of the apartment, I punch in the code and we walk inside.

"Whoa." Luna eyes widen as she looks at the size of the living area. "Wow. You really made it a home."

"Yup. Come on, I'll show you your room," I open the second room door and let her walk inside. "I left the walls empty. I figured you'd want to decorate it yourself."

"Thank you," she hugs me and takes her luggage and plops it by her bed.

"I'll let you unpack. The bathroom is next to the kitchen." I close the door and walk to the kitchen to make some food.

*2hrs later*

I'm in my gym attire: crop top, leggings and hair in a messy bun. I walk out of my room only to have Luna drop something on the floor. "Whoa, what happened?"

"Girl, what the fuck?"

"Huh?" I blink at her.

"I know what's different about you! You've been working out. Holy shit, are those abs?"

Rolling my eyes, I walk in the kitchen to fill my water bottle. "Before you ask anything, yes I've been working out. It's helped me these past 5 months. Even though I start work next month, I'm still going to continue it."

"I ain't complaining. You look good."

"Thanks," I smile. "Now are you okay by yourself for the next 2 hours?"

"Yeah. Go. I'll probably be sleeping by the time you get home."

"Alright, see you in a bit." I grab my things and head out to the gym.

A/N: can you guess who she meets next?

#bang chan #christopher bang #stray kids bang chan #chris bang #stray kids #skz #bang chan fanfic #fanfic

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shivunin · 2 years ago

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From the Depths

(for the prompt "A kiss after receiving good news" from @zenstrike---thanks again!!)

Arianwen could not imagine a city worse than Orzammar.

It wasn’t just the ugliness of the politics; it wasn’t just the deprivation of fresh air and sunlight. It wasn’t the annoyance of the tasks she’d been set to, or even her leg wound. It was all of these at once, and more.

For example, even if she tried her hardest she could not make a throwing blade stick in anything when all the furniture was made of stone…and there was little else to occupy her time at the moment, when she’d had no visitors all day. Even the healer wouldn’t return until the results of the most recent examination.

“Worst city in Thedas,” she muttered to herself, lying on her back in the stone bed. A stone bed—as if sleeping on stone was some kind of luxury. At least in the alienage she’d had an actual mattress.

She hated Orzammar.

Her knife flipped into the air, the edge of the blade shining in the lamplight, and she caught it easily when it fell again. She’d been very firmly warned not to climb out of bed after she’d fallen two days ago, and Alistair had been so genuinely frustrated that she’d begrudgingly agreed to stay put.

Flip. Catch. Flip. Catch.

They could have at least brought in a practice dummy. That was the minimum—she’d made the idiot into a king, hadn’t she? Surely he could manage this one thing. She’d defeated a legend, a hostile wasteland full of traps designed to kill her, and she’d certainly paid for it. Was one stupid target so hard?

Flip. Catch. Flip. Catch.

Alright, well, obviously there would be a problem with retrieving the knives even if they did bring a target in here. But someone could have stayed with her and brought them back. Really, it was odd that none of them had. Not one. She was just…lying here by herself.

Flip. Catch. Flip. Catch.

So, fine, it wasn’t just that she’d driven them all off with her ill temper. It was that one of them specifically hadn’t stuck around. She was grown enough to admit that much to herself, if not aloud.

Flip. Catch. Flip. Catch.

But why should it bother her? They’d made no promises to each other, had they? She’d never told Zevran she wanted more than company, and he’d never implied otherwise. In fact, he’d more or less let her define what they were to each other thus far, hadn’t he? Like he didn’t want to admit anything either way—or maybe he just didn’t care enough to choose.

Flip. Catch.

When Arianwen caught her blade next, she let it rest against her chest instead of throwing it again. The handle was cool from the air—it was always just a little too cool for comfort here, but never actually cold. All the stone held on to the chill, she supposed. The choking heat at the Anvil had almost been a boon after weeks of the creeping chill. Now, Wen held tight to her knife until the handle warmed against her skin, as a child cuddles a stuffed toy.

After the fever…she could have sworn she remembered Zevran there. She certainly remembered a lovely pair of eyes, a brown nearing gold, holding hers to the light when she would have fallen away. Even in her haze, she’d known that had to mean something. But…

They’d let her up long enough to end the fighting in the Assembly. Directly after, she’d been dragged back to this room to languish on her sickbed until the infection had been purged entirely. So, here she was a week later: still in bed while the Blight raged on the surface.

Alone.

He…hadn’t chosen to stick around.

As she thought this, the door on the far wall swung open. Wen sat up, spinning the blade into a throwing position just in case. There was no need; she recognized the cadence of the footsteps even before her lover came into view.

“Oh,” she said, and flopped back onto the bed, “Hello.”

“Good evening, my dear Warden,” Zevran said, and sat on the bed beside her, “I have the most intriguing news for you.”

“Oh?” she said, and tossed her throwing knife into the air again, “Is Bhelen going to bring me a practice target finally? Or have they discovered a chef who can actually cook?”

“Ah, even better,” Zevran said, smiling down at her in a way that made her stomach flip, “We are leaving within the hour. You have been cleared to leave.”

“What?” Wen said, snatching her throwing blade from the air and sitting up in a rush, “This isn’t some joke, is it?”

“Mi vida, would I joke with you about something so dire?” Zevran said, setting a hand on his chest in false offense, “No, it is not a jo—”

She was kissing him before she decided to do it—awkwardly, with their noses pressed against each other and his teeth far too involved in the matter. Arianwen didn’t care—to leave this dreadful place; perhaps to never return! She couldn’t imagine better news in the world right now, unless he’d also come to tell her that Loghain had decided to do them all a favor and drop dead somewhere.

Perhaps that—a messy kiss, too hard and misplaced—might have been all of it if she’d pulled away right then. But Zevran’s hand caught the back of her neck before Arianwen could swing her legs over the side of the bed.

Something…changed then, though she couldn’t quite put words to it until later. They hadn’t kissed since she’d gone into the Deep Roads weeks before; between visits from the healer and everything else, they hadn’t been alone together since she’d returned.

Over the past months, they’d kissed plenty. Quick ones, checking on each other after battle; long, languorous ones in his tent or hers, as a prelude to lovemaking; laughing ones, when she kissed him to stop his joking, and even angry ones when one or the other of them had taken an unnecessary risk in combat (why he insisted on guarding her was beyond Arianwen; not that her irritation ever dissuaded him).

Zevran had never kissed her like this—like he was finding her and losing her all at once. It was a kiss that felt like a farewell; it was a kiss that felt like finding something precious and small and cradling it in one’s hands. No; he’d never, ever kissed her quite like this. Arianwen was certain that she would have remembered it if he had.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as soon as he let go, and caught his hand in hers when he would have stood, “What’s happened?”

“Wrong? Nothing is wrong, my dear Warden” Zevran said with an arched brow, but he turned away too quickly for her to read his expression, “Come—I had thought you would not wish to stay in this room a moment longer. You certainly said so enough times, yes?”

Wen peered at his back as he began to shove her things back into her pack.

“But perhaps I was mistaken,” he added after a moment, glancing at her over his shoulder, “I could always tell the others you wish to stay if—”

“No!” Wen said at once, and swung her legs off the bed. Her wounded leg gave an uncomfortable twinge when she put weight on it, but she ignored that. Let it hurt all it wanted to, so long as it hurt under the sky.

“No,” she said again, “I’m well. I’m ready. Let me get my armor and we can go.”

Packing and readying herself to leave was busy. Collecting her assurances from the king and making the appropriate goodbyes was time consuming, too, and almost tiring enough for Arianwen to ask for more rest.

None of it was quite busy enough to make her forget the way Zevran had tasted on her lips.

Like…tenderness.

Tenderness and desperation.

But why?

#arianwen tabris #zevran arainai #zevwarden #zevran x tabris #zevran x warden #dao #zevwen #they're soooo close to realizing #give them a few weeks and they'll get there

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sandsorghum · 3 years ago

Text

Some Assembly Required

Some spice and fluff for our favourite "blessings" & birthday boy <3

Characters aged up

Summary

You and Megumi have a new bed to get comfy in. Well, if he can get it together first...

WC: 1.3k Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humour Notes/Warnings: One F-bomb, Bad furniture puns...

You and Megumi bought the bed together, but he insists on building it independently.

“Later this evening, when we’re breaking it in, I want to know I’m the one responsible for your good night’s sleep.”

“Or maybe you’ll be responsible for my lack of sleep, hm?” you tease, looping your arms around his waist. His face flushes, awkwardly disentangling himself from your clutches while he stammers something about getting the manual. You think it's cute how he still gets so flustered when you flirt, even though you’re literally going to share a bed with him.

But not tonight, as it turns out.

Or the next two evenings.

By day three, your back is sore from curling up on the couch next to him. Megumi’s a wonderful cuddler, but it’s starting to get super cramped.

The two of you have your first proper argument about why he doesn’t just pay someone to assemble it. Sorcerer duties have been keeping him too busy to bother with the construction and you’re at work all day too, so there’s no one to oversee or supervise hired help. He asks for one more chance to prove himself, and you think it’s absurd, but luckily for him, he’s also adorable so you let him stick to his ideals, just for now.

Eventually a combination of Youtube tutorials and brute force seems to fix things. Megumi hauls the mattress on it and calls you in, beaming next to the bed.

“Told you I could do it,” he grins, gesturing at what does indeed appear to be a perfectly acceptable, sturdy bed.

He’s rolled up the sleeves of his dark shirt, biceps and forehead lightly glistening with a sheen of sweat that he absentmindedly wipes while surveying his handiwork. This image, combined with the very rare display of cockiness from your boyfriend suddenly sends a surge of desire through you.

“It looks wonderful Megumi, you worked so hard on it, you deserve a reward.”

“Oh, what’s that reward gonna look like?”

You move closer to him, tugging the hammer from his palm and tossing it into the tool box. Tiptoeing, you whisper against his ear, “Well, I have an idea of something else that needs to be nailed.”

Megumi grins and grabs you, pulling you down into plushness.

The feeling of falling is so familiar, you’re so fond of it and the gravity of him, but there’s something extra thrilling about collapsing for the first time onto the bed that belongs to both of you, that will witness many warm nights melting into early mornings. You think about the headboard he’ll steady his hands against, or the way you’ll brace one palm against it, the other desperately clutching his chest, or clawing his back, or clenching against the sheets. You think about how often they’ll have to be changed.

Not that you have to imagine any of this. With the pace at which Megumi moves, eliminating buttons and zippers and the fuss of fabric, he’s quickly making all those fantasies a reality.

“Is it ok if I go fast?” he breathes as he places nips along your nape, barely holding his desperation at bay, as his touch skims what he already owns. You think by now he shouldn’t need such assurances, but you know he likes hearing them, needs you to remind him he belongs to you too.

You nod eagerly, puncturing the intensity of your shared need with his name.

“Missed you, ‘Gumi.”

Something snaps in him, as you anticipated- Like you’d hoped.

There’s something about the way you shortchange the first syllable of his name that signals your desperation, how it matches, or even exceeds his, if that were possible.

It’s a code developed between you two, for him and him alone, ascending the pinnacle of privacy’s privilege. You’re both climbing, fatigue creeping up but he pushes through, picking up his pace to the teetering precipice of unbearable. The air is thin here, wherever the here is that he’s brought you to, that he always brings you, amidst the haze of almost aches and azure skies of dueling desires. You want this to last, you want to be finished, tendons drawn taut till that something in you snaps, you want that flash of white and Megumi all over you, in you, hot and thrumming. You’re forgetting how lungs work, he devours your pants, you savour his stuttering breaths against your cheeks.

“Need you…ngh, deeper.”

“ M' too c-close.”

“Please, just a while longer, 'Gumi. Please?” Your ankles hook together around his waist, squeezing, pulling, punishing, wrenching that pretty groan from him. You want an encore of it, another aspect of the code between you two, so close to the curtain call. This is how it always is, one whimper to beckon him, to set things in motion, for you to open for him, and another whine to portend his end, the finale.

There’s another noise, a creaking, completely foreign to the cacophony of this relentless passion. You ignore it, there’s so many other lavishly lewd sounds worth your attention, the squelching, the slapping of skin on skin, the way the sheets rustle and above all, clearest and uninterrupted, the sweetest sound of Megumi’s moaning, begging, praising you.

But not with words, because you learned a long time ago how to interpret and enjoy the absence of his articulation, the scarcity of oxygen chased from his mouth, how it roves against yours, searching, supplementing, stealing the air and sounds you both so desperately crave. Spots pirouette in your vision, everything blurs further as perspiration drips down your eyes, you close them to focus on this sensual symphony, to focus on him.

You’re certain his voice is at another frequency, every other noise seems to be drowned out, which is why you don’t hear a horrible wooden screech coinciding, or perhaps cancelled out by one last guttural groan.

You hear an ominous snap before reality comes crashing down.

“What the fuck! Megumi?”

You hear a very different kind of groan, barely audible, reverberating against your chest. He lifts his head after a moment,face seared pink.

“Are you hurt?”

“I should be asking you that. What happened?”

“Uh…”

He slides off (and out of) you, ducking his head behind the mattress while you pull on your clothes.

You join him and can’t help but giggle at the carnage before you.

The middle slats of the bed frame had snapped in half, the mattress sinking inwards and awkwardly angled like an open faced sandwich. You inspected it more closely and could see how haphazardly the nails and screws had been jammed in.

“Careful, there might be splinters,” Megumi cautioned, pulling you up by the arm gently.

“You sure you’re all right?” He grasped your hands, palm turned upwards and scrutinizing them for any abrasions or cuts.

“Yea, I was…holding on to you, remember.”

An awkward sound rumbles in Megumi's throat, a dusting of pink creeping over his cheeks as he presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

“I’m sorry. I rushed it.”

“Not the only thing you rushed tonight, hm?”

His face flares into full on crimson. You adore him.

“I - did you get to um..uh..did you…?”

You intend the peck on his cheek to dissipate the flush, but it seems your next words only deepen it.

“Make it up to me next time, on the next bed.”

Megumi grabs you by the waist, breath warm by your ear.

“How about now, on the couch?”

You consider it for a moment, but you’re not about to reward shoddy workmanship. You smile and give him a light shove to his chest.

“Get it fixed, Megumi.”

“It’s under warranty, I’ll call the guy. Oh, and sweetheart, this really isn’t what I meant by breaking in the bed,” he leans towards you, dropping his voice, “at least not this time.”

A shiver chases this prospect down your spine, as you think you might have to reconsider Megumi’s earlier offer of compensation.

#fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #smuterdays #jjk headcanons #jjk #fushiguro megumi #megumi smut #megumi x reader #megumi hcs #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi headcanons #fushiguro megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #sandsorghum #fushiguro megumi smut #megumi fushiguro

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russiandoll-from-brooklyn · 4 years ago

Text

Just Once - Part 2

Title: Just Once - Part 2

Some of y'all were asking for Part 2 of Just Once so here ya go! This picks up right after the first story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!reader

Summary: Grief and loneliness got the best of you last night. Your friendship with Tony was too precious to risk, and now all you want to do is move on. But what happens when the other party doesn't want to forget?

Warnings: smut, language, (technically) cheating, friends to lovers, mentions of past canon trauma, oral (f receiving), protected sex

Word Count: 5.1k

[Starts out sweet and all about tony x reader friendship, then turns into steamy Tony smut. Table sex, included. 😳]

---

Thump, thump, thump.

Your feet hit the pavement rhythmically as you jog your normal morning route. It’s a misty Seattle morning, and the world is still quiet. The sun is rising sleepily, beginning to bathe the world in gold. All is well.

Except. It isn’t.

You turn the block corner, and your apartment comes into sight. You take a glance down at your watch.

42 minutes.

That’s how long ago you had quietly slipped out of your apartment for your morning run. That’s how long it had been since your eyes shot open and you remembered the events of last night, rushing into your mind, all at once like a tsunami. You had turned your head to find Tony still asleep beside you in the bed. One leg sticking out of the messy sheets and his face buried in the pillow. Your pillow.

You had stared at him in disbelief, half-expecting him to disintegrate into a fleeting figment of your imagination. You had rubbed your eyes, trying to clear the haze.

Nope. Still there.

You silently curse yourself and your stupidity (see: weakness in the face of sexual temptation) for the 50th time this morning as you approach the brick building. Perhaps, when you reenter your apartment, Tony will be gone, and this will all have just been a bad trip — or something of the like.

Before you even open the door, the smell of frying bacon reaches your nose. You step inside and are greeted by a peculiar sight.

Tony Stark, clad in nothing but a pair of dark jeans, is buzzing about your small kitchenette. Simultaneously, there are eggs being flipped over-easy on the stovetop, orange juice being procured from the open fridge, bacon sizzling happily in a pan, and toast being buttered. You stand in amazement for a few seconds, processing the scene before you. The wonderful aroma of the all-American breakfast makes you mouth water.

“Y/N! Hey!” Tony exclaims when he sees you.

You slide onto a stool at the bar top, overlooking the controlled chaos unfolding in the kitchen area. Tony truly has remarkable skill when it comes to multitasking. You guess, all that time in the suit, operating about twenty computing systems at once, was good practice.

“Wow. Breakfast?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you cook?”

He scoffs, shooting you a brief smile before turning away to rapidly crack some black pepper onto the eggs.

“Cooking is easy. People think it’s a skill, but really it’s just planning, timing it out. It’s like assembling anything else. You just do the parts in order, trying not to break any yolks.”

You roll your eyes sarcastically at the classic “Tony” response.

Suddenly, all the components come crashing together, and Tony is setting down two perfectly assembled breakfast plates on the bar top — complete with a glass of orange juice for each of you. It looks delicious; it’s been way too long since you had a proper breakfast. Meaning, a breakfast that wasn’t cereal, a protein bar, or a bowl of sad, pale, scrambled eggs. You thank Tony as he pulls up the other stool to sit across from you.

“Dig in,” he says cheerfully, raising his fork. “Good run this morning?”

You nod, taking a big gulp of orange juice.

“Yeah, I heard you leaving,” Tony continues mindlessly. “Kind of weird waking up to an empty bed after a night like that. I finally know what it feels like to be on the other side, I guess.”

You nearly spit out your bite of toast. And just like that, reality comes crashing back down to earth. For a brief moment, it had felt like things could possibly come out normal on the other side. You and Tony could go back to being perfectly normal best friends.

How ignorant.

“What?” you remark incredulously.

You’re on the verge of laughter, partially out of amusement but mostly out of bewildered embarrassment.

Tony gives you his award-winning “I’m innocent!” raised-eyebrow expression. You suddenly become acutely aware of the situation. Tony Stark is sitting in your kitchen, shirtless, serving you breakfast. After you spent a far-from-platonic night rolling around your sheets together. You want to slap yourself.

“I’m talking about the incredible sex we had last night. And then, you leaving me alone before sunrise,” Tony explains casually, pushing your buttons further. “That's usually my play.”

He looks up at you, expecting a playful quip in return. Instead, you just slowly set down the fork you had been gripping.

“Tony,” you begin, seriously and calmly. “Let’s not talk about it. It was one night, and it won’t happen again. It was just once. We gave into the moment, but we shouldn’t-“

“The moment?” Tony suddenly blurts out, interrupting you. You purse your lips, surprised by the new and unexpected edge of anger in his voice. “God. Y/N. The moment, huh? You’re really just going to shrink it down to that. Just a moment.”

You stare at him, confused. Tony’s big brown eyes hold yours with an intensity. It's amazing how fast his sarcastic, playful tone can morph into ferocity. You want to look away, break his gaze, but you can’t. This whole thing was a mistake.

“It was fun,” you finally say. “But it was just a fuck. We were lonely.”

“You know, Y/N. You’re so damn smart,” Tony replies, leaning back a bit in his seat. “So, why do you always try and kid yourself? It bothers me. I know -- that you know -- that this wasn’t just a fuck.”

Your mind races through a million different responses.

Then, what was it?

What do you mean?

Why are you acting like this?

I'm not kidding myself.

But something tells you, deep down, that there's nothing you can say that won't lead to something you don't want to hear.

So, instead, you angrily snatch up your glass of orange juice, rising from your seat at the bar. You grit your teeth at Tony one more time before turning your back and striding toward to your study. You feel your cheeks burning hot.

The study is a second living room-sized space where you keep all your projects. Early sunlight is now streaming in through the large windows, falsely giving the impression of a peaceful Saturday morning. The large wooden table tops are littered with wires, microchips, and other electronic parts. When you first met the Avengers year ago, you and Tony butted heads over your shared expertise in technology and robotics. After much bickering and trying to outdo each other, you eventually accepted one another's intelligence and bonded over your shared field.

You look to the floor of your large study to see the air mattress you had set up there prior to Tony's arrival yesterday, obviously still pristine. You squeeze your eyes shut. Your apartment is absolutely dripping with reminders of last night's events. The empty whiskey glasses, still sitting on the side table in the living room. The couch pillows crumpled from the weight of your bodies, hungrily crashing together above them. You don't even want to think about your bedroom, where you're sure Tony's missing shirt is strewn on the ground.

You push the thoughts out of your your mind, pulling up a seat at your work table. You start to fiddle with a new lightweight shoulder pauldron you're currently designing. You can feel yourself going into 'shut-out' mode, trying your hardest to focus all your attention on the metal in your hands. This was all too much. This was all wrong.

When you hear footsteps behind you, entering the study, you ignore it. Tony quietly traverses the floor, coming to pull up a chair on the other side of the work table. He silently watches you working the wires into place. You don't look up. You don't have to see his expression to know the contemplative expression undoubtably painted on his face. You also don't have to look at him to know he's pondering more than just your work.

"You know, aluminum-titantium alloy won't hold up after a few heavy hits," Tony comments, nodding to the armor piece.

"I'm gonna chromatize it," you reply dryly, not looking up from your hands.

"I wouldn't bother. You can't just give everything a shiny coat to hold it together. If the problem is underneath, that is."

Fuck Tony and his fucking metaphors.

You growl angrily, throwing the pauldron down in frustration. You sit back in your seat and cross your arms, finally meeting your friend's eyes.

"Ok, fine," you say matter-of-factly. "Let's talk about it. It was good. It was really fucking good. And we both needed it. But that's it. I'm willing to leave it at that and forget about it if you are."

Tony rubs his beard in his palm, seemingly mulling over your words. His brown eyes don't leave yours. The warm sunlight coming in through the window behind him paints yellow patches on his bare shoulders, bathing him in gold. You take a mental picture of him, sitting there in his thoughts. A brief, intrusive thought passes through your mind, threatening that this could be the last time you see him. You immediately banish the notion. This friendship means too much to you. Not even a fuck-up as big as this one could make you want to toss it away. You hope Tony agrees.

"Help me understand where your head's at, Y/N," Tony finally replies. "What is your biggest concern right now? Wait, listen, I know there's a lot of reasons why last night was bad. But I want to know what you're thinking."

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. As much as Tony's 'list-and-analyze' reaction to crisis could be annoying, in some ways, it comforted you. Tony is impulsive, yes, but those who know him best also know his calculative nature: the mental risk assessments, the contingency plans labelled through Z. Always searching for the route that will hurt everyone the least. Always.

You consider his question carefully. Again, there's a million answers: the risk of ruining your friendship, the potential awkwardness, Pepper -- oh, god, Pepper --, the pain and grief you've both been through in the past few years. You close your eyes and pick one.

"You're one of the only people left that I trust. One of my only friends. Complexity doesn't often end well."

"You're right," Tony admits. "But aren't you the one who asked, 'is it wrong to not want to be alone'?"

You scoff loudly, angered by his using your words against you. However, that bitterness melts away into nothing when you see the heart-wrenching expression on Tony's face. His lips are pursed, and his eyes are searching yours desperately. Tony rarely shows outward weakness, but right now, the man before you isn't Iron Man. The man before you is broken. Someone who has tried everything to hold it -- his sanity, his relationship, his life -- together, to save the people he loves, to be strong. Someone who failed at that. Someone who truly felt alone.

You rest your chin in your palms and sigh, the weight falling over you as well.

Finally, you speak.

"Isn't it awful -- and strange -- how it can feel like a lifetime ago and just yesterday at the exact same time?"

Tony nods sadly at your observation. Of course, you were talking about the snap. About Thanos.

"You're right. About everything," he remarks. "Sometimes, it just gets too much. The...”

Loneliness. You finish his sentence in your head.

“Me too.”

“You should know though,” Tony continues. “I would never stop being your friend. No matter how complex things are. This — what we’ve been through — could never change, Y/N.”

There it is.

Some situations feel like you're running in circles; you're spiraling downwards and everything you say only makes matters worse and worse. It feels like sinking in quicksand with no way out. In every one of those situations, there's a key -- that one sentence, that one idea, that effortlessly clears the fog. This was it. Tony is going to be here, always. Everything is going to be alright.

You straighten up a bit in your seat. You let out a long sigh and give Tony a small smile.

"I know," you assure your friend. "Sometimes I forget everything that's happened. How complicated it's been before. How we made it out."

Tony laughs, and you're relived.

"How could you forget? It's been a wild ride."

The two of you grin at each other. You take a sip of your orange juice, which you had forgotten about and was now lukewarm.

"OK, happy?" you inquire with a playful tone. "Base material fixed. No need for shiny coats of anything. We're solid now."

Tony lets out a hearty chuckle at the stupid analogy. Suddenly, he stands, circling the work table until he's right in front of you. You suck in a breath of oxygen. From your seated position, your head only comes up to his abs. Bare abs, that is. You tilt your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," he says gently. “Stand up.”

Confused, you rise to your feet. Before you can open your mouth to say anything else, Tony’s lean and muscular arms are wrapped around you. He pulls you into his chest, embracing you in his warmth. His grip is firm, as if he’s afraid you might run away. You soften into the hug, wrapping your arms around his back. You feel safe.

After a few moments, Tony releases you. However, he doesn’t move away, and the two of you are still nearly chest-to-chest. You peer up at him, and your friend’s warm toffee eyes meet yours.

“Wow, a Tony Stark hug?” you remark sarcastically. “I should play the lotto today.”

Tony chuckles under his breath. Despite your joking, it was true that Tony rarely gives hugs. He just isn’t the touchy-feely type — according to himself. Somehow this gesture, right now, meant everything. A hug was the most intimate thing Tony could have given you. It was a seal, a mark saying ‘I meant every word I just said.’

Tony is still standing directly in front of you, so close there’s only a magazine’s width between you. He’s so near that you can feel the warmth of his steady breathing, and the slight radiating heat from the arc reactor in his chest. Suddenly, you feel that familiar tug in your stomach. A rush of blood downwards...

“Tony-“

“Do you want me?” Tony cuts you off. His voice is low, gentle.

You suck in a breath of air at his words. Despite his directness, there's a detectable edge of nervousness in his tone. You smile internally at knowing you have this effect on Mr. Playboy. The slight uncertainty in Tony's voice also tells you that it's true: this is different. Last night was not just a mindless fuck. This is an understanding, wrapped around a mutual care that runs so deep that it burns.

You don’t even try to convince yourself that you don’t want Tony. Every ounce of your being is screaming to close the gap between you. You can still hear the scientist-logic-brain in you resisting, but your heart feels at ease. You and Tony. A concept that felt like the forbidden fruit itself just ten minutes ago now looked more like an oasis. And oasis that was maybe alright to take a drink from every once in a while.

You snake one hand upward to hold his cheek. Tony pushes gently into your palm.

It's you who leans in first. When your lips collide, it's soft. He presses himself into you, a delicate sigh escaping. You pull back just enough to whisper a breathy "I want you."

And oh, god do you want him.

“Then, have me,” Tony whispers back, gently.

You nearly visibly shiver. Any trace of hesitation is gone from his voice now. His words are demanding, but his tone is more of a plea.

“Do you want to go the bedroom?”

“No,” Tony replies immediately. He’s breathless. “Right here.”

You immediately feel wetness drop into your panties. Tony’s eyes have grow darker, as they bear down at you. The intensity makes your legs feel weak. You need him. He needs you.

In a moment of boldness, you bring your hands down to the hemline of your shirt. You lift the garment up and over your head, placing it on the work table beside you. Tony’s eyes wander to your red sports bra and your now-stiffened nipples showing through the sleek fabric.

In the next breath, Tony is suddenly kissing you again, his lips against yours in a desperate hunger. He brings his large, roughly calloused hands to your waist. He firmly grips your body, making you feel tiny in his hold. You let a small moan escape your lips.

Still holding you in his grasp, Tony starts to walk you backwards until your backside is pressed against the edge of your large work table. Tony’s hips press forward into you, making you gasp with excitement. You fingertips tangle in his hair, just wanting more and more and more...

In an effortless movement, Tony lifts your sports bra over your head. He throws the red fabric to the side, neither of you caring where it lands. Tony breaks away from your lips, starting to kiss down your cheek, jaw, and then finally giving attention to the delicate skin on your neck. Again, he’s careful not to nip or suck too hard to leave marks. The light scratching of his facial hair contrasts with the soft wetness of Tony’s lips, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

He continues to attend to your neck and jaw as one of his jean-clad thighs moves to fall between your legs. You let out a deep groan as Tony begins to rub and and roll his knee forward, stimulating your clothed core. His movements are like a wave, every forward crest bringing you a tiny bit of that friction your body wants so, so much. You’re in awe of the control Tony has over his movements and the effortless pleasure he’s capable of giving. You can’t help but find his experience and expertise sexy.

“Y/N,” Tony breathes against your neck. “Say it again. Please. Say you want me.”

It occurs to you that, aside from last night, Tony hasn’t felt wanted in a long time. Like, truly wanted. A pang of sadness fills your heart.

“Tony. I want you,” you declare, making sure the conviction in your voice shines through. You don’t have to try. You desire him more than anything right now. “I want you. I want this.”

With your words, Tony moans deeply into your jawline and begins to move his leg between yours more vigorously. Your fingertips trace over his bare back muscles. You trail your hands upward, into the nape of his neck, massaging his scalp. Everything about his beautiful form fits perfectly in your hands.

Tony continues moving downwards, soon finding your right nipple in his mouth. You arch your back, letting a loud moan escape your lips. He works your nipple expertly, rolling it and playing at it with his tongue. He alternates to your other nipple, his thumb replacing where his mouth just left. He lightly strokes the hard, spit-slick bud, and the combination of coolness and friction is heaven.

Tony stands back up, and a second later, his hands are at the elastic band of your running shorts. His eyes meet yours for a moment, silently asking for your permission. You nod a bit too eagerly, and Tony cracks a small, teasing smile. You scoff and lightly slap his shoulder, returning the smile.

Tony pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you in just your underwear. Next thing you know, Tony’s arms are around your waist. You let out a soft, surprised squeal as he lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the work table behind you. Slightly elevated now, you come to about the same height as Tony.

“Hey,” you protest playfully. “Be careful. There’s important stuff here.”

Tony reaches behind you to clear the area, moving your half-finished projects and parts to the side.

“My apologies, Ms. Y/L/N,” he replies with a huge grin. “Got a bit carried away.”

You pull him into another deep kiss. He growls with pleasure when you nip at his bottom lip. Tony is now standing between your knees, his torso pressing gently into your panty-covered pussy. You can feel his erection through his jeans, straining against his clothes. After seeing Tony’s length for the first time last night, the mental image of his cock — just a few millimeters away from your core — is enough to make you drool. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in harder against you. He moans into your mouth, and you feel the vibrations as your tongues tangle together.

You feel Tony’s body leaning forward, slowly coaxing you to lay down on the table. Now fully on your back, Tony’s above you, taking in the sight of your body.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most magnificent creature on Earth?”

“No,” you reply with a smirk. “But now, knowing how many other planets are out there in the galaxy, just being Miss Earth doesn’t seem like a huge deal.”

Tony laughs, smiling with his teeth. You find the crinkles that form on the outer corners of his eyes utterly endearing.

“Well, you’re still one out of four-and-three-quarters billion,” he jests back. “Not too shabby. It’s all about the little victories.”

You giggle. The pleasant thought passes through your mind that despite the current situation, everything does feel strangely normal. Tony is still Tony; you’re still you. The banter between you and your friend is still comfortable and easy. Your relationship, although maybe morphing into something more nuanced, remains unmoved.

You’re so caught up in your inner thoughts, that you don’t register Tony kneeling to the ground between your legs. You gasp when you feel his warm mouth over your still-clothed pussy. The combined wetness of his mouth and your core easily soaks through the fabric of your panties, making it cling to your skin. Tony runs his tongue over your folds, through the saturated cloth. You groan with pleasure, the small of your back arching off of the table. You grip Tony’s dark hair, needing something to hold onto.

The sensation of Tony’s lips and tongue through your thin panties is completely unique, and fuck, does it drive you wild.

After a few minutes, Tony’s hands reach up to hook in the waist of your panties. He removes your final garment, leaving you fully bare. His mouth immediately returns to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, before running downwards through your lips, and then back up again. He alternates this pattern with gentle sucks on your clit.

“Oh, Tony. Shit,” you manage to call out. “That feels so good.”

He hums hungrily into you, pleasuring you to a level that no previous lovers have ever come close to. Tony’s large, rough hands wander upwards. One palm gentle grips your breast, while the other comes under your waist to hold the small of your back.

You raise your head slightly to glance down at Tony. The sight is pornographic. His face is buried in your cunt, head bobbing. The shape of his shoulder muscles, and his strong back. His tan skin, all bathed in golden sunlight.

Pleasuring you. On his knees.

It’s like a painting. Beautiful and erotic.

“Tony. I need you,” you gasp out, suddenly overcome with neediness. “Inside me. Fuck, I want you.”

Those magic words, again. I want you. The effect they have on Tony is instantaneous. Without hesitation, Tony is on his feet. He swiftly unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper. His pants fall down to his ankles where he kicks them off. To your surprise his naked cock springs free. A glistening pearl of precum is formed at the tip.

“Wow, commando, huh?” you tease, gently biting at your bottom lip. “You were so confident you were going to get lucky again today?”

“Of course not. I just like to let it breath sometimes,” Tony remarks. “You wouldn’t get it. It’s a man thing.”

You scoff and roll your eyes sarcastically. Lovable idiot.

“Top drawer?” Tony asks, referring to the location of the condoms.

“On the left.”

Tony hurries out of the room and returns a second later with a condom from your bedroom. Stepping closer between your knees, he gives his cock a few pumps in his fist. You can feel your heart quickening with anticipation. Your pussy is nearly pulsing, needing to be stretched and filled.

Tony rips open the shiny wrapper and rolls the condom down onto his length. You scoot slightly closer to the edge of the table as his hands travel to grip your thighs. You moan deeply as Tony rubs the head of his cock over your slit, spreading your moisture.

“Are you ready?” Tony asks, eyes dark with desire.

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “Make me feel good.”

With that, Tony starts slowly pushing into your dripping pussy. You groan as your walls accommodate to his girth. It’s amazing that you took him just last night, and he’s already capable of stretching you like this again. Tony throws his head back, hissing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his pubic mound flush against yours.

He starts pumping gently. The way Tony’s hips roll forward in fluid motions makes you want to scream with pleasure. His hands are gripping your thighs tightly, fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

Tony’s pace quickens, and soon the room is filled with sounds of wetness, skin slipping on skin, and the moans leaving both your throats. One of Tony’s hands moves to your pussy. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit making you see stars behind your eyes. The extra stimulation almost immediately starts tightening the orgasmic coil in your stomach. Tony seems to know the exact speed to move his cock and thumb to turn you into a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Oh, more,” you groan, your pleasure growing. “Tony Stark. Yes, oh, please.”

“Come for me, Y/N,” Tony growls almost primally. “Wanna feel you squeezing around my cock.”

Tony’s filthy demands go straight to your pussy. You love the feeling of being under him, sprawled out on the table, completely naked for him to fuck. And the dirty talk is the cherry on top.

The pleasure in your abdomen continues to rise until you’re on the edge of ecstasy. With one last thrust, your orgasm washes over you. You scream Tony’s name into the room, not caring who hears. Pulses of pleasure rip through your entire body, even making your feet tingle. When you come down, the convulsions slowing, your head feels fuzzy and bubbly.

Not even a moment later, you feel Tony lifting your legs higher. Still inside you, he straightens them, bringing your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The new sensation is instantly nirvana. He starts pumping into you, and the head of his cock rubs your G-spot on every thrust. Penetrative sex had never felt this good for you.

“You feel so fucking amazing, Y/N,” Tony manages to says between moans. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

The feeling of your pussy being pounded in this angle has your eyes rolling back into your skull. All your thoughts seem to leave your head. The only thing you can focus on is the immense pleasure. The sound of Tony’s balls slapping against you wetly with every stroke combined with his desperate moans fill your ears.

Tony’s thrusts start to become more jagged, needy. His moans slowly transform more into whimpers as he continues to fuck into you. Suddenly, Tony comes with a series of loud groans, his eyes shut tight. You feel his dick pulsating inside you as he orgasms. He thrusts a few more times, riding out the last waves.

He gently slides out of you, his hands coming down the tabletop next to your waist to steady himself. Both of you are breathing heavily, your bodies radiating with the afterglow of pleasure.

Silently, Tony helps you to stand before sweeping you up easily in his arms. You lean into his chest as he carries you to the bedroom. Tony lays you down carefully on the cool mattress before hurrying to the bathroom. He returns a moment later with a warm washcloth.

After cleaning yourselves up, Tony crawls into the refreshing sheets beside you. He slips one arm under your neck, and you cuddle in closer to his body. The warmth and smoothness of his skin is so, so welcoming. In the strangest way, it feels natural.

“I didn’t think it was possible to top last night,” you finally say, chuckling.

“Me neither,” Tony replies. “I guess we just have good chemistry.”

“Who would’ve thought?” You laugh and drape an arm over his chest. “Hey, question.”

“Ask away.”

“Why did you cook all that stuff earlier? Like the eggs, toast, the whole nine yards. It was sort of...”

“Out of character?” Tony finishes your sentence.

You nod. Tony takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

“Honestly, when I woke up, and you were gone, I was freaking out a little bit. I wanted to talk about last night, but you weren’t there, and I just didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were having serious regrets, or if you were angry, or upset with me. Or if you were thinking our whole friendship was burned to the ground.

“I just needed to do something. Anything. Busy my hands, distract my mind. Sorry that I kind of raided your kitchen.”

You turn to peer up at him, letting out a soft laugh. His chocolate eyes meet yours, and you give him a kind smile, endeared by his typical, hyper ramblings.

“I’m sorry I left,” you start. “I was freaking out a little, too. I guess that’s always been a difference between us. I always try to run from the unknown, while you just want to plow straight through it.”

Tony smiles warmly and blinks his gorgeous, thick black eyelashes at you.

“It’s why we make a good pair. Balance. Yin and yang. Ya’ know.”

You both chuckle, content in one another’s arms. You open your mouth to reply, but you’re cut off by a loud growl from your stomach. Tony bursts into laughter.

“Your fault for barely touching breakfast,” Tony remarks playfully. “Which — not to toot my own horn — was quite artfully made.”

“I guess I could settle for a bowl of lowly cereal as punishment,” you reply with mock sadness.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. He starts to rise from the bed, then offers his hand for you to follow.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some more eggs.”

#tony x reader #tony x fem!reader #avengers imagines #avengers fic #avengers smut #tony stark #smut #tony stark smut #marvel fics #iron man #iron man smut #iron man fic #dom!tony #soft!tony #friends to lovers #tony stark fluff #fanfic

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jjksecondcheekmole · 3 years ago

Note

hiii!! are you still taking asks?? if you do, pls do one with billionaire ceo jk from un. wherein reader was thirsting over him and he railed her to heaven and hell. hahahaha sorry ~~~

Hey! Please don't apologize. Yes, I am definitely open to asks! Hope you enjoy the drabble/smut. Ps, apologies. For the sake of this drabble I am keeping Y/N a female.

Jeon Jeongguk understands compromise. Hell, his entire childhood is collateral to his 24-years self being a billionaire diplomat of his country. He understood the pros and cons when he asked you to date him. But, fuck, Jeon Jeongguk is _also_ a fucking 24 years old dude with needs. He is just a man. And, you? You fucking drive him crazy.

See, Jeongguk loves people with control, with physical strength, with stamina and devotion to self-care. That is why it was an absolute shock to him when you of all people, you the multimillionaire CEO of such a prestigious biotech firm, one of the most influential under 30 woman of the year around the globe is an absolute goner for his manhandling. Oh, was that a shocker!

Remember the last New year? Lord! That was 2019. You two were standing at the balcony on 20th floor watching the skyline of the Big Apple light anew in hope of a better year and you kissed JK happy new year only for you both to end up fucking right there for the world to see? You found out he is an exhibitionist. As if that was a surprise.

But, what was surprise is JK calling up to tell you he is finally coming to US after a year and a half for none other than to speak at UN general assembly as a diplomat. The title itself makes you a bit wet.

Now that he is here, finally, in your penthouse room, a little jet legged, a little nervous and whole lot horny, you're fucking ready for him.

He literally gulps an entire bottle of water in three gulps and undoes his tie at the same time while toeing his shoes off in his hurry to get to you. You laugh a little at his eagerness. God, you missed him.

'Babe. Jagi. Relax. We have time, love.'

'Noona. God. We have time, later. Right now, my dick is 2 seconds from coming right here in my Louis Vuitton pants.'

His desperate 'please' is swallowed into a heady moan as you crush your lips to him. There is no gentleness to the kiss. It is hunger in the rawest form. Jeongguk grabs your waist in tight enough grip that you know you will bruise later. He spins you both so that your back hits the bedroom wall and then he nudges your legs apart and slides a knee in. His impressive bulge pokes your hips as he pushes your hips down on his thigh.

'Noona-aah. Ride m-my thigh, babe.'

'Fuck, JK. Aanngh. Shit, I nee-need you so bad.'

Jeongguk grabs a handful of your right breast in his hand, all clothed, and squeezes. Your moan escapes in a soft breathy sigh. His other hand runds down from your waist to the hem of your already riding high dress and finds your bare pussy.

'Noona?' He smirks. 'What?' You try to sound defensive but failing miserably at his twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks from arousal.

'Are you that desperate for me right now, baby girl, that you couldn't wait to even keep a panty on?'

'Shut up.' But the rest of your threat disappears in a soft cry when two of Jeongguk's beautiful tattooed fingers penetrate your warmth and his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing gently.

'You were saying, Noona?'

'Fuck you, Kook.'

'Oh, I intend to.' 'You're a brat, you know that?'

'Yes, and you love it.' A sigh. 'Yes, I do. Now, please fuck me.'

'I will. But, tell me first. Were you touching yourself while waiting for me?'

'What if I were?'

'I will have to punish you, won't I?'

You don't get to answer however, because his hands disappear from your pussy as fast as he turns you around with your chest pressed to the wall. He lifts your bodycon dress to your waist, baring your naked ass to himself. He grabs both the cheeks and massages them. You whine out loud. 'Jeonggukkkkk. Please, baby.'

'You been naughty, my girl.' The sting of the slap on your ass jolts through you. Your nipples harden and a bit of slick wets your pussy further. You're a fucking mess already and he is just starting. He massages and slaps your cheeks alternately as you desperately finger yourself in hope of some friction. He tssks when you try to fuck your fingers harder.

'None of that, baby girl. Only thing your pussy and your mouth will ride today is my cock.'

'Jk, baby, then give it to me. I can't anymore.'

'Ok, come on then.' He lets you go. You are on your knees in front of him before your brain even catches up on your move. JK's erection is waiting in front of your face in all its glory and you wanna cry with how horny the sight of his cock makes you. You open your mouth wide, tongue out as he guides his member slowly but surely until your nose is pressed against the thatch of his pubes and his cock sits at the back of your throat. You slowly breath out through your nose as he starts to rock his hips, slowly building up his pace to fuck your throat. You grip his meaty thighs for balance and sanity as his musky beautiful smell surrounds all your senses. Your eyes water from repeated intrusion of your throat, a slight drool slowly leaking down your mouth to your chin with pre-cum. Jeongguk runs a thumb down your chin, collecting the wetness and licks the thumb in his mouth. You moan out loud at the obscene scene above you.

'Oh fuck. Fuck, baby girl.' He pulls you off of his cock.

'What's wrong?' Your eyes go wide in worry.

'Nothing. I was gonna cum too fast. But, I don't wanna finish in your mouth. Come on.' He takes you the bed and pushes you down. You spread beautifully for him. But, instead of finally entering you, he kneels by the bed side on the floor after, FINALLY, striping all his cloths and start eating you out. His long, skilled tongue enter your entrance while his thumb and forefinger pinch and rub your clit simultaneously. You're leaking so much slick you'd be mortified if your brain was capable of such higher function right now. You call his name out repeatedly like a prayer-only thing tethering you to reality in such intense, hedonistic pleasure. Jeongguk's unoccupied hand grabs one of your breast and massages it as you massage the other, pinching the nipples, and turning them into pebbles. Your orgasm hits you by surprise when suddenly he licks a path down to your asshole and back to your pussy. Your whole body spasm around him, legs clamped down on his shoulder, hand in his hair keeping his head in place as you ride his face through your high. Once your body relaxes and your legs fall wide open, he gets in between your legs, condom already in place and in one swift stroke enters you fully.

Being stretched so soon after your orgasm makes you cry out so loud, so he clashes your mouth to his in a way to silence you. But, his mouth tastes like you and it makes you whine even louder. Something possessive sneaks in around the thick air of arousal. He fucks you with abandon knowing you are more than a match to his strength. His speed builds up swiftly and in no time, he is railing you to the mattress like it is going out of style. You will feel him between your thighs for days.

Suddenly he pulls out of you, just as you were reaching for your second orgasm and pulls off the condom. He climbs up on your body, grabs your boobs, squeezes them together and starts fucking them with a maddening speed. You can only watch this beautiful man letting go of all worries as he chases his orgasm. His come hits your face just as your own fingers bring you to another orgasm.

A bit of his come plops on your lips that you lick clean. He watches you with glazed eyes for a few seconds before collapsing on the bed next to you.

'Well, that was ... nice.' Jeongguk turns to you with a lazy smile. 'Just nice?'

'Hmm.' You're almost asleep. 'I will clean you up in a minute. Just lemme catch my breath.'

'Okay, daddy.'

His soft chuckle is the last thing you hear before you doze off.

-----------------------------X----------------------------

#bts fic #bts smut #jeon jungguk #golden maknae #jungkook smut #bts x y/n #jungkook x y/n #bts bias #bts #bts asks

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

Text

A New Life ~ KSJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4K

GENRE: family AU, IDOL AU, nasty parents, siblings, ANGST, happy ending but still angsty

PAIRING: Sibling Jin x Sibling!Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Nasty parents with some triggering subjects, thoughts about not being good enough, told you’re not good enough, mentally abusive parents, car accident, mentions of blood, broken bones and depressing thoughts, death, twist ending?

If anyone would have told you that you would have been attending your own funeral one day you would have laughed in their face and yet here you were watching yourself being placed into the ground while your family all pretended to mourn your passing. Rain was hammering down above them as your mother turned t cry in your twin-brothers arms, he glanced over at his father who was staring down at the ground as they lowered the coffin into the dirt. You couldn't help but stare at your mother as you watched her faking tears in front of everyone they'd managed to get to attend. You wondered if anyone knew what had really happened that day or if your parents were going along with the same story they had assembled together as you'd laid in your hospital bed. Jin let out a choked sob as he held your mum, the only true family member that you thought could have possibly been upset was him at this moment but there was no way the rest of them would have been. As if they could ever be upset that you were now gone from their lives forever. See, this wasn't some romance story about how you'd managed to overcome a terrible home life and came out stronger at the end of it, no, this was the story of how you died.

Scoffing at your mum you continued to let her yell at you for things that were out of your control while she told you how Jin would have had them finished seconds within being asked. He was coming home so of course, he was being brought up into every conversation she could think of. All morning she'd had you running around after her like you were some kind of maid instead of her daughter. Cleaning the house from top to bottom, making sure that everything was perfect for Jin's arrival. He'd been on tour for the last four months so you'd managed to avoid speaking with your parents unless you came home one night from work and they were still awake. Other than that you did your damn best to stay out of their way not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of them hurling insults about you. It didn't matter what you were doing they would put you in a side by side comparison with your twin brother Jin. The famous k-pop star that had managed to move out, have a successful job and life while you were still living at home. Working three jobs trying to save up enough to leave but your parents would never see that, they only saw what they wanted to see. In their eyes, you could do nothing right whereas Jin could do nothing wrong, it had been this way for years only you were the only one who wasn't blind to it. Jin could hardly see it since he wasn't around much when it happened, when he was around they played it off as some kind of joke so he wouldn't get upset. The two of you had always been close since you were twins but your parents always put you both head to head with one another. Trying to play it off as harmless and healthy family competition when it was nothing of the sorts, it was more like competition to see who was the better child.

"You expect your brother to stay out in the garage when his room is perfectly capable of being cleaned and stayed in?" Your mother snapped as she looked at you, it was the night before Jin was due to come home and of course, it was being put down to you at the last second to get the house cleaned and ready for him to come back to. Only now that you had finished the household chores she was expecting you to sleep in the garage while Jin had his old room back, which had been converted into your bedroom when he moved out.

"I just finished cleaning, I put everything-"

"I don't want to hear any excused, my baby boy deserves his room and his room is what he shall get. Move your stuff out. It's only for a couple of days." There was no use in trying to argue with her when you knew she would only move your things out when you weren't looking, only she'd throw everything into the trash instead of moving it out properly. There was no point in this, Jin was only home for three days, it wasn't as if he was attempting to move back in full and he'd ahead called to say he was fine on the sofa.

"Fine," You grumbled, walking towards the staircase to go and clean everything out of the bedroom as well as change the sheets over so he wouldn't have to sleep on dirty used sheets. Your mum wouldn't want her precious prince sleeping on something someone else had been sleeping in.

"Make sure you get that smelly cat out of there!" She screeched up the stairs as you rolled your eyes, staring down at your peacefully sleeping kitten as you thought about moving her out of the room.

"Come on bubs," You whispered, picking her up and carrying her into the bathroom where she curled up in a pile of your washing so you could continue cleaning the bedroom up.

"I told you I was fine on the sofa," Jin laughed as you took him up to the bedroom, carrying the bags he'd bought home with him into your room.

"Mum said you needed a real room to sleep in, I'll be fine on the sofa." You lied knowing that if you even attempted to sleep on the sofa your mother would throw a fit, you'd be out in the garage on a blow-up air mattress.

"You sure? I know how cramped you can get on them-"

"Exactly why my little boy will be in a comfortable bed. I need him to be well-rested so he doesn't get too sick for work," You mother told him as if she'd been waiting for the perfect time to chime in on your conversation,

"Tell him you're fine on the sofa," She stared at you, the look on her face was one you knew all too well. "Agree or be prepared," so you nodded, faking a smile as you told Jin it was fine.

"Me, you and your father are going out to dinner tonight. We're going to make sure we celebrate the end of your tour." Jin glanced in your direction wondering why you hadn't been invited along to the family event but your mother pulled him out of the room before he could ask questions. Your father came in next with a look of disgust on his face,

"You could have dusted, poor boy is going to catch a cold or something in here." That was the way it always was. No matter how hard you worked or how perfect you had something it was never enough.

"I'll do it while you're out to dinner." You mumbled, pushing past him as he grumbled about you not having manners while your brother was blessed with them. The small jabs were the ones that hurt the most, the ones that were seemingly innocent to everyone around you but hurt you a lot on the inside.

"What are you doing now? Are you still working in that pet store?" Jin looked at you as he seemed generally interested in your life and for the most part he was. Jin had always been the kind and caring, older-than-you-by-five-minutes brother but he didn't notice what went on with the family and if he did he chose to ignore it all.

"Yeah, I work at the pet store on the weekends, then I have the pharmacy on the weekdays and at nights I do some bar work," Jin stared at you confused, he worked more than enough for none of you to work not to mention he'd give his parents access to an account for you to use for funding to move out.

"Why-"

"Jin! You need to shower, the restaurant is quite fancy," Your father told him as he patted your brother on the back, patting your shoulder at the same time only he began to rub harsh circles into your muscle.

"Why isn't Y/n coming?" Jin asked not noticing the grip your father was giving to you getting tighter the longer you sat there.

"She's going to work all weekend, she needs her energy. Isn't that right?" Your father stared at you and you knew it was a ploy for you to go along with it so you nodded,

"Busy, busy bee." You laughed forceable but Jin looked more confused, wanting to ask why you were working three jobs while his parents barely worked one and why you were even still living at home but he was pushed out of the kitchen.

"We have to catch up later!" He yelled as your father pushed him up the stairs, your mother glaring at you as if daring you to say anything more to him on the job subject. The fact was, you weren't working that weekend. You'd managed to take some time off to get to spend it with your brother, convincing all three of your bosses that you needed the time for family.

Later that night when you thought Jin would be asleep you began taking your sleeping bag and light out to the garage, he'd come back a few hours ago with an intoxicated mother and father who headed straight to bed. Jin and you had decided to have a catch up on the sofa but you managed to avoid all conversations surrounding jobs, focussing most of the conversations around him and his tour of the world. You were always so proud of your brother for doing something he'd dreamt of doing since you were kids, relieving his childhood fantasies of exploring the world whilst getting paid to do so.

"Where are you going?" You froze in place as you saw the light in the landing turn on and Jin staring at you, he was standing in some RJ pyjamas while watching you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"To get something from the garage, go back to bed." You were hoping he was too tired to question it but he stepped down the stairs and walked closer to you. Touching the sleeping bag that was in your hands,

"With a sleeping bag and a torch? What are you doing?" He chuckled as he thought you might have been sneaking out to go camping for a while but you couldn't think of a single thing to tell him. Not a single rational thing that was.

"Mum asked me to stay in there, she doesn't want the sofa to get messy or ruined." Jin seemed to wake up more at the mention of your mother and he frowned.

"Speaking of mum, why are you still living at home? Working three jobs?" He laughed thinking it was your choice to do this but you saw it as him laughing at you, joining in with his parents.

"Not all of us can be blessed with talents that got us out of the shitty home we live in. I'm working like a dog day and night to get out of this hell-hole." You scoffed at him finally losing your cool with your brother after all these years. It had nothing to do with him but it still hurt to know he was laughing at you.

"Why? You don't have to work three jobs? I sent you enough money in that account to get you an apartment for a year-paid in advance, with food and everything you would need," You stared at him, mouth hanging open as he told you that you had your own bank account that you'd never even heard about before.

"What?" Your heart dropped as you realised what your family had been keeping from you, what your mother and father had no doubt spent already while you worked more hours than legally required.

"I sent mum and dad the details last year, they didn't give it to you?" You dropped the sleeping bag and torch onto the floor, storming up to the bedroom with tears in your eyes. You had no idea if you were going to speak to them or if you were going to confront them, your body was moving faster than your brain could register anything.

"Y/n! Wait! They're sleeping! You can't just-" You span around and JIn stopped talking, tears were running down your face with anger as you confronted him,

"I can't just what? Barge in and demand what they've done with my money? I can't just ask them why I'm paying the rent for this entire fucking house while they sit around and do nothing all day?!" You were yelling now, past the point in caring if your parents woke up or if the neighbours heard you but Jin was shushing you, begging you to be quiet.

"I work like a dog! Day and fucking night and for what?!" You stared at Jin as the door behind you opened, your mother wrapped her body in a dressing gown.

"What is going on?" She snapped, staring at you waiting for the answer so you turned back to face her.

"Where's the money that Jin sent for me?" She stared at you confused, shaking her head as she was trying to think of an answer for you, seemingly coming up with nothing as she stumbled over her words.

"We were saving it for when you were mature enough to handle it," You scoffed at your father's words as he spoke from the bed, not bothering to move out of it to sort the situation out.

"Mature enough to handle it? In other words, you spent it all and didn't bother to let me see it?" Jin watched in horror as you spoke back to your parents with the attitude you were using,

"Tell him, tell Jin that I had no idea the account even existed," Your mother turned to look at Jin but he held his hand up,

"If this is the way you act with them I have no problem seeing why they kept it from you," You stared at him, your mouth hanging open again as he took their side throughout this.

"Do you hear yourself? Accusing them of spending the money?" He questioned as he looked at your mother, faking tears as your father rushed to her aide,

"Unbelievable. They don't work but I'm expected to work three jobs a week...I'm fucking done, find someone else to use as your scapegoat." You stormed down to your bedroom, pushing the door open as you grabbed random bits of your clothing, food and water you had stored inside of the room.

"What are you doing?" Jin asked in a panicked voice as he came onto the drive to see you packing up his old car, it was the one he'd learnt to drive in when he was 18 and had been sitting in the garage rusting and breaking for years but it was the only escape you had.

"Leaving. I want to see if they'll still be able to live in the fancy house without my money," You forced out a fake laugh as you stared up at your b brother,

"Or is it your turn to bail them out? Have fun," You slammed the boot of the car down and climbed inside, ignoring Jin's pleas for you to wait until the pouring rain stopped but you didn't want to wait. You didn't want to give them a chance to weasel their way out of this squeeze they'd gotten into.

"I am done Jin!" You yelled, tears rolling down your cheeks without them meaning to, he watched you as he saw the pain in your face. All the years of mental abuse you'd taken from your parents finally hitting you in one night,

"I'm done being the child that went wrong, I am done with them using me for my money. Do you have any idea what it's like to live with them?"

"Of course, I do. I lived here too-"

"No, Jin. You didn't have to put up with constantly being compared to your twin brother, the one that was famous, the one that could do no wrong. The one that everyone adored! But, me? I work three jobs, I study, I do everything around the house including pay the rent and I don't even get a thank you," As you explained it Jin shook his head, not believing for a second that his parents would be the ones doing this to you there had to be some kind of explanation for it all but if he wasn't going to believe you then there was nothing more to be said.

"You're just jealous," You stared at him in silence as the thunder around you clapped loudly, you started the engine and drove off without another word.

"Y/N! Y/N! The car won't make it!" He screamed running inside to get his own car keys and follow after you, not trusting the car in the slightest.

Jin panicked when he couldn't see you around in the roads, he'd only left five minutes after you but there was no sight of you anywhere or the bright green car you'd driven away in.

"Come on," He groaned looking around the roads, it was calm to say it was pouring it down with rain and as he went to turn on one of the crossroads he saw it. The green car you were driving struggling to move as a grey van came rushing towards you, the once quiet roads were now buzzing with yelling, car horns and screeching sounds, as the van driver who hadn't been paying attention suddenly try to swerve to miss you failing miserably. All of a sudden it was as if time picked up, the car rolled over into a ditch and a large banging could be heard, Jin raced over to you. Ignoring people as they told him not to get too close, the acrid smell burnt his nose as he got closer to the car, you were crying out as you waited for someone to come and get to you. The driver-side door was crushed against the floor of the ditch and Jin could tell from one look you'd broken more than one bone on the impact,

"I'm coming." He mumbled, sliding into the ditch to see you, your eyes were heavy and you choked out a cough, blood falling down your chin as you struggled to stay awake.

"Hey, I'm right here. I'll get you out," He told you as he yelled out for someone to call an ambulance, you stared at him through your half-lidded eyes, struggling to breathe from the airbag that had burst and the seatbelt that felt as though it was crushing you.

"Look at me Y/n, look at me." He begged as your eyes began to close you stared back at him, shaking your head as you mumbled something he could barely hear.

"We're going to get you out, everything will be fine." He whispered as he heard you mumbling something about dying, he took your hand in his as he reached through the smashed passenger window trying to comfort you in any way that he could. Ignoring the instincts inside of him that told him to run from the car, it was leaking all kind of liquids and he knew it could explode at any point but he wasn't going to leave you there.

After pulling you out of the wreck, Jin carried you up and away from the car not wanting to be close to it when it exploded and you coughed out more blood onto the floor beside you.

"What happened?" A paramedic asked as they laid you on the ground, wrapping you in a neck brace as they began to try and take vital signs from you, your hand was gripping onto Jin's as you stared up at him shaking your head. Your body was growing weaker and weaker by the second and it was harder to breathe now than ever,

"Don't bring me back," You said breathlessly as you stared up at him, the paramedics stared at you waiting for you to repeat it,

"What?"

"Don't...Bring me back," You begged with your old brother who looked at you, tears rolling down his face as he began to realise how bad things must have been at home for you to beg for this to happen. The sounds around you began to fade as you laid there, the paramedics still working on your body no matter what you had said to them but you knew your time was coming, you smiled at the thought of getting away from it all and laid there accepting your fate.

"This was all her fault, if she hadn't decided to run off in a hissy fit none of this would have happened," Your father grumbled as they spoke to a police officer that had come to the door to inform them of everything, they had no idea Jin was standing just off the side of the porch listening in to everything.

"She'd been drinking, we went out to a meal." Your mother lied as she spoke to the policemen, no tears in their eyes as they listened to what had happened to you that night.

"Our son, Jin, he went to look for her is he..." Your father trailed off wanting confirmation that Jin was okay but the officer shook his head,

"I was just told to inform you about your daughter, we'll inform you if anything else comes up." The officer left but the front door was left open as your parents spoke with one another, your mother crying out as she gripped onto your father's shirt.

"If he's gone too we will lose everything, Jin is our last option for the house." Your mother whimpered as Jin stood there in horror, at a time like this all they could think about was the house?

He waited for them to shut the door before heading to the hospital to see you laying there, hooked up to different machines and covered in casts. You'd broken your arm and leg as well as your right rib, losing a lot of blood but the doctors told Jin you were going to be fine. He sat down in the chair beside your bed and held your hand that wasn't in a cast,

"I promise to get you out of here." He whispered, kissing the top of your hand as he got up once again to find someone to speak about moving your room and finding another person to guard your room wanting to protect you from anything he could.

Jin walked into a hotel bar after the funereal with tear stains down his face as he looked around, wiping his eyes he walked over to some of the bar stools and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, the funeral was over. The old you had died and this was your chance for a fresh start in life. Your parents thought you were gone and that was the least you could do for them, if you had just run away things would have been worse. They never would have stopped trying to bring you back and Jin knew that he created accounts for you to use for money, setting you up with a new home and identity far away from your parents and him.

"How was it?" He asked as he slid you a drink, you laughed sipping on the wine,

"It's weird...Attending my own funeral, never thought I would do it," He laughed softly, kissing your cheek as he smiled at you.

"I promised to keep you safe...I'll visit whenever I can just try not to get in the papers or...You know, go back home." You nodded in agreement with him, changing your identity had been the easy part of all of this, leaving behind your brother was going to be harder but he told you he had a plan. Slowly taking his parents off his money before no longer funding them, he wanted them to pay for everything they had done to you over the years and he was going to do whatever it could to make up for you being treated that way, even if it wasn't his fault.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @that-anxious-bisexual @mwitsmejk

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shakey-hands · 4 years ago

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new ff?

hey guys! i’m working out scenarios and stories in my head. this is just a snippet of one. lmk if you wanna see more or if its meh.

TW: self harm (burns)

---

It was annoying to Aizawa how good she looked. From the way her hair flowed like she was in slow motion to the makeup on her face. He had spent years disliking her for leaving him while she galavanted off to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what. Her red hair was shorter compared to when they were kids. It hit just past her shoulders, in some sort of half up half down look. The time away had tanned her skin incredibly, giving it a healthy glow. He could only guess she was embracing her American side. Just the thought left a warm feeling in his stomach that he quickly put out. They weren’t kids anymore, he couldn’t just rely on his school yard crush to take over the minute he saw a sparkle in her turquoise eyes. Plus they looked too similar to one of his student’s eyes. Aizawa had to get a grip.

She wore a cream colored turtleneck tucked into jeans. Only a few people knew what lay under the wool material, scratching against the ribbed skin that had healed itself many years before. The burns had been self-inflicted. Aizawa could still remember her tears as the wounds slowly bled. The feeling of her soft hand held in his as she trembled from the remnants of the pain. How ashamed she had felt from falling for the whispers from the shadows. But she had been so determined to be better than Enji that she did anything to be a step up. To be seen as worthy.

But that had been in their second year. Time had passed and Aizawa was a different person. He had responsibilities that he couldn’t drop just because she fluttered her eyelashes and sent him a smile only meant for him. He remembered the days in their shared apartment, when they were fresh out of UA. The two would stay in bed on their off days, whispering things that Aizawa would rather leave between them and holding one another. Now Aizawa slept alone in his bed at Heights Alliance, glad they only gave him a twin sized mattress that left him with little to no extra room.

A soft smile stretched across her lips, something sad lingering just past the surface. The teachers watched as she raised her hand as a greeting. Aizawa could feel Hizashi getting excited next to him. Of course the blond was excited. He didn’t have to deal with the heartache and the burning eyes when she left. Hizashi got a simple note that he still didn’t let Aizawa read.

The students of classes 1A and 1B watched as this new woman stepped up in front of them. Nobody recognized her from anywhere. They wouldn’t have unless they happened to be some UA super fan. If they were, they’d know one of the most promising and powerful students to ever walk the halls was in front of them. But her hero career hadn’t been what she thought it would be and suddenly she was a nobody in the eyes of these teenagers. And surprisingly? She didn’t care. To come in with a clean slate felt nice. Their watchful eyes caught on to Aizawa’s tension and her nerves, but nobody could guess the story. Well, except for Todoroki, but that’s only because Natsuo and Fuyumi filled him in a couple nights before.

“Students,” Nezu said in a calming voice. “We have a real treat. This is Dai Todoroki, a very esteemed UA alumna.”

The woman laughed softly and shook her head. “Esteemed might be too strong of a word in this instance.”

Nezu shot her a knowing look before continuing. “Due to the recent villain attacks, I thought I could bring her on as one more combat training teacher. I’m sure her smarts and power could rival any of your favorite heroes.”

Bakugo let out a scoff. Some glanced at him, but others ignored. The main spot where eyes landed was the nervous All-Might who stood the farthest down the line of teachers. The expectation of one of the strongest heroes in history being matched by this random woman in front of them felt preposterous. His fingers fidgeted as he looked through the crowd. There was a nervous energy about All-Might and only a couple of students noted how he didn’t once look at Dai since she had come into the training facility. His eyes landed on Midoriya, sending him a ‘see-me-after-this-is-over’ look for a quick second before continuing. Bakugo also received one, though it was even quicker than Midoriya’s.

“I’m sure you will all help me in making her feel welcomed back into the UA family.”

The bell rang, concluding the small year one assembly. As the students began to head to lunch, a small buzz of whispers floated in the air. The students were keeping an eye on her as she turned to the teachers. Her smile turned into a nervous baring of teeth in her slow turn towards her peers. Hizashi was quick to pull her into a hug, damning the rules of professionalism. A genuine laugh escaped her lips as she wrapped her arms around his torso. The two spun around for a moment before he let her down, cupping both her cheeks and smiling down at her.

“You look gorgeous!” Hizashi exclaimed. “The short look suits you.”

Dai giggled and brushed it off her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Her voice was softer than anyone remembered. No one could have guessed what happened in those ten years that she had been away. In fact, as Aizawa chose to get a closer look, he noticed that a lot of things had softened around her. The defined muscles she used to have were gone and a little more weight was added, making her curvier than she already was. Not to mention how the aura around her was not as determined nor fiery as Aizawa remembered. She was now in her thirties, a calm woman who looked like she could have an office job that gave her vacation days.

Dai’s eyes glanced over the teachers. While her eyes lingered on Aizawa, he noticed that it was him that was making her nervous. She played with her own fingers, grazing over a ring on her left middle finger that Aizawa had never seen before. It was a thin silver band. Plain and nothing exciting. Dai kept her eyes moving until they reached All Might, who was nervous looking at the door, trying to figure out an excuse to go talk to Midoriya and Bakugo. Or in a better use of words, warn them about their new teacher. It was in that moment that both Hizashi and Aizawa watched a familiar flame in her eye get cast. An old determination seemed to fill her as she smirked.

“Hello, Toshi. Long time, no see.”

#aizawa shouta #all might #present mic #eraserhead #endeavor #enji todoroki #shoto todoroki #izuku midoriya #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia #mha #bnha #dabi #toshinori yagi

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pedros-mustache · 4 years ago

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mr. grinch

summary: javi was never going to be the all-out-for-the-holidays type, was he?

word count: 2.7k

warnings: borderline soft!javi (the heart wants what the heart wants), specifically related to the christmas holiday, a disgusting amount of fluff, x fem!reader

a/n: wrote a post about this concept and decided that wasn’t enough. my forte is angst and pining, not fluff, so forgive me if this is trash.

also: this will be repeated in the future, i’m sure, but if you have at all interacted with/commented on/reblogged/liked any of my previous fics thank! you! i would reply to each and every comment however that would require exposing my main (as this is a side-blog) and that’s not gonna happen. please know that i see and feel your love! xoxo!

you long for the day after thanksgiving more than thanksgiving itself.

sure, you enjoy the november holiday; it’s not like you hate it. especially since getting married, since having kids, you find thanksgiving means a little more to you now than it did prior to adulthood.

you enjoy packing the kids up and traveling across town to your mother’s house for thanksgiving breakfast and then packing the kids up again and going to javi’s father’s house for thanksgiving dinner. you enjoy sitting beside your husband, your hand on his thigh, as you watch your children play with their cousins or be passed around by distant aunts and uncles. you enjoy knowing that you’re safe, that javi’s safe, that the babies are safe. you enjoy knowing that you’re loved.

really, thanksgiving is nice, a good reminder of all that you have to be thankful for. but it’s just that: nice.

the day after thanksgiving, though... that’s when the real fun begins.

since childhood, your family has waited to decorate for christmas until the day after thanksgiving, and you’ve brought the tradition to your new household. javi tells you that your excitement for christmas overshadows thanksgiving, and maybe it does, but you really don’t care. not when christmas is ten times more cozy and festive than thanksgiving could ever dream of being.

this year, you rise early on the appointed day and wake javi with a firm shake to the shoulder. he groans, rolls over to his stomach, and slips his head beneath a pillow.

“too early,” he mutters.

you exit the ensuite bathroom, rubbing your lotioned palms together as you prepare for a long day of unwrapping dusty boxes and fragile decorations. with a grin, you tap javi’s foot beneath the bedcovers. “get up before i sic the kids on you.”

he mumbles something under his breath, but the weight of the pillow muffles his words, so you leave him to his sulking. he’s never been a morning person, not in all the years you’ve known him. in a few minutes he’ll be up; you just have to give him time.

you find your son, tomás, awake and raring to go. six and a half years old and responsible as ever, it is his greatest joy in life to make his father proud. and though javier is a man of few emotional words, there’s a soft spot in his heart for both his children. today marks the first year tomás is old enough and capable enough to help his father with the outdoor decorations, and he’s already halfway dressed, his small feet shoved in tiny boots and his unruly hair snug beneath a baseball cap.

leaning against the doorframe, you watch as tomás struggles to get his arms through the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “you’re up bright and early,” you say, arching an eyebrow.

“wanna”—he bites his lip in concentration—“wanna help daddy today.” he drops his head with a heavy sigh. one elbow in particular remains stuck in the sleeve of his shirt, caught at a ninety degree angle.

you cross the bedroom to kneel in front of him and gently tug on his shirtsleeve. the arm once stuck at an uncomfortable angle flops to his side, and you smooth your hands over his narrow shoulders. “i’m sure you’ll be a big help, tommy. you just have to promise to do as daddy says.”

“yeah, i promise.”

with a squeeze to his arm, you cock your head to the open bedroom door. “go run downstairs and pour yourself some cereal while i get your sister up. daddy will be down soon.”

boots heavy around his ankles, tomás dutifully makes his way to the kitchen, his steps slow as he descends the steep stairs. his shoes clomp on the hardwood, and you hesitate, waiting to hear the cabinet doors open and shut, before moving to wake your daughter. you know by now that, though tomás thinks himself a fully grown boy, his legs often move faster than his brain, and you’ve had one too many tumbles down the staircase to show for it. the last thing you need today is a split forehead or bonked chin.

like her brother, julieta is awake when you enter her dimly lit nursery. she gives you a gummy smile when you reach down to lift her from the small mattress, and she gurgles happily as you change her diaper and dress her for the day. her arms flap against her sides in joy as you enter your bedroom and place her on your bed. with practiced effort, julieta crawls her way up the bed and presses her tiny fists against javi’s shoulders.

“come on, javier,” you say, pulling the covers away from your husband’s body. he groans in response, head still tucked beneath his pillow. “tommy’s already downstairs waiting for you.”

with a huff, javi turns to his back, drawing julieta with him, one broad hand splayed across her entire back. “getting up this early the day after thanksgiving is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“no—you’re just dramatic.”

“i think i ate too much pie yesterday.” he sits up with a frown. “i’m gonna have a beer gut like my uncle before you know it.”

“maybe, but i reckon you’ll still look cute.” you grab his wrist and tug him out of bed. he keeps julieta firm against his chest as he moves. “you know i don’t like to waste time, so please move that cute ass of yours downstairs. it’s past eight-thirty already.”

javi tosses a surprised look over his shoulder as you shove him out of the room, plaid pajama pants and all. “you think i have a cute ass?”

“shut up,” you grumble.

tomás sits at the kitchen table, bowl of cereal on his plastic placemat. he grins when javi enters the room, and a line of milk dribbles down his chin, which you are quick to wipe away with a stray napkin.

“hi, daddy.” rising to his knees, tomás swivels in his seat and braces his hands on the back of the chair. he watches as javi deposits julieta in her high-chair then sets about making his morning pot of coffee. “we’re gonna put the lights up outside today?”

without turning away from the coffee maker, javi nods. “yeah, champ. but, you know, i was thinking.” his eyes slide to yours as he shuts the coffee maker’s lid and flips the on button. “what if we did something... different this year?”

you still. julieta makes grabby fingers for the half of the banana that still hasn’t been sliced for her, and she kicks her legs against the high-chair. “different?” you narrow your eyes. “different how?”

“oh, i dunno.” javi leans back against the stove and crosses his arms over his chest. he has all the air of nonchalance, but you know this is a calculated attack. if you know anything about your husband, it’s that once he gets an idea in his head, he’ll work his way forwards and backwards to bring it to fruition. “just different.”

“so no lights?”

javi shakes his head in reassurance for both you and your son. “no, tommy, we’ll still have lights. just different lights.” for the crescendo of his argument, javi crosses the kitchen and crouches beside your chair. he squeezes your thigh, his brown eyes soft and pleading. “come on, mi vida, let’s spice it up a little bit. i’ve got it all worked out, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

you toss your head back on a laugh. “oh, i’m sure i won’t!”

“trust me, baby,” he whispers, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, and, for a moment, focusing more on the patterns of your face than his end goal.

you feel your resolve soften. how can it not? javi is decidedly undomestic, even with a wife and two kids. oh, he loves you; he adores his children. but it’s been a long time coming to get to this moment—him on his knees with his own holiday decoration plans. you’d be a fool to turn him down.

you shut your eyes and give him a nod. “okay, fine. i trust you.”

javi pops to his feet with a loud clap and equally as loud, “alright!” he points to tomás. “finish your cereal, kid, ‘cause we got work to do.”

dropping a kiss to the top of your head, he makes for the stairs. his socked feet slide on the linoleum, which causes to tomás to laugh in amusement, but you’re too stunned by javi’s sudden change of mood that you can’t help but feel like you’ve been duped.

spice up christmas decorations? you can only pray that whatever he has in store won’t get you a stern letter from the homeowner’s association.

***

before beginning his mysterious outdoor decorating project, javi pulls all the boxes labeled christmas down from the attic. he helps you assemble the artificial tree in the corner of the living room, and he, though with a good measure of grumbling, adjusts and readjusts the garland draping the front door.

but as soon as you give him the go ahead, he pushes you inside, makes you promise not to peek until he’s finished, and, like schoolboys up to no good, hurries away with tomás.

as the door slams in your face, effectively cutting you out of the fun, you glance at your daughter and roll your eyes. “men,” you say, and she coos in agreement.

it’s easy to get lost in your work for the remainder of the afternoon. there’s tens of ornaments to put on the tree and the little village to set up along the front windowsill. julieta follows as you move throughout the house. she crawls, or scoots on her bum, or rolls behind in her baby walker. she’s primarily a happy baby, and after tomás and his terrible twos, you’re thankful for a reprieve from the incessant crying and surly attitude.

christmas tune after christmas tune drifts from the record player in the foyer, and you bump along to the music, finding the work of unpacking boxes and artfully arranging decorations is not so much work with a good playlist and a giggly baby on your hip.

after pausing for lunch, you resume with the finishing touches. the house looks cozy, you have to admit. the tree sparkles in its corner, and the quaint ceramic village display on the windowsill reminds you spending the holidays with your grandmother as a child. there’s miniature, stuffed snowmen in the kitchen that tomás made in school and papier-mâché carolers that javi’s aunt crafted in the hall. an advent calendar hangs from the back of the closet door, and a spring of faux mistletoe dangles over the dining room doorway.

you’re proud of your work, but more than that, you’re proud of the life you’ve made alongside your husband. when he’d proposed all those years ago (a dreadfully unromantic proposal of a ring simply slid across the table at a restaurant), he’d promised life with him wouldn’t be easy. he hadn’t been lying. still, you’ve made it this far, and you wouldn’t go back on your vows for the world.

it does surprise you that you haven’t heard a peep out of the boys for most of the day. tomás hasn’t so much as run inside to use the bathroom or grab a drink of water. either javi’s spicy christmas decorations were more labor-intensive than he’d originally planned, or he’d jaunted off to his father’s house to escape the responsibility, taking tomás with him. you can’t decide which possibility you’d prefer.

before you can pick up the phone to call your father-in-law, the garage door opens. javi sticks his head into the hallway, a wide grin on his face when he sees you.

“okay, we’re ready.”

you put a hand on your hip. “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure.” he steps inside long enough to lift julieta from her place in the bouncy walker. he sets her on his shoulders, and she squeals as she grabs fistfuls of his hair. “i thought you trusted me?”

you place the phone on the receiver and grab your jacket. “don’t throw my words back at me, javier.”

he taps your ass when you brush past him into the garage. “you’ll love it,” he says. “but you have to close your eyes.”

“really? just how different are these decorations?”

“oh, it’s like nothin’ you’ve seen before, hermosa. now shut your eyes!” with an exaggerated sigh, you close your eyes. javi squeezes your shoulder, and you start to walk forward into the driveway. “tomás, keep a watch on your mother. make sure she doesn’t peek.”

javi maneuvers you until you feel the driveway beneath your feet give way to soft grass. he places julieta in your arms then squeezes both of your shoulders. you can feel the excitement in his fingers, feel it in the way he practically bounces with anticipation behind you. you have entirely no idea of what to expect, but if putting up christmas decorations has made javi this excited, no matter what the decor is, you’ll let him do it every year.

“ready, tommy?”

“ready!”

javi presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his arm winding around your stomach to pull you back against his chest. he is firm behind you, the solid foundation on which your family stands. “ready, mi vida?” his voice is low, and even after all this time, it still sends a shiver down your spine.

in lieu of answering aloud, you simply nod.

“okay. tomás, in three... two... one.” he squeezes your hip. “open your eyes.”

the air in your chest leaves in a giant whoosh as you take in his decorations.

“oh my god, javier,” is all you can say as you stare in dumb-founded shock.

javier laughs—a real, hearty laugh—as he watches your face. “isn’t it great?!”

it—it being a wooden cutout painted to look like dr. seuss’s the grinch.

it being that cutout pulling down a strand of illuminated colored lights from the gutter.

it being the most half-hearted christmas decorations you’ve ever seen.

“where on earth did you get that?”

“eddie from two streets away. i saw it in his yard and knew i had to have one, so he got another from his guy and gave it to me.” he shakes his head as he looks on in pride. “best forty bucks i ever spent. it’s been in the back of my truck for weeks!”

“you are so lucky that i love you, javier.”

he laughs again, squeezing you tighter against his chest. “hey! i put lights on the bushes for you. that’s gotta count for something?”

dropping your head against his shoulder, you nod. “it does. and the more i look at the grinch, the funnier it is.” you hold up a finger. “but i’m not laughing yet.”

you glance at your neighbor’s house, at the cookie-cuter lights lining the frame of their two-story, at the mechanical reindeer bobbing their heads up and down. you look back at your... grinch, at his twisted smile and tip-toed stance and the sad string of lights wound from his hand to the gutter. you snort in amusement.

“i’ve got to hand it to you—this is the most javier peña thing you’ve ever done. i’m almost proud.”

“i knew you’d love it.”

turning in his arms, you shake your head. “no, i just love you.”

javi smiles and lowers his head to kiss you softly. it’s his way of returning the sentiment, and you preen under his affection.

but then you pull away with a frown. “wait a minute.” laying a finger against his chest, you tilt your head toward tomás. “where have you been all day? this set-up couldn’t have taken more than half an hour.”

javi cringes and glances at his son. he rubs a hand across the back of his beck. “yeah, about that...”

tomás appears from his place plugging in the outdoor extension chords. “daddy took me to the shooting range!”

gaping, you sputter to form a coherent sentence. “you what?!”

“tomás,” javi whispers, swiping his palm over his son’s hair. “you weren’t supposed to say anything.” he looks up through his lashes with a wry smile. “we did—yeah, we did go to the range for a bit.”

“oh, javier peña, you are so lucky i love you.”

javi grins, captures your chin between his fingers, and kisses you again. “yeah, i am.”

***

taglist: @insideafictionaluniverse @ladytrashbird @generaldamneron

#javier pena x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña x reader #x fem!reader #pm writes

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resi4skz · 1 year ago

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From Brush to Heart (a bang chan fanfic) CHAPTER 3

Pairings: Bang Chan/Rebecca(OC), Han/Luna(OC) Genre: Romcom

She smiles at me and says, "It's alright. I understand."

"Thank you for understanding," I say, bowing.

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

On the way out, I decide to stop for coffee and some food. But I run into a body as I walk out. "Ah, I'm sorry!" I bow three times.

"Ghamsamnida." Felix says as he bows.

"I didn't get a chance to say thank you."

Holy shit. "Uhm, it's okay really!"

"No, I wanted to properly thank you. What you did, you basically saved my life. So thank you." He bows. He's bowing.....to me. I immediately bow back. "Let me buy you a drink."

"Ah no! It's okay! Really! I was just glad that no one got to your bag and did something unthinkable. No need to give me anything for being a decent human being."

He laughs at that but insists. "Please. I feel bad."

"Hello?"

"Is this Ms. Becca Greywood?"

"Speaking."

"This is HR team for JYPE. We were wondering if you could start much later than you're original start date?"

I sit up straight. "How much later are we talking here?"

"6 to 8 months."

"What?! That's way too long!" How am I suppose to pay for rent let alone food?

I debated for a second if I should quit but they offered to pay me. "Alright. I think I can work with that. As long as I get paid, I can wait."

"Okay. Sounds good. We will make sure to give you a call if anything changes in our schedules."

"Okay, thank you." Sighing, I hang up and sit on my couch and stab a rice cake with my fork. "Dammit, I was really looking forward to this. I guess I can work part time or something."

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

As I wait for my cab, my phone rings."Hello?"

"Hey girlie!"

"Luna? Oh my god! Where the hell have you been?!" The last time I talked to her was just after I landed.

"I have been busy doing something that you're going to LOVE me for it."

"Oh no. What did you do this time? Do I have to call someone to help you with whatever it is you got going on?"

"What? No! I quit my job," she replies.

"Wait what? But you loved your job!" Is being serious right now?

"I know. But I found something better. I applied for a barista and they hired me. So I'll be moving next month."

My heart drops. "Moving?"

"Yes. So you got a place for me in your apartment?"

I blink. And then I blink again. "Wait, are you telling me that you got a job here?"

"Yes. A coffee shop that's pretty close by to your place by the name of Just Java."

Oh, that's like 5 blocks aways from my place. "When were you planning on telling me?"

"Now?"

This girl. I sigh and ask, "And when is your flight? I'll come get you."

"It's next week on Thursday so I'll probably get there by Friday or Saturday the latest."

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

"Oh my god, I can't believe I'm here with you!" Luna says excitedly.

"Bestie, I missed you!"

"I missed you too!" She says as she pulls back to finally look at me. "Something is different about you."

I roll my eyes. "Here we go."

"Did you do something with your hair?"

"No, but," she says as the driver starts driving towards my apartment. I know she's looking at me. The nerve in my head is about to pop. "Hmm, I can't put my finger on it."

"Whoa." Luna eyes widen as she looks at the size of the living area. "Wow. You really made it a home."

"Yup. Come on, I'll show you your room," I open the second room door and let her walk inside. "I left the walls empty. I figured you'd want to decorate it yourself."

"Thank you," she hugs me and takes her luggage and plops it by her bed.

"I'll let you unpack. The bathroom is next to the kitchen." I close the door and walk to the kitchen to make some food.

*2hrs later*

I'm in my gym attire: crop top, leggings and hair in a messy bun. I walk out of my room only to have Luna drop something on the floor. "Whoa, what happened?"

"Girl, what the fuck?"

"Huh?" I blink at her.

"I know what's different about you! You've been working out. Holy shit, are those abs?"

"I ain't complaining. You look good."

"Thanks," I smile. "Now are you okay by yourself for the next 2 hours?"

"Yeah. Go. I'll probably be sleeping by the time you get home."

"Alright, see you in a bit." I grab my things and head out to the gym.

CH 1

CH 2

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