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thismaydestroyme · 3 years

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Denver: Love on Tour

i didn’t have any idea what i wanted to name this blurb. this shit wiped me out, and i don’t know if this is any good. i can’t bring myself to reread this over. it’s currently 2 in the morning, and i’m about to hit the hay. i hope you find this somewhat tolerable.

warning: that’s a loaded question

word count: 3084

That fucking little teasing dance Harry did while he was performing ‘Woman” will forever be ingrained in your head.

That fucking cheeky bastard.

Harry is so loved on stage and he was feeling himself the entire night, that’s why he did that cheeky dance because he knew his beautiful girlfriend, Y/N would go in a frenzy and that’s what he wanted. Of course he had to throw something in for Y/N, what kind of boyfriend would he be?

When Harry was finished with his show, he ran backstage to find Y/N, but he had to stop and appreciate everyone’s remark when they were throwing gratitude and compliments his way by his performance tonight. We could all say Denver won this round compared to the Las Vegas show.

“Harry, you ate that!”

“You whore!”

“That was amazing”

“You deserve to have your ass eaten out.”

Harry immediately turned around to find who said that last part, because deep down he knew. Y/N pushed some people out of her way while she was trudging her way to Harry. Y/N is wearing her infamous white booties so when she walks you can hear her coming from all directions. When Y/N enters the room, all eyes are all on you because you own every room you’re graced in. When you finally get to Harry he’s already giving you a smirk which you gave right back.

“Oh no…. Not this again.” Couple of people behind you said that while they start packing up their gears so you guys can leave and head to your next location and that’s San Antonio.

“Hello puppet. I see that you’re in your dom headspace. I can see it in your eyes.” Harry said while he brought his hand to rub your cheeks. You give him a glare and push his hand away and you start walking back to the table which is covered by random shit- which you have to pack and clean. You hate the idea of leaving things a mess, so when you guys leave, people here won’t have to clean up all the mess you guys left behind.

You can be a bitch, but you’re not disrespectful.

After a couple of minutes has passed where you put things back in the duffle bags that you brought and wipe down the vanities and tables with Lysol. Making sure things are squeaky clean.

You feel a presence behind you, but you don’t have to wonder who because you can spot that Tobacco Vanille fragrance anywhere. You turn around and you see Harry looking down at you, his eyes burning onto yours.

“Why are you being like this?” Harry asked.

“I’m not being like anything, you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“I just didn’t like you doing that ‘little’ dance. Flaunting your hips around and toying with your nipples while you were performing, Women.” You said annoyingly. You try to turn around, but Harry grabs your hand to make you stand right in front of him.

“Are you jealous?” Harry said all knowling with that fucking grin on his damn face. You try to look over him because you don’t want to have this conversion, but he grabs your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. His green eyes are so blown out, you can hardly see any green.

“I’m not-”

“Pet. Stop it right now. Answer my question.”

“Yes. I was jealous” You mumbled hoping he’ll drop it.

“Awe, baby. That’s adorable.” He giggled.

“It’s not funny nor adorable.” You push his hands away to storm off but he still is holding onto you.

Harry looks around and you’re not sure what he wanted because this room is already packed up and no one else is here beside you too. Then you realize there's a couch in this room and before you know it Harry is trudging you along to the couch. He plops down and you’re still standing between his legs that he purposely did on purpose because he loves it when you’re between his legs. His arms are stretched out, hanging loosely on the back of the couch. He’s staring right at you. Fuck, this man right here with his red pants on, with his blue and white strip button up shirt with his red spenders on. Like you said… this outfit beats the Las Vegas show.

“What you want, baby, you want to punish me?” He said while wiggling his eyebrows, which you taught him to do. It took him a year to master it.

You cross your arms which have your boobs stand out more.

“Puppet, stop it, m’okay? Come to daddy.”

You turn your head around because you’re just annoyed with the fact he turns himself on so easily and the fans witnessed it. You’re happy and glad Harry is finally at this point in his life where he’s able to live his authentic life and he’s able to express himself in the most beautiful way, but when it comes to his horny meter, you want to be the only one to see it.

“C’mon darling, I will be a good boy for mommy. I want to be a good boy to mommy.” He said in the wine.

Fuck.

You try to ignore his neediness, but it’s so hard to because he knows how much hearing him whine will send you into an overdrive. You try to ignore your needs, but you feel his hand on your waist, trancing his name on your waist. Due to the low rise jean you’re currently wearing, his name is on display. His hands started to work his way up to your stomach which he stopped at your belly button so he could play with your belly ring.

His hands are so gentle and soft. It feels like Harry is doing figure skating motion on your stomach. It flows in the wind. You start to completely forget why you’re even mad at him. Your eyes flutter close. Everything just feels heightened.

You jolt because you feel Harry’s lips on your stomach and his hands are roaming your back and inching it way to your ass, but before he could even reach it he brings his hands back up. Harry is pampering you in kisses. It’s like his way of apologizing. Your hand finds its way to the back of his hair to tossle it up a bit. You feel so good and it feels so right.

“Mommy?” Harry whispered which broke you out of your trance. You open your eyes and you see Harry looking at you with admiration.

“Yes, baby?” You said in a gentle tone still twirling his hair in your hands.

“I’m so sorry. I went overboard on stage. I just want you to know that.” He slowly gave you a kiss on your blushy stomach which resulted in you moaning.

“It’s okay baby. I’m not mad, I’m just sad I wasn’t the one to get you turned on.” You lean down to kiss the top of his head, so he knows that you’re not angry with him.

“NO! The reason I did that was because I was thinking about you when I was singing Woman.” He rushed out his words.

You bring your hand to his chin so he could look at you, “is that true, my pretty boy?”

“Yes! I want to be a good boy. That’s all I want. Please.” He rambled and immediately started kissing your stomach over and over again. Not missing any skin.

“Fuck… you’re such a good boy to mommy. Mmmhh.” Harry starts sucking your skin. You toss your head back letting this feeling consume you.

“H. I think we need to stop. We have to leave.” Your words were so broken up.

There was a plop sound due to Harry letting go of your extra skin that was in his mouth just a second ago.

“Don’t worry about that. I told them to leave. We’ll just order an uber when they’re at their resting stop.” Harry went back to your stomach and his hands are roaming freely. You don’t want to argue with him how that’s unprofessional, but at this moment… fuck it.

“Okay baby.” You said to him. People wouldn’t think having someone making out with your stomach wouldn’t be considered sexy or whatnot but this moment is so intimate and so perfect for the both of you.

While you have Harry praising you, you couldn’t help but think what he did on stage toying with his nipples. Just that sight almost had you cuming, but you had to control yourself, but now you don’t have to.

You pushed Harry’s face away from your stomach and you could tell there was a hint of defiance in his eyes, so you had to stop it before he actually got in trouble.

“That’s not a good boy behavior. Sit back.” Harry let out an annoyance huff, but you stopped it by glaring at him. He obeyed and he moved himself back on the couch.

“Happy now?” Harry lifts his arms up so he can let it land on his thighs. He’s being a brat now.

“Bad boys don’t get treats. So if I was you, I would stop this shenanigan right now.” You glared at him. He softened his eyes.

“Good boy.”

You walked little more up to him so it would be easier for you sit on his lap facing him. You lower yourself onto him. His hands found it’s way to your waist. When you're completely on his lap you feel a nice bulge forming, you couldn’t help but to smile. You raise your eyebrows which he responded by pulling you closer to him.

“I didn’t realize how needy my superstar is.” You taunted him. You start moving your hips into a small circle which results in a moan getting stuck at the back of his throat.

“Awe, my baby is all choked up. Do you need mommy to help you?” You whispered to him leaning over to toy with his earlobe with your tongue. Slowly flicking it. Harry goes into a frenzy when you play around with his earlobes.

“I- I’m- MOMMY!”

You bite on his earlobe the way he likes it. You suck on his earlobe to bring him back and help with the sharp bite.

“Don’t worry, I got you darling.” You whispered. You change position and start licking his neck to collect the remnant of his sweat. It’s so salty, but so tasty. You start sucking him kissing and leaving wet kisses to soothe the pain. The way Harry is holding onto your waist you know when you wake up there will be bruises which you don’t mind because you love seeing the marks he left you to remember him by. You’re still swaying your hips, but it’s getting hard to do due to how Harry cemented his hands onto your waist.

You’re suctioning your mouth on his neck but you can feel his veins in your mouth due how turned on he is. You couldn't tell he’s holding himself back, which you don’t like. So you remove your mouth from his neck which resulted with him whining.

Your eyes connected with his and omg, you wished your phone wasn’t at the far end of the room because you would want to take a picture of his beautiful face.

“Don’t hold back. If you do I will walk away.” Before he could say anything your lips landed on his and shit, that kiss is wet, messy, and a lot of fucking tongue. His tongue immidently found yours and you began to suck on the tip of his tongue. He had to open his mouth more so you can have enough room to suck his tongue. The mix of yours and Harry saliva are all over you guys. You pull Harry’s hair so his head is more lean back so you could do something you guys both shared a common interest in and that is spit play.

You roughly spit in his mouth and the sound he made was so delicious. He closed his mouth to form his own spit and before you knew it, it landed on your face. All over your face. His salvia landed on your eyelids, your mouth, and your forehead.

You grab his cheeks and kiss him with so much force. The room is filled with pronographic sounds that’s both making you guys get so turned on because you guys both love hearing the sound you too make together. You remove your lips from his and you push yourself off from Harry so you can be right next to him. Before he could say anything you grab his face so he can turn to you and go back to feverishly kissing him all over.

The image of him on stage with him swaying his hips and giving his nipple attention is something that’s not leaving you anytime soon. Both of your lips separated and Harry breathing is all over the place, if you didn’t see him taking his inhaler after he got off the stage you would’ve immediately gotten up and fetched his inhaler.

“Stop teasing me.” He said groggily.

“I’m not teasing anymore, baby.” You gave him a peck on his lips. You pushed him back so his back hit the back of the cushion. You’re eyeing him up and down, trying to figure out what you want to do to him, after a couple of seconds you have an idea.

“Take off your shirt.” You said.

Harry immediately did what you asked him to do. Snapping off his suspenders and unbuttoning his blouse. His whole stomach, his butterfly, and the bird tattoos are finally on display. Before you knew it your lips were on one of his four nipples. You suck on his nipple, but make sure you pay attention to the other three. You’re twirling your tongue around while sucking it because you love it when Harry does it to you.

“Fuck baby. Omg.” Harry moaned out. His hand is at the back of your head playing with your hair. You move on to the next but instead of toying with his nipples with that one hand that isn’t be preoccupied you bring that hand to his covered bulge.

Harry landed a nice smack to your ass. You made eye contact with him. You let go of his nipple and you dribble spit over that nipple you were just sucking. He look at you like you were going to eat him alive. You gave him a smirk and went back to paying attention to his nipples. You keep palming his crotch while twirling your tongue, on his nipples. Keeping track of three nipples while you’re sucking on one is hard, but hey, whatever your pretty boy wants, he gets.

“Mommy, I’m feeling weird.” Harry whined. You immediately stopped what you were doing because the last you wanted to do is make him feel uncomfortable.

“I stop, I stop. Are you okay? What did I do? I’m sor-”

“No, everything is fine, more than fine… amazing I might add. Just, you’re sucking on my nipples and palming my dick which is so simple, but that simplicity makes me feel I might cum any minute.” Harry whispered feeling lost how such a small act of you has him feeling like he could cum, just by this.

“So I didn’t do anything wrong?” You asked Harry, making sure you’re not misinterpreting any of this.

“No, absolutely not.”

“Well…. If you want, I would like to make you cum just by doing that, if you don’t mind?”

“Yes, mommy. Do whatever you like to do with me.” Harry rambled. You let out a toothy grin how excited and new how all of this is for him.

You lean over to give him a quick peck on his lip, “good boy.” You said while giving him his last peck.

Your wet mouth went back to his nipples and your hand went back giving his cock attention. His cock is settled on his left thigh due to how hard he is. Just the image of him cuming on himself is something you were so destined to achieve.

You lap your tongue around his areola. Just the sound of it all has you feeling something running down your inner legs, you know you have to take care of it, but not right now. Not at this moment.

You tighten your grip on his cock to hopefully create a nice friction which rewards you having to listen to Harry’s moans. Harry’s hands are on your head trying to compose himself, but you knew the second he made that sound you knew he would cum any second.

You remove your mouth from his nipples and went down to the other one that was below the one you just previously sucked. You guess this nipple holds a lot of sensitivity because Harry buckled himself out and let out a horrific sound you weren’t expecting to come down. So you decided the pace you were going at, will have him cuming, pretty fucking soon.

“Baby, just like that. I’m going to cum. Can I take my cock out?” He whined. He can’t help himself to stay still due to the overload his body is feeling. This is pretty much all new to him.

You exchange positions so your mouth is next to his ear, so he knows that isn’t going to happen. “No baby, I want you to cum just the way you are. I want the world to see how filthy you are by cuming in your trousers. Be a good boy and cum for me.”

“Baby- Fuck” You start speeding your pace and you attach your lips to his to swallow every drop of his moan. After a couple of minutes of passionately kissing and letting him use your mouth as a soundproof room to let his moans and rubbing him off inside his pants, he finally came undone.

“Fuck, Fuck, Yes!” You feel something warm coming out of him. You start massaging his swollen cock to bring him down your high and for him to come back to you. You start whispering sweetnothings to his ear to help him come back.

His head fell onto your shoulder and you started soothing his hair pampering him with praises and love. Your baby boy deserves the world, and just wait and see what you have planned for him for the next couple of months.

#harry blurb #blurb #harry styles #harry styles reader insert #harry styles y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry oneshot #oneshot #writing #smut #thismaydestroyme

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simpforgojosatoru · 3 years

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LATE (One-Shot) - Gojo Satoru x Reader

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader/Gojo Satoru x OC

Rating: NC-17

Summary: You have always been punctual for work, yet, you also have a reputation for not always being on time when it comes to outings with friends, but can you really be blamed for being late all the time

You are always punctual for work, but you have also built a rather infamous reputation amongst your friends and colleagues at the academy, for being late when it comes to other things, like day outings and gatherings. Despite your often lateness, they all still love and adore you, as you are a really loving, loyal and supportive friend and girlfriend, they very quickly and easily got used to your late arrivals, and in the end, they would just tease you for being late. Even though this reputation has done you no harm, you still would like to remedy this from today; it’s a rare day-off from having to teach or to deal with curses, you and Shoko had arranged a girls’ day-out, and you will try to be on time today. However, your live-in sorcerer boyfriend has other ideas in mind.

Pacing back and forth in your shared bedroom, you check out each outfit and decide which one to wear, while keeping an eye on the time.

“Good, I still have time, maybe I will even be there a little earlier,” you thought to yourself with a smile, as you finally decided on what to wear.

Standing in your bra and underwear, just as you were about to put on your top, someone took it of your hand, and wrapped you close and tight in a reverse hug.

“Baby,” you turned around to find your superstar honourable one boyfriend looking down at you with a cheeky smile.

“Hey, baby-doll,” Satoru greeted with a smirk, and drew you in for a deep, loving kiss.

“What are you up to, Gojo?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, sensing something is up.

Ignoring your question, he complimented you with a wink instead, “You look very sexy in your underwear, baby.”

You rolled your eyes seeing Satoru purposefully evaded your question.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asked.

“I’m getting ready for my day out with Shoko,” you replied. “I want to be on time, and possibly be there earlier.”

“What’s the point? You already have a reputation amongst our friends for being late to our days out, parties and gatherings anyway, you being early and punctual today won’t make much of a difference,” Satoru stated teasingly with a playful glint in his eyes.

You slapped his shoulder playfully, “Hey! I can be on time at least once, can’t I? And I really want to start remedying this reputation that I have.”

Satoru chuckled.

“And what are you up to, Satoru?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I am up, very up,” Satoru grinned slyly, hugging you tighter and closer, especially holding your hips closer, so you could feel his hardening member against your crotch.

Your eyes widened as he just continued to look at you with slyness, love and lust in his very seducing arctic blue eyes.

“What the hell, Gojo? It’s eleven o’clock in the morning! Why are you so horny at this hour?”

Satoru whined cutely in response, “Hey, it’s not my fault! I just thought of you, and got a hard-on.”

“You saying it’s my fault now?” you asked with disbelief.

Satoru grinned smugly, “Yep, and we’ve got to take care of it now.”

You sighed and stated gently in a serious work-tone, “Baby, as much as I love you, and how much I’d love to help you, I cannot. I need to get ready now; I will make it up to you when I’m back.”

“You want me to carry a hard-on for the entire day, to which only you can take care of? Why do you have to be early or on time…?” Satoru whined.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who can take care of it, you can take care of it by yourself, too,” you responded with a cheeky grin.

You turned away to get back to preparing for your day-out, Satoru wrapped his arms around your bare waist, and thrust his rock-hard member against your bottom. “But I want us to take care of it together, baby. I promise this is the last time I will ask this of you at such hours.”

“You said this the last time,” you rolled your eyes.

Satoru whined and pulled a puppy-dog face, “Come on, baby, forgive me. I solemnly swear that this is the last time.”

Before you can say anything more, Satoru had already started walking both of you towards your bed, and soon you were in bed underneath him, he grinned down at you slyly, “You don’t have to be early or on time, Shoko can spend some time by herself in Victoria’s Secret, she’ll love it!”

You pouted up at him sadly, “But I want to go in by myself too!”

Satoru started whining again, and kept pulling the poor puppy act, “But baby!!”

Your resolve broke right then and there, the great Gojo Satoru really is your ultimate weakness, and as everyone around you two had said more than once, “Gojo Satoru is Y/N’s Achilles’ heel, and vice versa.” You gave in, but you weren’t entirely happy about your own weakness when it comes to him.

You huffed, “Fine, have it your way, do me, but I am not getting anything for your benefit while I’m out.”

Satoru grinned, and very quickly stripped out of his own clothes, but not before leaning down, breathing hotly and heavily against your ear, “My baby Y/N, no matter what things you get will always be for my benefit, LIKE-IT-OR-NOT.”

You had no time to glare before he dove back down to kiss you passionately, and you immediately responded by kissing in the same manner, and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Satoru’s hands went from cradling your neck, and started down as he explores your body, stroking all over, rubbing your waist and toned abs gently before moving up to cup your luscious breasts, and then moving down to your hips. You gasped under his ministrations, his skillful hands massaged and rubbed your creamy mounds, his fingers played and pinched your pink, tender nipples to hardness, and he moved from kissing your neck to kissing your breasts, taking your nipples into his greedy mouth, sucking hard and deep.

“Baby, you are so perfect, so fucking perfect,” Satoru moaned breathily as he worshipped your body.

You could only moan in response. Satoru looked up at you seriously with deep love and lust, your eyes weren’t shut but were glazed in lust, he held your hips tightly, and had you wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as he prepares to make love to his beloved girl.

“Y/N, look at me,” Satoru stated seriously.

You looked at him, and he looked back into your eyes with a loving smile. No words needed to come from your lips, the look in the your eyes and the smile that graced your face as you look up at him conveyed loud and clear your love for him. He positioned himself at your entrance, he leaned down and kissed you as he thrusts into you, both gasped and moaned at the sudden invasion, he started slow and gentle, you instinctively held him closer and your legs tugged his hips closer, and he grinned at your action.

“See? You want it too,” Satoru grinned smugly, as he continued his slow and gentle thrusting.

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, you are right. So will you please shut up and just fuck me already?”

Satoru grinned and his eyes turned into slits, “Yes, m’am.”

He cradled your neck gently, he moved his hips, he pulled his still rock-hard member out, though not entirely, before thrusting back in hard and deep and fast, as he began jackhammering into your pussy while the bed even squeaked and creaked. Both of you held onto each other as if for dear life, moaning as you are both merged deep in the lovemaking.

“Oh, baby…” you can’t help but moaned, completely lost in paradise.

“That’s it, baby, moan for me. I love you so fucking much!” Satoru grunted hotly.

“I…love…you…so…fucking…much…too!”

You both went at it for a further god-knows-how-long, before you both felt that you are reaching your high peaks soon.

“Baby, shit…I’m cumming,” Satoru yowled.

“Me too, baby, me too...”

Soon enough, you both screamed as you reached orgasm at the same time. It took a while for you to come down from your high; bathing in the afterglow with satisfaction, as you held on to each other.

“Hm…as amazing as that was, love, you are late,” Satoru announced with a smug grin, smacking his lips.

“What?” you asked, surprised, and turned to look at the bedside clock, which read 1pm, you’re indeed very late!

You gasped and quickly jumped out of bed, and started gathering your clothes from the floor quickly, grunting “Ugh…for fuck’s sake!”

Satoru chuckled playfully, “Exactly, love, for fuck’s sake!”

You rolled your eyes, and turned around, and threw a cushion at him. “Oi!”

Satoru just sat back against the headboard and laughed as he watched you getting ready in a frantic state.

After a while…

“I AM SO SORRY!!!”

Shoko looked up from her chocolate chip frappucino and magazine to see you running over frantically, and she rolled her eyes, “That’s okay; you will even be late for your own funeral.”

You waved it off, “Nah, that, I will be on time for, even Satoru is not that deprived.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #fem!reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo fanfic #gojou smut #jujutsu kaisen gojou #satoru x reader

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inagetawaycarxo · 3 years

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Yes Daddy | Kyle O’Reilly *NSFW*

REQUESTED BY this amazing girl! @oreillystolemyheart

Pairings: Kyle O’Reilly x F!Reader

Featuring: Kyle O’Reilly, Y/n (Reader), Adam Cole.

Summary: Kyle’s new look isn’t the only thing he has changed.

Warnings: Daddy kink, Dom!Kyle, dominant Kyle, smut, sex, oral (male receiving), blowjob (kind of), bad smut writing, 18+, nsfw, dom kink, dirty talk, hair pulling [mild], locker room sex, unprotected sex[ wrap it before you tap it], rough sex, errors I missed.

A/N: Hope you love it, babe! REQUESTS ARE OPEN! FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED!

Your eyes were glued on the monitor, as you watched the screen intensely. Ignoring other superstars around you. The ache that formed in your core at the start of the match. You pushed that dull ache away, clenching your legs together as focusing on the match…

You were on the edge of the seat. Hands clasped together in front of your mouth. Nails bitten down, as you watched Kyle jump off the top rope, his right knee connected with Adam’s back, making Adam hit the steel chair, Adam rolled onto his back, spasming. Kyle sat up. Shuffling over to Adam, by using his left arm as support. Kyle fell on Adam for the pin. The ref counted the pin. Counting to three, then pointing his index finger, signaling the bell keeper to ring the bell.

A proud smile graced your lips as you got up quickly rushing to the gorilla. Beaming with happiness. Feeling proud of Kyle for finally putting Adam in his place. Triple H chuckled

“Calm down, y/n,” He chuckled, as you bounced up and down, waiting for Kyle to come through the curtain, so you could hug him, and tell him how proud you are of him.

“Sorry,” You mumbled. Though you stopped bouncing, you still felt intense amounts of happiness for him. You were still beaming.

Kyle walked through the curtains. You quickly rushed over to him. Wrapping your arms around him, and hugging him, trying not to hug him too tightly. Kyle wrapped his arms around you burying his face into your hair.

“I’m so proud of you, baby, I love you so much,” You spoke. Rubbing your hand up and down his back softly. Kyle hugged you a bit tighter.

“Good match,” Triple H commented. Patting Kyle on the shoulder. Kyle pulled his face away from your hair. Mustering up a small smile.

You could tell Kyle wasn’t in the mood to talk or socialize. Triple H must have got the hint because he walked off. But not before squeezing Kyle’s shoulder in reassurance.

You unwrapped your arms around Kyle, grabbing his hand. Lacing your fingers with his fingers.

Guiding him to his locker room. Backstage workers smiling at Kyle and you.

Kyle looked angry and in pain.

“Are you okay?” You asked, caressing the back of his hand with your thumb.

Kyle shrugged his shoulders. As the both of you finally made it to his locker room. Kyle’s hand grabbed the door. Turning the doorknob and opening the door. Kyle entered the room.

“I just hope he doesn’t retaliate and hurt you,” Kyle spoke, as you closed the door. Kyle let go of your hand, taking the tape off his wrist. While you leaned on the door. Biting your lower lip as your minding wandering back to his ring gear. A dull ache forming in your core, clenching your thighs together.

Kyle turned his head to look at you, wondering why you haven’t responded. Kyle arched an eyebrow as he noticed you biting your lower lip. Clenching your thighs together. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. While you slightly cursed yourself silently, for not paying attention.

“Oh, um…” You stalled trying to rack your brain for a response, but nothing popped up in your mind, other than dirty thoughts about Kyle’s new ring gear swamping your mind.

Kyle gave you a boyish smirk. Turning his whole body around to face you.

“I know Adam and he will attack you; I think the better question is are you okay?” Kyle spoke. You gulped slightly. Eyes wide, as Kyle studied you. Not sure whether you should tell him or not, you choose the first option.

“I find your new ring gear a turn on okay,” You confessed. Making Kyle smirked. Eyes darkening with lust.

“Yeah,” He smirked. Walking up to you, till he had you pinned against him and the door.

“Yeah, but most importantly I’m proud of you,” You spoke breathlessly.

Your hands resting gently on his sweaty chest. Closing the distance between Kyle and you. Tilting your head to the side. Leaning up. Pressing your lips against his softly. One of Kyle’s hands grabbed the back of your neck, while the other one rested on the side of your neck. Pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. Your body pressing against his. Both of you moaning.

Kyle’s hands wandered down your body, towards your ass. Grabbing ahold of it making you let out a tiny gasp. Lips slightly parting, Kyle quickly slipped his tongue in your mouth. Fighting for dominance. Your hands trailed down to the waistband of his trunks. Fingers slipping underneath the waistband. Pushing him backwards and guiding him towards the sofa.

The back of his knees hitting the couch. Taking your fingers out of his waistband. You pushed him down onto the couch. Making Kyle look up at you with wide eyes. While you stood in front of him.

Parting his legs apart with your knees. Taking slow steps till you were standing in between his legs. Slowly kneeling in front of him.

Hands coming up to his trunks, eyes locked on his, as your fingers slipped underneath the waistband of his trunks and the boxers underneath the trunks. Gently pulling his trunks and boxers down. Freeing his growing erection. His cock sprung up. Making him suck in a breath.

Instead of grabbing his erection or pay any attention to his growing erection. Your eyes locked on his, as you trailed soft kisses up his thigh. Hands resting on his legs. His eyes darkened with lust.

Kyle got impatient, his hands grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head towards his cock. Making you let out a tiny whimper. Getting aroused.

“Suck it,” Kyle demanded. Making you take your bottom lip in-between your teeth.

One of your hands grabbed the base of his shaft, ever so delicately, eyes locked on his ss you slowly licked the base of his cock, all the way to his tip. Swirling your tongue around his tip. Making Kyle moan loudly the grip on

“Quit your teasing baby, and put your mouth around daddy’s cock,” He hissed out. Tightening his grip on your hair. Lust filled eyes staring intently at you. You smirked as you parted your lips.

Wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. Making Kyle let out a satisfied moan, while you felt yourself get wet. Your panties dampening by your arousal.

You slowly lowered your mouth down his shaft. All the while keeping eye contact with him. Kyle was having none of your teasing. He quickly thrusted into your mouth. Hitting your uvulitis making your eyes water. You let out a gag as his tip hits the back of your throat. Your hands gripped his hips for support.

“Stop teasing,” Kyle growled as his other hand grabbed your side of your face in a tight grip. You let out a small meek sound. The vibrations vibrating Kyle’s shaft, making Kyle back his hips.

Kyle loosened his hold on your hair, and the side of your face, as you slowly pulled your mouth off his hard shaft. Salvia coating his shaft, as well as coming out of your mouth. One of your hands came went down to his shaft, wrapping your hand around his shaft, moving your hand up and down, using your salvia as a lubricant.

Kyle let out a moan. You replaced your hand with your mouth. Making Kyle suck in a deep breath.

“That’s it, baby, take daddy’s cock in your mouth,” He cooed, as you started to bob your head up and down. Looking up at him through your eyelashes. Intense waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

Kyle tossed his head back. His hand other hand grabbing the side of your head, as you continued to bob your head up and down. Feeling his whole body tremble under your touch, as well as his cock.

Kyle’s head snapped in front of him. Gripping your hair tightly and yanking your hair up towards his face. Making his cock slip out of your mouth with a pop. You looked at him with wide eyes. Slightly getting more aroused.

“I want to come in your pretty pussy, not your mouth,” He growled out deeply. Making you let out a tiny whimper. Looking at him with pleading eyes. Kyle looked at you with wild eyes filled with lust. Pulling you on top of him. He quickly made work of ripping your clothes off, till you were left naked.

His lips captured yours roughly as he placed you on the couch. Hovering above you. Well more like pressing his body against yours. One of his hands grabbed his shaft. Positioning the tip of his cock with your entrance.

Kyle entered you without so much as a warning. Making you let out a gasp, while he let out a moan, as your walls tightened around him. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

Kyle pulled his lips away from your lips.

“Good you feel so good around my cock,” He moaned out.

Both of you moaning loudly. Hands holding Kyle’s back, as he thrusted into you at a fast pace.

Trailing hot searing kisses along your neck. Making you moan, as waves of pleasure rippled through your body. Toes curling. Tossing your head back, Kyle fastened his pace. Mouth open in an o shape, as he hit your g spot with every thrust, Kyle felt himself getting closer to release. You could feel yourself getting closer to release as well. Closing your eyes, as you felt a familiar sensation form in the pit of your stomach.

Kyle grabbed underneath your chin. Pulling your chin down to look at him. Not that your eyes were opened.

“I want you to look at me when you come,” Kyle demanded. Making your eyes flutter.

The tone of his voice triggering your orgasm. Your fingernails digging into his back, drawing blood. you tried your best to keep your eyes open and on Kyle, but it was so hard. You let out a loud moan eyes locked on him as you come.

This made Kyle climax. Spilling his seed inside of you. Making you let out a whimper.

Kyle collapsed on top of you. His cock softening inside of you. Making you let out a groan. He pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. While you lazily ran your fingers through his dampen hair…

#wwe x reader #kyle o'reilly x reader #nxt x reader #wwe smut

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mjfass · 3 years

Text

What’s so special about you?

Bayley/female reader

Warning: Sexual content.

Part 1/? Or maybe it’s a one shot, I don’t know.

Bayley stares at her with an indecipherable look in her face. Arms crossed, hands into fists. Legs on top of the table. Examining her, thinking how a smaller, less experienced woman could beat her in the ring. Not only that, but made her tap out.

Y/N is sitting on the table, eating a donut and laughing loudly at something that Big E said, while Seth Rollins and Liv Morgan share her laugh. Y/N notices the intense stare of Bayley’s face, but she tries to ignore it and enjoy the company of her friends. She knows Bayley is upset because she just tapped out to her, something that not too many people can say they did. Y/N looks directly at Bayley’s eyes for a moment, like asking why was she staring at her with so much intensity, but even if she tried, Y/N couldn’t maintain the staring contest with Bayley, because there was something incredibly dark in her eyes, revenge? pure hatred? She didn’t know, and she honestly didn’t want to find out. She knew Bayley used to be a good, fun, caring person, but she had changed a lot in the last year, everyone commented on how she was more aggressive and rude. Y/N just won the Royal Rumble and she used to be a Raw superstar; nonetheless, she has wanted to face The Boss ever since she met her, so in order to build up the match, Y/N was now on Smackdown every friday. Something she assumed Bayley didn’t like, because she had been nothing hostile and rude to her ever since she met her, not even talking to her.

Y/N, feeling uncomfortable with Bayley, excused herself, stood up from the table and walked directly to her dressing room to change her ring gear. While she was walking down the aisles, she couldn’t help but heard steps behind her. Hundreds of people work in the show, it's not unusual, even knowing the show had ended hours ago and there weren’t many people in the building. When she reached her dressing room and tried to open the door, a hand shut it down immediately. Y/N felt a strong hands turning her over and pushing her against the door with her name in it. Before she could protest Bayley, who was a lot taller than her, shut her up while she said “What is so special about you?” Y/N was shocked, not only because of how intimidating Bayley looked, but also because it was the first time she was actually speaking to her.

“I don’t know what you are talking about” Y/N gasped, trying to not feel scared by Bayley. But a part of her felt electrified to have such an attractive, hot woman screaming to her and having her trapped against the door.

“You came from NXT a few months ago, you win a feud against Charlotte, you proceed to win the freaking Royal Rumble, you are main eventing Mania with Sasha, and tonight you beat ME. Me. The longest reigning Smackdown Women’s Champion. The leader of this division. So, I ask again: What’s so freaking special about you?” Bayley snapped. “I mean, I can see your talent, I can see your potential, and I can see your beauty” she continued. Y/N stopped breathing for a minute. Did she just call her beautiful?

“Huh, you know? I think I just discovered what makes you so special” she said.

“The fact that I just made you tapped out in my first match against you?” Y/N replied immediately regretting her sassiness but trying to prove Bayley she was not afraid or intimidated by her.

Bayley chuckled softly, “No, the fact that I can see something in you that no one else has seen. And trust me when I say that they have tried, you have a lot of people crushing on you around here. But only I’ve seen that you are a dirty little brat who would love to have her ass smacked repeatedly and being choked until I make you come so hard you will pass out”

Y/N swallowed hard and pressed her thighs together, feeling a small palpitation, while she was getting wet just with the thought of being dominated by the woman she considered “the hottest she has ever seen”. She was shocked by her raw words, but she couldn’t resist the thought of being dominated by The Role Model herself.

“Your lack of words and pressing your thighs together tells me I was right about you. I spoke with Sasha and she swore you were a top, but I recognize a cute little sub from miles away. Especially if they are as hot as you are.” Bayley exclaimed while she slowly moved one of her hands down to Y/N hips while the other one slightly grabbed Y/N neck, she was not squeezing, her fingers were barely touching her, caressing her, feeling her pulse, knowing she was making her nervous. Y/N let out a small moan when she felt Bayley grab her and push her towards her firm body. Bayley just smiled and said “I knew I wanted you since the moment I watched you make your first entrance on Smackdown, with that new, small gear. The only thing I was thinking was that you were going to be calling me “daddy” sooner or later. Righ, Y/N?” she asked. “Yes, daddy” was all Y/N could say while Bayley grabbed her hand and got inside the locker room with her.

Bayley loudly closed the door while she turned around and stared intensely to Y/N. Like a predator to a prey. She walked slowly towards her, examining her entire body while she licked her lips. Bayley grabbed Y/N hips again and told her “You are going to do everything I say. If there’s something that makes you uncomfortable use the word ‘red’ and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. Understood?” she asked without even blinking. “Yes, daddy” Y/N eagerly replied while she could feel her panties getting wetter and wetter. “Oh, and one more thing, Y/N, scream as loudly as you want, I want everyone here to know who you belong to now” Bayley said as she removed the top from Y/N’s white gear, noticing she wasn’t wearing a bra; of course she wasn’t, she thought, this entire gear is too tiny for that. Bayley started licking her neck, from her collarbone to her ear, while she started caressing her breasts with both hands, massaging them softly, sensually, enjoying the sensation of filling her hands.Y/N left out a soft moan, her brain still trying to process what was happening. She grabbed the back of Bayley’s top, Bayley lifted her hands, letting her undress her. Quickly, Bayley got rid of her pants, and wrestling shoes, while Y/N admired the hotness and sexiness of the woman she had in front of her. After seeing her in that lacey lingerie, her hand involuntarily went to her own panties, trying to relieve the tension she was feeling. Bayley immediately grabbed her hand with so much force she felt pain. “Did I tell you you could do that?” Y/N denied with her head, she felt she couldn’t articulate words. “Later you are going to be punished for that”.

Bayley pushed Y/N into the nearest wall and started making circles in her nipples while she bit her neck and then sucked at that spot, leaving a nice red mark. She pressed her body completely towards the Royal Rumble winner and used right leg to separate Y/n thighs, leaving it there. While she worked on her nipples and breasts that were now covered in Bay’s saliva and with red spots in them, Y/N started grinding on Bayley’s leg, trying to obtain some relief for her arousal. When Bayley realized this, she pressed her leg more into Y/N’s core, at the same time she made circles with her tongue on her hard nipples. Bayley grabbed the smaller girl’s ass and helped her to ride her leg, harder and faster, she was eager to give her her first orgasm of the night. Her hips moved to a nice rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, she was feeling her panties completely soaked now. The air was filled with tension and Y/N moans that were louder and louder as she approached her orgasm. When she felt the pressure on her lower abdomen, she grabbed Bayley’s hair and she pushed her hard to her already sensitive breasts while she dropped her head to the wall and screamed “daddy” over and over.. She continued riding Bay’s leg until her orgasm ended. Bayley looked at her eyes with nothing but lust and desire as she felt the wetness on her bare leg. She smile at that.

“All of that and you still are half dressed” she said grinning. “Let’s see what else I can make you do and say when we go back to the hotel and I have you completely naked in my bed.”

“Do you want me to go back to the hotel with you?” Y/N asked with innocence.

“Of course. That’s where I have all the toys so we can have the night of our lives. And I still have to punish you; don’t forget that” she said while she dressed up, leaving Y/N absolutely breathless thinking about the night she was going to have.

#wwe #bayley #fanfiction #bayley x reader #bayley imagine #bayley fic #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #smut #my writing

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anythingandeverything1d · 4 years

Text

Ask Him

“I hate all boys. They all suck.” You let out an exasperated sigh and fell to your best friends bed. She smiled shaking her head and you and laughing softly. “I’m serious. I’m over trying to find a husband, boys are stupid.” You crossed your arms and stared at her, your lip between your teeth.

“It’s nice to see you too, yeah my classes have been great, thanks for asking.”

You sighed and sat up. “I’m sorry. How was your first day back?” You watched as she shrugged, dropping her bag to the floor and turning to face you again.

“Same as always. Syllabus week is a drag but my professors don’t seem too bad.” She took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed and grinned. “So, what’s got you all up in your feelings today?”

“Harry. He’s all over the place with his feelings, well I don’t even know what they are. One minute he's like ‘hey beautiful’ and the next he's not even answering my texts. Like what kind of game is that?”

“Well have you asked him what he's feeling or what you guys are?”

“I mean kind of...”

“And?”

“And....welll...he said that he likes where things are at. He doesn’t really know where things will go but that he's content.”

“Content?”

"Yes. Content.” You groaned. “This is what gets me though. We’ve been talking for like 3 weeks....3 WHOLE ASS WEEKS. Then today all of a sudden, he just stops opening my snapchats. He didn’t unfriend or block me. He just doesn't open mine or talk to me. BUT. HE. VIEWS. MY. STORY.” you let out a small shriek. “His snap score also continues to go up. So he clearly doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Well did you ask him?”

“Well no but-”

“(y/n). You have to give people the benefit of the doubt sometimes... try asking him what’s up.”

“Ughhh.....”

“I mean you could just forget him and move on...”

“But....but I actually like this oneee.”

“THEN ASK HIM.” You raised an eyebrow and your friend smiled. “Figure out what’s going on if you’re really that bothered by it..”

“I don’t even know why I’m asking you, I mean you've had the perfect relationship for years. You don’t even know the struggles.”

“That’s not true. Sometimes Max doesn't text me when he’s out with the guys.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “See. That’s the problem.”

“Just ask him (y/n).” She looked at you with a frown and stood up. “Or let him go. I’m sure you will live either way.”

You fell back onto the bed and looked at your phone. “Fine.” You clicked Harry’s name and typed the first rational thing that came to your head. *Hey* “There I did it.”

“What’d you ask him?” Your friend reached over, pulling the phone from your hand and laughed. “Hey?” She looked over at you with a frown. “Really?”

“Stop. Okay. It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is..”

You grabbed the phone back and walked to the door. “I’m leaving now.”

“Let me know what he says.”

“If he answers.”

“Give him a chance.”

“I am. This is more of a chance than I’ve given anyone else.”

“Oh lord.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You closed the door behind you and wandered to your car. Harry hadn’t answered and your heart was beating at an unnatural rhythm due to the nerves. You clicked on snapchat and frowned at the unopened snap sent to him before letting out a sigh and driving home. After 20 minutes in the car without a response you boldly typed another message. *We need to talk* You dropped the phone to the seat as the light in front of you turned green and waited for the buzz of his response. To your dismay, nothing happened the entire hour drive home. You sat in the car, debating what to do and ignoring your friends texts. You didn't want to tell her your heart was falling into your stomach because some stupid boy wouldn’t answer. After another minute of checking snapchat, you pulled the keys and headed for the door.

“(y/n)...”

The deep voice behind you startled you, and you spun around to find two anxious green eyes staring into yours.

“Harry.”

“Sorry...I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No..it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting you.” You bit your lip and looked at him. His hair pushed to the side, waves falling down across his face.

“I got your messages and figured it would be better to talk in person...”

“Oh...”

“Is that okay?”

You hadn’t really been planning on talking to him about these things face to face, but you nodded and walked to the door. “Of course, come on in.”

Harry followed closely behind, his scent engulfing you, sending shivers down your spine. “You look beautiful today...” You felt the pink pull to your cheeks as soon as the words fell from his mouth.

“Thanks...” You sat on the couch and he followed, his legs bumping yours as he settled next to you. Harry was watching you with a smile, his eyes tearing from one inch of your body to the next.

“You-”

“I wanted to talk about us.” you cut him off, looking to the ground and biting your lip, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

Harry nodded, “I kind of figured.”

“I can’t do whatever this is Harry.” You felt the tears threaten their way but blinked them back. “I don’t get it. One minute you’re all over me and the next you’re ignoring me. I can’t figure out if you like me, if we are dating, if we are friends with benefits or if I’m just a side chick you have sex with every now and then.”

“(y/n)...” Harry tried interrupting but you held strong and continued on.

“We have these deep conversations about life and then you ghost me for two days. I get it. okay. You’re busy writing. You’re busy being the superstar you are, but I can’t keep just being shoved to the side. I mean do you even like me? Is this some game? It’s been weeks and all I can think about is what you’re doing, who you’re talking too, and what your favorite color is. I want to get to know you. I want....I want to be with you...I don’t want to feel like this. To feel like I’m just an extra person you can talk to when you need to.”

“(y/n)” Harry had scooted even closer and you hadn’t even noticed.

“I deleted the stupid dating apps for you. I-I thought our dates had gone well, I thought there was a connection. I mean am I that wrong? Am I not good enough or-”

Harry’s lips pressed to yours, stopping your words and jumbling your thoughts. His hands cupped your cheeks, his lips slowly maneuvering around yours. He pulled away and sighed, his forehead resting on yours. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. I guess....it’s hard because like....all the relationships I’ve had...they’ve like all been so much. I also just get into writing moods and kind of disappear. It’s not you at all.” He looked at you and smiled. “You make everything so clear. You make my day a little better when I’m around you. I don’t want to see other people and honestly the idea of you seeing other guys makes me feel a little sick....” You smiled and nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “I want you. I know I need to be better, but I’m ready to move forward. I want you now and in every way possible.”

You bit your lip and grinned, butterflies flying around your stomach. “You do?”

Harry nodded and pressed a kiss to your nose. “I’m sorry I haven’t shown you that. I’ll get better, but please give me another shot. I won’t let it get away from me again.” You nodded and grinned, falling into his arms slightly. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You nodded again and he laughed, kissing you softly. “I’m going to need actual words.” His lips tugged at the corner of your mouth. “(y/n)....be my girlfriend please...”

“Okay...” you squeaked, pressing your lips harder to his and falling into his lap. His hands moved to your waist and you kissed him like it was the first and last time. You were both breathing hard when you pulled away but you smiled. “Wow, I’m glad I asked...” you mumbled with a laugh.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.” You kissed him once more and smiled. “Just happy that you’re here.”

----

okay here's a lotta fluff. Lol this has been in my drafts for AGES but I figured I would put it out there since I haven't had a lot of writing time. Hopefully that will change but for now it works! xoxo

#Harry Styles #harrystyles #Harry Syles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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cheezritsu · 4 years

Text

Taiwa 2014

Summary: It’s been a long time since Tsukishima has traveled back to his hometown, Taiwa. The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always. So why did it feel like something was missing?

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei X Reader

Word Count: 9.7K

A/N: I’m bringing what’s probably one of my favorite fics over to tumblr. crossposted on AO3 if you prefer the format. Also pain; lots of pain.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sitting in Yamaguchi’s car with the windows down, messing up the left side of Tsukishima’s (too long) hair, he recalls one of the reasons he left Miyagi.

He has resigned to not lean his arm outside, because the grey exterior has super heated to an ungodly degree, and he’s sure there’s a 1st degree burn that will be agitated the moment it slides against a volleyball court. He joked that Yamaguchi was trying to sabotage him, that maybe if they weren’t best friends he’d actually be upset.

But it’s not like Yamaguchi can block out the sun. He didn’t remember Miyagi summers being so damn brutal, especially not in June. The sun beamed down on them as if God had a laser pointer on Yamaguchi’s Acura LX, which seemed pretty harsh even if the car was old.

Sendai fades into the background, and the buildings get shorter and shorter like they’re descending stairs. Telephone wires criss cross the highways overhead, and incoming traffic gets a little congested. Yamaguchi leans back, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“It’s always like this now. Everyone’s moving out of Tokyo and coming up north and for what? So they can hike up grocery store prices?”

“That’s awfully prejudiced of you, Yamaguchi. Why would they raise prices if they don’t know how to cook?”

Yamaguchi laughs. “Tokyo boys ain’t shit.”

“Careful,” Tsukishima gives a close lipped smile. “Your country accent is slipping through.”

“Yours is all gone.”

“I never had an accent.”

Yamaguchi hums when he grips the steering wheel, jerking the car left as he changes lanes. “Sure.”

Tsukishima keeps his mouth shut, as if sealing the evidence.

The rip of motorbikes replaces the stalled car engines as his hometown becomes a highway exit. Like it’s been anything other than that.

Tsukishima reels as they start to pass familiar landmarks. He never realized it was all so close together; it seemed like trips that used to take hours were now whizzing past at the blink of an eye. It couldn’t be Yamaguchi’s featherfoot on the gas, either.

Suburbs isn't the right word to describe Taiwa. Hinata used to ride his bike uphill both ways to get to Karasuno, and all of his friends were spread out across the large expanse of undeveloped land. Animals likely outnumber the amount of residents in the town. When Kuroo used to call the team country bumpkin crows, he wasn’t exaggerating.

Tsukishima narrows his eyes, and Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers over. “What’s got you so upset? You just got here.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies, then catches Yamaguchi still trying to look at him. “If I tell you, will you keep your eyes on the road?”

“As long as you don’t tell me something that’ll make me crash the car.”

“Just don’t crash the fucking car?”

“Spit it out, Tsukki!”

He grumbles at the old nickname. “I get enough of Koganegawa calling me that, thank you.” Date Tech’s school used to feel hours away; how long would it take under the wheels of this thing?

“Everything’s just. Closer than I remember.”

“Closer?”

“The places, I mean. The town feels smaller.”

A snort. “Sure is, hot shot. I see you got acclimated to Saitama real nice.”

There’s something charming about the northern drawl of Yamaguchi’s words he knew he’d hate coming out of his own mouth. “It’s not the same.”

Yamaguchi’s chuckle tapers into a sigh. “Neither are you.”

The blocks become residential, and houses he used to know are obscured into oblivion. The people that bike by are different, the parked cars are newer, while some faces are just older in a way that settles like lead in Tsukishima’s stomach.

And then he sees it: the house with wood paneling in the front, white everywhere else. Atop the stone pillars are the plants still taller than him, even though he’s upwards of 195cm these days. White undershirts catch the summer breeze on the clothesline, billowing like flags. Cross-hatched metal gate, a new car in the driveway. Faded pink door.

Your house. With a for sale sign in the window.

Tsukishima nearly breaks his neck as Yamaguchi passes it without so much as a glance.

“Did you see that?”

“What?” Yamaguchi checks his mirrors. “Did I see what?”

The houses blend together once again. Everyone on the street carries on like Tsukishima hasn’t been shot through the chest. He slumps into his seat, listening to dogs barking and the laughter of children as everything goes accordingly.

“It’s nothing. A kid fell off his skateboard. It looked pretty awful.”

Yamaguchi hesitates, but doesn’t question it. He minds his business, even when Tsukishima’s scowl falls into something a little more melancholy than usual.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima frowned from his post at the front desk, annoyed how your presence alone could stir...things in him.

It had been a long time since he’d seen you at the museum. Perhaps that was good for his job security, but when he saw you walking up to him in a wool blazer that looks like a mirror image of the one he had on, he couldn’t help but admit he’d missed you. He didn’t know where you’d been, and he wanted to ask, but you flashed him the 460 yen entrance fee before he could speak.

“I’ll take the 4:15 personal guided tour.”

He schooled his face to keep it flat. “How many times have I told you—”

“It’s your last day, what are they going to do, fire you?”

The sarcasm was dry, and there was no twinkle in your eye. Tsukishima sighed, taking the money and putting it in the register. His replacement, a quickly scouted kid that was barely his shoulder height, tapped away on the computer next to him. “Hey, Hiroto.”

The boy was obviously younger, probably still in high school by the way his eyes widened when his senpai called for him. “Yes, Tsukishima-sama?”

You lean against the counter. “Sama?” you mouth, lips curling into that smirk he hated to love.

“Take over the front desk for me. I have a tour to do.”

Hiroto squinted in confusion, but as soon as Tsukishima slid out of the booth the kid immediately took his place. He looked so nervous and unsure, and you, still leaning over the counter, sent him a wink.

“Don’t worry kid, just make sure you turn this over.” Your fingers toyed with a plaque, tipping it over so it read Closed. Then, you cupped one hand over your mouth, whispering close to his ear.

“This guy sucks at customer service anyways, and they kept him for a whole year.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes at your loud-as-all-hell whisper, pulling your arm.

“Leave the kid alone.”

“I’m just giving him some friendly advice!”

“You’re going to give him a lot more than that if you keep with the “friendly” attitude.” Hiroto looked absolutely mortified, standing like a wooden plank at the front desk. You hummed.

“How old is he?”

Tsukishima ignored your question. You looped your arm with his. “I feel like college students keep getting smaller and smaller these days.”

“That’s because you hung out with giants.”

You walked through an ornate archway into an octagonal room filled with glass cases of samurai memorabilia. The armour room had only a few stragglers left, all of them in silent contemplation. Against the archway, an employee Tsukishima recognized gave him a long glance as you two strolled past, but Tsukishima was more preoccupied with looking at you. He would sneak glances at your reflection in the glass, concerned by the indifferent frown you sported. Maybe it was the exhibits; samurais and swords were never your thing. But there was something he couldn’t put his finger on that made him anxious.

You either didn’t notice him staring, or you didn’t care. Waltzing through the halls like you were the guide, you two stepped into the completely secluded painting wing. Sharp angled walls jutted out to create more surfaces to hang the portraits. You tilted your chin, studying them like an art critic.

“Are you going to miss working here?”

Tsukishima shrugged. “It was fine. Gave me a use for my degree.”

“You regretting college now that you’re a superstar athlete?” The words are punctuated with tiny jabs to his arm, but they lack conviction. “Kinda seems like a waste, huh?”

Tsukishima frowned. The implication that the past four years spent being in your care and watching over you were suddenly useless didn’t sit right with him. “It’s not like I didn’t like it.”

“I know,” you sighed, moving onto the next painting. “It just seems like a detour now, doesn’t it? I mean, you’re a pro-athlete.”

There was a stress on how you said “athlete” that didn’t slip past him. He realized what was so off: you weren’t imitating the goofy poses of the long dead samurai anymore. Your all black outfit, once chic, seemed like you were in mourning. The heel clicks of your loafers brought his eyes back to you, where you stood with your hands grasped behind your back, pulling your fingers tightly.

Tsukishima drew up to your side. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

You whipped your head around like you’ve been caught. “What’re you talking about?”

He snorted. “You’re a bad liar, you know. Your accent is your tell.”

“Shut,” you started to say, though it lacked a hard T and it made Tsukishima laugh. “Shut up.”

It almost feels normal between you two. Almost.

“It’s been weird, you know,” you started, voice barely a whisper. You looked like you were talking to Date Masamune’s portrait when you said “I’m back at home, and you’re not there anymore.”

He didn’t know why you were saying that. He should have kicked himself in the ass and given you some kind of reassurance, but he was frozen, mouth agape with an unasked question.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Tsukishima always thought your profile should have been on these walls. You looked regal, even with your eyes fixed on the ground and an ashamed smile. “Who woulda thought two kids from Taiwa would be all the way out here, hm?” Your chuckle is self deprecating. “And now you’re gunna be playing for a Division One team in Saitama. Fuckin’ hot shot.”

You finally turn to him, head cocked with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m glad you’re getting out, Tsukki. It’s what you wanted, right?”

He can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with this image. Sometimes, it appears to him in dreams, your smile warped and faded like an overexposed photograph. The right words are floating in the ether above him, elusive, mocking. But he is destined to say the wrong ones.

“Yes, it is.”

You looked into Masamune’s eyes once again, like you could read the brush strokes and find the answer to the universe in them. “You deserve it, you know. Miyagi never suited you.”

The irony was lost on him, as were most things in the moment. Your presence had now soured his mood, but you hooked your arms through his like nothing was wrong.

“C’mon, this is the last time I’ll ever step foot in the place again; tell me something cool.”

You didn’t say “probably.” Tsukishima dwells on this now more than ever, because his response never addressed that. “Did you know there’s an anime series based on the Date Clan?”

Your laugh; that’s what he was more focused on. The way it lit up your face, and how you said “seriously?” a little too loud for the dead silent museum. Tsukishima hasn’t been back to Sendai City museum either, because this memory is pristine, and it’s the last one he has of you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima’s family is still the same.

His mother has kept her hair short for the past fifteen years of her life, and Tsukishima might have a childlike tantrum if she’d cut it otherwise. But when Yamaguchi pulls up to his childhood home, she steps out of the house with her signature bob, sans a couple more grey hairs.

The way golden hour makes his mother look ethereal never ceases to make him smile. She gives Yamaguchi a one-armed hug as he carries Tsukishima’s luggage inside, and Yamaguchi kisses her on the cheek like a better son would.

All Tsukishima can do is stand in front of her with his hands behind his back, head dipped with a bashful smile as his mother cocks her hands on her hips. He feels sixteen again, fidgeting with his fingers when she comes closer, giving him a smile that could coax anything out of him.

“You never stop growing, do you?” She has to stand on her toes to brush back his fringe. “Even your hairs’ gotten longer.”

“Can you cut it for me? I only trust you.”

A smile. He’s suddenly even younger; twelve years old, standing in front of the house and holding up the award from the science fair. His mother is so brilliant that the sun goes away, shamed by her beauty.

“Of course, Kei. Come on, your brother’s waiting.”

Nothing’s changed in the house. Muscle memory brings him to the kitchen, where the table is set for four. Yamaguchi sheds his jacket, but Akiteru swoops behind him, snatching it from his hands.

“I’ll take that, Tadashi.” He’s as smooth and polite as ever, grinning the megawatt smile he inherited from their mother. Akiteru may be a full head shorter than Kei now, but the slap his older brother gives him still makes him lose balance.

“You done growin’ yet, you little jerk? Huh?” Akiteru has grown less doting in years gone by, much to Tsukishima’s own (disgusted) dismay. Akiteru stops, looking him up and down before that teasing grin distills into something prideful. In a flash, he is pulled into a tight hug, the pats on his back more tepid and loving. Tsukishima leans in for only a moment, and then Akiteru holds him at arms’ length.

He suspects Akiteru will say something sappy, but Yamaguchi’s jacket is thrust into his arms. “Be a good friend and put away Tadashi’s coat, will you?” He gives an infuriating wink before helping his mother in the kitchen.

Tsukishima turns, even if only to hide the sentimental smile that graces his lips. When dinner is finally ready, Tsukishima sits beside Yamaguchi, facing his mother, and suddenly he is nine years old again; Yamaguchi is over for dinner and Akiteru will no doubt embarrass him, but it’s okay because mom cooked their favorite. Time stands still and the sun doesn’t set, not for them.

It’s almost enough to make him forget. Almost.

“Did you know the (Surname) house is for sale?”

Yamaguchi blinks, but his mother doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you saw?”

“It’s the one on the way here, with the pink door. It’s hard to miss.” Tsukishima keeps eating like its normal conversation--isn’t it?--but Yamaguchi’s eyes are trying to x-ray his skull.

“It’s been up for a little while, hasn’t it Aki?”

Akiteru, who’s sixth sense is his little brother’s emotions, clears his throat. “Probably since March.”

“They’ve been wanting to get rid of that house since (Name) left.”

Hearing your name out of another person’s mouth sends a ripple through Tsukishima, like he’s been punched in the stomach. Akiteru and Yamaguchi don’t miss the way his breath hitches, how he drops his utensils to crack his knuckles.

“It’s probably too big for them anyways,” he says, returning to his meal, head bowed so he can’t see their prying eyes. “They’re getting kind of old.”

“It’s been so long since it was full, hasn’t it? Their older daughter moved out over a year ago, I think.”

His mother’s words buzz in his ears as the conversation dornes on. Akiteru steers it away from the house, asking about Tsukishima’s appointed condo in Saitama, but he only gives one word answers through the fog in his mind.

Suddenly, he is eighteen, time fast forwarding as his glasses change and his hair gets shaggier, and you, like his mother, brush it out of his vision. Yamaguchi sits on Akiteru’s left because Tsukishima scowled at the idea of you sitting next to his brother. It’s not like it even matters, because you aren’t his: everyone in the room is showering you with attention and you have to divide yourself four ways, giving them individualized smiles.

“--(Name) really broke their hearts when she left.”

“Huh?”

As it turns out, eighteen wasn’t so long ago. His mother smiles fondly at a memory. “She was a firecracker, wasn’t she? Used to walk around like she owned the place. Her older sister was always more respectful.”

“Wasn’t her older sister in a rock band?” Akiteru reminisces.

“Yeah, but which one was constantly skipping school and getting caught with boys?”

“Younger sibling privileges. They get to do whatever they want and never get punished.”

His mother laces bridges her fingers, then leans her chin down. “But everyone still loved her, didn’t they?” His mother’s eyes are far away, like she was in the same moment as her son. “I miss her.”

Tsukishima doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he has to force the words out of his throat. “Why’re you all talking like she’s dead? She just lives in...wherever the hell she got whisked off to. Who knows?”

The entire table halts, staring at him. Akiteru and Yamaguchi share another secretive glance, and Tsukishima’s forehead throbs.

“Whatever, can we just talk about something else?”

Another reason Tsukishima revered his mother: she knew how to deal with him. “Of course dear,” she says, her voice never even missing a beat. “You haven’t even told us about your last match!”

“It was televised,” he drones, but Yamaguchi gangs up on him

“It was your first time playing against the Black Jackals, though.” Despite his years of practice, Yamaguchi still has some hesitance when he changes topics. “Was it satisfying blocking Hinata’s spikes? I bet you liked shutting down Miya Atsumu.”

There’s a twitch to his lips as he gives Yamaguchi a grateful glance. The rest of dinner goes off with little conflict, and Tsukishima groans when Akiteru pulls out strawberry shortcake and the alcohol that pairs poorly with it--beer.

“I’m not drinking that.” Tsukshima means it, too, leaving his brother and Yamaguchi to their own devices. His mother cleans up easily with the extra set of hands, and while they chat over booze, he drops his things off in his old room.

It’s the same as when he left. His old books are still on the shelves, the dinosaur figures covered in a thin, disrespectful layer of dirt. His first Karasuno jersey still hangs next to his door, swinging idly when he enters.

It, like Taiwa, feels small. Perhaps it’s because his bed is still full sized, and his feet hang over the edge. His suitcase doesn’t really fit anywhere, and when he sits down at his desk, he can barely fit his knees under it. He feels like he’s in a dollhouse, or worse; a museum.

The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always.

So why did it feel like something was missing?

There’s a knock on the door he didn’t remember closing. When it opens, the light from the hallways creeps in, and Yamauchi peers inside. “Why are the lights off?”

“It wasn’t dark when I sat down.”

Yamaguchi pushes the door open with his back and when Tsukishima sees why, he lets out a snort of disbelief. “Where did you dig that up?”

The Kahlua bottle has a layer of grime on it bleach probably couldn’t cut through. It’s barely half empty, sliding across the desk into Tskishima’s waiting hands. How his friend was able to balance the bottle, a beer, and a glass of milk between his fingers was beyond him; perhaps it was the years of volleyball under his belt.

Tsukishima isn’t light handed when he pours his drink, clicking the glass with Yamaguchi’s beer and relishing it with a long sip.

“You looked like you needed it.”

“I’m fine,” he hides his lie with another sip. Yamaguchi isn’t fooled in the slightest.

“I didn’t know they’d bring it up.”

“You guys can stop using euphemisms, you know.” His amber eyes are dull when he looks over his glasses. “She’s not Beetlejuice.”

Yamaguchi laughs. “I suppose she won’t appear if we speak her name three times, but she’s frightening all the same.”

“Frightening isn’t the right word,” Tsukishima thinks, staring at how the liquor and milk swirl galaxies in his glass. Maybe if he looks hard enough he’ll find the right word to describe you, but the thought stays unfinished.

Leaning on the wall, Yamaguchi turns his head to look out the window at the last vestiges of light. “Sometimes I think I see her in the convenience store; you remember the one we used to eat at after practices in third year?” Tsukishima nods at the memory. “I’ll just be standing in line, and then out of the corner of my eye, there she is. Like a hallucination.”

Yamaguchi’s glazed eyes come back into focus, smiling sheepishly. “It’s stupid I know. It’s just,” he stares down at the floor, shifting his weight. “I know she hated Taiwa, but I thought she loved us.”

The drink has gone sour in his mouth. Tsukishima sets it down with a heavy thud, looking at Yamaguchi with a blank expression.

“I guess she didn’t.”

Yamaguchi frowns, then tilts his head back to finish his drink. “I don’t know why I thought I’d talk to you about it,” he humorlessly scoffs. “It’s been what, five years?”

“You’re the one seeing her in grocery stores. She got what she wanted; she left this place, married her rich CEO husband, and forgot about us ‘northern folk,’” Tsukishima exaggerates the accent he fought so hard not to maintain. “I’m not going down memory lane with you. Not this one.”

His tone drips with finality, and Yamaguchi pushes himself off the wall. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he says, leaving the Kahlua bottle on the desk. “But don’t act like you didn’t want her to stay, too.”

Yamaguchi leaves him alone in the dark. His footsteps pound down the staircase, and as they cease, Kei slouches into his chair, defeated. He tops off his drink, taking a miserable sip while his feet push the office chair side to side.

He spins idly, and the years unravel at the seams.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Not so suddenly, he is twenty years old. It’s not a milestone, not in Japan, not anywhere in the world, and yet, you wanted to celebrate.

The day after his birthday was a lot more memorable than the actual party. Not because he was black out drunk, but because when he came back to your apartment after getting a fabulous nights rest, he was greeted with not just you, but your three overnight guests.

“What the hell happened to them?”

It was both luck and a curse that the MSBY Black Jackals were in town for a match. The few members that knew Tsukishima had come over for his birthday party, and the morning after they were face down at your kitchen table. Instead of their usual lively antics, they were slumped with hangovers, groaning in harmony.

“You’re too loooud Tsukki!” Bokuto yelled, making Atsumu Miya hiccup.

“Bokkun, please shut the fuck up,” he whispered, that melodic Kansai dialect shriveled and dry in his throat. His presence had been most shocking, but the way he called him “the snarky middle blocker” proved that he truly did remember him.

“Language,” Hinata’s tiny voice squeaked out and you chuckled behind your hand.

“They’ve been like this all morning. apparently they can’t head back in this condition, so,” you held up a frying pan. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Yer an angel, sweetheart,” Miya said, drawing himself up from the table. “If you had any painkillers you’d be a god.”

“You better get to worshipping then,” you pointed to the cabinet. “Bottom shelf, all the way against the wall.”

“Marry me,” he joked, and Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at your laughter. There was something about how your hair was pulled back with a headband that made him want to possessively kiss your forehead, but he held himself back.

“What?” You said, and he realized you’d been staring at him too. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“There’s nothing picture worthy here. Except maybe those two.” He jabbed a thumb to the duo rolling on the floor. “Might keep it for blackmail.”

“You can’t blackmail people who don’t get embarrassed,” you reminded him, beginning to crack eggs into a bowl. Everything looked so effortless when you did it; even Miya was impressed by how you whisked together the eggs in a homogenous scramble.

“Gosh, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Basic mathematics, hold her alcohol, go five seconds during a movie without crying,” Tsukishima ticked off his fingers. “Need I continue?”

“I can’t stand you, so there’s another thing,” you bit back, and Miya laughed behind you. You hummed.

“You’ve got a pretty voice, Miya-San. Where’re you from?”

He raised an eyebrow at your compliment. “Well ain’t you sweet? I’m from Hyogo, darlin’, more specifically Kawanishi.”

The stove made that loud tick tick tick! as the flame flickers to life. It’s like that scene from Howl’s Moving Castle, and Tsukishima is enraptured at the sight of you pulling apart strips of bacon and placing them in the sizzling pan.

“Kawanishi,” you muttered, and Tsukishima knew that longing, tired voice of yours. It always broke his heart. “Is it big?”

“Not really; maybe ‘bout less than 200 thousand people.”

You scoffed. “Where I’m from, that's huge.”

The setter cocked his head. “Ain’t you from Sendai?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the last consonant. “I’m nobody from the middle of goddamn nowhere.”

“It’s not like you had to bike uphill both ways to get to school!” Hinata piped up from the table. “At least you lived closer to Karasuno than I did!”

“Ah, is that how you know this guy?” Miya jutted his chin toward the taller blonde. Their gazes met momentarily, and through Miya’s whisky brown eyes, Tsukishima saw a black hole of hunger. He looked back down to you as you drained the bacon onto a paper towel.

“Yup.” You were proud when you said it. “Tsukki and I have been together forever.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were dating.”

Tsukishima didn’t correct him, but you did. “We’re not not dating. Hell, to be honest we don’t even go that far back. We’re both from Taiwa, which isn’t really weird because it’s a huge place, even though there’s barely thirty thousand people in it.” A fond smile played on your lips, and you fixed Tsukishima with an adoring look.

“Thirty thousand people, and I lived walking distance from you. And you never even knew I existed.”

If he wanted to kiss your head before, the urge was stronger now. He licked his lips, putting the feelings aside. “What do you want me to do, apologize?”

“Hmm, no. I think I’ve harassed you enough to make up for it.”

That little smile on your lips said it all. You busied yourself with cooking once again, and Miya looked between you two like there was something tangible. If there ever was a red string of fate tied to your pinkies, it has long since been severed. But in this memory, the two of you danced around each other in the kitchen with ease, plating breakfast for five like husband and wife.

Actually, it was just four. You returned to cleaning the apartment, quite a monumental task with all the drunk volleyball players you’d had over last night. Tsukishima had dipped after everyone was either safe at home or tucked in on your couch, and daylight was not kind to the aftermath.

“This is why I didn’t ask for a party,” he said, watching as you tossed beer cans into a trash bag.

“You should be grateful she threw ya a party, string bean,” Miya said in between bites of toast. The eggs on his plate matched the blonde of his hair, and Tsukishima can never unsee this. “Even more so that it was a rager.”

“Yeah! (Name)-san has always been so nice to you.”

Tsukishima choked on his drink. “You must have gotten the memory knocked out of your head with a receive, shrimp. That woman has never been kind to me.”

“I threw you a whole party!”

“I am once again asking when I told you to do that.”

He could hear your petty insults drift away as you walked out of the living room. There was only the sounds of utensils scraping against plates until you stomped back in, holding up a box that filled your arms. It’s wrapped up perfectly, because you were always good at that; in second year of high school, every member of the volleyball team brought their Secret Santa gifts for you to wrap. You charged everyone five dollars, except for him.

When you got closer he could see the dinosaur stickers you’d placed sporadically across the surface, and Miya snorted with laughter when you unceremoniously dropped the present in Tsukishima’s lap.

“Happy birthday, asshole,” you spat, but he could see how the corners of your mouth tipped up in a suppressed smile, getting wider by the second.

“Well? Open it Tsukki!”

“Yeah, I wanna see!”

The peanut gallery beside him banged their hands on the table, and Miya groaned, clutching his forehead. “I’m begging you two to stop.”

Tsukishima let them carry on in their torture for a little while longer, liking the sight of the setter gnashing his teeth. When it became too much for even him, he opened the gift at the seams, careful not to rip the wrapping paper. It was pretty cute, and he smiled at the visual of you sitting down on your bedroom floor and strategically placing the stickers, your head bouncing to a playlist he’d shared with you.

When he lifted up one long edge, he caught a glimpse of the gift, and his breath hitched. He gazed up at you in disbelief, peeling it all back to reveal the turntable in all its glory.

Tsukishima is a pro-athlete now; he could afford music systems that cost more than a regular citizen’s car, and yet he still proudly displays this exact one in his Saitama apartment, and he always gets compliments from the girls he brings home. Above the wall, in a frame never to be touched, is the first record you ever gave him; the one he will find out momentarily was sitting under the box. But he wanted to drink in that particular moment, the moment his heart stopped completely.

The other three leaned over to get a better look at it, oohing and ahhing at the sight. Tsukishima was too busy memorizing your proud smile, your hand on your hips, and how the constriction of his heart resembled love a little too closely.

“Because you’re always lamenting you don’t have one. Just so you know, the only presents you’re ever getting from me are vinyls.”

He should have hugged you. He should have told you how much it meant to him, but he just assumed you could see it on his face. Maybe he expected too much from you.

But he did say, “Thank you, (name).” with the most sincerity he’d ever used, and you’d smiled like you knew he loved you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima knows he does not have enough money to buy a house, and isn’t even interested in buying one, but that doesn’t stop him from putting on his (second) best clothes and working through whatever the hell he’s going to say to the person who opens your (old) front door.

It’s the second dumbest thing he’s ever done. The neighborhood is bustling today, and a couple people do double takes as he strolls by with his headphones up, cap tilted low. He’s aware he kinda looks like he’s undercover in a Marvel movie, but there’s only so much he can do; height is a curse, he keeps telling people, but they never listen.

He blends in enough not to get stopped, which may be yet another curse, because then he’d have time to recollect his thoughts and ask what the fuck he thought he was doing walking to your parents house in the middle of the goddamn day like they didn’t have jobs. Had his brain finally conked out now that he was a jock for a living?

Maybe so, because the faded pink door was finally in sight. From the street he could see it clearly: a realtor’s number under the brilliant bold FOR SALE, like it’s yelling at him to leave. But his eyes drift, catching the little details of your house.

Everything in his memories has shrunk and distorted, but not this place. It’s still as clear as day: the red brick steps up to the door, lined with potted plants your mother had a talent for growing. The iron gates have rusted with time, and they stand much shorter now that he’s 195 cm. The bushes were trimmed into weird rounded shapes, both indicative of the neighborhood, and still odd in your front yard. The second story balcony had the same sheets—the same fucking ones from high school! Tsukishima had to laugh.

And then his laugh tapers off as he realizes they’re yours. Purple with little moons and cartoon bunnies on them. The sheets from Sailor Moon! Your whine is an echo in his ears.

He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets as the memories bombard him one by one, crowding his brain, making him lose his—

The front door opens, creaking like a horror movie sound effect. Tsukishima steps back, watching in terror as a figure comes into view, checking his pockets before lifting his head up and seeing a man—a fucking giant—standing right outside his house.

“Hello?” he greets cautiously, stepping closer.

Tsukishima holds in a breath. Your father has gotten old; almost all the hair on top of his head has thinned and greyed, like a samurai in a black and white movie. He’s still wearing the same uniform from the manufacturing plant he was employed at back when you were in high school, his (your) surname stitched on the pocket. He holds a lunchbox in one hand, the other curled into a defensive fist by his side. Intimidating as always.

That is until he squints, and then his eyes light up with recognition. “Tsukishima? Tsukishima Kei?”

With equal hesitation, Tsukishima walks up to the gate. Your father pushes it open, and when he walks down the steps to be on even ground with Tsukishima, he laughs at how much shorter he’s become.

“My god,” he whispers it like he’s staring at a ghost. Tsukishima feels too aware of his long legs and arms, holding them behind his back when he bows respectfully.

“(Surname)-san,” he says, and your father’s eyes twinkle. “It’s been a long time.”

“So it has. How have you been, boy? I hear you’re playing for Saitama now.”

The recognition has him reeling. It’s too much, he shouldn’t have come. His stunned silence makes your father laugh.

“No need to be modest about it! We’ve been following your progress, you know.” He sounds proud, as if he was talking to his own son. “I always brag to my coworkers that a pro-athlete used to come to my house. Three of em, really! How fortunate you’ve all been.”

“Thank you,” he says stiffly. “It’s been such a long time.”

“How is your mother?” She must be awfully lonely without you two boys in the house.”

“I’m visiting her now. She told me your house was for sale?”

Your father was never an idiot. He looks up at the for sale sign, something heavy settling on his shoulders. “Both of my daughters have moved farther away than we intended,” he sighs, although there is no particular sadness in his tone. “I’m proud of them both, really, although (Name) has less filial piety than her sister.”

“She was,” Tsukishima cannot use the word that comes to mind in front of your father. “Something.”

Your father barks out a laugh. “That’s the polite way to say she was a pain in the ass.” Tsukishima’s posture visibly relaxes. “You couldn’t tell her nothin’. Sort of a shame she’s someone’s housewife, ya know? She would have done great things.”

This time there is a wistful quality about his voice, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. “You know, you haven’t been here in a while. (Name)’s mom would love to see you. You were her favorite of all (Name)’s friends, I think.”

A paternal pat on the arm makes all thoughts of weaseling out of this fly out the window. Tsukishima ascends the steps, the top of his head brushing just underneath the archway.

“They don’t make houses for your height, I’m afraid.”

“I’m used to it.”

He wasn’t sure why he expects the inside will be any different. There’s no new furniture, the walls are all the same color, even the books your parents kept out were arranged the same way from nearly five years ago. The only difference is you’re not running down the stairs to save him from the embarrassment of talking to your parents.

“Honey?” your father’s voice calls out as they round a corner. “You’ll never believe this: there was a professional athlete just standing outside.”

You mother looks over her small glasses from where she’s sitting, her brows furrowing, then raising as she places her hand over her mouth. Much like his own mother, time has been kind to her, the only signs of aging appearing in the grey that grew from her back roots.

“Oh my-” she’s standing in front of him with an awed look, and Tsukishima remembers that you and your mom have the same face, just older. He once thought he’d get to see you this age, maybe even in a house like this. His eyes fall to the floor, because your mother looks like the future he can no longer have.

She holds his arms like she’s going to lift him, her lower lip trembling. “Look at you! So tall, still so handsome. (Name) was an idiot for never making you my son-in-law.”

It used to be embarrassment that pained him. Now it was bittersweetness filling his mouth as he thought of something to say to that. “Yeah, she was” feels a little too familiar, and not at all cognizant of his broken heart.

“Oi,’ your father warns. “Enough of that, yeah?”

“Oh,” she swats her hand in his direction, then looks back up to Tsukishima with praising eyes. “I’m kidding. Kind of.”

Tsukishima rubs his arm, giving her a strained grin. He didn’t expect your parents to reopen the wound he’s done his best to forget. Time is supposed to heal all, but you are a fever that’s never broken.

“I came by because I saw the house was for sale.”

Your mother’s face softens. “Oh, you must have so many memories here. Gosh, you haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Years” your father pipes up.

“Years. You should head up to (Name)’s room, you might find something in there.”

This simultaneously piques his interest and fills him with existential dread. “Is that alright?”

“You’re probably the last person in Taiwa that has attachments to this house besides us.”

The sobering reality of that statement makes him drag his feet up the stairs. He looks back down, and he feels like he’s staring backwards in time. Every step forward is another year, and suddenly he’s anxious like he’s entering a girl’s room for the first time.

Your presence, though missing, is overwhelming. He remembers condensation from something dripping onto the hard word floors he’s standing on now, your heart patterned socks mopping it up behind him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was still up over the horizon, late July prickling Tsukishima’s bare arms with the last vestiges of heat. Your white dress shirt was speckled with little dots of red like a blood splatter.

“You look like a homicide victim.”

“You look like you swallowed blue paint.”

Convenience store slushies were actually a terrible way to beat the heat. They condensed and made the cup soggy, meanwhile the ice in the drink melts immediately after it leaves the machine. But Tsukishima wasn’t going to say no when after ten minutes of begging, Hinata proclaimed he would buy him “his last slushie of high school.” Tsukishima had just clicked his tongue, telling the excited middle blocker, “As long as you’re paying,” so he wouldn’t see how red his ears were.

Hinata and Yamaguchi chuckled at your little back and forth, while Kageyama slurped his drink with a seriousness that didn’t suit the moment. Bathed in sunshine, you all looked like bronze statues: immortal, eternal and infallible. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, but Tsukishima still liked the analogy.

“You would think after spending like, every waking moment together these two would be nicer to each other.” Hinata hummed.

“I thought graduation might make them sentimental,” Yamaguchi sighed. His hair was long back then, decorated with multicolored clips you had strategically placed to match their uniforms. Tsukishima has told his friend once and only once that he liked this hairstyle on him the most. He doesn’t know if it’s because he has the happiest memories associated with it or not. Not that Tsukishima would ever say that.

Yamaguchi pulled his little ponytail taut. “And to think, I wanted them to get their happily ever after.” How a person could look so much like the tear drop emoji, Tsukishima would never know. Your disgusted grunt broke his thoughts.

“Ugh Yama, please,” you begged, throwing away your slushie like he’d spoiled your appetite. “Will you cut it out with this fantasy of yours?”

“What? Wouldn’t it be nice if my two friends got married?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Tsukishima deadpanned.

“I’d divorce him and steal all his money.”

“Now you’re entertaining the thought.”

Hinata jumped excitedly. “I think it’d be really cute! You guys are going to the same University right?”

Tsukishima bristled, staring at his shorter teammate with contempt. “That means nothing.”

“It means you still have time!”

Tsukishima hated the gremlins optimism, but in that moment, with the sun painting a strip of light across your already brilliant eyes, he’d had the fleeting thought that Hinata could be right.

(He can’t kid himself. It wasn’t a passing thought; it was all consuming, like a tsunami. He couldn’t sleep, because he would dream of domesticity, and your next words cemented how unrealistic this was.)

You waved your hand at Hinata. “I’m not the marrying type, Hinata-kun.”

(A complete lie, but back in 2014, he’d believed you.)

“Besides, what’s so exciting about marriage when Kageyama’s going to be a famous athlete by next year, hm? And you’re off to fucking Brazil.”

All eyes shifted to the quiet setter, still casually drinking his slushie. When he opened his mouth to speak, his mouth was comically purple.

“Marriage isn’t any less significant than being an athlete.” He’d said, sounding very much like the student counselor. Then he grimaced. “But you two would be an unholy couple.”

You broke into piercing laughter. The sound still rings in Tsukishima’s ears. “Kags, will you join me and Tsukki in an unholy matrimony?”

“You want me to get married to you two?”

“No, idiot, she wants you to officiate the wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“I-“ Tsukishima shook his head. “Good fucking question. I’m not marrying you.”

He wonders from time to time if you’d been serious back then. It didn’t make any sense when you were third years, but in retrospect, maybe, just maybe you were hinting something. That sun-made sparkle in your eyes glittered with dimension, and underneath the mirth was something Tsukishima never understood. He thought he would have more time to.

“My original point still stands,” you said, exasperated. “You’re all going off to do great things, and I’m just going to Tohoku.”

“Oi,” Tsukishima chided. “Don’t make it sound so inconsequential when I’m going there too.”

“You're literally going on a full ride with your volleyball scholarship,” you rolled your eyes. “So, no, it’s not inconsequential. It’s just not the same.”

Tsukishima will not be able to fully read you until freshman year of college, so he didn’t catch your downturned lips or how you tried to blink away welling tears. He just thought you were malfunctioning. “You’re being weird.”

“It’s not weird to miss your friends.”

“AHHH! (Name)!” Hinata jumped high enough to nearly kick you in the head. He looked at you with teary eyes and you’re astonished, even though you’ve known him for three years. “Don’t miss us! Don’t be sad!!”

“We’re not even gone yet,” Kageyama grumbles, and you grasped at your heart, confusing him.

“Kageyama...do you care about my feelings?”

“What about his response gave you that idea?”

The black haired setter clicked his tongue. “I’m just saying, we haven’t graduated yet so you don’t have anything to be sad about right now.”

“I can’t believe the Kageyama Tobio is giving me a pep talk,” you dabbed at your eyes dramatically. Kageyama flicked water onto your face, and you giggled.

“Hey!” He was relentless, so you hid behind Tsukishima who didn’t have a quick enough reaction time to be mad at you. Not that he would say anything about the way your hands touched his sides, sending a jolt down his body. His face is probably as red as a slushie.

“Kageyama, when you’re rich and famous I’m going to send all the embarrassing pictures I have to the paparazzi.”

Yamaguchi laughed at the mental image. “That would take an hour long special.”

“A two part hour long special.”

“You’re a fake friend,” Kageyama said, and you prop your head on his shoulder.

“That would imply that I don’t love you all, and that could never be true.”

You used to say such brash things so casually. Kageyama, with his congested emotions, bloomed into a furious blush. Hinata mocked him, pressing his wet hand against his heated face, much to Kageyama’s dismay. Chuckling at the freak duos antics, you shuffled into Tsukishima’s side, who simply looked on with indifference.

“You’re such a sap, (Name),” Yamaguchi notes, and you gave him a brilliant smile, more golden and beautiful than the sunset at their backs. The only thing Tsukishkma laments is that the smile wasn’t aimed at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Tsukishima walked ahead of everyone, slurping aggressively on his slushie, trying to quell the jealousy that erupted in his chest. He didn’t have the right to feel so possessive over a friendly declaration, but it still worked its way into his heart.

Suddenly you were beside him, leaning forward to catch his expression. “What’re you hiding from?”

“Who says I’m hiding.”

“Ya know, Tsukki, you shouldn’t be jealous,” Your grin is troubling and sweet, because you’re a walking contradiction. Here and gone all at once.

“Who says I’m—“

“Because I love you most of all.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The door to your room is open. Tsukishima stands at the threshold, hands stuffed in his pockets so he can’t feel them tingle as he approaches.

Already he can tell something isn’t right. The blinds are closed even though it’s the middle of the day, making slits of light like jail bars shine across the floor. The walls are completely stripped of posters and pictures, but they never stripped away the paint. The blue has faded with years gone by, and everything is a hollow shell of what it used to be.

Tsukishima steps in. It doesn’t feel like anything special, which annoys him a little. But then again, how could it feel like anything different when the room has changed so much?

It’s a storage room now. Your bed is gone, your bedside table stuck up against the wall. Your antique dresser, the one you were so proud to steal from your sister, stands alone on the far wall, no clothes sticking out. Your closet is open with suitcases crammed inside, the hangers swinging idly and the floorboards creak under his weight.

It feels colder in here. There’s no peach scented candles, no window open, no nothing. This isn’t yours. This isn’t right.

It’s blasphemous what they’ve done. Tsukishima is not an irrational, angry person, and yet he has the violent urge to take a metal baseball bat and smash everything in your room. Not your room.

Tsukishima's trembling fingertips trace over a water raised circle on your bookshelf, a scar to mark your existence. And there, on the side, where you recorded the length of your growing ivy plant, the months going down down down like a timeline until they stop. Until you’re gone with hardly a trace.

Tsukishima balls his fists. You did leave something behind. He just can’t touch it, can’t see it anywhere else but his mind's eye and he curses because no one can see how you’ve ruined his life and continue to, even in this void you’ve created in your absence.

He stops trying to control it. The memory swirls over him like a hurricane, pounding against his skull as tears well in his eyes. He falls to his knees to take a breath, then lays on the floor, in the exact spot where your bed used to be; in the middle of the room, parallel to the windows. He can almost feel the Sailor Moon sheets, closing his eyes. His panicked breathing splits into two, and like Athena from Zeus, you’ve sprung from his mind.

You’re catching your breath. The drawn curtains turn afternoon sunlight into a diffused red glow. It colors Kei’s pale skin and blonde hair a dreamy pink, and you roll onto your naked stomach, legs kicking up playfully.

Through the haze of warmth and pleasure, Kei cracks open an eye just a little bit to see you gazing at him with a sickly sweet smile. Your index finger traces his collarbone, setting fire to the skin underneath.

“What’re you doing?” He croaks, and your chuckle sends waves of pleasure to his crotch. You drag your blunt nails across his throat, and he suppresses a hiss.

“Can’t I touch you?”

“No.”

“Hmm. It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

In all the years that came after this, Kei couldn’t figure out why this happened. It felt like—still feels like—a fluke the universe handed out to him. It never happens again and you never talk about it.

This memory is his most prized possession: he keeps it under lock and key in the back of his mind because the way his palm tenderly connects to your cheek baffles him. His hand slides down, knuckles skimming your jaw in soft strokes, like he’s carving you out of clay.

“You said—“

“I know what I said.” Your hand catches his wrist, bringing his long, slender digits to your lips. You inspect the cuts and bruises, how they’re bent and mangled from blocking harsh spikes and slamming down equally powerful ones. You kiss them like you could heal them, and Tsukishima wouldn’t put it past you.

“Did I change your mind?” He has a smile that’s a little too smug. You’re ignoring his face and he feels anxious; he wants your eyes on his so you’ll melt, so he can devour you while you helplessly watch just how you’ll go down.

That never happens. Not with you. You open your mouth and give one clean suck to his index finger, and Kei inhales through his nose to control the heat pooling to his abdomen.

You kiss the pad of his finger. “I guess I had second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts?”

“You’re trying to get into Tohoku, right?”

“So are you.”

“Right. If we don’t get in—“

“Don’t jinx it, stupid.”

“—if I don’t get in, I don’t want to feel like I wasted my time.”

His brows furrow. Kei draws up on his side, catching himself with his elbow. His body is thoroughly wrecked from giving you everything, and he shivers upon seeing the damage on your neck. But he pushes aside all thoughts of pleasure and stares down at you. “What are you talking about?”

Your hands drag down his chest, trailing the curves and contours of the muscle he’s built up for three years. His shoulders have broadened out and his waist tapers into a trim V. He is chiseled marble, a statue come to life in your bedroom. If only he were as permanent.

Kei follows your gaze, reaching down to intertwine your hands. The gesture is obscene, intimate, and reverent all at one. “(Name),” he pleads, and your eyes flicker up to his.

“You really think you’re going to stay in Miyagi? You, Tsukishima Kei? With the handsome face and the brains and the brawn?” You’re joking, trying to put on a smile but your voice is thick with emotion. You can’t hide, not after what you’ve just done. “You’re going to be, I don’t know, something great, and I’ll be here, like always.”

(Tsukishima, the one on the cold floor with his eyes closed could laugh. What he wouldn’t give to be here, with you.)

The old him didn’t share that sentiment. “So, you wanted to have sex with me because you didn’t want to miss the opportunity?”

“You’re missing the point, Kei.”

“Hey now, just because we fucked doesn’t mean you can get familiar.”

You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but his fingers curl, locking you in. He pulls you closer so your bodies are flush, and lays his head next to yours.

“You act like you’re not more than capable of getting out on your own.”

“It’s easier for you,” you admit, words nothing but a whisper. “You’re so bright, Kei, so talented. I think it would be cruel if you didn’t leave.”

“God you’re so,” he‘s stuttering, trying to keep the awe from your voice. He can’t hide from you, not after what you’ve just said. “You don’t get it, do you? How you’re the only good thing about Taiwa, about fucking Miyagi.”

“Kei,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. “Kei stop.”

“This is the only time I’m going to say something nice about you, so.” He tilts your chin with the hand that’s bigger than your whole head, gentle as a lamb. “I don’t want to be like all the other Karasuno grads, living and dying here.”

“We can’t do anything about it.”

“Like hell we can’t. If either of us get out, if I get out, we’re going together.”

“Ha,” you laugh dryly. It certainly knocks him down a peg to hear you reject his proposition. “Please don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“Well, you gotta keep up your end of the bargain. Get into Tohoku and we can take it from there. It’ll be you and me.”

“This doesn’t sound like the Tsukishima I know,” you say coyly, lopsided smirk making him crazy. “What’s got you so sentimental all of a sudden?”

“It could be that there’s someone I don’t mind being sappy for, especially if they’re naked under me.”

“I’m not—“ the words are stolen from you as Kei bruises your lips with a kiss. His hands turn your cheek toward him, and he kisses you into the mattress, all while climbing on top of you. He pulls back with a satisfied smirk, your lips glistening with (his) saliva.

“You were saying?”

You shove him and he falls back against your knees. “No, you were saying.”

Kei presses his chest against yours, kissing your neck, your jaw, then your lips in a softer kiss. “We’ll get out of here together. How does that sound?”

You don’t have a hopeful face. Your eyes have closed and you sigh, like you’re looking into the future and seeing Kei’s broken promise play over and over in your head. You two were young, but even you were less optimistic than he was.

You opened your eyes, letting your face morph into a happiness Kei now realizes is tinged with melancholy. He thinks it’s beautiful, in a tragic sense. Tragedies were timeless classics, like you.

“It sounds like you should put your money where your mouth is.”

“Do I ever disappoint?”

This brings out your real smile, beaming at him like the sun and the moon and every star in the galaxy. “Never. Not to me.”

Tsukishima lays on the cold floor with his hand over his eyes, lungs threatening to pop as he tries to exhale the guilt and heartache. None of the memories of this god forsaken town and this goddamn house hold anything but guilt, nothing but a knife in his stomach; the same one he stabbed into your back the day he signed on for the Saitama Spears and left.

He used to firmly believe that if you never try at something, it can’t break your heart. He took that attitude to volleyball and wasn’t proven wrong. Tsukishima does not know if it would hurt more if he’d tried with you. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose; he simply forgot. Somewhere in the shuffle, somewhere between keeping his promise and not, it slipped from his hands like a bad block.

He tries wiping the tears from his eyes. It’s not like thinking about it matters anymore; there’s no differentiation between the memories and the reality, only the same crushing pain.

And yet, Tsukishima finds himself dissociating into the ceiling. If he stops breathing, he can hear your laughter echo off the walls. Perhaps his ghost and yours can live here forever, like they do in his mind.

It’s the only way he can keep his promise.

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princessniquane · 4 years

Text

Our Little Secret

Authors note: I love Renee so there’s no hate this is just FICTION!

Dean Ambrose/Reader

Warnings: mentions of cheating, fingering

And here is your winner and still WWE Women's Champion (Y/n),” Lillian Garcia announces as the referee gives me my belt amd raises my hand. It was a hard battle against Naomi for this championship. She is a hard worker and I love her and I couldn't be anymore proud of her.

There were a number of congratulations from both men and women superstars backstage and I appreciate it but the adrenalin is wearing off. In the corner of my eye I seen Dean and Renee walking towards me. And that has it coming back ten fold with my heart beating faster.

As they get closer I put on a tired smile. She lets go of his hand and pull me into a hug and we exchange kisses on the cheek. "That was awesome girl congrats!" She says giving me a tight smile. I don't know what that is about.

"Yea congratulations Pocahontas." Dean says interrupting me. He was using the name he gave me at the Halloween party last year when I showed up as her. I guess it kind of stuck because it doesn't annoy me anymore. Even though I punch Dolph everytime he calls me that.

He completely ignores the glare she throws his way. He puts an arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple.

"You alright?" He asks me.

I'm just stuck in place. Like. What. The. Hell. What's up with the tension with them? Its really uncomfortable.

"Um...yea I just need a hot shower. So imma just go. I’ll see you guys later." I say.

Being that close to Dean when he is smelling that good, is not a good idea when Renee is around. I mean I didnt exactly lie but I am starting to feel the aches from the match. Plus the heat between my legs is starting to ache. I quickly leave to my private locker room.

Before I grab my things for a shower there's a knock on the door. I open it to reveal Xavier for New Day.

"Um hi?”

"Hey I um...just wanted to know if you wanted to go celebrate later. You know. Since that was a big win. Keeping the championship and all." He smiles.

"Yes it was a big win. Keeping the championship and all. But I think i'll sit this one out. My body aches and I'm a bit exhausted. I just want to relax tonight ok. Thanks but maybe next time." I politely decline.

"Sure. Of course." He says sadly. I feel really bad saying no but Alicia Fox walks by and his eyes are glued to her ass. "Um well. Enjoy your relaxation amd goodnight." He adds quickly before following Foxy.

I roll my eyes and close the door and make my way to the shower. As I let the water get to the right temperature I take my hair out of the fishtail braid. I brush it out and get under the water and washing my hair.

As I begin to wash my body thoughts of a certain superstar invade my mind. I shouldn't be thinking about him, he's in a relationship for god sakes! But that never stop me before. I try to shake the thoughts of him out of my head but they keep coming back. The secret kisses, the touches, the sex. Oh god the sex!

Just thinking about those times the heat between my legs start to feel hot. Or maybe that's just the shower. I slide two fingers down between my lips. Even though I have my own locker room I bite my lip to keep from moaning.

I picture soft lips kissing up my chest and sucking on my neck. My fingers through soft dirty blonde locks pulling as he bites down harder. Opening my eyes to see ocean blues looking down softly at my (your eye color).

My fingers rub my clit slowly then goes back to my core. Slowly in and out my fingers go as I throw my head foreward against the shower wall moaning. I thought I felt a presence behind me but i was too wrapped up in my sultry daydream to notice.

I moan once again until i feel an arm wrap around my waist and the other where i'm working my fingers. I quickly open my eyes and look back but I don't stop my movements. Whether this is a daysream or not I don't want to stop. He looks at my parted lips and back to my eyes asking permission. I nod my head yes because I don't trust my voice at the moment.

Just like the other times when our lips touched it felt like fireworks. The fire, the heat in the kiss was electric. It was like fire to wood wood to fire, burning. He moves my hand and start to rub my clit fast but doesn't stop kissing me. I moan against his lips as I clutch on to his shoulders to steady myself.

"You like that baby?" He whispers. "You like it when it touch you darlin, my Pocahontas." he says as he bites my ear lope and puts our forheads together and looks in my eyes.

Despite my oncoming orgasm I try to push him off. He shakes his head as if reading my mind he pulls me tighter to his body. "Enjoy this baby. I can feel your pussy tightening around my fingers. You know you want to. Otherwise you wouldn't be so close to cumming. Now would you darlin?"

He was right. I never could resist when I'm with him. It was never like this with anybody else, just him. And right now just proves this. Damn it why does this feel so good. Fuck I'm about to burst!

"Let go baby,” he says in my ear and nibbles on it. He keeps moving his fingers inside of me during my release as I arch my back, he kisses my neck. He removes his fingers amd sucks on them as he keeps eye contact with me. He lifts an eyebrow at me as I let out an involuntary moan that comes out of my mouth.

He turns to leave but i grab his wrist stopping him. "Dean." I weakly call out to him. He turns back to me, cups my face, kiss me and leaves.

#wwe #wwe fics #dean ambrose x you #dean ambrose fic #dean ambrose x reader #dean ambrose

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🏀 Fun Times; Ryouta Kise (Sportember #015)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Fluff, Slice of Life

Word Count: 2,864

Pairing: Reader x Kise

World: Kuroko no Basket

Prompt: “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Sport: Basketball

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

Despite only being a first-year in high school, Kise was super popular as both a superstar athlete and a gorgeous model, racking up thousands of fans and followers. This fame led him to make friends in high places, befriending various celebrities and idols from all different countries, which he would often meet with during modeling trips or award ceremonies. He was only sixteen, but he was already a megastar.

And despite being his partner since his second year of middle school, you rarely joined him on these trips because fame and glamour just wasn’t the kind of life you wanted for yourself. You weren’t starstruck and meeting other celebrities just didn’t excite you because you knew, at their very core, they were still just human beings.

Kise understood this and didn’t often pressure you to join him, especially on those out of country trips, which you were thankful for. On the other side of the fence, you didn’t pressure him to indulge in your favorite things, either and, most importantly, you didn’t give him hell over the various beautiful models that he had befriended. You trusted him, just as he trusted you.

This time was a bit different, however.

Kise had just recently won an award for the best supporting actor, but he wasn’t able to attend the ceremony because he had an important basketball game that day and, while he loves being a model and actor, basketball was far more important. Because of this, one of his friends had accepted the award in his stead and they were meeting up this weekend, a small get together to celebrate.

The problem was that he really wanted you to join him, but you were hesitating because of the upcoming finals that you needed to study for.

“Please~?” Kise pouted as he plopped down into the desk in front of you, his arms folded across the back of the chair. None of the other third-years paid him any mind because they were used to his antics.

You frowned at his pleading look, trying to ignore those beautiful golden eyes of his. “I really need to study, Ryou.”

“But you’ve been doing nothing but studying! You should -”

Smack.

Kasamatsu had come up behind him, smacking the boy with his notebook that he had rolled up just for the occasion. “We’re third-years, studying is important for us. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

You chuckled, resting your hand on top of Kise’s head when he whined, your fingers tangling in his blonde locks. “He’s right, you know. Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you can slack on your studies. What are you going to do when we graduate?”

Kasamatsu huffed as he settled down in the desk beside your own. “Knowing him, he’ll probably still try to get us to help.”

“Probably.”

“I will not!” Kise’s pout deepened as he leaned into your touch, reminding you of a kitten looking for affection. “Come on, Y/Nchhi, it’ll be fun, I promise!”

“Our definitions of fun are quite different.”

“A deal, then!”

“Eh?” You blinked in surprise at the sudden serious expression he was now sporting as he stood up, his palms flat on your desk.

“Let’s make a deal! If you go with me to the party, I’ll start taking my studies more seriously. We can even go on study dates.” He grinned, blonde hair swaying as he leaned a bit closer. “What do you say?”

“I say it’s a trap,” Kasamatsu shot you a look, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s why I didn’t ask you, senpai!” Kise stuck his tongue out at the older male, causing him to roll his eyes.

“Thank god for that.”

Kise’s golden eyes met yours and he gave you that beautiful smile that you couldn’t resist, his hand finding yours. “Pretty please, Y/Ncchi? I really want you there with me. It’s just a small gathering!”

Judging from your past experiences, you knew that when he said small, it would probably be around twenty people, give or take. Still, it had been a while since you had joined him for any of his parties or trips, and you had been so stressed out as of late. You may come to regret it, but you finally caved. “Alright, I’ll go.”

“Yes!” He threw his arms around your neck, plopping down onto your lap so he could hold you closely, his face nuzzling the side of your face. “Thank you so much. I love you~”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I love you, too, ya dork.”

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

You pulled up to the large house that Kise had directed you toward, putting the car into park before turning off the engine. The blonde didn’t hesitate to leave the car, glancing back at you when you hesitated, giving you a reassuring smile. You pulled yourself from the car, eyes focused on the tall model that had just stepped out of the house, his bright red hair messy as if he had been running his hands through it. He was taller than Kise, his teal eyes shining under the porch light.

“There you are!” He pulled the younger male into a hug before his eyes landed on you, giving you a polite smile as he held his hand out. “Hello, I’m Kevin.”

You took his hand, amazed at how much bigger his hands were. “Ah, nice to meet you! I’m Y/N.” You had to catch yourself before introducing yourself as Kise’s partner because you weren’t sure if he wanted anyone to know about your relationship. A scandal could kill his career, after all, and you definitely didn’t want that.

But Kise had other ideas as he threw his arms around your neck, his cheek against yours as he smiled brightly. “They are my partner! Aren’t they gorgeous?”

Kevin laughed loudly. “They sure are, you got lucky, Kise! Now, let’s get inside before the neighbors complain again.”

‘Again?’, you wondered, glancing at the other houses. Even though it was only eight PM, most of the houses on the block were completely dark, the neighborhood quiet. It made you think of those internet guys that are famous only for partying and how much their neighbors hated them. Was this Kevin guy the same way? Oh lord, what if he was an e-boy? The thought made you cringe as you followed the blonde into the house.

Soft music was pumping throughout the house and you recognized the band as One Ok Rock, a group you had enjoyed on more than a couple of occasions. There were people in every room, but there didn’t seem to be more than ten, at least, and no one seemed to be acting too wild, though there were two identical-looking boys in the living room arguing over the chip bowl.

Kise snickered at the sight, bringing his hand to his mouth. “Those two never change.”

“Unfortunately,” Kevin sighed, waving his hand to keep following him into the kitchen where three others were standing around the island in the center of the room, chatting over red solo cups. “Guys, the guest of honor is finally here~”

“Kise!” A woman with orange-red hair jumped off her stool, throwing her arms around the blonde’s neck as she squealed happily, her curls bouncing wildly. “Congrats on winning the award!”

He returned the hug with a grin, lifting the female off her feet before setting her back down. “Thanks, Mya! I was happy to hear I had won.”

“It’s a shame you weren’t there,” she pulled away, pouting at him as her manicured hand rested upon her hip. “Everyone was so disappointed that you chose basketball over the award ceremony, especially when you had been nominated so many times!”

He sweatdropped, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mya. The game was super important, though!”

“Did you at least win?”

“Ah, well…”

“So you lost,” she deadpanned. “You chose the game over us and still lost.”

“Knock it off,” the navy-haired man rolled his eyes before gulping down the rest of his drink, shaking it toward the brunette girl beside him, who refilled it with a bottle of what you assumed to be alcohol. “He didn’t choose the game over us, he chose the game over the ceremony.”

“I can’t blame him,” the brunette chimed in with a sigh. “It was so boring. It’s the same thing every single time.”

“You guys are so ungrateful!” Mya whined, stomping her foot. “You’re lucky to even get nominated. I haven’t been nominated for anything in three years. It sucks.”

“Yet you still go, even knowing you’re not gonna win anything,” said the man, his matching navy eyes looking at her blankly. “Why even bother?”

The brunette snickered, covering it with her hand as she sent the other girl a knowing look. “Because she likes to accept it for people when they can’t make it.”

Mya’s cheeks darkened at the accusation. “T-That’s not it at all, Aiko!”

“Sure, sure.”

Kevin glanced at you before clearing his throat. “Kise, why don’t you introduce your partner, man.”

At the word partner, everyone’s eyes shot toward you, staring holes into your body and you gulped. You had never really felt insecure with yourself, happy with your appearance and personality, but being surrounded by so many beautiful people could make even the most overconfident of people feel at least a little insecure with themselves. You forced a smile, offering them a small wave. “H-Hello.” ‘Ugh, real cool, Y/N.’

Kise appeared at your side, smiling brightly as his hand slid into your own. “Guys, this is Y/N, the most beautiful, gorgeous, smart, kind person in the whole wide world!”

Aiko snorted. “Only you can sound like a ten-year-old when introducing your partner.”

“Rude!” He huffed at her, sticking his tongue out at her.

She ignored him, approaching you with a kind smile. “Hey, I’m Aiko Nomura. Nice to finally meet the person that was able to whip Kise so badly.”

“I am not whipped!”

“Su~re you’re not.”

The navy-haired boy looked over at you, taking a sip of his drink before introducing himself. “Haru Harukaze.”

You smiled at him, but it quickly died when the red-headed girl appeared in front of you, curls bouncing as she leaned toward you, eyes narrowed. You weren’t the tallest person in the world, but you still had at least a foot on her, yet she still managed to intimidate you as she stared into your eyes.

“Mya Ochaco,” she finally stated with a huff. “Let’s see how long you last.”

“Mya!” Kevin snapped, sending her a warning glare.

She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but she refrained, turning on her heel and heading for the doorway, only to pause and look back at Kise. “I’ll go get your trophy. I put it upstairs so the twin idiots wouldn’t break it.”

Kise nodded before turning his attention to you, a frown on his lips despite the smile you sent him. He could tell it was a bit forced and he worried that you were regretting your decision to come. Just as his lips parted to ask if you were okay, two arms slung around your neck, pulling you away from him.

“Oh, who is this, Kumo?”

“I don’t know, Kamu. I’ve never seen them before.”

“They’re pretty cute, don’t you think?”

“Very cute. Ne, are you single?”

“Have you ever dated twins before?” The last line was chorused between the two as they smirked at you, their salmon pink eyes shimmering with amusement at your surprised expression.

“They are not single!” Kise cried, swiping at them as if he were batting away mosquitoes. They didn’t release you until he actually smacked them on the forehead, his eyes burning with jealousy as he pulled you to his chest. “Y/Ncchi is mine, keep your hands off, you dogs!”

“Tsk, tsk, Kiro-kun. People aren’t property.” The boy on the right wagged his finger, throwing his arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Kiro-chan.” The boy on the left clicked his tongue, his arm resting behind his brother’s lower back.

“Don’t call me that!” Kise huffed, using his body to shield you from the two. “You’re both demons!”

“That’s hurtful, Kiro-kun.”

“Words can be painful, Kiro-chan.”

“Do you speak to your partner like that?”

“I bet he does. They deserve better.”

“They definitely do. We should -”

Kevin came up behind them, smacking the pink-haired twins on the back of the head. “Will you two knock it off! This is why Kise never brings them around us.”

“You’re blaming us?” They chorused. “How rude!”

Though Kise’s eyes never strayed from the twins, his fingers started to trace up and down your arm, an attempt to comfort you if you needed it. “You’re the last people I wanted Y/Ncchi to meet!” He stuck his tongue out at them, which they returned with the added effect of pulling down the skin beneath their eye.

Mya re-entered the kitchen, taking a moment to examine the scene before stepping up to Kise with the trophy in her hand. “Here ya go, Kise!”

“Thank you!” His mood lifted as he took the trophy from her, keeping one arm around you as if scared that you would be swept away from him if he released you.

The bell rang, echoing throughout the house.

“The pizza’s here!” The twins chorused, rushing toward the front door. You could hear the struggling with one another as they ran down the hall, barking at one another. A crash followed soon after and Kevin groaned, chasing after them.

“Oi, you idiots! You’re paying for whatever you break!”

After getting the pizza, everyone gathered around the kitchen table, laughing and chatting with one another as they talked about their current and upcoming jobs. You remained silent, not having anything to add to the conversation, but you enjoyed the way they interacted with one another, picking on Kise or scolding the twins for bringing up something embarrassing. The aura within the room was warm and comfortable.

When everyone had finished eating, the group moved to the living room, crowding around the television and arguing over what movie they wanted to watch. While they were distracted, Kise slid onto the couch beside you, his hand sliding into yours before bringing it to his lips.

“Are you okay?” He questioned softly. “I know they can be… kind of overwhelming when you first meet them.”

“Definitely,” you agreed with a soft chuckle, squeezing his hand. “But they all seem pretty cool.”

“Do you regret coming with me?”

“I don’t.”

His golden eyes brightened up, his lips finding your cheek. “I’m so glad!”

“Hey, watch it!”

“No, you! I was here first!”

“I was born first!”

“By less than a minute!”

“Your point? Let it go!”

“No, you let go!”

“Guys, knock it off!” Kevin barked, trying to snatch the DVD that the twins were fighting over, but it slipped away from the three of them, flying across the room and hitting a giant, light pink vase sitting against the wall. The room went silent as it teetered back and forth before finally tipping over, shattering into a million pieces. “My grandma’s vase! That thing cost me a million yen!”

“A million?” Aiko wrinkled her nose. “For that ugly thing?”

Haru didn’t glance up from the TV as he flipped through the channels. “My mom recently bought one for two mil.”

“You guys are nuts. I could never spend that much on a vase,” she shook her head.

“No, you just spend a mil and a half on a guitar,” Mya snickered from behind her hand, making the taller girl blush.

“Yeah and what of it? At least I’m not spending five thousand on one shirt. Talk about a waste of money.”

“Excuse me?” Mya scowled, standing up from the other end of the couch. “It’s vintage, easily worth more but I waited until it was on sale because I’m frugal.”

Haru scoffed. “You don’t even know what that word means.”

“I do, too!”

“What is it, then?”

“…”

Haru sent Aiko a smirk. “See, I told you.”

“S-Shut up, Haru!”

You sweatdropped as the group continued to argue, unable to process the insane amounts of money that they spent as if it were nothing. “Babe, I think your friends are crazy…”

Kise laughed, nuzzling his face into your neck. “They are, but I love them. If only Kasamatsu-senpai would come, too, then I’d have all my family in one place!”

You hummed thoughtfully, running your fingers through his blonde hair. “If he met Mya and Aiko, I’m not so sure he would be conscious for long. You know how he is.”

“True,” he pouted, leaning into your touch. “Maybe he’ll grow out of it in college?”

“Doubtful.”

Kise giggled at your lack of belief in the black-haired captain, unable to hide how happy he felt. He had wanted you to meet his friends for so long, the family he had made within the acting and modeling community and, with the exception of Mya, you seemed to get along well with them. It was all he could wish for.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

Text

Chasing Tornadoes {1/6}

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Series Warnings: poorly written medical procedural, mild delving into spirituality, language, overbearing egos, graphic descriptions of medical procedures. more warnings to be added.

A/N: Quick change to the fic, the reader is actually a Fellow not a Resident, Nurse or Physician

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

Taglist is open -comment or send an ask!

<< Previously ○ Next >>

Four hours, that's how long you’d been on your feet running from one patient's room to the next.

During your short coffee break, you had heard one of the interns say that the doctors sent in from Metro General had arrived and were making their rounds. You kept an ear open in the hopes you'd hear Christine's name, but you had no such luck. After the day you were having, a friendly face would be a welcoming sight.

Mike, the newest fellow at Grace Fields Memorial burst through the lounge doors and grabbed your half-finished coffee out of your hands and into his. In one shot, he downed all the contents in the styrofoam cup and sighed deeply -hand stretched out to you for a top-up once the cup was empty.

You shook your head and let out a sigh, grabbing the metal coffee pot from the hot plate, "How many hours are you running on?"

Mike stretched and nodded a thank you after his cup was refilled. You placed the pot back on the hob and poured yourself a fresh cup. He glanced down at his watch and counted backwards, "You've been here what? Three, four hours? That makes it close to six hours for me." He moaned something unintelligible into his cup as he chugged the bitter coffee.

You rubbed his shoulder and his body swayed with your motion as if he was a ragdoll, "It's not that bad. Remember the collapsed scaffolding incident last fall?"

Mike groaned into his cup again as he remembered what you spoke of, "Yeah, that was a disaster, but still nowhere near as intense as this. We had more on-call then too. Damned tornado hit at the worst time. Most of the senior staff were at the medical conference at the university in the next town over."

Mike rubbed his eyes and then stretched out of the couch. He placed his cup on the coffee table, dark liquid sloshing out over the rim.

"Hey, you're doing good," you reassured him as you finished your own cup of coffee. You glanced up at the wall clock and rotated your shoulder cuff to work a tense muscle. "I gotta get back out there. Any news on Doctor Weisz?"

"Uh-uh, still dead as a doornail on that front. I've met our relief team though. One of them is a right prick," Mike sucked in air through his teeth.

You bit your lip and cooed out in a teasing tone, "Aww, is Mikey not getting along with the other doctors?"

Mike frowned, "Just the one, actually."

"There's plenty of sand for all of us in this sandbox, you gotta learn to play nice sooner or later."

With a frown, he whipped his head in your direction, "That's not even a saying!"

You ignored his comment, "Who's got you all wound up anywa--"

"Code blue, ICU. Code blue, ICU," the PA system blared with a siren ringing at a lower pitch than the feminine voice coming from the speakers.

"Shit, that's one of mine," Mike darted out of the door and raced passed the crowds of doctors, patients, paramedics and family members cramping the halls.

You were about to follow after him when one of the interns you were supervising today -Arlene- jogged to your side and handed you a chart, "Jan sent me over, said she's got a walk-in. A regular of yours."

You read the name on the top of the chart, "Marcy? Shit… What’s her condition?"

The intern fumbled, too squirrely to admit she didn't have the answer to that question.

Seeing Arlene stand on jittery legs and sweat anxiously next to you made you uneasy, her stressed energies were sapping onto you and you didn't need any more stress as it was, "Arlene, head down to Trauma Two, one of my patients is down there, check his vitals and bandages. Then head over to ICU and see if Mike needs a hand."

Arlene nodded skittishly before jogging away from you, her maroon coloured scrubs melting together with the others.

After looking over Marcy’s chart briefly, you clicked your tongue. You had hoped you wouldn't be seeing her so soon after her last discharge.

You stepped into Treatment Four and pulled your mouth muscles in a forced smile as you pumped the sanitiser bottle and smeared the colourless, alcohol smelling disinfectant all over your hands.

Marcy pulled the breathing apparatus off her face, the elastic stretching around her full cheeks, "Bet you thought you wouldn't be seeing me so soon." she coughed out in a raspy voice, the grinding of her lungs sounding out prominently through each laboured breath. That wasn't a good sign.

You pretended to be looking over her chart with scalpel sharp focus as you pleasantly replied, "For my favourite patient, I'm always happy for an impromptu visit."

You tucked the chart under your shoulder and checked Marcy's vitals and body temperature. Her skin was pasty and moist, sweat causing her hair to stick to her face.

You made with some small talk to keep the mood light despite finding her fever and shivering lip alarming, "How are you feeling champ -Isn't it mid-terms soon? All those mid-night cramming sessions got the best of you huh?"

"Yeah," Marcy laughed, but that caused her to start coughing even more violently, "Mid-terms are hell."

"You still on the albuterol we prescribed?" You asked her while using the stethoscope to hear her lungs better.

Marcy nodded.

"Good, deep breath," you ordered.

After the chest examination, you looked up to regard one of the fellows in the room with you, "Get a CBP and a chest X-Ray set up. Oh and get some blood work drawn up too."

"Yes, doctor," the intern said before rushing out of the room.

"I think I caught a cold," Marcy guessed, her lip sinking into a disappointed pout.

You swivelled round to grab the fellow’s attention before she left, "Oh and uh, can we prep her for intubation just to be on the safe side."

"No!" Marcy shot up, fear in her eyes. "I've been intubated two times before. I'm not gonna go through it a third time.” When she placed her head back on the pillow, she mumbled out: “It won't make a difference anyhow."

You tried to reason with the young woman, "Marcy if it is pneumonia..."

"I know what that means," she placed the breathing mask back on her face. She was done with this conversation.

"Cancel the intubation," you told the fellow and moved on to check the swelling of Marcy's tonsils under her rounded jaw, "Don't worry, it's probably not pneumonia."

Even you didn’t believe your words. A strain in your face meant your smile was beginning to feel painful.

"Hey Marcy, new hair cut?" Arlene swiftly walked into the room and moved over to your ear so she could quietly whisper, "Uh, Y/N, you may want to head to the break-room."

You looked up at her, waiting for something more elaborative, but Arlene just scrunched her face in a weird manner.

"Alright, Marcy I'm going to leave you with Arlene here," you patted Marcy's knee under the blanket, her shivers ran up your arm.

You handed Arlene the charts and draped your stethoscope around your neck before heading down to the break-room.

Walking down the hallway, you heard the same group of EMT’s you bumped into when you arrived at the hospital a few hours ago push in a new patient whose leg’s were covered by a thin sheet. A blotch of stark red soaking at the material in the spot where a whole leg used to be, "36. Male. Right leg amputation!"

"Go to Treatment Six!" Jan ordered them as a resident pushed past you to get to the gurney.

Elroy, the hospital administrator frowned, his hand covering over his cell phone speaker, "Jan, how are all these walk-ins making it through? Set up a perimeter." He said hurriedly before disappearing into another area to bark orders at someone on the other line: "I don't care what your policy is. You get Doctor Weisz and the rest of my staff stuck on the other side of that bridge on a damn chopper and you do it now!"

Through the large glass windows of the break-room, you caught sight of Mike, hand slamming into his palm over and over again as he talked to someone in a less than civil manner. Next to him stood a taller, older and less ruffled looking man. He wore a long-coat, his slender fingers hooked around his pockets as he simply stood there and took Mike's aggressive shouts. He held himself with an air of sophistication that, you thought, made him seem pompous. You tried your best not to judge him by the highbrow he wore.

When you pushed open the door, you could hear Mike's words more clearly, "What gives you the right to waltz in here--"

The tall man smirked, "I'd hardly call performing a stellar tracheostomy a waltz."

Mike scrapped his scalp with his blunt nails, "That's what I'm talking about! You come in here, bark orders around, take over everyone else’s patients and then, on top of that, you have the audacity to challenge my expertise! This isn't Metro Gen pal, you aren't some superstar neurologist here! You're just a guy on loan."

“I believe the defining term in being a relief team is that your job is to relieve other doctors of their stressful workload and take on the cases they are not qualified to handle,” The man remarked matter-of-factly before cocking his head to the side. "Maybe if you were a resident instead of a fellow, your hospital wouldn't feel the need to call in more qualified personnel to aid with relief efforts."

Mike was turning a tomato shade of red and you had to drag him out of the break-room by his lanyard to prevent the argument from escalating.

However, before Mike was all the way out of the room, the tall man added: "Oh and it's neurosurgeon. Neurologists wouldn't know the right end of a scalpel if it hit them in the face."

"Can you believe that guy?" Mike whispered as he took several breaths through flaring nostrils.

"Don't mind him, he seems like a stick in the mud," you said. "Besides, you've been working nonstop going on--" you glanced up at the digital clock at the far side of the room. "Eight hours now. Take a walk, clear your head, then jump back into it."

Mike pressed his frame against the glass window, his chin pointed to the ceiling as he ran his hands over his face, "Feels like a never-ending nightmare. They just keep coming in and we're stretched so thin out here. Then that arrogant ass-hat came into my space and talked back at me like I was still a doe-eyed med student!"

"Arrogant huh?" You bit down on your lip as you tried to not find irony in his complaint.

"Don't give me that look," Mike whined as you held back a bubbly laugh. "I'm not arrogant. He's arrogant. There’s a difference."

"Hmm, you're just what? A walking encyclopaedia?"

"It's not my fault that I tend to know more than any Tom, Dick or Harry in any room at any given time."

“The picture of humility,” You snorted before shoving Mike, "Go walk it off."

"Yeah, yeah," he said as he dragged his feet away from you.

With one crisis averted, you made your way back into the break-room, retying your hair so any of the stray strands that got loose would be swept back.

"Y/N," you held out your hand for the tall, strange man to shake. He regarded you coolly. Not with distaste, but not with any interest either. That got on your nerves. He really was a whole other calibre of arrogant. You bet he boasted the ego of an entire planet too.

"Stephen Strange, on loan from Metro-Gen," he shook your hand lazily.

"Ahhh," you winced as soon as you recognised the name. He was the ex Christine constantly complained about. So all your assumptions had been correct.

Drats!

Stephen noticed your reaction and craned a brow high, "I take it you're familiar with my reputation?"

You pressed your lips together, "Oh, I am. Just maybe, not the reputation you're most known for."

Stephen's eyes darted about as he tried to connect the dots, "I don't follow..."

"I was Christine Palmer's roommate in college," you revealed.

"Ah, the hippie…" he said with distaste.

"I prefer the term non-denominational spiritualist if you insist on assigning titles," you said firmly. “But yes, the very same.”

Stephen couldn't tell if you were being serious or snarky, and honestly, neither could you, but the look on his face was worth it.

Before he could say anything else, the PA system called out: "Doctor Strange to the OR. Doctor Strange to the OR."

At the drop of a hat, Stephen was out of the break-room and striding down the hallway in a speedy gait. Seeing as how Marcy's tests hadn't come back yet, you decided to follow after him to prevent your idle mind from wondering.

The EEG's readings were all over the place. The usual rhythmic beeping of the machines were too quick, irregular. You watched from the theatre while Stephen was being dressed up in his surgical suit by the other attendings.

"What have we got?" He asked through his mask.

The attending sped him through the details, "Patient showed signs of cerebral oedema. Swelling near the hippocampus area. We administered manadol for pain and increased her dopamine drip but there was no change. We prepped her for surgery as soon as we were told we had a neurosurgeon on sight."

Mike walked in, fully prepped and determined.

Stephen turned to Mike, eyes narrowing in distaste, "I don't remember giving you an invite to my OR." The latex blue gloves smacked against his palms before he asked the room, "Where's the resident I was working with?"

Mike wheeled the tray of instruments closer to the operating table, "She clocked out. Did her twelve hours. I'm filing in."

"Fantastic," Stephen retorted laconically before positioning himself in front of the patient's shaved head. "Bet you're glad you had a neurosurgeon on loan after all?"

Mike's jaw tensed as he turned to give you a knowing look and you exhaled in exasperation for him.

The beeping and sound of metal instruments being dropped into the emesis basin was nearly muted by the classical music playing through the speakers. With hot, bright lights surrounding him, Stephen did his best to reduce the pressure around the swollen areas of the patient’s brain.

“What’s your policy on switching up that Bach to some Chuck Berry?” he asked in a breezy manner even though he was in the middle of a very delicate and arduous procedure. Some of the attendings laughed low at his odd question.

Mike sighed, “Unconventional, but then again no one’s ever made a music request during intra cranial surgery.”

Stephen chuckled, “There’s a first time for everything.”

The respirator whined while everyone in the operating room held themselves so stiffly that you almost thought them to be store mannequins.

"Swelling is alarmingly pronounced. I'm surprised she hasn't herniated," Stephen tossed his instruments into a clean emesis basin and the camera's placed close to the brain projected the fleshy pink image onto a TV screen next to Mike.

"Can I have some suction," Stephen instructed Mike. "Right here and here. More."

The patient's BP began to rise and Stephen quickly said, "I'll cauterise this before we go deeper."

Mike's eyes went large with worry as the patient's BP continued to rise. He tried to protest but was cut short, “We’ve gotta stabilise before—“

“If I want your opinion, I’ll ask… fellow,” Stephen silenced him and focused on his work.

During the whole ordeal, Stephen's hands stayed remarkably steady. You’d be lying if you didn’t see some merit to his unpleasant behaviour. He’d earned his right to be arrogant and rude, most people were simply raised that way. And even though that side of his personality didn’t sit well with you, you couldn’t deny that his skill was unparalleled to any you’d ever seen before. You worried that you’d soon find another reason to think him admirable.

After the surgery, you and Mike took solace in an empty corridor, wiping sweat off your brows with a relieved groan. You had been so on edge, you hadn't realised how accelerated your heart-rate was until you were in a quiet setting.

"I knew I should have specialised in pathology," Mike joked as he held his knees.

"I need a sedative," you sighed.

Mike laughed forcefully.

Right then, Stephen walked around the corner with a pep in his step, "Self-medicating while on duty, I know a particular doctor who would give me quite the tongue lashing in ethics if she heard me make that joke."

Mike straightened up, his pride set aside for a bear moment, "Listen, we got off on the wrong foot. I'm not averse to setting aside my differences and my opinions of you -no matter how low they are- to admit that you were right… earlier. I'm sorry I pulled rank."

"I usually am," Stephen replied nonchalantly.

"What I'm trying to say is… thank you," Mike held out his hand in a show of good faith.

Stephen looked down at it and wiggled his bloody, gloved digits at him, "Wouldn't want to bloody your hands." His words sounded more mocking than sincere.

You narrowed your eyes at Stephen and he simply winked back at you. Mike’s ears started turning pink.

"My work here is done, she's your patient again," Stephen informed him. "Make sure to keep her stable. I don't want to have to get called back into OR over your incompetence." Having had the last word, he walked away, leaving you and Mike dumbfounded.

"Lord give me strength not to strangle him with his stethoscope!" Mike looked up at the ceiling with his palms pressed together in mock prayer.

“If you don’t, I just might,” You shook your head and kneed Mike’s thigh, "Come on, coffee is on me."

"We work in a hospital, there's no such thing as coffee. Never mind that, the coffee’s free!"

You tittered with no humour, dragging Mike by his lanyard, "Fine, then let me buy you a free cup of whatever stands-in for real coffee in this hospital."

Arlene had found you with your mouth full of a blueberry scone you had bought from a vending machine in the lounge. She handed you Marcy's test results with a downcast face.

"Dammit," you barely managed to enunciate the whole word accurately from all the dry pastry stuffed in your cheeks. You pointed to a sealed bottle of water and Arlene unscrewed the cap and handed the metallic bottle to you. After a few swigs, you concentrated on analysing the test results.

Disgruntled, you walked over to the computers in the lab to have a glance at Marcy’s medical file. There was no logical reason for doing this, you just didn’t have the heart to face Marcy just yet and you thought slaving away over computer files was a better alternative.

Out of your peripheral, a pair of slender, long fingers grabbed Marcy's clipboard off the desk. You didn’t need to turn to see who it was, you knew it was Stephen from the sight of his hands.

He mouthed out the important factoids like he was reading over a shopping list, "Cystic fibrosis. Contracted pneumonia. Hasn't been intubated?" his pitch went high as he craned his head to the side to gawk at you. "I don't think I need to tell you why intubation is paramount in these cases."

"No you don't," you said sharply, ignoring his searching gaze.

"Then why hasn't the patient been intubated?"

"Her name is Marcy and she refused."

Stephen was in a snit, “Is Marcy the name of a new gospel all of a sudden? What does it matter what her name is?”

You fingers rubbed at your eyes under your glasses, “A person’s name matters. Hers is Marcy and she refused.” You repeated yourself.

He rolled his eyes in frustration, "I wouldn’t care if it was Cher in there who refused to be intubated. You don’t take ‘No’ for an answer in these cases! It's your duty to inform the patient of what the best decision for their well being is. And then you're supposed to help them make that decision, despite what they do or don't want."

“I see your stint at Metro Gen taught you nothing, huh?”

“There was never any stint. I was just doing my job. As you should be.”

You took off your reading glasses, the bluish haze that once filtered your vision was taken away with them. "Marcy is entitled to her choice. She's been robbed of so much else in her life, she deserves that much."

"How old is this patient anyway? 20, 22?" He asked.

You nodded, "Just about."

"Right, so you're telling me you were capable of making such important, life-altering decisions at that age?"

You tucked your glasses into your pocket and stood from the chair, "It doesn't matter how I feel about this decision. It's hers. She's made it."

The pads of Stephen’s fingers dug at his forehead to ease the throbbing. With that simple action, you felt the need to explain Marcy's situation further.

"Look, I met Marcy when I was still an intern. She's been in and out of here for years. She's been on the waiting list for half that time. All her life, she’s been waiting for a miracle -we all have- but it just hasn't come… Waiting that long, fighting that long, it can wear down even the strongest resolves. Not that you'd know what that's like. I’m assuming you make it a habit not to know your patient’s names."

“I’m not paid by the hour to be nice and to memorise names. I don’t prioritize relying on hopes and prayers to save someone. I save them with my skills. Science saves them. There’s no reason for me to do more than is needed of me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with leaving a bit of room in your life for faith, Doctor. So far, science hasn’t been enough to get Marcy a viable donor. Unless you’re about to tell me you’ve got a compatible lung you aren’t using, since I’m pretty sure your cardio-vascular system isn’t in use either.”

He leaned in closer to whisper coldly, "You know you'll be forced to put her on a ventilator, though, I suspect, when that time comes, you'll have missed your window to make a difference. Unless you’re about to tell me you can heal the dying by praying the sickness away."

He smacked the back of the medical clipboard on the desk and you jumped, a soft gasp fluttering out of your mouth.

You fisted your hair and shut your eyes for a moment, the sound of Stephen's footsteps receding into nothingness.

You rapped your knuckles on Marcy's door out of politeness. She was half asleep when you sat down next to her.

Marcy removed her breathing mask, her breaths even more strained than before, "H-hey..."

"How are you feeling?" You checked her forehead, but you knew nothing had changed in her state. Maybe you simply wanted to be physically close to her, to let your strength flow through her.

"Like I could win a marathon," she joked. After a beat of silence, she said the words you’d been dreading to say in your stead, "It's bad, isn't it."

"You've got pneumonia," you said with a glum countenance.

"It's okay, we all knew it was a fifty-fifty shot, right," she struggled to whisper out her words.

You squeezed your jaw with your free hand, "Look, Marcy… I'm not promising things will change. And after a day like today, there probably doesn't seem like much reason to want to stick around and keep fighting the good fight, but… you gotta have faith kiddo."

Marcy chuckled, "Faith? Isn't science your religion?"

"A person can believe in more than one thing and I’m confident things will turn around. I feel it in my bones." you tucked Marcy's hair away from her face. "I've watched you fight CF far longer than I've been wearing this maroon monstrosity."

You both laughed.

You took her hand and looked her in the eye, "If I believe in anything, it's that you can beat this… but only if you consent to be intubated."

Marcy mulled over your words, conflict tightening her facial muscles. After a constricted breath that made you shudder, she replied: "Okay."

You felt a presence behind your shoulder, but you were too overwhelmed by the joy of hearing Marcy consent that you didn't bother turning around.

You all but flopped onto Jan's desk after punching out.

"Long day?" she deadpanned while her fingers clacked away at the keyboard.

You simply groaned in response.

"Here you go," Jan placed your bag over the counter and you groaned again, head still resting on your folded arms. She huffed before continuing: "A guy named Teddy kept sending you messages. He says he enjoyed your time together and he would like to see you again. He also invited you out for drinks but I took the liberty of cancelling for you.”

You groaned even louder.

“On a less depressing note, I took the liberty of calling your favourite Greek place and telling Mr Elio- Eliptopo- Eliopto..."

"Eliopoulos," you corrected her, lifting your chin onto your arms. “I keep telling you, there’s no T.”

"Yeah, that guy. He'll have your regular all packed and ready to go. You just gotta swing over on the way back."

"I don't suppose you got me an Uber too?"

Jan smiled warmly before pulling her lips into a half-moon, "Unfortunately not, hon. But… I did get a call back from my neighbour, Ed -the guy who’s selling his Prius. He’s willing to lower the asking price after I buttered him up with some cornbread."

“How?” You blinked excitedly.

“Everybody loves my cornbread. Except you… you weird creature.”

"Jan, Jan, Jan, Jan..." you stroked her arm appreciatively. "Tell me why we aren't married again?"

She wiggled her ring finger, "I mean we could, but I don't know how my husband of thirteen years would take that."

"We could share?" you jabbed.

"Because that always works out," Jan chortled. "Get some rest, you look worse off than the people in the morgue."

"Ouch," you snapped your fingers. "Stay those claws."

Interrupting your moment, Stephen rushed out of the swinging doors with a tablet in his hand, he called after you with one arm raised in the air, "Hey Y/N, glad I caught you."

You looped your earrings back into your piercing holes, "If you're about to ask me to go back in--"

"I'm not here to boss you around, I promise," He held up his hands to calm you, Jan scooted closer with her desk chair to listen in better.

You popped your neck by accident as you tried to undo a knot in your back muscles, "Then?"

"A patient in Trauma Two didn't make it. He was a registered organ donor… and a match with your CF patient."

Light sparked in your eyes as water began to fill in your tear ducts, "Marcy got a match?"

Stephen nodded, "We put the donor on ice and we're waiting to prep Marcy for a transplant once all the legal red tape has been cut. I just thought you'd like to know."

A laugh rippled out from your chest as you flung your arms around Stephen's body. It was an awkward and ill-thought-out thing to do, but it had already happened. You could tell how uncomfortable Stephen was from how stiff his lean frame felt wrapped under your arms, he didn’t even try to hug you back. You pulled away and straightened your clothes as you cleared your throat.

"Sorry, that was unprofessional," you bit your bottom lip. "It's just… Marcy's been on the waiting list for so long, I- I… Thank you. I really needed some good news after the day we've had."

"It's a good thing you had faith in her, then," Stephen tucked his arms around his chest and hummed curtly. You could tell he wasn't comfortable with evoking faith into his conversational vocabulary. "I've got to get back in there before everything plummets into chaos. I'll see you tomorrow."

“Yeah, sure.” You stared at nothing in particular for a long pause.

Jan peeked over her computer screen monitor to watch Stephen stride away, "Hmm, if I wasn't happily married to some good dick..."

That brought you back down to earth.

You scrunched your face and tossed a pen at Jan, "Down girl."

Thunder and lightning had abated, leaving the dark sky peaceful and starless. The climb up the steps felt harrowing for your sore feet, but you kept going because sleeping on the step wasn't an option and Spike needed feeding.

"Honey, I'm home!" you called out for Spike while trying to jimmy the keys out of the keyhole. After a few tries, it came loose, but not before your knuckles slammed into your nose. "Ouch!"

You felt the urge to sneeze, to your chagrin, it wouldn't come. With a rustled of brown paper bags, you set your take-out onto the table and grabbed a plate and glass from the cupboard to dish out. Next, you rinsed Spike's bowl and scraped in some cut-up browning banana you had left out for too long and a few leaves of spinach and half a stalk of broccoli.

You carried both your plates to the living room and turned on the CD player. An old audio-book Mike had burned onto a CD for you had resumed from the last scene you'd listened to.

"Spike, you big fat lizard, get in here, you're missing it!" you called out for the large reptile. Through the chiming of bamboo sticks, you could just about make out his trademark growl sounding out from behind your vine infested arbour on your balcony.

You sighed, placed your plate on the coffee table and walked around your couch to pick Spike up, making sure to close the sliding door to your balcony shut. You set Spike down next to his bowl and continued idly munching on your yoghurt heavy meal while listening absentmindedly to the story unfolding over the CD player.

Before Spike finished half of his plate, you had passed out on the couch.

To be continued...

Tags: @raindancer2004

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange imagine #marvel #avengers #medical drama #medical fic #doctor strange imagine

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itsreigns · 5 years

Text

Fucked Up

Roman fucked up his friendship with (Y/N). Well, he fucked up everything. Will he realize what he’s missing in time? Will he able to undo his mistakes?

(A/N): So this wasn’t a request, just something I came up with with @heeldeano after seeing this gif.

Tags:

Two months. Two long months after that disastrous day.

Roman was your best friend. Yes, was. Not anymore. For months and months, you debated on whether you wanted to act on your feelings or not. Eventually, you decided that he was worth the shot, that you owned it to yourself, or else you’d be forever followed by those “what if” thoughts, completely haunted by not trying.

You tried to give him some hints. You tried to tease him, in hopes he’d wake up and realize he loved you. You tried to ask him out… on an actual date, but he never gave in. He always played dumb, dismissing your advances. So, you just gave up.

The last drop happened two months ago. You and Roman were talking, mostly flirting as you usually did, and suddenly… he leans in slightly. Your brain froze. Your heart thudding madly in your chest.

Only to have him pulling back abruptly.

“What the fuck am I doing?” He said, running his hand down his face as he let out a somewhat sarcastic chuckle. You were about to say something, but he cut you off, leaving without another word.

No explanation. No apology. Nothing. You were hurt. Shattered.

Yet you were still surprised when he never reached out to you after that. You always thought, well… you wished, that he would… after all you were best friends. But he never did. Apparently you didn’t mean that much to him. So much for his friendship too…

So you didn’t reach out either. You had your pride and dignity, and you definitely weren’t in the wrong in this.

Since that day, you’ve been dragging yourself around, feeling like shit, and pretty much avoiding everything Roman-related. But today, Becky wasn’t having it.

“No, no, no, (Y/N)! No more moping around for Samoan major douchebag. Enough!” She snaps, pulling you up from your bed, making you stand. “Tonight we are going out and have fun, so you better get your ass on that shower and get slaying quickly!”

You sigh deeply, realizing that she was right. Screw him. You deserve more than to be dragging yourself over someone who doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t value so someone else will.

Hopping in the shower, you give yourself some mental prep talk. Then, you pick up a black lace body, pairing it with some tight high-waist jeans and high heels. You put some light make-up, having some trouble deciding what to do with the hair.

“Wow. You def be slaying, girl.” Becky catcalls once she comes back into the room.

“Thanks Becks.” You smile softly. “Hey, what do I do with the hair?”

“Eh… I don’t know? Maybe straighten it out?”

And that’s exactly what you did. When you’re finished, you take a full glance of yourself in the mirror. Becky appears behind you smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. I feel much better already.” You grin, as she hugs you from behind.

“You’re welcome.” She winks. “Now let’s go!”

Apparently, you’re headed to some club downtown. Some other superstars are also going, so it’s going to be a good, relaxing time. You’re just wishing Roman isn’t there.

But that thought is quickly worthless, because as soon as you get inside, you see him sitting in a corner with Dean, Seth and Braun.

His gaze finds yours faster than it should. You swallow hard, moving your gaze to the floor. Thankfully, Sonya and Naomi reach you, pulling you in for a hug, then complimenting your outfit. You know they’re being nice and trying to cheer you up and hype you, but you’re still very thankful for them.

A couple of drinks in, you’re laughing and feeling a bit more loose. You’re still feeling some type of tension in the air, even though he hasn’t moved from his spot. But you shrug it off.

Suddenly, Finn sits down next to you, smiling brightly as he always does. He has a beautiful smile, you think, as you smile back at him.

He tucks your hair behind your ear and leans in close. The club was super loud so he had to speak directly into it, but deep down, you knew he was flirting too.

You feel his hot breath against your ear, “You look beautiful tonight.”

You smile shyly, blushing a bit. “Thank you. You look good too.”

The flirting went on back and forth for a while, many laughs and slight touches. Until he invited you to dance. He just got up and extended his hand to you. You glanced at his hand, a smile creeping up on your face, as you accepted and linked your hands.

You just didn’t noticed Roman watching the whole thing in the back.

----

Roman’s P.O.V.

“Bro, you’re staring and it’s getting awkward.” Seth states, himself staring at me, trying to read me.

“I’m not.” I grumble.

“Yes, you are.” Dean and Seth shoot back at the same time, making me scoff.

“I am not. I’m just… looking around.” I stutter, making myself get even more pissed off.

“Yeah, around.” Seth mocks, waving his hand in the air. “Look, it’s bothering you, I get it. What I don’t get is what you’re doing still sitting in that chair, torturing yourself, when you clearly love her.”

Seth’s words hit me like a ton of bricks, but I take a deep breath, shrugging it off.

“It’s all good. I’m cool.” I lie through my teeth, flexing my jaw.

“You’re not cool. You’re trying to keep your cool and you’re doing an awful job, let me tell you.” Seth shoots, with Dean nodding in support as he takes another sip of his drink.

I take another glance at her, before hanging my head low, resting my elbows on the table as I massage my temples.

“You’re fucking stubborn, man.” Dean adds.

If only I could bring myself to talk to her during these two months… but I’m too goddamn proud and stubborn to do so.

I have to admit… knowing I could have her, knowing I could be with her… And now seeing her moving on, seeing his hands where mine should’ve been… it’s killing me.

---------

Normal P.O.V.

Finally tired of dancing, Finn goes sit down as you head to the counter for some drinks. Suddenly, you feel a tall presence behind you.

Turning around, you get face to face with Roman, who’s staring at you, his eyes holding sadness and anger. Your eyes locked with his, but he just stands there, mouth shut.

You start to feel anger boiling up inside of you, so you just decide to ignore him, turning your back at him.

He sighs deeply, hanging his head low, but you don’t see or hear it. He just comes up behind you and puts his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

You feel his breath ghosting over your neck, moving up until it stops on your ear. Then, he just whispers, “You’re playing with fire, baby girl. I hope you know what you’re doing…” and then, he’s just gone as fast as he came.

It fucking pissed you off. Who the hell does he think he is? Getting you all worked up, teasing you, playing with your emotions? You’re seeing red.

You take a look around only to find him back in his seat. Then, you have an idea. Screw the drinks! You walk past your table, grabbing Finn’s hand as you pass. A confused look crossed his face, soon replaced with a smile.

You pull him close, hooking your arms around his shoulders, his hands quickly finding your lower back. You start dancing suggestively against Finn, and he quickly followed along.

“Samoan giving ya a bad time, uh?” He smiles against your ear, and it finally hits you. What the fuck are you doing? Using Finn? This is not you. Finn must have realized what you’re thinking. He smiles brightly before he says, “Hey, it’s fine. I know you like him. Plus, I’m having a really good time. Extra plus, this is fun. I just hope he doesn’t beat my ass.”

You can’t help but giggle, hiding your face in his neck as you keep dancing. After a while, you notice Roman fuming in his seat, a not so amusing look on his face. He can suck it up, you think.

After a couple of songs, you and Finn parted and headed to your seats. You inform him that you have to go to the bathroom, and he just nods in understanding.

As you neared the bathroom door, someone grabs you by your arm, pulling you outside. Surprise, surprise. It’s Roman.

“What do you want?” You spat angrily.

“Try it again, baby girl. I dare you to tease me again. You’ll see what happens.” He snaps back, his voice filled with venom.

“What will you do? Because it seems to me that you’re all talk.” You tease him, getting your arm off his grasp with one motion. “Ah, not even all talk. Considering you haven’t spoken to me in months!” You fire. “And also, I’m not interested. Thank you very much.”

“So you’re interested in him now?” He questions, his tone now softer, and his demeanor completely changed.

“You didn’t even bother to talk to me after that day. So why do you care?” You spit venomously.

“I never stopped caring!” He admits, exasperated.

“You didn’t? You sure do have a funny way of showing it.” You mumble sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest.

He sighs deeply, moving his gaze to his feet. “Look… I fucked up. I know I did. And I know I failed you.” He admits, his gaze now on yours. “But when I realized what I’d done, it was too late. There was no going back. The damage was done and I didn’t know how to reach you, or what I’d say to you.”

He takes one-step closer to you, reaching out for your hands, and all the anger you had in you was gone by now, so you complied. “But now, standing here in front of you… I just want to say two things. Number 1: I’m sorry…”

“And number 2?”

“I love you.”

Your heart is about to burst after those words left his lips. The intensity of his gaze burning into your own.

“You do?” You ask shyly, wanting some reassurance.

“I really do.” He smiles gently, pulling you close and resting one hand on your lower back, the other one moves to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, as you rest on hands on his chest. “I know I should’ve said it sooner, but it’s rather late than never, right?” He lets out a small chuckle, then his face grows more serious. “I love you, (Y/N). You’re my girl. You always have been.”

You’re sure your smile is reaching your cheeks, and that your cheeks are painted red, but honestly you couldn’t care less. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been.

“I love you too, Roman.” He smiles so brightly, you swear he could light up the entire town. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and move your gaze to his chest, suddenly feeling shy. “I want to kiss you.”

“Baby, you can kiss me any time.”

He leans down, his hand still cupping your face, and presses his lips to yours. They feel even better than what you had imagined. It’s all better than what you imagined.

You pull back for air and you smile at each other before connecting your lips again. The kiss grows more heated quickly. It gets sloppier, tongues playing smooth yet hotly, you nipping on his lower lip teasingly, him nipping on yours in revenge, your hand tugging on his hair.

Suddenly he pulls back for air, resting his forehead against yours.

“So… before you were saying that if I teased you some more, I’d see what would happen.” You bite your lip, teasingly, as you run your fingers in his chest.

“Yeah, so…?”

“So, I want to know what would happen.”

“I guess I just have to show you then.”

Part 2? Give me some feedback please?

#roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x reader #reader insert #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fic #wwe oneshot #wwe one shot

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fineappleonapizza · 5 years

Text

Unexpected (Daniel Seavey)

uhm so I did a thing?? this is the first anything i’ve ever written so it probably sucks and im sorry but I figured if I wrote it, might as well put it out?? & I have a sequel in mind, so let me know if yall would be interested!

Description: When an unexpected day turns into an unexpected fight with an unexpected ending.

Warnings: Sad ending, cursing

Word count: 2,120

You fell into the couch as a sigh escaped your lips. Spending your spring break holed up in Daniel’s apartment was not in the plan. You were supposed to be spending time with him before your break was over and he had to go back on tour. You guys hadn’t been able to find a lot of time to talk lately, and you could tell that the long distance on top of the lack of communication was wearing on the both of you. So when he had gotten the call this morning about a studio opening up last minute and an emergency session being called and you were left alone, you were disappointed. You had tried throughout the day to get caught up on some homework or some work emails, but that hadn’t gone very well. Then you tried to find something to watch on Netflix or a video on Youtube, but all that was on your mind was the fact that you were supposed to be with your boyfriend right now and you hadn’t even heard from him in 8 hours. You understood he was busy with work, and part of you loved him for his constant dedication and drive, but the other part of you was stuck wondering why you were here alone. If this was maybe 6 months ago, Daniel would have taken you to the studio with him, or at least tried to facetime you or something during a break. You grabbed your phone from the side table and shot Daniel a text asking if he would be home soon, you were thinking or getting dinner and wanted to know if you should get something for him. Daniel responded saying he would probably be a couple of hours still and to just get something on your own, but that he would make dinner tomorrow to make up for missing out on the day today. You weren’t surprised, things like this had been happening for a while now, but that didn’t mean you didn't feel the pang of hurt in your chest. You grabbed a jacket and your phone and slammed the door behind you. This is stupid, you thought. Here I am in the middle of Los freaking Angeles on my spring break ALONE walking to who knows where to find something to eat because my boyfriend has left me alone all day and-

“Ugh!” You didn't even know anything around here that was that good, where were you going?! You dialed Anna’s number and hoped more than anything she answered so you could find some damn food.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?!”

“An, hi. How’s Portland?”

“It’s great, I always love coming home, it just feels different than LA, you know?”

Yeah, I know. “Yeah, I get you. Hey, I don’t mean to keep you from your friends, I was just wondering what some good food around here was? I'm on my own for dinner tonight.”

“Alone? Daniel is at the studio i’m guessing?”

“Yup.”

“Uh, well, there’s always In’ N Out. Langer’s is good. Egglsut, too. There’s a lot of places around the apartment complex, but those are more like snacks and things rather than meals.”

“Got it, thanks girl. Have fun!”

You found some place that sold chicken strips and ordered a mango smoothie and, after walking around downtown for a while, headed back towards the apartment. Thank God for GPS.

Daniel was sitting on the couch, already showered and changed, when you had gotten back.

“Oh. I thought you were supposed to be late tonight.”

He glanced up from his phone and smiled. “Session let out early, come here.” He pulled you down so your head was on his lap and his fingers threaded themselves through your hair.

“You could’ve called or something, I was out alone and I missed you.”

“I know, but I was tired and figured you were having fun exploring.”

“Not really… it would’ve been more fun with you.”

“Babe, I know. I wish we could’ve spent today together. I know you have to go home soon and then we’ll be back to only facetime and stuff, but we have this new song we’re working on and we have to put ad-libs on still, and with tour coming up we won’t have professional studio time, and it’s just crazy.”

“Mhm, that sounds like a lot.” You hummed as he stroked his fingers through your hair and felt your eyes begin to close. “I miss you D.”

“I miss you too, babe.”

“No, not like, being with you. But you. I miss you. Talking to you like this, and seeing your eyes light up when you're talking about new music or tour or some post you saw on instagram. I haven’t this you in months.”

You felt his fingers freeze in your hair as you spoke. “Babe, what are you talking about? I was telling you about a song last week-“

“For five minutes Daniel. And then you had to leave, said something about meeting the boys for dinner or something.”

“Listen, I know i've been busy lately and im sorry. It's just work and-“

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Y/N, what's wrong?”

“It just sucks. Like, I understand it’s your job and everything-“

He was upset, felt like he was being blamed and attacked. “Do you!?”

You sat up. Daniel hasn’t ever said anything like this to you before, and suddenly you were angry. All you were doing was talking to him about how you miss him and the toll his work is taking on you and he wants to get mad?

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, do you get it? Every fight we’ve had in the last like two months has been about my job, Y/N.”

“What?!”

“I mean, you say you understand, but then we end up fighting about something that comes back to my job! So, do you get it?”

“I try! I try my best, but not all of us can be worldwide superstars who live the life and have the job that you do Daniel!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes it is. You don’t think I really understand and that I overreact to everything-”

“I never said that-“

“You did. That’s exactly what you said but not in those words.” You stood from the couch and bunched your fist as you walked to the kitchen. You were trying not to cry angry tears because what the hell? How did we get here? You heard Daniel sigh from the other room, and you turned around when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“Listen, I try to understand what you do. I really do. We’ve been dating for a year, and there are some things that I guess I still struggle with. But I understand that you’re busy Daniel. I know that your days are often hours and hours long, whether you're here in LA or off touring somewhere. I know that you don't always have time to talk and that you can't always be there for me when I need you. I understand how hard you and the guys work. I know how much the fans mean to you, and how much you love every single one of them. Tell me if I’m wrong?” You stared at him from across the counter and watched as he stood still. “Ok? So I try my best to understand your job, and I thought I was doing a pretty good job at that. But to explain why all of our fights lately seem to be about it? Because I don’t think you understand mine! I go to college full time! I have work and school and homework and clubs. I stress about making sure I’m on the right path for success and i'm fearing failure ever .3 seconds of the day. I may not do what you do, but I do have dreams that I'm working on too, ok!? And my boyfriend is gone all the time! Most girls get to actually spend time with and hug and kiss their boyfriends whenever they want- I don't get to do that. Instead I get to sit there and watch millions of girls fawn over mine, knowing that all it would take is one word from you and you could have any of them at any second! And I get hated on online by thousands of people in the world who I don't even know exist all because im dating this celebrity that they’re in love with. And the craziest part? We aren’t even publicly confirmed! Sure, everyone knows at this point, but that’s not really the point. I try to ignore that, because I know at the end of the day, it's just jealousy. But it still hurts, Daniel, to read that stuff about myself. Because I’m still that insecure girl deep down, and I-“

You paused to inhale a breath. You were rambling, and Daniel could tell you were mad.

“I-“ He paused too. The both of were silent for a while, standing across the room, staring at each other. Both of you were upset, mad at the other for making this seem like it was all on one person.

“You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for this.”

You blinked, slowly. With a shaky breath, you turned around. How the hell could he have just said that?

“When I signed up for this? I didn’t know dating you was another job I applied for, Daniel.”

“Y/N-“

“Usually, when two people start dating it’s because they like each other, Daniel! It’s not a job! And if it was a job, then it should be paying a hell of a lot more than a boyfriend who doesn’t even feel like a boyfriend anymore!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. You were not supposed to be spending your spring break fighting with your boyfriend. How had this happened?

“Daniel, let's be honest. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in person in months, and we’ve talked even less than that! I’m not talking about little conversations here and there about nothing- we have those all the time. But I have those conversations with people I run into on the way to class! That’s my point! I don’t feel like we’re dating, I feel like you’re just a friend. And that breaks my heart, but you can’t tell me that you don’t feel the same, D.”

“I- I don’t- I thought we were okay.”

“I did too! But sitting here right now, I think it’s clear that we haven’t really been in that kind of a relationship for a while. We were so good at the beginning, and we just aren’t anymore. I love you, I still do, and I always will. Forever. But I think that maybe, for now, we should take a break.”

Daniel crossed the room, and the both of you grabbed onto each other with tears in your eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you.” His voice was laced with tears, and as you hugged, his body shaked.

“You won't. Ever. We can still be friends, Daniel. In fact, I need you to be my best friend. I cant lose my best friend and my boyfriend.”

“I love you. I'm so sorry.”

“D, this isn’t on you. It’s just not our time right now.”

“I know. But I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn’t be the boyfriend you needed, and I'm sorry that you have to read the things you do all because of me. I love you, and seeing you hurt hurts me too. I’m sorry.”

“Daniel Seavey, I love you. I don’t blame you for anything, and I never will. I need you Daniel, so I need you to get that stuff out of your head.”

“You can stay here for the rest of your break, and uh, uhm. We’ll figure out how to be friends, I guess.”

“Nothing's gonna change, Daniel. We’ve always been friends. We just won't do the kissing and the romantic stuff anymore.”

“Yeah. We’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be just fine.” As you pulled away from Daniel, you wiped a tear from your eyes. You didn’t want to let go, because the both of you knew when let go, it was really over. 1 year. So many laughs and kisses and memories, and it was all over now. Being friends would be what’s best for now, but the both of you knew it wouldn’t be the same. So with one last hug, you let go and headed to the bedroom and climbed into bed, where you cried yourself to sleep.

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dtfharry · 6 years

Text

Jamaica

Harry X Reader: THIGH RIDING / SMUT

In which you and Harry have wound up together in Jamaica for a friend’s wedding, causing shy glances and uncomfortable conversations about your boyfriend back home, the one that kinda stuck around when Harry broke your heart 2 years ago.

Word Count: 7k+

Jamaica was a blessing.

Although you’d only just gotten on the plane at Gatwick, you knew Jamaica was going to be everything you needed and more. Planning a wedding for your best friend was incredibly stressful so much so you wish you’d said no when she asked so sweetly. You thought you had it all under control, but that was until your phone was buzzing throughout the day with people texting over their meal choice and dietary requirements. Too many people wanting the chicken and not enough people wanting the beef or salmon. You’d had enough of it and had enough of the glass of red in your hand not making this any easier, so you took a deep breath and took to your iPhone keyboard.

Look, it’s either the beef or the salmon. Forget the fucking chicken it’s gone. You’ve got 5 minutes to text me or you are out of the wedding.

You accepted the complimentary glass of wine onboard the plane, it would have been rude not too. You sat back waiting for the emergency demonstrations to be finished with, so you could put your headphones in and enjoy the in-flight entertainment for 9 and a half hours until you arrived in paradise.

The minute you got to The Jamaican Inn you’d fallen in love. Your room had fresh flowers on every surface possible and you thought it couldn’t get any better until you walked into the bathroom and saw you had a big bath in the middle of the room which looked out onto the ocean. You thought you were dreaming, you really did. You walked back to your room, dropping your bags and walking towards the balcony that overlooked the beach too. You were in paradise and this trip hadn’t even properly begun yet. You dropped yourself onto the bed and just listened to the waves that were crashing onto the shore.

You were awoken by that ridiculously annoying iPhone ringtone, and after many shut up’s, it still hadn’t silenced. You rubbed your eyes while looking out to the balcony, it wasn’t light anymore outside and you quickly realised you’d fallen asleep. “Hello?” You cleared your throat and stood up, you shut the windows and closed the blinds a little. “Shit, I’ll be 20 minutes. I’ll meet you in the lobby, bye.” You mumbled as you ran into the bathroom and ran the bath. You had 20 minutes to get ready and to meet your best friend and her husband-to-be downstairs for the rehearsal dinner. Great. 20 minutes until you see Harry.

You quickly washed and got your clothes out of your suitcase, you mentally cursed yourself for not doing this earlier. But the bed looked way too comfy and you were so tired, so when you thought, fuck it a 30-minute nap won’t hurt. It hurt, big time because that 30-minute nap turned out to be 3 hours long.

You quickly pulled the red dress over your head and shoulders, sucking your stomach in so it actually fit your body, you cursed yourself again, you really needed to stop taking complimentary chocolates from the hotels you visited. You pulled your makeup bag out of the suitcase along with many thongs and bras. You sprawled your makeup out on the floor and found what you needed. Trying to put on your lippy while trying to find your heels in the other suitcase was an award-winning performance you thought, eventually you were ready with 3 minutes to spare.

You really needed to get your shit together.

You quickly sprayed your favourite perfume, grabbed your clutch and iPhone and you were ready. As you went to open the door you saw your reflection in the mirror, “FUCK.” You pulled your hair out of the band and let it flow past your shoulders. “Fuck it, it’s not my wedding.” You said as you ran your fingers through your hair and tried to make it look half decent.

You got out of the maze you thought the hallway was and saw the sign that pointed to the lifts. You looked at you iPhone and saw the many texts from Bex asking where the fuck you were. You decided to ignore them, nothing like winding the bride up, the night before her big day right? You carried on walking to the lifts, you looked up from your phone when you heard the lift make a beep, alerting everyone that it was opening, you hurried your steps and got to the lift. And that’s when you saw him.

Harry.

You didn’t know when the last time you saw him. You sometimes saw him in the street, but you never approached him, it wasn’t necessary. You saw him countless times in M&S, but you just went down a different aisle. Sometimes you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, but you wouldn’t forget that number plate on his Range Rover, so you knew it was him. And he knew you were there too, he saw your Mini Cooper in the M&S carpark, it wasn’t hard to miss. He didn’t see many baby blue Mini’s in the area, and maybe just maybe, he remembered your number plate too.

Your break up with Harry wasn’t messy. If anything, it was placid. You’d been together for 3 years, but the realisation of Harry being a superstar eventually got to you, not in the fact that he was who he was, but because of the touring. And you hated yourself for basing the breakup on that fact. But it was true. The last year of your relationship is when Harry began to tour the most. You’d go for weeks without seeing him, and days without a proper conversation, just little texts here and there. And yes, you knew this was what came with dating Harry Styles. But you didn’t think it would get this tough.

So, you decided to tell the man you loved more than anything in the entire world that you wanted to break up. And Harry understood, he really did. And that’s what made it hurt more, the fact that he had been thinking it too, it wasn’t fair to leave you weeks on end and to only be able to text you every now and then. He hated it too, he just wanted to fly you out to every single show and have you in his arms the minute it ended and just keep with him forever. But that wasn’t realistic. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t lust anymore, it was guilt. So, when you packed up all your things on a Sunday morning and took one last look at the house you’d live in for 3 years with the love of your life. You thought this would be it. Harry helped take your boxes to the car. He let you keep his things that you’d grown attached to. Except him. It had been a week since you broke up and you were trying so hard not to crumble and just fall back into his arms. But just when you thought you were okay, he texts you, open your door, so you did, and he was there, eyes completely bloodshot and big puffy lips. Before you could even blink he had lifted you up and kissed you so hard you thought your lips were going to break. He shut the front door and carried you up the stairs, you both knew this shouldn’t be happening but neither of you could stop it, you both just had too, one more time, for old time’s sake. He held you as if he was never going to let you go again and kissed you as if he was losing you, which he was and you both started to cry and say things but were soon consumed in each other that you’d forgotten why you were crying.

You’d been in contact recently. Wedding purposes only. You had to text him, asking what meal choice he wanted at the wedding. When Bex asked if you needed his number you slowly shook your head. You never deleted it, although you promised yourself you would. So it was good when he text you first.

Hi, it’s Harry. I hope you’re well. The feta salad for starter, the chicken for main and the cheesecake for dessert, please. H x

Oh, do you know what the cheesecake is?

Hi. I’m good, taa. Yourself? Got it, thank you! x

Think it’s blueberry or strawberry.

Good, I’m glad. For your sake, I hope it’s strawberry.

Me too, but it’s not my wedding! I’ll be by the chocolate fondue machine if it’s blueberry.

I can imagine Bex has said that a lot? Chocolate fondue machine? This wedding will be fun.

You know Bex! And a free bar, what more could you ask for?

Of course. See you soon. H x

Harry gave you a double look, unsure if it was actually you. He gives you a soft smile and you politely return it. You stepped in the lift and pressed the button that said G.

“How have yeh been?”

You looked up at him. Your eyes were like a deer in headlights, it was as if you were stunned he’d actually spoken to you.

“I’ve been good thank you. How are you?” You watched Harry and smiled softly. It was lovely to hear his voice again, in all honesty, you missed it. Harry nodded, saying he’s been well and that this wedding in Jamaica was something he’d been looking forward to for a while. He was the best man to Brad, Bex’s husband to be, which made him bring up the subject of your boyfriend, something you didn’t want to speak about at all throughout this trip. Your awkward silence made Harry clear his throat.

“One of us had to bring him up, Y/N.”

“It’s good, thank you.” You leave it at that. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore and you hoped Harry got that, but he didn’t.

“Do you think he’s the one?’

You could hear the dryness in Harry’s voice, he always had a way of asking questions that were obvious he didn’t put much thought behind. Your heart started to hurt as you looked up at him. Why was he doing this?

“I- I don’t really believe in that kind of stuff anymore.” You said quietly. Thankfully the lift came to a stop and the doors opened so you didn’t have to see Harry’s face. You could see Bex and Brad standing there talking amongst themselves. Once they heard the lift doors open they turned in unison to look at you, their faces said it all. You weren’t sure if it was because you weren’t alone or because it was Harry in the lift with you.

The wedding rehearsal dinner went smoothly. Months of planning had finally paid off, although the wedding was tomorrow it wasn’t possible for anything to go wrong right? You let out a deep breath as you took a sip of your G&T, letting out a small laugh when you heard everyone else doing so just so it looked like you were paying attention. You looked up when you heard Bex snort, she was drunk. It was amusing to watch, you were glad your best friend was happy and in less than 24 hours she was going to marry the man of her dreams.

The more Bex drank the more vocal she became, it was interesting, to say the least. You just hoped she left you out of her drunken rambles. You and Harry were sitting opposite each other at the dining table when Bex let it slip. The conversation was on the bridesmaids and how they were missing their boyfriends back home, and someone happened to mention that you would be missing yours as you’d been in the longest relationship out of them all. And that’s when Bex said it.

“I doubt it, I think Y/N’s glad she broke up with him last week.” Bex snorted and then mumbled an ‘oops’ as Brad quietly said something in her ear.

And there it was, something you were wanting to remain hush hush this entire trip. You couldn’t really blame Bex, she was pissed out of her arse and happy, so happy. You were jealous of her, you only being one of the two. You decided that your relationship with your boyfriend was going to come to an end. You weren’t feeling it anymore and you were getting quite sick of his temper tantrums when you refused to suck his dick every night and you were pretty sure he was dealing coke on the side, so really Bex’s wedding came at the perfect time to break it off and have the best trip of your life in Jamaica with the ones you love and the ones you loved.

You let out a sigh and took the last remaining sip of your drink before standing up and mumbled a quick, thanks, Bex. You hadn’t realised everyone’s eyes were on you, but you noticed Harry’s when you quickly glanced at him before pushing your chair away, so you could leave. You headed to the bar to get another drink and left the dining room.

The beach was beautiful in the evening, it’s like you planned it perfectly to leave the others. There was a light breeze in the air that softly touched the palm trees making them sway as they led you to the less public part of the beach. There were lanterns in the sand which guided everyone to different parts of the beach. You knew you had to explore, but not tonight, you just wanted to sit down on the sand, look at the ocean and drink the most expensive bottle of wine from the bar that you accidentally put on Bex and Brad’s tab.

You hadn’t even realised you were crying until you felt a drop of something wet hit your arm, you sniffled and wiped your eyes, but the tears kept coming. You took another swig of the wine and pulled a face as you swallowed it. You looked out at the ocean and just stared at it for a while thinking how it looked so calm. You were taken from your thoughts when you heard someone walking up next to you. And that’s when you saw him again.

Harry.

He looked like a God. You noticed his hair was a lot shorter now than it was 2 years ago, not that you minded, it was for the Dunkirk movie he did, and the change was good for him. You didn’t have a chance to mention it before because, in all honesty, the two of you haven’t really spoken at all today, but what did that matter, you’ve not actually spoken for two years. The sea salt air had made the ends of his fringe begin to curl and it was funny because for once he was not in control of how his hair went. He was adjusting to the weather in Jamaica, with his shirt unbuttoned at the collar and of course the next three buttons down. Those trousers, if anyone would pull off black pants with pink and red fucking glitter florals on them, it would be him. His eyes were bloodshot but this time it was from all of the alcohol he’d been drinking, not from you breaking his heart.

“There you are,” Harry spoke so softly, hiding the fact that he was just relieved to have found you. You smiled at him, holding the bottle of wine up to invisibly cheers him. He sat down next to you on the sand, he could tell you were drunk as you had an empty bottle of wine in between your legs, one more than you actually thought you had. He looked out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before looking back at you, he noticed the tears on your cheeks and frowned.

“Do yeh’ remember when we went on holiday to Greece and we went on that boat to the private island where we had a candlelit dinner?”

You looked at him and let out a teary sigh. Of course, you remembered. It was your 2-year anniversary and Harry had surprised you with a holiday to Greece and you were just so excited to spend two weeks with him and just him. No work. No interrupted dinners, no interrupted kisses, no interrupted quickies that left you halfway through an orgasm while you were screaming bloody murder at Harry to get back and finish what he started. You were just excited to be with the man you love in the most beautiful place on earth.

“I remember some of it.” You admitted quietly. “I made myself forget some stuff as it just hurt too much when I thought about y- when I thought about it.” You hoped he didn’t catch on to what you let slip, but he did. He always did.

After a while of reminiscing about the past, you were completely unaware how close you and Harry were sitting. You didn’t even realise that your head was resting on his shoulder. The closeness made your heart sink a little. You didn’t realise how much you had missed him until now. Harry moved slightly causing you to open your eyes and turn to look at him. His head swivels in your direction immediately, his eyes matching yours. You looked at him as if you were looking for something, you didn’t know what it was you were looking for, but you just couldn’t turn away.

Harry leans forward, licking his bottom lip slightly and you know you should probably move away but you’ve had so much to drink you feel paralysed. His lips softly brushed against yours as he kissed you. You let out a soft moan which Harry returned a couple more times. His hands reached up to your cheeks as he held them softly, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. His tongue swiped your bottom lip as his right hand went around the curve of your neck to hold you closer. Your sudden realisation of what was happening made you moan, granting Harry the access he needed as you opened your mouth slightly.

You kissed for what felt like hours, you missed his lips, you missed his touch, you craved it, you craved him. His hands grasp at your hips and lift you up onto his lap. Your sudden moan jolted Harry’s hand and you almost straddling his thigh, although you were so high on kissing him you had no idea. Harry’s hands slowly made their way from your cheeks to your waist to your arse and you were loving it so much you hadn’t realised you were grinding up and down on Harry’s thigh until he let out a moan that paused the kisses you were giving.

The kissing came to a stop as Harry moved to your neck, from delicate little kisses too long strokes of his tongue on the spot he knew got you weak. You couldn’t ignore the burning sensation in your stomach, you were tingling with pure excitement and you couldn’t even try and control it.

His lips felt like melted butter on your skin, they were so soft. It wasn’t until he nipped harshly at your neck that your own moan brought you out of your little daydream. He made sure he left a mark, like always, but you didn’t mind. You moved your hands down to what you thought was his chest, instead, your hands were just a little under his navel, to which you could feel how hard he was. The amount of alcohol you had consumed gave you just a tiny bit more confidence, so you rubbed him slowly over his trousers. He hissed at your actions which made you sit properly on his thigh this time, and so you kept rubbing yourself against it. A gasp leaving your lips when you feel friction on your clit, your hands abandoning his hardening length and knotting in the shoulders of his shirt.

“Yeh always loved that.” His voice sounding like honey against your ear, you moan again while drunkenly nodding your head.

“Can I keep doing it?” You said ever so softly, he looked at you, never being able to tell you no, so he nodded his head. “Of course, you can darlin’.”

You moan gratefully, ears still ringing in the aftermath of his words and how they just rolled off his lips.

He hums in approval when you settle into a slow pace, focusing on the pressure more than the speed. His fingers digging into your hips to hold you down, that alone getting you more and more worked up. And when he gives you little praises in his raspy voice you think you are about to explode.

“You’re doin’ so well, love.”

You whimper as you start to feel your build up coming to the brink and Harry praises you until you get there but you shake your head in between moans. Harry moves the hair that’s fallen on your face to look at you. You look at him and then look downwards.

“Fuck, Harry. I can’t come on Gucci!”

His two fingers slip between his thigh and your underwear. He hadn’t comprehended the extent of your arousal until you stopped moving. You gasp and shudder at his sudden touch. “Yeh really do love this don’t ya, you’re soaked.” He pulls your underwear to one side and greedily slides his fingers inside, slighting brushing the top of one between your folds. He pulls his fingers out and before you’ve got time to even blink he slams them back into you. You jolt forward with a loud moan, your heart beginning to race at the excitement and how you’ve not been touched like this in over six months.

You’re gripping his hair so tightly he’s sure he’s going to lose a few, but the way he works his fingers inside you is killing you and you just want to come. But you’re not sure if you’re going to come the fucking rainbow, it feels THAT good. And you’re sure it was always like this with Harry, certain on it, in fact. But this felt so good that you literally just wanted to scream from the top of your lungs. And it didn’t help when his thumb decided to play part in all this and press your clit, beginning to rub circles on it, you couldn’t shut your eyes hard enough.

“Come for me,” he rasped and that was all you needed. Your head tilted back as if it was going to fall off, and so many sounds escaped your lips, you weren’t even sure you were speaking English anymore, your head was spinning like a yo-yo from the intensity of your orgasm. But you didn’t care, you were chanting his name like a fucking hymn and he was so wrapped up in your voice and how he had this effect on you.

Your chest is pressed up against his as you desperately heave for air. He leaves soft little kisses on the side of your forehead until your breathing is back to normal. And just when you thought you were done he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, as you watched him lick his fingers as if they were his favourite ice lolly. You looked in amazement, and when his eyes met yours you thought it was possible to just explode in his arms.

You didn’t decline Harry’s offer to go back to his. You didn’t decline anything that he offered in fact, so for the last half an hour your lips were superglued to each other’s as you laid on his bed. You had learnt how to pull away from his kisses and you did after a while, and you both began to talk, about life, and what you were both up to these days. It felt nice to just chat with him again like you used too and laugh to the point you thought you were going to piss yourself. You really had missed this.

It’s when you all of a sudden get ballsy and push his chest down onto the bed and kiss his lips so hard he thinks they’ve have deflated, that you work your way down his body until you come to his belt and trousers. You lifted his shirt up a little and smirked to yourself when you saw the inked words might as well… under his hip. You fiddle with the belt and undo it, chucking it behind you, you stop as he grabs your hands and asks what are you doing? You look at him, “you know what I’m doing Haz.” And that’s all he needed to let go of your wrists and prop himself onto his elbows to watch you.

You slipped your hand around the base of his cock and looked up at him as he let out a grunted moan. You moved a little closer and flicked your tongue over the head of his shaft, teasing him with little kitten licks. You locked your lips around the tip and sucked lightly, causing his hand to pull on your hair lightly. You lowered your head in slow movements while you continued to suck his length. You pulled away completely and licked up the entirety of his length, your eyes locked on him.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “You make me crazy, Y/N,” he whined and threw himself back on the bed. You let out a soft little giggle while he propped himself back up onto his elbows. Your hand holding the base as your mouth slid down to the base, to the point his pubic hairs were touching your nose. You quickly pushed the thoughts of; how long has it been for him? Who was giving it to him? - out of your head and just continued.

“Your mouth is almost as good as your pussy,” he groaned. You moaned loudly against him surprised at the remembrance, causing him to jolt forward, creating a yelp to cry out as he pushed his cock in your throat a little too far. You opened your eyes as water came to the brink and he noticed and apologised quickly. You pulled away slowly, the saliva strings following your lips as your mouth abandoned his tip. He watches you, stroking your cheek to make sure you were alright.

You let out a deep breath while looking at him. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this if anything it was probably the twentieth time this had happened. During your relationship with Harry, blowjobs were a very common thing, hell, anything that included the two of you being naked or getting each other off was a common thing. You started off tallying every time you gave Harry a blowie, but you soon became bored as you were getting chalk dust on your bedroom floor every single day. So, you both decided not to keep track as there wasn’t really a need for it. But every month he’d accidentally jolt forward without any warning and leave you with a very sore throat for the next few days. You attached your lips to his dark pink tip once again and went back to doing what you did best. He was twitching underneath you, mumbles leaving his lips, his grip getting tighter and tighter on the roots of your hair.

“I’m gonna come,” he moaned as you flicked your tongue over his slit a couple more times, you nodded your head preparing yourself to swallow his load. He twitched, and his release hit the back of your throat within an instant, you moaned slowly as you swallowed it and pulled away. Not forgetting to clean up the rest of his length with your tongue.

Waking up that next morning was perfect. You could hear the birds chirping from the trees and you could hear the waves slowly crashing into one another. Had you actually woken up without a hangover? You counted your lucky stars and hoped it was true. You stirred in your sleep and realised you had an arm around your waist and someone snoring softly in your ear. You let out a deep breath and looked down at the arm over your stomach, a cross tattoo by his thumb and an anchor tattoo on his wrist. You knew whose arm this belonged too.

You let out a little cough, desperately needing some water down your throat, especially after last night. Harry stirred next to you and moved his arm slowly. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, looking around the room, his was different to yours for sure. Harry sat up and looked at you, he didn’t want to admit it but that was the best sleep he’d had in months. You both turned your heads and looked at each other, you smile softly as his hand finds yours on top of the covers, his thumb stroking your pinkie finger slightly. Just as he went to say something your iPhone began to ring. You let out a little sigh which he notices, and you get up pulling a blanket with you. You wrap it around your body as you try and find where that ridiculous music is coming from. You eventually find it and put the iPhone to your ear.

“Good morning to you too,” you start and clear your throat again, you wince as you touch your throat, still painful from Harry’s little accident last night. You look up at him as he mouths a quick sorry. You try and find the clothes you were wearing last night while partly listening to her highnesses, Bex’s speech about how it’s her wedding day today, and that it has to be perfect, there is no time for any mistakes.

“Bex, hunny, calm the fuck down!” You said as you found you bra sitting on the TV, you grabbed it and tucked it underneath your arm. “I just need to shower, when I’ve done that, I’ll go downstairs and make sure everything is in place, and everything is exactly what you’ve asked for ok?” You asked as you eventually found your dress in Harry’s bathroom. You picked up your shoes and held them by the straps as you looked around hastily for your underwear.

“I’ll go and check that the caterers are all here and ready, and then I’ll come up and get my hair and make-up done, and then I’ll be with ya ok? Just breathe. I’ve got this.” You took a deep breath as you looked around the room once more but still couldn’t find your red thong. You hung up the phone and put it back in your clutch bag which was tucked in the lampshade by Harry’s bed. This morning was getting more and more confusing.

You looked up at Harry as he just sat at the end of the bed, the blanket wrapped around his waist. Red thong in hand.

You walked over to him and took the thong from his hands. “Thank you.” You smile at him and he smiles back.

“Sorry about um your throat.” He says with a little smile toying on his lips. Your cheeks flush and you let out a smile. “It’s okay, used to it.” You let out a little laugh as you look at him.

“I have to leave though.” You say softly, and he nods his head once more.

“I thought so. I’ll see you in a while.” He says in a raspy voice that makes you want to just fall back into his arms and never leave.

You fiddle with the bouquet in your hands as you look at Bex one last time. You smiled at her, she looked beautiful and your heart was bursting with happiness. You took one last look in the mirror and thanked the lord for the makeup artist and the amazing job they had done to your face.

“See you out there.” You smiled at your best friend and took one last deep breath before you left the bride’s suite before heading to the area where the groomsmen were waiting for their partners.

Where Harry was waiting for you.

You walked towards him, smiling at the other groomsmen behind Harry. You stopped as Harry bent his arm, you took hold of it gently and smiled. He leaned in to kiss your cheek and your breathing began to hitch. You returned the small peck on his stubbly cheek and returned to your original position.

“Y/N. You look absolutely breath-taking.” He said softly as you both watched Brad walk down the aisle, shaking Bex’s father’s hand and hugging her mum. He stood in position and the faint instrumental music of All of Me by John Legend began to play and you knew in 2 minutes you had to walk down that aisle.

“Thank you. You look really good. I like the short hair.” You said softly, not wanting the other groomsmen to hear your conversation. The bridesmaids began to appear from the direction you did, partnering up with the groomsmen.

“I didn’t think you noticed.” He says with a small smirk playing on his lips, you looked up at him.

“I did. It was hard not to notice yesterday, I’m used to tugging on long hair.” You said innocently, Harry noticing your smile as you turned your head so you were no longer facing him. You knew a smile had spread across that face you once loved.

Cause all of me, loves all of you.

On cue, you and Harry walked out of the doors and onto the soft sand. You both looked up as everyone turned towards you, you smiled softly as the flower girl in front of you dropped orange petals on the ground you walked.

Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you.

You let out a deep breath and shut your eyes as you could feel the tears filling them. Now wasn’t the time. You could cry another time.

As you got to Brad you and Harry parted your ways. But just as you let go of Harry’s arm he grabbed your hand and leaned in to kiss your cheek, before pulling away.

You cleared your throat and stood in your position. You looked at Harry as he shook hands with Brad and stood opposite to you. The bridesmaids began to walk down the aisle and as they got into place, the music slowly stopped and Bex’s chosen song began to play. A Thousand Years by Christina Perri.

The guests stood, and you turned your attention to the aisle, smiling at your best friend as she walked down the aisle.

After the tearful speeches and the full-on make-out session, Brad and Bex had once the minister said you may now kiss the bride. You were finally sitting down at the selected table for all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen. You were just excited to get the food down you. You had been so nervous something was going to go wrong you completely skipped breakfast and lunch. And so, when your feta salad came out, you asked for two portions as you were the maid of honour, so you had every right. And when the chicken was getting served you asked for more, because you were the maid of honour and had every right.

And because you were the maid of honour, you got your drinks brought to you, so you didn’t have to keep getting up to go to the bar. You had become rather friendly with Joey the young man who was literally at your beck and call all night. But you were the maid of honour after all.

You were placed next to Harry, you reckoned Bex had something to do with it, but you weren’t particularly sure and to be honest, you didn’t care. It was awfully nice to have him so close to you.

There were little hand touches throughout the reception, it was either, reaching for the salad dressing at the same time, or both leaning to pick up the jug of water, it was uncanny, to say the least. So, when Harry excused himself you thought he had gone to the loo, he’d had way too many beers in a short amount of time, so you weren’t surprised.

But what you were surprised at was the clink of a knife being tapped against the champagne flute, and Harry whispering 1, 2, 3, can you hear me? - into the microphone. You were disappointed a little, you were waiting patiently for the cheesecake to be served because if it was blueberry, you wanted to be first in line for the chocolate fondue machine you had been eyeing all night.

“Hi, I’m Harry. And I would like to just say a few words.”

You looked back to Harry, whose eyes were on you and picked up your nearly empty glass, luckily Joey had noticed and came around with the champagne and quickly filled it to the top so you were able to cheers after Harry’s toast.

“Obama once said, love is love.”

And with that, he was done, glass in the air and off the stage. You let out a little laugh and took a mouthful of your drink. He sat back down next to you and you looked at him in disbelief. “That was quicker than expected.” You said softly.

“I was thinking that last night,” he mumbled and took another swig of his beer. Your cheeks flushed pink as you were unable to look away from that devilish smirk he had on his lips.

The DJ announces it is time for the first dance and you roll your eyes, praying that the cheesecake will be being served anytime now, but once you heard the song begin and you heard the words of Shania Twain; You’re Still The One, you thought your heart had stopped then and there.

When I first saw you, I saw love,

and the first time you touched me, I felt love,

and after all this time, you’re still the one I love.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as you looked up and saw Bex and Brad join together and kiss.

Looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come my baby,

You looked back to your plate and took the glass in your hand, instead of the usual mouthful, you chugged the entire liquid down your slightly swollen and sore throat.

You were unaware that Harry had been watching you instead of the newly wedded couple taking their first dance. But he knew.

He knew this was the song you wanted at your wedding. Your wedding with him. The song you took your first dance too. The song that made you think of him. The song that described your entire relationship from the first time you met, to the last time you kissed him goodbye.

You put your glass down and let out a sigh. You wipe your tears as they begin to fall and sit up. You caught eyes with Harry and he smiled softly at you.

You’re still the one I love, the only one I dream of,

You looked at him as another tear rolled down your cheek and gave the tiniest smile he’d ever seen you’d give. He moves his hand across the table and takes your hand in his. He strokes your pinkie lightly as he looks at you. You needed to look away, at something else, because if you didn’t you were going to cry your eyes out in front of everyone, and you definitely did not want that.

You didn’t want Joey to see you like this. Not now. Especially since he slipped you his number after he watched you chug down your first glass of champagne the minute you sat down at the reception.

If this wedding went to shit, you were relying on Joey to make it a tad more interesting.

‘Pretty girl, you look like you could do with a bit of fun. I get off at 5.’ was written above his number, you smiled to yourself and put the piece of paper in your clutch. You needed more than a bit of fun.

Harry stands up, your hand still in his. You look up at him confused. He tilts his head to the dance floor and you shake your head. “I can’t.”

He looks at you like he needs you to change your answer. You don’t want those emerald eyes looking sad anymore, so you oblige. You stand up and follow him to the dance floor.

As Harry held you close, you buried your head in his chest. You could hear his heart racing and you smiled to yourself, you closed your eyes as you took in his scent. God, you really missed him. And you hated yourself so much for doing so.

You swayed softly while You’re Still The One filled the room. You let out a deep breath and just enjoyed the moment you two were in.

“I miss you.”

You weren’t sure you heard what he said correctly as the chorus broke out, so you moved your head from his chest and looked at him.

“I really miss you.” He starts again. “These past 2 years, I’ve been thinking about you every day.” You blink. “We should have never broken up. I still love you Y/N.”

You stare at him. Was this happening right now? You closed your eyes and opened them again. No words functioned in your brain, so you just opened your lips to close them again.

“I get why you broke up with me. But it’s different now Y/N. I still love you.”

You blink once more, not sure you can even move at this point. You clear your throat and go to say something, but before you even have the chance, Harry leans in and kisses you.

“You’re still the one.”

(Feedback is welcome x)

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