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the-psyco-simp · 1 year

Text

Ignite

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Sano Manjiro x Fem!Reader

“…like a starship speeding into the night, you and I get lost in the infinite lights…”

Warnings: Fem!Reader, MINORS DNI, kinda edited but there are probably still mistakes, smut, slight age gap (reader is 20, mikey is 27), mentions of needles, oral (Fem!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, praise, name calling (angel, princess), teasing, aftercare, probably more

Word Count: 4.4k I went just a bit overboard, oops 😂

Authors Note: This is one of my entries for @sweet-seishu Body Mod Collab!! This is so much longer than I meant for it to be, and it took me way too long to write, but it’s finally here. (Please take the Mitsuya cameo as an apology, my love.)

The little bell above the door chimed as you and your best friend walked into the tattoo parlor. The cool air of the shop helped calm your nerves as you walked up to the counter where your best friend's boyfriend is sitting, looking through a sketchbook.

Mitsuya looked up at the sound of the door opening and gave you both a smile as he saw you. His eyes quickly moved to your friend who didn’t even pause as she went behind the counter and put her arms around his shoulders from behind.

“What are you two doing here so late?” He asked as he placed a kiss onto her hands.

You give your friend a look as she just smiled at you, only tightening her arms around his shoulders. Diverting your attention to Mitsyua you answer his question with a smile, “I’ve decided to go ahead with my idea of getting a tattoo for my birthday this year.”

“That’s great! Do you know who you want it done by?” Mitsuya opened the appointment book next to him and looked through the openings for the next few days.

“I was going to let you decide that, based on the design and who you think would do the best.” You open your phone to pull up the design and hand it to him. He contemplated the design for a few minutes before handing the phone back to you.

“Personally I think Mikey’s style would be the best for this, and he’s available for a few hours tomorrow, if that works for you. Do you know where and how big you want it?” Mitsuya picked up a pen to put your name down, still listening to what you wanted.

“I’m thinking of having it pretty big on my right thigh.” You nervously chuckle, thinking about Mikey, and having his hands on you as he works, making you blush.

“Yeah, that should be doable. It might take more than one session, though, with the level of detail you probably want. Mikey’s pretty meticulous about-”.

“Meticulous about what?” Mikey himself asked as he walked out of the hall from the back rooms. His dark eyes looking between the three of you. He was as beautiful as always, his dark hair framing his face perfectly. The lines of the tattoo on his neck peeking out from under his shirt. All you can think about is licking the lines of the tattoo…you give your head a slight shake, trying to focus back on the conversation.

“Hey Mikey, you heading out?” Mitsuya asked, turning around in your friend's arms. He put his own arms around her waist and gave her a proper hug which made your friend hum.

“Yeah, got an appointment I have to get to. You didn’t answer my question, though.” He pointedly said while keeping his eyes on you. You and Mikey knew each other in passing, you’d hang out as a group, but never alone. You couldn’t deny you had a small crush on him, which your friend loved to tease you about. Especially when she caught you looking at him.

“Oh, she’s decided to get a tattoo for her birthday.” Mitsyua said, pointing his thumb in your direction. “She asked who would do the best with it and I recommended you.”

Mikey raised a brow as he walked closer to you, making you almost want to back up from the intense look in his eyes. “What design are you wanting exactly?” He asked, stopping a bit too close to you.

You took out your phone to show him the design, knowing you wouldn’t be able to speak without stuttering and embarrassing yourself. You hand him your phone and silently hope he doesn’t notice your slightly shaking hands.

If he does, he doesn’t say anything, just takes your phone and looks down at the photo. “Yeah , I can do this. Did you know where you want it?” Mikey looked back up at you, still holding your phone.

“Um, on my thigh, the right one, if possible.” You answer quietly, not being able to keep eye contact with him for long.

Mikey seemed amused at your nerves. “Do you know how big you want it to be?”

You steel your nerves, reminding yourself that it’s just a crush and you wouldn’t let it get in the way of what you want. “I want it to be kinda big, taking up most of the front of my thigh.” You use your hands to show him about where and how big you wanted it.

When you looked at him again his eyes looked contemplative, keeping his eyes on your legs. “That should be doable.” Mikey says as he walks over to the desk, rolling his eyes at Mitsuya and your friend being lovey. “Get a room you two, We’re in public.” He comments as he looks over his appointments.

“Oh don’t worry, we will.” Your friend gave Mikey, and you, a sly smile, while Mitsuya just blushed. She went back to placing light kisses on his face and ignoring you two.

Mikey rolled his eyes again and looked back at you. “The appointment tomorrow is only for three hours, and it will probably take longer than that to get this done.” Mikey held up your phone and continued. “Would you mind if I send myself this photo so I can work up a sketch to go on?”

“Yeah of course.” You say, your eyes roaming over his face. Out of the corner of your eye you see your friend smirk at you, but you can’t figure out why. Once Mikey is done, he hands you back your phone, your figures brushing, sending goosebumps up your arm at the contact.

“I’ve gotta go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow for your appointment.” He gives you a smile and waves at Mitsuya and your friend as he leaves.

Your friend gives Mitsuya one last kiss on his lips with a promise to see him later and takes your hand as you two walk out, you send Mitsuya a wave as you get dragged out of the shop.

“So, after a year of pinning you finally got his number huh?” Your friend teases you as you get in the car. You freeze for a second in your seat before pulling out your phone to check your messages. There, sitting at the top, was a new message and contact, the name simply reading ‘Mikey’. You smiled to yourself and locked your phone, not wanting your friend to catch you staring at it.

–

The next day, you showed up five minutes early to your appointment. As you walked in you saw Mitsuya and Mikey talking at the desk. You walked over to them, catching part of their conversation.

“Finally getting your chance, huh?” Mitsuya teased him.

“Shut up, it’s not that big of a deal.” Mikey grumbled, staring at his phone.

“Just saying man, try not to waste it. Everyone but you can see the way you two-” Mitsuya cut off what he was going to say as you walked up. “Oh hey! Ready to finally do this?” Mikey looked up at you as you approached, quickly locking and putting away his phone.

“Let’s go to my station, so you can see the design and we can get started.” Mikey grabbed your hand and tried to move you away from his friend quickly.

“You know, wearing jeans when you’re getting a thigh tattoo wasn’t the smartest choice right?” Mitsuya’s voice caught your ears but you didn’t think about his words as you focused on Mikey’s warm hand holding yours.

Mikey pulled you over to his designated area, letting go of your hand to pick up what looked like a sketch book. He motioned you to sit in the chair and pulled up his stool to sit closer to you. He flipped open his book to a marked page and turned it towards you. “You can take a minute to look it over and let me know if you want anything changed.”

You took the book from him and looked down at the drawing. It was beautiful. Your eyes danced over the sketch he had drawn for you, taking in the intricate details and flowing lines. You looked up at Mikey with a smile, “It’s perfect. I love it.” His intense eyes studied your face, a smile curled at his lips as took in your expression.

“Perfect. I prefer to do tattoos free hand. Will that bother you?” Mikey asked as he started to get his equipment ready.

“If that’s what you want, it’s good with me. You’re the expert here.” You watch as he rolls up his sleeves, not being able to look away from his hands flexing.

Mikey looked over at you and seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “Since you’re getting this done on your thigh, I’m going to need access to your leg…” He trailed off, his eyes fixed on your legs.

The words Mitsuya called out to you finally clicked. You would have to pull your jeans down to let him work. Your mouth went dry and your face heated up. “Oh, right, of course.”

“I can get something to block off the space if it will make you feel more comfortable.” He offered, running his hand through his dark hair.

“I would really appreciate that, if it’s not too much trouble.” You can’t look up at him, so you just keep your eyes on your hands.

Mikey walks away and comes back a few minutes later with a partition, maneuvering it to block off the space from wandering eyes. You stood up to pull your jeans down, while Mikey continued to get his things ready to begin, pointedly keeping his back to you giving you a bit of privacy.

When he turned back around, you were sitting on the chair, your pants pulled down to just below your knees. You pulled your tank top down to try to save some modesty, but it didn’t seem to do much. Mikey turned back around, his gaze drifted down to your legs, but you couldn’t decipher the look in them.

Mikey cleared his throat before looking back up into your eyes. “Ready to get started?” He sat back on the stool as you simply nodded your head. He grabbed the wipes next to him. “I just need to clean the area off, then we can start, ok?” All you could do was nod again as Mikey placed his gloved hand on your knee.

He rubbed the wipe on up and down your thigh, seeming to take his time. Once He deems the arena clean enough, he picked up his tattoo gun and looked at you one last time. “This is probably going to hurt at first, but once you get used to it, it can be relaxing. Just let me know if you need to take a break, ok?” He explained while situating his arm between your legs to get a better angle at the space he would be working on.

You give Mikey a small smile and nod, focusing more on the arm he put between your legs. Your breathing gets heavier as his fingers unconsciously stroked your knee. You hear the buzzing and jerk your head towards the sound.

Mikey chucked a little at your expression before focusing back on his work. As the needle touched your skin you took a sharp inhale and clenched your hands together. Mikey seemed to notice you tensing under his hand. “Just breathe angel, close your eyes and relax.” You closed your eyes and relaxed into the chair, choosing to focus on his soothing and warm hand. It wasn’t too long before you drifted off to sleep.

–

You woke up to a warm hand on your face, opening your eyes to see Mikey smiling softly at you. “Is something wrong?” You ask sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“No, angel. We’re done for today, you slept through the whole thing.” He chuckled at your confused look. “It’s really not that uncommon, a lot of people fall asleep while getting tattoos.” He held his hand out to help you stand up. When you put weight on your right leg, you falter, almost falling but Mikey quickly puts his arms around you to keep you steady.

“Don’t rush, your leg is probably a little sore. You can sit as long as you need.” He didn’t seem to want to let go of you, keeping his arms tight around you. You stood in his arms for a few more minutes, slowly putting your own arms around his shoulders.

When you looked up at him you noticed your faces were centimeters apart, your breaths mingling. Looking into his eyes, you saw as they looked between your eyes and lips. “Mikey..” you breathed out his name just before his lips connected with yours.

You melted into his arms, kissing him back. His lips were so soft against yours, moving hesitantly, almost like he was worried you would pull away from. You would never pull away from him, not when you had been wanting this since you met him. You move your hands to his hair, pulling him closer, and moan into the kiss, forgetting everything around you.

He runs his tongue along your lips, and you open for him, letting him take whatever he wants. His tongue explores your mouth, making your hands tighten in his hair. You push your body completely against his, wanting more of him. He groans at the feeling of your body against his, he moves his hands down to your ass and squeezes.

You can feel him getting hard where your bodies are pressed together. You grind on him, trying to get more friction for burning heat inside of you. Mikey pulls away from the kiss, ghosting his lips over your check, moving to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Mikey chuckles at your eagerness, “Not here, princess. You’ll get what you want, but somewhere more private, where I can make you moan as loud as I want.” His words do nothing to help the need inside of you.

“Please, Mikey, need you so bad.” You breathe out, moving your face to kiss him again. He meets you halfway and gives you another heated kiss. It’s shorter than you want, Mikey pulling away before you’re ready.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere more comfortable.” He pulled his body away from yours, leaving you cold. He took your hand in his, pulling you behind him and towards the door. As you walk past the desk, Mitsuya looks up at the two of you, a small smirk on his face.

“About fucking time you two got togther.” you hear him mutter as you leave.

–

Mikey kept his hand on your thigh the entire drive back to his apartment, using his thumb to draw circles over your skin slowly getting closer to your core but never quite touching you, keeping you on edge and needing more.

He barely waited until the door shut behind you two to have his hands and mouth on you again. He pushed you up against the wall, his hands going to your hips, his mouth on yours. His kiss was frenzied, his tongue licking at your bottom lip, asking for entrance. All you can do is melt into him, letting him take what he wants from you.

You part your lips, his tongue tangling with yours. His hands move down to your ass squeezing, before moving down further to the back of your thighs. You lift them, wrapping your legs around his waist. You grind yourself against his already hard cock, needing more friction. Your hands wrapping around his shoulders, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

He pulls you from the wall, supporting your weight, and walking with you in his arms. His lips haven’t left yours, still kissing you as if you were his air. He took you into his room and only pulled away from the kiss to lay you gently on his bed. He loomed over you, raking his eyes over your form.

He groaned at how disheveled you already looked, lips swollen from the kissing and your eyes blown out with lust. “I’ve wanted to have you in my bed for so long, and now that you’re here, it’s better than I could have imagined.” Mikey murmured, leaned down over you and placed another teasing kiss on your lips before you could respond, moving off you again, just as quickly.

Your head was swimming with his words, but they were quickly pushed to the back of your mind as his hands reached for the edge of your shirt and you lifted up off the bed a little to help him get it off of you. Mikey eyes immediately going to your breasts, you reach around to unclasp your bra tossing it to the side.

You watch as Mikey licks his lips as he stares at your bare chest, before he leaned down and places teasing kisses around your right breast before taking your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around, making you moan. His free hand moves to your other breast, kneading it. Your hands in hair tug his head head up to have him look at you.

“Mikey, please, need you.” You breathe out, your hands reaching for his shirt trying to get it off of him. He helps you, lifting his shirt over his head. Your eyes roam over his muscles, watching them flex, and wanting to run your mouth over them. You shake your head, promising yourself that you would indulge in all your fantasies later. You hoped this wouldn’t be the last time you were with him.

His hands quickly moved to your jeans, unbuttoning them and looking up at you, seemingly asking permission. You nod, and Mikey quickly pulls them down, along with your panties. He drops them to the floor, unable to pull his eyes from your naked body in front of him. He takes off the rest of his clothes and you finally get to see his body, fully exposed to you.

His already hard cock makes you lick your lips. Mikey chuckles seeing this, “Next time, angel. Right now is about you.” He places his lips back on your neck, teasing his way down your body, before settling himself between your legs. He uses his hands to keep you spread, giving him the space to do what he wants.

Mikey places teasing kisses on your upper thighs, making you thrust your hips up wanting him to stop his teasing. He gives in and moves to place an open mouth kiss on your aching cunt, causing you to whimper, your hands threading through his hair.

His tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it lightly, you arch your back at the intense feeling. One of his hands moves from your thigh, pushing one of his fingers slowly into your pussy, your eyes rolling back. He pulls his mouth away slightly, “So tight, baby, gotta loosen you up if you want my cock.” He groans before you feel his tongue toying with your clit again, his finger slowly starts to pump in and out of you, building up a steady pace, before adding another moving them faster.

You can feel your orgasm getting closer as he plays your body like a finely tuned instrument. “Mikey, please need to cum, need it so bad.” You whine loudly, making Mikey groan, feeling your cunt clench around his fingers.

“Go ahead, angel, cum on my fingers. Want to feel you let go.” His words sound slurred, he curls his fingers and the pressure inside you snapes, your vision going white and your hands tugging his hair with the pleasure coursing through you.

He removes his fingers, his tongue moving to lick up all your release, helping you come down from your high. He sits up on his knees the moonlight streaming in from the window bathing him in soft light, making him almost ethereal to your hazy mind. His tongue darts out to lick your wetness off his face, lifting his fingers to clean them off as well. “You taste so good princess, could send hours eating this sweet pussy of yours. But I want to feel you to come on my cock now.”

You reach your hands out to him, wanting to feel him on top of you again. Not able to ask him with words, your mind still not functioning properly after your orgasm. He takes in the view of you fucked out in front of him, your breast bouncing with the quickness of your breaths.

He leans down, letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders, his arms resting beside your head, keeping some of his weight off of you, your mouths meeting in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, focusing on this kiss so much your breath hitches when you feel his cock pressing against your slit. He paused for only a second before pushing himself into your wet cunt.

You mewl at the stretch, digging your nails into his shoulders, trying to distract yourself from the pain. He groans at the feeling of your pulsing around him, your pussy feeling like it’s trying to pull him in further. He does his best to go slow, trying not to hurt you, but he can’t stop himself from bottoming out in one thrust. “So good angel, you feel so good around me.” He breaths into your ear, placing a small kiss on your jaw, breathing heavy from the pleasure of finally being nestled in your warm walls.

“Too much, s’too much.” You manage to get out, feeling tears gather in your eyes.

“Just relax for me, princess, relax so I can make you feel good. Y’er squeezing me so fucking tight.” Mikey moves one hand down your body, pressing his thumb to your clit slowly rubbing it in small circles. Adjusting to his size, you relax your hold on him. His thrusts start slow and shallow, before he works up his speed, pulling out more with each thrust, until only his tip stays in you, thrusting back into you hard, his tip hitting your sweet spot.

Your moans and whimpers spur him on, until he’s pounding into you. The tears gathering in your eyes start to fall as he abuses your sweet spot, his hand that was rubbing your clit moving up to massage your breast, his fingers rubbing your nipple sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Please…Mikey…need to cum, need it so bad…” Your words were slurred, barely understandable, tears still falling from your eyes, you can’t think straight with how good his cock is making you feel.

He removes his face from where he was nipping at the skin of your neck, seeing the tears on your face he leans in to kiss them away, never stopping the movement of his hips. “Go ahead and cum princess, wanna feel you make a mess.” His hand moved from your breast and up to your neck, squeezing just enough to cut off your air, but still leave marks on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

That was the last push you needed to fall off the edge, your mind blanked, back arching off the bed, as you moaned his name. Mikey groaned, feeling your pussy clench tight around him, pounding even harder into you, lessening his hold on your neck, but not letting go.

All you could say was his name, chanting it while trying to come down. Your nails dragging down his back as you feel the overstimulation taking over. “Mikey-too much, can’t take anymore.” You're sobbing now, all the feelings in your body clashing with each other.

“Yes you can, princess, just a little bit more. Want me to fill this little cunt up don’t you?” He kissed his way to your lips, before sealing them together, swallowing your whines.

“Yes, yes, fill me up, please, want your cum.” you try to say against his lips, not sure if he could even understand you. Mikey thrusts become erratic, seeking his own high. After a few more thrusts, the image of your face, so beautiful and fucked out underneath him, is what did him in.

He pushed as far as he could into you, not wanting to waste a drop of his cum, groaning as your pussy fluttered around him. You moan at the feeling of his hot cum spilling into you, making you feel even almost too full.

Mikey’s thrusts turned shallow, trying to keep his high as long as possible, not wanting the moment to end. He breathes coming quickly, his cock softening inside of you. He didn’t want to pull out, but knew he should. As much as he wanted to keep going his energy was leaving him, and he still needed to take care of you and make sure you were ok.

He fell beside you, putting his arm around your waist. “Are you ok, princess?” He murmured quietly, not wanting to break the peace surrounding you two now. The smile on your face, taking his breath away for a second. He knew that he was hooked on you, on your smile, your taste, even your presence.

All you could was nod at his question, your brain still muddled from the pleasure. He smiled at you, before rolling over and standing up. You whimper, thinking the moment is over, but he shushes you, leaning down to place a quick kiss on your forehead. “Just getting a towel to clean you up, princess, I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, Mikey was back a moment later, wet washcloth in hand. He was gentle as cleaned you up, the coolness of it felt wonderful against your heated skin. His eyes roving over your body, stopping on your neck. He could see bruises forming from when he choked you, a bit of guilt swirling in his mind. He took the cloth back to his bathroom, cleaning himself up while in there.

When he was done, he climbed back into bed pulling you close, and murmuring sweet words in your ear, helping lull you into a peaceful sleep. Mikey stayed awake a little longer, finger brushing up and down your back, sighing as you nuzzled your face into his chest. Your now even breathing and steady heartbeat helping him find his own way to sleep, looking forward to waking up with you in his arms.

#bodymodcollab☆#moot: katie 🌙#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #sano mikey #mikey smut #mikey x you #mikey x reader #manjiro sano x you #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x y/n #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev smut #emilia.writes🗡

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marshmallowdarling · 2 years

Note

Hi, I saw that you had open requests and I wanted to ask a Yan! Batfam HC:

How would a platonic Yandere! Batfam react to a foster sister who, well, doesn't grow very tall?

All the family memebers of the Batfam are, to least to say, giants. Even the shortes one is quite tall than the avarage height. (All of them, except the child version of Damian, are between 5'5 and 6'2 feet tall. )

But what would happen if his adopted little sister, who eats well, lives a healthy life, has no signs of illness and so on, becomes short in height? She is simply no taller than 5 feet and that's it. All of them grew up well! why you were the exception?

Would they worry that their little sister wouldn't grow up no matter how hard they tried, or would they be happy to have a "pocket edition" little sister?

Thank you so much for requesting Bub and I hope you like it!! I'm so sorry it took so long, I started writing this immediately but I felt like it was too short and I just said fuck it today and wanted to post no matter how short (thought I added a bit more) Also I turned this into GN reader because in the end there was only like two things indicating (Y/N)'s gender and I wanted to appeal to everyone, I'm so sorry if you strictly wanted female reader!! (tbh I wasn't reading it properly when I was editing this oop-)

And I hear what your saying!!! What an amazing idea to imagine,

~Mwah

I don’t want to keep the height strictly 5 foot just for the x reader element, I never want to force one body type into my writings (except for chubby) just because I want everyone to feel included and one body’s deformed shortness will be different to another.

But yes!!

I head canon that all the bat-boys have little snacks that they keep, some not as nutritional as others, but they all end up having more healthy snacks on them because of little ol’ you.

Sandwiches with whatever spread you like, more perishable sandwiches are only brought at short distances not missions (if so, they are bought fresh), cut up fruit, fruit snacks, the jelly beans you find at pharmacies with the red and white cross on the bag, bottles of water and little cartons of juice of whatever flavour you might prefer that day (trust me, Alfred always somehow knows what flavour you’re going to like that day).

I feel like they would all worry about your short height to an extent, Bruce being the worry wart, constantly getting you checked out every two weeks, making sure you take vitamin gummies (because let’s face it, they’re better than pills and I will NOT take pills).

Second to ol’ Brucey is Jason, he died- and he probably freaks the FUCK out when you keep growing but you don’t show any signs of getting taller. At first, he keeps assuring himself that you’ll grow.

“They’re just a late bloomer”

“May- Maybe Their just short!”

“Why arn’t they growin- Oh my god is (Y/N) dying?! I told that old man to kidnap them earlier!”

Oh, Jason definitely watches you when you sleep (like the rest of them) and furrows his brows, trying to figure out an answer to why you’re so small.

The rest of them do have lingering thoughts but they can see Bruce dragging you to the doctors every other week and they make sure your on top of your meals and medicine so they don’t really outwardly do anything else. Tim definitely does poke at your height as a joke, but it does help his delusion of you needing him, like the rest of the fam. All of the boys definately try to 'secretly" show of their strength around you so you rely on them more, though you figured this out quickly and it's somewhat amusing to see them show off their muscles like a peacock.

If you do feel bad about how you look the rest of them will shoot Tim down immediately and praise you up and down. Some of the other more silent boys might do this in a more discreet way but rest be assured your getting the floor you walk on kissed. They might even let you have very light work outs! (Without any equipment) though it usually turns into you sitting on their backs to help them with their push ups or holding their feet so they can send you a compliment or tease as they come up from a sit up.

Foster! Reader is fed a lot- Full plates at every meal, breakfast, lunch and dinner is ate and there is a strict ‘NO SKIPPING’ policy. Even if it’s just a few bites, even just one, your ass better eat and after a fit from you because you watched your siblings skip their meals without any harassment or scolding, the rest of the family now has the same rule as you (much to Bruce’s chagrin after trying to make his kids have a normal eating schedule since forever.)

Overall they would just be a bit more strict with eating rules and making sure you feel good in your body, but other than that mostly the same.

Aww your just a little thing, you wouldnt survive in the real world cub. Hu? What do you mean "the doctor says I'm healthy and fit?", you might be but your still oh so small and you need your family to protect you! Can't you see how weak you are compared to our big beefy bodies? You don't have to worry your cute little head about it though! Your boys will always be here to take care of you.

#yandere #tw yandere #soft!yandere #softyandere #cw yandere #yandere x reader #chubby reader #darling core #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batfam x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic batboys #ask #foster reader #yandere gn reader #yandere chubby reader

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wannaeatramyeon · 11 months

Note

need more writing of taehoon asap!!!!

how about reader and taehoon go a simple date together, going to a cute cafe, and then them hanging out around his room?? 🩷

(add some teasing and suggestive things 🫥🫥)

-ps, can i be 🍫 anon?

Hi Anon! Thank you for requesting! Spoiler alert - you don't make it back to his room. Oof!! Edited to add of course you can be 🍫anon!!

Seong Taehoon x Reader: Two menaces walk into an arcade...

'cute' date with your boyfriend

Taehoon bites his tongue, and it's no easy feat.

He cannot cause a scene before you've even arrived.

Still. The girls seated at the next table must have a deathwish if they point their finger and giggle in his direction one more time.

In his periphery, he sees more staring... and a finger wagging at him yet again. He snaps.

"Fuck you looking at?"

Frustratingly, their giggles get louder and Taehoon wants to tear his hair out.

The braver one of the group, or stupidest - depending on how you look at it, approaches him. Sashaying over, confident and cocky, she holds out her phone. "Can I have your number?"

Taehoon scowls, leg twitching at her audacity. Just as he's about to tell her to piss off and maybe throw a kick her way to emphasise his point, he feels an arm around his shoulder.

"This one's taken. Fuck off." Tone saccharine and syrupy with a smile to match, even as you flip her off with your other hand.

"Excuse me?" she reels, aghast with your language and attitude.

"You're excused," You pull the chair out from under her, taking a seat as she stumbles out the way. "Now go."

As a last ditch attempt, the girl looks at Taehoon. Like he's the knight in shining armour that would save her.

Taehoon pulls out an expression that is usually reserved for you but he knows not many can resist. The one that walks the line between seductive and arrogance.

He arches a brow and lazily peers at her from beneath his long lashes, he smirks when he sees her gulp as his bad boy charm takes hold.

A last little bit of false hope before he lands the finishing blow.

"You heard my girlfriend. Now fuck off."

Really, he only had himself to blame when you plastered yourself to his back, finding the milky white skin of his neck far more fascinating. He doesn't move at all feeling your body pressed against him, distracted with unleashing a combo of moves.

"Quit it." Taehoon snaps as you nip at his neck, eyes still fixed firmly on the screen.

Afterwards, Taehoon had grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the arcade. A quick detour he had said, before you continue on your evening with him.

You were the one that suggested the cafe, both finding out once the food arrived that it was more suited for pretty social media pictures, the meal itself being tasteless and overpriced.

Reluctantly, you gave in. A truce for your shitty choice and his shitty encounter.

...There was nothing quick about it.

The detour turned into an hour of you hovering around, having circled the entire place five times, trying and failing to win yourself a plushie on the claw machine (which totally should be Taehoon's job, by the way), and now attempting to entertain yourself by watching your boyfriend knock out his opponent.

Yawn. You are very much not entertained.

Until now.

You go in for another bite.

"Seriously!" He shoves your head away with far less force than you deserve, then hand returning to its position on the joystick, not missing a beat.

You huff as he resumes his button mashing, but your patience and penchant for terrorising your boyfriend is almost on par with how much of a terror Taehoon is to everyone else.

Third time's the charm when you latch on, sucking away at a particularly tender spot. Taehoon's eyes flutter shut, the sound of his groan is drowned out by the game announcing 'K.O!", ruining his chain of victories.

Oops.

The computerised voice registers and suddenly you find yourself looking into the eyes of your very pissed off boyfriend.

"Do you want to die?"

You give him the smile of yours that you know he finds adorable but he continues to glare daggers. The vein throbbing on his temple does not subside. He will not be manipulated.

"Taehoon~" you try, your sugary sweet tone from earlier returning.

"No."

"No?"

He scans the arcade and your eyes follow.

Ah, you should have noticed that it had emptied out, not a body in sight.

The general public - usually your last wall of defence. Taehoon normally at least toning it down and somewhat behaving himself for your sake, caring about your propriety.

If no one is around though, that's a whole other story.

Taehoon fiddles with the hem of your skirt. You had thought it was particularly cute when you put it on this morning, and now you regret your hubris.

He looks at you, fangs bared and you gulp.

Shit.

A resounding SMACK lands on your asscheek, the sting causing you to yelp and your eyes to water.

Your hand immediately moves to cover your ass from any further assault, but Taehoon captures them both and holds them steady.

The bastard smiles. "Here's the attention you deserve."

Even through the pain, you feel a thrill of excitement as your mind wanders, thinking about what he would do to you in this empty arcade.

Taehoon all but abandons the game, focusing now entirely on you.

#taehoon seong #taehoon x reader #seong taehun #taehun x reader #seong taehoon #seong taehun x reader #seong taehoon x reader #taehoon seong x reader #how to fight x reader #how to fight #how to fight manhwa #how to fight headcanons #viral hit headcanons #viral hit manhwa #viral hit webtoon #viral hit x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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marshmellowtea · 8 months

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um. so. y'all are not going to believe this but i've had this goddamn fic finished for MONTHS but i fucking FORGOT??? IT WAS HERE??? IT'S JUST BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS BECAUSE I FORGOR I HAD THIS BASICALLY FINISHED FIC JUST WAITING TO BE EDITED AND PUBLISHED HGKLDSJFLKSD 😭

ahem. anyway. sorry for yelling lmao. onto the actual fic summary—basically, i decided to write this silly little thing about human, arospec lila trying to talk about a newly formed crush with an aroacespec will. it's very silly and fluffy and writing it made me giggle a lot, don't expect much angst here, aside from like a sprinkling of it for flavor lmao. that being said, small warning for some toxic queerplatonic partner vibes between will and lila, but the vibe is still mostly lighthearted, it's not too heavy or extreme. also, they're working on it, okay :') they're teenagers who grew up in abusive/traumatizing environments (which isn't referenced in the fic but it definitely shapes the way i characterize them), they don't exactly know how to navigate a healthy relationship yet but they're trying goddammit dskjfkdsafj

.....uh, if it's not obvious, i don't remember how i do summaries on tumblr fics ngl. there'll probably be a cleaner one when this gets posted onto ao3 in a day or two, so watch out for that if you'd prefer to read this on there :P tbh depending on how tired i am when i get home from work i might just go ahead and post it on there later today anyway oops

anyway, onto the fic now, hope y'all enjoy! :)

William's curled up on his side, his upper body in Lila's lap and her hands kneading though his hair in a way that mostly feels good, when she suddenly asks the question.

"Is it called a crush because you want to crush them?"

If this were closer to the beginning of their friendship, when he wasn't already used to weird comments like these from her, William might've sat up in shock, giving her a wide eyed expression of surprise she loves to make fun of him for. This is far from the most outrageous thing she's ever said to him at this point, however, so instead, he just furrows his brow and shifts in her lap a little, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Lila, what on earth are you talking about...?"

She's quiet for a moment, her hands pausing in his hair. He lets out a little whine at the loss of feeling, and she huffs softly before continuing, using a little bit more of her nails than she was before.

"Let's say...like...maybe there's this person someone thinks is...pretty," she says, the words awkward and stilted in a way he's never heard from her before. "And because they're so pretty, that person keeps...fantasizing about...squeezing them. In their arms. Or under them."

"Ew," he says on instinct, his fingers moving to fiddle with the black ring around the middle finger of his left hand. "Is this hypothetical person you, Lila?"

"No, dumbass!" she says, and, well, that almost sounds convincing. "I'm just...asking. For a friend."

"But I'm your only friend?" he asks, genuinely confused. His confusion then turns to pain, however, as she pulls on his hair—apparently she found that insulting. "Ow! Lila!"

"I have friends. Mainly friends you picked out for us—" and here, she huffs, sounding put upon about his choice in companionship, as though she has no choice in whether she hangs out with them too, "—but friends nonetheless."

...okay, admittedly, he understands where the offense came from now. But still, she claims that he's her only friend enough that of course he would make that assumption, and it's kind of not fair for her to punish him for words he's repeating from her. And also, he must reiterate, ow.

"Anyway, it's for a friend," she insists, sounding a bit wounded. "God. Don't be a smartass, Will, it's not flattering on you."

"I'm not trying to be a smartass, you're just—ugh, nevermind," he grumbles, letting his eyes flutter open and sulking at a vague point in the distance. His hand drifts toward the hem of her skirt, and he plays with it absently, rubbing his fingers over the soft fabric. "Putting all that aside, well...um, sorry to your friend, but I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that. I still don't really...understand all that stuff."

"Ugh, right, I forgot you were a fucking loser."

"I'm not a loser!" he protests, but he immediately feels childish for it. He flips onto his stomach to hide his face in her lap, and is instantly rewarded with one of her hands on the nape of his neck, a warm, comforting weight. "That stuff is just...really complicated..."

"Yeah, well, that's cuz you're a loser who's bad with people, it's okay to admit it."

There's a twinge of fondness to the insult, and despite himself, he finds himself smiling a little at her tone. Still, he decides to retaliate by lightly pinching her on the calf, just under the crook of her knee.

"Ow! Will!"

She then retaliates to him by pulling on his hair again, harder this time despite only using one hand this time. He lets out a sharp cry of pain and smacks her on the knee, pulling out of her lap briefly to escape her wrath. She drops her hands once he's fully off of her and sitting up on his knees, and he scowls at her unamusedly. She scowls back at him, the two of them staring at each other for a moment with equal mild annoyance.

Then, face unchanging, Lila pats her thigh, looking even more annoyed when he doesn't immediately lay back down. "Well?"

He huffs, but obliges, flopping back in her lap, this time on his back so he can continue to scowl at her. One of her hands returns to his hair, and the other one grabs one of his hands, though it feels less like she's just trying to hold his hand and more like she's trying to restrain him from pinching her again. Which, really, is super unfair, given that he only pinched her because she was being mean to him. And she pulled his hair first. And because she always does shit like that to him, and he deserves a chance to defend himself...

...but she is petting his hair in a way he likes again, and her face has softened a little, her lips now in that tiny but genuine sort of half smile he's only seen her use on him. He smiles back at her, wobbly and crooked but just as genuine, letting out a little laugh despite how genuinely annoyed he was moments prior.

"You're the worst," he says, and though he kind of means it he also says it with all the affection in the world. "I am sorry I can't answer your question, though."

"Hey, you also suck," Lila says back, but she coos it in the same tone you'd use on a mischievous kitten. "And it's fine, honestly. It wasn't a serious question, anyway. I was just wondering."

They fall quiet for a moment, and William's eyes fall to their enjoined hands, watching as Lila idly traces his fingers with her thumb. He's struck, then, with the oddest thought—that being, the thought that he does love her, in some weird way, despite the constant bickering and occasional minor physical attacks. That no matter how hard she makes it for him, he cares about her, and he wishes she would let him do that without constantly trying to fight on him on it. That he's glad she loves him too, in her own weird way, because he knows she does but he rarely gets to hear her say it out loud.

Not that he could ever say all that to her, of course. She'd probably just make fun of him.

Instead, he says, "If it is you with the crush...you know I'd be here to listen if you wanted to talk about it, right?"

He's fully prepared to let the conversation end there, but she surprises him by letting out a sigh and saying, "I don't even know if it is a crush."

He raises his eyebrows at that, trying not to get too excited at the information he was just given. She'd hate it if he said it out loud, but she's really easy to scare away on these rare moments where she's being open or vulnerable. "What do you mean?" he asks, trying not to let his voice soften too much.

She groans loudly at that, but she hasn't stopped talking, which, score. "I dunno, William, like...the crush question was kind of a joke? But it also kind of wasn't?"

"...elaborate?"

She groans louder, loud enough to startle him a little. She must feel him jump, because she gives his forehead a light pat before entangling her fingers back in his curls, the hair petting having mostly stopped now. "When I think about this person...I want to hold them as tight as possible and not let go. And squeeze their hand and just...hold it. And..." She grimaces, like it pains her to admit it. "And kiss them, maybe. On their stupid fucking face. Among...other things that I suppose I will graciously spare you."

She taps his ring as she says that, making him giggle. "Thank you. I appreciate that," he says, smiling broadly up at her for a moment, before his face falls back into an inquisitive frown. "Uh, but, Lila? I'm no expert, but that...kind of sounds like a crush? I think?"

Lila chews on her lip for a moment, as if considering what she's going to say next. When she finally speaks, William feels his heart cease to beat in his chest.

"I know, but like...a lot of that is stuff I want to do with you."

William feels his face grow hot, and he stammers, ice cold panic rushing through his veins. Yeah, he loves Lila, but it's not—it's not like that, he's not comfortable with—she knows he's not—

"Not the—not the sex stuff!" Lila says suddenly, giving him a harsh shake. "I didn't say I wanted to do all of that with you, take a fucking breath, Will!"

Oh, he did stop breathing for a second there, didn't he? He inhales deeply as she told him to, letting her lightly push him upright into a sitting position on the bed. He twists around a bit so the two of them are side by side, and she immediately tugs him closer until his head is on her shoulder, awkwardly patting his back in a way he thinks she thinks is comforting. It's a little much, honestly, given that his moment of panic really was just a moment—it was instant relief hearing that she wasn't into him in that way, and it was kind of silly for his brain to jump to that conclusion in the first place anyway since he mostly knows where they'd drawn the lines in their relationship, even if they've never properly talked about it—but he likes these rare occasions where she attempts to fuss over him, so he's not going to protest it. It's kind of sweet, really, even if it's obvious that she has no idea how to comfort another human being.

"Ugh," she says, sounding more embarrassed than exasperated. "Ugh, I said that in the stupidest way, sorry." Then, after a pause, she adds, "I mean...it's all just stupid, anyway."

"Aww, no it's not," William says gently, very comfortable in his place nestled against her side. "I guess I get what you mean though. I know I don't have a crush on you, but I like cuddling you and stuff. I'd also feel weird if I suddenly felt the same thing toward someone else but with...other stuff too."

"Yeah," Lila says, sounding mopey. Probably because she's moping, if he had to guess. "It's not just that, either, wanting to touch this person the way I touch you also feels...different. Different in a way that's hard to pin down." She grabs his hand, having lost it in the shuffle of him sitting up, and once again starts tracing his fingers, running her thumb from the back of his hand, over his knuckles, down to his fingernails. "Like when I do this, it's nice, but I don't do it and think about you as my boyfriend. That'd be disgusting."

William barks out a laugh at that. Technically, it could be an insult toward him, but... "I understand what you're getting at, yeah. I want to be close to you, but you're not, like, my girlfriend or anything, and I wouldn't really want you to be. You're just my friend, but, like...a friend I want to cuddle sometimes."

"Stop saying that we cuddle," Lila scoffs, but the usual harshness of her tone is still rather muted. "But...yeah. Exactly. It's different, and it's weird."

William hums sympathetically, giving her arm a light pat. "Yeah," he says quietly. "That does sound weird." Then, after a pause, "I'm sorry. I wish I could help you more."

Lila huffs, letting her cheek rest against his head. "I wish you could help me more too," she bemoans, interlocking their fingers and giving his hand a light squeeze. "But, whatever. Just talking about it was nice, so you're not completely useless..."

Once again, William just chuckles at that. He can hear the unsaid Thank you in her voice, and he appreciates it, even if he does wish she would just be straightforwardly nice to him sometimes. Hell, not even just to him, oftentimes he wishes she would be nice in general.

But...she's working on it. He thinks. There's been a notable difference in the way she speaks to Martha, Ellie, and Regina, anyway. She's still on guard around Jim and Mike, and god, he doesn't really know what her deal with Tanya is, but she's friendlier with those three, at least. And...she's been more gentle with him, too. At the very least there's been less pinching.

He's proud of her. Which is another thing he can't tell her if he doesn't want her to laugh in his face, but, hey. Maybe one of these days.

"...you wanna lay down now?"

Her question pulls him out of his introspection, and William hums in assent, finally pulling his head off of her shoulder. "Are we gonna take a nap now?" he asks, rubbing at his face absently. "I got pretty close to falling asleep before, well, you know."

She sniffs, pulling her legs up on the bed and stretching out behind him, her arms and legs reaching each end of the mattress before she rolls back onto her side and brings them back in again. "I mean, you can sleep if you want. I don't know if I will."

"You're not at all tired?" he asks, curling up on his side next to her. They're face to face, now, and he can see the exhaustion in her face, as well as the slight flush left over from their conversation.

"Not really," she sniffs. "I mean, I don't think I am enough to fall asleep. I just want to rest my eyes a little."

"Oh, okay," he says, scooting a little closer to her. "I might fall asleep. You didn't want to talk more, did you?"

Lila shakes her head rather than verbally answer, and William smiles to himself. She's probably going to fall asleep too, judging by the way she's gotten quieter, but even if she doesn't, he knows she'll let him sleep if he needs to. Unless something important happens. Or if she gets too bored, which is something important in Lila's eyes.

She kind of is the worst, but luckily for her, he kind of does love her.

He lets his eyes fall closed then, pressing further into her warmth until he's tucked up under her chin. She doesn't fight him on it, instead wrapping a loose arm over him, and he knows he's very close to drifting off when he hears her ask one last thing.

"You're really not going to ask who my hypothetical crush is on, are you?"

It's an interesting remark—it almost sounds like she's disappointed. Still, it's not interesting enough for him to open his eyes. "I kinda figured I wouldn't be able to get it out of you," he mumbles, his voice muffled by her collarbone. "Why?"

"...I dunno. I just thought you would ask," she says, starting to sound close to sleep herself.

"Did you want me too?"

"No." She says it too quickly. And then amends, "Maybe..."

He laughs sleepily, resting one curled up hand on the small of her waist, wanting to be closer, trying to absorb the warmth she's emanating—she's always run weirdly warm, while he runs weirdly cold. He tries not too think too hard about the way that makes them fit so well together. "Tell you what. When I wake up, I'll pester you about it as much as you want me to. Is that okay?"

"I didn't want you to pester me," she protests, scowl audible in her voice. "Just ask."

He laughs again, suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment. "'m gonna pester you so hard," he mumbles, picturing the dirty look he knows she's giving him despite his still closed eyes. "'m not gonna leave you alone until you give me answers. S'only fair."

"How's that fair?"

"I mean...you pester me when I try to keep secrets from you."

"I don't..." Lila protests, but she sounds amusingly unsure. "Besides, since when did you try to keep secrets from me anyway...?"

"Mm. I stopped tryin' cuz you'd always get them outta me."

"Well, that just sounds like your fault."

"...maybe you've got me there," he mumbles, chuckling softly. "I jus' think it's my turn to needle somethin' out of you this time, mmkay?"

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Lila grumbles, making him giggle more.

The two of them then lapse into a comfortable silence, aside from their quiet breathing. William is just about asleep when he feels more than hears Lila murmur something against his hair.

"Love you, Will. No matter what happens."

He smiles widely at that. She must think he's asleep—rarely does she say that she loves him without him saying it first. Even then, he usually receives it with a (nonetheless fond) eye roll, so hearing it now sounding so genuine is a nice treat.

"Love you too, Lila," he mumbles back, his voice slurred from exhaustion. "Love you so so much."

Given the way she tenses, he was probably right in thinking that she thought he was asleep. Still, she doesn't respond with a protest or a quip like she normally does, whether because of her tiredness, or maybe she just wanted to let a nice moment linger for once. Either way, he'll count that as a win.

It doesn't take him long to drift off after that, the smile not leaving his face even as he sleeps.

#who's lila #who's lila?#william clarke #lila #will/lila #queerplatonically but still. them :) <3 #also #implied lila/tanya #it's vague about who's she's crushing on tbh but that's the authorial intent lmao #if you wanna read it as another ship i don't really mind tbh but if i theoretically add another installment to this au just know #that that's where this is heading lol #marshy writes #this'll end up on the main account and not the side account cuz there's no agere and/or whump here #i mean some whump fics end up on main. it's about the vibes #but this doesn't have whump so that automatically puts this on main #and frankly i rarely post to my main ao3 account anyway so it needs some love okay #i know none of y'all asked but ahglkasdjfklds #on the off chance someone was curious? maybe?#yeah idk lmao anyway. expect this on ao3 soon 👍

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mezmerwrites · 2 years

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If You're In, I'm In.

A Steve harrington x reader insert.

Tw: alcohol consumption, drug use, smut if you squint, bad writing.

AN: this is my first fic so be nice if you point out mistakes lol. I also didn't edit this, oops. I have more parts of this fleshed out if this picks up, so send me an ask telling me what you think, or to be added to a tag list.

I originally wrote this as an !oc so if I missed anything while trying to change it to reader let me know. New ro reader inserts 🥲

I stood outside of Tina's house, leaned against the brick siding as I dug around in my jacket pocket for the lighter I swore I had stuffed in there.

I let out a string of profanities upon realizing it was not in my pocket and probably lost somewhere inside. I huffed in annoyance and was fully prepared to walk home at this point when a similar string of frustrated profanities pulled my attention towards the side of the house where a familiar voice was rounding the corner.

Steve Harrington stalled when he saw me leant against the house, an appogy falling from his lips. "Oh, shit. Sorry Y/N, I didn't know anyone was back here." His voice was a little shaky and higher pitched than usual, signaling he was upset about something. He started to back track, moving backwards and running a hand through his already messy hair, about to leave me alone again.

I waved him over, the joint still balanced between my lips. "No worries. Got a light or somethin?" I asked, offering to share if he could get it going. He looked like he could use it. In the dim light coming from a open window on the side of the house I could see his puffy red rimmed eyes and hear the slight sniffling coming from him.

He was upset.

He fumbled around in his own jacket pocket before procuring a silver lighter with a slight grin. He stepped over and handed me the lighter as he matched my stance, leaning against the side of the house. I took a moment to light the joint, taking long drag before passing it over to one of my oldest friends. "So, what's wrong?" I asked, lifting a brow as he took the joint from me, groaning at my inquiry.

"Dude, everything. It's just not my week." He began to open up, telling me about the current Nancy situation and the Billy basketball situation and the bad English grade situation. He looked defeated, especially the shitty part about Nancy, less so about the basket ball thing, and even less about the grade.

I let out a low whistle, taking the joint back from him. "Bummer." I offered softly, my smile even softer. Steve was a good guy underneath all that King Steve bullshit, and I knew he really loved Nancy, it didn't take a rocket scientist to see he was pretty torn up about it.

He hummed in agreement. "Yeah, It sucks. Ever been down in the dumps like this?" He asked as he took the now shorter joint from me, bringing it to his lips. He watched me as I shoved my hands under my arms in attempts to warm them up. I had worn a stupid playboy bunny outfit, matching with a couple of my friends and I regretted it the longer i stood out here.

I kicked the dirt under my shoe, shrugging. "Yeah, once." I answered with a breathy sigh. A half smile pulled at my lips as I recalled the gut wrenching heart break I'd suffered at the hands of Jason two months ago when I found out he'd been hooking up with Chrissy Cunningham while he was supposed to be meeting me for a date. "It sucks, but it gets better." I reassured him with a gentle smile, hoping it made him feel a bit better.

He passed me the almost out joint before digging in his pocket for his car keys. "Wanna get out of here? I have beers at home and the rents are out of town." He offered, an invitation I hadn't received in quite some time.

I thought it over for a minute, absent-mindedly looking towards the house party where my friends were dancing inside. "Yeah, let's go. I'm cold and I have more weed at home." He smiled a bit wider at the thought of having a pitty party at home in private instead of unfront of all of Hawkins high.

The drive was short, and as soon as we were parked I skipped over to my house next door to retrieve the goods and change into something warmer before meeting Steve out by his pool, using the gate on the fence that separated our yards.

He had an ice chest drug out, his feet propped up on it as he lit a cigarette between his teeth.

I plopped down on the other end of the pool chair, pulling the bag and papers from my hoodie pocket, along with the bottle of vodka I'd cracked open earlier in the night before the party.

It was several hours, one bottle of vodka, and two joints later and Steve and I were laying side by side, smushed into the same lounge chair staring at the sky, a thick quilt from inside draped over the both of us. Steve had just finished spilling his guts on the truth about Barbra, what had happened to that will kid, and what the upside down was and the monsters that lived within it.

At first I thought he was pulling my leg, but I realized he wasn't once he looked towards the pool with a haunted expression, and then started talking softer like someone might hear his confession and book him on the spot.

I wasn't sure what to say, so I didn't say anything for a while. I just laid there with my head touching his looking at the stars absorbing all the information he dumped on me. I cleared my throat after a moment and spoke once I decided on what I wanted to say. "So, you tried to kill it with a baseball bat that Dustin Henderson hammered a bunch of nails into?" I just couldn't get the mental imagine out of my head of how that played out.

Steve scoffed, "Out of everything I just said that's all you retained?" He nudged me with his shoulder, a dazed look in his eyes before returning them back to the sky.

I sighed, shaking my head, "No, I retained all of it..." I began to trail off, "That part just seemed less traumatizing honestly." I whispered, trying to picture the monster he described. I shivered imagining the rows upon rows of teeth.

Steve hummed, sounding spaced out like he was stuck in his head. "You know you can't tell anyone. I was swore to secrecy by the government, they'll kill you if you tell." He was definitely drunk, that I could tell from the way he talked during the whole story, but his tone was different now, a little scared. "Thats why I had to tell you out here, pretty sure my house is tapped or something." He mumbled, wiping a hand across his face.

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat, pretending like that didn't freak me out. "Don't worry, lips are sealed." I reassured him that I wouldn't talk about it, but part of me wished he didn't dump all that on me.

The other part of me wondered how he was holding all that inside in the first place. I snuggled closer into his side as the wind picked up, my nerves quelled for the moment as he rested his head against mine.

"Why did we stop hanging out?" He slurred softly, eyes not leaving the sky, "We used to be so close Y/N." He sounded sad almost, but mostly just drunk.

I sighed again, thinking about the complicated last two years. "I dunno, Steve. We just- people grow apart sometimes." I kept my tone soft, careful to tiptoe around his already bruised feelings about his very recent break up. "We never quit being friends, we just got closer to other people, it's okay and normal." I reassured him, turning my head to look at his side profile.

He tucked his other arm under his head, adjusting on the chair we were almost falling out of now. "Yeah, I guess." Was all he said before he fell silent for a long moment, swallowing hard before his next set of words hung in the air. "I didn't want to grow apart from you, though."

My breath caught in my throat at the softness of his words and how he shifted next to me, turning on his side under the warm quilt. The truth was I didn't want us to grow apart either, but when I started seeing Jason last fall he made it very clear I was not to hangout with Steve, or anyone else.

He studied my face, I could feel his gaze on me but I wasn't ready to turn towards him, his face was much to close to mine to be able to hide what I was thinking or feeling. "Was it because of jason? Or me and nance?" He asked gently, his warm hand skimming up my thigh, resting on my hands that were interlocked together on my stomach.

The sudden contact made me turn to look at him, my resolve on not talking about it faded as I took in the way his hair flopped over his forehead and into his eyes that were red rimmed and blown out from the drugs and alcohol. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my eyes back to his and away from his bottom lip that was pouted out.

"Jason." I whispered, tongue darting out to wet my lips. I didn't miss the way Steve's eyes lost focus on my own at the action.

I tried to clear my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "He, uh, He didn't like how close we were. He was threatening to put you in your place or break up with me so I just... quit coming around." I admitted, unsure now that was ever the correct choice.

Steve hummed, eyes ghosting down to my lips ever so quickly, but not unnoticed by me. "Jason is a punk, and wouldn't have got far with that." He mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Plus, it would have probably deterred him from doing what he did to you if he knew I was still in your corner." He sounded a little pissed off at the thought, which sent a tingle of something down my spine. Pride, maybe delight thinking about it.

I giggled at it, at him, and turned over on my side to face him. The hand he had holding both of mine slipped away, ghosting over my waist as his arm coiled aroind me, pulling me closer towards him as I almost teetered off the edge of the lounge.

The quick movement had me pressed against his chest, foreheads touching and legs tangled together. It felt too comfortable and normal, reminding me of the countless nights spent like this last summer.

He studied my face for a moment, hand moving from my waist to tuck stray curls behind my ear. "I think about that night all the time." His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes never leaving mine. "It was the best kiss of my life." He finished, the softness in his voice melted all the resolve I had.

I let out a sigh and leaned into his hand, big warm and as inviting as I remember it being. I didn't trust myself to say anything that wouldn't get me in trouble, I already felt the familiar pull in my chest and the desire to fall back into an old pattern. Steve moved slowly, his hand anchoring behind my ear and pulling me towards him as he dipped his head ever so lower as he pressed our mouths together in the softest of kisses.

Just like I remembered him.

It was soft, doting, the kind of kiss you wrote in your diary about. The explosion of tingles from his hand on my face and his lips against mine was mesmerizing. I kissed back, pressing into him just a tad harder, encouraging him on.

His soft kisses grew fevered, more urgency behind them as he shifted. His hand left my face and returned to my waist, the other one slipping under and between the gaps in the plastic chair to spray across my upper back, holding Me impossibly close.

The kiss was gradually building, soft pecks to more pressure, to quicker and faster. I couldn't resist the urge to flick my tongue out against his lips, gently asking for him to kiss me harder.

He complied, deepening the kiss but still letting me take the lead, letting me guide the kiss into a gentle and slow make out session to rival anything I've ever seen on TV.

I finally pulled away a few short kisses later, needing to breathe and cool down before I suffocated. Steve didn't mind, he just rolled, pulling me under him just slightly as his hand on my face pushed my jaw upwards to press soft kisses against my neck. "I should have never let you go out with Carver, you could have been mine all this time." He grumbled, not letting up on the soft presses of his mouth against my skin.

I relaxed into it, sighing as the thought rolled over me.

His. His girlfriend.

Wait-

His girlfriend.

"Steve." I breathed out a warning as I came to my senses, my hands moving to his sides, trying to ground myself back to reality and not dream land where he was mine.

He let out a deliciously soft groan hearing his name, totally not letting up and only taking that as encouragement as his lips parted, kisses becoming wet and sloppy now.

My body betrayed me, head falling back into his grip and eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. A soft whimper blew past my lips as I pulled together all the resolve I had in my body and pushed him roughly, remembering why this was a terrible idea brought me back to reality.

He lifted off me, his eyes confused and a little hurt looking as he started to ask me what was wrong. "Y/N, I'm sorry! I thought you wanted too- I mean you were kissing me and-" I shook my head, sitting up on my elbows as he shifted off me, halfway falling off the pool lounge.

I tried to steady my breathing, my mood shifting from perfectly content to wildly embarrassed. "Nancy." I breathed out, running a hand through my hair as I tried to push back the guilt washing over me.

Steve's eyes widened, his lips pink from my lipgloss fell into a small "o" shape, realization fanning across his body.

I struggled to find my next words, going for a sentence this time and not just one word. "I don't want to be your rebound and hook up with you when you're sad drunk about your ex girlfriend, it hasn't even been 6 hours." I grumbled, suddenly a little angry at myself for letting him con me into this position.

He immediately apologized, "You're right, that was a dick move wasn't it? I'm sorry Y/N." He half smiled, but I could tell his mind was somewhere else still as his gaze dropped back to my lips.

I rolled my eyes and pushed him all the way off me, standing up. Just as I was about to turn away his hand shot out and grabbed hold of my bicep, he tugged me back into his chest. "And I don't want you to feel like a rebound, okay? That's not what any of that was to me." His brown eyes locked on mine and he let his hand fall into mine, locking our fingers together. "Seriously, y/n! You're more than that to me, you know that." His voice was soft and tender, begging me to believe him.

I let out the harsh breath I'd been holding at his confession and leaned into his chest. "I know, but figure out what's going on between you and her before you decide to kiss me again." I instructed, pulling away from him before I decided not to.

I turned on my heel and walked through his yard and through the gate onto my own, feeling better with distance between us.

It was well after midnight by the time I got out of the shower and got in bed, head reeling as I touched my fingers to my lips.

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington hc #strangerthings x reader

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pagesofserene · 1 year

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Dec. 13th: 12-Days Before Christmas (2022 Story Relay Marathon)

Hi, kindred souls! This is the very first story relay of a 12-day story relay marathon I endorsed to my friend, ShiaraS (Discord: Shiara#5382) , that we will be doing from Dec. 13th to Dec. 24th—AKA 12 days before Christmas!

Since this is a marathon of sorts, we decided to lay some ground rules so we can "finish" each relay for each day. It would start with me drawing a prompt every morning from a plastic container that will serves as our bowl for this occasion. These prompts were collected by us from different sources (I will do my absolute best to give appropriate credit for the original creators/source material).

The story relay would then consist of 5 turns for both of us with a max. of 10-15 sentences each turn. After these, the story relay for that day would be considered "finished". THERE WILL BE NO EDITING DONE FOR ALL STORY RELAYS.

These rules were placed since ShiaraS' exams were also scheduled during the set week.

HERE'S THE WRITING PROMPT FOR TODAY'S STORY RELAY:

You just finished the ritual to summon a demon. However, your sacrifice was insufficient. Instead, they sent you their intern. (via @writing-prompt-s as submitted by @gearboxwritesbooks)

START OF STORY RELAY:

I furiously flipped through the grimoire trying to find out what I did wrong and how I could fix things. Because this is not what I wanted. I wanted to make a deal with a real demon, not his intern! This scrawny, over-gelled teenager in a beat up leather jacket who was trying very hard to look intimidating and failing by a mile. "What happened?!" I screamed at her, "What did I do wrong? How come I get you?" The intern rolled her eyes and walked to the edge of the pentagram on the floor. She swiped her finger on the line and put it in her mouth. She grimaced and spit it out. "Did you even check the blood you used? You think a demon will come for some cheap rat blood?" "Rat blood?!!"

"You know those cute fluffy dark crawling mammals with long thin tails and pointy noses and severe overbites? The ones that like to munch on substandard rotten earthly substances?" she explained as she flicks her porcelain pointed tail. I stared at her disgusted with how smooth and pale her tail and nails are. Definitely not a demon. "Those are rats," she finished with a flat dried-lipped smile. "I didn't use a rat blood. It's supposed to be a gallon of black stallion's blood." "Oops, I guess..." The intern shrugged and raised her brows. "How do I return you back? I want a REAL demon." I replied as I looked for an instructions— —"Hmmm... do you have a book about a botched summoning ritual?" "It's evocation for high ranking celestial entities. Summoning is only for spirits and lower class..." She grabbed the book I am scanning and smirked, "You're below an amateur then for summoning a demon intern."

I blushed a furious red. "Fine! I got the wrong book and the wrong blood but I'm still making a deal." She stared at me and the ... She laughed. The lights flickered. The dogs in the neighborhood started howling. "For an amateur who knows absolutely nothing about rituals and spells, you're pretty funny. So, for that, I will do you a favor by not killing you where you stand. Which, by the way, is the usual consequence for botched rituals." I know I should take the win and let the infuriating intern climb back down to hell. I shouldn't push my luck against her. ... ... But I'm desperate. One way or the other, I need to get something out of this whole mess. I've done too much to give up now. "If I can't make a deal with a real demon, can I make a deal with you? I'll do anything."

"You'll... do ... anything...you say," she folded her arms and her tail twirled glistening under the room light. "Y-yes." "You're that desperate huh," she turned her back and looked down at the pentagram on the floor. I bit my lip. I'll take it since I AM desperate. "So what can you d—" she cocked her head to the side still not facing me but her tail stopped moving and pointed at me "—I mean, what do you want in return" "Depends."

"De-depends on what?" "On what you want and how badly you want it." She smirked and for the first time that whole afternoon, I questioned whether what I wanted is worth whatever this creature from hell asks of me. My hand begins to shake and I make up my mind. "I... I'm a writer. I have good stories and I know I'm better than half the published authors out there but no one wants to publish me." "And let me guess, you want to be famous." "I want to be published. I want my words to reach millions of readers. I want my life to mean something." She stepped closer to me. As close as she can be while still being in the pentagram. Her forked tail rose and swept the braid off my shoulder. "That's easy enough. I don't even need to be a high level demon for that."

"H-How?" "First things first. You need to gather a handful of stuff before I explain it to you.", a dried pig's ear appeared in front of my face. I grabbed at it and could see scribbled list on it. I gathered my bag and keys and went for the door. "When you come back, I will give you my asking price for our deal." I nodded and closed the door locking it. I checked the list once again. It's a very short list, and a bizarre one. .... 10 gallons of blood from several sleeping beauties 2 Fountain pens from a dead holy servant 5 pounds of powdered gold fish scales .... I may be "below amateur" in demon casting but I am a veteran for scouting for what I need.

Whenever anyone read my work, I always felt a anxious over their opinion, that feeling multiplied ten times when I came back to my little apartment a couple of hours later and discovered the intern lying on her back while one of my manuscripts floated above her head. "That's my manuscript!" "Relax, I'm just reading it. If I'm going to make this world famous, I should at least know if I'll be torturing the rest of humanity with it. It's not bad, the bare bones of a good story are here but some of your metaphors fall a little flat." I bit my tongue, not wanting to say anything to offend the mercurial little demon. "I'll speak about it to whatever editor you get for me. I got everything on your list." She jumped to her feet, my manuscript following her movements. "Excellent. Now, in exchange for turning your little book into a best seller, you will work for me for 6 years. You will get me desperate souls willing to make a deal. One soul for each week your book is number one on the best sellers list." I paled. This wasn't what I wanted. I thought I would have to sell my soul, not drag others to hell with me.

"Are interns allowed to do that? How am I to know you're not using me to bypass any demonic rules for promotion?" I don't know what came to me but I feel almost confident to question this subrace of an evil entity. "For your information, despite the disastrous ritual you just did only demon interns who have been serving the longest and received the most merits would appear in place of a REAL demon. Hence, the lack of horns." She pointed to her head. "Sooo...", She continued, "you are in the presence of someone who is about to get her Horn of Demonic merit. Making you almost my very first human contract as a demon." "If you say so. I am just making sure I get the whole picture of this negotiation." I gave her a wry smile. This was even better. Way better than my initial plan. This was the moment I knew I didn't fail. I can now have my own demon slave for 6 years. Interns are still naive and this particular intern was too confident for her own good. I started to prepare all the ingredients she asked.

"I said fine powder. If you can't tell the difference between coarse and fine, no wonder you need to make a deal to sell your books." I gritted my teeth as I ground the goldfish scales some more. The intern, did not have faith in my potion making ability and it took it upon herself to watch over my shoulder. I ignored her as best as I could. I just reminded myself of the 6 years I would potentially have a low level demon in my pocket. Together, we finished the potion and under the light of the full moon, I soaked the pens in it as the intern chanted in an unfamiliar language. There's a bright burst of light and a shockwave that knocked me off my feet. When the light faded, the pens floated to me looking completely unblemished. "One of these pens is for you. Use it to write your stories by hand and they'll be a guaranteed hit." "By hand?" "Only the first draft, the copies can be printed if you're feeling lazy. But do not lose that first draft or let it be destroyed." I grabbed the first pen, anticipating the hand cramps to come. "And the second one?" "That is for the people you give me. They sign their contracts with this pen and their soul is mine."

1 week has passed and I had just submitted my manuscript earlier this morning. Each day for 5 days, I would led one person to see the intern and I arranged for them to discuss their desires & sign their contracts on the day I submitted my manuscript. The intern agreed to this arrangement given since they will make the transactions all at once. "It's one way to start your writing career with a bang, I guess", she chirped as she watched me rewriting my manuscript away from her. Few hours later, all the 5 people stood infront of each of the pointed corners of the pentagram while the intern stood at the center observing them. They each wrote their names on the dried pig's ear the intern provided. They then pricked their thumbs and put a bloody stamp of their fingerprint on the paper. The guileless intern's stature perked up. "There's no need for a blood pact. I am not yet allowed to do that anyway." "You are now to declare your desire to this lowlife." she whipped her head towards my direction in annoyance which instantly melted into alarm. "What are you doing?!" "By the remaining celestial hierarchy I still hold in this form, I command you to cast a binding spell tying this demon upon earthly planes!" Five glowing halos appeared above the head of the 5 fallen angels I located throughout the city. They then raised the blood-marked parchment and chanted an old Abrahamic prayer. "You tricked me!" "Oh dearie, didn't they warn you?" "You—"

THE END. OR IS IT?

Please stay tuned for the rest of the story relays we will be doing!

#story relay #writing prompt #story #december #marathon #demon #ritual #botched ritual #demon intern #writing #write

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake.

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful.

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much.

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps.

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok.

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce.

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way.

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

57. “Say it.”

84. “I’m gonna strangle you.”

“Is that a promise?”

notes; racer/street-racing!au, dom!jihoon, frustrated!jihoon, ‼️ car accidents ‼️, a bit of arguing, dirty talk, degradation, overstimulation, oral(fem receiving), fingering,, choking, jihoon being a tease as always! AAAAAND WE’RE BACK AAAHHH 🥺💕 I can’t believe my account took an extra long unplanned hiatus dkfjhskh I did take the time to just recharge which was good for me tho, I think! 😭💕💕💕 And now I’m ready to tackle drabbles and fics and prep for halloween~~ 😈 hehe also I do be thinkin about jihoon in a leather jacket sooo heh h0e hours are back yall! 🤣🤣 LMAO also this is a little long bc i got carried away oops 😗💕 As always, thank you so much for requesting! Enjoy!

Edit: NOT JIHOON POSTIN PICS ON WEVERSE AS I’M PROOFREADING THIS DKJHJKSH PLEASE SIR, I’M---I’M SORRY…. 😞🥲

Edit 2: this was in ref to Christmas In August GoSe!! from... last yr.... hahahah... ☠️

*queued post.

Jihoon curses as he shifts gears - car screeching as he drifts around the mountainside.

He’s almost to the end; a whopping $5000 waiting for him at the finish line.

But more importantly, the bragging rights of finally being able to beat Jeonghan in a race.

“Fuck, fuck fuck…”

His eyes peer into the rearview mirror to see Jeonghan’s car only a breath away from his own; body going rigid when he realizes his turn was too wide and Jeonghan’s car ends up on the inner side of the road just as his car grazes Jihoon’s when they both drift the corner together.

Jeonghan has the upperhand as he zooms past the younger male’s car for the umpteenth time and Jihoon can’t help but feel the dread filling his body.

“Goddamnit!” Jihoon’s fist bangs against the steering wheel as he does his best to pick his speed back up, but it’s too late as Jeonghan’s car zooms out of sight.

Regardless, he growls under his breath and shifts gears again - except this time, the unexpected slick on the mountain road has his breath stuttering when his car suddenly starts to hydroplane down the winding road.

“Oh fu---”

“Jihoon?”

“Mmnh…”

“Jihoon? Hey, c’mon, talk to me…”

“Ugh…”

His head hurts, and so does his ego; eyes blinking slowly as he adjusts to the light and your face hovering above him.

“Am I dead?” Groaning, he places his arm over his eyes as you scoff and roll your eyes at the male laying on the sofa in front of you.

“If you were, this would be a real shitty place to be right now. You’re laying on the sofa in Seungcheol’s car garage. But more importantly, are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Do we need to bring you to the hospital?”

“How bad did I fuck up my car? Is it totaled?”

He moves his arm before sluggishly making an attempt to sit up - eyes on you before he notices his leather jacket slung over the armrest and the bandages littering the coffee table next to you.

“Damn, it’s probably gonna take a lot of money to fix…”

“Ugh, Jihoon… Can you not worry about your fuckin’ car right now? Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? You literally slammed into a tree! You’re lucky you weren’t so fucking far from the finish line… They thought it was weird when you weren’t there after a few minutes and found you slumped over the steering wheel!”

Your brows are furrowed as you meet his eyes and he’s quick to sigh and run his fingertips through his hair.

“Cut me some slack - my ego’s fuckin’ shot, right now. I’ve never wiped out that bad. And no, nothing hurts, but the bandages say otherwise, so what’s my damage?”

You move to stand up, picking up the discarded items as you place them back into the first-aide kit.

“You have some scratches on your forehead but that’s it... I’m just worried, okay? That’s never happened before and it could’ve been worse. And on top of that, I wasn’t even there! Do you know how scary it was to get a frantic call from Seungkwan that you were in an accident!?”

Jihoon’s lips purse into a firm line as he watches you put the first-aide kit away.

He typically didn’t like it when you came to his races anyway - he thought you worried too much. But also, he had the exact fear of getting into an accident and somehow harming you when you had no part in paying for the consequences of his hobbies.

“I know, and it’s going to stay that way.” Grumbling, he stands up and stretches - joints cracking as he reaches for his jacket. “It’s fine if I get hurt, but it’s not if you do. I’ll be careful next time, okay? Just got caught a bit off guard, is all. I’m gonna go check the damage on my car now so if--”

You move faster than you anticipate; hand meeting his cheek in a quick motion as his head whips to the side.

“You’re an asshole, Jihoon.”

His fingertips reach up towards his stinging cheek; lips curving into an amused grin as he nods.

“‘Kay, I probably deserved that.”

Jihoon tosses his jacket back onto the armrest before shoving his hands into the pockets of his tight denim.

“So what, then? Hmm? You want me to sit here all annoyed that I not only lost to Jeonghan, but also wrecked my car and probably have to wait months to get parts? Not only that but then spend weeks fixing it... I’m not exactly jazzed right now, doll.”

The drawl in his voice pisses you off more than you anticipate when your body starts to buzz from the arousal from his cocky nature.

“Take your frustrations out on me then.” You whisper back; hands balled up into fists by your sides as he looks you up and down with a growing smirk on his face.

“Oh? That's how you wanna handle it tonight, baby? Say it, then. Tell me exactly what you want me to do instead of what I want to be doing right now.”

“Fuck me and forget about your stupid fucking car!”

Jihoon is still annoyed.

“Mmnh, fu--fuck that feels s-so good…”

Even when you’re moaning his name loudly and his fingers are knuckle deep inside your cunt.

He can’t take his mind off of his losses tonight as he growls and suddenly picks up the pace as he snaps his wrist quicker - scissoring and curling his nimble fingers right into your sweet spot as you clench around the slicked digits.

“Yeah? I’ll make you feel even better, doll.”

Jihoon leans in between your spread legs; tongue on your clit in seconds as you react by tangling your fingers into his blonde locks - tugging harshly as he groans against your wet skin.

“Oh, g-god! Fuck!” You grind against his fingers and tongue - chasing an orgasm that Jihoon won’t give to you anyway.

‘You’re only allowed to cum on my cock,’ he’d said, ‘If you even think about cumming otherwise, I’ll leave you right here, by yourself, while I tend to my car.’

So you do your best to behave; mentally telling yourself to calm down even when Jihoon flicks at your swollen nub with the tip of his tongue.

“Puh--please... Just f-fuck me... I--I can’t wait, ah, a-any longer... If you k-keep teasing, mmh, m-me, I’m gonna cum...” You whine; head thrashing against the sofa cushion as Jihoon sucks your clit into his mouth to tease you even more.

He feels your pussy clenching around his fingers even more, a tell-tale sign you were about to cum so he immediately stops - wet fingers sliding from your tight cunt and lips coated in your wetness when he slowly starts to sit up. His blonde hair in his eyes as he smirks and licks his wet fingers.

“So fuckin’ impatient for my cock, doll~ I thought I was the one that had a rough night? Yet here I am, answering to your every needy request, hmm?”

“So--sorry...”

He mockingly pouts at you; hands working to get his jeans off as he tsk’s.

“You're gonna be ‘cause now I’m gonna fuck you how I wanna.”

Your body jerks against the sofa from Jihoon’s harsh movements - toes curling behind his back as his cock slams into your cervix.

“Ngh, s-shit, I--fuh--fuck, w-wait--” Your eyes clamp shut as you cum unexpectedly; quiet sobs on your lips as Jihoon makes no efforts to slow down as he fucks you through your high.

He did say you were allowed to cum on his cock, after all.

“Aww, is my pretty ‘lil doll cumming just from my cock filling her up? Hmm? Such a dirty ‘lil thing - you love it when I fuck you hard and fast like this, don’t you? It always makes you cum so easily~”

He laughs cruelly as you whimper back in return; walls still fluttering around his cock as he slides his hands under your thighs and maneuvers your legs until they’re almost touching your chest.

“Mmh, l-love it when you, a-ah, forget about your s-stupid car shit and just f-fuck me s-stupid...” You lick your lips at the way the annoyed look on Jihoon’s face returns.

“I’m gonna strangle you.” He grits out, “Watch your tongue, doll.”

“Ngh... Ís that a promise? Fuck, it’d p-probably make me c-cum even harder... Mmh, my p-pussy is getting so t-tight thinking about it...” You clench around his cock as he groans and doubles his pace as he chases his high.

“Yeah? You wanna cum again? Is that what you want? Okay.”

He reaches between your bodies as he pinches and rubs harsh circles on your clit instead - mischievous eyes watching as your face contorts in pleasure when you feel another orgasm starting to build.

“O-oh, Jihoon, I--”

“Mm, you’re so fuckin’ wet and tight around me, doll... And you’re gonna feel even better when I cum inside your desperate ‘lil cunt and fuck it deeper into you.”

Your breathy cries mix in with his soft chuckles and he's quick to throw you into another mind-blowing orgasm as you cry out and clamp down onto his cock in a vice grip.

“You cum so easily, doll~ How many more do you think I can get out of you, hm? How many more times do you think you can cum before you’re begging me to let you rest~?”

You can barely hear Jihoon through the ringing in your ears and the blinding pleasure that has you momentarily blacking out; eyelashes wet with tears when you start to come down from your high.

“So pretty when you’re all ruined and messy under me, doll~ And you're right,” Jihoon licks his lips - eyes twinkling with lust as he stares down at you, “This really was a good stress reliever. We should do this more often~”

Jihoon takes his wet fingertips from your sensitive clit and slowly starts to slide them up your torso; gentle whimpers falling from your lips as your entire body trembles knowing exactly what he was going to do.

“J--Jihoon... I--hic--’m too sen--sensitive... I d-don’t, ah, know if--if I can c-cum again...” You slur out; head fuzzy and eyes hazy as you try to focus your eyes on his cocky expression.

“Mm, thought you said that me choking you would only make you cum harder, huh? Suddenly all bark and no bite after all that, doll? Have you had enough? Should I stop?”

His lithe fingertips wrap around the column of your throat - slowly adding pressure to the sides as you let out a shaky exhale.

"N-no... Don’t--Don’t stop...”

He snaps his hips expertly into you as he keeps his hand around your throat; periodically loosening his grip to let you catch you breath before he's tightening his grip again.

“I’m gonna cum inside your pretty ‘lil cunt. I wanna see you get messy for me, doll. I gave you everything you wanted tonight so it’s time for you to return the favour~”

Jihoon’s cock throbs inside your pussy; already having been on the edge of an orgasm after you had your first one.

“C-cum inside m-me, Jihoon... W--wanna feel your, mmnh, warm c-cum filling me up...” You moan out; body trembling and buzzing underneath him from the overstimulation.

He doesn't say another word as he works to get himself and you off once more - only your moans and his quiet grunts filling up the otherwise empty garage.

And it only takes a few more skillful snaps of his hips and his fingertips tightening around your throat once more before the two of you are cumming together; his cock sheathed in your warmth as he throws his head back in absolute bliss.

“Oh, fuck!”

“H--huh....?”

“Doll...?”

Your entire body feels like deadweight as you peer up at Jihoon; eyelids heavy as his smug appearance hovers over your face.

“Well, well, well... Guess we both decided passing out was on the schedule tonight, huh. Who would've thought I’d fuck you that hard.” He quips.

“S-shut up, Jihoon...”

“Or what? You gonna slap me again? I’d love to see where that gets you, doll~”

#woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #woozi #lee jihoon #woozi fic #svt fic

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all-hail-the-witcher · 3 years

Text

5 times geralt wrote jaskiers name wrong on his coffee cup plus 1 time he didnt need to: part 1

its @natskier‘s birthday and hhh nat fucking slaps and her birthday fic accidentally became a 5+1 and yeah. here's part 1.

___

ship: geraskier, modern

warnings: lamberts a bitch, geralt has feelings, jaskiers a little shit

editing: yes

words: 1.1k

genre: slow burn adjacent cause the boys are hella fucking impatient oops

___

“Geralt! Get your bitch ass up here and work the register!”

Geralt didn't even bother opening the door of the breakroom. “Fuck your boyfriend when you’re not on the clock!”

The door to the breakroom swung open and a very disgruntled Lambert glared down at him, arms crossed over his chest. One of his bright red curls fell out of his bun and hit him in the eye. Geralt had to hold his hand in front of his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

“If you paid attention, you’d know that Aiden is out of town. I’m going to the bank to get change you fucking piss biscuit.” Lambert pointed at him angrily. “If you burn the place down it’s coming out of your damn paycheck.”

Geralt groaned as the door slammed shut behind Lambert, but he still got up and walked begrudgingly to the front. Getting fired by his father would have been nothing short of embarrassing.

He made sure that his apron was tied correctly as he walked up to the register. Eskel was making the drinks, which was the job that Geralt usually preferred because it involved less interaction with the customers. But Lambert really hadn’t given him much of an option.

The bell above the door chimed and Geralt put on his best customer service smile.

“Hi, welcome to Kaer for More Coffee, what can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee. Large. Dark roast”

Geralt punched the order into the register without looking up. Then he grabbed a cup off of the stack, pulled the sharpie from behind his ear and scribbled the order on the side. The routine was so familiar he could probably do it in his sleep. Not that he would ever admit that though because then Lambert would definitely try to get him to do it.

“Name?” he asked, still not looking up.

Whatever the customer said got lost in the noise of the shop.

“Could you repeat that?” Geralt asked, looking up for the first time and holy fuck.

The man standing at his register was abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous. He had dark brown hair that was falling in his bright blue eyes and the little smile on his face that showed off his dimples made Geralt nearly melt. It took all of his willpower to not drop the cup in his hand and keep his eyes on the man’s face instead of the bit of chest hair peeking out from his scandalously unbuttoned, peach colored shirt. It was almost like he was tryingto make him swoon.

“Jasper.”

Or at least that was what Geralt thought that he said. Eskel chose that exact moment to knock over a sack of espresso beans.

Geralt clumsily scrawled his name on the cup. Seeing that Eskel was otherwise occupied and he didn't want to keep the attractive man waiting, Geralt went to grab him his coffee. It wasn't like there were any other customers waiting.

Geralt filled the cup, double and triple checking that he had the right roast before sliding the order across the counter.

“Jasper!” he called out.

The attractive man was standing on his phone, not making any move to come and get his coffee.

“Jasper!” Geralt called out again, hoping to get his attention.

Still nothing. The man was scrolling like his life depended on it and it honestly didn't help that he had the cutest look of concentration on his face: slightly furrowed brows and an adorable frown line creasing his forehead.

“Hey,” Geralt said. “Your coffee’s ready.”

This time the man looked up, slightly surprised to see Geralt holding out the cup.

“Is that mine?” He asked, gesturing to the cup.

Geralt nodded. “Large black dark roast.”

“But you didn't call out my name,” the man said, crossing his arms.

“Yes I did.” Geralt cocked his head in confusion. “Twice.”

The man took the cup from him skeptically, spun it until he could see the name that Geralt had written on it and laughed.

“Well darling,” he said. “I didn't respond because my name isn't Jasper.”

Geralt spluttered, momentarily distracted by the fact that such an attractive person had just called him darling. He tried desperately to ignore the swell of heat in his stomach. “But you said-”

“I didn't say Jasper.” The man took a sip of his coffee and tried and failed not to wince. Geralt didn't blame him. Black coffee was terrible. “I guess I’ll just have to come back tomorrow and remedy this issue, won’t I, uh,” the man squinted at his name tag, “Gerald.”

“That’s not-”

“Oh I know,” the man smiled, taking another large gulp of his disgusting coffee. This time he couldn't hide the wince at all. “I’ll get your name right when you get mine right.”

And then he had the audacity to turn and walk out of the shop. Without putting any milk or sugar in his coffee, Geralt couldn't help but note.

Geralt stared transfixed at the door that the man had just walked out of. What the hell had just happened?

Unluckily for him, he didn't have much time to ponder that because Lambert walked through the very same door not two seconds later.

“What happened, pretty boy?” Lambert asked, opening the drawer of the cash register and putting in the change that he had gotten. “Did that door tell you that your hair looks terrible straightened? Cause I’ve been telling you that for at least the last three years.”

Geralt opened his mouth to respond but Eskel beat him to it.

“A hot guy came in and ordered and Geralt wrote his name wrong on the cup.”

Geralt turned away from the door to hide his blush. The way that Eskel said it made it sound so much worse than it was. It had been an honest mistake! It wasn't his fault that Eskel had dropped the damn espresso beans right when he had said his name!

Lambert tisked disapprovingly. “Of course the one time you manage to find someone who actually likes that mop on your head, you don't even manage to learn his name. Now I can’t stalk him on Instagram! Geralt, you really need to be more considerate of these things.”

Geralt threw an empty cup at him.

“Fuck off, you know I’m right!” Lambert groaned. “And I could get you written up for harassment in the workplace! What if you injured me and I couldn't work anymore, huh?”

“Lamb, it was a paper cup,” Geralt sighed. “And considering our dad is our boss, he would have seen straight through your dramatics.”

Thankfully, any further retorts from Lambert were cut off by the bell above the door ringing.

“Hi, welcome to Kaer for More Coffee what can….”

Geralt used the distraction to slip back into the break room. He still had another 10 minutes left on his break and he fully intended to use them to mope over the fact that an attractive man had shown actual interest in him and he’d somehow managed to not get his name.

Lambert would never let him live this down.

___

hehehehe :)) dumbasses

tag list: (inbox me to be added)

@percy-jackson-is-sexy-

@barlowpng

@eminasan

@llamasdumpsterfire

@nonegenderleftpain

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

@geekymagicalpotato

@jaskierswolf

@toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account

@toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian

@littleredhotridinghood

@fontegagrilledcheese

@acemoppet

@lookatgeraltmyboi

@gods-oopsie-woopsie

@julek

@funkylittlebard

@dani-dandelino

@officerjennie

@kuripon

@alllthequeenshorses

@mothmanismyuncle

@dapandapod

#the witcher #witcher #witcher fic #witcher fanfic #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fanfic #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #modern geraskier #saph scribbles

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 8)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut... a minor injury... a motorcycle... a teeny tiny bit of angst?? honestly it's just pretty normal aside from the smut

You actually fell asleep without anything too untoward happening, just kissing and cuddling and whispers that didn't make much sense to each other but still made your heart flutter each time.

Waking up, though, was another story entirely.

"Arăți frumos în timp ce dormi," he mumbled into the crook of your neck, pulling your hips back so you could feel his hard cock against your ass. You hummed and snuggled up closer to him, bathing in his warmth as much as possible.

“I swear I’ve never slept so well in my life,” you mumbled as you reached back to run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you in my bed all the time so I can finally get some rest.”

He smiled against your skin, sucking on that spot just behind your ear that made your eyes roll back in your head. “Il vrei?” he asked huskily, and you didn’t even care what he was asking; when he said it like that, the answer was always ‘yes.’ You nodded happily, biting your lip, as he started to push your panties down and helped you arch your back so he could guide his cock to your entrance.

You still gasped and clutched at the sheets beneath you, you couldn’t help it even if it wasn’t your first time discovering how thick he was. It was just barely painful for one fleeting moment before it faded into that delightful fullness, his strokes long and slow as he sighed against your ear. “Seba,” you whimpered under your breath.

“Sunt mai bun decât el, nu-i așa? Nu te-a futut niciodată atât de bine,” he growled a little, holding you tighter. “Sper că știe. Sper că știe că am făcut dragoste cu tine și că sunt îndrăgostit de tine.”

You couldn’t be sure if it was his words in your ear or his arms so tight around your chest that made it a little hard to breathe, but something was so different about the way he was speaking now than you’d ever heard him before. It was difficult to describe— not quite angry, but so passionate it could almost seem that way. You could feel it in the way he moved inside you, too; he was clearly holding back, like there was a storm beneath his calm surface.

You wanted all of it. Turning back, you kissed him and pulled his hair a little, hoping it would get the point across. It seemed to, considering how he gasped and sped up, fucking you harder and deeper as you moaned a little louder than you meant to.

“Când a fost aici, am vrut să te sărut,” he continued in a low voice, speaking right against your parted lips. “Am vrut ca soțul tău să vadă. Am vrut să te arunc în patul ăsta și să te fac să țipi, pentru ca toată lumea să te audă. Am vrut să știe că sunt eu.”

“Yours,” you said before you could stop yourself, and thankfully you didn’t have to worry too much about the implications of it because he couldn’t understand what you meant. He grabbed your face anyways, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he stared into your eyes.

“A mea,” he purred, fucking you faster until you started to whine and arch your back harder.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered, but he nodded before you could finish, encouraging you with whispered words and a hand slipping down between your legs to rub your swollen clit. You cried out, instinctively reaching out to grab his arm, but he held fast and kept up the pace, sending you tumbling over the edge before you had really prepared yourself for it. Unintentionally, you held your breath for a few moments as it washed over you, the tension releasing finally with a long sigh.

The very moment you began the denouement from your peak, he pulled out and rolled you onto your back, slipping right back in as he slotted his body between your legs. You whimpered and gripped his shoulders, and he got right back to his pace— but this time your body couldn’t take as much of the force and so it began to rock the bed, his headboard slamming into the wall. At first neither of you cared until he glanced up and hissed, “rahat.”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and craning your head around to see he’d clearly damaged the wallpaper there. “Oops,” you giggled, “guess we should take a break and fix that—”

He pushed you back down onto the bed as you yelped, capturing you in a hungry kiss; one arm slipped under your shoulders, holding you tight, while the other reached up so his hand could grip the headboard and hold it still as he started to pound into you again. You moaned weakly and relaxed in his embrace, feeling the bed still rock slightly under you but much more interested in the feeling of his cock slamming right into the most sensitive and overstimulated spots inside your channel.

“Oh god,” you sighed as you couldn’t stop your head from falling back into the pillow, closing your eyes to dodge the way he stared down at you with an intensity that bordered on fury. He moved in to bite at your neck instead, and if you were any more in touch with reality you would’ve complained that you didn’t bring many clothes that would cover his bite marks, but you were much too lost in the sensation he was bringing you for that.

“Atât de bine, atât de bine,” he chanted with a growl, “voi veni… atât de aproape…”

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please, Seba— yes, right there, oh fuck!”

You came again, technically, but it was nothing like the first time— more shallow but less brief, like the pleasure was spread thinner and wider, until you worried your vision would go completely black. He grunted loudly as he filled you, still thrusting roughly with each pump of his release into you, but finally he slowed and sighed, his breaths coming hard and fast as he let go of the headboard and held you tightly.

He seemed exhausted, honestly, and you laughed breathlessly as he collapsed on top of you. “You can’t be so worn out this early in the morning,” you scolded as you kissed his shoulder.

“Nu voi mai părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he groaned.

“At least let me up so I can shower!” you protested, trying to push his limp weight off of you and failing pitifully as you laughed.

“Nu, nici tu nu vei părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he cooed, covering your face in kisses as you laughed harder. Only when you defensively pinched his arm did he pull back and pull out, letting you slip out from under him.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised as kissed him on the cheek, dashing to the bathroom and getting one last glance at him shaking out his sore hand before you shut the door.

Chapter 38 done… only five more to go, if your outline was to be trusted (which it most certainly should not). Still, you were finally reaching the real height of the tension, the climax of the story likely to hit as soon as the next chapter.

But it wasn’t what you were expecting. It wasn’t what you thought you would write when you sat down here months ago and began with page 1. In fact, it was better.

You sighed a little, looking away from the typewriter for the first time in maybe an hour or more, glancing out the window where the sun was starting to set and painting the whole countryside in an orange glow; but it wasn’t the only thing making the leaves change colors— fall was undeniably on the way, enough so that poor Sebastian was raking leaves already. And, because evil is a real and powerful force in this world, he had started wearing a shirt while working outside.

Not that it wasn’t still buckets of fun to watch him go: you found yourself leaning against the window frame to drink in the sight of him, smiling widely to yourself as he sighed and wiped his brow.

All of a sudden, he turned and caught you ogling, making him grin and you laugh with embarrassment. He waved at you, and you waved back, resigning to getting back to work for just a few more pages…

The creaking of the stairs made you realize someone was coming, but with Sebastian just outside it could only be Mrs. Alberti. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you ran to the closet to rifle through your sweaters, hoping to find something with a high neck. Nothing looked long enough, making you groan in frustration.

She knocked on the door and you jumped slightly. “One moment!” you called out to her, digging up a random scarf and throwing it around your neck to hastily cover the bruises Sebastian had left on you. “Yes, come in,” you finally sighed with relief as you threw yourself back into the chair.

“Good evening,” Mrs. Alberti smiled sweetly as she peeked through the crack in the door, “I just wanted to offer to cook dinner here tonight. I’m making a big recipe so I figured I might as well, unless you had your own plans.”

“No, that would be lovely,” you nodded, “thank you.”

“Just come downstairs in about, oh, fifteen minutes and it’ll be ready,” she explained.

“You don’t want any help in the kitchen?”

She scoffed a little. “From you?”

You chuckled at her brutal honesty. “Okay, point taken.”

“Sorry, dear, it’s just that I wouldn’t want your… Western sensibilities to muck up the recipe,” she defended.

“I can’t blame you,” you smirked. “I’ll be down in a quarter hour.”

She nodded and shut the door again, leaving you to unwrap the itchy scarf from your neck and let out a slow breath.

Of course, with an imminent deadline you couldn’t actually get any good work done, so you just read back over some older chapters and made a couple simple edits. All too soon, you checked the clock and realized you should go ahead and make your way to the kitchen.

You took a deep breath as you stepped into the entryway where the smell of Mrs. Alberti’s cooking emanated through the rest of the house. It brought back memories of when you were here with Michael and she cooked for the both of you. Those memories were wonderful once, then soured, but now you were coming to appreciate them again. Although, it was easier to enjoy them when you imagined the black eye your soon-to-be-ex was likely sporting now.

You took a seat at the table and let her serve you, even though it made you feel a little guilty; you knew she would never let you serve yourself when she was cooking.

“How’s your novel coming along, dear?” she asked as she took her own seat and you began eating.

“Well,” you began with a little sigh, “stories have a mind of their own, Mrs. Alberti. All this time I thought I was writing a thriller— something scary, gritty, maybe even tragic. But I’m coming up on the end of it and I’m realizing that all this time, I’ve been writing a romance.”

She smiled, glancing behind you to the doorway. “Yes, things have a funny way of turning out differently than we expect.”

Wondering what she was looking at, you turned to find Sebastian leaning against the wood frame, wiping his hands on a towel. “Bună seara,” he greeted.

“Sit down, Sebastian, have some dinner,” she offered to him as she stood up to pour him a new portion of soup.

He nodded and sat at the table, “multumesc,” he mumbled when she put a bowl in front of him.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, everyone eating their meals quietly. It was nice to have a moment of normalcy— your new normal— after such an eventful day previous.

“So,” Mrs. Alberti broke the silence unexpectedly, “you two had sex?”

You instantly spat out your sip of soup, making Sebastian give you a concerned look; you waved dismissively as if to say you were fine, though you coughed a couple times. “I… uhm— how did you—?”

“He was whistling while he gardened today,” she explained, “and you look the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“To be fair, I think the first thing is because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you added with a little laugh.

“And the second thing?”

“...at least partially because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you admitted.

“Fair enough,” she chuckled, “but don’t think I don’t see the way your shoulders aren’t so tense and you’re smiling all the time. I know a woman in love when I see one.”

“L-love?” you questioned instantly, choking on the word.

“Oh, honey,” she sighed, almost a look of pity on her face, “did you not know? It’s all over your face.”

You took a slow breath and pondered your meal before taking another bite. “No… I knew,” you admitted, “I guess you just put it really bluntly.”

She smiled. “It’s how we do things in Hungary. You should be honest with him.”

“With what words?”

“Sounds like you don’t need them,” she smirked. “I’ll leave you two be, then. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

She bid Sebastian goodnight with a little wave, and he nodded back happily; with the back door shut as she headed to her own house, you two were alone again. He took a sip of his soup and you finally noticed the marks on his spoon-holding hand.

“Your hand…” you realized, pointing to it, remembering with burning cheeks how he got that injury.

“Ah,” he smiled, looking down at the purple knuckles and smiling as he rubbed them gently. “Un sacrificiu demn.”

After dinner, you picked up with some reading (so much more relaxing than writing, believe it or not) and Sebastian joined you for the same on the couch.

Just laying together like this— quiet, relaxed, and totally at peace— was igniting feelings inside you that you had gone without for so long that you’d forgotten they existed completely. Resting your head on his chest, between the unbuttoned halves of his shirt, you could hear his heartbeat and it was soothing yet invigorating somehow.

He held his book up over your head while you used one hand to hold yours open and read through the space between his chest and his arm. It wasn’t the most ergonomic position necessarily, and your arm was definitely getting tired, but it was worth it to be close to him in these little ways.

"Book?" he asked innocently after a long stint of silent reading, setting his own aside to look down at you.

You closed your book and looked back up at him, resting your chin on his chest. "The book I'm reading? It's good," you nodded (as much as you could without stabbing him in the sternum with your chin, that is).

"Nu, book ta," he clarified, poking your forehead, before making a motion like he was typing.

"My book!" you realized. "Yes, the book I'm writing, it's nearly done…"

Your heart started to sink inside your chest.

"And when it's done, I'll go back to London. Like I planned from the beginning. And it'll be published and I'll start from scratch at a new life… alone.”

You cleared your throat and looked away. “Ești în regulă?” he asked quietly, sounding concerned.

You shook yourself out of it, smiling back up at him. “Let’s go into the city tomorrow,” you decided. “I need some things, if I’m going to be staying longer…”

He seemed to appreciate that you were telling him something, but couldn’t determine what. “Nyíregyháza,” you explained, “let’s drive into the city.” You pantomimed a steering wheel to explain yourself better.

“Ah,” he nodded, “nu într-o mașină. Îmi luăm bicicleta.” He returned with the motion of steering a bike— and when he curled his fingers to rev the proverbial engine, you realized he meant a motorbike. “Motocicletă,” he smiled.

“You drive a motorcycle?” you realized with a little gasp.

“Da,” he grinned, a little more mischievous than before.

“Oh, you really are gonna be the death of me,” you laughed. “Let’s go see this bike of yours.”

He helped you up off the couch and escorted you to the shed across from the house, the last light of sunset just barely enough to illuminate the way. You knew he worked in here sometimes, but you never realized he was doing mechanic work— indeed there it was: a motorcycle, right by Mrs. Alberti’s car, clearly quite old but restored to decent condition. “Iată-o, fetița mea,” he announced as he raised his arms to present it to you.

“Wow, you’ve been working hard,” you realized as you looked around at all the parts and tools strewn about.

“Avea nevoie de un alternator nou și ceva de lucru în interiorul motorului, dar acum funcționează la fel de bine ca nou... dacă nu chiar mai bine,” he enumerated as he knelt down in front of it, grabbing a towel to rub a spot of dirt from the headlight. “Vrei să conduci acum?”

You tilted your head.

“Acum,” he repeated, standing up and pulling you closer, tilting his head back toward the bike. “Sa mergem acum.”

“You want to go for a drive now? It’s pretty late, I was about to go to bed,” you protested meekly.

“Haide,” he smiled, stepping back and pulling you with him. “Plimbare pe spate.”

He handed you a helmet that had been resting on one of the handlebars, and you dutifully put it on as he got on the bike and fiddled around with it for a moment, kicking out the kickstand and finding his balance before getting it to start with a roar that echoed around the shed. He beamed proudly, looking up at you. “Eh?” he prompted with a nod.

“Yeah, it sounds great,” you encouraged with a thumbs up.

“Ce mai face casca?” he asked, leaning forward to knock his fist on your helmet lightly, making you laugh.

“Yeah, it’s good,” you nodded.

“Atunci alătură-te mie,” he instructed as he patted the seat behind him. You took a quick breath and got on, wrapping your arms around him. “Mai strâns,” he mumbled, pulling your arms in to hold him tighter. You smiled and rested your head on his back, yelping slightly when the bike lurched forward and he steered you out of the shed and into the grass outside. He was very slow at first until he steered to the gravel road, at which point he instantly picked up speed until the wind whipped at your face. His unbuttoned shirt was flying in every direction, leaving him totally unprotected from the night air, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding fast as he took you down the road, hugging the turns letting the headlight illuminate only as much as he needed to see.

When you looked up, you could see the stars more clearly than ever. You sighed and hugged him tighter, amazed at how they didn’t move at all while the world on the ground flew by. It made sense, obviously, with them being millions of miles away, but it was jarring how different the speed of the world could look from different perspectives. And as exhilarating as it was to see the countryside roll by in a blur, you preferred the steady night sky; you didn’t want to think about this moment flying by, about the fleeting nature of all of this. You wanted to believe this would always be here, just like the stars. You wanted to focus on the things that would never leave you, the moments that would become lifelong memories, and not on the reality of how beautiful things are not usually permanent things.

“I love you,” you whispered against his ear, quiet enough for your words to be blown away into the night. A small tear left a hot trail on your chilled skin, blown back over your temple instantly by Sebastian’s acceleration.

In silence, you drove into the unknown with him, letting yourself forget about the rest of the world for just a little while longer. You deserved that.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au

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sunflowersteves · 3 years

Text

feel your touch || g.r.

summary || Geralt wasn’t used to your gentle and soft touches, but he never wanted them to stop either.

author’s note || ok this is dedicated to @borkingbarnes because it’s v much inspired by this post and bee u are a wonderful amazing human being for thinking of touch starved geralt. hope you all enjoy!!

warnings || so much fluff, insecurity, touch starvation, soft!geralt, some angst, NC-17, not edited (oops)

masterlist

Geralt of Rivia was a plethora of things. He was a warrior, a tracker, a magic holder, a skilled fighter, and a monster hunter. But, he wasn’t a passionate lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. In the one-hundred years he has been alive, he’s never had a lover.

He’s had little nightly adventures with many women to cease any tensions he had. They were one singular night, the sheets pooled around him, and whoever was in bed with him. And every single time, there was always a mutual agreement that there would be no attachments except that of sweaty bodies.

He had previously thought that emotions got in the way of things. Feelings and sentiments always get him in some type of trouble, so he vowed never to let them get to him. He always chooses to hold people at least five feet away from him at all times, even close friends like Yennefer and Jaskier.

That is until you came along.

You were like a breath of fresh air, light and flowing in the sunny breeze, but you were also a force that crashed up against rocks during a storm against the ocean shore. It had shocked the stone cold Witcher that you had held such an effect on him.

It struck him so suddenly, like lightning; it was fast and hard. He thought of things he had never done so before. His mutated heart beat faster and faster when all you did was grin at him underneath the sunlight.

He suddenly wanted to be a good lover for you, and Geralt had no clue how to deal with such feelings. He had never dealt with such desperation to be near you, such wanting that surrounded him constantly. He wanted to hold your hand when you walked along a market, laughing and talking casually. He wanted to press his face against your thighs as you fiddled with his long hair. He wanted to feel your warmth radiate onto his cool body while you read a book with your back pressed up against his chest.

He wanted to feel your warm skin against his, basking in the sweet sensations of you. He wanted to give you everything; the desire to please you struck deep within his soul.

Due to the lack of experience in such longing touches, he had struggled quite a bit. He struggled not to let his muscles tense when you lay a hand on his shoulder in comfort. His lungs restricting the air in them at the sensation of your lips peppering faint kisses on his chest. The strange phenomenon, however, was the fact that he loved your touches.

He loved the way the pads of your fingers ran down his spine. He loved the way your heat seeped into his skin. He loved the way your softness caressing his rough skin. Despite all of the times his body had betrayed him, he loved it.

You were reading some of your spells, trying to memorize every detail about them. For a short while, you didn’t even notice the Witcher make his way to bed. However, Geralt never got comfortable and only sat on the edge of the bed with his back turned towards you.

Your sweet, honey-filled voice interrupted his intruding thoughts. “Why are you so tense, my love?”

He let out a long sigh, eyes flickering towards yours before fluttering down to his lap. You could tell that he wanted to say something, but his mind was betraying him leaving him with a blank stare as he twiddled his thumbs.

“Lay down.”

There were a few beats of silence, his back still shining before your eyes. You knew he must’ve had something troubling him even further if his ears ignored your presence. He rarely would ignore you of all people. It was as though he was incapable of it; his mind was constantly filled with thoughts of you.

“Lay down, Geralt.”

Your tone was much sharper than before, the hints becoming more of a demand than a question. He blinked before doing as he was told and laid on his stomach. His eyes fluttered close when he felt you lay on top of him, your legs meeting the end of his back.

His mutated heart starts to beat a little faster, your lips gently kissing the nape of his neck. He felt vulnerable as his cheeks scrunched up against the feathered bedding while your lips skated across his skin.

Your finger mindlessly started to trace a large scar, and his body immediately reacted by shivering from your delicate touches. He couldn’t help but let out a whimper as your hands caress his back, rubbing back and forth.

Your body lifts itself at the sound. Your mouth hung open slightly in surprise. You weren’t expecting such a sound to erupt from him, more or less from the massive stoic Witcher. For a split second, you could have sworn there was a hint of blush that rested on his cheeks, most likely from the embarrassment of the sound he had made.

Nonetheless, you ignored it and continued to poke and prod at his tense muscles. Your hands worked their way from the top of his shoulders—grinding and digging to elevate the stress he was so clearly under.

A moan escapes his lips, and you giggle, trying to dig even further into his muscles. You could tell that he felt good; his lips curled into a small smile.

“Your hands are wonders, little dove.”

You laugh slightly, warmth spreading in your chest as a groan slips past his lips. Your hands kneading the sore battle-scarred muscles had felt like heaven. His skin burned with each touch you gave.

You stop for a second before prompting him to roll over. He looks at you teasingly, watching as you try to lift him. He was like four men in one, so it was hard to get him to budge. Finally, he turns over and shares a couple of giggles with you.

He lets out a small gasp as you immediately go to kiss down his chest, his hair slightly tickling your lips. On days like these, Geralt would normally wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses along your body. However, he just stared at the thatched ceiling while his breaths became shallow.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“I just… I feel as though you deserve more.” Your heart broke a little at the sullen look on his face; the furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes told you everything. All you could do was softly smile and take his large hands into yours.

“You are stubborn, yes. You lack emotion more than anyone I’ve ever met, you’re thick-headed, and you have the worst of tempers.” You pull his head up to look at you. His eyes slightly widened at the burst of adoration that flowed between your glistening eyes. His stomach churned with pure glee while you squeezed his hands, “But those qualities that you always deem as negative are what I love about you. My love for you isn’t as simple as a want or desire. My love for you is by what you do and how you live. You are my life, my love. You are my stars and my sea.”

He just stared at your face. His eyes flickered between the crease of your brows, the hollows of your cheeks, and the plumpness of your lips. At first, you thought he was going to kiss you passionately, but he just held your face in his hands.

“I’m never letting you go, dove, ever. Anyone will feel my wrath if they disagree otherwise.”

“Hmm, that better be a promise, my love.”

witcher: @lenalxvegood @harrysthiccthighss @borkingbarnes @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire

geralt: @harrysthiccthighss @borkingbarnes @doozywoozy

permanent: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @teenagereadersciencenerd @rebekahdawkins @hailmary-yramliah @buckybarnesplumwhore @stardust-galaxies @wiccanmetallicrose @keithseabrook27 @hereforthesunrise

#geralt of rivia x reader #Geralt #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill characters #henry cavill x female reader #nc 17 #Witcher #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n

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leossmoonn · 3 years

Text

No Weakness [Spencer Reid]

masterlist

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

type - fluff, lil angst

request / note - “where the reader is new to BAU and they see dead body first time, and it kinda bothers them. and spencer noticed it, even when the reader tries they best no show it (bc they’re scared it makes the look like they’re weak) so when they’re just two of them spencer tries to make them feel better and tells them its okay and it does not make them weak.” this was so fun to write, ahhh! thank you @avrilstaro for requesting <3 *not edited lol oops*

summary - you’re embarrassed after freaking out from seeing a dead body, but spencer assures you that it’s okay

warnings / includes - descriptions of mutilated body, small description of case (child kidnapper case for this fic), crying, anxiety, nausea, little fighting, food mention. you and spencer are dating in this

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“I can’t believe I didn’t get to sleep in,” you mumbled, throwing your purse down on your desk rather roughly.

“Not like you would’ve anyways. Ariel was meowing for you five minutes before we got called in,” Spencer stated.

“So? I would’ve fallen back asleep after,” you shrugged. “You would’ve stayed up all morning playing with her, babe,” Spencer chuckled.

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do! You’ve done it every morning since we got her,” Spencer argued.

You scoffed, shaking your head at your boyfriend. You trudged over to the coffee machine, getting out a mug the size of a bowl and filling it to the brim. It was already your third cup of the day, and while it was probably unhealthy drinking that much coffee, you needed it. It was your first week on the job and you still weren’t used to waking up at five in the morning for a surprise case. This was your second case, though, so you weren’t very surprised that you were still tired. You knew you would get used to it as time went on, but you wished that your body and mind would adapt faster.

“You’re coming on the field today.” Emily nudged your arm with a file.

Your eyes widened and you sputtered out coffee, coughing to try and clear your throat. Emily chuckled, patting your back gently to help you. You set your coffee down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand once you got control of your breathing.

“W-What?” You asked, the words Emily said not processing in your brain.

“I said you’re coming onto the field today,” she repeated.

“B-But…” your trailed off, trying to find a reasonable explanation. “I-I wasn't supposed to be on the field for another week. I’m still technically in training.”

“Well, part of the training is going on the field. You’re an amazing agent in the office, L/n, but you'd be even better on the field. You’re able to sympathise with the unsubs and solve the puzzles faster than most of us can, sometimes faster than your boyfriend. You’ll help us a lot better out there than in here.”

You chuckled nervously, heat crawling up the back of your neck. “Thanks, Emily, but I’m not ready.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “That’s what all the new agents say. You need to just get out there, and there’s no better time to do that then early in the game.”

“I guess,” you muttered, lifting your coffee cup and taking a sip.

“You’ll be fine, Y/n. I have no doubts,” Emily smiled.

“Thanks.” You have her a small smile. “No problem. And hey, don’t tell Spencer I said you’re better at the job than him,” she winked.

You laughed and nodded, “I won’t, I promise.”

She walked away, leaving you to lean against the counter and to drink the rest of your coffee before going to the briefing room.

“So, I heard that Newbie is finally coming along with us today!” Luke exclaimed.

“Newbie is your nickname, Newbie,” Penelope narrowed her eyes at Luke. Luke rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, you excited?”

You sat down in one of the chairs between to Luke and Matt. “Not really, if I”m being honest.”

“Oh, why? You’ll be great!” Matt smiled. “So everyone says,” you sighed.

“Hey, I heard you’re coming with us today. Can’t wait to have you on the field.” Spencer smiled as he walked past you.

“Yeah, I’m excited to outsmart you, too,” you smirked.

“Oh, Reid, looks like you have some competition!” Luke teased.

Spencer shook his head and looked at you through his lashes. You gave him a challenging look, leaning on the table.

“May the best agent win, Reid,” you dared.

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Better have no weaknesses, L/n.”

“Oh, I have none,” you smirked. Spencer replied to you with a hum, giving you an excited smile before paying attention to the case.

Penelope and Emily delivered the case to you six, then leaving you all to pack up your things as you were going on the jet. You got out the small duffle bag of clothes you had in your car for traveling on cases, also grabbing your phone charger and the case files. You walked up onto the jet, placing your bags up over the overhead storage area. You got seated across from Tara and next to Spencer.

You all talked about your plans to catch the unsub and where you all were assigned to. Tara, you, and Spencer were going to go to the crime scene to scope out the area. Emily and JJ would stay at the police station and work there, while Matt and Luke did witness and suspect interviews.

You were sitting back in your chair, looking out the window and admiring the sky as the jet flew through the clouds. You still had an hour before you landed. Everyone was either sleeping or listening to music. You had thought about going back to sleep, but it seems as though the three cups of coffee you had finally kicked in.

You regretted drinking so much coffee because now, your heart was racing and your hands were shaking. You weren’t sure if it was totally because of the caffeine or that you were nervous about being on the field for the first time, but you assumed it was a little bit of both.

Spencer, who was seated next to you, noticed your jitteriness. He closed his book softly, setting it down on the floor next to his seat, turning to you and taking your hands in his.

Your head snapped to him quickly, your eyes landing on his. He gave you a soft smile, beginning to rub his thumb over your knuckles.

“You’ll do great out there, alright?” He assured.

You sighed, turning away from the window and to him. “What if the lead I find doesn’t work? What if I can’t figure out where the unsub has the kids? O-Or what if I embarrass myself in front of the police chief?”

Spencer chuckled softly at your concerns, making you frown.

“Don’t laugh! Hey, I bet you had all these concerns when you first joined.”

“I did,” he admitted. “But, I learned that I worked with a team. It’s not just me doing the work, just like it’s not just you. You have seven people working with you on this. Try and relax, baby, alright? You do amazing work at the office. This won’t be any different.”

You scoffed, “Please. It’s like, a million times different.”

“Just try and relax,” he instructed, putting your hand up to his lips.

You smiled widely, your heart fluttering as he kissed your hand.

“Plus, even if it was just you working the case, I have no doubt you would figure it out quickly.”

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled and leaned your head against the headrest.

“Of course. I love you,” he said, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Oh, gross. You guys know I just became newly single,” Tara scoffed.

You laughed and turned to her. “That was like, nine months ago.”

Tara raised her brows, looking at Matt and Spencer, and back at you. “You weren’t even here back then. How do you know this?”

“I just know things,” you winked. “Yeah, well I’m betting someone blabbed,” Tara grumbled.

“We would never,” Matt disagreed. “Mhm,” Tara hummed, going back onto her phone.

You smiled at you teammates and looked back at Spencer and putting your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes for a few moments, opening your eyes again. You blinked rapidly, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You rolled your head around, your eyes settling onto Spencer who was back to reading his book. You turned your head back to the window, furrowing your brows as you noticed you weren’t up in the sky anymore.

“Oh, good. You’re up,” Spencer spoke, putting his book away.

“Are we here already?” You asked, your voice croaky and hoarse.

“Yep,” he nodded. “We landed about ten minutes ago.”

“Oh,” you frowned, sitting up and getting out of your seat. You stretched your limbs, yawning once more as you held your hand up above your head. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” You sighed.

“You’re just so peaceful when you sleep. I couldn’t,” he explained.

You smiled and went to get your luggage. “Thanks, Spence. But everyone is probably waiting for me now.”

“No, it’s alright. We can’t go and see the crime scene yet anyways.”

“How come?” You asked. “Not prepped for us,” Spencer answered.

“Since when does a crime scene need to be prepped for the FBI?” You snorted.

“You’d be surprised,” Spencer let out a breathy chuckle.

You put your duffle bag over your shoulders and handing Spencer his, holding your hand out for Spencer to take. “Join me down the stairs?”

“Of course,” he grinned, standing up and taking your hand into his and his bag.

You two walked off the jet, going over to the SUV. Spencer drove you two to the hotel where you dropped off your things, immediately going to the police station.

“ ‘Bout time!” Matt exclaimed, seeing you two walking through the doors.

You chuckled, “Sorry. Looks like the coffee wore off and I finally crashed.”

“It’s alright. I think the scene is ready for you guys to look at now,” he said.

“Great,” you smiled.

You and Spencer found Tara, going into the SUV once again, driving to the house where the parents were killed and children taken.

“Wow, I’ve never seen this much yellow tape in my life,” you chuckled. “Yeah. It’s definitely not an eye sore,” Tara chortled, stepping over the caution tape.

You and Spencer followed her, going up to the police offers that were talking at the front door.

“Hi, we’re FBI agent with the BAU. I’m Doctor Tara Lewis, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, and Agent Y/n L/n,” Tara introduced you all.

You smiled and shook the two officer’s hand. “Nice to meet you two.”

“Likewise. I’m Officer Santiago and this is Officer Reynolds. The parents were killed in two different places. The father in the bedroom, mother in the oldest child’s room.”

“Lovely. Can’t wait to see,” Tara smiled sarcastically.

“Oh, I bet. Go ahead and go in, let us know if you find anything, please,” Reynolds said.

You nodded and stepped into the house, cringing at the heavy smell of bleach.

“God. It’s like a hospital in here, but twenty times worse!” You held your nose. “I should’ve told Emily I needed to stay back with Penelope.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” Spencer smirked. “Wait until you see where they all got killed.”

“Ew, Spence!” You shrieked. “You’re supposed to protect me from all that.”

He chuckled, “All part of the job, baby.”

You nodded and sighed, knowing that he was right. As always. You three walked up the stairs, looking at where the father was killed. There was an enormous amount of blood of the bedsheets and some on the corner of the right nightstand, some splatters that were below on the floor.

“So,” you started. “We’re looking at a team, right? I mean, there’s no way that the unsub could kill the father without the mom noticing.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking’,” Tara nodded. “Well, I could be possible,” Spencer contradicted.

You and Tara looked at each other, confused.

“Yeah, how?” You asked.

“Well,” Spencer said, walking over to the bed. “The unsub could’ve choked or suffocated the father in his sleep. I mean, there were ligature marks around his neck, right?”

“True. And the mom was saying goodnight to her children, so she obviously didn’t see her husband get killed,” Tara added on.

You furrowed your brows, stepped out of the parents’s bedroom, going to the child’s.

“Yeah, but, what about the kid? I mean, wouldn’t it have screamed and fought and ran out of the house?” You asked.

Tara looked to you, eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah, that is a good thought. So… unsub number one is killing the father while unsub number two is kidnapping the mom slash killing the child…”

“No, that wouldn't work. Maybe it’s a group of three?” Spencer suggested.

“Maybe,” Tara shrugged.

You stepped into the child’s bedroom, scrunching your nose as a foul smell wafted under your nose. You walked around, covering your nose with your sleeve. You saw the blood on the bedsheets and nightstand table.

“Looks like the unsubs all have the same MO’s,” you muttered.

You opened the closet, seeing nothing but toys, clothes, and shoes. You closed the doors, looking around the walls, your heart sinking as you saw all the finger pantings and pictures of family and friends. You walked up to the wall, losing your balance as you tripped on a a long, soft object.

You let out a yelp, falling on your shoulder. You groaned in pain, turning on your back while holding your injured side. You looked around for the object you tripped on, frowning as you couldn’t find it. Something pale caught the corner of your eyes. You raised your brow, getting up on your knees and moving closer.

“What the —” You muttered, your voice getting caught in your throat as you realised it was an arm sticking out under the bed. “Oh, my —” You gasped, peering under the bed, seeing the dead body of one of the children. “Oh, my God!” You shouted, scooting back, your back hitting the wall as you stared at the lifeless body. Tears welled up in your eyes and you put your hand to your mouth, loud and broken sobs escaping your throat.

The boy couldn’t have been more than a few days old, yet it was still lying there. You could see the lifelessness in his eyes, and still the fear. There was a slit across his throat and cheek, his upper chest red with with green and purple bruises. You felt nauseas and cold, your heart sinking all the way down past your stomach. Your body was shaking and you couldn’t tear your eyes off of the body, no matter how hard you tried.

You heard the footsteps of your colleagues, their voices calling your name.

“Y/n, where are — O-Oh, my God.” Spencer’s eyes widened as he saw you crying on the floor. He immediately dropped down to his knees, taking you into his arms. “What happened.”

You were unable to move, your eyes staring wide at the body. Spencer followed your gaze, his own heart dropping down to his chest.

“Oh, man. Um,” Spencer said, looking away from the body and to you. His heart broke as he saw you so horrified. He put his hand on your cheek gently, turning your face so you were no longer looking at the body. “Let’s get you to out of here, alright?”

You nodded slowly, your breaths becoming laboured as you tried to calm yourself down in Spencer’s arms. He got up, taking you with him. He walked you out of the room, coming face-to-face with Tara.

“What happened?” Tara gasped.

“Looks like the unsubs left the older boy. Tell the police officers, I need to get Y/n out of here,” Spencer said.

Tara looked at you, nodding without hesitation. She let you two go, Spencer walking you down the stairs slowly. You exited the house, still taking heavy breathes as the image of the boy haunted your thoughts. Spencer gently got you seated into the car, buckling you in. He went to the driver’s seat, getting in and starting to drive.

You two sat in the silence for thirty minutes while Spencer drove around. You looked at the window the whole time, your eyes glossy and strained from crying and keeping them open. Whenever you closed your eyes, even to just blink, flashes of the dead boy raced through your mind. Spencer waited patiently for you to speak, understanding how shocked and horrified you were.

He parked in a Burger King parking lot, sighing and looking at you. He gingerly put his hand on your shoulder, only for you to shrug him away.

“Y/n,” he sighed.

“No,” you grumbled. “Take me back.”

“I think it would be smart if you took the day off. Seeing a dead body, especially a child’s and one you had no idea exited, can really throw you off. The first time I saw a dead body…. Man, I-I was sick to my stomach. I—”

“Shut up!” You exclaimed, waving your hands in the hair. You looked at him, your chest heaving up and down. Your brows were furrowed and mouth open, your eyes glaring at him. “Just shut up, Spencer!”

His mouth went agape, hurt flashing though his eyes. He didn’t let your outburst dampen his spirits, though. He knew you were embarrassed and still horrified, and that you didn’t like to feel belittled. So he gave you a small, comforting smile, taking your hands into his. You didn’t move away this time, but you avoided any and all eye contact.

“I know how you feel, babe,” he sympathised. “Yeah, I bet,” you muttered, your voice hoarse and dry.

He frowned and unbuckled, leaning closer to you. He put his hand on your chin, turning your head with strength and force. You eventually met his eyes, his smile dropping as he saw tears rolling down your cheeks once again, your lips pulled into a pout.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured, cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“N-No, it’s not,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “I-I’m so weak. I should’ve been ready. This is what I’ve been tra-trainging for and I suddenly turn into a freaking wuss? I-I… I… It’s so embarrassing!” You shoulders racked with sobs as you hung your head down to cry.

“Oh, baby,” Spencer sighed, taking your head in both of his hands. He held your head up again, bringing his face close to yours. He put his forehead against yours, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “It’s no embarrassing, alright? Your reaction was a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a dead child’s body. Honestly, if you didn’t cry and freak out, I would be worried,” he chuckled.

You gave him a watery smile, laughing with him. “Y-Yeah, I s-suppose,” you sniffled. “B-But,” you started. “I-It makes me look weak. And I don’t want to look weak, Spence. A-All my life I’ve been told —”

He smiled widely, leaning back so he could look you in the eyes. “You’re not weak, Y/n. You never could be, even if you tried. You’re just human, and that’s fine. It’s amazing, honestly. You know, I am so proud of you, babe.”

You frowned, “Why?”

“Because today was your first day out on the field, and you did fantastic. It can only get better from here.”

“Y-You really think so?” You sniffed, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“I know so,” he nodded confidently. “And it’s okay to show weakness, Y/n. No weakness is the real weakness.”

“Such wise words,” you laughed. He laughed with you and he shrugged. “I try.”

You laid your head back on the headrest, looking a him through tired eyes. “Thanks, Spencer. It really means a lot.”

He nodded with a smile. “Of course, honey. Now, why don’t you say we get something to eat, then go back to the precinct?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Sounds great.”

He nodded and buckled himself back in, putting his hand on the gearshift and looking to you.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

You smiled shyly, heat scorching your cheeks. “Yeah, I know. You’ve already told me.”

“Just making sure you know, baby.”

————

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seijoh-apologist · 3 years

Text

stupidly in like with you | miya atsumu

pairing: post-timeskip!miya atsumu x f!reader word count: 14.6k (OOPS LMFAO) genre: friends to lovers, fluff, hurt(?)/comfort, and like a few too many pages of fluffy smut -- third person pov for the most part. NSFW. synopsis: Atsumu and Y/N are good friends, maybe feelings are involved but Y/N isn’t his type. OR Y/N and Atsumu are most definitely in like with each other but for whatever reason aren’t dating.

A/N: hi so this is my first “published” hq fic but like here is this thought that I had and haven’t been able to get it out of my head. it’s mostly edited thanks to my irl friend but bare with my run on sentences and (slightly excessive) use of profanity. any feedback would be appreciated b/c I have more thoughts for other characters and I'd love to share haha.

To say Y/N was annoyed was an understatement.

Aching feet begged for relief, the sweat-soaked shirt, though cute, had begun to cling to that one fold in her side that made her the slightest bit hyper aware of the “stress weight” she swears she's put on during the holiday season. And the music was absolute shit, shuffling between mash-ups of the Top 100 trending songs and some weird EDM-Indie music that she would pay good money to never hear again.

To put it plainly, she was not in the mood to be out of her home, much less celebrate. But she had agreed to come out, never being able to say no to Sakusa, who silently pleaded with his eyes to take on “babysitting” responsibilities of his teammates for tonight. He had paid for her dinner several times before tonight, claiming that she should save her money - “you should spend your money on getting a better mattress, so we don’t have to hear you complain about it anymore.” - the least she could do was give him a night to himself, away from the chaos that was the rest of the MSBY team.

Besides, it's not like she was asked to stalk them or anything - they were friends after all, so really it was just like she was tagging along for a night of club hopping, taking shots that she didn’t have to pay for, and simply people watching in between trips to the dancefloor. And normally, she’d be enjoying the night - it's just that of all nights to come out and celebrate, it had to be at the end of one of the most stress-inducing, aggravating weeks of her young adult life.

Checking that it was well after one in the morning, she sipped water from her straw, swivelling to face the crowd from her (stolen) seat at the bar, in hopes of catching the attention of someone in her party that could get the hint that they should probably get ready to go. What she did not expect to find, however, was Atsumu, flitting his eyes away from her figure as he leaned down to talk to a pair of girls. It could just be a friendly gesture, asking him if he was who they think he was and him responding but it sent a less than pleasant feeling in her stomach, so she swiveled back, reaching for her phone in the back pocket of her suddenly too tight pants.

“Fuck me,” she huffs out upon seeing that her phone battery has fallen to thirty percent, which would be just delightful when it would be time to call the ubers home. She could now rule out aimlessly scrolling through Twitter for the rest of the night while waiting for her friends.

“Uh.. maybe slip in a ‘please’ and I’m yours.”

Y/N’s eyes all but bugged out her head at the response that came from her left. The voice belongs to a guy, a very cute guy. The kind of cute guy that you see on Instagram explore page before it refreshes so the chances of seeing him again are nonexistent.She sputters out a delayed apology, double-time since she realized that she’s now taken a little too long to respond to him, to which he laughs and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I should be apologizing for interrupting you, it's just.... You looked a little lonely over here. Mind if I sit with you?”

“Seat’s all yours... but you’re on your own if those people from before come back to reclaim them.” She hums, sliding her phone back into her pocket and shifting her legs slightly in the direction of his seat.

“Scared of a little fight?” He hums, arching a brow before taking a swig of his beer. He has nice hands. Y/N muses to herself as she watches the stranger’s fingers flex slightly around the neck of his beer bottle. She’s always of the mind that a person’s hands say a lot about them.

“Mmm no… just too tired to defend myself, much less a random stranger.” He laughs at that, nodding his head before replying that “most pretty girls don’t openly say they can fight.”

“Oh you’re cheesy, aren’t you? Nobody straight up tells a girl they’re pretty for no real reason.”

“Actually,” Shifting his beer bottle onto the bar, he holds out his hand to her. “My name is not cheesy, it’s -”

“Y/N! There you are!”

The call of her name makes her jump slightly, before she feels the familiar warmth of a hand on her back. The same hand worms its way to her hip, fingers slipping into that soft fold just above her pants, the warmth of his next words being felt just above her ear. “Where the hell’ve ya been? Was lookin’ all over the place for ya, Bo and Shoyo were worried ya left without us!”

“Been right here, idiot. We lost our original seats so I’d figure you’d come to the bar at some point and I could’ve waved you down.” She shifts slightly, turning her shoulder back towards the cute stranger with an apologetic look in her eye, to which he smiles and opens his mouth to respond until Atsumu cuts him off again, his hand gripping the back of her neck to make her give him her total attention.

“Right well I’m starving - let's get outta here. Kinda craving your infamous drunk noodles, or maybe a McDonald’s on the way home, yeah?”

Y/N nods slightly, turning back towards the stranger to see that he’s already slinking back into the crowd. Once she fully loses him, she shoves her elbow into the blonde’s side, telling him to “shut it” when he throws out a huff of pain.

“Thank you, ‘Tsumu… could’ve had a different ride home but nooooo.. Needed to come in here with all your glory talking about you being starving despite the fact that you can afford a personal chef.” She huffs out and slides off her stool, but he’s not listening. Instead he’s holding her by the shoulders and pushing her through the crowd, excusing the two of them as she continues to rant and rave at him. Once outside, the pair are joined with the rest of the party, who have called a few separate ubers home. “And to top it off, I know you’re not even listening right now - you never listen to me, Miya. I don’t know how your teammates put up with you… how do you put up with this shit, hmm?”

The group of teammates laugh softly and shake their heads, giving answers that “they get paid” to put up with him, and that Miya Atsumu is actually “a decent friend,” a fact that she knows is true but chooses to ignore when convenient for her. Atsumu just shakes his head with a roll of his eyes, pulling her into the direction of their uber for their journey back to his place. She greets the driver and settles into her seat, as Atsumu calls out behind him something or other to someone. The slam of the door and clicking of seatbelts is what fills the silence in the car, music softly playing from the rear speakers, as Atsumu leans his head back against the headrest.

“So I take it yer coming to stay with me for tonight?”

“Hmm.. don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” She teases to which Atsumu slightly pouts, reaching to knuckle at his eyes that suddenly feel a little too heavy. “You owe me the biggest breakfast fathomable tomorrow.”

“Why’s it that I owe you when I paid for your dinner before going out, paid for your drinks tonight, and am letting you sleep in my bed - which is infinitely better than your cheap ass - hey!” He begins his ranting, which would be cut off by a sturdy flick to the forehead and a slight “hush” before he feels her head rest up on his shoulder.

Y/N and Atsumu had been friends for a little while, when she chased him down the middle of the road, claiming to the public that he was a thief, just because he’d grabbed the wrong umbrella on the way out of the restaurant they were both eating in. He’d tried to apologize, but she traded umbrellas and walked back towards the direction of the restaurant. He had chalked it up to nothing really, just a slight mistake and minor inconvenience for the girl. At least until a certain teammate’s birthday dinner, where said stranger was- only this time sitting and chatting with Sakusa Kiyoomi as if they’d been best friends for forever (which in all fairness, Y/N and Kiyoomi had only been friends since college, where they were forced into a friendship by their roommates, who were hooking up with each other and forced the two on double dates). This second meeting was a sign to Atsumu, a sign that for whatever reason this girl was supposed to be in his life, in some capacity or another - but he did royally fuck it up a second time by trying to flirt with Y/N, who laughed and asked if his opening line was really the best he’d had, before hitting him with an opening line that still makes him flush when he thinks about it today.

The ride to Atsumu’s home isn’t long, but it's long enough for the tiredness to seep into Y/N’s bones, who barely misses the quiet way that Atsumu’s fingers have taken home at the base of her neck, massaging gently at the tenseness he feels under the pads of his fingers.

“Someone’s tired… why didn’t you stay home?” He asks as they turn onto his street, letting his fingers fall away from her as he begins to check that they have everything they need. ”’t’s a good thing yer sleeping over at mine... and no couch for you. Your neck is all kinds of tense. It's a miracle you haven’t complained ‘bout it once tonight.”

“Shh.. you’re so loud for what?” She mumbles while trying to stifle a yawn. “So if I’m not supposed to sleep on the couch then where am I supposed to sleep then, boy genius? The floor?”

“No,” Atsumu answers seriously, brow slightly wrinkled as he reaches for his keys in his pocket. “You’ll sleep with me. In my bed. ‘t’s a cooling mattress so you won’t haffta complain that yer too hot.”

“Miya, last time I slept in a bed with you, you nearly suffocated me. Dunno if I really wanna have to deal with trying to roll you onto your back again.”

“Wait a minute! To be fair, my bed was smaller then so there was less room for the both of us.” He begins, opening the door and shutting it before turning the two of them towards the entrance to his apartment building. “Second of all, it was my first time sharing a bed with someone other than ‘Samu so ya shouldn’t blame me for not having proper sleep manners.”

The first steps into Atsumu’s home consists of the pair kicking off their shoes, debating lightly on who was gonna take over the shower first. Y/N slides her feet into the slippers that are specifically her slippers in his home and slinks off towards the kitchen, as Atsumu peels off his shirt and heads towards the shower. It feels comfortable, almost like a routine, as Y/N gathers eggs and two noodle packets to make them a small meal before bed. Moments later, Atsumu is coming out of the shower, towelling off his hair before settling onto the sofa, clicking on the T.V. as Y/N comes in with the two bowls of noodles. A silent agreement is met when they finish that Atsumu would wash the dishes as Y/N showered, taking a shirt from his drawers to sleep in

She hands him a bottle of aspirin, mumbling around the toothbrush to “take two or so help me.” Moments later she joins him in bed, slipping on a pair of socks that are two sizes too big for her before settling under the plush fabric of his comforter. He shifts over closer to her after tossing his phone on the nightstand, seeking out her form in the now dim room for a small cuddle before dozing off. She willingly accepts him too, sliding her body just under his and buries her face in his skin, still warm from the too-hot shower he is prone to taking in the name of muscle relaxation. He hums slightly as their feet tangle together, silently appreciating the way Y/N so freely indulges his need to touch someone after being touch-starved for so long.

Though Y/N isn’t much like him in that sense - doesn’t have this inherent need to cling to someone before bed, or just hold hands at a store, or hands on the shoulder in a crowded room. Sometimes she will, like now with her nose buried in his neck and her hand rubbing up and down the length of his sturdy back. Normally they won’t do this, both just a little too headstrong to dig into the tightening in their chests when the hug for a moment longer than usual; but tonight Y/N is silently congratulating him on winning the game that has had him stressed for weeks. She feels his lips press softly to the top of her head, a mumble of “good night” leaving his lips as she feels his breaths even out as the moments pass.

This is where Y/N wishes she had the power to pull away - blames moments like this on giving her the slightest bit of hope that they could be more than friends.

It's not that she hadn’t thought about it - frankly she’d spent too much time thinking about it. She could do this… with him.. But every thought is put to bed when she thinks back on this one conversation months ago. Granted she didn’t have the full context of the conversation but it's enough to make her heart squeeze when she sees Atsumu flirt with someone, or shake off his hand when she’s had a particularly sensitive day.

It was just another evening where hanging out after him and the rest of the team being away for a week. They’d ordered in food and drinks had been flowing nicely as the comfortable pair had caught up - it was honestly too homey of a setting in hindsight. His phone rang, the white text of “‘Samu” flashed and Y/N took that as a cue to finally get to the restroom.

“Mhm.. made it back early today - no Y/N picked me up.” He’d been mumbling around a handful of chips, the other side of the conversation mute to Y/N’s eavesdropping.. “Oh shut up, she doesn’t mind and it's not as if we’re dating anyway. It’s.. casual and it works for us.”

And she should’ve stepped into her place next to him, cuddled up into her chest and played the role of the blissfully ignorant idiot. But no, she stayed tucked behind the restroom door, blood pumping and heart beating too loud in her ears. It would seem as though Y/N was a glutton for punishment, a minor thing when thinking about putting herself through a moment of pain for a lifetime of pleasure - but the pain that came with Miya Atsumu’s next words would set her off kilter for a while.

“Besides, she’s not really my type. It’d never work out anyway.”

She had no choice really other than to shut the door. Take some extra time in the restroom than necessary - after all she’d just hear the potential love of her life admit to his twin brother that she wasn’t his type. All she could do really was stare at herself in the stupidly bright mirror in his stupid guest bathroom of his stupidly expensive apartment. God this is so stupid, she thinks to herself while running cold water to press against her cheeks that she feels are heated up. Before she can really tear her own heart to bits though, she hears a quick rapt on the door.

“Y/N ya’right in there? Warned y’bout putting too much hot sauce on your food.”

But that’d been two years ago. It was a little rough after that; Y/N had thrown herself into finding a life post-grad which was a great distraction from the rumors going around that Atsumu had been spotted with some model or actress or something. Besides, Y/N wasn’t really the type to harp on failed romantic interests - all she’d need to do is download whatever relevant dating app for some validation and she’d be able to move on. However nights like tonight, when he looked too good and the little moment was a little too right - she’d still hope. Make a wish to whatever angle number or shooting star or deity above that she’d get tossed a chance to be in love with the stupid setter, because she had already fallen.

“Mm y’right?” She heard him, how could she not when he’s practically suffocating her. She chooses not to answer though, humming affirmatively - to which he huffs and shifts slightly, settling back into unconsciousness.

Maybe she’d blame the train of thoughts for tonight on the fact that she’d been drinking. However, come morning, the seed would bloom a little brighter in her chest when she wakes up to realize that her face is pressed into his side, arms circling his slim waist and one sock lost among their tangled legs.

---

God she hated him. Miya Atsumu was too much of a lot of things - too much of a sore winner, too much of an idiot, too much of a talker, and most of all, too much of a liar.

For the second time in the span of a month, Atsumu had convinced her to come out, despite her desperately wanting to curl up in bed and binge eat away the stress of the week. Only this time it was a charity event, so she would definitely be the bad guy if she said no. It was an event where him and the rest of his team had been roped into a charity dinner - which (gratefully) meant that Sakusa would be around, and they could fuck off to a corner someplace to talk shit about what all the rich wives are wearing and how bad it looks when their husbands are flirting with the wait staff. But Atsumu had promised that they’d leave before the entree was served - swore the entire drive over that “we’ll get you back home in time, grandma” and that he’d even cook for her this time.

But the entree had been whisked off about forty minutes ago, her wine glass had been refilled twice, and she was bored of watching Sakusa look at his watch, waiting for an appropriate time to leave. Atsumu was a few tables away, chatting up some couple, something about wanting to get their information for Osamu’s business. He would laugh a little too loudly at their jokes, gaining attention of those at surrounding tables - which was only mildly irritating as he had now gathered a crowd of people around him, spewing off some story about him getting lost in Russia the first time they played overseas.

She huffs and stands up, chair scraping slightly, gaining the attention of the rest of the table. All she does is hold up her wine glass in a feeble attempt at an answer of where she’d be waiting at the bar. If I have to be here, the least I could do is drink for free. The bar is empty, surprisingly no one wants to mope around this very nice dinner.

“What can I get you?”

“Mmm.. whiskey highball, please.” She answers to the unnecessarily cute bartender, but the raise of his eyebrows do not go unnoticed. And fortunately (or unfortunately) she’s got the time to press him. “Surprised?”

“Only a little bit. Noticed you were drinking wine most of the night so the whiskey is a hard switch.”

“So you’ve been watching me?” She muses, smiling as he places the drink in front of her. He smiles and leans forward on the bar slightly, shaking his head and replying.

“It’s almost as if… I’m being paid to make sure people have their drinks.”

“Oh, so it's not because I’m cute?”

“Now I didn’t say that did I? But you know you’re gorgeous; your boyfriend over there must tell you all the time.” He muses, a smirk playing at his lips as he nods behind her. She all but chokes on her drink when she turns around and sees that the direction he nodded in was directly in Atsumu’s vicinity before shaking her head violently. Atsumu was not going to ruin this for her. “Oh so not your boyfriend?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ as she slips the straw past her lips again, eyes taking in his leaning form. He was cute. His hair was on the silver side of blond, tips of his hair black. He was tall and lean, a piercing hanging from his left ear.

“That’s a shame.” And she gives him her name with a flutter of her lashes and a sweet smile. He returns it, preparing her next drink without her even having to ask. And so they talk, first about how the next person who approaches the bar should be cut off, to how pretentious the whole event was. Two drinks in, Y/N finds herself being invited to a show.

“This whole bartending thing is just a way for me to get some extra cash… I’ve got a gig in an hour. I figured if we leave together now, I can get you home to change outta this and into something a little more… concert fitting?”

“O-Oh.. yeah. I just need to go let my friend know…” She trails off, sliding off her barstool before turning to gracefully power walking to her initial seat next to Sakusa. She huffs and she plots herself down in the char next to him, to which he gives her a look of what the fuck. “I don’t have time to catch you up, but the insanely hot bartender is taking me home. As much as I’d love to get out of here with you, I desperately need to get lai-”

“Going somewhere?” Fuck fuck fuck.

“Didn’t you hear her? The hot bartender is taking her home and she needs -”

“Aishhhh shut up.” She turns to look at her curly haired friend, only to see that he’s got this annoying little smile on his face. She deeply exhales and turns back to Atsumu, who looks less than amused about what his friend said. “Listen, you promised me we’d leave two hours ago. Well you lied so nooow I made plans, so if you would kindly move outta my way.”

“No.” She whips her head up at the blonde. No? What the absolute fuck was he going on about telling her no, despite her not asking for his permission. “You’ve been drinking and you don’t even know the guy - how can you trust that he won’t memorize your address then come rob you or something? I promised to take you home, and since you’re ready now we can leave now.”

“Listen Miya, I appreciate the concern but really I’m a big girl. I can handle a night out by myself with a guy - besides I’m not even that drunk. Now, give me my house keys and move out of my way.”

Suddenly, it's like those cheesy western movies where two cowboys are staring each other down, neither willing to be put down by the other. Except it's this 6’2” pro-athlete staring quite literally down at Y/N, who hits the gym only on a blue moon and spends too much time sitting at a desk. Sakusa has to laugh at the two stubborn idiots in front of him; he knows that Atsumu is going to be able to win this little game that they're playing, but silently applauds Y/N for attempting to stick it to him. Moments pass before Atsumu finally sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his expensive suit and pulling out her keys - but he doesn’t give them to her.

“What’s his name? If you can tell me his name I’ll give you your keys and let you go.”

“Let me go? Okay, Dad.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, small clutch dangling from her wrist. “I know his name, Atsumu. I may have had a drink or two but I’m not an idiot to be going off with someone who’s name I don’t even know... it’s… uhm.” And she’s done. She hadn’t even bothered to ask his name, doesn’t even remember whether she gave him hers, nor was she smart enough to notice whether he’d been wearing a name tag. Mentally she’s cursing herself, chancing a glance behind Atsumu’s shoulder to see the hot bartender chatting it up with another girl. Before she can think too much into it, Atsumu sighs deeply, grabbing his suit jacket off the chair next to her and slipping it on his shoulders, a soft “let’s go” leaving his lips as he nods his good-bye to the rest of the table. Y/N chews at the inside of her cheek before grabbing his arm.

“Give me my keys. I’m not going home with you. I want to be alone.”

---

Four days passed - four days of Atsumu borderline harassing Y/N with apologies. Promising to make it up to her. Which is how she finds herself walking into their favorite local sushi restaurant - it's the only one that has self-serving sushi that arrives on a miniature train, and it's also the only place that they go when apologies are to be exchanged. In the handful of years that they’d be friends, Y/N has needed to apologize to Atsumu thrice - two for blowing him off after overhearing the dreaded words and once for saying that maybe Osamu was the better twin. Atsumu on the other hand, had apologized to Y/N many times - so many times in fact that Y/N is sure that he makes up excuses just so they can come eat at this sushi place.

It’s been a long week for Y/N. The Sunday after the charity event, Y/N wakes up with one of the worst headaches of her life - and its due to the fact that she slept like shit hoping that Atsumu made it home safe since he hadn’t texted her he did. Monday she was handed a stack of documents at work that needed to get done before lunch (which didn’t get done). Tuesday morning was dominated by the fact that some idiot on the train to work had spilt a coffee on her, making her wear the most uncomfortable suit jacket, lest she wear a coffee soaked shirt for most of the day. Today, Wednesday, she’d woken up to a box with a pastry outside her door and a cup of coffee with a sticky note on the lid.

Sorry. Let me make it up to you. Train Sushi? 7pm?

Despite the fact that she was most definitely still thinking about why Atsumu acted the way he did - she still went through the mountain of paperwork on her desk with a little smile, knowing that she’d be getting free sushi and an apology. Maybe if she’s lucky, she can convince him that she needs a crepe on the way home.

As she makes her way into the restaurant that evening, she sees him. His dorito-shaped body is stationed at the bar, a cozy brown coat hugging his back, muscles of his arms being squeezed by the sleeves. She can see that he’s got a drink in front of him and she smiles slightly, stepping up towards the bar but stops momentarily. He’s talking to someone - not just someone, a girl. He’s smiling too. Y/N can’t see the stranger’s face, but judging by the way that she has a hand around his biceps and her head tilted, one can only assume that they know each other. Y/N attempts to step backwards, she wants to let him finish his conversation with the woman but she doesn’t know if she can stomach the idea of watching them flirt; but she misses the step, leading her to bump into the hostess who led her to the bar, creating a bit of a scene.

“Y/N! There you are! C’mere.”

She’s buying time by profusely apologizing to the hostess, who honestly is probably just trying to get away. At this point, Y/N has no choice but to walk towards her friend and this mystery woman. The ten steps towards the pair is enough time for Y/N to mentally list off all the things she could have done in the world to warrant some shitty karma that’s hitting her now. Once face to face with Atsumu, she smiles.

“Sorry - long day at work got me all …” Y/N’s words trail off, the hand that’s not death-gripping her purse waves off with her closing thoughts.

“Don’t mind, Wednesday’s are usually your long days. ‘Sides you’re here now - tha’s what matters.” God he’s so dumb. So handsome and so dumb, and god did she miss him. “It’s a good thing you got here a little late, this is Michimiya Yui. I think you two might’ve -”

“No, I don’t think we’ve met! It’s so nice to meet you - he used to talk about you all the time!” The brunette smiles at Y/N, sticking her hand out, which Y/N takes limply, shaking her hand. She’s pretty, Y/N thinks to herself. Her hair is short and she’s wearing some cute leather thigh high boots, her smile is almost paid-for perfect. She’s got this whole brown smoked out eyeliner working for her, which makes Y/N slightly subconscious about her most likely smudged and uneven eyeliner and less-than appealing work pants. Before Y/N can even think of a response to give, Michimiya has her hand back on Atsumu, a pretty smile settling on her lips. It feels like Y/N is watching a trainwreck happening before her eyes. “I was just telling Atsumu that I was back in town and that we should hang out!”

“And I was just explaining to her that I had plans with yo-”

“You should join us!” Idiot. Why am I such a fucking idiot? Atsumu looks over at Y/N with a wild look in his eyes, Michimiya looks like a child who wound up making out with two candies instead of one. “I had a super long day at work today so I’m really only able to eat dinner, but I know Atsumu can stay up for hours so once I leave you two can hang out.”

“Y/N, I thought that -”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! I just need to tell the wait staff to cancel my to-go order, so excuse me.”

And so the two friends watch the woman walk away from them, making her way towards the to-go order area. Y/N bites at the inside of her cheek, intentionally avoiding Atsumu’s eyes that she feels are pinned on her. She digs out her phone from her purse, texting Sakusa an ominous “next time you see me, please poison me 😑.” As Y/N drags her eyes up Atsumu’s front, she feels the same way she did when she would get scolded by her parents. His eyes are staring at her face, no doubt wanting to press her about why she willingly invited a stranger to eat with them at their restaurant. To pacify him, all she does is hold up her hand, shaking her head.

“It’s fine, Miya. Like you said, Wednesday’s are my long days so I wouldn’t be able to stay out late with you anyway. Besides…” She starts, fixing a smile onto her face. “I think that she might have a little crush on you!” He says nothing, lips pressed in a hard line and a brow arched up at her. “Don’t look at me like that. And save your apology for next time… we have company.”

The rest of the evening goes exactly like Y/N’s worst nightmare. She is quite literally the third-wheel despite the fact that technically Michimiya was supposed to be the third wheel in this little scenario. Y/N has to watch the pretty brunette flirt relentlessly with Atsumu, who seems blissfully oblivious to the fact that for every compliment Michimiya gives Y/N, she gives herself two more. Sakusa is well informed on the situation, receiving texts every five minutes with another dumb thing that was said in front of Y/N’s appatizers. Rarely does someone ever wish for a natural disaster to hit, but in the last thirty minutes of sitting at this table, Y/N has wished for every biblical curse to wreak havoc in her way.

Despite the fact that Michimiya has hijacked every conversation, Atsumu still tries to ask Y/N about her, including her in the conversation as much as possible. But Y/N stopped trying twenty minutes ago, and is now forcing herself to eat the last few pieces of sushi she ordered - normally she’s a stress eater, but Michimiya has rested her hand on Atsumu’s thigh and Y/N has suddenly never felt more sick in her life. Y/N has never once picked up a tab around Atsumu - “please, ‘ve got more money than I know whatta do wit’it” he’d always tell her when she attempted to take up the ticket - but when they finally wave down someone and ask for the check, Y/N drops some cash on the table and collects her things.

“It’s been so nice to meet you, but I think I should really get going. I’ve gotta get to work early tomorrow - I’ll see you this weekend right, Miya?”

“Wait up, I’ll take you home… Yui it’s been really -”

“No no, really it's okay! You stay! I’ll just text you when I get home. Be safe. And again it was so nice to meet you - take care of Atsumu for me.”

“Oh I will!”

Y/N is not a runner but she’s never sprinted away from a situation so fast in her life. The image of Michimiya’s sly little smile at Y/N’s request to take care of her friend makes her feel gross, tears stinging at the back of her eyes and she settles on the train. Y/N can name a handful of times when she’d seen Atsumu around women - but never once had she’d met someone he was romantically involved with and it hurts. The gentle sway of the train does nothing to settle the spinning of her head with images of what Atsumu actually looks for - his actual type. She feels like an idiot; she should have just told Atsumu that they could do a raincheck, or if she was feeling bold, she could’ve told Michimiya to fuck off. The latter seems possible in the version of herself in Y/N’s head, but the reality was that she was too nice. Always wanted to make the people she cares about happy, and Atsumu looked... happy? Besides, Y/N thinks to herself as she exits the train and makes the trek towards her apartment building, if Michimiya Yui was going to be involved with Atsumu, the more exposure she had to her, the better off Y/N would be in accepting that Atsumu would never ever be with Y/N like that.

Once settled in her apartment, she sends off a quick “home. thanks for tonight!” to Atsumu before making her way to the bathroom. A nice warm soak would surely make her feel better, make her forget about what an idiot she is and maybe, just maybe, make her body relax all the love she holds in her heart for the blond away. Her phone pings, twice, but she ignores it. Ten minutes into her pity soak she hears a bang on her door, which only makes her groan and dunk her head under the water. The banging stops, making Y/N think it was just her neighbor or something asking for a favor. What she doesn’t expect is for her to exit the bath twenty minutes later to see Sakusa Kiyoomi sittin on her couch.

“Hello, glad to see you exploiting your spare key access.”

“Miya called me and said you looked like shit earlier. And judging by your texts throughout the evening, I figured you were on the brink of a breakdown.”

And so she was. She spent the rest of the evening talking Kiyoomi through the night, slipping in all the questions she’s had from the past two times that Atsumu had cockblocked her. And bless Kiyoomi for sitting through her tears, sitting cross-legged and drinking tea that he had initially made for her but refused to let her drink once he realized she had already brushed her teeth. It felt almost like she was finally thinking about what her friendship with Miya Atsumu was, what it could and couldn’t be. Every moment painted so clearly about how Y/N felt for her blond friend, but the only thing missing was how said friend felt about her. At 11:30 pm, two hours after Kiyoomi initially arrived at Y/N’s apartment, she pushed Kiyoomi out the door, eyes puffy but heart and head a little clearer than how they were when he arrived.

Despite promising Kiyoomi that she would not think about Atsumu, as Y/N settles into bed, her thoughts can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with him. She mulls it over as she slides off her socks, deciding that it’d be nice - probably exactly how they are now, plus a title and a little less swatting his hands away when he reaches for her in public. Y/N can’t help it as she thinks about whether they would kiss a lot - they’ve kissed before, neither strangers to cheek kisses as greetings or kisses at the top of their heads when the other is crying into their chest (there was even that very drunk kiss they shared on New Years Eve when their friendship was fresh that both still have warm cheeks about when they think about). Just as she’s about to go down the path of whether Atsumu would spend more nights with her at her cardboard box of an apartment or her at his, Y/N cuts herself off - after all she wasn’t his type. Tonight proved that more than anything, she thinks.

It’s not like Atsumu has never brought anyone around Y/N - there’d been a few that she’d met, though they were mostly over a facetime call and it was mostly just her waving at them before Atsumu ducked away to have a private conversation. It's not like tonight was the first night Y/N had to swallow the bile in her mouth at seeing someone make heart eyes at Atsumu - it's just this time felt different; almost like Y/N was finally having the truth thrusted into her face. But Y/N isn’t mad or hateful of Michimiya, nor Atsumu for that matter - she’d never been the type to hate a girl for having feelings for the person she has feelings for. It’s annoying, sure, but Y/N doesn’t see the point in hating someone for how they feel - however, Y/N does not make the effort to become friends with these girls, or maintain the close friendship with Atsumu for that matter. Is it petty to put a strain on a friendship out of fear of losing said friendship? Absolutely! But Y/N knows she won’t be able to stomach another night like tonight - another night of seeing Atsumu slip so easily from her fingers into the arms of another. And as observant as Atsumu is, he never fully recognizes that Y/N is avoiding him, at least that what she hopes since more often than he’s able to worm himself back into her life.

---

Following the failed apology dinner, Y/N tried her hardest to give herself a few days without the blonde- made easy by the fact that the weekend after the failed apology dinner he’d be out of town for another tournament. It’s not like she was totally avoiding him, she’d responded to his texts and even answered two of his six facetime calls while he was away, she just wanted a little bit of time to wallow in self pity in her apartment, crying over her comfort movies and eating too many bags of hot chips. But once he was back in the same timezone as her, Atsumu made it impossible for Y/N to fully wallow.

It started when he texted her about their favorite crepe place temporarily closing for some reason or other - he’d tried to convince her to ditch work early that day to come, but Y/N declined with a simple text of “i like my job tyvm.” So what did he do? Pick her up in his flashy sports car that day after work (two hours later than usual since she’d figured he’d do something ridiculous like this) and drove her there, where he didn’t bat an eyelash as she ordered double than what she normally would have (a silent fuck you from Y/N but it didn’t matter since she wasn’t actualy hurting his wallet). She’d been able to tide him off for a few days, as she escaped to her hometown for a weekend - but that did little to stop the mirage of texts he’d sent her, describing in great detail this cool hybrid bookstore-game cafe that he found and thinks she’d like. Instead of responding how she actually wanted, she’d just replied with a half-assed “ahh exciting- sounds cute!” (She mentally grants herself ten nice points for erasing her initially text, telling him to take his “fucking girlfriend”). This must have really struck a nerve with him when the following weekend, he’d dragged her out of bed on Sunday morning to take her to said bookstore-game cafe, even spoiling her by secretly buying a book she’d picked up but put back.

Y/N can’t tell if Atsumu is intentionally ignoring the hints she doesn’t want to see him or if he’s really just oblivious. She also can’t tell if the patter of her heart when he drags her out of bed despite her not wanting to see him is a good thing or not. It’s been weeks since she’d third-wheeled with Atsumu and Michimiya, surely Y/N should have been able to take a little bit of pride in the fact that he was literally chasing her down to spend time with her rather than Michimiya - but before she can even swallow that pill Atsumu shows up at her apartment with the trace of a bruise hiding just below his shirt collar. The small mark on his neck makes Y/N convince herself that this would be the time that she needs a full on Atsumu ban.

Said ban never actually happens, though.

Just as proof that this ban doesn’t happen, today Atsumu has decided that Y/N needs to come shopping with him. For the entire day. Cue the montage of Atsumu banging on Y/N’s door at nine in the morning, breakfast pastries and coffee in hand as Y/N answers in all her morning glory, sleep caked up in the outer corner of her eyes and pajamas haphazardly fixed. Words are exchanged as Atsumu pushes her towards the shower, promising to make up her bed and even take out the trash for her (a chore she put off last night because she’d seen too many people smoking by the dumpsters which scared her enough to make her drag up the two bags of back up the five flights of stairs). As Y/N settles at her desk to work on making herself “the hottest person at the market,” Atsumu settles on her bed, talking a mile a minute about all the things he wanted to get at the market and the possible places they could go for lunch in the area. All she can do is hum, wondering silently why he’d chosen to take the trip with her and not his girlfriend - but she wouldn’t complain.

The market was...fulfilling enough. Surprisingly, Y/N was walking towards the food trucks with more bags in her hands than Atsumu, who followed behind her with one print from a vendor that Y/N convinced him would actually look good in his home office. The pair decided that Y/N was better suited to look for a place where they could park themselves to eat, while Atsumu went off to get them lunch. Before Y/N could make a break for the tables though, Atsumu grabbed her face, thumb swiping at her cheek firmly - it took Y/N every ounce of restraint to not whimper at the unprompted affection.

“Wha-”

“Had some of that jam sample from earlier on your face, dummy.”

“Tsk… why didn’t you see it earlier.”

He just smiled softly, letting the warmth of his hand fall from her face before patting her back towards her initial direction. Frankly, she’d been thrown off her rhythm; they’d touched each other before for fucks sake. So why was this one moment of closeness enough to make her chest feel tight? As she weaved through the tables, she can’t help but hold her hand to where his was, almost as if to preserve the warmth that was now gone. She hummed gleefully as she found a table, making her way towards it and setting up camp. As she settles into her chair, fingers deftly texting to Atsumu where she’s stationed, she sees a shadow come across the table.

“Hey, are you gonna use all these chairs?” He’s cute, almost terribly cute - he’s got this pinkish-blonde hair going on top, an almost shy glint in his gray-ish colored eyes, and an almost self-assured smile pulling at his lips. He was also tall, much taller since Y/N was sitting, but she almost doesn’t mind considering the fact that she is most definitely gawking at him. She shakes her head momentarily, both as an answer to his question and a way to clear her head momentarily.

“Thanks! My friend over there is too precious to sit on the curb, apparently.” He smiles at her, eyes squinting and she’s momentarily breathless at just how cute he is when he smiles. His arms move to grab one of the chairs and that's when she decides to speak up, not wanting to quite end the conversation yet.

“Ahh no worries! I know all about having that too precious friend! I only need one other chair so you can take two of these.”

“Oh cool thanks… and hey this might be a little weird but - fuck are you from Miyagi? You look kinda like this one girl from high school but - “

“I am! I went to Aoba Johsai and -”

He clicks his tongue and seems to smile even brighter now. “That’s right - you’re Y/N right? I think you were a year younger than us right, but you always hung out with that one girl in my year who used to smoke behind the boy’s gym…” Y/N nods, a grimace on her face and the back of her neck feeling a little warm with embarrassment. How could she possibly explain that said girl was actually Y/N’s cousin and that she didn’t actually smoke, she’d just smell like it after working at their family restaurant. “Well I’m Makki, by the way. If you remember Matsukawa and Iwaizumi they're over there - they were at Seijoh too.” She nods, leaning slightly to see the two men behind him, both wearing smiles that were just a little too cheeky.

“Yeah yeah, I remember… you also had a particular whiny one with you too, right?” He laughs at that, responding that said whiny one was actually abroad. The two make a little conversation, her giving him some suggestions on places to visit since one of his trio is actually visiting for the weekend. Y/N thinks this is nice - feels like the main character in a movie with the amount of men that have approached her in the past couple weeks. Before she can get too cocky in her ability to pull though, Atsumu walks up to the table, hands full with a tray that seems to be piled with too many little plates.

“There y’are… couldn’t see you from across the way… everything okay?” Atsumu questions, standing to his full height as if sizing up Makki, who seems completely unphased by Atsumu.

“Yeah, was just asking your girlfriend if I could steal these two chairs away before I realized that we knew each other.” The strawberry blonde is definitely unphased by Atsumu, who’s shoulders visibly relax at Makki’s suggestion that the two friends were together. “Well it was nice seeing you, Y/N! Thanks again for the chairs, you all enjoy your meal.”

As Makki walks away, Atsumu settles into his own chair with a smug little smile playing at his lips. Y/N, on the other hand, is chewing at the inside of her cheek as food is placed in front of her. Her blond friend, the observant little shit, notices that she doesn’t immediately tuck into the lunch laid in front of her and nudges her foot with his, muttering a quick “what's wrong.”

“You were blessed with possibly the worst timing in the world, y’know that?”

“What d’ya mean?” He muses, taking in her huffily pulling the lid off her food and stuffing her face with the rice bowl in front of her.. She chews, combing the food on her plate with the plastic fork as a way to stop herself from unleashing all her frustrations.

“You always but in whenever I start getting hit on! Or you stop every chance I have at possibly getting to know someone; you come in here full force and its really not fair. I don’t do it to you, and it's just not fair.” Y/N hates that she probably sounds like a whining child, but she really can’t help it anymore. It’s really not fair that Atsumu flaunts his conquests on the cover of every magazine, but god forbid Y/N talk to a guy. “Its been a while since I’ve had sex, Atsumu, and it’s getting to a point where I’d jump just about anyone’s bones. I - I just think that as my best friend you should be providing me some support, not cockblocking me at every fucking opportunity you get.”

It takes every fiber in his body to not laugh at how ridiculous Y/N is being right now. He licks at his lip, catching whatever food crumbs he could before clearing his throat. “‘M sorry what? You actually wanna hook up with those guys? They seem like the type to just fuck ya n’ then not text you back.”

“And if that’s what I want then so what!? Did you miss the part where I said I’m desperate here?”

“Then..” He takes a swig at his water bottle in front of him, leaning back slightly in his seat and sliding his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head. “If you need it that badly then you can just do it with me. You said anyone so I can -”

She laughs, one that sounds on the brink of delusion. “You’re fucking ridiculous. Yeah okay… Dunno if you remember but you’ve got a girlfriend, Miya.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Y/N. We’re… not that serious with each other and we’re also open. She knows that..'' He looks smug, and Y/N wants to smack the absolute life out of him. “And I’m being serious, darlin.. I’d rather get you off than see you get your hopes up over some random.”

Y/N squeezes the poor utensil in her hand, choosing to chomp down one of the buns on the table instead of reminding Atsumu that she wasn’t exactly his type. But she lets it go, just squinting at him and shaking her head, mumbling how ridiculous he is before swiping some of his veggies off his plate. How else is she supposed to react to her best friend blatantly telling her that he’d fuck her if she’d ask - she tries to ignore the way that their knees resting on each other under the table makes her heart soar. Before she can form a sentence, something to steer the direction away from her sex life (or lack thereof), Atsumu mumbles around a forkful of food that she’d better hurry since he wants to do another lap of the market before it closes.

---

Atsumu’s offer and that entire conversation is brought up again a few days later; the pair are in Y/N’s apartment this time. She’d asked him and his brother to come over to install some shelves for her, but apparently Osamu was busy. With the shelves installed, Y/N put on a movie to serve as Atsumu’s entertainment whilst she organized her trinkets. She wasn’t really paying attention to the movie, too concerned with trying to see if the shelves were actually level or not when she heard Atsumu laugh behind her, muting the T.V. with a quizzical brow raised.

“Huh? If you don’t like the movie then you can change it… ‘m not payin atten-”

“Oh yeah not paying attention right?” She gives him a hard look as if proving to him that she can’t honestly give him the plot of the movie. “So you’re telling me that its just a coincidence that this movie is about two friends who make a pact to fuck each other? That it's a coincidence that the literal name of the movie is ‘Friends with Benefits”

She rolls her eyes and turns to face him fully, seeing that he’s now sat up on her couch with his elbows resting on his knees. A beat passes before he puts his hands up, almost as if in surrender, before he pushes himself off the couch and towards the kitchen. She watches him as he pulls out a bottle of wine, nodding to the couch as if asking her to take a break. She relents, folding her legs under herself and pulling at a string on the worn sofa, thinking she’d probably try to replace this piece before she renewed her lease. He thrusts the glass to her, settling into the sofa but he makes no move to unmute the T.V., instead inciting some silent battle while they each sip from their respective glasses.

“Y’know you’ve been snappy lately… my offer from the other day still stands, hope y’know tha’.” She scoffs, choosing to take another swig at her wine, which does little to cool the warmth she feels in her throat. He’s not technically wrong - the conversation the other day had made a fog of tension hang over her, making a long lost desire for the blond resurface in her lower abdomen at full force. She’d spent way too much time the other night on Amazon, debating on whether it would be a good idea to get rechargeable batteries for her toy, spent too long watching his mouth move when he’d facetimed her the other night. It's not that Y/N hadn’t hooked up with anyone since knowing Atsumu, it's just that maybe she’d spent a little too much time enjoying how Atsumu met her emotional needs that she had neglected her physical needs.

“What offer?” She’ll be damned to let him in on the fact that she’d done nothing but think about his stupid offer. Refuses to let him know that she wants, no needs, to say yes. So she plays dumb, finger dancing along the lip of her cup, foot swinging anxiously against the floor.

He hums, reaching to put his glass on her beat up coffee table. He leans his elbow on the back of the couch, placing his chin in his hand, giving Y/N his undivided attention. “‘Samu was talking about how his girlfriend has been on his ass lately about every little thing and so I asked him if they’re doin’ okay, y’know physically… didn’t answer me but I figured he’d solved it if he hasn’t mentioned it since. I heard someone say that if yer girl’s acting fussy then y’need to think about if you’ve been fuckin’ her right and well…” Y/N swallows the lump in her throat, stopping the shiver that threatens to rack her body at the idea of Atsumu thinking she’s his girl. “I was bein’ serious the other day. I know ya were mad so it wasn’t the best time to bring it up, but it seemed like the only good thing to say. Besides, ‘m not all that bad in bed, can ring up a few people if y’need a review.”

Y/N doesn’t respond with anything other than a forced huff of laughter, can't respond really. It feels too warm, she’s hoping that maybe this is some fever dream instead of reality. She just plays with her cup absentmindedly, not quite able to look the blond in the eyes despite the fact that his eyes are studying her face as if she holds all the answer to the questions the universe has. Him being bad in bed is the least of her worries, what if she’s bad? God she wants to say yes, maybe she’ll say yes - maybe it’d be good for her to finally get some di-

“Forget it, ‘m sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable then we don’t have to, sweetheart. I just -”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Oh now she speaks. He looks at her, a wild look fixed on his face, almost as if he doesn’t believe the words that came out of her mouth. “It's just..” She throws her head back, face covered momentarily by some plant leaves. God she didn’t want to actually voice her thoughts but now she has no choice.

“It’s just what? If yer worried about the fuckin part, I can just get you off other ways. Get paid to be good with my hands -”

“Just shut up for once please, you’re ruining it.” He makes a show of zipping his lips, smiling as Y/N squares herself to him, stretching her neck as if she’s preparing for a fight, rather than speaking a coherent sentence.. “It's just that I don’t… dont wanna force you into thinking you have to ‘cos I’m being bitchy to you.. Like it’s not your problem to fix y’know and I just. Besides, don't wanna be the only one enjoying it, want you to like it too and … for fucks sake this is ridiculous. I just dunno I-”

Atsumu’s hand reaches out towards her, fingers stroking her knee in a comforting manner but it’s all but comforting to Y/N, who’s entire leg feels on fire at this small moment of skinship. “Shh, shh, no baby yer not forcing me to do anything. Don’t think that way - I-I wanna do it! I wan’ya to be happy and if this makes you happy then… And i mean if y’need more of a reason then think of it as a way for me to say sorry for cockblockin’ ya all the time.”

Y/N doesn’t say yes, but she also doesn’t outright decline. She can’t think of anything other than how, if she nodded her head, he’d give her everything she’d been wanting. Atsumu and Y/N stare at each other, moments pass and she’s sure that he’s going to take her stillness and silence as a no - but he just moves to grab her wine glass, moving it from her grasp to the table, shifting closer to her in the process. She holds her breath and he brings one of his hands towards her face, palming the side of her jaw in his warm hand, thumb rubbing at the plush skin of her lips. “Can I kiss ya? Maybe tha’s all ya need is a good kiss, yeah?” She nods, his hand moving to pluck at her bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Got really nice lips, don’t you? ‘S so soft and wet, catch myself wanting to touch ‘em allot’' She inhales softly as he leans in, his hand sliding to the side of her neck and he litters soft kisses against her jaw. She whines softly when his mouth nears hers. “Shh, gonna kiss you in a minit.”

All Y/N can do is breath, mouth parted slightly as Atsumu drags his mouth over her face. His hand is so warm and big on her skin; he’s so close in her face that all she can do is inhale and smell him, making her dizzy with building warmth in her belly. They catch each other’s gaze, neither daring to blink away, before he tilts his head, pressing his mouth against hers softly at first. He doesn’t move to kiss her, just holds his lips over hers for a moment, as if giving her time to back away if she wants to; but when she doesn’t, he hums and pulls her head towards his more, lips moving in tandem. His hand slides from her cheek, worming its way towards the nape of her neck as he pulls her to him - he wastes no time in deepening the kiss, licking into her mouth with fervor. And she lets him, moving into his lap as she relishes in the feeling of his tongue lazily swirling with her own; the new found position allows him to drag his hand down her back soothingly, her own hands sliding around his neck and up into his hair.

She parts with a soft gasp, whether it be for air or out of surprise she can’t tell. He whines momentarily, before nosing his way down towards her neck, pressing butterfly-light kisses at the flesh. She’s wiggling in his arms, and he laughs, the air ticking the soft bend of her collarbone. “Fuck, you’ve been holdin out on me. Tha’ was good right? A good kiss for ya?” All Y/N can do is nod, sliding her hand towards his face in hopes of bringing his lips back to hers. She can feel the smirk on his mouth when she presses their mouths together again, and maybe after she’d bitch him out about it but right now all she wants is to be suffocated by him.

Moments pass, the air filled with soft pants in between kisses and thickening arousal. Atsumu cards his fingers in her hair gently, mouth still against hers, free hand sneaking around Y/N’s front. She whines softly, to which he shushes her softly. “Shh you’re okay… just wanna feel ya.” He soothes her over by indulging her in soft kisses against her lips, hand pushing up the front of her ratty t-shirt, snaking his hand past the waistband of her shorts into the confines of her (now too tight) underwear. Y/N shudders when he strokes lightly over her clit, before surpassing it completely and going to where a wet spot had been developing on the fabric. Plucking the damp cotton out of the way and letting the tips of two fingers rub over her weeping hole, “Oh.. this for me?”

A small noise crawls out of her throat, a mix between a moan, a whine, and surprise. “Don’t, ‘tsumu. It’s embarrassing..”

“Shh don’t be embarrassed. Just feels good to know I make ya feel good, baby.” Atsumu pulls his fingers from her, smiling when she whines at the loss of contact. But he’s able to soother her before she can get too fussy; one moment Y/N is on top of him, struggling to not rock against his thigh and relieve some of the pressure building up inside of her, the next Atsumu has her flipped over so her back, her body caged between the back of the sofa and his arms. A hand on either side of her head as he bends in, sweeps his tongue at a strip of salty skin just beneath her jaw. He hastily shoves up the shirt she’s wearing, revealing more of her and letting his hands graze over her breasts lightly at first before kneading them. She feels lightheaded while his mouth works on her throat, biting and sucking a bruise at the base of it that makes her gulp. Parting from the skin with a gentle kiss and a small, whispered comment of, “Taste so good, so soft and sweet. Been holding out on me, hmm?”

For the first time ever, Y/N has Atsumu in her arms and has no need to push him away - no, instead she’s holding onto him as if she’d die if he slipped away from her, her hands gripping his broad shoulders before sliding up into his hair as he makes his way down her body. He’s practically praising her - pressing wet, open mouthed kisses on her skin as he moves downwards, fingers making quick work of tugging her bottoms off, helping her kick out of them quickly and clumsily. She knows that Atsumu is not a patient man, but this is a whole other level of impatience. He’s pushing her thighs open, cold fingers squeezing at the soft flesh of her thighs as he scoots down to be at eye-level with the barest part of her, making sure her calves are hooked over his shoulders. Y/N can’t remember a time when she’s ever been in a more vulnerable position, but instead of shying away like her instincts would have her, she finds herself moving to better accommodate the man between her legs. Her eyes catch his caramel colored ones and her breath catches in her throat; he’s staring at her, enamored by her.

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t ya?” he murmurs, lips forming a gentle kiss on her inner thigh but before she can retort he gives one long, gentle swipe of his tongue directly up the middle of her folds. She gasps, face turned away from him and thighs threatening to close, but he shifts his hand to stop her, holding her in place. “Aht… don’t get shy now, lemme get a taste.”

It’s too much when he dives back in, skilled mouth a vicious match for his insatiable need to please. As he strokes his soft, wet tongue deeper and deeper between her slippery folds that part around him willingly. Y/N’s sure she’s moments away from swearing her undying fealty to whatever higher being put this on her plate for today. Puckering his lips around her clit after stopping just before sucking on her until it was swollen and even greedier for his attention. Dipping his tongue inside of her hole, humming appreciatively against her and only feeding into the whimpering sounds filtering out of her mouth.

Embarrassingly, Y/N feels that she’s nearing her end - despite the shame of admitting that it's coming too fast, she feels the need to tell him anyway. “Hmph… g’na cum,” she chokes out, hoping that he heard her because all she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears. Every sense is suffocated by Atsumu’s presence, and she’s shameless as she lets every pant slip past her lips, feeding into Atsumu’s ego. “‘m so close, I need it. Need you to – to keep going please, ‘Tsumu”

And he does, gets her to the edge of her high before sliding his mouth away from her. The whine that falls past her lips is deafening, eyes opening and seeing that he’s just nuzzling her thigh, lips making light work at marking the soft flesh. “No, no you said… said you’d help.. Please I’m-” she’s hiccuping, tripping over her words numbly as she tries tugging his head back to where she’s most desperate for him.

He hums at her softly, almost patronizingly, as he places a kiss to the skin closest to his mouth. “Don’t cry pretty girl.. Won’t leave you hanging, ‘ts so warm down ‘ere… might have to stay forever, tha’ okay?” He is disgusting, filthy, so sinfully good. And true to his word, he goes back in without another word, only a small smile and his own hum that vibrates through her lower half. When he takes her clit back between his lips, it’s all she needs. Every tense muscle finally seizing to his maximum strain; it’s like she was a string that’d been stretched too far and finally frayed in the middle, snapping. She can hear her heartbeat thumping like a bass in her ears, can feel the way she’s twitching under Atsumu’s relentless movements, and it drowns out her own noises that she’s making.

Moments later, all that can be heard is her bated breathing, head completely empty and eyes heavy, flickering and fluttering with just how light she feels. Atsumu kisses his way back up to be face-to-face with her, making sure to peck gently at the marks he’d littered her skin with. His face is buried in the base of her throat, their arms tangled around each other lazily - Y/N feels too sleepy to protest the way that he’s pressing all his weight onto her; but isn’t too tired to realize that he’s hard when her hips wiggle to accommodate him between her legs, maybe has been the entire time, which confuses her slightly. Why would he be hard over her? She understands her total arousal over him since she bitched him into submission, but him? If anything, him being hard right now just proves, to Y/N at least, that maybe he would get it up with anything. But what if it is for you, her heart wonders briefly.

“‘Tsumu… are you-?”

“Shh, ‘ts alright. Let's get you to bed.” And he moves to slide off her, moving to guide the two of them to her bed, which was a feat on its own considering Y/N’s legs feel like jelly. All he can do is smile at her, taking in her relaxed face and mused hair. He settles her into bed, sliding up next to her and pulling her onto his chest, lips pressed into the crown of her head. Before Y/N can even think of a way to say thank you, she feels sleep taking over, choosing instead to just indulge (for once) in the pseudo-domestic situation she’s in tonight.

The following morning, Y/N almost doesn’t want to wake up, isn’t ready to come to terms with whatever happened yesterday. Long gone is the lusty drunkenness from last night, but Atsumu...Atsumu is still fully there, lips pursed and arms shoved under the pillow - Y/N holds back the urge to trace her fingers along the lines of his arm. She russells around, hoping that sleep takes over her again so she can justify waking up wrapped around Atsumu - her attempts are futile though when she feels a firm squeeze at her side, cold fingers making her jump slightly.

“Wha’s wrong?”

She mumbles a barely coherent “nothing,” to which Atsumu just hums, snaking his arm over Y/N’s middle and pulling her towards him, chest to chest with his breath fanning over her face. She swears she could die a happy person now. Wants to have every morning be like this, him in her too small bed, squishing themselves together for warmth, just the sheer proximity is enough, she muses to herself. Apparently, Y/N is thinking just a little too loud this morning for Atsumu’s liking because he sighs softly, asking if she’s sure nothing is wrong.

“Mm ‘m fine. Jus’ tryna get comfortable, go back to sleep.”

“Can’t now, all yer wiggling woke me up” And before she can even retort, he shifts slightly, practically forcing his groin on her thigh, to which she squeaks softly. “Jus go back to sleep… too early for breakfast.”

“Bu- Tsumu.. Lemme..” she starts, shyly. She did have this inherent need to pay him back for what happened, and she can only equate his favor with something equally as...pleasurable?...fulfilling? She can’t find the right word but the most equal compensation for sex has to be more sex, right? The sleep in her bones is fully gone now, her hands sliding down his sides slowly, tentatively. “Please...wanna jus’-”

“Don’t have to, can just go to the rest- sh-shit.” He starts, his own hand reaching to stop hers but his movements stutter when she palms at his crotch, giving his bulge a full on grope. She shushes him softly, lips moving to peck his jaw softly as she snakes her hands past the tight confines of his underwear; and though she can’t see much of what is going on she can feel how thick Atsumu is. His hands have shifted slightly, one arm resting behind her and the other cupping her face, their lips tangled in kisses that feel too sweet and far from platonic.

Moments pass, and it's apparent that Y/N is moving much too slowly for Atsumu, him bucking into her hand and his hips rolling in uncalculated and sloppy movements. He whines softly when she pulls her lips off his, both softly gasping for air, but she shushes him, using the most minimal amount of strength to push him onto his back and settles between his massive thighs. By this point, once fully exposed in front of her, he's so hard that the foreskin is already drawn away from the head, tip slick and wet with precum. She’s gentle, wanting to preserve the quietness that comes with waking up at eight in the morning, as she presses a few open mouth kisses at the patch of hair below his belly button.

And it’s all over from here. Y/N ducked herself down, licking from the dip of his balls to his drippy head in one broad swipe. Y/N shudders softly at the whimper she’s able to pull out of the man above her, thinking that it’s probably the best noise she’d ever elicited from a man. Atsumu runs his fingers through her hair as she slides his head into her mouth, fingers deftly scraping at her scalp as she begins sucking. She sucks him like she wants to – like this was the most perfect way to spend every morning, with her blonde, dumb, stupid best friend stuffing her mouth. Both are still hazy with sleep, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from pulling him in deeper, hollowing her cheeks as she begins bobbing her head and moving her hand in tandem to stroke at what can’t fit in her mouth.

His fingers start to tangle in her hair rather than comb through it, his moans filling the room, punctuated with little encouragements that she hums at around him, like, “Tha’s it, there’s my good girl,” and through shaky laughs, “M'gonna cum if you keep doing that, baby.” Eventually, Y/N knows that he must be near his peak, but she pauses, eyes locking with his caramel colored ones, as she pulls her mouth away to let his length just rest on her tongue.

“Fuck yer pretty… so good aren’t ya?” He whisper-groans at her, gripping her hair a little harder when she tilts her head to the side, allow him to shallowly fuck himself between her lips, his thumb tracing the bulge his dick made in her cheek. “Need'a pull off if y'don’t wanna taste, baby… gettin so- fuck- so close.” He gives her hair a slight tug, like he might actually pull her off himself, but she doesn’t allow him; she just shifts her mouth, making light work of wrapping her lips around his tip, sucking greedily with and humming in protest around him. And it’s that that sends him over, twitching in her mouth as he sputters off shaky profanities before she feels shot after shot of white ropes hitting her tongue. Y/N can’t help but stare at him above her, relishing in the fact that this morning she gets to see him shake and shudder because of her.

Y/N pops off him gently, drawing back and humming at the lingering salty taste he’s left on her tongue. She graces the skin of his heaving abdomen with soft, fluttering kisses as she tucks him back into his underwear, before she crawls up his body, legs swinging to straddle his narrow hips. He’s got an arm thrown over his eyes, neck red and he seems almost bashful underneath her (which makes Y/N’s heart swell with adoration at just how him he is). She wiggles softly, folding her hands on his chest and laying her chin on them, waiting for him to say something to her. She blows a laugh through her nose when he finally looks down at her, eyes glimmering and lips pulled in the shyest smile she thinks she’s ever seen on him.

“You… yer good. Too good… just wow.”

---

Suffice to say lots has happened in the week following the pair quite literally eating their hearts out.

Firstly, Atsumu spent nearly every evening at her apartment that week. He waited every single day outside of her office building - her coworkers have taken to telling her how lucky she is that she has a man waiting for her with this whipped look on her face, but she swears up and down (with warm cheeks) that it's not like that. They eat dinner, alternating between picking up something on the way or cooking together - and by cooking, just picture Atsumu cutting vegetables in uneven chunks while Y/N scolds him for not adding enough water to the rice cooker. Normally this could happen: it's not super rare that they visit each other during the week if it's convenient - what is definitely not in the norm is the fact that Atsumu has buried himself between Y/N’s thighs thrice this week. It starts when Y/N looks too stressed on Tuesday evening, that Atsumu pulls her legs over his lap in an attempt to “massage some of the stress away,” which only leads to him manhandling her onto her back, promising to give her something else to cry about besides work.

Secondly, Osamu thought it would be best to alert Y/N that Atsumu had a very awkward conversation with a woman during lunch on Thursday - it was secretly his way of asking her to ask Atsumu what happened because both Y/N and Osamu were terrible gossips who feed off each other. When Y/N asked though, all Atsumu said was that the whole conversation didn’t matter, that the woman (who Y/N learned was actually Michimiya) wanted more than Atsumu was able to give to her. That their lives weren’t in sync or whatever, that they’d eventually manage to be co-workers at best. To say that Y/N wasn’t elated at the news would be a bold-faced lie.

Y/N feels on cloud nine, feels like she doesn’t even need to have a conversation with Atsumu about what their situation is currently. She gets to reap all the benefits of a relationship now, she’s physically taken care of and emotionally spoiled. Only thing she’s actually missing is the title but what's in a word, right?Atsumu wasn’t a natural flirt, always hid compliments behind a harsh delivery - but lately he’s taken to drowning Y/N in compliments, even the corny ones. Y/N expected a post-nut “god yer pretty,” but what occasionally caught her off was when he would open the door for her (normal) and say that “a pretty gal like you should never hafta touch a handle” (not normal). Subconsciously, Y/N feels like he’s only trying to compliment his way into her pants, but she chooses to ignore the way he coos at “just how gorgeous her eyes are” when he makes eye contact with her during a midnight snack.

On the second Thursday following the start of the Y/N-Astumu situationship, Y/N has no choice really other than to ask Atsumu what’s going on with them. They’re at the grocery store by his place (he’d convinced her to take the following day off work and spend the night with him), everything is more than normal when the pair’s conversation gets interrupted by a literal model-esque person, touching Atsumu’s shoulder. Y/N tries to sneak her hand from his arm, but he grasps her hand before she can get too far, looking at the stranger with a less-than-friendly expression.

“Oh Miya! I’m a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo with me?” He indulges his fan, never letting go of Y/N’s hand, even as she steps out of the camera’s focus. The stranger parts with a grateful smile to both Atsumu and Y/N, which feels unnecessary, but Y/N returns anyway. The friends continue their shopping trip before making the trek to Atsumu’s apartment building. Y/N is quiet, in her head about the whole fan interaction that lasted a total of five minutes, but Atsumu says nothing - even stays quiet until the pair are up in his apartment.

“Everything okay? Not bored of me are ya?”

She smiles weakly at him, settling to rest against his kitchen counter. “It’s just… I- nevermind it’s stupid.” She shakes her head, hand waving in front of her as if trying to shoo away the negative cloud above her head. But Atsumu quickly grabs her hand, pulling her into the space between his arms.

“It’s not stupid if ‘s how yer feeling.. What’s up?”

“Okay…” She starts, pushing away from his chest to give herself some literal and mental space. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back at the opposite counter to Y/N, who's mirroring his stance except her head is thrown back, eyes searching his ceiling for the right words to come next. “Are you always like… this… with the girls who give you head?” When she looks at him, his head is tilted to the left in confusion, making her huff anxiously. “Okaaay.. you’ve complimented me more in the past three weeks than any other person has in my entire life… is that normal for you to do with the girls hooking up with you or am I the exception? It’s not a big deal.. It’s just that you -”

“I compliment you because you deserve to be complimented, sweetheart… but if it makes you uncomfortable then I can stop.” He cuts in, before he uncrosses his arms, palms gripping at the counter behind him. “As for the whole hooking up part… is that what you want this to be? ‘Cos we can do that, up to you Y/N, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give -”

“But why? Until three weeks ago I was under the impression that I wasn’t your ‘type’ or whatever so why now are you suddenly on board with taking whatever I give you?”

He laughs, and Y/N wants to cry. Why wasn’t he taking this seriously? Y/N is good at feeling her feelings, but has a hard time clearly expressing those feelings into words.

“Don’t laugh a-”

“Who told you what my type was? If it was ‘Samu or Omi I swear I’ll -”

“You did. You said I wasn’t your type.” He balks, eyes wide and riddled with trying to think about when he said it. “It was forever ago, but you said it. You came back from Germany, I picked you up and ‘Samu had called while I went to the restroom and well.. I overheard you say-”

“Yer an idiot, made an assumption before ya knew the whole truth, baby. I was talking about this photographer that I was kinda seein’ at the time. M’brother asked why if she’d get mad that I chose to see you fresh off the plane instead of her, said it didn’t matter because she wasn’t my type.”

Y/N wishes that the floor of his ridiculously priced apartment would swallow her whole, or that if she pushed the right buttons on his fancy microwave she’d be able to rewind life to five minutes ago when she decided to start this conversation. Frankly, she feels silly and like she shouldn’t say anything else - she knows that her words conveyed a little bit of insecurity that she’s sure Atsumu doesn’t want to have to deal with.

A beat passes before both Y/N and Atsumu open their mouths, but he’s able to get out the words first. “You really thought that you weren’t my type?” Fuck his smug little desbelieving smile.

“Don’t gimme that look - you’re usually spotted around the globe with gorgeous people… ‘s it really wrong of me to assume that I wasn’t your type? Besides,” she starts, arms crossed around her middle while Atsumu takes a tentative step to close the gap between them. “It's not that it matters now since, y’know I know that it's not true.. Just hurt my feelings at the time and well…”

“You were supposed to be the smart one between us, got the college degree ‘n everythin.” He teases, arms reaching to rest on her waist. “For someone so smart you really missed all the signs huh? Why do you think I stepped in every time some guy tried to talk t’ya? Why d’ya think that I tried to take up all your weekend time, don’t get me wrong I love spendin’ time with ya but also didn’t wanna see you goin out with any guys you’d met when I wasn’t around.” By this point he’s got her chin in his hand, ducking his head slightly to make her look at him fully. “And why the hell would I eat you out at every possible opportunity once I’ve been given the okay? Just because I get thrown it all the time by others doesn’t mean that I eat out every -”

“Alright, alright. You can shut up now. I get it, I’m dumb. I just didn’t think -”

“Oh you got tha’ right - didn’t think at all did ya?” She groans, throwing her head back. She’ll never be able to get the image of his smug face out of her head, never going to be able to live down how for once in their years long friendship Atsumu was smarter than her. All he can do though is laugh, pulling her face back down to his and giving her forehead a soft kiss, making her stomach erupt with flutters.

“If you tell anyone about this conversation, I swear to god Miya I’ll-”

“Shh it’s always gotta be a threat with you huh? Why can’t you just admit that you were stupid for once?”

“Not happening.”

“Not even if it means you’re stupidly in like with me”

“No, because I’m not stupidly in like with you… I just adore your stupid self more than I’d ever admit in front of anyone else.”

He laughs, bumping his nose against her with a laugh before kissing her softly. Everything is great, life is great. Y/N loves Atsumu and Atsumu loves her, and she isn’t some sad, movie cliché any longer. She’s got this gorgeous guy who practically worships her, so freely giving himself to her. He pulls away from kissing her for a second, taking a moment to appreciate the way that her eyes are closed happily.

“Just so y’know… I adore you too.” Kiss. “But you are never allowed to call me stupid again… from now on I’m the smart one in this relationship.”

A/N pt2: and so that’s it hehe. thank you sm for reading I hope you enjoyed it. any little comments you have in the tags would be nice to read or yeah. this is my side blog so like hgjdgsh if I respond to you it’s gonna be from my main haha

#okay now I can type in the tags but basically I’m actually v proud of this not so little fic and so I just sjdjdjdj #if you’re reading the tags ily #tysm for reading my fic I appreciate u!! <3 #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x female reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #miya atsumu smut #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu miya smut

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Sweetest of Exiles - Two

A/N: The response to this little story has been insane! Thank you all so much for your kind words, it means the world to me. I hope you continue to like this very self-indulgent fic that has grown to be one of my favorite things I’ve written (even if most of it was written while sipping sprite+merlot).

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no Y/N), Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Warnings for this Chapter: MORE MAGIC!, Angst, blood and a bit of gore, not super-descriptive smut, Oberyn sometimes uses sex to make people smile. And it works. I once again wrote and “edited” this while sipping wine. All mistakes will probably not be edited. If you want to read more about Oberyn being in love with love, check out @pettyprocrastination and her wonderful hc’s about our favorite prince here!

Word Count: 7.6k (oops)

(banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites)

CHAPTER TWO: The Prince

Oberyn was only slightly amused when he heard the unmistakable sound of Pero grumbling (growing steadily louder) and a feminine reply (remaining calm and level, much to Oberyn’s delight) carry on for nearly the entire night before reaching a crescendo of an annoyed huff and a slammed door.

It would seem few people would actually sleep that night.

“She sounded pleased to see you.”

“Shut up, princeling.”

Oberyn only laughed.

When the sun came up the next day and the small company was ready to depart the ruined castle, Oberyn found himself beside the Magistrate, Orestes, as they set off toward Myr. Pero was leading the caravan while the lady—to whom Oberyn still hadn’t been formally introduced—was sequestered away in a carriage they had found in the castle’s stables. Orestes had muttered something about that it was one of the carriages of their original traveling party but no one seemed to care much. All of the men in their company kept their distance from the small carriage, strangely wary of getting too close.

All of it was so odd to Oberyn. He did not seem to feel what the other men were feeling. The all-too-brief glimpse he had stolen had proven she was a woman—beautiful and bloody—but not some formidable monster to fear.

If anything, the prince would have described her as delicate. Beautiful, obviously, but delicate.

A sudden shout from the back of the company had almost everyone turning to see a wave of fire encase the last standing spire of the castle before bleeding into the rest of the ruins. Oberyn’s dark gaze caught movement from the carriage; a hand slipping back into the shadows behind the curtains, skin dripping with something-

“Strange, is it not?” Orestes asked, looking at the fire. “Perhaps one of the men left a torch burning.”

Oberyn hummed an agreement but did not forget the strange sight of her hand slipping away just as the fires reached its crescendo. “Tell me about your lady, Magistrate. I have not had the pleasure of being introduced, yet.”

And Orestes quickly did, regaling the prince with tales of his time in Qohor and how Lord Ollo had been kind if not cold but his daughter was warm and welcoming and always ready to host him for a meal at their manse in the forest. “But it seems that the people of Qohor know very little about them aside from their names and how much power they can wield and how much gold they kept. They whisper that her mother was a sorceress, devoted to the god of Qohor and trained in Asshai. Gifted in magicks and all things arcane.”

“Have you not met her?”

Orestes shook his head. “Dead before I came to Qohor. And no one seems to be willing to speak of it. Tovar has met her, to my knowledge. My lady has told me that her mother used to bring him sweets after running around the forest outside their manse, gathering kindling for her hearth.”

“She spoke to you of Tovar?”

“Briefly, only a handful of times. Truly, until I met him, I did not make the connection of her childhood friend Pero and Tovar. She seems to guard their time together like a secret.”

“As does Tovar.”

Orestes turned his head to look at him, dark brows knitted together. “Does he not speak of her? If I held her notice for even a moment, I would never stop speaking of the time I basked in her attention. For it truly is a gift.”

Oberyn had to keep himself from smiling at the sound of unadulterated awe and obvious adoration of the magistrate’s voice. It was almost pathetic. But it was refreshing to know that at least someone was completely aware and proud of their feelings. Not that Oberyn was disappointed in Pero…right?

“She truly is someone to be treasured.” Orestes sighed and Oberyn bit back another laugh. “But, you said you have not been introduced? I thought surely Tovar would have made introductions. Then again, I thought I had hit my head when I first saw you together—seeing double.” He laughed. Oberyn did not. “May I introduce you?”

Oberyn easily found Pero’s form through the crowd and sighed. Stubborn man. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

The pair slowed their horses’ pace to flank the carriage and Orestes knocked at the carriage door as it rumbled along the old road. The half-torn curtain across the window slid away and the woman leaned her head out, greeting them with a smile. She looked far better than she had the last time Oberyn had seen her. Gone was the blood and the swelling had left her face—truly, if he did not know what state she had been found in, Oberyn would have just thought her a bit tired from her travels. Curious.

“My lady, I hope we have not disturbed your rest.”

“Of course not, Orestes. You know I welcome our little chats.”

Orestes cheeks bloomed with a blush and he ducked his chin for a moment. “As I treasure yours, my lady. But I would be remiss if I did not introduce you to Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell.” Orestes waved a hand toward him as he said her name, calling her The Lady of the Dark Wood.

Strange, Oberyn thought. Petal suited her much better.

She leaned a little further out of the small window and smiled at him. “You are far from Dorne, my prince.”

“You know of my country?” He asked. It was rare that someone from Essos knew much of Westeros aside from a few of the cities and trading ports.

Her smile widened and she looked radiant. “Only from my books. I would love to hear more, if you are welcome to the idea.”

“I am always happy to tell others of the beauty of my home.”

“Perhaps we could compare our homes,” Orestes interjected, his eyes narrowed just a touch as he looked at Oberyn before turning to smile at her.

She hummed, acknowledging Orestes, before her eyes cut back to Oberyn with some unspoken twinkle in her gaze. “I should like to hear of your home when we make camp.”

And she made good on her easily-dismissible comment, searching him out when they made camp that night. They were still a day’s ride from Myr Pero had commanded they stop for the night, not wanting to ride in the dark (and then the man all but disappeared with a handful of other men to search for something to hunt for the evening meal.)

She slipped from the carriage as the small band of men made camp and even helped one of the younger ones stabilize one of the poles on the muddied ground that surrounded them. The boy gave her a half-tilted smile in return and then hurried to finish the work for his tent.

Oberyn smiled as she approached, looking near-ethereal despite the bloodied wrappings around her arms and legs, peeking out from between her fine gown. He had just about finished setting up his tent and—just for a moment—lost his concentration as he watched her come closer. And the rope in his hand suddenly slipped from his grip, and the grounding stake scratched against his palm and tore at his skin.

The tent’s wall flapped in the wind until he grabbed it again and quickly righted the stake.

“Are you hurt?” Without waiting for his answer, she took his hand with a hum rumbling at the back of her throat. “It is not too deep.” Her dexterous fingers slid over the wound and he bit back a small hiss of pain. Blood oozed and she did not move her gaze from the wound as her fingers carefully bracketed the cut. “You will heal.” She pressed the small bit of blood between her thumb and forefinger, swirling it around to coat her skin, almost absentmindedly. Circling, circling, circling until it was only a thin coat of crimson on the pads of her fingers. A long breath pushed out from between her lips. “Most interesting.”

“What is?” He barely noticed that the sting from the wound lessened as soon as she pulled back.

She looked up at him and then wiped his blood against her skirts with a small smile, revealing nothing. “I hope you do not mind if I came to you before camp was settled.”

“Of course not, my lady. I am sure your company is much more pleasant than my brothers in arms.” He fastened the last tie on the tent and then held the flap back for her, silently inviting her inside.

The furnishings were a little grander than some of the other men’s belongings, but still probably far less than what she was accustomed to, if her fine dress (and Orestes’ constant blathering about her home) indicated. But she settled on his small, elevated bedroll without hesitation and patted the blanket next to her.

“I am sure you have many stories of your adventures. I hope you do not mind if I hoard your time for the evening.”

Oberyn couldn’t help but smile as he sat beside her after making sure the tent flap was tied open, allowing her to keep her propriety. He glanced down at his hand to see the cut seemed…like it had been healing for a handful of days already. He had seen stranger things—had read stranger still during his time at the Citadel. But this—she—was something to behold.

“But it seems you have stories to tell me too, my lady.”

Her smile widened. “You’re a bit more observant than your companions.” She leaned forward and, just for a moment, Oberyn caught a glint in her eye that made him think of a caged lion. But then it was gone. “What would you know?”

They spoke throughout the night, only leaving each other’s sides for a moment to retrieve a bit of food to sate their hunger, before retreating back to his tent. (Oberyn noticed how she, ever so briefly, sought to find Pero in the crowd and found nothing but unfamiliar faces before she turned back to him.) They spoke of everything—of their childhoods, their cultures, their parents, of their losses. But Oberyn knew she was waiting for him to ask the question he had, biding his time. And he noticed how she would easily skirt around Pero’s presence and absence in her life.

His dark eyes flittered down to the wound on his hand—now almost completely healed. When she caught him looking at it, she smiled over the rim of the wine jug she had produced from the depths of one of her trunks in the carriage.

“Ask, my prince. I know you want to.”

“How?” He asked simply.

Her smile widened and she handed him the jug. “You must be more specific. That question has many answers.”

Oberyn huffed, fighting a smile, and held up his hand. “The Maesters of Westeros have long said magic was all but gone from the world. It died with the last dragon, they said. And here you are, alive and well.”

She laughed, a light sound that had him laughing, too. “I am not magic incarnate, my prince. But it is true, most magic has been tied to dragons, to the wills of men who eventually shunned it for other things. But there are a few who have been blessed by they who watch.”

“The gods,” Oberyn said, knowing what she was saying. He took a quick gulp of wine before setting the jug aside, wanting to focus on her and the glint in her beautiful eyes.

She nodded and then reached out to take her hand in his. “Every gift comes with a price. Mine has been paid in blood and it requires constant recompense. I have touched your blood. You have paid a price. I must give you something in return.” Her smile was gentle as her finger traced the healed wound. “You have a great love ahead of you, my prince.”

He chuckled. “Oh? Have the gods found someone who will tame me?”

“Not tame you. No, no. They will never stifle or control you. Theirs is a gentleness to balance your wrath.”

“When will I meet them?”

She shook her head and pulled back her touch, leaving a cold spot on his skin. “I cannot see dates or years. I simply…see what I am allowed.”

“Have you seen Pero?”

Her answering smile was small—she did seem fond of smiling. “I have. Often. Even without the blood price, I would see him in my dreams. I dreamt of him the night he left, you know. And the night before he came again. A quiet comfort, to be sure. I had been selfish in year before, calling on the blood to show me his face, just show me his face, so I could know that he is well.”

And, just for a moment, Oberyn thought of a love-struck woman trying to catch a glimpse of her lover’s face in a crowded ballroom. But then he remembered what she had said—what Pero had said. “He left you?”

“Yes.” She said it so simply and it seemed to echo in his chest. “In the middle of the night. The day before my nameday, too.” She hummed. “A cruel present, my father called it.”

“Did he ever-”

“Tell me why? No. And he scarcely met my eye last night and then…” her words died on her tongue. “I am suddenly just a child again. Hoping for the boy I love to notice me.” The next laugh she let out was filled with bitterness. “Did he ever…speak of me?”

And Oberyn was nothing if not honest. “He did not, my lady.”

“Call me Petal. I know you think it suits me more.”

“You do not let the Magistrate call you Petal.”

“No. I do not.” She reached out to him and Oberyn readily placed his hands in hers. “But that can be our little secret, hm? Now, ask me anything. I know you have more questions running through your mind, and they do not involve Pero.”

“True. I do want to know everything about you. But I would be remiss if I did take the chance to ease your heart’s burden.”

“My heart is not burdened, my prince.”

“Call me Oberyn. And do not lie to me.”

She sighed but did not pull her hands from his even as she glanced away from his gaze. “It is silly to think of one person for so long and to know it is not returned or reciprocated. I tried to have him tell me why, last night. Why he left, why he did not care to tell me where he was going. And I only received his ire in return.”

“I do not believe it is ire, Petal,” he said, smiling at the sound of the nickname on his own tongue. It sounded right. “He is a stubborn man. Years of this life may have stifled that heart you knew as a young girl. But I promise you, it is still there. And it beats for you.”

“But are you certain, Oberyn? He has changed so much.”

“As have you, I am sure. But will you deny that your heart has not changed? At least when it comes to our shared companion.”

She shook her head, a smile starting to tilt up her lips once again. “I will not lie to you.” Her hands squeezed his. “You know, when we were children, Pero and I would spend almost all of our waking hours in the forest outside my home when my mother did not insist we attend lessons. The forest is almost always filled with mist and cloud—but that day, the sky itself seemed to want to seek the shelter of the trees. Pero would always count down between rolls of thunder, telling me he would know the exact moment the first bit of rain would fall. It was his gift, he said.”

The tent’s opening was suddenly filled by a dark figure.

Pero looked at him and then at the woman beside him. His dark eyes narrowed for just a moment but even as his face settled into a practiced apathy, Oberyn still saw the hardened gleam in his gaze. “I see you two have been introduced.”

“Join us, Pero,” she said with a hopeful tone. She held out a hand toward him. “I was just telling Oberyn of our time together in the forest—that time when we were caught in the rain-”

“It seems you have told him all that he needs knowing, my lady.” And while there was heat to his words, Oberyn heard the unmistakable hurt in his lover’s tone.

“Pero,” she said, “please.”

But he stepped back and disappeared back into the shadows of the camp.

“Oh,” was all she said before her hand slowly fell back down into her lap.

The sound of her own hurt stabbed at his chest and Oberyn quickly took his hands in hers and kissed her knuckles. He would have words with Pero later. But now, he would leave her alone. Not when he knew she felt so rejected. He would have her smile again. “Do not let him sour your mood, Petal. Am I not able to make you smile, too?”

She smiled, small, but it was still a smile. “I do believe you could rend smiles from stone, Oberyn.”

“Tell me more of Pero. Tell me anything you deem me worthy of knowing. Unburden your heart, at least for a moment.”

And that was when she finally pulled from his grasp and stood, walking to the tent’s opening. “Pero is…moonlight.” She hummed and angled her face up to look at the sliver of the moon. “It is lovely but untouchable.”

“There are stories about the moon being a man—a god—who loved a woman so much he came to this mortal plane to be with her.” Oberyn walked to her side and looked up at the moon, too, trying to see what she saw in that little ball of light.

“I think I’ve heard that myth. It ends sadly, doesn’t it?”

“Not all myths end poorly. Some are tales of hope, requited love, filled with joy.”

“I suppose that is true.” But her gaze did not move from the moon. “I suppose kissing a god would make an unhappy ending worth it, right?”

And she looked near ethereal in that soft light, so beautiful. And the prince always loved beauty. “Tell me, have you ever kissed a prince?”

“There are no princes in Qohor.” She turned from the moon to smile at him.

“Is that a ‘no,’ Petal?”

She laughed. “It is.”

And then Oberyn moved forward and pressed his mouth against her smiling lips. And she tasted so sweet—with a bite of something metallic—as he was able to lick into her wondrous mouth and her hands tugged at his tunic. Eager. His hands gently cupped her face and pulled her ever closer, letting her fall into his lap with another laugh against his mouth.

She was intoxicating.

Her fingers pushed into his hair and tugged just at the base of his neck, coaxing a moan from his throat. He only broke away to catch his breath, knocking his nose against hers and listening to the melodic tone of her breathless giggle. And then she was the one pressing forward to steal another kiss and then another and another.

And the prince would deny her nothing if it meant she smiled at him like that again. But he needed to know. “I am not him, Petal.”

“I know,” she whispered against his mouth. “And, tonight, that makes it all the better.” And she kissed him again.

His hands circled her waist and squeezed, just for a moment, before he reached out just enough to untie the last string on the tent’s flap, closing them off from the rest of the world as her mouth moved against his with ease.

Gently, ever so gently, he pulled at the laces of her grown and set it loose as he held her gaze.

“You may walk away at any time, Petal. Do not feel obligated.”

She shook her head and curled her fingers into his tunic, pulling him forward just a single step. “I am not obligated. I know you and I wish to know you.”

With that express permission, Oberyn took care to undress her slowly, carefully, like she was something holy, something—someone to be treasured. And she was. In the dim light of the tent, he marveled at her soft skin, the breathy sighs that slipped by her lips, and the decadent warmth she exuded as he sunk into her, letting his own sigh escape his mouth. She was magnificent. Her hips undulated in slow, smooth movements and his hands curled over her warm skin, needing to keep her close, to continue to feel her delicious cunt envelope him until he was truly spent.

“You are sublime, Petal.”

She gasped against his mouth as his grip tightened and he took control of her movement, hands tightening around her hips as his hips pistoned, faster and harder and then she was keening against his kiss-swollen lips and he felt her shake, felt her tight channel squeeze around his cock before a cry broke her lips. She threw her head back and his teeth sank into her skin, still chasing his own high. Again and again, his hips slammed into hers and then he was pulling out—just in time. He spilled across the skin of her thighs and stomach, painting her like some obscene canvas.

He leaned down to slant his mouth against hers and felt her smile against his lips.

“Oh, you make such pretty noises, Petal.”

“As do you, my prince. It has been a pleasure of my life to know I’ve caused them.” She gave a breathless laugh as his fingers swirled against the mess, rubbing it into her warm skin like a salve. Another happy sigh slipped by her lips as she reached up, fingers tracing across his chest. “I hurt you.”

He looked down to see four perfectly carved tracks over his heart. “It is nothing, Petal. A badge of honor.” Oberyn leaned down to steal a kiss against her pouting lips. “I will heal.” He murmured it against her lip and laughed when she huffed. “Now sleep. Or would you like me to tire you out?”

Oberyn woke with a start. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep with Petal curled over his chest and a bit of sweat cooling on his skin from their third bout of fucking—it had been peaceful and beautiful and wonderful. Waking up to find her crawling over his waist was and settling her weight on his stomach was not an unwelcome surprise but-

She did not look right. Perhaps it was the early morning light filtering in through the folds of the tent but her beautiful eyes were clouded, near milky, and then her clammy hands were grasping at his face, fingers pressing into his cheeks. “Lions and dogs on the wall and blood on stone.”

“Petal,” Oberyn whispered, gazing up into the unnatural depths of her eyes. “Petal, please-”

“The sun screams and is snuffed out.”

He reached up to grasp at her hands and let out a shuddering breath and her eyes shut. “Petal.” She felt cold under his hands. “Look at me.”

Her eyes opened and they were their usual, beautiful shade again. “The sun,” she said. “The sun…”

Oberyn wrapped his arms around her as he sat up on his bedroll, letting her shake in his grasp. “Where did you go, Petal? Tell me.”

She shook her head but sighed as his lips skirted down her shoulder. “You paid the price, my prince. And I gave what was paid for.”

“That was not like before—you were gone. Someone else took inhabited your skin.”

She shook her head. “The higher the price, the stronger the gift.” Her fingers tapped against the marks she had left on his chest.

“Is it always visions?”

She shook her head. “No. Not always.” Her head moved just enough to press another kiss against his shoulder before she stood and grabbed her discarded dress from the tent floor.

The casual way she said it had him thinking of her bloodied hand slipping back between the shades of the carriage just before the ruins were taken by fire. Not always visions, indeed. Oberyn watched her dress for a moment before rising and helping her tighten the lacings on the back. “Tell me. Why does your god demand such high a price?”

She turned to him as he finished and smiled. “I do not question him. He has given me a wonderful, fearsome gift and I will be welcomed by him with open arms when he calls for me.”

Oberyn had heard of the Black Goat worshiped in Qohor. A terrifying, dangerous god of death that some maesters called a demon. A god of death: strong and unwavering. “Why would you spend your life worshipping the end of it?”

“Death begets life begets death. Why should only one be worshipped? A good death is its own reward, is it not?”

Oberyn smiled and let his finger trail down her arm and grasped her hand in a soft grip before raising it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You speak as a warrior, my lady.”

“I am sure you have found most women are warriors in their own ways, my prince.” Her eyes sparkled with some unspoken jape before she pulled her hand out of his grasp.

He grabbed at the silken trail of her skirts like a besotted boy and let the fabric slide across his hands as he watched her leave, surrounded by the first rays of sunlight.

Pero was quiet as Oberyn urged his horse to his side.

“You disappeared last night.”

“What did she tell you?” Pero asked in return, tactlessly dodging Oberyn’s unanswered question.

Oberyn glanced back to see the familiar carriage still at the rear of the traveling party with Orestes keeping pace beside it. “She told me how you were her dearest friend and confidante during her childhood. She told me how you encouraged her gifts despite you not entirely understanding them.” Oberyn paused, watching the barest traces of emotions flicker by Pero’s features. Joy, sadness, fondness, despair—it was all there in the subtle ticks of his brows and the pull of his lips.

“Her father sent me away—three weeks to the day after her mother disappeared,” Pero bit out, hands tightening over his reins.

“For what reason?” Oberyn asked.

“He gave no reason. But he did not need to—it was obvious enough. I was a poor nobleman’s thirdborn son and she…”

Oberyn watched Pero’s face fall for just a moment before he looked away.

“It is of no consequence. She is safe. I have seen her smile again. That is what matters.”

Oberyn had to stop himself from groaning. “Truly, Pero, you are more dramatic than a mummer.”

“Hold your tongue, princeling-”

“She loves you—loves you still. Anyone with eyes can see that.” He paused. “Except for the magistrate, it seems.” Pero huffed but that did not deter the Dornish prince. “Truly, and for someone I trust implicitly to see things I cannot when I have my back turned, you are blind.”

“Enough, Oberyn!”

“No! She cares for you—cares for you even after you treated her poorly and refuse to meet her eye like she is some dirty urchin who attempted to steal your coin.”

“You spend one night with her and suddenly you are her confidante?” He hissed in return. “Just because you have been between her legs does not mean you know her. She is far more than you could ever hope to imagine.”

Oberyn reached out and grabbed Pero’s tunic, hauling him close before he could take his next breath. His horse whined at the sudden jostle of its saddle. “Do not speak of her like that. Do not speak of me like that. You are angry; at yourself, at the world, at the gods. But you do not have the right to shun her gentle smiles and company nor tell me I have used her like a woman in a brothel. We sought each other’s company when you spurned us.” Pero pulled out of his grip but Oberyn did not stop. “She asks for you, about you, every time. You have told me that no one is worthy of her attention or affection—but she has made it abundantly clear that she wishes to have your affections in the way you have garnered hers. She loves you, Pero. Loves you still. Do not run away for her again.”

But Pero only urged his horse faster, setting off toward the city finally coming into view. Oberyn only watched him go with a sigh and turned back to the rest of the company, telling them to ready for their entrance into the city.

Myr was beautiful—but it had been beautiful the last handful of times Oberyn had visited the city with the Second Sons. The city smelled of fresh earth and fresh linens and ink and filled with shining white stone structures and the bazaars were teeming with people selling their wares. Orestes was quick to show them to the ornate stables near the gates, making sure to loudly proclaim that their steeds were to be taken care of as if they belonged to Orestes. The carriage was also carted off and stored, Petal’s trunks quickly carried away by a small fleet of servants.

The Magistrate was instantly greeted like a prince or a king and quickly lauded by the crowds as they stepped out of the stables and closer toward the center of the sprawling city. Oberyn watched Orestes reach out a hand for Petal and she took it with a small smile, letting him pull her along into the crowd toward a large, gleaming building that had bits of greenery trickling up toward the carved windows. A villa, he supposed it was called.

The rest of the company followed Oberyn up the half set of steps and largely ignored the guards posted at the entryway who looked confused at their presence and waffling between barring them entry or simply standing aside. The inside of the villa was just as ornate as the outside, filled with carved columns and opulent stonework. The tapestries and carpets the city was famed for covered the walls and lined the halls and everything smelled of the dye Oberyn knew the Myrish artisans used to create a distinct shade of red.

It was not unpleasant, but a strange smell to be sure.

Orestes seemed uncaring that a group of mercenaries had come into his home and continued to point this or that thing out to her, telling her how much he paid for it or how it was made. And Petal, for her part, did seem interested in the words coming out of the magistrate’s mouth. Her easy smile never faded or turned strained and he heard her ask a question or two in return. Always a perfect lady.

Oberyn found himself smiling when she did, catching her eye when she turned and winking and delighting in the small laugh he earned every time. But then his mood was somewhat soured by the fact that Pero had quickly fallen to the back of the group, as if trying to keep as much distance as possible from Petal.

It hurt him, to see her rejected so openly. Even as Orestes had them all settled into the numerous guest rooms his villa provided and made sure they all had steaming tubs of water brought in for baths, Pero never once tried to slip away to try to find her. He stayed with Oberyn in their shared room, inspecting and re-inspecting his weapons while waiting for Oberyn to finish his bath. Orestes had invited several other magistrates for a celebratory dinner and to show his appreciation to the small mercenary company he had employed—and heartily paid already.

“Are you going to speak to her tonight or continue to sulk like a scolded boy?”

Pero’s head snapped up and he scowled. “I am not sulking.”

The prince only hummed and rose from the water. He felt Pero’s familiar gaze trail down his back and tried not to smirk—knowing the view was being appreciated—and grabbed the fine linen provided to dry off. “You are. And if you do not at least try to speak to Petal tonight, I will have to take matters into my own hands.”

Pero stood, setting aside his weapons and started undressing to ready for his own bath. “Oh? Is that a threat princeling?”

Oberyn wrapped the linen around his waist and turned to face his lover. “Yes.”

When dinner, a veritable feast, was called and everyone was escorted into a large hall, draped with red fabric and gilded statues of snarling lions, Oberyn made certain that Pero was seated beside his lady. This earned him a brief side-eyed glance from the magistrate but Oberyn paid him no mind—he had dealt with far more and was not afraid of the nobleman. He was too busy taking care of the hearts of two people he cared about—the magistrate could pout.

He watched her eyes light up as Pero took his seat and she slowly, ever so slowly, started to pull conversation from the taciturn man while largely pacifying the magistrate with simple answers or anecdotes in response to his longwinded questions or stories. The other magistrates tried to gain Oberyn’s attention but he was too busy trying to guess what the pair were saying to each other from the other side of the room. But he was happy when he saw Pero’s face almost seem to shudder before his lips pulled into the briefest of smiles, aimed only at her as she turned to her plate to stab at another carrot.

“Prince Oberyn, they say Dorne is filled with the finest mounts the world has ever seen. Sandy steeds, they’re called, no?”

“Sand steeds,” Oberyn corrected without looking at the man beside him. “And yes, they are the best in the world. Can run for a day, a night, and another day without faltering.”

“Surely not!” The man guffawed. “Not horse can-”

Oberyn’s head finally snapped to the side at that. “Perhaps the horses on your continent tire easily, but I assure you, the Dornish do not.”

The man at Oberyn’s side looked like he had been slapped. “I meant no offence, your grace.”

“Then take care with your words. I am a lenient man but I may not be so next time you speak out of turn.”

The man’s face somehow paled to a color similar of curdled milk while his neck became a violent shade of scarlet. “O-of course.”

Oberyn, satisfied, turned back his favorite show continue to unfold.

Just before the last course was served—some sweet dish Oberyn only half-enjoyed—Pero smiled again. And Petal smiled with him.

Oberyn could not help his own answering smile from spreading across his face.

The festivities—if Oberyn could even call them that with the level of boredom he had endured for politeness sake—had lasted long into the night and most of the revelry had moved from inside the villa to the sprawling, marbled pools that dotted the grounds. Some of the company took part, never willing to turn down free food and wine, but Oberyn was content to watch everyone else (mostly) enjoy themselves. Petal, unfortunately, had been drawn back to Orestes’ side after the meal had finished and Pero had pouted like a child in the shadows for a moment before taking a plate of food and walking back to his room. The magistrate paraded her around like a prized trophy, making all of his guests wonder at her presence—Oberyn thought, just for a moment, if Orestes even had an inkling of who the woman on his arm was or could become with the right push.

For a few moments, Oberyn entertained himself with a pretty servant girl before letting her go back to her duties after another servant spilt a large jug of wine across the floor and caused a fuss. But during the distraction, Petal managed to slip away from Orestes’ side and met Oberyn in the shadows. He handed her the chalice of wine he had and smiled when she took a large gulp.

“Your magistrate seems fond of you.”

“He is fond of seeming like a hero even you and your men were the ones to rescue me.”

Oberyn plucked the chalice from her hand and polished off the rest of the wine. “I do believe you might have rescued yourself, Petal.”

Her eyes sparkled in the low light and she smiled. Her fingers tugged at the simple belt of fabric around his waist to bring him forward just a few steps, closing the distance between them. Her lips brushed against his and he could taste the wine on her smile.

“You are a good man, my prince. I want you to know that.”

He leaned into her, stealing her breath as he licked into her mouth for just a moment. “And you have another good man waiting for you in our chambers. I shall keep the magistrate busy.”

She hummed and kissed him again before slipping further into the shadows of the villa in search of her moonlight.

Oberyn watched her go with a sigh before plucking another chalice of wine from a servant’s hands and quickly drinking it down. Pero would thank him later, he was sure. And as the moon continued its rise into the starry sky, Oberyn entertained and distracted the magistrate and his guests with stories of Dorne and the sellsword company’s exploits across Essos. Whenever he saw Orestes’ eyes start to wander, looking for his missing companion, Oberyn would start another story and make sure Orestes’ cup was filled. And soon—but not soon enough, in Oberyn’s mind—almost everyone had retired for the rest of the night, needing to sleep off their overfilled stomach or partake in a bit more of a carnal delight in the quiet of their chambers.

Oberyn smiled as he started to find his way toward his chambers and witnessed a few servants taking advantage of their lack of duties to kiss each other slowly in the darkened hallways. A quiet reprieve, well earned.

The halls twisted and turned but Oberyn eventually found the door to his and Pero’s chambers and slowly pushed it open, hoping to not disturb anything that might be transpiring. But he let out a disappointed sigh when he only saw Pero sleeping on the large featherbed. His discarded (and empty) tray was haphazardly placed on the bedside table. At least he was consistent.

Oberyn shed his tunic and slipped beneath the silken blankets, smiling when Pero turned toward him, seeking warmth.

“Where is she?” Pero murmured without opening his eyes.

“Did she not come see you?” Oberyn asked with a frown.

“She was only here for a moment.” The words were slurred on his tired tongue, eyes still not open. “Said she would come back…” The words drifted off and were punctuated by a hearty snore.

Oberyn sighed and pushed his head against the overstuffed pillows. Difficult. They were both so difficult.

For the second time in just as many days, Oberyn woke with a start. But now it was not the welcoming warmth of a woman’s thighs bracketing his own that woke him from sleep.

No. It was the quiet scrape of metal on metal, of hurried footsteps of someone striving to be quiet. Sounds which only meant danger.

Oberyn swept aside the blankets and stood, walking over to the window to see a group approaching, dark hoods and cloaks obscuring their features. One by one, the group moved almost-silently into the villa. Their weapons were drawn and ready; strange, foreign shapes he had never seen before with long handles. Oberyn looked to Pero to see him with his swords already in his hands despite his lack of armor.

Oberyn grabbed his own sword and they both ventured out into the dark hall. Soft sounds of a struggle grew louder and louder with each step they took. A door to their right suddenly burst open and a half-dressed nobleman ran out into the hall. A quick glance into the room showed the bodies of another man and the pretty servant girl Oberyn had kissed only hours before. The hooded forms they had spied earlier had filled the room while more were stalking silently down the hall—they cut down the nobleman before he reached the next turn of the hall.

Oberyn and Pero both turned just in time to skewer a pair of hooded men who were slipping up behind them.

“We have the girl. It is not your life we want,” one of the men said in a strange, strained accent. “Lay down your weapons and you will not be harmed.”

Someone—a woman—yelled and their eyes were drawn to her—to Petal—once again in the arms of a man who meant her harm at the end of the hall. But her eyes were not the glassy, tired eyes he had spied only briefly back in the castle ruins. These were alight with…something. Something dark.

There was a short shout and then the unmistakable thud of a body hitting stone. She stood over the corpse, blood dripping from a small wound at her shoulder and more pooling beneath her feet from her would-be kidnapper. It glimmered like black ink in the moonlight.

She moved like water, skirts lifting and pulling as if invisible waves had surrounded her. Slow and steady—deadly, like a rising tide. Words poured from her mouth in a language he did not understand and sounded shrill to his ears.

Pero’s hand on his arm kept him from moving forward.

“She needs-”

“She knows exactly what she is doing, princeling.” Pero’s dark eyes flittered over to her and looked almost…soft and sad. “Let her do what she needs.”

Her hand raised toward the group of men. Their slow steps stopped.

“The demon,” one of them hissed.

Her fingers uncurled, knuckles pointed and skin tight.

One stupid man took a single step toward her, blade held out in front of him. And then the words came again and the man froze, foot hovering over the ground. A terrible scream wrenched its way from the man’s throat. His face purpled. Blood started to spill from the corners of his eyes, his mouth, his ears.

“It was you! You did this!”

“Demon!” another shouted.

Oberyn didn’t understand and he could not take his eyes away from the man starting to convulse in front of him, like some sort of morbid mummer. The convulsions grew faster and faster and the screams he let out grew more and more pained until his chest split open like an egg and blood came rushing out. It sprayed over her dress and she walked forward, hand still outstretched. More words he did not understand tumbled on her tongue and the hooded men took a collective step back. But it did not help. One by one, each one of them started to shake and fall. The blood beneath her feet almost seemed to ripple with a heartbeat—her heartbeat, Oberyn surmised. She truly was a woman to be feared and loved. Sublime.

Shouts in Ghiscari soon filled the air. They were quickly snuffed out by the crack of ribs and spines, of bodies hitting stone.

Oberyn looked to Pero to see him quietly watching this woman, a strangely soft look in his eyes. He saw all of her. But maybe he always had.

There was another noise behind them and Oberyn turned, ready to fight, but only saw Orestes, still in his sleeping clothes. The magistrate stared at her with wonder in his eyes as soon as he stepped out into the hall. “You wondrous being. I always knew you were-”

A zealot’s body falling to the ground at his feet and the sudden gush of blood spattering against his skin quickly halted any other words on the magistrate’s tongue.

Two guards, tired and confused, seized the last handful of zealots and disarmed them. They could face punishment for their crimes here in Myr. Perhaps that would make everything easier for Orestes to explain away.

But that did not matter.

She did.

The hall grew quiet except for her labored breathing and then her knees hit the blood-covered stone.

“I want to go home,” she whispered. And even covered in blood, and having just slaughtered the men who would have harmed her for their own gain—she looked delicate. Not fragile—never fragile. But delicate. “Please, Pero. Take me home.”

Pero nodded immediately and sheathed his swords. He bent down to her and hoisted her into his arms, uncaring of the blood she trailed across his tunic. “I’ve got you, Petal. I’ll take you home.”

Oberyn watched Pero walk away with his Petal, heading toward the stables, and he only just caught her looking over Pero’s shoulder. With a bloody finger, she beckoned him to come along.

He could not say no.

#oberyn martell x reader #pero tovar x reader #oberyn martell imagine #pero tovar imagine #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #asoiaf #the great wall

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