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emerald-chaos · 2 years ago

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I posted 13,769 times in 2022

2,083 posts created (15%)

11,686 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@animehearteyes

@wecanfeelsofarbutsoclose

@suchababie

@sunshinebuckybarnes

@wolvesnkittens

I tagged 6,267 of my posts in 2022

#what’s queue pussy cat - 2,374 posts

#asks - 1,899 posts

#friends 💖 - 690 posts

#moon knight spoilers - 179 posts

#fic recs - 179 posts

#moon knight - 153 posts

#pedro pascal - 145 posts

#nasty nonnies - 116 posts

#ask games - 95 posts

#talented friends 💖 - 89 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? sorry daddy? so

My Top Posts in 2022:

Mob!Bucky & “you're talking on the phone and your lover quietly comes up behind you, wraps their arms around you, and starts gently kissing your neck. you begin to lose focus on your phone call as you concentrate on not making any noise.”

Hehehe Lee, my sweet. As we discovered, I actually did this exact request for you last time. I’m proud of you for staying on brand. I switched things up a bit and I truly hope you enjoy 🤍

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x wife!reader

Word count: 861

Warnings: explicit language, pet names, hint of a praise kink, cockwarming, SMUT 18+ only (MINORS DNI)

Divider courtesy of the beautiful @firefly-graphics

A small whimper fell from your lips when you felt the man beneath you shift slightly.

“Fuck.” The noise was small and meek—barely above a whisper.

“Darling…” Bucky whispered in your ear as his hands tightened their grip on your hips. “I don’t want to have to ask you again. You’ve got to be a good girl and stay quiet for me.”

A pair of soft lips made contact with the shell of your ear. You felt yourself clench around his length that was seated deep within your walls—filling you with a pleasurable sensation of fullness and adding just enough pressure to make you yearn for more.

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1,043 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

Your camera roll if you were dating Pedro Pascal (I)

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1,078 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

Hot Egyptian Nights

Okay besties—I gotta be honest. I listened to a spicy audio and let’s just say I got ✨inspired✨. The horny really fueled this and I wish I was at least the slightest bit ashamed or embarrassed but unfortunately I’m not. So, please enjoy this Marc Spector hornytime program.

Mistakes are my own as this was not beta read.

Pairing: Marc Spector x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: smut (18+ only MINORS DNI), chase kink, spit kink, dom/sub dynamics, choking, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, angry sex, spitting in someone’s face, and explicit language.

By clicking the read more button you are agreeing that you are at least 18 years of age or older.

“Listen to me, and listen to me closely—I’m only going to say it one more time.” The tone to his voice was eerie—it was obvious to you he had met his breaking point.

“Do not fuck with me. Anymore.”

Suddenly you felt a strong hand on your face, Marc’s hand in a v shape hold on your chin—forcing you to look into his blown pupils.

“Is that understood?”

The Cairo heat was suffocating. Every inch of your body glistened under a sheen of sweat and each breath from your lungs felt like a challenge to take. As your eyes studied the man’s face in front of you—you noticed how the brown curls were stuck to his forehead and how his nostrils flared with each trembling breath he took.

The two of you had gotten into an argument after he realized you had followed him to the city. He had made his parting words to you loud and clear.

“Under no circumstances are you to follow me. This is an important recon mission and I can’t think right whenever you’re around. You are to stay here and I’ll see you when I get back. Got it?”

The anger that filled his eyes as they locked with yours from across the bazaar was unlike anything you’d seen from Marc before. Not even the dark hat he wore could hide the way he looked at you. Instantly his jaw set into a hard line and he made a b-line directly to you. Roughly grasping your arm, Marc dragged you through the alley to the outside of the small hostel in which he had been staying in.

Which brought you to the predicament in which you found yourself currently. Words, tainted with venom and anger, were exchanged as the volume of your voices reached a new high.

Marc blamed you for being too naive and stupid to not think of the consequences of you following him. You argued how the two of you were supposed to be a team and instead he treated you like a burden.

It was maddening to you the way he acted like you were a hindrance rather than an asset. The reason from him was always the same—the idea of you getting hurt was too much for him to handle. There was no way Marc could put forth 100% whenever you were around.

You always thought that was a bullshit excuse and a way of saying he didn’t trust you to be able to handle your own.

As you stood before your lover—your own chest heaving—you decided you weren’t going to back down from him any longer. Instead of cowering with your tail tucked between to your legs like you always had before, you decided to stand up to him.

So, you gathered as much saliva as you could in your mouth.

And you spit it directly into his face.

Marc’s hand let go of you almost instantly, flying to his face to wipe your spit from his eyes. Doing so, he happened to stumble back a few steps before planting his feet firmly onto the ground.

“Fuck. You. Marc.” You hissed at him, anger filling your entire body from your head to your toes.

Marc’s eyes opened as he looked down at the saliva covering his hands. Slowly and menacingly, his head raised upwards and his eyes locked on to yours. The look he sported sent a chill down your spine. There were no irises to be seen within his eyes—only fully dilated pupils.

The scariest part, however, was that his breathing never changed. His chest still continued to rise and fall at a steady pace as the two of you stared at one another in a bone chilling silence.

Finally, after what seemed like millennia, he spoke.

“Run.”

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1,180 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

Tardy

Hi friends! So, my poor wips are sobbing in their graveyard (jk I swear I’m working on them—or at least trying) but that didn’t stop me from writing this piece. I was inspired by some…audio, and I just couldn’t help myself. I am a sucker for college!bucky and when inspiration strikes, I try to take it. I hope you guys enjoy xo.

All mistakes are my own, this was not beta’d. Massive shout out to my forever college!bucky muse @bitchassbucky 🤍

Pairing: college!bucky x college!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: explicit language, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don’t be like them—safe sex is best!), slight breeding kink if you squint, praise kink, pet names, fluffy morning sex, goofy established relationship talk, and SMUT 18+ ONLY (MINORS DNI)

By clicking on read more you agree that you have read the above warnings and are at least 18 years of age or older.

“Bucky!” You squealed, laughing as you felt your body being pulled backwards into the bed–metal hand wrapped in the hem of your sleep shirt.

The softness of the bed welcomed you back as Bucky hovered over you with a grin plastered on his face. You had long forgotten how many times you had been pulled back into bed since your initial alarm went off. As you gazed upon the man before you, a warmth began to work its way up your body–beginning at your toes and ending just before your shoulders. Bucky’s hair was equivalent only to a bird's nest–strands going in every which direction, molded by his pillow during sleep. Not to mention the puffiness to his eyes, indicating that the two of you stayed up entirely too late last night to be trying to get up for your first class of the day on time.

Small lines decorated each side of his nose as he looked down upon you, his own cerulean eyes taking in every square inch of your face. The familiar warm feeling flushing your body caused a nervous giggle to slip from your chest and your toes to curl slightly. Each time Bucky looked at you, it gave the reminiscent feeling of how you felt the night the two of you had met. In fact, he still looked at you like he did that night–like every time was the first time he fell in love with you all over again.

Bucky was a lot of things but there was nothing he was more than hopelessly and desperately in love with you.

“I need to go to class, Buck.” Your fingers toyed with the shirt that hung from his body, attempting to make your voice sound stern and serious.

“Mmm, no. I don’t think you do.” Bucky retorted softly, leaning down and pressing his lips against your jaw.

Your fingers slowly curled around the material of his shirt–a breath catching in your throat as his lips moved deliberately across the curve of your jaw. Bucky’s lips moved at a painstakingly slow pace, but each move was calculated–he knew the exact place in which to put his lips to make you forget all about anything that wasn’t him.

Effortlessly, Bucky moved from his position beside you to be directly over your frame. Both of his hands found home on either side of your head as his lips continued to work their way down to your neck. Your brain was still yelling at you to get up and not ditch class again–but all you could muster up was a pathetic, barely there tug on Bucky’s shirt. The action did practically nothing except earn a small chuckle from your boyfriend.

“C’mon, baby…” Bucky trailed off as his lips worked against your pulse point, sucking gently before pulling off with a small pop.

“Just a little makin’ out…we can still make it to class on time.”

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“It’s never ‘just making out’ with you, Barnes.” You grumbled, feeling your body melt into the bed.

Bucky simply grinned in response as he continued to move his lips along the expanse of your neck–alternating between kisses and sucks.

A groan passed through your lips and all thoughts of class drifted from your head as you felt Bucky’s hips rest against your own. It wasn’t difficult to notice the growing erection through the thin material of his basketball shorts, especially with the way his hips rolled slowly against yours. As you tried to get your mind to focus on Bucky’s current movements, you felt his hand drift down toward your thigh–his fingertips featherlight as they dragged upwards from your knee.

Shortly after your eyes fluttered closed, the warmth of Bucky’s lips had been removed from your neck. Your mouth shaped into a pout as you opened your eyes to see Bucky’s grinning face above yours once more. Before you had a chance to complain, however, his lips were pressed against your own. The familiar taste of mint toothpaste invaded your senses as his tongue earned entry into your mouth. You reached up to tangle one of your hands into his brown locks as you tried to hold him as close to you as possible.

Kissing Bucky was like something else entirely. There was something about the way his lips moved with yours that made your head feel light and airy. Each kiss from him was somehow different than the last–a mixture of hard and soft, slow and rushed, frantic and calculated. If there were no restrictions or regulations on how you had to spend your time, you would spend every last second of it with your lips pressed against his.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, chuckling softly as your face continued to chase after his. Huffing, you opened your eyes to pout at him once more. Buck ignored your pout as he reached forward and brushed a strand of hair from your face. Your eyes couldn’t help but train on his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips.

“Wanna taste you…” Bucky’s words were several octaves lower than they had been previously, the bass tones from his voice sending electric shocks through your body, “Can I do that, baby?”

The last few words faded almost to a whisper–a subtle decrescendo that lit every nerve-ending in your body ablaze with desire. Unable to properly form a response, you simply nodded your head with great fervor.

Bucky made quick work of moving himself down between your legs and peeling your panties off–tossing them behind himself with no concern about where they ended up. Bucky’s large hands pushed your t-shirt up your abdomen, just above your belly button as he leaned his head against the inner part of your knee with a sigh.

“There she is.” He whispered softly.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the man between your legs.

“What did we say about you talking to my vagina, Buck?” You chastised, doing your best to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest.

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2,016 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Love is a Bitch

Well besties, here it is. Four thousand words of pure, unadulterated filth. This is unlike anything I’ve ever written before and my first time going with a more dark plot. I hope you guys enjoy!

I owe absolutely everything for this fic to @lookiamtrying and @sgt-seabass for brainstorming with me in the group chat. Several pieces of dialogue in this fic were gifted to me by them both. A huge shout out also to @sweeterthanthis for beta-ing this for me and for always inspiring me and encouraging me to be my best hoe self. As with all of my fics, I also gotta thank my muse @animehearteyes😉. All mistakes are my own.

Pairing: softdark!Nick Fowler x wife!reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: infidelity, gun violence, death of a character (not a main one), mention of masturbation, unprotected p in v sex, pussy slapping, spanking, spit kink, degradation kink, dumbification kink, face slapping, rough hair pulling, posessive behavior from Nick, cum play/cum eating, Nick being a mean bastard and reader being not much better; SMUT 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

By clicking read more you agree that you are at least 18 years of age or older and that you are aware of the above warnings.

Being the wife of a workaholic is not easy—let alone when that workaholic is the head of one of the biggest crime syndicates in New York. There are many missed dinners, unanswered calls and texts, and a hell of a lot of pent up sexual frustration.

It had been weeks since the last time you’d been touched by someone other than yourself. None of your advances seemed to phase Nick—not when you sauntered into his office wearing his favorite set of lingerie, not when you wore practically nothing around the house while doing chores, and not even when you played up your moans and whimpers while masturbating in bed.

Each time it was a different excuse,

“Sweetheart, we are on the verge of closing a very big deal.”

“I just got back from my trip, baby, I’m exhausted.”

Whether it was something he said, an interrupting phone call, or bad timing on the part of one of his men—you had been completely abandoned by him over the last few weeks. Sleepless nights alone in your bed, discontent with minor touches after dinner, and a hole in your heart in the shape of your husband.

In the beginning you tried to be understanding. You were fully aware of what you signed up for when you married Nick—fully aware of the lifestyle that came with him. What you hadn’t expected, however, was for him to appear to lose all interest in being intimate with you or even giving you the time of day. It wasn’t like him to go without taking you apart at least once a week, let alone allowing you to go to bed unkissed.

The deal he had been working to close was a monumental one. One that would bring loads and loads of cash into the bank accounts of all of those involved and solidify Nick’s position at the top. You knew that this project needed his undivided attention, but goddamnit—so did you. You were touch starved, lonely, and so needy for your husband to pay you even an ounce of attention.

So, an idea came to you one day. An idea you knew would capture your husband’s attention to the fullest degree. It wasn’t a shining moment of yours—but a woman had to do what a woman had to do.

The weekend finally came and Nick was set to arrive home sometime around the afternoon. Finding a willing participant to take part in your plan wasn’t difficult. There was a rather attractive, fully sleezy employee at the country club who always had an eye on you and who was more than willing to come home with you when you asked.

Was fucking another man in your shared bed to make your husband jealous a bad idea? Probably.

Was it going to work? Absolutely.

As expected, the sex was incredibly subpar. The man rushed through the foreplay and you had to fake two orgasms before he slipped on a condom and began rutting his hips into you like a horny teenage boy. Each snap of his hips just as disappointing as the last—there was no feeling of fullness like there was with Nick, no clawing your nails down the man’s back—it was just penetration with a stranger breathing heavily in your face.

A few feigned moans of pleasure slipped from your lips as you pretended to be having a mediocre time.

That was, until you heard the front door open and shut.

As soon as you heard the click of the front door you ramped up your noises and feigned pleasure to 11.

“Fuck! Yes! Harder!” You moaned, grabbing onto the man’s sides as he faltered slightly—obviously taken back by your sudden change in demeanor.

“Y-yeah? You like that? Want me to fucking give it to you?” The man grunted, switching positions to prop himself on his knees and hold your hips as he thrusted roughly into you.

“Yes, God, please give it to me! Feels so good.”

A small smirk formed on your lips as you heard the heavy thud of footsteps thumping up the stairs. Suddenly and without warning, the bedroom door flew open—barely hanging on by its hinges as Nick slammed through. Nostrils flared, chest heaving—Nick’s eyes bore into the man on top of you as he took in the scene before him.

The man quickly pulled out as he stumbled, fell off the bed, and scurried to his feet. Shaky hands lifted into the air in front of him as he tried to mutter out words in a desperate attempt to spare his life.

“I-I-I didn’t know she was married, bro, I’m sorry! I promise, I’ll leave and I-I won’t say anything! You won’t ever see me aga—“

Without flinching, Nick pulled a gun from his waistband and shot the man several times. You jumped in the bed, pulling the sheet up over your chest as you watched the man crumple to the floor. The pool of blood around him quickly collected as Nick stood before you, breathing labored and gun still raised in the air by a steady hand.

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2,246 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i || part ii || part iii

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos (thank you!! 💞)

word count: ~9.4k

Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills.

You’re his only solace.

warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury

a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.

this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.

There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often.

He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.

He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns.

It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks.

If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves.

Waste away, all alone.

But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings.

The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing.

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.

Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.

It’s a harder descent.

...

Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.

The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.

It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.

He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.

He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.

(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)

His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.

Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.

There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight.

Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex. It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows.

It’s grim in its predictability.

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)

He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.

But, that night, he notes that he is not alone.

On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.

Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.

Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.

You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.

It feels comfortable, warm.

“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.”

Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.)

“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”

The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.

“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”

Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.

Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen.

“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”

His mouth is dry.

“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”

“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them—

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”

Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.

None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand.

“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”

You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.

(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)

Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.

...

The next days are long.

He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was.

They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future.

(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.)

Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted.

They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze.

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)

The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—

(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)

He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings.

Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming.

(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)

His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.

He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.

It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.

Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.

The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.”

“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest.

You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”

Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.

Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.

He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.

“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”

Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”

Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.

There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face.

The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.

As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.

“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?”

You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”

Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn��t.

You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa.

...

Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least.

There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.

It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.

It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind.

Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively.

It feels safest with you near.

Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.

“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap.

Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”

You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.

“Can I show you some?”

“...Constellations?”

“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”

Whatever you’d like, he’d do.

He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you.

Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible.

You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words.

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy—

You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”

So, you do.

Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.

“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”

Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none.

“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”

You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments.

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could.

“Do you see now?”

The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.

Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.

...

After that night, you always share the same couch.

You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.

You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky.

Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.

“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.

“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning—

“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”

You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—

“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.”

Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side.

(It was the first night you really touched him.)

(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.

His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.

...

He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness.

There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.

She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”

“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.”

“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”

“I can do it myself.”

She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do.

When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.

Safety scissors would be even easier.

It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.

The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan.

But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see.

He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection.

The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.

Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.

The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep. The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue.

It bothers him—

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror.

It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while.

He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.

His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can.

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant.

All the same, the trim feels good.

Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.

The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.

It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back—

It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.

“M-make it stop!”

Keigo stills.

A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!”

There’s a thud and thump from the other room.

“Please, please!”

Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him.

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.

He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.

The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.

They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.)

Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.

...

There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.

Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity.

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—

And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.

It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning.

At your bedside, he freezes.

Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.

You don’t even notice him.

The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much. The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering.

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.

Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.

He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with.

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach.

There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.

He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.

Then, there’s silence.

It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”

Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.

“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”

As much as he can, anyways.

You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.

“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.

“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”

We just don’t talk about it.

“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.

“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”

You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.

“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”

“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”

Keigo can’t disagree.

...

You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.

Your demon was near, though.

It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.

That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.

(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)

(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)

“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”

There was just you.

You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.

Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.

You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was.

It’s molten.

The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—

“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh.

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.”

Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet.

Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—

But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.

Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.

You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.

Then, you melt into him.

...

Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.

None of them make progress.

As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely.

...

Endeavor visits him.

It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.

You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.

It helps you relax.

Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.

And so, so sweet.

You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone.

It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.

He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.

After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.

Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes.

The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”

Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile.

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up—

“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart.

“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”

He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later.

Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard.

“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”

Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.

“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead.

This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too—

“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”

Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement.

There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try.

Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered.

...

You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks.

The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.

(Maybe it is.)

Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.

“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”

Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”

(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)

You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.

With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.)

Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.

Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)

There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.

The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.

She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business.

Some things never change.

She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.

“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”

He knew that, he had to know that, right?

His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.

He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat.

His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders.

“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”

“Well, obviously I can't fight—”

“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”

You’ve done enough.

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.

Keigo is Hawks.

His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.

(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.

You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.

Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.

It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.

You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands.

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night.

His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—

And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—

(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?)

But you’re not in the common room.

Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.

As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.

Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.

But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.

You both are making peace with it at your own pace.

The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.

“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath.

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.

Even with the inevitably of progress.

Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—

He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.

Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.

But he’s insatiable that last night.

The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.

The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten.

You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.

You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—

“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”

The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard.

Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.

Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him.

There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.

More, more, more.

By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone—

...

Keigo leaves the next morning.

The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.

He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn.

...

Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse.

How can he not?

His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—

Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died.

All disgusting reminders.

Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had.

But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he.

The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time.

He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.

He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.

...

When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.

Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave.

And won’t ever give him again.

Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.

...

The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes.

And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.

Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.

His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.

...

He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter.

Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it.

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears—

“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.

He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin

There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.

Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”

You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some.

“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”

Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought.

How much had you lost?

“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”

He had no idea.

You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”

Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.

“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”

And alive.

“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.

“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?”

Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.

The need to keep something precious safe.

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”

“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”

“... P-Pardon?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self.

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #hawks fanfic #hawks imagines #my hero academia #mha x reader #anyways tag wall #enjoy loves #smorch

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seijoh-apologist · 4 years ago

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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ruby-xanthia · 4 years ago

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Negan’s Ping Pong Kitten

Negan x (Female) Reader

WARNING!: This is a dark fic that includes Smut, Non-Con, DDLG, Abuse, etc. Do NOT Read if you’re easily triggered by those topics.

This fic is a scenario where you are captured by two Saviors and brought to The Sanctuary. Negan was playing Ping Pong when his men brought you to him, and he offers you a chance to win your freedom if you beat him in a match. But if you lose, you have to give him an.. awfully special favor in return...

“Let go of me, you asshole!” You shouted as one of the men dragged you out of the van. The daylight burned into your eyes as you were dragged before this huge, unseen building.

The other man slammed the car door shut, walking out towards you.

“You best be quiet hun, trust me right now is not the time you want to throw a fit.” He warned.

You gave him a dirty look, continuing to kick and struggle your way out as you entered the building.

This place was huge and empty, for the most part.

Checking your surroundings, you noticed in the distance what appeared to be three men who were.. playing ping pong? Not being given enough time to think, you were then dragged towards them.

“And that, my friends, is how you properly fuckin’ win!” You heard as two men walked away from the table.

The men threw you onto the ground behind the man who appeared to have just won the match. He must have heard you fall, because he turned around to face you.

The man wore a black leather jacket with this red scarf wrapped around his neck. His right hand was covered with a leather glove, and he wore large black combat boots.

“Now what do we have here?” He stared down at you. You twitched your arms, your head lifting up to face him.

“She was out scavenging, possibly for another group.” One of the men answered.

“Well then what seemed to be the problem with that, David?” He asked. “She was on our turf, sir.” David replied.

As they spoke, the man kept observing you.

“Alright, let her go; I’ll take care of her.” David nodded, releasing their grip off of you. They were about to walk away, but the man stopped them.

“Hold on, where do you two dimwits think you’re heading off to?” They paused. “W-We’re sorry, s-s-sir.” They both apologized, kneeling down to him.

“As you were.” They then stood up and made their way out.

The man then crouched down to look you straight in the eyes. “Hey doll, you got a name?”

You stared with absolute anger, refusing to say a word.

“No response?” He asked, holding his hand to his ear.

“Well, the name’s Negan.”

“Now you can sit and mope on the fuckin’ floor here, or you can win your freedom in a match of ping pong.”

Your eyebrow raised at him.

“And if I lose?” You asked suspiciously, as you stood up to face him. He was a lot taller than you expected.

“Then you’re stuck here, but obviously with a consequence..” He smirked.

“What might that be..?” You asked, your suspicion growing.

“Well..” He leaned in ever so close to you, “You’ll have to find out...” His eyes shifted downwards, hinting at something.. not ideal or flattering in the slightest.

You instantly spit in his face, shocked and full of rage by his offer.

Negan started to chuckle as he wiped his face off with his glove. His facial expression suddenly changed.

“Well, I guess fuck ping pong then!!” He laughed as he grabbed you roughly by the shirt, dragging you up many flights of stairs. You struggled and pushed for freedom of his grasp.

The door opened with a loud slam as he threw you on the ground. You both appeared to be in a bedroom, you assumed it was his.

Without thinking, you stood up ready to fucking strangle him, only instantly stopping in your tracks to the sight of Negan holding a baseball bat. “This is Lucille, isn’t she fuckin’ awesome?” He laughed as he stroked her barbed-wire softly with his fingers.

He held Lucille up to your leg, her barbed-wire poking your inner thigh,

“Shirt off, now.” He ordered.

“Let me go!” You shouted back.

You only received a cheeky grin in return.

“You already missed your chance with that one, sweetheart.”

You wept, giving in and slowly removing your shirt. This was too revealing for you.

Negan began to inch closer to you. You kept your guard, backing away from him each step. Eventually, your back was pressed against the wall.

His eyes stared into yours for what seemed like an eternity.

Placing Lucille softly on the table next to you both, he turned back to you. His hand was gripped onto your throat; with that same damn grin on his face, he traced his tongue across his teeth.

“What are you gonna do to me..?” You asked him with a shaky voice, his hand reaching for his belt.

Tears began to fall from your eyes as you heard it begin to unbuckle.

No this cannot be happening right now, there’s no fucking way.. this has to be a dream, so wake the fuck up Y/N!! Wake up!!!

You snapped back into reality as shirtless Negan grasped you by the waist, pulling your body against his. The mountain in his boxer-briefs hugged onto your crotch. You could strongly smell his cologne mixed with cigarettes and liquor.

“Please stop..” You whimpered, hating how warm you felt in his arms.

“Not happenin’ babe.” His fingers eagerly traveled down, tracing the inside of your waistband. The feeling of his hands so close to your crotch made you shiver.

Negan pushed you roughly onto the bed. Your first instinct was to cover your face in shame as he pulled your pants off. Your face turned completely red as the goosebumps began to form on your skin. Your body was revealed; all for his hungry eyes to see.

“Well, would you look at that! You look absolutely fuckin’ gorgeous like this, y’know that sugar?”

All you could manage to do was sob into your hands.

“You don’t gotta cry sweetheart, the fun has just begun!” He laughed.

Negan took his leather jacket off, placing it around a chair. He then gently made his way on top of you; your faces just inches away from each other.

“Come to think of it, I haven't gotten your name doll..” He explained softly, stroking your chin in a gentle manner.

You hated the fact that him being more gentle calmed you..

“I at least want to know who this fine and lovely lady is that I'm fuckin’ on this fine and lovely day.” Negan told you as he continued to stroke on your neck.

“If I tell you will you l-let me go..?” He shook his head. You should have known.

You let out a shaky sigh.

“My name is.. Y/N...”

Negan smirked at you. “Y/N? Well that’s fucking fitting.” He adjusted himself. “Well then, Y/N baby, what’s my name..?”

“Your name is Negan; I already knew that.” You scoffed. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly.

“Nope. Not to you cupcake. What is my name..?”

“What the fuck else would be your name?!” You snapped.

Negan turned his head, and everything switched. Immediate regret sank in.

“I..I mean... I-I’m sorry.. I“ He cut you off, shoving two of his fingers down your throat to shut you the fuck up.

Beginning to choke up, the tears falling heavier down your cheeks.

“You best shut the fuck up, doll. You’re only making this worse for yourself..”

“There is always more.” He growled in your ear.

It was then you felt his twitchy hand wandering up your waist.

The way his hot breath touched your skin, the way you hated feeling this vulnerable. You knew what was coming next; all you wanted was for him to just get it over with already.

Negan lips crashed on yours. He kissed you in a rough, messy manner. All you could taste in that moment was him.

His hand traveled up to your chest, as he slid his fingers under your bra. You felt warm but absolutely torn as he fondled you, treating you so provocatively.

“Why are you so god damn tense, sweetheart? Could you just fuckin’ relax a little? Daddy’s not gonna hurt you unless you give him a reason to.” Negan chuckled.

Why is this happening to me...? What did I do wrong..?

All of a sudden, it didn’t seem to matter much anymore.

Negan’s hand was in your underwear.

It began to feel too hard to breathe.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, It’s like a jacuzzi down here! Daddy loves how much of an eager little girl you are for him..”

“N-Negan-..” You tried to speak, but of course, he cut you off.

“Relax darling.. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so fucking good. By the time he’s done with you, you won’t be able to run away from him anymore.”

“Hell, you won't even want to!” Negan laughed.

“J-Just get it over with..” You cried to him.

“Oh, baby! I’m gonna take my sweet fuckin’ time with you!”

His two fingers shoved inside of you, your body reacting with a long harsh twitch.

Negan let out the biggest laugh. “I fuckin’ knew it! When I saw you I thought ‘well shit.. here’s a lady who ain’t gettin’ much’.”

“or.. maybe just not as rough as she wants it...?” He chuckled as he began to move his fingers deep, forcefully rubbing your walls with every push.

Breathing growing heavier, you bit your tongue in panic. The moans began to escape you uncontrollably.

"You better keep that shit up. Daddy wants to hear it all.”

You felt as if you were just lit on fire. Absolutely unbearable. Every inch of you felt shameful. You began to sweat uncontrollably.

“O-oh god N-Negan.. no... please stop...”

“Oh god Negan yes, please keep going!”

Your eyelids closed as you lifted your arms above you, in hope of being able to cover your face from this horrible scene; only to have Negan’s grip forcing your wrists above you.

“Nope, that’s not allowed. Daddy wants to see the look on your fuckin’ face when you make a big, dirty mess on him.”

“Open your eyes and fuckin’ look at me, doll.”

Your eyelids opened. Slightly shivering in terror, the sensation of his touch was growing to be too much for you to handle. Knowing soon, your body would betray your heart. Negan knew this; he could just sense it.

“Now.. you’re gonna cum for Daddy right...?” He asked, his voice eager.

You truly didn’t want to answer him. Everything was just too much for you. You could barely even think straight.

WHAM! Negan smacked you right in the face, forcefully grabbing you by the jaw.

“You speak when you’re spoken to!” He roughly demanded.

The pain began to settle in your cheek, as you tried to gather up an answer.

Your head nodded, but by Negan’s facial expression you could tell that wasn’t enough for him.

“..m..mhm...” You managed to moan to him in desperation.

His eyes lit up at the sight of how dirty he truly made you feel.

You felt weak for giving in; for letting him control you like this. As if he owned you or had the authority to speak to you that way. But, of course, with the world being shit you had no choice. There’s nobody to save you, nobody in charge except for him.

Negan; and only Negan.

At that moment your climax had reached. You tensed up in Negan’s arms, as he continued to laugh at you.

“For someone who truly doesn’t want it, this very much shows fuckin’ otherwise.” He let out a slight chuckle.

He slowly pulled his fingers out, shoving them in your mouth.

“..Oh yeah you like the fuckin’ taste of yourself, baby?” He moaned in your ear. The sudden urge to gag came rushing over you.

No words came out. Negan had just stolen you with his very two fingers. You were in terror for what came next, all you could think about is how much you wanted out.

What scared you more is the fact that you somehow enjoyed being sexually tortured by this man.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, forcing you to sit up on the bed. Your legs felt numb.

“Hey sweetheart, Daddy’s gonna need you to take off every-single-fuckin’-thing keeping him from seeing those pretty little tits and that pretty little cunt.” He demanded.

You obeyed. Crying almost endlessly as you prepared yourself, revealing your body to him.

He stared at you, unable to look away.

“Oh, baby, you seriously look irresistible!”

“I’m gonna need you to give me a little bit of a twirl, doll.”

You twirled for him.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous. Come here you.” He growled with excitement.

His hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back onto the bed.

He then placed your hand on his crotch.

“Rub it.” He commanded. Rubbing him the way he wanted, you could feel how rock solid he was.

You felt strange comfort from his fingers rubbing the tears off your face. Your heart was beating out of your chest, unable to recognize your true feelings.

Suddenly Negan grabbed you off the bed with him.

“On your knees, babygirl.” He ordered.

Legs shaking uncontrollably, you obeyed.

“Take them off.” He pointed to his boxers.

All you could feel at this point was defeat; but even then you still tried to sway him.

“I-It’s okay Negan I understand.. I-“ Negan immediately cut you off, pulling you roughly by the back of your neck to face him.

“If you understood you would be listening to me darling... Do you really wanna piss me the fuck off..?” He growled, menacingly.

“Take. Them. Off.” He demanded, pushing you back onto the ground.

You did not in the slightest want to see what was in front of you. Your fingers wrapped around the waistband of his boxers as you slowly pulled them down.

You immediately covered your face, in little hope of avoiding what was about to happen.

Negan caressed your cheek, forcing you to face him anyway.

“Daddy feels a fuckin’ tooth scrape him and you’re fuckin’ dead, doll.” He threatened, yet in such a soft tone of voice.

Truth was, a big part of you would rather be dead than have to suffer from this.

He grabbed you by the back of the head, shoving his man shaft deeply inside of your mouth with a grunt.

You began to slightly suffocate as he continued to push your face closer to his pelvic bone.

“Y/N; darlin’.. I think I almost came right there...” Negan groaned, but let out a slight laugh.

He began to thrust, suffocating you with every push inwards. His shaft slid deeper and deeper inside your throat with every thrust, moving faster than the last.

“Just want to make sure, are you asking me to stop?”

You couldn’t reply because his massive dick was down your fucking throat, of course you wanted him to stop.

At least you thought you did, but even then you couldn’t protest.

“No? Alright sugar.” Negan grunted, thrusting even faster.

All you could feel was his cock twitching in the roof of your mouth.

“Just to let you know, Daddy’s about to come. So when he does, you better swallow all of his milk. Not one drop is to be on this very floor; do you fuckin’ hear me sweetie?”

You tried to nod.

“That’s a good girl..”

And with one grunt and a painful push, Negan’s semen filled your mouth. The tears wouldn’t stop. You tried to swallow all of him, but there was just too much.

As Negan pulled out with his stuff leaking down your bottom lip, eventually dripping down your chin. He stared down at you, and that’s when you knew this was it.

He kneeled down to face you on your knees, using his finger to scoop up his leftover junk on the floor. You both stared at it on his finger for a few seconds, until he shoved it down your throat aggressively.

“I told you Y/N..”

Your eyes met his, your gaze sorrowful with pure regret.

“I fuckin’ told you.”

“You know what's gotta happen now, doll.” He sighed.

No god please no.

Negan lifted you up off the ground, with a slam onto the bed. He quickly climbed over you, making absolutely sure to assert his dominance over you more than he had previously in that very moment.

His belt was in his other hand. He grasped your wrists, wrapping them tightly and trapping them above the headboard.

You were stuck as his fingers began to rub your clit in a rough fashion. He gripped onto your waist firmly.

There was no going back now.

“Tell Daddy how much you want his cock; how much you want him.” He groaned in your ear.

You slightly moaned in response, not being able to answer him.

His hand pinched on your thigh, his fingernails piercing your skin. You yelped in pain.

“How fucking much baby..” His teeth gritted.

“S-so.. m-much… I-I…. I want you..” You cried to him.

He chuckled at your misery as he stole you right then and there, filling you to the brim as he entered inside of you with one hard thrust.

You moaned in agony as you felt every inch of him become one with you. It was then you had given in. This was Negan claiming you.

Negan owned you; from then on and for the rest of your days in this sorrowful world.

“You repeat after me; you are mine.”

“..I-I am y-yours..”

“You belong to me.”

“…I b-belong to you..”

“You obey me.”

“..I o-obey you…”

Weakness overcame you as Negan took enjoyment in completely and utterly gutting your insides with his massive cock, over and over again.

The feeling was quite painful but absolutely euphoric at the same time.

This man hurt you, but you wanted him to do it. You didn’t want him to stop. Have you gone mad?

His hands gripped you tight, his nails indenting your bare skin.

“..N-N-Negan…”

BAM! A hard slap right to your ass.

“What the fuck is my name, Y/N?”

“D-Daddy!..” You cried.

Negan gave you the biggest smirk you’ve seen from him yet.

“That’s fucking right, princess! You’re such a dirty little girl..” He groaned as he pushed himself on you even move, moving faster and faster.

You gripped the sheets tightly, trying not to fall apart as he continued to impale you. Every thrust turned you into a fucking mess.

“Oh yeah.. You fuckin’ like that, sugar..?” He asked, his hand aggressively grasping your throat as he continued to move faster than ever.

You could feel your orgasm reaching near, as he continued to thrust aggressively.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for Daddy right fuckin’ now.” Negan growled.

You moaned in response.

With one hard and forceful thrust, you let out.

Screaming as Negan’s cock pulsed inside you, filling your womb to the absolute brim with his seed.

Everything began to burn. Negan had absolutely torn you to shreds with all the strength he had.

He slowly pulled himself out of you and placed himself onto you possessively.

The tears began to fall down, but you let a smile.

“Well doll,” Negan stared down at you, laying there still on the bed as he began to dress himself.

“Looks to me like you are gonna make one hell of a wife.” He chuckled.

——————————————————————————

This is my first ever posted fanfic so please let me know how I did, I would love your criticism! <3

I hope all you JDM/Negan sluts enjoyed this one.. ;)

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #fanfic #smut #negan smut #tw #the walking dead #the saviors #writing

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dontmindifidontt · 3 years ago

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EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Chapter 3: Nanami's POV

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 1873 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: That Day from Nanami's pov. Warnings: None yet.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

11 am. That day.

Phone calls with angry clients. Emails with angry clients. More calls. More clients. Still angry. Pacing back and forth in the cramped office kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. More emails. Another call, this time with a not so happy investor. Checking the clock. Still waiting for that coffee. Still only sticking around in this job for the money.

I lean back in my chair and drum my fingers atop my nearly bare desk, resting my chin in the palm of my other hand. If I quit now, I begin to muse, I'd have saved up enough to last me a few years before needing to find work elsewhere. No, I wouldn't want to return at all. I need to wait longer so I can be out for good. Though I don't know how much longer I can take...

Check the clock again, it's 11:50am. The slightest twinge of excitement escapes through the deafening exhaustion in my brain: it's almost lunch. I figure I'll grant myself the short break to think it over and come back to my desk with a clear mind.

I rise and sling the grey jacket of my suit back on, pushing my chair in and quickly making way for the elevator. It's Friday and my usual spot for lunch has stopped selling my go-to, so I ought to try somewhere new. Perhaps it wouldn't kill me to buy from an actual bakery, it's not like I can't afford to stray from my usual convenience store.

The walk isn't far, but I take the time to consider my options, consider my future. All I want is to live life on my own time, without distraction from work or other people's problems. Everywhere I look, all I see are problems. Money problems, loneliness, or even worse, all the problems cursed energy brings. I try to shut it out and stick to myself. I tell myself that's not my job anymore.

I spot the bakery ahead and the negative thoughts begin to clear from my mind. To put it plainly: food makes me happy, it's one of the simplest pleasures I enjoy. I can't help but at least briefly forget the problems of the world when I'm about to take a bite out of a favorite meal.

I pull the door open and step inside, briskly walking to the register eager to begin my lunch. Impatient, I clear my throat to signal I'm ready to pay - only to be met with a reminder of why I was so desperate to clear my head in the first place. Tilting my head to get a better view, I see it clear as day: a fly head curse wrapped around the woman at the register's wrist. In an effort to ignore it, I avert my eyes, only to meet hers.

She's a few years younger than me, though I immediately recognize the familiar look captured in her eyes. The look of someone who's tired, overworked, and waiting on the clock to crawl forward. There's something else in her eyes, though, almost a bit of wonder. Is that aimed at me?

"Just the sandwich, please," I say while taking out my wallet, trying not to stare. There's no denying she has a pretty face, a beauty that appears effortless or natural, even when overtired from what I imagine was a long week of work. How one person can manage to look so charming even when carrying around the weight of a fly head I have no idea.

I notice she looks to the side before she speaks again, as if she has to look away to concentrate on what she's going to say next. She asks if I'd like a receipt and I decline, still watching over her pretty features and beginning to feel badly she has to work with that extra weight on her wrist. I'm usually better at ignoring this... there's just something about her expression. I can almost feel a sense of silent, shared exhaustion between us. I'm sure she works just as hard as I do, and she does it with a curse hanging off her body, and yet here she is smiling up at me when I'm just a customer who makes her day even busier.

I can barely make it to noon on a Friday without threatening to quit.

I turn to walk away only to hear her voice call out behind me, "come again please." With that request, something clicks. I pause as I reach the door. I tell myself these next words are based not only off of my attraction to her, but also out of a want to help someone whose work actually means something. It wouldn't cause me any harm to remove that fly head... in fact, I'm sure helping her live a more comfortable life would end up positively benefitting a lot of other people in return. Her work brings sorry people like me even a fleeting moment of joy. "Thank you. I will," is all I say.

The rest of the afternoon I couldn't shake the thought of returning to the bakery. Not returning next week when I'd order another lunch, or even Monday morning when it would open again. I had to return today. But how do I just reappear to secretly exorcise a weak cursed spirit? I'd look ridiculous to the non-sorcerer eye. There needs to be another reason for my return. I could use the situation to my advantage and ask her out to dinner... It's a pretty selfish solution, I'll admit, but the excitement and nerves building up in my stomach at just the thought were confirmation enough. She had a certain glow about her despite the clear exhaustion of her work, I can only imagine how she'd clean up for a proper date.

It's decided then, I'll offer to give my help over dinner.

6 pm. That day.

I arrive at the door at 6pm as promised, with her appearing only a few seconds later. My prediction was correct - having changed from her flour-dusted work attire to a much less casual ensemble made her beauty bloom. Seeing her round the corner in a perfectly fitted dress and heels I had to hide a smile, she must have matched her attire to fit the occasion of my own.

After introducing ourselves I turn to lead the way, excited to share my favorite steakhouse with my date. I answer her question about where we're headed by stating I'd assume that she'd prefer to spend dinner somewhere totally different from a bakery.

"What's the opposite of baked goods? A sushi bar?" I catch her eye as she asked this question, and I see a gleam of excitement and joy that hadn't yet presented itself in the short time I'd known her. She looked so eager and somehow already grateful... I wanted this happiness to last. Sushi it was then.

"Now you've guessed right. It's just around the corner here," I answer while internally sighing in relief for knowing a sushi bar nearby. It's one I used to frequent in the evenings before work began to keep me at the office too late on a regular basis.

As suspected, the hostess recognizes me straight away and we're seated in my former usual spot. Sitting face to face with my date now, I can't help but stare.

She has her hair pulled back, accentuating her cheekbones and putting each beautiful feature of her face on full display. Full lips, long curled lashes, and an ability to stare at me with eyes that will me to hold eye contact without breaking.

"So, how exactly do you plan to heal the ache in my wrist, Not Dr. Nanami?"

I guess she wastes no time in getting to the point. I don't blame her, considering I'm still a stranger and all... I chuckle at the thought of how selfish this entire idea was of me once again. Taking advantage of a curse as an excuse to share a meal with someone this beautiful? I have to laugh.

I reply to her question with the the truth: that I'll distract her while I swat this weak curse away and heal the soreness. Though I wasn't expecting to do this so soon... I need to think fast on how to create a proper distraction.

In the brief time I've known her I have noticed her tendency to look away while deep in thought. I'm counting on my observation to hold true when I blurt out, "Why don't you tell me three things about yourself, and when you're done I'll do the same."

At first she's taken aback, but just as I suspected she instinctively turns her head to the side while deep in thought, searching for a response to my proposition. Now's my chance.

I raise my right hand just a few inches above the table, keeping it low enough not to catch any attention. With fingers aimed at the pesky green fly head I flick my wrist with a snap, sending it flying and disintegrating in thin air.

She doesn't get the chance to finish even the second item about herself before feeling a difference. I smile and ease up in my seat. She looks so pretty with that hint of amusement in her eye. I feel myself hungry for more... more of her expressive eyes staring up at me, pleasured and thankful.

It hasn't even been an hour and I'm enjoying her company more than I expected. Did I hear her say she likes to cook earlier? I want to keep hearing more about her...

"So you never finished," I offer as a means to continue the conversation.

As she shares more about herself I find myself relaxing more each second, soaking up just how comfortable I feel in this moment. I'm not worried about the problems of those around me, I'm not worried about watching the clock or wishing time would pass - for the first time in a long time I'm actually wishing for the opposite.

"So you stay out of people's business, and yet here you are providing unsolicited help to me along with asking me to describe details about myself over dinner?" she asks. I barely let out an audible laugh at the way she worded this - a fair question no doubt.

"Both of those things are correct, yes," was all I let up in my response. I could never tell her the true explanation behind this date, the way I used a weak cursed spirit to my advantage. I'd sound beyond unbelievable and absurd.

We continued to play slightly coy and stare back at one another, enjoying the solitude of each other's company. By the time our meals were finished and the check arrived it felt as if the day I experienced this morning and evening I'm experiencing right now were a part of two entirely different years. Can meeting just one person make such a difference?

I closed server's book with the signed check inside and stood to pull out her chair. "Shall we?" I ask while lifting my forearm for her to hold on to as she stood. "How about I walk you home?"

.........

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Thank you for reading! Please inbox me to be tagged or to say hi :)

#jjk nanami #Kento Nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #slow burn #jjk smut #nanami pov #nanami jjk #there will be smut I promise #protective nanami #kento nanami #fanfic

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magioftheseas · 3 years ago

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Back to December

For @badthingshappenbingo and @i-demand-a-hug

Prompt: Don’t You Dare Pity Me taken from here.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Implied (?) mental instability and implicit references to death.

Summary: It was another morning where he wakes up entangled with Akechi Goro, and his phone buzzes.

Notes: That prompt could be stapled onto any shuake fic, because these two just be like that. But it’s friendly friend’s birthday and I thought I’d complete something more bitter than sweet. It’s been a while since I finished another prompt on my bthb, so here’s to another bingo! It’s pretty short, too, so I hope it’s an easy read in that respect.

***Alternate Ao3 Link*** Commission? Donate?

It’s not just any other morning, but Akira wakes up like it is. Face half-buried into chestnut locks, spooning a warm, sinewy figure—Akira wakes up with a contented sigh. The other stirs, but remains otherwise asleep. Akira is half-tempted to squeeze his eyes back shut and revel in the scent of cinnamon spice and jasmine.

But his phone buzzes, so he has to detangle himself to answer.

>Coming to get you. Will be there at eleven.

He’s half-tempted to text Ryuji back and tell him not to bother. Obviously, he doesn’t and instead texts back a single letter. With his usual smile, he refrains from chucking his phone and instead sets it carefully aside.

Akechi shifts, rolling onto his back. He barely rustles the sheets, but Akira tugs them over his shoulder anyway. His smile is a bit softer when Akechi groans. When Akechi throws a hand on his face, digging his palm into his eye.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

Akechi’s uncovered eye opens to glare at him.

“That’s not what I mean. Have you really been avoiding looking at your calendar again?”

He’s long torn the thing down. Neutrally, he shakes his head.

“I’ll make you coffee. Come on.”

Akechi groans again, louder and with more purpose.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Yeah,” was his easy response. “I know. Three cubes of sugar as always?”

“You should stop wasting that on me.”

“Three cubes it is.”

It’s easy to glide into the kitchen as he always does. To pluck out some coffee beans to grind.

“Just instant is fine,” Akechi says from behind. “You shouldn’t go through too much effort. It’s not like my standards are that high, considering I’m with you.”

Akira gives him a grin. “All the more reason to spoil you, detective. The most expensive brand of beans we have it is.”

“It’s all just going to waste,” Akechi replied, straight-faced and unimpressed. “Seriously, Kurusu, what are you doing?”

He was grinding coffee beans and making coffee, obviously. There was no need to answer when it was obvious. Hell, it was routine. A nice, hot, high-quality cup of coffee was placed on the table for Akechi, with three sugar cubes added. Just as the detective liked it.

Akechi settles into the chair that Akira pulls out for him. Akechi sighs, looking quite tired, but not protesting as Akira squeezes his shoulders. Rather than protesting, Akechi sips at his coffee. There’s the slightest hint of a sparkle in his gaze at the taste, just as Akira remembers.

It’s nice to imagine you like this, he thinks. Domestic and content. Comfortable and mine.

In moments like these, his desire to embrace Akechi and squeeze was almost overbearing. At the very least, he wants so dearly to hold the other’s hand and entwine their fingers together. Because Akechi won’t let him, he settles for just placing his hand atop the other’s. He feels Akechi squeeze it into a fist, tense and not lightening up even when Akira strokes his knuckles.

“Stop,” he orders, almost weakly.

Akira grips the other’s hand. Akechi scowls at him but makes no move to physically pry him off. It’s cowardice that Akira holds no love for and absolutely doesn’t want to concede to.

“Kurusu,” Akechi hisses, but any move he makes is a barebones shift towards him. It’s infuriating, and that must show on Akechi’s face which darkens like the sky before a storm. “Kurusu...”

“Goro,” Akira returns cheekily, nuzzling into Akechi’s nape. He presses a kiss to the cervical spine, another to the base of the skull, and finally one atop the crown. Akechi’s honey-brown hair is as soft as it’s ever been against his lips.

“Stop this nonsense,” Akechi snaps at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Do you want a bullet point list?”

“Your jokes are horrible, Kurusu.”

“That’s Joker to you.” Akira finally felt his smile twitch. “Or leader, if you’re so inclined. I don’t think calling me by my surname like we’re just acquaintances is appropriate anymore. We’re much closer than that, don’t you think?”

Akechi turns away to scowl at his coffee. Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Akira leans in to kiss his jaw.

“Sakamoto is on his way,” Akechi reminds him stiffly and irritably.

“I’ll make the most of our time together before then.”

“Our time.” Akechi lets out a laugh, low and ugly and so very lovely for it. It’s nothing like the saccharine giggle of the second detective prince, but it’s so wonderfully Akechi Goro, even if it’s more muted than before.

“Your time,” Akechi then corrected him with a snarl, fitting an impressive amount of disdain into just that word.

“My time,” Akira agreed if only to show his fondness. “I’d give you all of it, you know. If only you’d ask.”

“Because I ran out of it?” Akechi looked so terribly unamused. “I don’t need your fucking charity. Nor your pity.”

Akira simply smiles at him.

“I don’t need your pity,” Akechi reiterates. “So, stop with this, Kurusu. Let me go. Let me leave.”

Let you leave me?

“You don’t have anywhere else to go,” Akira reminded him simply. With how understanding he was, he felt no annoyance. He did, however, feel a little sad when Akechi’s beautiful face crumbled like wet tissue.

“Please let me leave.”

You said not to pity you when you make a face like this...

“What value is there in keeping me around?” Akechi asked him next, still so outwardly broken with glittering pieces that Akira took in avidly. “Isn’t this hurting you?”

You really are...stronger than you think.

In lieu of a verbal answer, Akira takes the other’s hands and presses into them so very greedily.

When Ryuji finally arrived, Akira only had one last thing to say to Akechi Goro.

“Stay.”

Alongside the now cold cup of coffee, the once detective had no other choice to remain where he was. Still, Akira felt a little anxious as he stepped outside. And Ryuji, still, seemed a bit awkward. He still offered a wide grin, but the strain at the edges was undeniable.

“Hey, man, I know it, uh...” Ryuji pauses for a moment to shuffle uncomfortably. “With what time of the year it is, I figured... It wouldn’t be cool to let you stay in an empty house all day.”

Akira nods. “Mm.”

Nothing else would come, but Ryuji’s gaze was still warm with sympathy. Pity.

Akira’s gaze falls, but for Ryuji’s sake, he doesn’t look back even though he wants to.

It was just going to be another one of those days.

#shuake #akeshu #Persona 5 #Magi fics #bad things bingo

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sapphirestarxx · 4 years ago

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Customer Service

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SUMMARY: Customer service is a thankless job, a fact Kagome knows well. Customers can be downright nasty; that’s just to be expected. What she isn’t expecting is for one of those customers to get physical or for a handsome and gruff stranger to swoop in and save her. How can she thank him? ONESHOT.

NSFW. SMUT. Lots of smut at the end.

This is a birthday fic for @lavendertwilight89!! Her birthday isn’t for another couple days but I thought I would post this early after the terrible day she had yesterday. I hope you love it dear!~

Also, thanks go out to @neutronstarchild for helping me brainstorm some ideas out and to @fawn-eyed-girl and @hnn-wnchstr for being kind enough to beta it.

Tag Wall: @lavendertwilight89 @hnn-wnchstr @cstormsinukagblog @fawn-eyed-girl @ruddcatha @liz8080 @itzatakahashi @kagometaishostory @neutronstarchild @bluejay785 @ravisk @dangerouspompadour @omgitscharlie @arcprz

***********

Kagome was not having a good day. It had gotten off to a terrible start and showed no signs of improving with the day’s passing.

Her alarm hadn’t gone off, and when her eyes finally opened, she’d only had five minutes to throw on her things before racing out the door, skipping breakfast. She hadn’t gotten very far because her car hadn’t wanted to start and she had fought with it before finally resorting to shocking the engine with her reiki in a last ditch effort. It had appeared to work (much to her surprise) but she had no idea when the effects would wear off or if it would even work again. Not that she had had time to worry about that, because the whole ordeal had made her roughly forty minutes late to work, where she proceeded to receive a lecture on punctuality from her boss, even though she had never been late before. And then, to make matters worse, she had used her entire break trying to call auto places to get her car in. Turns out every nearby place was booked out for the next two weeks because of course they were. So not only had she been unable to schedule an appointment for her car, she hadn’t eaten all day either.

Her car was a mess, her mood was a mess, and her life was a mess. And her store was also a mess.

Stifling a sigh of frustration, Kagome tucked the wayward strand of black hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear and straightened the apron she was wearing. Just another year… she just had to deal with this job for another year until she finished her Masters in Reiki Manipulation. In the meantime this job was vital for her income. Customer service had never been her first choice but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

She had been working at Shikon Styles for roughly four years, give or take a few months. After the first couple years as an associate, she’d been able to work her way up to manager. With that title came the guaranteed hours, benefits, and most importantly-- better pay. Still not even remotely close to what she felt like she deserved considering everything she had to put up with, but wasn’t that always the case?

She finished cleaning up the mess someone had left behind (because no one seemed to know how to pick up after themselves ), and scanned the store to see if any shoppers appeared to need help. Turning her head towards the entrance of the store she saw another customer enter and her heart stuttered in her chest for a few beats. The person who had just walked in was quite possibly the most attractive man that she, Kagome Higurashi, had ever seen in the entire twenty-five years of her life.

He was tall with a lean but muscular build, the features of his tanned face chiseled and sharp. The effect was softened slightly by a mane of gleaming silver hair that hung all the way to his no doubt perfect ass, but more intriguing to her were the dog ears atop his head; white and fluffy, and her fingers twitched with the need to touch them. And his eyes . Even all the way across the store, the piercing gold of them was unmistakable. When those gold eyes turned her way, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks in equal parts awareness and embarrassment. She couldn’t have been more obvious about checking him out. She also couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his, completely caught in his spell.

His face had been set in a scowl, but at the sight of her blatant staring, the edge of his mouth kicked up, hinting at a smirk. She felt lightheaded for a second, her heart beating faster while butterflies stirred in her stomach. She flushed further, but this time for... other reasons. It was like everything around her had just fallen away and there was only her and him. She wanted to get closer, feeling an almost magnetic pull towards him. It was ridiculous and crazy but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

Her feet started moving his way as she licked her suddenly dry lips in preparation to give some semblance of a greeting, but the sound of one of her employees asking for help over the headset quickly curtailed that plan.

“Can I have a manager up front please?”

Kagome frowned at the distress in the girl’s voice. Her momentary annoyance was replaced with concern. Normally a bright and cheerful girl, Rin sounded close to tears. The radio picked up the slight sounds of someone raising their voice and once it clicked off, Kagome could actually hear the irate customer from where she stood near the back of the store. Several of the nearby customers were turning their attention towards the source as well. This did not bode well.

“I’ll be right there,” she responded.

With quick steps Kagome made her way to the registers, mentally preparing herself. With that much yelling, she wasn’t expecting a smooth resolution. As she drew near, she saw that the customer in question had his hands on the counter and was leaning close in a move meant to be intimidating. It was a boar youkai, and she held back a wince; they were not known for their sweet temperament. Rin’s eyes were wide and she had her hands raised in a placating gesture. When she caught sight of Kagome the relief on her face was palpable. Kagome pasted on her customer service smile and came to stand beside the young girl.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem is this bitch won’t give me what I’m asking for! I’m a paying customer, dammit!”

The use of the word bitch had Kagome’s mind screeching to a halt as she stared at him in stunned silence. She'd had lots of customers get nasty before, but few had resorted to actual profanity. Finding her composure again, she attempted a polite expression, even though inside she was seething. How dare this youkai use obscenities, especially at such a sweet girl like Rin! She was one of her best employees and Kagome didn’t care for the way he was trying to bully her.

“There’s no need for such language, sir. I’m the manager here and would like to assist you if possible. What exactly is the issue?”

He scoffed at her rebuke, rolling his eyes, and her blood boiled. Asshole.

“You said you’re the manager?”

“That’s right.”

“Good. Maybe I can actually get some real help from someone competent, who knows how to take care of the customer.”

It was a struggle to keep her fake smile from slipping but she somehow managed. Ugh, she hated this man already. Rin was doing nothing to hide her own expression of displeasure and Kagome couldn’t blame the girl.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“I’m spending 31,000 yen today but this dumb girl can’t give me any discount. I even have a coupon!! And she tells me you don’t have your gift-with-purchase available anymore and she can’t give me anything in place of it, either! My girlfriend was looking forward to it. You guys never have any left when I come in! This is BULLSHIT!!! I demand SOMETHING!!!”

Ah, profanity again. With more yelling.

“As far as the GWP goes, unfortunately they are only available while supplies last, and if you look closely on the back of the GWP coupon, it says it was only good until the 10th of last month. They tend to only be valid for a week before they end,” Kagome explained with a patience she did not feel.

A month. The man came in a month after it started and expected them to still have any left? She wanted to tell him maybe waiting too long was the reason he was always unable to receive one, but she held her tongue. Instead she reached her hand out for the other coupon he held, already sure of what it was going to say.

“May I see the other coupon, sir?”

He practically threw it at her and she blinked. Okaaaay…this man was seriously getting on her nerves. Feeling like her face was about to crack from the force of faking a pleasant expression, she picked it up and looked at it. Just like that, her customer service persona shattered. Her face went slack in disbelief. She looked up at him and met his angry red eyes.

“Sir...this coupon expired four years ago. On May 2016.”

“So? I’m here now!” He insisted belligerently, his lip curling as a nasty look overtook his face. The tusks on either side of his mouth stood out in sharp relief at his anger.

One thing working in customer service had taught Kagome was the sheer entitlement of some people. It truly baffled her, the things people thought she should do for them. They all thought that an exception should be made for them for whatever reason. You’re not special and the rules do apply to you, she wanted to say to them all.

And honestly, there was a similar public offer currently available on the website, and if he had been nicer maybe she would have mentioned it and taken care of him. But no. He was being a complete asshole so she wasn’t inclined in the slightest to help him in any way. She just wanted him out of her damn store.

“Yes, but the coupon you have is very expired. I’m very sorry but there is nothing I can do for you.”

“That shouldn’t fucking matter! You’re just as useless as that bitch, you damn cunt!!”

Alright, that was it. She was pissed.

“Sir, you need to leave.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I said you need to leave this store now. We do not tolerate abusive language towards anyone.” There was an edge to her voice now, but she didn’t care anymore. Let him know she was angry.

“Fine but I’m takin’ all this shit!!” The youkai snatched his haul off the counter after slamming down a few bills and started to stalk towards the doors. A quick glance revealed it wasn’t nearly enough to pay for the items he had grabbed and she rushed after him, cutting him off at the end of the registers. And then her bad day became worse.

“Sir, you still nee--”

That was as far as she got before he pushed her roughly. She hadn’t been expecting to be physically assaulted and the move caught her off guard. Stumbling backwards, she fell hard on her side. There were gasps from her employees and the other onlookers. What the hell?!

“Out of my way! You want me to pay for them then give me my discount, bitch!!” He spat over her form.

Kagome was so angry she was literally shaking. Her breath was coming in pants and her reiki was beginning to swirl around her in a cloud in response to her strong emotions. If she thought she’d been pissed before, it was nothing compared to the rage that now coursed through her veins.

“How dare you!!!” Rin was yelling at him while rushing over to her side.

Don’t zap him, don’t zap him, don’t zap him. Kagome chanted it like a mantra in her head, trying to tamp down the urge to fry the asshole with her power. You need the money, so far the only one here at fault is him. Don’t touch him

“You just gonna lay there like the pathetic bitch you are?”

Fuck it.

Pushing herself to her feet, Kagome was prepared to rain down fury on this customer, consequences be damned. Rin helped her up, then gasped, tightening her grip on Kagome’s arm. Kagome looked up to see what had elicited the sound of surprise from her employee. If this asshole had done anything else… Her eyes grew wide, the death glare slipping from her face as shock replaced it.

The hot guy from earlier was there and holding the nasty customer by the throat. It was a testament to his strength how he was able to lift the youkai off the floor with his grip alone.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” The boar youkai wheezed around the man’s grip on his neck. The merchandise he had been about to make off with lay at his feet in a pile.

"You need to leave. Now. She's been nothin’ but nice while you've been a total dick. Get the fuck out," he replied in a dangerously low voice.

“I barely touched her.”

“You shouldn’t have touched her at all. Period.”

“Let go of me!”

“Are ya gonna leave?”

“Yes!”

The sound was pitiful but Kagome couldn’t find it in her to feel sorry for him. She was still shaking slightly from the sheer force of the anger that had gripped her moments earlier. Her temper was now fading, the sight of this man serving justice in her stead somehow calming her down. Perhaps it was petty, but she took great satisfaction at his discomfort. It was what he deserved, in her opinion. Judging by how no one was protesting his treatment, everyone else in the store seemed to feel the same.

She took a closer look at her savior while his attention was fixed upon the boar youkai. His dog ears twitched in irritation, the scowl back on his handsome face. He was even more attractive up close, the muscles of his biceps and triceps standing out in the red t-shirt he wore as he flexed his grip once more before releasing the customer.

The boar youkai coughed a bit before glowering at her rescuer.

“You’re brave for a half-breed, putting your filthy hands on a full-blooded youkai.”

Half-breed? Kagome frowned at the slur, wondering if it was impossible for a kind word to pass the other man’s lips. That must mean this man was a hanyou, and probably an inu youkai if she had to guess, based on the fluffy ears that were still calling her name. She longed to touch them but that would be all kinds of inappropriate.

The inu youkai scoffed at his words, seemingly unbothered by them.

“Whatever. I could still kick your ass. Wanna find out?”

The boar youkai sputtered in indignation for a few moments before collecting himself, trying and failing to intimidate the hanyou as he puffed his chest out.

“That’s it! I’m going to leave a complaint!”

The hanyou rolled his eyes.

“I don’t give a shit. I don't work here so good fuckin’ luck with that. Now get the fuck outta here."

Walking back to the counter to grab the money he had left by the register, the man then beat a hasty retreat. He deliberately walked over the items he had left piled on the floor and Kagome rolled her eyes at the childish move, just grateful he was finally leaving. Never in all the days and years she worked there had she ever had someone lay hands on her. She would have to call her boss, who had already left for the day, and probably file an incident report about it later. What a pain in the ass.

“You okay?”

Kagome blinked, turning her eyes from the doors, where the man had just exited, back to the hanyou standing in front of her. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of molten amber and her heart rate kicked up again when she found herself swallowed up in his gaze. She cleared her throat in an attempt to find her voice.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good.”

He turned and began to walk away and for some inexplicable reason Kagome felt her stomach drop at his absence. It was strange. As if fate had presented her with an opportunity that she was letting go to waste. She had no idea why she felt this incredible pull towards him, but the feeling didn’t appear to be mutual. And why would it be? She had literally just met this man. She didn’t even know his name. Why would he stay and chat?? You’re being ridiculous. The thought did nothing to dispel the notion that she had let this chance slip through her fingers.

“Get his number!” Rin whispered in her ear before returning to the registers to ring out the next customer. The show was over and people were ready to resume making their purchases. Rin was happy to gossip about it with all of them and Kagome didn’t have it in her to reprimand her about it. Instead, she chased the unknown man down.

“Wait!”

He stopped, turning to look at her. A dark brow was raised in curiosity. She faltered a bit, her sudden confidence from Rin’s encouragement fading a little. It was hard to read the look that passed over his face but what appeared to be his trademark scowl was taking hold again.

“What?”

His tone was laced with annoyance. Not exactly a promising response. Kagome tried to stay positive by reminding herself that the actual target of his ire had already left the store, so she didn't hold it against him. Much. He was just another customer, one who had stepped in to help her when he'd had no reason to. There had been nothing in it for him. She wasn’t sure why he had, but it didn’t really matter.

“Um, I wanted to thank you. You didn’t have to step in but you did.”

“Keh. It was nothin’.”

“It wasn’t nothing. You probably saved me in more ways than one.”

“Listen, a thank you is fine. Don’t get all mushy on me. It was no big deal.”

“I would have probably lost my job if you hadn’t intervened. I was about to fry him with my reiki, I was so angry. So thank you. Really,” Kagome insisted.

She wasn't sure why he seemed so determined to brush aside her thanks, but her confession of potential violence seemed to catch his attention. He looked at her with new interest, giving a short laugh and exposing the tip of a fang. Amusement sparked in his eyes.

“Now I’m sorry I did.”

“I’m not because I would have probably been fired.”

"Eh, don’t mention it.”

He looked a little embarrassed now. It was faint but there was definitely a light flush across his cheekbones. Kagome had to bite back a grin at the sight. Maybe he just wasn’t used to kind words from a stranger? She didn’t have a chance to ponder that too much, though. She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she found herself speaking before her mind caught up with her mouth. It had to be Rin’s influence.

“I want to repay you somehow! Like...with more than words. What can I do?”

The scowl disappeared and in its place was that hint of a smirk she had glimpsed earlier at his entrance into the store. Her knees went a little weak while her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t fair for someone to be so incredibly attractive.

“Do ya always ask out your customers?”

“I-I’m not asking you out! I’m just trying to thank you…” Kagome stammered, her cheeks flushing pink. Ugh, she was failing miserably at this. “Like maybe a drink?”

Something shifted in his eyes that she couldn’t quite put her finger on while she waited for his answer. This wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t chase after guys. But she really did want to thank him and if that meant she got to spend more time with him in the process and learn his name then so much the better. It wasn’t like this was going to be a date; it was just a show of appreciation for him saving her ass.

“Your boyfriend won’t mind?” he asked, his scowl deepening.

“I-I don’t have a boyfriend,” Kagome answered, blushing harder.

He considered her words, his expression lightening at that.

“Fine. You can buy me a drink if that means you’ll shut up about thanking me.”

Okay, not the most encouraging response but she would take it. At least he wasn’t scowling at her anymore.

“What’s your name? And your phone number?”

“Inuyasha Taisho. Gimme some paper…” He peered at her name tag and grinned. “Ka-go-me.”

She had no idea why he had said her name in such a drawn out way but she decided right then that she loved it, and she wanted to hear him say it again. And again. God, what was wrong with her? She had met plenty of attractive men before, and her exes had all been pretty good-looking. But none had ever affected her so strongly before.

Retrieving a sticky note from her apron along with a pen, she scrawled her name and number onto it, then held it out to him.

“Here.”

He took it from her, his fingers brushing over hers. A tingle of electricity ran through her at the contact and sent her heart racing. His golden eyes sharpened and it occurred to her then that with his inu youkai senses he could probably pick up on little things like that. She was so obvious.

“Um...I should probably get back to work. Unless you need help with something?”

“Nah, I’m good. I have everything I need.”

He held up the piece of paper with her name and number, the tilt of his lips turning into a devastating smirk, then walked away to continue shopping. She wondered for a minute if there was a double meaning behind his words or if she was reading too much into it. Shrugging it off, she resumed her managerial duties, continuing to make sure everyone on the sales floor was taken care of. After several minutes she realized she had forgotten to get his number, too, and glanced around. She caught sight of him just as he was leaving and sighed. Chasing him down once was enough; she wasn’t about to do it twice. Oh well. If she didn’t hear back from him then that was that.

A few minutes later as she was finishing up with another customer she heard her phone chime and glanced at it. It was a text from an unknown number.

[Hey it’s Inuyasha. Text me the days you’re free.]

He had texted her! A flood of giddy excitement rushed through her.

“So did you get his number?”

That was Rin’s coy voice over the headset. Kagome couldn't contain her smile, feeling a sense of triumph. At least something had gone right today.

“I did.”

She could hear Rin cheering loudly all the way from the front of the store.

*****

“It’s not a date.” Kagome told her roommate and best friend for the fifth time.

“It sounds like a date,” Sango insisted, sitting on the foot of her bed as Kagome finished up her makeup, sipping her soda. “Look at you. Putting on makeup, dressing up. Going for a drink. With a man you find attractive. We call that a date, Kagome.”

Finishing the swipe of cherry-red across her lips, Kagome capped the tube of lipstick and turned to face her friend. Ok, so maybe Sango had a point. She had definitely dressed a bit more flirty than casual attire called for, wearing a pleated knee-length skirt in green that flared at the hem and a white off-the-shoulder blouse to go with it. Her long hair was hanging free in natural waves, the silky black a stark contrast to her porcelain skin.

“It’s just a thank you. He basically saved my job,” Kagome mumbled, but even she wasn’t convinced anymore.

Sango rolled her eyes.

“Well have fun at your not-date. Maybe it will lead to an actual date.”

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, out of my room. I'm leaving."

Sango laughed and threw her a wink before rising to her feet.

“I want to hear all about it when you get back home.”

“Sure, sure.”

Kagome grabbed her purse and car keys, slipping out of their apartment. Sango managed to get in one last remark just before the door shut.

“Let me know if he has any cute friends!”

“Good bye! ”

It had been three days since her encounter with the hanyou at her store, and aside from the rather short texts asking about her availability and figuring out the where and when to meet, there had been no real conversation between them. She had been hesitant to come across as too eager and he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming either. It’s not like it’s an actual date, so it doesn’t matter.

Maybe if she told herself that enough times she would start to believe it.

She hoped that maybe texting just wasn’t his thing. A lot of guys were like that, after all. Also, he hadn’t exactly struck her as the talkative type, but more so a man of action and gruff words. It was also entirely possible he had just been busy. She had no idea what he did for a living, or anything else about his life, for that matter.

Whispering a quick prayer, Kagome turned the key in the ignition. When her car started, she released a relieved breath, beginning to drive to the bar they had agreed upon. Her car hadn’t given her any problems since that day, but Kagome knew it was only a matter of time. Most of the drive it behaved...until it didn’t. And then, as if her thoughts had summoned everything terrible in the universe, her car shuddered and started making a sound she was pretty sure cars weren’t supposed to make.

It sounded like a cat was dying beneath the hood.

“No, no, nooo! Come onnnnn.”

The car remained unmoved by her desperate pleading. A glance at the dash revealed every warning light lit up like a Christmas tree and flashing at her. The engine stalled and her car began to slow, despite her frantic pressing of the gas pedal. Admitting defeat, she turned on her blinker and managed to pull over onto the side of the street right before it idled then completely died.

She turned the key again and nothing happened.

Giving the steering wheel a smack of anger, Kagome then lowered her head to rest upon it for a moment, releasing a scream of all her pent up frustration. She banged on the dashboard some more. Her eyes grew wet with the promise of tears and her throat hurt from the effort of holding them back. Why did everything always seem to go wrong for her? This sucked. She had almost made it there. Well, halfway. Digging her phone out of her purse she typed out a text to Inuyasha.

[I’m so sorry but my car broke down. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it.]

Wrapping her arms around the steering wheel, she lowered her head back down and just sat like that for a bit, sniffling. She was allowed to wallow in self pity for a few minutes. Surely she deserved that much. Her phone chimed in her lap and she groaned, unlocking it and looking down at the new message.

[Yeah I can see that. Look up.]

What?

Kagome raised her head and yelped in surprise. Standing in front of her car, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, was Inuyasha. His hands were in his pockets and he looked like he was fighting to keep his expression neutral. With a growing sense of horror she wondered if he had witnessed her mental breakdown. The answer was most likely yes. She groaned again. Way to make a favorable impression, Kagome. Meanwhile he was just as hot as she remembered. As she stared at him confusion mingled with surprise. How…?

He walked around to the driver’s side and rapped on her window with a knuckle. Sighing, Kagome undid her seatbelt and opened the car door. He moved back as she stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut harder than perhaps necessary. He raised an eyebrow at the excessive force and her bleak expression.

“Having another bad day?”

“It was going fine until my stupid car decided to break down!” Kagome answered darkly, giving one of the wheels a solid kick.

“Kickin’ it ain’t gonna help.”

“Well it’s helping me because it makes me feel better!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Inuyasha asked, grinning at her antics.

“I don’t know! Everything!” She wailed.

“I can take a look at it, if ya want.”

Kagome threw him a sidelong glance.

“How did you find me out here, anyways? Are you some kind of stalker?”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, to be honest. Inuyasha scoffed, looking offended at the idea.

“Please. I got better things to do than follow ya around.”

“So you’re telling me you just happened to be here?”

“Listen, I live nearby. I was walkin’ to the bar when I heard that god awful screechin’ your car was makin’. Looked over and saw it was you.”

Yeah, he had definitely seen her mental breakdown. Perfect.

“You want me to take a look at it? I’m a mechanic,” he offered.

“What?”

“I can probably fix it for ya.”

“No! Absolutely not. Then I’ll owe you even more.”

He paused a moment, seeming to hesitate before speaking again.

“Just call this a date and we’ll call it even, then.”

A date? All the blood rushed to Kagome’s face as her cheeks reddened. He had managed to make it sound so casual, despite his slight hesitation. Had he thought she would say no? The thought was oddly endearing but did nothing to dispel her nerves. She stammered a little bit before finally managing a response.

“O-okay,” she squeaked.

He graced her with one of his fanged smirks and her heart pounded wildly, trying to escape her ribcage. A thrill of excitement zipped through her and she silently conceded that Sango had been right. He’s actually interested in me, too!

Although she had hoped for it, she hadn’t really been expecting it. His demeanor around her had been less than enthused, after all. But then again, he had come to her rather valiant rescue days earlier. And he had seemed pleased when she had given him her phone number. Maybe the trick was learning to read between the lines with him.

Inuyasha pulled his phone out and made a quick call. Kagome tried not to be too obvious but it was impossible not to listen in.

“Hey. I need ya to come out here. Her car broke down.”

Inuyasha’s expression darkened before he rolled his eyes in response to whatever the person on the other end of the line said.

“Look, just get the fuck over here with the tow truck, would ya?...I don’t fuckin’ know, Miroku. Ask her yourself.” He made a disgusted sound. “Damn straight, you better.”

He rattled off the street they were at and then hung up the phone.

"It's a shame we won't actually make it to the bar because I could really use a drink right now," Kagome said morosely as they stood there.

Inuyasha barked out a laugh and Kagome found herself taken in at the sound.

"Yeah, it's too bad. Maybe another time."

"Mmm. So who was that on the phone? You sounded close."

"My friend. We work together," he said by way of explanation.

"Surprised you have friends with that surly expression you always wear," she teased.

"You tryin' to pick a fight?"

"No, just stating a fact. Your glare could make small children cry."

"Oh yeah? Well at least I didn’t stare at a mirror so hard that it broke, Miss Misfortune."

“Are you calling me UGLY?”

His ears twitched as he realized how it sounded and she did her best to keep a straight face.

“No, not at all. Just tryin’ to figure out how many black cats you pissed off.”

Kagome gave a mock gasp, feigning offense, and Inuyasha grinned.

“I hope you step on a Lego,” she said, unable to contain her own grin.

“Really? That’s all you got?” He chuckled. “I think your luck has been cursed enough for us both, girlie. Don’t tempt the Lego Gods.”

“Rude!”

They were still trading barbs when a tow truck pulled up to their side of the street in front of where they were standing. They were so engrossed in each other that it wasn't until the man in the truck rolled the window down and spoke that they realized he was there

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said cheerfully.

Kagome turned her gaze to the newcomer and took in his appearance. He was handsome, with dark brows, high cheekbones, and full lips. His most striking feature, however, were his indigo eyes, brimming with amusement at the display before him. A light breeze floated through his open window and teased the strands of his black hair, currently pulled into a short ponytail. His arm came up to rest on the window sill almost lazily.

"About fuckin' time," Inuyasha greeted him rudely. The other man, presumably the Miroku from his phone call, just shrugged.

"I got here as soon as I could," Miroku replied, unperturbed by Inuyasha’s attitude.

"Um, hi. Thank you for coming out here on such short notice," Kagome said politely.

At her words his attention turned to her. He blatantly looked her up and down before settling his indigo gaze back upon her face, smiling pleasantly.

“My pleasure; I’m Miroku. You’re the girl?”

“Um...yes...?” The girl? Had Inuyasha been talking about her?

“I can’t believe you agreed to go on a date with this brute here.”

“Hey!” Inuyasha protested. “I don’t want to hear that from a pervert like you.”

"He seems feral but I promise he's house-trained," Miroku went on.

"He doesn’t seem too bad to me, aside from his permanent scowl." Kagome felt compelled to defend him but she couldn't keep the smile off her face at their banter.

“You’re far too lovely for my friend. Are you sure you have the right guy?”

“At least I don’t flirt with anything female,” Inuyasha shot back.

“Please, I only do that to see their faces light up. Meanwhile, you make every woman run away crying. Except for this one, apparently.”

“At least I have standards.”

“Hey! I have standards, too,” Miroku insisted.

“Then you need to raise them.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Miroku agreed amiably. “I’m turning over a new leaf tonight.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Inuyasha scoffed.

“So you're clearly off-limits, but do you have any pretty friends?” Miroku pushed on unabashedly, turning his attention back to Kagome.

She giggled and Inuyasha glared.

“It’s funny because my roommate said the same thing."

"Same thing?"

"To let her know if Inuyasha had any cute friends,” she explained.

Miroku looked delighted.

“What is this roommate’s number?”

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Inuyasha cut in, rolling his eyes.

“Of course. Can’t keep a lady waiting.” He winked at Kagome and it was her turn to roll her eyes.

Together, Inuyasha and Miroku got her car loaded up. And by ‘together’ it was mostly Miroku doing the work while Inuyasha stood on the sidewalk making disparaging comments about Miroku’s skills. He took it in stride and made some cleverly sharp comments of his own right back.

“Sorry about the tight squeeze,” Miroku apologized as they all piled into the truck. “This isn’t exactly made for three people.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I appreciate this. Both of you,” Kagome replied.

She was squished against the door with Inuyasha sitting to her right. He had refused to let her sit in the middle lest she be pressed up against ‘that damn flirt.’ She didn’t particularly care, to be honest, but his slight possessiveness warmed her. Or maybe that just was his body heat seeping into her, making her skin tingle in awareness.

The drive passed surprisingly quickly and they arrived at the garage as the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. The place was quiet and Kagome realized it must be after hours for them now, which made sense. She suddenly felt kind of bad about Miroku coming out after what had likely been the end of his shift.

“Sorry, you were probably about to head home when you came to help me out,” she said, her voice contrite.

He waved her apology off. “It was no big deal.”

“Is that why you bitched to me about it over the phone?” Inuyasha snarked.

“Now now, let’s not split hairs. Dealing with you is different than dealing with a pretty lady.”

Inuyasha snorted.

The two of them got her car set up and then Miroku turned to Inuyasha. “You want me to stay and help?”

“Nah, I can handle it,” Inuyasha replied. “Get out of here.”

“Then on that note, I’ll take my leave. It was nice to meet you, Kagome.” Miroku said, giving her a nod.

“It was nice to meet you, too.”

“So about your roommate’s number...” He let the sentence trail off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“I’ll ask her about it. Goodbye!” Kagome said emphatically, but she was giggling.

After Miroku had taken off, her attention returned to the hanyou examining her dumpster fire of a car. He had removed his t-shirt, leaving him in a white wife-beater and a pair of jeans. His back was to her and he was putting his hair up in a bun to keep it out of the way. She watched his motions, observing the way the muscles of his back moved beneath the fabric, the corded strength in his arms as they bunched and flexed. A rush of warmth pulsed through her as he popped the hood of her car.

“Fuck, woman. When’s the last time you got an oil change?”

“Huh?” She looked up, snapped out of her reverie; she must have zoned out for a minute. “Um...I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe a year or so ago?”

“You fuckin’ serious?”

“What?” She said defensively.

“You need to be gettin’ it changed every 5k miles. Everybody fuckin’ knows that. And that sticker on your windshield? It tells me ya should’ve gotten it done 3k miles ago.”

“I’ve been a little busy to think about things like that!”

He scoffed harshly but said nothing else as he...well she wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, to be completely honest. She knew next to nothing about cars. The same was obviously not true for him, which was fortunate for her. He leaned over, getting a good look at her car’s inner workings and giving her a good look at his ass. It was perfect, just as she had suspected.

“You seem more relaxed around me than you were before. I thought you didn’t like me,” he commented as he continued his work.

Kagome’s eyes snapped from his ass to the back of his head, feeling almost guilty about the way she had been checking him out.

“I thought you didn’t like me ,” she admitted.

He turned around and gave her an incredulous expression.

“Why the fuck would you think that?”

She just looked at him and he sighed.

“Right. I s’pose that’s fair.”

“You seemed so...annoyed when we first met, and I didn’t know if that was because of the customer or me,” she explained.

“Definitely wasn’t ya. Sorry you got that impression.”

“It’s okay.”

“When you insisted you weren’t askin’ me out, I thought...well...”

“What??”

“Because I’m a hanyou.”

“But that doesn’t matter to me. It was because I just didn’t want to seem...forward, I guess. I don’t know, this kind of stuff doesn’t really come easily to me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Kagome blushed furiously and he looked a little embarrassed at his honesty.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, caught in the spell of his amber eyes. She resisted the urge to bite her lip out of nervousness. “I guess I just don’t tend to think of myself that way.” She gave a slight shrug.

“Well, ya should.”

With that pronouncement he turned back around and resumed his work on her car. His words had warmed her more than sunshine on a cold day. As she watched him work, something else began to warm her. She walked closer to get a better look at what he was doing and to keep her eyes from wandering to places they shouldn’t be.

“Why the fuck didn’t ya get this fixed sooner?” Inuyasha demanded suddenly, raising his eyes to meet hers. “This is a mess.”

She blinked.

“Well...I mean, it’s been giving me problems for a while, but every place is booked out for weeks now. I don’t have the time between work and school to drive far away to an auto place in a car on the verge of breaking down. With my luck it would die in the middle of the highway.”

“You have a point.” He laughed, and she suppressed a shiver at the sound. It washed over her in a wave, husky and rich.

"You know, your customer service is lacking," she teased. "Do you talk to all your customers like this?"

"Sometimes. Miroku usually has to smooth things over," he admitted.

"You could learn a few things from me."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Not cursing at your customer, for starters."

"But you're not really a customer, are ya?"

"I guess that's true." She smiled.

She didn’t know how much time passed as he worked. The conversation between them was light and fun and didn’t touch on anything too serious. He took parts out of her car, put parts in, occasionally asking her to hand him a specific tool then making fun of her when she didn’t know which one it was. At those moments she would jokingly threaten to zap him with her reiki if he wasn’t careful and he would just chuckle at her empty threats.

The longer he worked on her car the harder it was to keep her mind from straying to less-than-innocent places. There was a fine sheen of sweat coating his arms, making his muscles glisten faintly. Her eyes took in every dip, curve, and swell, her mouth going dry at the sight. The way he was handling himself with confidence and ease spoke of his skill and it was...attractive, to say the least.

“So. A miko?”

Kagome mentally shook herself, trying to fight her growing arousal.

“It seemed like the natural choice; it’s always come so easily to me. It’s like flexing a muscle, an extension of myself. It’s part of who I am. While I could have chosen something else...why would I?”

“Makes sense,” he grunted.

“Did you always want to be a mechanic?”

“Well, I’ve always been good with my hands,” he shrugged.

I’m sure you are, she thought, biting her lip, her eyes inevitably drawn to those hands now. They were large and covered in black grease, tipped in claws. She wondered idly what those claws would feel like tracing the lines of her body and felt heat curl low in her belly.

Inuyasha inhaled, his nose twitching, and jerked upright, nearly hitting his head on the hood of her car. She frowned for a moment, wondering what had caused him to jump. Then realization dawned and she turned tomato red. Oh God. Embarrassment filled her.

Inuyasha was an inu youkai hanyou. He could smell her. His gold eyes practically burned as they turned her way.

She swallowed, fidgeting with her hands, and her cinnamon eyes skittered away from his form, hoping that would help to quell the rising desire in her. A desire for him and his touch. The force of it surprised her; she barely knew him! Despite that, everything with him just came so...naturally. She felt like she had known him forever, and feelings that normally took days and weeks to form had taken mere hours. It was insane, but she couldn't deny it.

She liked him so much it was crazy.

Silence stretched between them as her mind cast about desperately for something to talk about. Something to divert attention away from the change in her scent and what exactly that meant.

"So, have you taken many dates to your garage?"

"Nah. You're the first lucky lady who's had the honor," Inuyasha replied with a fanged smirk, giving her a long look before turning his focus back to her car.

Kagome breathed a soft sigh of relief and let out a small laugh at his answer.

"They really missed out. This is so romantic," she joked, gesturing about with a hand for good measure.

"Yeah, sorry." He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "This is probably a shitty date, but at least your car will work tomorrow."

"It's not, though," she told him sincerely. "I'm actually really enjoying myself. I have had way worse dates than this. This doesn't even rate on the scale."

And no date has ever had me so ready to be pressed up against the nearest surface with the need to have their hands all over me. Her mind was veering into dangerous territory again. She was completely ready to forget all propriety. Not good.

"You're kiddin'."

"Definitely not."

"Yeah? Then what's the worst date you ever been on?"

"Oh, let's see. There are a few contenders for that spot."

Kagome seized on the question. Talking made it easier to focus on something other than the way his lips would feel against hers. Or the way he might use his fangs to gently nip at the sensitive skin of her neck…

She needed to get a grip, and fast, or he was going to start smelling her again. She hastily tried to tamp down her libido with minimal success.

"There was the time I went on a date with a guy and he got so drunk he kept falling asleep at the bar,” she said, relieved when her voice came out steady and not breathless.

“Shitty, but not that bad.”

“Oh, it gets worse. So I paid for my tab while he was in the bathroom; I just wanted to get out of there. As I was getting in the cab, he came running out after me, trying to keep me from leaving.”

“Guy obviously couldn’t take a hint.”

Kagome gave a small laugh. “No. And well, just as I closed the door he projectile vomited all over the cab window.”

Inuyasha laughed so hard he had to stop what he was doing for a minute and Kagome grinned at his obvious amusement. It had been a gross and terrible experience at the time, but it definitely made for a hilarious story now.

“Ok, shit. That’s pretty fuckin’ bad.”

“It was horrifying. Then he texted me the next morning asking about a second date.”

Inuyasha laughed harder and Kagome began to laugh too.

“Needless to say, I said absolutely not.”

“Somethin’ tells me he didn’t take no for an answer,” Inuyasha grinned.

“I ended up blocking him,” Kagome confirmed. “So what about you? What’s your worst date story?”

Inuyasha straightened, surveying the innards of her car and seeming to come to some sort of conclusion. About what, she had no clue but he seemed satisfied, giving a short nod. Then he faced her, the corner of his mouth tilting up.

“I dunno about the worst, but probably the weirdest. I went out with this chick, and after we had dinner she said she just had to pick somethin’ up. We stopped at her twin brother’s place and there was the weirdest vibe goin’ on between them.”

“You don’t think…?” Kagome gasped.

“Fuck, I got no clue but they both basically ignored me and focused on each other ‘til I said I was leavin’.”

Kagome giggled. “Yeah, that’s pretty weird.”

Inuyasha lowered the hood of her car then grabbed a rag and wiped the grease off his hands before tossing it aside into a bin. When he looked her way again he stretched and his shirt rode up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of his taut stomach. It whet her appetite for more and with a jolt she realized she was staring. She was also more than a little turned on. Even if she hid it well, there was no hiding her scent; Inuyasha would know exactly what kind of shameless thoughts were circling in her head. There would be no shrugging it off a second time.

She wasn’t that type of girl! But something about Inuyasha made her want to be.

“All done a-already?” She stuttered out, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of her now. Her heart was beating faster, making it nearly impossible to keep her breathing even. She cleared her throat.

“Yup. All done. Was a fuckin’ mess but thankfully I know what I’m doin’,” Inuyasha answered.

His feet came into view as she continued to stare at the floor. They stopped right in front of her, but she didn’t need to see his feet to know that. Her awareness of his body so near to hers was a signal all on its own. His aura brushed up against hers and she swallowed nervously, her cheeks warming.

“Y-yeah, for once luck was on my side. Thank you so much,” she said, still looking at the floor.

“You thankin’ the floor?”

She hesitantly raised her eyes to his face and heat flooded through her at his expression. An answering heat burned in his golden orbs while a smirk teased at his lips. He knew. He knew and he was not going to let her off lightly. Not this time. That thought allowed some of her ardor to cool and she scowled. He was standing incredibly close so she pushed against him, her hands lingering on his stomach, noting the ridges of his abs beneath the thin fabric of the wife-beater he wore. He retreated a single step and no more.

“Thank you,” she said again, this time looking into his eyes as she spoke, and his smirk widened. She wanted to be annoyed but that look was giving her butterflies and making her knees weak. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes that made her feel almost hypnotized.

“You hungry?” he asked in a low voice.

“A little,” she replied, unable to look away. But I’m more hungry for you.

“There’s a takeout menu on the fridge in the living space through that door. Go ahead and order whatever ya want.”

Without breaking eye contact, he pulled his wallet out and removed a card, then reached down to grab one of her hands. Her breath caught as he placed it in her palm then curled her fingers over it, his claws lightly scraping over the skin of her wrist before pulling away. She couldn’t suppress the shiver it caused.

“O-order?”

“What? Ya need help orderin’ food?”

“No! Of course not.”

Kagome tried to muster up a glare but failed miserably. Inuyasha just looked terribly amused and smug. Ugh.

“While you order I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“You need help with that?”

Kagome tried to make it sound like a joke, to play off his previous words, but her voice came out breathless instead. The teasing smirk disappeared from his face and his eyes sharpened as he crowded her space, standing so close his body heat warmed her. Leaning down, he spoke, his breath brushing over her lips.

“If you’re offerin’.”

Kagome’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out. All the desire she had been trying to keep at bay rushed back, overwhelming her senses for a moment. Her brain short-circuited as lust flooded her, making it impossible to fight.

“I-I wasn’t being serious,” she finally managed. “Your customer service needs work.”

He leaned closer, and she became acutely aware of how little space there was between their lips.

“That’s not what your scent is tellin’ me.”

He definitely knows. Oh God. Mortification and arousal vied for dominance, arousal winning out. And Kagome suddenly found she didn’t care that he knew anymore. For once, she didn’t want to be a good girl; she just wanted to give in. But still, she couldn’t make the first move.

“What is it telling you?” she whispered, hoping he would.

And he did.

Instead of answering her, he closed the last bit of distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. It started out soft at first and she sighed in bliss, leaning into his kiss while her hands ran up his stomach to rest upon his broad shoulders. His credit card dropped between them onto the floor, forgotten as they kissed. The taste of his mouth sent her head spinning. His hands reached up to cradle her face as their lips moved against each other and she shivered at the delicious heat spreading through her body.

It quickly turned from sweet and hesitant to something more demanding and deliberate. Kagome offered no resistance, opening her lips to him almost reflexively. His tongue dipped into her mouth while she traced the length of his fangs with her own and he growled in approval. At the same time, her hands moved to his head, reaching back and undoing the bun holding his silver hair in place. The silky mass tumbled down his back and she ran her fingers through it as their kisses grew more insistent. Her blood was singing in her veins for his touch and, as if he could read her mind, his hands began to roam her body. They slid from her face to her shoulders, down her back, skimming her waist and coming to a stop on her ass.

His hands cupped her, pulling her flush against him and allowing her to feel the evidence of his own arousal. A soft whimper caught in her throat and she clung to him tighter. He dragged his mouth away from hers, his eyes almost wild, as if surprised at the force of the connection between them. They were both panting as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“It’s telling me you wanted that. And more. Fuck, I want more,” Inuyasha said, his voice husky.

“So do I,” Kagome told him hotly.

“If I kiss ya again, I dunno if I can stop.”

Kagome smiled at him shyly, her cheeks heated with a blush.

“What if I said I didn’t want you to stop?”

She wasn’t the type to have sex on the first date, but whatever was building between them was undeniable. For once, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and indulge herself, and if the bulge she felt in his pants was anything to go by, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. And this thing between them was more than physical; at least it was for her. She only hoped it was the same for him, too.

“Then I ain’t gonna stop.”

“I-I don’t ever do this, especially not on the first date, but I just feel something so-- so--...”

“I feel it, too.”

That was the only reassurance she needed. Her hands moved across the expanse of his muscled back while his lips captured hers again. She felt like she could get lost in the feel of his mouth over hers, the taste of his breath, the way his fangs nipped at her bottom lip. The need to touch him was strong and she tugged at the wife-beater he wore in silent demand. Breaking the kiss, he smirked at her and removed it in one fluid motion. She stared, transfixed, her eyes charting every ridge and dip of his abs and pecs.

He was beautiful .

Before she could lose her courage, she leaned forward and ran her mouth over his skin, pressing kisses over his bare torso while her hands mapped his body. His breathing quickened and he growled, the verberation from the sound tickling her lips as her tongue darted out to lick the sweat from his skin.

While she explored him, his hands went to work, running down her back in a caress before gripping her ass possessively. He squeezed, relishing the feel, then surprised her by using his grip to effortlessly pick her up. She squealed, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing her core right against the hardness of his cock. Gasping at the sensation, a rush of hot arousal raced through her system and left her lightheaded. She barely registered him carrying her until he set her down on the hood of her car as he kissed her. Then his lips trailed from her mouth to her ear, down to her neck, where his fangs played at the sensitive skin there.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he said, his breath hot. He inhaled deeply, breathing her in.

Moaning softly, she shifted her hips against him, hoping to ease the ache that was beginning to build at the apex of her thighs. Heat jolted through her core at the intimate contact as he groaned.

"Clothes...off…" Kagome managed, her mind in a haze.

Inuyasha complied, removing her shirt and tossing it aside. Without wasting any time, he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, his claws lightly brushing against her porcelain skin as he slid the straps from her shoulders. Nervousness gripped her again as her bra fell away and left her bare to his gaze, but excitement quickly replaced it at the hunger in his eyes.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

She held her breath in anticipation for his touch while he stared, drinking her in. The look in his eyes made her feel like a goddess. He didn’t keep her waiting long, his large hands reaching for her and lifting her breasts, savoring their weight as a calloused thumb brushed over each nipple. They pebbled beneath his touch and a soft sigh passed her lips as he repeated the motion before massaging the globes. Then his mouth took the place of his hands and Kagome cried out as he sucked at her nipples, his fangs gently scraping over the sensitive buds.

As he lavished his attentions on her breasts, her hands buried themselves in his hair, holding his head in place. Unable to help herself, one hand freed itself to stroke along his soft ears and his grip tightened on her in response. She grinned wickedly; they were clearly sensitive. Lightly running her tongue along the edge of one of his furred ears, she gave it a small nip. He growled, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasurable vibrations through her body, making her moan. Liquid heat pooled between her legs.

Slowly, he kissed his way from her breasts all the way down her belly until he reached the waistband of her skirt. He gave it a playful bite while the longing in her grew stronger.

"Inuyasha…" she breathed, his name a plea.

Sliding his hands beneath the green satiny fabric, he ran his palms up her smooth thighs and took hold of her panties. She lifted her hips in consent and he removed them, his claws trailing along her pelvis and the inside of her thighs. A small whimper lodged in Kagome’s throat as the tension inside her built.

Rather than toss them aside like he had her shirt, Inuyasha held them up to his face. The crotch was soaked with her arousal and she watched as he slowly and deliberately dragged his tongue across the wetness, closing his eyes as if savoring the taste. Then he gave her a wicked smirk, locking eyes with her.

It was the hottest and most erotic thing she had ever seen. Lust gripped her, hot and immediate. The pressure was almost unbearable now, she was so fucking turned on. She throbbed with the need to feel that tongue licking and teasing her dripping pussy.

"You taste amazing. But it'll taste even better right here," Inuyasha said, dropping her panties to the floor in favor of spreading her thighs.

"Do it. Taste me," she panted, her fingers curling into fists at her side to keep herself from grabbing his head and pressing him into her.

Then his mouth was on her and oh. Fuck. Her skirt bunched around her waist as his tongue lapped at the juices pouring from her opening, darting in and out and making her breath catch. After teasing her entrance, he gave her pussy a long, slow lick, flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit. Kagome gasped, her thighs tensing, as he spread her folds and licked at her faster, mercilessly tonguing her bundle of nerves. She cried out, her back arching.

“Ah! Ahh! Yes, oh fuck!”

Tracing fast and hard circles around her clit with his tongue, he positioned one of his hands at her opening and slid a finger inside her, being careful of his claws. Her response was instant, her hips bucking up against him to take his finger all the way inside her as she moaned loudly. Yes. God yes.

Inuyasha gave a growl of approval at her reaction and the vibrations went straight to her clit, enhancing the pleasure. It was pure bliss. His tongue worked her nub furiously as he fingered her, adding a second digit to the first and causing a cry to escape her again. His fingers moved in and out in a quick rhythm, stretching her and making a slurping sound as wetness continued to spill from her. As he continued to devour her hungrily.

Her head fell back as she lost herself to the sensations, feeling the coil of her release wind tighter. The cool metal of the hood of her car against her skin was a stark contrast to the heat of her body as she burned from his touch. She couldn’t believe she was doing this , here, on her car, but she was too far gone to care anymore. Fuck, she was so close .

And then he began to suck on her clit while his tongue and fingers continued to stroke her and Kagome lost all control of herself. Moaning incoherently, uncaring of how loud she was being, she writhed under his mouth. When he gently scraped one of his fangs over her sensitive nub she came apart, her hands grasping for something to anchor her while the ecstasy took her sky high.

“Ah! Ahhh! Inuyashaaa!”

“Delicious,” she heard him say, and thought he might have been licking his fingers of her essence. She wasn’t sure.

The world spun for a minute while she panted, trying to catch her breath. When her eyes refocused she looked up and saw Inuyasha had divested himself of the rest of his clothing and stood in front of her, gloriously naked. He looked like one of those statues of a Greek god, his body chiseled and well-defined with muscle. There was one notable difference between them and him, however, and it was the rather large appendage jutting out from between his legs.

Kagome stared for a second. He was definitely bigger than average, and she wondered for a moment if he would even fit inside her. Her eyes must have given her away because Inuyasha chuckled, pulling her close and kissing her senseless, and any doubt regarding that faded away.

He was going to the best she ever had: she just knew it.

As he kissed her, her hands caressed his ears again, rubbing the edges between her fingertips. Inuyasha’s own hands traced patterns up and down her back, one of them breaking away to grab a fistful of her hair. Languid warmth bloomed inside Kagome from the way he was making her feel and she wanted to return the favor.

“Your turn,” Kagome whispered against his lips.

Holding onto his shoulder to steady herself, her other hand trailed south across his skin. The muscles of his abdomen clenched under her feather-light touch before she reached her target and gripped his cock firmly. Squeezing, she ran her hand along the length of him, the pad of her thumb pressing against his tip and spreading the precum around in soft circles. He hissed out a breath, snarling softly.

“Fuck, your hand feels so good,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck.

Dragging her fingernail gently up the side of his cock as she pumped him, her hand tightened its grip, moving faster. He grunted out his pleasure, thrusting in time with the rhythm of her hand while his tongue rasped over her neck. Her head lolled to the side, allowing him better access as she stroked up and down, her hand giving a twist with each upward motion. His breathing became harsh, coming in pants, and Kagome gave a moan herself at the way his fangs scraped against the column of her throat.

She was already wet for him again.

“Smell amazing...fuck, gotta stop or I’m gonna....”

His voice was thick with desire and the sound sent tingles down her spine. Giving her neck one last nip, he raised his head and, reaching down between them, grabbed her hand in his, stopping her. She looked at him in confusion, uncertainty quelling her own desire, but the look in his gold eyes put any insecurities to bed. They were molten embers that burned for her and made her ache for him. A slow smile spread across his face and her body flushed.

“Why...why did you stop me?”

“I’m not gonna cum in your hand on the first date.”

But I came on yours . The words never made it past her lips as he spread her legs wider and rubbed his cock over her soaked pussy, pressing the head against her clit. She whimpered, falling back against the hood of her car as he repeated the motion before lining himself up at her entrance. She held her breath, waiting, and looked into his eyes. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she saw a hint of red at the edges and it thrilled her.

Then a thought occurred to her.

“W-wait! What about-- about protection?”

“Not to be weird, but I can smell ya, and you ain’t fertile right now.”

She blinked, absorbing this information, and felt equally aroused and appalled that he could apparently smell every facet of her being.

“You still want this?” His voice was a deep rasp.

“I still want it. I want you,” she answered.

The blunt head of his cock pressed against her and, at her consent, he slowly worked his way inside her until every inch was sheathed within her hot, dripping core. She moaned as sparks of pleasure danced over her skin and he gave an answering groan of his own. He was stretching her to the limit and the feeling was incredible. It made a delicious ache begin to swirl within her, radiating out from where he was buried so deep inside. And he hadn’t even moved yet.

“Ah, God,” he breathed, holding still for a moment as her body adjusted to the size of him. His hands were on either side of her head as his body loomed over her. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re not--?”

“--no. But it’s been a while,” Kagome breathed back. “Please, keep going. Don’t stop.”

Inuyasha growled and withdrew before thrusting back into her and she gasped, her breath hitching on another moan. And he didn’t stop, pumping into her hard, while her wet pussy gripped his cock tightly. She shifted her hips up against him with each thrust, trying to take him even deeper. The demanding ache inside of her was building and it needed more. She needed more. The shaft of his cock rubbed against her walls with each urgent movement, pressing against places she hadn’t even known were sensitive until they began to send jolts of ecstasy through her body while he fucked her.

Some distant part of her mind registered that Inuyasha was fucking her on her car. And she didn’t care. She loved it, wanted more, all her inhibitions slipping away. Each fierce thrust was making her breasts bounce wildly, something that didn’t escape his notice. Her back arched into his touch as he brought a hand up to possessively grasp one of her breasts, claws playing with her nipple as he squeezed the flesh.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunted as he pounded into her. “Uhn!! So fucking good!”

She didn’t even realize she was crying out at first, but she couldn’t seem to silence herself either, helpless against the way he was making her feel. Looking into Inuyasha’s face she decided she didn’t want to, anyways, because at each sound of pleasure that fell from her lips his eyes seemed to glow brighter, his breath catching, and his thrusts coming faster.

“Ahh! Ah! Inu-Inuyashaaa! I-- please-- Mmm! Yes!”

The coil of her release was wound so tight she was going to come apart any second. Inuyasha leaned down to scrape his fangs over her exposed neck, his tongue licking away the sting. When he moved his other hand from her thigh to her clit, rubbing in taut circles, the feeling sent her over the edge. She came hard, her legs trembling as she moaned loudly, her whole body shuddering.

“That’s it, Ka-go-me,” he panted at her, still thrusting into her wet, hot core and she whimpered.

Then he withdrew from her and she blinked, in a daze, wondering why he was stopping; he hadn’t reached his own release yet. She never got a chance to ask, his lips claiming hers in a kiss so tender that it belied the intensity of the way he had just been fucking her. Pulling away, his hungry eyes traced the length of her body before he gently picked her up, putting her feet on the ground, and flipped her over so her stomach was now against the hood of her car, her back to him.

Hands spread her thighs and in one swift motion he was buried inside her welcoming heat again. She whined as his cock stretched her, her fingers fisting. God, he made her feel so fucking good. Those strong hands of his held her in place as he began to thrust in and out, one splayed around her waist while the other slid around her front to play with her breasts.

“Ya didn’t think I was stoppin’, did ya?” His breath teased the shell of her ear.

A shudder of need ran through her at the feeling.

“Good...don’t stop!” She managed before the pleasure took her over again.

All she could do was moan his name as he fucked her harder, his cock hitting deep. Filling her up in the most delicious way possible. With each rapid thrust she was pushed up against her car, causing her clit to rub up against it and sending tiny shocks of euphoria through her body that left her gasping. The delicious friction of his cock pistoning inside her, coupled with that, had her crying out again, moving her hips back into him as she keened.

Inuyasha was groaning and grunting behind her and the sound turned her on even more. The noises he was making were almost animalistic and it excited her. Desire shot through her, the evidence of how good she was making him feel intensifying her own arousal, and the coil of her release tightened in response.

Raising her head, Kagome caught sight of her reflection in the windshield of her car and her eyes widened as she stared. Transfixed, she watched, her breath coming faster. Watched as she was fucked from behind, against her car, by the only man who had ever made her act in such a way. A man who should by all rights be a stranger, but who made her feel like no one ever had before. She had never witnessed anything like it, and a hot, sharp wave of lust pulsed along every nerve-ending before coiling low, right at her core.

The blissed out look on her face, the almost feral expression on Inuyasha’s... It was such an erotic vision, one she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from. More liquid heat pooled between her legs as her arousal and need heightened, the pressure building to unbearable levels.

His rhythm quickened, his breathing turning shallow, and Kagome could tell he was close to his climax. She was close, too. Her heart was a staccato beat in her chest, her breathing ragged, her skin slick with sweat. The slapping sound of skin and their moans, harsh pants, and gasps permeated the air. Reaching behind her, she grabbed onto his perfect ass, rolling her hips back into him, meeting his hard and deep thrusts.

“Inu-Inuyasha--ahh! Ah! Oh fuck, yes!” she cried out.

“Fuck...Kagome, I’m gonna--” Inuyasha grunted, leaning over her to wrap his arms around her as he thrust. Harder. Deeper. Faster. His mouth found her neck again and she threw her head back.

“--do it! I want it!” she said breathily.

His body went rigid behind her as he spilled himself inside her, breathing heavily and groaning from the force of his release. The warm sensation of his cum shooting up inside her combined with everything else sent her over the edge and she came right after, her orgasm almost blinding her in its ferocity. It spread through her like wildfire, strong and immediate, more intensely than she had ever felt before. For a moment, she saw stars and the world fell away. When she came back to herself Inuyasha was smoothing her hair to the side and pressing kisses to her shoulder.

“You good?” he rumbled into her ear.

Kagome smiled, almost laughing at the question. She was completely sated.

“More than good.”

“Good.”

He pulled out of her, turning her around so that she faced him. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly while she waited for her legs to support her again. As the languid heat of her satisfaction began to dissipate, other thoughts took hold again, making her heart beat faster for an entirely different reason.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, suddenly feeling almost horrified. It made no sense after everything they had just done, but her sense of shame was returning along with her good sense.

Inuyasha frowned, his ears flattening.

“What’s wrong?”

Kagome buried her face in his chest as she spoke.

“I--I can’t believe I just… I mean, I know I said I wanted to, and told you not to stop, but--”

“--you regretting it?” His voice was low.

Kagome didn’t miss the underlying emotion of hurt beneath it. She rushed to explain.

“No! No!! Not at all. I just… I never do this. And I did. On the first date. I just feel something so-- so strongly for you, and I wanted it so much, but-- God, I can’t imagine what you think of me...”

Inuyasha seemed to relax at her confession, and he had the audacity to laugh. She glared against his chest.

“You said somethin’ like that before everything got heated. Listen, I told ya already. I feel it, too. And besides, I think you’re the hottest, most interesting woman I ever met.”

She raised her head from his chest to cautiously peek at his face. He gave her a fanged smile and she relaxed against him, sighing softly.

“You mean that?”

“Absolutely. Though your luck is cursed and the way you take care of your car is a crime.”

“Such sweet words. Keep talking to me like that and I just may believe you,” she teased, smiling back at him now.

“So...would it be weird to ask ya for another, actual date, now?”

“Not at all.”

She leaned up to kiss him and he returned it with interest. His mouth on hers, his body pressed against her...it was intoxicating. It was perfect. When they broke apart they were both breathing heavily again.

“Now, what was that about my customer service lacking…?” Inuyasha said, his gold eyes burning for her.

“I changed my mind. Five stars. Glowing reviews,” Kagome replied, her smile turning seductive.

And he proceeded to earn every word of praise.

#Inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha fanfic #inukag fanfic #InuKag #Inuyasha x Kagome #Customer Service #SMUT #LOTS OF SMUT

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sonderthroughthestreets · 4 years ago

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Splitting Universes

Here is the sobbe fic that I wanted to write for their anniversary last friday but obviously im late for it lol

Someone said that Sander said “In every universe” because it comforts Robbe with his multiverse theory and that Robbe said “At least in this universe” because it comforts Sander who believes that life is what you choose to make of it. Sooooo, here is Sander painting on Robbe’s back while talking about the universe and brown-haired Sander asking Robbe to marry him. Hope you enjoy!

“Hold still, will you?” Sander’s voice faltered into a chuckle.

He was sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed, legs crossed, holding Robbe as he tried to glide his paintbrush across the skin on his back. The two of them had summer break before the start of the next year and they’d somehow found themselves fooling around, dancing in Sander’s room and finally settled into a spark of an idea in Robbe’s mind to let him paint his back. His shirt was gone and he’d sunk into the floor, crossing his legs too, leaning forward instead of letting himself lean back in the comfort of Sander’s arms.

“The paint is cold. I’m cold ok,” Robbe scoffed, turning his head to try to meet his eyes with a smile. But Sander smirked with half-lidded eyes and pushed his head back into place. He let out a breath of the tiniest laugh.

It was killing Robbe not to look at him. Especially not after he grew out his hair. Sander had cut it a few years ago and let it go back to its natural brown, let the bleach blond wash out and wash away. It was terribly short then, but now it had grown out in longer locks that he just had to style every morning. Today, it was tousled in a messy-but-every-hair-was-perfectly-in-place kind of way. It looked similar to when his hair was bleached but darker roots had replaced the white wash. Some days Robbe could swear he’d seen Sander like this his whole life and others he felt like he was looking at a whole new world.

He also wished that he could see his face right now, the concentration he wore when a creative mood strikes.

“Are you almost done?” Robbe asked.

“Not even close,” Sander answered, his fingers moving swiftly, changing between brushes and colours.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Mmhhh,” he mused. “It’s something we talk about a lot.”

“That could literally be anything,” Robbe pouted. He wanted to know what Sander envisioned across his back.

“Let’s talk about it now,” he dipped his brush in water. “You think that when someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself,” he said. Nothing more. Silence as Robbe contemplated.

“You’re painting me the universe?” Robbe shifted to try to look back at him.

“Hold. still.” Sander gripped his shoulders.

“What kind of universe?” Robbe pondered. He lazily ran a finger down his own palm as he awaited his answer, the fan humming in the summer heat.

“I don’t know” he smiled, though Robbe couldn’t see it. “Any universe you want.”

The way he said that made Robbe smile too. The way that when he said it, he meant all the universes, that he could have any universe because in all of them, one way or another, they were together.

“Hhmmm,” Robbe murmured in contentment. He stared around Sander’s room: the Bowie posters spread across the walls, his camera laying on his disorganized desk, papers and drawing utensils scattered, his easel in the corner, the dresser off to the side, his clothes neatly folded on the bed. The open window let the warm breeze through and the sky made everything in his room glow the softest, palest blues, greys and greens. Robbe’s eyes finally landed on his shirt discarded on the hardwood floor and he felt shivers all over again as cold paint slid on his skin.

It was moments like these where they talked some, then fell into silence, talked some more and finally fell into each other’s touch that eased both their minds. Sander was very quiet now.

“What are you thinking?” Robbe asked.

A sort of sad smile crossed his face, one that he couldn’t see.

“Sander.”

And Sander knew that tone all too well. He delicately placed a hand on Robbe’s neck, softly smiled into his hair and kissed his head. Once, twice, a third time for good measure.

“Do you remember our first night at the hotel?” he asked softly.

“How could I forget?” Robbe sighed happily. But his fingers weren’t on him anymore and Robbe actually felt heat dissipate from behind him as Sander leaned back a bit. He turned his head the slightest, hesitant to look at him for fear he might actually ruin the work on his back. Robbe waited patiently. He recognized his insecurities at play but he wasn’t quite sure of what.

“I know that..” Sander started. “I know that that night I wasn’t...but I meant every word...and I know that I asked once already...”

He was grasping for courage to say what he wanted. Robbe knew he could be ever so confident in his words, even more so in his touch, but sometimes it faltered and he saw him sheepish and insecure. Things started to click in Robbe’s mind. They hadn’t exactly talked about this since that night. At least not seriously. It was always fun banter, like an inside joke or like the continuation of an ongoing plan that may or may not ever be seen through. They were so busy living in the moment, the future had seemed so far away.

It had been

“When we get married I’m painting everything in the house. We’re not buying prints”

“When we get married?”

“We’re getting married right now”

It had been

“Mr. Driesen”

“Oh, we’re married now?”

“In my mind we are”

It had been

“Do you think I should get another ring?”

“Depends. Do you want to be called Mr. Ijzermans?”

It had been

“You’re making croques again? Marry me”

“Okay”

Laughter and kisses always followed. Comfort in agreeing a million different ways was always found. But a concrete, tangible answer was never there.

Robbe understood now why Sander had seemed hesitant and unsure with all this talk of the universe and decisions. They’d been together for more than two years now yet they hadn’t really made official plans for marriage. They were still studying in uni which meant of course, they’d wait until after, but it was never a conversation that lasted very long. While Robbe had talked about all his theories, Sander had made sure to tell him that he’d choose him in every universe. But sometimes it seemed he became overwhelmed with that many versions of them and he didn’t want to think of a world where they might not choose each other every day. Robbe shifted his legs carefully and placed a hand on Sander’s knee, feeling the fabric of his shorts cling in the heat. A signal, a sign, a plea to carry on. They could both feel a nervousness set in, their hearts fluttering in this fleeting moment.

Sander sighed.

“Robbe Ijzermans” he said. “Will you marry m-“

He didn’t even get to utter the question before Robbe turned around, took his face in his hands and connected their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

When someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself.

Sander had a lot of time the past couple of years to think of this. Robbe loved to talk about the multiverse theory, the parallel universes, and the alternate dimensions. He talked his ear off about how each can be so different and in one he’d find himself being a skater or a gamer, in another he’d find himself studying anthropology, and in another he may even have gone to an elite school. Or more so maybe he could’ve been the one studying art instead. Or how he could be in one where he didn’t meet his friends, in one where he didn’t have to miss his mama so much growing up, or one where his dad made different choices. Choices. Decisions. It always came back to that. If we all made different decisions, life could’ve been very different, Robbe had said. And once we make a decision, there are two worlds, one where you chose one thing, another where you chose different.

Whether Sander wanted to admit it or not, that scared him a lot. It scared him to think there could be a world where he continued on with Britt or worse, one where he hadn’t met Robbe. And with each decision solidifying closer and closer a world where Sander and Robbe stay together, he had wondered if living in this universe was enough. If not thinking of the other worlds and staying here together was enough.

Robbe had soothed his worries, tapped the worry lines on his forehead, kissed his temple and had run fingers softly through his auburn hair. He had reminded him of his own theories of life becoming what you choose to make of it. He had reminded him that they were together in this universe.

But nothing was reminding him of that fact more than this kiss they were now sharing.

Sander’s fingers tangled in Robbe’s hair, now a bit longer and fluffier, his mouth softly tracing unspoken words into his lips. He felt Robbe’s hands slide from his face to his neck to grip his black t-shirt and pull them up as they both rose to their knees, a more comfortable position than before. They both let each other fill their lungs up in this hot, searing kiss, somehow both passionate and gentle. Sander breathed out as he broke apart first.

“Will you?” he teased.

“Yes,” Robbe pulled him in for another kiss. “Yes.”

And just like that a decision was made, a world was created.

Sander broke the kiss again.

“I don’t have a ring for you,” he smirked.

“I don’t care,” Robbe’s mouth etched up as he drew closer, searching his lips. Both of their eyes twinkled in an enticing, tantalizing manner. Instead Sander leaned back and smiled, standing up to get his ring from the dresser.

“Here,” he slipped it onto Robbe’s slender finger.

“Thank you. It doesn’t fit,” he snorted because sure enough, it was a little loose and sliding off his hand. This proposal was far from the real thing Sander had planned, especially since they were still students, struggling to keep afloat in the midst of studies and spending time together, but this moment was finally real.

As Sander took back the ring and slid it on his own hand, Robbe asked,

“Did you really paint the universe on my back?”

Right. He’d almost forgotten what prompted him to think about their future together in the first place.

“Come,” he tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom in the hall. He took Robbe’s hands and lead him to the mirror where he turned him around and showed him.

It was a galaxy of stars and sparkles, colours of blacks, dark purples, greens, pinks and blues all mixed into a combination of an ethereal light. It was everything Sander had been thinking about with Robbe. His fears, his doubts, his joy, his love.

“In every universe, right?” Sander entwined his fingers with Robbe as they both stared at his back in the reflection. Robbe took the time to stare at it a while longer.

“Yeah,” he said. Then he looked at Sander with dark, dilated eyes, squeezing his hand. “But especially in this universe, too.”

#wtfock #wtfam #thank you so much bianca for reading this over #💖#also this is probably like my first official fic ive written so sorry if it kinda sucks lol #fic #my fic #omg all my italicized words got unitalicized🤦‍♀️

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mar-bluu · 5 years ago

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Tomorrow

Okay! so this is a part 2 to this fic that i posted a few days ago, you’ll probably need it for context but you might be able to pick it up pretty quickly (i hope) Anyway! The absolutely wonderful @cutesiewoojin sent me a lovely idea for some more angst! hope you enjoy! Pairing: Belmerttons Words: 2.4 k Warnings: swearing, general angst, head wound, electrocution

Warmth seeped through Buttons’ body as he fluttered his eyes open. He yawned and flexed his fingers, stretching slightly. “Morning, Sunshine.” He felt a hand run through his hair and jolted from his half-asleep state, grabbing the hand and craning his neck to see who it was attached to. Elmer smiled down at him from above. “You okay?” Buttons let go of his hand and yawned again, feeling his face heat slightly as he recalled what happened earlier. “Uh, yeah. I think so, at least.” He felt his stomach grumble. “A little hungry though.”

I bet,” Elmer said, brushing his hand through Buttons’ hair again. “It’s been like four days since I’ve seen you eat.” He gave a small chuckle, trying to hide the embers of worry sparking in his eyes. “I didn’t think I could fuck up a sandwich that bad!” He nodded to the plate with the untouched ham and cheese, it’d probably have to be thrown out by now. Buttons gave a small, sheepish laugh of his own, being unable to find the words he needed. Should he apologise? Ignore it? Play it off as if nothing happened? He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to think of something to say. “What time is it?” He settled on. Elmer checked his watch.

“Three forty-seven in the morning.” Buttons raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, so I’ve only been out for like an hour.” Elmer frowned in confusion.

“It’s Thursday.”

“…what?”

“You’ve been asleep for just over twenty-four hours.” Buttons gawked at Elmer’s statement. After a few seconds of Buttons staring into space, processing the information, Elmer waved a hand in front of his face. “Buttons?” Buttons blinked, turning to him, feeling his shoulders twinge with a slight pain which he shrugged off. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Well, yeah I-” Buttons’ eyes widened in shock as he shifted around to face Elmer, his shoulders and arms pinching in the same way as before. “What the hell dude!? You stayed here the whole time!?”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you.”

“Yes, you could!” He grabbed the sides of Elmer’s face and smoothed a thumb over his cheek. “Did you have anything to eat? Or drink? Are you hungry!?” Elmer laughed again.

“No, I’m okay. I really need to pee, though.” Buttons smiled and moved himself to his knees then to his feet, another spasm rolled through his leg and up to his hip and he gave a small gasp of pain, which he quickly covered with a cough. Elmer hauled himself up, twisting and stretching his legs. “I’ll bring something to eat and some water on my way back that you will eat this time, yeah?” Buttons nodded, shooting him a quick thumbs-up as Elmer disappeared out into the hallway. Buttons rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers as he felt a familiar tingling sensation buzz through the air, electrical currents were always comforting to him. He shook his hands out, stilling his mind as he focused on the currents, humming like old friends. He watched as a small bolt of lightning crackled between his fingers before dimming out. A sharp pain shot up his arm, feeling like a hundred hot needles pricking into his skin. Buttons flinched, stifling a small yelp. He blinked in confusion. What was happening? He shook his head and held his hands out again, this time clicking his fingers in a vain attempt to summon a spark. Unlike his first attempt though, nothing happened. Not a single thing. Well, nothing except the excruciating agony shooting down his arms and into his stomach. He doubled over with pain, gasping for air as pinpricks of light danced in front of his eyes. He stayed there, hunched over, for a few minutes, waiting for his vision to clear and pain to subside, before trying once more. However, this time as he clicked his fingers, trying to ignite a small spark, there was hardly any pain above a pins and needle sensation in his arms. Weird. He thought to himself. Buttons was brought back to reality by the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer to the doorway. He looked up to see Elmer walk in, plates of food balanced precariously on one arm and two cups of water wrapped in the other. Buttons moved over to help Elmer, limping slightly as he went. “I would’ve made something a little nicer, seeing as it’s your first proper meal in a while, but we have a shit-ton of bread, so sandwiches it is again! This time, a little fancier, with some apple slices and kinda stale biscuits I found in the back of the pantry.” Buttons grinned.

“That’s more than fine, thank you!” He grabbed the cups from Elmer and made his way back toward the desk, setting the cups down before looking back to the other boy. “Could you give me my powers back?” Elmer cocked his head to the side and blinked slowly.

“I did?” It was Buttons’ turn to look confused.

“You did?”

“Yeah, why?” Elmer placed the plates down and leaned against the edge of the desk. Buttons flexed his fingers, faint light fizzling pathetically from his fingertips. He looked up to Elmer and shrugged. “I don’t know what’s up with them.” Elmer hummed in thought.

“Maybe this is your burnout? Try eating something, maybe that’ll help?” Buttons nodded. It made sense, perhaps that was what the pain was too? Hunger and burnout? He pulled up the chair as Elmer sat on the corner of the desk and pushed a plate toward him. “Thanks.” Buttons said

“No problem” replied Elmer. And that was the end of their conversation, the two of them sitting in silence as they ate. As time slowly ticked past the ten-minute mark, Buttons shifted uncomfortably. He felt like he should say something, Elmer had spent so much time and effort into looking after him, and Buttons had only responded with anger. It felt awkward. He wracked his brain for something to say, something nice or funny or something along those lines. He swallowed the last mouthful of his sandwich, then spoke. “You’re a lovely singer, El.” Elmer gave a polite chuckle.

“Thanks, but you were half asleep when you heard that, being almost unconscious probably improved it ten-fold.”

“Nonsense!” Buttons dismissed with a wave of his hand as they fell back into silence. Elmer glanced up after the brief pause and motioned to Buttons. “How about you? Do you sing?” Buttons laughed, shaking his head definitively. “Not in the slightest.”

“Aww, c’mon!” Elmer nudged him. “Can’t be any worse than me!” Buttons shook his head again.

“Nah, I won’t hurt your ears with that.” Elmer shrugged, smirking.

“Well, if ya change your mind, I’m a big Annie fan.” Buttons smiled as the two finished up eating. They talked for a few more minutes before Buttons decided it was time to try out his powers again. He stood up, a few paces away from the desk, where Elmer sat, cheering him on quietly as not to wake anyone. Buttons held his hands out in front of him and clicked. A hint of a zap sot through his fingers, causing him slight pain, more of a shock than anything, but apart from that, nothing happened. “You got this!” Elmer encouraged warmly. Buttons shook out his shoulders and tried again. The pain was significantly more intense now, and Buttons physically jolted. Still, no spark. Elmer cheered him on again. He tried a third time, this time he whimpered as the zap burned through his arm and both down his chest and up to his neck. Elmer didn’t cheer this time. “Buttons? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just gotta focus!”

“Are you sure? You-” Buttons clicked again, his veins flickering with light under his skin, as he screamed into his hand, knees buckling beneath him. It felt like the electricity was there, enough for him to manipulate, but it was like it was getting stuck in him, unable to find an exit and instead resonating through his body, frying him from the inside out. Elmer threw himself off the table, rushing to Buttons’ side. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” It felt like the energy was building inside of him, like it was growing and growing until it hit the boiling point and surpassed it, turning Buttons into a ticking time bomb of electricity. “Stand back,” he growled through gritted teeth, his body contorting in pain. He wasn’t even trying to use his powers anymore and he could still feel it pulsing through his body, expanding and flourishing against his will. Buttons screamed again, practically writhing in agony. As Elmer reached for him again. “No!” But Elmer grabbed him anyway, his hand wrapping around Buttons’ upper arm was like pulling the pin on a grenade. A high pitched whining echoed through Buttons’ ears and he clamped his hands over his head as a powerful wave of energy pulsed out of him, flipping the desk, sending the plates and cups smashing onto the ground, and throwing Elmer back, ripping his hand off of Buttons’ arm as he went flying backward into the wall before slumping in a twisted pile on the floor. Buttons crashed onto his side breathing heavily as the remaining power spasmed through him, making his legs and arms twitch and shudder in pain. But all Buttons could think about was Elmer. What have I done!? He thought. I can’t have hurt someone else! Not again! As the electricity finished riding its course through his body, he hauled himself onto shaky knees and half crawled half dragged himself over to Elmer, who was stirring faintly in a dazed state. He didn’t look good, and tears welled in Buttons’ eyes as he looked at the damage he’d caused. “No,” he whispered. “no, no, no! Please be okay! Please!” Elmer’s shirt had a large, wide hole burnt into it, framing a long scorch mark carved across the width of his chest. Elmer stirred again, attempting to bring a weak hand up to his wound. “Hey, hey, hey!” Buttons lifted Elmer under his arms and moved him into his lap, cradling him close, trying to avoid looking at the other burns on Elmer’s hands and neck, singe marks adorning his pale skin, slick with sweat. Elmer’s eyes fluttered as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Buttons cushioned Elmer’s head with his hands, trying in vain to do something, anything to help him. He ran a hand through the back of Elmer’s hair and felt his heart drop as he fought the urge to vomit. There, on the back of Elmer’s head was a large, sticky spot. Buttons tentatively drew his hand back, hoping that it wasn’t what he thought it was. He slowly turned his hand over and cried out, think blood coating his hand. He began to hyperventilate, his rapid breathing occasionally interrupted by strangled sobs were the only sounds that filled the room. He was shaking, not just from the electricity, as he panicked over what to do next. Elmer looked up at Buttons through hazy, spaced-out eyes. “Sorry, B.” he smiled faintly.

“Sorry?” Buttons laughed nervously. “What do you have to be sorry for? This is my fault.”

“Nah,” he mumbled. “I shoulda listened when you told me to stand back.” Buttons shook his head.

“You’re crazy.”

“And tired.” Buttons felt his stomach drop.

“You can’t go to sleep just yet, you have to stay awake, okay? El, stay awake for me.” Buttons began to panic again, trying to desperately think of something to try and keep Elmer awake. His mind whirred as he searched for ideas. “Oh!” Buttons drummed his fingers on the floor as he tried to remember words that now of all times he had to remember.

‘The sun will come out, tomorrow’ ‘Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun’

Elmer gave a faint smile as he cuddled into Buttons’ side.

‘Just thinking about tomorrow,’ ‘Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow 'til there's none.’

Buttons stroked Elmer’s hair, avoiding the cut on the back of his head.

‘When I'm stuck in a day, that's grey and lonely,’ ‘I just stick out my chin, and grin, and say, Oh.’

He didn’t know what to do, he was desperately wanting to go get help, but something inside of him was telling him to stay, that he couldn’t leave Elmer alone, because what if he left to find help and never got to see him again? Never hear his warm laugh, or see his smile that was so bright it lit up rooms? Never got to run his thumb delicately over the sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks? Never got to feel his warm lips pressed against his own? Buttons let out a shaky breath and all he could do was sit there and sing.

‘The sun will come out tomorrow’ ‘So ya gotta hang on 'til tomorrow, come what may’

Elmer intertwined his hand with Buttons’ and looked up, a small smile on his face as he watched him sing. It’s working! Buttons thought. “See?” Elmer wheezed. “You have a wonderful voice.’ Buttons blushed and continued running his fingers through Elmer’s hair. Something that sounded like footsteps sounded faintly down one of the hallways. Help! Buttons’ heart soared at the hope. Elmer yawned as his eyes began to droop, his smile shining a little duller on his face. Buttons’ heart sped up again as he realised Elmer couldn’t hold on much longer.

‘Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow!’ ‘You're always a day away’

The footsteps sounded louder and closer, and a faint voice came from by the doorway. Buttons looked up to see Mush, standing in the door, staring at Elmer in shock and horror. Not wanting to disturb the boy in his lap, Buttons met Mush’s gaze and nodded in the direction of their infirmary, a silent plea for him to go get Blink’s help. Mush nodded and took off back down the hallway, soft footfalls getting more and more distant.

‘When I'm stuck in a day, that's grey and lonely,’ ‘I just stick out my chin, and grin, and say, Oh.’

Elmer’s eyes began to flutter shut, and Buttons felt his eyes begin to burn with tears. He silently willed for Blink’s speedy arrival. And it seemed as though his prayers had been answered as he began to hear the footsteps again, more than one pair this time.

‘Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow!’

He looked up as the footsteps approached the door, Blink leading the charge, first aid kit tucked under his arm as his hands glowed with soft light. He broke. Tears spilled down Buttons’ cheeks as he leaned down to dust a light kiss to Elmer’s forehead. It was going to be okay, they were going to be okay, Elmer was going to be okay.

‘You're always a day away’

#asdfghj #its 4:13 am and i wrote this all in one go #im probably gonna hate this AND myself in the morning but ah well #buttons davenport #elmer kasprzak #belmerttons #superpowered gang au #newsies #angst #head injury tw #jae writes #i hope you all have a great day!!#:))

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classictogetherlike · 5 years ago

Text

Chemistry [L.R.H]

Surprise fic post! I finally finished this one up, it’s been bugging me for awhile but I’m really happy with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy it, feel free to send in requests or just come talk!

Warnings: Kinda sad, kinda angsty, kinda fluffy. There’s a lot going on here.

WC: 2615

At the rate her day was going, Y/N was sure she’d be dead by the end of it. She had set the wrong alarm the night before and woke up twenty minutes before her first class, barely making it on time before realizing that the test that she thought was the following week was in fact today. So there goes that grade.

Her roommate had texted to remind her that rent was due early this month, because of course it was, and when she finally, finally was able to head home, got caught in a pop up thunderstorm that soaked her in seconds. A great day, really.

Cursing every entity that she could possibly think of, she finally reached her apartment complex and stumbled her way up to the third floor before freezing in her tracks. Sat in front of her door was a face she hadn’t expected to see for at least another three weeks, a face she hadn’t spoken to in at least three days. Luke.

He had glanced up at the sound of her feet hitting the floor, a small smile forming on his face as he took in the sight of his soaked girlfriend. “Hey, babe.” All she could do was stare, and for a second, she considered turning around and walking back downstairs, before ultimately deciding to reach her right hand to her left arm and pinch herself as hard as she could.

Upon finding herself still standing across from her boyfriend and not in fact dreaming, she slowly walked closer to the apartment door, reaching into her purse to grab her keys. He moved off to the side to let her access the door, his small smile turning a little bit nervous at her reaction to his presence. When the two were safely inside the apartment, the door shut behind them, Y/N finally met his gaze.

“What are you doing here?” His smile turned into a frown at the question, and he began picking at the polish on his nails. “We have a few days off and I thought I’d come see you. I know our last conversation didn’t go really well and I wanted to make it right.”

Her eyes narrowed at his words, scoffing slightly as she turned to walk towards the bedroom. “A conversation? That’s what you’d call that interaction? I think most people would classify their partner accusing them of cheating to be at least an argument, don’t you think?” Once in her room she moved to the dresser, changing out of her soaked clothing and into an old t-shirt and sweats.

Luke slowly followed her to the bedroom, frown more predominant as he gathered his thoughts. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Y/N’s phone rings, breaking into whatever he was going to say. She barely spares him a glance before answering her phone. “Hello? Oh hi, Cal. Yeah, I know, he’s standing right in front of me.”

Her eyes dart over to Luke’s figure in the doorway before focusing back on her fidgeting hands.

“Yeah, I’ll let him know. I don’t know what's going to happen, Cal, I’ll let you know. Bye.” She tosses her phone down onto the bed, eyes moving to settle on Luke. “I thought you had a break? Calum seemed concerned because apparently, you just up and left in the middle of the night.” He flinches at her harsh tone and steps further into the room and moves to sit on the bed. “Can we please talk? Please, Y/N. I know I messed up and I’m really, really sorry.” She scoffs and sits across from him on the bed, legs crossed in front of her. “Are you really sorry though, Luke? Waiting three days to even attempt to apologize really doesn’t sit well with me, especially after what you said.” “I didn’t mean it, you know that! I was just stressed and frustrated.” His rebuttal is much louder than her question and is accompanied by dramatic hand gestures that would’ve made her laugh if she wasn’t so upset.

“Just because you were ‘stressed’ and ‘frustrated’,” her voice grinds out, “doesn’t give you the right to take it out on me and accuse me of fucking cheating on you.” It’s hard to breathe now, her chest feels like it’s constricting and she knows what’s coming, she can recognize the slightest hint of a panic attack from miles away, and although she tries to shut it down it pushes through anyways. Luke notices, of course he notices. He knows practically everything about her. Coffee over tea, dogs over cats, hair up and out of her face instead of loose on her shoulders. He sure as hell can tell when her breathing becomes tighter and her fingers begin to shake, he notices the slight wandering of her left eye as she stares into the space in front of her.

He moves closer to her, not close enough to touch her, but close enough that her eyes focus back in on the room. He lowers his voice, telling her that he’s going to start counting out a breathing pattern and that she needs to follow it, and she does. In for four, out for three, over and over again until the air feels lighter, feels more manageable and her fingers stop shaking. When she finally locks her gaze on him, her resolve breaks and she’s in his arms, sobbing.

Large hands rub up and down her back and he starts humming under his breath, letting her get her emotions out. He knows she hasn’t let them out since the fight, the god awful fight, and he knows she has let it grow and fester in her mind until now. It takes what feels like hours but is likely only minutes before her breathing has leveled out and he leans back to catch her gaze.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice, I didn’t mean to stress you out even more.” His voice breaks the silence in the room, barely a whisper but strong in the face of emotions and high tension.

His hands rise to her face, wiping away the stray tears remnant of a panic attack that he feels could have been avoided. No, he knows it could have been avoided. He’s not blind to what he did and what he said, both moments ago and three days ago. His emotions came first in those moments, not worrying about how it would impact hers. And although they had discussed that they both needed to share and expel their emotions, they had agreed to do it in a civilized manner.

Well, as civilized as you could be with emotions pouring out. They avoided pulling personal cards to guilt the other into agreeing and listening, no bringing up past arguments because they all should be settled and stirring a pot of old emotions definitely wouldn’t help with whatever was coursing through their minds and bodies at that moment.

But he ignored their rules, letting a moment of insecurity and longing to be near her dictate the harsh words that came out of his mouth.

“Hey this is Y/N, sorry I can’t get to the phone right now, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

“Hey, babe, it’s me. Luke, which you probably know because I’ve called like ten times in the past half hour. It’s -uh, it’s 7:30, well 7:55 now, but it’s our time to talk for today but I haven’t heard from you. Give me a call when you’re ready to talk.”

She let out a sigh of relief as she entered the car, tossing her backpack onto the passenger seat before putting the key into the ignition and starting the car. Her phone connects to the bluetooth, blasting out her 90’s playlist before abruptly cutting off with the sound of her ringtone.

Pressing the accept button on her radio, she answers the phone as she backs out of her parking spot.

“Hello?”

“Oh, you actually answered?” His voice is rough, tone coming across as a mix between hostile and relieved, though causing her forehead to wrinkle in confusion.

“Lu? What’s wrong bub?” “I wasn’t expecting you to pick up is all. I’ve been calling for nearly an hour, Y/N.” Her eyes dart to the clock as she stops at a light, eyes widening when she realizes how late it is. “Oh, god, Lu I am so so sorry. I was at the library with Brendon and Will, we’ve got this huge chem test tomorrow and I must’ve forgotten to tell you I needed to push our talk tonight to a little bit later.”

Silence. She knows he’s still on the line, she can hear him breathing and the muffled sounds of the other boys on the bus. She also knows he’d never hang up on her, not once has he done it in the year they’ve been together, no matter how stressed out or angry the two of them may be.

“Luke?”

“You went out with Brendon again?” She squeezes her eyes shut momentarily, realizing where this conversation may lead. A beep from the car behind her has her eyes flying open, pressing her foot down on the gas pedal and heads through the intersection. “Luke, we didn’t go out, we went to the library to study. And Will joined us, it wasn’t just Brendon and I.”

He’s silent again and she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “You said you wouldn’t talk to him anymore. Not after last time.”

She sighs, flipping the blinker on and turning into the parking lot of her apartment. “I wasn’t planning on it, Lu, but no one else was getting together to study tonight, they were all going to go in the morning but I’ve got work.”

Her car is shut off after pulling into her space, picking her phone up and squashing it between her shoulder and her ear as she gathers her stuff to head inside. She’s not making a lot of noise, but enough that she almost misses the words that he mumbled in response.

“Right, fifty people and only he’s available.” She freezes, nearly drops her phone as her mouth drops open, changing the angle her phone was resting at. “Excuse me?”

He scoffs and it sends a sour feeling through her body. “I just find it odd that the only person available to study is the same guy who tried to get you to dump me.”

“Luke can we not do this, please? I’m home now and if you give me a few minutes I can be ready to FaceTime, okay?” “Actually, I’ve got stuff I have to do, so I should go. If you want to FaceTime someone, I’m sure Brendon would be happy to help.”

The line clicks dead and her mouth fell open once again, taking in the fact that her boyfriend has essentially accused her of cheating and had actually hung up on her. She must stand in the entryway of her apartment for too long because suddenly her roommate is calling her name and asking if she’s okay.

She manages out some sort of reply about how she’s okay and just tired before stumbling into her bedroom and falling on the bed, tears soaking her pillow and a massive headache beginning to form behind her eyes.

They’ve moved further up the bed and she’s cuddled into his chest while they sit and gather their thoughts. She knows that part of the argument was her fault, she was normally really good at letting Luke know if she needed to change her plans, but she also knows that his comments were completely uncalled for.

“I love you, Luke.” She sits up to look him in the eyes, seeing the same nervous and apprehensive expression she’s sure is gracing her face staring back at her. “I love you, but you can’t do that. That doesn’t work for me, I can’t handle being called a cheater when my boyfriend is halfway across the country. I know that I should’ve sent you a text about going to study, but I got so busy and it slipped my mind.”

His fingers are linked with hers and his thumbs are gently rubbing circles on hers as he lets her get her thoughts out before he speaks his peace. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that and I know being stressed and frustrated isn’t an excuse and neither are my feelings towards Brendon. You’re doing so well at school and I know that you wouldn’t study with him unless you had to and I just-”

His voice cuts off and suddenly choking, gasping sounds are coming out of his mouth and he’s sobbing. She pulls him closer immediately and lets him curl into her chest, rubbing her hands up and down his back to try and calm him down.

“I just- I just miss you so much when I’m gone and I know our lives have so many different people in them but I hate not being here to spend time with you and help you and-” “Luke Robert Hemmings.” Her interruption startles him and forces him to glance up and lock eyes with her. “You are doing the most important thing for you. I love you so much for putting yourself first sometimes, and your tours are those times. I know how important music and the band are, and I knew that getting into a relationship with you. I know our relationship isn’t conventional in any way and that sometimes we spend more time apart than together, but that’s a sacrifice we both knew we would have to make.” Her hands reach up and to frame Luke’s face, their eyes still locked, and she pulls him in for a quick kiss. Their lips meet and linger for a moment, and she can feel the tears streaming down his face. She pulls back and wipes the tears from his cheeks, offering him a small smile.

“I love you, Lu. So much. But you can’t shut me out anymore and you definitely can’t accuse me of being unfaithful.” Luke’s head moves up and down, agreeing with her statement. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so so sorry.” Her fingers run through his hair as he apologizes, recognizing his need to apologize an absurd amount of times, knowing that it makes him feel better. She sits there and lets him mumble apologies and I love you’s to his heart's content until the room is silent, only the sound of their breathing apparent in the room.

Luke’s voice finally breaks the silence some ten minutes later. It’s still rough from crying, though it lacks the hesitancy and uncertainty that tainted it earlier. “How did your chemistry test go?”

Y/N barks out a laugh, leaning up and planting a kiss on his cheek as she dives into detail about how her test went and how half of the class didn’t even show up for the exam. Luke watches her explanation with a smile gracing his face, more content than he’s been in a long time, tackling her to the side of the bed when she tells him that she scored an A on her test.

Her pleas fill the air as he attacks her face with peckish kisses, on her forehead, cheeks, nose, even planting some on her closed eyelids as she laughs. He knows that he’ll apologize for at least another week, and that she’ll accept his apologies as long as he gives them, but for now, everything is good. Everything is great.

#luke hemmings #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings x reader #amber writes #5sos imagine #5sos fic #5sos #five seconds of summer #five seconds of summer fic #calum hood #boyfriend luke #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you

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bubblyani · 5 years ago

Text

Temptation

(Freddie Jackson x Reader)

A Freddie Jackson One Shot

Request by: @97freaknik

Rating: Mature (NSFW)

Warnings: May-December Relationship, Swearing, Sexual Content.

Author’s Note: This was one unexpected sort of fic. And so the same applies to the ending. Hope y’all enjoy!!

The chilled cola managed to moisten your tongue and cool your throat with each sip you took. Summer had finally announced it’s arrival in London, and all seemed to have noticed it. “So...what did he say?” asked Kim Jackson, your best friend as she folded her legs on the settee.

Upon your first meeting, you made a great friend out of Kim in the very first year at University. The two of you grew so close, winning you the privilege of becoming a usual visitor at her home during the first summer break.

Shrugging your shoulders casually, you replied, “Well he said he liked me...” you continued, a confident aura surrounding you as you sat on the armchair across from her, “...he wanted to get a drink with me or...whatever”

The excitement in Kim’s eyes did reflect in yours. And she was surprised. “And...?” She asked. You curled your lip with squinted eyes. “Well.. what do you think?” You scoffed in an unimpressed tone. Kim laughed, shaking her head, “Y/N...you’re mental!” She exclaimed, “Harry is such a great bloke..”

You clicked your tongue, taking another sip, “...maybe ...but meh! Not my type...” “Oh yeah?” Your friend began, moving forward, “Then what is your type?” “I don’t know...” you laughed in a carefree manner, only to have that laughter die down slow. Especially the moment you saw him enter the kitchen.

Liar liar! you knew your type, you thought.

Suddenly, you cleared your throat, “What about you? What’s your type?” You asked her in kind.

Kim may have started talking at that moment. She may be going on about her type in detail. But it seemed quite difficult to keep your eyes on her when he was around.

The tattoos inked in his chiseled body managed to get it’s spotlight with the help of his wife beater and jeans. Plus, the chained necklace that adorned his neck and the bracelet that accompanied his wrist completed his ensemble. As the bottle cap flew out of the chilled beer, Freddie Jackson closed the refrigerator door. And there you were, staring at him from across the room, unable to control the heat that emitted strongly from your cheeks. For a second you realized his eyes caught yours. Your eyes widened.

Were you dreaming?

“Y/N?” You felt the coke can slip from your grasp the moment Kim’s loud voice brought you back. Gasps exited out of both of you as the remaining soda from the can spilt all over your top.

“Ah! Uhhh....” Struggling. You were struggling with words, bending down to pick up the now-emptied can.

Where did that confident aura run off to?

“What happened? You okay?” Kim asked, catching Freddie’s attention. As you saw him walk towards the settee from the corner of your eye, you really did not know how to answer that.

You merely laughed, nervously, for you left to do nothing but. The cheeks grew warmer the moment Freddie stood by the settee.

“Kim, What’s wrong ?” He asked.

“Y/N spilled her coke...”

“Aww...that’s too fucking bad, love..let me get ya another” he said gently, looking at you before moving towards the fridge.

Kim smiled at him,“Thanks dad”

Forcing a tight smile, You exhaled silently yet deeply. For reality struck you again with a bitter reminder.

You were desiring for your best friend’s father.

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

You knew it. From the very first encounter a few weeks ago, it was sealed in your body, mind and soul.

If it weren’t for his heroic rescue that one night at dinner, you surely would have been responsible for the damage of several plates dropped out of your hands. But in your defense, the slightest touch against his body turned you in to the clumsy self you longed to hide away.

“Easy there love, wouldn’t want to get hurt now, yeah?” Completely and unexpectedly mute, you swore you have made a fool out of yourself. But given the expression, it seemed he was quite amused to meet his eldest daughter’s best friend.

Ever since then, forming a fascination for him was out of your control. It was unbelievable how he fathered three children, including one your own age.

Fascination did not last. For it turned into undeniable attraction as time passed. He was handsome, You couldn’t help it. In fact, he was the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. At least it seemed that way for you.

With eyes like those, he had perfected his gaze to be something unforgettable. With lips so beautiful, they managed to haunt you even in your dreams. So much so you’d long to feel them on yours. Yes, you were fantasizing about them.

Kissing him would be an instant response the moment you’d see him in the midst of your sleep. And when you do, you would even find yourself waking up feeling satisfied, yet hungrier at the same time.

There would be some nights so daring, your hand would go so far as to explore yourself with nothing but him in mind. It was that sinful, and you knew it. Sometimes that hand would retract, but sometimes it will not. Because honestly, nobody needed to know.

The number of times you found yourself involuntarily longing to see him , could be countless. Silly excuses to meet your best friend, things suddenly forgotten or left behind. Butterflies suddenly would exist in your stomach every time you set foot at her place.

But somehow, those butterflies suddenly evolve into small earth shattering quakes in the heart when you realized he was not there at times. But whenever he was, whenever he conversed with you in short, whenever he smiled, and shared jokes, or even took your side when Kim teases you, you felt attraction progress into complete infatuation.

In your defense, you felt he treated you differently. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if he knew your little secret. For those gazes would turn intense in a flash as if. That was when you knew, how far your feelings have gone.

All this was unrequited of course, you knew it was never a possibility. After all, he was Kim’s father. And this was a secret you could never share with her. And being her father meant something else as well. Kim’s mother, Jackie Jackson, always had been less welcoming towards you and you could never figure out why. But you could tell there was not much love between her and him. Even if there was, it was forced.

I could do better, you’d find yourself thinking.

I could love him better. And still you knew, this was never possible.

But even with the bitter truth staring right at you in the face, your desire for him grew stronger by the day. Which included the longing to win him over somehow. It was silent, secretive, and deadly.

Even when you dug deeper, and heard stories about him, you were not frightened easy. Even with the guns, the drugs, the women, the money, you did not flinch.He was indeed Freddie Jackson, the notorious gangster.

And you were still infatuated by him.

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

“Kim! Kim!!!!”

With no answer from the bell, you knocked on the door frantically. Another day, and another silly excuse.

Finally, you heard footsteps approaching the door. The pacing made your heart skip a beat. You knew those steps, you had it carved in your mind with such detail.

“Well Hello Y/N...” Freddie Jackson greeted you softly, flashing his naughty smile as he opened the door. Wearing a printed short sleeved shirt, he appeared to look more handsome than ever before. You felt your mouth turn dry.

“Uh Hi...” you began, “...Mr. Jackson ...” involuntarily smiling back, you suddenly were short of breath “is um..Kim at home?”

“Ah! yeah sure, come in. I’ll go fetch her”

The living room was filled with his scent, mixed with a hint of tobacco. It made you feel at home. The record player called out for you, begging you to admire it, and the music it played. The music soothed you. It aroused you. Pressing your thighs together, you gingerly proceeded to roll up the waistband of your pleated short skirt, making it shorter than it was before.

“Ah...sorry love but...” you jumped by the sound of Freddie’s voice from afar, “...it looks like the family is out” his voice echoed ,“...sorry about that” “Oh no...” you blurt out,”it’s alright” chuckling, you added, “I can wait...” As if by chance, there you were, alone with him. Finally.

“Brilliant...” he replied with a cheery tone. The desperation in you thrived, tempting you to roll up your skirt higher until the hem almost covered your buttocks. You knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment you heard him approach the living room, you turned back to the record player. “Wow...” you began, confidence taking center stage as you bent forward to examine the record player “..this sounds so familiar” The humid air caressed your inner thighs. You knew he stood there, quite noticeably as you heard him exhale deeply with a chuckle of satisfaction by the sight of your curiosity and ‘unintended’ exposure. With a gleeful gasp, your eyes widened.

“Pink Floyd?” You asked, turning to him the moment ‘Hey You’ began to play. “Yeah yeah...not bad, love” he chuckled, settling himself on the settee, “Pink Floyd man I am, you know”

“That’s great...I love them too” you said excitedly, clearly stemming from the discovery of a mutual interest. For a moment, he was not Freddie Jackson, your best friend’s father. For a moment he was Freddie Jackson, the man you longed to impress. The man you wished you could seduce.

But suddenly, you didn’t know what to say anymore. There never was a moment with just the two of you alone before. Freddie did not utter a word. Truthfully, he seemed more occupied watching you with complete fascination instead. The way he stared, thoughts may have racing wild. Still you felt powerless, you didn’t want to come off as boring.

“Tattoos!”You accidentally blurted out, making him raise his eyebrows, “Uh your tattoos...they are pretty wicked” you said, clearing your throat.

“Oh yeah?” He said, sitting upright, “You’ve seen them?”

“Well, only a bit..” you replied nonchalantly, hands tied behind your back, “not...all” with a hint of shyness, walking over to him.

Forming his mischievous grin, Freddie began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt buttons, while forming a whisper, “Fancy a closer look?-”

“Yeah!” You paused, surprised at your over enthusiasm. “Well...go on then...” he purred, gesturing you to come sit, patting his thigh as an invitation.

Normally, if any other older man would suggest this, you’d furrow you’re brows with disgust. But this was no ordinary man.

Carefully, as he sat back, you settled across his lap. With buttocks and upper thighs brushing against his lap , you were secretly gleeful. You held your breath, as he took your hand in his, guiding your fingers over his exposed chest. Pulling his vest down, he watched you observe the intricate ink imprinted on his skin.

This was a dream, you thought.

“Wow...it’s beautiful” you breathed, for it was true. “Yeah it is...” he said, his eyes washing all over you. “Rock n Roll...” he continued, resting his other hand on your bare thigh, “...tattoos...” he added, voice booming to send tremors through your body, “...bad boys certainly tickle your fancy, innit?”

“I suppose...that’s my type” you said, grasping courage to look at him. And his face was merely a few centimeters away. “Oh yeah?” He asked, leaning in. His nose brushing against yours. “Yeah...” you replied, feeling that familiar heat emit from your cheeks in contrast to the chill his rings provided to your bare thighs.

So so close, it was your deepest, darkest fantasy come to life. And you asked yourself, what would you do?

Before you could answer, you felt him move forward, permitting you to freely do the same as both of your lips found each other.

It was not a dream anymore, You really were kissing Freddie Jackson. With the intense weight of his lips, you could tell he hungered for this. He knew. He certainly knew. It excited you. It motivated you. Taking his hand from your thigh, you felt brave. With no hesitation, you placed it over your right breast.

Except he took it away in an instant.

Slightly alarmed, you continued kissing him, yet with concern in mind. Was he playing with you? But when you felt that hand hurriedly pull your sweatshirt out of your skirt, you knew all was well. When that hand dug inside to unhook your bra, it got much better. Especially when that clever hand slithered under the loose undergarment to palm your bare breast with ease, sending new waves of pleasure through you.

The way he savored it showed in his hums on your lips. And it drove you insane. You longed to hear more. Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, you pulled him closer, moaning into the kiss.

There were so many things you wanted to ask him. So many things you wanted to hear from him. But at the same time, the last thing you wanted to do, was to part your lips from his luscious ones.

It came as a surprise as his hand left your breast, taking a firm hold of your knee, spreading your legs wide open. He did not take this lightly, and it was confirmed the moment his fingers began to stroke you. All the way from your pubic area right downwards, over the thin material of your panties. His fingers tickled you, they aroused you. Lifting yourself up with impatience, your lips parted his just so he could pull your panties down until it bunched around your knees.

“Fuck...” he inhaled pleasingly, peeping down at the sight of your exposed womanhood, “Look how wet you are...” he said, looking back at you. You blushed, unable to contain yourself by his glance. But when you felt him insert two digits into your dampened slit, the blushing indeed seemed like child’s play.

Hungry for your lips once more, Freddie resumed kissing you. All the while his fingers continued to enter and exit out of you in steady rhythm. You may be moaning, you may have been wincing in response. But you did not fail to cling on to him as it was your dear life.

Few minutes have passed, and still his lips felt fresh on yours. The feeling of a climax felt close, you were almost there. However, you groaned in desperation when his fingers suddenly left your opening. Pulling away, you wanted to beg. But his words stopped you.

“Come on...” Freddie breathed, his face looking serious as he frantically unbuckled his pants. A loud gasp left you the moment his manhood sprung out free from all constrains of clothing. You always thought a man like him should be well endowed. And he was, indeed. Strong, firm and thick. With your eyes fully indulging it, you were reminded of your inner walls drenched with need. Clearly, you were impatient to feel him inside you.

Whimpers, soft whimpers overflowed your lips as you sunk into his erect shaft. But like a perfect piece of a puzzle, it fitted in so well. And like one perfect unit, you held on to him as you began to move. The pleasure was simply indescribable. It was unbelievable. It was better than you imagined. In your dreams. In your fantasies.

Overwhelmed with arousal, you were at a trance; Grabbing his hands, you guided them back inside your shirt, placing them over your bare breasts once again. For you wanted to give nothing but your all. No holding back.

Freddie growled, pinching and pulling your nipples in response before he kissed you again. This time with much fervor. Pain infused with pleasure in equal measure, you moved faster. Connected by lips and bodies, You moved and you moved. Until your body gave in, until he pulled himself out and release was finally met.

All so quietly, and discreetly. Just as this sudden but eventual union was.

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

(Few days later)

You may have been walking, taking strides across the pavement, but your head was off somewhere else.

As if a record was on repeat, you couldn’t help but relive that wonderful moment with him. Nothing else occupied your thoughts. Nothing except for this. So much that you wondered whether you had to attend confession. You longed for your body to remember every minute. Every minute Freddie Jackson claimed you his on that settee.

“You alright lass?”

You blinked. Your father’s voice brought you back to reality. For a moment you really did forget he was there, accompanying you over to the convenient store on his way to work.

“Yeah...I’m fine” you said, stopping by the shop. Of course you were. But it was a state of mind you dared not share. How could you?

“Alright...” your father began, “I’ll see you in the evening then...”

Your eyes automatically caught the sight of a familiar face a few feet away. It almost managed to distract you.

Clearing your throat, you smiled. “Yes dad”

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

Entering the store, you suddenly forgot what you needed to buy. For your breathing grew fast, for that face that was oh-so-familiar felt quite nearby.

Fixing your hair casually, you greeted the store clerk before strutting out. You heard footsteps behind you as you heading into the abandoned alleyway. And for the first time you were not afraid. Quite the opposite to be frank.

The sudden tug of your hand made you turn with a happy gasp as Freddie Jackson pushed you against the brick wall, kissing you with immense passion.

When he pinned your hands above your head, when his desperate hands roamed about to fondle your breasts generously; when they lastly moved lower to pull you up from your buttocks, you felt as if you were being rewarded. Rewarded for keeping this secret.

“Fucking hell Y/N...” Freddie breathed, “I missed you...”

You could not believe your ears. It was only a few days. You were in bliss. He was your infatuation, and here he was in full reciprocation. It was heavenly.

You smiled into his lips, “Me too Mr. Jackson...ah!“ you cried softly, as he gently nibbled your earlobe.

“Uh huh...wrong answer” he chuckled.

“Sorry...Freddie” you corrected yourself, giving a shy smile. Calling him by his first name seemed arousing enough. Giggles followed soon after as he kissed you once again. Escaping into pleasure in secret was the challenge, but you certainly enjoyed it.

“Wait...” You said, pulling him away. You swore you felt someone watch you.

“What is it?”

“Mmm...nothing I just...never mind” shaking your head, you casually pulled him back to you, never tired of his lips on yours. Moaning into the kiss, Freddie kept his gaze affixed on you.

“Tonight ...” he reminded.

“Can’t wait....” you consented.

Hands finally parting, you excitedly made your way out of the alleyway as Freddie headed to the opposite direction. Your head was up on the clouds, anything felt possible.

Till you felt a tug on your hand once again. You chuckled, throwing your head back as you turned back.

“Ah..again? Fred-”

Except you felt a lump in your throat, the moment you realized it was not Freddie.

But it was your father instead. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(The next morning)

“Right...later Jimmy!”

“Right Fred...” With a small wave to his cousin, Freddie started the engine and began driving.

Morning had dawned, and Freddie was out and about driving. Although he could not help but involuntarily furrow his brows. And he knew why. He just did not want to let it get to him.

Except the reason just passed him by in a flash.

Hitting the brakes with a screech, Freddie looked out from his window.

“Y/N!...” He called out to you, “What the f-“

Pausing in an instant. Standing in the bus stop, you suddenly looked up to find his car parked in front. Your eyes were red, not to mention your nose. You did not respond nor were you least surprised. Instead of bombarding you with questions, Freddie decided to take a different approach.

“Get in, I’ll drop you home...” he said, “Come on...” insisting with a soft tone, he waited until you finally did.

Even though you lived close by, the drive felt like eternity. Freddie could not comprehend your behavior, unable to read as you kept staring at the car window.

“Y/N...babe...” he uttered softly. Yet you did not respond. He felt helpless.

Distance did not lie, as the car finally arrived at the destination. He heard you take in a deep breath, with hands tightly clenching on your dress.

“Y/N...don’t fuck with me babe...what’s wrong?” The concern arose in Freddie’s voice. When finally he saw your turn your head towards him. Eyes almost watering, you smiled warmly: “I love you Freddie” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I love you Freddie”

You never thought those words would leave your lips before you kissed him so passionately. It was so spontaneous but it felt right. You weren’t embarrassed to the slightest to climb up and straddle him in the car. As a matter of fact, You wished there was nothing called public decency. You wished he’d take you then and there. You wished you could stay with him wrapped around him naked.

All because you loved him.

Pulling away, you finally moved back to your seat.

“Feeling better?” You heard him ask. Looking at him, you saw genuine concern filled in his eyes. Something you never saw before.

“Yeah...I am” you replied, aware of how swollen your lips have become. Giving his hand a tight squeeze, you smiled to your fullest.

“Bye Freddie...”

As you got out of his car, you just wished he knew what you really went through. With every kiss you kissed in there, you wished he knew of your demise that occurred yesterday. With every touch, you wished he sensed your pain. The pain you had to endure when forced to be dealt with by your father; the harsh reality, reminding you of the gravity of your situation. With your sudden confession of love, you wished he knew the choice you were given. You badly wished he could give you the answers. And save you like a white knight.

But you had no regrets. Not even one. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Few days later)

The chilly wind that exited out of the refrigerator cooled Freddie as he reached in to grab a beer. With the first gulp, his eyes caught the sight of his daughter. Sitting alone on the settee, she sipped on her coke. Closing the refrigerator door, he realized what was wrong here.

She sat there alone.

“Kim! Babe...what’s wrong?” He asked from across the room.

“Nothing Dad” Kim replied, head unturned, body unmoved as she stared down into the can. Freddie knew denial when he saw it. Especially with his daughter.

“Come on babe...” he said, setting the beer down on the pantry before walking up to her...”...don’t lie”

Sighing, Kim turned to him.

“I miss Y/N...”

“Yeah?” He asked, slumping down on the settee next to her, ”Well why isn’t she here then? Shall we give her a ring?”

To be quite honest, Freddie wanted to , for he did not see you for a few days.

Kim looked at him. “She’s gone, Dad”

His eyes widened slightly. “What? What do you mean?”

“She had to move ...”Kim replied, her tone growing sadder “...but why so suddenly? I don’t understand...It’s not fair” putting her head down, her tone grew softer. Freddie clicked his tongue.Suddenly those red eyes of yours, the silence you bore made complete sense.

“Awww c’mere...” he said, slowly pulling his daughter in to an embrace. “I miss her dad” he heard her mumble into his shirt. “I know you do, babe” he said. holding her tighter, hoping he could cover the little wound that involuntarily formed in his heart.

For it was evident that lustful Temptation had progressed into something more. But to the misfortune of two specific people, hope had slipped out of their hands.

With all that what happened, all Freddie wanted to say in return was one thing:

I miss her too. ———————————————————————

Check my MASTERLIST for more.

#tom hardy #freddie jackson #the take #freddie jackson x reader #freddie jackson one shot #freddie x reader #freddie jackson smut #freddie jackson fanfiction #the take fanfiction #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy fanfiction

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nicketynic · 5 years ago

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Don’t Let Go (2/2)

Part Two of the fic I wrote for @bellarkejanuaryjoy on Day 9.

This part disregards anomaly stuff and Abby’s passing in the finale. Contains (some) sexual content. I also freely admit I was drinking as I finished this, so it’s not proofed and the end may be more poetic and prosey than originally intended.

Caught up in the chaos once more, it was days before they next found a moment alone. In the golden light of a new dawn over Sanctum, Bellamy held his best friend...partner...soulmate, revelling in the return of the complete and utter relief that was having her safe and secure in his arms. Too haunted by her recent revival to have any conscious concern about being a hovery creep, he faithfully dogged at her heels for the rest of the day, her vigilant shadow as she made the rounds among their people.

It was only several hours after the sun dipped below the horizon that Clarke called it quits and they walked side by side to the quarters set aside for her.

At first, his intentions were only to see her to the door, determined to break himself out of this needy fixation and leave her be. But a growing sense of dread filled him the closer they drew to the threshold, Clarke herself hesitated as they came to the door.

He waited for a moment, then two, before softly inquiring, “Clarke, are you alright?”

She began to nod, but stopped herself, visibly struggling for what to say. She opened her mouth to start and stop a few time, growing more and more frustrated with each failure. Seeking his strength, she reached for his hand, Bellamy immediately entwining his fingers. She closed her eyes, breathing in deep, and he raised their joined hands to brush a kiss against her palm as some inkling of understanding finally dawned on him. “Clarke, it’s alright to ask for things you want. It doesn’t make you selfish and it doesn’t make you weak.”

Taking into another breath, steadily meeting his soft, adoring eyes, her sky-blue gaze was vulnerable but determined, “Bell, will you stay with me?”

There was really only one answer he could give.

---

Bellamy Blake was going to die. He was going to perish a very happy man, but perish he would nonetheless.

Shedding their boots and coats, the pair had settled together on the bed, shyness cast away as they wrapped themselves around one another. Lying quietly in the dark, it had not taken long to realize sleep wasn’t yet coming.

“You still awake?”

“Yeah.”

When she chose not to elaborate further, Bellamy tried again. “You okay?”

Clarke let out a low sound, a humorless sort of chuckle, and curtly shook her head. She bumped his chin from where her face was tucked against his neck, and brushed her lips apologetically against his jaw. “Honestly, Bell, I don’t even know if being in the realm of ‘okay’ is even possible anymore.”

“Fair enough.” Bellamy kissed her temple, nuzzling into her hair. She nestled closer. “I’m here if you wanna share what’s on your mind, though. Together, remember?”

She hummed thoughtfully, raising her head to look down at him. “You really meant that, didn’t you?” she murmured. “Together from now on, in everything?”

“Of course,” he avowed, as solemn an oath as he had ever made. Something passed through her gaze that he couldn’t quite read, but before he had time to decipher it further, Clarke had leaned down, cupped his chin, and guided his mouth to hers.

He groaned, pressed himself further into the warmth of her. Bellamy had found his new heaven, wet, hot, and sweet, drawing him in deeper and deeper until he could barely think, barely breathe, knowing only the taste of her. Realization clicked into place in his head, finally recognizing what he had seen in her eyes. Need. Need she was quickly awakening within him as well.

One kiss became two and three and a few dozen more. Clarke fisting the collar of his shirt, pulling him down on top of her as she lay back, slotting their hips together with her legs cinching around his waist. They kissed and kissed until his jaw began to ache and he felt his lips might bruise, bodies arching and grinding in an inseparable mix of fervor and friction specifically designed to be the death of him.

The pressure built and built with every arch, every thrust, every grind, only to reach an unfulfilled plateau of inaction every time. But despite the frustration, riding the edge was a delirious sort of pleasure, ony for an intrusive string of rationale to break through the haze of his ardor.

Even with the maturity of restraint that came with his late twenties, his control wasn’t invincible, and continuing on meant making a mess of the only pants he had in the city. Come morning, neither a walk of shame in those same soiled trousers or calling one of their friends to bring him a change of clothes sounded the least bit appealing, and he reluctantly broke their kiss.

A low whine of protest rose up in her throat as he withdrew, her head tilting up to chase his lips before her eyes fluttered open. Desire had rendered her gaze dark and hungry, pupils blown until only the slightest hints of blue were left, but Bellamy could still read the confusion there. Still, her hold on him tightened. “Bell, don’t stop,” she murmured throatily, rolling her hips up to meet his.

He groaned, clamping down on her hips to still them lest he end up embarrassing himself. “Princess, you keep that up, I’m not gonna last. I want this to be good for you, so you gotta let me loose.

“It is good,” Clarke reassured, pecking his mouth and giving him a soft smile. “Just...don’t let go, Bell. Don’t let me go.”

A lump of emotion rose up in his throat as the layers of meaning to her words settled in his mind. For the first time since their reunion after Praimfaya, he felt that he was finally seeing clearly. Every other move he had made had been a misstep- Octavia, Echo, Madi and that damned chip, Harper and Monty, Jordan, Murphy. Bellamy had made mistake after mistake, and it was beyond time he started making up for his blunders. Time to make up for the hurt, start to heal the wounds between him and Clarke and take his place again as a real partner at her side. Maybe after a thousand apologies and few knocks to his hard head, they could focus on together. And together, they would help Madi, do better with Jordan, untangle the mess with Murphy. One step at a time, side by side.

For now, exhausted and heartsore, he could at least do one thing for Clarke Griffin. He held her close, and he didn’t let go.

They reluctantly parted long enough to shed the rest of their clothes, but they were back together a moment later, skin to skin and body to body. Warm, calloused fingers slipped between them, between her thighs, testing and readying, an ardent groan escaping him as he found her wet and open. Strong arms cinched around her waist, keeping their bodies flush and his grip tight, he held her eyes as he carefully eased himself inside her. True to his word, not letting them part in the rise and fall, he braced his weight against the mattress beneath her, levering on his toes, and slowly began to move.

Clarke clung to him in turn, feeling every brush of his skin, every creak of the bed frame, every rustle of the sheets as they rocked together. Pleasure thrummed through her, tempting her to let her eyes flutter closed and lose herself in the rhythm and alchemy of their bodies intertwining. But still, she held his gaze, reading every ounce of love and trust and devotion he laid bare in his dark eyes, and together (together) they moved as one.

Together. Tomorrow, they would be partners again, side by side to fix their wrongs and those wrought by forces around them. But for tonight, they breathed and arched and kissed and loved, together, as lovers until golden dawn appeared once more over Sanctum, and the wheels of duty began to turn yet again.

#bellarke #bellarkejanuaryjoy #my fic #The 100 #nsfw?

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thevoidable · 5 years ago

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Small excerpts from my upcoming krbk fics

Aight, I’ve made a decision.

I have several Kiribaku fics (mostly AUs) that I’m working on, but my motivation has been on the down-low lately due to things going on in my personal life. SO, what I’m going to do is reveal a few small excerpts from each of them, and I’d be super grateful if y’all can take the time to quickly read them and let me know if you want me to finish them.

Any amount of hype for even just one of them will really boost my desire to get them written as well as see which ones are more anticipated, so please don’t be shy! I love hearing what people think! [FYI, a majority of the following will be from the first chapter of each fic. Also, none of these are posted on AO3 yet; they’re all WIPs.] Hands of Smoke and Fire (Fantasy AU, longfic) ‘The darkness snaked on for what felt like an eternity, but soon threads of a gentle, silver glow slithered into view, and Katsuki charged straight into a lakebed of moonlight. Dirt flew into the air as he skidded to a halt in front of stark silhouettes that towered over him and swayed in the cool breeze, the moon itself just barely peeking over the top to give the light that Katsuki needed. Having just come from the spire where the roaring flames had warmed the surrounding rock, his skin prickled with goosebumps from the night air’s chilly touch, and he wasn’t sure if it was a welcome change. He shivered, but it was a small price to pay for what lay ahead. Katsuki looked back and caught sight of the rest of the kids finally catching up, their eyebrows furrowed in exhaustion and their mouths open with heaving breaths. Katsuki wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so disappointed looking at them before. “Are you serious?” he scolded. “You’re out of breath from just that short of a run? Are you Barbarians or not?!” “You’re way…faster than us…” panted a boy who was currently resting his weight on his knees and looked like he was about to throw up. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that you should be that weak no matter what speed you’re going! If something chases you, you’re on your own.” Katsuki huffed, and he turned back in the direction of the forest, peering into its depths for any sign of movement. He saw nothing, and pushed back that slightest hint of relief. “Ugh, whatever. Catch your breath and then start walking. You’d better not slow me down, got it? You’re such a bunch of losers.” Blocking out the kids’ mumbled groans, Katsuki paced towards the edge of the forest and peeked down into the grass. Crickets and a few other insects he couldn’t name dotted the ground here and there, and then vanished just as quickly as he’d seen them as they fled from his invading feet. Many twigs and branches lay broken and mangled in front of him; he absentmindedly picked up a decently-sized one and swished it around in the air, enjoying the slight buzzing sound it left in its wake. However, a stick could only keep him entertained for so long. Too fed up with waiting for the others to regain some energy, he stomped back over to them and gave the stick a good thwack on the ground. He grinned at the way they yelped and jumped to attention. It was the same tactic his mom often used. “I’m not waiting around anymore. Get up and follow me,” he barked, not giving them a chance to reply as he began to march directly into the underbrush. With luck, they’d been startled into alertness, because they obviously weren’t paying attention prior. Katsuki wasn’t denying that the hunting grounds were dangerous; it was actually the reason he even wanted to go in the first place. So if these losers had their guards down, it wouldn’t be his fault if something snuck up on them while they had their damn heads in the clouds. They quickly followed into step with him, not wanting to be left behind. It’d be funny to see that, though. To watch them panic in the darkness alone. “So, where are we going?” one asked. He was looking over both his shoulders constantly as they passed each tree – yeah, Katsuki’s stick trick had definitely snapped him to his senses. “Wherever I want,” Katsuki replied, and while it was true that the idiots were here just to follow him, being out in the wilderness made him think a little on his own words. Out here, there were no rules or restrictions, no leaders or dictators. It was simply the quiet in the air, the crisp breeze slipping through each rustling leaf, the moon as their guiding light. He certainly could go wherever he wanted, and do whatever he wanted. Out here, he was his own leader, regardless of whether he had followers or not. This feeling… It stretched a smile across his face, lifted his head high, made him tread forward with that much more confidence. It was a feeling he couldn’t put a name to, but he liked it. It flooded his whole body, rushed to his head, pushed and shoved at his feet and begged him to keep going. Suddenly, the feeling was all around him, calling to him; it was out there and he wanted to find it. Badly. Out here, he had something he wanted to run to. So he ran.‘

--- Kiss of the Sea (Pirate + Merman AU, longfic) ‘At first, he wasn’t even aware he was awake. The weightlessness enveloped him like a bubble, suspending him in what he assumed was a dream-like state. Everything was quiet, save for the low hum in his ears of something slow shifting around him. But then he felt the feather-touches of...something...against his skin, twisting and moving and wrapping itself around his torso, but never squeezing. Something was underneath him as well, though it remained still, holding him in place...wherever he was. So, wait, where was wherever, exactly? Oh, right, he had eyes. He should probably open them. Before he even had time to focus on something solid, the amount of blue in front of him was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It was comforting, actually. The colour was relaxing, calm enough that it almost made him want to close his eyes again, but the thing underneath him was itchy and uncomfortable. Part of it was in front of his face, forcing him to go cross-eyed to see it. He could grab it with his hands and push himself up a little, and it was then that he could make out the brownish colour and criss-cross pattern - rope? Yeah, it was definitely rope. Okay, so that was two things figured out… Kind of. Twisting to look behind him, he wanted to address whatever was brushing against his body. The white folds of the shirt he was apparently wearing were unmistakable, and it was loose and just gently waving about in the current. It was kind of bothering, to be honest. Well, off with that, then. The rope gave him little space to move around, so removing the shirt wasn’t the easiest of tasks, but once it was off he shoved it through one of the holes and watched it float as if suspended by some invisible string. But, now that he thought about it, he wanted to be out there too - not really floating like the shirt, but...the endless expanse of blue below him beckoned him, and it got darker the further down it went. Up here, in the open and the light, he felt exposed, too close to...well, he wasn’t sure what he felt too close to. But something stirred deep in the back of his mind, whispering to him that he wasn’t supposed to be here. He tried shifting about again, trying to survey his surroundings some more. He could see blue for as far as his eyes could see, but he couldn’t swim out to it; he was stuck here. Wait. The rope. It surrounded him on all sides, almost clinging to him, and no amount of moving seemed to open up any points of exit. This was a net. And he was caught in it.’ ---

Initiating Sentience (Futuristic Robot AU, longfic) ‘At first there’s blackness. A consistent void of nothing sits in front of him while he waits for the tiny flickers of red static to turn blue, giving him access to the motors in his eyes. He can hear something though. Voices. Some kind of clicking he doesn’t recognize. Footsteps. Clanking metal. More voices. Pings sounding on and on in his head, alerting him that something isn’t right, that he’s not doing what he’s supposed to, that he’s being damaged, he’s screaming, crying out, needs to get away, needs to get back to-! His eyes open.

The pixels in his vision slowly shrink down until a grey floor comes into focus beneath his face. A yellow alert box also materializes in the corner; his breathing system is overworking itself and needs to slow down. He feels his whole body pulsing with energy – he should be able to move now. Blinking a few times to check his eyelids are moving fluidly, he moves his hands into view and pushes himself up to sit. There’s a slight tingle in his right shoulder, something had hit him – oh, there’s a metal table next to him. Then…did he fall? He recognizes nothing else in front of him… This is all new, shouldn’t he know where he is? This isn’t the first time he’s been activated, so why- >MEMORY FILES CORRUPTED “Oi, Metal-for-Brains, I’m over here.” His hearing sensors detect the voice coming from behind him, and he’s almost startled into falling back over. He turns around nonetheless, and he looks up to see a human standing over him with his arms crossed, and his expression doesn’t look happy. >INITIATING FACIAL RECOGNITION >SCANNING: >FACE NOT RECOGNIZED >FACE STORED INTO DATA BANK >NO PERSONAL INFORMATION AVAILABLE’ ---

Glass Box (Canon-verse, oneshot) ‘The incoherent rambling of Deku’s muttering was just as annoying as the ticking of a clock in an empty room, echoing a repetitive tune like a drum beat with no song, constant and so monotonous that it would drive anyone stir crazy from the desperation of trying to stop it being committed it to memory – and it was that very reason that Katsuki hated the seating plan from day one of U.A. He wasn’t just hearing Deku from across the room anymore, no; his voice was hovering right behind his ears like a fucking mosquito that wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how many times he tried to ignore the high-pitched buzzing. It was damn-near making him ready to snap. He didn’t even need to turn around to know that the little moron had his nose buried in his notebook, eyes staring so hard at the pages like he could burn holes through them. And all the while he was tapping his pencil on the desk in rhythm to the bullshit he was spewing out of his mouth. Every time Katsuki tried to think, to create even just one small space of solace for his thoughts to gather, Deku’s ever-present cacophony came barraging in like roadworks right outside his damn house. He could grip at the edges of his desk all he wanted, grip them until he broke his fucking knuckles, but he wouldn’t be able to shut the little nerd up without getting shit from Mr. Aizawa. Because Deku was muttering about their newest assignment. Which Katsuki also thought was bullshit, by the way – how the hell was this even supposed to help them become better heroes? “Cultivation of Inspiration” his ass. “Of course, feel free to be as creative as you like with this. There’s no right or wrong way to go about it.” “Then that could mean that anything goes and we won’t necessarily be graded on the subject so long as we present it well enough to-” At this point he was only half-listening to his teacher explain the basics, because the more he tried to focus on just Aizawa’s voice, the more it blended in with the hospital bed fucker behind him and he could no longer tell which were actual instructions and which was a useless cockroach he needed to crush beneath his foot. He wasn’t even sure if Mr. Aizawa had gone over why they were doing this. Only more reason to kick Deku’s ass for distracting him later. “However, due to the free-form nature of this assignment, your photographs will be looked over before you present them in front of the class to avoid any upset from students who may end up in them.” Katsuki felt the entire energy and gaze of the room shift to a couple seats behind him. “When you’ve finished thinking it over and you’re ready to start taking photos, head to Power Loader’s workshop. You’ll find all the cameras stored in there. Now, use up the rest of this time to brainstorm ideas. I want to sleep.”’

---

Where the Sky Meets the Sea (Half-bird AU, longfic) ‘His scuffed-up boots kicked up loose stones and pebbles as they shimmied towards the craggy rock face, toes bravely peeking over the edge to meet the swirling grey below as the debris fell within and vanished not a second later, never to be seen again. The air was cold and unforgiving, whistling and howling its monotonous song that slapped at his exposed skin like an ice-covered whip. Surging up with weighted chains came the ever-familiar sensation that wrapped completely around him and yanked, fighting to tip his body and pull him down. It sank through his skin, bled into his veins, ate away at his very core, and he loved every second of it. He let the anticipation fuel his adrenaline as a fire spread out at his sides, wind licking the bright orange tips to make them sway and ripple with excitement. This thrill that swallowed him whole hadn’t changed since the first time he stood here as a child, when his wings were no bigger than himself and the breeze barely lifted his feathers. So now, with sculpted muscles hidden beneath downy layers of black and confidence built from years’ worth of training and endurance, letting the ground tilt beneath his feet was as easy as breathing - the forces around him had no need to fight or beg. Slowly he felt his blood stop dead in its tracks as his weight ceased to exist for a fleeting moment, and then in a single rush he couldn’t have felt heavier. The cold, the wind, the emptiness below - he tucked his wings in close in preparation to pierce it with just his body alone. He plummeted. And there wasn’t a gale in existence that could wipe the wild grin from Katsuki’s face.’

--- Aaaaand there you have it! Those are all the previews I have for now - again, please let me know which ones you want to see most! Thank you!

#krbk #kiribaku #bakushima #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfic #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou

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smutfornerds · 6 years ago

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Hush Hush // Eowells x Reader

A/N: this combined a couple requests I have for Eowells!! Hope y’all enjoy, sorry it’s short compared to my lengthy wordy fics tbh.

—

Nothing made sense anymore. Was the sky still blue? Did birds still chirp, or were they speaking fluent Latin these days? Your world had been rocked when you watched Harrison stand from his wheelchair, and enter a hidden room inside Star Labs. Originally you’d followed Wells in attempt to ask him to dinner, but now that was the furthest thing from your mind. You’d crept as silently as you could around the corner and watched the wall he entered dissipate and reappear before your eyes. A few more steps down the hall and you stood where he’d just been. Slowly you pressed your ear to the door and you froze in your tracks, hearing the familiar crackling of lightening from inside. “Barry..?” You audibly whispered, which was a mistake.

Suddenly the wall fell from beneath your ear, and you collapsed to the floor in a brightly lit room you’d never been in before. Almost instantly the door closed again, and you looked around before your eyes landed on a bright yellow suit, with piercing glowing red eyes. “Just what do we have here?” He made sure his voice was contorted, but you would recognize that man anywhere. “How—you’re not—“ you shook your head staring at his legs, before standing to your own feet with a furrowed brow. “Harrison..?” A hand outreached to him toward his covered face, but before you could touch him he spun you around and cuffed you to the bottom of his apparently unneeded chair. “Wha- What are you.. why..?” You frantically tried to pull your arms free but it was no use.

Finally with a frustrated sigh, Harrison removed the mask and stared down at you. “I really wanted to have more fun with this but you make it so hard when you look so..” He paused to kneel to the same level, voice lowered and grainy. “Deliciously pitiful.” The way he spoke sent a chill through you. So many questions pegged your mind as you stared at him. “How are you walking?” Was the first to leave your lips. The man puffed a laugh. “Always could, what else?” He gave no explanation, rendering half your questions useless if that’s how he was going to respond. Finally you reached one that you knew he’d want to answer. “What’re you going to do to me now that I know?” For a split second his eyes crackle with electricity and a devilish grin parts his lips to show off his dimples. “Oh, what a question..” Wells drawls, slowly walking around behind you. You feel him lean over your shoulder and he takes in a deep breath letting the smells of your perfume linger in his senses before answering, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Whatever the hell I want to.” Shivering at the words you couldn’t stop the pooling between your thighs and the throaty sigh that floated past your lips.

In an impossible second he’d repositioned you, his hand wrapped around you to tightly cover your mouth. He turns your head to growl his words into your ear. “Keep quiet, or I’ll just have to gag you..” His hand lowers to your neck and he holds it there briefly, with the slightest amount of pressure applied as to not hurt you, but warn you. Any words you had were caught in your throat by his grip so you nodded hastily, aching to have his hands on you now. A low hum vibrates against your neck as his hand slowly caressed down your body. A shaky sigh fell from your lips with the feeling as his fingertips began just barely buzzing against the goosebumps on your skin. At the lack of sound Wells nodded. “Good girl..” he murmured against your hair, his words and breath tickling your ear and sending a rolling chill down your spine that made your hips twitch. Harrison welcomed the movement by slipping his fingers into your folds with a quickness. Knowing you would blow it if you didn’t gain some control you brought your bottom lip between your teeth to silence any noises that threatened escaping.

Seeing you fight against the pleasure he shot through you only added gasoline the fire, the power trip he’s experiencing only becoming stronger the more you react to him. Pressing them firmly to your clit he vibrated his fingers rapidly, making you gasp for air and tug at your chained wrists involuntarily. You closed your eyes tightly while your teeth surely bruised your lip more with each wave of ecstasy. Next to your ear the yellow-clad scientist groaned approvingly at the way your body shook for him. “Such a naughty thing, enjoying this oh so much..” His voice was raspy and outrageously dripping in lust. Hearing him taunt you made a small whimper escape past your tensed vocal chords. Once he heard it he let out an aggressive sigh, circling his fingers in relentless buzzing circles on your throbbing nub. He was testing you, wanting to give you no choice but to cry out and get punished for it. His tongue ran along his lips hungrily as he watched your mouth fall open. A string of small whines and gasps filled the small room and your legs shook from the merciless pleasing.

Eyes crackling again, the speedster instantly changed your arrangement and had you stripped and cuffed with your hands above your head. He hovered over you, naked himself and his eyes glowing bright scarlet down at your panting body. All you could do was watch as he positioned himself to enter you, but hesitated. Bringing his chiseled arms to rest on either side of you he leaned his face to be level with your own, a devious smile across his face. “Tell me you want it.” His words were low but his gaze was locked on your lust blown eyes. Without warning he began to vibrate himself against your dripping folds, forcing a small moan to hit his ears and prove him right. He clenched his jaw tightly and told you again. “Say it.” Wells growled, a hint of impatience lingering in his tone. Still you persisted and kept silent. After all, he’d told you to. Another low and guttural noise left him and he increased the vibrations and positioned the tip of himself to your clit. Another much louder moan left you now and you caved, back curving off the floor as you sighed heavily. “P-Please.. please, fuck me.. I-I’ll be a good girl I promise.” Every word came out as a breathy or whiny slur but the brunette drank in every one of them like nectar to a hummingbird.

His strong hands gripped at your thighs as he entered you, never ceasing the vibrations all the while and sending them to your core with ease. Again you gasped but finally Wells kept to his word. One hand flew up to your neck, his grip nowhere near tight enough to hurt you but just enough pressure to shock you into submission. Keeping his hold he stared down at you watching you draw your swollen lip into a bite to refrain from eliciting any more noises. At the sight of your reserve his thrusts became rougher, each one delivered faster than the last until his entire body was buzzing with movement. Before the noise even left your mouth he felt your vocal chords contract beneath his hand and tightened just slightly as you were about to release a loud whining cry. Without the ability to release the tension audibly it built up in you quickly, tightening and pulling at the ball of pressure forming in your abdomen. Hips beginning to buck upwards into Harrison’s he quickly forced them down with his other hand. “Don’t.” He growled through gritted teeth, his voice the same distorted tone it’d been when you first entered the room.

A strained whimper left you as your body began to quiver, legs twitching with every move the man would make, arms relentlessly tugging at your restraints. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer and by the looks of it he wouldn’t either. His previously glowing eyes had dimmed and fluttered closed, his hand moved from your neck to your side, nails scraping your skin ever so slightly. You released a shaky sigh and your back arched off the floor, pressing your body tightly to him finally bringing a low groan to bubble out of him. Within seconds he’d come undone, his entire body vibrating as he rode out his elevated high. Once his eyes met yours again you were done for, a slow and breathless string of moans trickling from your lips and into the thin air around you. Wells watched your face twist and brows furrow at the pleasure and euphoria.

Finally he pulled out of you when his body slowed to a stop. Another nanosecond as your slightly cut wrists were freed, clothes thrown haphazardly back on your body, and the daunting yellow inverted version of Barry’s suit adorned his body again but still no cowl, feeling unnecessary now. For a moment you simply stared off into nothingness, anything to avoid his eyes. That was impossible though when he kneeled before you and tilted your head with his forefinger. “Our little secret. Right?” He gave a very pointed look, but behind his eyes was no longer the spark of lightening, but a sort of softness. You nodded a bit before leaning forward to kiss him, something so simple and small but the gesture alone meant worlds to the imposter of a Wells before you. Bringing his hand to your shoulder he gently pushed back, a sad sort of smile on his lips. “Oh damn you..” before he could finish the thought he interrupted himself kissing you again. “What ever will I do with you?” His words tickled your lips and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners, and he caught it just briefly. Harrison clicks this tongue at you, shaking his head slowly with a playful smirk. “Naughty naughty thing..”

#harrison wells #eowells #eobard thawne #harribard eowells #the flash #eowells smut

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sp4c3-0ddity · 7 years ago

Note

HEY (41) "Damn auto-correct..." With Plance pls?

listen. man, dude, my friend. i know you like fluff and fun fluff is like your specialty but this fic turned into angst and for that i would like to apologize…but i hope you like it anyway??

canon-verse, ~4000 words, not proofread because i shouldn’t be awake now

warning for slight ableism??

Pidge couldn’t believe her luck, stranded on a huge,isolated asteroid with almost no gravitational field and no ships in sight.

(Though,of course, space was so empty that she naturally had to suffer the probabilityof getting stuck in it.)

Sheclung to a crevice on the asteroid’s surface with one hand and her feet, herhead still spinning from when the Red Lion expelled her into space. With theother hand, she fiddled with the comm in her armor, seeking a signal strongenough to contact someone - anyone- nearby, or at least within a few light-years of her position.

Stupid Lance, stupid so-called ‘valor’, stupid misguided attempt at being ‘heroic’,I’m going to kill him the next time I see him…

Pidgescowled when all she found with her comm was static, but it faltered the tickshe thought of Lance.

Quiznak, I hope he’s okay…

Herheart sank into her stomach, heavy with dread and worry. She tried to push itout of her mind - she had herself to fear for right now - but every time shereturned her attention to the task at hand, her thoughts drifted back to Lance.

We both would’vestood a better chance if I’d stayed with you, dammit.

Pidgechecked her biometrics with her armor’s systems, and when she found nothingamiss - her life support still at full capacity thanks to the wonder of tenthousand-year-old Altean technology - she sagged, resting her forehead againstthe asteroid.

Castle on the other side of a wormhole,Galra ship blocking communications, nothing to amplify a signal or detect onethat isn’twithin range…

Empty-handedand alone, Pidge searched again.

Afterwhat felt like vargas - after her stomach growled and her throat turned parchedand her eyes drooped with exhaustion and the air her life support recycled grewstale - she found something.

Staticcrackled, louder than any other instant, and Pidge straightened her backagainst the asteroid with a start.

“Hello?” Pidge said, her voice hoarse. “Isthere anyone there? Come in, this is—”

What if they’rean enemy?

Pidgeswallowed and said, “I’m stranded alone in the middle of an asteroid field without aship. You’re the first vessel I’ve been able to hail. Can you please rescue me?”

Thestatic quieted, and Pidge’s heartbeat echoed in her ears as sweatslid down her face. She pinched her eyes shut, preparing herself to hear thesignal go dead, until:

“Give us your approximate position, lana, and we’ll be there in doboshes.”

“Well…” Pidge scanned as much of hersurroundings as she could with her cuff, letting it view the stars as she sawthem, then sent them through the same signal. “Is that enough information?”

“Oh, it’s perfect, lana!” her savior said. “Hold on.”

Theconnection clicked off - her heart skipped a beat at the sudden silence - andPidge wondered, “Whatthe quiznak does lanamean?”

Pirates.

Theship that picked her up belonged to pirates.

Theycuffed Pidge’swrists behind her back before she could so much as thank them for their rescue,before she could take off her helmet and inhale the breathable air inside.

Atleast she could savor the gravity dragging her down when her knees hit thefloor.

“You didn’t tell us you’re a Paladin ofVoltron, lana,” a humanoid alien with one eye at thecenter of his forehead said. He crossed his arms and clicked his tongue in aneerily human expression of disappointment.

“This is why,” Pidge grumbled. She tried towrench her shoulder from the grip of the part-Galra pirate that held her down,but her only reaction was to squeeze her hard enough she could feel it throughher armor.

“Well, then to the brig you go!” announcedthe cyclops alien with an unfriendly smirk. “At least give us the next varga todecide your fate.” His single eye glinted while the other pirates jeered andhonked and crowed.

Pidgestared at him with wide eyes, fear churning in her stomach and making her heartthreaten to burst its way through her ribcage. “I—”

“Save your threats and promises, GreenPaladin,” the Galra pirate said. She grabbed her arm and tugged her upright,and without waiting for Pidge to find her footing, dragged her away from thecrew.

Theyconfiscated her armor and left her only with the insulated black suit she woreunderneath, though not before Pidge slid her bayard under the thin mattress inher tiny, square cell. She tried to keep a wrist cuff too, but the pirate thatcame to collect was smart enough to count the pieces.

Shewas relieved she had the foresight and the timeto hide the bayard in a different place.

Butmuch good it did her while she was locked in a cell.

Heroptions for escape lay heavily on her mind, but the prospects were thin. She’dseen so little of the ship - not even the bridge - since coming aboard, sounless she could talk a crew member into giving her a tour…

Shecould talk a crew member into giving her a tour!

(Sheavoided thinking that it was exactly the sort of thing Lance would do.)

Pidgecould scarcely believe how straightforward it was to convince the pirate thatbrought her meals to show her around the ship.

Theship’smain engineer was a woman with unseeing blind eyes, but she compensated for thedisability with long, bat-like ears that spun towards the slightest hint ofnoise. Tall and willowy with an easy smile, she was exactlythe type Lance would go for, Pidge observed.

(Sheignored the flare of jealousy that rose within her; now was not the time.)

Sheintroduced herself as Mara and grinned at Pidge. “You’re lucky it was Heli’s turn to cookyour first meal. If it had been my turn, you would’ve spent the next few vargaskneeling next to the toilet.”

Pidgenarrowed her eyes at the bowl of…some kind of stew, made from a starchypotato-like plant, a vegetable that looked and tastedas pungent as an onion, and a meat that she suspected was the alien equivalentof “mysterymeat”. “That’s a…relief to hear,” Pidge said.

Thistime when she spooned the bite into her mouth, she didn’tgrimace, though Mara wouldn’t have seen it either way.

Sheset aside her bowl after finishing only half of it, the scent emanating from itturning her stomach, and mused that she even preferred Coran’s cooking to this stew.

“Say,” Mara said, still lingering beyondher cell door, “are you really theGreen Paladin?”

“The one and only,” Pidge said withouthumor. “What gave it away?”

“The green armor, of course!” Mararetorted, chuckling.

Pidgeraised an eyebrow, unsure what she found funny…until she recalled that she was blind. Shefidgeted with the hem of her sleeve and muttered, “I guess it would’ve…”

“I did have a question, though,” Mara said.“Are those all the real Paladins in The Voltron Show?”

Pidgeturned her head so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. “What?”

“The Voltron Show.” Mara clasped her hands together,twiddling her thumbs. “I wondered if those were all of you or if they were justactors.”

Pidge’sjaw dropped, but she cleared her throat and wondered, “Why do you want to know?”

Marasmiled. “Iwas curious. I ama fan, by the way, and wanted to know if there would be more shows to lookforward to.”

Pidge,stunned, could only stutter, “Uh, w-well, Voltron has other things toworry about at the moment.” Like finding me…and Lance.

Herface fell, and she said, “Oh, then, maybe you could tell me moreabout everyone?”

“I…”

Pidgedecided to seize her chance.

Shesmirked - working to keep the smugness from her voice - and said, “I’dlove to tell you everything, but why don’t you give me a tour?”

Marashowed Pidge some of the inner workings of the ship - which she learned wasnamed Outlaw Heart. She gestured toevery bit and bob, every nook and cranny, with easy, pinpointing each by sound(or so Pidge assumed).

Sheobserved it all with curiosity, wondering where, exactly, her salvation lay.Sabotaging the mechanisms of the OutlawHeart and holding them hostage?

”You remind me of Hunk,” Pidge said whenMara clasped her hands together while explaining something.

“The Yellow Paladin?” Mara wrinkled hernose.

“He’s not really like he is in the show!”Pidge reassured her. “He’s actually a genius and“—she flinched when Mara hither forehead against a low air duct—”not nearlyas clumsy as you are.”

Abeat later she heard the offense Mara could take from her words, but before shecould stammer an apology, Mara grinned. “Oh, I knewI wouldn’tregret asking you!”

Hijackingthe ship for long enough to find an entity allied with Voltron and theCoalition?

”Tell me about Keith!”

“He’s grumpy and passionate and…” Pidgesighed and admitted, “He’s…not around so much anymore.”

Marafrowned. “Isthat not him in the show?”

Pidgelaughed. “That’sthe thing; Princess Allura actually played him in The Voltron Show.”

Or,perhaps, communicate with the Castle by sending a transmission from the Outlaw Heart’sbridge?

”What about the Blue Paladin? He seemsinteresting!”

“Every other fan has a crush on Shiro, butyou choose Lance?” Pidge rolled her eyes while she inspectedthe ship’s navigation and communication systems as covertly as she couldmanage. Any tick, someone else could walk in and catch taking advantage of theengineer’s blindness…

Maraheld her hands behind her back and said, “I never mentioned anything about a crush.”

“Really?” Pidge raised an eyebrow, barelylifting her attention from the comm station. Could she send a distress signalstrong enough it would reach the Castle? “Too bad, though. He would’ve loved tohear that.”

(Maybefrom anyone but her…)

“I’m sure,” Mara said doubtfully. “Are youready for the next part of the tour?”

“Oh, just a tick,” Pidge said.

Shereached for the comm, mentally running through the steps that would project adistress—

“Mara!” a new voice bellowed.

Pidgejumped backwards - and straight into the waiting arms of the part-Galra crewmember responsible for manhandling her.

“Oh, First Mate Yorik!” Mara said,straightening her posture. “I—”

“Let our prisoner onto the bridge?” The crew member - First Mate Yorik -picked Pidge up as easily as she would a pillow and threw her over hisshoulder.

Shescowled, lashing out with fists and kicks while anger made her clumsy andcareless about where they landed. But her blows proved ineffectual, the firstmate ignoring them as he leveled a furious gaze at Mara.

“Did you not see that she was trying tosend a signal to her allies?” First Mate Yorik demanded.

“I-I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t!” Yorik stormed outof the bridge, Pidge bouncing in his grip. “Why Captain Nubo took on a blind engineer…”

Pidgesmacked his back and glared at the ground, blood rushing to her head. But sheyelled, “Letme go, you bastard! Let me—”

Shegasped when Yorik jerked her around and dropped her unceremoniously onto thebunk in her cell. She pinched her eyes shut and clutched her head, onlydistantly hearing the cell door slamming shut as Yorik locked her in.

“I don’t know what you said to Mara toconvince her to let you out,” he growled, “but rest assured if anything like ithappens again, you’ll regret it.”

Pidgepeeked out from between her fingers in time to see him storm away. Then shesighed and lay down on the bunk to consider her next plan.

Thecyclops alien - who introduced himself as Captain Nubo - visited her within acouple vargas of Yorik “escorting” her back, standing just outsideher cell. “I would like to apologize for my first mate’s behavior,” he said. “I’mafraid he sees you as an enemy more than most aboard the Outlaw’s Heart.”

“I wonder why…” Pidge grumbled.

“Oh, it’s not what you think, lana,” Captain Nubo said, chuckling. “He’s nevermuch liked the legitimate side of the law, Galra or not, but his mother did,and, well…”

Pidgebit her lip and guessed, “She died in the war.”

CaptainNubo hummed, not quite validating her suspicion, then wondered, “Asidefrom that, are you enjoying your stay, lana?”

“It’s better than a five-star hotel,” Pidgereplied icily. “Theywould’vemade me keep the handcuffs.”

CaptainNubo laughed, a sound that burst out from deep within his belly, and said, “Oh,if we weren’t natural enemies I might’ve asked you to join my crew.”

Pidgenarrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“We know enough about Voltron to have anidea of your skills.” The captain curled his dark green goatee around a finger.“We find our tech in need of update, every…legitimate party far outstripping our capabilities.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Pidge asked.“Aren’t you worried I’ll exploit that?”

“Because you haven’t already tried?” Nuboshrugged and admitted, “Perhaps I’m hoping that you’ll abandon Voltron and joinus before this is done.”

“Not a chance,” Pidge said. She stood andpaced to the cell door and met his eyes with a glare. “Voltron needs me, and I—”Ineed them too.

Butshe wouldn’tconfess to that, not to a man intent on making himself her enemy.

“Very well,” Nubo said. “I’m sorry to hearthat, lana, but I suppose I should tell you what the crew and I have decided about your fate.”

“What?” Pidge snapped when he paused fortoo long. “Spit it out.”

“It’s simple, really. For now you remainhere.”

“What the quiznak do you mean by fornow?” Pidge demanded.

“Lana,you’rea valuable commodity on this side of the universe.” Nubo smiled. “On most sides of the universe, in fact.”

Pidgeignored the sweat dampening her palms and hoped that her shock didn’tshow on her face. “All right,” she said, somehow keeping her voice fromtrembling. “Explain.”

“My crew is divided, you see,” Nubo said. “Halfwish to ransom you to some fragment of the Galra Empire, and the other halfwould prefer to ransom you to Voltron. Each has their reasons for choosing whothey will, but neither option is desirable.”

Ransom me to Voltron…

“What about me?” Pidge said, wrapping hersweaty hands around the bars to her cell and standing on her toes. “Does myopinion matter?”

“What do you think?”

Herheart plummeted, a rock falling through the air from a great height. “I—”

“What benefits the Empire’s factions oreven what benefits Voltron can scarcely benefit my crew,” Nubo explained, hiscordial tone evaporating. “So you see what I must do? And until we decide, aprisoner you remain.”

Pidgestared at him, unable to formulate a proper response.

I could kill Lance…if he wasn’t someone’s prisoner too.

“What’s the matter, lana?” Nubo inquired, his single eye blinkingslowly. “You look like you wish to ask me something.”

Many somethings, Pidge thought, but aloud she said, “Whatdoes lana mean?”

Nubosmirked. “It’san affectionate name you would call a child.”

Theretort rose automatically to her lips, “I’m nota child, I’m—”

“A Paladin of Voltron,” Nubo conceded, “butdon’t you agree that it’s a childish thing to be stranded in space without aship or much means of communicating with your own allies?”

Pidgeblushed, averting her eyes out of embarrassment. “It wasn’t my fault,” she muttered. She curledher hands into fists as a tear rolled down her cheek.

They’llfind him first, she told herself.They have to.

“I will leave you to mourn your lot,”Captain Nubo said, “and I hope you won’t risk leaving your cell again.”

Ashis footsteps retreated down the hall, Pidge leaned against the wall. She sliddown, hugging her legs to her chest and pressing her forehead to her knees.

She’dattempt another escape soon, she promised, but first she’d cry.

Shewas ready the next time Mara opened her cell door to deliver her a meal.

Pidgeactivated her bayard.

Itmorphed into the grapple, so silently Mara’s bat-like ears didn’t pick up on it.

Pidgeswallowed her shame, heart pounding in anticipation, and stepped behind Mara,holding the blade to her throat.

“I’m reallysorry about this, Mara,” Pidge admitted, “but I have to get back to my team. They need me.”

Marastiffened, her ear twitching. “I understand, Green Paladin.”

“Then take me to the bridge again.”

“No.”

Pidge’seyes widened, her breath catching in shock. “What?”

“I admire your loyalty to your team,” Marasaid, “but you think you’re not the only one loyal to a crew?”

“I—”

“I don’t think you’ll kill me to make apoint,” Mara continued. “I have no doubt you’re capable if the situationdemands it, but I’m not Voltron’s enemy.”

“Y-you don’t know what I’d do!” Pidgeretorted, blood boiling with anger and her back rigid. “You don’t know what Idid to rescue my family, and you don’t know what I’d do for my team if theywere in the same danger!”

“I’m not your enemy—”

“You’re not,” Pidge conceded. She swallowedaround a sudden lump in her throat and blinked hot tears from her eyes and quiznak why wasn’t she done crying? “B-but one of myteammates is in danger and I have to go save him! What about that d-don’tyou understand?”

Marasagged. “I’msorry, Pidge,” she whispered, “but I can’t let you.”

Pidgeclosed her eyes. “You haveto, Mara. I need to see my team - all my family. I need—”She sniffed when she tasted salt on her lips. “I-I need to t-tell him I—” Shelowered her bayard and whispered, “It wasn’t his fault.”

Herbayard slipped out of her sweaty hand as she choked on her first sob.

Somethingwarm engulfed her, arms wrapped securely around her and rocking her back andforth while she cried.

Stop, shetold herself. Stop crying in front ofstrangers.

“I’ll talk to Captain Nubo,” Mara promised.“I’ll tell him you need to rescue your friend.”

Pidgebit her lip, struggling to get her sobs under control. She trembled, but Marastill held her.

“Tell me more about him,” she said, voicesoothing. “Which Paladin is he?”

“I-I don’t know anymore,” Pidge admittedwith a shaky laugh. She rubbed her itchy eyes and added, “But h-he’s more thanhe seems…”

“Captain Nubo wants you brought to thebridge.”

Pidgeopened her eyes. She’d been trying to sleep since Mara left, but between the promiseand her fear for Lance, she hadn’t managed more than a restless doze.

Soshe sat up and faced First Mate Yorik.

Heunlocked and opened her cell door with a creak of metal hinges. “Whatare you waiting for, Paladin?” he demanded when she just looked at him. “Thecaptain wishes to speak with you.”

Pidgeblinked, her brain sluggish and exhausted, but as she processed Yorik’swords her breath caught in her throat.

Hopereignited.

Pidgeshot to her feet and skipped to the door. She tried to slip past the firstmate, but he caught her arm and pulled her back.

“What’s your rush?” he asked, narrowing hiseyes.

“The sooner I return to my team, thesooner—”

“Nothing’s decided,” he reminded her. “AndI never said anythingabout your return.”

(Well,it was obvious where he stood…)

Pidgeglared at him but accepted his escort up to the bridge.

“What changed?” she demanded, her gazemeeting Captain Nubo’s. “Was it just what Mara said?”

CaptainNubo grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We are not so different, you and I, yourteam and my crew. And to hear the rumors, even one of yours is part-Galra.” Heblinked - or maybe winked; Pidge couldn’t quite tell when he only had one pairof eyelids - and said, “Or, if you wish to believe I was moved by yours tearsand had a crisis of conscious, I won’t stop you.

“So…how would you like to make a deal withus, lana?”

Herheart sank; of course it couldn’tbe so easy…

“That depends,” Pidge said, though a partof her desperately wanted to accept whatever deal he offered, if only it meantfinding Lance and the rest of her team safe. “What do you want?”

Nubosighed. “Perhapsyou can guess.”

“A…ransom? I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“All right.” To her amazement, he agreedeasily, but… “I will send a transmission telling we have the Green Paladin.”

“Wait, I need to reassure them that I’msafe and that this isn’t a trap, Captain,” Pidge said.

CaptainNubo considered her, frowning slightly. “They must pay your ransom before wedeliver you then.”

“Great!” Pidge grinned, her heart alreadypounding and the words she would say rushing through her head.

“In GAC.”

Pidgeslumped. “Wedon’t…the Coalition doesn’t deal in GAC.”

“Then I’m afraid—”

“Wait!” Pidge said before Nubo could domore than turn his back. She wrenched her arm from First Mate Yorik’s firm gripand stepped towards the captain at the comm station. “I-I can upgrade your ship’ssystems instead, and maybe even convince Princess Allura to give your crewamnesty - or, well, maybe convince her to try to convince the Coalition to giveyou amnesty because frankly I hatepolitics and I have no—”

Yorikcleared his throat, cutting her off.

Pidgesmiled sheepishly at the captain. “I can’t promise more than to talk to her.”

“Well, that is as much as Mara promised you…andif you do fix our systems that would be enough.”

“AfterI contact the Castle of Lions,” Pidge insisted.

“Very well.” Captain Nubo made quick work -quick enough that Pidge suspected he’d already prepared it - setting up atransmission. “I’m afraid it’ll be text-based correspondence in the Galrascript. Can you manage?”

Pidgebit her lip. It was scarcely ideal, but… “Fine,” she said. “They can translate it.”

UnderCaptain Nubo’ssingle watchful eye, Pidge composed her first message:

Allura, it’sPidge. I was captured by pirates and they want to make a trade. Ask me toverify.

Pidgetapped her foot, her hands sweating while she waited for a reply that camefaster than she dared to expect:

Pidge! Verify: what did you name the Galra droid youreprogrammed?

Pidgesighed, freed of a burden, as she wrote back:

I named him Rover. Allura, is everyonesafe? Do you know what happened to Lance?

Everyone is safe, Pidge. And we recoveredLance. He’snow recovering in a healing pod. The first thing he asked when we found him wasif we’d found you, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you once you return to us.

Pidgecovered her face in her hands and muffled a laugh, but not before irritationtook hold again when she remembered how, exactly, she and Lance got separated:

Good, because when he’s awake I’m going to kiss him.

Do you want me to tell him that if he wakesup before you get back?

Bloodrushed to her face when she reread the message she sent. “I—what—no—”She hurriedly corrected:

Wait no don’tI meant that I’m going to kill him! Damn auto-correct…

Herheart pounded wildly - quiznak, it neverbeat this fast even when she was in danger! - while she waited for Allura toreply again:

I asked Hunk what auto-correct is. He’s not convinced your statement was amistake.

Pidgelonged to return to her cell and bury her face in a pillow, where no one couldsee her red cheeks or hear her frustrated scream.

#plance #lidge #pidgance #flirtyrobot #i'm not sure how i feel about this one tbh #and hmm i feel like my fics are steadily growing more and more OCs #it's mostly the canon-verse ones though #AUs don't rely so much on OCs #voltron #reem writes fic #qna #elby9001

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