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liillyliilly · 3 months

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Mercedes-Benz

miya atsumu x reader words; 4467 synopsis; underground racing, she has a slight gambling habit, he drives a sleek black mercedes-benz

Evil incarnate. Satan spawn. Devil’s favorite drug dealer.

Then why was he so delicious?

“Well folks, what we have here today is a game truly unparalleled by any other.”

“Well, Iwaizumi Hajime, I think the level of competition we have here goes beyond just a game.”

“You’re right Miya Osamu, what we have here is a battle of man versus man.”

Miya Osamu burst into laughter, “Oh but Iwaizumi, it’s a battle between boy and woman.”

You didn’t appreciate them narrating your current state of undress. In all fairness, they were also commentating on Atsumu’s lack of fabric entrapments.

Yachi was too busy nursing her heart by downing all the orange juice the Miya’s had in their fridge. Kiyoko was duly scrolling through her phone outside, waiting for you to finish up so she could drive the three of you back to your dorm. Everyone else in the frat house was mad that Suna Rintarou had confiscated all phones before entry into the Inarizaki Phi Alpha mid-term party.

Because of the photos, they would have gotten. Oh, the images of moments they could have captured.

“Hit.” You dealt Atsumu another card from your deck. A seven of spades. Adding that to his nine of hearts, two of diamonds, and four of spades, he had busted. With one measly point above a perfect twenty-one.

He groaned, tugging on his hair and rocking back slightly. You two were sitting cross legged in front of each other, with less clothes on than should have been allowed at the moment.

“You’re such a cheater.”

“Nope. Always bet on the House for a reason ‘Tsumu. You have two options left, your sock or your underwear.”

He threw his sock at your face. You put it on his folded trousers, t-shirt, sweatshirt, other sock, and watch.

He had your top, pants, and one sock. This left you in a bra, underwear, and one sock.

“Listen, Atsumu, it’s in your best interest to not play another round. She still has a sock. You’re screwed. Point-wise, she even started with less clothing than you. Take the punishment.” Miya Osamu carefully advised his brother.

Iwaizumi just scoffed and passed another twenty-dollar bill to Matsukawa. “How’d you know that she would win?”

Matsukawa inhaled, his mango vape on its last leg, “She always beats him in these things, it's almost like she’s cursed him with what I like to call: Boobs Over Boners”

Atsumu shoves his leg back into his pants, and you shimmy back into your shirt. The party quickly dissipated after the two of you shook hands in agreement to end the game.

“I like your white bra better.” He stretched, sitting down on the hardwood floor had dulled his spine and made his back hurt.

“If you won you actually could’ve seen me in it again.”

“Don’t remind me of what I’m missing out on.”

Strip Blackjack was a creation you and he had invented two years ago, it had become an annual event to play it at each mid-term party, so far, you were leading in wins with four and he had one.

This time he had put seven minutes in heaven on the line, you put his brand new Mercedes-Benz on the line. You weren’t going to take his car from him, he would just become your chauffeur for the foreseeable future.

You told Yachi she could head back with Kiyoko, you had gotten a sweeter ride. Kiyoko rolled her eyes and put her hand on your arm. “Don’t wait up, I have some plans.”

“It’s already midnight, what more could you need to accomplish?”

“The fun’s only starting. I have five more hours of entertainment awaiting me.”

“When you get sick, I’ll have the medicine cabinet ready for you.” You hugged Kiyoko as she pulled Yachi away from a Health Science major who had been lurking around.

The Benz life was something you could get used to. A sleek black finish, rich leather, and seat warmers. Atsumu grabbed his water bottle before meeting you in the parking lot.

Leaning back on the front of the car, your back was supported by the hood of his Mercedes-Benz and your arms were slowly touching the curves and edges. Atsumu thought that the view of you and his car was going to put him into cardiac arrest.

Pressing the start engine button, Atsumu turned to you. “Where to first?”

“The highway. Let’s baptize this bad boy,” You leaned forward and slid your fingers over the textured glove department.

“I am not taking my car to whatever blood demon summoning ritual you have in mind.”

You faced him, noticing the volleyball keychain hanging from the rear-view mirror, “You’ve seriously never baptized a car?”

“My car is agnostic.”

“A car baptism is when you hit a little over 160 kilometers, or if you like 100 miles per hour.”

“Those are the same speed.”

“Miles is lower than kilometers, more likely to get you to agree that way.”

He nods, backing his car out of his spot. Neither of you had made a move to turn on music quite yet, preferring to just embrace the smooth transportation.

Several texts from Suna popped up on Asumu’s display on the dashboard. Atsumu kept his eyes on the road, while you had free reign to watch whatever was going to unfold.

You sexy mofo

Why arnt you flirting back babe

Atsumu you dick

Ohhhhhhhhhh

You're actually doing something with her huh

I know a good detailer

Cleans everything right up

Several eggplant emojis later, and you just shook your head in amusement. All Atsumu had to do was ask, and this scenario Suna was proposing could very well be real, but he’d never tried anything more than grinding with you at the clubs.

Minus all the times he had leaned in for a kiss, especially after acing an exam he thought he would fail. Or when he felt sore from volleyball. Or when he just wanted to get a taste of your lip gloss. The attraction was there, and you saw no reason for him to hold back. He held back anyway.

There was still time before you reached the highway, so you just sat pretty, soaking up his presence. He smells expensive. With a physical presence so demanding, you have to wonder why Atsumu and Osamu were received so differently by those around them.

Atsumu couldn’t stand just being there with you, if he got any more jittery then he fully believed his driving skills would be impeded, which only had worst-case scenarios. So he reaches below his information screen, grabbing the aux cord.

“What do you wanna listen to?” You took the cord and plugged your phone in, mentally crossing off songs you didn’t want him to know that you listened to.

“Whatever you want to listen to. I’m not picky with car music, that’s ‘Samu’s field.”

“Driver picks the music, that's the most unspoken but most important car rule known to man.” A recollection of all the times Kiyokyo lightly slapped your hand away from her Spotify search option on her mom mobile. And all the times Yachi discreetly changed your music back to hers when she was giving you a ride to the grocery store so you both could get more juice.

“Passenger Princess picks the music in my car.”

You could live with being his passenger princess. The silence was chopped up and boiled alive with your late-night playlist.

Atsumu taps his fingers on the steering wheel, signaling left to merge onto the highway.

It was practically empty, minus the usual car here and there. The best part of driving on the highway at night was the lights. Towering buildings with spotted office lights still on, colorful lights from bars and various other fast-food restaurants, and lights from airplanes in the sky. Tokyo at night was perfect.

Atsumu, Tokyo, and you, however, that was a trio made to be.

He sped up. Not quite hitting your desired speed, but enough to put a chill around the car that was slowly seeping in.

“I have an extra sweatshirt under the seat.” Atsumu tilts his head slightly, urging you to accept his offer. He prayed that you wouldn’t ask him just to turn up the heat in the car.

You reached down and took the sweater out of the cubby below the seat. It was straight fleece on the inside, but a smooth cotton blend on the exterior. It was also a sweatshirt that had embroidery on the cuffs. His family name was on the left, and what you could only assume was his jersey number on the right.

“Thanks, it’s soft.” You brought the collar up slightly to rub the side of your face on the fleece.

Atsumu was grateful for the lack of lighting in the interior of his car, hiding the way he knew a blush was spreading rapidly across his ears and face.

Clearing his throat, Atsumu questioned your plans for the night, “Besides my veto-ing the baptism, what else did you have in mind? You said to your friends you were going to be busy until at least five.”

You had two possible options in mind. Both of which would terrify Atsumu. You picked around his glove box for a moment, before grabbing a coin.

“Heads is option one. Tails is option two.”

“Aren’t I supposed to know the options?”

You reached over and put a finger to his lips, “Shush, my game my rules.”

You warmed the coin up in your palms, before tossing it slightly and then hitting it against the back of your hand. Atsumu kept his left hand on the wheel, letting his right lay on your armrest closest to him, invading your undefined bubble.

“Option one.”

“I didn’t even tell you what the coin faced.”

“I know, I chose option one.”

“There’s a drift competition I heard about from the Grapevine.”

Of course, it was from the Grapevine. The vaguely illegal social media site that all college students would die to get an invite to join. No one knew who ran the platform, just that one day, if you were lucky, you got a text with an assigned username and password key to join. Atsumu had decidedly not been cool enough to receive such a text yet.

You, however, were one of the first people to get onto the Grapevine.

You clarified for Atsumu, “I won’t put your baby through the ringer, I just heard the gambling’s good. Apparently all the people who said they’d be racing are either bringing an imported car or they have a super tricked-out home-cooked car.”

Atsumu would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested. He just hummed, pulling up his GPS, and you typed in the address.

It was half past one when you got there. Atsumu parked his car about half a mile away from the location you had input. You praised him, calling him smart to do his best to avoid damaging your escape car.

When you got into the abandoned car parking lot, and walked down to the basement level, you were surprised. Atsumu stayed close by, walking slightly to the right of you but staying behind you.

Bumping from speakers was all kinds of music.

A yellow 1997 Mazda RX-7 had J-Pop blaring, with a decently young guy tweaking wires under the hood. A red 2006 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution IX had Teriyaki Boyz’s “Tokyo Drift” playing, with various stripped-down women investigating the lights embedded in the wheels. There were several other cars similarly tricked out, each with their unique personality and appeal.

Atsumu pulled you back into him by your elbow, “This is insane.”

“It’s dope, that's what it is.” You scanned around for any kind of money being exchanged. “Winner, winner.”

You grabbed Atsumu’s hand, leading him to a turquoise-colored car.

“There’s my mischievous queen.” Oikawa looked you up and down, you just kicked your leg up and put your hands under your chin in an attempt to appear cutesy. “And then this stick in the mud.”

Atsumu just did a head nod to acknowledge Oikawa’s presence.

Oikawa was dressed in a white ribbed tank top and some lilac cargo pants. His Aoba Johsai medallion hung on a gold chain around his neck.

“I don’t suppose this perfectionist is gonna race. Bet he drives a Toyota Sienna.” Oikawa grazes your hip with his hand, trying to tug you over to him.

You can’t help but go over to Oikawa’s car. “2001 Nissan Silvia S15 Spec-S, my friend Ushijima helped me to change the colorway.”

“It’s gorgeous, just look at those LEDs,” You skimmed the attached lights around the door of the car, appreciating the overall look of the car, then investigating the smaller decals in the corners of the windows.

Inside Oikawa’s car were his over-the-shoulder seat belts embedded in the driver’s seat, a silver pack of something you couldn’t quite identify in the central console, and his phone lying on the passenger’s seat.

“Wanna go for a quick spin before it’s go time?” Oikawa flipped his keys around his finger, and a small diamond decoration caught the light from the various beamers around the car garage.

You looked back toward Atsumu, his eyes had narrowed.

“Nah, I’m happy just to do some gambling.” You wrapped an arm around Atsumu, holding onto his side. This was an effective enough deterrent for Oikawa.

“I see how it is, put your money on me though, some of these other drifters can barely keep their throttle going long enough for a good spin.”

“Noted. It was nice seeing you,” You waved, and Atsumu copied the wave, adding the repeated motion of bending his fingers at the knuckles, a teasing victory wave of sorts.

Oikawa and you knew each other through a mutual friendship in Iwaizumi, he was older than you by a few years, working on a graduate program in Argentina. He came back to Tokyo for the racing, only the racing. At least, that’s always what he told himself.

It would be a lie to say that Oikawa didn’t still love you. How can you not when you propose twice in one month, begging someone to come to a foreign country with you, telling them that you would take care of them, and they would never have to worry about anything? Just be with me and everything will be perfect.

You put a few bills on Oikawa, much to Atsumu’s chagrin.

The lineup was two cars at a time, going from the bottom floor up to the roof of the parking garage. There would be six brackets, for a total of twelve competing drifters.

If Oikawa did indeed win the whole thing, you stood to make a crisp four hundred dollars. If he placed in the top four, you got two hundred. Anything below the top four and you’d be out a flat hundred, all the money you skimmed off the bets from Strip Blackjack earlier this night.

People were lined up on either side of the starting point, you didn’t have the best vantage point seeing as all the tallest guys had already conglomerated to see the skidouts fail. Atsumu asked if you could see alright, and you just shrugged, it was an inconvenience but wouldn’t ruin the experience.

So he scouted for a better standing spot. “How’d you feel not watching the beginning of the race?”

In a moment, you two had jogged up the stairs, going to the roof. Only the various car techs were already up here, typing away on laptops.

The view was stunning. And had an ample vantage point. The car garage was scaffolded, so each floor going high was smaller than the layer below. The spiral going up to the finish line was readily viewable from where you and Atsumu were leaning against the concrete half-wall. You would get to see the final moments of the race, as well as see the billowing tire smoke from the levels below, various obstacles were on each floor. Barriers, iron gates, and pillars originally designed to guide cars to parking spots now functioned as ways to show off the iconic sideways slide of drifting.

Atsumu pulled out his phone when you were leaning over the half wall, inspecting the route the cars would have to take. It was just a few subtle pictures he told himself, of the way you were grinning wildly at the upcoming race, wearing his sweatshirt.

He couldn’t resist just sending one or two photos to Suna to humble brag.

Youre gonna kill her?

Push her off the ledge?

Im not gonna hide her body with you

Necrophilia is not hot

Youre such a douche you know that

Only for u my asian baby boy

she really is your type tho

Look at those legs, scrumptious

I will push you off a ledge

You think she would play strip blackjack with me? Without cards ofc just the stripping part

Blocking you rn

Ohhhhh noooo how will i survive without my precious

The roar of cars is louder than expected, Atsumu fumbles while trying to shove his phone back into his pocket. You just start giggling, lightly stomping your feet in excitement.

“Watch this!” A rapid twist from the yellow car as they continued to cut off what Atsumu recognized as Oikawa’s car.

The speed at which they were going shook Atsumu to the core. Each new drift circling a barrier to a straight path just intensified as they managed to go up each level in progressively intense challenges. Smoke billows from the tires against the pavement, flaring out the lights attached to the cars, creating what looked like a chalk bomb in the air full of color.

In a second, Oikawa spun out, cutting another corner and overtaking yellow. When he was sliding his way up the spiral, Atsumu had to admit to himself that what Oikawa had accomplished was pretty solid. Impressive even.

The rumbling and purring of the cars scratched a mental itch that you didn’t know you had. Like live animals, the cars came alive with each round. Despite the same route, new shortcuts and clean ‘barely made it’ moments richly colored each round.

It was exhilarating. For a moment you tried to imagine what it was like inside the car, the wind on your face, the jerking of your seatbelt while trying to move the steering wheel. It was golden material for a daydream just waiting to be utilized in your boring moments.

You made your full four hundred dollars, tucking it away in your bra when the coordinator passed you the cash wrapped in a rubber band.

Trying to fight a yawn, Atsumu ran a hand through his hair.

“Are you good to drive back to university?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

On the walk back to his car, you didn’t realize just how tired you were as well. You tripped on your foot. But he caught you, both hands holding your waist, lifting you up so just your toes were on the ground. You sheepishly smiled.

“What time is it?”

You checked your phone, but it was dead. “Mine’s outta juice.”

He checked his phone only for the result to be the same unfortunate situation.

Suddenly the lights on the streets were flickering, not fulfilling their role of being beacons of guidance back to Atsumu’s Mercedes.

A low hum approached the two of you from behind, “Not this guy again.” He mumbled. Atsumu was face to face with Oikawa again.

“Need a ride out the boonies?”

You looked at Atsumu, and despite sensing the potential for conflict, you decided it was more important to get back to the car than to worry about his ego.

“Yes please.”

“Hop in,” Oikawa held the door for you as you climbed into the sole back seat, Atsumu clambered into the passenger’s side.

He drove for around five minutes, but then after flashing his brights, you located the car. In a change of attitude, Oikawa gave Atsumu a smooth dap. “I can respect a man with a Benz like that.”

“Your car isn’t too bad either.”

“Oh no, mine's definitely better. But if I was placing a bet, I bet this is the car she likes better at the end of the day.” Oikawa threw a thumb in your direction as you were already at the car, wrapping your arms around yourself, teeth chattering.

Oikawa considered the possibility of rekindling something that had fizzled out. Then he remembered all the times you had talked about the little games you played with Atsumu, a light that shone on your face that never appeared when you were with him.

Argentina was home now. Could it truly be home without you though?

In a storm of dust, Oikawa drove off, leaving you and Atsumu sitting in his black car. He turned the heater up to maximum levels, easing your chill little by little.

The car clock showed the time being close to four in the morning.

“Still want to stay out until five?” Atsumu was back on the main road, he had found a piece of mint gum to chew to help him stay awake. He was grateful for all the flights across the country for volleyball matches that he was able to stay awake and cognizant even running on low sleep hours.

“I think I’m good actually.”

Atsumu was curious, so he asked what option two was. The other thing you had thought had the potential to burn through the night besides an underground drifting culture experience.

“Seven minutes in Atsumu’s Mercedes-Benz.”

“You tease.”

“True that.” Your phone finally reached a charge point where you could take it off the charger, hooking up Atsumu’s phone in place of yours. You started to stare out the window, glad that Atsumu didn’t care for music so you could let the meek hum of the car lull you away from consciousness.

“Genuinely, though, what other things could you have seen us doing tonight.”

You had fallen asleep within three minutes, curling into the back of the seat. Atsumu pulled over to the side of the road, reached over, and lowered the seat, so it was as close to flat as the car would allow. He took the emergency blanket from the trunk and wrapped it around you, tucking the blanket beneath you to secure it.

Once Atsumu got back to the university, he realized that he did not have either of your roommates' numbers. And your phone didn’t have facial recognition so he could just quickly call them while you were still asleep.

That was when he saw the note taped to the front of your housing unit. His name was written on the front in cursive lettering.

Hey Miya, we know you have our roommate with you. She’s probably asleep, and you never got our numbers. I, Kiyoko, am at a friend’s house, and Yachi sleeps like the dead so it is very unlikely that you’ll be able to put our sweet best friend back into her bed. Sorry for the inconvenience. We love her, but she never thinks more than three steps ahead at most. Touch her and you die. Sincerely, Shimizu Kiyoko.

Well, there’s that.

He makes his way back to the car. He can’t leave you asleep in the car. He can’t get you back to your room. So he does the next best thing, taking you back to his fraternity.

Transferring you from the car to the house was easy enough, he had called Suna to open the door while he brought you in.

“Osamu snores too much.” Suna supplied but agreed to not wake Osamu up and make him move back into his shared room with Atsumu.

With no deliberation, Atsumu put you on his bed, removing your shoes and putting them at the foot of his bed. He pulled his grey covers up and over your body. Your chest was rising and falling slowly. He sat on Osamu’s bed just watching you for a moment.

He couldn’t fight sleep forever though.

He woke up when the sun finally started to peek over the mountains in the distance. He would plan to take a nap later in the day, enjoying his Saturday to the fullest.

The notification on his phone did shock him for sure, his very own Grapevine account. Atsumu didn’t care much for social media, but he did enjoy knowing that he did something to warrant one of the rare invites.

It functioned the same as most other online communities, following options, posting options, etc. There was a main tab of events curated by whoever was behind Grapevine, he clicked on the official account. There he saw a picture of you and him at the drift event, when you had grabbed onto his arm and leaned into his side before the race started.

Ignoring the creepiness of getting this specific photo, he looked at the subtitle of the picture.

“Drifting’s Hottest New Couple, The Gamblers Who Love To Flirt With A Good Wager”

Who were they kidding, you were the one who actually made the money, Atsumu was just there to observe. But at least they had associated you with Atsumu instead of you and Oikawa. He considered this a win.

He turned off his phone.

You were stretching, shifting around the sheets, and you pulled your wad of cash out from your bra.

“Want gas money?” Waving the stack of twenty dollar bills, you kicked your feet slightly, shaking off your sleep.

“Nah, keep it. I lost Blackjack fair and square.”

Both of you were still lying in the beds, but facing each other.

“Want to stay in bed and watch this show I found?” Atsumu unplugged his laptop from the shared desk between the beds, clicking away.

After nodding, you sat up, and Atsumu crawled in next to you.

The intro music to the limited series drama started to play. It was raining outside, leaving raindrops racing on the window in the dorm room. There was some chatter outside the room, but together, you and Atsumu created your own space, undisturbed.

You think you love him.

Downstairs, in the shared fraternity kitchen, Suna was sipping coffee.

He was on his software program, checking for anything that needed to be fixed on his magnum opus, the Grapevine. He saw another request from a moderator on the platform, asking if Suna (under his pseudonym) would make an official post about another drift race.

Suna posted the details, swapped back into his personal account, and sent the link to Atsumu.

“No rest for the wicked.” Suna killed off the rest of his coffee, shoved his stuff into his backpack, and sent a text.

U got one more shot

Man, Oikawa owed Suna big time for this one.

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