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mrprettywhenhecries · 3 months ago

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worth the squeeze [s.h]

Two. Hey, Video Boy

↪︎ a Stranger Things/The Girl Next Door AU

Steve Harrington ✗ f!Reader

➺ w.c. 3.1k words ➺ tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, reader character uses she/her pronouns, sexual tension, reader is a vicious flirt ➺ a/n. I know it's been a while between updates, so thank you for your patience! Hopefully you're all still as excited about this fic as I am. A huge shout out to @batterycityghoul & @super-unpredictable98 for being my beta-readers and helping me pin down Steve's voice. I couldn’t do this without you guys. ➺ Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

Steve tells his friends about his lucky encounter the night before, only for you to show up at the video store to visit him at work and invite yourself over for a movie night afterwards.

[ masterlist]

“Dude, you never called me back last night!” Tommy exclaimed, leaning against the front counter as Steve checked in a stack of returned tapes, pausing between scanning each case to type something into the computer. “Did anything happen after she caught you watching her?” he asked, wearing his usual shit-eating grin.

“Wait, what? Who’re you talking about?” Robin asked from the terminal next to him, and Steve gave a start, realizing he’d forgotten to tell her about the girl next door, too distracted by the memory of the night before.

“Oh yeah, right,” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “There’s this girl that just moved in next door—well, she’s staying there while her aunt’s away—but, I uh, I accidentally saw her changing through the window—”

“Steve!” Robin interrupted with a disgusted groan while Tommy barked a laugh.

“Yeah, accidentally,” he snickered, making Robin roll her eyes.

“Alright, so then what happened?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest, sensing there was more to the story.

Steve leaned back against the counter, pitching his voice a little lower in case any customers were within earshot.

“So then, she showed up at my front door, acting like nothing happened, even though I know she saw me, but I took a chance and invited her in.”

“Oh, shit!” Tommy exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on his toes, his impish grin growing. “Did you bone her? Please tell me you boned her!”

Steve’s grin grew strained and he cleared his throat. “I mean, not exactly,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes darting away. “We went out to the pool and she told me it was only fair that I strip for her, since I got a show...”

“Oh my God,” Robin snorted, covering her smirk. “I like this girl already.”

“So, she got you naked and nothing happened?” Tommy scoffed in disbelief, throwing his hands in the air as he pushed back from the counter.

“We went skinny dipping and we… almost kissed," Steve muttered.

“You didn’t even kiss her? What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Tommy cried incredulously. “Sounds like she was practically begging for it and you choked. God, you’re such a pussy!”

“I didn’t choke!” Steve exclaimed defensively, his brows knitting together. “I just don’t want her to be just another notch in my bedpost,” he sighed.

“Well, I for one, am proud of your restraint,” Robin said, pointedly ignoring the obnoxious face Tommy made in response. “For once you’re not acting like a complete dingus.”

“Thanks Robin,” Steve murmured, pushing his hair from his eyes. “I promised her a real date, but I’m still trying to decide where to take her,” he mused, planting his hands on his hips.

Tommy snapped his fingers before pointing at Steve. “Tina’s party tomorrow night!” he exclaimed. “It’ll be perfect.”

Steve nodded slowly.

“That might be good actually,” he agreed, brightening at the idea.

“A party?” Robin scoffed. “You really want your first official date to be some shitty house party?” she asked, earning herself a sneer from Tommy.

“What, you jealous cause you didn’t get invited, Buckley?” he taunted, his grin turning ugly.

“No, those parties are just lame excuses for people to get wasted and rub up on each other so they can forget for a moment just how depressing their sad little lives are,” she countered with a scoff.

“Oh yeah, she’s jealous,” Tommy laughed, smacking his palm on the counter before pointing at Steve again. “I’ll see you there, buddy,” he said, bobbing his eyebrows before turning on his heel and heading for the door. “Can’t wait to meet this new babe of yours!”

As soon as Tommy was gone, Robin fixed Steve with an unimpressed stare. “Remind me again why you’re still friends with him?”

Steve glanced at the door ruefully before back at Robin. “We’ve been friends since elementary school,” he explained with a helpless shrug.

“Yeah well, he’s a dick.”

“You used to think that about me too, remember?” Steve reminded her, picking up the stack of tapes he’d just checked in and dropping them on a cart to re-shelve.

“Yeah, but you changed. He hasn’t,” Robin snorted, pushing the cart down the first aisle.

“Do you really think inviting her to Tina’s party is a bad idea?” Steve asked, looking down at the case in his hand before handing it to Robin.

“Cause I didn’t wanna come on too strong,” he said, gesturing with his hands as he searched for the right words to explain. “I dunno, I’ve just done the whole dinner and a movie thing so many times and they always end the same…”

Robin nodded. “I guess I see what you mean,” she agreed reluctantly. “But do you think taking her to a party is gunna end any differently?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.

The door opened with a chime and Robin recited the official Family Video greeting without looking up, but Steve froze when he realized who had just walked in.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, louder than he’d meant to, and you grinned as he stepped around Robin. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, wincing at how it sounded. “I mean, not that you can’t be here or anything! You just… surprised me,” he explained quickly, trying to lean nonchalantly against the shelf and missing, stumbling backward for a moment before righting himself, a disgruntled look on his face at his lack of coordination.

You had to bite your lip not to laugh, not wanting to bruise Steve’s ego further. “I’ve been going around town, getting some job applications, and I thought I’d stop by to say ‘hi’, if that’s okay,” you said, offering Steve a smile and he was quick to nod.

“Yeah, of course it’s okay, you can stop by anytime! I-it’s good to see you,” he exclaimed, wearing a dazed grin of his own that faltered when Robin cleared her throat next to him.

“Oh, uhm, this is my friend, Robin,” he said, gesturing to her before introducing you.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you chuckled, shaking Robin’s hand.

“Same,” she exclaimed, a wicked grin twisting her lips. “You musta made quite the impression on Steve here, because he has not shut up about you,” he said, turning her cheshire smile on Steve and your brows rose at the colour that rushed to his face.

“Really?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, finding his reaction adorably endearing.

Steve cleared his throat and shrugged, reaching back to rub sheepishly at his neck. “I might’ve mentioned something about you.”

“Uh huh,” you replied skeptically, your lips curling, but you didn’t push it. “So, are you doing anything later, video boy?” you asked, idly picking up one of the nearby VHS sleeves from the shelf to glance at before setting it back. “I know technically we haven’t gone on an official date yet, but I was wondering if you’d like to watch a movie together at your place tonight?”

Steve swallowed, trying desperately to keep his thoughts pure, and struggling.

“Yeah, sure,” he answered, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll even let you pick out the movie.”

“Oh, you’ll let me? How chivalrous of you,” you teased, ambling down the aisle with the new releases.

“Any genres to avoid?” you asked, your eyes flicking to Steve as he followed.

“Uh, not really,” he admitted. “Though, I prefer comedies.”

You nodded, thinking for a moment, letting your gaze scan the shelves before plucking out a tape. “How ‘bout Better Off Dead? Or have you seen that already?” you asked, half figuring he’d already seen most of the films there.

“Actually, I haven’t, but it sounds good,” Steve replied, peering over your shoulder at the box in your hand.

“You mean you work at a video store and you’re not some hardcore cinephile?” you asked with a smirk and Steve shrugged a shoulder, running a hand through his hair, pushing it to the side.

“Nah, not really.”

“He’s hopeless!” Robin called from across the store, her cart of returns nearly empty. “I was the only reason he got this job in the first place. This dingus knows next to nothing about movies,” she laughed, making your smirk grow.

“Well, maybe I can educate you then,” you said, turning back to Steve, finding him closer than you realized and your breath hitched.

“I like the sound of that,” he replied, tilting his head in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek.

“Good, I’ll see you at seven then, and I’ll bring the popcorn,” you said, wetting your lips as you lifted your chin, lingering in his space for a moment longer before slipping around him to head to the counter, turning back to him with a playful grin.

“You gunna check me out, video boy?” you teased, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before following, flashing you a wry look.

“I’ll put it on my account, employee discount,” Steve said as you passed him the case and he scanned the barcode on the back. “Just don’t forget to return it in two days. I’d hate to get hit with a late fee,” he joked, his eyes flicking up to yours playfully.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’ll be in here frequently, for one reason or another,” you said, taking the tape and waving to Robin. “See you later!” you called, returning your focus to Steve with a wink. “And I’ll see you later.”

As soon as you turned to leave, Robin joined Steve behind the counter.

“I definitely like her,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “You better not mess this up.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Steve breathed, finally tearing his gaze away from the door and letting his forehead fall to the counter.

It was only a few minutes past seven when you rang the Harringtons’ doorbell, finally having settled on an outfit after trying on and discarding several—wanting to be comfortable, but still look cute. Steve opened the door with a grin, sparing a moment to look you up and down before stepping aside and ushering you in.

“I brought some Jiffy Pop,” you said, handing him the little aluminum pan and heading for the kitchen.

“Perfect,” Steve replied, following you. “Can’t watch a movie without fresh popped popcorn,” he exclaimed, setting the pan on the burner and twisting the knob.

“Exactly,” you agreed, jumping up to sit on the counter nearby to wait for the burner to heat up, the little metal coil turning orange.

“So, where all did you get job applications for?” Steve asked, giving the foil pan a shake as several kernels popped inside.

“Oh geeze, all over,” you sighed, running through your list of stops. “The movie theater, the drug store, a couple gas stations, the book store, oh, and that insurance place on the corner; they’re looking for a secretary.”

The popping grew louder and the foil packet began to grow, soon doubling in size, puffing up into a large dome, steam escaping from the little hole at the top. Steve turned off the stove and pulled the popcorn off the burner, pouring it into a large tupperware bowl sitting on the counter.

“Wow, sounds like a bit of everything.”

“Yeah, right now I can’t exactly afford to be picky,” you murmured, stealing a piece of popcorn and popping it in your mouth.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Steve commiserated, handing you the bowl and opening the fridge to grab a couple cans of pop. “That’s pretty much how I ended up at the video store. Though I gotta say, it’s better than the last job I had slinging ice cream.”

“What was so bad about it?” you asked, following him out to the living room and plopping down on the sofa next to him. “Well, for one, the number of snot nosed brats I had to deal with on a daily basis,” he explained, holding up a finger, “and two, I had to wear this incredibly lame sailor outfit and I looked ridiculous,” he scoffed, adding a second finger before subconsciously running his hand through his hair.

“What?” you cried gleefully, trying to imagine what his little sailor uniform looked like. “I’m sorry, but that sounds adorable!”

“No, you don’t understand, it was awful! Did I mention there was a matching hat?” Steve exclaimed. “It totally messed with my best feature and made me super un-datable.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you countered, knowing you still would’ve given him a chance if he’d been dressed like that when you’d first seen him, instead of his green Family Video vest.

“I’m telling you,” Steve insisted, shaking his head. “Just ask Robin. She had this dumb whiteboard with a tally of all the times I struck out,” he added and you couldn’t help but laugh, warmed by the grin that curved his lips despite the unpleasant memory.

Your laughter died down and Steve reached for the remote, starting the movie.

“So, was the ice cream gig your first job?” you asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn as he cracked open his Coke for a sip.

“Mm, yeah,” he answered, swallowing and setting the can down. “Dad wanted to teach me a lesson,” he murmured, heaving a breath as his gaze lowered. “I used to be… kind of an asshole,” he admitted.

“Used to be?” you joked, smirking as Steve’s head snapped up and his mouth fell open.

“Hey!” he yelped, though the corners of his mouth twitched and you stuck your tongue out at him playfully.

“Just for that, no more popcorn for you!” he teased, yanking the bowl away from you and you let out a gasp, leaning across him to reach for it, your fingers straining.

“I take it back!” you laughed, your face warming when you realized you were practically draped across Steve’s lap, and by the pink flush that crept across his cheeks, you guessed he was quite aware of it as well, though he made no move to relent and if you stretched any farther, you’d tumble off the side of the couch.

“I dunno, I don’t think you’re all that sorry,” Steve mused, narrowing his eyes at you.

Biting back a smile, you pulled back, flashing him the most innocent face you could make. “I’ll be nice the rest of the night, promise,” you insisted, tracing an X over your heart and Steve cracked, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, but you’re on thin ice,” he warned with a grin, handing you back the bowl of popcorn.

On the tv screen, the previews had just ended and the opening credits began, punctuated by a scream as a little animated woman was kidnapped by a monster.

Settling in to watch the movie, you felt Steve shift next to you as if he wanted to move closer, but was gauging your reaction, not wanting to overstep. When you didn’t pull away, Steve’s eyes darted to you and he chewed his lip. Clearing his throat softly, he stretched, nonchalantly lowering his arm behind your head to rest against the back of the couch.

Smiling to yourself, you tucked your legs up under you and leaned into his side. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the pleased smile that crossed his face and you reached for some more popcorn, resting your head against his shoulder.

“So, uhm, there’s this party tomorrow night, and I was thinking we could go together,” Steve ventured casually, glancing over at you, his grin turning uncertain. “I mean, if you wanted. I know it’s not exactly a typical first date, but I thought, y’know, it might be fun, and I could introduce you to some people, since you don’t know anyone else in town–”

“Steve,” you said, interrupting his nervous ramble, amusement tinging your voice.

“Yeah?” he asked, cutting off, a hopeful look flickering across his face.

“I’d like that.”

Steve let out a long breath, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed he’d tensed.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re all flustered,” you teased and he frowned, his brows furrowing slightly.

“I wasn’t flustered,” he argued.

“Uh huh,” you hummed skeptically, studying his face, mapping every mole and committing their positions to memory before finding his eyes.

“I thought you said you were gunna be nice,” he murmured, wetting his lips as he leaned in.

“I did, didn’t I?” you breathed, your eyelids fluttering as you leaned in as well, your breath catching in anticipation, the movie playing on forgotten in the background.

However, when the front door opened with a bang, followed by a pair of loud voices, your heart leapt into your throat with a jolt and your eyes snapped open to see Steve jerk back, his head whipping around.

“Mom! Dad! You’re back–” he yelped, half rising from the couch and his parents finally seemed to notice the pair of you, straightening hastily, embarrassed they’d been caught mid-argument in front of a stranger.

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” he exclaimed, pausing the movie.

“There was a change of plans,” Mrs. Harrington said, a subtle terseness to her voice that you couldn’t help but notice, remembering what Steve had said about his parents’ precarious relationship. “We didn’t mean to interrupt, we weren’t aware you’d have company,” she added, eyeing you curiously and you got to your feet, rounding the couch to introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you both,” you said, shaking their hands once you’d given your name. “I’m staying with my aunt next door for a while, and Steve’s been sweet enough to show me around,” you explained, flashing him a smile.

Mr. Harrington seemed distracted, as if he had something else on his mind and couldn’t wait for the conversation to be over, while Mrs. Harrington nodded a little vapidly.

“It’s nice to meet you too, dear. Please, don’t let us interrupt,” she said, nodding to the television and your paused movie. “Bill, I need a drink,” she said, ambling out of the room and Mr. Harrington let out an audibly annoyed sigh, grumbling under his breath before picking up his suitcase and following her. Steve groaned softly, a grimace marring his expression. “I’m sorry about them… they weren’t supposed to be back yet,” he murmured ruefully.

“It’s okay,” you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, wanting to steer his mind away from his parents. “Let’s watch the rest of the movie, shall we?” you suggested, pulling him back to the couch, and getting comfortable again.

“Yeah, okay," Steve replied, letting himself be led. As he started up the tape again, he couldn’t help but grin, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Thanks,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours, a meaningful look passing between you.

“Any time.”

➺ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @santacarlahorrorshow @sailorskunk @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson

@thecreelhouse @melodymunson @corrodeddeadlydoll @stevesxyellowxsweater @destroya2005

@steviespookie @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @corrodeddeadlydoll @girlwiththerubyslippers

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #fic: worth the squeeze #joz.fic

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 years ago

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reader pronouns: she/her warnings: allusions to past trauma (no specific details)

”Might as well settle in,” Daryl drawled, dropping his pack and testing the stiffness of the dusty couch. “We ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til it’s light out tomorrow.”

You hummed your agreement and turned away from the boarded up window just as Daryl was flopping back. You gave him a surprised look. “Are you actually gonna sleep?” you asked him.

”Me? Hell no,” he growled. “But might as well be comfortable anyway.” He considered you for a moment. “You wanna sleep? I’ll get up. Ya can have this couch.”

You shook your head and sank down in an arm chair next to him. “No. I won’t be able to sleep...”

”Mmm,” he hummed. “Well—could be worse. Could just be one of us stuck here alone. Ain’t ya glad I didn’t let ya go by yerself?”

You smiled at him and he glanced over and met your eyes. “Yeah. I am.”

He nodded his agreement and settled in more deeply to the couch, one hand resting on his chest and the other tugging at the frayed edge of a patch on his pants. He could feel your eyes on him still and eventually met them again. “What?” he asked.

”Nothing,” you said.

Daryl rolled his eyes at you. “I know that look. It ain’t nothin’.”

You laughed lightly and his heart jumped at the sound. “Tell me something I don’t know about you,” you said, leaning forward. Daryl swung his legs off the couch and planted them on the floor, sitting up again and peering at you.

”Why?”

”Come on! It’ll help pass the time.”

He ran a hand back through his hair and sighed. “I dunno...”

”Sure you do,” you encouraged him. “I’ll tell you something about me after!”

For some reason this made Daryl smile and now your heart skipped a beat. God, you loved his smile. It was so rare. “ ‘M pretty sure I already know everythin’ about ya,” he quipped. “Ya talk a lot when yer drunk...”

"Excuse me! You’ve seen me drunk once,” you shot back. “I’m sure I didn’t talk that much.”

He laughed again. “ S’alrigh’. I didn’t mind,” he drawled.”

”Quit dodging the question, Daryl!”

He sighed again and shook his hair out of his eyes. “Mmm. Alrigh’, fine... uhh—” He chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. He gulped. This felt strangely intimate. “When I was a kid, we had this big tree in the front yard—the house, ya know, before the fire... and there was a storm that blew down a squirrel nest. Had three kits in it. The mom must’a died, so me and Merle—we hid ‘em in the garage and bottle fed ‘em kitten formula he shoplifted until they were big enough to be on their own. For the rest of the time we lived there, they’d come down and eat peanuts outta our hands, hang out on our shoulders...” When he hazarded a glance up at you again, your expression was so soft his whole body felt warm.

“That’s so sweet... That might literally be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said fondly. Your eyes seemed to be smiling at him.

“Yeah, it was—was nothin’. Wasn’t like I was just gonna let ‘em die, ya know?” You nodded, your eyes bright and fixed on him. He cleared his throat nervously. “Alrigh’, what ‘bout you?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you said, waving him off. “You already know everything about me,” you said sarcastically. “Tell you what; why don’t you tell me something about me that only you would know? Since you’re such a smartass...”

Daryl chuckled a little. “Fine.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck thoughtfully. “Ya used to be scared of motorcycles.”

”It’s not like that was hard to figure out!” you laughed.

”I ain’t done—Blueberries are yer favorite food. When ya were like ten, ya had to get stitches in yer right knee from a bicycle accident. Ya never learned how to swim—”

You were staring at him in surprise. “Okay, but all these are things I could have told anyone when I was drunk. I said tell me something only you would know.”

”Mmm,” he hummed. There was another long thoughtful pause before he spoke again and suddenly the room felt thick and heavy. “I dunno what exactly happened for this to be true but... ya dun trust men easy. I’ve—I’ve seen it. Even Rick, ya weren’t sure about at first. Ya saw the real Shane from a mile away...”

You gulped at the sudden tightness that had materialized in your throat. You thought you were better at hiding it. But of course Daryl would notice. Of course he would.

“‘S’part of why I feel so lucky I guess—that ya—that ya trust me.”

You nodded and managed to unlock yourself from your frozen state. “I do. I do trust you.”

“Good. ‘Cuz I would never, never do anythin’ to hurt ya. And if anybody else tries to—if anybody else does, well, I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Your fun little game to pass the time had suddenly turned wholly serious. You nodded. “I know.”

Daryl nodded again. “Good.”

You ducked his gaze, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at what he’d inferred from simply watching your behavior thoughtfully, but also from his protectiveness and his goodness. “I’m lucky to have you, Daryl. I mean that.”

He mumbled some vague response and flopped back down on the couch. “Oh, and yer slightly dyslexic.”

You laughed a little and sat back in your own chair. “You win.”

Prompt: “Tell me something about me that only you would know.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl fluff #protective!daryl

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emocxnteddie · 1 year ago

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!! Musicians Heart !!

Couple/Ship; Colby Brock x Male!Reader(He/Him pronouns used)

Genre; SFW

AU Where Reader Is A Punk Rock Musician.

Warnings; None.

Colby was looking at his phone, scrolling through instagram when he saw a familiar name, someone he'd known in high school. M/N L/N. He looked at the account, and noticed the pictures.

He was shocked to see that M/N was doing good, even better then Colby imagined. He saw that M/N had started a music career, which he was surprised to see.

He noticed he made music similiar to punk rock. Colby couldn't help but notice the videos and pictures of M/N on his instagram wearing quite attractive outfits, aswell as videos.

Colby quickly sent a friend request, his curiousity getting the better of him.

A few hours had passed, and Colby heard his phone go off with a notification. He looked at the phone, and noticed M/N had accepted his friend request, even sending him a message.

{Username} - Hey, you sent me a follow request, why? I mean you are way more popular on here then me.

{Colbybrock} - Well i just recognized you from high school, you M/N L/N right? I think we went to the same class.

{Username} - Huh, well yeah, i'm M/N, you also pursued a career in social media?

{Colbybrock} - Hahah, yeah, i did, hey maybe if your in LA sometime, we can catch up?

{Username} - I'm actually in LA for a concert i'm doing, perhaps we can take a drink at some cafe in town during the day?

{Colbybrock} - Sounds good! Tomorrow sound good at [insert Cafe name] around 12 pm?

{Username} - Yup, sounds great, see you tomorrow, Brock.

Colby looked at his phone, feeling himself smile. He had no idea why he was doing this, but it felt right to do it. He thought M/N looked so good in the pictures.

Colby decided to listen to some of M/N's songs, feeling himself love them. He enjoyed the way the lyrics worked together, and the beat of the music.

That night he fell asleep listening to M/N's music while thinking about the meetup he would have with him tomorrow during the afternoon.

The morning rolled around, and the time was 11:45 pm, Colby had arrived at the cafe that he and M/N had agreed to meetup. He was looking at his phone while waiting. Soon he heard the doors open to the cafe.

There stood M/N, wearing [Think of something Alt Style clothes you'd wear]. Colby smiled at M/N, and walked over to him. "Hey, M/N, It's Colby, we talked over insta yesterday!" Colby said awkardly.

M/N chuckled, and nodded, "I know, also great spot you picked out." M/N said, and Colby chuckled. "Thanks, i know it's a small cafe so not a lot of people go here, meaning we get more privacy from fans." Colby said, and sat down in a seat across M/N.

"Smart, i mean most people know i'm in town so it's good to see a place where i can get some stuff done in private without being bound to my hotel room." M/N said, and looked at the menu. Colby couldn't help but admire the way M/N looked, his [Hair style] was to die for, and his [Eye color] were beautiful.

Colby sighed, and looked at the menu he'd gotten. "So, how was life for you after high school?" Colby asked, and M/N looked at him. "It was alright, like a year after high school ended i began making songs." He answered, and Colby nodded. "That's cool, i began doing youtube with Sam, remember him?" he asked M/N, and he nodded. "Yeah, Sam Golbach, right?"

Colby laughed and nodded, "Yup, him and i are still best friends." Colby thought about Sam for a moment then looked at M/N, noticing they had made eyecontact. "Uhm-" Colby got tongue tied, and his face heated up.

M/N grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Cat got your tongue?" he said, teasing Colby.

Colby shook his head, and looked back down at the menu. "Nope.." he groaned, and sighed. M/N had noticed his reaction, which he found amusing. "It's cool if you think i'm hot, i mean i think you look good." M/N hummed, and decided what he would order.

"I'm gonna have a [Drink name] and a [Dessert], what about you?" M/N asked, and Colby became peachy pink on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, nervous.

"I'll have a black coffee and a cupcake." he said, and M/N looked at the waitress politely, "One black coffee, one [Drink name], a cupcake and a [Dessert]" M/N said, and the waitress nodded and walked to the kitchen to hand the order to the chefs.

"Did you mean what you said that you find me good-looking?" Colby asked, his voice shaky from embarrassment. M/N nodded and chuckled at Colby, "Yeah, I did." he said and smiled at Colby.

They had spent an hour talking and catching up in the cafe, and now they were walking back to M/N's hotel.

Once they got to the gate to the hotel, M/N looked at Colby and kissed his forehead. "It was nice catching up with you, Brock," he said, then left Colby dumbfounded outside the hotel.

Colby was shocked but happy. He giggled and took a deep breath. He knew he had to call up M/N some day, this was great catching up.

#colby brock #colby x male reader #colby #sam and colby #male reader #x reader #x male reader #male reader fluff #mlm #reader #colby x reader

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

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Thorn In My Side, Rose In My Hand (Part 4)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Under Age Drinking, and Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Everyone in her life is finally back on the island and she finally has her date with Wilson. But what happens when things don’t go to plan and she starts questioning her feelings.

A/N: This was way longer than I though it was going to end up being because it was honestly supposed to just be a filler chapter but I honeslty just couldn’t stop myself.

Masterlist

Y/N and Wilson had been texting for a week before he finally asked her on a date for tomorrow night. She isn’t sure what he has planned, but he said the dress code is formal so maybe they are going to a fancy dinner. Not exactly her favourite idea, she could live with it though. Lacey returned back to the Outer Banks yesterday, so Y/N is going over to her house to cook brunch together. Even though Y/N and Mason picked Lacey up from the airport, the girls need some quality time together. Well, Lacey would do most of the cooking while Y/N snacks under the guise of quality testing and making smoothies for them.

“I’m here,” Y/N sings as she waves the bag of smoothie mix she brought. Knocking is no longer in her vocabulary in regard to her best friend. “I missed you so much, Bitch! The men in Paris may be hot. But they got nothing on being with you,” Lacey screams as she blindsides Y/N with a hug. Y/N laughs and wraps her arms around the other girl, “I missed you too. But I literally saw you yesterday, babe.” “Yeah, but we spent so long a part for my month-long summer internship,” Lacey complains, “Let’s get cooking. Mama is hungry.”

Y/N moves toward the blender to begin mixing the smoothie blend. “So a little birdie told me that you and Rafe are actually starting to get along with each other,” Lacey teases her friend.

“Yeah… He’s been acting like a totally different person lately. The teasing is mostly just verbal and he can actually be helpful.”

“Awwww, Y/N/N. It sounds like you have a crush on him. Should I start planning a wedding?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Plus, I met someone last weekend.”

“Ohh, tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s sweet, funny, likes to read, he really likes doc-”

Lacey interrupts her, “I don’t want those details. Show me a picture.” Y/N giggles and pulls up a picture on her phone to show her friend. Lacey also notices how similar Rafe and Wilson are but bites her tongue.

“He’s totally cute, but he looks like he has a stick up his ass.”

“LACE! He does not! Although, he doesn’t use contractions and goes to sleep at like 11 P.M., but I promise he is funny.”

“Okay, but how is the sex?”

"We haven’t gone on a date yet. We have our first date planned for tomorrow night.”

Before the conversation could continue, the oven timer goes off and Lacey goes to take out the chocolate chip scones from the oven. “So what are the plans for tomorrow? Do you need help getting ready?” Y/N nods her head, “Yeah, could you help me curl my hair, please? He said to wear something fancy so I was thinking of wearing that black dress that I wore to my cousin’s wedding last year. You know the long one with a spaghetti strap kind of style.” “Ooh, you’d look so cute in that. I can definitely curl your hair. Maybe, I can braid it back like a little crown on your head,” Lacey gushes as she stirs the omelet in the pan. Y/N smiles at the girl and starts playing some music on her phone.

Brunch is finished quickly and the girls settle in the breakfast nook to eat. “So let’s get back to the topic of Rafe Cameron because we both know you haven’t told me everything, bitch,” Lacey bugs with a shove of Y/N’s shoulder with hers. The slight blush on Y/N’s cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by Lacey. “There isn’t much to say. I mean…” Y/N stops not wanting to admit what she felt last week after having lunch with Rafe, Mason, and Wilson. “Girl, you better continue or else I’m gonna make you cook for us next time,” Lacey warns as she knows where her friend is going. “Fine, last week, after I had lunch with the boys and Wilson, I thought maybe… Maybe Rafe and I were going to kiss.” Lacey beams with excitement at this revelation. “No way! What happened?” “Kie and I jumped into the pool to sink the guys and… when it was just Rafe and me, he teased me about always getting him wet. He took my hand and we got closer, but I got a text from Wilson before it went any further,” Y/N wouldn’t admit it but even she could hear the slight disappointment in her voice.

“You totally should’ve let him kiss you!”

“No, it was a mistake for us to even have gotten that close. He may be sweet today, but it doesn’t mean I can just forget about him being a jackass. Plus, he is Mace’s best friend. It would be awkward.”

“That’s true, but I’ve always thought there was something between you and Rafe. And I think if you guys really like each other, Mace will accept that and be happy for you.”

“Maybe. Let’s not talk about this anymore. I have a date with someone else tomorrow anyways.”

———

“So how many parties did you throw and drag your sister to, Mason?” Cassie questions while she sits in her newly claimed passenger seat. Mason groans, “I was only able to convince her to let me throw one and even that was cut short. Not that it was your fault Y/N/N.” Mr. And Mrs. Y/L/N didn’t mind their children throwing parties as long as the police didn’t show up, everyone had a designated driver and nothing was broken. They’d rather be realistic about their children’s activities and ensure they do it safely.

“Why? What happened?” Marvin looks up at his twins through the back mirror. “Owen was being an asshole when I went out to the gazebo. Rafe and Mace found me before anything serious could happen. Although I did punch him for insulting them, so I might need your help untangling that web.” Marvin shakes his head with a light chuckle, “Like that knucklehead’s lawyers can beat the Y/L/Ns. I swear that idiot’s parents were just as bad as he was when I was in high school.” “How was Bali?” Mason asks. “Amazing. You guys would love the beaches, we’ll have to go back with you guys sometime,” Cassie gushes to her children. “That’s a great idea, my love. Just, kids, remind me to put sunscreen on. I fell asleep on the first day when your mom was at pilates, I woke up three hours later as red as a lobster,” Marvin chimes in. This causes the whole car to laugh.

———

Y/N is getting ready for her date with Wilson. She does her makeup while Lacey lightly curls her hair and braids the front pieces back to create a crown. “Has he given you any hints about where you are going?” Lacey inquires, returning to sit in the bed after finishing Y/N’s hair. Y/N pauses with her makeup sponge in hand and turns towards her, “Nope. If it’s just dinner, it should be fine.”

“It’s basic though. You hate those types of dates. You need more excitement.”

“Yeah, but at least it’s not like dumpster diving.”

“I mean he could still do that. Maybe he just wanted it to be fancy.”

“Oh my god, could you imagine?”

Both girls fall into hysterics at the notion, which catches the attention of a certain boy passing by the open door. Rafe pauses as he walks past the door and upon hearing the laughter, stops. He wants to go inside to investigate the reason behind it. He quickly starts to walk again toward Mason’s room, “Where are Y/N and Lace going?” “Oh, they aren’t going anywhere. Lace is just helping Y/N/N get ready for a date with Wilson. Can you believe she actually wants to go out with him?” Mason states without so much as looking away from the video game he is playing. “A date? Really?!” “Yeah. Now, dude, hop in before I get creamed by these guys.” Rafe does as he is told but he could not stop thinking about what Mason said. Y/N has been on dates before, but something about Wilson screams bad news for Rafe. All of Y/N’s other dates were obviously not serious about her. They just liked the novelty of dating a Y/L/N and were not into dating men. Wilson seemed too serious at lunch to want to date around like the other boys Y/N has dated.

“I have to go, my dad wants to go to the country club for dinner. Bye, love you.” Rafe hears Lacey say from down the hall. The sound of her footsteps and the front door opening prompts him to say, “I actually forgot to get some snacks while I was downstairs. I’m going to go get some now.” “Okay, dude.”

Rafe makes his way to Y/N’s room and leans up against her door frame to watch as she looks at herself in the mirror. “Well, don’t you look like a disaster, Y/L/N,” Rafe teases. “Haha, very funny. But seriously. Does this dress look okay?” Y/N asks timidly. Rafe wanted to say that it doesn’t just so that she would take more time looking for something else to wear and miss the date, but the look of uncertainty on her face makes him forgo that tactic. He also wanted to be honest with her; the truth is the dress she wore wouldn’t be the dress he’d want to see her in if he took her on the date. “While you looked amazing in that dress at your cousin’s wedding, I think this dress would be much better,” he answers as he walks towards her clothes and takes out her long black dress with a column skirt and halter top. He had seen her wear it last year to her dad’s 45th birthday bash. Rafe remembers having some inappropriate thoughts about the dress for a family event. Y/N nods at the suggestion and goes to try the new dress on in the bathroom.

She comes out with a smile on her face and does a little twirl for him, “Rafe, this is perfect. Thank you!” She gives him a hug, which he returns. He was correct; she looks like an absolute vision and it kills him that he isn’t the one taking her on the date. That he was honest with her and now Wilson will get to see her in Rafe’s favourite dress for a date. Although, Rafe wouldn’t take her anywhere fancy on their first date. He knows it would make her nervous if he did, so he would take her to the bookstore first and buy any book she so much as glances at. Then he’d bring her over to his house to bake some cookies for their dessert after dinner, which would be a picnic on the beach at sunset. He would make sure to bring a sweater and an extra blanket for when the night breeze sent goosebumps up her arm. He has to shake himself out of his daydream before he stares too long, “No problem. Have fun on your date. Be safe and I’ll probably see you when you get back because I’m too lazy to go back home.” Rafe makes a quick exit back towards her brother’s room.

Y/N notices the upset look on his face and assumes it is because of the thought of his father being home, the most likely reason why he is sleeping at her house again for the fifth night in a row. At this point, he might as well just move into their guest bedroom. Everyone in the Outer Banks knew that Ward Cameron had a favourite child and her name was Sarah Cameron. This caused Rafe to constantly try to get Ward’s approval so he could feel the same paternal love his middle sibling got, but no matter what he did it still led to arguments between the father-son duo. It didn’t matter that Rafe had continuously dominated the breaststroke events in swimming, he still wasn’t good enough in the eyes of Ward Cameron. She would be wrong though; the reason why he is upset this time is the fact that she is going on a date. Before she knew it, a knock was at the door and she heard her father answer the door.

She walks towards the landing overlooking the front entrance. “Hello, I am Wilson Porter and I will be taking Y/N out on this fine evening. I hope you are in accordance with this idea, Mister …,” Wilson greets while holding out his hand for her father to shake. She realizes she still hasn’t told Wilson her last name yet. Her father takes Wilson’s hands and shakes it, “Hey, it’s Mr. Y/L/N. And I am fine with you taking her on a date as long as you have her home by one.” Y/N hopes Wilson doesn’t make the connection to her mom. Y/L/N is a common last name. “Of course, Mr. Y/L/N. punctuality is my specialty. Ah, there is the woman of the hour. She looks radiant.” Y/N is surprised she doesn’t blush at Wilson’s compliment; she could’ve sworn she was on fire when Rafe was raving about how she looked, “Thanks, Wilson. Are you ready to go?” “I absolutely am. Right, this way,” Wilson leads Y/N towards his car and goes to the driver's side. She thought he would open the door for her, but when he doesn’t, she quickly scrambles to get in so it isn’t awkward.

———

The car ride was filled with pleasant conversation. Wilson mostly talked about Cassie’s books, which doesn’t surprise Y/N considering she knows he wants to become a writer as well and some of her mother’s earlier works are his favourite books. They arrive at La Fleur Bleue, an expensive French restaurant. She isn’t thrilled to be here considering the portion sizes are so small. They enter the restaurant and are led to their table. They look at the menu, when Wilson speaks up, “Do you think I could order for us? I think I have you figured out and can pick you something you love.” “Sure, I’m not too sure what I want to get anyways.” “Great,” Wilson waves the waiter over to order, “Hello, we are both going to have the quiche loraine with a bottle of champagne, please.” The waiter nods, takes their menu and goes off to put their order into the kitchen. “How did you get them to not check our id?” Y/N is astounded at the strings he could pull or hopes she isn’t dating someone who is 21 without her knowing. “My dad is a silent partner here, so they generally look the other way as long as the restaurant isn’t busy,” Wilson explains.

At least, she knows he isn’t dating her for her money. While waiting for the food to come out, Wilson starts up the conversation again, “So have you had the chance to read The Wisp of Forever? Is it not a literary masterpiece? I mean hardly say this but Conan Austin’s work could rival Cassie’s”

“No, I haven’t had the chance yet because my tbr is so long. But also, it doesn’t really seem to be my type of book.”

“You should stop filling your time with Book’s Instagram and Young Adult Fiction. It’s all nonsense you will grow out of and look back on with disgust. The books I read help fill you with knowledge and enlightenment. They are also realistic.”

“Well, I like YA and Bookstagram. I actually enjoy the books I read from there. Also, it’s nice to read about people going through similar issues as me,” she says as nicely as she can. She is used to this response from most adults in the Outer Banks community, so she has the response memorized. Before Wilson could retort, the waiter comes back with their food and champagne on a tray. The first thing she notices is how tiny her quiche is. It definitely will not be enough food for her, but she doesn’t want to complain about it because of how expensive the food is. Even though her parents have generational wealth, Cassie and Marvin raised their children to be cautious of pricing and that just because they have the money now, doesn’t mean that it can’t disappear with one bad decision. She’ll just make grilled cheese when she gets home. As she eats, she notices she is shivering. The AC is on so high right now. With nothing to cover herself with, she tries to continue eating.

Dinner went and passed with pleasant conversations about themselves. “Would you guys like to look at the dessert menu?” The waiter offers after clearing their plates. Y/N is about to speak up, but Wilson beats her to it, “No, we actually have somewhere else to be, so just the check, please.” The waiter returns with a check and places it on the table between the pair. Wilson pushes the bill close to Y/N. She isn’t one to expect the man to pay for the first date every single time, but she thinks that whoever asks the person out and chooses what to do should pay for the date. Or at least split the bill. She doesn’t want to make a scene, so she pays the bill without a word. Maybe, he just wants to reverse the unfair expectations of men always paying, which she could get on board with. Wilson gets up in a hurry and makes his way toward the entrance, leaving Y/N to run after him. He opens the door for himself and walks through. This causes the door to shut in her face. Y/N awkwardly opens the door for herself and gets into Wilson’s car.

“So where are we going to now?” Y/N asks to break the silence. “We are going to a showing of Hamlet at Kildare Theatre. I hear it is an amazing performance.” Y/N is a little disappointed at the notion. She has nothing against Shakespeare and actually enjoys reading his comedies, but she finds watching the actually plays boring and can’t remember the last time she could stay awake through one of them. “Oh, cool. Sounds fun.” They arrive at the theatre house and settle down into their seats. As she watches the play, she has to gently pinch herself every time she nods off to keep herself awake. By the time the play finishes, Wilson takes her home and she gives him a peck goodbye before going inside.

———

She enters her home and looks at the grandfather clock in the front entrance to see it is 12 A.M. At this realization, she notices how her stomach grumbles. She goes to change into Rafe’s Led Zepplin shirt and comfy shorts. She puts her hair up into a messy bun then makes her way downstairs to make a grilled cheese. “Did you have fun on your date, Y/L/N?” she hears from behind her while she is turned toward the counter wall. She jumps out of surprise, “God, Rafe. We need to tie a bell around your neck. And to answer your question. Yes, I did have fun.” She lied because although he planned a pretty boring date, she didn’t mind Wilson’s company. Rafe is wearing his light gray zip-up swim sweater on top of his salmon t-shirt with basketball shorts. His hair is all messy, he probably just woke up. She wishes she could just reach up and run her fingers through his hair. “I smell lies. If you had a good time, then why are you here making a grilled cheese in the dead of the night?” Rafe points out. “Even if the portion sizes are small, I can still have fun on a date, Rafe,” She argues. “Whatever you say, Y/L/N,” Rafe comes over and takes the pan out of her hand, “Come on, let’s go to McDonald’s instead.”

He takes her hand and gently guides her to where he keeps his keys at the front entrance so he can pick them up. Once he has his keys, she opens the front door for them to head to his car. He jogs ahead and opens the passenger door for her. She whispers her thanks and takes the hand he offers her to help her get up into the high jeep. Wilson didn’t open the car door for her.

Most of the car ride was spent making fun of Mason and singing along to Rafe’s playlist. She notices most of the songs are her favourites. When they get to McDonald’s, Rafe is quick to help her out of the car and open the entrance door for her. She has to admit it is nice to not have a door slam in her face. They pick a seat near the back close to the window and Y/N tries to get up to go with Rafe to order, but he stops her, “I’ve got this, Y/L/N. Just stay here.” Y/N listens to what he says and watches as he orders the food. She’ll have to remember to pay him back on the way home. A few minutes later, he returns with the food, “Ten piece chicken nuggets with fries and Sprite for you. And a BigMac with fries and a coke for me. I’ll get our ice cream after we finish,” he recites as he places her food in front of her.

“Thanks, this is honestly exactly what I need.”

“No problem. Couldn't have you go hungry. So where did you guys go?”

“He took me to La Fleur Bleue, then we watched Hamlet at Kildare Theatre.”

Rafe chuckles at the look of slight disappointment he saw in her eyes, “I swear that place has the smallest portion sizes. It’s where Rose likes to eat when she wants to diet. However, you must’ve loved the play. You always looked so cozy taking those naps whenever we go to one for school.”

“Oh, it was so fun. I think I still have an imprint on my arm from every time I pinched my skin to wake myself up,” Y/N jokes back, showing him her arm to further the joke. The belly laugh that Rafe lets out causes heat to reach Y/N’s cheeks. She likes making him laugh like that. “I’m going to go get the ice cream now.” Rafe gets up and walks back to the counter to order. Y/N once again notices a chill overcome her tonight and sees how her arms are covered in goosebumps. She should’ve grabbed a sweater before she left.

Rafe makes his way back to Y/N, noticing the bumps on her arms. Either she always forgets to bring sweaters with her or she is stubborn enough to not wear one to not disturb her aesthetic. He places the ice cream on the table; quick to remove his sweater for her. He hands over the sweater to her without saying anything. How come Rafe noticed she was cold and Wilson didn’t? She takes it and shrugs it on, “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” Rafe watches as Y/N happily takes a bite out of the Oreo flurry he bought her, “Why don’t you eat any other flavours other than Oreo? Even when we get Dairy Queen, it is always an Oreo blizzard.” She is shocked he pays enough attention to her to notice it, “Oreos remind me of the one time when we were little that you, Mason and I would get along. Our moms would always bring us Oreos after soccer practice. It was the one time we could share without trying to kill each other. I loved the cookie part and you loved the filling, so I would always let you eat the filling from my Oreo and vice versa.”

Rafe is a tad saddened by the mention of his mother; however, the fact that one of her favourite ice cream flavours is in relation to a memory of him makes him glad. “I didn’t know you remembered that. I have to confess though, after like the second time of us doing that I was sick of eating just the cream filling. The only reason why I kept eating the filling is because you were always so sad about wasting the filling if you didn’t eat it,” he confesses. “No way! Rafe, you didn’t have to do that.” “It’s okay. It made me sick, but my mom would cuddle me after to make me feel better so it was a bonus.” At the mention of his mother again, a comfortable silence washes over the pair. If she was with Wilson, she’d probably feel the need to fill the silence in a way that would prove her intelligence. They finish eating and head back to the car.

“How should I pay you back? Do you want me to e-transfer you or I could get you the cash when we get back home?” She offers, pulling out her phone in preparation to make the transfer. “What? You don’t need to pay me back, Y/L/N. I asked you to come out with me, so I pay.” It looks like Y/N and Rafe are on the same page about who should pay when going out. Y/N begins to protest; however, Rafe speaks up again before she could, “I’m serious, Y/L/N. I won’t accept anything you try to give me, so don’t even try.” Y/N nods and looks out the window of the car. She turns up the car radio, beginning to sing along to the music. Rafe glances over at her and starts to sing with her. Much like their drive to McDonald’s, it is filled with laughter and music. Y/N can’t help but wonder why she can’t feel this way when she is with Wilson. She is dating Wilson and is supposed to hate Rafe, but why are they making it so hard to feel the right way about each one of them?

Taglist: @itsalexwin @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

#thorn in my side rose in my hand #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you

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bad268 · 1 year ago

Note

Liam lawson

but

I remember there one dtm video(red bull) being where alex and lily were in it and that was rlly cute

so hoow bout the reader coming to watch liam and they juts being cute throughout :)

Compilations (Liam Lawson X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (bruh I strayed so far but I think this is cute too. I rewatched all of the DTM videos and I was like *compilation*), (italics are clips from the video)

Warnings: Language haha

Pronouns: I/me/they/them

W.C. 3428

Summary: Liam and his significant other take a trip down memory lane for a video.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Google/RedBull Content Pool)

It was two in the morning. My phone should not be ringing. Rolling over and answering it without looking at the ID, “Well, someone better be dying.”

“I’m dying,” the voice, who I was able to recognize as Liam, laughed on the other end. “Okay, I’m not dying.”

“Could’ve had me fooled,” I mumbled, burying my face into my pillow while keeping the phone to my ear. “Not that I’m upset that you called, well kind of actually, but what do you want?”

“Oh, do you not want me to call you?” He teased back.

“I do just not at two in the fucking morning, Liam,” I complained, “Especially when I had an alarm set at three for my flight. I’m not going back to sleep now, so I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“I’ll keep you company,” He chuckled. “I was mainly calling because I wanted to make sure you were still coming this week.”

“You couldn’t have called me a couple of days ago?” I accused. I didn’t let him respond as I continued ranting, getting increasingly louder as I progressed. “Or yesterday? Or last night? Or fucking texted me because it is two in the morning?!”

“I mean, a reasonable time to call you would’ve been mid-day or something for me and I was doing car stuff,” He explained calmly, knowing that I was just moody because he woke me up too early. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I grumbled, immediately switching the call to a FaceTime. “There, if you’re going to make me stay awake, the least you could do is let me look at you.”

“Glad you find my looks good enough to keep you awake,” He joked.

“Anyways,” I switched topics as I propped my phone up against the headboard, so I could use my hands to hold my head up, “I know you did not just call me to ask if I was still coming. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to make sure because the Red Bull media team wants us to do a video for YouTube,” He explained as he moved on his end to a corner of the trailer after being given the go-ahead to chill out until they went back to the hotel.

“But I’m not a driver?” I asked, confused as to why they would want me in the video.

“Never said you were, love,” He chuckled again. “They want us to react to some videos.”

“That makes me nervous,” I replied with a nervous laugh. “Do I get to know what videos?”

“I don’t even know,” Liam started.

“You are not going to break him that easily, Y/n!” Alex cut in from the background. Just then, Alex‘s head appears in the corner of the frame with an enthusiastic wave, “Hi, by the way.”

“Hello, Alex,” I giggled, waving back, “Do you know what we’re doing?”

“Do I look like I’m in Red Bull? No,” He laughed in response. “But hey, I need to steal your boyfriend. We need to do a final debrief before heading back to the hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon,” I said, shaking my head at his nonsense. “Do I at least get a moment to say goodbye to my boyfriend?”

“Don’t keep him too long,” Alex says, leaving the frame and walking away, “The faster we do the debrief, the faster we go to sleep!”

“Huh, funny how you guys get to have uninterrupted sleep tonight, and I’m here bickering back and forth with my boyfriend and his teammate at two in the fucking morning!” I said sarcastically before dissolving into shouts toward the end.

“There’s no way it’s still two there,” Liam quipped back.

“Ah, you’re right,” I replied sarcastically after I checked the time before yelling, “It is three in the fucking morning now!” I stopped, taking a deep breath and calming down before saying, “I need to finish packing. I leave for my flight in a couple of hours, and I need to get ready and take a shower. I’ll text you before I take off, not call you because I value your beauty sleep. You need it.”

“Hey!” He objected. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I love you, and I’m hanging up now,” I smiled into the camera, pretending to not see his shocked expression.

“This isn’t over, but I’ll let you go,” He said while pointing at the camera. He put his finger down and just smiled at the camera, “I love you too, call me when you land please?”

“Of course,” I reassured, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Wait, today technically. I’ll be there by dinner.”

“Good, I’ll take you out,” He responded.

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a threat or an invite, and I’m not sure if I want to stick around to find out,” I joked quickly before saying bye and hanging up just as fast.

Landing in Italy was crazy because of the time change. Initially, I thought I would land in the late afternoon/early evening time frame but due to the difference, I was already getting to the hotel before lunch. Part of me just wanted to pass out from jet lag, but the other half wanted to go to the track to see Liam. Come to find out, they had free practice, so I wouldn’t even be able to see Liam until afterward anyway. Thus, I just decided to chill out, nap, and unpack a few things while I had nothing else to do.

At around two, I got a text from Liam, asking me to meet him in the lobby, so we could do the mysterious video.

“Do you know anything now?” I asked as soon as I sat in the car.

“Well, hello to you too,” he joked, waiting for me to greet him, and when I did, he continued. “No, all I know is they want you and me to do it.”

“That is definitely not suspicious at all,” I replied sarcastically before we pulled up to the track. We walked hand-in-hand to the AF Course trailer where we would be filming, and they already had the cameras and lights set for us. “Do we get to know what we are reacting to, now?”

“Yes,” one of them laughed. “Fans have been sending us these compilation videos of you two around the paddock, so you’re both going to watch it. Make it cute.”

“Oh, no pressure there,” Liam jested, taking a seat on the couch while I follow to sit beside him. They signaled that the cameras were rolling and that we could start the intro at any point. I decided to let Liam take the lead from the beginning since I wasn’t a driver and wasn’t social media trained. “Hi guys, welcome to the Youtube channel. Today, we brought in my significant other, Y/n, and we are going to react to the compilations you sent us.”

“Yeah, what he said,” I contributed quietly, causing him to laugh at my shyness.

It was the first race of the DTM season. Everyone’s nerves were through the roof, but it seemed like Liam’s were through the stratosphere. It was a new season, in a new car, and it was with a new teammate. It was safe to say that he needed all the support he could get, so I decided to surprise him.

With a little help from the crew, I was able to get an extra key to his hotel room and sneak in while he was doing media. I decided I would make myself comfortable, taking one of Liam’s shirts out of his suitcase and changing into it before pulling out my laptop to get some work done while I had the time.

I had my music playing, and I was in a groove, getting a huge chunk of my essay drafted. I took a little dance break when I spun around, and immediately started screaming, not expecting Liam or a camera to be in front of me. “Hey! There’s this new thing! It’s called knocking!”

“Didn't think I needed to knock for my own room,” Liam responded in shock. He slowly approached me as I caught my break before he wrapped an arm around my waist and grabbed my hand. “What are you doing here? You said you have an essay due.”

“Surprise?” I said while shrugging my shoulders, ”I have wifi here, so it’s fine.”

“Happily surprised, yes” He chucked back.

~ “I remember that,” Liam laughed as he paused the video. “I didn’t even realize you were wearing my shirt until just now.”

“Wait, actually?” I looked over at him in confusion. “I thought that was the first thing you noticed.”

“No, the first thing I noticed was my significant other singing and dancing in my hotel room,” He deadpanned before sarcastically adding, “Forgive me for not noticing what you were wearing.”

“Oh, what’s next?” I joked, “You gonna tell me that you didn't notice I cut my hair there either?”

“You cut your hair?” He asked genuinely, rewinding the video to see your hair.

“Oh, brother,” I rolled my eyes.

This was a bad idea. The worst actually. Why and how did I let Liam convince me to get in the car with him? I already hate seeing him race at these high speeds. I did not need to experience it, yet here we are. And he is fucking laughing.

“Stop laughing at my pain,” I shouted at him as we took the corner faster than I would have liked. My arm shot out to grab him out reflex as I begged him to slow down. “Liam, my love, apple of my eye, future husband, please slow the fuck down. I’m going to die.”

He just laughs in response, slowing down slightly, but not enough to make me let go of his arm. “If I slow down too much, I’ll get a penalty.”

“What do you mean a penalty?” I shouted at him, “There’s no fucking race!”

“That you know of,” he joked, slowing down even more so he could let go of the steering wheel momentarily to pry my hands off his arm. Once he gets them off his bicep, he just holds one of my hands in his. “Here, you can hold my hand, and I’ll go slower.”

“Not on my watch, mister. You put that hand right back on the steering wheel,” I protested, pulling my hand from his and pushing it toward the steering wheel. He kept laughing at my outbursts while glancing over at me from time to time. “Keep those hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, and get me back to the garage pronto.”

“Damn, so bossy,” he chuckled, proceeding carefully around the circuit, “Y’know, the fans are gonna love this.”

“Well, I’m glad they find my pain amusing,” I groaned, throwing my head back. Liam just laughed in response before I lifted my head, making eye contact with the camera on the dash, “You know what guys, just for my pain, I’m gonna need you to like and subscribe to the channel. Like this is horrifying. I will never do this again, so the least you can do is like and subscribe. Please.”

“Shameless promo, we love to see it.”

“And I never did it again,” I smiled at the camera. “I don’t trust him anymore, actually.”

“Hey, I got you back safely, right?” Liam asked, leaning into my side as he wrapped his arms around my waist and laid his head on my shoulder. I turned my head to nod and place a kiss on his forehead. “I haven’t pressured you to do it again either.”

“Maybe I’ll let you do it at the next race,” I whispered to him.

“Really?�� he perked up.

“Fuck no!” I exclaimed. “You scared me half to death last time. Why would I willing do it again?”

We were in the Hitech trailer with Juri, filming something for their Youtube channel. I was behind the camera just minding my own business while Liam and Juri were arguing, like always, about something I didn’t care to figure out.

“Y/n/n, tell him I’m right,” Liam complained, pulling my attention away from the book I was reading. I look up at them, seeing Juri shaking his head ‘no’ while Liam’s eyes are pleading with me to side with him.

“I think you two can settle this on your own,” I sighed, going back to my book.

“Aren’t you supposed to love me?” Liam groaned, sliding down the chair he was sitting in just to be dramatic. “How can you go against me like that?”

“You’re teammates. Work it out,” I pressed, pointing between the two.

“Alright everyone, it’s official,” Juri starts, looking straight into the camera, “Y/n and Liam are breaking up. Sorry guys.”

“Cool, I’m single now,” I jested, “I’m gonna call Oscar.”

“You better not!” Liam shouted running over to me, grabbing my phone and throwing it to the side.

“Way to go dumbass,” I grumbled, watching my phone shatter against the wall.

“I’ll buy you a new one, just don’t joke about that,” He whispered, pulling me into his chest.

“You know I would never leave you, definitely not with Oscar of all people,” I whispered back, playing with his hair. I decided to tease him even more, “You’ve got hotter friends.”

“Hey you’re messing it up,” He whined as he pulled away to fix his hair. “And I’m gonna pretend I didn't hear you just call my friends hot.”

“You’ll live. Now, finish filming because we are going to get a new phone today,” I said as I pushed him toward Juri.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded as he turned away from me, walking to Juri before turning back around to face me once Juri burst out laughing at my glare. “Wait, sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“It better not, Lawson.”

“No, not Lawson,” He whispered with a light chuckle, hanging his head to hide his smile.

“They resorted to your last name,” Juri wheezed but I didn’t hear either of them, “you’re in the doghouse.”

I wiped tears away from my eyes from how hard I was laughing, “You guys actually said that? I couldn’t even hear you!”

“Clearly the microphones did,” He laughed at my reaction. “Did you ever end up finishing that book?”

“I don’t think so,” I responded after a second of thinking. “I don’t even remember what book that was, to be honest. I was more focused on my shattered phone.”

“I said I was sorry!” He defended.

“Sorry doesn’t bring back my phone!” I retorted.

“I bought you a new one!”

“But my old one was red. This one is silver,” I complained with a pout.

“There’s a red case on it!”

“Doesn’t mean it’s the same.”

“You are unbelievable,” He rolled his eyes, jokingly before looking straight into the camera, “I can never win.”

“Nope,” I smiled as I popped the ‘p’ and moved to press play on the video, “Now, onto the next clip!”

Wet races always gave me anxiety, but they seemed to bring a lot of excitement among the drivers. Originally, it was only expected to rain lightly for the last couple of laps, but that was thrown out the window when the first drops started falling on lap 23 of 28 and the downpour began on lap 26. It felt and looked horrible, yet the stewards did not red-flag the race.

I couldn’t even watch the last laps. Last I checked, Liam was leading with Oscar right behind him, but the rain was making it difficult to see who was winning. It wasn’t until the team started cheering that I was able to let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Juri had an engine problem earlier in the race, so I knew that Liam finished the race safely.

Completely disregarding the torrential downpour, I ran out of the garage toward parc ferme where Liam had just parked his car and jumped out. I didn’t give him much of a chance to regain his surroundings before I jumped into his arms, hiding my face in his neck as I wrapped my legs around his torso and his arms held me close. I couldn’t stop the tears from collecting in my eyes, but no one could tell due to the rain.

“You did amazing, Liam,” I whispered after I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I thought you hated PDA,” he chuckled as he leaned his forehead against mine. “For once, I didn’t initiate this.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“That was our first public kiss,” I laughed, facing Liam who was still leaning on my shoulder. I leaned forward to place a light kiss on his lips then. “Now, I have no problem with kissing you in front of the cameras.”

“You were a lot more shy back then,” He pointed out, moving to kiss all around my face.

“You say that like it was so long ago. It was maybe a year or two ago,” I giggled, pulling away slightly.

“Actually, that clip was almost three years ago now,” one of the team members spoke up, making us remember that we were not alone.

“You’re kidding!” We both exclaimed.

“Wait, that actually makes sense,” Liam says after a moment of thought, “We’ve been together for almost four years now.”

“God, that makes me feel old,” I sighed.

“Old? We’re 21!”

“And your point?”

“You should be out celebrating your birthday,” I cried into Liam’s chest as we laid in his hotel bed. Liam had to travel to the Red Bull factory during the off-season for simulator work, and he brought me with him since it was over his birthday weekend. However, a bug had been going around the factory, and I was its latest victim. So much for celebrating his 21st. “You don’t need to take care of me.”

“What if I want to?” He comforted me, rubbing up and down my back in an attempt to calm me down. “Spending the day cuddling with you in bed doesn’t seem too bad.”

“But you’ll get sick,” I complained. “Then Christian will get made cuz you can’t do the simulator, and you’ll be upset cuz you’re a baby when you’re sick-”

“I am not,” He cut me off, offended.

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not,” I replied quickly before realizing what he did and immediately backtracked. “No, you can’t do that. My brain is running at 900 ping right now.”

“Nope, you admitted I’m not a baby when I’m sick. Which I’m not,” He pointed out as he pulled back a little to check my fever, feeling no change since the last time he checked. “Why don’t we just chill out and watch a movie?”

“That sounds fun,” I mumbled, moving around to get comfy again as Liam laid back on the pillows. “But you pick the movie, birthday boy.”

“Oh, I was already planning on it,” He chuckled, smoothing out my hair that was all over the place. “I don’t think you’ll last 30 minutes.”

“That’s offensive,” I pouted, burying my face in his chest. I was going to complain more before a yawn cut me off, “Ok, you might be right.”

“Of course I am,” He joked lightly. My eyes were already shutting when he looked down at me, kissing my forehead one last time and pulling me in tighter as I fell asleep. “Sleep well, my love.”

“I didn’t even know this was recorded,” I said, eyeing the team that stood behind the camera. Conveniently, none of them made eye contact with me. “Huh, wonder how that happened.”

“You have to admit, we’re pretty cute though,” Liam chuckled.

“I wasn’t saying we weren’t,” I argued back. “We are always cute. I mean have you seen us?”

“I think this is a good place to end the video,” He laughed. “This has been my significant other and I reacting to compilations of us.”

“If you want to see more of me, like, comment, and subscribe,” I plugged. Liam and the crew started laughing as I once again promoted the channel. “Maybe I’ll come back for a part two of this.”

“That would be interesting,” Liam said, pointing at the camera. “Anyways, see you next time!”

“Bye!” We said in sync as we waved to the camera.

~~~~~

#liam lawson x reader #liam lawson #formula 2 #formula 1 #f1 #f2 #formula 3 #f3 #hitech grand prix #liam x reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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a-kaash-me-outside · 2 years ago

Text

not fair - ch5

in which your boyfriend is perfect in every single way... except for one and kei can't just sit back and watch you suffer...

previous | ch5 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// "don’t question me again or i’ll leave." ~ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʏᴀᴍᴀɢᴜᴄʜɪ ᴛᴀᴅᴀsʜɪ ~ 8656 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter/tw: 18+ minors dni super nfsw!, cheating (seriously, major plot point), threesome, vouyerism, size kink, weird feelings, use of character first names, degradation, oral f!receive, dom/sub undertones, coming untouched, stop light system, dirty talk, name calling, coming twice, plot-heavy, pegging, cross posted from ao3, afab reader she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ (one more chapter left?!?!?!) ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

It’s one of those phone calls that you hope goes to voicemail.

Hey, Tadashi, just wanted to let you know that Kei and I were coming to get the car and boxes tomorrow. Sorry it’s been there for so long. That’s all it had to be. You’re repeating it in your head, waiting for the polite message and tone to come.

It doesn’t.

You don’t remember what Tadashi says when he answers the phone, don’t even know if he said anything at all. You pull the phone away from your ear, making sure that he didn’t answer and hang up or that the space between the rings isn’t just skipping. The numbers are counting up, seemingly slower than seconds typically pass by.

“Hey, Tadashi,” you start. You should have practiced or wrote a script or something, because any words, phrases, questions in your mind are gone now, leaving Tadashi to pick up the pieces once again.

If it weren’t for the tiny breath from the otherside of the phone, you might’ve hung up waiting for a response. He mutters your name first, practically lost by the hestiance and heaviness of the word. “Are you calling about coming to pick up your car?”

“Right, yea, I’m so sorry we left it there and haven’t, uh, been back to get it. We kinda just wanted to give you time because of everything and didn’t want to, yknow, rush anything or give you any trouble or-” you’re rambling on, nervous to stop. Kei rests his hand on your lower back just to let you know that he’s there.

“It’s fine, really, just, are you guys coming to pick it up?” he asks, interrupting your nervous spiel.

“Yes,” you reply, knowing that you have so much more to say, but not ready to say any of it. After being so intimate with him and Kei, you’d think that it would be easier to talk, like everything’s already been out on the table. It’s not until Kei raises his eyebrows, lets his thumb graze under your shirt and against your skin that you actually get the words out. “Do you think we could come in, too?”

Tadashi isn’t stupid. He has to know what you’re implying or, at the very least, know that the two of you want to talk with him. Kei is staring at you, the room is dead silent, and every second that Tadashi doesn’t answer is more confirmation that you’ve just made a fool of yourself.

You’re about to take it back, to backpedal without remorse in an attempt to salvage civility, but Tadashi clears his throat, unknowingly interrupting you. “Yeah, that would be okay.”

Almost too stunned to speak, you’re sure that the surprise was written across your face. “O-Okay, yeah.” It’s heavy in your throat, banging at the back of your teeth, you want to ask, clarify, make sure that you’re on the same page, but you also feel like you should quit while you’re ahead. Kei’s confusion turns to understanding when you give him a wide-eyed, short nod.

“Alright,” Tadashi replies, but still doesn’t hang up.

Tsukishima doesn’t grab the phone from you, but he talks loud enough for his voice to make it through the receiver. “Like last time?”

“Like last time,” Tadashi confirms quickly. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, for sure, see you then,” you reply, “Looking forward to it, Dashi.” You can faintly hear the hitch in his breath followed by the low clear of his throat.

“Me too.” Click.

You bring the phone down from your ear. The weight on your chest isn’t as unbearable with the assumptions off the table. There’s still a lingering force quickening your heartbeat, but at least you can breathe for now.

“Thanks,” you say, looking up at Kei.

He shrugs. “That’s what I’m here for, bluntness.”

“And doing the hard things that I can’t,” you scoff.

He bends down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead and pushing your hair out of your face. “Definitely not all the time. It’s probably like half and half,” Kei says and then tilts his head, “Mm, maybe 60/40.”

You nod, “Yeah, but that seems pretty fair to me.” You pull back, wiping your palms on your pants. “I should bring the thing, right?”

“Why else did we buy it?”

“No, I know, I guess I’m just nervous,” you admit.

“No reason to be. You’ll be great and Tadashi will love it, you know that,” Kei reassures you.

In theory, you did know that. If you really thought about it, you knew that. The evidence backs it up, the reciprocation in excitement backs it up, and yet you can’t help but doubt the ideas that have been swarming your head since that night.

The entire walk to Tadashi’s feels heavy, steps dragging, bag weighted, Kei’s hand in yours evident. So many thoughts are taking place in your head. You try to rid them, but you can’t. The conversation from that night is on repeat in your mind. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it’ll make you more decisive, maybe the repetition will hammer in these clouded thoughts.

You thought that the first time coming back felt weird, but coming back the second time comes with a mix of eerie comfort and looming taboo.

It’s a blur, really, Tadashi answering the door, inviting you inside. You remember the small things like taking off your shoes and placing them neatly next to the spot that you used to every single day and when you shake your head no at Tadashi politely asking if you want a glass of water or cup of tea. The rest of it is lost, second to the anticipation and the thought in the back of your mind to book it out the front door.

You are sitting on the couch. Kei is sitting next to you. Somehow everything in your head is talking at once and they’re your thoughts, but you can’t make out a single one.

You want to just skip to the part of the night that doesn’t feel like this anymore - fidgeting just to calm your nerves, the three of you sitting in a small circle like a meeting with stale coffee, no eye contact, barely allowing yourself to breathe. Kei’s hand hovers over to yours, slowly, trying not to bring attention to itself, not for his sake or even Tadashi’s, but for yours. His grasp wraps around your fidgeting fingers, his intertwining with yours like they were meant to be there.

In a matter of seconds, you catch Tadashi’s eyes as they flicker from the intertwined hands in your lap to your eyes back to your hands and then down at his own. You can’t get a long enough look at his face to see the emotion, but you don’t really need a long look to tell you that Tadashi is feeling more nervous than you are now, as if that’s even possible.

How hard would this have been without Kei sitting here right next to you? Without Kei throughout this entire process? Tadashi doesn’t have that, doesn’t get the sweet hand hold or the supportive presence. He deserves it, though.

You take the first step, hands shaking, breath unsteady as you stand up and move towards Tadashi. You don’t know what to say once you are right in front of him, so you opt for silence. Instead, you take this time to regulate your breathing and focus on the emotions in Tadashi’s face that you couldn’t find before.

All of the doubt that you had last night (and a few seconds ago, for that matter) is fading away. Now that he’s sitting here in front of you, now that you can see the soft features on his face, can feel Kei’s assuring presence behind you, can watch the way that Tadashi waits for your next sentence, patient and attentive. Your hand moves slowly as you reach to cup Tadashi’s face, directing his attention and testing the waters.

Banging against your sternum, your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest. It doesn’t calm on contact or when Tadashi leans into the touch ever so slightly and it gets much worse when the words tumble out of your mouth. You can’t help them, seeing how pretty Tadashi looks in front of you, getting flashbacks from last week, remembering how good he was for you.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don't know if this sentence takes Kei by surprise, don’t dare to look back or show an ounce of hesitation in front of Tadashi. Besides, at this moment, you’re more concerned about Tadashi, the way you can see the emotions clearly now, but you still can’t read them very well for the sake of how fast they’re changing. But you can read the nod, though slight, of Tadashi’s head after a beat of contemplation.

The kiss is sweet, warm. You have to bend down a bit more than you’re anticipating, but that only means you get to tilt his head up, bring his lips closer to yours, thumb gently pushing on the underside of his chin, fingers resting against his neck in a way that you can feel his harsh swallow as soon as you pull away. His eyes are wide, struck with something bordering wonderment, and you are drinking it in.

This has to be exactly what Kei felt like on the night that started it all.

There’s a surge of confidence for the first time since your last visit, like it’s no longer testing the waters, because you know exactly why the three of you are here. You’re not sure that Tadashi knows, but somehow that makes you feel even more assured, like he’s depending on you to guide him through the night.

And it really does feel like history repeating itself.

Still, it doesn’t matter how much you see yourself in Tadashi right now and how that means that if he is you then you would be Kei and how you know that if Kei were standing where you’re standing right now, things would unfold a lot differently. Despite the lingering pressure of this new role you’re embodying, you have to ask.

It comes out sweet, warm like the kiss you shared moments ago. “You’re okay with all of this?”

Tadashi’s nod is a touch more certain than the previous, but you follow it up nonetheless. “And it’s alright that I don’t keep asking if it’s alright?” you ask. He nods again. “If something is getting too much or you’re starting to feel uncomfortable, just say yellow.” God, saying it aloud brings you back. You remember that Kei had started touching you, kissing you at this point, but all you want to do is stare at Tadashi, see the understanding and attention. “If something is too much and you want to stop immediately, then say red and we’ll stop, make sure you’re okay.”

He nods again, but not one curt nod like the rest of them, more desperate, repetitive, like he wants you to stop talking, not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows what’s ahead and he wants it to come faster. You give in, moving your hand down his shoulder, leaning in to press your lips against his ear. “If you can’t breathe, mouth full, can’t verbally communicate, just 3 nice hard taps against me or Kei and we’ll stop.”

A whimper slips out from between his teeth in lieu of a nod, but you want to hear it in stumbling confirmation. “Understand?” mhm “Say it. Need to hear you say it, Dashi.”

“Yea- I mean, yea, yes. I understand.”

You stand up straight, towering over top of Tadashi. “I’m in control tonight.” You’re not sure how Kei looks behind you, taller than you, you know that, but you wonder if his height makes you look less in control than you feel. You wonder if his facial expression is making Tadashi doubt your dominance over the situation. You didn’t really talk about this, Kei and you, not in detail, not about power dynamics. Truthfully, if you had, you’re not sure you would be in this position right now.

It’s comfortable for you to be right between Kei and Tadashi in the order of power, but to declare that you’re in control, not just of Tadashi, but just in general, it’s stepping out of your comfort zone.

“Y-You?” Tadashi asks innocently enough, eyes flitting from you to just behind you where you know that Kei is standing. Part of you, the safe part, wants to quiet down, wait for Kei to answer for you, to either protect you or scoff at the notion. That part of you doesn’t win.

Rather, you bend down again, eyes level with Tadashi’s. “If that’s a problem, I can leave instead.”

“No, it’s not- I’m not- I didn’t- I’m sorry!” he starts immediately.

“Don’t question me again or I’ll leave,” you repeat.

“I won’t. I won’t.” Tadashi says, not a promise, but you believe it like one.

You turn around, look up at Kei. There’s still that voice inside of you looking for his permission, for his approval. You don’t think that will ever go away. This little voice inside of you comes through in the form of a silent question. If it were anyone else on the receiving end you’d think it’d get lost in translation. Am I doing okay?

“What do you want me to do?” Kei asks plainly, unwavering, like it’s not completely left field for him to be asking you for direction. It’s the perfect answer to your question.

You’re not exactly sure how you’re going to get through this night. You’re exhausted already and you haven’t even really given a command yet. You figure, however, that the best mantra to get you through the night is to just continue to ask for things that you really want. What do you want him to do?

You go with your first instinct and though your voice isn’t as strong as you want it to be, it feels good leaving your mouth. “I want you to carry me upstairs, want Tadashi to follow. And I want to be placed nicely on the bed.”

Kei moves immediately, hoisting you up and letting you wrap your arms around his neck. There’s no hesitance to just doing what he’s told. You assume, for now at least, that it’s because the tasks aren’t too demanding or degrading. You’ll be waiting for backlash for the rest of the night.

You don’t have to direct any of the demands to Tadashi. He hears you and he listens, waiting just enough time to give you a breath of space and then following you like a puppy. By the time Tadashi enters the room, Kei is placing you, exactly as you asked, nice and gentle on the bed.

It’s so much different than normal. Kei is always attentive, always makes sure that you’re taken care of, but it’s so different . His hands follow your body as he lies you down, making sure that there is a cushion of his palm between each inch and the bed as it comes in contact. God, you wish you could feel it on your skin.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” Kei asks. You can’t detect any amount of snide smirk or tone, have to take it as sincere despite months and months of experiences screaming in your head. Your stomach is in knots and you want to say yes just because he asked, but making him wait feels like it’ll have a better payoff in the end.

“Not yet,” you say, low like a whisper. It’s not loud enough for Tadashi to hear, not meant to show your dominance or prove yourself. It’s a moment just for you and Kei. His eyebrows raise and then furrow, a remark starts to bubble, but he shuts it down before it reaches his throat. You don’t know where Tadashi is, but you don’t care either. You’re following your wants, pushing your fingertips through Kei’s blonde locks and making soft fists. “I want you to want it more.”

You let go quickly, as soon as it’s about to elicit a response, and then you press on his shoulders with the heel of your palm, digging your fingernails into the tops just hard enough for him to really feel it . As soon as he’s stood up, standing at the foot of the bed, so familiarly over top of you, you ask, “Aren’t you going to ask me what else I want?”

He swallows the alternative response and asks just that, “What do you want now, (y/n)?”

You hook your fingers into your waistband. Both Kei’s and Tadashi’s eyes follow the movement as you push your shorts and panties down to your ankles. They’re still dangling off of one of your ankles after you maneuver one foot out of one side, spreading your legs apart and realizing just how bold you’re being tonight.

You hadn’t realized, though, how wet you had gotten from just a few small actions. It was a mix of the newfound control and the way that they were both listening to you so well. It was the possibilities of tonight and how Kei, right now, was about to do whatever came out of your mouth.

“I want you to eat me out,” you say. You could’ve stopped there, short and sweet, but the words tumble out and you don’t regret them one bit, “Want you to say please and thank you. You don’t do that very often.” Kei’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t talk back.

“And I want Tadashi to watch,” you say to Kei and then turn to face Tadashi, “I want you to watch. Like last time.” You glance down to the small tent in Tadashi’s pants, let your eyes linger as an added explanation. “Just like last time. Do you understand?” Your tone is a mixture, a condescending softness.

Tadashi lifts his hand, brings it steadily down to his bulge, but hesitates before touching himself through the fabric. “Now?” he asks.

You give a small laugh, “The show hasn’t even started yet, but yes, if you’re that desperate.”

You don’t know how quickly Tadashi is to start to touch himself because Kei hooks his arms underneath your legs and pulls your pussy against his mouth in one motion. You keep repeating to yourself that you’re in control. You have to keep reminding yourself or you would, probably instantaneously, slip back into doing whatever Kei wanted you to do.

Actually, even while you’re repeating to yourself that you’re in control, every part of you wants to close your eyes, lay back, and just let Kei do whatever he wants to do, and you know that tonight is all about what you want, but this is a once in a lifetime experience and you’re going to take advantage of it. You grab a fistful of Kei’s hair, pulling his head away from you in a way that surprises both of you.

“Say please.” It’s not nearly as cocky and confident and strong as you want it to be. In fact, it’s followed by an airy laugh from yourself because it’s so out of place. “Kei, baby, say please.”

“Please.” It’s not nearly as pleasing and desperate and appreciative as you want it to be. You cock your head.

“That doesn’t sound like you really want to eat me out,” you furrow your eyebrows. You tighten your fist in his hair. “So say please.”

His eyes widen and he groans at your harsh grip, “Please, can I eat you out?”

“I still feel like you don’t really want to taste me, baby. I feel like you don’t want to bury your face in between my legs and eat me until I come all over your face.” You’re talking down to him now and the confidence is building in your chest as you watch his facial expressions shift. His mouth is basically watering. “I know you want that, so why don’t you ask really nicely and maybe I’ll let you.”

The pleasing, desperate, appreciative tone that you wanted is there and, with it, a bit of embarrassment to have to ask for something you usually beg for. “I- Please, can I please eat you out? I want to taste you and eat you, please.” His voice is more timid than you’ve ever heard it and it’s making your stomach flutter more than how close he is to you.

“You’re gonna make me come all over your pretty face, aren’t you?” you ask, slowly pulling his face towards your pussy. He’s moving with you, mouth opening as he gets centimeters away, but you stop him. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” he nods, trying to finish the motion and bury his face in between your legs.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I’m going to make you come,” he mumbles. You can see just how much he wants to skip this part, but you’re having so much fun.

“Where am I going to come?” you smirk.

“All over my face,” Kei answers, knowing full well he’s not giving you the answer that you want.

“All… over… your…,” you say slowly, tilting his face upwards to look you directly in the eyes, watching the warmth spread across his features.

“Gonna make you come all over my pretty face,” Kei finally finishes.

“Now say please,” you tease.

“Please,” he says quickly.

“Pretty please?” you push on.

“Pretty please, fuck, (y/n), please let me eat you out. Please. I need to fucking eat you out. I need to feel your come on my tongue, need to taste it, need to please you and feel your thighs against my cheeks. Pretty please,” he spews, hoping that this time he actually gets to do what he’s been wanting to do since he knelt between your legs.

The last thing he sees before being pulled into your pussy is your huge smile. “Good boy, see, that wasn’t too hard.”

Between your legs, Kei has some ounce of control. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how to make you squirm and even though he had to say please a million times to get here and will have to stop when you say stop and follow your orders as you give them, until then, he gets to do whatever he wants.

There’s no teasing, no build up. You’re so wet, dripping from teasing him and the control you felt with Tadashi. Kei doesn’t let a drop go to waste, running the flat of his tongue between your lips and prodding at your hole with the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t want to waste another second without his tongue deep inside of your tight little hole.

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, pressing his face as hard into you as he can in an attempt to get his tongue so deep inside you. You help as much as you can, both hands at the back of his head, pulling and tugging at his hair, clawing at his neck and back and as far down as you can reach. He knows how sensitive your hole is, feels it quivering against his tongue.

He knows your body better than you do, knows exactly how to make you come. After all of the teasing you did, all of the talk, he can’t think of anything he wants more than to make you come as quickly as possible.

You weren’t going to stop him.

“Holy fuck, Kei, oh my god.”

His lips are moving against your clit as he tries to fuck his tongue into you deeper. He’s moving his entire face, the tip of his tongue harsh against your hole as his nose nudges against your clit. The motions are perfectly repetitive just like he knows you like it. The louder that your moans get and the harder that you start to squirm and the tighter your hands grip, the more motivated Kei is. “Gonna, fuck, I’m gonna come all over your pretty face,” you tell him between moans.

Your core is tightening and your body is convulsing, but you can’t let go. You need to hear him. He needs to tell you. You want him to tell you. “Kei, fuck, tell me. Please, tell me. Let me come, please. Please.” There is no remorse, not even after the fact. Part of that comes with the lack of snide remarks or tone from Kei, the other part comes with just how close you are and how hard you’re about to fall.

“Come, baby, come all over my pretty face, please, please come for me. Please come all over my pretty face,” he says against your pussy, but you can hear each word so clearly. That’s all it takes for you to come undone. You let go, head hitting the mattress harshly as you grab onto his hair even harder. His name is the only thing coming out of your mouth, the only thing on your mind until it isn’t.

“Again, again, again,” you say, repeating as you nod at him.

He listens instantly, diving back between your legs and continuing to eat you out. He doesn’t have to tell you to come the second time or the third or the fourth. You let them roll over you like waves, coming as soon as your body allows you to.

“Okay, okay, fuck, okay, that’s enough,” you breathe. He doesn’t stop, driven by the pure bliss in the reactions you’ve given him and the way that you dropped control for a passing moment. He wants to feel it again, taking control from you. You almost let him. “Fuck, Kei, enough,” you repeat, more stern this time.

He lifts his head from between your legs, face a mess, hair tangled, breath ragged. “What do you say?” you ask, not even letting him compose himself before responding.

“Thank you,” he says, and honestly, he looks just as grateful as the labored appreciation sounds.

You push yourself up despite how much you want to just sit with Kei’s warm cheek against the fat of your thigh and despite how tired you are from everything that just happened and despite how you want to hear Kei thank you forever. “Kei, get him prepped for me, yea?” You miss the initial reaction from Tadashi, only catch the end of his attempts to compose himself and the lasting redness on his cheekbones. You don’t say another word until you’ve made it to the doorframe. “Dashi, Kei’s in charge while I’m gone, listen good, okay?”

You catch the faintest glimpse of Kei’s smirk as he stands tall once again, making his way over to the corner of the room that Tadashi was frozen in. The second that you’re out of view, you let yourself breathe, let your shoulders slump and your legs wobble as much as they want. You grab your bag that you left at the front door and change in the familiar bathroom closest to the top of the stairs.

You went all out, decided that if you were going to do this, you were going to do this right. The thick main harness was just one part of the intricate buckles, straps, and fasteners. You had tried it on before, the first time that you got it. Kei helped you put it on, tightened the straps and moved each piece so it fit snug and comfortable.

The top belt sits on your waist, thick faux leather straps with buckles on each side adorned to a ring that rests on your stomach. The second set of straps holds the main ring in place, two fasteners tightly fit against your hips. You slide the dildo into the ring before tightening the straps to your liking. It’s heavy between your legs, thick and lengthy, deceivingly lifelike to the touch and eye.

As you’re putting the finishing touches onto your look, fixing the harness and making sure that everything is exactly as you want it to be, the soft and subtle noises that you’ve been hearing from the other room become louder. The noises quickly fill the entire upstairs. You’re sure at this point that Kei has asked Tadashi not to hold back, has told him explicitly not to.

There is a lot of gratitude coming from Tadashi and only as he’s practically screaming can you hear what he’s thanking Kei for.

“Thank you for getting me ready for (y/n),” Tadashi cries. “Feels so good, so good, fingers feel so good thank you, Kei.”

It sends a shiver down your spine, the amount of desperation and the sincerity of the thank you.

You gently press open the cap to the lube, letting a stream of the cool liquid coat the top side of the silicone cock. You use your thumb and palm to spread it over the skin, twisting your wrist and slathering the slick liquid all over, pouring a generous amount on the tip and watching it drip from the head. You know that it’s not really yours, that it’s not actually attached to you, that you don’t feel from it, and yet, as you push your hips forward, as the cock slides between the hole you’ve created with your fist, your core feels warm and you let out a small moan.

The walk back to the room feels like a mile. You know that the two of them are undoubtedly too enthralled in their own actions right now to notice you at the door. It’s not a bad thing though. You get to watch for a few moments. They don’t know you’re there, aren’t acting in any sort of way for an audience or praise.

Tadashi has taken your spot. His legs are high in the air, held up by his hands grasped around his ankles. Kei holds a bottle of lube in one hand and is fucking 4 fingers into Tadashi’s hole with the other.

Tadashi’s cock, rock hard and angrily red, is slapping against his stomach every time that Kei’s fingers bottom out. The back of his head is pressed into the mattress so hard, but his eyes are trained on Kei, bottom lip quivering whenever involuntary noises weren’t tumbling from them, sheets bunched up against sweaty palms.

You could’ve watched this all night. You’re sure that if you hadn’t interrupted them they would’ve continued all night, partially because you didn’t give them instruction to stop, but also because the determination and joy in Kei’s demeanor matches Tadashi’s desperation perfectly. There’s something about Kei’s actions that makes it incomparable to how he acts with you, something about the fact that even though he’s in control, he’s just following directions.

“Is he ready?” you ask, followed by an observation, “Looks like you’re just doing this for him now.”

They’re startled at your voice, immediately taken out of the intense moment that the two of them were in, but there’s no disdain for the deprivation of the transfixion. The only word to describe the look on their faces is gawking. There is less surprise in Kei’s given he’s seen you in it before, but that doesn’t stop the harsh swallow or the dwelling gaze over your chest, down to your waist, following the straps.

Tadashi isn’t as subtle. His face is bright red, blushing, gasping for air from just being stretched. He pushes up from the bed, props himself on his elbows, and just stares. You can practically feel his heartbeat from where you’re standing in the doorway. “Is that for me?” he asks, void of the confidence the question deserves, tongue wetting his lips.

You walk over, agonizingly slow, cock in hand. “Why don’t you turn around and I’ll show you?”

By the time you’ve made it to the edge of the bed, Tadashi has scrambled over himself and gotten on all fours, as if any delay would result in you giving up on the notion. You climb onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as you take in the sight before you. Tadashi looks rigid, not knowing when the next order or movement is coming, eyes forward on the pale wall.

The second that the soft skin of your palms comes into contact with his hips, he melts into you, pushing back into your touch. His shoulders slump, head falls down, staring at the comforter below him instead. “Is this alright? Are you ready?” you ask, leaving one palm resting on his hip, but using the other hand to guide the tip of the dripping dildo against Tadashi’s stretched hole.

The answer is evident in the urgency of his whimpers and the desperation in his reactions, but you need to hear it coming out of his mouth. “I’m not going to fuck you until you tell me you’re ready for it,” you clarify.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready, please,” Tadashi answers.

“Good boy.” There’s only a second between the finishing of your praise and you pressing your hips forward. It’s slow, but the pace is necessary no matter how badly you want to watch him take it all right this instant. You’re using your hand to guide the thick cock into Tadashi’s tight hole. You don’t need to physically feel it to know how tight it is, to see the rim swallowing the dildo.

The moans and whimpers have ceased, replaced by labored breaths and diffused whines. You’d ask him questions, try to elicit some sort of verbal reply to the process, but he looks so focused on taking your cock. Still, you guide him through it, not just with the small kneading that you’re doing into his hip and the slow pace you’ve adapted, but with small coos of appreciation. “You’re doing so great, Dashi, fuck. It looks so good back here, you taking my nice thick cock just like that.”

As soon as you don’t need your hand to guide the dildo, you lace it into Tadashi’s hair. It’s so soft. You can barely grasp any of it, can’t reach until he picks his head up and pushes it back into your hand. You feel disgustingly powerful now, hand weaved into Tadashi’s hair, slowly thrusting in and out of Tadashi’s ass.

It takes a few beats for Tadashi to fully stretch around the girth of your cock, but with every gentle fuck into him, his whines turn back into whimpers which turn into throaty moans. “Can I go faster now?” you ask with a genuine softness. “Can you handle it?” with less genuine softness. He nods, choking out a few yeses amongst the noises.

You reward him with praise once again, “Good boy, huh, Tadashi? Are you my good boy?” You punctuate the question with a hard thrust, your hips meeting his ass in one fluid motion. His hair is tugged by your harsh grip and, with it, his lax body every time that you pull your hips away.

He’s putty in your hand, malleable. The harder that you fuck him, the louder his moans get, the more power you feel. “Fuck, Dashi, it’s like I can fucking feel how pathetic you are squeezing my goddamn cock. So tight, so fucking perfect.” Your hips are on fire from repeatedly slamming into him, your palms are so sweaty that you can barely get a good grip, resorting to using your nails to anchor in place instead. Praise keeps falling out of your mouth so quickly that you’re not even sure what you’re saying half the time. It’s fast and you’re in control and he’s listening to you and you’re so drunk with this feeling.

You can’t stop ramming into him, glad, actually, for once that you can’t feel how good Tadashi’s tight hole is squeezing your cock. It lets you fuck him relentlessly, no worry in the world about stamina even if your glutes and core are on fire from the constant motion. You don’t want to stop, can’t, not with how fucking perfect he looks, not with how fucking obedient he’s being.

“I know you just want to be good, Dashi, fuck, we’ll teach you to be good, you’re being so good,” you moan.

It’s like you’re a completely different person here, so vastly different than the last time you were in this bedroom. You don’t miss it, not even a little bit. Well… at least not at this exact moment.

With no word from you, Kei has just been standing there, behind you, just watching . All of your attention is on Tadashi, soaking in his noises and body language, you’ve barely even noticed Kei. One quick glance over your shoulder and you can see how mesmerized he looks taking it all in, seeing you in this new element. You see the bulge in his pants, the little satisfaction that he is getting from his own palm. After doing so much already, he deserves better than what he’s giving himself now.

“Do what you do best, Kei. Abuse his throat,” you command, trying to keep a steady voice through your wandering thoughts and thrusts. You don’t have to ask him twice, barely have to finish the three word demand and he’s walking around to the other side of the bed.

He gets to see the side that you don’t get to see, the mouth agape and wet lashes. All that you get to see is the smirk that plagues the bottom half of Kei’s face as soon as Tadashi is in view. Your thrusts are slower now, but still at a steady enough pace to appreciate the subtle ripples in the fat of Tadashi’s ass, letting Kei get a good hold on the situation, giving up just a small fraction of your control so that Kei can have his way with Tadashi.

You offer a bit of advice as Kei is undoing his buckle. “It’s easy to pleasure Kei,” you breathe, “You just let him do whatever he wants to you.” You can practically feel Tadashi tighten around you.

“Open,” Kei says as soon as his cock is exposed to the air. “Wider than that, Tadashi, don’t insult me.” Both of Kei’s hands are braced on either side of Tadashi’s face as Kei pushes the tip of his cock past Tadashi’s lips. “Just like that, good.” Kei’s voice is monotonous, if only a bit condescending. “Keep that hole nice and tight for me.”

You watch Tadashi shiver as he drinks up every single word. Tadashi has been on the reciprocating end of Kei’s smart mouth before, but not like this. Even the last time he was in this room with the two of you, the directions that he was following only affected himself. Tadashi knows how poor he’s been at pleasing you in the past and he really just wants to be good, wants to listen and learn.

Kei shallowly thrusts in and out of Tadashi’s mouth, the head of his cock repeatedly slipping past Tadashi’s wet lips. “Use that slutty fucking tongue, Tadashi. You’re not doing anything, just sitting there getting railed, the least you could do is move your tongue.” Kei lets his head fall back, something evidently changing in the technique that Tadashi is using. “Good.”

The more that Kei seems to be enjoying it, the deeper his thrusts go, the faster his pace. It doesn’t take long for Kei to start using Tadashi like he uses you. If Tadashi didn’t look like he was enjoying himself as much as he did, pushing back onto your cock, whimpering and gagging around Kei’s, you would have stopped and taken his place.

He couldn’t make you come for years, even as you tried to guide him, begged him as you cried out instructions, but there was something so different about the way he’s going down on Kei.

You had directed him in the past, nudged his face where you wanted it to be, wrapped your legs around his neck to pull him deeper, but none of it mattered. He just couldn’t make you come.

But there was something so distinctly different about the way Kei was treating Tadashi. There was no begging or asking, and directing wasn’t the right word, neither was guiding. Kei now has a commanding hold of Tadashi’s face, one hand on either side as he moves Tadashi’s mouth up and down his cock. His hips are still, letting Tadashi’s head bob through the complete motion.

When Kei’s methods catch your eye, you can’t help but stop to take it in, no longer watching the ripples in his skin as your hips meet his ass, now watching it unfold from this angle, from behind Tadashi, your cock engulfed by his tight hole.

Kei’s long fingers bracket Tadashi’s face, pushing into his jaw, neck, cheek, wherever he could reach, and wherever he needed to adjust to get the most perfect angle. It’s mesmerizing.

And it’s so different from the way he handles you. Sometimes he holds your face like that, moves you so agonizingly slow on his length that your throat will hurt for days after, but there’s always an amount of trust.

This in front of you? The way that Kei is so meticulously moving Tadashi, the way that he’s leaving nothing up to assumption or interpretation, this is Kei teaching.

He’s wordless about it, doesn’t teach Tadashi through verbal instructions or lengthy explanations, he just shows him exactly what he wants. It’s almost more condescending than if Kei was talking down to him in a way, like he’s too stupid to understand what he means, so he can only show him.

You don’t think Tadashi catches this or thinks this far or has any thoughts at all right now other than controlling his breathing and every single muscle in his mouth and throat. It’s not a normal state of being, you know that well.

You catch a glimpse of Kei’s face, manage to pull your attention away from the thick cock splitting Tadashi open and Kei’s strong hands on Tadashi’s jaw. His face is strewn with pleasure and concentration. You don’t normally get to watch Kei from this angle nor this intently. You watch his eyebrows furrow together, his jaw clench between slow exhales, his features soften and his eyes flutter close every once and awhile. You’re cursing yourself for never having filmed the two of you having sex. You would watch this on repeat if you could.

“Kei,” you breathe, ready to repeat yourself on account of how quiet his name is in comparison to the lewd sounds that are bouncing off the walls. Kei looks up at you immediately with an air of confusion, waiting for another command or instruction. When nothing else comes, he doesn’t break eye contact like you thought he might. He’s not paying attention to Tadashi save for the mindless thrusting. “God, you look so good right now.”

He clicks his tongue at the compliment, shaking his head a small amount before returning his focus, looking back down almost quick enough to hide the subtle blush on his cheekbones. You don’t force him to look back at you, though you know that you could, but you still want to have some sort of contact with him. You are becoming increasingly aware of how much you want to be where Tadashi is and how much you want to feel Kei’s skin on yours.

Tadashi’s voice pulls you out of it, the repetition of your name that follows his gasping for air. “Want, want to- So good- Need to come,” Tadashi manages to get out in between harsh swallows and intakes of air.

“Not yet.” It comes out of your mouth without any thought and you realize why Kei does this so often. The sense of power that comes alongside controlling Tadashi’s orgasm is mindblowing. Even if he came right now, didn’t listen to you at all, you would have rode this high for weeks.

Tadashi does listen, though. He whimpers a small okay before Kei starts using his throat again. You claw your fingernails into his hips, pressing hard enough to leave small indents in his soft skin, and you pull him onto your cock to match your thrusts. “Look at that, see, you didn’t need to cum, not yet, Dashi, being such a good boy.”

Kei only gets to fuck Tadashi’s throat for a few moments before Tadashi is pulling away once again. “I- I can’t hold it any longer, please,” Tadashi’s voice cracks as he begs. “Please.” You pull out in one motion leaving Tadashi gaping and empty in front of you.

“Then come, Tadashi,” you say in a tone that is eerily as condescending as Kei’s. You run your hands down Tadashi’s side, grabbing onto his ass and spreading him open as wide as you can. “If you can’t hold it, then cum.”

Tadashi is thrusting into the air. “I- I can’t.”

“You’ve come without touching yourself before,” your voice is stern but steady at first, but as you keep thinking about it, there is a simmering underlying anger that is emerging. “Sat right there on the corner of the bed and came in your pants like a pathetic little cuck.”

You grab Tadashi by the shoulder, flipping him over onto his back. “Kei, pillow under his head so he can look at me while I’m fucking talking to him.” Kei doesn’t hesitate for a second, puts the pillow underneath Tadashi’s head so that his line of sight is directly at your face, eyes narrowed as you continue.

“When no one is paying attention to you, when you’re watching your ex get railed and satisfied in a way that you never could, you lose your mind. You’ll shoot your load, make a fucking mess all over yourself, but when I’m here giving you everything that you could ever want, you can’t fucking come?”

You positioned yourself between Tadashi’s legs, the head of the dildo grazing his hole. “What? When Kei tells you to do it you can, but when I tell you to come after pounding my fat fucking cock in and out of you, you can’t? Do you know how fucking pathetic that is?”

Tadashi’s chest is rising and falling faster, his breath is labored and he’s not breaking eye contact with you. You can tell just how close he is.

“I won’t tell you again. Instead, I’ll just fucking leave. Come. Now.” You wrap your hand around his throat, leaning your weight into your grip as his face scrunches up in ecstasy. His lips are moving, but no sound is coming out and only when you ease up on your grip can you hear the gratitude that he’s repeating in between the grunts.

His come spills from the head of his cock, lazily dripping down the sides of his rock hard erection and down his twitching balls. He’s struggling to keep his hands at his side and not jerk himself off through his orgasm.

“Is that all it took?” you scoff, pressing the head of the dildo against his asshole, catching some of his come as it drips down. “Still hard though, right, Dashi? Still want to get fucked?” You don’t give him time to answer before pushing your hips forward, slowly spearing him with your cock as tears fall from his eyes.

“Yes, fuck, please, I want to come again,” Tadashi begs, eyes not leaving yours.

“Greedy,” you shake your head, but you can’t hide your smirk as you pick up the pace. In this position you get to watch his face as you ruin him. The tears that are running down his face, wetting his cheeks and long lashes, just make it that much hotter. His cock is slapping against his stomach as thrust in and out of him.

It doesn’t take long before his breaths are closer together, back is arching, hips rolling, and he’s nodding in your direction. “I- I’m already so close. Can- I need- I want-.”

“What do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so good, came for me without anything but my voice, took Kei’s cock so well, just tell me what you want,” you say.

No one has touched his cock all night, covered in his own come, violently twitching against himself as it slaps against his stomach.

His eyes are screwed shut, thrusting up into nothing, consequently fucking himself on your cock, you’re sure that he’s going to ask to touch himself. In your mind, there’s no other option, nothing that he would feel comfortable enough asking for.

It leaves his mouth so confidently. He trusts you so much, knows that you wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true, so he asks for exactly what he wants and he’s so assured as he does.

“Want Tsukki’s mouth on my cock.”

You look up to see Kei’s reaction, refuse to do it if there is any sort of discomfort or distaste, but there’s nothing of the sort. He gives a short nod, a nod that Tadashi is too fucked out to notice. You don’t slow your pace or allow a falter in your rhythm as you watch Kei climb onto the bed. He’s gentle as he takes Tadashi’s cock into his mouth, captures the head first, swirling his tongue around the tip before taking the entire length. Kei doesn’t seem to struggle much, easily takes it to the base.

Tadashi is surprised despite the fact that he’s the one that asked for it so nicely. His eyes flutter shut, truly taking in every single feeling and sensation that is happening to him right now. Tadashi’s hips are thrusting up into Kei’s mouth now, moaning as he slides down Kei’s throat and then falls down onto your cock.

“Gonna- Can I? Please,” Tadashi can barely say more than two words at a time, but you know exactly what he’s asking for.

“Go ahead, Dashi, come, you deserve it.”

As soon as you say the word, he’s coming down Kei’s throat. You watch it drip from the corners of Kei’s mouth as Tadashi keeps thrusting desperately. Tadashi is thanking you and thanking Kei and mumbling other words that you can’t quite pick up. His hands are roaming, trying to find a place to land. One finds a spot lightly on Kei’s shoulder and you meet the other hand with your own, locking your fingers with his as he holds onto you through his orgasm.

Kei waits for Tadashi to calm down before pulling his head off of his cock. Kei wipes his lips and you can tell there's a smart comment that wants to come out so badly, but he doesn’t get the chance to say it.

“Thank you,” Tadashi says, eyes shutting every other second. You’re surprised that he’s still awake after two back-to-back orgasms like that. His eyebrows furrow and he perks up just a little bit, “but, wait, what about- what about you guys?”

You shake your head, carefully getting up from the bed, cautious not to disturb Tadashi as Kei gently positions him more comfortably in bed. You unbuckle the straps on your harness, taking it off and stepping out of it. You feel so light without the extra weight between your legs.

You manage to get in bed before Kei reaches for the covers and extra blankets. “This wasn’t about us,” you assure Tadashi. “Thank you for letting us in and for trusting us enough to do this again.” You feel the mattress dip behind you as Kei climbs underneath the covers he’s laid on top of the two of you.

In the morning there will be more to say, more conversations to be had, boundaries to set and feelings to talk out, but for now… for now you are happily in bed, surrounded and warm, and you know that your company is too.

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join my taglist here!! ~~ (one more chapter left?!?!?!) ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #tsukishima kei x reader #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi smut #tsukishima x yn #toriwritesshit #not fair!

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drivinmeinsane · 9 days ago

Text

City Life, Apple Pie

Driver x Reader ※ { masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: There’s a part of you that wonders if he would accept the brush of your fingertips over the back of his hand. If he would silently spread his fingers enough for yours to make a home between his. ※ Rating: G for general audiences. ※ Content/tags: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, No use of Y/N, No Pronouns Given for Reader ※ Word count: 2,510 ※ Status: One-shot ※ Author's note: Another year has passed me by in this fandom and I'm no less captivated by so many of these characters. Happy 44th to Ryan Gosling. ※ Song inspiration: Apple Pie - Lizzy McAlpine

“You and the kid doing anything special tonight?”

Shannon’s voice cuts through the ambient hum of the overhead lights. You grit your teeth at the loud intrusion but you don’t turn your attention away from the sheets of paper littering the overcrowded desk. Ever since you started working for Picture Car Warehouse, you’ve been one of the many victims of the grizzled mechanic’s long-winded and largely one-sided conversations.

Instead of indulging him in glazed-eyed attention, you nudge an oil smeared wrench out of the way of a paragraph you need to look over. It leaves a black smear behind on the already smudged paper. One of the fingerprints that have been pressed into the corner of the sheet has a glaring interruption in the pattern that makes you think it was accidentally left by Driver. He’d sliced his thumb open on a piece of sheet metal just a few days ago.

Metal scrapping was yet another one of Shannon’s questionable business plans. He seemed to be a variable fountain of ideas. You’re honestly surprised he’s only ended up with a broken pelvis from all the bullshit he’s talked about pulling during his lifetime.

The older man clears his throat in lieu of any response from you and continues. “Now, if I were you, I might try a pie. Kid’s never been one for cake. Not that I’ve seen anyway. He’s always at that diner. You know? The one over on San Fernando? Jack's? I think? Something with a car in the name, maybe.”

“What are you talking about?” you finally ask, trying to rein in your exasperation. Looking up at him, you rub your thumb over the pen in your grasp’s clicker—not quite applying enough pressure to trigger the mechanism. You just want to get this insurance claim dealt with so you can go find Driver and the two of you can go home to your shared rental and you can be tormented with thoughts of how badly you want to kiss the crooked smile off your roommate while you watch TV crammed on the tiny couch that came with the place.

Shannon raises his eyebrows at you from his position leaning against the desk. He is clearly surprised you’ve spoken at all.

“The kid?” he says, slowly. “It’s his birthday tomorrow. Didn’t he tell you?”

Your stomach swoops unpleasantly with surprise. Driver hasn’t said a damn word about it. There hasn’t even been the vaguest suggestion of even what month he was born in. He’d left you completely in the dark to that personal detail. It had seemed almost unimportant while you had collected the crumbs of what you did discover, hoarding the small details like precious gems. You know that he likes the pale blue of spring sky the best. You know he doesn’t eat sandwiches because of his mother. You’ve learned that he flexes his fingers on his steering wheel when he’s done too many hours of driving and his joints ache. You think you’re realizing that he does love—quietly and intently. But you don’t know when his damn birthday is.

Of course he hasn’t, you think, he’d rather take a hammer to his own head than to be an inconvenience or let on that he actually has wants or needs.

“No.”

At this admission, Shannon laughs and claps you on the shoulder with a work-roughened hand before heaving himself off the edge of the desk to return to work with some effort. You know the brace he wears digs at him—Lord knows he’s rubbed at his perpetually bruised hip and grumbled about any hint of humidity enough that half the guys in the shop have offered to chip in and get the “old man” a rocking chair so that he has a designated place to sit for his scheming and bitching.

Halfway through the door connecting the garage to the cramped office that fronts the building, Shannon pauses. His voice is crackling with a barely concealed amusement as he makes a confession.

“He didn’t tell me neither. I snuck a glance at his license back when I hired him.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

Driver shifts the car into another gear. The action is preformed so smoothly that you almost can’t feel the subtle hitch as the old Malibu responds. No wonder Shannon has been singing his praises as soon as he’s out of earshot. Driver is good—almost unreal—when it comes to vehicles. His actions have always been able to speak more for him than any meager handful of words ever could.

He leaves his hand resting on the gearshift. You feel your throat go dry as you shoot furtive glances at it. It’s unfair, really, the way that the setting sun casts vibrant light over his skin. It highlights the contours of his fingers and sets the fine hair dusting down his arms and over the backs of his hands aglow. Letting your eyes linger, you can make out the silver flashes of old scars.

You look away.

You have to clench your hand into a fist to avoid placing it over his. You want to touch him so badly. It’s a desire that has kicked around in the unreasonable parts of your mind ever since Shannon forcefully introduced the two of you on the back end of some B-list car chase movie. It has only intensified since you signed a lease agreement for a shitty two bedroom apartment together.

There’s a part of you that wonders if he would accept the brush of your fingertips over the back of his hand. If he would silently spread his fingers enough for yours to make a home between his.

Your nails dig into your palm, biting like a badly trained dog. You can’t bring yourself to risk destroying your friendship with the quiet man at your side. It would be better to swallow down the bitter taste of unspoken admissions than to find yourself without his company at all.

Unable to take the usually comfortable silence of the ride home, you speak, thinking to the earlier conversation with Shannon. Your gaze is firmly fixated through the windshield. If you look at your roommate, you might cry.

“Cherry, peach, or apple?”

There’s a long moment of silence, so long that you’re not sure if he’s mulling over his response or if he’s that taken aback by your sudden questioning.

“Apple,” he says, voice soft. There’s a fondness in the depths of that one single word that you must be imagining.

“Okay,” you respond, swallowing down your own affection that threatens to bubble to the surface. You can work with that. There’s some apples taking up residence in a chipped bowl on the counter.

Scenery passes by. Neither of you make a stab at conversation for the rest of the way back to the apartment building. Silence has become second nature between the two of you. There’s an easy comfort in it.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Got a job,” Driver says halfway through the movie you’re watching.

You look away from the TV.

The mechanic is sprawled out beside you on the couch, legs spread wide as he sags back into the worn material. His empty bowl from the dinner the two of you made together is perched on one knee. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body. You feel drawn to it like a moth to a light. In the glow of the television, it’s so easy to imagine his arm draping over your shoulders and drawing you against the firm line of his body.

There has still been no mention of his birthday. You’re entirely certain that he’s going to just let it slip by without a word.

No real name, no birthday, no desires. He’s forcing himself to be a blank slate for the projection of others. It makes your heart hurt.

“What is it?” you ask, surprised that he’s going out after working at the garage since the sun teased the horizon and long after it tipped over the apex. Shannon has a tendency to overwork him.

He lets silence unfold after your question as fantastical plants come to light on the screen in front of you. You’re more intent on the minute changes in his expressions—a raise of his eyebrow, the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks—than on the movie.

Finally, Driver stands up. He holds his hand out to take your empty bowl. The brush of your fingers together as you pass it to him sends sparks through your stomach.

“Just taking some guys ‘cross town. Might take a coupla hours." He heads towards the kitchen with his cargo.

You follow after him, taking up residence in the doorway as he scrubs the bowls clean and sets them in the drying rack beside the sink. Wanting to be of some use, you lean over to snag his jacket off the hook by the front door. You offer it to him when he turns away from slipping the hand towel back over the oven handle. He takes it from you with a warm squint of his eyes and shrugs into it. The slick material shines blue from the distant television lights.

“Be careful,” you tell him. You want to kiss him goodbye. You don’t move.

There’s a pregnant silence. Palpable tension fills the air. The two of you are on the cusp of something.

The bubble doesn’t burst. The wheelman just nods and slips out the door, locking it behind him with a twist of his wrist. You let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

His departure gives you time to pour over the battered cookbook some previous tenant had left behind in one of the kitchen cabinets. You should have just enough time to attempt making a pie. It can’t be that hard, surely. People have been making pies for centuries.

───※ ·❆· ※───

It proved to be a difficult task, far harder than you could have ever thought. You wipe down the counter, cleaning up the last traces of what had felt like an hour and a half fight for your life. You toss the rag over the sink faucet and look at your finished project with despair.

The pie is awkward and lumpy—almost a bad finger painting come to life.

Fuck. You know you should have walked to somewhere, anywhere, or coughed up the money for a taxi to find one made by a professional. This looks like shit.

A lump builds in your throat, quickly followed by involuntary tears leaping to your eyes. He’s done so much for you just by being a steady presence in your life for the past few months. The least you could have done was make him something presentable

Your self-pity is cut short by the solid step of boots outside the door, followed shortly by the clatter of keys making contact with the doorknob. Driver is home.

Nervous, you brush your hands over your face and gather yourself. With more confidence in your voice than you feel, you call out, “Welcome back.”

In response, you hear the rustle of a jacket being stripped off and folded under one arm, closely followed by a quiet exhale. The mechanic appears around the corner. Upon seeing you, a crooked smile slowly spreads over Driver’s face. He tosses his keys onto the counter with an easy motion of his arm. You’re blocking his view of the pie.

“Somethin’ smells good.” He sounds tired. There’s exhaustion lining weighing down the corners of his eyes.

“I…” you start, trailing off. Rallying yourself, you try again. “It’s not midnight yet so…”

Confusion creases the space between his eyebrows and he opens his mouth to speak, but you’re already turning and gesturing to your sad attempt at making pie.

“I know it’s not much, but happy birthday.”

Driver goes still and steps to your side to stare down at the misshapen dough. Apple juice and sugar have bubbled to the top, caramelizing into crispy, golden puddles. The expression on his face is almost too fragile to put a name to.

“How did you know?” The words he utters are barely more than a whisper.

“Shannon. He told me this afternoon.”

There’s a pause before he speaks, voice laden with helpless affection, “’Course he did.”

You feel like you’re about to fall over the edge of some unseen precipice. Vertifo threatens to overwhelm you. Shakily, you set to work carving Driver out a slice a pie. The mess you deposit on the plate could pass as a crime scene. You’re careful not to meet his eyes as he takes the plate from you after discarding his jacket onto the counter, covering up his keys.

The kitchen is filled with the low groan of the fridge kicking on. There’s the sudden whoosh of water darting through the pipes when one of the neighbors overhead turns on their sink. The scrape of the stunt driver’s fork is loud enough to echo in your mind while you stare at the glistening mixture in the pie pan still clinging to the void where the slice had been. Your chest feels tight. The lump in your throat is persistent.

Driver sets his plate on the counter with a soft clatter. A cautious glance reveals that it’s empty. He’d all but licked it clean.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet. Tender.

It’s tender enough that you look at him. That familiarly crooked smile is tugging at his lips. He reaches for you. Warm fingers brush against your side as he crowds into your space. The fabric of your shirt hardly feels like a barrier.

You barely get a breath out before he’s kissing you. He tastes like sugar and the cloying sweetness of baked apples. It’s all you can do to find his arms and hold onto him like the lifeline he’s come to be. He is sturdy underneath your clinging hands.

Much to your displeasure, Driver pulls back. He stays close enough that his nose brushes yours as his eyes seem to be searching yours for an answer to an unspoken question. Tension leaves his face as he finds it.

“Thank you for…” he lets the rest of the sentence die out, breath hitching in response to your touch.

Your hands slide over his biceps on their journey upwards. One takes residence on his shoulder while the other slips between his shoulder blades. Your fingers find their way into the short hair at his nape.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you respond and press your mouth against his in another kiss.

Eagerly, he accepts the affection. He sways on his feet, chasing after you when you break the contact. His lips brush over your cheek and you stop him in his tracks with a light touch on his sternum before taking his hand. His calloused fingers intertwine easily with yours as you lead him in the direction of your bedroom.

There is still some time before his birthday is officially over. You want to make the most of it.

Do not repost, copy, or reproduce my work to other sites or in other media formats. Do not use it for anything to do with AI. Thank you.

#drive (2011)#drive 2011 #drive 2011 fanfiction #ryan gosling #driver #driver x reader #x reader #.my posts #.my work

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satanicspinosaurus · 1 year ago

Text

No Effort Without Error

Tags: hurt/ comfort, established relationship, post-game, Astarion X G/N Tav, they/them pronouns, bard!Tav, BDSM, kink negotiations, scene negotiations, sub Astarion, enthusiastic consent, collaring, accidental triggering, freeze trauma response, trauma spiral self-narration, confusion between abuser and partner, use of safeword, use of safeword by Dom, supportive partner, aftercare, use of mage hand to respect boundaries, Addams family reference, talking through emotions, author tried to do some themes or something, author’s happily married & wants you to know that having severe trauma doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy relationship, author/Tav believes in people’s ability to grow, Astarion is in process of agreeing, Tav started out as kind of a blank slank character and ooops I contextualized them, kissing

Length: 4k

Rating: Mature

Read on A03: here.

Summary: Astarion is accidentally triggered in a scene, after being really excited about trying something new, and Tav provides comfort as they reaffirm their relationship. I’ve tried to tag everything, but if you have questions please just shoot me a message. I’m always happy to try and help people engage with challenging media.

With thanks: To the wonderful @just-a-refrigerator for proof-reading this! It was incredibly helpful during writing to know I’d have a pair of eyeballs to comb this over before it went out. You are amazing and helped me grow as a writer. (And a general thanks to the Astarion Brainrot Discord Server. You all are feral and I love it.🖤)

•── ⋆⋅☾☆☽⋅⋆ ──•

A bard was a solid choice for a traveling companion, Astarion reasoned, if one’s goal was to start living again. He and Tav had spent only a short amount of time in Baldur’s Gate before hitting the road again. They were eager to find out what fortunes and wonders lay ahead of them as they chased a solution to the sunshine problem.

Their time together since the Nautiloid crash had been enriching in more ways than just coin. Tav’s ability to entertain patrons and convince Innkeepers to allow the couple to stay for free was instrumental in keeping them in finer beds. Astarion also never missed an opportunity to joke about Tav’s sword swallowing ability after the crowd finished cheering. In part because the bard never took it as an actual advance.

Maybe that was what made it easy to be in their company. The understanding that one could play a role without it touching something deep or hidden in them. Sometimes, beautiful people just wanted to lay down innuendo without it being leveraged as a secret sign of trauma against them. Tav would just chuckle, as they did today, and escort Astarion to their accommodations.

The door opened without protest. With a quick flick of the wrist, Tav was shucking off layers and handing them to the mage hand they had dubbed Thing. The little clawed creature didn’t seem to loyally return after dropping Tav’s weapons in the corner, instead cheekily hovering by Astarion and gesturing to help him with his coat. Astarion didn’t really buy that Thing was its own being, like the bard liked to claim. But the little helpful gestures it did touched him enough to have even the snippy vampire giving a polite nod of thanks as Thing ferried his coat away for him.

“What do you think of the room?” Tav asked as they pulled off their boots, eyeing them carefully for wear.

Astarion looked around and shrugged. It was acceptable. Probably the best Inn this middling city had. “It has a private bath.” he eventually surmised. “And art that doesn’t immediately make me want to claw my eyes out.”

Tav made a soft sound of acknowledgment. “I might drop off my shoes to the cobbler tomorrow, then. I do not like how this heel is feeling.”

“We should offload some of the plunder,” Astarion added. “It’s been a while and I don’t want to risk anything.”

The new bag of holding was a Godsend really, but Astarion wasn’t eager to overload it and send its contents into the Astral plane. Considering how sticky both of their hands were, it was a real possibility.

“What do we even have in there now?” Tav asked. “Maybe just start with jewelry? I saw some sign in Elvish saying there was a jeweler’s when we came in today. They would give you a good price.”

Astarion snorted. Tav was shameless about flirting their way to profit. They treated it like combat: sometimes, the pale elf would be irresistible and wildly effective. Other times, Tav would draw the spotlight to themselves and handle it solo.

He retrieved the leather bag from the closet, and undid the closure with ease. He tipped over the enchanted leather, bidding it to dump all the jewelry it contained onto the bed. A hodge-podge of trinkets and amulets rained down. Rings so heavy they pressed into the sheets, a fine wrought golden belt of coins, and some uncut gems topped their little hoard of treasure. Astarion had already begun looking through the pieces when, after a small pause, the bag deposited a dog collar with a detailed metal tag onto the bed.

Tav chuckled, “I suppose the bag thinks we could get coin for the tag.”

They picked it up and turned it over in their hand. It was fine dark dyed leather, with matching lambskin on the interior. Something a noble would commission for a beloved pet. Perhaps a dalmatian, considering the use of contrast white stitching and its generous size. It had been a bizarre find, part of a cache they hurriedly pushed into the bag a few weeks ago. They had completely forgotten about it an hour later, when Astarion’s knife found the back of an Oathbreaker and failed to kill her instantly.

Astarion glanced over. “It won’t sell for much,” he said in a fairly measured tone. “Not compared to the rest.”

The lack of lilt made Tav perk up and flick their brown eyes over to Astarion. A few months ago, perhaps, he would have busied himself. Made a show of checking over other items to hide from the thoughts that had bubbled up into his head. But things were different now. The two of them had history. Trust was building.Those thoughts didn’t have to live in the shadows anymore.

It was clear he was thinking of other uses for it.

“I suppose it would look rather dashing on me,” Tav offered.

They brushed aside a few dreads from their neck, enjoying the way Astarion looked over the exposed area with a specific type of hunger. But when Tav brought up the collar to loosely display it, the vampire paused.

“Of course, my dear,” he finally agreed. “But I thought perhaps- I could try it this time?”

Tav lit up at the way a soft blush tinged Astarion’s ears. Neither of them had many direct restrictions on playtime. Both of them were fairly consummate omnivores when it came to that sort of desire. Between them, though, Astarion tended to default to being active and in control. But recently, his need to be in control had given way to a need to enjoy life.

Tav nodded, letting a warm smile bloom on their face. “What are you thinking?” they asked, holding onto the collar for the moment.

“We don’t have any other obligations for the night,” Astarion pointed out. “It could be…fun to have all my needs taken care of for me.”

They had done that a few times, but in reverse. Astarion really could be quite sweet and giving when no one was watching. He was also shameless at times. He enjoyed forcing his love to eat from the ground, then pull the make-shift leash forward to allow them to use their mouth a bit higher up.

“I would enjoy that,” Tav said. “Anything specific?”

Astarion was already tossing the other items back into the bag. He was eager, thinking of the last time he had allowed himself to submit to Tav’s creativity and generosity in bed.

“Feed me, clean me, and bed me,” he listed out. “Tell me when I’ve been good but also don’t be afraid to pull me around by the ring on the collar if I’m not.”

“Anything else if you are naughty?” Tav pressed.

“No kicks,” Astarion added quickly. “I don’t mind a light spanking, but I don’t want to be back handed tonight.”

Tav reached out and offered a hand for Astarion to nuzzle into. They noticed that the elf let his ear brush their hand, and they took up the implicit offer to gently stroke the base- delighting in the little shiver it caused.

“You want to be my beloved pet tonight.” Tav summarized. “You want to submit and to be cared for and to feel how you are the center of my world.”

They could feel Astarion beginning to melt into them, trusting the weight of his head into their hand. Tav kept stroking that delicate piece of flesh and delighting in how it made him hood his eyes in pleasure.

“Unfair,” Astarion whined with no true complaint in his heart. “I think you’ve already started.”

Tav chuckled, as if they were afraid too loud of a sound would spook their lover’s relaxation. “Don’t tell anyone- but I am quite fond of you. It is embarrassing really. It used to be a part time hobby, but I do believe I’ve gone at least to full time now.”

Maybe traveling with Tav was easy, because they brought laughter to Astarion’s world. From gallows humor to little moments like this- where the two of them brushed fingers together and laughed quietly about how absurdly cheesy it all was.

It was a sound that had begun to settle in Astarion’s bones.

“Well, let me strip first, before you start,” Astarion eventually said. “Keep yours on for now.”

Tav rolled their eyes as Astarion began husking off layers. “Bossy little thing,” they laughed, shaking their head theatrically enough their earring tinkled in agreement.

“Oh, but think about how wonderful I’ll be, properly trained,” Astarion said as he struggled to unlace his pants. A clear bulge was making the task more difficult.

“Might have to commission a matching leash then,” Tav mused. “I bet you would look so lovely crawling up to me.”

“Ugh, stop winding me up. At least until I’m out of these damned pants,” Astarion complained like he hadn’t told the tailor to make them this tight. “Damn things look good, but I regret them every time I have to take them off.”

Tav chuckled, but obeyed the request- delighting in watching his lover squirm out of very tight trousers on the ground, his thick thighs working against him half the time. There wasn’t an inch of Astarion they didn’t adore, but in that moment it was hard not to think about how deliciously long his legs were- how many wonderful options they offered for Tav to touch and nibble on.

Eventually, smallclothes went flying. All that was left was one very excited vampire kneeling in front of Tav. The delicious blush on his chest wasn’t even remotely the only visual example of his excitement. But it was glorious to think how that tinge on his pale chest was only possible because Astarion was fed well enough. For Tav to realize that they were responsible for both the physical ability to do so and the emotions that inspired it.

“What’s your word, love?” they asked.

For a while the vampire had sassed them each time they had asked. But now it was just part of the game. It inspired anticipation. Like an orchestra tuning up to let the audience know the show was about to start.

“Goose,” Astarion replied, preening under the nod Tav gave them.

“Alright then, my pet,” Tav said, holding out the collar. “Just lean forward, let me collar you, and we will begin.”

The lining felt pleasantly soft on Astarion’s skin. He helped Tav place it on him by eagerly offering his neck. The bard’s nimble fingers latched it, then slipped between Astarion’s throat and the collar to check for fit.

The second that finger left, moving upwards with its friends to run through his curls with all the affection he knew Tav had for him, Astarion realized how cold the room was.

“Look at you, my good boy,” Tav murmured. They focused on gently using their long nails to scratch at Astarion’s scalp in a way that usually sent tingles down his spine.

His body did move- shaking on little of its own accord. The weight of the collar was pressing down on him, trapping him in his own skin and away from the moment. Something in his brain whispered not to blink, not to look away- something was coming. Something bad. He was trapped, but at least he could have the privilege of watching it hurt him. But only if he didn’t close his eyes.

“Astarion?”

The sound was a little muffled, a little nasally. He needed to respond, right? Those were his the rules. He had to obey in all things; he was his? Theirs? To have your name called was a direct command to look. He needed to look at him them.

But Astarion couldn’t force his neck to turn, to face the situation. To realize the gravity of it all. The knowledge that pain would come, that it would be his fault because he still couldn’t look, turned the fine shivers into full tremors.

“Alright. OK. This is OK,” came the voice. “I’m going to use ‘goose’. I’ll keep you safe Astarion. I promise.”

Dissociation was a thing Astarion still struggled with. This was the opposite of that, somehow. He wasn’t far away, present but not here- safe in a manner of speaking by retreating into his own mind. No, he was nailed to the spot, trapped under the surface of his skin- forced to feel, to accept, but not to act.

He was entombed in his own body. His only company was the fear of being left to suffer.

“This needs to come off,” he heard, the voice sounding like it was coming through gauze. “I am going to use my hands to take this off you, Astarion. You might feel it press on the back of your neck for a second.”

The weight lifted away, the sound of the tag sickly singing as it was tossed to some other corner of the room. He was supposed to breathe, right?

“Do you want me to touch you, Astarion?”

The thought of being trapped, being forced to be complicit in his own abuse, sent a spark of anger up into his mouth. But it was fanned by a vague feeling that he could speak his mind without fear of being slapped down.

“No,” Astarion hissed. “Get away from me!”

He needed space. He needed to feel he was at least as big as the body that trapped him.

“Of course. Of course love, I will not touch you until you tell me to,” came the calm response. “You are shivering. Do you want a blanket?”

Was he? Astarion looked down. His eyes struggled to focus on a hand. His hand, he remembered as he flexed it. Yes, it was shaking. His gaze wandered up the arm his hand was attached to.The forearm was goose-fleshed.

“Yes,” he decided. “I want to be warm.”

The smell of familiar magic- rose oil and iron- filled the room. There were some assorted sounds- footsteps, pillows hitting the ground- and then a familiar shadowy hand presented a quilt it could barely hold in its claws.

“Thing can help you put it on, if you want Astarion,” offered the bard.

Astarion nodded. Thing T. Thing was a familiar, safe sight now. It was always gentle, as it was now, laying the blanket onto his shoulders but bearing the weight so Astarion could sort it out the way he wanted it- creating a barrier between him and the world.

“Thank you, Thing,” he replied automatically.

The room came back to him after a few minutes. It wasn’t exactly fair to say it left, but it took time for his brain to be able to accept and process the world around him instead of hyper-fixating on keeping himself alive. He had to consciously realize that there was ground for him to be sitting on. That the ground probably came with a ceiling as there was no free-moving air.

Eventually, he realized there was also the gentle sound of a violin, singing a song.

It was one with no words Just swimming melodies, occasionally crowned by a happy chord. It helped Astarion remember. He’d heard an elven mother humming it to her child a few moons ago, as the babe cried from the pain of teeth coming in. He automatically focused on it. Tav asked him if he knew it, and Astarion had responded honestly- all of that was lost to him now. But he liked how comforting it sounded.

Weeks later, when Astarion was having trouble resting during the peak of the day while the rest of their temporary party laughed in the sun, Tav sat next to him and, without a word, began playing it.

Maybe that was why traveling with Tav was so easy. They were confident of their own beautiful voice- able to hold a room and charm even frigid, scared hearts that had long since stopped beating to movement. But they were also comfortable around others' painful silence, welcoming it like an old lover- with an open heart and a compliment that was somehow always genuine.

It had worn on Astarion for a long time, waiting for the bard to blink and finally admit they were in over their head- that the would-be savior’s reach had finally exceeded their grasp. But eventually, Tav showed him their own scars. He had lifted his hand to a small one on their right eyebrow and cheek. The first one. One that even Astarion’s clever eyes could barely see.

Eventually Astarion learned they kept their eyes kind and open, not because they didn’t know what danger was, but in spite of it.

Maybe that’s why it was so easy traveling with Tav. Because, somewhere along the way, Astarion had figured out their hero persona had cracks. Cracks they had delicately, skillfully tried to cover. Cracks he could help smooth out sometimes, when someone misgendered them or an enemy carried a whip. Cracks that, deep down, under the near unshakeable confidence performers have, Tav feared made them unlovable. But Astarion could say those cracks were nothing compared to their jovial spirit or clever eyes.

Astarion yearned for those warm, brown eyes. The kind that reminded him of dark soil deep in the forest, filled with all the richness and potential of creation. Speckled with a million curiosities that shallow people might miss by focusing on the strong cheekbones or soft lips nearby. He found them waiting for him, like always, hopeful they could be of any service.

“I want you to touch me, Tav,” Astarion realized out loud.

The bard laid their violin down and tapped the bed, offering the space. “It might do you some good to move your limbs,” they suggested. “But I am always happy to come to you.”

Astarion looked at the ground. Yes, he could move. The walls weren’t quite so close to prevent that. The floorboards creaked in protest as he dragged himself and his blanket over them.

He sank into the bed, deciding to lean on Tav’s shoulder. Maybe it helped a bit to realize this pinned down one of their arms- keeping them close, but less able to respond. It was grounding to remember that so many things were on Astarion’s terms now. Yes, because he was free.

But also because Tav was gentle and would never deny him a single comfort.

Little thoughts began to swim in his head- phrases he could pluck from the ether and begin a conversation with. I didn’t know, please believe me. I am sorry, please don’t punish me. Please don’t leave me. Please promise you’ll trust me again when I say I want this. Please tell me I am not broken.

Please, please, please- a choir of hungry ghosts that had long grown tired of asking to have not been hurt, and instead found smaller and smaller requests to be disappointed on. Until Tav came in with their bleeding heart, and fed them so graciously Astarion could begin to remember they were just specters he carried- and not him.

Astarion didn’t have to bargain with them. He suspected they would always be there. But now he could let them rest and find other things to play with that would nourish his soul.

“I really wanted it,” Astarion finally said, after his hand traced patterns on Tav’s thigh for a few minutes.

“I know,” Tav agreed. “You’ve gotten very good at asking for things and letting yourself have them.”

The bard paused and offered their palm. “May I kiss you?”

They smiled when Astarion granted them the privilege of a hand, bowing their head to press a slow kiss on the back of his hand.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” they said, not having moved an inch. Their breath was warm as they spoke, fluttering on Astarion’s hand.

There was something about the way they said it, that Astarion instantly knew they meant after he had been collared. He frowned, not sure how to take it.

Astarion didn’t want to think the truest core of him was scared. That if someone unearthed him, or that if he let someone dig deep, there would be only fear and broken things to find.

“I don’t know if I want you to think of me like that,” he began. “Like some cold and timid person, half ready to cry when he’s finally, truly naked.”

Tav sat back up, offering for Astarion to reclaim his resting spot on their shoulder or duck under and be held close. The elf chose the latter, enjoying the space between ribs and arms made strong by swordplay and silly acrobatics.

“I do not think of you like that.” Tav promised.

Astarion accepted the answer- a simple negative that painted him as so many other wonderful things that even Tav’s silver tongue couldn’t explain. The bard was so trusting towards him, at times it was infectious.

A thought tickled Astarion’s brain.

“Thank you for using the safeword,” he mumbled. “It’s good to know that it’s not that I wasn’t being pleasing enough for you. But that…maybe me being truly hurt wasn’t something you wanted.”

Tav showed their other hand coming slowly to join the other one- pausing, giving Astarion a chance to defend his space- to deny being boxed in, even by affection, if it was unwanted.

“I hear vampires are long-lived,” Tav eventually said. “I would suspect that given our adventurousness, it will not be the last time one of us has to use it. Even if you never wanted to do anything like that again, I want you to know that you can always tell me to stop.”

Astarion hummed, accepting the point. He chewed on it though, especially the last sentence.

“I don’t think you exactly need a safeword for life,” he retorted.

Tav laughed, clear and bright. “Your passions are too great, Astarion, to be content with what is laid at your feet. That is one of the things I love about you. You go for life’s throat, even if you might stumble in the process.”

There was mirth in their eyes as they thought about some future Astarion couldn’t really see. “I just want you to chase it as hard as you can. You know I’ll be here to try and catch you when you ask for it.”

They stayed like that for a while- Astarion enjoying the way Tav just breathed, their ribs slightly pressing into him with each breath. His eyes wandered, surveying the room. The way Thing rested in the corner, eager to be called upon. The happy trail of his own clothes strewn on the floor. The way the collar rested on the nightstand- far enough away to be safe, but precious enough to deserve a proper spot.

He would have to think later if this was a failure or not. Something deep in his gut churned, insisting it was. Astarion wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to it. But the way Tav held him in the moment, devoted and without reservation- he knew this was safe.

Astarion leaned to catch his beloved's mouth, to taste their enthusiasm, their softness as Tav allowed him to devour them- trusting him to take the lead and find joy for them both in the fragile, uneasy moment.

Maybe that was why traveling with Tav was simple. Because they knew their love was a verb, and not something that was found in a single heart. It was not something that could be tainted by a single word, or broken by even a terrifyingly, truly unintentional slight.

It was something they did together- even if they sometimes accidentally stumbled in the process.

One of them got to be the first person that hour to say I love you. And the other one got to smile and chose to say it back.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Author Notes: Thank you for reading this! As always, I would like to remind you thirsty folks to hydrate a bit if needed. :3 I’d also love to hear if you had any comments or thoughts about this piece. (Good or bad! If something didn’t hit, let me know.) Also- just curious if you HCed which person said “I love you first” (and why) I would love to hear about it. I do have a small follow-up planned thanks to our Discord talking about *boots* that will be in a similar vibe. And one about Tav having their own issues for Astarion to help them on! I didn’t plan to add another, usual character to my WIP list, but this they/them bard!Tav was super fun to write.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #SpinoWrites #kink is cool and fun #author rejects the idea that people are broken #author wants you to keep growing

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woooyeahbaby · 1 year ago

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Can’t Forget Mammon!

warnings: mammon being jealous, mc is gender neutral (meaning i didn’t even use any pronouns for mc here i write in 2nd person), mammon may be out of character i’m so sorry, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR OBEY ME I’M ACTUALLY REALLY SCARED TO POST THIS HELP, mention of mc kissing asmo

a/n i think i’ll cry if i receive any negative feedback on this one guys you need to think of me as someone who is constantly on the verge of tears. also i wrote this at 5am with no sleep but i don’t think i made any errors! this is pretty short btw

you helped lucifer organize some documents this morning, no big deal. you played games with leviathan later, again, nothing important. read a book with satan, that took quite a while… went shopping with asmodeus after, okay… had lunch with beelzebub, didn’t take too long. and finally, cuddled with belphegor for a while.

where was mammon’s time with you?

don’t think mammon didn’t notice that you spent all day with his brothers instead of him! he couldn’t stop thinking about it. just as he thought he’d get a little attention from you, you’d be heading for another person.

so of course he had to have a conversation with you before you went to bed that night. he caught you in the kitchen, having a quick snack before bed. perfect.

“hey, mc! haven’t seen ya much today!” mammon grins, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“oh, hey mammon. sorry i didn’t get to hang out with you today, maybe tomorrow, alright?” you offer before walking away, letting his hand fall from your shoulder.

umm, no.

“hey now!” he nearly shouts. “get back here. i deserve my time with ya!”

“mammon, i’m tired. i wanna go to bed.” you sigh, walking back towards him. you take his hand. “i promise we can do something tomorrow.”

“i’ll just go to bed with ya!” mammon squeezes your hand.

“that might give the others the wrong idea…” you laugh softly after your sentence.

“i don’t care! they can think aaaall they want about it, all i wanna do is cuddle with ya, hm? how’s that sound? good? let’s go then!” he doesn’t even give you time to respond before he’s dragging you to your room.

you decide not to fight him on it, since you weren’t really opposed to the thought of cuddling him to sleep. plus, it’d save you from an even clingier mammon the next day.

you two reach your bedroom and mammon plops down on your bed, his grip on your hand sending you down with him. fortunately, you don’t land roughly. in fact, you land perfectly on your bed. you could sleep like this already. oh, right.

“mammon, i need to brush my teeth. just sit here for a couple minutes, okay?” you inform him as you stand up, and he lets your hand escape his. however you don’t expect him to follow you into your bathroom. “mammon.”

“mhm?” he hums as if he has no idea what he’s doing. typical mammon.

“you absolutely need to watch me brush my teeth?” despite your sarcasm, you’re already getting your toothbrush ready.

“you’d let lucifer watch ya, why can’t i?” he crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

“..can we talk about this when i’m done, please?” you ask, not giving him time to say no before you’re shoving your toothbrush in your mouth.

mammon mumbles a ‘fine’, standing behind you as you brush your teeth. as he waits for a torturous two whole minutes, he mainly just fidgets with his hands and glances up at you. once you’re done, he’s walking to your bed, lying down on his back and patting the empty space next to him.

you face him when you lie down, and he just stares at you expectantly. it takes you a second to remember.

“oh, right. mammon, you know i didn’t mean to ignore you today. everyone else just kept me so busy.” you reach out a hand to caress his face lovingly.

“it coulda been me keepin’ ya busy, but nooo…” mammon rolls his eyes, leaning into your touch despite his rude attitude.

“remember that i can kick you out of here any time i’d like.” you threaten him jokingly. “i swear, mammon. i wanted to get to you but everybody just.. got in my way. i can dedicate my whole day to you tomorrow, i’ll even start it now.”

“i accept. you so much as even text someone that ain’t me though, i’ll be lockin’ ya in my room!” he replies with his own threat.

“okay. tomorrow is aaaall you, mammon.” you just smile at him and give him a kiss on the cheek, your hand moving to his hair.

he seems to enjoy it, letting you play with his hair as he just stares at you lovingly. then his facial expression changes back to the ‘i want to look angry at you, but i’m really not’ one. oh man.

“so asmo gets a kiss on the lips, but i—”

“oh, shut up, mammon.” you roll your eyes, kissing him on the lips to shut him up.

it definitely works! how could he complain?

mammon reaches a hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him. he doesn’t want to let you go, not even for a second. every time he feels you trying to pull away, he just chases after your lips with his own. this is usually how kissing mammon is, he is the avatar of greed after all.

it’s only until both of you can barely breathe that he pulls away, his grip on your waist tightening. you both just look at each other for a few seconds, until you both burst out laughing. as you laugh, you lean your head into mammon’s chest, and once his own laughter dies down he rests his chin atop your head.

mammon sighs softly, pulling your head back so you could look at each other. you see him admiring your facial features before he speaks.

“can you turn around? we can spoon, just like ya did with belphie… when it should’ve been me, but whatever.” the last part of his sentence is quieter, more of a mumble.

in response, you just scoff and turn around so you and mammon are facing the same way. he wraps his arm around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath tickles you at first, until you get used to it. your back is pressed tightly against his chest, so much so that you can feel his heartbeat.

he gently kisses your neck a few times, but not like the seductive ones you usually get from him. these have plenty of love behind them. it’s so comforting.

“all me tomorrow, yeah?”

quick after fic note! if you like my writing i take requests!!! please send me requests

#mammon fluff #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me #obey me fanfic

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indigo-a-creeping · 4 months ago

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Hi again, it’s me back at it again with the top surgery questions. I’m sorry to ask so many questions and bother you but you’ve been a big help to me, so if you are willing to answer, I’m going to ask as long as you don’t mind. (Feel free to ignore if I ask questions you are comfortable answering)

I’m curious what you told your work in terms of needing time off. Did you tell them everything or keep it simple and say you were getting surgery and needed this much time off or something similar? I’m also curious how much time you took off and how easy it was to get that time off? I don’t know what to tell my job. In an ideal world I would keep it as vague as possible but it will be noticeable once I have the surgery as I have a large chest. (In an ideal world they would actually just be accepting if I told them I was non binary and there would be nothing to worry about but still) I also don’t even know if I’m supposed to talk to HR first or if I can just talk to my boss as my boss is usually the only person I need to talk to when I take time off. I’m going to look at my company’s policies tomorrow. But I’m also debating between asking for two weeks off or three after the surgery so I was curious what your experience was.

I'm always happy to answer what questions I can, friend! You're not bothering me.

So I work for a company that's got pretty notorious liberal leanings. There was a trans guy working there when I started, and I quietly observed how supportive all the management was of him, how kind and understanding and accepting they all were.

You don't legally have to explain any medical things to your work, but I went to my boss and explained exactly what I was doing long before it came up, and he and the assistant managers all made sure I got my leave officially approved, and talked me through the process of getting short-term disability pay. They checked in with me while I was recovering, were patient while I recovered, and made sure I knew I'd still have a job when I came back. They took me back as soon as my surgeon approved it, on transitional duty (which is just slightly less heavy lifting) for the first month just in case. If I had needed more time, they would have absolutely given it to me. If I needed more restrictions to work, they would have worked with me. They asked me about pronouns a few times, to make sure they were using the right ones even though I don't remember my own a lot of the time and all the customers call me she/her/ma'am. I don't know why I thought that would change, but it definitely didn't. I have a really good work environment. (I also scheduled surgery during our slow time of year, which I didn't need to do, but I wanted to) Do you trust your boss? Do you know how they are with queer people in general? With trans people specifically? Are you very familiar with the HR department? Definitely check your company's policies! We have specific paperwork that lists all the physical requirements for work (make sure you pay attention to more than just weight restrictions).

One of my friends who had top surgery told his work he was getting shoulder surgery, which may be an option depending on your shape, attire, and how close people get to you. The thought of claiming breast cancer crossed my mind early on, but I wasn't comfortable lying about that and I wouldn't recommend it. Again, legally you don't have to tell them any specifics, but it's something to think about with something that's visible.

My surgeon said I could lift up to 25 lbs at 3 weeks after surgery, and in my experience I could lift a little more than that at the time (I was probably lifting close to that at 1 week)... but I couldn't lift my elbows above my head, and couldn't carry any weight at that height, so I took 6 weeks, at which point I wasn't completely at 100% capacity but I was able to do my job. If you work a desk job, 3 weeks is fine. 2 is probably fine too. Don't hesitate to ask for more though.

#top surgery #top surgery advice

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

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just a little sneak peek from the bear fic that has consumed my brain for the past few days

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

a/n: hi hello this is just a preview. i wasn't going to write a fic about hulu/fx's the bear, and this story has taken over my brain. i also made reader a pastry chef and um... well, clearly so has everyone else, so while i'm hopelessly unoriginal, please enjoy. i'm hoping to post the full ch. 1 tomorrow. if you haven't watched the bear, this show if exceptional but heavy.

“Well, man, I’m glad to hear you’re doing alright. Sorry I haven’t called. Things at the restaurant have been… well you know how it goes,” Carmy’s old sous chef explains, a sigh of exhaustion escaping his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. No, I-, you called now. Yeah… I uh, never thought I’d be here but… things are…” Carmy trails off.

“Yeah.”

And then there’s quiet. It’s almost as if his old sous is waiting for him to ask the question – the question they both know he’s been asking in every silence, every pregnant pause left between them.

Carmy weighs his options. He doesn’t know why it feels like he’s showing his whole hand if he asks if he asks about you. Not like anyone in the kitchen didn’t notice.

You were best friends after all. Spent all your time together.

Inseparable.

And then there was that night.

The night you both agreed to forget but one he can’t seem to.

He wonders if you think about it too.

And now? Now that the fog is starting to clear… now that the restaurant has a little money… and he can think for a fuckin’ second….

“How’s uh… how is she?” Carmy finally manages to get out.

“You haven’t heard?” his sous asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

Carmy is silent for a moment, his head swimming with anxiety. What was he going to say? Carmy braced himself to be metaphorically punched in the gut, waiting for what came next. Why was he so sure that whatever his sous said would upset him?

“Uh-, um, no I-. We haven’t talked much since I came home.”

“Ahhh.”

Another silence, before the man on the other line clears his throat before continuing with, “Yeah, she uh, well you’ll never believe it but she quit.”

“She what?!”

“Yeah, I think everyone was just as surprised, man. Something about being burnt out and needing some time to find-, well, I don’t know but…” he trails off. He knows that any advice that he gives Carmy will not only be unsolicited, but that there’s a slim chance he’ll actually take it. “Restaurant keeps saying she’s taking a sabbatical. Think they’re still hoping she’ll come back.”

“You should give her a call.”

And it’s as if Carmy can’t get off the phone fast enough.

“Yeah, I uh-, thanks man. It was really good talking to you.”

And that’s how you ended up here, at six fuckin’ o clock in the morning.

Chicago isn’t as hot as NYC in the summer. But the heat — or lack there of — isn’t why you’re here either.

Honestly, you’re not sure why the hell you’re here.

Get out of dodge. Something about needing to find meaning. Because you could never really say ‘no’ to Carmy.

Because… Carmy.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white

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arecaceae175 · 1 year ago

Note

👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾

👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾

👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾

🚀

I'll write one sentence of a fic for every emoji in my inbox (until tomorrow 9AM EST)

I added 3 sentences, 28 words to the gift raffle fic

AND 61 sentences, 509 words to Authenticity, which I forgot to put on the list! So here's a short pride-themed chapter for Authenticity! I'm also counting this as today's pride month drabble.

Summary: Wild and Warriors spar. Warriors learns something new about Wild.

My gender and sexuality experience is directly related to my autism, and now so is Wild’s!!! :D. 509 words, fluff and dialogue

Wild lowered his sword carefully. His muscles felt warm and he was breathing hard from the exercise. It felt good.

“Nicely done. You catch on quick,” Warriors said.

Warriors was teaching Wild some sword drills at Wild’s request. Wild had gotten a vague memory of sword drills recently; he didn’t remember much detail, but he knew the repetitiveness of the exercise was calming.

“Might be muscle memory,” Wild said with a shrug. “Plus, they’re patterns, which I’m good at.”

Warriors smiled. “That you are.”

Wild was about to sheath his sword when Warriors spoke again.

“How about a spar?” Warriors asked. Wild looked up in surprise.

“Spar?” Wild asked.

“Yeah, you know. Old-fashioned practice fight, man to man. We won’t actually hurt each other, but it’s good practice,” Warriors said.

“Can it be man to person?” Wild asked.

Warriors’ head cocked to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not a man, so can the fight be man to person? Or is that against the rules,” Wild said.

“You’re not… Wild, are you coming out to me?” Warriors asked. He lowered his sword and stepped closer to Wild.

“Oh,” Wild said. He felt heat bloom across his cheeks and he knew his ears were going bright pink. He was so comfortable in his identity, and everyone in his Hyrule already knew. It must have slipped his mind to tell the others.

“I guess I forgot to mention that,” Wild said. He shook his free hand to get out the awkward feelings and began swaying side to side.

“Have we been using the wrong pronouns? I’m sorry I ever offended you in any way,” Warriors said.

“No, no, you’re fine. I still use he/him. I don’t feel any sort of connection to gender, and changing pronouns sounds too hard and scary, so I just use he/him,” Wild explained.

“Are you sure? If you’re worried it would be too hard for us, don’t. It should be about whatever you’re most comfortable with,” Warriors said.

Wild smiled and shook his head. “Trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot. Flora tried some others for me, and the change felt wrong. I use he/him, but I’m still not a man. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” Warriors said immediately. Wild felt his smile grow and a warm, happy feeling replace the tightness in his chest from the stress of having to explain his inner feelings.

“I’m actually trans, too,” Warriors said.

Wild perked up. “Really?”

Warriors chuckled and nodded. “Sure am. Trans man,” Warriors said.

“Cool!” Wild said. Warriors chuckled again.

“Now, how about that spar? Man to person,” Warriors said.

“You’re going to regret this,” Wild said. He was only joking, which Warriors caught on to. Warriors bent his knees and got into an attacking position.

“I don’t think so. You’re going down,” Warriors taunted jokingly.

Wild brought his sword back up and easily fell into a stance his body remembered more than his mind did. He took a deep breath to center himself, then lunged forward into battle.

#ace writes #authenticity #pride month drabbles #happy pride 🌈#linked universe #lu wild #lu warriors

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absentcaryatid · 1 year ago

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Mountain Choi

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

While traveling for work you make the intimate acquaintance of a man you come to learn a little too late is in a career adjacent to your own.

2.2K words, Content note: gender neutral reader, no pronouns used for the reader, alcohol (presumed), sex occurs but is only lightly described, bar and boxing ring setting, mention of the couple later having children. San's explanation near the end about his name's meaning is a direct quote from a KQ Entertainment interview pre-debut.

“What do you do?”

The handsome man who had joined you at the bar had the emotional control of a seasoned performer. His slight grimace at your question quickly resolved into a dimpled smile. After taking a drink, he admitted, “I don’t like to talk about work.”

“Neither do I actually. It’s nice to not think about it for a night.” After that, the rest of the conversation flowed smoothly. You learned his name was San and you gave your own in return. Once it was clear there were some very strong indications of interest on both sides, you soon found yourself in his room in the hotel above enjoying his muscular body.

“I need you to know this is wildly out of character for me. I've never done anything like this before.” San's brow was creased with worry, as if you would judge him for being so into sex with a near stranger, though of course you were doing the same to as much delight.

Pausing your motion, you took his hands in yours. “San, you could fall into bed with every person you meet and I would not think any less of you. We are using condoms for STI protection and that is all that matters to me.” As his face relaxed you thought to ask, “Do you judge me for having casual sex? This ends right now if you view me negatively.”

“Oh no,” San was quick to splutter out, “quite the opposite. I like you a lot and want to make a good impression. As you can see, I'm out of practice when it comes to bedroom talk. My career has taken precedence for so long that I am extremely rusty.”

With a passionate kiss you communicated he was doing more than well enough to keep your interest and the activity resumed. Cuddled side by side in the bed while catching your breath afterward, San looked regretful despite the good time. “I’d love to have you stay the night, but I need to be rested for tomorrow.” His fingers traced your hairline in a gentle gesture before cupping your cheek for another kiss.

“I understand, it is an important day of work for me too.” You began pulling your scattered clothes on and decided to take the risk of asking for more time with the sweet man who already had a part of your heart. “Tonight has been a lot of fun. Perhaps we could continue this another time with a dinner date?”

San lit up and you exchanged numbers. “Tomorrow night too soon? I think I’ll be celebrating and your presence would make it all the better. I'm also not in town for long.”

You might have been embarrassed at how quickly you agreed to the timing, but San seemed as enthusiastic as you were. Leaving him with one last kiss, you slipped out his door to the hotel hallway, headed to your own room on the next floor.

Another guest passed you as he wobbled a little drunkenly down the hall. He did not leer, but the glance up and down taking in your semi-disheveled state was plain. “Walk of shame?”

Nobody was going to make you feel bad about the way you handled your literal affairs, and certainly not a tipsy stranger. “Walk of pride,” you gloated as you disappeared into the waiting elevator. Just as the doors began to close your voice drifted out, “He was great, and so was I.”

Wooyoung smiled to himself. He'd been urging San for years to focus on something more than training. The boxing manager sang out “Good night, San” as he passed the room he had seen you exit, then unlocked his adjoining suite.

The next day passed quickly as you waited for the title match. There was nothing much to do but stay out of the way during the crew's final preparations and emerge from your dressing room on time. Satisfied with one last look over at your outfit, you made your way toward the crowd that was abuzz with excitement.

Expertly stepping between the ropes that lined the boxing ring, you stopped a few steps apart from Mingi to keep the spotlight on him. You had worked with him a few times before and had always been impressed how good he looked in a tuxedo, even considered asking Mingi out some day, but now there was another man to have your interest. Thoughts of seeing San after work filled your head and it took some effort to return to the present. Business first, then that dinner date he had agreed to last night. Whatever he might be celebrating, you would be marking a milestone too with your first televised match as a referee.

Holding the microphone that had descended into the center of the mat, the announcer's deep voice delivered with style. “In this corner we have the one, the only, Brute Yunho hailing from Gwangju up against the pride of Namhae, Mountain Choi here to defend his world title.” Mingi swept his hand from one corner of the ring to the other, catching the way you paled as the latter competitor came into view.

As the audience went wild, in strolled the man you had just spent the night with flanked by his trainer Hongjoong and manager Wooyoung. Quite the pro, San managed to keep any reaction to himself, but Wooyoung openly gaped in surprise before he whispered to a wide-eyed Hongjoong how he recognized you.

Theatrical as boxing could be with all the pre-match taunting, you prided yourself on working as a referee for matches that were still very real. Your impartiality would of course be called into question if an assignation with San before the fight was ever to be revealed. Knowing you had to bow out, you took the only route that your panicked mind could come up with in the moment and faked a swoon.

Yunho’s studied scowl of his sports persona vanished to be replaced with concern as you landed hard on the mat. San's trainer Hongjoong was the first to slide under the ropes as he leapt into the ring to provide assistance, and Jongho on the medical staff for the bout followed in a flash.

It was embarrassing to be carried out on a stretcher, but far easier than explaining your conflict of interest to the judges on live television. As Jongho efficiently began looking for signs of a concussion, you waved him off. The medic smirked as you sheepishly admitted you had slept with San last night not realizing who he was. “Other than the shock, I’m fine. It was a fake fall to bow out of the ref job without having to explain my reason for resigning.” You shook your head in bemusement at the situation of your own making. “He had the body of someone who works out heavily, but so do people from all sorts of careers. How was I supposed to know a boxer going by the name 'Mountain' was such a little guy?”

Jongho laughed, “Everybody in this business knows Jeong ‘The Brute’ Yunho is an absolute puppy in real life. You should be familiar with a little fudging in the name of self-promotion.”

By now the venue manager Seonghwa had arrived from his office, looking extremely anxious about your condition. For the second time tonight you had to reveal your night of passion with San and the retelling was not getting any easier.

Assured there truly had been no injury, Seonghwa too found your situation more comical than unprofessional. “I'm very glad you are okay after all. I'll pass the good news on to the judges so they won't worry. Your backup Yeosang has already taken over and we have the third ref on standby should Yeosang get an accidental punch in the line of duty. So, all that settled, do you feel like getting back out there to watch?”

“I have no wish to see someone I am already getting attached to beaten up.”

Seonghwa looked at you kindly. “Odds are on San retaining his title tonight. Yunho might be bigger, but San is tough.��

As Jongho helped you gently slide off the table in the first aid office, Seonghwa too lent a steadying hand as if unsure you really were fine. Even a stunt fall had been hard on your body. You decided to take it easy and wait for the match to end from the comfort of your dressing room. Once boisterous cheers gave notice the match had concluded, you eagerly made your way to San's own staging area.

With a handshake once Hongjoong had removed San's boxing gloves, San made a formal introduction after you convinced him you had not been injured by your stunt on the mat. “Choi San, two-time world champ as of tonight. Pleased to meet you, again.”

It was your turn to worry over San as you watched Hongjoong tut at the small number of bruises San had sustained in the fight.

“Yunho landed more punches than he should have been able to. I think you were off your game tonight.” Hongjoong meaningfully glared in your direction.

The trainer was a short man, but intense, and you shrank back. It had been a lucky thing San still triumphed tonight. From his perspective, it would have been rattling to recognize the date from the night before was the referee for his match, only to see them collapse on the spot.

Before you could apologize for the situation that had truly been accidental, Wooyoung entered the room. He was fresh off rounds of congratulations and bearing a large celebratory bouquet of flowers.

San accepted the gift from his manager then took the best rose from the bunch and handed it to you. “Neither one of us is to blame. You probably would have had to bow out after only chatting at the bar if we had talked jobs after all and you figured out my identity as one of tonight's participants. I'm glad things had the chance to go further though, and am very interested in our date tonight if you are too.”

Your nod let San know you were still up for taking him out and whatever might follow again. “So you are Choi San. The name San should have had me connecting it to the mountain in the fight. I guess I was already won over by your charms and not thinking about much else last night.”

“Your mind was on my body, as mine was on yours,” San offered with a wink and the same sultry gaze you had found irresistible the night before.

“That's it, he's punch drunk. I'm leaving.” Hongjoong grabbed Wooyoung who was watching the scene play out and hesitant to miss whatever came next, but finally followed the trainer out with a heavy sigh.

“I'm not addled from the fight, I think it is true love,” San yelled toward his exiting team. “Don't wait up for me tonight, I'll likely get back tomorrow morning. Late morning! Maybe afternoon!” He looked at you and giggled as the others fled.

It took a moment to regain the power of thought after San's declaration. Not quite ready to say 'love' in return, but almost there, you decided to steer the conversation back to a less weighty topic. “Please don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look like the hulking mountain I was picturing after seeing the fight's poster with your names.”

You found it endearing the way San's eyes crinkled as he smiled. “My father wanted me to be a comforting hill for some people, and for others, an enormous mountain they can't dare to challenge. A truly grand mountain.”

“I think it is a pretty name, and both meanings of his choice are apt too. You had the strength and determination to beat Yunho, yet also offered me a lot of comfort last night.”

Drawing closer as he held your waist, San successfully wooed you. “And I will do the same for you every night you will have me.”

It took a few more dates to seal the deal, but San did indeed live up to the softer side of his name. Taking your concern for his health to heart, he even retired early and managed a few up-and-coming boxers over the years instead. Your career as a referee continued, and you knew to stay away from accepting matches any of San's protegees were in. You even turned down a few fights Yunho was involved in from that point on. Seeing him brought back too many happy memories of the weekend you met San and you didn't want that favoritism toward Yunho to influence your calls.

Preferring to win fairly, Yunho understood, and he was just as happy to befriend you and San once learning you would not be working as referee on any of his future matches. For a man boxing under the name 'The Brute', he was an exceptionally gentle occasional babysitter for the children and grandchildren you and San raised in your long and happy life together.

Masterlist

#ATEEZ fanfic #ATEEZ fluff #Kpop fanfic #Kpop fluff #San x reader #San x you #gender neutral reader #no pronouns used for reader #diverseinsertknet #ATEEZ x gender neutral reader #Kpop x gender neutral reader

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