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survivalove · 1 year ago

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Zuko taking her on this mission was also never out of the goodness of his heart. Zuko needed Katara to forgive him, that was why he did all this. He wanted to force her to forgive him, and this shows Zuko’s complete lack of maturity. Forgiveness isn’t something you just get, it’s something that is willingly given by the person you’ve wronged. You can’t just force someone to forgive you through different actions. But Zuko thinks he can in this episode, and then uses Katara’s dead mom yet again to try and get what he wants.

I’m glad someone finally brought up how weird this episode was. Even though this post is about ship stuff, I have always found Zuko absolutely disgusting in this episode solely from an older sibling’s perspective.

He not only shouts at Katara for not forgiving him like the dense brick he is, but then goes to Sokka casually asking him to recount the worst trauma he’s ever endured. And then, he comes up with this plan for Katara….? Doesn’t even tell or at the very least invite Sokka to come along? As if Kya was not Sokka’s mother too??

This is framed so differently to the beginning of the Boiling Rock Part 1 episode where we see Sokka trying to find his dad and then Zuko joins in to help him. No demanding for forgiveness or manipulation here. Now I’m sure it helped Sokka forgive Zuko but at least we can see this was solely Sokka’s idea in the first place.

Compared to The Southern Raiders, where Zuko is actively going about this to gain Katara’s forgiveness. Katara was in no way thinking of finding this man before he came up to her. Not only that, he doesn’t even tell Sokka about this plan even though he literally used his trauma to pursue it in the first place.

Then, we see Sokka and Aang confront Zuko and Katara. At this point, Katara is fully on board and wants to go, fine. I’m not gonna discuss Aang here because that’s been talked about so many times (especially in this post 😭) but the way Sokka vehemently disagrees with this plan and has to watch Katara get manipulated for this “forgiveness mission” pissed me off soooooo much. I can’t even put into words how angry I get when I imagine myself in Sokka’s shoes:

Me opening up to someone just for them to then turn around and come up with this plan to find my mother’s killer behind my back.

Not ask me, the one who gave you this information, if it was a good idea or not.

Not ask me, the one that knows Katara better than anyone, if taking my sister to go and confront our mother’s killer was a good idea.

Not even ask me, to come along??? As if she was not my mother too?

But of course he didn’t. Because he already got what he wanted from Sokka. And it annoys me how the fandom paints Katara as a monster for what she said to Sokka, meanwhile the one who caused all this manipulation and turmoil gets away scot-free.

All Sokka is to Zuko and the writers in this episode is a means of Zuko getting the information he needed to come up with this plan and it infuriates me everytime I think about it.

"but seriously the only reason kataang was ever the less favored ship was purely because it didn’t fit people’s heteronormative standards lol. people hated the way it subverted het tropes"

I don't agree with this take for a few reasons but mainly the last one. A lot of people didn't/don't like Kataang for the way the writers wrote them, especially in the last season (mostly stemming from Aang's actions).

A few examples:

-Aang, though trying to do the right thing, brushed aside Katara's feelings, especially when it came to the Southern Raiders. (And even though he comes around at the end, instead of comforting or listening to her, he still pushes that she should forgive Yon Rha)

-He was still so immature that he took a play - written by someone who didn't know any of them - as the truth and got mad (saying he would've gone into the avatar state because of it) and then went on to get mad at Katara for words she didn't even say.

-He, again ignoring her feelings and also the words that had literally just come out of her mouth, kissed her and, when she rebuffed him, got mad again.

Somehow none of these issues were addressed. They don't have any sort of meaningful talks or moments before the comet arrives. It comes, the Gaang wins and the two of them just... kiss and the show ends.

Like, Kataang is cute and sweet and, while I personally can't look at someone who treated me like their child/treated me like I was their mother in a romantic way, they ended up together. I personally didn't want them together because Aang's actions proved that he wasn't ready for any sort of romantic relationship. Others had other reasonings, and I think pushing the narrative that people disliked Kataang solely because of "heteronormative standards" isn't fair because it isn't at all true. People just have/had a problem with the way the romance was written (some including that it fell into the cliched trope of "the hero always gets the girl") without resolving issues the writers set up earlier.

Hey, so yeah, you sent a super long anon and I am prepared to send a super long response to your claims to debunk everything you just said. So I hope you are prepared for that, otherwise you should not have sent this.

“Aang brushed aside Katara’s feelings especially when it came to the Southern Raiders”

No, Aang did not brush aside Katara’s feelings. Aang did not want Katara to go on a revenge murder mission, because he and Sokka both knew who Katara was and they also knew that this was not something Katara would be able to live with if she were to follow through with it. Katara is quick to decide she wants to kill someone, and Aang and Sokka are quick to tell her she should perhaps think on that, and they’re right. Do you actually think that the Southern Raiders paints Katara OR Zuko in a positive light? You do realize that both of them act extremely OOC and that the episode shows both of them at some of their worst behavior? Aang relates to Katara, relates to her pain over losing a mother just as he lost Gyatso and all of his people.

He is trying to reason with her, trying to make sure she isn’t going to do something she will REGRET for the rest of her life, and if you think Katara Wouldn’t regret killing Yon Rah, you’re dead wrong and know nothing about her character. Katara and Zuko are the ones being insensitive in this episode. Katara flat out tells Sokka to his face that he did not love their mom like she did, something super fucked up to ever say to your sibling and also something we never see Katara apologize for. Zuko then mocks Aang’s culture and people right to his face.

I’m sorry Zuko, last time I fucking checked, your genocidal family MURDERED all of Aang’s people brutally. And you have the fucking audacity to make fun of said people and culture that your family is directly responsible for slaughtering? Zuko is canonically being a racist cunt toward Aang right here. I hope you realize this. And does Aang get mad or beat his ass? No, even though Zuko ABSOLUTELY would have deserved this theoretical ass whooping. Katara then tries to steal Appa, something Aang would have every goddamn right to be pissed about, but he doesn’t get angry even then. Newsflash: Appa isn’t hers, and she knows how important Appa is to Aang. Her trying to steal him from Aang to take him on a dangerous suicide mission while simultaneously leaving all the others in the group stranded on Fire nation soil is perhaps one of the dumbest decisions Katara made throughout the show, and one of the most OOC.

Look, i could write an entire essay on the Southern Raiders alone, but this is getting too long. But you claiming Aang tries to force Katara to forgive Yon Rah is also not true. She says she won’t forgive him at the end of the episode, and Aang is fine with that and says he’s proud of her. He is happy as well to see she has forgiven Zuko. Which again, is the whole reason Zuko did any of this—to get what he wanted.

“He was still so immature that he took a play as truth and got mad”

Alright, let’s confront the damn Ember Island Players episode because zutarians are legitimately incapable of comprehending episodes of a kids show written for 6 year olds.

Aang, in EIP, doesn’t think the play he’s watching depicts completely true events. However, Aang, a kid, has just sat down and watched some play openly mock him and all of his friends for like, over an hour now. And getting upset like everyone else in the group has already been depicted as getting as well, he gets up and leaves the theatre. When Katara comes to find him, something he never asked her to do, he makes an off handed comment about how he is upset over what the play is depicting all of them to be. It should be noted that, Aang’s comment about the avatar state is… not literal…. Lol. Like idk why I need to say this to you, anon… people make comments that are not meant to be taken literally all the time, including yourself. This is one of those types of comments. It’s just an expression to say he’s upset. It’s literally not that deep.

Secondly, Aang and Katara are both in a state of confusion over their relationship. Aang bringing up the play or rather, what is said within the play does multiple things: 1) Aang is literally giving Katara a way out. This was his intent. And 2) Aang is feeling insecure in this moment. He’s a kid, he hasn’t dated someone before, give him a damn break?? He just watched a propaganda play for over an hour where all his friends and himself are getting roasted left and right and all the things being said about him are getting to him emotionally. So he asks if any of it is truthful, at least in regards to their relationship, and do you know what Katara says, anon? She literally denies it, denies thinking about him as a brother.

Aang doesn’t “go onto get mad at her for things she didn’t say”—Aang is aware that she did not say these things, lol. He simply asks if it’s at all truthful to how she actually feels, and then gives reason as to why he is asking, which is: that they kissed at the invasion and then never talked about their relationship afterward. Meaning Katara is intentionally avoiding talking about it, which is clearly why Aang is questioning how she feels. I would do the same? This is like… a perfectly reasonable thing to do, if you kiss someone who has been acting like they have romantic feelings for you for months, who also kissed you once already, and then they start avoiding the topic??? Who the hell wouldn’t ask what’s up at that point, because??? Failing to see how this is a bad thing.

Anyway, point is that Katara denies viewing him platonically. She then goes on to reason that they shouldn’t start a relationship because the war is not over. So yes, she is actually saying two things: 1) she does have romantic feelings for Aang and 2) she does actually want to be with him in a relationship. Which leads me into my next point:

“He kissed her and got mad again”

Look, literally no one is saying Aang should have kissed Katara at this moment. So, you can quit with the act and the pretending that kataang shippers say this is a good moment, because none of us do. However, you are really dumbing down the events of this moment and also intentionally removing context, and flat out lying at the end of your sentence by claiming Aang gets mad at her for her reaction. So let’s debunk, shall we?

“Aang kissed her”. Yes, he does kiss her. But maybe we should actually you know, remember the damn context so we can understand why he does this? Katara just told him she loves him romantically. She then also told him she wanted to have a relationship with him but that the ongoing war prevented this. Katara saying “I’m confused” had nothing to do with her feelings for him… this is spelt out for you in on screen dialogue?? This was about confusion over when they could be together because of the war…….. Aang kisses her in response to her saying she does love him romantically. Katara then yells about how she was “confused” once more, reinstating the boundary here: that she doesn’t want to get involved romantically with Aang while the war continues. She then leaves and Aang reprimands himself. End scene.

Aang kisses Katara. Should he have? No, that wasn’t really the right move on his part. But 1) Aang never did this with any malice and 2) he was responding to the fact she was saying she loved and wanted to be with him and 3) good lord he’s still a kid and made a god damn mistake? Jesus. (And btw anon, Katara is also a child. You seem to infantilize Aang in your message, so I’m just reminding you that Katara is not a 30 year old woman. She is a kid, just like Aang.) When Katara leaves, Aang does not get angry at her, nor does he get angry at her response. He is upset with himself. He then reprimands himself, calling himself an idiot, and then never initiates anything toward her for the remainder of the show.

ATLA is a kids show, anon. They clearly wrote this scene to teach kids that you shouldn’t kiss someone unless you know for sure that it’s a good time to do so. This isn’t some extremely deep interaction. It was written to teach young children something important, just as ATLA does the same with many other life lessons. Because… it’s a show written for young kids. The fact that you (I presume you’re an adult) are incapable of comprehending these things about a show written for ages 6 and up… is uh… not a flex…

“None of these issues are addressed”

Well, one of your so called issues wasn’t even an issue considering you flat out lied about the canon episode of the SR and how Aang acts and why. As far as the kiss, there really isn’t much to address. Katara says she doesn’t know when they can be together. Aang kissed her in response to her saying she loves him. She says “hey I just said now isn’t the right time” and then leaves. Aang reprimands himself for having done that calling himself stupid. Katara then decides at the end of the show that now is the right time and so kisses Aang. The end. It’s really not that complicated. I fear y’all want ATLA to be more … adult than it is. And that simply isn’t the reality. What Katara says and does on screen is what she means. When Katara says she views Aang romantically, that’s what she means. When Katara says she wants to be with him but the war prevents it, that’s what she means…

As for your last paragraph, which is very condescending…. Katara never treated Aang like her child and Aang never viewed or treated Katara like his mom. I don’t know why you zutarians are so obsessed with viewing Katara as if she is 40 years old while simultaneously viewing Aang as if he has the mental capacity of a 2 year old, but I want you to understand that this is not truthful to the canon show. Like… at all. There is even an entire episode where Katara outright says she hates that anyone views her as motherly and we are shown that it’s a response to trauma. This is yet another reason Aang is good for Katara, because he helps her feel like a kid in a world that has practically taken whatever childhood innocence she had away from her.

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid!”

“You still are a kid!”

Yes, people disliking kataang because it subverted heteronormative tropes is true. People hated that Aang was younger than katara, they hated that Aang was shorter than katara, they hated that the guy in the relationship actually gave a fuck about the girl and treated her as an equal, they hated that Aang actually looked to Katara for guidance etc, they hated that Aang acknowledged all the things Katara did for him and that he thanked her for these things, they hated that Aang was a male character that wasn’t afraid to do feminine things etc. I mean are you fucking for real right now? Do you know the amount of zvtarians I and others have seen that outright mock Aang solely for his appearance? *cough* it’s the racism *cough* That outright make claims that Aang isn’t “man enough” for Katara? STFU, anon. No really, stfu. I’ve been in the ATLA fandom since the day the first episode premiered. I know what I’m talking about. And you’re not going to try and pretend the zvtara fandom doesn’t have a long history of mocking Aang and being racist and xenophobic toward his character, while simultaneously sexualizing Katara and treating her like a 30 year old (which is how many people treat indigenous girls or girls of color).

And before I end this message, I’ll respond to your last comment. That kataang is “hero gets the girl” trope.

No, no it isn’t. Aang never once treats Katara like a prize to be won. Ever. The narrative isn’t rewarding Aang, also. He was fully content to walk on that balcony alone. He did not ask Katara to come out there. Katara chose to go out there with him because she had already made it clear she loved him and wanted to be with him and that the war going on was the reason as to why they weren’t together already. Now that the war is over, she made the call to start a relationship with him. This is.. again, not complicated. But Aang never treated nor viewed Katara as something to win for his hard work. He never saved the day expecting her to date him in exchange for his having saved the day. That just… is flat out not truthful to the show.

Anyway, consider yourself debunked.

#sokka #atla #anti zuko #the southern raiders #honestly zuko gets away with a lot but this episode was my last straw #katara #aang

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teikohs · 3 years ago

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GOM kabedoning you???? Please. I wish someone would kebedon me in reality t.t (someone like aomine lol)

when i saw this request, i just kept grinning like an idiot,, thank you for this lol (and yes, i hope that’ll happen to me too),, some of these were much more ‘for fun’ than the others oops,, also, wow look at me coming back,, thought i’ll finish the rest of the requests and then i’ll see what’s next,, idk if anyone’s still active but hope you enjoy this \ (・ω・) /

akashi seijuro

doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would do it to you in front of others; if anything he’ll get slightly annoyed at seeing other students talking to you but manages to control his jealousy

only when they leave does he cage you against the wall, frowning just a little, “is my empress busy with schoolwork? you can always ask me you know.”

as much as he tries to handle his feelings by hiding them, he learns to let loose only when you assure him that you only have eyes for him and that you were only discussing class duties with the other students

he knows to trust you but sometimes, he just wants your full attention — he offers to take you out to eat so he can spend more time with you (this time with the disturbance of others)

aomine daiki

although he thinks he can hide his irritation quite well (especially when he sees a few student taking up time supposedly meant for the two of you), he doesn’t and eventually his menacing aura scares them away

only then does he approach you, trapping you between the wall and himself as he sighs deeply

“i wish you would pay more attention to me. but it’s fine... you can make up for it now.” he would whisper in your ear, smirking proudly when he watches you turn red

he’ll keep trying to make you more flustered but you can quickly turn the tables by just pecking him on the cheek — and now it’s his turn to blush madly

kise ryouta

he leaves the class with a huge grin on his face because he notices you leaning against the wall, waiting for him to finish

when he notices the group of students staring at you, he can’t help but feel slightly jealous, suddenly slamming his hands on the wall beside you

there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes as the glances at the students then back at you, “i think i’ll like to show them that you’re mine.”

only after he sees the students run away does he revert back to his cheeky and mischeivious self — probably engulf you in a big hug while you scold him for his actions

kuroko tetsuya

honestly, i don’t ever see him trying to do this purposefully — if anything, i can see it maybe being you asking him to try it out on you or accidentally doing it to you

if it’s the former, he’ll lightly place his hand on the wall behind you before leaning down and talking in a deadpan manner, “is this what you wanted me to do, (f/n)-kun?”

if it’s the latter, it’ll probably be him trying to scare you as you waited for him outside maji burger — he’ll end up appearing in front of you, hitting the wall behind you and expect you to jump up in surprise before hugging you

however, he doesn’t expect you to start blushing but when you do, he finds it too cute — he hides his own blush by offering you a bite of his vanilla shake

midorimaa shintarou

with the keychain dangling from your fingers, you smirk at him, taunting him to get his lucky item back — it was always fun to tease him

but when you notice the look on his face as he turned to you, you knew that you might have taken it a little too far

he takes a few menacing steps towards you and you step back in return, until you feel your back against the wall and you hold the keychain out for him to take

“i don’t need that anymore,” he leans down to growl in your ear, “since you think it’s entertaining to tease me, i don’t mind doing the same to you.”

muraskibara atsushi

you two were waiting at the bus stop, leaning against the board after you accompanied him to the convenience store and he describes his thoughts on the new snack flavour

but when you nod and give lacklustre responses, he could tell that you weren’t actually paying attention to him

he gets somewhat annoyed, taking the phone from you and placing in his pocket, before lightly hitting his palm on the board, towering over you with his large figure

“atsushi, we’re in publi—“ he cuts you off, puffing his cheeks, “i don’t care. pay attention to me, (f/n)-chin.”

#kuroko no basket #knb #knb x reader #generation of miracles #kiseki no sedai #akashi seijuro #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #kuroko tetsuya #midorima shintarou #murasakibara atsushi #anonymous #*seijuro #*daiki #*ryouta #*tetsuya #*shintarou #*atsushi

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

Text

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow.

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek.

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.”

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.”

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all.

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound.

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

2K notes · View notes

bakumu-archive · 3 years ago

Text

to capture a star

rich!Daichi x fem!reader

wc: 13k

summary: when daichi asks you to go with him to his family’s cabin during spring break, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by a giant mansion. Will the money and social life scare you away or will you be able to find love with daichi, despite being thrown into a world of fast cars and expensive clothing?

cw: rich people, SMUT (daddy, praise, biting, feral daichi, unprotected sex, creampie), pining, racing, one punch, blood (from the punch), alcohol, insecurity, mild jealousy, possessive daichi, side kiyoko x tanaka, probably ooc

a/n: this is for the rich boy collab hosted by @bakugohoex! be sure to check out all the other submissions! you can find the link to the masterlist here

terushima is an asshole in this and i'm sorry, i love him but i needed a captain to be sleazy and he volunteered. he told me he couldn't resist hitting on a cutie like you, and who am i to stop him.

check out the mood boards i made here and shout out to my beautiful beta reader @winniethepoohloathesyou for working so hard on this with me!

minors do not interact. this work contains mature themes and if you continue reading you have agreed you are willing to see such content

When Daichi sat down next to you in your econ class last week and asked you to come to his family cabin during spring break, this is not what you imagined.

You thought that you would be able to spend some time alone with him, enjoying nature together in a small house nestled in the forest, spending enough time together to finally put a label on whatever the spark was between the two of you.

But no.

You blink rapidly and take a good look at your new surroundings, trying to make sense of what your eyes see. Before you stands the largest house you have ever seen. But just calling it a house would be an extreme understatement.

This place is a mansion. Three stories of white brick detailed with elaborate stone embellishments. The gray mansard roof’s steep slope meets at the top with a fenced stone parapet. An elaborate garden extends between you and the house and you swear you can see an Olympic-sized swimming pool nestled into the courtyard. And this isn't even the front of the house. You blink in disbelief when you spot a giant race track off to your left and what looks like a massive, ten-car garage. The scent of sea air assaults your senses and when your gaze flickers to your right, you can see the ocean and the mansion's very own harbor.

And none of that even includes how you got here: on a private jet, landing on a personal runway where you currently stand.

The beat-up duffle bag you use for your family’s camping trips that hangs from your shoulder suddenly feels very wrong in a way you can't explain.

You turn to face Daichi as he joins you on the tarmac. “Daichi, this is your family cabin?” you ask wide-eyed, your voice sounding so high-pitched that you barely recognize it.

He rubs the back of his neck, one of his nervous habits. “Yeah, it's kind of embarrassing. I used to spend all of my summers here with my siblings but now the house barely gets used,” he says sheepishly.

Before you can ask any more questions, the loud rumbling of car engines interrupts your conversation and you see two sports cars taking two corners on the track before barreling down the straight of the runway towards you at top speed.

“Ah, those two are here already, I see,” Daichi grins. He takes your duffle bag from you, throwing the strap over his shoulder and pulling you closer to him while wrapping his arm around your waist.

The cars roar to a stop right behind the jet, creating the perfect image, an Instagram influencer’s wet dream.

Daichi leans over to whisper in your ear as they both get out of the cars, “The one in the red Ferrari LaFerrari is Kuroo Tetsuro and the one in the white Lamborghini Aventador is Bokuto Kotaro.”

The two are pointing fingers at each other as they get out of their cars bickering and you can see the wealth dripping off them. The man with the spiky black hair, that Daichi told you was Kuroo, is pointing back in the direction they came from as he closes his car door, while Bokuto, with his spiky gray hair, pouts, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. Both of them grab a bag from the trunks of their cars, still arguing with each other before Kuroo places his arm around Bokuto in a show of faux peace before they start walking towards you and Daichi.

“They're both idiots,” he pauses to watch Bokuto swat at Kuroo’s arm, “but they are actually really good guys.”

The two of them are still heated, poking at each other's chests as they reach you and Daichi, only stopping when he coughs to grab their attention.

“Are you two done yet?” he questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Daichi, I was faster, wasn't I?” whined Bokuto, giving Daichi and you a small pout as Kuroo pats his shoulder, leaning slightly closer to you.

“This must be Y/N. She’s cuter than you said Dai,” Kuroo says with a laugh.

You miss the way that Daichi’s cheeks start to turn pink because you were so taken aback at his statement. Daichi told his friends about you? His apparently super rich friends?

Daichi’s grip around your waist tightens slightly before he responds, “Guys this is Y/N L/N. Please, don't annoy her too much.”

Both of their heads perk up at that.

“Oh yeah Daichi, we will be perfect saints,” Kuroo smirks.

Bokuto matches Kuroo’s playfully devious look, suddenly over his apparent loss on the track. “Oh yeah, nothing but angels.”

Before Daichi has time to wipe the smiles off their faces, you hear the sound of helicopter blades whirring above.

You look around until you see it fly directly overhead. The sound fills the air as the helicopter starts its descent onto the helipad next to the parked jet.

The helicopter blades whip up the grass and plants all around, and you have to place your hand on your head to prevent your own hair from being messed up by the whirlwind.

You look over to Bokuto and Kuroo to see them fiercely trying to protect their hair spikes from the wind and failing. Daichi follows your gaze and when he sees them, he lets out a laugh in full force.

The helicopter makes a soft landing and the blades slow down when the engine turns off and two people step out.

The most beautiful girl you have ever seen in your life hops out from the operator's seat, throwing her gorgeous black hair over her shoulder as she walks over to the man holding his hand out for her, hoisting their designer bags over his shoulder.

“Kiyoko, Tanaka, I'm so glad that you guys could make it,” Daichi smiles at the couple as they approach.

Daichi lets go of your waist so he can give the two of them a proper hug, before introducing you.

“This is Y/N.”

Kiyoko walks up to you and grabs your hands in hers and smiles at you, “Finally another girl. It's about time.”

Tanaka laughs, “What, babe? Are you getting tired of us?”

She lets go of your hands so she can give Tanaka a playful slap to the chest, “You know that's not what I meant, Ryu. It'll be nice to have someone to get ready for the gala with!”

You feel Daichi slightly flinch next to you at the mention of a gala.

Your brows furrow as you ask, “A what now? Daichi never mentioned anything about a gala.”

You turn to him, questioningly, and he moves his hand to the back of his neck for the second time in ten minutes.

“It's nothing really, just this huge party my family has hosted for years. We really wouldn't even have to go if you don't want to…” the last few words trail off before he is interrupted by Kiyoko.

“What are you saying Daichi, you have to go! It's your family's gala.” Her brows are furrowed and she is looking at him suspiciously.

Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh, “Well that's a discussion for the future. Let’s go settle into our rooms.”

Daichi puts his arm around your shoulders as he leads the group up to the back porch, walking through the garden and around the giant swimming pool and fire pit area.

“I assume you four are taking your normal rooms?” Daichi asks the group.

They all nod before splitting in different directions, obviously understanding the intricate layout of the house after what you assume is years of friendship.

Daichi leads you through the first floor, pointing out various rooms and points of interest as you take in the vastness of your new surroundings. Most of the rooms have white or cream-colored walls with very intricate crown molding. Some have very distinct and uncomfortable furniture that looks like it has never been used, while others look like they are ready for a full day of lounging. He even takes you past the bowling alley and the in-home movie theater.

Eventually, he leads you to a huge staircase that circles around the main entryway to the house. The whole room looks like it's made out of marble and you take a twirling step to bask in the grandness of the space.

Daichi calls out to you, pulling you back into reality. He has one foot on the first step and his hand is outstretched for you to take.

“You coming?” he smiles at you, wiggling his fingers, waiting for you to take his hand.

When you do, you hold on to it like it's your lifeline, the only anchor you have in this unfamiliar territory. He leads you up two flights of stairs to the third floor and then down a large hallway filled with doors and golden crown molding.

He stops in front of a door before saying, “Well, this is you,” and moving your duffle bag back to your shoulder, letting his hand linger on your skin until he forces himself to pull away.

“I’m right here across the hall if you need anything, alright?” he reassures you with a smile.

You nod at him, trying to process all of the new information you've just taken in, before putting your hand on the doorknob and turning away from him.

He calls out to you before you go inside, “Why don't you take an hour or so — take a shower, there's a bathroom attached to the suite — and then when you come down to the kitchen, we can get some snacks?”

You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes at him with a pout, “Is this your way of telling me I smell?”

His laughter fills the hallway. “No, I just want you to relax. This is your vacation too, ya know?” His smile is contagious and you can't help but smile back at him, really hoping that a shower will help as he says.

“Okay Daichi, I'll try.”

With that you enter the bedroom, closing the door behind you before resting your head on the wood, letting out a very small sigh.

You try to relax like Daichi said by taking a warm shower, but everything was way too nice. The grand marble shower and the elegant tile tub just serve to remind you that you are in a world different than your own, giving you more anxiety than relaxation.

You manage to get through your shower: fiddling with all of the button options to turn the water off, grabbing a plush towel to dry off, and then changing into some of the clothes that you packed.

You head back out to the bedroom in a huff and take another look around, half expecting the room to have transformed into a new one completely, but you are glad that it's just as you left it.

The massive four-poster bed sits against one wall next to the room's giant floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the afternoon light, casting long shadows on the fireplace gracing the opposite wall and the plush sitting area in front of it.

You flop yourself on the bed, arms stretching out and you curse at how comfortable the mattress is.

Who would have guessed the handsome boy you met in your econ class was this filthy rich.

You don't want your brain to fantasize but your thoughts drift there anyways as you sit up to sort through your clothes; it dreams of a future where this could be all yours. It's not like you weren't dreaming about a future with Daichi before, but now you’re imagining paying off your student loans, using some money to help your struggling friends and family, or maybe going even bigger than that, like starting a business or a charity to really help people.

You have to stop yourself from going too far. You shouldn’t spiral with these thoughts because that's the big issue: you and Daichi, what are you really?

You were instantly infatuated with him when he smiled at you during your first economics lecture together just a few months ago. Sitting next to each other, passing a notebook back and forth drawing little doodles together when you should have been paying attention. The chemistry between the two of you only grew when you started studying together and he invited you out to party with some of his friends.

The two of you have even shared a few make-out sessions together at said parties, but the next day when you expected things to be awkward or to at least have a discussion about what it meant, Daichi always acted like everything was normal, like the two of you hadn't had your tongues down each other throats the night before.

And that's not to mention how he always seems to be holding your hand, or hooking his arm around you, giving you butterflies at every turn. He always seems to be more touchy when other guys are around, but you can say that you do the same. Hugging him back tighter when other girls look his way.

In the beginning, the small touches and longing glances you shared in class slowly turned to long hugs and holding hands. You thought that maybe Daichi was this way with all of his friends, but when he introduced you to his roommates, Asahi and Sugawara, you noticed that he isn’t that touchy with them. It seems to be something only reserved for you.

You think of all the shared touches that you've had just today and your heart flutters. It's like when the two of you touch, your heart is instantly filled with happiness that calms your soul. His touch just feels right and being with him feels as easy as breathing.

If soulmates do exist, you can imagine that this is what it feels like.

You let out a deep sigh, shaking away your thoughts, before you decide to make your way down to the kitchen to meet up with the others.

You follow the voices through the maze of corridors and staircases to the kitchen, thank god they are a noisy bunch.

Everyone is gathering around the huge kitchen island, with bowls of chips, candy, and other snacks scattered around, and there seem to be two different conversations going on.

Daichi has his back to you, and you walk up next to him, putting your head on his shoulder. He looks down, throwing his arm around you, pulling you into his space more before whispering, “How was your shower?”

You wrap your arms around his waist before shrugging your shoulders, choosing to instead focus on the conversation that Tanaka and Kuroo are having. Daichi grabs a few of the bowls of snacks and pulls them closer to you, taking a big handful of food for himself.

Kuroo lets out a loud annoyed groan before explaining, “Oikawa just texted me that he’s going to dock here for the night.”

You sense the mounting tension in the air and take a handful of snacks, ready to take in whatever drama that was about to unfold.

The mention of the name you are unfamiliar with seems to bring the other conversation to a close as everyone focuses their attention on Kuroo and his phone.

Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh. “I could have sworn I told him to keep that thing away from here,” he says, rubbing his hand down his face in annoyance.

“He's bringing that party boat here? During gala week?” Kiyoko adds, blowing hair out of her face with a huff.

“Eh, I'm not going to complain, it's always full of hot babes,” Tanaka says right before a smack lands on his chest from Kiyoko. He pulls her into him, playfully kissing her cheeks, “No one is hotter than you babe, you know that.”

She rolls her eyes at his response but seems to accept his apology.

Not having any idea about who or what they are talking about you pipe up, “Who’s coming?”

Daichi lets out a big sigh before explaining, “Oikawa is this guy we grew up with, he’s a big flirt with an even bigger yacht. It's pretty much a giant party boat that he fills with supermodels.” You can practically feel the way Daichi’s eyes roll at the notion of a party boat stacked to the nines with supermodels.

Bokuto moves to Daichi’s other side, leaning over the island looking around him at you with a wide smile and adds, “Not to mention the alcohol and drugs.”

“Yes, yes, Bokuto, we all know why you enjoy Oikawa’s visits,” Daichi retorts, shaking his head and laughing.

“He just texted again,” Kuroo says with an annoyed groan. “Says he's going to be docking in three hours.”

“Well, what do you guys want to do until he gets here?” Daichi asks, taking a big handful of pretzels from a bowl close to him.

“We could go for a race around the track,” Kuroo says with a devilish smile.

Bokuto lets out an excited yell before pointing at Kuroo and exclaiming, “Hell yeah, lets go!”

Everyone heads outside into the evening sun. The warmth that the sun provided during the afternoon seems to be fading, giving the air a slight chill.

Kuroo and Bokuto run with their hands in the air from the house to their cars before starting them and speeding off towards the track while Daichi leads you, Tanaka, and Kiyoko to the large ten-car garage that spans the side of the house.

He opens a side door leading everyone into the garage, pressing a big button on the wall causing all of the garage doors to begin opening, filling the space with light.

Your eyes widen when you look at the millions of dollars worth of vehicles equally spaced with precision in front of you. While you recognize some brands: Lamborghini, Ferrari, Bugatti, and Mercedes, there are more that you don't, and your eyes glaze over at the pure wealth displayed in the garage.

Tanaka's excited voice pulls you from your haze as he practically jumps up and down in place, “Can we take the Bugatti?” he shouts questioningly, making you jump.

“Sure thing,” Daichi replies as he takes the keys to the Bugatti Veyron SS off the hook and tosses them to Kiyoko.

You watch her unlock the car and climb into the driver's seat as Tanaka jumps into the passenger seat next to her. The engine roars to life and she carefully pulls it out of the garage before she peels off towards the track, leaving you and Daichi alone in the garage.

“So, do you see a car you like?” he questions, his eyes following the car as it barrels around a corner.

The first real time alone with him since landing here and he decides to ignore the elephant in the room? You wouldn’t be surprised if there was actually an elephant around here somewhere.

You ignore his question and turn to face him, “Dai, what the fuck. What is this place? How are you so rich?”

“I'm not rich, my parents are,” he quickly retorts, turning to face you.

“That's exactly what a rich person would say,” you roll your eyes at him.

“I know you must feel pretty deceived right now; it was so nice when I was just Daichi to you, not the heir to this big conglomerate worth millions of dollars,” he walks close to you, moving to place his hands on your shoulders but stopping himself, and lets his hands fall to the side almost in defeat.

“My dad is this huge businessman and he has all these women who throw themselves at him because of his money. He's never been in love, even when he was with my Mom, and I didn’t want that. I don't want that. I want to be in love. I want to marry someone I'm in love with and not because it is what has been decided for me.”

Of course, he would have a real reason that you couldn't get mad at. And of course, it’s romantic as hell. At least he’s being open about it now.

You look up at him, and you realize that this is the same Daichi that he's always been. Those are the same eyes that you've been looking at for months, the same hands that have held you so many times, the same Daichi as always, just a different setting.

“You know I'm not like that Dai, you could have told me,” you reply, your voice softer than it was earlier.

He takes a step closer, his hands reaching out and rubbing away at the stress in your shoulders.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry that I kept this hidden from you. I should have told you.” He sighs, closing the remaining space between the two of you and moving his hands to cup your face. “I just want you to understand what getting into a full relationship with me would mean.”

The way Daichi is looking at you makes your heart melt. His eyes reach your face in desperation, half expecting you to push him away but you just lean into his hands, closing your eyes and savoring his touch before you match his vulnerable gaze.

“What would a full relationship mean then, Daichi?” you practically purr at him.

“It means all this,” he says before kissing you lightly. “All the fun stuff, the cars, the houses, the private jets,” he kisses you again. “But it also comes with a lot of not fun stuff too.”

You take a deep breath before responding, heart pounding from the intimacy of the moment. “And what would happen if I said that I still wanted a relationship with you? Even with the not-fun stuff.”

His breath hitches before he smiles. “I'd give you everything,” he whispers, eyes searching yours again, thumbs caressing your lips softly as he still cradles your face in his hands. “I'd buy you the moon if you wanted it.”

“Good thing I don't want the moon then.” You grab his shirt, closing the gap between the two of you before kissing him.

His hands fall to your hips before he starts to push you backwards towards the Ferrari behind you, until your ass hits the car, never disconnecting from the kiss.

His lips feel warm on yours as you get swept away into the moment with him. Your lips moving in tandem before his tongue expertly sweeps out at your bottom lip. You let out a moan, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth.

His grip on your waist only gets harder when he starts to move his body against yours, rutting his hips against yours, letting out a small moan into your mouth.

If the two of you weren't so caught up in each other, you would have heard Kuroo pull up to the garage and step out of his car before just staring at the two of you locked in each other's embrace. He rests his cheek on his short car door before he reaches a hand inside his car to honk the horn. You and Daichi startle at the sound, pulling apart as Daichi sends Kuroo a death glare.

Kuroo lets out a loud laugh unaffected by Daichi’s glare. “Thanks for the show, but are we going to race or what?”

Daichi waves him off, looking back down at you, his eyes bouncing from your lips to your eyes, with a smirk, “Do you want to drive?”

You hear Kuroo drive away as you playfully smack Daichi’s chest before you exclaim, “God no!”

His eyes close as he chuckles at you, “Okay, fair. But which one do you want to take?”

You look around at the cars not really knowing too much about them, so you ask, “Which one is the fastest?”

He smirks at you and says, “That’s my girl,” before throwing an arm around your shoulder and grabbing the key for the white Koenigsegg Regera off the hook.

He walks you over to the passenger side of the car, opening the scissor door for you and watching you take a seat before pulling it closed and jogging to his side, getting in the car.

The brown leather of the interior is a stark contrast to the white of the outside paint, and you find your body being cradled in the expensive bucket seat. Daichi leans over you, grabbing your seat belt and buckling it for you, bringing his face inches away from yours, teasing you before he buckles his own seat.

He pulls out of the garage slowly before putting the pedal to the floor and driving off towards the airstrip, racing around a few tight corners before he drives towards the runway where the other three cars are already lined up.

Bokuto jumps off of his side fender when he sees you and Daichi approach and makes his way inside his car with an excited spring in his step. Kiyoko kisses Tanaka before making her way into her borrowed car and Kuroo, who was sitting cross-legged on the roof of his car watches the two of you pull up before jumping down and walking towards you.

Daichi meticulously lines up the front wheels with the other cars, before letting the engine idle, rolling down the window to talk to Kuroo.

When the rooster-haired man leans down to talk into the window, you don't miss his glance at you, before his eyes dart back to Daichi, and a small dusting of pink appears on his cheeks.

“We've decided we're doing a mile drag, first to cross the line wins, the loser has to make dinner and wash the dishes,” Kuroo announces.

Daichi looks over to you, intertwining your fingers and bringing them up to lips, kissing your knuckles, and a determined look crosses his face, his mouth turning up on the corner in a smirk. “Winner gets to pick what's for dinner, so you better decide what you want.”

His competitive side is something that you rarely see, usually only coming out when he's challenged, and the charged air around him has heat pooling between your legs.

Daichi lets your hand go and starts going through the settings of the car, setting up the launch control, mumbling to himself as he remembers how to set it up, as Kuroo heads back to his car.

You hear the roar of the other engines as they come to life and look through Daichi’s window at the other drivers, all giving thumbs up, ready to start.

Before Daichi gives his thumbs-up, he turns to you, “Just keep your head back, alright?”

You give him a worried look, but comply, placing the back of your head on the headrest behind you. You're concerned about what to do with your hands so you decide to place them in your lap.

Daichi gives the thumbs up and rolls his window up, giving the engine a few revs before hovering his foot over the gas in wait.

You watch as a now shirtless Tanaka walks out in between the cars. You can barely hear him as he starts to count down from five, but when he gets to one, he starts waving his shirt in the air wildly and Daichi slams on the gas.

The world starts to blur as the car accelerates. The loud roar of the engine assaults your ears as your heart starts to beat faster from the sudden adrenaline rush.

Time seems to slow as you go faster. You watch the speedometer increase: 60, 80,100, 120 and it’s still climbing.

The noise of the air rushes past as the car seamlessly cuts through and you feel your heart beating in your throat.

You look over at Daichi to see a big smile on his face; he knows he’s winning and you take the time to look back as Kuroo is being passed by Kiyoko, and she's getting closer to Daichi.

You let out a laugh: the crazy speeds and all the adrenaline pumping through making your body seem like it's on fire.

You glance at the speedometer and watch it hit 240 mph before you and Daichi cross the finish line first and he slams on the brakes. You are very glad you listened to him about keeping your head back, or else you're sure you would have whiplash.

Daichi stops the car, putting it in park before turning to look at you, your eyes full of bewilderment as your body tries to process the fact that you're in one piece after such a rush.

“Holy shit Dai! You won! We won! That was amazing!” you exclaim frantically to a smiling Daichi, laughing along with you as you stammer on about how fast it was.

The other cars form a circle with the hoods facing each other, and you watch as everyone starts to get out.

Daichi nods his head towards the others, “Come on, let’s go gloat.”

Everyone sits or leans against the hood of their cars, and Daichi once again has you tucked under his arm. You laugh along with the group and their antics as they argue over the standings. The official decision was that Daichi won, which was unanimous, with Kiyoko taking second, followed by Kuroo and Bokuto.

Bokuto said something about his launch control was being finicky before all of you hear whooping and yelling coming from a very out-of-breath Tanaka. He had apparently started running after the cars had left and was just now reaching the group.

Everyone is in high spirits as you talk for a bit and you seem to mesh seamlessly with them, throwing out a few quips that make Bokuto and Kuroo snort, teaming up with Kiyoko when the boys get too rowdy. It almost seems like you're not the new person in the group, that you’ve known them forever, and you are really happy that Daichi has surrounded himself with great people.

The rest of the evening was spent driving the cars and having long chats afterwards, about nothing and everything all at once.

When it came time for dinner, since you and Dai were the winners, you got to decide what Bokuto was making for everyone. His attempt at your favorite dish left the kitchen filled with smoke and Daichi surprised everyone with pizza, even before talks of a back up plan for was discussed.

Then you heard the horn of a ship, followed by mixed reactions as the five of you clear up dinner and get ready to leave the mansion for the ‘sex ferry,’ as Bokuto called it.

Daichi gets closer to you and murmurs into your hair, “Watch out for pervs on the boat, stay close to me, yeah?” You nod, as you wrap your arm around his ready to leave.

That is, until Kiyoko stops Daichi before the two of you make it out the door, “I’m stealing her for a second, she can't go on a yacht dressed like that!”

You look yourself over in the mirror and you have to admit, Kiyoko did an excellent job dressing you up.

Your hair is perfectly styled and your face has just the right amount of makeup. Kiyoko crosses in front of the mirror applying the finishing touch: a shimmering lip gloss that is the perfect shade for you. The oversized, white knit sweater that she had you put on hangs loosely over your curves, tucked in perfectly into the brown skirt that she picked out for you. It's not a look that you would usually go for, but you have to give her credit, she did a good job, you look stunning.

On the way up to this ginormous closet, she had explained to you that Daichi’s sisters had this closet stocked with every size and designer label known to man, just in case any of their friends needed a last minute change of clothes.

At first, you didn't believe her, but when you saw the enormous room with a rainbow of color-coordinated clothes hanging from floor to ceiling you changed your tune. You were even more shocked to find that all of the clothes still had their price tags on, wincing at the $1,000 price of one pair of pants.

Kiyoko gives you one last glance over before she starts to get herself ready, dressing in a black long-sleeved dress, the hem of the skirt falling just at her thighs and fishnet stockings, the exact opposite of the aesthetic she chose for you.

She applies her red lipstick with a pop before turning to you, “Well, what do you think?’

She takes your hand and twirls you around so that you are facing the mirror before she rests her chin on your shoulder.

You laugh at her antics, before replying, “I think we look hot!”

The two of you make your way down to the boat, exiting the mansion through a side door and make your way down to the dock.

Now that you are up close to the boat, you can see the massive amount of people on board. The four decks are filled to the brim with people dancing, talking, and making out, all with various drinks in their hands, and you can see Aoba Johsai written in cursive on the side of the boat.

The two of you step onboard and you hear him before you see him, “Kiyoko, over here!”

Tanaka is calling out for her through the crowd of people, leaning along the railing of the boat, dressed in all black and holding two beers.

She makes her way through the crowd with you close behind. Tanaka wraps her in his arms, kissing her on the cheek.

“Looking good babe,” he growls into her ear as she takes one of the beers from his hand.

The two of them look like they are about to start making out with all of their flirty touches, and you would like to find Daichi as soon as possible so you clear your throat and ask, “Do you know where Daichi is?”

“He's usually in the second-floor pool room; it’s up the stairs, second door on the right,” Tanaka replies while gesturing toward the stairway back by where you just came from.

You nod and take your leave, making your way to the stairs, bumping into people on the crowded deck. After the first few steps, you look back at Kiyoko, wondering if she’s coming with you. Too late, you think as you watch Tanaka pull her hips closer to his, whisper into her ear, and start kissing down her neck.

You shake your head and continue on, happy that she's having fun, but wishing you still had her company by your side.

At the top of the stairs, you only see one door that opens to an empty hallway. You decide to take your luck with it, even if this isn't the right place, it's a nice space to take a breather from all the people.

You open the door and what you thought was a quiet hallway turns out to be an echo chamber for the bass echoing off the walls. Where is the music even coming from; you barely heard it outside?

Leaning against the wall, you take a few deep breaths, which are immediately interrupted by the smell of cigar smoke wafting towards you. Part of you wants to leave but the other part of you says stay, stay for him.

This is so much to process, you can already feel a migraine coming on. The smell of cigar smoke and the thumping bass echoing off the walls of the ship isn't helping your stress levels. Where is Daichi? This would be so much easier if he would just appear by your side magically.

The door you just came through opens and shuts with a squeak, and you hope that your prayers have been answered, but when you turn to look at the person who just joined your space, it is very much not Daichi.

His blonde hair and very noticeable tongue ring are the farthest from Daichi as you can get, and you really wish that you weren't in this hallway alone with him right now.

He makes his way closer to you, getting in your personal space, leaning one arm against the wall next to your head to look you up and down, before licking his lips.

“Hey baby girl, are you lost?”

You start to look for an exit as he moves closer to you. “No, I'm just looking for someone,” you reply.

His arms cage you in, not giving you any room to move away. “Aw, don't be like that, I can show you a good time too,” he insists. “The name's Yūji Terushima, you'll need to know it when you're screaming it out later.”

You try to move away from him but he won't let you pass, until you hear a door open.

Daichi comes out of one of the side rooms and the instant he sees you trapped by this man, his eyes turn red with anger.

He rushes over to the two of you, yelling out, “Hey! Get off of her!”

Terushima isn't quick enough to respond, turning to face Daichi, but Daichi is already at his side sending his fist flying towards the blond's nose with a mean right hook.

Your body sags with relief as Daichi pulls you into his arms and Terushima is on the floor withering in pain, gasping at his probably broken nose.

Daichi is frantically looking over you, checking your arms and face for any sort of harm, “Did he touch you? Are you okay?” he questions you rapidly.

You bury your face in his chest and nod, “Yeah, I'm ok.”

He puts his arms around you before pulling you away towards the door he just came from. “We're down here,” he says, glaring at Terushima covered in his blood on the floor, leading you away from him.

The room that Daichi was in is stuffed full of people. People line the walls, getting very personal with each other, while others sit on the couches in the center of the room with people pulled onto their laps or under their arms. There are two pool tables on either side of the couches and you spot Kuroo and Bokuto playing what looks like a game of strip pool with four girls, and, from the looks of it, they are losing badly. On the other end of the room is a large bar, with glass bottles lining shelves behind it and a few empty bar stools.

Daichi chooses to ignore his almost naked friends and heads towards the bar, pulling out a stool for you before taking the seat next to you.

The bartender has very fluffy brown hair with matching brown eyes and once he's done serving up drinks to the couple down the bar, he makes his way over to you.

He starts to gather a glass for Daichi without even asking him what he wanted and then looks at you expectantly, “Well cutie, what can I get for you?”

Daichi levels his gaze at the man, and you can feel the deep grumble vibrate from his chest before he turns to you, “This,” he gestures to the bartender, “is Oikawa.”

Oikawa gives you a wink before scurrying out of Daichi’s reach as he playfully tries to grab him, causing Daichi to let out a huff.

With the weird environment you're in, you think it's best to forgo alcohol, at least for now, so you ask Oikawa for water.

He hands you a glass with lots of ice in it and you watch the way the two of them interact. Their friendship looks to be built on a bed of mutual annoyance, but you can see how they care about each other hidden in the undertones of their speech.

The night goes on and you spend a lot of it with Oikawa and Daichi at the bar. Oikawa asks you lots of personal questions, some of which you choose to ignore, and some of them you indulge him a little. If Daichi trusts him, it's okay for you too, right?

Just as your ass is starting to hurt from the barstool, a younger man comes up to Daichi, his orange hair bouncing in the wind as he practically vibrates in place. You catch his name, Hinata, and some of what he's trying to explain. There seems to be trouble between him and another guy, and he came to Daichi to be the mediator.

You can't blame him; in fact, if you were having any sort of trouble, Daichi's the first person that you would seek out. Daichi is so strong and dependable, he makes the rest of the world feel safe and easy. It's not that he makes problems go away but he seems to take in the situation for what it is and find a solution that seems so blatantly obvious you can't believe that no one else thought of it first.

Daichi is that and so much more. His playfulness and competitiveness are something that you saw today when he was driving that car. Not to mention how hot he looked behind the wheel, his arms muscles were on full display and you barely even got the chance to stare at them. You think about going back in time just so that you could watch them flex as he gripped the steering wheel.

You shake your head, trying to pull your brain away from the horny thoughts, but all that manages to do is send you back to the memories of your hot makeout session in the garage earlier. How his hands were all over your body, his lips pressed to yours...

Daichi’s laugh pulls you from your daydream and you realize that he, Hinata and Oikawa are all staring at you. His hand is waving in front of your face, “Earth to Y/N.”

Your shocked expression tells you everything he needs to know so he repeats himself, putting his hand on your knee, “You good here for a minute? I gotta help Hinata with something.” You nod at him and the two walk off together.

Oikawa talks to you in between serving people drinks and you manage to have a decent conversation about your university studies. Turns out, he is studying a major very similar to yours.

Oikawa pulls his phone out and answers it, before putting it down on his shoulder, turning to you, “I have to take this, I’ll have one of my boys take you to Daichi.”

He turns to one of the nearby couches close to the bar before barking out, “Mattsun, take her out to where Daichi is. I have some shit to deal with.”

The man he called out to kisses the blonde sitting on his lap before moving her off of him so that he can help you find Daichi. His tall body leads you out onto the deck of the boat through hordes of drunk people dancing and making out until you spot an orange mess of hair and Daichi standing next to him.

As you get closer you notice a small, but rather important detail that you couldn't see when you were farther away, Daichi is surrounded by tall, skinny, gorgeous-looking supermodels, and all of them seem to have their hands on him.

Daichi seems not to notice the touches, he's too focused on a boy with black hair laying upside down on a lounge chair, his hair softly caressing the wooden deck with every small gust of wind.

You notice another woman start to touch his hair before Daichi swats her away like she’s a fly before he's kneeling to look at the chair guy again.

Mattsun leads you closer to Daichi, announcing your arrival before saying his goodbyes and heading back where he came from. You yell out thanks as he is leaving and he waves his hand in the air as he walks away.

Daichi stands from his kneeling position and moves to your side. He has to get closer to your ear to talk as you are now closer to wherever the loud music is coming from but you don't mind, wrapping your arms around his waist possessively, eyeing the other girls.

“Kageyama had too much to drink, he's absolutely wasted,” Daichi says loudly, making sure you can hear him over the bumping bass.

You wished you would have grabbed your water before you left the bar. Just when you're about to suggest someone go get him some water, Oikawa bursts out onto the deck from a side door, exclaiming, “That little shit!” before running off towards the upper decks. You see that he's being followed by Mattsun, the guy who just helped you, and two other men, one with spiky black hair and the other with short pink hair. They all look extremely pissed.

You hear the sound of helicopter blades before you feel a blast of wind, causing the water to start rippling around the boat. You look curiously up at Daichi before he's turning and barking orders to Hinata to get the drunk guy some water and crackers before he's grabbing your hand.

“There's only one man that could be, and we better go make sure Oikawa doesn't kill him.”

By the time you two make it to the upper deck where the helipad is, there already seems to be a standoff in place. A tall man with dark olive hair stands with a large briefcase tucked under the arm of his suit coat. He does not look like he's dressed for a party, but instead like he's about to go into a courtroom.

This new man's face is void of emotion as Oikawa is practically snarling at him, lip upturned like an angry dog.

Daichi runs between the two warring factions, putting up his hands to Oikawa before turning to the tall man.

But before Daichi can say anything Oikawa is yelling over his head, “Who said you could land here, get lost!”

The tall man completely ignores Oikawa, walking up to Daichi, “Ah, Sawamura, just the man I was hoping to see.”

Oikawa's face turns red with anger, if this was an anime you are sure that there would be steam coming out of his head.

Daichi looks at him quizzically, “All this just to see me? Should we go talk in private?”

Ushijima gives him a confirming grunt, nodding his head and Daichi leads him around Oikawa and his men, stopping to whisper something in Oikawa's ear, looking at you, before making his way over to you.

His hand cups your face and you nuzzle into them as he speaks, “I have to go talk to Ushijima. Oikawa said he'll watch out for you so stay here until I get back alright?”

You don't want to leave his side again, but this must be important if a guy is willing to land on what seems to be his mortal enemy's boat only to talk to Daichi. You give him a small pout before you nod, and he kisses you before turning and jogging after the mysterious Ushijima.

Oikawa throws his hands up into the air making his way over to a bar. Damn, he really has these things on every level, doesn't he?

This bar is smaller than the one in the pool room, and only has two stools, but there is a long couch next to it where his men sit down. He motions for you to take a seat at the bar as he starts pouring drinks for the other three, before offering to do the same for you. Taking him up on his offer this time he makes you both matching fruity drinks with cute umbrellas before he joins you, sitting at the barstool next to you.

Oikawa still seems to be on edge from his confrontation with Ushijima, or the lack of one, so the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a bit. You watch some of the party-goers stumble around on the lower decks, and you see women and men come up to talk to the three sitting on the couches. You pick up their names after a bit — Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsun, are what everyone calls them — and you eventually watch Mattsun get pulled away by the busty blonde you saw him with earlier.

Oikawa seems to pull himself out of his mental slump when he finishes his drink while you've only been sipping on yours, so you are nowhere near close to finishing it. He makes his way back over to the bar side and washes his cup before he starts making another concoction for himself.

He breaks his silence, “So, you and Daichi are pretty cute together.”

You hum at him in agreement, taking another small sip of your drink.

He continues, “He must be pretty serious about you if he's bringing you all the way out here. He's never brought a girl here before.”

Daichi and you haven't talked about your past relationships, but you aren't really surprised to hear that with what he told you earlier about wanting to be in love.

You don't want to pry, but you do want to know more. This side of Daichi’s life is still a mystery to you.

“Not even one girl?” you ask him in all sincerity.

Oikawa smirks, glad that he caught your attention with that one. “Well, he did date a girl from our neck of the woods, if that's what you want to call us rich shits. She was hot and smart but they never really seemed to mesh.”

You give him a curious look so he continues, “She was all business, no heart. And you know Daichi, his heart is ten times too big. They just didn't work.”

You nod taking in your new information before you feel someone next to you, the man with the pink hair, Makki.

He opens his mouth before he leans on the bar to stabilize himself, the alcohol apparently starting to kick in. His words are slurred together. “Are you two talking about Daichi? I heard some models say they would pay $10,000 to lick one of his thigh muscles!”

Oikawa pushes the drunken Makki off the bar and he stumbles back to the couch before slumping over into a woman's cleavage.

“Don't mind him,” Oikawa says, trying to bring back the lighter mood from earlier. “He doesn't know what he's talking about.”

Oh, but you do know what he’s talking about. You've been avoiding the thoughts since you landed, but now there's no holding back the dark thoughts you've been trying to suppress.

How are you supposed to be good enough for him? For Daichi and his big heart? You've seen it so much tonight, the way he laughs and takes care of his friends, like it’s second nature, coming easier than breathing for him. He's so caring, compassionate, fun and you're just you.

How are you supposed to compete for his attention when you are up against literal supermodels?

You swipe at frustrated tears forming in the corner of your eyes before speaking to Oikawa, “Can you tell Daichi I’m gonna go back to the house, I'm tired. But it was nice to meet you.”

You were very much not tired. This was the most wide-awake you have felt in quite some time. Your mind races with all the things that are wrong about the situation you find yourself in. You would laugh at how being on a billionaire’s floating sex boat is what made you feel this insecure if you weren’t feeling so pathetic.

You find your way off the boat with ease, pushing past people grinding on each other to get back to the dock so you can make your way to the safety of your bedroom.

As you get to the house’s side door you hear a familiar voice calling out your name.

Turning around, you see Daichi running up the path you just took, before he stops next to you, out of breath.

“Did you sprint all the way up here?” you ask him.

“Yeah…” he pants out in between breaths. “I wanted ... to catch you.”

“I told Oikawa I was going to bed, it’s been a long day and —,” you try to explain but he interrupts you.

“Are you actually tired?”

You are fidgeting with your hands, not wanting to lie to him, “Well, not exactly...”

“Come somewhere with me.” It flows out of his mouth like a demand but you can see the question in his eyes as they gleam in the darkness. You look at him quizzically before he continues, “Don't worry, no one else is gonna be there.”

Your lips turn in a small smile at his statement, “Just us?”

He takes your hands, placing them both between his own and brings them to his lips, giving your knuckles a light kiss. He keeps them there when he replies, “Yes, just us. I promise.”

You think for a minute, and then give him a hesitant yes.

His face lights up, “Okay, let's get some supplies.”

He takes your hand, pulling you into the kitchen, grabbing the snacks you like, and a nice chilled glass of water along with two glasses before motioning to a cupboard, telling you to grab the best blankets.

When you rub the blankets on your skin to test which ones are softer, Daichi smirks at you.

“Cute,” he says before making his way over to you, “but make sure you grab one of the big sturdy ones too.”

He grabs a basket for all the stuff and wraps you in one of the soft blankets before heading to the elevator that was tucked away in the corner of the kitchen.

“An elevator, really?” you grin at him, your earlier frustration easing away the more time you spend with him and his smile.

“To be fair, it was installed before we bought the house, but my grandma does use it a lot.”

The two of you ride the elevator to the top floor where Daichi starts running a hand along the wall looking for something. When a secret door pops open, he laughs at your shocked expression before motioning you to follow him inside.

A hidden staircase leads the two of you up to the roof and you take in the sight of the grounds. You can see the race track where you spent your evening, the large yacht floating below filled with people still bumping away to the music, and the stars... You swear that you've never seen the stars shine so bright before. You can see them weaving patterns in the night sky, their stories unknown to you but you enjoy their beauty nonetheless.

When you look over at Daichi, his eyes are soft as they trace your features, and you love the way his gaze makes you feel.

He leads you out to a small section of the roof near the middle of the house where he lays the thick blanket on the ground, setting out the snacks and taking off his shoes before sitting down on the blanket, patting the spot next to him as you take off your shoes and join him.

The two of you sit together, eating snacks, sharing stories for a while, staring up at the night sky together, before he turns to you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Let's play a game,” he proposes.

You look him over and nod, waiting for him to explain the game.

“It's easy, just ask me anything, whatever you need answered and I won't hold anything back.” He seems very confident, obviously wanting to make himself an open book after keeping this big secret from you. There are so many things you could ask, you don’t know where to start.

You raise an eyebrow at him before asking, “What is the worst decision you've ever made?”

He rolls his head to look you in the eyes, before raising his eyebrows at you, “Going right for the hard-hitting questions then?”

“You said you'd answer Daichi, are you gonna take that back?” you say with a little smirk.

He thinks for a moment before replying. “Fine,” He says before rolling his eyes, “I let Bokuto give me a tattoo once when we were both drunk.”

He sees your quizzical eyes as you try to suppress your laughter, “It’s on my ass and it’s a smiley face. Stop laughing!”

You can't stop the laughter that comes from you as you imagine your big strong Daichi with a funky little tattoo on his ass cheek. You are wiping the tears out of your eyes as he takes his opportunity for revenge.

“Okay, my turn!” he exclaims, rubbing his hands together.

You have to stop laughing so hard so that you can retort, “Wait, wait, you never said that I would have to answer too!”

He smiles and shakes his head, laughing. “Yeah, I guess you're right. How about I get to ask you a question for every two questions you ask me? And you don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

You look at him questioningly and you are very curious as to what Daichi would want to know about you so badly he’s willing to put himself on the line first. “Sounds fun,” you smile.

“Good, what's your second question?”

“What were you talking about with that guy, Ushijima?”

He looks uncomfortable as he tries to think about how to answer you. “Well, he mostly just saw Oikawa's boat and wanted to annoy him,” he chuckles before continuing. “But he also wanted to talk about a deal that our fathers are trying to make to secure our family ties. It's something that we both are very against.”

His answer leaves you with more questions, “What do you mean, ‘family ties’?”

He smoothly switches from his uncomfortable state and offers you a coy smile, “Do you want that to be your next question, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes at him you respond, “Ugh, no.”

“Okay, good because I really don't want to think about it. My turn then.” He thinks for a second before asking, “Do you think this,” he gestures into the air, “is too much for you? You know, the cars, boats, houses, money?”

You pause to gather your thoughts, staring up at the night sky again.

“I think that it's a lot to take in all at once,” you say slowly, calculating each word before it comes out of your mouth. “Especially the sex party boat,” you chuckle, “But I could get used to it.” You let the ‘for you’ hang in the air unspoken.

He grabs your hand, looking up to the stars, “I’m glad. Okay, what's your next question?”

You don't want to ruin the mood and ask about the ‘family ties’ between his and Ushijima’s families, so instead, you choose a safer route.

“What was it like growing up?”

He seems taken aback at first before a simple smile adorns his face, “My parents didn't love each other, not really. They had me, and then my brothers and sisters, but when times got hard they didn't support each other. They divorced pretty early in my life, I was still a kid when it happened.”

He pauses when you squeeze his hand in reassurance, but he's still smiling as he continues, “They split the companies between them, got us a nanny, and we bounced back and forth between houses every few months. I eventually just ended up as the caretaker for my siblings, making sure they didn't turn into spoiled brats.”

His laugh at the last part is so genuine it makes your heart flutter, but even so, his life has been far from perfect. “Wow, Daichi, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It wasn't that bad, I got to have a lot of fun.” He shakes off your concerned look before he gets to ask his question, “My turn again. What was it like for you growing up?”

You explain to him about your family dynamic, watching how his eyes seem to light up when you make jokes and then fall when you mention your hardships. He squeezes your hand like he never wants to let go when you finish telling him your stories, a playful smile returning to his lips before he tells you to ask your next set of questions.

You think of what to ask next, and your face grows hot as your brain churns up a question that you have never talked about with Daichi before.

Your tongue stumbles as the words flow from your mouth, “Have you had sex before?”

He tries to suppress his smile, “Yeah a few times, not with anyone really special though.”

Your lips part in surprise and you find yourself asking in a breathless tone, “What’s your number?”

Daichi leans closer to you, erasing the distance between your bodies as his hands move up the skin on your exposed thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Is that your next question?”

You're breathless, the heat from his fingers distracting you from the fire brewing inside you, “Yeah, it is.”

Daichi’s lips are so close to your own you can feel his breath on your soft skin, his voice dipping an octave when he asks, “Why, do you want to be one of them?”

You clear your mind enough to retort back at him. “Is that your next question?” you say, brushing your nose against his teasingly.

“Yes,” he answers before his breath hitches in his throat as you move your hands to his thighs.

“You first,” you giggle as his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

He answers as quickly as possible, his words almost too fast to hear but his tone is so low it sends shockwaves straight to your core. “It’s four, Laney in high school, this girl Kay at a party, Hime my ex and then Jackie in college a year ago. Your turn.”

Your mind clouds with his scent as you bring your hands up to his chest. Why is he so hot when talking about other people he's fucked, and why aren't you more jealous?

“I- uh, yeah. I would love to be your number five,” you stammer out.

He smirks at you, both of you are very obviously in need of each other's touch, more than you were getting and you can't deny how good it feels to have his undivided attention like this. Something about Daichi makes you forget your sense of self, and his touch instantly sends your heart racing.

“Do you have any more questions, sweetheart?”

You nod, biting your lip, “Are you going to kiss me, Dai?”

He nods before his eyes search yours. The stars tonight are reflected in his dark irises and you swear that you could get lost in him if you looked long enough.

Daichi moves closer to you at an agonizingly slow pace, and you savor the electricity that is simmering in the distance. It's enough to have your heart skip a beat before he closes the gap.

His lips meet yours and it's slow at first. His touch and kiss are reminiscent of the way that stars seemingly burn for eons until they can't take any more heat and explode in a fury of passion.

You grab the collar of his shirt, bringing him impossibly closer to you, wanting to erase any remaining space between the two of you. You seemingly throw him off his balance as he almost falls on top of you. You can feel him smile into the kiss before he starts to reposition your body with his big, strong hands.

Daichi sits back, before pulling your body into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist before continuing the kiss. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip and you moan at the contact, allowing him access, while you snake your hands into his hair, giving his roots a slight tug to get him to kiss you harder.

More. You need more.

His hands move up your body from your hips with a slow drag of his fingertips up to your neck, cradling your head in his hands, angling your head to kiss you deeper.

Your body burns at the contact with him, your soul reaching out for his through your kiss. Hearts melting and colliding into one supernova as your lips push and pull against each other. This heat that ignites within you that only he can seem to control, grows and grows until you feel like you're going to go insane if you don't touch him more soon.

Grinding your hips down on him, you can feel how much he is enjoying this, and you can't help but smile when he lets out a small whine into your mouth. Kissing him harder you start to move your hips against his as he ruts up into you at the same time. The delicious friction you've been craving but it's not enough, you need more.

His mind must have melded with yours because he stops kissing you, pulling away with your bottom lip caught between his teeth until you let out a small gasp.

“Pretty girl, tell me you want this,” he asks breathlessly.

You feel your cunt clench at his praise, needing more from him, needing everything.

“Dai, I want all of you.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and his eyes take in the sight of you on top of him with the endless backdrop of stars above you.

The look he's giving you melts any remaining pieces of your heart into a giant puddle, his eyes are soft and a small smile is on his lips as he whispers, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

You rest your forehead on his, looking him in the eyes and reply, “me too.”

He smiles at you bigger and you can't imagine feeling any happier than you are right now, his eyes crinkle in happiness before he buries his face into your chest, wrapping around you and hugging you with a huge amount of strength.

You let him hold you like that for a few seconds before the need growing in your stomach becomes unbearable.

You move your hands to cradle his head, pulling him from your chest so that you can look at him. His eyes are half-lidded looking up at you in awe, like he can’t believe that you're here with him on his lap.

“Daichi,” you practically purr, “please, fuck me.”

His eyes flutter at your words, and he bites his lip. He looks like he's fighting some sort of internal battle.

Before you can register his movement, the world is tilting on its axis, and your back is now on the soft blanket. His strong arms caging you under him and your legs are around his waist as he leans over you.

You can see why he was staring up at you earlier, he looks heavenly with the night sky as his backdrop. The soft glow from the house illuminating his features and he looks beautiful and so fucking sexy.

His eyes land on your lips and you watch as one corner of his mouth tilts up in satisfaction at your reaction to him.

“Aw, my girl thinks I'm sexy,” he says, nuzzling his nose against yours as he taunts you.

You can't believe you said that out loud, but it's true so you nod, worried what else will come out of your mouth if you choose to open it.

He leans down so that he is right next to your ear and he growls, “I think she’s fucking sexy too.”

He gives your earlobe a small nip before he starts kissing your neck. You turn your head, giving him more room, and he takes full advantage of it, tracing his tongue along your pulse before moving his lips against your skin. His lips search your neck until he finds that spot that makes you gasp, and then he focuses all his attention there, biting it lightly before his tongue swipes away the sting.

You moan for him, moving your hand to his hair, gathering some between your fingers before he sucks hard. Your hips jut up, grinding on him in pleasure, and both of you moan into each other as your clothed cunt brushes against his hard cock.

“I’ve been so fucking hard for you since our kiss earlier.” His mouth kisses down to your shoulder which is still covered by your sweater. “Do you want my mouth or my fingers?”

His hands make their way under your sweater and over the skin of your stomach, before teasing your nipples through your bra and you let out a gasp when he gives one of them a squeeze, a warning for you not answering him.

“I asked you a question, answer me,” he says in a stern voice that sends shivers down your spine and makes your eyes flutter.

Your mind tries to calculate a response, as the assault on your nipples increases, sending shocks of pleasure right to your core.

Unable to focus on anything but how his fingers feel on your skin as he trails a hand down your body, “your fingers, please” you moan out for him.

He leans back and pushes your skirt up around your hips before he starts to tease his fingers along the cloth covering your core.

His gaze on you makes you want to cover yourself up, but when you move to close your legs, his hand grabs your knee and pushes you back open for him.

He uses both of his hands to pull your underwear down, staring at the string of slick that connects them and your soaked folds. He tosses them somewhere over his shoulder, before taking in the sight before him. The cold night air meets your warm cunt and sends shivers up your spine, but the cold is quickly replaced with the heat of Daichi’s warm hands on your thighs.

“God, you're beautiful,” he groans, as he watches your cunt flutter around nothing at the depth of his voice. Fingers moving back to your slit, teasing your folds before he moves his fingers up to circle your clit.

You let out a gasp when he finally touches you where you've been needing him. Your hips jut up in search of more contact.

He teases his fingers through your folds before sliding one into you. You can feel how wet you are and it makes your face heat up but he feels so good inside you, you don't care.

He thrusts his finger into you a few times before adding a second, watching your face morph into pleasured bliss before focusing his attention on the way your walls are trying to suck him inside.

Your hands move to your chest, kneading the flesh there as he increases his pace, finger-fucking you until he finds the spot that makes you scream.

The pleasure in your body continues to build as he focuses all his attention on that one spot. Your nerves are all on fire and you can feel the building pressure, just waiting to be released. Daichi is making you feel so alive, his fingers working magic on your body, weaving their way into your soul and imprinting his mark there where it can never leave.

All of the muscles in your body tense and you hear Daichi say, “cum for me,” before the coil inside you snaps and your body convulses in pleasure, singing out his name in praise as he sends you to the stars. His voice and fingers still work you over, sending more pleasure into your system before you feel yourself gush around his fingers, your body almost folding in on itself as you grab at his wrist to hold him still inside of you.

Your breath comes out in short bursts as you relax onto the blanket with him still kneeling between your legs. When you look up at him, he has the cockiest smile on his face, obviously proud of himself.

You weakly smile and nod at him, hoping that he understands that he just sent you into orbit before you stretch out your hands for him.

He reaches out, and you pull him down on top of you. You kiss him roughly and he eagerly ruts his hips into you, moaning into your mouth when he can feel your wetness seeping through his pants.

You reach down between your bodies, unbuckling his belt and undoing the button on his pants. You try to get to his cock, but with the angle you're at and his boxers getting in the way, you can't seem to reach, and you let out a small whine.

Daichi seems to understand, and he pushes his pants and boxers down past his thighs, giving you the perfect view of his cock.

It makes your mouth water and you want to taste him so bad. Your hands move to stroke him, gathering the precum that leaks onto your fingers before you pop them into your mouth, lapping up the flavor eagerly.

You moan at the taste, sucking on your fingers, wishing they were his cock. You vow to yourself to take him down your throat and have him at your mercy before the end of this trip.

Daichi’s hand pumps his shaft a few times before he runs the tip through your folds, gathering your slick, before circling your clit with the head of his cock.

You moan at how thick and heavy he feels against your soft folds. “Please Dai. I need you so bad, please, fuck me.”

He lets out a groan. “When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?”

He lets go of his cock, and moves his hands up to hold yours, interlocking your fingers together before his lips connect to yours in a hungry kiss. He holds eye contact with you as he slowly moves his hips into position as the head of his cock slowly presses into you.

You watch him bite his lip as he fights the urge to buck into you, his half-lidded eyes concentrating on your face, watching your mouth form into a beautiful ‘o’ and your eyes flutter as he pushes more of himself inside you.

When his hips are flush against yours, he stills, wanting to give you time to get used to his girth. He can't help but savor the way your walls are squeezing him and sucking him into you. You give him a slow nod before he starts moving again, slowly pulling out of you and before pushing back in with more power.

You can't help but dig your nails into the back of his hands, forming crescent-shaped indents. The way his cock hits all of the spots inside of you perfectly has you questioning if this is a dream, but the way he sounds and looks as he moves above you is something so hot that your brain could never imagine it this perfectly.

His lips scatter kisses along your jaw until he's at your neck again, savoring the feel of your still tender flesh against his tongue. He’s taking his time focusing on leaving his mark at the top of your collarbone, sucking and nipping at your skin.

His head falls to your shoulder and his breath turns uneven as he pants out, “if you keep squeezing me like that I'm not gonna last,” in between thrusts.

You aren't going to last either, the coil in your stomach is already dangerously close to snapping again.

“Da-Daddy,” you moan, completely lost in your pleasure.

He pauses above you with his cock still fully sheathed in your dripping cunt, his head snapping up off your shoulder to look into your eyes, his brow furrowing. “What did you just call me?”

It takes a second for your mind to process what you just said. His hips being completely still as his cock continues to stretch you is not helping your brain processes.

And then it hits you, why did you just say that, oh no. “I’m sorry it slipped out — I’m so —” you panic, stopping when you realize he is shaking his head with a gleam in his eyes you haven’t seen before.

Daichi angles his hips before thrusting into you at an even harder and rougher pace. “Say it again,” he commands, each word accentuated by a heavy thrust.

You bite your lip as the pleasure takes over you once again as he pounds into you. The sheer strength he has is evident in the power behind each thrust.

You can't help yourself when you start babbling out a mixture of his name and new nickname, the two words becoming interchangeable on your tongue and streaming together.

Daichi releases your hands so that he can get a better grip on your hips, pounding into you without abandon. His eyes go dark as he loses himself in the feeling of your cunt, so soft and pliant and warm all around him. All his.

He can feel you tensing around him, squeezing his soul out of his body as his cock begs for release.

He speaks through his teeth as his whole body is clenching, hold out his orgasm for you, "Fucking cum on my cock baby girl. I need to feel it."

He lets out a primal growl as you feel the pressure inside you release as your pussy milks his cock. Your orgasm crashing through you, forcing you to grip onto his strong shoulders, leaving dark circles that will eventually turn into bruises into his perfect skin.

You cry out for him, chanting his name as your vision clouds over, and you swear you can see the universe unfolding and refolding in on itself as your body is propelled through time and space.

Your mind is hazy as your muscles twitch. Daichi is still pounding into you, babbling about how much of a good girl you are and how much he's going to fill you up, claim you as his.

Your body is still shaking with pleasure when you feel Daichi’s thrusts start to waver, your pulsating walls still pulling him even deeper until he lets out a moan of your name above you. His eyes lock with yours as he spills his cum inside you, filling you up completely until it seeps out around his cock.

You both are panting as Daichi leans down to kiss you, his soft lips a stark contrast to the pounding your cunt just received.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his weight on top of you and keeping him sheathed inside you.

The stars shine down on you in their infinite beauty and you wish you could stay in this moment forever with him, breathing in his scent, the two of your souls merged into one, with your breathing in sync. All you need is him, you think, only him and you could be happy forever.

Daichi wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He looks down at your sleeping form on his chest and debates on whether or not he should move you to turn the assault of buzzing off.

When his phone quiets down, he lets out a small sigh of relief.

After last night on the roof, the two of you managed to sneak to his room without anyone seeing you. Kuroo and Bokuto almost caught the two of you, but with women on each of their arms, they were a little too preoccupied trying to navigate through the mansion to pay attention to you and Daichi hiding in the shadows, giggling at their antics.

After the two of you got cleaned up, you both got comfortable under the covers, talking the night away, exchanging small kisses and playful jabs before you fell asleep on his chest.

He looks back down at you, and you look so cute sleeping in one of his shirts, the little bit of drool pooling on his chest is adorable and he wishes his phone was closer so he could take a photo.

The incessant buzzing starts again and he lets out a small curse.

Whoever is calling him must really need him. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your shampoo before he very slowly moves your sleeping body off him.

He grabs his phone off the nightstand before heading to the bathroom, not wanting to disturb your sleep with whatever this phone call is.

Finally looking down at the caller ID, he wishes he would have just thrown his phone out the window but nevertheless, he answers after letting out a big sigh.

“Dad, what do you need?”

His father talks to him through the phone before Daichi has heard enough. He says one phrase to his dad before hanging up the phone and turning his phone off and slamming it on the counter.

“Drop it, I am not meeting with Hime.”

the blonde sitting on issei’s lap? that was me uwu

who wants a part 2? i couldnt finish the other half in time for the deadline🙏 please forgive me

send me an ask to be added to my tag list

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#🌻.collab #rich boy collab #daichi x reader #Daichi Sawamura #Daichi Sawamura x reader #hq x reader #tw.blood #tw.alcohol #tw.daddy #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut

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smol-and-grumpy · 3 years ago

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You Are The Reason - 03

Pairing: Ex hockey player Dean x Figure skater Reader

Summary: Y/N needs an ice dancing partner if she wants to make it to the Olympics in time. Dean’s a fallen hockey star who’s in dire need of something good in his life. When their worlds collide, will it work in their favor? Or… the Olympics AU nobody asked for

Warnings: We’re still strong with the fluff. It’s a soft series guys -- until it’s not.

WC: 2,386

Beta: @deanwanddamons

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Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Dean ends up showing up at her tryouts. Of course he does. And not only because he technically has nowhere else to be after his bi-weekly PT slash workout session, but also because he’s awfully curious.

Y/N’s coach has reserved the whole rink for the tryouts and when he arrives, the male figure skaters are scattered around on the ice, in the process of warming themselves up by doing laps. She’s not doing laps with them, though. Instead, she’s standing by the board, talking to her coach as they observe the men gliding around on the cold but smooth surface.

They’re still engaged in a discussion when Dean makes his way over to the bench. He honestly doesn’t know if he’s welcome to be this close but he figured if she wanted his opinion, she wouldn’t appreciate him sitting far away in the stands. When Dean comes into her periphery, he sees her jerking her head up and her lips start to curve up, spreading wider until she’s practically beaming. He can’t help but beam back. It’s that contagious. Dean waves a little too before he takes a seat.

Her coach whispers something to her, probably some comment about him. The woman probably wondering why he’s here and who the fuck he is. Dean doesn’t really care. She wanted him here, and honestly, if someone doesn’t like it, they can come to talk to him themselves. He rarely bites.

Y/N shakes her head at the coach and laughs, and then she turns to Dean when the coach starts shouting orders at the male competition behind her.

“You made it.” There’s still a smile decorating her lips and her face is a little flush, strands of hair falling out of her top bun.

He shrugs while simultaneously sending her a cocky smile of his own. “You literally begged me to come.”

She giggles. A sound he’s never heard before. Dean commits it to memory.

“Oh my god, I did not!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess,” he chuckles easily, to which she rolls her eyes to the ceiling dramatically. There’s no heat behind the name anymore, hence she doesn’t even correct him and it might be just his imagination, but Dean thinks she’s fond of how he says it.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles nonetheless, failing to look annoyed with that grin on her face, “thanks, though.”

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“For coming,” she adds.

“Anytime, princess,” he manages to get in before her coach calls for attention.

The coach is a mean-looking Asian woman with a shockingly shrill voice. He’s seen her before at one of his own practises with the team, and if he’s not mistaken, she’s the mother of his ex-teammate Kevin Tran.

Mrs. Tran has a clipboard tucked under her arm as she announces the schedule of who’s going when, and suddenly, Dean finds himself surrounded by a dozen male figure skaters in spandex. He feels a little out of place in his jeans.

The competition eyes him up and down, probably noticing that he definitely doesn’t belong there. Some of them probably already feel victorious over him. Not that he cares.

He stands up to walk closer and in order to be able to see better, he braces his elbow on the board. Y/N gracefully makes her way over the ice, her hand in that of her current partner, his grip on her waist. Dean pushes down the weird feeling he has in his gut upon seeing someone else’s arm around her. He has no idea where that comes from.

The guy lifts her up while he spins around but something seems… off. It’s just… doesn’t feel right but he can’t put his finger on why. The skater doesn’t lack any skills by any means. He does the twizzles pretty easily and goes seamlessly into a pirouette but there’s something missing. And then he realizes – maybe Y/N was right all along. Maybe, chemistry is what it’s all about, even though he didn’t want to believe it at first.

The next guy isn’t any better. His hand slipped while lifting, almost causing Y/N to fall on her face. Dean had to hold himself back from punching the dude for being reckless when he skated past him as they were done. It would have been so easy. He could just stick out his fist while he skated by. It wouldn’t have been a hardship at all. But he knows he has to behave, so he concentrates on the next one, and then the next, and the next… and the next, feeling more agitated with each one.

He’s getting antsier with every failed lift and every messed-up twizzle. It’s not fucking hard! She taught him how just last night and he could do it with a blindfold on if anyone would ask him to. And those guys call themselves figure skaters? Ugh, it’s a disaster.

Halfway through, Dean can’t bear to watch anymore so he sits back down clenching his jaw as he forces himself to watch the rest of the incompetent losers. Honestly, he’d prefer to poke his own eyes out with his hockey stick rather than watch more of those pathetic fucks trying to moonlight as professional ice dancers.

Okay, yeah, he’s being dramatic, but that’s just how he is.

By the end of the dozen, the guys are being let go and told that they’ll get contacted. Dean gets scrutinizing gazes as he’s the only one who doesn’t make a move to leave but he doesn’t concentrate on that. Instead, he turns to look at how her coach watches him while Y/N talks to her. That Tran woman is a little frightening if he’s honest. Her eyes are accusatory and it makes Dean feel like he’s a kid again, caught doing something he definitely shouldn’t be.

The guys around him are still gathering their things as the two women skate towards the boards, and immediately, Dean sits up straighter and squares his shoulders. It’s his natural reaction, something he does when he thinks he’ll get a dressing down. Maybe he was too much of a distraction and now Mrs. Tran is going to rip him a new hole. He can’t be sure, but it’s a possibility.

“You!” The woman barks out and all heads around him perk up, including his own.

“Ma’am,” Dean stands up, ramrod straight. He’s never actually been in the military, but he can imagine that it feels a lot like this.

“You’re Dean Winchester, right? Forward for the Minnesota Wild?”

“That’s correct, but I’m not playing for them anymore, ma’am.”

Y/N stands next to the woman, grinning stupidly wide at his uneasiness, and Dean just kind of glares at her for a moment before his gaze returns to Mrs. Tran who’s eyeing him up and down.

“You have skates?” The coach asks.

“In my locker.”

“Real skates?” She adds, as if he’s a fool to think his skates are real skates.

“Um–,” Dean ducks his head, already trying to come up with anything that would make her see that he’s not a goddamn figure skater. But then Mrs. Tran turns to the male skaters who aren’t quick enough to make an escape yet.

“–you over there! What size are your skates?”

The scrawny boy – who remarkably didn’t have any problems lifting Y/N around at all – whips his head towards them before looking around to see if the coach means someone else.

“Yes you,” the woman says, a lilt of annoyance in her voice.

“Uh, size eleven.”

Mrs. Tran looks at Dean now, raising one single eyebrow, asking him a question without saying it.

“Size eleven, ma’am,” he provides.

“Good.” The woman smacks her lips before turning back to the boy. “You. Lend him your shoes.”

“But–” the skater starts to speak but he doesn’t get very far because the coach interrupts him again.

“–it’s only for five minutes, you’ll survive.”

Dean thinks Mrs. Tran would have made a really, really good drill instructor. Or a saleswoman. People would just buy anything of hers because they fear her wrath.

He sits down as the scrawny guy makes his way over to sit beside him. Reluctantly, he shoves the skates at Dean. “Do your feet sweat much?”

Frowning, Dean narrows his eyes. “My feet sweat a normal amount. Now, can we get this over before she makes us scrub the toilets in the whole building?”

“Yeah,” the guy mumbles, “she’s fucking scary.”

Dean starts to unlace his boots in order to get into the skates, “I almost pissed my pants.”

“Me too,” the figure skater says, “I might have a little.”

That may have been too much information and Dean blinks before he returns his gaze from the boy to his borrowed skates. Once he has them saddled, he gets on the ice. It’s not much different. He knows how to use his balance on the blades and Mrs. Tran at least lets him do a couple of laps first before she barks her next instructions that he should meet Y/N at center ice.

She’s already there when Dean comes to stand beside her, a smile on her face and he just knows that she’s making fun of him.

“Your coach is pretty fucking scary,” he gripes.

“Oh, I know,” she chuckles, “I’m sorry she roped you into this.”

“I think I’ll survive skating with you for a couple of minutes.”

She punches him in the arm.

The music starts and Dean’s not quite sure what he’s got to do. Like, at all.

Y/N looks him straight on, a glint in her eyes, “You remember the sequence of twizzles and the lifts we did last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Then,” she takes his hand and drapes it across the back of her waist. “Let’s do this.”

Before Dean can even protest – not that he would – she skates off, taking him with her, and they do one lap just skating in sync before she gives him the signal to start with the first set of twizzles diagonally across the rink.

The first lift is a little shaky as he’s still adjusting to having her in his grip, but Dean visibly relaxes after he sets her down. They go into another sequence of twizzles as she looks at him with a big grin on her face. He reciprocates, his feet working of their own accord, hands finding each other after swinging her around. Her joy when she’s dancing on the ice is quite contagious. He can’t help but let himself be pulled into her magnetic field, and all of a sudden, everything fades away and it’s only her and him on the ice, dancing to their own rhythm.

There’s a last lift, where he has to throw her and turn her in the air, and he’s a little wary of that because it needs a lot of trust. They didn’t quite perfect it last night. However, before the lift, she nods at him, smirking a little, as if to say that she does trust him, and yeah, there’s no way he’s going to let her fall. Dean nods back, a silent confirmation that means ‘I got you’ before he lifts her and throws her in the air. She spins once before he catches her again, one of his hands supporting her thigh and one on her chest.

He beams upon catching her and skates a straight line when he gently lets her down, still holding her close as she slides down his body. Her breath is warm as it fans over his face, and she’s smiling. He smiles too as she looks so goddamn happy, and mainly because it feels so fucking great to hold her close. She’s all soft and warm against his chest, and yeah, he could definitely get used to this. Not necessarily the skating part, but the holding her part.

“Remarkable!” A shrill voice cuts through, causing Dean to jolt back to reality. The music has stopped but he hasn’t taken any notice of that at all.

Y/N takes his hand as they skate over to where Mrs. Tran is waiting for them.

“Dean,” the woman says, “what do you say about going to the Olympics as an ice dancer?”

“Um–, I–,” he starts. Honestly, he’s never thought about it, and he doesn’t think he’s even good enough.

Y/N squeezes his hand and Dean doesn't even realize that their fingers are still linked together. “You don’t have to, you know?”

“He doesn’t have to, but I would suggest he thinks about it,” her coach provides, “He’s still a bit stiff and there’s a hell of a lot of work to do, but you two have chemistry. More than you had with any of the others I’ve seen today.”

Mrs. Tran turns to the boy whose skates Dean still has on his feet. “No offense.” The guy opens his mouth again to say something, but the woman has turned back to Y/N and Dean. “If you say yes, I’ll take care of everything else.”

He looks over at Y/N who purposely doesn’t meet his eyes. But still, he has to ask. “You want this?”

That gets her attention and she turns to him. Her lips are pressed into a thin line but she’s nodding and there’s determination reflecting in her irises.

Dean nods back before he turns to her coach. “And you think we really got a solid chance to skate with the best?”

“I don’t know about skating with the best,” Mrs. Tran says. It’s the first time he sees the woman smile. It’s bright, white, and quite frankly, a little bit frightening. “But I’m confident you’ll win.”

His lips stretch into a grin at that. “What do you say?” Dean asks Y/N again. It’s basically her call, he’s really just here for the ride. And yes, sure, he’d love the opportunity to go to another Olympics, but this is her thing and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get her there.

He’s so, so screwed, he realizes.

“I really wanna go.” She looks at him, squeezing his hand once. Her voice is a little low, as if she’s afraid that he’ll back out.

He smirks, “Then I want whatever you want.”

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#you are the reason #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean x reader #dean x you #nathalie writes

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Note

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted!

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #dr. reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #professor reid

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically)

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone.

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it.

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness.

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.”

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?”

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them.

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look.

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features.

“It might rain tonight.”

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction.

“You distracted me on purpose.”

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing.

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.”

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth.

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.”

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?”

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?”

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.”

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.”

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.”

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door.

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force.

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.”

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--”

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.”

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse.

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.”

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion.

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.”

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz.

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.”

He turns his head slightly. “You should.”

“Too bad.”

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.”

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.”

“A look?”

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.”

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?”

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.”

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.”

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.”

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.”

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came.

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.”

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off.

“Like what?”

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.”

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?”

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.”

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.”

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--”

“Your upbringing makes sense--”

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--”

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.”

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.”

And then I keep reading.

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag

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tangledstarlight · 4 years ago

Photo

...i said i was going to make it and well, here we are i guess. im so sorry for this.

Carlos Molina’s to Guide to Ghost Hood (title subject to change)

welcome to the 1st edition, maybe i’ll make a 2nd if i get inspired enough but also, this is such a mess already i don’t think the world needs a part 2 dfghg

Link to the power point is in the first reblog. (i’d highly recommend watching it for the full experience dfgh)

Link to ao3 also in the first reblog.

below the cut is the accompanying fic and description of the rules/guide.

The tape recorder lets out a low buzzing sound as Carlos presses a button on the side and stands it up between them on the dining room table. Julie shoots an amused glance at Reggie who’s taken up residence in the chair next to him, the two of them flipping open notebooks and clutching pencils.

“Where did you even find a tape recorder?” She wonders, stretching out a finger to touch the silver rectangle only for her hand to be swatted away by Reggie.

“Found it in a box of moms stuff and dad said we could order some tapes from amazon,” Carlos replies matter of factly, straightening up in his chair once he seems to have found the page he was looking for. “Right. Let's start off easy, shall we?”

He looks at her expectantly and Julie rolls her eyes, waving a hand at the two of them, “Lets.”

“Question one,” Carlos taps his pencil at the top of his page before squinting at her, “Did you conduct any séance related activities before the ghosts showed up?”

Julie blinks at him, wondering if he’s joking but the pair of them just look back at her, heads both slightly tilted and it’s at that moment that she realises how serious they’re going to be about this. It was going to be a long afternoon of questioning apparently.

“No, I didn’t conduct any séance related activities. I just put on their CD and they y’know, fell out of the sky.”

“Interesting, interesting,” Carlos mutters as he looks at Reggie’s notebook as the older boy writes her answer down, underlines something and taps it with his pencil that makes Carlos let out a small hm. “So you don’t know anything about the dark room? Didn’t make any wishes?”

“No,” Julie shakes her head, watches Reggie write something else down and tilt his notebook to Carlos. It’s weird, watching them communicate like that, like they’ve created a shorthand between them and don’t even require her presence to have a conversation. Which is obviously true because they’ve clearly discussed all this beforehand.

“You walked through Luke right? What did that feel like to you?” Reggie’s question catches her off guard and she looks between them, but Carlos is already looking at her, waiting for her answer.

“It was um cold? But also not. I--” she frowns, trying to think back to that first night in the kitchen when she’d turned around and walked through him. Back when she’s barely known any of them and was more annoyed by their presence then comforted. “It was weird. The first few seconds after I walked through him I just felt cold but then it was like a rush of warmth? You know when you get one of those random shivers that runs through your whole body? It feels all weird and tingly but also kinda nice? Like that.”

“Did it feel like you got a feel of Luke?” Carlos asks and Julie shrugs, a slight blush on her cheeks and somehow, despite the fact they can’t see each other, the two of them share a look.

“What’s the next question,” anything to move off the topic of walking through Luke and how it felt.

“Oh Julie is gonna be so pissed at you guys,” Alex mutters but makes no move to step in and stop the ‘experiment’ currently going on. He watches as Reggie tries to put a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, fingers phasing through the younger boy's jacket with a frown.

“She won't be pissed if it works,” is all Reggie says, face morphing into one of concentration as he slowly lowers his hand on to Carlos’ shoulder again.

For his part, Carlos bounces slightly on his toes, eyes fixed on the notebook in Alex’s hand in case they need to tell him something. And okay, Alex might not fully agree with the way the two of them are going about this whole thing, but he can’t say he’s not on board with it. Their whole stint as ghosts has been nothing but confusion after confusion that not even Willie has answers for. Does he think Reggie and Carlos are going to uncover some fundamental thing that makes them the way they are? Probably not. Will they maybe get him some kind of answer? God he hopes so.

Especially since there’s been small moments in the last few weeks where Ray and Carlos have been able to hear them even without them playing music or Julie nearby. Which had scared all of them. Thought it was nothing compared to Ray’s reaction when he’d apparently walked into the kitchen to find Julie and Luke hugging, only for him to vanish when they suddenly let go. It was a hell of a way to find out they could be seen if they were touching her.

“Oh!” Carlos suddenly exclaims, head whipping to look at his shoulder where Reggie’s hand is resting solidly on the fabric of the jacket. Alex feels his eyes widen a fraction and watches Reggie’s smile widen as he squeezes slightly on Carlos’ shoulder. “Oh my god! I can feel that!”

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers, grip on the pencil in his fingers growing.

“Hey! I heard that too! Quick! Write it down! 30 minutes and- and however many attempts it took!” Carlos grins, face turning towards him and Alex doesn’t even have time to feel guilty about swearing before he’s scribbling in Reggie’s notebook.

“Thanks again for taking me,” Carlos says as he pulls his seat belt across his chest and clicks it in, eyes drifting from his tia in the front seat to the little notebook resting on the back seat and the pencil that’s hovering just a few inches off the paper. Subtly he sees it tap on the page, once, twice, and he bites down on his grin, tucking his hands under his thighs to stop from bouncing in his seat. They’re ready.

“Of course mijo,” Victoria smiles over at him as she turns on the engine, fingers already messing with the buttons on the radio to find her favourite station. “I have to say I’m impressed. Planning ahead for your dad's birthday.”

“Mhm,” he agrees, his eyes on the notebook that he can just see in the rearview mirror. The pencils resting between the creases in the pages and he holds his breath as the radio jumps to a different station.

Victoria frowns slightly, her eyes darting from the road to the radio and back, hand reaching out to change it back. When it jumps to another station. And another. Carlos feels his eyes widen a little, legs bouncing on top of his hands as he watches the radio cycle through station after station, only lingers for a few seconds on each before moving on.

Finally it stops, the words of Despacito ringing through the car and it’s lucky they’re at a red light he thinks, because when Victoria tries to change it it jumps right back.

“What the f-” she starts, the furrow between her brows growing deeper and the knuckles on her hand that’s still gripping the wheel turning white.

“Can we leave it? I like this song,” he looks over at her with a smile, blinking in what he hopes is a completely innocent way. He’s pretty sure she’s too distracted by the radio to question it.

“Sure, sure,” she mutters, not even looking at him, eyes going from the road to the radio.

The song ends and from the corner of his eye he can see the pencil in the back moving, Reggie or Willie writing something down and he has to stop himself from turning around to see what it is. Instead he watches as tia starts changing the radio station again, her fingers never leaving the touch screen as if that was the problem. But the second she lands on her favourite 80’s classics station and is moving her fingers away it changes. Skipping through stations again until Despacito is once again filling the car.

It’s probably lucky that they’re at another red light and that there’s no one behind them because her eyes widen and she’s suddenly saying words in Spanish that he knows he shouldn’t know and is pulling over to the side of the road.

“We have to get out! The car is being possessed! Out, out Carlos! Come on!” Her seat belt is off and her door is open before Carlos even has a chance to process what’s happening. The notebook from the back is pushed in front of his face and he tilts his head a little to side to read Reggie’s familiar handwriting,

Too far?

“Maybe,” he whispers back, taking the notebook out of the ghost's hand as he starts to get out of the car, plucking the pencil out of the metal spirals and making a note about not pushing tia in a moving vehicle and to wait until after they’ve gone shopping first.

She’s got her phone pressed to ear when he joins her on the sidewalk, pacing up and down. Carlos is pretty sure there’s going to be a family dinner story time in their near future.

Luke watches as Carlos sets his tape recorder up, idly plucking out a half finished tune on his guitar in order to be seen and heard. He doesn’t really get the other boys interest in figuring out their ghostly state of being. The same way he doesn’t really care about finding answers to all of Alex’s questions.

They ate some bad street dogs. They died. Julie brought them back and then she saved them a second time. They can play music and sometimes be seen. He already has all the answers he needs and it’s two words: Julie Molina.

Would it be nice to know what the black room was? Sure. Did he sometimes wonder why they could be seen but other ghosts couldn't? Sometimes. Did he want answers? Only if someone was going to give them to him without having to do the work. Was he going to sit here and answer all of Carlos’ questions because it was important to him and to the others? Fuck yeah he was.

“Does that think pick up our voices even if we’re not playing and not near Julie?” He nods at the recorder on the table after Carlos hits a button.

“Yeah! It’s so cool too. You sound like, all static-y and I have to listen really hard sometimes because your voices fade in and out but they’re there!”

Okay, Luke can admit that is pretty cool, “That’s wicked. Maybe we should start using that to communicate instead of writing.” He was really sick of people commenting on his handwriting.

“Dude that’s genius! It would be like leaving each other voice notes!” He gestures in the air with his pencil the same way Julie does when she’s realised the issue with a verse and Luke smiles softly. He doesn’t know what voice notes are, but he’s glad he could contribute to the communication issue.

“What questions have you got for me then little dude?” He raises an eyebrow at Carlos as he flips through his notebook.

When he’d first knocked Alex down Willie never thought it would lead to him sitting in the Molina’s family living room, a whiteboard resting on his knees as a twelve year old shows him bar graphs and pie charts of information on ghosts.

There was probably some kind of domino-butterfly effect going on that had led him here. But he’s too busy trying to fit all his know ghost knowledge onto a whiteboard so Carlos can fill in the gaps in his knowledge.

Over the years Willie has met a lot of lifers, has interacted with a handful at the HGC but he’s never met a family like the Molina’s. Who found out ghosts were real and instead of running, or trying to profit off of them, had just...welcomed them into the family. Arms wide and hearts open.

And more than that, here was Carlos trying to get answers to questions that none of them really had an answer too.

“Black room, yes or no?” Carlos asks, holding up a flash card and a clothes peg, ready to add it to the line of string stretching across the room. It was already littered with other cards in an order that Willie really didn’t understand but seemed to make perfect sense to the younger boy and Reggie.

Not for me, or anyone I asked at the club, he scribbles down, turning to the board around.

“Just like we thought,” he nods to himself, taking two steps to the left and reaching up to attach the card, “An anomaly.” he whispers it to himself and Willie has to bite his lip to stop from smiling before remembering that Carlos can’t actually see him.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice from the doorway drags his gaze away from the lifer and the smile he’d been trying to stop spreads across his face, “How’s it going?”

“I don’t think we’re even half way through,” he chuckles, gesturing with one hand at the stack of flashcards and the charts he hasn’t even seen yet. “Do you understand this system?”

The exasperated laugh that leaves Alex’s lips is answer enough before he’s even shaking his head, strands of blonde hair dipping into his eyes and Willie wants to reach to move away, “Not a clue. They’ve tried to explain it to us but it makes zero sense to anyone but them.”

“Hey, Alex, stop distracting him, we’re working here!” Carlos’ voice makes him jump, head turning back to where he’s standing with his arms crossed and shaking his head in disappointment in the vague direction of where Alex is standing.

“Wait, can he see you?” Willie frowns, mind trying to remember if he knew this or not.

“No, he’s just really good at sensing us these days,” Alex sighs, but there’s a fond look in his eyes as he looks at Carlos, “He says it’s his ghost powers kicking in from how often he hangs out with Reggie and from all the failed teleportation experiments.”

“The failed what now?”

“Oh, you’ll find out. I think it’s section 7?” Alex grins, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the doorway and waving.

Willie turns back to Carlos feeling a little more confused than he had minutes ago but also much more intrigued about teleportation experiments. And if he could help get some answers for any of the many questions Alex had, that was cool too.

Carlos Molina’s Guide to Ghosting. So you became a ghost, huh?

(working title, subject to change)

By Carlos Molina, with special thanks to Reggie Peters and Willie Skateboard.

1st Edition.

Dedicated to Alex Mercer, so he can stop asking so many questions. We’re working on it buddy.

1. Tangibility

They can walk through anything (except my sister now, reasons still unclear).

Works especially well with walls, doors and locked vaults (see exhibit a)

When they walk through people it “allows them to get a feel for the person” – Reggie Peters. “It’s weird” – Alex Mercer. No comment from Luke Patterson as he was too busy staring at Julie.

2. Souls

Objects can be attached to their souls.

Still unclear if it has to be an object that they were close to in life, or if they can attach their souls to any object once a ghost.

Experiments with Reggie Peters are still ongoing. Updates will follow.

3. Being Seen

Can be seen by “lifers*” when they play music with Julie.

This is the first rule which only applies to our ghosts.

They can be heard when they play music without Julie. This is also unclear as to why, working theory is “Our music is just so awesome it transcends deaths!” – Luke Patterson.

Mr Willie Skateboard was quick to point out it’s “weird” and “ghosts aren’t supposed to be seen by lifers.”

4. Touching

Our ghosts can now touch Julie. The biggest change in their afterlife.

Still no explanation for it. Experiments are ongoing (see exhibit b)

Have witnessed Julie hugging the air many times only for Alex or Willie to appear. Same with hand holding. (see exhibit c for dads reaction)

5. Magic

Some ghosts have powers and abilities.

Willie* can control different types of technology. Appears to work best with cars. This we believe correlates with who a ghost dies.

In our expedition to test his skills he skipped through 15 different radio stations of Tia’s car until he found one playing despacito. Test was a success. Tia does think her car is haunted now however.

6. ???

There was a dark room.

All other ghosts interviewed had never heard of it before.

All our ghosts agreed it was weird and creepy.

We are choosing to pretend it didn’t happen.

Working theory: a hole in time that they fell through. Must find a way to test.

7. Teleporting

part 1)

Ghosts can teleport wherever they want in the world.

Only the most powerful can teleport a lifer with them (will keep attempting)

part b)

Our ghosts can pinpoint Julie’s exact location wherever she may be in the world.

Will be helpful if she is ever kidnapped, Julie however wishes they would stop using said power to find her in gym class.

“I already have find my friend activated” – Flynn had to say on the matter.

part c)

Julie can summon the boys to her if she concentrates hard enough. Came in handy when an evil magician tried to kidnap them.

Also possibly how they escaped the dark room, no way to prove or deny this as dad won’t let me eat a bad hotdog to become a ghost.

Working theory: magic of music and family

See Exhibit d

See Exhibit e

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #carlos molina #willie jatp #willie #ray molina #jatp #this is...this is really something that i made huh #why did i do this #i just. okay #you gotta read the power point as if carlos and reggie are presenting it btw #and reggie is wearing a sheet for the aesthetic

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk.

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,” he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves.

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger.

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them.

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool.

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds.

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him.

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern.

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.”

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug.

But Dick still took it that way.

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family.

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

-----------

Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome.

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point.

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 7 #bruce wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader x dick Grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #dick grayson reader insert #bruce wayne reader insert #batboys #batfam #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

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