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eepy-pleepy · 3 years

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It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

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sugamamacustard · 3 years

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Keeping you close

Pairing: Alpha! Rintaro Suna x Omega! Reader

Genre: Pretty fluffy and uh oops I accidentally got thirsty at the end. NSFW

Request: can we get an alpha suna and omega reader where someone’s flirting with them?

Summary: Your alpha catches some low-bit, pathetic excuse of an alpha trying to get with you and he’s determined to but a stop to it.

Author’s Note: So I’m like heavily debating posting a personal story on here, but I don’t know if it would do well? Like it’s a canon x OC AU With omegaverse? Idk like Akaashi and Iwaizumi end up on the same team-- which by the way, I read a story where Iwaizumi was an omega with Ushijima and Oikawa as his alphas and it was tasty.

Requests: Open!

NSFW Warnings: They mess around in a storage closet, fem! Reader (Before that, everything is GN), no creampie or swallowing children, but he doesn’t waste anything ;)

➵ Getting through the rough, and seemingly uncaring, walls that Suna put up wasn’t easy,

➵Not at all. But you did so.

➵ He pushed you away at first, but eventually let you in, and honestly, was glad he did.

➵You were the best thing to ever happen to him and he’d be damned if he ever let go of you.

➵ While he wasn’t always the easiest alpha to deal with, he tried for you. And it showed.

➵ It was obvious in the things he did, how he acted with you versus literally anyone else.

➵ He was softer with his words, kinder with his actions, and just made you feel like straight up royalty. Honestly, i’m kinda jealous ngl.

➵Because of this, you guys had a fairly healthy relationship.

➵Communication was strong between the two of you and honestly, it wasn’t very often one of you was jealous.

➵Though it happened once in a while and was normally resolved with minimal issues.

➵ Of course, there are always bound to be a few hiccups here and there.

➵ It’s how you both dealt with it is what’s important.

___

“He had no shame.”

“Admirable if it wasn’t for her boyfriend.”

Suna was seething as the twins whispered obnoxiously behind him, the trio watching as an alpha talked to you. You were obviously uncomfortable but Suna wouldn’t react until you gave him a signal.

In the very early stages of your relationship, you explained how you appreciated the space he gave you, and how he allowed you to fight for yourself. Even if it made his alpha growl and snarl. You appreciated it and thats all that matters.

Suna hid his balled up fists in his shorts, trying to ignore the absolute anger in his gut watching this male think he had a chance with his omega.

God, he wanted nothing more than to tear into him. With words or his teeth? Who knows.

He’d figure it out on the way.

He continued watching you, watching for the signal, like his life depended on it.

Looking over to him, you both made eye contact before you nonchalantly rubbed your elbow, making Suna perk up. Standing up, he stretched before sending a glance to the twins behind him. They stood as well, following Suna. He didn’t need them, but having three, tall, relatively well-built alphas come to scare the piss out of him sounded all the more appealing.

When they approached closer, you immediately chirped in excitement, running into Suna’s arms. He caught you, holding you close before growling at the alpha.

“I’d leave if I were you. Who knows when these two might bite.” Suna sneered, shielding you from the other alpha. You allowed him to do so, frankly happy to be away from the situation.

Unfortunate you didn’t realize the situation would only go downhill from there.

___NSFW UNDER THE CUT___

“Rin-ahh~ Rin, please-”

“Shut it. We’ll get caught.”

You whimpered into your forearm as Rin bit into your shoulder blade, thrusting into you roughly as your cried out. The storage closet was dark and cramped but it just forced you both closer, your sweaty back sticking to his jersey,

The squelching from your cunt dripping with slick and his cock sliding in and out of you. It was a delicious stretch that made you moan out in pleasure as he sped up. You tried biting your forearm to keep quiet but it was almost futile.

“I said quiet, Omega.” A sharp slap to your clit made you reel, whimpers leaving you. Suna was unrelenting though, pounding into you like your life depended on it. Your whole body was shaking with pleasure, your brain fighting between keeping quiet, and falling into the bliss.

“That asshole had his eyes all over you. Making you uncomfortable, acting like you weren’t bonded and marked to all holy hell.” Rin growled into your ear, speeding up his thrusts. His knot brushed against your clit, making you turn to bite into your lip instead.

“Fuck- Like he didn’t see you were mine. All mine. I don’t share very well, either.”

His hand reached to cover your mouth, his other falling to your clit and rubbing circles into the swollen bud. Your moans vibrated against his hand and before he knew it, you were shaking, cumming over his cock.

Your hips jutted against him, making him grunt into your spine. “Good fucking girl.”

Pulling out, he stroked himself a few times, squirting into your panties-- that were tight around your thighs-- and smirking to himself. His knot would deflate along with his cock, but until then, he would enjoy the show of his cum lacing your pretty underwear. Without another word, he tucked himself back into his shorts, soon hoisting your own underwear and shorts up your hips. You hissed at the new sensation but said nothing, moving to lean back onto your alpha. His hands massaged your hips while he held onto you, making sure you’d be okay to walk.

He even ignored his buzzing phone for a minute, letting you pick it up and show him. He wanted to growl at the message.

Pisshead Miya: If your done turning this place into a whore house, we gotta game to play

#alpha/beta/omega #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha/beta/omega AU #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu omegaverse #alpha suna #suna x reader #alpha suna rintaro #alpha suna rintaro x omega reader #alpha suna x omega reader #suna rintaro x you #haikyuu #custard writes

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ttuesday · 3 years

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May I pretty pls request some smutty HCs or a fic about how the VDL boys (or just Charles🥵) would react to hiding in a small closet together with their crush? If that makes sense lol

I LOVE THIS TROPE AHHHH

It was your idea to rob the Van Horn Mansion. You heard that it was abandoned and that some low level criminals were using it to stash money. It sounded like a simple job, so you and your favourite outlaw decided to go steal the cash.

As you searched the house, the approaching sound of hooves outside quickly caught your attention. Just before the criminals entered the mansion, you grabbed your friend and pulled him inside a small closet to hide in.

Arthur

Arthur stumbles into the closet, bumping against you as he did. "Oh," realising how small the space was and how his body pressed against yours, his face turns red "uh, sorry". He tries to move and give you more space but that's basically impossible to do.

He keeps his hands flat against the wall, hesitant to accidentally touch you in case you get uncomfortable. Arthur can't believe that this is happening. He's been secretly pining over you for a while so to be in this scenario with you is kinda like a dream.

Arthur glances down at you, still trying to comprehend how close you are to him. You look up to meet his eyes and Arthur suddenly becomes very aware of how near his lips are to yours.

"You wanna take the lead on this?" Arthur whispers to you, his voice husky as he gestures to the criminals on the other side of the door. If you'd prefer to wait it out then Arthur has no problem staying inside the closet with you for as long as you want.

Charles

Charles thinks it's a good idea to go into the closet. Ye don't know how many criminals there are so it's better to wait until they're relaxed in the mansion before ambushing them.

The second ye step into the closet, he sees how small it is so he distracts himself by listening for the outlaws. He likes having you this close to him but it makes him nervous so thinking of a good ambush plan keeps his brain busy.

Charles doesn't usually get nervous or flustered but this situation definitely gets his heart racing. "Do you mind?" he hovers his hands by your waist, awaiting your permission before touching you. I mean, technically your bodies are already touching because of the limited space but Charles asks anyways.

He speaks quietly, trying to come up with the best way to kill these guys as you rest your head on his chest. Even though he's talking about whether it'd be easier to slit their throats or use throwing knives, his voice is so calming and you can't help but relax into him.

Dutch

"Well isn't this quite the predicament" Dutch smiles. Dutch has been trying to charm you for a while now so being stuck in here with you is like a blessing from the gods.

He already has his arms wrapped around you and when you're not sure where to put your arms, Dutch guides you to rest them on his chest. I swear this man will turn his charms up to 110%

Dutch says he isn't too sure if it's a good idea to leave the closet with your guns blazing. Normally he would have no problem going out and taking on every single one of them but Dutch doesn't want the moment to end.

Bringing his hand up, Dutch's knuckles softly graze past your cheek. He promises you that you'll both get out of this safely. But Dutch won't make the first move, he wants you to do that so he knows you're certain about this.

Micah

Micah’s confused. He loves a good gunfight so to be suddenly pulled into a closet and away from the enemy is enough to really baffle his brain. But then Micah adjusts to how little space there is in this closet and he comes to the conclusion that the outlaws can wait.

“Well, ain’t this cosy” he chuckles lowly, sending a shiver up your spine. Of course Micah makes little remarks here and there, mainly insinuating how you pulled him in here cause you wanted him all to yourself for a bit longer.

It’s been a while since anyone’s physically been this close to Micah so although he acts like this is no big deal, this is something he’s gonna replay in his head over and over again for the next few weeks.

If you make any flirty comments back, it certainly takes Micah by surprise but he won’t actually do anything in the closet with you. After all, why should ye restrict yourselves to a small closet? Giving you a sly wink, Micah kicks open the closet door and starts shooting.

John

John goes rushing into the closet so fast, he nearly runs straight into the back of it. Thankfully you're there to stop him as he clumsily adjusts to the space. He's completely dumbfounded by how close you two are.

He tries to move to give you more room, shuffling around as his legs brush against yours. John has a million thoughts all hurrying through his head. Does his breath smell? Is it obvious he's nervous?

John keeps his arms down by his side but can't keep his legs still. They're constantly knocking off of your legs until you finally shimmy closer to him so he stops fidgeting around.

John’s very nervous but with you by his side, he slowly calms down. His biggest concern is you feeling uncomfortable with him being this close to you so when you come closer to him, John realises you don’t mind and he finally relaxes.

Javier

Javier's been sweet on you for so goddamn long. When you first pulled him into the closet, he was so focused on keeping you protected that his brain didn't comprehend how tight the space was.

He automatically pulled you close to him, his hand trailing up and down your back in a comforting motion as his other hand unholsters his revolver. It takes Javier a few minutes to relax a little and he looks around at the cramped room.

"Are you alright?" he whispers "You're not nervous, are you?". And no, Javier isn't referring to you getting nervous because you’re so close to him. Right now Javier wants to make sure you're not apprehensive from suddenly being stuck in a goddamn closet.

He doesn't know if you're claustrophobic or not so he tries to keep you calm and not focused on how tiny the space around you is. Javier assures you that you'll be out of there soon and if it’ll help you calm down, he offers to buy you a drink before ye head back to camp.

Bill

Bill is on high alert. He knows there’s criminals nearby and he’s readying himself for a fight. Considering you were the one that yanked him into the closet, he presumes you have a plan.

“So what’re we gonna do?” he asks, looking at you. He’s taken aback by how close his face is to yours and Bill’s cheeks quickly turn a rosy red colour.

Bill isn’t too sure where he should look or where he should put his arms but once you suggest he puts his arms around you so ye’re not in such an awkward position, Bill instantly obliges.

Bill let’s you take the lead completely. He knows you’re smart and will know how to get out of this. If you want to wait a little longer before leaving the closet or jump out and start a gunfight, Bill goes along with whatever your decision is.

Sean

Sean has a lot of adrenaline. Normally he gets excited when he’s around you anyways but now that there’s outlaws close by too, his adrenaline is at an all time high.

His eyes go wide when he realises how close you are to him. A part of him wants to throw caution to the wind and kiss you but another part of him completely freezes.

Sean can’t help but stare at your lips, debating whether it’d be a good idea or not. He tries to move in the closet and that’s when he properly feels it. Now all his past romantic thoughts are gone and he’s getting flustered.

“Y-you know, these just happen randomly” he blurts, gesturing down to his boner “so we can just pretend it’s not there if you like”. He thinks he might die from embarrassment.

#yo why tf did I make these so long lol #hope you enjoy them anon!#honestly tho these were v fun to write #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #rdr2 #charles smith #javier escuella #micah bell #john marston #bill williamson #sean macguire #headcanons #writings

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secondhand-trash · 3 years

Text

If I Only Knew Your Name

A/N: so this was an idea I got while mindlessly picking songs to listen to on Spotify’s Indie rock playlist and came across this one song that just made me want to write something about it hehe accidentally put this aside for a whole month but I’m so glad that it’s here now lmao I had a lot of fun writing this

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

Description: After a drunken night of passion, Atsumu had nothing he could find you with, not even your name. So he took the matter into his own hands and tried to search for you using the power of the internet.

Warning: drunken one night stand, suggestive descriptions, Atsumu is an embarrassment and I sure hope you cringe while you read it as much as I did when I was writing it

Word count: 9453

The song:

Young Love (feat. Laura Marling)//Mystery Jets, Laura Merling

One night of love

Nothing more nothing less

One night of love

Had left my heart in a mess

You woke up with a sharp pain spiking down your back, in a room you were sure you had never been to, on a bed that wasn’t yours.

Your head was heavy and every cell in your body screaming that you just wanted to fall asleep again when you stirred awake. You would have, had it not been the fact that you were not in your own room slowly started to settle in. There was a brief moment of blankness in your mind as you took in your surroundings. The room was still dim, the sun barely shining through the windows that were half covered by the shades. The domestic messiness crossed out the possibility that you were in a hotel room or some odd space behind the club you clearly remembered being at last night.

You did not move as your eyes glanced around the space. Trophies and picture frames were lining up on the shelf at the corner, all of names and faces you couldn’t match up with any of the ones that you remembered. The linen covers you were sitting under was sturdy on your skin, a dark red on top of brown sheets that you would have never bought for your mattress. The scent of the fabric was foreign to you, making your morning state of mind more and more alarmed at the amount of information you were trying to take in. You had to admit that it was very soft on the skin, not the slightest bit uncomfortable as it rubbed against your bare arm when the duvet fell off of your body as you sat up.

You felt a moment of frantic terror at the registration of your own bareness, with your legs feeling terribly cramped, waking up on a bed that you did not remember getting into.

Everything clicked when you stiffly turned to your side, and found someone laying next to you.

The broad back facing your side had you clutching the sheets up to cover your torso that now felt chilly with the lack of layers. The man, whose name you did not think you know and what you had done with him last night you could not remember but was certainly able to guess, was still soundly in his sleep. Now that you were painstakingly unable to ignore his presence, you picked up on the soft snores that lingered in the air, making your legs that were rubbing against each other under what you could only assume to be his spreads tense up as the picture of what happened to get you right where you were slowly got clear.

You would prefer not to think about it in detail, albeit the fact that it getting vivid in your mind sent a trail of heat from your core right onto your face and burning out the fuse in your head.

There was a slither of shame and guilt as you found yourself staring hazily at the man, his sculpted back spasming with each breath. Your hand gripping at the sheets in front of your chest only served to pull it further down his torso, revealing the dip at his waist and his arms that curled tighter against his body with a shiver. Blonde hair sprawled out messily on the pillow, and you felt chills creeping up your spine at the recoil of your fingers fisting those locks and brushing against the fuzzy patch of his undercut as he hovered above you.

Panting, grunting, moaning.

Your skin burnt up at the lingering feeling of a firm grip on your legs, the warm trail of his lips down your neck, and the unmistakable dullness between your thighs.

The heat settled into the pit of your stomach as a weight, twisting your guts until it resembled what felt like a bitter mix of shame and guilt.

Fuck, you slept with an absolute stranger last night.

You bite back a groan, slamming your hands against your face before letting them run down in a weak attempt to clear your head.

This was why you never go to clubs anymore.

The jolt of your body as you sat up straight pushed the sheets off of you and you winced at the soft whimper from the person next to you at the sudden movement. Your naked state was simply uncomfortable, not feeling like you were in your own skin at all as ironic as this was. You couldn’t help but hug your arms around your frame as you frantically looked around to see where your clothes and belongings were, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw the clothes you wore last night littering across the floor in all its messy glory.

Your clothes were all wrinkled up from the careless placement, a clear display of the passion and impulse when they were being taken off. Your hands were the same kind of frantic as you rushed to put everything back on, not caring about tugging them in properly or the fact that you did not even look into a mirror at all to see if you were at least presentable.

You did not hear the groan from the man that tossed over to his side on the bed as you slipped out of the bedroom, careful in softening your steps as you let the door clicked and darting your eyes around to see where the rest of your things were.

If you remembered correctly from the weak reconstruction of what happened last night, then your clutch should be somewhere near the door.

The giggle that slipped past your lips as he swung the door shut turned into a laugh when he latched onto you immediately. You could taste the hint of vodka lingering on his lips, bundling up your senses together with the warm breaths against your neck when he trailed down. It was like floating on a cloud, the way you latched yourself on this handsome man and he seemed to be unable to get enough of you. You barely heard the thump of what you were holding in your hand landing on the floor as your limbs went weak, swinging your arms around his broad shoulders when your mouth fell agape as he sucked down on the soft spot right on your neck.

It was right where you left it last night, the one and only clutch that you felt was suitable for you to bring to a club. There was a hint of hesitation as you rushed to pick it up, holding it in your hand when you thought of the person who you had left on the bed by himself.

What do people do after a one night stand? Talk? Have breakfast together? Or in your case, ask them for their name because you did not remember one thing that happened before you stepped into these doors?

Dear god, no.

So you did the only logical thing you could think of, and rushed out of the door without even looking back.

It wasn’t until you were far away from the apartment building you ran out of, the weight of your body shifting from leg to leg as you waited for the train to slowly drive into the station that something did not feel right to you. Your fingers fidgeted in reflex as you shoved yourself past the small gap between each person stuffed into the cart, a bad habit you had formed as a kid when you were nervous.

Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach when the lack of metal brushing against the tip of your finger finally clicked in your head.

You cussed under your breath, knowing exactly where the thin, gold band must be.

Miya Atsumu woke up with a pounding headache, in his own apartment that he forgot how he got back to, on his bed that somehow felt emptier than usual.

At first, all he could focus on was the clear hungover that he was suffering from. His tongue felt dry and he scrunched his face up at the bitterness as he tried to gulp. The half-drawn curtains were not doing it in shielding the sun that already came out, making him squeeze his eyes tight and blinked a few times before finally adjusting to the brightness. Stretching out on the bed, Atsumu whined at the soreness pulling at his muscles, feeling his joints pop as he arched his back and sprawled over to the other side of the bed.

He froze in place, arms still spread over his head and legs bundling up the sheets, before jolting up in one rapid movement only to wince at the horrible spinning in his head at the rush of blood up to his already heavy head.

Yet, dizziness and all that, Atsumu was sure that the feeling of someone being here with him last night definitely wasn’t just a drunkness induced illusion.

He groaned at the untimely pang of pain that pulsed at his temple, ruffling his hands through the locks of his hair that was tangled up from him tossing around the bed. The slight pull at his scalp at his impatient detangling method made him hiss, but it also served to get his wires just a little more sorted out than before.

First things first, he was very naked and combining that with the certainty that he must have had someone over, it wasn’t very hard for him to connect the dots. He ran his palm over the ruffled sheets, smoothing out the wrinkles and searched if there was still any hint of warmth left on the fabric. He cursed under his breath when nothing else but coolness met his skin, scolding himself for acting like a fool over some one night stand that did not even wait until he woke up to leave.

There was a lump at the back of his throat as he stayed there, holding onto the hovering position he took on the bed without a single thought.

He snapped out of it when he realised that he was in his own space, just staying still and letting time passed without doing anything. Atsumu had a strong feeling that if he stayed in bed any longer then he would just be miserable for the rest of the day and he really couldn’t afford it if he couldn’t manage to get over himself soon enough.

For all that it was, there was no bigger asset to his career than this very body that he felt like trash in right now, and god knows how much trouble he would get if people learnt that he let his performance slip because he couldn’t bounce back after a drunken hookup.

His steps were floaty as he climbed off his bed, stumbling into the bathroom and harshly gripping at the faucet. The water streamed out as a strong current and he splashed it against his face in a sadistic force. The coldness was stinging his skin, with no help from the way he rubbed his hands down his face and back up his chin.

He looked terrible, Atsumu thought to himself when he stared at the reflection in front of him. His eyelids were pulled taut with his hand, cheeks squished under his palm before he pulled away meanly. Bloodshot eyes made him wince and his face was so dropsy it looked like he had cried himself to sleep.

A loud slap echoed in the empty bathroom when he clasped his face a bit too hard in a desperate attempt to clear his head. He whined, rubbing the area that went numb and then heated up. There was a slight flush around the area he had slapped down, but he was feeling more in touch with reality afterwards.

Alright, so what happened last night?

It would be a lie if Miya Atsumu said he had never had one night stands. He would argue that he never go out with the intention for one, but sometimes one thing leads to another and it just happens. Some were good, some not really, some he hadn’t really think of until now when he was desperately thinking of what it was that led him to now.

He hadn’t wakened up with a hungover this bad in a long while. Being in a profession that demands that much of your physiques meant that there was not much room for the more self-destructive type of letting loose. It was strange, Atsumu pinched the center of his brows as one hand on the kitchen counter held his body still, he didn’t quite remember the deeds of what was happened once the door to his room was closed last night.

Wow, he looked up with eyes widened and huffed at no one, that was such a douchebag thing to say.

He, however, remembered the person that stumbled through the door with him in shocking vividness to even his surprise.

He would have to pretend that the lack of follow up did not send a blow to his ego, reassuring himself that there was no way it was because he behaved terribly that the person had to run off before he even woke up. He was bitter about the fact that they had left without leaving even a note, something he had no idea he cared about at all until this very moment when the silence of his home became just short of irritating in his pounding head.

Could have at least said ‘I had fun last night but I gotta go’.

Atsumu rubbed his temple, slowly rotating his arms backwards to get rid of that dull cramp.

Or maybe leave their number somewhere too.

He paused in his track, standing awkwardly in the middle of his tiny living room.

Did he want their number?

He shook his head violently to rid of the meaningless thought, an act he would immediately regret when he remembered that he was having a hungover as the dizziness made him stumble on his feet.

A crisp clang after he took a fumbled step to steady himself quieted all of the voices in his head. That was not a sound that aligned with what his brain expected from his worn-out room slippers kicking against the wooden floor. Atsumu held his head as the rang of what sounded like something metallic registered itself in his mind, blinking at the empty space right in front of his feet.

His eyes darted around the floor, searching for whatever it was he must have stepped on to make that sound. Atsumu was ready to settle for the possibility that he was starting to hear things when a quick flash of light from the corner caught his attention. He walked towards where it was, and slowly crouched down.

It was a ring, a very tiny one. It looked rather ridiculous being held between his calloused fingers, the thin golden band arching off the afternoon light that had shined on it. A very simple design with no gems or carvings along the surface, something very much so the opposite to his taste. He knew it was not his, from the size to the tone to the lack of anything all over its rim.

And then he remembered the first time he saw the ring, on someone else’s finger, just last night.

Atsumu would not classify himself as a party animal, despite the common speculation shared by people who knew him but not well enough. He could deal with house parties just fine, but clubbing had never been much of his thing ever since he woke up outside the back of a night club once with the worst ring in his ear he had ever experienced.

If it wasn’t part of his job, he would much rather be anywhere else than this overly opulent club that his team’s sponsor had booked up for their event. But business was business, and if he wanted to keep having his own room in away games then this was the price he had to pay.

Was it a nice club? He couldn’t say, but it sure was an expensive one if he was to make a guess based on the decor. So expensive that it was a bit tacky, if he dares to say. It was like the owner wanted to remind you that this was high-end and decadent. Imagine what you would see in a basic mansion on a real estate agent’s website, then dim it up and add many hi-fis, what you would result with was likely close if not identical to the space he was in. It was loud and hard to escape from, his ear pounding together with the baseline every time it blasted through He would never quite understand rich people, he thought to himself as he took a sip of his drink and scrunched his eyebrows together. He forced down the urge to poke his tongue out at the obvious taste of syrup, trying to pass it off with a cough into his fist as he plopped down on the barstool.

“How’s your drink?”

The smooth voice reaching into his ear was mismatched to the booming club he was in. Atsumu turned his stool to the side with a push with the heel of his uncomfortable leather shoes and was met with an entertained gaze. You sat with both feet on the footrest of the stool, a posture that seemed rather childish for the night club bar you sat in front of. With your bare forearms lazily placed at the edge of the bar table, your finger tapped casually against the rim of your cocktail glass, the pink liquid inside looking like it was glowing under the neon lights. He could not map out your features too clearly but your head tilted as you looked at him through narrowed eyes, a glimmer behind your lashes from the many lights that hung above your head.

Miya Atsumu was an adult now and in his adult mind, he knew that the proper answer he should give to a stranger asking about the sugary mixture he just poured down his throat was that it tasted decent, expensive even, like the club he was sitting in now.

“It’s kinda shit,” he felt a strange swell in his chest when you let out an unfiltered snort at his answer, leaning back with his arms folded in front of his chest as he licked his lips, “yours?”

You lifted up the glass and necked down the rest of the coloured water, smacking your lips as the sweetness spread in your mouth. “Like the type of stuff they mark up and sell to high schoolers who couldn’t buy real alcohol.”

The bartender at the side threw you two a sharp look and you two sat up straighter, before bursting into a fit of laughter. He supposed you had to be tipsy at the very least and probably so was he, what sober person giggled like a child over trash talking overpriced liquor at a bar? “Why are you here at this trashy place?” you asked, now resting your chin on your palm with your elbow propping you up.

You did not know him, Atsumu was almost delighted by the fact that you likely just struck a conversation with him because he was another bored person trying to escape to the sidelines of dancing bodies just like you with no other intentions. “Got an invite and couldn’t say no because of work reasons,” he wasn’t exactly lying, he just didn’t say that he was supposed to be one of the main guests of this function.

“Ooo...” you let out a soft whistle, tilting your upper body forward him, “are you a big shot?”

He smirked.

Yes. “Not entirely.”

“Hm...” you sat back, your smile pursed as you tapped your finger on the table, “not denying it, huh?”

The vibration of your hum sent shivers to his spine and he blamed it on the very spiked drink he just gulped down. Atsumu ran his hand through his hair, a move he discovered in his teenage years that could let him smoothly fixed his hair while also flexing his arm. “I try to stay humble,” he replied, earning him a playful eye roll from you.

The melting ice clinked in the glass when he held it up against his lips, still looking at you from the corner of his eyes as he tilted it and let the pungent liquid run down his throat.

You nodded, returning to the laid back posture you kept before he sat down next to you at the dim corner of the bar table when you realised he wasn’t going to say more. “Fair enough,” you pretended to sound disappointed, holding your hand out in front of you to swiftly turn your attention away.

“You?”

“Got dragged here by a friend who works for the organiser,” you huffed, “don’t even know anyone here besides from them.”

Atsumu felt the warm buzz of the liquor spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body, settling onto his face as a tipsy fever. He did not look away from you and he was sure it was exactly what you wanted, mindlessly toying with your hand as you faced away from him. Your shoulders pulled back as you slid the thin ring off your index finger smoothly with your thumb, twisting it with the tips of your fingers before letting it fell down another one, all while pushing your hips back against the stool as you crossed your legs.

“Nice ring,” he tipped his chin slightly.

“Oh, this one,” you held your hand out to him, spreading your fingers apart to show him. You pulled back just slightly when he reached out, grinning teasingly at him when he quirked his brow up.

“my grandma gave it to me before she passed away,” you sighed, caressing the band that sat on your finger dreamily, “shoved it into my hand on her death bed and made me swore to never lose it, said it was given to her by her first love when she was a girl.”

“Oh,” Atsumu let out a soft gasp, “oh wow, I-”

He rolled his eyes when you broke out into laughter, the longing expression all gone from your face as you let out a hiccup through your giggling. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

He clicked his tongue, letting out a huff, “Lying isn’t good.”

“Neither is talking to a stranger at a club but I’m still here,” you wet your lips as you flashed a childish smirk, showing him your hand again. He was certain that he was drunk now, because there was no other way he could excuse the pounding in his chest when you didn’t pull away this time as he reached out to hold your hand for a better look.

“I got this as a pack of 5 for 800 yen online,” you said proudly, “quite the deal, if you ask me.”

He hummed in approval, letting out a shaky breath when you slowly pulled your hand out of his grip, the tip of your finger ticking the center of his palm before you lifted it away. It sent electricity trickling down his spine, the feeling of your touch lingering on his skin even as you were steps away from him again, once again staring at him with a smile tugging on your face like you were waiting for his move.

Was it a challenge or was it an invite? Either way, he was ready to take on whatever you were offering.

“You still owe me some sort of compensation for toying with my poor heart like that,” he mused, mimicking the way you leaned towards him from before.

You sniggered, “And what do you want from a poor stranger like me?”

The music playing through the speakers stopped temporarily and for a moment, the projected light illuminated his figure briefly before moving to another spot. You had not taken a good look at him until now, knowing full well that the attractiveness of anyone under the pink, dim glow of the bar was not to be trusted.

But he was really, really good-looking, even when you could actually see his face properly.

The next song started playing and the party people on the dance floor cheered. The loudness that returned made your head ache and you scrunched your nose in annoyance as the dj yelled into the mic. Atsumu threw his head back as the music returned, tapping his finger against his jaw.

“How about,” he said, knowing that you and he were likely to be on the same page, “you make it up to me by letting me buy you a drink somewhere where the drinks aren’t shit?”

You chuckled at his unfiltered suggestion, your laughter slurring into a hum as you grabbed your clutch by the side of the bar. “I can make up to you,” you asked as you stood up, tilting your head to your side, “by letting you pay for me?”

He nodded, smoothing out his shirt as he got up from his stool too.

You shrugged, pressing your palm to your face to let the coldness of your hand calm down the heat on your face as you grinned.

“Take me somewhere nice then, big shot.”

Even through his tipsy haze, Atsumu was sure that this was the most irrational thing he had done in a while but as you took his arm while he pulled you through the crowd and out in the open after being stuck in the same space with many drunk and sweaty bodies afterwards, he was quite certain that he couldn’t care less whether this was stupid or not.

If he had any regrets about it, he would just blame it on the alcohol.

Now that he was staring at a fake gold ring you got as a pack of 5 for not even a thousand yen, Atsumu could only tear at his own hair in regret when he realised that he didn’t ask for your name or contact at any point during which you went from the first bar to one he actually liked, then to many other because there was no way he would get this drunk after just two drinks, and finally stumbled through the door of his own house, before you disappeared as if you had never been there at all.

It was all the alcohol’s fault, fuck alcohol.

It was not his first time taking a near-stranger home and even though he wouldn’t want to say it out loud to people, he also couldn’t guarantee that this was the last time either. He should just forget about it and move on with his day, maybe make some tea, maybe get some soup to cure this heaviness in his head so he wouldn’t make it too obvious that he hadn’t been taking care of himself the way he really should. After all, there was really nothing he could do about it since he didn’t know anything about you other than what you looked like and that you wore cheap jewelry. But it left a strange tightness in his chest when he toyed with the gold ring in his hand, knowing full well that drunk or not he did enjoy his time with you even before it really got to the fun fun part.

He really should have just asked for your name like a normal person instead of trying to look cool and mysterious the moment you talked to him at the bar.

Miya Atsumu let out a sigh no one was there to hear as he slowly accepted the fact that not only was he hungover, he was also hung up, and put the only evidence he had of you ever being there with him into the key tray by his door.

He would figure out what to do with it later but for now, he was starving.

So Atsumu set off for the only one place he could think of that couldn’t kick him out no matter how annoying of a customer he was.

“Say, Samu...”

Miya Osamu sighed, putting the plate he was drying at the side and let the damped towel fell from his hand onto the side of the sink. His twin had finished his food a long while ago yet he was refusing to leave, planting his face down at his counter like a pile of mush as he took up the precious space of Onigiri Miya’s bar seat. Osamu liked to think that he was a supportive brother , by all means. He fed Atsumu, listened to his childish whines and didn’t kick him out when he started getting so loud that the other patrons sent him a worried glance. Maybe he should have pretended that he was about to head out for errands when he saw his twin marching in, slumping down on the stool like he owned the place (Miya Atsumu claimed that he had unlimited access by relation, Miya Osamu denied it with his life and told all his employees to just kick his twin out if he said that bullshit to them).

He was so nice, Osamu thought to himself, he was far too nice.

“What is it?” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest when he heard Atsumu’s muffled voice.

“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone without knowing their name?”

Oh god, what was he up to again?

“Depends,” Osamu snorted, picking his towel again when he realised that it was nothing too serious that he should stop his work to listen to, “if it happens to someone else, then sure, maybe, everything is possible. But if you're telling me that you think you’re in love with someone you don’t know,” he paused, before breaking into a wide grin, “I think I might laugh.”

“Hey!” Atsumu yelled, his fist slamming on the counter as he snapped his head up. The bang caught the attention of several other customers at the shop and Osamu sent them an apologetic bow before glaring at Atsumu who was rubbing his aching hand for slapping it against the wooden surface. “I’m being serious,” he muttered.

“Alright then,” Osamu nodded absent-mindedly, "so what are you going to do about it?”

Atsumu’s raised hand froze in the air before he slowly, robotically put it down, down, down until it was back on the counter together with the rest of his upper body.

Osamu’s nodding got firmer now, letting out yet another snigger, “Thought so.”

Atsumu let out a groan, deflating onto the counter more and more with each whine. He looked sad and pathetic, even more so than he usually was and even Osamu who was born immune to whatever teary rent he put on was starting to get concerned.

“Was the sex really that good?”

“it is not about the sex,” Atsumu mumbled, leaning his chin on top of his folded arms as he sighed, “I just... think we had a connection.”

Osamu laughed, the ugly kind, and earned himself a sharp glare. “A connection, huh?” he giggled, “you’re down bad.”

“It’s not funny...”

Hiccuping as he tried to calm himself down, Osamu placed a hand onto the kitchen counter to steady himself as his body vibrated.

“I still think you’re overreacting,” Osamu took in a deep breath, catching up after finally regaining his posture, “besides, you’re technically a public figure, right? If you can’t find them, why don’t you just try and get them to find you instead?”

Atsumu’s hiss about how he wasn’t overreacting stuck at the back of his throat when paused and thought of what Osamu had suggested.

“Huh,” he sat up a little straighter, eyes rolling inside of their sockets as he pondered, “that’s actually not a bad idea.”

"Of course it’s not,” Osamu huffed, “I’m the smart twin.”

“What did you just-”

Osamu ignored Atsumu’s glare, turning around to resume his work now that he seemed to have fulfilled his responsibility as a brilliant, amazing brother. He gave it a month, no, two weeks max before his brother forgot all about this person and moved on as if Atsumu had never shown up in front of his door with puffy eyes and a love-sick expression.

Oh, he just couldn’t wait to hear all the excuses and denial when he brought it up again the next time they get into a petty argument.

It was a terrible idea.

The Inarizaki volleyball alumni group chat exploded when the first post of what would be many to come was published for the world to see. Suna Rintarou, always so quick with capturing his old teammates embarrassing moments, kicked Atsumu out before he sent out links, screenshots, and pinged every single member of the group who did not read his message immediately. Miya Osamu refused to speak up about it, keep denying that he knew anything about it.

“I do not know this person,” his fingers hurt from how fast he was typing, not even bothering to correct the typos in his message before hitting send to clear his name, “I have no idea what has gotten into him but I’m not responsible for it.”

He was, in fact, telling the truth. Osamu was just as shocked and wide-eyed as everyone else was when he came across his twin’s post on Instagram as he scrolled through his feed mindlessly after work. Let us just say that all his sleepiness was gone when he saw his twin’s pretentious selfie of him standing in front of a window (shirtless), his hand holding onto the frame as he looked out into the grey sky. The posture was optimal for him to flex his back, letting the light seeping out around his frame do the trick of accentuating his muscles. Atsumu’s face was not entirely in the frame but Osamu did not need to see to know that he had his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze lowered into a look that was supposed to convey the message of “wow look at me, I’m so sad, and I’m also hot”.

Miya Osamu felt a metallic ting in his mouth when he imagined Atsumu’s face, so heart-wrenchingly similar to his own, making that look.

He got spammed by the group chat as soon as he clicked out of the app in horror, refusing to look at that monstrosity any longer. Ginjima was losing his mind, Akagi sent out strings of just him keyboard smashing, Oomimi replied with a very concerned sticker and proceed to not show up again, Kita who was not actually on Instagram at all said it wasn’t very nice of them to make fun of their friend like that but also didn’t quit the group chat himself. Ojiro was the last one to reply, seeming to be rather irritated after Suna kept tagging him and tagging him until he finally went online. Unlike the others who were still comprehending what had possibly got into their friend, he sent out a screenshot but this time with the caption of the post highlighted.

“Is he ok? Did he got dumped or something?”

Osamu did not look at the caption before it was brought to his attention, already feeling the impact sufficiently enough from the visual itself. He felt chills running through his arms and spreading to his entire body when he glanced at the string of words, his face scrunching up in disgust at how any sane person could type it out with their own hands.

“My world had not seen light since the day you left it without saying goodbye.”

He silently switched his status to “do not disturb” when the group chat exploded once again, knowing exactly what this was and that he was fully responsible for the pain he was experiencing right now.

Osamu tried to convince Atsumu that if anyone saw these, the only thing it would persuade them to do was run away instead of reaching out to him but it was to no avail. He was convinced that this was romantic and if he kept it up, it would create enough buzz that would possibly lead the stranger he was hoping to stumble across one of these painfully awful posts and recognise him. The posts kept coming and every day, Osamu felt more and more of an impulse to just block him for good so he wouldn’t have to open his feed each day with the fear of seeing things he did not want to see.

One day, on a beautiful weekend morning, when he finally had time to sit down and have a nice breakfast without rushing, Osamu opened his feed to see a glorious picture of his twin chest down (shirtless) on the bed, with the camera panning up to close up on his face from below. The blanket covered Atsumu’s torso loosely, showing just enough of his waist but not too much that he would get flagged. He had the lower half of his face behind his forearm, staring into the camera with such a sultry stare it made Osamu’s skin crawl.

“If I can start over, I’ll give up all I have just for another night with you.”

Osamu nearly didn’t manage to hold himself back from spitting out the water in his mouth.

The word slowly spread among the community. Suna, ever the enthusiastic teammate he was, shared his recently discovered source of joy with fellow EJP Raijin member Komori Motoya, who in turn spammed the latter’s cousin who had no choice but to acknowledge his teammate’s questionable online presence. Sakusa didn’t think he could ever have such a reaction to something that was not physically there to bother him and proceed to show it to the nearest person he could grab in the locker room, but not without reporting the post for containing unsettling images.

If he had to suffer, then he must make sure that there was someone else suffering with him too. Sakusa had no intention of being the only person who had to see Miya’s pretentious bathroom selfie where he stared into the camera all while running his fingers through dampened hair along with a caption Sakusa did not even want to read in his head. The “someone”, captain Meian Shugo who was really not paid enough for this, sighed as he wondered if this was worth reporting to management as a potential pr crisis. Tomas, somewhat curious by the look on his captain’s face, asked if this was the current social media trend in Japan to which all the players present fought to clear that misconception from his head in order to defend their nation’s honour.

Bokuto looked it up after hearing about the whispers and chats between breaks. “Why, this isn’t that bad!” he said cheerfully, “There are people complimenting him in the comments too! Look!”

The rest of the team spent a good chunk of time convincing him that he should think more cautiously about it when he suggested that perhaps he should try to take on this dynamic posing style for his social media accounts too.

It sure did stir up quite the storm among his fellow athletes and the many fans that were wondering what exactly, or who exactly, it was that caused this sudden shift in his behaviour online. The few people who knew the reason for Atsumu’s melancholy, namely Osamu and some others who could not escape from a venting Atsumu, were almost certain that you would have to at least see his face somehow. If he was still hearing nothing, then it was probably about time he gives up and accepts that you just didn’t want anything to do with him.

One thing that these men who put their entire lives into volleyball failed to take into account, however, was that not every person in the world was particularly interested in the sport that lived and breathed. For people who only heard about the sport if the Olympics were coming up, whatever the players were up to in their private lives was probably not something they would care too much about.

Sadly, for Miya Atsumu, the exact person he was looking for was one of those people.

“The fans are starting to go crazy, no one has any idea what is going on with him,” you pulled your phone slightly further away from your poor ears as your friend let out an exasperated yell from the other end of the call.

They lost you when they started talking about this athlete they had a celeb crush on and how they had been acting very strange in their posts lately, realising that this would become one of their ramblings about people with names you barely remember. They bombed your phone in the middle of the day when they found out that their company would be sponsoring a sports team they were obsessed with and did not stop until you threatened to block them until they had calmed down. You still hadn’t forgiven them completely for disappearing out of nowhere after begging you to attend a company function with them all with the reasoning that if they came across one of the players that would also be invited, you could be there to stop them from embarrassing themselves. That was not entirely useful, given that they were whisked away by their colleagues not even an hour into the event and leaving you all on your own.

If it wasn’t for them, then none of the events following that night would have ever happened.

But the past was past and as they called you again to talk about how they were heartbroken because their fav might be seeing someone, you did not stop them, obviously, since you were a great friend.

A sigh called your attention back and you silently closed your dash of animal videos to focus on what they were saying. “Are you even listening?”

“Uhm...” you hummed, “emo thirst traps, you were saying?”

“We tried to dig down all the accounts he was following but no one was posting anything that might match up to his posts,” they let out a whine.

“So,” you said, “are you still going to see him this weekend even if you are heartbroken or?”

They gasped before you suggested that if they didn’t want to go anymore, then you would do something else rather than sitting through a game you were not interested in. “Of course we’re still going!” they emphasised on the ‘we’, “who knows when I’ll get front row tickets again once the sponsorship ends and they aren’t giving the company tickets anymore!”

They paused. “You’re still going with me,” it sounded more like a threat and a statement than a question, and they asked again when you didn’t reply, “you’re going with me, aren’t you?”

You sighed. They were usually pretty laid back, except when it has something to do with volleyball. What was it with volleyball? It was like... football but with hands, tennis without a rack, basketball but with no basket. Ball sports, they were all the same in your eyes. But despite your lack of interest, the truth was that you wouldn’t have anything else to do if you didn’t go with them anyways and you did promise you would go as long as you didn’t have to pay a single dollar.

So you sighed again, earning you a displeased click of the tongue from the other end of the call.

Your lack of interest maintained when the day came. You didn’t think you had ever been to a stadium when there was a game going on before and the arena was already filling up with people waiting to get it by the time you were there. You were delightedly surprised when you learnt that there would be vendors selling food, silently deciding that the very nice yakionigiri you got from one of the stalls might just be the highlight of your day.

The staff at the store looked vaguely familiar, but you had no idea where you would have possibly seen him before.

When the lights of the venue switched off out of nowhere and the crowd cheered, perhaps you could finally start to understand why your friend was such a fanatic for sports. There was something exciting and grand about the bright spotlights and the announcer’s voice pounding through your ears from the speakers. You peeked at your side to see your friend’s eyes glimmering in a way you had never seen before and chuckled to yourself, leaning back with your legs crossed to watch the game in a better position as the players’ names were called one by one.

You froze in place when you saw a very familiar face on every screen around the stadium.

“Number 13, Miya Atsumu!”

What happened to not being a big shot?

Screams filled up the stadium, especially ear grating when the loudest person seemed to be the one right next to you but your mind was an utter state of blank. You were not expecting to see him again, ever again but here you were, with the next several hours of your life stuck watching the man you ditched after a drunken one night stand in the very front row. He looked more put together than your last image of him, the tussled hair replaced by a careful side swoop and the fitted jersey giving him a fresher look compared to the suit he met you in. He seemed to enjoy the attention, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he marched out and waved languidly around the stadium.

You thanked the genius who separated the court and the seats into two floors, hiding you away with the distance even though you were sitting at the very front.

“Oh my god, he’s looking at this direction, he’s looking at this direction!” your friend’s vigorous tug at your sleeve brought your void gaze back to the court.

You were convinced that there was no way he could spot you from that far away. Hell, it was still up to question whether he could see any of the audience with all the lights shining onto his face. But for a moment, just a brief moment, you had a gut feeling that your eyes met in that split second when you looked down and his gaze stopped at right where you were.

“What are you looking at?” Hinata asked, turning his head to the direction Atsumu kept stealing glances at as they lined up in front of the net but saw nothing.

Atsumu shook his head, giving a laugh to pass off the moment when he lost his composure when he thought he saw the face he kept thinking of since that night in the crowd. It has got to be an illusion, he must have been blinded by the lights. Stupid lights, he cursed under his breath before turning to his teammate. “It was nothing,” he smiled, his gaze shifting to the corner he thought he saw you at before quickly snapping back to the court, “just... thought I saw someone I know.”

He did not look at you again throughout the game much to your relief. But this time, you found it hard to stop your eyes from following him around. You would like to argue that it was because you didn’t know any of the other players and the way your friend kept gushing whenever he did something made it hard for you to ignore him but the way he seemed to flourish on court. Something inside of you jumped whenever he scored a point and the live cameras panned up at his face again, showing the satisfied grin and slanted eyes plastered on him. He did what he does so well and with so much confidence and for some reason, that explained to you just why you decided to leave with him that night at the club in the strangest way possible.

He was, still, very good-looking even under the lights and under your sober judgement, perhaps even more so than your blurry memory of how he looked like with a flushed face. But the true hit to your chest was when the entire stadium was watching him as he got to the serving position, taking strides forward before raising his hand to the air.

The world stopped when the entire ground fell to silence at his command, and you took a deep, shaky inhale when you thought of how this person had kissed you again and again on a drunken night until you were both out of breath.

Atsumu was almost 99.9% sure he truly did see you when the match ended.

That last 0.1% was deducted because it was a really good match ending with a win for the Black Jackals and as hot-headed as he could be, he knew better than to believe everything that his adrenaline-filled brain was trying to tell him. But with the spotlights of the stadium dimmed and his full attention no longer required on the court, Atsumu looked straight at where he was sure you had sat the moment the stadium doors opened and people started leaving. It was a blurry glance, just a quick in and out of his vision but he was sure he saw you slipping out of the front row before disappearing into the stairs.

He knew he could still be wrong, but the sudden realisation that he might be the closest to you now than he would ever be again left him frozen in the middle of the court as he stared blankly at the exit. Reporters were starting to gather around the players and his presence was expected, but his legs started moving before the call of his name by the rest of his team could land on his ear.

Pushing through the crowd, the gasps and shocked chatters of the guests who saw the player they just watched dashing out the stadium were none of his concern. All he cared about was to run faster, faster, past the hall and past the people of the stalls that were packing up. He might have just mistaken someone else for you and if it really was you, you might have already left before he could get to the front entrance of the stadium but that did not matter. The only thing that mattered to him right now was that you had been there and if he ran fast enough, there was still a chance that his search all along would not be in vain.

Miya Atsumu was not exactly a believer of fate or a divine destiny but as he stumbled with tired legs down the steps of the grand glass door, he silently made a bet with the beings he wasn’t sure were truly there that if he missed you this time, he would take the defeat that your paths were not meant to cross again and give up.

And the beings, who Atsumu believed was actually there for the first time ever, answered his calls.

“Wait!”

Your feet planted into the concrete when you heard a yell behind you. Your jaw dropped when you hesitantly turned around to see him, whose name you now know thanks to the match, stopping just a few steps away from you with his hands on his knees, seemingly out of breath with his arm reached out. His eyes widened when he looked up and saw that you had stopped there, and you were exactly who he thought you might be. He was heaving, sweat drenching his face but he still took a few stumbled steps towards you until he was right in front of you.

A few words fell out of his mouth but were cut short by his panting. Your head was still not reacting when he finally managed to stand back up, looking right at you even as his breathing stayed erratic.

What does one say to a one night stand that they ditched right when the morning comes?

“So,” you blurted, trying to ignore the heat on your face and the anxiousness in your chest, “not a big shot, huh?”

He let out a snort, his voice cracking as he ran his hand down his face to wipe away the sweat that was starting to get into his eyes. He could finally take the time to look at you now, after confirming that you would not disappear if he did so little as blink.

You were gorgeous, and suddenly all the things he had wanted to say to you sounded ridiculously stupid.

I tried to look for you.

“You left your ring at my place,” he said, his voice still shaking from the sprint he took, growing softer and softer with each word that came out.

“Oh,” you replied, nodding stiffly to try and brush away your nerves.

“Yeah,” he nodded too, and opened his mouth again after taking a gulp to swallow down the knot at the back of his throat, “we should arrange a time to meet so you can take it back from me.”

“Oh,” you stood just a little straighter, “but-”

But it was just one of the five I got in a pack so it really, really didn’t matter that much.

“You said,” he looked down, holding back a smile as he thought of what you had said to him, “you said your grandma made you swore to never lose it.”

He remembered.

“Yes,” you pressed your lips together to stop the chuckle from coming out, “yes I was.”

“So you should come and get it back from me,” he suggested, the last note of his sentence going up as if he wasn’t sure of himself either.

“Yeah,” he beamed when you smiled sheepishly, “I should.”

“Ok good, good,” he murmured in joyful disbelief, grinning ear to ear. The grin faded suddenly when he thought of one very important thing he had forgotten to do last time and must not forget this time.

“Can I have your name?”

You burst out into laughter. “You can have my number too, if that’s what you want,” you mused, “Miya.”

A rush of heat washed through his face at the sound of his name out of your mouth. He would die if you call him by his first name later on, he was sure of it.

“Yes,” he said almost embarrassingly fast, “yes I would love that. I-” he groaned when he realised that he still had his phone in his jacket that was left in the locker room.

“Wait for me here,” he had already started walking backwards, snapping towards you with his hand out as he added in panic, “don’t go anywhere!”

You still hadn’t stopped laughing when he sprinted back into the stadium again like his life depended on it.

Bonus

Miya Atsumu deleted all of the posts he made during his search for you the moment he added your contacts into his phone, but what he did not count was that there were other people who would preserve those precious memories for him.

It was a few weeks after he caught up to you in front of the stadium and several days after your relationship went public. Your friend had nearly torn your eardrums apart when they learnt that you were the mysterious person they had been hunting after but overall, dating Atsumu had been great, even to the point where you thought it was so stupid of you to run away from him in the first place.

You got a notification that someone direct messaged you on instagram as you were getting ready for a date night.

It was not someone you know but there was a verification mark next to his username. Clicking into his profile, you assumed that it must be one of Atsumu’s friends in the volleyball circle when you saw the line saying “EJP Raijin middle blocker”.

“Hi, I’m Suna, I was on the same high school team as your boyfriend was. I don’t think we have met but I’m sure we will be very good friends.”

Before you could manage to type out a reply, he sent you multiple pictures and you paused as they loaded, wondering what Atsumu’s old high school teammate might send you.

You blinked when the pictures finally finished loading, and silently dialed your boyfriend’s number.

“Do you have something you forgot to tell me about what you have done in order to try and find me online?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu imagines

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wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

Text

Kinktober day 24 : hair pulling

Konganegawa x Reader

warnings: smut, public indecency, size kink, hair pulling, rough sex

word count: 1,000 (about)

summary: you accidentally turn your boyfriend in public and your pussy pays the price.

Things started to go wrong on the train ride home. Konganegawa was used to being a human shield for you in the cramped cars, having your back pressed against his chest, with one of his arms wrapped around your waist so no one could bother you.

It was raining, so the train was particularly packed. Normally people would give him a bit of space just because of his size but today there were just too many people for anyone to have much room to themselves. And you were closer to him than normal as well. With every turn the train made, you fell back against his chest, your ass brushing against his crotch.

The first time It didn’t do much more than send a jolt through his body. But it just kept happening, until he was fully hard. He was surprised you couldn’t feel his boner pressing against your backside.

“Babe,” he hissed into your ear, trying to get your attention while still being quiet enough that no one else would listen in.

“Hmm?” you asked, craning your neck back to look at him. He flushed and bit his lower lip, he didn’t know what to do now that he had your attention. Konganegawa shifted his grip on your waist to grab your hips and pulled you back flush against his dick. Your eyes went wide, telling him that you felt that.

“Sorry, Do you want me to move?” you asked, trying to push forward, but before you could get forward he snapped you back against his body.

“No then I can’t hide it,” he whispered, besides he thought he’d miss your contact if you moved away from him. Just then the train lurched to the side and you fell back against him again grinding hard against his cock. It was such a surprise Konganegawa let out a gasp loud enough that several heads snapped to face him. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as you righted yourself.

You turned in his arms to face him “sorry you whispered, you glanced down to check the tent in his pants. “I c-can help if you want, it’s kinda my fault anyways,” you whispered. If it was even possible Konganegawa felt his cheeks turn even redder.

“Right now,” He squeaked. What was this? porn? His mind filled with images of him subtly slipping his cock under your skirt and moving slowly in and out of you trying not to get caught.

You smacked his chest “no not here you pervert! I just meant- like come over to my house we’re almost to our stop,” you explained. Oh. he nodded.

The rest of the train ride was painfully awkward, but it was somehow worse when you got off the train and he had to walk to your house while hiding his erection. But finally, you made it to your house and behind closed doors.

“Sorry, Konganegawa, I really didn’t notice,” you said, rubbing your legs together nervously. You were scared to admit it out loud but you couldn’t help but be a little turned on yourself after realizing you’d accidentally been riling him up, and maybe you’d started grinding on him intentionally, feeling his body tense when you brushed against his dick. The moan he’d let out on the train replayed over and over in your head.

“It’s fine,” he huffed. “You’re really going to help me right?” his fingers twitched with anticipation and want to touch you.

“Yeah I meant it,” in a flash, he was on you. For someone so big, you often forgot

how fast he could move. He kissed you sloppily as the two of you stumbled back. He was like an excitable dog having his favorite toy dangled in front of his face. Konganegawa pushed you down onto a nearby desk, you were still basically in the middle of the hallway.

“Need you now- Is that okay?” he gasped before you could answer he started begging “please baby I need to I need to fuck you so bad please,” he moaned shamelessly humping your thigh.

“Yes please Konganegawa I want you to fuck me,” you assured him. He flipped you over, pressing your ass to his groin.

With one hand he released his straining cock from his pants, the head of his dick was red and leaking, it was lucky you’d gotten home when you did, otherwise, he might have leaked straight through his pants. With the other hand, he flipped your skirt up and unceremoniously shoved your panties to the side. God he wanted to give your soft little pussy the treatment it deserved, really worship your soft cunt, but he felt like if he didn’t get his cock inside of you right now he’d die.

He threaded his fingers through your hair raking his nails across your scalp. Before tangling his hands in the treads of your hair and yanking. You hissed, your body jolting at the pain that slowly faded into an achy sort of pleasure. Konganegawa felt his cock throb at the noise you made. He pushed into you in one fluid motion, feeling your walls constrict at the sudden intrusion.

Again, you moaned in pain, but it wasn’t quite the same, so again, he tugged on a fist full of your hair.

“K-Ko, that hurt,” you whined needily, but the way your cunt gushed around his cock told a different story.

“I think you liked it, baby,” he grunted, slowly rocking his hips back and forth, trying his best not to cum right away. You didn’t respond verbally but the way your walls fluttered around him told him all he needed to hear.

“I’m going to fuck you so good baby, fuck you feel so good, gonna make you feel so good,” he rambled incoherently tugging on your hair in random patterns keeping you guessing when the next tug would come. With the way your insides were slowly turning into soup, you had no doubt that he would do just that.

#Konganegawa x reader #Konganegawa haikyuu #kanji koganegawa #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #kinktober

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years

Text

Inextinguishable Fire | Chiluc Week Day 1

Fake Dating/Accidental Confession/Roommates AU

Chiluc Fluff

Tw: Mentions of a Stalker

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“Ajax! I need your help!” He chimed, his pale knuckles knocking lightly on the door. The sound of creaking soaked through the door, floorboards cried under his weight as his shadow shifted beneath the door. The faintest sound of a groan resonated through the door as it was slowly opened.

The sunlight from the apartment began to creep into his dark room, it’s darkness swallowed around the tall, pale figure before him. The veins in his hands moved as he gripped at the door and it’s frame, his muscles stretching as he curved his back in a weak attempt to pop it. Whatever he had done last night must’ve been eventful, bruises littered his knuckles as cuts and scratches tore at his skin with every breath.

“What’s up Sparky?” He groaned, the sound reverberating through the quiet hallway as he yawned, his bed head unruly as it curled and stuck out in different directions, his sleepy tears rolling down his freckled cheeks.

“I have a problem and I need your help.” Diluc had muttered, determined to fix his gaze upon those ocean blues that drowned him shamelessly with every look. They’d look down at him, up at him, study him and care for him. An overwhelming tsunami sure to swallow him whole and send his head underwater, taking away every breath he took.

“What kinda problem?” Ajax was intrigued. A problem? Whatever this problem was it obviously stressed him out a great deal — his hair was a frenzied mess, curls displaced down his back and along his shoulders from where they had been agitated; probably from where he had been running his fingers through it. Even in his sleepy haze, he could see his fingers were irritated, most likely from scratching, and his lips were chapped, his bottom lip with patches of raw skin, swollen and bleeding. He’d been chewing and pulling at the skin of his lips.

“So you remember why we’re rooming? Because I had a stalker on campus?” He worried, starting to scratch at his neck, most likely from anxiety.

“Yeah…I remember very well. They tried to break into the dorm you shared with that Albedo guy. I chased ‘em off,” he groaned, rubbing at his face, trying to rub his drowsiness away, “What about ‘em? Do I need to beat the shit outta them?” He murmured as he studied the man before him.

“Well…no, not yet I don’t think. That’s not…”

“What’s wrong Diluc?” He whispered gently, his voice deep and raspy from having just woken up. His voice alone was enough to send a shiver down Diluc’s spine.

“I’ve been invited to a double date and the people who invited me think I’m dating you and I don’t know what to do so I came to you thinking you’d know what to do and even though I know how to protect myself I’m still not comfortable knowing there isn’t a restraining order on that stalker so I figured —,”

“Diluc, slow down. You’re rambling, I need you to have mercy on me here,” he laughed as he reached for a t-shirt, “Look, I get this is making you anxious. Why not just tell them you don’t feel up to hanging out right now? Better yet, invite them to the apartment, I don’t care.” He slipped the tee on, the collar hang forward from where it had been stretched out.

The idea of ‘asking another friend’ really wasn’t much of an option for Diluc. He had far too many trust issues and the only reason why he’d hung around Ajax was because he was there the night the stalker had broken in, talking pictures of him and stealing precious items. Had it not been for Albedo’s attempt to stop him, Ajax wouldn’t have heard the ruckus.

“Look, I need you to calm down before you tell me. I can’t keep up when you anxiety ramble,” he smiled softly, nodding to the living room, “Go sit on the couch and wait for me, I’ll brush your hair out and you can go from there okay?” For someone as flamboyant as Kaeya — maybe even more so — he was rather calm in the mornings whereas Kaeya would be loud and dramatic.

Striding along their shared apartment, he sat on the couch as he listened to the winds howl and the birds chirp. He remembered telling the pair he had online classes to worry about, the classes becoming stressful, only adding to his exhaustion after the stalker incident. Feeling the sofa dip behind him, he relaxed instinctively as he sat behind him, pulling his hair behind him before he gently brushed at the hairs, careful not to snag a single strand.

“So start from the beginning for me,” he said calmly, his fingers carding through his hair with each stroke of the hairbrush.

“I was invited to a double date…,” he whispered, slumping forward just a bit as he fiddled his his fingers.

“By who?”

“By Albedo.”

“You’re old roommate?” Diluc nodded as best he could, his weight sinking into the cushions beneath him.

“Why not just invite him and his partner here?”

“I tried but he said he doesn’t want to be a bother and he’d rather pay for coffee down the road.” He sank into his touch as he lightly massaged his scalp.

“And you said he thinks we’re dating?” Diluc hummed, tilting his head back, melting under his touch.

“Yeah, I couldn’t get a word in over the phone, I tried to tell him we weren’t and he didn’t believe me.” He sighed, some of his tension leaving his body.

“And you’re worried about that stalker again?” Diluc hummed again, his eyes closing as Ajax braided the sides to pull into a small ponytail, draping the rest if his tamed hair over his shoulders and down his back.

“Then we’ll go and just call it a fake date.” He shrugged, his hands leaving the tamed red locks his fingers were busied with.

“The two of us on a fake date?” Diluc had thought of it, he just hadn’t expected for him to have the same idea, “What would we even do, how would that —,”

“Dont stress about it too much, just follow my lead,” Ajax soothed, brushing a piece of his hair behind his ear. It was brief when Diluc looked away, Ajax’s eyes stealing a glance at his red lips, his gaze lingering a moment longer than he would’ve liked as the other stared off at the pristine, white wall.

“Look, if it bothers you that much then I’ll just go as company alright? No need to worry your pretty head Aphrodite,” Diluc’s skin burned violently as his mind began to crash, he could feel himself drowning once more, water filling his lungs and his throat as a light kiss was pressed to his temple.

“Why did you —,”

“We’re fake dating right? We gotta make it believable Rosebud, might as well get a head start,” he chuckled as he walked back to his room to get dressed, “Let me know what time we’re leaving,” he called down the hall, his voice bouncing and echoing down the cramped space as Diluc sat mindlessly on the sofa. God, he could be so insufferable sometimes. His fingers feathered over his temple, the ghost of his lips setting his heart aflame as he scoffed. Sure, he helped when he was needed and slept most of the day because of his night classes, but he could be so…so annoying.

An hour had ticked away along the clock’s hands, Diluc looking on in severe distaste at the basic tee and jeans Ajax had chosen. It was so basic Diluc couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he drug him back to his room, rifling through the other’s wardrobe, desperate to find something better for him to wear.

“Take that off, before I rip it off you,” Diluc’s tone was bitter, as he glared at him.

“So forward Diluc,” Ajax snickered, pulling the t-shirt off slowly, teasingly, loving the irritated noise that squeezed itself past Diluc’s throat. His touch against his skin was scalding as he took his shirt off for him. It made his heart flutter and burn like a forest fire in his chest with each breath, becoming far more dire with every inhale — dire for the need to touch him delicately, to let his fingers gingerly trace the underside of his jaw and press chaste kisses to his neck. He swallowed thickly, knowing his pale cheeks were burning with his hidden passion, the tips of his ears must have been burning as bright as the other’s hair. If they had, Diluc had chosen to ignore it, surely.

“Put this on.” Clothes were pushed to his chest, an assortment of colors that worked beautifully together, “I think a slate grey would look better, it’s softer,” he started to ramble, right, he was studying to be a fashion designer, he was also a minor in art, “No, no wait,” he went off, fingers gently skimming against his clothes, “Try this instead,” he handed him another outfit, taking away the sweater and pants he had handed him previously.

“Diluc, it’s a fake date…,” he whispered slowly as Diluc went back to looking through his clothes, “Why are you dressed like it’s a fancy outing, wearing heels, and going so in depth with clothes?”

“Well, Ajax,” he hummed with a swift turn of his heel, his hair spinning as he lifted the other’s chin with his finger, sending Ajax reeling from his spot on his bed. Don’t even get him started on the way he said his name like that, “One, it’s called having a taste in fashion and being a minor in art. Two, they aren’t heels, they’re dress shoes,” he leaned in closely, a smirk danced uncharacteristically along his features as his breath fanned over his lips, “We gotta make it believable…Seerose.” Had it not been for rooming with him for four months his German would have been rough. He…he called him Water Lily in German. The perfect payback really. Ajax laughed lightly as the finger slipped from his chin as he stood up.

“Alright alright, I’ll be out in a moment.” Diluc had been grateful he had the other by his side, his heart hammered in his chest.

“How do I look Firefly?” He chimed, a cheesy grin on his face as he walked back into his room.

“Better,” Diluc was pleased with the outfit. It had gone silent rather quickly, the incessant buzz of the AC being the only noise that had filled the room, “Hey…I have a question.”

“Shoot Sparky,” Ajax relaxed, slouching back just a bit as Diluc eyed him, watching his every move like a hawk.

“Did you want to go on the double date with me?” Ajax’s face flushed. Yes, yes he absolutely wanted to…but how could he admit that so casually?

“Just thought it’d be a cool idea, that’s all.”

“A cool idea?” Diluc had doubted that with every fiber of his being. He could tell by the way he spoke and the way his body had tensed up there was something up.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugged, his body going rigid.

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“I said you’re lying.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time but what makes you think I’m lying?”

“You’re too tense.” He said simply, stepping closer eyes cut to examine every bead of sweat that formed on his face, every freckle and every line in his forehead, “Why did you propose the idea of a fake date, and be honest.”

“I am being honest!” He panicked, he could feel his body begin to flare with heat as Diluc walked closer and closer.

“No you aren’t Ajax.”

“Why does it matter?” Ajax argued, as he took slow, consistent steps back.

“Because I’m the last person you should love—,”

“So what if I do?!” Ajax’s voice echoed within the dark room as sunlight streamed through the curtains as he was backed into the wall. His heart raced in his chest as it clicked. He…he just admitted to loving his roommate. The very roommate he saved four months ago and offered to go on a fake date with. He hadn’t meant for it to be so raw, so unromantic that he himself had to groan at his own stupidity.

“…So you’re actually in love with me?” Ajax’s lips pursed shut, as he looked away, embarrassment settling in his bones, flooding every crevice of his body.

“Ajax?”

“Yes, Diluc, I’m in love with you, for fuck sake.” He groaned, his head thumping against the wall as he threw his head back. He was dizzy, his eyes wide as warm hands cupped his cheeks with a forceful kiss pressed to his lips — desperate. Everything in this moment was a blur to him, he just knew he tasted sweet, like sugar and pastries. He could feel the quiver of his lip and it felt right. It felt so, so right.

“C-call, call it off,” he groaned, melting into the kiss with every touch as his lithe fingers traced the veins in his neck, “Call off the meet up—,” he whispered thinly, pulling him impossibly closer as he kissed him feverishly, passion burning in each press of their lips. Diluc gasped as he was suffocated with every gentle kiss pressed to his skin. He pulled at the hairs of his neck, allowing himself to be dragged down to the bottom of the ocean. Lightly, he pushed him away to breathe, laughing lightly at their disheveled state as he cleaned them both up as best he could.

“Or, we could actually make it a date instead of a fake one,” he proposed, hands busying themselves with bronze curls.

“Yes. Fuck yes, I would absolutely love that,” he whispered as he went back to kissing him over and over, grateful for his stupid mouth talking too much.

“A date it is then,” Diluc mumbled against his lips as he allowed himself to be devoured by the other’s warm embrace, “A date it is…” Ajax sank into his touch, feeling his fingers hold him closely by his jaw as his lips met his over and over, his warmth scorching his skin, a fire that could never be extinguished…a fire that could never be extinguished.

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Text

PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #justice league

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lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 3

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tulipa kolpakowskiana ~ A tulip whose golden glow resembles the sunrise of a new day.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

Levi regained consciousness with a jolt, heart racing and tears bubbling behind his eyes.

Another nightmare.

I guess a good night’s sleep was too good to be true. He honestly didn’t remember how he dealt with his nightmares before you, and now you weren’t here to help. Levi had to resist his urge to leap up and crawl into bed next to you. Your well-being and your grandmother’s threat kept him in the guest room.

The sky was edging with light, signaling it was early in the morning. Levi knew from over 20 years of garbage sleeping habits that he would not fall back into slumber, nor did he want to. Instead, he opted for rising with the sparrows chitting just outside the peeling window. He lifted himself up from the sheets, and groaned as the tightness in his joints fought back. Releasing the tension from his body with several alarmingly loud cracks, he arose and turned down the hall towards your room. The light casted a muted glow over your bed, the sheets bathing in a cool yellow hue. Your form was still as motionless as it was yesterday; arms neatly folded at your sides, hair neatly brushed out of your face. You looked like you a model in a museum exhibit which sent Levi’s stomach churning. Your grandmother must have already attended to your wounds because as he sat down next to you he regarded the fresh bottle of alcohol and roll of bandaging. That would explain your clean look as well. A partially eaten jar of applesauce and used spoon were neatly placed on the nightstand. Levi let out a sigh of relief that you were able to keep some food down.

“Good morning.” He greeted in a hushed tone. Usually in the early hours of the morning, he would be conscious of how loud he was being as to not drag you out of sleep. But now all he wanted was for you to wake up, to respond to his voice. Your skin looked as fragile as glass, with too much pressure you would shatter into the satin. Warmth was rising to your cheeks, though, which was an improvement from yesterday.

He wasn’t sure if you could hear him but he continued to talk to you anyway, about the expedition, about his interactions with your grandmother, about the beautiful tulips. He could have remained by your bedside for an eternity until a rancid smell passed through his nostrils. Repulsed, he looked around the room for a clue to its origin until-

Oh shit, it's me.

The master bathroom was rather spacious with polished tiles and copper embellishments. The tub was enormous , so large that Levi felt like a child within it. Where had the old woman acquired all of this lavish furniture?

Treading over to the basin he twisted the golden knob and let the water run over his other hand, testing it until it was a soothing temperature. Leaving the tub to fill, he wandered around the bathroom. He turned in the mirror to regard the back of his shoulder. A sparse breath puffed from his lips. He had never actually bothered to look at his wound the night before. His skin was stained a deep purple that spanned most of his shoulder.

Disrobing fully, he carefully stepped into the tub, goosebumps prickling all over his body when the warmth kissed his skin. He sunk into the water, the steam visibly emanating from the pool. Levi let out a breathy sigh and his pupils lulled to the back of his eyes as he relished in the soothing hands of the water. He couldn’t hold back his moan as the water numbed his swollen skin and sent him into a temporary state of peace.

↞♞♘↠

“I feel so icky.” You whined, bouncing in an exaggerated manner. The way your limbs were flailing around made Levi snort. Expeditions were never fun and neither was coming home from one. The unwanted pinching along your ribs, the dull aching everywhere, and discolored plum pigmented spots that bloomed on your skin never failed to be your welcome home present.

It had become a tradition for you and Levi to sleep in his quarters after particularly taxing scouting excursions as he claimed his bath was more effective at getting the blood and soot out of every crevice of the body than yours. Honestly you didn’t doubt his reasoning with all the cleaning products he used on a daily basis.

“Me too.” Levi dittoed, exhaling with a groan as he removed his left boot. The leather leaving his foot made a satisfying pop. Lifting the shoe to his face, he examined the contents with a knit brow. He must have been unsatisfied with what he saw because his features contorted into a grimace and his tongue peeked out from behind his teeth in distaste.

You barely heard the softly spat fucking disgusting before he removed the other one and neatly set them in the corner by the door. Upon releasing his other foot from its confines, he then immediately retreated into the bathroom. As you began removing your own boots, the harsh sound of water running filled the otherwise quiet room. The moment you bent down to remove your shoe, the pinching in your side intensified.

“Fuck.” You hissed breathily, hand reaching awkwardly to massage the tender area.

“What is it?” Levi’s call was distorted by the flowing bathwater. He apparated into the doorway, nimble fingers halting at the fourth button on his shirt.

“Nothing, I just have a cramp.” You explained, attempting to wave his concern off with a small grin. Your foolery was cut short, however, when your body refused to bend further than your knees. You stretched half way down your legs before your body decided that was far enough, leaving you rocking back and forth like an inchworm as you grappled at the lacing on your boot.

Levi pursed his lips, inhaling his almost-chuckle, and left his post in the doorway to kneel before you. He gently rose each foot and slipped both your boots off, cringing when more foreign substances were discovered. Your eyes met in silent disgust, neither of you really wanting to investigate further. Once your socks were removed, Levi’s fingers danced over the sole of your foot mischievously. A crackled squeak left your lips and you lightly kicked him with what strength you had left. He didn’t attempt to cage his laughter this time and his hearty chuckle danced around the chamber.

“I can get my shirt.” You stated, a determined glint shining through the bags under your eyes.

“Oh?” Levi challenged with a hint of jest in his tone. With a raised brow he rose to his feet and disappeared back into the bathroom.

It was going well until you missed one button and that was all it took for you to become a tangled mess. It was like you were playing a game of twister by yourself. Levi barely heard the tiny help that was muffled by the haphazardly folded fabric wrapped around your limbs. You waited for a moment, staring at the inside of your shirt and your arm starting to get tingly from its awkward position at the back of your neck. Then a light tug cleared your vision and you were faced with Levi’s bare chest. He had successfully managed to remove the garment off your constricted torso without causing your side to act up.

“My hero.” You thanked in a sweet voice, more fatigued than you should have been from that ordeal. He responded with a kiss on your forehead before resigning towards the bathroom yet again.

“Do you want to go first?” You proposed, running your fingers through your mussed hair to check for any unidentifiable materials. Fortunately they came back empty handed.

“I thought we could go together.” He suggested, his belt coming undone with a metallic gingle. Once it was coiled and placed in his dirty hamper he turned towards you and waited expectantly.

��Lemme just put my clothes away and I’ll join you.” You said, undoing the buckles of the straps that snaked around your thighs.

“You need help with your pants?” Levi offered casually as he began to fiddle with the zipper of his own.

“Trying to get into them, Mr. Ackerman?” You retorted with the quip of an eyebrow.

“Only if it gets you into the bath faster.” Levi returned your accusation, his eyes shining with amusement. The lazy familiarity in his gaze beckoned you to remove the rest of your uniform with haste.

Now clad in only your underwear, you shuffled into the lavatory a few minutes later. Walking into the room felt like entering the inside of a soothing flame. The candles Levi had lit casted the room in a warm and silky blanket of light and their comforting atmosphere almost made you melt into a pool of candle wax the instant you entered the space.

The luxury of his bathroom was a stark reminder of your days as a cadet and you constantly thanked the heavens that you no longer needed to take community showers. The time you had accidentally walked into the boy’s shower room left a deep scar that had the situation playing forever on a loop.

Your companion had himself already submerged under the frothing water. The airy bubbles outlined his reclined form and clung to his pale skin as if they were afraid he would part from their lavish cradle. The smell emanating from the bath was of lavender, a scent you recognized as Levi’s birthday gift from Erwin. He was too crass to admit it, but the amount of times he used the bath salts and the way his body practically became one with the foam betrayed his indifferent fasad.

He had not yet registered your presence, the enticing embrace lulling Levi’s eyes shut and parting his rosy lips. Your heart could not contain itself and began fluttering against every surface of your body. He lolled his head back to look at you when your steps hit the tile with a little too much force. His lips upturned and eyes slowly opened into a blissful expression.

Reaching back to unclasp your bra, your gaze momentarily fell to the side of the tub. Just as you began to slide the straps down your shoulders, a slight sloshing of water from the tub halted your movements. Levi was regarding you boyishly, an enamored smile gracing his porcelain features. The pure domesticity of the situation caused a garden of warmth to cultivate in your heart, spreading through your bloodstream and pooling at your cheeks. Your faltering caused a velvety chuckle to rumble through his chest.

“What? I can’t watch you?” He purred, blinking slowly and smiling contently. To him, you were the most exquisite thing in such a grimy world. Even if you were grimy, too, at the moment.

“I- uh, no it's okay.” You flushed and continued to undress. The garment fell to the floor with a soft clatter. You eyed him once more as your fingers brushed the silky hem of your underwear.

His smile only deepened, and his eyes refracted the candle light and the way the flame danced within them mimicked a sunset along a silvery sky. He had stopped hiding his smiles from you long ago.

“You know I can’t count the amount of times I’ve seen you naked before.”

You breathed out a laugh, too exhausted, too flustered, and too eager to relax to come up with a snarky comeback. You planted yourself at the side of the tub and made a moving gesture with your hand.

“Scoot up.” You instructed. Levi blinked a couple times before obeying, the bubbles relentlessly sticking to his skin as he glided up the tub. You slipped in behind him, immediately feeling the bruises and scratches of the battle being subdued by the heated water. Guiding his shoulders back so his body was pressed against your chest, he practically melted into your embrace at the feeling of your plush skin.

Delicate hands glazed over his torso, spreading the bubbles up his chest with the tranquil pitter-patter of water. A shiver followed in their wake, chasing the feeling of your touch when your hands left him to lather themselves in shampoo.

“How are you feeling?” You asked sweetly, working your foamy palms through his obsidian locks.

“Nothing hurts more than usual.” He sighed, muscles involuntarily flexing under your minstraitions.

“That’s not what I meant.”

His response was not surprising to you. You had grown accustomed to the delay in response in regard to emotional questions. While Levi often confided in you, he still had his affliction with expressing is inner turmoils. Yet, the closer the two of you grew and the more time you spend together, the shorter that intermittent silence became. Your teeth worried at the inside of your cheek in anticipation as you massaged the clipped hair at the base of his head.

“Nothing hurts more than usual.” Levi repeated but this time with a gentler tone. It signaled not to press further but allowed you to sense meaning behind his words. You nodded in understanding. Seasoned soldiers became numb to the bloodshed of war to a certain degree but any weathered scar still holds the potential to bleed.

“How are you feeling?” Levi asked and gingerly traced patterns along your thigh.

“This expedition seems like child’s play compared to the one in a few weeks.” You said with a tinge of worry lased in your statement. Levi hummed in agreement and craned his neck to give you better access to the area of hair next to his ear. The two of you had avoided talking about it too in depth as you knew what dwelling on heavy tasks during the time of a current expedition would place you both in a bad mental state.

“It will be risky, but Erwin knows what he’s doing. He-” Levi was unable to complete his train of thought when you tugged just right on a section of his hair. He let out a husky moan that mingled with the steamy flush of the tub and what heat resided within your face was now pooled between your legs.

His body went rigid in embarrassment and you immediately halted your massaging. His sensuous reaction surprised both of you but it was endearing that even after all this time, the two of you could still be so bashful in front of each other. You could never get enough of his vulnerability, a side he reserved deeply for you.

“Felt good?” You giggled, smoothing your palms over his shoulders. The plush press of your breasts against his back drew a shaky breath from deep within him. In one fluid moment, Levi sank under the water and reemerged facing you. The sight before you sent an electric stream volting through your nerves. The dark expanse of his wet tresses framed the ravishing galaxy that swirled vividly within his eyes. His canines toyed with his lower lip, determined to get even with you for laughing.

“Not as good as how you are about to feel.” His voice was so low it seemed to vibrate the whole tub and sent a shockwave of pleasurable currents across your skin. He licked his lips languidly, carefully grabbing your thighs and adjusting your legs so they rested atop of his. Now it was his hands that smoothed down the heated skin of your arms, stomach, thighs, the cusp of your breasts, and gliding along your shoulders. He placed tender open mouthed kisses against the shell of your neck, collarbone, and then again to the swell of your breasts. The touch left your skin burning with desire and with every exhale the steam thickly materialized above you. Your body curled into his, the need for friction becoming unbearable. It was Levi who now chuckled in delight when his fingers found your core. The moan he drew from you made him light-headed and left his consciousness as fuzzy as the humidity of the bathroom.

Just as Levi began intensifying his strokes, his movements began to grow lazy. You started feeling sluggish as well, the sultriness of the room lulling you into a sleepy daze. As the immense exhaustion from the expedition caught up with your bodies, the two of you let the water earnestly lap at your slumped forms. For how long, you did not know. Levi’s eyelids drooped and you became aware of the dark lilac bags residing under them. Your sore side too decided it wanted in on the fun and started singeing the right half of your body. You were about to tap Levi to get him to move when his head suddenly dipped, the sweet release of sleep getting the better of him. His head only touched your shoulder for a second before it snapped upward. The disoriented expression he wore caused you to bark with laughter.

“I’m trying to be sexy.” He pouted, the cosmic hue of his eyes fading to a dull gray. He squeezed your thighs playfully.

“If we don’t get out of this tub soon we are both going to fall asleep and drown.” You squeaked, hitting his shoulder lightly and moving off of him to step out of the tub. He gently held you in place.

“I need to wash your hair first. Turn around.” He said tiredly. You could barely distinguish his request through his lofty yawn.

“Okay, but don’t take too long or we’ll get all pruney.” You remarked after popping a stray bubble caught on his cheek.

“SIR! REPORTING FOR MORNING CLEANING DUTY.” The shrill voice cracked with the breath of a fresh morning. Whoever was yelling really had pipes.

“Shut the hell up, Jaeger. She’s still sleeping.” Levi’s annoyed chiding was much harder to hear from the otherside of the closed bedroom door. Shuffling and muffled fumbling for what you expected was the sanitation equipment followed the commotion.

“How are you so energetic at the ass crack of dawn?” Levi tsked and playfully hit the cadet atop the head with a folder just as the boy picked up his duster.

↞♞♘↠

Levi’s head had begun to ache with a dull blurriness after spending a sizeable amount of time in the bath. His temple cooed under the pressured glides of his pruney fingers before resigning to get up, lest becoming the embodiment of a raisin. He heaved himself out of the heavenly pool, dizziness immediately enveloping him when his feet touched the bathmat.

Upon returning to his room he found a freshly folded pile of clothes awaiting him on the leather lounge chair. The garments were a little too posh for his liking but anything was better than the tattered remnants of his uniform. The finished look made Levi huff in mild surprise. The scarlet dress shirt fit snugly on his shoulders and highlighted the curvature of his biceps. He got rid of the excess billowing of the torso by tucking it snuggly into his slacks. The pants were expertly tailored, an indication they originated from a higher class, and complemented every outline and muscle of Levi’s lower half.

Except for length.

Muttering to himself about the inconvenience in the height difference between the previous owner of these clothes and himself, he began thinking of ways to alter the outfit so he didn’t look like a child or walls forbid a hobbit.

After rolling each pant leg up neatly just past his ankles with slight irritation, he perched the suspenders utop of his shoulders and padded over to the mirror. Clearly whoever these clothes belonged to was much taller than he. But he didn’t hate it. In fact, he sort of liked how he looked. He twisted his body this way and that to garner as close as he could get to a 360 degree view. He gave himself an approving nod and grabbed a piece of stationary and a pen before exiting the room. He made his way downstairs but not without peeking into your room once more.

The house had a much different aura than the night before. The sunlight extended its pale tendrils through the polished glass and beckoned Levi to sit at the small table in the corner next to dutch door window. He placed the stationary on the carved wood and gasped when his back suddenly cracked. It was then he realized just how sore and exhausted he still was even after the bath.

He needed caffeine badly. Your coffee addiction was, unwantedly at first, rubbing off on him. Before the two of you were close he had no interest in dirt water as he called it. However, you slowly opened him up to a new world where long nights were made substantially easier and when his tea just didn’t cut it. Levi had been conditioned to like the strong way you made it, but it was indeed an acquired taste.

Thumbs absentmindedly played with the fabric of the suspenders as he scanned the spacious room for a french press. Now that yesterday’s adrenalin had been cleansed from his head, he could see the room clearly. The room was filled with life, literally. Plants were everywhere; potted and leaves overflowing from their confines. The wood was more polished and artistic than his glazed eyes had seen the night before. The decor emitted wealth and pretentiousness yet it gave him the opposite feeling. He felt like he was at home, and he didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

Locating the french press next to one said plant, Levi brewed his drink under the warm morning embrace and the lithe song of songbirds. Once he obtained his cup of coffee, he resigned back to the table and wrote his letter between sips and gazes out onto the yard.

Erwin,

As I’m sure you are aware, Y/N and myself were separated from the left flank during the expedition. We’re okay. We are staying on the outskirts of Krolva.

Y/N has sustained heavy but not lethal injuries.

I’m fine.

Don’t worry your eyebrows off.

Levi

“How long have you been awake?” A familiar gruff voice hollered from the hall. Levi had just finished sliding the letter into the envelope when your grandmother appeared in the doorway.

“A couple hours.” He said with characteristic plainness.

“You look a lot better than yesterday. Cleaner too.” She commented and returned to the hall to discard her lightweight coat.

“I took a bath.” His thumb eagerly pushed against a paint chip in the elegant coffee mug.

“Well good for you, I’d figured you would know how to properly bathe.” She chided with a jestfull tone. From his seat next to the window, Levi could see the woman shuffling around the shoe rack. He gave her appearance a once over; mud encrusted baby blue paddock boots, an apron with a floral design embroidered into the front pocket and gardening gloves just as dirty as her boots. When her outdoor clothing had been discarded by the front door she padded back into the sunlit kitchen. His eyes were still fixated on the dry dirt that littered her apron, work pants, and shirt. His nose wrinkled automatically.

“I was gathering tulips.” She responded to Levi’s silent inquiry. He simply nodded and when she turned towards him a satisfied smile chuffed her cheeks. Her hands were perched attentively on her hips.

“Well don’t those clothes look nice on you. I was afraid they would be a little loose fitting.” She clicked her tongue approvingly. Levi idly attempted to hide the extremely rolled up pants by crossing his legs at his ankles.

“Those were my son’s clothes. I know he had a couple inches shy of a good foot over you but they suit you. You both had a similar style.”

Levi stiffened when your grandmother revealed who’s garments he adorned. It didn’t bother him, per say, but it did feel a bit strange wearing something that belonged to your father. Curiously intimate. Like this whole experience, Levi reckoned.

“Yeah, they fit alright. Thank you.” His curt response made your grandmother purse her lips. She was determined to get him to open up to her.

“Oh! You made coffee how delightful.” She said giddily as she made a beeline for it. When she had poured the amber liquid into delicate china she took one sip, smacked her lips in a sophisticated manner, and gagged.

“You make it just like her, strong as shit.” Your grandmother muttered sounds of disgust that hid Levi’s breath of amusement. She hastily retrieved the sugar and milk from the pantry and remedied the deathly drink to her liking.

“While I was out there I fed the horses-” She added after a satisfying sip of her coffee.

“And your corps horse is a huge pain in my knickers. You know, in all my years serving in the military I’ve never met such a spoiled creature before.” She ranted as she sauntered over to the tiny corner table. She sat down opposite of Levi, taking her apron off and waving it out to get some dust off. Levi dodged it the dislodged particles.

“The bugger went to bite me whenever I tried to look at his wounds and even feed him. I don’t know how he passed his horsey exams because he’s so disobedient.” She scoffed and took a particularly violent swig of her drink.

“I’ll go check on him later.” He said, furrowing his brows when his cup no longer contained his energy source.

“Humor me. Why don’t you just get rid of the thing? It’s too ornery.” She proposed slyly, the aged wood of the chair creaked as she leaned back against it. Levi noted her posture, she may act prickly but she walks with the grace of someone raised inside the innermost wall.

Levi harbored the same sentiment about the horse. It still blew his mind how Zacharias even chose him in the annual foaling. If he had the choice, Levi would have been born with the ability to wiggle his fingers and magically make bratty horses disappear far away to a distant farm where they would never be heard from again. Scratch that. Anything or anybody that was a brat. What a heaven that would be, half the cadets turning into stardust. Levi’s eyes were glazing over as he became lost in his fantasy but your grandmother’s harsh cough reigned him back in.

“It’s Y/N’s horse.” Levi stated simply. Her mouth formed an O shape and she nodded in understanding. As much as he thought it was a pain in his ass, he loved the smile that creature brought to your face.

“Well, that will do it, huh.” She affirmed pushing off the table and abruptly taking his empty cup.

“How’s the shoulder?” She questioned as she poured a fresh batch of coffee into the reservoir.

“Still aching, but better.” He replied, rolling it around a little to show her. She nodded silently and drew closer, placing the drink gently in front of him. He returned her gesture with a small smile.

“Do you think you have enough energy to help me with my shipment?” She suddenly inquired, hand resting on the table.

Levi stopped mid sip and looked at her with a quizzical expression. Shipment?

“I have to ship out some tulips today, some dusty politician has a banquet tomorrow.” She said dismissively.

“What about Y/N?” Levi said this as more of a statement than a question. Surely one person had to be around in case something came up. What if she awoke an no one was there to assist her? Even worse scenarios swam through his mind.

“I have a so called housekeeper .” Your grandmother rolled her eyes. Damn your family really was more well off than you had led on.

“I insist that she stops coming but that lass is hellbent on helping me with this estate. If you can even call it that. ” Your grandmother mumbled the last bit. “She comes by everyday around 11 am whether I like it or not. So we will leave once she arrives.”

Levi’s brow knitted with worry. Would a housekeeper be able to care for you as your grandmother did if your body suddenly rejected the applesauce? If a stitch came undone and the river of blood became unclogged-

“Son, don’t worry. The girl has known Y/N all of her life. She’s an apprentice at the apothecary in our village, I couldn’t think of more capable hands besides our own to leave her in.” Your grandmother comforted his silent spiral into anxiety. It was curious how she was able to continue to hone in on what he was feeling.

Levi contemplated her statement for a moment, finger idly running along the rim of the china.

“Sure.” He agreed. Even though the idea of parting with you in this condition made his nerves flare up, you trusted your grandmother with all your heart so that meant Levi should too.

“Splendid, I will begin the preparations.” She cheered, clasping her hands together and pushing off the table.

A warm bowl of oatmeal and another cup of coffee later, Levi found his arms shaking slightly under the wooden crate. Who knew flowers could be so heavy. Of course his body wouldn’t have recovered within a day but he had never felt so exhausted in his life.

“Is there a post office where we are going?” Levi asked asked between heaving breaths as he loaded another crate into the back of the carriage. Your grandmother rounded the vehicle and dropped her gaze to the paper sticking out from his pants pocket.

“Mhmm, we’re going to drop them off in town. It's about a quarter short of an hour's drive from here. From there, a royal attendant will pick up my goods and we can be on our way.” She explained. Before turning, she pointed to the parchment.

“Is it a love letter to the Commander?” She smirked. Levi rolled his eyes and went to grab another crate. With every box he placed onto the polished surface, a waft of fresh scent would pass through his nose. He's never smelled anything quite so aromatic and pleasing before.

“That should be enough. This is one of my smaller orders.” The little woman stated with satisfaction. She turned with the poise of an ex-soldier and moved to sit on the porch steps. Levi mimicked her movements and settled himself onto the heated wood.

"And now we wait for that troublesome girl."

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #drabble #AoT #aot imagine #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #snk x reader #snk #imagine #shingeki no kyojin #hange zoe #jean kirschstein #bisexual jean

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star-killer-md · 4 years

Text

Goldilocks

— for Cowboy

A/N: This was inspired by an ask about bathing with the AD boys from @cowboy-kylo like forever ago. It’s also like got a fair amount of fluff just to prove to you all I am capable of writing non-painful things. I hope you enjoy some lovely soft Clyde dear! 💖

Pairing: Clyde x Reader

Warnings: none really, fluff and smut, a bathtub is involved, handjobs, this is in a word tooth rotting so beware

Word Count: 2k

You never thought too much about how small your apartment was. For so long, it had just been you on your own, so the minuscule space between the island and the stove, the low ceilings and narrow hallways hadn’t been a bother.

But Clyde made it feel like a tin can left in the freezer overnight and ready to burst, dying to expand.

To be fair, Clyde Logan made everything seem small with his hand like a boxing glove—minus all the hard fists and swung punches—and his shoulders hunching in every doorway as if the world was never able to fully accommodate him. You thought maybe that was why he smiled the way he did, sort of apologetic even at the happiest of moments, like he was sorry for never quite fitting anywhere.

Clyde made you feel small too though you were always afraid to tell him that. Knew he’d take it the wrong way and smile that sad, sorry smile and try to fade off into the corners of your bedroom, try not to ‘crowd ya’ as he’d say. So you never said it, but you thought about it often.

Clyde Logan made you feel small in the most beautiful of ways.

Not like most people did when they spoke over you or made stupid backhanded comments that you were meant to laugh at so as not to seem rude or when they stared right through you that way people do when they don’t give two shits what you’re saying and don’t care enough to pretend.

No, Clyde Logan made you small in a way you’ve never been.

He made you feel comfortable everywhere.

Sometimes, when you’d go to visit him at the bar, he’d place his hand on the small of your back, let it run feather light around your hip and rest there in the curve of the bone. And suddenly, you didn’t feel so out of place, like you were taking up too much space that wasn't meant for you. Once, you were helping him clean up after a long shift and knocked a whole tray of glasses straight off the bar top, sent the shattered bits skittering all across the floor, but there was no burn of embarrassment. Just, “it’s no problem, darlin’,” and a soft press of his lips to your head.

Sometimes it was overwhelming, the sense Clyde gave you, finally in your proper place.

And in his arms, when he wasn’t too nervous to hold you in ‘em—too afraid he might crush ya—you felt small and perfect and not at risk of breaking anything precious.

It pervaded every inch of you, and occasionally you felt just how small the apartment really is. Now that you were used to the puzzle piece fit of Clyde Logan, the cold tile floors and microcosmic rooms felt cramped in a way they never did before.

You told him a while back you’d start looking for a new place, somewhere you both can fit.

But for now, you were still in the little shoebox you’ve called home for so long and you could hear the key turning in the front door’s lock, big, heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Clyde stopped by most nights after work these days, slept in your bed most nights too. Pounded you into the mattress and made you cry for him or let you ride his cock, thighs burning to take him deeper and watch how his pretty eyes roll back when he cums.

And as delicious as it sounded, as much as it sent sparks off between your thighs, you had something softer planned for him. Something lovely for this man who came the closest to the human personification of southern sweet tea you’d ever known. Refreshing like the little sprigs of cut mint he kept in mason jars to chew on sometimes, cool like the feel of his prosthetic on your bare skin, soothing like his fingers scratching gently at your scalp and the way the hair on his chin grates your shoulder when he rubs against you in his sleep.

“Darlin’?” his voice echoed down the hall.

“In here!”

You had the bathtub all filled up with near scalding water and fragrant bubbles floating like clouds along the top. The room was hazy with steam that settled in little droplets on your skin. The top of your breasts peeked out from the water and Clyde’s eyes fell immediately to the shape of you under the surface.

He had just his head poking through the crack in the door and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your cheeks whenever he got shy like this. Like he hadn’t seen you bare a thousand times before.

“Oh, uh, m’sorry didn’t mean ta—”

You cut off his stammering, “Feel like joining me?”

“I don’t know if I’ll fit, sweetheart,” he said, already tugging off his t-shirt and sitting on the edge of the tub.

He always called you so many little pet names. Normally you’d hate that, but it melts you a bit when they come from his mouth.

“You’ll fit,” you said, drifting over to help him take off his prosthetic and lay it gently on the vanity. “You always fit.”

And he did, because it’s you and him so there’s never a place the two of you don’t.

His jeans and socks and underwear—that you bought him because you swore they made his ass look so good in those bootcut jeans he wore—lay in a little pile by your sink and Clyde’s chest is finally warm and solid against your back.

Just where he’s meant to be.

His legs were bent up around you, knees poking out of the water, and you brought one of his massive calves to rest between yours, kneading gently at the taut muscles.

“You don’t have ta do that, darlin’,” Clyde said, and groaned when you unwound a particularly tight knot.

“Shh,” you hushed, “tell me about work.”

He hummed as you reached for the soap, lathering your hands up and working it all down his legs.

“It weren’t too excitin’, I did have ta kick out one fella—real piece a work too.”

Clyde went on and you listened, almost drowning in the way the words left his mouth and shifting around to sit chest to chest in his lap so you could work on his shoulders. His cock was half hard and twitched against you, but he lay still, hand loosely on your hip and head tilted back while he talked.

You loved the feeling of the warm, smooth planes of his skin under your hands and raked your nails across his chest, pausing to thumb at his nipples and chuckling at the catch in his voice.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say your tryin’ ta distract me darlin’,” Clyde mumbled, sitting up so you were pressed tight against him and laying his head in the crook of your neck.

“I would never, just trying to help you unwind.”

You pulled him up by the hair to finally fit your lips to his, loving the glide of him, the scratch of his beard. Clyde’s arms sloshed the water over the sides as they wound up and around your middle. You hummed when he didn’t hesitate to touch you with both. Sometimes he got a little wary about touchin you without his prosthetic, but it seemed you’d done your job well. He felt loose, all the tension released as he fell perfectly into you.

Puzzle pieces, just the right size.

Edges and curves finding their way into place like how the sea meets the shore: inevitably.

You felt the sharp expanse of his ribs when your hand brushed his achingly hard length under the water. He was nothing if not proportional, your Clyde, wide and long in every aspect of himself, so that your hand barely wrapped all the way around him.

He moaned in earnest now, resting his forehead to yours, “Darlin’, you don’t gotta do that.”

You hushed him, moving your wrist in long, languid strokes. Listened to the breathy little noises he made and needed every one of them.

“There’s nothing in the world I want to do more,” you said, twisting your hand just how you knew he liked it and earning yourself another gasp. “Let me make you feel good, Clyde.”

He nodded breathlessly, tilting his head back so you could suck and nip little marks all over his collar.

The first time the two of you had ever got a little hot and heavy, you’d accidentally left behind more than a little evidence—which you're sure Clyde got more than a tad of flack for from the guys at the bar—but you knew he loved it. Loved looking at them, loved remembering how they got there and loved the reminder of where and to whom he belonged.

“Ya always make me feel good—” he trailed off when you bit just over his pulse, licking a hot stripe up his neck.

Clyde bucked his hips up as the pace of your hand on his cock increased, and he mumbled a nearly incoherent apology when more water spilled out onto the bathroom floor.

But the mess didn’t matter when his head fell back, resting in your hands and giving you a lovely view of his freckled chest, pink with the steam and all the pleasure you were pulling from him. You wanted to kiss every mole, connect them all like constellations in the clear West Virginia night sky.

“Oh honey, you’re so pretty,” you hummed, taking in the scene before you.

Clyde choked back a sob, pulling his pretty plush lips between crooked teeth. You felt his cock twitch in your hand and knew he was getting close. Couldn’t wait to see his face screw up with the shock of it, couldn’t wait for his arms to lock you in like he was afraid you’d stop and leave him cold.

“Sweetheart, m’ not gonna last much longer,” he groaned and dropped his hand from your hip between your legs, thumb rubbing perfect circles around your clit. “Let me help ya.”

You grabbed at his wrist, “Clyde, you don’t have to—”

He knocked your hand away and surged forward, bending down to wrap his gorgeous lips around one of your nipples, laving his tongue over the stiff peak and pulling back with a wet pop.

“Let me make ya feel good,” he said, throwing the words back at you.

The smug little grin on his face alone nearly sent you over the edge.

How could you ever deny him that?

So you let him continue, loving the feel of his rough, calloused fingers touching you in all the right places, with just the right rhythm and stroked his leaking cock to match. His eyes stayed on your face the whole time, never glancing away, never shy or embarrassed.

You couldn’t have looked away if you’d wanted to.

This is where you belonged, you thought. This is where you fit. Not too big or too much, but goldilocks perfect under his gaze.

And then his face was scrunching up—just like you knew it would—and showered him with praise as he painted your stomach with white ropes of hot release, fingers never letting up their frantic circles until you were throwing your head back and gasping with the white sting of your climax.

After a few moments, you released his softening length and collapsed into his solid chest, reveling in the way he locked you in his embrace.

Later, you’d make the two of you a warm drink, and let him rest his head on your breasts while you stroked his hair and listened to his breathing even out. Later you’d fuck him properly in your bed where his feet always hung off the edge, ride him so he could sit back and rest his hand on your hip and watch you take all of him, despite the size.

Because Clyde and you just fit together like that, without question, as natural as anything.

Just right.

#clyde logan x reader #clyde logan smut #reader insert #this is my first clyde fic #fluff and smut #clyde logan fluff #for cowboy #cowboy-kylo

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

Text

I + Can’t + Lose + You (5)

masterlist. AO3.

It’s still Sunday in my time zone, so HA! I kept my promise! Anyway, this is the last chapter, so thank you all for joining me on this crazy ride. Heads up, the end is ~spicy~ but not like, explicitly filthy (it’s teenager appropriate). Enjoy!

*****

Riley pulled into Mac’s driveway a few minutes shy of 2:00 am. Her lower back ached, her right leg cramped, and her eyes were bloodshot, but they were finally home. Thank god. Riley didn’t want to drive again for a week. She told Mac as much, earning a chuckle.

Nearly every joint in her body popped as Riley crawled out of the driver’s seat and stretched, an undignified groan escaping her lips. As if her body was on autopilot, she drifted inside after Mac.

The house was unbearably hot and stuffy. Dropping her bag by the door, Riley opened her mouth to suggest they divide and conquer opening the bazillion windows in this goddamn house when Mac yanked the fridge open and asked, “Beer?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.” He cracked one open and held it out to her. Sighing, Riley accepted, and Mac opened another for himself.

Riley took one sip before her bladder felt like it was about to explode. “Oh my god I have to pee so bad,” she announced, scurrying from the room.

*****

Mac couldn’t help but laugh. He’d offered Riley a beer to stall her from immediately going to bed and to buy himself time to figure out how to tell her he loved her, and now he was going to say “I love you” in the same five minutes as her frantically yelling “I have to pee.”

Of course.

But it was the incredulous look on her face when she returned and realized he’d been laughing at her that sent him over the edge, unable to catch his breath as he doubled over in laughter. Riley’s pouting didn’t last long, however, and soon she was hiding her smile between sips of beer, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. Mac couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was in that moment, eyes glimmering with amusement despite the exhaustion making her movements sluggish and her shoulders cave inward. Even on her worst days, or under the worst circumstances, Riley exuded warmth, filling up the empty spaces in Mac’s heart like a fire lighting up a hearth.

She was it for him—his adventure buddy, his drinking buddy, his “look up at the stars and talk about life” buddy, and his best friend all in one. The eye of his stormy life. Every look and every touch felt like safety, like home, and every time she said his name it sounded like the rest of his life. Riley knew every terrible thing he’d ever done and still trusted him anyway, and if that wasn’t love then Mac had no idea what was.

He just needed to go for it. Take the leap and tell her how he felt. Mac was done wasting his time being afraid of crashing and burning and ruining what he already had.

For Riley, he’d risk it all.

*****

Riley knew what Mac was gearing up to do when he invited her outside, and for the first time ever, she was ready for it. She leaned on the balcony railing beside him, their shoulders just brushing, and stared out at the city lights gleaming beneath the constant haze that filled the LA basin. Her knuckles accidentally grazed the back of his hand, sending sparks jittering across her skin. Mac mirrored the motion, and her breath hitched. Casually, Riley switched her beer to her other hand, leaving the one closest to Mac free so he could hold it. If he wanted to hold it.

Even though he’d practically spelled his feelings out already, Riley couldn’t shake the doubt still lingering in her mind. What if he didn’t mean it? What if Mac decided he’d rather just be friends? What if, after an eternity of pining over each other, the spark between them fizzled out like a used-up match? That last scenario would break her heart more than anything else—that no matter how much they both wanted it, they wouldn’t be able to make it work, and they’d implode the same way his relationship with Desi did.

The thought made her sick. Closing her eyes, Riley imagined crumpling the thought like a piece of paper and throwing it as far away as she could. A big gulp of beer drowned the rest of her doubts. For now.

When she opened her eyes again, Mac was studying her, no doubt trying to determine what caused the sudden change in her body language. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” She brushed her fingers against his, intentionally this time, and he didn’t prod any further. Instead, Mac tentatively laced his fingers with hers, like they were teenagers holding hands for the very first time and not grown-ass adults who’d held hands—with each other, no less—countless times. Just as they always did, Mac’s fingers locked perfectly with hers like it was their primary function.

The cool ocean breeze did nothing to ease the burning Riley felt every place her skin touched Mac’s. Did he feel it too? Did he ache the way she ached to wrap herself in him and never let go? Mac squeezed her hand, and for a brief moment Riley pretended he’d read her mind and answered, Yes.

He squeezed again, and Riley lifted her gaze to meet his. “I’m in love with you,” he whispered, searching her eyes. He looked tired and terrified and a little...hopeful. Like that hope was the lighthouse guiding him home with each word that tumbled out of his mouth. “I need you, Riles. I need you in my life so badly I can’t risk losing you because I waited too long to tell you that I’m in love with you.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’m selfish and self-destructive and get lost in my own head, and I can’t guarantee that I’ll never hurt you. But I would break every bone in my body and give my life over and over again to protect you, and that’s a promise. You’re my best friend. I trust you more than anyone else in the whole world, and you make me feel like any problem can be solved as long as we do it together. I’ve spent forever agonizing over when was the right time to tell you, and earlier today I realized I was just wasting time I could’ve spent building something permanent with you.” Mac’s voice broke. “Because I love you.”

It was everything Riley ever wanted to hear. And so much more.

“And if you don’t feel the same way, I get it. I’ll never bring it up—” Riley held a finger to his lips, cutting him off before he gave himself a panic attack.

“Mac, it’ll always be you. Don’t you get that? If I could have anything I’ve ever wanted in my life, I’d always choose you. Every single time. Because, at the end of the day, you’re the person I want to come home to. You’re the person I want to share my life with. No one else, okay? You can try to push me away and keep on carrying the weight of the world by yourself, but I won’t let you, because starting today we are a team, and on this team no one has to face stuff alone.”

Riley waited, and when Mac just stared at her instead of saying something back, she realized she’d forgotten the most important part.

“Because I love you too.” She lifted their joined hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “And nothing will ever change that.”

Her heart beat so loudly Riley was sure Mac could hear it.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Yes, but before you do that, I have one question.”

Mac’s eyes pleaded, Make it quick.

She teased, “You said you trusted me more than anyone else on earth, but what about the astronauts on the space station?” Mac looked like he wanted to throttle her. “Does that mean you trust them more than me?”

He sighed, and a faint smile curled his lips. “Never. Now please shut up and let me kiss you.” Tilting her chin up, Mac cupped Riley’s cheek and lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was slow and deep and entirely too short considering what they’d just confessed. Riley’s lips chased Mac’s when he pulled away, but he simply kissed the bridge of her nose before resting his forehead on hers. “I know this is the part where we’re supposed to go have the best sex of our lives,” he said, “but I really just want to go to bed.”

Riley laughed. “Thank god. I’m about to pass out.” Still holding hands, they walked inside, sneaking glances and grinning like idiots drunk on happiness.

“You’re sleeping in my bed,” he announced. “The guest bed is covered in laundry that I’ve been avoiding folding for a week.” Mac frowned, like he regretted the words that just came out of his mouth. “Or, well, you can sleep on the couch if you want, but, um, I’d like it if you slept with me. But again it’s up to you.”

Warmth bloomed in Riley’s chest. Ever since he’d jumped her while they were infiltrating that party in Monte Carlo, Mac meticulously asked for her consent. For everything, no matter how mundane. She knew he still felt guilty for throwing himself at her like that, but Riley wasn’t in any hurry to reassure him when his atoning behavior made her feel so safe and was, honestly, hot as fuck.

“I plan on sleeping with you every night for the rest of my life, MacGyver.”

He tensed, and Riley panicked that she’d gone too far with the rest of my life bit. But then he pushed her against the doorframe and kissed her soundly, caressing her sides, and she relaxed. He rasped, “I’d like that very much.”

They stumbled into the bedroom, stealing kisses and sneaky glances while getting ready for bed. Mac tossed her a soft, gray t-shirt to sleep in. Not trusting herself, Riley turned her back to Mac as she shimmied out of her clothes and donned his shirt, ignoring the searing feeling of Mac’s gaze on her backside. She trudged to the guest bathroom to remove her makeup and brush her teeth with the toiletries she kept there for nights just like this—when she crashed at Mac’s, too tired to go home.

Mac was already in bed when Riley returned, having claimed the side closer to the door. She wondered if he did that intentionally, or if his protective instinct was just that: instinct.

The full weight of her exhaustion hit her as Riley sank into the memory foam mattress. She knew the second Mac turned off the light she’d pass out, so she forced her body to scoot to the middle of the bed in a half-assed attempt to cuddle. “Goodnight, Mac.”

He turned the lamp off. “Goodnight, Riles.” Riley was vaguely aware of arms circling her body and a leg slipping between hers as she slipped out of consciousness. Eyes closed and tucked safely into Mac’s embrace, Riley drifted into the black abyss and forgot the world.

*****

When Mac woke up this morning, he never would’ve guessed he’d fall asleep with Riley snuggled into his chest. Never would’ve guessed they’d look each other in the eyes and say, “I love you.” Never would’ve guessed he’d wake up the next morning to the promise of banging his best friend’s brains out.

It was surreal—enough so that Mac feared one blink would make it all go away. But the beckoning hand of sleep proved too strong, and Mac had no choice but to let himself be pulled under.

*****

The gentle press of Mac’s lips against hers brought Riley into the awakened world the following morning. She’d rolled onto her back during the night, and now Mac hovered over her—forearms braced by her shoulders, chest grazing hers. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles to her arms beneath the sleeves of her t-shirt. Riley groaned, not ready to be awake yet.

Mac peppered her face with kisses. “Good morning,” he murmured. Riley would’ve melted under his attention if she weren’t so intent on going back to sleep.

“If that clock doesn’t at least read 7:00 a.m., I am going to kill you,” she mumbled, half asleep. Mac chuckled darkly, and Riley knew she wasn’t going to get her way.

“7:05,” he said against her lips before kissing her again. Riley cursed him and his inability to sleep in. She groaned in complaint, but the sound morphed into something else when one of Mac’s hands slid under her shirt, feeling the smooth plane of her stomach. He paused when his fingertips brushed the bullet wound scar on her left side, before resuming exploring. Riley’s eyes popped open when he finally pulled away, lying on his side.

Riley rolled to face him directly. “Did that really happen last night?”

“Only if you wanted it to.” Mac offered her a sad smile. If she changed her mind, Riley knew he would respect her choice and figure out how to go back to being just friends. Even now, Mac was giving her an out, if she wanted it.

The only thing Riley wanted out of was her clothes. And Mac out of his.

“I love you,” she said, clear and bright as the morning sunlight peeking through the curtains. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, whether it’s a pack of monkeys chasing us with grenades or nightmare parent-teacher conferences, but I do know that no matter how crazy or difficult life gets, there’s no one I’d rather do life with than you.”

She could’ve sworn Mac’s eyes were watering. “Come here,” he said, low and demanding. The sound went straight between her legs. Determined to hide how nervous she really was, Riley complied, pushing Mac onto his back and straddling his hips. Mac eyed the way her shirt bunched around her hips, leaving every inch of her legs exposed. He’d gotten better at hiding it over the years, but Riley long lost track of how many times she’d caught him checking out her legs when he thought no one was looking.

Something in her back pinched as she leaned down to kiss him, and Riley winced, moving a hand to brace her lower back.

“What’s wrong?” Mac asked. “Do we need to stop?”

Riley shook her head. “No. I want this. My back just hurts after twelve hours of sitting in a car, so I need you to be gentle.”

“Okay.” Mac sat up to kiss her, sliding his hands under the back of her shirt. Calloused fingertips trailed up and down her spine. They lingered as Riley tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, drawing a groan from his throat that set her blood on fire. She did it again, and his fingers desperately gripped her sides, making her laugh into the kiss.

Riley trailed her lips along Mac’s jaw and down his neck. Her breath hitched as his hands swept up the front of her body, stopping just as his thumbs brush the undersides of her breasts. She moaned, arching into his touch.

Still, Mac paused at her reaction. “Is this okay?” He sounded as nervous as Riley felt.

She curled her fingers in his wild, sleep-mussed hair. "Yes. It's more than okay." When he still hesitated, Riley guided his hands up her chest, playing up her reaction by holding his gaze and biting her lower lip. The way his hands started to squeeze and move on their own told her it did the trick.

Slowly grinding on him, she resumed kissing his neck, determined to leave a mark on his pale skin. Mac gasped, and his hands got a little braver. Slowly, he tugged her shirt off. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, looking at her like she was something holy. Riley shivered. Mac kissed her neck, rubbing her sides and hooking his fingers into the waistband of her underwear before hesitating again.

“Please,” she whined.

Mac flipped them carefully, and Riley squirmed for a few seconds, struggling to put her legs in the right place. She was usually so much better at this—sexier and suave. But Mac just kissed her cheek and waited patiently, smiling softly.

Finally comfortable, Riley nodded. Keep going. His lips applied just the right amount of pressure as he left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her torso, and she melted under his attention. “You are so beautiful,” Mac said between kisses.

Riley didn’t know how Mac stayed so coherent, murmuring compliments and “I love you”s and continually asking permission as he worked his magic with his mouth, his fingers, him, drawing gasps and moans and incoherent babbles from her lips.

The tightness in her back melted into the background as he rocked into her. Nothing mattered in that moment but them.

His movements were slow and gentle, as requested, and that made them all the more dizzying; by the time Mac sent her over the edge, Riley was gone, lost in the delicious haze of love and lust.

She managed to cup Mac’s cheek as he found his own release. He turned his face to kiss her palm, and the intimate gesture made Riley’s heart pound—even more so than any of their previous activities did. Riley pulled him closer, using her hands to encourage him to relax and lay his full weight on her.

“Fuck,” Riley said. “I should’ve made you my boyfriend weeks ago.” Mac beamed at the label.

“And deprive me of the most terrifying road trip of my life?” he mocked, brushing a rogue strand of hair out of her face.

Riley snorted. “Never. Although, next time, we do that together.”

“Together,” Mac agreed.

For the first time, Riley allowed herself to truly imagine what together would look like. A lifetime of it. Something permanent.

All of it.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #i+can't+lose+you #macgyver fanfiction

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