"So anyways, now I have to kill two teenagers"
ever since something in the way ... i've been thinking about bruce/batman and very specifically dry humping while he's in the suit and making him make a mess in the suit and then not letting him clean himself up so he has to go home with the stickiness still on him ... just that small amount of humiliation and power exchange
(okay just a liiiiiiittle smutty drabble because I also like this idea... warning obviously for smut, subby bruce, established relationship and bruce having a praise kink lol)
Bruce gets really, really quiet in times like this. He knows if he opens his mouth, every pathetic moan and beg will spill out. So, he stays quiet and just tries (and fails) to regulate his breathing as you rock your hips on top of him.
You smirk when you feel his gloved hands grip your waist tighter. "Oh, does that feel good?" you ask even though you know he won't answer. You don't need him to-- you can feel his cock throbbing even through the thick suit so it pretty much speaks for itself. But, you decide you need to make him say something or he won't say anything at all. "If it doesn't, I can stop," you offer, beginning to get up off his lap, but he pulls you back down.
"N-no," he chokes, "keep going..."
You smile and brace yourself on his broad, armored shoulders as you start to move again; it feels good, and you let yourself show it by dropping your head back and moaning softly. You know he likes a show, and you're happy to give him one if it makes him that much more desperate. "Touch me," you beg breathlessly, moving one of his hands up to your chest which he squeezes gently through your shirt.
"Let me see you," he pleads, though his tone is flat like it's a demand-- and when he starts to lift your shirt, you slap his hand away.
"You don't need to see," you insist, "feeling is enough."
"Fuck, please," he sighs, and you offer a compromise by pulling off his glove for him and sliding his bare hand under your shirt-- so he can feel everything, properly. It seems to get the job done, because when he gropes your breast in his warm palm, he gasps a little and pushes his hips up against you.
"Good boy," you purr, and he comes undone just like that; his head falls back with a groan and you feel him bucking up into you. "Fuck, Bruce, are you coming in your suit?" you taunt, laughing when he simply whines in response. "Right now? Oh, baby..."
He grunts one last time as you feel him start to relax beneath you, his grip on your chest and waist faltering, and you smile proudly.
"You made a bit of a mess, huh?" you ask, and he nods. "In your fancy suit?"
He nods again. "Yeah..." he admits shyly, almost defeatedly. Poor thing. He looks so cute when he's ashamed like this, it just makes you want to humiliate him further.
"Well, this was fun," you announce as you get up and make sure your shirt is pulled down again, and he looks up at you with widening eyes.
"I don't think you're gonna be able to get Alfred to wash that out, you'll have to do it yourself," you chuckled, turning to walk away.
"Y-you're really leaving?" he realizes.
"Yeah, I've got work to do," you explain, looking back over your shoulder. "So do you. So you might wanna get cleaned up before you hit the streets again, vengeance."
Crimson Rain Sought Flower 🍁🦋
The Lesson (part 2)
First part here
Warnings- Innocence kink, Loss of virginity, Ewan has big dick confirmed, praise, sweet dirty talk?, pet names, unprotected sex, cock warming for a hot sec, aftercare also yeah maybe some light description of ✨fluids✨. im probably missing some i rushed this a bit.
A/N- SURPRISE! this ones wonky filthy and maybe kinda icky. i wrote this baked out of my mind. Sorry it took almost a whole year... I genuinely didn’t expect everyone to like the last part. Tbh I kinda planned to just give up on writing all together but i felt bad and i had some bursts of inspiration here and there. Hope it satisfies! Ending kinda sucks tho sorry ✨Ask box is open if you have any questions comments or concerns ✨
The excitement of knowing that the others had no idea what activities you and your master were up to only sent more chills down your spine. To your surprise the two of you managed to get to his quarters without running into any anyone. With the door shutting behind you, his hands were back on you in an instant. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you. It felt so wrong, but the thought of him wanting you all to himself like this sent butterflies to your stomach. You were barely starting this intimate lesson with your master and you were helplessly greedy for more. His touch suddenly addictive. He quickly made work of stripping you from your clothes, before pulling away to remove his own. You didn’t even get a chance to marvel at his bare body before his lips found yours once more. Your arms found their way around his neck, moving with him as he led you to his bed where he gently laid you down. You had felt the hardness of his length brush against your thigh as he hovered over you. Stars you could still feel how wet you were. How it nearly stuck your thighs together. Your master’s skillful touches stutter when realizing this, he unintentionally thrusted himself in your wet thighs with a moan. You bit your lip as he leaned over to suck and nibble along your throat. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve found his gesture possessive. It all seemed to get to your head. You wanted to touch him. To taste him. With the tiniest bit of confidence you slither a hand down his torso, savoring the feeling of his hot flesh pressed against yours. Your fingers brushing through his trail of coarse hair that lead to your treasure. Your hand barely reached the base of his cock before he had caught your wrist in a gentle but firm grip.
“What do you think your doing little bird?” His voice was like warm honey. A hint of a warning at the back of his throat. You couldn’t help the needy whine that escaped you. “I wanna taste you.” You said suddenly becoming shy. As inexperienced as you were, you were determined to please him. You wanted him to crave your touch as much as you began to crave his. He seems to ponder your eagerness for a second before latching his lips back to your neck with a fever you’ve never seen. “Next time pretty thing.” He groans out. Your heart soared at the thought of another moment like this with your master. You were so caught up in his words you didn’t even register his hands slithering down your curves to rest on the back of your thighs. The warmth of his hands so close on you. His fingers gently press into meat of your silky thighs, his voice coming out in a low soft timbre. “Spread your legs for me darling.” You try and calm your breathing as you slowly expose yourself to the man before you, his hands not moving from where he held you. “Good girl.” He smiles letting out a satisfied moan as he stared at the blushing heat of you. You whimper at his praise. He shushes you softly before sliding a hand down to your mound, two skilled fingers sliding through your slick folds just as they had the previous moments. Teasing circles around your aching entrance, which was now leaking more of your arousal, only making him stroke you faster. You whine pathetically in pleasure, calling out his name. “Obi-wan please.” You found yourself begging him. All this touching was getting you worked up. You could practically feel your skin heating up along with his. The moment feeling so heated so intimate it was seriously fogging your thoughts. You squirmed in his grasp, desperate for more than the teasing touches he was giving. “Patience dove, we’ll get there. Gotta make sure your ready.” His voice came out so soft and husky. Lust mixing in with his velvet honey baritone. His words so foreign and vulgar in your ears you couldn’t help but clench around nothing as he continued his relentless stroking before finally sinking his fingers into you. You gasped at the relief of having his fingers back into your warmth. To gently thrust in and out. Making sure to leave you dangling right on the edge of climax. He took his time to stretch you. His fingers making a scissoring motion for you to accommodate his size. You’re starting to think you could cum like this without his fingers even touching your clit. The way he seemed to reach a spot inside you that you didn’t even know about. You could feel your pussy squeeze around his fingers despite the stretch. He let out a guttural moan at the feeling. So close. You are so fucking close- but he doesn’t give you the chance. The pathetic whine you let out at the loss of him was embarrassing. You would’ve apologized for the sound if it weren’t for the image before you. Your skilled Master, pulling his fingers out to spread your juices along his cock. Stroking it with ease making sure the whole length of him is covered in your essence. A moan leaving both your lips as you made eye contact with him. Half lidded ocean blues turned to cobalt. The lust thick and heavy in the air. “You still want to do this?” He asks, his voice coming back to a soft whisper. Concerned at whether you wanted to take this further. He wanted you comfortable. He wanted you to feel safe with him. You gave him a sheepish smile and nodded. “Yes please.” With a smile of his own he leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before positioning himself between your open thighs. “Ready sweetheart?” He asks taking his length positioning it right at your waiting entrance. With another eager nod from you he begins to slowly press into you. You hold onto him tightly, whining at the intrusion. Your body immediately tensing up. He groaned, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. “Relax dove.” He encourages.
Before you could comment you felt one of his hands slide down to your mound, his middle finger expertly finding your clit and giving it a few swipes. Trying to help ease his way into you inch by inch. Your breath stuttered at the new stinging sensation, letting out a gasp as you felt yourself take more of him. After a few more gentle pushes, he was finally seated inside you. He lets out a sinful moan as he gave you a moment to adjust. “Look at that padawan.” He begins to marvel, taking a look at where you were now connected. “You’re taking me so well darling.” He coos reaching his wet hand up to stroke your cheek. It felt so dirty and intimate. Almost… loving. You were star struck. Glossy eyes staring up at him with awe. Maker you were done for. You reach up, taking his face in your hands to bring it down with yours for another passionate kiss. Your tongues molding with one another. You run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of his lips and his body pressed up on yours. You pull away from him, both of you panting against each others lips. “M-move please.” You whispered. He presses another soft kiss to your head before pulling back. You whimpered at the feeling of him pull out, leaving only the tip, before he gently pushes back in. Letting the stinging ache of him filling you, finally subside with each careful thrust. He finds a steady rhythm, thrusting into the tight heat of you at a controlled pace. Your whimpers turning into moans of pleasure as you finally melt into him. “Master you feel so good.” You moan running your hands through his hair. He grunts in agreement. In awe at you laid before him. This moment completely brandishing itself in both of your memories. His fingers grip your waist as he steadily drives himself into you. Your slick helping ease his every stroke. “Thats it pretty girl, relax for me.” He praises softly. You couldn’t contain the sounds that came from your mouth as he kept his rhythm. The focus of his hips keeping your pleasure under control. He was dragging it out. He was making sure you felt everything. Even the energy in the room had shifted. He was using the force to focus himself on nothing but you. It was like he was devoting himself to you in that moment. No darkness behind his intentions. No wavering emotions set to the darkside. Just completely and utterly him. Pure admiration. Its almost like you could feel his emotions caress you through the force. Like he had more hands to touch you with. He begins to pick up the pace, his hips smacking the back of your thighs, his hands caressing the top of them as he mutters filthy words you can barely hear. The room nearly became to much, you could barely find your words from the added stimulation. “S-so close. Need m-more.” Your words came out whiney and slurred. He slows his thrusts down to a near stop before pulling out, nearly making you sob at the loss of him. In a swift change of positions he lays back on the bed and guides you back to him, letting you hover over his aching cock. A blush came over your face as you held onto his shoulders, not daring to move a muscle. Too nervous to sink down onto him. He rubs comforting circles into your hips, with a sly encouraging smile. “Come on little dove, I’ll give you everything you need just take a seat for me.” His voice coming out low and husky. You could feel your face get redder than before at your master’s words. He was way too good at this. You thought to yourself, timidly reaching a hand down and wrapping your fingers around the base of him. He hums encouraging you to continue. You give him a few pumps before positioning himself back at your entrance and sinking down to the base. The two of you moan and relish in the new sensation of each other. He hits different in this position. Every vein and curve held snug in your walls. “Thats it. Good girl.” He says letting out a soft sigh at the feeling of you clench around him. His praise boosting your confidence enough to slowly start swaying your hips. The new movement devastating the both of you.
His hands guiding your hips back and forth to continue the feeling. You rocked yourself with his movements, feeling yourself climb higher and higher to that peak you craved to reach. Without even noticing his hands left your hips, they slid upward to massage your breasts and feel the rest of your body. He was watching you in awe. “Look at you love. Dont even need my help. Such a pretty thing.” He groans reaching up to tenderly nip and kiss along your neck. Whimpering, you eagerly pick up the pace. He continued to mutter filthy praises from beneath you as you found your rhythm. Bouncing up and down, grinding your hips down onto him when they began to ache with the movement. You could tell he was close by the twitching of his cock and his groans becoming louder. Eager to help you cross the finish line first, Obi-Wan slides a free hand down your body back to your clit. Your wetness coating his fingers as he swipes over your swollen bud. You cry out at the jolting sensation, your walls fluttering around the girth of him. His skillful fingers quickly making work of you. His other hand coming back to your hip to hold you as he thrust himself back into you with new vigor. With one, two, three more swipes you’re done for. You feel yourself lock tight above him and nearly scream. The coil inside snapping and unraveling as you cum. He keeps his fingers on you, making sure you ride it out and with a few more harsh thrusts, your master was cumming right after you. Your walls gently flutter around his pulsing length. The warmth of your combined fluids dripping down making a mess between the two of you. For a few moments neither of you move. Not even after his cock had soften. The two of you perfectly content with the moment. “That was… good. Like.. really good.” You nuzzle yourself into the crook of his neck almost feeling embarrassed. He lets out a hearty chuckle, running his hand along your back comfortingly. “It was perfect. Although we should keep doing it to make sure you understand.” He teases running his hand down to grab at your ass. You giggle sitting up and giving him a roll of your eyes. “Whatever you think is best Master.” You tease back at him biting your lip. He groans before gently lifting you off and pulling out of you. “Alright naughty girl lets get you cleaned up.” He watches as some of his cum drips down your thighs… a barely audible moan leaves his lips and he turns around to leave for the bathroom. Biting your lip you watch as he comes back with a warm wet rag to help clean you up. It was almost more intimate than the sex itself. He was so tender with you. He asked and made sure he didn’t hurt you in any way, he was so gentle in his touch like he thought you would break, he even offered you some water to drink. It was as if the love and care stayed the same no matter the situation. It wasn’t just a sex thing for him. He wasn’t just using you for pleasure and your inexperience. He genuinely adores you. He actually felt the same as you. The revelation felt like a bomb went off in your head and in your heart. As he finishes getting dressed in his robes and is helping you dress back in yours, you reach out to him. Both your hands cupping his cheeks to bring him in for a meaningful kiss. Every tender emotion you felt poured into his lips, only for him to reciprocate the exact feeling back. Both of you pull away, leaving your foreheads to touch. Just enjoying the moment. “Alright love, we better get back to training room before the others begin to wonder where we are and what we are up to.” He sighs about to pull away from you once more. You begin to protest when suddenly you remember something he said earlier, you looked at him with a sneaky smile spread across your face. “What?” He muses. You wrap your arms around his neck innocently. “Maybe we can… you know… just make up some excuse and stay here to finish the rest of our lesson. You did say I’d get to taste you later.” You say casually. Looking up at him with false innocence behind your eyes. He is quiet for a moment as he looks at you.
After a quiet moment, he snaps, pulling you in for another kiss. This time passion and hunger filled. “You’re gonna get us both in trouble Little Dove.”
i would LITERALLY give up ALL of my morals for one night with eddie munsun and steve harrington
“So,” Will said, gingerly sitting down next to Mike on the sofa. The Byers’ old sofa, brought from Hawkins when they moved six months ago. A bit ratty, but full of memories. Some too dark to think about - his mom’s Christmas lights seemed so far away now and he hoped to keep it that way - but good ones, too. Plenty of moments with his mom and Jonathan, or with the Party, sitting on this couch back in Hawkins. Or with Mike. Just like right now. But different. Different because California. And, well. For a lot of reasons.
After an awkward pause while he tried to think of something to say, he cleared his throat and tried again. Mike was only half looking at him. They were sitting 2 feet apart, finally in the same state after half a year, and somehow Mike had never felt further away. “So, uh. How’s. How’s Hawkins been?”
Mike looked away as Will finished his sentence and tried to make eye contact. Shrugged one shoulder, looked halfway ready to roll his eyes. Like a teacher had asked him why his homework was late. Why? Will didn’t understand. It hurt, the feeling of distance.
Maybe he was a bit of a masochist. Or maybe he was getting tired of Mike being… just… weird. Ever since he got here an hour or so ago. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was quickly becoming incredibly annoying. Not like he’d been waiting to see his best friend for what felt like a lifetime, or anything.
So he pushed a button he half-hoped would start a fight. Or, more accurately, maybe finish one. “I guess it must feel pretty lonely there without El, huh?”
Mike inhaled sharply, pausing looking around the room to freeze - and then his demeanor changed. He breathed out a big sigh, and his body seemed to sink a tiny bit deeper into the couch. Like he had released some tension he had been holding for a long time.
“…Yeah. Yeah, it is lonely.”
Taken back a little by the shift, Will said the next thought that came to mind truthfully, forgetting he was trying to push Mike’s buttons: “She misses you too, you know.”
Mike pressed the palm of both hands into his eyes and scrubbed them down his face. “I know she does. She writes me letters.”
Will smiled a little at that, sadly. “I know. I’ve seen her writing.”
Mike was silent for a moment, hands at his neck propping up his chin, body still turned slightly away, still not looking at Will. “How come…” he paused, seemed to think better of it. “Never mind.”
Will glanced at Mike, then across the living room to where Mike’s bags had been unceremoniously dumped in the corner when they got home from the airport. El was at school. Will’s grades were good and he could afford to take the afternoon off to help his mom collect Mike from the airport. El’s grades were… not.
Looking a little more closely at Mike’s largest bag, he thought he saw the red edge of a DND set peeking out a partly open zipper.
Spirits buoyed by the thought, he glanced back at Mike. “Never mind what? What were you gonna say?”
Mike’s hands had moved to his pants leg, where there was a loose thread. He was worrying it. “Um, it’s, like. I dunno dude. It’s nothing.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Well, dude. I know it’s been a while, but you can still talk to me. How come what?”
Mike blew a sigh out his nose. “How come… you never wrote?” He pulled harder on the loose string. “If you knew El was.”
Will watched Mike pull the string, feeling his heart start to thump a tiny bit louder than it had been a moment before. Oh. “Oh. Um. Well, we talk on the phone. Don’t we?”
“Course,” Mike mumbled. “Sometimes.” The string snapped. “…Just, you know. I definitely know that… like, I know that El misses me. For sure.”
Will’s thudding heart suddenly sank into his stomach. “…Ohh. I see. I’m pretty sure she still thinks you’re dating, Mike. I don’t think you have to worry about that.” His words came out about a tenth as bitter as he felt.
Mike’s eyebrows knitted together sharply, and he temporarily abandoned the hole in the knee of his jeans that he was now picking at. He glanced up at Will, making eye contact for the first time since the airport, Will guessed. “What? No.” He looked away again. “I mean yeah. I mean, I just don’t know if… I don’t know if you…”
Will kept looking at him, one eyebrow quirked up. “If I what?”
True to form, Mike, seeming to know he was caught, threw both arms up in exasperation and awkwardness. “If you, like, miss me at all!” Will’s heart flew back up into his mouth. “I feel like I’m going fucking crazy over there, my girlfriend’s gone,” Will’s heart sank again, “my best friend’s gone,” and rose again - this was getting nauseating, “and I just… it sucks! It fucking sucks. And I don’t even know if, like.” His wildly gesticulating arms came to rest, finally. “If I’m all alone in feeling that. Since you’re all, like. In sunny California and everything. And El sounds so happy. And you… y’know. You don’t write, so I don’t know.” He rubbed one hand down his forehead and eyes again, muttering almost to himself. “Feel like I’m going fucking crazy over there.”
They sat in silence for a second. Mike kept rubbing his hand on his cheek and eyes.
Will’s turn to heave a sigh. This was exhausting. “Mike, are you asking if I’ve missed you? I think that’s a pretty obvious yes.”
Mike stopped rubbing his face. He glanced in Will’s direction. “…Oh.”
Will smiled. “Yeah. I mean, I help El, you know. With school. It’s a lot. So I’m pretty busy with that, and I’m tired a lot of the time. But whenever I’m not distracted by that stuff, I miss you really badly. To be honest, I try to distract myself with helping El so that I don’t miss you as bad. And the Party,” he added as an afterthought. It was hard to tell where the line was with sharing feelings with Mike, these days. Best to give them both an out in case they needed one.
“Oh.” Mike said again. He looked tired, like this conversation was exhausting him, and also like he didn’t know what to say next. Will was exhausted too - not being able to just be himself with Mike was more tiring than he could put into words.
A moment several years ago when he had been able to be himself in front of Mike - and only Mike - with no filter flashed into his mind. This memory was worn a bit thin, like a tape cassette from repeat plays. He smiled, remembering.
“…I feel a bit crazy, sometimes, too, to be honest. Missing you, I mean. Missing you all. So, at least you’re not alone. I’m over here in California, going crazy too.” He made sure to rephrase it. To reframe for modern times. He kept his voice nonchalant - no need for Mike to know how much this memory meant to him, if he didn’t immediately get the reference. (Which he was braced for.)
A beat. Mike was quiet. Will’s heart started to shrivel up like a leaf in winter, despite the sun pouring through the windows.
One side of Mike’s mouth turned up into a smile. His whole face softened. Finally, he turned his body, shifted a little bit towards Will. Almost shyly, he lifted his eyes up and met Will’s.
“…I guess we’re both going a bit crazy, huh?”
Will couldn’t breathe right. His heart was an entire tree trying to burst into spring bloom out his chest. Mike remembered. He remembered. “…Yeah. Both of us.” He affirmed, feeling a little bit dizzy.
Mike finally smiled with his whole mouth, eyes moving back and forth between Will’s. In a voice so soft Will wondered if he was dreaming this moment for the hundredth time, Mike murmured, “…crazy together.”
In the name of the booty, I’ll sit on you ✨
@lonerdude79 claims this energy 💫
im probably gonna delete cause I’m self conscious rn
commissions for @sky-fire-forever of his junoverse next-gen OC’s! these drawings belong to him so no reposting without his permission, but i wanted to share because his next-gen concepts are so fun <3
the first kid is nastya steel, daughter of juno and diamond (and raised by juno, diamond, and nureyev). she loves celebrities like the kanagawas so i gave her a “cecil kanagawa” brand bag lol. second two are rita and zeze nureyev, twin daughters of jupeter. rita is a bookworm and music lover, zeze is bubbly and extroverted (and inherited her dad’s pointy teeth!)
the last kid is pepper, adopted by jupeter from the brahman surface. the scar on their face is from a GAS laser. they idolized the angel of brahma growing up and are a bit disappointed by the real thing, rip nureyev!
[ID: four digital drawing commissions. the first shows a young dark-skinned woman with long white box braids. she has glasses and is dressed fashionably, carrying a purse. the second is a dark-skinned girl with dyed blue curls and glasses, wearing a button-down and skirt. she is holding a book and listening to music on a portable device. the third drawing is a dark-skinned girl with a brown afro sitting in a wheelchair. she is dressed in blue overalls and beaming happily. the last drawing is of a nonbinary teenager with medium brown skin and freckles, ginger hair done in two braids, and wearing neutral-colored utilitarian clothes. they are brandishing a knife and look contemptuous. END ID]
I made one
Tie Your Heart to Mine Pt. 1
Pairings: Matt Murdock/GN!Reader
Word Count: 2.8k
Summary: A red string to lead you to your soulmate. Pain to move you to find them.
Notes: Reader lives in New York for convenience. I tried writing that they didn't in the first draft, but it along with other factors weren't working for me. Also, reader is referred to using they/them pronouns a couple of times to try to make it more inclusive.
Prefer reading on AO3? Click Here
Your string wasn’t always there. It didn’t appear for most until they were older, more settled into who they were. Children, fickle with their feelings as they are, don’t have the red strings that lead soulmates to each other, or at the very least, they couldn’t see them. The strings themselves were a curious thing. Visible only to those to whom it belonged, it floated freely by their sides, only tying their people together when they met.
But even though the string was visible, it wasn’t a physical thing. It could be touched, but it held no weight, had no real form, not until it tied itself around a finger. When you brushed a hand through the path of the string, if you were able to do so, if it didn’t carefully avoid your touch, it could bring you the soft, quiet hope of the person on the other end, their love for you.
Everyone viewed their soulmates differently and would feel different things when they touched the string. Some would feel nothing, an indifference to a person they hadn’t yet met. But you? You hadn’t met the person on the other end of your string, but you knew they cared for you deeply already and you couldn’t help but feel the same.
One morning, you woke to find the string hovering close, closer than it normally would. You barely had to reach for it. You smiled, wondering if it meant your soulmate was thinking about you, or if, perhaps, it was a sign you were going to meet them soon.
But when you touched the string, you didn’t feel any of the normal pulses of warmth and affection. Instead, you felt nothing but pain. And then you didn’t feel anything at all.
When you came to, a quick look at the time told you only a few minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity. The pain you felt, so complete in how it tore you apart physically, mentally, had tears falling from your eyes. It was all from your soulmate.
Clearly something had happened, but you had no idea what and had no way to find out. All you knew for certain was that they were still alive. After all, the string was still there, though not floating as closely as it had when you first woke. Some consolation that was. Your soulmate was in pain, maybe dying but not yet dead, and there was nothing you could do about it.
At least, you didn’t think so, not at first.
You had never been one to spend hours combing the internet for information about the strings and people’s experiences finding their soulmate. You figured it would all come in time. You weren’t in any rush. But things had changed. You needed to find your soulmate and you were willing to try just about anything if it could lead you to them.
You read about some people being able to follow their strings to their soulmate, but that didn’t seem like a possibility if your soulmate wasn’t in the same room as you, let alone the same city. You don’t imagine you could follow a string in a car or a plane.
Some people suggested getting a location reading from a witch or a psychic, but obviously that wasn’t reliable. Whether you believed or not that it would work didn’t take into account that there were people out there claiming they could find your soulmate just to make a quick buck.
But what else could you do? You didn’t want to wait any longer, you couldn’t.
Matt felt like shit. Between getting almost ripped apart by Nobu and then left broken by Foggy, he felt like he was losing everything. Sometimes, when you went too long without touching the string, Matt thought he was losing you, too.
Matt had no way to find his string, though, because of you, he knew he had a soulmate. No matter how hard he tried to sense it, it was like it wasnt there, completely invisible to him. And even if–when he tried to reach for it, Matt had no clue where it was. For all he knew, he was reaching in the completely wrong direction.
There had been exactly one time where he managed to catch a hold of his string, though. He thought about it often. It was that first night he ever went out. After…taking care of the man abusing his daughter, he returned to his apartment. For a while, Matt just sat in one of the chairs, processing it all. When he leaned back, right arm propped up on the armrest, he clenched his fist—around the string. It was pure chance, something Matt had never been able to replicate no matter how many times he tried. It was late at night, depending on where you were in the world, you were probably sleeping. But even so, he still felt that familiar affection flowing into him, washing away the lingering doubt that had crawled into his mind. Matt gasped when the feeling flowed into him, his body filled with warmth. It felt so much…better when he was able to touch the string himself. He threw his head back against the chair, his whole body relaxing—except for the hand that clung to the string. Matt held onto it for what felt like hours, refusing to let go even as the sensations faded to a quiet pulse every now and again. He needed to know you were there, wherever you were, and that you cared about him. Matt fell asleep like that and he would swear, even though the position was uncomfortable when he woke up, it was the best sleep he had ever gotten.
Matt wondered, if he reached out a hand now, if he’d get lucky again and catch his string. He didn’t have to try, though. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt you. Though Matt couldn’t feel the string, he could feel you, as if you were right there next to him. Filled with the warmth of you and the burst of affection he felt in his chest, Matt let out a quiet whine, a few more tears slipping from his eyes, joining the ones from the night before.
He curled in on himself, trying to hold onto those pieces of you for as long as possible. But your warmth didn’t last. It felt like you were leaving him now, too.
Matt’s fingers twitched, like he was trying to reach for his string, for you, but in the end he thought better of it. If you wanted to leave him too then he would let you. Matt had no idea what you felt on your end of the string, but he doubted it was pleasant.
Could you feel it, he wondered. What he did, what he’s going through? Maybe…maybe it would be best if the two of you never found each other. Matt curled up even more, trying to block out thoughts of you.
If anyone ever asked how you found your soulmate, you were going to say it was random chance. You just bumped into each other while walking on the sidewalk. Maybe you knocked them over. That sounded cute, right? Normal, even.
No way were you ever going to admit you scoured the internet in search of a way to find out where in the world your soulmate was. Certainly you didn’t consult a witch who claimed she could give an approximate location on people’s soulmates for a price.
You were also never going to disclose the price to anyone. All you knew for certain was that she came highly recommended and you figured if aliens and gods who could control lightning were now a regular occurrence, who’s to say that witches weren't also real?
What she said to you gave you pause, though. You almost asked for your money back before remembering you agreed that there wouldn't be any refunds. But that was before, when you expected her to say someplace like Montana. What you weren’t expecting was for her to tell you that your soulmate was close.
And that they were in Hell.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
It wasn’t until a day later, when you half listened to the local news that you heard about the man in the mask running around Hell’s Kitchen, that it hit you.
You weren’t far from that area of Manhattan. Perhaps taking a quick walk through the neighborhood wouldn’t be a bad idea. And maybe you’d ask for a day off work and try again if you didn’t find anything. And if nothing came of it, well, no one would know. Besides, it was the closest thing you could think of if the physical location of your soulmate was Hell while also being close to you.
But if you didn’t find them, then you would be back at square one. So, as crazy as it seemed, you hoped you found your soulmate.
It was still early enough in the day that you figured going to Hell’s Kitchen was worth a shot. When you got there, having the cab drop you off at some random restaurant to make it look like you were there for a logical reason, you looked at your string.
It didn’t look any different than normal, though you didn’t really expect it to. If anything, it floated farther away from you than it normally did. Most of the time, it never hung close. Occasionally it seemed to deftly avoid your touch, much like it was doing now. You couldn’t explain it. All you or anyone could figure was that it moved based on your soulmate’s feelings.
You looked down the path your string was leading, knowing vaguely which direction your soulmate was. Strings only flowed in one direction. Each person could see their end of the string freely floating by their side if they had yet to meet their soulmate. Because of that, finding which way your soulmate was wasn’t technically difficult, but again, it was only useful if your soulmate was close.
Which, according to the so-called witch, they were. You just had to figure out where exactly they were, if they were even in this city.
Not knowing what else to do for the moment, you sighed and started walking. You figured if it started leading you out of the neighborhood you’d call it quits.
Your eyes drifted away from your string every now and again, instead taking in everything around you. You weren’t familiar with this part of the city so everything felt new. Then something glittered out of the corner of your eye.
You jerked your head back to where your string was, but it was just as it had always been. After watching your string for a minute nothing changed. It was probably just sunlight hitting a car that you saw.
Then, just as your eyes started to wander again, your string pulsed with light, the red color of it deepening. It only lasted a moment. Had you not been paying attention you would have missed it. You’d never seen your string do that.
But you have heard about it.
Heart racing, you picked up your pace, following it to wherever—whoever it was leading you toward. You hastily dodged around a couple of people on the sidewalk, saying nothing when you shoulder-checked a guy while trying to stay off the street but still follow the trail of your string.
Eventually you were led to a closed door, a building leading to several different business offices. Your string pulsed again. You paused for a moment to catch your breath, thinking about what was about to happen.
Somewhere, it seemed, inside this building, your soulmate was waiting. You wondered if they'd noticed the string changing, signaling that you were close. You tried to think of something to say, but all thoughts had escaped your mind. All you could think of was that you’d finally be able to see them, see if they’re alright. Ask them about the other night.
Just…be with them, this person you’re meant to be with. Who’s supposedly the other half of you.
None of those thoughts made it easier to breathe. Instead, it was harder. You half considered just turning around, leaving, pretending you hadn’t been so close to whoever was on the other end of your string.
But something in you pulled you closer to the door. After everything, you couldn’t not meet them. So you opened the door, following the string forward, and up a set of stairs.
It led you toward another door, a shabby looking piece of cardboard taped to the glass. You paid less attention to what it said and more to the fact that your string led straight through the door. Your soulmate was on the other side.
With shaking hands you opened the door.
Inside you saw a blonde woman and a brunette man with red glasses, both turned in your direction. You looked back and forth between the two for a moment, wondering. But then you noticed the end of your string, the end you’ve never seen before, floating next to the man.
“I’m really sorry, but we’re not taking clients right now,” the woman said. “If you come back in a couple days…” she trailed off, probably noticing that you weren’t paying attention to her. The man just stared at you.
“H-hi,” you stammered, nerves hitting you in full force. “I’m you’re—we’re…” Not finding the words, you waved your left hand, the side on which your string was currently hovering, toward the man.
Then it hit you. The warmth, the love. The man gasped and stumbled back a step, the breath getting knocked out of him as, right before your eyes, the string reached for him, tying around the third finger on his right hand. You glanced down at your hand, seeing the string wrapped around your own finger.
You could feel it there, the sensation much like wearing a ring. Never before had you ever physically felt your string. It was always just the feelings of your soulmate coming to you when you moved through its path. Sometimes, it felt like he was there with you, hovering over your shoulder, but that was it.
To finally feel it, and have him standing there right in front of you, was overwhelming. This wasn’t like the other times you touched your string. This felt like coming home.
You smiled, looking back up at the man. He just stood there, stunned, saying nothing.
You took another step forward and introduced yourself. Your hands twitched at your sides, eager to grab onto his, to make sure that he was okay, but you refrained. You couldn’t be sure he would be okay with being touched by a stranger. The small cuts and bruises on his face gave away that something had happened to him, though.
A moment of silence passed and the man didn’t say anything. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, starting to get nervous for a different reason.
You opened your mouth, about to say something else though you weren’t sure what, when the man finally spoke.
“No,” he said before brushing past you and running out the door.
You stood there, stunned. You had found him, your soulmate, the person who was supposed to be the perfect complement to you, and he ran. And his running answered your question of whether he was okay or not. Whatever it was you felt the other night clearly wasn’t as bad as you thought it was. The warmth you felt when your string tied you to him was gone now, leaving you cold, empty.
After what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than a minute, you turned to leave.
“Hey, wait.” The woman who had been standing there with you laid a hand on your arm, trying to stop you. You quickly shrugged her off and ran out of the building.
As you burst out of the building, you kept going, not choosing any particular path, instead just wanting to get away as fast as possible. It wasn’t until you had walked almost two blocks that you saw you were following your string again. You stopped, trying to blink away the wetness in your eyes, and turned around, walking back the way you came, even crossing the street to avoid walking past the building he had been in.
You walked for another couple of blocks before you finally stopped, stepping off to the side, trying to take a moment to collect yourself. Eventually, you pulled out your phone, calling for a cab to take you home.
You couldn’t help but feel like this had been a mistake.
omega!reader who moves into a new apartment after she leaves her abusive alpha , that got her pregnant and beat her when she told him the news
reader has one last box to carry but it’s a heavy one. When she exits the elevator and attempts to pick up the box ; she only sees the tattooed back of a beefy alpha picking her box up and dropping it off at her apartment
She never properly sees his face , but the tattoo on his back is clear as day : (insert name Bc I can’t think of one) motorcycle club
who’s the alpha
This is giving me alpha!Steve or beefy!Bucky vibes, maybe even beefy!alpha!Stucky x reader vibes
red lights, stop signs
msby x reader
summary: learning how to drive can’t be that hard, right?
One of the many insufferable things about Atsumu is that he can’t keep his mouth shut.
The only times he would consider it would be if someone was holding a gun to his head or if his manager was threatening to quit if he accidentally went viral as a meme again because of his interviews.
Other than that, Atsumu can’t shut up.
Usually, you were able to tune him out. His voice was one that could be considered pleasant which meant you had an easier time forcing him into the background.
Today, however, it was impossible to ignore him.
“You don’t know how to drive?”
“Get out of my kitchen.”
“How have you not learned by now?”
“Oh my God, please leave me alone.”
Atsumu spins around in his barstool. He’s seated at your counter so technically he’s not in your kitchen.
“I don’t get how you have gone so long without your license! Does Omi do all the grocery shopping? Does he take you to work?”
You continue to roughly chop the carrots. Does he think the subway system ceased to exist the moment he had enough money to afford a car? Ugh, professional athletes make you sick.
Kiyoomi does, however, do all the grocery shopping. His main reason for doing so is because he can’t stand to see ugly fruit or vegetables and he doesn’t trust you to pick the ripest green apples. Him being the sole grocery shopper has nothing to do with your lack of license.
Slowing down your chopping, you frown. Maybe it does have to do with you not having your license yet.
It is more inconvenient for you to get groceries, and especially with the amount of food Kiyoomi consumes in only one week, seeing as you would be forced to travel by subway and then have to order an Uber at the last stop to get home. Kiyoomi’s hours are more flexible than yours on certain days so he’s able to pick them up on his down time whereas you would be stuck with all those bags at the peak of rush hour.
“Omi does do all the grocery shopping,” Atsumu gasps, covering his mouth with his hand.
“And I do all the cooking. It evens out,” you shoot back without thinking.
While Kiyoomi micromanages what produce is brought home, you have full control over the kitchen. He isn’t a bad cook per se, but his food is very bland. It is so terribly bland that you blame him studying abroad in London for this flaw.
The thing is, his bland cooking doesn’t add up with his taste. He loves those Korean spicy noodles and he adores Indian food. His favorite nights are the ones where you make a big pot of biryani.
Something isn’t clicking.
You cease your chopping. Has Kiyoomi tricked you into cooking because he doesn’t want to do it? Or is being around Atsumu making you think the worst of Kiyoomi by association?
“How do you live like that?”
“I mean, we split the chores so it’s actually really nice.”
Atsumu waves his hand at you. He slides off the stool to come into your kitchen. “No, not that. The whole not-being-able-to-leave-when-you-want-to thing.”
You point your knife at him. “You got a car less than a year ago. It’s a little hypocritical to be acting all holier-than-thou with me.”
He rolls his eyes and leans over to grab some of your chopped carrots despite the stink eye you give him.
You’re giving him less food whenever dinner is ready, the thieving fuck. He saw how much you struggled cutting these carrots up. Kiyoomi had a lapse of judgment at the store and bought you a bag full of baby carrots. You’re fairly sure the bag described them as petite baby carrots.
“Yeah, but I’ve had my license since I was in the league,” he says while he chews, “So if something happened and I needed to drive a car, I could.”
Gross, you could see the carrot bits stuck to his molars with him this close to you.
“I’m sure if an emergency came up, I’d be able to figure it out.”
Driving cannot be that hard. Sixteen year olds do it all the time with minimal injuries in the US. Some kids are even able to get their licenses as young as fourteen years old if they had a special circumstance.
You just press the gas or brake pedals depending on the situation and spin the steering wheel. What is so difficult about that?
There are people out there on the roads who have licenses and still suck at driving. Odds are, your driving could be on par with those other drivers.
He cuts you a disbelieving look but shoves more carrots into his mouth instead of refuting you.
“Stop eating the ingredients,” you scold, slapping his hand away from the cutting board.
“But I’m hungry!” he whines. “And you’re taking too long!”
Bodily shoving him to the side, which is no easy task seeing as the team is in full conditioning mode for the upcoming season, you stand in front of your cutting board protectively.
“Go eat at home then!”
“Why? You’re making dinner aren’t you?”
Bless his heart because he actually looks confused as he says that. Again, professional athletes make you sick.
“I’m making soup. And you don’t even like soup,” you say.
Then you make a face. He’s been coming over too often if you know his preferences.
Atsumu tries to peek over your shoulder. “Who said I didn’t like soup?”
“You did. When I made that butternut squash soup two weeks ago.”
“It had nutmeg in it.”
He says it like that is enough explanation. And maybe it is.
“If I put nutmeg in this soup, will you eat it?”
You step back so you can pull out your spice drawer. Nutmeg isn’t an orthodox spice for tomato soup but Atsumu doesn’t know that.
“There’s nutmeg in this soup.”
“You’re still making the grilled cheeses though, right?”
You squint at him. “How did you know that?”
“You only like grilled cheese when you have tomato soup.”
There’s something to be said about how much time you spend with him if Atsumu knows your preferences as well.
“We’re having grilled cheese?” Bokuto calls from the entrance.
He’s toeing off his shoes while Kiyoomi strips out of his outerwear.
“Yeah. And tomato soup,” you call back.
Bokuto cheers and makes his way to the kitchen. He stands behind you to peer over your shoulder.
“Can you get that towel and take out the tomatoes in the oven?” you ask Bokuto, pointing to the island table.
He nods, brushing past Atsumu.
“Did you guys know that [Y/N] doesn’t know how to drive?”
You whirl around to look at Atsumu. “Why would you say that?”
Yeah, now you’re definitely grating some nutmeg over his soup.
A loud crash sounds behind you and Atsumu.
Bokuto’s standing with his hands only holding the towel and the pan on the counter. Half of the vegetables you had been roasting for the past hour are spilled over the counter. Thankfully, the tomatoes are all still on the pan but the same cannot be said for the celery or red peppers.
“You don’t know how to drive?”
You stare at Bokuto and then at his empty hands. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like he’s burned himself. “Why did you drop the pan?”
“I can teach you!”
“You know how to drive?”
You don’t mean to sound incredulous but you don’t think you have seen Bokuto in the driver’s seat. Ever.
“Yeah, Akaashi taught me. I just don’t like it,” he shrugs.
He’s scooping up the fallen vegetables and brings the pan over to you. Bokuto smiles down at you and you turn back to the cutting board to keep from staring at him.
Your face isn’t warm. No way.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
You don’t need much convincing when it comes to Bokuto.
“Just us?” you ask, a bit of hope in your voice.
Bokuto opens his mouth but Atsumu beats him. “Me and Omi too! We’re the best drivers.”
He points his thumb at himself proudly.
“That’s debatable,” Kiyoomi says flatly as he enters the kitchen.
He’s in a pair of sweats and hoodie despite how hot it is in the kitchen currently.
He nods towards the blender, raising his eyebrows at the pan of vegetables.
You shake your head. “Give me 10 minutes.”
“We’ll go tomorrow after breakfast,” Atsumu decides as if any of you have agreed to him showing up.
“Yay,” you mumble.
“It’ll be fun! I’ll be the best teacher you’ve ever had!” Bokuto declares, smiling widely at you.
Your heart skips a beat at the sight. “Sounds great,” you croak out.
You’re trying not to focus on how perfect his teeth are nor the way his eyes crinkle at the corners with the force of his smile.
“They grow up so fast,” Atsumu sniffles, wiping away a fake tear.
You look to the ceiling and cross your middle finger over your index. Hopefully, Kiyoomi pushes Atsumu out of the car at some point tomorrow.
Hinata’s in the car.
“Why are you here?” you ask.
You’re surprised so your tone is sharper than you intended but you don’t rush to apologize. Hinata shouldn’t be here. He didn’t even come over for dinner last night!
“Atsumu-san said we were teaching you to drive today!” he says brightly.
You squint. You didn’t agree to this. “Go home.”
“Aw, come on. I’m already here!”
“Yeah, so drive back.”
He stares at you. “Atsumu drove me here. You know I don’t have my Japanese license.”
“You don’t need that to drive back.”
“That’s definitely illegal.”
“Are you planning on breaking any traffic laws?” you shoot back.
He frowns. “Of course not.”
You make a shooing gesture. You don’t need to be humiliated in front of Hinata as well. “Then go home.”
“You’re not kicking out Shoyo, are you?” Atsumu whines from behind you.
The rest of the boys are filing out of your apartment like they’re on a mission.
Kiyoomi has his dark sunglasses perched on his nose, giving Bokuto a severe look over the tops of them when he stumbles out of the door. He has on an all black outfit. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he is going undercover.
Bokuto is bounding down the steps with his usual workout outfit on and it definitely does not help the minuscule crush you have on him from deepening. Not at all.
Kiyoomi’s keys are dangling from his pointer finger. You know he had to pry those out of Kiyoomi’s hands as if his life depended on it. They took too long grabbing their stuff for it not to be because Kiyoomi was lecturing them on what they can and can’t do in his car.
Atsumu has his head shoved on your shoulder as he looks into the car with you. He’s dressed comfortably with sweats and some MSBY sweatshirt from the last season. He has something in his hands but you can’t tell what it is.
He sees you turning your head to look at what’s clenched in his hands, narrowly avoiding knocking into his cheek as you do so.
“Guess what I have,” he sings, waving whatever’s in his hand.
You grab his wrist, ignoring his immediate blubbering about how it’s too early for you to start flirting with him.
Prying the paper out of his hand, you take a look at it.
BEWARE: STUDENT DRIVER
“You’re so funny,” you deadpan.
It’s not a sticker so you can assume he is going to tape it to Kiyoomi’s car.
He definitely did not run that by Kiyoomi before he printed it.
“That just means people are going to treat us worse on the road, you dumb fuck,” Kiyoomi grumbles.
He’s opening a shot of that nasty ginger concoction he drinks every morning. He even has the nerve to pass another one to you with no orange juice or water to act as a chaser.
“You hate me,” you say.
Tipping the bottle back, you grimace as a flood of ginger enters your mouth. You have no proof that drinking this has made your health better but it definitely hasn’t made your health worse so you continue to choke down this concoction to keep your roommate happy.
Repressing the urge to spit out the remnants in your mouth, you hand Kiyoomi the empty bottle.
“Does that actually help?” Atsumu asks. He’s looking at the bottles with mild interest.
“Yes.” Both Kiyoomi and Hinata answer.
You turn your head to look back into the backseat. “You drink those?”
“You seem like the type.”
His face screws up. “Is that supposed to be offensive?”
You shrug. Kind of a loaded question considering that Kiyoomi is right there.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Bokuto interrupts.
He looks excited.
He hands you the keys. “Here you go, driver!”
You take them from him, trying not to look as charmed as you feel at the moniker.
“Shouldn’t you show them where everything is?” Atsumu says.
Kiyoomi scoffs. “You’re acting like Bokuto can’t do that from the driver’s seat. Get in.”
He motions towards the middle seat.
“I don’t want to sit in the middle!”
“Then don’t come.”
“You're so mean. I’m too tall to sit there.”
“I’m too tall to sit there,” Kiyoomi mimics.
“You sit there then.”
“It’s my car. I’m not sitting in the middle seat.”
Hinata turns his head to face the window. He gestures towards his headphones without looking at any of you. There’s a few audible clicks as he turns up his music.
Kiyoomi starts tapping his foot. “Either get in or go back to the apartment.”
Atsumu stands there for a few seconds more with a pleading look at Kiyoomi before sighing dramatically. He ducks his head and enters the car. He curls his legs to himself, shoulders hunched and eyes miserable.
Atsumu’s plight has nothing to do with you so you open your door, sliding into the driver’s seat.
You’re shocked at how far the seat is pushed back. Your feet are resting on the floor of the car, no pedals in sight.
“Is this car even big enough for you, Kiyoomi?” you ask in disbelief.
He has one of those fancy cars that require you to press a button to move the seat forward so it takes a good few seconds for you to adjust the seat to where you need it.
Thankfully, no one says anything as you do so.
He’s shifting behind your seat, stretching out his legs in the newly acquired room.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
Your back is pressed flush against the back of the seat, the placement forcing you to sit with the best posture you have had in weeks.
It’s typical of Kiyoomi that he sits as if he’s been in the military or something.
“Hands at 10 and 2,” Bokuto instructs.
You move your hands to place them where he said when he leans over you.
You freeze, your breathing stalling.
He grabs something on your side and then pulls back. The drag of his arm across your waist has your knees weak. It’s a methodical touch but you can’t seem to convince your brain of that. It’s working too hard to keep you from having a heart attack to listen to your rationality.
He buckles you in, clicking the seatbelt into place and falls back into his own seat.
“Safety first,” he says cheerfully as he buckles himself in.
“Totally,” you manage to say.
Shaking off that adrenaline rush, you twist in your seat to look at your other passengers.
Atsumu looks delighted at the expression on your face while Hinata searches for his seatbelt. Kiyoomi looks unimpressed as per usual with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Atsumu, put on your seatbelt,” you order, ignoring the way he’s grinning at you.
“You should do it for me. You know, part of your driving lesson,” he teases.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I mean based on your-“
He’s cut off as Hinata leans over him to buckle him in.
“There you go, Atsumu-san.”
Hinata winks at you as he moves back into his seat.
You hide your smile. Okay, maybe having Hinata here isn’t the worst.
Truth be told, if you had it your way, these lessons would only involve Bokuto. But you suppose you would allow Hinata to come as well if you had to bring someone else along.
Alas, luck is not on your side and you have all of MSBY’s rookies seated in Kiyoomi’s car.
“Okay, what next?” you ask.
“Adjust the mirrors,” Bokuto instructs.
You move the rearview mirror, winking at Kiyoomi when he comes to view. He rolls his eyes.
You finish adjusting the side mirrors and place your hands back on the steering wheel. You look at Bokuto expectantly.
“Alright, now the most important part: the music,” he says gravely.
Kiyoomi cuts in, “No music.”
“Omi,” Atsumu warns, barely turning his head.
“No. Music,” he repeats flatly.
“We either listen to music or Hinata sings the entire time.”
You nod. “Hinata has a pretty good voice.”
“Fine,” Kiyoomi huffs. “Nothing obnoxious though.”
“You ready?” Bokuto asks, scrolling through his Spotify.
You let out a loose sigh and straighten up further. Your hands are gripped on the steering wheel, tighter than the nonchalant look you’re going for warrants. There’s nothing to it. It’s just driving.
It’s dead silent on the drive back.
You’re not driving. You have switched seats with Kiyoomi. Atsumu is clutching at your thigh, digging his thumb in.
You can’t even look at him.
Luckily, the silence in the car has nothing to do with you. The worst thing you did today was run over a curb in the parking lot after Bokuto had decided that your first lesson would be dealing with the parking lot.
It went fine.
Until it didn’t.
Atsumu had been arguing with Kiyoomi that he was the best driver out of this group. For some reason, Kiyoomi motioned towards the driver's seat and said, “Go ahead.”
You still haven’t come up with a reason for why Kiyoomi said that. Your working theory is that he was briefly possessed by a roadside demon and the timing was unfortunate to coincide with Atsumu bragging about himself.
There had been some reshuffling as you switched with Atsumu. You muttered an apology to Kiyoomi when you brushed against his thigh as you buckled up which he waved off. He tugged his mask up higher on his face and scooted over to give you some more room.
Atsumu adjusts the mirrors and winks at you through the rearview mirror. “Everyone ready?” he sings.
He’s talking animatedly as he backs out of the parking spot, irritating Kiyoomi enough that he starts kicking at Atsumu’s seat. He quits it once Atsumu maneuvers the car onto the highway but the mutinous look is still on his face.
“You did pretty good for your first time,” Hinata says.
You laugh. “I’m glad I was able to conquer driving around a parking lot.”
It had been nerve wracking though you won’t admit that to any of these boys. Mostly because they were the reason why it felt so nerve wracking. There had been too many eyes focused on your every movement.
The back of your neck is still slightly damp from the stress sweats you broke into when you first hit the curb. You couldn’t bear to look at Kiyoomi considering it was his car.
He had moved forward and patted your shoulder, holding his hand there for a brief second. You’re still not sure if that was reassurance or a threat. Regardless, you didn’t hit another curb for the rest of the time you were driving.
“Wait till you learn how to reverse park,” Kiyoomi sighs, leaning his head back.
You make a face. “I don’t want to learn that.”
“What! It’s so easy,” Bokuto gasps, turning dramatically to face you.
“And Kiyoomi has a backup camera!” Hinata chimes in.
You squint at him. “No license, no opinion.”
Atsumu glances at you through the mirror once more. “It’s really not that hard.”
“Wow, now I’m getting ganged up on?”
“You can’t not learn something just because you think it’ll be hard,” Atsumu says.
That is the last thing you want to hear from him. He refuses to finish ‘Breath of the Wild’ with you because he sucks at it and complains that it’s too complex.
What a sore loser.
“If it’s not a requirement, I’m not learning it,” you say stubbornly.
“One day you might end up having to reverse park. What are you going to do then?”
“Park somewhere else?”
“What if there’s no other place to park?”
You throw your hands up. Why is he on your ass over a hypothetical? “Then I wasn’t meant to be at whatever place I’m trying to park at!”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t-”
Atsumu abruptly stops talking as he swerves into the other lane.
Kiyoomi’s arm shoots out in front of you and he shoves you back, protecting the back of his neck with his other arm.
Your eyes shut immediately after Atsumu’s intake of air and you can feel the car still moving. But there’s something wrong with the way the tires are just sliding across the concrete.
Atsumu is frantically trying not to jerk the wheel while Bokuto screams. He’s screaming loud enough that you think the next car over can hear him. You hope they can hear him. At least, they’ll know that there were once alive passengers in this car.
“I think we’re going to die.”
Hinata sounds too calm for what he’s saying.
Kiyoomi’s arm is still holding you back and it’s what you choose to focus on. Just Kiyoomi and his arm and your breathing.
Oops, you’ve forgotten that last bit.
You need to breathe.
In and out. In and out.
Slowly, the car rights itself.
“Just a bit of hydroplaning,” Atsumu says after a few moments. His voice is strangled.
His knuckles are white with how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. He’s dropped the speed to well below the speed limit and is practically crawling down the road.
“Park on the shoulder,” Kiyoomi orders roughly.
Atsumu obliges, rolling to a stop.
Kiyoomi unbuckles and opens his door. He stands in front of the driver’s door, watching impassively as Atsumu shakily unbuckles and gets out.
He motions towards you to get out, which you do quietly. He slips into the car, shoving himself back into the middle seat and patting the seat next to him.
You slide in and buckle your seatbelt once more.
You cover his lax hand with yours, squeezing it gently without looking at him.
Bokuto has righted himself in the passenger seat, nervous rambling falling out of his mouth.
You can’t look at Kiyoomi.
There’s no music on the drive back.
Unsurprisingly, you guys make it back to your apartment unscathed.
Atsumu had shoved his head onto your shoulder, looking off into the road despondently. You merely brushed his bangs out of his face repeatedly, unable to find the words to comfort him.
All of you exit the car, Atsumu trying to hide behind you as if you could hide someone as tall as him.
Kiyoomi twirls his keys in his hand as he heads to the stairs. He doesn’t look at any of you.
You quicken your steps so you can be near Bokuto. He’s the only safe space here.
“Shit,” he whistles lowly, sharing a wide eyed look with you.
“Same time next week?” you joke weakly at Bokuto.
He leans down, lips brushing against your ear and looping an arm around your waist. “Maybe without the rest of them?” he offers quietly.
“Definitely,” you whisper back, unable to look at him this close.
He puffs a warm breath, not quite a laugh because of the tension but it still relaxes you. He squeezes your waist lightly. “I’ll pick you up,” he promises.
He squeezes you once more before jogging after Kiyoomi to pat at his back and exclaim about the near death experience.
You watch as he heckles Kiyoomi, a bright smile on his face despite the day all of you had.
Your heart feels full.
Atsumu hadn’t meant to give you this moment with Bokuto but you thank him internally nonetheless. If all goes well next week, you won’t make fun of him for this. Not too much anyway.
Hey baby 💓
I’d call it a waste of a Nat 20 but honestly it’s pretty on brand.
Amoré has never rolled less than a 17 to judge someone’s clothing, but where the fuck are those numbers when I’m trying to investigate bloodstained carpeting?
we don’t match around here
i identify with erik cause i'd too tease the shit out of wille for his little crush and also i wish a was dead
prompt: “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to...”
"Get a hot dog?"
Midge can't help a laugh. "Lenny."
"God, I could really fucking go for a hot dog."
"You're drunk," she chides him, her eyes dancing as she turns in bed and looks at him. "You went out with your buddies and got shit-faced and now-"
"I'm hungry," he tells her, his face pained. "And if I bang around the kitchen, I'll wake your parents and I don't wanna face your father when I'm this drunk, he'll make me play backgammon and I'll lose, and I'll never live it down."
Midge pulls a pillow over her head, laughing into it.
"I need a hot dog. Come with me to get a hot dog. You don't even have to get changed out of your nightgown, it'll be like the night we met. Except I'm the only one who gets to see your tits now."
Midge pulls the pillow from her face and looks at him in disbelief as he stares at her heatedly. "Which is it? Hungry or horny?"
He gives her an exaggerated shrug. "Both?"
She whaps him good with the pillow.