#(oh also espresso has his first promotion star now!)

[thebitchbehindtheslaughter]

OKAY SO UM

I NEVER POST COOKIE RUN STUFF ANYMORE BUT I WAS

I’M

I WAS DOING A FEW PULLS TO GET MILLAGE FOR ESPRESSO’S LAST FEW SOULSTONES AND

I’M

HELP

[badb1tchbokuto]

Alone, Together

Miya Atsumu x F! Reader

“Lame.” Typical.

“Self-righteous prick,” Okay that one hurt a little, but fine.

“Your game is weak.” Atsumu would like to think it wasn’t. It was just that he’d never really had to try. Whereas he focused all his efforts and love on the game of volleyball, he never really put in much effort on the dating game. Casual flings, short term relationships, one night stands - he was no stranger to all of this. He was attractive, successful, and had a steady career that allowed him to afford VIP tables in pretentious places like this. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be into that?

You apparently.

...In which Atsumu experiences his first existential crisis after you reject him at a club.

wc: 6k

tw: alcohol consumption, swearing, mild smut, slight angst, lots of fluff

(crossposted on Ao3)

Thursday, 10:00pm JST

Tokyo is alight and alive. The autumn sun is steadily dimming against a sea of ultramodern buildings and bright billboards that are beginning to light the city in incandescent neons. Crowds are meandering through the busy capital, with tourists slowly walking and stopping at every turn to take photos and gaze at their seemingly surreal surroundings, friends chatting vividly as they make their way to dinner, and employees ambling towards the crowded subway stations to line up and finally make their way home or just find some respite.

You, somehow, are a combination of all three.

Twenty four hours ago, you landed in Haneda from Charles de Gaulle. Jet lagged and bleary eyed, you stuttered your way through customs in your broken but passable Japanese, lost a suitcase that had most of your professional attire needed for the next day’s back to back meetings with investors, then had to be comforted by your driver as you explained the situation in distress all the way to your hotel in the business district of Minato.

You couldn’t help but feel unsettled and overwhelmed as it was after all, your first trip to Japan for professional matters. All your other times in the country had been spent with family, past lovers or on study abroad trips with best friends, but this time it was just you.

Adult you, in your first big girl work trip, in your dream field of fashion, in your dream city of Tokyo.

-

It has almost been twenty fours since you landed in the capital, and you’ve miraculously survived your first day. Barely. Admittedly you slept in a little too late after downing the entire complimentary bottle of Daiginjo from the hotel by yourself the night before, and this morning you spent over thirty minutes trying to transform your jet lagged mug with a “no make up make up” look only to end up still being asked by the sweet door people if you were heading to a special party. The upside is that the sake made you sleep like a baby, and smartly you paired your unexpectedly dramatic make-up with a killer outfit, resulting in you being recharged and sharp throughout the day, impressing your boss and potential investors alike.

Friday, 8:30pm JST

You had just emerged from your hotel to freshen up after a long day of work, now heading to dinner in Shibuya to meet with friends you’ve studied abroad with who were now living in Tokyo. Clad in a slinky Jacquemus silk dress and your favorite stilettos, you stand outside the grand entrance of the Tokyu Plaza, sending your girls a quick text to note that you got there a little earlier than expected, informing them that you’d be waiting at the restaurant’s rooftop bar instead.

The restaurant your friends chose was on the 17th floor of the building, a French fusion restaurant that turns into a nightclub after midnight and promises to have the best rooftop views of the Tokyo skyline. It seemed especially busy tonight, as there was already a line of young men and women eager to wait just to get into the club despite the area not opening hours from now.

Overhearing hushed snippets of conversations around you, it sounded like some celebrities were going to be there tonight. You brush it off, looking forward to having a moment to yourself to sip on an espresso martini, maybe even a few truffle sliders while waiting on your friends to arrive.

Busy thinking about whether you have time to eat one or three of the sliders before dinner, you absentmindedly made your way to the host at the front of the already buzzing line.

Halfway there, you feel a gentle but firm tap on your shoulder.

You turn, only to face a very toned and very broad chest dripping in two thin yellow gold snake chains layered over a printed silk button down, a piece from Gucci’s latest season. “Impressive.. ” you think to yourself as you lift your gaze as slowly and as nonchalantly as you can to see the man’s face, even though your eyes are probably already dilating in anticipation, because if the chest was already impressive and you were already having sinful thoughts about dragging your tongue on his chiseled pecs then moving down, well then...

“Yes?” You reply softly as your eyes roam upwards, starting with his strong jawline, to his warm, sugary brown gaze, up to his soft tousled blonde hair, and back down to his full lips, his canines and pink tongue slightly peeking out, adorned in a confident smirk that both turned you on and pissed you off.

“Fuck. I’d definitely let you ruin my life..or my pussy.” You couldn’t help but immediately think to yourself.

Without introducing himself, he slowly licks his lips, then cooly offers. “You headin’ up to Ce La Vi? My friends and I have a VIP table up there so you won’t have to wait until midnight to be let in. You can skip the line with me.”

“No thanks.” You curtly decline, irritated and offended that he assumed you needed his help to skip the line, let alone afford to enter the establishment for dinner.

You swerve past him, thinking that he’s another sleazy club promoter. Very attractive yes, but you’d like to think you were past making those types of mistakes at this age. Sexy guy leveraging his social status so that he can two pump chump you then ghost you until he needs pretty girls to fill up his club table? Hard pass.

Atsumu on the other hand, is confused.

That simple line never fails; it’s not aggressive but is still quite direct, and it wasn’t creepy. At least he didn’t think so. If anything, he thought he sounded nonchalant and cool.. Almost like Suna...right? Although he’d never let Suna know that he tries to emulate him when trying to pick up girls. Or that he thinks Suna is “nonchalant and cool.” God forbid he gets roasted on the group chat for yet another reason. Also, isn’t it always a great opportunity to skip the line at some overhyped dining club and get wined and dined by a handsome athlete like him? He’s never really had a problem using that line before, in fact his body count was proof of its success rate, so why did it not work on you?

You definitely seemed like you would be impressed by status and flash, considering you literally made his head turn because of your confident strides, wafting a luxuriously sexy scent. A melange of rose, vanilla, maybe the homemade marshmallows Samu makes in the winter... And definitely a tinge of the special perfume he was gifted by the Tom Ford team that he only reserves for special occasions. Something with tobacco and oud. Plus, he also definitely remembers shelling out 300,000¥ to buy the same Dior purse you had on for his ex-girlfriend last Christmas.

You saunter ahead of him, completely ignoring the screams and flash that followed. “Ah..So the celebrity has arrived.” You think to yourself. “They’ll probably be escorted to some special entrance anyway.”  

The doorman checks your name on the tablet and leads you to wait in front of an elevator. As you scroll through your phone, waiting for the elevators to take you up to the restaurant, you see him awkwardly standing behind you, rapidly typing away on his phone, very obviously trying to avoid your gaze.

Unlucky for both of you, you two were the only ones cleared by the front desk to go on the elevator.

The ride up to the 17th floor felt like an eternity, a palpable awkward silence marred by elevator music eerily like the Wii theme song dragged the seconds on.

Atsumu couldn’t wait to get out of the cramped space. He wanted so desperately to rush out and find Bokuto, Hinata, or honestly, he’d even practice his abysmal English with Adriah at this point just to get the hell away from you.

It wasn’t that Atsumu found you repulsive, quite the contrary actually. He found you so goddamned sexy, poised with a distinct self-assured stance that he only knew his former high school volleyball captain to have. You were magnetic, like an invisible force just happened to transfix Atsumu’s attention to you when he saw you standing at the plaza, leading him to follow you to the restaurant, thanking his lucky stars that he was also heading the same way since he most definitely kind of looked creepy staring at a lone woman in the middle of the street like that. 

The fact that you were immediately repelled by his kind suggestion to skip the line with him boggled him. Feeling claustrophobic in a roomy elevator decorated in mirrors that showed your reflection from all angles, he tries even more desperately to avoid looking at you, so he resorts to giving a play by play to his brother over text, only to get obliterated by Osamu.

“Lame.” Typical.

“Self-righteous prick,” Okay that one hurt a little, but fine.

“Your game is weak.” He’d like to think it wasn’t. It was just that he’d never really had to try. Whereas Atsumu focused all his efforts and love on the game of volleyball, he never really put in much effort on the dating game. Casual flings, short term relationships, one night stands - he was no stranger to all of this. He was attractive, successful, and had a steady career that allowed him to afford VIP tables in pretentious places like this. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be into that?

You apparently.

“Oh well, your loss.” He tries to reason with himself.

As soon as the doors open, Atsumu lets you pass like the gentleman he was raised to be. Okay, maybe he checks you out one last time, because damn that ass... and maybe he also tries to catch a whiff of your intoxicating perfume…  but no one had to know that.

He walks away to find his teammates inside the VIP dining area, wanting to just forget about you and move on with his night. You on the other hand, leisurely make your way to the open rooftop bar.

Shortly after, your friends Yuki and Kaori arrive, apologizing for their tardiness and promising a good time as they insist on going out clubbing with some of their friends from high school.

You hadn’t seen the sexy arrogant promoter or his “VIP” group throughout dinner. You forget about him or at least try to, happy to finally munch away on the anticipated dinner, reminisce about your wild college days and catch up with old friends.

Friday, 11:30pm JST

A couple of hours later, inhibitions loose from the free flow of alcohol offered at the restaurant mixed in with a bottle of champagne to celebrate your reunion, the three of you egg each other on to take shots at the bar before checking out the now bustling dance floor, surrounded by the VIP booths inside. Not a minute more after walking indoors do you hear a loud energetic voice holler, “YUKIPPE?!”

“Bokuto-san!!!” Yuki excitedly calls out, dragging you and Kaori over to greet a boisterous, incredibly buff man with two toned spiky hair. Behind him sitting on the plush rounded couches is a small group of young men who are all just as attractive and well-dressed, with an orange haired male capturing most of their attention, spinning an animated tale that had the table howling in raucous laughter.

The only one whose attention was away from the tanned male you heard is called Hinata is the promoter from downstairs, looking directly at you in shock.

“Oh fuck.”

Three buttons on his shirt were now unbuttoned, giving you a more intimate view of his chest. The same, broad, muscled chest you fantasized over earlier. His gaze is unrelenting, and you realize you had also been staring back at him when Kaori waves her hands in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Giiiiiirl? Hello?”

You revert your attention back to your group, acting as if you definitely weren’t just thinking about jumping on the blonde’s lap then and there, pulling him into a kiss, grinding on him as you unbutton his shirt and pants in a desperate, heated haze and then...

Kaori interrupts your thoughts with, “This is our friend from high school, Bokuto-san! His boyfriend Akaashi-kun will be joining us later.” Bokuto is beaming down at you with a megawatt smile and pulls you in a bear hug as you move to shake his hand.

Yuki introduces you as their friend from university that just moved to help launch a Japanese edition of a niche French fashion magazine. She adds, “Bokuto is the star ace of his volleyball team, and these are some of his teammates from the MSBY Black Jackals.”

At this, Bokuto bellows a “ HEY HEY HEY!” that garners the attention of his teammates and onlookers alike.

His teammates warmly welcome you and the girls to their table, as if you’re all old friends simply catching up. Comfortable, you engage Hinata and Meian in a lively conversation about your common experiences while traveling in Brazil. From your shared love of pao de queijo, debating where the best feijoada can be found in Rio, all the way to sharing the wild scenes you’ve all seen in Ipanema's legendary posto 8, banter flowing easily.

You were having a great time, happy to make new friends.

Atsumu had been stealthily watching you throughout the introductions. You acted as if it was the first time you’ve met him, then gracefully jumped into a discussion with his captain and newest teammate as if you were all best friends, when in fact for the last two weeks since Shoyo had joined the team, he’d nervously run to the bathroom every time Meian tried to talk to him for longer than five minutes. Now here he is, laughing with you and the captain about your shared culture shock in realizing how comfortable Brazilians were with skinship.

Atsumu met you less than three hours ago, but every little detail he picks up about you fascinates him more and more. There wasn’t a single thing about you that he didn’t like so far, leaving him intrigued, pining to get to know more. Except for one little big thing.. you flat out rejected him, so now he’s actively avoiding you out of respect for the boundaries you set initially.

Still, he was riveted. He wanted to get to know you one way or another, even if it was trying to casually listen in on your conversations with his teammates.

“What a creep.” Sakusa interrupts his thoughts, rolling his eyes at Atsumu.

Bokuto leans in and attempts to whisper in a hushed tone, in an octave that was definitely too loud to be a whisper, “She’s super cute Tsumtsum! Go for it!”

“Just talk to her, you’ve been staring at her the entire time. It’s starting to get weird.” Sakusa adds.

For arguably the first time in his adult life, Atsumu is insecure.

How does he approach you for the second time? He doesn’t even know what to talk to you about. Here you were, casually conversing about your world travels when he’d never even left Japan except for international matches. You, decked out in designer items he’d gifted different ex-girlfriends as apologies or appeasements for every time he prioritized volleyball over them. You, who were already chummy with his teammates even though it took him months to warm up to them. For fuck’s sake, sometimes his jokes still fall flat, but here you are cracking jokes and making even Omi chuckle. Who the hell are you? And how can Atsumu get to know you? Does he want to be like you or be inside you? How does he even get your attention without seeming like a desperate jerk? Why the fuck does he care what some random girl thinks of him?

He never really cared about what others thought of him outside of volleyball, but when he can’t rely on his one true love to speak for him, who is he and what does he have to offer?

Having an existential crisis at an ostentatious club at midnight was definitely not something Atsumu wanted to do. Yet here he is, feeling as dejected as the day he wore the Jackasuke costume and slipped in public for the whole world to see.

Swirling the melting ball of ice on his crystal glass filled with Yamazaki 18, he didn't notice that you had moved closer to him.

“They say whiskey is a depressant. Is that why you look so sad?” You joke, then gesture to his drink with a small smile.

Atsumu lifts his head to look at you, then freezes upon realizing your close proximity. He counters, “Really? What should I have for a good time then?”

“Me.” You cheekily reply and wink at him.

He grins at you, confidence steadily regaining at realizing that he might have a chance with you after all.

Saturday, 12:00am JST

Pouring a newly opened bottle of Ace of Spades on two champagne flutes laid out on the table, you make amends.

“Sorry for being so rude earlier. I get really defensive when I’m randomly approached by men, especially because I thought you were a promoter looking to get girls to join your table… I didn’t know I had mutual friends with some hotshot athlete.” You smile awkwardly.

He laughs and jokes back, but there is definitely some weight to his sentiment.

“Ah, but since Imma hotshot athlete, s’all good now right?”

You replace the whiskey glass in his hands with a champagne flute and shoot back. “Nah, I really thought you were trying to pimp me out to your flashy friends who bought tables from you, or worse, that you were just trying to get a quick fuck.”

Atsumu chokes on his own spit at your frank reply, and you giggle before lowering your voice so only he could hear.

You counter, “For the record, I would have been down for the latter, except you didn’t even introduce yourself. You should also know that I don’t ever need your help to get places.”

You smile innocently at him as if you didn’t just confirm that you were down to fuck if only he had played his cards right. His mind fogs, instantly imagining dragging you to the nearest bathroom to fuck you silly. He thinks about what it would feel like to sloppily kiss your full lips, moving his hands from your hair down to your neck and shoulders, feeling the curves of your body graciously skimming the silk fabric of your dress, only to unwrap you like a prized gift and worship you with his tongue.

You clear your throat, well aware that Atsumu’s most likely imagining fucking you given his glazed over eyes and parted lips.

With a blush, he tries to cover his reddening cheeks and neck by downing his drink. He bounces back with a, “Well then. The name’s Atsumu, 23 years old, professional volleyball player - the best damned setter the MSBY Black Jackals and the Japanese National Team has ever seen.”

Atsumu realizes then that he never really had to introduce himself. Not seriously anyway. Most people around him already knew who he was; his teammates, coaches, players within the league, aspiring volleyball players, fans of the game, fans of his.. even people around him who didn’t have interest in volleyball just generally knew of his reputation as one of Japan’s most talented athletes and eligible bachelors.

How does he tell you about himself without pulling out his phone to show you his current stats or videos of his top sets as proof that he really is as good as he says? Without looking like an ass? Even worse, what does he tell you about himself without volleyball being the main subject?

You smile, intrigued at how he suddenly seemed so sure of himself while talking about volleyball, emitting pride and passion as he describes his profession.

So you continue to ask him about the sport. Atsumu visibly relaxes, his love for the game evident as he discusses their most recent friendly match, the reason why their Osaka based team is in the capital just before some of them start training for the Olympics. The other boys jump in and out of the conversation, with Yuki and Kaori clarifying certain terms to you when they see you furrow your brows in confusion.

As the alcohol keeps flowing and the conversation moves to the upcoming Olympics, you and Atsumu have veered off the multiple group conversations and are transfixed on each other.

He asks you what you’re doing in Tokyo and how you ended up there, so you tell him you graduated from university recently, originally intending to become a Doctor but decided to pause and move to Paris upon graduation, wherein between random side hustles you somehow landed a job in editorial fashion. Thus landing you in Tokyo on an extended work trip.

Atsumu is bewildered at how you could switch careers so easily and still succeed, that you have multiple passions and follow them according to your whims.

He couldn’t imagine living a life like yours, volleyball being the only thing he’s actively pursued since realizing he had to make a living somehow. He wonders whether he chose volleyball as a career because it was the only thing he was good at and the only thing he could think of when his high school teacher asked him about his options for the future.

Deep down he knows that he loves the sport more than anything else, the driving force and principle behind his very essence. Still he can’t help but wonder, what if he chose do something else? What if he found a different passion to pursue? Would he have made a good doctor? Lawyer? Entrepreneur and chef like Samu? He shudders, lost for answers. He settles his raging thoughts by simply asking, “How could you switch careers so easily?”

You pause to think for a while, then casually respond.

“People are multi-faceted. I think there’s different versions to us as we navigate life. We fall in and out of love with different people, hobbies, places, food, aesthetics... There are just so many variables, so many moving parts as we get older.. Who’s to decide that we have to be tied to the same job or pursue the same passion for the rest of our lives?”

This confuses him even more, and he decides that despite you having the same self-assured aura that Kita-san has, you’re the complete opposite of him, different from everyone around him actually. Him, his brother, his friends, his exes, all of whom either have a clear direction or some semblance of goals and dreams for the future.

You on the other hand, are all risk. You boldly trek into the unknown, unafraid and ready to face the variables and twist them so that they fall to your favor. Atsumu supposes that in this way, he relates to you.

He replies, “Huh. Weird but I guess I kinda get it. It’s like when I’m on court observing opponents. I have to sniff out and adapt to whatever bullshit they’re on, tweak our plays and my settin’ style to make sure we crush them. Sorta like a gamble.”

“Exactly.” You confirm.

“Eh..but nothing feels better than winnin’. How do you even know if you’re winning when you don’t have set objectives?” Atsumu counters.

You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“I do! My objectives are just adjusted to my current surroundings. I’d say pondering over the inherent philosophical value of career choices in a rooftop bar in Tokyo with a sexy volleyball setter is winning.”

“Touché.”

He grins, aiming to pour more champagne to your flutes before realizing that you two polished off the bottle of Ace on the table and that your friends were all in various states of inebriation.

Yuki dancing with her boyfriend, Kaori grinding on Adriah, Bokuto and Hinata on the dance floor twerking on the older MSBY members to Reggaeton, Sakusa and Akaashi watching all of this in amused horror.

“Wanna dance?” Atsumu asks.

After topping your glasses with overpriced bottle service liquor, you move towards the dance floor at the center of the club, joining your friends.

You’re shocked at how well Atsumu can dance, easily gripping your hips and moving with you as you gyrate against him to 90s hip hop jams. Hinata finds you both and proceeds to dance on you, laughing as you twirl him and sandwich him between you and Atsumu.

After a couple more songs, you, Bokuto, and the girls end up dancing on top of a random table screaming the lyrics to the newest Megan Thee Stallion song.

Yuki somehow proceeds to wrangle you all back to your table to take shot after shot, fueling the night to go on.

Saturday, 3:00am JST

Your group stumbles out of the rooftop bar, with the married MSBY members calling it a night. Bokuto on the other hand, is already ordering an Uber Lux to take you all from Shibuya to an even more upscale club in Minato, on the other end of Tokyo for a good nightcap.

Atsumu holds your hand as you enter the club, the most he’s gotten to touch you since dancing with you earlier.

Your group downs more bottles of champagne and vodka, all dancing on each other at your table.

Emboldened by the alcohol in your system, you pop your ass a little more against Atsumu’s crotch, swaying more seductively to a random top forty hit. Feeling him hardening against his fitted trousers, you turn to face him, skimming your fingers on his chains and chest as you continue to dance. In turn he runs his hands up and down your sides, moving more liberally to each drop of the beat, grazing up the underside of your breasts and back down to cup the curve of your ass. His hands feel warm on your body, steadily stoking a growing fire in you.

You gaze up at Atsumu, tilting your head to lightly graze your lips against his neck, trailing upwards towards his ear, effectively sending shivers down his spine. You whisper, “Would you consider this winning, hotshot?” licking the shell of his ear, resulting in Atsumu groaning lowly as you move your head to look back at him.

With hazy eyes, Atsumu looks at you, then whispers, “Winning would be when I’ve made you come with my mouth so many times you’re beggin’ me to fuck you.. but until then pretty girl, this is pretty close.”

You pussy throbs as his lips brush against your skin with every whisper, but before you can even respond, Atsumu kisses you.

His soft lips press on yours, capturing your lower lip in a soft bite that elicits pleasure that starts in your belly then moves down south. His hands continue to move up and down your sides, now more possessive in grabbing your ass to bring you closer to him.

You teasingly lick his parted lips, prompting Atsumu to dance his tongue against yours.

Lost in open mouthed kisses that have you both desperately groping each other’s clothed bodies on the dance floor, you feel Atsumu brush his knuckle over your breasts, motions languid and repeating as your nipples arouse and become visible through your silk dress.

Your entire body is overheating. You moan against his mouth.

He whispers, “Wanna take this somewhere more private?” You nod immediately, then rush to tell your friends you’d catch up with them over brunch tomorrow.

Atsumu is waiting by the exit, but as soon as he sees you, he is so turned on he can’t help but sear you into another heated kiss, leaving you both weak and wanting.

Saturday, 4:30am JST

Miraculously, the nearest Uber is 25 minutes away and the cabs are far and few. Atsumu starts to dial a private car service, but then notices you wandering down the street.

“Oi!! Where you goin’?” He calls out.

You pout. “I’m hungry.”

Atsumu offers to order you room service at his hotel but you decline, taking his calloused but surprisingly moisturized hand as you skip down a tiny alley way towards a conbini.

Inside, you fill your basket to the brim with an assortment of junk food. Chips, instant ramen, sandwiches, daifuku mochi, fried chicken poppers, and every other snack you find with cute packaging before finally leading you to the end of an aisle, choosing between which types of onigiri to purchase.

Atsumu goes along with you, advising you which brands to get, which to avoid, even putting his favorites in the basket. Although he knows his trainer will punish him with brutal training sessions if he sees the shit he’s about to put on his body, he thinks it’s all worth it. He knows he’ll feel guilty come morning, spending hours at the gym to burn it all off, but right now he couldn’t care less. Not after seeing you starry eyed at how many options of onigiri there are, and how absolutely adorable you look when asking him about which snacks he thinks could fit in your purse to save for later.

Trying to impress you, Atsumu comments. “Y’know, I make a mean tuna onigiri.”

No he doesn’t. His brother does, but you don’t know that. Not yet at least.

“Oh yeah? Want to make me some one of these days?” You respond.

Securing a date with you before the night even ends? Hell yeah.

Atsumu thanks his lucky stars, confidently confirming. “Sure, how does tomorrow evening sound?”

“Baby, our night hasn’t even ended and you’re booking me for tomorrow already. Are you trying to cuff me?”

“Yes. Then wife you.” But Atsumu holds his tongue for once.

Instead he winks at you, responding with a casual “Only if you want me to” with a wide, cheeky, canine bearing smile.

Laughing, you roll your eyes at him as he swoops in to carry your basket and insists on paying for your drunken munchies haul.

Saturday, 5:15am JST

Somehow you and Atsumu end up sitting on a park bench, sharing the food he bought from the conbini. Like two excitable school children on a field trip, you trade half bitten snacks with each other while talking about everything and nothing in between.

He tells you about his twin brother Osamu, who he insists is definitely uglier and the bummy version of him; how they did everything together up until Samu decided to open up his own restaurant and stay in their hometown of Hyogo instead of playing professional volleyball like him.

Atsumu tells you all about their childhood, from catching bugs to keep as pets and sneaking them to their room only to hear their ma screaming about it in the middle of the night, to how he always took from Samu’s secret snack stash, always denied doing so when confronted, but always paid him back with interest by secretly dropping a chunk of his monthly allowance on Samu’s piggy bank. The same one that Samu would later break open to help fund the opening of his restaurant. All the petty fights that turned into brawls, only to act like nothing happened despite being covered in scratches as soon as their tired mom walked through the door after a long day of work. He talks about his twin in such an easygoing manner, love overflowing in his voice and reminiscent of when he was speaking about volleyball, but this time there’s a twinge of wistfulness and melancholy to his tone.

“You miss him.” You softly conclude.

“That idiot? Nah.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you for blackmail.” You tease.

Atsumu concedes. “Okay maybe a little.”

Loose lipped from the alcohol still flowing in his veins, he continues.

“Samu and I have always been together. Startin’ at the womb for fuck’s sake, fightin’ each other over stupid shit, getting our asses kicked by our ma, sharin’ a room, spewing random thoughts to each other only the two of us would understand, goin’ to the same school, on the same volleyball teams, with the same friends, or rather him havin’ friends that ended up adoptin’ me to their group.”

He chuckles. “I think I took it all for granted, havin’ someone there always with me.. Even if he always got on my ass for the littlest things and it used to always piss me off. Deep down I knew he was always just lookin’ out for me, just didn’t know how ta’ show it. I mean, I didn’t either.”

He laughs because he knows he still doesn’t know how. “It’s almost been four years since I moved away from home and...”

He doesn’t finish the sentiment, but he doesn’t have to.

Atsumu is alone, and although he loves to brag to Osamu and their friends about the freedom having his own space brings, he knows he’s also so fucking lonely.

You finish his thought for him by empathizing. “I get it. I mean, kind of. I don’t have a twin so I can only imagine, but I’ve been living on my own for quite some time now, in between countries with parents who don’t support my career change and friends always in different places than where I am. It’s isolating. But hey, that’s why we put ourselves out there right? Why you acted like a sleazy promoter in front of the club and why I acted like a stone cold bitch earlier only to come at you? Our lame attempts at easing loneliness in hopes that one day, someone might finally understand... or just be there to try.”

You chuckle half-heartedly, nudging his shoulders to try and ease the somber tension.

He turns to look at you, smiling up at him, listening and just trying to understand. He can’t help himself. He pulls you into a sweet kiss that tastes of strawberry daifuku and expensive champagne.

Atsumu knows that you’ll never understand what it’s like to have a twin, to live a life away from them, to suddenly pursue a passion you thought was shared only to have to do it all on your own.. He thinks it’s amazing that you’re even listening to him rant about his nostalgia, even when he knows his thoughts seem incoherent, even when he currently doesn’t even know how to define himself.

In a dimly lit park in Azabu, you and Atsumu find solace in each other’s solitude.

He doesn’t know how he managed to basically word vomit to a stranger issues he finds too embarrassing to even mention to his brother, yet here he is. He doesn’t even know why barely two hours ago you were feeling each other up at a club, about to go back to his hotel room and drunkenly fuck, but now here you were at a park in the middle of a ritzy neighborhood in Tokyo, sharing snacks, stories and innocent kisses.

Talking to you, kissing you, hell even drunkenly shopping for food with you felt like second nature to him, as if you had been with him all along and this was just part of you two’s routine. Atsumu doesn’t know why though, since you couldn’t be more different from him.

You, who finds sparks of interest then bravely torches it aflame, letting it change your life as you go along. Then there’s him, lucky to have found his passion early on, pursuing it steadfastly since then, letting it consume and define him.

Perhaps it was the fact that you found each other incredibly attractive and you both were just looking for some sort of release, sexual or not.

Or honestly, maybe it’s the shared loneliness of being newly minted adults, trying to navigate life on your own without the familiar crutches only youth affords.

Whatever it is, Atsumu finds himself even more drawn to you.

“Being alone, if it’s together with you, isn’t so bad after all,” he thinks.

He watches you as you look up to observe the night sky rapidly fading to make room for the soft pastels of dawn, a soft smile painting your pretty lips. He doesn’t realize he mirrors your smile as soon as he sees it.

At 23, Atsumu doesn’t know the answers to a lot of things. He knows now that you don’t either, but he definitely knows then that he wants you to be there with him as you both figure it all out.

Saturday, 3:45pm JST

“I need a favor Samu. I need to make dinner to pair with onigiri. Oh wait, actually I also need to make onigiri. Tuna scallion.”

“You? Cookin? What?”

“It’s for this girl...”

“A girl agreed to let you cook for her? Is she sane? Conscious? Did you force her?”

“Fuck off!”

“Bet.”

Osamu hangs up.

Atsumu panics and calls him back immediately.

“Fuck I’m sorry!! I’m sorry! I… mighthavetoldherIcookwelltoimpressher.”

“Ah so you’re posin’ as me. I knew I was the superior twin.”

“You wish!! But please... I really like her. It’s the girl from yesterday.”

In all 23 years of being Atsumu’s brother, Osamu had never heard of Atsumu wanting to impress a girl by actually doing something for her. Buying them all the shit they could want, taking them out to eat wherever they want, sure. But actively taking time out of his day, time that could’ve been spent training, to do something for someone else, not even sure if the end result might pay off?

This was new.

Knowing Tsumu’s lack of patience and short attention span, the food will be barely edible. He knows Tsumu expects this to happen already; so he’s intrigued that his brother really insists on trying.

He’s always known Atsumu to be a gambler on court. Off court, he takes the safe routes. So for him to suddenly take a gamble like this, you must have been pretty damn special.

“Alright, scrub. I’ll send you the ingredients list. Facetime me when you’re back in the kitchen.”

- - -

- - -

Notes: The places noted in the story are based on real locations in Tokyo. See below if you’d like to imagine more vividly where you and Atsumu’s adventures took place. :)

Locations used:

1. Rooftop bar/restaurant - Ce la Vi, Shibuya

2. 3am club - 1Oak, Minato

3. Conbini - Lawson's (any one of them in Azabu)

4. Park - Mamiana Park, Azabu

[fics-for-my-heart]

The PA

Summary: Marvel wants Tom to have a “handler” for interviews, but what happens when Tom and Harrison both crush hard?

Word Count: 5009

Warning: Swearing and some poorly written smut. (there will be a warning)

A/N: So i sent this ask to @madmadmilk and then COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. It’s been a long time since I’ve written smut so it’s not the best but ehh lol and I’m the only one who edits this so if there’s any mistakes I missed I apologize. Hope you enjoy. 

Masterlist

 “Wait, run this by me once more.” Tom was a bit confused so he wanted to make sure what he was understanding.

 Matt nodded. “Okay so, we would like to hire you another PA, someone who can catch you from accidentally giving too much away during interviews. Harrison can stay on as your actual PA, this person would be more of a handler I guess. But their main job will be making sure you keep things under wraps.”

 Tom dragged a sleepy hand over his face, it had been a long day and all he wanted to do was lay down. He knew after his most recent slip up on the suppose to be secret second villain in FFH, that Marvel would do something. That’s how him and Harrison ended up in the conference room with his team and a message from Marvels. “So kinda like a babysitter?”

 “Not entirely. The thought is that you will each have an earpiece and if a question could lead to a spoiler, they just feed you either a vague answer or a way to change the subject.” Matt looked over the paper he had, a contract ready for if Tom agreed. “Look man, we understand that it’s not something you’re doing on purpose. This shit is big, and it can be hard not to share it. But Marvel has put their foot down, even Mark is getting someone. You only have to see them at interviews and promos, and you and Harrison can choose who it is. It’s either this or Marvel takes you off promo and I really don’t want that. They want as much of A4 to be kept secret as possible.”

 Tom glanced at Harrison, who hadn’t said much since the meeting started. His lips tugged down a little, and his eyebrows raised as he shrugged. “I mean, as long as I’m not out of a job I don’t mind.”

 “Alright. Okay. I guess it does make sense. This movie is bigger than the last, so I get it.”

 “Awesome. Awesome. Okay, so would you be up to interviewing potentials tomorrow? If not we can postpone it.” Matt didn’t even try to hide his relief. But Tom understood it was important for both of them for him to agree to this.

 “I wanna sleep till noon, so later in the day would be good.”

 “Perfect.” And with that, the meeting was over and Tom and Harrison practically booked it home.

—

 In what felt like only a few hours, they were back in that conference room, this time Matt was on the same side. He had picked five potential people to interview, and five more set aside as back up. The first two seemed like strong candidates, but one was a college fratter who wanted to use it to get chicks, and the other was a girl who slipped up and said she was only doing this to get avengers spoilers for herself.

 “Matt, man, you gotta vet these people better.” Tom joked as Matt’s head hung low.

 “They seemed fine on paper. I guess you can’t judge a person's intent by their resume. Hopefully the pattern breaks because I think this girl might be the one. She’s got a BA in Public Relations and came highly reconnected by Roberts people.” He presses the button on the intercom. “Send in Ms. Y/L/N please.”

 There was a soft tap on the door, and the moment you walked in, Tom and Harrison’s jaws dropped. Maybe it was the way your Y/EC made eye contact with them both, or how your Y/HC was tight from your face showing off your features, or how you nervously worked your lip between your teeth, but both boys were instantly smitten.

 “Uh, good afternoon.” You stick a hand out to Matt first, then Tom and Harrison. “I’m Y/N Y/LN.” The boys both shook your hand, surprised by how soft your hands were but how firm your shake was.

 “It’s lovely to have you here.” Tom spoke up. “Really we just have a few questions for you.” Matt glanced over at Tom, not entirely surprised he was taking control of the interview with a pretty girl. You nodded, nervous at how absolutely breathtaking Tom AND Harrison were in person and hoping that it wasn’t written all over your face. Tom slipped the paper from Matt, reading over the first question. “What’s your background in public relations?”

 Simple enough. “I started out small, helping at different companies, then eventually found my way to the helping bigger names. I’ve worked a bit with stars from Sherlock Holmes, Ladybird, and Coco. Mostly I worked with planning questions and making sure everyone got where they needed to go.”

 Tom and Harrison both nodded along as you spoke, Harrison glanced at the paper and asked the next question. “What made you interested in this particular job opening?” His blue eyes locked on yours, his interest in you was all over his face.

 “I want to broaden my experience, also, I want to work with actors a bit closer to my age for a while.”

 “How old are you?” Tom asked without thinking.

 “Just turned 23 a month ago.”

 Tom was going off script now, but like his best mate, he was also very interested in you. “What hours would you be willing to work?”

 The question took you by surprise. You were under the impression that you would only be needed for interviews and other promotional events. “Oh, I can be on call whenever needed.”

 Tom looked at Harrison, it seemed like they and an entire conversation without speaking, after a bit they nodded. Tom leaned over to Matt, whispering to him. Suddenly your nerves skyrocketed. You hands started to get clammy, your body felt like you had one too many shots of espresso. Everything seemed to be going good, but your mind started racing thinking the worst. But then, Tom looked over at you and smiled.

 “You’re hired.”

                                          *five months later*

 “Thomas Stanley Holland! You have 10 minutes before we are going to be LATE!” You yelled from the bottom of the stairs. The day was jam packed with interviews and promotional stuff for Avengers and the three of you should have been out the door twenty minutes ago.  “Harrison! Get your friends ass in gear!” You stomped back into the kitchen, refilling your coffee and listening to the sound of feet running down the steps.

 “What’s the rush, love?” Tom smirked, knowing exactly how stressed you get when you guys are late. You pointed a finger at him, shaking your head. “Aw thanks.” He said, taking the coffee from your hand and taking a drink.

 “Uh, excuse you. No. Either get your own or have someone,” you look at Harrison, “get you some coffee.” You turned on your toes facing both boys fully. “But, your slow ass took too long so you’ll have to wait till we get to the interviews. Now. Lets. Go.”

   Thirty minutes later, your coffee was empty (thanks to Tom), and the three of you were practically running to the room where the interviews were going to be held. Digging in your bag, you pulled out the earpiece you and Tom had to wear, handing him his and pushing him to the chair.

 “So sorry I’m late, mate. Traffic was horrid.” Tom lied as he shook hands with the interviewer.

 “No worries man. We were a bit late ourselves. Let’s get started.”

 A few hours later, the three of you were sat in a nook in one of the rooms eating a quick lunch.

 “Y/N.” Tom wined, laying his head on your shoulder. Soon after you started you realized just how cuddly both boy could get, Tom was worse on long days like this. “How many more?”

 You opened your phone, scrolling through the email from the team with the schedule. “Uh, Robert will be here soon to do three interviews with you. Then you get an hour and a half break and will join Pratt and Karen for two interviews. Theeeeen you’re with Benedict for the last two.” You felt Tom’s breath fan your face as he sighed. “I know, I know. I’ve got pizzas scheduled to be at the house when we return.”

 “Also, mate, I picked up some beer when we went to the store.” He poked each of you with a foot under the table.

 Tom returned the poke to Harrison, and kissed your cheek. “You guys are the best.”

 There was a knock on the wall before you could respond, secretly thankful because of the butterflies that had appeared in your stomach. It was Robert, leaning there watching with a soft smile on his face. “Hey there kiddos, ready?” 

 Surprisingly, you didn’t have to correct him much throughout the day. Mostly just a well timed cough or throat clearing was enough for him to understand and flip the questions. By the time everything was finished it was well after 9:30 and you had to push the pizza back so it didn't get to the house before you.

 “Carry me daring.” Tom went limp against you, causing you to lose your balance. Before you could hit the ground, a strong arm was around your waist holding you up.

 “Tom you div. Are you trying to kill the only person who keeps our shit in line?” Harrison tightened his grip a little, turning to look at you. “You okay?

 “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get you boys home though. It’s been a long day.”

 Tom fell asleep on the way home, resulting in some Instagram stores he was bound to kill you guys for. By the time you go to the boys shared house, it was obvious that you and Haz were equally as sleepy. Silently, the three of you some pizza, and after your fair share, you decided it was time for you to go home.

 “No, it’s late and your tired. It’s not safe for you to drive.” Tom reached for your hand, his cold from his second beer he had been holding.

 Harrison joined in on the fight to get you to stay. “Right. You can sleep in the guest room as always.”

 “Boys. I want to sleep in my own bed, at my own house.” You rolled your neck. After relaxing a little the exhaustion from the day was making your body feel slow.

 Harrison walked behind you, his strong hands rubbing your shoulders right where the tension was causing you to close your eyes and groan. “Y/N. Just stay.”

 “Alright, but I want another beer.” You could hear Tom pop the top and stuck your hand out waiting.

 “Here you are. Have as many as you’d like. Let loose.”

 You took a sip, Harrison’s hands felt like heaven working out the knots. “There isn’t any events for a few more days, so what the hell.” Then you downed the beer.

——

 “Wait, wait. You actually went streaking through your college campus?” Harrison was giggling, trying to picture you running down the road stark naked. The three of you had finished off about three beers each, enough for the buzz to mix smoothly with the sleepy feeling. You were all sitting on the floor still snacking on the pizzas, the conversation somehow going to embarrassing stories.  

 “Yes. I lost a bet, I had to!” You covered your face with your hands.

 “It’s okay, Harrison here had to run past the office of one of our lead teachers naked as a dare.” Tom laughed. “His face was so red when he came back and Mr. F had been home.”

 “Oii shut it!” Haz hit Tom with a pillow.

 You giggled a bit, rubbing your eyes. “Alright. ‘m sleepy. I think I’m going to go to bed.” You went to stand, but the alcohol mixed with hardly being able to keep your eyes opened knocked you right back on your butt. “Oof.”

 “Here, we’ll help.” Tom stood, followed by Haz. Both boys helped you up with ease, leading you to the guest room you had stayed in many nights before.

 You were well past the point of being awake enough to control your mouth, which resulted in a slightly awkward confession to slip. “Would you boys like to know a secret?” You asked when they sat you on the bed.

 “Go for it.” Tom answered, looking at the other with a smirk at just how tired you were.

 “You both are hot. Like, ooo mama, really fucking hot.” You moved yourself to the pillow, completely unaware of the shocked faces staring at you. “Hmmm. Goodnight boys.”

 “Did that just happen?” Harrison whispered when they were out in the hall.

 Tom nodded, closing your door as quietly as he could. “I mean, we can’t really say much, we have both had the hots for her since we saw her.” Harrison nodded and shrugged waving a good night as the boys separated to their own rooms.

 The next morning you woke up with a slight hangover and couldn’t remember if you had fallen asleep in the bed or if the boys brought you up here. The smell of pancakes filled the air and you reluctantly left the warmth.

 “Good morning princess.” Tom greeted from behind an extended coffee mug. Harrison was making breakfast and greeted you with a smile.

 “Uhm I’m not so sure about that. Did I fall asleep on the couch?” You took a long sip of the coffee, waiting for an answer. Tom and Harrison just shared a look.

 “You don’t remember us walking you to your room?” Tom asked with a raised eyebrow. A small smirk played at his lips.

 “No.” You looked between the two boys. “Oh no. Did I do something embarrassing?”

 “Depends on your definition of embarrassing, love.” Harrison’s voice was close, and you jumped as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of you. “If telling us we are hot ‘like oooo mama so fucking hot’ hot, is embarrassing. Then yes. Yes you did.”

 You groan. Face instantly heating as you covered it with both your hands. “Please forget that. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen okay. Oh my god. I should go.” You went to stand but before you could get anywhere both boys were at your side.

 Harrison started talking first. “Hey. It’s fine. I mean we know we’re hot. But.”

 “We think you’re pretty hot too.” Tom finished. They both leaned in, each kissing a cheek causing you to yip in surprise. “We’re going to the gym. Enjoy breakfast.” They each pecked a cheek again, then walked away collecting their gym bags and leaving.

 You were too embarrassed to eat. You sat there trying to collect yourself for a few minutes before gathering your things and going home. Admittedly, but only to yourself, you had a crush both Tom and Haz. You didn’t think you would ever tell them though, but your tired half drunk mind clearly had different plans. Their reactions were what took you off guard, them saying they thought you were hot too, and kissing you? Were they just picking on you? Or was it serious?

 Either way, you avoided them for a few days, which was a little weird because you normally saw them almost every day. They had texted and called you, but every time their names popped up you would remember that happened and not respond. When it came time for the next round of promo, you met them at the venue instead of picking them up.

 “Long time no see.” Tom smiled as he wrapped an arm around you. “Where you been?” The circles under his eyes were darker than normal.

 “Just out and about doing work.” You shrugged, pulling your compact out and trying to cover his under eyes.

 He smiled weakly. “We missed you around the house. Haz is good company but it’s a bit lonesome without your laugh there.”

 “Tom.” You groan, closing your eyes for a moment. “Please stop poking fun at me. I didn’t mean to say it.”

 “I’m not poking, love.” He reached in your bag, kissing your forehead along the way, and grabbed the ear piece. Before you could respond he was walking toward the room and you could only follow.

 The first interview went well, the first two would only be Tom so you had to be extra aware of the questions, the rest were with a few of the cast members, and they always help keep him in line. Harrison stayed near the back, his eyes watching you as you paid close attention and followed along with the list of questions you had been given. He moved closer when the second interview started. Standing elbow to elbow with you.

  (A/N: this part is inspired by @madmadmilk response to my message about this idea. It’s mostly smut from here down)

  “Ya know, he’s been a bit of a mess since you haven’t spoken to us.” His voice was soft so no one could hear. “He’s had a tough time sleeping, and won’t stop worrying about you.” You gawked at him, mouth open as he locked eyes with you. A wildly inappropriate thought (and not for the first time) ran through his head. “What? It’s true. He thought everything was fucked up. That you were going to quit.”

 “I mean, I fucked up.” You replied, hand over the earpiece to block your voice from Tom. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. But I won’t quit unless you guys want me to.”

 Harrison took a step forward. His icy blue eyes filled with unreadable emotion. “No. We are happy you said it. It put an end to our wondering.”

 What? Your brows scrunched together as you tried to process what he said. “What ‘wondering’?”

 Still he stepped closer, his breath warm on your face. “Oh, Y/N. We have both had massive crushes on you since you walked through the door at the interview.” He reached a hand up and pushed a piece of hair out of your face. “Follow me.” Your mouth opened to object, but Harrison placed a finger over his lips and grabbed your hand. You followed him to a dark corner. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. “Want to know how serious we are about you?” His voice was suddenly rough in your ear and all you could do was nod. “Alright, then be quiet.” He added with a nip at your ear.

 With one hand he turned you around to face the room. Thankfully there were only four people, counting Tom, in the area you had just left and there was a curtain blocking the area a bit. Before you could question what was happening, one of Harrison’s hands was under your shirt gripping your waist and the other was moving your hair off your neck. “Y/N. You truly are so beautiful.” And with that he pressed his lips on your neck, working up and down the sensitivity skin. Your knees buckled at the feeling, having gone an embarrassingly long time without this sort of contact. Not to mention maybe a few dream similar to this.

 “Ya know. When we left that interview with you, Tom and I went home and almost fought over who would get to take you out first.” His hand under your shirt roamed your torso, slowly rubbing over the fabric of your bra, then back down to dip just a little under the waistband of your pants. Your entire body was alive, every movement of his hand, and every syllable or kiss from his lips sent a new wave of shivers over your body. Suddenly Harrison stopped all movement, his head coming around to view. “You alright there, love? If you want me to st-”

 “Don’t.”

 It was like that word opened up the floodgates. His lips were on your neck again with a new kind of passion. Both hands started roaming your body. “You wanna know what we agreed on?” He held you against him with one hand flat on your belly, the other slowly slid under your pants and panties. All you could do was nod. His hand was extremely close to the place you so desperately needed it and you didn’t trust your voice. As his fingers finally made contact with your clit, he whispered in your ear. “We decided to share.”

 You were a goner. The feeling of Harrison’s fingers slipping in and out of you, changing the pressure he put on your clit, plus the confession and his lips working your neck. You didn’t even think you were still there. It was almost too much, but not enough. You were close, it had been so long since someone had touched you this way that you couldn’t take much more.

 “It’s so funny,” Harrison’s scratchy whisper was back at your ear, hands still working you closer and closer. “We have been trying for months to find out if you liked even one of us.” He curled his fingers in you, causing you to bite your lip to muffle a moan in the quiet room. “I think about you a lot, and I know Tom does too, I’ve heard him.” Your eyes flutter closed, but Harrison slows down. “Do you want me to stop princess?”

 “No, no, don’t stop.” You moved your hips against him. Just as you said it, the voice in your ear snaps you back.

 “Uh, yeah well we actually come back because of Captain Marvel, she's really badass and was able to kill-“

 Shit! You grabbed Harrison’s wrist, pulling it away, adjusted yourself quickly, and before Tom could say anymore you shouted “NO! Sorry! Shit. The earpiece is malfunctioning. Uh, you guys are going to have to delete all that.”/

 Toms confused face quickly changed to shock when he looked back to where you had come from. Making eye contact with his best friend as he licked his fingers and winked. Toms eyes darted from Harrison back to you, watching you personally watch them delete that segment of video, then back to Harrison.

 Once the video was set, and the paper stating that it was deleted was signed, the interview continued. Tom on the other hand, was incredibly distracted by all the thought of what was going on that had you distracted. Harrison made his way back to your side, offering you a cup of coffee and a smirk. “Meet me in the bathroom when the next interview starts.”

 The next interview started almost immediately, Sebastian Stan and Tom Hiddleston were seated the moment the interviewed switched. This meant Tom didn’t have a chance to talk to you. You on the other hand, were still reeling in a mix of energy from the ghost feeling of Harrison’s hands, to the thought of losing your job because of the slip up. A few minutes after the interview began, you slipped out of the room. You trusted Hiddleston and Seb enough with Tom that you didn’t worry much about leaving.

 You booked it to the bathroom. Ready to give Harrison a piece of your mind about that dangerous little stunt. But the moment you opened the door, Harrison had you pinned to it and his lips were on yours. “Harrison.” You grunt, hitting his shoulders. His hips rolled into you, stopping any word from forming as you felt just how needy he was.

 “I’ve wanted this for so long.” He kissed down your neck, then back to your lips. “So long. Y/N.” You moaned at how he practically whined your name, helping you found your voice, and your confidence.

 “What do you want, Hazzy.” Your hand moved to palm him over his pants and he actually whimpered.

 “Want to be inside you.” He practically moaned as you worked him still.

 Little to either of your knowledge, lost in your own world, Tom could hear everything. His face grew warm, and his pants grew tight. It was almost impossible for him to focus on the questions.

 Slowly, you unbuttoned Harrison’s pants, pushing them and his boxers to the floor and wrapping your hand around him. This time his knees buckled and he went flat against you. “Oh. Oh my god.” His hips buckled into your hand. “Y/N. Stop. Stop. I want to feel you.” He pushes himself up with a hand on either side of your head as you removed your hand. You reached forward, kissing him again as he removed your pants and set you on the edge of the counter.

 “Mmm.” He hummed, running a finger through your folds once more. “Still so wet for me.” (Tom almost choked.) He reached into his pants pulling a condom from his wallet and slipping it on. “I’m going to be honest. I don’t know how long I will last.” He stepped eye to eye with you.

 “Just fuck me Harrison.” You were well past feeling uneasy about this, you just needed some relief. Harrison stepped closer, catching your lips with his as he rubbed the head of his cock in your wetness before slowly pushing in. You both moaned into each other’s mouths as he slowly bottomed out giveing you a chance to adjust. “Move. Please move.” And he did. Slow still at first, but picking up as you moaned more.

 Tom was on the verge of almost dying. Hearing absolutely everything this time. He had long forgotten the interview questions, allowing Hiddleston and Seb to answer them. He was just about to lose it when you remembered the ear piece.

 “Oh, Tom. Yes.” You moaned, giggling a little at Harrison’s reaction before you pointed to your ear. Harrison’s thrusted harder, earning another moan from you “Toooom. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry guys. I’m not feeling well.” Tom interpreted the question.

 “Yeah, you don’t look very well either. You want some help to the bathroom?” Seb asked, looking very concerned at the pale sweaty boy beside him.

 “Fuck, Harrison. Yes.”

 “No. Thanks though I think I can make it. Again I’m so sorry.” Is apologized again as he ran out the door. “Y/N. Where the fuck are you?” Tom’s voice spilled through your ear, dripping with as much need as Harrison’s was moment earlier.

 “Ahh. The bathroom in the. Oh. Very back.” You answered between moans.

 Within moments Tom’s voice was heard in your ear and behind the door. “Let me in.”

 The moment Harrison unlocked the door, Tom was inside with it locked again. He couldn’t move, the image of you on the counter. His best mate still fucking you, and the threat to cream his pants at the sight kept him from moving.

 “Do you boys think we can make it home? Or should we just finished here.” Your chin was resting on Harrison’s shoulder, eyes locked with Tom, slight moans still leaving your lips at the slower pace Haz was now going.

 “I’m too close love.” Harrison sped up again and you moaned loud. Tom’s hand had found its way into his pants. Still unable to look away from the two of you.

 “Oh. Tommy, come her-ah-re.” You motioned for him with a finger. He found his feet, stepping the short distance beside you. “Kiss me.” As your lips met, your hand went down to take over pumping him slowly, earning a deep moan.

 Harrison lost it. Watching your hand around Tom while he was inside you was too much. “Y/N. Shit shit. I’m going to cum.” You moved a bit giving him a different feeling of pleasure as you moved to kiss him. “Cum for me Hazzy.”

 “Oh, fuuuuuck.” He twitched for a few moments before resting his head on your shoulder as he slowly came down from his high. “Oh my god. Fuck.” He kisses your shoulder. Then looked back, kissing your lips. “That was. Wow.” He gave you one more kiss and nodded at Tom before stepping aside to clean himself up.

 “Your turn Tommy.” In seconds, his pants were gone, a condom was on, and he was inside you. He was a bit thicker than Harrison, so you gasped as he didn’t even wait, just started moving in and out. “Oh. My. God.” You gasped between thrusts. Tom sucked your neck, right behind your ear. Then used his hands to reach under your shirt to cup your breast.

 “Fuck. Y/N. You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this.” He pulled you closer, just enough to almost be off the counter.

 You let out another moan at the change in everything. “So I’ve heard. I've wanted it too. From both of you.”

 His thrust got harder as he moaned your name. “I’m close. Fuck. Harrison. Wanna give princess here a hand.”

 Without a word, Harrison came over and his hand was on your clit rubbing hard fast circles.

 “Oh my fuck. Fuck. Tom, shiiiit Haz.” Each boy had their lips on you. Harrison kissing and licking down as far as your shirt would allow, and Tom leaving hickies up and down your neck. The feeling of both of them touching you sent you absolutely wild. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

 “Come for us princess.” They both said, sending chills down your spin as your entire body vibrated with your orgasim. You clinched around Tom, sending him over the edge as well.

 “Fuufuck.” You rode out your high as Harrison softly kissed your cheek and smoothed your hair. It took a moment for Tom to regain himself, and you winced a bit as he pulled out. “Let’s get you cleaned up and get home. I’m feeling a nap and a bit more fun tonight.” He kisses your lips and both boys helped you get cleaned up and dressed.

 “I guess embarrassing myself wasn’t all that bad.” You laughed as the three of you made your way to the car.

 “Not in the slightest, love.”

[theboredtanuki]

Writing practice #1: Starbucks promote

*Author's not : So this was supposed to be a short AU thing to help get me back into the writing mood but it turned out longer than I expected. I even started writing an alternate version but I don't know if I'll post that one. Anyway, this is a simple love at first sight story. Enjoy.

*******************************************

Title: Something Interesting.

"We are truly sorry for the inconvenience. Please have a nice day. " As he watched yet another disappointed costumer storm out into the crisp morning light, Yoichi's strained business smile finally twitched. "tch...fucking idiot." he whispered harshly under his breath. 'What is wrong with people these days!?' The whole unicorn frappachino debauchery had been the bane of his existence for the past few weeks. The stupid trend had died months ago yet there were still a few doltish Instagram wannabes who kept crawling back asking for a goddamned unicorn frappachino and the worst part was that he got yelled at when he told them they didn't make the damn things anymore. Why!? He didn't know how to make them, he never even liked them! Honestly, he was so close to yelling back and calling them out on their bullshit, but he wasn't ready to get fired over some silly costumer's antics. Going job hunting again would just be one big hassle plus it would be difficult to find another manager who was understanding enough to let him wear a light dusting of makeup on a workday.

He heaved an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his dark, slightly waved hair that fell just past his shoulders. Damn, it was still morning but he already felt like punching someone in the eye. "You hanging in there, Chi? " Like a dull butter knife hacking through his slightly murderous thoughts, Eugenie's flat toned voice rang out as she worked the espresso machine behind him. There might have been a hint of concern in there somewhere, he wasn't sure. One never knew when it came to his small bestie. "Haa... sometimes I wish internet trends could just burn in hell." " 'nother unicorn frappa order? " "It's the 10th one this week and it's just Tuesday! Whatever happened to regular plain coffee!?" "Don't let it bother you, sweets. Just blame the internet like everyone else does." "Tch... I hope they trip on a fidget spinner and break their IPhone. " He heard a chuckle for his tiny friend. 'Oh...she laughed. There might be a blue moon tonight or something.' It was very rear to get away sort of reaction from Genie (emotional or otherwise), so much so that he and most of their other close friends used her sparse emotional responses as either a forecast for natural disasters, a luck/love horoscope or a sign of the second coming of Christ. Whichever one it was, she never seemed to mind. It was all in good fun anyway. "Well, 'nough about the internet," her voice returned to its original stoic tune, not even hinting at her brief moment of amusement, "You need to cheer up. You promised to help me with my new piece after work. Can't have my pretty model being all pissy now, can I? "

He smiled. "Still won't give up on calling me 'pretty', will you." "Nah. " "Even if I offered to clean your house for a week? " "Oh, please. Both of us know you can't clean worth shit. " "Haha... Yeah, you're right. " And just like that, he was laughing again. Like whole ordeal with the customer never happened. It was amazing how she could cheer him up without even trying. It might be some weird superpower or something but nevertheless, he was lucky to have her as a friend. "Hey... Thanks, Gee." She glanced over her shoulder at him with the same blank look but her calm blue eyes had a gentle sparkle that somehow conveyed her appreciation. "Any time, babe." With that, she scurried off to deliver the espresso order, leaving Yoichi to face his counter once again. He took a deep calming breath and was ready to give the day another try. Eugenie was right. He didn't have to time to get so worked up over a few dense costumers. Who knows, maybe something interesting might take his mind off the whole incident. Just as that thought crossed his mind, a dull thud drew his attention to the front entrance as a tall man made his way in with a hand lightly rubbing his forehead. 'Wow, that hair... Wait, did he just walk into the glass door...? ' Yoichi quickly covered up his upcoming giggle with a discreet cough but he didn't miss the open chuckles of the few patrons in the cafe who witnessed what happened.

'Poor guy ' He began to observe the slightly disoriented young man. He looked to the first thing that had caught his attention, the man's hair. At first he thought it was a normal dark colour but when it caught the light of the sun, he realised that it was dyed dark purple colour that faded into navy blue at the tips. It was also very VERY long. It ran past the man's firm looking rear and was pulled back into a single braid with a cute little red bow at the end. It was rare to see guys who kept hair like that. It was almost...whimsical in fact. He took note of the man's pale green eyes darting from the menu above the counter to the white floor tiles, desperately trying to avoid any eye contact after his embarrassing entrance. He also took note of his height. He was a tall guy, about 6"2 from Yoichi's estimate, with a somewhat muscular frame that was draped in a casual shirt, light sweater and jeans. He had an overall gentle disposition despite his current state of nervousness of which Yoichi began to find oddly adorable in a way. He didn't usually make it a habit of checking out the odd male costumer who came in and out of the cafe but this guy was different. Just seeing him filled Yoichi with this strange urge. An urge to tease him relentlessly until he was too embarrassed to function. It seemed like a perfectly normal feeling to have. Almost.

"Welcome" to Starbucks, sir. How may I help? " The guy almost jumped through the roof at the sound of Yoichi's voice, as if he hadn't realised he had just walked up to the counter. Yoichi began to have a hard time keeping his business smile from turning into a full on grin. The guy was way too cute. "Oh! umm... I-I'm sorry. I would like a C-cascara Coconut milk Latte. P-please... " Yoichi never thought he'd hear the voice of an angel until today. Despite his constant nervous stuttering, his voice had this odd placidity to it, as if it belonged to some lake fairy or something. He wouldn't mind listening to him talk a bit more. "Okay, and what size will it be? " "Umm... a-uh - what are the sizes again?... Ah, yes! Grande, please." He looked quite proud that he could remember those silly size names and honestly, it was hard not to feel proud of him as well. Not when he had that small triumphant smile on his face. "And your name, sir? " "Oh... Akito. " 'Akito...' Yoichi committed it to memory. He wouldn't forget that name. He didn't want to for some reason. "OK, sir. Your order will be out shortly. " "Alright. Thank you very much. "

The nervous tension seemed to ease off Akito. His face relaxed into an easy smile and Yoichi thought he had lost his heart for a moment. 'Not fair. That smile is just not fair ' Yoichi reluctantly pulled himself away and began making the latte. He stole a few glances at him every few seconds. They had made eye contact a few times, he was sure of it. He watched him fiddle with his phone in an attempt to be discreet. 'Hehe... such a cutie. ' "Cute one, eh. " Eugenie came up beside him to make another costumer's order, "you going for it? " "You think I should? " "He's not the usual spot on your radar but, " she glanced back to give Akito a quick once over, "he seems harmless enough. " He smiled and gave his petite friend a small playful nudge. "I don't need your approval, short stack." She nudged him back. "You never ask for my approval. That's why you've had such shit exs." "Hey now. They weren't all that bad. " Nope, they were. But he wasn't planning to admit he had shit taste in guys. Genie sighed and shook her head like a disappointed mother. "Just go before someone else picks him up. " She was right. Most of the store's patrons had gotten over Akito's not-so-graceful entrance and were now throwing curious glances his way, some were openly starring at him. One brave soul even took a quick picture. And from his sudden stiff posture, Akito noticed them as well . 'Ha, don't even think about it. You leeches.'

He was about to put the finishing touches on the latte but stopped. Why was he suddenly interested in this guy? Akito wasn't even his type. He usually went for the stereotypical bad boy and this guy gave off more of a big puppy vibe but there was just something oddly interesting about him. This was the first time he picked a partner on the basis of being "oddly interesting" but since he hadn't dated anyone in almost 8 months, maybe "interesting" was what he needed. With his mind made up, he finished the order and called out for Akito to pick it up. He looked up at him as he made his way to the counter, making sure to keep eye contact. He dropped his stiff business smile and went for something more friendly albeit a tad bit flirtatious and lastly he made sure their fingers brushed against each other as he handed over the drink. "Have a nice day, sir" "I-um... T-thank you." Yoichi didn't miss the bit of red that creped up on Akito's cheeks as he turned to leave, stumbling a bit with the door on his way out. Yep. Interesting was definitely what he needed. **********************************************

And that's it. I hope you enjoyed that. Some feedback would be nice. Thank you.

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

Say What You Will About Trump Adviser Roger Stone’s Politics. But His Style Knowledge? Unrivaled.

Roger Stone, a longtime political provocateur and adviser to President Trump, leaves a courtroom in New York on March 30. (Photo: Seth Wenig/AP)

“My guy looks like a Czarist Mr. Peanut,” is how one Twitter user described Roger Stone after glimpsing a photo of the longtime Trump adviser on Inauguration Day. Other choice descriptions in the merciless, 80-plus tweetstorm, retweeted by thousands and covered in the fashion press: “Babadook,” “the villain in the kids’ movie that stars a talking car,” “a Count Olaf disguise.”

In the photo, Stone is standing with his wife and wearing a three-piece morning dress ensemble, replete with a top hat and pair of circular, black-framed sunglasses that are requisite to his persona.

It was not the first time his style has been bait for Internet trolls. In one appearance on the Alex Jones Show (where he is a frequent guest), the 64-year-old wears the same black glasses as he did on Inauguration Day, but with a Kangol wool hat and a leather jacket. Again, the trial-by-Twitter was harsh, dubbing him a “racist Spike Lee” and “mummified Bono.”

Top @realDonaldTrump advisor/confidante @RogerJStoneJr with wife Nydia at the Inauguration. #Dandy #Style pic.twitter.com/dULvingycv

— Stone On Style (@stoneonstyle) January 23, 2017

But Stone, who meets with Yahoo Style at a New York City Starbucks in a bold getup consisting of an Anderson & Sheppard three-piece custom suit and navy knit tie, is not one to be easily thrown off his fashion course.

“Everybody has their own style,” Stone says. “When young men want to talk to me about clothes, which is fairly often, I say to them, ‘You don’t want to look like me, you want to look like you. You’ve got to develop your own style.'”

He’s developed his, appropriately enough, with a careful eye on political history. “I’m wearing brown suede shoes and a gray suit,” he notes, sipping his sixth espresso quad shot of the day (“totally, totally addicted”). “That was completely unacceptable until 1938, when Edward, Prince of Wales, came to New York, and he was wearing the gray suit and calf shoes — reverse calf, or suede, as we know them today — and suddenly that was the style.” 

Stone worked as a campaign manager for Kristin Davis, who once supplied escorts to then-New York governor Eliot Spitzer. (Photo: AP Images)

Also part of his look during the Yahoo Style interview: a pair of circular-framed prescription glasses, these from E.B. Meyrowitz and Dell Opticians in midtown Manhattan (“They have been around so long, they made glasses for Theodore Roosevelt,” Stone notes); and a 30-year-old Louis Vuitton tote, stocked with a New York Post and the New York Times and fitted with custom straps that can fit over his shoulders, broadened from years of bodybuilding. By Stone’s side is Kristin Davis, a woman once known as the “Manhattan Madam,” imprisoned in 2015 for providing escorts to clients including former New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer. She was providing “moral support” to Stone earlier in the day, as he appeared for jury selection in a defamation case against him.

While many eagle-eyed Twitter users may be newly acquainted with Stone because of his fashion sense, he’s been a presence in politics for more than 40 years. There was the Nixon administration, wherein he was the youngest person to be called to speak before the Watergate jury (now it’s his back tattoo of former President Richard Nixon’s face that may be more well-known.) He co-founded the National Conservative Political Action Committee in 1975, which helped propel Ronald Reagan to the presidency. And today he works as a political consultant, best known as “the dirty trickster” who sabotages the governing dreams of Republican opponents by any means necessary.

Oh, and he’s being investigated by the FBI for possible connections between Russia’s interference in the U.S. election and the Trump campaign. He says he has nothing to hide, and welcomes an invitation to testify to Congress — in public, under oath, with no immunity.

Stone has been an on-and-off adviser to President Trump for more than three decades, way before the current leader entered the political stage. Of Stone, Trump told the New Yorker in 2008: “Roger is a stone-cold loser. He always tries taking credit for things he never did.” More recently, though, the Trump-Stone thermostat has warmed. “Roger Stone was just banned by CNN their loss! Tough, loyal guy,” Trump tweeted in February 2016.

Roger Stone has a Nixon back tattoo, and this is my favorite thing I missed yesterday https://t.co/IVfRvE52ZS pic.twitter.com/qhPESONbUw

— IT Superfood (@melbacoast) August 6, 2015

Over the last few months, Stone has embarked upon a media blitz promoting not only a new book, The Making of the President 2016: How Donald Trump Orchestrated a Revolution, but also a new Netflix documentary of which he is the subject, set to premier at the Tribeca Film Festival in late April. And to be sure, he’s defending not only his political record, but his sartorial record too. 

It’s something he’s been at for a while on social media, as, much like Trump, Stone is prolific, if not totally unfiltered, on Twitter. He was quick to defend the Alex Jones Show outfit, tweeting, “Some people are so lacking in style that they don’t get the homage to Bobby Seale and Panther Style.”

the new series of unfortunate events sucks pic.twitter.com/CkT2DWLUg8

— Goth Ms. Frizzle (@spookperson) March 20, 2017

So say what you will of his ultraconservative politics, but Stone’s style record is inimitable insofar as it abides by classic rules of dressing: Don’t wear light colors if you’re heavyset. Don’t send your suit to the dry cleaners too often or it will bubble. A double-breasted navy blue blazer is a staple. A proper fit is paramount.

And while most of his Internet hot takes tend to indulge his far-right conservative followers (“The more upset Hillary supporters are about losing the more I enjoy it. Now we must send Hillary Clinton to prison for her crimes,” for example), he quips on fashion just as well. In 2015, he wondered whether Yeezy, Kanye West’s clothing line, is a joke, calling it a “fashion wreck.” More recently, he took a page out of the POTUS tweet playbook when he called Meryl Streep’s Givenchy dress at the Golden Globes “a disaster” and “sad.”

Roger Stone talks to reporters on March 30, wearing the circular, black-framed glasses for which he’s known. (Photo: Seth Wenig/AP)

He is also men’s fashion editor for Tucker Carlson’s conservative site the Daily Caller and has his own style blog, Stone on Style, on which he features an annual best- and worst-dressed lists. Last year’s bests were Fox News host Kimberly Guilfoyle and disgraced former Breitbart editor Milo Yiannopoulos. The worst? Hillary Clinton and Rand Paul.

He shares plenty of highly detailed fashion musings with Yahoo Style, on everyone from the Kennedy brothers to Thom Browne. “I think [JFK’s] style, which is your absolute unalloyed, preppy, Ivy League —  which is also true of Bobby and Teddy as well, they were all great dressers — is not premeditated,” he says on the former. “It’s interesting that John Kennedy pioneers the two-button suit. Until then, most men’s suits were three-button, with that top button pretty high. The two-button suit [that] we consider the epitome of American style was made in London by a British tailor, to Kennedy’s specifications. He described the suit, and they made it. Once he was seen in it, that was it. The three-button suit was gone, the two-button suit was standard.”

Stone likes Browne, but notes it’s not a look that would work on him because of his “heavy thighs and heavy calves” from years of running. “That’s what started me on custom clothing. I didn’t have any choice,” he says. “I had 44-inch shoulders but a 30-inch waist. So buying… a suit off the rack meant the jacket would fit, but when you altered the pants, the pockets in the back would be right next to each other and that doesn’t work. I had to get things made to have them fit right. Once you do it, you become addicted.”

Now he lets Alan Flusser make him custom suits that duplicate something he says he saw on ’30s jazz singer Cab Calloway. The New York City–based Flusser, he says “has a taste level, in terms of fabric and fit, that you can’t find anywhere else in the United States.” He can’t say the same for “Wall Street types,” who are, Stone believes, “confusing expensive with good — expensive with stylish. They’re not necessarily the same thing.” These men might wear “Zegna suits, Britton suits,” he notes, but “I think a lot of these guys operate on the price tag, rather than whether the fit is right for their body type.”

Roger Stone addresses the conservative group America First in March. He spent much of 2016 campaigning for Trump. (Photo: Michael Ares/Palm Beach Post via AP)

Speaking of suits, when asked who within the Trump orbit he’d most like to give a style makeover, Stone quickly names press secretary Sean Spicer, whose outfits have elicited jokes from the public and criticism from the president. “He’s got very, you know, classic Ivy League, prepster-inspired clothing, but he needs higher quality. His lapels are too small, his suits don��t fit, and his choice of neckwear is spotty,” Stone says. “He has to be given credit, though. He’s trying and clearly improving.”

Of Trump himself, Stone confirms much of what’s already been said about the president’s style — that he’s a “Brioni man” who invented the solid red power tie in the ’80s. When asked whether the man who branded himself a nationalist champion on the campaign trail should favor U.S. clothiers, Stone says, “It would probably be good if he bought American,” adding that a small, Tennessee-based menswear manufacturer, Hardwick, did make a recent gesture. “I just saw like two days ago, they’re sending the president a suit,” he says. “Legally he’s allowed to accept if he donates it to the Smithsonian when he leaves office. I think that’s a step in the right direction.”

And while Stone is not officially tied to the Trump administration in its current iteration, he’s never too far from Washington drama. In fact, he’s about to be at the center of it — a fact not lost on this image-conscious operative.

“I’m already planning what I’ll wear for Congress,” he says. “For the hearings.”

Read more from Yahoo Style + Beauty:

How Michelle Dockery Ditched Downton Abbey for Sexy Pinstripes

What’s the Difference Between a $2,000 Burberry Trench Coat and a $200 One?

Jenna Dewan Tatum’s Very Specific Reason for Working With Jennifer Lopez

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Alexandra Mondalek is a writer for Yahoo Style + Beauty. Follow her on Twitter @amondalek.