#OPT Students Looking for Jobs

[trash-bin-ary]

Just got an email that my tuition might increase, gonna kill a man. It’s already so fucking much please god no I don’t want to have student debt for the rest of my life

[reidmotif]

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat. 

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil? 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. 

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

 For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid. 

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him. 

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man. 

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

 You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed. 

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

 How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall. 

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship. 

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly. 

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?” 

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him.  “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.” 

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.” 

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation. 

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

 There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?” 

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?” 

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues. 

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.” 

You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead. 

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement. 

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement. 

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at you, as if he was sizing you up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.” 

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning. 

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.” 

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging. 

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it. 

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies. 

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.” 

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left. 

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to. 

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that. 

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read. 

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night. 

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon. 

You shrug it off. All in good time, right? 

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind. 

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here. 

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

 “I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.” 

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal. 

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-” 

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted,  missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you. 

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent. 

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them. 

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.” 

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer. 

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.” 

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent. 

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend. 

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.” 

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words. 

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out. 

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.” 

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. “There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.” 

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness. 

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?” 

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever. 

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You don’t move a single muscle. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again. 

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs. 

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before. 

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening. 

“Need to taste you. Please.” 

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out. 

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?  

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment. 

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly.  You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release. 

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream. 

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you? 

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next. 

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against  his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly. 

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you? 

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly. 

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act. 

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end. 

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this. 

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor. 

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good. 

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked. 

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark. 

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine. 

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt. 

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release. 

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.” 

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to. 

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well,  a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could. 

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything,  and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once. 

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened. 

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers. 

“More than okay.” You whisper back. 

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.” 

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out. 

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.” 

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief  can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out. 

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic. 

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you. 

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

[littlemissmiller]

𝑀𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: the summer before you graduated college, Joel Miller became a regular at the bar you worked. he was perfect except one small problem…you already have a boyfriend

Warning: 21+ (drinking), fluff, slight age gap (reader is in her early 20s and Joel is 30) smut, oral (f receiving) p in v, slight body worshipping, porn with plot

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: i did it! i finally wrote a fic to live up to my blog name! i’m so proud of this one y’all like omg…i love it, it’s so perfect. such a cute lil fluffy smut (≧◡≦) ♡ also still can’t get over the fact that people like my little hobby, so thank you for all the love! it only encourages me to write more. speaking of which, i have so many stories for the summer coming up, especially with tom blyth coming back as billy. i already have a few stories started so hopefully they will be out sooner rather then later. ok that’s it i have nothing more to say. enjoy ❣︎

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It was your last summer before graduating college and being home made you want to cherish your last year even more. You were looking forward to it and ready to be done bartending so you could see your friends and have some real fun. Sure, this job made you a ton of cash, but being home was nothing in comparison to being with your college friends in a town totally catered to you and your fellow students. Although your hometown had its perks. At least it used to. Your longtime boyfriend had never left your hometown or went to college. He had instead opted for going into a trade and becoming an electrician.

Your relationship was strong at first, but every semester it became harder and harder to navigate. Time after time you had convinced yourself that he was still your best friend, but meeting new people in college and getting to experience the joys of youth on your own for the first time, had given you a lot of perspective. So every birthday, holiday, and summer, you felt like you were coming home to a completely different man. Yet you stayed with him because you really wanted to make it work and you told yourself you loved him. Yet something unexpected had happened. One evening at work, a group of men came in to watch the Rangers game. That’s when you first met him and that’s the night Joel Miller would become a regular at your bar.

He was clearly older, at least thirty, but you couldn’t help but practically gawk at him all night. And you couldn’t help but think that Joel was eyeing you too. But you felt a wave of guilt overcome you. You knew you shouldn’t feel like this. You knew you shouldn’t be staring down another man like that but you couldn’t help it. But his arms looked so strong, like he could carry you effortlessly. You couldn’t help the way you smiled every time he would share a boisterous laugh with his friends. His own sweet smile drew you in and you noticed he had the cutest cheek nimble on top of it. From his big chiseled nose to his perfectly crafted jawline, he was an absolute Adonis. Just then another wave of guilt washed over you and you tried to shake away your feelings of disloyalty as you walked into the kitchen, putting their food order in.

As you walked out of the kitchen and brought them their next set of drinks, you tried not to look at him so much but it’s hard not to. Then he spoke up.

“Hey darling? Could I get some more napkins when you get the chance?”

“Yeah sure!” You scurried off and came back immediately

He smiled at you as he thanked you which made your heart flutter. As you made your way back to the kitchen, another server catches up to you.

“Who’s the handsome cowboy at 13?” She asked

“Oh” you started “I’m not sure. Are you talking about the man in the white shirt?” You lied acting like she was talking about someone else

“Girl, don’t play. I can see him undressing you right now”

You glanced over, and caught him smiling at you while he sipped his beer. You started to smile back, when the guilt hit you again and you turned back to your co-worker.

“Oh…yeah…h-he is handsome yeah…but not like I’m interested.” You lied again

“Okaaay whatever you say…” she said unconvinced, rushing off to her table

Joel and his buddies left around 9 and you noticed that Joel leaves the biggest tip out of everyone. Around 10 o’ clock you clocked out and headed to your boyfriend’s house where you had planned on spending the night. Once you arrived, you walked straight into his room where he was playing some PC game. His back was towards you and he didn’t notice you at first with his big headset on. You hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek. He startled and you jumped back.

“Woah! Hey! Your home” he remarked, clutching his chest, barely glancing at you “Jesus you scared me.”

“Clearly” you giggled

“God don’t sneak up on me like that. Could have cost me the game” he sighed, as he returned his full attention to the screen.

“What ya playing?

“COD�� he remarked dryly

“Are you gonna be finishing soon?” You inquired

“Ahh probably not. I figured you’d be too tired to hang after your shift so I told the boys I’d be on tonight.”

“I thought you said we would watch a movie after work tonight?”

“Oh yeah, I mean I don’t know I just kinda figured you’d want to go to bed when you got home. Plus you fall asleep to every movie we watch together”

“Yeah” you sighed in disappointment, wanting to follow it up with “but that’s not the point.” You knew he’d get upset at you for pulling him away from his game. “I just want to cuddle you.”

“Ok ok I got ya. I’ll be in bed soon, ok.” He said halfhearted, still not looking at you.

You changed into a pair of sweat shorts and an old shirt and got ready for bed. As you climb into bed you want to cry. And you questioned your guilt from tonight. Maybe it was because it had been a while since a man seemingly flirted with you that made you realize just how lousy your boyfriend has become. When was the last time he genuinely made you feel special? You fell asleep, but were woken up by small kisses on your neck, but your boyfriend began to move more aggressively, trusting and grinning his crotch against your ass. At that point you’re too tired for sex, and all you wanted was for him to hold you and care for you.

“Mmm babe I’m really tired” you whined

“I thought you wanted attention?” He asked, continuing his actions. You pushed away slightly but he continued, only pulling you closer against his chest.

“I do, just not like this. Not right now ok? I just want to sleep.”

He sighed, turning over

“See this is why I don’t want to do a movie with you. I knew you would be too tired.”

“That’s not…” you wanted to finish your sentence again and say “that’s not fair” but once again that would probably upset him and now he was annoyed with you so you don’t want to push it. “I just want to sleep now ok.”

“Ok. It’s fine. Goodnight.” He huffed, falling asleep.

The next couple of shifts your mind is preoccupied by your newfound feelings about your relationship. Your boyfriend wasn’t abusive by any means, but it was clear the relationship wasn’t healthy anymore. That’s when the crying at work started. Mainly because you had just come from his house before each shift and every interaction with him pained you. The only thing that kept you from continuously calling off was Joel. Almost every shift around 5 o’clock he would come in, order a few beers, maybe something to eat, and chat it up with you.

By the third week, all your co-workers were teasing you about him. Whenever his truck would pull up in the parking lot, someone would come get you.

“Your cowboy is here!” Someone yelled out to you, stepping out of the kitchen. You left the servers station to greet him.

“Hey Joel! Mich Ultra? You asked

“You know it darling. How you’ve been?” He smiled, causing you to practically melt into a puddle. You gathered yourself and smiled back at him.

“About the same as the last time you saw me.”

“And still as beautiful as ever.” He winked

“You flatter me Mr. Miller. I bet Mrs. Miller is one special lady hmm?” You asked more or less trying to see if he was actually flirting with you or just being nice.

“She would if there was one.”

“Oh I thought you said you have a daughter?” You questioned more

“And a man can’t be a single dad in this world? How sexist of you” he chuckled sarcastically

You rolled your eyes at him and laughed along.

“I just thought such a handsome cowboy as yourself would have a beautiful gal to go home to.”

“I wish…” he sighed, eyes giving you a once over

“So where is she then? Your daughter? If not with her mom. You know we allowed kids in before 9 right?”

“Yeah, she just has soccer practice at this time three days a week. I figured why not wait for her to be done and come see you since I’m out and about.” He explained

“Ain’t you just a charmer.” I’ll get you that beer.”

You walk over to behind the bar and fetch Joel his beer.

“He’s just all over you” one of the bartenders remarked

“And he tips well too.”

“Gee I wonder why” they smirked, giving you a look “how does your boyfriend feel about him?”

“I mean he’s just a customer. They flirt all the time and who doesn’t like the extra cash?” You started quickly

“Mhmm sure” they said

You walk back to him, bringing him his beer and continuing to chat with him. He ordered another beer then left to go pick up his daughter Sarah.

Now every time at work shift, it felt like an escape. It also felt like a fantastic secret that only you knew about. A fantasy being played out in real life. Joel was so charming.

Even though he was older, his youthful demeanor shone through. He was caring too. If he wasn’t asking about you and your life, he was talking about his daughter. You could tell she was his world. He absolutely adored her, and you loved to listen to him go on and on about her. You didn’t quite care what your co-workers would say or how your boss didn’t like that you hovered around his table, sometimes neglecting your other ones.

But he couldn’t complain too much given Joel was a respectful, paying customer. And a great tipper. And he would always leave a little note on his receipt. Nothing too flirtatious, just innocent enough to toe the line. This went on for a couple more weeks, your boyfriend none the wiser. Not like he was paying much attention to you anymore. Every note, you would take them and make sure to hide them when you got home. You stored them in your sock drawer and kept them secret like everything else about him. You still felt guilty though and realize that you need to end things with your boyfriend. It’s harder than you thought and truthfully you don’t know how to leave someone you’ve cared about that much. And been with for so long. But talking to Joel made you realize what you needed. And what you wanted. And you wanted him. And something told you he wanted you too.

Then back at home, living with your boyfriend it was a totally different reality. He felt so disconnected from you, so indifferent. And the more you faded away from him the less you felt like you really loved him still. And he noticed you pulling away from him. One night, you came home and had kept another one of Joel’s receipts.

“See you Wednesday :) Joel”

You left your server book out on his bed, along with your purse and hopped into the shower without thinking. When you got out of the shower, your boyfriend was sitting on his gamer chair, nose deep in your server book. You froze and tightened the towel around you nervously.

“Oh hey babe. When did you get home? I thought you and the boys were having a boys night? “

“We decided to just get dinner instead. What’s this?” He asked, holding up the receipt.

“Oh, just one of my regulars. Don’t worry about it.” You giggled, trying to play it cool reaching for the book. He holds it back from you and stands up.

“Who’s Joel?”

“My regular” you repeated

“Oh yeah. I bet he tips you well hmm? Pays you lots of attention?” He asked accusatorily.

“I-he…he’s just a regular we get them all the time.”

“Yeah, but you said he is one of YOUR regulars. Why yours? Why is he writing you notes?”

“He-he just always sits in my section I don’t know. That’s not too unusual…and a lot of customers write thank you notes and stuff I can’t control them!” You insisted, readjusting your towel again

“You expect me to believe that?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Well I don’t need creepy men hitting on my girl at work.” He barked back

“He’s not creepy and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Oh then what is he?”

“He’s just a customer!” You argued even though it was a lie

From that moment on, your boyfriend had grown highly suspicious of your relationship with him and Joel. Wednesday rolled around and Joel showed up again as expected. You nervously approached him as he sat down.

“Well hey their sugar” he smiled

“Hey Joel” you replied, only giving him a half smile

He searched your face and could tell something is up.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just life stuff. So Mich Ultra?”

He nodded and you walked off. His eyes followed you, watching you as you went to the bar. You came back and gave him his beer. You wanted to set it down and walk away, but Joel’s concerned eyes beckoned you to say.

“Thinking about food?” You asked him

“Maybe. I’m sorry doll, I don’t mean to pry but if I did anything to put you off-“

“No Joel of course it’s not you it’s just…relationship issues” you huff

“Sorry to hear that sugar. I hope y’all can work it out”

“I hope so” you sigh, knowing it’s a lie.

Just then your boyfriend storms into the bar. You don’t notice him at first, but then you hear a set of heavy footsteps approaching towards you and you look up. Confused, you call out his name.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t visit my girl at work anymore?” He asked glancing at Joel

“Excuse me.” You mumble to Joel, walking over to him and grabbing his hand. You lead him out of the building.

“What are you doing?!” You shouted

“Is that him? Is that Joel?” he sneered

“Why do you care all of a sudden hmm? You’ve barely paid attention to me in the last few months. What happened to us?” You nearly sobbed.

He sighed and shook his head

“What do you want from me? I mean I’m frustrated with you too if that helps. You have completely shut yourself off, don’t tell me shit! I’m upset too! Especially that I know you’re flaunting yourself around weirdo old men.”

“Stop! That’s it, I can't do this anymore. I’m so scared to tell you anything because of how you act when I share your feelings. When I come home, you ignore me and frankly it seems like you only give me affection when you want to fuck me!”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, throwing his arms up.

“Oh my god! You over exaggerate everything. Is this why you’re acting like an attention seeker? Because you think I don’t pamper you?”

“Unbelievable. Pampering really…you know what I’m not arguing with you! I’m done! We’re done!” You shout and storm back into the back

“Done? Really like that? Four years done like that? Fine whatever, be that way, I know you don’t mean it. I’ll see you at home.” And he storms off back to his car.

You wanted to cry as you stormed back into the bar, but you held yourself together.

You tried to hide your clearly upset face as you rushed back into the kitchen and into the back alley next to the dumpsters. Joel noticed and ran out of the bar looking for you. He searched around the building then he called out to you.

“Hey. What’s wrong.”

You can’t help it. One look at him, and you ran into his arms. He embraced you, holding you tight.

“Hey my little firefly…what’s wrong?” He asked, his sweet southern drawl falling like your tears.

“I loved him Joel… why do people stop loving you back…” you sobbed

Joel gently stroked your hair, attempting to calm you down. It didn’t feel strange to be held by him. You felt safe, and comfortable in his arms, despite barely knowing him or even having any interaction with him outside of work, that moment felt right.

“I don’t know darling.” Joel sighed

You eventually gathered yourself and go back inside with him. Your boss thankfully didn’t notice your absence. Joel returned to his table and you returned to your other patrons. After his beer, Joel left and you didn’t really get a chance to see him leave. When you went to collect his tap you saw another note this time with his phone number and it read:

“Gotta go get Sarah. Call me if you need to talk”

Your heart dropped. He had finally given you his number and at the same time you still felt guilty. Even though you had, despite what your now ex-boyfriend thinks, finally ended your relationship. And here the opportunity was. Right in front of you. You look at the receipt, take it, fold it and immediately put it in your pocket to keep it safe. You clock out at ten and are all too eager to get into your car to call Joel. Once you do, you dial the number and it rings.

“Hello?”

“He-hey Joel it’s me…” you uttered

“You ok darling?” He asked sweetly

Maybe it was his voice, the question, or the fact that the weight of the burdens of your life seemed to have fallen apart around you, but you cried again. Letting it all out and at the same time feeling better than ever.

“Hey hey hey” Joel whispered “I just put Sarah to bed…why don’t you come over here? We can talk ok?”

You nodded and sobbed.

“Ok…”

Joel texted you his address and you put it into your GPS. It’s only about a ten minute drive to his house and when you pulled up, you nervously exit your vehicle. You walked up the front door and knocked quietly, not wanting to wake Sarah. A moment later, it swung open and Joel’s handsome face looked at yours with deep concern.

“Come on in.”

You nodded and walked into his home. As expected it’s much nicer than your boyfriends, but then again Joel is an actual adult, with a kid, and mortgage to pay off so it was to be slightly expected. It wasn’t too fancy, just your standard suburban home. You walked over to the couch and Joel followed you.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Honestly I need something a little strong. Got any whiskey?”

He smiled ear to ear.

“Ya betcha.” And he rushed off into his kitchen.

You made yourself comfortable and tried to relax as you looked around Joel’s living room. You curiously strode over to his bookshelf and read the titles. Lots of history books, a few fiction and then you noticed the framed photo of him and his daughter. You realize you’ve never seen a photo of her, but she’s just as beautiful as you could have imagined. You smiled and Joel caught you in your curiosity.

“She’s been my little gem since day one. Just me and her. I don’t think I ever told ya, but her mom left us so…” he remarked.

You looked at him, smiled and nodded.

“She’s beautiful, Joel. You’re a great dad.”

Joel sat the glasses of whiskey down on the shelf and reached for your hand. You gasp slightly, look at where he’s touched you and then look up into his eyes. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You asked me why people stop loving people back and ya know, I still don’t have a good answer for that. I guess it’s because I’ve been asking myself the same thing for the last twelve years.”

“Joel…you’re such a good man…” you sighed, squeezing his hand.

“You’re too kind darling.” He smiled

“No really.”

You stared at him for a moment. His eyes searched your own looking for what he suspected you wanted from him. He cupped your face and he leaned in to kiss you. His lips fit perfectly against yours, like he was made for you. It was perfect and passionate. He was so gentle, yet you could feel how badly he had wanted this moment with you. He pulled back for a moment to make sure he hadn’t crossed the line.

“Got a bedroom?” You smirked

Before you knew it, Joel was crawling on top of you and you took off your shirt. At the same time he was busy frantically kissing your neck and jaw. He tossed it off and Joel took a moment to admire your chest. He gasped and reached to grope your breasts. Your soft, perky mounds fit perfectly in his hand and he began to massage you. He was in utter awe of you. Almost overwhelmed that he was getting to have you like this. You stared back up at him, equally in awe at that moment.

His big brown eyes melted your heart and all your troubles melted too. Fuck your lousy ex. All you wanted and needed was Joel. He kissed you again as he continued to play with your breasts. You let out a few giggles that turned into harsh, sharp moans as he moved his mouth down your body.

“Fuck…” you whispered, the word dancing around the room.

As his lips trailed you, your body reacted, your hips bucked and you were practically squirming under him. When his mouth found your cleavage, you felt the heat in between your legs grow stronger.

He continued to kiss you, only breaking away to take off his own shirt. He was toned, his skin smooth and he was unbelievably broad. You couldn’t help but admire the way his collar bone met his neckline. It was clean and sharp. You tried not to think of your ex, but in comparison he was not as fit as the gorgeous man in front of you. You placed your hands on his chest and felt his pecs, running your fingers down to his abdomen. You leaned up to kiss him again. His lips were so soft and addictive. You could’ve kissed him all night, but your desires beckoned for more. He held you up slightly and flipped you over. As he did he unhooked your bra and you let it fall off your chest. He tossed it on the ground and admired your bare chest for the first time.

“You’re so gorgeous. “ he uttered as your hair fell in front of you.

He pushed it out of the way and cupped your face. He pulled you back down to capture your mouth once again, lightly gripping the back of your neck. Your bare boobs pressed down against his chest, a feeling which you love. Skin on skin, the close intimacy and the feeling of being wanted more than just something to fuck. That’s how your ex had made you feel the last few months when you and him had sex, so being touched, cherished by Joel made your head spin. You weren’t used to it and you could feel your body reacting to the unfamiliar sensations. Joel noticed.

“Baby, you ok?”

You blushed at the nickname, smiled and nodded.

“It’s just been some time since I felt like this.”

“When’s the last time he touched you?”

“I-I mean we would have sex once or twice a week…”

“When is the last time he really touched you though. Made you feel special?”

You simply stared at him speechless and tilted your head.

“You know what, forget about him. Just focus on me. Let me make you feel good like you deserve.”

With that, he decided to be bold and reached for your mini skirt. He pulled it down past your hips and you lifted them up so he could pull it off you. He tossed it on the ground with your bra and his hands immediately moved to cup your ass. He squeezed the pillowy flesh as you moved your hips. You could feel him getting hard under you and you eagerly reached for his belt. His hands moved up to your waist, rocking you more. You undo his belt and he lifted up his hips to take off his pants. He slid them off along with his boxers, revealing his length. It was perfect. Just the right size, the mushroom tip red and swollen. Encouraged by his actions, you slide your panties off and you are both completely bare in front of each other.

He soaked the sight of your naked beauty in, eyes trailed over all your curves and edges. You were simply divine to him, a work of art. He runs his hands back up to your chest, briefly groping them, his eyes completely focused on your face. You grab his cock and began slowly stroking it. His mouth drops slightly as he watched you. He tilted his head back on the pillow briefly, before he looked back up to watch you. His breathing became ragged and you picked up your pace. You start to move on top of him, guiding his cock to your entrance, but he stops you.

“Let me get you wet.” He insisted, grabbing your hips and flipping you again. Immediately, he kissed down your body, worshiping you. “You’re so perfect. If you were my girl I’d never stop showing you how perfect you are.” He muttered in between kisses.

He kissed your inner thigh before he experimentally rubbed your clit. You gasped, your hips bucked in his face. He smirked at your reaction, loving how you responded to his touch. Taking that as a sign you wanted more, he gently kissed your slit. He gave you another one and another one until the little pecks of his lips turned into the sloppy mess of his tongue. It had been ages since a man had gone down on you like this. Your ex-never warmed you up beforehand anymore, too eager to satisfy his own desire and pleasure. Joel knew how to be a real man. His tongue and lips suck and rub at your core. He moved his head too, adding to the friction. You reached for his brown locks, desperately in need of something to hold onto. He hung onto your hips and he moved you against his face. He moaned against your core, eating you out like you were the most delicious meal of his life. He pulled back, out of breath and drunk in your juices.

“Could taste ya all day darling.”

You nodded as he inserted a finger in you, twisting it. He slowly pumped it into you, curling it up as he added another finger. He watched as your face scrunched up in pleasure. He sped his hand up, totally focused on getting you to finish.

“Joel…Joel…Joel…” you chanted “Gonna cum”

He nodded and worked you a bit more until you tightened down around his digits. You came hard, the euphoria rushed through your body like a roller coaster.

“So beautiful oh my god.” He praised, rubbing your thighs.

He crawled back up to you. He kissed you letting you taste yourself. You hadn’t felt this kind of passion in a while, this intense feeling of intimacy.

“You ready? He asked, slowly rubbing your clit again.

You nodded as he lined himself up with your slit. You felt as his cock pushed past your folds and stretched you out perfectly. You gasped and he kissed your cheek feather light. He cooed at you as he slid in, hitting the back of your cervix. You gasped, which turned into a raspy moan that floated from your lips. Joel cupped your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek. You two shared in the silence of your pleasure for a moment, taking in how good the other felt. He moved, slow at first then he sped up. He felt so full inside you, and you lost yourself in the sensation of his length. You could have stayed like that all night, the steady motion of his cock pumping into you was pure bliss.

“Does that feel good?” Joel inquired lovingly

“Yes, please Joel I want more. I need more of you.”

Per your request, he gave you more, slightly giving into his own desires to want to ravish you. But given it’s your first time with him, Joel didn’t want a sloppy, lustful encounter. Yet, he picked up his speed, his length now hitting the back of your walls at an almost brutal pace. Joel makes sure to keep checking in on you to make sure you’re okay or that it doesn’t hurt too much. You panted and panted as he continued, gripping onto his waist with your legs, pushing him deeper into you. He moved a bit more then flipped over. You smiled at him, slightly out of breath.

“I want to see that beautiful body riding me. Is that ok?”

You nod enthusiastically, slowly starting to move your hips. Joel’s hands groped your ass, rocking you on him more. He sat up, pressed his lips firmly against yours and held you tight. You started to bounce on him which elicited a guttural moan from his lips. He moved his hand to your hips, looking up at you in awe.

How could anyone not treat you like the absolute treasure you are?

Joel thought and wondered to himself as he held you. He couldn’t believe that your ex-boyfriend would neglect you. What a foolish man, but now he had you. In the exact moment he had imagined. He had you. He moved his hips in sync with yours. You steadied yourself on his shoulders, ecstasy, providing you escape. Your breath hitched as you feel his cock stiffen more inside you. He was close. You didn’t want it to end but then again you had a feeling this wouldn’t be your last encounter with Joel. A few last rocks of your hips and he was spent. He pulled you off him abruptly as he shot his load onto his stomach. You caught your breath, resting your forehead against his. You held his jaw in your hands, settling your hips.

“Joel…” you whispered, the words ghosting over your lips.

“Yes darling..” he whispered back

“Y-you have no idea how much I wanted you like this.”

“I know. Me too, but not just like this. I want you. All of you. Can I please have it?” He nearly begged

Your enthusiasm took over you and you planted a spontaneous kiss on his lips.

“Yes Joel…you can have all of me.”

꧁✩★✩꧂

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ㅤspring break flingㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : deliquent (still not yet) bf Adrien x good student m!reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤSpring break is around the corner and the school plans a trip to the water park! Adrien and reader are still on tough terms but Adrien can't bear another moment to see you with anyone else!

✙ warnings — reader is kinda pervy and is suggested to take interest in their friend | jealous Adrien, risky/semi-public sex, bite marks, degradation, he's very possessive, dubcon(?), slightly overstim

notes ,, mushed both requests for Adrien together

It had been a week or so after the whole cockblocking incident with Adrien, but you've learnt to shake it off. Besides, the more important thing was the trip to the water park that was planned by your school to congratulate the seniors for their hard work in studying! Of course, being the student president, you were assigned to assist in the event and help everything go as smoothly as planned. Unfortunately, this meant that you had to sacrifice your time to actually get in the water and swim to help out, but you didn't mind as much knowing how many little kids have peed in the pools...

On the day of the trip, you were given a badge that adorned your name and the smaller letters of 'helper' underneath it as well as a corny custom shirt with your school's logo on it that was made by your teachers. Getting onto the bus didn't require much from you since your real job was to walk around the park aimlessly and stop any of the students from accidentally— or purposefully— committing a crime that would get the whole school banned. As you ushered your friend to sit on the window seat of the bus, like the gentleman you are, you opted for the isle seat so you could stretch your legs throughout the 3 hours it would take to reach your destination.

One by one your classmates shuffled through the bus, picking and choosing their ideal seats with smiles across their faces; it wasn't often that the school provided a field trip like this. Your eyes locked onto a few of Adrien's friends walk by your seat, but none of them were the man himself. You figured someone like him would rather skip school trips, in fact, you can't remember the last time you actually saw Adrien whenever there was a school trip. It would be nice to have him around sometimes though, just once. But you couldn't think like that! Not after all the stress he's caused you, and— speak of the devil; you hear that familiar rumble of Adrien's laugh as he walks onto the bus. You take the iniative to turn your head away from Adrien in an attempt to ignore him, your friend picked up on your actions and giggled at you.

A lingering brush of warmth against the skin of your forearm made your hairs rise and your body shiver. That bastard purposefully used his calloused fingertips to tease you. Your head whipped back and you caught a glimpse of Adrien's smirk before he turned his head away from your direction. He always found ways to make your heart race, and you couldn't tell if it was endearment or anger.

The sun was harsh against your skin as you wandered the premises of the water park. The whole process of trying to get a shitload of people into the water park was a nightmare and feeling Adrien's piercing gaze on your back 24/7 wasn't helping either. But finally, after that agonising hour, you were left to the peacefulness of your own thoughts as you ventured the park. You felt a tingling sensation of regret in your heart from seeing all your classmates splash around in the water. It must've been heavenly in this heat.

One of your friends must've noticed how flushed you were getting from the heat and called you over to the food court, "You look like you're dying, prez," having your friend call you 'prez' in a shortened version of president was kind of corny but you dismissed it nonetheless. One thing good about this heat was the fact that you could see the builds of all the guys, and your friend was no exception. "Is that the heat making your eyes wander or...?" Your friend let out a light-hearted chuckle when he saw the way your eyes drooped down to peak at his body. Damn, were you really that much of a pervert? You playfully nudge his shoulder in embarrassment before he offered to buy you icecream from one of the food stalls, and you follow him more than willingly.

"Who's that?" Adrien witnessed you get swept away and he couldn't help his jaw from clenching. Without a word, he left the wave pool almost immediately to tail after you, leaving his friends confused by the sudden mood change.

You and your friend bought ice-blocks and sat down together on a nearby bench, unaware that Adrien was watching from a distance. The bystanders shuffled away from him and some mothers even pulled their children away from Adrien. You bought the raspberry flavoured one and your friend bought the pineapple, and surprisingly it was better than the ones you bought at the store. "Hey, let's switch, I wanna taste yours," and before you knew it, your raspberry flavoured ice block was replaced with his pineapple one. You didn't mind too much since you were friends so you shrugged it off and tasted his, the tangy and sweet taste twirled on your tongue with the hint of sourness pricking your taste buds. Not bad, but the raspberry one was better, "I like mine better—" a hand grabs your collar and tugs you off the seat like a kitten being held by its scruff. You knew exactly who it was from the way your friend's eyes widened with slight fear — he was a deliquent after all, people were naturally afraid.

"What is your problem?!" You struggle in his grasp as Adrien dragged you into one of the bathroom stalls, slamming the door shut and locking it. You wince when your back is shoved against the wall and caged in. Adrien really did have a thing for pinning you to a wall in public places huh... "What are you doing with that guy?" You can hear the anger rumbling in his voice as his eyes pierced straight into your soul, his hand gripped your jaw, preventing you from looking away, "Sharing saliva like that? You know that's an indirect kiss right?" You could hear the sand on the floor crunch under the weight of Adrien's foot and you only really noticed now that he was wet. Droplets of water hung at the tips of his hair and created a layer of shine that glossed over his abs.

"If you want a guy so bad, I'm right here you fucker," Adrien's breath hitches at his own statement and he found his hand prying off his swimwear, groaning at how the water stuck to his skin and made it a slight bit more inconvenient to take off. He was impatient, could you really blame him? "He's just a friend," you retaliate, doing nothing to stop him but nothing to encourage him either, "Are you really upset over that—" And once again he's cut you off, flipping you so your back pressed agaisnt his chest. You grimace at your clothes getting damp from the water on his body and you flinch at the sudden coolness that pooled at your back. He doesn't respond to you, rather, he clasps your belt and slides it off. Was he really planning to fuck you in the bathroom of a water park?

"You looked at that guy like you were dating him, are you?" Adrien bit back. Literally. He latched his teeth onto the curve of the side of your neck to your nape, sinking his teeth into your skin, laying his tongue flat agaisnt it. You wanted to respond, you wanted to tell him that you were dating him and that you weren't exclusive. But were you really in the position to speak up when Adrien's pulling your boxers down and rubbing his cock along the line of your ass? As much as you tried to contort you body into turning to look at him, his body pressed you flush against the wall. You couldn't see his face but from the little groan he let out, you could tell he craved this as much as you did if not more.

He spat on his fingers, coating them in his saliva as make-shift lubricant before lining the tips of his fingers to your rim. "Does he know your body like I do, huh?" He skipped the initial step of 'one at a time' and pushed two fingers inside you; the slight burn caused your body to squirm uncomfortably. Your palms lay flat against the wall for stability as Adrien rocks your hips along with his fingers that curl inside you, eliciting a small groan. The way his fingers have already found your prostate was insane and he certainly wasn't going to let this discovery go to waste. Repeated thrusts of his fingers bullied your prostate, your voice spilt out like water, filling the room with lewd sounds. "Fuck," You cursed under your breath; your teeth catching on your bottom lip, biting down in a futile attempt to muffle the noises.

You couldn't see his face but you knew damn well Adrien was grinning like a Cheshire cat. He removed his fingers from your ass, slipping them out with a small pop before slapping his dick agaisnt the curve of your ass connected to your back, "I don't care if we aren't together. I don't care if you don't want me, I want you more than my next breaths and no one can take that away from me." Adrien's voice was heavy and sultry as he spoke to you, and his breath fanned your ear, causing goosebumps to run down your spine. The shuffling behind you indicated that Adrien was moving and suddenly you felt a hand grasp your nape while another found its comfort on your hip. You could barely make it out through Adrien's heavy breathing but he whispered under his breath, "perfect."

The anticipation was eating away at you. You knew Adrien loved taking his sweet time to savour you. Adrien seemed to read your thoughts — or the way your body involuntarily rocked against him — and he finally prodded his tip at your entrance, sliding in slowly with a low growl that reverberated in the tight bathroom stall. Fuck, it felt heavenly. He was able to fit inside you so perfectly, like you were moulded and made just for him. A whine ripped through your throat from both the pain and the pleasure of Adrien thrusting into you. He buried himself to the hilt, circling his hips when he was filly sheathed inside you before pulling out just to pound back into you which pulled out another moan from your lips. All these embarassing noises were saved for him. Just for him.

Adrien had pressed you so close to the wall that every so often the underside of your cock would brush against the cold wall, sending a shock of pleasure up your body. At first Adrien was confused, almost concerned how your body would jerk and his hips stuttered, unsure if he was hurting you. But he later found out the true reason behind it and a grin plastered across his face, "Is it too cold for you?" He cooed with faux concern, "I'll help you warm up," Adrien's voice dropped an octave as the hand that was placed at your nape snaked down to your cock, sliding it between the wall and your poor dick. The sudden warmth was no better, in-fact it was probably worse as now your cock was engulfed in the heat from Adrien's palm. Your mind began blanking when he slid this thumb over your slit, rubbing it repeatedly as he pounded into you from behind. The slow, gentle movement of his thumb contrasted with the harsh and fast thrusting of his hips which didn't help the overstimulation. "Adrien— not both," You whined, trying to pry his hands off your dick weakly but ultimately failing in the end as he pinned your hand back agaisnt the wall, intertwining your fingers with his, "You can take it, c'mon, I know you can," he groaned loving the way you squirmed, trying to escape from the pleasure but also not doing anything to seriously stop it.

Except... you couldn't take it. Adrien rolling his thumb over your tip while he hit your prostate at the same time made you see stars and you couldn't stop yourself from cumming on the spot; white fluid spurted onto the bathroom wall and your moan came out high pitched and shaky. Your voice had always been a turn-on for him so naturally he came too at the sight of you reaching your climax. His hips stuttered before he wrapped both arms around your waist, bear-hugging you as he held you close to his body while he stuffed you full.

The bathroom was now filled with heavy breathing and the slight musk of sweat and sex in the air. "Can you let go of me?" Your words broke the awkward silence and you found yourself unable to move from Adrien's iron grip, "Mm... I wanna stay like this," he groaned like a needy little kid, tightening his grip around your waist as if you were a teddy bear. Adrien grabbed your chin and turned it to the side, allowing him to lean in for a quick kiss which you groan at. He pulls up his swimming shorts and helps you put your clothes back on too, "Don't do that again if you still want your full ability to walk," Adrien warned before swinging the door open and walking out without turning back. Another frustrated groan leaves your throat as you follow him out but in the opposite direction with a slight limp.

"God, do you see him limping?" "What do you think he did for Adrien to beat him up like that?" "Damn, I hope he's okay, that looks like it hurts." You could hear the soft murmurs and whispers of your classmates when you walked out of the stall, they really were clueless, huh?

notes ,, long awaited... more adrien...

[amaranthineghost]

NOW IM BACK IN OUR EMPTY APARTMENT, LOOKING AT THE PIECES I WISH WERE YOU ( max verstappen. )

max verstappen x reader

an imperfect relationship between world champion max verstappen and a busy college student now filled with more tension as he fails to hold his tongue after a disappointing race.

authors note: love writing for max, i might have to do it more!!!

HE DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. it snowballed into something he had imagined before but never would've expected it actually happening to him. he could normally control his temper, especially when it came to her. sure, there was a few moments that stood out in his career when he had gone over the limit on certain occasions, going as far as to push another driver, but he would always separate his home life and his career.

at least he would try to. the australian grand prix hadn't played out like he had wanted, or anyone for that matter, because no one wants their car to get fucked and have to retire. especially on the third lap, it was just embarrassing. he was struggling the entire weekend, though his spirits temporarily lifted when he had managed to get pole position. he knew he would, but after the struggles throughout the practice sessions, he hadn't been too sure.

he just wished she would've been there to see it, but she was stuck in their apartment with their cats, jimmy and sassy. she had to do her college work, that was due all too soon, before she could go running around to his races. despite being financially supported by her talented boyfriend, she wanted things to do when he wasn't around, and while school work wasn't exactly many people's cup of tea, it was hers.

she liked the possibilities that came with the experience and maybe one day, she could land a job that would put her in line with her beloved driver. sure, she loved visiting the paddock as a wag, but she would love it more from behind the scenes. of course dating a driver, she already gets to see more than the average person, but she wanted to do something worthwhile with her time in the paddock.

he understood, but he had the only condition of letting him pay for her schooling. debt wasn't fun, and he wouldn't let her fall into that burden. besides, max would love to be able to see his girl working hard in the paddock, but now he wasn‘t so sure if she was his anymore.

he was agitated, she was stressed, and they both knew they didn't mix. they should’ve just waited to see each other in person, but they were both missing each other at the time.

she watched the race on the tv in their bedroom with her laptop on her lap with her latest, big assignment due in the next few days. she was struggling, and she figured it was better to get as much time to work on it as possible so she opted out of flying to australia. still, she watched, hardly stressed, because she knew max was an amazing driver.

but come the race on sunday, his dnf shocked her. she was riddled with worry and part of her wished she had been there. maybe if she had been, this whole thing could’ve been avoided, but the stress she felt now would’ve only worsened had she been with him.

upon the smoke trailing out of his car, hearing the commentators say he had dropped positions, seeing the puff of smoke when his car rolled down the pit lane, the fire on his brake duct, she shut her laptop instantly. now she was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing the screen closely, phone on standby to call him after. she leaned her head on her hands while her elbows dug into her legs.

she watched his tense answers to the media, his uninterested attitude because she knew all he wanted to do was get to his driver's room for peace and sulking. she knew and yet she still made the mistake of calling him right after.

she hadn’t waited long for him to answer, but he didn’t answer right away. hearing no answer from his side of the phone, she spoke first.

“hey,” she spoke as gently and nicely as she could.

“hey.” his voice was short and straightforward, as if he didn’t care about anything she was going to say.

finding the right words to say was like walking on eggshells and there wasn't a lot of room to go. she just hoped she took a step in the right direction when she asked him, “how are you doing?”

“what do you think?” she sighed, biting at the inside of her cheek

“not great,” she muttered, he hummed back in response, which just made her even more unsure of her next words, “ ‘m sorry you has to retire from the race.”

“sorry doesn’t fix the car,” she heard him mumble under his breath, earning a scoff from her.

“excuse me?” her tone was like she had accused him of something, “i get you’re mad right now max, but that doesn’t mean you can be an asshole. i’m just trying to help.”

he scoffed back and she could feel the eye roll he would’ve given her, “yeah, well you're not.”

“what is wrong with you?” she stood up, anger coursing through her.

“i don’t know, maybe the fact that my race was fucked and now you’re bitching to me about my attitude.”

she hadn’t thought before speaking, in moments of high stress she just said whatever she felt, and so did he. what she felt right now was annoyance and anger, “fuck you max,” was all she could spit back, taking a deep breath being speaking again. “news flash, you’re not the only person in the world dealing with shit, it's one race that you got out on, grow up.”

with that she hung up, and he heard the dial tone from his phone, regret beginning to seep past his clothes and into his skin, his nerves, his brain. he just majorly fucked up the most important thing in his life because to him she was more important than his career points, the car, the championship, his entire career, and he just threw her aside in the height of his anger.

he tried calling back immediately after he realized what he had just done, but it had just gone straight to voicemail. when that all failed, he spammed texts, or paragraphs more like, about how sorry he was and how she didn’t deserve the attitude he gave her, but it did nothing.

she sat and watched as the texts and missed calls flooded in. while she understood he was angry, it didn’t give him the right to talk to her like that so she left her phone unanswered while she had gotten up to pack. in less than a few hours, she knew max would be back in this apartment, probably on his knees, begging for forgiveness from her. she knew she would forgive him the moment he did so she wanted to get away before he could.

it didn’t take long, she hadn’t packed her entire life away, but a single suitcase and carry-on bag was enough to last her until she decided to patch things over. taking one last look over her shoulder, one last pet of their cats before she had closed the door behind her. knocking on the apartment door of their neighbors to ask them to care for the felines like they did whenever he left for races and she went alongside him.

but in recent months, moreso in the 2023 season, she found herself attending fewer races than she used to because of the growing tension and stress between the pair. it didn't help that they didn't talk it through, they couldn't because they didn't have the time. she had college, he had formula one, and they both had no time to meet in the middle to amend whatever was broken before. whatever was broken remained as such and only cracked further as time went on and the pressure increased.

they knew they should've come together and met in the middle, but they were both petty and too stubborn. it was another reason they clashed, but they also just worked so well.

he was hoping this was going to be the one time they could've found that time to talk, to sit down and have a deep conversation that lasted hours, that they would've ended up getting side-tracked from and begun to talk about random topics, like they used to. laying on her back with her head in his lap and his fingers through her hair as they laughed at funny memories, or moments they had experienced together.

but when he came home to a quiet, empty apartment, he knew. he knew he shouldn't have hoped for something that was unlikely to happen. his cats rubbed against his legs as he walked about the apartment. dirty dishes that had yet to be washed sitting in the sink, blankets unfolded in the couch and doors left open. the air was stale without her presence and he was left to wallow in it. her absence was a sting against his skin as he kicked off his shoes, seeing a couple pairs less than what there usually was, hanging up his coat alone because hers were now gone.

everything was a reminder if how he had treated her, the words he spat like venom all because he had retired from a single race. he can't stop hearing her venomous last words to him, her tone was like he was the scum on the bottom of her shoe. he might’ve well have been because he sure felt like he was. a piece of trash for the way he spoke, granted he was angry, but he didn't have the right, he never would have the right to talk to her like that.

the floorboards creaked under him, cutting through the silence only interrupted by the sounds of his clothes brushing together as he walked. he peered into the various rooms of the house, seeing half the items she would normally have that had been left behind. pieces of her he was left to further sulk with.

it was cruel, but he understood cruel was what he deserved. he deserved seeing the messy, unmade bed that remained empty for hours after she left. covers pulled back like she had just gotten up to see him, except she hadn't.

she was gone, and he hadn't known where, or if she would even come back. he could only hope that she wished to mend their cracked and shattered relationship as much as he wanted now.

he could only hope.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs @thearchieves

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || hoody

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. remember when i talked about this hoody fic 509 years ago? yeah here it is. also yeS i am aware masky & hoody belong to marble hornets this is the only time im going to address this💀 we are in 2024 in this fandom WE KNOW. anyways enjoy !! <3

If there was anything you could’ve changed about your life, you had a particular decision in mind.

Being a desperate college student for cash, babysitting and dog walking wasn’t paying the off the debt you were accumulating.

You had scoured Craigslist, confident that there would be an odd job you’d be able to accomplish for quick cash.

Looking back you wish you had known quick cash wouldn’t come easy.

A posting offering $5k a week fell into your lap about a week later. The details seemed easy enough. The ability to clean an older mansion, whilst keeping the identities of the multiple infamous residents that resided there a secret seemed like a piece of cake.

What the posting didn’t list, was that the infamous residents were unhinged killers. Some of which you couldn’t even categorize as human.

It also didn’t list that your position would be residing in the mansion, permanently.

Being a maid in the Slenderman mansion was, in lack of better words: fucking terrifying.

The residents operated at odd hours. No matter what time you cleaned, you always received the displeasure of running into someone.

The longer you stayed, the longer paranoia began to settle in. Ben Drowned, the poster of the Craigslist ad, was a perv. You learned to stray away from electronic devices he could peep his head through. Jeff the killer, one of the most unhinged, had a short temper. He was one of the first ones to opt out of having his room cleaned by you, a decision you silently praised after walking by and seeing how filthy it was.

The next to opt out with a demonic creature named Eyeless Jack, one who specifically requested you stay out of his medical lab. Given all of the blood and goop you had mopped up at this point, a fear of being eaten led you to offering to clean it regardless. EJ knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it, given his ‘hobbies’ were the most gore filled of the mansions residents. It didn’t surprise him when you left the lab green, puking immediately in a bucket he had placed beside the door for you.

The other members whose names you were obligated to memorize, Jane, Clockwork, Jason the something maker, all were rarely home. You learned to steer clear of Jason’s workshop, the dolls he made often speaking to you as if they had souls. The only three other residents who lived in the mansion full time (minus its owner), were what you learned to be proxies. These proxies, two of them at least, seemed to be human just like you.

Ticci Toby’s mortality was still up in the air for you. He once had tripped and fallen after you had mopped the floors, landing on the marble face first. He got up like nothing happened, giggling to himself about ‘how wet you made the floor’. After observing him throw axes in the training room, you decided to steer clear of him.

Masky seemed to be the trio’s leader, his face consistently hidden behind a doll resembling mask. He avoided you like the plague, skipping the formalities and acting as if you didn’t exist. You never asked questions, not knowing how long anyone had truly been here. But Masky in particular seemed a bit older than everyone, when you accidentally stumbled upon him coming home late one night from a mission. His nose was trailing blood, his mask broken in half. You ensured to avoid eye contact, but extended a wet washcloth to him so he could attend to his nose.

After that your dynamic remained the same for the most part. Except when both of you occupied a room together, neither of you made an effort to beeline to the door.

Hoody was the last proxy, the one that made you more at ease than the others. Hoody had spoken a grand total of maybe ten words to you, introducing himself and Masky before dashing out of the back door. The only time you really saw him was when you cleaned his room, the man doing a poor job of pretending to read magazines while you cleaned. Other than that, you only caught glimpses of the proxies when they came home in the late hours of the night from missions.

Most of the time they were soaked in blood. In a couple of odd occasions you had to assist them in carrying one another up to Eyeless Jack’s medical lab. You couldn’t figure out why the proxies were here, two humans not seeming to fit in with the rest of misfits that resided here. You had no idea soon enough you’d be up close and personal.

Late night was when you preferred to clean, most of the killers away from the mansion and out hunting. The existence of the residents here only existed because of their dedication to keep their identities a secret. Night time was the perfect cover, for them and for you. You were leaning over the kitchen sink, scrubbing at a particular stubborn pot when you heard the back door open. You tried very hard not to stare, not wanting to gain unwanted attention.

You glanced up briefly, catching a glance of Toby’s and Masky’s familiar figures as they trudged upstairs. “He cost us that fucking mission, Slender’s gonna be so pissed off,” Masky growled, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Toby trailed behind him, an axe dripping blood slung over his shoulder. “Y-yeah, what w-w-was he thinking?!” Toby exclaimed, his stuttering something you had grown accustomed to. You noted Hoody’s absence, your eyebrows raising as you returned your gaze to the pot.

The sound of doors slamming echoed through out the other wise quiet mansion, the silence fulfilling you with some sort of ease. It didn’t take long for the final proxy to stumble into frame, his hand cupping his face. You weren’t forbidden from interacting with the mansions residents, your urge to help sweeping over you. Hoody was awkwardly stumbling, immediately leaning onto you for support as you helped him stay standing.

“I got it,” He huffed. His usual ski mask was half raised, the bottom half of his face revealed to you for the first time. His chin and upper lip had surprisingly clean cut facial hair, kept to a minimum. You guided him around the counter, helping him sit onto the kitchen counter by the sink. Hastily he shoved his yellow hood off of his head, yanking the ski mask off with it. You were surprised a normal human being stared back at you, a large gash sliced across his cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered. You grabbed a clean wash cloth, running it under cold water. “Didnt ask for your commentary doll,” Hoody said dryly. You swallowed, wringing out the excess water. You could’ve done what you did with Masky, handing him the washcloth and wishing him a silent farewell. But instead you didn’t. “Sorry,” You mumbled. You craved human contact, any kind of human contact. Brushing off your skirt you stepped in between his legs, leaning forward.

You were careful to avoid eye contact, focusing on dabbing the wound. Hoody silently winched under the feeling, inhaling through his teeth. As gently as you could you dabbed away the blood. “Do you want me to get EJ?” You asked. Hoody’s face was stone cold, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye anyways. “Dont bother, i’m sure he’s sick of patching us up all the time,” He grumbled. The wound didn’t look deep, just very long. Thankfully most of the blood was gone, the rest of his face covered in specs of dry blood (that you presumed to not be his) and dirt.

Turning on the sink you washed out the washcloth, the crimson paint drifting off down the drain with the water. You then returned to Hoody, wiping off his face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to be so compassionate, Hoody’s eyes fluttering shut. He took a deep breath, his shoulders seemingly relaxing. You were gentle of course, not wanting to piss the killer in front of you off. But even Hoody knew your action wasn’t callous.

Once you were done you awkwardly stepped aside, putting the rag in the sink. “You want a cig?” Hoody asked. He dug in his jeans, pulling out a beat up cigarette box. “Is this your way of showing gratitude?” You asked. The man in front of you smiled, extending you the box. “This right here is the only kind of buzz you’re getting around here doll,” He explained, allowing himself to half smile. You had never smoked a cigarette before, nor had you really planned on it. Not like it mattered now.

You put one to your lips like people did in movies, watching Hoody do the same. He pulled out a lighter, flicking it and igniting the end of his cigarette. You leaned forward, watching Hoody attempt to flick the lighter again. The flame refused to ignite, the sight of small sparks making him sigh. “Masky always takes the good lighters,” He muttered. He inhaled his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the right. You found the gesture of attempting to not violate you with smoke a little sweet.

“Well I appreciate the offer. I’ve never smoked a cigarette anyways,” You admit. Hoody shook his head. “That just won’t do then. Put it to your lips and stay still,” He ordered. You did as instructed, watching him lean closer to you. His fingers went under your chin, keeping your head held high. You felt your face beginning to burn, the end of his cigarette lighting yours as you inhaled. You both avoided each others gazes, until the second he began to back away.

For a brief moment you shared eye contact, searching each other’s eyes. For what? You didn’t know. You properly inhaled, coughing immediately. “You guys like this stuff?” You asked in between coughs, continuing to choke. Hoody nonchalantly took another drag of his, watching you struggle. “It’ll grow on you, trust me. I didn’t like it at first either,” He confessed. Once you regained strength in your lungs you properly stood up. Hoody remained seated on the kitchen counter, with you standing beside him.

“How long have you been here?” You asked curiously. You were stepping over a hundred boundaries, ones you could die for if you stepped over the line too far. “A while,” Hoody answered honestly. You took another drag of your cigarette, the taste of tobacco growing on you. “How long are you going to be here?” Hoody countered. You exhaled, glancing back at the proxy. He had exhaled through his nose, boldly making eye contact with you.

“A while.”

You found the courage to turn around, facing him fully. “You aren’t lonely?” You asked. Hoody gave you a smile, tossing the bud of his cigarette into the nearby trashcan. “I am, are you?” He asked curiously. You followed his lead, tossing the bud of the cigarette into the trashcan. If it set the kitchen on fire, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. “Yeah I am,” You admit. Hoody slid off of the counter, his tall height towering over you.

“Do you uh, wanna change that?” He asked. For a killer who had a victims blood splattered across his face moments ago, he seemed so awkward. You wondered how long it had been since he had been with a woman. How long would it be before you could be with a man again? “Please,” You sighed. Hoody kissed you just as rough as you expected, both of you melting into the other. Both of you were undeniably needy, touch depraved and lonely. You were sure this was forbidden for both of you but as his tongue slid into your mouth, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“Call me Brian but only when it’s us, okay? Thats not who I am anymore but that’s who I want to be with you, okay?” Hoody asked. You nodded, the normal name bringing your comfort. Brian’s hand snaked down your waist, squeezing and kneading at the flesh of your ass. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound only making him harder. There was no telling how much longer you’d be around, the residents of the mansion unhinged enough to snap at any moment.

You couldn’t fully undress here and going upstairs was out of the question. “This has to be quick, we can’t get caught,” You whispered. Brian nodded, slipping his hand up your skirt. He rubbed against your wet cunt, your panties preventing any further stimulation. Brian had zero control over his life but he did right here, right now. You had no control over yours either, the decision to fuck each other to release steam the only free will decision either of you could make. You palmed him through his jeans, his cock practically busting through the fabric.

He guided you to the counter, grabbing the sides of your panties and yanking them down to your ankles. He shoved them into his pocket for what you thought to be safe temporary keeping. But Brian had other ideas.

“Fuck, please, wanna feel you Brian,” You whispered, trying hard to not groan loudly. Brian quickly undid his belt bringing his lips back to yours. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, your soft lips driving him mad. It wasn’t long before his cock was at your entrance, awkwardly shuffling with his jeans at his ankles. He fell a bit backwards, causing you to laugh. “Fucking hell, sorry-” He began apologizing. You giggled, hopping off of the counter.

You brought him fully to the ground, pushing his back against the oven. “This might work better,” You replied, lowering yourself down onto his cock. Brian’s cock felt like heaven, your mouth falling open. Both of you let out a sigh of relief. You had no way to masturbate, no way to possibly release the stressful tension building inside of you. As you pressed your forehead against Brian’s, you realized that this was what you got. This was your outlet.

Brian’s gloved hands met your waist, helping you roll your hips. You let out a loud groan, one of his hands flying to your mouth. “Shh, you can’t make any noise,” Brian warned, your inability to stay composed only making him more hot and bothered. He took control, guiding your hips to ride him at a pace that worked for both of you. You were as wet as a virgin, your body yearning for more as Brian abused your g spot. Your sinful moans were muffled by his gloved hand, his other attempting to guide you.

He brought himself close to your ear. “If you wanna get off, you’re gonna have to ride me by yourself mkay? Do that and i’ll play with that pretty clit of yours doll,” He huffed, trying to control his own noises. You nodded yes profusely, trying to concentrate on grinding your hips against his. With his spare hand he found your clit, drawing sloppy circles around it. For a brief moment he was worried about his ‘skills’ not having slept with a woman in years. Whether he was good or bad at it, you didn’t appear to give a shit. You were still a panting mess, your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat.

Your walls clenched tighter around Brian as you felt yourself closer to euphoria, your eyes fluttering shut. With your forehead pressed to his you pawed at his hoodie, grabbing handfuls as your orgasm washed over you. Your sinful noises were muted by Brian’s hand, the muffled sounds music to his ears that he had made you feel that good. Your walls fluttering around him triggered his own orgasm, his cum flooding inside of you. He dropped his hand from your mouth, both of you taking a moment to breathe.

In a moment of true loneliness you leaned against Brian’s shoulder, ignoring the faint smell of dried blood and sweat. Unsurely Brian stroked your hair, trying to remember if that was comforting or not. He licked his dry lips, a bold question on the tip of his tongue.

“You wanna share a cigarette again tomorrow?”

[angelltheninth]

Wuthering Waves Men Fingering You

Pairing: Geshu Lin, Jiyan, Rover, Aalto, Mortefi, Calcharo, Yuanwu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, fingering, praise, neck kissing, clit stimulation, teasing, orgasm control, edging, slight hand and finger kink

A/N: Ahem... hello new obsession.

Geshu Lin will go hard it hurts on occasion but the pleasure is always that much greater. What's more he knows what you sound like when you've had enough, he wants to hear you when you've had too much so he can add a third finger in and hear you begging him to slow down because you feel like you're gonna break if you come again. Good, he'll be sure to put you back together as well, as soon as you come undone around his fingers one more time.

Jiyan is attentive and often tend to start very gentle and ease you into a more brutal pace befitting General of Midnight Rangers. Despite this roughness he will keep his other touches sweet and encouraging to you, urging you to meet his movements, making your pussy ask for more, for one more long, rough finger to be shoved deep into it. He doesn't tease you unless you have to wait for an orgasm, he prefers to witness your pleasure as often as possible.

Rover is slightly mischievous in bed as opposed to his more serious attitude on the battlefield. When he's in bed with you he doesn't have to think, he only has to know how to best make you moan and squirt all over his hand as he slams his fingers into your cunt. Fingering you, having you call his name stirs up such wondaful feelings in him, he never wants to let them go, he never wants to let you go, not even when you sleep afterwards.

Aalto often gets extremely playful and slightly mean in the way that edges you, circling your hard clit with the pad of his thumb while slowly pulling his fingers in and out. Making people squirm is part of his job as an information broker, he has to be good at getting what he wants from people when he wants it. What he wants from you right now is to keep looking into his eyes as he makes you see stars, as he makes you come.

Mortefi has so much passion for you and he wants you to be completely consumed by it as he is consumed by his lust for you every day. Just one orgasm isn't enough, just watching you come isn't enough. He needs to feel it, he needs to feel your pulse quicken under his lips as he kisses your neck, he needs to feel your body arch into his, he needs to feel your pussy clenching around his fingers and hear your lips repeatedly say his name.

Calcharo can never have enough of your pussy squeezing around his cock or fingers. He will wake you up by licking your clit and fingering you until you're fully awake and then he will smirk as you tell him to stop holding back and add not just one but two more fingers and make your head spin. Loves the sound of your pussy getting sloppy and wet from being fucked, the wet mess you make on the bed and you haven't even finished yet, but you will as soon as he orders it.

Yuanwu slowly circles your clit until you can't take it anymore and push his hand further down to your slick cunt. He huffs out a laugh against your ear, you're lucky he thinks you're cute when you're needy otherwise he would opt to discipline you like you were one of his students. But seeing as you're his lover he gives you what you need right now, his fingers moving swiftly between your spread and shaking legs.

[tsuutarr]

I Want to Pepper You In Kisses

Pairing: Arven x GN!Reader

Word count: 10K

Genres: fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint

Summary: Somehow, Arven’s journey to find Herba Mystica ended with him falling in love with you.

Before Arven falls in love with you, he’s not entirely sure what to make of you. He honestly finds you a nuisance, along with that hyperactive student council president. Seeing the brute out and about feeds into his annoyance, too. 

“What’re you doing out here?!” he yells, pointing an accusatory finger at the Pokémon his parent loved more than they loved him.

“Hey, please don’t get too angry – this sweetheart here helped me out,” you say.

Arven scoffs. “I’m not talking to you two. You can shove off.”

He expects you to get angry then and leave, but you don’t. Instead, your gaze softens for some unknown reason and he can’t maintain eye contact, so he looks away.

Then, the stupid student council president mentions his relation to the “great professor,” making anger course through his veins.

“It doesn’t matter who my parent is!” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed into a glare as he tries to fight the bitterness rising in his chest. “The real issue here is what in the world this Pokémon is doing out here. And what’s with this form it’s in?”

“See, we heard this strange cry, and we tried to investigate it, but…” Nemona begins.

“But I fell off a cliff.” You give a small shrug with an awkward grin. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“And as mentioned earlier, this Pokémon came to the rescue!” Nemona beams. “But it seems like it wore itself out in the process. It got kinda… slumpy afterward. But you shoulda seen it before! It looked totally different – it was unbelievably strong!”

“Well, yeah. As it should be. But it can’t fight while it’s like this. The form you saw it take in battle – that’s its true form.”

“Heh,” you pat the brute’s head lovingly and Arven briefly wonders how your fingers would feel ruffling through his hair. He quickly shoves the thought from his mind. “You’re quite strong, huh?”

“...I don’t remember ever seeing you around. But given the uniform… You go to the academy too, do you?” he asks, making you nod. “Well, that brute isn’t the sort of Pokémon any old trainer can hope to command. It’s special.”

“Well, it definitely does seem that way,” you agree amicably as if he didn’t just insult your fighting prowess. Why aren’t you mad? Why aren’t you ignoring him? Why aren’t you… Ugh. He’s really not used to it and maybe that’s why he asks his next question.

“You think you’re up to ordering it around? Then how ‘bout I test your worthiness?”

You pause, seemingly surprised at his offer. You make eye contact with the brute who blinks at you, before cuddling its head into your side lovingly. You can’t help but laugh as you agree to battle him.

“I’ve been feeling all out of sorts, so I’m gonna use this battle to blast these doldrums away!” he announces, throwing out his newly caught Skowvet. He’s not really sure what outcome he expected, but he definitely didn’t expect you to absolutely pulverize him in battle.

“Good job,” you murmur sweetly as your starter Pokémon hops over to you, nuzzling your hand as you pet it. Arven can’t help but think about how warm your eyes look then, but he quickly glances away, afraid of being caught. You glance at Arven, who’s withdrawing his Pokémon into its ball. Smiling at him, you approach him, offering your hand. “Good battle.”

He doesn’t take it, instead opting to shove his Poké Ball back into his pocket. “I guess I wasn’t ever going to stand a chance using some Pokémon I’d only just caught…” he mutters. “But if you really think you can take that brute off my hands for me… you’ll need this. It’s its Poké Ball.”

You take it with a nod and a smile. “Thank you.”

Arceus, he’s really not used to people being nice to him. Or smiling. Or anything, really, so the softness in your expression throws him off wholly, making his ears feel hot. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “that thing’s your problem now, not mine. Good luck.”

“Mhm,” you agree. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says dumbly, “Uh. See you around, I guess.”

“See you!”

Arceus, he’s really not sure what to make of you.

His stance on your existence is further complicated as rumors about you seem to float around the school. He’s positive that the Academy has new students all the time, but for some reason you seem to stand out – and what’s this about you fighting Team Star? You’re definitely having some kind of day. Falling off a cliff, getting pawned an annoying Pokémon, beating up some Team Star grunt… you just seem to attract trouble.

Trouble…

An idea pops up in his head.

The next time he sees you, it’s during lunchtime. He notices you almost immediately and he tries to ignore the implications of that. He’s surprised to not see the annoying student council president next to you, but he takes it as his opportunity and slides up next to you as you browse the food selection in the cafeteria. “Oh, hey!” he catches your attention and you turn to him with a tilt of your head. He half expects your face to morph into one of disappointment but it doesn’t and it makes him feel… soft. Weird. He shoves the feeling down. “You remember me, right?”

You raise an inquisitive eyebrow, your lips twitching upwards. “I don’t think we’ve met…”

He must’ve made an odd expression, because a laugh jumps out of your throat.

“I’m kidding. From the lighthouse?’

“Yeah, exactly!” Arven feels oddly cozy. “That’s my little know-it-all buddy. Got a mind like a steel trap, eh?”

You blink at him, before saying, “I wouldn’t say that,” with a snort. “Ah, but I don’t think I’ve introduced myself –”

“Don’t worry about it.” Arven says your name. “That’s your name, right? The whole school seems to be talking about you. The new kid who showed up as the president of the student council.”

You scrunch up your nose a little at that. “I didn’t think I’d stand out that much.”

You stand out for a lot of reasons, Arven wanted to say, but instead says, “I normally wouldn’t even bother showing up for class, but I came all the way to school today just to talk to you, actually. Our new celebrity. You’ve gotta help me out so I can finally make my dream a reality!”

“Happy to help!” you respond, making him blink.

“Uh? What kind of little maniac says yes to something without knowing what they’re agreeing to?!”

“Well, you said it’s your dream, right?” you offer him a smile. “I dunno, I guess I’ve always admired people with dreams. Don’t really have any myself, so…” you give him a shrug. “What’s this dream?”

Your kindness makes him feel a little sick. He’s using you and you’re willing to be used – but before guilt can really settle in, he nods. Arven begins his spiel about picnics and sandwiches and health foods and he knows he’s rambling but you listen patiently. “...So. That’s the gist.” He rubs the nape of his neck. “I really want to get those herbs myself, but… I’m not very good at Pokémon battles. Don’t have any friends with strong Pokémon to lend me a hand, either.” Well, he didn’t really have friends, period, but he wasn’t going to say that. “And I’d never hear the end of it if I went crawling to that student council girl.” Arven inhales. “But then you waltz up! You’ve got to help me out with this – you’d be perfect!”

“Well–”

“Nope! Wait! I don’t need an answer yet! I’ll just register the places where it seems there might be Titans in your map app for you.” 

You laugh. “Well, I’ve pretty much made my decision, but okay.”

“Just let it stew a bit,” Arven insists. “And we can get more into the details later.”

“Gotcha,” you nod. “I’ll get some food in the meantime. Wanna join?”

“I have places to be,” Arven responds. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right, fine by me. See you!”

When Arven leaves the cafeteria, he regrets not taking you up on your offer. But he pushes the thought away, fiddling with the old Poké Ball in his pocket – he has places to be.

When he sees you again, he almost groans in annoyance at seeing Nemona with you. Surely chattering on about battles. Again.

“Hey, little buddy!” he yells, running up to you both. Arven gives you a little nod of acknowledgement, before narrowing his eyes at Nemona. “Tch. How’s that for a student council president! Giving your own friends an insider advantage?”

You stand, an amused expression on your face, as Arven and Nemona argue.

“I can do both, you know.” You finally say, trying to appease them. Pulling out your Rotom Phone, you show them the places marked on your map app. “See? They’re all pretty close to each other. I’ll do them all as I tackle Paldea.”

“So you’ll challenge the gyms?” Nemona asks, a sparkle in her eyes. As you nod, she cheers. “En serio? How exciting!”

“...Tch, fine. As long as you help me tackle the Titans, I guess.” Arven relents. “Well, I’m outta here. Catch up soon, little buddy!”

You laugh. “I will!”

Arven won’t admit it, but his steps feel lighter at your agreement to help him.

---

The first time Arven falls in love with you, he doesn’t even realize he’s fallen. Instead, he recognizes the overwhelming sense of relief at seeing you run up to him.

“Hey, Arven!”

“Hey,” he says, his tense shoulders relaxing by seeing your smile.

“How’ve you been?”

“Eh, the usual,” he responds, before awkwardly tacking on, “You?”

“Heh, I’ve been good,” you respond. “You ready to look for the Stony Cliff Titan?”

Arven snorts. “You’re more excited than me.”

“What can I say?” your gaze is so kind as you look at him that it makes his cheeks warm. “I want to help you achieve your dream.”

“All right, all right,” he huffs, though he can’t help the smile that sneaks up on his face. “Let’s split up then, yeah? It should be around this area, but we can cover more ground this way.”

“Sounds good to me! Call me if you find it, okay?”

“‘Course,” Arven responds. “Same to you!”

He hadn’t expected to hear from you so fast. “Arven!” you exclaim, “I found it – whoa, dodge that!” you command as a rock hurtles towards your Pokémon. “Yeesh, this thing is huge!”

“I’m on my way!” he hurriedly says, worry lacing his voice. He couldn’t help it – you were battling a Titan by yourself. You guys were supposed to fight it together! 

“Hah, don’t hurt yourself while rushing over here,” you laugh with ease and he’s surprised at how much your voice calms him down. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Despite your words of assurance, he finds himself rushing to you. He can’t let you get hurt so early in the hunt, after all. 

When he gets to where you are, you’ve already done a lot of damage to the Titan. His mouth gapes in surprise at the huge size of the Pokémon, as well how cheery you are as you wave at him. “Hey, Arven!” you beam.

“Behind you!” he yells, and you hurriedly turn your attention back to the battle, commanding your Pokémon to counterattack. He won’t lie – you look kind of cool like this. Like a hero. His hero. Arceus, that’s embarrassing, Arven thinks, burying that thought deep into the crevices of his brain.

“Thanks!”

“No problem, but… that’s the Stony Cliff Titan? No Klawf has got any business being that big!” 

“Agreed,” you laugh, before tilting your head as you see the Klawf scrambling away. “Uh… Where’s it going?”

“It’s heading inside that cave…?” Arven’s eyes widen when the Klawf scrambles back outside with something in its hand.

“Do you think that’s–”

“A Herba Mystica!”

You and Arven watch as the Klawf gobbles the herb and it begins to glow, shaking with some immense power.

“You think it’s gonna be even stronger now, after eating all those herbs? Let’s watch ourselves!”

“You got it!” you nod. “I trust you to have my back!”

Arven can feel ears warm again as he tosses out his Shellder. You trusted him? You actually trusted him to have your back. Well, he can admit the feeling is mutual, at least. And, he won’t admit it to you, but watching you battle is riveting. The way your eyes shine, the confidence in your directions, you standing by his side – it makes his heart beat so fast he isn’t sure what to do with himself.

Adrenaline is still pumping through his veins when you’ve defeated the Titan, making his limbs feel jittery. His heart beats even faster as you turn to him, eyes crinkled at the sides as you raise your hand for a high five. Cute, he thinks as his palm makes contact with yours.

“We did it!” you cheer.

“Yeah,” he feels kind of breathless, but he can’t help the wide smile that overtakes his features. “Look at you – my little buddy; coming through like a champ!”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you respond, and Arven’s heart warms because he knows you could’ve done it without him. You’re so much better than him, after all.

He shakes his head at the thought, feeling his heart jolt painfully.

“These Titan Pokémon are… yeesh. I sure don’t like having something so tough out to get me.”

“Don’t worry!” When your laugh resounds again, Arven wonders how you can be so happy. “If they come for you, I’ll get them.”

His face heats up again as he clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m sure there’s more Herba Mystica somewhere back there – quick, let’s have a look before it comes back.”

You follow after Arven, asking, “Which one do you think we’ll find?”

“According to the book, it’s the Sweet Herba Mystica–”

“Whoa!” you trip, making Arven act faster than he thought possible. He grabs your arm as you stabilize yourself.

“Watch your step, it’s pretty dark,” Arven murmurs, removing his hand from your arm. He clenches his hand, still feeling your lingering warmth.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say.

“Nah, don’t apologize.” Arven pauses. “Uh, and if it helps… you can, uh, grab onto my vest or something.”

“I’ll take you up on that, actually,” you huff out a laugh, fingers gently grabbing the back of his vest. Arceus why did he offer this? He feels like he’s gonna die from how fast his heart is beating. Now he has to deal with making sure you both don’t trip and the thought makes him nervous (which is definitely, definitely the only reason his heart is beating so fast).

Before Arven can dwell in his thoughts for too long, his feet stop, making you bump into his back.

“Oof!”

 Arven wants to apologize, but he can’t as his throat constricts at the sight of the pink herb glimmering in the dark. “It’s – it’s real. It’s real!” He feels like crying, but he holds it in, taking in a shaking breath. “Let’s see… The book says that the Sweet Herba Mystica is good for gut health and that it helps aid digestion. Says it’s good for stomach aches, too, or when you want to stimulate an appetite!”

“Heh, that battle stimulated my appetite enough,” you hum and Arven can’t help but agree.

“...Now, if I can just get him to eat some…”

You look at him curiously, but don’t pry, which he’s grateful for.

“All right! Now it’s my turn to show off what I can do. You’re about to get a taste of my cooking!”

“Looking forward to it!” you respond and Arven can feel a grin come on his face as he prepares to cook.

He first learned how to cook all those years ago because he was the only one who could take care of himself. His parent was always too busy to take care of him, after all, so he could only really rely on himself and Mabosstiff. Well, it worked out in the end – him cooking turned out to be a good enough bribe for you to help him, which he really didn’t expect. He was so used to expecting people to help him and no one coming through, so you being there felt odd. But it wasn’t a bad thing, really. He… just hopes you’ll be able to stick around till the end. Just until he can get all the herbs, at least.

Somehow, the thought that you won’t talk to him after you get all the herbs kind of bothers him.

“Here you go!” Arven announces, trying to rid himself of his thoughts. He hands you the plate with a sandwich on it.

“Oh, that looks delicious!” you beam, making his heart swell with pride.

“It’s an Arven-original sandwich packed full of herbs! And–” he digs through his pocket, handing you something that looks like a badge. “–I’ll even give you this. It’s called a Titan Badge. I modeled it after the gym badges.”

You let out a whistle. “This looks genuine,” you marvel. “You’re really good with your hands.”

“Nah, it’s really nothing,” he bashfully says, but the moment is interrupted as the brute springs out of its Poké Ball. “What’s up with that thing? It just comes out of its ball whenever it wants?”

“I guess?” you respond, patting your Pokémon lovingly. It purrs underneath your touch, before sniffing at your sandwich.

“Hey now,” Arven says. “That’s not for you.”

Even as Arven says that, you give the sandwich to the brute, making Arven sigh. He’s starting to think you’re a complete pushover.

“Hey! I went through all the trouble of making that for you, and you just give it away? I hope you realize that’s all there was, so now there’s none left for you.”

“Oh.” You hum in thought. “That’s fine, don’t worry. Sorry about giving your sandwich away, though.”

Your kind gaze makes Arven heave out another sigh. “Aw, come on! Now you’re making me feel bad,” he grumbles without any real bite. He cuts his own sandwich in half, offering it to you.

“Oh, you really don’t have to–”

“Just take it,” he responds. “You fought hard, y’know. You should eat.”

“...Thanks.” You take the sandwich from him. He watches you expectantly as you take a huge bite and he’d be lying if he wasn’t absolutely ecstatic when he sees your eyes light up. “This is good!”

“Heh, I’m glad you think so!” he boasts, pleased, before he looks at your Pokémon. “Hey… is it just me or has your brute–”

You clear your throat.

“–your partner gotten… stronger?”

“I think so,” you tilt your head. “You think you got stronger, ‘Don?”

“Agias!” it responds, making you laugh.

He stares at the way you two interact with each other and there’s this twinge of something that stabs at him. At one point, that was how he and his Mabosstiff interacted.

“Arven?” you ask him, cautiously. 

He swallows. “The power of these herbs is really something! If they had that big of an effect on your Pokémon, then I bet…” he trails off. “I’ll start cleaning up – don’t worry about it!” he waves you away when you approach him to help. “You’ve done more than enough by defeating that Titan Pokémon. Leave the rest to me. Just… if you can, it’d be great if you could get started on searching out the other Herba Mystica for us.”

“You got it,” you salute. “See you, Arven. Thanks again for the sandwich!”

He watches as you disappear out of the cave, whispering, “I really owe you one.” He inhales, before carefully letting his Mabosstiff out. It’s been a while since Arven’s heard Mabosstiff’s bark, but he still can’t help the disappointment that settles in his bones when he sees that all his partner can do is heave labored breaths. Gently, Arven combs his fingers through Mabosstiff’s thick fur. “Hey, buddy,” he murmurs. “You think you can eat this for me?”

Mabosstiff merely whines in response and Arven can feel his heart clench uncomfortably.

“It’s okay, bud.” Arven breaks off small chunks of the sandwich, feeding them to Mabosstiff one by one, carefully watching Mabosstiff’s reaction. 

Mabosstiff, the sweet friend that he is, slowly but surely eats what Arven offers. 

“You know,” Arven says, scratching behind Mabosstiff’s ear. “I actually made this with someone else.”

In response to Arven’s words, Mabosstiff nuzzles into Arven’s knee. It’s a soft gesture that makes tears well up in Arven's eyes.

“Yeah, I just met them recently but… they’ve agreed to help me help you,” Arven begins, still gently patting his Pokémon. Arven begins talking about how strong you are and how pretty you are when you smile. How cool you are when you fight. Recounting stories about you, little snippets about how you laugh or how you say certain words, makes Arven’s heart feel strangely warm and before he knows it, Mabosstiff has been lulled to sleep, paws warmer than before.

---

The second time Arven falls in love with you, he’s so overwhelmed by your kindness that he doesn’t realize he’s in love.

“Second Titan down!” you cheer, holding up your hand for another high five. Arven can’t help but grin back, hitting your palm with his. There’s a pleasant tingle that spreads out across his palm.

“You were amazing there, y’know?” he says, adjusting his bag, which makes you peer at him curiously.

“Isn’t that heavy?”

“Nah, I’ve been lugging this thing for a while, so…” he shakes his head, tilting his chin towards the direction of the cave. “Let’s get goin’ before the Titan comes back for seconds.”

“You got it!” you agree, following after Arven.

“If we’re lucky, there’ll be another herb here…”

“Over there!” you point, making the both of you run to it.

“It’s a Herba Mystica!” Arven grins, looking at the green herb. “Thanks, really. If I can just get him to eat this…” his voice turns quiet as he gazes at the herb in silence. It’s the second herb out of five and Arven desperately, desperately hopes this will do something to help Mabosstiff.

“Arven…”

He lightly smacks his cheeks with his hands, trying to get rid of his negative thoughts. “Okay, let me whip something up for us!” 

“...Okay,” you say softly with a smile. “Waiting for a good meal, chef.”

“You can count on it!” he responds as he gets ready to cook. It’s something he’s noticed lately, but sometimes he thinks about you while he’s cooking. It’s kinda embarrassing since you’re right there, but he can’t really help it. He didn’t think you’d pull through for a second time, which, maybe he shouldn’t have doubted you, but years of disappointment made it hard for him to expect things from anyone that isn’t him. Still, he’s so grateful because really, no matter how good his cooking is, there’s no reason to help him. After all, it wasn’t like you considered him a friend or anything yet, right…? 

It would be nice if you did, though.

“All right, all done!” Arven announces. “Here you go! My special, whimsical, herb-filled super sandwich! And it comes with a Titan Badge!”

“I’m still impressed with how good these look.”

“Heh, I’m glad you – aw, come on! You again?” Arven groans, seeing your brutish partner pop out. It nuzzles into your side again, looking at you with big doe eyes as it begs for your sandwich. The brute took his parent, and now it’s trying to take you, too? He can’t help but feel a little jealous – wait. Jealous? Why would he feel jealous…? Arven shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. Still, he can’t help but pout when the Pokémon looks at him and mewls. “...Hmph. Is it trying to say thanks or something?”

“Maybe,” you laugh. “It really liked your sandwich. I’m not a bad cook or anything, but ‘Don will longingly stare in the distance sometimes when it eats my cooking – probably thinking about yours, heh.”

Arven clears his throat to tamper out the embarrassment that he’s feeling. “Well, it’s a good thing I made extra, then.”

“Oh?” there’s a teasing glint in your eyes that makes his cheeks flush.

“I just made extra ‘cause you’ve been helpin’ me a lot!” there’s a small frown on his face, though it’s not malicious, “I definitely, absolutely, did not make extra for your partner.”

You raise your hands as a testament of peace, though there’s still a teasing grin on your face because you both know he’s lying. He’s thankful when you don’t push, though, instead opting to take his sandwich from him. “This smells great, Arven!” Beside you, your partner yips happily, nudging you to hurry up and feed it. With a laugh – one that Arven absolutely does not think is cute – you give your partner its sandwich. After it gobbles down its sandwich, it glows brilliantly, making Arven’s eyebrows rise.

“Did it grow stronger again?”

“I think so!” you beam, patting your Pokémon. “Look at you go!”

“Man… these Herba Mystica really do pack a punch, huh? I mean, they ought to, or else–” Arven’s eyes widen as your Pokémon lumbers over to an extra sandwich on the table. The Pokémon’s action makes rage bolt through Arven, but even more than that, panic. “Don’t you dare touch that – it isn’t for you!” His shoulders are tense as he yells, his voice echoing throughout the cave. Both you and your Pokémon blink in surprise and Arven tries his best to control his ragged breathing, but it’s hard.

“Arven,” you murmur, placing a hand on his shoulder. He expected you to slap him for yelling at your Pokémon, so your soft touch gives him whiplash. “I’m sorry about ‘Don. Are you all right?”

“Yeah – yeah.” He’s not sure why you’re able to help calm him down so quickly, but there’s a sense of peace that thrums through his veins, allowing him to think a little clearer. “Yeah.”

“‘Don.” There’s a chastising lilt to it that makes your Pokémon bow its head apologetically. It purrs, slinking away from the table and curling up.

“...I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shouted like that…” Arven inhales, the air feeling heavy in his lungs. “I… guess I should at least tell you the full story.” Fiddling with the Poké Ball in his pocket, Arven intakes another deep breath, before letting his beloved Mabosstiff out. “This is Mabosstiff, my partner.” Arven takes the extra sandwich off of the table, breaking it into smaller chunks and feeding it to Mabosstiff. “Here you go, bud. Eat up. This sandwich should help you feel better. Slowly now. Take your time. Small bites are fine. Just chew nice and slow…”

Mabosstiff does as instructed, slowly, but surely, eating out of Arven’s hand. You watch the scene silently, but kneel down next to Arven. It’s an odd feeling, but Arven can’t help but appreciate the fact that you’re still here.

“...My buddy here was… hurt pretty bad a while ago. Real bad, in fact. He never really recovered,” Arven says, feeling tears well up in his throat.

“Oh, Arven… I’m so sorry,” you murmur, hand gently rubbing his back. Before he’s cognizant of what’s happening, you’ve drawn him to your chest, giving him a hug. You have to angle yourself a little oddly because he’s so much taller than you, but that fact just makes his heart feel even more warm. He can’t really bring himself to hug you back fully, but he grabs the back of your shirt as he tries to steady his breathing.

“Nothing seems to help,” his voice cracks, “not potions, not Pokémon Centers… Nothing.” Inhaling deeply, he closes his eyes. “Mabosstiff here is the only thing in the world I care about. The only thing… So, I promised that I’d make him better – whatever it takes.”

“And that’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah.”

“You must’ve done your research,” you hum. “I’m impressed you found this out.”

“I was desperate,” he murmurs, basking in your warmth for a beat longer, before pulling away and pulling out a book. “I – this book… I found it in my parent’s lab. It’s full of legends and stuff, things nobody’d usually believe…” Saying it aloud makes it dawn on him how kind you actually are – when he asked for your help, he’d asked without knowing if any of this had any substance or value yet you agreed. “...But I believe it.” His gaze meets yours. “As an example, Mabosstiff’s paws have gotten warmer when he first ate Herba Mystica – I’m sure of it!”

Arven’s gaze sweeps back to Mabosstiff who is still chewing his food.

“Oh! You done eating, bud?” Arven murmurs, threading his fingers through Mabosstiff’s thick fur. There’s a twinge of anxiety as Arven gazes at his beloved companion. Something – anything, please, Arven thinks, teeth worrying his bottom lip. 

Slowly, Mabosstiff’s eyes open, making Arven’s breath hitch in his throat.

“H–hey, Mabosstiff! Can… can you see? Are your eyes open?” Tears clog his throat again as he sniffs. “Yes! It… It’s been so long since he was able to open his eyes! I was so worried–” he sniffs “–oh man, I–! I’m so–! I’m so glad!”

You rub gentle circles on Arven’s back as you allow him to bask in his relief while crying.

“Thank you, really,” he finally says, making you laugh.

“It’s all you, Arven, promise.” Your gaze is contemplative as you tap your fingers against your knee. “Do you mind if I pet him?”

“Ah… Well, what do you say, Mabosstiff?”

Mabosstiff looks at you and you look back with a smile.

“He says yes,” Arven supplies helpfully.

“I’m glad you told me,” you laugh. “I couldn’t tell.” Still, you gently take your hands and scratch behind Mabosstiff’s ear, which he seems to like. Watching you carefully handle his buddy makes an indescribable emotion well up in Arven – he’s really not sure what to make of it, but he wants to burn the image of you and Mabosstiff into his brain.

“Aw, look at him look at you!” Arven huffs out a laugh. “Those fiery orange little eyes… Hard to tell if they’re open or not, but I know the difference!”

“Hah, I don’t doubt it,” you respond, giving Mabosstiff one last scratch before drawing your hand away.

“The power of these herbs really is amazing!” Arven beams, feeling a lot better after crying. “I’m gonna get the rest of these herbs and bring Mabosstiff to full health.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, making Arven awkwardly clear his throat. He knows that you’ve been nothing but kind to him, but he still feels a little shy around you now that things are dawning on him. He’s revealed his real reason for hunting Herba Mysticas and he’s cried in front of you, which is honestly pretty mortifying. But you take it in stride and for some reason, in his eyes, you’re glowing. Not wanting to bask in his awkwardness, he clears his throat.

“So… uh, yeah. That’s my story. Just… just three more to go.”

“Just three more to go,” you agree, before taking his hands into yours. Arven swears his heart just stopped. “Arven, I promise you that we’ll find the remaining herbs. We’re gonna bring Mabosstiff to full health, you’ll see.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, the passion in your eyes swallowing him whole.

You give his hands another squeeze before drawing away, making Arven really, really miss your warmth.

“We got this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Arven agrees, nodding. “We do.”

---

The third time Arven falls in love with you, it’s because he realizes he finds comfort in your presence. You’ve just defeated the third Titan, and Arven can’t believe how amazing it feels. You’re both over halfway done with this quest – over half. He didn’t even think he’d be able to find one Herba Mystica, but somehow, with you, he’s found three. 

“Another successful search!” he beams, looking at the glowing herb. “We’re on a roll!”

“We are!” you agree, covered in mud from head to toe. The sight makes Arven laugh. “What?”

“Ah – it’s nothin’ to worry about,” he says, but the grin on his face says otherwise. Your eyes narrow and he can’t help but think it’s so freaking cute. 

“Hmph, I help a guy out and all he does is laugh at me…”

“And make you sandwiches,” he helpfully adds, making you snort.

“That too, I guess. Hm…”  you peer at him curiously, before digging through your pockets. Arven watches you curiously as you pull out a handkerchief. You stand on your toes, trying to reach his height as you carefully wipe his face. Arven stops breathing as you focus on him. “Okay, I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” you huff with a smile. “I can’t really do anything about your clothes, though. Sorry.”

“You–” Arven lets out a sigh, before bellowing out a laugh that makes you jump. “I really don’t know what to expect with you.”

“Thanks?”

Arven shakes his head with fondness, still feeling warmth radiate through his limbs. He digs through his bag, pulling out a fluffy Maschiff themed towel and handing it to you.

You take the toweling, blinking in confusion. “Thanks…?”

“You think I’m in a state?” he huffs, watching the expression on your face. You’re cute, Arven decides, but doesn’t put more thought into it because he’s so sure everyone finds you cute. 

“Is that why you were laughing?” you ask, finally, nose scrunching up. “I’m covered in mud, aren’t I?”

“Yup,” Arven responds with a smile. “Clean yourself up and I’ll get some food going.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, backing away from the picnic table. 

Arven watches you from the corner of his eye as you wipe your face and clothes, scrunching your nose in disdain. The sight makes him smile to himself as he begins to cook. Smiling wasn’t something he did too often before meeting you, but there’s just something about you that makes his lips quirk upwards. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” he exclaims, walking to where you’re sitting and handing you a plate. “Another one of your favorite ol’ Arven sandwiches with a side of Titan Badge!”

“Thank you!” you beam, still caked in mud but somehow glowing. 

“It’s nothing–” Arven snorts as your Pokémon pops out of its Poké Ball. “Figured this might happen. Don’t worry – I made extra this time for that partner of yours.”

“Thanks, Arven,” you beam, your partner chirping beside you in agreement.

“Yeah, no problem.” Arven fiddles with his Poké Ball for a bit, before gently letting Mabosstiff out. Shallow, but heavy, heaves leave Mabosstiff’s bruised body and Arven can feel his heart break, but he pushes on. Arven carefully breaks the sandwich down into smaller chunks, feeding it to Mabosstiff. “That’s it. Small bites, small bites…”

“Ah, ‘Don, slow down!”

Your voice makes him temporarily turn his attention to you, which allows him to observe your partner swallowing the sandwich whole.

“Ah, c’mon,” Arven huffs without malice. “At least bother to taste it before you swallow it right down, would you?”

You offer him a sheepish smile. “Uhm, if it’s any solace… I’m savoring every bite. It’s very good.”

Your words make Arven’s expression ease, a sense of comfort flooding through him. “That’s good, I’m glad.” For a brief moment, he stares at you eating his sandwich with glee, a sense of calm washing over him before his gaze shifts to Mabosstiff to assess Mabosstiff’s condition. “Oh. You done with your sandwich, Mabosstiff?”

A small sound escapes Mabosstiff, making both Arven and your eyes widen.

“R–ruff?! You… you heard that too, right?!” Bright teal eyes wet with tears turn to look at you. “Mabosstiff just woofed, right? Right?!”

“Right!” you agree, a wide grin on your face. “He definitely woofed!”

“See! See that?!” A relieved chuckle leaves Arven as his hands gently thread through Mabosstiff’s fur again. “I knew I wasn’t just hearing things!” With increased vigor, Arven scratches the back of Mabosstiff’s ear, causing the Pokémon to let out another small woof. “Oh, Mabosstiff! Who’s my best bud, huh? Who’s the best of boys? You are, yes, you are!” He sniffles and before he knows it, you're at his side again, rubbing circles on his back as you scratch Mabosstiff’s other ear.

Mabosstiff lets out another small woof at the attention he’s receiving, which makes Arven laugh through his tears.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard that woof!” He can’t help but turn to you with a grin, which you reflect. “Mabosstiff is definitely getting better! Ever since I teamed up with you, good things keep happening!”

You laugh. “Then I guess I’ll have to work hard to make sure good things keep happening.”

Arven can feel his heart squeeze and he’s half-convinced that you’re trying to kill him.

“Just two more, right?” you give him one last pat on his back before you pull away your hand. He kind of misses (really misses) your warmth, but he doesn’t dwell on it as he nods.

“Just two more. I hope you’ll stick it out until we’re done.”

Your eyes crinkle at the sides as you smile. “I definitely will.”

He isn’t going to admit it anytime soon, but that smile brings him more comfort than you realize.

---

The fourth time Arven falls in love with you, it’s because of how much your encouragement spurs him to continue forward. The fourth titan is down for the count, and Arven can’t believe it. 

“Yes!” Arven cheers, looking at you with a bright grin.

You smile back at him, giving him a high five, before dusting off your shoulders. “What even was that thing?” you mutter. “It looked vaguely like a donphan.”

“That was definitely not a donphan,” Arven responds, scrunching his nose at the sand in his socks. “I don’t even think it was a Pokémon.”

“But then what is it?” you murmur, humming in thought. 

Arven thinks with you, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in thought. “I kinda feel like I’ve seen it before…” 

You peer at him curiously, before motioning him to lean down. Arven blinks at you, confused, but obliges. “We’re always in such a state after these battles,” you huff, amused, as your hands go to remove the sand in his hair. Arven can only stand still, words stuck in his throat as you gently weave your fingers through his hair. He can feel heat radiate off of his cheeks as his eyes flicker around aimlessly, trying to find something to look at. He feels like an eternity has passed when you remove your hands, a proud look on your face. “There. I got most of the big chunks out.”

“I–” he clears his dry throat, “Thanks. Do you, uh, want me…?”

You blink at him curiously, before you laugh. “I think my hat thankfully protected my hair from the worst of it. I don’t always wear it, but I’m glad I wore it today.”

Oh Arceus, he was so dumb. Arven wanted to crawl into the sand and never emerge again.

“Could you make me a sandwich, though? Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, feeling warmed at your inquiry. You’re so sweet that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

The cave is, like always, dark when you and Arven enter it. For some reason, Arven pays a little more attention to you, trying to make sure you don’t slip or trip over your feet.

“Oh, the herb!” you say, making Arven finally turn his head and look at the herb growing in the distance.

“It looks like it’ll taste horrible,” Arven laughs, “which means it’s gotta be good for you!”

“I don’t know about that,” you respond, smiling, “but I’m sure you’ll be able to turn this into something tasty, at least.”

“You bet.” Arven rolls up his sleeves. “No time to waste – I’ll get some food going!”

Areven’s deft hands traverse across the picnic table as he sets up the ingredients to make a sandwich. There’s a giddiness behind his movements now as he anticipates your reaction, as well as Mabosstiff's increasing health. He can feel that he’s so, so close to his goal that he can taste it – and it’s all thanks to you. His heart fills with something he can’t really seem to describe whenever he thinks of you – whenever he’s with you. Sometimes he feels like the gratitude he has towards you will overflow, making him do something terribly stupid.

“Okay, sorry for the wait! Here’s the sandwich with a nice helping of Titan Badge! Gaze upon it in awe as you eat.”

“I am in awe,” you respond, taking both things from him gratefully. As your Pokémon comes out, Arven lets Mabosstiff out of its Poké Ball too. The sight of Mabosstiff’s eyes makes Arven smile.

“Seems like someone’s got a proper appetite now!” he glances at your Pokémon, watching it gobble up its food. “And that fellow’s also slowly regaining its original strength. Still… doesn’t look like it’s anywhere close to returning to its battle form. It seems healthy enough physically… But maybe it’s got a mental block?”

You frown at him, which makes Arven’s heart drop.

“A mental block?” you murmur, gently petting your Pokémon. It nuzzles into your hand as you do so.

“I, uh, I’ve read about it before. A mental scar – like psychological trauma.” As your frown deepens, Arven wishes he could just shut up. “Maybe it had a terrifying experience in battle and, uh, doesn’t really like to now? Like it’s too scared to fight.”

Your frown remains on your face as you continue to stroke your Pokémon’s head. Arven swallows, before clearing his throat.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Arven says, quickly, noticing the worry in your tone. He really didn’t want to damper your mood – that wasn’t the intent of his words. So, seeing you crestfallen at the potential trauma your Pokémon faced makes his heart, well, drop. “I’m sure both the brute – uh, that is, your buddy – and Mabosstiff will both make a full recovery eventually!”

“Yeah,” you murmur, giving him a nod. You give him a small smile as if to appease him, but it does little to soothe the guilt in Arven’s heart.

“Well, Mabosstiff?” he says, turning his attention away from you. “How’s that Herba Mystica working?”

Mabosstiff only tiredly huffs in response, his breathing slow and steady. He lets out a little whine in apology, but it’s quiet and breathy.

“Uh, no pressure!” Arven exclaims, wanting to backtrack completely. He feels like he’s messed up twice now and he’s starting to panic a little. “It’s not like it’s fair to expect every kind of Herba Mystica to have some kind of huge effect, right? And it’s not like the result has to be immediate, either.” Arven gently ruffles Mabosstiff’s fur, holding in a sigh. “Okay, rest up now, buddy.” Ruffling Mabosstiff’s fur one last time, Arven withdraws Mabosstiff back into its Poké Ball. As soon as Mabosstiff is back in its Poké Ball, Arven heaves out a sigh.

Everything had started out so great, but now, it feels like he’s made mistake after mistake. Not to mention the fact that Mabosstiff didn’t have any huge changes this time around. And he’s made you all sad because your Pokémon might be traumatized. Arven groans, ruffling his hair in aggravation. He just keeps messing up.

What if he keeps messing up? What if Mabosstiff never recovers? What if you see that your efforts were for nothing and then leave him? What if–

“Arven, we have one more left,” your voice cuts in, making Arven turn to you slowly in confusion. You meet his gaze with a smile, your Pokémon curled up by your feet, dozing off. “We'll get the last one and Mabosstiff will be as right as rain, you’ll see. We’ve got this.”

He blinks at you. “Uh– yeah.” Arven’s eyes search your face for any signs of anger or frustration, but there are none. Just kindness and determination. “Yeah.”

Your smile is so bright that it actually melts away his worries this time. You aren’t mad at him, and you aren’t disappointed, either. He can see that now.

Arven smiles. He’s not sure why, but your words bring him a lot of comfort. Since you said it’ll work out, he really believes that it will. He believes you because you seem to believe in him.

It makes his heart feel warm.

---

The fifth time Arven falls in love, it’s because he realizes that his happiness is multiplied beyond words when you’re with him. 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” you ask, eyes glimmering as you look at Casseroya Lake.

“Yeah,” he responds, looking at how your smile widens at the sight of the blue lake before you.

“So the last Titan Pokémon – the False Dragon – is here, right?” you ask, tilting your head back to look at him. “It’s kinda bizarre to think about, you know. It’s so peaceful here.”

“Yeah, and not a single person’s caught of glimpse of it,” Arven mutters, eyes drifting across the quiet lake water. “It must be some kinda truly terrifying beast… But how are we supposed to search for a thing when we don’t even know what it looks like?”

“Surely it’ll do the kind thing and yell something like, ‘Grah! I’m the Titan!’” you joke, curling your fingers to look like claws, making Arven huff out a laugh.

“If only, right?” Arven’s thoughts are momentarily shaken when you start sprinting away from him. “Wha– hey! Where’re you going?!”

“I saw it!” is the last thing he hears before you surf away on your Pokémon.

Arven can only stand there, shell-shocked, before he runs after you, sending out his Cloyster.

When he catches up to you, he sees you confronting a huge Pokémon, a Poké Ball readied in your grasp. “Did you find the Titan?!” Arven asks, looking at the Dondozo. “So that’s it?! Sure is one big… uh… dragon?” His eyebrows furrow, expressing his confusion. “Wait, is that even a dragon? Or is it a fish?!”

“Well, it’s called the False Dragon Titan for a reason, right? So…” your eyebrows also furrow in confusion. “...If we beat it, I’m sure our questions will be answered.”

“That’s true– whoa!” Arven’s eyes widen. “Th–the little sushi guy got eaten up! Yeesh! Didn’t expect to see the food chain in action today!”

“And now we gotta step it up so we don’t end up a part of the food chain!” you respond, calling out your Pokémon.

“Right!” Arven agrees, sending out his Greedent.

“W–We did it!” Arven cheers once Dondozo goes down. “We–”

“Not yet!” you respond as Tatsugiri jumps out of Dondozo’s mouth and costumes some Herba Mystica. “Let’s go, Arven!”

“Uh…! Right!” 

Somehow, he always finds himself following your pace.

“Phew… Nice job!” Arven pats you on the back once the Tatsugiri also goes down. “Maybe the Titan was both those Pokémon together? Like some kinda combo meal.”

You laugh brightly at Arven’s words, making his heart warm. “Well, we're kinda a combo meal too, then, huh? A better one, of course.”

Arven ignores how hot his face feels, chalking it up to the battle you two just finished. “Okay! I’m pretty sure that Tatsugiri came out of there. Let’s go?”

You nod, following Arven as he enters the dark cave. Instinctively, you grab onto Arven’s vest, making his heart warm.

“That must be it!” Arven exclaims once he sees the red herb. You both run up to it, happy that your search is successful. “Let’s see what the book has to say… So it seems that the Spicy Herba Mystica is supposed to boost your metabolism! It gives your circulation a boost and helps flush out all those toxins!”

“Wow, it sounds intense!” you laugh, before patting Arven’s arm. “Sounds like something that’ll definitely pep someone up.”

“Yeah,” Arven says. If he were alone, he’s sure that he’d be more fearful than hopeful, scared that all his efforts were for nothing, but you’re here and that’s enough to reassure him. Inhaling deeply, he picks the herb up, giving you the brightest grin he can muster. “Just wait right there – I’ll whip something up real quick.”

“Waiting!” you reply, brightly.

Arven begins his cooking again, eyes intensified on the task in front of him. Before he can get too much further, however, you call for him. He turns around, looking at you quizzically as you approach him.

“Your hair’s gotten longer since we’ve started collecting Herba Mystica.”

Arven pauses, contemplative. He has noticed that his hair has been getting in the way more recently, but he was too busy to really think about it.

“Can I tie your hair back?”

“Huh?” Arven swears his heart stops, his cheeks heating up. He swears you’re gonna kill him one day. 

“Since your hands are busy,” you supplement, pulling out a cute hair tie with a Skwovet on it. “...Well, actually, it’s because I saw this and thought of you.”

You thought of him? You bought something because you thought of him? Arceus – he’s not sure when someone last bought him something – or even thought to, really.

“Arven?” you call.

“Yeah,” he responds, snapping out of his thoughts. “Ah, yeah.” He blinks rapidly, feeling his eyes grow wet with tears. It’s the onions, he tries to convince himself, but he’s not really sure if he can lie about it this time. He turns his back to you, barely choking out, “Go for it.” There’s a wobble in his voice that he hopes you didn’t hear.

Gingerly, at his permission, you take his hair into your grasp, threading your fingers through it. Arven busies himself with cooking, unsure of what to do with himself. The gentle movement of your fingers makes his heart beat erratically, but it somehow soothes him, too. He’s really not sure what to do.

 “There,” you say, finally, patting his back as your hands draw away from his hair.

He kind of misses your warmth, but he’s not going to admit that outloud. Instead, he mumbles a quiet thank you that he’s not sure you heard.

“No problem,” you hum, peering over his side to watch him work.

He suddenly feels shy under your gaze, even though you’ve watched him cook so many times. It takes all of his brain power to solely focus on cooking because he doesn’t want to mess up and lose you.

“Wow, that looks delicious!”

“Then it’s good that I made enough for you,” he responds, making you laugh. Arceus, he really likes your laugh.

“Thanks, Arven,” you say, taking the two sandwiches he’s offering you.

I should be thanking you, Arven thinks, but nods and says that it’s not a problem. He watches as you give your partner its sandwich, bright grin on your face as your partner gobbles it food in a flash. Arven watches as you eat yours, delight racing across your face as you savor each bite. Just seeing your reaction makes Arven think that he wouldn’t mind cooking for you every day.

“It’s delicious!” you say, making him puff his chest out in pride.

“Of course it is!” he exclaims, feeling your words simmer in his heart and give him courage. He inhales, pulling our Mabosstiff’s Poké Ball. “I guess it’s your turn, now…” he murmurs, releasing Mabosstiff. “Come on, bud. Eat up. It’s gonna make you all better, I promise,” Arven says, breaking up the sandwich and offering it to his partner. He waits for Mabosstiff to eat patiently. “We’re gonna play with your favorite ball as much as you want, y’know? Just like we used to.”

Mabosstiff silently eats out of Arven’s hands. It makes Arven’s heart throb.

“Please… get better. That’s all I want, really…” Arven’s voice is so quiet that he’s not sure if he’s said or thought his words. Still, he waits in anticipation as Mabosstiff finishes the last bite of his sandwich.

Arven waits.

And waits.

And waits.

“...Mabosstiff,” Arven finally says, voice cracking. He gently pats Mabosstiff’s fur, feeling his eyes grow wet with tears. “You did your best, bud…” With a sharp inhale, Arven stands, turning his back to you. He’s not sure what to do. You worked so hard for him. Mabosstiff worked so hard for him. And yet… it didn’t work. It didn’t work, of course it didn’t. But what else can he do now? Arven’s not sure. There’s a myriad of thoughts bustling in his head, becoming a murky black as he contemplates what to do next. He knows he has to keep trying, but–

Bark!

Arven’s eyes widen as he quickly whips around, teal eyes landing on Mabosstiff struggling to its feet. Though a little slow, Mabosstiff limps to the Poké Ball that rolled off the table, picking it up in its mouth and walking to Arven. The relief, the gratitude, the hope – all of it makes Arven fall to his knees as he clambers towards Mabosstiff to meet halfway. Mabosstiff lets out another energetic bark that makes Arven want to cry. “Bud, I know! Me, too!” he exclaims, hugging Mabosstiff close. He feels the soft warmth of Mabosstiff’s fur, the gentle beat of Mabosstiff’s heart, and Arven, for the first time in forever, knows that Mabosstiff will be just fine.

And Arven can’t be more grateful to you – you, who decided to help him, a stranger. You, who decided to help him despite there being no evidence of these Herba Mysticas existing. You, who has supported him through this entire journey–

“Thank you,” he finally says, looking at you. He knows his eyes are red, he knows he probably looks like a mess, but he really can’t bring himself to care – not when Mabosstiff’s better. Not when you’ve helped him so much.

“Don’t mention it, really,” you say, eyes so kind that he wishes he could hold your gaze forever. “I’m so glad Mabosstiff’s better.”

“Yeah,” he responds, feeling elated that he can share this moment with you. He continues to hug Mabosstiff close, whose tail has been wagging rapidly. The pulse thrumming through Mabosstiff’s body makes another shot of happiness move through Arven’s veins. “Yeah.”

Arven wonders if it’s all right to be this happy, but he decides that it’s okay to bask in it for now.

After all, what else can he feel when both Mabosstiff and you were by his side?

---

The moment Arven realizes he’s in love with you, it’s because he realizes that it’s because he can’t imagine life without you.

His mood had considerably soured when his parent had called you, especially since his parent wanted something from you. Bitterness rose to Arven’s throat, leaking into his words as his parent requested your help. He’d honestly rather you never interact with the professor that abandoned him. Still, you agree to help the professor and though Arven doesn’t want to be treated like an errand boy, he knows he owes you one.

Well, he owes you a lot, actually, which is why he helped you through the professor’s crazy request. He wants to be a pillar of support to you, like you were to him. So, he stood by you as you went to Area Zero.

But now that everything is solved, technically, he wonders if he should’ve gone with you at all.

Finding out that his parent had died years ago – he’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel. Sad? Angry? Frustrated? Scared?

Arven inhales, looking at the starry expanse above him. Somehow, despite the cloudiness in his heart, the stars shine bright as always. Somehow, despite the heaviness in his heart, he ends up drawing your visage in the constellations. You, who shines brighter than the stars, slumbering inside the tent next to Nemona and Penny. You, who braved the dangers of Area Zero. You. He wishes he can see you.

“Arven?” you call, and Arven wonders how he’s able to wish your presence into existence.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, hearing the yawn in your voice.

“No, I just…” you pause, “...I just couldn’t sleep.” Slowly, you make your way over to him. “Can I sit with you?”

“‘Course,” he replies, heart leaping in his throat when you sit closer to him than he expected. His emotions begin to jumble further into some odd emotion stew as you two sit in silence. The stars. The professor. Mabosstiff. You. Everything.

“Are you okay?” you ask, finally breaking the silence.

Arven doesn't know the answer to that. “Are you?”

You’re silent, before you breathe in deeply. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah.” Arven looks at you – you, who’s always been so brave and strong, and he sees. He sees the eyebags on your face. He sees the way your shoulders slump. He sees and he understands.

“...Thanks, Arven.”

“What?” The gratitude you express takes him by surprise, which you see when you turn your attention to him and meet his eyes.

“For coming with me. And helping me get Penny and Nemona on board. And… well, helping me adjust to Paldea. Traveling with you helped a lot, you know.” You inhale deeply, before your head seems to naturally rest on Arven’s shoulder, making him freeze. “I just… I don’t think I could’ve been down there by myself. So, yeah. Thank you.”

Arven’s not sure what to say. He’s still processing everything and if anything, he really should be thanking you. You, who helped him heal Mabosstiff. You, who let him vent about his parent. You, who reassured him the entire time in Area Zero. You, who’s still here, by his side, thanking him. You.

“I think I’m in love with you.” It dawns on Arven that he’s a mess of emotions and probably shouldn’t be talking. In fact, he probably should shut up now since you’ve removed your head from his shoulder, opting to look at him with wide eyes, but he can’t. “You’ve always been there for me. You didn’t have to, but you’ve been there. And you’re still here.” He inhales. Can you see how much he wants to hold you close? “Seriously, I should be thanking you.”

“Arven…”

Arven’s words finally catch up to his brain, making his cheeks flush. “Arceus, sorry.” He deflects his gaze from you. “I’m just– I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, softly, placing your hand on his cheek to turn his face to you. “It’s been a long journey, y’know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t a mess. I mean, remember what the sand did to us that one time when we beat the fourth Titan? Or the mud bath we had because of the third Titan?”

Despite his embarrassment, he can’t help but snort in laughter, which makes you smile.

“Arven,” your thumb brushes against his cheek, feeling the warmth radiating off of him, “Don’t ever apologize for expressing yourself, okay? I want you to talk to me if you need to. I’ll be here – I’ll always be here for you.”

Arceus, how could he have ever avoided falling for you? Everything you’ve done for him, everything he observes, it all builds and builds and builds until he feels like his love for you is reaching beyond the skies.

“And… maybe this isn’t the best time for this, but…” you gaze flickers to the ground, bashful, “I like you too.”

Arven blinks. Once. Twice. “Oh.”

Your lips quirk upward, your gaze shy. “Do you think you’d be okay if I stayed by your side?”

“Would you be okay with that?” Arven says, grabbing your hand. “Would… Me? You’d be okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arven wonders if he’s dreaming. He’s been constantly abandoned that he never thought that someone would willingly want to be with him. But here you are – here you always are. He can feel his eyes well up, and you let out a small laugh at that.

“I feel like I keep making you cry.”

He laughs for the first time since you had gotten the call from the professor. “I don’t think I’ve cried this much since I was five.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just a heartbreaker.”

He snorts, mirth dancing on his face, despite the unshed tears.

“But don’t worry, I’d never break your heart.”

“You’re killin’ me, here,” Arven wheezes, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

You respond by drawing him into a hug, laughter tickling his ear. Despite him being bigger than you, somehow you make him feel safe in his arms. He wraps his arms around you, eyes closing as he holds you close. He’s not sure when it started, or when it’ll end, really, but he feels the overwhelming emotions he’s feeling slowly leave him. He can’t fully comprehend what he’s feeling, still trying to balance the grief, the shock, the relief. Maybe he won't ever know what he's feeling. But when he feels you bury your face into his chest, wet tears decorating his shirt, he thinks it’s okay that he doesn’t fully know what he’s feeling.

He doesn’t know when he’ll be fine, maybe he won’t be fine for a while. But with you in his arms, by his side, he thinks he’ll be okay.

And he’ll do everything to make sure you’ll be okay, too.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Freshman, ft. tripleS Yoon Seoyeon

tags: first time, male reader

length: 5k+ words

-------------

Today is August 12th, the first day of Freshers’ Week at your university. Professor Son, the head of Computer Science department, had asked you personally to be one of the seniors to lead a group of freshmen throughout the Week and continue to offer help and advice whenever they may need it, even after the orientation period has finished. She told you that she was very impressed that you were able to maintain a 3.7 GPA in the 2 years you’ve been studying while being active as a basketball player for the university’s team at the same time. You were hesitant to take her up on the request at first because you had wanted to take this holiday period to relax and gather yourself after such a stressful semester. However, you recalled the way your senior had helped you when you were a freshman yourself; how he motivated and set an example to you and your groupmates, so you put your holiday plans to the side, said yes, and become a group leader.

Your watch shows 5:30 am, you just finished the morning briefing with the other group leaders and the rest of the Freshers’ Week committee. In less than an hour, the freshmen will start gathering in the football field and you will start your duties as a group leader for these new faces. You are very nervous as you are not very sociable with new people, but you see this as an opportunity to help you be more comfortable being in the spotlight and present in public—the promised payment is too good to pass up as well.

You and the rest of the group leaders stand in a row while holding a sign with the group name and number written on it. You see the freshmen start lining up in front of their respective leaders, including yourself. Some look like they just woke up, others look excited to start their new life as a university student, as you were back then. Initially, no male or female freshman catches your attention with their looks, until the last freshman joins your group’s line. You quickly peek at the attendance list on your clipboard and find the name of this last person: Yoon Seoyeon, from Chungnam Girls’ High School in Daejeon— “that’s quite the distance”, you think. As you look up from the attendance list, you see her walking up to you. Just before she gets to you, you managed to pick up some details from her looks: big eyes, small lips, fluffy cheeks—she’s also wearing a bow tie in your favorite color, light blue.

Lock it in, she’s holding out her hand to shake yours. “Good morning, sunbaenim. My name is Yoon Seoyeon”, she says. You find yourself staring deep into her eyes for a second before replying and shaking her hand; you have never felt anything like this before—is this what they call love at first sight?

After that short introduction, you tried your best to shake off other thoughts that could distract you from doing your job on this opening day. Little did you know, today was going to be a start of something huge for you.

The day went by very quickly for you, as you and your group followed all the introductory programs prepared by the committee. You tried your best to be present for your group throughout the day, sharing your university experiences, offering them tips, and showing them your favorite spots for studying. Most of them seemed engaged and interested in what you’re saying, which you’re thankful for, because you found out that being in the center of attention like this is not easy for you. In the last 15 minutes before things are wrapped for them today, you express your gratitude for them and ask them to be more comfortable with you and not to call you “sunbaenim” ever again, resorting to “oppa” or “hyung”.

After every freshman left, everyone else started following suit and left to go to wherever they needed to be; their dorm rooms, their favorite coffee shops, whatever the case may be for them. You opted to walk back to your apartment, picking up food for dinner on the way, “pasta for dinner feels like a good idea”, you think to yourself.

As soon as you entered your apartment, you heard a buzz from your phone. The documentation team sent a Google Drive link full of pictures they had taken throughout the day, neatly put into folders for each group. You set your food on your desk and start scrolling through your group’s folder. After looking more closely, you notice that Seoyeon was always by your side in every picture, paying very close attention to what you were saying. So, you promise yourself you will try talking to her and find out more about her tomorrow. You feel your heart beating fast at the thought of getting close to her, and you think to yourself, “I don’t think I can sleep tonight”—that’s cap, though; you fell asleep at around 10pm, as usual.

A few hours later, the sound of your alarm wakes you up from your sleep. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but you need to get ready anyway so that you’re not late for the briefing.

You open your wardrobe after showering and decide to dress nicer today because you want to show Seoyeon a more proper style of yours, opting for a red shirt, and a matching combination of dark gray trousers and blazer. You hope no one asks you as to why you’re dressing as if you were going to a meeting with the board of directors. “I hope Seoyeon likes guys who dress well”, you mutter while looking at the mirror one last time before leaving.

At around 4:40 am, you arrive at campus and go to the same spot as yesterday to attend the briefing. The committee explains that we’re having more talks with the freshmen today to get close to them and see if they have concerns or other things they might want to talk about with their group leaders or fellow freshmen. You get excited about the prospect of getting closer with your group, specifically with Seoyeon. You can’t wait until you can talk to her, promising to yourself that you’ll show enthusiasm to whatever subject she might bring up.

Just like yesterday, you and the other group leaders go to the football field and wait until everyone arrives. Unlike yesterday, though, Seoyeon arrives first today. Your heart beats fast when you see her walking up to you with a smile on her face, “how cute”, you hear a group leader next to you say. You shoot him a quick glare which he misses, you don’t want other people to fall for her like you’re about to.

You take a good look at what she’s wearing today; light blue shirt and brown pants, “these colors suit her very well”, you say to yourself. “Good morning, oppa. How are we feeling today?”, she asks. “We? When did it become ‘we’?”, you think, getting ahead of yourself. “I’m feeling great, Seoyeon. I’m excited because I heard that we’re going to talk a lot and know each other better today”. You see Seoyeon blush a little and look away for a second before looking at you again. “Sure, oppa. I’ll tell you everything about myself and I hope you will too”, she says, and now it’s your turn to blush. You take a few seconds to muster up the courage to compliment her. “You’re looking great, Seoyeon, these colors look great on you”, you say to her, hoping that she won’t take it any other way than a compliment. “Thank you, oppa. I noticed that you were holding a blue clipboard yesterday and caught you glancing at my bow tie a few times yesterday, so I figured that you like blue, hence the shirt”. Your first thought is to apologize for staring but at the same time, you’re holding in a squeal of excitement because she has noticed your fondness of blue.

Soon, everyone starts gathering up at the football field; you see that some people from your group have gotten more comfortable with each other, some even have made friends with people from other groups. Seoyeon finds herself among some peers and seems to be comfortable with them, and you’re glad that you get to see how she’s able to present herself so gracefully and elegantly when surrounded by people. Deep down, you hope that one day you can wake up to her next to you with the same smile she has on her face right now. “We’ll see how today turns out”, you think.

You end up spending the whole day talking with your group about all kinds of things related to university life in general and being a student-athlete studying Computer Science. Seoyeon asked you a handful of questions, to which you replied with sincerity and enthusiasm. She was careful enough to not ask about personal details, keeping the curiosity to herself. You wanted to make sure that no doubt lingers in her mind in terms of studying Computer Science in this highly competitive environment. Others also asked for more specific tips for studying after being told yesterday that you’re one of the top students in your department and in the entire university as a student-athlete—you were never in it for the fame, but being recognized positively every now and then for what you’re doing feels good and fulfilling.

The day went by quickly for you, just like yesterday did. Day 2 made you realize that you really can’t stop talking once you start and you hope that you weren’t just spewing nonsense to everybody.

While the second day started similarly to the first, it will end differently. You see Seoyeon sitting at the bus stop, staying behind even after every freshman left and the evaluation finished. Feeling concerned, you walk up to her to see if there’s anything you can help her with. Hearing your footsteps, Seoyeon turns her head to see you, “Oh hi, oppa. I thought you had left already, why are you still here?”, she asks you. “Hi to you as well, sweet—I mean, Seoyeon. Well, you just stole my line, I was supposed to ask you why you’re still here. Is there anything I can help you with?”. You saw her eyes dilate a bit when you slipped, you curse yourself for nearly losing control of what you’re saying. “I-I wanted to wait for you so we can talk s-some more—if you don’t mind, that is”, looking down as she says the last bit. “Sure, let’s talk some more. Let’s go to that burger place, we can talk over some burgers and fries”, you tell her as you point to the burger spot across the street.

Seoyeon stands up from her seat and quietly holds your arm, and the both of you start walking across the street to get to the burger shop. When you two enter the establishment, you see Jeno, your favorite guy, working at the cashier. “Yo, what’s up, man? What are we in the mood for tonight?”, he says, friendly as ever, while glancing quickly at the girl next to you. “Jeno, it’s always nice seeing you here, man. Can I have a Double OG with no tomato and some nacho fries?”. You almost forgot that you weren’t alone, so you look to your side and ask the girl shyly holding your arm, “It’s on me tonight, Seoyeon. What would you like to have?”. She shyly replies, “u-uh, I don’t know, oppa. I’ve never been here before, but I would love to have a burger and some fries as well”, of course the freshman from far away is clueless, you dumbass. “Oh, right”, you bring a palm to your forehead, “well, can I have a Black Montana and some cheesy fries?”, you tell Jeno your extra order—Black Montana used to be your favorite thanks to the sauce they use for it, only changing because you wanted to try other things. “Of course, man, anything for my favorite customer”, Jeno says as he hands you two empty cups for the drink. You fill your cup with some cold water while Seoyeon opts for diet coke. After filling the cups, you look around for a table, finding one in the corner next to the windows—how romantic.

You pull a seat for her before sitting down yourself, replicating the gesture you’ve seen your dad do for your mom throughout your life. Seoyeon mutters a little thank you that sends a jolt to your heart, making it beat like you just ran a few laps around a basketball court. You sit on the other side after setting your backpack down on the floor. “So, what did you want to talk about?”, you ask to start the conversation. Seoyeon looks at you but looks down at the table soon after, so you just nod in understanding. You don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, so you wait until the food comes before pushing again.

Luckily for you, the food comes a few minutes later. Two delicious looking burgers, some crunchy fries, and a couple of bottles of condiment. You see a beam of excitement on Seoyeon’s face as she looks at the tray the waiter has just set on your table. She immediately grabs some fries and shoves it in her mouth, making her cheeks round. Soon after, she starts unwrapping her burger and takes a bite, squealing cutely at the taste. You choose to not start eating just yet, paying close attention to how excited she is when it comes to food and feeling the warmth that’s radiating from her. After taking another bite of her burger, she looks at you and notices that you haven’t touched your food yet. “O-oppa, why aren’t you eating?”, she asks with a full mouth. “Oh, I was just admiring your excitement for food. You like it?”. “This is amazing, oppa. Thank you very much, I love y—uh, this burger”, she blushes and looks away from you while you choose to act like you didn’t catch the slip and start unwrapping your burger.

Not long after that exchange, you both finish your meals, feeling full and satisfied with it. You hope that this is good timing and ask her again, “what did you want to talk about, Seoyeon?”. Knowing that she has nowhere to hide now, she gathers her mind and says four words that shake your world, “I like you, oppa”. You drop your jaw in shock, unable to say anything back to her for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, Seoyeon, but can you say that again?”, you hope that she won’t deflect and repeats it. “I said I like you, oppa. D-do you f-feel the same, by any chance?”, she repeats, maintaining eye contact with you despite the crimson hue on her cheeks. You remain stunned for the next few seconds, until you see tears start forming in her eyes. “Seo-Seoyeon, ye-yes, I also like y-you”, you reply while breathing heavily, forgetting how to breath. Satisfied with your answer, Seoyeon immediately jumps to the empty seat next to you to hug you, tucking her head under your chin. You close your eyes and bask in the moment; you feel like a massive weight has finally been lifted off your chest. Soon, though, you start hearing little sobs coming from her. You pulled her out of the hug to look at her and soothe her, “hey, hey, sweetie, are you okay? Don’t cry, please. I’m here for you”. “I’m just so relieved, oppa. I was so scared that you would push me away—you would never push me away, right?”, she says, voice shaking from the emotions. Your heart sinks to the bottom of the Mariana Trench; there is absolutely no way on this green earth that you would push her away like that, and the fact that she’s letting her emotions show assures you that she’s being honest and sincere. Peck her on the forehead to soothe her, “it’s okay, sweetie, there’s nothing to fear. I’m here for you, always”.

After about a minute, she finally stops sobbing and her breathing returns to normal. She’s dropping another bomb, though. “Can we go to your place, oppa?”, she says softly as she pulls away from the hug. You quietly thank your parents for planting in you the habit of maintaining cleanliness, which means that your apartment is presentable for guests all the time. “We can, sweetie, but are you sure?”, you ask her with the last few drops of self-control, your patience running thin. “Please, oppa. There’s nothing I’m surer of right now”.

You ask her to let go so that you two can leave this place. She wraps an arm on yours, more confidently this time, as you walk to the cashier. “So how was it, guys? Delicious as always, right?”, Jeno asks the two of you. “Amazing, Jeno, always. We’re going, thank you so much”, you give him a fist bump before leaving the place. He gives you two thumbs up as you’re opening the door to leave.

Soon, you two find yourselves on the way to your apartment. “Sweetie, c-can I carry you? I-I’ve always wanted to try it”, you ask, surprising Seoyeon who did not see it coming at all. “Sure, oppa, just don’t drop me please”, with her consent, you ask her to get in front of you and carry her bridal style for the rest of the way, carrying this 50-something kilograms bundle of sweetness with ease. You feel her start to loosen up and lean her head on you as you’re carrying her, transferring the warmth from her body to yours. You wonder how this might look like to people who see you, but it’s the least of your concern right now; you’re at the peak of your life and it’s only getting better from this point onwards.

“We’re here, sweetie”, you say to her as you reach the front door of your apartment, not putting her down as you open the door and enter. You softly put her down on the couch bed, extending it out so she can lie down comfortably. Peck her on the forehead again to remind yourself that it is really happening. “Would you want some water, darling?”, she nods to the question, and you go get some cups of water for the both of you. You then sit next to her lying body and put her legs on your lap and softly massage them. “Oppa”, she softly calls out, “what made you like me?”. Her question is a simple one, but leaves you speechless nonetheless. “I don’t know, sweetie. I just felt drawn to you”, you start, “you’re just so charming, and graceful, and elegant, and— “, your brain realizes that these words sound absolutely ridiculous coming from you, so it tells your cheeks to blush so that you stop. Seoyeon giggles softly seeing you stop so suddenly, “anything else, oppa?”, she challenges. You look at her with a serious face, which made her bite her lip in nervousness, and hover over her. You stay there for a bit and slowly go down for a kiss, nice and slow, to show her your genuine love. Pull away from the kiss and tell her softly, “I love you, Yoon Seoyeon, with my entire being. Would you be mine, my only one?”. “Yes, oppa. I’m yours and you’re mine”, she replies, her soft smile prominent on her face.

You spend a bit more time cuddling with her on the couch bed, saying sweet things to her. However, you’re curious about something, “so what did you want do that you asked me to bring you here?”. Seoyeon stayed silent for a few seconds before turning to face you, “I want you to be my first, oppa”, she says while looking deep into your eyes—that’s one more bomb she dropped on you; if you weren’t already shattered from the previous ones, this one will surely end you. “That would be a huge honor for me, baby, but are you sure?”, you say, still holding yourself back even though blood has rushed to your cock, making you as hard as a rock. “Take me, oppa, make me truly yours”, she replies while softly rubbing your cheek with her hand.

Still in control of yourself, you get up from the couch and carry her bridal style again to your bedroom, the lights turning on automatically as you walk in. You put her down on the bed and move a stray hair covering her face, “you’re so beautiful, baby”, you mutter softly. Your self-control running thin, you ask her one more time if she’s sure about this, to which she replied by lolling in your bed, “take care of me, oppa, please”. You stand up by the footboard and start taking off your clothes in front of her, being confident with your physique as an active basketball player. Seoyeon keeps her eyes on you, biting her lips occasionally as you take off each layer, until you’re down to your boxers, your hard cock making a significant tent.

You see nervousness creeping up on her, “is it going to hurt, oppa?”. You climb nto the bed again and pet her head softly, “it will be uncomfortable at first, baby, but we’ll get through it together”, you assure her. Your assurance helps Seoyeon be less nervous, as she gives you a nod and pulls your hands to her top button, indirectly asking you to undress her. You take your time unbuttoning her shirt, paying attention to her gesture and expression, down until the last button. You open the curtain that is her unbuttoned shirt and see her mounds covered with a simple white bra, “I know they’re not as big—”, you shut her up with a kiss, “please, baby, you’re perfect as you are”, you tell her with a comforting smile on your face. You then start kissing down her entire body; from her neck down to her tummy, earning soft moans from her. Give her a calm smile as you unbutton and unzip her pants, her nervousness returning to her face. “I know I sound like a broken record, baby, but are you sure?”, you ask, even though your patience now is as thin as paper. She gives you a nod and a warm smile, so you pull her up on her feet and take her clothes off, leaving her only in her white underwear.

Set her down on the bed again before opening a drawer of the bedside table to get a condom. Seeing you unwrap one and putting it on, she grabs your arm and tells you once again, very softly, “please be gentle, oppa”. “I will, sweetie, I promise”, you reply before kissing her forehead. You get in the bed again and open her legs slowly, noticing the damp spot on her panties as soon as her legs are open wide enough for you to get in between. You look at her once more before sliding her panties off, revealing her shaved and untouched pussy. “Alright, are you ready, sweetie? I love you, okay? Don’t ever doubt that, not even for a second. Say ‘pochacco’ if you want to stop, baby”. “Yes, oppa, I’m ready. I love you with all my life”, she replies.

She gasps as soon as feels your tip on her entrance, “be gentle, please”, she begs you. You give her a nod and start pushing in, making her moan just a bit too loudly. You feel yourself getting past her barrier, turning her into a full-blown woman—your woman. She muffles a moan with her palm as a tear runs down her face. You lean forward and hug her, then whisper softly, “are you okay, sweetie? I love you”. “I-it hurts, oppa, you feel s-so big, plea-please be gentle”, she says as another tear runs down her cheek. “I know, baby, but please hold on for a second, okay? You also don’t have to cover your mouth. It’s okay to let go, you’re safe with me”, you assure her with a peck on the lips and wipe her tear with a thumb.

Straighten your back once more and start moving rhythmically in and out of her pussy, earning soft moans and some high-pitched ones from Seoyeon. “You’re so tight, baby. Such a good girl for me”, you tell her with heavy voice between thrusts. “Ye-yes, I’m your good girl, oppa”, she replies with shaky voice. She’s just so sweet, isn’t she? You promise yourself that you’re going to spend the rest of your life protecting every little bit of the woman underneath you, keeping her by your side until the end of time. A few more deep thrusts and she delivers a breaking news exclusively for you, “I-I feel like something is about to burst, oppa”—her first orgasm is coming soon, and you’re the cause. “Yes, baby. Let go, let it all go for me, my good girl”, you say as you speed up your rhythm. “OPPA I’M—”, she screams out loud as her juice gushes out of her small frame, forcing you to pull out. You lean forward and pet her head softly, waiting for her to come down from her high naturally. “You’re such a good girl, love. Let’s calm down before continuing, okay?”, you tell her calmly, a gentle smile drawn on your face. “What was that, oppa? What just happened?”, she asks, still panting from the foreign sensation. “That was your first orgasm, love”, “an orgasm, oppa? Does that mean I did well?”, “yes, you did, my love, you did very well. I’ll get you some water, okay?”, you two share a small exchange as she relaxes from her first ever orgasm.

After giving her some water and waiting for her to relax even more, you ask her if she’s ready to go again, chasing for your own orgasm this time. “I’m taking your bras off and then I’m going back in, sweetie”, you tell her. You start thrusting into her again at decent speed, making her freed breasts bounce with each thrust. “Yes, oppa, it doesn’t hurt as much now. Give it to me, give me your all, oppa”. Her encouragement fuels your arousal as you deliver deep, solid thrusts into her, chasing for another orgasm for her and your first tonight. She grabs your right hand and brings it to her breast, hoping that you would do something about it. You palm her breast and squeeze it softly every odd second, getting ever closer to your orgasm, “I’m getting close, baby, very close”, “yes, yes, oppa, I think I’m getting close too”, she says while moaning softly. A dozen thrusts and you feel the knot in your stomach tightening—you’re close to the finish line. “Seoyeon, baby, I’m cumming”, you notify her. “Me-me too, oppa, let’s cum together”, and the both of you do just that; you feel her walls tighten around your cock as you’re cumming, milking every drop of cum out of you. Feeling weak, you just fall forward on top of her and hug her tightly in your arms. Whisper in her ear, “baby, I love you so much. I really do”. “I love you too, oppa. My oppa”.

After gathering your strength for a bit, you pull out and take off the condom, tying it into a knot then showing it to her, “this is all you, baby, you made me cum this much”, you tell her. You see her blushing before covering her face with her hands. “I’m gonna run you a shower, baby, wait a sec, yeah?”. You leave her lying down in bed while you head to the bathroom to start a shower for the two of you. You then go back to the bedroom and carry her to the bedroom to start the aftercare—"this was her first time, she deserves all the sweetness I can show her”, you think to yourself. “Alright, baby, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Stand under the shower and face that wall for me, please”, you tell her after making sure she can stand up on her own, to which she just nods and does as you ask. You start by letting water run all over her then turning it off so you can rub her back all the way down to her legs with some soap, going up and down multiple times to make sure you don’t miss a spot. Once that’s done, you turn off the shower and stand back up while gesturing to her to turn around to face you. She looks up at you with her big eyes and a wide smile on her face, “oppa, I love you”, she says, getting on her tippy toes to kiss you. You lean down and kiss her deeply, “I love you more, baby. Let’s finish this, okay?”.

After getting out of the shower all cleaned up, you put her back in bed and lie down next to her to start the second part of the aftercare. You’re peppering her with pecks all over her face, saying “I love you” after each peck. You’re still curious about something, though, so you ask her, “darling, what made you fall for me so suddenly?”. Surprised with your question, she blushes and stays quiet before answering, “I-I think that you’re a kind and sweet and attentive person a-and heard that you’re a top student while being a student-athlete. I fe-felt attracted to you out of nowhere, oppa. I even asked my mom if this is what they call love at first sight, and sh-she said that it could very well be, so I decided to take the chance”—"what a sweet girl, that was a lot of good adjectives, too”, your heart tells you while listening to her—“and then you showed me your how kind and sweet you really are, and I couldn’t help but to fall even deeper for you”, she covers her face again after finishing her piece, visibly shy about confessing to you. Needless to say, you’re very satisfied with her answer, so you reward her with a passionate kiss, “I love you so much, Yoon Seoyeon, and I don’t care if I sound like a broken record every time I say it. Let’s put on some clothes before going to sleep, okay?”. You get some T-shirts and shorts for the two of you, putting them on for her. You also make sure that her clothes are hung neatly in the wardrobe so that they’re not creased since she’s probably wearing that again tomorrow.

You two get ready to end this eventful day by cuddling, getting ready to get some sleep. So, for the last time tonight, “I love you, sweetie. I can’t wait to spend more time with you in the future”, “I love you more, oppa. Thank you for everything”. With her last statement, the both of you drift off to sleep. You still can’t believe how lucky you are to have her not only fall for you but also call her yours.

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter

Jessie Fleming x Physio!Reader

Preview: Reader is following in her mother’s footsteps in becoming a physiotherapist and gets the opportunity to spend the afternoon with the Canadian women’s soccer team.

Warnings: none

WC: 3.7k

A/N: this is going to be a few parts

You couldn’t believe you were attending ‘bring your kid to work day’ with your mom as a 22 year old but here you were, in the car on the way to her work.

“Are you sure I’m not too old to be coming with you?” You questioned your mom.

“It’ll be just like going to your clinical rotations. Plus you can put it on your resume, so it's really just helping you.” That’s how your mom had tried to convince you that you’d have fun coming to work with her. “Plus I talked with my boss, he said as of now we have an extra spot on the physio team to take someone to the Olympics, if you do well today, maybe it could be you.”

“Wouldn’t you want someone who's more qualified, not just a student?” You were in the process of obtaining your certification as a physiotherapist. You had finished your bachelor’s degree and were in the middle of your post graduate athletic therapy program.

“We have all the staff we need, they think bringing on someone young might be good. The players might like having someone closer to their age, not just all 40 and 50 year olds on their staff. Plus you’re plenty qualified, we have students in and out of the facility all the time.”

As a kid you always tagged along with your mom, you didn't have much of a choice, having a single mom who worked late hours in secondary schools meant your evenings were spent in her training room or on the sidelines of games. The older you got, the less you went with your mom, opting to stay home or spend time with friends instead of accompanying her at work. When you moved out to go to university you had chosen to follow in your Mom’s footsteps, intending to become a physiotherapist as well. At the same time you moved out, your Mom took on a new job, one that allowed her to travel more, a job with the Canada’s Women’s Soccer Team.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend the day with your mom, you were interested in seeing her work, it was more that you knew you'd be the oldest “kid” who was at her work, a lot of her other staff had either young children or kids that had moved away and were on with their own lives.

The ride to the training facility was short, you got out of the car, and walked into the front door. You followed your mom around the facility, having no idea where to go. She walked you down and around various hallways, saying hello to the other staff who passed with their small children. You just would give a polite hello and a wave before continuing down the hall.

It was a weird feeling, walking into a room of players you recognized from TV, players who were well known across the country and the world, and yet they greeted your Mom with a hello and questions about her weekend, as if they were friends.

“That is my daughter, she thinks she's too old to be here but she's studying to be a physio too so I figured I'd bring her here and get some free labor.” You hear your mom joking with the two players standing in front of her, she's pointing at you over her shoulder and the two players who you recognized to be Janine Beckie and Ashley Lawrence were looking over at you. You politely wave and move over in their direction.

“Hi.” Not knowing what to say to them, you just keep it short.

They both introduce themselves to you, you assume just being polite of them, it would be hard to not know who they were. One of the other physios comes in, taking Ashley to get taped, your mom taking Janine to work on her knee. Not sure what to do with yourself you just stand back, as if you were back to being a shy 6 year old in a new environment hiding behind your mom. You watch your mom work, she moves effortlessly, doing tasks in seconds that would take you minutes. You always admired your Mom at her work but you had a new appreciation now that you had begun school and realized how much work and time it took to learn everything.

Players come and go, getting various treatments, keeping the staff busy. You watch around, seeing the rest of the staff, how they work with the players, how they all seemed so relaxed and at ease.

“Hi Jessie, how are you, what do you need today?” Your mom looks past you toward the door where Jessie Fleming had walked in. Obviously you knew who she was, her olympic heroics from many years ago making her a Canadian household name. On top of her soccer talent that drew your attention as a kid, her appearance definitely didn't hurt. You had always found her pretty, a silly little school girl crush when you were younger watching her on TV as she played as a teenager, something that you had forgotten about over the years but her standing in front of you brought it all back up.

“Hi, I’m doing well. Can I just get my calf worked out? I’ve been having some tightness.” She looked at your mom, a polite smile across her face, she pointed at the empty table as she asked.

“Can you handle that?” You realize your mom is looking at you, asking you to help with Jessie as the rest of the staff is held up with other players. She’s asking you to help

“Um, yeah, sure.” You weren’t going to say no, plus you could handle a simple massage.

“Jessie, this is my daughter, she’s a physio student and plenty qualified to massage your calf, I promise.” You roll your eyes at your mom’s comment, feeling embarrassed that she has to explain that you’re able to help. You wash your hands and walk over to the table Jessie had sat down on.

“Hi, I’m Jessie.” She introduces herself, her hand extended for a handshake, you can't help but let out a small laugh at the fact that she of all people is introducing herself.

“I know who you are.” Your hand meets hers taking her handshake and you quickly introduce yourself to her. Her hand is soft but her handshake is firm, it only lasts a second before you pull back, pointing to her legs.

“Which calf?” You look at her. She points to her left before taking off her sock and she rolls over onto her stomach shifting up the table so that just her foot is hanging off the edge. You grab lotion and rub it into your hands before placing your hands slowly onto Jessie’s leg. You take a few passes of your hands over her leg before starting to dig into the muscle. It doesn't take you long to find the knot that is resting in her leg, focusing on it. You feel Jessie clench her muscle and slightly pull her leg away. You quickly lighten the pressure you were putting on her and you look at the direction of her face. You see a small grimace across her face.

“Are you good?” The last thing you want is to hurt the captain of the team, that probably wouldn't go over well with anyone.

“Yeah it's just sore. I’ve had some previous injury with it.” You knew that, you knew about most of the players' previous injuries, they were publicly announced anyway and you liked to keep up with your mom on what she was doing at work.

“Sorry.” Not sure if it's appropriate to apologize, you do it anyway.

“Oh don’t be, it’s never been a huge injury so I’m lucky. Unless you were saying sorry about the soreness, but then don’t worry, it’s sort of a good hurt I guess.” She stumbles a bit with their words, looking back at you over her shoulder. With her confirmation that the pain wasn’t bad, you return your pressure to her leg, working your fingers deep into her skin.

“Is she doing alright Jessie?” The voice of your Mom comes from behind you, you turn to see her walking up toward you, finished with the other athletes.

“She might be better than you.” Jessie laughs joking with your mom. “No but seriously she's doing great.”

“I taught her well then.” Your mom gives you a pat on the shoulder before walking away and moving to a desk to do some paperwork.

You finish up with Jessie’s calf, letting her know she should be good to go, the knot being worked out. She stands up with a smile and thanks you for the help. She uses your name when she thanks you which causes a small blush to come across your cheeks. You can't keep your eyes off of her as she walks out to head to the field. When she turns the corner and out of your sight you shake your head, trying to clear your mind as you feel the small childhood crush come crawling back up.

You clean up the table you had been working on, putting the lotion away and wiping down the table with sanitizer. Moving over to where your mom was working, she was completing reports for each of the players who had come in for treatment, she passed them to you to file once she’s completed with them. When the paperwork is done you follow her out to the pitch. You find yourself sitting on the bench, watching as the players work through drills, your mom occasionally going to chat with the coaching staff or other physios.

You couldn't help but watch Jessie, watching how effortlessly she made moving the ball look, how much power and control she had on the ball, it was fascinating. On a couple of occasions you found yourself admiring her physique a little too much, watching as her muscles twitch with every movement. You also started to notice she was favoring her weight on her right leg the longer practice went on.

“Mom.” You get your mom’s attention, not wanting to make the call yourself on if Jessie’s movements were unusual. “Does Fleming usually favor her right leg?”

“What?” She moves over closer to you, looking out to the field in the direction of Jessie. You both watch as Jessie takes another pass, moving upfield with the ball. “Oh, no she doesn't, I mean she prefers her right foot, but not like that.”

At the next water break you see your mom sitting in front of Jessie, hand on her calf, you watch as they talk about your mom maneuvering her leg. When the team moves back to the field, the players and coaches bring out their kids, letting them join in on games. Jessie stays sitting, now talking with your mom and the coach. She then stands up, your mom following her in your direction.

“Can you take her inside? I want to be overcautious and treat her for a calf strain, heat pack, use the TENS unit, then have her roll out, ice and tape.” Your mom throws a laundry list of tasks at you.

“Of course.” You stand up, grabbing your water and phone from next to you before heading in the direction of the physio room.

“Sorry you're getting stuck with me again.” You apologize to Jessie, trying to make small talk with the girl and also hoping she doesn’t feel like she’s getting stuck with just the student again.

“Oh, I don't mind. I wasn't really joking earlier when I said you did a better job than your mom.” She gives you a smile, you feel the flutter in your stomach. Her praise is nice, but it's the smile that she's giving you that makes your stomach flip, it’s gentle and friendly. “Don't take that the wrong way, your mom is excellent, just it was different, you were more thorough maybe, I’m not sure, it was just different.” Jessie rambles.

“That's probably because I’m more nervous about messing up than they are.” You’re honest, you were doing everything to the exact standard, following the expectations you had been taught in class, yet to develop your own style.

“You’re nervous?” She seems surprised.

“I mean, wouldn’t you be, being brought into a professional sports team and being asked to help that team's captain while you're still a student? I mean I guess you’re usually level headed, penalty machine and all.” Thankfully you have half a brain to not throw in that the captain being attractive was definitely adding to your nerves.

“Oh believe me, I was nervous for those penalties but I’ve always thought nerves are good, they show you care. How much more school do you have?” She continues with the small talk.

“Just another semester. And then licensing tests, but just a semester of school.”

“That's exciting, do you know what you are going to do after that?” You make your way into the training room, holding the door open for Jessie to walk through.

“I don’t know, probably work at some secondary school to start, work my way up to bigger teams, I'll have to see what options I have. Go ahead and sit up on the table.” You point at the table at the end of the room as you move over to where the heat packs were stored. Jessie is sitting on the table, watching you when you turn around. You lift her foot, placing the heat pack on the table before placing her calf down on top of it.

“Is it still just sore or is it more sharp now?” Turning the conversation back to a more professional topic away from the small talk about yourself.

“Just sore, feels like a sore muscle.”

“You know, it's nice to actually meet you finally.” When you give her a confused look, she continues “I just mean your mom talks a lot about you.”

“Oh that's embarrassing.” You regret saying it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you loved your mom, you know you shouldn’t be embarrassed about her talking about you.

“No, it's actually really sweet, I hope my parents talk about me even half as much as your mom talks about you. She’s so proud of you. You're her world.”

“Yeah, I know, it was always just the two of us. I know she misses me when I’m at school, I feel bad leaving her sometimes.” You look down, then realize youre probably giving way too much information to someone who likely doesn't care. “Sorry, I don't mean to talk about my personal stuff.”

“No problem, I don't mind, it's nice talking to you,” she quickly corrects her sentence “to someone closer to my age.”

You pull up a stool and sit with Jessie while she uses the heat pack. When the heat pack starts to cool off you slide over and start digging around for the TENS unit your mom recommended. When you’ve opened your third cabinet and had no luck finding it Jessie speaks up.

“They keep the TENS over there.” She points across the room to a different cabinet. You push up off the stool and move over to where she pointed, opening a drawer and finding it quickly.

“Sorry, I obviously don’t know where anything is, I didn't have time to really get acclimated this morning.” You feel embarrassed, already feeling inferior being the student but now being clueless and having to have Jessie tell you where everything is.

“That’s alright.” She reassures you. You move back and attach the pads onto her calf, turning the machine on low and handing her the controls and tell her to leave it on for 10 minutes. She messes with the controls of a second before setting down the remote and slightly leaning back, her arms propped behind her. Not knowing what to do with yourself you stand up and move over to the other tables where rolls of tape, bandaids, scissors, and various other tools used by the trainers are askew. You tidy up, finding where things belong through your own searching.

“So what do you do outside of school?” You had gotten used to the silence that Jessie’s voice breaks.

“Well school takes up most of my time, I wish I could travel more, I miss going to new places, seeing new things. But unfortunately school turns me into a pretty boring person.”

“Maybe you’ll get a travel experience this summer eh?” You turn at her, you’re assuming she’s implying going with your mom to Paris for the Olympics. “Your mom mentioned she wanted you to come with the team.”

“Yeah she said something about it to me, I mean I’d have to have her boss, Mark, pick me, I think there’s a few people they’re looking at for the trip. She thinks it’ll be a good experience for me for future jobs. I know it would look good on a resume and all but I also don’t want to get the opportunity just because my mom is here.”

“If it means anything you have my vote, the other people have been boring.” Jessie quickly says. “Sorry that’s not what I meant. I just meant, you’ve been the best one they’ve tried out. You care the most, at least it seems like you do. Plus you’re easy to talk to, the rest were too caught up on work, some of them stressed me out just being around them. And no one else was as observant. Your mom mentioned you were the one to see I was putting my weight off center, that’s why it’s important to have fresh eyes.”

“Yeah, I just happened to be watching, I get told I’m observant a lot.” You move your hands to take the TENS unit off of her gently peeling the pads from her skin. You move to grab her the foam ball across the room, tossing it in her direction. Jessie tried to catch it, it bounces off her hands, into her face and then onto the floor.

“Oh my god sorry, I didn’t mean to throw it that hard.” You throw your hands in her direction apologizing. Moving quickly across the room you pick up the ball where it had rolled before gently placing it in her hand.

“Nope, that was my fault. There’s a reason I play a foot sport.” She laughs. Her laugh is beautiful, it fills the room momentarily. It makes you feel light inside.

Just as she moves to the floor to begin rolling out her calf, the training room door opens and in comes the loud crowd of her teammates. They move in all directions across the room, some moving to the ice bath, some moving to grab heat packs. Some move to take off tape, tossing it in the trash. It’s loud, conversations in every direction and you’re quickly swept away, your arm being pulled by your mom as she moves you over to where the ice cooler was. You’re instructed to make ice bags for the players who want them and help them wrap the ice wherever they want it. It’s an easy task but it takes you away from Jessie, no longer having the quiet privacy of the training room.

You wrap arms and legs and shoulders and backs and feet with ice. You can’t help but keep glancing at Jessie, she was still rolling her calf, chatting with her teammates as they walked by. On a couple instances you caught her looking back at you, she’d give a quick smile before looking away. You finish the last player requesting ice and when you look up Jessie is now sitting on the table with Mark, he’s taping her calf. A small part of you feels jealous, which is insanely stupid you tell yourself, she’s his player not yours, he’s the head trainer, you’re not even one, it should be him doing the work.

Only a few minutes later, Jessie hops off the table, giving you a wave and a shout of thanks before leaving the room. Only staff remained, the rest of the players on their way home for the day. You finish cleaning up, asking your Mom a couple of times where everything belongs, making sure nothing gets put away in the wrong place.

It feels like time has flown by in the eight hours that you have been at the training center, before you know it you’re headed out to the car with your mom, the same way you came in this morning.

“Mark wanted to extend the offer for you to spend the rest of the summer here, and for the Olympics. He’s going to give you a call tomorrow, but he gave me a heads up. It can probably count as some clinical work for school, he said he’ll just have to get the paperwork sorted. Something about high praises from a certain team captain.” Your mom nudges you with her shoulder. You look at her and you can tell she’s being suggestive with her wording.

“What?” Your cheeks begin to flush slightly. “You’re the one who kept sticking her with me.”

“I know, I also know you had a little crush when you were younger.” She teases. You just roll your eyes, not wanting to give yourself away.

“Oh my god mom that was years ago, she’s not my type.” It was true, your dating history was littered with blonde preppy girls with terrible personalities, quite literally the opposite of Jessie. Hoping that fact would help your argument that you didn’t still have a crush on Jessie and it seemed to as your mom dropped the topic.

“I know honey, I’m only kidding you. You can drive, I’m tired.” She places the keys in your hand. You don’t mind driving, you turn back looking at the facility, realizing you could be spending your summer everyday here didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

[teabutmakeitazure]

Dissimulation

>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)

>Word Count: 11.6k words (slow burn)

>a/n: my offering for best boy's birthday

Warnings: coercion, Childe doesn’t know how to flirt, blood is finger licking good, panic attack

An unwelcome customer turned into an unwelcome acquaintance has been terrorising your life starting from your minimum wage job. Perhaps your flight back home is your only way out.

Continuation | reasons why Childe is #1 husband | Continued Again

Patience is a sign of virtue. Or at least that’s what your mother taught you when you were growing up. No, it’s all just some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them.

Regardless, you don’t say anything, tired already as it is and just wait for the month to be over so that you can get your pay and go back home.

Even if he seems to like you, you would rather not push your luck. Despite only being in this city as a student, you’ve picked up that it’s best not to engage with the local mafia members, even if they seem friendly. Just keep your head down and return the greeting if given one. If one of them comes to your shop, treat them as a regular patron, and if a fight breaks out somewhere with one of them, do not take sides. Simply leave as quietly as you can.

Unfortunately, you have no such choice or opportunity to keep contact to a minimum. That is why you opted to bide your time and sneak out as quickly as you can and never opt for minimum wage jobs again. Maybe you could get a paid internship next time. You’ll probably meet the course requirements.

The dreaded convenience store you are currently walking to is situated a ten minute walk away from your campus dorms. Having to stay there and beep items all day was its own form of punishment as it was, but with the crowd that had recently started to come in these last few months, it started to seem more like a form of purgatory.

You still remember the lecture your friend had given you on how to act normal around the mafia community. The fact that they recently got active in this neighbourhood is simply an added bonus. Honestly, you’ve been counting the days when your incarceration will end with your flight. You just want to go home and hug your cats first, family members second. 

The bell chimes as you walk inside, and you sigh when you see the mess of ginger hair and a dangling red earring already waiting for you. At least this time his back is turned while he scrolls his phone even if he is sitting near the register.

About that, where’s the manager? He should be at the register right now since your shift just started.

“You’re late,” the dreaded man scrolling his phone points out, eyes not leaving the phone screen.

Keeping your friend’s advice in mind, you decide to reply before twisting the knob to the employee room. “Sorry. I was doing laundry.” A lie but you aren’t going to tell him that you got distracted watching cat videos.

No greetings were exchanged and he didn’t even look up at you. Strange, but it’s best to only reply when talked to. Getting too friendly might backfire.

Still, you decide to say something just for good measure.

“Is the manager in today?” you ask, eyes on him while your hand remains on the knob.

All you receive in response is a shrug.

Thus, you enter the employee room, and there you have it! Mister manager sits on the desk in all his white polo shirt glory.

The door hinges squeak loudly behind you when you close the door. Stepping to the desk, his head slowly rises to look at you when you greet him, but he doesn’t respond. After you’ve slipped on the employee uniform jacket and pinned your nametag, he speaks.

“I may have made a mistake.”

That causes you to frown. “What happened?”

“The guy outside… I… I didn’t realise he’s a high ranking member. I may have asked him to leave because he’s been here for half an hour already and… well…”

“Well, what?”

He shakes his head. “Well, he sort of jokingly said that the building belongs to his division and that the store could close if he wanted it to.”

“...”

“Look. I know you’re a student, so I promise I’ll pay you somehow, but please! He listens to you, right? Try to appease him!”

                        

You groan. “I’m sure he meant it as a joke.”

“Please!”

“Alright alright. I’ll… try.”

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re going to do. He’s a higher ranking member, you know that much, but why he even bothers to be so friendly and chatty with you is out of your scope of understanding. At least now those tough looking ones that drop by in the evening don’t test your patience anymore.

Cautiously, you open the employees room door and head back outside. There’s still no one in the store, but you know that afternoon rush hour is about to start. With you on the register seat, the dreaded man who will stay with you on another shift turns his body to face you, phone immediately slipping into his pocket.

“So,” he drawls, “was the manager inside?”

You put your phone on the little shelf underneath the cash drawer. “Yes. He was inside.”

“Was he mad?”

“Um no.” You look at him questioningly, brow raising when he just smiles. “Should he be?”

“Who knows?”

“Right…”

Silence ensues and you briefly ask yourself why he’s less chatty today. You can’t believe that it’s concerning you. Sure, he’s a very dangerous person if he’s so young and in the mafia of all things, but dangerous people are downright terrifying if pissed. At least you’re not the one at fault. Besides, three more weeks and it will be time for your flight.

You just hope you make it.

“Something on your mind?”

He’s looking at you now, cheek resting in his palm. He’s even gotten closer, next to you to be precise. You don’t think you heard him get closer.

Nervously, you give a little laugh. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Dull blue eyes bore into yours, gently forcing you to answer truthfully. The lack of vitality in them unnerves you but that is precisely what compels you to answer.

“Well… the manager said that you might get the store to close…”

“That? I didn’t think he’d tell you. Anyway, I was messing around,” he smiles. “You’re a student, so it would be unfair to you to suffer in consequence to him.”

The statement doesn’t make you feel any better. “Ah, you’re too kind sir Tartaglia.”

Like before, the way you addressed him makes him frown. “Just call me Childe. Tartaglia is only for my men. Though… if you would prefer…” he leans in, hand that was previously holding his face now gripping the edge of the table as he whispers dangerously close to your ear, “I’d gladly tell you my birth name.”

He backed away again, a smile on his face. “And I know you wouldn’t tell anyone haha.”

How do you even reply to that?

Scratch that, should you even reply to that?

He’s looking at you again, that smile that doesn’t reach his eyes gracing his lips and impatience oozing from his face. You sense that he’s waiting for an answer so you try your best to comply.

“Understood... Childe.”

The name feels foreign on your tongue, and you blame the unfamiliarity on the nervousness that comes with being near him. Thankfully your answer seemed to appease him and he happily nodded.

Okay, one problem solved. You’ll get your minimum wage salary. Another problem. You’ll have to endure the awkwardness because you don’t have it in you to call him out.

As if on cue, your employer exits the employee room and heads for the exit without even looking at you. The fast walking didn’t make his exit any graceful, but it did make it seem important with how Childe eyed his movements.

Silence settles again as you blankly stare at the empty store in front of you. Regrettably, you’re a little worried about what might happen when you’ll be back after summer vacation. You never told him that you’re leaving for home and the white polo dunce of a manager has been sworn to secrecy about it after he flat out told Childe which institution you study at right in front of you.

Protecting your personal details is your job, so you’ve taken it into your own hands. It isn’t wise to tell a mafia member who obviously pines to be more than just acquaintances about your personal life and details. Thus, you will slip away to home on a weekend flight.

What happens after you’re back is something you didn’t consider.

Well, almost two months would have passed by then. Surely he wouldn’t care anymore… right?

You hope he doesn’t. Perhaps it would be best to avoid this neighbourhood. Maybe even look into school transfers to be safe.

“Something’s on your mind again.”

His voice cuts through the air like a dart and lodges into your head. Is it so wrong to simply want some peace? No wait. Peace is bad. If he's quiet then that’s bad. You’ll have to humour him.

Thus, you take a deep breath. Act normal, you tell yourself. You aren’t the criminal here. You’re a humble student trying to earn some money. Relax. 

“Well,” you drawl, “I’m just spacing out.”

You don’t even look at him, eyes still fixed on the empty store.

“You must be thinking about something.”

Grumbling, you internally curse your luck. Patience is running out and you don’t know how long you can remain civil with him breathing down your neck like this. Maybe he had a bad day and that’s why he’s more inquisitive than chatty.

“Nothing,” you sigh. “I’m not thinking about anything. Just waiting for rush hour to start so that my shift can go by quickly and I can go home and sleep.”

“Hm.” He’s closer now, and you can see him in the corner of your eye. “So you’re tired of this job?”

“Tired of the people that come here actually. Most of them are so shady it’s unreal.” Now that that’s said, you hope he doesn’t realise that the jab is actually at him.

“I realise that. I saw what kind of crooks used to come here. They mostly thought they could intimidate the people working here, but all that’s in the past now.”

Well, you do owe him the credit of straightening them out. If it wasn’t for Childe, you’d still have to endure taunts from those weirdos about how they can take anything from the store and you can’t do anything about it. Regardless, you can’t be certain whether his presence is actually good or bad.

“Anyway,” he’s behind you now, hands suddenly on your shoulders, “you’re not from here, right? Any plans to visit home for the summer?”

Well… shit.

How do you go about this… 

You never told him that you’re not from this city, so that can only mean that white shirt dunce did. Great. 

“I’m not sure,” you reply. Would it be wise to ask him how much he knows? Childe does seem to be friendly in all the weeks you’ve known him. Ah. You’ll take that chance. Slowly turning around in your chair, his hands remove themselves from your shoulders when you face him. “Did my manager tell you anything?”

Now you’re looking into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.

“I asked him about it. He told me that you might go home for the summer if you can afford the ticket.”

Okay so maybe the manager saved you a little there, but you still need to answer him. So, you settle with going with what he said. 

Nodding, you look at Childe standing in front of you again. “I'm planning to decide by the end of this month. If I do go home, I'll put in a one week notice. Hopefully it isn't a problem."

He smiles. "Don't worry. It won't be."

You can't tell if he's comforting you or making notes to assist you. Either way, he doesn't know about your flight. Figuring out how to get him off your back when you come back for the next semester will be for when you're home.

"Anyway," Childe says, breaking the silence, "are you doing anything after your shift?"

Where did that come from?

Tilting your head a little, you act innocent in hopes he gets the hint. "Depends on what I'm asked. I do have some pending work. Why? Do you need me for something?"

"No. Just asking. What about tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure about tomorrow yet…"

Childe chuckles. "Then how about you make a reservation for the evening, with me?"

"W-why?"

"I just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that alright?"

Did… did you just get asked out on a date?

Seeing your confusion, Childe chuckles again. “I promise I’m not going to kidnap you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll just take you out, treat you to dinner, and drop you home. No shady stuff.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, tongue teasingly peeking out.

You suppose there’s no way out of this, but still try nonetheless. “What if something important comes up? Would it be okay to… cancel…?”

His hands go back to his hips. “Important? What could be more important?”

“Um, my summer courses? I still get assignments for those…” You hope that doesn’t offend him, but judging from his face he looks more confused than angry.

Childe clicks his tongue, a scolding look on his face. “You can’t get an assignment with a same day submission date, so that’s out of the question. But hearing your response, it’s alright if you’d rather not go.” He sits back down, arms crossed. “I would prefer it if you'd be honest with me. Prevaricating with lies is more than just annoying, you know.”

In the silence of the store, you can feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, the thump a scolding sound for your stupidity. If he’s angry with you, who knows what could happen. “No! Not at all. That’s not what I meant.” Your patience is still being tested but at this very moment you’re more fearful. “I’m just worried because those courses are counted in my cumulative GPA, and I can’t afford to let it drop!”

“So you’re only worried about your grades?”

“Yes!”

“And you’re not opposed to getting dinner with me?”

“Yes! Wait…”

He smiles. “Go on~”

You narrow your eyes at him, fear all gone and annoyance taking its place. “I sense I’ve made a mistake here.”

The teasing smile turns into an encouraging one and with a sigh, you surrender. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

He gives a little celebratory ‘yes’ but you cut him short. “But I need to be back home by ten max.”

“Wait… your shift ends at seven…”

You cross your arms, finally getting back at him. “And what about it?” Seriously. Was he planning to hog your entire evening?

“That’s way too short!”

“I have a curfew placed on me by my mother back home. If I phone her any later than ten pm local time, she loses it. I would rather not be screamed at.”

“Alright. That’s fair.”

Now that that’s done, you still can’t believe you just agreed to a date with him.

However, Childe looks more than just ecstatic. He’s practically jumping in his seat, leg bouncing up and down and a wide smile on his face. When you raise a brow at that, he just smiles at you, practically oozing happiness.

He stays the same way, quiet and happy and fidgety as customers start to come in. As usual, he doesn’t say anything while you’re ringing them up and just stares. It’s when the rush dies down a little and only one guy is in the store that he speaks.

“Don’t you ever get tired of working so hard?”

You look at him from the corner of your eye. With his face in his palm, he’s staring directly at you. “I’m beeping items with a barcode scanner. I don’t see why it’s hard.”

“It is actually,” Childe says, firm in his statement. “I think you’re just used to the extra work so you don’t find it bothersome.”

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“Hm. You deserve better. Perhaps… someone who would take care of you, no questions asked. Someone… who would treat you as you deserve, cherish you, and make you happy.”

The way he speaks makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t let it show. Patience, you remind yourself. A few more weeks and you’ll be gone.

“There’s no need for others to look at you like this.” He sighs, “I hope that changes soon.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you’re grateful the guy who was browsing the drinks for the last five minutes finally came to the counter. You busy yourself with billing him, but Childe just… stares. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second.

Now, the regret of agreeing to dinner seeps in.

The customer leaves, and as soon as the door closes, you hear a phone buzzing. Before you even look at your phone, Childe has already pulled his out of his pocket and answers. He doesn’t give a response to whatever was said on the other side, brows furrowing as he cuts the call.

The chairlegs drag against the floor when he stands. “Sorry but I have to go.”

You don’t dare question the oddity despite your surprise to him leaving before your shift ends. “Alright.”

“I’ll pick you up outside your dorm. Is that okay?”

“Okay but what time-”

“I have your number. I’ll text you, don’t worry.”

With that, he’s out, leaving you confused inside the store. Considering the lack of smile and the fact that this is the first time he left before seven pm, it must have been something work related.

You just hope nothing advances after the dinner tomorrow.

-

He really does have your number. You don’t remember ever giving it to him, so you don’t dare question how he got his hands on it. At exactly 8: 06 pm he texted you that he would pick you up at 7: 30 pm outside your dorm tomorrow. That means that you would have around ten minutes to get ready. 

Ten minutes are too much. You’re only going to change, maybe put on some lip gloss if you look too dead. No makeup and no accessories that could possibly make you look more attractive. Simple and plain is the goal.

Speaking of dinner, you’re going to have dinner with a mafioso. Perhaps you really should look into school transfers during the summer.

This sort of vicissitude was not welcome in the slightest, but you’ll have to work around it. If nothing else, you’re thankful that Childe is respectful of most basic boundaries and hasn’t attempted anything yet. Maybe if he wasn’t working where he was, you would’ve given him the time of day.

At 8: 19 pm, he texts you again. ‘Make sure to dress well :) I’d like to see you in a dress if you have any.’

Dress? Does he mean a fancy one? You send back a message asking for clarification, but he only replies with, ‘Anything casual and cute would work.’

Casual and cute… is he really bluntly asking you that?

- 

7: 17 pm. You kick off your shoes and head inside, dashing straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You’re less tired than usual because of Childe’s absence at the store today, something that made the manager anxious, but you didn’t dare tell him about the date.

7: 23 pm. You change into the baby blue Gingham maxi dress you bought a week before finals. It flows just fine, and you grace the look only with pearl studs. Wallet and phone are shoved into the pockets of the dress, and to not look soulless, you apply some lip gloss. The gloss is also stuffed into your pocket in case you want to reapply it later, which you would rather not but you never know. 

7: 28 pm. You set your hair again and slip on your sandals. One last look in the mirror and you give yourself a thumbs up. The look is something you would wear to a casual hangout with friends. Doesn’t look very try-hard or date-like. Perfect.

7: 30 pm. You open the door and head out. Pushing the elevator button, you check your phone for any messages while the elevator reaches your floor. Sudden nervousness makes you a little nauseous, but you breathe in slowly, telling yourself it’s no big deal.

The elevator door opens and as you step in, you collide with a very firm body. One look to the face of this body, and you’re frozen.

“Going somewhere?”

You nervously chuckle. “Childe. What’re you doing here?”

He ushers you both inside the elevator, pushing the ground floor button. “I’m here to pick you up? Did you forget about dinner?”

“Ah, no… it’s just… they don’t allow outsiders without a resident escorting them. I was going to wait in the lobby.”

“Really? The watchman let me in pretty easily.”

You don’t even want to know what that means.

“Anyway,” Childe says, voice louder than the gentle elevator music, “you look lovely.”

You glance at his maroon button down and roman silver dress pants, eyes resting on his earring. “Thanks. You look… fine as well.”

“Fine? I only look fine?” He’s leaning towards you now, and the elevator suddenly feels too small. Before you can be pressured into a reply, the doors open and you hastily step out into the lobby.

A chuckle comes from behind you, and soon you’re following him outside to a black car parked a little farther from the dorm entrance. With every step you take, you pray that no one left in your building for the summer catches you.

The car is unlocked with a beep, and though you’re a borderline broke student with no knowledge of expensive things because you can’t afford them so why bother, you can tell that the car is expensive. Or maybe it’s just polished to perfection, but it looks expensive.

Regardless, this is the hard part. Do you sit in the front seat or the back seat? The back seat would be rude but the front seat would be too straightforward. The front seat is too intimate and close but the back seat is too alienating. Shit. What do you do?

You leave your choice to luck and close your eyes, reaching for a door handle. Whichever you grab will be where you sit. Upon grabbing one, you open the door just to hear another one open as well. You open your eyes and a car speeds by at the same time.

Childe stands next to the open front seat door, a brow raised as he looks at you incredulously. You look at him, then to the door you just opened, then to him again. The door you opened is graced with your gaze once again before it’s Childe’s turn.

It’s silent, awkward, and you can’t shake the feeling that you messed up before the date even started.

“Would you… prefer the back seat?”

You blink at him, courage all gone when you reply. “Ah, no! It’s not that. I-I just wasn’t thinking. Sorry…”

Childe’s brow is still raised. “Okay. I’m not your driver. I’m your date. So, I’d like it if you sat in the front.”

Shit. Everything has gone to shit. You agreed to the dinner just to appease him and leave things on a good note instead of a sour one, yet you’ve already made things bad. Great job, [Name]. Aren’t you just wonderful?

Awkwardly, you close the door you opened and get in, allowing Childe to shut the door next to you before slipping into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, puts on his seatbelt, cracks his fingers, and folds his sleeves to the elbow before exiting the parking and going onto the road.

Your seatbelt feels uncomfortable in the heavy silence. Thoughts of what Childe might do if displeased swirl inside your mind but you frankly don’t know what. He seems to like you. He has never mistreated you besides being creepy a few times. Perhaps he’d forgive you. He always says your airheadedness is cute.

The pounding heart inside your chest gets more aggressive when Childe clears his throat, lips parting to give you another mini heart attack. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret.”

The pounding heart quiets down a little, confusion kicking away some of the anxiety. “Then it’s good I didn’t ask out of my own accord.”

A secret? What does he mean by that? Scratch that, is the location being a secret a good thing or a bad thing? Should you text your live location to someone? But all your friends are gone for the summer. That one girl you’re acquainted with on one of the upper floors might help if you disappear. At the very least, your jokes in the conversations you’ve had might at least let her sympathise enough to report your status to the police.

“Are you scared?”

Childe’s question makes you look at him, your heart going back to pounding crazily upon seeing his smile. “S-should I be?”

“No. You should never be scared when you’re with me.” His eyes are still on the road. “I realise you have a negative impression of me, but there’s no reason for you to be scared. Well, not you but others should be, but that’s besides the point.”

“Ah. I see.” No. You don’t see, but just go along.

“Mhm. That dress looks amazing on you.”

He takes a right turn at the green traffic light, and you briefly glance at his flexing arms as the steering wheel turns. “Thanks,” you reply. “The dress has pockets.”

As a demonstration, you pull out your phone and show it to him. Childe chuckles at that, calling it cute and you find your heartbeat growing tamer. The phone is shoved back inside and pleasant conversation fills the car on the way.

Childe asks about how university is, how your finals went, and how you’ve come to find the city. You answer the last question truthfully, hands fidgeting as you tell him about your reservations with the ‘law and order’ situation and how you’ve been begged to steer clear of the mafia. The statement is followed by a joke of you doing a horrible job at that, and Childe laughs, saying that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone in the city anymore.

The comforting sentence doesn’t comfort you at all.

The car stops in front of a restaurant and Childe opens the door to allow you to step out. Keys are given for valet parking, and Childe takes your hand as he leads you inside. Thankfully, it’s not as fancy as you thought. It’s not even as expensive, the kind of restaurant where you could arrange a fancy friend get-together. 

The not so high end restaurant doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but sitting across Childe does. He apparently made a reservation for the rooftop, so here you are, wind gently blowing in your hair as he unbuttons another button of his shirt.

“Do you like it?” He’s looking at you now, eyes briefly going to your phone when you place it on the table.

“It’s… nice.”

“I didn’t choose somewhere any fancier because I figured you might get uncomfortable. Next time though.”

Next time? Good God what is he planning?

Your face may have given it away because he's tilting his head at you, earring dangling in tandem as he acts coy. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the idea?"

"N-no. That's not it…"

"Hm?"

You gulp. "Ah it was just a little sudden. That's all."

"I'm glad." He's back to smiling now, face resting on his palm. "I'll make sure to treat you like how you should be next time."

Again, next time? Not happening.

Childe grabs the menu, requesting that you let him order for you both. He says something about the taste of home and this restaurant being the only one able to recreate that, but you don't bother. You simply brush him off, telling him he can go ahead.

It's when a few minutes have passed since ordering that he speaks again. Luckily, the clanking of plates and chatter helps tone down your nervousness.

"I come here whenever I miss home. This restaurant actually originated from my homeland, so I thought I'd bring you here. It's not high end as well, so that's an added bonus."

You nod. "Interesting."

Elbow on the table, he rests his chin on the back of his hand, blue eyes studying you carefully. The observant gaze makes you feel small, and you end up clearing your throat when his gaze drops to your collarbone.

You look him in the eye as you speak. "It's a little awkward, isn't it?" 

He tilts his head like earlier again. "What is?"

"The silence."

"Ah. Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You look stunning."

Unlike the previous times, the compliment makes your cheeks heat up. It's probably because this time he's looking right at you with the faint hint of red on his cheekbones. Seriously. He's so human. You wonder how he ended up being in the mafia.

Childe doesn't allow silence to settle again, chatting away about his homeland and how he misses the snow. He says it's easier to go outside in this city's climate, but the memories and people back home make living there worth it. During his rambling, you simply nod along, only adding in a comment wherever you deem necessary.

Patience, you tell yourself. This'll pass. At least you're fortunate in the sense that Childe is accommodating and nice. 

He continues rambling, telling you about his younger siblings. Fulgent expression and energetic voice, you lean forward to give him your attention, content that he's making good conversation. As you listen to him, your fingers start fidgeting with the cutlery set in front of you.

Your eyes remain on him as he recounts a story where his youngest brother Teucer refused to acknowledge his sister Tonia after she got a haircut. Hearing about the young child's inability to recognise his sister makes you chuckle which in turn makes Childe pause to look at you with widened eyes.

A smile stretches on his lips, and you trace the edges of the knife when he resumes. 

"Mama was pretty concerned about that. It took Teucer a few days to accept that his sister looks different now. Ah. I miss them. They're a lively bunch and I miss being with them."

Your thumb runs up and down the edge of the knife while it's clutched in your hand, face resting in the palm of your free hand. "You can visit them if you miss them that much."

Childe gently shakes his head, hair swaying with the movement. "It's not possible at the moment." At your confused expression, he clarifies, "I can't tell you why. It's confidential information."

"That's fair."

"But I am glad I still get to be here. I got to meet you, after all."

"Oh. That's… nice."

"Mhm." He's leaning towards you as well now, both arms resting on the table. "Any development in your plan to visit home? You should go. If you're having any problems with the plane ticket or something then-"

"Ouch!"

The knife drops from your hand, clattering dully on the table. Blood oozes from the pad of your thumb as your hands shake from the startle. It doesn't take Childe even a second to be on his guard.

"You cut your thumb?" He gets up, drags his chair beside you and sits, knees brushing against yours. "You were fidgeting with the knife… well, no matter."

Instead of grabbing a tissue, he takes a hold of your hand and stares at the bleeding cut. More blood oozes out of it the longer he stares and one drop even reaches your palm. However, that isn't what's bothering you. It's the fact that he just licked that blood trail. 

He licked it. And now he's sucking on where the cut should be.

The feeling of his tongue is what brings you back to your senses, confusion and panic overtaking your senses and overwhelming you. Pulling your hand away does nothing because his grip is too strong. Goodness, at least the few tables around you are empty and no one else seems to be looking.

"Childe."

He doesn't let go, pressing your thumb down against his tongue instead.

"Childe. Let go-"

A trail of saliva joins your thumb and his mouth. The two of you make eye contact and you notice a slight blush on his face. Childe then manoeuvres your hand, his lips on your palm as he tenderly kisses the skin messily. 

The action gives you goosebumps but you remain quiet, still confused about what's going on. It's when he finally lets go and presses a tissue to the cut that he speaks.

"Be careful."

You remain frozen, hand in his while the tissue remains pressed over your thumb. You can no longer hear the faint background chatter or feel the gentle breeze in your hair. In your senses are dull blue eyes, freckles dusted across cheekbones and nose, and warm breath fanning over your ear when he leans in.

Childe's voice is a whisper, the edges of his hair tickling your cheek as the chair quietly croaks. "You shouldn't be playing with dangerous things."

He leans back again. With a smile, Childe gets up, drags his chair back to where it was, and seats himself. The air surrounding you both is casual, light, like something completely out of the blue didn't occur. This gives you the hint that it's best to not talk about it.

Elbows on the table, both his palms hold his face as he looks at you with a smile. The skin under his eyes crinkles slightly, freckled cheeks squished, and long auburn eyelashes framing the deep blues. You sit there puzzled and feeling slightly violated while Childe continues staring.

It's honestly a little funny.

Right when you concluded that Childe was nice, he does something completely uncalled for. You remove the tissue that was pressed to your thumb, pleased to see that your blood cells have done their job and the platelets coagulated. It'll probably turn into a scab by the time you get home.

Dammit, now you're nervous all over again. Curse you mass of neurons floating in cerebral fluid! Be useful! Sure, he just sucked on your thumb, but keep it together.

When you look at him again, he's still staring. With a sigh, you ask him about his job, what kind of work he does, but Childe only shakes his head, refusing to answer.

His excuse smoothly exits via soft, pink lips. You didn't know you were looking at them until you heard him speak.

"I don't think you'd enjoy hearing about my job. Plus, it's all confidential."

You will yourself to look back into his eyes no matter how difficult eye contact may seem. "Shady? Is that what you're implying?"

"Hm." He hums. "Let's just leave it at that."

So he admits it? Great. You can't wait for the evening to be over. The bag of chips sitting at home sounds very comforting and appetising right now.

When he continues talking again, you start fidgeting with the edges of your sleeves under the table. You need a distraction. Using your phone would be rude, so you figure abusing the fabric of your sleeves is a better option. It takes a little while for your food to be here, but when it is, you compliment his order and ask him about his choice.

The question serves to keep the conversation easy and light while allowing you to only answer, not speak. This in turn allows nothing uncomfortable to occur during dinner. It’s thankfully uneventful until it's time to pay.

You had no qualms about paying for yourself, but being Childe, he told you he’d take care of it. You had no problem with that either. What you did have a problem with was what he said.

“Let me treat my girl.”

My girl. That’s what he called you. If that’s not a red flag, you don’t know what is. Despite that, you suck it in and let him take you home. Patience. You’ll leave soon and never show your face in his active districts again. Maybe you’ll even transfer schools if you’re lucky.

You’re really hoping you can transfer. He might come find you himself after you come back from summer break. Even with all those troublesome thoughts in mind, you act as casual as you could while sitting in his car as he drives you home. Conversation was nice, the thumb incident was borderline violating, but the meal was tasty.

The car stops near your dorm’s entrance, but before you could make any move to exit the car - hand hovering over the handle - Childe locks the doors. You turn to look at him but he’s already looking at you.

“I need to ask you something,” he says, voice unsure and eyes not meeting yours.

Tentatively nodding, you signal him to continue.

“Did you… enjoy yourself?”

“Huh?” You scold yourself mentally for the confused expression. Clearing your throat, you compose yourself. “Yeah. As far as enjoying dinner goes.”

His eyes finally meet yours, and the eye contact is intense. “I take it that you’d like to do this again?”

“...”

“I don’t mean immediately but maybe sometime in the future?”

Sighing, you slump in your seat. “I can’t be sure.” It’s better to make things clear and not lead him on, even if it’s harsh. “I’m not… looking for something right now. It would be unfair to say yes to you when I don’t mean it.”

Childe’s grip on the edge of his seat tightens, the leather squeaking as it gets abused. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like me, right?”

“Um, yeah.” You can’t pull your eyes away from his. “You’re… nice.”

He blinks. “I’m nice?”

“Yes.”

Childe’s mouth opens in disbelief before he goes back to his senses with a shake of his head. He leans towards you, hand grabbing the back of your seat and eyes widened. “So that means I have a chance?”

“Well,” you laugh awkwardly, “I never said you didn’t. I just said that-”

“I know I know. You’re not looking for something right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind later. I’m not going to do something weird, don’t worry. I just… won’t give up.” He’s smiling as he speaks, happy at the prospect of not being rejected. “I’ll keep trying!”

Honestly, the determination he has is cute but it’s almost 10 pm. “That’s great and all, but could you unlock the door? I really need to go.”

“Oh, of course.” The doors unlock with a soft click and Childe bids you goodbye with another concerning statement. “I’ll make sure you change your mind. It’s a promise.”

The chips in your room lived to see another day.

-

The events of last night’s dinner keep replaying in your mind. It’s like a curse, the moment when Childe grabbed your wrist and gently shoved your thumb inside his mouth. Even with the bandage over it, you can still feel the ghost of his tongue, wet and warm, licking it.

You stop in your tracks to shiver.

It’s infuriating how even on your way to your shift you can only think of him and how he promised to change your mind. So much for leaving without any trouble. Can’t he take a hint? Maybe he’s too dense. It does seem characteristic of him.

The bell chimes when you open the door and head inside. A few customers are browsing the store, one middle aged woman and two office workers to be precise, while the manager sits by the cash register. His white polo shirt greets you before he does and by the time you come back from the employee room changed into your uniform jacket and nametag, the customers are gone.

Beloved and totally not airheaded manager moves away from the register, handing you a little list of work to do and announces that he’s leaving to meet up with someone.

Not even ten minutes of him being gone and the dreaded blue eyed mafioso walks in.

The bell chimes to signal his arrival, and unfortunately you meet his eyes as he stands at the entrance. He’s dressed too casually today, a white T-shirt with some band name on it, blue jeans and white sneakers. If you weren’t aware of his lifestyle, you would’ve thought that he was just another young adult on the street.

“Hi!”

You return his greeting with a simple nod, and he comes in. The only sound is his footsteps till he stops on the other side of the register. You meet his dead eyes again, regret instantly seeping into your bones. Childe’s gaze is affectionate, soft. Being on the receiving end of such a look is overwhelmingly foreign and uncomfortable. 

The freckles dusted across his cheekbones and nose catch your attention, but they fail to be graced with your eyes for long. You immediately look away when you realise you started to stare.

Regardless, Childe acts as though he didn’t notice and rounds the register to sit on the chair next to you like always. He doesn’t speak of the date. Typical conversation plays out, much to your surprise, and you mentally curse yourself for expecting him to bring up yesterday evening.

However, it’s not his casual physiognomy that bothers you. It’s his friendliness and the fact that he has started messaging you like one would a friend. Just yesterday he had texted you for the first time in his life and now he’s spamming you funny videos and memes?

Should… should you be worried?

It might prove to be more difficult to shrug him off. You didn’t want to be harsh and outright reject him for him after how he had seemingly tried to be kind and took you out for dinner, but now it seems like that would have been the correct course of action. It’s not that you’re rejecting him solely on the basis of being a part of the mafia. It’s simply your desire to not be in a relationship right now.

Perhaps he’ll respect your wishes like he did last night, even if he did claim that he will keep trying.

-

You should not push your luck. Really. You shouldn’t. You shan’t do so.

First, you leave his meme spams on read. Then, you have the gall to address him as ‘sir Tartaglia’ again by mistake. The instant fall of his smile had sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you of why you told yourself to be careful. Just because he likes you doesn’t mean you’re safe.

Maybe you are, but that change of expression has creeped you out to no end. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

It has been two weeks since the dinner and Childe has settled with chatting with you over text during the late night hours. Tonight, however, you’ve put your phone away in favour of watching something on your laptop. The screen illuminates your face in the darkness of your room, and your phone’s buzzing briefly catches your attention.

You ignore it, obviously. You’re leaving in one week. This little ‘friendship’ or whatever one could call it is pointless. You’ve already planned on blocking Childe on all the socials he’s invaded as soon as you reach home, a step towards never seeing him again. The less you let him get attached, the easier it’ll be for him to forget you and move on.

-

Childe is… a little annoyed. You didn’t reply to any of his texts for a few days, leaving it on read since he sends some random videos after the texts. He let it slide at first, but now he’s bothered. It’s evident in the way he isn’t smiling or even talking to you for that matter. 

Not wanting to end up on his bad side permanently, you capitulate your ego. “Childe? Is something wrong?” You’re restocking the potato chips as you speak, head peeking over the short aisle to look at him while he sits at the register. “You seem off.”

He makes eye contact with a face devoid of any emotion as if that were the most natural thing to do in the situation. “Why do you ask?”

“I just said so. You seem off.”

“It’s nothing.” Childe looks away, opting to stare at his shoes. He’s wearing casual clothes today as well, something you noted he started doing more often after the date.

Seeing that he won’t budge, you go back to restocking but perk up again when you hear him speak, albeit very softly.

“You’re ignoring me,” he mumbles to himself.

So, you do what comes to mind. Leaving the chip packets on the floor of the empty store, you walk up to him, hands on your hips. “I’m ignoring you?”

He doesn’t look at you, his shoes the most interesting sight in the world. “Yeah.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You don’t talk to me. It’s always me who initiates the conversation.” He looks up, making eye contact. “Is it because I’m in the mafia and you don’t want anything to do with me?”

The subtle accusation makes you defensive immediately, and you stammer. “N-not at all-”

“It is, isn’t it?” The earring hanging from his ear briefly catches your attention when he tilts his head. “That’s why you lied and said that you weren’t looking for a relationship right now.”

“But I’m really not.”

“Relationships aren’t ‘looked for’. They just happen.” Childe leans back in his seat, making you grow more nervous. “And you don’t want one to happen with me just because of where I work.”

Your hands start fidgeting with each other on their own, tongue pushing against your mouth’s hard palate. It takes strength to reply to his imputation. “That’s not true…” Heart beating wildly in your chest, you push the words out. “It’s just… I don’t want a relationship right now.” Think brain, think! “It’s not you, it’s me.” Curse you mass of neurons and amygdala for thinking of this ginger as a serious threat. “So please, don’t think of reasons that aren’t true.”

“But they are true,” he states, like he’s telling you that the moon also exerts gravity on the earth, voice boring and flat. “You just refuse to admit it because you’re scared of me.” Childe’s eyes bore into yours again, seeing through your casual lies and crafted confidence.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You can’t fool me, [Name]. I’d prefer you to be truthful. Lies just get on my nerves.”

You gulp. There’s no way out of this now. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright. Just keep that in mind for next time.”

“...”

“How can I change your mind?”

“What?” You blink at him, not understanding what he’s asking you. “What do you mean?”

“How can I change your fear of me into attraction? I don’t like knowing that you’re afraid of me.” Childe’s expression turns into a pleading one. Genuine helplessness is written all over his physiognomy which in turn makes you uncomfortable. You feel small under his watchful gaze. It’s as though he’s watching every single movement and breath you take.

“I… don’t know…” Your hands hang by your sides as you stand in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line.

Voice gentle, he tries to persuade you once again. “Please. Tell me how to win your heart.”

“I… I don’t know.” There’s a pitiful helplessness in your voice now, and you don’t know what makes you want to tell him what you are about to. But you do. And you have to watch the realisation appear on his face. “I never wanted your attention.” Admitting that somehow leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “I never wanted anyone’s attention. All I am is a student trying to make ends meet while cussing out the degree I chose for myself.”

Eyes wide, Childe tries negotiating. “I could make your life better.” Hands slam the desk in front of him as he stands, barcode scanner jumping and falling back with a thunk. “I just need one chance. That’s all I need.”

“I’m sorry, Childe, but-”

“No no. I’m not asking. You don’t have to give me one.”

You look into the lifeless blues of his eyes as he continues. “I’ll take that chance whenever I get the opportunity. You don’t have to worry your pretty head over it.”

Somehow his decision to take matters into his own hands unnerves you more than his blatant signs of attraction. It didn’t help that he wordlessly left the store after that.

-

Today is your last shift before you leave for home. Oddly enough, Childe didn’t swing by the store ever since he left the other day, and he isn’t here right now as well. It makes you uneasy. Something’s wrong. You can feel it in your gut.

He hadn’t even contacted you or sent any cat videos or memes, and being the coward that you are, you left things as they were. Hope that you won’t see him again keeps you going and stops you from poking at the obvious issue lest it bites you back.

But… you feel a little guilty. Even now as you stare at the floor on the other side of the cash register, you can’t help but recall how Childe tried his best to keep conversation flowing during dinner despite getting a very rude lack of input from your side. He’s been trying, and you’re the one not giving him the time of day.

Nonetheless, relationships aren’t built on pity. You hope he finds someone else, someone more suited for him. That’s the only wish you have for him even if the moral ramifications are eating you up on the inside.

Still, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the question of what he meant by taking the chance when the opportunity presents itself. Does he somehow know about your flight? Well, if he did, he wouldn’t have disappeared. Best to end things on a good note rather than a bad one and stay in contact. But what if he doesn’t care anymore?

Though that outcome is the welcomed one, it still stings to think that. Someone losing interest in you isn’t exactly something that makes you feel good. Regardless, it’s welcome in this situation. You were never in favour of his attention being on you and you never will be.

At 7: 08 pm, the bell at the door chimes in goodbye as you step out. The evening rush hour greets you, and you go with the flow of the people rushing home after a long day or work. Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow. At least they have something to look forward to.

The building of your current residence comes into view and relief washes all over you. Just a bit more and you can get into bed. There’s still a few more hours till you leave, and all your luggage is packed. All you need to do is take a nap.

You practically skip to the entrance, the cool air of the lobby’s air conditioning hitting your face. No one is inside and you hurriedly make way to the elevator. 

The nap you took felt like an entire night of rest. With a stretch, you jump out of bed to gather the rest of your things. It’s when you’re locking the door to your room when you realise just how quiet it is. Your apprehension is understandable, if not relatable. You’ve never exited your room after coming back home for the day, so you have no idea what the building is like after a certain hour.

Dragging your suitcase with one hand, hand carry with the other, you haul them both and yourself - the backpack on your shoulders being an honourable mention - inside the elevator. The air is uncharacteristically cool and dry, something elevator music fails to get your mind off of. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it in favour of dragging your luggage outside the elevator and into the lobby. Who would be calling this late? Probably your mother. The video call would cut when you step out and the Wifi disconnects, so it doesn’t matter. Key left at the receptionist’s desk, you mentally thank yourself for checking out online in the evening but pray that the key is still here by morning.

Hesitation wins and you end up leaving it next to the pen holder. You were told to drop it off at the desk. It’s not your fault it’s unattended.

The bus stop is a five minute walk away, so with a deep breath, you step out of the lobby and to the outside, allowing the night’s cool breeze to caress your face as your luggage stays grasped in either hand. Your eyes land on the empty road, praying that you don’t get creeped out by the lack of people.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a step forward, then another, and another, till you’re a few metres away from the building’s entrance. The breeze is still blowing and the air is cool so you won’t be hot during your wait at the sto-

“[Name]?”

The breeze stops blowing.

“Where are you going at this hour? And… why… is your luggage with you?”

Your breathing is the next to stop, though only momentarily.

Almost on instinct, you let go of everything in your hands and reach for the phone in your pocket. You don’t even bother looking at the source of the voice, eyes glued to ‘Childe’ glowing on your screen as the contact of the missed call. Heart hammering in your chest, you slowly turn to look at him.

Regret and fear seep into your bones at the same time. He’s wearing something similar to what he usually did in the beginning, garnet dress shirt and dark grey dress pants. The gloves on his hands cover his palms but leave the majority of the back of his hands exposed, phone held in the leather grip.

What your eyes focus on first, however, is the earring. It catches the light from the lobby behind him like a beacon, but you’re quick to look away and into the blue irises of his empty gaze.

There’s no time for you to question why you didn’t hear him before he spoke up.

“Are you leaving?” He takes a step forward, phone slipping inside his pocket, and you take a step back. The reaction is all he needs from you to raise his hands in surrender, only coming closer when the wary look on your face softens into something more observant.

“Are you going back home?” Childe stands only one step away when he asks that and tilts his head waiting for an answer. He receives one in the form of a nod, and questions further. “When’s your flight?”

“Half past 3 am,” is your reply.

“So you have a little less than four hours,” he points out. “I actually came here to talk to you. I uh… I missed you and couldn’t help it. If I knew you were leaving, I would have come sooner.”

You’re still watching him attentively, the clothing he’s wearing sufficient to ring alarm bells in your head. “So you wanted to talk?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” you bite your lip, “I guess I’m not running late. The bus will be here in fifteen minutes anyway, so I have time to spare.”

“Perfect!” He grabs both of your luggages and drags them in the opposite direction of your intended destination: the bus stop. It takes a stern question from you for him to stop and look at you with that empty gaze again. “I’m just taking you to my car. I’ll drop you off. There’s no need to bother yourself with the bus.”

Any demurrance from your side is promptly shut down and smoothed over with reassurances that he’d get you to the airport safe and sound. As your packed belongings sit next to the car, Childe eases the backpack off your shoulder and leaves it on top of them.

It’s when he looks at you that the anxiety skyrockets, eating away your consciousness. Alone with Childe, a highly ranked member of the mafia, at near midnight with all your belongings and an assurance to be dropped off the airport safe and sound is an obvious problem.

You should have listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut back in the store.

“So,” he drawls, standing a foot away from you with his hands in his pockets, “I know I was brash and that I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable and also should have apologised to you later, but I won’t.”

That causes you to perk up, anxiety dying down a little. “You… won’t?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I won’t. It’s because I’m not going back on my words. I know you don’t view me as a potential partner, let alone friend, but that isn’t going to stop me.”

You don’t like where this is going.

Childe continues, eyes still boring into yours. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me. I’ve told and showed you countless times that I’m not going to do anything. It’s pointless to waste your energy. All I want is to exclusively be yours and call you mine. Why would I ever do anything to you if that’s what I wish for?”

The sir suddenly feels too suffocating, like not enough oxygen is filling your lungs. There’s a subtle darkness in your vision, one you deal with by walking to and leaning on the parked car, not that it helps. Not with the deeper breaths you’ve started taking. It doesn’t take any more indications for Childe to rush to your side, an unwelcome hand gently stroking your back.

The breeze flows again, caressing your face and blowing through your hair, but you’re still sweating.

You don’t know what happens next, just that you’re inside the car, the AC turned on, a light shining over your head, and a hand still running up and down your back while you take mouthfuls of breaths. They’re quicker now, you note, and a hand - your own hand - rises to cover your mouth as your sight and self-awareness is restored.

The confusion and vulnerability hits you like a truck and the tears simply fall harder.

Each and every time the hand moves over your back, you feel like more of your skin was peeled off, goosebumps still littering over your arms. It takes several minutes for you to somewhat calm down and become cognizant of your emotions and actions. It doesn’t come as a surprise when the first thing you decide to do in that state is cry harder.

What are you crying for? You don’t know. It’s hard enough as it is to just continue breathing. Processing your emotions is for later.

A hand, a foreign one, gently lifts your face, allowing the dashboard to come into view, and turns it to the source. Childe’s blurry image greets you as your chest heaves, warm thumbs swiping away the tears rapidly running down your cheeks. You don’t have time to dwell on where his gloves disappeared to, focusing on the feeling of his warm thumbs feeling cool over your tear stricken face.

Several minutes pass again, and you sit with your face in your hands while Childe puts your luggage inside the car trunk. Reddened, swollen eyes meet his blue ones in the silence of the car, your sniffling being the only sound. Whatever you just experienced was horrible. Had Childe not been… no. He is part of the cause. Him helping you through it is the least he could have done.

The driver’s seat is quickly occupied once again, and Childe breaks the silence, concern present all over his face. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod, too uncertain in your ability to speak. His question of whether or not you want some water is met with a shake of your head, and Childe settles with pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think it would upset you that much.”

Voice slightly raspy, you reply after clearing your throat. “It’s alright. I… I didn’t see it coming as well.”

He slumps into his seat, head turned to look at you. Childe’s eyes glaze over your body, looking for potential signs of fear. It seems to him that you’re dazed, confused. It’s advantageous for him, if not relieving. Seeing you afraid or in pain doesn’t elicit any positive feelings.

After receiving your permission, Childe puts on his seatbelt - all the while making sure you fasten yours as well - and reverses the car, intending to drive you to the airport. You’re a bit late compared to what you originally planned, but you suppose he can get you there on time.

The car is eerily quiet with the lack of music. There’s no gentle humming from Childe, only the sound of either of you breathing. Unfortunately for you, the silence fails to last.

“So when are you coming back?” Childe’s voice is calm, flat. He’s completely casual in his question despite your concern that he wouldn’t take kindly to being lied to about such a thing.

“It’s one way,” you lie. Not being held accountable for your verbal deceit helps you gain some confidence. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be back for class obviously.”

The car is silent again for a while and it fills you with hope for a quiet ride, one where you would get off, thank Childe profusely, and head home never to see him again. Alas hope is crushed, and you freeze in your seat, muscles tensing when Childe speaks again.

“How much more are you going to lie?”

Childe continues driving, acting unaffected with his demeanour and tone, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that him gripping the steering wheel in a bone crushing grip is anything but him being casual. 

No. He’s certainly upset, and you’re afraid you’re too much at his mercy.

“I gave you another chance and you ruined it.” Childe’s fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, voice even as he speaks. “Why don’t we try again? When’re you coming back?”

You bite your tongue when you feel the initial signs of panic bubbling up your throat. It takes a bit of force to make yourself speak, even if it’s in a more fearful way. “Seven weeks. I’ll be home for seven weeks.”

“You’re not going to block me on your socials when you get there, are you?”

With a shake of your head, you continue looking out the window. “No.” 

He hums, satisfied at your cooperation. “Good.” The car takes a turn, the empty roads seemingly omnipresent. “I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to know the truth… er, more like hear it directly from you.”

A few minutes of silence pass, but it doesn’t last because you can’t stay quiet for longer. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“I am?” The smile in his voice is evident.

“Yes, you are.” You turn to look at him, nervously gulping at his grin. “Stop messing around.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Childe!”

Your panic fails to affect him in any way. With the fuzziness growing in your mind, there’s not much you can do except grab onto his sleeve. That causes him to look at you, even if just for a moment, but that’s all you get for a reaction. As a last resort, you reach for your phone in your pocket but freeze when you don’t feel the device.

You don’t need to say anything for Childe to provide the answer to your question. “Your phone isn’t there. It’s with me, I’m afraid.”

“Childe,” you say, voice low and pleading, “please stop screwing around.”

He sounds slightly offended when he replies. “You think I’m screwing around?”

“Yes!” Your exclamation doesn’t seem to affect him, so you opt for a more direct approach. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I came with you because I trusted you.” The words are spat out, but Childe only seems amused.

“Trusted me?” He chuckles. “Sweetheart, if you trusted me, you would’ve told me about your flight from the start instead of lying about putting in a one week notice. You’re scared of me, and despite the fact that it stings like salt on an open wound, I suppose there’s some merit to that as well.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?”

You bite the inside of your cheek now. There’s no way you can tell what Childe means by what he said. Judging from your previous conversations as well, your fear of him is a sour spot, but maybe you could exploit that to your favour.

“I’m afraid of you, because of your unpredictability and that is exactly what you are demonstrating right now.” You grab onto his sleeve again, albeit more desperately this time. “You gave me more reasons to fear you than you did to like you.”

The car slows, as if synchronised with Childe’s thought process. “Is that… really what you think of me?”

“Yes,” you reply in an even voice. “I was already a little scared from what I heard from people and then you started doing all this stuff-”

“Stuff like what?”

“Stuff like this!”

He sighs, moving the steering wheel to stop the car at the side of the road. “I just told you that I can’t ever hurt you, and you’re still calling me scary?”

Your eyes focus on his expression, specially searching for any signs of him lying - hypocritical on your part - but fail to find anything other than sincerity. The grip on his sleeve loosens, your hand ultimately returning to your lap, when he turns to face you. It’s intimidating to look into his dead eyes but it still makes you wonder how such a beautiful colour can be so lifeless.

Childe’s lips move and despite your feelings you find yourself absolutely memorised by the plush pink as his voice leaves his mouth.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

His declaration forces you to focus on his words, any attraction be damned.

“Lying to me and saying that you haven’t decided on leaving for home did get on my nerves a little,” he says, “but I forgive you. You’re cute, so I can’t stay mad at you for long.”

You let his words sink in. He says that he forgives you for the lie, but what now?

“Alright,” you drawl, voice nervous, “now can we please go to the airport?”

Childe leans in, a smile on his face. “How about instead of the airport, we go home?”

The word ‘home’ catches your attention and dread settles in. If he’s implying what you think he is, then you don’t think you’ll be able to catch your flight, let alone get to the airport.

“Childe,” you croon, “I think we have some misunderstandings. Before either of us does something impulsive and hurtful, let’s just talk it over.”

He just looks amused. “Oh? Talk over what? You’re the one pushing me away.”

You try again to de-escalate. “I only told you that I don’t want a relationship.”

“Liar.” Childe’s hand reaches for the edge of your seat, the skin below his collarbones and a little bit of his chest visible as he leans in closer. “We’ve already had this discussion before. Since you’re cute and obviously not in very good mental shape at the moment, I’ll give you a little bit of advice. Let me do my thing. I’m not going to hurt you, just… change your scenery a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him upon saying the word ‘scenery’. Though consternation eats you up on the inside, you trust that Childe wouldn’t do anything to you, at least not physically. What he is currently planning to do is a different matter.

Patience, you remind yourself. That might just be the only thing you have left.

“Now that that’s settled,” he says, going back to the steering wheel, “why don’t I take you home? I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s more comfortable and spacious than where you were living.”

In the most calm and even voice you could muster, you try pleading with him again. “Childe, please. Don’t do something that would make me hate you.”

He doesn’t even look at you when he answers. The lack of smile and his eyes fixed on the road as he continues driving does not help ease your increasing dread. “It might be a small bump, but the end destination is what matters in this case, not the journey.”

You glance to the door handle in an act of desperation but bite your lip when all hope is lost at the sight of the lock. Month old words hit you like a truck, patience being some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them. After all this time, would it be wise to believe you’ll be alright?

[brehaaorgana]

ADHD money/budgeting system I'm currently using for my benefit is going well (I've been using it for like half a year now?), and I wanna recommend it.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT. 10/10 do recommend. Uhhh rambling about it and my generic disclaimers + gushing extensively under the cut but TL;DR I think it's great for ADHD ppl, I've used it for 6+ months now and I find it super SUPER helpful. also weirdly fun.

DISCLAIMERS:

Budgeting helps you understand/know your money, it can't make money appear where there is none.

Everyone should learn to budget even if you don't have much money (especially then)

This is NOT a magic trick solution. Just like everything else, it is an assistive tool. This is one of those adult things we can't simply opt out of without negative consequences, though.

My advice is based on something I am currently able to do. That is, I can spend an amount of money on this specific thing that works well for me. If you have no extra money to spend then previously I was tracking things in a notebook. So you can still do this.

I believe Dave Ramsey is a fundie fraud/hack and no one should listen to him about money.

DID YOU KNOW THEY CANCELLED MINT???

Okay? OKAY.

Ahem.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT.

It is called YNAB for short. The first 34 days are your free trial, and that is my referral link. If anyone uses it and then signs up for a subscription, we both get a month free. Also you can share a subscription with up to six people (account owner can see everything but individuals can pick and choose what they share amongst each other) so like...idk your whole polycule can be on one account. Or your kids. Whatever.

If you are a student, it's free for a year. If you aren't, a subscription is $99 for a year (paid all at once) or $14.99 monthly, which is equivalent to paying Amazon prime. Go cancel Prime and get this instead tbh.

They got a whole article just on ynab and ADHD. They also have like...a big variety of ways to access their info? They have a book, podcast episodes, YouTube videos, blog posts, q&A's, free live workshops you can join (you can request live captioning), emails they can send (if you want) a wiki, and so on. They got workshops on all kinds of topics!!

So whatever ends up working for your brain. It also has a matching app.

If you lost Mint this year they have a gajillion things for moving from Mint.

Also they have a "got five minutes?" Page which has a slider so you can decide how much attention/time you have before going on lol:

They only have 4 rules of the budget, they're simple and practical, and it doesn't get judgey or like...mean about your spending.

1. Give every dollar a job 2. Embrace your true expenses 3. Roll with the punches 4. Age your money.

THEN THEY BREAK THESE DOWN INTO SMALL STEPS FOR YOU! They even have a printable! Also these rules are great because there's built in expectations that things WILL HAPPEN and it's NOT all or nothing with a fear of total collapse into failure. Reality and The Plan don't always align, especially if you have ADHD. So it's directing our energy towards the true expenses and not clinging to The Plan!! over reality.

You can automate a lot of shit (you can sync with your bank accounts just like mint, but also automate tagging the categories of regular expenses/transactions). And if for whatever reason you accidentally do something that makes the budget look weird or wrong:

A) you can usually fix it somehow OR b) they have like, a button you can press that gives you a clean slate and archives the previous version of the budget for you.

So if you forget for a few weeks or months, or accidentally input something wildly wrong, or just don't want to look at a really terrible month anymore and feel like you need a fresh start you can usually either fix it or start fresh which is really nice.

The app also (for whatever reason) scratches my itch to have things like...have incentives or little game-like goals in a way mint never did? I don't know why. Filling up the bars or putting money into the categories to cover my expenses is satisfying lmao. You can also make a big wish expense category for all the fun shit you want, and fund it whenever you can and then you can see the little bar go up and that's fun.

Anyways I've been using it for like 6+ months now and I think it's really helped me when I use it.

[longreads]

Rescuing the Rescuer: Saving Myself from a Lifetime of Hurt

In this moving essay, Cathleen Calkins examines the cumulative emotional toll on ski patrollers who witness and respond to traumatic injury every day on the job.

"The alchemy between rescuer and rescued is strange: like a romantic relationship, only faster moving. The euphoria of starting simply at hello, I’m here to help before moving on and culminating at what feels like deep attachment. We say my patient, as in they transported my patient to the hospital, or my patient opted to return to the slopes, or my patient is in the bar. I felt possessive of those I spent so little time with because our paths crossed at a moment they needed my help. Perhaps I cared too much.

I used to wonder how the people I’d assisted were doing. Like the college student who snagged first chair to get on the snow early so he could make it home before his afternoon class. He didn’t look like a skier. His cheap snow pants were too big, his cotton hoodie soaked. I remember how crumpled he looked when I skied up to him and how his inaudible moans grew louder when we secured him to the backboard. Had his injury prevented him from leading the life he wanted?"

Read Rescuing the Rescuer at Longreads.

[shiraishi-mai]

[7:40pm]

“Where is he?” You asked softly. Your eyes roamed across the volleyball members occupying the hallway before looking back at the boy beside you. 

Osamu looked at you with a grim look and stuck his thumb behind him. “Sitting in the locker room. There shouldn’t be anybody else in there right now.” 

You nodded. “Thanks ‘Samu.” 

He dipped his chin in response before continuing to pack his duffle bag. There was a somber tone amongst the team as they began to slowly make their way out of the building. 

You headed to the locker room, slightly dragging your feet along the way. Once you were faced with the pale grey door, you found yourself hesitating to open it and laid your hand flat on its surface. Sighing, you turned around and leaned your back against it. What were you doing here? 

“Sooo what’s going on there?” Your friend had asked a few weeks ago while grinning like a Cheshire cat. You both had just watched a yellow-haired boy cheerfully wave at you through the classroom window before heading to his own class. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you opted to stare straight ahead at the board.

“Oh c’mon. You and Miya have been acting all buddy-buddy recently.”

“Yep because we’re buddies.” You began to doodle on the corner of your notebook. 

Your friend snorted.  “When did that happen?”

You couldn’t help but smile softly at the memory of meeting Atsumu for the first time. Your friend was right - Atsumu and you used to have an awful relationship. 

You had started Inarizaki a bit later than everyone else. Your family had decided to move into the area after your father had a job transfer, and so you found yourself the awkward new student a few months after the school year had begun. Volleyball tryouts had already passed, but the coach had seen you play at your previous middle school and graciously accepted you after giving you a chance to play a practice game with the rest of the team. The girls were amazing and you found yourself right at home with them - something you were thankful for since you weren’t looking forward to making friends from scratch. 

You knew the boy’s volleyball team at Inarizaki was excellent, therefore when the captain needed someone to accompany her to run an errand to the other gym, you eagerly volunteered. You hadn’t had a chance to see them in action and were dying to get a peek at their practice to see just how good they were. 

An orange court identical to the one the girls practised in greeted your eyes as you both stepped in the building and your captain turned to you upon entering the gym. 

“Just wait here while I go talk to their coach!”

You nodded and curiously began to watch the practice. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking and balls hitting the floor put you at ease and a starstruck expression crossed your face as you saw a tall, darker-skinned boy spike.

“Oi.”

Another boy with a leaner figure and slanted eyes spiked with a weird twist to his form and your eyes widened. That was unusual. Impressive.

“Oi.” 

I KNOW someone is NOT trying to get my attention by saying ‘Oi’. Who is this uncouth- 

You turned to see a boy with yellow hair and an unamused expression on his face. 

“Yes?” you said sweetly.

“Cheerleading tryouts aren’t in this gym,” he said shortly. 

The fuck? 

Okay, technically you and your captain were wearing ponytail holders with ribbons in Inarizaki colours and you both hadn’t changed out of your regular PE tracksuit, so you could maybe see where he might have gotten that. 

“Excuse me?”

“This is a volleyball court.” He spoke in a tone that implied that you were a bit slow.  

No shit Sherlock. “I’m not looking for tryouts.” 

He groaned in exasperation and put his hands on his hips. “Well if you’re looking to watch our practice, we can’t have an audience today. We’re going over some serious stuff and don’t need any distractions.” He turned and left you with your hand half raised and mouth open before you could respond.

“These pigs just think they can crash practice when they don’t even care about volleyball…” 

Pigs.

Pigs?? 

Who the fuck does he think he is?? This little- 

Okay, you know what, breathe y/n. Don’t do anything rash. Remember what your therapist said.

You felt a faint tap on your foot and looked down to see a stray volleyball had rolled over to you. 

I really shouldn’t. You thought, picking up the ball and ran a finger along the curves and dips. 

This is a bad idea. You tossed the ball in the air. 

Well, when life gives you lemons. You hopped and felt a satisfying smack as you hit the ball towards the back wall. 

Now, the intention was to hit the area beside the offensive boy and give him a little scare, however you forgot that your hits tended to curve a bit (a problem you were trying to fix).

So you watched, horrified, as the ball flew straight towards the boy.

It was almost like the trajectory itself was in slow motion but sped up as it impacted and there was a dull thud sound as it hit his back.

“OW!”

He turned around, eyes flashing and mouth curled angrily. 

“Oh god I’m so sorry.” 

Is what you meant to say. But you had your pride and also had kind of already committed to going down this path. 

“L/n y/n,” you said, matching his glare. “[insert favourite vball position here]. Nice to meet you.” 

The noises from the gym all halted and the air was still as the other members of the team stared at the scene. 

The boy with the slanted yellow eyes and middle parted hair snorted which prompted the boy beside him to begin laughing as well. You were stunned to see the same face except framed with grey hair. 

There’s another one??

There was a sudden ‘eep’ noise and you felt someone rush over beside you. “Oh my goodness I’m so sorry.”

Your captain grabbed the back of your head and wrenched your head down into a bow. “We’re so sorry. RIGHT?”

You yelped when you paused and she sharply tugged on one ear.

“Yes, my apologies.” You muttered. 

The girl dragged you out of the gym berating you but sighed and ran a hand down her face as you recounted what had happened.

“Honestly I guess I can’t blame you too much. That was Miya Atsumu.”

“Oooh he’s one of the Miya twins.” They were first-years like you but already quite famous around the school.

She nodded. “Osamu is fairly nice but Atsumu is known for being…difficult.” 

You snorted. “Seems like it.”

“He’s a damn good setter though,” she continued.

“Still,” you frowned. “This sport is about teamwork. You can’t be too difficult or else the team can’t function.” 

“Agreed,” she said before narrowing her eyes and looking at you from the side. “Though I’ll make you eat your words if that temper of yours makes an appearance on our team.” 

You shuddered before walking quickly ahead of her back to the girls’ gym. 

—-------------------------------------------------------

After that, your interactions with Atsumu Miya didn’t get much better. 

It didn’t help that he was in the class next door to yours. Everytime you met in the halls (which happened a good amount of times during the week) snide remarks were exchanged. 

“Oh look, it's the school’s kpop star,” you said drily when you exited the classroom for lunch and found yourself, yet again, in front of him. “Raaah raah.” 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t you expect to hear crowd noises everywhere you go? You’re always strutting around like you’re the shit and eating up the attention people give you. Well until they start messing with your serves,” you smirked. “It’s too bad you aren’t good enough to not be so easily distracted.” 

He looked at his twin beside him. “I told you, squealing pigs.” 

“At least I don’t go around grunting like a giant ape.”

The lanky boy whose name you learned was Suna tried to hide a snicker behind his hand.

“Well I almost didn't give someone a CONCUSSION.”

“Oh please,” you turned away from him and waved your hand in a shooing motion. “Your head is too thick to get a concussion.” 

“Tch more like your spike is too weak for it.”

“What did you say??” You whipped back around only for a teammate of yours to magically materialise and drag you away by the collar. News of your ostensible assault to Atsumu had spread amongst both teams and your incredible dislike for him was well-known by now. 

“I fucking dare you to show up to practice Miya and see for yourself it that’s true!”

“Hai hai that’s enough,” your teammate said tiredly and you crossed your arms, fuming, as you saw him sniggering before turning the corner. 

The students in your hallway quickly became accustomed to your face-offs, opting to give you two a wide berth whenever they occurred. Suna often stopped by to film and told you he was going to make a compilation of the best 10 fights at the end of the year. 

“He’s not that bad you know,” Osamu said, sipping on his drink. Your eyes rolled up to him from where you were lying down on the bench beside him. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“He’s…passionate. With a one-track mind. I think it’s good you’re so direct to him. It’s the only way that really gets through to his stupid brain anyway.”

You laughed. “How are you guys so different?” Osamu was in your class and at first you had been wary of him - he did share Atsumu’s genes after all - but were relieved to find out he was actually super chill. 

“I didn’t wanna end up like him.” He said simply and you chuckled again before frowning. 

“It’s a shame…he plays beautifully though,” you said under your breath.

You didn’t notice Osamu side-eye you quickly with an eyebrow raised.

Inarizaki had one of their games recently and you were honestly a bit curious to see how the evil Miya played and also so you could see if he made any mistake for your own satisfaction. However, you had to admit that Atsumu was talented. He was reckless and got ahead of himself but his sets were perfect. Most of the time at least. They were the type that you knew spikers were itching to hit and you wondered what it’d be like to play with someone like him.

Definitely a shame. 

—-------------------------------------------------

Of all things, the school’s annual fall event was the reason your relationship with Atsumu improved. 

Your friend’s class was putting on a production and she asked you to help paint some of the set pieces as a few people had canceled on her last minute. 

“y/nnnnn pleasseee” your friend whined. 

“I spend 90% of my life at school and the one free Saturday I have YOU WANT ME TO BE AT SCHOOL?” She grinned, enthusiastically nodding.

“You got some nerve-”

“It’s not my fault my classmates are lazy…I always get stuck doing busy work” she interrupted, shooting you her best puppy eyes. You bit your tongue as you wanted to retort that it was her fault for being the class’s student rep. 

You sighed. “Okay fine.” 

She squealed and clapped her hands. “Perfect, meet me at 1pm.”

A pit had formed in your stomach that you couldn’t explain as you opened the door to the auditorium. When your friend spotted you, she brightened and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you behind the stage. Large set pieces that outlined what you think was a castle and some trees were set-up but you barely noticed as your eyes found an offensive figure. 

Miya Atsumu turned his head to the side, flashing you his signature smile and opened his mouth. 

“Nope,” you said and turned on your heel and headed back towards the front. Your friend quickly ran and stood in front of you.

“What is Miya doing here??” 

“Apparently he and Osamu crashed into the principal while they were racing to the cafeteria and knocked him down so he’s forcing him to help out as punishment.

“Why is he the only one in there? Where’s Osamu??”

“Technically Atsumu is the one who knocked the teacher over. Osamu managed to skirt away in time so he wasn’t seen.” 

You groaned. “I can’t do this. Honestly, we might end up ruining your scenery fighting or something.”

She glared at you. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

You winced as she stared at you for a moment with a pensive expression on her face.

“What?”

“Maybe you should hang out with him. Both of you play volleyball…just talk about that.” 

“I don’t want to talk to him period.”

She snorted and said, “Just be open-minded. And don’t kill each other. Or destroy my set pieces.” She quickly added at the end.

“No promises.” 

You walked back and went straight to the paint rollers, blatantly ignoring the heavy gaze trained on you. Picking it up, you went to the end of the half-painted castle furthest away from him and began to roll. 

Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “That side is done.” 

You didn’t say anything and scooted a little to where it was unpainted.

“I don’t bite.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you did.” 

“Shouldn’t I be more afraid of you?”

You glared at him and instead began to talk to one of the other people painting beside you. There were only three others and they had been fairly quiet at the hostile energy radiating between you two. 

However, Atsumu remained eerily quiet as he worked on his set piece and as you focused on yours, you found that time passed fairly quickly. You were finishing up and went to get another paint bucket when you blanched upon seeing Atsumu’s work. 

“Oh my god please don’t tell me this is all you’ve accomplished.” 

“This is harder than it looks!” He said defensively and you bit back a laugh. When he had whipped around to retort, he revealed that he had paint smudged on one of his cheeks as well as a bit of splatter on his shirt. 

“It’s straight lines Miya. I know you act like an ape but I didn’t expect you to have a monkey brain too.” 

He opened his mouth with an indignant face but stopped when you stood beside him. 

“The lines go this way - see then it looks like bricks.” You brushed lightly on the cardboard. 

Atsumu looked at you, eyes wandering around your facial features. He’d never seen you up this close before and without a scrunched up expression on it. Your elbows were almost touching and he frowned. 

“She’s pretty ya know.” Osamu grinned as if he knew a secret. It pissed Atsumu to see that expression on his face.

“So what? She’s mean and bitchy.”

“Oh c’mon. It’s partly your fault she acts that way too. She can be sweet sometimes.” 

“L/n. Sweet. Right.” 

“What, you don’t want my help?” You felt your hackles raise at his frown. 

He shook his head. Your eyes were lit with a bright fire - not necessarily one that was hostile but rather with a lively quality in them - and the stage lights cast shadows across the planes of your face in a way that made you look both glowing and vibrant. 

Pretty. 

His eyes widened slightly and he shook his head a bit to get out of his daze. He must be crazy. The fumes from the paint had probably made him a bit high and out of his mind. Right?

—---------------------------------------------------

After that, your relationship with Atsumu seemed to improve. Your face-offs slowly became more light-hearted and you both began to chat about volleyball, schoolwork, how Osamu and Suna bully him and on and on. He was surprisingly funny and by that, he was easy to tease and rile up. The two of you still fought but it was more so bickering over whether horror movies were better than action movies rather than actual malice. 

He’d come to watch a few of your practices and even began going to games if he’d finish his first. You’d find him, arms leaning against the railings of the second-floor seats and a shit-eating grin gracing his lips. You groaned internally when you saw the flash of blonde in the corner of your eye but refused to take your eyes off the service. 

There was a yell from the stands. “In!”

You froze momentarily watching the ball hit just outside the line.

“Out!” The referee called. 

“ATSUMU MIYA.” 

You whipped your head to the offensive boy and mouthed an aggressive “GET OUT.” 

All you got in response were mini finger hearts.

Mentally facepalming, you turned your attention back to the game and grumbled about him being lucky that this was just a practice match. You’d definitely get back at him on the walk home later.

Yes, indeed, Atsumu had begun to walk you home. He’d wave Osamu off and claim that he needed to walk off his post-practice high and it was getting darker quickly now anyway and he couldn’t make fun of you if you died on the way home. Most of the time, you guys continued the bickering from the day and joked about stupid things, and sometimes, when practice ran late deep into the night, the two of you would just walk side-by-side in comfortable silence. 

And honestly, being friends with Atsumu Miya was nice. 

—--------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, your heart betrayed you and you could pinpoint the moment it did. 

You were watching the boys play a match and Osamu had gone in for a spike only to change it into a set straight to Aran. Atsumu looked stunned momentarily before he let out a boisterous laugh. The sound was just like a child’s - a refreshing sound full of joy and pure amusement - and you could practically feel his adrenaline amp up another notch. 

Aran scored the point (ofc) and the team gave each other excited high fives before the buzzer rang, signalling the other team calling a time out. You watched him chatter away upon reaching the sidelines and Aran gave him a slap on the back in annoyance while Suna shook his head. You chuckled at their antics but your smile slowly faded as your eyes found the blonde setter again. 

The slight chill from the stadium’s A/C, 

the feel of your hand gripping the end of a yellow cone,

the excited chatter of your classmates beside you, 

the itch at the end of your fingertips to hold that blue and yellow sphere.

You felt your heart beat painfully when you heard Atsumu’s laugh again. 

If you learned anything about Atsumu, it was that he was passionate and wore emotions on his sleeve. Life was simple for him - he said what he was thinking and unashamedly acted the way he felt. When he was elated, his joy was infectious and his face would shine excitedly about some new cool thing he pulled off. He was blunt, but honest and you felt a sense of trust in him because of it. 

And he had his kind moments. 

Once, he found you sitting on the lowest bleacher in an empty gym after a match when your team had lost a crucial game to qualify for the quarterfinals. 

Your eyes blankly stared at the ground as you absentmindedly spun a volleyball in your hands. 

“You guys put up a good fight.”

You snorted in response. “I could’ve done more.” 

“The team worked hard - you worked hard all year. Just get better and kick ass in the fall.” 

“Yeah I tried my best and all it got me was there. I made so many mistakes.” You shook your head. “I should have hustled after more balls…I missed the timing on a few blocks…geez,” you inhaled sharply and leaned back on your hands. “I feel so incompetent. What have I been doing this entire time?” 

“Hey I didn’t stay after all those sessions just for you to complain they didn’t help.” 

You wrinkled your forehead. “Sorry, that’s fair.” Looking up, you gazed into his warm brown eyes, you smiled softly. “Thank you for helping me.” 

He stared at you hard for a moment before turning his head away. “This just means I’m forcing you to train harder next year.” 

You groaned. “For fucks sake.” 

“But really,” he continued. “You aren’t incompetent. You’re like - you’re good.” He said a bit lamely before hesitantly continuing. “You’re good at volleyball, get good grades and get along with people easily. You’re better than most of these scrubs by far.” 

“And I’m pretty.” You swept your hair over your shoulder jokingly. 

There was a pause. “And you’re pretty.” 

“Not to gas you up or anything,” he quickly added. 

You giggled, ignoring the sudden increased palpitation in your chest before responding, “Aw since when is Atsumu Miya a sweetie.”

“Shut up, I take it back.” He stood up and plucked the ball from your hands. “C’mon you need to practice serving.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “My shoulder hurts.”

“Yeah and your serves sucked so let’s go.” 

You were pulled back into the game when the crowd surrounding you stood up, roaring in delight after Suna whipped a point in. Atsumu punched the air, roaring with them and you felt your chest squeeze painfully.

Oh god. 

—--------------------------------------------------

Just as you came to terms with how you felt, things soured with the blonde Miya. 

Atsumu was passionate and wore his heart on his sleeve. This meant that when he was upset, he was upset. Essentially he turned into a stubborn child. 

You were hesitating to open the door because you hadn’t talked to Atsumu in weeks. You were just as stubborn as him and maintained it wasn’t your fault. Both your heads would turn the other way and there was no more bickering - just an icy silence. 

And it all started with a stupid bet.

Atsumu had been teasing you for weeks about how someone seemed to daydream more during class recently and it seemed to result in him somehow getting a higher grade than you on a quiz. In response, you shot back that you’d beat him at midterms.

“Okay bet,” he said easily. 

“And if I win,” he crossed his arms and tilted his head with a smirk. “You have to wear the Inarizaki cheerleader uniform AND yell ‘GO ATSUMU’ during our game.”

You looked at him unamused. “I thought you didn’t like people distracting you.”

“During my serves. Do NOT do it during my serve,” his face darkened. 

“Okay okay moody. But if I win,” an evil look crossed your face. “You have to do the same thing.”

Suna’s eyes widened. “I would literally pay money to see that.” 

Atsumu’s eyebrows raised. “You want me to yell ‘GO ATSUMU’?”

You blinked at him in response. “This will be so easy.”

“The pom poms would look so small,” mumbled Suna quietly as Atsumu yelped indignantly.

Your eyelids pressed shut.

I’m so done with the boy’s volleyball team at this school.” 

However, what you didn’t know was that Atsumu, though lacking in other areas, was fairly good at math when he tried. This, and the lack of sleep you claimed to have, resulted in him scoring a lousy 2 points above you. 

Hence you stood in a uniform, pom–poms in hand and a bow in your hair at the game that would qualify Inarizaki for the fall tournament. 

“Suna, please tell me you got this on camera.”

The tall boy waved his phone up. “Oh yeah, with many different angles of her scrunched up angry face. You know-,” He leaned down, hands placed in his pockets, to your eye level. “You’d be prettier if you smiled.” 

Your eyes narrowed into slits. “Suna Rintaro you did not just say that. It’s so offensive and plays into traditional gender roles and on behalf of all girls I should-”

“Ap-buh-uh,” his slanted eyes turned upward into crescent moons as he straightened with an easy smile. “Just a joke, princess. You genuinely look good.” 

You huffed in annoyance. “I look good in anything.”

You waited for a comment from the annoying setter beside Suna but just found him blinking at you. 

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the moment,” he said with an oh so innocent smile. 

“Creep.”

“Hey I’m not the one who stinks at math.” He threw his hands up in defence. 

“TWO POINTS MIYA,” you moved to smack the back of his head and he dodged easily before speed walking down the hall.

“Oh what’s that I think we have to go warm-up,” he exclaimed loudly before smirking. “Don’t forget to cheer me on.”

“UGH.” You sighed in defeat.

“So when are you confessing your undying love for him?”

You squawked at Suna in protest. “I do not - I- it’s Atsumu - he -”

“I got it, breathe y/n,” he ruffled your hair and gave you a peace sign in farewell before walking off after Atsumu.

“Cheer for your guy loudly Ms. Cheerleader.” 

You huffed and you felt a hand slip into yours. Your head spun before you relaxed, recognising one of the regular cheerleaders behind you. She had been kind enough to lend you her spare uniform and teach you some of the cheers. 

“Y/n we have to get to our seats!” 

“Yay,” you said. Your voice fell flat despite trying to sound enthusiastic. 

She laughed and began to tug you into the gym. “Aw c’mon, you look gorgeous. Your boyfriend must be pumped to have you cheer for him!”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Hmm sure,” she said and made a knowing face at you. 

“He isn’t!” 

“Oh look, they're warming up. Let’s go to our seats before they start.”

And so you let yourself chant along with the girls beside you, throwing up your pom poms a little late but trying your best nonetheless. Atsumu was on fire as usual, syncing perfectly with Suna and Aran. Osamu made a few service errors, but you knew that he had been a bit ill the past few days. Some of your friends from the volleyball team even joined you and all of you screamed your support from the stands.

Finally the match came to an end and naturally Inarizaki won. You were so proud of the team and as they went around to high-five the other team your friend turned to you. 

“y/n, we’re going to the mall to hang out after. Wanna join us?” 

You nodded absent-mindedly, your gaze fixed upon the team below. “I think I can join you later. I want to say hi to the boys before I go.” 

She giggled. “Of course, gotta see Atsumu before you go.”

“Hey! I want to see Osamu and Suna too!” 

She simply laughed. “You’re practically bouncing in your seat. Hurry up and go say bye, we can wait for you outside.”

You nodded in response and took off towards the locker room. Normally, the guys would have a brief talk before changing and Atsumu would be standing outside, a smile on his face and with a slight wave of his hand. You’d thought about changing first to spare yourself from his teasing but honestly, you secretly thought you looked kinda cute in the uniform and wanted him to see you in it again. 

A sudden hand clamped around your wrist before you could make it down the corridor and you turned your head in confusion, locking eyes with a stranger. You recognised him as one of the players on the opposing team.

“What the hell are you doing?” You nearly squawked. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you in the stands today and was wondering why our side didn’t have any supporters as gorgeous as you,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks for the compliment but please don’t touch me.” 

“I saw you with the team before the game too. You’re a popular girl~” 

“So what?” Trying to calm your rising panic and you attempted to rip your arm away from him but his grip was too strong. 

“What’s wrong? You seem to be already whoring yourself out to them so what’s the problem with one more.”

“Fuck you,” you spit and thrashed against him. You reached your other hand up to slap his face but found yourself pinned against the lockers.

Your eyes widened as he leaned his face toward you with a fake smile plastered on your face. The feeling of being so helpless made your blood run cold and you froze, unable to understand what was actually going on. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself to headbutt him when you heard a loud crack. Your eyes snapped open and you saw the boy holding his cheek and a fuming Atsumu was standing in front of him. You felt a pair of gentle arms slowly pull you away from the two and you looked up to see Suna had wrapped his arms lightly around you, his gaze flatly looking at the other boy.

“Are you okay?” he murmured. 

You nodded faintly but you were focused on Atsumu’s face. His face - you had never seen any expression even close to that. Fury was radiating from him as he roughly shoved the boy against the locker and raised his arm again.

You wrenched yourself free from Suna’s grip and ran to stand by Atsumu.

“That’s enough Atsumu!” You gripped the arm that he had balled into a fist. “I’m okay.”

“Miya look at me!” you said when he didn’t reply. “Please!”

He finally dragged his eyes away from the boy and you shivered as he focused his glare on you.

“It’s fine,” you repeated softly and he thankfully put his arm down.

“He isn’t worth you getting kicked off the team,” you continued firmly and Atsumu finally let go of the boy whose face had gone white as Osamu showed up. The trio stood angrily in front of him and you realised in that moment they were quite intimidatingly big. 

“Don’t show your face in front of us again or I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Atsumu spit.

“C’mon Atsumu,” Osamu pushed his twin away and roughly pushed him in the direction opposite of the player. 

“Don’t touch me,” he said growling. 

“Atsumu,” you began cautiously as you trailed after him outside the exit doors. “Atsumu is your hand okay?” 

“Just what the fuck were you doing?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Why were you just standing there? Why the hell were you not fighting back?”

“I was fighting back!” you said, eyes flashing in anger. “I just froze up for a second! Heaven forbid I was fucking scared.” 

He shook his head as if your words were bouncing off of him. “How stupid are you? You’re always doing this - not taking care of yourself and acting all airheaded and zoning out. It’s a goddamn chore to watch out for you!”

“Nobody asked you to watch out for me,” your voice increased to match his. 

“Maybe if you stopped daydreaming like an idiot you’d start playing like an actual decent player instead of just sleeping on the court. Hell maybe your team would be able to stop being shit enough to fucking qualify for nationals for once.” 

“Dude that’s enough,” Osamu looked at him incredulously. 

You took a step back. Atsumu knew better than anyone else how hard on yourself you are, especially about volleyball. You had been overstressed recently as your grades were suffering because you kept staying so late to keep practising and you felt like you were drowning trying to balance everything. 

Your arms came up to wrap themselves around you protectively. 

The anger drained out of his face almost comically fast. “Y/n,” he said, a hint of fear on his face. 

You started to back away and shrugged nonchalantly. 

“No no, you know what you’re right,” you hated how your voice came out shakily. “It’s my fault that someone harassed ME, it’s MY fault our team keeps losing, and it’s MY damn fault that I’m not strong enough to have it together all the time.” 

“Y/n that’s not what I mea-.”

“No, that's exactly what you were saying,” you said, cutting him off. “Fuck you Atsumu.” Tears pricked at your eyes and you blinked them away, refusing to let him see you cry. 

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” 

The group of you all shifted to see your friends cautiously looking at you. “We heard yelling and you never came out so we were worried.”

“Yep,” you said, attempting to sound cheerful. “Everything’s good. Let’s go, I’m finished here.” 

“y/n,” Atsumu said with a hint of desperation in his voice. 

“I’ll see you guys around.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of the boys and simply sped off towards your friends. 

“That was a low blow,” Osamu shook his head.

Atsumu stared after your retreating figure before groaning and banged his fist against the locker. “I’m so fucked.” 

—------------------------------

And that’s the last time you really talked to Atsumu. He made multiple attempts to talk to you in school but always found you surrounded by your friends. They looked at him reproachfully and you were grateful to have such great people supporting you. He tried to confront you a couple of times before and after practice but your captain always made sure to kick him out of the gym and after you would practically sprint home before the boys’ had finished their practice. 

“He’s pretty hostile nowadays,” Osamu sighed from beside you. He’d found you hiding on the rooftop during lunch one day.

“What a surprise.”

“He’s beating himself up for it for sure though.” 

“Miya, are you defending your brother for once,” you tried to joke. 

“I dunno,” he leaned against his arms behind him. “You know how he gets. He’s an ass for sure but he was so worried that day. I’m not sure I blame him entirely though. It’d be infuriating to see anyone in that position. Let alone the girl he -” he paused. “Let alone our friend.” 

There was a silence long enough you felt Osamu glancing at you repeatedly. 

You really weren’t upset with Atsumu. At first, you were admittedly a bit scared of him - you’d never seen that side of him before. BUt you realised that it was probable that the anger was never directed at you. He defended you without a second thought and likely risked a suspension. Atsumu had supported you these past few months and had been a good, albeit kind of annoying, friend. He had his moments - enough so that you had fallen for him. Was it fair that you cut him out of your life?

“I miss him.” you admitted and tucked your knees against your chest. “I don’t really know how to talk to him though. I just keep hearing his words and I’m scared, like what if he loses his temper and says something hurtful again.” 

Osamu nodded. “I can’t promise ‘Tsumu won’t get mad again or say something hurtful and you definitely shouldn’t have to deal with it or make excuses for him. But he cares for you a lot and he doesn’t know how to be concerned since he’s emotionally stupid.” 

“Also,” he finally added. “Ma beat him with a spoon when she found out what happened so the likelihood of him doing it again seems very low.”

You giggled. “Aw Mama Miya putting the fear of god in her boys.”

“Mama Miya is very scary.” Osamu made a face. “She’s probably the only person Atsumu will listen to.” 

Your giggles rang out across the rooftop and Osamu huffed in amusement. As the sounds faded, your eyebrows drew together. You just needed time. You’d get over his words - they were empty after all - but until you could just see him for the boy you liked again, it’d be better to take a break from seeing him. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

A few months passed and Atsumu largely left you alone after a while. You could still feel his eyes on you if he passed by your classroom and you gave quick nods in his direction when you waved at Osamu and Suna. 

And then suddenly, here you found yourself after a game, knowing that he was probably in a shitty mood and asking yourself if you were willing to have him lash out at you again. The men’s volleyball team had gone to nationals and lost at the quarterfinals. You had given him a quick good luck after you stopped by to check on Osamu and Suna before the game but had screamed your lungs out cheering him on during the matches. You were shocked and your heart dropped when they lost after fighting so hard to break the tie. 

You knew he was taking it hard and would be blaming himself for everything.

How is he? You’d texted Osamu.

Not good. We’re leaving him alone.

Yikes is he being hard on you guys?

Nah tbh he’s p down and not saying much. 

The corners of your lips turned downward as you stared at the text. Before you knew it, your feet had led you to the team where they had directed you here.

You took a deep breath and opened the door praying Atsumu was still in there. He was your friend, the guy you had fallen for, and a source of comfort for you when you were having a tough time. It didn’t even matter if he had harsh words - you wanted to be there for him. 

The tall blonde was sitting on the bench, his arms bracing his back, and a towel covering his face. 

“‘Tsumu.” 

No response.

“‘Tsumu.” You called again, standing in front of him. 

“Not a good time, princess.” 

You reached a shaky hand out to place on his shoulder. 

You heard him inhale and a warm hand lifted to cover yours. The other came up to place itself on your hip and his head lolled forward onto your stomach. Your unoccupied hand gently began to rub small circles on his back. 

It oddly felt relaxing in that position and you didn’t feel anxious. It reminded you of those quiet walks home where there was a muted comfort between the two of you. 

“I’m not going to tell you ‘it's just one of those days’ and anybody gets them. While it’s true, you aren’t ‘anybody’. The standard for you is high - you set it yourself after all. But you always pull through.” You gave a little laugh. “You’re a great guy. That’s why all the people in your life stick with you no matter how callous and insensitive you can get.” You rolled back the towel so you could see his face. 

“You too?” His eyes peered intensely into yours. 

“Yep. Me too.” 

“M’sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Please don’t be mad anymore.”

“I’m not,” you said, your face softening but then frowned. “But I’m not sure if I forgive you yet.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get.” He half-heartedly gave you a crooked smile. 

“Dummy,” you shook your head, “I missed you.” 

He laughed, getting up and pulling you into a hug. The two of you stood, smiling idiotically at each other. 

“Is this a bad time to mention that Suna says you have a crush on me.”

“What???” 

You tried to untangle yourself from him but he merely squeezed you tightly in response.

“Take all the time you need. Just let me know when it’s okay to ask you out properly, alright?”

You groaned and buried your face into his chest. 

“Okay? Hello y/n are you there? y/n?”

“Fine, shut up, I'll let you know.” 

Fin.

[caelivir]

HOMECOMING — model!atsumu

fem!reader, smidge of angst, fluff/comfort, bad events are referred to as punches, hits, etc., wc ~1.0k

the universe is taking its cosmic fingers made up of stars and nebulas and folding them down one by one until only one remains as a testament to its current feelings.

the bird.

or in other words: a giant fuck you.

you don’t know what you did to incur the wrath of the universe. hell, maybe you didn’t do anything at all. regardless of which fact is true, what you do know is that it is using you as its punching bag.

accidentally knocking down your bowl of cereal became the first hit in a series of ruthless blows of a terribly bad day. shattered porcelain with sharp edges scrape at the first layers of your skin, drawing a sting you’ll have to deal with later.

the second blow comes when the cleaning of the sticky sweet mess of fruit loops and milk makes you late for a lecture, and it didn’t help that you sprinted on cuts.

a third jab strikes heavily when your laptop dies not even five minutes after taking your usual seat. it takes all the willpower in your bones to hold you back from screaming a curse. you now have to allocate time into an already busy schedule to make up for this fumble.

and if you think this day could not get any worse, it does. a bird shits green on your white shoes on the way to your job, and a group of students laugh as they witness it.

your shift at the café is the worst that it’s ever been. what are the chances that you’re forced to deal with not one, not two, but three whining and screaming customers? the common denominator of them all being that they can’t seem to understand that you made their drinks exactly how it was ordered. they hurl the cruelest insults for no reason, and yet your manager finds that all the fault lies with you.

by the time you get home to your apartment, you barely have the energy to stand. you collapse onto the couch, staring into nothing as your mind premiers replay after replay of your awful day.

you fumble around for your phone that’s stuffed in one of the back pockets of your pants. your fingers run straight to the top of your favorites within your contacts.

because if anything, if there was one person who could ground you back to earth and heal every part of you that’s aching, it would be him.

it would be atsumu miya.

but then that call goes to voicemail, and the tears that have been held back by your willpower that’s as strong as a dam finally crumbles, making you an inconsolable mess.

it’s not even his fault. he’s half-way across the world, swamped with photoshoots for luxury brands, interviews, and fashion events. he’s rightfully busy, but fuck, that didn’t stop it from hurting your heart nonetheless.

you’re barely able to calm your cries when the doorbell rings, followed by annoyance once again rising in your stomach. you wipe at your nose and brush away the last of your remaining tears off your face before prying your limbs off the comfortable couch.

without thinking to look into the peep hole, you swing the door open with a sniffle, dragging your puffy, red eyes to the person before you.

you freeze at the sight of a familiar mop of blond hair, boasting a wide and excited smile. stars twinkle in his eyes as he holds a bouquet composed of carnations, daisies, gardenias, and baby breaths in his hands.

“hey, pretty girl.” atsumu beams, pushing the arrangement towards you. his face falls slightly once he gets a closer glimpse of the state of your face. “wait, what’s wrong? were ya crying?”

your mouth quivers before you break once again. tears that you just ran out of start up once more. tears of relief and joy and sadness all in one.

you forget the flowers, opting for the comfort in atsumu’s firm chest. your arms circle around his waist, your head burying itself into his hoodie. you’ll apologize for the wet stains that are drenching the soft fabric of his clothes later, but right now you need this. you need him.

and atsumu, without uttering a single word, rests a loving and reassuring hand on your head as you sob into him, a way of saying that he’s got you.

you’re battling against your hiccups as you try to talk to your boyfriend. you pull away from his warm hold and weakly attempt to wipe your face.

“what are you doing here?” you sniffle.

atsumu grins softly at you, using his fingers to brush away your tears. “my last few days in london were supposed to be free days, but i missed ya too much and took the first flight back home. thought i’d surprise ya.”

“i was having the worst day ever.” you admit shakily. “and i was gonna tell you about it, and then you didnt answer my call.” your voice cracks as you say it. it’s pathetic, but it sparks yet another wave of crying.

atsumu immediately brings you into another tight hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry i missed it. my phone died on the way here.”

“never let your phone die ever again.” you mumble into his hoodie, fisting the fabric.

he laughs, a mesmerizing expression that melts your heart into goo. “i promise. anything for ya, princess.”

atsumu forces you to look at him, caressing your cheek with his free hand as he cherishes every minute detail of your face. he leans in, pressing a gentle and fleeting kiss onto your divine lips coated in salt.

atsumu puts the flower bouquet into your hands. “so, how about we go in and ya tell me all about yer shitty day, and then i’ll curse anyone and everything who had a part in making my sweet girl cry.”

you chuckle, the first laugh atsumu’s gotten out of you since his arrival, bringing the flowers gifted to you closer to your face. “yeah. i think i’d like that.”

[ssprayberrythings]

home is a person | OP81

oscar piastri x student!female reader / smau fic

fc: maude apatow 

pov: you’re a student studying abroad in australia and during this time there, you realize home isn’t always a place but rather a person. in your case you find your home with mclaren's f1 driver, oscar piastri. 

warnings: mention of alcohol (beer bong too), other than that just emotional fluff !!

i already have plans for a part two but please let me know your thoughts !!!

-

yourusername posted on their story

📍melbourne, australia 

caption: i’ll miss my child while im travelling 

yourusername posted on their instagram  

liked by friend1, yourbestfriend, yourmom, friend2 & others liked 

summer adventures 🔆 

view all comments 

friend1: youre so cute 

friend2: y/n we miss you 

╰ yourusername: i’ll be back soon. i promise 

yourmom: my sunshine child 

╰ liked by yourusername 

yourbestfriend posted on their story

📍sydney, australia 

caption: haven’t seen her in weeks and she brings a book to our lunch ☹️ 

╰ yourusername: i was only reading it until you got to the restaurant 

-

friend2 posted on their story

📍melbourne, australia 

caption: don’t be fooled, she’s actually happy to be home 

╰ yourusername: sure, whatever you say 

You loved all your friends but you had only been back in Melbourne for not even 48 hours and they were already dragging you to a BBQ party when all you wanted was to be in your apartment curled up with your cat, Timmy while reading a book. 

“I promise if within an hour you really aren’t enjoying yourself, you are more than welcome to leave. I’ll even promise to order the uber” your friend told you “Deal” you agreed. You enjoyed your parties but you also enjoyed some peace and quiet, right now you wanted the latter. 

You arrived at the party and made your way to the backyard with your friend. You had brought a pack of coolers with you, being raised never to show up empty handed to someones house. “I’m gonna go put these with the rest of the alcohol, Im sure I’ll see you around” you told the friend you had arrived with and then set off to find the alcohol table, mostly to put the coolers down but to also get yourself a drink, you needed one if you were planning on seeing this through. 

You found the booze table and put the coolers down, then scanned what other alcohol they had. You opted for making a vodka, lemonade. Once you had a red solo cup in your cup, another friend of yours passed by and asked if you wanted to come play beer pong. You just shrugged and said “sure”, you didn’t mind a good game every once and awhile. 

When the two of you got to the beer pong table, two boys stood at the one end. You had to admit they were both good looking, however the blonde one had caught your eye. “Is it us against you two or how are we doing this?” your friend asked, both boys shared a look “We can split up” the brunette boy suggested “I’ll be your partner” he added referring to your friend 

“Are you okay with that?” your friend asked turning to you “Fine by me” you said as you walked to the other end of the table where the blonde boy stood “Just don’t be mad when we beat you” you added looking at your friend chuckling slightly “Oh you're on” she laughed. 

“I’m Oscar” the blonde boy introduced himself “I’m Y/N” you offered him a smile, he seemed familiar but you couldn’t tell from where “Are you good at this?” you asked taking a sip of your drink while your friend and his friend introduced themselves to each other “Eh I’m decent” he answered your question, laughing slightly “We can win with decent” you joked making him laugh again. 

One game of beer pong later, you and Oscar had won against your friend and his friend “Yes!” you exclaimed as the last ball went in, indicating you had won “Good job” Oscar told you holding his hand up for a high five which you gladly gave to him “We make a good team” you said as a small blush appeared on his face “We do” Oscar agreed with you. 

From that point on, the two of you spent the rest of the party together getting to know each other, playing a few more games of beer pong, dancing a bit, overall having a great time together.

When the night was coming to a close and you were walking to meet your friend to go home, Oscar was right by your side “Is there any way I could get your number?” he asked scratching the back of his neck “Yeah but under one condition” you started “You have to take me on a date” he blushed but chuckled “I can definitely do that”. 

Once your numbers were exchanged and you shared a quick hug goodbye, you were in your uber with your friend “Aren’t you glad I made you come” she smirked looking at you, you just rolled your eyes. The both of you knowing she was right but there was no need to say it aloud. 

-

yourusername posted on their story

📍melbourne, australia 

caption: planned or candid? guess we’ll never know 🤭

╰ yourbestfriend: MISS Y/N WHO TOOK THIS 

╰ yourusername: i’ll tell you after the date 

╰ yourbestfriend: DATE!!! FACETIME ME WHEN YOU GET HOME, I NEED ALL THE DETAILS !!

more replies…

╰ friend1: happy to see oscar took you somewhere nice 

-

yourusername posted on their instagram 

📍australia  

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri, friend1 & others liked 

perks of being home 📸🐨🌅

tagged: oscarpiastri 

view all comments 

yourbestfriend: THIS IS HIM 

╰ yourusername: 🤦🏻‍♀️

oscarpiastri: cant tell whose cuter; the koala bear or the person who took the picture of the koala bear 

╰ yourusername: i vote the koala bear 

╰ oscarpiastri: i have to disagree ;)

╰ yourusername: guess we can agree to disagree ;) 

oscarpiastri posted on their instagram

📍melbourne, australia  

liked by landonorris, yourusername, yourbestfriend & others liked 

im definitely enjoying this time off from racing 

tagged: yourusername

view all comments 

yourusername: still never getting over how you casually said you were an f1 driver 

╰ oscarpiastri: 🤷🏼‍♂️

landonorris: now i know why you’ve been taking forever to answer my texts 

╰ oscarpiastri: i’ve had other things to do

piastrixnorris: WAIT DOES OSCAR HAVE A GF !?

f1fan_: OSCAR PIASTRI, ARE YOU A TAKEN MAN ?? 

wagupdates_: we’ll solve the mystery. its our duty 😎

-

yourusername posted on their instagram   

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri, friend1, yourmom & others liked 

limit of happiness exceeded 🧡 

tagged: oscarpiastri 

view all comments 

oscarpiastri: my happy place 

╰ yourusername: 🥰🥹😘

oscarpiastri: timmy my adopted son 

╰ yourusername: he loves you, maybe more than me 

╰ oscarpiastri: that was my goal this whole time 😏

friend1: i’m taking a nap on the freeway tonight 

╰ friend2: im joining you 

yourbestfriend: he still needs the best friend stamp of approval 

╰ yourusername: we’ll come to sydney before his break is over, i promise 

╰ liked by yourbestfriend 

oscarpiastri posted on their instagram   

liked by yourusername, landonorris, alex_albon, yourbestfriend & others liked 

my happy place is next to you 

tagged: yourusername 

view all comments 

f1fan: AWE 

user4: THEY’RE DEF DATING 

user81: SHES SO PRETTY 

piastripastry: OSCAR UR GF IS STUNNING FR 

╰ liked by oscarpiastri

wagupdates_: GUESS WE HAVE A NEW WAG ADDED TO THE LIST 

yourusername: thats so funny, my happy place is next to you, what are the chances 

╰ oscarpiastri: no way, we must be made for each other or something 😉

╰ yourusername: seems that way 😏

user20: im silently sobbing at their comments to each other

-

yourusername posted on their instagram  

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri, friend1 & others liked 

for anyone wondering: f1 drivers make the best bfs 

tagged: oscarpiastri 

view all comments 

yourbestfriend: he gets the best friend stamp of approval now 

╰ yourusername: YAY 

oscarpiastri: girls named y/n make the best gfs 

╰ yourusername: ur so cheesy, keep it going 

╰ oscarpiastri: for you, anything 

friend1: does he have any single f1 friends ??? 

╰ yourusername: let me get back to you on that 

╰ friend2: i’m wondering this too

╰ yourusername: 😅

oscarpiastri posted on their story  

caption: my adopted son timmy & his mother 👨‍👩‍👦 @yourusername 

╰ yourusername: we love you 😘

more replies: 

╰ user12: ok cuteness overload 

╰ user14: this is too cute 

╰ user2: oscar you're killing us

-

yourbestfriend posted on their story  

caption: cuties @yourusername @oscarpiastri

╰ yourusername: oh my..you’re the worst 

╰ yourbestfriend: you love me though 

oscarpiastri posted on their story 

📍 sydney, australia  

caption: boat days ⛵️ @yourusername

╰ yourusername: ❤️

-

yourusername posted on their instagram 

📍 sydney, australia  

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend, friend1 & others liked 

i’ve become one with the sea 🩵

view all comments 

yourbestfriend: today was so fun! the four of us need to hangout together more ! 

╰ liked by yourusername & oscarpiastri

friend1: youre the cutest 

╰ yourusername: 🥰

oscarpiastri: i wonder who took these photos of you 🤔

╰ yourusername: some australian man who tagged along with us🤷🏻‍♀️

╰ oscarpiastri: hmm..hes a good photographer

╰ yourusername: hes alright..;) 

-

Things between you and Oscar had been going so smoothly. Obviously he had to get back to racing pretty soon which was why you were making the most with the time you had, not that either of you minded spending pretty much everyday together. 

Right now you were sitting on your balcony, enjoying the morning breeze, while Oscar was still sleeping. He had spent the night because yesterday you had gone to Sydney for a boat day with your best friend and her boyfriend and by the time you got back, it was pretty late.

You didn’t want Oscar driving back to his place so you offered for him to stay which he gladly accepted and you were able to fall asleep cuddled up together. 

Your cat was curled up in your lap while you read a book. You were so engaged with your book, you didn’t notice Oscar walking out of your room and coming into the kitchen, seeing you on the balcony. He didn’t want to startle you so he walked over to the door, tapping on the side to get your attention before speaking 

“Morning” he smiled at you “Morning, did you sleep well?” you asked as you put your bookmark in your book and shut it. He nodded while a yawn escaped his lips “Do you want a coffee? or I can make us breakfast” you suggested as you picked your cat up and got up walking to the door. 

Oscar moved to the side to let you in and shut the door behind you “Why don’t we go out for breakfast” he offered “This way you can just rest” he explained as he walked over to where you stood by your kitchen counter, where you had put your book down, gently putting a hand on your lower back. “Sure, I like that idea” you told him as you smiled looking up at him “I just need a few minutes to get ready and we can go, I actually know the perfect place” “Sounds good, also I was wondering if you had a spare toothbrush” he asked laughing slightly.

You laughed with him and nodded your head “Follow me” you instructed and brought Oscar to your bathroom to show him where you kept spare toiletries incase anyone ever needed anything while they were here. 

“Thanks” he told you once he had a toothbrush in his hand “Anytime, when you’re done just make yourself at home and I’ll be ready soon” you told him.

As you turned to walk away to get ready, Oscar grabbed your wrist causing you to stay in place, he leant down giving you a quick peck on the lips “Sorry Ive just been wanting to do that since I woke up” he told you blushing. 

You had a small blush on your own cheeks, he truly was the cutest person you knew “No need to apologize, you're welcome to do that whenever you want” you told him causing him to blush even more but then he broke into a boyish grin and stepped closer, putting his hands on your cheeks and kissing you properly.

It didn’t matter to either of you if you both had morning breath, all you cared about was each other and getting to do this as much as you could before Oscar left to get back into the world of F1. 

yourusername posted on their story  

caption: my favourite breakfast spot + my favourite boy 🧡 

╰ oscarpiastri: ❤️

-

yourusername posted on their instagram        

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri, friend2, landonorris & others liked 

got my film developed..finally 🫡

tagged: yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri, friend1, friend2 

view all comments 

friend1: omg these are so cute

╰ liked by yourusername 

yourbestfriend: wait that pic of me is actually so cute, can you send me it 🥹

╰ yourusername: already did ❤️

oscarpiastri: im so lucky 🥰😍

╰ yourusername: brb blushing 

╰ landonorris: who knew oscar had riz

╰ oscarpiastri: who let you here 

╰ landonorris: y/n accepted my follow request..finally 

╰ yourusername: sorry, takes me forever to do things 😆

-

yourusername posted on their story 

caption: my favourite view 😏 @oscarpiastri

╰ oscarpiastri: youre my favourite everything 😏

╰ yourusername: real smooth..😆 

oscarpiastri posted on their story  

caption: i’ll miss you more than australia’s sunsets @yourusername 

╰ yourusername: dont remind me that youre leaving soon 

╰ yourusername: i need these next couple days not to fly by..

╰ oscarpiastri: i know :( 

-

It was the day you and Oscar were most dreading, the day he had to leave Melbourne to get back to work. You had told him you would drive him to the airport, wanting to spend every minute you could with him before he left. 

You made casual conversation on the drive over, not wanting to think about the fact you’d be doing long distance, not sure when you’d get to see each other next. You were going into your final year of your degree and would be in classes which meant you probably wouldn’t be able to attend the races. 

Unfortunately you arrived at the airport faster than you hoped you would. You parked in the parking lot and got out of the vehicle once you turned the car off. You went to help Oscar with his bags “I got it” he told you, putting his backup on and then grabbing his suitcase handle with his one hand “Just hold my hand” he told you smiling and reaching to intertwine your fingers. 

The two of you walked hand in hand towards the entrance. Because Oscar had some fame to his name, you were able to stay with him until he had to start boarding and then security would safely escort you back to your car, per request of Oscar himself. Luckily due to the time of day, there weren’t any fans that he could see but he didn’t want to risk it. 

You sat in the waiting area for his flight to be called, you had your head resting on his shoulder “I’m gonna miss you so much” you told him softly “I know, I’m gonna miss you too” he expressed the same mutual feeling. 

“I’ll be cheering you on from home for every race though” you added lifting your head up and looking at him, he smiled at your comment “Knowing youre watching is all the incentive I need to make sure I do good. I gotta make my girl proud” he said lifting your intertwined hands and giving them a kiss.

He could be such a hopeless romantic at times and it always made your stomach do cartwheels, you didn’t know how you got so lucky with Oscar. 

Some time passed before his flight was called causing the two of you stand, forced to look at each other not wanting to say goodbye but knowing you had to.

“Go be a brilliant F1 driver” you told him, not wanting to say anything more or else you might cry “Come here” he said opening his arms, knowing you were doing your best not to cry. 

It could be alot dating someone in Oscar’s field constantly having to say goodbye and not knowing when you’d be able to see each other next. You walked into his arms wrapping your arms around his waist as he wrapped his around you.

A moment passed before you pulled away, if he didn’t leave now, he’d miss his flight. “Text me when you land, I don’t care about the time difference” you told him “Of course” he told you as he picked up his backpack and you made your way to the doors to the plane. 

After he gave you one final kiss on the lips, he turned and made his way through the doors heading for the plane. He wanted to turn around and see you one more time but he knew he’d never leave if he did so he kept walking straight. 

You got walked back to your car, being sure to thank the security before you got in and put your keys in the engine. You waited till you were back home and wearing one of his hoodies to let a few tears fall.

It was crazy to you that someone you had only met a couple weeks prior had become someone so important to you and now you were crying over them leaving. 

You didn’t know why you were reacting this way, you had been able to pack up and move across the world for school saying goodbye to family and friends. You had travelled, always making friends then saying goodbye. Goodbyes were something you had plenty of experience with, yet saying goodbye to Oscar was another level of difficult.

The more you thought about it, you realized he had become something you didn’t realize you were looking for, he had become your home and for the first time in your whole life, you were missing your home.

It was in this moment that you knew you didn't want to go another day without Oscar by your side. You knew you had to finish school but once you had your diploma, you'd be flying to Oscar and never leaving his side from there.

-

ahh i've been working on this one for awhile now so i hope you like it !! once again feel free to reblog or comment ur thoughts !! other than those notes, enjoy and talk soon ❤️