#in any case i’ll have to find out tomorrow! or friday. probably friday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beks-crooked-glasses · 2 years ago

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Claire.

The Scene opens with an extreme closeup of a woman, Claire, in the bath. She is lying with her knees pulled up and arms above her head. Her eyes are open, staring blankly straight up. The water is steaming copiously.

An alarm sounds, making Claire blink and sit up. She steps out of the bath and you realize that the bathroom is a mess. Clothes scattered on the floor, the trash is overflowing etc. Claire dries off and wraps herself in a mens red and black robe. In the background you see two towel racks, only one is being used. Claire goes to the bedroom and turns off the alarm, revealing that it is 7:15 in the morning.

Like the bathroom, the bedroom is dirty. The bed is unmade, more clothes are on the ground, there is a stack of dirty plates and cups on one of the bedside tables. The other bedside table is perfectly clean, a watch stand its only ornamentation. Clarie opens the closet to get dressed, revealing that most of the hangers are empty. The laundry hamper on the ground is overflowing with womens business casual. Claire simply frowns and turns away, finding clothes amongst the dirty ones. She goes to the kitchen for breakfast.

The kitchen is probably the worst mess yet. There are dirty dishes and trash on every surface. If Claire notices or cares it is not shown. Claire prepares a single piece of toast and a mug of black coffee. It is unclear how long the coffee has been in the pot. It is not steaming, and when it is poured there is a line of grime around the inside of the glass. Claire eats her breakfast and leaves the house to the sound of one final alarm, signifying that it is 7:30. She unlocks her car and gets inside.

Unlike everything else the car is spotless. It looks almost brand new, the only signifier that it is used frequently is Claire's purse in the seat. When it is cranked the radio automatically turns on to a sports broadcast. Claire's hands shake as she looks at the radio for a moment before beginning to drive.

Claire makes it to work at a nice law firm. The security guard at the door is a faceless automaton that scans her badge and allows her in. For the first time Claire shows emotion, putting a smile on her face and brightly greeting coworkers. She moves through the office to her desk, greeting those that she passes. Once seated she begins to set up her computer for the day. Next to the computer is a picture frame, flipped to be lying on its face. Claire's boss steps into her office, a file held in his hands.

“I need these sorted by tomorrow, they’re for the case next week.”

“Of course sir! I’ll start on those now.”

“Thank you Claire. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m doing much better, thank you for asking.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. If you need any more time off please let me know, I’ll make it work.”

“Thank you sir, that is very kind of you.”

The boss leaves and the smile falls from Claire's face as if it was never there. She takes the files she was given and begins to work, scanning them and working at her computer. Over her shoulder you can see the arms of the clock moving rapidly. At nearly one another coworker pops her head into the office.

“Claire! Do you want to come to lunch with us? We’re going to that sushi place that you like.”

Claire offers a slight smile, “oh you go right ahead! I brought my lunch today, and I need to hurry and get this case finished up.”

The coworker's face falls but she nods, “ok dear. But I want you to come out with us on friday alright?”

Claire just laughs, “I will, I will. Go, enjoy your lunch, I’ve got mine.” she pats a pink lunchbox sitting next to her computer.

An x-ray image of the lunchbox is shown. Inside there is a moldy sandwich and what might have been carrots. There is a note on top, folded in half with only a drawn on smiley face visible. It has clearly been there for a long time.

Claire returns to her work without another word. The day passes, light fading in the window behind her. When Claire finally shuts off the computer it is fully dark. She leaves the office, only a few people remaining and cleaning automatons beginning to work. She nods goodby to the security automaton as she leaves. Claire returns home and stands in the middle of her living room. The living room is the only clean room of the house. There are multiple bouquets of dead flowers scattered around. It can be assumed that something tragic has happened recently.

Claire makes a microwave dinner, adding the box of its trash on top of the pile surrounding the trash can. She eats the meal in silence, sitting at a dining table. The dining table is set for two people. One side of it is perfectly clean, recently dusted, with an ashtray and a drink coaster waiting. The other side is piled with more trash, and is the side that Claire chooses to sit at. Once Claire is finished with her meal she sits in the living room. It is clear that she has money, with nice furnishings and decor. Time passes, the occasional car driving by adding the only motion and light into the room from its headlights. Eventually Claire gets up, seeing a sparkle under the couch.

She bends down to pick it up, finding a single cuff link. It is silver, the head shaped like a leaf. She holds it in her hand, whole body curling around it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world.

The Scene changes. Revealing a house that is much brighter and lovelier in the day. The flowers around the living room are alive and vibrant, but Claire is not. She is a mess on the couch, sobbing harshly. An older couple sit on either side of her, gently rubbing her back.

“Come on sweetheart, let's go get you something to eat. That will help you right out.” the woman says.

“I’m not hungry,” Claire gasps out between sobs.

“You wont know that until you try. Come on, up you get, that's a good girl.”

The woman pulls Claire to her feet, brushing her hair back from her face. Claire sniffles and scrubs the tears off her cheeks. The old man rises as well, making eye contact with the other woman and nodding shallowly.

“Can we get pancakes?” Claire asks.

“Of course we can,” the other woman says.

She leads them to the front door, sighing at the shoes there. Claires are easy to differentiate from the men's loafers and hiking boots. Claire pulls her shoes on and they step outside and get into the woman's car. She looks up when she realizes that the man isn’t joining them with confusion.

“Daddy?”

“I’m going to cut the grass while you get some food, don’t worry I’ll be here when you get back.”

Claire nods, accepting a kiss on the cheek before they leave. The father watches them go, before he sighs heavily and returns to the house. At the restaurant that Claire and her mother have gone to they are seated by an automaton host. The mother urges Claire to eat, which she does reluctantly. Any attempt at conversations peters out quickly. They leave again, returning to the house. Clarie looks confused at the sight of another automaton cutting the grass. They enter the house and as she takes her shoes off she realizes that the rack is empty.

As is the coat hooks above it. She steps into the living room and realizes that things have been changed there too. Sports magazines have been taken away, a football on the settee is no longer there, a man's leather gloves are no longer on the table. Claire numbly wanders through the house, showing it empty of any sign that there had been someone else there. Finally she reaches the bedroom to see her father emptying out the closet.

“What have you done,” she breathes.

He turns to her, an old suit hung over one arm, “you can’t keep living like this sweetheart. Adam is gone. It’s terrible and it hurts, but you can’t can’t keep your home exactly the same. You have to learn to live without him.”

“Get out!” Clarie snaps.

“Sweetie-”

“GET OUT!”

Claire's parents glance at each other in concern but they leave. Claire stumbled to the bathroom, finding the red and black robe still hanging. She falls to her knees, robe pressed to her face and sobs. Time passes, until she is asleep on the ground. Slowly she wakes, rising from the floor. Claire hags the robe back up and wanders into the kitchen. There is a door beside the fridge that she opens. Stairs lead downwards into a basement. Claire cautiously goes down, revealing that all of her husband's things had been boxed and put away. Sitting at the end of the banister is a single cuff link, with a silver head shaped like a feather.

The Scene returns to Claire in the night, holding the matching cufflink. Slowly she straightens up, a hard glare on her face. She marches into the bedroom and to her bedside table and pulls it open. In the back, around the other items, is a business card and a USB. Claire stares at them for a long time before she pulls them out and sets them on the table. The card reads CUSTOM AUTOMATONS, ALL YOU NEED IS THE DESIRE. She falls asleep staring at them.

The next morning Claire wakes up to her alarm. She looks around for a moment before seeming to make up her mind. Quickly she calls her boss telling him that she will be out for the morning but should return after lunch. She gets dressed in another set of dirty clothes and leaves the house with the card and USB. Claire pulls into a large red brick building, the doors being manned by faceless automatons. She steps inside quickly, face set in a stern frown. The young woman at the front desk gives her a smile.

“Hello! Do you have a meeting with someone?”

“My name is Claire Spraggins. My husband passed away recently… I am interested in having a companion made.”

The girl's face creased with confusion for a moment before she seemed to shrug it off, “of course ma’am, I’m so sorry to hear that. Let me call our mechanic, and see if he has any open times.”

“No need, I’m right here!” a man calls, pushing the doors open to enter.

He gives Claire a happy smile, “Claire it’s so good to see you again! Come come, I’ll bring you to my office. Abigail please clear my morning meetings.”

He guides Claire through the building by a hand on her elbow. Claire seems uncomfortable but when she tries to pull away he just moves with her to stay close. Throughout the building are many automatons, some faceless others with faces. They all turn to watch as Claire and the man walk by. They enter the office and Claire takes a seat. The man takes one as well, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You told me that you were not interested in a companion last we spoke.”

Claire's face creased with anger, “you came up to me at my husband's funeral trying to sell something. Did you expect me to be happy?”

“I expected a little respect at least. Not to be called a money grubbing pig in front of all those people. And after all the work I put into helping you.”

“You have done nothing for me,” Claire hissed, “not yet.”

“Keep telling yourself that darling. But sure, I can make a little Adam bot, I’ve been waiting for this. You lasted longer than I thought without someone there giving you purpose.”

“Believe it or not I am a fully capable adult James. I can function just fine without a man hovering over my shoulder.”

“Huh,” James huffed, leaning back in his seat, “you really believe that dont you.”

“Obviously.”

He waved at the door, “go do whatever it is you do during the day. Leave the USB with me and I’ll have you a shiny new husband ready by the end of the day. New car smell and all.”

Claire nodded and left, leaving the USB on the desk. James watched her go, hands steepled under her chin. A few clicks on his computer brought up security images of Claire. Her arrival, her leaving, from the living room of her home, her at the funeral, even a still photo of her entering work. James huffed out a laugh and grabbed his desk phone and placed a call.

“Boss, I think we need to have a talk… about Claire Spraggins.”

Claire returned to work, passing the day regularly. Unlike the day before she did not stay late, or seem very focussed. She was one of the first ones to leave, telling her coworkers that she would meet them for dinner the next night. She rushed home, smiling widely at the sight of a light on in the window. She entered the house, tears welling at the sound of a sports broadcast being played. All of Adams' things that had been packed away by her parents were returned to their rightful places. She entered the kitchen, which had been cleaned fully, to see a man standing at the stove cooking.

“Hi honey,” she gasped, tears sliding down her face.

The man turned, a brilliant smile lighting up his face, “Claire!”

The two embraced. Claire laughed, cupping the automaton of her husband's face. He looked exactly as Adam had, down to the silly cowlick that made his widows peak. Solid white pupils were the only way to tell that it wasn’t a regular human man. Claire joined Adam for dinner, sitting in their respective spots as they ate and spoke about their days. Evening came and they went to bed, showing that the bedroom and bathroom had been cleaned as well.

There was a single moment where the Adam bot seemed to glitch, when Claire habitually picked up his bathrobe to cover herself with. But she handed it to him with a guilty smile and he returned to normal.

Days passed, a significant difference to the way they had before. Clarie was filled with life, laughing and joking both at home and at work. Her co-workers and parents commented on it but she just told them she was finally picking herself up again. At no point did she tell them about the Adam bot. He waited at home for her every night, food made and ready by the time she got home from work. It seemed like the perfect life had been returned.

Every now and then Claire caught Adam staring at her oddly. But it was only for a split second, and after that he was back to smiling and joking the way she loved. She started to notice odd things though. The automaton at work had to scan her badge multiple times, the hosts and cashiers at different restaurants seemed to stare at her with their blank faces, cameras seemed to follow her in the streets. Claire brushed it off as her being paranoid, finally coming back into the real world after being distracted for so long. Adam agreed with her.

It was close to the Christmas holidays and Adam was decorating by adding lights to the corners of their ceilings when he fell from a wobbly ladder. Claire ran into the livingroom calling his name. He picked himself up with a frown, looking at the limply hanging wrist. Blue blood dripped from the torn skin, exposing wires.

“Honey I think we should go get this looked at.”

Claire stared at the blue blood with distress for a long while before she nodded, “yes, let's go see James. He can fix this, he can fix anything.”

They loaded up into the car and left. Claire's hands shook on the steering wheel. Once they returned to the red brick building Claire hurried Adam inside. There was no one at the desk this time, but Adam was able to scan his eye by the door and grant them entrance. As they stepped through the door his simulated face melted away, defaulting back to the blank faced Automatons. Claire flinched at the sight and sped to James’ office. The other Automatons watched them go.

“James, there was an accident! I need you to-” Claire stopped, the door pushed open, the two men in the office whirled to face her, “I… Adam?”

James and Adam Spraggins stared at her. The real Adam, with black pupils and days worth of stubble. The Automaton halted behind her, uttering a mechanical sound of surprise. It grabbed her elbows to steady itself, false blood cold against her arm.

“Oh Claire,” James sighed.

She backed up a step, running into the automaton and shaking her head, “I- I don’t understand. What’s going on here?”

“James disable the copy,” Adam said flatly.

“Sure thing boss,”

James pressed a button on his computer and the automaton behind her fell to the ground. Claire stuttered and tried to back up, but she was blocked. Adam came around his seat and caught her chin in his hands. He peered into her eyes and tsked once.

“Your work really outdid itself this time. Go ahead and decommission her. You were right, she needs to be reprogrammed.”

“Adam, I don’t understand. You’re alive? Have you been here this whole time?”

“Obviously. I wanted to see what you would do. James’ skills are legendary for a reason, you don’t even realize yet do you?”

Adam jerked his head and James pressed another button on his desk. Claire tried to turn and see what he did but nothing happened. No Automatons advanced, the false Adam on the floor didn’t twitch, nothing. She whirled around to demand answers, but all that came out was a mechanical whirr. Claire froze in place. Slowly she looked down to her shaking hands. Hands that moments ago had perfectly resembled a humans, now replaced with blank white ceramic.

“I-”

“Send her home when you’re done, I’ll be waiting.”

Adam walked out without looking back. Claire tried to follow him but her muscles were locked against her will. She tried to speak but nothing came out. James just sighed and came around her desk.

“Come on Claire, don’t you get it by now? I made you to be smart than this.”

All of those comments. Any time James said he worked on her. He was being literal this whole time. James pressed an unseen button on the back of his neck and she fell limp on the floor. Her head pressed against the carpet at an angle that would have hurt a human, but she felt nothing.

“Claire Spraggins died six years ago. You… you are just a copy. My best one ever don’t get me wrong, so advanced that you didn’t even realize you were fake. Not even her parents noticed! I really outdid myself didn’t I?”

James picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Claire dangled there limply, wishing she had the ability to cry. To sob, to pull at her own hair, to scream until her throat ached. But nothing happened. She was nothing but gears and wires encased in ceramics. A lie. This whole time she had been living a lie. AI given life unknowing of what it was. James flopped her on a steel table and started strapping her limbs down. Claire wanted to beg him to leave him alone. To let her despair until her coding was so glitched she wasn’t aware anymore.

He moved back into focus holding up a USB. It was an older model, bulky and bright pink. He flipped it open and jammed it into a slot under her ear without any care.

“Don’t you worry darling, we’ll have you up and running in no time. Just what the boss ordered. Go to sleep now, once you wake up this will have been nothing but a nightmare.

~~~

Claire woke up, the sound of her alarm making her blink. She frowned, hearing the faint sound of singing from the kitchen. She got up. Looking around her bedroom, nothing was wrong. Everything was set up how it should be. She got up, pulling her husband's robe on to cover herself and stepped into the bathroom. Claire winced when she stepped on something sharp and looked down. One of Adams cufflinks, this one silver and shaped like a feather. She picked it up and put it on the counter, looking for its twin but it was nowhere to be seen.

“Honey?” Adam called from the kitchen.

“Coming love!” she called back.

Claire left the bathroom, a smear of blue left by her heel.

#Claire #science fiction #horror #looming dread #quiet movies

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shemarmooresfedora · 2 years ago

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Bad Excuses & Blue Slushies

Summary: After playing hard to get for so long, you finally agreed to go on a date with Steve. When he stands you up, he comes back with the strangest excuse as to why.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Content/Warning: no season 4 spoilers (season 3 spoilers though), fluff with some angst, swearing

Word Count: 2.9k

You hastily tied your red bandana around your neck as you ran into Starcourt Mall.

Your scuffed converse skidded along the tiled floor as you sprinted into Scoops Ahoy, headed to punch yourself in before you were late.

“I already punched you in,” Steve spoke from the register, handing change back to a customer.

“Thanks,” you heaved, hunched over and trying to catch your breath, “My. bike. broke. Had. to. run. over. 2. miles. in. this. stupid. fucking. uniform.”

Steve grinned, “Well, at least you still look as gorgeous as ever.”

“Ha-ha, very funny” you deadpanned, “I do a nice thing and agreed to cover Robin’s shift and this is how I’m repaid.”

“Wow, I’m hurt,” Steve clutched his chest in fake agony, “I pay you a compliment and I’m met with cold sarcasm.”

“Sorry if I find it very hard to believe that the Steve Harrington thinks a sweaty girl in an unflattering sailor’s costume is the epitome of beauty,” you retaliated.

“All the boxes on my dream girl checklist are ticked off,” Steve grinned, “What are you doing Friday night?”

“And how is that your business?” you inquired.

“Because I’m trying to ask you out,” Steve replied.

You let out an audible laugh, stifling it as a customer came into the shop.

“Ahoy there! What can I get for you today, matey?” you greeted them.

“Can I have a large chocolate overboard cone please?” the older woman ordered.

“Right away, ma’am,” you began scooping the ice cream.

“Come on,” Steve continued, “Give me one good reason you won’t go out with me on Friday.”

“Steve,” you chastised, “I’m with a customer.”

“She doesn’t mind. Do you?” Steve looked to the woman.

“Oh no, I’m loving this. Why won’t you go out with this hunk, sweetie?” she asked you.

“Steve, tell this woman where you were just last night?”

“On a date with Stacy Johnson,” he sighed.

“And two days before that?” you inquired.

“With Stephanie Williams but-”

You interrupted him, “I rest my case. $4.82, ma’am,” you handed her her ice cream.

“She makes a compelling case,” the lady handed you the money, “Have a good day, dears.”

“I can list more reasons if that’s not enough for you,” you grinned at Steve who scowled in return.

After cleaning up after the store had closed, Steve locked the doors as you waited for him.

“Until next shift, Harrington,” you waved goodbye to him as you entered the parking lot.

“Wait, your bike is broken,” he spoke.

“I’m aware,” you replied.

“Well, how are you getting home?” he continued.

“Walking, I guess. My parents aren’t home,” you shrugged.

“Let me give you a ride,” he offered.

“You live on the opposite end of town and we just worked a double, I’m sure you want to get home. I’ll be okay, really,” you assured him.

“I don’t feel comfortable letting you walk miles home in the dark. Just please get in,” he returned, opening the passenger side of his car

“Fine,” you sighed, getting in, “Thank you.”

Steve started the car and pulled out of the parking lot just before you added, “But if you try any funny business, I will snap your neck.”

Steve chuckled, “I’d expect nothing less.”

You rested your head against the window, completely exhausted after your shift. You hated to admit it but Steve was right. If you walked home alone in the dark, you probably would have fallen asleep in a ditch about half a mile in.

“Are you ready for the math test tomorrow?” Steve broke the relative silence of the car.

“I didn’t even know you knew I was in your class,” you snorted.

“Believe it or not, Y/N, I notice you,” Steve spoke.

You hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t believe it. Steve was popular, you were decidedly not. There’s simply no good reason he should have any interest in you whatsoever.

“To answer your question, no. I’m completely unprepared but I’m ready to wing it and hope for the best,” you responded.

“That's my strategy with everything in life,” Steve smiled.

He flicked on his blinker as he turned down your road.

“One chance, Y/N,” Steve spoke, “You go out with me Friday night and if it goes bad, I won’t ever bother you again. Deal?

“Why are you so hellbent on me going out with you? Have you seriously run out of all other options?”

“Is it really that hard to believe that I genuinely want to go out with you?” Steve asked, pulling into your driveway.

“Yes, very much so actually,” you spoke softly.

Steve put the car in park and turned to look at you, “I find you witty, intelligent, gorgeous, and overall remarkable. Yes, I do go on a lot of dates but that is because I’m trying to find the right girl for me. No one else makes me laugh like you do, Y/N. No one else could make me so excited to work an eight hour shift scooping ice cream in an overcrowded mall. Frankly, all the past girls don’t even hold a candle to you, Y/N. They’re boring and you’re so incredibly the opposite.”

You relented “Friday night?”

Steve smiled widely, “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

You opened the car door and slipped out of the seat, “I’m looking forward to being nowhere near how high your expectations of me are.”

Steve wholeheartedly laughed, “I’m looking forward to making you admit you actually had fun for once…and on a date with ‘the Steve Harrington’,” he quoted you.

“I’d. rather. die.” you grinned, “Good night, Steve.”

“Night, Y/N,” he waved and watched you until you were safe inside your house before pulling out into the road.

Friday night was finally here. You’d never admit it out loud but you were actually looking forward to hanging out with Steve. Even a bit nervous.

You doubted any of your normal wardrobe was suitable for a first date so you bought a sage green skirt at the mall after one of your shifts that week.

You paired it with a plain white tank top and your usual black high top converse (you couldn’t stray too far from who you really were).

You straightened your hair and almost poked yourself in the eye putting on mascara.

“Not too bad, Y/N,” you surveyed yourself in the mirror once you were finally ready.

You grabbed your purse and sat on the front steps of your house, waiting for Steve to arrive.

Ten minutes late was excusable, his hair routine was quite complicated and thorough.

Twenty minutes, maybe there was just really bad traffic.

Thirty minutes was pushing it.

You called it quits when the clock hit 8:01. If he tried to show up any later than this, you wouldn’t be going out with him regardless.

You sulked back inside and stripped off your outfit, trading it in for pajamas. You wiped off your makeup and put your hair up in a ponytail.

This is how your Friday night was supposed to go anyways, minus the crushing disappointment of being stood up.

You pulled a pint of ice cream out of the freezer and clicked on the TV, trying to distract yourself from the pain of rejection.

You woke up in the same spot on the couch the next morning, the TV still on and your empty ice cream carton sticking to the coffee table.

You had the opening shift at work today so you forced yourself to get up and change into that god-awful uniform.

Luckily, you managed to fix your bike so you could get to work on time.

However, that didn’t seem to matter because when you pulled into the parking lot, the mall was completely burnt to the ground.

You set your bike down on the sidewalk and ran up to a group of firefighters who were chatting.

“Excuse me?” you asked, “What happened?”

“We don’t know much of anything right now, sweetheart. Just that the whole place set ablaze last night. Two casualties,” he reported.

“May I ask who?” you gulped, suddenly concerned for Steve’s safety.

“Chief Hopper and Billy Hargrove,” he stated.

“That’s awful,” you shook your head in disbelief.

Sure, you weren’t really a big fan of Billy but you didn’t want him dead.

“You should get back home. I doubt you’ll be working for a while,” the firefighter turned back to his group.

You biked home, trying to process all this information. You must have zoned out and gone into autopilot because when you looked up from your handlebars, you were home.

Except there was a very unwelcome guest leaning against his car hood in your driveway, waiting for you.

His face was clearly swollen and bruised.

“Don’t you look pretty?” you quipped, hopping off your bike and pushing it up your driveway.

“Y/N, can we please talk?”

“Let me remind you of our deal, Harrington. I give you one chance and if it doesn’t go well, you won’t bother me ever again. Suffice to say, it didn’t go well. It didn’t go at all actually cause you didn’t fucking show up.”

“Yes but I have a really good excuse,” Steve countered.

“Try me.”

“I was kidnapped by Russians who have a secret laboratory under the mall,” Steve spoke like it wasn’t the most bizarre statement ever.

“Yeah, okay,” you laughed, “So when’s our next date?”

“Really?!”

“No, moron!” you snapped back, “Clearly, that’s so made up. If you’re going to lie, at least make it something believable. Or, just tell me the truth that you didn’t want to go on a date with me! Or even better, don’t ask me out just to mess with my feelings if you aren’t going to fucking show up,” you yelled.

You could feel the tears of frustration welling up in your eyes.

“Robin was there too! You can ask her,” Steve insisted, “Or Dustin. Dustin Henderson who comes into the shop all the time.”

“Sure thing, I’ll just ask your two best friends who would clearly lie for you and just believe every word they say,” you sarcastically replied.

“You have to believe me, Y/N. I seriously wouldn’t miss this date if this didn’t happen.”

“Please just go home and stop bothering me, Steve,” the tears started to roll down your cheeks, “Please.”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Steve relented, witnessing the pain he was putting you through, “Um, you have my number if you ever wanna call. I guess I won’t be seeing you at work for a while.”

“I think that’s for the best,” you sighed, wiping your eyes against your sleeve.

You turned to go inside and placed your hand on the doorknob.

“Is there any way I can make this up to you?” Steve called out.

“Not unless you can actually prove you’re telling the truth,” you spoke before heading inside and locking the door behind you.

“That’ll be $11.37, sir,” you slid the box of cigarettes and soda back across the counter.

The man handed you a twenty and you gave him his change before he returned back to his car at the gas pump.

Since the mall was still in ashes, maybe never to be rebuilt, you had to look for work elsewhere. You got a job at the gas station convenience store in town.

Despite not having to wear that stupid sailor uniform, you hated it more than Scoops Ahoy. It was lonely.

You wished the mall hadn’t burnt down. You wish you could still be scooping ice cream with Steve. And you wish he hadn’t stood you up so you could still hang out with him.

I mean you technically still could, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to go crawling back to him, only to be most likely stood up again.

A familiar maroon BMW pulled into the gas station. Great.

The bell chimed above the door, meaning he had entered but you kept your head down.

You heard his footsteps stop when he realized it was you behind the counter.

He cleared his throat, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Got to make money somehow,” you replied.

“Twenty dollars on pump two,” he slid a twenty across the table.

“That all?” you asked.

“Add a large blue slushie and M&M’s too please,” Steve pulled out another five from his wallet before heading to fill his cup.

You handed him back his change as he set the cup back down at the counter. He pocketed the change and began to leave.

“Um, you’re forgetting your stuff,” you gestured to the counter in confusion.

“Oh, those are for you. They’re your favorites, right?”

“Yeah, they are. Um, thanks, I guess.”

“When does your shift end?” Steve asked.

You glanced at the clock, “An hour and twenty minutes.”

“Do you mind if I bother you once last time tonight?”

“I guess it couldn’t hurt, I’m already bored out of my mind. I’m literally counting holes in the wall at this point.”

“Okay, stay right there,” Steve spoke, “I’ll be back in 30.”

“It’s my job. I’m kinda stuck here,” you smiled ever so slightly.

“Right,” Steve remembered, “That was stupid. Anyways, I’ll be right back.”

You watched Steve run out to his car and swiftly pull out of the gas station.

“He forgot to get his gas,” you laughed to yourself as you refunded his money.

As promised, Steve was back in 27 minutes and 42 seconds. No, you weren’t counting.

He was followed into the store by a young girl who had her arms crossed.

“This is Erica Sinclair,” he introduced her to you.

“Um, hello,” you waved to her.

“Tell Y/N how you feel about me,” he prompted her.

“He’s a nerd who spends way too much time on his hair. He’s not very bright which might explain why the majority of his friends are like five years younger than him. And he wasn’t even that good scooping ice cream,” Erica sassed.

“So you agree she doesn’t like me?” Steve looked to you as you stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, I would say so,” you replied, giving Erica a high-five.

“Erica, what happened on the night of Friday, July 4th?” Steve asked her.

“I had to go through this tunnel in the ceiling at the mall because I was bribed with free cream for life. But then, we discovered this secret elevator and the older kids got captured. Basically long story short, we saved their asses from evil Russians who were trying to open up this portal thingy.”

“How do I know you’re not paying her to say whatever you want?” you asked.

“Oh, I’m being paid to come here,” Erica answered, “Erica does nothing for free. But I wouldn’t lie on this guy’s behalf just to get him a girlfriend who is way out of his league.”

“Okay, that’s enough from you,” Steve handed her a twenty, “Please go wait in the car.”

Erica happily skipped outside.

“I can’t say I believe it but I guess I’ll just have to trust you on this,” you spoke.

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“Should I not be?” you questioned.

“No, you definitely should be. I’m 100% telling you the truth here,” he answered sincerely.

The more that you thought about it, it was way too crazy of a story to make up as an excuse. Plus, that would explain the bruises all over his face that morning. And the reason for the mall fire was still a mystery so you couldn’t exactly disprove him.

“One more chance, Harrington. I’m serious. No excuses this time, not even evil Russians.”

“Yes, thank you! I promise you won’t regret it,” he smiled widely.

“I really don’t know why this was worth all your trouble. A date with me already cost you twenty bucks in bribe money.”

“Worth every single penny,” Steve replied.

You just stared at him. How was he so damn charming all the time? You hated it. That was a lie. You were a sucker for it.

Your eyes flickered down to his lips. He noticed and smirked.

“Do you want to kiss the Steve Harrington, Y/N?” he spoke smugly, leaning over the counter.

“Nope.”

Such a lie.

“That’s a real shame cause I really want to kiss you,” he answered.

You blushed, finally giving in and leaning to meet him halfway. It was gentle and deliberate, as if he was scared one wrong move would have you disappear from his life again.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his fingers tangling in your hair. He tasted like peppermint gum and cherry chapstick.

When he pulled away, you felt like you were floating. Your lips tingled with a fuzzy sensation.

He leaned his forehead up against yours, “I have to bring Erica home before her bedtime. Lucas is covering for her.”

“Don’t forget to actually get your gas on the way out this time,” you whispered, smiling.

“Give me another blue slushie. I think they’re my favorite now too,” he grinned.

A/N: sorry if you were expecting a spencer reid fic lol. i tried writing for a different character, i would love to know what you thought <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort

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aetheternity · 3 years ago

Text

How they simp ft the Aot boys

This is both Aot universe and Modern universe. I’ll separate them accordingly.

(The charismatic simp): Jean

•Aot verse:

☆ He's gonna become your friend as soon as he realizes he has a crush on you and he'll do everything in his power to stay by your side when that happens.

☆ He'll slide into the first available seat next to you in the mess hall and bring extra bread so that he can slide it onto your plate if you're extra hungry.

☆ If you spend a lot of time in the library he'll find a book similar to whatever he'd seen you reading before. (Of course he has to ask Armin what kind of books would be similar to your current choice.)

☆ And once he knows your favorite genre he'll head to the library late at night and grab a couple from that genre. Bookmarking his favorite pages so he can talk to you about it and you'll think he's super smart. (He's definitely fallen asleep with many books on his lap, chest and head since he started crushing on you.)

☆ If you have a hobby that's more interactive like sewing or flower picking he'll offer to carry your little basket or wear the thing you're currently stitching up so you can work better.

☆ And yes he did get caught wearing flowers in his hair by Eren. But it was because you'd smiled so fondly at him while sticking daisies in his brown hair. Giggling so cutely when they fell out. And he was gonna take that memory to his fucking grave regardless of what titan idiot had to say about it.

☆ And yes he did get caught wearing a skirt that you were fixing for Historia. By both Connie and Levi.

☆ Levi who went pale in the face and looked as though he was secretly praying for his own demise to come soon as he slowly closed the door and walked away.

☆ And Connie who laughed so hard he choked on his own spit and had to be helped to the infirmary because he was now coughing every time he breathed. So Karma ig 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

☆ He just has to touch you..

☆ Oh God he wants to. He's gonna find a way. Whether it's a little shoulder nudge when you're complimented during meetings by higher ups. Or pats on your back.

☆ If you confide in him about your lack of confidence before a mission he's gonna sit with you and talk you through your feelings.

☆ He does this thing where he leans into you when talking. Rests his hand on your lower back as his breath touches your ear. Whispers sweet compliments into your ear because you need that shit.

☆ And it's good enough to make your toes curl.

☆ Guides you by the wrist through thick crowds so you don't get overwhelmed or lost and sometimes you expect it so you reach out for him and the two of you end up holding hands instead.

☆ He's become your little nurse. Like of course he's worried when you get hurt but there's also the opportunity to fix you up. So silver linings 🙄.

☆ If you're allergic to anything he doesn't have it in his first aid kit. Sometimes you'll get like the smallest little bruise on your knee of some shit. And it's not even from training, you just happened to trip while cleaning the stables and now: thumb sized bruise. But he's like "I don't care, sit so I can clean it."

☆ "It could get infected!" He'll try to convince you but like no, no it couldn't come on now it wasn't even really bloody..

☆ If you just so happen to have extra chores he'll go out and bring you some water then offer to help. Or he'll just ask Levi if he can go help you.

☆ "Those boxes could be heavy." He'll tell the Captain. "We don't need anyone getting unnecessarily injured before the next mission." And of course Levi knows what he's doing and sends him to go help because he honestly doesn't wanna listen to this anymore.

☆ If you have back problems or even if you don't he wants to carry your bag. No you don't get a say in it. But you can go ahead and argue with him if you want to.

• "I just think it looks too heavy."

• "Jean, I'm ok I promise."

• "Ok how about this? Let me hold it for a couple minutes then I'll give it right back."

☆ Yeeeaah. You're not getting your shit back. He's gonna walk you all the way to your designated location and then put the bag down where you need to be for that time period. Even if it completely inconveniences him.

☆ And he won't tell you that he had a meeting that he's now over 12 minutes late to. You don't need to know it'd just worry you for no reason.

☆ He has adapted some sort of like sixth sense when it comes to you. Like sometimes he'll wake up in the middle of the night to pee and just so happens to walk past your bedroom door as you're reading a book on the floor or crying or something.

☆ And now he's sitting with you even though his organs are currently failing.

☆ He'll bring you a glass of water or tea or whatever you want. You want food? He'll find it. Want a book? He'll go get it.

☆ Sometimes he sits in bed with you and just lets you cuddle up to him or reads you a book as you lay on his chest listening to the unsteady beats of his heart. Unsteady cause ya know it's you laying on him. And yeah his face is becoming redder by the second but he can't stop staring at your sleeping face. Even if you snore louder than a titan stomping he doesn't give a single fuck.

☆ At some point everyone thinks you two are dating and they talk to you both as if this is the case but you're not! At least not until Jean finally explains that yes, he does have, "Feelings for you." Tells you exactly how long in fact because to him it's crucial.

☆ When he kisses you it's the type of kiss that makes you suck in air. He takes you by the shoulders, slowly looking for even the smallest bit of hesitation in your face and presses his lips to yours. When you pull away you're lightheaded, pupils blown as you look at him with stars in your eyes.

☆ "Oh.. wow." Is all you mutter.

☆ Good luck, you just fed his giant ego.

•Modern verse:

☆ Modern day Jean is more shy and reserved. He'll definitely try to become your friend but he probably has a lot less opportunities to get you alone.

☆ If you both work at the same place you're probably both confined to your own spaces and if you both go to the same school you might have separate classes.

☆ So here's what he's doing: finding anyway, shape or form to invite you out.

☆ He got an extra ticket to a concert. He'll just not tell Connie and invite you to come with him. Because you know.. you deserve a break after work right? There's a new restaurant opening near him? Cool he's already on the phone telling you their entire menu. (He might have memorized it before calling but he won't tell you he's reading off the menu.)

☆ Sometimes he might go to your desk and leave you something sweet or cute. Like candy or little desk ornaments but he's always too shy to write a note that has his name at the bottom so he settles for staying anonymous. His heart immediately grows three sizes when he sees you playing with the desk ornament he left or eating the candy while typing away at the computer.

☆ He'll look out your favorite band so he can find out when they'll come to the city where you guys live and buy the tickets. Maybe he stays up all night, what does it matter sleep is for the weak.

☆ Or he'll find out your favorite restaurant and go there when he knows you might be going so he can just happen to run into you. No obviously it's not creepy. 😑

☆ If he can't seem to connect with you plan b is to pimp out Sasha. He just has to connect with you! So he'll get Sasha to find out any useful information on you and report back or he'll ask Sasha to become close with your best friends.

☆ If not Sasha then Connie 🤷‍♀️

☆ Once he gets useful information that's when he steps in. Oh you have a presentation for school to work on? He's at your door at 10pm with snacks (that he knows you love thanks to Sasha), energy drinks, and information on the topic you're working on.

☆ I'm talking he brought papers full of information in case you need to beef up your slides. He also brought his own laptop so he can search up any information that seems incorrect. He'll listen to you as you talk about your project and give you feedback on your performance.

☆ This might take all night but he can't help his desire to help you. And of course he's not gonna tell you if he has his own homework to work on.

• "You think it's good? Really?" You'll ask as you close your laptop for the night.

• "You're gonna get an A. Especially since I helped so now it's guaranteed."

• He loves the way you snort and roll your eyes at him when he says this.

• "Thanks Jean, you're a life saver."

☆ If you hug him you might also need to help him up off the floor or bandage him up cause he's gonna hurt himself from the shock and excitement.

☆ If you have a work presentation or just in general need help with something you're doing for your boss. He'll dedicate as much time as he has open to helping you with that too.

☆ Need coffee before your presentation? He's running to the nearest shop. Don't really understand the project your boss gave you? He'll work you through it the whole night.

☆ If you happen to tell him on a Friday that something in your house needs fixing all of a sudden he's 'Fix it Jean' now he's telling you he can fix it tomorrow and the second he hangs up he's looking up how to fix a clogged valve or some shit.

☆ And Sasha and Connie are like, "Sir, what made you think you were a handy man??"

☆ He manages though. Brings like three books to your house and looks through all of them simultaneously. Thinks he messed everything up and is about two seconds away from crying on your floor like a toddler with a spilled juice box but he pulls through surprisingly. Has your shit fixed and gets a little kiss on the cheek.

☆ Which leads into him guiltily explaining the truth and telling you everything. From the trinkets to the tickets to now with this thing he nearly ruined in your apartment. But he's so relieved to see you're grateful for everything instead of annoyed like he'd been believing in his head.

☆ Now he gets a real kiss. And Modern day Jean is built different. He's so nervous to touch you like you're made of glass. But when he does he's got his hands on your sides, keeping you in place like you'll run. Your fingers delicately threading through his hair. Giving you the kind of kiss you don't wanna pull away from. You become so quickly attached to the taste of his lips and the subtle beats of hesitation still lingering on him.

☆ You wanna pull his tongue into your mouth. Keep him so close but he pushes you back. "I wanna take you on a date." He mutters with glassy eyes and bright cheeks.

☆ And obviously you say, "Yes."

(The informed simp): Armin

•Aot verse:

☆ As everyone has said a thousand times before. Armin is an informed simp. And within the first week of knowing he has a crush on you he has information on, your family life before you joined the Corp, your favorite food, your favorite color, your favorite flower, your hobbies etc etc.

☆ And every bit of that information is stored in his file cabinet like brain.

☆ When he found out your favorite color he wore it as often as possible in out of uniform situations. Even if it was just accenting the rest of his clothes he found a way to wear it somewhere.

☆ He skimmed through books that had information on attraction and started subtly complimenting you to make you notice him.

• "Hi, [Name] that jacket really brings out your eyes."

• "It's the same jacket everyone's wearing Armin.."

• "Oh.. yeah.."

☆ Sneaks references to things you like into conversation as often as possible. Because you know, right after a meeting is the best time to talk about how your favorite song is tied to the fact that your mom used to sing it to you to help you sleep?? 😃

☆ More power to him.. he's a little confused but he's got the spirit.

☆ He slipped flowers into your favorite books but it didn't really seem to matter because he was never there when you actually encountered the flowers. (But he did often see you talking about the plants with your friends and twirling them between your fingers) good enough.

☆ He found out ways to better help your digestion. You know because what's love if not healthy bowel movements.. cause like every other attempt made him look stupid so he looked through some books on foods to help keep your colon healthy. And he explained it over dinner..

☆ Safe to say the only one who thought this topic was at all interesting was Levi.

☆ He's absolutely bombing and he hates it. At this point you only give him shy little smiles and then just walk away. He knows you probably don't hate him but he hates that nothing is working for him.

☆ At some point Eren's talking to him solo and he explains that he knows about his crush on you. Following it up promptly with, "Why don't you just tell [Name] that everything you were doing wasn't to be weird, at this point coming clean is probably the only way you could still have a chance."

☆ And he hates it that Eren's right. But he marches right up to you when you have chores out in the stables because if he didn't he'd never say all the things rushing around in his brain.

• "Hi Armin." You greet with that smile.. that smile that makes his stomach tense and his heart want to burst.

• He breathes in before replying, "[Name], I.. like you.." You pause where you're getting water for the horses to see his sun kissed red cheeks. "Everything I've done is because I really like you.." He continues, letting out a shaky breath.

☆ A period of far too long goes by with neither of you saying a word and his blue eyes flicker up to you in concern. When you clap your hands together he nearly parts from his skin.

• "Oh! That explains the weird compliments and the stuff about my mom!" You sigh, slapping your head with a smile. "Oh thank God. Armin I like you too."

☆ More silence because 1. He didn't think you'd like him back and 2. Holy shit you like him back!! He's simultaneously having a party in his brain and melting into the floor.

☆ When he finally kisses you it's unsure. Makes you lean into him. Sweet but subtle like gentle breezes on a hot day. His mouth is closed and his arms cautiously wrap around your waist looking for any sign that you want to get out. But you don't. You just wanna keep pecking his cute little lips because he's so cute and everything he's done is so cute.

• "Finally." You guys turn to see Mikasa and Eren.

• "It's about time." Mikasa greets with a little smirk.

☆ And Armin is practically fainting trying desperately to explain that it wasn't what it looked like but his face continues to tell your little audience that yes. Yes it is what it looks like.

•Modern verse:

☆ Modern day Armin is equipped with an advantage.

☆ Fucking social media.

☆ He went to your page and found out your birthday, your family's last name, how many friends you have in real life. Shit if he dug around long enough he could've probably found your heritage portfolio and your social security. (Social media's a little dangerous sometimes..)

☆ So when he becomes your friend and gets your cell number (Another thing he could've probably dug up online.) He sends you things you might love at any and all times of the day. He spends every free second he has, from lunch time to the last hour he has before he really has to go to sleep researching shit you might like so he can send it to you.

☆ And modern day Armin is so sexy in how he manages to get you into a ton of situations featuring him, your cute little blond simp. Modern day Armin needs to write romance anime 😭

☆ He heard you like aquariums not only did he send you a website to get those tickets way cheaper but he also invited himself (telling you that he was already going). And planned to take you around the city to get your favorite food and any other activities where he could drop his extensive knowledge on marine life. Oh you love astronomy? No problem he was just about to go to the planetarium this weekend, you should definitely go along so he can take you to the planet's light show and stare at you instead of the stars.

☆ Oh your favorite movie is coming out? He had no idea.. he just happened to have an extra ticket to see it the day it comes out. Not only is it now free of charge to you for that but he's also already brought a bunch of your favorite snacks to line his backpack with. Even if your favorite snacks are from a different country he got them express shipped so they'd be there sooner.

☆ He also has weather apps on his phone and laptop so that he'll know if the weather changes even the smallest fraction so that he can take you anywhere else if needed.

☆ Yes he definitely has spent a shit ton of money on you but every time he takes you somewhere your face lights up so beautifully that he'd repeatedly slam his credit card on the table to buy you a plane ticket if you even hinted at wanting it.

☆ In this beautiful opposite world you definitely confessed to him. (You better for his pain and suffering.)

☆ He could've jumped for joy knowing his plans worked perfectly but he simply takes a deep breath, eyes full of contentment as he mumbles, "I feel the same way."

☆ When he kisses you it's with his thumbs lightly rubbing the small of your back. Chewing gum spit out only fifteen minutes ago so his breath was still perfectly fresh. Adding just enough tongue to make you arch and gasp into his mouth. And yeah, he read up on how to do that too. And now that you're his, he's gonna need two jobs cause he came to spoil. No you don't get a say in it.

(The interested simp): Eren

•Aot verse:

☆ Yeah I know this one's weird but let me explain. Eren's simping capabilities are so simple they can be so easily described as, interested.

☆ He legit figured out he had a crush on you and then about 15 minutes later he'd found out everything you'd wanna be if you lived to see the end of the war.

☆ It's so obvious he's simping hard, I mean man's was enamored by you talking about your parents workshop back home. 🙄 You know what I don't even think he was actually interested he was probably playing it up but lowkey disassociated

☆ He definitely gets made fun of for it on the daily too but unlike Jean he kinda shrugs it off.

☆ He's not gonna scavenge the earth for information on you. He's gonna let you tell him and he wants you to tell him. Tell him literally everything about yourself and you will cause he'll know if you don't.

☆ Sometimes he plays little games with you to try to figure out some kind of information about you on like a long ride back from a mission or something. It helps him ease the tension in his brain and gives him something new about you. Win-win

☆ He beat the fucking system by just getting you to talk about you and dropping things you both have in common into conversation. He really did better than Armin!

☆ If you have trouble during training he'll talk you through what you're doing wrong and help you work through your issues. If that leads to some touching well then that's just how things will go 🤷‍♀️

☆ The second he has your favorite color in his mind he's buying you a piece of jewelry with the same stone color. Yes this is him marking you as his and no you probably won't realize but the second you put it on in his eyes you belong to him. And now you can never take it off. 😃

☆ He has a little notebook (not for writing journal entries or anything.) It's just sometimes he forgets certain things you tell him and you pretend to pout when he asks for the information again so he writes it down in the notebook so he can read it and remember it again.

☆ There have definitely been instances on more than one occasion where the two of you would stay up all night talking. Sneak into the other person's room. Sitting on the floor together or side by side on the bed. Those are definitely the best nights because you get to show off your Eren trivia and prove you've retained just as much information on him as he has about you.

☆ Another scenario has presented itself in which you're the one who ends up confessing. Eren would come close cheeks flush with pink and whisper, the ghost of his lips on yours, "I think it's kinda obvious how I feel." When he kisses you it's with both hands cupping your cheeks. So hot against your face. Thumbs curving delicately over your skin. He's leaning into your lips over and over again. Recapturing them every time he pulls back but he also loves making you work for it a little, smirking when you have to strech to capture his lips again. Taking every bit of oxygen from your body. You kinda hold onto him with slightly shaky arms when he's finished. But honestly he's only finished for now cause he'll never get enough of your lips now that he's had a taste.

•Modern verse:

☆ Modern day Eren talked to you before he realized he was attracted to you and you haven't gotten rid of him since the day he realized he wanted you.

☆ He sees you walking to your next class or to the copy machine and he trots his way over to match your pace.

☆ When he's not with you, he's texting you nonsensical stuff he thinks you'll find funny. And when he is with you he's listening to every word you say with the dopiest grin adorning his features.

☆ Sometimes when you're talking he'll unsubtly lick his lips to see if he can make your eyes follow his tongue or he'll lean in closer, kinda crowding you a little if you're both standing. Speaking of crowding he pulls you into him by your hips if you just happen to be standing in the way and someone needs to get past you two.

☆ You'll never understand how much harder he falls for you when you look up at him through your pretty lashes. Hands slightly on his chest.

☆ He loves annoying you. Doing little shit like poking you with the eraser on his pencil or snatching your books from you when you're writing while he's talking. Cause he just thinks you should be staring into his eyes while he talks in the same way he does with you.

☆When he brings you dinner he always brings himself something to eat as well and he'll plop down next to you and ask you for details about your day. Smiling fondly at you when you complain about minor inconveniences.

☆ He loves your fingers so much. If he's not staring into your eyes he's looking at the way your thumb drags over your dripping boba/coffee. The way your fingers click perfectly over every key on your laptop. Every now and then he'll reach out for your hands massaging the knuckles because he just wants to touch them so bad. Bonus points if you smile at him while he does it.

☆ Not gonna lie it could definitely go either way with a confession. But it's probably more likely going to be on you unless he just so happens to accidentally confess while sleepy or drunk.

☆ When he kisses you, he cups your chin pulling you close, angling his tongue so it slides right up against your teeth. He softly hums into your mouth and you can tell he's at least a little nervous but his touch is so perfect. His thumb sliding over the edge of your lips as he sucks your tongue into his mouth. You're more than a little ashamed at the whine you let out when he pulls away. But the way he's blushing makes you feel at least a little bit better.

(The Childish simp): Connie

•Aot verse:

☆ Let's be honest, he doesn't know what he's doing. You know, cause you're his first crush.

☆ He's going to work extra hard to drop even the most random jokes and then look directly at you hoping you laugh. Just laugh cause if you don't he might repeat the joke again and that'd be uncomfortable for everyone.

☆ And when you crack a joke he's out here guffawing like it's the best thing he's ever heard. Like he'll legit pause all conversation with his loud ass laughing and everyone in the room is just like: 😒

☆ If he gives you gifts they're normally things he thinks are cool or awesome but every now and then he'll pick a flower and just randomly stuff it in your hair and when you look at him confused smile adorning your face he'll say, "It fits your face." And then awkwardly gesture at you. All you can really say is thank you.

☆ He practically crashes into the seat next to you at meetings. Jean dead ass started pretending to race him for the seat next to you and one time he tipped the chair over and fell on top of it, Levi made him reenter the room properly after he'd managed to stand up.

☆ He sometimes does that I'm not touching you thing to get your attention or taps your shoulder then looks away as you turn to look at him. He'll poke your shoulder a couple times until he's successful in keeping your eyes on him then he'll hover his finger over your head or shoulder until you roll your eyes.

• "Connie.."

• "I'm not even touching you!" He'll laugh

☆ He does nice things for you but they never really work out well for him. One time he got you a glass of water because he thought you looked thirsty and he placed it in front of you when you weren't looking. You turned from where you were talking with Historia and your elbow tipped over the cup spilling its contents all over your lap and meeting notes. He felt so so bad.

☆ One time you tripped during training and got a huge scratch on your leg and Levi stepped in to care for you. He asked Connie to go get the alcohol and in his excitement he ran back and tripped spilling the entire bottle all over the floor. Eren had to go run to the closest store and get more.

☆ At some point in time he walks into your room and sloppily pours his feelings out to you as you sit on your bed staring at him in confusion. His face is like beet red and he's breathing like he just ran a marathon. But you laugh and tell him you think he's adorable. You think he's gonna hug you when he pulls you in under your arms but he just holds your back super tight with both hands and swings you around till you can't stop giggling. His kiss is sweet a little sloppy cause it's his first but he's eager and cute as he pulls you into his chest. Probably bites your lip in a playful way and you can't help but lean into him.

•Modern verse:

☆ Modern day Connie is probably annoying the fuck out of you. He sends you memes all day! Put your phone on silent all you want you'll just come back to 40+ messages. And he likes to call you when he's not busy which means you're forever regretting giving him your number.

☆ He'll deadass go to the bathroom and face time you in the stall talkin bout some, "What're you doing right now?" And you're like, "Mfer what are you doing right now!"

☆ He takes any given opportunity to flirt with you and he's so goofy you won't realize he genuinely means everything he says,

• "I really hate your last name." He randomly says

• "What'd my last name do to you?"

• He shrugs, "I think you should change it."

• "To what?" You scoff

• "Springer 😘"

☆ And he calls you for the stupidest shit when he's at home:

• "Connie, what's wrong? You called me like four times in a row."

• "Which animals do you think would be the bitchest if they spoke human?"

• "Bye Connie 😑"

• "No wait!"

• "What?"

• "Send nudes."

☆ Loves to lay on you when you're sitting. Like he'll deadass drop his whole weight onto your back while you're sitting in your desk chair trying to work. He's just looking for a way to touch you and doesn't know how to express that.

☆ Yes he does have you in his phone as something crass and no he's not willing to change it. Most likely some shit like fat ass with a heart or Mommy/Daddy as a personal joke.

☆ And yeah you find him super annoying until this one night when he's texting you pics of his old family dog back home and he tells you everything about the dog's life from when he was a puppy to the day he passed and he shows you pics of him kissing the little pups head and holding him and things like that. The last video he sent was him crying while holding a framed photo after the dog's passing during Christmas time. And it's the first time you've ever been provoked to hug Connie instead of choke him.

☆ When the time finally comes for Connie to tell you his feelings you're in a good place to accept them and tell him you like him back. And that's when he pulls you in around the neck and gives you a surprisingly natural kiss. His mouth is parted slightly, hands gripping the back of your shirt a little as he keeps you close. He allows you to take the lead. Forehead warm where it's pressed against his. You both can't help but stay like that for awhile.

(The lowkey simp): Levi

•Aot verse:

☆ Rule number 1 you cannot know he is simping. He'll take it to his grave but if you're not oblivious you'll probably catch on.

☆ When he disassociates during a meeting his eyes get darker in the middle and he just rests his chin on his palm and stares at you. Doesn't matter that the meeting has been going on for more than an hour and he has yet to blink. He doesn't even know he's doing it. When he comes back down to earth he just blinks normally and looks away. And if no one tells him he'll honestly continue to do it. Sometimes in different positions, he's laying back in his chair head forward but his eyes are on you a couple seats down on the other side of the table.

☆ He picks up items whenever he goes into town. And I mean every. single. time. For you and he makes sure it's something you'll love and while you're out training he'll stuff it in a box and place it on your bed.

☆ He writes you anonymous notes with little inspirational words on them in places only you'll find them. But it's inspirational in Levi terms so it's shit like, "Stay alive for tomorrow." And "Don't look down because the sun is up."

☆ When he needs a break from work he just closes his eyes and thinks about you. Sometimes he does it just because he secretly loves that warm floating sensation he gets.

☆ Like Eren he'll trot up beside you whenever he can. But he won't say a word unless you say something first.

• "Hi Captain." You greet when he pops into your peripheral vision.

• Genuinely can not help how soft his eyes are when he looks at you, "Hello." He replies

☆ He'll find some reason to complain about the way his entire squad cleans their rooms so that he can also have an excuse to say he'll reclean them so that he has an excuse to make a bee line for your room first and be trapped in your scent. Taking your sheets off the bed and holding them to his chest, sweeping, getting that extra elbow grease on the windows so they're more spotless than even his standards.

☆ And of course because he doesn't want you to know he's simping hard for you he has to deal with you paying him the same amount of attention as the other higher ups which he hates with a burning passion. Like why don't you like him more? He does way more for you on a level that you can see. You should be more affectionate towards him. You talk to him everyday.

☆ I don't think I need to tell you Levi's shy so you'll be confessing. And you start by telling him you know the notes are from him because while Levi's intelligent he's also stupid. Like who the fuck else has access to your uniform clothes and would care enough to go in your drawers just to leave a piece of paper with the words, "Life is never so shitty that you can't at least better yourself."

☆ He kinda just lowers his head as pink soaks his entire face. And you lift his chin up to press a slow chaste kiss on his lips. He doesn't touch you. He can't bring himself to but he manages to kiss back. His irises so bright when you pull away. "Thank you Captain." You tell him before you leave. He's definitely genuinely worried his heart is getting ready to explode as he stares at the closed door.

•Modern verse

☆ Modern day Levi is a fucking mess. He doesn't know shit about having a crush and he knows it's you really early into meeting you but he's like, why them. He managed to spend his entire existence avoiding romance and yet here you are. He doesn't even know what he wants from you so sometimes he comes off a little more aggressive when he's talking to you.

☆ He stares directly into your soul when you're sitting across from him for any reason. You had to have had a crush on him first because he genuinely doesn't know what to do with himself.

☆ If you invite him somewhere he scoffs immediately following it up with a, "I'll be there."

☆ He rereads your messages whenever he's bored. And if you send him good morning texts he'll be thinking, morning beautiful angel. The one time you sent him a good morning text with a heart he analyzed it so long that he never replied back to you.

☆ The second he figured out how to use personalized ringtones he made yours something soft and sweet. Most likely with violins or maybe with a harp.

☆ A couple times while he was bored during a meeting or class he wrote your initials in cursive in his notebook. One time he wrote it on the front of his notebook by accident and had to throw that one away. Which honestly made him sad because he really liked how it looked.

☆ When you confess to him it's by accident and the way his face lights up is actually the most precious thing you've ever seen. He comes back down to earth slow and admits that he "feels the same." Under his breath of course but you heard and that's what counts.

☆ When you kiss him you instantly notice how small his lips actually are 🥺🥺 like you've stared at them before when he was eating and stuff but his lips are cute and so small. And he's so hesitant to kiss back. But then he does and you can kinda feel the tension leave him a little. His arms a little shaky as he supports himself. It probably looks like two middle schoolers kissing for the first time honestly. Right down to the sitting on the edge of the bed thing. But Levi's lips are so warm and he's such a naturally good kisser that you indulge for as long as you can.

#aot x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot imagines #aot scenario #levi ackerman x reader #armin arlert x reader #eren jaeger x reader #jean krischtein x reader #connie springer x reader #levi ackerman x you #armin arlert x you #eren jeager x you #jean krichtein x you #connie springer x you #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #And this is how you write actual gender neutral headcanons 🙄

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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joonlaksme · 3 years ago

Text

October 19th

Kim Namjoon - Heels

It was pretty normal at your “woman’s” shoe store that you’d see men. Usually, they’re there to pick up orders, shop for their family or significant others. However, you could tell this man was different. A tall man stood out as he was at the corner of your store with his eyes laid on a particular shoe you were proud of designing. It must’ve been a few hours by now that he was standing there. But instead of having one of your employees approach him like you usually do with a curious customer, this was a special case. You decided to go up to him yourself. It was close to closing time anyways and you rather not make your workers do more when they shouldn’t have to.

“May I help you sir?” You ask, putting on your best customer service voice. When he turns to find the person who owns that voice, your jaw nearly drops to the floor. High cheekbones, colored with dusty pink and plump lips had you at a loss for words.

“I- um…” He looks down to the floor, “Are you closing, now?”

“Yes, we have to close a bit earlier today since it’s Friday.” You reply, trying your best not to stutter.

He smiles a little and you can see dimples pop up on his cheeks. “And…you’re the owner, I assume?” His eyebrows raise.

You nod, a bit surprised at how he knew that but you keep it to yourself. Maybe it was an educated hunch.

“Then…I know you’re closing now but I’d just like to see…these.” He points to the black stiletto on display. A sleek and skinny gold colored heel reflects his face. Many people are drawn to it and it’s one of your best sellers.

“Oh, of course.” You say but then you pause. The storage room must be closed for the night and you’d rather not take half an hour trying to mess with the lock until it opens until tomorrow. “But…can you fix locks?”

When he tries to open the door, sure, the door is finally open now. But now your door knob is gone. This is an appropriate time to have your jaw meet the floor. How was that even possible? To pull a doorknob so gently with what looks like grace and for it to just as smoothly, come off.

He’s not as surprised as you are but let’s out a disappointed groan. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll pay for it.”

You chuckle, “No need, we were going to replace it anyways-“

“I can ask my friend, Yoongi, to come and fix it. He’ll probably be pissed but he gets the job done.” He smiles, and it makes your heart warm.

“I’ll take you up on that.” You wink, and then immediately regret it as he follows behind you in the storage room. You find exactly what you’re looking for and take them out of the box. “We don’t have many sizes but if you aren’t in a hurry to get them, I could tailor them to whatever size you need and your preference.”

“I…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I know this is a weird request but- can I see them on you?”

You laugh, but only for a short while. He’s dead serious. But honestly, you’ve been asked far worse. You tell him as much and then nod to his question. Slipping them on is easy, they’re a size bigger than what you prefer. And yet…

“Oh…” He breathes out. You look up and see him analyzing them as if they’re the most interesting thing he’s seen all day. That’s when it hits you.

“You know…I have one that might be able to fit you…” It’s a risky comment but you were right on the dot. His face explodes with heat from his blushing, going off in ranting and stuttering. It’s cute to see him freak out about you finding out his secret. “Are you interested?”

It’s when he seemed done with his shock, is when you asked him the question. At first, he nibbles on his lips, trying to think of an excuse. Maybe some way of convincing you that he’s not like ‘that’. Whatever ‘that’ is supposed to mean. But then he realizes this might be his only chance. He takes his time to look you in the eyes. Sure, there’s plenty of amusement there but he doesn’t see any disgusted or annoyed expressions like he thought he would. He mumbles something.

“What was that?” You ask, leaning in closer.

“Namjoon. My name.”

With a soft smile settling on your face, you reply with, “And I’m Y/N. But you probably already knew that.”

It must’ve been only mere minutes later that you were sitting on Namjoon’s lap, in a creaky chair at the corner of the storage room. Your lips were on his, intensely grinding your body in some unknown rhythm. He put on those black stilettos but you never knew how amazing they could look on a man such as himself. You never knew until now. You practically jumped his bones as soon as you saw them.

“What do you like so much about them?” You ask, lips buried in his neck as you look for a spot that’ll make him go wild.

He can’t get a word out, let alone a sentence. He’s never been this turned on before and especially by this kink that he can’t understand. All he knows is that he’s sensitive from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Every wave of satisfaction has him taking in another big breath.

Things are going fast. To the point that you’re stuffing your hand down his pants to get him off, while in this weird position just so he can see your heel and your legs better. You can tell by the way his eyes glaze over, how much he enjoys the view.

“You do such a good job at wearing them.” You whisper. You want to kiss those captivating lips again but you aren’t in any position to do so unless you want to hurt your leg. He moans breathily at your compliment and that’s enough for you.

Today, specifically, is your favorite. Maybe you’ll make some more men sized heels. Just. For. Namjoon.

#bts #bts rm #bts drabble #kinktober masterlist #kinktober #bts kinktober #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #dom reader #namjoon x female reader #sub namjoon #dom!reader #sub!namjoon

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said.

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath.

“You okay?”

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said.

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders.

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased.

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said.

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head.

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled.

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.”

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly.

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it.

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...”

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath.

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids.

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed.

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk.

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said.

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple.

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut.

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said.

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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letarasstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Making the Voice quieter

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it!

Summary: Spencer finds out about his daughter's eating disorder, he will he react?

Warnings: Angst, discription of an eating disorder (bulemia to be more specific), discription of (binge) eating, bad body image, self hatred, abuse of pills (diet pills)

Wordcount: 2.2k

✨Masterlist✨

______________________________

Prison. Cat. Diana. All those things happened close to each other. Luckily a few months have passed since then and slowly everything settles down. Spencer is able to get his feelings sorted through, processing the events.

Ever since his imprisonment he follows a more or less strict routine, given the uncertainty coming with his job. Spencer still tries to keep it up. So is every Friday dedicated to buying the majority of groceries and needed non food articles.

Sometimes (Y/N) tags along, other days she already has plans with her friends. Her father doesn’t mind it much, he is happy to see her socializing with people her age. The two of them have one father-daughter-night in the week anyways.

“Sweetheart, I’m heading out! Did you put everything you need on the list?” He shouts into the apartment. A faint “Yes! Love you!” echoes back to him. A smile forms on the doctor’s face. Oh how he longed to hear those words from her every night while he laid in his bed, locked up for a crime he didn’t commit. “Alright, love you, too!”

Meanwhile her father has to deal with Karens being their ignorant selfs, (Y/N) is under the biggest stress she has ever been. The end of her sophomore year and suddenly every teacher thinks it’s alright to give the students a load of work in every single class.

It’s beginning to get to her head. Four essays, three projects and studying for two tests and everything is due next week. She can see herself sitting at that very desk for the whole weekend, trying to contain control of her current situation.

As (Y/N) begins to read the page in front of her again to pull any information from it, it feels like her brain shuts down. Only one thought possesses her. One thing that can assure her, make her happy again.

Her body moves automatically, into the kitchen to the fridge. Her hands grab what they can. Puddings, yogurts, bananas, apples, last night’s dinner, everything that she can carry. Then the teenager sits down at the floor and devours everything she just got out. (Y/N) doesn’t stop until she gets to this intense feeling of being full.

It seems like she snaps out of a trance. Upon seeing what she ate in the shortest time, the girl feels even worse. Quickly she tries to destroy any kind of evidence, getting the trash out, making the fridge appear more full than it is, anything.

In her panicked state she remembers the small container of pills in her room. Relief washes over (Y/N), thinking everything will be better. She takes two of them for good measurement.

With the relief also guilt takes over. What just happened wasn’t normal. But (Y/N) tells herself that she can stop any time she wants. It’s not like she is sick or something, everything is fine. It’s just her way to copy stress. A way she discovered while her father was in prison. The diet pills help her to undo her mistakes. Someone from her friend group, who is already 18, got her them from the doctor for a fair price.

Feeling calmer now, the teenager sits back at her desk. A new perception of control helps her to continue her school work. She has to get done as much as possible, because in not even half an hour (Y/N)’s best friend will be the toilet.

Spencer is completely obvious to it. Sure, he is a profiler and he noticed his daughter’s new view on eating healthy food and working out. He just assumes that (Y/N) and her friends are on a healthy trip and he doesn’t see a problem in this. On the contrary, he is happy that she wants to be good to herself and her body.

But as the weeks go on, a suspicious feeling captures him. “(Y/N)? Why is the fridge nearly empty? We got groceries last Friday and it’s only Tuesday. Did you have a party over here while I was away on the case?” Spencer enters his daughter’s room, trying to joke about it.

(Y/N) freezes. Of course she isn’t able to say that the food went bad and she threw them away, her father is meticulous regarding this subject, always checking the best before day date. “Uhm, please don’t be mad. But Alex, you know her, the short one with red hair, uhm her parents are on a business trip and she is not the best cook. So I brought her lunch and dinner over. I’m sorry for not telling you.” She looks down at the floor, not only to feign sadness but also to avoid his eyes.

The second the teenager talks Spencer knows there is something fishy. Her voice is higher and she fidget with her hands. But he writes it off as being nervous for not telling him. Ever since he is out of prison, it feels like his daughter is withholding something.

“It’s fine, Sweetheart. Just give me a heads-up beforehand, so I know to buy more groceries. What do you think about ordering something tonight? I heard from Luke that a small Chinese restaurant opened a few streets down. We can celebrate the end of the stressful phase in Sophomore year.”

It seems like (Y/N) is calculating something in her head. Spencer knows exactly what she thinks about. “You can forget about your calorie intake for one night. I see how much time you invest in living healthy, but we can let loose for a night together. Just some noodles with chicken or spring rolls and us trying to use chopsticks and giving up after two minutes and resorting to forks. How does that sound?”

The teenager would love to sigh, but it would only alarm her father further. “Yeah, you are right. Let us let loose. But only if I can choose the movie we watch after dinner!” (Y/N) feels bad for eating unhealthy food again. Her last binge was only yesterday and usually she tries to consume lighter things. But she has to bite into the sour apple, else her father will be more suspicious. After all, she can just stop. (Y/N) promises herself to not think about her weight, her shape or the calories she will eat.

Well yeah, no. Just after the first noodle hits her tongue, intrusive thoughts take a seat in her mind, getting settled.

‘You already look like a potato.’

‘Are you sure this is the right thing to eat?’

‘Can you really stop?’

‘Dad is going to hate you when he finds out.’

All of them and more enter her head. (Y/N) is unable to shake them off. She is fine. She doesn’t have a problem. She just doesn’t feel like eating now, that’s fine, right?

“Uhm Dad. I’m full and really tired from the day. Is it ok if I go to bed? Maybe we can rain check on that movie?” The girl asks, feeling even worse for ditching her father. Usually it’s the other way around.

“Are you feeling ok? You look a little pale. Are you sick?” Spencer fires his question canone being the borderline helicopter father he always is. “Yes, just really exhausted from all the assignment and school work. A good night's rest and I will be good as new.” (Y/N) attempts a small smile, but fails miserably at it.

“Ok, sleep tight baby. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge for you tomorrow.” Quickly she goes into her room. The thoughts in her head scream louder and louder with each step she takes. Can she really stop? Maybe she should come clean to her father.

‘And risking him hating you? Look at you, thinking you are sane is the only thing keeping him from abandoning you. How would you explain him keeping you otherwise? It’s definitely not for your looks.’

Later that night, (Y/N) hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep because of the voices, she makes her way back to the kitchen. In an attempt to distract herself, the teenager scrolled through her social media sites. There she was met by pictures of perfect people.

Perfect bodies. Perfect lives. Perfect smiles. Perfect family. Perfect friends. Everything about them is perfect.

And then there is her. Her body is unperfect. Her life is a mess. Her smile is not that of a model. Her family is just her, her father and the people he works with. Her friends aren’t always the best associates.

The stress of not feeling enough is getting to (Y/N)’s head. Like several times before that her body goes into auto. She doesn’t control her movements, though she tells herself all of this is willently.

Like so many times before the girl goes through the fridge and eats everything up she can get her fingers on. But this time one thing is different. Her father is at home. And he isn’t a heavy sleeper.

The movement in the kitchen wakes him up. Immediately his brain jumps to a burglar or even worse, an UnSub they once arrested coming after him. Quickly he gets his revolver and sneaks through the hallway to the source of the noises. As Spencer only sees his daughter sitting there, he instantly relaxes.

“Hey Sweetheart, what are you doing up? It’s a school night”, he softly asks in order to not scare her. Still, (Y/N) gets startled at the sudden voice.

“Uhm, nothing much. Just hungry. Probably because I didn’t eat dinner”, she explains, looking at her father like he caught her with her hand stuck in the cookie jar. Spencer watches her closely. “This is it? Because from what it looks like you not only ate your dinner but also tomorrow’s breakfast and right now lunch.”

(Y/N) swallows her bite, feeling that sinking reality in her stomach. The pills. She needs the pills fast before her body begins to digest the food. “Uhm, yeah. I probably should go to bed. I need my sleep. Just let me tidy up. Good night, Dad.” But he is quick to stop her.

“(Y/N), I want you to sit down. There is something we have to talk about.” Hesitantly (Y/N) takes a seat. “What is it Dad? Are you reprimanding me for eating? I thought you wanted me to let loose for a night.”

Spencer sits, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Baby, I want you to be alright. But I think you are not.” His eyes get a sad look. “I’m alright. I am fine, Dad. What do you think is wrong with me?”

“Look, (Y/N), I don’t need to be a profiler to see that you are struggling with something. Do you want to tell me about it?” Her answer is a tight lipped smile and a “I’m fine. There is nothing to talk about.”

The father sighs. She is not leaving him much of a choice. “And what about them?” Spencer asks after getting something from the highest shelf in the kitchen, the one (Y/N) barely reaches by stepping on a stool. He sets a little container down on the table.

“Dad I-” “No (Y/N). You don’t need to explain anything. It’s my turn to talk. I found those in your room yesterday while I was looking for a book. At first I thought nothing of it, I mean you are trying to live healthy, so I thought this is part of the process. But then I saw that they have to be prescribed and I know that these aren’t yours.

“I wanted to talk about it with you anyway. But now I know that I caught you binge eating and I see all the signs. I see them and I’m sorry for not acting sooner. (Y/N), you need help and I’m here for you. I know the last few months were especially hard on you. I can’t change what was and what happened, but I will be here for you now." Tears stream down on boths their faces.

(Y/N) is stammering for words. “I-I am fine. I can stop anytime I want. Th-this was a conscious d-decision.” Her father envelops her in a hug, cradling her head to his chest. She begins to sob.

“I know, Sweetheart. It’s hard and it won’t get easier from here on, but I’m here. You know you can’t stop, it’s only an illusion your eating disorder wants you to believe. But we get through it together. You, I and the team if you want to. We take it at your pace.” By now the two are crying loudly.

“I want it to stop, Dad. Please make the voice go away.”

He can’t make it go away. No one can. But Spencer helps to quiet it. Together they tackle the disorder, through the good and the bad times. He takes off from work for a time and (Y/N) out of school for a few weeks to be able to work on it together, to make the voice quieter and her life better.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x teen!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #tw: eating disorder

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Troll #WoW Troll #World of Warcraft Troll

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

"Wish I'd left it there"

Hinny's first kiss in the movies really annoys me, but the script had a line about them talking about Tom Riddle's diary that was actually good (and missed in the books). I thought about that scene after seeing a giftset and then I just started writing a few words about a possible conversation between Harry and Ginny, the night before the Final Quidditch Match (aka the day before they kiss).

Hope it makes some sense!

There is a miserable look on Harry’s eyes that feels strangely familiar to Ginny. It is not that he doesn’t have any reason to be upset on this day; it is the evening of the final Quidditch match, Harry won’t play, he has weeks of detention ahead and he got scared after being involved with a dark art spell.

But the look on his eyes as he stares at the book on his hand - that is not related to any of these reasons.

She is not really surprised when she sees what book he is holding. The potions handbook that she knows was borrowed hurriedly at the library that morning, before Slughorn’s class. After all, Harry hid his original book the day before.

The Half-Blood Prince’s book.

The book that taught him many spells and gave him many tips, a book that Harry treated like an old friend, until… until the book betrayed him. That’s a feeling Ginny knows too well.

She remembers how it was after Christmas in her First Year, when she threw away Tom Riddle’s diary; she tried to get another book to replace it, a place where she could safely put her thoughts. She even wrote a few words, but it wasn’t the same.

Ginny remembers feeling betrayed by the diary, by what it made her do, and yet missing it like a part of herself. That’s the expression on Harry’s face.

He is alone on the couch in front of the fire. Ginny tells herself that she shouldn’t do anything - Ron and Hermione are probably more suited to talk to him, she has a few notes to study or she should even be sleeping before the last match -, but instead she finds herself drawn to Harry's side, sitting next to him.

‘Hey’, she tells and he jumps, his face colouring as it happens lately when she is near. Harry smiles, though it is more of a grimace, and Ginny tries not to let it bother her.

Before yesterday, before he casted that curse, Ginny could swear there was something happening between her and Harry - a sort of dance where they were getting closer and closer, almost touching and recoiling at the last moment, both of them waiting for the right signal to... to it happen. But ever since that story with the dark spell, Harry had withdrawn, avoiding to look at her as if he had let her down somehow, and Ginny had seen the shadow on his eyes as he talked about Dean rejoining the team.

Ginny doesn't really hate that half-blood prince for writing down a nasty spell, but she surely hates him for making Harry miserable. No book should have that power.

‘Hi’, he answers, a little late. ‘Thought you were sleeping already’.

‘Before the match? Too nervous’. She tries to grin, hoping it might infect him a little. ‘I was actually studying History of Magic’.

There is a faint amusement in his eyes now. ‘Wow’.

‘Yeah, I thought, it may make me sleepy or I might actually learn something. Win-win in any case’.

‘Sleepy is better’.

‘And there goes my attempt to get nine OWLS’.

‘Why nine?’

‘It’s more than Ron got. I hope it’s enough to ease Mom since I didn’t get the prefect badge’.

‘Who would want to be prefect?’

‘Not me - imagine being on rounds in a perfect nice Friday night?’, she asks, still light, and Harry looks around briefly, as if he only now realizes what was on Ginny’s mind for a while. They are nearly the last ones in the Common Room.

‘Oh’. Harry bits his lips, the pink in his skin now reaching his neck as the corners of his lips lift up. ‘It’s a nice night’.

And then, finally, Harry is looking at her as he does these days - eyes sparkling, nervous and excited at the same time, his gaze falling to her lips as if he feels drawn to it, before his eyes move to take in her face, every little detail, as if he was tasked to memorize it.

By the amount of time Ginny has caught him staring at her lately, she thinks he could draw her face if he wants to.

‘Ginny’, he whispers tentatively, and her lips part, tongue wettening them almost involuntarily; Harry’s eyes watch that movement and now there is fire on them. ‘I -’

But his words are cut when there is a heavy thump and they look down at the same time to watch the potions handbook opened on the floor. There are only the author’s writings on them; no words scribbled on the pages.

Harry backs away, his face troubled now. Ginny knows she ought to go away too, to give Harry an awkward smile and acknowledge that their moment is over, but she stays.

As easy as it feels when she is around him, it wasn’t to flirt that she went to talk to him in the first place.

‘It is not your fault’, she tells him bluntly. Harry eyes her warily.

‘I casted the spell. I won’t try to -’

‘I meant to trust him. That Prince guy’.

‘Oh’. He looks at the book on his hand. ‘Dunno. I feel stupid’.

‘For trusting a book that ended up disappointing you?’, she asks, inviting him to join her weird joke. Harry blushes, looking strangely flustered about what she is saying.

‘It is not like that, the diary was… truly evil’.

It seems like there is more he wants to say, but Harry looks away.

Ginny shrugs. ‘I know it was evil. Even then, even before I knew to whom it belonged, I knew it was evil and still… I missed it a lot. I tried to get rid of it twice, you know?’

Harry shakes his head. ‘I know about that time you threw it away in Moaning Myrtle’s toilet’.

She gives a reluctant laugh. ‘Not by best moment’, she acknowledges. Harry almost smiles. ‘Before that, before Christmas, I tried to hide in the same place you did. The Room of Requirement, though I didn’t know then what it was. Wish I’d left it forever’.

‘Oh. I never knew’.

‘Yeah, and I spent all holiday Christmas missing it like hell. I was miserable. I thought about it all the time. I would get angry when I saw other books, because it wasn’t the one I wanted’. She pauses. ‘No wonder I took it back first thing’.

Harry looks sheepishly, understanding what she means. ‘I won’t take it back’, he whispers. ‘Not just because of Snape finding out, I just - I just don’t want it right now’.

‘He betrayed you’, she summarizes. Harry startles as if he didn’t think about it in those terms before. ‘I think you should leave it there for a while. Try to forget it. Don't get too attached to it’.

‘Clean myself out of it?’

‘You are not tainted’, she says. Not like she was, she thinks.

Harry’s eyes are hard now, fierce. ‘Neither are you’, he tells her. ‘That diary… his soul… there is nothing of him on you. You are bright and powerful in a way Voldemort could never be’.

She should shudder at the name, but with the way Harry says it, with the resolution in his eyes that leave no room for her self-doubt, Ginny doesn’t fear Voldemort. Harry may have spoken about her brightness, but she thinks his lightness is powerful too, much stronger than the shadow of Voldemort’s name.

‘You can love’, he adds, his voice tender now, and though Ginny can think of a lot of people that she loves - her family, her friends -, she thinks of another type of love, one that she hopes to share with someone someday.

Not anyone. Maybe a special someone, she thinks, admiring the green in his eyes.

‘You can too’, she whispers back. There is a flash of surprise on his eyes, and Ginny wonders if Harry ever heard that he is loved; if he remembers it. But she doesn’t doubt that he can love and he knows it; he is too compassionate to not feel love.

And she wonders if he ever thinks of sharing a different kind of love with someone too.

But for now, she just picks up the book on the floor and gives it back to him.

‘It is just a book’, she says, raising.

Harry nods. ‘Just a stupid book’, he agrees.

‘I’m gonna sleep now - good night, Harry’.

‘Good night’. There is a pause. ‘Catch the snitch tomorrow, yes?’

‘I will wait for you with the snitch on my hand’, she promises him, giving him a small smile. ‘It’s a promise’.

Something flickers in Harry’s eyes, a faint glint of hope that makes Ginny think that tomorrow might be better. Tomorrow might be the day where their dance change tunes. ‘I’ll be waiting’.

#hinny #t: fanfiction #missing moments #hinny fanfic #ginny weasley #harry potter

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crescentsteel · 4 years ago

Text

When in Brazil - Heat

pairing: Hinata x f!reader x Oikawa genre: SMUT wc: 12.1k (I don’t have excuses anymore. Bear with me pls) warnings: threesome, double penetration (all holes involved byee), anal, oral (giving and receiving), degradation, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, dumbification, squirting

[a/n]

For maximum experience, you have to read the series chronologically for context.

Can you believe it? This took me more than a month to finalize because the Oikawa-Hinata dynamic is fucking hard to polish.

I'm staying away from writing smut after this (don't quote me on this).

I need to bathe with holy water after this.

Enjoy, I guess?

Here’s the AO3 link in case tumblr is being shit and crashes on you.

MASTERLIST

The day is almost over, yet it feels like the minutes are ticking by too slowly. You just want to go home. You’re in the diner but all you can think about is throwing yourself onto your mattress and sleeping off the weariness brought by the surge of customers on a Friday night. To make things worse, Shoyo is not doing deliveries today so you have to close the diner all on your own.

You release a burdened sigh before you plaster a rehearsed smile on your already exhausted face. When you are able to recollect yourself, you go back to the array of customers waiting to be attended to.

Amongst the seated crowd is an all too familiar tangerine that stood out effortlessly. He’s never been in your diner as a customer, so seeing him as such is a nice change.

He’s with someone and is so engrossed with their lively conversation that he doesn’t notice you at all. Despite that, it’s still nice to see him. You always see him working so hard that it’s comforting to watch him hanging out and having fun with others.

You’re probably staring because his eyes suddenly dart to you.

Of course, Shoyo being the sunshine that he is, he gives you a warm smile and a friendly wave that you take as your signal to come over to their table.

“Fancy seeing you as a customer, Shoyo,” you say just as affectionately as his smile is. “You brought a friend too,” you add as you turn your head to greet his company.

Once your eyes land on his friend, you feel the strain in your facial muscles as you try to maintain the smile you’re wearing.

It’s the fucking tourist!

“Ms. Local!” he yells out with familiarity and delight dancing in his surprised eyes.

“You know each other?” Shoyo asks.

You and the tourist speak at the same time.

“No.” “Yes.”

Shoyo looks back and forth at you and the tourist with apparent confusion.

“He must be mistaken.” Despite the panic that’s starting to rise in your chest, you’re able to maintain a calm facade. “I don’t know him,” you add confidently because it’s the truth. You don’t know him aside from two facts you got from his last time: he’s a volleyball player from Argentina and he’s a hot scum of a tourist.

You give the tourist the most hospitable smile you can muster, hoping that he’s actually decent enough to get the drift.

He looks at you from head to toe before an amused grin forms on his lips. He rests his elbow on the table and lazily places his cheek on his palm. “She’s right, Shorty pie. I was mistaken. I actually don’t know her too,” the tourist says as he regards you meaningfully.

Shorty pie? Did he just address Shoyo as shorty pie? How snotty! Shoyo is not that short.

“Y/n, this is the great king, I mean, Oikawa-san, I mean uhhhh,” Shoyo turns the tourist and says something in Japanese. You try to get cues as to what they’re talking about but the language is incredibly different. You might’ve found it rude but it was Shoyo who did it. You can’t imagine him saying anything bad about you.

The tourist faces you with a wide smile. “You can call me Tooru, Ms. Local,” he introduces himself.

“Her name is Y/n, Oikawa-san,” Shoyo kindly corrects Tooru, not a drop of suspicion present in his tone.

“Right! Y/n it is.” He continues staring at you with a very smug look on his face that makes you want to kick him out of the diner. But even if you were the owner, you can’t do it without letting Shoyo know why.

You distract yourself and turn your full attention to Shoyo. “So, what’re you boys getting?” you ask cordially.

“Let me ask him, y/n. It’s his treat.” Shoyo faces his annoying company. You softly tap your feet on the floor and refuse to get back to Tooru, hoping that it’ll still be Shoyo who’s going to order for the both of them.

“Y/n, hallooo.”

It’s taking everything in you not to roll your eyes and exhibit a grouchy behavior unacceptable towards a customer. Goddamn it, you can’t even sigh to calm yourself down.

You force yourself to face him and let out a high-pitched “Yes?” paired with a feigned smile.

He chuckles uninhibitedly before he answers. “Actually, I don’t know what to order. I just wanted you to look at me,” he admits without any trace of shame.

You try to laugh your irritation away but it comes out awkward and loud that some of the customers near their table turn their eyes at you.

You clear your throat to shake off the embarrassment. “Since you’re undecided, Sir. We’ll get you our three best sellers which will take no more than 20 minutes to prepare. I’ll be back when it’s ready,” you say all at once. You don’t wait for their response as you turn around and hurry back to the kitchen.

You tell the cook their order and excuse yourself to go to the restroom.

As soon as you close the door, you cover your face with both hands and pour a regret-filled squeal onto your palms.

You certainly have been complaining about life being dull and repetitive. But this is too much of a mayhem for you to handle!

Out of all the strangers you could’ve possibly slept with, it had to be someone Shoyo knows. Fuck! What if the tourist, what’s his name again? You were too busy panicking that you didn’t even catch his name when he said it. It was something like Tori? Taurus? Tooru!

Tooru, the scumbag tourist.

His name is not really that important though. What’s more pressing is the possibility that he might tell Shoyo.

You really like your lively and good-natured friend. You don’t want him to think you’re a lady of loose morals for sleeping around.

Loud knocks on the door pull you back to the reality that you need to get back out there. You can’t stay in the restroom room wishing you can turn back time, even though you do. You wish you just stayed home the night you crossed paths with the tourist.

You take a deep breath and step out.

“What took you so long? Orders are piling up in the kitchen,” your fellow waiter reprimands you.

“Sorry,” you apologize before hurrying to the kitchen. You take the cooked meals and get them to their respective tables.

When the tourist and Shoyo’s order comes in, you collect yourself for a quick second prior to heading back to where they are. Despite dreading each step you take towards them, you manage to get there with an amicable smile.

“Here you go,” you announce as you put down their plates.

Even when you try your best to ignore the tourist by focusing all your attention on Shoyo, you can feel his avid stare boring onto your face. You’re just glad he’s not talking at all, so you don’t have a reason to face him.

“Thanks, y/n!” Shoyo says appreciatively which eases your discomfort a bit from having Tooru ogle at you.

“Anytime,” you respond just as kindly and head back to the kitchen. A huge wave of relief hits you when you’re finally away from their table.

Oikawa follows the sight of your back as you leave. What were the chances he would see you again? You gave him nada after your sexy encounter that night, not even a name. So you both parted ways still as strangers. What’s even more amusing is the fact that you’re friends with Shorty.

The world just couldn’t get any smaller - seeing Shoyo out of pure coincidence on the beach. Then finding you here when you didn’t want to be found.

He turns his attention back at his former opponent and finds Shoyo’s gaze at you as well. The glimmer of fondness is blatant on his eyes as they linger on your back.

“Shoyo,” Oikawa calls out.

The short volleyball player instantly flicks his eyes back to Oikawa, oblivious that he was just gawking at you.

“Do you like her?” Oikawa asks, straight to the point.

A faint blush pops out of his tanned cheeks as his eyes go wide, an instant giveaway that Oikawa hit the bull’s eye.

Shoyo breaks into a flustered smile while he rubs the back of his neck from embarrassment. “Yeah. She’s a good friend,” he states, his eyes shining with less than innocent admiration as he looks back at the direction you disappeared in.

Holy shit. Holy Shit. You fucked Shorty too!

Upon the realization, a chuckle escapes his mouth before he can thwart it. No wonder you came up with that spot on guess before. You got the story from someone who did the same.

A small world indeed.

Shoyo is probably the good fuck you were talking about that night. Looking at the former middle blocker, he certainly didn’t think that Shoyo would have enough experience in the bedroom to be considered a “good fuck.”

Interesting.

“Why don’t you invite her to watch us play tomorrow?” he suggests.

Shoyo’s face brightens up with excitement from his suggestion. “Yeah! I think she’ll want to. I told her that I play volleyball and stuff.”

He leans back on his chair as he grins from Shoyo’s response.

“Should be fun, right?” he asks with hidden deviousness.

—

When Shoyo asked you to watch their game, your understanding by ‘their’ is him and another local he regularly plays with. Not him and the freaking tourist!

If you had known, you would have politely declined.

Now, you’re sitting there on the sands of Copacabana with nothing but foreboding as you watch them start the game with two other players.

You know close to nothing about volleyball. You only came out of curiosity because Shoyo talks about it like it’s his life. Maybe it is. He did come all the way from Japan to a foreign country all on his own.

And so did Tooru.

You’re just starting to wonder if he loves the sport just as much Shoyo does, but you don’t wonder for too long. He gives you the answer with the way he plays.

Knowing that you’ll be watching two grown men playing, you expected them to be show-offs impressing the girl they invited to watch. However, they don’t even spare you a glance after they get a point in.

You don’t take offense in it though. Instead, you find yourself growing envious of them. Their personalities are so different but the look of passion and determination is burning similarly not just on their faces, but on their whole being.

Tooru is still a tricky scum in your eyes. But when he’s playing, he looks larger than life and brimming with pride and dignity. His cocky smirk is still there, but it’s more of an affirmation to himself and Shoyo that they’re doing hell of a good teamwork.

Shoyo, on the other hand, is all smiles and easy going everytime you talk to him. He still is inside the sandy court, but he’s intensely focused and totally lost in the game that sometimes, very briefly, he almost seems scary.

It’s so strange. One second they’re totally immersed and serious, then on the next they’re suddenly grinning and laughing even if they didn’t score a point.

You’d think they were teammates before from how they seem to communicate without really saying anything. But if they were then, Shoyo would have undoubtedly told you about him.

When the game ends, the two of them share victorious smiles. Why wouldn’t they? They did snatch the game. They’re so earnest and driven that you can’t help but be in awe, despite the one of them being real shady.

They both head towards your direction, Shoyo almost running towards you while Tooru striding slowly with pride.

Your attention inevitably goes to the orange ball of energy first. “Were you watching, y/n?” he asks while trying to catch his breath. He must’ve been really absorbed in the game that he didn’t notice you arrive earlier.

“You did great, Shoyo!” you sincerely applaud him as the tourist catches up to where you are.

“You too, uhh, Tooru,” you commend him awkwardly. Until now, you’ve only called him ‘tourist,’ so saying his actual name feels weird.

“I didn’t expect you’d let me toss to you, Oikawa-san,” Shoyo says with the thrill of the game still oozing from him.

“Would be a waste if we don’t try something totally new when the opportunity is there,” Tooru responds just as high-spiritedly, but you feel off about how he calls Shoyo.

“Why do you let him call you such names?” you ask Shoyo even when the tourist is right beside him.

Shoyo just laughs it off, obviously not minding the rude nicknames. “It’s actually comforting, y/n. It reminds me of home,” he says with a nostalgic smile that makes you feel bad about his situation. He misses home so much that even rude nicknames are welcome because it brings him closer to it.

“Should I call you ‘Shorty’ too?” you sincerely ask but he only grimaces. Meanwhile, Tooru laughs to his heart’s content.

“Sorry! I thought you’d like it.”

“Not from you, y/n,” Shoyo sulks a little, but buries the misunderstanding immediately. “Anyways, should I walk you home tonight?”

You appreciate the thought. It has been a while since you had the pleasure of his company.

“Yea, please do.”

“Can I come?” the tourist butts in, reminding you that he’s also there.

“Aren’t your teammates waiting for you?” you ask, subtly shooing him away. You saw the two men he was talking to earlier. Judging from the language they spoke, which was undoubtedly Spanish, and their athletic build, you concluded they were his teammates.

“Nope. I asked them to go ahead,” he shrugs and flashes you that too-charming smile he has.

“Oh, why?” you ask amicably to hide your distrust of him.

“It’s my last night here and I thought, why not make friends with a local?”

You don’t buy it, but it would seem strange to Shoyo if you blatantly refuse Tooru. In Shoyo’s eyes, you and Tooru haven’t met before. It would be suspicious for you to be so wary of him when he’s been ‘nice’ when Shoyo’s around.

So you agree. You won’t see him anymore after tonight anyways. A walk home won’t do any harm.

When you reach your place, only then it dawns on you that if you invite Shoyo inside, you’d have to offer the same invitation to the tourist out of common courtesy. You really want to let Shoyo in, but if they come in pairs, you’d rather invite your friend another night.

Your turn around and what awaits you is Shoyo’s hopeful, hazel orbs.

Meu Deus, how can you refuse him when he’s looking at you like that?

You go to the kitchen to grab one glass of water for each of the two men in your living room.

You tell yourself that everything’s all good and harmless when you invited them in. If it was Tooru only, it would’ve been a different story. You wouldn’t have even allowed him to walk you home.

But since Shoyo is there, you feel somewhat safe. The tourist might be douchey but surely he won’t do anything with your tangerine friend around. They won’t stay long anyways, so it should be fine.

You close your fridge when you hear Shoyo’s familiar footsteps.

“Y/n?” He stops briefly on his tracks when you turn to him.

“Yeah?” you respond before he continues making his way to you. “What’s wrong?”

He’s only a step away when his profile reveals a somber expression he’s never shown you before. “Did you really do it with Oikawa-san?”

You feel the rapid increase of your heartbeat from his question. Did Tooru tell him about it while you were in the kitchen? To think that you were starting to believe that the tourist is not as bad as you thought since he’s been amenable the whole night. He proves you wrong before you actually believe that idea.

Now you have no choice but to admit it to Shoyo because you don’t have the heart to lie to him.

“It’s okay, y/n. He told me he tricked you into it,” he tells you with a sad yet understanding look on his face.

“Are you… disappointed at me?” you ask guiltily.

He shakes his head instantly. “No, but...” He averts his eyes downwards, dejection clear and evident on them. “We’re not going to do it anymore, aren’t we?” His tone drops woefully with his assumption.

Oh goodness, he’s so adorable. It’s like one of his favorite things was taken away from him. You would’ve dragged him in your room right now to prove him wrong if it isn’t for your other visitor in the living room.

Instead, you grab his hand and pull him closer to you as you lean back on the counter. You cup his chin to raise his gaze back to you.

“I missed you,” you tell him rather than directly answering his question. You move your hand from his chin to his cheek before you claim his lips. Like an automatic response, he envelops his hands around your waist.

He really is the sun, not only bringing rays of joy to you, but also heats you up all the way to sinful madness.

His hands drop down your behind and gropes them to draw you towards his body, letting you know how excited he’s getting just from kissing and holding you.

You still haven’t had your fill of his lips when he lets go of yours. “Did you feel good with him, y/n?” he asks, centimeters away from your mouth.

You pull back slightly from surprise. “Why are you asking that?” You try to decipher what he’s thinking but you can only see his need for you as you stare at him.

“I want to know how to make you feel better,” he says as an ounce of insecurity bares itself for you to see. You drape your hand from his neck down to his chest, caressing the broadness of it. “You already know how to make me feel good, Shoyo,” you say as you offer him a gentle smile.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he persists.

You sigh when you realize that he’s not going to let this go unless you answer him. “I don’t like him, but yeaa... it felt good,” you look away as soon as you admit it. You don’t know how he’ll react, but you know that wouldn’t be able to take it if he looks at you with disappointment or disgust.

To your surprise, he pulls you close again and rests his cheek against yours. He asks something too softly -- something you wouldn’t hear had he not been standing so close. “Can I watch him do it?”

You flinch away from his hold with eyes wide from the appalling question. “What?!”

Shoyo becomes alarmed at your reaction and completely releases you. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine!”

He waves hands mid-air, panicking at how aghast you are from what he said. “We just thought it would feel good for you. Ahhhh.” He rubs his face with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m getting way ahead of myself,” he apologizes with a regretful look.

Tooru must have told him prior to tonight. If they talked about you to that extent, the little time they had in your living room wouldn’t have been enough. Shoyo knew even while they were playing and he didn’t treat you differently.

Meanwhile, that tourist was acting all goody-goody because he’d already told your friend that you two fucked. You only become more annoyed when you realize that the idea couldn’t have possibly come from your adored friend.

You squint at Shoyo as you ask him. “He put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Shoyo looks up, genuinely unsure how to answer you. “Uhh. He said I could learn a thing or two from him.”

You laugh dryly from the lack of words that could describe your vexation towards Tooru. The audacity of that fucking tourist! How dare he think that he’s any better than Shoyo. How dare he make Shoyo believe that he’s the lesser sex partner.

“Y/n?” Shoyo must have noticed your silent fury because he looks concerned when he returns his gaze to you.

You give him a too-sweet grin despite the exasperation boiling in your chest. “You know what? He can join, but he’ll be the one watching.”

You drag Shoyo back to the living room, ignoring him as he utters words of disbelief that you’re too mad to understand.

When you meet Tooru’s gaze, he gives you a knowing smile which you return with a resentful one.

“Shoyo, can you go to my bedroom first? We’ll be there soon,” you say while you keep your eyes trained on Tooru.

“Can’t I know what you’re going to talk about?” Shoyo sounds almost sulking, but you don’t deter. You turn to him with a pout of your own.

“I promise we’ll be there soon, mkay?” You stroke his hand which you’re still holding.

Shoyo nods and obediently heads inside your room.

You march to Tooru and yank his collar. Despite being surprised by your action, he looks pleased with your aggressiveness.

“Congratulations, Tourist. You successfully earned yourself a threesome,” you spit out, but he only smiles with satisfaction as you just consented to what he’s probably going for. “Now listen to me and listen well. You will be the one doing the watching. You will remain seated while you watch Shoyo fuck me. You don’t get to join unless I let you. Do whatever you want - jack off, drool, have a seizure, I don’t give a shit. But if you make yourself cum, you don’t get to touch me. Got that?”

He only blinks at your litany of rules, but you trust him to be smart enough to get that in one go. Quickly enough, he lets out a short whistle as he reiterates your rules in just one sentence.

“Basically, no touching and no cumming from me, right?” he states with a pleased grin that makes you want to punch his pretty face.

But you have better plans, so you let him go and join Shoyo in the bedroom. You don’t have to tell Tooru to follow. He stands up on his own and heads for the bedroom a few steps behind you.

When you get in your room, you find Shoyo sitting at the edge of your bed. He looks so worried, looking at his feet while fiddling with his hands. You feel bad that you kind left him out in the dark because you’re too pissed at the tourist’s presumptuousness.

You sit beside Shoyo and grab his hand. He eyes you fretfully, obviously addled at what’s going to happen next. Rather than explaining, you cup his cheek and moor your mouth to his. You straddle him while your other hand clutches his hair. His palms immediately get underneath your shirt, skimming the bare skin of your sides while your lips ravage one another.

Shoyo suddenly pulls back, his confusion now mixed with lust as he looks up at you. “What about Oikawa-san?” he huffs.

“Don’t mind him,” you mutter on his lips as you descend on them once again.

Shoyo doesn’t ask further, discarding his qualms earlier and heeding your instruction like the good guy he is. He rids you of the top you’re wearing, his palm immediately covering the softness of your clad breast while his mouth seeks the weak spot on your neck. When he does find it, you reward him by pressing your groin against his.

You can’t help but laugh a little at how his arousal is already poking beneath his shorts. “You’re already hard, Shoyo.”

He doesn’t respond and proceeds to unclasp your bra that’s preventing him from feeling your bare breasts.

Like he always does, he takes a moment to revel at your half nakedness like it’s the first time he’s seeing you as such. And like every time he does it, he never fails to make you feel like you a marvel to look at.

“So pretty,” he murmurs to himself.

He plants fervid kisses on your chest until his mouth captures a perk bud. The action causes you to grind on his lap, attending to the ache that’s settling in your groin.

You itch to roam your hands on his body and groans with disappointment that it isn’t his skin you’re touching. He hears it and does you a favor by quickly discarding his muscle tee.

“Shoyo,” you whisper with brewing desire as your hands travel from his neck down to his chest.

“Yes?” he asks, completely bewitched even when you’re only half naked.

“I really missed you.”

You feel his erection grow even more while his face shines with adulation from your statement. He grips both cheeks of your ass and takes it upon himself to roll your hips again on his bulge.

“I missed you too, y/n,” he says before resuming what his mouth was doing earlier: devotedly twirling his tongue around one hardened bud while his fingers fiddle with the other. With already several visits from him after work hours, he’s well familiar with how you want to be had.

He demonstrates so by gently tugging your nipples with his teeth and fingers, making you cry out from the slight pang that heightened your craving for more.

You’re reminded that someone else is in the room when your wooden chair creaks audibly for you to hear. Shoyo is doing such a great job of taking you to a scandalous place far away from your mundane room that you almost forget that Tooru is there.

You take one quick look at the pretty guy sitting on your chair. He’s doing as he’s told and is watching intently, particularly at where Shoyo’s mouth is.

As much as you want to totally lose yourself in the sensation of Shoyo’s hands and mouth, you have to show Tooru what he missed on that one night of encounter.

You clutch Shoyo’s hair to pull him away from your body, earning yourself a baffled Shoyo when you get off his lap. You just smile reassuringly at him as you get on your knees. You try to lug his shorts down but fails as he remains seated, totally beguiled at the sight of you kneeling down for him.

You look up to him doe-eyed as you ask him, “Won’t you help me a little here, Shoyo?”

He snaps out of his daze from your question. “Ah! Yes, yes. Sorry.” He does the work for you and hurriedly pulls his shorts and undergarments down.

You squirm on your knees at the sight of his swollen cock. It’s been a while since you did it with him that you find yourself more than eager to have him inside you again; whether in your mouth or somewhere further down, you can’t decide.

Once again, the tourist distracts you when he lets out a whistle. “Damn. Who knew?”

You can’t help but agree with him. When you first saw Shoyo’s size, you were shocked as well. He, however, doesn’t get what Tooru is talking about. He eyes Tooru worriedly as he asks confusedly, “What?”

Tooru doesn’t answer Shoyo and just grins at him, so he turns to you instead. “What’s he talking about, y/n?”

You respond by gripping the base of his cock and taking him slowly in your mouth. You hear him hiss as his hand grabs the back of your head.

“Ahhh. So warm.”

You look at him and find him with lips parted and eyes shut as he relishes the way you gradually swallow his size.

Once your lips reach the hilt of his shaft, you drag your lips back up and release his cock. Instead of sucking it again, you tease him by flicking your tongue on his tip, twirling the hot, moist muscle around it whenever you feel like it.

Shoyo clutches your hair, oblivious to the strength he put behind it as he unknowingly forces you to meet his pleading eyes.

“Suck it again please,” he asks nicely despite his tight grip on your hair.

You smile tenderly at him, tracing the length of his cock with your tongue before engulfing it once again with your mouth. As you descend on him, you lock eyes with Tooru, making sure that he’s watching how devoutly you’re tending to Shoyo’s desires.

Satisfaction kicks in when you notice the undeniable bulge on his shorts as he keeps his eyes on you and Shoyo. This is supposed to be a show for him, but you feel yourself getting wetter from Shoyo’s whines and how Tooru is starting to palm his erection above the fabric of his shorts.

Shoyo takes hold of your attention again when he starts thrusting against your mouth, causing you to whimper on his dick. You squeeze his thighs to signal him to slow down. He stops completely, letting you withdraw away so you can breathe.

He opens his eyes and trails his hand from the back of your head to your cheek. “Sorry, y/n. It’s starting to feel really good,” he explains apologetically.

You offer him a delicate smile right before you descend your mouth on the whole of his cock in one swift motion, the tip of his cock tickling the back of your throat.

“ Ah! ” He throws his head back from the sudden movement.

“Shit,” you hear the man seated across the foot of the bed curse. You turn your eyes on him and witness how he frees his bulge from his shorts. He fists it slowly, matching the bob of your head on Shoyo’s dick. You quicken your pace and his hand mirrors it as well.

You unzip your shorts, unable to help yourself. Without bothering to remove them, you slip your hands in and touch the moistness of your slit. You moan at Shoyo’s cock as you feel the pads of your fingers on your slick arousal.

“Stop touching yourself, y/n. I’ll do it with my mouth later. Make me feel good first.” Uncontained desire is swimming on Shoyo’s orbs as he stares at you while his mouth pants with need.

You pull out your hand and plant it on the side of his thigh as you suck faster, hoping that he’ll cum soon so his tongue can replace what your fingers were doing.

Your pussy is throbbing so hard from how he’s learning so well. He pulled the same card you did the first time you sucked him off and it’s turning you on even more that you have to clench your thighs together just so you can ease your arousal a little bit.

“Let me do it,” you hear Tooru’s breathy suggestion. You’re not surprised that he noticed. After all, watching is all he’s allowed to do.

Shoyo gently pulls your head back as he asks, “Do you want him to?”

With his dick still stuffed in your mouth, you shake your head to answer ‘no.’ You want to alleviate the delicious tension between your legs, but you want Tooru to remain where he’s seated for a while more.

“I can do it well, y/n. I’ll trace my tongue on your cunt the way my fingers did on that beach. Let me taste you. I’ll get you even wetter with my mouth.”

You grip Shoyo’s thighs as you moan on his dick from Tooru’s lewd words. You didn’t want him to touch you yet, but the visceral imagery he provided you is making your lubricious needs unbearable.

You look at Tooru as you tell him with a wavering voice, “Come here.”

“Finally,” he says as he tucks his rigid member back in his shorts and rushes to where you are.

Shoyo helps you stand up and positions your back against the headboard of your bed. Meanwhile, you feel Oikawa’s hands grasp the seams of your shorts.

You’ve already unzipped it earlier so all he needs to do is pull it down, which he easily does as you lift your hips up for him.

“Please don’t forget I’m here, y/n,” Shoyo reminds you with a sullen tone.

Oikawa spreads your legs while you weakly grab Shoyo’s dick. You pump him a few times before taking him again in your mouth. At the same time, Tooru gives your already moist slit a well drawn out lick.

Your groan vibrates on Shoyo’s cock as your thighs involuntarily press together. Strong hands placed on both thighs prevent them from doing so as Tooru swirls his tongue on your throbbing clit.

The delicious strokes of his tongue lapping up your juices are incredibly distracting, making you a drooling mess on Shoyo’s cock. You grip his shaft to regain some control as you start quickening the bob of your head, your fingers hitting your lips as you take him fast and deep.

Tooru distracts you even further when he roughly pushes two fingers in without any warning. “Oh my, would you look at that?” He laughs right between your legs. “My two fingers easily got in,” he says and starts languidly pulling them in and out of you.

You want to say something but Shoyo beats you to it. “Please don’t stop, y/n. I’m about to-uugghh .”

He starts taking shallow breaths while he keeps his hazy eyes on you. “Can I cum in your… in your mouth?” he asks as he starts staggering his hips faster than the bob of your head.

You give him a small nod, trying your very best to continue sucking him even though Tooru’s fingers are sending you to another kind of delirium.

Shoyo’s moans permeate the air as his orgasm erupts in your right in your mouth. “ Ahh, ahhhh, y/n, am cumming ,” he says before his hand goes to the back of your head and shoves his length at your throat, forcing you to swallow the entirety of his load.

“Holy shit,” you hear Tooru say as he stills his fingers inside you.

Shoyo eases his grip on your hair as he releases a satisfied huff. Your jaw feels relief as you remove your mouth off his member.

He takes his seat at the bed as he steadies himself again.

“I didn’t think you’d be one to swallow.” You turn to Tooru and see him no longer situated in front of your crotch.

He stands up and takes off all his clothes without any shame. You stare at his glorious nakedness, acknowledging that the last time’s encounter did not allow you any of the view he’s currently gracing you with.

His face isn’t the only pretty thing about him, it’s everything. And you can tell he knows it with how proud his strides are as he makes his way beside you.

Your dazed eyes follow him as he rests his back on the headboard.

“This is when you sit on my cock, y/n,” he says with that fraudulent smile of his. He’s so damn infuriating, yet, you can’t deny that you want to do exactly as he said. His tongue on your dripping pussy did nothing but fan the flickers of arousal in your stomach, so even if you still despise him, you don’t mind being fucked by him. You already know he’s not going to disappoint anyway.

You climb on top of him with an irritated expression and a soaked cunt that coats the tip of his member. “Please stop talking. Don’t make me hate myself for being horny over you,” you state almost resignedly. Levity spreads across his gorgeous face as a laugh starts to rumble from his throat.

“You’re so funny, y/n! I knew I made the right choice to fuck you that night,” he says with mirthful smile. You ignore him completely, tuning out his fatuousness as you align your entrance to his cock that’s been poking at you.

You anchor yourself with one hand on his shoulder while your other seizes his member for you to descend on.

“Oh no no no~” He grips your hips and stops you. “Why are you in a hurry? We have all night, don’t we?” He asks as he trails his fingers on the sides of your hip, effectively heightening your wanton desire to be stuffed by him.

You shake your head ferociously as you remember how intense he teased you and edged you on the beach. “None of that teasing crap anymore,” you say as an infuriated plea.

“Hmmm, “ he hums as he thinks about your belligerent request. “Kiss me first,” he says in a light tone but you hear the smidge of authority behind it. You gladly oblige as you hurriedly reach for his mouth.

Replicating what he did with his fingers, he fastens his grasp on your hips and rams you down on his cock. Your moan falls on his mouth mixed with his own. He pulls away from your lips, a string of translucent liquid connecting his to yours.

“Ahh, Ms. Local. You look so hot with that lewd expression on your face,” he says, his eyes hazy with his own dark, sinful yet alluring desires. “Since you wanted to be fucked so bad, why don’t you move for us?” he asks before he goes for that exact spot on your neck that makes you weak.

You start grinding against him, taking your time to revel at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your dewy insides. He startles your slow rhythm when you feel the sharp sting of his palm on one ass cheek.

You yelp out from the sudden pang burning on your skin. “Seriously, y/n? That’s really all you got?” he taunts while his hand on the other cheek caresses it, a soft warning that the same slap is about to hit it too.

Fuck. What even gave you the idea that you can take charge of this asshole? You kinda feel stupid now from your naivety and from how he’s making you lose yourself from the painful delight he just inflicted on you.

“Oikawa-san! Why are you hitting her?” Shoyo voices out his concern which makes Tooru’s hand still from its circular caresses over it.

Tooru weaves his head to the side to look at Shoyo while you slouch and rest your head on Tooru’s shoulders.

“You don’t?” he asks inquisitively to the other naked man on your bed.

“Why would I do that? I don’t want to hurt her,” Shoyo responds out of genuine concern that it makes your heart melt despite being impaled with the cock of another guy.

Tooru chuckles at his innocence before inviting him, “Sit beside us and watch, Shoyo.”

You feel the shift of the cushion beside you, indicating that Shoyo had followed Tooru’s suggestion.

“Ready to show your precious Shoyo how perverted you are?” Tooru whispers to you, delivering a wet stripe on your ear.

You struggle to hide your face on his shoulders as you answer him with a quivering “no.” The spank that follows is harder than the previous one, forcing you to throw your head back as you wobble from the pain.

“See, Shoyo-kun?” Tooru turns to your friend, treating you like an educational material for him to learn from. Meanwhile, the tangerine remains silent and eyes you with awe from discovering this side of you that even you weren’t aware of.

Your mouth gapes open while you try to think of something to explain yourself to Shoyo as you meet his gaze. Tooru makes use of the opportunity and sticks in his fingers inside your mouth.

You turn your attention to Tooru, a bunch of incoherent words coming from how he’s violating your wet cavern with his digits. Your plan to defend yourself to Shoyo is discarded when Tooru moves your hips against him with just one hand.

You go with the rhythm he’s setting while he thrusts his fingers inside your mouth.

“Hhhrrrmmm ,” you moan disorderly on his slender digits, making its owner chuckle with grisly amusement.

“She likes it,” Shoyo comments like he’s figured out what Tooru was talking about.

“Damn right she does.” Tooru presses his pads firmly on your tongue, coercing you to open your mouth wider. Then he trails his digits down, leaving your tongue lolling out of your mouth while his drenched fingers turn their attention to one nipple. To reinforce his point further, he pinches it, eliciting a pained groan from you as you shut your eyes.

“Wanna try for yourself, Shoyo-kun?” Tooru asks as he lays his grip back on your butt.

With your eyes closed, you don’t see how he reacts. You just feel him settle himself kneeling behind you and a different set of thicker fingers replace Tooru’s.

“Like this?” You can tell that it’s not you Shoyo’s talking to with how he’s obstructing your mouth from forming anything comprehensible. You feel the other set of digits find their way on your tits, making use of the slick that Tooru gathered from your mouth and fiddle with it.

“Do you feel good like this, y/n?”

You shudder from the feel of Shoyo’s lips on your ears. As always, he never fails to ask for validation if he’s making you feel good enough. At the same time, Tooru starts picking up the pace of how he’s rolling your hips against him, rendering you unable to respond to Shoyo’s question.

You can only interchange moans and whines from the different sources of pleasure swiftly leading you to grasp the edges of your climax.

Shoyo continues adoring you with his fingers at work and his mouth trailing zealous kisses from the back of your ear to the column of your neck. You feel his cock raging once again as it rubs on your ass while Tooru guides your pelvis to grind on him.

“Shoyoeeehhmmmm .”

He removes his fingers off your mouth and plays with your other nipple that’s been craving for attention. His tongue takes the place of his fingers as he slides it inside your mouth while he kneads your supple mounds. He starts grinding on your back as well, taking whatever pleasure he can get from the friction.

“Don’t forget I’m here too,” Tooru harshly reminds you of his presence when he puts a thumb over your clit and rubs the bud in brutal circles.

You tear your mouth away from Shoyo’s to cry out from the added stimulation that builds on to the pile of pleasure that’s about to explode.

Then, Tooru cuts all those coming from him, lets go of your hips and takes his thumb off your clit.

Even though Shoyo’s doing a great job of making feel good, it only intensifies your need for a release, not provide it.

“Why did you stop?” you mewl with the vehement need for him to make you cum.

“We’ve played this game before, can’t you tell?” he taunts aggravatingly because you remember it too well - how he made a complete mess out of you in public just to make you beg for him. You try to defy him by gyrating on your own, but the firmness of his hands lets you stay in place.

You groan with defeat. “Do you want me to beg again?”

He nods agreeably. “Beg for Shoyo to fuck you instead.”

You're taken aback by his request. You’ve never actually begged Shoyo the way you pleaded for Tooru because Shoyo always makes sure he gives you the pleasure you seek by asking nicely.

“Y/n, you don’t have to,” your friend counters his old rival’s order. Tooru slams a palm on your ass again before pushing his thumb on your clit. “Beg for him or this will go on for a while,” he warns.

You lean your head back on Shoyo’s shoulder as you look at him with lustful urgency. “Shoyo, please fuck me,” you beg with frustration. “Let me get a condom,” Shoyo says, and although you appreciate the thought, you halt him before he can leave the bed.

“I need you now. I need your cock inside me. Make me cum with it. Please …”

You feel his arousal pulsate at your back from your plea. Tooru lets go of his hold on you while Shoyo pulls you away to get you on top of him instead. Shoyo’s girth is thicker than the tourist’s so when he prods your entrance, you hiss at the additional stretch he’s giving you.

“You okay?” Shoyo utters caringly as he sweeps the strands of hair stuck on your face. You give him a frail nod as your pussy tries to accommodate his girth. When he bottoms out, you don’t give yourself time to adjust and hastily chase for the gratification Tooru denied you of.

Shoyo grabs you to lie right on his chest as you bounce rigorously on his cock.

“Shooyooooo, haaaa . I’m gonna--”

A spank lands on one butt cheek - a rough, sharp hit that instigates tears to prickle on the corner of your eyes from the sting, the very same hit that topples you over the edge of ecstasy. When your body begins thrashing on top of him, he continues moving for you, letting you ride the apex of your orgasm to its maximum.

“Y/n, uughhh, you’re clenching on me. Can I keep moving?”

He asks while rocking your hips to keep them moving. You want to tell him to wait for a good while, give you a minute for a break, but you’re too breathless to speak.

Tooru answers for you though. “Yes, Shoyo-kun. Keep moving, just move a bit slower.”

Damn. Will he ever say anything that you actually agree on? You’re just thankful that at least he made Shoyo slow down. He grabs your waist and hoists you up from Shoyo’s chest. “How’s it feel to be spanked by your dear friend, y/n?”

You’re a bit spent from your orgasm, but he’s overbearing that you just had to say something. “You’re a scumbag,” you puff angrily.

“I know,” he smiles sweetly before capturing your mouth while he leads your hand to his stiff member. He covers your hand with his and basically uses it to jack himself off.

“You could’ve had this taken care of earlier,” you whisper. He could’ve just continued fucking you until he got off, but for some reason, he made you do it with Shoyo.

“I have other things in mind.”

You’re about to ask what but Shoyo suddenly hits a spot that makes you grab onto Tooru for support. “Fuuuck,” you moan while looking at Shoyo helplessly. You just came, but his slow plunges are quickly reviving your crude desires.

He lets his hands mendear all over your body, worshipping every nook, every curve he can lay his hands on given how he’s lying beneath you. Tooru lets you go to let you fall back onto Shoyo’s embrace.

Shoyo stops moving you and does the work himself, plunging his thick cock inside you faster - a familiar feeling that always gets you reeling from his intensity.

What isn’t familiar is the prodding of something on an opening that’s never been touched. You harshly snap your gaze to Tooru to check what the hell he’s doing this time. When your eyes make contact with each other, he waves at you while his other hand rests on your ass.

“This will be awesome, I swear,” he assures you with no hint of sincerity. You see him spit on your ass before inserting one finger in your rear.

It’s totally new to you, a strange sensation to be penetrated in that particular entrance. But Shoyo’s thrusts are too good of a distraction that it weirdly adds to the sensation he’s providing.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re feeling good,” Shoyo says with his stare boring on your face.

Goddamn. One who reveres you and one who toys with you, how will this night end for you? Your thoughts get all frenzied up when you feel him add another finger in.

“It feels weird, Tooru! One is enough,” you tell him even with your attention all on Shoyo and the complete adoration he has on his face.

“Okiee,” Tooru says amiably, then inserts a third digit in your tightening hole. “There, one more just like you said,” he announces proudly as he slowly drives three fingers inside your ass.

Your breathing starts to get uneven from the foreign feeling. “Shoyo, I feel weird,” you turn to him.

“Should I ask him to stop?” he asks as he cups your face with sympathy.

“Yeaah aaaaaaaaahhhhhh, ohh shit.” A different kind of pleasure assaults you when Tooru starts pumping his digits unforgivingly.

Shoyo interprets your moan as discomfort as he tells Tooru to stop. “I think she’s in pain, Oikawa-san.”

Tooru acknowledges Shoyo’s statement and stops. “Don’t move too, Shorty.” Shoyo immediately complies but asks, “Why?”

You get the answer when something bigger and thicker than his fingers penetrate your back entrance.

Oikawa winces at the first two inches he sinks in you. You’re so fucking tight that he can surmise it’s your first time to be taken in this hole. Shit, it’s already clamping on him despite not being even halfway in.

He nudges further, managing to shove in almost his whole length but that’s when you get alarmed. “Tooru, no more, please,” you plead with discomfort gleaming clearly on your features.

“Shoyo, move again.” He ignores you, but if you still don’t relax after this, he’ll pull out. Fuck. Shorty better does the trick. He’s been waiting for this. That’s why he’s been holding back and letting you and Shoyo have all the fun.

Fortunately, you do loosen up as Shoyo starts to rock himself inside you again. “I-I’m.. haaa,” you whine with pleasure more than pain.

Hell yeah. It would’ve been a waste if he doesn’t get to experience your ass. He was tempted to play with it that night on the beach, but the location did not permit him to do all the things he wanted to do to you, including this.

But no matter, he has the chance now, even better, Shorty pie is here to help him soothe you.

His hands wander on your chest, groping their softness before they travel down to the sides of your waist, then to your hips. Then, he rams his remaining length inside your tight gummy walls.

He can almost hear your throat scratch from the loud scream that came from it. “What did you do, Oikawa-san?!”

Tooru wipes a sweat from his forehead as he answers. “Relax, I just stuck my cock in her butt that’s all.”

“What?! No wonder she’s feeling weird. Why did you even do that?”

He grins at Shoyo’s lack of experience for these things, and also at you who seem to think that Shoyo knows how to make you feel good. To be fair, Shorty is very well familiar with your body and knows how you want to be held and to be fucked.

But nothing more than that. Shoyo obviously did not push for anything more than what you told and showed him.

Lucky for both of you, he’s there to expand your horizons.

“Yes, Shoyo. You can fuck someone in the ass,” he enlightens the ginger as he starts shoving his cock in and out to tend to his own needs.

“How does it feel, y/n?” he asks you. You turn your head back to him with that hateful yet intoxicated look in your eyes and he already knows that your ass will be for him to wreck tonight.

“I d-don’t like- mmmm -it,” you protest with a frail voice, but Tooru doesn’t bother to stop. Rather, he speeds up.

It’s definitely strange for you, being stuffed by two men whose thrusts are distinct from the other. You’d hear and feel the slap of skin to skin contact when Shoyo buries himself inside you, but when he pulls back it’s followed by Tooru fully sinking himself in your ass.

It’s absurd and absolutely lecherous, yet it feels fucking incredible. They’re stretching both holes while you can do nothing but grasp at Shoyo’s chest as you hear their groans and mewls taint your room.

“Do you really not like it?” Shoyo whispers for only you to hear.

The genuine care in his eyes makes you tell him the truth. “It feels,” you bite your lip when Tooru’s moans become louder as he pounds your ass faster. “G-good, Shoyo. Feels s-so good,” you somehow manage to finish speaking despite your head starting to get clouded from frenzy.

Hinata’s never felt anything like this before either. He can feel Oikawa inside you with that flimsy muscle that separates your two holes. Your little pussy feels more snug against him, swallowing his dick tighter for him to revel on.

But the look on your face tells him that this feels way more intense for you than for him. Your pupils are blown out, your cheeks are flushed, and you’re almost drooling at his chest while you claw on him. It’s so sexy -- the sexiest expression he’s ever seen from you. He can cum just from this, but he can’t help but wonder.

“Oikawa-san. I want to see,” he stops moving altogether when he tells the setter.

You widen your eyes at him. You probably don’t like his idea, but he can only apologize for his curiosity is getting the best of him.

He pulls out from you and watches Oikawa grab you to rest on his chest. Oikawa leans against your headboard and spreads your legs to indulge Hinata the view he requested.

“Here you go, Shorty-pie. I’ll slow down for you,” Oikawa says.

Hinata’s attention is all on your ass being spread out by Oikawa’s dick. It’s so obscene. He never imagined you could be fucked there. If he knew, he would have tried it himself.

“Shoyo, don’t look at me,” you plead.

His eyes shoot up to your embarrassed face, not understanding why. You look fantastic like this: sprawled out for him to see everything. our rear being defiled, your pussy dripping and gaping at nothing, your body glistening with sweat, and that erotic expression you have.

“Uhhhh, ” you shut your eyes when Oikawa starts toying with both your boobs as he continues thrusting at you.

“Don’t be so stingy, y/n. Shoyo wants to see you like this,” then he turns to Hinata. “Isn’t she so slutty, Shoyo-kun?”

“I’m not-”

A slap on your clit stops you from finishing your sentence. Your cunt starts clenching on its own from the sting. “Fuck, y/n. Even your ass is throbbing from that. You really like being hurt, don’t you?”

He says all that while his middle finger rubs circles on your hard nub. God, your mind is in ruin from this slow, venereal torture Tooru is subjecting you to.

“I d-don’t,” you pant heavily from the heavy ache in the pit of your stomach.

Another slap hits your cunt, ripping a shrill whine from you, followed by a slew of whimpers when his fingers fondle with your clit again. “What’s that again?” Oikawa hums on your neck.

“I’m a slut! I’m a slutty girl, so please. Please don’t stop again,” you admit defeatedly, overwhelmed by the intense craving to be fucked properly.

“See, Shoyo-kun? Your good friend over here is a pervert who has a talent for begging.”

You look at Shoyo, ready for the scandalized and disgusted look on his face. But what you see is mesmerized hunger with his eyes on your body.

“I want to fuck her ass too, Oikawa-san.”

Tooru takes out his dick as Shoyo requested. “Go ahead, Shorty.”

Shoyo grips your knees and pushes them back a little before he probes your entrance. Oikawa tilts your face to his and engages you with a messy kiss where he darts his tongue inside your mouth right off the bat.

Then he puts his hands back to work, one on your tit and the other on your pussy, distracting you from the pain of Shoyo’s size penetrating your other entrance.

“It’s so big,” you whimper on Tooru’s mouth, which makes him stop all his ministrations and retreat a bit. “Geez, y/n. Are you trying to insult me?”

“N-no, it’s just uughhh.” You feel the whole of Shoyo’s length inside your rear end.

“Does it feel good, y/n?” he asks even though he’s already moving in and out of you with less sympathy than he used to have as he doesn’t let you adjust to him. And when you’re finally used to his girth, he pulls out completely and hammers it inside your sopping pussy.

He thrusts a few times then gets back to your ass again. He does this several times, the pleasure barely setting in on one hole, then proceeds to fucking the other before it feels too good for you.

“Shit, Shoyo. That’s fucking hot. Our y/n here loves it. Look at her.” Just as he’s ogling at you, you watch him as well. He’s completely lost in it, his eyes trained on where your bodies are connected, not aware that he’s driving you mad with the way he’s abusing two holes interchangeably.

“Shoyo…”

“What?” His voice is gruff as his alternating thrusts are getting faster, making you squirm on Oikawa’s chest for you can’t decide what you want to tell him. You don’t know if you want Shoyo to fuck your cunt or your rear.

You’d hate to admit it, especially with Tooru holding you captive in his hold, but you want both caverns stuffed to the brim.

“Can you choose one? I want to fuck her too, Shorty,” Tooru’s voice is laced with need which wasn’t there earlier. Finally, you agree with him on something. It pops off Shoyo’s enthralled selfish state of gratifying his pleasure alone.

“My bad,” Shoyo mutters before slotting his cock deep inside your pussy, choosing it for him to ravage on, which leaves your behind for Tooru.

When you get what you’ve been craving for, it’s mind-shattering. You’ve been edged non-stop that the feeling of being pummeled by Tooru’s and Shoyo’s cock shatters any slew of dignity and shame you had. Your head is filled with nothing but their dicks battering your insides with an uncoordinated, wild rhythm.

“Yesssss ahhh. ”

Tooru’s chest vibrates from his low laughter as he asks, “Does my cock feel good in this hole of yours?”

Shoyo spreads your cheeks apart, increasing the effect of Tooru’s words as he glides in easier and faster from Shoyo’s action.

“Yes! Please, keep fucking my ass, Tooru. Oh god, fuck. Shoyo, you’re hitting so deep, I - haaaa. ” Oikawa starts sucking a sensitive spot on your shoulder while Shoyo leans down inches from your mouth.

“Can you stick your tongue out, y/n?”

You don’t ask anymore, you just do it. You poke your tongue out as Shoyo requested. He does the same to play with yours, his moist, warm muscle clashing and colliding over yours.

Shoyo is different from usual and so are you. You feel so perverted, but you’re relishing every second, every thrust by both dicks.

“‘ m genna cuuhhmmm,” you slur.

Shoyo retrieves his tongue, leaving yours hanging out of your mouth. “I can’t believe you’re this slutty, y/n.”

You lose it. Shoyo’s crude words make you convulse on top of Tooru as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. You didn’t expect such treatment from Shoyo. You also didn’t expect you’d cum because of it.

You try to arch your back but Tooru is quick to grab one wrist while his arm snakes around your waist to prevent you from doing so. You’re left with no choice but to stay a whimpering, writhing mess in between two men who continue to slide in and out of you while you reel from your second climax.

With your one free hand, you wearily reach for Shoyo’s wrist. “Let me rest.” Your body is beginning to feel overwhelmed from the consuming pleasure they’re assaulting you with.

“Ehhh? That’s boring. Wanna try something fun, Shoyo?” You don’t miss the naughty suggestive tone of Tooru, but you’re too out of it to react.

Shoyo disregards your frail request and nods eagerly at the man behind you. With Shoyo’s approval, Tooru slips his cock out of your ass and pushes it into your pussy that’s already occupied by Shoyo.

“GAAAAAAAAAHH!!” You struggle again to break free from Tooru’s embrace but combined with your fatigue and his strength, it turns out futile. The stretch is atrocious. It’s like you’re being split open to no end.

“Too tight,” Shoyo bites his lip with distress.

“Spit on her cunt,” Tooru quickly provides a solution which Shoyo does without thinking twice, gathering drool in his mouth then barbarically spitting on your pussy.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to break,” you voice out to no one, hoping that one of them takes mercy on you.

Tooru growls right on your ear. “Now won’t that be interesting?”

Then he rams his dick inside you, successfully joining Shoyo’s.

Another scream rips out of you as the two of them try to fit inside your already wrecked cunt. It hurts. You feel the burn of being outstretched together with discomfort of overstimulation. Even then, the moans that come out from you are of carnal thrill and elation.

It hurts, but in the best ways possible.

Your toes are curling from the lack of grip on reality while your hands tremble as they sought for anything to hold on to. One is shaking as it grips on Tooru’s forearm while the other is quivering at nothing in mid air.

Finally, Shoyo takes notice of you. You don’t care how you look right now, but you’re just glad that he’s looking your way again.

He hooks your calves to his shoulders, freeing both of his hands to hold yours. He intertwines them with his, allowing you to ground yourself on him that way.

Tooru’s thrusts become erratic as hands find purchase on your tits to paw. “Fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna-uughhhh -cum.”

Your response is one driven by vulgar desires. “Cum inside me, Tooru. Pleasee,” you tell him as you look him in the eyes.

“Fuck yes! ”

The slap of his skin against yours gets louder and faster while his high-pitched whines fill your ear. “Yeaaah, cumming, Ms. Local. Shiiiit.” He stills completely while you feel spurts of warm liquid fill you up.

His hot breath fans your neck as he comes down from his climax, but he doesn’t budge and remains inside you. You wiggle above him, trying to get his cock to slip out, but he only fastens his grasp on your waist.

“Trust me, y/n. I’m doing this for you. Without my cock, this cunt of yours will loosen up. You and Shoyo-kun will take even longer to cum with how stretched and wet you already are.”

Shoyo, on the other hand, pummels inside you even faster from the lubrication Tooru gave. “You feel so amazing, y/n. Hmmmmppp. So tight, so sexy, so haaaa.” His fingers are almost crushing your hand, but you only feel the pleasure of being drilled with his dick.

Tooru’s hand flies to your sex and frantically plays with your clit again. But this time, the effect is even more immense as he consistently rubs it with his calloused pads in rapid up and down strokes. His other fingers add another stimulation for you, tweaking one perk nipple - pinching and pulling at his leisure.

Your whole body is on fire. You feel so dirty with sweat, drool, and cum all mixed and squelching from your slit. You feel it - the impending orgasm that feels different from the rest. Your head’s all fuzzy while your vision is getting blurry for some reason.

When a hiccup escapes your mouth, you figure out why - you’re sobbing. Tears are welling in your eyes from the overstimulation. “Too muuuuchhh, is tooo muaaa-aaaahhh.”

“Almost there, y/n. Just a bit more,” Shoyo says with eyes closed and clenched jaw as he continues roughing up your already sore pussy.

Shoyo starts thrusting a bit upwards, hitting a spot that’s doing something inexplicable to your senses. “Something — oh god, something’s uuuhhh, noooo.”

You hear a deafening wail from you as clear liquid gushes out from your sex while you thrash uncontrollably. “Holy shit, she squirted.” Tooru’s voice seems distant with how you’re still teetering from the violent orgasm that exploded from you.

“What was th- shit! I’m cumming. I’ll cum inside you too, y/n. You’ll let me, riiight?”

His hips rut viciously onto yours, prolonging the intensity of your own release. His mewls get louder and louder paired with your cries until he delivers one sharp thrust that unloads his seed inside you.

You feel so full with two dicks still inside you with both their cum dripping down your pussy. Tooru is the first to pull out while Shoyo is puffing with his hands still tightly clutched onto yours.

A massive weight looms on your chest, extending all over your body now that the euphoric yet salacious fog in your head is slowly being stripped off. Your vision is clearing out, the light bulb on your ceiling suddenly seeming too bright for you. The tenderness of certain body parts are getting noticeable. The sweat and saliva on your skin suddenly feels too sticky, too filthy, too disgusting.

You’re not even aware you’re trembling once again.

Oikawa, being the one holding, immediately takes notice. “Y/n?”

Your response to him is a whimper. “Shit. Let go of her. Now,” he says with urgency.

Shoyo opens his eyes and is alarmed when he sees you in a rattled distress. He softly draws you away from Oikawa and cradles you himself.

Oikawa stands up and goes to your drawers. Hinata doesn’t know why but doesn’t mind and turns his attention to you instead.

“Y/n?” He caresses your shoulder down to your arms, trying to ease whatever it is that’s bothering you. You hang onto his bicep but it slides down from the dampness of his skin. His concern grows when you let out a soft sob.

He holds your hand delicately, brushing his thumb against it. He tries to get you to look at him but you persistently shun your face away. “Please look at me. I’m so sorry. Was I too rough?”

You swing your head side to side, refuting his assumption. “I feel nasty and gross,” you sniffle. “But you’re not. You were so beautiful and sexy and amazing,” he says truthfully as he remembers how ravishing you were laid out for him.

You finally look at him, the most vulnerable he’s ever seen you.

“Really?”

He nods earnestly before planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

Oikawa comes back to bed with fresh towels at hand. He wipes the clammy fluids on your body, patting the warm cloth on your arms, thighs, and torso which alleviates further your malaise. Then, he wraps a new one around you and lifts you up to a sitting position.

“You’re far from being disgusting, y/n,” Oikawa whispers on the back of your head. He carefully lays his hand on your shoulder, testing if his touch triggers any unpleasant reaction from you. He skims it towards your neck and cups it. With no resistance put up, he places a chaste kiss on your nape.

“You were incredible,” he hums on your skin. “Let’s take a shower? Get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur weakly. Oikawa looks at Hinata and signals him to carry you since you’re more comfortable with him.

You sigh once the warm trickles of liquid hit your skin. It’s calming, soothing the distraught uproar in your thoughts and nerves.

A hand rakes up the wet strands of your hair and lathers your soap on your back. On your front, a familiar set of lips kisses you while water streams down on both of you. It feels like a hazy, tranquil dream. You just hear the cascading of water, echo of footsteps in the wet tiles, and a couple of sighs.

Next thing you now, you’re snuggled up in bed with someone drying your hair. You open your heavy lids and catch sight of a topless Tooru seated next to you as he tucks you with a blanket that smells like your drawers.

The bed is no longer drenched and everything feels crisp and fresh, lulling you deeper to rest.

“Stay with her until the morning, Shoyo.” It’s Tooru’s voice.

“You’re leaving?” Shoyo questions him as he stops patting the towel on your hair..

“Nah. She doesn’t like me. She’ll probably scream or hit my face first thing in the morning.” He’s about to get up when you muster whatever energy’s left of you to grab his wrist.

He regards you with care as he takes hold of the hand you’re tugging him with. “Yes?”

“Stay.”

He smiles with affection, a novel sight he’s shown you only now. He joins you in bed, filling the empty space on your left side. You close your eyes again, relishing the soft caresses and gentle pecks on your body as you peacefully drift off to sleep.

You wake up with the warmth of another body radiating onto yours. A heavy arm is draped across your waist and your cheek is nestled to a chest that rises and falls in a calming tempo that makes you want to drift back to your slumber.

But curiosity gets you. You slowly open your lids and are met with rays of sunlight glazing the orange strands of hair of the man next to you.

‘Sunshine on sunshine,’ you thought.

It’s a stirring sight to behold, but you have to wonder. He’s never stayed until morning. What happened last night that made him do so?

You scuff around, getting ready to sit up when you feel a heavy ache from your abdomen all the way down to your legs.

Wha- oh.

Oh.

That happened.

After your mind refreshes itself and replays some key scenes from last night, you glance back at Shoyo with no ounce of regret from what happened. You give him a soft peck on his chest and carefully shuffle out of the bed, making sure you don’t wake him up.

Up on your feet, you walk to your dining room and find what you’re looking for - the other accomplice of last night’s feat.

He’s seated comfortably at your table with a hot cup of coffee. “Buenos dias, señora,” he greets in his own dazzling way.

“I thought you were leaving,” you state with no trace of hostility as you trudge to the kitchen from how tender your lower body is.

“I clearly heard you asked me to stay,” he ripostes.

You get your own cup of coffee and join him in the dining area. “I did, didn’t I?” you ask with a soft whimsical grin ghosting across your lips.

“Mmhmm,” he sips from his mug leisurely then asks, “Any regretS?”

You meet his mellow eyes with your own. “Weirdly, none.”

The smiles that spread on your faces mirror each other, humored and satiated. Last night was definitely an experience - a mind-blowing one, and you’re extremely thankful that the aftermath of it was extremely catered for you as well.

The remaining contents of his coffee were spent in comfortable silence. “I think this is when I say thanks for the sex and coffee, then leave.”

Your reaction should be of animosity. This is the part you detested, when you’re treated like a part of the Rio de Janeiro local tour. But for some reason, you found the current situation funny.

“I believe it is indeed that moment,” you agree congenially.

“See you when I see you, Ms. Local,” he gives you a wink and gets up. The smile you had doesn’t go away as you bring your cup to your lips.

You hear your door open and a sudden need to tell him a parting message bursts on your chest.

“Hey, Tourist,” you break the stillness of your apartment as you call him out and turn around on your seat to face him.

“Hmm?” He regards you quaintly with his hand still on the doorknob.

It is long overdue and inappropriate in various sorts of ways, but you say it anyways.

“Welcome to Brazil.”

masterlist of other stuff I wrote

Taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @babythotshq @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @crescenttooru @yashuaaa @liberhoe @richkookie @hqbeesun @megatron-1199 @kawaiiisis

#oikawa smut #hinata smut #haikyuu smut #oiikawa x reader #hinata x reader

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