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⋆✶.* otto or wyr / twenty-two / she they

✦ info / rules ★ fic masterlist ✸ blind fic collection

✶ recents - gently washing / kita s. - a neighborly favor / osamu m. - unnamed / hinata s. - it’s the small things / kuroo t. - an off-course proposal / kageyama t. - oh, the usual? / osamu m. - unnamed / kuroo t.

✦ birthday request event <3

fun facts: - mr responsible is kuroo, benefactor (romantic) is kenma, and love of my life is kiyoko - they’ve all been friends since y/n invited them all to the opening of their bar - kiyoko owns a flower shop (inspired heavily by one of @dumdogs old fics) - kenma is actually one of the stockholders of the bar - the bar is called sad puppy bar (inspired by y/n’s lifelong love of snoopy) - the icon is a sad looking little basset hound - you try to get local musicians to play but none of them have quite fit the vibe - koji is a wonderful cook who regularly gives the servers snacks that were ‘sent back’ - you worked as a bartender in college so you regularly sub in when yours calls out sick - kuroo also has a more official account for work but regularly uses this one with friends

“you just happened to buy the building next to my bar? and i’m supposed to believe it’s just a coincidence?”

synopsis: after years of not seeing your ex-fiancé, he shows up at your bar, revealing that he’s bought the building next door to finally own his own restaurant.

pairing: osamu miya x gn!reader - type: smau / written - tropes: exes to lovers, business owners, second chances - warnings: alcohol use, cussing, crude jokes, references to sex - taglist: open

profiles: bar hoppers + moochers

chapters:

1 - enemy at the front gates 2 - someone’s unlucky 3 - namesake 4 - an eye for an eye 5 - mistake after mistake 6 - unlocked door

  hinata stops in his tracks, turning back around to look at you. his eyebrow quirks upward, hands resting on his hips. reaching out your hand, you wipe the sunscreen across his forehead, hands smoothing it down his temples and onto his cheeks. his gaze remains fixed on you, a small smile resting on his lips.

  “this is fun for you, isn’t it?” he questions, one hand reaching over to rest on your lower back, keeping you standing in place.

  your fingers rub the sunscreen onto his nose, slowly working it into the skin below his eyes. “i am simply enjoying protecting you from sun damage,” you wipe it across his cheeks, quickly realizing that you grabbed way too much sunscreen for his face. 

  “well, you need some protecting too,” his hand pulls you towards him, his cheek rubbing up against yours as the sunscreen wipes across your skin. 

  “shoyo!” you screech, hands pushing away from his shoulders, only counteracted from his arms wrapping around you.

  kicking your feet, he pulls you with him towards the water. you both laugh in between breaths, the cool ocean water quickly brushing up against your feet and then shins. the water keeps rising until it reaches your waist, your legs wrapped around his own waist. keeping your hands on the back of his neck, you hold on tight, not letting go.

  “do not drop me in the water!” you exclaim, forehead pressed against his. 

  “okay! okay, i will not, in exchange for a kiss,” he leans back, eyes staring up at you, the glow of the sun radiating around you. 

  “this is extortion, you know that?”

  “call it what you want, i am asking for one simple thing.”

  shaking your head, your hands shift to his shoulder blades, pulling yourself to him. you press a kiss to his lips, tasting a lingering hint of sunscreen and the mango ice cream he had minutes ago. slowly, you lean back up, staring back down at him. “okay, i’ve given you what you want!” you wrap your arms back around his neck.

    on especially hard days on the farm, you’ll usually find yourself hunched over the kitchen sink, fingers massaging shampoo into kita’s scalp. you’ll start by swirling your fingers through his roots, making sure to rid his hair of any grease or dirt he may have accumulated throughout the day. and then, as his eyes shut in comfort, you run your nails along his scalp, a tingling sensation running down to the base of his neck.

  you’re not quite sure who initiated this ritual you’ve grown to enjoy. you simply remember coming to visit him when you were living separately, watching a show together as you ran your hands through his hair. he claimed he had showered after you mentioned that his hair felt a little greasier than usual, evident by the slight smell of coconut and sandalwood. 

  and you somehow found yourselves in the kitchen, a towel draped over his shoulders, your finger resting under the water until you find the right temperature. “if this is too warm, tell me. i know you always think i run too hot in the shower,” you pull the head from the sink, running the water along his hairline. 

  his head immediately jerked forward, water dripping down over his eyes as droplets drip from his chin. his eyes widen as he looks up at you, hair plastered down over his forehead. “too hot?” you look back at him, biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

  “too hot,” his eyebrows drop, eyes glaring up at you. 

  “okay, okay, i’ll turn it down some, now rest your head back or else you’ll be greasy forever,” you take your palm and press against his forehead until his head relaxes back against the countertop. 

  however, once the water was at the perfect temperature, he relaxed into your touch. as he has many evenings since the first one. and just like the first one, you love to watch how his eyes flutter shut. how his gaze falls away from you because he knows that you’ll only do good by him.

  after combing your nails through his hair, you grab the faucet’s head again, bringing it up to his hair to wash any remaining soap out. it slowly trickles through his thick hair, soap and water swirling down the drain. his black tips mix through his lightened hair, overlapping each other as your hands push the remaining soap out. 

  “okay, baby, time to get up,” you tap his shoulder, watching as his eyes slowly open back up, body rising away from the sink.

  taking the towel from his shoulders, you quickly dry his hair until it’s damp. and he usually denies it, but on this night in particular, he lets you take out your blow dryer. turning it up to medium, you blow it against the back of his head, shaking it around the entirety of his hair. his hair quickly shoots out in all directions as the air hits it. 

  raking your fingernails through his hair, you recognize a softness that you can only get from him when you’ve washed his hair in the sink. “there, all soft and clean now,” you ruffle his hair, hand moving down to his chin, thumb caressing his cheek.

  “thank you,” kita’s voice is meek, quiet, because he can just be that with you. 

plus it must just be awful to have him start coming in every night looking to buy a beer. and you wouldn’t want to deny him, because ultimately you are getting paid, no matter how smug his smile is. and then you’d randomly find a packed meal on your bar as you get ready to open for the day, with his stupidly attractive handwriting.