#stares at the toxic chain server

[skyedancer2006]

The Reptileshipping brainrot is real…

#you guys get no context for this :3 #if you know you know #stares at the toxic chain server

[kinsurou]

Hello guys! This is my first contribution to the Haikyuu HQ Server Collabs! It's so exciting to be part of this project alongside so many wonderful creators! We were asked to create a fic/art with the following prompt: "I wonder what he'd do if he knew you were with me right now." (Pronouns may vary).

I want to thank everyone in the HQHQ Server who helped me out with this fic. You guys are such amazing friends and I love every single one of you!

Click here to check out the Collab Masterlist!

Word Count: 5.1K

Pairings: Suna Rintarou x Reader

Beta Reader: @kuroos-babygirl

Warnings: Smut (+18), Dubcon (Reader doesn't give verbal consent.) Coercion, Toxic Parental Figures, Use of weed, Alcohol, Unprotected sex, Corruption.

A sharp, unfaltering gaze followed your every move all the way back from the other side of the room. From the small fidgeting whenever anyone looked in your direction, to the way you would sip awkwardly at the red cup clasped between your hands, and the scrunch of distaste adorning your features because of the strong, bitter flavor of the drink.

But what else could you do when you’re surrounded by literal strangers, and the only person that can be considered your only friend was currently too busy straddling a guy’s lap, making out to her heart’s content and grinding against his lap...while they’re both sitting in front of you.

It was so awkward...and yet it was nearly impossible to look away from the two of them. The way her hips rocked against his lap as she pulled on his gray locks, or his veiny hands taking a firm hold of her hips. Watching her going at it with this guy was too much to handle.

Why did you let her drag you into this party to begin with? If your parents find out you snuck out of the house, they’ll kill you.

...Your parents.

That thought is quickly forgotten. Right now you just want to have another drink and drown the worries away. Standing up from the cushion, you quickly begin walking towards the kitchen, leaving behind the security of the couch as well as your occupied friend. 

To your relief, the kitchen isn’t as crowded as the rest of the house, where other people were just talking, some of them doing keg stands or playing drinking games. There’s even some of them laying around the floor or leaning against the walls, completely knocked out by the amount of alcohol they consumed.

Finally, you come across a mess of beer bottles and red cups all over the countertop, some of them thrown around carelessly, others are full with the alcohol you were desperately looking for. Rather than going back to your seat, you stay in the empty room, leaning back against the marble and taking a swig of a new cup, once again drinking in silence while swaying slightly to the beat of the music. Too distracted to realize someone else just walked in until their footsteps come relatively closer, stopping less than a few feet away from you.

“Isn’t it past midnight already, Cinderella?” 

You jolt in surprise, nearly crushing the cup with a tight grip until you recognize that voice and that cursed nickname. There’s only one person on campus who calls you that face to face. Frowning slightly as you look at the culprit, you come face to face with a pair of nonchalant, dark yellow eyes that are always looking out for other’ weak spots despite their absent facade.

“Stop calling me that, Suna.” You turn away from him, hoping that he’ll get the hint and walk away, but that heavy, piercing gaze never leaves your body. Instead, he just walked closer before stopping in front of you. He starts leaning forwards, that bored look on his face doesn’t change in the slightest while he traps you between the marble countertop and his broad torso. “G-Go away…”

But he just continues staring at you, not another word comes out of his lips before his face approaches yours. Cheeks brushing past each other’s so faintly that the touch almost goes unnoticed. When his warm breath brushes against the uncovered skin of your shoulders, you finally realize just how close he’s standing. But either he doesn’t notice or he just doesn’t care about the proximity, or the effects it has on your body. Such as the clenching between your thighs or the small hitch in your breathing.

It only lasted for a minute, and yet it feels like an eternity when he finally takes a step back, holding one of those familiar cups in hand. Both relief and disappointment radiate off your body when he finally takes a step back, but judging from the way he looks at you with a small glint in his eyes, Suna is perfectly aware of what he’s provoking.

“Disappointed much?” God, you wanted to smack that smirk off his face so badly. This is exactly why you try to avoid him in college as much as possible.

...As well as other reasons.

“You’re so easy to read that it’s not even a challenge.” The eye contact is never broken as he leans back against the sink, taking a sip of his own cup so nonchalantly. It was like he didn’t corner you in the first place. But you know better that Suna Rintarou never does anything by mere coincidence. “What are you doing here in the first place? I thought Cinderella wasn’t allowed to go to the party.”

“Yeah, well…” You don’t look at him as you answer. The less eye contact you could make with him, the better “She still attended, didn’t she?”

He chuckled quietly from his spot. It was such a low noise, barely audible despite standing so close to him. And yet something about it was just so captivating. You’ve never heard his laughter before, so this was definitely something new.

“No wonder everyone’s talking about you right now.” With those words, you fell right into his trap just like a butterfly on a spiderweb. Quickly turning around to find yourself into the same position as before. Trapped between marble and his warmth. This time he stood even closer than before, so close that you could smell an all too familiar scent that saturated every fiber of his clothes.

“It was too good to be true. The principal’s daughter coming to a party? Had to see with my own eyes.” He leans forwards again. The overwhelming proximity makes your heart beat rapidly against your chest with such strength, it’s a miracle Suna hasn’t said anything about it when he presses his own chest against yours. Or maybe he did notice, if the way he looks at your cleavage is any indicator.

“You’re so nervous, it feels like I’m looking at a little rabbit.” His fingers start playing with the hem of your blouse, brushing faintly against your hips. Every inch of your skin trembles by his touch. A part of your head tells you this is a bad idea, that you need to walk away and leave right this instant. But your body says otherwise, staying firm in place.

“N-No.” Your gaze is averted, focused on anything else but the man standing in front of you. “Please, I just want to leave...”

“Do you? Or maybe you’re just afraid.” Something brushes softly against the shell of your ear, it takes you a full minute to realize that feeling belongs to his lips, nibbling teasingly while his hands make their way up your back, fiddling with the clips of your bra. But he just keeps tugging at them playfully, not really set on taking off your clothes….at least not yet.

“Afraid of what your parents would say. Think nobody knows how they treat you?” his hands finally stop, just to delve down until they’re resting over your lower back. “You’re such a good girl who never causes trouble...it’s too good to be true if you ask me.”

He pulled your hips closer towards him, slipping one leg between your trembling legs. A sly smirk grew on his face once he began grinding his knee against your core, sweet friction drew out one of the sweetest, high-pitched gasps from you. A noise so sweet, dirty and addictive that he needed to hear more of them. So when you looked at him in the eye, Suna could barely control himself. “Don’t you want to let loose for once? Do you want to be my dirty little girl?”

“Suna, I…” He didn’t wait for an answer, capturing your silky lips into a fervent kiss, swallowing every single whimper you gave whenever that knee brushed lazily against your core. Everything he did quickly overwhelmed your body, triggering a chain of breath-taking sensations. Like the fluttering at the pit of your stomach, the uncontrollable shivers prickling your skin, and the waves of heat radiating off your face. Frankly, you wanted more of it.

...But just thinking about your parent’s reactions was enough to feel terrified. The constant pressure and beliting over the smallest things. Not getting a perfect score in all the exams? Lazy and irresponsible. Wearing something they deemed inappropriate? Attention seeker. You could still remember the one time you ran into Suna while he was smoking, the smell of his cigarette had tainted your clothes that day, but neither of your parents believed the claims of innocence, calling you such horrible things that the mere reminder could be enough to make anyone suffer a meltdown.

Having one of the harshest teachers as well as the principal themselves as your parents was a nightmare nobody would wish upon their worst enemy.

You mustered enough courage to place both hands on his chest, slightly pushing him away while trying so hard not to try and feel the chiseled muscles hidden underneath the black fabric of his shirt.

“Stop. They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“They don’t have to know.”

“But I don’t want to get in trouble again.”

“You’re already in trouble just being here, Cinderella.”

It was true. And you hated how true that statement was, sooner or later your father would find out and it would be chaos...but that didn’t do much to soothe that painful sensation at the pit of your stomach, slowly feeding off the sheer horror you felt at the idea of their constant beliting.

The trembling of your body didn’t go unnoticed by the guy standing between your legs. 

“Hey, you’re already in trouble...So let me help you relax, what do you say, Cinderella?” He kissed your jaw softly, lingering in place as he inhaled the soft scent of perfume. “Don’t you want to feel good for once? I know you’ll enjoy it.”

But he was only met with silence, neither were you looking at him again, instead your eyes stayed focused on the sink overflowing with empty bottles of liquor. Suna just huffed, pulling his hands back before he began stepping back, ready to go back to the living room with a sour mood, but that quickly vanished when he felt the tight clutch at the corner of his shirt.

With an eyebrow raised, he turned back to see you grabbing on his shirt, still avoiding his gaze as much as possible. But he could see it, the way your body said the contrary. You wanted this as much as he did, maybe even more. But the fear clouding your thoughts was making it hard to say anything.

And that gave Suna an idea.

“If you want this so bad, then I can give you a hand. What do you say Cinderella?” His fingers once again brushed against the uncovered skin of your shoulder. And when you made no move to stop his approaches, Suna knew he had won. “Good girl.”

He grabbed you softly by the wrist, determined to take things somewhere more private. Nobody seemed to pay attention anymore as you both walked across the halls. When he crossed the living room, Suna made eye contact with his silver haired friend, who was ever so busy with the girl sitting on his lap as she attacked his neck fervently. Both males just looked at each other and nodded silently before getting back to business. Osamu went back to making out with the girl, and Suna brought you along to one of the empty rooms.

The sound of a door being closed snapped you out of it. apart from the soft glow of the moonlight, the room was completely dark, but it was still possible to see the outline of some furniture placed around the room, the outline of a desk at the corner, some shelves and even a small couch near the window. It had to be some sort of study. Whose house was this in the first place…?

Out of nowhere, a strong smell began coming from your side, slowly making its presence well-known across the room. A strong smell that could come from one thing only.

And that was from the joint held between Suna’s fingers, the tip burned brightly in the darkness of the room, giving his sharp features this captivating, gentle glow akin to that from a fireplace in those fairytales you always used to read when you were but a small little girl, still full of nothing but hope and dreams for a brighter future.

Suna noticed the way your eyes lingered on the speck of light, following the smoky trail as it danced across the small breeze inside the room before dissipating, like it never existed in the first place.

“Here.” He put the joint in front of your face, not even blinking by the shocked expression on your face. Eyes wide open as you looked at it with sheer horror and panic. “This will help you relax, little rabbit.”

“...I thought I was Cinderella?”

“I thought you hated that nickname?”

He sighed in irritation, knowing exactly where this was going. You changed the subjects on purpose, trying to delay this for a bit longer. “Come on, it’s not like it’s gonna bite you.”

Slowly, you grabbed the joint from his hand. Carefully bringing it closer to your mouth and letting its weight rest over your lips for a moment, before inhaling deeply. Something you quickly regretted before coughing rapidly, suffocating on the smoke burning at the back of your throat. The room was filled with coughing and a laughing fit coming from the male sitting on the couch. When in the world did he sit down?

“How...ack!...How do you enjoy this crap?!” You wheezed painfully, glaring at Suna while he held the sides of his stomach, his body was shaking tremendously from his laughter that he nearly slid off the couch. Asshole…

Once he regained his breath, he got up from his seat and approached you again, taking the blunt away before you could throw it away, after all it had been expensive.

“Seriously Cinderella. You’re supposed to go slowly.” He pulled you along one more time. Sitting back on his previous spot as he helped position your legs to his sides so you straddled his lap just nicely enough for him to admire the sight in front of him. “I suppose you could use some help, mmm?”

You looked at him in both embarrassment and confusion. Watching him smoke that cursed thing so easily, no coughing fits, no choking on the smoke, nada. How long had he been doing this? All your attention was on the embers coming to life with his breathing, too focused on that precious light to notice the hand making its way around your back, casually tracing circles on your upper back.

That same hand pulled you again, this time with such care that it was impossible to resist the contact, not even when he pulled the blunt away before reaching out for your face, holding you close by the cheeks as your lips brushed against each others. You focused every bit of attention on that feather like touch, that was shortly followed by a fain gust of smoke. It felt so intimate being like this, being held so closely by someone you’ve known since high school, and being able to catch up after all this time wasn’t such a bad experience after all…

Then something in the air took a sharp turn when he closed the distance between your lips, once again capturing them with his own. But this time that weight on your shoulders was absent. That fear that always haunted your every action, every decision, every single thought, it was all gone.

For once in your life, you were not afraid anymore…

Your arms me their way around his neck, deepening the kiss with an intensity Suna didn’t even know was possible for someone as meek and quiet as you. No wonder people always joke that the quietest ones are the most perverse.

“Haha...That’s the spirit, Cinderella.”

The arms around your body pulled your hips down, grinding the spot between your legs against something hard, it didn’t take a genius to know where this was heading. You just let his arms guide you through it, enjoying the grinding of his growing erection and the low grunts he gave, easily muffled by the deafening music blaring through the other side of the door.

“Enjoying yourself?” If only you could see the mischievous smirk on his face when the only reply he got was a loud whimper. If only you could see the effect those little noises had on the male humping through your clothes, eager to get a taste of your body after all this time pining after you. “Fuck, you’re really into this, huh? You dirty little girl.”

Was it his words? The blunt finally starting to kick in? Both? Whatever it was, it made waves of heat radiate off your skin, covering it with a thin layer of sweat that made your clothes suffocating. Every fiber of these borrowed tight fitting clothes kept sticking oh so painfully over your body.

It felt like a torture having to part away from Suna, but these clothes had to leave. He had to admit watching as your top left your body was a delicious show, one he really wanted to take part in as he reached out to help remove your bottoms, leaving your body displayed to him, covered in nothing but a scandalous set of lingerie.

“Not so innocent, are you?”

As soon as you got within his arm’s reach, he pulled you back into his lap again. This time however, he had you sitting down between his open legs, with your bare back leaning against his chest. Not only did Suna have a way with words that could easily rile anyone up, but he also had a way to do wonders with his hands. 

The blunt was left over the window’s edge, forgotten in favor of your lace covered chest. Which he began squeezing softly, pinching the fabric over your nipples every time you released a whimper because of his intoxicating touches.

“Do you ever play with your nipples the same way you play with your pussy?”

“N-No…!”

“You’re an awful liar, Cinderella.” He slid one hand under your bra, pinching an erect nipple between his fingers while his other hand made his way to trace small circles over your panties, enjoying the feeling of damp fabric under his fingers. “You can tell a lot about people by looking them in the eye. You’re so desperate to be fucked silly.”

The lace over your chest is pulled upwards, releasing the soft mounds from their restraints with a soft bounce before a hand quickly latched on to one of them. Squeezing in sync with the fingers making their way inside the black lingerie, one began prodding its way between sloppy folds, gathering enough of your arousal before delving deeper into your cunt.

“Mmmm!….It feels so...weird.” Your back arches with each thrust of his finger against your soft walls “Suna, please!” Rather than slowing down he pushes another finger inside, thrusting and scissoring them at a leisurely pace to prepare you for the real thing.

“Come on, I know you can do better than that.” He swiftly wraps an arm under your chest as soon as your body starts writhing, buckling against the digits buried deep inside. The calloused texture, a result of his constant games of volleyball, provide additional stimulation. “Now, hold still. Look at you, taking my fingers so well.”

If only you could wipe that smirk of his face, but your hands were currently balled up into tight fists, nails digging painfully into the skin of your palms with ferocious strength, threatening to rip through the flesh at any moment. 

“Does it feel this good when you’re touching yourself?” You began squirming again, unable to take anymore of his touch, it’s too much, your body couldn’t take it anymore. It jerked furiously as it reached an orgasm, knocking the air out of your lungs with its strength.

If only you could see the look on Suna’s face as he leaned forwards over your shoulder, observing the heave of your chest with heightened desire. The throbbing in his pants turned unbearable when your walls clenched around his hand, soaking it with your sweet release that dripped down on the couch. 

God, he wanted to be inside you so badly. He wanted to ruin that sweet little hole, wreck it and fill it with his cum until the only thing that came out of your parted lips was his name.

“Ready for the best part, you little whore?” You were still too dazed to answer him, not even when he laid you face down on the couch, pulling your hips up to hook two fingers over the waistband of those soaked panties, pulling them away and taking them off before shoving them in his pocket. He grunted at the sight of those dripping folds, grabbing the flesh of your bare ass to get a better look at that slick cunt ready to be pleased. “I want to taste your pussy so badly, Cinderella.”

His hand left your skin just as quickly. You felt his weight leave the cushion, hearing the rustle of fabric even with the music from the party still blaring downstairs. One sound caught your attention among all the noise. The sound of a zipper being undone lures you attention like a sweet melody. And when your face follows the source you’re greeted by such an alluring sight of a well toned chest, with ripped muscles from years of training in the volleyball team despite Suna’s lean frame.

You wanted to run your hands acrossthem again, caress and kiss that bare skin. But Suna had other plans as he lowered both pants and boxers, sighing as his erection springs out with a small bounce, with a small bead of precum already dribbling down. He was quick to crawl over your naked body to begin grinding his shaft between your cheeks so you could feel the hard cock eager to be inside your velvet walls. “But as much as I’d love to have you sitting on my face. I can’t wait any longer, but neither can you right?”

He let out that signature chuckle when you buried your face into the arm rest and started mumbling to yourself, he could still make out something along the lines of “asshole”. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Cinderella.” He gathered more of your arousal between his fingers, occasionally rubbing a thumb against your clit to tease, ignoring the desperate pleads as he began pumping his cock, covering it with enough of your slick before pressing it down between your folds, with a quick thrust of his hips, he finally buried himself all the way in.

The fabric underneath your face muffed your cries of discomfort, pressed tightly against your face to the point it was hard to breathe. The stretch was so painful, so hot, but it was so fucking good, your body craved for more and Suna was eager to provide.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. You feel so good sucking in my cock like a good little slut.” He gripped your hips harshly, giving short, lazy thrust that made you cry out to him. “Tell me how good it feels to have me inside of you.”

“It feels...ngh! It feels great, Suna!” A hand smacked your ass painfully, leaving behind a burning sensation on the delicate skin. “Mmmm!”

“Wrong name, sweetheart.” He gave another thrust, a rougher one that pushed you forwards, nearly smacking your forehead against the arm rest. “Wanna try again? You better get it right this time.”

“R….Rin-!” A hand pressed firmly on your back while the other one tilted your hips upwards, it helped Suna brush against a different spot, one that brought tears to your eyes with every thrust. An arm reached back to hold on to him, just to be grabbed by the wrist and twisted behind your back, trapped in place while Suna began moving faster “Eh, close enough. Be grateful your pussy feels so good, otherwise I would’ve left already.”

“No!” You cried out, “Please Rin! Don’t stop, it feels so good!” You gave him a pleading look and tried moving your hips, just for a hand to smack the tender flesh of your ass, it was a warming to remain still. You’ve never been this bold before, why were you acting so different? Was it the effects of the blunt? Being railed in the middle of a party, where anyone could barge in at any moment?

“So you know your place, good.” you didn’t know it was possible to feel better than what you’re currently feeling, but Suna proved it was possible when he began pounding you harder, nearly pulling out his whole member until only the tip remained inside before slamming back against your abused hole.

He couldn’t take his eyes off your body, of the soft jiggling of your ass whenever he slammed back against it, the loud slapping of your skin, the way you moaned whenever he brushed against your cervix. It was too good, and he needed to preserve that image.

Your arm was released abruptly, and you quickly pulled it back to hold onto something else as the same warm feeling from before began spreading again, sending goosebumps through your whole body. If that wonderful feeling and the music hadn’t been a distraction, you would have heard the low beep of a smartphone filming everything. 

It started out at the spot where you both were connected, capturing the uncontrollable clenching of your cunt around Suna’s cock, the lewd mixture of your moans, grunts, the slapping of sweaty skin and one of the most vulgar songs to ever exist, slowly the camera went over those red marks all over your ass and hips, until it stopped at the back of your head, and the locks of hair bouncing around with each thrust.

“You look beautiful, Cinderella.” Suna cooed. “I wonder what They’d do if They knew you were with me right now.” He hissed in delight when you clenched tighter around him. “What would mommy and daddy think of you?” 

Anyone else would have cringed from thinking about their parents in the middle of sex, but Suna’s words stirred something twisted inside you. A wicked being yearning to make your parent’s life miserable and make them pay for everything.

Every single memory came back in a flash. From the memories of elementary school, where they expected nothing but the best but couldn’t bother to attend the school plays to the incident at college. 

That was the last straw, and the exact same reason why you sneaked out to this party to begin with, even borrowing an outfit from your friend that was perfect for the occasion. And look where that got you, to one hell of a good experience. Probably the first time you’ve been able to be yourself, not just a trophy child to be bragged about during Christmas dinner.

The same creature wanting to feed off your parent’s wrath kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear, sinister thoughts hidden behind honeyed words, craving to watch the world burn beneath your feet….In the end, not a single effort was ever enough to please your parent’s expectations...so, why bother?

Fuck it...Fuck it all.

“Harder, please fuck me harder Rin! Your cock feels amazing!” Suna blinked once, then twice, scoffing in amusement by the sudden twist in your mood, but who was he to complain? His phone was quickly shoved aside and ignored, not even remembering to stop filming as he leaned over your body. 

Those hard muscles you had been craving to touch were pressed firmly against your back, his toned arms resting around your head, and the chance to feel them up was certainly not missed.

With this angle, he reached places inside you that felt like the physical embodiment of paradise. Drool, sweat and tears covered your entire face when he found that one spot that took away your breath, and he began abusing it repeatedly. He too started getting closer to his release, and buried his face into your hair with a growl. His pace wavered bit….but he was so close, and so were you, judging from the desperation as you chanted his name over and over.

“Where do you want me to cum, my little whore? In you- Fuck! in your pussy? Your mouth? Your pretty pucker? I’ll put it wherever you want.”

That was it, you couldn’t take it anymore. Just thinking of it sent you over the edge. Your walls clamped down on his cock with such force that Suna had to stop moving. He would’ve loved to keep going for a little longer, but he couldn’t take it either.

“Rin!” With the last cry of his name, he pushed his whole body against yours, dropping his whole weight down as he finally came,  coating your insides with spurt after spurt of warm cum. Nothing seemed to matter as you laid on the soiled piece of furniture, trying to catch your breath in a dark room reeking of sex, sweat and weed.

It felt like an eternity had passed when Suna finally moved away and pulled out, watching in satisfaction as his cum began leaking, running down over your folds, your clit, eventually dripping down on the furniture with every spasm of your body.

The one thing that caught him off guard was when you hid your face away from him and began trembling in place, muffling some sniffles with the aid of the cushion. The fact you began crying caught him off guard for a moment, until your face turned to the side. And rather than crying, you were actually giggling like a mad woman.

You couldn’t stop that giddy smile. Cheeks burning furiously from everything you felt in that moment. For once in your life, you had the chance to experience freedom in the most intoxicating ways, and you wouldn’t change it for anything else.

“Everything okay, Cinderella?”

“Ahahaha...Yeah…” You turned over and laid on your back shortly after the laughter finally ceased, and turned back to him to watch that familiar joint between his fingers.

“Everything’s fine.”

Taglist: @hawks-senseis @honeytama @wakaoujisenhime @iwaasfairy @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro @xplosiveboy @shinsotired

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #suna smut #suna x reader #haikyu x reader #tw dubcon #dubcon tw #tw coercion #tw weed #p.going dark #coercion tw #suna rintarou smut #haikyuu imagines

[notaburgler]

I’m gonna beat you

Fem!reader

Triggers: cursing and sexual themes (at times)

Summary: You work as a waitress at a restaurant along side many of our lovely haikyuu boys. Your goal: get more tips than Oikawa!

You always hated how Oikawa would make off with more tips than you. Yes, he was good looking. Yes, he was charming. YES, he was the senior server at the chain restaurant you both worked at; but you were an attractive, smart, and amazing waitress!

It was a nightly ritual for the servers. After the doors closed and the customers were gone, you’d all sit at the large round table in the middle of the restaurant and count tips. It was a game- who made the most that night? You always came in second. He’d beat you by a landslide. How?!?! You were one of three girls working there, and most nights, you were the only girl. Seiko was the only other female server. She floated between serving and cooking and tonight, she was on cooking duty.

Kiyoko was the hostess, seating patrons and making the rotation fair. She knew of the game all of the servers played, and never picked favorites. But you had to wonder why when large groups crowded the lobby, Oikawa always managed to wrangle them into his section.

Yachi was a nervous wreck around people, but she was efficient and detailed. She did most paperwork and scheduling and helped in the dish pit when it was needed, but begged for staff not to come to her with complaints about the schedule. She’d panic and direct them to the assistant manager Ukai to solved them. She just couldn’t handle the stress. She tried serving one night when staffing was low… never again. It was a complete fuck show. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” she may as well have changed her name tag to I’m sorry instead of Yachi.

Tonight was no different than any other Saturday night. Being so close to the university filled your pockets quite well on weekends. The only difference about tonight was that you were going to beat Oikawa and get the most tips, you could feel it.

You had the largest section and it was packed full. The head chef on staff, Kuroo, had the hots for you. The bussers were sweet and kept a close eye on all sections, but the flash of a few extra dollars made their eyes pass by yours a bit more often. The stars were aligning for your triumphant victory over that cocky bastard Oikawa. It helped that the new guy had the small section next to Oikawa, and since he was the senior server, he was training.

The new guy was good. This was his first night alone and he seemed to be keeping up. Kyoko made sure to send what she thought would be easy orders his way so he wasn’t overwhelmed. He was a bit stoic though. He didn’t smile much and was pretty straight forward, but the customers seemed to like him and left a few bucks under the centerpiece.

You watched him fumble around a bit, Oikawa having to take a moment to correct him, ignoring his customers waving hand and impatient expression. It was gold. Tonight was the night! You could feel it deep inside of you. And the look Kyoko gave you from the podium up front made you that much more confident you’d destroy that cocky bastard tonight.

The group entering was loud, as most of them were. With a good bar on site and being so close to the dorms and fraternities, you saw quite a few young, drunk men come stumbling in, unable to properly control the volume of their voice. But drunk men meant lowered inhibitions; which meant great tips for the only girl on staff.

“Place us with your hottest server!”

His letterman’s jacket told Kyoko he hadn’t accepted he was no longer a high school football star. “Our hottest server is Oikawa.”

She glanced over, Oikawa smiling and laughing with a table of two older women. He could charm the pants off of anyone. At times, he’d even be able to make straight men question their own sexuality. He really was good at his job, and it drove you up the wall.

The drunk college boy grumbled, “I meant your hottest chick server.”

Kyoko hated these types and her eyes falling back to you, silently asking if you were up for the task showed her clear irritation in them already. You nodded. It was your turn to fill another table, and your pockets were lighter than they should be for how late in the night it was. There was one other table you needed to tend to before them, and you knew you’d need to prepare for all of the remarks about how cute you were and if they could get your number. Even Terushima wasn’t as bad as drunk college guys, and he was relentless.

Luckily, Kyoko was on the receiving end of most of his advancements. And lucky for her, her boyfriend Tanaka put a stop to them as they happened. As the bus boy, he was able to keep an eye on everything that happened throughout the restaurant, even eyes on his precious girlfriend.

You turned your back for one second- ONE SECOND- and Oikawa was already trying to steal your loot right from under you. With a charming smile and his sports knowledge, he lured the large group of drunk men over to his section like a fisher man with a weak catch. But you had something he didn’t: boobs.

With a quick adjustment to your top, you caught the attention of the leader of this pack of hungry wolves and beckoned him back over to the dark side. Nearly floating across the floor, he was led astray from Oikawa's clutches and landed dead center of your target.

“I thought you said you wanted the prettiest server?” A pout on your lips in a playful fashion, “am I not pretty?”

It was sleazy and way below your moral code. But Oikawa would be defeated tonight. You would reign supreme and scream your battle cry upon victory. You would have his head!

“Your the only server worthy of taking our order hot stuff.”

Hot stuff? Was that even a compliment anymore? The demeaning qualities of these delusional pledglings… ugh. You were gonna be in for a long night with this crowd.

You forced the corners of you mouth to curl. You probably looked more like the joker than a woman thrilled to be waiting on such classy lads, but you didn’t really care much. Your mind was wandering over to Oikawa's section where an eruption of laughter caught you off guard. Those women were eating up everything he said, even running their old, wrinkled fingers along his hand with flirtatious eyes.

You couldn’t let that wet paper towel beat you!

“I’ll be back in a bit to get your drinks ordered.” You turned and fled back to the kitchen.

Normally, such low ball tactics weren’t your thing. You preferred to get the job done the honest way. But today… today you’d play dirty.

“Kuroo!” His head darted up at your angelic voice, “I need you.” Words that stopped his heart and made him ascend to the heavens.

“Kuroo!”

He shook himself. Was he daydreaming again?

“What’s up sugar puff?” His nicknames always made you blush, and this time was no different.

After composing yourself, “I’m gonna beat Oikawa tonight.” You clenched your fists and stomped in excitement.

Without thinking, he grabbed the closest item, a broken broom handle, and smiled a wicked smile, “I’ll help.”

Did anyone like Oikawa?

You tried to hide the snicker that forced it's way up your throat, “no no…” his enthusiasm was endearing, but a bit too much. “I mean, I’m gonna get more tips. And you are a master schemer.”

That look. The look on your face made the butterflies in his stomach flutter uncontrollably. He could barely hold himself back from what his desires egged him to do.

“Ok…” he tossed the broom handle and went to work.

“Oh!” His hands grabbed at your shirt, “Kuroo! What the fuck?!?”

****

Oikawa's head turned to the commotion in the dish room. His usual smile faded for a split second, he recognized that voice. There was no doubt that you were up to something, he’d have to pull out the big guns tonight.

He was well aware of your desire to beat him. He never worried too much. He had each customer that sat at his tables wrapped around his finger the second he waltzed up to their seats and spoke. You’d made it abundantly clear that one day you’d make more in tips than him. He figured the sound was just you attempting some low ball move. He wasn’t wrong. He scoffed it off as some inferiority complex and walked off with a smile, his next order was up anyway.

He got to the window to see Bokuto sliding his plates to him, “order up.” His big goofy smile made the bile in Oikawa's stomach rumble upwards.

Bokuto was fun and always the life of the restaurant. Alongside Kuroo, the two were a great team. Kuroo cooking and Bokuto prepping, the food was flawless each and every time. But when Kuroo was on break, and Seiko was nowhere to be seen, Bokuto ran the kitchen, that’s when the chaos ensued.

He was a walking disaster. The only reason he wasn’t constantly in the hospital, or the building was still standing and not a pile of smoldering ash, was because of Kuroo. With a watchful eye, he guided the reckless prep cook into success. But the man burnt water if left unattended.

Oikawa grimaced, “Did you cook this?” Most of what Bokuto dished out was garbage.

“Yup. Specially made, just for your customers.”

Oikawa reluctantly grabbed the dishes and took in a big breath. He repeated over and over to himself, please don’t suck, please don’t suck as he placed the plates in front of each person.

“Enjoy your meal…” he couldn’t even say it with confidence. Bokuto's cooking was like feeding toxic waste to lab rats.

He scurried off, scared of the reactions. He couldn't bear facing them if that owl looking disaster had messed it up.

As he made it to the bar, his eyes caught you leaving the back. Something was different about you this time- something… sexy?

He couldn’t place it. Your hair was the same. Your posture was a bit better than before. Your smile bigger. But given your current table and the patrons staring happily at you, why wouldn’t you smile. Drunk college kids in this town tipped great! Their mommies and daddies paid for everything, and none of them had any concept of what’s too much money. He stared in question, wonder just what the hell happened to make him unable to remove his sight from you. He’d always been attracted to you. This was proven by his countless attempts to ask you out on dates only to be denied with a harsh no.

When he got closer, eavesdropping on your conversation, he saw it. It was your shirt.

You hadn’t changed it. You hadn’t adjusted it, only unbuttoning the top button to show more cleavage, something Seiko did all of the time. But that wasn’t it. It was what lay under either that thin fabric.

Your nipples were protruding out like you had been in the arctic tundra with no protection from the harsh elements. They stood attention and were thrust out slightly by the change in posture.

“Oh really?” He hummed to himself waiting on the drink order, “two can play that game.” His eyes falling to the older women he had been shamelessly flirting with all night.

****

Back and forth and back and forth, both of you attempting to outdo the other. The other waitstaff felt their restaurant was turning into a glorified strip club with the amount of skin showing and bulges resting on the edges of tables.

“Kagayama, Tanaka, Noya.” You curled your finger to draw them close. “I’ll show you my bra strap if you guys spend more time on my tables than Oikawas.”

Like golden retrievers, the three enthusiastically nodded their heads. Kagayama would have done it either way, you knew this. He hated the guy. He had watched him for so long, hoping to one day be taken under his wing and shown how to serve and get the best tips. But Oikawa ignored his request and moved along like the self centered, clogged salt shaker he was.

You took your break, albeit reluctantly, and counted your cash in the back room. Based on the large bulge of money in Oikawa's pocket, you had to have been almost one hundred dollars behind him. How?!?! You had done it all: showing more skin, Kuroo took off your bra and shoved your chest against the freezer door, you flirted and bent over farther to show off the goods. You played nice with the kids and smiled when they broke the glasses. How was he ahead of you?

You passed Oikawa as you came back. He was waiting in the back for a salad. His toe tapped furiously on the ground. Kagayama had been on salad duty for a few weeks and it was working out just fine. The customers loved how beautifully arranged they all were. The lettuce laying perfectly, the toppings strategically placed to allow the color to pop. The dressing- not too much or too little. If only the kid didn't take forever to put it together. When people ordered salads, all of the servers grumbled internally while maintaining a pure smile. It was a task and a half to get it out to them in a timely manner. Kagayama, the perfectionist, would not allow any of his masterpieces to leave without his stamp of approval, even if it meant they would waist for it. And since the person waiting to deliver was Oikawa, he gladly took his time.

When you returned to the floor, your section was bustling. You noted the new guy had helped keep your customers happy while you were gone.

“Thanks.” He was cuter up close.

This was the first time you had really been near him. He normally worked the morning shift to train. But now that you saw him up close, it was a surprise how good looking he was.

He didn’t speak, he only nodded and went back to his tables. He sure was a strange guy though. You hadn’t seen him smile, but his customers always seemed to be happy.

Kuroo summoned you to the window, “Bokuto is cooking all of Oikawa's meals tonight.” That devious smile, “the idiot has to learn somehow.”

Although this was good news, you also knew Bokuto had been improving over the course of the past few months. He had been cooking at home to practice and used you as a test subject for his concoctions. His food was nowhere near as gastronomically astronomical as Kuroos, but he was good enough to pass off as a cook now.

“Thanks.” You grabbed the plate and left.

When you saw Oikawa sneak off to the back, you made your move, quickly dropping off the plate and heading to his section to scan the people.

One table seemed happy, but Bokuto's food showed they were already not thrilled- no need to interfere there. Another table had already placed the tip and were getting up to leave. You weren’t above backhanded tactics to get better tips, but stealing tips from anyone was not your style. The older women… yes! The older women would be perfect. He had been working on them all night.

You weaved through the people and tables. Your eyes glued to your target like a heat seeking missile. “Good evening ladies.” Your smile brought comfort to them, “your server, Oikawa, will be right back. He just has to put some cream on his rash.” You bowed slightly, “is there anything I can get you while you wait for him to put some cream on his large, itchy rash?”

The collective looks spreading across each face was priceless. This young, handsome boy that had been charming them all night long was doing what?

“No thank you dear.” Her sweet voice was a bit shaky. You wondered if it was from age, or from the information they had just gained.

As you left, you saw them getting up and leaving. A quick peek to the table made your cheeks burn in excitement. Only a few measly dollars tossed to the table.

The games got dirtier and dirtier as the night went on: Oikawa spilling spaghetti on your white shirt. You bumped into him “accidentally” a few times forcing him to spill drinks and drop plates. He made comments about your girlfriend and how jealous she was that you flirted with guys at work, and you told a clearly straight man that Oikawa thought he was cute and handed him Oikawa's actual phone number.

You passed by him as he swooned some young college girls and dropped off their food. “Oikawa..” you said in a yell like whisper, “I saw you didn’t wash your hands. Go.” You pointed to the restrooms in the back and raised your brows.

The girls quickly looked down at the plates he had just had his hands all over. “Ladies, it’s just a gag. Our servers are so playful.” He growled his last word as his eyes seeded holes into your sauntering figure heading back to the other side of the restaurant.

An order up for tour section brought you back to the counter of food waiting.

You grabbed your next order and placed it in front of your customer, “anything else?”

Her face contorted as she looked down like you had placed the severed head of her mother in front of her. Once you noticed, you gasped in shock and retrieved it as quickly as possible.

“I’m so sorry!”

A rush order was placed. “Oh! An issue with the food? Kuroo is normally so good.” Oikawa snagged his order, the same order as yours and walked away. The bastard stole your food, switching the plates.

“That son of a bitch.” A snarled rumbled from the pit inside you and coiled around your larynx.

****

The end of the night had finally come. The last customer leaving with a full stomach and a smile. All of the tables were bussed, cleaned, and reset for the next day.

The cooks cleaned the grill, and the bussers did the dishes. You were assigned to vacuum the floor and the new guy, Iwaizumi mopped the hard surface. The bartenders, Tsukishima and Lev stacked clean glasses and counted his tips. No one bothered comparing their tips to them. They beat the wait staff every night- no exceptions.

Now was the moment of truth. You all gathered at the large round table as normal. All servers present. Akaashi, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Atsumu, Matsukawa, Suga, Semi, and you.

Your nerves trembled leaving your hands weak and your brain a bit cloudy. That night was busy and you weren’t so lucky as to have the more cute servers over the down right handsome ones working with you. In all honesty, you’d rather have had Tadashi, Hinata, and Kenma as the other wait staff. They were tipped well, but weren’t the type to flirt or charm. Kenma was the worst, and somehow barely trailed behind you in tips almost every time you worked together.

You saw his stack of cash and that stupid grin pointed right at you. He was such a cocky asshole and all you wanted was to hold his head under water until the bubbles stopped coming up. But instead, you aggressively counted your money.

Once finished, Daichi instructed everyone to write down how much, just like every other night. Of course, anyone could choose not to disclose the number, but the competitive nature and relationship you all shared, it came as no surprise that everyone was eager to win.

The assistant manager, Ukai, although he wouldn’t encourage this type of behavior, totally encouraged this type of behavior. Even the cooks were involved, anxiously waiting to hear who came out on top.

“Alright alright! Everyone be quiet!”

No one was talking. Just light banter while they waited. Their assistant manager was a weird guy, but he was fun and didn’t mind the games they played while on the clock.

Matsukawa started, “two hundred and fifty three dollars.” He smiled. This was a huge number for him.

Atsumu huffed and rolled his eyes. If Osamu has been working that night, the two of them easily would have beat everyone. “Two hundred and seventy eight.” He smirked.

If there was one person everyone hated just as much as Oikawa, it was Atsumu. He was just as cocky and just as much of an asshole. He made your teeth grind when he spoke.

Everyone else outed their numbers: Daichi, Akaashi, Suga. It was a shock that Akaashi didn’t get more. He was so pretty and sweet. Normally women would walk in and practically throw their wallets at him. You guessed tonight was just an off night.

It was time. Oikawas stupid smirk made you shake with rage.

“Three hundred and forty five dollars.” He slammed a pile of cash in front of him to show his earnings.

Instantly you rose to your feet and celebrated. “I did it! I finally beat that deflated volleyball! ” You screamed in celebration, “four hundred and two, you moldy cantaloupe!.”

You cheered. Kuroo coming out from the kitchen to join. The two of you danced to your own little tune, if you could even call what you we’re doing dancing. It looked more like what Beavis and Butthead did when they danced than any actual dance moves.

You turned to him to high five when his lips pressed to yours, “good job.” You blushed.

A clearing throat drew your eyes from Kuroos to the table, “four hundred and twenty two.”

“Huh?” A collective hum of confusion.

“I made four hundred and-“

“We get that!” Oikawa kicked his chair out, “but how? That table of old ladies wouldn’t leave all night.”

Iwaizumi sighed, “Those women are the wives of some crazy rich business men. Their husbands have been out on a business meeting on the other side of the globe for a few days now, so they came here to get out of the house.” He explained.

He rolled his eyes, “They commented on my arms and left me a tip of four hundred dollars. I didn’t even do anything other than wait on their table.”

When he mentioned his arms, and lifted them to show, you understood exactly why those women tipped him so well. The drool practically fell from your mouth seeing the tight muscles twitch as he moved.

“There you have it.” Ukai said getting up, “now go home and relax. And no bullshit tomorrow.” He glared both you and Oikawa down. He put out to many fires that night for his liking.

You glared at Oikawa from Kuroos strong arms, “I still beat you, you overgrown weed.”

#oikawa tooru #female reader #pranks #getting paid #beat that idiot #akaashi keiji #sawamura daichi #iwaizumi imagine #haikyuu!! #bokuto #kuroo tetsurō #shenanigans #tips #waitressing is hard

[foursprouthappiness-blog]

He Just Wanted What Was Best For Me

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/he-just-wanted-what-was-best-for-me/

He Just Wanted What Was Best For Me

God & Man

When we met, he told me how much he adored me for being so ambitious, so independent.

“You’re not like other girls. You’re so smart and strong. You’ve accomplished so much. I can actually have a conversation with you!”

I was young and I didn’t know that men who said things like this, were not men you should have around. I brushed it off because he was right. I was smart and strong, and his opinions about me didn’t matter to me. He was a witty law undergrad, and he made me laugh. I enjoyed his company. Pretty soon we were dating.

I continued being the girl he claimed to adore, only a more extreme version. I steamed ahead with my own successes, while emotionally supporting him as he quit his job to pursue his dreams. We talked about building a future together. I helped him start his dream business, a box gym, and having been a strategist at one of the biggest global gym chains, I was able to talk him through the process, step by step. Having spent much of my career coming up with names for businesses, I did the same for him. I built his brand, developed his strategy. I held him while he sobbed at night over the erratic nature of entrepreneur-life, comforted him through the fickle nature of customer retention, pulled out charts and graphs to show him that this was a predictable part of the startup phase.

“Nobody turns profits immediately,” I reassured him. “It’s going to be okay.”

I took control of the parts of the business he couldn’t, often without him knowing, because I didn’t want him to stress out further. Because I had experience that he didn’t. Because he was childlike and fragile, despite his muscle and brawn, and I wanted to protect him.

Because I wanted what was best for him.

But I wasn’t super woman. I was working a full-time job, writing books at night, maintaining my own part-time business, pursuing my own dreams. The macro- and micro-managing took its toll on me. At some point, I suggested he take over the parts of his business I was handling, or make me a partner in it. Like a strong, accomplished woman would do.

He got angry.

“I didn’t ask you to help with any of it,” he snapped.

This was the first time I felt reality tilt. I distinctly remembered him asking me to come up with a name for his gym, to find a designer to design his logo, to set up his website. Because he had never had a proper job or bank account, we ran all his digital ads through my credit card. My address was listed as the primary address on all his email servers, his Google alerts, his business and search ratings. To this day, six years post our break up, they still are. Why?

“Can you help me with this? I have no idea how to do it.”

We’d been in his car when he said it. It was a sweltering summer’s day, and we were turning into Strand Street near the Cathedral in Cape Town. I was busy putting the exchange servers for his email into his phone.

“Is it working now?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s working.”

“Thank you so much,” he replied. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, my lioness.”

That’s what he used to call me. Lioness.

On another occasion, he would interrupt me while I was at work with a phone call.

“How do I get a sign made in the shape of our logo?”

It would take me an hour to tell him which printers to go to. To ask for something called a ‘die-cut’. To choose a light wood, so that it could be mounted. I reminded him of his Pantone, so that his colors would all match up.

“Thank you, my lioness. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I never asked for your help.”

After that day, when I’d asked him for some help, some acknowledgment, he started distancing himself from me. I would hear from his friends that he’d say, “She’s just not much of a homemaker. She’s a little bit… crazy.”

He was right. I was too busy running half his business, as well as my own. Winning awards, writing a book that would go on to get four and five star reviews. Managing his emotions.

It left little time to care too much about cushions and vases. And honestly? It was making me a bit mad. I would collapse on weekends, exhausted.

“Why do you sleep so much?” he’d ask. “Are you depressed?”

Sometimes I wondered if we occupied the same reality.

He came from a wealthy family. His father had bought him his first home, and hired an interior designer to decorate it. He’d never worked three jobs. He’d never really had a proper job, to be fair. I was sympathetic. He just didn’t understand, I told myself.

I cried. A lot. Mostly on my own, but sometimes I’d cry in front of him.

“Why are you so emotional?” he started saying.

“You really shouldn’t drink that much Coke Light.”

“You look ridiculous in those glasses.”

“Are you really wearing those pants?”

He’d look at my body in a bikini, push his lips to one side.

“Hmm. I think this is the smallest you’ll get.”

I was tiny. Shrinking. Inside and out.

So small, I’d stopped questioning what was going on.

So small, I’d started believing him.

He in turn, got bigger every day, pushing heavier weights, downing Creatine protein shakes, obsessively staring at himself in mirrors.

“Maybe if I stop eating avo I can cut some calories…?” I mumbled.

But he’d tuned out, absorbed in his phone, editing pictures of himself. Choosing a filter for Instagram that would make his abs look the most cut.

“You should really stop posting pictures of yourself on the internet,” he said to me at some point. “You’re starting to look a bit vain.”

One night, on a weekend trip to attend the wedding of close friends, we were eating dinner, and he finished his food before me. Suddenly he stormed out of the room, slamming plates, doors.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t listen to you chewing anymore.”

I didn’t finish my dinner. I got into bed and stared back of his head. I hated myself for chewing so loudly that I’d pushed away the man I loved.

I resolved to chew softer. To be quieter.

Softer. Smaller.

I started speaking less and running excessively.

Ten kilometers became twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

Twice a week became three, four, five.

“Running doesn’t make you thin,” he said. “Only strength training makes you thin.”

Thin.

I’d been a runner long before I met him. Exercise had been a source of joy for me, a way for me to reconnect with my body.

“But I run because I love it.”

He’d snorted.

“Might as well not bother.”

At home, I would stare at myself in the mirror.

I’d spent much of my life dealing with body issues and eating disorders, something running had soothed and solved. Had it all been a waste of time? At lunches with his family, I’d stare at his sister’s shoulder blades, poking out of her skin like coat hangers; a tiny, delicate pterodactyl in Country Road dresses.

“Men actually find strong women sexy,” he’d say, directly contradicting himself.

His sister would peck at her food, pushing it around her plate.

“Are you really going to have another piece of cake?” he’d say to me.

I began dissociating, detaching from the endless emotional push and pull.

“I just want to help you. I just want what’s best for you,” he’d say.

I believed him. I needed help. Faced with the apparent disaster that was me, I’d cry.

I’d cry and cry and cry.

“I think you should see a psychologist,” he said. “It’s clear that you have problems. You have pain you need to deal with.”

At this point, I believed him. The pain was real.

I went to a psychologist, who told me that he was toxic, his behavior controlling. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear, though. I was the problem, I explained. So I stopped going to the psychologist. But my boyfriend did not like this.

“You really need to sort yourself out,” he said. “It’s those friends of yours, they’re a bad influence.”

I’d long lost the will to argue. I began seeing my best friend in secret.

“I’m glad you’re not hanging out with her anymore. Let’s face it, she’s a slut. You know I’m only saying this because I love you, right? Because I’m concerned for you.”

“I know,” I said, through tears. “I know.”

My gran died a month before her 99th birthday.

He didn’t come with me to the funeral. He went to gym, instead.

“I’m going for a new PB today,” he’d texted me that morning. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

When I called him on my way home, I asked if he could help me carry a chair I’d retrieved from her room in the retirement village, a keepsake by which to remember her.

He was waiting outside my apartment when I returned.

“I smashed the workout!” he said. “Record time. How was the funeral?”

I can’t remember what I said. What do you say?

Great. Awesome. There was cake. Cool party. My gran’s dead.

When we got inside, I opened the balcony door so my cat could go outside. He stepped out and found an ashtray. I’d smoked a joint a few nights earlier, with my now secret bestie, trying to ease my grief. Trying to sleep better. Trying to get by. What happened next is a blur.

He erupted into a rage. He smashed the ashtray, pushed open the door, stormed out of the house.

He yelled something, I can’t remember what. I remember feeling fear; physical, emotional. There was swearing. I tugged at his arms, he shrugged me off. I stood in front of his car as he tried to drive away. He revved his engine, me sprawled across the bonnet.

“Just talk to me,” I pleaded.

We were that couple. Neighbours peered out of their windows. After he drove away, he refused to take my calls for two weeks. When he finally did, he was the one sitting crying in my lounge.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said. “I feel like I’ve been chosen, by God. Like, this gym is my calling. I need to focus on it.”

And just like that, I realized I wasn’t the crazy person.

He still runs his gym. The other day I saw he put up a post, thanking everyone who’d helped him get to where he is. My name isn’t listed there. Like so many women who’ve built the careers of men, I’d been erased.

It’s okay. I doubt he did it maliciously.

He probably just wanted what was best for me.

#Happiness