#❝ maybe i’m not like other people ❞ —— visage

[sailortongue]

Consolation Prize

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: kenji sato doesn't handle losing well, but if your body is the consolation prize then maybe it's not so bad

wc: 2k

cw: porn with, like, a teaspoon of plot, oral (m receiving), pinv, praise, unprotected sex, breeding kink

------

You watched as the timer on the scoreboard ran out, signifying the end of the game and subsequently the Giants’ loss. It was a rare loss, one that would definitely have Kenji in a sour mood. He prided himself on being the best of the best and didn't handle losing very well, especially not to a rival team.

The ride home was a silent one. You glanced over at him in the passenger seat to see him with his hands clenched into fists and a scowl marring his visage. No matter how much you complimented his performance, he always shot your words down, going on about how he could have been better and citing instances that he felt were examples of poor decision-making. You sighed and refocused your attention on the road, opting to let him stew in his frustration. Sometimes people just need to be upset for a while to feel better.

By the time you arrived home, Kenji seemed to have calmed down, but there was still an annoyed furrow in his brows. You placed your purse on the kitchen counter before turning to him with a gentle smile and pulling him down to your level to place a sweet kiss on his forehead. With his face between your hands, you said, “I’m so proud of you, no matter the outcome of the game.”

He pulled your hands from his face and nuzzled it into your neck, placing a kiss at the juncture of your shoulder. “Keep going,” he whispered, releasing your hands and placing his own on your hips.

You swallowed thickly, trying to regain the focus he had so quickly stolen from you.

“And you’re an amazing player.” He hummed, placing another kiss higher up.

“And you’re an amazing boyfriend.” He smiled against your skin, planting another kiss against your jaw.

“And I’m so lucky to call you mine.”

That was all it took to have him surge forwards, crashing his lips onto yours. You gasped, Kenji’s sudden energy taking you by surprise. The grip he had on your hips tightened as he pulled you closer. He pushed his tongue past your lips, swallowing every sound you made in response to his actions. A tap on your legs was enough for you to take the hint. Arms draped across his shoulders, you jumped up. With you securely in his hold, he carried you out of the kitchen and to your shared bedroom. 

He wasted no time in plopping you atop the mattress, situating himself above you; he needed your lips back on his the way he needed oxygen to breathe. He lifted the hem of your shirt up and took your breasts in his hands, continuing to kiss you fervently. You moaned into his mouth, the weight of his toned body on yours a reminder of just how big he was.

He broke the kiss to fully remove your shirt, tossing it without looking or caring where it landed, but he quickly redirected his attention elsewhere. You threw your head back as he peppered kisses up the smooth column of your neck and slid his hands up your side and over your bra, cupping your breasts again and squeezing them gently. “Kenji,” you whined out, the sound of you saying his name like a sweet melody to his ears. He removed one hand and slipped it behind your back, his fingers toying with the clasp of your bra. As soon as it came undone, Kenji wasted no time ripping it from your body as well. He pulled away from you just enough to drink in the sight of your bare chest, a carnal groan rumbling from deep within his chest. 

“God, you're so perfect,” he rasped. Eyes still trained on the perfection in front of him, he pulled his own shirt over his head before reassuming his position.

He lowered his head to your chest, his lips latching onto your nipple as his left hand tweaked the other one. You gasped, arching into the warmth of your lover. Kenji had made it his personal mission to excel both on the field and off of it. If he couldn’t excel on the field today, then he would make damn sure to excel on you in the bedroom. Your breath hitched after a particularly brutal suck, your reaction causing him to chuckle against your skin and switch to the other side, his warm mouth replacing his hand. Once he felt satisfied with his ministrations, he began trailing slow, sensual kisses down your abdomen until he reached the waistband of your shorts. He brought both of his hands to the front of the material as he kissed his way back up, removing your bottoms all the while. 

The sharp sound of your zipper being pulled down cut through the sound of your heavy breathing, and your shorts were soon being guided down your legs and ultimately joining your discarded shirt somewhere on the floor. He raised himself until he was kneeling, looking down at you and reveling in the fact that you were all his. “My pretty girl,” he breathed out quietly, nearly awed into silence. His praise sent heat straight to your core, the wetness already beginning to noticeably soak through your panties. You wanted more than anything for him to bury his face between your legs, but tonight was about him. When he leaned over you to resume his ministrations, you pushed against his shoulder with one hand as you raised yourself up with the other, urging him onto his back.

You settled yourself between his legs and mirrored his actions from just a few moments ago. He watched you attentively with baited breath as you successfully tugged his pants downwards, bringing some relief to his aching cock still straining against his boxers. Before you were able to remove his pants entirely, he kicked them off himself. Impatient to feel you against him, he sat up just enough to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you back down with him. Your hands splayed against his bare chest to support yourself, and he chuckled at your shocked expression, waiting on you to make the next move. 

You trailed your hands delicately down his chest as you kissed every inch of his exposed skin that you could, making sure to leave no part of him unappreciated or neglected. You continued kissing your way down his body, his eyes trained on you the whole time. You flicked your eyes up to meet his once you leveled yourself with the bulge in his boxers. He had propped himself up on his elbows to look down at you, his mouth open in complete awe of the sight of you and his breath coming out in quick pants. “Fuck, baby, please keep going,” he whined.

You would do anything he asked so long as he begged like that. You pressed a chaste kiss to the fabric before sliding it down, his erection springing free. He hissed as the cold air enveloped his sensitive cock. You took it in your hand and stroked lightly, paying special attention to the tip. He let out a shuddering breath and then an abrupt moan as you licked the precum leaking from his swollen head.

His fingers threaded themselves through your hair as you slowly worked your way down, taking as much as you could and stroking what you couldn’t. You swirled your tongue around the girth of him, eliciting deep groans from the back of his throat. He bucked his hips involuntarily in response to the overwhelming pleasure, his body falling back against the mattress as you drained out his strength to support himself. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as the heavenly feeling of your mouth on him had stars bursting behind his eyelids like fireworks.

“So good baby, so so good,” he praised, unable to focus on anything but the all-consuming sensations you were giving him. You felt him twitch in your mouth, indicating just how close he was to cumming down your throat. His imminent orgasm seemed to send him back to reality. He tugged your hair with just enough force to get his message across, and you pulled back with a pop, looking at him with a questioning expression.

“Take your panties off and get on top of me, sweetheart. I wanna cum in your sweet pussy. Gonna make you a mommy.” You did as he said, and he sat up, pulling you with him until you were situated in his lap, your cunt hovering just above where he wanted you most. He lined himself up with your entrance, his other hand placed firmly on your thigh. You slowly sunk down on him, the stretch making you wince. “Such a good girl f’me,” he encouraged, his words starting to slur together a bit. “Doing so well.”

You continued to lower yourself onto his cock, your eyes half-lidded as the sensation of being so full set every nerve alight. Once he bottomed out inside out you, neither of you moved for a moment, pausing to get accustomed to each other’s bodies.

With your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance, you slowly raised yourself up before dropping back down. Kenji grunted and splayed his hands across your hips. Again and again and again, you dropped your weight onto his lap, and each time you did he bucked up into you, not content with letting you do all the work. 

But soon your legs grew tired and you couldn’t keep up the pace. “Kenji,” you whined pitifully. He knew what you wanted and obliged instantly. He flipped you onto your back, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to pump deep inside you, his pace unforgiving. You chanted his name like a mantra, and it only seemed to spur him on. “Want me to cum inside you? Wanna make me a daddy? Hmm?”

“God, yes, Kenji, p-please . . . please don't stop,” you babbled, hardly even aware of what you were saying or who you were anymore as his cock drilled into your tight cunt.

He pulled your legs from his waist and pushed them up so that your knees were hooked over his shoulder, and he was able to push himself in even farther. He continued his brutal pace and you clenched around him, forcing a grunt to fall past his pretty lips. The room was full of the symphony of your shared pleasure, the sounds only adding to the lust you were feeling for one another. 

You were gasping for air, the sight of the man above you nearly enough to make you combust right then and there. “I’m so close, Kenji,” you huffed out breathlessly.

“I know, baby, me too, and—oh fuck—and you're going to take every last drop.”

He pressed a thumb onto your clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub. Between that and his cock thrusting in and out of you, you were quickly pushed over the edge, the walls of your pussy clenching tightly around Kenji’s cock, bringing him over with you and causing a ring of white to form around the base of him, both of you calling out each other’s names in your ecstasy.

He stilled inside you as you both gradually came down from your highs, panting heavily. He pulled his softening cock from you, and his cum dripped out now that he was no longer keeping it trapped in. You were thoroughly worn out and barely awake, your eyes drooping shut. A soft smile spread across Kenji’s features as he got up to retrieve a cloth from the adjacent bathroom. He got you cleaned up and plopped back down beside you, tenderly pulling the sheets over your naked figures. He pulled you against his chest securely where you fell asleep almost as soon as you closed your eyes, content to be in the safety of your lover’s arms.

As Kenji lay there holding your sleeping form against his, his thoughts drifted to the ring he had stashed away in his nightstand, his own eyes closing as his smile grew a little.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

blushing birthday

a/n: iihhh! first story in this slutty au! felt like this was a good place to jump off from. and also, i just wanna point this out because i nearly never do and perhaps some people don’t realise it, but if you have a thought, an idea, a wish or request in this au (or any other, my inbox is always open for requests) then feel free to click on my ask button and send it my way ♡

summary: “so, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

warnings: various x camgirl!reader, smut, porn au, college au, roommate!bucky barnes, roommate!steve rogers, roommate!curtis everett, ex!ransom drysdale, dilf neighbour!andy barber, reader's porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), friends with benefits, happy hippie fun poly vibes, curtis’ birthday, partying, alcohol consumption, kissing, masturbation, impact play, fingering, toys, edging, clothed sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, anal, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 3953

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

The last rays of sunshine for the day streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and cast soft shadows across your form as you sat cross-legged on your mattress. 

With your reach outstretched towards your laptop propped up on the chair situated at the foot of your bed, you clicked on the go live button and watched as a countdown appeared on the screen, overlaying your visage staring back at you as your gaze briefly flickered around to check your gear one last time. 

Thanks to your three roommates who’d insisted on helping you upgrade your setup, there wasn’t just one, but two cameras pointing directly at you. One angle to catch all of your frame and one zoomed-in to capture a perfect close-up between your legs. 

“Hey guys!” a warm smile swiftly dazzled your features as you watched the first few people jump at your notification, “good evening or good–, whatever time of day it is for you.” 

The messages in the chat started rolling in, some with usernames you recognised and some you didn’t. 

TheFrogo: Hi Cherry! How are you? Have you had a good day so far?

DrownByPussy: Omg you’re finally live! I’ve been hard all day knowing I’d get to see you today.

“Hi Frogo, yeah, I’ve had a pretty good day, but I’m hoping that it might get even better, because I’ve got something pretty fun planned for tonight,” your hands absentmindedly fidgeted along the length of your legs as you spoke, “so, today is a friend of mine’s birthday and–, wait,” you paused and leaned in closer to catch a better look of the scrolling messages, “I haven’t seen you write in the chat yet, but birthday boy, if you’re here, you better log off right now or you’ll ruin your surprise,” you warned, glancing straight into the camera, “I’ll give you five seconds get off,” a pointer finger then kissed each of your digits as you counted down, “five… four… three… two… one,” you squinted a moment longer before a giggle bubbled out, “okay, so now that it’s just us, I can tell you what I’ve got planned,” you switched up your seat, moving your legs to comfortably kneel on the mattress with your frame slightly turned at an angle for you to better see the screen, but retroactively grant everyone a view of the curve of your spine as the line swooped down over your waist and blossomed into the plush of your ass, sinfully on display in the pastel blue, mesh lingerie you wore, “there is one thing in particular that he has just been begging for… any guesses?”

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Hmm… is it a particular fantasy? A little bit of roleplay action? 

8inchStallion: Threesome? 

“Nope. All fun suggestions, but no.”

TittyCokeKingXXX: Is it to bang in public?

Cream314159: How about anal? 

“Cream! Yes! You guessed it!” you excitedly threw your hands up in the air, “it is anal that he’s been dreaming about.”

Ddadddy6969: I mean, who can blame him.

ItsBradBtch: Fucking same.

TearinYoBootyUp: Wish it was my birthday today so you’d let me fuck your tight little ass.

“So, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

KyleKyleson: Yes!

UrPervyDaddy398: Hell yeah, let’s get you ready to take that monster cock.

Casting a glance out of the nearby window, your eye couldn’t help but catch sight of the neighbouring house. It didn’t look like the divorced dad who resided there was home, though you still nevertheless searched for him. You weren’t completely clueless to his infatuation with you, though it had almost turned into a game, always trying to catch him peeping at you through the windows, or even taking it further by purposely wearing something skimpy when you’d go get the mail or other activities where you would know you’d bump into him. You didn’t judge him to be the type of man to ever really do anything about it, to actually reach out and grasp a wet dream of a girl so much his junior, but the teasing had become too much fun for you to stop, you were too far gone to draw the curtains closed now. 

As a quiet jingle sounded from your speakers, indicating that someone had tipped you, your gaze flickered back towards the computer screen. 

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Is that the underwear set I bought you off your wishlist? You look even more gorgeous in it than I imagined.

“Oh, thanks A,” you let your palms graze down over the thin mesh, feeling your pussy clench as your touch brushed over your nipples poking through the baby blue material, “yeah, it is. It matches the dress I’m planning on wearing tonight, so I thought I’d be cute.”

Call_Me_Sir_844: Turn around, Cherry. Let us see it from the back.  

“Yes, sir, of course,” you chuckled lightly before shifting around, purposely arching your back as you glanced over your shoulder. 

729AlwaysHard: How is your ass even real?

Like1OfUrFrenchGrls: Damn, that butt is just begging for a spanking.

Raking your touch down your sides, you smirked, “oh, you want me to spank my ass?” before the jingle of a tip echoed from the computer, “alright, baby,” and like a cat, your frame scooped down, gliding on to all fours and sticking your bottom high up in the air, “how many do you think? Let’s say, highest tipper gets to decide, but please, be kind, I still have to be able to dance the night away tonight.”

TittyCokeKingXXX tipped $50 – 10 spanks, with a paddle

BootyLover47 tipped $35 – 4 spanks

MrHansen tipped $100 – 6 spanks 

“Thank you guys,” you wiggled playfully for them, “and Mr. Hansen, wow, thank you so much!” you squeaked ecstatically, “well, I guess I better start counting then.” 

After each smack your palm landed on your propped-up bottom, the coinciding number rolled off your lips till your ass was tingling and sore for all your viewers to see. 

WinterIsCumming: Fuck, just seeing your little pussy through those panties… they’re soaked, aren’t they?

Gliding a hand down between your legs, your fingertips ghosted over the sheer fabric that clung to your core.

“They are, Winter,” you blinked up at the camera, “man, I wish you were here to give me a hand.”

NastyBoi: Show us that pretty little pussy, come on, don’t be shy now.

“You want me to take my underwear off for you? Take them off so that I can really play?”

And with the chimes of tips swiftly ringing in your ears, one of your fingers then hooked in the gusset and carefully peeled it to the side, letting it act as a frame as you momentarily teased them with just a glimpse of your glistening folds, before you slowly slid them off completely. 

Eventually, after your slick digits had gotten a chance to warm you up and tease you till you were practically buzzing on both of the camera angles that now displayed you, as it hadn’t taken you very long till you switched to a split screen, both your face frozen in a silent moan and your pretty holes drooling for attention pressed up against one another, side by side on the stream, your fingers then reached for a toy, the pretty glass dildo you had picked out just before the show.

You first popped the toy in your mouth as you flipped around and relaxed back against your pile of pillows. Letting your gaze flicker over the downright filthy comments rolling across the screen, you sucked on the toy for a bit before pulling it out and letting it float down south. 

“Fuck,” your eyes fluttered slightly as you rubbed the tip gently against your little rosebud, “oh, that feels so good.” 

Cream314159: Yeah, Cherry, tease that little ass like a good slut.

8inchStallion: Fuck, you’re gonna make me blow my load soon if you keep looking like that. 

Ddadddy6969: Has your fuck buddy really never had your ass before? Tbh kinda hard to believe considering what a whore you are for all of us. I love your anal shows, they’re always my favourite. 

“I know, daddy,” a light giggle tore through your form, “I’m honestly kinda surprised as well, but no, it hasn’t happened yet.” 

BongDong420: Wait, are you an anal virgin? Plot twist. 

“No, no, I’m not, I love anal,” you sucked in a gentle gasp as you let just the tip of the toy breach your tight opening, “I just haven’t really done it yet with too many different people. Actually, I’ve only done it with one so far, now that I think about it,” you swiftly shook your head and forced your eyes to flicker to the messages to rid your thoughts of your ex. 

Call_Me_Sir_844: Please open your mouth, I’m gonna cum!

“Oh, yes, please cum for me, sir,” you answered the comment and then let your lips part wide. As your tongue stuck out as well, a string of saliva soon dripped down as you waited, the spit colliding with your tits and running down your cleavage. 

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer tipped $550 – Don’t let yourself cum. Edge yourself so that you can be all drippy and dumb for him like a good little present should be. 

Since you and your roommates lived in a residential area too quiet for college ragers, some of the guys Steve and Bucky were on the football team with offered to throw the bash at their fraternity. 

Music blared, nearly making the entire house rumble, as you walked around the place, searching for the one of your roommates who the party was in honour of. 

Fiddling lightly with the hem of your silky dress as you peeked into the room where a rowdy game of beer pong was afoot, you still felt a little dizzy as desperation soaked through your ruined panties. 

Though, as you checked the kitchen, a bulky frame bumped into you, though it wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill frat boy, incapable of watching where they went, it was the very last person you wished to lay your eyes upon. 

“Y/n, hey,” the trust fund kid caught your arm before you could slip away. 

“Ransom,” you couldn’t help but clench your jaw as you tried to free yourself of his hold, “hello.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” you nearly scoffed as you squinted up at him, “it’s my roommate’s birthday party.” 

“Right, forgot you moved in with all of them, became just one of the boys…” as a beat of silence fell over him, he let his gaze then rake over your form, lapping up the soft blue material that draped across your curves, “you look good tonight, by the way.”

“I–…” your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a sigh, “Ransom, can we not? Just for tonight, can we not do all of this? Just let me be here, celebrate my friend, and then after that, if you so wish, we can get back to our regularly scheduled program. Just one night of peace, that’s all I’m asking for.”

His dark brows then furrowed as he cocked his head, “babe, come on–”

Cutting him off with a scoff, you spat, “I haven’t been your babe since you broke up with me.”

He had been all for landing a girl that was essentially a wet dream come true when it came to all of the sinful areas you were itching to explore with him, but what hadn’t been a part of his plans was having a girlfriend who wasn’t exclusively a slut for him and him alone. He’d told you to choose between him and your dirty little hobby, but to his surprise, you hadn’t even hesitated when you didn’t choose him. 

A low sigh then puffed from his lungs, “fine.”

Heatedly ripping your arm free, you echoed, “fine,” before turning on your heel and exiting the kitchen. 

Luckily, your search didn’t drag on too much further before you stumbled upon your celebrated friend. 

“There you are!” you exclaimed, your voice ushering Curtis’ head to twist in your direction, his glance shifting from the pool table before him. 

“Baby!” he swiftly threw open his inked arms and pulled you close, “hey!”

Hearing the heavy balls clank around on the table, you asked, “are you in the middle of a game or could I steal you away for a sec?”

“Nah, not this round,” he withdrew only ever so slightly, letting one of his arms stay draped over your shoulders, “what do you need?”

Pulling him with you in the direction of the wide staircase, you smirked, “I just have a present to give you…”

“Another one?” he blinked as you dragged him up the steps. 

“Well, you deserve the world, so yes, you get another one this year,” you offered him a warm smile. 

“Man,” he exhaled as you reached the upper level, “happy birthday to me,” a smirk spread across his features as he willingly let you push him into one of the rooms. 

It was a study room filled with long communal desks, tall bookcases and velvet armchairs. It was also, thankfully, vacant of any other partygoers. 

“Happy birthday, Curtis,” you didn’t waste any time, the door barely managed to slam behind you, before you yanked him in for a kiss. 

It took him a second before he caught up with your sudden actions, but as soon as he did, a gentle giggle rumbled from his intoxicated form and vibrated against your lips as he enveloped his long arms around your frame. 

Feet shuffling, your roommate soon bumped into one of the tables, lending him to half sit on it as you let your touch rake down his figure. Even with the swift and determined pace your desperation drove you to have, it still didn’t take that long for Curtis to be on the same page as you, and when your palm fluttered down to cup him through his pants, the tent twitched beneath your touch. 

At first, when you then withdrew from the kiss, Curtis instinctively followed your disappearing lips till he noticed your knees buckling as you sank down onto the floor. 

“This is so much better than losing at pool,” he gazed down at you between his thighs, nearly hypnotised as you tugged at his zipper.

“I’d sure hope so,” you nearly scoffed as you freed him of his binds, not hesitating to lean in and swipe your tongue silkily against the very tip of him as soon as you had the chance, “although, you know I never mind being a consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize?” his tone filtered through a soft groan as your fist enclosed around his base, twisting slightly as it jerked up to graze your mouth, “that’s not what you were last week.”

“Yeah, but that was different,” your giggle vibrated against him, “it’s okay, baby. Maybe next time we play at home you’ll get to win and show the others who’s boss,” you purred before your lips enveloped fully around his fat girth. 

When spit and slobber soon bubbled out and dripped down onto your chest from your efforts, you got back up to your feet. As you let the back of your palm wipe a bit of the mess from your chin, you twisted your frame around and let your spine melt back against this broad chest. 

As you felt Curtis’ fingers dig into your dress and hike it up, you rolled your hips back against him, nearly dizzy with want. Gliding a hand down between your thighs, you captured the sodden material, utterly ruined and clinging to your core, before you yanked it to the side, the leaky mess not yet ready to let go of the panties and spiderwebbing to where you pulled it to the side.  

Reaching around, your grip captured his cock once again as you tilted him to teasingly brush through your folds, your activities from earlier made it almost pathetic how sloppy you got him in a matter of seconds. 

As his lips pressed to your cheek in a hot kiss, you glanced over your shoulder to catch his eye and take in his reaction.

You didn’t warn him, nor say anything at all. Only a smirk glimmered on your lips as a forewarning before you led him away from the leaky entrance he naturally assumed you’d let him into, and instead arched your back and eased his slicked-up length into somewhere else. 

“Oh–, holy shit,” his eyes flickered down to affirm what you were doing before blinking up at you in the assumption that it was a mistake, “baby, you’re–”

“I know,” you smiled at the way his chest heaved at the realisation. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

“Told you I had another present for you,” your gloating grin softened at the moan that slipped out as you sank down just a little further upon his dick. 

His fingers dented both sides of your hips as you slowly let him feel more of you, “oh my god, you’re the fucking best…” 

It was shallow at first, gentle as you controlled the pace, though still mind-meltingly intense as you fucked back against him till your knees began to wobble, feeling each and every little detail of his stretch your little ass out. 

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face between the lazy pecks he planted there and occasionally veering further south to try and mark your neck up with his bites. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you whimpered when one of his inked arms snaked around to your front and stretched down to rub your clit, swollen and throbbing between the pads of his rough fingers. 

Since you’d backed away from the edge not too long before, its overwhelming return was swift and quickly rendered you a shivering mess in his arms as your rhythm came to a rest and the tight circles he drew over your puffy pearl pushed you into insanity. 

Eyes still shut as you were panting for breath, you felt Curtis pluck up your chin and tilt it so that his lips could seize yours. 

Though the blissful pause didn’t last very long before he manoeuvred you around, manhandling you into a new configuration, though all the while never slipping his cock out. 

His palm was heavy against your back as he whirled you around and bent you over the table. Cheek smooshed against the smooth wooden surface, the thunderous snap his hips then offered caused the desk to rattle beneath you. 

However, just as you sensed him begin to lose himself, burying his cock so deep inside of you that it caused you to see stars, the creaking sound of the door to the study swinging open sliced through the lewd harmonies already filling the room.

Even though you couldn’t really glance over your shoulder to see who it was that entered, the recognisable voices that then found your ears calmed your worries about why Curtis’ pace for some reason hadn’t slowed down in the slightest. 

“No, I’m not kidding, that’s really what–, oh,” Bucky’s sentence paused as soon he spotted you, “hello you two.”

You attempted to tilt your head against the table as the last of your roommates came into view, shut the door behind them and stepped closer. 

As you reached out a wobbly hand to grasp Steve’s, he sweetly caught it in his and chuckled at your cock drunk visage, “hey.”

“Hmm–, hi…” you attempted to greet them, Bucky swiftly bending down to briefly be at your height, letting his fingers brush some of your hair out of your face as Curtis’ efforts jolted your frame against the table at every feverish thrust. 

“Was wondering where you guys were,” Steve held onto your hand a little longer as his glance met the blissful gaze of the man who was balls deep inside of you, “I thought she already gave you her little present.”

“You knew?” Curtis tilted his chin, to which you tried to explain with a mumble, though one of your roommates didn’t hesitate to playfully ask you to clarify.

“I’m sorry what was that? You’re being too much of whore right now for me to understand you,” Bucky pressed a peck to your brow before straightening back up, “look, I would have totally told you man, but she threatened us not to ruin the surprise.” 

“Yeah, said that if you didn’t get to take a dip first, then none of us ever would,” Steve added. 

“Aw,” you felt Curtis kneed your bottom as he slammed into you, “you’d really have done that?”

“I did say you deserve the world, so yeah,” you managed to squeak. 

“It’s so cute how sappy birthdays make you,” Bucky smirked, “such a shame not one of us even hesitates to exploit it.” 

As one hand stayed glued to the curve of your ass, his thumb hooked in your underwear to grant not only him but the rest a perfect view of just how well you took him, Curtis’ other hand then stretched out to grasp the half-empty beer that Steve handed him, briefly taking a swig before handing it back. 

“Yeah, she really is just such a good little girl, aren’t you?” Steve found a seat on one of the nearby chairs. 

“Mhm…” you barely caught sight of how both of them palmed themselves for an ounce of relief. 

Sitting down as well, Bucky squinted cockily back at you as your hazy eyes briefly caught his, “what was that, sweetheart?”  

“I’m a–,” you blubbered as Curtis’ cock stretched you so wide that you even felt it press against the sweet spots in your throbbing pussy, “I’m a g-good girl–”

“Yes, you are, baby, that’s right,” Curtis chuckled warmly behind you before offering your ass a swift slap, “the fucking best.”

“Oh, oh! She’s so close to cumming, I can see it!” Bucky exclaimed in an almost mocking tone as your eyes began to roll, “just look at that face,” he nearly jumped to get closer, “so fucking pretty.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Steve leaned back in his seat and squeezed his hard-on as he stared at your fucked out form, “give us a good show. Make it good for the birthday boy.” 

Although, unfortunately, you were already too far gone by then to take any of their lewd comments into account as you tumbled over the edge, floating in the sea of your cheering roommates as a soundtrack. 

After your friend had emptied himself into your haven, he simply slid your panties back into place so that his cum could leak out of you for the rest of the party and ruin your sheer underwear completely, perhaps even give up entirely and run down your shaky legs for all to see.

Bending down to smother you back to life with kisses, you also felt Curtis’ arms tangle around you as he hugged you and slowly lifted you off of the table. 

“You wanna go down and dance?” his low timbre tickled the shell of your ear. 

“Just give me a second,” you breathed through your hazy smile as you fought to blink your eyes back open, “my legs will first have to start working again. Maybe you could take over the music for a second and queue up something slow,” you light-heartedly suggested with an airy chuckle. 

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Bucky smirked from across the table, “we’ll help keep you upright.” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[komaniyaexpress]

— is this .. me?! .. ♪

sagau — they find a piece of artwork made by the creator; of .. them.

— featuring furina, wanderer, freminet, and neuvillette .. ♪

cw. none wc. 200-400 ea.

furina

it goes without saying .. furina is ecstatic. i mean.. why wouldn’t she be? she wouldn’t make this known, however, because “of course you’re going to wish to capture my enthralling beauty on paper — it’s only fair when faced with such divine radiance!” inside.. she’s a mess. her widened eyes flit over every tiny detail, every little stroke of the pen or paintbrush. “enthralling beauty”, she says, “divine radiance”, she says — but is she truly talking about herself or the way you interpreted her? never in all the centuries she’d been alive would she admit this, but she couldn’t help but feel as if you had made her look much more ethereal than she truly was. she does make it known that she likes it, though. when you turn away from her and murmur something about how you’re not the most proud of this particular piece, she scoffs indignantly. “what? how— ugh, how could you ever say such a thing? do you dare question my judgement?!” she leans back against the couch, hardly able to focus on the taste of the small pastry half-eaten in her hand. she’s incredibly grateful it’s only you two alone, because she has an entirely embarrassing blush upon her face as she chews.

wanderer

“.. seriously?” he kind of just.. glares at it. i’m sorry, but i don’t really know what you were expecting. depending on the kind of mood he’s in, he’ll either simply cast it aside without a second glance or attempt to mockingly chew you out over it. it doesn’t matter whether he actually likes it or not; he is not going to let you live it down. he’s not amused, but i can’t really imagine him actually getting upset about it either. he’ll scoff, maybe roll his eyes if he’s feeling generous enough, then go about his day without another thought to it. even with his nonchalant, near-annoyed demeanor over the whole thing, when you’ve left and he’s alone — he looks for it again and stares at it like he didn’t get to before. as his eyes travel the lines that form a quite accurate depiction of his visage — implying you spent a lot of time looking at him — he can’t help but wonder why, of all people, you chose him as your muse. he does.. appreciate the sentiment, though, even if he’ll never voice it. he catches himself before he spirals. it doesn’t matter, he reminds himself. with a huff, he sets it down again and crosses his arms, trying to ignore the fact it does indeed make him feel.

freminet

if you were expecting anything other than freminet being an absolute mess.. you’d be sorely mistaken. of course, he’s not upset at all. he’s just.. very, very embarrassed. he loves your art, he does. he doesn’t want you to misconstrue this, and makes sure you know it’s not your problem, but his own. make sure to reassure him. the moment he lays his eyes upon it, it’s evident; his eyes widen almost comically, and, suddenly, he has the surely inexplicable urge to run for his life. that wouldn’t be fair to you, though, so he bites it back and forces himself to stay put. the gears whir in his mind like he’s a piece of the machinery he holds so dear. he doesn’t know how to thank you — should he thank you? he doesn’t know what to say at all, more like. he clears his throat, unable to get any words out; his mouth goes dry and his heart practically beats out of his chest, all the while he’s looking just as frozen in time as your rendition of him. he lets out an audible sigh of relief when you reassure him that he doesn’t need to speak. he can’t handle you when you stare at him like this, and asks if you’d be okay with him putting on his diving helmet. once you’ve given him your permission — which you reiterate he doesn’t need — he quickly places it over his head, letting out a soft sigh of relief when you can no longer see his face. his gaze doesn’t leave the art, not for a moment. he stands still and stares at it, unable to tear his eyes away from the lines that, somehow, paints a clear picture of.. him. that you made. he still does not make any move to talk, and he’s very glad that you’re so understanding. eventually, he murmurs an apology, and through the lump in his throat, reassures you that (if there was ever any doubt), he likes it.

neuvillette

it was raining. it had been raining all day. naturally, this worried you, and your first thought was to check up on neuvillette. exhausted yet unchanging, neuvillette sifted through his paperwork without taking a single break to rest. however, all things must, and eventually, his tire overcame him — letting out a sigh, he placed his palm upon his forehead and leaned into it, his eyes fluttering closed. it took him a moment to open them again, but when he finally did.. after such a long day, eyes sore with the strain of reading fine print jammed together so thickly the pages looked more inky than ivory, the last thing he expected was to see was a piece of blank paper on his desk. curious, he picks it up and flips it over, assuming it to be more writing on the other side — only to be met with.. himself, staring right back at him. the neuvillette now is slightly slouched over, eyes drooping with the weight of an unrelenting week. he’s unable to see his true reflection — in a mirror or water, not a near-perfect version of him on paper — so he couldn’t really tell, but even so, he can’t help but feel as if this version of him must appear much more composed. he pushes the thought away, stares at the piece a bit closer, and he eases a bit. not only was it a splendid break to the monotony of monochromatic paperwork, it was made by you. it’s now that you walk into the room. in a split second, you realize what he’s holding. you blink. he smiles, gentle and soft. the rain stops pouring.

[momolady]

Art the Orc

If you live in a small town, maybe you'll know this place. It's a little art store run by the same family for ages. It's not changed in all that time either. Picture it, feel it, you know it's the only place that sells that one supply you like. Now, imagine an orc behind the counter. Female Reader x Male Monster

The visage of the old place looked like it had once been a gas station. There was one of those big metal awnings and signs that gas pumps had once been outside. But everything else looked like the art supply store it was. The window was painted, done up with flowers and a flourishing font, but it hadn’t been touched in ages and was chipping and weathering away.

The old place had seen better days, you could tell. But you were excited to tackle such a special project with your own two hands.

Inside the place had a familiar smell of paint thinner, book pages, and coffee. You looked around the front as the bells on the door chimed. The old floor had seen better days and was worn out where you stood, even the welcome mat was hard to read.

“Welcome to Greengold Creative Station,” the deep voice came from behind the front desk where there was an open door. ‘I’ll be out with you in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you replied. You continued to look around, noting the mismatched shelving and thrown together renovations dotting the place.

A moment later, a large orc came from the back. He was wearing thick glasses and had on a corded cardigan that covered a paint splattered t-shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

You approached the front desk again, extending your hand to him. “Hi! You must be Mr. Greengold, I’m from Regency Renovations.”

There was a surprised look upon his face as he shook your hand. “You’re the renovator?”

You smiled, half expecting some reservation based on your appearance. “I specialize in business and storefront renovations. That is what you wanted, correct, Mr. Greengold?”

He fumbled with his words for a moment, stuttering, touching his glasses until he spoke. “Call me Art, please.”

You held it in, but he knew where your mind went.

“It’s short for Arthur, but it's also my dad’s name so my mom calls me Art. Yes, I know, ha ha, very fun. A man named Art runs the art store.”

“It’s an easy target.” You tried to squash your giggling but a few came out.

He sighed and shook his head. “So, you’ll be handling the whole store. I want it updated completely. It was fine for my parents, but I need to bring in a new generation of artists and online shopping is destroying us.”

“It’s a common issue, Art,” you didn’t look at him as you said his name. “I already have some ideas brewing and I would be happy to discuss your thoughts for the business with you.”

He sighed heavily, gazing out at a store that was once his family’s legacy. “I would say I would like to keep some of what my parents did to this place, but I don’t think any of it is salvageable.”

“Well recycling is a thing.” You replied. “Like some of these old shelves, the wood can be reused to create a rustic facade for the front desk here.” You patted the worn out formica top. “And the vintage signage out from can be reused and framed, hung just right behind you there.”

Art made a face. “You can do all that.”

You returned his face, adding a smug smile to it. “I can do lots of things, Art. My father was a carpenter and my mother was a viper. Be careful of what you inflict about me.” You patted your chest proudly. You knew you were small and chubby, not many people expected much out of you, but your work spoke for itself. And that was how you told people off.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot riding on this so-”

“So you hired the best. That I can promise you. Now I know you said you didn’t have a lot of funds, but I already have my plans made for how to help you with that. I plan on doing most of the work on my own, but for heavy lifting and other things-”

“I don’t mind helping with that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You had planned to bring in your brother for help, he enjoyed the destruction part of your job and he worked for free food. “Well uh…if you’d like Art, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job. It would be best if I helped out,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being kind or underestimating you again, so you brushed it off and continued. “I would also like to film the process of the renovation. Stuff like that will help reach your new audience.”

He frowned, and his thick brows pinched together. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. You’d be surprised what the kids these days are watching.” You smirked up at him. “I know what I am doing, Art. Have some faith.”

His face read: easier said than done.

Discussion and planning was always the hard bit. You had to convince your employer of what needed to be done. Art was hesitant about some things, after all it was a family business and a place he had grown up in. But for the most part he was willing to go along with some of your ideas.

Art started the clean up process by first putting away his stock and setting most of the mismatched shelves outside. Once that was taken care of you began ripping up the old carpet and ancient linoleum.

“I remember when my dad put that stuff down,” Art said from behind you.

You looked up, eyes covered by goggles and mouth surrounded by one of those thick industrial masks. “Oh really?”

Art gave you a look. “Is all that necessary?”

“You’d be surprised.” You stacked another chunk of the linoleum to the side. “Lots of debris and who-knows-what is under these old floors. Decades of dirty shoes, dust, skin, and life are stored here.”

Art’s grimace deepened. “Skin?”

“Oh yeah, we shed like mad,” you laughed. “If you have dust in your house you can be assured it came from you!”

Art looked perturbed by this revelation but he continued in moving stock to the back and other store property outside.

Once the flooring was removed, you accessed what was underneath. It wasn’t marble or granite, but it was some type of stony tile that had existed when it was a gas station.

“Mom said it was inhospitable.”

You used a dust cloth to clean off a bit of the flooring. “But it’s easy to clean, and it’ll make the whole place appear brighter and bigger.” You turned and looked back at him, taking off the goggles. “It’ll be so much better in the long run. Plus! You won’t have to buy anything new except maybe a rug or two if you wanted.”

Art’s pinched brow was becoming the norm to see, but you could tell it was because the gears behind it were working so hard to process everything going on.

Once the tiles were cleaned and all the old flooring was hauled off to the dump, you started working on the walls, taking down slapdash shelving, and anything else hanging up. The old paint job, or jobs really, were layered on so thick and hadn’t been properly done. They had painted over the trim and electrical outlets, all of which needed to be replaced. The holes in the walls needed fixing too, and there were a few dents and scrapes from the years.

“You’re not hiring a painter?” Art asked one day.

You zipped up your coveralls and turned around to face him. “Not unless you want to shell out twice the money. Besides, I’m a good painter. A great painter even! Maybe not Rembrandt or anything, but I can handle a roller better than most.”

Art looked over your paint supplies. After days of you working on freeing the electric sockets and scraping the excess from the trim you could finally start working. You were painting the wall white, but you had found cheap sticker tiles to create a great accent wall, which could then be used for photo opportunities and special displays. Then another wall would also be painted white and used to display local artists and projects from the art class that Art taught.

“Mom always wanted to put wallpaper up,” Art murmured. “But said it wouldn’t be practical with everything we needed to hang up.”

There was a melancholy to Art’s face and tone as he said this. “What kind?” You asked as you poured your paint into the tray. “We could always find something close to what she had in mind for the office.”

Art glanced over his shoulder then shook his head. “I doubt I could afford it. I tried looking already.”

You put the roller into the paint, sliding it back and forth until it wasn’t too soupy. “Was this place your mom’s idea?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze going all about the store. “I can’t believe how empty it is now.”

“It’ll be full again in no time.” You gave him a reassuring smile when his amber eyes returned to you. “Do you have any pictures of your mother you would want to hang up?” you asked. “I can plan a special place for it.”

He huffed, seeming put off by this suggestion. “Excuse me. The smell of this paint is giving me a headache.” He walked off, stomping his feet a little as he went.

Art came back by the time you were finished with the first coat of white. You were sitting in front of the checkout desk, leaned back against it so your foot propped the door open. He stepped over your leg and looked at your work.

“The white really makes this place look…different,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, there will be some color back soon enough,” you sighed. “Is your headache gone?”

Art nodded, leaning against the desk. “Sorry if I’ve been…obstinate.”

You waved it off. “I’m used to you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been questioning and judging everything, all because I never really wanted to do this.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then why are you?”

He let out that heavy, burdened sigh again. “Because it was in her will.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh.”

“She left me money, but only if I used a portion of it to renovate the old store. She said it was mine after all, it deserved to reflect the new generation. Even in death she was still hinting I get married.” He scoffed at this, but he still had a smile on his face.

“Sounds pretty motherly.” You stood up from the ground, standing beside him. Not feeling much taller than you did sitting beside his great size. You motioned to the front window. “Did she paint that?”

Art laughed. “No. I did. That’s why she kept it so long.”

Your smile beamed. “Really? That’s pretty adorable.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “For years upon years I’ve looked at that painting and wished every day she would wash it off and do something different. But I suppose her sentimentality was far too deep for that.”

“It’s a good painting,” you offered.

“I never thought she’d keep it so I barely tried,” he grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Would you like to paint the new display? I was planning on just hanging a new sign and leaving the window clean.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

You patted his arm, and his eyes darted down to your hand, his brows unpinching for that one moment.

“I’ll wait till you decide then.” You stepped away from him, but his eyes still lingered on where you had touched him.

A few days later, as you were working on putting the sticker tile onto the wall, Art came from the back and offered you a ticket.

“A friend of mine has a gallery showing tonight. He gave me two tickets so I thought-” He hesitated and cleared his throat.

“How fancy is the affair?” You asked.

“Nothing too fancy. I mean, dress up, but not like black tie event or anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I was going to get dinner at my favorite restaurant since it was close by if you wanted to come.”

It clicked and you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed and your mouth started to go dry. “Oh. Sure.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “If that’s the case, maybe we should go in together. You know? Save the earth and stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Smart idea. How about I pick you up tonight. Say…around six? Since the gallery is at eight?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip. “Yeah. Perfect. That should give me enough time to get ready after work.”

Art turned awkwardly away then back towards you. “Oh I uh, I guess I should get your address.” You traded info and the rest of the day went by in a jerky, tense sort of way.

That evening you waited in your living room until you heard from Art. You were wearing your favorite dress, and had even gotten your next door neighbor to do your makeup. You got his message and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

Art was dressed nice in a dark purple suit and he had his long hair slicked back and tied into a bun. He didn’t have on his glasses, which surprised you. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Wow, you look great!” He said, a touch breathless.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks. You look pretty great too. I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yeah, contacts tonight,” he said shyly. He then took your hand and led you to his car.

The restaurant was nice, the two of you had a clumsy start to it, but eventually you both started having an in depth conversation about color. From there, you both laughed and joked around, having a good time with great food and even better wine.

From there you walked to the gallery, meeting his friend then roaming through the show. Her artwork was lovely, but you noticed Art’s pinch brow had returned.

“A lot more nudes than I expected,” he whispered.

“I think it’s nice,” you replied. “I can see what her intent with the motif is. How it’s classic, it's natural, but also subversive.” You turned to Art, noticing him fidgeting and adjusting himself.

“Yes. I understand what she is doing,” he muttered. “I must have had just a little too much wine I think.”

You smiled at him, chuckling as your cheeks grew warm.

The car windows were fogged over, and in the dark all you could do was touch. His kisses felt rough but intimate. His tusks brushed against your skin, making your shiver. Every so often the darkness was halted by the motion light of the parking lot turning on. You’d still for a moment, then continue on with your youthful antics.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You kissed Art and breathed, looking into his eyes while you clasped your hands around his face. Maybe it was the wine or the nudes on display, maybe it was weeks of working so close and holding back so long.

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You smiled at him, kissing him again while his hands moved below. Your panties were pushed aside, his zipper brushed against your thigh. Big. Oh my god it was big!

You gasped softly and he stilled, watching your expression. You eased over him, taking as much of Art as you could stand. You pressed your palms to the roof of the car for balance, his strong hands kneaded into your thick thighs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” he breathed.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” Your laughter turned into moaning. Maybe you were both a bit too old for this, but you’d never had so much fun before! He pressed deeply inside you, and his hands couldn’t stop touching your body. He roamed over the soft curves, and plump form, his desire seeming to grow the more he did.

The next morning you came into work, seeing Art standing in the middle of the room. You held your breath, wondering if it was all a wonderful dream. He turned and smiled, his thick glasses back in place.

“Hi” he said breathlessly.

Your smile bloomed. “Hi.”

Art motioned to the desk. “I brought coffee.”

“I see that.” You smiled and took a cup he offered.

He sighed then laughed and you laughed. “So uh…last night.”

“I liked your friend’s gallery. It was very nice. I also liked your favorite restaurant.” You took a sip of the coffee, testing it before you added anything.

Art nodded, his gaze drifted until it fell back onto you. “Is that all?”

You smiled over your coffee cup. “No. Just barely.” You looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate work topic.”

“Not exactly but uhm…I just wanted to check.” His eyes darted over you. “Were we really too old for that?”

You laughed and cupped your hand over your mouth. “A little. But I’m not too sore. Are you?”

“No. But I would prefer somewhere much comfier next time.” he leaned in close and you closed your eyes, accepting his kiss and the touch of his tusks against your cheeks.

“Yes, it would be nice.” You saw he had paints and brushes set on the front desk. “What’s this for?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I thought I’d paint the window. I got a bit of inspiration last night.” He grinned your way. “Plus, I think mom would like to see how I’ve improved.”

You grinned. “I’ll be very excited to see how you work. Outside a car at least.”

[dragon-ascent]

Hello, how are you ? Since you have open request I’d like to ask something : How do you think our favorite dragon Zhongli will react to his wife being accused of lying because they have corrected an historian on a false fact about Morax ?

Since English isn’t my first language I’m afraid this is not clear, I’m sorry.

Ooh, I like it, here's what I've come up with <3

-----

The tension is palpable and certainly not what you were hoping to land yourself in when you accepted Zhongli's request to be his plus-one aboard the Pearl Galley.

"Forgive me, Mr. Changying, but that's where I'll have to correct you," you tell the stocky man before you. The food and drinks on the table are long-untouched. "Rex Lapis didn't take on such a grand ten-headed and eight-armed form to exterminate those sea creatures. In fact, he personally went door to door to trap them in little Geo contraptions, even having a bit of trouble with the.... particularly wrigglier ones."

Changying's eyes practically roll into the back of his head. "Do you truly believe that rubbish just because that is what's commonly peddled? That the Geo archon, who could raise the mountains and calm the tides without breaking a sweat, found the task of getting rid of tiny sea creatures tedious and challenging?"

Sighing, you say, "Even the gods are subject to being less-than-perfect in their methods. And besides, the damn things were inside people's houses - brute strength would not have been handy at all. Rex Lapis needed to be careful and meticulous so that none of his people were harmed. Hence the Geo cages."

Despite how neatly you'd presented your counterpoint, Changying merely scoffs as he adjusts his glasses. He jabs a finger at you accusingly. "You're lying, just like everyone else," he growls, "and you clearly have no respect for our late archon! Do you even like him?"

Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as you gaze up at him in shock. "Ex...excuse me?"

The man pulls no punches as he continues his rant against you. "How can you so blindly believe what the masses think? Maybe if you were a real Rex Lapis follower like me, you would learn some critical thinking skills and draw more accurate conclusions!"

"I'm afraid I am on the side of my partner here, Mr. Changying," cuts in Zhongli, placing an arm on your shoulder. Relief floods your veins as you let out the breath you'd been holding. "They are correct in explaining that Rex Lapis had to go the simplistic route when dealing with Liyue's sea creature infestation."

Changying's eyes grow wide. "Forgive me, Mr. Zhongli," he murmurs, and you're not ignorant to the way his tone mellows out and becomes more respectful as he continues to speak. "I didn't know you were also in agreement of that story. But let me explain why he likely-"

"It is alright for you to have your own interpretations of events, especially for a being with an expansive history that is always being debated over," says Zhongli calmly, poised as always, "but when these interpretations are unrealistic and you still try to present them as fact...while belittling other people, no less...the line must be drawn somewhere, yes?"

Changying blanches, stammering, "Er, but don't you think Rex Lapis would appreciate deviating thought processes more, especially when..."

Zhongli's eyes narrow ever so slightly, his visage still calm as a pond. "Perhaps so, but what he would not appreciate is his people trying to one-up others in an attempt to prove they are his most loyal followers." Your husband glances at you. "I know my partner well, and they love Rex Lapis dearly. Not only do you accuse them of lying, you also undermine the love they hold for the deity."

His hand brushes against yours and he interlaces his fingers with you, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You smile softly.

Changying scrambles for words, useless excuses and explanations that hardly justify him being on his high horse.

Zhongli, unamused, fires his parting shot. "Far be it for an ordinary man like myself to tell you what to do, but here is some advice: gather reliable citations for your claims, provide succinct evidence, and be respectful of those with opposing views, and perhaps then Rex Lapis would consider you a favorite of his."

With that, Zhongli escorts you away from the scene, knowing full well you will always be his favorite by far - the approving smile he gives you conveys that perfectly.

[sepublic]

I feel for Raine Whispers because they had to deal with two old green creeps getting uncomfortably close to them and in their head. It’s the culmination of Raine having to work for the system they want to tear down, they’ve always been so close to cruelty in order to keep an eye on it; Distracting Terra from Darius and Eberwolf, and later taking advantage of the situation to try to stop Belos from possessing the Titan. It’s like the stage fright, because there’s also so many eyes on you, but they’ll do it.

It must take a toll on their health, Raine already has to sacrifice so much of peace of mind for the Boiling Isles, they’d be justified going on a villain arc except that would undo all that work! And as much as Raine has to go along with evil, they never succumb to it and always remember who they are, keep their agency, and consider the people they’re fighting for. They finally get a break away from it, and with people they love.

Did it haunt Raine, their failure to stop Belos from infecting the Titan’s heart? Does Raine ever see King or Luz mourn the Glyphs and the Titan and think they could’ve done something better, different? If Raine had been just a bit faster, King could still feel his father’s heartbeat. Maybe they could’ve found a way for King to directly talk with his dad!

The magic of the isles would still be available for everyone to rediscover, a long lost tradition of wild magic brought back after centuries of cultural genocide. The people of the left arm wouldn’t have been displaced, the ecosystem there wouldn’t have been irreversibly changed. Luz could still have the magic she held dear, as would everyone else who’d learn them. Even with King to grant new glyphs, he’s still figuring them out and there’s still a loss in no longer being able to really speak with the Titan.

Like jeez Whispers has it rough; Spearheading a rebellion and having to look the other way for the greater good. And now this; Raine wearing a badge with the Titan’s face on it, having the Council be represented by the Titan… It feels like them doing their best to honor someone they wish they could’ve done more for. But in the end, Raine did a lot by protecting King’s mother and sister, multiple times, and I’m sure the Titan appreciates that. So I’m sure Raine can wear her visage with pride.

[blasphemousclaw]

In regards to Morgott and/or Mohg: How do you think the Hornsent would feel toward them? Seeing as they both embody multiple aspects of the Crucible that aren't just limited to the horns(tail, wings), on one hand you'd think there'd be a certain reverence.

But they're both direct offsprings of Marika. Despite the aspects they bear, surely there'd be some level of scrutiny.

Would they have been revered? Or shunned? To bear such a divinely visage as the result of a curse...

... It's gotta be tough on both the twins.

depends who you’re asking… I can think of a number of different reactions hornsent people might have?

In general, I’m sure people would definitely think of them as highly ironic… like omfg they’re so #blessed to have such magnificent horns but they’re literally the offspring of the loathsome strumpet… what a waste. they bear the Crucible’s blessing, but that’s hardly a blessing in Marika’s world!

knowing how Marika treated them, some might feel sorry for them, or even might be angry on their behalf… but others might scorn them simply because they are Marika’s children, not seeing them as people, but as divine retribution for what Marika inflicted on their people. overall I don’t think any hornsent would see the twins as one of their own because again, omen are not hornsent, the hornsent are a culture which Mohg and Morgott weren’t born into… I can’t really make any other generalizations besides that because I think the twins’ identities are complicated and the hornsent would have many different opinions!

Hornsent (the guy) specifically I think would feel a sense of karmic satisfaction about the twins, similar to what he says about Messmer… “to think he dared call us savages, when he himself was the most base of all.” like ooh, Marika’s called us impure, but her own children are horned! I can see him distrusting the twins implicitly just because they’re children of Marika, but at the same time, he’s loyal to Miquella even though he’s Marika’s son because he pinkie promised to make up for his mom’s crimes (and backed up his convictions by literally removing his body parts)… so I think Hornsent definitely could come to trust and sympathize with someone like Mohg, who suffered at Marika’s hand and works against her and her Tarnished. perhaps Hornsent should’ve had a conversation with Ansbach! Morgott on the other hand he’d see as a highly cringe and offensive bootlicker

Hornsent Grandam would probably feel the same karmic satisfaction about the twins; as someone praying for Marika’s downfall every day she’d be like wow Marika and her kin really did get cursed lmfao. I do think she could be persuaded to take pity on them though, since they’re victims of Marika in their own way… maybe they could bond over some scorpion stew and she’d dispense some grandmotherly wisdom, at first begrudgingly but then with real affection…

it would’ve been so interesting to get a hornsent’s opinion on Mohg and Morgott, this is really making me wish that Hornsent and Ansbach spoke, and/or Hornsent found out about Mohg’s role in Miquella’s plans!

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Comfort Zone

@summer-of-bad-batch week 2 alt prompt 'Comfort Zone'

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Shep Hazard Set after the finale when everyone is living happily on Pabu Word Count: ~1735 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Hunter is restless, and Shep invites him to take a walk.

Even on rest days Shep liked to be up early, circulating among the island community, greeting the early risers. He made it his personal mission to ensure that every member of Pabu’s population was well-cared for, always ready to lend an ear or a hand, whatever the situation called for.

This morning this usually quiet stretch of Lower Pabu echoed with the noise of some singular industry, banging and sawing acting as his beacon as he wound his way around the curving paths until he found the source of the noise.

His melodious voice floated to the man on the roof, lilting in query.

“Hunter? What are you doing up there?”

There was no pause to the sounds of Hunter’s work, and he replied without venturing to where he could see the other man. “Fixing the roof.”

“Yes, but… it’s a day of rest, Hunter.”

“Roof’s not going to fix itself.”

“It will be there tomorrow.”

“What if it rains tonight?”

Shep paused and glanced out at the endless sky that stretched from the isle, cloudless blue in all directions reaching down to meet the sea in a horizon which blurred to infinity.

“Rain,” he repeated, his voice faint with humour.

The sounds of work continued from above.

Shep glanced about for a ladder, thinking to climb and try to make Hunter speak with him face to face. He didn’t see one. Unsurprising that the clone commando would forgo such things – Shep had seem him swarm up cliff-faces in pursuit of flowers which caught Omega’s eye, and he doubted their low buildings posed as much of a challenge as that.

He settled for repeating the clone’s name again. “Hunter.”

The hammering ceased. Hunter’s face appeared at the edge of the roof, guilty apology writ large across his features.

“Sorry. Am I disturbing people? I can come back to this later. I’ll find something else to do in the meantime…”

Shep couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up at Hunter’s stumbling explanation, words tripping over themselves as he looked anywhere except at Shep.

“Come walk with me, Hunter,” he said, his smile infusing the invitation with warmth.

“Maybe later, Shep,” said Hunter, swinging down from the roof and immediately stalking past him, still avoiding his gaze. “I noticed one of the cliff fences was down too, could be a danger if the kids roam near it. I’ll go fix that, it’s out of the way-”

“Hunter.”

The gentle force to his name stopped Hunter and he wheeled round slowly, head down but eyes glancing up from beneath the shadow of his bandana.

“This… isn’t something I have a choice about, is it.”

Shep smiled and shook his head. “Glad you caught on.”

Hunter groaned, but a faint grin lit his tired face. “I’m used to using that voice on the others.” He shook his head ruefully. “Never thought I’d have someone use it on me.”

Gesturing with his head, Shep turned and started walking and let Hunter fall into step beside him. He picked a path which wound away from the inhabited areas of the island, one he knew would eventually turn from paving to dirt as they reached the wilder spaces beyond the sprawl of Lower Pabu’s housing.

The silence between them was companionable, although it was easy to sense Hunter’s reticence in his stooped shoulders and the hands dug into his pockets. His eyes shifted restlessly over everything before them, mouth part-open to sample the scent of the air, and Shep could almost feel the busy thoughts whirring away behind his tattooed visage.

Eventually he opened with a question which was really a soft command.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, Hunter.”

The clone almost startled, jerking in surprise at his voice after the quiet of their walk. Hunter glanced up at him quickly, then let his gaze go long over the horizon, slowing to a halt as he dug his boots into the ground, nudging a rock with his toe.

“Nothing. Nothing’s bothering me.”

“You’re not happy,” pressed Shep gently.

Hunter’s defensive snort was almost too quick. “Of course I am. What’s not to be happy about? We’re finally free of the Empire. Omega is doing great. We… we have the lives I always wanted for us.” His words slowed and trailed off, before his gaze dropped from the seascape to the ground. “What’s there to be unhappy about?”

“You’re restless, then.”

At that, Hunter gave a small nod. His voice was gravel, the words reluctantly dragged from him as he agreed, “I guess you could say that.”

Shep looked about and found a broad boulder to settle his weight against, leaning comfortably back against the rock. There was plenty of space for Hunter to join him if he wished, but he didn’t press the invitation onto the man.

For a moment he sat, surveying the tense line of Hunter’s shoulders, before he spoke his next words carefully.

“It can be hard to make the adjustment. Hard to step out of your comfort zone, even if… especially if your comfort zone was hardship.” He watched carefully for Hunter’s reaction, but the clone kept his back to him. “When it’s all you’ve known for so long, the familiarity of danger can sometimes seem like a friend. It’s hard to know what to do with yourself when you don’t need to be alert all the time.” He paused, left time for the thought to sink in before adding, “Hard to know what to do with yourself when others don’t need you all the time.”

Hunter’s shoulders shifted with a soft snort. “You could be talking about yourself there, Shep.”

“I could be,” he acknowledged. “Perhaps that’s why I recognise it in you too.”

Now Hunter turned to him, and there was gentle devastation written across his features. His stern façade had fractured, and beneath it there was uncertainty, and loss.

“Who am I if I’m not their leader?” he asked, his gruff voice little more than a whisper. Now his storm-grey eyes met Shep’s at last, piercing, searching.

Shep pushed to his feet again, stepping towards Hunter and letting a huge, warm hand settle on his shoulder. He squeezed lightly, a reassurance.

“You’re their brother. Their friend. A father-figure to Omega.” A smile tugged at his lips as he added, “Don’t mistake me, she looks to all of you, but her bond with you is different to the rest. She needs you, in a different way now to perhaps how she did before, but no less important.” He let his grip tighten, pressing his words into Hunter. “I’d say more important.”

The line of Hunter’s shoulders was still tense under his hand. “Echo and Crosshair are out there fighting the Empire,” he said reluctantly. “I should be doing more.”

Letting his hand drop, Shep stepped past Hunter to gaze down at the town, the houses stretching down to the docks and the small boats bobbing there, less now than before the Empire attacked, but the small fleet recovering with each new craft they built.

“Do you begrudge Wrecker the life he leads now?”

“What?” He almost felt Hunter’s startled flinch. “Of course not.”

Shep smiled as he thought of the big clone, the first refugee to come to Pabu who rivalled him in stature. Wrecker had thrown himself wholeheartedly into island life, and not a day went by without him turning his hand to some new skill, eager to learn, ever-willing to lend his strength to the community. He could most often be found down at the docks, but a love of Pabu’s food had seen him turn into a surprisingly good chef as well, and he was beginning to return Shep’s gifts of food baskets for the clones with cooked platters of his own.

“Or the clone cadets? The three boys you rescued?”

“That’s different,” said Hunter sullenly. “It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” said Shep mildly. He chuckled at the thought of the mischief the three boys wrought, seven and eight years old in teenagers’ bodies. They had tried fostering them with parents, but the three of them had been fending for themselves so long they were happier on their own. Instead, Shep had settled them in a central location, ensuring that they had islanders around them to help them adjust whilst giving them their own space.

“It’s not,” insisted Hunter stubbornly. “They’re just kids. They shouldn’t have to fight. I want them to have normal lives… just like I want for Omega.”

“Hmm.” Shep let the thoughtful noise hang in the air between them. “They are trained. Capable soldiers. Why do you feel you should compare yourself to your brothers in the Resistance, yet not expect them to join?”

He heard the intake of breath that was Hunter getting ready to argue, then the click of his teeth as he jaw clamped shut. He tried not to smile.

“It sounds like you hold yourself to different standards than you do the rest of them, Hunter,” he offered, and continued with Hunter’s grunt of acknowledgement. “It’s hard not to, when you’ve been their Sergeant so long. You’ve seen them through so much. But…”

Now he turned back to Hunter, expression gentle and unjudgmental as he said, “Couldn’t you extend yourself the same grace? To give yourself the chance to lead the life you want, not the life you feel you ought to?”

Hunter’s face was shadowed with doubt, and he worried at his lower lip as conflict showed in his eyes.

Eventually he looked up at Shep.

“How do you do it?” he asked softly. “How do you be who people expect you to be… and still find the right path for yourself?”

Shep smiled benignly, clapping a hand to Hunter’s upper arm reassuringly.

“With practice, Hunter. You’ll get the hang of it.” His smile broadened. “Perhaps you can start by taking a rest day… on the rest day.”

Hunter grinned sheepishly with a rough chuckle. “Alright, Shep. Consider me lectured.”

Shep turned back to the island vista, draping his arm over Hunter’s shoulders. The clone relaxed into an easier posture, one hand on his hip, some of the tension bleeding from his frame.

“It will take time,” Shep told him softly. “But you’ll learn. I’m sure of it.”

A soft smile tugged at the edge of Hunter’s lips, lifting some of the tiredness from his expression.

“I’m sure I will.”

[helios-writings]

Howl

Werewolf Shanks x gn! Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: spooky themes, themes of violence. Nothing too crazy though.

You run a bookshop in a town plagued by stories of monsters and demons, not that you believed any of those stories yourself. And then one day, you meet Shanks.

As a bookseller, you’d read countless stories about creatures of the Night. Seen stories unfold first hand, too. Your grandmother going on a walk through the woods and never returning, your father coming back from a hunt, face pale as death as he informs everyone that something had taken the others.

You had never seen any of this for yourself, of course, never allowed to leave town or walk alone at night. You even doubted that any of these creatures really existed, or if they were just tall tales spread by those who had heard the echoes of animals in the dark and thought they were monsters. People going missing, or were they just tired of living in a town plagued by the deceivable?

You were, you were tired of living the same day to day routine. But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, your loved ones had died here, you had grown up here. You were chained to a town that held nothing for you, except for countless days of old ladies arguing over a book, like now.

As they argue, you stand behind the counter, fighting the urge to kick them both out or ban them from your shop entirely. Everyday was a monotonous routine in which you were trapped.

Until the bell above the door rings and a man walks in, someone new. Instantly, you feel wary, like something is wrong, but you don’t know what. The feeling only gets stronger as he gets closer.

He grins, all teeth and sparkling eyes. “I’m your new neighbor, Shanks.”

You introduce yourself warily, no one ever comes here. Not even tourists, even though the town’s infamy was known throughout countless places.

“Are you uh, here to buy something?” You ask, after a moment of silence.

The way he’s eyeing you makes you want to shift in your seat, but you don’t. Shanks just smiles.

“Just introducing myself, you’re the only one that’s talked to me so far.”

And although that wary feeling is still there, you smile back, and his grin only gets wider.

***

The man, Shanks, is strange. He drops by almost every day, only being gone a few days out of each month, for business, he tells you. You grow accustomed to his presence, and it becomes stranger for you to not see him at all than it does the opposite. You begin to fall in love with him.

He loves to help around the shop, especially when he can reach the shelves you can’t, almost preening when you thank him for it.

Right now, he’s sitting on the other side of the counter, head resting on his arms as he watches you price the new shipment of books.

“I’ll be going to the city for a week or two,” he tells you, “you should come with me.”

You pause for only a moment, but shake your head and continue. “I’ve never left town, you know that.”

“Why not? If you don’t believe in the stories, then nothing should stop you from leaving.”

You sigh heavily. “Shanks, it’s complicated. Who would look after the shop when I’m gone? It’s too much stress.”

He kisses your forehead. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Maybe some other time, yeah?”

You can tell he’s upset, even if he's apologetic about frustrating you, and that alone makes you want to go with him, but you don’t.

You do go see him off the next morning, a thermos full of coffee in your hand for him.

He grins. “Well, I’m glad you decided to see me off.”

“I can’t let you be deprived of my visage for too long, I know you love it.”

Shanks snorts. “Ha! More like you couldn’t bear to go without seeing me one last time.”

You pull him into a hug and he buries his face into your neck, like he usually does. He kisses your forehead and then sets off.

***

The next few days go by without incident. Customer, shelve books, customer, shelve books. You have to get the step ladder for the ones that you can’t reach. You hate it.

You do find yourself missing Shanks more than you thought you would. You figure that it might be because he’s farther away, or that maybe your feelings for him just make that distance feel wider.

And then, you walk upstairs from your shop to your house, and see it. All those years doubting everyone in town, only for those crazy stories to be true.

You don’t know how the creature got into your house, all you know is that its hulking mass is hovering above you, lips curled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth, sharper than any knife you’ve ever seen.

Werewolf, your mind supplies, even through the cloud of fear gripping it. A werewolf, just like the people in town have said. This is it, you’re going to be eaten by a werewolf.

You turn your head away from its gaze, revealing your neck, hoping that easier access to your throat will make death come quicker.

Instead of the jaws wrapping around your throat ready to devour you, you hear a high pitched wine, followed by a furry cheek rubbing against your neck and face.

Gasping in shock you quickly stand up and walk backwards, until you hit a wall, your eyes never leaving the creature in front of you. It whines again, coming closer, head bowed to you in some sort of surrender. You have no idea what the fuck is happening. When the werewolf reaches you again, it pushes you with its nose, trying to move you away from the wall and onto the floor with it.

Deciding that you might as well, lest you piss it off and cause it to kill you, you gingerly sit on the ground next to it. It licks your face happily, and then nudges its head into your neck. You laugh a little.

You wonder why it didn’t eat you, why it's being so friendly with you. You place your hand on its head and stroke its head, watching as its dark brown eyes close in delight.

Those eyes are so familiar to you, yet you can’t place them.

“I guess you aren’t so bad,” you say, “but who are you?”

It just whines again, licking you. It makes you feel kind of…..safe.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not going to eat me.”

It sighs contentedly and lays it head on your lap, falling asleep. You fall asleep like that too.

***

When you wake up, there's an arm around you, pulling you into their warm side.

Immediately your eyes shoot open and you wrestle free, staring into the eyes of Shanks, your neighbor, who happens to be naked. And in the place where the werewolf was.

You turn your head away in embarrassment, but the confusion filling you refuses to fade, even in the face of the man you had come to befriend over the months he had been here.

You open your mouth to say something, to ask a question, to fill the silence, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not having this conversation while I’m naked.”

He stands up, grabbing a nearby blanket to throw over himself. “Just….30 minutes, wait 30 minutes.”

And then he’s gone, leaving your head spinning.

Deciding to keep busy, you make coffee and prepare breakfast, head swimming with everything that happened. Shanks was a werewolf and on any other day, that would’ve made you laugh, but not now. Not after you had come face to face with a creature of the Night and lived.

The familiar three knocks sounded at the door and he entered again, clothed this time.

You watched as he made a plate and sat down across from you at the table.

“Alright,” he starts, “how much do you know about werewolves?”

“Only what I’ve heard from the townsfolk and what I’ve read in books about them, which if you hadn’t seen, isn’t a lot.”

The red haired man sighs. “Well, as you can imagine, I didn’t actually get these scars in a bar fight.”

You listen intently, nodding along.

“I turned a few days later, and I’ve been like that ever since. It's been…years, I think.”

“You were quite cute as a wolf. Very affectionate, too.”

He flushes. “Funny, that.”

“The way you said that makes me think it's actually not very funny at all.”

Shanks tears into a piece of bacon as a response and you glare at him. “Shanks.”

“There is one detail that no werewolf book seems to mention.”

“Spill it.”

He growls in exasperation. “Sometimes, we can become fixated on someone. Scent-marking them, protecting them. Even as wolves, something inside of us recognizes that person.”

“So you’re saying…?”

The red haired man rolls his eyes. “Christ, you’re impossible.”

Shanks pulls you forward and kisses you, he tastes of coffee. You gasp a little into the kiss and he grins, nipping your lip softly as he pulls away.

“I have probably loved you ever since I walked into your bookshop, it was like I had known you my whole life, had known you in my soul.”

“Oh.” And you sit with that for a moment. You think about all the times he’d come into the bookshop for no reason. How many times he had insisted on feeding you or taking his jacket. And then it clicks.

“You motherfucker, you’ve been courting me this whole time.”

Shanks is sheepish, which doesn’t happen often. “Guilty?”

You kiss him a little desperately. “I love you too.”

He lets out a high pitched whine, like it was a reflex. You laugh into the kiss.

“Your doglike qualities do make a lot more sense now.”

“Very funny.”

“I do have one other question, though.”

“Go on.”

You’re playing with his fingers. “You said you were going to the city, but you’re here instead.”

He buries his face into your hair, sighing. “I missed you and when I’m like that, I don’t think. I came here, looking for you. I was desperate to see you, to make sure you were okay. The smell, your smell, is strongest here. And then you actually came inside, and it was like all of my thoughts had transformed into needing to scent you. I do it even as a human.”

“Scent me?”

“Making you smell like me, so the other monsters know not to touch you.”

You feel hot; embarrassed. “Oh.”

“Every time I’m gone for a few days, its to transform, but I hate leaving you. It's why I wanted you to come with me, the farther away you are, the stronger the urge gets and then I commit a felony by breaking into your house.”

“I couldn’t tell you any of that, though,” he continues, “if I’d scared you, or worse, made you angry, I’d never forgive myself.”

You kiss him softly. “I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

Shanks smiles into the kiss. “Thank you.” For accepting me goes unsaid, but you know what he means.

“Next time you leave, I’ll go with you. Anywhere, just say the words.”

“Careful, a promise like that and I’ll keep you by my side forever.” He teases.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Don’t joke around like that, someone might think you were proposing.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe in a year or two, unless we’re already married in some wolfy way I don’t know about?”

He grins. “Not unless you want to be.”

“We’ll come back to that later, much later. For now, I’ve got a pile of books that need to be put on high shelves with your name written on them.” You tell him, standing up and stretching, tired of sitting down for so long.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You expected his werewolf reveal to be more of a shock, but it made so many things about him make sense, things that you had already loved about him. Maybe one day, you and Shanks would leave this town together, to be happy somewhere else. But that's in the future, and today you are content with Shanks picking you up in his arms and peppering your face with kisses.

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Hello, I hope you don't mind if I share a weird headcanon of mine 👉👈

I normally see people talking about Kakyoin make drawing about you but what if Jotaro does that too? The reason I have this headcanon because I remember the scene when Jotaro using Star Platinum drawing the fly he saw in the picture, and he draw it so well. It makes me think that maybe Jotaro has talent in art too. Jotaro's style will be realistic style while Kakyoin will be more like cartoon/anime style.

Imagine their sketchbook filling with so many drawing of you 💕 Jotaro will watching you from afar, sketching you with your cute smile, your beautiful eyes, he captured it all. For Kakyoin, I think he will even make up characters (oc) that look like you and him and ship them together lol (this headcanon inspried by my friend, she actually do that with her crush).

Thank you for reading my ramble, glad to talk with you :D I would love to hear your thoughts about my weird headcanon

P/s: Love you writing so muchhhh 💝

This is fun stuff, I could eat it up all day. Thanks for sending it in, so I can blabber my mouth about it

This always internally bugged me so I’m very thrilled that someone brought up how well Star Platinum drew that fly. I suppose it’s kind of easy to gloss over for a lot of people compared to Kakyoin’s scene of painting on that canvas. (Then again that fly was kind of important to identify to figure out where Dio was so then again it’s “???” for an explanation)

Anywho, I’d say signs point to Jotaro being able to draw, and I think it’s a hobby he prefers keeping to himself. Like you said of him having a sketchbook, almost no one sees what he draws in it and he doesn’t want anyone else to see it especially if it’s various sketches of you. So more than likely when he does do so, he’s somewhere where he won’t be pestered by school girls, or whatever punk tries to start a fight with him.

I’d also like to think he goes back and lingers on prior stuff, just staring at it for a little while. This applies usually when you’re out of school sick (which he’ll probably stop by later anyway with or without your knowledge). But there’s something comforting about seeing every piece of your visage in his sketchbook. Literally no one else knows about this sketchbook aside from maybe Kakyoin (Holly has her suspicions he takes a sketchbook around but she smiles not pestering her son on his hobbies as she thinks it’s adorable).

For the most part art wise I think Jotaro sticks to traditional art, maybe a dabble of charcoal but he prefers pencils. Maybe watercolor if he ever went beyond, but traditional with pencil/pen is the easiest way for him to pull something out at his leisure. Would he let you see? Maybe eventually when he gets you where he wants you, or if the cat is out of the bag early and you see it and you’re not quite with him yet. Let’s just say seeing that may speed up him taking you.

Kakyoin I could definitely see diving into the oc type of thing, he’d certainly reference an artstyle of a manga you like. (Don’t ask how he figured that out so quickly). Though he definitely loves putting some passion into his artwork and occasionally shamelessly make sultry artwork of you and himself. He loves painting the most as he spreads colors, mixing them into the wondrous hues that is your skin tone. Or splashing watercolors in a notebook, that looks something out of a fairytale. Soft and warm lighting….oops he’s getting a tad bit excited.

He definitely presents pieces that are obviously meant to be stand ins for the two of you. That no one else would ever be wiser too, yeah you might have this odd feeling something’s not quite right, but there’s nothing there you could really prove other than observe just how pretty the composition is. If you compliment it, that just fuels this man’s desire further.

Biggest takeaway here is Jotaro and Kakyoin very blatantly have their own styles whether sticking with black/white/grey, or full on color. Both would be pretty in their own right, and their style choices speak of their personalities without saying a single word.

[slothpoth]

Uncanny Vash and Knives Hcs

I just finished TriMax like— today so now I feel more comfortable being Public with hcs

TW: Body horror and the like

I’m gonna format this by saying overall hcs and then getting specific on how both of them treat/adapt to these hcs and what personal differences they have

Duo Headcannons

Every time their voicebox reopens their voice takes on a different tone

Most of the time it’s imitating voices they’ve heard in the past, sometimes it’s a weird amalgamation of them creating a new voice.

For example when they only knew Rem their voices would sometimes go a bit too high pitched like it’s their original voice mixed with Rem or just straight up Rem

Their eyes are very glassy and doll-like

I won’t say life less because they can still emote but I think when they’re at rest it’d be very like IB/ Mad Father Doll Room Tease

I’m playing with the idea of them not blinking but I wanna make it freakier somehow so maybe they blink inconsistently? Like one eye will blink every hour and the other every two hours?

The surface of their skin is always feels like there’s an electric current underneath, like you touch their arm and they have buzzies

Independents in general start off looking very uncanny as a newborn, grow into a child that looks very human, and as they rapidly age they start to become more plant like again (got inspo for this from possuminatrenchcoat_27 on tiktok)

This could possibly be a newer adaptation after what happened with Tesla assuming that Tesla is the first instance of an independent/ the first instance of an vs independent getting brutalized like that.

When they get antsy or any high tension you’d be able to see their respective abilities kind of…..moving under their skin

When the tension or emotion gets too much they start to like leak whatever their thing is, think “Hikaru” from The Summer Hikaru Died

When they bleed it’s a mixture of blood of sometimes a feather or a leaf or two

Viewing their “human” visages as a sort of disguise, I’d like to assume they can change colors

And by change colors I mean change how saturated or unsaturated their skin, hair, nails, and other organic parts are

Like if they do choose they can have the brightest teeth none to man and plant

Speaking of teeth, they can choose how many, how little, how long, how short, and what order their teeth are in

Also!! Incredible muscle control, like thinks Fox in a trap, rather than knaw off their leg they simply move and contract the muscle (and possibly bone) until they can slip out

They can photosynthesize but when they do it’s very obvious and very ominous

Like imagine one of them standing looking up, neck limp head back, eyes wide and unfocused slightly rolled back, jaw slack, a rumbling coming from the top of their head and from the ground but nowhere inbetween

Their senses are heightened so in high traffic areas they can get overwhelmed easily, especially considering that they spent their developing and adapting years on the ships where the loudest thing was the machine hum

I think it’d be funny if they can make themselves smell like different types of foliage like one day it’s roses the next it’s honeydew the next it’s just grass

Vash Copes

so Mr. Deluxe-Life-Like over here is a hummer

Like he’ll hum and clear his throat and make noises to try a get his speaking voicebox to around a tone that somewhat sounds like him.

He can’t just start randomly talking and sound like Milly! That’d be rude!

So along with the rainforest animal sequence chittering and chattering he’s just, “hmm hrrmm huummm buh…how are doing? Do you feel okay?”

To make up for how his eyes are he wears glasses (of course) but also had figured out how to dilate his eyes in time with what he sees in other people’s emotions (incredible muscle control)

He’ll be purposely very expressive to take as much attention from his eyes as possible so none notices how his eyes look or the blinking issue

Sometimes he’ll make himself blink when he knows he’s being looked at

So when Vash is getting antsy under his skin youll see almost like vines wiggling about underneath, but very inconsistently

Like if you’re looking at his arm you’ll see a long thin vine, that could be mistaken for a vein, jerk around sporadically

When he’s getting very antsy the vine will sprout thorns that’ll push through his skin like water. It won’t leave a wound behind the skin will just fall back together

That’s why he likes the coat so much because you can’t see the things going on under his skin

So like imagine an almost worm like part of his skin being raised that’s jerking around and moving these thorns that just glide through his skin (freaky huh?)

I think Vash would use the color changing thing for comedic effect, like the usual tinting red for blush or embarrassment, stuff like that

Despite having all these options for self customization, I think Vash would keep it pretty human like.

Well— not exactly. He hasn’t been in a place to get the details right so he kinda…fills in the blank spaces with other things!

Like since he hasn’t had the time to peek into someone’s mouth, he has a dog mouth. He’s seen the inside of a dogs mouth lot of times what’s wrong with it? They look cool!

One time him and wolfwood were play fighting and WW had pinned him so Vash started to moved his muscles around to squeeze out and WW got so scared he jumped like a foot in the air and cowered in a corner

Vash doesn’t photosynthesize often because he typically eating so that’s how he gets his energy

But when he’s on the run and another town is a ways away and he’s sooo hungry he just gotta Yknow

one time Meryl and Milly caught up to him while he was doing it and when they approached (after passing once to try to taunt him with water) he jerked out of it in a blink all creepy like

Like they were a yard away from his back and they blinked and now he’s a foot away and facing them all “Hey Ladies!” fym hey ladies bitch move

For his senses I feel like he kind of enjoys being on the run so he’s not constantly overstimulated by all the sounds of towns

Don’t get him wrong he loves towns and people but 24/7 everytime he opened his eyes? He just needs a wee break is all

Smell wise I think he’d keep to a grass kind of scent, it’s all he really knows

So when Meryl or Milly or Wolfwood come up and get personal with him and ask “what are you wearing” after answering cheekily for a while he just goes “nothing, I just smell like this”

Knives Cope

Welcome to the stage Mr. I-Look-Like-This-For-The-Irony and his special talent How Far Can We Push The Human Assumption

One of Knives’ pleasures is seeing how far he can push what he looks and acts like until people start to think he’s not a human

He’s found it’s reasonably far if he’s careful

Voice wise, Knives’ voice really doesn’t change all that often

It gets more erratic based on the people around you and Knives is usually isolated, since he’s not constantly around voices and people like Vash he just has to deal with voice pitching up and down and less imitations

That doesn’t mean it’s never happened

When he and Conrad first teamed up and we’re talking more often about their plans and what’s possible, Conrad thought Knives was warming up and being playful by imitating his voice sometimes

He chuckled once and Knives was like “What’s so funny.” And Conrad brought the voice thing up and Knives was like “That’s unintentional, why would I wanna win your favor I already have it.”

Knives knows his eyes are off putting. He knows very well.

He intentionally makes an overt amount of eye contact until he knows the other person is freaked out

When Knives gets to a point of tension where you can see his blades poking under his skin, he just lets em out

To him it’s his base plant side telling him to free himself of this embarrassing flesh suit so he’s like ah just as nature intended

It could also be why he has the cloak of blades cause he’s always high tension

Back to his stage act, How UnHuman Can We Look Until They Start Actually Thinking I’m Not Human, when it comes to their customization options, Knives likes the keep it just about human

He wants to look like his sisters, but knows he can’t get people to do what he wants if they think he looks too sweet (in his opinion his sisters are adorable)

So he tries to balance both visuals. He’s crazy pale with platinum blonde hair because his sisters are also incredibly pale.

But on the other hand, he keeps himself looking somewhat human because what else to should humanity see at its end but itself?

When he isn’t in public, he likes to look ALOT less human, like biblical Angel.

Knives doesn’t get into situations where he needs to move his muscles around himself to escape anything, the only time he did was when he and Vash were younger and playing around

Unlike Vash, Knives photosynthesizes all the time

He doesn’t like eating, it overwhelms his senses. The sunlight? Oh the sunlight.

Knives feels the same way about the Sun like yearning gays and the moon

He will photosynthesize even if he doesn’t have to, he does it so often he can do it laying down (he looks like a corpse and if you come too close to him while he’s laying there you will get skewered right ways)

Knives remembers more about the flowers Rem showed them and how they smell so usually he’ll choose whichever plant he thinks of first

That’s the end, this took like two days straight there was more in the thinker and reading The Summer Hikaru Died mid way through making it. Can you tell how much I like figuring out how human is human?

[shunin-gumis]

Designs of Happiness - Track A20

L4mps Main Story Translation

Title: ep.4 Night of that school

Characters: Netaro

Summary: One night, at the old school building, Netaro asks a certain boy the meaning of the word ‘loneliness’.

Thank you aca @463ce6, myun @/myuntachis Niri @/Niri_riri and jes @/arcanecrayonn for helping me with proofing!

Location: Asunaro High School - Old School Building

Boy: No way! You’re telling me you can look like Ryo Furusawa?

Netaro: Hoi.

Boy: WOAH!! THAT’S CRAZY! AND HANDSOME!

Netaro: Mwehehe~

Boy: Oh, you’re back to your old face.

Netaro: I’m quite fond of this visage now, you see.

Boy: Ohh, so you feel some attachment too, huh? Is it modeled after someone?

Netaro: A dash of mysteriousness from Timothy Kalamet, a pinch of pretty from Lee Dohyen, a dollop of beauty from Anya Taylor-Hey and just a teensy bit of Yo Nakaizumi for that secret sauce.

Boy: That’s a crazy combination! Not to mention they’re all super characteristic! And you’ve even included a woman! 

Netaro: I picked them after consuming many movies and dramas. Isn’t my taste quite excellent~?

Boy: Well, I guess I can’t deny that… 

Netaro: You’re uncertain?

Boy: Well, you could always just turn back to Ryo Furusawa whenever you want, right? Maybe even give Tori Umesaka a try, too!

Netaro: Hm~ I suppose I could throw them into the mix next time!

Boy: Looks really are important for a first impression though, huh? Like, people don’t even bother with you if you don’t look good enough… 

Boy: You’d never have to worry about that yourself, Netaro. You’d be popular forever!

Netaro: Popular… 

Boy: Yeah! Being popular sure is nice… I was a little popular when I was on the reserve team too y’know?

Netaro: What is this “popular” that you speak of? 

Boy: Huh? Oh… It means being liked by a lot of people!

Netaro: Being favored by a lot of people… Is that what you desire? 

Boy: Everyone wants that!

Netaro: Everyone!? The entire human race wishes to be “popular?”

Boy: That reminds me, you’ve read all those books I borrowed from the library, right?

Boy: Like, you’re so fast I can’t even borrow enough to keep you occupied!

Netaro: Indeed!

Boy: How come you don’t know what being popular means when you’re so smart? …Haha, it’s kinda funny, actually.

Netaro: I have only just comprehended the fact that being “popular” means to be favored.

Netaro: But, why do you desire to be “popular”?

Boy: That’s… because it’d be lonely otherwise. 

Netaro: Lonely.

Boy: Don’t tell me… you don’t know what “lonely” means either? 

Netaro: I do! “Lonely” is a word that appears very often. In fact, it appeared in the novel I last read too!

Netaro: Here, this one. “Schoolgirl.”

Netaro: “I stood in a corner of that dim kitchen, stunned, feeling so lonely that I could die—”

Netaro: Are humans truly driven to death when they feel lonely? The definition in that dictionary of yours did not satisfy me.

Boy: “I go on about saying how pained and tormented, how lonely and sad I feel, but what do I really mean by that?”

Boy: Dazai was fond of this work.

Boy: Netaro… Do you simply not feel lonely? If that’s the case, you probably won’t understand… 

Netaro: Something I can’t understand! Ahahaha! As someone who was pushed away for being too knowledgeable, this is quite the exciting turn of events!

Netaro: Do enlighten me on what “lonely” means, and how does it poison a human to the point of death? I simply must know!

Boy: Huh? …You want me to explain?

Netaro: You are not popular right now, is that not so? And you cannot help but feel lonely as a result of that. 

Boy: …… 

Netaro: Then, is it not possible for you to teach me what it means?

Boy: Oh… Um… 

Netaro: Why do you desire this popularity? What is the root cause of this desire? Why is it something that humans cannot help but desire!?

Netaro: Tell me tell me tell meeeee~!

Boy: B-B-Becau–

Boy: Because I want to be loved! 

Netaro: Oh-hoh! You want to be loved! In other words, if you are not loved, you will feel lonely?

Boy: That’s right! Being loved by someone, thinking about each other first thing, feeling like I was born to meet this person… I want to love and be loved! 

Boy: If not, there’s no way I’d ever be satisfied with life… 

Boy: Ugh… this is so embarrassing! Don’t make me say it out loud, geez!

Netaro: And why is your face turning red now? 

Boy: I’m still going through puberty, okay…

Netaro: Eureka! I have made a connection between the words “love,” “lonely,” and “satisfaction.”

Netaro: I’m certain I’ve read somewhere that humans feel well and happy when they sense they are loved, which in turn leads to satisfaction… 

Netaro: I believe it was this book… 

*flipping pages*

Netaro: ”When humans feel happy, the hypothalamus secretes various brain chemicals, such as serotonin.”

Netaro: “Adrenaline, endorphin, GABA, and counting—over a hundred brain chemicals are secreted. Among them, one named oxytocin is responsible for feelings of love and connection," It’s this passage right here.

Boy: Huh… 

Netaro: Hmhm~ When humans interact with one another, love, and feel loved in return, the brain releases the hormone known as oxytocin. 

Netaro: That is supposedly when they achieve a feeling of happiness.

Boy: Oh, okay… That kind of flew over my head though… 

Netaro: However.

Netaro: Love comes in many forms such as romantic, platonic, or familial. Amongst these, romantic love is one that relies on dopamine release. 

Netaro: This dopamine, also known as the happy hormone, will diminish unless one is continuously exposed to stronger stimuli. Most addictions, such as dependency on alcohol, can develop due to the diminishing nature of this hormone. 

Netaro: The same can be said of love! The dopamine secreted from engaging in romantic relations enters its phase of decline around the two to three month mark. After three years, it will completely dwindle! 

Netaro: This is what is called “the three-year itch” in layman’s terms!

Boy: I-I don’t really get it– Are you saying that romantic feelings disappear after three years…?

Netaro: Indeed! According to neuroscience, it is simply impossible to rely on romantic feelings to generate happiness infinitely. 

Boy: N-No way!!

Netaro: …Hence! I recommend you pursue platonic or familial bonds - their value will not degrade over time, meaning that such bonds will continue to produce oxytocin for you. I believe this is what will lead you to accomplish your true desire. 

Boy: Platonic and familial love… 

Netaro: In that case, you will no longer feel lonely. 

Boy: …Yeah, you really are cool, Netaro. 

Boy: I was so moved you made me speechless, hehe.

Netaro: I am a genius after all~

Boy: Yep, yep. 

Netaro: But… 

Netaro: Humans do not try to understand the science that occurs in their very bodies and instead torment themselves and end up feeling lonely… 

Netaro: In some cases, they even drive themselves to their own deaths.

Netaro: Despite possessing intelligence that is quite a rarity to find in the Milky Way galaxy, you are quite the silly little creatures! Haha!

Boy: Ahaha! You’ve got a point there!

Netaro: Eureka! Yet another revelation! 

Netaro: How about I compound oxytocin and cram it into you, in place of your hypothalamus!?

Boy: Whaa— No way, that sounds too scary! Hahaha! 

Netaro: Not to worry, for I am a genius! It won’t take too long! 

Boy: Stop it already! Hahaha!

Boy: …Phew.

Boy: Hey, Netaro. 

Netaro: What is it, Ono?

Ono: …Can we do it next week? Making me disappear, that is. 

Netaro: Hm~? Didn’t you say that last time as well? 

Ono: …… 

Netaro: Not a problem.

Netaro: If we are to do it, it’s preferable to pick a day when the stars are visible. 

Notes:

The celebrities mentioned in this chapter are: Ryo Furusawa = Ryo Yoshizawa Tori Umesaki = Tori Matsuzaka Timothy Kalamet = Timothée Chalamet  Lee Dohyen = Lee Dohyun Anya Taylor-Hey = Anya Taylor-Joy Yo Nakaizumi = Yo Oizumi

Schoolgirl by Osamu Dazai

Three year itch

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Masterlist

[halfmoth-halfman]

la douleur exquise

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Spider!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: canon-typical violence, fluff, whump, slight body horror

It isn’t easy being one of Miguel’s best agents. He’s a hard man to impress and even harder to get close to, but somehow you’ve managed to do both.

You take pride in your friendship with Miguel; it’s not something easily accomplished and more often, a feat people are too afraid to try for. You get it, he can be intimidating, but you’ve gotten a glimpse beneath that rough exterior. He isn’t some terrifying monster waiting to attack at any given moment.

If he was a monster, he wouldn’t take time out of his day to make sure you eat three meals a day.

He wouldn’t ask for your advice on handling anomalies, much less listen as intently as he does.

He wouldn’t let you literally hang around his office and annoy him to no end during your downtime.

You know Miguel’s a good man. Is he a little too stern with the others? Yes. Does he take his job too seriously sometimes? Also yes. But you couldn’t imagine you’d be any other way if you were in his position.

He’s a good boss and a good friend—quite possibly your best friend—someone you trust with your life, and you’re about ninety-eight percent sure he feels the same about you. At least, you hope so. It’s that, or you’ve suddenly become really bad at reading people.

“Widow, come in.”

Speak of the Devil.

“If it isn’t my favorite boss,” you smile, looking down at your watch just in time to see Miguel roll his eyes.

“I’m your only boss.”

“Still my favorite,” you laugh. “What’s up?”

“I need you to meet up with Jess. Lyla—”

“Oh, wait, let me guess! Lyla detected another anomaly, and you need your best spider-person to get the job?”

Miguel doesn’t even look at you, too busy with whatever’s on his monitors, as he lazily shrugs, “Yes, actually—”

“Wait, really?”

“—But he’s stuck on Earth-13122, so you’ll have to do.”

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” you sigh, smile still playing at your lips. You catch the quirk of his lips, the tight swallow as he fights down a laugh.

It’s a shame; he has such a nice smile.

“Jess will fill you in on the details,” Miguel continues, back to business as usual.

“No problem, boss.“ Giving a mock salute, Miguel disappears, and you’re left gazing longingly after his visage. A small sigh escapes you, heart aching at his absence.

So, maybe Miguel isn’t just your best friend. Perhaps you’d like him to be something more, but you’ve been holding on to that hope for years with no indication that his feelings for you run deeper than platonic. It hurts having to deal with that fond pinch of your heart every time you see him, but you’ve resigned to dealing with it.

“You done pining yet, or do you need another minute?”

You damn near jump out of your skin at Jess’s voice, whirling around to come face-to-face with her.

“Oh hey, Jess! I didn’t see you there.” You try to laugh it off, looking everywhere but the woman smirking at you.

“Sure,” she teases. “You were too busy making eyes at—“

“Miguel said something about an anomaly?” you cut her off quickly. She gives you one last look that says you’ll definitely be talking about this later before shifting into business mode.

“We got a report about an unusually strong anomaly,” Jess explains, tapping away on her watch. “Due to the conditions of the universe he’s stuck in, Miguel thought you’d be the best for the job.”

A swirl of inter-dimensional orange mixes with the lush tropics of your universe’s floating islands behind her.

“He…did?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“His exact words were, and I quote, There’s no one better suited for the job. He asked me to come along to help you.”

“No, he didn’t,” you scoff. It isn’t unusual for you to be one of the first ones called to deal with anomalies, but it’s certainly not normal for you to take point.

“You can ask Lyla,” Jess shrugs as the portal blinks opens.

“Why? What’s up with this universe that I’m needed, specifically?”

Jess’s mouth quirks into a knowing grin, waving you over with one foot in the portal.

“You’ll see.”

“I thought you said it was one anomaly!” you scream at Jess, tucking and rolling down another massive sand dune to dodge an incoming swing from the amalgamation of muscles, tendons, and cybernetics that make up the anomalous Lizard.

“There was!” Jess shouts back, kicking off the undead Electro, who looks a little too much like an oversized Frankenstein’s Monster for you to take him seriously.

“Obviously not!” you huff. The unforgiving sun bears down on the four of you, the golden light of this universe’s eternal sunset reflecting off the molten sand. The grains scratch at your suit, visible heat waves rolling over the endless desert.

You duck from another swing of The Cyber-Lizard’s tail, sliding across the sand as he gives chase. You can see the heated sand pulling the moisture from his skin every time he touches it, the coarse epidermis cracking and splitting open.

Miguel was right about one thing, you think. The burning sunset colors of your suit shift with the sands, your skin absorbing every heatwave that rolls by to energize you. There really was no one better suited for the job.

The next time Cyper-Lizard leaps for you, you turn and run, trying to get closer to Jess and the Zombie-Electro. She holds her own well enough—you’d expect nothing less—despite having to abandon her bike to the difficult terrain of this universe.

“Jess, get down!” you shout, sliding down a sand dune toward her. She crouches down, and you launch yourself off the dune, soaring over her.

Zombie-Electro takes the opportunity to attack, one arm extending with a horrendous groan. The jagged bolts of electricity keeping him hovering in the air spark and stretch up his stitched-together body, preparing to launch from his hand.

You beat him to the punch, shooting a web that blocks his hand as you collide with him mid-air. He groans and swats at you, but you’re too quick, attaching to webbing on his hand and crawling around the length of his body.

You’re a chaotic blur of sticky silk, oranges, and reds, webs shooting from every direction as you wrap Zombie-Electro into a massive cocoon, trailing webs around him and shooting off the sticky fibers to tether him to the sandy ground.

Using his head as a springboard, you launch off of him, landing gracefully next to Jess.

“Not bad,” she laughs, staring up at your makeshift monument to watch your webs solidify.

“All in a day’s—“

“Move!”

The blunt force hits you first, the searing pain of heated metal sinking in a second later as Cyber-Lizard’s tail slams into your torso and launches you into the air.

You hear Jess shouting, and your watch beeps. The sand sparkles, a flash of orange across the ocean of molten gold beneath you, and something pulls you out of the air.

You land at the base of your Zombie-Electro tower, or rather Miguel lands with you held firmly in his arms.

“Oh hey, boss,” you say airily. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Though you can’t see his face, he groans, and you know he’s rolling his eyes. Miguel sets you on your feet, waiting an extra second to make sure you can stand on your own.

Pain blossoms across your torso, but your suit works fast to absorb the heat from Cyber-Lizard’s tail and use it to relax your muscles.

“I’m good, promise,” you wheeze, leaning against one of your web pillars. “Go help Jess.”

“Stay here,” Miguel commands before taking off.

“Yeah, no problem,” you nod, waiting until he’s joined the fight to slide to the ground and collapse against your webbing. “I’ll just hang here with my new friend.”

Zombie-Electro groans, a slight shock of electricity traveling down your webs to zap your shoulder.

Your peace doesn’t last long, a massive roar—more the sound of metal screeching against shredded vocal cords—echoing across the dunes. You barely have time to react, getting to your feet—ribs screaming at you in protest—just as Miguel and Jess come flying toward you.

Jess recovers easily, bracing herself and sliding across the sand to stop on your left, while Miguel collides with the harsh structure of your webs on your right.

“Welcome back,” you laugh, holding a hand out to Miguel. He takes it with a huff, using your body as an anchor to jump to his feet. “Think we should call for back—“

“No,” Miguel snaps, and you exchange a look with Jess.

“Miguel—“ You step forward, reaching out to him, but pain shoots up your ribs, knees buckling. They’re quick to catch you, Miguel wrapping an arm around you to keep you upright, and Jess keeping your head from hitting the web-scaffolding.

“We should—“

The familiar shiver crawls up your spine, settling into your brain, the chittering hiss echoing in your mind.

You react a split second before Jess can, the surge of adrenaline giving you the added strength to shove Jess and Miguel away from you as Cyber-Lizard’s claws tear into your back.

You react on pure instinct and survival.

Both hands braced against your web scaffolding, your suit expels all its collected heat in a massive blast. Cyber-Lizard roars as the heat hits the alloy of his cybernetics, the metal already beginning to melt.

He stumbles, but the base of your webs liquify under your touch, and you use the tacky silk to pull him into you just as the entire scaffolding collapses.

Everything feels…heavy.

Distant.

A constant ebb and flow of consciousness like you’re trapped underwater, waves crashing over you whenever you break the surface.

You’re awake, but you aren’t; still present in your body, aware of your surroundings, but unable to move or react.

You hear people talking around you, sometimes quietly, sometimes urgent. There’s beeping and whirring and occasionally the phantom pain of something pinching into your arm.

It all settles into quiet, and you’re left with your scattered thoughts and a gentle pressure in the palm of your right hand.

Thirst is the first thing to hit you when you wake up.

Your throat’s too dry to make noise, but your eyes peel open and instantly move to take note of your surroundings.

You’re back at HQ, lying in the infirmary without your mask.

Guess the anomalies were taken care of.

You feel the dull ache across your body, and you’re sure you have a collection of bruises and bumps to take care of. You can already feel the heat of your suit encasing your skin and working to help you heal. You wiggle your toes, roll your shoulders, then flex your hands. Everything’s working fine, except…

You flex your right hand again, feeling that same solid pressure in your palm. You squeeze, putting as much strength as you can muster into it.

What is—

“Stop it.”

Your head snaps to the right, ignoring the pain that shoots down your neck. Miguel sits in a chair beside your bed, eyes shut with one arm crossed over his chest and the other…

You turn your hand, fingers lacing through his as you squeeze again, far more gently this time.

He opens his eyes, peering down at you with his best stern look. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks so tired, with deep bags under his bloodshot and swollen eyes, and stress lines more prominent.

“You look like shit.” You rasp out a laugh. Miguel raises an unamused brow, giving you a blatant once over as if to say have you seen yourself. You roll your eyes, carefully turning your head back to look at the ceiling.

“Did you catch—”

“Yes.”

“Is Jess oka—”

“Yes.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“Furious.”

You nod, eyes sliding shut as you wait for the inevitable lecture. You wait a few seconds, then ten, then thirty. When Miguel doesn’t speak after a minute, you chance another glance at him to find him staring down at your linked hands with a look of blatant worry on his face.

“I’m okay,” you say softly, thumb running hesitantly across the back of his hand.

This is uncharted territory for you. Of course, he’s been worried about you before, but nothing more than asking if you were hurt after a mission.

He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“You flat-lined.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. Miguel scoffs out a laugh, turning to look at you with a shocked expression.

“You’re apologizing? For almost dying?” he asks in pure disbelief. You shrug, eyes focused on the ceiling. He shakes his head, muttering something to himself that you don’t catch.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” you mumble. Miguel sighs, hand sliding out of your grip—you already miss the warmth—as he leans back from you. A hurricane of emotions swirls inside you: shame, embarrassment, anger, heartache.

You could accept him being mad, but the least he could do was thank you for saving his life.

Your bed dips, and suddenly Miguel is hovering over you, large hands cradling your face and claws gently scratching against your temples.

Your mind goes blank, unable to look away from the intensity of his earthy brown gaze.

“You’re supposed to say, I’ll be more careful next time, Miguel,” he says, stern and low.

“I’ll be more careful next time, Miguel,” you repeat, blinking up at him.

He leans closer, voice soft, “I won’t put myself in harm’s way again, Miguel.”

“I won’t put myself in harm’s way again, Miguel.”

He leans closer again, inches away from your face.

“I promise to never leave you, Miguel.”

Your breath hitches, and you bring your hands up to lightly caress his. You know what he's gone through, the things that he's lost, the distance he's put between himself and any sort of real connection. It had been one of your main reasons for keeping your feelings to yourself, content to treasure your friendship.

You never imagined that he pictured you as anything more.

“Miguel—” he stills at the sound of your voice, “—I promise to never leave you.”

You barely get the words out before his mouth is on yours, years' worth of swallowed feelings and tension pouring out.

If this is a dream, you never want to wake up.

Miguel pulls away first, pressing his forehead to yours with a long exhale. “You know you’re not going on any missions for a while, right?”

“I could use a vacation,” you laugh, leaning up for another peck on his lips. “Spend some time with my favorite boss.”

He shakes his head, looking down at you with nothing but unfiltered affection. He kisses you again, quick and chaste, before leaning up to kiss your head, lips murmuring against your skin, “Get some rest.”

You nod, and he pulls away, standing from the bed. You expect him to leave, to head back to his office, but instead, he takes the seat next to the bed and leans back.

He works from his watch while you nod in and out of sleep. Exhaustion finally catches up with you, and the last thing you see is Lyla appearing on his shoulder with a wide, teasing grin, laughing, “About time.”

some spider facts!

✧ reader is based on the noble false widow spider, more specifically, the genus Steatoda Nobilis!

“Oh hey, Jess! I didn’t see you there.” You try to laugh it off, looking everywhere but the woman smirking at you.

✧ false widow spiders are known to have poor eyesight!

A swirl of inter-dimensional orange mixes with the lush tropics of your universe’s floating islands behind her.

✧ false widows were originally found in warm, tropic areas before spreading across the united kingdom and the us! they are also known to be ambush hunters, often going after flying prey from high up!

Miguel was right about one thing, you think. The burning sunset colors of your suit shift with the sands, your skin absorbing every heatwave that rolls by to energize you. There really was no one better suited for the job.

✧ false widows are often a combination of burnt red and orange colors, and can survive and thrive in extremely dry and hot areas without water!

You’re a chaotic blur of sticky silk, oranges, and reds, webs shooting from every direction as you wrap Zombie-Electro into a massive cocoon, trailing webs around him and shooting off the sticky fibers to tether him to the sandy ground.

✧ false widows often use the "attack wrap" against prey where their silk is quickly wrapped tightly around their victim

“Not bad,” she laughs, staring up at your makeshift monument to watch your webs solidify. *

✧ false widow cobwebs are similar to sticky fibers, while their scaffold silk is exceptionally strong! i embellished here a little to make reader's webs able to transfer between the two as they need it!

[carnivorousyandeere]

On today’s episode of “how fucked up is too fucked up” but I’m also pretty sure other people have thought of this before… anyways PLEASE heed the warnings this one is extremely morbid. I don’t want to tell you what to do but if you’re in a bad headspace this probably won’t help;;;

CW: death (including potential death of Darling/Reader), kidnapping, psychological trauma, abandonment issues, Stockholm syndrome (or is it?), learned helplessness, potential starvation, suicidal/depressed thoughts

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

It’s terrifying when your captor leaves to go to work.

Leaving you alone for hours on end, with no connection to the outside world. They even get jealous of movie characters— the only visage you might see, the only voice you might hear are theirs. You don’t even have a clock to tell you the time. Minutes drag into hours into days, alone in their basement. Sometimes they turn up the lights too bright as punishment. Sometimes they turn the lights off as punishment. Sometimes they forget. It’s hard, not knowing when they’ll be back. If they’ll come back.

You think maybe the ticking of a clock would only drive you madder.

You hate yourself for the way your heart soars when that basement door opens. It used to be because you thought somebody else would walk through it, somebody other than them; someone coming to rescue you. Now you’re happy to see them, in your way, clinging to them like the lifeline that they are. They’ve made themself your only chance at food, water, medicine. Every day they come home is probably another day you get to live— unless they finally snap completely and kill you. Sometimes you wish they would.

They think you love them, what with the way you hug them when they come home. You’re just relieved that they’re alive.

Every day, you sit in the dark and worry. Worry that this time, they won’t come home. They’ll leave you, or get in an accident. They have no family or close friends, nobody to come check on their house while they’re gone. They pushed everyone away in their pursuit of you, after all. How long will it take for anyone to find you? When one mortgage payment is missed? Two?

By then, you’ll have starved to death. Even if you escaped the basement, you’re not sure you have it in you to call for help… to try and reach the outside world you haven’t seen for so long. What if you sit there and die, right inside the door, inches from freedom? You can feel your spirit crumbling; you don’t know if you’d have the strength to leave, now. Maybe that’s what would prompt a search of the house— your own scent of decay, and flies in the windows…

Your fingers dig into their shirt, burying your face in it too, letting their body heat and heartbeat soothe your worries. You can almost forget how much you hate them when they hold you so tenderly in return.

[ideaofheaven]

— LESS SUGAR (onew x reader)

Synopsis: A playful first impression with a certain shining idol in your own coffee shop takes your life into an interesting turn. A merge of two worlds, you never expect Jinki to provide you company and comfort. But he does, all the while ordering lattes and pastries.

Pairing: Lee Jinki x fem!reader

Genre: coffee shop!au, idol!Jinki, fluff (like, lots of fluff), piniiiing, angst, smut

Word count: 17376 words (lmao its a SLOW burn)

Warnings: sakura jinki!! (Yeah it’s a warning), mentions of diet, implied depressive episodes, heavy make out, vaginal fingering, Jinki big dick agenda, domsub undertones, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie (careful folks), minors dni!

AN: Happy 525 everyone! What other perfect timing to celebrate my love for SHINee’s leader. But actually, I wrote this one almost 2 years ago now?? And I thought yeah no way this will stay in drafts forever. I just need a sweet fic for dearest Jinki, you know? Please enjoy!

+++

You empty a box of newly arrived goods. After a few considerations, maybe you should’ve arranged the displays at night when you have more time instead of in the mornings before you open the store. But they look fine as it is; the coffee grounds are lined up neatly, and the rustic decors compliment them well. Deciding the shop is all ready, you check the time. It’s only a few minutes before 7 o’clock, so you flip the wooden sign from ‘close’ to ‘open’.

Almost a year has passed since you opened your own cafe. The journey wasn’t a walk in the park. From the loans, experimenting in your apartment kitchen, and the amount of time and energy spent gathering the resources. But you made it, now owning a small cafe that can house up to fifteen customers. Often perceived as a friendly person, you managed to gather a handful of regulars.

The bell chimes, and you turn to see your regular coming in through the door. “Good morning, Eunmi!” You chirp, before noticing her gloomy visage. “You look particularly bright today. The usual?”

The regular, Eunmi, is a working woman who lives nearby with her husband. She sighs before nodding. "I only slept for a couple of hours.” She drags herself to the counter. “Do you remember that co-worker I told you about?”

She rambles on, complaining about this and that while you tinker with your coffee machine. Occasionally you laugh, but you mostly take your time to listen. Eunmi is the one who requested you to open the store earlier. Not having any problem with mornings, you happily oblige. Ever since, with a raging need for someone to vent to and a caffeine boost, she visits daily.

“You should take a day off,” you advise while finishing off the beverage. You grab the paper cup carefully, gesturing to Eunmi who’s still sitting down. “One almond caffe mocha to go.”

“I’ll think about it,” she murmurs tiredly as she gets up, dragging herself to her coffee. “I’m off, then. Thanks for the drink!”

With a wave, she leaves the cafe. There goes your early morning regular. You go back to your favorite pastime, rearranging the items on your shelf. You are contemplating putting the house blend on the front counter to replace the Vietnamese Arabica when the door chimes. Delighted, you shout, “Welcome!”

A man walks in hesitantly. At that moment, you can't possibly recognize him. He wears a mask and a baseball hat. The hoodie and the dark jeans make him appear like one of the people from your neighborhood. 

What you notice is that he’s a new customer, and his eyes are... pretty.

You push the last thought aside and switch to your customer service mode. “Here’s the menu,” you gush, your voice sounding too pitchy to your ears. The man blinks at you before his gaze falls on the printed paper.

Your mind betrays you and chooses to zone in on the man before you. He’s tall. His dark brown hair stops above the nape of his neck with soft strands of fringe framing his defined heart-shaped face. Though it's hidden by the mask, you can see his high cheekbones. Despite that, you can’t help but focus on his hooded soft brown eyes.  From your place behind the counter, you’ve seen many attractive people. You noticed their neat makeup, their perfectly curled hair, their luscious lips, or the way they dress. Being attracted to someone’s eyes seems incredulous. But even his eyebrows look nicely groomed.

He lifts his gaze which inevitably meets yours. Your stomach lurches in embarrassment and you stupidly let out an “oh” before putting your best smile. Please don’t notice. “What would you like to order?”

If he notices, he doesn’t show any sign. “Can I have a brown sugar latte to go?” 

His voice sounds like the drink itself; warm, sweet, and syrupy. You perk up. “Great choice. Will that be all?” The man tilts his head, humming. Cute.

“Make it with an extra shot of espresso.” You’re already grabbing the pack of grounds when you respond with good humor, “Tough day ahead?” At that, he chuckles, low and bright at the same time. Warm and syrupy indeed. “Everyday is a tough day at work.”

You laugh, but perhaps the curiosity in your expression is too obvious, because the mysterious customer’s eyes crinkle with amusement. 

“It's tough work, but I love my job,” he says in what you perceive as teasing. 

“Sure, sure,” you snicker, now pouring measured liquid brown sugar into the paper cup. You’re confident in your coffee-making skills, and you can’t wait to hear his reaction. Maybe he can join your not-so-long list of regulars.

“Brown sugar latte with double shot.” You give him the paper cup. “Enjoy!”

Another eye crinkle smile grazes his covered face. With a closer look, there’s a slight jaw movement behind his mask. “Thank you very much,” he responds and you notice the formality. “By the way, do you happen to sell any food?”

You bite the insides of your mouth. “Yes, but I only stock them later,” you explain ruefully. “The bakery usually delivers the pastries at 9 o’clock. I apologize.” You bow and he immediately raises both of his hands, waving them frantically. 

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay. What do you have?”

“We have a selection of buns, scones, pound cakes, egg tarts,” you gush. “They’re all delicious. But I personally like their traditional pastries. Injeolmi, red bean rice cake, yakbap, fried tteok dumplings. Auntie does a great job every time.” 

Unlike other cafes that bake their own food, you work together with the local bakery that happens to make the best traditional pastries you’ve ever tried. You know they aren’t as popular as the more western pastries, but they always pull the older customers to your cafe, even becoming your regulars.

His eyebrows shoot up all of a sudden, “You have yakbap?” He asks in apparent surprise which you mirror excitedly. “Yes! Oh my god, do you like them?” He nods. “Would you like to try? I can have them stocked tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that too much trouble?”

"Of course not. But," you emphasize. "You have to come visit tomorrow morning. Promise?” The surge of boldness takes you out of nowhere. He’s just one customer who only bought one drink, but you can’t deny the urge to see him again. So when you saw the chance, you knew you had to take it.

“I will, I promise,” he chuckles and your worries melt away, swept away by the soothing voice of his promise.

+++

At 8 o’clock, the door chimes. You almost jump from behind the counter.

“Good morning,” the man from yesterday greets you with a small bow. Today he’s wearing a dark jacket over a simple tee. Without yesterday's baggy clothes, the outfit centers on his broad shoulders well. A mask is still in place, but now without the hat, you can see more of him. At least more of his soft-looking short brown hair. A surge of familiarity rushes through you. After a quick run through your memories, your mind comes up blank. You shrug off the thought but he’s faster to notice you zoning out.

“What? I promised, didn’t I?” He mumbles, and you respond with a small laugh, “You did.”

You usher him to the counter, pulling out a small basket. “Now here’s my end of the deal.”

“What’s all this?” He glances in the basket. Inside is a handful of pastries, covered neatly in plastic wrap. “There’s so many!” 

You smile proudly. “I asked the bakery for a sampler basket. So these are their best-sellers. We have a kaya bun, blueberry lemon scone, garlic basil bread, yakbap,” you wink, “fried tteok dumplings, and red bean rice cake.”

“Wait--”

“And I’ll give you a special price.” You send him another cheeky grin, and you feel triumphant when you see his resigned face.

“I didn’t expect you would prepare a whole basket… But thank you,” he sighs before breaking into one of his eye-smiles. It looks so familiar and the feeling starts to gnaw at you once more. Like reaching out to remember a dream, it feels close yet you can't come up with a name to associate his face with. You snap back to reality, hearing him say something in your direction. “Yes?”

“I’d like to have the drink from yesterday,” he states almost giddily. “It’s delicious. I thought it’d be too sweet.”

Oh. You cover a smile with the back of your hand, secretly proud of yourself. Elated, you lean in before you even know it, catching your customer's attention.

“Be sure to come back for more, then.” Right after the words leave your mouth, you recoil. You sound like you were flirting, and you don't flirt with customers.

“Oh, don’t mind if I do." You stare at him in surprise, seeing the teasing glint in his eyes. Flustered, your throat tightens.

“R-right. One brown sugar latte coming up.” Warm, sweet, syrupy… Sticky.

After finishing the latte with sprinkles of cinnamon powder on top, you put the plastic cap on and bring it to your only customer. The man is sitting in the corner, on one of the chairs that has its back on you. He's eating a piece of yakbap from a plastic wrapper when you approach the table. “Here’s-"

Perhaps, that day you forget that people eat with their mouths. Uncovered. In the end, nothing prepares you to witness the face behind the mask.

A few weeks ago, you were watching TV on your couch. One of your favorite dramas had just ended, so you were stuck watching a random variety show. Loud screams pierced your ears, making you jump so you checked the show. A couple of people were sitting at the table, and one of them, a handsome young man with light brown hair and lovely eyes, was reenacting his version of the famous Gwiyomi song. What a weird guy, you thought with a laugh while seeing him kiss each of his fingers just a little too passionately.

“- your drink,” you finish shakily. The new information almost freezes you in place but you put on your best (worst, stiff) customer service smile anyway. Defying another expectation, Onew - oh god, it is him - takes the paper cup from your hand. Your fingers touch briefly and you swear there's a jolt that tickles. The idol is staring at you with a hint of worry, indicating he knows the cat's out of the bag.

You should leave him be, he might be uncomfortable. But then, a sight of empty plastic wrappers catches your attention. "How's the food?" You inquire placidly. Creative.

The worry in his face dissipates very slightly and you realize how different he looks now without the mask. You can see the plump lips parting before he says, "You're right, they're so good."

The compliment somehow melts your worries. 

"Right? They taste exactly the same since I was a child. Auntie had just started baking the western pastries a few years ago, but she’s too tired to run the bakery full-time. So I thought having her pastries in my cafe would be perfect," you stop, internally scolding yourself for rambling all that to the celebrity, "I talk too much don't I?"

"You own this cafe?" The man asks instead, his mouth gaping and eyes wide. Adorable.

"Owner, barista, waitress, slash everything," you rub the back of your neck, pressured by the questioning gaze he has on you. Without his mask, he seems more intense. Or, you are subconsciously affected by his idol status. While this is not the first time you meet a celebrity from behind the counter, it is the first time you're engaged in conversation with them. Especially with someone of a high tier like him. Someone amazing.

"That's amazing." His voice echoes, jolting you back to reality

"What?" You sputter. He definitely notices you zoning out because his smile - you can see his mouth now, oh god - is too mischievous and knowing. This is getting too much.

Rigidly, you peek into the paperbag, noticing the amount of pastries left. "What are you going to do with them?" Onew looks at the paperbag before standing up and grabbing the bag. "I'll share them with people at work."

You step back with a laugh. "Do you think they'll like it?"

"I think they will. Well, some can't enjoy it due to… a strict diet. But one won't hurt." Onew takes his coffee in one hand, and the paperbag in the other. He raises both hands slightly, gesturing with the items. "Thank you. I'll be going now."

"No,” you begin tentatively, “Thank you, Onew." 

You internally pat yourself on the back for letting that out.

His ever so expressive eyebrows rise before he lets out a bark of laughter. "Well, isn't that unfair."

"What is?"

"I see you know my name already," he supplies, staring down at you with a pretty gummy smile. "But I don't know yours."

Heat rushes to your cheeks when his words sink into your brain. You would pray it wouldn't show but you find your tongue unable to form useful words. Instead, as an uncontrolled fight or flight reaction, it responds haughtily, "Come back tomorrow, and I'll tell you."

You curse the random unsolicited rush of courage. But Onew's surprised expression is already morphing into a half smirk, and you can't decide if you regret it.

"Deal. I'll see you tomorrow, miss."

Exactly one minute after the door closes, you curl up on the floor and let out a groan. What just happened?

+++

Jinki knows he shouldn't be doing this.

That morning, he woke up exactly three hours before his first schedule of the day. The warm sunlight tempted him to go for a jog, but the ache crawling through his body reminded him what a bad idea that was. The day before, the dance instructor had drilled them with another wild choreography, and in the morning, his joints were positively protesting.

So he took a walk. Enjoying the sunlight, he left the rows of high-rise apartments for the quiet residential complex. The bustle of the crowded market and gossipy house-wives felt like a calming noise, and he continued his walk until he turned one corner.

Nothing should've caught his attention, but everything did. The shop's facade of pale red bricks was a splash of color in between the other buildings. A couple of vintage lantern lamps decorated the shop, and there were wooden signs with intricate lettering on the wall and glass door. Jinki realized it was a coffee shop, a small one. There and then he thought he needed his caffeine, and the nearest Starbucks was blocks away. So he went in, met the cute barista, got a delicious latte, and left.

And ever since, he keeps coming back for more.

“Someone enjoys visiting this little place,” she laughs one morning, cocky and amused. It’s his visit for the third time in a row. Borrowing her high energy and boldness, he smirks in reply.

"You’re the one who asked me, though," he mentions, holding a small cup of her manual brew. A new house blend, she had mentioned. It has a subtle sweetness to it, which Jinki likes.

"Asked what?"

"To come back here." 

She chuckles, that rare hint of shyness surfacing once more. "I was just messing around."

But he wasn't, and back then, he would do anything to get to know her name. So the day after her request, Jinki returned. After an order of one brown sugar latte and five miscellaneous pastries, all to-go, Jinki sat down and propped his chin on top of his folded hands, waiting. His legs were fidgeting, a sign of anticipation and nervousness that he was well attuned with.

"Are you dining in?" She asked, probably feigning innocence, as she shuffled through various packets of coffee. What a tease.

"No," he responded curtly.

She moved away from the shelves to the edge of the counter, facing him. Oh, she's doing this on purpose. With a hand covering her mouth, she laughed silently. Jinki thought she shouldn't hide her laughter, or her smile, because it’s pretty and bright, just like her. 

"I'm sorry, I owe you something, don't I?" She asked sweetly, like those drinks she makes for him.

"Yes, you do." Jinki managed out, a crooked smile gracing his lips in a low effort intimidation.

"Okay, okay," she resigned. "You should make a habit of checking the bill, Onew."

Realization hit him and he rushed to pull the bill out of his pocket. There, written in neat handwriting, was a name. In awe, he said it once, testing it on his tongue—and he heard a crash.

"Oh--oops," she clambered to grab the fallen coffee packages. Jinki was wondering how attached this woman was to her coffee supply before he took a glance at her face. Pink tinted her cheeks and he wouldn't lie, it was a sight to see. Presumably annoyed, she was about to say something but Jinki just called her name once more, abruptly stopping her. So he raised his chin, taking a better look at the flustered barista with a satisfactory smile, “Everything okay back there?”

She nodded once before turning away, cheeks still flaming as she broke their eye contact. He just laughed. Cute.

Today, he finds himself once more in front of her store. Earlier, he found out Minho already had plans to visit his mother, and so, Jinki was left alone in the dorms. He's used to being alone in the apartment, but today he has a particular yearning to be somewhere else but home.

"Onew," she greets, ever so cheerful in the mornings. "The usual?"

Despite the merciless schedule in his line of work, Jinki hasn't met a lot of morning people. Especially the ones who are comfortable with an early schedule by nature. It took him years after debuting before his internal alarm worked properly. And after hundreds of cranky morning schedules, he finally could manage his mood well. She must have been born with the sun smiling upon her. Perhaps that is her destiny, to wake up effortlessly and share her energy through caffeinated beverages. Jinki has an urge to ask if she ever stays up late, maybe later.

"Actually, can I have an iced americano?" Jinki asks after a quick glance at the menu. This time he needs something with less sugar.

She is beaming, as usual. "Sure. But I recommend you drink it fast, it's warm outside—"

"I'm having it here." Jinki already grabs a seat, putting his bag and pulling out a book. Her expression is a mixture of confusion and delight. "...Is it okay?"

"Of course!" She exclaims all too fast before rushing to her tools.

An amicable silence stretches. Hisses and clamor from behind the counter occasionally fill the air, but otherwise it's quiet. After endless days in a loud environment, he appreciates the silence. He can’t remember the last time he sat still like this, without TV or a Youtube video to accompany him. He takes his book, a best-selling novel he picked up from the airport months ago during his work trip, and starts reading it. When his iced americano arrives, he thanks her properly and dives back into the story.

It's peaceful. At some point, she puts on music. Slow to medium-tempo songs in foreign languages, and it doesn't disrupt his reading, in fact, he enjoys it.

During his stay, customers come and go. He can't see them, because his back is facing the major part of the cafe. But he can hear them clearly. And interestingly, they talk a lot. One customer, a young girl, comes up to you, gets a large glass of iced chocolate milk, and proceeds to tell you about her crush. Another, an elderly man who apparently visits regularly, orders one hot barley tea and a red bean paste bun. Then he starts to give her updates on his newborn grandchild. Jinki hears her squeal before she asks for the man’s wife or daughter.

He finds all the interaction endearing, somehow.

"So, what's the occasion?"

The sun is now high up in the sky, signalling it's nearing noon. Jinki was feeling tiny pricks of hunger when she appeared near his table, a few tupperware in hand. "It gets lonely," she said cheekily. With each little talk they exchange, Jinki wonders why he didn’t ask her to sit here earlier, enjoying her company very much. And not before long, she offered some of her food to him, which he accepted with little resistance.

“You’ve never dined in before, what’s the occasion?”

Jinki takes one slice of rolled omelet with his chopsticks. "It's my day off," he answers.

"You have a day off, and you came here?" She looks up from her food and gapes at him. He nods.

"The apartment's empty, Minho is visiting his parents."

"It must be lonely."

"Not anymore,” he responds in earnest, and a grin emerges when he sees her fluster. Jinki is not a prideful person. He doesn’t absorb compliments like it’s his source of energy. However, knowing he can affect people like this, especially in such tight interaction, does boost his ego in a productive way. Additionally, he enjoys seeing her reaction. She’s very put together, confident, sometimes cheeky, but those rare moments when she gets caught off guard charm him. It’s like her fire turns into cotton candy, all cute and sweet.

Jinki can’t get enough of her.

“Is that one of your killer moves, Onew-ssi?” She says, hiding her strangled laugh by raising her chin with defiance. But he knows better. See? Charming.

He puts his chopstick down, and proceeds to lean his head on one knuckle. The gesture seems to affect her, because her smile falls and she’s blinking rapidly at him. “No, it’s not," he states before an idea pops into his head. "Call me Jinki."

Her mouth falls open. “What?”

“Please call me Jinki.”

He watches as she gapes wordlessly, like a cat got her tongue. In the end, she just nods softly, saying a quiet “Okay,” with a bashful whisper of his name. Hearing it, Jinki can’t help the giddiness bubbling inside him and a smug smile that graces his lips. His name sounds pretty on her tongue, and he immediately knows he will want to hear it more. 

Jinki thinks maybe that is his killer move.

+++

To have a celebrity coming back to your cafe, and getting to know them is an oddly enjoyable experience.

One morning Onew--no, Jinki arrives with all his attention on his phone. He’s typing furiously before craning his neck to see you. “(Y/n),” he says in an exaggerated whine, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting comically cute, “Kibum is being mean to me. He said we can’t hang out today. I’m so sad. I need my sad coffee so can you please get me a--”

“Jinki, don’t--”

“A despresso?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh audibly, a fond grin in place, making him snicker as he rubs the back of his head.

"Get it? Like espresso but depress-"

"Yes, Jinki. I get it."

Every time Jinki visits, you enjoy his company. Granted, he’s not the type to talk much, and when he does, he always manages to surprise you. You don’t know what’s worse, his dad jokes, or the fact that he’s not aware how much he’s driving you crazy. Does he know his teasing words can be wrongly interpreted as flirting? Does he know he looks good in even worn out shirts? Does he know you start to think he's been coming here not only for the coffee? With that being said, you weren’t prepared for Jinki’s presence in close proximity almost everyday.

"Whatcha' doing?" Jinki asks, his face leaning over the high counter, peeking into your workspace. His mask is off, and like his perfect face is not distracting enough, he's wearing a black sweater that snug nicely on his body. You notice how broad his shoulders are, or how his collarbones look so prominent, hanging above defined pecs. Focus, you have a job.

"I'm trying to make a new drink," you reply, measuring in teaspoons of the powder you prepared. You take the recently bought bamboo whisk to mix the powder. New tools in the kitchen always get you excited, especially if it’s your first time using it.  "Do you know hojicha?"

He tilts his head, thinking, and you wonder if it's necessary for him to jut his lower lips like that. "No. Is it Japanese?"

"Mmhm, it's Japanese roasted green tea.” You start whisking the water and the hojicha powder, and Jinki gawks. As the mixture gets frothy, you elaborate. "I've been wanting to try to make it, maybe someone will be interested." Grabbing another cup, you mix the diluted powder and the milk, the ash-colored tea mixture turning the milk into gray-ish brown. "They say it tastes best with milk."

"Ah, really?" Without a warning, Jinki shots one hand forward, taking the glass from your nimble hand. You yelp at the sudden movement. He then takes a big gulp, craning his neck to drink it properly and you can't take your eyes off of his Adam's apple as it moves with each gulp, and the veins running on his neck. Shit. He pulls the glass away, and using his other hand, he wipes his mouth. Your throat goes dry. 

Unaware of your struggle, he hums, "It's good. Bitter, but good.”

Shaking yourself back to reality, you take a deep breath. "I was about to say I hadn't put the sugar in."

"I think you don’t need it. Or just put a little," he grins, gesturing the aforementioned amount with his index finger and thumb, a small distance lingers between them. His fingers are pretty, you think absentmindedly. His other hand puts the empty glass back onto the counter. "You're really good at this."

At that, your heart swells with pride. "Of course, I don't want my customers to go."

"Me as well?"

"You as well,” you state, genuine. You can tell him that as much. “My early morning was never this fun."

Jinki snorts. “Me? Fun?” He asks, pointing a finger at himself. “People say I’m weird.”

“No offense, Jinki, I didn’t say you’re not weird.” The man barks a laugh and you join in. “But that’s what makes you fun. You're not boring."

Not for the first time, you witness his expression turn sheepish, almost shy and awkward. His fingers fidget behind his folded arms. But he quickly recovers, waving off your compliment.

"What about the other customers?"

The question perks your attention. "I have the best regulars," you reply, thinking of all your customers and their anecdotes. "I love talking to them."

"They seem to like gossiping with you."

"They do! Jinki, they talk a lot. There's this lady who will order parfaits only when she's upset or having a fight with her boyfriend. And also the working man who usually comes in evenings, he always asks if I serve alcohol. It's really hilarious—"

"But you always listen to them."

"Of course I do. Like I said, I love talking to them, I really do. Granted, mostly I just listen to them venting out their problems. But I guess it helps and my beverages too - " you stop yourself. "Sorry. D-did I bore you?"

"No, not at all," he answers, short and fast and most definitely teasing. "I enjoyed it. Come on, tell me more." Jinki is still leaning on the counter. His head is in his propped hand, eyes crinkling in amusement, and his plump lips are curling into a soft smile that makes your heart race. You feel warmth crawling on your cheeks.

"Don't say that. Gosh, that was embarrassing." You're still trying to hide your face behind your hands when a large palm lands on your head. You look up, and see Jinki who has straightened his back to full height, looming over you. Then, his hand is in your hair, ruffling it playfully.

"Cute," Jinki coos with a smile that shows his brilliant teeth and melts your insides into goo. After messing with your hair, he pulls his hand back and you swear his fingers brush past your cheekbones, the touch eliciting shivers down your spine. Unbothered, Jinki goes on his merry way and continues talking about random things as if nothing happened.

The audacity.

+++

"Alright, spill, what's up."

Eunmi's voice pulls you back to reality. Smell of food floods your senses, sweet and sour from kimchi and vinegar, and you remember your lunch with Eunmi. You look at your friend who's grabbing her spoon with a slight annoyance clear on her face.

"What? Nothing," you insist, diving back to your buckwheat noodles to avoid her piercing stare. She tsks at you, not buying the excuse.

"Nothing my ass, you've been staring at the pickles this whole time."

You're not in your cafe, in fact, you close it up for a while to have lunch out. Eunmi invited you to a restaurant near her office, only one station away from the store. It’s a cozy diner that’s not too crowded or loud, so you can talk comfortably. Eunmi brings her own car, and promises to drive you back after lunch.

The fact that even Eunmi realizes your weirdness makes you startled. You listen to her a lot, but it’s never the opposite case. You know your friend well enough to understand she won’t usually catch up on your mood swings, especially because you’re not the kind of person who shows your emotion on your sleeves. But that man just won’t leave your mind, not after driving you crazier with each passing day. Jinki keeps coming over, all smiles and charms and never forgetting to compliment you and your drinks.

And for whatever reason, you always end up talking about yourself for a good amount of time. That never happened before, not before him. You prefer to listen, and you do that well. But with Jinki, rarely does he ramble to you, instead it’s the other way around. Without a doubt, you’re getting too comfortable with him. And how can you not? He’s humble, polite, his smile lights up the whole room, and he looks like that. All soft brown hair and handsome.

"I know that face," Eunmi interrupts your trail of thoughts, her face beaming with mischief. You blink your eyes. That can’t be good.  "There's someone, isn't there?"

"What? No!"

"Nu-uh, you can't fool your unnie. You’re smiling like a teenager just now,” she teases while grabbing another spoonful of her dried pollack soup.

You splutter. “I-I did?”

“So, who is it? Come on, tell me something. My coworkers suck and I need some drama."

Cursing your luck, you grumble. Eunmi must be very perceptive to recognize the look on your face. But telling her about Jinki is impossible. You won’t be able to get away by saying “I think Onew from SHINee has been flirting with me non-stop.” It’s going to be a mess--no, a mess would be an understatement.

You take a deep breath, “It’s complicated, okay?”

"Tell me about it." Eunmi snorts.

“I can’t tell you just yet.”

She stares at you directly. “But?”

“It’s just…” You begin, hand already moving to cover your mouth, as if it could help you from the massive embarrassment you feel while discussing this. “I don’t know if I’m reading things correctly,” then, “Like, what if I’m wrong?”

“So you don’t know if he’s into you, or he’s just being nice.”

"Exactly!” you gasp.

She suddenly smirks, leaning back against the chair, "That's easy, just make a move."

"Make a move?"

"Yeah, make a move,” she repeats easily, “Do something similar to what he did to you, and see his reaction. Maybe he's just waiting."

You ponder upon her advice. It’s solid, and actually doable. Albeit unsure, you keep it in mind. "Alright, I’ll try.”

You finish your lunch and go back to the cafe. Eunmi, being the best combination of a friend and a customer, requests a chocolate marshmallow frappe before she returns to her office. Back to your usual place behind the counter, and Eunmi on the chair, she tells you about her vacation plan.

“A long weekend trip with your husband? That’s amazing!” You exclaim to Eunmi who’s radiating happiness.

Eunmi slurps at her drink, humming pleasantly from the sweetness. “Mm-hm,” she responds, the joy radiating from her is a refreshing sight compared to the usual gloom. “We’re going to Damyang.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, patting the older woman’s shoulder. “So you’re leaving tomorrow?” 

She nods. “Finally, a time off from those douchebags.”

You laugh, remembering her stories of the god-awful co-workers, then a jingle halts you.

“Oh, welcome!” You say and immediately feel your stomach drop as you see Jinki. Shit, the timing is so bad. Jinki rarely comes in the afternoon, what's up with the rare occurrence? And just by scanning his clothes, you’re more baffled, because today's outfit today is more extreme than usual. He’s wearing one of his worn out track pants and regular trainers.The grey jacket looks okay but he’s wearing the hoodie over a snapback. You can’t see even a strand of his hair. By default, his mask is also on, so you’re not too worried about him being recognized by Eunmi.

Jinki makes his order, glancing at you with sharp eyes, something he doesn’t usually do because you already know his usual menu. You just respond formally before dashing to where your drink machine is at, from the corner of your eye you see him taking a seat near the corner. Not long after, Eunmi’s face is in front of you, worried.

“He looks sketchy,” she whispers in a rush. Jinki? Sketchy? You bit your lip, trying to hold your blank expression in place, instead of the urge to grin.

“Really? I think he’s been here before, though.”

“How can you recognize him? This guy’s all covered from head to toe, (Y/n). It’s so creepy. I hope your man doesn't look like that."

You almost choke on air. Internally you're praying Jinki didn't hear the last part. “Right, right.” You peek at Jinki with a bothered expression, crafted meticulously to deceive Eunmi. You're definitely going to tease Jinki about this later. “I’ll be careful.”

Eunmi grabs her plastic cup before hoisting the bag up her shoulder. She points her manicured nails at you. “You better be, ‘cause I have to go now. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry,” you smile at your customer. Eunmi waves at you, gives a pointed look at Jinki’s back, and goes out of the store. As soon as the door closes, you slump on your post, letting out a loud and exaggerated sigh. You turn your sight to Jinki and find him facing you in his chair. The shit-eating grin on his face makes you more tired.

"Don't get closer, (Y/n)," he acts out, and you're already rolling your eyes. "I might bite."

You blow a raspberry while striding towards his table, a drink in hand. "Sure, sure, can't trust strangers who wear too many hoodies all the time," you grumble, putting Jinki's iced americano on the table.

The man has the audacity to pout at you in retaliation. "Not all the time."

You giggle. "What's the occasion, then?"

"Nothing." He slurps the black coffee, nonchalant and ridiculously bad at lying.

Baffled, you glare at the man who keeps drinking the beverage without care. With another brief observation, you note his outfit is actually not that different than usual. But he never wears a hoodie and a snapback. You can't even see his hair.

Oh.

“I get it!” You clap your hands excitedly as if you’re a seal. “It’s your hair, isn’t it?”

Jinki hisses through gritted teeth, forcing a crooked grin while his eyes are already looking away from yours. Bingo.

“Is it a new color? Did you cut it short?” 

Mischievously, Jinki puts a finger in front of his plump lips. “Company secret.”

You pout, and he chuckles. The mischief in his face is annoying yet somehow innocent, you can't bring yourself to get mad at him. It doesn’t help that he looks positively entertained by his own game of guess. But you're ever the curious one, and seeing there's no other customer right now, you have to find out what's behind the hat. 

Without much thought, you swat a hand at his snapback, tipping everything that's covering his head backwards. 

"Hey!"

As if in slow motion, the hood of his jacket is pushed back, and the hat falls to the floor. Anticipation builds up in your mind when you realize you’re about to see the hair. You hear Jinki yelp, and—

"It's pink!" You gasp out, overwhelmed. Out of all things, you didn't expect to find a mop of mauve pink colored hair underneath the hat. The shade is slightly muted, making it look less artificial. For some reason, it fits Jinki so well. His lightly tanned skin and the hair combined creates an exotic appearance of him.

Jinki is now pouting again, jutting out his lower lip like the hair is a punishment. "I wanted to surprise you, you know."

You tut at him, but leans down to take Jinki's cap off the floor, dusting it slightly. "How long would I have to wait?"

"Uh, until the comeback?"

"You haven't even announced the date," you reply with an unamused expression.

Jinki chuckles. "That's true." Out of a sudden, he poses. "Ta-da! Now you know I have pink hair." The sight brings warmth, because gosh, he's a sight to see. Then, with a huff, Jinki twirls the locks of the aforementioned hair, playing it around. "It's my first time, too."

You, however, are not paying attention to what he's saying. Questions pop into your head, wondering if Jinki’s hair feels soft like how it looks right now. With the lighting in your store interior, combined with warm natural light from the outside, the hair color looks chrome-like. It’s, no pun intended, shiny. All of a sudden, you feel a strong urge to touch it, curious how it will feel against your fingertips. Albeit hesitant, Eunmi’s words echo in your ears, motivating you to test the waters.

Leaning down, you ignore Jinki’s confused gaze and pull a lock of the sakura-colored hair. Your hunch is proven correct, it’s soft and luscious. As if in entrance, you caress more of his teresses, moving them out of his eyes while your fingertips occasionally graze his ear. You’re positively jealous of the care that goes into this man’s hair. It’s so soft, you want to pet it all day. Jinki can lay his head in your lap and you’ll definitely caress his hair all day long without a single complaint. The thought makes you giddy.

Your silly daydream is abruptly stopped when a large hand closes around your wrist, gentle yet firm. Realizing what you’ve done, you yelp.

“I’m sorry, I just--” You look down from the mop of hair to Jinki’s eyes, wide and as surprised as you. The close proximity catches you off guard. When did you lean in this close? 

All of a sudden, every word dies in your throat. But his next words bring more surprise.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes?"

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Jinki cuts through the endless chatter running in your head. That’s not a question you ask out of nowhere, isn’t it? His voice, as usual, is warm… syrupy, but there’s a darker edge in it that you can’t comprehend. You blink at the question, still mute from the shock.

As if shocked by his own question, he visibly gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing and stealing your attention for a second.

“That customer said something about your man.” he murmurs reluctantly. Realization hits you hard, and your jaw drops. So he did hear your conversation with Eunmi.

“No!” You blurt in a rising panic. “There’s no man. No boyfriend.” With each word, your voice becomes more quiet, the embarrassment sucking away your confidence in front of him. But It doesn't help that Jinki’s scrutinizing you from under his eyelashes, making you shrink even more. Finally, the corners of his lips quirk up.

“Really?” He asks, sounding pleased.

"Yeah. She's just teasing me. She does that a lot," you explain with a nervous laugh. You don't know how convincing your lie is, but it makes him hum, the sound is like music to your ears.

“Good,” he whispers before you feel his thumbs rubbing circles on your wrist, languid and relaxed. The calluses of his thumb drag against your smooth skin and you inhale sharply, feeling ripples of heat course through your body from the touch. His half-lidded eyes are now assessing you and you can’t look away as they move on to your lips. As if falling under a spell, the action triggers you to spontaneously look at his lips in turn, full and parted and driving you crazy.

A loud voice jolts you two back to reality. A ringtone. Phone call.

Jinki lets go of your wrist, now panicking and patting his pockets. "It's mine. Where is it, where is it..." When he finds the phone, he picks it up while standing up. "Yes, hyung?"

You see him walk away with clouded senses. Unable to pick which feeling is appropriate to express, disbelief or relief, you give up and run away from the premises, choosing to bury yourself behind the workspace.

+++

"How did it go with your man?" Eunmi asks, face literally glowing after her vacation.

You only groan in reply.

+++

It's closing time.

Moving on to the table top surfaces, you take a cloth, spraying it with a liquid cleaner and getting it ready to wipe the surface. It's going to take a while, but you don't mind. Cleaning makes your mind wander, but at least you're doing something productive.

It's one of the nights you stay late to tidy up new items and play around in the kitchen. You had finished the second attempt of an earl grey frappe before you began tidying up. The clock struck 10 o'clock a few minutes ago, so it's already an hour after your closing time. You already flipped the sign to close, but your lights are still on, intending to turn them off when you leave the store.

Days had passed after that weird confrontation with Jinki. The close proximity you shared that day still brings you heat and confusion in equal amounts, and Jinki didn't make it easier for you to get through the following days. You never addressed that day, not at all. But do things go back to normal? Not exactly.

Jinki keeps getting closer to you. You notice the brush of his fingers against your skin while passing his drink, when you talk on his table he'd tap your arm, or when he's about to leave he likes to give a playful squeeze on your shoulders. On rare occasions, he would tuck your hair out from your face while smiling sweetly before rucking the tresses into a mess. Unhelpful. In addition, you can’t stop talking to him. The man has an excellent capability to extract words from you, asking things about yourself, from your favorite drink to your life before this cafe. 

With the comeback date getting close, it’s not surprising when he doesn’t visit as often anymore. Once in a few days he’d come through your door and then scream your name, saying a nonsensical “I miss you!” Little did he know you share the same sentiment, but multiplied and definitely lack the jest. 

With his absence, your heart longs more for him. You realize the intangible distance between the two of you has decreased, and you can’t suppress your feelings anymore. It’s silly to fall for an idol, cliche, even. But with his soft demeanor and warm smile that always graces his heart-shaped face, it’s impossible not to.

Despite the admittance of feelings, you’re still in a limbo. You’re not an expert in love. Chasing your dream from a young age, you have no time for romance. You’ve had a fair share of crushes here and there, but never this complicated. It’s impossible to ask for advice, too.

Remembering Eunmi's words, you did make your move on Jinki. And his response was something you never quite get. Did he hate it when you touched his hair? Can you even consider making a move that time a success? Do you even know what success would be like? Many times you stopped yourself from touching him again, whether it’s his hair (which is still bright pink, by the way), or to grab his hand for whatever reason. You’re so drawn to him, like a moth to flames and it’s making you helpless.

By the time you finish polishing the last inch of the counters, the door jingles. An annoyed sigh escapes your mouth, someone doesn’t read the sign on your store. You turn to the door.

"I'm sorry, we're already closed—"

Upon recognizing the visitor, your heart beats faster with surprise and inexplicable yearning. You haven’t seen him in days, and you already forgot what he sounds like. He’s wearing another random baseball hat, but the usual mask is absent. His lips are turned into a frown, his brown eyes, usually so full of life, are unfocused, and the eyebags look prominent. The unusual state makes your stomach twist with discomfort.

"Jinki?” You take a step closer. “It's very late."

The mention of his name jerks him back to reality. Raising his head, his gaze locks with yours wearily. Tentatively, he opens his mouth, trying to get words out, but nothing comes out and he looks away, looking so defeated. Running by instincts, you step closer to him, pulling him by the wrist to drag him in. Now with him standing close to you, you can see the tiredness on his face. The little freckles on his skin are like constellations of stars, you notice he’s not wearing makeup, and you can’t help but find the mole on his chin endearing. He looks so beautiful, but tired.

"Jinki," you call out again, worry lacing each word. "Are you okay?"

As if on cue, Jinki lets out a quiet sigh that makes your heart drop. He doesn’t sound like the usual Jinki you know, and you immediately receive the answer to your question. Gathering your courage, you put a hand on his broad shoulder, and take the other to pull his hat off in order to take a closer look at him. You succeed without any restraint from the man. Then, you rub your hand on the fabric of his shirt, trying to give some sort of reassurance, for what, you don’t know yet, but you’re trying. You see Jinki’s eyes glint for a second, and suddenly a head thumps against your collarbone. Oh. Your hands stop moving, and his hat falls to the floor soundlessly.

Jinki sighs again, this time his warm breath fanning over your clothed shoulder, making you freeze even more. Your head is filled with nothing but the close distance you share with Jinki. His forehead presses firmly on your shoulder, the weight starts to feel heavy, so you stand tall, pushing against the man who’s significantly taller and larger than you, with your hands hanging awkwardly by your sides.

"...It's difficult." You hear him whisper.

You try to peek at him, but all you can see is his soft pink locks. It looks fluffy, despite the hat covering it before, if not slightly damp. Quietly, you inhale his scent, floral and musky but mostly covered by the smell of sweat. It must be from a dance practice. For some reason, you don’t mind it.

"I know my limits, and I've been doing this for years," he murmurs into your shoulders, voice weak and slightly muffled but you still can hear every word. "But it really doesn't get easier."

The words hang in the silent air, with no one speaking afterwards. Deciding to stay and listen, you let him there on your shoulder. Questions run through your head, along with many emotions you’ve never felt before for the man; pity, worry, adoration, and surprise, but you don't dare to speak or ask. Not in such vulnerability.

The next minute runs slowly, and the only thing you can hear in the empty cafe is you and Jinki’s breathing. You hope yours doesn’t sound too fast, but you try to ignore the self conscious thoughts for now.

Suddenly, Jinki tenses and pulls himself away, straightening his back that’s been hunching to reach your height. With his face bare from any makeup, you can see a light flush on his cheeks, and his ears are pink, adorably matching with the hair. He's devastatingly beautiful, and you can’t help but stare in awe. Still drowning in embarrassment, he doesn’t seem to notice.

"I'm very sorry," he whispers, formal all of a sudden, voice still close.

"It's okay." You pat his back with a smile, hoping to cease his groundless embarrassment. "You don't need to apologize, I don't mind."

Jinki looks at you for a moment, mouth parted and eyes expressing an emotion you don’t quite understand, then they turn to crescents as he smiles softly. 

"Really?" He asks, voice surprisingly even, a contrast to the state he was in before, and nimbly you nod. "Can I borrow your shoulder again, then?"

Oh. "Y-yeah." Your stomach does the twisty thing and when Jinki once again lays his head on your shoulder, you can hear your heartbeat going faster, thumping softly in your ears. For god's sake, you hope Jinki won't be able to hear or worse, feel them. Without a warning, Jinki shifts his head to the side, and--is he nuzzling? You swear that’s the tip of his nose touching your neck and now there’s puffs of air caressing your veins.

This is too much. It's your first time being this close with him, and it's not the best time to have physical reactions from this intimacy. Ignoring the shivers crawling on your skin, you will yourself to stay still, and even your breathing.

The two of you stay there. Again, you hear Jinki's breathing, then you hear your own. You’re not a physically affectionate person, but all you wish right now is to embrace him properly, to stroke his back and let him stay there for as long as he needs.

So you do that, you raise a hand to his head, caressing his pink tresses. Almost greedily, he leans into your touch, as if he's been waiting for it. With a fond sigh, you can't hold yourself from ruffling his hair further.

“You’ve worked hard.” 

Maybe those words won’t be enough, but you find no fault in trying.

You hear Jinki inhale sharply, then he exhales in resignation before pulling back. He’s now standing at his full height, and you have to raise your head to see him properly. Relief blossoms when you catch his calm expression. With that, you share a moment of comfortable silence, exchanging unsaid words through intangible mediums. Then, you pat his shoulder twice before moving away from his personal space.

“Sit down, I’ll make you tea,” you declare to the now panicking man, rustling to get the kettle. Jinki's face is glowing, despite the lack of makeup. He looks animated, tired, but breathtaking. It's almost like you're seeing him in a new light.

"I thought you're already closing up," he complains weakly, and you offer him an innocent smile, pulling one tea bag from the box.

The sound of a chair being pulled is your winning declaration.

"You don’t have to.”

"And you have to drink some tea. Chamomile can help you sleep better," you chide, bringing the cup to the table. As you sit down, you see him fiddling with his hands.

"So… How's your day?"

"Like usual," you shrug. "But less fun without you." His face lights up and you stifle a laugh. "I made an earl grey frappe, but it still needs something."

"A new drink? Can I try?"

You smile widely. "I'll make it for you next time."

"Make sure you don't put too much sugar in it," he winks, and it prompts a laugh from you. Jinki looks better now, more refreshed and light but you catch him zoning out a few times, his gaze seemingly focusing on your face, making you squirm internally.

"What?" You ask, noticing him staring at you again. And he just grins, showing off the adorable gummy smile.

"Nothing." And he's back to his tea. By the time he empties his glass, he offers to wash it by himself. You almost drag his hoodie to stop him, but you finally relent - he already rushes to the sink, that man - and lets him do what seems to be one of his ways to thank people. Relieved, you start to recognize his usual self once more, so you join him with a lighter heart.

You’re taking off your apron when you notice a solemn expression on his face.

“How are you getting home?” He asks.

"I take the bus from the main street, then I walk for a few blocks."

His face turns dark. "Every night?"

You blink at him, searching the issue. “Yeah.”

"Let me drive you home," he declares, walking to your side. "It's already late."

"It's not my first time going home this late, it's fine."

His eyebrows furrow. "No it's not." Much to your surprise he gently takes your hand in his, like he’s hesitant. After seeing no discomfort from your part, he squeezes. “Please, let me drive you home.”

You know you can’t say no, the sincere concern in his face melting your resistance. You simply nod, requesting a few minutes to turn off the lights and pack your bag. He complies before preparing to leave the store first.

"I park my car near the convenience store.”

"The one in the main street, right?" He affirms, and stops. Confused, you wait until he leans closer. He ruffles your hair, messing with it playfully. You yelp a complaint while he laughs, and suddenly, he puts his snapback on top of your head. 

With that, he leaves the store to prepare the car.

The gesture leaves you reeling, so you hold the cap to ground yourself. Belatedly, you realize this is going to be the first time you go out with Jinki outside of the comfort of your store. You know it’s nothing big, but it feels new, and exciting. And he’s going to drive you home, the gesture feels too intimate.

Arriving at the main street, you catch a sight of a black car parking near the convenience store. Right by its side is Jinki, waiting for you. He notices your form walking towards him and immediately opens the passenger door for you. Seeing you gawk, he grins.

“Come on,” he says, leading you closer with his hand on your lower back. The action makes you warm inside. You go inside the car wordlessly, and he joins in.

Maybe it's because of how late it is. Perhaps tea does have a good amount of caffeine. Regardless, the two of you are way too lively, especially after a long day of work. Jinki keeps playing random R&B songs and almost plays SHINee’s new song by accident, eliciting a gasp from the man and a delighted squeal from you. You keep telling him the directions, and the car strolls from amidst tall buildings to the residential area, where there are only smaller apartments and condos. He takes the final turn, and you excitedly point at one building, your apartment building. It’s a humble one, but you like how the location is far from dangerous areas of the city, and it’s neat. When Jinki finally parks the car, both of you whoop a drunk-like yaaay! while still laughing at each other.

Jinki gets out of the car first, humming sweetly, and you follow suit, the quietness of your neighborhood contrasts deeply with how loud it was inside the car. But it's a nice and welcomed contrast.

You skip to the staircase to the lobby, and you notice Jinki following you before he stops right before the first stair step. Turning towards him, you're not unfazed by the ever present smile on his handsome face. 

The high energy you both share simmers down, turning into a calm and light atmosphere. Surrounded by comfortable silence, you drink in the sight of him, a man that's shining so bright even in the middle of the night, on a sidewalk. However, the moment must come to an end.

"Thank you for driving me home."

"No," Jinki begins, looking straight at you with his dark eyes. "Thank you, (Y/n)."

"Don't mention it," you giggle. Realizing the item on your head, you take it off, offering it to him. "Your hat."

He waves it off. "Keep it until I see you again."

You only grip the snapback since it doesn't look like he's giving you another option. So you nod before taking a deep breath. "Alright then, good night." You exhale, disappointment creeps within your words, unnoticed.

"Wait."

You're about to turn towards the lobby to climb the stairs when his hand grabs yours and unceremoniously pulls you to him. There's a short moment of clarity and your five senses heighten, noticing his smell, his presence and—His lips press unto yours, soft and slightly chapped, you note in a daze. Warm rush of joy fills you, and you're about to return the kiss when he pulls back, the sight of him leaving you speechless. If he was glowing before, now he looks like the sun, all warm smiles and overwhelmingly bright. Even in the dark his pink hair paints an unreal picture. Catching you off guard, he leans in to plant another kiss, this time on your cheek, your disappointment is too apparent because he’s chuckling softly when he drags his lips to your ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers hotly, eliciting pleasant shivers down your spine. Leaning back, he waves innocently, gesturing at you to get into the building.  Speechless and flabbergasted, you give a small bow before practically running towards your apartment.

That night, you plop onto the bed feeling giddy like a teenager. Your mind wanders to Jinki, and Jinki only, from how he visited you tonight, how his breath feels against your skin, his laugh, his silly pink hair, and - the kiss. After a glance at his hat, which you hang near your bed side, you giggle into your pillow, looking forward to seeing the man tomorrow. 

Little do you know you're not going to see him again.

+++

Days pass.

The door to your cafe stays silent at 8 o'clock. There is no sight of a tall man in oversized clothes and mask, no sight of his sakura-colored hair. Ignoring the pang in your chest, you hope he's doing okay at work.

But days turn into weeks, and you know he won't be coming back. You hear news about SHINee's comeback, how successful it is and how all the members look mesmerizing and more handsome than ever. You also hear rumors about a certain man. The news say they spotted him a few times with a female, starting from them getting coffee together, to the more recent one, a picture in which the female had her hands in the crook of his elbow, both of them were smiling, clearly head over heels towards each other. People say they look good together, an idol and a famous actress. Even the fans are supportive of their presumed relationship, saying it's about time their oppa settles down with someone good enough for them.

That day, your heart breaks into pieces.

You drown yourself in work. The auntie from your regular bakery comes over to send you a variation of new cakes, asking about the customer behind regular orders of her traditional pastries. With a strained smile, you say he’s out of town, skillfully lying to the lady, and you don’t know when he will return - this time you’re telling the truth, bitter and a hard pill to swallow. The older lady pats your back, a sad look on her face, everything takes time, my dear, she says with a very knowing gaze. You swallow down a cry, unwilling to be seen so emotionally naked in front of her or anyone else, so you tell her you'll visit her tomorrow. Eunmi knows something's wrong. You hide emotions behind your cheerful self but she recognizes a broken hearted person anywhere, especially when it's her friend. So she takes you out to a pocha - a street vendor - near the neighborhood trying to wash away your pain with eo muk tang and soju. Having quite the high tolerance, you can't even drunkenly spill your secrets to her. But loosened up from alcohol, you tell her about your expectations and how it hurts you. You're grateful for her, nonetheless.

Weeks turn into months. The cold season melts into spring, a season too famous for blossoming love and all that bullshit. You never see him again, not on the news, not in person. He becomes a figment of your memory, a shadow that never fully comes into a tangible form that you can touch, or even gaze at. You toss and turn at night, trying to forget a man who managed to capture your heart, then breaks it mercilessly. You want to punish yourself for missing him, longing to hear his warm voice, his sweet laugh, and how happy he made you feel.

+++

It’s one of your bad days.

Granted, you haven’t been in your best state for months now, but you never let it bother your daily routine. Today, however, is just not your day. You wake up with a dreadful feeling in your stomach, like you’re walking on thin ice. So you wash it down with a cup of triple espresso, letting the caffeine induce faux energy in your veins.

Now you're in the bathroom of your cafe, glaring at your reflection in the mirror. You apply more lip tint and you discover it does improve your appearance, now you're less pale, much to your relief.

"With all due respect, (Y/n), you look like shit" was what Eunmi said to you before she left for her job. Grumbling, you give in and finally fix your appearance in the bathroom. Deeming yourself presentable - in fact, you look good, your hair's on point, you note with a grin - you leave the bathroom.

You see a figure standing in the middle of your cafe.

And he is awfully familiar.

Unbidden, a wave of anger hits you. Clenching your fist, you eye the man has been haunting your mind almost every single night. A shadow that somehow has taken his form, now.

"(Y/n)," he stammers. His voice is like a wake-up call, reviving a ghastly affection that you pushed down in your heart. You always like hearing your name on his tongue, luscious and teasing, but it never sounds this bleak.

Jinki looks different, the most apparent change is his hair, which is now dark brown, reminiscent of the first time you meet him. When was that again? Half a year ago? His fringe is slightly longer, a bit wavy and it fits him so well. Begrudgingly you admit his beauty did not fade, he's still as handsome as ever, if not more, and his cheekbones are more prominent, giving him a sharper appearance.

It's clear as day that he's somber, and the fact incites more anger on your part. Inhaling through your nose, you stomp back to your place behind the counter. From the corner of your eye you see his gaze following your movement.

"What would you like to order?" You ask, because even though you're heartbroken, you're a professional.

"I need to talk to you," he says. Of course he does. Nevertheless, you put on a charming smile before his guilt-stricken face.

"Your order, please."

He leans forward. "I'm sorry - " And that's the wrong answer, not when your day is already bad as it is, not when you feel so awful from the moment you wake up in your bed. Especially not after so many questions and non-existent answers on his behalf.

"If you're not buying anything, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," you say through gritted teeth, your customer service mask slipping off.

After an excruciating silence, he ducks his head, biting his lips, like he needs to stop himself from speaking any further. Then slowly, he walks towards the door. At that point, you should feel triumphant. But the pang in your heart says otherwise as you see his hunched back, filled with disappointment. Before leaving, he turns one more time, looking at you in the eye with a gaze that squeezes your heart painfully.

"I'll come back to visit again."

You watch the empty store, breathing harshly. There's a storm of emotions going inside you, and nothing you do afterwards helps you calm down. You've never been this shaken before, not even when you first heard of Jinki dating on the news. That day, you thought of course, of course he would date the actress. Not someone he randomly kissed after a particularly rough day. Idols are unreachable for a reason. But his reappearance opens a Pandora's box, releasing the feelings you locked in so many months ago.

To make it worse, this time Jinki is not lying. Because the next morning, he's back, he's wearing a black turtleneck shirt paired with slacks and covered by a dark brown coat, looking dashing all while smiling hospitably as he orders a huge americano and a dozen pastries for dine-in. He sits in his usual corner, fiddling with his phone all the while throwing glances at you. It's easy to ignore him with the presence of other customers, but when it's only two of you, it's a whole different kind of challenge.

Surprisingly, the man doesn't attempt to talk to you, at all. Jinki just sits there, waiting. He nibbles on one snack to the other, and continues to wait. You can hear him receiving calls silently, trying to hush his voice, but you hear words like "I'm not coming" and "I'm sorry, but I already told you yesterday” which start to melt the ice that’s settling within you.

The sun is setting when you decide you can't stand it anymore. He's been eating nothing but pastries, he had ordered another glass of coffee and he. Just. Won't. Leave. Checking the time, it's been 9 hours, and you’ve waited long enough, way too long, to get the answers you’ve been asking for.

With dread clawing inside your stomach, you stand up and walk to his table. Jinki notices your presence and immediately perks up. You despise the glimmer of hope in those familiar brown eyes.

"Why are you here?" The tremble in your voice is evident, and you inwardly curse. Jinki, however, looks determined and stares back with a steely gaze.

"I want to talk to you," he states evenly.

"Right now? The store is still open."

The air on his face changes abruptly, and you almost step back, feeling his anger. After throwing you an unexpected sneer, he speed-walks to the door, grabbing your wooden sign and flipping it over from ‘open’ to ‘close’. You stammer a protest, but he's already in front you, looming over with his taller body.

"It's closed." Motivated by desperation, you know he will do anything to get what he wants. But internally you shake off the tingles of warmth you feel when seeing him this assertive. "Can we please talk now?"

You chew the insides of your cheek, biting off your frustration, because you know he got you cornered. With a sigh, you nod. You've listened to many people, many stories ranging from sorrow to joy, and you listen well, quiet and composed. Now, you're anything but. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, uncomfortable with the increasing tension in the air. He remains silent, and you feel more uneasy. When he finally speaks, you should’ve seen it coming.

"I'm sorry." You feel each word stabbing your chest. "I'm sorry for not coming back, I have my reasons so please let me explain first."

You inhale sharply. "You have a girlfriend."

"No, I - "

"You have a girlfriend. Why did you even kiss me?"

Hurt flashes on his face. "She's not my girlfriend. And I kissed you because I wanted to."

Anger rises in your veins.

"Everybody says it. It's all over the news." You hold the urge to sneer, to laugh at his attempt to lie. Jinki’s mouth opens and closes a few times, his hand flailing helplessly. Then, he holds a hand up.

"Give me a minute," he insists before opening up his phone. You're close to berating him for lack of manners but he suddenly holds the phone to you. You look up at him quizzically. He only nods, somber and knowing, so you take it.

You gasp, your stomach churns with dread.

On his phone screen is a picture of the two of you, clearly taken by someone who's not supposed to see it. It was from that night before he stopped visiting, and it has you and him on the main street, right before you enter his car. Your face is hidden by the cap he lent, but he is ushering you into the car with a hand on your lower back. Unlike your features, Jinki's are crystal clear. He’s not wearing anything to cover his face, and his pink hair is bright in the dark. From the proximity, it's obvious what it looks like.

"T-this is - "

"Paparazzi. We managed to prevent the worst case with the help of media insiders, but we still needed to do preventive measures.” At that moment, SHINee was about to start promoting a comeback, if it went wrong, it'd ruin everything. “So, one of my agents suggested I fake-dated another celebrity to cover it up."

Your eyes widen. He stops, and stares at you knowingly.

"I was under heavy scrutinization. The media had their eyes on each and every movement I made. They followed me everywhere." He ducks his head, chuckling with an uncharacteristic self pity in his voice.

"I couldn't visit you. It was too risky. So I waited, and played along with the plan. Thankfully, announcing the relationship was not necessary. The pictures and interactions were enough. In the end, all we had to do was deny the rumors, saying we're just friends who helped each other in her acting gigs. Furthermore, I don't think they managed to publish the original picture. If they did… Let's just say I wouldn't be here."

Silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind is still processing all the things he’d said, but you can feel the blooming hope within your heart, trying to tell you to listen and to give him a chance. 

Jinki inhales, chest expanding before letting out of his frustrations through a harsh exhale. Then, he moves forward, taking your hand with his hesitant ones, testing the waters. Staying still, you watch with anticipation and thundering heart as he pulls your hands up.

“I miss you. I miss this place. Being around you makes my worries disappear, as if the only thing that matters is the time we spend together. I've always enjoyed your company since I first visited this place by chance but…” he takes a deep breath, eyes boring straight into yours.

“I didn’t expect to fall for you." 

Your breath hitches, and he moves closer. Just an inch closer, testing the waters.

"Please, give me a chance. I didn’t mean to stop seeing you. To stop visiting for months, not being able to see your smile… It was a torture.”

With shallow breaths, the aftermath of your shock, you find yourself unable to say anything. Your head is light and dizzy - clouded with emotions after his revelation. He pulls your hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss that stills you even further. His eyes are solemn, filled with so much longing that suddenly becomes clear to you.

"Will you forgive me? Can I try again?”

Months of learning to forget and hate him melts away. There's something in your expression that makes Jinki's eyes soften. You miss that gentleness that brings so much life to the man, but most of all, you miss him. Just him. Letting instinct take over, you pull your hands away from his grasp as his face falls.

"You idiot," you murmur helplessly, moving forward only to punch his chest, albeit weakly, ignoring his protests as he stumbles back with a yelp. "I waited. I waited for you but you never came back, I thought you - you got bored of me or something."

"(Y/n), no - "

Something inside you snaps, and you let words come out like a waterfall.

"I like you a lot, Jinki. More than a lot. I-I think I'm falling for you too. I didn't know what to do when I saw the news. It made me feel so bad about myself. And you just kissed me too. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He scratches the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.

"W-well, I don't have your number."

Unbidden, you choke out a strangled laugh, noticing the tears that's appearing in your eyes. With trembling fingers, you grab his shirt, hiding your face away in his chest. 

"I waited for you." You repeat, voice hoarse and weak.

With a tenderness you never felt before, he holds your face and frowns, regret paints his eyes darker. 

"I'm sorry, I'm here now."

"Is it even safe for you to be here?"

"It's been months, I'm out of their radar now, my team made sure of it."

"Stupid."

"I know, I know. I am stupid, I'm sorry."

"I missed you." You finally say, and in a second warmth engulfs your body as he pulls you into his arms. The scent that is undoubtedly Jinki, oh so familiar to you, comforts you almost instantly.

"I missed you, too." He says into your hair, and you return his embrace with a hiccup. "Are you crying? I'm so sorry."

You pull back, stubbornly trying to show him you are not crying but he just laughs - bright and warm, shit, you really missed it - cupping your face so tenderly it makes your cheeks burn. But something in your face makes him frown.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Your eyes widen at the nickname and his face falls. "Um, is it okay if I call you that?"

"S-sure," You reassure him, secretly melting inside.

"Good. So, what's on your mind?" He inquires with a hint of worry. You bite your lips, thinking about a question that has been lingering in your mind.

“So that night, when you kissed me… It wasn’t a mistake?”

At that, a smug smile graces his plump lips. Gosh, you even miss this side of him, the one that takes enjoyment in flustering you.

“I never regret it."

Relief floods your heart, and it leaves blossoms of hope. So you look up at him, putting on a cute expression that hopefully melts him.

“Can you do it again?”

He chuckles, not showing any protest before leaning in to capture your lips.

“Gladly.”

+++

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"I parked the car at a market two blocks away from your cafe, I think we're okay, (Y/n),” he sighs, pushing your back for you to start walking. Due to someone’s reckless action, you closed the store hours before it’s closing time, and now you even get to go home early.

You laugh. "Fine."

There's a part of Jinki that will never agree to you going home by bus, hence why he's insistent on driving you home once again. With a lighter heart, you accept.

But contrasting the previous trip, the ride home is silent. You can hear the faint sound of keys jingling against the dashboard, and the constant clack of pedals being stepped on. You turn your gaze to the driver, the sight of his side profile greeting you. He's breathtaking, you think, the mole on his chin is beyond adorable, and all of a sudden, the man turns his face. He offers you a smile before patting your thighs - as if knowing that smile makes your legs weak - and within seconds his eyes are back on the road, leaving you flustered.

Jinki parks the car across your apartment building, bringing a deja vu to the whole situation. You open the door and step a foot outside, thinking of saying good night to Jinki there and then. But he doesn't share your thoughts, because he's already leaving the car, intending to see you to the lobby.

"Alright then," he says softly. "Good night, (Y/n)."

The insides of your stomach twists. You don’t want him to leave yet. Months passed without him in your life, and despite having brighter days ahead within the new relationship, a selfish part of you still wants to spend time with him, making up for the lost time. You don't know what pushes you forward that night, but you’re already pulling the cuff of his sleeves, fingers curling around the fabric.

Jinki turns around, confusion clear in his brown eyes. "Yes?" He's tilting his head, cute.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" You blurt out and his eyes turn into saucers. "You haven't eaten a proper meal today. I can make something for both of us."

His surprise melts into a bright smile, his eyes crinkling with happiness. You see his ears turning red. "I'd love to."

You step into your home first, taking off your shoes and changing them to slippers. Gingerly, yet excited, you pull another pair of slippers to give to your guest. It’s a pair of white bunny slippers, with little ears as the decoration. You hope he doesn’t mind the design.

"Oh, thank you," he says, stifling a laugh at the object - rude - before ducking to follow your gesture. Then, he removes his coat, hanging it on the rack, revealing a set of broad shoulders and chest, the fabric of his low turtleneck shirt emphasizing the swell of his arms. You hang onto the sight for a little too long, and by the time you look away, Jinki already has a knowing smirk, amused at your dumbfounded expression. With a huff, you practically rush inside your home, ignoring him.

Without even looking, you know he's scanning your room. You're quite proud of it, because it may be small, but you made it as comfy as possible.  You don't have dining tables, instead you have island counters and high chairs. Gesturing Jinki to sit there, you excuse yourself to change into more comfortable clothes. As you're about to reach your room, Jinki calls your name. You turn to see him holding a familiar cap from your shelves.

"You kept it with you." He's grinning as he flails the hat, looking all giddy and adorable, and it's contagious.

"Of course, you told me to."

"That I did. But I didn't expect you to hold it after what happened."

He's not wrong. Many times you wanted to throw it away, since it's the only item you have that's left of him, the only string left of the frail connection you had with Jinki. But you couldn't, despite the bittersweet feeling that came from seeing the hat, sometimes you found comfort from it. 

As if sensing the deflated mood, he pushes the hat on your head playfully, pulling a laugh from you which halts when the back of his hand caresses your cheek, his eyes assessing you with intrigue. The same hand ends up on your shoulder, giving a light push.

"Go on, aren't you going to change?"

You scowl half-heartedly, trying to ignore the subtle suggestive tone in his voice.

Quickly, you go into your room to store the hat away and change into your usual attire at home, lounge shorts and a large t-shirt. You stride to the kitchen area and take a second to drink in the sight of Jinki in your kitchen. It’s real. The scene is so domestic you can feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach. 

"Does soybean soup sound good to you?" You ask, now standing in front of the island counter. You laugh internally realizing how similar this is to your usual dynamic at the café. "I have some pork dumplings too.”

Jinki blinks, then he looks at you from your head to toe with half hazed eyes. The way he’s drinking in your form triggers the heat pooling in your belly, especially when he stares at your thighs for a moment too long, and you can't help but squirm under his gaze. It's a truce, you suppose, for you've ogled at him as well. 

"That sounds lovely." His voice is quiet, eyes hazy like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. "Can I do anything to help?"

Bless this man. "Then, can you chop the vegetables?"

"Sure." He gets up and walks to your side, already eyeing a cutting board that’s hanging near the sink. Meanwhile, you’re rummaging through the freezer, acquiring a bag of frozen pork and leek dumplings, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you're cooking together and it's so domestic, fuck - you move to the shelves, intending to get the soybean paste container up there. It's not that high, you swear, but you do need to tiptoe.

Then unexpectedly, a hand goes past yours to grab the container. Familiar scent tickles your nose and warmth seeps through your back, with that you know Jinki’s standing behind you.

Sheepish, you turn to thank him but stop when you realize how close he is. He's looking at you with hooded eyes, intense and filled with emotions you're familiar with, because perhaps, you're mirroring it. A rustling sound catches your attention, and you notice Jinki putting the container down to the counter. You can feel the top surface of the same counter digging into your hips, and belatedly you catch up with your situation, it almost feels like you're cornered.

Jinki puts his hand on the counter by the side of your torso. With the rolled sleeves, the muscle of his arms draws your attention once more, his bicep tensing as the hand presses on the surface. Now you're cornered by his strong arm, and he moves the other to your hair, fingers tickling your temples, dragging them slowly to move your fringe out of the way.

"Are you okay?" Asks Jinki, almost rhetorically, voice lower than you've ever heard in all the time you've known him. He smells like wood and a hint of something floral, and you start to feel intoxicated from it. He's moving closer, at first you can only hear his breath, but within seconds you can feel each puff of air on your skin.

You take note of your heartbeat that runs a mile, the way you breathe in shallow intakes, and the wild butterflies in your stomach. You notice how desperately you want him to touch you, kiss you, it's inappropriate. Then, the answer should be no, you're far from okay.

Instead, you gulp. "Yes," you rasp the answer and the corner of Jinki's mouth quirks up, devilish yet sweet.

"Good."

And then he's on you. His lips descend on yours, urgent and feverish, and you melt against him immediately. You know this is not the first time you kiss, but it wasn’t like this before, that one was short and sweet, you didn't think it could be this hot and intoxicating.

His hand cups your cheek, tilting your head to mold your mouth better, the gesture makes you weak and you let him guide you to his will, and by the time he succeeds, you're already gripping his shoulder for balance and support.

Jinki opens his mouth, pulling your lower lip in between his teeth, grazing and teasing it until you accidentally let out a whimper that causes him to inhale sharply. The noise fuels your need to be closer to him, so you kiss him back harder, trying to take any sort of control. But Jinki's not having it,  he puts his hand on your lower back, gripping them tight enough to make you gasp. He uses the opportunity to sneak his tongue past your swollen lips.

Overwhelmed by him, you push your own appendage against his, meeting it shyly. He groans, voice rumbling low like never before and it goes straight into your core. Your lips dance together in a sensual rhythm as the temperature between you seems to increase. Eventually, you grow more breathless, and pull back. He follows suit, detaching your mouth but keeping you close to him. Like tunnel vision, you can only focus on the man who has you in his arms.

Jinki touches your forehead with his, which feels really warm. His whole body radiates heat, like a furnace, and you want the warmth to engulf you more. Pulling back, he cups your face tenderly, calloused thumb rubbing your cheek carefully, as if too much pressure will break you into pieces. You won’t break, but the weight of his gaze does cause you to squirm. Feeling self conscious, you bring a hand up to your face, attempting to hide your disheveled self only to have Jinki tut at the action.

"You always do that." With his large hands, he pries your smaller ones away, showing your flushed face for his delight. He smiles in awe, and you can’t look away.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers.

Elated by the compliment, you mirror his smile before pressing a chaste kiss to his full lips. The harmless peck turns into another heated kiss in no time, with you pressing yourself against him and him parting his irresistible mouth to welcome yours excitedly. Abruptly, he retreats again, chuckling nervously as he puts his hands on your shoulders.

"I’m sorry.” He sounds strained. “If we keep doing this, I won’t be able to stop.”

Again you’re reminded of how much of a gentleman Jinki is, how proper and patient he is. But you had enough. With a ridiculous amount of desperation coming from the ever-growing tension in the air between you two, you muster all of your courage. "Then don't."

With eyes as big as saucers, Jinki is about to say something when you take the chance to grab his arm and lead him to the couch in the middle of your room. You're in no rush, you know he knows what you want, and he's following your lead soundlessly. You sit down, he follows suit and you notice the way he takes no time to turn to you, cupping your face as you lean into the palm of his large hand. Despite the gentleness of his touch, you can see the storm in his eyes and how it waits to crash unto you. 

So you end his uncertainty.

"Don't stop." You whisper before leaning in, capturing his lips in a languid kiss. He reciprocates, returning the favor eagerly while his hand wanders on your exposed thighs, the skin to skin contact bringing shivers to your spine. It doesn't take long until your frenzied self shifts closer to him, ending up sitting in his lap, and his lips have left yours in order to explore the skin of your neck. He parts his mouth and starts sucking on your skin, exposed by the large t-shirt. You breathe shakily, positively quivering in his hold. Never would you know the usually calm man can turn you into a molten heat under his touch. 

Wanting to feel more of Jinki, your hand wanders from his chest to his abdomen and lower to his thighs, eliciting a hiss from him. Mesmerized by his reaction, you crave more, so you shift in his lap, moving in a way that will make your thighs brush against the hardness between his legs.

"Oh god," he moans out loud, voice gravelly but still melodic to your ears, it brings a proud grin to your face, provoking his eyes to turn dark. He tuts. "Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart."

The endearment alone sends a familiar wetness straight to your core. He smiles, knowing exactly what he does.

"May I?"

You nod, and suddenly his hand is on your inner thigh, dancing dangerously close to your center, and your breath hitches, knowing how wet you are by now. His other hand travels to your back, sneaking under your shirt to rub circles there, fingers brushing with the back of your bra repeatedly, the sensations make you whimper and the satisfaction on Jinki's face only brings more excitement in your veins. You almost let out a moan, biting your lip when you feel his finger pressing on your core through the pants.

"What was that?" He hums, putting more pressure.

"Don't tease me," you manage out, holding his upper arm with a trembling hand. Your last sliver of pride seems to fire a challenge within him, so you curse out loud when he easily pulls your pants down along with your panties, leaving you exposed. He rubs your thighs appreciatively, making you whimper.

"Jinki, please…"

The way his name sounds on your tongue right now must be so erotic, because you can feel his erection twitch in response. He hums, leaning in to ghost his lips over yours.

"What do you want, sweetheart?"

"Please touch me." Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

Deceptively calm, he slowly spreads your legs, putting one foot on the couch and the other dangling on his strong thigh, and drags his thick finger on your slit. That first contact alone pulls a moan out of you causing him to sigh with appreciation.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

"Don't say that - "

He gives you a crooked smile. "What? It's true, you're soaked."

It's not a secret that he enjoys teasing you until you lose your composure, but this time he's driving you crazy, and you know he's reveling in it. Losing control, you gasp as you feel a touch on your clit before his finger enters you easily. You bite your lip, closing your eyes as the glorious sensation takes you by surprise, and you lean forward to hide your face in the crook of Jinki's neck. He whispers sweet words, his other hand holds you tightly as the other keeps fingering you. Then, he pulls your body away, raising your chin, his eyes meet your questioning ones. Your answer arrives when another finger pushes into your wet cavern, making you keen. "A-ah - "

"Is that okay?"

The consideration doesn't go unnoticed. You nod, and he pulls you closer for a kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible. It's messy, you keep moaning into his lips, leaning back to pant as Jinki picks up speed, you have to hold a scream when he goes deeper, and crooks his fingers to a spot that rocks your body into a quivering mess.

Your control breaks when he rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling the pleasure building, and you can't stop the euphoric moans coming out of your mouth. Jinki stares at you with wonder in his eyes, appreciating your form as you gasp and pant his name so beautifully.

"Are you close?"

Feeling the intense heat coiling in your lower abdomen, you can only nod, but he persists, taking your chin rather forcefully you almost feel ashamed of how much you like it. His usually warm brown eyes are like molten lava, burning with desire and it lights you up in flame.

"No, tell me, are you close?" He demands with a harsh swipe on your clit and you arch your back in intense pleasure. You clench harder on his fingers, struggling to find words to answer him.

"Please, I'm so close - ah," You haven't finished your words when his hand increases the speed, going deep to rub your inner walls all without warning. You are in a sweet delirium, not caring of anything else at the moment. Your breaths are shallow, chest heaving up and down as your orgasm is teetering very closely.

Knowingly, Jinki looks into your eyes, hunger visible in the depths of brown. But his words are soft. 

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

With a high pitched moan, you let your climax crash into you, pussy walls clenching around his fingers that have been fucking you for a while now. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent that starts to mix with sweat. It calms you, so you breathe in more, still panting from your orgasm.

"Good girl," he murmurs into your hair, peppering kisses on the crown of your head, and you respond with a strained laugh.

"Oh my god, you're insane."

He joins in, ruffling your hair playfully. Looking back up, you see him staring at you with equal parts adoration and lust and the huge hardness underneath you calls your attention.

"Hey, what's wrong?" His voice is strained yet gentle, slightly concerned with the sudden silence. You look down, and he immediately knows what you're thinking.

"(Y/n), we don't have to - "

"Jinki, I want you." You lean closer, brushing your lips against his alluringly, silencing him. "I told you not to stop. Don't you want me?"

He swallows, control slipping.

"I want you so bad." He whispers, voice strained. He's devouring you with his gaze, hands cupping your face possessively. Intending to push him to his limits, you take his hand and slowly kiss each finger, pressing light pecks on the callused skin. You start sucking on his thumb, and he curses before eagerly pushing the thick finger in your wet mouth, pressing against your tongue. He's a storm about to explode, and you know it.

"Shit, I want you all for myself," Jinki grits out. He grabs your waist roughly, making you gasp around his thumb, before he pulls it out. "I want you begging me to let you cum, like you did just now."

You moan at his words, unconsciously rolling your hips to his, which pulls a pained groan from him. At that moment, you know he can't resist you anymore.

"Do you want it, sweetheart? Are you sure?" He finally asks, and you nod, eyes determined and rightfully desperate. You're a wet mess and you want nothing but to have Jinki inside of you. No longer wanting to wait, you finally go for his ear, whispering your one and only wish for the night.

"Please fuck me, Jinki. Make me yours."

He inhales sharply. With shallow breaths, he tugs you closer, kissing you deeply before shifting you in his arms. You yelp as he picks you up easily and starts walking towards your bedroom.

"There's no way we're doing it on a couch." He winks before dropping you on the bed while your squeal fills in the room.

As if there's a switch, the laughing subsides. With one glance at the man before you, you can only focus on one thing. You rush to pull off Jinki's shirt, and you marvel at his body and all the defined muscles. Taking a little too much time ogling him, Jinki chuckles, but you can hear the slight nervousness, and goes ahead to unbuckle his belt. The action jolts you back into reality, so you help him to remove the offending fabric.

Your hands are trembling, but Jinki's too, and you find comfort from it as you fumble around, too excited to care about anything else in the world.

Growing impatient, you capture his lips again which he responds to eagerly. God, his lips are soft. Your hand goes south to palm him through his briefs, trying to stimulate him more. With a muffled moan, he asserts his strength and takes your hand before flipping your position and resuming the kiss. Trapped under his strong body, you let yours go pliant as his hands explore it greedily.

He all but rips your oversized shirt before pushing you back down on your bed. Satisfied and not being able to hold himself back anymore, he cups your breast through your bra, making you gasp, and he quickly removes it before going straight to tweak a pebbled nipple. Sighing in pleasure, you move your hips upwards, needing some friction. Jinki notices it and smirks.

"Impatient, aren't we?"

Perhaps you should feel more ashamed for your wanton, but there's no remorse, only a painful need for the man before you. Who you’ve waited for so long.

You let out a whine. "Please?"

"Please what?"

"I want you inside me - oh!"

Without a warning, Jinki pushes in two fingers into your heat, the earlier wetness and your own release help in slicking his fingers.

"Like this, sweetheart?" He asks, clearly teasing you, playing with your bundle of nerves, your noises encouraging him to arouse your body further.

"Jinki, please…" You all but beg, hands reaching to touch his body, down to his cock, still in the briefs, trying to send an obvious message to your lover.

With a smile, he pulls out his fingers. Like the patient person he is, he takes his time to take off his briefs, finally freeing his hard cock. You can't help but feel intimidated by his size. Deceptively slow, he strokes himself while peering down at you, enjoying the fucked out look in your eyes and leaving you almost drooling at the sight he provides.

"God, I want you so bad," he grunts. "You don't know how long I've wanted this."

"It wouldn't take too long if you hadn't left," you whine instantly, making him pout.

"I'm going to make it up to you, okay, sweetheart?" He leans in, peppering kisses on your cheeks while slowly pulling your legs open. “We have all the time now.” You marvel at his gaze, loving and all heat at the same time. After wetting his cock with all your essence, he finally starts pushing in, tensing your whole body.

"Relax," he says, caressing your thighs softly and you nod, letting him push himself inch by inch. God, he's huge and he's stretching you so well.

"More," you whimper and he knows you're growing impatient as well, in one swift motion, he pushes all the way in and makes you moan in pleasure. You can feel his girth around your walls, and you clench unconsciously.

"Shit (Y/n), don't do that." He pulls back while chuckling, the tip of his cock almost leaving your core. "Let me make you feel good first."

You nod weakly, about to say something, anything but get cut off when he pushes in again, this time deeper.

"Jinki," you moan as he replies with a quiet "Okay?" To which you nod.

And he does. He slides in again, and again, and you can't even form words to save your life. His cock feels amazing, fucking you like there's no tomorrow. You pull him closer by the neck, kissing him hard and sloppy. Taking advantage of your muffled mouth, Jinki wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you up slightly and making your legs wrap around him before he starts pounding into you relentlessly. He swallows your euphoric screams, only pulling away to enjoy your expression, basking in pleasure.

As soon as his cock hits your pleasurable spot, you gasp out and clench hard, earning a guttural moan from him. "Jinki, I'm - "

"You're close, aren't you sweetheart? Are you going to cum for me again?"

"Yes! Please - oh my god," you ramble before your words turn into a high pitched moan as you feel Jinki's fingers playing with your clit. You're so close, the second orgasm already creeping up to you, more intense than the first. 

"You were so beautiful when you cum earlier, will you show it to me again?" He offers a sweet smile, contrasting the way he's pounding into your pussy and you only whimper in answer. He pinches your engorged bundle of nerves, expression turning dark.

"Answer me, can you, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" You gasp out, the stimulation jolts fire within you. "Yes, only for you Jinki."

With a particularly harsh thrust, you choke a gasp before a wave of pleasure hits you. You can feel yourself clenching uncontrollably, legs shaking as Jinki pulls you closer, pressing a kiss on your temple.

"Good girl, my good girl," he rambles, chasing his own high desperately. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, he gives one last push before groaning in release, spilling his essence inside you. You sigh with content, running your fingers in his soft brown locks. After a moment, he leaves your neck, craning his head up before smiling broadly, the post-coital glow so apparent on his face. You grin, pressing a kiss on his nose, which makes him laugh.

"Hang on," he murmurs, pulling out of you before plopping down on your side. "Hi."

"Hi," you respond, moving to his arms, grinning and giddy from your own high. He wraps his arms around you, pressing his cheeks into the skin of your neck.

"Still up to cook?" He asks, and you realize all the cooking supplies you've prepared in the kitchen. You get up, but he stops you. "Let's just order a takeout. I'll help you clean out the kitchen."

You sigh. "Fine."

"You can cook breakfast tomorrow."

You blink owlishly, which gets a sheepish smile in return.

"Can I stay over?"

A large smile blossoms on your face. "Of course."

“Give me a second then.” He begrudgingly gets up, looking slightly lost for a moment before finding his phone. The sight amuses you so much you don’t realize Jinki pouting as he makes a call.

"I won't be coming back tonight," Jinki says to the phone before a loud shouting blasts from the device. He laughs, looking behind to catch your gaze before smiling wide. "Sure, I'll introduce her later to you."

"Wha - Taemin?" A scoff. "You two have fun, then."

Finishing the call, he crawls back to your embrace in the bed, making you giggle. Jinki hums with contentment before nudging you back, wishing to see your face. You don't know what he sees, but his smile turns softer, and he really looks like the sun.

"You're insane." he half-whispers, and you laugh, boisterous and too giddy. You decide to tease him.

"But you haven't seen nothing yet."

His lips quirk into a devious grin. "Is that a challenge?"

You only smirk in reply, which encourages Jinki to lean up and try to kiss you, but something comes to your mind so you push yourself off him.

"Wait here, we need to clean up." Ignoring his disappointed look, you stand up and start to walk away. Suddenly, you hear a loud rumbling noise. When you see Jinki, he already has a hand on his stomach with only a mild surprise, like he knows it will happen sooner or later. You huff.

"And you need to eat."

He laughs, following suit only to wrap his hands around your waist, seemingly unable to detach himself from you for too long. You grumble, attempting to wrestle away from him. But he's stronger, and holds you so you're looking at him. With a voice as warm and sweet as his favorite drink, he murmurs.

"Just one more kiss, sweetheart, then dinner."

The nickname works like a charm. Albeit having disbelief in his self-control - and yours too, to be frank - you give in, relaxing your body and accepting his lips on yours again, thankful that he returns, excited for the days you'll spend together with him in your life.

[omiangelic]

phoenix (dabi)

welcome to the first thing i’ve posted since i was 12 and on w*ttpad. i got possessed and wrote this.

wc: 1,111

cw: hurt no comfort, gender neutral Y/N (they’re never referred to directly), dabi and his whole deal (fire, domestic abuse, suicide/ideation), Y/N and dabi are both avoidant attachment :(

miniplaylist: It Means Everything from the Omori OST, Cheetah by Deux Visages, Spiricle by Flower Face, Blood on the Sheets by Violent Vira

You knew this would only hurt when you let it start. You’re both too avoidant. It would be ridiculous to think your negatives could make a positive.

The peninsula of your kitchen counter stands in between two people who are little more then scared, angry children. Two people who both grew up in environments too offensive to allow them to live, much less grow up. Two people who are now trapped in older bodies with damaged brains that built more walls than could ever be counted. That’s what you’re thinking about, what’s lingering in the back of your mind, as you stare at Touya.

When he told you his real name, all those months ago, after waking up from a nightmare shaking in your arms and unsure where he was, you looked him up. His obituary was public. There were pictures of him caught by paparazzi in the image tab, but every headline used the same middle school photo as his obit.

You’re staring at the boy from those pictures right now.

He’s holding his jacket, body turned towards the door. He looks at the floor, jaw tense. The aftermath of your explosion is deafening.

“That’s a stupid idea and you know it,” you spit the words out like they’re pure acid. They burn you both.

He pushed you to this point and he knows it. He’d watched you tick closer and closer to detonating every time he came to see you. It seems that today that countdown finally hit zero.

The charred remains of who he used to be gnaw and scratch away at him. I don’t want to leave, they beg. I can be safe here. Please, I want to stay.

Dabi wished he’d really killed that kid on that mountain. Maybe if he’d done it right, finished the job, he wouldn’t have to feel hurt like this. He doesn’t understand why this hurts more than dying did.

He tightens his fist around his jacket until his knuckles are white.

“What, you’re just gonna stand there? What about your conviction? Your determination to kill yourself over a man that never loved you?”

He doesn’t move.

“Did it never occur to you? That you’re already free? That you can do whatever you want without him? That by committing yourself to this egoistic death wish, you’re giving him power again? You act like you burned away that life, and maybe you did- but it never died. You’re trapped inside that godforsaken house, keeping the fire going with your brothers, and pretending that they aren’t right there with you.

“I get it. The heat is comforting. It’s familiar; but there are other ways to stay warm- different types of light. I’ve been trying to show you that for years. I’m tired of trying to get you to see that on your own,” you sigh.

“Whatever,” you pivot and begin walking down the hall to your bedroom, “go kill yourself, again, Dabi. Maybe it’ll make you feel something this time.”

You’re inches from the door when you feel a tug on your wrist. You don’t bother turning to look, “what?”

His grip tightens. He breathes in but doesn’t say anything. He still doesn’t say anything.

“What?” you repeat, tone sharper. Does he need you to drive him away more to feel complete? Is he unsatisfied because you didn’t fight his desire to leave, when his absence is almost as familiar as he is?

You knew this would only hurt when you let it start. You don’t think you’d realized how much it would hurt back then.

He’s hesitant before opening his mouth again, the rasp of his voice so achingly familiar, “You know how long I’ve been-”

“Oh, give me a break!” You whip around to face him, try to yank your wrist free, but his grip holds firm. He wants to hold you more than you want him to let go.

There’s no light in his eyes when you face him. He looks like the criminal they catch on security cameras and CCTV, not the man you’ve grown to- that you’ve grown too attached to.

He takes another deep inhale before starting again. “Endeavor-”

“This isn’t about Endeavor! This is about you!” You crack, “killing Endeavor won’t undo the damage he’s done! It won’t change anything!” You’re breathing hard, seething, splintering, breaking apart. His eyes are empty but the weight of his hold on you is a constant reminder that his presence. His hands are like freezer burn. So cold they’re hot, so hot they’re cold- they’re comforting in their discomfort.

You knew it would hurt. You knew it would hurt. You knew it would hurt. You knew it would hurt.

“What do you want me to say? What else am I-“

“You act like your hands are tied. Like you don’t have any other choice but to follow through with this. Like a life outside of this isn’t possible for you.”

“It isn’t-”

“Then what the fuck is this, Touya? Are you just playing house when it’s convenient?” He flinches like you’ve struck him and you aren’t sure what caused it: the usage of his real name or the accusation.

His grip is like iron. He’s silent again.

I hate this, he’s begging himself to say, I hate hurting you but it’s all I’m good for.

Once upon a time you told him you saw him as a phoenix- magnificent, reborn ablaze- but he feels like a tornado on fire; the kind that leave irreparable damage behind- ruin lives. He can feel your fire extinguish under his storm. He sucks the air out of you, can’t you feel it? How can you tolerate him? He can see your lip quiver from how hard you’re trying not to turn tail and slam your door in his face.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” your fight goes out with your flames. You attempt to free yourself again but there’s no force behind it.

Too avoidant. Ridiculous to think your negatives could make a positive.

He’s looking at the floor, “You had to know this was coming.”

“You had to know I was never going to beg for you to stay,” you snap, but you fizzle out just as fast as you’d sparked, “I tried. It wasn’t enough. Arguing won’t change that.”

The strain in your voice makes him ache. It was enough. You were more than enough. It isn’t your fault I’m only capable of destruction. I wish I finished the job, I wish I finished the job, I should’ve finished the job-

Maybe this is better. I want to stay. Maybe he can offer you the first piece of kindness he’s ever wanted to provide. I want to stay but this is all I've ever known. Maybe he’ll finally be good for something, be worthy of the way you look at him like he isn’t the filthy, rotten thing he knows himself to be.

He lets you go. He swears he can hear your heart crack, and he’s memorizing your face while your eyes well up in tears at his fatal determination before he’s gone like he was never there in the first place. Your front door shuts softly and you almost hear three forbidden words on the wind he leaves behind.

You forgot how cold your apartment is without him in it.

tagging @stunies i hope their suffering lived up to your expectations 🙂‍↕️

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